PRESENTED
TO
The University of Toronto
BY
6
THE JOURNAL
OF
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.
VOLUME XIII.
EDITED BY WM. T. HARRIS
ST. LOUIS:
G. I. JONES AND COMPANY.
18 7 9.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by
WM. T. HARRIS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
/SOW
CONTENTS
PAGE
Algorithmic Division in Logic, George Bruce Halsted, 107
Cottage Hymns, William Ellery Charming, 346
Fichte's Criticism of Schelling (Tr.), A. E. Kroeger, 225
Hegel on Komantic Art (Tr.) Wm. M. Bryant, 113, 244, 351
Hegel on Jacob Boehme (Tr.), Edwin D. Mead, 179, 269
Hermann Grimm on Raphael and Michael Angelo (Tr.), Ida M. Eliot, 51, 289
Kant's Anthropology (Tr.), A. E. Kroeger, 281
Letter on the Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas (Tr.), . . Thomas Davidson, 87
Matter and Method of Thought, Meeds Tuthill, 372
Schelling's Academical Lectures (Tr.), Ella S. Morgan, 190, 305
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant, J. Hutchison Stirling, 1
Science of Education — Analysis of Pedagogics, Editor, 205
Spatial Quale, Wm. James, 64
Spatial Quale — An Answer, J. Elliot Cabot, 199
Time and Space considered as Negations, Bayton Spence, 337
Von Hartmann on Darwinism (Tr.), H~ I. D *>Arcy x 139
World as Force, John Watson, 151
Notes and Discussions, , 215
(1) Professor Caird replies to Dr. Stirling; (2) Dr. Spence on Volun-
tary Motion; (3) Two Sonnets; (4) H. K. Hugo Delff's Writings.
Notes and Discussions, 320
(1) Karl Rosenkranz; (2) C. E. Appleton; (3) Dr. Stirling and Pro-
fessor Caird; (4) American Journal of Philology.
Notes and Discussions, 398
(1) Dr. Stirling and Professor Caird; (2) Philosophy at Johns Hopkins
University ; (3) Hegel's ^Esthetics ; (4) Immanuel Hermann von Fichte ;
(5) Associations of Tone and Color; (6) Raphael's School of Athens;
(7) Weeds.
Book Notices, 222
(1) Elmendorf's History of Philosophy; (2) The Ultimate Generali-
zation; (3) Lander's Imaginary Conversations ; (4) Benard's L'Esthet-
ique de Hegel ; (5) Sittenlehre fuer Schule und Haus.
Book Notices, 322
(1) Theism — a Baird Lecture, by Robert Flint, D.D. : (2) A Candid
Examination of Theism, by Physicus; (3) Phantasie als Grund-Princip
des Weltprocesses, von J. Frohschammer; (4) The Foreknowledge of
God, by L. D. McCabe, D.D. ; (5) Symmetrical Education.
iv Contents.
PAGE
Book Notices, 422
(1) The Principles of Science, by W. Stanley Jevons; (2) Anti-
Theistic Theories, by Robert Flint; (3) Philosophische Schriften, von Dr.
Franz Hoffmann— Vol. VI. ; (4) Thought, the great Reality, by W. H.
"Wynn; (5) Kant's Ethics: the Clavis to an Index, by James Edmunds;
(6) The Geological and Geographical Distribution of the Human Race,
by Nathaniel Holmes ; (7) Three Home-Talks, by R. R. ; (8) Organon of
Science, by John Harrison Stinson; (9) Die Vorurtheile der Menschheit,
etc., by Lazar B. Hellenbach; (10) Ueber die Bedeutung der Einbil-
dungskraft in der Philosophie Kant's und Spinoza's, von J. Frohscham-
mer; (11) On a Foundation for Religion, by George H. Ellis; (12) Prin-
ciples of the Algebra of Logic, by Alexander Macfarlane; (13) The
"World's Progress : a Dictionary of Dates, G. P. Putnam's Sons ; .
(14) Discorso di Filosofla di Francesco della Scala (F. Dini) ; (15) Lu-
cian und die Kyniker, von Jacob Bernays ; (16) Mind and Brain, by
Henry Calderwood ; (17) Mind : a Quarterly Review of Psychology and
Philosophy; (18) Philosophische Monatshefte; (19) O Positivismo,
Revista de Philosophia; (20) Revue Philosophique de la France et de
l'Etranger; (21) La Filosofla della Scuole Italiane, Rivista Bimestrale;
(22) Zeitschrift fuer Philosophie und Philosophische Kritik.
Books Received, 336
THE JOURNAL
OF
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.
Vol. XIII.] January, 1879. [No. 1.
SCHOPENHAUER IN RELATION TO KANT. 1
BY J. HUTCHISON STIRLING.
The discussion of this relation will, it is hoped, be product-
ive of not a little that may prove at once determinative of the
one and illustrative of the other. The following is a transla-
tion of the entire section (23), which opens in page 85 of the
third edition of Schopenhauer's work, " Ueber die vierfache
Wurzel lies Satzes vom zureichenden Grunde"
REFUTATION OF THE PROOF GIVEN BY KANT FOR THE A PRIORI NATURE
OF THE NOTION OF CAUSALITY.
The exposition of the universal validity of the law of Causality
for all experience, its a priori nature and consequent limitation to
the possibility of experience, is a main object of the Kritik of Pure
Reason. Nevertheless, I cannot agree with the proof given there of
the a priori nature of the proposition. It is, in essentials, as fol-
lows: " The synthesis of the maivy of particulars through imagina-
tion that is required for every empirical perception — this synthesis
gives succession, but not yet any determinate one : that is to say,
it leaves undetermined which of two perceived states is the prior,
not only in my imagination, but in the object. Determinate order of
this succession, however — and through such order alone the contents
of perception become experience, or, what is the same thing, such
order alone gives authority to judgments objectively valid — this
1 As preceding and conditioning- this paper (which, however, is quite independ-
ent), attention is invited to the article, " The Philosophy of Causality : Hume and
Kant," in the Princeton Reciew, for January, 1879.
XIII — 1
2 Tlie Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
order, then, results alone from the notion of pure understanding
named cause and effect. The axiom of the causal relation, there-
fore, is condition of the possibility of experience, and, as such, given
us a priori." (See Krit. d. rein. Vera., 1. Aufl., S. 201; 5. Aufl.,
S. 246.)
According to this, then, the order of the succession of the changes
of real objects shall be perceived to be an objective one only first of
all by virtue of the causality of these. Kant repeats and illustrates
this proposition in the " Kritik of Pure Reason," particularly in his
"Second Analogy of Experience" (1. Aufi., S. 189; vollstlindiger
in der 5. Ann., S. 232) ; and, again, in the conclusion of his '"Third
Analog} 7 ," [ ?] which passages I beg every one to read over again, who
would understand what follows. He maintains everywhere here that
the objectivity of the succession of the impressions, which objectivity
he explains as its agreement (the succession's agreement) with the
succession of real objects ; that this objectivity is perceived only
through the rule according to which they follow one another — that
is to say, through the lav of causality ; that, consequently, the
objective relation of consecutive appearances to sense remains fully
undetermined through my mere perception, inasmuch as I only per-
ceive then the sequence of my impressions, and the sequence in
my apprehension authorizes no judgment as regards the sequence in
the object, unless my judgment support itself on the law of caus-
ality ; seeing that, moreover, I might, in my apprehension, cause
the succession of the perceptions to proceed as well in quite a reverse
order, as there is nothing which determines it as objective. In
illustration of these propositions, he adduces the example of a house,
the parts of which he is able to consider in any required succession —
as, from above downwards, or from below upwards ; where, there-
fore, the determination of the succession would be merely subjective,
and not realized in any object, because dependent on his will and
pleasure. And, as a contrast, he brings forward the perception of a
ship driving down stream. Here he perceives the ship ever lower
and lower, and he cannot alter this his perception of the succession
of its various positions. Hence, in this case, he deduces the sub-
jective suite of his apprehension from the objective suite in the
sensible phenomenon ; and this latter suite he names, accordingly, a
Begebenheit — an occurrence, an event, a something that has taken
place or happened. Now, against this, I maintain that both cases are
noways different ; that both are occurrences ; that the perception of
both is objective — that is to say, it is a perception of changes of
real objects, perceived as such by the subject. Both are changes of
the position of two bodies in each other's regard. In the first case,
one of these bodies is the corporeal frame proper of the observer
himself, or, rather, only a part of it, namely, the eye ; and the other
is the house, in respect of the parts of which the position of the eye
is successively altered. In the second case it is the ship alters its
position in respect of the stream, and the alteration, therefore, is
between two bodies. Both are occurrences ; the only difference is
that, in the first case, the alteration proceeds from the body of the
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 3
observer himself, whose sensations are, indeed, the starting-point of
all the perceptions of it — it itself, nevertheless, being an object
among objects, and, consequently, subjected to the laws of this ob-
jective corporeal world. The movement of his body by his own will
is for him, so far as he is purely perceptive, merely an empirically
perceived fact. The order of succession in the change misclit be as
well inverted in the second case as in the first, had but the observer
as well the power to draw the ship up stream as to move his eye in
an opposite direction to the first one. For it is from the succession
of the perceptions of the parts of the house depending on his own
will that Kant concludes it not to be objective and not an occurrence.
But the movement of his eye in the direction from roof to cellar is
one occurrence, and the opposed movement from cellar to roof a
second one, quite as much as the movement of the ship. There is
no difference here whatever ; just as — in regard to its bein°; an occur-
rence or not — there is no difference whether I pass by a rile of soldiers
or they pass by me ; both are occurrences. If, from the bank, I fix
my eyes on a ship passing near it, it will presently appear to me that
it is the bank moves, taking me with it, while it is the ship stands
still. I am, of course, wrong here in regard to the cause of the
relative change of place, seeing that I ascribe the movement to* the
wrong object ; but I perceive objectively, and correctly enough nev-
ertheless, the real succession of the relative positions of my body to
the ship. Neither would Kant, in the case adduced by him, have
believed himself to find a difference, had he reflected that his body
is an object among objects, and that the succession of his empirical
perceptions depends on the succession of the impressions of other
objects on his body, and is, consequently, an objective one — ■ that
is, takes place with respect to objects immediately (though not medi-
ately), independent of the will of the subject, and can, consequently,
A r ery well be perceived without the successive objects that impress his
body standing together in a causal connection.
Kant says : Time cannot be perceived ; therefore, no succession of
impressions can be empirically perceived as objective — that is to
say, as alterations of the sensible phenomena, in distinction from
alterations of mere subjective impressions. The objectivity of an
alteration can be cognized only through the law of causality, which is
a rule in accordance with which states follow each other. And the
result of his allegation would be that we perceive as objective no
sequence in time whatever, except that of cause and effect, and that
every other sequence of sensible phenomena perceived by us is de-
termined thus, and not otherwise, only by our own will. I must allege
against all this that sensible phenomena may very well follow on one
another without following from one another. And this noways
prejudices the law of causality. For it remains certain that every
change is the effect of another, so much standing, a priori, fixed ;
still it does not follow on that one only which is its cause, but on all
others which are simultaneous with this latter, and with which it (the
effect) stands not in any causal connection. It is perceived by me,
not only in the series of causes and effects, but in a quite other one,
4 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
which, however, is not, on that account, any the less objective, and
very easily distinguished from any subjective one dependent on
my own will — as, for example, that of my phantasmata. The suc-
cession in time of occurrences which stand not in causal connec-
tion is what we call chance (ZufalV), a word derived from the Zusam-
menfallen — the falling together, the encountering, the contingence of
what are in no connection — just like n) <Tu/j.j3eftr]z6<; from au'iftabsiM.
(Comp. Arist. Anal., post. I. 4.) I step out of doors, and a tile r
falling from the roof, hits me ; there is no causal connection be-
tween my stepping out and this falling of the tile ; nevertheless, the
succession — namely, that my movement preceded that of the tile —
is objectively determined in my apprehension, and not subjectively
by my own will ; which otherwise, indeed, would rather have reversed
the succession. In the same way the succession of the notes in a
piece of music is objectively determined, and not subjectively by me
who listen to them ; but who will say that such musical notes follow
each other according to the law of cause and effect. Nay, even the
succession of day and night is, beyond doubt, objectively perceived
by us, but these are certainly not apprehended as cause and effect,
the one of the other ; and, in regard to their common cause, the
world, until Copernicus, was in error, without the correct perception
of their succession in any way suffering therefrom. And by this,
too, let it be said in passing, is the hypothesis of Hume refuted ; in-
asmuch as the oldest and wholly exceptionless succession of clay and
night has, for all that, never misled any one to conclude, through
custom, that the one is the cause of the other.
Kant says, in the same place, that an impression manifests object-
ive reality (that, of course, means is distinguished from mere phan-
tasmata) only by this : that we perceive its necessary connection with
other impressions, as in subjection to a rule (the law of causalit}' - ),
and its place in a determinate order of our impressions as in relation
of time. But of how few impressions do we know the place given
to them in the causal series by the causal law ! And yet we can always
distinguish the objective ones from the subjective ones — real objects
from phantasmata. In sleep, the brain being then isolated from
the peripheral nervous system, and thereby from external impres-
sions, this distinction is impossible to us ; and, therefore, in our
dreams we take phantasmata to be real objects, and only when we
awake, only when the sensible nerves and the external universe with
them return into consciousness, only then do we perceive our error ;
at the same time that, even in dream, so long as it is continuous, the
causal law maintains its right- — -only that an impossible material is
often imposed upon it. Almost we might believe that Kant, in the
passage concerned, had stood under the influence of Leibnitz, how-
ever much in his whole philosophy he is opposed to the latter, when
we consider, that is, the quite similar expressions of Leibnitz in his
Nouveaux Essais sur I'Entendement (Liv. IV, ch. 2, § 14), as, for
example, " la verite des choses sensibles ne consiste que dans la liaison
des phenomenes, qui doit avoir sa raison, et c'est ce qui les distingue
des songes. Le vrai criterion, en mature des objets des sens, est la
/Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 5
liaison des plienomhies, qui garantit les verites de fait, a I'egard des
-choses sensibles liors de nous."
In regard to this whole proof of the a-priori and necessary nature
of the law of causality from the circumstance that only through
jneans of it do we perceive the objective succession of changes, and
that it so far is a condition of experience, Kant has manifestly fallen
into an extremely surprising error, and one so palpable that it is only
to be explained as resulting from his pre-occupation with the a priori
part of our knowledge, which has caused him to lose sight of what
everybody else must have seen. The only correct proof of the
a priori nature of the law of causality is given by me in section 21.
This a priori nature is verified every instant by the immovable cer-
tainty with which every one, in all cases, expects from experience
that it will take place in accordance with this law — that is, through
the apodeictic validity that we attribute to this law — a validity which
distinguishes itself from every other such founded on induction — as,
for instance, the (empirically known) laws of nature — by this : that it
is impossible for us even to think of this law's undergoing an exception
anywhere in the world of experience. We ma} r think, for example,
of the law of gravitation some day ceasing to operate, but not of this
taking place without a cause.
Kant, in his proof, has fallen into the opposite error from Hume.
This latter, namely, called mere following, all following from ; whereas
Kant, again, will have it that there is only following from, and no fol-
lowing but that. Pure understanding, undoubtedly, can alone com-
prehend following from, but mere following as little as the difference
between right hand and left, which difference, like mere following, is
only to be apprehended by pure sense. The sequence of events in time
can certainly, though denied by Kant as cited, be empirically cog-
nized, just as well as the side-by-side of things in space. How, how-
ever, something follows on another in time generally, as little admits
of explanation as how something folloivs from another ; that cognition
is given and conditioned by pure sense, as this by pure understanding.
But Kant, in holding the objective succession of sensible phenomena
to be known only by the clue of causality, falls into the same error with
which (Kr. d. r. V., 1. Aufl., S. 275) he reproaches Leibnitz, that,
namely, " he intellectualizes the forms of sense." As regards suc-
cession, m} r view is this: From the form belonging to pure sense —
time — we derive our knowledge of the mere possibility of succession.
The succession of real objects, the form of which is this same time,
we cognize empirically, and, consequently, as actual. The necessity,
however, of a succession of two states — that is, of a change — we
cognize only by the understanding, through causality ; and that Ave
have the idea of the necessity of a succession is even already a proof
that the law of causality is not empirically cognized, but a priori
given to us. The proposition in general of the sufficient reason ex-
presses, as lying in the innermost of our cognitive faculty, the basal
form of a necessary connection among all our objects, which are but
subjective states of our own ; it is the common form of all such states
•or objects, and the sole source of the notion of necessity — a notion
(3 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
which, as such, has absolutely no other true meaning or authentica-
tion than that of the appearance of the consequent when its ante-
cedent is given. That in the class of objects now under considera-
tion, where this proposition appears as the law of causaht}', their
time-sequence is determined by it, depends upon this : that time is the
form of these objects, and, hence, the necessary connection here takes
on the shape of a rule of succession. In other shapes of the proposi-
tion of sufficient reason, the necessary connection which it every-
where prescribes comes to us in quite other forms than time, and,
consequently, not as succession ; preserving always, however, the
character of a necessary connection, whereb}' there is manifested the
identity of the proposition of sufficient reason in all its shapes — or,
rather, the unity of the root of all the laws the expression of which
is said proposition.
Were the controverted allegation of Kant correct, we should rec-
ognize the actuality of the succession merety from its necessity ; this,
however, would presuppose an understanding that embraced all the
series of causes and effects at once — that is. an omniscient under-
standing. Kant has committed the impossible to the understanding,
only to stand in less need of sense.
Kant's allegation that objectivity of succession is alone known
from the necessity of the sequence of effect on cause, how can it be
reconciled with that other (Kr. d. r. V., 1. Aufl., S. 203), which
holds the empirical criterion of which of two states is cause, and
which effect, to be merely the succession? Who but sees here the
most evident circle?
Were objectivity of succession only known from the causality, it
would only be thinkable as such, and just nothing but this; for,
were it anything else, it would have other distinctive characters by
which it might be known, which is just what Kant denies. Conse-
quently, then, Kant being right, we could not say, " This state is
effect of that one, and, therefore, follows it ; " but the being sequent
and the being effect would be one and the same thing, and the dictum
tautological. And from this abolished difference between following"
and following from, Hume would be again vindicated as right when
he held all following from to be mere following on, or denied the dif-
ference to exist.
Kant's proof must be limited in this way, then, that empirically we
merely cognize actuality of succession : but as in certain series of oc-
currences we cognize, in addition, necessity of succession as well,
and even know, before alL experience, that every possible occur-
rence must have a determinate place in some one of these series ;
so there follows at once from this the reality and a priori validity of
the law of causalty, for which validity the proof assigned in section
21 is the only right one.
With Kant's doctrine of objective succession being only possible
and cognizable from causal connection, there runs parallel the other
of simultaneousness, namery, being only possible and cognizable
from reciprocity, as expounded in the "Kritik der reinen Vernunft,"
under the title, "Third Analogy of Experience." Kant goes so far
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 7
here as to say "that the simultaneousness of sensible phenomena,
not reciprocally influencing each other, but separated, as it were,
by a void space, would be no object of a possible perception"
(that were a proof a priori of there being no void space between
the fixed stars); and " that the light which plays between our eyes
and the bodies in space [an expression which foists in the idea as if
not only the light of the stars affected our e} r e, but our eye it] brings
about a community between us and them, and in this way proves the
simultaneousness of the latter." This last statement is even em-
pirically false ; as the sight of a fixed star noways proves that it is
now in the same time with the spectator, but at most that, years
ago, frequently only thousands of years ago, it was in existence.
For the rest, this doctrine of Kant's stands or falls with the former
one ; only it is much easier to see through it ; besides, the nullity
of the whole notion of reciprocity has been already discussed in sec-
tion 20.
With this examination of the Kantian argument in question, may
be compared, should it so please the reader, two earlier attacks on
it, namely, that of Feeler, in his book " Concerning Space and Caus-
ality" (S. 29), and that of G. E. Schulze, in his "Critique of
Theoretical Philosophy (vol. 2, p. 422, seq.).
Not without much misgiving have 1(1813) ventured to bring
forward objections to a leading doctrine — ■ received as proved, and
still repeated in the latest authorities (e. g., Fries, Krit. der Vernunft,
Bd. 2, S. 85) — of the man whose depth of intellect I admire and
venerate, and to whom I owe so much, and so much that is great,
that his spirit might say to me, in the words of Homer:
Ay/.bv o aii to', dri diffhiK'wrj iXoVj vj Ttplv iizJjev.
On these extracts from Schopenhauer I venture to comment
as follows : In the first sentence I object to the expression
"its a priori nature, and consequent limitation to the possi-
bility of experience." Restriction to the possibility of expe-
rience does not follow from apriority as apriority ; and
neither does Kant advance the claim for apriority as apriority,
but only for his own peculiar apriority. Schopenhauer is
not fortunate in the passage he selects from Kant in exposi-
tion of the relative theory. As I have had occasion to imply
more than once elsewhere, the second analogy of experience in
the " Kritik of Pure Reason" is the most confused and un-
satisfactory piece of writing in the whole of Kant's works ; and
if this be so with the section in general, it is equally so with
the selected passage in particular.
He "who consults the "Prolegomena" will find that Kant
8 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
fairly settled at last into two judgments for the process in-
volved in a causal inference. We first say to ourselves,
When (or if) the sun shines, the stone warms. There are as yet
but two unconnected subjective impressions of this heat and
that light. Each is but a separate feeling in our sensory.
When we add the second judgment, however, we have con-
nected the two feelings in a single inference, which inference
is now objective. But it was the category of cause and effect
enabled us to effect this. We possess this category, and,
such facts coming to us as the conjunction of light and heat,
we feel or see that this conjunction, as an example in point,
falls under the rule of cause and effect; and we say, object-
ively and necessarily, The sun ivarms the stone. I object
to this that the explanation is not competent, but a failure ;
for unless we knew, saw, or felt that the light preceded the
heat — unless we knew, saw, or felt that the light must pre-
cede the heat — we could not have subsumed the facts as a
case under the rule. Kant, of course, was quite aware that
the synthesis in imagination of the elements of a perceptive
act is really syntheses, each distinct in its own character, each
a perceptive act ; but he thought each also contingent, and, in-
deed, not yet a 'perceptive act proper, till a category acted.
He overlooked the fact that this could not be so with at least
the synthesis (A B) in causality. That category could act
only when there was a recognized first and a recognized second.
Kant, then, only invents a necessity to explain a necessity
which he must still assume. Nevertheless, in the two judg-
ments referred to, Kant brings what he holds on causality to
an articulate shape at last, and we now readily grasp it, and
see what he means. It is now explicit ; it was only implicit
before. One wonders, then, that Schopenhauer, with so
much that was better before him, should have confined him-
self to what was worst.
The section in question, for example, takes up not less than
two dozen pages ; and if Kant had but had his materials well
in hand — causality being alone concerned — he might easily
have made one or two pages suffice. As he says himself, his
materials for his peculiar work at any time are, first, time and
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 9
space, as the two pure or a priori phantasms of sense; and,
second, the elementary notions of the understanding, as
already functions of unity to the various perceptive multiples
supplied by these two pure sense-forms. Now, in the case of
causality, had time really possessed a multiple typifying the
intellectual multiple of antecedent and consequent, an ade-
quate schema or frame-work for receiving the correspondent
successions of the actual things of sense might have been put
too'ether without difficultv, and so the whole transcendental
rationale been easily accomplished. But in point of fact, at
least as I believe, Kant found himself much perplexed precisely
about a multiple in time that would tit such a succession as
antecedent and consequent (cause and effect). He was cer-
tainly disposed, in the first instance, to find the mere succes-
sion of time sufficiently to answer. The progressus of time
was a necessary one, he said ; its course was necessarily from
one moment to another-; and each moment referred itself nec-
essarily to a preceding one. It presently struck him, I doubt
not, however, that there were in things themselves more
time-successions than one. There were simple successions —
as, the very letters in the word "succession" — and there
were also causal successions — as, sun and heat, cloud and
shadow, wind and wave, frost and ice, etc. Now, the sound
u, or the letter w, though it follows the sound s, or the letter
5, is not the effect of the sound s, or the letter s. Volume I
is not the cause of volume II, or II of III. Evidently, then,
if Kant's scheme were applied to all successions in time, we
should soon have some very pretty examples of the fallacy,
non-causa pro causa. We assume Kant to have been long
puzzled here, and to have been at last convinced of the fact
that even tilings, if his a priori frame-work were to fit them,
or they it, must have a, ride themselves already beforehand, or
they must in themselves be such as to correspond to,the schema
applied. But to admit as much was to admit a rule, a neces-
sity, already to exist in that for which, precisely in conse-
quence of its subjectivity and contingency, rule and necessity
were the wants ! When this occurred to Kant, in what a
dreadful quandary (qu 'en dirai-je) he must have found him-
10 The Journal of /Speculative Philosophy.
self — his whole immense system on the topple because, of a
single miserable particular ! Yet such evidently was the state
of the facts. If any successive sensations were to be con-
strued into the schema and category of Causality, the one of
O •/ %J *
them must be already known to be such that it is always A,
as the other, similarly, that it is always B ; and that, in the
succession A B, B can never stand before A, nor A after B.
(WW. II, 164.) In all such cases, my apprehension itself
is bound down to a certain order in the very sensations it
takes up. What preoccupied Kant, no doubt, was (his one
problem) the consideration that elements of sense cannot have
necessity. Still, it must have occurred to him, and did occur
to him, that the categorical rule requires its sensuous antitype,
which, in the case of causality, must be already a rule (a fixed
order) ; and it is only at last in the " Prolegomena" that he
comes to the distinct proposal of his two judgments, the one
with a rule subjective and the other with a rule objective : 1,
when (or if) the sun shines, the stone warms ; 2, the sun
warms the stone.
With such source of perplexity as this before him, it is no
wonder that, in the section in question, he only seems to
stumble from one confusion to another. He confounds mere
Wechsel with Veranderung for example, and, though appre-
hension evidently means with him, for the most part, only the
subjective synthesis in imagination, he also uses it for the
objective synthesis after action of the schema and category.
What disturbs the reader most, however, is Kant's endless
windings in statement and restatement of the necessity that
binds the effect to the cause not being- in things themselves, or
in any qualities of them, but necessarily in us, consequently,
and in qualities (categories) of us. Whatever change
there may be in the words, this one proposition seems to
recur ever again, in unchanged identity : that necessity can-
not be in things of sense, but must be in categories of the
intellect. The jaded reader, confused and desperate, can
only mutter to himself, " And so mast be because must be."
But, even without denying the necessity of the category,
are we not to ask, when the category of causality makes choice
/Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 11
of certain sensations for its action — are we not to ask after the
grounds of its choice, and if we find these grounds to lie in a
sensuous rule prescriptive of which sensation shall be irreversi-
bly first, and which irreversibly second, shall we not say, Here
in this rule is already all the necessity that is wanted ; your
laborious a priori contrivances are all useless, and if anything*
is to be explained, explain to us, first of all, if you please,
this first rule itself? Of course, Kant replies, Do you not see
that what you call the sensuous, and I the subjective, rule can
not contain necessity, but must be followed by an objective rule
which does? We know — we may suppose him to continue —
not things in themselves, but only the affections they occasion
in us ; and if you are ever to reduce such mere ghost-world to
law, order, and objectivity, you must receive it into a neces-
sary time and space of your own, presided over by necessary
notions of your own. But the rejoinder is prompt: We
know an actual outer space, an actual outer time, and actual
outer objects, all of which are not as you say, but are things
themselves, and very fairly perceived by us in their own
qualities ; it is, in fact, their necessity we see, and not any
necessity in us — call it subjective, objective, or how you
please.
But if this be the nature of the section as a whole, the par-
ticular paragraph quoted by Schopenhauer has, as said, an
unsatisfactoriness of its own. It states (what virtually, of
course, amounts to the "two judgments") that, in the first
instance, the order in a sensational multiple is indifferent, but
that, in the second instance, when received into the a priori
machinery, it is necessary. 2 Otherwise, says Kant, there
would be a mere sport of my own subjective fancies, and
any assumption of objectivity would be no better than a
dream. Consequently, he adds, there must be an a priori
which prescribes conditions and rules to the a posteriori (of
sensation) ; and causality belongs to it. This is what we
2 That, of course, is the one flaw : it is not the case, and, even for the action of
the category, cannot be the case, that in causality the order of the "sensational
multiple" is "indifferent."
12 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
have seen already : the two main assumptions of Kant (as
derived from Hume), and his own inference from them. As
thus: 1. We only perceive our own subjective affections.
2. Subjective affections are only contingent. 3. The neces-
sity, consequently, that appears in them, and is required for
them, has an a priori source. The reasoning, as we have seen
before, is that, as this is so and that is so, such and such
must be, simply because it must be ; it utterly breaks up and
vanishes, of course, the moment it is shown that neither this
nor that is so. This, however, is not what Schopenhauer
sees here. On the contrary, he takes up the whole passage
in a wrong sense — a sense which he would never have
dreamed of imputing to Kant, had he not completely missed
Kant's general conception. That general conception is simply
this : Sensations only exhibit subjectivity ; accordingly, as
required, the categories — all the categories — shall bestow
on them objectivity. Schopenhauer has actually read that
passage of Kant as if it declared all objectivity to be bestowed
by the single category of causality alone — a blunder that,
surely, would be astounding in even a first-year's student of
Kant! In the particular paragraph, Kant, of course, has no
thought but of causality and causal multiples ; he has not the
most distant conception of enunciating it as a general rule for
all sense-multiples that they can get objectivity only from
causality. He firmly believes at this moment, Ave may say,
that his reader knows perfectly now — knows nothing more
perfectly now — than that all the categories are there for no
other purpose than to infuse necessity into the contingency of
sense ; and he would have been completely astounded and
confounded by his reader lifting his face to say : So, all objec-
tivity is given by causality alone. Lieber Gottf he would
have thought to himself, what is quantity there for, or quality
there for, or substance there for, or modality there for? Is
not every one of them wholly and solely there for no other
purpose than to produce objectivity? It is really marvellous
that Schopenhauer should have fallen into a blunder so egre-
gious as this. But not content, even yet, he adds another —
which, as being ludicrous, is worse. He actually supposes
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 13
Kant to hold that, in all syntheses except the causal one, we
can make the members follow in what order we please. This is
what he understands Kant to mean by the subjectivity of a
series, none such being - objective but the causal one. Any
quantitative series — a row of bricks, a tile of soldiers, herrings
on a spit, strung beads or strung counters in the school-ma-
chine, set chess-men on the chess-board, or draughts on the
draught-board — can be counted in different directions without
displacement of the individuals. It was exactly in this way
Kant regarded the various series in the faces of *a house ; he
never dreamed that it would be supposed he called these series
subjective, and merely under control of his own good-will and
pleasure. Even had they been subjective, no such control
would necessarily have belonged to him ; but they were not sub-
jective. A stable house was as objective to Kant as a drifting*
ship — only, for a beginning in surveying the house, he was not
bound, as he was bound in surveying (causally, not quanti-
tatively) the successive positions of the ship. The quantita-
tive series of the house he could count along or across, up or
down ; the causal chain of the ship's movements he could only
count down — without, of course, in either case, any power
to displace a unit. Schopenhauer has no authority from Kant
to apply the wor.d " Willkuhr ' : in regard to our supposed
control over what is subjective ; nay, in the passage referred
to by Schopenhauer (as regards the house), I do not even find
the word " beliebig." (See paragraphs 3 and 4 of the second
analog//.) Still this latter word might have been used with-
out error. I can count series in the faces of a house in any
discretionary order. I cannot displace these series, however;
they are not there at will of mine. Schopenhauer has alto-
gether wrong notions of subjectivity and objectivity. What
is sensible, empirical, actual, seems to be wholly his idea of
what is objective ; while phantasmata at will in imagination
loom to him as all that is subjective. Such a blunder in
Kant's regard is simply boyish. What is only sensible is sub-
jective to Kant ; and so far as we can say empirical or actual
of anything that has not yet undergone action of a category,
such empirical and such actual are also subjective. Nothing
14 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
is objective to Kant that is without necessity. What is sub-
jective, again, though necessarily only affection, is not by any
means necessarily at will. Schopenhauer, again and again,
commits the implied misreadings of Kant.
The reader must understand that what is given above as the
gist of the relative passage from Kant has been executed
from the text itself, without reference to the rendering of
Schopenhauer, and that he may depend upon it as accurate.
The imperfections of the passage have been allowed ; but what
it says is this : That a posteriori elements being all subjective
and contingent, they can and must procure objectivity and
necessity only from our own a priori categories, of which
causality is one. Schopenhauer's rendering, on the other
hand — and it constitutes his "objection" to causality in
Kant — is that Kant holds the category of causality alone to
be the minister of objectivity !
Schopenhauer's first words in interpretation of the text
which, summarized from Kant, underlies the challenge before
us, are perfectly correct. " The order of the succession of the
changes of real objects shall be perceived to be an objective
one only first of all by virtue of the causality of these." That
is the true and genuine Kant. About the end of the middle
third of the " refutation," too, we have similar correct words .-
" Only through means of causality do we perceive the objective
succession of changes." But what ojves the correctness is,
that " succession," in these two sentences, is limited to one
of "changes." Elsewhere the statement, when it occurs to be
made, is generally made without any such (accidental) guard ;
and implies, consequently, that those successions of sensible im-
pressions which have undergone causality are alone objective,
and that all other successions of sensible impressions — as,
those of a house — are subjective. That is the main under-
standing of Schopenhauer in reference to Kant's process of ob-
jectivity ; and that is what Schopenhauer, in the same reference,
believes he has mainly to fight. All the categories being min-
isters of objectivity, and nothing but such ministers, it is an
extraordinary mistake, especially in a passed Kantian expert,
to attribute objectivity to causality alone. But all Schopen-
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 15
hauer's subsequent words express such mistake, quite openly,
directly, and unmisgivingly.
The allegation that follows is this: "Kant explains objec-
tivity to be agreement of the succession of impressions with the
succession of real objects." So far as it is intended to mean
that agreement with sensible objects conditions the objectivity
of our impressions, this is peculiarly objectionable. It repre-
sents a leading mistake of Schopenhauer's : that objectivity,
namely, means only empirical perception. For objectivity, it
seems enough to Schopenhauer to point to real objects, actual
objects, sensible objects, empirical objects — as if the fact of
such sufficed, without question of their constitution or genesis.
But it is this question is Kant's whole business ; and objectivity
means, with him, necessity. Of course, wherever this necessity
appears, it is in consequence of a category curdling, so to
speak, subjective impressions into objectivity (in the usual
sense), in time and space. Schopenhauer does not well follow
all this ; thinks Kant attributes objectivity to causality alone ;
and, in considerable disconcertion, ventures to talk loudly of
other "actual' objects. Of course, the sentence will be
quite correct if by " real objects " there be understood (with
Kant) objects that have already undergone a category ; but
that is no understanding of Schopenhauer's. Neither does the
completion of the sentence, "that this objectivity [this agree-
ment, that is] is perceived only through the law of causality,"
at all help matters. The next sentence, too, only makes pecu-
liarly glaring the false ascription to Kant in regard to causality.
Schopenhauer has only misread a confused sentence of Kant's
(the fourth of the original paragraph cited), and taken it to
be general, whereas it was only special. Leaving what con-
cerns subjective impressions a moment, we pass now to the
house and the ship.
All that Kant means by these is this : In the object house
(not my subject), I can take its constitutive multiple, its parts,
in any direction, in any order, — begin and end in whatever
direction or order I please. As regards the multiple of
the phenomena connected with the ship, again, the facts are
otherwise. There the order (as to where the beginning is to
16 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
be put) is uot indifferent, but necessary and fixed. The con-
clusion is that, while it is the category quantity has made
(out , of the impressions), the object house, it is that of caus-
ality has functioned in the case of the ship. Kant, perhaps,
does not mention quantity, but no intelligent reader requires
that it should be mentioned. Very certainly, however, Kant,
although he dwells on the indifferent order in the multi-
pie of the house, never calls it "subjective." The house,
as a house, has already undergone the action of quantity,
and the multiple, in its case, is no longer subjective. All
that Kant wants to illustrate is, in multiples, the different order
under different categories, and he has no idea of calling the
one subjective and the other objective. It would precisely
stultify him, he knows, to do so. There is no question here
of the subjective judgment and the objective judgment, which
two judgments precede or fall under every one category. That
is a distinction, as I have said, that becomes prominent in the
"Prolegomena ; " and no one need, to his own confusion, refer
to it in connection with Schopenhauer, for Schopenhauer, as I
believe, never consciously or unconsciously had this distinction
of judgments in his mind. No; Schopenhauer has no idea
of the processes here but this simple one : that Kant affirms
the induction or introduction of objectivity into subjectivity
to be due to one category alone — the category of causality.
It is this alone he combats. The very mode of his combat
shows the grossness of his mistake. To Kant, the multiple
connected with the house is quite as objective as the multiple
connected with the ship ; but that he attributes to the cate-
gory of quantity, and not, laboriously and supervacaneously,
like Schopenhauer, to the various causal relations of the eye
in movement. That is a particularly acute device of Schop-
enhauer — Kant never could have denied that! He never
would have denied it. It is quite certain that the eye and
the house may be so mutually regarded ; but any such con-
sideration is quite beside the distinction Kant would demon-
strate between the order in multiples under quantity, and
the order in multiples under causality. But Schopenhauer
is quite innocent ; he is sure that the house, as also every-
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 17
thing else actual, is objective, and an object ; and, turning
the tables on Kant, he will demonstrate as much by appli-
cation of Kant's own scale! "Both cases' are "occur-
rences" — that he will "maintain." That any man should
attempt to criticise Kant in such profound ignorance of all
that was cardinal and characteristic in Kant ! Surely it is be-
yond even a tyro in the study to believe nothing " objective '
to Kant that was not an " occurrence." Schopenhauer means
no more (by his whole section) than that the house series is as
objective as the ship series — that it is not subjective; how
it would have surprised him to have been answered by an
instant, if somewhat astonished, "Of course!' Both series
are subjective affections, struck into objectivity, in time and
space, by categories. But the category that functions in the
one case is not the category that functions in the other.
The one is quantity, and the other is causality. And that
means that, in the one series, you can take its terms indif-
ferently first and second ; but, in the other, you can take
them only necessarily first and second. Or here the terms
follow from one another ; while there they follow on one
another. But though all this was so to Kant, he would cer-
tainly have acknowledged the movement of the eye to be an
occurrence ! On the whole, Schopenhauer's misapprehension
and perversion of the very elements, rudiments, and A B C of
Kant's doctrine, here and elsewhere, is scarcely credible.
Schopenhauer's first sentence in report of Kant is : " The
synthesis of the many of particulars through imagination,
that is required for every empirical perception — this synthesis
gives succession, but not yet any determinate one ; that is to
say, it leaves undetermined which of two perceived states is
the prior, not only in my imagination, but in the object."
Kant's own words are these: "To all empirical perception
there belongs the synthesis of the many of particulars through
imagination, which is always successive ; that is, the impres-
sions in it always follow one another. The sequence, however,
is, in imagination, as regards order (what must precede and
what must follow), not at all determined, and the series of
the units of the sequent impressions may be taken just as well
XIII— 2
18 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
backwards as forwards." Kant then goes on to say that if
such order is to be determined as that of an antecedent that
precedes, and a consequent that follows from it (" an order,"
says Kant, " according to which something must necessarily
precede, and when this is given, the other must necessarily
follow"), this can only take place on action of the category
of cause and effect. Kant has no thought here of the objective
series of units that follow on one another ; he addresses himself
only to the series of units that follow from one another. His
expressions are confused and imperfect, but that is really the
import he means them to carry. He never dreams of declar-
ing all sequence in imagination subjective till the one cate-
gory of causality has acted ; though his doctrine certainly is
that all such sequence — however " sensibly," "empirically,"
or "actually' introduced — is subjective till a category,
any one of the twelve, has acted. Schopenhauer represents
Kant as saying "it leaves undetermined which of two per-
ceived states is the prior;" but the actual expression is,
" must " be the prior. Kant had no difficulty with the is; he
knew impressions could come to him only in their own " act-
ual " series, and these series he could not put otherwise; but
that did not make them objective. It was the category made
them objective, the category that was brought into play as in
agreement with the special series of actual impressions — that
is, these series were themselves different, and demanded dif-
ferent categories to suit. Some series, for example, might be
regarded in any order ; others, only in one.
But besides the capital mistake of Schopenhauer, another
emerges here which (already referred to) is scarcely less
glaring. It is that the synthesis " leaves undetermined which
of two perceived states is the prior." even " in my imagina-
tion." Impressions in my imagination, so long as they are
subjective, shall be at command of my own will — to be set
here or set there, like pebbles on the beach, just as I please !
But there is no such absurd doctrine as that in Kant, who
knows, as everybody knows, that our imagination, be its
power of action what it may, is passive to the order of its
impressions, and cannot but be passive. Kant is, really, as
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 19
much subdued to "actuality' as Schopenhauer, or anybody
else. One would like to absolve Schopenhauer here, but we
fear the facts will not allow us. For example, "the succes-
sion of the perceptions of the parts of the house " are spoken
of as "depending on one's own will;" one "might cause
them to proceed in quite a reverse order." But Kant, when
he said he could count or survey the various series of units in
the surfaces of a house in what order he pleased, never meant
it to be supposed that he had these series or surfaces under
his own control — that he could actually dispose these series
or surfaces in his imagination under whatever modifications it
occurred to him to make. " The result of Kant's allegation
would be that we perceive as objective no sequence in time
whatever, except that of cause and effect, and that every
other sequence of sensible phenomena perceived by us is
determined thus, and not otherwise, only by our oivn will."
There we have the two errors — both unmistakable. "Sub-
jective — dependent on my own will;' "subjectively — by
my own will." There are other such expressions, but a single
illustration of Schopenhauer's will, perhaps, be definitive here.
It is the illustration of the tile. " I step out of doors," he
says, " and a tile, falling from the roof, hits me; there is no
causal connection between my stepping out and this falling of
the tile; nevertheless, the succession, namely that my move-
ment preceded that of the tile, is objectively determined in
my apprehension, and not subjectively by my own will, which
otherwise, indeed, would, rather, have reversed the succession.' "
Here we see ao;ain both mistakes. But as regards the latter
of them, had he possessed the power, he says, which Kant
attributes to him, he would have escaped the blow of the tile,
for, naturally, he would have made it fall first! This needs
nothing to confirm it, but it throws light on what may be
further illustrative. In his endeavor to equalize house series
and ship series, Schopenhauer says the latter would have been
quite as the former, had we " only possessed the power to draw
the ship up stream." That is an odd thing to say, but could
he ever have thought of it, if the supposed pliancy of impres-
sions in the imagination had not been vividly before his mind?
20 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
It is quite in consequence of similar conceptions that Schop-
enhauer feels doubt as to how Kant places himself in the em-
pirical world. " Neither would Kant, in the case adduced by
him, have believed himself to find a difficulty, had he reflected
that his body is an object among objects, and that the succes-
sion of his empirical perceptions depends on the succession of
the impressions of other objects on his body, and is, conse-
quently, an objective one — can very well be perceived without
the successive objects that impress his body standing together
in a causal connection." That sentence is absolutelv frightful.
Kant never reflected that his body was an object among objects ;
had he done so, he would have been in a moment aware of an
infinity of objects beside him, but not in any causal connee-
tion ! Was Kant, to Schopenhauer, merely a fool, then?
And in what a silly sense it is that objects are objects to
Schopenhauer ! " Don't you see that the contents of the em-
pirical world are objects?" he says. "Ah, yes ; so they are,"
replies Kant, with a smile, " once they are formed.'''' Nay, is
the reader prepared to hear that this Schopenhauer, who so takes
up Kant for his supposed exclusive causality, has himself no in-
strument of objectivity whatever but this same causality? His
whole theory of perception is that we know only our own sub-
jective states, but that these are thrown as objects into time
and space solely by the action of causality. Absolutely, that
is all. That is, very fairly, the whole philosophy of Schopen-
hauer. Schopenhauer has causality for his single weapon —
he limits himself so ; and because of this same limitation (but
only imputed by himself) he would pillory Kant, who has
actually eleven others ! By and by Schopenhauer objects the
brain to Kant, as if this latter, ignorant of his own body, was
equally ignorant of physiology and the nervous system !
When Kant mentions connection in subjection to rule as the
principle of objective reality, Schopenhauer exclaims, "But
of how few impressions do we know the place given to them
in the causal series by the causal law ; and yet we can always
distinguish the objective ones from the subjective ones, real
objects from phantasmata." Again, he says: "Were the
controverted allegation of Kant correct, we should recognize
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 21
the actuality of the succession merely from its necessity ; this,
however, would presuppose an understanding that embraced
all the series of causes and effects at once — that is, an om-
niscient understanding." These two passages are really based
on similar considerations with those that refer to the body
and the brain. It is an objecting of empirical fact in what we
may call its secondary laws. Actuality signifying objectivity,
it is quite true that Kant recognizes actuality only from neces-
sity — meaning not only causal necessity, however, but cate-
gorical necessity in general. All our colors and other feelings
become objects in time and space through the categories, saj^s
Kant. All our colors and other feelings become objects in
time and space through the category of causality, asseverates
Schopenhauer. 3 One wonders how, in any sense or in any
application, the latter should think the advantage to lie with
him. Kant holds that he can know the a posteriori necessity
only by possessing, first of all, an a priori necessity; and he
cannot imagine any prejudice to result to the independence of
the former secondarily, in consequence of being preceded by
the latter. The laws of physics are not necessarily non-exist-
ent because of the laws of metaphysics. He cannot see that,
though the latter prescribe form, it is any contradiction that
the former should prescribe matter. Though the causal law
is a priori, he says, knowledge of the causal process is not
a priori. No; "to that there is required the cognition of
actual forces, which can only empirically be given." We may
3 That proposition, Schopenhauer's own, his whole philosophy, falsely as-
cribed to Kant, is Schopenhauer's object of special reprobation in Kant! For, of
course, colors and other feelings are successions; and what Schopenhauer spe-
cially condemns is the proposition (falsely called Kantian) that successions be-
come objective through causality alone. Eeally, that is the single proposition of
Schopenhauer himself — impressions become objects in time and space only
through causality! It is but fair to point out that, in Schopenhauer, the causality
is only the reference by us of the subjective impression to its own self as causal
object ; whereas, in Kant, the necessity considered is that among the impressions
themselves in their own series. That is Kant's one (relative) problem, which one
almost doubts Schopenhauer ever to have seen. And yet, when he gives his
views of succession, he says : " The necessity of a succession of two states [in the
object, namely — not in my subject] — that is, of & change — we cognize ouly by
understanding, through causality."
22 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
think, says Schopenhauer, " of the law of gravitation some
day ceasing to operate, but not of this taking place without a
cause," In what way shall we say that Schopenhauer differs
from Kant in such references? Passing over that Schopen-
hauer is, in regard to an exclusive causality, alone the sinner
he would make Kant, surely they both talk of the empirical
world as conditioned by the a priori world, though perfectly
cognizant, both, of the independence of the former on its own
side. Surely, too, they both — Kant always, Schopenhauer
when thetic — view the a posteriori as not only subjective, but
contingent, and the a priori as the source of objectivity and
necessity. Yet Schopenhauer objects to Kant that, to know
the necessity of the a priori, he would require to be, a pos-
teriori, omniscient ! How of his own knowledge in the case
of causality, and in the case of gravitation? But, returning,
it would have made no difference to Kant, as regards the house
and the ship, had he reflected that his body was an object
among objects. It is precisely in that state of mind, indeed,
and precisely from that position, that he makes the illustra-
tions. Still, though his body was an object among objects, he
was quite unable to perceive that " the succession of his em-
pirical perceptions," depending "on the succession of the
impressions of other objects on his body," was, " therefore,''''
an objective one. It was precisely because that therefore did
not, and could not, in that manner, exist, that he was led to-
inquire at all ; and the result of his inquiry was to establish it
on quite another basis. Kant is quite at home — no plowman
more so — in that empirical world, once it is formed. But
how it is formed, that is his single trouble ; how contingent
subjective sensations can become necessary objective percep-
tions. Schopenhauer seems positively to overlook the very
problem in point, and to tell Kant the impressions themselves
are nil the objectivity he need seek. And, for that matter,
indeed, Kant is much more under the authority of the actual
than Schopenhauer himself, who objects the want to him. It
Avas precisely because, from its nature, he could not draw the
ship up stream, and precisely because, from its nature, he
could see the house in any way, that he applied one category
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 23
there and another here ; he (Kant) would never have thought
of " only " the power to " draw the ship up stream ! '
The remark of Kant that is taken next, in regard to time
itself not being perceived, is also mistaken by Schopenhauer.
Kant's words occur in the second paragraph of the second
analogy. Like most others in this place, they are not exact.
Still, they mean that, if we saw a thing in itself, that thing
would impose on us all that we saw, and consequently that, if
time were such thing, and no mere show of sense, we should
be compelled to accept all facts in it at its own simple dicta-
tion. All is otherwise, however, on the other alternative, and
all empirical multiples in time are only contingent and sub-
jective till acted on by a category. From these facts Schop-
enhauer's inference is: "Therefore, no succession of impres-
sions can be empirically perceived as objective — that is to say,
as alterations of the sensible phenomena in distinction from
alterations of mere subjective impressions. The objectivity
of an alteration can be cognized only through the law of caus-
ality, which is a rule in accordance with which states follow
each other. And the result of his allegation would be that we
perceive as objective no sequence in time whatever, except that
of cause and effect, and that every other sequence of sensible
phenomena perceived by us is determined thus, and not other-
wise, only by our own will." The main and accessary errors
here have been alreadv signalized ; and these errors are here,
notwithstanding the verbal correctness of the phrase " the
objectivity of an alteration,''' 1 etc. — an accidental guard which
has been previously noticed. I would only point out that it
is very absurd to suppose Kant not to admit " alterations of
sensible phenomena " while as yet subjective, and, so to speak,
crude. The phenomena of both house and ship, even while
as yet without category, alter to Kant " sensibly," according
to their own conditions, and independent of him. All manner
of lights, shades, colors, may " sensibly" alter on the retina,
long before we have made objective perceptions of them. So
of the other senses. The enormity of Schopenhauer's error
is made peculiarly glaring by the subsequent words : " The
sequence of events in time can certainly, though denied by
24 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
Kant, as cited/ be empirically cognized, just as well as the
side-by-side of things in space." Of course, it is from the
position of Kant that we talk of anything " sensible" being
still "subjective." Schopenhauer, who knows only his own
subjective states, ought, in consistency, to be as Kant. On
the contrary, as we see here, for anything to be objective, it
is enough for him if it is only sensible : " Objective — that is
to say, alterations of sensible phenomena in distinction from
alterations of mere subjective impressions !"
