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THE JOURNAL
O F
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.
VOLUME XX.
EDITED BY WM. T. HARRIS.
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
LONDON : Triibner and Company.
1886.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1887, by
WILLIAM T. HARRIS.
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
i*n
i-0
CONTENTS.
PAGE
Agnostic Realism, W. L. Sheldon, 270
Albee, John, Book Notice of D. J. Snider's Agamemnon's Daughter, 106
Aristotle, Course of Study in, and Bibliography, Concord School of Philosophy
for 1887, 426
Blood, Benjamin Paul, Philosophic Reveries, 1
Blow, Susan E., Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul (Tr.), 88, 310
Books Received, Ill, 444
Bruno, Giordano, Hegel on (Tr.), Edwin D. Mead, 206
Butler, Nicholas Murray, The Problem of Kant's " Kritik der reinen Vernunft," . 54
Champlin, Virginia, Notice of Revue Philosophique, 333
Channing, William Ellery, Sentences in Prose and Verse, 105, 221, 332
Classification of the Mathematical Sciences, J. M. Long, 417
Concord Summer School of Philosophy, The, Course of Study in Aristotle, and
■ Bibliography, 426
Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus (Reprinted from Everard's Tr.), . . 225, 337
Everard's Translation of the Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegisw^RVnlinlO 225, 337
Fischer, Professor Kuno, A Critique on Kantian Philosophy (Tr.), W. S. Hough\ 151, 283
Goeschel, Carl Friedrich, On the Immortality of the Soul (Tr.^ 1 . . 8. E. Blow, 88, 310
Hebberd, S. S., The Nature of Thought 113
Hegel's Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion (Tr.), . . . F. L. Soldan, 301, 407
Hegel on Giordano Bruno (Tr.), Edwin D. Mead, 206
Hermes Trismegistus, his Divine Pymander (Reprint), 225, 337
Hough, W. S., A Critique on Kantian Philosophy (Tr.), by Professor Kuno
Fischer, 151, 283
Immortality of the Soul, C. F. Goeschel on (Tr.), S. E. Blow, 88, 310
James, William, The Perception of Time, 374
Jastrow, Joseph, On the Symbolic System of Lambert, 194
Kant on the Infinite Divisibility of Space (Tr.), Professor John Watson, . . . . 219'
Kant's Philosophy criticised by Professor Kuno Fischer (Tr.), . W. S. Rough, 151, 283
Kant's " Kritik der reinen Vernunft," The Problem of, . . Nicholas M. Butler 54
La Revue Philosophique for 1881, Notice of Contents by . . . . V. Champlin, 33 3
Lambert, On the Symbolic System of, Joseph Jastrow, 194
Long, J. M., Classification of the Mathematical Sciences, 417
Mathematical Sciences, Classification of the, J. M. Long, 417
Mead, Edwin D., Hegel on Giordano Bruno (Tr.), 206
IV
Contents.
Mitchell, Ellen M., The Philosophy of Pessimism 187
Morris, Professor George S., Editor of Papers published at Michigan University, . 331
Pessimism, The Philosophy of, Ellen M. Mitchell, 18V
Philosophic Reveries, Benjamin Paul Blood, 1
Philosophy of Kant in Extracts, Letter from Professor Watson, 330 *
Primary Qualities of Matter, The So-called, J. M. Riggs, 73
Religion, Introduction to the Philosophy of, by Hegel (Tr.), . . F. L. Soldan, 301, 407
Riggs, J. M., The So-called Primary Qualities of Matter, 73
Sentences in Prose and Verse, Selected by W. E. Charming, 105, 221, 332
Sheldon, W. L., Agnostic Realism, 270
Snider, Denton J., Agamemnon's Daughter, Book Notice by . . . John Albee, 106
Soldan, F. Louis, Hegel's Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion (Tr.), . 301, 407
Space, Infinite Divisibility of, by Kant (Tr.), John Watson, 219;
Thought, The Nature of, 8. S. Hebberd, 113
Time, The Perception of, William James, 374.
Watson, John, Kant on the Infinite Divisibility of Space (Tr.), 219
" " His Philosophy of Kant in Extracts (noticed) 224
" " Letter from, On the Philosophy of Kant in Extracts, 330
THE JOURNAL
OF
T
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY
Vol. XX.] January, 1886. [Xo. 1.
PHILOSOPHICAL KEVEKIES.
BY BENJAMIN PAUL BLOOD.
OF THE INEVITABLE GENERALLY.
I call these reveries, rather than conclusions or any other de-
cisive name, not as holding that modesty offers any special prom-
ise of merit — much less as imitating the caution of the ostrich
that hides its head in the sand, and leaves its body as obtrusive
as ever — but rather as considering the fate by my own judgment
of my own confident expression heretofore, and also the quasi
shortcoming of all other philosophers in leaving to this late day
anything at all worth saying. Gladly I would side with Nicias
in the position that courage is due to knowledge, had not experi-
ence proved, in my own case, that a false conceit of knowledge
may be as bold as knowledge itself; for boldness has an immedi-
ate charm of its own, whether in good or ill. We enjoy the
effrontery of Falstaff, in his boast of being witty in himself and
a cause that wit was in other men ; and we cheer bravely those
Dioscuri of old who stood in the streets of Athens and engaged
themselves to outwit all comers ; for whatever may be said of
modesty — which is not much, save as modesty mav be due to cir-
XX— 1
2 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
cu inspection — courage is by far the more charming quality of the
two. Furthermore, it is ever the egoism of any exploit that gives
it human interest. The man with a gift — the lightning calcu-
lator, the boy preacher, the phenomenal medium generally- — gets
no love. But unfortunately for the true and lasting fame of the
immediate courage instanced here, time has turned the ground of
it into comparative negation ; and although the best of men,
speaking not by the card, may still be undone by equivocation, it
is safe saying those " men of Thiirii " were not so knowing of all
things as they esteemed themselves. Their circle met, and was
true, but it was comparatively small. And when one has himself
written much to be sorry for, and over many long-fondled conclu-
sions has scored a common epitaph — Too soon at last — he may well
doubt that immediacy and true judgment dwell together. When,
too, he remembers the many philosophical circles which in their
clays seemed coincident with the utmost horizon of thought, but
which have been since transcended, stone after stone having been
venturously cast into the mist beyond, until the once-unknown
has become a common causeway, with depots of supply for excur-
sions not dreamed of then, he should perceive that philosophy
has been growing as a whole, and if not precisely in the order
of time, yet eventually transcending itself. While the name, then,
and even the manner, may be somewhat indifferent, the conscious-
ness attending any work may have importance. Instinct and
mere habit can hardly prompt good manner, while nakedness
and filth may become sacred through self-consciousness and neces-
sity. I have heard a gentleman speaking beautifully of manners
while eating cabbage with his fingers in place of a fork. Let us
say, then, of him who would perform before the world, we admire
the spring and confidence which survive the contemplation of his
own and others' errors ; and so he shall first salute the high gods,
let him bang away with all his might.
One other careful consideration deprecates too strong a rubric
over the matter herein. A part of it has appeared in newspaper
articles and otherwise, which, in its present articulation, may lack
the coherence of a piece wrought out at a single heat. Those
articles falling under the eye of the editor of this Journal occa-
sioned the alternative of either seeing some of them copied as they
first appeared, or forming them with other matter into a discourse
Philosophical Reveries. 3
of some order ; to the adoption of the hither horn of that dilemma
the generous patrons of the Journal will attribute the present
infliction. Still, as far as possible to claim the mercy due to
newspaper material from the classic leisure of quarterly criticism,
I retain the popular introduction after which parts of it first ap-
peared.
To the Editor of the .
Sik : In a recent interview, which is remembered with pleasure,
you questioned the feasibility of putting Hegel's first principle
into popular apprehension. How if now, while the cabinet tim-
ber is seasoning, and the Governor is wistfully searching for the
genius which the politicians have boasted in their respective lead-
ers (not one in fifty of whom ever did a generous thing or ever
uttered a wise one), we turn to the philosophical arena, where
prestige and pretension are vain — where hard blows alone may
determine the championship, and where criticism is forced to par-
ticipate under the Spartan regulation, " strip, or depart " — and
learn, if we may, whether from Hegel or some other, or out of our
own soul, the inevitable.
l 3
Firstly, let us have a few words as to philosophy in its popular
relations. People err in esteeming philosophy a long-haired spe-
cialty, rather than a criticism of all that is popularly known.
There is no man of any note in this connection who does not
know about all the quotable literature in the world, and who has
not long survived that prejudice of " common sense " which pro-
nounces the metaphysician a crank. What makes high thought
seem eccentric to the masses is their disposition to be satisfied so
far short of radical explanation : they refer all things finally to law,
or to force, or to designing mind, or to divine power, or to some
other generality which is not apprehended as explanatory, but is
a mere limbus wherein they dump the problem. The philosophic
spirit must enter into the meaning and force of law, and divine
power, etc., and must realize in himself the reason and the genius
of being. But when the natural man hears the philosopher
attributing to rational principles certain results which common
sense refers to persons he is vexed ; he is disposed to say, rever-
ently as he feels, that God made the world ; the philosopher is apt
to say that the reason of things is reason. The latter may be only
4 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
interpreting the words of the former, who. in referring things
to God, is prompted by the consciousness of a producing power
in himself; man does some things, and therefore it seems relevant
to him to say God does certain other things. But though a man
had himself made all things, he would not, on that account merely,
be capable of answering the questions which a philosopher might
ask him.
Much to the disadvantage of men who are still in the natural
way of thinking, philosophy is a life or an occupation so intent
on its own pursuits that few of its participants have any leisure
in which they may turn back and assist the uninitiated over those
obstructions which they had long ago surmounted and have since
despised. It is said of those explorers toward the pole that he
who once enters the Arctic dream can never again follow with
his former interest the temperate vocations of his race; for ever-
more the loadstone draws him, and evermore his fancy kindles
the opaline splendors of the eternal ice. So he who has once
entered beyond the sensuous limits of reality, and has seen that
the cause of things cannot be another thing — for that were but
one more added to the list of things to be accounted for — can
never again acknowledge the gleam of the highest genius in any
eye that beholds not the eternal verities. Evermore for him are the
larger sanity and the surer fixity of the far stars which have no
orbits in the reckoning of this world. The pole must be there —
the world must be rational ; not rationally may either assumption
be ignored; and all subordinate interests and dignities which
claim to defer the worth of these our studies are themselves eccen-
tric — far out from the agonism which embroils the heavier metal
in the crucible of truth.
But latterly there has been a movement, a breaking up of the
ice on which the explorers have been wont to travel and to rely
as permanent. This shifting has brought about a collision of in-
sights, which we may hope after a while to explicate ; and it has
given occasion for a new departure, which the circumstances may
indicate in due time. Especially since 1880 philosophy has been
strongly agitated. Since then the vast and imposing fane which
for a hundred years had dominated the fields of thought, and in
which philosophy with bated breath had uttered the name of
lmmanuel Kant, has trembled to the armored tread of James
Philosophical Reveries. 5
Hutchinson Stirling. Mr. Harris, of the " Journal of Speculative
Philosophy," now sees the solution of all in the Trinity. The
London thinkers are shifting all cause into a postulate of conipre-
hensibility. At the same time my brochure, " Anaesthetic Revela-
tion " (1874), despite its many errors, is calling peremptorily for
trial through voices more commanding than my own. The twenty
volumes of Hegel have adduced doubtless twenty hundred more
of dispute, criticism, and explanation, which leave us still in doubt
as to how far his true interpretation is extant. There have been
some who charged that he intended rather to astonish than to be
understood — a difference of little importance to us, who must un-
derstand for ourselves. Indeed, aside from Hegel's obscurity of
claim, the philosophers are few who have come so close to the peo-
ple as to declare : This is the question, and this is the answer ; but
of Hegel especially it may be well said that he philosophized for
a conclusion which he never expressed. That he was pervaded
by the great truth cannot be doubted ; the eyes of the world, if
not directly on him, are set toward the region which he occupied.
Though he may not be the last of philosophers, pull him out and
all the rest will be drawn into his vacancy. Yet something about
him must be wrong while his results are so confessedly questiona-
ble ; and after the quotation of two or three of his prefatory sen-
tences we shall go our own way :
"The only thing essentially necessary to an insight of the
method of scientific evolution is a knowledge of the logical nature
of the negative: that it is positive in its results." " Its self-con-
tradiction does not result in zero, or the abstract nothing, but
rather in the negation of its special content only." " In the result
is contained essentially that from which it resulted."
We are at once in the midst of philosophy, and very near to the
vortex of it, when we say : It is no accident — this omission by phi-
losophers of a direct statement of philosophy as a question and
its answer. A definition of philosophy would be apt to make an
end of it. The difficulty is in the question rather than in the
answer. A question of thought well put infers its own' answer.
Herein lay the trick of Socrates in forcing a geometrical demon-
stration from the mouth of Meno's slave; the answer is inevitable
if the question is free from sensuous content. When you ask con-
6 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
cerning any sensuous thing, What is it ? the answer requires some
transference or accordance of the sensuous to the intelligible ; but
whatever content is in thought is the same whether as question or
answer, assertion or negation. Here shows an immense difference
of thought and things. And before you come to things at all, in
the way of explanation, you are arrested by thought as to the be-
ing of things. What are they? seems an original and exhaustive
question until we observe that it were still more original with the
" what " cut off. Said Heraclitus, " Strife is the father of things ; "
but if things get being from strife, what is this which they get ?
What do we mean by is f We answer :
Is means the immediate presence and direct assertion, whether
of thought or things, and involves much or little according to the
culture of the knower. To the naive intellect, onlv that is which
is capable of conception in form or limit as against a background.
The thinker, perceiving that the limit or background is essential
in the thing, and so a part of it, makes the is with which the thing
is asserted include essentiallv that which within the limit is not.
So far as a thing immediately is, as within limit, if you take away
that which is not, nothing can immediately be. When I say " I
am," I initiate a meaning which that phrase does not wholly sig-
nalize ; it is a part of a sentence, of which the remainder is, " I
am not." The is of naive or immediate being has the better of
non-being (which may have content of its own) only through im-
mediate attention. There can be no thought of such being — it has
no limit or definition in thought, apart from non-being. The
very definition of such being — the outline which makes it one, is
not-being. How shall a man know he is alive — since in thought
the knowing of it constitutes the beino- alive — without distinguish-
ing in thought the opposite of life, and knowing as well one as
the other, and, so far as being is in knowing, being one as well as
the other? The one limits and defines the other as no other can
limit or define it ; they are, therefore, as in pure thought, not only
inseparable but convertible; either would be the other in the same
position — for the position is all and the content nothing There
is as yet no question of content — of what is or has being — but only
of being itself. Hence arose that paradox of immediate truth,
"being and not-being are the same." This notion is very old.
"Being is by nothing more real than not-being."
Philosophical Reveries. 7
Our attitude of thought here, old though it be, is not as vet
thoroughly conventional, and its difficulty is exaggerated in the
want of set expressions for duplexity in unity, and the transcend-
ency of synthetic or total thought. The natural man says of any-
thing, It is, or It is not, etc. ; and we, when making a topic of his
assertion (as the is), ordinarily use the same is over again, regard-
less of the transcendency of the assertion which we intend — the
method involved in it. To say non-being is this or that, or to say
being is this or that, is to misstate apart as a whole ; both together
comprise (here the conventional word is needed) this mystery,
or puzzle, or problem, which detains us, and which we usually
express by the term being alone. We use the word life also
with the same intention, as if death were the absolute other or
opposite of it, whereas he who has not perceived that life and
death are equal, and halves of this (the word lacking — the du-
plex mystery), has not yet divined the Heraclitic principle. So
when we speak of all, the totality, we quantify the all ; it is all we
know of, omitting the subjective consideration in which the all
reposes; and when, upon reflection, we propose to correct our as
sertion of all so as to include us and our thought, we find a new
and transcending person surrounding us, too late to be included ;
and thus, untrained in method, we fail to objectify, because we
propose as an immediate object a self-transcending reality which
is subject and object at once (whether inherently or in process),
and which can be an object only by the light of a scientific meth-
od. Even in high philosophical discourse you may find the mys-
tery spoken of in its right meaning, and in the next sentence, per-
haps, you will read of the being of the mystery, and maybe in the
next sentence of the being of this being, and so confuse the true
insight of the very first being as self -transcendent — thought in rela-
tion to itself — and in a relation which no repetition can intensify
or extend. The being of being of being -\- forever can mean only
the self-thinking transcendency of being — a fact of experience as
well as a philosophical necessity, and a fact static enough, although
requiring a process to its perception.
The gorge of positive or immediate science rises against no
other morsel as it rises against self-relation. " Can a man lift
himself by the straps of his boots ? Can a serpent take its tail in
its month and swallow itself? Can a fence be so crooked that he
8 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
who climbs over it shall come down on the same side from which
he went up?" No; there is no self-relation among things ; it is
not in the nature of things. But there are realities which are not
things ; for instance, the relations of things. There can be no
self-relation (nor any other relation, as we shall see more clearly
further on) without intelligence. " But in self-relation somewhat
must either be before it is, or be ideally as in precedence of an
according demonstration, or else be as in a process of becoming
whereby all reality is given in one common present tense, so that
the relation can exist only as one side at a time, whereas, in any
explanatory use of them, as self-sufficient, both sides must exist at
once." We must here presume a little of idealism :
Self-relation, as a fact or an inference, involves the anomaly of
a state of change. This were an impossibility among things, and
is possible only as energy or activity can be objectified. But, where
thought is reality, energy must be essence — substance. And there
can be only one example of pure energy, and that the one supreme
instance of relation to self involved in knowing with constant ref-
erence to being : not as if one first knew, and afterward remem-
bered and reviewed the knowing in a time process, but knowing
and being as in one act having analytically two aspects. For the
whole of idealism goes to the proof that the object — in this case
the self — finds its form and distinction only in the subjective rela-
tion, and that the two sides cannot succeed one another in a time
process. To say You know, and you know you know, is to add
nothing in the last clause ; it is as idle as to say You lie, and you
know you lie ; for as it is self-consciousness which distinguishes a
lie from a mere misstatement, so it is self-reference which distin-
guishes living knowledge from the reflection of a mirror.
But this transcendency, or " dialectic," or whatsoever it may be
named, is not to be used as explaining time, nor things in the pro-
cess of time ; it is true only in pure thought, as general — thought
of itself. When Heraclitus says a Strife is the father of things,"
he uses a general term which is not to suggest the vulgar inference
of a grandfather of things. If you choose to call strife one among
other things (which it is not, but rather a relation of things), then
strife would infer, as immediate, that infinite womb of inertia and
peace in which it shows by contrast ; but this were wdiolly vain,
as merely renewing in another particular instance the general prin-
Philosophical Reveries. 9
ciple of opposition — the total synthesis — which no new instance
can supplement or replace. In this light we see that in the region
where energy is essence or substance (real object), an opposition is
possible which, attempted among things of conceptual limits, could
not appear; and that the time process, which seems necessarily in-
volved in the notion of self-relation, is erroneously shifted thereto
by reflection from the process by which we rise from the imme-
diate to the synthetic or pure general, so theorizing a fixed fact
which, having two aspects, requires two successive views in order
to its being seen both before and behind, or in its immediacy and
its ground. "While, therefore, a whole of thought has thus the
character of a process in circuit, from the immediate or limitedly
present around through the subjective element, to the scientific
immediate or self-related, we are not to assume that the whole so
attained can be taken as thesis of a new or higher synthesis, and
so on, with the intention of compiling a knowledge nearer to the
absolute than our first. Our process is to a fact; to renew the
circuit in any expectancy is to let the fact slide off into a method
which is only our method of attaining the fact.
Truly the becoming, or the time process, in which reality seems
to the natural man confined to one common present tense for all,
does offer to philosophy the temptation of an absolute seemingly
in a process rather than in a fixed fact ; but the fact (even of pro-
cess) is the absolute term, and the temptation will pass away in a
better understanding of time — which we shall attempt hereafter.
"We should here carefully discriminate between pure and sensu-
ous thought. Pure thought is self-relation and nought else ; it is
thought in the general,, awake and aware, with no other topic than
being. Assertion as general asserts no particular other than itself;
and negation as general denies no particular other than itself as
immediately taken — in doing which it appears as a positive force ;
it does not destroy itself as general, but only its specific topic ; and
if that topic shall be its immediate self as negative, the general
activity still persists and prevails. Now, to perceive how pure
thought — thought of itself — differs from thought with another ob-
ject, or a sensuous content, observe the following : To say that a
picture, or any other sensuous thing, is the same as the want of it,
were to utter nonsense indeed : there is a difference equivalent to
the whole stuff and merit of the picture ; but in so far as the pic-
10 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
ture can be real in thought — whether fancied or theoretically pos-
sessed — its presence and its absence (so far as they are affected by
their assertion or their negation) are the same and indifferent.
The saving clause in our sentence is " its absence." We do not
mean the absence of anything else, nor absence in general ; and
now how does its absence differ from any other absence, or from
absence in general ? We answer : It differs by containing a com-
plete description of the picture ; the hole is as round as the plug ;
and from thought the picture cannot get away. So non-being
does not mean non-conformity, or non-anything else at all, but
non-being ; the negation is specific and descriptive, and preserves
in science what it destroys from conception.
Even so the ultimate distinction is not as between the universe
of things and nothing ; here again is a difference equivalent to the
value of all things. The ultimate distinction is pure thought re-
gardless of any topic besides ; we are not yet concerned with ivhat
shall have being otherwise than as being is somewhat in and for
itself — an object only transcendently. But our habit of thinking
will keep us dragging in somewhat immediate to cling to or to
illustrate with. All that is, popularly, is as having the better of
non-being — ungenerously suppressing the fact that the "better"
specifies a like which it betters, and which refutes the better as
assumed totality. If all were not — we think that were easy ;
there were no wonder then — no tax on ingenuity, nothing to ac-
count for. This conclusion is from false premises, and is due to
fanciful and partial thinking — the thinking which assumes all
reality as conceivable and limited — assumes knowledge as an im-
mediate physical light, rather than an ideal distinction involving
light and darkness equally. It assumes that if the light were to
go out the show would be ended (and so it would), but it forgets
the fact that, if the darkness were to go out, that would be equally
calamitous. It were bad enough if the master had lost his crayon,
but the loss of the blackboard would be alike fatal to the demon-
stration. Without darkness, light would be unintelligible and use-
less. Without darkness you could not tell which end of a stick
was toward you, nor indeed see it at all. There would be no
perspective, no relief, no shade, no form, no color. Universal
light were as blind as universal darkness ; there could be no dis-
tinction in either. Universal thing and universal nothing were
Philosophical Reveries. 11
alike indistinguishable. Why, then, assume the positive, the im-
mediately affirmative, as alone the ingenious? Is not the mould
as shapely as the model? The original ingenuity does not show
in bringing light out of darkness, nor in bringing things out of
nothing, but in evolving through the just opposition of light and
darkness this wondrous picture, in which the black and white lines
have equal significance — in evolving from life and death at once
the conscious spirit.
It is our habit to think of life as clear, and of death as cheap
(although Tithonus found them otherwise), or, continuing the
simile of the picture, that paper is cheap while drawing is expen-
sive ; but the engraver had a different estimation in one sense, for
all his labor was spent on the white ground, while he left un-
touched those parts of the block which are represented in the lines
of the picture. Had the block been limitless, there had been no
distinction in the relative cost and value of the two sides of the
contrast. If being and non-being are both necessary to the pres-
ence of either, neither shall claim priority or preference. Indeed,
we may fancy an intelligence which, instead of regarding things
as complete entities of themselves, should regard chiefly their
background as affected by the holes which things are making in
it. Even so the paper-maker, wrapt in his own art, may contem-
plate your picture as intrusive and impertinent.
It is here to be said, carefully rather than ironically, that by
non-being we do not mean nothing ; neither do we mean the op-
posite of abiding, or of becoming — participles rather than aspects
of our utmost noun. Non-being as here used is the ground of the
immediate or limited — whether, as an ultimate fact, that ground
be the rest of the multiplicity of things, or opposition merely,
and whether in time or out of time. JSTow, totality itself may be
taken by the naive intellect as an immediate topic (as what may
not be so taken, from a round square to a blue smell ?), and to
that, of course, the opposite, or non-being, would be pure nothing,
void, whether subjective or objective ; but such a taking would be
erroneous and vain, as assuming that a totality can be imniediate
in the sense of being all object, whereas it cannot — as the naive in-
tellect may see when it considers the fact that the knower, taken
as other or opposite to an immediate totality (supposing a totality
could have an opposite), would [still, by the definition, be within
12 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
that totality. Clearly, then, the power of grasping or consenting
to totality involves the power of thought to make itself its own
object — not through direct vision as an eye sees, but by a rational,
unavoidable process, whose result may then, in proper terms, be a
fact or object of scientific immediacy.
" But would not this hypothetical nothing hold the same rela-
tion to the ingenious universe that non-being holds to special
things?" No; the first is an impossibility, the last is a neces-
sity. The universe, by definition, must contain all opposition ; it
is not a ball hanging in a vacuum, nor aught for any intelligence
in direct view ; it is an afterthought even to the gods. The non-
being that relieves a thing is in one sense solid stuff; it is all
other things. The thing is a whole only as a part of a whole ; it
is pointedly one, and this one, to the extent and intent of universal
otherness. Destroy any other thing, and a part of this thing must
vanish, for it could no longer have ground and relief. The cur-
tain beside me, were my ear so fine, would whisper of mines and
miners, and looms and fields of mulberry, and of logwood cutters
and camp-fires in far-away lands. All these are related to it as it
hangs ; and if I knew it well I might feel the draught of Uranus
in the waving of its folds. What a thing is not is not nothing, but
only nothing immediate — it is not this thing: the negation is
specific, as of all that this thing lacks of totality. As above the
region of things, in pure thought of itself, non-being is the sub-
jective element in which thought as immediate reposes ; it is the
ever-invisible rear of a circular process, in which, as other, it is the
same when immediately taken. It is not the opposite of thought,
but it is that part of thought which is the ground and opposite of
immediate presence — while a whole of thought comprises both
immediacy and ground — both form and essence, and, like the uni-
verse, has no opposite at all.
Now this position, which originates in Heraclitus, has not re-
mained unchallenged ; and the most formidable challenge is, that
in it we are all the time presupposing living thought, in the pre-
sumed presence of which being and non-being are equally topics
and thought-realities — whereas real non-being would vacate the
thought which now entertains it as a mere spectre, or hypothesis,
and leave utter non-distinction, which is claimed as exemplified in
sleep and death.
Philosophical Reveries. 13
By what follows, our philosophy must stand or fall. We have
shown that the popular wonder which asks Why is — ? has mis-
taken the fundamental difference ; for Why is not — ? is a ques-
tion of equal pertinence. But " to be, or not to be," is no longer
our alternative. We have sustained our immediate being agaiust
the ground of non-being, declaring that our non-being is not
nothing, but rather a half of the reality. The objection now
comes, that to this great reality there is an opposite — nihility,
sleep, death ; that being and not-being are not yet totality, but a
combination which, however immediately prevalent, shows another
in the possibility of its non-being ; and so our absolute fact again
threatens to slip away into a method. The aim of the objection
is, to substitute for being and non-being (as the halves of reality)
thought and non-thought — which are not halves of anything ; for
what is not thought — for instance, a square circle — is absolutely
not, because not thinkable.
The objection says : If you really thought non-being — realized
it, instead of merely supposing it — you would be annihilated. We
answer :
What must be thought for thought, must be ; and to think noth-
ing is to think not.
This position does expressly presuppose thought of it; but
thought alone must determine it, and the presupposition does not
alter or in any way affect the result of thought's working after
thought comes on the ground ; nor is the conclusion impugned by
the fact that thought itself proves to be the requirement of the
position. That which shall save thought and all from utter
nought is an ultimate distinction — some total in which an imme-
diate and its ground are all, excluding opposition, as a whole.
Now put the question : If distinction should vanish, what would
remain ? The objection answers : Nought — death. But consider :
Was not distinction all when at its vanishing it left nought ? If
it was not all, its loss was not the loss of all ; but if it was all,
then it was distinction, not between any others, but all distinction
and difference in and of itself : as distinction it had other in itself
and for itself, and was self-related as its own other. To what
other could it change as a whole f to what other could its vanish-
ing give way, when its totality already contained the other of its
immediacy? Becoming wholly other, both sides would change,
14 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
and it would stand precisely as at first. How can the loss of dis-
tinction make a difference f Distinction as an immediate topic,
like any other, is the topic of a knower, as somewhat to be lost,
and liable to afterthought as only a part of the whole, as which it
was presumed. Any loss, at its utmost, offers a contrast of the
new status with the old. Obviously, it is too late now to ef-
face by any change the fact of distinction ; a contrast must make
the present only the more pronounced inany intelligence which
is competent to the situation ; and aught that may be conjectured,
as either primordial or ultimate, shall be a status still, of which
the present is proved as an ever-possible contrast and relief.
There is no possible conjecture, whether void, plenum, or multi-
plicity, but such as carries with it, in the competent intelligence,
the subjective which holds it as a status ; and when the conjecture
is of distinction in general — pure self -relation, rather than some
mark or line in imagination — the subjective fills the void with
distinction of itself. In the full meaning of thought, then, to think
nothing were to think not ; nihility is impossible ; for it must be
total or not at all, and, with nothing (as no distinction) for back-
ground, it could not have the character which its hypothesis now
assumes in contrast with the universe of things.
But can this practically be — a distinction, not between others, but
in and for itself — a total of itself — a universal ? Truly, as we turn
from theory to fact, thought, our presupposition, is just that ; what
we must find is what we do find ; the ultimate, ineffaceable distinc-
tion is self-distinction, self-consciousness. The thought that must
be is the very thought of our experience ; the ultimate opposition,
the to be and not to be, is personality, spirit — somewhat that is in
knowing that it is, and is nothing else but this knowing in its vast
relations.
Now, that sleep or death can teach one that this spirit, which
has its other in itself as an essential and integral part of it, can
become only one of its own halves, is not admissible. Becoming
wholly other, both sides must change, while the unity is unchange-
able. Let one sleep, then, long or briefly, it is indifferent to him ;
the reaction is to him instantaneous, the synthesis holds him surely,
and no man has any experience on the contrary to be offered. And
although it were truth to be said that in sleep and death we are
not, yet looking in this light we might well say "we are not"
Philosophical Reveries. 15
very extensively even when awake ; for all our thoughts but one
" are not" continually. Let a man consider the very little thought
that is in his consciousness at any one moment, and then the re-
lapse from that little will seem no such bugbear of extinction.
There should be little fear of death for a mind in which is con-
tinual resurrection.
If now we had so much of idealism as would assure us that the
identity of sense and conception finds all its difference in the sub-
jective relation, so that we might utterly free self-relation from
all contamination of the time process, we might cry with confi-
dence : Here lies the bed-rock ; here the brain-sweat of twenty-
five centuries crystallizes to a "jewel five words long" : the uni-
verse has no opposite. For here the wonder of that which is,
and knows it is, rests safe in the perception that all things are
only through the opposition which is their only fear — that if they
are through this relation they are founded in thought, which alone
can be relation — and that a whole in being, whether little or great,
unit or universe, is self-related and immortal thought. This is the
m} r stical x — the nameless, which cannot be unlocked ; for, while
neither limb of it is possible without the other, one or the other is
immediate and inevitable.
II.
OF THE PRINCIPLE OF THINGS, WITH HINTS FROM PYTHAGORAS I
DUPLEXITY, THE QUADRATURE OF THE CIRCLE, ETC.
Our general principle, as such, grounds no special difference as
of things — accounts as yet for no variety or detailed ingenuity.
The universe confronts us now : some principle has succeeded — is
successful ; our vocation is not to invent, but to discover. Does
the general principle of the inevitable extend to and explain the
characters of particular things ? Is strife, opposition, contrast, suffi-
cient to account for this wondrous world ? If we shall answer
Ay, then each thing is the opposite and key to all others, as with
it making a whole. Things are not infinitely next to one another,
but their outlines are set by recoil from the limits of an ideal whole.
The broken cell of the honeycomb can be mended in line with the
other cells ; but for the missing head of the statue the torso calls
on the ideal world. "We may readily conjecture a universe in any
16 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
part of which an intelligence might proceed in the contrasting of
things given, with no comprehension of the system — with no ex-
haustive catalogue of the results of opposition, nor any apprehen-
sion of the relations of knowing to the known. In so far as
things await knowing, opposition of them would he only a tempo-
ral and exploitive principle. If strife is the father only as intel-
ligence of things, knowing shall be in some sense the making of
o CD i O CD
things before opposition can be credited as the true principle. And
if it could in any way appear that things, or the conditions of
things, are eternal, and that time and change are but a subjective
and individual process playing over them, those conditions may
stand ready for the same time and change to be made over them
again, and the' static or Eleatic principle would come in and so far
prevail as it may without an explanation of time.
Let us consider the Pythagorean principle. We are used to
suppose that number is founded upon things which are to be num-
bered ; but Pythagoras held that things are founded in number,
and that number is the substance of things. We may readily see
that number is higher in thought than are things numbered.
The saying, "two and two make four," is a parable of vulgar
certainty. But if by four, cr two, or one, we mean anything
which the eye of man ever saw, or the imagination of man ever
conceived, or "matter" ever presented or produced, the parable
is not true. For if two and two make four, four is made up of
the contents of four ; but how is it when four halves (of any things
in this world) are as many as four wholes, while the contents are
only half so much ? Four pins are as many as four planets ; four
naughts are as many as four units ; in short, the sensuous contents
which the mind uses as stepping-stones to the idea of four are use-
less and indifferent after the idea is attained.
If this strange assertion — number is the substance of things — is
true, it is true in two meanings : first, number in the sense of its
greatness — its numberlessness, so to speak, will be the basis of
totality ; second, in the explicit discretion or particularity of num-
ber each separate thing will find its special basis in its particular
number.
By number, in the sense first contemplated, we hold Pythagoras
to have meant what we would call, in vernacular, muchness. Let
us detect any creative principle therein. — You may beat a bushel
Philosophical Reveries. 17
of stones down to three pecks of dust — a smaller bulk ; yet if you
pile the dust on a windy knoll it will all be blown away, al-
though the original stones, a larger heap, would remain in the
same exposure for ages. This is a striking conclusion, in view of
the fact that the atoms of a stone should be heavier, in proportion
to their size, than the stone itself; for we may suppose the stone
to take fracture where it is least substantial. Why, then, is the
atom less stable than the orb? The reason is evident. When
you cut a body in two, you increase the surface, while the weight
remains unchanged. The atom has more surface in proportion to
its. weight; and the mere identity of the matter (which is repre-
sented by the notion of size) loses its absoluteness in a difference
of surface. The wind judges the atom, not on the ground of its
identical weight, but with the eye of the creator of substance as
measuring it against the show it makes in the world. Here is a
principle of identity and difference. Seen from the standpoint of
sensible apparition, a •thing increased is not only more, but more
in proportion — more, that is, in the hypothesis that reality ap-
pears ; a certain amount of appearance is wholly due to the fact of
a thing being made less ; and a certain amount of substance is cre-
ated (from the visual standpoint) in the fact of a thing being more.
If the addition be universal, the whole is, by the amount of the
whole, more by being the whole ; it is self-creative in its much-
ness. On the other hand, infinite bisection makes a thing all out-
side ; and self-related externality — a thing outside of itself — is all
form, or self -consciousness.
But this ratio holds good only as between being and appearing,
substance and form, identity and difference. In pure abstraction
it is not true. If I add one to five I create nothing ; for six is no
more in proportion than five. In pure identity, left to itself, is
neither being nor not-being. Proportion comes only with differ-
ence, and is therefore a principle of only interdetermination, re-
quiring presupposition. Part determining part, or part sustain-
ing part, shows no originality nor totality. Though the grapes
cling together, the whole cluster may fall.
As to the second meaning we may say that, whatsoever may be,
the rational exploitation of it will begin or set out from the line
on which difference first appears. The first difference will show
between our first this (object) and its other, or ground of relief.
XX— 2
18 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
But since the totality is both this and the other, the first distinc-
tion is the absolute distinction — distinction not as between others,
but wholly in itself — essential only as self-opposition — a substance
(allowing the word) of energy. In the inherent activity of this
opposition we may, perhaps, come to detect various beginnings
for the exploitation of substance into discrete things ; but the fact
will remain that this is the First principle, and the assumption is
proper that things are in an order / there is a Second — perhaps an
order of seconds; so that, in view of any origin, every result will
have its number and will be a number. So much for Pythagoras.
It is one great desideratum of philosophy to bridge the chasm
between "mind " and " matter; " and everything that goes to the
proof that pure ideas (number, liberty, harmony, equality, etc.)
have effects in matter (so called) helps to rationalize the world.
Truly it is hard, at first thought, to hold that opposition, or some
other occult idea, creates this world ; but, piercing through the
gross embodiment of thoughts which make up our notions of
God and man, we find that opposition is their principle — the re-
sult of our utmost analysis. It will be good for us, now, to make
a few experiments with our ordinary life, showing instances in
which abstract ideas develop sensuous results through opposition.
1. Not asking what force is, but admitting the usual meaning
of the word, let us ask, What is the opposite of force ? The readi-
est answer will be, Inertia. But in so far as the inert has the
power of resisting and discharging force, it is itself a latent force,
which may become positive. The pure opposite of force is lib-
erty ; resistance, confinement may illustrate force, and hence ex-
haust it in their own relative destruction. Now, if things get
presence from contrast with their negatives or their opposites,
and force can be seen to be due to liberty in this our world, an
" abstraction " will be seen to affect " matter."
Let a pound-weight fall fifteen inches to a spring balance, and
it will show a weight of ten or twelve pounds gained in falling.
A woodman, with a mere twitch of his wrist, can send an axe
deep into a tree, and almost indifferently whether he may strike
upward, downward, or sidelong, and the depth of the cut has no
exhaustive relation to the strength applied ; for he might lay the
edge of the axe on the wood and push for an hour without making
Philosophical Reveries. 19
such a cut. The force of the blow accords to the time iu which
the axe was at liberty ; the little force applied grew, while it met
no resistance, to this cutting efficiency ; the extra force came from
liberty. We seem to see this growth of force also in the human
will and muscles. We see it also in the growth of a magnet; the
more the magnet is drawn upon the stronger it becomes.
Shall we not expect herefrom that liberty in a nation will
give force to moral character, and invention to intelligence? A
class of men cowed down by castes which they may never enter,
and by a Church whose edifices, so far as any founding of theirs
is concerned, may claim an equal date with Andes and with Ara-
rat, can hardly look at things so free from prejudice as they who
in the open country must build a church if they would have one.
We see how the environment warps the genius of man in the
case of Plato, whose largest work is about government and that
sort of thing, which have but a remote relation to philosophy.
Our German friends, too, have a deal to say of government and
the Church — things which, to a man engaged in the more impor-
tant query, how far the crack of a pistol would go toward finally
settling his bill, seem but worldly trash and impertinence. And
as for moral force, the fact is every day more apparent that it
takes more lead to kill an American than any other man requires.
It is within the memory of any living philosopher that men fell
at a single pistol-shot, and often died of shock ; but a man who
draws his revolver in these States to-day may need to very nearly
empty it. General Jackson (was it ?) said of an antagonist : " I
would have killed him, sir, though he had shot me through the
heart."
I would not so congratulate my countrymen that this paper
may not be pleasantly read by people of other lands, yet I be-
lieve that even those will endorse a claim which at all events I
shall lay to another American excellence. That we are, in one
sense, the most highly generalized intellect of the world, appears
in the fact that, while our actors successfully presume to imitate
the tones of voice of all other people, no actor of any country ever
attempted to mimic plain United States. Whether the fact is
due to our mongrel breed, or to our political institutions, we have
sunk all the imitable peculiarities of speech ; we make the least
effort in utterance of any people. Therefore we have no appre-
20 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
ciable dialect. Our speech is, as Walt says, " the tasteless water
of souls."
2. When a fast train of cars has passed before the eye, the track
and its immediate surroundings seem to be moving in the oppo-
site direction. How comes this apparent motion — this headway
of the mind— in objects which, from the eye's standpoint, have
not moved? The mind grasped the motion, at the passing of the
train, with entire indifference as to whether the train was moving
over the track, or the track was gliding under the train ; the tw r o
objects shared the motion ; the motion was possible only in two
opposite directions ; and the momentum of the thought, after the
train has passed, seizes those surrounding objects which are less
immediate and carries them after the train, while the more imme-
diate objects and the track itself retreat in the contrast.
This reaction is like that of an eddy, where, in a rapid stream,
loaded perhaps with ice, the water pours impetuously past the
piers of a bridge — the whole force seemingly tending down the
river, yet the motionless piers call the water back from a long way
down. As the current passes the sides of the pier, the adjoining
waters are revolved as a series of wheels, and when, on coming to-
gether below the piers, the perimeters of these opposite wheels
become each a track for the other, the effect must be the same as
it would be if the railroad should move toward and under the
train with an equal speed ; the train would stop when its direct
impulse was exhausted. Behind the pier is a triangular, wedge-
like space, free from the downward pressure, and the pausing
wheels are forced back into this space by the lateral pressure of
the main bulk of the water which was displaced by the pier.
In the case of the motion of things after a train of cars has
passed, we usually call the effect an optical illusion; the eddy we
usually call a reality ; but radically there is no such difference be-
tween them. Let one look at the squares of a tessellated floor, or
at a side elevation of a cube or a box, which gives three sides to
the eye ; by predetermining in his mind he can eventually see the
figure either as a cube, or as three sides of a box opening toward
him and lacking three sides ; but if he attempt to so determine
it instantly and voluntarily, he will find himself baffled — for these
forms in the mind, or in the eye, have a crass and mechanical ob-
stinacy which allies them to that same "reality" so respected in
Philosophical Reveries. 21
the case of the eddy, and so suspected in the case of the train.
The explanations of positive science are useless to philosophy;
they ignore the potentiality of the negative and the compensation
of totality. Their down is quite as well up. The stein and the
blossom of the apple come together only by dividing — going
around the world. The zephyr at last whispers in its own ear.
The ship beats to windward by the negative force of the wind.
How else ?
3. Why do men die of insomnia? Why cannot they stop
thinking ? Because they cannot think anything without its other
— its ground of relief, its immediate negative ; it is because, as
said the ancient, " one thing the gods cannot show us." We have
indeed power to drive away any immediate fancy or set of words
from our attention, but lo ! we leave behind, and immediately ap-
parent, those associates from which it took its presence, got its
background, opposition, and relief.
4. It has been observed that the trot of a dog will sometimes
effect more sway in a bridge than the gallop of a horse. Any ex-
pert upon stringed musical instruments can, by striking one string,
vibrate another, while still others near it shall be unmoved. Here
is harmony producing physical effects ; and the dog does the same
feat. One string moves another whose vibrations are just oppo-
site and tit into it, so that the pressure of each vibration catches
that of the other at the limit of the recoil and drives it in the
way in which it is then tending to go. So the dog, his gait being-
timed to the spring of the bridge, gives all his weight when the
latter is going down, and makes the spring which lifts him while
it is coming up ; hence in crossing he throws his weight cumula-
tively into the liberty of the bridge. But the horse, not fitting
his opposition to the elasticity of the bridge, is apt to come down
when the bridge is coming up, giving a jar, but little motion, and
making discord rather than harmony. " Harmony," said Hera-
clitus, " is the xtnion of discords" — that is, their fitting opposition.
The drum of the ear would doubtless be found concurring in this
correspondence or opposition of vibration, and connecting many
ideal beauties with physical operations.
. A wonderful thing is the uniformity of measures in musical
time, among all races of men — the natural fitness of the length of
a note as voicing a sentiment. A whole note — a complete senti-
22 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
ment, is just so far from another in its pitch, in all the music that
ever was or will be to human nature. As one thing the gods can-
not show us, so in one feeling they cannot keep us. Touch any-
thing with your hand, and the sense of touch will last but a given
time, and then it must be renewed in consciousness, by movement
or change. So in music a sentiment arises and expires with a given
amount of attention, and the seriousness or weight of thought grad-
uates the time of its entertainment. Even so in poetry, the meas-
ure, " cadencing the pace," lets the attention recoil and take its
necessary rest, with less disturbance of the march, at expected in-
tervals. Perhaps time itself gets the measure of its progress from
this vibration of rest and attention, as spirit exploits and fleshes
the skeleton and scheme of the world. The uniformity of men
as to rest and attention is verv evident in the customary length
of certain entertainments. The ordinary sermon has a grasp on
its constituency of about thirty minutes ; the drama has a grasp
of about three hours ; the lecture or other secular monologue was
timed by " Artemus Ward " at just an hour and twenty minutes
— for him. Something of this sort must account for the average
length of sentences, for the measure of heroic verse, etc., etc.
According to the principle of opposition, the universe would be
originally a silhouette — simple black on white ; for all variety
would be traceable back to a two-sided contrast. The poet Goethe
contributed handsomely to this end in his theory of colors, proving
by experiment that all the colors are such by having more and less
of light.
Keeping still along the mathematical track of Pythagoras, let
us try some geometrical evolutions, initiating a progress toward
the invention of the various world from the simple action of oppo-
sition. While we do this the world at large will possibly view us
with that complaisance which it has heretofore extended to those
ancients of whom it was said, " they went on their way, rather
regardless whether men understood them or not." Our attempt
shall not be very pretentious as to results, but rather a mere speci-
men of effort, following which in his own way the reader may be
surprised at the rapidity with which all variety precipitates itself
to simple opposition.
1. We assume position. Its record is a point. The opposite
Philosophical Reveries. 23
of position is a straightaway, of which the record is a line. The
opposite of line is a straightaway from line (this does not extend
the line as such) ; its record is a surface. The straightaway from
surface gives depth or thickness — the recorded third dimension of
a solid.
2. But the opposite of straightaway, what is that? Return,
surely ; but return on the same line were not so opposite as on a
different line, if it be the least different ; the record of this is the
acutest angle. But to effect return we must make another angle
to the point of departure. Perpendicular departure and return
are now recorded in three angles, which can properly involve only
two perpendicular or right angles. We find the result justified :
a triangle contains two right angles. Euclid is with us ; who can
be against us ?
3. We enter to the region of equality. The straightaway is an
activity as such to any given extent. The perpendicular thereto,
and to the same extent, gives the second dimension in a square ;
return to the point of departure being equivalent to both dimen-
sions of the departure (although less in length) should give in the
diagonal of a square the dimension of a space double the square ;
and Euclid is with us again : the square of the diagonal is the
double of the square.
4. We come to the notion of force. The activity of opposition
on the line of the straightaway, being special from the point, in
the success of its effort forfeits the force of its impulsion ; this
throws the activity into degrees. At the same time, the activity
of the opposite (the perpendicular) of the straightaway is also in
degrees; both these forces, simultaneous in similar degrees, will
be recorded in a diagonal of degrees — a curve — which, returning
to the point of departure, will record the circle. The key to all
geometry is in our hand. There is no theorem that is not an
equation of oppositions.
Consider those propositions of the "Edinburgh Encyclopaedia"
(adopted for our schools in Davies' " Legendre," Book V, Propo-
sition VIII, et sequitur), wherein the circle is assumed as a polygon
of an infinite number (?) of sides. This assumption is designed to
authorize the demonstration of the circle's area by plane trigo-
nometry ; for, unless the lineal circle gives a straight side to each
of the infinite number (sic) of triangles which gather around the
24 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
centre, those triangles cannot be right-angled to the radii ; and
unless the arcs behind these straight sides in the circumference
can be exhausted by infinite bisection, the area cannot be abso-
lutely determined by trigonometry ; hence the claim of Proposi-
tion VIII, that the polygon can be made to differ from the circle
by "less than any assignable quantity." Under this unworthy
phrase is covered the fact that the polygon can never be assigned
as so nearly a circle that it may not become nearer. The corolla-
ries which thenceforth assume the identity of the two are unphilo-
sophical. They sacrifice no practical advantage, yet they involve
an error — not as wide as a church-door, but it will do, for in exact
science we must not tolerate loose behavior on the ground that
the offspring is " such a little one." Immortality is at stake upon
the rectification of the error.
There is no radius perpendicular to a circumference as such, and
there is no angle right in itself of which the least portion of a cir-
cumference forms a side. For if the assumed sides of the circle be
infinite, the radii fill the area ; there is room for but one dimension
of space— there is length only. At the instant when space appears
between two radii, the curve of the circumference pinches the angle
acutely. Still, the result of the calculation is correct when that
angle is assumed to be right ; and the true area is as the circum-
ference multiplied by half the radius.
The genius of Heraclitus relieves this inconsistency. Oppo-
sition is the life of things. Everything is through its other as
opposite. The angle rights itself through opposition. The lineal
circle is a process through infinite space to — nowhere ; it returns
into itself; in every advance it is seeking itself, and, soon or
late, it finds itself. This is the Heraclitic secret of all things :
in thought each is through its other. Look across at the other side
of the circle, at the opposite spoke of the wheel. The first tri-
angle, say, above the horizontal diameter is twin to the first be-
low the diameter on the opposite side. As the circumferential side
of the upper triangle bears away from a line perpendicular to the
diameter, the counterpart side bears toward that perpendicular pro-
portionately, and each compensates the other, and is made right
through the other. But the process of calculation which ends in
the "approximate ratio" of "3.1416 — " (and we may suppose an
approximate ratio to mean something not quite reasonable) is an
Philosophical Reveries. 25
assumption of finding in one side of a thing a reason which is
whole only in both sides — of finding somewhat in itself regardless
of its other — while all that is perfect, universal, immortal, and
especially geometrical, is through its other as the same.
The quadrature of the circle, therefore, as depending on the
straight equivalent of a curved line, would require the wholly
same of that which is the same and the other — that is, a theoreti-
cal direction coincident with that circular, self-seeking process,
which cannot be said to be dh*ectly anywhere, since every infini-
tesimal tendency forward is biased by a tendency aside. The dif-
ficulty is purely theoretical. Measuring a circumference, and
allowing the measure, its proper square is readily obtained after
multiplying that result by one half of the allowed radius. Or
otherwise: an arc a trifle less than a quadrant has a chord which,
plus half of the greatest radial diameter of its segment, is equal to
the arc's circumference. This arc is practically determinable; for
the chord's ratio increases as the arc diminishes, and as the quad-
rant chord is a trifle too long, while the octant chord is too short,
there needs but the empirical test to determine between them. As
a matter of fact, the right arc is somewhere about 85°. But this
empiricism has no philosophical interest. There is no measure ot
a thing save in its other as the same. The finest sensuous division-
line becomes an area under the microscope, which area is nothing
in itself, but wholly referent to the glass and the vision. There is
no geometry otherwise than by opposition and equation ; for there
is no proof, in heaven above or in earth beneath, save as the other
is the same.
Doubtless the tracing of all variety back to simple opposition
will be one of the philosophical diversions of the future. Note
but the constitution of man himself — how double and opposed.
Firstly in his make-up note the primeval equation of something
and nothing, as he stands visible and invisible, apprehensible only
to the joint faculties of sense and spirit. See him then double
and opposed as male and female ; and curious science has gone so
far as to detect in each of these orders the incipiency of the other
— the male in the female and the female in the male — as* if, were
one sex destroyed, that remaining could project the lost one from
itself. Note again the duplexity in his two sides, right and left.
From head to foot he seems put together as two almost indepen-
26 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
dent parts, each with its arm and leg and eye and ear and nerves
of taste and smell and sound — each with its side of the brain, the
heart, the lungs, and kidneys — each with its system of nerves
and vessels — and one of these sides may be paralyzed while the
other is working comparatively well. More intimately observe
how each of the sides in turn is double in the method of its con-
struction, in that it is throughout tubular — hollow and filled, con-
tainer and content. The binding web, of which we might say it
is the man proper, is stuffed with that of which we might say he
properly is not ; the food and the juices remain in their proper
channels, and, with regard to the web in its integrity, may be
said to enter the form but not the substance — like a knife stabbed
into a billet of wood. But this tubular web in its turn is made
of tubes ; as in the old homoiomeria hair is made of little hairs,
and feather of little feathers, and stones of little stones, and the
world at large of little worlds, so every tube is made of tubes
which are made of tubes in turn, until, beyond the last limits of
microscopic observation, the sensuous identity fades in the infinite
divisibility, and all that was known as mortal man becomes but
an instigation of the world of thought.
His particular spirit and her paraphernalia are all likewise
double and opposed — god and devil, heaven and hell, good and
evil. Her action and fashion are of process and recoil; compen-
sation is the key of her whole gamut of morals, literature, and art
— a region whose opulence of suggestion must tempt in vain even
the semi-systematic procedure of our essay, for philosophy shall
note chiefly the method of being, and leave to positive science the
specification of its details.
III.
IDEALISM ; CURIOSITIES OF THE GENERAL AND PARTICULAR, ETC.
I said that the sensuous fades in the infinite divisibility, and
reality precipitates in the world of thought. While we have the
compass and the square in hand let us demonstrate the fact that
the general cannot be asserted of the particular ; let us say that
no generality, such as motion, size, form, change, cause, can be
asserted of material tilings.
The mechanic says, with all "common-sense" men, that the
Philosophical Reveries. 27
rolling wheel moves ; the idealist says, No ; motion could at best
be of thought only. For, says the idealist, if the wheel moves, it
all moves, or else it would fly to pieces ? " Yes." And the track
stands still ? " Yes." Then if the wheel moved, and the track
were still, the wheel would grind the track ; but now a changing
particle in the bottom of the wheel is still, and is a pivot for the
motion of the other particles. If the wheel is lifted from its track
and revolved, this particle takes its position at the centre, and the
other particles go up and down, and right and left, around it ; set
the wheel on the track again, and then the forward motion of the
centre assumes the backward motion of the bottom, the top doubles
its speed, and the bottom is still as the track. This is a nonplus-
sing conclusion of its kind ; but all such become partial when sub-
jected to analysis. How can bottom and centre, or any other
generalities, be asserted of a wheel if motion may not be as-
serted ? Is there a bottom or a centre of a wheel? or are these
bottom and centre in the mind only ? Surely the latter. Every
part of the perimeter of a wheel should be a curve, and no part
of it can have a curve so short as to be all bottom ; and no part of
a wheel can be small enough to be the centre, but it must rather
be so large as to be capable of a centre of its own.
" But this does not confute the motion when two bodies become
nearer ; we can see them moving, and we can compare the results
of the motion." I might ask here, Has any change taken place
in either of the bodies, considered by itself, in consequence of their
alleged coming nearer 1 Or, Does the difference of things belong
to them % But we shall let these questions bide a while, and re-
sume the topic farther on.
Let us try the quality of size ; we are used to think that every-
thing has a size of its own. A thousand men will laugh at the
same jest and be wroth at the same indignities ; they will march
in the street with such an intuitive agreement of time that they
might be supposed with close attention to march around the
world, and keep the step of those who marked time in their ab-
sence ; they will take a pitch in music and keep it in the same
way ; and they will all look at a pea and get the same notion of
its size ; yet, seen through a microscope (which is but an improve-
ment of vision), the pea will show a thousand features justifying
its true size, or one of its true sizes, as that of an ordinary cannon-
28 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
ball, clearly showing that its size is given it by the quality of the
vision — the size of the mind. That is a fearful speed which we
attribute to the earth in its revolution — a thousand miles an hour
past any given point in space ; but if your eye were as large as
the earth, and the earth as an object before it took all day to turn
over once, the hour-hand of a watch, which cannot ordinarily be
seen to move, would beat her two to one, and the motion would
practically cease. So of other things ; their size is the size of the
mind. Little is much if it be our all. The two mites of the
widow were the largest gift. Our loss is measured by our posses-
sions. " If a man lose even his goose," said the late lamented Bil-
lings, "I will weep with him, for it is a tough thing to lose — a
goose." The boy wants a little horse, and a little wagon and
spade ; he comprehends them better as being small ; and he cuts
off the corners of things, and wants everything round, and smooth,
and sweet. But as he grows older things seem less to him ; he
no longer cuts off the corners, but he detects a beauty in tangents
and angles, prophetic of his own outreaching nature ; the sweets
pall on his taste, which covets astringents; and he indulges in
abnormal experiences, as the commonplace loses its interest, until
some day the conflagration of the firmament were but the bonfire
of an hour, and the empery of heaven were but the sadness of a
lover, to the majesty of his limitless appreciation.
And so of all quantity, quality, mode, or relation; they seem
to belong not to things, but to the intelligence in which things
appear. Here we are in the midst of idealism.
Idealism is the doctrine that the world is a phenomenon — that
matter is experience. Things do not exist ready made and wait-
ing to be known, but knowing, intelligence, is a main factor, at
least, in their composition. Pushed to extremities, it will declare
that the house over the way is not a house unless " I " (that is
an " I") see it ; that the apple is not yellow inside, but color and
juice and seeds follow the knife that makes them outside ' that
there is no more an unseen color than there is an unfelt pain, and
that there is no form save as thought grasps a wholeness among
the conditions precedent ; " in other words " (the man of ' common
sense' will add), "idealism is nonsense!" Yet possibly the more
contemptuous his denouncement of these positions, the more bit-
Philosophical Reveries. 29
ter will be the potion he will have to swallow if lie lives to attain
an explanation of the world.
A thing exists by distinction, or difference ; every one shows
only as against other which is its ground. One without other would
be all and nothing. Put a green color on a green ground and it
is lost beyond recovery ; the identity is there, but the original
"thing" is lost by destroying the distinction, the difference, the
limit. Identity without difference is indistinguishable — the same
in all and for all. Now, the difference of two things is not a prop-
erty of either. Suppose all the difference of the world repre-
sented by a big stone and a little one. Question, Are they big stone
and little stone in and of themselves ? Surely, no ; neither remains
what it now is, in this respect, if you take the other away. They
are big and little only in something that contains both. Or sup-
pose all things to be six in number; are they six of themselves ?
Surely, no, for each is now a sixth ; but if I surreptitiously re-
move one, I shall not alter the identical nature of the others, yet
each other will become a fifth. Or suppose a thing to have the
quality of being a mile away ; need I do anything to it in order
to make it two miles away ? Certainly not, for I can go the odd
mile myself. "Well, if the difference of two things (existing only
by difference) is not a property of either, whose property is it ?
There can be but one answer : It is the property of that which
relates them, or holds them in comparison or distinction ; and this
only intelligence can do. Without a difference which is not their
own, things cannot be known, and hence cannot be known to be.
" But though the two stones may not be big and little of them-
selves, are they not at least stones of themselves, regardless of
comparison ? " No ; the difference between big and little is not
more radical than the difference between stone and wood. It is
impossible to think of anything independent of contrast. If all
were stone it would cease to need that name, and would become
merely that identity which is the same for one and all, because it
shows no difference as such. The identity of stone, and the iden-
tity of intelligence as knowing only stone, cannot differ. If intel-
ligence furnishes the difference of things, the sense which accom-
panies the intelligence may as well furnish the identity, for it
will make no difference in the knowing whether the identity be
within or without. Fichte held it to be within.
30 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
That is a grave error wherein sense is posited as a faculty of
" difference," " multiplicity," as of points which thought combines
into wholeness. Sense is a faculty of identity only, and presents
no difference whatever. We cannot see without thinking. Sensa-
tions cannot differ without memory and relation. As " multi-
plicity," sense would furnish a multitude of wholes, and not of
mere parts — mere difference ; for a part is a whole on its own ac-
count. A square, for instance, is made up of parts — lines and
angles ; is there any of these parts (assumed to be made into a
whole by relating thought) which is not a whole made up of parts
in its turn ? The angle is made up of related lines ; the line is
made up of related points, and the point, if visible, is an area that
can be centred and pointed again so long as it can be magnified;
and so on. What sense can apprehend, therefore, is whittled to a
point and disappears into mere identity or ground. This is
Fichte's insight, and his only way to turn matter into reason.
The realist says he knows what he sees ; the idealist says he
sees what he knows : flesh cannot see ; it is the thought-form in
his mind which relates one side of a square to another, instead of
to something on the opposite side, and so makes a whole, a things
of the square ; and surely there is nothing in the elements them-
selves compelling this relation on combination. The edge of the
blackboard is as good a line as any. The diagram in itself is but
chalk and wood ; chalk and wood are but colored impenetrability ;
the color dies in the night, and the impenetrability flies before
acid, electricity, etc. Can a horse see a square, a circle, a triangle ?
If we fancy him so capable let us ask further : Here is a picture of
the crucifixion of Christ — can he see that ? Surelv none of these
things exist for him ; he has no thought-forms to impose as whole,
among these conditions ; he knows neither paint, canvas, nor gild-
ing. "Yes, but these things are there!" True, in your world ;
and there is possibly another world " there " which you no more
see than the horse sees yours.
Why cannot an untaught man look in your face and then draw
your expression as an artist can ? He may have a better eye and
hand than the artist has; he may play on many instruments, be a
good marksman, and a generally close observer, yet he cannot
draw your expression because he cannot " see the difference " ; he
has not the thought-forms which make wholes (" things") of those
Philosophical Reveries. 31
small variations upon which expression depends, and which are
numbered, perhaps, " 25," " 26," etc., in the book of the artist's
art. And if the untaught man knew no better the difference of
eye and nose than he knows the difference which makes expres-
sion, he could not see a face at all. Again the realist will say these
things are " there," to be seen ; and again the idealist will retort,
The conditions are there, but only through thought-forms can they
become things. (What "conditions" are is not just here impor-
tant, so long as they are not these things.)
Hard though it may be for the positive intellect to accept an
ideal explanation of things, the positivist has only to push his
own method to a radical conclusion to find it utterly inadequate
and confused. ISFot only are reason and sense antagonistic in the
determination of reality, but the senses are antagonistic as such.
Take the instance of the discharge of a gun : the eye, which sees
the issuing smoke, denounces the ear as too late in hearing the
reality ; then comes the demonstration that light is in motion, and
that vision therefore requires time, and then the eye in turn is
shown to be too late for the reality, and must be superseded by
feeling itself; but again the positivist fails of instant contact —
demonstrating that nerve itself transmits intelligence at the rate of
only 180 feet per second — and even then only sense is reached, and
the unity of perception has yet to follow. Hereby the thing in
itself, the external reality, is utterly annulled. For if vision de-
pends on light, and light comes from the thing observed — a star,
for example — one may find himself looking at a star that perished
years ago, and whose orphan beams are still travelling to his eye.
Obviously, in this case, he sees no star ; and, further, the proof is
at hand that he never did see a star, but only these beams — which
may then be assumed as living and advancing as a star through
every quarter of the universe, and filling it full of a star which is
not real either as objective or subjective.
Standing firmly on this ground (that things are by relation, and
that relation is in thought alone), the idealist is besieged with
questions which as yet are not fully answered to the satisfaction of
any. " If the things which I see are made by intelligence', and do
not exist without it, whose intelligence is it ? Certainly not mine :
I cannot paint such a picture as this which I am looking at ; and
from here I cannot even read the name of the artist there in the
32 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
corner." No, the idealist will answer, it is not your intelligence.
" But can anything be done by intelligence that is not done wisely
and designingly ? is there unconscious and mechanical intelli-
gence ? " The idealist must answer, No. " Well, can I be in
rapport with an intelligence — can it be through me, or I through
it, and I not know it?" Probably not. "Then how can I hold
that I make or contribute to the things I see?" There is cer-
tainly a difficulty in so holding — a difficulty equalled only by the
difficulty in letting go. The man who has got so far as to ask
these questions has "caught a Tartar." And one thing is certain :
he will never relinquish the fact on account of the embarrassment
attending on the proof of it.
But at any rate idealism inures greatly to the dignity and re-
pose of man. No blind fate, prior to what is, shall necessitate that
all first be and afterward be known, but knowledge is first, with
fate in her own hands. When we are depressed by the weight
and immensity of the immediate, we find in idealism a wondrous
consolation. The positive, so vast and overwhelming by itself,
reduces its pretensions when the whole negative confronts it on
our side. It matters little for its greatness when an equal great-
ness is opposed. When one remembers that the balance and mo-
tion of the planets are so delicate that the momentary scowl of an
eclipse may fill the heavens with tempest, and even affect the very
bowels of the earth — when we see a balloon, that carries perhaps
a thousand pounds, leap up a hundred feet at the discharge of a
sheet of note paper — or feel it stand deathly still in a hurricane,
because it goes with the hurricane, sides with it, and ignores the
rushing world below — we should realize that one tittle of pure
originality would outweigh this crass objective, and turn these
vast masses into mere breath and tissue-paper show.
We seethe force of idealism, too, in all our moral relations.
The wrath of the lamb cuts deeper than the stroke of the sword.
When we see the mother beg to suffer in lieu of her children — the
father for the son and the son for the father — when a lock of
faded hair from a dead woman's head will bring the outlaw and
the ruffian to his knees, and when a bit of striped bunting on a
staff will lead a man through the jaws of death for his country, we
learn that neither the impulse nor the advantage of " the world "
is the key to history in the past or prophecy in the future.
Philosophical Reveries. 33
IV.
the infinite {an extravaganza).
Said Parmenides, " That that which is should be infinite is not
permitted." The universe is founded at the centre, and the vaga-
ries of infinite liberty shall not carry it beyond the limits of sym-
metry and proportion — an excess of which, for the mere advan-
tage of liberty, were but excrescence and monstrosity. The mas-
culine and centrifugal tendency recoils in the feminine and cen-
tripetal. Self-love is conservative against mere change. A man
or a god may use his liberty in forever adding ciphers to unity,
not in the hope of exhausting or even exemplifying the infinity
which is his own, but rather in exhausting the ambition or the
spleen which can relieve itself only by action. No man of intelli-
gence ever felt his safety threatened by the greatness of the exter-
nal infinite, nor found his thought enlarged by an outward pro-
cess that he may reverse inwardly right where he stands. From
all such excursion the return is assured, and the advance is charged
to inexperience. The kid may gambol and run off; the dam
stands quiet and looks on. And he who has gone farthest in the
vicissitudes of fortune is most prone to recover in memory the
track of his youth. So an infinite past reviewed would add to the
presently forgotten the charms of reminiscence, or recognition,
and affection.
Wondrous and alluring to the youth is the external infinite —
the traveller's paradise — vagrancy in the manifold — the ever-
changing otherness ; and he embarks for Fool Haven — anywhere
but here. But the old man finds his charm in compensation,
retribution, and return. He has found that he is not other for all
this otherness ; for him the kingdom is not lo ! here, or lo ! there,
but within. It is he who carries the glory and the romance to
Lodi and Thermopylae ; it is his standpoint that adjusts the con-
figuration of the starry host ; the weight of a rose-leaf too much
dropped upon his planet may crack the crown in heaven ; nor in
all the world shall he find a greatness or a beauty which takes not
its majesty and harmony from his own soul. The ultimatum
comes to us in three degrees : the limited, the unlimited, and the
self-sufficient : the heaven of the senses, the heaven of progression,
and the heaven of liberty and safety. Perhaps I may not better
XX— 3
34: The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
illustrate the first two degrees than by quoting some of my own
sentences at the second stage :
" We know the heaven of man's sensual dreams. There is
golden, glorious light there, and music, as the forest pines were
strung to the arch of the rainbow, and thrilled by exhilarating
winds — winds that remember the brown eternities of the slumber-
ous land of Egypt, and the marbles wrecked in Asia — winds that
blow over the cedars of Lebanon and the groves of Arabia, and
bear their enchanting legends through the strings. He shall have
joy in a swift-moving and ethereal nature ; he shall pace the
golden streets, and look out from the crystal battlements of the
City of God ; and the stars shall sing again to the roses of nature,
as through the dews of the world's first morning. But what of
God the while ? — what of the infinite and the eternal % Think
you to loiter on the same flowery banks, and listen to the purling
of the same silver streams, forever ? Where is that ever-hungry
Soul which even now — smothered in flesh until it can dote upon
the jingle of a rhyme — can yet long for the harmonies of universal
law, and wonder how free, how brave, how happy it may ever
grow ? Where is the wit that conceived of the ambition of Luci-
fer and the treason of Uriel ? Is it content % In this definite
outline does the hope of Heaven end ? Nay — it does not here
begin. Not in the hope of a blessed abode, in music and light
and dreams — not in the hope of eternal rest, by houris fanned —
but in the hope of the glory of God — in the hope of eternal ad-
vancement — yea, even in the knowledge that there is no home,
nor stay, nor station on the wild, bright way we know not whither,
we shall spurn these heavens of the dull imagination. From the
colonnades and temples in gardens elysian, where blooms of ama-
ranth shade the lamb and the lion, and fancy hears the footfalls of
the loftiest of time, past thrones, principalities, and constellations —
past crowns whose jewels win the lifted eyes of Gabriel and Mi-
chael, up through laws and harmonies which it hath not entered
into the heart of man nor angel to conceive — which are to music
as is music to the grating of a dungeon hinge, shall rise the flying
soul — and the blessed air shall echo to her shouting, far o'er the
lost ideals of this world, ' Thanksgiving ! thanksgiving to the
Lord God Almighty, who calls and calls us through the universe
of glory ' ! "
Philosophical Reveries. 35
But what is this? " tlianksgiving ! " dependence ! Am I still in
bondage to the external ? This is no heaven of mine : it is the
heaven of the high gods. Lo ! where they recline on asphodel ;
prudence, solicitude, observance, to them are not ; no sympathy
with my doubt and weakness ruffles the languor of their patrician
repose : only the odor of human frailty forever rising around the
scentless ermine of the purple-born, the unaccountable. Is there
any safety, any repose for me f Amid all this pageantry of great-
ness I am no greater than before ; I am a slave, and I must know
it and resent it. And I think of him who, nurtured in the court of
Heaven a hundred youths and ages, old in change, yet change that
was ever in amenable and duteous modes, while far beneath him,
in the untried depths, he saw the possibility of testing his strength
and his endurance, could he less than try if aught were all his own %
He ventured ; had he done it not, even I must have done that for
him which was done once for all, and which now crowns his brow
with forlorn empery. In my heart is it written that it shall be
written, "There was war in heaven"; and some blasted shore
must show the record of his pride and anguish — footprints like
mine, quick stamped in the molten sands, where the whipt spirit
fled by fiery waves, or by thy tattered heart, Oh ! thou pale Titan,
that legend was a prophecy. A slave ? — thanksgiving to the ex-
ternal 1 — Kay, hear the noble Fichte : "I raise my head bravely
to the threatening rock, the raging flood and the fiery tempest,
and cry, ' I am eternal, and defy your might ; break all upon me !
and thou Earth, and thou Heaven, mingle in the wild tumult ! and
all ye elements, foam and fret yourselves, and crush in your con-
flict the last atom of the body which I call mine ! my will, secure
in its own firm purpose, shall soar unwavering and bold over the
wreck of the universe ; for I have entered on my vocation, and it
is more enduring than ye are — it is eternal, and I am eternal like
it.' " — Great heart ! not all of us can wear thy mantle, nor assume
thy demeanor ; we tremble, we stagger, but we stagger toward
the throne.
Then " backward, turn backward, O time ! in thy flight." I
will unto my yesterdays "out at the gate of childhood, not of
death." I have strayed from my integrity. Born upright, I
have fouud out too many inventions of an otherness which is ever
the same. I will back to my own world. Farewell, ye wander-
36 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
ing lights and strange configurations — ye shifting punctuations of
the illegible night; my own standpoint shall restore to me the
one sentence I have lost. Northward I went forth — negative,
self-diremptive : I left Areturus behind me; the diamond shaft
of Alcyone pierced no longer the dewlaps of The Bull ; I shook
the cable of that utmost world whose silver lea-wales lap our deep-
est blue. 1 return by the southern pole. Okion ! again I greet
thee : a hunter too was I ; the game flavor of the infinite enchant-
ed me, and lured me on. But now be these happy tear-drops
in my eyes? or do I see again, as long ago upon the Indian Ocean,
watching with the lady of my love, I saw, through the Oriental
twilight, white, liquid, palpitating, the jewels of The Cross ?
Again, pale spectre of His pleading arms ? Plead thou no more :
I come — but my eyes are Earthward bent. I see the Sabbath
morning and the golden hills, and in the clangor of a hundred
mellow bells — calling slowly, Calvary ! Calvary / — I learn the les-
son of His coming and my own : mine is the infinite ; I, too, am
divine.
y.
THE HUMAN ALPHABET. — THE " KRATYLUS " OF PLATO, ETC.
We have urged the notion that the implicit and the explicit are
coincident. There is no more thought than there is expression
for, either as adopted in forms of things or in conventional terms.
In all discussion of the topic of language the onus falls upon the
origin of it, as if special thoughts preceded language, rolling and
weltering like cats in a bag, striving for light and exit. The anx-
iety seems equally strenuous when we fancy language wandering
about, seeking a meaning to invest it. " In the beginning was
the word." Thought and language seem to come together. What
is all our cogitating and writing but an effort to wed form and
the formless? Language is built on and on, like the bents of a
bridge, one sliding out over another ; and while it is mainly con-
ventional — as the thousand human languages amply prove in their
wholly arbitrary difference — yet the same properties of intelli-
gence which make a dot stand well for a centre make certain
sounds specially fit and happy in suggesting their appropriate
conceptions. In this respect we may say of language as of reli-
gion : Many are the altars, but the flame is one — however dull
o
Philosophical Reveries. 37
that flame may appear among people whose needs have not yet
lifted expression to the uses of an art.
All the reading of my serious years has been attended by this
side consideration : that each of the sounds represented by the
several letters of the alphabet is specially effective in convey-
ing a certain significance ; and wherever language is popular
and happy it is so in accordance with these early intuitions.
That I was not singular in this sensitiveness I was assured by
hints dropped by Swedenborg and the poet Burns ; but I had not as
yet chanced upon the " Kratylus" of Plato when, in 1854, 1 anony-
mously issued, through James Munro and Company, of Boston, a
characterization of the meanings of all the alphabetic sounds.
The subject of that essay came up to me again, some years after-
ward, on the occasion of Mr. Stephen Pearl Andrews's issuing his
theory in the " Continental Magazine." Seeing his article therein,
I sent him my essay, and received in return his cordial astonish-
ment at the fact that I, an unread tyro, had come by nature or
instinct upon mainly the same results which he claimed to have
deduced as scientific necessities. He said his next article in the
" Continental " should include the gist of my essay ; but, sadly
enough, the magazine had come to its final end. In 1868 I made
some extracts from my essay for " Putnam's Magazine," and that
periodical also soon after went under in the current of literature.
In all this time I knew nothing of the " Kratylus," and I do not
know even now whether Mr. Andrews was better informed than
myself. These statements are to be considered — and, fortunately,
it is the custom of gentlemen to believe one another — otherwise
what follows might seem at best only a lesson improved; but
when it truly appears that as a youth of inconsiderable reading I
in English unknowingly concurred with Plato in Greek, in the
interpretation of the sounds of a dozen of the letters, the fact has
philological value as an unprejudiced approval of Plato's observa-
tion. For my own part I can cheerfully forego the originality for
the comfort of the coincidence. There is good assurance that Plato
did not borrow from my list, in the fact that in any case he left sev-
eral of the more significant letters behind him ; and even those
meanings which he did express seem to have only a brawny imme-
diacy which would be useless in the far and fine suggestions of mod-
ern poetical art. In saying they seem to have this quality I am
38 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
considering how far any scholar, not born to the Greek language
and manner, must come short of that wit and humor which the
''Kratylus" undoubtedly embodied for one familiar with Greek
precedent and current Greek slang; for the "Kratylus" was the
same to Plato's audience as would be to us a clever exposition of
the slang and the fortunate poetical expressions of our own times.
It is next to an impossibility that any one now living should read
that work with the insight whereby it was written.
I shall not here enter that laborious region of the science of
language whose tangled cross-purposes were the spur of the " Kraty-
lus," involving as they do questions of the like and the double,
substance and form, being and existence, and so on through abso-
lute idealism into the intricacies of self-relation, but shall give my
alphabet, and then proceed to briefly exemplify the force of each
letter — or rather of the sound of each letter; for in Greek a was
sounded as ah, rj was sounded like our a, etc. Yet firstly we must
come to an understanding as to the basis or canon of criticism in
our art. A jury of common-sense men might be excused for a
verdict, on their book oath, that there is not a word of sense in
what follows; but the same jury, asked if they had ever heard
" The horns of elf-land faintly blowing,"
would doubtless protest that they never had. Neither would I
accept the greatest poetical genius in the world's record — Shake-
speare confessedly — as a judge hereof, so soon as I would accept
Tennyson or Swinburne. We are not concerned with the ma-
jesty or the symmetry of what is uttered in language, but with the
subtle associative art of uttering it — in which art the Laureate has
excelled all other men. The use of words of mere onomatopy —
buzz, hiss, wheeze, sneeze, splash, slush, hum, roar, jingle — re-
quires little or no skill ; but the meagre and savage art which
produced these imitations was precursory and prophetic of a later
and more delicate and more complex suggestiveness, the voice of
the same instinct in the presence of all the facts and fancies which
this brightest age remembers and conceives, a suggestiveness reach-
ing beyond mere sounds to the faintest modes and qualities of
fibre, surface, lustre, distance, motion, humor, solemnity, con.
tempt — characters won out of all the phenomena of life, and
answering to the fullest knowledge, or intuition, or inspiration, ot
Philosophical Reveries. 39
all the mental phenomena of the world at the moment of its use,
to the true estimate of the comparative age and aesthetic value of
thought and things — in brief, to the universality of experience.
We are ready to allow that no man ever earnestly wrote a verse
that was not poetry to him at the time ; but the experience of
the majority of the sons of Parnassus has not been coincident with
that of a sufficient constituency to render their impressions con-
siderable. Besides, the basis of wit and poetry fluctuates and ex-
tends. A great genius drains a great area; he destroys the old
balances and standards. The essence we would precipitate rises
as an aroma out of the process of the growth and decay of all
things, and it is effected bv considerations the faintest and most
remote, in the attenuations of which a great poet may transcend
the apprehension of his less devoted readers.
man's natural alphabet.
a: vastness, space, plane.
a: flatness.
o: brawn, bulk, initial force.
c : soft, as s ; hard, as k.
ch. tch : a disgusting consistency.
d: (initial) determination, violence.
d: (final) solidity, end.
e: convergence, intensity, concentration.
/; )
h: V ethereality, fineness of fibre.
t: \
g : (hard) hardness.
gl: hardness and polish.
gr: hardness and roughness, grit, grain.
%: thinness, slimness, fineness.
* : inclining directions.
Tc: fineness of light and sound.
I: polish, chill, liquidity.
m : monotony.
n : negation, contempt.
o : volume, solemnity, nobility.
p : volume without fibre, pulp.
q : queer, questionable.
•iO The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
r: roughness, vibration.
s : moisture.
sh : wet confusion.
u: crudity, absurdity.
v, w, y : vehemence, general emphasis.
z: haze, dry confusion.
Diphthongs :
an: vaulting, curving upward.
ou : roundness, curving downward.
oi: coil — external.
ei : coil — internal.
ia : downward and away — flourish.
As the compositor locates his types before him in his case for
his own convenience rather than as following the conventional
order of the alphabet, so we must treat firstly the five vowels on
which all the other letters expend their force.
[The reader will please to bear in mind that the letters as such
are arbitrary, and that the sounds are the important consideration.
The Greek pronunciation was like our own, convertible to fashion :
a (as in ah) was convertible to 6 (as omikron) ; the xEolians used
either ; a was also sounded as 77 (a), and doubtless 1 was sometimes
sounded e, as it is in southern Europe to-day. Omega (the long
0) was convertible with 00 (as in cool), and with au, ou, as well as
with a, as in father, or 0, as in bother].
a. — "Far, far away, over the calm and mantling wave" — so
begins the boy's first romance — the poetry of the ocean, of vast-
ness, space, plane. The word, ocean, is used only for rolling and
dashing effects ; the wave, the main, vast waters, watery waste, or
plain, are the poetical synonyms of ocean. Lake, vale, straight,
chase, race, trail, trace, away, give distance and plane. Near at
hand, long a gives effect to slate, scale, flake, plate, cake, etc.
Waver, shake, quake, show horizontal vibration.
a. — The flat a shows its effect in mat, pack, strap, slap, platter,
flap, pat, flat, clap, etc.; dash, splash, thrash, give flat and low-
down effects. A stone much broken, yet retaining its bulk, is
said to be crushed, but if its form is borne down it is mashed,
smashed, etc. Barns, in his poem, " The Vowels," calls a " a
Philosophical Reveries. 41
grave, broad, solemn wight " ; this character belongs to a only as
in ah, or 6 flat.
e. — Swedenborg said that the angels who love most use much
the sound of o, while the more intellectual and penetrating use
more the sound of e. Burns's notion of e was that of intense grief,
as in " greeting " (that is, in Scotch, weeping). The Greek ejacu-
lation for grief or regret (as we would say alas! or the like) was
"e-e/" Plato seems to have not observed it. The general use
of e is for concentration and convergence, or intensity, the bring-
ing of thought to a focus. All the pet names and endearing
diminutives end in e — the wee things — the le-etle, te-eny things.
The child dwells on the e in pe-ep, or pe-ek, and in me-an, ke-en, sne-
aking, etc. Not so the baby when he gives you his rattle-box ; he
opens his mouth and his heart with the instinct of the dative case,
and says " tah ! " — outward and away. So when he gets the wrong
thing in his mouth his mother cries " Ka ! spit it out ! " whence,
possibly, the Greek /ca/eo? — bad, as applied to things. The intro-
spective Hamlet says, " making night hideous and we fools of na-
ture " instead of us, the objective case. Zeal, squeal, screech — to
he, to see, to feel, are strong by the use of e.
t. — I, short, as in pin, has a stiff, prim, thin, slim, spindling
effect, as of the " bristling pines " ; or when " Swift Camilla "
" skims along the main." It has a thinning, perpendicularly at-
tenuating effect. A "light skiff" is well mentioned; and a thin
whiff.
" hark, O hear, how thin and clear ! "
Short i has a very lightening effect in sounds : as in tinkle,
clink, link — thin metallic sounds of a perpendicular vibration-
But flat, or horizontal vibration uses a, as in clank — as of a sheet
of zinc slapping the floor ; how different from the clang of a bar
of steel ! Tinh a good word for that metal in the thin shape most
commonly known ; but in the native bulk and volume we call it
Nock.
I. — Long i gives inclination. " The clouds consign their trea-
sures to the field." " In winter when the dismal rain comes down
in slanting lines."
I long and a give a poetical curve, downward and away :
" Once in the flight of ages past."
" Many an hour I've whiled away."
42 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
" Swilled by the wild and wasteful ocean."
" Some happier island in the watery waste."
" O when shall it dawn on the night of the grave ? "
" Athens, and Tyre, and Balbec, and the waste
Where stood Jerusalem."
" O, wild enchanting horn ! "
o. — Plato seems to have done miserable injustice in character-
izing for simple roundness the vowel o — the noblest Roman, or
Greek either, of them all. Roundness is well enough — although
roundness proper is represented by on diphthong — but roundness is
merely the key to volume, solemnity, nobility, and wonder. Read
this most solemn sentence in all literature, and see at once the
more serious meaning of o.
« Por man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the
streets"
Not all the trappings and the suits of woe can so pall the sun-
light in the homes of men as does the fit reading of this sombre
verse. Burns's idea of o was expressed in " the wailing minstrel
of despairing woe." Swedenborg's insight was rather one of ado-
ration or devotion. But these comparatively incidental expres-
sions give way before the philological art of more modern writ-
ers. All things noble, holy, adorable, or sombre, slow, sober, dol-
orous, mournful, devotional, or old, lone, sole, glorious, or even
bold, portly, pompous, find their best expression in the o sound.
Jehovah, Jove, Lord God, exalt the soul. O ! ho ! lo ! are ex-
clamations which nations use with little variance.
" O Rome ! my country, city of the soul,
The orphans of the heart must turn to thee ! "
" O sad Nomore ! sweet Nomore."
" Roll on, thou deep and dark-blue ocean, roll ! "
" Their shots along the deep slowly boom."
" The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way."
Most people think of a boulder as a big, bulky stone ; the dic-
tionaries use the word for a class of stones of which one need not
be greater than a pea. The o gives the volume, and the initial b
gives the bulk and brawn — which make our favorite dictionary
Philosophical Reveries. 43
so popular as the " unaBridged." Yet in pebble, which is one
third made up of b, we get no bulk at all, owing to e and jt>.
it. — Burns had some notion of the effect of u ; he speaks of it
as " grim, deformed, with horrors entering"; but obviously this
was only a careless glance of that great genius, who probably had
never thought of the character before, and who possibly never
thought of it again. As no one else, to my knowledge, has given
any character of u, and for the purpose of showing the reader how
possessed I was by this philological art or instinct in my youth, I
will quote in full my definition of u of thirty years ago. The
slang of it will be excused on the consideration that slang is w's
best hold, and about all he is any good at.
U, guttural, or flat, is a humorous savage, best described in his
own words : a huge, lubberly, blundering dunderhead, a blubber-
ing numskull and a dunce, ugly, sullen, dull, clumsy, rugged, gul-
lible, glum, dumpish, lugubrious — a stumbler, raumbler, bungler,
grumbler, jumbler — a grunter, thumper, tumbler, stunner — a
drudge, a trudge; he lugs, tugs, sucks, juggles, and is up to all
manner of bulls — a musty, fussy, crusty, disgusting brute, whose
head is his mug, his nose is a snub, or a pug, his ears are lugs, his
breasts dugs, his bowels guts, his victuals grub, his garments duds,
his hat a plug, his child a cub, his dearest diminutive is chub or
bub or runt ; at his best he is bluff, gruff, blunt ; " his doublet is
of sturdy buff, and though not sword, is cudgel proof" ; budge he
will not, but will drub you with a club, or a slug, nub, stub, butt,
or rub you with mud — for he is ever in a muss or a fuss — and
should you call him a grudging curmudgeon he gulps up u uh !
fudge ! stuff! rubbish ! humbug ! " in high dudgeon ; he is a rough,
a blood-tub, a bummer, and a tough cuss all around ; he has some
humor, more crudity, but no delicacy ; of all nations you would
take him for a Dutchman.
In spite of all this, u long seems to give force to the true, the
pure, the beautiful, and the good. " True blue " is a proverb of
the highest worth, while rude and crude are the opposite. But
the u is not the characterizing letter in these latter words, which
get their roughness from r.
Of the diphthongs, au seems to me effective in vault (to leap or
swing), flaunt, toss (taus), saunter, jaunt, haughty, walk, halting.
and the like. Ou is the curve of roundness, as in bough, bovj
44 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
down, crown, around, mound, bound (tied around). " Down the
shouldering billows borne." Oi strikes me forcibly in coil. Iou
is a favorite curve with the poets.
" And false the light on glory's plume."
" The wide old wood resounded to her song."
" Of love's, and night's, and ocean's solitude."
But the vowels are weak and delicate when compared with the
consonants, which give to language its fibre and its nerve.
b. — As a special intensity, b represents the disposition to swell
out the cheeks and utter an exaggerating and sometimes con-
temptuous explosion, such as boo ! bah! bosh! bully, bravo ! etc.
B gives volume in a crude and semi-humorous mode. Thus
brawny, brusque, blunt, burly, bulky, big, bully, brassy, besides
carrying a certain direct and proper meaning, reject all refinement
in favor of a humorous brag, burlesque, and exaggeration of the
Brobdingnagian "unabridged" order. It is especially strong in
connection with u short — a regular " buster," a " big bug," bug-
bear, Bluebeard, and bugaboo — a bombastic, brazen buck and
blower.
c. — This letter is onlv s and h as convertible, and has little indi-
viduality ; that little is a kind of slipperiness ; ch and tch are
used for absurdity as bordering on disgust. Thus in itch, bitch,
botch, pitch, hutch, scotch (to haggle or wound), smutch, smirch,
screech, etc., a class of words avoided by refined society, because
their humor is offensive.
d. — Plato uses d and t alike for determination or binding at an
end. We see the effect of d immediately in toad, sod, clod, load,
rugged, leaden, dead. The short report of a heavily-loaded pistol
is well caught in the word explode.
" Earth's cities had no sound nor tread,
And ships were drifting with the dead
To shores where all was dumb."
As initial, or beginning a word, d shows a resolved or violent
disposition, as if the teeth were set : thus in damn, dare, do, dig,
drive, dogged, etc. The metal lead is well named ; so are iron,
tin, and silver. What little effect I has, as apart from h, is cer-
tainly similar to that of d, as Plato averred.
Philosophical Reveries. 45
f h, t, and th. — These are the ethereal, softening letters, whose
fibre is the most fine and atteunated, as of breath without reso-
nance. Thus in smooth, soothe, breathe, feathery , Lethean, mtiffied,
smothered, far, faint, forgetful, Sabbath, suffocate, froth, stuff,
muff, whiff, etc.
" The effusive South
Warms the wide air, and o'er the vault of heaven
Breathes the big clouds, with vernal showers distent.
At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise,
Scarce staining ether.''''
" Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls
Her watery labyrinth."
g, I, and r. — These are the giant consonants, expressive of un-
questionable and unequivocal power. There is no humor, chaff, or
nonsense about them, and " baby talk " excludes them. Each has
a distinct force, which yet is most effective in union with one of
the others. G is the hard letter, r is the rough and vibratory let-
ter, and I is the chilling and polishing letter. Thus gr gives the
hard roughness to grit, grate, grind, grained, gravel, grim, grudge,
groid, groan, grunt, etc., while gl is effective in glass, glary, glide,
etc. H by itself is strong in bur, mar, blur, scar, rude, roar, rush,
writhe, scour, crisp, fry, fritter, fragment, broken, gnarled, burly,
torrent, etc., etc.
" The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar."
" The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls."
"The crisped brooks," says Milton, and a hundred poets after
him.
" Though the ocean's inmost heart be pure,
Yet the salt fringe that daily licks the shore
Is gross with sand."
Foreknowing that s is the wet or moist letter, note how the
brackish wash, the grit of the sand in the brine, is rendered in the
word gross above. Tennyson, also, has a quick expression of
this briny wash, where the sail-boat is said to " cut the shrill salt,"
etc. But how dry and deep-carved is the figure following, of a
sleeping poet :
" Dropt in my path like a great cup of gold,
All rich and rough with stories of the gods."
46 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
L, by itself, makes all clear, cold, lucid, placid, liquid ; it is the
polish of glow, gleam, glide, glassy, glitter, glance, etc. Solid glass
is a clear expression. The I lends the cold, metallic quality to the
solidity of lead ; it gives lustre and ring to silver, as the r rough-
ens and darkens iron. L and g carry most of the metallic sounds :
ring, clang, jingle, etc., etc. "Hear the sledges with their bells/'
For the little bells we have " the tintinnabulation that so musikally
swells."
k. — iTmust be taken into all account of fine sounds and lights,
usually with i and aj thus in twinkle, tinkle, flicker, sparkle,
crackle, link, chink, trickle; so in fibrous attenuations: nick,
splick (the quarry man's name for a chip of stone), skin, %k\>ff
skip, skim, skive, sketch.
" How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icv air of ni^ht,
While the stars that over-sprinkle
All the heavens seem to twinkle
With a krystalline delight ! "
This of Poe is comparatively cheap work, but the reader must
detect in it the same instinct by which the far-seeing Tennyson
makes the steeds in Tithonus
" — shake the darkness from their loosened manes,
And beat the twilight into flakes of fire."
" — e'er my steps
Forgot the barefoot feel of the clay world.''''
" Like scaled oarage of a keen, thin fish."
" — whose diapason whirls
The clanging constellations round the pole."
I cannot, of course, be sure that the general reader is with me
at the insight of these fine distinctions, and I beg him to consider
that I might well exchange my confidence in his mutual appre-
ciation for a vindictive and scientific criticism, which should prove
my positions out of the preferences (some might call them thiev-
eries) of the poets themselves. Take these letters, k and I. Burns
sang :
" Peggy, dear, the evening's clear,
Swift flies the skimming swallow."
Philosophical Reveries. 47
Both Tennyson and Alexander Smith appropriate the skimming
swallow. Or take the word clanging, quoted above. It first ap-
pears in the " Odyssey," applied to geese. Mr. Alexander Smith
(who gave promise of poetry) grasped the situation as his own.
He sings :
" Unto whose fens on midnights blue and cold
Long strings of geese come clanging from the stars."
Shelley, in " The Revolt of Islam," is so beset by this notion of
clanging that he uses it. twice :
" With clang of wings and scream the eagle passed."
" With clang of wings and scream the eagle flew."
In spite of this repetition, the Laureate clangs three times more :
in " Locksley Hall " he " leads the clanging rookery home " ; in " The
Princess," " The leader wild swan in among the stars would clang
it" ; and again, in the same, "But I, an eagle, clang an eagle to
the sphere." There may seem little apposition of clanging and
mere flesh and feathers, according to the genius of the letters as
herein assumed ; but if one will consider eagle a hard word, for a
hard, metallic bird, fit to fight a golden-scaled serpent in the air,
then the clanging may come in with high poetical advantage. So
midnight " blue and cold," with a glitter of crystal stars, and the
yelling, and jangling, and mingling of geese, may iind voice in
clanging.
m. — This is the letter of dreamy murmur and monotony ; hum,
rumble, moan are onomatopoetic.
n. — All nations agree in saying no. There is hardly a language
in the world in which n is not the chief element of negation.