But Schopenhauer, for his part, " must allege against all
that " the fact " that sensible phenomena may very well follow
on one another without following from one another ! " Why,
does not Kant say the sensible phenomena of the house follow
on one another without following from one another? More
than that — this blunder of Schopenhauer's is so very gross ! —
is not Kant always aware that what his twelve categories sub-
sume may be very well named just so many different succes-
sions, all of which, when subsumed, are objective? Schopen-
hauer makes considerable play with the distinction of following
on and following from. Hume, he says, made all following
only a following on; Kant, ex contrario, made all following
only a following from; and both were wrong ! This, however,
is true neither of the one nor the other ; and only Schopen-
hauer is wrong. The truth has iust been said as regards
Kant; and of Hume, it is easv to know that he acknowledged
following from to be the cardinal principle of reason itself,
though unable to refer its origin to anything but instinct
naturally, or anything but custom p)Jtilosop)hically.
The illustration from the musical notes, which we have next,
is good in itself, but, as it is now superfluous to say, inap-
plicable to Kant. As for that of day and night, it is wholly
inept. So little is it inept to Schopenhauer himself, never-
theless, that he even seems exultingly to say it does to
death both Kant and Hume. I observe Mr. Caird, also, seems
to accept the illustration from Schopenhauer, and to regard
it as, at least, of some value. It belongs to Reid, though,
and is no property of Schopenhauer's. Reid says (Works, p.
627) : " It follows, from this definition of a cause, that night
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 25
is the cause of day, and day the cause of night. For no two
things have more constantly followed each other since the
beginning of the world." But, despite Reid, it is, as said,
only inept. How terrible soever it maybe thought, I have no
hesitation in affirming that it would hardly have drawn a glance
from either Kant or Hume. To object a mere alternation of an
indifferent first and an indifferent second, that had each its
sufficient reason in a common third something — to object such
mere alternation to either Kant or Hume — is wholly to mis-
understand both. Kant's first words under the third analogy
(reciprocity) are these: "Things are at the same time, or
together, if, in the empirical perception, the apprehension of
the one can reciprocally follow on the apprehension of the other
(which, in the case of causality, is impossible). Thus, I may
carry my observation first to the moon and afterwards to the
earth ; or, reversewise, also, I may carry it first to the earth
and then to the moon ; and, just because of this — just because
the perceptions of these objects may reciprocally follow each
other, I say they exist at the same time, or together." In
the alternation of day and night, these do not, indeed, exist
together, as the moon and the earth do (} r et, absolutely, they
are always only side by side), still it is impossible to make of
their succession an irreversible A B, for, even to Reid, B A is
equally tenable ; and, without such irreversible succession, it
is impossible that the category of causality should act — a
consideration which (however fatal to Kant's scheme for pro-
curing a necessity which the scheme itself already presupposes)
effectually defends him from the objection in review. How
much Schopenhauer is submitted to the one strange error
comes well forward here, also. " Nay, even the succession of
day and night is, beyond doubt, objectively perceived by us,
but the}^ are certainly not apprehended as cause and effect, the
one of the other." From these words it is again made plain
to us that, to Schopenhauer's belief, Kant held there could be
no objective perception except under the relation of cause and
effect. What extraordinary delusion ! Kant had never the
faintest idea of the relation of cause and effect in connection
with the succession of day and night, and yet, very certainly,
26 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
that succession was to him, also, " objectively perceived.' '
Causality apart, had not Kant actually eleven other agents of
objectivity?
The immediately following Avords but bespeak the same
blunder : We distinguish objective perceptions from mere
subjective phantasmata, in many cases, he says, where caus-
ality is not in place. Kant, of course, though with more con-
sistent ideas as to the relative distinction, would have only
cried to that, "I should think so." He would also have quite
agreed with the quotations from Leibnitz ; thinking, at the
same time, of a good many other sources of liaison (or " rule " )
besides causality, and wondering, perhaps, at the slowness to
the ordinary distinction between reality and dream.
Kant, as we have seen, reasons always in this way: Sense
is, and can be, only contingent ; there must be categories. But
again, there is necessity in sense ; consequently, categories
are. Schopenhauer, for his part, as we know, too, has only
one category — causality; and his reasoning in its regard
simply is that we attribute apodeictic validity to the law of
causality because we find we must. There is certainly anal-
ogy between the reasonings, so far as the fulcrum in each
seems must be because must be. Still, we wonder what grounds
Schopenhauer can find in this for proceeding to fling at Kant
the reproach of an " extremely surprising and palpable error."
Kant's proof (from necessity) is at least much more feasible
and full than his own.
Schopenhauer, very properly, ascribes following from to
the understanding, and following on to sense ; but the dis-
tinction is Kant's own. It is the product of the very Tran-
scendental Reflection by which Kant would, in correcting
Leibnitz, refer him to the Transcendental Topik, where sense
and intellect are assigned each its place. Leibnitz conceived
time and space as intellectual results of the conditions and
actions of things themselves. If things acted so and so on
one another, he thought, then, the conceptions of space and
time, or of things in space and time, were but logical conse-
quences. Plainly, then, Kant's reproach was true — that Leib-
nitz " intellectualized ' what were only "forms of sense ; '
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 27
for time and space are perceptions, and not mere conceptions.
Kant's action, on the other hand, is different. With him,
intellect certainly enters into perception ; but it does so only
in its own quality. It simply gives focus, as it were, to the
nebula of mere sense. Rather, then, Kant's act might be
called, not an intellectualizing of sense, but a sensualizing of
intellect. Even that, as a reproach, however, would be quite
unjust. Plato already, in the " Theietetus," showed how
intellect was necessary to sensation in order to make percep-
tion of it ; and all modern theories about the acquired percep-
tions of sense concern nothing else. In point of fact, there is
no man more open to complicated reproaches of this kind than
Schopenhauer himself; who, with what theory he advocates,
can only, and does only, convert sensation into perception by an
intellectualizing (rather, as explained, sensualizing) use of the
single category of causality. And this, certainly, is strange ;
Schopenhauer is the single person in this world who " intel-
lectualizes the forms of sense " (rather, " as explained," etc.)
by "the clue of causality," and he makes it a reproach to
Kant ! Of course, this reproach, though but another sample
of the main blunder, would have had a certain relevance, had
Schopenhauer said "clue," not of causality, but of all the
categories. It is not the fact, either, as we have already seen,
that Kant " denies " the " sequence of events in time " to be
"empirically cognized." Kant's action is simply to supply
necessity to the empirically cognized sequence of events in
time. He tells us, again and again, that the sequence of the
shining of the sun and the warming of the stone is empiric-
ally cognized (but, of course, only subjectively), even before
action of the category.
When Schopenhauer says, further, " how something follows
on another in time generally, as little admits of explanation as
how something follows from another ; that cognition is given
and conditioned by pure sense, as this by pure understanding,"
we recognize again only Kant's own Topik, and are surprised
it should be introduced as a principle from elsewhere for —
the correction of Kant. It is beyond doubt, also, that Schop-
enhauer, in the sentence quoted, does not more certainly
28 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
characterize sense and understanding as, so to speak, quarries,
each absolutely sui generis, and each simply inexplicable, than
Kant himself does. Kant accepts understanding at the hands
of ordinary school-logic without a question, and he similarly
accepts from sense, not only its inexplicable, general a priori
forms, but its equally inexplicable, endless a posteriori mat-
ter. In neither respect is there any attempt at deduction on
the part of Kant. Certain materials being given us, he only
attempts to show in what manner they are wrought up. He
knows nothing of their ivhence, nor asks. Ignorance in that
respect is a discrimen proper and peculiar of the very position
of Kant. Schopenhauer, as we have seen above, though op-
posing Kant, only makes the same avowal. But what was
consistent in Kant is, again, inconsistent in Schopenhauer; for
the latter, unlike the former, is understood to deduce the
universe. We conceive of Schopenhauer, even from the out-
side, that, being allowed the bare fact of will, he is able,
methodically and step by step, to derive from it all the other
infinite contents of the whole huge universe, the a-priori
unities of the understanding, and the a-posteriori multiplici-
ties of special sense as well. It at once chills and disappoints
us, then, to hear Schopenhauer so soon speaking of sense and
understanding, which together are the world, as both inexpli-
cable, and we wonder what it can be he demonstrates out of
will.
Schopenhauer proceeds now to a formal statement of his
views on succession. They are as follows : 1. From the form
belonging to pure sense — time — we derive our knowledge of
the mere possibility of succession. 2. The succession of real
objects Ave cognize empirically, and, consequently, as actual.
3. The necessity in a change we cognize only by the under-
standing through causalitv. 4. That we do cognize this neces-
sity is the proof that causality is a priori, and not empirical.
5. All our objects are subjective states of our own. 6. Con-
nection among these is bestowed wholly by the principle of
sufficient reason. 7. This principle is basal form of necessary
connection, lying in the innermost of our cognitive faculty. 8.
This principle is the common form of all our objects. 9. It
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 29
is the sole source of the notion of necessity. 10. That, the
antecedent being given, the consequent appears — this is the
very meaning and authentication of this notion of necessity.
11. Time is the form of the objects in which the principle of
sufficient reason becomes the law of causality. 12. The time-
sequence of these objects is determined by this principle or
law. 13. Hence, connection here takes on the shape of a rule
of succession.
One wonders when one reads these propositions. Incon-
sistency seems the burden of every one of them — inconsist-
ency as regards Schopenhauer with Kant ; inconsistency as
regards Schopenhauer with his own self. The first two propo-
sitions — the correction in regard to "actual' beinsr borne
in mind — are literally Kant's own. Then, (3) that we cog-
nize necessary connection in the relation of cause and effect
only through a law of causality, that lies in the understanding
— if that proposition is not Kant's, what proposition is? It
is, in brief, Kant's answer to Hume. Only Kant does not
think it enough to state it, he must reason it as well. Ac-
cordingly, he is at pains to demonstrate — in connection with
the subjectivity of impression and the apriority of time and
space — the fact of the understanding being constituted by an
organic system of functions (categories), each of which (caus-
ality included) is, through imagination, combined with time
into an a priori schema or frame- work for reception (with regu-
lation and consolidation) of the contributions of special sense.
That is a full, general statement of Kant's one object; and,
though I hold it to be, on the whole, unreal, and a superfeta-
tion merely, surely, in its amplitude both of purpose and
plan it contrasts very strangely with the simple assertion of
Schopenhauer; which, nevertheless, is meant by him utterly
to subvert it ! It is enough to Schopenhauer that the caus-
ality of his own understanding refers his own subjective im-
pressions to their own selves as their own causes. That
is to him an act of perception. Functions of the under-
standing, schemata of the imagination — all of them he will
explode. He retains only one function of the understanding
— causality; but, simply appending to it the word " intui-
30 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
tive," he feels himself thereby authorized to lecture Kant —
severely — on the absurdity of introducing elements of reflec-
tion j-nto the sensuous act of perception. Nor does it at all
appear inconsistent to him, immediately thereafter, and in the
same connection, to bring in himself all those reflections with
respect to position, relative distinctness, organic movements
in the eye, etc., which, constituting what are called the
acquired perceptions of sense, are so current and common
nowadays with the psychologists of every country ! 4 So little,
indeed, has he made himself at home with what is central in
Kant — the theory of perception, namely — that in the section
preceding this " refutation " (p. 80) he has these words,
which, as quite inapplicable, are utterly unintelligible : " Per-
ception, with Kant, is something quite immediate, and takes
place without any assistance from the causal nexus, and, con-
sequently, from the understanding ; he directly identifies it
with sensation!" Forgetting how much he himself, but a
moment ago, demonstrated the power of reflection in per-
ception, he would hold causality, with Kant, as being but
an affair of notions and reflection (not even called " intui-
tive"), to have no application to sense. He says, also, in
the same place (p. 81), that Kant puts causality only in con-
nection with the thing in itself, and so " Kant, then, must
leave quite unexplained the origin of empirical perception ;
with him, as given by a miracle, it is a mere affair of sense —
coincides, therefore, with sensation!" One can only hold
one's hands up. Is this the Schopenhauer who, as a Kan-
tian expert, was deferred to even by a Rosenkranz? 4. The
necessity of causality is the proof of its being a priori. Here
again, what is mere assertion with Schopenhauer has, with
Kant, at least the light of rational references. Schopenhauer,
too, who, when with only his own materials before him,
attributes the conversion of subjectivity into objectivity to
causality alone, urges everywhere, with all his might, as
4 His whole position, indeed, as regards perception, is, in effect, that of the real-
ist; and it is impossible to reconcile it with that of the subjective idealist, for
whom, to say nothing of the unreality of time and space, there do not exist even
the things in themselves which existed for Kant.
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 31
against the materials of Kant, that to conceive objectivity
dependent on causality alone, is manifest absurdity ! 5. The
subjectivity of all our sense-objects is also, of course, a
proposition signally Kantian. Schopenhauer himself calls the
distinction involved, Kant's "greatest merit." By all true
philosophy, however, it ought, very specially, to be de-
nied. 6. Sufficient reason is alone the principle of connec-
tion. Causality being with Schopenhauer one of four, is
with Kant one of twelve. Guarded so, the proposition may
be passed as Kantian. With the same guard where necessary,
propositions 7, 8, and 9 may be similarly passed. 10. Neces-
sity, with Kant, means twelve categories, and not one only;
consequently the appearance of the consequent on the given
antecedent is not Kant's sole authentication of necessity.
Nevertheless, causality being alone in view, the proposition
may be esteemed Kant's. But it is necessary to remark that,
so far as it is only succession that is in reference, all Schopen-
hauer's objections in such reference come back on himself.
We have also to point out to both Kant and Schopenhauer
that, if necessity here means only, and is alone authenticated
by, the appearance of B on the appearance of A, then the whole
question depends on the peculiar nature of A B — or, what is
the same thing, on A B being, not a mere succession, but a
change. This is the vital point of view, but it is not enter-
tained by either. Kant, indeed, has his subjective judgment
to represent it ; but here in Schopenhauer, the names apart
(antecedent and consequent), there seems to be consideration
only of one appearance after another in time. That, as
said, ought to bring Schopenhauer down on his own self. It
reminds us of what we shall presently see, that Schopenhauer,
erroneously conceiving Kant to make the mere order in time
a criterion of the causal action, is particularly loud in disap-
probation. Here, however, he seems to say the m'ere fact of
A being followed by B is the sufficient proof and guarantee
of the necessity of the relation. "The notion of necessity
has absolutely no other true meaning or authentication than
that of the appearance of the one when the other is given."
Elsewhere, too, he seems to attribute to the time-order itself
32 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
some portion of the causal efficacy. One moment, he says, is
parent of the other. Propositions 11, 12, and 13 may be passed
pretty well without comment. We shall not even object that —
some of the last averments bein£ contrasted — time would seem
now to determine causality, and again, causality time ; but, in
a concluding reference to these deliverances on succession, we
must decidedly accentuate this that, as the entire scheme of
Schopenhauer but repeats, so far, the scheme of Kant, one is
minded to look back with more than surprise on the so-called
" refutation."
But, to pass further, the sentence that follows is this : "Were
the controverted allegation of Kant correct, wc should recog-
nize the actuality of the succession merely from its neces-
sity.'" It is difficult to see how Kant's machinery can be
open to that charge. The succession in Kant, so far as it is
actual, is supposed to be recognized only as matter of special
sense, disposed in the a priori sense-forms. It is so, also, that,
as we have just seen, it is regarded in the scheme of Schopen-
hauer. Then, according to both, it is the understanding that,
through its law of causality, adds necessity. Kant, no more
than his critic, needs an " understanding omniscient of the
whole series of causes and effects at once." It is enough for
Kant that he has, in the a priori forms (space and time), an
a priori matter such that the law of causality subsumes it.
There is no reason for objecting to Kant, when occupied in
forming the world, the series of empirical causes in the world,
once it is formed. These depend on the contributions of
special sense, for which we have to wait. One wonders why
Schopenhauer should object to Kant here, any more than to
himself. One gets to think, indeed, that Schopenhauer is more
bent on objecting for the sake of objecting, than on looking
to the truth of the case, even in relation to himself. Consider
his almost sneering severity to Kant for introducing into the
act of perception forms of reflection ! Such forms constitute
for all philosophers the special instruments for the. conversion
of sensation into perception. As we have seen, Schopenhauer
is quite as others here — only he forgets his adoption of the
rationale of the acquired perceptions, and he arbitrarily names:
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 33
causality, as used by himself, "intuitive." As for Kant, he
is perfectly consistent ; he says (Prol., p. 45) : "All our per-
ception takes place only by means of the senses ; the under-
standing perceives not, it reflects only." Of course, Kant's
whole categorical scheme is for perception, is there to give
sensation focus; but it is still understanding, not sense. It
is precisely Schopenhauer himself makes the understanding
perceptive ("intuitive"). A moment ago, too, the same
Schopenhauer blamed Kant for identifying perception with
sense !
What Kant is employed on in the next reference is that,
despite the apparent contemporaneousness of certain effects
and causes — as, heat in the room and in the fire, the dint in the
cushion, and the bullet on it — the cause is always " dynamic-
ally ' first. "Accordingly," says Kant, but with only this
in his mind, " the time-sequence is certainly the only empir-
ical criterion of the effect in relation to the cause " — that is,
taking any actual case of causality, you distinguish the effect
from the cause, empirically, by its relative place in time.
But "mere succession' (following on) is "the empirical
criterion of which of two states is cause and which effect."
This is what Schopenhauer makes of it, and he cannot recon-
cile it with the other " allegation, that objectivity of succession
is alone known from the necessity of the sequence of effect on
cause ! ' " Who but sees here," he adds, " the most evident
circle?' Accordingly, the statement of his next paragraph
is one of astonishment, that, with Kant, following on should
now be equal to following from, and Hume, by his very an-
tagonist, vindicated !
Kant's proof is next to be "limited," etc., and Schop-
enhauer's own proof substituted for it. The whole of
Schopenhauer's claim in the averment, however, is simply
Kantian; "empirically we only cognize actuality of suc-
cession, but in certain cases we cognize " necessity " as well,
etc., "so there follow at once from this the reality and a
priori validity of the law of causality." Schopenhauer,
having utterly reprobated the case of Kant, only holds it up
to him again as the very thing he should have done !
XIII — 3
34 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
Schopenhauer now remarks on Kant's doctrine of reci-
procity ; but what is said refers, for point, to another section,
wheijp we find, as hitherto, only failures to understand. For
instance, when Kant talks of things being separated by a
wholly empty space, he means an absolute vacuum of exist-
ence, a cleft absolute, and not the participating empty spaces
of the astronomical heavens. This, then, we pass.
For wind-up, now, we have, on the part of Schopenhauer,
only expressions of veneration for Kant, and deprecating
apologies. He appends a line from Homer, intimating that,
like the goddess in the case of Diomede, Kant had purged for
him his eye-sight. Diomede was, in consequence of the oper-
ation, to be able clearly to distinguish god and man ; but
Kant's influence on Schopenhauer has been to make appear
before the eyes of this latter, not Kant's own plain self, but
the most extraordinary and contradictory hermaphrodite of
god and man that it were possible even to dream. 5
Samples, then, enough of the aylhq which Schopenhauer
thanks Kant for removing, we have seen to remain ; but these
samples are very far from exhausting the supply. There is
nobody whom Schopenhauer boasts himself to know better
than he knows Kant, and it is certainly hardly possible that
one man should know another worse. There are eleven
other categories besides that of causality, and in regard to
each of these Schopenhauer is as ignorant as in regard to the
latter. Without very well knowing what they are for, and
how they are to act, he rejects them all, with the single excep-
tion of causality, which, nevertheless, as we have seen, he will
accept only on his own terms — terms involving capital mis-
takes only as to the terms of Kant. That is, Schopenhauer
rejects all that (" theoretically" ) is really good in Kant — sug-
5 In the foregoing, as well as in what follows, other portions (besides the one
translated) of the hook in question, and, also, Schopenhauer's chief work, "Die
"Welt als Willeund Vorstellung," are occasionally in allusion. It is particularly
in the latter work that Schopenhauer reprobates Kant's introduction into percep-
tion of forms of reflection. Notwithstanding this reprobation, it is the same
Schopenhauer quotes approvingly, the -M>uq 6pa of Epicharmus, and similarly re-
fers to the authority of Plutarch for the necessity of mind to sense. See the former
work, about page 80.
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 35
gestion, namely, in regard to collection and tabulation of the
categories as the concrete contents of pure thought. But,
en revanche, he loudly and fervently accepts from Kant all of
Ills that (with " theoretical " reference) is either questionable
or of no account. As any one may understand without much
reflection, it is only an abuse of the commonest common-sense
to tell us we do not perceive actual outer independent things
in an actual outer independent space and time ; but it is just
this telling that Schopenhauer receives from Kant with the
most extravagant Gratitude. That is to him the foundation
of the imperishable glory of Kant — that time and space are
only subjective spectra of our own, and objects, or what are
called things, only apparent projection into these spectra of
our own subjective affections. These, nevertheless, are but
samples of Kantian contributions that are, really, of no ac-
count. Equivocal contributions, again, are what concerns
theology ("scholasticism") in Kant, the various refutations
of the arguments, ontological, cosmological, and teleological,
for the being of a God. Naturally, in his " enlightenment,"
namely, Schopenhauer is specially thankful for these. In
practical reference, he accepts from Kant the absoluteness of
will, but rejects — scornfully — the categorical imperative, and,
with it, free will, though praising the (worthless) distinction by
which Kant would save it ! In fact, he accepts from Kant — his
own whole philosophy indeed ! — only the " Maja" only what
Reid scourged as the " ideal system ; " all the rest he rejects ;
and yet he declares " his whole exposition is merely the com-
pletion of the Kantian transcendental idealism ! ' (Op. cit.
pref . )
But said dyh'jq in Schopenhauer is not limited to Kant. In
other references as well, there seem partial scales over his eyes
which isolate his vision into compartments of that empty-space
separation which — naturally ! — he so signally misunder-
stands in Kant. His different views, that is, seem each in an
independent, unparticipating world of its own, absolutely
without relation to anything else. Take his scheme of per-
ception, for example, a scheme on the credit of which he is
perpetually glorifying himself, claiming here for himself, in-
36 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
deed, almost as much glory as for his refutation of Kant's
categories — a large portion of it consists of these inferences to
whien are due what we call here the " acquired perceptions of
sense " — organic sensations of the e}^ itself, misty or clear
appearance of the object in itself or relatively, etc. But
it is only on the ordinary understanding of an external world
that such theory of acquired perceptions is really practica-
ble or consistent, and it denotes inextricable confusion in the
mind of Schopenhauer that he should still attempt to adopt
such theory while no objects exist to him but his own subject-
ive sensations. Besides these acquired perceptions, there is,
in Schopenhauer's general theory, only one other leading point,
and it is the one on which he lays the greatest stress. We
possess a priori the category of causality, he says, and by
virtue of its possession we refer our subjective states to their
causes ; and thus it is that an objective world is at once re-
alized around us. It is hardly possible to suppose anything
weaker — unless, that is, there be an outer reality. I have
the subjective affection of sweetness or of greenness, and my
category of causalhVy compels me to refer these to a cause. To
what cause? There is nothing but themselves. Is it to the
sweetness as cause I am to refer the sweetness as effect, or am
I to refer the oreenness as effect to the greenness as cause ? To
what as causes are the subjective affections to be referred?
If we have only subjective affections, as Schopenhauer avers,
then the category has nothing else to refer them to but their
own selves. That any man should start with the material of
subjective affection only, and should so lightly, easily, and
confusedly see it grow into the formed world around us,
through the category of causality, and the acquired percep-
tions of sense alone ! Such philosophizing is the very Capu-
chinery of thought.
Nor is Schopenhauer ever seen at any greater advantage
wherever else he philosophizes. Schopenhauer is not a phi-
losopher, but a litterateur; and, as a litterateur, he is, on the
whole, quite legitimately a subject for admiration. He
is thoroughly educated, and, as it is called, well-read — an act-
ual expert in several languages and literatures, ancient and
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 37
modern. He has, in the same direction also, gifts of his own.
He is really, as it is said, brilliant — expressing himself well
always, and possessed of no little ingenuity and wit. Still, even
here, I know not that he can offer contributions of any ob-
jective value. A sally in a sentence will not repay the read-
ing of a volume. Altogether, it is difficult to see for what it
was that the neglected Schopenhauer looked forward to com-
pensation at the hands of our grandchildren. Our grandchil-
dren will certainly gain no good from his weak, bungling at-
tempts at philosophizing ; and there is really not enough of
possible literary profit to tempt expenditure of time upon him.
That the Pessimists should regard him as their father and
founder, may be natural enough ; but still, surely, they are
men on their own account, and need not be, or are not, at all
indebted to any standing-ground borrowed from him.
Schopenhauer's deliverances in regard to Fichte, Schelling,
and Hegel may be referred to as in no small degree determina-
tive of his relative level. Had he known Kant, he would have
known them. That he did not know them is the convincing
proof that he did not know Kant. And he did not know them.
He contrasts his own " completion of the Kantian transcen-
dental idealism," of which we can now judge, with " Fichte's
humbug." An opinion of Schelling's is a " Curiositm," a
" leichtfertiges In-den-Tag-hinein-Schwatzen, which deserves
no place among the opinions of earnest and honest inquirers."
And, as for Hegel, it seems impossible for him to find words
opprobrious enough ; he absolutely foams at the mouth on
thought of the bare name. When " one's mind, with Hegel's
insane word-collocations in regard, in vain martyrs and ex-
hausts itself in the attempt to think something," the result is
"disorganization of brain;' for "what is Hegelei else," he
asks, " than empty, hollow, disgusting Worflcram? ' And so,
" out of a common head, nay, out of a common charlatan,
there is made," he sneers, " a great philosopher ! " — a great
philosopher who, in truth, he repeats, is but "an arrant
quack ! "
Now, Fichte and Schelling may not have succeeded ; but,
surely, it was at least a great and suggestive problem they
38 Tlie Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
took in hand. Nor less certain is it that as much — with
whatever righteous additional emphasis — can be said for
Hegel. Like Plato's " Kepublic," the system of Hegel is to
me, in a certain sense, only a poem, only an ideal ; but that
ideal is the ideal (and idea) at last of a completed philosophy.
Aristotle has, in a certain way, " gropings " after a like ob-
ject ; but, as disjunct, whatever they be in themselves, they
may, on the whole, be named "blind;" and no man but
He<rel in this universe has produced for this universe what
may prove the key — terms of explanation that at length come
up to need. And Schopenhauer, whether he accepted it or
not, ought, at all events, to have seen as much.
But, Schopenhauer apart, how many see this, even now?
"Who sees that a touch converts Kant into Hegel, and yet that
the latter, after all, is to the former very much as reality to
dream? Who sees that? and it has been already shown in
many ways. In one other way, and at its shortest, perhaps,
let it be shown once again now.
Kant's one peculiar act subjectively is Hegel's one peculiar
act objectively. That one peculiar act in both (Kant's one
peculiar act, consequently) is the Notion of Hegel. Consider
Kant's theory of perception ! So considering, is it not mani-
fest to you that Kant's one act is, through categories, Begriff
(the Universal), to reduce the manifold or multiple of sense
(the Particular) into the Unity of Apperception, Self-con-
sciousness (the Singular) — and what is that but the Notion
of Hegel ?
Hoiv that notion is explanation at length, how it is the key
of the universe, this is not the place to demonstrate. We
may say, however, that had but Schopenhauer caught a
glimpse of this, had he but caught a glimpse of the transfor-
mation now witnessed — and, necessarily then — of the consid-
erations involved, we should have been spared much. Nay,
had he but caught a glimpse of Kant's one act, the theory of
perception, as namable thus — Begriff, with Kant, is that
mental act which, combining the particulars of sense into
unity, isolates and individualizes them into separate, single,
and distinct, but correlated, objects, or entities, in time and
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 39
space — is it conceivable that he would have so belabored the
full Kant, and exalted in disparagement his own poor, meagre,
warped, and piecemeal self?
So far, however, as blindness to either Kant or Hegel is
concerned, it is only fair to Schopenhauer to regard him as
but, of many sinners, one ; at the same time that, at least in
the latter case, excuses are not wanting. Heoel in dialect
and dialectic is, for every ordinary reader, utterly unintelli-
gible. So it is that we see how very unsatisfactory — after so
many years — the general study still remains. Readers who
can quite as easily satisfy themselves in regard to the meaning
of a Hume or a Berkeley, as in regard to the meaning of a
Scott or a Dickens, naturally lose all patience with a Hegel,
in whom not one sentence seems to have sense, and eagerly
meet the spite of baffled countrymen of his own, who would
be glad to think the ?mused already used up and clone with.
But the truth is far otherwise. If the key has been found for
the casket of Hegel, and its contents described, it is quite cer-
tain that the public has never yet seriously set itself to apply
this key, or examine these contents. Something to stimulate
or assist seems still to be wanting. Much, of course, lies in the
very temper of the time. It is out of the materials of that
easket, however, that we are to build the bridge which, leaving
the episode behind, leads to the long epic of the race. Hegel's
act is, probably, as the opening of the final seal into the con-
sciousness of man. It is very interesting to hear him tell
Goethe (on whom such ideas never dawned) that " where he
[Goethe] places the Inscrutable and Incomprehensible, pre-
cisely there Philosophy dwells — precisely thence draws vindi-
cation, explanation, and deduction." Hegel's work shall be
now dead, and yet how many are there in existence who can
form any conjecture here of what Hegel means? America, at
present, is perhaps the very loudest in despair (see Princeton
Hevieiv for March and May) ; and yet, in all probability, it is
precisely America that is the place of hope. What Ave may
call academic accomplishment has seized the Germans. They
desire only learnedly to state; but what they state is, but too
often, external merely. How many statements have there not
40 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
been of Schopenhauer, to go no further, and which of them
shows even a glimpse into the truth of his relation to Kant?
Nay, which of them has ever tested and compared with their
own selves the various pieces in the machinery of this very
Kant? Certainly not, in either case, any of them that I know.
As it is in Germany, so it is in England. We, too, are con-
tented, if we shall but appear learnedly to state. We master
not the proposition, but only what is said of it by all that host
of imposing foreign names, who, empty nut-shells for the most
part, are themselves but mocked by similar shadows. The
«' literature of the subject," bless you ! what is the " subject "
itself to that? Exhibiting not one tittle of evidence in proof,
we assume to know the last and supreme formula, and to be jus-
tified, accordingly, in treating all others as de haut en has. We,
too, are academically decorous ; writing words so soft, uninci-
sive, unimpressive — putty-like — that they leave the reader
vacuous. But all this is otherwise in America, where the true
fuel finds itself at least fairly alight. In America, and not in
England, it is that there are Kant clubs, and Aristotle clubs,
and scores of young men meeting weekly to initiate them-
selves, with boundless appreciation, even into the adamantine
Hesrel.
But, be all that as it may, the ignorance of Schopenhauer
in regard to his own great contemporaries shall be the con-
cluding trait in the portrait we would draw of him ; and we
may now explain what it was that gave this operation itself
occasion. It lay in the essay on the " Philosophy of Caus-
ality," engaged to write which, it was recollected that Schop-
enhauer was very specially referred to by Mr. Caird, as well
in connection with Kant as with the particular subject named ;
and, accordingly, the necessity of consultation was obviously
suggested. One or two earlier allusions to Schopenhauer
may, indeed, be found on my part ; but it was now only that,
by direct examination, I enabled myself to speak at first
hand — with what result may be now judged.
But the reference itself, even in relation to Mr. Caird, de-
mands a word. It concerns " Schopenhauer's Objection to
the Deduction of Causality," and occurs at page 456 of "A
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 41
Critical Account of the Philosophy of Kant." In regard to
this objection itself, we have already, presumably, light enough ;
and may, allowably, therefore, venture to judge of the manner
in which Mr. Caird views it.
Mr. Caird's relative eleventh chapter, headed, "The Prin-
ciples of Pure Understanding," opens with Kant's simple dis-
tinction between his mathematical and his dynamical categories
(a distinction which, as the essay on the "Philosophy of
Causality" shows, is pretty well Hume's). The former
(quantity and quality) evidently enter into, and form part of,
objects themselves ; while the latter (relation and modality)
concern — that (relation) the modes in which objects exist in
reference to each other, and this (modality) the modes in which
they exist in reference to our minds. And what is meant is
obvious. There is no difficulty in seeing that extension and
intension are in houses, paints, syrups, etc. ; while, substanti-
ality, causality, and reciprocity concern the existence of things
in each other's regard, and possibility, actuality, and necessity
the same existence as respectively differing in validity for the
mind (what is possible is less valid than what is actual, etc.).
That the two classes should be also contrasted as ' ' intuitive
and discursive," and, again, as " constitutive and regulative,"
is plain at a glance, at the same time that these terms make
the general interest unmistakable.
What Mr. Caird observes here is "that this distinction is
now transferred to the Principles of Pure Understanding, and
it therefore becomes important to determine its exact mean-
ing." The transference spoken of is, simply, that the cate-
gories, as further discussed, are discussed in the classes the
distinction gives. That the distinction itself, once made,
should be found to continue, seems as little calculated to give
pause, as its meaning (inherence versus relativity) to puzzle.
All that requires now to be understood is that the categories
give rise to certain " Grundsatze '.' " This German word may,
certainly, be translated "principles;" but it is important
that these principles should be seen to be in the form of prop-
ositions, main or fundamental propositions, which are succes-
sively named " axioms," "anticipations," "analogies," and
42 TJie Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
" postulates." In short, there is nothing to call specially for
remarly, whether as regards the transference (which, as said,
is only a continuation to be expected and taken without note),
or as regards the " distinction," which Kant himself (and
surely with reason) thinks it enough merely to mention. Mr.
Caird, however, considers it necessary to enlarge here into a
copiousness of remark and illustration, in the midst of which
one finds one's self uneasily on the quest for relevancy.
For example, we find it said: "The distinction, as drawn
by Kant, may be stated as follows : it is possible to represent
or imagine objects without determining them as existent," etc.
This, of course, is only an edge, so to speak, of the l^^-note
which pervades a paragraph. It will suggest, however, that
the distinction in question is regarded as turning essentially
on the determination of existence as such. Now, can it be
taken ill of any one who pretends to any Kantian acquirement,
should he ask, with a sort of wonder, What, pray, has that got
to do with the intrinsic properties of objects as against their
extrinsic relations? Kant is quite as willing " to determine
objects as existent " in the case of his mathematical categories,
as in that of the d} r namical ones. The ridge between the two
slopes is not at all the consideration of existence. Kant has
no idea that his illustrations in reference to a house, degrees
of resistance, degrees of heat, etc., will be supposed to con-
cern imagination only, while drifting ships, indenting bullets,
warming stones, etc., shall be exclusively determined as " ex-
istent." Both classes of objects are constructed in the imag-
ination, and in precisely the same manner; they differ only
in the categories to which they owe objectivity. But, more
than that, both classes of objects are equally determined as
existent.
Another distinction, or rather, another wording of the same
distinction, which immediately follows is to a like effect. In
the Kritik of Pure Reason (WW. II, 760), Kant has a
foot-note to his table of " Grundsiltze ,' '' which runs thus:
"All conjunction is either composition or connection. The
former is a synthesis in which the individuals do not neces-
sarilv belong the one to the other. For example, the two
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 43
triangles into which the diagonal divides a .square do not,
considered per se, belong to each other. Of this nature is the
homogeneous synthesis in everytHing that can be mathemat-
ically regarded. Such synthesis, also, is either one of aggre-
gation or one of coalition, the former referring to extensive, and
the other to intensive, magnitudes. The second conjunction,
■connection, on the other hand is a synthesis in which the indi-
viduals necessarily do belong the one to the other — as, accident
to substance, effect to cause. This synthesis (as seen from
the examples) is heterogeneous, and yet conceived as a priori.
This conjunction, now, I name dynamical, as not being dis-
cretionary, but depending existentially on the individuals in
it. This dynamical conjunction, lastly, is also capable of a
twofold division — into, first, the physical one of objects
mutually ; and, second, the metaphysical one of objects in
their relation to the mental faculty."
There is nothing shadowed out in this note but synthesis as
under each of the four categories — quantity, quality, relation,
and modality. It serves no purpose but to allow Kant the indul-
gence of his passion for words and phrases that shall be felici-
tously distinctive ; and, certainly, there is enough here in that
kind to please any one. Hume opposes conjunction to connec-
tion, but Kant opposes composition to connection, and subor-
dinates both as species under conjunction as genus. Then each
species falls into two sub-species. Composition (mathematical
synthesis or conjunction) is either the aggregation of extensive
magnitudes, or the coalition of intensive magnitudes ; while
connection (dynamical synthesis or conjunction) is either
physical (relation — substance and accident, cause and effect,
action and reaction) or metaphysical (modality — possibility,
actuality, necessity, etc.). Then the terms in the different
syntheses, naturally, are also necessarily different. Under
composition, for example, they are like in kind (homogene-
ous), but they do not necessarily belong to each other (in th e
sense of the one being existentially due to the other — as, the
effect to the cause). Whereas, under connection, again, they
are different in kind (heterogeneous), and yet do necessarily
belong the one to the other (in the sense of being existen-
44 TJie Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
tially due, etc.). There is not an atom of difficulty or ambi-
guity in the entire passage ; and that individuals here are
existentially due, and there are not existentially due, the one
to the other, has not the slightest reference to distinction
between objects as existent or non-existent.
Mr. Caird, apparently, however, does not so readily find
himself at home in the passage. The paragraph (pages 440—
442) constitutes his relative commentary, and it is to the
effect as follows : " Homogeneous elements which do not nec-
essarily belong to each other," he conceives to refer to that
peculiarity in quantity according to which "it can be in-
creased or diminished without limit ; all that is determined by
these principles, therefore, is, not that you must combine any
element with any other, but that if you do so, you must do it
in a particular way!' Now, all that Kant means, so far, is
only, as we have seen, a synthesis of like to like, which
"Ukes'' are still indifferent to one another, and do not cause
one another. The particles of any stone are such. Surely,
then, Mr. Caird either sees something quite dissimilar to this,
or only conveys this with such left-handedness as sets hope-
lessly at fault. And what follows is worse. When Kant
only wants it to be understood that the connection of sub-
stance and accident, cause and effect, may be described as a
" synthesis of heterogeneous elements which belong to each
other," Mr. Caird seems suddenly lost in a labyrinth, in which,
coherency there is none. There is still, to be sure, external
cheerfulness of speech ; but the internal uneasiness is revealed
by this little foot-note: " Cf. Spinoza, 1. c. In the above
account of Kant's doctrine I have been obliged to introduce
more of my oavii interpretation than usual ; I could not other-
wise get a distinct meaning out of Kant's words." And, no
doubt, this is accurately the nature of the case here and else-
where. Mr. Caird, unable " otherwise to get a distinct mean-
ing out of Kant's words," onlv all too often sees into them
tropes. A simpler passage than what we have translated it is
surely impossible to find anywhere, whether in Kant or an-
other ; and it is not easy to express one's surprise that it
should have been so perverted or sublimed, so disfigured or
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 45
transformed. Nor are the neighboring passages different.
" Relation of imagination to knowledge," "Freedom of the
imagination due to abstraction," "Limitation of knowledge
by imagination," etc. — these, too, can but seem to us, as it
were, bones of the hippogriff, instead of the simple articula-
tions of Kant; and we are reminded of the "crabs, goats,
scorpions, the balance and the water-pot," which, according
to Mr. Emerson, " lose all their meanness [here, meaning]
when hung as signs in the Zodiac."
The truth is that Kant has a peculiar plan of his own to
propose, and it is only misseen when the beams of his work-
shop are extended into the firmament. These vessels and
utensils are all, very specially, his ; and it has neither consist-
ency nor meaning to lift any one of them out of its own lim-
ited perspective. No doubt, points do crop up here and there
in Kant that may profitably receive a general application, and
where names may be in place (hardly ever Spinoza's) ; but,
for the most part, that is not so, and we only lose ourselves
when we leave the very homely bounds of the critical manu-
factory. Consider the mischief that results, too — chimeras
of the brain offered as problems to the schools, and an idle
babble endlessly protracted! "Notice: No admittance ex-
cept on business." By this placard we know what is sui
generis, and on its own account ; and by just such placard is
the Kantian gateway overhung and guarded. It is idle to ap-
proach such eminently private workshop as though it were a
eosmical treasure-house, and each plain implement were to be
taken up with the child-like awe that only sees marvels of the
universe. But our object here is special, and we may, accord-
ingly, limit ourselves.
" This is Kant's general argument. There are, however,
a few inconsistent or ambiguous statements introduced into it,
and especially into that part which refers to the principle of
causality, which must be examined before we can fully justify
the above interpretation of it. Thus, at the beginning of his
discussion of the second analogy of experience, Kant distin-
guishes two cases : the case of such an object as a house,
where the sequence of our perceptions is reversible ; and the
case of a boat sailing [no, no, not " sailing," drifting; it is
46 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
the current, 'and not the wind, that is to be regarded as the
cause acting] down a river, where it is irreversible. We can
begin with either the top or the bottom of the house, but we
cannot see the movements of the boat except in one order.
[We might have seen it moving up, down, along, across, or in
anv direction, if " sailing," and not mere drifting at control
of the current, had been taken into account.] In the latter
case, therefore, as Kant argues, we give to our perception of
succession an objective value ; but in the former case we re-
gard it as merely subjective ; or, what is the same thing, in the
latter case we bring the sequence of our perceptions under
the category of causality, and in the former case we do
not." Mr. Caird, in writing this, supposes himself to be
approaching " Schopenhauer's objection," and no doubt cor-
rectly, as we now superabundantly know. Still, Mr. Caird
writes this from himself; he is not reporting from another.
This is not the oratio obliqua; these are Mr. Caird' s own
opinions. His reference to " inconsistent or ambiguous state-
ments," "especially' in what concerns "the principle of
causality," is direct; and equally direct is his intimation that
this inconsistency or ambiguity concerns Kant's statements in
regard to succession in the case of a house as contrasted with
succession in the case of a drifting ship. Further, this also
is direct : that Kant characterizes the one succession as sub-
jective, and the other as objective. Than this, there is no
other possible understanding here. But Mr. Caird conveys
the same ideas even more strongly (not more directly) else-
where. At page 454 he says: "Kant argues that the judg-
ment of sequence cannot be made except on the presupposi-
tion of the judgment of causality ; ' and at page 451 he had
already said: "Hume had maintained that the principle of
causality is simply the general expression of a subjective habit
of mind, which is due to the repeated experience of sequence ;
the post hoc is the reality which, by an illusion of the imag-
nation, is turned into the propter hoc: Kant answers that the
experience of the post hoc is itself impossible except to a
mind that connects phenomena as cause and effect." "The
judgment of sequence cannot be made except on the presup-
position of the judgment of causality ! ' " The experience of
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 47
the post hoc is itself impossible except to a mind that connects
phenomena as cause and effect! !' "No mind is capable of
the cognition post hoc that is not already capable of the
cognition propter hoc/ f / "
"Were such things here as we do speak about,
Or have we eaten of the insane root
That takes the reason prisoner? "
It was a fearful blunder on the part of Schopenhauer to
suppose Kant considered the succession of the house sub-
jective, and no succession objective but that of causality alone.
As we see, Mr. Caird fully indorses that blunder — the radical
blunder that is the theme of this essay; but then, further,
he out-Herods Herod. Schopenhauer, even making the pro-
digious blunder he did, was never so far left to himself as to
conceive the cognition of succession as succession only possi-
ble to Kant on presupposition of causality. Following on was
to him as much sui generis as following/rom. One vainly turns
the eye round and round in search of how and where Mr.
Caird could get even the dream of such things. Kant shall
have held it impossible to cognize the rows on his book-
shelves, the steps on his stairs, the laths in his Venetians, etc.,
endlessly, unless on presupposition of the category of caus-
ality ! Why, there are successions even necessarily in the
form ABC D, etc., which are not causal, and utterly inde-
pendent of causality in any reference. Everybody has heard
the chimes — at midnight, or whenever else. Ding-ding-dong-
ding, ding-ding-dong-ding ; it is quite certain that each chime
has its fixed place in the series — has at least the position of
a necessary consequent in the one direction, as of a necessary
antecedent in the other ; and yet causality has nothing what-
ever to do with either the sequence or the necessity. Ten min-
utes to nine must absolutely precede five minutes to nine ; one
o'clock, two o'clock ; Sunday, Monday ; May, June — in short,
every one moment of time another, just as every atom of space
is beside another, on this side and on that, and on all sides.
These are successions — necessary, too — and they are abso-
lutely independent of causality, whether as existent or as
cognized. Nor is it possible for any man to find Kant, at last,
otherwise than fully awake to all that these things imply.
48 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
Even Mr. Caird, in fact, only saves himself to himself here,
by resolutely looking away from all these homely considera-
tions (which are really all that Kant entertains), and having
recourse to that expedient of cosmical transelementation to
which there has been already allusion. It is in reference to
the unity of the universe, and the correlation of all its parts,
he thinks, that there is justification for Kant's (never made)
assertion that objectivity results from the category of causality
alone ! It is quite true that Kant will have the world a cor-
related unity ; but it is not true that he will have the causal
category as this unity's sole source. Every single category —
and there are twelve of them — is constitutive, as every single
idea — and there are three of them — is regulative, of this
unity. Kant, consequently, cannot even dream of making
cognition of succession, as such, conditional on presupposition
of succession causal. If Mr. Caird will consider Kant's own
illustrations of causality, he will find what a homely empirical
role that category is supposed to fulfill, and that, too, only
beside others which equally with it bestow unity, which
equally with it bestow objectivity, and so bestow objectivity
that even the succession in a house is not subjective ; and never
was either thought subjective or called subjective by Kant
himself. "Kant," Mr. Caird says (p. 457), "either forgets
or abstracts for the moment from the fact that whether we
say the sequence is due (as in the case of the house) to the
movement of our organs of sense, or whether we say that it
is due to the movements of the objects perceived (as in the
case of the boat) — in both cases we make a judgment of
objective sequence." Of course, it would be absurd seriously
to attempt to show that this sentence were quite as relevant
to the precession of the equinoxes as to Kant ; but is not the in-
fluence of Schopenhauer, to which it is wholly and solely due,
eminently regrettable? But there is no pleasure to me in this
duty that, parenthetically so to speak, has fallen upon me ;
and with these half-dozen hints — honest, as they must be —
I gladly leave it. 6
6 Only through ability to discern propter hoc, first of all, is it possible to discern
post hoc ! Were not the post of the house and the propter of the ship but a moment
ago independently and specifically side by side? To Kant himself, even in
Schopenhauer in Relation to Kant. 49
There is such a thing as a literal understanding of Kant,
in which the alphabet A B C D, etc., is the alphabet A B C D,
etc. ; and there is also such a thing as an oneiromantic under-
standing of Kant, in which W is a windmill, K a kite, and O
an owl. Or, there is an internal understanding of Kant,
and there is an external understanding of Kant. The internal
understanding smelts, melts, fuses all manner of earthy pro-
visional matter into a single diamond-point that mirrors
and comprehends all ; and he who possesses it sees all at a
glance, and can tell all in one word or a thousand. The ex-
ternal understanding, again, is academical, exegetical, formal;
and all Kant's distinctions — analysis, synthesis, axioms, an-
ticipations, analogies, postulates, paralogisms, antinomies, etc.
— verbally appear in it, one after the other, as a series of
frames that contain nothing, or that contain nightmares ;
while he that possesses it is accordingly conditioned. Such
things are exemplified, for the most part, by almost scores of
«' Introductions'''' sent in from all sides. And yet it is remarka-
ble that, always excepting Schopenhauer of course, all the Ger-
mans known to me who Avrite on Kant — Erdmann, Ueberweg,
Schwegler, Rosenkranz, Reinhold, Fichte, Schelling, Hegel,
Edmund Montgomery, al. — are, in the sense indicated, liter-
alisfs. One would have expected such teaching to have been
generally adopted ; but, no ; on the contrary, with the excep-
tion of Americans, most members of other nationalities who
affect the theme seem largely to disdain the letter, and even
to prefer, as we may surmise, the cabala of dream. In Eng-
land the very mention of German philosophy would seem to
repugn. It is only the neighboring island that shows any in-
terest in the subject. If any one will cast his eyes over these
periodical Kottabos's and ffermatltena's, or the more permanent
classical and philosophical works that issue from the press of
causalty, does not the subjective post hoc precede and condition the objective
•propter hoc? Is it not similarly situated with the categories as a whole? Is not
Kant's one problem to explain how the evident and unquestioned post hoc can
contain the mysterious and doubted -propter hoc? Or just consider this — if the
propter hoc precedes and conditions the post hoc, how did it ever occur to call the
house-series subjective?
XIII — 4
50 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
Dublin, he will recognize that the life of learning and philos-
ophy — no longer to be found at Oxford or at Cambridge, at
Edinburgh or Aberdeen — is still vigorous in Ireland's Trinity.
While there are Thompsons and Jowetts, and such eminent
younger strengths as Bywater, England indeed cannot be said
to be without Greek, and philosophical Greek. (As for Scot-
land, though the veteran Dr. William Veitch, of Edinburgh,
is probably the greatest philological Grecian out of Germany,
the Scotch, on the whole, have no Greek.) Still, as intimated,
it is in Dublin that Greek, and philosophical Greek, may at
this moment be regarded as, through strength of mutual asso-
ciation, living. There quite a fire of genius would seem to
burn now. Maguire, Mahaffy, Monck, Graham, and a whole
host of others einulously wrestle with each other, and com-
municate to their countrymen quite a heat of learning and
philosophy. In the midst of such an intellectual life, Kant, as
may be supposed, has not been neglected. And yet (will it
be possible to forgive me?) I have experienced a certain dis-
satisfaction with most of the Irish works that I have seen on
Kant. They are too academical, too exegetical, too formal.
With those eternal Mill-references, and other such, they
have, somehow, an old-fashioned look. I would have men of
such real accomplishments, real endowments — more than for-
malists. It almost pains one to the core to think that such
a gracious, vigorous, and thoroughly equipped intellect as
Mahaffy' s should allow itself to remain, at least as regards
the best of German philosophy, so glaringly on the outside.
An article in the Princeton Review for July — which, by the
by, is the immediate occasion, and " only begetter," of the
directly preceding remarks — offers, in this connection, much
material for comment ; but I must simply allow it to take its
place on the kind earth, amid so much else that is to be used
as seed, according to Carlyle, or simply disintegrated as so
much chaff. And with this I conclude, trusting always that
something of a lesson has been read, not wholly inapplicable,
whether to Schopenhauer, or to Kant, or whoever else.
Raphael and Michael Angela. 51
RAPHAEL AND MICHAEL ANGELO.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF HERMANN GRIMM BY IDA M. ELIOT.
Skilled labor presupposes a nation ; aft, a nation and a man.
Skill, even when it rises to its highest excellence, can be ac-
quired ; art, even in its lowest forms, is inborn, and cannot be
gained through any amount of diligence by one who has not
possessed it at first. Skill is dependent upon the material
which it uses, and its highest triumph is to employ and display
this material in endless variety. Art is a child of the spirit,
and her triumph is so to control the material that it shall ex-
press intelligibly to others the slightest fancy of that spirit
which wishes to communicate itself. Art speaks from soul to
■soul ; the material is only the medium through which the com-
munication is made.
But some material is necessary to both skill and art, and
for this reason they are confounded by those who are not able
to recognize the spirit through the material. These same peo-
ple, however, have heard of art, and think that through study
they can acquire that discerning power which nature has de-
nied them. Nature alone can give this power, and so it hap-
pens that they suppose that art lies in the highly-wrought,
and that what is simple is mere skill. These people form the
majority in our day, and since their desire of seeing contin-
ually something new has created the supply, it has come to
pass that a number of workers have been called artists be-
cause, through work and study, they have succeeded in imitat-
ing those symbols of true art which can be seen in the work
of well-known artists. Also, they have used materials even
more skillfully than the artists themselves, while the real
artists, whose simple thoughts required merely a simple expres-
sion, are entirely overlooked for the present. But at last the
voice of those who understand and admire them will break
forth, and the vexation which the world experiences at finding
itself deceived by false imitation will prepare for these a so
much the more brilliant reception.
"V
52 The Journal of Speculative Philoso}jhy .
This is the natural course of events. For this reason a
Bernini could excite admiration after Michael Angelo ; for
this reason were so many real artists unknown, while false
ones shone forth in the glory of passing days ; but for the
same reason justice is not forever silent, and it finall} r sets the
real in the place of honor, while it does not need to thrust out
the false, whose own weakness has let it fall into obscurity.
For creative spirit lives forever, the material is transient ;
the spirit is strengthened and grows, while the thoughts of
mankind depend upon that first creative thought of the artist
as bees upon their queen ; the material, however, is consumed
like everything external — like clothing, which falls to pieces ;
gold, which wears away; and the body, which decays. Take
two golden statues, both melted down and destroyed, the one
of which was a work of art, the other a mere piece of work-
manship ; the latter has vanished without leaving any trace,
while the other can still be seen by the eyes through which the
soul of the artist spoke to the stranger soul, making it more
beautiful and noble than before, and other souls with whom it
shared the wealth it had received were richer for that reason.
The world is full of such unknown inheritances.
Praise, honor, and reward allure and satisfy the artisan, but
to the artist these are merely the symbols of the love of a
people to whom he feels himself drawn nearer by these.
Should he feel that these Avould put him farther off, he would
despise them. Both are striving for fame, but the artist de-
sires it only as a consolation which whispers to him lovingly
that his efforts have not been vain, which says to him that
from his works the spirit which he breathes into them shall
shine forth victorious.
To the artisan, fame is merely the giving him an opportunity
to sell his works at higher prices, and to increase their sale ; an
illusion, a deception,' which comes to his aid when he con-
vinces himself that, outwardly, his productions resemble the
works of an artist — that creature hated and envied by him.
But the letter is dead, the word is everlasting.
Though the work of the artisan is despicable when it pre-
tends to be art, it is honorable when it stays within its own
Raphael and Michael Angelo. 53
domain. It takes root in a nation, and has a fertile soil. We
need it ; it bounds our existence ; as physical beings we should
be nothing without it, just as we could not exist, spiritually,
without art ; and as body and spirit cannot be separated, so
with art and the work of the artisan — they go hand in hand,
they need each other, but they are not the same.
There is no art which has not by its side a similarly named
trade, as there is nothing which cannot be seen on two sides —
one its earthly origin, the other its spiritual place among cre-
ations, considered with regard to its beauty.
Beauty has no aim — it exists ; it is its own limit, as is the
work of the artist. The useful has an aim beyond itself, and
deserves its name only when it has attained its object. One
can imagine an artist who might work alone in a desert, and
finish a statue of perfect beauty without ever asking whether
any one will ever see it except himself and the daylight ; an
artisan who should work on alone is an anomaly ; a potter who
should make, at random, vessels for which there is no use.
These very utensils, however, which are used and then thrown
away, are worthy of a double consideration. Worthless in the
spiritual meaning during this usefulness, they become, after a
thousand years, monuments of vanished culture, and the spirit
of the nation speaks from them. It is so with the painting of
the Egyptians, and even the ornaments of the old Germanic
funeral urns. For the work of the artisan has a spirit in common
with the unconscious spirit of the nation, while the artist stands
above his people and his time, and what he produces is a symbol
of his own thoughts, which he throws to his people as a gift.
Wherever art is considered, the mechanical part must also
be considered : but one must distinguish between them, or else
each will be injured by confusion with the other. In order to
do this, one must be perfectly free. He only who, without
prejudice, listens to the sound of that voice which speaks but
in the silence of the inmost heart, will recognize at once
whether a work was created in devotion to beauty. He only
can tell if it Avas made by profane hands, useful to the artisan,
who possessed only keen appreciation of the weakness of the
public, and skill in successfully flattering it. In this connection
I need only allude to the theater.
54 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
The artist represents his ideal. This word, like all of those
which signify deep veneration when spoken by connoisseurs,
has become idle praise when uttered by those who care for art
only because they hope in that way to till the emptiness of
their souls ; and, therefore, one has a horror of using it. Let
us give to it its true content.
As long as we live and accumulate experiences we are con-
vinced that nothing upon earth is perfect. While, on the one
hand, Ave recognize in everything that has happened or is cre-
ated a manifestation of laws eternally true to themselves, on
the other hand we see that these laws are subject eveiywhere
to disturbances which we call chance before we recognize it,
and we discover that, on account of endless counteracting in-
fluences, nothing appears in that completeness of which its
conception renders it capable and towards which it strives.
The soul of man yields at last to the truth of this experience,
but is, however, not satisfied with the idea that it must be so j
a feeling, firmly rooted, insists that it was not so once, and may
be different in the future. Even with this consolation the soul
is not satisfied, but unconsciously, with creative activity, from
the pattern of what it sees and experiences, fashions a spir-
itual form of creation free from those disturbances, and this
serves as a double symbol of a higher existence that lies buried
in the past, and will rise again in the future. This invisible
self-created world we call the ideal.
No man, even the humblest, is without this possession.
There is no loss which would carry this with it. The ideal re-
mains man's peculiar property as an inalienable good, and
even when it seems to be dimmed and lost, it starts anew.
It is the land to whose soil Ave all cling, whose serfs Ave all are.
It is a slavery Ave cannot escape, whether Ave proudly recog-
nize through the bondage, the real blessing or Avhether with
obstinate denial Ave seek to tear ourselves away. In every
mortal is inborn the longing after his ideal. This may grow
weary, it may be almost destroyed, but eA r en should it come to
pass that it no longer is apparent in the individual, still will a
nation, as a Avhole, possess it and never give it up. Either it
dreams of a future grandeur or it laments a past one.
What corresponds to the ideal of a nation is called by men
Raphael and Michael Angela. 55
the beautiful, the good ; those who feel this more sensitively
than others, stand high in public esteem ; those who combine
in themselves and express the feeling of the whole nation are
the men whom one loves and honors. But those in whom the
reflection of the universal consciousness is so strong that it is
clearly mirrored in them, and that they give utterance to it in
music, language, or in some other way, till it, gaining for itself
its own existence, stands there as an embodiment of what the
nation considers good and beautiful — these men are the
artists, men who raise to the highest point the veneration of
the people. They show one's own soul in the truest sense,
one's longings in the most alluring way, and one's future and
past in the purest light. They repeat with convincing words
one's most secret thoughts ; they teach one to speak their own
language. They show one's character in completeness.
"Wherever they enter, every one greets them ; wherever they go,
all thoughts eagerly follow them ; and any work of theirs that
can be obtained is valued and kept as the greatest treasure.
With such feelings do we honor Goethe, Beethoven, Schiller,
and Mozart.
The artist stands in necessarily close relation with his
people. Should a nation stand as high toward other nations
as its artists stand toward it, then its rule is extended to a
wonderful decree . The Greeks take such a hioh rank.
Phidias, Homer, Sophocles, worked for all nations and all
times ; Corneille and Kacine sang for the French only ;
Shakespeare for all Germanic nations. Those were Greeks
and this one an Englishman, and the national characteristics
form a part of their personalities. We cannot imagine them
without the soil on which they stand. But for the blooming
earth on which it shines, the sun would be a dead mass of tor-
menting clearness ; but for its rays, the world would be a dark
wilderness, a formless, horrible obscurity ; one needs the other ;
only their contact causes life to arise. In the same way a na-
tion needs its artists. The recognition and esteem of men
gives to them their name and worth, but their word and work
give to the people the opportunity of loving and honoring
them. The artist stands between the finite and the infinite ;
56 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
where the two meet, he seizes the lightning, holds it fast, and
gives it everlasting duration. Everlasting, as long as men
live who understand him ; should the people who loved him
die out, his fame would vanish with his works.
That, however, is hardly to be imagined or feared. A na-
tion does not arise and die out like a species of animal that
appears and perishes. When a nation is powerful and great,
it has had a father and mother who produced it. We cannot
always trace out the combination, but often it lies clear before
our eyes. Nations always separate, and from the various
branches, which meet on different sides, spring new nations.
More wonderful still than the physical commingling of the
races is the spiritual unison of their styles of culture. From
Koman models was developed the comedy of the Italians ;
through France it passed to England ; there it enriched the
ground upon which Shakespeare's flowers grew. From the
union of Spanish, English, Italian, and classic elements arose
the strict national form in the tragedies of Corneille and Ea-
cine; from the Egyptian, the Greek sculpture arose; from
Byzantine lifeless attempts sprang the old Italian painting ;
later, with a fresh start, the old Italian art united with the
Greek in Raphael and Michael Angelo. From how many
sources sprang Goethe's and Schiller's works? Everywhere
there is contact ; everywhere great men stand upon foreign
shoulders. The most distant elements come together and
are united in them. They never gush forth as a spring from
the rock, but from a thousand channels their life streams, the
waters flowing together ; muddy at first, but in the course of
time getting clearer, and winning a name. At last they stand
in their own individual power, and each of their works bears
upon its face the name of the artist. Men all know that there
lives but one person who could create that.
But one thing is true : if artists produce works whose divine
beauty satisfies our longing, they themselves are, like all of us,
subject to those distractions which are the inevitable dowry of
human nature. They create the ideal — they cannot newly
create themselves ; they are only the priests — what they give
is greater than they themselves are. But thej^ are the only
Raphael and Michael Angelo. 57
-ones who try to present it, and so, although they have
an individual independent life, their works mingle with the
poetry of their lives, and the desire of mankind to see both
as an undivided whole is so great that — when all facts are
wanting — one tries from these works to trace back the per-
sonal experiences of the artist. Raphael's Madonna in Dres-
den must be a picture of the Fornarina ; Shakespeare's sonnets
are a new delight to the interpreter; Goethe's, Lessing's,
Schiller's writings are examined with conscientious eagerness,
and the whole nation takes part in bringing to light the
smallest personal allusions. It loves the man, it honors him ;
he must be no empty name ; it perceives with new delight,
from a thousand earthly trifles, that this man lived as all
others do, ate and drank, and while it draws him down to
the every-day life of the times, it rises to him, with whom it
feels itself now firmly united. Still, we can never learn the
things about the real lives of great men that are known only
by those who saw them daily, and who were in a position to
feel their influence. What we picture to ourselves is always
an imaginary scene, in which we ourselves unconsciously
play the most important part. We see their lives as Ave
would like to see them. With this feeling we involuntarily
arrange all our information, make prominent what pleases us,
and pass over what we prefer kept in silence ; and it is our
longing for an ideal which teaches us to do this.
The book which has started all these reflections into new
activity is " Guhl's Artist Letters." In two volumes the
author has given a long list of letters which have been written
by painters, sculptors, and, in part, by their friends and pa-
trons. The work begins with the old Italian masters, and ex-
tends into the last century. Everywhere the most significant
passages are quoted, each is accompanied by a commentary,
and, besides this, in a short introduction, the different artists
are characterized as a whole.
There are many there who have no claim to immortality —
whose activity was merely that of the artisan, without going
very deep. There are many who are true artists — Titian, Cor-
reggio, Murillo, Rubens — of whom I shall speak here no
58 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
further. But only two deserve the higher name of great men —
Raphael and Michael Angelo. This distinction is deeper than
one might at first think. Euripides, Calderon, and Racine were
great poets ; Sophocles, iEschylus, Dante, Shakespeare, and
Goethe were great men ; Alexander, Scipio, Hannibal, Csesar,
Frederick, and Napoleon, were that also ; while Tnrenne, Eu-
gene, Blucher, and Wellington were merely great generals.. A
great man is recognized as a universal force. His soul is so
great that it makes little difference through what medium he
expresses himself, while those who are great in one special di-
rection require comparison with their kind, and imply a lower
order from which they have risen. They were more capable,
wiser, more fortunate than their comrades, who always serve
as a measure for their greatness. But the great need no such
foil ; they are separated from the crowd of mortals, and lead a
peculiar existence. They appear like broken fragments of
another planet, fallen here and there from Heaven, according
to the will of Fate. Wherever they are seen, the light all
falls on them ; the rest stand in shadow. Related to one an-
other like the members of an invisible aristocratic family, they
stand close together before our eyes, as if in a brilliant cloud,
neither century nor nationality separating them. Raphael and
Phidias clasp hands ; Frederick the Great stands no nearer
than Caesar ; Plato and Homer no farther oft* than Goethe and
Shakespeare. An earthly immortality makes them seem liv-
ing, and involuntarily we lay everything of importance at
their feet and ask their judgment. They are strangers on
the earth, and yet the only ones entitled to live here ; happier
than the happiest, and yet more unhappy than the most
wretched among us ; for we do not foreshadow [the perfect as
they do, and therefore do not feel, as they, the yawning gulf
that separates us from it, over which neither bridge leads nor
wings can carry. There are a few who were taken by an early
death before the years when the torture of isolated work is felt,
but the greater number learned, through a long life, to know
the pain which they alone could feel and bear. I name, spec-
ially, Raphael, and Michael Angelo.
They stand toward one another as Achilles toward Hercules ;
Raphael and Michael Angelo. 59
as the resistless beauty which beams on all, toward the gloomy
force which conquers all ; as a short sunny spring toward a
long year that begins in storm and ends in tempest. Raphael's
works are like golden apples which ripened in an everlast-
ing sunshine ; one sees no painstaking in them, he seems to
have thrown them off* without labor ; and even when he repre-
sents ruin, or any frightful subject, his pictures have a clear
beauty in them, and never oppress the mind of the beholder,
who is lost in admiration.
But Michael Angelo's figures know nothing of those bright
realms ; they seem to move under a heavily clouded sky, to
dwell in caves, and each rolls his fate onward as if it were a
burden of rock, which strained all the muscles to the utmost.
Earnest, sad thoughts are pictured in their brows, as if they,
in their lofty eminence, scorned the smiling existence into
which Raphael sends out his creations. With each step they
seem to remember that the earth under their feet is an iron
globe to which they are chained, and they drag after them the
invisible chain with which the Divinity has fettered them to-
a gloomy destiny.
The life of no artist will at all compare with Raphael's in good
fortune. No struggles with poverty or hostility oppressed his
youth. When a child, as we should call him, he caused the
greatest hopes ; by degrees he fulfilled and surpassed them,
soon going over a distance which no one had anticipated.
Who would have believed that it was possible for Art to attain
such height? When Francesco Francia saw one of his pic-
tures for the first time, he laid aside his brush and died of
grief, that now there was nothing more to strive after. Quickly
the youth outgrew his masters ; from painting to painting we
can trace the more complete development of his genius. At
first one can hardly distinguish his pictures from Perugino's,
soon it is only Michael Angelo, whose superiority delights him.
They knew and honored one another, but did not love each
other. That was impossible ; but each had the other fre-
quently in mind. Although there was no outspoken rivalry,
perhaps there would have been one. Raphael died in the
bloom of his life. No diminution of power, no stand-still,
60 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
no mannerism is to be seen in him, as in Michael Angel o, who
viewed and represented the world in a grandiose way. The
human form was safe in his hands ; he knew how to make sigf-
nificant the slightest turns, to put beauty into every sinew,
whether tense or passively resting. Raphael's forms ex-
hausted the possibility of human motion, as the statues of the
Greeks that of human repose, as the poems of Shakespeare
exhaust the subject of human passion, or Goethe's poems all
aspects of loving. His works are wholly perfect. Any seem-
ing faultiness is only individuality, as the eccentricities of
nature do not offend ao-ainst her laws. When we look at these
works, our longing ceases and we desire no more. "We wish
merely to look ; our thoughts vanish ; the demands of fancy are
silent and are satisfied. There is no suggestion in them that he
was painting for others — that he had in mind o-old and fame ;
he seems to have sought for his own happiness while he was
working. The goddess of beauty offered him her lips, and he
kissed them; her form, and he embraced it. What mattered
it to him whether it were seen or not ; he did not stand upon a
stage opposite his beloved one, and go into raptures of delight
in order that others should be inspired to applaud. He en-
joyed life, and painted. His pictures show a study that to-day
is unheard of, but it seems to have been to him only a delight.
It pleased him to repeat a beautiful form three or four times
before he painted it ; to represent a body in many different
postures before he used it definitely in his pictures. All flowed
easily from his fingers; it was no work — as the flowers are
not any trouble to the rose-bush.. Whatever he touched
turned into beauty. His life broke off just at the height. He
did not fade slowly away ; of a sudden he was no longer there ;
he perished like a beautiful city that sinks into the sea with all
its wealth.
A magic charm surrounded him, and possessed all whom he
met. All who were with him felt this. Wherever he worked,
envy and jealousy ceased among the artists ; all were united
and arranged themselves under him ; all loved him. When he
went to the Vatican, more than fifty of them surrounded him,
and, accompanied by them, he went up the steps of the palace.
Raphael and Michael Angelo. 61
He, perhaps younger than most of them, was more beau-
tiful, more distinguished than all. And still we have no
trustworthy likeness of him. But who does not know him?
To whom could he be a stranger? When I stand before his
pictures, I believe I know him better than his best friends who
were with him ; and so have thought millions of people since
his death, when they have been in the presence of his works.
It is the most inspiring charm of fame to be known by all and
loved by all. Fame is something very different from praise
and recognized position. Those people are not famous who
are known only through the words and writings of others, but
those who are known personally through their own works,
and about whom people feel silently that they are great, and
their works indispensable.
Raphael enjoj^ed this fame as perhaps no mortal has done
before or since. He maybe compared to Alexander, who was
as young as he, and dashed through as brilliant a course, and
also died in his bloom. Byron's fame shines with dull light in
comparison with his. He also was, in his youth, the greatest
poet of his people, and others rendered homage to his supe-
riority. But, taken captive by the circle whose incense he de-
spised, yet still drank in, he grew weak from the first, and at
last fell a sacrifice to a double life, from which he had not the
power to escape. Alexander was a royal youth. He was not
limited to the sphere in which he was, but Raphael was an art-
ist, and never anything else. He might have tried for a car-
dinal's hat. We are not now to speak of what he might have
done, or how he might perhaps have changed in the course of
his life, but only of what he really did while he lived. From
the beginning to the end, by his conduct, he fulfilled the ideal
of an artist's life, and even his jealousy of Michael Angelo
does not impair his fame, but rather raises it. For whoever
stands so high must desire to be first of all, and can endure
no one above him.
What we know concerning the mutual relation of these art-
ists is not very clear, and is of doubtful worth. Verdicts
which great men pass upon their peers, even when they sound
harsh, have not the significance of the evil words with which
62 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
mediocre natures dispute about rank. If Michael Angelo once
angrily exclaimed that whatever Raphael knew of architecture
he learned from him, he did not wish by that to make Raphael
smaller and himself greater. Goethe might perhaps have said,
in the same way, of Schiller, " What he has become has been
through me ; " as -ZEschylus might have said of Sophocles, or
Corneille of Racine. Considered in general, the words are
false, yet under certain circumstances they would be justified
at the time, and would be rightly interpreted by those for
whom they were spoken ; for these, filled with the spirit of the
voice then present, would feel the truth of the thought which
was thus expressed.
There is no praise more sublime and touching than the way
that Vasari, Michael Angelo' s friend and pupil, ascribes Ra-
phael's supremacy over all artists, not mainly to his superiority
and the wisdom of his amiable conduct, but to the essence of his
beautiful nature. All painters, not merely the lowest, but the
greatest, who were anxious about their own fame worked un-
der him in perfect harmony. Discord and evil thoughts dis-
appeared before him. If he had need of the assistance of any
artist, the latter would leave his own work instantly and hasten
to him. He lived like a prince. All followed him to honor him,
and the pope, who received him like a friend, knew no bounds to
his generosity toward him. But that did not hurt his modesty.
No one reproached him for having collected treasures. With
what a natural grace he yields to Fra Giocondo, an old learned
monk, whom the pope had given him as an assistant when he
was made the chief director of the building of St. Peter's. The
letter to his uncle, Simon Ciarla, to whom he writes on the
subject, sounds like words from a very modest youth. He
writes that he hopes to learn from him, and to grow ever more
perfect in his art. So he wrote in 1514, when he was in his
thirty-first year.
In 1483 Raphael was born, in Urbino. His father was Gio-
vanni Sanzio, " pittore non molto eccellento ; ' " his first teacher,
Pietro of Perugia, " die era cortese molto ed amator de' vegV
ijigegni." The account of the large cartoons by Leonardo da
Vinci and Michael Angelo allured him to Florence, where he
Raphael and Michael Angela . 63
stayed till his father's death. His mother then needed him,
and he returned to Urbino, and there kept in order the do-
mestic arrangements. At all times he painted — in Urbino,
again in Perugia, and, before his visit to Florence, in Civitella
and Sienna. Vasari gives a list of quite a number of isolated
productions. Once more he went to Florence and, from there,
at last, to Rome. This was when he was twenty-five years
old. He died at Rome.
What a small range of places ! Urbino, Sienna, Florence,
Rome, and, according to Passavant, we may add Bologna. All
lie so close together that one might say that Raphael had
never gone from home. Michael Angelo's travels would have
been just as limited if flight had not driven him twice to
Venice. But at that time the center ot the world was Italy,
and that of Italy was Rome. This was the time when the
Romance nations still fashioned the destiny of the world.
Next to Vasari 's life of Raphael, I would rather read what
Rumohr writes of him in " Italian Researches." Rumohr's
style is perhaps the purest imitation of Goethe's manner of
telling things, as he was accustomed to do in his old age. If
we call Goethe's style easy, then we may call Rumohr's com-
fortable. He writes as if he were speaking, and he speaks
with the measured freedom of a man who is asserting what is
exactly true. Since he lived in circles in which it was consid-
ered poor taste to utter anything commonplace, his way of
thinking and expressing himself bears the mark of excellence
in its best sense. In the German language very little has
been written, concerning art, which can take the same rank as
his writing. Passavant often contradicts both him and others
who have made the life of Raphael an object of special study.
In general, the disputed points are about trifles, the decision of
which throws no peculiar light on the life of the artist.
The editor of the artist letters has in the introduction and
notes given everything that is of importance for the sympa-
thizing reader. There are not too many letters given. Style
and content always have something specially pleasing, which
one can discover in them even if one did not know who had
written them. Still, I must not omit here one criticism which
applies to the whole book.
64 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
All these letters contain nothing that is absolutely necessary
to our idea of the real artist ; they are very important sources
of information concerning the men — nothing; more. For this
reason, although much information and many observations are
recorded, so that we can accompany the artist in his life, still
these scraps of writing form no points which, in themselves,
are such land-marks of development as paintings or events of
a spiritual or political nature, under whose influence the life
has changed its direction. The intention of the book was
merely to give the letters and comment upon them, and this
is done in a superior manner. But those who, in this book,
see before them for the first time the whole activity and the
life of the artist might suppose that these letters are important
affairs, which they are not. To-day, indeed, the letters ex-
changed between Goethe and Lotta may be better known than
those of Werther, and the correspondence between Schiller
and Goethe may be more read than their works. This is a
false tendency. Whoever studies one of Raphael's paintings ,
with its surrounding relations, learns more of him than he can
learn from all of his letters. In these remarks I point out a
peculiarity of our time, for this age prefers to seek out the
most important of the secondary items, and in considering
these the spirit of the whole often falls into the position of the
unessential.
\_To be continued.']
THE SPATIAL QUALE.
BY WILLIAM JAMES.
Mr. Cabot, in his acute and suggestive article on the notion
of space in the July number of this journal, argues that, as it
forms a system of relations, it cannot be given in any one sen-
sation, and concludes that it is a symbol of the general relat-
edness of objects constructed by thought from data which lie
below consciousness. However Mr. Cabot may differ in de-
The Spatial Quale. (j5
t:iil from the authors whom he criticises, he and they are gen-
erically one ; for the starting-point of their whole industry,
in endeavoring to deduce space, lies in their regarding as the
fundamental characteristic thereof the fact that any one spa-
tial position can only be defined by its relation to other posi-
tions, and in their assumption that position, until thus defined,
is not felt at all.
Mr. Cabot begins his article with the Hegelian thesis that
extension has only negative predicates ; that it signifies only
the indefinite " otJierness'''' of all objects of perception to each
other. I am at a loss to see how such an inaccurate identifi-
cation of a species with its entire genus can ever have been in
favor. Otherness is not space; otherness is just — otherness,
and nothing else; a logical relation between ideas of which
spatial otherness supplies us with a very peculiar and distinct
sort of instance. The ground of its distinctness from other
kinds of otherness I hold to be the special form of sensibility
which objects spatially comparable inter se awaken in us ; and
I shall endeavor in the following pages to prove that this form
of sensibility — this quality of extension or spatial quale., as I
have called it — exist at the outset in a simple and unitary
form. The positions which ultimately come to be determined
within it, in mutual relation to each other, are later develop-
ments of experience, guided by attention. These relations of
position differ in no respect from the logical relations between
items thought of in non-spatial regards. If I say A is farther
to the left than B, my relating thought is the same as when I
say a nasturtium is nearer to vermilion than a rose. When I
say "An ox is larger than a sheep," my relating thought is the
the same as when I say "Napoleon was more ambitious than
Washington." The difference in the two cases lies wholly in
the sensible data on which the thought works. In the one
case these are spatial, in the other chromatic, in the third
moral ; and would be what the Germans call intensiv in a
foruth case, if I were to say, "Camphor smells milder than
ammonia."
It seems to me that the differences of opinion to which the
question has given rise, have arisen in the failure to discrimi-
XIII— 5
66 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
nate between the mere sensible quality of extensiveness, as
such — the spatial quale, as we may call it — and the subdi-
vision and measurement of this extension. By holding fast
to this discrimination, I believe that empiricism and nativism
can be reconciled, and all the facts on which they severally lav
most stress receive equal justice. Almost all those who have
written on the subject hitherto have seemed to regard it as
axiomatic that our consciousness of the whole of space is
formed by adding together our perceptions of particular spaces ;
that there can be no perception of any extent at all without
a perception of particular positions within that extent, and of
their distances and directions from each other. Extension
becomes thus what the English psychologists have called it, an
t < aggregate of co-existing positions," and we find intelligent
writers like Mr. Sully 1 speaking of " the fallacious assump-
tion that there can be an idea of distance in general, apart
from particular distances;" whilst Wundt similarly says: 2
" An indefinite localization, which waits for experience to give
it its reference to real space, stands in contradiction with
the very idea of localization, which means the reference to a
determinate point of space."
If all this be true, Mr. Cabot is perfectly right in saving that
we cannot be aware of space at all without being aware of it
as a distinctly apprehended system of relations between a mul-
titude of parts — without, in a word, performing a mental syn-
thesis. But that we are originally aware of it without all this,
can, I think, be easily shown ; and this vague original con-
sciousness of a space in which separate positions and direc-
tions have not, as yet, been mentally discriminated, deserves,
if it exists at all, the name of sensation quite as much as does
the color, " blue," or the feeling, " warm ;" especially since,
like " blue " or " warm," it seems a simple form of retinal or
cutaneous sensibility, involving no muscular element whatever.
I will try first to show that into our cognition of space there
necessarily enters what must be called a specific quality of
1 Mind, vol. iii, p. 177.
2 Psychologie, p. 480.
The Spatial Quale. 67
sensibility, sui generis, the spatial quale. This cannot possi-
bly be analyzed into the mere notion of order or relation.
Mill, Bain, and Spencer, who so strangely keep repeating that
space is nothing but " the order of co-existences," forget the
fact that we have co-existences which are arranged in no spa-
tial order. The sound of the brook near which I write, the
odor of the cedars, the feeling of satisfaction with which my
breakfast has filled me, and my interest in writing this article,
all simultaneously co-exist in my consciousness without falling
into any sort of spatial order. If, with my eyes shut, these
elements of consciousness give me any spatial feeling at all, it
is that of a teeming muchness or abundance, formed of their mu-
tual interpenetration, but within which they occupy no posi-
tions. For the " order of co-existences " to become the order
of space, the co-existences must, in the first place, be evenly
gradated, or ordered, in themselves ; and, in the second place,
their gradations must be enveloped in the unity of the peculiar
spatial feeling.
The mind can arrange its ingredients in manv orders. The
order of positions in space is evenly gradated in three dimen-
sions, but neither the even gradation, nor the three dimensions,
nor both together, suffice by themselves to constitute its spa-
tiality. We may have an evenly gradated order of luminosi-
ties from white to black ; of tints from yellow, through green, to
blue ; of loudnesses, of all intensities, of good and evil, and so
on ; but the position of any item in these orders, although it
may be metaphorically expressed on a spatial scale, is not
directly intuited by the mind as objectively existing in such a
scale. The order is reallv a logical one, constructed out of
the mutual relations of the various items by the mind, Avhich
compares them. It lacks the sensible matrix, so to speak, of
a unifying intuition, in which the}' lie imbedded as the equally
logical order of related positions lies in space. Just so we
may arrange items of experience in three dimensions ; tones
may be arranged on scales of intensity, pitch and timbre;
colors in the orders of hue, intensity, and purity ; and the en-
tire system of all possible color and tone, thus constructed,
have been symbolized to the imagination by cubes, pyramids,
68 The Journal of Speculative JP7iilosqphy.
spheres, and the like. But no one dreams that they exist as
such, for every one is conscious that the construction is a log-
ical one, involving a conscious comparison of remembered
items and their relations. These exist separately, and to the
system which they unitedly form there corresponds no sensi-
ble, unifying quality which the mind can immediately intuit
as a unifying background, like that yielded by space to the bi-
dimensional order of objective positions.
Space, then, as we know it, is something additional to mere
co-existence and mere continuous order. The space in which
items are arranged when they are intuited by us as objectively
existing in spatial order, and not simply so symbolically figured,
is an entirely peculiar kind of feeling, indescribable except in
terms of itself. Why should we hesitate to call it an ingredient
of the sensation yielded to us by the retina or skin, which in-
tuits the items? Every one will admit the degree of intensity
of a sensation to be a part of its sensible quality. The bright-
ness of the blue sky, as I now look at it, betrays its intensity
by pricking, as it were, 1113' retina. The extent of the blue
which I at this moment see, seems to be an attribute given
quite as immediately. A broad blueness differs from a narrow
blueness as immediatelv as a bright blueness from a sombre
blueness. I may, it is true, in the exercise of conscious com-
parison, identify this particular brightness and blueness with
a certain remembered number in a conventional scale of col-
ors, and then think of the neighboring tints as they evenly
shade away from this one. So I may, by taking thought, esti-
mate in square feet the breadth of the blue surface, and locate
by my imagination its position in that total system of real
spaces which I have learnt to know as the geographic world, but
which no single retinal sensation can ever give me all at once,
because no single retinal image is large enough. For the intui-
tion of a given objective space, with its peculiar quale, must
not be confounded with the notion of the total space, in which
that and all other particular spaces lie in determinate order.
The latter is a real construction out of separate, but related,
elements. The former is a sensation — given all at once, if at
all. Any space which I can take in at one glance comes to
The Spatial Quale. (>9
me as an undivided plenum. Were it built up, as the empir-
icists say, out of a vast number of perceptions of position fused
together, I do not see how its quality could escape retaining
something of the jerky, granulated character of its composite
source. The spaces we do construct by adding together re-,
lated positions — those, namely, which are too vast to be taken
in at one glance — are, in fact, presented, to consciousness in
this jerky manner. The thought of the space between me and
the opposite wall is perfectly smooth. The thought of the
space between me and San Francisco has to be imagined as a
successive number of hours and days of riding or railroading,
filled with innumerable stoppings and startings, none of which
can be omitted without falsifying the imagination. But if,
as the empiricists say, all our space consciousness were com-
pounded of innumerable ideas of motion and position, even the
shortest space we perceive ought to be as coarse-grained, if one
may so express it, as the distance from here to San Francisco.
We are thus forced to conclude that it is a simple, specific
quality of retinal or cutaneous sensation. The quality of much-
ness or vastness, which envelops the separate positions and
particular extensions which we learn to discriminate, clings to
them always, colors their order, and makes it the special kind
of order we call spatial. Qua order, the spatial order is truly
the product of relating thought ; but qua spatial it is a datum
of simple sensibility. In the individual's psychic history
the sensation, space, as a simple vague consciousness of vast-
ness, comes first. The Held of vision — or better, the sensation
of light — can no more exist without it than without its quantum
of intensity. But hist as the degree of intensity, to be cognized
as such or such a degree, requires a long education, involving
memory, comparison, and recognition ; so the quantity of ex-
tension, to be perceived — as a given number of feet, rods, or
miles — presupposes a like education. The standard of inten-
sity is the intensity of some remembered sensation which we
choose for our absolute unit. The standard of extension is
the remembered spatial sensation of vastness, or absolute size,
which we get when certain amounts of our cutaneous surface
are excited, or when on our retina we feel the image of our
70 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
hand, foot, and so forth, at a certain average or habitual dis-
tance selected as the norm.
The spatial quale is, then, primitively a very vague quan-
tum, but it is a spatial quantum. The word vague means that
of which the external limits are uncertain, or that which is
without internal subdivisions, or both ; in the technical lan-
guage of logic, that which is neither " clear" nor " distinct."
The vaguely spatial field of vision is made clear and distinct
by being subdivided. To subdivide it means to have the at-
tention called now to one point, now to another within its
limits and upon its borders. This is a process which, amongst
other things, undoubtedly involves different local sensations
at different points, and feelings resulting from muscular mo-
tion. Its result is the measurement of the field of vision.
We may admit the coincidences which Helmholtz, Wundt, and
others have shown between visual space thus measured and
the laws of muscular movement of the eye-ball ; we may even
allow that the measurement is almost exclusively due to an in-
tellectual elaboration of sensations of motion or innervation.
But for all that, we need not in the least suppose that the
spatiality of the thing measured does not preexist as a simple
sensible quality.
It seems to me that all our sensations, without exception,
have this spatial quale. I am surprised that Riehl, whose
article is in other respects so just, should regard it as an ex-
clusive endowment of the retina. What I mean by the spatial
quality is what Professor Bain so often refers to as the " mas-
siveness ' of a feeling. The squeaking of a slate-pencil is
less spatial than the voluminous reverberations of a thunder-
storm ; the prick of a pin less so than the feeling of a warm
bath ; a little neuralgic pain, fine as a cobweb, in the face, far
less so than the heavy soreness of a boil or the vast discom-
fort of a colic or lumbago. 3
3 Should any one object that such terms as "voluminous" and " massive," ap-
plied to sound and pain, are but metaphorical, and involve no literal spatial im-
port, we may ask him why this peculiarly spatial metaphor is used rather than any
other. Evidently because of some quality in the sound or pain which distinctly
reminds us of space. If we furthermore hold, as I do, that the onty possible
The Spatial Quale. 71
The vastness of the retinal sensation seems in no essential
respect, but only perhaps in amount, to differ from these.
It need not surprise us to find an objectively small surface
yielding, when excited, a more massive sensation than a much
larger, but less sensitive, surface. How disproportionately
great does the crater of a newly-extracted tooth feel ! A
midge buzzing against our tympanum often feels as big as a
butterfly. Degree of nerve-disturbance, and extent thereof,
seem to a certain extent to stand mutually in vicarious rela-
tion. The retina, then, by the mere fact of being excited,
gives us the feeling of extent, and it differs from other sensi-
tive surfaces only in the fact that we are able to fix our attention
successively on its different points, to discriminate their direc-
tions, and so to measure it.
If one should admit that the first two dimensions of space
may thus be called part of the simple retinal sensation, but
that the intuition of depth cannot be so given, I would not
only reply, with Stumpf, that we cannot feel plane space as a
plane without in some way cognizing the cubic spaces which
the plane separates, but I also would propose the following
simple experiment : Let the objector sit with closed eyes,
and let a friend approximate some solid object, like a large
book, noiselessly to his face. He will immediately become
aware of the object's presence and position — likewise of its
departure. The perception here seems due to the excessive
tactile sensibility of the tympanic membrane, which feels the
pressure of the air differently according as an object is near it
or not. To certain blind persons this sensation is a surpris-
ingly accurate revealer of surrounding facts, and a friend ot
foundation of an analogy is a partial identity in the analogous things, we must sup-
pose the voluminousness and massiveness in question to he, at least partially, the
same with spatial bulk. Now, the category of muchness is the only partial ingre-
dient common to all the several terms. But muchness is generic, and embraces
temporal, numerical and intensive, as well as extensive muchness. But that
peculiarity in the pain and sound which makes us call them voluminous is quite
different from that which would make us call them protracted, numerous, or in-
tense. They must, then, have some other characteristic which determines their
muchness as spatial ; and this, being otherwise indescribable, is what I call the
simple spatial quale
72 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
the author, making the experiment for the first time, discrim-
inated unhesitatingly between the three degrees of solidity of
a board, a lattice-frame, and a sieve, held close to his ear.
Now as this sensation is never used by ordinary persons as a
means of perception, we may fairly assume that its felt qual-
ity in those whose attention is called to it for the first time,
belongs to it qua sensation, and owes nothing to educational
suggestions. Now this felt quality is most distinctly and
unmistakably one of vague spatial vastness in three dimen-
sions — quite as much so as is the felt quality of the retinal
sensation when we lie on our back and fill the entire field of
vision with the empty blue sky. When an object is brought
near the ear we immediately feel shut in, contracted ; when
the object is removed, we suddenly feel as if a transparency,
clearness, openness, had been made outside of us. 4 And the
feeling will, by any one who will take the pains to observe it,
be acknowledged to involve the third dimension in a vasfue,
unmeasured state.
On the peripheral parts of the retina discrimination is very
imperfect, although practice may make it much less so. If the
reader will fix his eye steadily on a distant point, and bring
his hand gradually into the field of view, he will first see the
hand, and see it as extended and possessing parts, but will be
wholly unable to count the fingers. He will see objects on the
same portions of the retina without recognizing what they are.
In like manner if he turn his head up side down, or get into
some unnatural position, the spatial relations of what he sees —
distances, directions, and so forth — will be very uncertain,
positions and measurements vague ; but who will pretend that
the picture, in losing its order, has become any the less spatial ?
Just as the current psychologies assume that there can be
u o space before separate positions have been accurately dis-
* I may remark parenthetically, upon the thoroughly objective reference of this
uneducated sensation. The observer is not aware of his feeling as such, but of the
immediate presence or removal in space of an object. The blind persons whom
I have examined with reference to their use of this sensation were entirely igno-
rant that it resided in the tympanum at all. They did not know how they came
to feel the objects, but only that they were there.
The Spatial Quale. 73
tinguished, so they assume the perception of motion to be
impossible until the positions of terminus ad quo and terminus
ad quern are severally cognized, and their successive occupan-
cies by the moving body are perceived to be separated by a dis-
tinct interval of time. As a matter of fact, however, we
cognize only the very slowest motions in this way. Seeing
the hand of a clock at XII, and afterwards at VI, I judge that
it has moved through the interval. Seeing the sun now in the
east and again in the west, I infer it to have passed over my
head. But we can only infer that which we already generic-
ally know in some more direct fashion, and it is experiment-
ally certain that we have the feeling of motion given us as a
direct and simple sensation. Czermak long ago pointed out
the difference between seeing the motion of the second-hand
of a watch, when we look directly at it, and noticing the fact
7 •/ 7 o
of its having altered its position when we fix our gaze upon
some other point of the dial-plate. In the first case we have
a specific quality of sensation which is absent in the second.
If the reader will find a portion of his skin — the arm, for ex-
ample — where a pair of compass-points an inch apart are felt
as one impression, and if he will then trace lines a tenth of
an inch long on that spot with a pencil-point, he will be dis-
tinctly aware of the point's motion and vaguely aware of the
direction of the motion. The perception of the motion here
is certainly not derived from a preexisting knowledge that its
starting and ending points are separate positions in space, be-
cause positions in space ten times wider apart fail to be dis-
criminated as such when excited by the dividers. It is the
same with the retina. One's fingers when cast upon its peri-
pheral portions, cannot be counted — that is to say, the five
retinal tracts which they occupy are not distinctly apprehended
by the mind as five separate positions in space — and yet the
slightest movement of the fingers is most vividly perceived as
movement, and nothing else. It is thus certain that our sense
7 O
of movement, being so much more delicate than our sense of
position, cannot possibly be derived from it. A curious ob-
servation by Exner 5 completes the proof, that movement is a
5 Wiener Sitzungs Berichte, lxxii., Bd. in., Abth., \ 156. 1875
74 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
primitive form of sensibility, by showing it to be much more
delicate than our sense of succession in time. This very able
young physiologist caused two electric sparks to appear in
rapid succession, one beside the other. The observer had to
state whether the right hand one or the left hand one appeared
first. When the interval was reduced to as short a time as
0.044 the discrimination of temporal order in the sparks be-
came impossible. But Exner found that if the sparks were
brought so close together in space that their irradiation circles
overlapped, the eye then felt their flashing as if it were the
motion of a single spark from the point occupied by the first
to the point occupied by the second, and the time interval might
then be made as small as 0.015 before the mind began to be in
doubt as to whether the apparent motion started from the right
or left. On the skin similar experiments gave similar results.
We are accordingly compelled to admit a sensation of mo-
tion as such, prior to our discriminations of position in either
time or space. But motion, even in this primitive state, oc-
curs in spatial form. It thus follows that we have a feeling
of space, distinct enough at any rate for motion to be appre-
hended as such, before we have anything like the perception
of a s} 7 stem of related positions, distances, or directions.
This feeling of space, involving as it does no consciousness of
relations (though it may later evolve such consciousness), can
only be called a kind of sensation.
Whether the feelings of muscular contraction and innerva-
tion, or whether the vertiginous sensation yielded by the semi-
circular canals of the ear involve also a cognition of motion
of this "distinct," though not "clear," kind mav be left
an open question. It seems, at least, not improbable that
they do. G We should thus have a certain spatial quantifica-
6 I have not seen Cyon's late work on the semi-circular canals, but I cannot
believe him to have succeeded in proving these to be the principal space-giving
organ. That they give, when excited, a vague sense of motion through a vague
room is undeniable, and they make us acutely sensible of different directions and
velocities in this motion. I imagine they subserve the finished structure of object-
ive space more by their delicate discrimination of direction than in any other way.
Right and left, up and down, are elementary sensations. If we take a cube and
label one side top, another bottom, a third front, and a fourth back, there remains
no form of words by which we can describe to another person which of the re-
The Spatial Quale. 75
tion given as a universal datum of sensibility. These prim-
itive movement spaces may be at first wholly ambiguous.
Vierordt has, in fact, tried in a striking essay 7 to show that
we are originally not aware whether a given movement sensa-
tion is performed by us or by something else upon us. Ob-
jectivity and subjectivity, direction, extent, and all other rela-
tive determinations are subsequent intellectual acts, presup-
posing memory and comparison. But these latter functions
could never work their data into the spatial form unless that
form already clove to the latter as sensations.
To sum up briefly my thesis : I say that the feeling arising
from the excitement of any extended part of the body is felt
as extended — why, Ave cannot say. The primary retinal sensa-
tion is a simple vastness, a teeming muchness. The perception
of positions within it results from sub-dividing it. The
measurement of distances and directions comes later still.
The vastness is subdivided by the attention singling out
particular points within it. How this discrimination occurs
we shall see later ; but when it has occurred, every subdivision
thus separately noticed appears as occupying a separate posi-
tion within the total bigness. Several subdivisions of a sen-
sitive surface, excited together, fuse into a broader position or
bigger space than that of any one of them excited or noticed
alone, 8 but smaller than the total bigness which they help
maining sides is right and which left. We can only point and say here is right
and there is left, just as we should say this is red and that blue, without being able
to give an idea of them in words. Now when we move our heads to the left or
right new objects dart into those respective sides of the field of vision, and thus
the sides of this field have their intrinsic contrast augmented by the still intenser
contrast of the two feelings of direction in movement severally associated with
them. Up and down, and intermediate directions, have their differentiation in con-
sciousness improved in the same way. It may be also that our visual feeling of
depth, the third dimension, is re-enforced by an associated semi-circular canal feel-
ing of floating forward. Where the third dimension is abysmal- — as in looking up
to, or clown from, a height — the association of a swimming, floating, oT- falling ele-
ment is very manifest.
7 Zeitschrift fur Biologie, 1876.
8 The single sensation yielded by two compass points, although it seems simple,
is yet felt to be much bigger and blunter than that yielded by one. The touch of
a single point may always be recognized by its quality of sharpness. This page
looks much smaller to the reader if he closes one eye than if both eyes are open.
So does the moon, which latter fact shows that the phenomenon has nothing to do
with parallax.
76 The Journal of /Speculative Philosophy.
constitute. A and B, two points simultaneously discriminated
by attention, are ipso facto felt as outside or alongside of each
other ; hut the amount of separating interval and the direction
are at first quite vague. It is only when a third point, C, has
been noticed, or rather a large number of additional pointts,
all outside of each other, that the comparison of their dis-
tances and directions fixes and determines the distance and
direction of A from B. We then feel A and B to be closer
together than B and C. We feel C to be in the same
direction from B as B is from A, and the like. And this
gradual education determines for the first time a system
of fixed positions within the total space. In a word, ac-
curate perception of any two positions as such, presup-
poses separate acquaintance with other positions. The map-
ping out of retinal space involves much experience ; the
mere perception of it as spatial, none. All these are ulti-
mate facts not deducible from anything simpler. He who
believes them is certainly to be called a " Nativist," or a
" Sensationalist."
It follows, from these propositions, that if a sensitive sur-
face is affected in its totality by each of many different out-
ward causes, each cause will appear with the vastness given
by the surface, but the several causes will not appear along-
side of each other, not even if they all excite the surface at
once. The olfactory and gustatory surfaces seem to be in this
predicament. Whatever excites them at all excites the whole
extent of them at once ; though, even in the tongue there
seems to be a determination of bitter flavors to the back, and
of acids to the front, edge of the organ. Spices likewise
affect its sides and front, and a taste like that of alum local-
izes itself, by its styptic effect on the portion of mucous mem-
brane which it immediately touches, more sharply than roast
pork, for example, which stimulates all parts alike. The
pork, therefore, tastes more spacious than the alum or the
pepper. In the nose, too, certain smells, of which vinegar
may be taken as the type, seem less spatially extended than
heavy, suffocating odors, like musk. The reason of this ap-
pears to be that the former inhibit inspiration by their sharp-
ness, whilst the latter are drawn into the lungs, and thus excite
The Spatial Quale. 11
an objectively larger surface. I will, however, not venture to
dogmatize on this point.
In like manner, a sensitive surface, excited everywhere
homogeneously, might only feel its total vastness without dis-
cerning positions therein. A foetus bathed in liquor amnii
discerns no one part of its skin more than another. But if
we wet a portion of the skin, the wet part is strongly con-
trasted with the rest, and, with the general contrast of excite-
ment, the contrast of local feeling simultaneously awakes.
Adventitious sensations, occurring on special points of a sen-
sitive surface, certainly call attention to the diversities of local
feeling resident in the points, and make us notice their sepa-
rateness in a way impossible when the surface was unexcited.
In the spatial muchness of a colic — or, to call it by a more
spacious-sounding: vernacular, belly-ache — I can with diffi-
culty distinguish the north-east from the south-west corner, but
can do so much more easily if, by pressing my linger against
the former, I am able to make the pain there more intense. I
cannot feel two local differences on my skin by a pure mental
act of attention, unless the local feelings are very strongly
contrasted indeed, and belong to quite distinct parts of the
body. But I can get the contrast of local feelings in spots
much closer together by exciting them, even though each be
excited in an identical way, as by compass-points. In cases of
this sort, where points receiving an identical kind of excite-
ment are, nevertheless, felt to be locally distinct, and the ob-
jective irritants are also judged multiple, — e. g., compass-
points on skin, or stars on retina, — the ordinary explanation of
psychologists is no doubt just: We judge the outward causes
to be multiple because we have discerned the local feelings
of their sensations to be different. Granted none but homo-
geneous irritants, that organ would then distinguish the great-
est multiplicity of irritants — would count most stars or com-
pass-points, or best compare the size of two wet surfaces —
whose local sensibility was the least even. A skin whose sen-
sibility shaded rapidly off from a focus, like the apex of a boil,
would be better than a homogeneous integument for spatial
perception. The retina, with its exquisitely sensitive fovea,
78 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
has this peculiarity, and undoubtedly owes to it a great part
of the minuteness with which we are able to subdivide the
total bigness of the sensation it yields. On its periphery the
local differences do not shade off very rapidly, and we can
count there fewer subdivisions.