Plato makes n the sign of inwardness (as translated) ; intensity of
withdrawal were better. It is a nasal sound, which is intensified
by drawing up the muscles of contempt at the sides of the nose —
as when we dwell upon mean, sneaking, n-asty.
p. — This letter shows the character I have given it in such words
as plump, lump, pulp, voluptuous, sleep, dump, ripe, lip, purple.
q. — Queer, questionable, quaint, quizzical, quip, quirk, quiddity,
quillet, sqtieak, squeal, squeamish, squelch, qualm, quit, quash,
etc., show q as the organ of the whimsical and outre — the very
opposite of o.
48 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
s. — Moist, misty, nasty, sticky, steam, slip, slop, slush, dash,
swash, drizzle, all suggest water in its different stages ; even ice is
kept wet by the c. Luscious, delicious, nutritious, suggest juicy
substances.
Sh, either initial or final, suggests moist confusion ; thus, initial-
ly, we have shiver, shatter, shake, shrivel, shrink, shred • finally,
we have dash, clash, lash, thrash, swash, smash, trash, rush, gush,
mush, slush, etc.
" — the sun new risen
Looks through the horizontal #nisty air
Shorn of his beams."
" The stars obtuse emit a s/iivered ray."
" One showed an English home — gray twilight poured
On dewy pastures, dewy trees,
Softer than sleep — all things in order stored,
A haunt of ancient peace."
v. — Perhaps one tenth of the words which begin with v have an
element of vehemence : vim, violence, victory, vanquish, velocity,
vigor, vice, vengeance, villainy.
IF and y also have general emphasis.
z. — This is a dreamy letter, of hazy, mazy, dry confusion ; a
lazy, drowzy, dozing, furzy, dizzy, vizionary atmosphere attends
it, in which the genius of Thomson delighted.
" A pleazing land of drowzy head it waz."
plato's alphabet.
a. — Size.
7). — Length.
[ Binding, detention in place.
i. — Motion ; usually ai or ei.
\. — Liquidity and polish.
7. — Detention or fixity of liquid.
v. — Inwardness, withdrawing.
o. — Roundness.
p. — Roughness and vibration.
)■ Wind, moisture, and confusion.
Philosophical Reveries. 49
VI.
ONTOLOGY : TIME : CAUSE : MOTION, THE PARADOX OF ACHILLES, ETC.
We have seen that difference, motion, size, etc., are not proper-
ties of things, but are relations existing only in contrasting intelli-
gence. A thing cannot move in reference to itself, save as it goes
to pieces and makes another of itself. Of two bodies that seem
to have moved, neither has moved with reference to itself; with
reference to the other, the other has moved ; both these state-
ments hold the motion to be only with reference to other, and in-
telligence is the other of both. — " So, with this motion before my
very eyes, and the result of it apparent in the two bodies being
nearer to each other than they were before, you affirm that these
bodies have not moved?" — They have not moved, and they can-
not move. — " This is nonsense.'"' — True enough. — " Well, has my
mind moved?" — Possibly not. — "Has there been any motion at
all ? " — Possibly not. — " That is / nonsense. So, then, Achil-
les cannot overtake the tortoise?" — No ; the necessity that he
should tirst cover a half of the distance between himself and the
tortoise, then a half of what remains, and so forever a half of a re-
mainder, has never been confuted. The space is subjective, and
has no sensuous measure. — "And when Achilles in plain flesh
and blood lays his hand upon the tortoise, that is no proof? "
None. — " And when Diogenes, in response to the thesis that mat-
ter cannot move, gets up and walks, this is no proof?" None;
for look upon this picture, and on this : first the Achilles who
would pursue the tortoise, then him who has the tortoise in hand :
the latter is an older man y the tortoise has a tougher look, and all
tilings in the surrounding world are different ; in brief, this is not
the same world at all. And the difference of one world from an-
other is not a motion, neither is it a change in either world. The
arrow in its flight may be in each instant stationary in the stuff
and build of a different world. That which is different is other;
it is not becoming other ; and all change is difference of observa-
tion and relation.
" If there are no motion and no change in sensuous things, then
nothing comes to be which before was not ? " — No more can be
than rationally is ; and this was always true. There is no reason
for what is not; but for what there is reason, that is and ever
XX— 4
50 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
was. Especially is there no becoming reason, and hence no rea-
son for becoming to a sufficient intelligence. — "What, then, is the
cause of a thing?" — The thing itself in reason. To say there is
something yet to be which never was, even in the thought or the
sufficient intelligence wherein the world is rational rather than a
blind and orphan waif, is to ignore all reason. This is not saying
there may not be novel sensuous demonstration to a local intelli-
gence that has local sensuous limits of experience; but in the
sufficient intelligence all things always are, and are rational.
Aught that shall be assumed as contingently coming to be can
have only freedom as its origin; and freedom has no fertility or
invention, and is not a reason for any special thing, but the very
vacuity of a tendency to or a ground for anything in preference
to its room. Neither is there in time any principle or originality
whereby aught should come of its process.
We understand by time, in its general aspect, the order of rea-
son ; in its particular aspect, the order of experience. The very
nature of principle, as rational theoretical origin, evolves time in
its practical explication. Principle is order and process to the
particular intelligence ; beginning and ending and becoming are
items of particular intelligence — simple observation. An order
or process begun in any quarter of reason becomes historical in
the unity of a race. These evolutions are at once exhaustive and
specific of the method of the principle ; the totality implicated in
all unity makes theoretically possible the connection of all expe-
rience in a single time process.
If we remove from reality the time element, then this of cause
and effect will appear only a rational connection of phases in a
certain order, over which local or partial intelligence may pass in
any direction, making time. If now the reality were such inde-
pendently of knowing, all things forever forefinished would be
comparatively plausible and simple, and the present tense would
be a subjective, personal, local, limited exploitation, held to a
certain forward movement — due possibly to a practical thesis and
antithesis comporting with the theoretical genesis whereby thought
must find reality rational — and this process in consciousness would
be time, harmonious with the theoretical evolution of the first prin-
ciple ; and while a whole race of men might advance abreast in
one present tense, exploiting the conditions in a uniform growth
Philosophical Reveries. 51
and decay, it would by no means follow that the eternal condi-
tions or laws should be worn out or altered, but the same time and
space might be used or made over and over again. But when, by
the introduction of knowledge, we posit an element or a factor
which has a part at least in the making of that reality (of things
of which we may not say they are, save as they are known), the
existence of the reality demands as eternally requisite the same
exploitive thought whereby we posit it as being in a present tense,
but which, as it seems to us, now has the duration of only our hu-
man mortal life. We should be eternal with the things we make
and do, especially so far as the reality of any event involves our
private pleasures and pains. An event in history, for instance,
involves the private feelings of the actors, and takes its chief in-
terest therefrom ; how can the scene or event be either foreknown
or remembered, or founded in the sufficient intelligence, save as
the actors themselves are there in their parts ? And of all tilings
whatsoever it may be said that, without the present exploiting
intelligence, the conditions (or the legal skeleton of things) are ab-
solutely nothing, either for reason or conception. Whatever is
implicit in reason must be coincident! y explicit in time, or else
idealism is vain.
" If the arrow in its flight is stationary in the build of a differ-
ent world, how of two arrows, of which one is swifter than the
other? We understand time hereto take the place of motion;
and by each instant having a new world, instead of the arrow mov-
ing, the swifter arrow must have more worlds, or else cover more
space in the same time — and this would infer motion of the swifter
arrow in each world in which the slower arrow is at rest. Or,
again, if the slower arrow is at rest, how is it with an arrow that
is not in flight at all, but at rest among other objects over which
even the slower arrow is flying? is this arrow stiller than the
still?' 1
We have held that motion is a subjective relation ; a tiling that
is stationary among its fellows has fewer relations than one that
seems to move; if the motion is subjective, the swiftness consists
solely in a greater number of relations, or of relations to a greater
number of things.
" If the Achilles who grasps the tortoise is a man different from
him who first pursued it, what is the unity of will and purpose
52 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
which allows him to think himself the same man in the same
world ? "
The unity apparent in the exploiting of the conditions is con-
sciousness concurrent with the theoretical genesis of all from the
first principle — through which not only aught and all is, but is
thus. This continuous identity of the individual is as the notion
of bottom in a rolling wheel : the particle which represents it is
ever yielding to another as the same. The individual is a single
thought or glance. " Good thoughts in him " (as Socrates sug-
gests) are referable only to the theorizing faculty of the race, and
include many, doubtless, which are not formulated in our history.
" And between these worlds — what ? "
Objective nothing. World and no world here mean only at-
tention and rest — life and death.
u The explanation, then, is something equal to nothing : thanks
accordingly ! "
Hear yet the sigh of the JSTaamathite to Job : " That he would
shew thee the secrets of wisdom, that they are double to that which
is." (Job xi, 6.) Hear also verse 16 of the 139th Psalm of David :
" Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being imperfect ; and in thy
book were all my members written, which in continuance were
fashioned, when as yet there was none of them."
An alternative among three hypotheses is plainly before us.
1. All reality is in one common present tense, in which gods and
men advance abreast; it is founded in freedom and contingent
will. 2. The true objective universe is an invisible legal skeleton,
like the multiplication-table, which is so for whomsoever finds it,
and is locally exploited by limited intelligences, so making time.
3. Every moment and the contents of it are eternal, carrying the
actors and their environment ; a man is a siugle thought, and
he is no more whole in a single instance than the whole world of
thought of which he is generically capable is in his consciousness
at once ; what I shall be to-morrow I am to-morrow ; what I was
yesterday I am yesterday — not in an intelligence sufficient with-
out me, but with me as now ; Brutus stabs Caesar in the capital
now — then. So may the universe be rational — new in time and
old in eternity ; and a man in his career, though now, as immedi-
ately seen, the representative of a single thought— like a rocket,
Philosophical Reveries. 53
which, seen at a single point, is but a squib and a stick — yet
viewed continuously may appear an arch of fire.
The first hypothesis, which puts all reality into a present tense,
yet theoretically makes an infinite past and future apprehensible
in the same, turns this uni various noun into a participle — makes
reason a process nowhere, and makes philosophy a method of dis-
covering the method of +.
The second hypothesis — of a legal skeleton of conditions to be
exploited like an old atlas, or a copy of the multiplication-table,
so that time, like space, could be used over and over — takes the
self-relation out of knowledge, and converts reason into mech-
anism.
The third hypothesis — that all things always are, together with
the individual intelligences which their privacy and republican
dignity require — calls (in common with the others) for an intelli-
gence of the whole which is other than the intelligence of the
parts, and which makes what to us seems simply given • like Fal-
staff dying, it " cries out of God " ; and we can only answer with
the knight's nurse, "Now I, to comfort him, said 'a should not
think of God — that I hoped there was no occasion for such
thoughts as yet." But there is occasion, however urgent. Brave-
ly may we live, and do battle with our peers ; but we do not make
a worthy end. Like bald-headed hawkers of an infallible hair-
renewer, we demonstrate immortality and self-relation, and then
die in consequently. Sound enough at the centre, we are whirled
into nothingness on the flying circumference ; and the little that
we know, however it may give us dignity and courage as against
the errors and comparative ignorance of the past, we can but ad-
dress it to the future with a courtesy more cosmopolitan than was
that of our masters gone before — for they might graciously have
said of themselves, what we must now say of both them and us:
" We are ancients of the earth, and in the morning 'of the times."
54 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
THE PROBLEM OF KANT'S " KRITIK DER REINEJS
YERNUNFT." l
BY NICHOLAS MURRAY BUTLER.
It is a fact remarkable, and in some aspects even saddening,
that the theory of development which obtained its first recogni-
tion among students of philosophy, of language, and of religion,
when applied to the study of nature with the marvelous success
which our generation has seen it attain, should be discounte-
nanced, nay, almost repudiated, by the very sciences that first
proclaimed its discover} 7 . It is remarkable because it is so useless,
so short-sighted, so suicidal a step to take. It is saddening be-
cause it betrays the existence of a moral cowardice among those
who should least of all possess it.
Long before Spencer and Darwin and their followers developed
the law of evolution in nature, and insisted, openly as well as tacit-
ly, upon its applicability to the development of the human intel-
lect, what has been most aptly termed the dialectical evolution of
thought and its realization in history and nature were accepted,
not as an hypothesis nor even as a theory, but as established and
well-demonstrated facts. The history of philosophy, when rightly
interpreted, was understood as representing the systematic and
consecutive development of philosophical thought, and the histo-
rian who failed to show the necessity with which one philosophical
system resulted in another and to point out the nexus between
them was denied the title of historian.
Any study of language, of mythology, of religion, of philoso-
phy, which does not take its stand upon the principle of develop-
ment, cannot claim the name of science. As a matter of fact, the
main interest which these sciences possess is not that they unearth
and describe individual, isolated facts, but their very importance
arises from their pointing out the origin and growth of phenome-
na and explaining how what is was the necessary result of what
was. As a mighty river flows on to the ocean, eddying now and
then, bending perhaps to avoid some natural obstacle, slackening
Introductory address before the Columbia College Philosophical Society.
The Problem of Kantfs " Kritik der reinen Vemunft" 55
in speed when nature's encouragement is withheld, so the resist-
less stream of thought follows its natural bent, pausing erewhile,
but its waters never turning to flow up the hill down which they
have but just come. It is by a consideration of this analogy with
Nature that we perceive it to be as much the province and duty
of the science of thought to trace uninterruptedly the course of
speculative reasoning from Thales to Spencer and Mill and von
Hartmann, as it is the province and duty, as well as the eager de-
sire, of natural science to trace the continuous development of the
single cell to the complicated organism of the human body.
At present my desire is to speak briefly concerning the problem
of Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason," that we may perhaps under-
stand the historical conditions and form under which it presented
itself to that great philosopher, as well as to outline the method
which he pursued in its solution. But, to make an immediate ap-
plication of what has been said above, such an understanding is
impossible unless it is attained through a survey, cursory though
it be, of the preceding thought and thinkers.
There had been developed in the so-called schools of Europe,
more rapidly and fully after the eleventh century, that w r hich is
known as Scholasticism, which is best described as an attempt to
formulate the dogmas of the Church in a complete and logical sys-
tem of philosophy. The union between dogma and thought, be-
tween faith and reason, was the peculiarity of the development.
Dogma arose in the Church, and it was now transferred to the
schools for formulation and interpretation.
Scholasticism reached its zenith at the close of the thirteenth
century, when Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus were its leading
exponents. By these men Scholasticism was divided into two
widely differing schools — the one theoretical, holding to the reason
— intellectus — as the chief principle ; the other practical, reserving
that place for the will — voluntas. And it is just at this point that
we ma} 7 date the beginning of the decline of Scholasticism. For,
with the transference of theology to the sphere of practicality by
Scotus, the presupposition of the rationality of dogma, of the unity
of reason and faith, fell away, and the metaphysical basis ot Scho-
lasticism was gone forever.
With this separation of theory and practice, and with the added
separation of thought and thing in nominalism — then coming to
56 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy,
be a ruling theory — philosophy and theology began to diverge.
Reason in the magnificent development of modern philosophy pro-
claimed itself independent of authority, Bacon's idol of the thea-
tre ; in the Reformation the religious consciousness bade a final
farewell to the traditional dogma. The identity of being and
thought was the doctrine that had permeated all Scholastic logic.
All of the mediaeval arguments presupposed that anything proved
syllogistically had the same constitution in actuality that it had in
logical thought. When this cloud lifted, Scholasticism was ex-
posed, a magnificent ruin, to the full light of reason ; and thought,
mistaken concerning its own objectivity, was driven back upon
itself.
Close upon the fall of Scholasticism and the Reformation fol-
lowed the great discoveries in natural science which have made
immortal the names of Copernicus, Kepler, Galileo, and Newton.
It is from their time that empirical science can date the begin-
ning of its continuous history. This spirit of scientific inquiry
quickly destroyed a host of inherited errors and prejudices, and,
what was of perhaps even greater moment, it directed the atten-
tion of men to the actual, to the world in which they lived. How-
ever, it encouraged, nay, almost required, a habit of reflection, a
feeling of personal self-dependence, and awakened a searching
scrutiny and doubt. The w T hole movement takes for granted an
independent self -consciousness in the individual, a throwing off by
him of authority and its dogmatic assertions — in short, it presup-
poses skepticism. Therefore it was that Bacon and Descartes, the
leaders of the new philosophical movement, began with skepti-
cism ; Bacon, by requiring the detection and removal of all preju-
dices and preconceived notions as a condition of the study of na-
ture, Descartes, in his fundamental principle, doubt everything.
Happily there is no disagreement as to where Scholasticism
ends and modern philosophy begins. Bacon and Descartes are
the universally acknowledged pioneers of modern thought, in its
broadest sense. As to the share of honor belonging to each, men
of course differ ; but, without entering upon a tedious explanation,
we shall not be far from the truth if we hold that to Bacon mod-
ern thought owes its method and its form, while to Descartes it is
indebted for its direction and material. Bacon gave it the how,
Descartes the what.
The Problem of KanVs "Kritik der reinen YernunftP 57
As to the line of development from Bacon and Descartes, vari-
ous historians take very different views, and no two iind exactly
the same sequence or use precisely the same nomenclature ; but
one great truth must be admitted by them all, namely, the first
division of modern philosophy must be into the pre-Kantian and
post-Kantian periods. All previous philosophy leads up to Kant,
all subsequent philosophy springs more or less directly from
him.
It is this fact that makes a true understanding of the work per-
formed by Kant so vitally important to all students of philosophy
to-day. As Kant's most recent translator has well said: "We
need not be blind worshippers of Kant, but, if for the solution of
philosophical problems we are to take any well-defined stand, we
must, in this century of ours, take our stand on Kant. Kant's
language — and by language is meant more than mere words — has
become the i lingua franca ' of philosophy, and not to be able to
speak it is like studying ancient philosophy without being able to
speak Aristotle, or modern philosophy without being able to speak
Descartes."
The latest division of modern philosophy regards Descartes as
the source, and divides subsequent speculation into developments
from him, as follows : the Materialistic, embracing Gassendi and
Hobbes; the Idealistic, including Geulinx, Malebranche, and
Berkeley; the Monistic, Spinoza; the Empirical, Locke; the In-
dividualistic, Leibniz ; the Skeptical, Hume.
Another mode of division, and this has the advantage of ex-
treme simplicity, is to consider modern philosophy as flowing in
two divergent courses, the one arising in the empiricism of Bacon
and leading through Hobbes, Locke, and Berkeley, to the skepti-
cism of Hume ; the other, arising in the rationalism of Descartes
and proceeding through Spinoza and Leibniz to the dogmatism of
Wolff. It will be observed that the former of these developments
is entirely British, the latter wholly Continental.
But we shall prefer to begin with Bacon and Descartes, and
trace in outline the course of the latter's philosophy as developed
by Geulinx, Malebranche, and Spinoza, and then to follow that
classification which, at this point, finds a separation of speculative
thought into the realistic development represented by Locke,
Hume, Condillac, and Helvetius, and the idealistic, whose expo-
58 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
nents are Leibniz, Berkeley, and Wolff. We shall then find the
opposition of the two schools irreconcilable on any existing basis,
and how Kant stepped in to correct, classify, and limit the theo-
ries of both.
We ma}' sum up Bacon's work as follows : He pointed out actual
fact, and so nature, as the proper object for the observation and
reflection of mankind ; he elevated experience and its method of
induction from a position as a matter of chance to a separate and
independent object of thought, and he succeeded in rousing a gen-
eral feeling of its necessity.
Descartes did far more than indicate a method. From the stand-
point of absolute freedom from all enthralling presuppositions he
formulated a positive, materially full, philosophical principle, and
endeavored to deduce from it the fundamental conceptions of a
philosophical system.
The starting-point of Descartes was skepticism, thorough, con-
sistent, universal ; we must doubt everything. Yet, assuming
everything else to be false, there remains one single fact that is
bevond doubt, and that is, that we who doubt exist. The exist-
ence of a subject that doubts is clearly and necessarily implied in
the doubting. Cogito, ergo sum, therefore, is the first postulate of
Descartes. By his famous ontological argument he then demon-
strates the existence and perfection of God. From the true idea
of God follows the theory of the duality of substance.
Descartes defines substance as that which requires for its exist-
ence the existence of nothing else. In this most comprehensive
sense only God is substance. But the two created substances — the
thinking substance or mind, and the bodily substance or matter —
are substances in a more limited sense. They may be defined as
things requiring for their existence only the existence of God.
Mind and matter each has an attribute peculiar to it. Extension
is the attribute of matter, thought is the attribute of mind. Mat-
ter and mind, then, are essentially diverse and have nothing in
common. To the natural and inevitable inquiry as to how the
thinking substance, the ego, relates itself to extended substance,
Descartes can only answer, " As thinking." So for the unity of
his two substances there remains only the idea of God. Through
God, then, does the ego obtain the certainty of the existence of
extended substance. Such an agency must be external. At this
The Problem of Kant's "Kritik der reinen Vernunjt." 59
point is the defect in the Cartesian philosophy that calls forth the
systems that follow.
Descartes had built a barrier between consciousness and the
world. It is the essence of each to abstract itself from the other.
How can any nexus between them be possible? This was the
problem that confronted Geulinx and Malebranche, and for which
they proposed a solution.
Accepting the Cartesian antithesis between mind and matter,
they hold that there is no way left but to seek in God the means
of making the desired connection. Every operation, then, that
combines the ego and the world is not an effect of the ego nor
an effect of the world, but simply an immediate act of God. On
the occasion of a physical process, God calls up an answering idea
in my mind ; on the occasion of an act of will, God causes a cor-
responding movement of the body. Hence the term Occasional-
ists is often applied to these thinkers, and their theory is that
of occasional causes. The reasoning of Geulinx and Malebranche
merely developed the fundamental dualism of Descartes to its
ultimate conclusion. The connection between mind and body
which Descartes explained as a violent collocation becomes under
this new theorv a miracle. And it follows that no immanent but
only a transcendental principle of union between the two sub-
stances is possible. This is the conclusion reached by a special
endeavor to harmonize the Cartesian duality on its own princi-
ples, and admitting its own presuppositions.
From the dualistic doctrine of substance forced and supernatu-
ral theories like that just mentioned become unavoidable conse-
quences. But one way out of the difficulty remains, and that is
to deny its independence to either mind or matter, give up the
hypothesis that both are substances, and regard each as but a form
of manifestation of one substance. Descartes in his doctrine of
God had already cleared the ground for the building up of this
theory. It was reserved, however, for the great Spinoza to give
expansion to this doctrine of the accidentality of the finite and the
exclusive substantiality of God.
Spinoza accepts as his starting-point the Cartesian definition of
substance, namely : Substance is that which depends for its exist-
ence upon the existence of nothing else. But with this definition
Spinoza holds that any duality of substances is inconsistent, im-
60 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
possible, and illogical. For only a single substance' can exist, as
that which had its being through itself alone is by implication
infinite, unconditioned, and unlimited by anything else. This one
substance Spinoza describes as infinite, excluding all determina-
tion and negation of itself, the one being in every being — God.
Thought and extension become now the attributes in which the
single substance reveals itself to us, in so far as it is the cause of
all that is. These attributes are determinations which express the
nature of substance in these precise forms only for perception.
The two attributes are, then, nothing but empirically derived de-
terminations behind which stands substance, the absolute infinite
which cannot be comprehended in any such special notions. Any
means of connection between the absolute substance and these
manifestations of it is not supplied by Spinoza.
As far as their own natural relations are concerned, Spinoza
stands with Descartes and directly opposes the two attributes to
each other. But, as referred to the nature of a single substance,
both are one and the same. The great problem of mind and mat-
ter is thus solved in a wonderfully simple way. As Goethe, ma-
tre pulchra filia pulchrior, says : " There is no mind without
body, no body without mind. Both are one, a unity, which our
thought sees by abstraction, at one time, under the attribute of
thought; at another, under the attribute of extension." Instead
of one matter and one mind, there is a single Something which is
both at once. Either taken in itself is imperfect ; the two are dis-
tinguishable but not separable.
We have reached in Spinoza the culmination and completion of
the Cartesian metaphysics. Descartes, as we have seen, held- to
the antithesis of mind and matter, and had proposed a principle
of union for them. His immediate successors were driven to a
conclusion which laid bare the untenableness of the presupposi-
tion of a dual substance. Spinoza has abandoned this position,
and now thought and extension are one in an infinite substance.
But they are still absolutely separated from each other, because
Spinoza continues to regard thought as only thought, and exten-
sion as only extension ; and this conception necessarily excludes
the one from the other. If an internal principle of union is to be
found, this abstraction of each from the other must be overcome.
The union must be one of the opposites themselves. Two w r ays
The Problem of Kant' '* "Kritik der reinen Vermmft." 61
are possible. We may from the material explain the ideal, or
from the ideal explain the material. Naturally enough, each of
these methods of reconciliation was simultaneously attempted, and
the two great modern developments of Realism and Idealism,
which are still contending for the ascendency, are the result.
First in the realistic development comes the Englishman Locke.
The problem which he places before himself and to which he ap-
plies himself in his great "Essay on the Human Understanding"
is, What is the origin of our ideas ? The scope of Locke's phi-
losophy is his answer to this question, and in it he strenuously in-
sists on two main points: first, which is his negative position,
there are no innate ideas; second, his positive doctrine, all our
knowledge arises from experience. The understanding is in itself
a tabula rasa, and all knowledge is acquired through sensation
and reflection. From these two sources arise all ideas, both sim-
ple, which are those given by one sense, by more than one sense,
or by all ways of sensation and reflection, and complex, which are
combinations of simple ideas. Substance Locke holds to be the
self-subsisting substratum which we conceive as necessary to the
presentation of numerous simple ideas together. What the es-
sence of substance is we cannot tell, for we know only attributes
of substance. The materialism of Locke is plainly seen when he
tells us that it is possible, and even probable, that the soul is a ma-
terial substance.
But Locke's empiricism is not consistent, for he often takes
refuge from the difficulties of empiricism in doctrines that cannot
be derived from experience. Of all the complex ideas given us
by subjective thought, only one, that of substance, has for Locke
an exceptional character of objective reality. But from an em-
pirical standpoint it is inconsistent to admit for substance an ob-
jective reality. If the mind's entire stock of objective knowledge
consists simply of impressions made on it by material things, then
substance must be an arbitrary conjunction of ideas, and, to be
consistent, the ego must be completely emptied and deprived of
the last support on which to base its claim to superiority over
matter.
The task of making empiricism consistent in this respect was
undertaken by Hume, the skeptic, to whom Kant confesses his
indebtedness in these words : "I confess frankly that it was the
62 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
warning voice of David Hume that first, years ago, roused me
from dogmatic slumbers and gave a new direction to my investi-
gations in the field of speculative philosophy." The attack ot
Hume was directed against the key-stone in the arch of knowl-
edge — the idea of causation. It is this idea that makes science
possible, for without it we should possess merely an aggregate of
observations and curious inquiries. The links to form a chain
would be there, but we should have no means of putting them to-
gether.
To quote Schopenhauer : "Before this serious thinker [Hume]
no one had doubted that the principle of sutficient reason — in other
words, the law of causality — stood first and foremost in earth and
heaven. For it was an ' eternal truth,' subsisting independently,
superior to the gods or destiny; everything else — the understand-
ing, which apprehends the principle, as well as the world at large
and whatsover there may be which is the cause of the world, such
as atoms, motion, a creator, or the like — exists only in conformity
with this law and in virtue of it. Hume was the first to whom it
occurred to ask whence this law of causality derived its authority
and to demand its credentials." Locke had already expressed the
opinion that we owe the notion of substance to the custom of al-
ways seeing certain modes together ; and Hume applies the same
explanation to the doctrine of causality.
How do we know, he asks, that two things are related as
Cause and Effect? We cannot know it a priori, for knowledge
a priori only extends to wdiat is identical, and the effect, being
different from the cause, cannot be discovered in it. We cannot
know it from experience, for experience only exhibits a sequence
of events in time. Therefore all our reasonings from experience
are founded on custom. Because we are accustomed to see that
one thing follows another in time, we conceive the idea that the
second must follow the first, and, moreover, must follow from it.
So in the idea of causality we go beyond experience and create
that which has no authority. What is true of causality is true
also of all other relations of so-called necessity. Therefore all no-
tions expressing a relation of necessity rest finally on the associa-
tion of ideas, for experience can never lead to unity and necessity.
From the denial of causality followed the denial of the ego it-
self, and for Hume self is nothing more than a complex of numer-
The Problem of Kant's "Kritik der reinen Vernunft." 63
ous swiftly succeeding ideas, under which complex we conceive a
substratum which we call the ego. The self or ego, therefore,
rests wholly on an illusion. If we owe all our knowledge to per-
ceptions of sense, then all universality and necessity must, in
logical conclusion, disappear ; for they can now be given in sen-
sation.
It is Kant himself who says of Hume : " He took his start prin-
cipally from a single but important metaphysical conception, name-
ly, that of the connection of cause and effect; and he summoned
the reason, which professed to be its author, to give an answer for
herself, and declare by what right she supposes that anything of
such a nature can exist ; that whenever it exists, something else neces-
sarily follows forthwith ; for this is what the conception of cause
involves. He proved conclusively that it was impossible for the
reason to construct a priori such a connection which involves ne-
cessity, for it is impossible to see how, because one thing is, another
thing should necessarily also be, or how the conception of such a
connection should have been introduced a priori. He concluded
from this that the reason was entirely deceived as to this idea, was
in error in regarding it as its own offspring, seeing that it was
really an offshoot of imagination and experience. From this alli-
ance sprang certain ideas which were brought under the law of
association, and the subjective necessity arising thence — namely,
habit — is treated as the observed objective necessity. From this
he inferred that the reason possessed no power of thinking such
connections, even in a general form, because its conceptions would
then be pure fictions, and that all its vainly subsisting a priori
knowledge was nothing but common experience under a false
brand, which is much the same thing as saying that there neither
is nor can be such a thing as metaphysics. However premature
and incorrect his conclusion mav have been, it w T as at least based
upon investigations which deserved the co-operation of all the
ablest minds of his generation in the attempt to solve the problem
in the sense he indicated, an attempt which must have resulted in
a complete intellectual reform."
To complete the pre-Kantian development of Realism it is only
necessary to mention the names of Condillac and Helvetius, who
carried empiricism to its logical conclusion. In themselves they
produced no effect on Kant's speculation, but their teachings show
64 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
empiricism pushed as far as it will go. Condillac subordinates
the reflection of Locke to sensation, and for him mental processes
are merely modified sensations. Helvetius draws the moral conse-
quences of the empirical philosophy. If all our knowledge is given
by external sensation, then it follows that our volitions are deter-
mined by external sensations, and, accordingly, Helvetius set up the
satisfaction of our sensuous desires as the "first principle of morals.
We have now before us the pre-Kantian Realistic development
as depicted in Locke, Hume, Condillac, and Helvetius. The de-
rivation and explanation of the ideal from the material and by it,
begun by Locke, has developed into a materialism which first sub-
ordinated the spiritual to the material, then reduced the former to
the latter, and ended by denying entirely the existence of spirit.
In opposition to this development is that of Idealism. Its first
great name is that of Leibniz. If empiricism materializes mind,
no less does idealism spiritualize matter. The former has said that
only material things exist; the latter will tell us that there exist
only spirits or souls, and ideas or the thoughts of spirits. Idealism
will direct its energies to showing that nothing can come into the
soul that is not at least performed in it, that all the mind's knowl-
edge is derived from itself.
Leibniz, as did Spinoza, founds his philosophy upon the con-
cept of substance, but he differs from his predecessors in defining
it. He conceives substance to be pre-eminently the living activity,
the moving force. Substance is for Leibniz individual, a monad,
and there is a plurality of monads. These monads are qualitatively
different ; they are indivisible, metaphysical points ; they are souls,
living spiritual beings. Each is a microcosm, and every body is not
a single substance, but a complex of substances, a plurality of
monads. This is the complete reversal of Spinoza's doctrine.
The monads find their distinction in the fact that, though each
mirrors the same universe, and the whole universe, yet each mirrors
it differently. Some monads reflect it more, some less perfectly.
It is a distinction of quality, not of quantity. So as each monad
pictures the same universe, and differently, we have the greatest
possible unity and the greatest possible diversity, and this is abso-
lute harmony. This harmony is pre-established by God.
Leibniz enumerates three possible views as to the relations of
soul and body. The commonly accepted view involves the mutual
The Problem of Kant's "Kritik der reinen Vernunft." 65
action of both. This is absurd, for between mind and body can
be no reciprocity or interaction. The second view is occasionalism,
which we have seen was defended by Geulinx and Malebranche.
But this makes God a mere deus ex machina. There remains the
theory of pre-established harmony, and to this Leibniz holds.
Leibniz seems to draw wonderfully near to the Kantian doc-
trine of a priori elements in. knowledge when he shows that mere
experience cannot reveal necessary or universal truths, to which
something must always be contributed from our inner nature.
Leibniz opposes Locke, who argues that sensation, or the passive
receptive element, is the principle from which all knowledge is de-
rived, by placing the active element everywhere in advance He
resembled Descartes in being profoundly sensible of the truth that
thought, consciousness, and will form the real ego. But, instead
of the single substantia cogitans of Descartes, Leibniz assumes
an infinite number of small substances of which the principle of
thought is an essential property.
But the extreme point of Idealism, that which was to correspond
to materialism in the Realistic development, was not reached by
Leibniz. It is undoubtedly true that for him material things had
an existence only in confused perception, yet he was so far from
directly denying the existence of a material world that he may
fairly be said to have recognized it in his conception of the uni-
verse of monads. For in the monads the world of sense has its
fixed and firm foundation.
But we can easily see that a perfectly pure Idealism carries with
it the ultimate consequence of an out-and-out denial of the reality
of an objective world. This cap-stone of Idealism was laid by
Berkeley, who founded his philosophy upon the empiricism of his
realistic fellow-countryman, Locke.
Berkeley holds that our sensations are wholly subjective, and
we imagine ourselves to perceive external objects when in truth
we perceive only our sensations and perceptions themselves. All
objective ideas, it follows from this, are merely our own sensations.
Esse est percipi : the being of a thing is our perception of it.
It is impossible that material things should produce anything so
entirely different from themselves as sensations and perceptions.
Therefore a material external world has no existence. Only spirits
exist, and we receive our sensations from a superior spirit — God.
XX— 5
66 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
But, as that which communicates the ideas must possess them, all
ideas exist in God. Consequently it is impossible for objects to
exist anywhere but in a mind. Nature thus is merely a succession
or coexistence of ideas.
Schopenhauer again throws light on our subject: "No truth is
more certain, more independent of any others, and less in need of
demonstration, than this : that everything which exists for our per-
ception, and therefore the whole world, is only object in relation to
the subject, intuition in relation to an intuitive mind — in a word,
Idea. This truth is in no way new. It was involved in the skep-
tical considerations from which Descartes started. But Berkeley
was the tirst to give it decided utterance. He has thereby won
undying fame in philosophy, even though the rest of his doctrine
cannot be maintained." This support and praise come to Berkeley
from one of the most critical and exacting of modern philosophers.
Berkeley's philosophy admitted of no development. It was the
last word of a consistent idealism. But Leibniz found in Wolff a
disciple who gave his doctrines expression in a dogmatic formalism.
Wolff agrees with Leibniz that the reason develops every-
thing out of itself. Then ideas, the true possession of reason, are
taken as the starting-point, and, by the aid of the principle of
sufficient reason and the principle of contradiction, everything is
developed out of these ideas by analysis. There is no inquiry as
to the origin or authority of these ideas. They exist, and what-
ever is contained potentially in them receives its formal develop-
ment. Wolff treats as equivalent things-in-themselves and ideas,
since his ontological foundation is nihilum est cui nulla respondet
notio and aliquid est cui aliqua respondet notio. But this dog-
matic confidence received a mortal wound from Hume, and the
way was opened for Kant to show that the whole fabric, warp
and woof, was made up of the self-created illusions of reason trav-
elling beyond her legitimate sphere. "Kant was to show," to
quote one of his greatest admirers, " why all earlier speculation
had broken down and must have broken down ; he alone suc-
ceeded in solving all the contradictions and paradoxes in which
the reason was entangled, and in explaining them completely in
accordance with their own nature, as he dropped the sounding-
line into depths which as yet no mortal mind had dared to fathom,
and brought up from thence to the light of day news of the pri-
The Problem of Kanfs "Kritik der reinen VernunftP 67
inary conditions and eternal postulates of reason. It is therefore
not too much to say that Kant is the greatest philosophical ge-
nius that has ever dwelt upon earth, and the ' Critique of Pure
Reason ' the highest achievement of human wisdom."
"We are now in a position to look back with Kant upon Ideal-
ism and Realism, or, viewed in another aspect, Dogmatism and
Skepticism, ending in one-sided extremes irreconcilably opposed
to each other. Instead of their succeeding; in reconcilins: the an-
tithesis of thought and being from within, w r e have found that
the existence of each is denied. And before outlining the mode
of solution undertaken by Kant it will be well for the sake of
clearness to state his exact relations to the realistic and idealistic
developments, and particularly to Hume and Berkeley.
Berkeley holds that all knowledge that seems to come to us
from without, through the senses, or through experience, is mere
illusion, and that truth exists in the ideas of the pure under-
standing and reason only. Kant proves that all knowledge that
comes to us from pure understanding and from pure reason only
is mere illusion, and that truth is impossible without experience.
Hume holds that true causality is impossible, whether in expe-
rience or beyond experience. Kant proves that experience itself
is impossible without the category of causality, and, of course,
without several other categories which Hume had overlooked,
though they possess exactly the same character as the category of
causality. The whole force of Kant's philosophy, as opposed to
that of Hume, is best stated in these words : That without which
experience is impossible cannot be the result of experience, though
it must never be applied beyond the limits of a possible experience.
It was the great work ot Kant to demonstrate that experience
itself is possible only through the necessity and universality of
thought.
"While empiricism elevates the world of sense, and idealism the
ego, Kant harmonizes the claims of both. He agrees with the
empiricists that experience is the only legitimate field of knowl-
edge, and that all knowledge owes its matter to experience, f and
with the idealists that there exists in the mind an a priori factor,
namely, the form of our knowledge. But his great distinction is
that we use concepts in experience, not to be obtained from expe-
rience, but prepared tor experience a priori in the mind.
68 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
At the time of Kant's advent the philosophical outlook was a
most hopeless one. Save the tenets of the Scottish philosophers,
then for the first time rising to any extended influence, no thinker
was certain of his position. Rational thought had destroyed the
claims of reason, and reason itself seemed nearing its death.
After the lapse of a century, the dubito of Descartes was once
more dominant. All the conclusions and dogmas of past specula-
tion were called in question by the empiricists. The great sys-
tems, the product of such wonderful skill and acuteness, were at
war with each other, and to philosopher and layman alike it
seemed as if the foundations of all certainty must give way and
the superstructure come tumbling to destruction. It was the
genius of Kant that shed light upon the darkness of the con-
flict.
Kant, in his own mental development, had passed through pe-
riods of allegiance to both the dogmatic and skeptical schools, and
in his mature years saw clearly the magnitude of the conflict that
it was his lot to quell. He took for the object of his critical
inquiry the function of cognition in man. What can man know %
is the fundamental question of all philosophy. Kant's scrutiny
of this function is what makes his philosophy critical, and the
word transcendental is applied to it as referring, to use Kant's own
language, to " that which has to do not so much with the objects
as with our knowing of the objects, so far as there is any a priori
knowledge of them." This examination and scrutiny, made in the
light of the historical development of the pre-Kantian philosophy,
forms the problem of Kant's ' k Kritik der reinen Yernunft." By
this title Kant tells us that he does not mean a criticism of books
or systems, but a criticism of the faculty of reason in general,
touching that class of knowledge, in its entirety, which we may
strive after unassisted by experience. Such a criticism must de-
cide the question of the possibility or impossibility of metaphysics
in general, and the determination of its sources, its extent and its
limits — and all this according to fixed principles.
It is stated, as we have seen, by Kant himself, and the state-
ment is borne out by internal evidence, that the point of departure
of the " Kritik der reinen Yernunft " is found in Hume's formula-
tion of sensational empiricism. From which it follows that this,
the first of Kant's three "Kritiken," seeks to define and demon-
The Problem of Kant's "Kritik cler reinen Yemunft." 69
strate the nature, conditions, and limits of scientific or theoretical
knowledge.
The " Kritik " has two distinct objects to attain, one of which is
less direct than the other. The first and more immediate object
is to demonstrate the at least formal dependence of all knowledge
obtained through the senses, and especially that of pure mathe-
matics and the natural sciences, on intellectual as well as on sen-
sible conditions, and to insist upon the truth that the concepts and
methods of physical science, as such, are irrelevant for the proof
or disproof of truths which lie outside the sphere of purely sensi-
ble phenomena. It is through this immediate object that the less
immediate one — namely, to secure a place for faith — is attained.
The range of physical knowledge does not extend beyond the mere
sensible phenomena; hence noumena, or things-in-themselves, are
theoretically unknowable. By knowledge, in so far as it is con-
tained in physical science, we can know nothing about them. If,
then, we find ourselves subject to any moral convictions concern-
ing God, Freedom, Immortality, the objective Beauty and Design
of the universe, we may occupy the place that physical science is
unable to fill, according as the exigencies of our moral nature de-
mand. These exigencies and their demands Kant discusses in the
"Kritik der praktischen Vernunft" and "Kritik der Urtheils-
kraft."
We have seen the historical origin and growth of the problem,
and in what light and with what magnitude it presented itself to
Kant. It remains to notice briefly his method of solution and to
mention a few of his main conclusions.
The " Kritik der reinen Yernunf t " is described as the ground-
plan of all our possessions through pure reason ; that is, all that it
is possible for us to know a priori, arranged systematically. But
what are these so-called possessions, and are they really possessions ?
What part do we ourselves play in effecting an act of perception \
To answer this question Kant examines thoroughly and critically
the two factors of all cognition — sense and understanding. ^Natu-
rally, then, the inquiry falls into two parts, one corresponding to
each factor in cognition. In the first place, what is the a priori
possession of the sensuous portion of the perceptive faculty? and,
in the second place, what is the a priori possession of the under-
standing? The first inquiry is taken up, examined, and answered
TO The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
in the first division of the " Kritik," known as the " Transeen-
dentale Aesthetik " (the word aesthetik being used in its true ety-
mological significance, and meaning the science of the a priori
principles of sense). The second inquiry is similarly treated in
the " Transcendeutale Logik."
Kant holds that all knowledge is judgment, and that all ques-
tions put in regard to knowledge have reference to judgment.
Then arises the question, Is a 'priori knowledge possible? Can
there be anything but empirical knowledge % If the " Kritik "
brings us to a negative answer, we must sustain the skepticism of
Hume ; if it validates an affirmative reply, then Philosophy is
vindicated against the Skepticism of Hume.
Holding in mind the fact that all knowledge is judgment, all
judgments are of two kinds — analytic and synthetic. Analytic
judgments are those in which the predicate adds nothing to the
content of the subject, but simply unfolds and explains that
content ; for example, All bodies are extended. We need not go
beyond the concept body in order to find that the attribute exten-
sion is connected with it. The predicates in analytical judgments
are always implicitly contained in the concept of the subject, and
we become conscious of them by an analysis of that concept.
Analytic or illustrating judgments do not enter into the " Kritik
der reinen Yernunft."
Synthetic or expanding judgments are those which do add some-
thing in the predicate to the content of the subject ; for example,
All bodies are heavy. Here we find in the predicate something
quite beyond what is included in the simple concept body. There-
fore synthetic judgments make a positive addition to our knowl-
edge.
Synthetic judgments are of two kinds: a posteriori, which are
simply empirical judgments, as that house is red; and a priori,
such as twice two is four, every event must have a cause. Syn-
thetic judgments a priori not only add something to the con-
tent of the subject, but they add to that content something nut
disclosed by experience. Then, as the specific question of the
" Kritik," the problem within the problem, we come to this : How
are synthetic judgments a priori possible ?
According to Kant, there are three general faculties of the hu-
man mind — Sense, Understanding, and Reason. Sense is the
The Problem, of Kant's "Kritik der reinen Vernunft" 71
source of our sensible intuitions ; Understanding is the source of
our concepts ; Reason is the source of our ideals. Corresponding
to these three faculties of the mind are three sciences — Mathemat-
ics, Natural Science, and Metaphysics.
In the " Transcendentale Aesthetik " Kant asks, How are syn-
thetic judgments a priori possible in mathematics? and he explains
that they are possible because the mind has pure intuitions, the
a priori forms of Space and Time.
The " Transcendentale Logik" is divided into two parts, the
" Analytik " and the " Dialektik." The " Transcendentale Ana-
lytik" proves that synthetic judgments a 'priori are possible in
natural science, because the mind is capable of forming pure con-
cepts. The "Transcendentale Dialektik" proves that synthetic
judgments a priori are not possible in metaphysics, because then
the mind transgresses its proper limits and involves itself in pa-
ralogisms, antinomies, and contradictions.
Kant confutes Hume's argument against the ego by showing
that a permanent self, a unity of apperception, is necessary to the
existence and applicability of those mental powers and forms
which he has already proved to be essential factors in knowledge.
In a word, Kant, in his " Kritik der reinen Vernunft," deliv-
ered philosophy from the bondage of skepticism, critically under-
mined dogmatism, and held to the theoretic undemonstrability of
the three ideals of Reason — God, Free Will, and Immortality.
The completion of his philosophy must be looked for in his
" Kritik der praktischen Vernunft " and " Kritik der Urtheilskraf't."
It is impossible and inadvisable, in a brief survey such as the
one before us, especially after dwelling at such comparative
length upon the historical development of Kant's problem, to pro-
ceed to an exhaustive and critical analysis of the " Kritik der rei-
nen Yernunft." I shall have accomplished my purpose if I have
succeeded, with the aid of the great historians of philosophy, in
showing, in outline merely, the character and magnitude of the
task which Kant had to perforin, and the manner in which he
attempted to perform it.
It is remarkable how soon an influence passes away, and to-day,
when dogmatism and agnosticism are ranged face to face much
as they were a century ago, we are obliged to cry Back to Kant !
in order to emphasize the fact, which ought to need no emphasis,
72 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
that on these same vexed questions Kant speaks clearly and
strongly. The message of the book that was a potent factor in
the mental development of men so widely different as Fichte,
Schiller, Richter, von Humboldt, and Schopenhauer, cannot be
without value for us.
Listen to the careful and solemn words of the master of phil-
ology and a careful student of philosophy, Max Miiller : " The
bridge of thoughts and sighs that spans the whole history of the
Aryan race has its first arch in the ' Veda,' its last in Kant's ' Cri-
tique.' In the ' Yeda' we watch the first unfolding of the human
mind as we can watch it nowhere else. Life seems simple, natu-
ral, childlike, full of hopes, undisturbed as yet by many doubts or
fears. What is beneath, and above, and beyond this life is dimly
perceived, and expressed in a thousand words and ways, all mere
stammerings, all aimings to express what cannot be expressed, yet
all full of a belief in the real presence of the Divine in Nature, of
the Infinite in the Finite. Here is the childhood of our race un-
folded before our eyes, at least so much of it as we shall ever know
on Aryan ground ; and there are lessons to be read in those
hymns — ay, in every word that is used by those ancient poets —
which will occupy and delight generations to come.
" And while in the ' Veda' we may study the childhood, we may
study in Kant's ' Critique of Pure Reason ' the perfect manhood of
the Aryan mind. It has passed through many phases, and every-
one of them had its purpose and has left its mark. It is no longer
dogmatical, it is no longer skeptical, least of all is it positive. It
has arrived at and passed through its critical phase, and in Kant's
' Critique' stands before us, conscious both of its weakness and its
strength, modest, yet brave. It knows what the old idols of its
childhood, and of its youth too, are made of. It does not break
them ; it only tries to understand them ; but it places above them
the Ideals of Reason, no longer tangible, not even within reach of
the understanding, yet real if anything can be called real, bright
and heavenly stars to guide us even in the darkest night.
" In the ' Veda ' we see how the Divine appears in the fire, and in
the earthquake, and in the great and strong wind which rends the
mountain. In Kant's ' Critique ' the Divine is heard in the still
small voice, the Categorical Imperative, the I Ought, w T hich Na-
ture does not know and cannot teach. Everything in nature is
The so-called Primary Qualities of Matter. 73
or is not, is necessary or contingent, true or false. But there is
no room in nature for the Ought, as little as there is in losric.
mathematics, or geometry. Let that suffice, and let future gen-
erations learn all the lessons contained in that simple word, I
Ought, as interpreted by Kant. The materials are now accessible,
and the English-speaking race, the race of the future, will have in
Kant's ' Critique ' another Aryan heirloom as precious as the ' Veda '
— a work that may be criticised, but can never be ignored."
As the years roll by, and the ambitious intellect of man, forget-
ful of the lessons of the past, beats against its prison-bars and
strives to break forth into the vast expanse of the unknowable to
grapple with problems that it can never solve, if we will but look
down the corridors of history, the figure of Kant will rise majes-
tically before us, speaking, in that Categorical Imperative that he
so fully interpreted to man, the solemn warning — " So far and no
farther."
THE SO-CALLED PRIMARY QUALITIES OF MAT-
TER : AN EXPOSITION AND CRITICISM.
BY J. M. RIGG.
There are certain philosophical questions to the clear comprehen-
sion of wdiich it is almost essential that their historical antecedents
should be accurately understood. Of these, the controversy con-
cerning the nature of what, since Locke, have been commonly
known as the primary qualities of matter is a conspicuous ex-
ample. In a former paper read before this society l I drew atten-
tion to the partial correspondence of Aristotle's division of percep-
tions into common and particular with Locke's distinction between
the primary and secondary qualities of matter, observing that, in
so far as the correspondence fails, the advantage is on the side of
Aristotle, the conversion of the common perceptions into qualities
inhering in objects being a decidedly retrograde step. I purpose
in the present paper, in the first place, to inquire whether any bet-
1 The present paper was read before a London society, styling itself " The Philosophi
cal Society," on June 25, 1885.— J. M. R.
74 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
ter division than Aristotle's has been suggested by any thinker
subsequent to Locke, and then to discuss the relation of these com-
mon perceptions to the rest of cognition, and whether they involve
any, and if so what, a priori element.
As enumerated by Aristotle, they are motion, rest, number,
figure, and magnitude ; and the primary qualities mentioned by
Locke are these same five perceptions regarded as inherent in ob-
jects, with the addition of solidity. The addition, however, is a
mistake, for solidity is not a primary quality in Locke's sense of
the term at all — i. e., it is not a quality " utterly inseparable from
the body in what state soever it be " ; it may disappear, e. g., on the
application of heat. If solidity is to be ranked as a primary quali-
ty, fluidity should be so likewise. In truth, what Locke meant by
solidity seems to have been that greater or less degree of cohesive-
ness which all matter, fluid or solid alike, possesses ; and this is
really included in mobility.
The classification of Locke was adopted by Sir "William Hamil-
ton with a slight refinement — i. e., he distinguished between pri-
mary, secundo-primary, and secondary qualities ; and in this he is
followed by Mr. Herbert Spencer, 1 who, however, introduces a new
nomenclature, substituting statical for primary, statico-dynamical
for secundo-primary, and dynamical for secondary. The reason
assigned for thus altering the terminology may be briefly stated as
follows : In the perception of the dynamical qualities the subject
is passive and the object active, as in the radiation of heat, emis-
sion of odor, or propagation of sound ; in the perception of the
statico-dynamical qualities both subject and object are active, as
in "grasping, thrusting, pulling, or any other mechanical process"
(§317) ; in the perception of the statical qualities — e. g., size, form,
position — the subject is active and the object passive.
Now, there are two ways in which this classification is interpret-
able : (1) We may understand Mr. Spencer to mean what he says,
viz., that, on the perception of the size, form, and position of an ob-
ject, the object is passive, or (2) we may take him to mean merely
that it is regarded as passive. The first mode of construction
would make the size, form, and position of objects mere projections
of the mind; but this Mr. Spencer cannot intend, since we know
1 " Principles of Psychology," part vi, cap. xi.
The so-called Primary Qualities of Matter. 75
from other parts of his writings that, in common with most psy-
chologists, he regards perception as in all cases the result of a reac-
tion of the mind upon stimulus; nay, he is wont to insist, with
uncommon vigor, that space, of which size, form, and position are
specific determinations, is no mere form of the ego, hut has its ob-
jective counterpart. If, however, we construe his language as
meaning that the statical qualities are not really statical, but only
so regarded by common sense, the same course of construction must
in consistency be applied to the statico-dynamical qualities also.
So applied, however, it completely breaks down. The dynamical
quality color is regarded by common sense as inhering in the ob-
ject no less than size, figure, and position ; so is the dynamical
quality heat, and so are the statico-dynamical qualities hardness,
softness, firmness, fluidity, roughness, smoothness, and the like.
Mr. Spencer's mode of proving the statical nature of the space-
attributes is a curious instance of inconsequence. He remarks
(§ 326) : " To an uncritical observer the visible form of an object
seems as much thrust upon his consciousness by the object itself
as its color is. But, on remembering that the visible form is re-
vealed to him only through certain modifications of light, that
these modifications are produced not by the form, but by certain
occult properties of the substance having the form, and that, if
the body had no power of reacting on light, the form would be
invisible, it will be seen that the form is not known immediately,
but mediately." From this it appears that the statical qualities are
certain powers which body possesses of reacting on light, whereby
the form of an object becomes mediately known. So far, then, from
the adjective statical being appropriate to describe them, it would
seem that they fall under the same category as the dynamical
qualities, for these also, Mr. Spencer informs us (§ 318), " can be
called attributes of body only in the sense that they imply in body
certain powers of reaction which appropriate external actions call
forth. These powers of reaction, however, are neither the attri-
butes made known to us as sensations, nor those vibrations or un-
dulations or molecular repulsions in which, as objectively consid-
ered, these attributes are commonly said to consist, but they are
the occult properties in virtue of which body modifies the forces
brought to bear upon it. Nevertheless, it remains true that these
attributes as manifested to us are dynamical, and, in so far as the
76 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
immediate relation is concerned, it remains true that in respect of
these attributes the object is active and the subject is passive." It
appears, then, that while the statical qualities are certain occult
properties or powers of reaction whereby body modifies light so as
to produce visible form, bulk, and position, the dynamical qualities
are certain occult properties or powers of reaction whereby body
modifies the forces brought to bear upon it so as to produce light,
color, heat, taste, and smell ; in other words, in themselves either-
set of qualities is alike dynamical; it is only "as manifested to
us," and " so far as the immediate relation is concerned," that in
the one case the object alone, in the other case the subject alone,
is active. This doctrine of " the immediate relation" is very dark
and mysterious. If it be construed as importing that, in the per-
ception of, e. g., color, the subject is passive, that is inconsistent
with Mr. Spencer's well-known, and I venture to say indisputable,
thesis that perception always involves recognition and classifica-
tion, both of which are just as necessary to the perception of a
specific grade of light or shade of color as to the perception of the
dimensions, or shape, or position of an object ; the subject is active
in the one case as in the other. If, however, it be suggested that
Mr. Spencer, while speaking in terms of subject and object, is
really thinking in terms of physical organism and environment,
that, e. g., when he says that the perception of the statico-dynami-
cal and statical qualities involves the. activity of the subject, he
really means that such perception involves a movement of the or-
ganism or of some or one of its members, I answer that this inter-
pretation gives no meaning to the distinction drawn between the
passivity of the object in the perception of the statical qualities
and its activity in the perception of the statico-dynamical quali-
ties. The object is said by Mr. Spencer to be active when statico-
dynamically perceived, because it resists pressure, passive when
statically perceived, because no pressure is put on it, and there-
fore the capacity which it has " of meeting by a proportionate
counteracting force any force brought to bear on it " (§ 322) is not
elicited. Mr. Spencer can hardly mean that matter in resistance is
a voluntary agent, meeting push with push and counteracting tug
by tug, but, on any other construction of his language, it seems im-
possible to deny to matter perceived merely as in contact with the
organism the same kind of activity which is ascribed to it when
The so-called Primary Qualities of Matter. 77
resisting pressure. The only real distinction between the statico-
dynamieal and the statical qualities is that in the perception of the
former the organism is more active than in the perception of the
latter; but this is no reason for crediting the environment with
the surplus activity of the organism.
In short, there is no mode of interpreting Mr. Spencer's doc-
trine which will render it logical, all perceptions being conceiva-
ble with equal propriety as the result of action and reaction be-
tween subject and object, and the distinction which he draws not
being justified by the humble authority of common sense. The
true distinction remains that which Aristotle drew between these
perceptions which are particular, i. e., to which one sense only is
organic, and those which are common, i. e., to which more than
one sense is organic.
So much, then, being premised by way of mere logical and his-
torical disquisition, I proceed to the detailed examination of these
common perceptions, their nature and functions; and I will be-
gin by remarking that not only are they common in the sense ex-
plained, but they also have a community inter se, in that they all
fall under one and the same category — viz., extensive quantity.
Number, and indeed time, which Aristotle included in number,
do not in themselves, i. e., as the elementary process of counting,
and the bare distinction between past and present, contain any
element of extensive quantity, but every one knows how much
arithmetic and algebra are beholden to visible symbols, and the
computation of time to motion. Number and time must there-
fore be ranked under the same category with the common percep-
tions. It therefore becomes important to determine whether the
common element in these perceptions, extension, is itself an ulti-
mate element, or whether it is analyzable into simpler terms.
Since Berkeley launched his " New Theory of Vision " on the
world it has become a tradition with English empirical thinkers
to attempt the derivation of extension from sensations of touch
and muscular movement. The latest, and in many respects the
most plausible, of these attempts, is that of Mr. Herbert Spencer,
which I therefore proceed to examine.
Mr. Spencer's thesis is, that the ideas of space, time, and mo-
tion are all evolved, and evolved concurrently, out of sensations
of muscular tension and touch (§ 344). The mode of evolution
78 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
supposed is as follows : He assumes a consciousness of a series of
sensations of muscular tension of varying intensity, not, of course,
recognized as due to the movement of a limb in the sense of the
organ traversing space ; this consciousness he is pleased to call one
of subjective motion, though lie admits, or rather asserts, that it
has nothing in common with our consciousness of motion except
the name. Such a consciousness, it must be observed, implies
time, since no one can be conscious of a series of sensations ex-
cept by distinguishing one or some of them as in present time
from all tlie rest as occupying past time, and that in various de-
grees of priority. This ingenious theory, then, which is to ex-
plain the evolution of the idea of time, starts by presupposing it ;
that is Mr. Spencer's first, though by no means his last, assump-
tion.
He then assumes that this series of muscular sensations gets as-
sociated with a series of tactual sensations (which again presup-
poses time), which in its turn becomes associated with a set of
simultaneous tactual sensations (which once more presupposes
time), which thereby come to be associated with the series of mus-
cular sensations ; and there, in the association of this set of simul-
taneous tactual sensations with the series of muscular sensations,
he finds the " nascent" idea of space.
The plausibility (such as it is) of the view consists wholly in
the likelihood of the student's confounding simultaneity with co-
existence in space, and a tactual sensation with the perception of a
portion of superficial extension. A tactual sensation, however,
as Mr. Spencer himself elsewhere points out, does not necessarily
involve any perception of resistance, while he also maintains that
extension is only perceivable through the perception of resistance.
Thus he says (§ 323): " When one of the fingers is brought gently
in contact with anything, when a fly settles on the forehead, or
when a hair gets into the mouth, there arises the sensation of
touch proper. This sensation is undecomposable — is not accom-
panied by any sensation of pressure ; and, though we always as-
cribe it to some resisting object, we cannot say that the resistance
is given in the sensation." Then he lays down (§ 348) that exten-
sion is onlv known " through a combination of resistances." We
may assume, then, that a set of simultaneous tactual sensations
does not amount to a perception of extension. We must add (Mr.
The so-called Primary Qualities of Matter. 79
Spencer tells us) the perception of " a combination of resistances"
(§348). A combination of resistances, however, is a somewhat
abstract mode of expression. Indeed, it may be remarked, in
passing, that Mr. Spencer is very fond of abstract terms. He
writes as if he had never heard of the controversy between real-
ism and nominalism, out of which modern empirical philosophy
sprung. If, however, following the wise precept of nominalism,
we render "combination of resistances" into its concrete equiva-
lent, we obtain a group of things occupjdng space, withstanding
pressure, which certainly is not what Mr. Spencer means by a
combination of resistances.
He, in fact, identifies resistance with the sensation of muscular
tension. Thus he observes (§ 348) : " As was shown in the last
chapter, subjective motion is primarily known as a varying series
of states of muscular tension — that is, sensations of resistance."
A combination of resistances, then, is, I presume, a set of simul-
taneous sensations of muscular tension. This definition, how-
ever, does not accord with the account given in the chapter on
the statico-dynamical or resistance attributes. There he shows
that to the perception of resistance there is necessary not only the
sensation of muscular tension, but also that of pressure, which,
" though often associated with that of muscular tension, often exists
apart from it," as in the sensation experienced when a weight is
laid on the open palm of the hand, and " in the ever-present ex-
perience of the reactive pressure of whatever surface supports the
body " (§ 323).
Pressure alone, however, is not resistance ; that implies the
combination of pressure with a sensation of muscular tension.
Thus, in analyzing hardness, he says (§ 324) : " When we express
our immediate experiences of a body by saying that it is hard, what
are the experiences implied ? First, a sensation of pressure of
considerable intensity is implied ; and if, as in most cases, this
sensation is given to a finger voluntarily thrust against the object,
then there is simultaneously felt a correspondingly strong sensa-
tion of muscular tension." Softness differs from hardness, imply-
ing further the sensation of muscular movement — i. e., an alternate
increase and decrease of muscular tension. " Considered by itself,
then," he continues, "the perception of softness may be defined
as the establishment in consciousness of "a relation of simulta-
80 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
neity between three series of sensations — a series of increasing
sensations of pressure, a series of increasing sensations of ten-
sion, and a series of sensations of motion. And the perception of
hardness is the same, with the omission of the last series. As,
however, hardness and softness are names for different degrees of
the same attribute, these definitions must be understood in a rela-
tive sense."
We may take it, then, from Mr. Spencer, that the perception
of resistance involves at least two elements — (1) a series of increas-
ing sensations of pressure, (2) a series of increasing sensations of
tension. What, then, are we to think of his subsequent identifi-
cation of the sensation of resistance with that of muscular tension,
omitting altogether the sensation of pressure % The truth is that
neither view is correct ; neither muscular tension nor pressure,
nor the two combined, amount to resistance; and this is actually
recognized by Mr. Spencer at a later stage. Thus, toward the
close of the chapter on the perception of resistance (§ 350), lie says :
" Originally the sensations of pressure which a developing crea-
ture passively receives, being unconnected in experience with defi-
nite antecedents and consequents, are as isolated and meaning-
less as sensations of sound or odor." They only acquire a mean-
ing, he assures us, by being interpreted as signs " of weight and
of objective action," and, before they can be so interpreted, " there
must exist ideas of weight and objective action."
Mr. Spencer's theory, then, by his own admission, stands or
falls with the analysis of weight and "objective action." It is,
therefore, incumbent on him to show that these ideas are derived
from experiences of muscular tension. Has he done this ? In
order to answer this question it is necessary to examine his analy-
sis of the idea of force, which is presumably what he means by
"objective action." This is contained in the chapter on resistance.
There (§348), after referring to the analysis of motion contained
in the preceding chapter, he proceeds: " Our notion of force also
has a parallel genesis. Resistance, as known subjectively in our
sensations of muscular tension, forms the substance of our con-
sciousness of force. That we have such a consciousness is a fact
which no metaphysical quibbling can set aside. That we must
think of force in terms of our experience, must construct our con-
ception of it out of the sensations we have received, is also be-
The so-called Primary Qualities of Matter. 81
yond question. That we have never had and never can have any
experience of the force by which objects produce changes in other
objects is equally indisputable. And that, therefore, our notion
of force is a generalization of these muscular sensations which
we have when we are ourselves the producers of change in out-
ward things is an inevitable corollary." On this I have to re-
mark that, from the fact that we must think of force in terms of
our experience, it does not follow that we " must construct our
conception of it out of the sensations we have received." If that
were so, we could never get the idea of force. No one in his
senses, e.g., regards the sensation of muscular tension which he has
in pulling a boat up stream as the force which propels the boat ;
we regard both muscular tension and movement as results of the
energy which we expend. "Were it not that we consider ourselves
as self-determining agents, not even Mr. Spencer could mistake
the sensation of muscular tension for the source of our idea of
force, or place it on any different footing from any other sensa-
tion which regularly antecedes another. Force primarily is the
self-determining activity which we put forth in fixing the atten-
tion or forming an intention. It need not be accompanied by any
sensation of muscular tension, though when intention becomes
volition, and volition issues in outward act, it is so accompanied.
The ascription of force to outward objects is a kind of quasi-per-
sonitication of them. We term them active, speak of them as
agents and reagents — expressions only rightly applicable to the
self-conscious, self-determining subject.
There is, however, the less need to labor this point, as it is prac-
tically admitted by Mr. Spencer in the last paragraph of the chap-
ter on the perception of resistance. There he says (§351): "Re-
specting the perception (that is, of muscular tension), it has still to
be pointed out that it consists in the establishment of a relation
between the muscular sensation itself and that state of conscious-
ness which we call lo^-relation, such that the unbalanced surplus
of feeling, of whatever kind, which for the moment constitutes the
will, is the antecedent of the muscular sensation, and co-exists with
it w y hile it lasts. That the muscular sensation alone does not con-
stitute a perception of resistance will be seen on remembering that
we receive from a tired muscle a feeling nearly allied to, if not
identical with, that which we receive from a muscle in action ;
XX— 6
82 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
and that yet this feeling, being unconnected with any act of voli-
tion, does not give any notion of resistance." In speaking, then, of
outward objects as resisting, as having weight, as exerting force,
we are. according to Mr. Spencer, implicitly ascribing to them acts
of volition accompanied by sensations of muscular tension. But
how if we have no knowledge of outward objects? The intelli-
gence whose development Mr. Spencer is endeavoring to trace is
ex hypothesi without knowledge of outwardness, of space in any
of its dimensions ; and his problem is to explain the origin of the
idea of space as the result of sensations of muscular tension, or
rather, as now explained, as the resnlt of acts of volition accom-
panied by sensations of muscular tension. If we rigorously ex-
elude the idea of space, whether as revealed by touch or by sight,
and imagine a consciousness consisting wholly of acts of volition
accompanied by sensations of muscular tension, it is impossible to
understand how such an intelligence could ever transcend the idea
of a similar intelligence exerting a like force, how it could ever
come by the idea of an extended object. It might learn by expe-
rience that the sensations of pressure, so called, of which it was
aware — sensations originally, as Mr. Spencer well says, " as isolated
and meaningless," as far from conveying the idea of an extended ob-
ject, "as sensations of sound or odor" — would, when not rising be-
yond a certain degree of intensity, disappear on the exertion of a
certain quantity of will-force, and possibly might conclude that
they were themselves the result of the exertion of similar force
by a number of conscious beings, some of whom were stronger and
others weaker than itself, and thus might develop a rude kind of
polytheism ; but there is no ground for supposing that it would
ever arrive at the idea of extension in any dimension ; and this is
corroborated by the evidence of the boy couched by Cheselden
and the blind man interrogated by Platner.
So far the argument has proceeded on the assumption that Mr.
Spencer has proved that space is not directly perceivable by sight.
On this point his utterances are very obscure. He says (§ 327) :
" Though it is manifest that superficial magnitude as known by
sight is purely relative ; that the same surface, according as it is
placed close to the eye or a mile off, may occupy the whole field
of view, or but an inappreciable portion of it, yet, as while an ob-
ject is visible at all it must present some length and breadth, it
The so-called Primary Qualities of Matter. 83
may be argued that superficial extension in the abstract is origi-
nally perceivable through the eyes as much as color is. This con-
clusion is in one sense true, and in another sense untrue."
The sense in which the conclusion is true is explained to be
" that the visual organ, by its own size and construction, furnishes
certain limits within which the space-interpretations must eventu-
ally fall." The sense in which it is untrue, apparently, is that it
ignores a result which Mr. Spencer conceives to follow from the
hypothesis of Young, that each fibre of the optic nerve is capable
of independent stimulation — viz., that neither a serial nor a simul-
taneous excitation of such fibres can itself yield a perception of
extension, but that the germ of the perception of extension is the
establishment of an equivalence between " a quasi-single state of
consciousness" arising from the simultaneous excitation of several
fibres and a series of states of consciousness arising from the suc-
cessive excitation of them consequent upon a movement of the
retina, such movement being itself known only as a " subjective
movement" — i.e., as so much tension. How the association of a
" quasi-single state of consciousness " with a series of states, so that
the former comes to be the symbol of the latter and to be habitu-
ally thought of in place of that which it symbolizes, how, in other
words, the translation of a series of states into a quasi-single state,
which is not a consciousness of extension, the series being eventu-
ally merged in the quasi-single state, can be or become a conscious-
ness of extension, Mr. Spencer does not explain. In lieu of ex-
planation he coolly begs the question by simply calling the quasi-
single state a relation between coexistent positions. Thus he says
(§ 327) : " We have seen that a set of retinal elements may be ex-
cited simultaneously ; that so a quasi-single state of consciousness
becomes the equivalent of a series of states; that a relation be-
tween what we call coexistent positions thus represents a relation
of successive positions." That is to say, the quasi-single state of
consciousness arising from the simultaneous excitation of the reti-
nal elements is identified with the consciousness of coexistent po-
sitions, which a few pages before it was explicitly declared not to
be. Then we read (p. 168) : " If it be said that the extension is
implied by the simultaneous excitation of BCDEF and all the
fingers" (representing the retinal elements) "between A and Z,
the difficulty is not escaped ; for no idea of extension can arise
84 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
from the simultaneous excitation of these unless there is a knowl-
edge of their relative positions, which is itself a knowledge of ex-
tension." Yet this very knowledge of extension he assumes, at
the end of the same paragraph, to be given in the quasi-single
state of consciousness. Still further to confound the confusion, we
learn from § 334 that " on the one hand space cannot be thought
of without coexistent positions being thought of," and "on the
other hand coexistence cannot be thought of without at least two
points in space being thought of," from the latter of which propo-
sitions it follows that no two events can be conceived as happen-
ing simultaneously — i.e., as coexistent in time — unless they are
envisaged as in space. Yet when we say that the attainment of
virility coexists with a deepening of the voice, we do not figure
to ourselves virility and the deep voice as occupying positions in
space, and when we think of a given musical chord we do not
need, in order to recognize the notes as coexistent, to clothe them
with spatial relation. This confusion between coexistence in space
and coexistence in time pervades Mr. Spencer's theory throughout,
but the curious thing about it is, that it has a kind of double ac-
tion ; in other words, when he is trying to evolve the perception
of space out of tactual and muscular sensations or out of the quasi-
single state of consciousness resulting from the simultaneous exci-
tation of the retinal elements, he resolves coexistence in space into
simultaneity; when, as in §334, he is preparing the way for the
evolution of coexistence out of sequence which he afterward (cap.
xxii) attempts, he identifies coexistence with coexistence in space,
he has then only to evolve the perception of coexistence out of the
perception of sequence in inverted order, and the Kantian doc-
trine is, he flatters himself, " finally disposed of."
I do not profess to be as familiar as Mr. Spencer with the con-
tents of nascent intelligences ; but, if such an intelligence is credited
with the power of recognizing by a "duplex act of thought" a
sequence as inverted (§§334, 366), I fail to understand why it may
not be supposed capable of perceiving two series of events as oc-
curring together ; indeed, the latter operation seems to me to in-
volve less activity than the former ; and, if it be capable of per-
ceiving two concurrent series of events, why not two adjacent
portions of space? In any case, Mr. Spencer does not show how
the perception in inverted order of a sequence, not being a se-
The so-called Primary Qualities of Matter. 85
quence in space, can yield the perception of co-existence in
space.
Moreover, not only is it not true that coexistence necessarily
involves space, but it is not even true that space necessarily in-
volves coexistence, except in the same sense as every relation in-
volves coexistence. The terms of every relation must, of course,
coexist in thought, and no otherwise do the terms of spatial, rela-
tions coexist. If it is absurd to us that the assassination of Julius
Cresar coexists with the birth of Christ because both events are in
time, it is equally absurd to us that London coexists with Calcutta
because both cities are in space. Space, in fact, is the negation of
coexistence. In time coexistence is really possible ; a thousand
events may, and indeed must, coexist in the same moment of
time, but no two objects can possibly occupy the same space.
Mr. Spencer's final definition of space as " the blank form of all
relations of coexistence " seems to me a blank form indeed ; and
the same criticism is applicable to his parallel definition of time,
"the blank form of all relations of sequence." No such blank
forms do I find in my consciousness, and I think the power of
abstraction does not extend so far as to enable us to frame them.
Just as we cannot frame any idea of triangle in general or color
in the abstract wholly dissociate from particular triangles and
specific tints, so also I think we cannot conceive either time or
space without a mental survey of particular times and places.
Space and time do not seem to be definable in any better way
than as the elementary distinctions between here and there and
now and then, to which extension as the interval between a here
and there and duration as the interval between a now and a then
are related as specific determinations.
Figure, which Mr. Spencer vaguely says "is resolvable into
relative magnitude of parts" — a definition which would not ex-
clude any divided line — involves the comparison not only of
magnitudes but of directions. Thus a line is simple spatial con-
tinuity, a straight line such continuity without change of direc-
tion, a curve such continuity with change of direction, a circle a
curve returning upon itself in such way that the greatest interval
is the same in all directions, a rectangle the equality of parallel
straight lines, a square such equality when the line joining the
terminations of the parallels is of the same length as they are, a
86 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
triangle the gradual diminution of parallel straight lines to a
vanishing point; and but little ingenuity would be needed to
show that all figures, however complex and irregular, are analyz-
able in the same way.
It seems, then, clear that space and time are immediate per-
ceptions, or, if you like, intuitions, and as such insusceptible of
analysis, and that it is only through them that sensations of mus-
cular tension are interpretable in terms of motion ; but this of
course does not mean that either duration, or velocity, or distance,
or magnitude is perceived immediately, i. e., without comparison
and computation, or even that no empirical factors enter into such
computation.
Duration is the equation of that which in itself is a mere intu-
ition of pastness, vaguely determinable as nearer or more remote
by reference to the number of intervening memories, with a quan-
tum of objective motion inferred from certain visible signs, and
known to be equivalent, or approximately so, to some fraction or
multiple of a day as vaguely measurable by memory.
Telocity is the quantum of extension traversable in a determi-
nate period of duration ; no element of, or derived from, muscular
or tactual sensation necessarily enters into or even accompanies
it. Thus if, descending the brow of a hill, I reckon that a certain
church thence visible is so many miles distant, the miles of which
I think are certainly not, unless I am very tired, conceived simply
or mainly in terms of muscular tension, but as multiples of some
portion of the extension which is visible to me on either hand,
overhead, and on the level of my feet as I move.
Distance in a line with the axis of vision, which for the sake of
distinction I term not extension but protension, is not perceivable
immediately, for the simple reason that it presents no surface to
the eye; but were it not that we have an immediate visual per-
ception of extension — i. e., of distance transverse to the axis of
vision — we could not so much as infer protension. When we judge
of the protensive distance of an object, we in fact calculate the
rate of velocity necessary to place us within a certain period of
duration in physical contact with it, and, in default of the percep-
tion of visible extension, we could estimate neither rate nor period.
Further, knowing that the apparent magnitude, vividness, and
distinctness of objects vary inversely as their distance, we infer
The so-called Primary Qualities of Matter. 87
that certain visible objects are larger than they appear; neverthe-
less, the standard of the real magnitude of which we speak is
given not in tactual but in visual experience. It was through
jumping to the conclusion that because the apparent magnitude
of a foot-rule varies with its distance from the eye, therefore the
feet and inches used in measurement are derived from tactual ex-
perience, that Berkeley 1 introduced into this subject a confusion
which has gone on increasing since his day ; yet it is obvious that,
in the absence of sight, the standard of length would be less deter-
minate than equity in the days of the early Chancellors ; it would
vary not with the size of the Chancellor's foot, but with the size
of the foot of each individual man. The standard of length is sim-
ply a certain quantum of extension, which is nearly the same for
everybody at that distance from the eye which is most convenient
for the perception of objects which are held in the hand. Further,
inasmuch as the accurate measurement of degrees of intensity in-
volves the equation of them with specific quanta of motion, as
vibrations and undulations of a determinate rapidity in the cases
of light and sound, and molecular motions in the case of heat, and
motion is neither perceivable, nor imagination, save through exten-
sion, it follows that an intelligence destitute of the idea of exten-
sive quantity could have only the very vaguest notion of differ-
ences of degree. In a word, so far from resistance being the
mother-tongue of thought, it would be nearer the mark to say
that extension is so, since without it neither duration, nor veloci-
ty, nor distance, nor magnitude, nor intensive quantity, would
be accurately measurable; and though number, being the reflec-
tion upon experience of the unity of consciousness by a series of
acts of attention followed by a reflection in which the series is
unified as a whole, exists for the congenitally blind, yet such per-
sons labor under an immense difficulty in the scientific study of
the subject; and, as it is impossible to understand how the "nas-
cent" perception of extension could ever evolve out of the con-
sciousness of mere simultaneity, while simultaneity and succession
alike presuppose time, it would seem that the Kantian doctrine is
not yet " finally disposed of." •
It remains to observe that vacuum is the idea of space travers-
1 u
Theory of Vision," § 61.
88 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
able in all directions, and therefore presupposes motion ; and that
the so-called infinity and infinite divisibility of space are the ina-
bility of the mind to perceive or imagine a space which is not
bounded by circumjacent space and ideally divisible, just as we
cannot conceive a number which, is not susceptible both of increase
and diminution.
GOESCHEL ON THE IMMOKTALITY OF THE SOUL.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF CARL FRIEDRICH GOESCHEL BY SUSAN E. BLOW.
Chapter III — {Concluded).
The Triplicity of the Proofs of Immortality.
"We have authenticated historically the relative order of the
theological and psychological proofs, and justified this order in the
development of thought. It remains necessary to consider the
position of Consciousness, for it is in Consciousness that we find
the above-mentioned order of proof. The spires of a cathedral
shift with the varying standpoint of the beholder; may not the
position of the proofs vary with the standpoint of the thinker be-
fore whose mental gaze they are unfolded ?
The conscious starting-point of the process of proof is the differ-
ence between the visible and invisible, between being and essence,
body and soul. Underlying this starting-point is the implicit pre-
supposition of the difference between subject and object. Other-
ness is already recognized, and the proofs of personal immortality
arise in the effort to protect the Individual as Monad from this
otherness. Hence the standpoint of Reflection or difference is
implied in the whole process of proof both in the theological and
psychological spheres, as well as in the development of the con-
cept of the soul itself from Individuality to Personality. With
reflection, philosophy, in its dialectic form, begins, and through
this dialectic comes to more profound analysis and more inclusive
insights. From the standpoint of reflection the starting-point is
the near and visible object, and from this transition is made to the
object invisible and remote; the mediation consists in the progress
from the determined to the self-determining, from that which is
willed to Absolute Will. The last and highest point reached s
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 89
the interpenetrating identity of opposites, with which the stand-
point of dualism is annulled, since it ascribes objective reality to
the notion which is still subjective.
Philosophy, as Phenomenology, necessarily begins with the
standpoint of Reflection. The beginning of the development of
humanity, however, lies back of Reflection. As we fix our eyes
upon this more remote beginning, the standpoint of Reflection
becomes the second in order, and the relative position of the three
proofs is also reversed. Henceforth the first is second, and the
last is first. The starting-point is found in the sphere of the onto-
logical proof, which, abstracted from the external scholastic form
belonging to developed reflection, and particularly to dogmatism,
finds its ultimate ground and unconscious presupposition in the
immediate unity of the subjective and objective concept. The
unity here referred to is the first immediate unity which precedes
all difference, not the secondary immediate unity, which, in the
progressive development of the concept, is found on both sides of
the first explicit difference, and resolved by further analysis into
secondary difference. Thus, after the first distinction of soul from
body, the soul is apprehended as an immediate unity, which again
breaks into difference in Consciousness. In other words, the soul
is first apprehended as unity in its distinction from the body.
Therefore the soul is a secondary unity, i. <?., its distinction from
the body logically precedes its recognition as unity. In its next
phase the soul, as consciousness, has its difference in itself. This
is the secondary difference. In the development of man the start-
ing-point is the primary unity and undivided Totality of body and
soul. This condition corresponds with the ontological proof; the
6v and the A.0709 are still one ; man is still one with his life ; death
cannot conquer life, but life remains after death. Thus Thales
could say : 6 ddvaros ovbev hiafyepei Tf/9 £0)7)9. In this condition,
however, the immediate conviction neither needs nor seeks proof.
Upon this standpoint the idea of God and the idea of immortality
are not distinguished from their reality ; born in the thinking sub-
ject, they commend themselves immediately as having objective
validity. The ontological proof, therefore, in its immediate form,
corresponds with the historic proof considered in the Introduction ;
it is this moment also, which, apparently shattered by the Under-
standing, glides, nevertheless, through all the thorny paths into
90 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
which the soul wanders, and, unseen, performs its duty. It helps
us while we scorn it, and supports us while we tread it under foot.
It has been already said that the weight of the historic proof is
found in the intuitive conviction of the majority of mankind; it
may now be added that its energy is verified in the Plus which
belongs to positive faith in its opposition to the negativity of
empty doubt.
Granting, then, that the starting-point of development is the
immediate unity of being with the future, of Thought with its
Actuality, it follows that its second phase is the Proof; this is the
standpoint of Reflection or Difference, whose two sides are in the
theological sphere, the cosmological and teleological proofs, and in
the psychological sphere the metaphysical and moral proofs. In
general, proof first appears in the stage of Reflection ; it is the
effort to unite the two sides of a dirempted unity ; its starting-
point is Being, which, as objectively given, is again differentiated,
the process of proof moving forward on the one hand directly
from Being to its Actuality, and on the other hand from Being
backward to Essence, and thence to the future of this past.
Evidently, therefore, within the domain of proof the third
member is wanting, for the third member has become the first, and
the first and second members fall together as the opposite sides of
the second sphere. Only through speculative insight into the im-
manent movement of the Concept is the dogmatic process of proof
transformed and completed by the addition of the third moment.
This speculative development comprehends within itself the pre-
ceding stages of the Spirit, and attains, finally, Mediated Unity,
or Personality. In this consummation of the process of devel-
opment is first made explicit the meaning of the statement that
the soul is one with its body, and that the life of the soul is one.
The soul anticipates not another life, but the development, re-
newal, and transfiguration of this life ; the soul does not go over
into something else, but in otherness remains itself. Only by go-
ing back of Consciousness is the true beginning found, the ground
of experience discovered, and the whole sphere of thought in its
complete Articulation surveyed. Grounded beneath and realized
above, the proofs appear in a new light, and, as we trace their
shining outlines, we know that the future and complete history of
the doctrine of immortality will recognize within the spheres of
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 91
the separate proofs the same triplicity which we have striven to
show in the totality of proof.
It is also worthy of mention that, having assigned to Conscious-
ness the second place in the order of development, we recognize in
history the foundation, in the continuous process of history the
development, and in comprehended history the culmination of the
doctrine of immortality or science of the finite spirit. History
has no object other than Thought.
Relatively to our present standpoint the succession and connec-
tion of the proofs in Plato's " Phsedo " are most remarkable. Soc-
rates starts from negation, or, more definitely, from the conception
of death, and shows that throughout the realm of existence neo-a-
tion negates itself; that everywhere life rises triumphant out of
death, and asserts itself as persistence. In that existence affirms
itself it has the supremacy over death, which denies itself. The
correspondence with the ontological proof is evident (sections 70-
72). Next arises spontaneously the second proof (section 72 et $eq.),
which, originating from reminiscence, points through this faculty
to the past of the soul, and then infers the capacity and des-
tiny of the soul to develop this past which has no beginning
through a future which has no end. As life is in contradiction to
death, as self-affirmation is relatively to negation, such is the
reminiscence of the soul relatively to the infinite and increas-
ing past which lies behind the soul. In both these proofs the
soul is seized in its relationship to what is other than the soul ;
the third proof seizes the soul in its relationship to itself, and from
the power of reminiscence deduces internality or simplicity (sec-
tion 77).
Thus the indicated reversal of the order of the three proofs of
immortality is found also in Plato. Not only does the content
of the third proof apprehended as the first moment precede the
first and second proofs, but these also change their position rela-
tively to each other.
Whoever has carefully followed the course of development up
to this point must have observed an apparent transformation of
the first two proofs. Originally, Simplicity, which was the un-
derlying ground of the first proof, was grasped as the existence of
the soul, and the teleological determination which was the ground
of the second proof was apprehended as the nature of the
92 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
soul. Next, without reversal of the relative order of the two
proofs, the nature of the soul was found in the content of the first
proof, and its existence or corporeality relegated to the content of
the second proof. Finally, when the realized content of the third
proof revealed itself as the ultimate starting-point and final goal
of the process of proof, the other proofs fell together in the second
sphere, and, as belonging to the same sphere, first asserted and
then reversed their position. The central point of this total move-
ment is the relationship between Existence and Essence ; its various
phases are explained by the mutation and confusion of this rela-
tionship, and the explanation of this confusion lies in the nature
of Reflection. This reflection first seizes the internality in which
it reflects itself as existence — in fact, as the real and indestructible
existence saved out of the first diremption. Renewed reflection
sunders this existence and finds in its determination its essence /
in its further progress it finds the essence of determination to be
self-realization or incarnation. Herewith the moment of exist-
ence becomes persistent in the second proof, and essence as moment
retreats into the first proof.
In the " Phgedo," after the gradual exposition above referred
to, the first proof is more clearly defined as ontological, and the
second stands out more and more boldly as the practical proof.
In section 95 Socrates returns to the conceptions of origin and
decay, and shows that they belong to Nature or Being. Spirit,
however, is higher than Nature ; therefore Anaxagoras is com-
mended, though in him the Spirit is still hampered by Being.
Finally, Socrates grasps the soul, not as a thing, but in the
totality of its form. The total form or concept of the soul is life,
or, more adequately, Thought. The concept cannot be the oppo-
site of itself ; what is, is either living or dead ; life cannot be also
death ; the one excludes the other ; this is the argumentum ex-
clusi tertii (sections 102-105). Thus, while in the earlier part of
the conversation Socrates taught that everything proceeds from
its opposite, and life rises triumphantly out of death, he now, in
antagonism to Nature, demonstrates in the Logos exactly the re-
verse — viz., that what is cannot be or become its own opposite.
This apparent contradiction in his teaching is solved in section
105, wherein he shows that change belongs only to Nature, or the
external appearance of things, while duration and unchangeable-
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 93
ness belong to the Concept. This Concept — the Logos — is the
true Actuality, oWw? 6V; to it alone belongs reality. Such is
Plato's Ontology ! In the sphere of manifestation we see the
warm grow cold and the living creature die ; but, in the Con-
cept, warmth can never take up cold in itself ; life cannot be
also death. The soul is this total Concept of life. With this in-
sight the apparent contradiction is so completely solved that we
even find the ground of that external appearance within whose
sphere positive Being arises out of the Negation of Being. This
ground is the vital Concept which, dwelling within the object,
excludes its own opposite. This is one of Plato's most profound
insights ; from it he passes to the poetic conception of Metemp-
sychosis. In the same way he returns, finally, to the second
proof, which, developed out of reminiscence, leads from the past
into the future ; reminiscence mediates the conception of reward
and punishment (section 107) ; herewith the second proof shows
itself to be the practical proof.
Herewith the whole course of the soul's thought of itself is com-
pletely changed. And what we discover in the universal history
of philosophy is repeated step by step, though more rapidly and
invisibly, in the experience of each philosophic thinker. Each in-
dividual must relive the whole history of philosophy. The begin-
ning is always the same : Thought outgrows and awakes from the
immediate unity and certainty which, in its ontological truth, is
subsequently expressed in the historic proof. This is the first
dualism — Being and Non-Being — Life and Death. It may, there-
fore, be said that Thought proceeds from Being, but it is from
Being in its universality; more definitely, from the triumph of
Being over Non-Being, for out of Non-Being, in all the transfor-
mations which we call death, Being emerges victorious and imper-
ishable. Next, as in the " Phsedo," Reflection turns upon the one
side toward Being in its subjectivity, or, in other words, toward
Thought in past and future infinity (this is the ratio cognoscendi
in its subjectivity), and upon the other side toward Being in its
objectivity, the nature of which, recognized as simplicity, proves
finally to be Thought itself (this is the ratio essendi in its objec-
tivity). The consummation of development is the comprehension
and inclusion in the Concept, i. e., in the Concept to which be-
longs Being, more definitely in Consciousness, the Being that
94: The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
knows, and the Knowing that is, the Thought which is one with
its Actuality. In the "Phsedo" there is transition from the Ioni-
an Nature-Philosophy to Thought — viz., to 1/0O?, and with this to
X0709.
Such is the course of Consciousness; but thereupon arises an
observation which the candid mind cannot ignore — an objection
which, though abrupt and seemingly accidental, demands serious
attention. The beating pulse of this objection is— death ! Who
is he that, searching for immortality, dares to ignore death ?
It is, indeed, with death that we begin the investigation of that
which is the contradiction of death. Here is the starting-point of
Socrates; he looks full in the eyes of the death which faces him.
Death is the origin of the doctrine of immortality ! The doc-
trines of the imperishability of being and the immortality of con-
sciousness are equivalent to an open declaration of war against
death, but this very declaration implies that death stands read} 7
and armed upon the battle-field. Being and Non-Being — the liv-
ing Soul and Death — meet in mortal conflict. Who can deny
that death has entered into the world ? Who can deny that it
has found a place in the consciousness of man? Homo mortis
sibi conscius ! With this admission would seem bound up the
final and irrevocable overthrow of the ontological proof — that
proof upon which rests the whole psychological process of proof
— that proof with which the struggle began and with which it
had seemed victoriously to end. For the ground of this proof is
the ineradicable Concept of persistence, the testimony of con-
sciousness to its own imperishability ; and now, alas ! death has
stolen into this consciousness, and, like a gnawing worm, threat-
ens to destroy its flower and fruit ! All is vanity ! all passes
away! Man himself is conscious of death! Herewith human
Consciousness contradicts itself as life and death contradict
each other, for in man there dwell together the consciousness of
death and the consciousness of the impossibility of death. The
former rests upon man's alienation from the Absolute Life and
Consciousness, the latter is grounded in that Union with the Ab-
solute Life which is revealed in Creation and in the uninterrupted
active continuance of Creation.
Herewith all contradictions are finally solved ! For, if the
consciousness of death finds its explanation in alienation from the
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 95
divine life — if sin, and sin only, is the sting of death — then Re-
demption is the source of a fresh and self- renewing life. We
must, therefore, not overlook the fact that this truth is the ulti-
mate, though long unrecognized, ground, origin, and end of the
psychological process of proof. The consciousness of personal im-
perishability and the imperishability of personal consciousness is,
in truth, nothing but the subjective consciousness of participation
with God through the Redemption, or, in general, the Concept of
Personality. The outcome of the ontological proof is thus the
central fact of the Christian revelation ; it is, therefore, both dog-
matic and ethical, or the unity of the objective and subjective —
the theoretical and practical proofs. Its utterance is nothing-
other than "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy
victory ? "
As consciousness in general, as well as the consciousness of imper-
ishability in particular, bears in itself the proof of imperishability,
so the indwelling consciousness of sin and death, far from contra-
dicting immortality, is correctly apprehended as the lever of life,
and the very first factor of the proof of immortality. Conscious-
ness finds a limit in its object only in so far as it transcends this
object. It would not be conscious of its object if it experienced
no opposition from this object, and it would not feel this opposi-
tion if its force did not reach beyond the object. Hereupon rests,
in general, the moral proof, and hereupon rests also that form of
the moral proof which is developed out of the consciousness of death.
Consciousness of death points beyond life and beyond nature, for
this consciousness is the exclusive privilege of man ; it is the bless-
ing bestowed in the curse pronounced after the fall. It points to
the freedom of the human will, wherein is expressed man's di-
vinity ; it points backward to freedom, for the consciousness of
death is one with the consciousness of guilt ; it points forward to
freedom, for it admonishes man to turn to a new life. Hence
it points to the concept of justice, which develops from the con-
cept of freedom, and to the truth of persistence, which develops
from the concept of justice.
It may be said that man knows himself to be immortal just
because he is conscious of death ; for to be conscious of death is
to know death as a limit, and to know a limit is to transcend it.
This development belongs to the second sphere of proof, but it goes
9ti 2 he Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
over through this into the third proof, because from the conscious-
ness of death follows the consciousness of its opposite, or the con-
cept of imperishability, the one, indeed, being identical with the
other. By a similar process the first proof discovers the imma-
teriality of the soul ; the soul is immaterial because it is conscious
of matter. Finding its limit in matter, it logically transcends
this limit.