But I believe that the psychologists, in making the judgment
of discrete cause, always depend on perception of discrete
position, have only stated half the truth. 9 I fancy that the
breaking up of the sensitive surfaces into positions depends
quite as much on our recognition of the heterogeneity and
multiplicity of simultaneously impinging sensations as the
latter recognition depends on our noticing the positions.
Positions which would not be distinguished if excited by
homogeneous stimuli have their local feelings awakened when
the stimuli show a strong contrast of quality. Whatever
emphasizes the quality of the adventitious feeling turns the
attention more exclusively to it, and makes us, in the same
act, aware of its place. Qualitative contrasts are counted
where they belong. On the retinal margin color contrast is
very imperfect. A motley object gives us nothing but a
blurred perception of "something there." The there is as
blurred as the something, but the moment the object breaks
into two colors the there breaks into two spots.
It follows, from all this, that the psychologic problem which
the study of space-perception suggests is not what has gener-
ally been assumed. How, after noticing certain simultaneous
differences, do Ave come to make a spatial construction of
them? That problem is unanswerable ; extent cleaves imme-
diately to every simultaneity, and position to every difference
we notice within it — all by an ultimate law. Our real prob-
9 I do not refer to the explanations of double image by misjudged dor.bleness
of position, where two organs are used — the double pea felt with crossed lingers
(see Robertson, in Mind, vol. i) and double optic images (see Wundt, Psychologie).
These delusions are no doubt due to the fact that the simultaneous excitements in
question most habitually come from two objects differently located. The objective
judgment, however, may be readily corrected by experience without the duplicity
of the local sensation, as such, being in the least altered. I deal in the text only
with the local discriminations made within the continuous bigness yielded by a
single organ, retina, or finger.
The Spatial Quale. 79
lem is : How come we to notice the simultaneous differences
at all? How can we ever evolve parts from a confused unity,
if the latter did not yield them at first? How, in a word,
does a vajnie muchness ever become a sum of discrete con-
stituents? This is the problem of Discrimination, and he
who will have thoroughly answered it will have laid the keel
of psychology.
I can only suggest here that the history of discrimination is
to a great extent a history of interaction between sensations.
It is due to the play of association and dissociatiou. In the
case that now concerns us, local contrasts which would never be
noticed, per se, are emphasized in consciousness in many ways
by the addition of other feelings to them. In addition to what
we have noticed already, I may make the following remarks.
In the first place, it is a law that sensations experienced in
immutable association are apt not to be discriminated. We
do not discriminate the feeling of contraction of the diaphragm
from that of expansion of the lungs. Experienced always
together, they form the simple feeling called " drawing breath."
Now, the purely local peculiarities of feeling in different parts
of a sensitive surface are locked into an invariable order in
our experience. We should therefore naturally expect to have
great difficulty in picking out any one point on the retinal
surface ; for example, if that surface never became the seat of
other contrasts than these immutable, local differences. The
difficulty would be still farther increased by the fact that, con-
sidered in abstractor local differences are utterly insipid, and
carry with them no difference of emotional interest. But
emotional interests are the sreat guides to selective attention.
One retinal position, therefore, could hardly be singled out
from any other before an interesting object had come to occupy
it. It might then share the interest of the object, and be
noticed. Again, the local differences, per se, may be very
slight quantitatively, and require an adventitious sensation,
superinduced upon them, to awaken the attention. But after
the attention has once been awakened in this way, it may con-
tinue to be conscious of the unaided difference ; just as a sail
on the horizon may be too faint for us to notice until some
80 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
one's finger placed against the spot has pointed it out to us,
but mav then remain visible after the finger has been with-
drawn.
On the skin the purelv local contrasts of feeling seem slight
whilst the adventitious sensations, that may simultaneously
come and perch in different near spots, are few in kind. But
who can doubt that if, instead of receiving the same kind of
sensation from the outer world at each point, a square inch of
the skin might be checkered all over with spots of heat and
cold, of itching, throbbing, stinging, pressure, and suction, our
local analysis of it would be far more delicate. But this im-
aginarv condition of the skin is the actual condition of the
retina, with its power to be simultaneously impressed by the
most widely contrasted and most sharply diversified adventi-
tious feelings. The retina can at once feel white and black,
but the ear cannot so feel sound and silence. The addition of
mobility to these two peculiarities of the retina multiplies
enormously their separate effects as aids to discrimination.
A luminous point, moving from a to b on the retina, will
awaken the perception of movement in space which we saw
above to be primordial ; which, in fact, excites the attention
more than any other retinal sensation, so that the marginal
parts of the retina may be said to be mere sentinels, saying,
" Who goes there?" and calling the fovea to the spot. The
tract moved over is thus most vividly accentuated and marked
off from the environment. Moreover, a sensation but dimly
segregated whilst on the margin of the field of view has its
quality distinctly contrasted with all the rest the moment we
turn the fovea upon it, and may then remain distinguished
when it resumes its marginal position. The number of forms
and colors we learn to separate from each other is thus
increased, whilst the incessant wandering of the forms and
colors from point to point must inevitably, by that " law of
dissociation by varying concomitants" of which I have spoken
in a previous article, 10 drag the purely local feelings, not
only apart from each other in consciousness, but also apart
10 On Brute and Human Intellect. This Journal, vol. xii, p. 236.
The Spatial Quale. 81
from any constant association with particular forms and col-
ors, and end by letting them roll out isolatedly upon the
table of the mind, where they then are felt as so many posi-
tions, pure and simple.
In yet another way the local feelings, if very slight, may be
discriminated by the aid of motion. It seems to be one of
the laws of discrimination that two feelings, whose- contrast
is so slight as to pass unnoticed, may end \\y becoming distin-
tinguished, in case they severally form associations with other
bodies of feeling whose contrast is more massive. The mas-
sive contrast takes, as it were, the smaller one in its tow.
The slightlv differing feelings are dragged asunder, and after-
wards, by a process we cannot explain, remain segregated and
discernibly in se. Thus, Madeira and sherry may be indis-
tinguishable at first to my taste : but, if I get to associate the
taste of one with Brown's table and the taste of the other
with Smith's, I will presently, on tasting Madeira, be re-
minded of Brown's dining-room by something in the Avine, and
will then use the name Madeira, which is also associated with
the same experiences. Later still, the "something" itself is
cognized as a characteristic flavor. To apply this to the eye,
each peripheral retinal point becomes habitually associated
with the one peculiar feeling of movement necessary to bring
the object which occupies it to the fovea. If two feelings of
movement are more massively contrasted, inter se, than two
retinal local feelings, they may drag these out from their first
confounded state, just as Brown's table and Smith's drag
sherry apart from Madeira.
It is no wonder then that the retina, whose pe'culiarities of
structure so enormously facilitate the intricacy of association
and dissociation, should be the organ in which all discrimina-
tion, local as well as qualitative, is at its maximum.
I have said nothing yet about the quantitative measurement
of retinal distances. It seems quite certainly performed by
the aid of movement, which, superimposing the same line or
figure on different tracts of the retinal surface, marks them off
as tracts equal to each other. Feelings of innervation and
contraction, quantitatively compared with each other in con-
XIII — 6
82 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
sciousness, may also be used to estimate the equivalence of
retinal tracts on which the same image cannot be successively
superposed. I assuredly have nothing to add to the admira-
ble labors of the German physiologist on the Ausmessung des
JSeefeldes, and do not venture to decide between Classen's
views and those of Wundt and Helmholtz. I merely call
attention to the fact that these quantitative equivalencies are
woven by the muscles into a previously existing spatial surface,
in which the general bearing of the several included positions
is already defined. The equivalencies have no more to do
with constituting the spatiality, as such, than the numbers on
a block of houses have to do with constituting; their habita-
bilitv. Most authors assume that without muscular feelings
the spatial form of consciousness could not exist at all. They
either constitute it or help create it. M. Delbceuf more
clearly than any one, says, in his Psychologie comme science
naturelle, that they constitute it ; and in his brilliant and orig-
inal article on Vision ll he maintains that a punctiform sense
organ, which could only be excited by a line of force vertical to
its surface, Avould, if made to move from the point A (which
sends one such line down upon it) to the point B (which sends
another), affect us with the consciousness that A and B were
situated beside each other in space, at a distance measured by
the intervening movement. If, for instance, we have a punc-
tiform ear at the bottom of a tube which admits only such air
waves as coincide with its axis, we should, according to M.
Delbceuf, b}' rotating this tube, first upon the trombone,
then upon the drum, and then upon other instruments of the
orchestra, acquire a perfectly topographic field of sound, as
spatial as that of the retina, the position of each sonorous
ingredient being defined by the movement which calls it into
existence. The reason why the actual ear gives us no such
distinct field is, according to M. Delbceuf, because our ear is
so constructed that, no matter which way we move it, we are
always conscious of the same sounds, the utmost alteration
11 Revue Philosophique, T. iv., pp. 173, 183. "La faculte de se mouvoir en
sachant qiCon se ineut.'"
The Sx*atial Quale. 83
being a slight change in relative intensity. Now I believe this
is entirely incorrect, and that we have not the shadow of a rea-
son to suppose that, were the trombone to become silent the
moment we moved our ear from it towards the drum, and the
latter not to sound until, so to speak, we had accurately
sighted it, we should form any notion that they coexisted,
separated by an interval of space. Sounds and motions would
form pure succession in time, like the succession of notes sep-
arated by muscular feelings in the larynx when we sing a
scale. 12
The only organ which can give a feeling of space is an
extended, not a punctiform organ. When the retina fixates,
first A and then B, B comes into the field without A vanishing.
For a time they are actually felt to coexist as simultaneous
retinal sensations, distinguished from each other by the analytic
attention. This form of presence, and no mere linking by
motion, makes their arrangement spatial. All that motion can
•do is to help us distinguish A from B as they lie side by side.
In the retina it does this by rapidly altering their sensible
quality. When the fovea is on A,, A is bright ; when it moves
to B, B is bright. In this way it breaks A and B apart, and
we perceive their separate positions. A motion which should
occur without in any way altering the relative intensity or
quality of the coexistent feelings would in no way aid us to
distinguish them. It would help our space perception quite
as little as the motion of M. Delboeuf 's punctiform organ,
which, by altogether annihilating A the moment B was at-
tended to, might be considered as occupying the opposite
extreme. The retina forms the golden mean.
So far, it seems to me, we have met with no great difficul-
ties. What has made students of the subject disinclined to
admit that the retinal sensations, purely as such, have a primi-
tive, spatial collaterally in consciousness, has been the fact
12 The ascription of height and depth to certain notes seems due, not to any local-
ization of the sounds, but to the fact that a feeling of vibration in the chest and
tension in the gullet accompanies the singing of a bass note, whilst when we sing
high the palatine mucous membrane is drawn upon by the muscles which move
the larynx, and awakens a feeling in the roof of the mouth.
84 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
that the same amount of excited retina can suggest the most
various, absolute, and relative direction and size in the object
whose image occupies it, according to the circumstances. If
the native determinations of space by the retina be so over-
powered by the suggestions of experience, there can, these
authors think, be nothing intuitive about them.
But this difficulty is easily cleared away by reflecting that
the determinations of size, shape, and so forth, in question,
pertain to the objective world of things, as we deem them
absolutely to exist. These objective spaces may very well not
be intuitive, but constructed by Association and Selection, out
of various subjective spatial experiences, partly tactile, partly
locomotor, partly retinal experiences taken from other points
of view than the present. And the present retinal sensation,
with its spatial characteristics, may quite as well be used as a
sign of these other spatial characteristics as the sound bang
may be the sign of the widely different sound made by the
explosion of a cannon. Underneath all this complex and
varying objective import of the retinal sensation, the subjective
sensation itself persists, with all its parts, alongside each
other, in the full spatial collaterally which nativists claim for
them. It is true, that most men overlook it, because the
import is of more practical moment to them than the sign.
But artists and physiologists train their attention to observe
the sensation in se, and I am not aware that any one of them
has ever professed to find it devoid of the spatial quale.
Such abundant room thus appears to be left for the achieve-
ments of empiricists in the study of this objective construc-
tion that they need not grudge to the nativists the little gift
of primordial bigness and collateral subdivision which the
latter are contented to "beg' at the outset of their task.
The only point which, in my mind, casts the least doubt on
their assumption is drawn from the ear. Though we are able
by that organ to discriminate coexistent voices, or pitches, we
do not necessarily arrange them alongside of each other. At
most, the high tone is felt as a thin, bright streak on a broader,
darker background. It may be, however, that the terminal
organs of the acoustic nerve are excited all at once by sounds
The Spatial Quale. 85
of any pitch, as the whole retina would be by every luminous
point if there were no dioptric apparatus affixed. Notwith-
standing the brilliant conjectures of the last few years which
assign different acoustic end-organs to different rates of air-
wave, we are still greatly in the dark about the subject ; and
I, for my part, would much more confidently reject a theory
of hearing which violated the principles advanced in this
article than give up those principles for the sake of any
hypothesis hitherto published about either organs of corti or
basilar membrane.
There are but three possible kinds of theory concerning
space. Either (1) there is no spatial quale at all, and space
is a mere symbol of succession ; or ( 2 ) there is a quale given
immediately in sensation ; or, finally (3), there is a quale pro-
duced out of the inward resources of the mind, to envelop
sensations which, as given originally, are not spatial, but
which, on being cast into the spatial form, become united and
orderly. This last is the Kantian view. Stumpf admirably
designates it as the "psychic stimulus' theory, the crude
sensations being considered as goads to the mind to put forth
its slumbering power. Wundt, who calls space a synthesis
containing properties which its elements lack, explicitly adopts
the third view, and so does Lotze. Helmholtz is so senten-
tious (and vacillating?) that it is a little hard to class him dis-
tinctly, but there is no doubt that visual space, at any rate, is
constructed for him out of non-spatial sensations of sight.
The word " empiricist ' in his optics means just the opposite
of its ordinary signification. Mill, Bain, and Spencer seem all
to have gone astray, like lost sheep. Mill, with his mental
chemistry, would sometimes seem to hold the third view, but
sometimes again the first. Bain sticks most to the first, but
sometimes implies the third. These authors are bent on making
a triumphant use of their all-sufficing principle of association.
They wish, therefore, if possible, to account for space by it.
But, between the impossibility of getting from mere associa-
tion anything not contained in the sensations associated, and
the dislike to allow any spontaneous mental productivity, they
flounder in a dismal dilemma. Spencer joins them there.
86 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
He most explicitly denies the spatial quality to any of the ele-
mentary sensations. In his Psychology, volume 2, page 168,
he says : «< No idea of extension can arise from a simultane-
ous excitation " of a multitude of nerve terminations like those
on the skin or the retina, since this would imply a 6t knowledge
of their relative positions," — that is " a preexistent idea of a
special extension, which is absurd." On page 172- he says,
"No relation between successive states of consciousness gives
in itself any idea of succession ; ' and, on page 218, "the
muscular sensations accompanying motion are quite distinct
from the notions of space and time associated with them."
He nevertheless vociferously inveighs against the Kantian
position, that space is a spontaneous mental product. And
yet he does not anywhere explicitly deny space to have a spe-
cific quale different from that of time.
Such abject incoherency is really pitiful. The fact is, that
all these English authors are really psj'chieal stimulists, or
Kantists, at bottom. The space they speak of is a new mental
product not given in the sensations. I repudiate this position
because it appears to me thoroughly mythological. I have no
direct experience of any such mental act of creation or pro-
duction. My spatial intuitions do not occur in two times, but
in one. JVty mind is woven of one tissue, and not chopped
into joints. There is not a moment of passive non-spatial sen-
sation, succeeded by one of active spatial perception, but the
form I look at is as immediately felt as the color which tills it.
If one can be called a sensation, so can the other. That
higher parts of the mind are also involved in spatial percep-
tion, who can deny? They till it with intellectual relations,
as Mr. Cabot has well pointed out. But these relations, when
they obtain between elements of the spatial order, do in no
whit differ from the same intellectual relations when they join
elements in the orders of number, in tensity, quality, and the
like. The spatiality comes to the intellect, not from it.
One word more about Kant. Helmholtz says : i3 "By Kant
the proof that space is an a priori form is based essentially on
13 Mind, vol. iii, p. 213.
The Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. 87
the position that the axioms are synthetic propositions, a
priori; but even if this position be dropped, the space repre-
sentation might still be the necessary a priori form in which
every coextended manifold is perceived. This [i. e., dropping
the axioms] is not surrendering any essential feature of the
Kantian position."
I make bold to differ from this. The mere iimateness of the
spatial form of sensibility is surely not the essence of the
Kantian position. Every sensationalist empiricist must admit
a wealth of native forms of sensibility. The important ques-
tion is : Do they, or do they not, yield us a priori ptroposi-
tions, synthetic judgments? If our "sensation" space does
this, we are still Kantians in a deeper sense by far than if we
merely call the spatial quale a form of Anschauung, rather than
an E mpfinduug . But if the new geometry of Helmholtz and
others has upset the necessity of our axioms (and this appears
to be the ease; see, especially, the article just quoted), then
the Kantian doctrine seems literally left without a leg to
stand upon.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THOMAS AQUINAS.
(A LETTER ADDRESSED TO THOMAS DAVIDSON, AND TRANSLATED
BY HIM FOR THIS JOURNAL FROM THE ITALIAN.
[The author of the following letter, which I helieve I am at liberty to print, I
do not know. Last spring, when I was looking over, in Rome, the mediaeval com-
mentaries on Aristotle, and trying to discover their value for a true interpretation
of his text, it was suggested to me that I should do well to consult some of the
more famous Catholic doctors who made a special study of Thomas Aquinas and
his commentaries on Aristotle. An opportunity having presented itself to me to
do this, I seized it eagerly, and soon became satisfied that the much-maligned
scholastics had understood Aristotle at least as well as any one who came after
them, and, as a consequence, had a philosophy which, for thoroughness and pro-
fund^, left most succeeding systems far behind it. I became especially interested
in the doctrines of the greatest of medieval thinkers, Thomas Aquinas, and most
gladly accepted the offer of Father Domenico Marinangeli, of the cathedral at
Aquila, in the Abruzzi, to obtain for me a summary of that philosophy from a friend
of his who knew it thoroughly, and who was at work on an exposition of it, hereafter
to be given to the public. The following is this summary, which I have translated
from the Italian, in the hope, that it may help to interest Americans in the works
of the great Catholic thinker. Our Protestant prejudices, caused by the abuses of
88 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
Catholicism, have perhaps long enough blinded us to the great truths that lie
embedded in the doctrines of that system, and, with the aid of a shallow Baconi-
anism, cut us off from the historical development of thought in the world. "When
our thinking returns to the basis of Aristotle, as it inevitably must do, we shall
have much to learn from the schoolmen.
The italics in the letter are the author's ; the Greek quotations have been added
by me. — T. D.]
Dear Sir :
§ 1. Before presenting you with an epitome of the Thomistic
philosophy, allow me to recall to your attention a few truths
professed by all.
1. That the human mind adds nothing to, and takes nothing
away from, the nature of things when it unites with and cog-
nizes them.
2. That our mind, in the act of cognition, sets out from the
real, concrete essence («fW«), and not from the abstract or pos-
sible ( to t? a<paipiffsu>q rj ~u duvd/iet ) .
3. That the proper object of philosophy is the supreme
reasons of things (al rzpmrat. atrial or ret ££ <*>(>yy]q ahca).
4. That Catholic Ontologism consists in asserting: and main-
taming the supremacy of God in rational science.
5. That this supremacy consists in the placing of God as the
highest principle of philosophy and the objective law of our
specidative judgments, in such a manner that, even according
to the schools of the adversaries of Ontologism, His ineffable
and divine will is the supreme law and norm of our moral
actions.
Now, I say : 1 . That according to Saint Thomas, the powers
of the mind are in part active and in part passive, and that in
the process of cognition the latter precede the former (1 Sum.,
q. 77, art. 3).
2. That Being stands to the passive powers, ut principium
et causa movens ; to the active, ut terminus et finis (ib. id., art.
4). The object of this article is to show that the powers of the
mind are ordered.
3. That Being, principium et causa movens (86ev r t dp-pi rr^
xtvyaems) est ens actu, or real, according to the Thomistic axiom :
Nihil reducitur de potentia in actum nisi per aliquod ens actu.
(^As\ yap t/. too duvdp.ee ovjroe; yfyvsrat rd ivspyeia Sv Otto ivspyeia ovroq.
The Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. 89
Aristotle, Metaph. IX, 8.) I cite no passage, because Saint
Thomas repeats this everywhere.
4. That the intellect (voD?) is the primal power of the mind,
and the first of the passive powers (1 S., q. 82, art. 3) ; and
the will, the first of the active powers, being the moving cause
of all the forces of the mind. Hence this power is able to
make the intellect pass from the condition of potentiality to
the second acts, but cannot make airy thing pass to the first act,
which act is caused directly and immediately by God in our
intellect. (1. S., q. 82, art. 4, ad 3). This article, Utrum
voluntas moveat intellectum ? — translated by the famous Cardi-
nal de Vio into this other, Utrum voluntas deducat intellec-
tum de potentia in actum — replies to the question in the nega-
tive as regards the first act [-/xu-rj hreteyj'.a) , and then proceeds
to solve the following problem : Num. primus motus intellectus
reducatur in Deum et quomodo ? If you should see fit to read
the profound demonstration of Cardinal de Vio, who, in his
commentary on Saint Thomas, certainly was not prejudiced by
party spirit in favor of this or of that other system, there being
no such controversy in his day, you will see most plainly that
God is the efficient cause of our first intelligence, or first act,
as the Thomistic phrase is.
These theories bring him to the question, Does the human
mind always think or not? ( ore p.h wsi ozz o ob vozi. De An.
HI. 5. 2.) Let the following proposition serve as a reply
to the question : Utrum potentia? rationales sint semper in
actu respectu objectornm in quibus attenditur imago. (Lib. 1,
sent. dist. 3, q. 4, art. 3.)
In this thesis Saint Thomas distinguishes, with regard to our
intellect, the simple intelligere (w>;Fv) from discemere (alvOdvzo-Oac)
and cogitare ((havosiTOw.y Now, simple intelligere, " nihil
aliud dicit quam simplicem intuitum intellectus in id quod
sibi est praesens intelligibile." And intuition, " nihil aliud
est quam praesentia intelligibilis ad intellectum quocumqiie
modo ; " that is, as he explains, not implying any intentio
cognoscentis, Being presenting itself not as objectum cognitum,
clearly and distinctly, but as simple principium cognitionis et
objectum agens ad potentiam, and therefore known confusedly.
90 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
In this sensejhe mind semper intelligit — what? Se et Deum —
itself and God. This confused intelligence is initial and im-
perfect, as Saint Thomas himself admits in reply to the second
difficulty. ; His words are: Ad secundum ergo dicendum,
quod philosophus loquitur de intelligere, secundum quod est
operatio intellectus completa distinguentis vel cogitantis et non
secundum quod nic sumitur intelligere. (lb. id. ad 2.)
Now, why has it not consciousness, i. e., cognition, clear, dis-
tinct, perfect, complete?
Consciousness is reflected cognition ; therefore, it cannot take
place where there is not first cognition. But in the first act
there is no cognition. Inasmuch as in it there is only the
simple intuition (per simplicem intuitum), and since that is
merely the presence of the intelligible to the intellect (pre-
sentia intelligibilis ad intellectum), and not a determinate, but
an indeterminate, presence (quocumquemodoet indeterminate),
the intuition results in the simple intelligence which the mind has
permanently of itself and God (intelligit semper se etDeum),
and not in cognition, inasmuch as that belongs not to simple
intelligence, but to discernere and cogitare. Hence it is in vain
that we strive to become conscious of the first act in which
God is present to the mind, non tanquam objectum cognitum
sed tanquam principium cognitionis. Just so Ave do not feel
that we perceive the light, which is not a distinct object pre-
senting itself to our eyes, but is the objective principle of
vision which informs our eyes, makes them act, and enables
them to see. And here it is necessary to observe that man,
being of a nature composed of spirit and body, and nature
being the principium operationis, the action of man, even in
regard to spiritual objects, can never be entirely spiritual; but
eveiy operation of the intellect is accompanied by the opera-
tion of the body in the brain, and hence it is that every idea
is accompanied by an image, every intellectual concept by a
concept of the imagination. For this reason the conscious-
ness, which is the cognition by the mind of its own acts, cannot
take place with regard to that act which is entirely spiritual,
not caused by the human compound, but entirely divorced
from connection with the body, as is the first act of the intel-
The Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. 91
lect — that primordial act by which the intellect is formed or
stamped with the divine light, which is the Word-Cause-Reason
of things, animated or invested with the power to reflect the
action of that word in things — enabled to act. These facts
enable ns to understand that the expression " first act " has
not the same meaning that any act of a man has with reference
to the other acts that follow it. The first act, if it is first in
regard to time, is still more so in regard to order. Out of it
spring the second acts, which begin and end, i. e., pass, while it
presents, with respect to the second acts, neither beginning nor
end, but precedes them all, and includes them all ; in short,
does not pass, but endures. Now, there is no consciousness
of that which neither begins nor ends — of that which is forever
uniform and permanent. So we do not feel the act by which
the soul informs the bodv and makes it live, although the
psychologists admit and insist upon that act. Our great
Rosmini admitted a fundamental feeling as the substratum of
all sensations. The psychologists have bitterly combated the
doctrine of that philosopher, and so they pretend to have a
consciousness of the first act whereby the Word-Cause-Reason
of things originally informs the spirit.
Consciousness is reflected cognition, which has for its term
that which was the efficient principle in direct cognition. (1
S., q. 85, art. 2.) In consciousness we do not perceive again
the object already perceived in direct cognition, but we per-
ceive ourselves, our own act, our own direct cognition ; hence,
immediately we perceive the knowing subject, and mediately
in, the subject, already united by direct cognition to the
object, we again perceive the object itself. When, however,
we perceive it the second time, we perceive it just as we have
already perceived it in direct cognition. Now, how can any
one of us assume to have a consciousness of our first act, if it
is not our act, or an act having its origin in us, although pro-
duced by God in us, while we remain passive. We are not
the efficient principle of the first act, but God ; the formation
of our intellect is the term of that act. Adversaries might
reply that we have consciousness not only of our act, but also
of our passive slate, even when it is not we who act, but an-
92 TJie Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
other that acts on us, and we do nothing more than receive his
action. This is most true, but with one condition, viz. : that
we react upon that which acts upon us, and receive its action
in this way. Without such reaction on our part, we receive
nothing;; he who receives, acts in receiving;; he acts against
another act — that is, reacts. How many objects in the course
of a walk impress themselves upon our senses, without our
having any recollection of them? And we have no recollec-
tion of them because we have had no consciousness of them,
and we have had no consciousness of them because we did not
react when they impressed themselves, in order to receive and
feel them. Now, there can be no reaction to receive the first
operation of our intellect, because there can be no reaction by
the intellect which is not formed, but is being formed in that
act.
The truth is, the passivity of the first act is the creation of
activity; the intellect is formed and set in action — put to its
first act — which is causal of all other acts. And such a first
act of the intellect is that intuition of which Saint Thomas
speaks, and that intelligere pure and simple, w T hich is not yet
discernere or cogitare. For this reason, if the intellect is es-
sentially self-compenetrative and endowed with consciousness,
even its first intelligere must be accompanied with its proper
consciousness. Nevertheless, consciousness of the first intelli-
gere must, in every respect, correspond to that act, and hence
must be (1) inborn in the intellect, and not produced by the
intellect after the manner of its other conscious acts ; (2) not
distinct, or gathered up and laid aside in the memory, like all
the other acts of consciousness, but diffused without beg'inning;
and without end, equally and permanently underlying as a
principle, and dominating as a criterion all the other acts of
the intellect ; ( 3 ) confused and vague in itself, as well as in
respect to the object apprehended (intuited, angeschaui) in the
first act, according to the theory above expressed; (4) con-
sciousness, not of any apprehension of an object, but of de-
rivation from the formal object of our spiritual faculties and
of distinction in it. Now, that there is such a consciousness
in man is proved by his original and fundamental feeling of
The Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. 93
the true, the good, and the beautiful. This feeling is called
common sense in respect to the true, moral sense with respect to
the good, simply and absolutely, and cesthetic sense with respect
to the. beautiful. What, after all, is this feeling but the con-
sciousness of that first act, whereby we are stamped by God
with His word and image and drawn to Him ?
Yes, drawn to Him ; and the accomplishment of this draw-
ing is all our destiny. This is the final reply ; this is the high-
est outcome of the system. Do you strive after a conscious-
ness of intuition? Well, the whole development, the whole
round of second acts is simply the consciousness of intuition.
The feelino; of the true, the good, and the beautiful is the first
moment in this consciousness. The celebrated Gioberti, prince
of modern Italian philosophers, in explaining his ontologism,
his distino-nished two states of the intellect, that of intuition
and that of reflection, which is simply the consciousness of
intuition. Reflection reconstructs what is given in intuition,
and reconstructs it distinct, making use of created terms, and
so appropriates it, and finally apprehends as the term of its
own cognition (the objectum cognitum of Saint Thomas) what
in intuition was merely its principium et causa movens. If
consciousness is the reflex act which repeats in inverse order
all the process of the direct act, which sets out from God, it
must retrace the whole line which separates the intellect from
God, and retrace it in the same manner in which the intellect
has descended from Him. But what is this mode save that in
which the ray sets out and proceeds from the sun — in other
words, the mode of the emanation of light? Now, the spir-
itual light is the reason. Hence the true and perfect con-
sciousness of intuition is attained only by reasoning. Reason
is the word of God, is the divine form (ad imaginem et simili-
tudinem nostram), stamped with which the intellect becomes,
subsists, and acts a true ray of God upon the universe. Yes,
the reasoning which deals with the existence and attributes of
God is the consciousness of intuition; and, indeed, without
this basis and the lever of intuition, how could the finite intel-
lect rise to the infinite — to God? There is a quid divinum
(deUv r>.) in the intellect which draws it upward, lifts it to the
94 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
metaphysical order, to the transcendental order of causes and
principles, and gives a real value to its speculations. The in-
tellect must, through reflection, reascend the whole line bv
which it has descended in intuition. It must do this setting
out from the opposite extremity — that is, from the creature —
and this is the proof of God for the creature, according to the
teaching of the Book of Wisdom, of Saint Paul, of Saint
Thomas, and of all the doctors of the Church. The path from
the creature to God, by which consciousness must reascend,
is the metaphysical order of causes and principles by which it
rises from the physical order of created things to the absolute
order of the First Cause and the Final Reason, which is God.
§ 2. The existence of this first, continuous, and perpetual
intelligence with which our minds are furnished from the first
moment of their creation is always presupposed by the An-
gelic Doctor in the development, of the active powers, quae e
converso se habent — that is, which ascend from the created to
the creator — whereas the passive powers descend from the cre-
ator to the created, and are the guides of the former. In fact,
I open the first Summa and read : " Utrum Deum esse sit de-
monstrabile? ' In this article he establishes the following
proposition : " Deum esse, quamvis non a priori, a posteriori
tamen demonstrari potest, ex aliquo ejus notiori nobis effeetu."
Having accomplished this demonstration, he concludes : "Unde
Deum esse, secundum quod non est per se nolum quoad nos, de-
monstrable est per etfectus nobis notos " (1 S., q. 2, art. 2).
What, then, is the nature of that knowledge of God whereby
He is known to us in Himself, and which is not derivable from
created things? To me, it is the simple intelligere per sim-
plicem Intuitum quocumque modo et indeterminate vel sub qua-
dam confusione, as he teaches elsewhere. This is the real
presence of God which the mind always enjoys in respect to
Him, who is principium et causa movens, and who can be such
only in His essence (sussistenza) , and not in his image or sim-
ilitude or reflection (vestigio), as the psychological school
holds. Hence it is clear that when Saint Thomas teaches that
God is not the first object known quoad nos (ro ^wkw yfiiv), he
speaks with reference to cogitare and discernere, and not of intel-
The Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. 95
ligere — that is, with reference to the active powers, to which be-
longs determinate and distinct cognition, and not to the passive
powers, which have only initial and indeterminate cognition.
Here there is no middle alternative. Either the knowledge of
God per simplicem Intuitum precedes the determinate and dis-
tinct knowledge which belongs to cogitare and discernere , and
which is derivable from created things, and then causa dicta
est, or it does not; and then there is no meaning (1) in the
words secundum quod non est per se notum quoad nos; (2)
in the words notiori nobis effectu, and hence in the whole
thesis of the Angelic Doctor, written in comparative language,
which, according even to the grammarians, supposes and abso-
lutely implies the positive. But there is more than this.
Since Saint Thomas teaches that this intelligere per si?nplicem
intuitum is attended with a certain indeterminate love toward
God, * * * consequitur quidam amor indeterminatus
(Loc. cit. lib. Sent.) ; this love ought, according to the Thom-
istic exposition of the psychological school, to relate itself,
not to God, but to that which is in some manner the image,
the similitude, or the reflection of Him, which appears in His
works. According to such an hypothesis, who does not see
that the primacy of divine love would be canceled from the
human heart and mind. Hence it is clearly manifest that
the school which excludes the efficacy of the supreme
cause in respect to the first act of our intelligence is the very
source of modem incredulity . In fact, if we assume that
God is not the objective and ontological law of our intellect,
it is impossible to demonstrate without self-contradiction that
He is the immediate, immutable, and invariable rule of our
wills.
The same perpetual intelligence is presupposed by the An-
gelic Doctor in his Summa contra Gentiles, cpp. 12, 13, and
14, in which he demonstrates that God " non est maxiine intel-
ligibilis quoad nos." Now, who does not know that between
the superlative and nothing there is a middle way? This is
the confused and indistinct cognition in relation to which our
mind " quodammodo est in actu, et quodammodo in potentia '
96 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
(1 S., q. 83, art. 3). He arrives at the same truth in the
proposition demonstrating that the soul is a substance subsist-
ing per se. His words are : " Anima humana, cum sit om-
nium corporum cognoscitiva, est incorporea et subsistens."
He proves this thesis by two different arguments, the former
of which he derives from the nature of the bodily organ,
which, being determined ad unum, cannot know more than
one thins: in the manner in which our mind knows. The latter,
derived from the nature of the action of the mind itself, he
expresses thus : " Ipsum igitur intcllectuale principium, quod
dicitur mens, vel intellectus, hahet operationem per se cut non
communicat corpus." What, then, is the intellective opera-
tion which the mind possesses independently of the body? 1
find nothing but intelligere, having no sensible sign repre-
senting it in the knowable. But what is the object peculiar
to this intellectual faculty which transcends the sensible? The
Angelic Doctor answers even this question in the third article
of the same question ; for brevity's sake 1 transcribe merely
the proposition : Cum de ratione anima? prout in communi
consideratur, sit esse formam corporis prout vero in speciali,
in quantum scilicet est intellectiva, esse cognoscitivam forma-
rum absohitarum sive universalium : dici debet animam non
esse compositam ex materia et forma (1 S., q. 75, art. 5).
So the mind can act by itself, without the concurrence of the
body.
Again 1 open Saint Thomas, and find the following thesis :
" Cum principium intellectivum sit quo primo intelligit homo,
sive vocetur intellectus sive anima intellectiva, necesse est ipsum
uniri corpori humano ut formam " (1 S., q. 76, art. 1). Let
any one who has eyes read the demonstration of this article,
and then tell me whether our soul can cognize nothing in its
present state without that body to which, according to Saint
Thomas, the soul gives life. " Manifest um est autem quod
primum quo corpus vivit est anima, * * similiter prin-
cipium quo primo intelligimus." He teaches and maintains
the same truth when he denominates our mind higher reason,
because through itself it intendit " seternis conspiciendis aut
The Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. 97
consulendis ; conspiciendis quidem secundum quod ea in se ip-
sis speculatur, consulendis vero, secundum quod ex lis accepit
regulas agendorum " (1 S., q. 79, art. 9).
In short, the object of the higher reason is the supreme
reasons of things ; the object of the lower reason, the things
themselves. The former are absolute and universal, the latter
contingent and particular. Now, which of the two reasons
ought to be the guide of the other — the higher of the lower, or
vice versa? Let Saint Thomas decide : " Ad primum dicen-
dum quod ratio inferior dicitur a superiori deduci, vel ab ea
regulari, in quantum principia quibus utitur inferior ratio de-
ducuntur et diriguntur a principiis superioris rationis " (Id.
id. id., ad. 1 ). Who does not see that, according to the psycho-
logical theory, the principles of the lower reason, which has
for its exclusive object the contingent, ought to direct and
guide the principles of the higher reason, whose proper object
is the eternal reasons of things, considered as efficient causes
of the things themselves? But, according to Saint Thomas,
how are such forms in themselves? To the angel of the schools
they are :
1. Absolute and universal, according to the proposition
above alluded to.
2. Immutable and always identical, semper uuum, with them-
selves, in spite of the plurality of the cognizing intellects. He
says : " Ad quartum dicendum quod, sive intellectus sit units
sive plures, id quod intelligitur est unum. Id enim quod in-
telligitur non est in intellectu secundum se sed secundum suam
similitudinem ; lapis enim non est in anima sed species lapidis,
fob ydp 6 Xidoq iv rf t ^tr/^ akka rd eldoq. De An. III., 8, 2 ) et tamen
lapis est id quod intelligitur non autem species lapidis, nisi
per reflexionem intellectus supra se ipsum, alio quin scientise
non essent de rebus sed de speciebus intelligibilibus " (1 S., q.
76, art. 2, ad 4).
3. Objective, whether because they can specular! in seipsis
by the human mind as higher reason, or because they are in
God, as first cause. Let us hear what he says of him : "Ad
primum ergo dicendum quod species intelligibiles qu as parti o
ipat nosier intellectus reducuntur, sicut in primam causam, in
XIII— 7
98 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
aliquocl principium per suam essentiani intelligibile, scilicet in
Deum. Sed ab illo principio procedunt mediantibus formis
rerum sensibilium et materialium a quibus scientiani collegi-
mus, ut Dionysius elicit." Cap. 7, De divin. nom. lect. 2. (1
S., q. 84, art. 4, ad. 1). And here I must inform you that this
testimony is the essence of Catholic Ontologism, inasmuch as
alone it contains and expresses the integral elements of science,
such as God and the world, creator and creature. And what
else is the formula, " Being creates the existent," but the lit-
eral translation of this text? And yet, who would believe it?
The opponents of our doctrine use this thesis as their chief
weapon in their attacks upon Ontologism ! They shout to the
four winds of heaven : " Read the reply to the third difficulty ;
open your eyes once and forever to the truth ; learn the true
Thomistic system contained in it." This reply reads : " Quod
intellectus noster possibilis reducitur de potentia in actum per
aliquod ens actu, id est per intellectum agentem, qui est virtus
queedam animse nostrse, ut dictum est (q. 79, art. 3) ; non autem
per intellectum separatum sicut per causam propriam proxi-
mam, sed forte sicut per causam remotam (ib. id., ad 3). It is
plain, they conclude, that the cause of the first act of our in-
tellect is that virtue of our soul called by Saint Thomas the ac-
tive intellect ( vouq -o'.r^uoz), and that the separate (x M (' lfTT "s)>
active intellect enters in, perhaps, ut causa remota, but never
ut proxima, as the Ontologists aver.
I reply that this observation is meaningless, because it is
made by our opponents to apply to the order of passive powers,
whereas in this thesis Saint Thomas speaks exclusively of the
active powers, whose proper object is the contingent. He
speaks in the sense of the first reply, in which he had said :
" Sed ab illo principio procedunt mediantibus formis rerum
sensibilium et materialium a quibus scicntiam colligimus."
Hence, I say that if the active, separate, i. e., ontological in-
tellect, which, as we shall see, is God, were the proximate and
proper cause of the secondary acts of our possible intellect,
and not the active human intellect, man would no longer be
an active and/Vee being, but a reed shaken by everv wind in
the hands of God — a horrible doctrine, which Saint Thomas
The Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. 99
avoids by saying that the active, separate intellect aids the
mind in its reflective period as a causa remota. This doctrine
will be made clearer in what follows.
4. Evident in themselves, and therefore principium cog-
niiionis. Saint Thomas says: " In rationibns seternis anima
non cognoscit omnia objective in prsssenti statu, sed cansaliter
(1 S., q. 84, art. 5). This proposition is the basis, the foun-
dation, the pivot of all the Thomistic philosophy. This con-
sists of two parts. In the first, he overthrows the doctrine of
Plato, and shows the absolute impotence ot the human mind
to acquire a knowledge of things directly and intuitively in
their eternal reasons alone. In the second, he shows that the
eternal reasons, considered as efficient causes of the things
themselves, are the first and highest principle of Christian
philosophy. Have the goodness to read the demonstration,
and you will be convinced of the correctness of my exposition.
In fact one needs but to cite the foundation of the thesis to be
entirely convinced of it. This foundation is the following pass-
age from Saint Augustine: "Si ambo videmus verum esse
quod dicis et ambo videmus verum esse quod dico ; ubi qureso
id videmus? Nee ego utique in te, nee tu in me, sed ambo in
ipsa quae supra mentes nostras est, incommutabili veritate."
"Veritas autem incommutabilis," notes the Angelic Doctor,
" in seternis rebus continetur. Ergo anima intellectiva omnia
vera cosnioscit in rationibus eeternis." Now, who would say
that the immutable truth which identifies the different thoughts
of two men is the active intellect, "qui est aliquid aniinse
nostras," as the defenders of psychologism add? Who does
not see that it is in opposition to the basis of this system, viz. :
" invisibilia Dei per ea quae facta sunt conspiciuntnr," that
Saint Thomas establishes the above proposition? Who does
not see that the above proposition is true only of the present
life, as is stated in the words " in proesenti statu," and not of
the future 'life >,, as is continually asserted and vociferated by
the Civilta Cattolica and its satellites, who say that the vision
of the eternal reasons of things is shared only by the blessed,
and by pure and holy souls, according to the conclusion, and
is not the universal ontological light of the human race !
100 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
That, in the view of Saint Thomas, God the creator is the
rational element in science, its immutable principles, the su-
preme harmony of human thought, and the ontological light
of the human mind, is further manifest from the following
proposition : " Species intelligibilis se habet ad intellectual ut
id quo intelligit intellectus : non autem ut id quod intelligitur,
nisi secundario ; res enim cujus species intelligibilis est simili-
tudo est id quod primo intelligitur' (1 S., q. 85, art. 2).
From this proposition it is clear that our minds require a
similitude (eT<J«?) distinct from the intellect and from the thing
known, in order to cognize anything!
But you will say, If the said intelligible species is not id
quod intelligitur, but merely id quo intelligitur, how is it that
the mind docs not warn us of this in the tirst act of cognition?
And what? Must things he admitted which the spirit does
not know? 1 reply, with the Doctor Saint, and say that,
although to the direct and confused cognition, called by ontol-
ogists cognition of the intuitive order, nothing else is given us
but the object, nevertheless, in the reflective cognition, the
idea, or similitude, id quo intelligitur, is given secundario.
Indeed, the real and concrete thing is always that which the
mind perceives and receives in preference, primo. Here are
his words : "Intellectus supra seipsum refiectitur, secundum
eandem reflexionem intelligit et suum intelligere et speciem
qua intelligit. Et sic species intellectiva secundario est id
quod intelligitur; sed id quod intelligitur primo est res cujus
species intelligibilis est similitudo " (1 S., q. 83, art. 2).
This doctrine is elsewhere established by the Doctor Saint
(De An., Bk. Ill, § 8). The above truth is still further con-
firmed by this other proposition : " Magis universalia et coni-
munia sunt priora in nostra intellecluali et sensitiva cognitione."
Now, I ask what are the universals, but the eternal, reasons
which, according to Saint Thomas, must inform our intellectual
and sensitive cognition? In this same thesis is included a
golden doctrine, which explains in a marvelous way the nature
of the passive and active powers. It says : " Secundo oportet
considerare quod intellectus noster de potentia in actum pro-
cedit. Omne autem quod procedit de potentia in actum,
The Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. 101
prius pervenit at actum incompletum qui est medius inter poten-
tium et actum, quam ad actum perfectum. Actus autem per-
fectus ad quem pervenit intellectus est scientia completa, per
quam distincte et determinate res cognoscuntur , actus autem
incompletus est scientia incompleta, per quam sciuntur res
indistincte sub quadam confusione. Quod enim sic cognosci-
tur, secundum quid cognoscitur in actu et quodam modo in
potentia ; nnde Philosophus (licit quod, sunt prima nobis mani-
festa et cert a confusa magis, poster ius autem cognoscimus
distinguendo principia et elementa'" (ln-i <T i,tw/ -pmzw 87 t ka /.a}
trapi} to. (TUYzeyuij.iva /jlolXXov uazepvv o i/. toutcov yi^ezai Y'stupip.a to. azor/zla
xai al dp'/ai dtatpinxri raLra). PllVS. I, 1. Cf. De An. 11, 2, 1. (1
S., q. 85, art. 3.)
This, then, is the manner in which Saint Thomas in several
places explains, exprofesso, the nature of the intelligible species,
similitudes, absolute forms, and eternal reasons of things which
constitute the rational, constant, and immutable element in
science — the element which is semper unum et secundum omne
tempus. Now, can such forms be called abstract, subjective,
and logical, as Saint Thomas calls the cognitions of sensible
things? Are they identical, i. e., unum et idem, with those
universal, immaterial, and necessary cognitions of which he
speaks in the following proposition : " Anima per intellectum
cognoscit corpora, immateriali, universale, et necessania cogni-
tione? (1 S., q. 84, art. 1.) I answer, No. In fact, the first
are absolute, universal, immaterial, objective, and evident per se ;
the second, on the contrary, arc abstract, subjective, nndlogical,
i.e., existing solely in the cognitive mind. As such, they
cannot be called semper unum, since they vary according to
the plurality and different capacities of the cognizing intellects ;
or objective, since they cannot be contemplated (speculari,
dewpsTadai) in se ipsis, like the first; or self-evident, since man,
according to Saint Thomas, cannot understand, or cognize, or
know these second, nisi convertendo se ad phantasmata. Id
ibid. (Si o ono^-ore voel aveu yavTcur/xdrtov / </'u/r r Aristotle, De
An. Ill, 7, 3.) But you will say, Why did not Saint
Thomas distinguish these two sorts of forms? I reply that he
did distinguish them, in the passage where he speaks, ex
102 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
professo, of the hitter, viz., in prop. 84, art. 1. In that
article, in fact, to those who, with Saint Augustine, object,
quod corpora intellectu intelligi non possunt ; nee aliquid
corporuin nisi sensibus videri potest," he replies: "Ad
primum ergo dicendum, quod verbum Augustini est intel-
ligendum quantum ad ea quae intellectus cognoscit (the ab-
stract, universal cognitions of which he had spoken), cognoscit
e in m corpora intellegendo, sed non per corpora neque per sim-
ilitudines materiales et corporeas, sed per species immaleriales
et intelligibiles, qum per suam essentiam in anima esseJ)ossunt. , '
Evidently the Sainted Doctor here distinguishes the intelligible
species, quibus intellectus cognoscit, from the subjective and
abstract species, i. e., the universal cognitions, * * * qum
cognoscit. In fact, if the universal, necessary, and subjective
cognitions (subjective, because existing only in the human in-
tellect) Avere identical with the objective intelligible species,
quibus intellectus cognoscit, the reply of Saint Thomas would
be meaningless, inasmuch as it would concede to the adversary
that, in truth, corpora intellectu comprehendi non possunt.
Hence the universal, abstract, and necessary cognitions of
which Saint Thomas speaks in question 84, article 1, could
never be such unless they were recognized as faithful copies of
the eternal species (forms) and reasons of things, quibus intel-
lectus cognoscit. To Saint Thomas, therefore, these absolute,
universal forms, similitudes, intelligible species, eternal reasons,
and efficient causes of things are the only fount of the eternal
and necessary element in science, and, as such, are objective
and exist outside of the human spirit. This theory is ren-
dered evident by this other proposition of Saint Thomas, viz. :
" Quod intellectus divinus est mensura rerum ; intellec-
tus humanus est quodammodo mensuratus a rebus (q. 1, de
veritat., art. 2).
Now I ask, by what things is the human intellect meas-
ured? Is it by the materiality of things? No, because
the less is not the measure of the greater. Who does
not know that the human intellect is the noblest and greatest
essence of created things — that it is their lord and master?
It cannot, therefore, be measured by them. Shall it be meas-
The Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. 103
ured by the universal, necessary, abstract, and logical spe-
cies, which are the cognitions derived by the mind from
sensible things (according to Saint Thomas)? This, like-
wise, is impossible ; for these stand related to the in-
tellect as the contained to that which contains, as the effect to
the cause, as the measured to that which measures, and hence
it cannot be comprehended by them. What then are the
thinsrs which measure it? Thev are none other than the su-
preme reasons, considered as efficient causes, which, accord-
ing to the opposite school, are found in things obscure and in-
volved, and which must be made clear and unfolded by being
placed in full light by ontological reflection. Hence it is clear
that our intellect in some sense and in a certain respect is
measured by things, quodammodo, but not totally. But
wherein consists this particular sense and respect in which our
intellect is measured? Let us listen to the Angelic Doctor
himself: " Ad primum ergo dicendum, quod aniina non se-
cundum quamcunque veritatem judicat de rebus omnibus, sed
secundum veritatem primam, in quantum resultat in ea, sicut
in speculo, secundum prima intelligibilia. Unde sequitur
quod Veritas prima sit major anima; et tamen etiam verilas
creata, quae est in intellectu nostro, est major anima, non sim-
pliciter sed secundum quid, in quantum (this is the particular
respect) est perfectio ejus sicut etiam scientia posset dici ma-
jor anima. Sed verum est quod nihil subsistens est majus
mente rationali nisi Deus " (1 S., q. 16, art. 6, ad 1). God,
then, is the Being greater than the human mind, and He alone
is the measure of it, and of whatever truth exists in it. " Cum
ergo Deus sit primus intellectus et primum intelligibile, opor-
tet quod Veritas intellectus cujuslibet ejus veritate men-
suretur (Contra Gentes, Lib. 1, cp. 62). This doctrine
is opposed by its adversaries with a distinction, not de-
rived from Saint Thomas, but from their own brains. They
say that the knowledge of things may be absolute or relative,
and that the latter requires the absolute idea in order to be ap-
prehended, whereas the other, since it may exist very well by
itself, does not.
1 reply : True cognition of a thing is that which perfectly
104 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
expresses its nature, i. e., without adding anything to it or
taking anything a/ray from it. Now, which of the two kinds of
cognition is conformable to the nature of created things — the
relative or the absolute? Surely that which expresses, and is
conformable to, the nature of created and contingent things.
But relative cognition is the only one that is conformable to
created and relative things, and hence this is the only scientific
cognition of them. For this reason the pretended absolute
cognition of them is not scientific, and cannot be invoked as
such by the opposite school in defense of their interpretation
of Thomism. Indeed, how can there be any absolute knowl-
edge of the relative? The relative is only the relative, the
finite the finite, etc., etc. Hence, from created things there
can be derived no absolute knowledge ; for, since cognition
must be an effect of the truth, and truth an effect of being, as
Saint Thomas teaches, " Sic ergo entitas rei precedit rationem
veritatis ; sed cognitio est qui dam veritatis effectus " (DeVer-
itat., q. 1, art. 1), if an absolute cognition could be derived
from relative things, there would be an effect greater than its
cause. But that is self-contradictory ; hence, also, it is self-
contradictory to say that relative things can give absolute cogni-
tion. Therefore, the above distinction made by the psycho-
logical school in regard to created things is either altogether
meaningless or expresses an absurdity. And so, I beg that
school not to confound the power which we have of consider-
ing abstractly any property of a thing already known (i. e.,
by abstracting or prescinding from all the other properties)
with the scientific cognition of the thing itself, which can never
be true, certain, and universal until it is completely equal to
the thing itself. Indeed, it is true, as Saint Thomas says, that
our minds can examine, abstractly, the color of an apple,
without thinking of the apple in which it inheres ; but just as,
according to the axiom, there is no accident without substance,
ontological existence of the color is impossible without the ap-
ple, so, likewise, it is impossible to acquire the perfect knoiol-
edge of it without its reality, or without the common idea of
being, as Saint Thomas expresses himself. This doctrine,
therefore, proves that, just as the existence of things created is
The Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas. 105
impossible without the creator, so it is impossible to know
them as absolute or independent of Him. In proof of which
I say that the knowledge of the thinking subject, of liberty, of
immortality, called by the said school absolute knowledge, is
not so, but merely relative, inasmuch as it includes the idea of
cause. Indeed, the thinking subject is a potentiality which
must pass into act, either first or second; but nihil reducitur de
potentia in actum nisi per aliquod ens actu, according to Saint
Thomas ; hence the thinking subject, considered in itself, as it
occurs in children, or in potentiality, necessarily includes the
idea of cause. This necessary relation appears more mani-
festly whenever the thinking subject is confronted with the ob-
ject thought. In truth, the human intellect, according to Saint
Thomas, is passive and receptive in the act of cognition, and
Being acts upon it ( 1 S., q. 79, art. 2).
Now, are not the efficacy and action of Being in relation to
our intellect an effect? And is not Being, which produces this
action, a cause? And is not immortality known in an act of in-
telligence? If so, does this school believe that the creature
ceases to be a second cause, and that it no longer receives the
influence of the first cause? Or does it believe that the latter
will not be causa et motor universalis even in the other life?
And are not reward and punishment an effect with reference to
the soul? And is not God, the re warder of the good and the
punisher of the wicked, a cause? Hence the knowledge of the
thinking subject, of freedom, and of immortality, however re-
garded, whether in itself or in relation to the temporal or eter-
nal object, includes the idea of cause and hence is relative,
not absolute, as is given out by the disciples of the psycholog-
ical school, with an air of contempt and haughty triumph.
From the above considerations it is clear that the Ano-el of the
Schools established the following proposition : " Intellectiva
cognitio fit a sensibili non sicut a perfecta et totali causa, sed
potius sicut a materia causae " (1 S., q. 84, art. 6).
If, in the view of Saint Thomas, the sensible is not the per-
fect and total cause of science, it is evident that the other
portion must come from the above treated eternal reasons, or
106 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
else from our own intellectual power itself, called by Saint
Thomas the active intellect. But the active intellect, " non se
habet ut objectum agens ad potentiam," i. e., to the possible
intellect (1 S., q. 79, art. 4, ad. 3) ; hence the active human
intellect cannot be the complementary efficient cause of science.
In order to be so, it would have to possess in itself the rea-
sons of things ; but these, as Saint Thomas teaches, it does not
possess. "Ad nonum dicendum quod intellectus agens non
sufficit per se ad reducendum intellectum possibilem perfecte
in actum, cum non sint in eo determinate notiones om-
nium rerum, ut dictum est. Et ideo reqtiiritur ad ultimam
perfectionem intellectus possibilis quod uniatur aliqualiter illi
agenti in quo sunt rationes omnium rerum, scilicet Deo " (1
S., q. de anima, art. 3, ad 9); hence the active intellect,
" qui est aliquid animse nostra," cannot furnish that part of
science which does not come from sensible things. But, if this
is the case, why has Saint Thomas not left us a formal proof
of the fact that it was to the eternal reasons that he attributed
the perfect, complete, and scientific knowledge of everything?
I reply that Saint Thomvs has given us a most luminous proof
of what the scientific knowledge of this same mind of ours is.
He says: " Sed verum est quod judicium et efficacia hujus
cognitionis, per quam naturam animce cognoscimus competit
nobis secundum derivationemluminis intellectus nostri a veritate
divina in qua rationes omnium rerum continentur, sicut supra
dictum est (qusest. 84, art. 5). Unde Augustinus dicit {De
Veritat. in g. cp. 6, paulo ab init. ) : ' Intuemur inviolabilem
veritatem, ex qua perfecte quantum possumus definimus, non
qualis sit uniuscuj usque hominis mens, sed qualis esse sempiter-
nis rationibus debeat.' Est autem differentia inter has duas
cognitiones. Nam ad primam cognitionem de mente habendam
sufficit ipsa mentis praisentia, quos est principium actus ex quo
mens percipit seipsum : et ideo dicitur se cognoscere per mam
prodsenliam. Sed ad secundum cognitionem de mente haben-
dam non sufficit ejus praisentia, sed requiritur diligens et subtilis
inquisitio " (1 S., q. 77, art. 1).
From this authority it is as clear as the sun that the Angelic
Algorithmic Division in Logic. 107
Doctor derives the scientific knowledge of the human soul —
i. e., in universali — from the eternal reasons, as the efficient
causes of things, as he had taught in queest. 84, art. 3.
I offer you this brief resume of the Thomistic philosophy,
in the hope that it may serve you as a guide in the study of
Saint Thomas.
ALGORITHMIC DIVISION IN LOGIC.
BY GEORGE BRUCE HALSTED.
From its very start, logic has been suffering from the mis-
taken idea that it was actually an account of all the funda-
mental principles of legitimate inference, of all valid use of the
reasoning faculty.
From the shackles of this self-imposed, but never fulfilled
requirement it has not yet quite freed itself, and the contusing
effects are visible alike in Ueberweg and Jevons. But once
recognized that logic is not a branch of psychology, is conver-
sant with classes of things, and that point is passed where it
could be believed that mathematics was only a developed branch
of ordinary logic, or supposed that the more powerful mathe-
matics was trying to show that logic was only a branch of
algebra.
In actual reasoning, the mind, far from being confined to
the scholastic logic, jumps, climbs, and runs along in accord-
ance with all sorts of principles, various, though valid.
These results, however, may be stated in terms of ordinary
logic — that is, in terms of genus and species — of the relations
of classes ; and from the generality, simplicity, and certainty
of this formal logic, it is, even from the new point of view, as
worthy as it was ever thought to be of all study ; more espe-
cially since those who, recognizing the fundamental character
of other relations beside that of the simple copula, have worked
on the " Logic of Relatives," have not been able as yet, in
spite of the fine contributions made by De Morgan, to bring
anv cosmos out of that chaos.
108 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
But the hitter's two statements, "first, logic is the only
science which has made no progress since the revival of letters ;
secondly, logic is the only science which has produced no
growth of symbols," were neither true after Boole had put to
the science his master hand.
A notation analogous to that used in the coordinate, but
more highly developed, science of quantity was found to give
to the old and new ideas astonishing vigor. Boole summarizes
his result by saying : " Let us conceive, then, of an algebra in
which the symbols x, y, z, etc., admit indifferently of the values
and 1, and of these values alone. The laws, the axioms,
and the processes of such an algebra will be identical in their
whole extent with the laws, the axioms, and the processes of
an algebra of logic." But this statement must be interpreted
very narrowly to be at all exact.
That the slightest extension of the analogy to cause or reason
must lead us all wrong is evident from the fact that this alge-
bra admits of only two phases, and 1, while logic admits of
three phases, namely, not only none and all, corresponding to
and 1, but also some, " which, though it may include in its
meaning all, does not include none' (Boole, p. 124), and
hence has no analogue in such an algebra. Again, this algebra
may, perhaps, be called unduly arithmetical.
From the idea of the convertibility and transitiveness of
the relation expressed by the ordinary copula, or from the
equal balance of subject and predicate throughout the formal
logic of absolute terms, one would look for an exact corre-
spondence of theorems, subject and predicate being transposed.
Now, of the Boolian product we know, besides the peculiar
law xx=x 2 =x, that also xy is either identical with, or less than,
either of the factors. This we may write xy = or < x, and
xy =: or <y ; and if z = or < x and z — or <y, then z — or
<xy.
From the principle of correspondence there would thus be
another function, F (xy), such that x = or < F (xy), and
y = or < F (xy), and if x = or < z, and y = or < z, then F
(xy) =or<z.
This function is logical addition, which we may distinguish
Algorithmic Division in Logic. 109
from Boole's b}^ a subscript comma (-|-, ). It must be by a slip
that Prof. Jevous, in the preface to the second edition of his
Principles of Science, calls it Boole's.
He says (p. xvii) of Leibnitz : " He first gives as an axiom
the now well known law of Boole, as follows :
" ' Axioma I. Si idem secum ipso sumatur, nihil constituitur
novum, seu A-f-, A=A.' Now, no one knows better than
Prof. Jevons that the way in which Boole entirely avoids
this sort of addition, with its accompanying " Law of Unity,"
is one of the marked peculiarities of his S}^stem.
However much this kind of addition seems called for by
logical simplicity, by the principle of correspondence, by the
balance of multiplication and addition, yet, besides not agree-
ing with Boole's arithmetical analogy, it has the grave defect
of not being an invertible operation.
Says Boole, page 33 : " But the very idea of an operation
effecting some positive change seems to suggest to us the idea
of an opposite or negative operation, having the effect of un-
doing what the former one has done. Thus, we cannot con-
ceive it possible to collect parts into a whole, and not conceive
it also possible to separate a part from a whole." It is very
true that in treating certain subjects — as, for example mathe-
matics — great advantage arises from the fact that you are able
to use invertible addition and multiplication, your subtraction
and division being determinative.
But in this case, though if b -f-, x = a, then x = a — b, yet
is x not completely determinate. It may vary from a to a
with b taken away. The noting of this peculiar fact led Prof.
Jevons, in 1864, in his " Pure Logic," to say, page 80 : " But
addition and subtraction do not exist, and do not give true re-
sults, in a system of pure logic, free from the condition of
number. For instance, take the logical proposition A -(-, B+,
C = A -f-, D -\-, E meaning what is either A or B -or C is
either A or D or E, and vice versa. In these circumstances,
the action of subtraction does not apply. It is not necessarily
true that, if from same (equal) things we take same (equal )
things the remainders are same (equal). It is not allowable for
us to subtract the same thing (A ) from both sides of the above
110 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
proposition, and thence infer B -J-, C = D -(-, E. This is not
true if, for instance, each of B and C is the same as E, and
D is the same as A, which has been taken away."
This last sentence is very true, but it does not prove his state-
ment, much less does it warrant his saving, as he does, on the
next page, " The axioms of addition and subtraction," etc.,
for you may always logically add as many terms as you choose
to both sides with perfect safety. He has also failed to notice
that by parity of reasoning he must sweep away logical divis-
ion, which corresponds to Abstraction, but which he calls
" Separation," devoting to it chapter V. For, denoting log-
ical division by ( ;), if bx = a, then x = a ; b. But it will
be observed that x is not fully determined by this condition.
It will vary from a to a-\- b, and will be uninterpretable if a
is not wholly contained under b. This only shows that logical
multiplication is not invertible ; and though Boole was able to
make addition invertible and arithmetical by convening that
the sign -(- should only appear between terms mutually ex-
clusive, vet even he failed in regard to logical division, and
bolstering himself by what I have shown in a previous paper
to be an erroneous analogy, he left his system straddling the
fence, having one of the fundamental operations (+) invert-
ible and the other ( X ) not. He says, page 36 : " Hence it can-
not be inferred from the equation zx — zy that the equation
x — v is also true. In other words, the axiom of the alo;e-
braists that both sides of an equation may be divided by the
same quantity has no formal equivalent here." In the article
on " Boole's Logical Method," I showed how this follows
necessarily from the peculiar sliding sort of multiplication
found in logic, where if one factor is wholly or in part identi-
cal with another, we have an analogy to the fact that superim-
posing mathematical planes does not increase the thickness, or
the one may slide wholly or partly into the other and leave no
trace.
I there gave an example, using purposely terms whereof one
" rational " is part of the meaning of another " man."
Let us now add the consideration of an example where this
is not the case.
Algorithmic Division in Logic 111
Suppose x, y, and z to be none of them included in each
other, and that zx = zy, which interpret, stratified rocks —
rocks deposited from water.
We cannot divide out the common term leaving stratified
things = things deposited from water, because the proposi-
tion, in the positive information which it gives about zx and
zy, convej's nothing about the relation of xz to yz.
If we could only legitimately conclude zx = zy, then we
might safely divide and say x — y.
An eminent author wrote me as his opinion that the propo-
sition gave no information "about xz or yz (unstratified
rocks, or rocks not deposited from water)/' This was prob-
ably only a momentary slip, but it leads me to call attention
to the fact that the proposition does tell us xz = yz, i. e.,
unstratified rocks = rocks not deposited from water ; but this
is of no help to us in rendering division possible.
We certainly can not in any off-hand way, or without the
introduction of absurd terms similar to the imaginary in com-
mon algebra, make our logical multiplication throughout
simply invertible.
But if we could exchange -f , and x for two invertible pro-
cesses, and thus avoid the incongruity of Boole's system,
would we not, after all, still be sacrificing logical simplicity in
the real analysis and analogies of the subject to desired ease
of a working calculus?
Inverse operations are defined from the direct. A logical
quotient, then, is the solution of the equation xb = a . . . (1)
in respect to x. This we have already denoted by x = a ;
b . . . (2), and noted that the solution is indefinite.
But it is very remarkable that in this expression, independ-
ently of the value of x, the classes a and b cannot be taken
arbitrarily ; for the equation bx = a involves an independent
relation between the classes a and b, namely, ab = o . '. . (3)
which w T e may obtain by eliminating x, without regard to its
value. We see from this that division in logic is by no means
an unrestrictedly practicable operation, and to fully replace
(1), we must have not only (2), but also (3).
This equation (3) is the necessary condition assumed before
112 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
we can talk of the logical quotient of a by b. a;b has no
sense unless this requirement is fulfilled. Whenever we speak
of a quotient we assume this.
Now, for the value of x = a ; b, we have
a;b — (a-f, b) (v-f-, b), or
= a -)-, vb, or
= ab -|-, v ab.
Where v is an arbitrary, an indefinite class, o ;o = v.
By the use of this v the above equations for a : b contain all
the particular solutions which arise when the real value of x
is more definitely fixed or known.
Two cases are especially worthy of notice : the widest where
v = 1 (the universe), and the narrowest where v = o.
In the latter case the quotient is seen to be coincident with
the dividend, a. In the former, the maximum case, a:b =
a -|- b. If here we take a — o, we have o : b = b = 1 — b.
Here the condition ab =o becomes a mere identity, and may
be neglected, showing that this operation may always be per-
formed. In general, for any product xy, it is immediately
allowable if x -j-, y =■ 1. So if a = b . • . a : b =. 1 .
To continue on deriving division formulae in this remarkable
algebra is an exercise highly suggestive and interesting, but in
reality in the above special case, o : b = 1 — b, we have all
that is necessary for a solution of the logical problem.
It amounts simply to the old familiar operation of forming
the negative of a term, and together with -{-, and ? gives in
the simplest possible way all the deductive powers attained by
Boole's complicated and ill-balanced, yet wonderful , calculus.
Moreover, in reference to these operations, the existence of
a perfect duality enables the whole matter, like modern
geometry, to be exhibited in pairs of corresponding theorems :
e.g., I. aa =: a. I', a-)-, a=a.
II. a (b -f-, c) = ab -)-, ac. II'. a-{-, be = (a+, b) (a -(-, c).
As a final recommendation, uninterpretable steps are thus
entirely obviated, each step being susceptible of simple state-
ment in the ordinary language of logic.
This rounded system, expanded so as to be easily under-
stood b}' beginners, will be called Dual Logic.
THE JOURNAL
OF
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.
Yol. XIII. ] April, 1879. [No. 2.
HEGEL ON ROMANTIC ART.
[translated from the second part of the ^esthetics.]
BY WM. M. BRYANT.
CHAPTER I. — The Religious Circle of Romantic Art.
Since, in the representation of absolute subjectivity or per-
sonality as final and complete truth, Romantic Art has for its
substantial content the union of the spirit with its essence,
the satisfaction of the soul, the reconciliation of God with the
world, — and, by this means, his reconciliation with Himself, —
it is upon this stage that the Ideal appears for the first time to
be completely at home. For it was happiness and independ-
ence, satisfaction, tranquillity, and freedom which we declared
to be the fundamental characteristic of the ideal. Unques-
tionably, we cannot venture to exclude the ideal from the con-
ception and the reality of Romantic Art ; and yet, in relation
to the Classic ideal, it acquires a wholly different form.
Though we have already pointed out this relation in a general
way, we must here, at the beginning, clearly define (feststetten)
its more concrete significance, in order to make manifest the
essential type of the Romantic mode of representing the Ab-
solute. In the Classic ideal the divine is, on the one hand,
XIII — 8
114 The Journal of Speculative PhilosopTnj.
limited to individuality. On the other, the soul and happi-
ness of the particular gods become manifest exclusively through
their corporeal forms ; and, again, since the principle of the
individual in itself and in its externality is set forth in the
inseparable unity of the individual, it is evident that the neg-
ativity of the inherent tendency to dissolution, of corporeal
and of spiritual anguish, of sacrifice, of resignation, cannot
appear as an essential moment. The divine of Classic Art,
indeed, falls asunder into a circle of divinities. But it does
not separate itself, within itself, as universal essentiality on the
one hand, and as particular, subjective, empirical manifesta-
tion in human form and human spirit on the other. Just as
little, too, does it, as non-phenomenal Absolute, possess a
world of evil, of sin, and of error; with the task, on the con-
trary, of bringing this contradiction into reconciliation, and,
as this reconciliation, to be for the first time the truly actual
and divine. In the conception of absolute subjectivity, on
the other hand, there lies the contradiction between substan-
tial universality and personality ; a contradiction whose com-
pleted mediation tills the subjective or personal with its sub-
stance, and elevates the substantial to the rank of an absolute
subject, possessing self-knowledge and rational will. But to
the actuality of personality {SubjeTctivitat') as spirit there
belongs, in the second place, the deeper contradiction of a
finite world, through the cancellation of which as finite, and its
reconciliation with the Absolute, the infinite itself creates its
own essence, through its own absolute activity, for itself; and is
thus, for the first time, absolute spirit. The manifestation of
this actuality on the ground and under the form of the human
spirit acquires, therefore, with respect to its beauty, a relation
altogether different from that in Classic Art. Greek beauty
exhibits the inner quality of spiritual individuality, conceived
wholly in its corporeal form, its deeds and its adventures, com-
pletely expressed in the external, and dwelling happily therein.
For Romantic Art, on the contrary, it is absolutely necessary
that the soul, although it appears in the external, should at
the same time show itself to be gone out of this corporeal
state back into itself, and to live within itself. At this stage,
Iler/el on Romantic Art. 115
therefore, the corporeal can express the internality of the
spirit only in so far as it brings into manifestation the fact that
the soul has its congruent actuality, not in this real existence,
but in itself. Upon this ground beauty is now no longer consid-
ered as the idealizing of the objective form, but as the inner form
of the soul in itself. It is a beauty of internality which is to be
looked upon rather as form and manner (als Art und Weise),
in accordance with which each content is fashioned and de-
veloped in the inner being of the person. It is, therefore, a
beauty which refuses to hold fast the external, even while the
external is thus pervaded by spirit. Since, therefore, the in-
terest is now lost, so far as concerns the purifying of real
outer existence to the point of this classical unity, and is con-
centrated upon the opposite aim of inbreathing the inner form
of the spiritual itself with a new beauty, art gives itself little
concern respecting the external. Just as it finds it immedi-
ately at hand, so it accepts it immediately ; while even on this
side it leaves it to be, as it were, fashioned at discretion. In
Romantic Art, reconciliation with the Absolute is an act of the
inner nature which, indeed, appears in the external, but which
does not have the external itself in its real form as an essen-
tial content and aim. Along with this indifference respecting
the idealizing union of soul and body there appears, for the
special individuality of the external side essentially, portrait-
ure, which does not obliterate particular features and forms,
as they come and go, the requirements of the natural, the im-
perfections of the mortal state, in order to replace them with
more appropriate characteristics. True, in this relation a cor-
respondence must, in general, still be required ; but the precise
form it is to take becomes indifferent, and does not purify itself
from the accidentality of finite empirical existence.
The necessity for this thorough-going characterization of
Romantic Art may likewise be justified from still another side.
The Classic ideal, when it stands upon its own true height, is
secluded within itself, independent, reserved, non-receptive, a
complete or rounded individual, which excludes others from
itself. Its form is its own. It lives wholly and exclusively
within this form, and dares not expose any portion of itself
11(3 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
to participation in the merely empirical and accidental.
Hence whoever, as spectator, approaches this ideal, cannot ap-
propriate to himself its existence as something external that is
related to his own phenomenal being (Erscheinung). Though
the forms of the eternal gods are human, they do not, for all
that, pertain to the mortal state ; for these gods have not them-
selves suffered the infirmity of finite existence, but are raised
above this without mediation. Participation in the empirical
and relative is broken off. On the contrary, infinite sub-
jectivity, the Absolute of Romantic Art, is not merged (ver-
senkt) in its manifestation. It exists within itself, and by this
very fact does not possess its externality as something belong-
ing essentialh r to itself, but as something other than itself, —
something quite freely set aside, and belonging to the indiffer-
ent or neglected beyond. Besides, this external must enter
into the form of the common-place, of the empirically human,
since here God himself descends into finite temporal exist-
ence, in order to mediate and to reconcile the absolute contra-
diction which lies in the conception of the Absolute. Thus
empirical man also acquires a side from which there is opened
to him a relationship, — a connecting link, — so that he himself
may with confidence draw near in his immediate naturalness;
since the external form does not, through classic austerity
(Strenge) toward the particular and accidental, repel him, but
presents to his view that which he himself has, or which he
knows and loves iii some object in his immediate surround-
ings. It is through this air of being at home (Heimath-
lichkeif) in ordinary affairs, that Romantic Art confidently
exerts its attractiveness in all directions. But, since now the
renounced externality has, through this very renunciation, the
task of pointing to the beauty of the soul, to the loftiness of
internality, to the holiness of spiritual existence, it tends at
the same time to merge itself in the internal character of the
spirit and in its absolute content, and to appropriate to itself
this inner nature.
In this surrender (Ilingabe), finallj r , there lies, in general, the
universal idea that in Romantic Art infinite subjectivity is not
solitary and alone within itself, like a Greek god, which lived
Hegel on Romantic Art. 117
within itself, wholly complete in the happiness of its seclu-
sion. Rather it comes forth from itself and enters into rela-
tion with another. But this " other ' still belongs to sub-
jectivity, which finds itself again therein and remains in unity
with itself. This unit-being (^Einseyn) of subjectivity in
its " other " is the unique, beautiful content of Romantic Art,
the ideal of the same, which has essentially for its form and man-
ifestation, internality and subjectivity, soul, sensibility. The
Romantic Ideal, therefore, expresses a relation to other spir-
itual being, which is so bound up with internality that it is
only precisely in this other that the soul in internality lives
with itself. This life virtually in another is, as sensibility,
the sincerity and fervor of love.
a/
We can, therefore, declare Love to be the universal content
of the Romantic in its religious circle. Still, love first acquires
its true ideal form when it expresses the affirmative, immedi-
ate reconciliation of the spirit. But now, before we can, upon
this stage, consider the most beautiful ideal satisfaction, we
have previously, on the one side, to traverse the process of
negativity, into which the absolute subject, or person, enters,
as subjugation of the tinitude and immediacy of its human
manifestation, — a process which unfolds itself in the life, suffer-
ing, and death of God for the world and humanity, and its
possible reconciliation with God. On the other side, it is
humanity which now, on the contrary, has on its part to com-
plete the same process, in order that in itself there may be
made actual what is as yet only potential in the reconcilia-
tion referred to. In the midst of this stage, in which the neg-
ative side of the sensuous and spiritual entrance into death
and the grave constitutes the central point, lies the expression
of the affirmative bliss of the contentment, which in this circle
belongs to the most beautiful objects of art.
Division. — For the more precise division of our first chap-
ter, therefore, we have three different spheres to pass
through.
1. The history of the redemption of Christ. The moments
or elements of the absolute spirit represented in God himself,
in so far as he becomes man, has an actual outer existence in
118 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
the world of finitude and its concrete relations, and in this
most uniquely particular outer-existence brings the absolute
itself into manifestation.
2. Love in its positive form, as reconciled feeling of the
human and the divine ; the holy family, the maternal love of
Mary, the love of Christ, and the love of the disciples.
3. The Church ; the spirit of God as present in humanity
through the conversion of the soul, and the destruction of
mere naturalness and finitude, generally through the return of
man to God, — a return in which, first of all, repentance and
martyrdom constitute the mediation between man and God.
/. History of Redemption through Christ.
1. Art apparently superfluous. — 2. Its necessary intervention. — 3. Accidental
particulars of the external representation.
The reconciliation of the spirit with itself, absolute his-
tory, the process of the truth, is brought to view and certi-
tude through the manifestation of God in the world. The
simple content of this reconciliation is the combination or
blending (Ineinssetzung) of absolute essentiality with particu-
lar human subjectivity ; an individual man is God, and God
is an individual man. Herein lies the fact that virtually —
that is, according to conception and essence — humanity is
truly spirit; and each particular subject or person, therefore,
as man, possesses infinite destiny and importance, namely,
to exist as a purpose of God, and to be in unity with God.
But in just the same measure man becomes subject to the
demand to give actuality to this conception, which is at first
only a mere possibility (nur ein blosses Ansich) ; that is, to
fix upon his own union with God as the goal of his existence,
and to reach that goal. In so far as he has fulfilled this des-
tiny he is a free, infinite spirit. This he may do only in so far
as the unity to which we have referred is the primordial ele-
ment, the eternal foundation of the human and the divine
nature. The goal is at the same time the beginning, existing
in and for itself. It is the point of departure for Romantic
religious consciousness, namely, that God himself is man, —
Hegel on Romantic Art. 119
is flesh, — in order that he may become this individual subject
or person, in whom, therefore, the reconciliation does not
remain a mere possibility, in which case it would lie known
only in the abstract conception thereof; but rather he pre-
sents himself as existing objectively, even for the perceiving
(anschauende) consciousness, as this individual, actually-exist-
ing man. This moment or element of individuality is of
importance, because therein each individual possesses the view
of his own reconciliation with God, which in and for itself is
no mere potentiality, but is actual, and for this reason has
been brought into full manifestation as real in this one sub-
ject or person. But since now the unity, as spiritual recon-
ciliation of opposite moments, is no merely immediate individ-
ual-being (JEinsseyn), there must, in the second place, be
brought into existence in this one subject or person also the
process of the spirit as history of the same, through which
process the person for the first time truly becomes spirit. This
history of the spirit undergoing completion in the individual
contains nothing else than what we have already referred to,
namely, that the individual man shall put aside (abthue) his
individuality in both the corporeal and the spiritual sense, —
that is, that he shall sutler and die ; but on the contrary shall,
after the pain of death, reappear from the dead ; shall arise
as the glorified God, as the actual spirit which now, indeed,
has entered into existence as an individual, as this subject or
person ; and yet, even so, is essentially only in truth God, as
spirit in his Church.
1. This history furnishes the essential object for religious
Romantic Art, but for which art, taken purely as art, doubtless
becomes somewhat superfluous ; for the principal fact lies here
in the inner certitude, in the sentiment and perception of this
eternal truth, in faith, which bears testimony to the truth in
and for itself, and thus becomes identified (hineinVerlegt ) with
the inner nature of the imagination. Developed faith, namely,
consists in the immediate certitude of having the truth itself
present to the consciousness along with the conception of the
moments, or elements, of this histoiy. But if it is in the
consciousness of the truth that the real interest centres, then
120 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
the beauty of manifestation, as Avell as representation itself,.
is altogether an indifferent affair, since the truth is present to
consciousness independent of art.
2. On the other hand, however, the religious content ac-
quires at the same time, in itself, the moment or element
through which it not only becomes accessible to, but in a
certain sense demands, art. In the religious conception of
Romantic Art, as we have already often affirmed (angefuhrf) ,
the content itself bears within itself the tendency to carry
anthropomorphism to the last degree of development ; since
this content has for its central point the being of the Absolute
and the Divine, in combination with human subjectivitv as
actually visible (erschauten), and, therefore, also as external,
corporeal, phenomenal, and must represent the Divine in this,
its individuality, which is closely connected with the neces-
sities of nature and with finite modes of manifestation. In
this respect art furnishes to the perceiving consciousness, for
the manifestation of God in the immediate present, an actual
individual form, even a concrete image of the external char-
acteristics of those events in which are unfolded the birth of
Christ, His life and suffering, death, resurrection, and ascen-
sion to the right hand of God. It is, therefore, in art alone
that there is retained an ever-renewed presence (Dauer) of
the already vanished, actual manifestation of God.
3. In so far, however, as in this manifestation emphasis
is laid upon the fact that God is essentially an individual
person, exclusive of any other, and is not merely the unity of
divine and human subjectivity in general, but represents that
unity in the form and person of this particular man (namely,
Christ), in so far there appears in art, by reason of the con-
tent itself, all phases of the accidental ity and particularity of
finite existence, from which beautv at the heiirht of the Classic
ideal had purified itself. What the free comprehension of the
beautiful had removed as incompatible with it, — that is, the
non-ideal, — is here necessarily taken up and brought to view
as a moment or element having its origin in the content it-
self.
a. If, therefore, the person of Christ, as such, has been
Hegel on Romantic Art. 121
frequently chosen as the object of representation, those ar-
tists have succeeded in the least degree who have attempted
to make of Christ an ideal in tlie sense and in the mode ofthe
Classic ideal. Such heads and forms of Christ may, indeed,
show seriousness, calmness, and dignity ; but, on the other
hand, Christ must possess internality and absolutely universal
spirituality; while, on the other hand, He must possess sub-
jective personality and individuality, and both these are
irreconcilably opposed to felicity (Seligkeit) in the sensuous
nature of the human form. To combine these two terms, —
i. e., expression and form, — is a task of the utmost difficulty ;
so that painters have always fallen into embarrassment when-
ever they have departed from the traditional type. Serious-
ness and depth of consciousness, indeed, must be expressed
in such heads ; but, on the one hand, the features and forms
of the face and figure should just as little be of a merely ideal
beauty as, on the other, they should be reduced to the merely
common and ugly ; or, again, should be elevated to the merely
sublime, as such. With respect to the external form, it is
best to adopt the medium between the particular natural
phase and ideal beauty. To attain precisely to this appropri-
ate medium is difficult, and hence it is especially in the choice
which he here makes, that the ability, the fine sense, and spirit
of the artist is displayed. For the most part, independent
of the content which belongs to faith, we are, in the rep-
resentations of this entire circle, drawn (rjewiesen) to the
side of subjective activity more than was the case in the
Classic Ideal. In Classic Art, the artist desires to represent
the spiritual and divine immediately in the form of the cor-
poreal itself, in the organism of the human figure ; and the
corporeal forms, in their modifications, which do away with
the common and finite, furnish, therefore, the chief phase of
interest. In our present circle the image remains common,
familiar (beTeannte) ; its forms are, to a certain extent, indiffer-
ent, — something particular, which ma}' exist on this wise or on
that, — and in this respect may be handled with greater freedom.
The predominant interest lies, therefore, on the one hand, in
the form and method (Art und Weise) with which the artist
122 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
causes (Jiisst) the spiritual and innermost nature, as this spirit-
ual being itself, to shine forth through this common and
familiar form. On the other "hand, it lies in the subjective
execution, the technical means and skill through which he
inspires his forms with spiritual life, and gives them the clear-
ness and comprehensibility of the spiritual.
b. As to what concerns the further content : That lies, as
we have already seen, in the absolute history which has its
origin in the conception of spirit itself, which renders objec-
tive the conversion of the corporeal and spiritual individuality
in its essentiality and universality. For the reconciliation of
the individual subjectivity with God does not appear immedi-
ately as harmonj 7 , but as harmony which proceeds originally
from infinite pain, from resignation, from sacrifice, from de-
struction of the finite, both sensuous and subjective. The finite
and the infinite are here combined in one ; andt he reconcilia-
tion, in its true depth, internality, and power of mediation,
shows itself only through the magnitude and harshness of the
contradiction, which must find its solution. Hence, also, the
unutterable poignancy (Scharfe) and dissonance of suffering,
torment, anguish, to which this contradiction leads, belongs to
the very nature of the spirit, whose, absolute satisfaction here
constitutes the content.
This process of the spirit, taken in and for itself, is the
essence, the central idea (Begriff) of spirit in general, and,
therefore, acquires (enihali) the characteristic of being, for
consciousness, the universal history which must repeat itself
in each and every individual consciousness. For conscious-
ness, as many individuals, is precisely the reality and existence
of universal spirit. In the next place, however, since spirit
has, as its essential moment or element, actuality in the indi-
vidual, this universal history presents itself only in the form
of one individual to whom it is attributed, as belonging espe-
cially to Him, as the history of His birth, His life, death, and
return from the grave; and yet in this individuality there is
retained, at the same time, the significance of being the his-
tory of the universal, absolute Spirit itself.
The special turning-point in this life of God is the abandon-
Hegel on Romantic Art. 123
ment of his individual existence as this man. It is the his-
tory of the passion, the sorrow on the cross, the Golgotha of
the spirit, the pain of death. In so far, now, as there lies in
the content itself the necessity that the external corporeal
manifestation, — tbe immediate existence as individual, — shall
appear in the pain of its negativity as the negative, in order
that the spirit may reach its heaven through sacrificing sensu-
ous and subjective individuality to its (the spirit's) truth, in
so far this sphere of representation is separated almost wholly
from the classical plastic ideal. On the one hand, for exam-
ple, the earthly body and the infirmity of human nature gener-
al lv is elevated and honored, since it is God himself who
appears therein ; but, on the other hand, there is, first of all,
this human and corporeal, which is posited as negative, and
arrives at manifestation in its pain, while in the Classic ideal
it did not lose the undisturbed harmony with the spiritual and
substantial. Christ scourged, crowned with thorns, bearing
his cross to the place of execution, raised upon the cross,
expiring in the torture of his agonizing, protracted death, —
all this is excluded from representation in accordance with the
forms of Greek beauty; but in these situations there exists
the higher quality of holiness in itself, the depth of the inner
nature, the infinitude of suffering, as an eternal moment or
element of the spirit, as endurance and divine tranquility.
Respecting this form a further circle is constituted, — partly
by friends, partly by enemies. The friends themselves, in-
deed, are by no means ideal personages ; but, in accordance
with the conception, they are particular individuals, ordinary
men drawn to Christ by the attraction of the spirit. The
enemies, on the contrary, since they place themselves in oppo-
sition to God, condemn Him, mock, torture, and crucify Him,
are represented as internally base ; and the representation of
the inner malignity and hatred against God produces in the
outward expression ferocity, rudeness, barbarity, rage, dis-
tortion of form. In all these respects deformity appears here
as a necessary moment in contrast with Classic beauty.
c. But in the divine nature the process of death is to be
considered only as a point of transition, through which the
124 TJie Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
reconciliation of the spirit with itself is brought to complete-
ness, and the two sides of the divine and the human, of
the absolutely universal on the one hand and of phenomenal
subjectivity on the other (and whose mediation is the thing of
chief importance), combine into one affirmative totality.
This affirmation, which is in general the foundation and origi-
nal element, must, therefore, give proof of itself in this posi-
tive way. Among the events in the life of Christ, those afford-
ing the most suitable subjects for the expression of this idea
are the resurrection and ascension, apart from the moments
in which he appears as teacher. Here, however, there arises
the gravest difficult}^, especially for the arts of visible repre-
sentation. For, in part, it is the spiritual, as such, which must
attain to representation in its internality ; in part, the Abso-
lute Spirit, which, in its infinitude and universality, affirma-
tively established in unity with subjectivity and elevated above
immediate existence, must, nevertheless, still bring the whole
expression of its infinitude and internality into view and sen-
suous realization (zur AnscJtaung unci Auffindung} in the cor-
poreal and external.
II. Religious Love.
1. Idea of the Absolute in Love. — 2. Of Sentiment. — 3. Love as Ideal of Ro-
mantic Art.
Spirit in and for itself is not, as spirit, immediately an object
of art. Its highest actual reconciliation in itself can only be a
reconciliation and satisfaction in the spiritual, as such, which,
in its pure ideal element, withdraws itself from artistic ex-
pression. For absolute truth stands on a higher level than
that of the appearance {Scliein) of the beautiful, which can-
not release itself from the ground of the sensuous and phe-
nomenal. If, however, spirit in its affirmative reconciliation
acquires through art a spiritual existence, in which it is not
only known as pure thought, as ideal, but can he felt and con-
templated, then there remains to us only the internality of the
spirit, — i. e., soul, sentiment, — as the one only form which
fulfils the double requirement of spirituality on the one side,
Hegel on Romantic Art. 125
and of the possibility of being comprehended and represented
by art, on the other. This internality, which alone corre-
sponds to the conception of the free spirit satisfied within
itself, is Love.
1. In love, — that is, on the side of the content, — there are
present those moments, or elements, which we have shown to
constitute the fundamental conception of absolute spirit,
which conception is that of the reconciled return of the spirit
out of its other to itself. This ether, again, as other, in
which the spirit abides with itself, can ow\y be spiritual, a
spiritual personality. The true essence of love consists in
this : that consciousness surrenders itself, forgets itself in an-
other self, and, nevertheless, through this very surrender and
forgetfulness of self, attains for the first time to the full pos-
session of self. This mediation of the spirit with itself, and
the development thereof to a complete totality, is the Abso-
lute. And yet, doubtless, this is not to be taken in the sense
( Weise) that the Absolute, as merely singular, and, therefore,
finite subjectivity, may recognize (znsammeiischlosse ) itself
in another finite subject. Rather the content of subjectivity,
securing in another its own mediation with itself, is here the
Absolute itself; it is the spirit which, in another spirit, comes
for the first time to be knowledge and will pertaining to itself
as to the Absolute, and which has the satisfaction of this
knowledge.
2. Now, more closely considered, this content, as love, has
the form of sentiment concentrated within itself; which senti-
ment, instead of rendering its content explicit, — instead of
brinoino- it into consciousness, in accordance with its definite-
ness and universality, — far rather collects the breadth and im-
measurable extent of the same within the simple depth of the
soul, without unfolding to the imagination the wealth and
variety of treasures which it contains within itself-. Thus
such content, which in its pure, spiritually characterized (aus-
geprdgten) universality, would be denied artistic representa-
tion, comes again, in this subjective existence as sentiment, to
be within the range of art ; for, on the one side, with the still
undeveloped depth which constitutes the characteristic of the
126 The Journal of Speculative Pliilosophy .
soul, there is no necessity compelling the development of this
content to perfect clearness ; while, on the other side, it se-
cures at the same time from this form an element which is
appropriate to art. For soul, heart, sentiment, however
spiritual and internal they may remain, nevertheless always
have relation to the sensuous and corporeal, so that they are
able to give indications of the innermost life and beino- of the
spirit through the corporeal itself, through the look, through
the features of the countenance, or, more spiritually still,
through tone and word. But the external can appear here
only so far as it is called upon to express the innermost nature
itself in that phase of its internality which belongs to the soul,
or sentiment.
3. If, now, we agree upon the reconciliation of the internal
with its reality as the conception of the ideal, we can at the
same time designate love as the ideal of Romantic art in its
religious circle. It is spiritual beauty, as such. The Classic
ideal also pointed out the mediation and reconciliation of the
spirit with its other. But here the " other" of the spirit was
the external form pervaded b}^ the spirit itself, and constitut-
ing its corporeal organism. In love, on the contrary, the
other of the spiritual is not the natural, but is itself a spirit-
ual consciousness, an other person (/Subjelct), — an "other"
which spirit thus realizes for itself in its own realm, in its own
most appropriate element. Thus love, in its affirmative satis-
faction and virtually (in sich) tranquilized, happy reality, is
ideal, but at the same time absolutely spiritual beauty, which,
by reason of its internality, can express itself only in the in-
ternality, and as the internality of the soul. For the spirit,
which in spirit is present and immediately certain of itself,
and thus has the spiritual as material and ground of its exist-
ence, is in itself internal, and, more precisely, is the inter-
nality of Love.
a. God is love, and therefore, also, His deepest essence in
this form appropriate to art is to be seized and represented in
the person of Christ. But Christ is divine love. On the one
hand, as the object of this love, he is God himself, considered
as non-phenomenal essence ; on the other, he manifests him-
Hegel on Romantic Art. 127
self to redeemed humanity, and thus the unfolding (JLufgehen)
of one subject, or person, in a definite other subject, or per-
son, can by so much the less come to light in Him ; but rather
there is made manifest the idea of love in its universality, —
the Absolute, the spirit of truth, in the element and in the form
of sentiment. The expression of love, also, is generalized in
proportion to the universality of its object, and in this ex-
pression, therefore, the subjective concentration of the heart
and soul does not become the essential thing; just as, though
in a wholly different relation, the general idea, and not the
subjective side of the individual form and sentiment, was
given an important significance among the Greeks in the an-
cient Titanic Eros and in Venus Urania. Only when, in the
representations of Romantic Art, Christ is comprehended rather
as at the same time an individual person, absorbed in himself,
does the expression of love appear in the form of subjective
internality, though, indeed, always elevated and supported by
the universality of its content.
b. But the subject most accessible and most favorable to
religious Romantic phantasy is the love of the Virgin Mary, —
Maternal Jove. Eminently real, human, it is also wholly spir-
itual. It is disinterested, purified from all desire, is non-sen-
suous and yet present ; it is internality absolutely satisfied
and happy. It is a love without longing ; and yet it is not
friendship, for friendship, however deeply tender it may be,
still demands a return, — an essential object as ground of
the friendly union. Maternal love, on the contrary, apart
from any reference to ulterior aims or interests, possesses an
immediate basis in the natural bond of connection between
mother and child. Here, however, the love of the mother is
limited just as little on the side of nature. In the child,
whom she has borne beneath her heart, to whom in sorrow
she has given birth, Mary possesses the complete knowledge
and sentiment of herself. And this same child, the blood of
her blood, stands, again, high above her; and yet this
higher Being belongs to her, and is the object in which she
forgets herself and likewise attains to her own complete
being. The natural internality of maternal love is thoroughly
128 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
spiritualized ; it has the divine for its peculiar content, but
this divine quality remains latent (leise) and unknown, won-
drously interwoven with natural unity and human sensibility.
It is blissful maternal love, and pertains only to this one
mother, who is first and last in the possession of this happiness
(in its full measure). This love is, indeed, not without grief,
but the grief is only the sorrow of the loss, the mourning
over the suffering, dying, dead son ; and, as we shall see at a
later stage, does not pertain to injustice and torture inflicted
from without, or to the endless conflict with sin, to the pain and
torment of repentance and expiation. Such internality is here
spiritual beauty ; it is the ideal, the human identification of
man with God, with the spirit, with truth ; it is a pure forget-
fulness, a complete cancellation of self, and } T et, in this for-
getfulness, it is thoroughly (von Hause aus) one with that in
which it is merged, and this united being now realizes a bliss-
ful contentment.
In such tine form does maternal love, — this image, as it
were, of the spirit, — enter into Romantic Art in place of the
spirit itself, for it is possible for art to seize spirit only in the
form of sentiment, and the sentiment of the union of the in-
dividual with God is present in the most original, most real,
and most lively manner only in the maternal love of the Ma-
donna. It must, of necessity, enter into art if the ideal, the
affirmative, satisfied reconciliation, is not to be wanting in the
representations of this circle. There was, therefore, a time in
which the maternal love of the Blessed Virgin pertained in
general to the highest and holiest, and was venerated and rep-
resented as such. But when the spirit brings itself back into
its own element, separated from all natural bases of senti-
ment, back to consciousness of itself, then spiritual mediation
alone, free from such bases, must be considered as the opeii
(freie) way to truth ; and hence, in Protestantism, in contrast
with this Madonna-worship of art and faith, the Holy Ghost
and the inner mediation of the spirit has come to be the
higher truth.
c. In the third place, finally, the affirmative reconciliation
of the spirit appears as sentiment in the disciples of Christ,
Hegel on Romantic Art. 129
in the women and friends who follow Him. These are for the
most part characters who, in the hands of their divine Friend,
have become penetrated by the rigor (Harte) of the idea of
Christianity, and who, without having experienced the outer
and inner torment of conversion, have become strengthened
and enlightened through the friendship, the doctrine, and the
exhortation of Christ. Thus they remain steadfast. From
these, indeed, the immediate unity and internal quality of
maternal love is, without doubt, quite separate ; but the bond
of unity is here also the presence of Christ, the custom of
living in community, and the immediate attraction of spirit.
III. The Spirit of the Church.
1. Martyrdom. — 2. Eepentance and Conversion. — 3. Miracles and Legends.
When we come to the transition into a final sphere of this
circle, we find that this can be joined on to what has already
been said concerning the history of Christ. The immediate
existence of Christ, as this individual man who is God, comes
to be posited or assumed as cancelled. That is, in the mani-
festation of God as man, it becomes evident that the true
reality of God is not immediate being, but rather that it is
spirit. The reality of the Absolute as infinite subjectivity is
only the spirit itself; God is present only in knowledge, in
the element of the internal. This absolute existence of God,
as no less ideal than subjective universality , does not, there-
fore, limit itself to this individual, who, in His history, has
brought to light (zur Darstellung) the reconciliation of human
with divine subjectivity, but extends itself to the human con-
sciousness reconciled with God ; in general, to humanity,
which exists as many individuals. For himself, however,
taken as individual personality, man is doubtless not immedi-
ately divine. On the contrary, he is precisely the , finite and
human ; and the human only arrives at reconciliation with
God in so far as it actually posits itself as negative, — and, vir-
tually, it is negative, — and thus cancels itself as the finite. It
is through this deliverance from the imperfections of finitude
that humanity for the first time comes to itself, or recognizes
XIII— 9
130 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
itself (ergiebt sich), as the external and present existence of
the Absolute Spirit; as the spirit of the Church, in which the
union of the human with the divine spirit is completed within
human actuality itself, as the real mediation of that which vir-
tually — that is, according to the idea of spirit — is originally
in unity.
The principal forms which are to be considered of impor-
tance, with respect to this new content of Romantic Art, may
be presented in the following divisions :
The individual subject or person who, estranged from God,
lives in sin and in the conflict of immediacy, and in the in-
completeness (Bediirftigkeit) of the finite, has the infinite
destination of coming into reconciliation with itself and with
God. But since, now, in the history of redemption through
Christ, the negativity of immediate unity has proved to be the
essential moment or element of the spirit, it becomes evident
that the individual subject or person can elevate himself to
freedom and peace in God only through the transformation of
the natural and of finite personality.
This elevation of finitude appears here under a threefold
form.
1. First, as the external repetition of the history of the
Passion, which presents itself under the form of actual bodily
suffering, — as martyrdom.
2. Secondh/, it is exhibited as a transformation produced in
the inner nature of the soul, — as internal mediation through
awakening, repentance, and conversion.
3. Thirdly, and finally, the manifestation of God in earthly
actuality is comprehended in such a way that the ordinary
course of nature, and the natural form of other events, are
cancelled, and the power and presence of the Divine become
manifest ; whence the miracle acquires the form of an actual
occurrence.
1. Martyrs. — The first manifestation in which the spirit of
the Church proves itself to be actual in the human subject or
person consists in this : That man reflects in himself the
divine process, and reproduces the eternal history of God.
Here, again, vanishes the expression of immediate affirmative
Hegel on Romantic Art. 131
reconciliation, since now man must secure reconciliation
through the cancellation of his finitude. Hence that which,
at the lirst stage, constituted the central point, here appears
in greatly enhanced proportions ; for the destruction of the
hypothesis of the inadequacy and unworthiness of humanity,
now assumes importance as the highest and exclusive task.
a. The peculiar content of this sphere is, therefore, the en-
durance of sufferings imposed by cruelty, as well as individual
resignation, sacrifice, privation, self-imposed for the sake of
being in want ; for the sake of arousing every species of suf-
fering, agonies, and torments, that by this means the soul
may become purified, and may feel itself to be at length whole,
contented, and happy in its heaven. This negativity of pain
becomes, in martyrdom, an end in itself, and the greatness of
the glorification is measured by the dreadfulness of that which
the man has suffered and the tearfulness of that which he has
overcome. The first thing now which, in the uncompleted
inner nature of the person, can be posited or assumed as neg-
ative in relation to his alienation from the world and to his
sanctification, is his natural existence, his life, the satisfying
of the primary necessities of existence. Bodily suffering,
therefore, constitutes the principal object of this circle. In
part, such suffering was imposed upon the faithful by enemies
and persecutors of the faith through hate and desire for ven-
geance ; in part, it was voluntarily assumed (vorgenommeti ),
with a view to escape from individual inclination, through total
abstraction. Here, in the fanaticism of endurance, man ac-
cepts both, not as injustice, but as blessing. For through
suffering alone can the tyranny of the flesh — esteemed as
altogether sinful — be broken, the obduracy of the heart and
the soul be subdued, and reconciliation with God be attained.