Thus the argument against immortality derived from the con-
crete representations of death and of the consciousness of death
is not only refuted by these same representations, but is chal-
lenged thereby to self-comprehension and insight, to a richer un-
folding of its content, and to a more profound explanation of the
doctrine of immortality. The ultimate result is that mortality is
the path to immortality.
In thus assuming the burden of its own Apologetics, philosophy
not only instructs others, but enriches itself. It finds renewal in
the freshness of concrete representation, and gains strength and
versatility through the manifold vicissitudes of the strife. This
result, however, will not satisfy philosophy itself ; rather, in pro-
portion to its exoteric expansion, will it feel the need of esoteric
development. The deeper its penetration into all spheres of mani-
festation, the more surely it realizes that it must collect and orient
itself. The esoteric movement in philosophy consists in following
out the adequate logical categories, in tracing the total concepts
of particular appearances, and in seeking for the primitive
phenomena so variously reflected in the sphere of representa-
tion. Without this esoteric activity, each argument, in its refu-
tation, leads to a new objection, and we are ceaselessly whirled
around in the infinitude of particulars which the representation
pictures.
Thus, out of the brilliant refutation of the argument from the
consciousness of death rises the fresh objection that, if conscious-
ness of an object proves superiority over it, then man, being con-
scious of God, must be superior to God. To this, without tran-
scending the sphere of representation, it may be immediately an-
swered that the consciousness of an object does not prove abstract
and unconditioned superiority to it, but the consciousness of an
object transcends this object only in so far as the latter is opposed
to the former, or is, in other words, mere object. In such a case
Goesehel on the immortality of the Soul. 97
Consciousness takes up its object as a moment of itself. But if.
on the contrary, the object of consciousness is not merely object,
but also subject, then we have Consciousness opposed to Conscious-
ness, life to life. Herewith opposition is transformed into recipro-
cal relationship, and only from the further determinations of these
related consciousnesses can we learn how far either one transcends
or is subordinate to the other. The application of this remark is
evident. In so far as death is merely the object and contradiction
of life and consciousness, it is transcended by Consciousness, which
therein proves itself immortal. But, when the object of Con-
sciousness is Self-Consciousness itself, Consciousness is identical
with its object, and, when the object is Absolute Self-Conscious-
ness, the reciprocal relationship consists in the participation of
the finite consciousness through Personality in the Absolute Con-
sciousness.
In what has been said we may find also a path to the most uni-
versal category which underlies the conception of death. Death
is — Negation. Negation is the universal truth of death ; in Nega-
tion death finds its speculative significance. In this universality
as Negation death moves through all phases of the doctrine of im-
mortality. This insight casts a new light upon that path of psy-
chological development which we have retraced so many times.
First, Negation appears as death, hence as the contradiction of
life and consciousness — but in the felt ascendancy of life and con-
sciousness this death itself dies. This is the standpoint of the im-
mediate certainty of persistence after death. Next, Negation ap-
pears transformed as matter (externality, plurality), in which form
it is again negated by the Soul, which herewith recognizes itself as
immaterial (internal, simple). Its next disguise is finitude, against
which, in protracted struggle, Thought proves its own infinitude.
Finally, Negation appears in its own form, with which it at
once negates itself. With this Negation of Negation, Being and
Thought affirm themselves as Spirit. The Negation of Negation
is the end of all Negation and the absorption of all death — the
self-affirmation and the self-perpetuation of Consciousness. Even
this result, however, is abstract and unsatisfactory until vitalized
in the concept of continuous creation, and quickened through
that communion with the Creator without which man can neither
be nor think himself. Finally, Continuous Creation, adequately ap-
XX— 7
98 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
prehended, is that Redemption and Reconciliation through which
alone the personality of man is secure.
As we now again glance backward upon the original order of
the successive grades of consciousness, and try to recall their ob-
jective image as an illustration of internal development, there
arises spontaneously the remembrance of that transcendental sche-
matism wherein Kant sought to exhibit the presumptive paralo-
gism in rational psychology. The truth of this schema is found
in our original order of succession. In the critical deduction, too,
the starting-point is immediate unity — it is seized as Substance in
its unity with the subject. The soul is this substance or base of
the body, and herewith immateriality. The truth of matter is the
immaterial. The second phase is the difference into which the
original unity breaks ; therefore this second phase has two sides
or limbs, for substance as regards its quality is simple, and a
monad, and consequently incorruptible ; and its identity as intel-
lectual substance gives, in Kant's phraseology, the conception of
personality or consciousness of itself and of its other. The third
stage in which the tension of the two sides is cancelled is, accord-
ing to Kant's terminology, Spirituality, or Immortality, and im-
plicit in it is the truth which we have learned to know as the
Personality of the spirit in its living Actuality. The truth is
therefore this, that to Thought the immediate unity of Substance
breaks into Individuality and Subjectivity, and from this diremp-
tion returns to a higher unity in the Spirit.
We must not overlook the fact that the psychological schema
traced and explained in the "Critique of Pure Reason," while it is
based immediately upon the triplicity of the Category of relation,
rests also upon the fourfoldness of the Table of Categories, its
middle term being double. Upon this basis of Relation rests also
the psychological development in Dr. K. Ph. Fischer's recent work
on the " Science of Metaphysics " — a volume which, as the result of
reverent yet independent investigation, challenges our warmest
thanks and admiration, while its incompleteness needs to be men-
tioned in the interest of philosophic truth. Developing the soul
in its threefold relationship to itself, to the world and to God, Dr.
Fischer fails to comprehend that relationship to God and to the
world are really the two sides of the middle sphere of proof,
while the final and inclusive sphere demands recognition of the
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 99
identity of the finite and Absolute spirits. It is characteristic of
piety, in its less developed though still praiseworthy forms, to in-
sist that philosophy shall culminate in God, and that religion, as
the relationship of man to God, shall mark the his-hest sta^e of
insight. The truth, however, is that God in his objectivity is not
the final goal of Thought, as the Israelitish faith is not the high-
est religion. The consummation and the crown of Thought is
God in his Personality, or that participative identity of the Abso-
lute Spirit with the finite Spirit which in the form of feelino- is
love, and in the form of Thought is Absolute Recognition. The
soul cries out not for God in his abstraction and isolation, but for
God, in Christ, through the Spirit.
In the order of human development the starting-point is the
Ego in itself ; in virtue of its unconscious objectivity, it is still one
with God and with the world. In the next stage the Ego appears
in its separation from God and from the world. On one side
stands the individual man ; on the other side stands God ; beneath
man is nature, and beside him his brother man. Finally, the Ego
reappears in God — in that communion with God whose solution is
Personality.
In man the Ego is first and last, the Alpha and the Omega.
With this egoism is seized in its barren abstraction, but the abstrac-
tion is at once negated, the brittle isolation annulled ! The
answer to the enigma is found, and this answer is Personality.
The concept of personality casts the final light upon the efforts
of the Understanding to prove personal persistence. In this light
egoism is transfigured and glorified, and the living truth which
underlies pantheistic self-renunciation revealed. We can, there-
fore, only repeat that as the truth of Being is Self-Consciousness, so
the Actuality of Self-Consciousness is Personality. And while on
the one hand, in the consummation of development, all the dem-
onstrations of the Understanding are focalized in the Concept of
Personality, this same concept is, on the other hand, the implicit
ground of every proof; it is the unexpressed and unrecognized
presupposition which gives convincing force to the partial utter-
ances of* the separate proofs — the truth which overpowers and con-
vinces before it is named and known. Naturally, therefore, the
necessary result of progressive development has been the increas-
ing recognition of the Concept of Personality as the Principle of
100 The Journal of Speculative Philosojth y '.
Psychology. Upon this recognition are based all those recent psy-
chological investigations which seize the soul speculatively as
immortal or actual. All these investigations agree in calling
experience to the aid of abstract thought in order thereby to dis-
cover the content of the given form, and thus attain to concrete
truth. Experience is apprehended as externalized thought or as
the material provided by Absolute Thought for the purposes of
development and actualization. Through insight into this expe-
rience we learn the form of the Spirit in its particular manifesta-
tions.
It is interesting to notice that these speculative essays, while
grounded in the same principle, develop in two different directions.
On the one hand we have the ^Esthetico-religious doctrine of
immortality represented particularly by C. H. Weisse, and on the
other the Physio-theological doctrine of immortality, the most
noted exponent of which is J. H. Fichte.
The ^Esthetico-religious Anthropology begins by rejecting the
abstract and unpicturable conception of the soul as separate from
the body. Vindicating the corporeality of the soul, it vindicates its
immortality, and, though there is nothing new in its fundamental
conception, it is original in the results which it develops from this
conception. Conformably with its theory, it announces itself not
as a psychological but as an anthropological system. It finds the
general concept of Corporeality in logical Thought, but does not
find therein its concrete truth; it turns, therefore, to the concrete
intellectual contemplation of corporeality, which, as the finite in
identity with the Infinite, or as the body in immediate union with
the Spirit, is the phenomenon of Beauty. Thus, corporeality,
"through the indwelling of the Absolute Spirit, is stamped with
immortality." This concrete intellectual contemplation, it is next
declared, goes hand in hand with experience ; we have it by living
it. By means of such experience " the higher corporeality shows
itself not unrelated to the present mortal and transitory copore-
ality." This relationship is mediated in Absolute Corporeality,
which is defined as the creative power that renews all created
corporeality. This corresponds essentially with the thought of
continuous creation. In the nature of creation is expressed its
purpose, which purpose leads by the teleological path to personal
immortality ; this immortality is possible only through the persist-
Ooeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 101
en ce of the same body, and therefore presupposes between death
and the resurrection an intermediate state in which the soul is not
bodiless. Corporization is the indispensable condition of personi-
fication ; its presupposition is that creative force of Absolute Per-
sonality which itself is presuppositionless. Through experience
thus contemplated it grows clear, also, that the purpose of crea-
tion, which is imperishability, is disturbed by sin ; through sin
death has entered into the world. This original purpose of crea-
tion will be restored when death is overcome, and to overcome
death God must be made flesh, and communicate eternal life to
the world.
Again we observe that the starting-point is the unity of the
Soul with the body in the Spirit. The distinctive peculiarity of
this system is, that it rejects all abstraction and makes explicit
the full validity of that corporeality in which the Soul is realized
as Spirit. This development moves principally within the sphere
of the second proof in both its theological and teleological direc-
tions. It teaches that the Spirit is individual and personal in
proportion to what it possesses of the substance of the Absolute
and Eternal ; " for this substance, far from robbing it of Person-
ality, really first forms it into Personality, and is able, under all
conditions to generate anew that body with which it cannot dis-
pense."
Yery similar is the procedure of the physiological or anthropo-
logical-theological method. Fully equipped, logically and onto-
logically, it traces experimentally all particularly given analogies,
obtains information from physiology and physiognomy, from phre-
nology and craniology, from animal magnetism and somnambu-
lism, and follows all the footprints of organism in order to conquer
for corporeality on all sides that which justly belongs to it. The
truth is, that the body is the expression of the Soul as individual.
Granted that the ground and essence of all reality is the Soul, the
indestructible basis of the manifold is the Simple. This " Simple"
is the "Monad" of Leibnitz and the " dynamic quality" of Her-
bart. Adequately apprehended, it is nevertheless, in time and
space, a soul and body ; it is the embodied Idea. Hereupon rests
all generation which throughout all its stages is nothing but the
self-projection of the Idea which thus actually begins to be, and
out of darkness emerges into light. Thus originates the Monad,
102 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
and its body, of which the external palpable body is merely the
manifestation. Death is the separation of the internal body of the
Soul from its outlived husk, and the process of death is far more
gradual than is generally supposed.
One cannot fail to recognize that this development emanates
from the content of the first proof, and finds its completion in the
sphere of the second proof. With respect to the latter, the first
point to be noticed is, that Consciousness has a night-side, out of
which it develops continuously toward the light. In this life
the night-side is never wholly overcome ; therefore Consciousness
demands a further development ; only under the condition of per-
sistence can Consciousness realize itself by turning all its dark-
ness into light. This is that teleological moment of the second
proof which rests upon the principle of perfectibility. This in-
sight does not, however, exclude the possibility of the destruction
of Consciousness, for when Consciousness has realized all its poten-
tialities, and thus fulfilled the purpose of Creation, why should it
not pass away ? This doubt finds its solution in the theological
phase of the second proof. Through it we learn that the finite
spirit, begotten by God, is appointed to participation with God ;
we are taught this through the revelation made in the incarnation
of God. God has revealed himself in the flesh — corporeality and
flnitude are impregnated with God. The spiritual bread of life
(pabulum mentis) is God in his revelation. This bread of life is
inexhaustible, consequently the finite spirit is imperishable. Its
nourishment can never fail, and nourishment is the physiological
condition of persistence.
So much with regard to the two speculative developments of
Personality, which, in accordance with its own Concept, includes
bodily persistence. In both, the night-side of Consciousness is ex-
perimentally verified. In their detail much is left undeveloped,
and there remain many interwoven conceptions which lack trans-
parency and mediation. In the discussion of the where of the
Soul after death (with Fichte), we become involved in conceptions
which involuntarily suggest Philo's spirits of the air. This ques-
tion, together with many others, demands more definite develop-
ment. But, notwithstanding all their defects, these speculative
developments have incontestable one distinctive merit. They ex-
hibit, more clearly than has ever been done before, the moment of
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 103
Corporeality ; they seize this moment aesthetically, and, by the aid
of analogies, follow it out physiologically, showing conclusively
that the body is the immanent organ of the Soul, identical with its
Content, and penetrated by the Spirit.
It may, perhaps, be helpful to refer in this connection to the
views of immortality and resurrection which are developed in that
Dialogue of JEneas of Gaza, known under the name of " Theo-
phrastus." According to this dialogue, the Soul, as reasonable
XoyiKr] and morally free, is immortal through its communion with
God, and the body of this soul, through participation with the
soul, Sia tt)v T>}9 tyvyf)? Koivwviav, is withdrawn from the power of
death, which prevails only over what is devoid of reason and con-
sciousness. " For," he continues, " our soul is immortal ; coming
into union with the body, it leaves in it the germ of immortality.
And the greatest of all these creations or begettings on the part of
the Demiurgus is man. Hence there is nothing that belongs to
the essence of man that can perish entirely."
This concept of soul-permeated corporeality has, however, its
presupposition in Personality : this Personality we have recog-
nized as the concrete concept of the Spirit ; only in the light of
this concept is the body transfigured and transparent. This trans-
parent corporeality in its final analysis is the obedience of the
body to the soul in the spirit — an obedience which is free because
identical with that which determines it. The final consummation
is the obedience of creation toward God in God. Therefore it has
been said that all the paths of God end in corporeality.
Upon this fundamental insight rest the confessions of Heinrich
Steffens, published about four years since, though, being derived
from experience and meditation, they present this insight only in
its crude, immediate form. The life of nature throughout all its
degrees — so runs the confession — points both backward to the
mystery of its beginning, and forward to its final purpose. All
organization, throughout the spheres of nature, consists both in
the extern alization of a hidden internality and in the fusion of the
external with this internality, or, in other words, both in the in-
carnation of souls and the permeation and transfiguration of
bodies. " No body, no soul ; no corporeality, no spirituality." In
time the present is the central point ; without a past there is no
present ; without a future there is no actuality. And as all that
104 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
exists exists in this middle point of time, so man is the middle
point of this constantly appearing creation. " In the complete
integrity of his existence lies a past which was before all ap-
pearance, and a future which shall be after all appearance." The
former is the night, or body ; the latter is the light, or soul ; the
union of the two is life.
Such are the reflections through which we are led to the con-
cept of Personality. Personality consists both in the incarnation
of the soul, through which is attained Individuality, and in the
penetration of the body by the soul, wherewith the soul stamps the
body as its possession. Personality consists, therefore, in the fusion
of body and soul — human personality in accordance with its con-
cept in the complete unity and purity of human existence. But
just for this reason human personality finds its ground and goal
in the Absolute Personality of God, and the ground and goal of
renewal after its purity has been darkened in the incarnation of
God. By this human personality is proved immortal.
" As the rays of light are refracted in each eye, and, without
disturbing, intersect each other ; as in every melody waves of sound
pierce and thrill through each other, and, while separate, are yet
inwardly united — so, had humanity kept its first estate, would each
human personality live in and with all others, each separate per-
sonality confirming and strengthening all others, and being by all
others strengthened and confirmed, while all together swelled the
harmony of an ever-blessed existence." And even though original
purity lias been clouded and mankind subsists no longer in this
transparent and harmonious personality, though nature and body
have become impenetrable and the Soul impure, " the germ of Per-
sonality, the germ of penetrability [i. e., mutual participation]
and of purification," has never perished. "It must be presup-
posed in each, and union with it is the sure road to blessedness."
It takes place through union with Christ as a fact of experience,
and by this He puts on the form of man and becomes personal.
Personality is the end of the journey toward God.
Notes and Discussions. 105
NOTES AND DISCUSSIONS.
SENTENCES IN PROSE AND VERSE.
SELECTION BY W. E. CHANNING.
With a slight blush (she sometimes seemed to blush as she breathed).
— George Eliot [Mrs. Lewes].
With such a mind, active as phosphorus, biting everything that came
near into the form that suited it. — Ibid.
A fish honestly invited to come and be eaten has a clear course in de-
clining ; but how if it finds itself swimming against a net. — George Eliot
[Mrs. Lewes].
The remark lay in his mind as lightly as the broken wing of an insect
among all the other fragments there, and a chance current had sent it
alighting on her. — Ibid.
The perception that poor Rex wanted to be tender made her curl up
and harden like a sea-anemone at the touch of a finger. — Ibid.
Art thou she
Who stepped so lightly on the lea?
Persephone, Persephone !
Mid the blue fields of starlight thou art sailing,
Adelaida. — German Song.
" What might have been is sad indeed,
What should have been is sadder still ;
The happiness our spirits need
Is not of circumstance, but will."
— From " Bethesda" by Barbara Elbon [Motto of Chapter],
It was a heavy hoop of yellow gold, with a leaf lying on it, against
which was a ruby rose with a diamond in its heart. — Ibid.
In the present age, any thought makes room for a million doubts. —
Ibid.
He was not one to lose intellectual perception through emotion. — Ibid.
Everything in Margaret's character had been drawn from chaos as it
were, and consciously formed into a rounded world ; Beth's was a sphere
launched into space with only its orbit to discover. — Ibid.
106 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
Morally, her conscience was a staff whose soundness she did not doubt ;
but mankind, and particularly womankind, feel the need of something
beside morality to fill their lives, something beyond and above it. — Ibid.
She was aware he exercised a self-control which had become a second
nature, and presented himself to the world only as he wished to be seen.
— Ibid.
My sister has a way of saying : " What would you say if you said it."
—Ibid.
She [Mabel] delighted as much in giving full blossoms, when green
buds alone were expected, as in giving a thorn-prick when one bent to
inhale a tropical fragrance. — Ibid.
" Our sympathy is a gift we never know, nor when we impart it. The
instant of communion is when, by the least point of time, we cease to
oscillate, and coincide in rest by as true a point as a star pierces the
firmament." Thoreau [Motto of Chapter]. — Ibid.
There was an iridescence of thoughts and words, which, like the sea,
rippled over an underlying strength on which we could buoyantly repose.
— Ibid.
The supreme thing one can do is to exercise one's faculties for the
benefit of others. — Ibid.
He had seen her soul step back in her eyes. — Ibid.
BOOK NOTICES.
Agamemnon's Daughter. A Poem. By Denton J. Snider, Author of "A Walk in
Hellas," " Delphic Days," etc. Boston : James R. Osgood & Co., 1885.
It will give our readers a slight clew to Mr. Snider's poem to copy from the page of
contents his titles and sub-titles : Canto I. Iphigenia at Mycenae. — The Lovers. Canto
II. Iphigenia at Aulis. — The Sacrifice. Canto III. Iphigenia at Tauris. — The Mission.
Canto IV. Iphigenia at Delphi. — The Return.
In the first Canto we have the fate of Hellas and of Iphigenia prepared in the meet-
ing at Mycenae of the Spartan Helen and the Trojan Paris. In this first prelude Iphi-
genia plays a subordinate part ; Agamemnon, Helen, and Paris, guided by fate, are precipi-
tating their several destinies, in which hers is to be involved. The bringing of Troy
under his rule was already in the mind of Agamemnon ; Paris arrives in his dominions
to pay him a friendly visit ; it is then, he bethinks him, that he will peacefully unite the
Booh Notices. 107
two thrones by bestowing his daughter Iphigenia upon Paris. This plan appears to be
preparing when Helen arrives, and when Paris and she meet they read their destiny in
each other's face. Iphigenia is lost sight of for the moment, until, learning of the
flight of Helen with Paris, her prescience reveals to her that her own doom is sealed. In
the second Canto the scene is at Aulis. The war for the recovery of Helen has been
declared ; the Hellenes are on their way to Troy, but delayed by the winds. And here
we begin to get sight of the motive of Mr. Snider's poem. Here, in the speeches of the
chieftains of the army, Agamemnon, Palamedes, Diomed, Ulysses and Achilles, it is
writ in distinct phrase and with deep spiritual meaning that, in the recovery of Helen,
not only each individual, but the Hellenic state must find its moral salvation and politi-
cal freedom. For the first time the old Greek world rises into self-consciousness into
reflection upon the effects of its own deeds. But Iphigenia has gone even now one step
farther ; she sees, beyond the fate that impels, the results that must follow, into the path
of recovery, through self-sacrifice, apparent, miraculous removal to barbarian lands,
where she is to be purified and educated for a return to her own people, whom she will
advance once more in the path of civilization. Thus it will be seen that the actual
course of Greek history has been transformed in Mr. Snider's poem into a more or less
conscious motive and synchronized with the age and events of the Trojan war. This is
certainly an original if not violent rendering of the story.
It is rather startling to hear from the lips of Greeks such amiable and doctrinaire
sentiments. The genuine classical spirit has hitherto endeavored to realize to itself the
ancient world by keeping within the limits of that world's own habits of thought and
methods of expression. Mr. Snider boldly carries into it all the Christian principles,
philanthropy, and philosophy of the nineteenth century. Goethe, Landor and Keats, and
Vergil in the Eclogues, do something toward reproducing for us our ideals of Greek
spirit and form. The opening of Goethe's " Iphigenia in Tauris " has certainly all we
imagine of Greek repose, Greek symmetry, and nobility of poetic expression. So have
Landor's " Hellenics " and Keats's minor poems. But every poet must be judged by his
own spirit and intention. Mr. Snider does not propose, evidently, to deal with the
Greek world in an ideal or conventional fashion, but rather in the style of philosophical
history. As such we must try to read it, and find out the new interpretation of the
old and venerable story. A new interpretation it is ; motived with all that is modern,
namely, self-sacrifice, not immolation, the Goethean problem of reconciliation through
renunciation, the efficacy of sorrow and suffering, and, finally, the grand revelation of
history that the unconscious efforts of individuals and of nations have had in them
potentially the things which we now see. Take now these results, and, carrying them
back to the hearts of the actors in the Trojan war, make them their determined and con-
scious purpose, and one has a clearer light in which to study "Agamemnon's Daughter."
What, then, is the teaching of history respecting humanity, its trials and its errors, as
developed in this poem ? In the second Canto, where, as we have said, much of the
motive is disclosed, we also find the doctrine of atonement stated in two forms ; the one
most strongly emphasized is the return of the deed upon the doer ; or, as the winds at
Aulis sing —
" We spirits are that blow to man his deed."
The other is the mystical idea of vicarious sacrifice ; and it is this latter which, at this
point of the story, involves the child Iphigenia. She is, however, saved by the very
Diana whose sanctities had been violated, and who had demanded the victim in expia-
tion. Iphigenia is saved, and borne away to Barbary by the goddess.
108 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
The third Canto takes us to the kingdom of Thoas, in Barbary. Its sub-title is " The
Mission," and this might very well stand for the running title and theme of the whole
poem. It is Iphigeuia's " Mission " first to be sacrificed, by which the Greek forces
assembled at Aulis are released from the obstructions which threaten their voyage to
Troy, thus opening the way for the recovery of their honor. Secondly, Iphigenia has a
"Mission" to perform to the barbarian world, teaching it — but here we will quote two
stanzas from the third " Canto," which declare sufficiently her "Mission" to Greek, to
the Barbarian, and again to the Greek.
"So flashed afar in dreams her shadowy thought;
More than what Hellas hath she will impart
Unto that savage folk ; it will be taught
A deeper Beauty and a holier Art,
Which is the inner flow of human heart ;
The people will to nobler regions rise ;
Her deed, her life become their highest part,
She will endow them with her sacrifice.
" The bound of Barbary she will transcend,
And make all Greek beyond the Grecian pale ;
The Gentile hate in her will have an end
When her new spirit shall in love prevail,
And free the prisoned world from its own jail ;
Old Hellas, too, will share her blessing great,
The distant threat she sweeps from hill and dale,
For the Hellenic laud she breaks down Fate."
We have in the third Canto a larger motive than has been hitherto revealed ; in it we
have hinted the historical contact of the oriental and occidental world. Iphigenia is the
embodiment of that march of civilization, which, proceeding from the east to the west,
continually countermarches, and in the very act of transforming other nations is itself
transformed ; in saving others, redeems itself. We should have no disposition to read
all this into Mr. Spider's poem had he not himself written it into the text in good set
terms. Rather our disposition would be to have our imagination and poetic sensibilities
awakened. It is difficult to exchange this anticipation, with which we unconsciously
open a new poem, for an immediate demand upon reflection and a recurrence to the
philosophical interpretation of Greek legend. It is then no longer poetry, according to
the experience and tradition of mankind ; it does not free us, as poetry should, from our
individual and mundane fetters, but only surrounds us with a new set of circumstances,
doubtless morally efficacious, but not exhilarating. But here the poet of " Agamem-
non's Daughter " wills that it should be so, and we must obey, if we would gain any
profit from his work. Only let us keep our eyes well open that we may gather the full
import of his design and his manner of treatment.
For twenty years Iphigenia is supposed to have dwelt at Tauris, civilizing the people
by all the arts and wisdom of her native land. The traditional episode of Thoas's love
for her, his rejection and threats, is woven into this portion of the poem ; also her dis-
covery and rescue by Orestes, her brother. She is about to leave Tauris, but not before
she has conciliated Thoas by preaching him a little sermon from the same text that we
hear all through this poem, as follows :
Booh Notices. 109
" ' If thou dost truly love and honor me,
Thou wilt surrender me to blessedness ;
If what I am in truth possesses thee,
Thou wilt pass by thy right, thy sharp distress,
And thine own sacrifice alone wilt press ;
By keeping me, thou hast me not indeed ;
By sending me, thou hast me none the less :
This is to thee my last, my highest meed.
" ' If I may not my native land restore,
The spirit cries, I shall myself not save ;
If thou detain me on the Taurian shore,
Thy liberator me thou wilt enslave,
And thou no liberty thyself wilt have ;
It is my time to go, my time just now ;
As long as the Greek brother is a slave,
I am not free myself — not free art thou.' "
Then Thoas relents — nay, must take her back to Greece himself. Europe, represented
in the person of Thoas and his companions, must restore Iphigenia to her own people,
thus completing the circle of events, which also symbolizes the moral circle of deeds
that accompanies them, and gives them all their significance.
" Europa's children seize the fleeting chance
To bring her home and to perfect their deed ;
For they will hers and their own worth enhance,
When they have to the full repaid her meed,
And in their fealty are ripe to bleed ;
When placed again upon her ancient seat,
She, too, hath won herself, is truly freed,
And they, completing her, themselves complete.
" So act these men in noble gratitude
To her who gave to them what was their best,
Who changed the jungled earth, the savage rude,
Into a land and people that were blest,
Obeying human law and God's behest ;
But now the last and greatest deed is done,
Return to Hellas is the final test,
Whereby Greek and Barbarian are one."
The doctrine contained in the closing lines of this stanza we have now become so fa-
miliar with in studying the poem, repeated as it is at every important point of the poem,
that, although at first we described it as motiving the poem, the reader will begin to believe
is rather its machinery, and standing in place of Fate, or the greater gods of classic
poetry. There is indeed this danger in too freely declaring even the moral content in a
work of art by the author himself; it becomes didactic; it confines us to one interpre-
tation; holds us at one window of the poet's mansion. In the fourth and la^i Canto
the scene is at Delphi. Hither comes Iphigenia with all her barbarian companions ; hither
also all the Greeks, all the now ancient heroes of the Trojan war, and Helen ; for it is a fes-
110 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
tival. After twenty years Iphigenia finds much change ; her countrymen are, however,
of the same savage inward nature as those she had left behind in Tauris. She feels that
her mission can only be ended by their redemption. It is a favorable moment ; all are
gathered at Delphi to reconcile the present, to forgive the past ; even Apollo, so long at
enmity with the Greeks, has returned to his ancient shrine. It is a moment to fix in
perpetual form. This Iphigenia accomplishes by becoming the priestess of Delphi, the
oracle of the regenerate Apollo, god now of inward light instead of the outer ; and in
her wisdom, received through him, she releases Greece from the dominion of Fates and
Furies, widens the bounds of their vision, makes them truly free by art, poetry, and
knowledge gathered from every clime, and teaches them to ignore the distinctions of
east and west, north and south. Then the Muses, who have participated in the liber-
ating spirit which Iphigenia has brought into the world, sing this closing song in her
praise :
" ' Now hast thou made thy deed, thyself complete,
Not till thou hast removed man's narrow bound
Can we in song thine own fair freedom greet ;
Thy brother's limits must thine own be found,
Thou shalt not stand, till he rise from the ground ;
In freeing him, thou art thyself set free,
Thy sacrifice hath to thyself come round,
And, through another, hath perfected thee.
" ' We sing thine Aulian, Taurian, Delphic deed,
Done for the sake of Greek and all mankind ;
But in the deed thou hast received the meed.
Thou art now whole in character and mind,
Thou and the world one harmony designed.
Of human life thou hast well won the height,
All in thyself, thyself in all dost find,
And show what man will be in his own right.
" ' Not thou alone, all are to be made whole,
Each being on the earth thine image true,
And in his own reflect thy perfect soul,
As thou hast done, will he forever do.
Yet to us rises a still vaster view :
The nations shall renounce for one another,
Therein, like thee, shall win their freedom too,
When each shall look on each as its own brother.
" ' Such strains rose out the fount where Muses dwell,
Last herald of the newer minstrelsy ;
The perfect image floating in their well
Did rise and walk into the mortal eye,
Clad in the vesture Time shall on it try,
Transfigured into music and sweet grace ;
And all therein the mightier semblance could descry :
The man's, the nation's, and the world's one face.' "
John Albee.
Boohs Received. Ill
BOOKS RECEIVED.
Jean Jacques Rousseau. Emile ; or, Concerning Education. Extracts containing the
Principal Elements of Pedagogy found in the First Three Books. With an Introduction
and Notes by Jules Steeg, Depute, Paris, France. Translated by Eleanor Worthington,
formerly of the Cook Co. Normal School, 111. Boston : Published by Ginn, Heath &
Co. 1885.
Ein Beitrag zur Beurteilung Condillacs. Inaugural-Dissertation zur Erlangung der
philosophischen Doctorwurde, auf der Universitiit zu Jena ; von Konrad Burger. Alten-
burg : Buchdruckerei von Oskar Bonde. 1885.
Address to the Students of the University of Edinburgh. By Sir Alexander Grant,
Bart, D. C. L., LL. D., etc., etc., Vice-Chancellor and Principal of the University. De-
livered on 28th October, 1884. Published under the Sanction of the Senatus Academi-
cus. Edinburgh and London : William Blackwood & Sons. MDCCCLXXXIV.
De Humanse Cognitionis Modo Origine ac Profectu ad Mentem S. Thomae Doctoris
Angelici. Auctore J. B. Tornatore, C. M., in Collegio Alberoniano S. Theologiae Profes-
sore Emerito. Placentia? : Typis " Divus Thomas." MDCCCLXXXV.
Diplomatic Woman. An Essay. Read before the Century Club of St. Louis, Mo. By
Miss Thekla M. Bernays. A Christmas Souvenir. St. Louis : Nixon-Jones Printing Co.
1883.
On the Ethics of Naturalism. By W. R. Sorley, M. A., Fellow of Trinity College,
Cambridge, and Examiner in Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. (Shaw
Fellowship Lectures, 1884.) Edinburgh and London: William Blackwood & Sons.
MDCCCLXXXV.
The Lord's Day. An Essay, attempted in Verse. Glasgow : Thomas Murray & Son.
MDCCCLXXXIII.
Twenty-Five Sermons of Twenty-five Years. By William J. Potter. Boston : George
H. Ellis, 141 Franklin Street. 1885.
Principii d'una Preistoria del Diritto ; come Propeteudica, alia Preistoria del Diritto
Romano. Pel Dr. A. Zocco-Rosa, Avvocato a Catania. Milano : Presso Giorgio Grieb
& C. Librai-Editori, 25 Via Larga. 1885.
Compte rendu du congres international d'instituteurs et d'institutrices ; tenu au Havre
du 6 au 10 Septembre, 1885. Paris : Imprimerie Nationale. MDCCCLXXXV.
Giacomo Barzellotti. David Lazzaretti, di Arcidosso detto il Santo, i suoi Seguaci e
la sua Leggenda. Bologna : Nicola Zanichelli. MDCCCLXXXV.
Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Vol. XL 1881-'82. No. 110.
Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. Vol. XII. 1882-'83. No. 113.
The Place of Art in Education. A Lecture. By Thomas Davidson, M. A. Boston :
Published by Ginn & Co. 1885.
112 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
Space and Touch. By Dr. Edmund Montgomery. (Reprinted from " Mind," a Quar-
terly Journal of Psychology and Philosophy. No. XXXVIII.)
Same, continued ; in " Mind," No. XXXIX.
A Study of Hegel. By Mrs. Ellen M. Mitchell, of Denver, Col. Delivered before the
Women's Congress, in Baltimore, Md., 1884.
Theosophy from a German Point of View.
The Philosophy of the State and of History. By George S. Morris. Ginn, Heath &
Co. 1883.
The New Psychology. G. Stanley Hall. (From the " Andover Review.")
The Morals of Christ. A Comparison with Contemporaneous Systems. By Austin
Bierbower, author of " Principles of a System of Philosophy." Chicago, 111. : Colegrove
Book Co. 1885.
Organic Scientific Philosophy. Scientific Theism. By Francis Ellingwood Abbot,
Ph. D. Boston: Little, Brown & Co. 1885.
Hobbes. By George Croom Robertson, Grote Professor of Philosophy of Mind and
Logic in University College, London. Edinburgh and London : William Blackwood &
Sons. MDCCCLXXXVI.
Human Psychology. (First Division.) The Intellect. An Introduction to Philosophy.
By Rev. E. Janes, A. M. Oakland, Cal. : W. B. Hardy. 1884.
The Philosophy of Ralph Cudworth. A Study of the True Intellectual System of the
Universe. By Charles E. Lowrey, A. M. New York : Phillips & Hunt. Cincinnati :
Cranston & Stowe. 1884.
Above the Grave of John Odenswurge, a Cosmopolite. By J. Dunbar Hylton, M. D.,
author of "The Bride of Gettysburg," "Arteloise," "Betrayed," "The Pra?sicide,"
"The Heir of Lyolynn," etc., etc. New York: Howard Challen, 744 Broadway. 1884.
And the author, Palmyra, N. J.
On Mr. Spencer's Data of Ethics. By Malcolm Guthrie, author of " On Mr. Spencer's
Formula of Evolution," and " On Mr. Spencer's Unification of Knowledge." London :
The Modern Press, 13 and 14 Paternoster Row, E. C. 1884.
The Elements of Moral Science, Theoretical and Practical. By Noah Porter, D. D.,
LL. D., President of Yale College. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. 1885.
Ethica ; or, the Ethics of Reason. By Scotus Novanticus, author of " Metaphysica
Nova et Vetusta." Williams and Norgate, 14 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, London,
and 20 South Frederick Street, Edinburgh. 1885.
Talks with my Boys. By William A. Mowry, for twenty years Senior Principal of the
English and Classical School, Providence, R. I. Boston : New England Publishing Com-
pany. 1885.
Outlines of the Philosophy of Religion. Dictated Portions of the Lectures of Her-
mann Lotze. Translation edited by George T. Ladd, Professor of Philosophy in Yale
College. Boston : Ginn, Heath & Co. 1885.
THE JOURNAL
OF
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.
Vol. XX.] Apkil, 1886. [No. 2.
THE NATURE OF THOUGHT.
BY S. S. HEBBERD.
Prefatory Request. — I have been for many years engaged in
verifying the doctrine of this essay. But very often the parti-
ality of a thinker for his thoughts hides from him chasms of in-
consequence that are apparent at a glance to others. I therefore
send forth the essay, not for publication in the ordinary sense,
but in order to submit its doctrine to the final and only decisive
testing of other minds. My request, very earnestly made, is that
those who discover a serious defect in the reasoning of these pages
will send a brief notice thereof to my address. 1
Contents.
Chapter I. The Principle and Self-Consciousness.
II. Perception.
III. Classification.
IV. Reasoning.
V. Nature.
VI. The Conscious Cause. «
VII. Comparative Philosophy.
1 Rev. S. S. Hebberd, La Crosse, Wis.
XX —8
114 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
Chapter I.
The Principle and Self- Consciousness.
All thinking consists fundamentally in a relating of cause and
effect. To establish this principle and to make it the ground-
work of philosophy is the object of this essay.
Two cautions must first be noted. (1) The principle here given
should not be confounded with any later generalizations affirming
the uniformity of causation or that "every change must have a
cause." All such generalizations give us highly complex products
of thinking; the process through which these products have been
gained — whether by experience or some mysterious intuitional
way — still remains a matter of earnest philosophic dispute. We
make here no assumptions ; we affirm no postulates of inexplicable
a priori origin. We seek solely to show the nature of thinking by
reducing all its varied and complex modes to one elementary form
of action. Only thus can the nature of anything be scientifically
known.
(2) While all thinking consists in a relating of cause and effect,
this relating is often, of course, very crude and faulty. We are
continually assuming causes that are not causes and setting effects
in false relations ; it is the chief office of reasoned or inductive ex-
perience to correct these errors. But, while our beliefs are thus
continually changing, the nature of the thinking process remains
always the same. The process may be carried out to different
degrees of perfection, but it must always be essentially a relating
of cause and effect.
If the doctrine of this essay can be established, the two chief
objects of philosophy are evidently gained. The first object is a
principle of unity. After that philosophy has always striven and
been always baffled. The intuition alist finds himself confronted
by a host of inexplicable intuitions, bearing no mark of kinship
save the mystery of their origin. The empiricist reduces all to the
unity of experience, but that is very plainly a merely verbal unity ;
our experience is but the sum total of our mental states, and for
this vast aggregate empiricism furnishes no unifying principle.
The Post-Kantian philosophy of Germany came nearer to the
truth than either; and yet it only reached at last the altogether
The Natiwe of Thought. 115
paradoxical unity of contradictions. But we have here all thought
reduced to the unity of a simple and thoroughly rational process.
The second object of philosophy has been to find a final criterion
of truth. Since Kant the only criterion much insisted on has been
merely subjective, relative to the mental organization of human
beings. That of course leaves the question alwa} 7 s open, whether
there may not be other and higher kinds of. thinking freed from
the axiomatic necessities imposed upon us by the peculiar struct-
ure of the human intellect. Kant was always harassing himself
by some such question about a higher or " Noumenal " kind of
knowledge different from that merely "Phenomenal" kind to
which the human mind was confined ; and every one knows
what a part this harassment has ever since played in philosophy.
But, if the doctrine cf this essay can be established, all this van-
ishes like mist. If the very nature of thinking consists in a re-
lating of cause and effect, then all thinking of all possible orders
of intelligences must conform to this nature. A process or ac-
tivity — higher or lower — which does not conform to it, is not
thinking; the products of such a process are not knowledge; the
predicates "true 1 ' and "false" can no more be applied to them
than to sticks or stones. In a word, thinking, although a pro-
cess having infinite degrees of perfection, is in its nature essen-
tially one. It is absurd to inquire whether there may not be
some other kind of thinking besides thinking.
We begin now our examination of the different processes of
thought. The most rudimentary of these is that mental action
which we describe as self-conscious ness. All knowledge begins,
either explicitly or implicitly, with the affirmation : I think. But
this affirmation shows itself, upon the slightest reflection, as a re-
lating of cause and .effect. Every act of self -consciousness is a
synthesis of these two ever-present elements : the I conceived as
the, at least, partial cause of its own thought — the one and per-
manent cause of the present mental state, of other past states, and
potentially of other states still future. You cannot take away
either of these elements without mutilating and destroying the
act of self-consciousness.
Very simple this seems, and yet to an ignoring of it some of
the most fatal metaphysical errors have been directly due. First
116 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
and most important of these errors is Hume's doctrine of the
mind as merely a series of conscious states.
It is admitted upon all sides that the testimony of conscious-
ness is here final ; if its testimony in regard to our own thoughts
is rejected, all possibility of knowing anything is at an end. The
only question is: To what does self-consciousness testify? Hume
and his followers say : Solely to a series of conscious states. But
that is a phrase absolutely without meaning, except as we refer
this series of conscious states to some permanent identity that is
conscious of them. The two elements — the effect and its cause,
the conscious state and the one conscious of it — are so indissolu-
bly united that we are unable, not merely to think, but even to
express the one without affirming the other. In a word, the testi-
mony of consciousness, according to Hume's version of it, is utter-
ly worthless, for the simple reason that it is entirely unintelligible
and self -contradictory.
J. S. Mill saw this with sufficient clearness to confess that
Hume's doctrine ''involves a paradox"; and that "it cannot be
expressed in any terms which do not deny its truth." He at-
tempts, indeed, to break the force of his admission by suggesting
that we are here in the presence of " an ultimate and inexplicable
fact." But that is mere evasion. The question here is not con-
cerning the explanation of a fact, but concerning the meaning of
testimony. And very plainly testimony which is incomprehensi-
ble, which cannot be expressed save in self-contradictory terms,
is evidence of nothing save its own worthlessness. Hume and his
followers, then, virtually annul the testimony of consciousness by
eliminating from it all that gives it intelligible meaning.
Of similar import is Kant's doctrine. All his argumentation in
regard to this matter revolves around the conception of the soul as
substance. But the category of substance and accident is a deriva-
tive one, the result of a complex process hereafter to be described ;
and it is easy enough for Kant to show that the simple act of self-
consciousness does not affirm self under any such derivative and
complex conception as this. Hence his thoroughly agnostic con-
clusion that the self is not given in self-consciousness, is only as-
sumed as the ideal object of a " rational faith." All these agnos-
tic perplexities vanish instantly before the doctrine of this essay.
Self-consciousness is a relating of cause and effect. It relates our
The Nature of Thought. 117
mental states not as qualities to a substance, but as effects to their
one and permanent cause — as thought to a thinker. This synthe-
sis of thought and thinker can never be dissolved. Whoever at-
tempts to dissolve it will only take all meaning out of, and so
virtually annul, the testimony of consciousness.
Consider now the doctrine of Fichte, in whose system the whole
Post-Kantian philosophy is germinally infolded. Fichte's doctrine
is the precise antithesis to that of Hume ; the initial error of each
is complementary to that of the other. Hume saw in self-con-
sciousness only an affirmation of successive mental states. Fichte,
upon the other hand, lays stress solely upon the affirmation of self.
As the starting-point for his constructions he takes the proposition
that "the fundamental activity of all consciousness is the affirma-
tion of the self by the Ego." But that is as one sided and mis-
leading as the counter-statement of Hume. Consciousness does
not affirm self in the Fichtean sense — that is, absolutely ; nor does
it affirm the successive mental states in Hume's sense — that is, ab-
solutely. Thought cannot be known except as related to its cause,
the thinker; nor can the thinker be known except as related to
his effects or thoughts. No knowledge — no intelligible meaning
even — emerges until we put together those two elements which,
kept apart, are both equally unknown and unknowable.
Does the criticism seem too minute? But just here, in Fichte's
exposition of self-consciousness, was generated that doctrine of
absolute identity that so long ruled and finally ruined the Post-
Kantian philosophy of Germany. Self, according to Fichte, affirms
itself; is at once subject and object ; "in the absolute identity of
subject and object consists the very nature of consciousness "
( Werke, ii, 442). But this identity, so far from being absolute,
is entirely dependent upon a loose, vague form of speech. Self
affirming self is not a perfect but a fatally mutilated description
of self-consciousness. What self-consciousness really affirms is a
relation existing between conscious thought and its cause. A
trivial distinction ? And yet this initial error, seemingly so slight,
vitiated the whole course of what, in many respects, was the most
splendid speculative movement of modern times.
We have, then, not merely established our principle so far as
self-consciousness is concerned. That was, comparatively, an easy
task. But the principle has also been shown, I think, as the only
118 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
true starting-point of philosophy. The one-sidedness and the con-
flicts of philosophic systems are grounded in the failure to recog-
nize that every process of thought must be fundamentally a relating
of cause and effect.
Chapter II.
Perception.
My conscious experience, then, is primarily presented before me
as a succession of mental states of which I am, partially at least,
the cause. But between these states there is a marked difference.
Of those called imaginative, I am conscious as almost entirely the
effects of my own activity ; although even here I only put together
material furnished from other sources. In the recollective states
my consciousness of productive or controlling power is still less ;
in the perceptive states it sinks to its minimum. Around these
last the disputes and divisions of philosophy have always centred ;
and they therefore demand a special consideration.
Although in perception my own causal activity is at its mini-
mum, it is still always present and indispensable. Without some
conscious putting forth of mental effort there is no perception.
When the mind is attending to something else, the most vivid phe-
nomena may pass by without being perceived. But in every per-
ceptive thought there is an element of which I am conscious as
being beyond my control — a regular recurrence of the parts, a
fixed order of the whole which no mental effort of mine is able
to change. Every perception contains an element that I relate to
myself as cause; but also a much larger element that I cannot
thus relate. But this also, by the very nature of thought, must be
related to a cause or causes. And so instantaneously with the first
dawn of consciousness I gain the conception of an external world
— the sum-total of the causes producing effects of which I am con-
scious, but which I cannot control.
The exposition is summary ; and a suspicion may thus be ex-
cited that it glides over the real difficulties of the question without
solving them. That it does not may best be shown by comparison
with other philosophic systems.
First : Consider the Philosophy of Common Sense, declaring per-
ception to be an ultimate, inexplicable fact admitting of no analy-
The Nature of Thought. 119
sis. But that doctrine is merely the last refuge of distressed phi-
losophers. It has absolutely nothing in its favor except that the
perceptive problem has not yet been solved. By what right does
any one pronounce perception a simple, indecomposable act, defy-
ing all analysis, when upon its very surface it appears as complex
in the highest degree? There is, first, the idea of a perceiving
mind, then of a peculiar mode and measure of the mind's activity,
then of an object perceived — and these three interacting in an end-
less variety of subtile implications. A sensation, by itself, is an
exceedingly complicated process, a chain of movements of which
we only know a link here and there, while the rest are secluded in
the deepest darkness. But a perception is the resultant of many
different sensations modifying each other, and all modified by the
almost automatic action of the mind. All this complexity is not
made simple merely because we can express it by the simple word
" perceive."
A peculiar form of the Common-Sense philosophy is the doc-
trine of Hamilton, and perhaps of Reid, which attempts to prove
the reality of objective existence from the testimony of conscious-
ness. That seems to me specially objectionable. The office of
consciousness is to testify to inner phenomena; when its authority
is stretched over the whole outer universe, it ceases to be a guar-
antee for anything, either within or without. The authority of
consciousness thus impaired, philosophy has no starting-point of
certainty, and can make no progress. Nor is anything really
gained toward proving objective existence. To say that I am
conscious of the existence of the object is merely to say that I
know it exists. We have only the old argument, or rather asser-
tion, of the common-sense philosopher put in a new and more ob-
jectionable form.
Second : Hypothetic Dualism, as it has been called since Ham-
ilton's day. This, the generally accepted doctrine of philosophic
thinkers in all ages, I characterize as a crude and provisional state-
ment of the truth. Part of that crudeness has already passed
away. We hear little more of the representative images that once
played so great a part in philosophy. Instead, the antithetical
elements in perception are quite generally expressed in terms of
cause and effect.
But a more serious defect still clings to this doctrine. It rests
120 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
the reality of the sensible world upon some intuitive or instinctive
inference that the mind is compelled to make from the effects pro-
duced upon it. I object to this on two grounds. First, to the hy-
pothesis of intuitions therein contained. One of the chief objects
of this essay is to do away with that motley host of intuitions —
mathematical, physical, and moral — that have been so arbitrarily
assumed in philosophy ; or rather to explain them — in the scien-
tific sense of explanation — by reducing them to the action of a
common principle ; in other words, to show them not as mere in-
stincts mysteriously implanted within us, but as necessarily result-
ing from the very nature of thought as a relating of cause and
effect. And so in the present case, instead of regarding my belief
in objective existence as merely one in an incongruous host of in-
explicable instincts, I look upon it as a postulate necessitated by
the very nature of thought.
Secondly, I object to considering the belief in objective exist-
ence as an inference. An inference implies succession of ideas;
one or more thoughts being present, from them I infer something
consequent. But this is impossible in the present case; for, from
the very nature of the thinking process, the effects produced upon
me only become thoughts by being related to their cause. In-
stead of the cause being an inference from the effect, both are given
together in the first flash of real thinking ; each is the necessary
complement of the other in that indissoluble synthesis which alone
constitutes a perfect thought.
Let this last distinction be adhered to as something supremely
essential. We must fully realize that the uncertainty of mere in-
ference is something very different from that absolute certainty
and that perfect fusion of elements which are shown in perception.
It is this aspect of certainty and complete fusion which has in-
duced some to describe perception as an ultimate fact defying all
analysis. But we have now analyzed it.
Thirdly : Subjective Idealism. — This is rather a philosophic
enigma to be solved than a doctrine to be rejected. No one really
believes a doctrine so paradoxical. And yet philosophy — much
to its disgrace — has never been able to precisely point out the fal-
lacy upon which the paradox rests ; has contented itself, for the
most part, with sneers and assertions. But from our present point
of view the enigma is readily solved.
The Nature of Thought. 121
The root of the paradox lies in an attempt to philosophize over
mere figures of speech — purely physical expressions adopted by
common language as a crude description of mental phenomena.
In this loose, figurative way we distinguish between the internal
and the external, as if self was a mystic sort of vessel within which
are thoughts and without are things. Starting from this, the sub-
jective idealist bewilders himself over the problem : how to pass
from that which is within to that which is without. But such
terms as internal and external, within and without, when applied
to mental phenomena, have no significance for philosophy. They
are purely spatial terms, strictly applicable only to physical things ;
and, however useful in common speech, whenever we apply them
with literal exactitude to thoughts, and attempt to philosophize
over them, we fall, of course, into bewilderment and paradox. True
philosophy will refuse to thus bewilder itself with figures of
speech. It will discuss the problem of thought only in the terms
prescribed by the very nature of thought — terms of cause and
effect. Thus strictly stated, the problem becomes a very simple
one. Ideas, mental states, are, by themselves, utterly unthinkable ;
they become objects of knowledge, or even of thought, only by
being put into causal relations with something else. The true
antithesis — not that of internal and external, but of ideas and
something related to them as their producing cause — is necessi-
tated by the \evy nature of thought.
But the subjective idealist may object that he does not deny
the causality ; he merely affirms that the ideas have no cause but
self — there is nothing but the thinker and his thought. But this
is really but a bewildered and roundabout way of annulling the
testimony of self-consciousness. We have the causality, as we
have seen, given by the very nature of thought. The special pur-
pose of self-consciousness is to separate from this causality the self
as partial cause and to affirm its limitations. To break down
these limits, to make self inclusive of all causality — is not that evi-
dently to annul the testimony of self-consciousness, the very object
of which is to establish this line of separation?
Through this we see the real character of subjective idealism.
It is a volatile and elusive form of speculation that will never as-
sume any really definite shape except to him who recognizes it as
a mystified form of materialism. Both start from a common error,
122 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
the effacing of the distinction that self-consciousness establishes
between what is produced and what is not produced by self; both
thus reach a common conclusion, that all is produced by a homo-
geneous causality. The only difference between them is that one
calls this cause matter, the other calls it mind. But this for them
is a difference in sound, not in sense. Both, by contradicting self-
consciousness, have taken away all possible ground of distinction
between mind and matter.
Fourthly : Objective Idealism. — We have found three certain-
ties attested by the conjoint action of self-consciousness and the
nature of thought : First, ideas or mental states ; second, self as the
partial cause of them ; third, a not-self or objective causality. To
deny, or even to doubt, these certainties is absolutely impossible :
for denying or doubting is a process of conscious thinking, and
every process of conscious thinking, when fully unfolded, has been
seen to involve in its very nature these three affirmations. The
negation of them means the cessation of thought. Since, now,
objective idealism denies neither of these three primary affirma-
tions, it is but a comparatively harmless and inoffensive kind of
skepticism. In fact, it is hardly skepticism at all in any practical
sense, but merely an attempt to explain the relation between the
objective causality and our mental states. Its vice is that it is
mere dogmatism ; an attempt to forestall the work of scientific
experience, to put a priori speculation in the place of induction.
The explanation thus attained is well known. It assumes, first,
that all causal action proceeds from one Infinite Being ; secondly,
that all perceptions are produced by this Infinite Cause acting di-
rectly upon the finite mind without the intervention of any medi-
ate agencies. All, therefore, that seems to intervene between this
Oause and my perceptive states — that is, the whole mechanism of
heaven and earth — is mere dream and illusion. But plainly this
is a very futile kind of explanation. It has, first, no ground in
reason ; if there is an objective causality capable of thus acting
directly upon finite thought, it is impossible to conceive why it
should not produce other effects quite independent of the perceiv-
ing mind — other action more permanent and orderly than these
fugitive impressions that come and go before our consciousness.
Secondly, it explains nothing; it leaves all the facts — especially
of the historic and geologic past — in a far deeper mystery than
The Nature of Thought. 123
before. It is, in fine, an explanation founded upon the most vio-
lent assumptions, and in itself far more inexplicable than that
which it pretends to explain.
Against all this, objective idealism has but one argument. We
can know, it asserts, nothing but the effects directly produced
upon the mind; we are conscious only of sensations, mental im-
pressions ; bodies or substances from which these effects are sup-
posed to proceed are but figments which the mind invents to
give unity to its perceptions ; even if such substances really existed,
we have no means of knowing anything about them. Such, in
brief, is Berkeley's argument, so often declared invincible even by
those who reject its conclusion. Nor, indeed, can it be answered
save through the doctrine of this essay.
That answer is now evident. Thought is a synthesis of cause
and effect. It is not possible for reason to annul this synthesis
so as to contemplate or to gain an independent knowledge of the
effect by itself or the cause by itself. Is it not apparent — despite
Berkeley's assertion — that I have no knowledge of mental effects,
impressions, or sensations by themselves % I have, indeed, some
indistinct glimpse of a physical process of effectuation leading
from the object into the bodily organism. But at the very point
where the physical process is transformed into a mental effect it
entirely eludes me. The process passes into the deepest darkness.
It emerges again into the light of consciousness as an idea, a per-
ception. But now the idea of an effect produced is inseparably
conjoined— fused with the idea of a producing cause.
No effect, then, can become an object of knowledge, or even of
thought, save as related to some cause, and conversely no cause,
save as related to its effects. With this we leave the Berkeleian
argument, that sole support of the thesis of objective idealism.
One matter remains to be noted.
The Progress of Experience. — Our first crude perceptions
naturally present objective causality to us as a vast concourse of
things or substances. Our sensations of color, figure, resistance,
etc., are given to us in fixed and persistent groups ; and each of
these groups of effects, actual and potential, is naturally related by
us to one permanent cause. But this first crude view of objective
existence has been changed by the progress of scientific experience,
as we shall see hereafter. For the present let us remember three
124 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
things : 1. These changes, although having an idealistic drift, do
not support the extreme conclusions of idealism. 2. They have
been established by strict processes of inductive proof, not by
apriori speculations after the fashion of the idealist. 3. How-
ever much our view of objective existence may be modified, the
fundamental principle of thinking is never changed. There can
be no thinking where there is no relating of cause and effect.
The foregoing criticism of the different theories of perception
has, of course, been very fragmentary and imperfect. But enough
has been done, I trust, to establish our principle, and to show it
as the only possible pathway out of the perplexities and endless
disputes that have heretofore gathered around the problem of
perception.
Chapter III.
Classification.
The whole subject of classification has been so confused by one-
sided systems of thought that it is necessary to begin with a brief
criticism of the different tendencies of logical speculation.
First, Ancient Realism. — It is the fashion of modern thought
to dismiss this with disdain. But disdain is not the method of
genuine philosophy, especially when it deals with natural tenden-
cies of the human spirit that have crystallized into great systems
of thought. It is pure folly to wave aside Realism as a mere va-
gary of the middle ages. It was the ruling impulse in all ancient
philosophy, Greek, Roman, or Oriental. Aristotle, although he
wages war against the mere poetry of the Platonic realism, is him-
self a thorough realist, especially in his physical inquiries. But
why speak of the ancients ? Realism, although no longer formally
defended, is just as pervasive in our modern thought.
The origin of this wide-spread realistic tendency is readily ap-
parent from our present point of view. I find many different
bodies or substances affecting me in precisely similar ways — pro-
ducing precisely similar effects or sensations of redness, roundness,
solidity, etc. It follows, from what we have seen to be the very
nature of the thinking process, that this similarity of effects can
only be thought by being related to some producing cause. And
the first crude efforts of the mind to express this causality give
The Nature of Thought. 125
rise to the conception of qualities inherent in substances. And,
when a certain set or fixed grouping of qualities is noticed as
always present in a number of objects, there arises the further
conception of the specific, the generic force, or, in realistic terms,
of the Universal.
Scientific experience has long since passed beyond these first
crude conclusions. We no longer speak of occult qualities, of
universals inherent in bodies. Still science is perfectly true —
must be true from the very nature of thinking — to the principle
from which Realism started. We cannot think in any exact
manner of the uniformities of effect presented before us except
by relating them to their producing causes ; we speak, indeed, not
of occult qualities, but of laws, forces, Nature ; but we can never
get beyond that necessity which demands in every thought some
synthesis of cause and effect.
The vice of Realism is now also apparent. It assumed that
these first hasty generalizations of experience were final. It con-
ceived mere words as actual existences, and attempted to explain
from them the phenomena of the Universe. We fall into the
same error if we think, as so many do, of " laws " or " natural
forces" as anything more than generalized expressions or for-
mulas of causality. For herein is the vice of all Realism, ancient
or modern; the arrest of thought upon a mere word or formula;
the refusal to seek further and in a wider range of experience for
that causality of which the given word or formula is but a provi-
sional expression.
Second, Nominalism,. — The Nominalists have been perfectly suc-
cessful in their attack upon Realism — in brushing aside that web
of dialectical subtil ities which crude, confused thought is so apt to
spin. But beyond this purely critical function they have accom-
plished nothing ; their doctrine has only negative merits to com-
mend it.
Everything in Nominalism hinges upon the idea of conceiva-
bility ; and this ambiguous word is always used in the narrow
sense of what can be pictured before the imagination. Berkeley's
whole polemic against general notions revolves around this fallacy.
I can frame, he incessantly argues, the idea of an individual ob-
ject — a man, for instance ; but I cannot form the idea of man in
general ; I must make it of a particular color, size, etc. ; and so
126 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
the generality of the conception vanishes. Hamilton seemed at
times aware of the fallacy, and yet built upon it his Philosophy
of the Conditioned. Spencer has reared a still vaster structure
upon the same fragile basis.
But not even from the most one-sided materialistic standpoint
can this view be vindicated. Even in an external perception, only
the visual elements can be pictured ; what comes through touch,
hearing, or any sense but sight, is absolutely unpicturable. The
]STominalistic argument, then, does not apply even to the whole
sensible world, but only to the, by itself, phantom-world of
sight.
Again : Berkeley argues upon the same ground that we cannot
form the abstract idea of motion apart from the idea of some mov-
ing body. But not even instantaneous photography — much less
the faint picturing power of phantasy — can picture a moving
body ; it can only give the attitude of movement, and from that
the mind infers that the body is moving. According to the test
of picturability, the idea of a moving body is no more possible
than the idea of motion.
A true idea, then, even of an individual body, is essentially un-
picturable. Only a small part of it — the visual element in the
perception — can be dimly portrayed by the imagination : and that
part is merely a sign to call up the complete idea. And yet
Nominalism insists that general ideas? are impossible, because they
are unpicturable.
Dismissing, then, these disputes, we have now to determine the
nature of the classifying process. The key to the problem I find
in the distinction between the denotation and connotation of gen-
eral terms. That distinction has, of course, been recognized by
all logicians, Nominalistic or otherwise; but they have used it
merely as a logical plaything, without any suspicion of its real
value as disclosing the inmost nature of all concepts. Let us see,
now, how the denotation and the connotation of general terms are
related to each other.
First, the denotation is indefinite ; it may include very many
individual objects, or very few, or even none at all, as in the case
of imaginary concepts — centaurs or other fabulous animals, for in-
stance. It is also variable by circumstances ; the number of indi-
viduals included in a class is always changing from time to time ;
The Nature of Thought. 127
it is an undefined multitude in continual flux. On the other
hand, the connotation is always definite and invariable. A concept
may connote but a single attribute, and that, of course, is constant ;
in the case of Natural Kinds an exhaustless series of qualities is
connoted, but still the connotation is fixed and uniform for every
possible member of the class. Secondly, the denotation points to
a multiplicity, a mere aggregate of unknown individuals. The
connotation, on the contrary, points to unity ; this, as a matter of
course, when only a single quality is connoted ; and in the case of
Natural Kinds the different attributes are always conceived as one
set — a co-ordinated system — a unity so definitely fixed by Nature
that from the presence of some of its parts we can infallibly infer
the rest. Thirdly, the denotation is merely potential. No gen-
eral term, by itself, can actually denote any particular object ; it
can only do so by the help of the article or other demonstrative
words, or through its position in the sentence. The connotation,
on the contrary, is actual. The word Man, for instance, in and by
itself does actually connote certain attributes ; it may denote or
point out certain individual objects by the help of other words.
Fourthly, and most important of all, the denotation is always
conditioned by the connotation. Whether a particular object can
be designated by a given general term depends entirely upon what
attributes are connoted by that term. The denotation refers to a
possible collection of resembling objects ; the connotation specifies
that upon which the classification depends. The one points to in-
dividuals grouped ; the other to that which groups them. The
one designates potentially resembling objects ; the other that
which causes their resemblance.
Thus the real nature of the concept is disclosed with surprising
clearness. Its double meaning is a synthesis of two elements re-
lated to each other as cause and effect. The fourth distinction,,
above, directly demonstrates this. The other three corroborate it,
since they show in the denotation the precise characteristics of an
effect — change, multiplicity, and potentiality ; and in the connota-
tion precisely the characteristics of a cause — permanence, unity,
and independence.
Only two brief suggestions can here be given concerning the
application of this doctrine to the logical controversies so long
pending. First, Nominalism is explained as an undue emphasis
128 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
laid upon one of the two elements in every general idea, and an
ignoring, so far as possible, of the other. The Nominalist insists
that a concept is merely a name for a collection of resembling
objects. But it is more than that. It points on the one side to
resembling objects, but on the other to that which constitutes or
causes their resemblance. A collection of resembling objects is,
by itself, an utterly meaningless phrase, since every object in the
universe resembles every other object in some respects and differs
in others. No real meaning emerges until we put together the
two elements, in the synthesis of which every general idea con-
sists.
Second, Concept ualism lays stress upon the causal element in
the concept. It denies the Nominalistic assertion that a concept
is merely a name for a collection of objects — a collection which,
by itself, is but a vague potentiality, having no actual existence
either in nature or in the mind. So far it is plainly right. But
Conceptualism, on its own part, has seen in the concept nothing
but a bundle of attributes, or a relation of resemblance. But this
definition is as vague and unsatisfactory as that of the Nominal-
ist; just as the collection of objects was, by itself, inconceivable,
so a relation of resemblance is inconceivable independently of
the objects related. The universal law of thought governs here
also.
The source of all this confusion and controversy has been the
double meaning of the concept. But we have now put these two
meanings together in the exact and definite relation of cause and
effect : the one determining, the other determined ; each supply-
ing the defects and counteracting the vagueness of the other.
Through this synthesis we preserve the unity and the distinctness
which undoubtedly belong to every general idea, despite its double
meaning.
Possibly this criticism of other speculations has been too con-
cise to be fully intelligible. But at least the general doctrine of
the essay, it seems to me, has been established. Every concept is
shown, through its double import, to be a synthesis of cause and
effect. Every common word — the whole structure of language
— discloses that process in which the very nature of thinking
consists.
The Nature of thought. 129
Chapter IV.
Reasoning.
The question here of the deepest philosophic interest is: How
do we attain to valid universal propositions? And that, in my
opinion, is equivalent to the question, What is Induction %
From many repetitions of an event the expectation naturally
arises that the event will recur under similar circumstances.
Such an expectation is sufficient for the savage and the very igno-
rant; they rarely, if ever, form really universal judgments; they,
indeed, expect things to happen in a certain order, but an order
liable at any moment to interruption. But a really universal
judgment does not merely assert that certaiu phenomena have co-
existed, and probably will again; it asserts the co-existence as
something that must be, as necessitated, and therefore as demand-
ing a cause.
Many repetitions of an experience, then, are not sufficient to
form, by themselves, an induction even of the most empirical
kind. Thought, impelled by what we have seen to be its very
nature, relates this oft-observed co-existence to some cause ; then,
and then only, do we have a really universal judgment affirming
an absolutely invariable co-existence of the phenomena. The
most empirical induction, then, as well as the most scientific, con-
tains something more than a mere observation of particulars.
Both assert causes for the observed co-existences. But empiricism
assumes its causes ; true scientific induction proves them by strict
methods.
It would be absurd to attempt any presentation here of the
many different and complex methods by which scientific induc-
tion transforms an oft-observed coincidence into a law. That by
itself would require a volume. I can only briefly notice what is
not merely the most perfect method, but also the type to which
all the other methods approach. That method is the resolution of
the given universal proposition into a simpler and more general
proposition. In other words, the assumed principle is shown to
depend upon some wider principle. And this process, perhaps, is
repeated : and so on, until we attain a proposition of the utmost
universality and simplicity conceivable. It is at least the dream
XX— 9
130 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
of Science that it will finally attain to one universal proposition
or law, under which all the minor laws of Nature may be sub-
sumed and by it explained.
Three results are insured through this subsumption of the minor
laws under more general ones: 1. A wider interdependence of
phenomena is established. Many minor laws, complex and pro-
portionately narrow, are linked into one of a far vaster range ; this
into others ; and thus the interdependence of all becomes so firm-
ly assured that we are entitled to say of each special law or propo-
sition : This must be so long as the present order of the Universe
continues. 2. Exceptions are got rid of. For instance, the em-
pirical rule obtained by mere observation that arsenic kills is
liable to exceptions ; but these are explained by the principle that
explains the rule. It is so almost everywhere in physical studies.
3. Most important of all, qualitative laws are converted into
quantitative ones. It is the grandest characteristic of Nature —
one to which we owe almost all our real knowledge of her secrets
— that her deepest laws are mathematical. In chemistry espe-
cially the most intricate qualitative differences have almost magic-
ally been resolved into simple equations of quantity. Induction
is thus helped in two ways : First, mathematical reasoning is far
easier and less fallible than that of ordinary logic. Second, uni-
formities of quantity — of weight or distance — can be measured
with the utmost minuteness ; so that a single observation agree-
ing with a mathematical computation is of far more value than a
hundred co-existences of mere quality.
Such, then, seems to me the inductive method, so far as so com-
plex a theme can be outlined upon a page. The formation of a
really universal proposition or law is like the building of an arch.
On the one side is the repeated observation of particulars ; but
this by itself can give but the frail security of a general rule. On
the other side is the reasoning through which the given proposi-
tion or law is connected with wider and simpler laws — a deduc-
tive process by itself most delusive. The one process shows a
uniform co-existence ; the other proves what this co-existence de-
pends upon. Each apart is very weak ; together they strengthen
and support each other. The universal proposition or law is, of
course, the key-stone of the arch. Such a proposition, built upon
either process alone, would be like a stone in the air.
The Nature of Thought. 131
But it will be instantly objected that countless repetitions of
experience, without exception, are sufficient by themselves to es-
tablish universal judgments. Is not the proposition, for instance,
that all men are mortal, sufficiently established by the uniform
experience of mankind? Does it gain any additional certainty by
our knowledge of the conditions upon which the constant co-exist-
ence between humanity and mortality depends? Is it not equally
certain to the savage who knows nothing of the necessitating
causes ? But remember that the savage ascribes it to some cause,
if no other than arbitrary and supernatural agencies. And since
he thus ascribes it to a variable cause, a shade of doubt steals over
his belief in it as a fact. That all men are mortal, was not, for
most people three centuries ago, a universal proposition in the sci-
entific sense of the term. It was merely a general rule with well-
accredited exceptions.
Science, also, has its empirical laws — uniformities of co-existence
for which as yet no cause has been discovered. But no one doubts
that there is a cause. And, until such a cause is demonstrated, no
scientific mind would be surprised to find the empirical law fail-
ing him, even at the most critical juncture.
The question has been often and hopelessly debated among
logicians why one or two repetitions of an observation are often
of more value to the scientist than hundreds under other circum-
stances. That is readily explained by our doctrine of induction
as the union of two processes, each strengthening and supporting
the other. If we have become satisfied, deductively, that a cer-
tain coincidence ought to occur, we are satisfied with a few experi-
mental proofs that it does occur ; especially is this the case, for
reasons given a moment ago, if the coincidence is one capable of
exact quantitative measurement. But so far as the causes of the
coincidence remain unknown, so much must the repetitions of ex-
perience be multiplied ; and after all we have but an empirical law.
The fundamental principle of this essay, then, seems to me fully
demonstrated in regard to that kind of thinking which is at once
the most elaborate, the most splendid in its results, and the most
difficult to understand — Induction. For, plainly, in this dual ac-
tivity, Observation gives us effects, the relations or uniform co-
existences of phenomena; the counter-process deals with the cause
of these co-existences. The law, then, which prevails in the sim-
132 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
plest processes of thought prevails in the highest and most com-
plicated : Induction is a synthesis of cause and effect.
Let us now briefly note the importance of this solution for the
philosophy of science. The philosophic movement has heretofore
been governed by one or the other of two equally one-sided ten-
dencies of thought. On the one part was an empirical tendency
laying all stress upon effects, and ignoring, so far as possible, their
causes, finding in the Universe nothing but co-existences of phe-
nomena ; on the other part, an idealistic tendency with an intense
zeal for causes, Universals, Laws; and a corresponding contempt
for the observation of effects. And, if space permitted, it could
be readily shown how the prevalence of one or the other of these
tendencies brought to an untimely end the scientific movement in
Greece, India, Alexandria, and in the Middle Ages. But modern
science, with a practical, common-sense philosophy of its own, has
always avoided both the empirical and the idealistic error, and
fused together the good in each. Devoted to experience, it has
not confined itself to a merely empirical tabulation of particulars;
seeking unweariedly for the great laws upon which all phenomena
depend, it has distrusted all deduction that outran observation and
experiment. But science has done this instinctively, or rather
through that practical common sense which always shuns ex-
tremes and one-sidedness, even when it does not understand
them. So true is this that no theoretic exposition of the scientific
method has heretofore been made that has proved generally ac-
ceptable to scientific workers. The value of the present exposi-
tion, therefore, is not merely that it answers a much-vexed ques-
tion in logic, but that it presents the scientific method as a virtual
embodiment of the true philosophy — a practical conciliation of the
opposing, one-sided tendencies of speculative thought.
Mathematical Principles: Arithmetic. — How are universal
judgments of this kind attained ? Two things seem needful to
be considered : 1. The starting-point of arithmetic is the forma-
tion of the general idea of units or ones. That idea of the unit is
the most abstract of all concepts — that is, the simplest in its con-
notation and the most universal in its denotation. But, this idea
having been gained, the rest of arithmetic is but a process of count-
ing — that is, of noting the results attained bv variouslv aggregat-
ing objects conceived as units and giving names to these results.
The Nature of Thought. 133
The different arithmetical rules are evidently but abbreviated pro-
cesses of counting.
2. But now comes that problem which, in some shape or other,
has caused so much perplexity in modern logic. This process of
aggregating units and of noting results is a purely empirical one.
How, then, do we attain to that universality and necessity which
belong so pre-eminently to mathematical science? How can the
results of a single process of counting be absolutely true for the
universe and for eternity ? I answer : That by hypothesis we have
excluded all possible cause of difference. The units are invaria-
ble ; the process of counting one by one is invariable ; but, since
all possible causes of a different result are excluded, a different
result is absolutely unthinkable, from the very nature of thinking.
A somewhat similar certainty is obtained through experiment, in
chemistry for instance; but since, then, the exclusion of all possi-
ble causes of difference is not so absolutely assured, the necessity
falls short of mathematical science.
Geometry. — The same solution is applicable to the disputes
about geometrical " intuitions." Take one of the most familiar
questions : How can I obtain, except intuitionally, the axiom that
two straight lines cannot enclose a space? We have here the con-
ception of two straight lines starting from one point ; it is required
to show that, even if prolonged to infinity, they can never touch
again. Bare empirical inspection gives the rule that increase of
prolongation produces or is the cause of increase of separation.
But how do I know that this may not be changed somewhere in
infinity, and the lines begin to approach each other? Simply be-
cause by hypothesis I have excluded all possible causes of change ;
and, therefore, from the very nature of thinking, the effect will
continue unchanged through all eternity. Similarly with the
other axioms. In fact, all geometry — if I may venture to define
it in a single sentence — is but a laborious and infinitely skilful
deduction of certain results that must follow from a continuous
superimposition of equal lines, the absolute necessity of the con-
clusions being assured, because at every minute step we have
excluded all possible causes of difference under infinite circum-
stances.
I utterly reject, then, the idealistic explanation of axiom- as
intuitions forced upon us by some mysterious and arbitrary com-
134 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
pulsion. I also reject all empirical explanations like that so
laboriously argued by Mill — that vision, either actual or imagi-
nary, can explore infinite space and tell us what will happen at
any point therein. Besides its inherent absurdity, this is contra-
dicted by the fact that our belief in an axiom once understood is
given us in a flash — not permitting of any such infinite scrutiny of
space. This instantaneousness of belief is indeed the stronghold
of the intuitional theory, but it is equally well explained by our
own principle. We directly perceive the empirical fact ; the ab-
solute certainty of it is given us by the very nature of thought,
and therefore instantaneously upon the bare condition of thinking
about it. Whatever depends directly upon the nature of think-
ing demands no mediate process and no time.
Intuitions. — Let it be noted that this doctrine does not merely
reduce all the so-called intuitions to one — that of cause and effect.
That, by itself, would indeed be a service of value, since it would
introduce into the intuitional philosophy unity instead of its pres-
ent incoherence. But our doctrine goes much farther than this.
It does not present the relation of cause and effect as something
in which the mind is mysteriously — or intuitionally — compelled to
believe, for that leaves always open the abyss of absolute skepti-
cism — the question whether there may not be some other tran-
scendent kind of intelligence not under this compulsion. We say
simply that to think is to relate cause and effect; and there can be
no hind of thinking that is not thinking.
Chapter V.
Nature.
What light now does the doctrine of this essay throw upon the
principles underlying our present knowledge of Nature ? The
question can be answered here evidently only in the briefest, most
fragmentary way.
Atoms. — Just here we encounter the shadows of a very ancient
controversy. On the one side is the common theory of atoms; on
the other the theory of Boscovich, Faraday, and a few other emi-
nent men of science — that an atom is nothing more than a focus
of converging forces. Let us remember that the work of science
ft ft
is here purely one of explanation. As we have seen at the close
The Nature of Thought. 135
of Chapter II, the absolute certainty is that of Objective Causality ;
the task of reasoned or scientific experience is to explain, so far as
possible, the character of that causality. The common theory af-
firms atoms or substances as at least a part of this causality ; the
other conceives the atom merely as an effect — a resultant of
forces. The latter theory does not seem to me utterly incredible
or as playing such havoc with reality as did the a priori specula-
tions of the old objective idealism ; but still the first, I think,
gives the only satisfactory explanation of all the facts — especially
those of time. We must regard the atom, not merely as an effect
of forces, but as a permanent cause producing upon us in its aggre-
gations the effect or sensation of extension.
Outside of this controversy the tendency of scientific experience
is very clear. Science has left to the atom only its one fixed prop-
erty of extension, its power of occupying space ; to that extent it
is an independent cause exerting a sensible effect. All else is being
resolved into forms of motion. Qualitative relations are being
transformed into quantitative ones, and, instead of occult quali-
ties or potencies inherent in bodies, we have motions produced by
forces.
Forces. — The full significance of this scientific revolution is
being hidden from many minds by two causes. The first cause is
a one-sided, empirical bent of mind, that eclipses the causal element
in all thinking. Comte is the purest type of this tendency. Sci-
ence for such thinkers is but a registry of observations concerning
the successions and co-existences of phenomena. Forces, causes, are
merely products of the irresistible tendency to personify " abstrac-
tions " ; they are pure creations of the intellect, sometimes useful,
perhaps, but utterly fictitious. I need not repeat against this the
now familiar argument founded upon the nature of thought. I
wish here only to note the cumulative force of that argument.
The scientific skeptic of an empirical bent uses this objection to
abolish forces; he will have only moving bodies. But the ideal-
istic skeptic comes with the same objection to annul the idea of
bodies ; he will have nothing but a perceiving mind and its states.
And after him the absolute skeptic, with the same objection an-
nulling mind as well as matter — leaving nothing but percipient
states where nothing is perceived and there is no one to perceive
it. But by the aid of a single argument we ascend step by step
136 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
from this abyss. We regain, first, the idea of a percipient mind ;
then the idea of objective existence ; then the scientific division
between forces and their effects. In other words, the different
forms of skepticism are absolutely interdependent, springing from
a common cause. It is the failure to perceive this connection which
gives to each form its attractiveness to particular orders of mind.
No skeptic — especially the scientific one — wishes to accept all
these forms of denial, and never really does; and still he must, if
he carries his denial to its logical conclusions.
The second cause is a survival of mediaeval realism. Through
this tendency, as we have seen in Chapter III, the word " law "
has come to play so misleading a part in modern thought. How
many people, for instance, conceive of the heavenly motions as
somehow produced by "the law of gravitation"? But this is
scholastic realism — the arrest of thought by a word. A law is but
a mathematical formula for uniform movements. The force or
cause producing these movements — according to a rigid mathe-
matical formula — is still to be sought.
But the most common and the most misleading form of scholas-
tic realism in modern times is, essentially, a vague belief in occult
qualities or mystic forces hidden within bodies, with this differ-
ence, however, from the mediaeval form of the belief. The changes
of a body are no longer conceived as produced by occult qualities
resident within the body itself, but by occult qualities resident in
some other body or bodies. The gravitating movements, for instance,
of a body are conceived as produced not, as in the Middle Ages,
by some occult quality of weight within the body, but by some
occult quality of attraction inherent in other bodies. This mod-
ern form of realism is even more absurd than the ancient. Con-
ceive all that it implies: First, that each atom acts not merely
upon some other atom, but upon all the atoms of the universe;
second, that these infinite activities of the atom go on absolutely
unchanged either through vacant space or through the densest me-
dium, no intervention of other bodies affecting the influence of
gravitation ; third, that each of these infinite activities of the atom
is carried on according to a mathematical law, very simple, indeed,
in its expression, but so infinitely intricate in its execution that the
highest human art could not produce such a movement between
even two bodies — that is, a movement each instant varying inverse-
The Nature of Thought. 137
ly to the square of the distance. What superstition of the Mid-
dle Ages, then, equals this of imagining within an atom an occult
quality capable of producing an infinite number of such activities?
Such, then, are the two great errors now obscuring the clearness
and accuracy of scientific conception. On the one side is the em-
pirical tendency obscuring — so far as possible — all idea of causali-
ty, seeking to look upon effects as produced by nothing. On the
other side is a scholastic realism wherein thought is arrested by
abstract words; or, more definitely, a failure to see that all such
terms as "laws," "forces," etc., are but provisional formulas ex-
pressing the action of Infinite Causality. True science steers be-
tween these rocks. It does not attempt the impossible task of
conceiving motions without forces; nor, on the other hand, does
it look upon its forces and laws as anything more than formulas —
sufficient, indeed, for scientific purposes — but still merely formu-
lating the action of a Causality that lies beyond the narrow bounds
of physical research.
And in this shape physical science hands over the problem of
the physical universe to philosophy : A vast complex of intercon-
nected movements produced by a Cause acting according to mathe-
matical formulas, very simple in idea, but infinitely intricate in
execution.
Antecedent and Consequent. — Everything here starts from
Hume's epoch-making paradox resolving all causation into mere
uniform sequence between antecedent and consequent. Paradoxi-
cal and false as Hume's statement is, it yet contains an element of
deep truth, endorsed by science and fully recognized by the doc-
trine of this essay.
Speaking with scientific exactitude, no two physical phenomena
stand to each other as cause and effect, but only as two terms in a
fixed series — as antecedent and consequent in a vast and intricate
process of effectuation. Between the antecedent and consequent,
obscure processes intervene, some of which we see clearly enough
to make us suspect the existence of many more quite insensible to
us. Even so seemingly simple an act as sensation we know to be
wonderfully complex — determined not only by the external stimuli
and subtle conditions of our own organism, but by the influences
of other concurrent sensations, and even by inferences of reason.
So everywhere we find not a cause, but a process — a dimly dis-
138 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
cerned series of effects, each term of which is interconnected with
the rest.
The simplest of all such processes is that of motion imparted
through mechanical impact. But even here the first body is but the
medium of transmission ; what it received, it imparts ; and in this
transmission the quantity of motion is exactly conserved without
loss or gain. Only in a crude sense can the first body be called
the cause of motion in the second ; both are but terms in a never-
ending series of movements. And so in all physical relations, the
antecedent is but the medium through which motion is passed
on to the next term in the series.
That is the truth in Hume's paradox. The false and paradoxi-
cal part arose from assuming that the doctrine of causation was
therebv annulled. The true cause is not the invariable antece-
dent to a consequent, but that which causes their uniform and inva-
riable connection. In the progress of induction, Causality does
not vanish ; we merely throw off our first crude conceptions of it.
Its first aspect of multiplicity and variation gives way to an
aspect of unity and permanence. All physical phenomena finally
present themselves as a vast and infinitely intricate system of
effects, related to a cause producing the fixed and absolute order
of the parts.
Two cautions should be noted. First, the above is qualified by
what was said at the beginning of the chapter concerning atoms.
If the atom is to be regarded not merely as an effect of force, but
as occupying a fixed extent of space, it is to that extent a true
cause. Secondly, this doctrine involves no war against the usages
of common language. We properly enough speak of an ante-
cedent and a consequent, in a causally connected series, as cause
and effect. Still no argumentation can break down the truth in
Hume's doctrine. One physical event is not the cause, but the
antecedent of another ; and, the better we remember this, the
clearer and truer will be our view of the physical universe.
Chapter VI.
The Conscious Cause.
Physical existence, then, is a vast series of interconnected
effects, the more vivid terms in which appear as antecedents and
The Nature of Thought. J 39
consequents. Many, charmed by this induction, have endeavored
to extend it also over the tield of mental existence. Mental states,
they argue, are nothing more than antecedents and consequents
connected in a fixed, although dimly discerned, order. That evi-
dently is to contradict the direct testimony of self-consciousness
which exists, as we have seen, solely to affirm Self as the produc-
ing and controlling cause of its own activities. But those who
have clung to this testimony of consciousness have done very
little to weaken the array of argument upon the other side;
they have been generally inclined to admit that the witness of self-
consciousness and the inductions ot experience directly contradict
each other. Philosophy has failed to solve this seeming contradic-
tion. And to this failure, more than to anything else, is probably
due its present disgrace.
It may seem an absurd audacity to attempt to answer within
these limits a host of arguments that have been regarded as virtu-
ally unanswerable even by most _ of those who have denied their
conclusions. But the whole previous discussion is a preparation
for this task. From our present point of view this seeming con-
tradiction between self-consciousness and reason is readily solved.
It seems to rest mainly upon four fallacies.
First, The Fallacy of Inconceivability . — " That the mind,"
says Sir William Hamilton, " should produce or originate its own
states is inconceivable ; and even to conceive the possibility of
this inconceivable act we must suppose some cause by which the
man is determined to exert it." But why inconceivable ? Why
cannot the mind rest in the conviction that itself has produced its
own acts without supposing some cause for its own causality, and
so on in infinite regress ? The ground of the fallacy seems to be
a vague generalization that reason demands a cause for every-
thing. But the doctrine of this essay has dispelled that illusion.
The office, nay, the very nature, of thought is to relate cause and
effect. Looking upon the sum-total of existence, it asks what is
cause and what is effect. Having discovered certain phenomena
to be effects — mostly through the invariable uniformity of their
sequences — it is entirely content to relate those effects to their
cause. Having discovered a cause, it is equally content to relate
that cause to its effects. In the physical field we indeed seek for
the causes of what are called causes, for we have found them not
140 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
to be real causes, but merely antecedents — terms in a series of con-
nected effects. But to demand a cause for a true cause is to con-
tradict the very nature of thought. It is the insanity of reason.
Jonathan Edwards was here more acute than his successors.
He does not pronounce it utterly inconceivable that the Self
should be the cause of its own volitions. But he adds that this
may explain why the soul acts at all, but not why it acts in a par-
ticular manner. It is inconceivable to him " that the same cause
in the same circumstances should produce different effects at differ-
ent times." But this inconceivability belongs to the physical
field ; it is mere bias when carried over into the mental. It is
indeed inconceivable that one physical antecedent under the same
circumstances should be followed indifferently by one or the other
of two consequents; that a billiard-ball, for instance, should, un-
der the same circumstances, impart a variable quantity of motion
to another ball. Why ? Because, as we have seen in the pre-
vious chapter, the billiard-ball is only nominally a cause ; it
merely imparts what it has received ; it is simply a medium into
which a fixed quantity of motion is received and transmitted or
else distributed among its own parts. But to carry this over into
the mental field is to beg the whole question. It is to take for
granted the very thing to be proved : that the conscious Self is not
a true cause, but simply an effect of something beyond itself — a
mere medium through which impulses pass as from one billiard-
ball to another. And this assumption is made in blank contradic-
tion of a self -consciousness testifying to all men and always that
the Self is the cause of its own mental states.
Designedly I have placed this fallacy of inconceivability at the
head of the list. It is the first, the most insidious, the one to
which the necessitarian always retreats in every stress of argu-
ment. No progress whatsoever can be made in the discussion un-
less we understand the origin of this fallacy. It is a bias brought
over from physical studies. Reason does not demand a cause for
a cause, and so on in infinite regress. Nor does it demand that a
cause under the same external conditions should always act in the
same manner. That necessity does indeed belong to all physical
antecedents, as we have inductively learned. But to impose it,
without proof, upon our mental acts, is an absolute begging of
the question.
The Nature of Thought. Ill
Second, The Fallacy of Motives. — The necessitarian argument
here is well known; we need only the answer, and to gain that
answer we must thoroughly comprehend what a motive really is.
A motive is an anticipation of pain or pleasure, forming an induce-
ment to act. Whatever thus presents itself as pain or pleasure —
even in the most ideal and distant anticipations of eternity — is a
motive. Nor can it be denied that in the most of our actions we
are governed — almost mechanically determined — by these motives.
Since our mental life is carried on in a physical environment, we
are for the most part creatures of habit and inclination. To that
extent we act as other animals ; we are moved by the strongest
impulse, like billiard-balls.
But along with this ordinary action there always goes the testi-
mony of self consciousness testifying to the Self as cause. Thus,
I know that I have the power of controlling instead of being con-
trolled. I can, if necessary, push entirely aside all considerations
of pain or pleasure, even the most ideal and remote. In other
words, I have the power of acting solely according to my knowl-
edge of what ought to he done. This is freedom : the Self deter-
mining its own activities according to its knowledge of right and
wrong.
But this knowledge, it will be objected, is the antecedent condi-
tioning the act. No ! I answer, evidently not, for in every
moral action this knowledge is always present, whether I act ac-
cording to it or not.
But, again urges the fatalist, I do not act according to this
knowledge unless I wish or desire to ; the wish or desire is the
antecedent. (See Mill's " Examination of Hamilton's Philosophy,"
ii, 285, and " Logic," 521.) But this is merely a verbal artifice or
bewilderment. A wish or a desire is an inchoate volition ; it
refers to certain conditions of constraint or inability. But in this
case I know that I have the power, at least, to will according to
my knowledge of right and wrong. To say, then, that I have not
the power to will unless I wish to, is pure nonsense. It is merely
to say that I have not the power to will unless I will.
I do not mean that these verbal artifices are designed. They
are rather the spontaneous results of that feeling of inconceivability
already described. The necessitarian carries over such a bias
from the physical field that he can hardly help thinking that there
142 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
must he some antecedent determining every activity even of a
free cause. Hence he bewilders himself with a verbal artifice, in
which the volition itself, under a different name, is made to play
the role of antecedent to itself.
Third, The Fallacy of Spontaneity. — u It is impossible," says
Hamilton, " to see how a cause undetermined by any motive can
be a rational, moral, or accountable cause." "A motiveless act is,
morally and rationally, worthless."
That proceeds from the assumption that there is no middle
ground between action controlled by motives of pleasure or pain
and action under the influence of unconscious spontaneity. But
we have seen that there is such a middle ground, and that very
much higher, morally, than either of them. The perfect type of
moral freedom is in an act not done from considerations of pain
or pleasure, or through unconscious spontaneity, but done solely
because we knew that it ought to be done.
But is there, then, no freedom in a wrong act ? Yes, to the ex-
tent that every such act is accompanied by a knowledge of what
ought to be done and a consciousness of power to act according to
that knowledge.
Fourth, The Fallacy of Prediction. — " The statistics of crime,"
asserts Mill, somewhat too vigorously, " show results that are as
uniform, and may be as accurately foretold, as in any physical in-
quiries in which the effect depends upon a multiplicity of causes."
I answer that these tables of crime are statistics of what does very
largely depend upon physical causes or antecedents. The criminal
classes are mostly composed of those in whom, through such pure-
ly physical influences as heredity and environment, the power of
free moral activity has been reduced nearly to zero. True, ex-
cept in cases of criminal insanity, the consciousness of this power
is always present. But it is a power so rarely exercised as to form
but a slight factor in the statistics of crime.
A similar answer applies to the argument that we can often
roughly predict a man's conduct from our knowledge of his char-
acter or moral habits. Habit is truly said to be a second nature,
often almost as fixed and rigid as a physical nature. It is not
strange, then, that we can often predict conduct. But let us re-
member that distinction, the overlooking of which has heretofore
so confused the question of moral freedom. Although our con-
The Nature of Thought. 143
duct is so generally governed by predispositions and other motivi-
ties acting in a purely mechanical way, still we are always con-
scious of a power to break loose from this constraint and to act
solely from our knowledge of what ought to be done. That we so
rarely exercise this power is a very poor reason for denying that
we possess it.
These fallacies cleared away, the testimony of consciousness
stands forth, evident and absolutely unimpeachable. Self-con-
sciousness exists solely to affirm the self as cause. And, since a
cause, therefore free.
The Infinite Cause. — That the First Cause of all things is free
is now evident. For, if it were not free, it would be merely an
effect for which thought, from its very nature, would still demand
a cause. But the constant and reasoned experience of mankind
has shown that this causality acts always according to fixed laws
of mathematical exactitude. Therefore the Cause of all things is
consciously intelligent, for it is- demonstratively impossible for
anything to && freely according to a fixed law without knowing
the law according to which it acts.
The clearness of this demonstration may be obscured by a pre-
possession gained in the study of human life. We see the caprice
and fickleness of human actions ; we believe man to be free ; and
so we naturally come to confound the idea of freedom with that
of mere spontaneity acting without reason, arbitrarily and at ran-
dom. But the explanations of the present chapter ought to dis-
pel that illusion. The appearance of chaos and arbitrariness in
human actions is due to the imperfect and partial character of our
freedom. In ordinary human life we are conscious of a free pow-
er, but rarely use it ; our conduct is, for the most part, the product
of complicated impulses, made still more complicated and much
darker by this overshadowing sense of a freedom so rarely used.
But perfect freedom would not have this appearance of arbitrari-
ness, of mere blind unreasoning spontaneity. It would consist, as
we have seen, in always acting according to a law of right, self-
imposed indeed, but otherwise as rigid as the law of the heavenly
movements. In other words, the essence of freedom is to act ac-
cording to a self-imposed law. Therefore, the absolute order of
the universe is necessarily involved in the perfect freedom and in-
finite intelligence of its Cause.