In so far, however, as in such situations the conversion of
the inner nature can be represented only in that which shocks
us, and in the ill treatment (Mishandlung ) of the external, in
like degree is the sense of the beautiful likely to be perverted
or destroyed. Hence the objects of this circle constitute a
very dangerous material for art ; for, on the one hand, the in-
dividuals must be represented as of a wholly other class than
132 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
was required in the history of the sufferings of Christ. They
must be represented as actual, particular individuals, marked
with the stamp of temporal existence, and in the infirmity of
finitude and of the natural state. On the other hand, the
torments and unheard-of atrocities, the destruction and dis-
location of limbs, bodily torments, the modes of execution, —
such as decapitation, roasting over a slow fire, burning at the
stake, boiling in oil, breaking upon the wheel, etc., — all these
are hideous, revolting, disgusting, external appearances whose
separation from beauty is too great to admit of their being
chosen by a sound art as the objects of its representations.
The mode of treatment of the artist may, indeed, be excel-
lent, so far as the execution is concerned ; but the interest for
this excellence is always related only to the subjective side,
which, though it may seem to be in accordance with the rules
of art, nevertheless struggles in vain to bring its material com-
pletely into harmony with itself.
b. Hence the representation of this negative process de-
mands still another moment or element, which rises above
this torment of body and soul and turns toward affirmative
reconciliation. This is the reconciliation of the spirit in
itself, which, as aim and result, has been attained through tor-
ments endured to the end. In this sense, martyrs are the
conservers of the divine, in opposition to the rudeness of ex-
ternal tyranny and the barbarity of unbelief. For the sake of
the kingdom of heaven they endure pain and death ; and this
courage, this strength, perseverance, and blessedness, must,
in like degree, be manifest in them. Still, this internality of
faith and of love, in its spiritual beauty, is by no means a spirit-
ual health, which gives perfect soundness to the body ; it is
rather an internality which has been thoroughly wrought upon
by suffering, or which comes to light in the midst of sorrow,
and Avhich still contains within it, as something peculiarly
essential, the moment or element of pain. Painting, espe-
cially, has frequently chosen such piety as the object of its
representations. The chief task of painting, then, consists
in the expression of the blessedness of the martyr in con-
trast with the revolting laceration of his flesh ; and this ex-
Hegel on llomantic Art. 133
pression must appear simply in the features of the counte-
nance, — in the look, etc., — as resignation, as triumph over
pain, as satisfaction in the attainment and increasing-realiza-
tion (Lebendigwerden) of the Divine Spirit in the inner being
of the person. If, on the contrary, sculpture attempts to pre-
sent such content to view, it is found to be less suited to rep-
resent concentrated internality in this spiritualized way, and
must, therefore, reject the painful, the distorted ( Verzerrte) y
in so far as this announces itself as developed in the corporeal
organism.
c. But, in the third place, the side of self-denial and en-
durance concerns, at this stage, not only natural existence
and immediate finitude, but directs the aim of the soul to-
ward heaven, in a decree so extreme that the human and
earthly, even when it is itself of a moral and rational type
(Art), comes to be despised and rejected. Here, indeed, the
idea of the conversion of the spirit is made vital and active by
the spirit within itself; and the more uncultured the spirit is,
only so much the more barbarously and abstractly does it turn
itself with its concentrated force of piety against everything
which, as finite, stands in opposition to this in-itself-simple
infinitude of the religious sense ; against every particular sen-
timent of humanity ; against the many-sided inclinations,
relations, circumstances, and duties of the heart. For moral
life in the family, the ties of friendship, of blood, of love, of
the state, of vocation, — all this pertains to the worldly ; and
the worldly, in so far as it is here still unpervaded by the
absolute conceptions of faith, and is not developed to unity
and reconciliation with the same, appears to the abstract inter-
nality of the believing soul to be excluded from the circle of
its sentiments and duties, and to stand in opposition thereto
as something in itself nugatory, and, therefore, as hostile and
hateful to piety. The moral organism of the human world,
therefore, is not as yet respected, since the phases (Seiten)
and duties thereof are not as yet recognized as necessary,
authorized links in the chain of an actuality in itself rational, in
which nothing; can with impunity be elevated in one-sided
fashion to an isolated independence, nor yet can it be sacri-
134 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
ficed, but must be retained as a valid moment or element. In
this respect, religious reconciliation itself remains here merely
abstract, and shows itself in the simple heart as an intensity
of faith without extension, — as the piety of the solitary soul
which has not yet progressed to a universally developed con-
fidence in, and to an intelligent, comprehensive certainty of
itself. When, now, the force of such a soul places itself
resolutely in opposition to worldliness, considered merely as
negative, and forcibly separates itself from all human ties,
though they be originally the strongest, it must be evident
that this is a crndeness of spirit and a barbarous tyranny of
abstraction which can only repel us. We would, therefore,
in accordance with the standpoint of our present conscious-
ness, honor and revere the religious spirit (Religiositat) in
such representations ; but when piety proceeds so far that we
see it wrought up to the point of violence against what is in
itself rational and moral, Ave are no longer able to sympathize
with such fanaticism of sanctity ; but, on the contrary, this
species of renunciation, so far as it repels from itself, destroys
and crushes what is in and for itself justified and hallowed,
must appear to us as immoral, and as contradicting the true
religious spirit. Of this class are many legends, tales, and
poems. For example, the story of a man who, full of love for
his wife and family, and loved in return by all belonging to
him, left his house, wandered about as a pilgrim, and, return-
ins at leno-th in the disguise of a beggar, refrained from
making himself known. Alms were given him, and, out of
compassion, a small space was granted him under the stair-
way for his dwelling-place. Thus he lived for twenty years
in his own house, beholding, the while, the sorrow of his
family respecting himself, and only at last in his dying mo-
ments revealing himself to them. This monstrous caprice of
fanaticism we are called upon to venerate as sanctity. Such
persistence of renunciation may well remind us of the ex-
quisiteness of the torture to which the Hindu likewise freely
submits himself for religious ends. Still, the endurance of
the Hindu has an altogether different character. With that
people, indeed, man puts himself into a state of obtuseness and
Hegel on Romantic Art. 135
unconsciousness, while in our world it is pain, and purposed
consciousness and keen sense (Empjindung) of pain that
constitutes the precise aim ; for here it is by this means that
greater purity is thought to be acquired ; and the degree of
the purity will, it is believed, be the greater the more closely
the suffering is bound up with the consciousness of worth and
of the love for renounced kindred, and with the constant view
of the renunciation. The richer the heart is which imposes
such proof upon itself, the more noble the possession which it
bears within itself, and which it yet believes itself bound to
condemn as nugatory, and to stamp as sinful, by so much the
more cruel (desto harter) is the state of non-reconciliation,-
which may produce the most fearful convulsions and the wild-
est dissensions. According to our conception, such a soul, —
which is at home in a visionary rather than in a real world, as
such, and which, therefore, also feels itself lost in the sub-
stantially valid realms and aims of this definite actuality, and
in spite of the fact that it is completely contained and in-
volved therein, still looks upon these customary affairs as
negative in relation to its own absolute character (Bestim-
murig), — such a soul, in its self-imposed suffering no less
than in its resignation, must appear to us insane; so that we
can no more feel sympathy for it than we can bring about its
elevation out of this state. Such deeds have no aim possess-
ing any further validity or content than what pertains exclu-
sively to the individual himself, separate and apart from all
others. His only aim is to secure the salvation of his own
soul, to make sure of his own happiness. But whether this
particular one should be happy or not is a matter of concern
to very few.
2. Repentance and Conversion. — The opposite mode of
representation in this sphere withdraws, on the one hand, from
the external torment of the corporeal nature ; and, on the
other, from the negative tendency against what is in itself jus-
tified in worldly actuality, and thus wins, in respect both to
its content and its form, a basis commensurate with ideal
art. This basis is the conversion of the internal nature, which
is now expressed only in its spiritual pain, in the conversion
136 TliejJournal of Speculative JPhilosojrfiy.
of the soul. Thus, in the first place, the perpetual barbarity
and frightf illness of the torment of the body falls into abey-
ance ; and, secondly, the barbarous phase of the religious
sense of the soul no longer holds itself steadfastly in opposi-
tion to the customs of humanity, in order that it may, in the
abstraction of its pure intellectual satisfaction, violently tread
beneath its feet every other class of enjoyment in the sorrow
of an absolute renunciation, but puts itself in opposition to
that alone which in human nature is, in fact, sinful, criminal,
base. It is a high assurance that faith — that tendency of
the spirit itself towards God — is able to undo the accom-
plished deedreven when it is sinful and criminal ; to make of
it something foreign to the individual, to wash it quite away.
This withdrawal from the evil, from the absolutely negative,
which becomes actual in the individual after the subjective
will and spirit, once become base, has now despised and
destroyed itself; — this return to the positive, which is now
established as the only actual sphere in contradistinction to
the earlier existence in sin, — is the true infinite power of relig-
ious love, the presence and actuality of the absolute spirit in
the individual itself. The feeling of the strength and persis-
tence of the individual spirit (which through God, to whom it
turns, overcomes evil, and in so far as it mediates itself with
Him, knows itself to be one with Him) gives, then, the satis-
faction and happiness of perceiving (anzusc/iaueu) God as
indeed absolute other, in contradistinction to sin and tempor-
ality, and yet of knowing this infinity at the same time as
identical with me as this person, of bearing within myself this
self-consciousness of God as my Ego, my self-consciousness,
so certainly as I am myself. Such transformation ( Umke/tr)
takes place, it is true, wholly in the internal nature, and
belongs, therefore, rather to religion than to art; while never-
theless it is the internality of the soul which, for the most
part, seizes upon this act of conversion, and can also shine
through the external, so that the art of visible representation —
painting — acquires the right to make use in its representa-
tions of such process-of-conversion (BekehrungsgeschicJite).
If, however, it represents completely all the particulars which
Hegel on Romantic Art. 137
lie in such process-of-conversion, then many things which are
ugly may enter along with them, for in this case the criminal
and repulsive must also be set forth ; as, for example, in the
story of the Prodigal Son. Hence the most favorable condi-
tions for painting, in such case, will be to concentrate the con-
version alone upon a single figure (Bilde), without further de-
tails of criminality. Of this class is the Magdalene, which is
to be numbered among the most beautiful objects in this
circle, and which has, especially by Italian masters, been
treated exquisitely and in strict accordance with art. She ap-
pears here both spiritually and physically as the beautiful sin-
ner, in whom sin and repentance are equally attractive. Still,
neither in respect of sin nor of holiness is it then taken
so seriously. To her much was forgiven (yerziehen) , for she
loved much. For her love and her beauty she is forgiven (ist
ihr verziehen) , and the pathetic phase of it consists in this:
that she makes an accusing conscience of her love, and lets
fall tears of anguish in the beauty of a soul full of tender
sensibility. Her error is not that she has loved so much;
but this is, if possible, her more beautiful and more touching*
error : that she should still believe herself to be a sinner ;
since now her highly sensitive beauty only presents the con-
ception that she has become noble and pure in her love.
3. Miracles and Legends. — The last side, which is con-
nected with the two preceding, and which may be esteemed
of importance in both, has reference to the miracle, which, in
general, plays an important role in this entire circle. In this
connection, we can point to the miracle as the process of con-
version of immediate natural existence. Actuality lies open
to view as an ordinary accidental existence ; this finite being-
is in contact with the divine, which, in so far as it immediately
concerns things wholly external and particular, casts them
asunder, transforms them, and makes of them so'mething
wholly different, — interrupts the natural course of things, as
men are accustomed to say. Now, the soul, as amazed by
such unnatural phenomena (in which it thinks to recognize
the presence of the divine) and constrained to represent them
in its finite imagination, constitutes one of the chief elements-
138 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
of many legends. In fact, however, the divine can affect and
govern nature only as reason, as the unchangeable laws of
nature itself which God has implanted therein, and the divine
cannot permit itself to manifest itself immediately in particu-
lar circumstances and events which interrupt natural laws ;
for the eternal laws and properties (Bestimmungeri) of reason
alone pervade nature and operate therein. With respect to
this side, legends frequently proceed without constraint
(^N'otJc) into the abstruse, insipid, senseless, ridiculous, on the
ground that spirit and soul must be moved to faith in the
presence and actuality of God by what is in and for itself the
irrational, false, and undivine. Emotion, piety, conversion
can indeed, then, still be of interest, but it is only the one
side — the internal; so soon as it comes into relation with
other and external objects, and this other comes to effect the
conversion of the heart, then the external cannot be in itself
something absurd and irrational.
These may be considered the chief moments of the sub-
stantial content which, in this circle, is of importance as the
nature of God, and as the process through which and in which
it is spirit. It is the absolute object which art does not create
and reveal from and by itself, but which it has received from
religion ; and, with the consciousness that this is the truth in
and for itself, art now approaches it in order to express and
represent it. It is the content of the believing, longing soul,
which is itself potentially the infinite totality ; so that now
the external remains more or less external and indifferent,
without coming into full harmony with the internal, and hence
frequently develops into an adverse material not thoroughly
within the grasp ot art.
The True and the False in Darwinism. 139
THE TRUE AND THE FALSE IN DARWINISM.
.A CRITICAL REPRESENTATION" OF THE THEORY OF ORGANIC DEVELOPMENT. BY
EDUARD VON HARTMANN. BERLIN, 1875.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY H. I. D'ARCY.
III. The Theory of Heterogeneous Generation, and the Theory
of Transmutation.
[Continued from Journal or Speculative Philosophy for April, 1S7S, and July and
October, 1877.]
This is the case, for instance, with the fresh-water snail,
planorbis multiformis, found near Steinheim (conf. Ph. d. Unb.
8ter. Ausg. p. 594), the form-circle (formenkreis) of which,
shifting between very distant limits, shows uniform systematic
transitions in all directions ; but yet, with the exception of just
those forms, which, like denudatus or trochiformis, might man-
ifest a tendency to the type of a new species or genus, and
which, in accordance with the theory of heterogeneous genera-
tion, make their appearance suddenly; again, as regards the
forms related to each other by transition, at least as great va-
riations are to be found among those of the same period — that
is, those deposited in the same horizontal stratum — as among
the oldest and the most recent stratum, so that the geological
features present, on the whole, the appearance of a species with
complicated extensions forward, backward, and sideward, but
still confined within a definite circle ; they afford no evidence
favorable to the gradual transmutation of one species into
another. 1
Since, then, embryology and paleontology seem rather to
oppose than to favor the theory of transmutation, the latter
sees itself forced to seek its support in the materials drawn
1 Compare Wigand's thorough criticism (No. 14 of the appendix) of Helgen-
dorf's monograph. Wigand's results are completely confirmed by an examination
of paleontological materials by Sandberger, of which he seems to have been igno-
rant (Verhandl. der Physik. med. Ges. zu Wiirzburg, N. F. B. d. V. S. 231).
Sandberger refers in support of his own views to Hyatt of Boston, Leydig, and
Weissman.
140 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
from the present fauna and flora. It would be a very appro-
priate task for a theory of natural science to strengthen its as-
sumption of the descent of all organic bodies by means of
gradual transmutation, since such assumption transcends ex-
perience, from the analogy of some processes, however few, of
transition, experimentally established, of one species into an-
other. Darwinism must, however, admit that it has not yet
been able to fulfill this condition, and that it continually re-
quires us to regard the transition shown by artificial grouping
as a genetic transition. Even in artificial breeding it has not
yet succeeded in procuring a pigeon which, with every ex-
ternal variation, does not retain the decisive specific character-
istics of the pigeon. Now, the more efficient the means at
the command of the breeder, compared to those of nature, the
less favorable would the contrary result of artificial breeding
be as evidence of natural processes in the origin of species ;
therefore, the above-mentioned negative result must present
the transmutation theory in a rather suspicious light. But as
we cannot have recourse to any direct observation of the origin
of a new species, nothing remains but, in order to secure a
ground for wider analogies, to select such varieties as at first
view T seem to lead, through a gradual intensifying of their va-
riations, from the original form to a new species.
Varieties can be divided into three classes : First, those in
which only the color, hair, texture, thickness of the cell walls,
chemical composition, etc., are affected ; these can be affected,
partially at least, during the life of an individual, by a change
of surroundings (local varieties), but are even in those in-
stances, when they seem to appear spontaneously, not at all
calculated to establish systematic differences. Second, mon-
strosities. Third, morphological varieties. (Wigand, p. 48
to 52.) In the case of monstrosities, we should distinguish
those where there is a retrograde metamorphosis from those
where such metamorphosis does not occur. The former, which
are chiefly found among domesticated creatures, display, ac-
cording to rule, a luxuriance of growth at the expense of sex-
ual power, and at the same time a descent to a lower morpho-
logical and physiological level of organization, and should,
The True and the False in Darwinism. 141
therefore, be excluded in our consideration of the ways and
means through which the true ascending development of or-
ganic bodies is affected. We are, therefore, really led to the
monstrosities where there is no retrograde metamorphosis, and
to morphological varieties ; and for our purpose each of these,
in a certain sense, completes the other. The morphological va-
riety presents a perfectly complete type, without any extraor-
dinary characteristic, but just for this reason the degree of
departure from the type of the original form is not so striking
as to warrant the conclusion that the character of the species
has been lost. With the monstrosity, on the other hand, this
loss of specific character is obvious, but only in the direction
of some one particular feature. This feature often deviates
so far from the form-circle of the species that it seems mor-
phologically like the type of a different genus, or even family ;
but it does not lead to a new and complete type, for such would
require a whole series of successive correlative changes.
We can, therefore, for the present take any one of the fol-
lowing views as to the origin of species : That monstrosities
remain, and the other characteristics are acquired by degrees
in the same way ; or that morphological varieties extend fur-
ther in the same direction in which they have deviated from
the parent form ; or that the result of each process is simul-
taneously reached — that is, the typical completeness of the
morphological variety and the sudden variation of the mon-
strosity. Whatever view we take, we still have to deal with
abrupt changes. While all varieties which result, not from the
influence of external circumstances on actual individuals, but
from spontaneous change in generation, emerge at once before
our eyes, the suddenness is peculiarly striking with which
monstrosities, not only in artificial life, but even in nature, —
and, therefore, independently of external influences, arise spon-
taneously, — come into existence complete, and, per solium,
as something entirely new (Wigand, p. 50). Upon this phe-
nomenon Hofmeister based his theory of the origin of a new
species. (Handbuch der iihysiologischen Botanik, 1, 563,
564.) We may, indeed, define monstrosity as a partial hetero-
geneous generation in a different way, but the single steps of
142 The Journal of Speculative Pltilosophy .
the process always remain so long that they are quite incon-
sistent with the transmutation theory, which, in a strict sense,
requires changes so slight as to be inappreciable. Even if a
species might, during a very long period, complete its form-
circle, though moving with inappreciably short steps, still, ex-
perience shows that the really decisive steps which introduce
something morphologically new can be traced within the
species ; and we should have much less reason to doubt that,
in the great majority of cases of transition from one species
to another, such a step over a greater or a less interval is
requisite.
If we bear in mind what has been already said, it is clear
that we shall find ourselves forced, for many reasons, to assume
that the interval between two types connected by descent is
crossed per solium, whether the interval is crossed by a single
leap or the process is regarded as one made up of several
steps. This division of the process may occur in very differ-
ent ways, as the metamorphosis of animals, alternate genera-
tion, dimorphosis, monstrosities, or morphological varieties ;
but always the least change from one variety of the same
form-circle to another in the case of a morphological variety,
which is characterized by an addition to its organs, or by the
increase or diminution of the numerical relation of its parts,
is only conceivable through a germ-metamorphosis, which
introduces the change of type by a morphologically different
arrangement of cells in the embryo.
As far, however, as the transmutation theory is concerned,
the foregoing observations in no way affect its operation, in so
far as this is limited in assisting in the development of spe-
cific types in their shifting form-circles, and in supplying a
broader basis, and lessening the intervals to be crossed by
heterogeneous generation, and so reducing each interval to a
CO 3 O
minimum. On the other hand, it would be very difficult to
prove the assertion that any species has actually originated by
simple transmutation from its direct ancestors. It cannot,
under the circumstances, be denied that it is possible that na-
ture may have in everv case availed itself of heterogeneous
generation. Indeed, if the older school of natural philoso-
The True and the False in Darwinism. 143-
pliers was right in maintaining the constancy of species, it
would be hazardous to assert that species could possibly orig-
inate by mere transmutation. I believe, however, that I must
regard the establishment of the changeable nature of the limits
of species hitherto assumed to be unchangeable, and the proof
that the permanance of species, like that of human character-
istics, has only a relative meaning within certain limits, as one
of Darwin's chief services, and as the one whose value will be
longest recognized. Those interested in Wigand's book must,
therefore, regret that it has made an unsuccessful attack upon
this very position, and thereby exposed a weakness to the fol-
lowers of Darwin which they will scarcely fail to see and
utilize. But as the principle of the transmutation theory ex-
tends beyond the form-circle of the species to the theory of
descent itself, and as this principle stands and falls with the
mutability of species, w r e must look for a moment at this
latter question.
That the conception of species is no more a fiction than any
other abstract conception, but is founded in the nature of in-
dividuals, is freely admitted ; it, however, ascends from the
conceptions of orders, families, etc., and descends from that
of the variety. It is not denied that these collections of com-
mon characteristics are founded on the nature of actual indi-
viduals ; it is only denied that these systematic classifications
have steadfastly fixed limits. When we have classified a par-
ticular domain of the natural system, and arranged it in a suc-
cession of groups, of which each higher one includes a num-
ber of lower ones, it still is for each one of us to decide,
unless opposed by a long-reaching and uniform custom, which
of these groups will receive the name of a species ; and the
extraordinary difference of opinion among natural philosophers
as to the classification of species in most of the domains of
the natural system best shows how difficult it must 'be to as-
certain objective criteria wherewith to connect and reconcile
conventional definitions. 2 Whoever, then, will endeavor to
2 Ernst H'ackel's monograph on "die Kalkschwamme " (Berlin Keinner, 1872),
toI. 1. "Biologic der Kalksw'amme," pp. 474-478, affords a striking example of
144 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
attack this shifting" meaning of the conception of species as
really unfounded, will naturally, in the first place, labor to dis-
cover an absolute criterion for this conception. Wigand
thinks this criterion is best supplied by the phenomena of cross-
ing. He admits that there are different species which produce
fruitful offspring, but he denies that this crossing can produce
fruitful and lasting results ; and he accordingly asserts that
we have in this, at least, a negative mark of species. That is,
if two forms do not cross so that their offspring will be per-
fect and fruitful, this is decisive that such forms belong not
simply to different varieties, but to different species (p. 31),
and Wigand, therefore, defines his test of perfectly fruitful
crossing as " certain and easy impregnation, perfect fruitf ill-
ness, and such a constitution in the first and all succeeding
generations as precludes the possibility of a retrogression to
the ancestral form ' (p. 29, note). Each of these three
conditions is, however, incapable of fulfillment even within
the limits of a single species ; its non-fulfillment, then, can by
no means prove that two forms do not belong to the same
species. If impregnation within the limits of a species were
certain, married women would be always pregnant; if all
offspring were fruitful, none would be unfruitful except those
produced by crossing ; finalty, if all retrogression were
excluded, all the species among which atavism occurs must
be declared to be themselves the products of crossing. The
criterion, therefore, of perfectly fruitful crossing goes far
beyond the mark when it undertakes to establish a relative
this. H'ackel comes to the following i-esult: "The natural system may, for in-
stance, underlie the six following combinations : A, 1 gen. with 1 species ; B, 1
gen. with 3 species; C, 3 gen. with 21 species; D, 21 gen. with 111 species; E, 43
gen. with 181 species; F, 43 gen. with 289 species. On the other hand, the arti-
ficial system admits of the six following groupings : Gr, 1 gen. with 7 species ; H,
2 gen. with 19 species; I, 7 gen. with 39 species; K, 19 gen. with 181 species; L,
39 gen. with 289 species ; M, 113 gen. with 591 species. Each of these twelve
systems could advance plausible claims for itself, as each system-maker renders
them prominent in support of his own principle. None of them, however,
could ever be shown to be the absolutely true system." P. 477. The note on page
478 gives a more accurate account of these systems and of the different principles
adopted in each.
The True and lite False in Darwinism. 145
degree of fruitfulness within the species as an absolute test
(Conf. Ph. d. Unb. 8ter. Ausg. pp. 591-592), and if this crite-
rion is only a relative one, it is a mere question of degree —
that is, it is a question of fixing conventional limits for a
sphere which, from its very nature, cannot be strictly limited.
Another remark made by Wigand, though rather incidentally,
by which he associates species with the highest point in the curve
described by fruitfulness, seems of more importance. The sexual
affinity is greater between two different blossoms of the same
tree than between the pollen and organs of one and the same
blossom (on this account measures have been adopted, in the
case of several plants, to prevent their self-fecundation) ;
greater between two different individuals of the same form
than between two different blossoms of the same tree, and
greater between two varieties, of the same species than between
two similar individuals. But, on the other hand, fruitfulness
rapidly decreases after the limits of species have been passed.
In opposition to this, we must observe, firstly, that the decrease
of fruitfulness with the increase of intermixture, though true
of certain species, is by no means an universal law ; and, sec-
ondly, that the maximum of fruitfulness, the highest point in
the curve, on which Wigand lays so much stress, is frequently
not to be found in the species, but in the variety. In a large
number of plants, impregnated by pollen carried by the wind,
and as well as in some others, self-fecundation may be regarded
as the rule. It must, therefore, suffice for the preservation
of the species ; or, according to Wigand' s unfortunate terminol-
ogy, be perfect. In the case of gregarious animals which
have polygamic habits the intermixture is also perfect, and
does not occasion the disadvantages which always follow in its
train when artificial breeding is resorted to. When varieties
diverge widely from each other, they often manifest a, decided
objection to crossing ; they will at least give the preference to
individuals of their own variety. It is even asserted by many
observers that in some instances varieties are less fruitful when
crossed than, in other instances, species are.
We may, therefore, conclude that, in many instances, the
XIII— 10
146 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
highest point of the curve of fruitfulness does not coincide
with species, but lies within this, upon the variety ; or, per-
haps, within still stricter limits.
We may, however, fairly assert that species is seldom far
from the maximum of fruitfulness ; and this may be a very
important point of view, as a relative criterion for the empiri-
cal decisions as to what species is and what it is not. We
may, perhaps, assume that in such cases, where a clearly de-
fined maximum of the curve exists, this actually corresponds
with the species, provided that the species has left its origi-
nating process behind, and no new process of specific develop-
ment within itself has commenced. If the species has not yet
come to a stand-still — if it is not yet completely established —
there is still a certain tendency to cross with allied species, from
which it is separated by more or less indeterminate boundaries ;
but if, on the other hand, a new process of specific develop-
ment has begun, if its varieties are already so sharply defined
that one might doubt whether he should regard them as spe-
cies, then the maximum of fruitfulness has generally been
transferred to the varieties.
The circumstance that, as well as the developed species, we
also find undeveloped and over-developed species which still
remind us of varieties ; such as include within themselves va-
rieties which resemble species, speaks most distinctly for the
mutability of actual species, even for the proposition that the
conception of species in the sense of the developed, and not
yet over-developed, species coincides with the highest point
of the curve of fruitfulness.
Whether, however, such a point exists, and how Ave, where
direct observation of fruitfulness is impossible, should apply
this criterion in the determination of species, remains now, as
before, undetermined.
Against the evidence adduced in favor of the mutability of
species, a reference to the constancy of species during the pe-
riod over which our experience extends is, of course, of no
avail — at least, if it depends exclusively upon perfectly devel-
oped species. The fact that this or that species has remained con-
The True and the False in Darwinism. 147
stant since the building of the Egyptian pyramids cannot prove
that now certain divergent varieties are not about to acquire the
character of species, or that certain undeveloped and shifting
species are not tending to develop and establish themselves.
The time within which attention has been directed to these pro-
cesses is really too short to expect conclusive results from
them. We are inclined to conclude as to the course of the de-
velopment process, from the few different phases of it which lie
before us, just as we conclude from the gaseous, glowing
cloud-streaks, the burning liquid suns, and the solid moons,
as to the whole cosmic development of these bodies.
Wigand says (p. 30) : " Therefore the absence of transi-
tion is by no means a decisive criterion of species, since there
are varieties in which no transitions occur ; if, however, a
transition is shown from one of two given forms to the other,
this is conclusive proof that these are not different species.
The constancy of form during reproduction, and under all cir-
cumstances, is not an unerring sign of species, because varie-
ties manifest, in a measure, a similar constancy ; but a form
which, under a certain change of circumstances, or in the course
of time, changes into another form, or is demonstrably ijen-
erated from another form, is not specifically different from this
other form." These positive criteria as to what forms are not
to be regarded as distinct species do not, after what has been
before said, require further refutation. Varieties which already
appear constant should be regarded as inchoate species, and
if it were to happen in the course of time that we should
observe the growth of new species in this way, it would be
entirely erroneous, in reliance upon the prejudice in favor of
the constancy of species, to deny these the character of species,
instead of recognizing the thus established mutability of species
in the development of organic types. For the moment, the
only object is to establish transitional forms, although, of
course, these cannot be found between those species which have
originated from varieties between which, as varieties, transi-
tional forms did not exist. But even if transitions should be
discovered between two forms which hitherto had been regarded
as species, it would be premature to cry out, " then there are
148 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
no species ;" such an instance, and their number is constantly
increasing, would rather suggest a new reason to approach the
correction of the old notions as to the constancy and absolute
independence of species. Wigand himself shows the worth-
lessness of this test (p. 18), and even maintains that " the
form-circle of one species may touch that of another," by
which the much dreaded transition is established.
The theory of the mutability of species, while being devel-
oped, is supported by the fact that we cannot find among the
oldest fauna and flora representatives corresponding to the
species which exist to-day, while we can hud such representa-
tives of the genera (Gattungen), families, and orders; that,
moreover, the paleontological representatives of the present
forms are decidedly less different from each other than are the
latter ; that, for instance, the representatives of families at an
early geological period are only distinguished from each other
as genera, and at a still earlier period as species. Even when
we look at different divisions of the animal kingdom, — for in-
stance, at the fishes and the amphibious animals, — we arrive,
by going backwards, at a time when the average difference
between them becomes continuously less. Wigand disputes this
fact also ; and, although he cannot fairly deny the decrease of
difference as we go backwards, yet asserts that the different
systematic characteristics are distinguished from each other,
not only in degree, but in kind ; so that, tor example, two spe-
cies could never come from two genera. But, unfortunately,
Wigand is not in a position to state wherein lies the exact
difference between the idea of species and that of genus ; and
as he cannot do this, we must retain the assumption that these
ideas are distinguished only by the degree of difference, which
degree is clearly sufficient for a continuous development.
According to Wigand' s own opinion, there is nowhere in the
natural system so complete a difference as between the variety
and the species ; if, then, we have recognized this as one of
degree, the same must certainly hold good of all other differ-
ences. If the idea of species lies in close proximity to the
highest point in the curve of fruitfulness, this shows nothing-
more than that a certain combination of agreement and differ-
The True and the False in Darwinism. 149
ence is most favorable to reproduction ; if the point of dif-
ference advances, then the most favorable relation between
agreement and difference must be sought at a point further
back, — that is, the process of differentiation at this forward
point, developed differences which require for their characteri-
zation a higher svstematic mark than that of species.
It follows, therefore, that the proposed test of species — the
maximium of fruitfulness — does not at all afford such a crite-
rion for the difference between species and genus as would pre-
vent the progress from one to the other in the advancing
process of differentiation. Only thus much is true in Wigand's
argument against the mutability of species that every species
is not capable of change, but only such as in its morphological
divergence from a genealogical ancestor, carries within it the
tendency to further morphological development ; and the
broader the types which further development of the species
introduces, the more essential is the fulfilment of this condi-
tion. The more striking the new morphological element
exhibited by such a species in its organic development, the
higher the degree in which it is qualified to serve as the first
parent of a new order or class, the more certainly necessary
is an act of heterogeneous generation, and the more powerless
must mere transmutation appear.
What we have thus gained for the transmutation theory by
the recognition of the mutability of species is nothing more
than that we have given to it what had been completely taken
away by the doctrine of the constancy of species, — that is, the
possibility of explaining the transition from one species to
another, when these do not manifest such great morphological
differences that a retrograde form-metamorphosis becomes
necessary. We have by no means, however, received for the
transmutation theory more than the mere possibility of such
explanation, and this possibility can only become a probability
in actual cases when the probability is established that the
regular series of intermediate forms between undoubted spe-
cies is a oenealooical series : the certaintA r of this could only
be shown by observation of a process of transmutation occur-
ring before our eyes. It will be seen that the transmutation
150 The Journal of Speculative Pldlosojjhy .
theory stands on very weak supports, whether the mutability
of species be admitted or not ; while everything advanced above
against its correctness, and in favor of the theory of heteroge-
neous generation, remains entirely unaffected by the question
of the constancy or mutability of species. The result, then,
of this chapter is, that even if future discoveries and observa-
tions should give a larger sphere to the operation of transmu-
tation than it can claim in the present condition of our knowl-
edge, yet the construction of the very foundation of the natural
system will devolve upon heterogeneous generation, and the
function of transmutation will be rather to clothe the skeleton
with flesh and skin, to aid the evolution of variety in the domain
of organic forms, and at the same time to prepare the way
for further heterogeneous generation. Both are simply means
by which the inherent law of development manifests its opera-
tion, and both mutually support and supplement each other.
It is entirely erroneous to suppose that the one theory excludes
the other ; the only question is as to the relative extent of
their influence and the limits of their operation. If, however,
it were necessary that one of them should be excluded, then
the construction of the organic world, by means of heteroge-
neous generation without transmutation, would seem to be at
least quite possible, and the construction of it by means of
gradual transmutation without heterogeneous generation would
appear to be utterly impossible. The disputed point is, how-
ever, that Darwinism maintains that this impossibility is the
truth, while the advocates of heterogeneous generation, on the
other hand, by no means assume so hostile a position as to the
cooperation of transmutation, but rather concede to it a more
or less extensive influence. We must, therefore, conclude that
the non-Darwinian advocates of the theory of descent are at
least much nearer the truth than is Darwinism, in its exclusive-
ness as regards heterogeneous generation.
The World as Force. 151
THE WORLD AS FORCE.
[WITH ESPECIAL REFERENCE TO THE PHILOSOPHY OP MR. HERBERT SPENCER.]
BY JOHN WATSON.
II. Indestructibility of Matter.
In a former article 1 an attempt was made to show the im-
perfection of that conception of existence, so alluring to minds
whose energies have gone mainly in the line of scientific
enquiry, which ranks Intelligence among the special forces
, of nature, and refuses to it any claim to an exceptional posi-
tion. It was there contended that the reduction of Intelli-
gence to Force rests upon an uncritical separation of the two
correlatives, Nature and Reason, which is degrading to both
alike ; leading, on the one hand, to the destruction of reality,
and on the other, to the dissolution of knowledge. In illus-
tration and proof of this position, an examination of Mr. Spen-
cer's remarks upon Space, Time, Matter, Motion, and Force
was entered upon ; the upshot of which was that, starting from
that Dualism which may be said to be one aspect of common-
sense knowledge, and assuming a ready-made and variously
qualified world to begin with, Mr. Spencer plausibly evacuates
Nature of rational elements, but only because those elements
are covertly assumed, while openly they are unrecognized or
denied. Intelligence, it was maintained, is not reducible to
Force, any more than it is convertible with Matter : it is as
little definable in terms of Motion as in terms of Time or of
Space. To make Reason dependent upon that which it alone
makes possible, upon that which apart from Reason is a blank,
unthinkable abstraction, is to display a philosophical perver-
sity, or a confusion of thought, that could not well be ex-
ceeded. The evil result of this inverted conception of reality
was pointed out in the reversal of the true order of dependence
in the special conceptions treated of — Force being put first,
v
Jour. Spec. Phil., April, 1878, p. 113, ff.
152 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
instead of last — and in the self-contradictory assumption that
> individual sensations or feelings, which ex hypothesi are free
of relation, are convertible with the relations admittedly
essential to the constitution of the real world of nature. In
contrast to this, it was held that Nature is not the antithesis
of Intelligence, but simply Intelligence in its lower stages ;
and that Space, Time, Matter, Motion, and Force, as each in
turn is a higher synthesis of universal and particular, thought
and existence, mark a gradual ascent at once in Nature and
in Intelligence, so that Force, as the last stage reached, is the
apex of Nature, the most perfect unity in diversity of that
which we distinguish logically as the material world.
In the criticism of Mr. Spencer's view of Nature, and the
presentation of the speculative view, it was incidentally
pointed out that the problem of philosophy is not, How does
the individual man, by his particular sensations, gradually
appropriate objects that lie beyond the range of conscious-
/* ness? but, How does Intelligence manifest itself in Nature,
and by successive stages mount up to a higher plane? The
former question admits of no answer ; because, in assuming
that the particular alone may reveal that which is real, it vir-
tually denies knowledge and overthrows reality. To the
empirical psychologist this must seem a foolish, as well as a
" hard " saying, only to be explained as one of the wild and
incoherent utterances of an Idealism intoxicated with abstrac-
tions. It will naturally be replied that Intelligence, as we
know it, is always a possession of individual men, and that
any universal Intelligence, other than the sum of individual
Intelligences, can only be a fiction of the over-speculative
imagination. The only way in which a knowledge of reality
can be obtained at all, it will be said, is through the senses of
individual men, and any method which pretends to do more
than manipulate the materials supplied by sense must produce
sham, and not real, knowledge.
Adequately to discuss the problem here raised would require
an extended enquiry into the mutual relations of Metaphysics
and Psychology, and such an enquiry cannot be attempted
here; but, to prevent misapprehension, as well as to indicate
The World as Force. 153
the general direction in which the answer lies, a single remark
may be made. The assertion that there is a purely individual-
intelligence, if by that be meant an intelligence existing in
isolation from a real world, and from other intelligences, is a
self-contradictory proposition. An intelligence so shut up
within itself could never have any knowledge of nature, or of
other intelligences, or even of itself. Consciousness involves *
an object to be known not less than a self to know it ; but an
intelligence of the kind imagined could have no object what-
ever before it, and therefore could have no knowledge. To
be conscious of any real object of nature, it would have to go
out beyond the limits of its self-isolation and give up its in-
dividuality. To be conscious of other intelligences, it must
perform the astounding double feat of going out of itself and
of dragging from their enclosure a number of other self-in-
volved individuals. Nor could an individual intelligence be
conscious even of its own sensations, for such a knowledge
implies the distinction of one real sensation from another, and
of both more or less explicitly from itself, i. e., the partial con-
struction of a real world. A purely individual intelligence —
an intelligence exclusive of universality — is a fiction of the
abstracting intellect. We do, indeed, for sufficient reasons,
distinguish one individual man from another; but, just as it is
absurd to say that one individual may exist alone, and consti-
tute a universe by himself, so it is impossible for an individual
intelligence to exist that is not universal. Consciousness, at
least, certifies to the reality of its own objects as such, for
otherwise it could not even establish itself; and, hence to
speak of a merely individual consciousness, of an intelligence
existing purely for itself, is but to proclaim, and so to deny, a
universal skepticism. We may, therefore, safely conclude
that, whatever psychology may have to tell us of the intelli-
gence of individuals, it can never prove the individuality of
intelligence ; it cannot overthrow the essential conditions of
all knowledge without at the same time overthrowing itself.
From unrelated sensations, from feelings that are not univer-
salized, no reality and no knowledge of reality can be evolved ;
the very beginning of intelligent experience involves the re-
154 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
flection of particular sensations upon each other and into a
universal self, and hence that stage of knowledge we call sensa-
tion is really a mode of thought, differing only in degree from
thought in its higher and more complex forms. By the differ-
entiation of feelings that are thought — i.e., of real relations
from each other and from the thinking self — the known uni-
verse gradually grows up, broadening in complexity and
cohering into closer unity. Analysis and synthesis, nature
and thought, are but different aspects of a single process.
By Matter, in all of its significations — and it has many — is
meant the totality of substances, or the unity underlying all
substances. As a Substance is a combination of properties, so
Matter is a combination of Substances. It is indispensable,
in estimating the relation which the doctrine of the Inde-
structibility of Matter bears to the wider doctrine of the corre-
lation of forces, that we should have a perfectly clear con-
sciousness of what we really mean when we affirm Matter to
be indestructible, and hence it seems advisable to clear the
way by setting forth the various correlative meanings of the
terms, Substance and Matter.
There are at least four distinct senses in which writers of
the school of Spencer speak of Substance and of Matter.
The first corresponds to the conception held by common
sense, the second and third are characteristic of the special
sciences, and the last is peculiar to Spencerian Metaphysics.
When the " plain" man speaks of a Substance or Thing, he
means by it something known to him by its sensible prop-
erties. Each thing is, he would say, directly perceived, and
it can at any time be recognized by its characteristic marks.
A substance thus includes the notion of persistence through
successive times, or Identity, and this Identity is assumed
to be independent of mere temporal succession. Moreover,
a substance need not be unchangeable in all of its proper-
ties ; so long as those which characterize or define it, those
essential to it, remain, the identity of the substance is taken
for granted. At the same time, as each Thing is known
and recognized by properties directly, or apparently directly,
presenting themselves, the maximum of change that a
The World as Force. 155
substance may undergo without losing its identity is rela-
tively small. Among the changes regarded as unessen-
tial, change in place is prominent; a Substance, provided it
retain its color, weight, etc., is not supposed to lose its
identity by transference to another place. A Substance is
thus indifferent, not only to succession in Time, but to
motion in Space. We may say, therefore, that, in ordinary
knowledge and in popular language, a substance is that
which is known and recognized as identical by its essential
properties ; or that which remains identical with itself, not-
withstanding a change in unessential properties. The com-
mon conception of Matter corresponds to the common no-
tion of Substance. Ordinarily, we are not accustomed to
think or speak of Matter, but only of Substances. Still
there are times when we vaguely think of all substances as
together making up one world of nature. The bond unit-
ing the infinity of individual Substances is Space and Time,
which, before, we had rejected as unessential. The concep-
tion of Substance and the conception of Matter cohere, in
so far as each Substance, notwithstanding its individuality,
is regarded as a part of Matter ; but common sense does
not ask how matter can be a unity, while yet it is differen-
tiated in an infinity of distinct Substances. It is enough for
it that all Substances are in one Space and one Time.
The first of the scientific conceptions of Substance and
of Matter is the product of an extension and partial recti-
fication of the popular conception. By the chemist or phy-
sicist the name Substance is applied to "the solids, liquids,
vapors and gases, the ponderable, visible, and resistant
objects of sense." 2 This notion of Substance differs only
in degreee from that of common sense. The weakness of
the latter is that things are distinguished from each other
only by their most obvious properties, while their deeper
2 G. H. Lewes, Problems of Life and Mind, vol. 2, p. 204, Am. ed. I cannot
help saying here that, in this work, Mr. Lewes seems to me to come nearer to
the speculative point of view than any other member of the empirical school I
know of. His remarks on Matter, Force, and Cause (p. 203, if.) are exceedingly
fresh and suggestive.
156 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
relations are overlooked. Science fixes upon more permanent
> attributes, and hence its comprehension of that which con-
stitutes the identit}^ of a Substance is more accurate and more
profound. The difference, then, lies in the more exact differ-
entiation of Substances from each other, and in the fewer
number of properties conceived to form the essence of a
substance. The properties by common sense regarded as
essential are looked upon as unessential, only the more per-
manent properties hidden from common sense being regarded
as essential. Besides the compatibility of change of place
and succession of time with the essential identity of a sub-
stance, science adds that a change in the prominent sensible
properties does not in any way affect that identity. A
substance, in short, is that which retains its identity, not-
withstanding change in place and succession in time, because
it remains unchanged in its chemical, electrical, or physical
properties. Matter will, therefore, be the assemblage of such
substances. Here, again, no attempt is made to explain how
Matter can be a unity, and yet differentiate itself in an in-
finite variety of clearly defined substances. There is a ten-
dency, however, to regard the common characteristics of all
substances — extension, mobility, weight, etc. — as constitut-
ing the essence of Matter. This tendency leads to the second
scientific conception of Substance and of Matter.
This third conception is of most importance for our imme-
diate purpose. The identity of a substance is now held to lie
""in the permanence of its mass as a whole, or of the units of
mass by which it is constituted. Thus, by a stroke, a whole
group of properties is struck out of the list of essential attri-
butes. A substance, it is held, may change in its chemical,
electrical, or physical properties, but it cannot alter in the par-
ticles which compose it. Its mass as a Avhole may change its
place, or its molecules or atoms may alter their position rela-
tively to each other, but the sum of the units of mass, meas-
urable by the amount of resistance they offer, or by their
gravity, is a constant quantity. Here we have a most impor-
tant alteration in the notion of Substance. According to com-
mon sense, a Substance to be the same, must retain unchanged
The World as Force. 157
those sensible properties designated by its name ; science in
its first mind demands the permanence of chemical, electrical,
or physical properties ; science in its second mind is contented
with the mere nnchangeability of the quantity of a substance.'
All three imply the union of identity and change, but by suc-
cessive differentiation the essential attributes are finally reduced
to quantity of mass, or solidity. One individual substance is
distinguished from another simply by the greater or less num-
ber of its units, and by the relation of those units to each
other in place, or of the units as a whole to another group of
units. Hence Matter, as the totality of individual sub-
stances, is definable as an assemblage of units of mass. Since
each unit is in space, and is capable of motion, matter, while
it is regarded as differentiated in these units, is yet conceived
as indifferent to position and to motion. And, as between all
existing masses relatively to each other, and between the units
composing any given substance, there is exactly the same
relation of whole and part, while the elements are the same
in both, we easily pass from substances to the one substance,
which is matter. The essence of matter is therefore, from
this point of view, equivalent to its quantity, or the number of
its indivisible units of mass ; all properties except that of
solidity are set aside as unessential. It is matter in this sense
alone that is said to be " indestructible." Change, or posi-
tion in space, succession in time, alteration in physical, chemi-
cal, or electrical properties, do not affect the essence of matter,
because these changes still leave unaffected the number of
units of mass which together make up matter as a whole.
The definitions of Substance and of Matter, so far, are based
upon actual knowledge of the real relations of things, and
imply a distinction between essential and unessential attrib-
utes. The fourth conception, on the other hand, expressly de-
nies any knowledge of existence as it actually is, and the
opposition of essential and unessential, the unity of identity
and difference, vanishes in the affirmation of the Indistinguish-
able. Substance is the indeterminate, unknowable Sub-
stratum underlying the known properties of things. The
identity of Substance is not due to the permanence of certain
.
158 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
definable attributes in the flux of other attributes, but in the
absolute unchangeableness of Substance itself; that which has
no attributes can suffer no change. Hence the definition of
Substance coalesces with the definition of Matter in itself,
since both alike are definable as that which has no knowable
attributes ; every Substance is a pure changeless identity, and
therefore none is distinguishable from the rest. Here we
reach the extreme limit of abstraction ; the conception of
Matter cannot be further attenuated, and perforce we must be
contented with the purified residuum we have at last obtained.
The mere fact that Matter has such a variety of significa-
tions is of itself a sufficient reason for carefully marking off"
each from the rest. The tendency to pass unconsciously from
the one to the other must lead, unless great care be taken, to
a confusion of thought disastrous in its results. But there is
a special reason, in the present instance, for exactly distinguish-
ing the one from the other. As will be made good in the
sequel, the whole reasoning by which Consciousness is plaus-
ibly explained by the conception of Force, and only allowed a
rank coordinate with special Forces of nature, rests upon the
tacit assumption that what is true of Matter, defined as an
assemblage of units of mass, is true of Matter in its other
definitions also. Because, in one signification of the term, it
is correct to say that Matter is a collection of atoms, it is taken
for granted that the conception of Force, which is a synthesis
of Matter and of Motion, is adequate, not only to the defini-
tion of Matter as displaying chemical, electrical, and physical
properties, but to Existence in all its modes, including Life
and Consciousness. We have seen, by a bare enumeration of
the different meanings assignable to the term, that Matter
connotes only those properties for the time regarded as essen-
tial, and that the reality of those properties which, from a
special point of view, are looked upon as unessential, is quietly
ignored, if it is not positively denied. There is thus a real
danger that the relative distinction of essential and unessen-
tial should be regarded as an absolute distinction, with the
result that all properties rejected for the time being as unes-
sential should be thrown awav altogether as so much waste of
The World as Force. 159
nature. That this prevision of danger is not imaginary
becomes manifest when we find the conception of Force, em-
ployed as a rubric, applicable to all modes of existence.
An examination of Mr. Spencer's chapter on the Indestructi-
bility of Matter 3 at once shows that the term Matter is em-
ployed by him in all of the four senses distinguished above,
and that the first three are made use of without any notice
being taken of the transition from the one to the other. The
doctrine of the indestructibility of Matter does not tell us any-
thing whatever in regard to the permanence or fugitiveness,
the ultimate reality or unreality, of physical, chemical, or vital
relations ; it tells us only that the total number of the units
of mass that together constitute Matter is a constant quantity.
That this is the real force of the doctrine no one, we think, is
likely to dispute, but very many are sure to forget. This in-
destructibility of Matter, Mr. Spencer begins by saying, " so
far from being admitted as a self-evident truth, would, in
primitive times, have been rejected as a self-evident error.
There was once universally current a notion that things
could vanish into absolute nothing, or arise out of absolute
nothing." This illusion has, however, been gradually dis-
pelled by wider knowledge. "The comet that is all at once
discovered in the heavens, and nightly waxes larger, is proved
not to be a newly-created body, but a body that was until
lately beyond the range of vision. * * * Conversely, the
seeming annihilations of Matter turn out, on closer observa-
tion, to be only changes of state. It is found, e. g., that the
evaporated water, though it has become invisible, may be
brought by condensation to its original shape." 4
Here Mr. Spencer uses the term "Matter" in two distinct
senses — that of common sense, and that of science in its first
mind. To say that the primitive man denied the doctrine of
the indestructibility of Matter is true or false, aecordino; to
the meaning we give to the term. If by Matter we mean
that which is definable as a totality of units of mass, the
3 First Principles, Part II., ch. 4.
4 First Principles, sec. 52, pp. 172, 173.
160 The Journal of /Speculative Philosophy .
primitive man did not deny the indestructibility of matter
simply because he never thought of matter in that sense at
all. If, on the other hand, we are to understand by Matter
individual substances determined by the prominent prop-
erties which they manifest to the unrenective consciousness,
then undoubtedly the indestructibility of Matter was denied.
But, it must be added, that it was correctly denied. Neither
Mr. Spencer nor any one else would maintain that the comet,
as a visible object, begins to be for the observer before it is
observed, and it was only of things as observed that the
primitive man made any affirmation. The indestructibility of
Matter, in short, does not mean the absolute permanence of
sensible properties, but only the absolute permanence of Mat-
ter as a whole, of Matter as composed of indivisible units of
mass. There is, therefore, no incompatibility in the denial of
the permanence of sensible objects, and the affirmation of the
permanence of the total quantity of Matter. That Mr. Spen-
cer supposes the two propositions to be contradictory, surely
argues the absence of a clear consciousness on his part of the
distinction between two quite different conceptions of Matter.
And, surely, there is further confusion in the first proof given
of the indestructibility of Matter. That " the evaporated
water, though it has become invisible, may be brought by con-
densation to its original shape," proves that change in the
sensible properties of things does not necessarily imply change
in the essential properties ; but it does not prove what it ought
to prove, viz., that the quantity of Matter always remains the
same. Here, therefore, we have Matter employed, first, as
that which has certain prominent, sensible properties ; and,
secondly, as that which has certain physical, chemical, or elec-
trical properties ; and neither of these is distinguished from
the third conception of Matter, as that which is made up of
a definite number of indivisible atoms.
Mr. Spencer's next step, however, shows that only in this
last sense can we properly speak of the indestructibility of
Matter. "Not till the rise of quantitative chemistry," he
says, " could the conclusion suggested by such experiences
be reduced to a certainty. When, having ascertained, not only
The World as Force. 161
the combinations into which various substances enter, but also
the proportions in which they combine, chemists were enabled to
account for the matter that had made its appearance or become
invisible, the proof was rendered complete. When, in place
of the candle that had slowly burnt away, it was shown that
certain calculable quantities of carbonic acid and water had
resulted — when it was demonstrated that the joint weight of
the carbonic acid and water thus produced, was equal to the
weight of the candle, plus that of the oxygen uniting with its
constituents during combustion — it was put beyond doubt
that the carbon and hydrogen forming the candle were still in
existence, and had simply changed their state." Here we have
exemplified the transition from the common conception of Mat-
ter, through the first scientific conception of it, to the final defi-
nition of it as a combination of units of mass. When Mr.
Spencer speaks of the " candle that has slowly burnt away,"
he is speaking of Matter simply as the totality of sensible sub-
stances — of Matter as understood by common sense. So long
as a substance retains the properties by which it is known and
identified, it may change, but its substantiality remains undis-
turbed ; when the properties assumed to be essential to it,
and fixed in a name, are no longer present, the identity of the
substance is denied. Secondly, by the identity of Matter, Mr.
Spencer means the permanence of the chemical and other
properties that, together, define the essence of substances. The
candle "burns slowly away," — i. e., the sensible properties
disappear, but " certain calculable quantities of carbonic acid
and water have resulted," i. e., the properties by the scientific
chemist known to be essential have not disappeared, but are
permanent. The constituent elements of the substance no
longer occupy the same relative position as regards each other ;
but, while separated, they still exist, ready to recombine, the
moment the old conditions are restored. Here, again, what
we have is not the indestructibility of Matter as it must be
conceived by the correlationist, but the permanence of the-
elementary constituents of substances as defined by their
chemical attributes. And hence we find Mr. Spencer coming,
at last, to the third conception of matter. The "joint weight
XIII — 11
162 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
of the carbonic acid and water," produced by the burnino-
away of the candle, is " equal to the weight of the candle, plus
that of the oxygen uniting with its constituents during com-
bustion." Even here we have not a perfectly clear presenta-
tion of the conception of Mutter, in the sense in which alone
we can speak of the indestructibility of matter, for weight
properly comes under the notion of Force, not under that
of Matter. The reason of this want of detiniteness, of
course, is, as we shall afterwards see at more length, that the
extremity of abstraction, condensed in the term Matter, has
to be corrected by the reintrodnction of elements presup-
posed in that abstraction, and hence it has to be admitted, as
is virtually done here, that the atomic conception of real exist-
ence is only a partial expression of the truth. Still it is
evident, on consideration, that what alone is conceived as
absolutely permanent is the quantity of the constituents, i. e.,
the number of units of mass, as measured by their joint weight.
Hei-e, therefore, we come to that final definition of Matter
which is alone really established by the doctrine of its inde-
structibility. No sensible property, no chemical or physical
property, of substances is permanent ; nature undergoes per-
petual metamorphoses, but all through the infinite variety of
its changes, the unitary masses of matter are unchanged and
unchangeable. This is the basis of the atomic theory. Ab-
stracting from all other differences of the real world, and
fixing exclusively upon the attribute of solidity, we may affirm,
provided we are allowed to endow the different sorts of atoms
with different weights, that the mass of every body, and of
every constituent element of a body, never either increases or
diminishes. There may be change in the relative positions of
masses, or of the molecules or atoms composing masses, but
none in the quantity of the masses, because none in the indi-
vidual atoms. From which it directly follows that the total
number of units of mass must be eternally the same — in other
words, that matter is unchangeable in its total quantity. It
is evident, from this, that the doctrine of the indestructibility
of matter is based upon a partial or abstract consideration
of the real world, and that any theory which treats this
The World as Force. 163
abstraction as if it were synonymous with concrete existence,
must end in a distorted conception of the more complex ele-
ments of existence. It is this process of abstraction which,
unaware of its own character, gives rise to the supposition
that Intelligence is definable as a special Force among other
coordinate Forces. By tracing the successive stages of its
growth we may, perhaps, help to dispel the illusion that the
unity and permanence of the intelligible world is adequately
formulated in the doctrine of the indestructibility of matter
and the persistence of force.
The very beginning of the intelligent comprehension of
reality cannot be regarded as analysis alone, nor synthesis
alone, but as one indivisible act comprehending both within
itself. The initiary limit of knowledge may be formulated
either in the judgment, "This is real," or in the identical
judgment, "I know this as real." But this judgment, it
must be observed, is partly an abstraction that does not
adequately express all that is implied in the very simplest
knowledge of that which is real. For "This" is perfectly
indeterminate, whereas every real conception is determinate.
Correctly to formulate the beginning of real knowledge, we
must throw our judgment into the shape, " This is not That,"
or, from the side of the subject, " I know This as distin-
guished from That." The first reality known, or the primary^
act of knowledge, is therefore concrete. The beginning of
intelligent experience is only expressible in the form of a
syllogism, not in the form of a conception, or even of a judg-
ment. The analytical aspect of this real act is the affirmation
of one property or relation as real ; its synthetical aspect is
the comprehension of both properties or relations as only real
in their community with each other. On the side of in-
telligence, the analysis is the reference of one property,
thought as the negative of another, and therefore itself as
positive, to a universal self; the synthesis is the twofold ref-
erence of both to the same indivisible self. Hence the fallacy
of the ordinary theorv of abstraction ; hence the elaborate
trifling of common Logic, which runs out into a bewildering
maze of subtleties, and perversely represents Thinking as the
164 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
very superfluous process of converting reality into fiction.
Real objects, it is supposed, are first constituted of various
properties, revealed by the immediate presentations of Sense ;
and then Thought, of its own arbitrary choice, selects one
out of the number, and sets it apart for special contempla-
tion. Now, such an imaginary process of Abstraction is
supposed to be possible only because a complex act, having
the double aspect of analysis and synthesis, has gone before
and supplied a concrete reality to operate upon. We may
easily see what gives countenance to this false explanation of
the process of thought. There is a sense in which it may be
said that knowledge is based upon abstraction or analysis.
The comprehension of one property in pure isolation is a feat
that can be performed by no conceivable intelligence, since
every property is itself only in relation to another property ;
but in the advance of knowledge, by successive differentiation,
it naturally conies about that a greater degree of interest
attaches to one term of a relation than to another. Hence
one property, or one set of properties, is looked upon as
positive, in contrast to the other or others, which are regarded
as negative. The distinction is itself a purely arbitrary one,
for the term from one point of view called positive may from
another point of view be termed negative. But this predomi-
nant interest in one term of a relation, while it does not con-
vert the isolated term into an independent reality, yet prepares
the way for the illusion that it does so. And hence, at a later
stage of thought, the positive properties — the properties in
which an excess of interest is felt — are classed tos;ether as the
essence, or definition of a thing, while the negative properties
are vaguely passed over as unessential. But essential and
unessential, like positive and negative, are purely relative
distinctions ; what from interest is now conceived as essential,
is again rejected as unessential. It must, therefore, never be
forgotten that, when we speak of the essence of a thing, we
do not thereby limit reality for all time to the special group
of properties we have in view for the time being. When
Matter is said to be defined by the property of solidity, its
essence, it is a tremendous perversion of the truth to suppose
The World as Force. 165
that by such a limitation we have, as by a magical incantation,
caused all the other relations of the universe to disappear.
Those properties classed as essential, fixed in a definition, and
marked by a common name, are real ; but they are not all
that is real. The conception of Matter as a congeries of indi-
visible units of mass is not intrinsically truer or more valuable
than the conception of Matter as defined in the totality of
Chemical relations. Intrinsically, the one is as important as
the other ; relatively, the one or the other is more important,
according to the special point of view ; absolutely, i. e., asa
formulation of existence in its completeness, the more com--
plex conception is the more important of the two. The term
Matter, like all other common names, is simply a short-hand
method of designating one aspect of real existence ; it is no
mystic spell to conjure all other relations into nonentity. The
only sense, then, in which it can be said that knowledge is
gained by an analytical process is that in which the mind's
interest in a special set of properties overrides its interest in
another set ; so that the negative term of the relation is passed
over as unessential, and only the positive term is attended to.
In reality, as has been shown, analysis is not a single process,
but only one aspect of a single process; just because one
property is only an element in reality, and, therefore, in itself
an abstraction, every real act of knowledge is synthetic not
less than analytic.
The reality of a property depends upon its negative relation
to another property. To this we must add that the relation
of the two terms is real solely because of their relation to
the Intelligence manifesting itself in them. The judgment,
"This is not That," may be more fitly thrown into the for-
mula, "This is known not to be That." It is a stubborn illu-
sion, shared alike by the man of common sense and by the
purely scientific man, that, besides the properties of relations
by which things are constituted, there is a third " something,"
separable from the thinking self, and constituting the only
real existence. Our analysis, however, of the initial act of
knowledge makes it evident that this " something" is simply
the abstraction of relation-to-intelligence. Kemove the rela-
166 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
tion to intelligence, with its double aspect of positive and
negative, essential and unessential, and nothing whatever re-
mains. The relation is real, and the thinking self is real, but
there is no " something" over and above this unity of uni-
versal and particular. And the real relation thus constituted
by intelligence is not a merely particular judgment ; in the
reality of the relation is involved its absoluteness or univer-
sality ; and this we may express in the judgment, " This par-
ticular relation is universal. ' A relation because it is real is
universal, and it is universal because it is thought. No doubt it
may be afterwards discovered that, from a higher point of
view, the relation at first regarded as absolutely permanent is
not in itself permanent, but has to be carried up into a wider
universal ; but this does not destroy its reality, and therefore
does not affect its universality. The subsequent advances in
knowledge, as repetitions of the primary act of knowledge,
involve a process of combined analysis and synthesis, and
thus existence increases in complexity, while intelligence never
loses its unity. We may, therefore, say that knowledge pro-
ceeds from the less to the more concrete, the more to the less
abstract, the less to the more known. Hence common
knowledge is more abstract, or less concrete, than scientific
knowledge. Here, again, it is important to notice that, from
the mind's predominant interest in some terms over others,
certain properties are classed as essential, others as unessen-
tial. " Thus, existence gets separated into groups of positive
attributes, while the other attributes are vaguely merged in
the general conception of negation. From this point of view
common knowledge may be said to be analytic, not because
analysis is possible apart from synthesis, but because the mind's
interest in the positive attributes gives them a fictitious excess
of reality for the time. $Thus, the way is made easy for that
formulation of common sense which, overlooking the nega-
tive movement involved in the process of knowledge, con-
ceives existence as made up of a number of individual things
or substances having purely positive attributes. Hence, a
double illusion : the illusion that the substance itself is real,
apart from its relations to other substances, and that it is real
The World as Force. 167
out of relation to intelligence. Just as the negative factor
implied in every form of reality is passed over as if it were
not, because of the almost exclusive interest taken for the
time being in the affirmative factor, so the still less manifest
relation of the properties to intelligence is overlooked or mis-
interpreted. Accordingly, we find the empiricist, who formu-
lates the common-sense conception of reality, speaking in lan-
guage which implies the threefold fiction of "something' 1
apart from its properties, of positive attributes in isolation
from negative, and of a concrete reality independent of intelli-
gence. Recognizing the analytic or affirmative side of knowl-
© O © J
edge, and passing over the synthetic or negative side, he is
led to separate real existence from that which is the necessary
condition of its reality. The same imperfect comprehension
of the elements of knowledge and of reality which leads him
to raise the positive or relatively essential properties to the
" bad eminence " of independent sovereignty also suggest to
him to separate Matter, as defined by one set of properties,
from Intelligence, as defined by another set, and to claim for
each a reality of its own. He passes from the one to the
other in turn, and cannot be got to see that, as the negative
aspect of reality has also a positive side, a real world apart
from a universalizing intelligence to make it real, is as much
a fiction as a circumference without a center.
The development of common into scientific knowledge in-
volves a great increase in that double process of differentiation
and integration which is implied in the simplest conception of
reality. The universe increases immensely in complexity, but
at the same time it coalesces into a more perfect unity. Here,
also, countenance is given to the false conception of real knowl-
edge as a process of analysis or abstraction. The empiricist
is not content merely to separate Thought and Matter as
abstract opposites of each other. He applies the same process
of abstraction to the various aspects in which Nature itself is
contemplated by the scientific mind in its different moods.
Common knowledge really grows up by means of a dialectical
process, in which there is a perpetual equilibrium of the posi-
tive and the negative aspects of reality. But as the individual
168 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
mind interests itself temporarily only in the attributes it con-
ceives as positive or essential, the negative or unessential
attributes are passed over with a hasty glance and forgotten.
Thus the equilibrium is destroyed. The same dialectical pro-
cess, and the same predominance of interest in certain select
relations of existence, is manifested in the procedure of the
special sciences; witht his difference — that each tendency is
carried out to its extreme. The scientific man breaks up the
first immediate unity of things, which is sufficient to satisfy
the languid interest of common sense, and in this analysis he
vastly extends the synthesis essential to all experience, increas-
ing a thousandfold the complexity of the known universe. But
as his interest centres, not in the easily accessible relations
alone regarded by common sense, but in those hidden away
from its superficial gaze, he naturally treats the sensible prop-
erties of things as unimportant and unessential. This affords
the empiricist fresh scope for misconstruction. The relations
of things which are accessible to all are not for that reason
absolutely unessential, but they are apt to be thought so by
one who places himself at the purely scientific point of view.
And this is what the empiricist frequently does. Overlooking,
in his haste, the negative element essential to all knowledge,
he assumes that the relations labelled " essential " by science
need alone to be considered, while those relations classed by it
as " unessential " may be thrown out as so much useless lum-
ber. But no aspect of reality, or of knowledge, is unessen-
tial to one who proposes to formulate the conditions of reality
as a whole, and to give a true account of the nature of knowl-
edge. Part of the problem of Philosophy is, in fact, to bring
* forward into the light those elements of existence and of
knowledge that, by common sense and by the special sciences,-
are allowed to rest in shadow. Philosophy can plead no pre-
dominant interest in one aspect of the world rather than in
another, for to it all are alike important and alike essential.
The equilibrium of real existence disturbed by the preoccu-
pation of common sense and of science must be restored.
Philosophy may not pander to the one-sidedness of common
and of scientific knowledge without violating its most sacred
The World as Force. 109
duty ; it must formulate existence in its totality, dismissing
no aspect of it with a contemptuous " unessential ! ' The
empiricist does not know his duty, and hence he seizes upon
the analytic side of knowledge, to the neglect of the "syn-
thetic unity of experience." And not only does he throw
aside as unessential those real relations emphasized by com-
mon sense, but he is prone to dismiss from his thoughts
all elements of reality except the most abstract. Having
once entered upon the path of abstraction, he is never
at rest until he has followed it up to its issue. The rejec-
tion of the sensible properties of common knowledge is not
enough, but he must go on to remove even such manifestly
real properties as those conceived to be essential by the
chemist, the physicist, and the astronomer ; nay, he will carry
the process of pure analysis to its utmost limit, and pause
only when his frenzy for abstractions has faded away into
an ecstatic vision of Matter in itself. The nude form of a
universe, differentiated only by a multiplicity of units of mass,
is still too concrete, too definite for him ; he has not yet
stripped existence to the bone, and he must complete the pro-
cess, or be miserable. Such devotion to the abstract not only
renders a true philosophy an impossibility, but it completely
misconstrues the essential character of scientific procedure.
The differentiation of physical from chemical relations, and
of the latter from dynamic relations, is not only a justifiable
procedure of science, but it is the condition of scientific prog-
ress ; the elimination of all motion, change, and life from the
world is essential to the comprehension of the world as a col-
lection of units of mass, and to exactness in dynamical and
chemical conceptions. But because the special sciences, for
sufficient reasons of their own, concentrate their attention
upon certain aspects of existence, to the exclusion of others
not less essential, that is no reason why the philosopher, who
is not bound by the same rules as the scientist, should raise
the special to the dignity of the universal. The dry bones of
reality must again be clothed upon and touched with new life
before any theory adequately representing the infinite fulness
of the intelligible universe can be framed.
170 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
"It is important," says Mr. Lewes, " to bear in mind that
all our scientific conceptions are analytical, and, at the best,
only approximative. They are analytical, because science is
' seeing with other eyes,' and looks away from the synthetic
fact of experience to see what is not visible there. They are
approximations, because they are generalities." 5 The con-
- trast here drawn between common knowledge as synthetic
and scientific knowledge as analytic is utterly fallacious.
There are not two discrepant processes of knowledge, but all
knowledge is developed in the same way, by a differentiation
that is at the same time integration — an analysis that includes
synthesis. The unity of the process of knowledge is just as
perfect as the unity of existence and the unity of intelligent
experience. Common knowledge is more remote from reality
than science, and hence it is more "general," or abstract.
When Science, to use one of Mr. Lewes's illustrations, re-
solves Light into undulations of ether acting upon the retina,
it does not pass from fact to abstraction, from synthesis to
analysis. The point of view is changed ; but in the change
there is an actual increase in differentiation and integration,
an advance from the more to the less general, the less to the
more concrete. By breaking up the phenomenon of Light
into its factors, the undulations of an elastic medium and the
the sensibility of the retina, the phenomenon is more exactly
defined; the analysis is, at the same time, a new synthesis.
And this is but a single instance of the general procedure of
Science. It is true that, if we attend solely to its analytic
aspect, as Mr. Lewes does, and attempt to build an exhaustive
theory of the process of knowledge upon that alone, we may
contrast the fulness of reality, characteristic of common
knowledge, with the extreme tenuity of scientific knowledge ;
but to do so is simply to misinterpret the one kind of
knowledge as well as the other. Both alike proceed,
* and must proceed, by a dialectic process that is neither
analytic nor synthetic, but both in one ; and both alike
distinguish the essential from the unessential, the positive
5 Problems of Life and Mind, vol. ii, p. 226.
The World as Force. 171
from the negative. Common sense attends only to those
relations that rouse its interest, and all others it dismisses as
unimportant. And as the attributes so selected are simply
the most superficial, the knowledge of common sense is nec-
essarily more "general' than the knowledge of science.
What by the plain man is regarded as essential, is passed over
as unessential by the scientific man ; the interest of the latter
lies in the more recondite properties of things, and hence
those commonly known are taken for granted and lightly
passed over. Science, as such, however, does not deny the
reality of the ordinary relations ; that is left for the empirical
philosopher, who plumes himself upon the exclusive accuracy
with which he formulates scientific procedure. When you
know that 7-f-5=12, you cannot be forever repeating the slow
process of adding unit to unit. So, when the common
properties of things are once known, they are as a matter of
course taken for granted, and henceforth treated as = x.
Hence the seemino; abstractness of scientific knowledge, as
compared with ordinary knowledge. But the abstractness is
only seeming ; we cannot be always going back to the very
beo-innino- of knowledge, but must take something for granted,
and start afresh. Thus, science, without denying established
relations, widens the area of existence, and increases the com- "
plexity of knowledge. It is by a reciprocal analysis and
synthesis that science comes to classify one set of relations
as essential and another set as unessential. But, as no real
properties are unessential in the last resort, the distinction is
an artifice of science, not one determining the nature of real
existence itself. Mr. Lewes' s mistake is that of all em-
piricists ; he takes the real world, in the plenitude of its
known relations, and this he supposes to be known by a
" synthesis of sensibles." That is to say, the presentations
of Sense reveal existence as it truly is ; and hence science,
as contemplating only special aspects of existence, stands in
unfavorable contrast to the knowledge of common sense.
But, in the first place, Sense does not give real objects, for it
gives of itself nothing at all ; and, secondly, supposing it did,
it would be " synthetic" only by including scientific knowl-
172 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
edge as a part of universal knowledge. On the first point,
nothing more needs to be added. The second point brings
out the fallacious procedure of empircism into especial promi-
nence. Mr. Lewes contemplates the real world after the
completion of the long process by which it has been mani-
fested to intelligence, or, more correctly, after intelligence has
manifested itself in it ; and hence, attending only to a part of
that process at a time, he plausibly tells us that science deals
only with " generalities." Most assuredly it does, if we con-
template the intelligible world as a whole ; most assuredly it
does not, if we are speaking of it as compared with ordinary
knowledge. The part is always less than the whole, and
therefore more abstract ; to say that the world as it interests
science is partial or abstract, compared with the world in the
plenitude of its relations, while a true, is not a very instruc-
tive remark ; and to maintain that it is more abstract than
that common-sense knowledge with which it starts, and which
it is its one object to extend, is an utter perversion of the
truth. Empircism is perpetually oscillating between truism
and falsehood.
Mr. Spencer, as his readers are never allowed to forget, holds
that, after giving an " inductive " proof of a proposition, it is
necessary straightway to supplement it by a "deductive"
proof. It is curious that it has never occurred to him that
two things which cannot be permitted to stand alone must be
but two aspects of the same thing. If either proof is com-
plete in itself, why weaken it by the suggestion that it is in
need of being complemented by its opposite? There is a true
instinct in this double process of demonstration, but, like other
instincts, it has a very imperfect comprehension of itself. The
opposition of Induction and Deduction is but another aspect
of the false separation of Synthesis and Analysis. There is a
real justification, from the point of view of scientific knowl-
edge, in separating the one aspect from the other, and there
is no practical harm done in regarding each as a separate pro-
cess. For science rests upon an unformulated abstraction
from Intelligence, and rightly regards its task as complete
when it has set forth those relations that in their totality
The World as Force. 173
express the realm of Nature. It is otherwise with philosophy, '
which proposes to itself the more ambitious task of formulat-
ing existence as a whole, and therefore essays to show the
ultimate relations of Nature and Intelligence. Science, as
has been reiterated, perhaps to weariness, is interested only
in certain aspects of reality, and hence it takes for granted the
relations of things familiar to common sense. Things, as par-
tially qualified, are its points of departure, and its own pecu-
liar procedure consists in extending and widening common
knowledge. Thus it may rightly enough be said to proceed
" from the known to the unknown," or, as we should prefer to
say, from the less to the more known. This is what science
knows as Induction.
It is rightly held that no advance in knowledge is possible
by what Syllogistic Logic calls Deduction, since by a mere
restatement of that which is already assumed to be known
no advance to the "unknown" can possibly be made. We
cannot, therefore, wonder at the contempt of science for
" mere conceptions." The contempt is a healthy one. The
man of science knows that to gain any real knowledge he
must begin where common sense leaves off; that to know
more about existence he must go out beyond ordinary concep-
tions of existence. Empirical Logic, here following scientific
thought, also asserts that knowledge is gained by a discovery
of new relations of things ; and, so far, it is correct. But, as
it falsely asserts that our common knowledge of things is
acquired by passive observation, it takes for granted that indi-
vidual things, or particular " facts," are discerned without
any constructive activity of intelligence. Hence, the discov-
ery of new relations is supposed still to leave individual
things in their isolation. The only change in things is in
their greater complexity. The real world is now supposed to
have, independently of intelligence, all the properties revealed
by science, as well as those known in ordinary knowledge.
Induction now assumes quite a different aspect. It consists in
the separation, one by one, of properties already assumed to be
known, and hence it is no longer a progress from " the known
to the unknown," but a regress from the more to the less
174 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
known. By abstraction, it is supposed, a general law is dis-
covered ; and this law, once discovered, may be shown to apply
to the particular facts from which it was abstracted. The
process of reasoning down from the general law to the partic-
ular facts is Deduction. Now here we have a confusion between
a universal as law of nature and a universal as an abstract
conception. If nature is already known in the fulness of its
relations, what possible sense is there in seeking for laws of
nature, which are but special groups of relations considered
apart? If everything is known already, there is no need
either of Induction or of Deduction. By a bare intuition we
may comprehend all things, and any process of knowledge is
not only useless, but impossible. Thus, the measure of truth
which Empirical Loo;ic had attained to in the iudsrinent that
knowledge proceeds "from the known to the unknown" is
again lost in a theory of Deduction, that, assuming a perfectly
known world to begin with, can only explain the process of
knowledge as a retreat from the better known to the less
known. If we take the first, and relatively correct, notion of
Induction as a progress from the less to the more known, we
may easily give it a form that will correctly embody the true
process of knowledge. Every advance in knowledge is the
discovery of a new relation, and every new relation is, from its
connection with intelligence, necessary and universal. Thus
scientific knowledge does not first reveal a number of discon-
nected particulars, and then proceed to combine them into a
general law. The law is discerned in the discernment of the
particulars. A law is neither more nor less than a complex of
relations, and all relations are ipso facto universal and neces-
sary. The distinction between " fact " and " law " is a purely
relative one. A fact is not by itself regarded as a law, but
it contains the universal element which is characteristic of
law. In speaking of facts, we are looking rather at the par-
ticular than the universal aspect of relations ; in speaking of
a law, we contemplate the universal rather than the particular
aspect. But there is no real separation in reality or in knowl-
edge. That which is real is necessarily universal, and there
is no universality apart from reality. Induction emphasizes
The World as Force. 175
the particular aspect of reality. Deduction emphasizes the
universal. In the one, it is said, we go from the particular to
the universal ; in the other, from the universal to the particu-
lar. Correctlj r stated, there is no "going" from the one to
the other at all, for each only exists in and through the other.
If the particular did not imply the universal, no combination
of particulars would be possible, and hence there could be no
universal law ; the universal separated from the particular is
no law, but a barren abstraction. The true process of knowl-
edge is, therefore, one combining these two aspects of knowl-
edge in one indivisible act. There is not pure Induction or
pure Deduction, but both ; and the separation of the one
aspect from the other, however convenient it may be to the
individual enquirer, is but a logical artifice, that in no way
affects the real indivisibility of the one dialectic process.
These considerations warn us beforehand what we are to
expect from the " inductive " and " deductive " proofs offered
by Mr. Spencer in support of the doctrine of the indestructi-
bility of Matter. We may be certain that they are but differ-
ent ways of stating the same thing, and that the one simply
makes explicit that which in the other is implicit. The in-
ductive proof is briefly this : Take any substance, and find
out by weighing it the number of its constituent atoms ; let it
undergo a chemical or physical process of change, and it will
be found that the number of constituent atoms is still exactly
the same as before. Here we start from the ordinary empir-
ical assumption that a thing, as variously qualified, is given by
purely passive observation. The Induction itself is further
supposed to be a process of passive observation. But, if that
be the case, how can we legitimately pass from our par-
ticular observations of individual substances to the univer-
sal affirmation that Matter as a whole is indestructible? As
Hume has shown, the mere observation of facts does not enti-
tle us to make any universal judgment ; w r e are confined to
the judgment, " This substance, so long as I observe it, re-
mains the same in quantity." The tacit assumption, therefore,
which underlies this so-called inductive proof is that the pro-
portion between weight and mass, or force and matter, because
176 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
it holds good in particular instances, also holds good univer-
sally; in other words, every real relation is universal. The
" deductive " proof simply brings out into relief the assump-
tion here obscurely made. We may conceive Matter to be
compressed, it is said, to any finite extent, but we can never
conceive it to be compressed into nothing. Now, there is no
difficultv in conceiving — i. e., imagining — any given unit of
mass to be reduced in size, so long as we contemplate the mass
per se, without introducing the conception of weight or force
impressed. In like manner, it is perfectly easy to imagine the
decrease of the given weight of any mass, so long as we ab-
stract from the mass and look onlv at the weight. What,
then, is inconceivable? Manifestly, the conception of a mass
that is not proportional to weight, or of weight that is not
proportional to mass. We cannot conceive Matter compressed
into nothing, because we cannot conceive the compression
of nothing. The deductive proof, therefore, asserts univer-
sally that mass and weight are correlative and proportional.
How is this known? Evidently by an appeal to Induction.
The universal law has no meaning except in and through its
particulars ; it is a mere name, until we assume certain real
relations of mass and weight. The truth underlying these
proofs, therefore, is that every particular relation is univer-
sal. This universality and particularity are alike due to intel-
ligence. The comprehension of any relation as real is at the
same time the affirmation that, wherever that relation exists,
there the universal law holds good. The doctrine of the in-
destructibility of matter is but an imperfect statement of the
immortality of intelligence.
The fourth, or metaphysical conception of Matter is, in one
view, an utter perversion of the relations of existence and in-
telligence, and, in another view, an unconscious testimony to
their unity. We have seen that, while knowledge is in all
cases a double process of analysis and synthesis, induction
and deduction, there is yet a natural illusion which gives coun-
tenance to the fallacy that the product of knowledge is due to
analvsis onlv. In the search for an ultimate unity, the mo-
tive power of all philosophical speculation, there is a predis-
The World as Force. 177
position to fix upon the positive aspect of thought, to the ex-
clusion of the negative aspect. Put into practice, this pre-
disposition results in the false supposition that unity is to be
sought by abstraction, and not by synthesis, in the elimination
of differences, not in the combination of differences in a higher
unity. Empiricism, in dealing with the known world, ends in
the exclusion of all except quantitative relations as unessen-
tial or negative. But this still leaves a trace of differentia-
tiou, and the restless aspiration after a perfect unity only
finds its object, or supposes it has found it, in the pure, undif-
ferentiated unity of Matter in itself. Now, when we ask
what relation this pallid abstraction has to the process of
knowledge, we find that it is just its ideal beginning, the
mere " something is," the Aristotelian ol-q. Thought has
gone through a laborious experience, only to reach as its goal
the point from which it set out. Strictly speaking, as has
already been shown, this supposed realization of the high
aspiration after unity is not even the initial limit of knowl-
edge, for that involves the reflection of one term of a relation
upon the other, and of both into the intelligence which is their
source. " Something," or " Matter in itself," is the bare
predicate of reality, detached from its proper connection and
raised bj' abstraction to a fictitious independence ; or, otherwise
expressed, it is the "think" without the "I." To invest
this vague prophecy of the unity of all existence — or, what is
the same thing, of the unity of intelligence — with mysterious
and awe-inspiring attributes, is but to destroy the abstract
purity of Matter in itself, and to become the prey of an
imagination freed from contact with the real world. The
self-deception which finds in pure Being a fit object of worship
is only worthy of tolerance because it may be regarded as an
unconscious testimony to the real identity of Thought and
Existence. It is a true philosophic impulse, which ever points
onward to a perfect unity, reconciling all differences ; but the
impatience and confusion of thought which lead to the notion
that a true unity is to be found by the facile process of ignor-
ing all differences is a perversion of that impulse, and a
destruction at once of knowledge and of reality.
XIII— 12
178 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
The result of our investigation thus far is to show that Mat-
ter, as conceived by the correlationists, is synonymous with
indivisible units of mass, and excludes from its essence or
definition all other relations whatever. "Matter," says Mr.
Lewes, "is the Felt, viewed in its statical aspect." 6 If for
"Felt' we substitute " Intelligible," and interpret the
phrase "in its statical aspect" to mean "conceived as
exclusive units of mass," this definition may be adopted.
Intelligence, at the stage in question, conceives the universe
as absolutely indifferent to all change, not excluding change of
place or motion, and attends only to the permanence of its
extended and solid particles. This is not absolutely the first
stas;e in the rational evolution of the real world, as revealed
by science, but it is one of the earlier stages. The simplest
conception of all, as we saw, was that of Space, the synthesis
of homogeneous units, definable only as each external to the
rest. This mere outerness begins to give way in the notion
of Time, the synthesis of homogeneous units that are, not only
out of each other, but, so to speak, into each other. The
synthesis of Space and Time is the conception of Position,
the mutual relation of relatively concrete units of space, that
persist through successive times. Positions, as indifferent to
each other, and as filled, form the content of the conception of
Matter, defined as an airsre^ate of mutualh r exclusive units of
mass. But as all positions are relative to each other, and as
-all alike may be filled, there is implicit in the notion of Posi-
tion the more concrete idea of Motion, and in the notion of
filled positions, the idea of specific motion, i. e., the motion
of Matter. Matter, defined as a congeries of exclusive units of
mass, thus finds its justification in the correlative notion of
concrete Motion. Hence, the conception of existence, as
arrested in isolated atomic units, has to be corrected by the
conception of those units as changing their relative positions.
The conception of Motion is thus the first remove from the
purely abstract notion of the real world — the first negation of
the atomic conception of existence. The complete justifica-
6 Problems of Life and Mind, vol. ii, p. 231.
Iler/el on Jacob BoeJime. 179
tion of this negation is to be found in the notion of Force,
which is a negation of negation, a second remove from the
abstract conception of things. Motion and Force, in their
relations to Matter, will, therefore, be our next topic.
JACOB BOEHME.
[TRANSLATED FROM HEGEL'S HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY, BY EDWIN D. MEAD.]
I.
From Lord Bacon, the English lord chancellor, and the chief
leader of all external, sensuous philosophizing, we turn to the
Philosophus Teutonicus, as he was called, to the shoemaker of
Lusatia — a man of whom we Germans need not be ashamed.
It was, indeed, through him that philosophy first appeared in
Germany with a distinctive German character. He stands in
the directly opposite extreme to Bacon, and was called Theos-
ophus Teuton /ens, even as formerly Mysticism was called '
PI i ilosoph la Teutoniea .
This Jacob Boehtne was long forgotten, and was decried as a
pietistic visionary. The period of enlightenment, especially,
limited the number of his students. Even Leibnitz es-
teemed him highly; but not until more recent times has he
again been duly honored, and has the profundity of his
thought again become acknowledged. It is certain that, on
the one hand, he does not deserve that old contempt ; but
neither, on the other hand, is he entitled to that high honor to
which the present has sought to elevate him. To call him a
visionary signifies nothing. If one pleases, one can call every
philosopher so, including Epicurus and Bacon; for even these
have held that man has his true reality in something other than
eating and drinking, or the every-dav life of hewing wood, or
making clothes, or buying and selling. As to the high honor
to which Boehnie has been elevated, he owes it especially to
his form of contemplation and sentiment ; for contemplation
and inward feeling, praying and longing, the figurative style
180 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
of thinking, allegorizing, and the like, are held by some to be
the genuine form of philosophy. But it is only in the idea, in
thought, that philosophy has its truth — that the absolute can
be expressed, or that indeed it is, as it is in itself. On this
side Boehme is a perfect barbarian — a man nevertheless,
who, along with his crude mode of representation, possesses a
concrete, deep heart. Since he has no method, or order, it is
difficult to give a presentation of his philosophy.
Jacob Boehme was born in 1575, in Old Seidenberg, near
Goerlitz, in Upper Lusatia. His parents were poor peasants,
and in his boyhood he herded cattle. He was brought up
in Lutheranism, to which he always adhered. The biography
which accompanies his work was written by a clergy man, who
knew him personally. We find much in this biography con-
cerning; the various agitations through which he arrived at
deeper perception. Even as a herdsman on the pastures, as
he relates of himself, he had most wonderful visions. The
first wonderful vision came to him in a thicket, in which he
saw a cavern and a box of money. Startled by this splendor,
he was inwardly awakened out of dull stupidity ; but the
vision did not reappear. He was afterwards apprenticed to a
shoemaker. It was chiefly through the text (Luke xi., 13),
" Your Father in Heaven shall give the Holy Spirit to them
that ask Him," that he was roused to the thought that in
order to know the truth he should, in simplicity of spirit,
earnestly and continually pray, seek and knock, until he, then
on his wanderings with his master, should, through the passing
of the Father into the Son according to the Spirit, be carried
over into the holy Sabbath and glorious day of rest of souls,
and that thus his prayer should be answered. Thereupon ( ac-
cording to his own account, ) he " was surrounded with divine
light, and remained for seven days in the highest divine con-
templation and fulness of joy.',' His master dismissed him
on this account, with the remark that he could not afford to
keep a prophet with him. After this he lived in Goerlitz.
In 1594 he became a master shoemaker, and married. Later,
"in the year 1(300, in the twenty-fifth year of his age," the
light appeared to him again in a second vision, of the same
Hegel on Jacob Boehme. 181
sort as the first. According to his own account, he saw a
brightly polished pewter vessel in the chamber, and " through
the sudden sight of the lovely, jovial lustre " of the metal, he
was conducted (in a fit of abstraction, and in the entrancement
of his astral spirit) " to the central point of secret Nature,"
and into the light of the Divine Being. " He went out before
the gate and into the fields, in order to drive this vision out of
his head, and yet he experienced the feeling none the less, but
rather longer, stronger, and clearer ; so that, by means of the
imparted signs or figures, outlines and colors, he could, as it
were, see into the heart and innermost nature of all things
(which position, so strongly forced upon him, he also main-
tains and glorifies in his book De Si gnatura llerum), on ac-
count of which he overflowed with great joy, thanked God,
and turned peacefully to his domestic affairs." Later he
wrote many works. He remained in Goerlitz, working at his
trade, and there, in 1<>24, he died.
His works have received special attention from the Dutch,
and therefore most of the editions have been published in
Amsterdam, though reprinted in Hamburg. His first work
was the " Aurora; " or, " The Morning Red in its Rising, "
which was followed by many others; that entitled " On the
Three Principles," and another, " On the Threefold Life of
Man," are among those which are worthiest of attention.
Boehme constantly read the Bible. What other works he read
is not known. Very many points in his works prove, however,
that he had read much, and especially mystic, theosophic, and
alchemistic writings ; partly, at any rate, the works of Theo-
phrastus Paracelsus Bombastus, of Hohenheim — a philoso-
pher of something the same sort as Boehme himself, but pecu-
liarly diffuse in his writings, and without Boehme's deep feel-
iug. Boehme was often persecuted by the clergy, but he
caused less sensation in Germany than in Holland and Eng-
land, where his works have been published in many forms.
His writings make a strange impression upon the reader, and
one must be familiar with his ideas in order to find the true
meaning in the exceedingly confused form of their expression.
The content of Jacob Boehme's philosophizing is thoroughly
182 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
German ; for that which distinguishes him and makes him
worthy of attention is the Protestant principle, already re-
ferred to, of placing the intellectual world in the individual
mind — of viewing;, and knowing, and of feel inn; in the self-
consciousness that which before was regarded as external. The
general idea of Boehme's shows itself thus, on the one hand,
deep and fundamental ; on the other hand, however, he does
not, with all his desire and struggle after determination and
distinction in the universe, arrive at clearness and order.
There is no coherent system, but the greatest confusion in his
distinctions — even in his "Table," wherein three numbers
appear :
What God is, apart from Nature and Creation.
II.
Separableness, Mysterium The I. Principium,
God in Lpve. Magnum. God in Wrath.
III.
God in Wrath and Love.
There is no positive determination of moments here ; we
only have the sense of struggle ; now it is this distinction, and
now that, which is laid down ; and as the distinctions are sep-
arately referred to, they run one into another.
The manner and method of his presentation must, therefore,
be called barbaric. The modes of expression in his works
prove this ; as when, for instance, he speaks of the divine
salitter, the mercurius, and so forth. As Boehme places the
life, the movement of absolute Being, in the soul, so he also
views all conceptions in an actuality ; or he uses actualities as
conceptions (that is, natural things and sensible qualities arbi-
trarily, instead of definitions) to represent his ideas. For in-
stance, sulphur and the like mean, with him, not the things
that w r e so name, but their essence ; or a certain conception
has this specific form of reality. Boehme is most deeply in-
Hegel on Jacob Boehme. 183
tercsted in the idea, and struggles sorely with it. The specu-
lative truth which he wishes to represent, requires, in order to*
make himself comprehended, essentially thought and the
form of thought. Only in thought can this unity, in whose
central point his spirit stands, be comprehended, but it is pre-
cisely the form of thought which he lacks. The forms which
he uses are essentially no categories of thought. They are on
the one side sensible, chemical determinations ; such qualities
as harsh, sweet, sour, grim ; or feelings such as anger, love ; or
tincture, essence, pain, etc. These sensuous forms, however,.
do not have with him their peculiar sensuous significance ; but
he uses them in order to give words to his thoughts. It is at
once apparent how arbitrary this mode of presentation must
be, since only thought is capable of unity. Thus it seems
strangely confusing when we read of the bitterness of God,
of lightning, etc. We must have the idea beforehand, and
then, indeed, we may find it figured in these strange similes.
The second point is that Boehme uses as form of the
idea the Christian form, particularly the form of the Trinity,
which was that which lay nearest to him. The sensuous form
and the religious form of imaging, of sensuous pictures and
representations, he strangely mixes together. Crude and bar-
barous as this is, on the one hand, and hard to endure by those
who persevere in reading Boehme and try firmly to hold his
thoughts (for one's head is kept whirling with " qualities,"
"spirits," "angels,"), it must nevertheless be recognized
that these pictures and representations speak out of his reality
— out of his soul. This rough, deep German mind, that deals
Avith the innermost, exercises, peculiarly indeed, a tremendous
might and power to use reality as a conception, and to keep
about him and within him whatever goes on in Heaven. As
Hans Sachs, in his manner, has represented the Lord God,
Christ, and the Holy Ghost as common citizens like himself,
and has treated in the same manner the angels and patriarchs,
instead of taking them as bygone and historic beings, just
so Boehme.
In the eyes of faith spirit has truth, but in this truth the
moment of certainty is lacking. That the subject of Chris-
184 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
tianity is truth, or the spirit, we have seen. This is given
to faith as immediate truth. But faith has it unconsciously,
without knowledge, without knowing it as self-conscious-
ness ; and since in self-consciousness the thought, the con-
ception, is essential — Giordano Bruno's unity of opposites —
faith lacks precisely this unity. Its moments fall apart as
separate forms, particularly its highest moments — the good
and the evil, or God and the Devil. God is, and so is the
Devil ; both are for themselves. If God, however, is the
absolute Being, the question arises : What absolute Being
is this to which all reality, and especially the evil, does not
appertain? Boehme is therefore compelled partly to conduct
the soul of man to divine life, to place this life in the soul
itself, to regard the strife as one in the soul, and to make it
the soul's own work and endeavor ; and partly, for that very
ground, to show that the evil is contained in the good — a
problem which also agitates our own time. But as Boehme
has not got hold of the idea, and is in so far behind in the
culture of thought, this process appears as a fearful, painful
struggle of his soul and consciousness with language : and the
object of this struggle is to obtain the profoundest idea of
God, which may bring together and bind in one the most ab-
solute opposites — not, however, for thinking reason. If one
may so express it, Boehme struggles (since to him God is all)
to conceive the negative — the evil, the devil — in and from
God, to comprehend God as absolute : and this struggle char-
acterizes his entire writings, and is the travail of his soul. It
is a tremendous, wild, crude effort of the inner being to bind
together things that in form and appearance are so far from
one another. In his strong soul Boehme brings both together,
and in that act breaks to pieces all that immediate appearance
of reality which both possess. When, however, he conceives
this movement, this spiritual nature in itself thus internally,
the definition of the moments approaches, after all, simply
nearer to the form of self-consciousness — of the idea devoid
of sensuous form. The speculative thought stands, indeed, in
the background ; but it does not come to its proper representa-
tion. Popular crude methods of representation are employed ;
Hegel on Jacob Boehme. 185
a perfect looseness of speech appears, which to us seems vul-
gar. With the devil Boehme has especially much to do, and
he addresses him often. "Come here," he says, "thou
Black-Jack. What wilt thou? I will write for thee a pre-
scription." Shakespeare's Prospero, in the Tempest, threat-
ens Ariel that he will cleave an oak and peg him in the
knotty entrails for a thousand years ; thus Boehme's great
soul is pegged in the hard, knotty oak of the sensuous, im-
prisoned in the knotty, hard growth of the imagination, with-
out being able to come to the free representation of the idea.
I will briefly indicate Boehme's main ideas, and then point
out several separate forms in which he revels ; for he does not
abide in one form, since neither the sensuous nor the religious
suffices him. Although he copiously repeats himself, the
forms of his main representations are still every where differ-
ent, and students will be deceived who undertake to give a
systematic development of Boehme's representations, especially
as they advance in their task. One must expect in Boehme
neither a systematic representation nor an accurate management
of particulars. One cannot speak much of his thoughts with-
out assuming his own form of expression and quoting directly
concerning particulars, for otherwise it is impossible to express
his thoughts. The fundamental idea of Jacob Boehme is the
struggle to maintain all things in an absolute unitv. He desires
to exhibit the absolute, Divine unity, and the union in God of
all antitheses. His main thought — one may indeed say his
only thought, that which runs through all his works — is to
conceive in all things the Holy Trinity ; to recognize all things
as its revelation and representation, so that it is the univer-
sal principle in which and through which all is ; and this in
this way: that all things have only this divine Trinity in them-
selves, not as a trinity of the imagination, but as the reality
of the absolute idea. All that exists is, according to Boehme,
only this Trinity ; this Trinity is all. The universe is thus to
him one divine life, and a universal revelation of God ; so that
from the one essence of God, the source of all powers and
qualities, the Son is eternally born — the Son who is mani-
fested in those powers ; and the inner unity of this light with
186 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
the substance of the powers is the spirit. The representation
is now darker, now clearer. What follows is the explication
of this Trinity; and here especially appear the various forms
which he uses to denote the distinction which occurs in the
Trinity.
In the "Aurora," the " Root, or Mother of Philosophy,
Astrology, and Theology," Boehme attempts a classification,
in which he places these sciences side by side, yet without
clear distinctions, simply passing over from one to the other.
" (1.) In Philosophy he treats of the divine power, what God
is, and how, in the being of God, nature, the stars, and the
elementa are made ; whence all things have their origin ;
how heaven and earth are made ; also, angels, men, and
devils, heaven and hell, and all that is created : also, what the
two qualities in nature are, in the impulse and actions of God.
(2.) In Astrology, the powers of nature, the stars and the
elements are treated ; and how from these all creatures have
proceeded ; how good and evil are wrought, through them, in
men and animals. (3.) Under Theology he treats the king-
dom of Christ ; how this is conditioned ; how it is opposed to
the kingdom of hell ; also, how it struggles in nature with the
kingdom of hell."
1. The First is God, the Father. This First has at the same
time a distinction within itself, and is the unity of the dis-
tinction. " God is all," he says. " He is darkness and light,
love and anger, tire and light ; but He calls Himself alone one
God, after the light of His love. There is an eternal contra-
rium between darkness and light ; neither holds the other, and
neither is the other ; and yet there is but one single Being only
with the Qual — torture — in distinction; so with the will,
there being, however, no separable Being. Only one pvin-
cipium divides this : that one is in the other as a nothing, and
nevertheless is; but according to its quality, wherein it is not
manifest." By the Qual ( " torture " ) is expressed that which
is absolute, even the self-conscious, felt negativity, the self-
determinino- negative, which is therefore absolute affirmation.
Around this point all of Boehme's efforts turn ; the principle
of conception is in him throughout alive, only he cannot ex-
Hegel on Jacob Boehme. 187
press it in the form of thought. All depends upon this: to
think the negative as simple, when it is at the same time an
opposite. Thus the torture is this inner self-opposition,
and yet at the same time the simple. From this word
Qital (torture) Boehme derives Quellen [sources] — a good
play upon words; for the Qual (torture) — this negativity
passes into vitality, activity ; and thus he brings it also together
with Qualitat (quality). The absolute identity of the differ-
ent is everywhere present with him.
a. Thus Boehme does not represent God as an empty unity,
but as the self-dirempting unity of the absolutely opposed. The
First One, the Father, has at the same time the manner of
natural existence. Concerning this, he speaks thus : that God
is the simple Essence ; quite like Proclus. This simple Essence
he calls the Hidden ; he defines it also as the Tempera mentwn —
that unity of differences in which all is tempered. We find,
too, m this connection, much about the great salitter — now
the divine, now the salitter of nature — also called salniter.
When he discourses about this great salitter as of something
known, one does not immediately understand what he means.
It is, however, a cobbler-like murder of the words sal nitri,
i. e., saltpetre (which, in Austria, is still called salniter).