144 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
Final Causes. — While the doctrine of final causes has been and
still is very useful in the practical culture of the religious emo-
tions, its philosophic value is extremely limited. And that
chiefly for two reasons : 1. The doctrine is wholly based upon
reasoning from analogy — a reasoning logically defective and al-
ways perilous, especially when applied to subjects so disparate as
the finite and the infinite. We have just seen how analogies from
human life have served, perhaps more than anything else, to ob-
scure the conception of Infinite Freedom as the cause of the abso-
lute order of the universe. 2. It intensifies the wretched rivalry
of Science and Religion. The aim of science is to demonstrate
the reign of law, to evolve all phenomena from natural processes —
exceedingly simple in idea although infinitely intricate in execu-
tion. To science, therefore, the doctrine of final causes is an un-
welcome intrusion ; it seems an attempt to substitute the theo-
logical method of analogy for the method of induction. Above
all, it seems an insidious attempt to build a belief upon the failure
rather than upon the successes of science.
But here is a principle that fully guarantees the conclusions
toward which the doctrine of final causes has dubiously struggled.
It is at the same time a principle in entire harmony with the spirit
and expectations of science. The more that science succeeds in
explaining the universe as a process carried on according to in-
variable law, the more perfect the demonstration of a First Cause
absolute in freedom and infinite in intelligence.
Chapter VII.
Comparative Philosophy .
We have thus concluded our survey. Every process of thought
from the lowest to the highest — every simple perception, or con-
cept, or judgment, or act of reasoning, or so-called intuition — has
been shown to be essentially a relating, in a more or less compli-
cated form, of cause and effect. Thus our work might seem to
be virtually ended. But it can be still further perfected by the
aid of the historic method — that is, by a comparison of the differ-
ent philosophic systems that have prevailed in the past.
The grand division of philosophic systems, as sensationalistic or
idealistic, is well known. And we have already shown how this
The Nature of Thought. 145
division grounds itself upon the relative stress put upon one or
the other of the two antithetical elements of all thought, cause or
effect. This difference of stress explains the philosophies of the
past, their relative merits and defects, their constant conflicts and
common failure.
The chief service of the sensationalistic philosophy has been its
steady affirmation of experience as the sole source of knowledge.
Its well-taught lesson to the world has been that we must begin
with the study of effects ; that all a priori generalization of causes
is worse than useless. But, beyond this contribution to the scien-
tific method, sensationalism has accomplished nothing. Lacking
an insight into the nature of thought, it has seen in experience
nothing but an automatic registry of sensations. Its sole prin-
ciple of association cannot interpret anything beyond the psychol-
ogy, so to speak, of animals ; for, undoubtedly, the sensations of
the animals are thus linked according to the laws of Hartley,
Mill, and Bain. But only when these sensations are related as
effects to these causes does real thought begin. Failing to grasp
this distinction, sensationalism has interpreted the cerebration of
the animal, but not the processes of real thinking.
The chief vice of idealism, on the other hand, has been its meth-
od — that of intuition and a priori generalization. Experience —
not yet understood as the relating of all phenomena in a synthesis
of cause and effect — seemed to give no guarantee for the most
universal and necessary beliefs of mankind. Thus the idealist was
driven to invent the intuitional method, a mysterious process by
which the mind gained immediate and instinctive knowledge of
what lay beyond experience. That method we now know to be
an illusion. It contradicts the fundamental law that all knowl-
edge is mediate, no effects being known save as they are related
to causes, and no causes save through their effects. It renders im-
possible the unity which philosophy exists to seek. Once admit
a source of knowledge beyond experience, and you have a mere
chaos of instinctive beliefs to be multiplied at pleasure.
But, despite its method, idealism has been of the greatest service
to human thought. It provided, at least, a temporary basis for
the fundamental truths of religion, morality, art, and even mathe-
matical science — truths which lie enfolded in the very nature of
experience, but for which experience, imperfectly understood,
XX— 10
146 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
seemed to furnish no assurance. To this pass, then, philosophy
was driven. On the one side was a sensation alistic school stand-
ing by the true method, but one imperfectly understood, and there-
fore useless for the attainment of the highest truths. On the other,
an idealistic school anticipating truth, but by a false method, or,
more strictly, without any method at all. The explanation is the
one-sidedness of both systems ; their defects were mutually com-
plementary, because each clung to an element in the dual process
of thought which the other tended to ignore.
So far our comparison of philosophic systems has been merely
in outline. But with Kant a great revolution began, that we
must consider more in detail.
What was Kant's real contribution to philosophy ? That ques-
tion has been discussed for nearly a century ; many different answers
have been given, and still the question does not seem to be settled.
This indefinableness of the movement seems to hint at a mere fer-
ment of opinion, the natural outcome of a revolutionary age. But
that the movement was something more than ferment is proved by
its persistence ; even now many are demanding that philosophy,
after its long wanderings, should " go back to Kant." What, then,
is the secret of this influence, so great and yet so difficult to define?
I answer that Kant was the first to propound the true problem of
philosophy. That problem is : The Nature of Thought.
Before Kant, philosophy had been chiefly an attempt to classify
the products of thinking. But evidently all such classification
could be only arbitrary and subject to endless disputes ; it was a
mere culling from the maze of mental phenomena of what suited
a particular system, sensationalistic or idealistic. Kant saw that,
before we could classify to any purpose such complex products as
those of thought, we must come to 6ome understanding of the pro-
cess which produces the products. Let me first know, for instance,
what conscious experience is ; after that I can better decide whether
a given idea is to be classed under products of experience or of some
mystic a priori power of intuition. 1 Kant, then, propounded the
supreme question of philosophy; somewhat obscurely, indeed, but
1 Prof. Adamson, the ablest English interpreter of German philosophy, in his book
upon Fiehte, reaches precisely the same conclusion as that here outlined concerning the
nature of Kant's real contribution to philosophy. This testimony is the more notable,
since Prof. Adamson has no theory to support.
The Nature of Thought. 147
still clearly enough to make it henceforth the focus of all wise
speculative research. That was honor enough for one man. It
was not given him to answer the question he had propounded. It
was impossible for him to work himself clear all at once from the
bewilderment and prepossessions of the old methods.
Besides, the specially mathematical bent of Kant's genius led
him to a one-sided view of the problem. With great sagacity
Hume had converged his whole skeptical attack upon the concep-
tion of causality, foreseeing that by this philosophy was to stand or
fall. But Kant expressly described this as a blunder on the part
of Hume ; and he himself started off into what has proved an in-
terminable and entirely profitless discussion of the alleged mathe-
matical a 'priorities. By not keeping to Hume's lead, he lost the
key to the philosophic problem. Hence that air of vagueness and
paradox in the " Critique" ; the amazing complexity of its details,
the imperfect juncture and even-contradiction of its parts, the lack
of a unifying principle, which have made it so much of a riddle to
modern thought.
Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel. — It is the fashion now to look some-
what disdainfully upon this great triumvirate, and even to doubt
whether they were, in any good sense, continuators of Kant. But
very plainly they were. They not only kept to Kant's problem,
but they carried it nearer to a solution than he had been able to
do. They brought to the light one element, at least, of the so-
lution ; and an element that has been of the greatest service to
modern thought.
No one can look very closely into the workings of thought
without being more or less impressed by the aspect of dualism
everywhere presented. Kant not only recognized this in his fun-
damental distinctions between theoretic and practical reason, the
matter and form of thought, etc., but also in his doctrine of the
categories gives an express hint of a possible synthesis of these
antithetical elements. He notes that "the third category of each
class results from a combination of the first and second categories
of the same class"; and expressly calls this fact "a challenge to
reflection."
Fichte took up this challenge. His whole survey of conscious-
ness is guided by the idea that the process of thinking is a synthe-
sis between two antithetical elements. But Fichte did not ex-
148 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
tend his survey much beyond the perceptive states of thinking.
Hegel, following Schelling, found this same aspect of dualism in
the higher forms of thought — concepts and propositions ; and he
attempted to construct out of it a law governing the whole uni-
verse of phenomena. The service thus rendered to modern devel-
opment it is mere bigotry to ignore. It has given birth to the
most characteristic trait of the nineteenth century — the habit ot
seeking for the element of truth contained in each of two conflict-
ing systems of thought. It has taught us to see in art, theology,
language, and philosophy an ever-unfolding movement, always
oscillating from one extreme to the other, but still always ap-
proaching nearer to final truth ; in a word, it has substituted the
historic for the dogmatic method in all studies pertaining to the
human mind. Thanks to the Post-Kantian philosophy of Ger-
many, there are no longer any systems of pure idealism or pure
materialism, but a gradual coalescence of the two tendencies,
very confused at present, but still giving promise of future har-
mony.
But the Post-Kantian philosophy did not get beyond a merely
empirical discovery that thought was a synthesis of thesis and anti-
thesis. It entirely failed to grasp the law of this synthesis. Fichte
started from the purely formal and — as we have seen in Chapter
I — misleading antithesis between subject and object ; and his at-
tempt to deduce all mental processes from this principle led
through a wonderful maze of subtilities, only to paradox at last.
His successors clung to the same starting-point, and thus gained
a conception of the universe not essentially different from that of
Spinoza. Hegel, indeed, used to boast that he had replaced the
Spinozistic idea of the absolute Substance by that of Spirit or sub-
ject ; but in reality the difference is not so great as he supposed.
Both the category of substance and that of subject are merely de-
rivative; substance is but one way of conceiving the cause of cer-
tain effects ; the subject is that which is conscious of itself as the
cause of its mental states. Only when we rise from these deriva-
tive categories to one that includes them both and much more be-
sides — the primitive all-embracing category of cause and effect —
do we gain a genuine theism.
Kant claimed for himself in philosophy the role of Copernicus
in astronomy, and with right. By propounding the true philo-
The Nature of Thought. 149
sophic problem lie reversed the entire order of speculation, and
taught men to seek in the nature of human consciousness for the
key to all the ancient controversies. Not content with this, how-
ever, Kant also hinted at a possible parallel between his own
labors and those of Newton. But evidently neither he nor his
continuators reached that high place; a vast array of logical sub-
tilities, a mere construction of scholastic refinements, always la-
bored and sometimes confused and contradictory, is something
very different from the simplicity and clearness of a Newtonian
induction. And yet philosophy, which is but the final induction
— the grasping of all the results of experience under one unifying
principle — ought, above all else, to be simple and clear.
The Philosophy of Common Sense. — This philosophy, so highly
esteemed in Scotland and England, is to a certain extent justified
from our present point of view. The great systems of specula-
tion we have found to be the products of a one-sided tendency ;
they have put too exclusive an emphasis upon one or the other of
the two antithetical elements of thought. There is a kind of theo-
retic insanity about them ; method, but not balance. Common
sense, on the contrary, is mental health ; it is the natural equi-
poise which the mind maintains when not disturbed by specula-
tive extravagance. Therefore, the conclusions of a perfect phi-
losophy ought to be in harmony with those of common sense. But
that is something very different from saying that philosophy is
but a somewhat pretentious form of common sense — a mere regis-
try of truths for which there is no ground of assurance save the
general belief of mankind. Common sense has, in fact, no phi-
losophy. It has only certain roughly balanced anticipations of the
truth, with which the reasoned conclusions of philosophy ought,
for the most part, to coincide.
Agnosticism. — Even in this there is an element of deep truth.
One of the most fundamental principles of this essay has been that
neither of the two antithetical elements of thought is, by itself, an
object of true knowledge. Either cause or effect without its cor-
relate is unknowable. Thus, in the simplest act of external per-
ception, we know the cause — the object — only through its effects ;
conversely, the effect — the sensation — is a process for the most
part inscrutable, going on in the deepest darkness. A clear, dis-
tinct object of knowledge only emerges from a synthesis of these
150 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
two elements, each unknowable by itself. And so everywhere.
That, in fact, is the true doctrine of the relativity of knowledge ;
nothing known except relatively to something else — except in the
relation of cause and effect.
The fatal error of agnosticism consists in seeing only one half
of this truth. From Kant downward it has always assumed that
phenomena — effects by themselves — -were fully known ; but that
causes — especially the conscious self and the Infinite Cause — lay
wholly beyond the limits of knowledge. We have followed this
assertion through all the processes of thought, and we now know
it to be altogether arbitrary and one-sided. The true law of nes-
cience is wider but less baleful than this. The Infinite Cause, the
whole universe of effects — each of these is equally unknowable
out of relation to the other. But human progress has always con-
sisted, and ever will consist, in an advancing knowledge of both,
through their mutual relation.
CRITIQUE OF KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY. 1
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF PROF. DR. KUNO FISCHER, BY W. S. HOUGH.
Chapter I.
The Kantian Philosophy as Doctrine of Knowledge.
In order to undertake a criticism of the Kantian philosophy, it
will be necessary, first of all, to review briefly its fundamental
principles, and allow every distorted or false view which would
destroy the conception of the system to give place to the accu-
rate and true one. For one can only justly criticise what one has
1 It should perhaps be mentioned that this " Critique," as well as being published
separately under the above title (" Kritik der Kantischen Philosophic," Munich, Fr.
Bassermann, 1883), also appears in Vol. V of Kuno Fischer's " Geschichte der neuern
Philosophic," as an " Introduction to the History of Post-Kantian Philosophy," it being
a brief resume of the two preceding expository volumes on Kant, together with the
author's criticism of the Kantian doctrines. It is, then, strictly speaking, a Critical
Exposition. In quoting from Kant, Prof. Fischer has made use of Hartenstein's jirst
edition. (Leipzig, Leop. Voss, 1838.) — Tr.
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 151
rightly understood. And from a critical knowledge of the sys-
tem there follows the establishment of those new problems con-
tained in it which determine the course of the development of
post-Kantian philosophy. We shall proceed, therefore, from the
characterization of the Kantian doctrines to their criticism, and
then deduce the problems which have led to their transformation
and development.
The Kantian philosophy in its entirety is seen to unite in itself,
if we keep the main point in view, three fundamental features,
which must be rightly conceived and rightly combined if we are
to appreciate the full peculiarity of the nature of this philosophy
which swayed the last century : they are Doctrine of Knowledge,
Doctrine of Freedom, and Doctrine of Development. Its new
doctrine of knowledge conditions its new doctrine of freedom, and
both condition its new doctrine of development. These themes
are arranged in the order in which they follow one another in the
course of the critical investigation.
The first problem, and that which determines all the fundamen-
tal questions of the Kantian inquiry, is concerned with the origin
of human knowledge. There is no simpler expression with which
to designate Kant's ground-problem, and at the same time the cri-
terion which guided him in its solution, and which furnishes us
the best means of keeping our bearings in reference to the nature
and method of his system. That this problem was never fairly
recognized, not to say solved, before Kant, we have shown suffi-
ciently in detail in our characterization of the epoch of Critical
philosophy and the pre-Kantian standpoints to be able to refer
the reader to that earlier discussion. 1
I. THE DOCTRINE OF PHENOMENA. TRANSCENDENTAL IDEALISM.
1. The Origin of Phenomena.
If light is to be thrown upon the origin of human knowledge,
those conditions must be investigated which precede it, which,
consequently, must be contained in the faculties of our intellectual
nature, but which are not yet knowledge itself. The philosophers
before Kant, some with full intention, others with complete, self-
deception, presupposed these conditions, and thus treated the ex-
1 Vid. Fischer : " Geschichte der neuern Philosophic," vol. iii, pp. 3-38.
152 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
planation of human knowledge dogmatically. They consequently
failed of the solution, and in the very matter of importance at-
tained nothing. Hence the problem had to be reformed, and so
taken that the factors or conditions of knowledge were sought by
a new investigation of human reason along that path which Kant
called critical or transcendental. Knowledge is unexplained as
long as its origin remains obscure. This obvious proposition is
valid not only in reference to knowledge, but also in reference to
every object of knowledge ; for to know an object means as much
as to understand its origination. Hence there can be no talk about
a knowledge of objects as long as their origin remains unknown.
The inquiry concerning the origin of human knowledge necessa-
rily coincides, therefore, with that concerning the origin of our
objects of knowledge, or of things knowable to us. All our objects
of knowledge are, and must be, phenomena, which we represent to
ourselves in thought ; nor does it here come immediately at all
into question whether the nature of things reveals itself in phe-
nomena adequately or inadequately, or not at all. The inquiry
concerning the origin of our objects of knowledge is accordingly
identical with that concerning the origin of phenomena, or of the
phenomenal world — i. e., that body of phenomena which appear to
the human reason as such, or which we all conceive and experi-
ence in a common way. The content of these phenomena is our
world of sense. That we have and conceive such a common world
of sense may be regarded as an established and uncontroverted
fact ; and this common world would be impossible if we were not
compelled to conceive things in a common manner, or according
to the same laws. The inquiry concerning the origin of human
knowledge is thus seen, as soon as it is taken up seriously and
thoroughly, to involve the inquiry concerning the origin of the
sense-world, or of that idea of the world common to us all. The
problem of knowledge cannot be reformed, and the conditions
involved in its process investigated, without stating the question
in the manner just developed. Just as we can rightly contem-
plate the world of stars only after we have won that point of view
from which the situation and motion of our own earth become
apparent, so we can rightly apprehend and estimate the world of
sense only when we have attained an insight into the standpoint
and activity of our knowing reason. The Critical or Transcend-
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 153
ental point of view in philosophy corresponds to the Copernican
in astronomy.
If we ourselves create an object, its origination is as intelligible
to us as our own activity, and the object itself is consequently com-
pletely knowable. If, on the other hand, there is that contained
in the object which has and retains the character of something
given, something which we cannot produce, or which cannot be
reduced to our creative activity, then our knowledge will come
at this point upon an impenetrable barrier. The objects of our
knowledge are, therefore, just as far completely knowable as they
are our products — i. e., just as far as we are capable of creating
them and of making the process of this creation clear to our con-
sciousness ; only so far does the knowableness of things extend.
Accordingly, the inquiry concerning the origin of our knowledge
and its objects, the sum-total of which constitutes our common
world of sense, is more exactly to be taken, so that under the term
" origin " shall be understood creation by the factors or capacities
of our reason. If our sense-world is the product of our reason, it
is also the completely intelligible object of our reason; it is this
object only as far as it is this product. "For one thoroughly
comprehends only what one can himself completely produce ac-
cording to notions." '
2. The Ideality of Phenomena.
Now, Kant has shown that there is an element in all our phe-
nomena which has and retains the character of something given —
namely, our impressions or sensations. These, however, as such,
are not yet objects or phenomena, but only the material out of
which objects and phenomena arise in accordance with the laws
of our thought, or through the form-giving power of our percep-
tion and understanding. Thus the sense-world originates from the
material of our impressions, which are so moulded and combined,
in accordance with the necessary and involuntarily fulfilled laws
of our thought, that we all conceive the same natural order of
things. The laws of thought are the ground-forms of perception
and understanding — space, time, and the categories. The invol-
untary or unconscious fulfilment of these laws takes place through
1 Kant : " Kritik der Urtheilskraft," ^ 68. (" Werke," vol. vi, p. 258.) Cf. Fischer :
" Geschichte der neuern Philosophie," vol. iv, p. 483.
154 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
the imagination, while the knowledge of them is a matter of criti-
cal inquiry.
Since the laws of thought make phenomena and experience,
they must precede the latter, and are, therefore, not given empiric-
ally and a posteriori, but a priori, or transcendentally ; they are
the forms, the sensations, on the contrary, the stuff or matter of
all phenomena. This matter is received by our reason ; it is given
to it, not produced by it ; therefore it is not a priori, but a poste-
riori. Yet one may not say that our impressions are given a
ptosteriori or empirically. This inexact and incorrect expression
utterly confounds the Kantian doctrine. What we draw from
experience, or what is given by experience — this is a posteriori or
empirical. Kant expressly teaches : " That which is borrowed
merely from experience is known only a posteriori or empiric-
ally." ' Now, it appears that since impressions constitute the
matter of all phenomena and experience, they belong to the con-
ditions and elements of experience, hence are contained in it, but
not produced by it ; they do not result from experience, but expe-
rience from them. That is empirical which is given to us through
experience. Now, sensations are the material of experience, and
are, therefore, given for it, not produced by it. Kant explicitly
says : " Perception which is related to an object through sensa-
tion is empirical^ a An empirical object presupposes sensation.
Although this relation is self-evident, it is still very necessary to
enforce a correct conception of it, since one is countless times
obliged to read : Kant taught that the form of our knowledge is
given a priori, the matter a posteriori or empirically. If so, Kant
must have contradictorily taught that the matter for experience
is given by experience ! Then he has not explained experience,
but, like his predecessors, presupposed it ; then the ground of sen-
sations must be sought in experience; then the thing-in-itself lies
hidden in phenomena; then the Kantian philosophy is completely
inverted and stands head downward.
Since our sense-world consists only in phenomena, it is through-
out phenomenal. Since the matter of all phenomena consists in
sensations, their form in perceptions and notions, the elements of
the same are through and through subjective ; their material and
1 Kant: "Kritik der reinen Vernunft." Introd., Ill, note. (" Werke," vol. ii, p. 39.)
2 Id., " Transcd. ^Esth.," T[ 1 (p. 59, et seq.).
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 155
formal constituents are contained in our knowing reason, and have
the character of ideas ' (the word is taken in the broadest sense).
Hence all our phenomena are ideas ; they consist in being men-
tally represented, and are throughout ideal. This doctrine of the
ideality of all phenomena, and of their origination from our sense-
states and forms of reason, is called Transcendental Idealism.
All phenomena are in time ; the external are also in space. If
they contained anything which was independent of our ideas, and
which was nevertheless in space and time, the latter could not be
the ground-forms of our ideas, hence not pure perceptions. Since,
now, space and time are pure perceptions and nothing real in
themselves, everything in space and time must be through and
through ideal. The being of all objects in space and time consists
in their being mentally represented. From the Kantian doctrine
of space and time there follows, therefore, the doctrine of the
ideality of all phenomena : the " Transcendental ^Esthetic " founds
that transcendental idealism which characterizes Kant's entire doc-
trine of knowledge.
Because space and time are the forms of perception of our rea-
son, the pure space-and-time-magnitudes, and hence — since there
are no other magnitudes — pure magnitudes in general, are the
products of the perceptive or constructive activity of our reason,
and as such they are completely knowable. The doctrine of mag-
nitudes or pure mathematics has, therefore, before all other theo-
retical sciences, the character of a perfectly evident and purely
rational knowledge. It was this fact which led Kant to declare
" that in each of the natural sciences precisely as much exact sci-
ence can be found as there is mathematics." 2
1 The German here is Vor&tellung. The rendering given (idea) is retained in all simi-
lar references throughout, as being, perhaps, on the whole, the most satisfactory. The
verbal noun Vorstellen, as in " Gesetze unseres Vorstellens," and like expressions, is uniformly
rendered "thought." In such connections the word is used by Prof. Fischer as com-
prehending perception and understanding — i. e., as designating all finite thought, or all
thought that is conditioned by space and time, and thus, from the critical point of view,
as being co-extensive with theoretical, or scientific, or knowing reason. The verb itself,
vorzustellen, has been usually rendered "to conceive," or "mentally represent." The
reader will please carefully distinguish idea (Vorstellung) from idea (Idee), which occurs
later in the discussion. — Tr. <
2 Kant : " Metaphysische Anf angsgriinde der Naturwissenschaft. Preface." (" Werke,"
vol. viii, p. 444.)
156 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
A refutation of the " Transcendental ^Esthetic" would affect the
whole doctrine of transcendental idealism, and thereby the entire
basis and character of the Kantian doctrine of knowledge, and the
Critical philosophy in general. But a false interpretation is no
refutation. We have now to concern ourselves with views which
mistake the sense of the Kantian doctrine, and thus attack it with
arguments which necessarily prove ineffectual.
II. OBJECTIONS TO THE "TRANSCENDENTAL ^ESTHETIC."
To the Kantian doctrine of space and time, as the two primitive
perception-forms of our reason, two objections present themselves,
one calling in question the primitive or a priori (transcendental)
character of these two ideas, the other their anthropological char-
acter. The first denies the unconditional validity of mathemati-
cal, and especially geometrical, axioms, and makes the idea of
space dependent upon empirical conditions; the second denies
the anthropological origin and character of these fundamental per-
ceptions, in order to be free to maintain their cosmological and
universal validity. Since both objections lie so near the surface
that it is impossible that Kant could have overlooked them, it
will suffice to set the sense of his doctrine in a clear light in order
to secure its foundations against these attacks.
"!->"-
1. First Objection : The Relative Validity of Geometrical
Axioms.
Kant by no means teaches the unconditional validity of geo-
metrical axioms, but one entirely dependent upon our idea of
space. Why we have this, and not some other space-perception ;
why our reason in general is thus, and not otherwise, organized —
these questions Kant does not, it is true, leave untouched and
uninvestigated, but yet unsolved ; indeed, he explicitly declares
them to be incapable of solution. According to his doctrine, we
may regard the organization of human reason, and the space-per-
ception it involves, as a primitive fact/ but this may not be
characterized as empirical, since experience is the product of rea-
son, not its condition.
If there were beings possessing perception of space of only two
dimensions, this perception would be for them a primitive fact,
and in consequence they would just as necessarily be destitute of
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 157
the ideas of solids, as we must necessarily possess and cultivate
those ideas. If it be true of plane surfaces, that a straight line
is the shortest distance between two points in the surface, that
between these two points there is only one such line, that two
straight lines cannot inclose space, etc., these propositions would
not be nullified by the fact that it is otherwise regarding the con-
nection of two points upon the surface of a sphere, as, e. g., the ex-
tremities of a diameter. That a definite space-perception is the
luminous ground of knowledge from which certain insights fol-
low, which under this presupposition are now and forever, i. e.,
apodicticalli/, valid — this was the fact which arrested the atten-
tion of Kant, and which he was only able to explain by regard-
ing the original ground of all our ideas of space — space itself — as
a ground-form of our thought, or as a fundamental perception of
our reason.
The validity of our mathematical insights is, therefore, accord-
ing to the explicit teaching of our philosopher, by no means un-
conditioned, but, on the contrary, absolutely dependent upon our
space-and-tirae-perception. But under this presupposition it is
apodictic in a way which no other sort of knowledge is. The
character of knowledge changes with the change of its conditions.
If we should substitute for our discursive understanding an intui-
tive one, and for our sensible perception an intellectual percep-
tion, knowledge would no longer follow the way of experience,
but see and penetrate everything at a glance. 1 If we should sub-
stitute for our external space-perception — i. <?., the perception of
space of three dimensions — some other, the character and compass
of our mathematical ideas would change accordingly, but not the
apodictical certitude of judgments based upon the corresponding
construction and perceptive insight. This point contains the fact
which at once characterizes and explains the nature of mathe-
matics. Hence those objections which found upon another space-
perception some other sort of geometry and its axioms are so lit-
tle calculated to refute Kant's doctrine that they much more may
and should appeal to it.
If it can be proved that 2 x 2 is not in all cases equal to 4, that
in our perception of a plane surface a straight line does not in all
1 Cf . infra, iii, 1 , p. 25, et seq.
158 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
instances describe the shortest distance between two points, etc.,
then for the first time is Kant's doctrine refuted. To him pure
mathematics seemed the only science in which knowing and cre-
ating, thought and object, were one and the same. Because pure
magnitudes are constructions, or the products of perception, he
regarded space and time as the perceptions of reason, or as the
perceptive activity of reason itself. Because our notions of magni-
tude presuppose the perceptive or sensible knowledge of magni-
tude, he regarded space and time as the ground-forms of sense, not
of understanding.
Even if these objections, which seek to base themselves upon the
empirical origin of geometry, were stronger than they are, tbey
would still prove ineffectual against the doctrine of the ideality
of all phenomena, since they refer only to space, not to time. If
time is a pure idea, or a form of perception, phenomena in time
can contain nothing independent of all ideas. Now, all phenomena
are in time, the objective as well as the subjective. But if object-
ive phenomena are ideas, then space, since it contains all objective
phenomena, can be nothing real in itself, but only the ground-
form of our external perception. The transcendental ideality of
time establishes the ideality of all phenomena, even that of object-
ive phenomena, hence also that of space.
2. Second Objection : The Uncritical View of the World.
The objections which our common consciousness opposes to the
systems of great thinkers are in their eyes generally the most in-
significant of all, yet, because of the constant obstruction they offer
to the comprehension and diffusion of these systems, they always
prove themselves the most potent ; for, like our feelings and sen-
sations, they are not to be silenced with reasons, and are, as Schil-
ler's " Wallenstein " says, " like the women, who always come back
to their first word when one has preached reason for hours." Such
an inflexible and uncritical way of thinking has always, among all
the doctrines of Kant, found the most fault with the "Transcend-
ental ^Esthetic," since it maintains that space and time are mere
perceptions of human reason, and nothing apart from the latter.
Accordingly, as it seems, space and time can first appear in the
world with our reason, hence with the existence of man, and can
therefore neither be given before his origin, nor endure after him.
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 159
Now, we are obliged to conceive the human race as originated and
as perishable, and yet we cannot possibly conceive the universe,
which contains in itself the conditions of the origin as well as the
destruction of the earth and its inhabitants, without space and
time. It seems highly absurd, therefore, to seek to confine these
two fundamental conditions of all natural existence to the organi-
zation and limits of human reason, as if it possessed and monopo-
lized them. Kant himself, indeed, before introducing his new
doctrine of the ideality of space and time, taught the mechanical
origin and development of the cosmos, and the natural history of
the heavens and of the earth, and its organic life. But with this
view of the world as an historical development the idealistic doc-
trine of space and time appears to stand in the most open opposi-
tion. Surely Kant could not have been sensible of this contradic-
tion, since he has nowhere made it the subject of especial discussion
and explanation. Meanwhile the natural consciousness, which,
with its ideas of space and time, finds the Kantian perfectly in-
comprehensible, is not disabused of its objections. Even an ad-
mirer and connoisseur of the Kantian philosophy, a man of remark-
able and recognized acumen, was accustomed to shake his head at
this doctrine, saying that it was utterly incomprehensible to him.
But Kant's doctrine of space and time is the foundation of his doc-
trine of knowledge, and the way to his doctrine of freedom. Noth-
ing, therefore, would remain of the Critical philosophy if this doc-
trine be rejected.
In fact, there is no contradiction between Kant's view of the
world as a natural development in time and his " Critique of Rea-
son." In the first place, both have different subjects of inquiry :
that of the first is the explanation of the world, that of the second
the explanation of knowledge. The problem of the explanation
of the world is : How did the world in which we live originate
according to natural and mechanical laws? The problem of the
" Critique" is : How did this our explanation of the world origi-
nate according to the laws of our reason and thought? There the
question is regarding the phenomena of nature, here regarding the
knowableness of the same. These phenomena would not be phe-
nomena, i. e., they could not appear to us, if they were not intel-
ligible and knowable. The entire fact of our idea of the world
could not exist if natural objects were inconceivable or contained
160 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
anything inconceivable. And this would necessarily be the case
if the elements of which they consisted were not determined by
the character and conditions of our thought. Their matter is de-
termined by the manifold of our impressions, which we receive by
means of sense, and consequently regard as given / these impres-
sions are the matter of phenomena. Their form is determined by
the laws of our thought, which we regard as pure forms of reason,
and the content of which Kant called pure reason ; these laws
constitute the form of phenomena. Phenomena, therefore, are
through and through ideas. Phenomena, objects of experience,
and the progressive Science of Experience, are all created from
the matter of our sensations in accordance with the rational laws
of our thought, the latter having partly the character of constitu-
tive, parti} 7 that of regulative, principles. These laws determine
the world of phenomena because they constitute it. They are,
therefore, within the realm of phenomena, world-conditions or
world-principles. But their meaning is entirely mistaken when
only an anthropological or psychological validity is ascribed to
them. They cannot be established by psychology, because they
first make psychology itself possible. The Kantian " Critique o -
Reason" is no anthropological investigation.
And here those objections which our unscientific view of the
world oppose to the Critical philosopher and his doctrine of space
and time refute themselves. Space and time are the laws of per-
ception imposed by our reason, and as such they determine the
entire world of sense, because they first make it in general possi-
ble. Their cosmical or universal validity — which the natural sense
so rightly demands and holds fast — is therefore so far from being
disproved by the " Critique of Reason " that it is, the rather, there-
by first really established. At the same time, however, this valid-
ity is limited in such a way that there may still be something
independent of space and time, while the common consciousness,
uncritical and thoughtless as it is, regards space as the huge box,
and time as the vast stream, in which everything that is must be
contained.
Man, as a natural individual, or as anthropology regards him,
belongs to the phenomena of nature, and is a part of the world of
sense. He is the result of a definite stage in the world's history —
a stage which forms a link in the chain of world-changes, and
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 101
which presupposes a succession of earlier stages. That the origin
and development of man most be regarded and investigated as
natural, historical facts, Kant was so far from denying that he
much more proposed to himself the thesis, and demonstrated by
his criticism of reason, and more especially by his doctrine of
space and time, that the necessity of its affirmation follows from
the conditions of our knowledge. Natural, historical man is, there-
fore, by no means the sole proprietor of space and time ; they are
not dependent upon him, but he, like all phenomena in general,
is conditioned by them. When space and time are called the
pure perceptions of human reason, it is very essential to distin-
guish the sense in which this word is taken ; it denotes man as
the knowing subject, not as one of the objects of knowledge. As
the subject of all knowledge — so far as we are capable of investi-
gating the latter — our reason is the condition of all objects in gen-
eral, or of the entire world of sense, in which in the course of
time the natural human race appears and develops itself in a time-
succession, which necessarily involves a preceding and a succeed-
ing world. For all phenomena are in time ; each has its time-
duration, before and after which there is time, since they all
originate and pass away, with the single exception of matter,
which persists. But the knowing subject is not in time, but
time in him, for it is the fundamental form of his sensuous
thought.
If, on the other hand, space and time be regarded, with Scho-
penhauer, as the forms of perception of our intellect, and at the
same time be declared to be animal functions of the brain, then
there arises for the first time that absurdity which obviously de-
scribes a circulus vitiosus — viz., space and time are made depend-
ent upon a condition, which, like the animal organism and the
stages of nature and animal life preceding it, is itself only possi-
ble under the conditions of space and time. If the latter are, as
Schopenhauer teaches, the " prinoipium individuationis" — i. e.,
the ground of all multiplicity and diversity — they cannot possibly
be, as, notwithstanding, Schopenhauer also teaches, the result and
functions of individual organisms. Nor was Schopenhauer ever
able successfully to explain away or to solve this erroneous circle,
grounded as it is in a fundamental feature of his doctrine.
XX— 11
162 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
III. THE DOCTRINE OF THINGS-IN-THEMSELYES.
I. The Sensuousness of Pure Reason.
The knowing subject is not in space and time, but these in him ;
hence the entire world in space and time is purely phenomenon or
idea; it is through and through phenomenal and ideal. This doc-
trine constitutes the Transcendental Idealism, which founds and
characterizes the Kantian doctrine of knowledge. If, now, in the
knowing subject there was nothing given, but, on the contrary,
everything was created by it, the world of phenomena would be
entirely its creation ; its notions would be immediate perceptions,
its faculty of knowledge would consist in perceptive thought — i. e.,
in an intuitive understanding, or in an intellectual perception, to
which everything it creates appears at once as object or thing.
Then knowing and creating would be completely identical, then
there would be no difference between sense and understanding:,
perception and thought, objects and notions, phenomena and things-
in-themselves.
Such a faculty of knowledge is not in itself impossible or incon-
ceivable, but it is not the one we possess; ours does not create
things, but develops itself and its objects. Kant taught repeated-
ly, and indeed always, with the utmost explicitness, that our un-
derstanding is discursive, not intuitive, our perception sensuous,
not intellectual. He accordingly carefully distinguished between
sense and understanding, and explained human knowledge in such
a way that it is from the matter of impressions and sensations,
which have and retain the character of something given, that we
produce phenomena, and the knowledge of phenomena, or experi-
ence.
Intuitive understanding is creative, and therefore divine; but
human understanding is not intuitive ; nor is it pure subject, for
to the character of human reason, as Kant investigates it in his
" Critique," there belongs sensuousness — i. e., the capacity of re-
ceiving, and being sensible of, impressions, or of being affected
by a manifold. Sense must not be identified with the organs of
sense, which are its medium, nor with the definite sensations they
convey, since they [the organs] belong to the constitution of the
human body. Yet our sensations as such presuppose a faculty of
sense or receptivity, which enables us to be affected by a manifold
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 163
of impressions, and without which the matter of knowledge would
fail — i. e., knowledge would remain empty, hence in general not
exist at all. This sensuousness Kant ascribes to pure reason, since
it is not, in the first place, a question of the sort of affections or the
quality of impressions, but only of the capacity itself of receiving
something given. Our reason must form and work up the given
material, according to the laws of its perception and thought, into
phenomena, experience, and empirical knowledge.
Our knowing reason would be creative, hence divine, if it were
not sensuous — i. e., capable of being affected by impressions, which
it must receive, and which it can only combine and systematize.
It is therefore not generative of the matter of knowledge, but
merely form-giving, not creative, but architectonic. Since it does
not make the matter of knowledge, but only receives it, it is re-
ceptive, and in this respect not original, but dependent. But the
entire organization of its knowing faculty is conditioned by its
sensuousness. Sense is one faculty, understanding another; this
is receptive of material, that form-giving and productive; this is
passive, that active ; this receives impressions, that creates notions.
Hence our perceptive faculty is not intellectual, but sensuous, our
understanding not intuitive, but discursive — i. e., it is obliged to
take up its perceptions one by one, and proceed by connecting
part with part, comparing perception with perception, and by
uniting these to pass from perceptions to notions and judgments.
Consequently the objects of our knowing reason are not entirely
its own products ; they are constructed out of matter and form ;
the former is given to it, the latter is given or added by it. Our
knowledge of things (objects), therefore, consists in a gradual ex-
perience ; it is not complete in an instant, but originates and de-
velops itself. We are obliged to think objects in succession, and
hence also in co-existence / since nothing would persist in a mere
succession, thus also nothing could be thought. Space and time
are therefore the fundamental conditions, or, since nothing can
be thought without them, the fundamental forms, of our thought;
they are, since every perception must be combined part by part,
the fundamental forms of perception ; and since our perceptive
faculty is not intellectual, but sensuous, the fundamental forms
of sense: in short, they are the fundamental perceptions of our
reason.
164 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
With a creative or divine reason, knowing and creating, idea
and thing, must be one and the same. It could be conditioned
by neither space nor time. Our reason is distinguished from the
divine by its sensuousness ; with it, space and time are the neces-
sary forms of all thought and of all knowledge. We ourselves are
the only sensuous-rational beings which we know. Hence sensu-
ous reason is equivalent for us to human reason. And thus, since
sense belongs to the pure reason which Kant investigated in his
" Critique," it was called by him — although the only reason know-
able to us — human reason. Now, sense, as the capacity of receiv-
ing material, is of a dependent and derived nature. And this
must be true of the entire organization and constitution of our
knowing reason, since without sensuousness it would be an entire-
ly different one from what it is. 1
Let us hear Kant himself. Quite at the beginning of the " Tran-
scendental ^Esthetic " he says : "The capacity of receiving ideas
in the manner in which we are affected by objects I call sense.
By means of sense, therefore, objects are given to us, and it alone
furnishes us perceptions ; objects are thought, however, by the
understanding, and it is from the latter that notions arise." " The
action of an object upon the faculty of representation — that is, so
far as we are affected by it — is sensation. Perception which is re-
lated to an object through sensation is empirical. The indetermi-
nate object of an empirical perception I call phenomenon. That
in phenomena which corresponds to sensation I call the 'matter of
phenomena ; that, however, which makes it possible that the mani-
fold of phenomena be disposed in certain relations I call the form
of the same. Since that whereby sensations can alone be ordered
and set in definite form cannot itself again be sensation, 2 so, al-
though the matter of all phenomena is indeed given only a poste-
riori, the form of the same must, on the contrary, already lie a
1 On the discursive and intuitive understanding. Cf . Fischer : " Gesch. d. n. Philos.,"
vol. iv, pp. 494-498.
2 The liberty has been taken of correcting a probable oversight in quoting here, as it
is of importance to the sense. Kant reads Empfiudung (sensation), not Erscheinung
(phenomenon), as given in the text of Prof. Fischer. Also in the following quotation,
beginning " It is not necessary," etc., the recent edition of Benno Erdmann has been
followed, instead of reading in the affirmative (It is necessary) with the edition from
which Prof. Fischer quotes (vid. Note, p. 1), as the sense certainly substantiates the
more modern reading. — Tr.
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 165
priori as an entirety in the mind, and, consequently, must be
capable of being considered wholly apart from sensation." ! At
the close of the " Transcendental ^Esthetic " Kant says : " It is not
necessary, either, that we limit perception in space and time to
human sensibility. It may be that all finite thinking beings are
necessarily like man in this respect (although that cannot be de-
termined), yet it would not cease, even on account of this univer-
sality, to be sense, because it is a derived {intnitus derivatus), not
an original {intuitus originarius), hence not an intellectual, per-
ception. Such a perception seems, on the ground just brought
forward, to belong only to the Primitive Being, not, however, to a
being dependent as well in its existence as in its perception, which
latter determines the relation of its existence to given objects.
This last observation in our ./Esthetic theory, however, must be
made merely as an explanation, not as anything fundamental." 2
2. The Thing-in-itself.
Our knowing reason is accordingly not creative in reference to
the matter of all phenomena and knowledge, but merely receptive.
It receives this matter in virtue of its sensuousness ; hence the lat-
ter is dependent and conditioned. And here arises the necessary
inquiry concerning the origin of our impressions or sensations.
Since these are the material which our faculties of knowledge
mould and form, they cannot themselves proceed from the latter,
but are rather the necessary conditions by which these faculties
are aroused and set into activity. And, since they constitute the
matter of all phenomena, we cannot derive them from phenomena
without falling into the erroneous circle of first deducing phenome-
na from impressions, and then impressions from phenomena. In-
deed, they can in no way originate from the world of sense, since
the sense world first arises from them. From this it appears that
the origin of our sensations is not itself a phenomenon, and hence
does not constitute a knowable object. It is the subject of neces-
sary inquiry, but not that of knowledge. It is something which
precedes and lies at the basis of all experience, but which itself
can never be felt, conceived, nor experienced. This unknown
1 Kant: " Kritik d. r. Vernunft. Transc. Elementarlehre," Part I, § 1. (Werke, vol.
ii, pp. 59, 60.)
J Ibid., p. 86, el seq.
166 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
and unknowable object is that transcendental X which the Kant-
ian doctrine must necessarily have met in the course of its inquiry
beyond, or, better said, within the limits of human reason.
We are thus obliged to posit as the cause of the impressions we
receive something which lies at the basis of sense, and hence at
the basis of the whole constitution of our knowing reason ; hence,
also, at the basis of all phenomena and the entire sense-world.
But precisely on this account it cannot itself be anything sensible,
cannot be a phenomenon, cannot be an object of knowledge. This
" supersensible substratum " Kant calls T hing-in-itself, designat-
ing thereby that transcendental X which the " Critique of Reason "
introduces, and which it sees itself, on the grounds pointed out,
obliged to introduce into its calculation. It is called thing-in-
itself in distinction from all phenomena. If our reason were not
sensuous, but divine, not receptive, but creative, then its ideas
would be things themselves, then there would be no difference be-
tween phenomena and things-in-themselves. Since, however, it
is sensuous, space and time are the ground-forms of its perception,
its objects of knowledge are phenomena, and these merely ideas,
hence not things-in-themselves. Consequently, in the critical in-
vestigation of reason we must distinguish between phenomena and
things-in-themselves witli the utmost precision, regarding every
attempt to unite the two as the cause of irremediable confusion.
Now, because the objects which relate themselves to the thing-
in-itself, or the relations which the latter sustains, are so numerous
and so unlike, we see why the thing-in-itself appears in Kant's
teachings in so many and different references. For it is the super-
sensible substratum at once of our sensibility and of the whole
constitution of our knowing reason ; hence it is the hidden ground
of all phenomena, the objective as well as the subjective, and
therefore the substratum of the entire sense-world. In reference
to sense, which is merely receptive of the matter of knowledge, it
functions as the matter-giving principle, or as the cause of our sen-
sations. In reference to the constitution of our knowing reason in
general, it is represented as the hidden ground of our mode of
perception and thought, i. e., as the cause of our perceiving and
thinking, and mentally representing to ourselves objective and
subjective phenomena. Since phenomena are in space and time
and hence consist throughout in external relations, the thing-in-
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 167
itself is called, in distinction therefrom, " the inner, that which be-
longs to objects in themselves " — an expression which demands
careful attention, lest the radically false impression be received
that the thing-in-itself lies hidden somewhere in phenomena. The
meaning rather is, that the thing-in-itself is not external, not re-
lated to another, hence not in space and time at all. Since all
phenomena are empirical objects, the thing-in-itself is called in
distinction therefrom "the transcendental object" Since all phe-
nomena are ideas, and not objects external to and independent of
thought, the thing-in-itself functions as " the true correlate of our
ideas." And, since phenomena alone are objects of knowledge,
the thing-in-itself denotes the bounds of our knowledge, and func-
tions as "the limiting notion of our understanding. In all these
manifold meanings we see no self-transforming Proteus, but one
and the same thing, which the philosopher is obliged to exhibit in
different forms according to "the various relations which it sustains.
Let us take Kant's own words. He says in the doctrine of space :
" The transcendental notion of phenomena in space is a critical
reminder that in general nothing which is perceived in space is a
thing-in-itself, nor space a form of things, which might be in itself
in some way peculiar to them, but that objects in themselves are
for us, indeed, unknown, and what we call external objects are noth-
ing other than pure ideas of our sense, the form of which is space,
the true correlate of which, however — i. <?., the thing-in-itself — is
thereby not known, nor can be known ; and for the latter no
quest, likewise, is made in experience." l " For the substantia-
tion of this theory of the ideality of external as well as internal
sense, hence of all objects of sense as pure phenomena, the obser-
vation may be of especial service, that everything in our knowl-
edge which belongs to perception contains nothing except mere
relations — namely, the places in a perception (extension), change
of place (motion), and the laws according to which this change of
place is determined (moving forces). What, however, is present
in a place, or what beyond the change of place is occasioned in the
things themselves, is not thereby given. Now, a thing-in-itself is
not known through mere relations. Hence it is to be carefully
noted that, since nothing save pure ideas of relation are giy,en to
1 Kant : " Krit. r. V. Tiansc. .Esth.," § 3. (Werke, vol. ii, p. 68, seq.)
168 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
us through external sense, this also can contain in its idea only the
relation of an object to the subject — and not " the inner, that
which belongs to the object in itself. With internal perception the
conditions are the same." l
The substratum of our external and internal perception is also
that of our external and internal phenomena, that of the consti-
tution of our knowing reason in general, and of our sensibility
and understanding; hence it is the ground of our special ideas as
well as of our thought. Kant says : " That something which lies
at the basis of objective phenomena, and which so affects our sense
that it receives the ideas of space, matter, form, etc. — this some-
thing, regarded as noumenon (or, better, as transcendental object),
might also be at the same time the subject of thought, although,
through the mode in which our sensibility is thereby affected, we
receive no perception of idea, will, etc., but only of space and its
determinations. This something, however, is not extended, not
impenetrable, not composite, since all these predicates belong only
to sense and its perceptions, so far as we are affected by such
(otherwise to us unknown) objects." 2
That we mentally represent objective and subjective phenomena,
have sensibility and understanding, that we perceive and think —
herein consists the organization of our knowing reason. We dis-
cover that, but not why, it is so and not otherwise constituted.
To take Kant's own words again : " The notorious question con-
cerning the community of thought and extension would conse-
quently, if everything imaginary be excluded, amount to the fol-
lowing: How is external perception — namely, that of space (a till-
ing of the same, form and motion) — in a thinking subject in general
possible? But to this question it is impossible for any man to find
an answer. And this gap in our knowledge can never be filled,
but only in so far characterized that external phenomena be as-
cribed to a transcendental object which is the cause of this sort
of ideas — an object, however, which we by no means know, nor oi
which we can ever obtain a notion. In all the problems that may
arise in the field of experience, we treat these phenomena as ob-
jects in themselves, without troubling ourselves about the original
ground of their possibility (as phenomena). If, however, we go
1 Ibid., § 8, p. 83.
2 Ibid., Tr. Dialektik : Krit. 2 Paralog.
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 169
beyond their limits, the notion of a transcendental object becomes
necessary." l
The philosopher Eberhard, in Halle, who held that after the
Leibnitzian doctrine of knowledge the Kantian " Critique of Rea-
son " was unnecessary and superfluous, made the criticism upon
the latter that it was not able to explain the matter of sense —
namely, sensations — without things-in-themselves. " Choose which
we will," he says, "we come upon things-in-themselves." Kant
invalidates this stricture by at once affirming and correcting it.
He replies: " Now, that is precisely the constant assertion of Criti-
cism; only that it does not set the ground of the matter of sensu-
ous ideas anew in things, as objects of sense, but in something
supersensible, something which lies at the basis of sense, and of
which we can have no knowledge. Criticism says: 'Objects, as
things-in-themselves, give the matter for empirical perceptions
(they contain the ground for determining the representative facul-
ty according to its sensuousness), but they are not that matter.'" 2
In the sentence just cited, one may read word for word what
every student of the "Critique" knows, and what astonishes no
one — viz., that objects as things-in-themselves furnish, but not
are, the matter of empirical perceptions — i. e., sensations ; they
are its cause. Zeller very rightly says : " There can be no doubt
that Kant always maintained an object in this sense, and derived
sensible perception therefrom." From Zeller's preceding sen-
tences it appears in what sense he takes " object " here He un-
derstands by it, with Kant, " the transcendental object," or " the
thing-in-itself." 3 But a contemporary weekly anonymously in-
forms its readers that, according to Kant, " things-in-themselves
are not the cause of our sense-perceptions, also not the ground
that sense-perceptions are possible for us, but the ground of ob-
jects, the importance of which for the possibility of experience
means transcendental object." The first assertion is absolutely
false, and an evidence of the ignorance of the author ; the second
is perfectly senseless, and an evidence of confusion and prattling
1 Ibid., " Betrachtung iiber d. Summe d. reinen Seelenlehre," vol. ii, p. 696, seq.
s Vid. Kant : " Ueber eine Entdeckung, nach der alle neue Kritik der Yernunft durch
eine altere entbehrlich gemacht werden soil" (1790). Werke, vol. iii, p. 352. <
3 E. Zeller: "Gesch. d. deutschen Philos. seit Leibnitz," second edition, 1875, pp-
352, 353.
170 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
absurdity that characterizes the whole scribble. When the writer
charges me with regarding the expressions " transcendentales Ob-
ject" and " transcend 'entaler Gegenstand" as synonymous, and
both as Kantian designations of the thing-in-itself, he simply dis-
plays his own ignorance of Kant's teachings. 1 When, however,
he charges me with confounding " thing-in-itself" with " things
external to me," the statement is a falsehood, since, following the
precedent of the Critical philosophy, I always distinguish, and
make it my care to distinguish, with the utmost exactness, be-
tween these two notions. It is indeed a fact unworthy closer at-
tention, yet nevertheless curious, that a doctrine which Kant
expressly declared to be " the constant assertion of his ' Critique ' "
should to-day be denied the Philosopher, and the senseless oppo-
site ascribed to him. And this occurs even in a so-called prize-
essay on Kant. 2
In order to a just estimate and criticism of the Kantian philoso-
phy, it is of vital importance that the doctrine of the thing-in-itself
be understood in its origin and development as well as in its
scope. It too commonly happens that it is falsely and one-sidedly
taken, as when things-in-themselves are referred merely to the ob-
jects of knowledge or phenomena, and transferred to them, as if
they were contained in them, like the kernel in the shell, only
that they remain hidden from us as sentient beings. The Empiri-
cists, who, like Bacon and Locke, granted the validity of no other
than sensible knowledge, declared things-in-themselves to be un-
knowable, while the Rationalists, as Descartes and Leibnitz, held
sense to be confused understanding, clear and distinct thinking,
on the contrary, to be the true form of knowledge, and therefore
things-in-themselves to be the true objects of knowledge. Then
things-in-themselves and phenomena are the same objects; when
perceived, they are things as they appear to us ; when clearly and
distinctly thought, on the contrary, they are things as they are in
themselves. The same thing is, therefore, according to the way
1 That is, the expressions in question are synonymous, and both used by Kant to
designate the thing-in-itself ; there is, then, no ground of criticism. The " senseless "
clause referred to reads : " wohl aber [die Dinge an sich] sind der Grand Gegenstande,
deren Bedeutung zur Moglichkeit der Erfahrung der transcendentale Gegenstand heisst."
The writer may possibly intend, . . . leads them to be called transcendental object. — Tr.
2 Vid. " Grenzboten," No. 40 (1882), p. 12. Cf. K. Lasswitz: " Die Lehre Kant's von
der Idealitiit des Raumes und der Zeit" (1883), p. 132, note
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 171
in which it is apprehended — whether by sense or by understand-
ing, whether obscurely or distinctly — phenomenon or thing-in-itself.
In precisely this confusion Kant saw the fundamental error of the
Dogmatic philosophy, and especially that of its metaphysics. Ac-
cording to him, both the above notions are to be absolutely distin-
guished. The thing-in-itself is the supersensible substratum of
phenomena, because it is that of our knowing reason, because it
is that of our sensibility, which has, but does not create, sensa-
tions, and receives impressions, which can be caused neither by it
itself nor by one of its objects.
Chapter II.
The Kantian Philosophy as Doctrine of Freedom .
I. KANTIAN REALISM AND IDEALISM.
It is not our purpose at this point to inquire whether the fun-
damental doctrines of Kant accord or discord with one another,
whether, and in how far, they are uncontroverted, or indeed recog-
nized as incontrovertible. We desire here simply to fix in mind
that the recognition of the reality of things-in-themselves, and of
their distinction from phenomena, is an essential part of those doc-
trines. This recognition is related to the doctrine of the ideality
of phenomena, as the thing-in-itself to the latter, and it thus forms
in the doctrinal edifice of Kant at once the substructure and the
necessary completion of transcendental idealism. To deny or mis-
apprehend the recognition of things-in-themselves and their differ-
entiation from phenomena means to shake the foundations of the
Critical philosophy. When the reality of things-in-themselves is
indeed affirmed, but yet they are not properly distinguished from
phenomena, there arises that confusion of both which constitutes
the character and fundamental error of the Dogmatic philosophy.
If there were merely things-in-themselves and no phenomena, all
knowledge would be impossible. If there were merely phenomena
and no things-in-themselves, the sense-w T orld we conceive would be
a dream — a dream common to us all, to be sure, and harmonious
in itself, but yet a purely subjective image without actual ground
or consistence. The knowableness of the world consists in its
ideality, i.e., in its being through and through capable of repre-
172 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
sentation in thought, arid in its being so represented. This
characteristic the Critical philosophy, as transcendental idealism,
teaches and establishes. The reality of the world consists in that
which lies at the basis of all phenomena — since at the basis of all
ideas and all faculties of thought — and which is designated by the
Critique as " thing-in-itself." In this sense the doctrine of phe-
nomena may be called the Kantian Idealism, the doctrine of things-
in-themselves the Kantian Realism.
II. THE THING-IN-ITSELF AS WILL.
1. Intelligible Causality.
Kant regards things-in-themselves as the supersensible sub-
stratum of our knowing reason and sense-world, as the matter-
giving principle, or as the cause of our sensations. He ascribes
to them, accordingly, a causality which is to be taken in an en-
tirely different sense from that category of cause which determines
the succession of phenomena in time, and thereby both renders
our experience possible and creates it, but which also, precisely
on that account, has validity only within the latter. This notion
is a rule of the understanding, which may only be applied to phe-
nomena, hence not to things-in-themselves. Kant knew this, and
taught it. One must not assume that such a thinker has entan-
gled himself in his own doctrines in so clumsy and apparent a
manner as composedly to apply to things-in-themselves the very
same notion which he had shown to be invalid for them. Kant
distinguishes two sorts of causality which are inherently and essen-
tially unlike : u the conditioned or sensible" and "the uncondi-
tioned or intelligible." The former is valid only for phenomena,
the succession of which in time is determined and constituted by
it alone ; the latter is not valid for phenomena, and is independent
of all time. Now, things-in-themselves are timeless and causal;
hence their causality is the unconditioned and intelligible, which,
according to Kant's doctrine, consists in Freedom or in pure will,
and this constitutes the moral principle of the world.
2. The Moral Order of the World.
There is still another world than the sensible and time-world,
namely, an intelligible world, which is completely independent of
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 173
the former — a world which must not be sought after and thought
of as an heavenly world of spirits existing somewhere beyond our
common experience, yet of necessity still in space and time — this
would be the way to Swedenborg's Mysticism — but a world which
we recognize as the moral world, that in which the laws of free-
dom find their recognition and fulfilment. The intelligible world
is the World as Will, the sensible w r orld is the World, as Idea ( Vor-
stellung) ; the former is related to the latter as thing-in-itself to
phenomena; in other words, it is the thing-in-itself, and lies at
the base of the sense-world ; hence it is independent of the latter,
while this is dependent upon it. But just as the sensible world is
related to the intelligible, so our faculty of knowledge must be re-
lated to the will, or, what is the same thing, our theoretical to our
practical reason ; the latter is independent of the former, while
the former is dependent upon the latter. Herewith is that rela-
tion determined which Kant called " the Primacy of Practical
Reason" He saw himself obliged to hold the reality and causal-
ity of things-in-themselves, and to identify the latter, as intelli-
gible causality, with freedom or pure will, and thus to teach the
primacy of practical reason. In other words, the true or real prin-
ciple of the world is, according to Kant, not knowing reason, but
will.
The goal of our will is, according to the law of freedom, the
purity of volition. This goal is to be striven for and attained ;
the endeavor finds its expression in the purification of the will,
which constitutes the real ground-theme of the moral world.
Since now without the sense-world no sensuous motives or appe-
tites could be operative in us, hence no material of purification
given, this itself consequently aimless and superfluous, it becomes
clear that the entire sense-world, unobstructed as to its own laws,
constitutes a necessary member and an integral part of the moral
world; that it is compassed and swayed by the latter; and that
the laws of nature are subordinate to the laws of freedom, although
they are thereby in no way suspended or annulled. As thus un-
derstood, our sensible life acquires a moral meaning, and becomes
a moral 'phenomenon, in which a definite disposition — i. e., the will
in a definite state of purity or impurity — reveals and manifests
itself. The constancy of this disposition makes our moral conduct
seem necessitated, i. e., as the consequence of our given empirical
174 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
character. But since it is the disposition, or tendency of the will,
which appears in our empirical character and forms its principle,
the latter must be a phenomenon of will, or a willed phenomenon
— i.e., a phenomenon of the intelligible character or of freedom.
Here we see how Kant's doctrine of intelligible and empirical
character necessarily follows from his doctrine of freedom and
purification. Without the ideality of time and space there is no
possibility of a sense-world, but also no possibility of freedom.
Without a sense-world and freedom there is no necessity for the
purification of the will, no moral phenomena of a sensible and
empirical sort, hence no empirical character as a manifestation of
the intelligible, and no community of freedom and necessity in the
conduct and characters of men. Because Kant first made this
unity of freedom and necessity intelligible, Schopenhauer was led
to call it " the greatest of all the contributions of human thought."
And since the way to this insight could be won only through the
doctrine of space and time, the same writer extolled the "Tran-
scendental ./Esthetic " and the doctrine of intelligible and empirical
character as " the two diamonds in the crown of Kantian fame."
III. THE DOCTKINE OF GOD AND IMMORTALITY.
1. Kantian Theism.
The Idea and import of the moral order of the world compre-
hends in itself the question regarding the original ground of the
same, as also that regarding the attainability of its highest end,
namely, the purity of the will. The moral author of the world is
God, and the purity of the will, or moral perfection, is not to be
attainable in a temporal, but only in an eternal life — *. e., through
the immortality of the soul. According to Kant, the Ideas of
Freedom, God, and Immortality go hand in hand. In the " Cri-
tique of Pure Reason " they are merely Ideas (Ideen), but in the
"Critique of Practical Reason " they have the value of realities ;
and, indeed, it is only through the reality of freedom and the moral
order of the world that the other two Ideas also are realized or
made morally certain. It is utterly impossible, from the point of
view of the sense-world, to comprehend and demonstrate the ex-
istence of freedom, God, and immortality. Indeed, all proofs di-
rected to that end with the means furnished bv our theoretical
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 175
reason must necessarily fail. Critical inquiry reveals the fact that
these objects are incapable of demonstration, while at the same
time it leaves the question of their reality untouched. Now, the
doctrine of the ideality of time and space, and of the sense-world,
has already established the possibility of freedom. But since
time is purely our idea, we can distinguish ourselves from it, and
must do so. There is, then, something- in us which is independ-
ent of all time : this timeless something is freedom; and as it is
the only condition under which the fact of our moral self-conscious-
ness and the activity of the moral law within us can take place,
not only the possibility, but the actualit} 7 of freedom is to be af-
firmed. The moral order of the world consists in the fulfilment
of the laws of freedom. Without this moral order they would
remain empty ; they would not be laws, and freedom itself would
be a mere fancy. There follows, from the moral order of the
world, to which the sensible must be subordinate, the reality of
the moral ground of the world (God), and the attainability of the
moral end of the world, which includes in itself the perfection of
the will, and therefore immortality. These are the so-called moral
arguments with which Kant sought to demonstrate, through free-
dom, the primacy of practical reason and the necessary fulfilment
of its postulates — the existence of God and the immortality of the
soul.
These moral proofs have won for Kant many adherents, on ac-
count of their religious importance and the ease with which they
are comprehended ; but, owing to their apparent inconsistency
with the results of the first " Critique," they have found antago-
nists as well, who have made them the subject now of honest
criticism, now of ridicule. It has been asserted that Kant sought
in the "Critique of Practical Reason," but with weak arguments,
to raise up again as a makeshift for weak souls what he had al-
ready destroyed, and with conclusive argument, in the " Critique
of Pure Reason." Among the writers on the Critical philosophy,
Schopenhauer, in particular, is the representative of this view,
and the most pronounced opponent of Kantian theism.
The doctrine of freedom and the absolute supremacy of the
moral order of the world, or the doctrine of the primacy of prac-
tical reason, rests with Kant upon firm ground. The moral proof
for the existence of God stands or falls with this doctrine. Re-
176 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
garding the theoretical demonstrability of the latter, Kant held
different views at different stages of his philosophical inquiry. In
his pre-critical period he sought to transform these demonstra-
tions and to re-establish them ; in the " Critique of Pare Reason "
he not onh 7 denied, but refuted them, or demonstrated their im-
possibility ; and in the " Critique of Practical Reason," as well as
in that of " Theological Judgment," he neither abandons nor modi-
fies this last position, but, in perfect agreement with it, deduces —
using the well-known and evident arguments — from the necessity
of the moral order of the world, the necessity of the moral ground
of the world, or the existence of God. Accordingly, in what con-
cerns the question of the demonstrability of the divine existence,
we find no contradiction in the different views of Kant, but a logic-
ally consistent advance. But, however differently he may have
thought on this point — namely, the knoivableness of God — there was
not a moment in the course of the development of his philosophical
convictions when lie denied, or even only doubted, the reality of
God. And there is still a second and a third point which re-
mained unquestionably certain to him, and even at the time of his
most skeptical tendency, when he ridiculed Swedenborg's dreams
of a spirit-world and of our intercourse with it: I mean his con-
viction that morality is independent of every sort of scientific
knowledge, as well as of every doubt that may shake the latter;
and that the spiritual world as well as spiritual intercourse con-
sists merely in a moral community, or in the moral order of the
world. 1
2. The Kantian Doctrine of Immortality.
On the other hand, the way in which the summum bonam is
conceived in the " Critique of Practical Reason " — the notion of
it being produced with the aid of the Ideas of God and immor-
tality — involves a series of difficult and doubtful considerations.
And it will be advisable, in order to win a correct apprehension
of the matter, that we take up our criticism of this doctrine of
Kant's along with its characterization. For, since the Critical
philosophy sees itself necessitated from the standpoint of its en-
tirely new view of the world to affirm immortality, it is all-im-
portant that this affirmation be properly understood.
1 Cf. K. Fischer: "Gesch. d. n. Philos.," vol. iii, pp. 229, 230, 252-254, 264, 265.
Critique of Kantian Philosophy . 177
The summum bonum is recognized by Kant as the unification
of virtue and happiness ; as that state of blessedness which is mer-
ited by our worthiness, and appointed us by the justice of God.
It is because the purity of the will must be attained, and yet can-
not be attained in this our present life, that the " Critique of
Practical Reason" postulates a future life — i. e., the continuance
and permanence of our personal existence, or the immortality of
the soul. We wiil test this conception of the matter exactly ac-
cording- to the canons which the Critical philosophy prescribes
for us.
In the first place, it is not at all clear why purity of disposi-
tion should be absolutely unattainable during our earthly exist-
ence. In reality, Kant has himself contradicted this assertion in
his doctrine of religion. For he there exempts from these condi-
tions not merely the ideal Saviour, but the Saviour in the actuality
of the Person Jesus, expressly declaring that his example would
not be practical and effectual if this purity should be either de-
nied Him or ascribed to Him as a supernatural, miraculous power. 1
Hence the proposition that the goal of our moral perfection can
be attained only in a future and eternal life does not stand proof.
This objection aside, it is further not evident in what respect
the permanence of our existence is to help the matter. Perma-
nence, like duration in general, is a time-determination, and as
such it falls within time and the sense-world. If now moral per-
fection is not attainable in the present sense-world, owing to the
temporal and sensible nature of our existence, then it will remain
unattainable in the future sense-world, since the conditions of its
impossibility are in no way removed. The eternal life must be
distinguished from the temporal ; even endless existence is not to
be regarded as eternal life. And it is much to be regretted that
Kant in his doctrine of immortality did not make this distinction.
He demands " an existence and personality of the same rational
being enduring to infinity.''''
But if immortality is recognized as continued existence or future
life, we must ask: How can our personality still continue within
time and the sense-world after our bodily existence has ceased?
By a second earthly birth (transmigration of souls), or by removal
1 Cf. K. Fischer: "Gesch. d. n. Philos.," vol. iv, pp. 309, 310, 321, 322.
XX— 12
178 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
to another, perhaps less dense, planet, as Jupiter, say — what Kant
himself in earlier life held to be possible 1 — or by wandering
through the starry heavens, or how else? Such questions present
themselves, and yet they admit of no answer, or only a fanciful
one ; so that the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, considered
as a lasting duration of our personal existence in time and in the
sense-world, is degraded from a postulate of practical reason to an
object of imagination and phantasy.
According to the demands of practical reason, our worthiness
is to be the cause of our happiness, our purity that of our salva-
tion. If we have attained the first, we have merited the second,
and receive it from the hand of God. Now, we fail to see what
sort of happiness that does not follow of itself from purity is still
to be added. Self-denial is complete, all motives of self-love and
self-seeking are subdued, and thus all the evils which make us un-
happy have vanished. The pangs of an evil conscience have given
place to the peace of a good one. If this blessedness still lacks
anything, it can only be the fulness of outward goods, as com-
pensation for the outward evils suffered — it seeming, perhaps, that,
after achieving the heaven of a good conscience, we ought also,
speaking in figure, to revel in Abraham's bosom ! It is not clear
with what right Kant, who in his doctrine of morals maintained
and emphatically insisted upon the most rigid and even painful
separation of morality and happiness, now demands, in order to
the production of the sum/mum bonum, the necessary unification
of the two under the constant presupposition of {hen fundament-
ally different origin. Morality follows from the pure will, striv-
ing for happiness from the empirical will or self-love, which de-
sires everything that promotes its well-being. Is, then, striving
for future and eternal happiness less eudaemonistic, less covetous
and selfish, than striving for present happiness? Kant's teaching
says: Seek before everything purity of disposition, and happi-
ness will fall to you of itself in virtue of divine justice. You may
not desire and demand happiness, but you may, indeed, hope for
it. As though this hope were not, too, a silent expectancy, covet-
ousness, and requisition ! With such a hope we are much like
the polite servants, who demand nothing, even assure you they
will take nothing, yet at the same time furtively open the hand.
1 Cf. Fischer: " Gesch. d. n. Philos.," vol. iii, p. 148.
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 179
All these weak points in the Kantian doctrine of immortality,
as they present themselves to ns in the postulates of practical rea-
son, may be traced to one fundamental error. The irpoirov i/reOSo?
lies in the fact that divine justice is apprehended after the stand-
ard of temporal justice, and made to consist in retribution. Ac-
cordingly, the disproportion between virtue and happiness in our
present life demands an equalization which can and should be
first realized in a future state. Kant established penal justice, the
administration of which belongs to the power of the state, on the
notion of the necessity of retribution. On the same notion he now
founds a reward-dispensing justice, the perfect and infallible ad-
ministration of which is only possible through God, and first exer-
cised in the life beyond. He thus degrades eternal life to a future
life, immortality to a mere permanence of personality, makes puri-
ty tantamount to a goal which is absolutely unattainable in the
present, and the moral life to a series of states of perfection with
which the states of recompense go hand in hand. Following this
view, it must be demanded, as Emil Arnoldt has already aptly re-
marked, 1 that the degree of happiness be adapted and proportioned
to the moral quality of our will, hence that the impurity of the
will be accompanied with the corresponding punishments. And, as
a will not completely purified has still the character of impurity,
divine justice would be compelled to exercise its office of retribu-
tion in the other world chiefly by inflicting greater or less penal-
ties, which would be appointed as according to the greater or less
degree of our impurity. In this way we find ourselves in the
midst of the labyrinth of the Platonic doctrines of immortality and
retribution, while following the threads of the Kantian.
It is further not evident why, in our present life, the justice of
God as granting rewards, and in the future life as inflicting pen-
alties, should in each case cease or be suspended, which we are led
to infer, since Kant as good as does not mention the latter in his
doctrine of immortality. Why are the countless incongruities be-
tween virtue and happiness permitted even in this world ? If they
actually are, indeed, the incongruities which they seem to us to be !
If they are not, as the omnipresence and justice of God compel us
to believe, then also the conditions disappear under which diyine
1 E. Arnoldt: " Ueber Kant's Ideen vom hochsten Gut." (Konigsberg, 1874), pp. 7-1 3.
18U The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
justice is first in a future life to assume the office and character
of an equalizing retribution.
Kant wanted to harmonize his new doctrine of freedom with the
old doctrine of immortality and of retribution in a future world,
and he sought to do this by recognizing and defending the latter
as a necessary postulate of the former. This attempt must neces-
sarily have failed, and, indeed, have been frustrated by the prin-
ciples of the Critical philosophy itself. If the activity of God re-
mains for us an unsearchable mystery, as Kant taught and must
have taught, then he could not consistently have attempted to un-
veil the mode of activity of the divine justice, and have sought to
determine it according to a standard that is subject to the condi-
tions of time. And even saying nothing of the fact that he un-
justifiably apprehended this mode of activity as retribution, and
permitted it to appear as something comprehensible, he still was
not justified in representing this divine retribution as inoperative
in the present temporal state, and as first to be looked for in the
future life.
Our aim is to judge the Kantian doctrine of immortality accord-
ing to the fundamental canons of the Critical philosophy, and we
desire, therefore, to amend it in agreement with them, not to re-
ject it altogether. For we certainly appreciate that the new doc-
trine of freedom radically changes the doctrine of immortality also,
and that the latter enters through Transcendental Idealism a new
stadium of affirmation. Now, the apprehension as well as the de-
termination of the problem of immortality depends upon the ques-
tion whether we, with all that constitutes our being, are in time
and space, or these in us. If time and space are the all-compre-
hensive, fundamental conditions of all existence, so that nothing
can be independent of them, then it is matter alone which persists,
while its forms change; then all particular things must originate
and pass away ; then no single being, no individual, hence also no
person, can perpetually endure; on the contrary, each one has a
definite duration in time which is so bound up with his being that
the limits of this duration are the insurmountable limits of personal
existence. Under this presupposition, according to which time
and space are things, or determinations of things-in-thernselves,
there remains nothing further for us than either, in agreement
with the above assumption, to deny every sort of individual (per-
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 181
Bonal) immortality, or, in contradiction with it, to affirm and con-
ceive of the latter in a wholly fanciful manner, merely to satisfy
certain needs of the inner nature. All origination and decay takes
place in time, and is only possible in time. Whatever is independ-
ent of all time, or has the character of timeless being, can neither
originate nor pass away : this alone is eternal. Since now time as
snch is no thing-in-itself, but only the necessary form of thought,
all things in time are ideas or phenomena, which depend for their
existence upon a being to whom they appear, or who conceives
and knows them. This being, however, since it constitutes the
condition of all phenomena, is itself no phenomenon ; it is not in
time, but time in it ; hence it is independent of all time — i. e., time
less, or eternal. It is impossible that certain phenomena should
originate, and then, instead of passing away, continue to exist
ad infinitum. It is just as impossible that certain phenomena
should pass away, and yet, instead of actually perishing, continue
to exist in time and the sense-world in some secret manner. Yet
this is the way in which the immortality of the human soul is
commonly conceived— namely, the perishableness of human exist-
ence in time is at once affirmed and denied, and death thus regard-
ed in reality as a mere formality.
The true notion of immortality coincides with that of eternity.
Such immortality the Critical philosophy affirms and establishes
through its new doctrines of time and space, of the ideality of our
sense-world, and of the reality of that supersensible substratum
which lies at the basis of our theoretical reason and its phenomena,
and which Kant called " thing-in-itself" and exhibited as the prin-
ciple of the moral order of the world. Now, just as all objects of
sense are throughout phenomenal, so also our sense-life has the
character of a pure phenomenon ; and just as the entire sense-
world is the manifestation of the intelligible or moral order of the
world, so the empirical character of man is the manifestation of
his intelligible character; that is temporal and transitory, this
timeless and eternal. The eternity of our intelligible being must,
like freedom, be affirmed, although immortality, as thus truly ap-
prehended, cannot be represented to the mind, or drawn in the
imagination, since to conceive it, or to fashion it pictorially, means
to make it temporal, and therewith to deny it altogether. Sine.'
without sensuous ideas there are no knowable objects, the iminor-
182 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
tality of the soul can never be theoretical ly demonstrated. But
since all sensuous ideas stand under the condition of time, which
is itself merely the form of our thought, our being is timeless or
eternal, and the immortality of the soul can never be refuted ; all
proofs directed against the doctrine are just as futile as the theo-
retical arguments for it. On either side, the reality of time, and
what is really tantamount to the mortality of our being, are first
falsely assumed ; and then the one, in order to establish the im-
mortality of the soul, demonstrates its immateriality and inde-
structibility, while the other, in order to refute the same proposi-
tion, proves the soul's materiality and perishability. Invalid
proofs may be confuted by showing their impossibility, but they
cannot be nullified by demonstrating the opposite position with
proofs which are equally invalid. Hence opponents are not to be
driven out of the field by demonstrations of immortality. But
one may, indeed, and without overstepping the bounds of a proper
use of reason, oppose to them an hypothesis which they cannot
refute, and which itself makes no claim to be theoretically demon-
strable. The Doctrine of Methods in the " Critique of Rea-
son " contains, in its section on the " Discipline of Pure Reason in
reference to Hypotheses," a most noteworthy and characteristic
passage, in which Kant commends to his adherents the doctrine
of immortality in just such an hypothetical form, in order that
they may make use of it in opposing their antagonists. " If, then,"
he says, u as opposing itself to the (in any other, not speculative
reference) assumed nature of the soul, as being something imma-
terial and not subject to bodily transformations, you should meet
with the difficulty of the argument, that experience, nevertheless,
seems to show that both the increased capacity and the derange-
ment of our mental powers are merely different modifications of
our organs, you can weaken the force of this proof by assuming
that our bodies are nothing but the fundamental phenomenon,
to which as condition the entire faculty of sense, and herewith all
thought, refers itself in the present state (life). The separation
from the body would then be the end of this sensible use of your
faculty of knowledge, and the beginning of the intellectual. The
body would consequently not be the cause of thought, but merely
an impeding condition of it, and hence to be regarded, indeed, as
a furthering of sensible and animal life, but yet just in such nieas-
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 183
ure as also an hindrance to pure, spiritual life. Thus the de-
pendence of the animal life upon the bodily constitution proves
nothing as to the dependence of the mental life upon the state of
our organs. But you might go even farther and trace out some
new query, which has been as yet either unsuggested or not suffi-
ciently pursued. The fortuity of generation, for example — de-
pending, as it does, with man as well as with the non-rational
creatures, upon circumstance, and even upon sustenance, upon
management, its humors and caprices, and often indeed upon vice
— throws a great difficulty in the way of the notion of the lasting
existence of a creature whose life began under such trifling and
contingent circumstances. This difficulty, however, has little to
do with the question of the permanence (here upon earth) of the
whole race, since the contingency in individual cases is neverthe-
less on that account subject to general rule. But to expect in
reference to every individual such a far-reaching effect from so in-
significant conditions, seems certainly questionable. But in oppo-
sition to this query you could offer a transcendental hypothesis,
that all life is strictly only intelligible; that it is not subject to
time-mutations; that it neither has a beginning in birth, nor will
find an end in death ; that this life is nothing hat a pure phenome-
non — *. e., a sensuous idea of the pure, spiritual life ; that the en-
tire sense-world is merely an image, which hovers before us on
account of our present faculty of knowledge, and which, like a
dream, has no objective reality in itself; that if we were to per-
ceive things and ourselves as they are, we should see ourselves in
a world of spiritual natures, our only true intercourse with which
neither began at birth, nor will cease with the death of the body
(as mere phenomenon). Now, although we do not hww the least
thing of all this which we here offer as a defence against our oppo-
nents, nor even maintain it in earnest — it is all by no means an
Idea of the reason, but merely a notion thought out as a weapon
of defence — we are, nevertheless, proceeding in strict accordance
with reason, since we only show the opponent, who thinks to have
exhausted all the possibilities of the matter by erroneously declar-
ing that the want of its empirical conditions is a proof of the per-
fect impossible of what is believed by us, that he can just as little
span, by the mere laws of experience, the entire field of possible
things considered in themselves as we outside of experience can
184 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
achieve anything in a well-founded way for our reason. Whoever
resorts to such hypothetical remedies for the assumptions of an
over-confident disputant must not be held responsible for them,
as if they were his own real opinions. He abandons them as soon
as he has silenced the dogmatic presumption of his antagonist.
For, however modest and moderate it certainly is, when one mere-
ly objects to or disagrees with the views of another, it always be-
comes, just as soon as one would have his objections recognized
as proofs of the opposite, a no less arrogant and presuming
claim than if he had made a direct attack upon the position of
the affirmative party." 1
It will not be difficult to determine in this hypothesis regarding
immortality what is to be ascribed to the theoretical mode of con-
ception and the method of Kant, and what to be regarded as his
own most inward conviction. Conviction it plainly is — based
upon the new doctrine of the ideality of time and the sense-world
— that our sense-life has the character of a mere phenomenon, and
that our intelligible being is independent of all time, hence time-
less and free, eternal and immortal. If the sense-world were
nothing but a dream that floated before us, or a scene which we
contemplated like a theatrical performance, then it is self-evident
that we should survive this passive state of imagination ; for the
end of the dream is not that of the dreamer, nor the end of the
play that of the spectator. But the matter is not so simple. We
are not only perceptive of the sense- world, but active in it; not
merely spectators in the world's theatre, but actors as well. In
other words, the world has no place for spectators but the stage ;
this is the scene where we live and act, where we appear as per-
formers, and at the same time contemplate and recognize our own
performance. Here, accordingly, actor and spectator are in so far
one that, when the looker-on ceases to be a performer, he also
ceases to be a looker-on. With our existence in the sense-world,
our contemplation of things, and even the appearance of things,
vanishes. With our sense-life our sensuous thought perishes, and
together with it that knowledge the ground-forms of which are
space and time. Corresponding to our timeless being there is the
state of timeless knowing, or of that intellectual perception which
1 Kant: "Kr. d. r. Vernunft. Methodenlehre," Part I, sec. 3. (Werke, vol. ii, pp.
583-585.) Cf. Fischer: "Gesch. d. n. Philos.," vol. iii, pp. 530, 531.
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 185
has immediate knowledge of the inner nature of tilings. It is this
organ of knowledge which Kant means when, in the passage cited
above, he sanctions the assertion that " our body is nothing but
the fundamental phenomenon, to which, as condition, the entire
faculty of sense, and herewith all thinking, relates itself in the
present state"; that " the separation from the body is the end of
the sensible use of our faculty of knowledge and the beginning of
the intellectual " ; and that, " If we were to perceive ourselves
and things as they are, we should see ourselves in a world of
spiritual natures." If, now, timeless knowing can belong, as Kant
elsewhere teaches, 1 only to the Primitive Being, then the end of
our sensible existence is to be regarded as a return to God, and
our eternal or purely spiritual life as a life in God. With sensu-
ous thought all sensuous appetites must have disappeared, and
thereby that need of purification, on account of which Kant in his
practical doctrine of immortality demanded the endless duration
of our personal existence. Then purity w r ould not constitute the
problem and goal, but the condition and character of immortal
life. Schopenhauer rejects, along with the Kantian theism, the
doctrine of immortality which is expounded in the " Critique of
Practical Reason " as coinciding with the doctrine of retribution.
He affirms the immortality of our being on the ground of the
" Transcendental ^Esthetic." He says : " Would one demand, as
has so often happened, the permanence of individual conscious-
ness, in order to couple with it reward or punishment in a future
world, it would in fact only be a question of the compatibility of
virtue and selfishness. But these two will never embrace each
other ; they are diametrical opposites." " The adequate answer to
the question of the permanence of the individual after death lies
in Kant's great doctrine of the ideality of time, which proves it-
self just here especially fruitful, since, by a thoroughly theoretical,
yet well elucidated insight, it makes compensation for dogmas,
which lead on the one hand as well as on the other to absurdities,
and thus at a stroke does away with the most prolific of all meta-
physical questions. Beginning, end, permanence, are notions
which borrow their significance solely from time, and conse-
quently are valid only under the presupposition of the latter. But
1 Cf. supra, The Thing-in-itself.
186 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
time has no absolute existence, nor is it the sort or mode of being
per se of things, but merely the form of our knowledge of our own
existence and of that of all things ; and precisely on that account
it is very incomplete, and limited to mere phenomena." 2
Since, now, it is absolutely impossible for our reason as at pres-
ent constituted to form for itself an idea of the state of timeless
being and knowing, we must conclude that we cannot know any-
thing in the least of the life after death. It is desirable to note,
therefore, that Kant expressly declares that his hypothesis is not
intended to defend the dogma of immortality, but only to combat
the opponents of the dogma. Yet it remains very noteworthy that
Kant chose, as best illustrating the " hypotheses of pure reason "
which he permitted and justified for polemical use, precisely this
doctrine — the doctrine, namely, which exhibits our present exist-
ence as a mere phenomenon or sensuous idea of our eternal and in-
telligible life. If we compare the Kantian doctrine of immortality
as expressed in this hypothesis of pure reason with the same doc-
trine as a postulate of the practical reason, we see that eternal life
is there conceived as timeless, supersensible, and purely spiritual ;
here, on the contrary, as temporal, hence sensible, and needing
purification ; there it is regarded as completion, which we are to
conceive as a life in God ; iiere, on the other hand, as an endless
process of moral purification, subject to divine retribution. Ac-
cording to the first conception, our eternal life is independent of
time and space. What is called the state of the soul after death
is, for our present faculty of knowledge, mysterium magnum. And
"the tiresome query: When? Where? and How?" is herewith
forever silenced, since it is now senseless and absurd, seeking time-
less and spaceless existence in time and space. But, according to
the second conception, the soul is to continue its existence after
death, is to experience a series of progressive states of purification,
hence is to live on in time and the sense- world ; at a definite period
of time it must leave the body, seek a new place of abode, take
on a new form of life ; and since all this can only take place in
space and time, in the every-day world about us might it not
seem that, with ordinary sagacity, we ought to be able to detect its
hiddeu way ? The knowledge that the great Beyond must ever re-
a A. Schopenhauer: "Die Welt als Wille und Vorstelluug," vol. ii, fifth edition, p
564. Cf. his " Parerga und Paralipomena," vol. ii, fourth edition, § 13*7.
The Philosophy of Pessimism. 187
inain an unfathomable mystery to us is now no longer our posses-
sion, and we stand helpless, like Mephistopheles before the corpse
of Faust :
" Und wenn icli Tag und Stunden mich zerplage,
Warm ? Wie ? und Wo ? das ist die leidige Frage." '
THE PHILOSOPHY OF PESSIMISM.
BY ELLEN M. MITCHELL.
Never was the question, Is life worth living? discussed from
such various standpoints as at the present time. It is not a new
question, but the repetition of an old one, transferred from the
Orient to this Western world. There have been pessimists always,
but pessimism was never placed on a metaphysical basis, and for-
mulated into a system of philosophy, until this century. A pes-
simistic strain may be found in the literature of all ages — from the
complaints of Job and the words of the preacher in Ecclesiastes
to the pathetic melancholy of Shelley and Byron, of Heine and
Lamartine, and of the Italian Leoparcli. But it is a part of the
poet's endowment to feel deeply the sadder words of humanity,
and to give them titting and powerful expression. The evil which
he recognizes is subjective rather than objective, a shadow falling
athwart the sunshine of life, not the substance out of which it is
made.
Pessimism, as a philosophic doctrine, is something different from
this ; it not only accepts evil as a fact, but seeks to explain its
genesis and devise a scheme for its annihilation. Schopenhauer
is its chief exponent in modern times, and nothing is more won-
derful, as M. Caro has said, than this renaissance of Buddhistic
pessimism in the heart of Prussia. That three hundred millions
of Asiatics should drink, in long draughts, the opium of these fatal
doctrines which enervate and stupefy the will, is extraordinary
enough. But that an energetic, disciplined race, so strongly con-
1 " And though I fret and worry till I'm weary, .
When ? How ? and Where ? remains the fatal query."
Taylor's Translation. — Faust, Part II, Act V, Scene VI.
188 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
stituted for knowledge and for action, should welcome with enthu-
siasm the theories of despair revealed by Schopenhauer, seems at
first inexplicable. Their sinister influence has spread throughout
German)-, and has borne fatal fruit in the nihilism of Russia. In
Italy, the poet Leopardi was their prophet and precursor.
That the views of Schopenhauer were colored by his own pe-
culiar temperament and the circumstances of his life cannot be
doubted. His pessimistic system was rooted in the fibres of his
own gloomy nature, though a vigorous intellect gave it form and
coherence. He inherited from his father certain morbid tenden-
cies, and " loved to brood over human misery," says his mother.
She frankly confesses that she finds it difficult to live with him,
and that the better she knows him the more the difficulty increases.
"Your ill-humor," she writes, ''your complaints of things inevi-
table, your sullen looks, the extraordinary opinions you utter like
oracles none may presume to contradict — all this depresses and
troubles me without helping you. Your eternal quibbles, your
laments over the stupid world and human misery, give me bad
nights and unpleasant dreams." When he presented her a copy
of his first book, entitled "On the Fourfold Root of the Doctrine
of Sufficient Reason " {Die vierfache Wurzel desSatzes sum zurei-
chenden Grunde), she pretended to think it was a treatise for
apothecaries ! She was an authoress herself, and had just pub-
lished a volume of travels. Schopenhauer retorted by assuring
her that his book would be sold when even the lumber-room would
not contain a copy of hers. " But the whole edition of yours will
still be on hand," was her final shot. What a strange domestic
picture and commentary on the relation between mother and son !
Schopenhauer was not a lovable or attractive character. He was
cowardly and distrustful. The slighest noise at night made him
start and seize the loaded pistols ever at his side. He would not
trust himself to be shaved, and was so afraid of poison that he
always carried with him a leathern drinking cup. " It is safer
trusting fear than faith," he said.
The first volume of his great work, " Die Welt als Wille und
Vorstellung," was published in 1819, but received little recogni-
tion. It contains the basis and explanation of his pessimism. Its
fundamental thesis is as follows : All is will in nature and in man,
hence all is suffering. One must understand what Schopenhauer
The Philosophy of Pessimism. 189
means by Will in order to interpret his philosophic system. Will,
as he uses the word, is without moral significance ; it is force, " the
ultimate and onward-moving spring of all things." At first it is
a blind, unconscious impulse awaking in the depths of eternity,
and struggling forward through all the lower grades of existence
until it reaches human consciousness. This, according to Scho-
penhauer, is the supreme stage of misery. The animal has feel-
ing, and therefore suffers, but man alone knoivs that he suffers.
Human life is a continual struggle for existence with the certainty
of being vanquished. To live is to will ; to will is to suffer. For
will is striving, and striving is necessarily suffering. "All striv-
ing springs out of defect or discontent with one's condition, and is,
therefore, suffering until it is satisfied." No satisfaction is endur-
ing ; it is only the starting-point for a new striving. Suffering is
implied in development, because development springs from unrest
and dissatisfaction. Pleasure is negative, suffering is positive. "We
feel pain," says Schopenhauer, " but not painlessness ; we feel care,
but not freedom from care ; fear, but not security. The wish is
like hunger and thirst ; when it is fulfilled, it ceases to exist for
our sensibility. Only pain and want can be felt positively ; pleas-
ure and happiness are simply negative. The three greatest goods
of life — health, youth, and freedom — are not appreciated by us un-
til they have passed out of our possession." " Human life," he con-
tinues, "oscillates between pain and ennui, its two ultimate ele-
ments." Misery is the law of being, and the higher the being the
greater the misery. The sensibility to pain increases with civili-
zation. The progress of humanity is the progress of suffering ; the
world is growing worse instead of better.
Is there no escape from the gulf of wretchedness into which
Schopenhauer plunges the doomed race of man \ Is there no way
of deliverance from the evil of existence ? He proposes first some
provisional remedies that lessen but do not destroy the evil.
Through their instrumentality the unhappy slave of life can
emerge for a moment " out of the endless stream of willing," and,
forgetful of self, attain a certain degree of freedom and serenity.
In the delight that comes to us from the contemplation of beauty
in nature or art, the mind is free from will, from effort, from de-
sire, from suffering; dead to itself, it participates in the absolute,
in the eternity of the idea. It matters not whether one views a
190 The Journal of' Speculative Philosophy.
sunset from the windows of a prison or of a palace, so far as de-
light in its beauty is concerned. The accidents of this transitory
life, the role that one plays, and the daily torment that one suffers,
are forgotten ; the mind rises into a purely ideal realm where
there are neither prisons, nor prisoners, nor princes, nor palaces.
But this condition is momentary, and cannot be prolonged ; it is
opposed to the very nature of will. It is also limited to a few
chosen ones, and offers little consolation to the great mass of hu-
manity. Another remedy must be sought for the universal evil
of existence. Schopenhauer finds it, like the Buddhist, in the ab-
solute negation of desire, the cessation of will. Death does not
solve the problem. The suicide that one must commit is moral,
not physical ; it is not life, but the will to live that must be de-
stroyed. After struggling through all the grades of inorganic and
organic nature as a blind unconscious desire of life, the will reaches
consciousness of itself in the human brain, and must face the alter-
native that is to determine its destiny, its eternal misery or final
repose ; the affirmation or the negation of desire. Not only his
own future depends on the decision of man, but the future of the
universe. It is from him that nature awaits her redemption; he
is at once the priest and the victim.
But how is this redemption to be accomplished ? How is the
will to rise above its own blind impulsive nature and work out
the annihilation of desire? Schopenhauer answers as Buddha
answered : Through the effects of love and pity. The individual
must be carried out of himself, must cease to draw an egoistic
distinction between himself and others, must enjoy their pleasures
as he enjoys his own, must suffer from their sorrows as he suffers
from his own, must seize the being of the universe, and acknowl-
edge the nothingness of all struggle. In this way he attains to
resignation, a state of voluntary renunciation, the negation of the
will to live. Virtues are only virtues in so far as they are direct
or indirect means of self-renunciation ; morality is simply a grad-
ual extinction of all forms of desire, a persevering immolation of
the will that causes existence, and finally a philosophic negation
of existence itself. "Pity," says Schopenhauer, " is an astonish-
ing fact that effaces the line of demarkation between the me and
the not-me, so that the not-mebecomes in some fashion the me."
One involuntarily compares the ethical theories of Schopen-
The Philosophy of Pessimism. 191
hauer with his injustice and brutality toward adversaries, with his
chronic fury against human folly and an ungrateful public, with his
misanthropy and distrust of mankind. There was a man preach-
in<r disinterestedness and self-renunciation whose own heart was
eaten up with self-love. His philosophy, with the one exception
mentioned, where his theories are at variance with his practice
reflects his own unamiable character. It is as brutal as its author
in treating of woman and the passion of love. " The pessimism
of Buddha is a pessimism of pathos," says a recent writer, " while
that of Schopenhauer is one of despair. The one is a religion of
sorrow, the other a philosophy of ill-humor with the world."
What are we to think of Schopenhauer's theory of will? Has
his pessimism any ground in reason % Suppose life to be a cease-
less effort, as he assumes, might we not as well identify effort with
enjoyment as with suffering ? If we are essentially an activity,
the manifestation of that activity is in perfect harmony with our
nature ; why, then, should it result in pain ? " Effort in itself
in a healthy organism is joy," says M. Caro, in a critical review
of Schopenhauer's philosophy. An irresistible instinct, the in-
stinct of life, impels man toward action. The pessimistic school
misconceives this instinct, and declares that all action is suffering,
that effort is a pain, and that work is a curse. It kuows nothing
apparently of the pure joy resulting from the possession of an
energy that first conquers itself, and then conquers life in the
face of difficulties and obstacles. Work, self-activity, is the true
friend and consoler of man, raising him above his weaknesses, pu-
rifying and elevating his character, preserving him from tempta-
tions, and helping him to bear his burden even when it is heaviest.
Aside from its results, concentrated and directed energy is the
most intense of our pleasures, because it develops in us the senti-
ment of personality, struggling with obstacles, and triumphant
over nature. What ground, then, remains for the pessimism of
Schopenhauer if it can be proved that the action of will is not
identical with suffering, but, on the contrary, is the source of our
highest pleasures ?
There is space to note but one other point in Schopenhauer's
philosophy before passing on to the pessimism of Hartmann. The
sentiment of love, that sentiment which is capable of being trans-
figured from an animal instinct into the most heroic and ideal
192 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
disinterestedness, is brutally misinterpreted by Schopenhauer. He
knows nothing ofits sacred purity and divine renunciations, what-
ever he may say of pity. He omits from his theories all that might
soften and ennoble life, disclosing the narrowness and inferiority of
that point of view which one must take in order to declare that
life is not worth living.
Hartmann's pessimism resembles that of Schopenhauer so far
as it is derived from an irrational unconscious impulse working
through all things. He is classed by some critics as a disciple of
Schopenhauer, by others as an independent investigator. It was
in the nature of things, he tells us in his " Philosophy of the Un-
conscious " {PMlosophie des Unbewusten), that the pessimism of
Schopenhauer should find numerous disciples, but he is careful to
explain that his own views are independent and original. Lack of
self-esteem is not one of his failings any more than it was Scho-
penhauer's.
There are three possible forms of human illusion concerning
happiness. It may be conceived as a good to be attained here
upon earth by the actual individual ; or as a good to be realized
in a transcendental life after death ; or, finally, as an impersonal
good, the aim of the process of the world, the religion of human-
ity. Hartmann's attacks are directed chiefly against the first
form of illusion. He asserts that every pleasure is in itself weak
and transitory when compared with its corresponding pain. He
takes the two instincts that are said to move the world — hunger
and love — and compares their joys and miseries, declaring that the
latter far surpass the former in duration and depth of intensity.
After the savage treatment of love by Schopenhauer, and all the
ill that has been said of it by the poets and cynics throughout the
ages, it was reserved for Hartmann to group in one darkened mass
all the woes and deceptions of the heart without a single ray of
light to relieve the sombre picture.
The supposed advantages of human life he classifies as follows:
those which correspond to a state of pure indifference, and are
merely the absence of certain kinds of suffering, as health, youth,
material comfort ; those which are purely imaginative, as the
desire of wealth, of power, the sentiment of honor; those which
cause more suffering than pleasure, as hunger, love; those which
rest on illusions that intelligence will dissipate, as self-love, piety,
The Philosophy of Pessimism. 193
hope ; those which are clearly recognized as evils, but are accepted
in order to escape worse evils, as work, marriage ; those, finally,
which procure more pleasure than pain, but which are bought at
the cost of great suffering, and can only be shared by a few, as art
and science. The world in itself is utterly hopeless, according to
Hartmann. In spite of all reforms and increased intelligence, it
is worse than ever. One might sum up his philosophy in the
words " Curse God and die." No touch of compassion or human
sympathy relieves the picture that he draws. It almost seems as
if he felt a kind of cold joy in building up a logical system of
thought that will shatter every human hope and trust. But it is
time and labor lost ; he fails to convince us that we ought to be
miserable. He fails also in the balance that he draws between
pleasures and pains. Their quality is the only point of view from
which comparison is possible and quality cannot be reduced to a
mathematical formula. There are moments of happiness so intense
that one would give for them a lifetime of misery ; there are griefs
so bitter as to darken and overwhelm all compensating joys. There
is a subjective element of appreciation in pleasure and pain that
cannot be measured by any external standard. One man, strong
and healthy, delights in activity, in the exercise of his will, in
tig-htins against obstacles : another, timid and in delicate health,
shrinks from conflict and seeks repose. Who is to decide whether
the one state or the other is in itself absolutely a pain or a pleas-
ure ? From your standpoint my life may be miserable, but what
do I care if from mine it is happy \
Schopenhauer and Hartmann both neglect the real gist of the
matter, the absolute value of life in and for itself. If Kant is
right, if the world has only one explanation and one aim, if life is
a school of experience and of work where man has his task to ful-
fil outside of the pleasure he may take, if this task is the creation
of moral personality through the exercise of will, the point of view
changes, and the theories of pessimism are radically false.
The idea of the Unconscious plays a similar part in Hartmann's
philosophy to that of the Will in Schopenhauer's, though it would
be difficult to explain what is meant by it, or how it can be un-
conscious and at the same time endowed with wisdom and intel-
ligence. Hartmann represents it as the substance out of which the
world is made, and as the all-pervading power that guides its pro-
XX-13
194: The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
cess. Misery is the only result of its evolution, and, when at last
the misery culminates in human consciousness, there is but one
way of deliverance open, the suicide of the universe, to be achieved,
strangely enough, through moral conduct and the universal will of
humanity. This is Hartmann's solution for the evils of life, " cos-
mic suicide," " humanity hurling back into nothing the world pro-
cess." Could anything be imagined more fantastic or bizarre ?
Its jaunty affectation is wholly different from the gloom of Scho-
penhauer, which has at least the merit of reality, and gives a cer-
tain dignity to his pessimistic theories.
The question remains : What is the future of pessimism ? In
order to answer it, we have but to compare its doctrines with the
nature of the human will and of human activity. We have but
to see how it contradicts itself, how it distorts and misinterprets
the purest and highest of all spiritual forces — love, the power of
self-sacrifice. Standing half way between realism and positivism,
pessimism merely proves how impossible it is to banish from thought
that Divine Idea of the Absolute which has been the strength
and consolation of man throughout the ages. As a philosophic
system, pessimism may from time to time exert a momentary
influence in the world's history. But it will not endure ; the du-
ties of each day, useful and necessary activity, will dissipate its
evil dreams and save humanity. The question is not simply one
of happiness and misery, but of right and wrong. Philosophy
must observe this distinction, or, failing to satisfy our highest
needs and aspirations, it will lead to spiritual sterility and spirit-
ual death.
ON THE SYMBOLIC SYSTEM OF LAMBEKT.
BY JOSEPH JASTROW.
J oh. Heinr. Lambert (1728-1777) was a logician of no mean
rank, as his influence on German thought has shown ; it was he
whom Kant called " der nnvergleichlicher Mann." His first logic-
al work was " Neues Organon oder Gedanken fiber die Erforschung
und Bezeichnung des Wahren und dessen Unterscheidung vom
On the Symbolic System of Lambert. 195
Irrthum und Schein " (Leipzig, 1764) ; this was followed by an
article in the " Nova Acta Eruditornm," in 1765. His later
writings are, " Anlage zur Architectonik " (1771) ; " Logische und
philosophische Abhandlungen " and " Deutscher gelehrter Brief-
wechsel," both published posthumously in 1781. I have only had
access to the " Neues Organon," and the object of this note is to
review his system as there set forth. I have availed myself of Mr.
Venn's copious notes (Symbolic Logic) ; Hamilton (Lectures on
Logic) and Thomson (Laws of Thought) also have some references.
The opening chapter of the second volume contains Lambert's
general idea of a symbolic system, under the title " Von der sym-
bolischen Erkenntniss uberhaupt." The origin of symbolism is
in language. The different languages are so many symbolic sys-
tems. Each word must be a symbol of something ; if this is not
so, there results, not knowledge, but a word-cram. The ideal
system is one in which the signs of the concepts and the things
perfectly correspond, so that one can be put for the other. For
this it is necessary that the relations involved by the things should
also be involved in the signs. Music-notes, the points of the com-
pass, the signs of the zodiac, those of astronomy (° ' "), of chem-
istry, etc., etc., are examples of symbolic methods. Arithmetic,
however, is a more remarkable one : " For it is no small thing to
express by means of ten figures — or in the Leibnitzian ' Dyadik,
of two — all possible numbers, and to perform all calculations, and
that too, in such a mechanical way that it can be done by machines,
such as Pascal, Leibnitz, Ludolf, and others have invented. In this
we reduce the theory of the things to that of the signs ; and we are
so used to this that the numbers soon come to be regarded as noth-
ing but signs, while in fact they are concepts of relations" (§ 34).
Algebra is the most perfect system, because its own theory is a sym-
bolic art. For "if you reduce a problem from another science to
an algebraic one, you can abstract from the former, and the solu-
tion of the algebraic problem will also be that of the other. There
are two kinds of symbols in algebra, the letters of the quantities
and the operation symbols for expressing relations ; the one is an
" Allgemeine Zeichenkunst," the other " Verbindungskunst der
Zeichen." The introduction of the latter, says Mr. Venn, marks
the real turning-point in symbolic logic. Lambert conceives the
object of this art to be the determination of possible combinations,
196 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
the degree of their validity, of their mutual relations, and the laws
of their interchange, etc. (§ 41).
Symbols are either natural or artificial ; smoke as a sign of fire,
the symptoms of a disease are natural signs ; the tolling of bells
an artificial one. Ordinary symbols are more or less arbitrary ;
mere imitation may be the natural element. Even in algebraic
equations we can introduce the conception of a pair of scales with
equal weights on its arms. 1 What the signs do not of themselves
indicate, the doctrine about them must show ; and the signs will be
the more complete the closer they follow the fact. Signs are more
scientific, however, the better they mark the conditions, etc., de-
termined by the things themselves which the sign marks. Thus,
in algebra, the problem, when completely solved, tells not only
what the answer is, but all the circumstances, whether more an-
swers than one, what data are superfluous or wanting, and, if the
solution is impossible, tells where it begins to be so, and so on.
Let this suffice to show that Lambert had worked out a theory
of symbolism, both interesting and valuable, and that his system
of logical notation, being comprehended, like that of Leibnitz,
under this more general symbolism, could not fail to be related to
that other important symbolic system, mathematics. Lambert's
logical system is extremely complete and original. He recognizes
the importance of the natural element (for on this he bases the dis-
tinction of the four figures of syllogism) ; he lays stress on the
importance of induction and of the theory of probabilities, and
has himself worked out the elementary departments of each.
Speaking in general of symbolic logic, Mr. Venn says : " To my
thinking, he and Boole stand quite supreme in this subject in the
way of originality ; and, if the latter had knowingly built on the
foundation laid by his predecessor instead of beginning anew for
himself, it would ■ be hard to say which of the two had actually
done the most " (p. xxxii, op. tit.). Hamilton's verdict is in sin-
gular opposition. After enumerating eight objections (with one
exception these objections stated are to be either (1), misconcep-
tions of Lambert ; or (2), matters of opinion in which a great deal
can be said for Lambert ; or (3), Hamiltonian peculiarities), he
1 Is it not just such conceptions and illustrations which are so valuable for educational
purposes ? To reduce to terms of sight what is expressed in terms of thought is the germ
of this symbolic procedure.
On the Symbolic System of Lambert. 197
words the ninth thus : " Lambert — but it is needless to proceed.
What has already been said shows that Lambert's scheme of linear
notation is, in its parts, a failure, being only a corruption of the
good and a blundering and incongruous jumble of the natural and
conventional. The only marvel is, how so able a mathematician
should have propounded two such worthless mathematical meth-
ods. But Lambert's geometrical is worse even than [his] alge-
braic 1 notation " (p. 66S, op. cit. New York, 1809). To Hamil-
ton "mathematical" and "worthless" seem almost identical in
the system of Logic. Mr. Venn's criticism of Hamilton's scheme
is this (p. 432) : " It has been described (by himself) as ' easy,
simple, compendious, all-sufficient, consistent, manifest, precise,
complete, the corresponding antithetic adjectives being freely ex-
pended in the description of the schemes of those who had gone
before him. To my thinking, it does not deserve the rank as a dia-
grammatic scheme at all, though he does class it with the others
as ' geometric ; ' but it is purely symbolical. What was aimed at
in the methods above described was something that should explain
itself, as in the circles of Euler, or need but a hint of explanation,
as in the lines of Lambert. But there is clearly nothing in the
two ends of a wedge to suggest subjects and predicates, or in a
colon and comma to suggest distribution and non-distribution."
Every diagrammatic scheme must be somewhat symbolic ; it is all
a question of degree and of naturalness, and in both these respects
Hamilton's goes beyond the boundaries of legitimacy.
Lambert's first notation was the linear, and of that I will o-ive
some account. Every notion has some extension. Let a series
of dots denote individuals, and the line will denote the notion
(vol. i, p. 110). The relative length of the lines is not entirely
arbitrary ; the real length is. If our knowledge were more per-
fect, these lengths would be more definite. This perfection is,
however, ideal. To this Mr. Venn objects (op. cit., p. 430). " Thus
Lambert certainly seems to maintain that in strictness we must
suppose each line to bear to any other the due proportionate length
assigned by the extension of the terms." But Lambert's " in strict-
ness" means in an ideal world where we had perfect knowledge.
That for us the lengths of these lines are entirely arbitrary, Jie dis-
1 It should be said that Mr. Venn treats almost entirely of the algebraic notation.
198 The Journal of /Speculative Philosophy.
tinctly says. The " due proportionate length" has also no refer-
ence to feet and inches. It means that, if we compare A and C
with B, B is a sort of a standard for A and C, and if A is found to
contain B, and B to contain C, their relative lengths are deter-
mined. Mr. Venn adds : " In the latter part of the " Neues Or-
ganon " — where he is dealing with cpiestions of probability, and
the numerically, or rather proportionately, definite syllogism —
the length of the lines which represent the extent of the concepts
becomes very important. So little was he prepared to regard the
diagram as referring solely to the purely logical considerations of
presence and absence, of class characteristics, of inclusion and ex-
clusion of classes by one another." I cannot find any diagrams
in the chapter on Probability that present this feature ; if he had
used diagrams, he would have done what Mr. Yenn objects to.
But the proportionately definite syllogism and probability are not
purely logical considerations, and what the length of the lines
would denote would not be a logical but a mathematical concep-
tion. To this I can see no objection.
Lambert J expresses " All A is B " by * , or
' ' * ' . " ' * in the former case B is definite, in the
latter not. "We can write the converse thus, -d __, ,
showing that it is undetermined whether "all B is A," but that
surely " some B is A." But we need no separate diagram for the
converse ; we drop the distinction of subject and predicate and
read the diagram in any order. The metaphor here is that of one
concept being conceived under another. Of course, this is little
more than a play upon words ; Lambert regards it just as he does
the idea of a pair of scales for the equation. " No A is B " :
A -a B b, or ... A B b . . .
if indeterminate ; and the converse is evidently true, No B is A.
Some A is B. . , in which it is undetermined whether
All A is B or All B is A. It may be written B A b ,
and sometimes A , the last pointing to a Univ.
. . . .a. a . . .
J Vol. i, p. 112, sqq.
On the Symbolic System of Lambert. 199
B b
Aff. as the converse. " Some A is not B"
.A
It may be » or . •**' '. Here I must
dispute a statement of Mr. Yenn {op. cit., p. 431). Speaking of
the employment of dotted lines to express indeterminateness, he
says : But when he comes to extend this to particular proposi-
tions, his use of dotted lines ceases to be consistent or even, to me,
intelligible. One would have expected him to write " some A is
B-
B " thus, . ' ' ' , for, by different filling in of the lines,
we could cover the case of there being " B which is not A," and
so forth. But he does draw it » , which might consist-
ently be interpreted to cover the case of " no A is B," as well as
suggesting the possibility of there being " no A at all." Lambert
does give the form that one would expect him to give, and he does
not give the other; for he expressly says that, by putting the letter
A under B, we are sure of having at least one individual A which
is B. You have no right to put the A outside of B. These forms,
says Lambert, show not only the necessary differences between
two propositions, but also how far the converse is true, and how
far true when conditions are changed, and how determinate the
conclusion is. There is no necessary order of the lines nor of sub-
ject and predicate. If a genus A has three species, B, C, D, we
a : a
would write -o i p -p. j where the lengths
of the lines are arbitrary. Disjunctives cannot be expressed at
all, since they tell nothing positive. A is either B or C. This
only says " No B is C." Conjunctives can be written : A is B
.... C c
and C ... . B— -b. . . . , which shows that A is B as well
A — a
as C, that some B is C and some C, B. The copulative A, as
c
well as B is C, can be written in two parts, thus: »
-,, , . If we write both under one line, we do not know
B b '
C • — c
whether to put them beside or above another. B b or
A — a
200 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
C c c c
B b or j^ -g i , where all, some, and no AisB.
.... A ....
If we know this we can select our form.
....P P....
Barbara will be M— — M , which gives — (1) Some
S— S
M is S ; (2) some P is M ; (3) some P is S ; (4) all S is P. The
problem is, whether, by drawing the lines representing the premises,
you condition the lines representing (not one, but) all the conclu-
sions. He then develops all the moods and figures according to
this scheme ; but it would be tedious to follow him there. There
are several objections to this scheme ; one, Lambert himself has
pointed out, viz., that it cannot represent disjunctives. How to
represent disjunctives diagrammatically, I do not know. Let us
approach the question this way : every diagrammatic system is
intimately connected with the material view of logic. If every
logical expression stands for a state of affairs, why should that
state of affairs not be capable of being diagrammatically expressed,
or, so to speak, painted ? The answer is evident. A is either
B or C does represent a state of affairs, but one in which the sub-
jective element is not entirely eliminated. It is the ball in the
air which is going to fall on one of two places, /don't know which.
In point of fact, objective causes have settled on what spot the
ball is going to fall, but I am in doubt ; and doubt is subjective.
Lambert expressed his reason thus : that, after putting B and C
aside of each other, you have nothing but a conditional to tell
you whether to put A under B or under C. Another difficulty is
to make " Some A is B " and " Some A is not B " perfectly dis-
tinct. This Lambert does by the position of the letter A and the
dots as marks of indeterminateness, which latter is symbolic rath-
er than diagrammatic. There is, however, no objection to this,
per se. But it leads to a plurality of forms, according to the dif-
ferent ways of filling out the dots, which is confusing. Hamilton *
accuses him of making one diagram answer for two syllogisms.
Thus, he says, Datisi, Disamis, Bocardo are the same. The only
difference between Disamis and Datisi is in the order of the premi-
ses ; and this Lambert properly expresses by the different positions
1 P. 670.
On the Symbolic System of Lambert. 201
of B and C. That Bocardo is the same is one of Hamilton's
B- -b
mistakes. Lambert gives Disamis M m , and Bocardo
B b ...C
M m m Where the important difference is, that, in the
O
latter case, it is determinate in one direction, and in that direc-
tion we find the M and the B, that is not C. It cannot be too
strongly maintained that Hamilton's criticisms are very unjust.
As I admitted before, these different positions of the dots are con-
fusing. The chief value of the scheme is its completeness, and its
strict adherence to the rule that the lines representing the premise
determine the conclusion. Of more value still are the general
principles of which this scheme is an outcome ; besides, if his alge-
braical method is valuable, this borrows some of its worth, since it
is in this that the germs of the former are to be found.
It would seem that, since Lambert gives up the distinction of
subject and predicate, he ought also to neglect the figures, and
formally he does. But he claims that the distinction of figures is
a natural one; they have different uses, and each has its dictum.
For the first figure : Dictum de omni et Nullo. What is true of
all A, is true of every A. For the second figure: Dictum de
Diverse). Things which are different are not attributes of each
other. For the third figure : Dictum de Exemplo. When we
find things A which are B, in that case some A are B. For the
fourth figure : Dictum de Beciproco. I. If No M is B, then no
B is this or that M. II. If C is [or is not] this or that B, in that
case some B are [or are not] C. 1
Let us follow out another part of Lambert's Logic which is inti-
mately connected with his later doctrines. Starting from the fact
that from two particulars no conclusion follows, he notes that, if
the " some " is the same " some " in both, we get a conclusion ; for
then we really have, not an indefinite some A, but a new term,
mA. On this principle we treat singulars as universals, because
1 I should add Thomson's note (p. 173, op. cit.). "But Mr. Mill is in error, shared by
Buhle (Geschichte, vi, 543), and Troxler (Logik, ii, p. 62), in thinking that Lambert in-
vented these dicta. More than a century earlier Keckermann saw that each Figure had
its own law and its peculiar use, and stated them as accurately, if less concisely than
Lambert. Keckermann, however, ignored the 4th Figure, and Lambert's explanation of
that may be new.
202 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
they are perfectly definite, e. g., "The earth is inhabited," "the
earth is a planet .\ (at least) one planet is inhabited." He com-
pletes his scheme by considering the effect of one premise being-
false. In his chapter on problems there is much of interest. If
all A are B then also mi are B, and all mA will be mB. All
triangles are figures ; all right-angled triangles are right-angled
figures. But can you get A is B from mA is mB, as well as mA
is mB from A is B (a step analogous to multiplication in algebra) ?
You can get mA is B, but whether m can be dropped from the sub-
ject is another question. If our language were strictly logical, we
could. We sometimes conclude that all mA is m, neglecting the
principal notion B. If you have mA is nA, you can get mA is n,
but it is uncertain whether n belongs to A or m or mA. Then
follows an interesting study of the method of generalizing prob-
lems. His problems are solved mostly by the means of the identity
A is A, and the principle that mA is m and mA is A ; they are
mostly theoretical, bearing on the relation between data and qna?-
sita. I will close this very brief sketch by summing up his chapter
on Probability. A is f B means that A has £ of the marks of B.
| A is B means that £ of the A's are B's. Af is B means that the
f A are B )
probability is £ that A is B. A simple case is C is A > , which
.-. C£ is B )
shows where the probability comes in, and how much it is. If we
have the second premise, all C is A, the conclusion will be, all
C£ are B ; if some C is A, then the conclusion will be indefinite ;
f A are B )
if the some is definite, we have |C are A > . In all these cases,
f C | are B J
the probability of the conclusion arises from the major premise.
We will now consider the case in which it arises from the minor
premise. MNPQ are marks of B, then B is INPQ. Now
CisMN P, then probably C is B. If the marks M N P Q = A,
and MKP = |A, then we have All A is B, C is |A .'. Cf is B.
f A are B 1
The next form is obtained by compounding these two : C is f A V .
.-. C£ is B )
If we make the major negative, we would have ^A are not B.
C is $ A .•. C£ is not B. Then £C are B, •§- are not B, and the
other 4- are undetermined. We see all along how carefullv he
On the Symbolic System of Lambert. 203
distinguishes between probability of intension and of extension.
The intension probability becomes the formula for induction.
Let a be the affirmative, e the negative, and u the undetermined
part of the probability, then we would have a case such as this :
(fa + £e + T Vu)A are B ; C is (fa+fu)A .-. C(|a + ^e + ^u) is B ;
which means that, of 20 cases, C will be B 8 times, will not be B
3 times, and will remain doubtful 9 times ; or in any one case
there are 8 chances of finding the Ca B, 3 of not finding it aB,
and 9 chances of its remaining doubtful. The multiplication is
algebraic ; remembering that anything containing u belongs under
u, and that ae belongs under e. £ A^- is f B. Ay 1 -^ is B, because,
when interpreted, they represent the same state of affairs. This
sort of probable reasoning is not confined to two premises by any
means. In general, if mA are B, nA are C. Where n>m, then
(1) (n-m)A will be C but not B ; (2) if m + n >1, then (m + n-l)A
are B and C, or if m + n<l, then (1- n-m)A are neither B nor C.
He develops this method, using figures and words, and applies it
to the calculation of the probability of testimony, and so on.
If we view these doctrines in the light of recent logical ones,
they lose a great deal of their value, but little of their interest.
The doctrine that a particular cannot be obtained from a univer-
sal will invalidate many of his diagrams ; and other results of
more general methods render any such treatment superfluous. His
merit consists in having so clearly grasped the principles on which
all such investigation depends. But Lambert did not stop here.
The " Neues Organ on " was only his first work ; and, according to
Mr. Venn, all his best symbolic speculations are to be found in the
later works, particularly the " Logische Abhandlungen." I will
conclude by giving Mr. Venn's summary of Lambert's speculations
as derived from the later works (" Symbolik Logik," p. xxxii, sqq.).
"Summarily stated, then, Lambert had got as far as this. He
fully realized that the four algebraic operations of addition, sub-
traction, multiplication, and division, have each an analogue in
logic ; that they may there be respectively termed aggregation
[Zusammensetzung], separation [Absonderung], determination
[Bestimmung], and abstraction [Abstraction], and be symbolized
by +, — , x, -f- - 1 He also perceived the inverse nature of the
1 By mistake + is printed instead of
2 04 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
second and fourth as compared with the first and third; 1 and no
one could state more clearly that we must not confound the mathe-
matical with the logical signification. 2 He enunciates with per-
fect clearness the principal logical laws, such as the commutative,
the distributive, and the associative, 3 and (under restrictions to be
presently noticed) the special law 4 A A = A. He develops simple
logical expressions precisely as Boole does, 5 though without assign-
ing any generalized formulae for the purpose.
"He fully understood that the distinctive merit of such a sys-
tem was to be found in its capacity of grappling with highly com-
plicated terms and propositions ; and he accordingly applies it
to examples which, however simple they may seem to a modern
symbolist, represent a very great advance beyond the syllogism. 6
Moreover, in this spirit of generalization, he proposed an ingen-
ious system of notation, of a 1 and description, for the 2 n com-
binations which may be yielded by the introduction of n class
terms or attributes. 7 Hypothetical proportions he interpreted and
1 "Die Operationen + und — sind einander entgegengesetzt und sie leiden einerlei
Verwechselungen wie in der Algeber." ("Logische Abliandl.," ii, p. 62.)
2 " Wir haben die Beweise der Zeiehnungsart kurz augezeigt, die Zeichen selbst aus
der Algeber genommen, und nur ihre Bedeutung allgemeiner gemacht.'' (Ibid., i, 37.)
3 " Da man in vielen Sprachen das Adjectivuin vor- und nachsetzen kann, so ist es
auch einerlei ob man nR oder Rn setzt." (Ibid, i, p. 150.) " Da es in der Zeichenkunst
einerlei ist ob man a + b oder b + a setzt." (Ibid., i, p. 33.) " Will man aber setzen
(m -f- n) A, so ist dieses = mA -+- nA. Es sei m = n + p + q. Und A = B + C + D + E-
So hat man mA = (n + p + q) (B + C -f D +■ E). . . ."
4 " Man kann zu einem Begriffe nieht Merkmale hinzusetzen die er schon hat . . .
weil man sonst sagen konnte eisernes Eisen." (Ibid., ii, p. 133.) The reason why he
did not admit this law universally was (as presently noticed), that he endeavored to make
his formulae cover relations as well as common logical predications. This comes out clearly
in the following passage : " Wenn der Begriff = a ist, ay das Geschlecht, 07° ein hoheres
Geschlecht, oS der Unterschied, a5 n ein hoherer Unterschied, ay + aS = a, dieErklarung
(o7 + o5) n oder o (7+5)°, eine hohere Erklarung," i. e, a being a true logical class-term
o" = o; but 7, being a relative term, 7° does not = 7. (Ibid., p. 133.)
5 His formula is a = ax 4- a I x (where a I x means a not-x, viz., our ax). He also
has x + y = 2xy + x | y + y I x ; just as Boole develops the expression.
6 Take, for instance, the following: F :: H = S :: (P 4- G) :: V (A + C + Se) as ex-
pressive of " Die Glukseligkeit des Menschen besteht in der Empfindung des Besitzes
und Genusses der Volkommeuheiten des innerlichen und ausserlichen Zustandes." The
sign :: here denotes a relation. (Ibid., i, p. 56.)
7 His scheme is this : Let 1 represent the presence and the absence of the attri-
bute. If we keep the order in which the terms stand in our expression unaltered, 10101
and 10111 will take the place of what we might indicate by xyzwv and xyzwv. He
On the Symbolic System of Lambert. 205
represented precisely as we should. 1 Still more noteworthy is the
fact, that in one passage, at least, he recognized that the inverse
process marked by division is an indeterminate one. 2 These are
the main truths of this kind which Lambert had seized. What-
ever the defects and limitations in their expression, they represent
a very remarkable advance on anything known to have been done
before him. Where he mainly went astray was, I think, in the
following respects : Though he realized very clearly that logical
division is the inverse of multiplication, he failed to observe the
indefinite character commonly assumed by inverse operations ;
that is, he failed to observe it except in certain special cases, as
just pointed out.
"He regarded the inverse as being merely the putting back a
thing, so to say, where it was before, 3 and accordingly omitted
altogether that surplus indefinite term yielded by logical division,
and which is so characteristic of Boole's treatment. Probably no
logician before Boole (with the very doubtful exception of H. Grass-
mann) ever conceived a hint of this, as not many after him seem
to have understood or appreciated it. As a consequence of this,
Lambert too freely uses mathematical rules which are not justifi-
able in logic. For instance, from AB = CD he assumes that we
may conclude A : C = D : B.
then compares the extent to which various complex terms thus agree with each other
or differ. He also employs the slightly more convenient notation of letters and their
negation, thus : ABC, ABO, AGO, and so on, to stand for our ABC, ABC, ABC. (Ibid.,
ii, 134.) Of course there are great imperfections in such a scheme."*
1 " Die allgemeinste Formel der hypothetischen Siitze ist diese, wenn A ein B ist, so ist
es C. Diese Formel kann allezeit mit den folgeuden verwechselt werden ; alles A so B ist
ist C. Nun ist alles A so B ist = AB. Folglich, alles AB ist C. Daher die Zeichnung
AB > C oder AB = mC." {Ibid, i, 128.)
2 " Wenn X7 = 07, so ist x = 077 = a— . Aber deswegen nicht allezeit x = o ;
7
sondern nur in einem einzigen Falle, weil x und a zwei verschiedene Arten von dem Ge-
schlecht X7 oder 07 sein konnen. Wenn aber X7 = ay nicht weiter bestimmt wird, so
kann man unter andern auch x = a setzen." (Ibid., i, 9.) (As this expressly refers to
relative terms only, it is not at variance with the note below, at p. 80.)
3 " Auch ist klar dass man sich dabei Operationen muss gedenken konnen, wodurch
die veranderte Sache in den vorigen Stand konnte hergestellt werden. Diese Wieder-
herstellung giebt demnoch den Begriff der reciproken Operationen, dergleichen im Calcul
+ und — , x und -*-." (Ibid., ii, p. 50.)
* Judging from the extract in Johns Hopkins University Circular, No. 10, p." 131, this
seems to be similar to Dr. Franklin's scheme.
206 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy,
" Another point that misled Lambert was the belief that his
rules and definitions would cover the case of relative terms. 1 . . .
I think it a mistake to endeavor thus to introduce relative terms ;
but, if we do so, we must clearly reject the law that x 2 = x, in the
case of such terms.
; 'In thus realizing what Lambert had achieved, the reader must
remember that he by no means stood alone. Two of his friends
or correspondents — Plonquet and Holland — are worthy coadjutors ;
and such logical writings as they have left behind are full of inter-
esting suggestions of a similar kind. . . . These men all took their
impulse from Leibnitz and Wolf."
GIOKDAXO BKFXO.
TRANSLATED FROM HEGEL'S "HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY," BY EDWIN D. MEAD.
Giordano Bruno was one of those restless, troubled, seething
spirits, like Cardan us, Campanella, and Vanini, who appeared in
Italy in the sixteenth century. He utterly rejected all the old
catholic reliance on authority, and fell back boldly upon his own
reason. His memory has been revived in these later times by
Jacobi, who appended an extract from one of Bruno's works to
his " Letters on Spinoza." Jacobi drew special attention to him
by his assertion that the sum and substance of his doctrine was
the same as Spinoza's " One and All," or pantheism — a compari-
son which lifts Bruno to a position really above that to which he
is justly entitled.
Bruno's life was perhaps a steadier and quieter life than that of
Cardanus ; but he, too, had no fixed abiding place in the world.
He was born at Nola, near Naples, some time in the sixteenth
century, the exact year not being known. 2 He became a Domini-
can monk, but quickly had occasion to speak out upon the gross
1 " Unter den Begriffen M = A : B, komnien einige vor, die sehr allgemein sind. Da-
hin rechnen wir die Begriffe ; Ursache, Wirkung, Mittel, Absicht, Grand, Art, Gattung."
(Architectonik, i, 82.)
2 About 1548.— Tr.
Giordano Bruno. 207
ignorance and the wicked lives of the monks, besides expressing
himself very sharply and bitterly upon many of the dogmas of the
church, transubstantiation, the immaculate conception of the Vir-
gin, etc. ; and, while still young, he left Italy and commenced his
life of wandering about the various European countries — France,
England, Germany — teaching philosophy. First, in 1582, 1 he
went to Geneva ; but here he incurred the displeasure of Calvin
and Beza, in the same way that he had incurred the displeasure
of the Italian church authorities, finding it impossible to live with
them. Then he resided in various French cities, Lyons among
others, finally coming to Paris, where, in 15S5, he made a formal
stand against the Aristotelians, proposing for public discussion,
accordiug to the custom of the times, certain philosophical theses
directed especially against Aristotle. These were published in
1588, under the title : " Jord. Brum Nol. Rationes articulorum
physicorum ad versus Peripateticos Parisiis propositorum, Vite-
bergse apud Zachariam Cratonem," 1588. His work, however,
made no impression, the Aristotelians being still too firmly seat-
ed. Bruno also visited London, Wittenberg (in 1586), Prague,
and other universities and cities. He was warmly favored and as-
sisted by the Countess of Brunswick-Liineburg at Helmstadt in
1589. Then he went to Frankfort-on-the-Main, where several of
his works were printed. He was a wandering professor and au-
thor. At last, in 1592, he returned to Italy, lived undisturbed for
a time at Padua, but was finally apprehended by the Inquisition
at Venice, placed in confinement, and sent to Rome ; and here, in
the year 1600, refusing to retract what he had written, he was
burned at the stake for heresy. He met his death, as Scioppius
and other witnesses inform us, with the utmost fortitude and
heroism.
Bruno had become a Protestant in Germany, and broken his
vow as a monk. But among Catholics and Protestants alike his
writings were pronounced heretical and atheistic, and were burned
or somehow exterminated or concealed. His writings are there-
fore very seldom found together. The largest collection of them
is in the university library at Gottingen ; the most detailed ac-
count of them is to be found in Buhle's "History of Philosophy."
1 Others put it as early as 1577. — Tr.
208 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
The works are generally rare in libraries, often prohibited ; in
Dresden they still belong among the interdicted books, and are
not shown. An edition of Bruno's Italian works has recently
been prepared, though it may not yet be published. 1 He wrote
very much also in Latin. In every place where he stayed for any
length of time, he held public lectures and wrote and published
books ; the fact that his different books were published in so many
different places is one reason why it is so hard to get full knowl-
edge of them. Many of his works have essentially the same con-
tent, though in somewhat varying form; and in the evolution of
his thought there does not appear any regular and definite advance.
What chiefly and peculiarly impresses us in his sundry and mani-
fold writings is the beautiful inspiration of a noble soul, that feels
the indwelling of the Spirit, and sees the unity of its being and all
being as the total life of thought. There is something almost bac-
chanalian in the way in which this profound consciousness takes
hold of things ; it seems to overflow, in order to become its own
object and describe its own wealth. But it is only by science and
in the form of science that the mind can produce and express itself
as a totality ; when this scientific culture has not yet been attained,
the mind reaches about in and after all sorts of forms, without be-
ing able to reduce them to order. It is this unordered, multifari-
ous opulence of thought which we find in Bruno. His expositions
are often obscure, confused, allegorical and mystical, sometimes
extravagant and wild. Many of his writings are in verse, and
in these there is much that is fantastic — as when, in his book on
" The Triumphal Animal," he says that something else had to be
put in the place of the stars. Every personal interest was sacri-
ficed to his great inspiration. This gave him no rest. It has been
1 Bruno's Italian works, edited by Adolph Wagner, were published in Leipsic in 1830 ;
part of the Latin works, edited by A. F. Gfrorer, in Stuttgart, in 1835. A complete edition
is now in process of publication in Italy. A sufficient account of the Bruno literature
may be found in the address by Thomas Davidson, published in " The Index," February
25 and March 4, 1886. Mr. Davidson's address is itself the most interesting, profound,
and important word upon Bruno which has yet been written in America or England. We
are informed in this that an exhaustive work upon the life and works of Bruno is now
being prepared by a distinguished English scholar. In the brief account by Hegel, here
translated, Mr. Davidson recognizes the first adequate appreciation of Bruno. "From
Hegel's time, Bruno has become more and more a subject of interest, reverence, and
study."— Tr.
Giordano Bruno. 209
said that he was " a restless soul, out of harmony with himself."
Whence this unrest ? He could not harmonize himself with the
finite, the bad, the vulgar. Hence his unrest. He had annihi-
lated this separation of self-consciousness and nature, which de-
bases both alike, and raised himself to the one universal substan-
tiality. Men thought of God as in self-consciousness indeed, yet
as eoming from without, as something opposed to it, as another
actuality ; of nature as made by God, his creation, but not his
image. The goodness or providence of God was an external thing,
displayed in certain narrow finite purposes. " The bees make
honey," it was said, and we still hear it said, " so that men may
be fed. Cork-trees grow so that we may have stopples for our
bottles."
As to Bruno's thoughts themselves — Jacobi has presented them
iu such a form as to imply that the doctrine of one living Being,
a "World-soul, permeating all things, and constituting the life of
all, was something peculiar to Bruno, a special distinction of his.
Bruno asserted, first, the unity of life and the universality of the
World-soul, and secondly, the present, indwelling Reason. But
in this certainly he was very far from being original. The doc-
trine is nothing but an echo of the old Alexandrian doctrine.
Two things are prominent in Bruno's writings. In the first
place, his system itself in its cardinal thoughts, his philosophical
principles, the idea as substantial unity ; and secondly, albeit this
is connected with the former, his Lullian method or art, a special
hobby with him, something on which he always laid the greatest
stress — a method of discovering the distinctions in the idea, a mat-
ter of the greatest moment with him.
a. His philosophical thoughts, in which he makes use in part of
Aristotelian conceptions, give evidence of a peculiar, excessively
active and highly original mind. He is inspired by the thought
of the life of nature, the divinity, the presence of reason, in na-
ture. Generally speaking, therefore, his philosophy is certainly
Spinozism, pantheism. This separation of men from God or the
world, and all their relations of externality, are made an end of
in the living idea of the absolutely universal unity of all things,
for the expression of which Bruno has been so much admired.
The main features of his exposition of his thought are his general
definition of matter and his general definition of form.
XX— u
210 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
a. He defines the unity of life as the universal, active Under-
standing (vovs), revealing itself as the universal form of the cos-
mos and containing all forms in itself. In its relation to nature it
is like the human understanding, forming and systematizing the
things of nature as the understanding forms and systematizes con-
ceptions. It is the interior Artist, forming and fashioning matter
from within. From the interior of the root or of the seed, it
shoots forth the sprouts; from these it drives forth the branches,
out of these the twigs, from the interior of the twigs the buds,
leaves, blossoms, fruit. Everything is planned, prepared, and per-
fected from within. And so, too, this universal Understanding
calls its juices back from the fruits and flowers to the twigs, etc.
The cosmos is an infinite animal, in which all things manifoldly
live and move. The formal understanding here is not different
from final cause (design, the entelechy, the unmoved principle of
Aristotle); although it is also, this producer, the active under-
standing {causa efficiens), the mediate cause. Nature and mind
are not separate ; their unity is the formal understanding, in
which the pure conception is contained not as known, but as free
for itself, abiding in itself, as well as active, going out of itself.
Understanding working according to purpose is the very inner
form of things. Whatever is produced is produced conformably
to this principle and comprehended under it; everything is deter-
mined according to the determination of the form in itself. We
find the same thought in Proclus. The understanding, as the
true substantial, is that which contains all in its one; life is the
proceeding, the producing; the understanding as such is this
reflection or returning, this taking back of everything into the
unity. In the Kantian philosophy, we come again to the consid-
eration of this teleological principle or conception of purpose.
Organic life, whose very principle is formative, which has its effi-
ciency in itself, and in its working only abides by itself and main-
tains itself — this life itself is purpose, self-determined activity, not
merely related as a cause to something else, but self -related and
self-returning.
ft. Bruno, thus immediately identifying final and efficient cause,
and making purpose the immanent life of the universe, views this
purpose or final cause also as substance. He sets himself entirely
against the idea of an external, extra-mundane understanding. In
Giordano Bruno. 211
substance itself he makes the distinction of form and matter.
Substance as the activity of the idea is the unity of form and mat-
ter — matter is in itself alive. The abiding, in the infinite trans-
formations of being, says Bruno, is the first absolute matter ; itself
without form, it is the mother of all forms and that which is capa-
ble of all forms. It is not, indeed, without the first universal
form, and hence it is itself principle or final cause in itself. Form
is immanent in matter, the one simply not existing without the
other; so that matter itself produces these transformations, and it
is the same matter that is in them all. That which was first seed
becomes blade, then corn, then bread, chyle, blood, semen, em-
bryo, man, corpse, then earth again, stone, or something else ;
from sand and water come frogs. Here, then, is something which,
although transformed into all these various things, remains in
itself ever one and the same. This matter cannot consist of
bodies, for bodies are formed ; nor can it belong to what we call
properties, conditions, qualities — for these things are changeable
and evanescent. Nothing seems eternal and worthy of the name
of principle except matter. Many, therefore, have held matter to
be the only real, and all forms to be accidental. This error arises
from men's failure to recognize any but the secondary forms ; they
do not recognize that necessary first and eternal form, which is
the form and source of all forms. Matter, by reason of its iden-
tity with the performing understanding, is itself ideal {intelligi-
bel), as the universal presupposition of all definite corporeity. It
is nothing in particular — air, water, etc. — because it is everything
— the abstract ; it has no dimensions, because it has all. The
forms of matter are the inner power of matter itself ; it is itself, as
ideal, the totality of form. This system of Bruno's is objective
Spinozism ; his thought penetrated very deeply.
Bruno here raises the question : " How are this origiual univer-
sal form and this original universal matter united and inseparable
— different, and yet one % " In his answer he uses the Aristo-
telian forms of 8vva/Ms and ivepyeia. Matter is to be conceived as
potentiality ; and thus all possible being comes in some way under
the conception. The passivity of matter must be conceived purely
and absolutely. It is impossible to ascribe existence to a thing
which lacks the potency of existence. This actual existence has
such express relation to the active mode that it is immediately
212 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy,
evident that the one cannot be without the other, but that the
two reciprocally presuppose each other. If, therefore, there al-
ways existed a capacity to act, to produce, to create, there must
always have existed a capacity to be acted upon, to be produced,
to be created. The complete possibility of the existence of things
(matter) cannot precede their actual existence, and no more can
it remain beyond that actual existence. The first and perfect
principle comprises all existence in itself, has the capacity or
power to be all things, and is all things. In it active power and
potentiality, possibility, and actuality, are united as one undivided
and indivisible principle. This simultaneity of active power and
passivity is a very important conception : matter is nothing with-
out activity, form is the power and inner life of matter. If mat-
ter were merely undetermined possibility, how should we arrive
at the determined ? This simplicity of matter is only one moment
of the form ; in the very attempt to disengage matter from form,
it is posited in one determination of form, which immediately in-
volves the positing of the other.
The absolute is so determined for Bruno ; not so other things,
which can be and also can not be, which can be determined this
way or that way. In these finite things, and in the finite deter-
minations of the understanding, the distinction of form and mat-
ter is present. The individual man is in each moment what he
can be in that moment, but not what he can be altogether and in
point of substance. The things which appear as distinct are only
modifications of a single thing, which comprehends in its exist-
ence all other existence. The universe, however, uncreated na-
ture, is actually and at once all that it can be because it compre-
hends in itself all matter together with the eternal, unchangeable
form of its changing modes. But in its developments from mo-
ment to moment, in its particular parts and conditions, its partic-
ular beings, its externality, it is not what it is and can be; but
such particular part is only a shadow of the image of the first
principle. Bruno wrote a book " De umbris idearum."
7. This is Bruno's central thought. He says further : " The
effort of reason is to recognize in all things this unity of form and
matter. But, in order to penetrate to this unity, to explore all
the mysteries of nature, we must scrutinize and study the oppo-
site and conflicting extremes of things, the maximum and the
Giordano Bruno. 213
minimum." It is in these extremes that they are intelligible or
ideal and united in the conception ; and this union is the infinite
nature. " To rind the point of union, however, is not the greatest
thing ; out of this to develop also its opposite is the peculiar and
the deepest secret of the method." This recognition of the de-
velopment of the idea as a necessity of determinations is a great
point ; we shall presently see how Bruno did this. He conceives
the first principle, elsewhere called the form, as the smallest, which
is at the same time the greatest, as one, which is at the same time
all ; the universe is this one in all. In the universe, he says, body
is not distinguished from point, centre from circumference, finite
from infinite, greatest from smallest. There is nothing but centre
— or the centre is everywhere and in everything. The ancients
expressed this by saying of the father of the gods that he has his
seat in every point of the cosmos. It is the universe which gives
particular things true actuality, it is the substance of all things, is
monad, atom, the spirit everywhere outpoured, the entire essence,
the pure form. 1
b. Bruno's second work is in connection with the Lullian art or
method, so called after its inventor, the scholastic Raymond Lul-
ly — which art Bruno took up and improved, calling it his ars
comhinatoria. In one respect this art is similar to the topic of
Aristotle, both giving a multitude of points and definitions, to
be fixed in the mind as a table, with divisions and subdivisions,
under which everything may be classified. Only Aristotle's
topic was for the sake of taking hold of an object on its differ-
ent sides in process of definition, while Bruno's aim was rather to
facilitate the memory. He really joined the Lullian art to the art
of mnemonics which prevailed among the ancients, which has
been revived in recent times, and of which there is a detailed ac-
count in " Auctor ad Herennium " (Libr. Ill, c. 17, sqq.). One
fixes in the mind, for instance, a certain number of departments,
chosen as one pleases, say twelve, arranged in threes, and desig-
1 Upon the antithesis of maximum and minimum Bruno wrote several special works,
e.g., "De triplici Minimo et Mensura, libri V, Francofurti apud Wechelium et Fischer,
1591 ;" the text is in hexameters, with notes and scholia ; Buhle gives the title, " De
Minimo, libri V." Another work bears the title " De Monade, Xumero et figura # liber!
Item De Innumerabilibus, Immenso et Infigurabili : seu de Universo et Mundis, libri
VIII, Francofurti, 1591."
21-i The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
nated by certain names, as Aaron, Abimilech, Achilles, Balaam,
Bartholomew, Benjamin, etc. In these departments one arranges
whatever one has to learn by heart, making a series of pictures of
it, so that, in repeating it, it is not necessary to speak directly
from memory, or the head, as we are wont, but to read it, as it
were, from tablets. The difficulty lies in making a rational con-
nection between the real subject of my thought and the picture ;
the combinations are generally most vicious, and the art is a bad
one. Bruno himself soon abandoned it, because the thing of
memory became the thing of imagination — which is a degrada-
tion. Inasmuch, however, as Bruno's table is not only a group
of external pictures, but also a system of general determina-
tions of thought, he certainly gave the art a deeper inner signifi-
cance. 1
a. Bruno comes to this art from the general ideas. Since every-
thing is one life, one understanding, he struggles, with obscure pre-
sentiments of the truth, to grasp this universal understanding in
the totality of its determinations, and subsume everything under
it — to frame a logical philosophy based on this conception of the
one life and understanding, and make it applicable to everything.
He says that what philosophy has to consider is, the universe so
far as it comes under the categories of the true, the knowable, and
the rational. He distinguishes, like Spinoza, between the ideal
thing of the reason and the actual. As the subject of metaphysics
is the universal thing, which is divided into substance and acci-
dent, the highest requirement is a specific, more general art or
method of so uniting the thing of reason and the actual thing, so
grasping them in one conception and accrediting them as conform-
1 Bruno composed many of these topic-mnemonic works, of which the oldest are the
following : " Philotheus Jordanus Brunus Nolanus De compendiosa architectura et com-
plemento artis Lullii, Paris, ap. Aeg. Gorbinum, 1582."— J. Brunus Nol. "De Umbris
idearum implicantibus Artem quaerendi, etc., Paris, ap. Eund., 1582." The second
part has the title : " Ars memoriae.— Ph. Jord. Bruni Explicatio XXX sigillorum," etc.
"Quibus adjectus est Sigillus sigillorum," etc. It appears from the dedication that
Bruno published it in England, therefore, between 1582 and 1585. — "Jordanus Brunus
De Lampade combinatoria Lulliana, Yitebergae, 1587."— There, too, he wrote " DePro-
gressu et lampade venatoria Logicorum, Anno 1587," dedicated to the Chancellor of the
University of Wittenberg. — " Jordanus Brunus De Specierum scrutinio et lampade com-
binatoria, Raym. Lullii, Pragfe, exc. Georg. Nigrinus, 1588" ; also printed in "Ray-
mundi Lullii operibus." — Also " De imaginum, signorum et idearum compositione,
libri III, Francofurti ap. Jo. Weehel. et Petr. Fischer, 1591."
Giordano Bruno. 215
able each to the other, that the manifold, of whatever sort, shall
be restored to simple unity.
/3. Bruno's principle here is the understanding — in the first
place, the understanding acting outside itself, developing the sen-
sible world. This fills the part in the illumination of the mind
which the sun, in vision, fills for the eye — it illuminates the mass
of objects which appear, not itself. In the second place is the
active understanding in itself, which is related to the mental cate-
gories as the eye to things seen. The infinite form, the active
understanding, immanent in matter, is the first, the basis, which
develops itself. The process is, to a degree, the same as with the
New Platonists. The essential thing with Bruno here is to con-
ceive and demonstrate the organic processes of this active under-
standing.
7. The thought is put more definitely as follows: Pure truth
itself, the absolute light, man only approaches ; his being is not
absolute berng itself, only the One and First is that. He rests
only in the shadow of the Idea, which in its purity is light, but
which also has the element of darkness in itself. The light of
substance emanates from this pure, primal light, the light of acci-
dent from the light of substance. This is the third in the first,
which we find in Proclus. This absolute principle in its unity is,
according to Bruno, the primal matter, and he calls the first act
of this principle the primal light (actus primus lucis). The many
substances and accidents cannot appropriate the full light, they
exist only in the shadow ; the ideas of these substances and acci-
dents are likewise shadows. The evolution of nature proceeds
from moment to moment ; the created things are only a shadow
of the first principle, no more the principle itself.
8. Bruno continues: From this superessentiale — an expression
also used by Proclus — the progression to the essences takes place,
from the essences the progression to that which is, from that which
is to its images and shadows, and this in a twofold direction — partly
toward matter to be generated in its womb (these shadows appear in
a natural manner), partly toward sensibility and reason, by the power
of these to be recognized. The things are in all degrees of remote-
ness from the primal light toward darkness. But all things in the
universe are closely connected, the lower with the middle, and the
middle with the higher, the compound with the simple, the simple
216 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
with the simpler, the material with the spiritual, that the universe
may be one, with one order and government, that there may be
one principle and purpose, one first and last ; and so, in harmony
with the lyre of the universal Apollo (an expression which occurs
also in Heraclitus), the lower can be traced back, step by step, to
the higher, as fire is transformed into air, air into water, water into
earth, and vice versa — all having one and the same essence. The
descending scale is the same as the ascending, making a circle.
Nature, within its limits, can produce everything from everything ;
and so the understanding can recognize everything in everything.
e. The unity of opposites is explained more particularly as fol-
lows : The difference of the shadows is not a real antagonism.
Opposites — the beautiful and the ugly, the agreeable and the dis-
agreeable, the perfect and imperfect, good and evil — are held in
one and the same conception. The imperfect, the evil, the ugly
do not have a special ground of their own, in positive ideas. They
are known in and through another conception, not in an inde-
pendent conception pertaining to themselves ; such a conception
is nothing. This peculiarity or independence of the imperfect,
evil, etc., is the not-being in being, the defect in the effect. The
original understanding is the primal light. It pours out its light
from the innermost to the outermost, and draws it back again from
the outermost to itself. Every being can appropriate some of this
light, each according to its capacity.
£. The real in things is precisely this ideal, not the sensible, the
perceived, or the individual ; that which is usually called real, the
sensible, is not-being. Whatever happens under the sun, what-
ever inhabits the realm of matter, falls under the conception of
vanity and nothingness (finitude). Seek the firm ground of ideas,
if thou art wise. This pure light of things is precisely their know-
ableness, having its source in the original understanding and har-
monizing with it ; that which has not being is not known. That
which is here contrast and difference in the primal understanding
is harmony and unity. Seek, therefore, whether thou canst iden-
tify the images which thou receivest, whether thou canst make
them harmonious and one ; so thou willst not weary thy mind,
nor obscure thy thought, nor confuse thy memory. Through the
idea which is in the understanding, a thing is better comprehended
than through the form of the natural thing in itself, since the latter
Giordano Bi^uno. 217
is more material ; but comprehended most perfectly through the
idea of the object as it is in the divine understanding. The dis-
tinctions which appear here are there no distinctions, but all is
harmony. This thought Bruno sought to develop — urging that
the determinations native to the divine understanding correspond
to those which appear in the subjective understanding. Bruno's
art consists in determining or defining the universal system or
scheme of form, which comprehends everything, and in showing
how its moments are represented and expressed in the various
spheres of existence.
77. Bruno's main endeavor, therefore, was, according to the
Lullian art, to exhibit the All and One as a system of regular,
classified determinations. He specifies the three spheres, alter
the manner of Proclus : 1, the primal form (virepovala), as the
originator of all forms ; 2, the physical world, which makes im-
pressions of the ideas upon the surface of matter and multiplies
the original image in countless reflections ; 3, the form of the
rational world, which numerically individualizes the shadows of
the ideas for the senses, brings them into the One, and raises them
into general conceptions for the understanding. The moments of
the primal form itself are being, goodness (nature or life), and unity
(this, too, we have substantially in Proclus). In the metaphysical
world, it is thing, good, principle of plurality (ante multa) ; in the
physical world, it reveals itself in things, goods, individuals; in
the rational world of cognition, it rises from things, goods, and in-
dividuals. The unity is what restores or brings back ; and Bruno,
distinguishing the natural and metaphysical worlds, seeks to frame
his system of determinations so as to show at once how a thing
appears in a natural manner which exists in another manner in
thought or ideally.
Endeavoring to. comprehend this relation more completely,
Bruno views thought as a subjective art and activity of the soul,
representing within, conceptually, by inner signs as it were, that
which nature represents without, by outward signs. Thought, he
says, is the capacity to appropriate this external handwriting of na-
ture, as well as to reflect and actualize the internal in the external.
Bruno places this art of inward thought and accordant outward
organization, and vice versa, which the human soul possesses, in
the closest and most intimate connection with the art of universal
218 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
nature, with the operation of the absolute world-principle, by which
everything is formed and fashioned. It is one form which is de-
veloped ; it is one and the same world-principle, which forms the
minerals, plants, and animals, and which thinks and outwardly
organizes in man ; it only expresses itself, in its operations in the
world, in infinitely varying modes. Within and without is one
and the same development of one and the same principle.
These various handwritings or symbols of the soul, through
which the organizing world-principle reveals itself, Bruno endeav-
ored to define and systematize in his " Ars Lulliana " ; and he
therein adopts twelve fundamental types, classes of natural forms,
as a basis : species, formes, simulacra, imagines, spectra, exempla-
ria, indicia, signa, notai, characteres et sigilli. Certain types are
related to the external sense, like the external forms, images, and
ideals (extrinseca forma, imago, exemplar), represented by paint-
ing and other plastic arts, imitating their mother nature. Some
are related to the internal sense, in which — in respect to measure,
duration, and number — they are enlarged, extended in time, and
multiplied ; of this sort are the creations of imagination. Some
are related to a point common equally to several things ; some are
so discrepant with the objective constitution of things as to be
utterly chimerical. Some, finally, appear to be peculiar to the
art, as the signa, notw, characteres et sigilli / which give the art
so much power that it appears to be able to act independently of
nature, beyond nature, and, if the thing involves it, even against
nature."
So far, on the whole, all is well. The scheme is worked out on
all sides. This attempt to exhibit the logical system of the inter-
nal Artist, the producing thought, so as to make the forms of ex-
ternal nature correspond to it, is deserving of all praise. But
when this praise is given, and the real greatness of Bruno's concep-
tion acknowledged, it must still be said that the determinations of
thought here are superficial, lifeless types, like the schemata of
the philosophy of nature in recent times ; he merely enumerates
the moments and antitheses of the scheme, just as our philosophers
of nature developed the triplicity in each separate sphere, viewed
as an absolute. The points beyond, or the more determinate mo-
ments, are only heaped together by Bruno ; he gets into confusion
when he attempts to represent them by figures and classifications.
Notes and Discussions. 219
The twelve forms, which are made a basis, are neither deduced
and united into one complete system, nor is the further multi-
plication deduced. Bruno wrote several works upon this point
(De jSigillis), the exposition seeming to be different in different
works ; the main point is that things in their appearing, or as phe-
nomena, are as letters and signs, corresponding to a thought. The
general idea, as opposed to the Aristotelian and scholastic disper-
siveness, in which each determination was only fixed independently,
is certainly to be praised. But in the development of the idea he
gets mixed up with the Pythagorean numbers, and is fantastic
and arbitrary ; in places one comes upon metaphorical and alle-
gorical groupings and couplings, where it is utterly impossible to
follow him. In this attempt to reduce everything to order, every-
thing runs together in the wildest disorder.
But it was a great point, in the first place, to get hold of the
idea of unity ; and it was a great point to view the universe in its
development, in the system of its determinations, and to show how
the external is a sign of ideas. These two achievements distin-
gnish Bruno in the history of thought.
NOTES AND DISCUSSIONS.
KANT ON THE INFINITE DIVISIBILITY OF SPACE.
[We reprint the following extracts from Professor John Watson's
" Kant and his English Critics " (pp. 246-250). His excellent discussion
of Kant's " Metaphysical Grounds of Natural Science " we have before
alluded to (J. S. P., vol. xv, p. 222). The statement here given is Pro-
fessor Watson's own summary of the Kantian treatise. — Ed.]
As each part of space is divisible to infinity, so also is each part of matter which occu-
pies space. And the divisibility of matter means the physical divisibility of its parts.
Each part of matter may therefore be regarded, like each material body, as a material
substance divisible to infinity ; for a material substance is definable as that which is
movable in itself.
This proof of the infinite divisibility of matter overthrows the theory of 'the monad-
ists, who suppose matter to be composed of indivisible points, and to occupy space,
220 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
purely in virtue of its repulsive force. On this view, while space and the sphere of
activity of a substance is divisible, the substance itself, which occupies space and mani-
fests force, is not divisible. But, as has been shown, there is no point in an occupied
space which is not capable of being regarded as a material substance endowed with re-
pulsive force, and as itself movable, because capable of being acted upon by other re-
pulsive forces. This may be still further shown in the following way : If we suppose
any monad, with a given sphere of activity, to be placed at a certain point ; then, as
space is divisible to infinity, we can suppose an infinity of monads to occupy a position
between the first monad and the point to which its resistance extends. Each of these,
as possessed of a force of repulsion of its own, and as repelled by the other, must be
movable ; and hence, there is no part of space occupied by matter which is not movable ;
in other words, each part of matter is a substance endowed with a moving force-
Matter, therefore, is not indivisible, as the monadist supposes, but infinitely divisible.
' Observe, however, that, when matter is said to be divisible to infinity, it is not meant
that it is made up of an infinite number of parts, as the dogmatic philosopher main-
tains. Divisibility is not identical with dividedness. If space and matter were things
in themselves, we should indeed have to admit either that matter is composed of a
finite number of parts, or that we have no knowledge of it. But when we see that
matter in space is not a thing in itself but a phenomenon, we can also understand how
it may be divisible to infinity, and yet may not be composed of an infinite number of
parts. A phenomenon exists only in relation to our thought of it, and hence matter is
^■divided just in so far as we have carried the division. The mere fact, therefore, that we
can carry on the division to infinity does not show that there is in a material body actu-
ally an infinite number of parts. Nor can we affirm that the parts of matter are simple,
because these parts, as existing only in relation to our consciousness of them, are given
only in the process by which they are divided or mentally distinguished. Matter, there-
fore, is not composed of parts which exist as simple in a thing external to knowledge,
but of parts determined as such in the process by which matter is known as divisible.
It has been shown that without impenetrability there could be no occupation of space
at all, and that impenetrability is just the capacity by which matter, in virtue of a mov-
ing force, extends itself in all directions. A force of extension, however, cannot of it-
self account for the existence of matter as having a definite quantity. In the first place,
there is no absolute limit to extension in such a force itself ; and, in the second place,
there is nothing in the nature of space to prevent the infinite expansion of matter ; for
the intensity of the force of extension, while it will no doubt decrease as the volume of
matter expands, can never sink down to zero. Apart, therefore, from a force of com-
pression acting contrary to the force of repulsion, matter could have no finite quantity
in a given space, but would disperse itself to infinity. Nor can the limiting force of one
material body be found in the repulsive force of another material body, since the latter
also requires a force of compression to determine it to a finite quantity. Besides the
repulsive force with which a body is endowed, we must therefore suppose it to have a
force acting in the opposite direction — i. e., a force of attraction. And this force, as
essential to the very possibility of matter, cannot be peculiar to a certain kind of mate-
rial body, but must be universal. Both the force of repulsion and the force of attraction
are therefore essential ; for, while, by the former, matter would disperse itself to infinity,
by the latter it would vanish in a mathematical point. If merely a force of attraction
were to act, the distance between each part of matter would be gradually lessened until
it disappeared altogether, since one moving force can only be limited by a moving force
Notes and Discussions. 221
contrary to it. These, it may be added, are the only ultimate forces; for as matter,
apart from its mass, may be considered as a point, any two material bodies must either
separate from, or approach to, one another in the straight line lying between them ; and
the motion of separation is due to repulsion, the motion of approximation to attraction.
Matter, then, is constituted by the two opposite forces of repulsion and attraction. ^
There is, however, an important distinction between the mode of operation of these
forces. Repulsion acts only by physical contact, attraction only at a distance : (1) Physic-
al contact must be carefully distinguished from mathematical contact. The latter is
presupposed in the former, but the one cannot be identified with the other. Contact, in
the mathematical sense, is simply the limit between any two parts of space, a limit which
is not contained in either of the parts. Two straight lines cannot in themselves be in
contact with each other ; but, if they cut each other, they meet in a point which consti-
tutes the common limit between them. So a line is the limit between two surfaces, and
a surface the limit between two solids. Physical contact, on the other hand, is the
mutual action of two repulsive forces in the common limit of two material bodies, or the
reciprocal action constituting impenetrability. Attraction never acts by physical con-
tact, but is always actio in distans, or action through empty space. For, as has been
shown, a force of attraction is essential to the determination of any given material body
as to intensive quantity, and this force must act independently of the physical contact
of bodies — i. e., through empty space. To the conception of attraction, as action at a
distance, it is commonly objected that matter cannot act where it is not. How, it may
be asked, can the earth immediately attract the moon, which is thousands of miles dis-
tant from it? To this Kant replies that matter cannot act where it is, on any hypothe-
sis we may adopt, since each part of it is necessarily outside of every other. Even
if the earth and the moon were in physical contact, their point of contact would lie in
the limit between the two parts touching each other, and therefore each part, to act on
the other, must act where it is not. The objection, therefore, comes to this, that one
body can only act on another when each repels the other. But this makes attraction
absolutely dependent on repulsion, if it does not abolish attraction altogether — a sup-
position for which there is no ground whatever. Attraction and repulsion are com-
pletely independent of one another, and are alike necessary to the constitution of a
material body.
SENTENCES IN PROSE AND VERSE.
SELECTION BY W. E. CHANNING.
He took it in his [hand], which was well-formed, thin, aud ascetic ; its
clasp, rarely given, was possessive, not alone of another, but of himself;
now it closed around Beth's, until she felt hers unbreakably bound. —
Bethesda by Barbara Elbon.
What is more charming than a glimpse of a scene familiar to us,
through a stranger's discerning eyes ? Don't we all enjoy a painting
better of something we know ? — Ibid.
They [politicians] crystallize theories into actions, and show the result
in a state. — Ibid.
222 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
• He had a persuasive quality that relied little on words, but made one
feel, insensibly as it were, that what he wished was easiest and best. —
Ibid.
The future was his thought, and there was all the difference between
him and Bethesda that lies between activity and passivity. She was per-
versive in her readiness to be worked upon, unconscious though it were.
—Ibid.
A luminous night's rest, when she never fell so soundly asleep but that
she was conscious of an unusual brightness in her mind. — Ibid.
That inimitable French faculty of seizing the very arrow-head of thought,
to which the language lends itself in an unequaled manner. — Ibid.
He considered that character, which allows its whole self to be seen by
any one who cares to look, as a boorish, ungraceful, and almost immoral
one. Garments are as necessary to the soul as to the body in civilized
society. — Ibid.
He was a man of remarkable personal magnetism, and a woman of as
positive a nature as Bethesda's, and one who possessed no little personal
electricity herself, naturally sprang away from the attraction to which she
had half unwillingly and half unconsciously yielded. — Ibid.
" Ah, the little more, and how much is it ?
And the little less, and what worlds away ! "
Browning [Motto of Chapter.]' — Ibid.
"There are some things one may know," he said, catching her eyes
with a steady grasp of his own. — Ibid.
She, whose sensitiveness felt like a mirror the blurring of a too-close
breath. — Ibid.
The small-brained, exquisitely dressed woman actually smothered a
sigh. — Ibid.
The vividness of new life on every leaf — the blue skies lifted themselves
and intensified more and more like the beloved Italy. — Ibid.
The meadows and the hill-sides were glittering with fire-flies, as if the
overheated earth were sending up slow sparks of fire ; the glow-worms
burnt their green lamps in the grass, and in the sky there was heat-light-
ning like involuntary thought. Sometimes it was eerie moonlight, such
as pure elves might find amid the ice-caverns of the glaciers ; again, it lit
the clouds with the flaming of a wild hope ; again, it was the bright am-
ber of assurance, or the rich purple of suffering made into joy ; and at
times it seemed to the entranced girl like a vision of heaven itself. [A
late spring evening near Florence.] — Ibid.
Notes and Discussions. 223
The girl was exceedingly innocent — not through ignorance, but daunt-
less faith in those she once liked. — Ibid.
" Every spendthrift to passion is debtor to thought." Owen Meredith
[Motto to Chapter.] — Ibid.
The light irradiated her face and brought out the glory of her hair ;
her eyes gazed at the dazzling splendor unblenchingly, for she felt a joy
that made her strong to bear any radiance. Her soul seemed to expand
•with a twofold life and leaped within her. She felt an intense desire to
spring forward, and delay the sun in its setting, just that time might let
her drink deeply of the happiness this hour held. — Ibid.
That fine analysis of human nature which makes the French mind, like
the Greek, stand alone. — Ibid.
I have been pinning my mind so assiduously to its work to-day that it
is full of holes, and ideas would go through as if it were a sieve. — Ibid.
You analyze and idealize man as I analyze and idealize institutions.
We appreciate the same characteristics ; we admire the same qualities.
But you are a woman, and I am a man ; we shall necessarily see different
sides of life ; we shall have different experiences. I could give you sug-
gestions with perhaps some virile force, and you lend them form, and
body, and grace. — Ibid.
There is a vigor of purpose, a vivid comprehension of the difference
one soul can make that infuses youth with a grandeur all its own. Each
soul is the possible pivot on which the world may turn, and youth feels
this with an intensity that makes promises seem deeds and tendencies
fulfillment. — Ibid.
She felt as if her mind had an immensity as large as the deep-blue
heavens, and with as many points of palpitating white light. They might
be worlds or they might be unknown fires. The universe was filled with
the o-lad exultation now thrilling throuo-h her. — Ibid.
She had yet to learn that abstract right is above any conscience, and it
we must obey. Principle was not developed in her. The instincts of
her nature were true and noble, but the quivering needle of a compass is
not more unsteady in comparison to the polar star than conscience in
comparison with principle. — Ibid.
Days passed, June came, and brooded with a delicious sweetness over
land and sea, over flowers of the earth and flowers of the mind. Nature
unclosed and let the warm sunbeams steal into the furl of every leaf ;
white lilacs bloomed ; roses smoothed their creased young petal?, and ex-
panded their delicate filaments in rich development. Everything, in fact,
224 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
was redolent of life, and shook into the air new vitality, and beauty, and
strength. — Ibid.
He looked up with the dreaminess of his tone in his dark eyes and met
hers. They reminded him of some shadowed cove, where the limpid
water lay deep and still, only the tide throbbing far beneath the glitter-
ing surface. — Ibid.
Birds sang exultingly ; trees and flowers gleamed in the growing light ;
a damp breeze blew over the forest and refreshed his hot brain. He
longed to be away, amid the everlastingnesses of Nature. . . . For hours
he wandered through the morning glades, with Xature smiling in his face,
and the birds caroling overhead. His electric susceptibility decreased
here, where all was the same as for years and years. A forest could not
be made or destroyed in a day, an hour, an instant. — Ibid.
BOOK NOTICES.
The Philosophy of Kant in Extracts. Selected by John Watson, LL. D., author of
" Kant and his English Critics " and " Schelling's Transcendental Idealism." Pp.
194. Paper covers.
" Intended at first solely for the use of students in Queen's University, a few copies
of these ' Extracts ' are offered to teachers and students of philosophy elsewhere. It is
true that selected passages too often convey an erroneous or imperfect view of an au-
thor's meaning, but in the case of Kant, whose works are full of repetitions which ob-
scure and delay the progress of the argument, it may be doubted if the less does not
include the greater and even more. These extracts give a connected statement of the '
whole philosophy of Kant. The selections from the first and second halves of the
' Kritik of Pure Reason ' have been taken from the admirable translations of Dr. Stir-
ling and Professor Max Mixller respectively ; those from the ' Kritik of Practical Reason '
from Mr. Abbott ; and to these has been added a translation by Professor Watson of ■
important passages in the ' Kritik of Judgment,' a work which has never before ap-
peared in an English dress, and a knowledge of which is simply indispensable if Kant's
system is to be fully understood."
Copies will be sent on receipt of the price ($1.00 per copy) by George W. Mitchell,
Queen's University, Kingston, Ont.
This forms a convenient hand-book to read on a journey. The passages selected are
chosen with admirable good judgment. One can only regret that Professor Watson has
not reprinted in this book his eighth chapter from " Kant and his English Critics," full
as it is of extracts from " Kant's Metaphysics of Natural Science."
THE JOURNAL
OF
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY
Vol. XX.J July, 1886. [No. 3.
THE DIVINE PYMANDER OF HERMES
TRISMEGISTUS. 1
[REPRINTED FROM THE OLD ENGLISH TRANSLATION.]
TO THE READER.
Judicious Reader :
This Book may justly challenge the first place for antiquity, from all the Books in
the World, being written some hundreds of yeers before Moses his time, as I shall
endevor to make good. The Original (as far as is known to us) is Arabic/:, and several
Translations thereof have been published, as Greek, Latine, French, Dutch, etc., but
never English before. It is pity the s Learned Translator had not lived, and received
himself, the honor, and thanks due to him from Englishmen ; for his good will to, and
pains for them, in translating a Book of such infinite worth, out of the Original, into
their Mother-tongue.
Concerning the Author of the Book it self, Four things are considerable, viz. His
Name, Learning, Countrey, and Time. 1. The name by which he was commonly stiled,
is, Hermes Trismegistus, i. e. Mercurius ter Maximus, or, The thrice greatest Intelli-
gencer. And well might he be called Hermes, for he was the first Intelligencer in the
World (as we read of) that communicated Knowledg to the sons of Men, by Writing, or
Engraving. He was called Ter Maximus, for some Reasons, which I shall afterwards
mention. 2. His Learning will appear, as by his Works ; so by the right understanding
1 " The Divine Pymander of Hermes Mercurius Trismegistus, in XVII. Books. Trans-
lated formerly out of the Arabick into Greek, and thence into Latine, and Dutch, and
now out of the Original into English : by that Learned Divine Doctor Everard : London,
Printed by Robert White, for Tho. Brewster, and Greg. Moule, at the Three Bibles in
the Poultrey, under Mildreds Church. 1650."
2 Doctor Everard.
XX— 15
226 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
the Reason of his Name. 3. For his Countrey, he was King of Egypt. 4. For his Time,
it is not without much Controversie, betwixt those that write of this Divine, ancient
Author, what time he lived in. Some say he lived after Moses his time, giving this slen-
der Reason for it, viz. Because he was named Ter Maximus ; for being preferred '
(according to the Egyptian cuscoms) being chief Philosopher, to be chief of the Priest-
hood ; and from thence, to be chief in Government, or King. But if this be all their
ground, you must excuse my dissent from them, and that for this reason, Because
according to the most learned of his * followers, he was called Ter Maximus ; for hav-
ing perfect, and exact Knowledg of all things contained in the World ; which things he
divided into Three Kingdoms (as he calls them), viz. Mineral, Vegetable, Animal ; which
Three, he did excel in the right understanding of ; also, because he attained to, and
transmitted to Posterity (although in an Enigmatical, and obscure stile) the Knowledg
of the Quintessence of the whole Universe (which Universe, as I said before, he divided
into Three Parts (otherwise called, The great Elixir of the Philosophers ; which is the
Receptacle of all Celestial and Terrestial Vertues ; which Secret, many ignorantly deny,
many have chargeably sought after, yet few, but some, yea, and Englishmen? have hap-
pily found. The Description of this great Treasure, is said to be found ingraved upon
a Smaragdine Table, in the Valley of Ebron, after the Flood. So that the Reason before
alleaged to prove this Author to live after Moses, seems invalid ; neither doth it any
way appear, that he lived in Moses his time, although it be the opinion of some, as of
John Functius, who saith in his Chronology, That he lived Twenty-one yeers before the
Law was given by Moses in the Wilderness : But the Reasons that he, and others give,
are far weaker then those that I shall give, for his living before Moses his time. My
reasons for that, are these ; First, Because it is received amongst the Ancients, that he
was the first that invented the Art of communicating Knowledg to the World, by Writ-
ing or Engraving. Now if so, then in all probability he was before Moses ; for it is
said of Moses, that he was from 4 his childehood, skilled in all the Egyptian Learning,
which could not well have been without the help of Literature, which we never read of
any before that invented by Hermes. Secondly, He is said by 6 himself, to be the son
of Saturn, and by 6 others to be Scribe of Saturn. Now Saturn according to Historians,
lived in the time of Sarug, Abrahams great Grand-Father. I shall but take in Suidas
his judgment, and so rest satisfied, that he did not live onely before, but long before
Moses : His words are these, 1 Credo Mercurium Trismegistum sapientem Egyptium flo-
ruisse ante Pharaonem.
In this Book, though so very old, is contained more true knowledg of God and Nature,
then in all the Books in the World besides, I except onely Sacred Writ : And they that
shall judiciously read it, and rightly understand it, may well be excused from reading
many Books ; the Authors of which, pretend so much to the knowledg of the Creator,
and Creation. If God ever appeared in any man, he appeared in him, as it appears by
this Book. That a man who had not the benefit of his Ancestors knowledg, being as I
said before, The first inventer of the Art of Communicating Knowledg to Posterity by
writing, should be so high a Divine, and so deep a Philosopher, seems to be a thing
more of God, then of Man ; and therefore it was the opinion of some, 8 That he came
1 Franciscus Flussas.
2 Geber Paracel. Henricus Nollius in theoria Philosophic Hermeticae tractatu priimo.
3 Ripley, Bacon, Norton, etc.
4 Acts 7. 22. 6 Chapter 10. 6 Sanchoniaton.
1 Suidas. 8 Goropius. Becanus.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 227
from Heaven, not born upon Earth. There is contained in this Book, that true Philoso-
phy, without which, it is impossible ever to attain to the height, and exactness of Piety,
and Religion. According to this Philosophy, I call him a Philosopher, that shall learn
and study the things that are, and how they are ordered, and governed, and by whom,
and for what cause, or to what end ; and he that doth so, will acknowledg thanks to
and admire the Omnipotent Creator, Preserver, and Director of all these things. And
he that shall be -thus truly thankful, may truly be called Pious and Religious; and he
that is Religious, shall more and more, know where, and what the Truth is : And learn-
ing that, he shall yet be more and more Religious.
The glory and splendor of Philosophy, is an endevoring to understand the chief Good,
as the Fountain of all Good : Now how can we come neer to, or finde out the Fountain,
but by making use of the Streams as a conduct to it ? The operations of Nature, are
Streams running from the Fountain of Good, which is God. I am not of the ignorant,
and foolish opinion of those that say, The greatest Philosophers, are the greatest Athe-
ists ; as if to know the Works of God, and to understand his goings forth in the Way
of Nature, must necessitate a man to deny God. The ' Scripture disapproves of this as
a sottish tenent, and experience contradicts it : For behold ! Here is the greatest Phi-
losopher, and therefore the greatest Divine.
Read understanding^ this ensuing Book (and for thy help, thou mayest make use of
that voluminous 2 Commentary written upon it) then it will speak more for its Author,
then can be spoken by any man, at least by me.
Thine in the love of the Truth, J. F.
HERMES TRISMEGISTUS HIS FIRST BOOK.
1. I, O my Son, write this first Book, both for Humanity sake,
and for Piety towards God.
2. For there can be no Religion more true or just, then 3 to
know the things that are; and to acknowledg thanks for all things,
to him that made them, which thing I shall not cease continually
to do.
3. What then should a man do, O Father, to lead his life well ;
seeing there is nothing here true?
4. Be Pious and Religious, O my Son ; for he that doth so, is
the best and highest Philosopher; and without Philosophy, it is
impossible ever to attain to the height and exactness of Piety or
Religion.
5. But he that shall learn and study the things that are, and
how they are ordered and governed, and by whom, and for what
cause, or to what end, will acknowledg thanks to the Workman,
1 Job. 38. 2 Hannibal Rosseli Calabar.
3 Then, for than; onely, for only ; etc. (The spelling of the quaint English is pre-
served in this reprint. — Editor J. S. P.)
228 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
as to a good Father, an excellent Nurse, and a faithful Steward,
and he that gives thanks shall be Pious or Religions, and he that
is Religious shall know both where the truth is, and what it is,
and learning that, he will be yet more and more Religious.
6. For never, O Son, shall, or can that Soul, which while it is
in the Body lightens and lifts up it self to know and comprehend
that which is Good and True, slide back to the contrary : For it
is infinitely enamored thereof, and forgetteth all Evils ; and when
it hath learned and known its Father and Progenitor, it can no
more Apostatize or depart from that Good.
7. And let this, O Son, be the end of Religion and Piety;
whereunto when thoa art once arrived, thou shalt both live well,
and die blessedly, whilest thy Soul is not ignorant whether it must
return, and flie back again.
8. For this onely, Son, is the w r ay to the Truth, which our
Progenitors travelled in ; and by which, making their Journey,
they at length attained to the Good. It is a Venerable way, and
plain, but hard and difficult for the Soul to go in that is in the Body.
9. For first must it war against its own self, and after much
Strife and Dissention, it must be overcome of one part; for the
Contention is of one against two, whilest it flies away, and they
.strive to hold and detain it.
10. But the victory of both is not like ; for the one hasteth to
that which is Good, but the other is a neighbor to the things that
.are Evil; and that which is Good, desireth to be set at Liberty;
tout the things that are Evil, love Bondage and Slavery.
11. And if the two parts be overcome, they become quiet, and
are content to accept of it as their Ruler ; but if the one be over-
come of the two, it is by them led and carried to be punished by
its being and continuance here.
12. This is, O Son, the Guide in the way that leads thither;
for thou must first forsake the Body before thy end, and get the
victory in this Contention and Strifeful life, and when thou hast
overcome, return.
13. But now, O my Son, I will by Heads run through the
things that are : Understand thou what I sav, and remember what
thou hearest.
14. All things that are are moved, onely that which is not is
.immoveable.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 229
15. Every Body is changeable.
16. Not every Body is dissolveable.
17. Some Bodies are dissolveable.
18. Every living thing is not mortal.
19. Not every living thing is immortal.
20. That which may be dissolved is also corruptible.
21. That which abides always is unchangeable.
22. That which is unchangeable is eternal.
23. That which is always made is always corrupted.
24. That which is made but once, is never corrupted, neither
becomes any other thing.
25. First, God ; Secondly, the World ; Thirdly, Man.
26. The World for Man, Man for God.
27. Of the Soul ; that part which is Sensible is mortal, but that
which is Reasonable is immortal.
28. Everv Essence is immortal.
29. Every Essence is unchangeable.
30. Every thing that is, is double.
31. None of the things that are stand still.
32. Not all things are moved by a Soul, but every thing that
is, is moved by a Soul.
33. Every thing that suffers is Sensible, every thing that is
Sensible suffereth.
34. Every thing that is sad, rejoyceth also, and is a mortal living
Creature.
35. Not every thing that joyeth is also sad, but is an eternal
living thing.
36. Not every Body is sick ; every Body that is sick is dissolve-
able.
37. The Minde in God.
38. Reasoning (or disputing, or discoursing) in Man.
39. Reason in the Minde.
40. The Minde is voyd of suffering.
41. No thing in a Body true.
42. All that is incorporeal, is voyd of Lying.
43. Every thing that is made is corruptible.
44. Nothing good upon Earth, nothing evil in Heaven.
45. God is good, Man is evil.
46. Good is voluntary, or of its own accord.
230 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
47. Evil is un vol unitary, or against its will.
48. The Gods choose good things, as good things.
49. Time is a Divine thing.
50. Law is Humane.
51. Malice is the nourishment of the World.
52. Time is the Corruption of Man.
53. Whatsoever is in Heaven is unalterable.
54. All upon Earth is alterable.
55. Nothing in Heaven is servanted, nothing upon Earth free.
56. Nothing unknown in Heaven, nothing known upon Earth.
57. The things upon Earth, communicate not with those in
Heaven.
58. All tilings in Heaven are unblameable, all things upon
Earth are subject to Reprehension.
59. That which is immortal, is not mortal ; that which is mor-
tal, is not immortal.
60. That which is sown, is not always begotten ; but that which
is begotten always, is sown.
61. Of a dissolveable Body, there are two Times, one from sow-
ing to generation, one from generation to death.
62. Of an everlasting Body, the time is onely from the Genera-
tion.
63. Dissolveable Bodies are increased and diminished.
64. Dissolveable matter is altered into contraries; to wit, Cor-
ruption and Generation, but Eternal matter into its self, and its
like.
65. The Generation of Man is Corruption, the Corruption of
Man is the beginning of Generation.
66. That which off-springs or begetteth another, is it self an off-
spring or begotten by another.
67. Of things that are, some are in Bodies, some in their Ideas.
68. Whatsoever things belong to operation or working, are in
a Body.
69. That which is immortal, partakes not of that which is mor-
tal.
TO. That which is mortal, cometh not into a Body immortal;
but that which is immortal, cometh into that which is mortal.
71. Operations or Workings are not carried upwards, but de-
scend downwards.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 231
72. Tilings upon Earth, do nothing advantage those in Heaven ;
but all things in Heaven do profit and advantage the things upon
Earth.
73. Heaven is capable, and a fit receptable of everlasting Bodies,
the Earth of corruptible Bodies.
74. The Earth is bruitish, the Heaven is reasonable or ra-
tional.
75. Those things that are in Heaven, are subjected or placed
under it ; but the things on Earth, are placed upon it.
76. Heaven is the first Element.
77. Providence is Divine Order.
78. Necessity is the Minister or Servant of Providence.
79. Fortune is the carriage or effect of that which is without
Order; the Idol of operation, a lying fantasie or opinion.
80. What is God ? The immutable or unalterable Good.
81. What is Man ? An unchangeable Evil.
82. If thou perfectly remember these Heads, thou canst not for-
get those things which in more words I have largely expounded
unto thee ; for these are the Contents or Abridgment of them.
83. Avoyd all Conversation with the multitude or common
People; for I would not have thee subject to Envy, much less to
be ridiculous unto the many.
84. For the like always takes to it self that which is like, but
the unlike never agrees with the unlike : Such Discourses as these
have very few Auditors, and peradventure very few will have, but
they have something peculiar unto themselves.
85. They do rather sharpen and whet evil men to their mali-
ciousness ; therefore it behoveth to avoyd the multitude, and take
heed of them, as not understanding the vertue and power of the
things that are said.
86. How dost thou mean, Father f
87. Thus, O Son, the whole Nature and Composition of those
living things called Men, is very prone to Maliciousness, and is
very familiar, and as it were nourished with it, and therefore is
delighted with it. Now this wight if it shall come to learn or
know, that the world was once made, and all things are done ac-
cording to Providence and Necessity, Destiny, or Fate, bearing
Rule over all : Will he not be much worse then himself? despising
the whole, because it was made. And if he may lay the cause
232 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
of Evil, upon Fate or Destiny, he will never abstain from any
evil work.
88. Wherefore we must look warily to such kinde of people,
that being in ignorance, they may be less evil for fear of that which
is hidden and kept secret.
{The end of the first Booh.)
THE SECOND BOOK: GALLED POEMANDER.
1. My Thoughts being once seriously busied about the things
that are, and my Understanding lifted up, all my bodily Senses
being exceedingly holden back, as it is with them that are very
heavy of sleep, by reason either of fulness of meat, or of bodily
labor. Me thought I saw one of an exceeding great stature, and
an iniinite greatness call me by my name, and say unto me, What
wouldest thou hear and see f or what wouldest thou understand,
to learn, and know f
2. Then said I, Who art thou? I am quoth he Poemander, the
minde of the great Lord, the most Mighty and absolute Emperor:
I know what thou wouldst have, and I am always present with
thee.
3. Then said I, I would learn the things that are, and under-
stand the nature of them, and know God. How ? said he : I an-
swered, That I would gladly hear. Then he, Have me again in
thy minde, and whatsoever thou wouldest learn, I will teach
thee.
4. When he had thus said, he was changed in his Idea or Form,
and straight-way in the tvvinckling of an eye, all things were
opened unto me: And I saw an infinite light, all things were
become light, both sweet and exceedingly pleasant ; and I was
wonderfully delighted in the beholding it.
5. But after a little while, there was a darkness made in part,
coming down obliquely, fearful and hideous, which seemed unto
me to be changed into a certain moyst nature, unspeakably trou-
bled, which yielded a smoke as from fire ; and from whence pro-
ceeded a vovce unutterable, and very mournful, but inarticulate,
insomuch that it seemed to have come from the Light.
6. Then from that Light, a certain holy Word ioyned it self
unto Nature, and out-flew the pure and unmixed Fire from the
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 233
moyst Nature upward on high ; it was exceeding light, and sharp,
and operative withal. And the Air which was also light, followed
the Spirit and mounted up to Fire (from the Earth and the
Water), insomuch that it seemed to hang and depend upon it.
7. And .the Earth, and the Water, stayed by themselves so min-
gled together, that the Earth could not be seen for the Water, but
they were moved, because of the Spiritual Word that was carried
upon them.
8. Then said Poemander unto me. Dost thou understand this
Vision, and what it meaneth 1 I shall know, said I : Then said
he, / am that Light, the Minde, thy God, who am before that
moyst Nature that appeared out of darkness ; and that bright and
lighful Word from the Minde, is the Son of God.
9. How is that quoth I ? Thus, replyed he, Understand it :
That which in thee seeth and heareth, the Word of the Lord, and
the Minde, the Father, God, differ not one from the other • and
the union of these, is Life.
Trismeg. I thank thee. Pimand. But first conceive well the
Light in thy minde, and know it.
10. When he had thus said, for a long time we looked stedfastly
one upon the other, insomuch, that I trembled at his Ldea or
Form.
11. But when he nodded to me, I beheld in my minde the
Light that is in innumerable, and the truly indefinite orna?nent or
world ; and that the fire is comprehended or contained in or by a
most great Power, and constrained to keep its station.
12. These things, I understood, seeing the word of Pimander ;
and when I was mightily amazed, he said again unto me, Hast
thou seen in thy minde that Archetypal Form, which was before
the interminated and infinite Beginning % Thus Pimander to
me: But whence quoth I, or whereof are the Elements of Nature
made? Pimander. Of the Will and Counsel of God ; which tak-
ing the Word, and beholding the beautiful World (in the Arche-
type thereof) imitated it, and so made this World, by the princi-
ples and vital Seeds or Soul-like productions of it self.
13. For the Minde being God, Male and Female, Life and
Light, brought forth by his Word ; another Minde, the Work-
man: Which being God of the Fire, and the Spirit, fashioned
and formed seven other Governors, which in their Circles 'contain
234 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
the Sensible World, whose Government or Disposition is called
Fate or Destiny.
14. Straightway leaped out, or exalted it self from the down-
ward born Elements of God, the Word of God, into the clear and
pure Workmanship of Nature, and was united to the Workman,
Minde, for it was Consubstantial • and so the downward born
Elements of Nature were left without Reason, that they might
be the onely Matter.
15. But the Workman, Minde, together with the Word, con-
taining the Circles and Whirling them about, turned round as a
Wheel his own Workmanships ; and suffered them to he turned
from an indefinite Beginning, to an undeterminable End ; for
they always begin where they end.
16. And the Circulation or running round of these, as the
Minde willeth, out of the lower or downward-born Elements
brought forth unreasonable or bruitish Creatures, for they'had no
reason, the Air flying things, and the Water such as swim.
17. And the Earth and the Water were separated, either from
other, as the Minde would ; and the Earth brought forth from her
self, such Living Creatures as she had, four footed and creeping
Beasts, wilde and tame.
18. But the Father of all things, the Minde being Life and
Light, brought forth Man, like unto himself, whom he loved as
his proper Birth ; for he was all beauteous, having the Linage of
his Father.
19. For indeed God was exceedingly enamored of his own Form
or Shape, and delivered unto it all his own Workmanships : But
he seeing and understanding the Creation of the Workman in the
whole, would needs also himself fall to work, and so was separated
from the Father, being in the sphere of Generation or Operation.
20. Having all Power, he considered the Operations or Work-
manships of the Seven', but they loved him, and every one made
him partaker of his own Order.
21. And he learning diligently, and understanding their Es-
sence, and partaking their Nature, resolved to pierce and break
through the Circumference of the Circles, and to understand the
Power of him that sits upon the Fire.
22. And having already all power of mortal things, of the Liv-
ing, and of the unreasonable Creatures of the World, stooped
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 235
down and peeped through the Harmony, and breaking through
the strength of the Circles, so shewed and made manifest the
downward-born Nature, the fair and beautiful Shape or Form of
God.
23. Which when he saw, having in it self the unsatiable
Beauty, and all the Operation of the Seven Governors, and the
Form or Shape of God, he smiled for love, as if he had seen the
Shape or Likeness in the Water, or the shadow upon the Earth of
the fairest Humane form.
24. And seeing in the Water a shape, a shape like unto himself,
in himself he loved it, and would cohabit with it ; and immedi-
ately upon the resolution, ensued the Operation, and brought
forth the unreasonable Image or Shape.
25. Nature presently laying hold of what it so much loved, did
wholly wrap her self about it, and they were mingled, for they
loved one another.
26. And for this cause, Man above all things that live upon
Earth, is double ; mortal, because of his Body, and immortal, be-
cause of the substantial Man : For being immortal, and having
power of all things, he yet suffers mortal things, and such as are
subject to Fate or Destiny.
27. And therefore being above all Harmony, he is made and
become a servant to Harmony. And being Hermaphrodite, or
Male and Female, and watchful, he is governed by, and subjected
to a Father, that is both Male and Female, and watchful.
28. After these things, I said, Thou art my Minde, and I am
in love with Reason.
29. Then said Pimander, This is the Mystery that to this day
is hidden, and kept secret ; for Nature being mingled with Man,
brought forth a Wonder most wonderful ; for he having the Nature
of the Harmony of the Seven, from him whom I told thee, the
Fire and the Spirit, Nature continued not, but forthwith brought
forth seven Men all Males and Females, and sublime, or on high,
accordino; to the Natures of the Seven Governors.
30. And after these things, O Pimander, quoth I, I am now
come into a great desire, and longing to hear, do not digress, or
run out.
31. But he said, Keep silence, for I have not yet finished the
first speech.
236 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
32. Trism. Behold, I am silent.
33. Piman. The Generation therefore of these Seven was after
this maner, The Air being Feminine, and the Water desirous of
Copulation, took from the Fire its ripeness, and from the aether
Spirit ; and so Nature produced bodies after the Species and Shape
of men.
34. And Man was made of Life and Light into Soul and Minde,
of Life the Soul, of Light the Minde.
35. And so all the Members of the Sensible World, continued
unto the period of the end, bearing rule, and generating.
36. Hear now the rest of that speech, thou so much desirest to hear.
37. "When that period was fulfilled, the bond of all things was
loosed and untied by the Will of God ; for all living Creatures
being Hermaphroditical, or Male and Female, were loosed and
untied together with Man ; and so the Males were apart by them-
selves, and the Females likewise.
38. And straight-ways God said to the Holy Word, Encrease
in encreasing, and multiply in multitude all you my Creatures
and Workmanships. And let him that is endued with Minde,
know himself to he immortal / and that the cause of death is the
love of the body, and let him learn all things that are.