This figures thus the neutral and truly universal Being; this
is the divine splendor. In God is a splendid nature — trees,
plants, etc. " In the divine splendor, two things are especially
to be considered : the salitter, or the divine powers, which
produce all fruit, and the mercurius, or sound." This great
salitter is the unrevealed Being, even as the New Platonic
unity is without self-consciousness, and so equally unknown.
b. This first substance contains all powers or qualities,
as not yet differenced ; so then this salitter appears as the
body of God, which contains all qualities in itself. Quality
is a main idea, and the first determination with Boehme ;
and he begins with the qualities in his work, "The Morn-
ing Red in its Rising." With the quality he also after-
wards brings together inqualiren (inqualitize), and there
says: " Quality is the mobility, the Quallen (pain), or unrest
of a thing." These qualities he then defines, but it is an ob-
188 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
scare representation: "It is as the heat, which burns, con-
sumes, and drives out all that comes into it which is not of its
own quality. On the other hand, it lights and warms all that is
cold, wet, and dark, and makes the soft hard. But it has two
species in itself, namely, light and rage' (negativity);
" the light — the heart of the heat — is a lovely, joyful sight, a
power of life, a part, or a source of the heavenl} r joy; for it
makes everything in this world alive and moving. All flesh,
as well as all trees, foliage, and grass, grow in this world by
the power of light, and have life therein, as in the good.
On the other hand, it possesses rage, which burns, consumes,
and ruins. This rage swells, drives, and uplifts itself in the
light, and causes the light to move. They struggle and fight
with each other in their twofold source. The light exists in
•God without heat, but it does not exist in nature ; for in
nature all qualities are one in another, according to kind and
manner. Even as God is everything, God " (the Father) " is
the heart," says Boehme. In another place (in the work on
the " Threefold Life of Man ") he says " the Son is the heart
of God." Again, the spirit is also called the heart, " or foun-
tain of nature; from Him proceeds everything." Now, heat
rules in all forces of nature, and warms them all and is a
source in all. The light in the heat, however, gives to all
qualities the power that makes them -lovely and delightful.
Boehme enumerates a whole list of qualities : cold, hot, bitter,
sweet, raging, harsh, hard, rough qualities, Sound, etc.
" The bitter quality is also in God, yet not after the same sort
and manner, as gall is in man. It is rather an eternally con-
tinuing force, a great triumphing source of joy. Out of these
qualities all creatures are made, and they come thence and
live therein as in their mother."
" The powers of the stars are nature. All things in this
world originate from the stars. That I will prove to thee, if
thou art not a blockhead, and hast but a little reason. If one
considers the whole curriculum, or the entire circle of the
stars, one soon finds that it is the mother of all things, or
nature, out of which all things have grown, and in which all
things stand and live, and through which all things have their
Hegel on Jacob BoeJime. 18D
movement ; and all things are made out of the same forces, and
continue therein eternally." Thus, we say, God is the reality
of all realities. Boehme continues: "Thou must here,
however, lift up thy feeling in the spirit, and consider how en-
tirely nature, with all the powers which are in nature — the
wide, the deep, the high, Heaven, earth, and all that therein
are, and that are above the Heaven — are the body of God ;
and how the powers of the stars are the chief arteries in the
natural body of God in this world. Thou must not think that
in the corpus of the stars the entire triumphant Holy Trinity —
God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost — exists. But this is
not to be thus understood that He is not at all in the corpus
of the stars and in this world. Here, then, is the question :
Whence does Heaven obtain or take these forces, that it pro-
duces such mobility in nature? And here must thou look
above and outside of nature into the holy light, triumph-
ant, divine power — into the unchangeable, holy Trinity,
which is a triumphant, originating, moving Being; and all
powers are therein, as in nature. Therefrom have Heaven,
earth, stars, elementa, devils, angels, men, animals, and every-
thing arisen, and therein evervthino; has its stand. Thus we
call Heaven and earth, the stars and elements, and all that
therein is, and all that is above the heavens — GOD; who
thus, in these many enumerated beings, in the power which
proceeds from Him, hath made Himself a creature. "
c. Again, Boehme defines God, the Father, as follows :.
"When, now, we consider all nature and its qualities, we
seethe Father; when we view the Heaven and the stars, we
see His eternal power and wisdom. Thus many stars twinkle
under the Heaven, innumerable ; thus great and varied are the
powers and wisdom of God, the Father. Every star has its
own quality. Thou must not, however, " think that every
power that is in the Father occupies a certain part .and place
in the Father, as the stars in the Heaven. No ! But the spirit
shows that all powers in the Father are in one another, as one
power." This Avhole is the universal power in general, which
exists as God, the Father, in which the differences are united ;
but it exists createdly as the totality of the stars, therefore as
190 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
diremption into the different qualities. " Thou must not think
that God in Heaven, and above the Heaven, stands, as it were,
and undulates as a power and quality, which has no reason
and knowledge in itself — as the sun, which courseth through its
circle and sheds from itself warmth and light, which bring
alike harm and help to the earth or the creatures. No ! Thus
is not the Father. He is an almighty, all-wise, all-knowing
all-seeing, all-hearing, all-smelling, all-tasting God, who is at
the same time in Himself gentle, friendly, lovely, merciful, and
joyful — yea, is jo}' itself."
ON THE STUDY OF THEOLOGY.
[TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF F. W. J. VON SCHELLING, BEIN T G THE NINTH
LECTURE "ON THE METHOD OF UNIVERSITY STUDY "— AKADEMISCHEN
STUDIUM.]
BY ELLA S. MORGAN.
If I find it difficult to speak of the study of theology, it is
because I must consider the method of that science, and the
whole standpoint from which its truths should be taken, as lost
and forgotten. The collective theories of this science are un-
derstood empirically, and as' such have been asserted and con-
tested. But they are not native to this soil [empiricism] and
altogether lose their meaning and significance.
Theologians maintain that Christianity is a divine revela-
tion, which they conceive as an action of God performed in
Time. Thus they resort to the very standpoint from which
there can be no question whether the origin of Christianity is
explicable on natural grounds. One who could not answer
this problem to his satisfaction must know very little of the
history and culture of the time of its rise. Read the writings
of the learned men, in which the germ of Christianity is shown
to have existed, not merely in Judaism, but in a single religi-
ous community which preceded Judaism. It is not necessary
to go so far, although the account of Josephus, and even the
remains of the Christian historical books, have not been thor-
On the Study of Theology. 191
oughly used in order to demonstrate this connection. Enough ;
Christ as The One is a perfectly comprehensible person, and it
was an absolute necessity to conceive him as a symbolic per-
son, and in a higher significance.
Shall we consider the spread of Christianity as a special
work of divine Providence? It is only necessary to acquaint
ourselves with the time in which it made its first conquests to
recognize it merely as a particular phenomenon of the general
spirit of the time. Not that Christianity created the latter ; it
was itself or.lya premonitive anticipation, the first expression
of that spirit. The Roman Empire was ripe for Christianity
centuries before Constantine chose the Cross as the standard
of the new rule of the world. Perfect gratification of all ex-
ternal desire led to the aspiration for the internal and invisi-
ble ; a decaying empire, whose power was only temporal, the
lost courage in the objective world, the unhappiness of the age,
necessarily created a universal susceptibility for a religion
which directed men back to an ideal, which taught renuncia-
tion and led to happiness.
Christian religious teachers cannot justify any of their asser-
tions without first making their own the higher view of history
itself, which is prescribed by both philosophy and Christianity.
They have fought against unbelief long enough on its own
ground, instead of grappling with the standpoint upon which
it rests. They might say to the advocates of the natural view,
"You are perfectly right from the point of view which you
take, and it is our belief that, from your standpoint, you judge
rightly. We only deny the standpoint itself, or consider it as
a merely subordinate one." It is the same case as the empir-
icist, who proves to the philosopher irrefutably that all know-
ing is posited only through the external necessity of impres-
sions.
The same condition is found in regard to all dogmas of the-
ology. From the idea of the Trinit} r , it is plain that, unless it is
understood speculatively, it has no meaning whatever. The in-
carnation of God in Christ is interpreted by theologians in the
same empirical way, namely, that God took upon Himself the
human shape at some particular moment of time — a view
192 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
which is simply without any significance, since God is eternally
beyond all time. Hence the incarnation of God is the incar-
nation of eternity. The man Christ is, as phenomenal reality,
only the highest point, and in so far, also, the beginning of
this incarnation ; for from Him henceforth all his successors are
members of one and the same body, of which he is the head.
History testifies that in Christ, God first becomes truly objec-
tive ; for who before Him revealed the infinite in such a man-
ner ?
It might be shown that, as far back as historical knowledge
goes, two distinctly different streams of religion and poetry
are distinguishable. The one predominant in the Indian
religion, which transmitted the intellectual system and the
most ancient idealism ; the other, which contained within itself
the realistic view of the world. The former, after flowing
throuirh the whole Orient, found its permanent garden-bed in
Christianity, and, combined with the in itself unfruitful soil of
the Occident, generated the growths of the modern world.
The other, supplemented by the opposite unity — the ideal
of ar t — brought forth in Greek mythology the highest
beauty. And shall we count for nothing the motions of the
opposite pole in Greek culture, the mystical elements of an
abstract kind of poetry, the rejection of mythology and the
banishment of the poets by the philosophers, especially Plato,
who, in a foreign and far-removed world, is a prophet of
Christianity?
But the fact that Christianity existed before, and independ-
ent of this, proves the necessity of its idea, and that even in
this relation no absolute antitheses exist. The Christian mis-
sionaries who came to India thought they brought unheard-of
tidings to the inhabitants when they taught that the God of
the Christians had become man. But the Hindoos were not
surprised ; they b} r no means denied the incarnation of God in
Christ, and only thought it strange that what had taken place
but once in Christianity took place often and continuously
with them. It is not to be denied that they had a better com-
prehension of their own religion than the Christian missionaries
had of theirs.
Oil the Study of Theology. 193
On account of the universality of its idea, the historical con-
struction of Christianity cannot be conceived without the
religious construction of all history. Hence it is no more to
be compared with what has hitherto been called universal
history of religion (although they contain less religion than
anything else) than with the more partial history of the
Christian religion and Church.
Such a construction is in itself only possible to the higher
stage of cognition, which rises above the empirical coordina-
tion of things ; therefore it is not without philosophy, which
is the true organ of theology as science, wherein the highest
ideas of the Divine Being, of nature as the instrumentality,
and of history as the revelation of God, become objective. No
one, of course, will confound the statement of the speculative
meaning of the principal theories of theology with the Kantian
view, whose chief aim is finally to eliminate entirely the posi-
tive and the historical element from Christianity, and to refine it
to a pure lleliuion of Eeason. The true religion of reason is
to see that there are only two manifestations of religion — the
real religion of nature, which is necessarily polytheism in the
sense of the Greeks, and that which, wholly ethical, sees God
in History. The Kantian refinement sees by no means a
speculative, but only a moral, meaning in those theories ; and
by this the empirical standpoint is not really given up, and the
truth of the theories is not accepted in itself, but only in the
subjective relation of possible motives of morality. Like dog-
matism in philosophy, dogmatism in theology is a transferring
of something which can be known only absolutely to the
empirical point of view of the understanding. Kant took nei-
ther the one nor the other at its root, since he knew nothing
positive to put in the place of either. Especially to explain
the Bible morally in schools, as he proposed, would be merely
to use the empirical phenomenon of Christianity for -purposes
which cannot be attained without misapplication, but not to
rise above it to the idea of Christianity.
The first books of the history and doctrines of Christianity
are nothing but a special, and moreover an imperfect, manifes-
tation of the same ; its idea is not to be sought in these books,
XIII — 13
194 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
whose value is to be determined by the degree in which they
express the idea and are in consonance with it. Already in
the soul of the heathen convert, Paul, had Christianity become
other than it was in the first founder. Let us not stop at any
single point of time, which can only be taken arbitrarily, but
let us have all history and all the world which created it be-
fore our eyes.
To the operations of the modern clearing-up (scepticism) —
which, in regard to Christianity, might rather be called clear-
ing-out — belongs the pretence of taking it back, as they say,
to its original sense, to its first simplicity, in which shape they
also call it original Christianity. We should think the Chris-
tian teachers must be grateful to modern times because they
have drawn so much speculative matter out of the meagre con-
tents of the first religious books, and formed this into a system.
It may, indeed, be more convenient to talk of the scholastic
chaos of the old Dogmatism, and to write popular dogmatical
expositions, and to busy oneself with minute inquiries into
the meaning of syllables and words, than to conceive Christi-
anity and its teachings in a more universal relation. Mean-
time one cannot avoid thinking what a hindrance to the con-
summation have been the so-called biblical books, which can
not stand comparison in real religious value with so many others
of early and later times, especially with the East Indian
books.
A merely political object has been ascribed to the hierarchy
in withdrawing these books from the people, but it might well
be the profounder reason that Christianity should continue as
a living religion, not as a past, but as an everlasting present,
just as the miracles in the Church did not cease, which Protes-
tants very illogically relegated to past times alone. In reality
it was these books which, as original records, needed by his-
torical investigation, but not by faith, have constantly put em-
pirical Christianity in the place of the idea, which can exist
independent of them, and is more loudly proclaimed by the
wdiole history of the modern world, in contrast to the old, than
by those books where it is still quite undeveloped. .
The spirit of the modern time aims with evident consistency
On the Study of Theology. 195
at the annihilation of all merely finite forms, and it is religion
to recognize it in this. According to this law, the condition of
a general and public life, which religion had attained more or
less in Christianity, must be evanescent, since it realizes only
a few of the purposes of the world-spirit. Protestantism arose,
and at the time of its origin was a new return of the spirit to
the non-sensuous, although this mere negative effort, beyond
the fact that it broke the continuity of the development of
Christianity, could never create a positive union and an exter-
nal symbolical manifestation of the same as a visible church.
In the place of a living authority came the authority of dead
books, written in dead languages, and as these from their very
nature could not be binding, a much more unworthy slavery,
the dependence on symbols which had a mere human authori-
ty. It was necessary that Protestantism, since it was anti-
universal in its very idea, should again fall into sects, and that
scepticism should attach itself to particular forms and to the
empirical phenomena, since the whole religion was made to con-
sist of them.
Not genial, but unbelieving ; not pious, nor yet witt} 7 and
frivolous — like the unhappy souls that Dante describes in the
limbo of the Inferno, who were neither rebellious nor true to
God, whom Heaven thrust out and Hell rejected, because even
the condemned would not own them — so, some German
savants, with the aid of a so-called "sound exegesis," of a
sceptical psychology, and lax morals, have taken away every-
thing speculative, and even subjective symbolism, from
Christianity. The belief in its divinity was built upon empiri-
cal historical arguments ; the miracle of the revelation proved
in a very manifest circle by other miracles. Since the divine,
from its very nature, is neither empirically cognizable nor
demonstrable, the naturalists, on this plane, were sure of the
game. It was already a capitulation when the investigations
into the genuineness of the Christian books, and the proof of
their inspiration from particular passages, was made the founda-
tion of theology. The reference back to the literal text of cer-
tain books necessitated the change of the whole science into
196 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
philology and the art of interpretation, by which it became
an altogether profane science, and where the palladium 01
orthodoxy is sought in the so-called science of language ; there
theology has sunk to the deepest depth, and is farthest
from its ideal. Its great point consists in taking out or
explaining away as man) 7 miracles as possible from the
Bible — as contemptible a beginning as to prove the divinity of
religion from these same empirical and meagre facts. Of what
use to get any number of them out of the way, when it is not
possible with all? for one alone would prove as much as a
thousand, if, indeed, this mode of proof had any value what-
soever.
With this philological attempt is associated the psychologi-
cal effort to explain as psychological illusions many stories,
which are evidently Jewish fables, discarded after the direction
of the Old Testament prophecies of the coming of the Messiah
(of whose source the originators leave no doubt, as is shown
by what they themselves add, viz. : " It must have happened
in order that what was written might be fulfilled ").
Closely related to the preceding is the favorite dilution-
method, by which, on pretext that certain phrases are but
expressions of oriental imagery, the shallow notions which
complacent " common sense " has of modern morals and relig-
ion are explained into them.
And finally this separation of science from speculation has
spread to public instruction, which they would make purely
moral, and without speculative ideas. Morality is, un-
doubtedly, not a characteristic of Christianity alone ; it would
not have existed in history, and in the world, for the sake of a
few moral proverbs like "Love your neighbor," etc. It is
not the fault of this common-sense understanding if such
moral preaching does lower itself still more, and teach mat-
ters of political economy. Preachers should really be, at
different times, farmers, physicians, and what not. They
should not merely recommend vaccination from the pulpit,
they should also teach the best method of raising potatoes.
I have been obliged to speak of the condition of theology,
On the Study of Theology. 197
because I could not hope to make clear what seemed neces-
sary to he said about the study of this science otherwise than
by contrasting it with the prevalent methods.
The divinity of Christianity cannot be known by any medi-
ate method ; it can only be known immediately, and in connec-
tion with the absolute view of history. Hence, among others,
the idea of a mediate revelation, except it is thought out in
behoof of a double meaning in speech, is entirely inadmissible,
because it is altogether empirical.
Everything in the study of theology, which is really a mat-
ter of empiricism, like the critical and philological treatment
of the first Christian books, is to be entirely distinct from the
study of the science in and for itself. The higher ideas can
have no influence on their interpretation, which must be as
independent as the interpretation of any other where the ques-
tion is, not whether what he says is reasonable, historically
true, or religious, but whether he really said it. On the other
hand, whether these books are genuine or not; whether the
stories they contain are really undistorted facts ; whether their
content is or is not in harmony with the idea of Christianity,
can change nothing of its reality, since it is not dependent on
this single fact, but is universal and absolute. And if Chris-
tianity itself were not understood as a mere phenomenon in
time, the interpretation would have long since been given up,
and we should have advanced much farther in the historical
appreciation of the documents so important in its early history,
and should not have continued to seek so many by-paths and
labyrinths in a matter so simple.
The essential thing in the study of theology is the union of
the speculative and historical construction of Christianity and
its principal doctrines.
First, in place of the exoteric and literal put the esoteric
and spiritual elements of Christianity, although this beginning
contradicts the evident intention of the early teachers, and of
the Church itself: for both were at all times agreed in protest-
ing against the entrance of evervthing which was not the con-
cern of all mankind and completely exoteric. It proves a
right feeling, a secure consciousness of what the early found-
198 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
ers, as well as the modern leaders of Christianity, must have
desired, that they deliberately kept away whatever could be
prejudicial to its publicity, expressly excluding it as heresy,
as inimical to its universality. Even among those who be-
longed to the Church and the orthodoxy, those who insisted
most strenuously on the letter, acquired the greatest authority,
and it was they who really made Christianity a universal relig-
ious form. Only the letter of the Occident could give body
and outward shape to the ideal principle from the Orient, as
the light of the sun, acting upon the earth, causes to grow
thereon the noblest organic products.
But this very condition, which originated the first forms of
Christianity, after these forms, in accordance with the law of
finitude, have fallen into decay, and it is a plain impossibility
to maintain Christianity in the exoteric shape, returns anew.
The esoteric side must therefore stand out, and, freed of its cov-
ering, shine for itself. The eternal, living spirit of all culture
and creation will clothe it in new and more enduring forms,
since there is no lack of a material in contrast with the ideal.
The Occident and the Orient have approached in one and the
same culture, and everywhere, where two opposites touch,
new life is kindled. In the ruthlessness with which it has
allowed the most beautiful, but finite forms to fall into decay,
after the withdrawal of their life-principle, the spirit of the
modern world has sufficiently revealed its purpose, which is
to bring forth the infinite in ever new forms. It has also just
as clearly testified that it is not Christianity as a single, empir-
ical phenomenon which it wishes, but as that eternal idea
itself. The lineaments of Christianity, not limited to the past,
but spread out over all time, are plainly enough to be recog-
nized in poetry and philosophy. The former claims religion
as the supreme, indeed the only possibility of the poetic re-
conciliation ; the latter, with the truly speculative standpoint,
has again conquered that of religion, has annihilated empiri-
cism, and its brother, naturalism, not only in part, but com-
pletely, and in itself has prepared the way for the new birth
of esoteric Christianity and the evangel of the Absolute.
The Spatial Quale. 199
THE SPATIAL QUALE.
AN ANSWER BY J. E. CABOT.
In the interesting and instructive article, of this title, con-
tributed by Dr. James to the January number of the Jour-
nal, he takes occasion to object to ray description of Space,
in the shape in which this notion first dawns upon conscious-
ness, as not sufficiently accurate. It is not, he says, the in-
definite otherness of the objects of perception, but a quite dis-
tinct sort of otherness, due to a special form of sensibility
which certain objects awaken in us. As to this, I do not see
that we disagree ; indeed, I think he ought to go still further
than he does, and make his distinction deeper — a distinction
of categories, and not merely of kinds within the same cate-
gory. For I hold the feeling of Space to be the first appear-
ance of Quantity, and thus the first intimation of external ref-
erence among feelings previously qualitative.
Without sharing Berkeley's view, that the external world is
only states of our own consciousness, we may suppose that to
some of the lower animals, or even to man in the earlier
stages of his development, it would so appear, if they could
have a clear view of their own mental situation. To an
oyster, we may suppose the universe consists of various affec-
tions of the oyster, more or less distinctly classified by their
different characters or qualities, as they are felt or remem-
bered. To such a consciousness, the only grounds of relation
among its facts would be these characters. Things would be
known as pleasant, gratifying, etc., or the reverse, and the
on\y place of their existence would be consciousness itself. I
do not mean that there would be no feeling of position ; a
polyp, e. g. , shows that he has this feeling by searching about for
a morsel of food that has escaped him — I only mean that
there is probably no reflexion upon the feeling ; there is ap-
prehension of external things, but no apprehension of exter-
nality.
But, however this may be, for I am not concerned here to
200 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
prove that there is :i merely qualitative consciousness, I only
concede that there may be ; admitting that there is, there
must come at a certain stage of development the intimation
of relations wholly untranslateable into terms of Quality,
other distinctions cutting right across the former ones, and in
virtue of which a feeling may be at the same time different
from itself, and different feelings may coincide, and this with-
out any disturbance of their quality ; a consciousness of much-
ness or many-ness in, say, the single color " blue," or the feel-
in<>- " warmth/' or again, the feeling that the " blue " is also
" warm."
The human mind, as we see, relieves itself from this embar-
rassment by the hypothesis of external objects, which are
able, as it were, to hold apart identical feelings, and to
identify different ones ; so that we tind no difficulty e. g. in
the tact that the tire gives us warmth and light from all its
parts at once. But a more accurate psychology, reflecting
that these feelings are not in the fire, but in us ; and further,
that the being in us, the sensibility in which they are mani-
fested, is not the mere form, but the very substance of knowl-
edge, the fact known as distinguished from the inferences w T e
may draw from it — such a psychology, I say, finds it neces-
sary to suppose that this further determination, this muchness
or collaterally of the feeling, if it is real, is also a quality,
an ultimate characteristic, which is given in it, as the charac-
ter " blue " or "■ warm " is given in the sensible impression.
When the attempt is made, however, to point out the Quale
of position, or extent, it seems so difficult even to make it
clear to ourselves that there can be such a Quale — that is, a
tixed character of being other than itself, of having dimen-
sions which are not dimensions of blueness, warmth, etc., but
only express that there is more of the same — that it is not
surprising to find many psychologists preferring to suppose
that the apparently simple fact of collaterality, or simul-
taneous otherness in a sensation, is really a complex fact, the
indiscriminate impression of several feelings, some answering
to the sameness and others to the difference, brought together
as one — as e. g. in the consciousness of motion, in which
The Spatial Quale. 201
several sensations overlap each other, and so are at once iden-
tified and discriminated, or again, in the coexistence of differ-
ent retinal impressions, etc.
This theory, however, either assumes spatial position to
begin with — points from which motion starts, or in which reti-
nal impressions are localized, etc., and then there is no explana-
tion but only a statement of the fact to be explained — or else
it merely states a contradiction without solving it ; for if these
different determinations of the same feeling really meet, they
must abolish each other; blue cannot be anything but blue,
or warmth than warmth, without ceasing to exist. If they do
not meet, but merely coexist, as a sound, a scent, and a taste
may co-exist, or several sounds be heard at once — this has
nothing to do with extent.
Yet the fact remains that this breadth, this collateral subdi-
vision belongs to all our sensations alike, as something perfectly
distinct from their protractedness, number, or intensity — in
short, from airy contrast inside of the particular quality. In
the view of a uniformly whitened wall, or the feel of a smooth
marble slab, there is no contrast of feelings, jet there is ex-
tent, and equally in the smallest of their parts, in the mini-
mum visible or tangible as truly as in the widest horizon.
Various circumstances — variety of color, consciousness of
movement, etc. — may call our attention to this breadth or en-
able us to measure it, but it is there before.
There is nothing for it, then, Dr. James considers, but to ac-
cept this primordial bigness as an ultimate quality of sensa-
tions, and of every sensation. The excitement of any extended
part of the body, he says, is felt as extended — why, we cannot
say. A punctiform organ could not give us the feeling of
Space.
By a punctiform organ he means, I suppose, one whereby we
should receive sensations having position, but no extent ; a
sensation say of blue, which is not spread out upon a surface,
a feeling of warmth not pervading any body. But then, I ask,
what would be wanting to such a sensation — what would have
to be added in order that it should give us the impression of
extent ? Only, it seems to me, that the relation to other points,
202 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
which is implied in its position, should be made explicit and
visible, or tangible. It cannot really have position except by
relation to other things, and all that is needed is that this fact
should be felt. And such is our actual case. Things are not
seen as blue, or felt as warm, except somewhere with regard to
other impressions, or without their parts being somewhere with
regard to the others. They are all somewhere in particular,
not merety somewhere in general.
Now, what is this but saying that the qualities of our sensa-
tions, are not ultimate or absolute, but relative ; that we have
no experience of things existing by themselves ; that such ex-
istence is a mental abstraction, not a reality?
If Dr. James means only that extent may be seen or felt, I
quite agree, and even that it may be heard, tasted, and smelt.
There is a difference, however, in the readiness with which we
ascribe extent to the affection of various organs, and this dif-
ference is instructive. Thus, we feel some hesitation, as Dr.
James remarks, in speaking of spacious tastes, or voluminous
sounds, or pains. Yet there are voluminous sounds, like the
rolling of thunder ; and extensive pains, like the pain of lum-
bago ; and others that are fine or attenuated, like the prick of
a pin, or the squeak of a slate-pencil. This proves, he con-
siders, that they all must have some extent or spatial bulk.
Dr. James does not mean that a pain could be halved and
quartered, and its separate parts set up at the right or the left
of each other. That is to say, he does not mean that it is a
thing having extent or bulk ; what he means, I take it, is that
in every sensation, over and above the particular quality of
blue, warm, etc., a sign is given us, which we are apt to over-
look because the import is of more practical moment to us
than the sign, but which indicates objective determinations of
things. Thus it is that the same extent of excited retina can
susfo-est the most various directions or sizes of the object, ac-
cording to the circumstances — i. e., according to the inter-
pretation. This is equally true of all our sensations ; but, in
the case of the impressions of sight and touch, we are so con-
stantly engaged in interpreting the signs they give us that we
pass at once to the thing signified, and take for granted that
The Spatial Quale. 203
the nervous affection is the quality of an object — the shock
communicated to the retina, a flash of light ; the pea between
the crossed fingers, two peas, etc. — whereas, in the case of a
taste, a sound, or a pain, there is more distinct survival of the
subjective affection.
But if this, or anything like it, is Dr. James's position, as I
gather from page 84 of his article that it is, then I do not
see why he should expect to find in the sign, as one of its
native qualities, before it becomes a sign, the objective deter-
minations of the thing signified, any more than he would expect
to find in the wood of a finger-post the native tendency to set
people on the right road. The thing does not exist until it is
so used. And so of extent, it does not exist until those rela-
tions of which it consists are in some degree determined by
the mind. I do not say that it is a conscious construction, in
which separate positions are first distinguished and then
brought into relations with each other. On the contrary, I
hold the perception that the positions cannot exist without the
relations, or the relations without the positions, to be the per-
ception of Space ; and that this confused, self-contradictory
feeling, when it is accounted for and its contradictions solved
by means of an adequate hypothesis, becomes the notion of
Space.
Of course, it is possible to imagine ourselves resting content
with the feeling, and this seems to be a favorite procedure
with the physiological psychologists. We may, if we please,
consider the extent of a scarlet nasturtium as a fact of the
same order with its color. That is to say, we may, and often
do, stop at the fact that each is an impression, a something
felt — and this being sufficient for our purpose, we may neg-
lect to inquire farther into what is implied in this fact. Only,
I say, this is not philosophizing. It is not the office of philos-
ophy to lead us to feel our thoughts (however useful this may
sometimes be, from another point of view), but to teach us to
understand our feelings — to find out what they signify, what
notions they imply, or what conclusions they oblige us to
adopt. In this direction — that is, in the attempt to dis-
cover what our feeling of extension means, or what Space
204 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy
really is — I do not see that the facts cited by Dr. James,
showing that we feel extent or motion without knowing what
they are, help us much. He says he is not conscious ot any
mental act of creation or production whereby the notion of
Space is put together out of non-spatial feelings. Neither, I
suppose, is he cognizant of the exact height of the stairs he
daily traverses. But his foot is ; and were the quarter of an
inch added to one of them, his foot would not fail to apprise
him of it. Now, such a fact as this he could verify with a car-
penter's rule, but there are other facts of which our feelings
apprise us which cannot be verified by a carpenter's rule, and
as to these the question may arise, whether they are real or
whether they are only feelings.
Such a fact is this of extent or spatial existence. The car-
penter's rule can tell us how much ; but, in the first place, is
there any much in the case, or how can there be ; at any rate,
how can we know for certain that there is, when our feelings ap-
prise us only of their own existence? How can they tell us that
something else is? If we are satisfied with the fact that they
do tell us, we may neglect the farther inquiry. But it is the
whole business of philosophy. As Dr. James says, the impor-
tant question is, Do the native forms of sensibility yield us a
priori propositions, .synthetic judgments? If they do not, one
does not see what call there is to continue this laborious trifling.
The Science of Education. 205
THE SCIENCE OF EDUCATION.
[analysis of the first part of rosenkranz's "pedagogics as a system,"
with a commentary on certain paragraphs. to accompany the para-
phrase published in this journal, january and july, 1878.]
Analysis and Commentary.
§ 1. Pedagogics is not a complete, independent science by itself.
It borrows the results of other sciences [e. g., it presupposes the
science of Rights, treating of the institutions of the family and civil
society, as well as of the State ; it presupposes the scien ;e of anthro-
pology, in which is treated the relations of the human mind to nature.
Nature conditions the development of the individual human being.
But the history of the individual and the history of the race presents
a continual emancipation from nature, and a continual growth into
freedom, i. <?., into ability to know himself and to realize himself in
the world by making the matter and forces of the world his instruments
and tools. Anthropology shows us how man as a natural being —
i. e., as having a body — is limited. There is climate, involving heat
and cold and moisture, the seasons of the year, etc. ; there is organic
growth, involving birth, growth, reproduction, and decay ; there is
race, involving the limitations of heredity ; there is the telluric life
of the planet and the circulation of the forces of the solar sys-
tem, whence arise the processes of sleeping, waking, dreaming, and
kindred phenomena; there is the emotional nature of man, involving
his feelings, passions, instincts, and desires ; then there are the five
senses, and their conditions. Then, there is the science of phenom-
enology, treating of the steps by which mind rises from the stage of
mere feeling and sense-perception to that of self-consciousness, i. e.,
to a recognition of mind as true substance, and of matter as mere
phenomenon created by Mind (God). Then, there is psychol-
ogy, including the treatment of the stages of activity of mind, as
so-called " faculties" of the mind, e. g., attention, sense-perception,
imagination, conception, understanding, judgment, reason, and the like.
Psychology is generally made (by English writers) to include, also,
what is here called anthropology and phenomenology. After psychol-
ogy, there is the science of ethics, or of morals and customs ; then, the
206 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
Science of Rights, already mentioned ; then, Theology, or the Science
of Religion, and, after all these, there is Philosophy, or the Science of
Science. Now, it is clear that the Science of Education treats of
the process of development, by and through which man, as a merely
natural being, becomes spirit, or self-conscious mind ; hence, it
presupposes all the sciences named, and will be defective if it ignores
nature, or mind, or any stage or process of either, especially An-
thropology, Phenomenology, Psychology, Ethics, Rights, ^Esthetics,
or Science of Art and Literature, Religion, or Philosophy].
§ 2. The scope of pedagogics being so broad and its presuppositions
so vast, its limits are not well defined, and its treatises are very apt
to lack logical sequence and conclusion ; and, indeed, frequently to
be mere collections of unjustified and unexplained assumptions,
dogmatically set forth. Hence the low repute of pedagogical litera-
ture as a whole.
§ 3. Moreover, education furnishes a special vocation, that of
teaching. (All vocations are specializing — being cut off, as it were,
from the total life of man. The "division of labor" requires that
each individual shall concentrate his endeavors and be a part of the
whole).
§ 4. Pedagogics, as a special science, belongs to the collection of
sciences (already described, in commenting on § 1) included under
the philosophy of Spirit or Mind, and more particularly to that part
of it which relates to the will (ethics and science of rights, rather
to the part relating to the intellect and feeling, as anthropology,
phenomenology, psychology, aesthetics, and religion. "Theoretical"
relates to the intellect, "practical" relates to the will, in this phil-
osophy). The province of practical philosophy is the investigation
of the nature of freedom, and the process of securing it by self-
emancipation from nature. Pedagogics involves the conscious exer-
tion of influence on the part of the will of the teacher upon the will
of the pupil, with a purpose in view — that of inducing the pupil to
form certain prescribed habits, and adopt prescribed views and in-
clinations. The entire science of mind (as above shown), is pre-
supposed by the science of education, and must be kept constantly
in view as a guiding light. The institution of the family (treated in
practical philosophy) is the starting-point of education, and without
this institution properly realized, education would find no solid
foundation. The right to be educated on the part of children, and
the duty to educate on the part of parents, are reciprocal ; and there
is no family life so poor and rudimentary that it does not furnish the
The Science of Education. 207
most important elements of education — no matter what the subse-
quent influence of the school, the vocation, and the state.
§ 5. Pedagogics as science, distinguished from the same as an art:
the former containing the abstract general treatment, and the latter
taking into consideration all the conditions of concrete individuality,
e. g., the peculiarities of the teacher and the pupil, and all the local
circumstances, and the power of adaptation known as "tact."
§ 6. The special conditions and peculiarities, considered in educa-
tion as an art, may be formulated and reduced to system, but they
should not be introduced as a part of the science of education.
§ 7. Pedagogics has three parts : first, it considers the idea and
nature of education, and arrives at its true definition ; second, it pre-
sents and describes the special provinces into which the entire field
of education is divided ; third, it considers the historical evolution of
education by the human race, and the individual systems of educa-
tion that have arisen, flourished, and decayed, and their special func-
tions in the life of man.
§ 8. The scope of the first part is easy to define. The history of
pedagogics, of course, contains all the ideas or definitions of the
nature of education ; but it must not for that reason be substituted
for the scientific investigation of the nature of education, which alone
should constitute this first part (and the history of education be
reserved for the third part).
§ 9. The second part includes a discussion of the threefold nature
of man as body, intellect, and will. The difficulty in this part of the
science is very great, because of its dependence upon other sciences
(e. g., upon physiology, anthropology, etc.), and because of the
temptation to go into details (e. g., in the practical] department, to
consider the endless varieties of schools for arts and trades).
§ 10. The third part contains the exposition of the various
national standpoints furnished (in the history of the world) for the
bases of particular systems of education. In each of these systems
will be found the general idea underlying all education, but it will be
found existing under special modifications, which have arisen through
its application to the physical, intellectual, and Jethical conditions of
the people. But we can deduce the essential ^features of the differ-
ent systems that may appear in history, for there are only a limited
number of systems possible. Each lower form finds itself comple-
mented in some higher form, and its function and purpose then become
manifest. The systems of "national]" education (L e., Asiatic sys-
tems, in which the individuality of each person is swallowed up in the
208 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
substantiality of the national idea — just as the individual waves get
lost in the ocean on whose surface they arise) find their complete ex-
planation in the systems of education that arise in Christianity (the
preservation of human life being the object of the nation, it follows
that when realized abstractly or exclusively, it absorbs and annuls the
mental independence of its subjects, and thus contradicts itself by
destroying the essence of what it undertakes to preserve, i. e., life
(soul, mind) ; but within Christianity the principle of the state is
found so modified that it is consistent with the infinite, untram-
melled development of the individual, intellectually and morally, and
thus not only life is saved, but spiritual, free life is attainable for
each and for all).
§ 11. The histoiy of pedagogy ends with the present system as
the latest one. As science sees the future ideally contained in the
present, it is bound to comprehend the latest system as a realization
(though imperfect) of the ideal system of education. Hence, the
system, as scientifically treated in the first part of our work, is the
system with which the third part of our work ends.
§ 12. The nature of education, its form, its limits, are now to be
investigated. (§§ 13-50.)
§ 13. The nature of education determined by the nature of Mind
or Spirit, whose activity is always devoted to realizing for itself what
it is potentially — to becoming conscious of its possibilities, and to
getting them under the control of its will. Mind is potentially free.
Education is the means by which man seeks to realize in man his
possibilities (to develop the possibilities of the race in each indi-
vidual). Hence, education has freedom for its object.
§ 14. Man is the only being capable of education, in the sense
above defined, because the only conscious being. He must know
himself ideally, and then realize his ideal self, in order to become
actually free. The animals not the plants may be trained, or culti-
vated, but, as devoid of self-consciousness (even the highest animals
not getting above impressions, not reaching ideas, not seizing gen-
eral or abstract thoughts), they are not realized for themselves, but
only for us. (That is, they do not know their ideal as we do.)
§ 15. Education, taken in its widest compass, is the education of
the human race by Divine Providence.
§ 16. In a narrower sense, education is applied to the shaping of
the individual, so that his caprice and arbitrariness shall give place to
rational habits and views, in harmony with nature and ethical cus-
toms. He must not abuse nature, nor slight the ethical code of his
The Science of Education. 209
people, nor despise the gifts of Providence (whether for weal or
woe), unless he is willing to be crushed in the collision with these
moi - e substantial elements.
§ 17. In the narrowest, but most usual application of the term,
we understand by "education " the influence of the individual upon
the individual, exerted with the object of developing his powers in a
conscious and methodical manner, either generally or in special
directions, the educator being relatively mature, and exercising
authority over the relatively immature pupil. Without authority on
the one hand and obedience on the other, education would lack
its ethical basis — a neglect of the will-training could not be com-
pensated for by any amount of knowledge or smartness.
§ 18. The general province of education includes the development
of the individual into the theoretical and practical reason immanent
in him. The definition which limits education to the development of
the individual into ethical customs (obedience to morality, social
conventionalities, and the laws of the state — Hegel's definition is
here referred to : " The object of education is to make men ethical ")
is not comprehensive enough, because it ignores the side of the intel-
lect* and takes note only of the will. The individual should not only
be man in general (as he is through the adoption of moral and
ethical forms — which are general forms, customs, or laws, and thus
the forms imposed by the will of the race), but he should also be
a self-conscious subject, a particular individual (man, through his
intellect, exists for himself as an individual, while through his general
habits and customs he loses his individuality and spontaneity).
§ 19. Education has a definite object in view and it proceeds by
grades of progress toward it. The systematic tendency is essential
to all education, property so called.
§ 20. Division of labor has become requisite in the higher spheres
of teaching. The growing multiplicity of branches of knowledge
creates the necessity for the specialist as teacher. With this tendency
to specialties it becomes more and more difficult to preserve what
is so essential to the pupil — his rounded human culture and symmetry
of development. The citizen of modern civilization sometimes
appears to be an artificial product by the side of the versatility of
the savage man.
§ 21. From this necessity of the division of labor in modern times
there arises the demand for two kinds of educational institutions —
those devoted to general education (common schools, colleges, etc.),
and special schools (for agriculture, medicine, mechanic arts, etc).
XIII — 14
210 The Journal of /Speculative Philosophy .
§ 22. The infinite possibility of culture for the individual leaves,
of course, his actual accomplishment a mere approximation to a
complete education. Born idiots are excluded from the possibility of
education, because the lack of universal ideas in their consciousness
precludes to that class of unfortunates anything beyond a mere
mechanical training.
§ 23. Spirit, or mind, makes its own nature ; it is what it pro-
duces — a self-result. From this follows the form of education. It
commences with (1) undeveloped mind — that of the infant — wherein
nearly all is potential, and but little is actualized; (2) its first stage
of development is self-estrangement — it is absorbed in the observa-
tion of objects around it; (3) but it discovers laws and principles
(universality) in external nature, and finally identifies them with rea-
son — it comes to recognize itself in nature — to recognize conscious
mind as the creator and preserver of the external world — and thus
becomes at home in nature. Education does not create, but it eman-
cipates.
§ 24. This process of self-estrangement and its removal belongs to
all culture. The mind must fix its attention upon what is foreign to
it, and penetrate its disguise. It will discover its own substance
under the seeming alien being. Wonder is the accompaniment of this
stage of estrangement. The love of travel and adventure arises from
this basis.
§ 25. Labor is distinguished from play: The former concentrates
its energies on some object, with the purpose of making it conform to
its will and purpose ; play occupies itself with its object according to
its caprice and arbitrariness, and has no care for the results or pro-
ducts of its activity ; work is prescribed by authority, while play is
necessarily spontaneous.
§ 26. Work and Play: the distinction between them. In play the
child feels that he has entire control over the object with which he is
dealing, both in respect to its existence and the object for which it
exists. His arbitrary will may change both with perfect impunity,
since all depends upon his caprice ; he exercises his powers in play ac-
cording to his natural proclivities, and therein finds scope to devel-
ope his own individuality. In work, on the contrary, he must have
respect for the object with which he deals. It must be held sacred
against his caprice, must not be destroyed nor injured in any
way, and its object must likewise be respected. His own personal
inclinations must be entirely subordinated, and the business that he
is at work upon must be carried forward in accordance with its
The Science of Education. 211
own ends and aims, and without reference to his own feelings in the
matter.
Thus work teaches the pupil the lesson of self-sacrifice (the right
of superiority which the general interest possesses over the particular),
while play develops his personal idiosyncrasy.
§ 27. Without play, the child would become more and more a ma-
chine, and lose all freshness and spontaneity — all originality. With-
out work, he would develop into a monster of caprice and arbitrari-
ness.
From the fact that man must learn to combine with man, in order
that the individual may avail himself of the experience and labors
of his fellow-men, self-sacrifice for the sake of combination is the
great lesson of life. But as this should be voluntary self-sacrifice,
education must train the child equally in the two directions of spon-
taneity and obedience. The educated man finds recreation in change
of work.
§ 28. Education seeks to assimilate its object — -to make what
was alien and strange to the pupil into something familiar and habitual
to him. [The pupil is to attack, one after the other, the foreign
realms in the world of nature and man, and conquer them for his own,
so that he can be "at home " in them. It is the necessary condition
of all growth, all culture, that one widens his own individuality by
this conquest of new provinces alien to him. By this the individual
transcends the narrow limits of particularity and becomes generic —
the individual becomes the species. A good definition of education
is this: it is the process by which the individual man elevates himself
to the species.] .
§ 29. (1) Therefore, the first requirement in education is that the
pupil shall acquire the habit of subordinating his likes and dislikes to
the attainment of a rational object.
It is necessary that he shall acquire this indifference to his own
pleasure, even by employing his powers on that which does not ap-
peal to his interest in the remotest degree.
§ 30. Habit soon makes us familiar with those subjects which
seemed so remote from our personal interest, and they become agree-
able to us. The objects, too, assume a new interest upon nearer ap-
proach, as being useful or injurious to us. That is useful which serves
us as a means for the realization of a rational purpose; injurious, if
it hinders such realization. It happens that objects are useful in one
sense and injurious in another, and vice versa. Education must
make the pupil capable of deciding on the usefulness of an object, by
reference to its effect on his permanent vocation in life.
212 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
§31. But good and evil are the ethical distinctions which furnish
the absolute standard to which to refer the question of the usefulness
of objects and actions.
§ 32. (2) Habit is (a) passive, or (b) active. The passive habit
is that which gives us the power to retain our equipoise of mind in the
midst of a world of changes (pleasure and pain, grief and joy, etc).
The active habit gives us skill, presence of mind, tact in emergen-
cies, etc.
§ 33. (3) Education deals altogether with the formation of habits.
For it aims to make some condition or form of activity into a second
nature for the pupil. But this involves, also, the breaking up of previ-
ous habits. This power to break up habits, as well as to form them,
is necessary to the freedom of the individual.
§ 34. Education deals with these complementary relations (an-
titheses) : (a) authority and obedience; (b) rationality {general
forms) and individuality ; (c) work and play ; (d) habit (general cus-
tom) and spontaneity. The development and reconciliation of these
opposite sides in the pupil's character, so that they become his second
nature, removes the phase of constraint which at first accompanies
the formal inculcation of rules, and the performance of prescribed
tasks. The freedom of the pupil is the ultimate object to be kept in
view, but a too early use of freedom may work injury to the pupil.
To remove a pupil from all temptation would be to remove possi-
bilities of growth in strength to resist it; on the other hand, to ex-
pose him needlessly to temptation is fiendish.
§ 35. Deformities of character in the pupil should be carefully
traced back to their origin, so that they may be explained by their
history. Only by comprehending the historic growth of an organic
defect are we able to prescribe the best remedies.
§ 36. If the negative behavior of the pupil (his bad behavior)
results from ignorance due to his own neglect, or to his wilfulness,
it should be met directly by an act of authority on the part of the
teacher (and without an appeal to reason). An appeal should be
made to the understanding of the pupil only when he is somewhat
mature, or shows by his repetition of the offence that his proclivity
is deep-seated, and requires an array of all good influences to rein-
force his feeble resolutions to amend.
§ 37. Reproof, accompanied by threats of punishment, is apt to de-
generate into scolding.
§ 38. After the failure of other means, punishment should be re-
sorted to. Inasmuch as the punishment should be for the purpose of
making the pupil realize that it is the consequence of his deed return
The Science of Education. 213
ing on himself, it should always be administered for some particular
act of his, and this should be specified. The *' overt act " is the only
thing which a man can be held accountable for in a court of justice;
although it is true that the harboring of evil thoughts or intentions is a
sin, yet it is not a crime until realized in an overt act.
§ 40. Punishment should be regulated, not by abstract rules, but in
view of the particular case and its attending circumstances.
§ 41. Sex and age of pupil should be regarded in prescribing the
mode and degree of punishment. Corporal punishment is best for
pupils who are very immature in mind ; when they are more developed
they may be punished by any imposed restraint upon their free wills
which will isolate them from the ordinary routine followed by their
fellow-pupils. (Deprivation of the right to do as others do is a
wholesome species of punishment for those old or mature enough to
feel its effects, for it tends to secure respect for the regular tasks by
elevating them to the rank of rights and privileges.) For young men
and women, the punishment should be of a kind that is based on a
sense of honor.
§ 42. (1) Corporal punishment should be properly administered by
means of the rod, subduing wilful defiance by the application of
force.
§ 43. (2) Isolation makes the pupil realize a sense of his depend-
ence upon human society, and upon the expression of this dependence
by cooperation in the common tasks. Pupils should not be shut up in a
darkroom, nor removed from the personal supervision of the teacher.
(To shut up two or more in a room without supervision is not isola-
tion, but association ; only it is association for mischief, and not for
study. )
§ 44. (3) Punishment based on the sense of honor may or may
not be based on isolation. It implies a state of maturity on the part
of the pupil. Through his offence the pupil has destroyed his
equality with his fellows, and has in reality, in his inmost nature,
isolated himself from them. Corporal punishment is external,
but it may be accompanied with a keen sense of dishonor. Isolation,
also, may, to a pupil, who is sensitive to honor, be a severe blow to
self-respect. But a punishment founded entirely on the sense of
honor would be wholly internal, and have no external 'discomfort
attached to it.
§ 45. The necessity of carefully adapting the punishment to the
■age and maturity of the pupil, renders it the most difficult part of the
teacher's duties. It is essential that the air and manner of the
teacher who punishes should be that of one who acts from a sense of
214 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
painful duty, and not from any delight in being the cause of suffer-
ing. Not personal likes and dislikes, but the rational necessitj- which
is over teacher and pupil alike, causes the infliction of pain on the
pupil.
§ 46. Punishment is the final topic to be considered under the head
of "Form of Education."
In the act of punishment the teacher abandons the legitimate prov-
ince of education, which seeks to make the pupil rational or obedient
to what is reasonable, as a habit, and from his own free will. The pupil
is punished in order that he may be made to conform to the rational,
by the application of constraint. Another will is substituted for the
pupil's, and good behavior is produced, but not by the pupil's free
act. While education finds a negative limit in punishment, it
finds a positive limit in the accomplishment of its legitimate object,
which is the emancipation of the pupil from the state of imbecility,
as regards mental and moral self-control, into the ability to direct
himself rationally, When the pupil has acquired the discipline which
enables him to direct his studies properly, and to control his inclina-
tions in such a manner as to pursue his work regularly, the teacher
is no longer needed for him — he becomes his own teacher.
There may be two extreme views on this subject — the one tending
towards the negative extreme of requiring the teacher to do every-
thing for the pupil, substituting his will for that of the pupil, and
the other view tending to the positive extreme, and leaving everything
to the pupil, even before his will is trained into habits of self-control,
or his mind provided with the necessary elementary branches
requisite for the prosecution of further study.
§ 47. (1) The subjective limit of education (on the negative
side) is to be found in the individuality of the pupil — the limit to his
natural capacity.
§ 48. (2) The objective limit to education lies in the amount of
time that the person may devote to his training. It, therefore,
depends largely upon wealth, or other fortunate circumstances.
§ 49. (3) The absolute limit of education is the positive limit
(see § 46), beyond which the youth passes into freedom from the
school, as a necessary instrumentality for further culture.
§ 50. The pre-arranged pattern-making work of the school is now
done, but self-education may and should go on indefinitely, and will
go on if the education of the school has really arrived at its " abso-
lute " limit — L e., has fitted the pupil for self-education. Emanci-
pation from the school does not emancipate one from learning
through his fellow-men.
Notes and Discussions. 215