39. When he had thus said, Providence by Fate and Harmony,
made the mixtures, and established the Generations, and all things
were multiplied according to their kinde ; and he that knew him-
self, came at length to the Superstantial of every way substantial
good.
40. But he that through the Error of Love, loved the Body,
abideth wandering in darkness, sensible, suffering the things of
death.
41. Trism. But why do they that are ignorant, sin so much,
that they should therefore be deprived of immortality ?
42. Pimand. Thou seemest not to have understood what thou
hast heard.
43. Trism. Peradventure I seem so to thee; but I both under-
stand and remember them.
44. Pimand. I am glad, for thy sake, if thou understoodest
them.
45. Trism. Tell me why are they worthy of death, that are in
death ?
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 237
46. Pimand. Because there goeth a sad and dismal darkness
before its body; of which darkness is the moyst Nature; of which
moyst Nature, the Body consisteth in the sensible World, from
whence death is derived : Hast thou understood this aright?
47. Trism. But why. or how, doth he that understands himself,
go or pass into God '{
48. Pirn. That which the Word of God said, say I : Because
the Father of all things consists of Life and Light, whereof Man
is made.
49. Trism. Thou sayest very well.
50. Pirn. God and the Father is Light and Life, of which Man
is made. If therefore thou learn and beleeve thy self to be of the
Life and Light, thou shalt again pass into Life.
51. Trism. But yet tell me more, O my Minde, how I shall go
into Life.
52. Pirn. God faith, Let the Man endued with a Minde, mark,
consider, and know himself well.
53. Trism. Have not all men a minde?
54. Pint. Take heed what thou sayest, for I the Minde come
unto men that are holy and good, pure and merciful, and that
live piously and religiously ; and my presence is a help unto them.
And forthwith they know all things, and lovingly they supplicate
and propitiate the Father; and blessing him, they give him
thanks, and sing hyms unto him, being ordered and directed by
filial iVffection, and natural Love : And before they give up their
Bodies to the death of them, they hate their Senses, knowing their
Works and Operations.
55. Rather I that am the Minde it self, will not suffer the Op-
erations or Works, which happen or belong to the body, to be
finished and brought to perfection in them ; but being the Porter
and Door-keeper, I will shut up the entrances of Evil, and cut off
the thoughtful desires of filthy works.
56. But to the foolish, and evil, and wicked, and envious, and
covetous, and murderous, and profane, I am far off giving place
to the revenging Demon, which applying unto him the sharpness
of fire, tormenteth such a man sensible, and armeth him the more
to all wickedness, that he may obtain the greater punishment.
57. And such a one never ceaseth, having unfulfillable desires,
and unsatiable concupiscences, and always fighting in darkness;
238 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
for the Demon afflicts and tormenteth him continually, and in-
creaseth the lire upon him more and more.
58. Trism. Thou hast, O Minde, most excellently taught me
all things, as I desired; but tell me moreover, after the return is
made, what then ?
59. Pimand. First of all, in the resolution of the material
Body, the Body it self is given up to alteration, and the form
which it had, becometh invisible; and the idle maners are per-
mitted, and left to the Demon, and the Senses of the Body return
into their Fountains, being parts, and again made up into Opera-
tions.
60. And Anger and Concupiscence go into the bruitish, or un-
reasonable Nature; and the rest striveth upward by Harmony.
61. And to the first Zone it giveth the power it had of increas-
ing and diminishing.
62. To the second, the machination or plotting of evils, and one
effectual deceipt or craft.
63. To the third, the idle deceipt of Concupiscence.
64. To the fourth, the desire of Rule, and unsatiable Ambitions
65. To the fifth, prophane Boldness, and the headlong rashnes.
of Confidence.
6Q. To the sixth, Evil and ineffectual occasions of Riches.
67. And to the seventh Zone, subtile Falshood, alwayes lying
in wait.
68. And then being made naked of all the Operations of Har-
mony, it cometh to the eighth Nature, having its proper power,
and singeth praises to the Father with the things that are, and all
they that are present rejoyce, and congratulate the coming of it;
and being made like to them with whom it converseth, it heareth
also the Powers that are above the eighth Nature, singing praise
to God in a certain voyce that is peculiar to them.
69. And then in order thev return unto the Father, and them-
selves deliver themselves to the powers, and becoming powers,
they are in God.
70. This is the Good, and to them that know to be deified.
71. Furthermore, why sayest thou, What resteth, but that
understanding all men, thou become a guide, and way-leader to
them that are worthy ; that the kinde of Humanity or Mankinde,
may be saved by God ?
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 239
72. When Pimander had thus said unto me, he was mingled
among the Powers.
73. But I giving thanks, and blessing the Father of all things,
rose up, being enabled by him, and taught the Nature, of the
Nature of the whole, and having seen the greatest sight or spec-
tacle.
74. And I began to Preach unto men, the beauty and fairness
of Piety and Knowledg.
75. ye People, Men, born and made of the Earth, which have
given your selves over to drunkenness, and sleep, and to the igno-
rance of God, be sober, and cease your surfeit, whereto you are
allured, and invited by bruitish, and unreasonable sleep.
76. And they that heard me, come willingly, and with one
accord ; and then I said further.
77. Why, Men of the Off-spring of the Earth, why have you
delivered your selves over unto death, hawing power to partake of
immortality t Pepent and change your mindes, you that have
together walked in Error, and have been darkned in ignorance.
78. Depart from that dark light, be partakers of immortality,
and leave or forsake corruption.
79. And some of them that heard me, mocking and scorning,
went away, and delivered themselves up to the way of death.
80. But others casting themselves down before my feet, be-
sought me, that they might be taught ; but I causing them to rise
up, became a guide of mankinde, teaching them the reasons how,
and by what means they may be saved. And I sowed in them
the words of Wisdom, and nourished them with Ambrosian water
of immortality.
81. And when it was Evening, and the Brightness of the same
began wholly to go down, I commanded them to go down, I com-
manded them to give thanks to God ; and when they had finished
their thanksgiving, every one returned to his own lodging.
82. But I wrote in my self, the bounty and beneficence of Pi-
mander • and being filled with what I most desired, I was exceed-
ing glad.
83. For the sleep of the Body 'was the sober watchfulness of the
minde ; and the shutting of my eyes the true sight, and my silence
great with childe, and full of good ; and the pronouncing of my
words, the blossoms and fruits of good things. •
240 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
84. And thus came to pass or happened unto me, which I
received from my minde, that is, Pimander, the Lord of the
Word ; whereby I became inspired by God, with the Truth.
85. For which cause, with my Soul, and whole strength, I give
praise and blessing unto God the Father.
86. Holy is God the Father of all things.
87. Holy is God, whose will is performed, and accomplished by
his own powers.
88. Holy is God, that determineth to be known, and is known
of his own, or those that are his.
89. Holy art thou, that by thy Word hast established all
things.
90. Holy art thou, of whom all Nature is the Image.
91. Holy art thou, whom Nature hath not formed.
92. Holy art thou that art stronger then all power.
93. Holy art thou, that art greater then all excellency.
94. Holy art thou, loho art better then all praise.
95. Accept these reasonable Sacrifices from a pure soid, and a
heart stretched out unto thee.
96. O thou unspeakable, unutterable, to be praised with silence !
97. L beseech thee, that I may never erre from the Knowledg of
thee, look mercifully upon me, and enable me, and enlighten with
this Grace, those that are in ignorance, the brothers of my kinde,
but thy sons.
98. Therefore I beleeve thee, and bear witness, and go into the
Life and Light.
99. Blessed art thou, O Father, thy man would be sanctified
with thee, as thou hast given him all power.
{The end of the second Book.)
THE THIRD BOOK: CALLED THE HOLT SERMON.
1. The glory of all things, God, and that which is Divine, and
the Divine Nature, the beginning of things that are.
2. Gud, and the Minde, and Nature, and Matter, and Opera-
tion, or Working, and Necessity, and the End, and Renovation.
3. For there were in the Chaos, an infinite darkness in the
Abyss or bottomless Depth, and Water, and a subtile Spirit intel-
ligible in Power; and there went out the Holy Light, and the
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismeglstus. 2*1
Elements were coagulated from the Sand out of the moyst Sub-
stance.
4. And all the Gods distinguished the Nature full of Seeds.
5. And when all things were interminated and unmade up, the
light things were divided on high. And the heavy things were
founded upon the moyst Sand, all things being Terminated or
Divided by Fire; and being sustained or hung up by the Spirit,
they were so carried, and the Heaven was seen in /Seven Circles.
6. And the Gods were seen in their Ideas of the Stars, with all
their Signes, and the Stars were numbred with the Gods in them.
And the Sphere was all lined with Ayr, carried about in a circular
motion by the Spirit of God.
7. And every God by his internal power, did that which was
commanded him ; and there were made four footed things, and
creeping things, and such as live in the Water, and such as tlie,
and every fruitful Seed, and Grass, and the Flowers of all Greens,
all which had sowed in themselves the Seeds of Regeneration.
8. As also the Generations of men, to the knowledg of the Di-
vine Works, and a lively or working Testimony of Nature, and a
multitude of men, and the Dominion of all things under Heaven,
and the knowledg of good things, and to be increased in increas-
ing, and multiplied in multitude.
9. And every Soul in Flesh, by the wonderful working of the
Gods in the Circles, to the beholding of Heaven, the Gods, Divine
Works, and the Operations of Nature ; and for Signes of good
things, and the knowledg of the Divine Power, and to finde out
every cunning workmanship of g >od things.
10. So it beginneth to live in them, and to be wise according to
the Operation of the course of the circular Gods ; and to be re-
solved into that which shall be great Monuments, and Remem-
brances of the cunning Works done upon Earth, leaving them to
be read by the darkness of times.
11. And every Generation of living Flesh, of Fruit, Seed, and
all Handicrafts, though they be lost, must of necessity be renewed
by the renovation of the Gods, and of the Nature of a Circle, mov-
ing in number ; for it is a Divine thing, that every worldly tem-
perature should be renewed by nature ; for in that which is Divine,
is Nature also established.
{The end of the Fragments of the third Booh, very imperfect.)
XX— 16
212 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
THE FOURTH BOOK: CALLED THE KEY.
1. Yesterdays Speech, O Asclepius, I dedicated to thee, this
days it is fit to dedicate to Tat, because it an Epitome of those
general Speeches that were spoken to him.
2. God therefore, and the Father, and the Good, O Tat, have
the same Nature, or rather also the same Act and Operation.
3. For there is one name or appellation of Nature and Increase,
which concerneth things changeable, and another about things
unchangeable, and about things immoveable, that is to say, Things
Divine and Humane ; every one of which, himself will have so to
be ; but action or operation, is of another thing, or elsewhere, as
we have taught in other things, Divine and Humane, which must
here also be understood.
4. Tor his Operation or Act, is his Will, and his Tssence, to
i rill all things to he.
5. For what is God, and the Father, and the Good, but the
Being of all things that yet are not, and the existence it self, of
those things that are?
6. This is God, this is the Father, this is the Good, whereunto
no other thing is present or approacheth.
7. For the World, and the Sun, which is also a Father by Par-
ticipation, is not for all that equally the cause of Good, and of
Life, to living Creatures: And if this be so, he is altogether con-
strained by the Will of the Good, without which, it is not possible,
either to be, or to be begotten or made.
8. But the Father is the cause of his Children, who hath a will
both to sowe and nourish that which is good by the Sim.
9. For Good is always active or busie in making; and this can-
not be in any other, but in him that taketh nothing, and yet will-
eth all things to be ; for I will not say, O Tat, making them ; for
he that maketh, is detective in much time, in which sometimes he
maketh not, as also of quantity and quality ; for sometimes he
maketh those things that have quantity and quality, and some-
times the contrary.
10. But God is the Father, and the Good, in being all things;
for he both will be this, and is it, and yet all this for himself (as
is true) in him that can see it.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 243
11. For all things else are for this, it is the property of Good
to be known : This is the Good, O Tat.
12. Tat. Thou hast filled us, O Father, with a sight, both good
and fair, and the eye of my minde is almost become more holy by
the sight or spectacle.
13. Trism. I wonder not at it, for the sight of Good is not like
the Beam of the Sun, which being of a fiery shining brightness,
maketh the eye blinde by his excessive Light, that gazetli upon
it ; rather the contrary, for it enlighteneth, and so much increaseth
the light of the eye, as any man is able to receive the influence of
this intelligible clearness.
14. For it is more swift and sharp to pierce, and innocent or
harmless withal, and full of immortality ; and they that are capa-
ble, and can draw any store of this spectacle, and sight, do many
times fall asleep from the Body, into this most fair and beauteous
Vision ; which thing Celius and Saturn our Progenitors, obtained
unto.
15. Tat. I would we also, O Father, could do so.
16. Trism. I would we could, O Son ; but for the present we
are less intent to the Vision, and cannot yet open the eyes of our
mindes to behold the incorruptible, and incomprehensible Beauty
of that Good : But then shall we see it, when we have nothing at
all to say of it.
IT. For the knowledg of it, is a Divine Silence, and the rest of
all the Senses : For neither can he that understands that, under-
stand any thing else, nor he that sees that, see any thing else, nor
hear any other thing, nor in sum, move the Body.
18. For shining stedfastly upon, and round about the whole
Minde, it enlighteneth all the Soul ; and loosing it from the Bod-
ily Senses and Motions, it draweth it from the Body, and changeth
it wholly into the Essence of God.
19. For it is possible for the Soul, Son, to be deified while
yet it lodgeth in the Body of Man, if it contemplate the beauty of
the Good.
20. Tat. How dost thou mean deifying, Father?
21. Trism. There are differences, O Son, of every Soul.
22. Tat. But how dost thou again divide the changes?
23. Trism. Hast thou not heard in the general Speeches, that
from one Soul of the universe, are all those Souls, which ill all the
244 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
world are tossed up and down, as it were, and severally divided?
Of these Souls there are many changes, some into a more fortunate
estate, and some quite contrary; for they which are of creeping
things, are changed into those of watery things; and those ot
things living in the water, to those of things living upon the Land ;
and Airy ones are changed into men, and humane Souls, that lay
hold of immortality, are changed into Demons.
24. And so they go on into the Sphere or Region of the fixed
Gods ; for there are two quiers or companies of Gods, one of them
that wander, and another of them that are fixed : And this is the
most perfect glory of the Soul.
25. But the Soul entring into the Body of a Man, if it con-
tinue evil, shall neither taste of immortality, nor is partaker of
the good.
26. But being drawn back the same way, it returneth into
creeping things. And this is the condemnation of an evil Soul.
27. And the wickedness of a Soul, is ignorance ; for the Soul
that knows nothing of the things that are, neither the Nature of
them, nor that which is good, but is blinded, rusheth and dasheth
against the bodily Passions; and unhappy, as it is, not knowing
it self, it serveth strange Bodies, and evil ones, carrying the Body
as a burthen, and not ruling, but ruled. And this is the mischief
of the Soul.
28. On the contrary, the vertue of the Soul is Knowledg; for
he that knows, is both good and religious, and already Divine.
29. Tat. But who is such a one, O Father?
30. Trism. He that neither speaks, nor hears many things ; for
he, O Son, that heareth two speeches or hearings, fighteth in the
shadow.
31. For God, and the Father, and Good, is neither spoken nor
heard.
32. This being so in all things that are, are the Senses, because
they cannot be without them.
33. But Knowledg differs much from Sense; for Sense is of
things that surmount it, but Knowledg is the end of Sense.
34. Knowledg is the gift of God ; for all Knowledg is unbodily,
but useth the Minde as an Instrument, as the Minde useth the
Body.
35. Therefore both intelligible and material things, go both of
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 245
them into bodies ; for, of contraposition, that is, setting one against
another, and contrariety ', all things must consist. And it is im-
possible it should be otherwise.
30. Tat. Who therefore is this material God ?
37. Trisrn. The fair and beautiful World, and yet it is not
good ; for it is material, and easily passible, nay, it is the first of
all passible things ; and the second of the things that are, and
needy or wanting somewhat else. And it was once made, and is
always, and is ever in generation, and made, and continually
makes, or generates things that have quantity and quality.
38. For it is moveable, and every material motion is generation ;
but the intellectual stability moves the material motion after this
maner.
39. Because the World is a sphere, that is, a head, and above
the head there is nothing material, as beneath the feet there is
nothing intellectual.
40. The whole universe is material : The Minde is the head,
and it is moved spherically, that is like a head.
41. Whatsoever therefore is joyned or united to the Membrane
or Film of this head, wherein the Soul is, is immortal, and as in
the Soul of a made Body, hath its Soul full of the Body; but
those that are further from that Membrane, have the Body full of
Soul.
42. The whole is a living wight, and therefore consisteth of
material, and intellectual.
43. And the World is the first, and Man the second living wight
after the World, but the first of things that are mortal ; and there-
fore hath whatsoever benefit of the Soul all the other have : And
yet for all this, he is not onely not good, but flatly evil, as being
mortal.
44. For the World is not good, as it is moveable ; nor evil, as
it is immortal.
45. But man is evil, both as he is moveable, and as he is mortal.
46. But the Soul of Man is carried in this maner, The Minde
is in Reason, Reason in the Soul, the Soul in the Spirit, the Spirit
in the Body.
4T. The Spirit being diffused, and going through the veins, and
arteries, and blood, both moveth the living Creature, and after a
certain maner beareth it.
24:6 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
48. Wherefore some also have thought the Soul to be blood,
being deceived in Nature, not knowing that first the Spirit must
return into the Soul, and then the blood is congealed, the veins
and arteries emptied, and then the living thing dieth : And this
is the death of the Body.
49. All things depend of one beginning, and the beginning de-
pends of that which is one and alone.
50. And the beginning is moved, that it may again be a begin-
ning; but that which is one, standeth and abideth, and is not
moved.
51. There are therefore these three, God the Father, and the
Good, the World and Man: God hath the World, and the World
hath Man ; and the World is the Son of God, and Man as it were
the Off-spring of the World.
52. For God is not ignorant of man, but knows him perfectly,
and will be known by him. This onely is healthful to man ; the
Knowledg of God : This is the return of Olympus ; by this onely
the Soul is made good, and not sometimes good, and sometimes
evil, but of necessity Good.
53. Tat. What meanest thou, O Father?
54. Trism. Consider, O Son, the Soul of a Childe, when as yet
it hath received no dissolution of its Body, which is not yet grown,
but is very small : how then if it look upon it self, it sees it self
beautiful, as not having been yet spotted with the Passions of the
Body, but as it were depending yet upon the Soul of the World.
55. But when the Body is grown and distracteth the Soul, it
ingenders Forgetfulness, and partakes no more of the Fair, and
the Good, and Forgetfulness is Evilness.
56. The like also happeneth to them that go out of the Body :
For when the Soul runs back into it self, the Spirit is contracted
into the blood, and the Soul into the Spirit ; but the Mincle being
made pure, and free from these cloathings ; and being Divine by
Nature, taking a fiery Body, rangeth abroad in every place, leav-
ing the Soul to judgment, and to the punishment it hath deserved.
57. Tab. Why dost thou say so, O Father, That the Mincle is
separated from the Soul, and the Soul from the Spirit ? When
even now thou saidst the Soul was the Cloathing, or Apparrel of
the Minde, and the Body of the Soul.
58. Trism. O Son, he that hears must co-understand, and con*
The Divine Pymande?' of Hermes Trismegistus. 247
spire in thought with him that speaks ; yea, he must have his
hearing- swifter and sharper, then the voyce of the speaker.
59. The disposition of these Cloathings or Covers, is done in
an Earthly Body ; for it is impossible, that the Minde should estab-
lish or rest it self, naked, and of it self, in an Earthly Body;
neither is the Earthly Body able to bear such immortality : And
therefore, that it might suffer so great vertuc, the Minde com-
pacted as it were, and took to it self the passible Body of the Soul,
as a Covering or a Cloathing. And the Soul being also in some
sort Divine, useth the Spirit as her Minister and Servant; and the
Spirit governeth the living thing.
60. When therefore the Minde is separated, and departeth from
the Earthly Body, presently it puts on its Fiery Coat, which it
could not do, having to dwell. in an Earthly Body.
61. For the Earth cannot suffer fire, for it is all burned of a
small spark ; therefore is the water poured round about the Earth,
as a Wall or defence, to withstand the flame of tire.
62. But the Minde being the most sharp or swift of all the Di-
vine Cogitations, and mere swift then all the Elements, hath the
fire for its Body.
63. For the Minde which is the Workman of all, useth the fire
as his Instrument in his workmanship ; and he that is the Work-
man of all, useth it to the making of all things, as it is used by
man, to the making of Earthly things onely ; for the Minde that
is upon Earth, voyd, or naked of fire, cannot do the business of
men, nor that which is otherwise the affairs of God.
6-f. But the Soul of Man, and yet not every one, but that which
is pious and religious, is Angelical and Divine. And such a Soul,
after it is departed from the Body, having striven the strife of
Piety, becomes either Minde or God.
65. And the strife of Piety is to know God, and to injure no
Man ; and this way it becomes Minde.
66. But an impious Soul abideth in its own essence, punished
of it self, and seeking an earthly and humane Body to enter
into.
67. For no other Body is capable of an Humane Soul, neither
is it lawful for a Mans Soul to fall into the Body of an unreason-
able living thing: For it is the Law or Decree of God, to preserve
an Humane Soul from so great a contumely and reproach.
248 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
68. Tat. How then is the Sonl of Man punished, O Father ; and
what is its greatest torment ?
69. Ilerm. Impiety, O my Son ; for what Fire hath so great a
flame as it? Or what biting Beast doth so tear the Body, as it
doth the Soul.
70. Or dost thou not see how many Evils the wicked Soul suf-
fereth, roaring and crying out, / am burned, I am consumed, 1
know not what to say, or do, I am devoured, unhappy wretch, of
the evils that compass, and lay hold upon me / miserable that 1
am, 1 neither see nor hear any thing.
71. These are the voyces of a punished and tormented. Soul, and
not as many; and thou, O Son, thinkest, that the Soul going out
of the Body, grows bruitish or enters into a Beast; which is a
very great Error, for the Soul punished after this maner.
72. For the Minde, when it is ordered or appointed to get a
fiery Body for the services of God, coining down into the wicked
Soul, torments it with the whips of Sins, wherewith the wicked
Soul being scourged, turns it self to Murthers, and Contumelies,
and Blasphemies, and divers Violences, and other things by which
men are injured.
73. But into a pious Soul, the Minde entering, leads it into the
Light of Knowledg.
74. And such a Soul is never satisfied with singiug praise To
God, and speaking well of all men ; and both in words and deeds,
alwavs doins; good in imitation of her Father.
75. Therefore, O Son, we must give thanks, and pray, that we
may obtain a good minde.
76. The Soul therefore may be altered or changed into the bet-
ter, but into the worse it is impossible.
77. But there is a communion of Souls; and those of Gods, com-
municate with those men ; and those of men, with those of Beasts.
78. And the better always take of the worse, Gods of Men, Men
of bruit Beasts, but God of all : For he is the best of all, and all
things are less then he.
70. Therefore is the World subject unto God, Man unto the
World, and unreasonable things to Man.
80. But God is above all, and about all ; and the beams of God
are operations ; and the beams of the World are Natures; and the
beams of Man are Arts and Sciences.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 249
81. And Operations do act by the World, and upon man by the
natural beams of the World, but Natures work by the Elements,
and man by Arts and Sciences.
82. And this is the Government of the whole, depending upon
the Nature of the One, and piercing or coming down by the One
Minde, then which nothing is more Divine, and more efficacious
or operative; and nothing more uniting, or nothing is more One.
The Communion of Gods to Men, and of Men to Gods.
83. This is the Bonus genius, or good Demon: blessed Soul
that is fullest of it ! and unhappy Soul that is empty of it.
84. Tat. And wherefore Father %
85. Trism. Know Son, that everv Soul hath the Good Minde ;
for of that it is we now speak, and not of that Minister, of which
we said before, That he was sent from the Judgment.
86. For the Soul without the Minde, can neither do, nor say
any thing; for many times the Minde flies away from the Soul,
and in that hour the Soul neither seeth nor heareth, but is like an
unreasonable thing; so great is the power of the Minde.
87. But neither brooketh it an idle or lazy Soul, but leaves such
a one fastned to the Body, and by it pressed down.
88. And such a Soul, O Son, hath no minde ; wherefore neither
must such a one be called a Man.
89. For Man is a Divine living thing, and is not to be compared
to any bruit Beast that lives upon Earth, but to them that are
above in Heaven, that are called Gods.
90. Rather, if we shall be bold to speak the truth, he that is a
man indeed, is above them, or at least they are equal in power,
one to the other : For none of the things in Heaven will come
down upon Earth, and leave the limits of Heaven, but a man
ascends up into Heaven, and measures it.
91. And he knoweth what things are on high, and what below,
and learneth all other things exactly.
92. And that which is the greatest of all, he leaveth not the
Earth, and yet is above : So great is the greatness of his Nature.
93. Wherefore we must be bold to say, That an Earthly man, is
a mortal God j and that the heavenly God, is an immortal Man.
94. Wherefore, by these two are all things governed, the World,
and Man ; but they and all things else, of that which is One.
{The end of the fourth Booh.)
250 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
THE FIFTH BOOK: THAT GOD IS NOT MANIFEST, AND
YET MOST MANIFEST.
1. This Discourse I will also make to tliee, O Tat, that thou
mayst not be ignorant of the more excellent Name of God.
2. But do thou contemplate in thy Minde, how that which to
many seems hidden and unmanifest, may be most manifest unto
thee.
3. For it were not all, if it were apparent, for whatsoever is
apparent, is generated or made ; for it was made manifest, but
that which is not manifest is ever.
4. For it needeth not to be manifested, for it is always.
5. And he maketh all other things manifest, being unmanifest,
as being always, and making other things manifest, he is not made
manifest.
6. Himself is not made, yet in fantasie he fantasieth all things,
or in appearance he maketh them appear; for appearance is onely
of those things that are generated or made, for appearance is noth-
ing but generation.
7. But he that is One, that is not made nor generated, is also
unapparent and unmanifest.
8. But making all things appear, he appeareth in all, and by
all ; but especially he is manifested to, or in those things wherein
himself listeth.
9. Thou therefore, O Tat, my Son, pray first to the Lord and
Father, and to the Alone, and to the One, from whom is one to
be merciful to thee, that thou mayest know and understand so
great a God ; and that he would shine one of his beams upon
thee in thy understanding.
10. For onely the Understanding sees that which is not mani-
fest, or apparent, as being it self not manifest or apparent; and
if thou canst, O Tat, it will appear to the eyes of thy minde.
11. For the Lord, voyd of envy, appeareth through the whole
world. Thou mayest see the intelligence, and take it in thy
hands, and contemplate the Image of God.
12. But if that which is in thee, be not known or apparent unto
thee, how shall he in thee be seen, and appear unto thee by the
eyes ?
13. But if thou wilt see him, consider and understand the
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 251
Sun, consider the course of the Moon, consider the order of the
Stars.
14. Who is he that keepeth order? for all order is circumscribed
or terminated in number and place.
15. The Sim is the greatest of the Gods in Heaven, to whom
all the heavenly Gods give place, as to a King and potentate ; and
yet he being such a one, greater then the Earth or the Sea, is con-
tent to suffer intinite lesser Stars to walk and move above himself:
whom doth he fear the while, O Son ?
16. Every one of these Stars that are in Heaven, do not make
the like, or an equal course ; who is it that hath prescribed unto
every one, the maner and the greatness of their course ?
IT. This Bear that turns round about its own self, and carries
round the whole World with her, who possessed and made such
an Instrument. [?]
18. Who hath set the bounds to the Sea ? who hath established
the Earth ? for there is some Body, O Tat, that is the Maker and
Lord of these things.
19. For it is impossible, O Son, that either place, or number,
or measure, should be observed without a Maker.
20. For no order can be made by disorder or disproportion.
21. I would it were possible for thee, O my Son, to have wings,
and to flie into the Air, and being taken up in the midst, between
Heaven and Earth, to see the stability of the Earth, the fluidness
of the Sea, the courses of the Rivers, the largeness of the Air, the
sharpness or swiftness of the Fire, the motion of the Stars, and
the speediness of the Heaven, by which it goeth round about all
these.
22. O Son, what a happy sight it were, at one instant, to see all
these; that which is immoveable moved, and that which is hidden
appear and be manifest ?
23. And if thou wilt see and behold this Workman, even by
mortal things that are upon Earth, and in the deep, consider, O
Son, how Man is made and framed in the Womb ; and examine
diligently the skill, and cuning of the Workman, and learn who
it was that wrought and fashioned the beautiful and Divine shape
of Man ' who circumscribed and marked out his eves? who bored
his nostrils and ears? who opened his mouth, who stretched out
and tied together his sinews? who channelled the veins? who
252 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
hardned and made strong the bones? who clothed the flesh with
skin? who divided the fingers and the joynts? who flatted, and
made broad the soals of the feet? who diged the pores? who
stretched out the spleen? who made the Heart like a Pyramisf
who made the Liver broad ? who made the Lights spungy, and
full of holes ? who made the belly large and capacious ? who set
to outward view, the more honorable parts, and hid the filthy
ones.
24. See how many Arts in one Matter, and how many Works
in one Superscription, and all exceedingly beautiful, and all done
in measure, and yet all differing.
25. Who hath made all these things? what Mother? what
Father ? save onely God that is not manifest ? that made all things
by his own Will.
26. And no man says that a statue or an image is made without
a Carver or a Painter, and was this Workmanship made without
a Workman ? O great Blindness, O great Impiety, O great Ig-
norance.
27. Never, O Son Tat, canst thou deprive the Workmanship of
the Workman, rather it is the best Name of all the Names of God,
to call him the Father of all, for so he is alone ; and this is his
work to be the Father.
28. And if thou wilt force me to say any thing more boldly, it
is his Essence to be pregnant, or great with all things, and to
make them.
29. And as without a Maker, it is impossible that any thing
should be made, so it is that he should not always be, and always
be making all things in Heaven, in the Air, in the Earth, in the
Deep, in the whole World, and in every part of the whole, that
is, or that is not.
30. For there is nothing in the whole World, that is not him-
self ; both the things that are, and the things that are not.
31. For the things that are, he hath made manifest; and the
things that are not, he hath hid in himself.
32. This is God that is better then any name ; this is he that is
secret ; this is he that is most manifest ; this is he that is to be
seen by the Minde ; this is he that is visible to the eye ; this is he
that hath no body ; and this is he that hath many bodies, rather
there is nothing of any body, which is not He.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 253
33. For he alone is all things.
34. And for this cause he hath all Names, because he is the One
Father^ and therefore he hath no Name, because he is the Father
of all.
35. Who therefore can bless thee, or give thanks for thee, or to
thee.
36. Which way shall I look, when I praise thee % upward %
downward ? outward ? inward ?
37. For about thee there is no maner, nor place, nor any thing
else of all things that are.
38. But all things are in thee ; all things from thee, thou givest
all things, and takest nothing ; for thou hast all things, and there
is nothing that thou hast not.
39. When shall I praise thee, O Father; for it is neither possi-
ble to comprehend thy hour, nor thy time ?
40. For what shall I praise thee ? for what thou hast made, or
for what thou hast not made? for those things thou hast mani-
fested, or for those things thou hast hidden ?
41. Wherefore shall I praise thee as being of my self, or having
any thing of mine own, or rather being anothers %
42. For thou art what I am, thou art what I do, thou art w T hat
I say.
43. Thou art all things, and there is nothing else thou art not.
44. Thou art thou, all that is made, and all that is not made.
45. The Minde that under standeth.
46. The Father that maketh andframeth.
47. The Good that worketh.
48. The Good that doth all things.
49. Of the Matter, the most subtile and slender part is Air, of
the Air the Soul, of the Soul the Minde, of the Minde God.
{The end of the fifth Book.)
THE SIXTH BOOK: THAT IN GOD ALONE IS GOOD.
1. Good, O Asclepius, is in nothing but in God alone ; or rather
God himself is the Good always.
2. And if it be so, then must he be an Essence or Substance,
voyd of all motion and generation ; but nothing is voyd or empty
of him.
254 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
3. And this Essence hath about or in himself a Stable, and firm
Operation, wanting nothing, most full, and giving abundantly.
4. One thing is the Beginning of all things, for it giveth all
things; and when I name the Good, I mean that which is alto-
gether, and always Good.
5. This is present to none, but God alone ; for he wanteth noth-
ing, that he should desire to have it, nor can any thing be taken
from him ; the loss whereof may grieve him ; for sorrow is a part
of evilness.
6. Nothing is stronger then he, that he should be opposed by
it; nor nothing equal to him, that he should be in love with it;
nothing unheard of to be angry, with nothing wiser to be en-
vious at.
7. And none of these being in his Essence, what remains, but
onely the Good %
8. For as in this, being such an Essence, there is none of the
evils ; so in none of the other things shall the Good be found.
9. For in all other things, are all those other things, as well in
the small as the great, and as well in the particulars, as in this
living Creature; the greater, and mightiest of all.
10. For all things that are made or generated, are full of Pas-
sion, Generation it self being a Passion ; and where Passion is
there is not the Good ; where the Good is, there is no Passion ;
where it is day, it is not night, and where it is night, it is not
day.
11. Wherefore it is impossible, that in Generation should be
the Good, but onely in that which is not generated or made.
12. Yet as the Participation of all things is in the Matter bound,
so also of that which is Good. After this maner is the World
good, as it maketh all things, and in the part of making or doing
{yrou-lv) it is Good, but in all other things not good.
13. For it is passible, and moveable, and the Maker of passible
things.
14. In Man also the Good is ordered (or takeih denomination)
in comparison of that which is evil ; for that which is not very
evil, is here Good ; and that which is here called Good, is the least
particle, or proportion of evil.
15. It is impossible therefore, that the Good should be here pure
from Evil ; for here the Good groweth Evil, and growing Evil,
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismeglstus. 255
it doth not still abide Good ; and not abiding Good, it becomes
evil.
16. Therefore in God alone is the Good, or rather God is the
Good.
17. Therefore, O Asclepius, there is nothing in men (or among
men) but the name of Good, the thing it self is not, for it is im-
possible ; for a material Body receiveth (or comprehended) is not
as being on every side encompassed, and coarcted with evilness,.
and labors, and griefs, and desires, and wrath, and deceipts, and
foolish opinions.
18. And in that which is the worst of all, Asclepius, every one
of the forenamed things, is here beleeved to be the greatest good,
especially that supream mischief yaarpi/xapyla the pleasures of the
Belly, and the ring-leader of all evils : Error is here the absence
of the Good.
19. And I give thanks unto God, that concerning the Knowledg
of Good, put this assurance in my minde, that it is impossible it
should be in the World.
20. For the World is the fulness of evilness ; but God is the
fulness of Good, or Good of God.
21. For the eminencies of all appearing Beauty, are in the Es-
sence more pure, and more sincere, and peradventure they are also
the Essences of it.
22. For we must be bold to say, Asclepius, That the Essence of
God, if he have an Essence, is to icaXov that which is fair or beau-
tiful ; but no good is comprehended in this World.
23. For all things that are subject to the eye, are Idols,,
and as it were shadows ; but those things that are not subject
to the eye, are ever, especially the Essence of the Fair and the
Good.
21. And as the eye cannot see God, so neither the Fair, and
the Good.
25. For these are the parts of God that partake the Nature of
the whole, proper, and familiar unto him alone, inseparable, most
lovely, whereof either God is enamoured, or they are enamoured
of God.
26. If thou canst understand God, thou shalt understand the
Fair, and the Good, which is most shining, and enlightening, and
most enlightened by God.
256 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
27. For that Beauty is above comparison, and that Good is
inimitable, as God himself.
28. As therefore thou understandest God, so understand the
Fair, and the Good ; for these are incommunicable to any other
living Creatures, because they are inseparable from God.
29. If thou seek concerning God, thou seekest or askest also of
the Fair, for there is one way that leads to the same thing, that is
Piety with Knowledg.
30. Wherefore, they that are ignorant, and go not in the way
of Piety, dare call Man Fair and Good, never seeing so much as
in a dream, what Good is; but being infolded and wrapped upon
all evil, and beleeving that the evil is the Good, they by that
means, both use it unsatiably, and are afraid to be deprived of it ;
and therefore they strive by all possible means, that they may not
onely have it, but also encrease it.
31. Such, O Asclepius, are the Good and Fair things of men,
which we can neither love nor hate ; for this is the hardest thing
of all, that we have need of them, and cannot live without them.
(The end of the sixth Booh.)
THE SEVENTH BOOK: HIS SECRET SERMON IN THE MOUNT
OF REGENERATION, AND THE PROFESSION OF SILENCE.
TO HIS SON TAT.
1. Tat. In the general Speeches, O Father, discoursing of the
Divinitie, thou speakest enigmatically, and didst not cleerly reveal
thy self, saying, That no man can be saved before Regeneration.
2. And when I did humbly intreat thee, at the going up to the
Mountain, after thou hadst discoursed unto me, having a great
desire to learn this Argument of Regeneration y because among all
the rest, I am ignorant onely of this thou toldst me thou wouldst
impart it unto me, when I would estrange my self from the
World: whereupon I made my self ready, and have vindicated
the understanding that is in me, from the deceit of the World.
3. Now then fulfill my defects, and as thou saidst instruct me
of Regeneration, either by word of mouth, or secretly ; for 1 know
not, O Trismegistus, of what Substance, or what Womb, or what
Seed a Man is thus born.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 257
4. Herm. O Son, this Wisdom is to be understood in silence,
and the Seed is the true Good.
5. Tat. Who soweth it, O Father? for I am utterly ignorant,
and doubtful.
6. Herm. The Will of God, O Son.
7. And what maner of Man is he, that is thus born? for in this
point, I am clean deprived of the Essence that understandeth
in me.
8. Herm. The Son of God will be another, God made the uni-
verse, that in every thing consisteth of all powers.
9. Tat. Thou tellest me a Riddle Father, and dost not speak as
a Father to his Son.
10. Herm. Son, things of this kinde, are not taught, but are by
God, wdien he pleaseth, brought to remembrance.
11. Tat. Thou speakest of things strained, or far fetcht, and
impossible, Father; and therefore I will directly contradict them.
12. Herm. Wilt thou prove a stranger Son, to thy Fathers
kinde ?
13. Do not envy me, Father, or pardon me, I am thy Natural
Son ; discourse unto me the maner of Regeneration.
14. Herm. What shall I say, O my Son? I have nothing to
say more then this, That I see in my self an unfained sight or spec-
tacle, made by the mercy of God; and I am gone out of rny self,
into an immortal body, and am not now what I was before, but
was begotten in Minde.
15. This thing is not taught, nor is it to be seen in this formed
Element; for which the first compounded form was neglected by
me, and that I am now separated from it; for I have both the
touch, and the measure of it, yet am I now estranged from them.
16. Thou seest, O Son, with thine eyes ; but though thou look
never so stedfastly upon me, with the Body, and bodily sight, thou
canst not see, nor understand what I am now.
17. Tat. Thou hast driven me, O Father, into no small fury
and distraction of minde, for I do not now see my self.
18. Herm. I would, O Son, that thou also wert gone out of thy
self, like them that dream in their sleep.
19. Tat. Then tell me this, who is the Author and Maker of
Regeneration ?
20. Herm. The Childe of God, one Man by the Will of God.
XX— 17
258 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
21. Tat. Now, O Father, thou hast put me to silence for ever,
and all my former thoughts have quite left, and forsaken me ; for
I see the greatness, and shape of all things here below, and noth-
ing but falshood in them all.
22. And sithence this mortal Form is daily changed, and turned
by time into increase, and diminution, as being falshood: What
therefore is true, O Trismegistus f
23. Trism. That, O Son, which is not troubled, nor bounded ;
not coloured, not figured, not changed ; that which is naked,
bright, comprehensible onely of it self, unalterable, unbodilv.
24. Tat. Now I am mad, indeed Father ; for when I thought
me to have been made a wise man by thee, with these thoughts
thou hast quite dulled all my senses.
25. Herm. Yet is it so, as I say, O Son, He that looketh onely
upon that which is carried upward as Fire, that which is carried
downward as Earth, that which is moyst as Water, and that which
bloweth, or is subject to blast as Air ; how can he sensibly under-
stand, that which is neither hard, nor moyst, nor tangible, nor
perspicuous, seeing it is onely understood in power, and operation :
But I beseech and pray to the Minde, which alone can understand
the Generation, which is in God.
26. Tat. Then am I, O Father, utterly unable to do it.
27. Herm. God forbid Son, rather draw or pull him unto thee
(or study to know him) and he will come, he but willing, and it
shall be done: quiet (or make idle) the Senses of the Body, purg-
ing thy self from unreasonable bruitish torments of matter.
28. Tat. Have I any (revengers or) tormentors in my self
Father f
29. Herm. Yea, and those, not a few, but many, and fearful
ones.
30. Tat. I do not know them, Father.
31. Herm. One Torment Son is Ignorance, a second, Sorrow,
a third, Iyitemperance, a fourth, Concupiscence, a fifth, Injustice,
a sixth, Covetousness, a seventh, Deceit, an eighth, Envy, a ninth,
Fraude or Guile, a tenth, Wrath, an eleventh, Rashness, a
twelfth, Maliciousness.
32. They are in number twelve, and under these many more ;
some which through the prison of the body, do force the inwardly
placed Man to suffer sensibly.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 259
33. And they do not suddenly, or easily depart from him that
hath obtained mercy of God ; and herein consists, both the maner,
and the reason of Regeneration.
34. For the rest, O Son, hold thy peace, and praise God in si-
lence, and by that means, the mercy of God will not cease, or be
wanting unto us.
35. Therefore rejoyce, my Son, from henceforward, being purged
by the powers of God, to the Knowledg of the Truth.
36. For the revelation of God is come to us, and when that
came, all Ignorance was cast out.
37. The knowledg of Joy is come unto us, and when that comes,
Sorrow shall flie away to them that are capable of it.
38. I call unto Joy, the power of Temperance, a power whose
Vertue is most sweet : Let ns take her unto our selves, O Son,
most willingly, for how at her coming hath she put away Intem-
perance ?
39. IMow I call the fourth, Continence, the power which is over
Concupiscence. This, O Son, is the stable and firm foundation
of Justice.
40. For see how without labor, she hath chased awaj T Injustice ;
and we are justified, O Son, when Injustice is away.
41. The sixth Vertue which comes into us, I call Corn/m/wiion,
which is against Covetousness.
42. And when that (Covetousness) is gone, I call Truth ; and
when she cometh, Error and Deceit vanisheth.
43. See, O Son, how the Good is fulfilled by the access of
Truth ; for by this means, Envy is gone from us ; for Truth is
accompanied with the Good, together also with Life and Light.
44. And there came no more any torment of Darkness, but
being overcome, they all fled away suddenly, and tumultuarily.
45. Thou hast understood, O Son, the maner of Regeneration ;
for upon the coming of these Ten, the Intellectual Generation is
perfected, and then it driveth away the Twelve ; and we have seen
it in the Generation it self.
46. Whosoever therefore hath of Mercy obtained this Genera-
tion, which is according to God, he leaving all bodily sense, know-
eth himself to consist of divine things, and rejoyceth, being made
bv God stable and immutable.
47. Tat. O Father, I conceive and understand, not bv the sight
260 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
of mine eyes, but by the Intellectual Operation, which is by the
Powers. I am in Heaven, in the Earth, in the Water, in the
Air; I am in living Creatures, in Plants, in the Womb, every
where.
48. Yet tell me further, this one thing, How are the torments
of Darkness, being in number Twelve, driven away and expelled
by the Ten powers ? What is the maner of it, Trismegistus f
49. Henri. This Tabernacle, O Son, consists of the Zodiacal
Circle; and this consisting of twelve numbers, the Idea of one;
but all formed Nature admit of divers Conjugations to the deceiv-
ing of Man.
50. And though they be different in themselves, yet are they
united in practice (as for example, Rashness is inseparable from
Anger) and they are also indeterminate : Therefore with good Rea-
son, do they make their departure, being driven away by the Ten
powers; that is to say, By the dead.
51. For the number of Ten, O Son, is the Begetter of Souls.
And there Life and Light are united, where the number of Unity
is born of the Spirit.
52. Therefore according to Reason, Unity hath the number of
Ten, and the number of Ten hath Unity.
53. Tat. O Father, I now see the Universe, and my self in the
Minde.
54. Herm. This is Regeneration, O Son, that we should not any
longer fix our imagination upon this Body, subject to the three
dimensions, according to this Speech which we have now com-
mented, That we may not at all calumniate the Universe.
55. Tat. Tell me, O Father, This Body that consists of Powers,
shall it ever admit of any Dissolution?
56. Herm. Good words Son, and speak not things impossible ;
for so thou shalt sin, and the eye of thy minde grow wicked.
57. The sensible Body of Nature is far from the Essential Gen-
eration ; for that is subject to Dissolution, but this not ; and that
is mortal, but this immortal. Dost thou not know that thou art
born a God, and the Son of the One, as I am ?
58. Tat. How fain would I, O Father, hear that praise given
by a Hymn, which thou saidst, thou heardst from the Powers,
when I was in the Octonary.
59 Herm. As Pimander said by way of Oracle to the Oeton-
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 201
ary : Thou dost well, O Son, to desire the Solution of the Taber-
nacle, for thou art purified.
60.' Pimander, the Minde of absolute Power and Authority,
hath delivered no more unto me, then those that are written ;
knowing that of my self, I can understand all things, and hear,
and see what I will. And he commanded me to do those things
that are good ; and therefore all the Powers that are in me
sing.
61. Tat. I would hear thee, O Father, and understand these
things.
62. Herm. Be quiet, O Son, and now hearken to that harmoni-
ous blessing and thanksgiving ; the hymn of Regeneration, which
I did not determine to have spoken of so plainly, but to thy self
in the end of all.
63. Wherefore this is not taught, but hid in silence.
64. So then, O Son, do thou, standing in the open Air, worship,
looking to the North Wind, about the going down of the Sun ;
and to the South, when the Sun ariseth : And now keep silence
Son.
The Secret Song.
The Holy Speech.
65. Let all the Nature of the world entertain the hearing of
this Hymn.
66. Be opened, O Earth, and let all the Treasure of the Rain
be opened.
67. You Trees tremble not, for I will sing, and praise the Lord
of the Creation, and the All, and the One.
68. Be opened you Heavens, ye Winds stand still, and let the
immortal Circle of God, receive these words.
69. For I will sing, and praise him that created all things, that
fixed the Earth, and hung up the Heavens, and commanded the
sweet Water to come out of the Ocean, into all the World inhab-
ited, and not inhabited, to the use, and nourishment of all things,
or men.
70. That commanded the fire to shine for every action, both to
Gods, and Men.
71. Let us altogether give him blessing, which rideth upon the
Heavens, the Creator of all Nature. *
262 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
72. This is he that is the Eye of the Minde, and Will accept the
praise of my Powers.
73. O all ye Powers that are in me, praise the One, and the All.
74. Sing together with my Will, all you Powers that are in me.
75. O Holy Knowledg, being enlightened by thee, I magnitie
the intelligible Light, and rejoyce in the Joy of the Minde.
76. All my Powers sing praise with me, and thou my Conti-
nence, sing praise my Righteousness by me ; praise that which is
righteous.
77. O Communion which is in me, praise the All.
78. By me the Truth sings praise to the Truth, the Good
praiseth the Good.
79. O Life, O Light from us, unto you, comes this praise and
thanksgiving.
80. I give thanks unto thee, O Father, the operation or act of
my Powers.
81. I give thanks unto thee, O God, the Power of my opera-
tions.
82. By me thy Word sings praise unto thee, receive by me this
reasonable (or verbal) Sacrifice in words.
83. The powers that are in me, cry these things, they praise the
All, they fulfill thy Will ; thy Will and Councel is from thee unto
thee.
84. O All, receive a reasonable Sacrifice from all things.
85. O Life, save all that is in us ; O Light enlighten, O God
the Spirit; for the Minde guideth (or feedeth) the Word: O
Spirit bearing Workman.
86. Thou art God, thy Man cryeth these things unto thee
through, by the Fire, by the Air, by the Earth, by the Water, by
the Spirit, by thy Creatures.
87. From eternity I have found (means to) bless and praise thee,
and I have wdiat I seek ; for I rest in thy Will.
88. Tat. O Father, I see thou hast sung this Song of praise and
blessing, with thy whole Will ; and therefore have I put and
placed it in my World.
89. JLerm. Say in thy Intelligible World, O Son.
90. Tat. I do mean in my Intelligible World ; for by thy Hymn
and Song of praise, my Minde is enlightened ; and gladly would
I send from my Understanding, a Thanksgiving unto God.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 263
91. Herm. Not rashly, O Son.
92. Tat. In my Minde, O Father.
93. Herm. Those things that I see and contemplate, I infuse
into thee ; and therefore say, thou Son Tat, the Author of thy
succeeding Generations, I send unto God these reasonable sacri-
fices.
94. O God, thou art the Father, thou art the Lord, thou art the
Mhide, accept these reasonable Sacrifices which thou reqnirest
of me.
95. For all things are done as the Minde willeth.
96. Thou, O Son, send this acceptable Sacrifice to God, the
Father of all things; but propound it also, O Son, by Word.
97. Tat. I thank thee, Father, thou hast advised and instructed
me thus to give praise and thanks.
98. Herm. I am glad, O Sun, to see the Truth bring forth the
Fruits of Good things, and such immortal Branches.
99. And learn this of me : Above all other Vertues entertain
Silence, and impart unto no man, O Son, the tradition of Regen-
eration, least we be reputed Calumniators: For we both have now
sufficiently meditated, I in speaking, thou in hearing. And now
thou dost intellectually know thy self, and our Father.
{The end of the seventh Booh.)
THE EIGHTH BOOK OF HERMES TRISMEGISTUS: THAT THE
GREATEST EVIL IN MAN, IS, THE NOT KNOWING GOB.
1. Whether are you carried, O Men, drunken with drinking up
the strong Wine of Ignorance 2 which seeing you cannot bear:
AVhy do you not vomit it up again ?
2. Stand, and be sober, and look up again with the eyes of your
heart ; and if you cannot all do so, yet do as many as you can.
3. For the malice of Ignorance surronndeth all the Earth, and
corrupteth the Soul, shut up in the Body, not suffering it to arrive
at the Havens of Salvation.
4. Suffer not your selves to be carried with the great stream,
but stem the tide, you that can lay hold of the Haven of Safety,
and make your full course towards it.
5. Seek one that may lead you by the hand, and conduct you
to the door of Truth, and Knowledg, where the cleer Light is that
264 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
is pure from Darkness, where there is not one drunken, but all
are sober, and in their heart look up to him, whose pleasure it is
to be seen.
6. For he cannot be heard with ears, nor seen with eyes, nor
expressed in words; but onely in minde and heart.
T. But first thou must tear a peeces, and break through the
garment thou wearest ; the web of Ignorance ; the foundation of
all Mischief; the bond of Corruption; the dark Coverture; the
living Death; the sensible Carcass; the Sepulchre, carried about
with us ; the domestical Thief, which in what he loves us, hates
us, envies us.
8. Such is the hurtful Apparel, wherewith thou art cloathed,
which draws and pulls thee downward by its own self; lest look-
ing up, and seeing the beauty of Truth, and the Good that is re-
posed therein, thou shouldst hate the wickedness of this garment,
and understand the traps and ambushes which it hath laid for
thee.
9. Therefore doth it labor to make good those things that seem,
and are by the Senses, judged and determined ; and the things
that are truly, it hides, and envellopeth in much matter, filling
what it presents unto thee, with hateful pleasure, that thou canst
neither hear what thou shouldst hear, nor see what thou shouldst
see.
(The end of the eighth Booh.)
TEE NINTE BOOK OF EERMES TRISMEGISTUS: A UNI-
VERSAL SERMON TO ASOLEPIVS.
1. Eerm. All that is moved, O Asclepius, is it not moved in
some thing, and by some thing %
2. Aselep. Yes indeed.
3. Herm. Must not that, in which a thing is moved, of necessity
be greater then the thing that is moved ?
4. Of necessity.
5. And that which moveth, is it not stronger then that which
is moved ?
6. Aselep. It is stronger.
7. Uerrn. That in which a thing is moved, must it not needs
have a Nature, contrary to that of the thing that is moved ?
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Irismegistus. 265
8. Asclep. It must needs.
9. Herm. Is not this great World a Body, then which there is
no greater %
10. Asclep. Yes, confessedly %
11. Herm. And is it not solid, as filled with many great Bodies,
and indeed, with all the Bodies that are?
12. Asclep. It is so.
13. Ilerm. And is not the World a Body, and a Body that is
moved %
14. Asclej). It is.
15. Herm. Then what a kinde of place must it be, wherein it is
moved, and of what Nature ? Must it not be much bigger, that
it may receive the continuity of Motion % and lest that which is
moved, should for want of room, be stayed, and hindered in the
Motion.
16. Asclep. It must needs be an immense thing, Trismegistios /
but of what Nature ?
17. Herm. Of a contrary Nature, O Asclepius / but is not the
Nature of things unbodily, contrary to a Body ?
18. Asclep. Confessedly.
19. Herm. Therefore the place is unbodily ; but that which is
unbodily, is either some Divine thing, or God himself. And by
some thing Divine, I do not mean that which was made or be-
gotten.
20. If therefore it be Divine, it is an Essence or Substance ; but
if it be God, it is above Essence; but he is otherwise intelligible.
21. For the first, God is intelligible, not to himself, but to us;
for that which is intelligible, is subject to that which understand-
eth by Sense.
22. Therefore God is not intelligible to himself ; for not being
any other thing from that which is understood, he cannot be un-
derstood by himself.
23. But he is another thing from us ; and therefore is he under-
stood by us.
24. If therefore Place be intelligible, it is not Place but God ;
but if God be intelligible, he is intelligible not as Place, but as a
capable Operation.
25. Now every thing that is moved, is moved, not in or by that
which is moved, but in that which standeth or resteth, and that
266 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
which moveth standeth or resteth ; for it is impossible it should
be moved with it.
26. Aselep. How then, O Trismegistus, are those things that
are here moved with the things that are moved % for thou sayest,
that the Spheres that wander are moved by the Sphere that wan-
ders not.
27. Herm. That, O Asclepius, is not a moving together, but a
countermotion ; for they are not moved after a like maner, but
contrary one to the other : And contrariety hath a standing resist-
ance of motion, for the avTiTviria or resistance, is a staying of
motion.
28. Therefore the wandring Spheres being moved contrarily to
that Sphere which waridereth not, shall have one from another
contrariety standing of it self.
29. For this Bear which thou seest neither rise nor go down,
but turning always about the same ; dost thou think it moveth or
standeth still ?
30. Aselep. I think it moves, Trismegistus.
31. What motion, O Asclepius f
32. Aselep. A motion that is always carried about the same.
33. But the Circulation which is about the same, and the motion
about the same, are both hidden by Station ; for that which is
about the same, forbids that which is above the same, if it stand
to that which is about the same.
34. And so the contrary motion stands fast always, being
always established by the contrariety.
35. But I will give thee concerning this matter, an earthly ex-
ample that may be seen with eyes.
36. Look upon any of these living Creatures upon Earth, as
Man for example, and see him swiming ; for as the Water is car-
ried one way, the reluctation or resistance of his feet and hands
is made a station to the man, that he should not be carried with
the Water, nor sink underneath it.
37. Aselep. Thou hast laid down a very cleer example, Trisme-
gistus.
38. Herm. Therefore every motion is in station, and is moved
of station.
39. The motion then of the World, and of every material living
thing, happeneth not to be done by those things that are without
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 267
the World ; but by those things within it, a Soul, or Spirit,
or some other unbodily thing, to those things which are with-
out i't.
40. For an inanimated Body doth not now, much less a Body if
it be wholly inanimate.
41. Asdep). What meaneth thou by this, O Trismegistus f
Wood and Stones, and all other inanimate things, are they not
moving Bodies?
42. Herm. By no means, O Asdepius, for that within the Body
which moves the inanimate thing, is not the Body ; that moves
both as well the Body of that which beareth, as the Body of that
which is born; for one dead or inanimate thing, cannot move an-
other ; that which moveth, must needs be alive if it move.
43. Thou seest therefore how the Soul is surcharged, when it
carrieth two Bodies.
44. And now it is manifest, that the things that are moved are
moved in something, and by something.
45. Asclej). The things that are moved, O Trismegistus, must
needs be moved in that which is void or empty, vacuum, icevov.
46. Be advised, O Asdepius, for of all the things that are, there
is nothing empty, onely that which is not, is empty and a stranger
to existence or being.
47. But that which is, could not be if it were not full of exist-
ence ; for that which is in being or existence, can never be made
empty.
48. Asclep. Are there not therefore some things that are empty,
O Trismegistus, as an empty Barrel, an empty Hogshead, an
empty Well, an empty Wine-Press, and many such like?
49. Herm. O the grossness of thy Error, O Asdepius, those
things that are most full and replenished, dost thou account them
voyd and empty ?
50. Asdep. What may be thy meaning Trismegistus f
51. Herm. Is not the Air a Body?
52. Asdep. It is a Body.
53. Herm. AVhy then this Body, doth it not pass through all
things that are ? and passing through them, fill them ? and that
Body doth it not consist of the mixture of the four? therefore all
those things which thou callest empty, are full of Ayr.
54. Therefore those things that thou callest empty, tUou ought-
268 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
est to call them hollow, not empty ; for they exist and are full of
Ayr and Spirit.
55. Asclep. This reason is beyond all contradiction, O Trisme-
gistus, but what shall we call the Place, in which the whole Uni-
verse is moved ?
56. Herm. Call it incorporeal, O Asclep'ais.
57. Asclep. What is that incorporeal or unbodily ?
58. Herm. The Minde and Reason, the whole, wholly compre-
hending it self, free from all Body, undeceiveable, invisible, im-
passible from a Body it self, standing fast in it self, capable of all
things, and that savor of the things that are.
59. Whereof the Good, the Truth, the Archetypal Light, the
Archetype of the Soul, are as it were Beams.
60. Asclep. Why then, what is God?
61. Herm. That which is none of these things, yet is, and is the
cause of Being to all, and every one of the things that are ; for he
left nothing destitute of Being.
62. And all things are made of things that are, and not of things
that are not ; for the things that are not, have not the nature to
be able to be made ; and again, the things that are, have not the
nature never to be, or not to be at all.
63. Asclep. What dost thou then say at length, that God is ?
64. Herm. God is not a Minde, but the Cause that the Minde
is ; not a Spirit, but the Cause that the Spirit is ; not Light, but
the Cause that Light is.
65. Therefore we must worship God by these two Appellations,
which are proper to him alone, and to no other.
66. For neither of all the other, which are called Gods, nor ot
Men, nor Demons, or Angels, can any one be, though never so
little, good, save onely God alone.
67. And this He is, and nothing else ; but all other things are
separable from the nature of Good.
68. For the Body and the Soul have no place that is capable of,
or can contain the Good.
69. For the greatness of Good, is as great as the Existence of
all things, that are both bodily and unbodily, both sensible and
intelligible.
70. This is the Good, even God.
71. See therefore that thou do not at any time, call ought else
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 269
Good, for so thou shalt be impious, or any else God, but onely
the Good, for so thou shalt again be impious.
72. In Word it is often said b^ all men the Good, but all men
do not understand what it is; but through Ignorance they call
both the Gods, and some men Good, that can never either be or
be made so.
73. Therefore all the other Gods are honored with the title and
appellation of God, but God is the Good, not according to Heaven,
but Nature.
74. For there is one Nature of God, even the Good, and one
kinde of them both, from whence all are kindes.
75. For he that is Good, is the giver of all things, and takes
nothing ; and therefore God gives all things, and receives nothing.
76. The other title and appellation, is the Father, because of
his making all things : for it is the part of a Father to make.
77. Therefore, it hath been the greatest and most Religious care
in this life, to them that are Wise, and well-minded, to beget chil-
dren.
78. As likewise it is the greatest misfortune and impiety, for
any to be separated from men without children ; and this man is
punished after Death by the Demons, and the punishment is this :
To have the Soul of this childless man, adjudged and condemned,
to a Body that neither hath the nature of a man, nor of a woman,
which is an accursed thing under the Sun.
79. Therefore, O Aselejpius, never congratulate anj T man that is
childless ; but on the contrary pity his misfortune, knowing what
punishment abides, and is prepared for him.
80. Let so many, and such maner of things, O Aselepius, be
said as a certain precognition of all things in Nature.
(The end of the ninth Booh.)
270 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
AGNOSTIC REALISM.
Some Philosophical Criticisms on Certain Aspects of Agnosticism.
W. L. SHELDON.
Agnosticism is not quite as old as philosophy. The natural mind
is rather impressed with what it knows than with what it does not
know. Explanation seems quite a simple thing to undeveloped
thought. Men are not given to doubting their own capacity, and
least of all to doubting their own wisdom. But, as soon as philo-
sophical thinking had expanded to any extent, an active intellect
would begin to notice the countless contradictions in every system
presented, even in such a one as he could make himself, and then
the conclusion w T as at hand : I do not know ; nobody knows ; no-
body can ever know. The ultimate grounds of such a reasoning
have at all times been pretty much the same. It was always the
disputed and unsolved problems as to the nature of sensations and
consciousness. Among the ancients it was " the deceitfulness of
the senses" ; at the present time it is the impossibility of account-
ing for consciousness on a scientific basis. And yet, do something
with it we must, and what shall we make of it ? Pronounce it
unexplainable, answers Du Bois-Reymond, and thus we have dis-
posed of it. Posit it as the subjective side of things, say Helm-
holtz and Mr. Speucer. Take it as consciousness, add Lotze and
Paulsen, and presume that everything has more or less of con-
sciousness. Call it spirit, responds the idealist, for all is spirit.
These suggestions all have an illusive air about them. We feel
attracted to each one of them until we discover troublesome con-
tradictions on every side.
The language of Du Bois-Reymond sounds really naive. That
which of all things is given to our most immediate cognition, that
which in fact constitutes our only immediate knowledge, that
which is the means through which we gather any and all knowl-
edge whatever, that consciousness we shall pronounce altogether
unexplainable. Truly, in making snch an assertion, the scientist
must have had an extraordinary motive. Call nature unexplain-
able, assert the basis of the world as unknown and unknowable,
lay the origin of things among the problems which can never be
Agnostic Realism. 271
solved, posit mystery when and wherever one will, only do not
draw the veil of mystery over that which is the veil itself, do not
pronounce that as unknowable which of all tilings is alone given
to us as immediately known. The fact is, the scientist does not
perceive where he can place it in his general theory of things. He
not only cannot place it, but for consistency's sake he would rather
have it out of the way. It is a troublesome factor in his calcula-
tions. He has established a law which he wishes to believe uni-
versal — the everlasting persistency of forcing nature. An old
energy may not altogether vanish, a new energy not appear in
existence. " Mechanical causes exhaust themselves in mechanical
effects," says Du Bois-Reymond. Had he senses delicate and far-
reaching enough, he could follow the sensations along the nerves
up to the brain, he could watch the whole mechanical process in
all its details ; had he a faculty of calculating sufficiently broad,
he could prophecy in advance every movement which the physi-
cal organism would make; that organism would be completely
known and explainable by him in all its manifestations, and
yet, by his own acknowledgment, he would meet no trace of
consciousness anywhere. The physical structure in all its acts
becomes through itself intelligible, and consciousness is a snperflu.
ous factor. It cannot be the brain, because we can know the
brain in all its movements; it cannot act upon the brain, because
then it would introduce a new force, and all the actions can be
accounted for through the laws of the brain and its physical envi-
ronment. Nature and consciousness can thus have no mutual in-
fluence and dependency, else an old force would be lost track of,
or a wholly new force appear ; and we can account for every force
that goes into and comes out of the physical organism, without
taking any account of consciousness whatever.
And thus consciousness cannot manifest itself at all, and the sci-
ence of psychology is annihilated. Every psychical manifestation
can be explained and can be foreseen as taking place through me-
chanical causes. Moral science is thus a fallacious notion, and all
history an illusion. The eleven long years, for example, which
the historian Buckle devoted to writing his immortal work, were
thrown away on mistaken analogies. The great laws of human
development which he gathered out of his analysis had no actual
realization outside of his own fertile imagination. Sociology is but
272 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
physiology in union with physics and chemistry. Had he wished
to establish actual laws, he should have gone to the study of anat-
omy. He assembled his facts out of writings. But those writings
were mechanical facts and took place wholly through mechanical
laws, because those laws can account for them, and the assumption
of any new psychical cause would be contrary to the conserva-
tion of energy.
We believe we have been drawing conclusions quite logically
from the statements of Du Bois-Reymond, and yet without doubt
he makes his every motion wholly contrary to any such conclu-
sions. If he is in conversation with another, he no doubt assumes
that he is in communication with another consciousness. And
yet by his theory the assumption is superfluous. According to
his mechanical view of things, had he senses delicate enough, and
a sufficiently extensive knowledge of physical laws, he could pene-
trate the physiological structure of that individual, and anticipate
every expression which the mouth would utter, and yet nowhere
come in contact with a consciousness ; and nevertheless he is con.
vinced that he is in communication with such a one ; but he may
have the conviction only through the physical manifestation, which
then must have been acted upon by consciousness. One belief
evidently does not agree with the other. We see, then, the mistake
in his position. We may assume an unknown and an unused factor
as unexplainable, likewise a factor that does not quite agree with
our theory but has no definite connection to it. But we may not
assume a factor as unexplainable which we look upon as existing,
and which we use in all our reasoning, just because that factor ap-
pears to be in contradiction to our theory. Either the theory must
account for the factor and put itself in harmony with it, or else
it must withdraw from the field. The principle of the conserva-
tion of energy must explain consciousness as manifesting itself, or
else acknowledge itself to be no absolute law. We have every
evidence that consciousness can and does act upon the sensible
world. We may apply the very same criteria which are used in
all inductive science, and the same criteria which they make use
of to prove the law of energy. We notice that certain acts or se-
ries of acts of the physical organism take place only when pre-
ceded by certain states of consciousness, and we notice that these
acts vary as the states of consciousness vary. We can apply these
Agnostic Realism. 273
laws much more closely than the physiologist, whose application
is really one of analogy or deduction from general mechanical
phenomena. We do not pretend that consciousness constitutes
any new substance or that it may introduce any new force. We
only insist that in giving an explanation as to the nature of things
every factor presented must be taken into account, and must be
made to agree w r ith any general theory — until that is done, the
theory can only be provisional. We may not assume that as un-
knowable which we use as real and knowable. Such an agnos-
tic realism contains a logical contradiction. We shall notice this
mistake even more definitely in examining some phases of the
English psychology.
The revival of agnosticism may be said to be due chiefly to the
influence of Locke. Although his philosophy is obscured by the
theological restraint which he manifests in all his writings, yet
it is quite plain that he believed the actual substance of things to
be unapproachable and unknowable. Professor Paulsen, of Ber-
lin, was justified in asserting that he was a genuine forerunner of
the metaphysics of Kant. He ventured to pronounce the sensa-
tions to be subjective in their nature, and wholly unlike anything
without the consciousness. Color, sound, and taste had no objective
reality. Then, however, he made a singular distinction that tends
to vitiate his whole theory. These sensations he looked upon as
secondary qualities, whereas certain other qualities, such as the
relations of space, figure, motion, impenetrability, and the like, he
considered primary and real, given to the mind as actual elements
of the objective world. We would lay less stress upon the destruc-
tion thus presented, did we not feel that it likewise inheres in
most of the modern English psychology, though in a disguised
form and with manifold protestations against it. The chief reason
that could be given in its behalf would be that these so-called pri-
mary qualities seem to be always present, and to be less variable
in character. But the fact which such a distinction does not no-
tice is that we use the secondary ones to get a knowledge of those
which he calls primary. These sensations of color, sound, and
taste make up our most immediate perceptions, and it is through
these sensations that we may gather or infer any other qualities
and relations. Those which he calls primary have only an exist-
ence for us as cohering with the secondary ; they may, in "fact, be
XX— 18
274 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
looked upon as expressing qualities and relations of the ones lie
has named as secondary. And if the sensations be subjective and
ideal, in no way representing anything outside of the conscious-
ness, may we think their qualities and relations as objective and
actual % No wonder that, in the face of such a contradiction, Berke-
ley should have fallen back upon pure idealism. If the sensations
be wholly subjective in character, we may either assume that they
represent something like them outside of us, or else that the ob-
jective world is wholly unknown. AVe see, then, the difference of
method and result displayed by the German metaphysicians as
contrasted with the English psychologists. Kant postulates the
forms of our knowledge, such as space, time, and the categories, as
wholly subjective. The sensations in that case, in passing through
them, must become so modified as to give us no positive knowledge
of the world from whence they came. Locke, on the other hand,
postulates the sensations as wholly subjective; but then, strangely
enough, he presumes their forms and relations to be objective,
pure and real representatives of the qualities of actual things.
And the psychologist of to-day, while making the same postulates,
nevertheless asserts in like manner the existence of some ontologi-
cal order that shall correspond to the order of the subjective phe-
nomena. The language seems vague, and the reasons in behalf
of such a conviction ambiguous. We recognize such a realism as
contrary to the agnostic basis which they have already laid down.
In examining the theory of agnosticism, let us seek to make
plain on just what points all philosophers appear to coincide. AVe
will presume, for example, that we are standing on an eminence
under the open sky — a friend is also present — we are looking at
the scene around us; it is made up of what we call the green val-
leys, the blue sky, the white and fleecy clouds, a throng of col-
ors, lights, and shadows. AVe seem to hear the voices of men float-
ing up to us from below. AVe seem to detect the scent of plants
and flowers wafted to us by the breeze. AA r e appear to perceive
the form of the friend at our side and to recognize the sound of
his voice, and now as philosophers we ask, what does this scene
really mean to us, what of it all do we believe to have an object-
ive existence beyond our consciousness? AA r e believe at any rate
that we are in communication with another consciousness whom
we call our friend. AVe believe that we have this throng of sen-
Agnostic Realism. 275
sations that goes to make up this extensive scene, and we believe
that the second consciousness has a like set of sensations. And
now we ask, may we presume that these sensations represent an
objective reality which resembles them ( The empiricist hesitates.
" Das Auge mit dem wir zu sehen glauben ist selhst nur em
Product unsrer Vorstellung" answers Lange. May we not then
at least suppose that the sensations have an objective cause
outside of all consciousness? The idealist hesitates. " Fur das
Individuuiii sind die andere Intelligenzen die ewige Trage des
Universums^ responds Schelling. We ask the agnostic why the
sensations, though subjective, may not have a resemblance to an
objective reality. He will possibly reply, Because that to which we
have reduced the sensations manifests no likeness to the sensations
themselves. Just what do they mean by reducing them to their
causes? Apparently it implies a reduction ot them to one class of
causes; but in reality it is a reduction of them all to one class of
sensations. In this respect they have really made a discovery.
They believe that they can show that many of the sensations, if
not all of them, are either preceded or accompanied by vibrations
of some kind, and where are the vibrations ? External to us in the
objective world, of course. And how do we detect the evidence
of these vibrations? Chiefly through experiments in using the
sense of seeing. But he has pronounced the sensations all subject-
ive. " A unit of motion has nothing in common with a unit of
feeling," says Spencer. We meet thus in the scientific agnosti-
cism the plainest contradiction, and yet many of the scientists of
the present day, who believe the sensations to be wholly unlike
the objective nature which causes them, nevertheless use these
same sensations to prove that what does actually precede them is
vibrations. As though vibrations themselves were anything but
expressions in the language of the very sensations which have been
assumed as having no reality ! We thus, as it were, make use of
an unknowable to explain another unknowable. We introduce a
realism that we have already denied. What we may discover is
this, that, while or before we are having the sensations of sound,
we could also have certain sight sensations of vibration, did we
only have eyes delicate enough to perceive them. But, by the
theory of the scientist, the vibrations themselves are equally sub-
jective with the sounds. The utmost we can assert is -that the
276 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
unknown objective cause would excite the appearance of vibra-
tions along with the appearance of the tones. But that does not
give us any evidence that the ultimate unknown cause can actu-
ally be called vibrations at all.
Mr. Spencer would be inclined to evade such a contradiction in
another way. He does not apply to consciousness quite so ex-
treme an unknowableness as Du Bois-Reymond. "With him it is
simply the subjective side of things. As subjective it is knowa
ble, but he confesses his agnosticism in attempting to reduce it to
an absolute unity with that which he assumes as objective. It is
true that all the sensations and their relations, all these physical,
chemical, and biological laws, gravitation, molecular motion, and
vital action, all give to us only subjective phenomena, and do not
represent any actual existing realities of the external world ; though
they do point to some persistent force which causes in us these
subjective states with all their attendant relations. These states can
only be used as " symbols " of that unknown. In his own language,
"That which is objectively a wave of molecular motion propagated
through a nerve-center is subjectively a unit of feeling." " But
a unit of motion has nothing in common with a unit of feeling."
The wave of molecular motion is, then, objective, according to his
view. His application is, of course, to another consciousness than
Lis own. And how do we get a knowledge of this objective mo-
lecular wave which is the objective side ot that other conscious-
ness ? Through his own sensations, of course. But his own sen-
sations, by his theory, are subjective and have nothing in common
with the objective existence. Then the molecular wave is, after all,
also subjective. Logically then, that which is the subjective side
•of his own consciousness, is the objective side of another conscious-
ness, and vice versa. But the really objective side of things is
unknowable. Hence, if he will be logical, he must restate his as-
sertion. That unknowable something which causes in us the pict-
ure of a wave of molecular motion is the objective side of another
•consciousness whose subjective side is a unit of feeling. Possibly
Mr. Spencer would not accept that interpretation, but it seems to
be the only consistent language he could use. His theory, then,
grows less lucid and more complicated. We were already removed
through one barrier from the explanation of external nature. We
now seem by two barriers removed from an explanation of con-
Agnostic Realism. 277
sciousness. We had already a symbolism ; now we have a symbol-
ism'of a symbolism. Mr. Spencer does not adhere to his own ag-
nosticism in his evolution of consciousness. He makes use of an
agnostic realism instead of symbolism. He appears to assume that
he is in direct communication with the objective side of another
consciousness. Any one who reads his '* Special Synthesis" must
observe that it is, in many respects, the purest Spinozism. Con-
sciousness and the physical world are posited as the subjective and
the objective sides of the same thing, whatever takes place in con-
sciousness being but a repetition in the subjective mode of that
which takes place without us in the material world. He proceeds
thus to evolve consciousness wholly as an objective factor. All
those motions and manifestations to which he attributes a subject-
ive side he can explain objectively. It is but an automatic action
constantly growing in complication. With the increased com-
plexity, consciousness appears, but to itself only, not as a control-
ling and influential factor. The automaton continues an automa-
ton. We can explain the whole structure as an involved and intri-
cate reflex action. We can develop the psychical states from the
side of the molecular activities ; the subjective element under given
conditions simply appears and accompanies the movement as a
consciousness. We ask, then, why assume a subjective side, when
the supposition is unnecessary in accounting tor the objective
manifestations % The objective side can account for itself. But he
believes that a consciousness does reveal itself, and if so, it must
reveal itself through these manifestations, and in that case they do
not account for themselves.
We do not see, then, that Mr. Spencer has advanced one step
in his evolution by postulating consciousness and molecular action
as being but the two sides of the same thing. We do not wish to
go into a metaphysical discussion as to what things may be called
the "same," but we do not think that the closest mutual association
and dependence necessarily lead to that conclusion. He has rec-
ognized by his own test that they do not resemble one another,
and have nothing in common with one another. It is true, they
may be but two sets of manifestations proceeding from the same
unseen power. We may say on the same ground that the whole
universe is but a single power disclosing itself in various ways. It
is a pleasing thought, but a superfluous hypothesis. That is but a
278 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
constant striving to explain what has already been agreed upon as
unknowable. The manifestations are the things to us, and what
we have to do is to explain the relations in which they stand to
one another. And we only insist that the evolutionist shall ad-
here to his symbolism, that he shall stand by his avowed agnos-
ticism. He has recognized that consciousness is a different mani-
testation of the unknowable from the physical activities. He can-
not make it one, then, with such activities, and cannot explain it
through them. In so far as it manifests itself it must be explained
through itself. It may be that it stands in so close connection
with the physical organism that it appears in existence with it, and
vanishes with it again out of existence. While it does live, how-
ever, it has its own life and its own laws, and is just as real as the
matter with which it is associated. It can not be called the sub-
jective side of matter, but only the subjective side of that un-
knowable whose objective side is called matter. That may also
be the meaning of Mr. Spencer, but it is not the meaning which
he employs in his evolution.
In opposition to such a strained and modified dualism, the
theory of the idealist may seem more satisfactory and to a greater
degree consistent with itself. We shall probably, however, meet
with a like double way of reasoning, such as appears to charac-
terize all systems of philosophical speculation. At first the mo-
nistic conception of the idealist strikes us as very plausible.
The theory seems logical in the extreme. Holbach himself, as
the apostle of materialism, was constrained to confess that he
found the exposition of Berkeley the most difficult of all the op-
posing systems which he had to refute. And it was not strange,
because they appeared to set out from the same general basis.
That knowledge was limited to ideas, was the opinion of Berkeley.
That knowledge was made up of sensations, was the view of Hol-
bach. Knowledge of a thing is being conscious of a thing, the
idealist would say. We cannot know anything of which we are
not conscious ; states of consciousness cannot exist apart from
the consciousness itself; hence the world of our knowledge con-
sists exclusively of conscious states. Such a theory does not deny
the reality of the actual world, it only denies the reality of our in-
ferences as to the unknowable. It has for its motto, just as truly
as materialism, the saying of Fuerbach, " Begniige dich mit der
Agnostic Realism. 279
gegebenen Welt" and it does seem as though one was met with
a throng of confusing and contradictory notions, when one at-
tempts to analyze the prevalent conception of matter as something
actually objective to all that he is himself. Instead of being one
special thing, it is discovered to be only a bundle of associations
made by one's own mind. Matter implies chiefly space and space-
relations, and they imply simply elements of sight-sensations.
Whatever we can associate with this class of sensations we call
matter. It is a striking fact that almost all phenomena admit of
such an association in time. Whatever we cannot in some way
connect with what we see, we incline to attribute to a spiritual
agency. If, on the contrary, all sensations could be connected
with the relations of sound rather than with the relations of vision,
would we not have a materialism of sound-relations, instead of a
materialism of space-relations? All such theorists fail to remem-
ber that vision as well as hearing is subjective, and in that case
that the space-relations and the relations of sound are subjective
also. Mr. Spencer seeks to escape the proposition of idealism
with his criterion of inconceivability. But it may be doubted
whether the criterion really applies. Does the natural mind so
explicitly believe that his sensations are external to his own con-
sciousness? We look at a tree, and believe, it is true, that there
is a greater spacial disagreement between our hand and the tree
than between our hand and our foot. That is, we believe that it
would require a longer time and a greater number of special acts
to associate a sense of touch with the tree than with the foot. But
the sensations may still be subjective. We pronounce dreams to be
subjective, and yet while dreaming we have the same vivid beliefs
of so-called externality as when awake. What we would call the
outness of the sensations has therefore a reference to their rela-
tions to one another, and not to their relations to consciousness as
a whole.
He must feel, then, that by the theory of agnosticism the ideal-
ists liave a strong position. But there is one fact which they
cannot consistently account for. They fully believe in the plural-
ity of consciousnesses, and yet the logical idealist can never get one
step outside of himself. He denies the inference of a material
substratum to his sensations, and nevertheless he believes in spir-
itual substrata without himself, from whence come many of his
280 The Journal of /Speculative Philosophy.
ideas. But we may inquire why, if his ideas of the natural world
have their origin in his own consciousness, may not the ideas which
he attributes to another consciousness also really have their foun-
dations within himself? In attempting to respond, he breaks the
logical chain of his reasoning. He falls back upon a realism
which he has rejected, and attributes a knowable objectivity to
that which he has said to be unknowable. Fichte was obliged to
appeal to the evidence of the moral law within him. But that was
only an appeal to the strength of his natural belief. It continues
to be only a belief and not a knowledge. And he would be loath
to make use of the same strength of conviction as evidence in any
other matter. It would be a dangerous loophole which the real-
ist might employ as well. We see thus the agnosticism of the
idealist likewise betraying itself into a contradiction.
Many have felt themselves attracted to a theory which has been
gaining ground in philosophical circles, and which had its strong-
est advocate in Lotze. It appears to be half pantheism and half
poetry, the conception of a conscious matter and a conscious uni-
verse. It has grown out of the same difficulty of explaining the
origin of the sensitive w r orld, and we shall probably discover in
the theory the same evasion of agnosticism through an assumed
realism that we have already met on every hand. They see that
a certain set of so-called material elements and forces come to-
gether and make a given set of manifestations. They conclude
that these manifestations reveal the existence of a consciousness
which has, however, no resemblance whatever to the material ac-
tivities from whence it sprung. AVhence came it, then % Could
it have arisen out of nothing? Unthinkable. What, then, shall
we say as to its appearance? They seem to discover bat one an-
swer. They deny the appropriateness of the question. Why
should we presume that it had any origin at all ? Why may it
not be as eternal as matter itself? Why may it not be an inher-
ent quality of matter? The problem in that case was no problem
at all. And thus, in the language of Paulsen, " Es wird der Natv/r
die Seele zurilckgegeben ," and Lotze adds, " Kein Theil des
Seienden ist mehr unbelebt und unbeseelt." We have in this way
a whole universe made up of points of force, each possessing sensa-
tion, consciousness, and will. The thought is so beautiful that
one hesitates to inquire after its foundations. Lotze, too, has his
Agnostic Realism. 281
agnosticism. With him the mastery of all mysteries is the nature
of force. We can never determine how an effect is possible, and
through what it can take place. We can only decide under what
conditions a given effect may appear. And yet we see him as-
suming a knowledge of that force which he has declared to be
so unknowable. A body to execute an effect must be a self-exist-
ence possessing a consciousness and will, according to his theory.
Every cause must be a conscious cause. And so we have an ob-
jective world whose every movement is the manifestation of some
sensitive existence. " Jener Staub ist nur Staubfilr den welcher
ihn belastigt," 1 he adds. But we must ask why he insists that
force can only be exercised by a conscious and willing energy \
We perceive that he is already striving to enter into that myste-
rious temple whose portal, by his own statement, must remain
forever closed. For acts that resemble our own we may be justi-
fied in assuming the presence of another existent self, but for the
acts of the universe at large we will postulate no agency that we
cannot approach. We have nothing with which to put such acts
in analogy. They must continue to be to us what they always
have been — simply acts.
Another ground for the same theory attempts to have an empiri-
cal basis. It would seem to rest on the law of the conservation of
energy. It asserts that sensation is wholly unlike the causes from
whence it came ; it could not have sprung out of nothing, it can-
not be a new force, it must, therefore, have had an original inher-
ence in matter as it was ; and why, we ask, must a cause resemble
an effect ? Why, on the appearance of consciousness, must we think
that it can not be a new product wholly unlike the forces out
of which it arose? Because the composition of several chemical
atoms presents a new set of qualities wholly unlike those of the
atoms themselves, must we suppose that these new qualities all lay
un manifested in the original atoms? We have no evidence to
that effect. And may not a new product come into existence and
go out of existence ? Whence came that reflection that was thrown
on the water, and whither did it go ? It appeared and it vanished
That individual reflection existed and ceased to exist. It was just
as actual as the material causes that produced it. And may not a
combination of physical causes unite to produce a consciousness,
and will not that consciousness have an actual existence distinct
282 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
from its physical basis, although it be as evanescent as the compo-
sition of causes out of which it sprang? We do not assume that
the reflection on the water or the shadow on the ground had any
original inherence in their causes. Why, then, insist upon such
an assumption with regard to sensation? One has just as much
reality as the other. We must recognize the fact that change is
just as actual as persistence, and the newness of a product just
as real as the conservation of the forces from whence it came. A
law of absolute and universal persistency in nature would contain
the plainest contradiction to the facts from whence it was drawn,
and cannot, therefore, be maintained without philosophical sui-
cide.
We have not been going into this discussion with any intention
of ref uting agnosticism ; we wish to see all its adherents and advo-
cates remaining faithful to the theorv with which they have set
out. But the natural inclination is very strong to attempt to step
over the limitations which they have already laid down for them-
selves. The impulse to unification and simplification is leading-
scientists to inherent contradictions, which they can not evade by
calling the problems unexplainable. Every factor which has been
given must be explainable ; that is, every such factor can have
its relations to its neighboring factors discovered and expressed,
and such an expression is explanation. Of course, all such expres-
sion must be in the language of consciousness. Consciousness is
to us the reality of all realities, and we can never get beyond what
that reality will at any time give to us. We acknowledge in this
respect our limitations, and confess our agnosticism. But within
those limitations and in expressions of that language why should
not consciousness be just as explainable as any other existing mani-
festation % If it cannot be brought under the mechanical basis of
things, then a new basis must be arranged and acknowledged,
under which it can be classed and expressed. To set it down as
unknowable and an illusion appears both unscientific and unphilo-
sophical. We do not see that it is necessary to presume an origi-
nal primitive spiritual stuff out of which it could be created. Any
such absolute dualism seems superfluous. But to confess to a mani-
fest dualism, and then in a philosophical system to make use only
of a monism, appears not only unnecessary but also fallacious.
We must either confess to materialism, accept an absolute dual-
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 283
ism, or else acknowledge to the possibility of a new creation. We
do wot mean the creation from a divine agency, but we mean the
coming into existence of a new being, a new product, which was
not contained in its causes and which has no resemblance to its
causes. The supposition is one which scientists do not like to en-
tertain. It appears too " unscientific." It does not agree with their
methods. But they must at any rate put the fact of consciousness
in unison with their general theories. But that is something which
they appear neither inclined nor able to do, and in that case they
cannot themselves be called true scientists.
CRITIQUE OF KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF PROFESSOR DR. KtTNO FISCHER, BY W. S. HOUGH.
Chapter III.
THE KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY AS DOCTRINE OF DEVELOPMENT.
I. The Kantian Ground -Problems.
The fact that we conceive a common world of sense was the
first problem; its solution constituted the theme of the Kantian
doctrine of knowledge. If this world of sense were not com-
pletely phenomenal — i. e., conceivable and conceived — that fact
would necessarily have been recognized as inexplicable. Objects
of sense are appearances or phenomena. In order to explain the
latter, three cpuestions have to be answered, which virtually involve
Kant's fundamental problems. Firstly, there must be a subject,
to which anything objective could in general appear, and without
which no sort of phenomenon would be possible. The question
is: Who (what) is the knowing subject? Secondly, there must be
an essence, which constitutes the ground of all phenomena, and of
the knowing subject itself, provided the latter does not create
wholly out of itself the things it conceives. In this case the
knowing subject would at the same time be the ground of being
of all phenomena. But since this is not the case, it must be asked:
284 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
What is that substratum which is the ground of the knowing
subject as well as of the entire phenomenal world? Thirdly,
between this substantial ground and everything resting upon it
there must subsist a relation which determines the nature of the
forms and objects of knowledge (phenomena) peculiar to us, and
which, if it lie within our comprehension, explains them. The
question is : Why the nature of our knowledge, and the nature of
things, is constituted as it is, and not otherwise? The three prob-
lems may be summarily designated by their initial words, Who \
What? Why?
The first question is solved by the " Critique of Pure Reason ' :
by its investigation of our faculties of knowledge, and by its doc-
trine, that the sense-world originates from the material elements
of our impressions and the formative elements of our perceptions
and notions. The second question Kant answered by his differ-
entiation of phenomena from things-in-themselves. What the lat-
ter are the " Critique of Practical Reason " shows by its doctrine
of freedom and the moral order of the world, and the kindred and
accordant doctrines of God and immortality. The third question
is regarded by Kant as incapable of solution, owing to the con-
stitution of the human faculties of knowledge. If the relation of
things-in-themselves and phenomena were an intelligible relation,
the first cause of things, and therefore their primal origin, the
timeless creation, would be known, and the riddle of the world
solved. But this relation remains unknowable, the inner nature
of things unsearchable,, the mystery of the world still a mystery.
Of these unsolvable problems there are three : the cosmological,
the psychological, and the theological.
If the intelligible character of the world consists in freedom,
then it isthe.will which determines the peculiar constitution of our
knowing sensuous reason, as well as the peculiar nature of phe-
nomena, and upon which they both depend. , How this is possible
is the question which comprehends in itself the secret of the world.
Kant rightly grasped and rightly stated this question, but he de-
clared an answer to it to be impossible. Schopenhauer claims
the honor of having found the only true answer, and of having
solved by his own doctrine the problem which Kant merely dis-
covered.
The psychological and theological problems are rather subor-
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 285
dinate to, than co-ordinate with, the cosmological, since they con-
tain the same problem applied in the one case to human reason,
and in the other to human character. The psychological problem
is concerned with the nature of our knowing faculties, in the con-
stitution of which sense and understanding are at once distin-
guished and united, as is indicated in Kant's question : " How is
external perception — namely, that. of space — in a thinking subject
in general possible?" If we call the thinking subject so ul, and
our outward manifestation body, the psychological problem in-
volves, in this its true conception, the old inquiry concerning the
relation or community of body and soul. The theological prob-
lem is concerned with the fact of our moral disposition, with the
relation of our intelligible to our empirical character, or with the
way in which freedom and necessity consist together and are
united in our moral conduct. To all these questions Kant held
that it was impossible for any one to find an answer ; that, in short,
they are and remain incapable of solution with the means of our
theoretical or scientific knowledge.
The fundamental inquiry has to do with the relation between
things-in-themselves and phenomena, or, what is the same thing,
the relation between freedom and nature, between the intelligible
and the sensible, the moral and the material orders of the world,
or between the causality of will and mechanical causality. The
unification of both lies in the principle of natural adaptation, and
the teleological view of the world based upon it — a view which
by no means lays claim to the validity of scientific (theoretical)
knowledge, vet claims, nevertheless, the character of a necessarv
and indispensable criterion of judgment. But the idea of imma-
nent ends in nature is so intimately connected with the idea of
natural development that the two are inseparable. That which
develops itself must develop itself to something — i. e., self-develop-
ment implies the necessary actualization of an inherent end ; and
whatever has such an inherent end, or implanted tendency, which
strives for realization, must, in the very nature of things, de-
velop itself. In the notion of natural development, therefore,
final and mechanical causality, will and mechanism, freedom and
nature, thing-in-itself and phenomenon, unite themselves. We ac-
cordingly take Kant's doctrine of development as the unifica-
tion of his doctrines of knowledge and freedom.
286 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
II. The View of the World as an Historical Development.
1. The Natural Development.
If we compare the pre-critical inquiries of our philosopher
with the " Critique of Reason " and with the views that grow out
of it, we find one fundamental thought permeating the ideas of
both periods ; it is Kant's view of the world as an historical devel-
opment — a view which was by no means denied nor prejudiced by
the "Critique of Reason," but, the rather, more firmly established
than had been possible before. Since the subject of such a view
of the world is nothing other than the natural world-changes, or
the time-succession of different states of the world — which are
connected according to the law of causality, so that the later
necessarily follow from the earlier — the development of things
coincides with their natural history, which is something entirely
different from the customary description of nature. This contents
itself with artificially classifying tilings, with grouping their exter-
nal attributes, and with describing what they are in their present
state. Natural history, on the other hand, explains how things
originated and have become what they are, what changes and
transformations they have undergone in the course of time, how
and under what conditions the present states have grown out of
the previous ones. Such a natural history of the world Kant
missed in the scientific knowledge he found at hand, and he
demanded that it be attempted as a new and bold problem, the
solution of which must be ventured. He himself led the way by
his own example, founding with his " General Natural History
and Theory of the Heavens " this new scientific account of the
world. His short geological treatises, together with his physical
geography, may be regarded as contributions to the natural his-
tory of the earth, while his two treatises on the human races are
rightly designed to be contributions to the natural history of man.
'•It is true philosophy" said Kant, "to trace the diversity and
manifoldness of a thing through all its history." 1
2. The Intellectual Development.
The " Critique of Reason " teaches how phenomena, the sense-
world, and experience originate from the conditions of our repre-
1 Kant, " Physische Geographie," Introduction, §4. Part II, Sec. I, §3.
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 287
sentative nature, how experience grows and becomes increased, and
how it systematizes itself, as in accordance with the regulative
ideas of reason it strives toward a scientific system of knowledge,
the final goal of which, were it attainable, could be nothing other
than the completely intelligible system of development of the world.
If we follow out the investigations of the "Critique of Reason"
in the development and progress of its results, and see how it
makes phenomena or objects originate from our sensations and the
form-giving capacities of our perception and thought, and expe-
rience originate from the synthesis of phenomena, and systema-
tized experience — i. e., science in the progressive development of its
various departments, or the history of the sciences — originate from
the co-ordination of experiences in accordance with the regulative
Ideas, we see that the problem and results of the " Critique " can-
not be more concisely and aptly summed up than in the designa-
tion we have chosen ; it is the doctrine of the origin and develop-
ment of human knowledge. In every development the stadium
reached, or the state which has become, is always in its comple-
tion the condition, the material, the beginning of a higher form.
This is also true of our states of knowledge. Impressions are the
material out of which phenomena are formed, phenomena the
material for experience, experiences made the material of actual
experimental knowledge. Thus the states of knowledge, the ori-
gin of which the u Critique" teaches, are the stales of development
of knowledge.
o
3. The Social Development and the Development of Culture.
The natural history of man is the condition and the material of
the history of his freedom. The natural and intellectual develop-
ment serves the moral, which does not merely, so to say, continue
the former on a higher plane, but subordinates it and makes its de-
velopment subservient to its own. The progressive development of
our natural and intellectual capacities shows itself, in this service
of freedom, as human civilisation, or, as the history of culture and
the nature of civilization, is, according to the view of Kant, such
that it is involuntarily impelled forward from the natural ends
and interests of man to the fulfilment of the law of freedom, but
that it is only completed by the Idea of freedom itself. Moral
freedom can only develop itself as historical culture and the his-
288 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
tory of culture can complete itself only when its highest goal is
striven for with the clearest knowledge and purpose. Then the
laws of freedom will not be blindly fulfilled, but fulfilled with
freedom. In order that the capacities of human nature receive
full development and attain their natural ends, the antagonism of
interests, the competition of powers, the division of labor, discord
and the struggle for existence, must enter into life; there must be
an advancement from the isolated state of life to the social, and
from barbaric freedom to social and civil freedom, where the con-
flict of interests, to be sure, continues, and, with the increase of
our wants, becomes more complex and more intense, but without
that reciprocal destructiveness and the endangering of existence
and freedom. For the full unfolding of capacities is only pos-
sible under the condition of the security of life. Security belongs
to the natural ends of life, hence social union and public law and
order must be sought and attained in the highest form possible.
That form is the constitutional government. But even the con-
stitutional state remains so long insecure, as well as the existence
of all individuals and the development of all interests of culture,
as states and peoples still exist in a condition of barbaric freedom,
warrino- with each other to their mutual destruction. Conse-
quently the natural ends of life, or the needs on the part of man
of security, demand not only a civil, but an international law, the
securest form of which is a federation of free, civilized, and consti-
tutionally governed peoples.
4. The Moral and Religious Development.
But freedom is only actualized and, as it were, embodied in a
moral state of the world, when it is striven for, not on account of
the security of life, but for freedom's own sake, and with those
means which are the factors of freedom itself: these are not the
mechanism of our inclinations, but conscious purpose, ethical
knowledge, and moral disposition. Kant, accordingly, demanded
that the necessity of a confederation of nations, with a view to
establishing lasting peace, should not be proved merely by the
interests of security and civilization, but that it should be placed
upon moral grounds, and held up to view as the moral end of the
world, and that in this spirit of world-citizenship the universal his-
torv of man should be written. In order to show that "the evo-
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 289
lution of a form of government based upon natural right"' lay in
the plan of the world's history, Kant appealed to the enthusiasm
and intense interest with which all civilized nations greeted the
attempt of the French to found a government of natural rights.
And he saw in his own epoch the rise of individualism in thought
and knowledge — "the age of enlightenment," the goal of which
could be nothing other than an intellectual and morally enlight-
ened age of the world, which should be permeated through and
through in its culture with the Idea of freedom.
But the moral development by no means goes hand in hand
with the progress of our culture and our external social civiliza-
tion. On the contrary, the more complex human society becomes,
the more it suffers internal disruption, the more it develops the
inequality of individuals in the circumstances of life, the more it
arouses and fosters motives of self-seeking, and allows contention
and hateful and evil passions, this " offspring of lawless disposi-
tions," to grow without bounds. It is because such enormous
vices as ingratitude and hatred, jealousy and malicious pleasure,
ill-will and calumny, flourish and luxuriate in the very bosom of
society, that the latter needs to be transformed and purified in its
very core, needs a complete regeneration, which not " the juridi-
cal," but only " the ethical state," hence not the State, but only
the Church, as the moral kingdom of God on earth, is capable of
bringing about. Here the sinful natures, out of which all those
evils spring that men intentionally bring upon one another, are to
be rooted out, and men's hearts purified, in order that good-will
may reign in the world. The ^establishment of such a kingdom
of God upon earth is necessary for the solution of that most im-
portant of all problems — man's salvation — and it is consequently
recognized by Kant as a duty of mankind to itself, and in this re-
spect as sui generis. The fulfilment of this duty constitutes the
special theme of the religious development, the true problem and
goal of which first found its historical expression in the appear-
ance of Christianity, and which needed in the development of the
visible church constant rectification, in order not to become fixed
in outward, lifeless forms, and lose sight of the real essence. To
true faith there belongs that veracity which is identical with sin-
cere conviction based upon moral self-knowledge. Nothing con-
tradicts religious belief more than hypocrisy, which is the offspring
XX— 19
29i » The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
and companion of compulsory faith. Hence Kant regarded the
religious Aufl'tdrung, owing to its principle of tolerance, as an
essential feature of the Aufliarung itself, and its time as a neces-
sary stage of reform in the history of the church.
The manner in which Kant apprehended the relation of reli-
gion and revelation, of the invisible and the visible church, may
serve as an excellent illustration of his doctrine of development
in general. He, like Lessing, regarded revelation as the religious
education of mankind, the visible church as the form of manifes-
tation and development of the invisible; and he laid great stress
upon the just appreciation of these historical, formative stages,
since it is quite as mistaken to consider them worthless and super-
fluous as to hold them to be the essence of religion, or its immu-
table forms. And just as the visible church is related to the in-
visible, so our natural and social history is related to freedom and
the final moral end of man, and our sense-life to our intelligible
being, and the sensible world to the moral.
III. The Teleological Viev^ of the World.
1. The World-development as Phenomenon.
We see how the Kantian philosophy presents itself in its en-
tire view of the world as doctrine of development. It regards na-
ture and freedom, culture and the state, religion and the church,
as historical developments ; and, although it has not elaborated
these subjects, but only sketched their main features and general
outline, yet it had already seized upon the problem of such a view
of the world before the " Critique of Reason," and has established
it by means of the latter.
The laws of world-development are partly laws of nature,
partly laws of freedom. The first consist in the laws of motion
of the material world, in the causality of objective and subjective
changes, in the necessary time-succession of world-states ; the sec-
ond, in the moral end of reason, from which follow those objective
and subjective laws of freedom which are to be fulfilled in the
development of culture and of the state, of religion and of the
church.
In the pre-critical period Kant's view T s of development were
confined to natural history, and especially to the mechanical origin
( 'ritiqiie of Kantian Philosophy. 2^1
and transformations of the cosmos. Nevertheless, he declared, even
at this time, that the origin of organic bodies could not be com-,
prehended after mere mechanical laws. The inquiry concern-
ing the knowableness of natural changes, or of the causal nexus of
things, lay still remote from him when, in his "General Natural
History and Theory of the Heavens," he Set forth his mechanical
cosmogony. He took the world and its laws as given, and left
unconsidered the way in which they become known to us. The
thorough investigation of this question — namely, that concerning
the causal nexus of things — necessitated him first to abandon the
way of rationalism, then also that of the old-school empiricism,
and to set out upon the entirely new path of the " Critique of Rea-
son." This brought the solution : it discovered how, in accordance
with the constitution of our reason, phenomena, and their neces-
sary synthesis— the sense-world as constituted by natural law
(nature) — originate out of the material of our impressions and the
laws of our thought (sense and understanding). We are obliged
by the nature and laws of our reason to conceive the material uni-
verse in a mechanical development, the realm of animal life in an
organic development, and mankind in a moral development. And,
since all these orders of development contain nothing that might
not be conceivable and conceived, the entire world-development
is through and through phenomenal. Its laws are laws of nature
and of freedom ; both are necessary ideas of our reason ; those
condition the sensible, these the moral experience. Hence, also,
the history of nature and freedom — i. <?., the entire world-developr
ment — has the character of idea or phenomenon. And what else
could it be, since all stages of evolution, of whatever sort they may
be, are successive, or constitute a time-succession, hence must take
place in time, which, as a pure form of thought, can itself contain
only ideas or phenomena?
2. The World-development as Teleological Phenomenon.
The notion of phenomenon, however, is necessarily apprehended
much more profoundly in the doctrine of development than in the
doctrine of knowledge. As objects of our experience or scientific
knowledge, phenomena may not be thought as referred to ends •
as forms of development, on the contrary, they cannot be con-
ceived apart from the idea of ends. Whatever evolves itself must
292 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
evolve itself into something ; it* bears its own determination within
itself, and manifests the character of self-determination and free-
dom. If we compare phenomenon as object of knowledge with
phenomenon as state of development, we see that the difference
lies in the conception of immanent teleology, which is excluded
in the former and comprehended in the latter. And, indeed, the
idea of inherent, final causes as operative in phenomena must be
applied to the entire world-development : not merely to the organic
and moral development, but also to the mechanical. In the or-
ganic development the notion of ends is a neces-ary criterion of
our judgment, since living bodies are ipso facto those which form
and organize themselves, and are consequently inconceivable with-
out the Idea of inherent ends. In the moral development the no-
tion of ends functions as the necessary principle, not only of our
judgment, but also of our conduct and the outward manifestations
of our character, since the will acts in accordance with ends, and
the moral character of its acts is both determined and judged
by the moral law. In the moral world ends have real, in the
organic ideal, validity ; in the mechanical world they are to have
no validity whatever ! According to the doctrine of Kant, there
is but one time and one space, and therefore only one sense-world,
or one universal nexus of all phenomena. If, now, some phenome-
na show themselves to be determined by ends, while others must
be teleologically judged, there certainly can be no phenomena that
are wholly without end. For the moral development of mankind
is also organic, and without its organic-sensuous character it
would not be development %X all ; and organic bodies are material
and mechanical as well. Consequently the inorganic bodies also,
although they must be explained independently of the notion of
ends, cannot vet be without end, else there would be no thorough-
going nexus of all phenomena, no unity of the sense-world, no
unity of time and of space, under which we do not understand a
closed unity in the sense of totality, but a world-unity, as opposed
to those numberless independent worlds assumed by Leibnitz, and
still accepted by Kant in his first studies — then, however, reckoned,
together with the Monadology, among " the legends from the
Utopia of Metaphysics."
Our view of the world advances from the lifeless realm to the
living, and from t he living to the moral. That is. it sees how the
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 293
organic world evolves from the inorganic, how humanity and the
moral world evolve from the organic world, how it would be dis-
astrous absolutely to deny in the first stadium of world-develop-
ment the validity of ends, and how in the second the necessary
application of the notion of ends must be acknowledged, and,
flually, in the third the reality of ends disclosed. But this is not
the sense of the Kantian doctrine. It denies not the validity of
ends, but their theoretical or scientific knowableness in both the
inorganic and organic worlds. It affirms their knowableness in
the moral world, because here the activity of ends is immediately
apparent from the will itself. Matter renders ends unknowable;
the will, on the contrary, knowable. Ends are immanent causes,
but matter is spatial, and, like space, completely external ; every-
thing in space exists as externality, and consists in outward rela-
tions; hence it contains no sort of knoviable immanent causes.
This is true of phenomena in general ; hence of all bodies, even the
organic, which oblige us to consider them as controlled by ends,
simply because they form, produce, and reproduce themselves, i. e.,
because they develop themselves.
The unity of the world is also the unity of the world-develop-
ment. • Consequently the end that reveals itself in the moral order
of things and gives them their intelligible meaning must also be
recognized as the principle that underlies the natural order of
things, but presents itself as knowable in no natural phenomena.
That end is freedom. Accordingly, we must consider the entire
world-development as the manifestation of freedom, and the sen-
sible order of the world as the manifestation of the moral. We
thus rise to a point of view where the inner nature of things, which
ever remains hidden from our knowledge in its exact sense, be-
comes unveiled, and where the mystery of the world is solved.
3. The World-development as Manifestation of Thing-in-itself.
Thus in the Kantian doctrine of development the two other fun-
damental disciplines of the critical philosophy — the doctrines of
knowledge and freedom, or, what is the same thing, the notions
of nature and freedom — unite themselves. The " Critique of Rea-
son " culminates in the teleological point of view, and attains, by
carrying this out, a systematic view of the world. The conse-
quences we have drawn stand directly in the line of the Kantian
2 ( Jf The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
doctrine, and they are embodied in expressions which in no way
ascribe to Kant or force upon him views that he has not himself
expressed or sanctioned in his doctrine. He taught both the unity
of the world and the development of things, both the ideal valid-
ity of design in the organic realm and its real validity in the moral
realm, both freedom as the moral end of the world and the intelli-
gible character of freedom, and that intelligible character is iden-
tical with thing-in-itself. Adaptation, of whatever sort it may be,
consists in the correspondence of a thing w T ith an end or purpose.
This presupposes activity toward an end, hence an end-active
power and an end-positing faculty — i. e., will and freedom. Such
a correspondence is either given in the thing itself and exists in
actuality, or it appears to our reason that it must be present. In
the one case it is factual and real, in the other it is only a neces-
sary idea, and therefore merely ideal. Moral ends are of the
first sort, organic or natural of the second. Since, now, without
end or purpose — I. e., without will or freedom — adaptation in gen-
eral can neither exist nor be conceived, and all development must
be considered as teleological, the latter must be recognized as the
manifestation of freedom or of thing-in-itself. In other words,
while the world-develooment consists in the natural and moral
L
orders of things, the second is not merely the highest stage of
development of the first, but also its ground ; the sensible world is
not merely the temporal presupposition of the moral, but also its
phenomenon. In short, the entire world-development or world-
order is the manifestation of freedom.
That such is in truth the fact of the matter Kant declared in
his doctrine of the primacy of practical reason, and confirmed it
in the " Critique of Judgment." He explained that that super-
sensible substratum of our knowing reason and of all phenomena,
"that supersensible upon which we must base nature as phenome-
non," is identical with freedom. The literal statement is as fol-
lows : " There must, however, be a ground of the unity of the su-
persensible, which underlies nature, with that which the notion of
freedom practically contains, and even if the notion of this ground
attains neither to a theoretical nor a practical knowledge of the
same, and hence possesses no particular sphere, yet it makes possi-
ble the transition from the mode of thought according to the
principles of the one, to that according to the principles of the
Critique of Kantian, Philosophy. 295
other." 1 " What the notion of freedom practically contains" is,
according to Kant, nothing other than final moral end. What is
coincident or one with this can only he the moral end itself, for this
is only one with itself. When, consequently, "the unity of the
supersensible which underlies nature with what the notion of free-
dom practically contains " is spoken of, that supersensible substra-
tum can be nothing other than the final moral end itself. And
when Kant says " there must be a ground of that unity," only the
ground of the final moral end can be understood by it ; but this is
simply and solely will or freedom. That "supersensible which
underlies nature " is, therefore, will or freedom. There is, accord-
ing to the letter as well as the spirit of Kant's doctrine, no other
issue. Now, of freedom as the final moral end we have no theo-
retical, but indeed a practical, knowledge. But of freedom as the
supersensible substratum of all phenomena we have neither a
theoretical nor a practical knowledge — i. e., we can form no sort of
an idea of the " ground of the unity of the supersensible which un-
derlies nature, with what the notion of freedom practically con-
tains." Hence, Kant says there must be such a ground, the nature
of which permits us to unite the principles of nature with those
of freedom, although we can acquire neither a theoretical nor a
practical knowledge of this ground. The unification of nature
and freedom consists in the notion of natural freedom or adapta-
tion ; and all organic phenomena must be considered and esti-
mated in accordance with this principle as criterion. Of natural
necessity or the mechanism of things we have a theoretical knowl-
edge, of moral freedom a practical knowledge, of natural freedom
no knowledge at all ; that is, will or freedom in nature is unknow-
able ; natural ends or final causes must necessarily be conceived,
but they can never .be known.
All the phenomena of nature are exertions of force ; natural
freedom consists in the freedom of power or of ability ; it is the
freedom of phenomenon, or the phenomenon in its freedom. 3
Within the natural world this freedom displays itself in self-devel-'
1 Kant : " Kritik der Urtheilskraft," Introduction, II. ( Vide " Werke," vol. vii, p. 14. )
Id. : " Dialectik der teleologischen Urtheilskraft," § 78, p. 231. Cf. Fischer : " Gesch. d.
n. Philos.," vol. iv, pp. 397 and 497.
2 " Die natiirliche Freiheit besteht in der Freiheit der Kraft oder des Konnens, sie ist
die Freiheit der Erscheinung oder die Erscheinung in ihrer Freiheit."
296 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
oping bodies — i. <?., in such bodies as bring forth, shape and repro-
duce themselves; these are the living phenomena of nature, which
we are accordingly obliged to conceive and consider after the prin-
ciple of objective immanent teleology. The necessity of regarding
organic nature in this way was the subject which Kant worked out
in his "Critique of Teleological Judgment."
There is also the free contemplation of things where freedom
is not our object or problem, but our state — that harmonious con-
dition of our powers of mind which does not seek to investigate
and analyze phenomena, but leaves them in their freedom, appre-
hending them with pure contemplative pleasure. To this our
perfectly free attitude of mind, dependent upon or restrained by
no interests, there corresponds the free phenomenon — i. <?., the
phenomenon in its complete freedom. It is the object of our pure
pleasure ; we pronounce it beautiful or sublime. Upon the prin-
ciple of such a subjective fitness of phenomena is founded our fac-
ulty of aesthetic judgment, which furnished Kant with the theme
of his " Critique of the ^Esthetic Judgment." His investigation
confined itself to the analysis of our aesthetic judgment, or of our
thought in the state of freedom. This needed to be supplemented
by a discussion of the correlate of our aesthetic contemplation,
namely, the phenomenon in the state of its freedom, or by the at-
tempt to establish also the objectivity of aesthetic fitness. This
supplementary step was taken by Schiller, who, more than any
other down to Schopenhauer, furthered and extended the Kantian
aesthetics without abandoning the principles of the critical phi-
losophy. If freedom is the highest law of reason, and as such it
determine the character of our knowledge, the laws of which (the
laws of the understanding) condition the sense-world, then we must
necessarily conceive freedom in phenomena also; and phenome-
non in its freedom is beauty. Schiller could not have indicated
his Kantian standpoint, and at the same time his advance within
it, more aptly and more forcibly than he has done in a word in
one of those letters to Korner, which give his chief aesthetic ideas
in all their freshness. Even these few words show what a pro-
found understanding of the critical philosophy he possessed
" Certainly no greater word has yet been spoken by mortal man
than the Kantian 'Determine thyself out of thyself ' (which is at
once the content of his whole philosophy), and this other, of the
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 297
theoretical philosophy, ' Nature stands under the laws of the
understanding.' This great Idea of self-determination is mirrored
back- to us from certain phenomena of nature, and this we call
beauty." '
We shall not now ask whether the Kantian doctrines of knowl-
edge and development conflict with one another or not. In the
first, things-in-themselves are absolutely unknowable and abso-
lutely distinguished from phenomena; in the second, on the con-
trary, the phenomenon of freedom shows itself. With end, will
enters the phenomenal world ; with will, freedom, intelligible char-
acter, or thing-in-itself, and the farther the evolution of things
advances, the more distinctly it manifests itself. The world-de-
velopment is recognized by Kant as the manifestation and ever-
increasing revelation of freedom. What in the mechanical world
is not at all manifest or completely veiled forces itself already in
the organic realm so far to the light that we are not able even
perfectly to experience the phenomena of life without the idea of
life's inner adaptation to an end, while in the moral sphere it is
completely manifest and present. In the organic evolution of the
world we take ends into account ; in the moral, it is the thing
itself.
Yet between the two doctrines, as they shaped themselves in
the mind of Kant, there is, in the first place, no contradiction,
but a deep underlying harmony. Against the charge that, while
the doctrine of knowledge holds things-in-themselves to be for-
ever absolutely hidden, the doctrine of development regards them
as increasingly intelligible and knowable, Kant is protected from
the outset by his distinction of the sorts of knowledge. To such
a stricture he would reply : Things-in-themselves are only so
far intelligible as they are practically knowable ; theoretically
knowable they are never. Every phenomenon is, as object of
knowledge, a link in the nexus of things ; each has in our idea ot
the world its fixed time and place; none is thinkable without the
thing-in-itself which underlies them all ; in none is this thing-
in-itself knowable, it nowhere appears — i. e., it never so ap-
1 Schiller's "Briefwechsel mit Korner," 2d ed., edited by Carl Goedeke, 1878. Let-
ter of the 18th of February, 1793, pp. 18-19. The letters referred to aboce are the fol-
lowing five, written in Jena, that of January 25th, and those of the 8th, 18th, 23d, and
28th of February, 1793. Vide pp. 0-51.
298 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
pears that we could come across it in our knowledge and say,
" There it is ! " In order to know a phenomenon we must analyze
and dissect it, resolve it into its knowable factors, and then from
these construct our knowledge of it. Among such factors the
th ing-in -itself, the creative or originative ground of being of all
phenomena, is not to be found. This does not appear, because it
is the cause of appearance; nor does it show itself, either, in the
evolution of things, since it does not exhaust itself in any one form
or stage of development, nor consist in any transition. It can re-
mit itself, but not appear. It becomes manifest, yet ever remains
hidden, like disposition in conduct, the genius of the artist in his
work, the will to live or the inherent end of life in the organism,
force in its exertion, God in the world. For something to appear
means, in the exact sense of the word, that it is contained in an
object in such a way that in the analysis of the object it will be
hit upon and found. Now, even the most searching analysis of
any phenomenon is not able to discover the ground why and to
what end it is — i. e., to discover its innermost being. To be sure,
one need not necessarily trouble himself with this question, and,
indeed, in experimental knowledge and the so-called exact sci-
ences, he is authorized to pay no heed to it whatever. One may
also, if he choose, banish it completely from thought, as an idle
question But this the profound thinkers among philosophers,
those upon whom the mystery of the world rests as a burden, can
never do. Thus the Kantian distinction of things-in-themselves
from phenomena, as well as its doctrine of the unknowableness of
the former in the way of the scientific analysis of the latter, retains
its deep and abiding meaning.
The question concerning the thing-in-itself as the ground of
being of all phenomena carries us back to the original ground of
things. This, according to Kant, becomes intelligible to us from
no phenomenon, of whatever sort it may be, but solely from the
final end of the world — i. e., from the end which our reason, by
means of its freedom from the world we conceive (sense-world),
posits for itself, and realizes through the purification of the will.
In this sense man may be recognized as the final end of the
world. " Thus it is only the appetitive faculty, but not that
which makes man dependent (through sensuous impulses) upon
nature; not that in respect to which the worth of his existence de-
Critique of Kantian Philosophy. 299
pends upon what he receives and enjoys, but the worth which he
can give to himself and which consists in what lie does, how and
according to what principles he acts; not as a part of nature, but
in the freedom of his appetitive faculties — that is, a good will is
that whereby alone his existence can have an absolute worth, and
in relation to which the existence of the world can have a final
end." 1 Our philosopher judges like our poet : " Enjoyment de-
bases"; "The deed is everything, nothing the fame." With
this confession Goethe's " Faust " rises to the point of its highest
morality.
If the end of our existence were mere happiness, or that enjoy-
ment of the world which consists in continual amusement, if we
came into the world only in order, like the man in the farce, to
make a "joke" of ourselves, and to seek unmixed pleasure, it
would seem that modern pessimism, inspired as it is by the pleas-
ure-seeking of our day, is right in declaring that this object of
life has proved a failure, and that it is the opposite goal that has
been reached, inasmuch as the sum of pleasure is in reality far less
than the sum of pain, and ennui far more prevalent than amuse-
ment. Then the result of life, as that of the buffoonery, would be
truly a most sad "joke." Nothing is more foolish and wanting
in all genuine knowledge of man than this sort of a debit-and-credit
account of pleasure and pain, of joy and sorrow, as if they could
be added and subtracted like money, and the sum of life figured
out by this childish example. The pessimism and optimism of
the ordinary sort stand upon precisely the same plane ; both
are eude?no?iistie, and hold happiness to be the only desirable
good. The pessimists, on the one hand, find the world so ill-con-
ditioned that we can never attain and enjoy this good, but only
and ever chase after it with unsatisfied craving, so that we are
thus condemned to a continual Tantalus-torment, to the most
intense misery conceivable. The optimists, on the other hand,
find the world and the human mind so beneficently planned that,
with the right knowledge and a corresponding regulation of
conduct, we are able to bring about the perfectly- happy state of
life.
1 Kant: " Kritik der Urtheilskraft," § 86. (Vide "Werke," vol. vii, p. 326.)
2 " Geniessen macht gemeia." "Die That ist alles, nichts der Ruhm ! " "Faust,"
Part II, Act IV, § 1.
300 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
As people are busying themselves a good deal nowadays with
Kant, there is naturally considerable dispute, this way and that,
as to whether his teachings are to be taken in the sense of a pessi-
mistic or an optimistic view of life. But the simple fact that such
a question is debated, as answerable by yes or no, shows suf-
ficiently well how little Kant is understood. His doctrine is
neither the one nor the other, since it does not judge of the object
of life eudemonistically at all. Were this object the happiness
which we necessarily craved, according to the sensuous impulses
of our nature, such a state of well-being, even if it could be fully
attained, would leave our moral nature empty and unsatisfied,
since we should thereby utterly fail of the truly human or per-
sonal end of life, which cannot be given to us, but only posited—
i. e., willed by ourselves. The end of human existence in the
world consists in man's moral self-development, which compre-
hends culture as well and all its wide interests, and which in its
very nature is an unceasing and endless progress. Every solved
problem presents new problems for solution. Here there is no
idle bliss, which we are to enjoy with folded hands, no moment of
complete contentment ; yet all contentment worthy of man is only
to be found in the way of this free self-development. Indeed, it
is not to be found, but won : " Only he earns freedom as well as
life who daily has to win it ! " Contentment lies in no one mo-
ment, but in the entire fulness of life, in both the joys and sor-
rows of creating. He who traverses this path is free from the
attacks of the monster Care, who robs man of life's every gratify-
ing enjoyment ; moral energy alone she cannot stay : that she
merely intensifies. Of the end and worth of human life Kant
judged at the close of his teleological view of the world, as Goethe
at the end of " Faust." It needed no magic to free man from
care and the world's spirits of torment :
" Im Weitersckreiten find' er Qual und Gliick,
Er, unbefriedigt jeden Augenblick ! " !
The goal of our moral self-development is freedom from the
world. If "man under moral laws" is recognized as the final
1 " In marching onward, bliss and torment find,
Though, every moment, with unsated mind!"
(Taylor's translation.)
" Faust," Part II, Act V, Scene 5.
HegePs Philosophy of Religion. 301
end of the world, then these laws must be recognized us world-
laws, and the moral order of the world as the order of all things;
then there must be also a moral author of the world, or an origi-
nal ground of all things, who can be no other being than the
world-creating will or God. Thus Kant's teleological view of the
world culminates in the moral theology which furnishes the basis
for the only valid demonstration of the existence of God, whose
realty Kant never doubted, whose theoretical demonstrability he
denied and disproved in his doctrine of knowledge, whose exist-
ence he affirmed with complete certitude in his doctrine of free-
dom and faith. Without will as the original ground of the
world, there is in the latter neither freedom, nor final end, nor
development.
HEGEL'S PHILOSOPHY OF KELIGIOK
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY P. LOUIS SOLDAN.
B. Preliminary Questions.
Before proceeding to the discourse on our subject proper, it
seems indispensable to settle some preliminary questions, or rather
to institute an inquiry into them, with the understanding that it
shall depend upon the results of it whether any such discourse,
[that is to say] any rational cognition of religion, be possible. An
inquiry into these questions and an answer to them seem indispen-
sably necessary, since they have pre-eminently occupied the philo-
sophical and popular interest of contemporaneous thought, and
because they concern the fundamental principles of the present
public sentiment regarding religious doctrines and their cognition.
If we should omit such inquiry, it would at least be necessary to
show that this omission is not accidental, and that it has its justi-
fication in the fact that the essential part of such inquiry is not a
preliminary question, but belongs to our science itself, within
'which all these questions shall find their solution.
Hence we shall here consider those obstacles only with which
the learning and the sentiment of our times has opposed the right
of trying to comprehend religion through reason.
302 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
1. Not religion in general forms the subject of our inquiry, but
positive religion, which is acknowledged to have been given by
God and to rest upon higher authority than man's, and of which
it is asserted that it must, consequently, lie beyond the pale of
human reason and appear exalted above its reach. In this respect,
the first obstacle placed in our way is, that we arc called upon to
prove that reason possesses the right and the capability of judg-
ing the truths and doctrines of a religion of which it is asserted
that it withdraws itself from the reach of human reason. It is an
impossibility, however, for conceptive cognition to avoid all rela-
tionship with positive religion. Some people have, indeed, said,
and continue to say, that positive religion is a matter for itself,
whose doctrines are simply to be received, respected, and esteemed ;
that reason and conceptive cognition stand on an entirely different
level and must not come into contact with religion ; that reason
should not concern itself with the doctrines of faith. This was in
former times the customary way in which the freedom of- philo-
sophical inquiry was guarded. It was asserted that the latter is
a matter by itself, which must never be allowed to encroach upon
theology, and that, if need be, its results must be subordinated to
the doctrines of positive religion. We are unable to accept such
a position for our inquiry. It is false that faith and free philo-
sophical thought can rest side by side in an attitude of passivity
and indifference. It is not true that faith in the content of posi-
tive religion can survive when reason has arrived at the convic-
tion of the contrary. It is therefore consistent and correct that
the church has not allowed the view to gain ground which holds
that reason is opposed to faith and yet must submit to it. The
human mind is not so divided in its innermost core as to allow
two things to exist within it which contradict each other. When-
ever a discord between thinking and religion arises, it must be
removed by cognition or it will surely lead to despair and drive
out reconciliation. Despair is but the consequence of one-sided
reconciliation ; for, when one phase of the question is rejected
while the other is embraced, no true peace can be gained. [This
one-sided rejection may assume one of two forms.] One is that the*
mind, divided in itself, discards the claims of thinking and tries to
return to naive religious feeling. But in this the spirit does vio-
lence to itself, for consciousness will demand satisfaction and re-
Hegel's Philosophy of Religion. 303
fuse to be violently set aside. The healthy mind is incapable of
renouncing independent thinking. Religious feeling is transformed
into longing; it becomes hypocrisy and cannot free itself from the
phase of dissatisfaction. The other [form of] one-sidedness is that
of indifference toward religion; it either takes the latter for
granted as a settled question, or it opposes it. Such is the con-
sistency of shallow minds!
This, then, is the first preliminary question ; we are to show
by what right reason is entitled to occupy itself with these doc-
trines of religion.
2. The standpoint which we have just reviewed asserts that
reason cannot truly know the nature of God; the possibility of
cognizing other truths is admitted, but it is denied that the highest
truth is knowable. There are those who even deny that reason can
cognize any truth whatever. It is asserted that whenever cogni-
tion undertakes to concern itself with spirit in and for itself, with
life, with the infinite, it brings forth nought but error, and that on
this account reason should forever abandon the claim of being
able to arrive at any positive conception of the infinite; thinking
will ever annul the infinite and lower it to the finite. Although
the inference from this objection in regard to reason would be the
renunciation of reason, such inference is nevertheless said to flow
from rational cognition itself. Accordingly it would be necessary
to inquire into human reason itself in order to see whether it pos-
sesses the ability of knowing God, and, consequently, contains the
possibility of a philosophy of religion.
3. Herewith is connected the [erroneous] claim that our knowl-
edge of God is not a matter of comprehension and reason, but that
the consciousness of His existence and presence wells up from our
emotional nature, and that consequently man's relation to God lies
entirely within the province of feeling and must not be translated
into thinking. If [the idea of] God were excluded from the grasp of
intelligent cognition, and from necessary, substantial subjectivity,
nothing indeed would be left except to assign [the idea of] God to
the realm of accidental subjectivity or to feeling. Where such
views are held, one can only wonder that there is any objectivity
at all ascribed to God. In this respect the materialistic views (or
by whatever name they are called — empirical, historical, natural-
istic, etc.) are much more consistent, because, if they consider spirit
304 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
and thinking as functions of matter, and reduce them to sensations,
they take God also for a product of the feelings and deny object-
ive existence to Him. The result, of course, is atheism. Mate-
rialism makes God the product of weakness or fear, of pleasure
or selfish hope, of avarice and tyranny. Whatever has for its sole
basis my feelings, exists for myself alone; it belongs to my notions
and is not self-existent; it is not independent in and for itself.
These considerations prove the necessity of showing that [the idea
of] God has for its basis not simply our feelings, and that He is
not simply my God. It becomes evidently the task of philosophy
of religion to supply proof for the existence of God.
It might appear as if the other sciences had the advantage of
philosophy, since [the reality of] their subject-matter or content
is acknowledged beforehand and they are relieved of the necessity
of proving its existence. In arithmetic the existence of number
is taken for granted, in geometry that of space, in medicine that
of the human body ; they are not required to prove the existence
of space, body, sickness, and the like. Philosophy seems to be at a
disadvantage, for before it begins its inquiries it is to be compelled
to secure for its subjects the claim of existence. While it is per-
haps indulged in asserting the existence of this world, exception
is taken at once when it proceeds to presuppose the reality of the
immaterial, of thought, of spirit free from matter, or, indeed, of
God. The subject-matter of philosophy differs in kind from that
of the sciences above mentioned, and shall certainly not be
allowed, like theirs, to remain a mere supposition. Philosophy,
and more especially philosophy of religion, shall prove its own
subject. Before it exists it is required to prove that it does exist.
It is required to prove its existence prior to its existence.
These, then, are the preliminary questions to which, it seems, an
immediate answer is required by which the possibility of a philoso-
phy of religion is to be established. If such views are valid, the
philosophy of religion becomes impossible, because, in order to
explain its possibility, those obstacles would have to be removed.
This is the first aspect. But we waive these questions for the pres-
ent. Our main reason for doing; this may be mentioned in brief,
and the explanation may perhaps remove the difficulty.
The first demand which is made is, that there should be, in the
first place, an examination into reason, into the faculty of cogni-
Hegel's Philosophy of Religion. 305
tion, before that faculty should be allowed to begin the work of
cognition. This seems to imply an idea as if cognition used some
instrument to take hold of truth. The demand that this instru-
ment be examined in the first place is, closely considered, a crude
one. The critique of the faculty of cognition is the standpoint of
Kantian philosophy, and that of the age and its theology in gen-
eral. It was supposed that a great discovery had been made by
this idea, bnt in this people made a mistake, as will often happen
in this world. It is observed frequently that people are never more
foolish than when they have what they consider a remarkably
bright idea; they will derive satisfaction from the fact that they
have found an excellent turn for their folly and ignorance. They
are always inexhaustible in devices when there is an opportunity
of blinding their conscience in regard to their indolence, and of
escaping from the consideration of such questions.
Reason, then, is to be examined; but how? It is to be exam-
ined rationally, it is to be cognized. This, however, is possible
through rational thinking alone, and in no other way. The de-
mand thus cancels itself. If we are not to be allowed to begin
with philosophy without having rationally cognized reason itself,
we can never begin. For we cannot cognize except by thinking
through reason ; but this we are enjoined from doing ; w r e are told
to cognize reason before doing anything else. It is the same propo-
sition which the gentleman from Gascogny made who did not
wish to go into the water before he had learned to swim. It is
impossible to examine into the activity of reason without using
reason.
Here, in the philosophy of religion, God, or (since God is es-
sentially rational) Reason, is the subject. God is rationality, which,
as spirit, subsists in and for itself. In discussing reason philo-
sophically, we do examine into cognition, but not in such a man-
ner as if we thought that this question could be treated as a pre-
liminary one, and could precede the subject. No, the cognition of
reason forms our subject itself. Spirit exists for spirit alone. This
proposition implies the existence of the finite spirit; within the
philosophy of religion the relation of the finite spirit, or of finite
reason to divine reason, unfolds itself. The discussion of this rela-
tion belongs to our philosophy, and will find therein its place when
the first rise of this relation will be discussed. Herein lies the
XX— 20
306 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
difference between a science and a collection of aphorisms about
a science ; the latter are accidental and contingent. If they are
thoughts germane to the subject, they ought to have been embodied
in the inquiry itself, and then they are no longer accidental bub-
bles of wit.
Spirit, in positing itself as an object, assumes essentially the
form of phenomenality, or of something which reaches the finite
spirit from above. This process implies the mode in which spirit
arrives at a positive religion. The spirit assumes existence for
itself in the form of image-representation, or, in other words, in
the shape of alienation and phenomenality ; and for this alien be-
ing, for this other, in and for whose conception spirit exists, the
positive content of religion is brought about. There is also con-
tained in religion the category of reason, and consequently religion
is also cognition and active comprehension and thinking. The
standpoint of cognition, then, is included within religion as well
as that of feeling. Feeling is subjective; it is that which is my
own individually, and for which I defer to no other authority.
In the form of feeling, God exists in the utmost isolation of par-
ticular individuality, and consequently the standpoint of feeling,
too, is a necessary phase in the development of the idea of religion,
since spiritual relation or spirit exists in the feeling. The propo-
sition also that God is belongs to this discourse on religion.
In short, religion is the last and highest sphere of human con-
sciousness, whether the latter be sentiment, will, representation,
knowledge, or cognition. Religion is the absolute result ; it is the
region which man enters as that of absolute truth.
Since this is the character of religion, it is plain that, in order to
step into this sphere, consciousness must have risen above the finite
in general, above finite existence, conditions, aims, interests, and
above finite thoughts and every kind of finite relation. In order
to be within religion, all these finite things must have been dis-
posed of.
Although, even for common consciousness, religion is the eleva-
tion above the finite, this fundamental principle is disregarded by
the opponents of philosophy, and, more particularly, by the oppo-
nents of the philosophy of religion, or God. For in their argu-
ment they make use of finite thought, of the relations of limita-
tions, and of the categories of finitude.
JlegeVs Philosophy of Religion. 307
We shall pass this over with a few words. One of these finite
forms is, for instance, the immediateness of knowledge, the fact
of consciousness. To this class of categories belong also the con-
trasts of the finite and the infinite, of subject and object. Such
contrasts, however, as the finite or the infinite, subject or object,
are abstract forms which are quite out of place in snch an abso-
lutely rich and concrete content as is found in religion. It is the
spirit and the heart which are concerned in religion, and the cate-
gories and principles which they contain differ entirely from those
of finitude and the like. But, notwithstanding this, determina-
tions like the latter are brought forward as if they could possibly
form the basis for the principal truths of religion. These [finite]
determinations and categories are indeed necessary, since they are
the passing phases of the essential relation which underlies religion ;
and this renders it all the more important that their nature should
already have been examined and cognized ; this logical demon-
stration must lie behind us when we proceed to treat of religion in
a scientific manner. Such categories must have been disposed of
and rejected previously. But, instead of this being the case, it is
common to make them the basis for opposition to comprehension,
to the idea or to rational cognition. This opposition uses those
categories, without critical judgment, in the mostndive way, ignor-
ing the existence even of Kant's " Critique of Pure Reason,"
which had at least the merit of assailing these forms, and of arriv-
ing in its way at the result that these categories could be used in the
cognition of phenomena only. In religion, however, we are not
concerned in mere external aspects or phenomena, but in the ab-
solute content. The supporters of such an argument seem to take
cognizance of the existence of Kant's philosophy only for the pur-
pose of making a more unscrupulous use of those categories. It is
improper, and even silly, to bring forward against philosophy cate-
gories like that of Immediateness, or the fact of consciousness, and
to inform it that there is a difference between the finite and the
infinite, between subject and object, as if any human being, any
philosopher, could be ignorant of it, and would have to be told
such a triviality. But there are, nevertheless, those who have the
assurance to bring forward such wisdom with an air of triumph,
as if they had made a new discovery.
Whatever may be the basis for such sapient and overwise talk,
308 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
we will say briefly that such categories as the finite and infinite,
subject and object, are indeed different, but that they are at the
same time inseparable also. Of this, natural philosophy gives an
illustration in the south and north pole. It is said also that those
categories are as different as heaven from earth. Quite right;
they are absolutely distinct. But they are at the same time insepa-
rable, as the illustration implies ; there is no earth without a heaven,
and vice versa.
It is an irksome task to argue with those who contend against
the philosophy of religion and think of achieving an easy triumph ;
for, while they say that immediateness is different from mediation,
they show great ignorance and total unfamiliarity with the forms,
and categories which they use in their attacks and through which
they judge of philosophy. They tell us in the most naive way
how these categories occur in the mind, without having reflected
on these subjects and without having inquired into external nature
and into the inner experience of their consciousness or mind. Re-
ality is not present to them, but foreign and unknown. Their
talk, which is pointed against philosophy, is the talk of the schools,
which clings to void and empty categories ; philosophy, however,
does not belong to the world of the so-called school, but to the world
of reality. In the w r ealth of the categories of the latter, philosophy
does not find a yoke and a burden which it has to carry, but it
feels that it allows scope and room for the freest movement. Those
who assail and malign philosophy become incapable, by their finite
mode of thinking, of grasping a philosophical proposition, and, even
when they repeat its words, they misunderstand it, for, since they
carry their finite categories into it, they cannot grasp its infinity.
Philosophy is untiring and spares no pains in investigating care-
fully the merits of its opponent. It believes that this is necessary,
and simply satisfies the immanent impulse of its idea in attempt-
ing to know both itself and its opponent (verum index sui et falsi) ;
and it might well expect equal fairness on the part of its oppo-
nent, and that he should forget his hostility in studying in turn
the essence of that which he opposes. But such is not the out-
come. The magnanimity of philosophy in recognizing its oppo-
nent, and in heaping coals of fire upon his head, is of no avail ;
the opponent does not submit to it, and declines mediation. And
even when before our inquiry this opposition should dissolve itself
HegeVs Philosophy of Religion. 309
into a mist, a spectre, the sole purpose of our inquiry remains to
satisfy the claims of comprehending thought, and not simply to
show to our opponent that we have been right. It is impossible
to influence him personally and to convince him, because he will
ever insist upon remaining within his narrow categories. A
thoughtful mind should have passed beyond all those forms of
reflection, and should have learned their nature and the true rela-
tion which exists in them — namely, the infinite relation, wherein
their finitude is cancelled. The insight will then be gained that
both the immediate and the mediated knowledge are entirely
one-sided. The truth is found iu their union ; in it there is imme-
diate knowledge which is at the same time mediated, mediate
knowledge which is at the same time simple, immediate relation
to itself. By the cancellation of one-sidedness through such union
it becomes a relation of infinity. This is a union in which the
difference of those categories is cancelled, but at the same time
ideally preserved in the higher category, and is made to serve as
the impulse of all animation, as the propelling force, motor, and
main-spring of the spiritual as well as of physical life.
Since we shall begin in the following discourse with religion,
which is the highest and last subject, we must be allowed to presup-
pose here that those vain and empty relations are for us a stand-
point of the past. Since we omit these preliminary discussions
which have been demanded from us as the basis of the science, it
follows that in our discourse on religion proper we should pay
some attention to the modes and categories of thinking that are
employed in it.
Having thus referred the discussion of these preliminary ques-
tions to the following discourse itself, we proceed now to a general
survey and division of our subject.
310 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
GOESCHEL 1 ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF CARL FRIEDRICH GOESCHEL, BY SUSAN E. BLOW.
(Concluded.)
Chapter IV.
The Essential Moments of the Spirit.
Before concluding our discussion of the subject of immortality
we should fix our eyes more directly upon the essential moments
1 The work of Goeschel completed in this number of the Journal may be considered
as the best exposition of the right wing of the Hegelian school — a school that held
speculative philosophy to be the same in content with evangelical Christianity, though
very different in form.
For convenience, we give here the references to the numbers in which the portions of
the translation already published, may be found: Vol. xi, pp. 65, 177, 372; vol. xvii,
pp. 154, 246; vol. xviii, p. 21 ; vol. xix, pp. 172, 299; vol. xx. pp. 88, 314.
According to Ludwig Noack (" Philosophic Geschichtliches Lexikon "), Karl Fried-
rich Goeschel was born in 1784 at Langensalza, in Thiiringen ; educated at the gymna-
sium at Gotha ; studied jurisprudence at Leipzig, 1803 to 1807; became attorney-at law
in Langensalza in 1807; became Oberlandesgerichtsrath at Naumburg in 1817; assist-
ant minister of justice at Berlin in 1834 ; a member of the Obercensur collegiums in
1839; counsellor of state and president of the Consistorium for the Saxon province in
Magdeburg in 1845 ; on account of his stiff adherence to old Lutheran doctrines, he was
placed on the retired list in 1848; returned to Berlin in 1849; to Naumburg again in
1861 ; died there in 1862.
The following excerpts will furnish matter of interest to those who wish to know
more of his life, and of the estimate that Hegel and some of his disciples placed on his
work :
From Erdmanrfs " Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophic" {Berlin, 1866.)
Page 615, vol. ii. — " Karl Friedrich Goeschel, who had already proved his acquaint-
ance with Hegel's writings in an anonymous treatise which was very highly prized by
Daub, published in 1829 a book entitled " Aphorismen fiber Nichtwissen und Absolutes
Wisser," a work to which he attached his initials only. Hegel greeted this work with a
'thankful pressure of the hand' ('dankbaren Hiindedruck '), and excerpted some sen-
tences from it verbally to use in his encyclopaedia as his own. Goeschel applied next
the principles of this philosophy to questions of jurisprudence, as appears in his
'Zerstreuten Blattern ' (3 vols., 1832-1842)."
Page 62^. — " To the defence of Hegel against the writings of Weisse stood up the
man whom the mentioned ' hand-pressure ' of the master had so ennobled in the eyes of
the school of Hegel that they greeted his book with joy after looking for it with breath-
less interest. Goeschel's 'Monismus des Gedankens' (Naumburg, 1832), which claimed
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 311
of the spirit considered as essential relationships. It is indispen-
sable that these essential relationships be both distinguished and
to be ' an apology of the existing philosophy at the grave of its founder,' sought to prove
to Weisse that he had fallen into dualism, which is the arch enemy of all philosophy.
For his separation of the formal from the real sciences separates form and content —
that is to say, thinking and being — while the recent philosophy had held fast to the
unity of these, and had claimed for our thinking the place of a rethinking of the creat-
ive thought. Since Hegel's method is the self-forming of the content, it has refuted
both materialism and formalism, each of which falls into dualism."
Page 652. — " The question of immortality was treated in detail by Goeschel in his
work entitled 'Von den Beweissen fur die Unsterblichkeit,' u. s. w. (Berlin, 1835), in
which he characterized three chief proofs parallel with the three proofs of the existence
of God. These three proofs correspond also to the three stages : individual, subject,
and spirit (institutional life of man). The fact that many have attacked only the out-
work of this book, the eloquent Easter sermon which Goschel inserted as his preface,
and the appendix in which he printed extracts from Hegel's works, and among them
one passage which had been wrongly inserted in Hegel's works by his editor, does not
speak well for the thorough study of a treatise in every way remarkable. Goschel
seemed particularly well pleased with his preface, for he followed it with another book
as commentary — 'Die Siebenfaeltige Osterfrage' (Berlin, 1837)."
Page 656. — "Against Strauss's 'Life of Jesus' Goschel wrote an essay entitled
' First and Last : A Confession of Faith on the part of Speculative Philosophy,' which
contained the chief thoughts that were expanded in his ' Contributions to Speculative
Theology ' (Berlin, 1838), in which he sought to prove that, as an empire realizes its
unity only through the monarch, so humanity receives its unity only through a primitive
man (' TJrmensch'), who constituted a part of L God and at the same time lived sole in
created humanity."
Page 657. — "Strauss replied in 1837 in the third number of his 'Streitschriften.'
He said that the school of Hegel, like the French Parliament, had two sides. On the
left side, himself; on the right, Goschel, Gabler, Bruno Bauer; Rosenkranz in the
centre."
Goeschel's " Aphorisms on Agnosticism and Absolute Knowing " was reviewed in
1829 in the " Jahrbucher fur Wissenschaftlicher Kritik " by Hegel himself. In his col-
lected works, Vol. XVII, page 148, at the close of the critique, he says that he "greets in
this book the aurora of coming reconciliation between faith and science." " It is an
evidence of the depth of mind that it can bring the categories of the mere understanding
to the bar of thought — those categories which the evangelical Christians sometimes use
with double inconsistency — siding with rationalism against speculative philosophy, and
at the same time condemning the use of those categories. Rationalism is the antipode of
speculative philosophy as well as of faith. It deals with the shallow doctrines of the
understanding which constitute its self-styled illumination ; as the author of this treat-
ise (Goeschel, page 82) assures us, ' doctrines fast on the decline, but struggling might-
ily in their death-throes.' If the command to avoid all the appearances of evil often
holds us back from good, or at least from fitting deeds, and even causes us to do harm,
the danger of an appearance of partisanship shall not prevent me from glad acknowl-
edgment of the help which this book gives to the cause of truth, nor in behalf of specu-
312 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
combined, for clear insight demands that no one of them shall be
merged in another ; if each one is not explicit, recognition is cloud-
ed, conviction imperilled, and peace of heart destroyed. Through
the adequate apprehension of these relations our intellectually
attained results will be harmonized with the natural needs of the
heart.
The first point to be noticed is, that the finite spirit, despite its
finitude, manifests itself in its independence or indivisibility in
itself. This, however, is only the first moment of its Concept ; the
other moment is that relationship to others whose culmination is
subsistence in God. With this it becomes active — movetur et se
movet. The union of these two moments is the third — the partici-
pation of the finite Spirit with the Absolute Spirit— for Spirit is
of the Spirit. This union is the concrete Unity which presup-
poses the destruction of the two included moments, as relation-
ships. It is this dualism of the moments which we wish now to
consider more attentively.
The indissolubility of the Spirit in itself is the immanent unity
of the soul and its internal body in the Spirit. This Concrete
Unity is the realized truth of abstract simplicity. In other words,
the Spirit gets its Content and its form as its two moments out of
lative philosophy thus served by the work, from thankfully pressing the hand of the
author, who is unknown to me personally."
Again, in his lectures on the "Proofs of the Existence of God" ("Phil, of Religion,"
vol. ii, page 394), he notices the same work again, and says of it: "This work is as
deep in its Christian faith as in its speculative philosophy. It brings into the light all
the points of view and devices which the understanding urges against the theory of
Christianity, and replies to all the attacks which agnosticism has brought against philoso-
phy. It explains in detail the causes of the misapprehension of the pious mind which
fails to apprehend the truth, and sides with rationalism in adopting the principle of ag-
nosticism, and makes common cause with it against philosophy. What the author says
on the self-consciousness of God and of his self-knowing in man, as well as of man's
self-knowing in God, concerns directly the point of view here taken on the proofs of
God's existence. It treats this theme with speculative depth and thoroughness, and ex-
poses the false views that have been advanced against Philosophy and Christianity."
Goeschel himself, in the preface of his work on the " Unity of the System of Thought "
(" Monismus des Gedankens "), a work directed, as above stated, against Weisse, says
that it was written in the same month (November, 1831) in which Hegel died. "I had
hoped with these pages to greet the living Hegel, whom I had never met personally ; I
hoped to become acquainted with him face to face, and to take his hand thankfully, I
who had received his loving hand-pressure from a distance — but it was otherwise or-
dained, and these leaves now fall upon his grave." — Editor J. S. P.
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 313
itself. The unity of the two moments is shown in the fact that,
according to the varying position of Consciousness, the soul of the
Spirit appears now as the Content and now as the formative activ-
ity ; and in like manner the body of the Spirit shows itself now
as form and again as content or material. The form has its con-
tent, and the content has its form in itself. As soon as we truly
comprehend this unity, we have attained the standpoint of specu-
lative philosophy, but not before. Thereafter we wonder that the
speculative concept of Unity is so incomprehensible to the major-
ity of minds, and we grow impatient over what seems to us wilful
blindness. It is universally admitted to be conceivable and com-
prehensible that to each clod and stone belong by nature the two
moments, content and form, material and shape. Yet it is declared
incomprehensible that to the living spirit should belong its two
moments, body and soul ; it is denied that body and soul are both
of the Spirit, and hence that each is in identity with the other.
This indivisibility or unity of the soul is Individuality, which,
in its distinction from natural individuality, is more definitely de-
fined as Subjectivity, and approved as the inalienable possession of
the Spirit. Thus far the unity of the subject is only in itself; it
is still only relationship to its own internal body, and not relation-
ship to anything other than itself. The nature of Spirit is, indeed,
detined to be for Spirit ; in its own body it is its own object ; it
has not, however, as yet been proved to be for itself in relation-
ship to others; its unity and individuality as subject is thus only
its first side.
The other side of the individual Spirit is its participation with
God and with the world, developed out of its relationship to
otherness by means of the double Consciousness. This participa-
tion we have already comprehended in the Concept of personality
or individual penetrability. Personality is the outcome of Con-
tinuity or stability, the latter being the abstract and the former
the concrete Concept. Personality is therefore not to be seized
as penetrability in the sense of mere porosity, but as individual
penetrability, i.e., a participation in which individuality is main-
tained. Thus, the first relationship of individuality is contained
in the second ; without the former the latter cannot be. Protected
by the Concept of Personality against pantheism, we may now
venture with Spinoza to represent the participation of the finite
314 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
Spirit with Clod as Concursus Dei and as Creatio Continua : the
Concept of Creation in its distinction from emanation of itself ex-
cludes pantheism. This progressive Creation is the Eternal fount-
ain of life — the condition of all personal persistence. From con-
tinuous participation with God follows also the participation of
the finite Spirit with the total Creation, and from the participa-
tion of each individual follows again the peculiar relationship of
each particular individual to his environment. This relationship,
which appears simultaneously with Consciousness, is, in its com-
pletion and transfiguration, the resurrection, understanding thereby
not merely relationship to the outward body, but with this also
relationship to the whole Creation and to God himself. In the
concept of Personality there is realized in the relationship of the
Subject to God and to the World the same truth which was real-
ized in Individuality in its relationship to the soul — viz., that the
nature of Spirit is to be for the Spirit.
We have now considered the two essential moments of the Spirit
(the moment of self-conscious Individuality, and the moment of
Personality) as relationships of the Spirit to itself and to others ; it
remains now to consider the relationship of these two relation-
ships to each other, in order that each may receive its due signifi-
cance.
The question is: How is the relationship of the Spirit to itself
related to its relationship to others, and vice versa?
Who does not feel that each human heart, in its inmost depths,
longs equally for both relationships, pants for them as the heart
pants for the water-brooks, yearns for them as each creature
yearns for its own element ? According to this feeling, the rela-
tionship of both relationships would seem to be equal ; each is in
the other; Individuality is mediated in Personality, and Person-
ality in Individuality ; herewith they are negatively cancelled as
two relationships, and positively cancelled as one relationship.
Cor nostrum, inquietum est, donee requiescat in Te, Domine J
The heart longs to rest in God, and at the same time to be con-
scious of this rest in God. Moreover, the heart longs for God's
consciousness of its conscious rest in him. Without the one the
other is unthinkable. The death of a particular person as indi-
vidual is, therefore, only the life of the individual hid with Christ
in God ; it is not only hidden — i. e., invisible Spirit — but, as hidden
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 315
with Christ in God, it is forever secure; being invisible, it is
secure from the transitoriuess of visible Being ; it is hidden in
God- and not in the World ; it is not Being immersed in Being,
but Consciousness in Consciousness ; the particular man is hid
with Christ the God-man in God, and herewith his personal iden-
tity is transfigured as Being-for-self is transfigured in Being-in-and-
for self. Death is cheered by the promise of Christ : " Because I
live ye shall live also." Absolute Personality is the life of the Spirit ;
hence it is the condition of finite personality, which, as created
and contingent, receives the life of the Spirit from the Absolute
Self-mediated Personality, first, through the condescension of God
in creation, wherein he breathed into man's nostrils the breath
of life ; second, through Redemption or Second Creation, wherein
God not only condescends to men, but becomes himself incarnate
in the flesh ; finally, through the progressive continuance of both
Creations, the realized promise of Matthew, xxviii, 20 : " Lo, I am
with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Through crea-
ation and redemption, the grace of God, which is the stream of
eternal life, flows uninterruptedly into the finite Spirit. God is
not the God of the dead, but of the living ; in that He is life, the
creature lives in him ; in that He is Absolute Consciousness, the
finite Consciousness is maintained and transfigured in him: God
is all in all, because all is in him. The concept of Personality
demands the maintenance of self-conscious individuality ; it is the
key of the apparent paradox — " I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth
in me." The finite Ego is swallowed up not in Being, but in Ab-
solute Consciousness. This is the underlying truth of Absorption.
KareTTodv 6 Odvaros ei? vIkos. That which is absorbed or swal-
lowed up is Death ; negation is negated ; the abstraction of mere
Being-for-self is cancelled, but Being-for-self is retained as a
moment of the Totality. Death is negatively negated, nega-
tively annulled or swallowed up in the victory which is the posi-
tive annulment or absorption of the subject.
It is easy to see that these moments of Individuality and Per-
sonality exist only in and through each other. Difference or In-
dividuality is paralyzed without Personality — that is, without inter-
penetrative participation — for, lacking this, it lacks that from
which as individual it distinguishes itself; in the same way Per-
sonality without Individuality is void, for it lacks that which pene-
316 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
trates and is penetrable. He who loses one moment of the Spirit
loses both moments, and loses the Spirit itself. If we give up
individuality, we run into pantheism ; if we fail to recognize Per-
sonality, we fall involuntarily into Egoistic dualism.
The underlying truth of pantheism is the surrender of the ab-
stract ego, the mere self ; this self-renunciation gives pantheism
its moral significance, but does not render it less unthinkable. For
the untruth of pantheism is that, in renouncing the selfish ego, it
surrenders also that real selfhood in which consists the essential
nature of spirit. Egoistic dualism, on the other hand, holds fast
by the truth of selfhood ; its defect is that it clings also to the ab-
stract self. Dualism lacks the moment of mediating and permeat-
ing communion. Pantheism lacks the moment of self-conscious
Individuality. Therefore Plato justly replies to the pantheistic
morality of abstract self-renunciation that the longing for personal
immortality is most intense in the noblest men, and is the witness
of their heavenly calling.
Individuality cannot be saved without Personality, and Person-
ality cannot realize its concept without the self-consciousness of
the individual. Hence it is that the separate demonstrations of
Immortality in their isolation prove nothing, but produce convic-
tion when in their union all the preceding moments become ex-
plicit in the all-including mediatorial concept of Personality. In
absolute Personality alone is all personal life realized and perpetu-
ated.
In the dualism of the moments of the finite spirit lies the ex-
planation of man's twofold longing to be himself and to be in
God — to be particular and universal, individual and personal. In
this same dualism is grounded all that doubt of personal persist-
ence which now and then overwhelms each man in presence of the
transitoriness wherein the individual vanishes and only the species
is preserved. Within the human spirit one of its two moments
always preponderates over the other. When in its compelling
force Individuality asserts its supremacy, the finite spirit finds
itself in its indestructible simplicity cutoff from universality. In
this abstraction it is not adequate to itself, yet escape therefrom
seems to involve the loss of self. On the other hand, when this
universality for which the spirit pants asserts its abstract suprem-
acy, the self is freed from the pain and torment of isolation and
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 317
breathes its proper air ; yet at once it seems to vanish like the soli-
tary dewdrop that slips into the ocean and, sacrificed to its own
lonerine for universality, is submerged in the abstract universal.
Here at last we discover the Scylla and Oharybdis of all doubt ;
we have chased donbt to its last hiding-place; we have tracked
self-impeaching thought to its ultimate retreat. Hinc Mae lacry-
mae ! The crater of all doubt, the fountain of all tears shed for
doubt, is the disproportion of the moments of the spirit relatively
to each other. Until this muddy fountain is purified, doubt can
never be wholly overcome.
It is necessary to our more complete comprehension that we
should recognize the distinct yet united moments of the spirit in
their activity in life and thought, for in this activity lies their ac-
tuality. Actuality has already been defined as the Totality of its
moments. This Totality proves itself vital in that its moments
work in and through each other, thus manifesting and realizing
their mutual participation.
As we reflect upon Individuality and grasp its relationship to
Personality as its Actuality, we observe that from this Actuality
arise three relationships which develop in succession from each
other. The conscious difference which we have called the Indi-
viduality of the Subject begets discipline or restraint toward
others. This discipline is based upon relationship to the other of
the subject, who as Individual has also the right to be for self.
Herewith discipline is not only genetically explained, but also jus-
tified as commandment, for though the other is not alien to it, is
yet distinct from the Conscious Subject; otherwise Individuality
would not be actual in Personality. From this discipline is de-
veloped, secondly, respect for and fear of others and reverence for
God ; for though in Personality God is not alien to man, nor the
individual man alien to his brother-man, there remains, neverthe-
less, the difference according to which man knows God as above
and his neighbor as beside him. In that discipline deters and fear
restrains through persistence of the moment of difference, there
arises in the consciousness of the individual Pain at the separation
from others. This Pain will never be entirely lost, because the
longing for others in which it is rooted will never be entirely
stilled. The Moment of Difference, which is the ground of this
longing, though transfigured, must persist eternally in Personality.
318 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
The difference between the three relationships which arise out
of the Activity of Individuality in its relation to Personality may
be more adequately defined as follows : Discipline is the limit,
which, though penetrated, is not wiped out. Fear is the other
which lies beyond this limit, whether above, beneath, or beside the
subject. Pain is the persistent difference between natures essen-
tially one.
On the other hand, there arise from the participation of the
Individual with others, more definitely from Personality, three
relationships in which Personality proves itself active and actual
in relation to the Individuality of Consciousness. In these rela-
tionships the three above mentioned are harmonized. The first
is Freedom, which opposes itself to Discipline and Restraint. It
recognizes in its limit the law before which Discipline bows, but
it penetrates this limit through recognition of its identity with its
other. The second is Love, which stands over against Fear. It
conquers in Fear not an enemy, but a sister; it conquers without
taking the life of the conquered. The third is Joy, which smiles
in the face of Pain; this Joy consists essentially in the conquest
■of Pain, and therefore cannot do without Pain.
If we now grasp together these separate relationships we appre-
hend the totality of the moments which are active in Individu-
ality as Sorrow. This Sorrow we recognize also in God, for as In-
dividual, God is separate and apart from the Individuality of the
creatures whom nevertheless He loves. Creation is seized, there-
fore, as the first passion of God. The totality of the moments in
wdiich Personality is active and actual is, on the contrary, to be
apprehended as " Predominant Blessedness." This triumphant
Blessedness flows from God into and through all souls ; it con-
sists in this — that God, conformably with his Personality, pene-
trates, permeates, and hence personifies the Creature. The soul
of Creation is therefore the finite spirit or man, whose body is —
Nature !
From the concept of Individuality, in its increasing degrees of
activity and actuality, results the more adequate definition of
Representation which is perpetuated in the total Concept, in the
same manner as Individuality is therein positively cancelled. Cor-
respondingly, there results from the concept of Personality the
more definite apprehension of the inclusive concept or absolute
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 319
Knowledge. To know and to be a person is one and the same ;
each pre-supposes the individuality of the Subject — each consists
in participation. The difference between absolute Knowledge
in God and in the finite spirit, as well as the difference between
absolute Knowledge in different men, results from the different
Individuality. The absolute Knowledge of God is immediately
active — the absolute knowledge of man, in its first phase, is pas-
sive and communicated. The Knowledge of God is absolute be-
cause it is the absolute Subject that knows ; the Knowledge of
Man is Absolute because of the Absoluteness of its Object. An
absolute object demands and necessitates absolute recognition.
This is the eternal difference between absolute Knowledge in the
Creator and in the creature ; the Blessed participate in the recog-
nition of the Absolute Subject through recognition of the Abso-
lute Object ; they know what God thinks and knows in that
they read it in his revelation, into which as into a mirror they
eternally gaze.
To this persistent difference between the knowing of the Abso-
lute Spirit and that of the finite spirit must be added, for the mo-
ment, a distinction born of the more adequate apprehension of
knowledge itself. True knowledge consists essentially in the
negation of what is casual and contingent, and demands that all
particular moments shall meet in the totality of the Concept.
Contingencies, as such, are themselves the negation of continuity
and coherence, whence it is evident that the negation of these
negations is the restoration of continuity. In this restored Con-
tinuity or concrete concept the separate Moments are positively
perpetuated, but cancelled so far as regards their abstraction and
isolation. If Knowledge in general consists in the cancelling of
the accidental and immediate, it follows that the knowledge of
God is absolute or perfect knowledge, in that therein all con-
tingencies are negated, all forms of immediacy cancelled, and each
particular comprehended in the totality. The Knowledge of Man,
on the other hand, is absolute only in so far as in Reason is given
the power to solve and cancel the fortuitous ; the solution begins
to be actual when the apparently casual and isolated elements of
Knowledge are recognized as single notes of the universal har-
mony — Moments as yet impenetrated of the inclusive totality, and
when there exists in Consciousness the conviction that what seems
320 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
to be accidental is not really so, and that what is negated in the
Concept is only the contingency of the apparently contingent.
If we now seek to define logically the moments which we
have characterized as discipline and freedom, fear and love, pain
and joy, sorrow and blessedness, representation and concept,
we may say, in a single word, that representation is the moment
of transcendence, and the concept the moment of immanence.
There is no immanence without transcendence, and no transcend-
ence without immanence / the unity of the two in which eacli is
negatively and positively cancelled is — Personality.
Insight into these fundamental relationships is indispensable to
those who wish to orient themselves in Philosophy. The many
are wrecked by Knowledge because they do not know what
Knowledge is, and therefore are not able to apprehend definitely
the relationship of the finite spirit to Knowledge. There is some-
thing really touching in the misconceptions which clog and per-
vert thought in this our day, and by which earnest but darkened
minds are constantly incited to fresh attacks against Philosophy.
Many of these attacks are pure in aim and honest in motive —
and we should gladly hold them guiltless of their misconceptions
did we not realize that ignorance itself is guilt, and not to learn
to recognize one's ignorance is spiritual obduracy.
To escape this stultifying ignorance, let us learn to comprehend
soul and body — the internal and the external body — light and
shadow — the subject and its other — the particular and the uni-
versal, more and more completely in their identity and in their
difference. Grasping them thus, we shall understand their ideal
solution in the concept of personality, and their persistent in-
vincibility in the concept of individuality, and shall be able to
represent vitally Absolute Knowledge in God and man in accord
with the very definite distinction which fiows from the Concept
of the Spirit. Whoever will weigh and ponder the determinations
of these Concepts, as we have striven concisely to indicate them,
will find that through the determination of limit, as applied to the
Concept of Individuality, the validity of externality, as renuncia-
tion, is restored both in its objective necessity as Other-being and
in its subjective aspect as patience and self-denial. Other-being is
the indelible limit which even Mysticism recognizes in the ad-
mission of discipline, but it is the limit over which participation
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 321
manifests itself universally as predominant. Upon this dualism
of the two poles, as distinct Moments, rests that concrete unity
which is not singularity but actual, i. e., personal community.
Fundamentally, this dualism is nothing else than the antithesis of
Being and Thought, the former being the external, the latter the
internal — the union of the two the living Concept.
It is not difficult to see the relationship of this explanation to
the doctrine of immortality. Its kernel lies in the ever-penetrated
yet ever-abiding limit which isolated the individual; the penetra-
tion is eternal because the limit abides, and the eternal duration is
perfection, because it is the Unite that is penetrated in the infinite.
In intimate connection with this insight is the ever-recurring
question with regard to the seat of the soul. Ordinarily this
question is supposed to refer to the position of the soul in the
external body, but if it has any real significance its content must
relate to the ultimate concept of the soul, and be verified in all the
successive stages through which this concept develops.
The underlying ground of the question with regard to the seat
of the soul is the conception of space. Space is, however, exclu-
sively a category of Being, Externality, Corporeality, Matter.
The soul, however, as Thought is opposed to Being, as internality
is opposed to externality, as immaterial is opposed to matter, and
as soul is opposed to body; therefore, the question contains an
obvious contradiction. Neither position in space nor a seat in
the material body can be ascribed to the soul, because the soul
transcends space and proves itself independent of the external
body.
It is important, however, to remark that the contradiction lies
only in the assumed relationship of the soul to space, and does not
inhere in the question with regard to the seat of the soul. The
conception of a seat of the soul, however, involves in itself the
contradiction of presupposing space as its externality, and then
of abstracting and withdrawing itself from space. The contradic-
tion inheres quite as much in the conception of the soul itself as
in the conception of the seat of the soul. The soul as inward has
seat or locality relatively to the outward, or rather as the inward ;
in the outward the soul is its own seat. Hence the soul, like ex-
ternality, manifests itself as a Moment of the Whole. The Whole
is the Spirit to which soul and body, space and position, inward
XX— 21
322 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
and outward, belong as moments ; these moments are negatively
and positively cancelled in Personality as the contradiction of
position and space is solved in movement. As we ascribe to the
finite spirit a soul or Individuality, so we must ascribe to it in
eacli stage of development a seat, i. e., a position relatively to all
other spirits and to God. Of this position as external, death is
the external destruction.
It is worthy of remark that the external life of the individual is
dependent upon individual organism ; this organism again rests
upon the conflict between position and space, soul and body, in-
ward and outward ; finally, this conflict results from the union of
these antithetical moments. When the union is dissolved and
separation occurs, the struggle is over — but the end of the strug-
gle is also the ending of life. Death approaches — " The clock
stands still, the hand falls! All is over! A1J over — nay, this is
the utterance of folly. To be all over is to be pure nothing, and
pure nothing is not."
The soul's doubt of its own im mortality is grounded in the
question of the seat of the soul. "Where is this seat ? No one
knows and no one can know, for position is the negation of the
space in which it is sought. Wherever it may be, to the soul it is
always a stone of stumbling, because it is not only a contradiction
in itself, but through this contradiction leads thought over into
the physiological sphere. The physiological standpoint is the one
most dangerous to psychology. Involuntarily we shiver to hear
that the life of the spirit is dependent on brain and nerves, stomach
and intestines, heart and blood, lungs and breath ; a shudder creeps
over us when it is whispered that all the thoughts and impulses of
the spirit cling to a few feeble filaments, and perish if these be
injured or destroyed ; we grow faint and giddy in presence of
that gloomy and mysterious force of Nature to which the most
brilliant aspirations of the spirit seem to succumb.
And yet, in so doing, Thought but starts back affrighted from
the view of its own categories. The seat of the soul is the here
and now ; the here and now are realized only when the here is
no longer here and the now no longer now, but both move for-
ward. The here in its essential nature is the inward of the out-
ward, therefore it celebrates its victory in death, wherein the out-
ward is transformed.
Goeschel on tlie Immortality of the Soul. 323
Death is logically necessary, for contradiction must be solved,
and to all conflict there is a goal. In that the soul eliminates
from itself the external that separates it from itcelf, it enters into
relationship with that sphere of externality which does not separate
it from itself. This is the region where position is transfigured
into individuality, and space into personality, and wherein indi-
viduality and personality are no longer antithetic, like position
and space, but are mutually conditioned and affirmed. Here at
last the contradiction is solved, and the relationship of the physio-
logical to the psychological sphere discovered.
In these two moments of Individuality and Personality — Being-
for-self and Being-in-and-for-self — the relationship of the theologi-
cal and psychological spheres comes also more clearly to light.
Immortality demands, on the one hand, that the individual shall
persist in his being-for-self, and, on the other hand, that, in order
to this self-persistence, he shall be personal — i. e., must be in pene-
trating and penetrated communion with the Absolute Spirit.
Where shall we find the guarantee of conditioned personality save
in Absolute Personality? How can I be if God is not?
The underlying ground of the conception of Immortality in its
first phase is the preservation of individuality. It is, however,
soon discovered that this individuality, in its immediate abstract
form, cannot be perpetuated, and that only through its constant
renewal and regeneration in personality — i. e., through participa-
tion with God — is it secure against extinction. Hereupon are
grounded all representations of mortality in the soul and the per-
sistence of the same — the former in its outcome relatino- to the
transfiguration of the Soul in Personality ; the latter to the awak-
ening of the Soul into Spirit. All psychological investigation
leads over into the theological sphere, because the finite spirit
points forever to the Absolute Spirit. The intellectual proofs of
the existence of God are, first of all, sighs of the soul for commun-
ion with God. The need of this communion incites the question
with regard to the existence and revelation of God : " My soul
thirsteth for God, for the living God ; when shall I come and
appear before God?" The question is twofold, referring to God
and to me, demanding that God shall be, and that I shall appear
before Him. This is the double goal of all theological demon-
stration : to see God — to know God — to experience in self God's
324 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
actuality and activity — this is the consummate longing and strug-
gle of man. And what is knowing God other than knowing one's
self to be in communion with God ?
This relationship of participation between man and God is,
however, grounded solely in the personality belonging to the Cre-
ator and through Him communicated to man. The eternal per-
sonality of God is the source of the immortal personality of man.
Were the human spirit incapable of recognizing God, it would be
incapable of immortality. Immortality and the knowledge of
God are one and the same; both are the inheritance of humanity.
As Dante says (" Paradiso " iv, verse 124) :
" Well I perceive that never sated is
Our intellect unless the Truth illume it
Beyond which nothing true expands itself.
It rests therein, as wild beast in his lair,
When it attains it ; and it can attain it ;
If not, then each desire would frustrate be."
Thus both forms of proof in their content and consummation
meet in the confident assurance, " 1 shall see God, whom I shall
see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another." In
order to see God, the subject is as necessary as God himself — the
subject sees because it is seen ; God is seen because He sees.
Hence, passivity exists in God in so far as He is seen, but this
passivity is at once annulled, for the seeing of the subject is in
God, from God, and through God. The result is always the same :
the finite spirit finds its actuality and immortality in communion
with the Absolute Spirit. It doth not yet appear what we shall
be, but the highest consummation is always that we shall see God
as He is. Hence, we are like unto God, and, like Him, of imper-
ishable nature. In the vision of God man attains his imperishable
goal, or the actuality of that image of God in which he is created.
Toward this vision consciously and unconsciously is directed all
the thought, all the imagination, and all the aspiration of the soul.
Yet this future blessedness is only certain in so far as it is present,
and it is present only when, like Dante, we climb to the heights
of Paradise, and taste beforehand the joys of heaven in the recog-
nition of God.
To the general question of immortality may now be added the
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 325
special question with regard to the condition of the soul after death
and before and after the resurrection of the body. Thus far we
have in appearance occupied ourselves solely with the whether,
and have held in abeyance the how of immortality. It needs,
however, but a single glance to convince us that in answering; the
whether we answer the how. Immortality, or the individual per-
sistence of the soul, can be verified only as the personal participa-
tion of the finite spirit with the absolute spirit. As thus defined,
the whether and how of immortality are identical. The condition
of the soul after death consists in its personal relationship to that
Absolute Personality which we have already learned to know in
its essential relationship to individuality. We have also discussed
in some measure the difference in this relationship before and after
the resurrection of the body. This doctrine of the resurrection
of the body is, in general, most sensuously apprehended by those
who reject it as sensuous ; they would not reject it had they not
first misunderstood it. It is a doctrine which deals not with the
flesh, but with the transfiguration and resurrection of the flesh ;
not with the external, but with the passing away of externality ;
not with the other, but with the appropriation and inclusion of
the other. It is marvellous that, while no doctrine of Scripture
or the Church tends so directly as this to the overthrow of the
flesh, there is no doctrine to which fleshliness lias been so widely
and persistently imputed. Its true meaning might easily be in-
ferred from its position in our confessions of faith. It belongs to
the third article of faith, which relates to the spirit ; this article
teaches the unity of the body with the soul in the finite spirit, and
the communion of the finite spirit with the absolute spirit and
with his church. It needs really but very little reflection to be
convinced that those who declare the resurrection of the body in-
compatible with a spiritual faith have themselves imagined the
fleshliness which they first impute to and then blame upon the
doctrine. While, on the one hand, it is cruel and despotic to vio-
late the freedom of reason by insisting upon the formal acceptance
of an unmediated truth, it is, on the other hand, to be deplored
and denounced when reason cuts itself off from that progressive
mediation which its nature demands, persists in darkness by clos-
ing its eyes to the light and contemptuously rejecting what it does
net understand, loses the truth it might have learned to know.
326 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
The question is so important and yet so neglected that it is
well worth our while to bring it clearly before us. It is with this
doctrine as with the doctrine of the Trinity, the glory of which,
according to Dante (" Paradiso," xxxiii, 76-81, 112, sq.), bewilders
only those who avert their gaze from it.
In an earlier stage of our inquiry we learned to grasp resurrec-
tion as the transfiguration not only of the external body but of
all externality. The transfiguration of the body is not possible
without the transfiguration of Nature ; the one implies and de-
mands the other. Hence, resurrection in the more adequate
development of its content is the transfiguration of the original
relationship of each finite subject to all other finite subjects, to
Nature and to God. Under this original relationship is under-
stood the position of the particular subject appointed in accord
with its aboriginal essence in God, partially and externally real-
ized during our earthly life in consciousness and transfigured
after death into that shining, translucent limit which ever distin-
guishes without isolating the particular subject. This definite
position or relation of each particular subject is conditioned both
by the persistence of the particular body with all its organs and
by the perpetuation of the particular environment, for both body
and environment are contained in the definite, complete, and
peculiar relationship of each individual. To this relationship
belong even " the wedding robe of pale-green silk, embroidered
with gold and silver leaves, which yonder shall become the heav-
enly raiment," and the "jewelled nosegay stolen by a cruel thief,"
and which even now " is catching the light of the stars that it
may sparkle more brilliantly when placed as a diadem on the
brow of the bride. 1 ' "Why is this face mine, and why should the
soul speak through these eyes, unless this face and these eyes
were my soul's permanent possession ? " " All our discoveries
shall be guarded above." Our fancies and imaginations shall be
the hangings which will adorn our heavenly habitations.
It seems like a jest that Goethe's mother cannot forget her
bridal dress, but hopes to have it again in heaven, together with
her stolen nosegay ; but even such things as these belong to that
individual relationship which can suffer no loss and whose integ-
rity will never be impaired. It is this relationship which is purified
and transfigured in the resurrection. As in its externality on this
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 327
side the grave it is movable and yet remains the same, so on the
other side, in its progressive internality, it will become penetrable
without ceasing to be the same. That movableness is externally
what personality is internally, we have already learned through
development of the antithesis between space and position.
From these suggestions, which we shall not attempt to develop
in detail, the difference in the condition of the soul between death
and the resurrection and after the resurrection may readily be
apprehended. This difference has already been defined : it lies in
the concept of perfection first realized in the resurrection, though
ideally given in the Spirit. This concept negates the representa-
tion of the abstract infinite — a representation already shattered
by the reflection that in each Moment of Becoming already lies
Being; and in continuous thinking, Thought develops itself out
of itself.
It has also been already shown that the soul as spirit is its own
body ; therefore after death it can not be bodiless. Hence all
representations of the soul after death, as in a temporary state
of sleep or dreams, together with all the images which cluster
about a Hades or intermediate stare of the soul, must be relegated
to the sphere of ingenious fancies and understood as dreams of
the soul which has not yet awakened into spirit. Implicit in
these dreams and fancies, however, is the germ of a vital truth —
the truth, that the soul as such dies to be born again as Self-Con-
sciousness; and the double consciousness herewith given, dying of
its own dialectic, awakes regenerate through the identity of con-
sciousness into the Personality of the Spirit.
Hence it follows that the soul is not first separated from the
body through death, but is already separated from it by Self-Con-
sciousness. Death only actualizes the separation which conscious-
ness has recognized. Hence it follows further that the soul, in
that it separates itself from its eternal body first through con-
sciouness and then through death, has its limit or body in itself,
and retains this immanent body both in consciousness and in
death, which only realizes what consciousness implies. Hence
again it results, first, that the soul through death develops to a
higher perfection than it possessed in life, because in death sepa-
ration or complete Self-Consciousness is achieved, and thus the
transfiguration of and reunion with otherness is prepared ; second,
328 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
that the soul attains its consummation in the resurrection be-
cause therein Personality as penetration of all otherness is com-
pletely actualized. The external body in its relationship to the
subject is distinguished from all other bodily or natural external-
ity only as the shirt is distinguished from the coat.
So much with regard to the condition of the soul after death
and before and after the resurrection. The next point to be con-
sidered is the condition of the body after death and before and
after the resurrection. Separated from the soul, the body sepa-
rates from itself, and only when this division and dissolution is
complete, only when its decomposition is entire, can it reunite
with itself in the soul by which it is penetrated and through
which it is glorified.
Herewith, at least, we have found the adequate categories which
shall be our guides in that further development that Absolute Sci-
ence, far from excluding, inaugurates and compels. That our
hearts may be still more strengthened within us, let us reflect
for still a single moment upon that individuality of Self-Conscious-
ness which is perpetuated in personal participation.
The beautitul image of two drops of water which in the mo.
ment of contact melt into one is a touching symbol of that mo-
ment of communion for which each subject in his isolation longs.
It expresses, however, rather the longing for communion than the
truth of communion, for in it, instead of participation, we have
intermixture — instead of co?nmunio, confusio. What is lacking is
the personal communion gleaming with the rays of individuality.
But the Kingdom of Nature offers other aualoo-ies in which are
reflected the relationships of personal communion in the Kingdom
of the Spirit. Plato in the " Timseus " bids us notice that as colors
are most brilliant in the light, so the individuality of the body is
heightened when penetrated by the soul. In light both the dif-
ference and the community of colors are preserved ; each color
has light for its soul and darkness for its body ; each separate
color sparkles and burns more brightly as it is more deeply pene-
trated by the universal light. And not only in universal light are
the particular colors preserved and intensified ; they perpetuate
themselves also in their ethereal interfusion — each giving to the
other richness — no one in the others losing itself. Only when
mixed with earthy substances do they in their union decompose
Goeschel on the Immortality of the Soul. 329
into dull gray ; only when fallen from their first estate do they
need purification ; before reunited with the heavenly colors they
can glow and sparkle in the penetrating light.
Suggestive and interesting as these analogies may be, they are,,
nevertheless, very dangerous. Taken from the realm of Nature,
they can correspond only externally with the realm of Spirit.
Only the external image of the Actual can ever be sensuously
represented. What constitutes the truth of the Actual is that it
cannot be represented, but must ever be revealed only to pure
thought. It is therefore hazardous to develop these sensuous sym-
bols in detail. Nevertheless, we shall permit ourselves to draw
one single parallel.
Colors are three, but the gradations of each color and the tran-
sitions from one color into another are numberless, and yet not
without law. Above, these colors focalize in glowing purple, be-
low they concentrate in living green. Purple is the royal color,
the ethereal identity and totality of all colors ; green is its coun-
terpart or earthy image — the second identity of colors. Green
points upward to red as the world points upward to God and the
soul of man points upward to the Absolute Spirit. Again, the
colors which are one in red, into which purple decomposes and
from which it creates itself anew, are yellow and blue, soul and
body. Yellow is the concrete light, blue is the concrete darkness,
and it is these two colors which focalize above in purple, meet be-
low in green, and in their original unity kindle and burn as red.
It is marvellous that the poet of the " Divina Commedia " has
chosen this image of color to symbolize the beatific vision of the
Holy Trinity wherein the pilgrim recognizes the uncreated origi-
nal of the created image, and out of whose eternal fulness he drinks
in renewal and immortality. As the concrete unity of substance
and light, body and soul, color is not only the third and inclusive
moment of its concept, but this third moment in its concrete
unity is itself again threefold.
" Within the deep and luminous subsistence
Of the High Light appeared to me three circles,
Of threefold color and of one dimension,
And by the second seemed the first reflected
As Iris is by Iris, and the third
Seemed fire that equally from both is breathed..
330 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
NOTES AND DISCUSSIONS.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF KANT IN EXTRACTS.
To the Editor of the Journal of Speculative Philosophy :
Dear Sir : Will you allow me a word of explanation in regard to my
" Philosophy of Kant in Extracts," of which a very kind notice appears
in the April number of your " Journal." Unfortunately, the book is now
out of print; but I propose to issue a new edition as soon as possible.
May I request those who believe that such a work is needed to send me
any suggestions that may enable me to make it more useful ? Your own
suggestion, to give extracts from the " Naturwissenschaft," I shall duly
consider. It has also become evident to me that more space must be
devoted to the Moral Philosophy of Kant, and that the " Metaphysic of
Ethics," as well as the " Kritik of Practical Reason," must be laid under
contribution. It must, however, be borne in mind that the primary
object of the work is not to serve as a substitute for the study of Kant,
but as an introduction to that study. My experience as a teacher of
philosophy has taught me that some very powerful irritant is needed to
awaken the ail-too receptive students of our universities from their " dog-
matic slumber." Lectures about philosophy are not sufficiently stimu-
lative of independent thought, and are apt to substitute one dogmatism
for another. Philosophy means nothing for a man unless it enables him
to philosophize for himself. The very difficulty of Kant's thought and
language make the study of his own writings a valuable discipline. Be-
sides, Kant is the vestibule to all modern philosophy worthy of the name.
The pitiable condition of our English psychology, which continues to
mumble over the dry bones of Locke, under the hallucination that it is
doing all that could be expected of it, shows how indispensable is the
study of Kant. For these and other reasons, I think I may venture to
ask for the kind assistance of my fellow-teachers of philosophy and others
in making the new edition of my book as complete as possible. It is
my intention to add a few explanatory foot-notes, which, may save those
who make use of the work in teaching some little trouble, and may set
them free to give their main energy to the criticism of Kant himself.
As to the propriety of a short critical introduction, I am more doubtful,
and should be glad to have the opinion of others. The book must, of
Notes and Discussions. 331
course, be kept within reasonable limits, so that it may adapt itself even
to the slender purse of the student who is cultivating philosophy on a
little oatmeal. The price per copy must not, I think, exceed $1.50. For
this reason I cannot, I fear, adopt the suggestion of my friend, Prof.
Burt, of Michigan University, to print the German text as well as the
English equivalent. Of course if there were a guarantee of the regular sale
of the book in any quantity, the number of pages might be increased
without increase of the price.
John Watson.
University of Queen's College, Kingston, Ont.,
July, 1886.
PHILOSOPHY AT MICHIGAN' UNIVERSITY.
[We have received from the Philosophical Department of the Univer-
sity of Michigan the following announcement of a series of papers, some
of which are already prepared and ready for the press ; while others are
promised, should the undertaking meet with sufficient encouragement.
It will be noted that the subjects included in the announced series are of
wide and diversified interest, and from the character of the authors we
are assured that they will be discussed in a clear yet thorough and philo-
sophical manner :]
Under the collective title, " Philosophical Papers," it is proposed to issue serially a
collection of monographs relating to various philosophical subjects, or aiming at a philo-
sophical treatment of miscellaneous topics.
The first series, to be issued during the present year — probably during the first half
of the year — will consist of four numbers, containing the following papers and addresses,
delivered before the Philosophical Society of the University of Michigan :
I. University Education. Prof. G. S. Morris.
II. Goethe and the Conduct of Life. Prof. Calvin Thomas.
III. Educational Value of Different Studies. Prof. W. H. Payne.
j Philosophy and Literature. Prof. B. C. Burt.
( Herbert Spencer as a Biologist. Prof. H. Sewall.
Such papers as these will, it is believed, be valuable and attractive to the large and
rapidly growing number of those who are interested in the serious, yet not too technical,
discussion of current problems in philosophy, both in themselves and in their bearing
on leading questions in literature, science, education, art, and religion. The success of
the "first series" would be taken as an encouragement to go on in the future, develop-
ing such germs of growth and usefulness as this venture in publication may contain.
In that case the papers to be published hereafter would not necessarily be confined — as
in the present case — to those read before the Philosophical Society and written by pro-
fessors.
The undersigned, speaking with regard to all the papers mentioned above, except his
own, is able to vouch for their attractiveness, and for this reason, as well as others im-
plied in the foregoing, very earnestly and respectfully solicits of all to whom this circular
332 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
may be addressed, their patronage of the present series. Any aid rendered in circu-
lating the knowledge of it among those likely to be interested will be gratefully appre-
ciated. Geo. S. Morris,
Prof, Logic, Ethics, and History of Philosojihy.
Terms: For the first series of four numbers, 75 cents. Single copies, 25 cents.
Prices include postage. Please send names and subscription-money to
Andrews & Witherby, Publishers,
Ann Arbor, Mich.
SENTENCES IN PROSE AND VERSE.
SELECTIONS BY W. E. CHANNING.
It has been well said that we expect one faculty to do the work of an
other in mental and moral life. Especially in regard to the functions of
reason and conscience do we make this mistake. The conscience "is not
alone expected to enforce doing what is right, but to decide what the
right is." — "Bethesda" by Barbara Elbon.
Alternate hours of reading and solitary wanderings along the shore,
filled with somber romance, in which the atmosphere of renunciation, the
gray thundering ocean, the majestic rocks, and his wholly retrospective
life combined to accentuate the grave cast of character which peculiarly
distinguished him. — Ibid.
Who, indeed, can describe the processes of growth, the blossoming of
a plant, the details of a sunrise ? Infinitesimal atoms meet, and coalesce,
and vibrate, and increase, and after a long period we perceive a color.
The vibrations quicken and intensify, and another hue becomes sensible
to us. But who can trace the changing? Who can see the subtle causes
and the still subtler effects ? Finally, when white light is achieved, what
is it but dazzling radiance, before which our eyes fall, blurred, blinded,
well-nigh destroyed through excess of sight ? — Ibid.
The attitudes she assumed, clearly cut against the soft radiance, were
exquisite. Once or twice, with the little impatient gesture that was de-
lightfully familiar to him, she tossed the mantle of her hair aside, and, in
falling, its duskiness caught golden gleams that made it seem alive. — Ibid.
She was radiantly and gloriously happy. She asked nothing of life ;
existence had blossomed into its rarest flower and placed it in her hand.
She was awed by its beauty ; she was well-nigh overpowered by its fra-
grauce. Each moment throbbed with' a million hearts, which yet seemed
incapable of containing her bliss. Her mind could not conceive its ex-
tent ; her being could not contain it. — Ibid.
Booh Notices. 333
BOOK NOTICES.
La Revue Philosophique for January, 1881, contains:
"Neo-Kantianism in France," by A. Fouillee. "Neo-Kantianism," according to M.
Fouillee, is much less orthodox as maintained by Renouvier than that of several other
contemporary French philosophers, and should be called semi-Kantianism. This article
gives the views of Renouvier with Fouillee's criticism. " The Philosophical Consequences
of Modern Physics," by E. Naville. "Political Integration," II., by Herbert Spencer.
Notes and Documents :
" Descartes and the National Convention."
Books examined are:
Bacon's " Novum Organum," with Introduction by Thomas Fowler. " Brains and
Soul," by Wundt (Germ.). " The Journal of Speculative Philosophy," " Mind," July-
October, 1880. "The Platonist."
"The Review "for February, 1881, contains: "Philosophy in Scotland since the
Beginning of the XVIII Century. First Period." By A. Espinas. The author gives
an historical view of Philosophy in Scotland, and compares it with the state of Philoso-
phy in England. " Political Differentiation," by Herbert Spencer. " The Teaching of
Philosophy in German Universities," by H. Lachelier. M. Lachelier gives a detailed
and statistical rather than critical article upon this subject, and one of value and inter-
est to philosophical and educational societies. He states that the teaching of philosophy
in Germany is reserved almost exclusively for the universities. The student from a
gymnasium has everything to learn in philosophy. Comparing the German with the
French course, he continues, that the professors of secondary instruction in France are
obliged to follow a certain course in a limited time, while the German professor, who
has no official course, and who has true students, is absolutely free in his choice of sub-
ject and in his manner of treating it, and is not limited as to time. There is no rule as
to the number of professors in a German university, and more attention is paid to phi-
losophy than is given to law in other universities. Leipzig has the most important uni-
versity, having twenty-two classes in philosophy, nearly as many as all the French
faculties united. After Leipzig come Berlin and Gottingen, then Munich. The name
of a professor attracts more students than the course itself. Wundt and Drobisch at
Leipzig, Zeller and Lazarus at Berlin, Lotze at Gottingen, and Kuno Fischer at Heidel-
berg. The professors teach their own philosophy, and often a course is only the resume
of a work of theirs simplified. Among young professors the general tendency is a re-
turn to the Kantian spirit, for scientific philosophy, which is becoming every day more
extended, also pretends to remain within the domain of criticism. The new critical
and scientific philosophy of M. Wundt at Leipsic can be regarded as a branch of Neo-
Kantianism. Metaphysics is taught only by a small number of professors, almost all of
the school of Hegel. Any branch of philosophy touching upon religious questions is
prudently avoided by German professors. M. Lachelier gives a table of the course of
studies, and remarks that the best part of the German system of instruction is Psychol-
ogy and General Logic, which are given in the best critical and scientific spirit.
Books examined are:
"The Unconscious Life of the Mind," by E. Colsenet. "Death and the Devil."
*' The History and Philosophy of Two Supreme Negations," by Pompeyo Gener (Fr.).
334 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
"Erasmus Darwin," by E. Krause and Ch. Darwin. "The Question of the Historical
Evolution of the Development of the Sense of Color," by A. Marty. " On the Nature
of Psychical Phenomena: Study of General Psychology," by (J. Sergi. "Positivism
and Rationalism," by Antonino Maugeri (Dal.).
"The Revue" for March, 1881, contains: "The Last Book of G. H. Lewes," by J.
Delbceuf. The criticism of Lewes, which forms the substance of this article, is based
upon " Problems of Life and Mind," and a personal sketch of the author is added.
" Religion, Philosophy, and Science," by Ch. Secretan. The ideas of the author on these
subjects are given in epigrammatic form. "Religion, philosophy, and science," he
says, " are not three processes of unequal value to reach the solution of the same prob-
lem ; on the contrary, they each have their problem and distinct object." " Forms and
Political Forces," by Herbert Spencer. " Platonic Education," by P. Tannery.
Books examined are :
" On Spencer's Formula of Evolution," by Malcolm Guthrie (Eng.). "Certainty and
Recent Forms of Skepticism," by L. Robert. " Metaphysics and Ds Relations to Other
Sciences," by Th. Desdouits. "Monistic Philosophy," by A.Rosenthal. "The Helio-
centric Standpoint for Considering the World," by A. Bilharz.
" The Revue" for April, 1881, contains : " A Critique on the Morals of Kant," by A.
Fouillee. " If Pascal were to return to the world and were still a Christian, he would
probably be a follower of Kant," says this author, for the beliefs maintained by Kant
constituted the loftiest and most subtle form of Christianity. Kant said : " I ought to
abolish science to make way for faith." A lengthy comparison of Kant and Pascal fol-
lows.
" The Last Book of G. H. Lewes," by J. Delbceuf (concluded). " Political Chiefs,"
by Herbert Spencer.
Books examined are :
" The Infinite and Quantity," by F. Evellin (Fr.). " Physiological Psychology," by W.
Wundt (Ger.). " Clinical Studies on Hysterical Epilepsy or great Hysteria," by Dr. P.
Richer.
"The Revue" for May, 1881: "Aryan Cosmogonies," by J. Darmesteter. This
article gives the various answers given by the various cosmologies of the principal In-
do-European peoples of the world to the question, " Whence comes the world, when
was it fashioned, and how ? " " Contemporary Philosophers, M. Cournot," by T. Y.
Charpentier. " M. Cournot," says Charpentier, " explains with perfect clearness the
principles of modern logic." He gives a minute account of them. " Anthropological
Problems," " The Question of Criminals," by Dr. G. Le Bon. " This question," says Dr.
Le Bon, " has so many different aspects that it is impossible to treat it by the light of
one single science ; it must be examined from the medical, psychological, juridical, and
social standpoint. From the medical standpoint he finds the brains of criminals in an
abnormal condition, producing disturbance in their functions. Legal physicians find
that vice is a pleasure to criminals, and that they have not intelligence and will enough
to overcome their inclinations when they are liable to do them harm, and the keepers of
prisons find that there is little hope of reforming them. The author gives the result of
heredity upon criminals and classifies them. The article is of utmost sociological im-
portance. " Elementary Memory," by Dr. Ch. Richet.
Books examined are :
" Sociology, with a Bearing upon Ethnography," by Ch. Letourneau (Fr.). " The
Emotions," by Dr. MacCosh.
Book Notices. 335
Bibliographical Notices :
" Theory of Negative Quantities," by E. de Campou. " M. de Montyon," F. Labour.
" Darwin's Theory," G. Canestrini.
" The Revue " for June contains " The role of Movement in Esthetic Emotions," by
Georges Gueroult. The author studies the possible pleasure to be derived from move-
ment in other arts than music, in which it is commonly found. His theories and obser-
vations are original and interesting. " A Critique on the Morals of Kant " (continued),
by A. Fouillee. " Compound Governments," Herbert Spencer. Sclf-Love — a Psycho-
logical Study," Adrien Naville. M. Naville demonstrates the utility of praise and stimu-
lating self-love in producing activity which must be ideal and not merely physical.
Books examined are :
" Elements of Psychology," G. Sergi. " The Study of the History of Philosophy,"
Ardigo (Ital.). "Kant's Criticism of Judgment," by Benno Erdmann (Germ.). "Re-
formers and Publicists of Europe," Franck (Fr.). " Discourse upon Metaphysics "
(Span.), by Ares y Sanz.
" The Revue " for July, 1881, contains : " Project of an International Congress of Psy-
chology," by J. Ochorowiez. Dr. Julian Ochorowicz, Privat-Dovent of psychology of the
University at Lemberg, writes the above article in French, his purpose being to estab-
lish unity in the study of psychology. By the means of a Congress he maintains that
other specialists would become versed in Psychology to its benefit. He discusses the
science and offers much information upon the subject which he invests with unusual
interest. " Scotch Philosophy in the XVIII Century and the Origin of Contemporary
English Philosophy" (second article), by A. Espinas. "The Role of Movement in Es-
thetic Emotions," by G. Gueroult (concluded). " The Consultative Body," by Herbert
Spencer.
Books examined are:
" Sociology," by A. de Roberty (Fr.). " Epicureanism," by W. Wallace. " The Method
of Descartes with a new Introductory Essay," by J. Veitch.
Bibliographical Notices :
" Modern Ideas ; Cosmology ; Sociology," by Leopold Bresson (Fr.). " Anton Giinther ;
a Biography," by P. Knoodt (Ger.). "Pedagogy and Darwinism," by S. F. de Dominicis.
"The Family as an Educator," by C. Rosa (Ital).
"The Revue" for August, 1881, contains: "On the Value of the Syllogism," by Paul
Janet. " The Syllogism is rightly regarded as the severest form of reasoning," observes
M. Janet, who has much to say in this article on {he views of J. Stuart Mill. " Scotch
Philosophy in the XVIII Century and the Origins of English Contemporary Philosophy,"
by A. Espinas (3d article). " Platonic Education," by P. Tannery (3d article).
Books examined are :
"Education from the Cradle," an essay of Experimental Pedagogy by B. Perez (Fr.).
" Kant's Criticism — an Historical Study," by Benno Erdmann (Ger.). " Descartes," by J.
P. Mahaffy.
Bibliographical Notices :
"Materialist Philosophy; introduction to Metaphysics," by B. Conta (Fr.). "Force
and Matter," by G. Piola (Ital.). " The Philosophy of Religion," by 0. Pfleiderer (Ger.).
Reviews of "Mind," April, 1881, "The Platonist," "Princeton Review."
"The Revue," for September, 1881, contains: "Representative Bodies," by Herbert
Spencer. " Psychology in Political Economy," by G. Tarde. " The Theory of the Hu-
morous in German Esthetics," by Ch. Benard. This is a somewhat scientific study
336 The Journal of /Speculative Philosophy.
of mirth, humor, and laughter, with a review of much that has been written on the sub-
ject by various authors.
Books examined are :
" Types of Contemporary Philosophic Thought in Germany," by P. Miloslawski (Russ.).
" Kant's Critique — an Historical Study," by Benno Erdmann (concluded). " Essay on
Natural Philosophy," by J. Tissot.
" The Revue " for October contains : " Hermann Lotze, his Life and Writings," by
E. Rehnisch. In the biography preceding the philosophical critique on Lotze we are
told that he died suddenly three months after being called to fill the place of Hegel. He
devoted a series of publications to philosophical considerations on the study of medicine,
and tried to teach physicians the relation between the body and soul. " A Critic on the
Morals of Kant," by A. Fouillee (concluded). " Military Society," by Herbert Spencer,
" Psychology in Political Economy," by G. Tarde.
Notes and Discussions :
" On the Nature of the Syllogism," by L. Arreat.
Books examined are :
" The Perception of the Human Body by Consciousness," by Alexis Bertrand. " Man
and Societies, their Origin and History," by Dr. Gustave le Bon (Fr.). "On Illusions, a
"Psychological Study," by James Sully (Eng.).
"The Revue "for November, 1881, contains : "The Logic of J. Stuart Mill," by V.
Brochard. This work, being translated into French, met with remarkable favor, ac-
counted for by M. Brochard as follows : " Not to mention the incontestable value of the
work, the precision, finesse, and even subtlety of the English logician, it established in-
ductive logic which Bacon only sketched. Filled with a scientific spirit, full of exam-
ples borrowed from Nature's science, absolutely different in style, tone, and manner of
thought from the somewhat heavy and pedantic character of ancient logic, and still in
conformity with the tendencies of the modern spirit, it should be warmly received by
those who devote attention to the problems it treats of." " Industrial Society," by
Herbert Spencer (final article).
Notes and Discussions :
" The Feeling of Effort," by W. James (Eng.), reviewed by J. Delbceuf. This review
is a resume of the theories and study of Mr. James, rather than a critical analysis.
Books examined are;
" Studies on Selection in its Relations with Heredity in Man," by Dr. Paul Jacoby.
"The New Horizon of Law and Penal Proceedings," by Enrico Ferri. "Mathematical
Psychics " (Eng.).
Bibliographical Notices :
"The Revue" for December, 1881, contains: "Irritability and Cerebral Reaction,"
by Ch. Richet. This article gives a scientific study of the brain and contains more
of facts than theory. " The Logic of J. Stuart Mill," by V. Brochard (concluded). " Pla-
tonic Education," by P. Tannery (concluded).
Books examined are:
" The Psychical Life of Animals," by Dr. Louis Buchner. " The Unity of the Forces
of Gravitation and Inertia," by Eudore Pirmez (Fr.). " The Unity of the Forces of Na-
ture and the Meaning of their General Formula," by 0. Schmitz-Dumont (Ger.). " On
the Algebra of Logic," by C. S. Peirce (Eng.). " Verses of a Philosopher," by M. Guyau
(Fr.).
Reviews of "The Journal of Speculative Philosophy," "Mind," and "The Platonist,"
July-October, 1881. Virginia Champlin.
THE JOURNAL
OF
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY
Vol. XX.] October, 1886. [No. 4.
THE DIVINE PYMAJSTDER OF HERMES
[TRISMEGISTUS.
[REPRINTED FROM THE OLD ENGLISH TRANSLATION.]
THE TENTH BOOK OF HERMES TRISMEGISTUS : THE MINDE
TO HERMES.
1. Forbear thy Speech, O Hermes Trismegistus, and call to
minde those things that are said ; but I will not delay to speak
what comes into my minde, sithence many men have spoken many
things and those very different, concerning the Universe, and
Good ; but I have not learned the Truth.
2. Therefore, the Lord make it plain to me in this point ; for I
will believe thee only, for the manifestation of these things.
3. Then said the Minde how the case stands.
4. God and All.
5. God, Eternity, the World, Time, Generation.
6. God made Eternity, Eternity the World, the World Time,
and Time Generation.
7. Of God, as it were, the Substance, is the Good, the Fair,
Blessedness, Wisdom.
8. Of Eternity, Identity, of Selfness.
9. Of the World, Order.
10. Of Time, Change.
11. Of Generation, Life and Death.
12. But the Operation of God, is Minde and Soul.
13. Of Eternity, Permanence, or Long-lasting, and Immortality.
XX— 22
338 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
14. Of the World, Restitution, and Decay, or Destruction.
15. Of Time, Augmentation and Diminution.
1.6. And of Generation qualities.
17. Therefore, Eternity is in God.
18. The World in Eternity.
19. Time in the World.
20. And Generation in Time.
21. And Eternity standeth about God.
22. The World is moved in Eternity.
23. Time is determined in the World.
24. Generation is done in Time.
25. Therefore, the Spring and Fountain of all things is God.
26. The Substance Eternity.
27. The Matter is the World.
28. The Power of God is Eternity.
29. And the Work of Eternity, is the World not yet made, and
yet ever made by Eternity.
30. Therefore, shall nothing be at any time destroyed, for
Eternity is incorruptible.
31. Neither can anything perish, or be destroyed in the World,
the World being contained and embraced by Eternity.
32. But what is the Wisdom of God ? Even the Good and the
Fair, and Blessedness, and every Vertue, and Eternity.
33. Eternity, therefore, put into the Matter Immortality and
Everlastingness ; for the Generation of that depends upon Eternity
even as Eternity doth of God.
34. For Generation and Time, in Heaven and in Earth, are of
a double Nature ; in Heaven they are unchangeable and incor-
ruptible ; but on Earth they are changeable and corruptible.
35. And the Soul of Eternity is God ; and the Soul of the
World, Eternity ; and of the earth Heaven.
36. God is in the Minde, the Minde in the Soul, the Soul in the
Matter, all things by Eternity.
37. All this Universal Body, in which are all Bodies, is full of
Soul, the Soul full of Minde, the Minde full of God.
38. For within he fills them, and without he contains them,
quickening the Universe.
39. Without, he quickens this perfect living thing the World,
and within all living Creatures.
The Divine Pyma/nder of Hermes Trismegistus. 339
40. And above in Heaven he abides in Identity or Selfhess, but
below upon Earth lie changeth Generation.
41. Eternity comprehendeth the World either by necessity, or
Providence, or by Nature.
42. And if any man shall think any other thing, it is God that
actuateth, or operateth this All.
43. But the operation or Act of God, is Power insuperable, to
which none may compare anything, either Humane or Divine.
44. Therefore, O Hermes, think none of these things below, or
the things above, in anyw T ise like unto God ; for if thou dost, thou
errest from the Truth.
45. For nothing can be like the unlike, and onely, and One;
nor may est thou think that he hath given of his Power to any
other thing.
46. For who after him can make anything, either of Life or
Immortality; of Change or of Quality? and himself, what other
things should he make ? •
47. For God is not idle, for then all things would be idle ; for
all things are full of God.
48. But there is not anywhere in the World, such a thing as
Idleness ; for Idleness is a name that implieth a thing void or
empty, both of a Doer, and a thing done.
49. But all things must necessarily be made or done both
always, and according to the nature of every place.
50. For he that maketh or doth, is in all things, yet not fastened
or comprehended in anything ; nor making or doing one thing,
but all things.
51. For being an active or operating Power, and sufficient of
himself, for the things that are made, and the things that are made
are under him.
52. Look upon, through me, the World is subject to thy sight,
and understand exactly the Beauty thereof.
53. A Body perpetual, then the which there is nothing more
ancient, yet always vigorous and young.
54. See also the Seven Worlds set over us, adorned with an
everlasting order, and filling Eternity with a different course.
55. For all things are full of Light, but the Fire is nowhere.
56. For the friendship and commixture of contraries and unlike,
become Light shining from the Act or Operation jof God, the
340 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
Father of all Good, the Prince of all Order, and the Ruler of the
Seven Worlds.
57. Look also upon the Moon, the forerunner of them all, the
Instrument of Nature, and which changeth the matter here below.
58. Behold the Earth the middle of the "Whole, the firm and
stable Foundation of the Fair World, the Feeder and Nurse of
Earthly things.
59. Consider, moreover, how great the multitude is of immor-
tal living things, and of mortal ones also ; and see the Moon going
about in the midst of both, to wit, of things immortal and mortal.
60. But all things are full of Soul, and all things are properly
moved by it ; some things about the Heaven, and some things
about the Earth ; and neither of those on the right hand to the
left ; nor those on the left hand to the right ; nor those things that
are above, downward ; nor those things that are below, upwards.
61. And that all these things are made, O beloved Hermes, thou
needst not learn of me. *
62. For they are Bodies, and have a Soul, and are moved.
63. And that all these should come together into one, it is im-
possible without something to gather them together.
64. Therefore, there must be some such ones, and he altogether
One.
65. For seeing that the motions are divers, and many, and the
Bodies not alike, and yet one ordered swiftness among them all.
It is impossible there should be two or more Makers.
66. For one order is not kept by many.
67. But in the weaker there would be jealousy of the stronger,
and thence also contentions.
68. And if there were one Maker, of mutable mortal living
Wights, he would desire also to make immortal ones, as he that
were the Maker of immortal ones, would do to make mortal.
69. Moreover, also, if there were two, the Matter being one,
who should be chief, or have the disposing of the facture ?
70. Or if both of them, which of them the greater part ?
71. But thinks thus that every living Body hath its consistence
of Matter and Soul ; and of that which is immortal, and that which
is mortal and unreasonable.
72. For all living Bodies have a Soul ; and those things that are
not living, are onely matter by itself.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistm. 341
73. And the Soul likewise of itself drawing near her Maker, is
the cause of Life and Being, and being the cause of Life is, after
a maner, the cause of immortal things.
74. How then are mortal Wights other from immortal?
75. Or how cannot lie make living wights, that causeth immor-
tal things and immortality?
76. That there is some Body that doth these things, it is appar-
ent, and that he is also one, it is most manifest.
77. For there is one Soul, one Life, and one Matter.
78. Who is this? who can it be, other then the One God?
79. For whom else can it benefit, to make living things, save
onely God alone?
80. There is therefore one God.
81. For it is a ridiculous thing to confess the World to be one,
one Sun, one Moon, one Divinity ; and yet to have I know not
how many gods.
82. He therefore being One, doth all things in many things.
83. And what great thing is it for God, to make Life, and Soul,
and Immortality, and Change, when thy self dost so many things.
84. For thou both seest, speakest, and hearest, smellest, tastest,
and touchest, walkest, understandest, and breathest.
85. And it is not one that seeth, and another that heareth, and
another that speaketh, and another that toucheth, and another that
smelleth, and another that walketh, and another that understandeth,
and another that breatheth ; but One that doth all these things.
86. Yet neither can these things possibly be without God.
87. For as thou, if thou shouldst cease from doino- these thino-s,
wert not a living wight ; so if God should cease from those, he
were not (which is not lawful to say) any longer God.
88. For if it be already demonstrated, that nothing can be idle
or empty, how much more may be affirmed of God ?
89. For if there be any thing which he doth not do, then is he
(if it were lawful to say so) imperfect.
90. Whereas seeing he is not idle, but perfect ; certainly he
doth all things.
91. Now give thy self unto me, O Hermes, for a little while,
thou shalt'the more easily understand, that it is the necessary work
of God, that all things should be made or done, that are done, or
were once done or shall be done.
342 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
92. And this, O best Beloved, is life.
93. And this is the Fair.
94. And this is the Good.
95. And this is God.
96. And if thou wilt understand this by work also, mark what
happens to thy self, when thou wilt generate.
97. And yet this is not like unto him ; for he is not sensible of
pleasure, for neither hath he any other Fellow- workman.
98. But being himself the onely Workman, he is always in the
Work, himself being that which he doth or maketh.
99. For all things, if they were separated from him, must needs
fall and die, as there being no life in them.
100. And again, if all tilings be living wights, both which are
in Heaven, and upon Earth; and that there be one Life in all
things which is made by God, and that is God, then certainly all
things are made, or done by God.
101. Life is the union of the Minde, and the Soul.
102. But death is not the destruction of those things that were
gathered together, but a dissolving of the Union.
103. The Image therefore of God, is Eternity, of Eternity the
World, of the World the Sun, of the Sun Man.
104. But the people say, That changing is Death, because the
Body is dissolved, and the Life goeth into that which appeareth not.
105. By this discourse, my dearest Hermes, I affirm as thou
hearest, That the World is changed, because every day part there-
of becomes invisible; but that it is never dissolved.
106. And these are the Passions of the World, Revolutions,
and Occultations, and Revolution is a turning, but Occultation is
Renovation.
107. And the World being all formed, hath not the forms lying
without it, but it self changeth in it self.
108. Seeing then the World is all formed, what must he be that
made it? for without form, he cannot be.
109. And if he be all formed, he will be kept like the World ;
but if he have but one form, he shall be in this regard less then
the World.
110. What do we then say that he is? we will not raise any
doubts by our speech ; for nothing that is doubtful concerning
God, is yet known.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trimtegistus. 343
111. He hath therefore one Idea which is proper to him, which
because it is unbodily, is not subject to the sight, and yet shews
all forms by the Bodies.
112. And do not wonder, if there be an incorruptible Idea.
113. For they are like the Margents of that Speech which is in
writing ; for they seem to be high and swelling, but they are by
nature smooth and even.
114. But understand well this that I say, more boldly, for it is
more true: As a man cannot live without life, so neither can God
live, not doing good.
115. For this is, as it were, the Life and Motion of God, to
move all things, and quicken them.
116. But some of the things I have said, must have a particular
explication : Understand then what I say.
117. All things are in God, not as lying in a place; for Place
is both a Body, and unmoveable, and those things that are there
placed, have no motion.
118. For they lie otherwise in that which is unbodily, then in
the fantasie, or to appearance.
119. Consider him that contains all things, and understand,
that nothing is more capacious, then that which is incorporeal,
nothing more swift, nothing more powerful ; but it is most capa-
cious, most swift, and most strong.
120. And judg of this by thy self, command thy Soul to go into
India, and sooner then thou canst bid it, it will be there.
121. Bid it likewise pass over the Ocean, and suddenly it will
be there: Not as passing from place to place, but suddenly it will
be there.
122. Command it to flie into Heaven, and it will need no
Wings, neither shall any thing hinder it; not the fire of the Sun,
not the Aether, not the turning of the Spheres, not the bodies of
any of the other Stars, but cutting through all, it will flie up to
the last, and furthest Body.
123. And if thou wilt even break the whole, and see those
things that are without the World (if there be any thing without)
thou mayest.
124. Behold how great power, how great swiftness thou hast !
Canst thou do all these things, and cannot God ?
125. After this maner therefore contemplate Ged to have all
344: The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
the whole World to himself, as it were all thoughts, or intellec-
tions.
126. If therefore thou wilt not equal thy self to God, thou canst
not understand God.
127. For the like is intelligible by the like.
128. Increase thy self unto an immeasurable greatness, leaping
beyond every Body, and transcending all Time, become Eternity,
and thou shalt understand God : If thou believe in thys elf, that
nothing is impossible, but accountest thy self immortal, and that
thou canst understand all things, every Art, every Science, and
the maner and custom of every living thing.
129. Become higher then all height, lower then all depths, com-
prehend in thy self the qualities of all the Creatures, of the Fire,
the Water, the Dry, and Moyst ; and conceive likewise that thou
canst at once be every where in the Sea, in the Earth.
130. Thou shalt at once understand thy self, not yet begotten
in the Womb, young, old, to be dead, the things after death, and
all these together; as also, times, places, deeds, qualities, quanti-
ties, or else thou canst not yet understand God.
131. But if thou shut up thy Soul in the Body, and abuse it,
and say, I understand nothing, I can do nothing, I am afraid of
the Sea, I cannot climb up into Heaven, I know not who I am,
I cannot tell what I shall be ; what hast thou to do with God ?
tor thou canst understand none of those Fair and Good things; be
a lover of the Body, and Evil.
132. For it is the greatest evil, not to know God.
133. But to be able to know, and to will, and to hope, is the
straight way, and Divine way, proper to the Good ; and it will
every where meet thee, and every where be seen of thee, plain
and easie, when thou dost not expect or look for it : It will meet
thee, waking, sleeping, sailing, traveling by night, by day, when
thou speakest, and when thou keepest silence.
134. For there is nothing which is not the Image of God.
135. And yet thou sayest, God is invisible, but be advised, for
who is more manifest, then He.
136. For therefore hath he made all things, that thou by all
things mavest see him.
137. This is the Good of God, this is his Vertue, to appear, and
to be seen in all things.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 345
138. There is nothing invisible, no not of those things that are
incorporeal.
139. The Minde is seen in Understanding, and God is seen in
doing or making.
140. Let these things thus far forth, be made manifest unto
thee, O Trismegistus. .
141. Understand in like maner, all other things by thy self, and
thou shalt not be deceived.
(The end of the tenth Booh.)
THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF HERMES TRISMEGISTUS: OF THE
COMMON MINDE TO TAT.
1. The Minde, O Tat, is of the very Essence of God, if yet
there be any Essence of God.
2. What kinde of Essence that is, he alone knows himself ex-
actly.
3. The Minde therefore is not cut off, or divided from the essen-
tiality of God, but united as the light of the Sun.
4. And this Minde in men, is God, and therefore are some men
Divine, and their Humanity is neer Divinity.
5. For the good Demon called the Gods immortal men, and
men mortal Gods.
6. But in the bruit Beasts, or unreasonable living wights, the
Minde is their Nature.
7. For where there is a Soul, there is the Minde ; as where
there is Life, there is also a Soul.
8. In living Creatures therefore, that are without Reason, the
Soul is Life, voyd of the operations of the Minde.
9. For the Minde is the Benefactor of the Souls of men, and
worketh to the proper Good.
10. And in unreasonable things it eo-operateth with the Nature
of every one of them, but in men it worketh against their Natures.
11. For the Soul being in the Body, is straight way made Evil
by Sorrow, and Grief, and Pleasure or Delight.
12. For Grief and Pleasure, flow like Juices from the compound
Body, whereinto, when the Soul entereth, or descendeth, she is
moystened and tincted with them.
13. As many Souls therefore, as the Minde governeth or over-
346 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
ruletb, to them it shews its own Light, resisting their preposses-
sions or presumptions.
14. As a good Physitian grieveth the Body, prepossessed of a
disease, by burning or launcing it for healths sake.
15. After the same maner also, the Minde grieveth the Soul, by
drawing it out of Pleasure, from whence every disease of the Soul
proceedeth.
16. But the great Disease of the Soul is Atheism, because that
opinion followeth to all Evil, and no Good.
17. Therefore the Minde resisting it, procureth Good to the
Soul, as a Physitian health to the Body.
18. But as many Souls of men, as do not admit or entertain the
Minde for their Governor, do suffer the same thing that the Soul
of unreasonable living things.
19. For the Soul being a Co-operator with them, permits
or leaves them to their concupiscences, whereunto they are
carried by the torrent of their Appetite, and so tend to bruit-
ishness.
20. And as bruit Beasts, they are angry without reason, and
they desire without reason, and never cease, nor are satisfied with
evil.
21. For unreasonable Angers and Desires, are the most exceed-
ing Evils.
22. And therefore hath God set the Minde over these, as a
Revenger and Reprover of them.
23. Tat. Here, O Father, that discourse of Fate or Destiny,
which thou madest to me, is in danger to be overthrown : For if
it be fatal for any man to commit Adultery or Sacriledg, or do
any evil, he is punished also, though he of necessity do the work
of Fate or Destiny ?
24. Ilerm. All things, O Son, are the work of Fate, and without
it, can no bodily thing, either Good or Evil be done.
25. For it is decreed by Fate, that he that doth any evil, should
also suffer for it.
26. And therefore he doth it, that he may suffer that which he
suffereth, because he did it.
27. But for the present let alone that speech, concerning Evil
and Fate, for at other times we have spoken of it.
28. Now our discourse is about the Minde, and what it can do,
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 347
and how it differs, and is in men such a one, but in bruit Beasts
changed.
29". And again, in bruit Beasts it is not beneficial, but in men
by quenching both their Anger and Concupiscences.
30. And of men thou must understand, some to be rational or
governed by reason, and some irrational.
31. But all men are subject to Fate, and to Generation, and
Change: for these are the beginning and end of Fate or Des-
tiny.
32. And all men suffer those things that are decreed by Fate.
33. But rational men, over whom, as we said, the Minde bears
rule, do not suffer like unto other men ; but being free from
viciousness, and being not evil, they do suffer evil.
34. Tat. How sayest thou this again Father? An Adulterer,
is he not evil ? a Murtherer, is he not evil ? and so all others.
35. Herm. But the rational man, O Son, will not suffer for
Adultery, but as the Adulterer, nor for Murther, but as the Mur-
therer.
36. And it is impossible to escape the Quality of Change, as of
Generation, but the Viciousness, he that hath the Minde, may
escape.
37. And therefore, O Son, I have always heard the good Demon
say, and if he had delivered it in writing, he had much profited
all mankinde: For he alone, O Son, as the first born, God, seeing
all things, truly spake Divine words. I have heard him say some-
times, That all things are one thing, especially intelligible Bodies,
or that all especially intelligible Bodies are one.
38. We live in Power, in Act, and in Eternity.
39. Therefore a good Minde, is that which the Soul of him is.
40. And it' this be so, then no intelligible thing differs from
intelligible things.
41. As therefore it is possible, that the Minde, the Prince of all
things; so likewise, that the Soul that is of God, can do whatso-
ever it will.
42. But understand thou well, for this Discourse I have made
to the Question which thou askest of me before, I mean concern-
ing Fate and the Minde.
43. First, if, O Son, thou shalt diligently withdraw thy self
from all Contentious speeches, thou shalt finde that in Truth, the
348 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
Minde, the Soul of God bears rule over all things, both over Fate,
and Law, and all other things.
44. And nothing is impossible to him, no not of the things that
are of Fate.
45. Therefore, though the Soul of man be above it, let it not
neglect the things that happen to be under Fate.
46. And these thus far, were the excellent sayings of the good
Demon.
47. Tat. Most divinely spoken, O Father, and truly and profit-
ably, yet clear this one thing unto me.
48. Thou sayest, that in bruit Beasts the Minde worketh or
acteth after the maner of Nature, co-operating also with their
(6p/ia<?, impetus) inclinations.
49. Now the impetuous inclinations of bruit Beasts, as I con-
ceive, are Passions. If therefore the Minde do co-operate with,
these impetuous Inclinations, and that they are the Passions in
bruit Beasts, certainly the Minde is also a Passion, conforming it
self to Passions.
50. Herm. Well done Son, thou askest nobly, and yet it is just
that I should answer thee.
51. All incorporeal things, O Son, that are in the Body, are
passible, nay, they are properly Passions.
52. Every thing that moveth is incorporeal ; every thing that
is moved is a Body ; and it is moved into the Bodies by the
Minde; Now Motion is Passion, and there they both suffer; as
well that which moveth, as that which is moved, as well that
which ruleth, as that which is ruled.
53. But being freed from the Body, it is freed likewise from
Passion.
54. But especially, O Son, there is nothing impassible, but all
things are passible.
55. But Passion differs from that which is passible; for that
(Passion) acteth, but this suffers.
56. Bodies also of themselves do act ; for either they are im-
moveable, or else are moved ; and which soever it be, it is a Pas-
sion.
57. But incorporeal things do always act, or work, and therefore
they are passible.
58. Let not therefore the appellations or names trouble thee,
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 349
for Action and Passion are the same thing, but that it is not griev-
ous to use the more honorable name.
59. Tat. O Father, thou hast delivered this Discourse most
plainly.
60. Herm. Consider this also, O Son, That God hath freely
bestowed upon man, above all other living things, these two,
to wit, Minde and Speech, or Reason, X0709, equal to immor-
tality.
61. These if any man use, or imploy upon what he ought, he
shall differ nothing from the Immortals.
62. Yea rather going out of the Body, he shall be guided and
led by them, both into the Quier and Society of the Gods, and
blessed Ones.
63. Tat. Do not other living Creatures use Speech, O Father (
64. Herm. No, Son, but onely Voyce ; now Speech and Voyce
do differ exceeding much ; for Speech is common to all men, but
Voyce is proper unto every kinde of living thing.
65. Tat. Yea, but the Speech of men is different, O Father ;
every man according to his Nation.
66. Herm. It is true, O Son, they do differ: Yet as man is one,
so is Speech one also; and it is interpreted and found the same,
both in Egypt, Persia, and Greece.
67. But thou seemest unto me, Son, to be ignorant of the Ver-
tue, or Power, and Greatness of Speech.
68. For the blessed God, the good Demon said or commanded
the Soul to be in the Body, the Minde in the Soul (X0709), the
Word, or Speech, or Reason in the Minde, and the Minde in God,
and that God is the Father of them all.
69. Therefore the Word is the Image of the Minde, and the
Minde of God, and the Body of the Idea, and the Idea of the
Soul.
70. Therefore of the Matter, the subtilest or smallest part is
Air, of the Air the Soul, of the Soul the Minde, of the Minde
God.
71. And God is about all things, and through all things, but
the Minde about the Soul, the Soul about the Air, and the Air
about the Matter.
72. But Necessity, and Providence, and Nature, are the Organs
or Instruments of the World, and of the Order of Matter.
350 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
73. For of those things that are intelligible, every one is ; but
the Essence of them is Identity.
74. But of the Bodies of the whole, or universe, every one is
many things.
75. For the Bodies that are put together, and that have, and
make their changes into other, having this Identity, do always
save and preserve the uncorruption of the Identity.
76. But in every one of the compound Bodies, there is a number.
77. For without Number it is impossible there should be con-
sistence or constitution, or composition, or dissolution.
78. But Unities do both beget and increase Numbers, and again
being dissolved, come into themselves.
79. And the Matter is One.
80. But this whole World, the great God, and the Image of
the Greater, and united unto him, and conserving the Order, and
Will of the Father, is the fulness of Life.
81. And there is nothing therein, through all the Eternity of
the Revolutions, neither of the whole, nor of the parts which doth
not live.
82. For there is nothing dead, that either hath been, or is, or
shall be in the World.
83. For the Father would have it as long as it lasts, to be a liv-
ing thing; and therefore it must needs be God also.
84. How therefore, O Son, can there be in God, in the Image
of the Universe, in the fulness oi Life, any dead things ?
85. For dying is corruption, and corruption is destruction.
86. How then can any part of the incorruptible be corrupted,
or of God be destroyed ?
87. Tat. Therefore, O Father, do not the living things in the
AVorld die, though they be parts thereof.
88. Herm. Be wary in thy Speech, O Son, and not deceived in
the names of things.
89. For they do not die, O Son, but as compound Bodies they
are dissolved.
90. But dissolution is not death ; and they are dissolved, not
that they may be destroyed, but that they may be made new.
91. Tat. What then is the operation of Life % Is it not Motion ?
92. Herm. And what is there in the World immoveable?
Nothing at all, O Son.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 351
93. Tat. Why, doth not the Earth seem immoveable to thee, O
Father ?
94. Herm. No, but subject to many motions, though after a
mane'r, it alone he stable.
95. What a ridiculous thing it were, that the Nurse of all
things should be unmoveable, which beareth and bringeth forth
all things ?
96. For it is impossible that any thing that bringeth forth,
should bring forth without Motion.
97. And a ridiculous question it is, Whether the fourth part of
the whole, be idle: For the word immoveable, or without Motion,
signifies nothing else, but idleness.
98. Know generally, O Son, That whatsoever is in the World,
is moved either according to Augmentation or Diminution.
99. But that which is moved, liveth also, yet it is not necessary,
that a living thing should be or continue the same.
100. For while the whole World is together, it is unchangeable,
() Son, but all the parts thereof are changeable.
101. Yet nothing is corrupted or destroyed, and quite abolished,
but the names trouble men.
102. For Generation is not Life, but Sense ; neither is Change
Death, but Forgetfnlness, or rather Occultation, and lying
hid.
[(] Or better thus.
102. For Generation is not a Creation of Life, hut a production
of things to Sense, and making them manifest. Neither is Change
Death, but an occultation or hiding of that which was. [)]
103. These things being so, all things are Immortal, Matter,
Life, Spirit, Soul, Minde, whereof every living thing consisteth.
104. Every living thing therefore, is Immortal, because of the
Minde, but especially Man, who both receiveth God, and con-
verseth with him.
105. For with this living wight alone is God familiar; in the
night by dreams, in the day by Symbols or Signes.
106. And by all things cloth he foretel him of things to come,
by Birds, by Fowls, by the Spirit, or AVind, and by an Oke.
107. Wherefore also Man professeth to know things that have
been, things that are present, and things to come.
108. Consider this also, O Son, That every other living Creature
352 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
goeth upon one part of the World, Swiming things in the Water,
Land wights upon the Earth, Flying Fowls in the Air.
109. But Man useth all these, the Earth, the Water, the Air,
and the Fire, nay, he seeth and toucheth Heaven by his Sense.
110. But God is both about all things, and through all things ;
for he is both Act and Power.
111. And it is no hard thing, O Son, to understand God.
112. And if thou wilt also see him, look upon the Necessity of
things that appear, and the Providence of things that have been,
and are done.
113. See the Matter being most full of Life, and so great a God
moved with all Good, and Fair, both Gods, and Demons, and
Men.
114. Tat. But these, O Father, are wholly Acts, or Operations.
115. Herm. If they be therefore wholly Acts or Operations, O
Son, by whom are they acted or operated, but by God ?
116. Or art thou ignorant, that as the parts of the World, are
Heaven, and Earth, and Water, and Air; after the same maner
the Members of God, are Life, and Immortality, and Eternity,
and Spirit, and Necessity, and Providence, and Nature, and Soul,
and Minde, and the Continuance or Perseverance of all these
which is called Good.
117. And there is not any thing of all that hath been, and all
that is, where God is not.
118. Tat. What, in the Matter, O Father?
119. Herm. The Matter, Son, what is it without God, that thou
shouldst ascribe a proper place to it ?
120. Or what dost thou think it to be ? peradventure some heap
that is not actuated or operated.
121. But if it be actuated, by whom is it actuated? for we have
said, that Acts or Operations, are the parts of God.
122. By whom are all living things quickned? and the Immor-
tal, by whom are they immortalized? the things that are change-
able, by whom are they changed.
123. Whether thou speak of Matter, or Body, or Essence, know
that all these are acts of God.
124. And that the Act of Matter is materiality, and of the
Bodies corporality, and of Essence essentiality ; and this is God the
whole.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 353
125. And in the whole, there is nothing that is not God.
126. Wherefore about God, there is neither Greatness, Place,
Quality, Figure, or Time; for he is All, and the All, through all,
and about all.
127. This Word, O Son, worship and adore. And the onely
service of God, is not to be evil.
{The end of the eleventh Bool'.)
THE TWELFTH BOOK OF HERMES TRISMEGISTUS: HIS
CRATER OR MON~AS.
1. The Workman made this Universal World, not with his
Hands, but his Word.
2. Therefore thus think of him, as present every where, and
being always, and making all things; and one above, that by his
Will hath framed the things that are.
3. For that is his Body, not tangible, nor visible, nor measur-
able, nor extensible, nor like any other body.
4. For it is neither Fire, nor Water, nor Air, nor Wind, but all
these things are of him ; for being Good, he hath dedicated that
name unto himself alone.
5. But he would also adorn the Earth, but with the Ornament
of a Divine Body.
6. And he sent Man an Immortal, and a Mortal Wight.
7. And Man had more then all living Creatures, and the World ;
because of his Speech, and Minde.
8. For Man became the spectator of the Works of God, and
wondered, and acknowledged the Maker.
9. For he divided Speech among all men, but not Minde,
and yet he envied not any ; for Envy comes not thither, but
is of abode here below in the Souls of men, that have not the
Minde.
10. Tat. But wherefore, Father, did not God distribute the
Minde to all men %
11. Herm. Because it pleased him, O Son, to set that in the
middle among all souls, as a reward to strive for.
12. Tat. And where hath he set it?
13. Herm. Filling a large Cup or Bowl therewith, he sent it
down, giving also a Cryer or Proclaimer.
XX— 23
354 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
14. And he commanded him to proclaim these things to the
souls of men :
15. Dip and wash thy self, thou that art able in this Cup
or Bowl; Thou that beleevest that thou shalt return to him that
sent this Cup ; thou that acknowledgest whereunto thou wert
made.
16. As many therefore as understood the Proclamation, and
were baptized or dowsed into the Minde, these were made par-
takers of Knowledg, and became perfect men, receiving the
Minde.
17. But as many as missed of the Proclamation, they received
Speech, but not Minde ; being ignorant whereunto they were
made, or by whom.
18. But their Senses are just like to bruit Beasts, and having
their temper in Anger and Wrath, they do not admire the things
worthy of looking on.
19. But wholly addicted to the pleasures and desires of the
Bodies, they beleeve that man was made for them.
20. But as many as partook of the gift of God ; these, O Tat,
in comparison of their works, are rather immortal then mortal
men.
21. Comprehending all things in their Minde, which are upon
Earth, which are in Heaven, and if there be any thing above
Heaven.
22. And lifting up themselves so high, they see the Good ; and
seeing it, they account it a miserable calamity to make their abode
here.
23. And despising all things bodily and unbodily, they make
hast to the One and Onely.
24. Thus, O Tat, is the Knowledg of the Minde, the beholding
of Divine things, and the Understanding of God, the Cup it self
being Divine.
25. Tat. And I, O Father, would be baptized and drenched
therein.
26. TIerm. Except thou first hate thy body, O Son, thou canst
not love thy self; but loving thy self, thou shalt have the Minde,
and having the Minde, thou shalt also partake the Knowledg or
Science.
27. Tat. How meanest thou that, O Father?
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Irismegistus. 355
28. Herm. Because it is impossible, O Son, to be conversant
about things Mortal and Divine.
29. For the tilings that are, being two Bodies, and things in-
corporeal, wherein is the Mortal and the Divine, the Election or
Choice of either is left to him that will chuse : For no man can
chuse both.
30. And of which soever the choice is made, the other being
diminished or overcome, magnifieth the act and operation of the
other.
31. The choice of the better therefore, is not onely best for him
that chuseth it, by deifying a man ; but it also sheweth Piety and
Religion towards God.
32. But the choice of the worse destroyes a man, but doth noth-
ing against God ; save that as Pomps or Pageants, when they
come abroad, cannot do any thing themselves but hinder; after
the same maner also do these make Pomps or Pageants in the
World, being seduced by the pleasures of the Body.
33. These things being so, O Tat, that things have been, and
are so plenteously ministred to us from God ; let them proceed
also from us, without any scarcity or sparing.
3-4. For God is innocent or guiltless, but we are the causes of
Evil, prefering them before the Good.
35. Thou seest, O Son, how many Bodies we must go beyond,
and how many Quiers of Demons, and what continuity and courses
of Stars, that we may make hast to the One, and onely God.
36. For the Good is not to be transcended, it is unbounded and
infinite; unto it self without beginning, but unto us, seeming to
have a beginning, even our knowledg of it.
37. For our knowledg is not the beginning of it, but shews us
the beginning of its being known unto us.
38. Let us therefore lay hold of the beginning, and we shall
quickly go through all things.
39. It is indeed a difficult thing, to leave those things that are
accustomable, and present, and turn us to those things that are
ancient, and according to the original.
40. For these things that appear, delight us, but make the
things that appear not, hard to beleeve, or the things that appear
not, are hard to heleeve.
41. The things most apparent are Evil, but the Good is secret,
356 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
or hid in, or to the tilings that appear; for it hath neither Form
nor Figure.
42. For this cause it is like to it self, but unlike everv thing
else ; for it is impossible, that any thing incorporeal, should be
made known, or appear to a Body.
43. For this is the difference between the like and the unlike ;
and the unlike wanteth always somewhat of the like.
44. For the Unity, Beginning, and Root of all things, as being
the Root and Beginning.
45. Nothing is without a beginning, but the Beginning is of
nothing, but of it self; for it is the Beginning of all other things.
46. Therefore it is, seeing it is not from another beginning.
47. Unity therefore being the Beginning, containeth ever} r
number; but it self is contained of none, and begetteth every
number, it self being begotten of no other number.
48. Every thing that is begotten (or made) is imperfect, and
may be divided, increased, diminished.
49. But to the perfect, there happeneth none of these.
50. And that which is increased, is increased by Unity, but is
consumed and vanished through weakness, being not able to re-
ceive the Unity.
51. This Image of God, have I described to thee, O Tat, as w T ell
as I could; which if thou do diligently consider, and view by the
eyes of thy minde, and heart, beleeve me, Son, thou shalt linde
the way to the things above, or rather the Image it self will lead
thee.
52. But the spectacle or sight, hath this peculiar and proper:
Them that can see, and behold it, it holds fast and draws unto it,
as they say, the Loadstone doth Iron.
(The end of the twelfth Bool'.)
THE THIRTEENTH BOOK OF HERMES TRISMEGISTUS: OF
SENSE AND UNDERSTANDING.
1. Yesterday, Asclepius, I delivered a perfect Discourse; but
now I think it necessary, in suite of that, to dispute also of
Sense.
2. For Sense and Understanding seem to differ, because the one
is material, the other essential.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 357
3. But unto me, they appear to be both one, or united, and not
divided in men, I mean.
4. For in other living Creatures, Sense is united unto Nature,
but in men to Understanding.
5. But the Minde differs from Understanding, as much as God
from Divinity.
6. For Divinity is (vtto) from or under God, and Understanding
from the Minde, being the sister of the Word or Speech, and they
the Instruments one of another.
7. For neither is the "Word pronounced without Understanding,
neither is Understanding manifested without the Word.
8. Therefore Sense and Understanding do both flow together
into a man, as if they w T ere infolded one within another.
9. For neither is it possible without Sense to Understand, nor
can we have Sense without Understanding-.
10. And yet it is possible {for the time being) that the Under-
standing may understand without Sense, as they that fantasie Vi-
sions in their Dreams.
11. But it seems unto me, that both the operations are in the
Visions of Dreams, and that the Sense is stirred up out of sleep,
unto awaking.
12. For man is divided into a Body and a Soul ; when both
parts of the Sense accord one with another, then is the Under-
standing childed, or brought forth by the Minde pronounced.
13. For the Minde brings forth all Intellections or Understand-
ings : Good ones, when it receiveth good Seed from God ; and
the contrary, when it receives them from Devils.
14. For there is no part of the World voyd of the Devil, which
entering in privately, sowed the seed of his own proper operation ;
and the Minde did make pregnant, or did bring forth that which
was sown, Adulteries, Murthers, Striking of Parents, Sacriledges,
Impieties, Stranglings, throwing down headlong, and all other
things which are the works of evil Demons.
15. And the Seeds of God are few but Great, and Fair, and
Good, Vertue, and Temperance, and Piety.
16. And the Piety is the Knowledg of God, whom whosoever
knoweth being full of all good things, hath Divine Understand-
ing, and not like the Many.
17. And therefore they that have that Knowledg, neither please
358 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
the multitude, nor the multitude them, but they seem to be mad,
and to move laughter, hated and despised, and many times also
murthered.
18. For we have already said, That wickedness must dwell here,
being in her own region.
19. For her region is the Earth, and not the World, as some
will sometimes say, Blaspheming.
20. But the godly or God-worshiping Man laying hold on
Knowledg, will despise or tread under all these things ; for though
they be evil to other men, yet to him all things are good.
21. And upon mature consideration, he refers all things to
Knowledg, and that which is most to be wondred at, he alone
makes evil things good.
22. But I return again to my Discourse of Sense.
23. It is therefore a thing proper to Man, to communicate and
conjoyn Sense and Understanding.
24. But every man, as I said before, doth not enjoy Under-
standing; for one man is material, another essential.
25. And he that is material with wnckedness, as I said, received
from the Devils the Seed of Understanding ; but they that are
with the Good essentially, are saved with God.
26. For God is the Workman of all things; and when he work-
eth, he useth Nature.
27. He maketh all things good like himself.
28. But these things that are made good, are in the use of Op-
eration unlawful.
29. For the Motion of the World stirring up Generations,
makes Qualities ; infecting some w T ith evilness, and purifying some
with good.
30. And the World, Asclepius, hath a peculiar Sense and
Understanding, not like to Mans, nor so various or manifold, but
a better and more simple.
31. For the Sense and Understanding of the World is One, in
that it makes all things, and unmakes them again into it self; for
it is the Organ or Instrument of the Will of God.
32. And it is so organized or framed, and made for an Instru-
ment by God; that receiving all Seeds into it self from God, and
keeping them in it self, it maketh all things effectually, and dis-
solving them, renew r eth all things.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 359
33. And therefore like a good Husband-man of Life, when
things are dissolved or loosened, he affords by the casting of Seed,
renovation to all things that grow.
34. There is nothing that it (the World) doth not beget or bring
forth alive; and by its Motion, it makes all things alive.
35. And it is at once, both the Place and the Workman of Life.
36. But the Bodies are from the Matter, in a different maner;
for some are of the Earth, some of Water, some of Air, some of
Fire, and all are compounded, but some are more compounded,
and some are more simple.
37. They that are compounded, are the heavier, and they that
are less, are the higher.
38. And the swiftness of the Motion of the World, makes the
varieties of the Qualities of Generation ; for the spiration or influ-
ence, being most frequent, extendeth unto the Bodies qualities,
with one fulness, which is of Life.
39. Therefore, God is the Father of the World, but the World
is the Father of things in the World.
40. And the World is the Son of God, but things in the World
are the Sons of the World.
41. And therefore it is well called /coo-pos, the World, that is an
Ornament, because it adorneth and beautifieth all things with the
variety of Generation, and indeficiency of Life, which the un-
weariedness of Operation, and the swiftness of Necessity, with the
mingling of Elements, and the order of things done.
42. Therefore it is necessarily, and properly called /eocryuo?, the
World.
43. For of all living things, both the Sense, and the Under-
standing, cometh into them from without, inspired by that which
compasseth them about, and continueth them.
44. And the World receiving it once from God as soon as it
was made, hath it still, what ever it once had.
45. But God is not as it seems to some who Blaspheme through
superstition, without Sense, and without Minde, or Understand-
ing.
46. For all things that are, O Asclepius, are in God, and made
by him, and depend of him, some working by Bodies, some mov-
ing by a Soul-like Essence, some quickning by a Spirit, and some
receiving the things that are weary, and all very fitly?
360 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
47. Or rather, I say, that he hath them not, but I declare the
Truth ; lie is all things, not receiving them from without, but ex-
hibiting them outwardly.
48. And this is the Sense and Understanding of God, to move
all things always.
49. And there shall never be any time, when any of those things
that are, shall fail or be wanting.
50. When I say the things that are, I mean God ; for the things
that are, God hath ; and neither is there any thing without him,
nor he without any thing.
51. These things, O Asclepius, will appear to be true, if thou
understand them ; but if thou understand them not, incredible.
52. For to understand, is to beleeve ; but not to beleeve, is not
to understand : For my speech or words reach not unto the Truth,
but the Minde is great, and being led or conducted for a while by
Speech, is able to attain to the Truth.
53. And understanding all things round about, and finding
them consonant, and agreeable to those things that were delivered,
and interrupted by Speech, beleeveth ; and in that good belief,
resteth.
54. To them therefore that understand the things that have
been said of God, they are credible ; but to them that understand
them not, incredible.
55. And let these, and thus many things, be spoken concerning
Understanding and Sense.
{The end of the thirteenth Book.)
THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF HERMES TRISMEOISTUS : OF
OPERATION AND SENSE.
1. Tat. Thou hast well explained these things, Father : Teach
me furthermore these things ; for thou sayest, that Science and
Art were the Operations of the rational, but now thou sayest, that
Beasts are unreasonable, and for want of reason, both are, and are
called Bruits ; so that by this Reason, it must needs follow, that
unreasonable Creatures partake not of Science, or Art, because
thev come short of Reason.
2. Hemi. It must needs be so Son.
3. Tat. Why then, O Father, do we see some unreasonable liv-
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 361
ing Creatures use both Science and Art ? as the Pismires treasure
up for themselves food against the Winter, and Fowls of the Air
likewise make them Nests, and four-footed Beasts know their
own Dens.
4. These things they do, O Son, not by Science or Art, but by
Nature ; for Science and Art are things that are taught, but none
of these bruit Beasts are taught any of these things.
5. But these things being Natural unto them, are wrought by
Nature, whereas Art and Science do not happen unto all, but unto
some.
6. As men are Musitians. but not all : neither are all Archers,
or Huntsmen, or the rest, but some of them have learned some-
thing by the working of Science or Art.
7. After the same maner also, if some Pismires did so, and
some not, thou mightest well say, they gather their Food accord-
ing to Science and Art.
8. But being they are all led by Nature, to the same thing, even
against their wills, it is manifest they do not do it by Science or
Art.
9. For Operations, O Tat, being unbodily, are in Bodies, and
work by Bodies.
10. Wherefore, O Tat, in as much as they are unbodily, thou
must needs say the} 7 are immortal.
11. But in as much as they cannot act without Bodies, I say,,
they are always in a Body.
12. For those things that are to any thing, or for the cause of
any thing made subject to Providence or Necessity, cannot possi-
bly remain idle of their own proper Operation.
13. For that which is, shall ever be ; for both the Body, and
the Life of it, is the same.
14. And by this reason, it follows, that the Bodies also are
always, because I affirm That this corporiety is always by the
Act and Operation, or for them.
15. For although earthly bodies be subject to dissolution ; yet
these bodies must be the Places, and the Organs, and Instruments
of Acts or Operations.
16. But Acts or Operations are immortal, and that which is
immortal, is always in Act, and therefore also Corporijieation if
it be always.
362 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
17. Acts or Operations do follow the Soul, yet come not
suddenly or promiscuously ; but some of them come together
with being made man, being about bruitish or unreasonable
things.
18. But the purer Operations do insensibly in the change of
time, work with the oblique part of the Soul.
19. And these Operations depend upon Bodies ; and truly they
that are Corj?orifying, come from the Divine Bodies into Mortal
ones.
20. But every one of them acteth both about the Body and the
Soul, and are present with the Soul, even without the Body.
21. And they are always Acts or Operations, but the Soul is
not always in a Mortal Body, for it can be without a Body, but
Acts or Operations cannot be without Bodies.
22. This is a sacred speech, Son, The Body cannot consist with-
out a Soul.
23. Tat. How meanest thou that, Father ?
24. Herm. Understand it thus, O Tat, When the Soul is sepa-
rated from the Body, there remaineth that same Body.
25. And this same Body according to the time of its abode, is
actuated or operated in that it is dissolved, and becomes invisible.
26. And these things the Body cannot suffer without act or
operation, and consequently there remaineth with the Body the
same act or operation.
27. This then is the difference between an Immortal Body, and
a Mortal one, that the immortal one consists of one Mater, and
so doth not the mortal one; and the immortal one doth, but this
suffereth.
28. And every thing that acteth or operateth, is stronger, and
ruleth, but that which is actuated or operated, is ruled.
29. And that which ruleth, directeth, and governeth as free,
but the other is ruled a servant.
30. Acts or Operations do not onely actuate or operate, living
or breathing, or insouled (efityvxa) Bodies, but also breathless
Bodies or without Souls, Wood, and Stones, and such like encreas-
ing and bearing fruit, ripening, corrupting, rotting, putrifying,
and breaking, or working such-like things, and whatsoever inani-
mate Bodies can suffer.
31. Act or Operation, O Son, is called, whatsoever is, or is
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 363
made or done ; and there are always many things made, or rather
all things.
32.. For the World is never widowed or forsaken of any of those
things that are ; but being alway carried or moved in it self, it is
in labor to bring forth the things that are, which shall never be
left by it to corruption.
33. Let therefore every act or operation be understood to be
always immortal, in what maner of Body soever it be.
34. But some Acts or Operations be of Divine, some of cor-
ruptible Bodies, some universal, some peculiar, and some of the
generals, and some of the parts of every thing.
35. Divine Acts or Operations therefore there be, and such as
work or operate upon their proper Bodies, and these also are per-
fect, and being upon or in perfect Bodies.
36. Particular, are they which work by any of the living Crea-
tures.
37. Proper, be they that work upon any of the things that
are.
38. By this Discourse therefore, O Son, it is gathered that all
things are full of Acts or Operations.
39. For if necessarily they be in every Body, and that there
be many Bodies in the World, I may very well affirm, that there
be many other Acts or Operations.
40. For many times in one Body, there is one, and a second,
and a third, besides these universal ones that follow.
41. And universal Operations, I call them that are indeed
bodily, and are done by the Senses and Motions.
42. For without these it is impossible that the Body should con-
sist.
43. But other Operations are proper to the Souls of Men, by
Arts, Sciences, Studies, and Actions.
44. The Senses also follow these Operations, or rather are the
effects or perfections (a.7roT€\ecr/j,aTa) of them.
45. Understand therefore, O Son, the difference of Operations,
it is sent from above.
46. But Sense being in the Body, and having its essence from
it, when it receiveth Act or Operation, manifesteth it, making it
as it were corporeal.
47. Therefore, I say, that the Senses are both corp'oreal and
364 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
mortal, having so much existence as the Body, for they are born
with the Body, and die with it.
48. But mortal things themselves have not Sense, as not con-
sisting of such an Essence.
49. For Sense can be no other then a corporeal apprehension T
either of evil or good that comes to the Body.
50. But to Eternal Bodies there is nothing comes, nothing de-
parts ; therefore there is no Sense in them.
51. Tat. Doth the Sense therefore perceive or apprehend in
every Body ?
52. Herm. In every Body, O Son.
53. Tat. And do the Acts or Operations work in all things \
54. Herm. Even in things inanimate, O Son, but there are dif-
ferences of Senses.
55. For the Senses of things rational, are with Reason ; of things
unreasonable, Corporeal onely ; but the Senses of things inani-
mate, are passive onely, according to Augmentation and Diminu-
tion.
56. But Passion and Sense depend both upon one head, or
height, and are gathered together into the same, by Acts or Op-
erations.
57. But in living wights there be two other Operations that
follow the Senses and Passions, to wit, Grief and Pleasure.
58. And without these, it is impossible that a living wight,
especially a reasonable one should perceive or apprehend.
59. And therefore, I say, that these are the Ideas of Passions
that bear rule, especially in reasonable living wights.
60. The Operations work indeed, but the Senses do declare and
manifest the Operations, and they being bodily, are moved by the
bruitish parts of the Soul ; therefore, I say, they are both male-
ficial or doers of evil.
61. For that which affords the Sense to rejoyce with Pleasure,
is straightway the cause of many evils happening to him that suf-
fers it.
62. But Sorrow gives stronger torments and Anguish, therefore
doubtless are they both maleficial.
63. The same may be said of the Sense of the Soul.
64. Tat. Is not the Soul incorporeal, and the Sense a Body,
Father? or is it rather in the Body?
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 365
65. Herm. If we put it in a Body, Son, we shall make it like
the Soul or the Operations. For these being unbodily, M T e say are
in Bodies.
66. But Sense is neither Operation, nor Soul, nor any thing else
that belongs to the Body ; but as we have said, and therefore it is
not incorporeal.
67. And if it be not incorporeal it must needs be a Body ; for
we always say, that of things that are, some are Bodies, and some
incorporeal.
(The end of the fourteenth Booh.)
THE FIFTEENTH BOOK OF HERMES TRISMEGISTUS: OF
TRUTH TO HIS SON TAT
1. Herm. Of Truth, O Tat, it is not possible that man being
an imperfect wight, compounded of imperfect Members, and hav-
ing his Tabernacle, consisting of different and many Bodies, should
speak with any confidence.
2. But as far as it is possible, and just, I say, That Truth is
onely in the Eternal Bodies, whose very Bodies be also true.
3. The Fire is fire it self onely, and nothing else ; the Earth is
earth it self, and nothing else ; the Air is air it self, and nothing
else ; the Water, water it self, and nothing else.
4. But our Bodies consist of all these ; for they have of the Fire,
they have of the Earth, they have of the Water, and Air, and yet
there is neither Fire, nor Earth, nor Water, nor Air, nor any thing
true.
5. And if at the beginning, our Constitution had not Truth,
how could men either see the Truth, or speak it, or understand it
onely, except God would ?
6. All things therefore upon Earth, O Tat, are not Truth, but
imitations of the Truth ; and yet not all things neither, for they
are but few that are so.
1. But the other things are Falshood, and Deceit, O Tat, and
Opinions like the Images of the fantasie or appearance.
8. And when the fantasie hath an influence from above, then
it is an imitation of Truth, but without that operation from above,
it is left a lye.
9. And as an Image shews the Body described, and* yet is not
366 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
the Body of that which is seen, as it seems to be ; and it is seen
to have eyes, but it sees nothing, and ears, but hears nothing at
all ; and all other things hath the picture, but they are false, de-
ceiving the eyes of the beholder, whilest they think they see the
Truth, and yet they are indeed but lies.
10. As many therefore as see not Falshood, see the Truth.
11. If therefore we do so understand, and see every one of these
things as it is, then we see and understand true things.
12. But if we see or understand any thing besides, or otherwise,
then that which is, we shall neither understand, nor know the
Truth.
13. Tal. Is Truth therefore upon Earth, O Father?
14. Herm. Thou doth not miss the mark, O Son. Truth in-
deed is no where at all upon Earth, O Tat, for it cannot be gen-
erated, or made.
15. But concerning the Truth, it may be that some men, to
whom God will give the good seeing Power, may understand it.
16. So that unto the Minde and Keason, there is nothing true
indeed upon Earth.
17. But unto the true Minde and Eeason, all things are fanta-
sies or appearances, and opinions.
18. Tat. Must we not therefore call it Truth, to understand and
speak the things that are ?
19. Herm. But there is nothing true upon Earth.
20. Tat. How then is this true, That we do not know any thing
true \ how can that be done here ?
21. Herm. O Son, Truth is the most perfect Vertue, and the
highest Good it self, not troubled by Matter, not encompassed by
a Body, naked, clear, unchangeable, venerable, unalterable Good.
22. But the things that are here, O Son, are visible, incapable
of Good, corruptible, passible, dissolveable, changeable, continu-
ally altered, and made of another.
23. The things therefore that are not true to themselves ; how
can they be true ?
24. For every thing that is altered, is a lie, not abiding in what
it is ; but being changed it shews us always, other, and other ap-
pearances.
25. Tat. Is not man true, O Father ?
26. Herm. As far forth as he is a Man, he is not true, Son ; for
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 367
that which is true, hath of it self alone its constitution, and re-
mains, and abides according to it self, such as it is.
27. But man consists of many things, and doth not abide of
himself; but is turned and changed, age after age, Idea after Idea,
or form after form ; and this while he is yet in the Tabernacle.
28. And many have not known their own children after a little
while ; and many children likewise have not known their own
Parents.
29. Is it then possible, O Tat, that he who is so changed, is not
to be known, should be true? no, on the contrary, he is Falshood,
being in many Appearances of changes.
30. But do thou understand the True to be that which abides
the same, and is Eternal, but man is not ever, therefore not True ;
but man is a certain Appearance, and Appearance is the highest
Lie or Falshood.
31. Tat. But these eternal Bodies, Father, are they not true
though they be changed ?
32. Herm. Every thing that is begotten, or made, and changed,
is not true ; but being made by our Progenitor, they might have
had true Matter.
33. But these also have in themselves, something that is false,
in regard of their change.
34. For nothing that remains not in it self, is True.
35. Tat. What shall one say then, Father, that onely the Sun,
which besides the Nature of other things, is not changed, but
abides in it self, is Truth f
36. Herm. It is Truth, and therefore is he onely intrusted with
the Workmanship of the World, ruling and making all things,
whom I do both honor, and adore his Truth; and after the One,
and First, I acknowledg him the Workman.
37. Tat. What therefore doth thou affirm to be the first Truth,
O Father ?
38. Herm. The One and Onely, O Tat, that is not of Matter,
that is not in a Body, that is without Colour, without Figure or
Shape, Immutable, Unalterable, which always is ; but Falshood,
O Son, is corrupted.
39. And corruption hath laid hold upon all things on Earth,
and the Providence of the True encompasseth, and will encom-
pass them.
368 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
40. For without corruption, there can no Generation consist.
41. For Corruption followeth every Generation, that it may
agrain be venerated.
42. For those things that are generated, must of necessity be
generated of those things that are corrupted, and the things gen-
erated must needs be corrupted, that the Generation of things
being, may not stand still or cease.
43. Acknowledg therefore the tirst Workman by the Genera-
tion of things.
44. Consequently the things that are generated of Corruption,
are false, as being sometimes one thing, sometimes another: For
it is impossible, they should be made the same things again ; and
that which is not the same, how is it true ?
45. Therefore, O Son, we must call these things fantasies or
appearances.
46. And if we will give a man his right name, we must call
him the appearance of Manhood ; and a Childe, the fantasie or
appearance of a Childe; an old man, the appearance of an old
man ; a young man, the appearance of a young man ; and a man
of ripe age, the appearance of a man of ripe age.
47. For neither is a man, a man ; nor a childe, a childe ; nor a
young man, a young man ; nor an old man, an old man.
48. But the things that preexist, and that are, being changed,
are false.
49. These things understand thus, O Son, as these false Opera-
tions, having their dependance from above, even of the Truth it
self.
50. Which being so, I do affirm, that Falshood is the Work of
Truth.
{The end of the fifteenth Book.)
THE SIXTEENTH BOOK OF HERMES TRISMEOISTUS : THAT
NONE OF THE THINGS THAT ARE, CAN PERISH.
1. Herm. We must now speak of the Soul and Body, O Son;
after what maner the Soul is Immortal ; and what operation that
is, which constitutes the Body, and dissolves it.
2. But in none of these is Death, for it is a conception of a name,
which is either an empty word, or else it is wrongly called Death,
The Dh'ine Pymander of Hermes Trismegistus. 369
(davaros) by the taking away the first letter, instead of Immor-
tal (dQdvaTos).
3. For Death is destruction, but there is nothing in the whole
World that is destroyed.
4. For if the World be a second God, and an Immortal living
Wight, it is impossible that any part of an Immortal living Wight
should die.
5. But all things that are in the World, are members of the
World, especially Man, the reasonable living Wight.
6. For the first of all is God, the Eternal, and Unmade, and
the Workman of all things.
7. The second is the World, made by him, after his own Image,
and by him holden together, and nourished, and immortalized ;
and as from its own Father, ever living.
8. So that as Immortal, it is ever living, and ever immortal.
9. For that which is ever living, differs from that which is
eternal.
10. For the Eternal was not begotten, or made by another;
and if it were begotten or made, vet it was made by itself, not by
anv other, but it is always made.
11. For the Eternal, as it is Eternal, is the Universe.
12. For the Father himself, is Eternal of himself; but the
World was made by the Father, ever living, and immortal.
13. And as much Mater as there was laid up by him, the Father
made it all into a Body, and swelling it, made it round like a
Sphere; endued it with Quality, being it self immortal, and hav-
ing Eternal Materiality.
14. The Father being full of Ideas, sowed Qualities in the
Sphere, and shut them up, as in a Circle, deliberating to beautifie
with every Quality that which should afterwards be made.
15. Then cloathing the Universal Body with Immortality, lest
the Matter, if it would depart from this Composition, should be
dissolved into its own disorder.
16. For when the Matter was incorporeal, O Son, it was dis-
ordered, and it hath here the same confusion daily revolved about
other little things, endued with Qualities, in point of Augmenta-
tion, and Diminution, which men call Death ; being indeed a dis-
order happening about earthly living wights.
IT. For the Bodies of Heavenlv things, have one order, which
XX— 21
370 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
they have received from the Father at the Beginning, and is by
the instauration of each of them, kept indissolveable.
18. But the installation of earthly Bodies, is their consistence;
and their dissolution restores them into indissoluble, that is, Im-
mortal.
19. And so there is made a privation of Sense, but not a de-
struction of Bodies.
20. Now the third living wight is Man, made after the Image
of the World ; and having by the Will of the Father, a Minde
above other earthly wights.
21. And he hath not onely a sympathy with the second God,
but also an understanding of the first.
22. For the second God, he apprehends as a Body ; but the
first, he understands as Incorporeal, and the Minde of the Good.
23. Tat. And doth not this living wight perish ?
24. Ilerm. Speak advisedly, O Son, and learn what God is,
what the World, what an Immortal Wight, and what a dissolve-
able One is.
25. And understand that the World is of God, and in God but
Man of the World, and in the World.
26. The Beginning, and End, and Consistence of all, is God.
{The end of the sixteenth Book.)
THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK OF HERMES TRISMEGISTUS: TO
ASCLEPIUS, TO BE TRULY WISE.
1. Because my Son Tat in thy absence, would needs learn the
Nature of the things that are : He would not suffer me to give
over (as coming very young to the knowledg of every individual)
till I Was forced to discourse to him many things at large, that
his contemplation might from point to point, be more easie and
successful.
2. But to thee, I have thought good to write in few words,
chusing out the principal heads of the things then spoken, and to
interpret them more mystically, because thou hast both more
yeers and more knowledg of Nature.
3. All things that appear, were made, and are made.
4. Those things that are made, are not made by themselves,
but by another.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trimnegistus. 371
5. And there are many things made, but especially all things
that appear, and which are different, and not like.
6. 'If the things that be made and done, be made and done by
another, there must be one that must make, and do them ; and
he unmade, and more ancient then the things that are made.
7. For I affirm the things that are made, to be made by an-
other; and it is impossible, that of the things that are made, any
should be more ancient then all, but onely that which is not made.
8. He is stronger, and One, and onely knowing all things in-
deed, as not having any thing more ancient then himself.
9. For he bears rule, both over multitude, and greatness, and
the diversity of the things that are made, and the continuity of
the Facture, and of the Operation.
10. Moreover, the things that are made, are visible, but he is
invisible ; and for this cause, he maketh them, that he may be
visible; and therefore he makes them always.
11. Thus it is fit to understand, and understanding to admire,
and admiring to think thy self happy, that knowest thy natural
Father.
12. For what is sweeter then a natural Father?
13. Who therefore is this, or how shall we know him ?
14. Or is it just to ascribe unto him alone, the Title and Appel-
lation of God, or of the Maker, or of the Father, or all Three?
That of God, because of his Power; the Maker, because of his
Working and Operation ; and the Father, because of his Good-
ness?
15. For Power is different from the things that are made, but
Act or Operation, in that all things are made.
16. Wherefore, letting go all much and vain talking, we must
understand these two things, That which is made, and him which
is the Maker / for there is nothing in the middle, between these
Two, nor is there any third.
17. Therefore understanding All things, remember these Two ;
and think that these are All things, puting nothing into doubt ;
neither of the things above, nor of the things below ; neither of
things changeable, nor things that are in darkness or secret.
18. For All things, are but Two things, That which maketh,
and that which is made • and the One of them cannot depart, or
be divided from the other.
372 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
19. For neither is it possible, that the Maker should be without
the thing made, for either of them is the self-same thing; there-
fore cannot the One of them be separated from the other, no more
then a thing can be separated from it self.
20. For if he that makes be nothing else, but that which makes
alone, simple, tcnconipounded, it is of necessity, that he makes the
same thing to himself, to whom it is the Generation of him that
maketh to be also All that is made.
21. For that which is generated or made, must necessarily be
generated or made by another, but without the Maker that which
is made, neither is made, nor is ; for the one of them without the
other, hath lost his proper Nature by the privation of the other.
22. So if these Two be confessed, That which maketh, and that
which is made, then they are One in Union, this going before,
and that following.
23. And that which goeth before, is God the Maker ; and that
which follows, is that which is made, be it what it will.
24. And let no man be afraid, because of the variety of things
that are made or done, lest he should cast an aspersion of baseness,
or infamy upon God ; for it is the onely Glory of him to do, or
make All things.
25. And this making, or facture, is as it were the Body of God ;
and to him that maketh, or doth, there is nothing evil, or filthy
to be imputed, or there is nothing thought evil, or filthy.
26. For these are Passions that follow Generation, as Rust doth
Copper, or as Excrements do the Body.
27. But neither did the Coppersmith make the Rust, nor the
Maker the Filth, nor God the Evilness.
28. But the vicissitude of Generation doth make them, as it
were to blossom out ; and for this cause did make Change to be,
as one should say, The Purgation of Generation.
29. Moreover, is it lawful for the same Painter to make both
Heaven, and the Gods, and the Earth, and the Sea, and Men, and
bruite Beasts, and inanimate Things, and Trees; and is it impossi-
ble for God to make these things? O the great madness, and ig-
norance of men in things that concern God !
30. For men that think so, suffer that which is most ridiculous
of all; for professing to bless, and praise God, yet in not ascribing
to him the making or doing of All things, they know him not.
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Trismeglstus. 373
31. And besides their not knowing him, they are extreamly
impious against him, attributing unto him Passions, as Pride, or
Oversight, or Weakness, or Ignorance, or Envy.
32. For if he do not make, or do all things, he is either proud,
or not able, or ignorant, or envious, which is impious to affirm.
33. For God hath onely one Passion, namely, Good ; and he
that is good, is neither proud, nor impotent, nor the rest, but God
is Good it self.
34. For Good is all Power, to do or make all things, and every
thing that is made, is made by God ; that is, by the Good, and
that can make, or do all things.
35. See then how he maketh all things, and how the things are
done, that are done; and if thou wilt learn, thou may est see an
Image thereof, very beautiful, and like.
36. Look upon the Husbandman, how he casteth Seeds into
the Earth, here Wheat, there Barly, and elsewhere some other
Seeds.
37. Look upon the same Man, planting a vine, or an apple tree,
or a fig tree or some other tree.
38. So doth God in Heaven sowe Immortality, in the Earth
Change in the whole Life and Motion.
39. And these things are not many, but few and easily nu in-
bred; for they are all but four, God and Generation, in which
are all things.
{The end of the seventeenth Book.)
FINIS .
THE TITLES OF EVERY BOOK OF HERMES TRISMEGISTUS.
LIBER FOLIO
1. His first Book 227
2. Poeinander 232
3. The holy Sermon 240
4. The Key 242
5. That God is not manifest, and yet most manifest ...... 250
6. That in God alone is good 253
7. The secret Sermon in the Mount, of Regeneration, and the Profession of
Silence . .256
8. That the greatest evil in Man, is, the not knowing God ..... 263
9. A Universal Sermon to Asclepius . 264
10. The Minde to Hermes 337
374
The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
LIBER
11. Of the common minde to Tat
12. Hermes Trismegistus, his Crater or Monas
13. Of Sense and Understanding .
14. Of Operation and Sense.
15. Of Truth to his son Tat.
16. That none of the things that are, can perish
17. To Asclepius, to be truly wise
FOLIO
. 345
. 353
. 356
. 360
. 365
. 368
. 370
Note by the Editor. — The earliest mention of this work is by Clemens Alexandrinus,
in the second century, a. d. (Stromata, VI, where forty-two of the works of Hermes
Trismegistus are mentioned). The Pymander [Pimander or Poimander] has been at-
tributed to Apuleius of Medaura in Numidia, who lived in the time of Clement, but
zealous disciples assert for it a fabulous antiquity, as one may see from the preface to
the work (reprinted at the beginning). Critics find it to be no earlier than the second
century. Its allusions to gnostic and neo-Platonist speculations, and its implication of
Christian doctrines, make an earlier date impossible. Ficinus translated it into Latin in
1471, dividing it into fourteen books. The present translation bears internal evidence
of being printed from the manuscript of Dr. Everard after his death, and without care-
ful editing. Sometimes the translator's marginal notes appear to have crept into the
text, and more than once the second and revised version of a passage is printed after
the first without a sufficient explanation (see Book XI, paragraph 102, for an example
of this). The book has been recently reprinted in London (1884) — "Two hundred
copies published (only for subscribers), and all rights secured by Robert H. Fryar,
Bath." It is reprinted like the one here given, from the edition of 1650, and, although
some of the spelling is modernized, most of the typographical errors of the first edition
are preserved, while many new ones are added. For an example of the more serious of
these new errata, take the following: Book XI, 80, " concerning " for " conserving " ;
XII, 30, " or " for "and"; 32, " worst " for "worse," "or" for "and"; 51, "hear"
for "heart"; XIII, 5, "a" for "as"; 25, "eared" for "saved"; 29, "infesting"
for " infecting " ; 38, " inf ulness " for " one fulness " ; XIV, 50, " external " for " eter-
nal." The Greek quotations are also frequently misprinted. — W. T. H.
THE PERCEPTION OF TIME.
" Qu'on ne cherche point la duree dans la succession ; on ne l'y trou-
vera jamais ; la duree a precede la succession ; la notion de la duree a
preced e la notion de la succession. Elle en est done tout-a-fait inde-
pendante, dira-t-on ? Oui, elle en est tout-a-fait independante."
ROYER-COLLARD.
If the constitution of consciousness were that of a string of
bead-like sensations and images, all separate, " we never could
The Perception of Time. 375
have any knowledge except that of the present instant. The mo-
ment each of our sensations ceased it would he gone forever ; and
we should be as if we had never been. . . . We should be wholly
incapable of acquiring experience. . . . Even if our ideas were
associated in trains, but only as the} r are in imagination, we should
still be without the capacity of acquiring knowledge. One idea,
upon this supposition, would follow another. But that would be
all. Each of our successive states of consciousness, the moment it
ceased, would be gone forever. Each of those momentary states
would be our whole being." '
We might, nevertheless, under these circumstances, act in a
rational way, provided the mechanism which produced our trains
of images produced them in a rational order. We should make
appropriate speeches, though unaware of any word except the one
just on our lips; we should decide upon the right policy without
ever a glimpse of the total grounds of our choice. Our conscious-
ness would be like a glow-worm spark, illuminating the point it
immediately covered, but leaving all beyond in total darkness.
Whether a very highly developed practical life be possible under
such conditions as these is more than doubtful ; it is, however,
conceivable.
I make the fanciful hypothesis merely to set off our real nature
by the contrast. Our feelings are not thus contracted, and our
consciousness never shrinks to the dimensions of a glow-worm
spark. The knowledge of some other part of the stream, past or
future, near or remote, is always mixed in with our knowledge of
the present thing.
A simple sensation is a pure fiction, and all our experienced
states of mind are representations of objects with some amount of
complexity. Part of the complexity is the echo of the objects just
past, and, in a less degree, perhaps, the foretaste of those just to
arrive. Objects fade out of consciousness slowly. If the present
thought isof ABCDEFG, the next one will be of B C D E
F G H, and the one after that of C D E F G H I — the lingering
of the past dropping successively away, and the incomings of the
future making up the loss. These lingerings of old objects, these
incomings of new, are the germs of memory and expectation, the
1 James Mill, "Analysis," vol. i, p. 319 (J. S. Mill's Edition).
376 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
retrospective and the prospective sense of time. They give that
continuity to consciousness, without which it could not be called
a stream. 1
1 " What I find, when I look at consciousness at all, is, that what I cannot divest my-
self of, or not have in consciousness, if I have consciousness at all, is a sequence of dif-
ferent feelings. . . . The simultaneous perception of both sub-feelings, whether as parts
of a coexistence or of a sequence, is the total feeling — the minimum of consciousness —
and this minimum has duration. . . . Time-duration, however, is inseparable from the
minimum, notwithstanding that, in an isolated moment, we could not tell which part of
it came first, which last. . . . W T e do not require to know that the sub-feelings come in
sequence, first one, then the other ; nor to know what coming in sequence means. But
we have, in any artificially isolated minimum of consciousness, the rudiments of the per-
ception of former and latter in time, in the sub-feeling that grows fainter, and the sub-
feeling that grows stronger, and the change between them. . . .
" In the next place, I remark that the rudiments of memory are involved in the mini-
mum of consciousness. The first beginnings of it appear in that minimum, just as the
first beginnings of perception do. As each member of the change or difference which
goes to compose that minimum is the rudiment of a single perception, so the priority of
one member to the other, although both are given to consciousness in one empirical
present moment, is the rudiment of memory. The fact that the minimum of conscious-
ness is difference or change in feelings, is the ultimate explanation of memory as well as
of single perceptions. A former and a latter are included in the minimum of conscious-
ness ; and this is what is meant by saying that all consciousness is in the form of time,
or that time is the form of feeling, the form of sensibility. Crudely and popularly we
divide the course of time into past, present, and future ; but, strictly speaking, there is
no present ; it is composed of past and future divided by an indivisible point or instant.
That instant, or time-point, is the strict present. What we call, loosely, the present, is
an empirical portion of the course of time, containing at least the minimum of conscious-
ness, in which the instant of change is the present time-point. ... If we take this as
the present time-point, it is clear that the minimum of feeling contains two portions — a
sub-feeling that goes and a sub-feeling that comes. One is remembered, the other im-
agined. The limits of both are indefinite at beginning and end of the minimum, and
ready to melt into other minima, proceeding from other stimuli.
" Time and consciousness do not come to us ready marked out into minima ; we have
to do that by reflection, asking ourselves, What is the least empirical moment of con-
sciousness ? That least empirical moment is what we usually call the present moment ;
and even this is too minute for ordinary use ; the present moment is often extended
practically to a few seconds, or even minutes, beyond which we specify what length of
time we mean, as the present hour, or day, or year, or century.
" But this popular way of thinking imposes itself on great numbers even of philo-
sophically-minded people, and they talk about the present as if it was a datum — as if
time came to us marked into present periods like a measuring-tape." (S. H. Hodgson :
" Philosophy of Reflection," vol. i, pp. 248-254.)
" The representation of time agrees with that of space in that a certain amount of it
must be presented together— included between its initial and terminal limit. A continu-
ous ideation, flowing from one point to another, would indeed occupy time, but not
represent it, for it would exchange one element of succession for another instead of
The Perception of Time. 377
Let any one try, I will not say, to arrest, but to notice or attend
to, the present moment of time. One of the most baffling experi-
ences occurs. Where is it, this present? It has melted in our
grasp, fled ere we could touch it, gone in the instant of becoming.
As a poet, quoted by Mr. Hodgson, says,
" Le moment oil je parle est deja loin de moi,"
and it is only as entering into the living and moving organization
of a much wider tract of time that the strict present is appre-
hended at all. It is, in fact, an altogether ideal abstraction, not
only never realized in sense, but probably never even conceived of
by those unaccustomed to philosophic meditation. Reflection
leads us to the conclusion that it must exist, but that it does exist
can never be a fact of our immediate experience. The only fact
of our immediate experience is what Mr. E. R. Clay has well
called " the specious present." His words deserve to be quoted
in full : '
u The relation of experience to time has not been profoundly
studied. Its objects are given as being of the present, but the
part of time referred to by the datum is a very different thing
from the conterminous of the past and future which philosophy
1 " The Alternative," p. 167.
grasping the whole succession at once. Both points — the beginning and the end — are
equally essential to the conception of time, and must be present with equal clearness
together." (Herbart : " Psychol, als W.," § 115.)
" Assume that . . . similar pendulum-strokes follow each other at regular intervals
in a consciousness otherwise void. When the first one is over, an image of it remains
in the fancy until the second succeeds. This, then, reproduces the first by virtue of the
law of association by similarity, but at the same time meets with the aforesaid persisting
image. . . . Thus does the simple repetition of the sound provide all the elements of
time-perception. The first sound [as it is recalled by association] gives the beginning,
the second the end, and the persistent image in the fancy represents the length of the
interval. At the moment of the second impression, the entire time-perception exists at
once, for then all its elements are presented together, the second sound and the image in
the fancy immediately, and the first impression by reproduction. But, in the same act,
we are aware of a state in which only the first sound existed, and of another in which
only its image existed in the fancy. Such a consciousness as this is that of time. . . .
In it no succession of ideas takes place." (Wundt : "Physiol. Psych.," 1st ed., p. 681-2.)
Note here the assumption that the persistence and the reproduction of an impression are
two processes which may go on simultaneously. Also that Wundt's description is
merely an attempt to analyze the " deliverance " of a time-perception, and no explanation
of the manner in which it comes about.
378 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
denotes by the name Present. The present to which the datum
refers is really a part of the past — a recent past — delusively
given as being a time that intervenes between the past and the
future. Let it be named the specious present, and let the past,
that is given as being the past, be known as the obvious past.
All the notes of a bar of a song seem to the listener to be con-
tained in the present. All the changes of place of a meteor seem
to the beholder to be contained in the present. At the instant of
the termination of such series, no part of the time measured by
them seems to be a past. Time, then, considered relatively to
human apprehension, consists of four parts, viz., the obvious past,
the specious present, the real present, and the future. Omitting
the specious present, it consists of three .... nonentities — the
past, which does not exist, the future, which does not exist, and
their conterminous, the present ; the faculty from which it pro-
ceeds lies to us in the fiction of the specious present."
In short, the practically cognized present is no knife-edge, but
a saddle-back, with a certain breadth of its own on which we sit
perched, and from which we look in two directions into time.
The unit of composition of our perception of time is a duration,
with a bow and a stern, as it were — a rearward- and a forward-
looking end. 1 It is only as parts of this duration-block that the
relation of succession of one end to the other is perceived. We
do not first feel one end and then feel the other after it, and from
the perception of the succession infer an interval of time between,
but we seem to feel the interval of time as a whole, with its two
ends embedded in it. The experience is from the outset a syn-
thetic datum, not a simple one ; and to sensible perception its ele-
ments are inseparable, although attention looking back may
1 Locke, in his dim way, derived the sense of duration from reflection on the succes-
sion of our ideas ("Essay," Book II, Chap. XIV, § 3; Chap. XV, § 12). Reid justly
remarks that if ten successive elements are to make duration, " then one must make
duration, otherwise duration must be made up of parts that have no duration, which is
impossible. ... I conclude, therefore, that there must be duration in every single inter-
val or element of which the whole duration is made up. Nothing, indeed, is more certain
than that every elementary part of duration must have duration, as every elementary
part of extension must have extension. Now, it must be observed that in these ele
ments of duration, or single intervals of successive ideas, there is no succession of ideas,
yet we must conceive them to have duration ; whence we may conclude with certainty
that there is a conception of duration where there is no succession of ideas in the mind."
(" Intellectual Powers," Essay III, Chap. V.)
The Perception of Time. 379
easily decompose the experience, and distinguish its beginning
from its end.
When we study the perception of Space, we find it quite analo-
gous to time in this regard. 1 Date in time corresponds to position
in space ; and although we now mentally construct large spaces
by mentally imagining remoter and remoter positions, just as we
now construct great durations by mentally prolonging a series of
successive dates, yet the original experience of both space and time
is always of something already given as a unit, inside of which
attention afterward discriminates parts in relation to each other.
Without the parts already given as in a time and in a space, sub-
sequent discrimination of them could hardly do more than perceive
them as different from each other ; it would have no motive for
calling the difference time-succession in this instance and spatial
position in that.
And just as in certain expei-iences we may be conscious of an
extensive space full of objects, without locating each of them dis-
tinctly therein, so when many impressions follow in excessively
rapid succession in time, although we may be distinctly aware that
they occupy some duration, and are not simultaneous, we may be
quite at a loss to tell which comes first and which last ; or we
may even invert their real order in our judgment. In complicated
reaction-time experiments, where signals and motions, and clicks
of the apparatus come in exceedingly rapid order, one is at first
much perplexed in deciding what the order is, yet of the fact of
its occupancy of time we are never in doubt.
We must now proceed to an account of the facts of time-per-
ception in detail as preliminary to our speculative conclusion.
Many of the facts are matters of patient experimentation, others
of common experience.
First of all, we note a marked difference between the elementary
sensations of duration and those of space. The former have a
much narrower range ; the time-sense may be called a myopic or-
gan, in comparison with the eye, for example. The eye sees rods,
acres, even miles, at a single glance, and these totals it can after-
ward subdivide into an almost infinite number of distinctly identi-
1 Cf . an essay, entitled "The Spatial Quale," in this Journal for Jan,,, 1879 (vol.
xiii, p. 64).
380 The Journal of Speculative Philosoph y :
fied parts. The units of duration, on the other hand, which the
time-sense is able to take in at a single stroke, are groups of a few
seconds, and within these units very few subdivisions — perhaps
forty at most, as we shall presently see — can be clearly discerned.
The durations we have practically most to deal with — minutes,
hours, and days — have to be symbolically conceived, and con-
structed by mental addition, alter the fashion of those extensions
of hundreds of miles and upward, which in the field of space are
beyond the range of most men's practical interests altogether. To
" realize " a quarter of a mile we need only look out of the window
and feel its length by an act which, though it may in part result
from organized associations, yet seems immediately performed. To
realize an hour, we must count "now ! — now ! — now ! — now! — "
indefinitely. Each " now " is the feeling of a separate bit of time,
and the exact sum of the bits never makes a very clear impression
on our mind.
How many bits can we clearly apprehend at once? Yery few
if they are long bits, more if they are extremely short, most if
they come to us in compound groups, each including smaller bits
of its own.
Hearing is the sense by which the subdivision of durations is
most sharply made. Almost all the experimental work on the
time-sense has been done by means of strokes of sound. How
long a series of sounds, then, can we group in the mind so as not
to confound it with a longer or a shorter series %
Our spontaneous tendency is to break up any monotonously
given series of sounds into some sort of a rhythm. We involun-
tarily accentuate every second, or third, or fourth beat, or we
break the series in still more intricate ways. Whenever we thus
grasp the impressions in rhythmic form, we can identify a longer
string of them without confusion.
Each variety of verse, for example, has its " law " ; and the re-
current stresses and sinkings make us feel with peculiar readiness
the lack of a syllable or the presence of one too much. Divers
verses may again be bound together in the form of a stanza, and
we may then say of another stanza, " Its second verse differs by
so much from that of the first stanza," when but for the felt stanza-
form the two differing verses would have come to us too separately
to be compared at all. But these superposed systems of rhythm
The Perception of Time. 381
soon reach their limit. In music, as Wundt says, 1 " while the
measure may easily contain 12 changes of intensity of sound (as
in -i^- time), the rhythmical group may embrace 6 measures, and
the period consist of 4, exceptionally of 5 (8 ?) groups."
Wundt and his pupil Dietze have both tried to determine ex-
perimentally the maximal extent of our immediate distinct con-
sciousness for successive impressions.
Wundt found 2 that 12 impressions could be distinguished clearly
as a united cluster, provided they were caught in a certain rhythm
by the mind, and succeeded each other at intervals not smaller
than 0*3 and not larger than 0*5 of a second. This makes
the total time distinctly apprehended to be equal to from 3*6 to
6 seconds.
Dietze 3 gives larger figures. The most favorable intervals for
clearly catching the strokes were when they came at from 0*3 sec-
ond to 0*18 second apart. Forty strokes might then be remem-
bered as a whole, and identified without error when repeated,
provided the mind grasped them in 5 sub-groups of 8, or in 8 sub-
groups of 5 strokes each. When no grouping of the strokes beyond
making couples of them by the attention was allowed — and prac-
tically it was found impossible not to group them in at least this
simplest of all ways — 16 was the largest number that could be
clearly apprehended as a whole. 4 This would make 40 times
0*3 second, or 12 seconds, to be the maximum filled duration of
which we can be both distinctly and immediately aware.
The maximum unfilled, or vacant duration, seems to lie within
the same objective range. Estel and Mehner, also working in
Wundt's laboratory, found it to vary from 5 or G to 12 seconds,
and perhaps more. The differences seemed due to practice rather
than to idiosyncrasy. 5
1 "Physiol. Psych.," ii, 54, 55. 2 "Physiol. Psych.," ii, 213.
3 " Philosophische Studien," ii, 362.
4 Counting was of course not permitted. It would have given a symbolic concept and
no intuitive or immediate perception of the totality of the series. With counting we may
of course compare together series of any length — series whose beginnings have faded from
our mind, and of whose totality we retain no sensible impression at all. To count a se-
ries of clicks is an altogether different thing from merely perceiving them as discontinu-
ous. In the latter case we need only be conscious of the bits of empty duration between
them ; in the former we must perform rapid acts of association between them and as
many names of numbers.
5 Estel in Wundt's "Philosophische Studien," ii, 50. Mehner, ibid., ii, 571. In
382 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
These figures may be roughly taken to stand for the most im-
portant part of what, with Mr. Clay, we called, a few pages back,
the specious present. The specious present has, in addition, a
vaguely vanishing backward and forward fringe; but its nucleus
is probably the dozen seconds or less that have just elapsed.
If these are the maximum, what, then, is the minimum amount
of duration which we can distinctly feel?
The smallest figure experimentally ascertained was by Exner,
who distinctly heard the doubleness of two successive clicks of a
Savart's wheel, and of two successive snaps of an electric spark,
when their interval was made as small as about jfa of a second. 1
With the eye, perception is less delicate. Two sparks, made to
fall beside each other in rapid succession on the centre of the
retina, ceased to be recognized as successive by Exner when their
interval fell below 0"-044. a
Where, as here, the succeeding impressions are only 2 in num-
ber, we can easiest perceive the interval between them. Prof. G.
S. Hall, who experimented with a modified Savart's wheel, which
gave clicks in varying number and at varying intervals, says : 3 " In
Dietze's experiments even numbers of strokes were better caught than odd ones, by
the ear. The rapidity of their sequence had a great influence on the result. At more
than 4 seconds apart it was impossible to perceive series of them as units in all (Cf.
Wundt, "Physiol. Psych.," ii, 214). They were simply counted as so many individual
strokes. Below 0'2 1 to CHI second, according to the observer, judgment again be-
came confused. It was found thai the rate of succession most favorable for grasping
long series was when the strokes were sounded at intervals of from " - 3 to 0"'18 apart.
Series of 4, 6, 8, 16 were more easily identified than series of 10, 12, 14, 18. The
latter could hardly be clearly grasped at all. Among odd numbers, 3, 5, 7 were the
series easiest caught; next, 9, 15 ; hardest of all, 11 and 13 ; and 11 was impossible to
apprehend.
1 The exact interval of the sparks was 0"-00205. The doubleness of their snap was
usually replaced by a single-seeming sound when it fell to 0""00198, the sound becoming
louder when the sparks seemed simultaneous. The difference between these two inter-
vals is only tttoWo °f a second ; and, as Exner remarks, our ear and brain must be won-
derfully efficient organs to get distinct feelings from so slight an objective difference as
this. See Pfluger's Archiv., Bd. XI.
2 Ibid., p. 407. When the sparks fell so close together that their irradiation circles
overlapped, they appeared like one. spark moving from the position of the first to that of
the second; and they might then follow each other as close as 0"-015 without the direc-
tion of the movement ceasing to be clear. When one spark fell on the centre, the other
on the margin, of the retina, the time-interval for successive apprehension had to be
raised to O"-076.
3 Hall and Jastrow : " Studies of Rhythm," " Mind," vol. xi, p. 58.
The Perception of Time. 383
order that their discontinuity may be clearly perceived, 4 or even
3 clicks or beats must be farther apart than 2 need to be. When
2 are easily distinguished, 3 or 4 separated by the same interval
. . . are often confidently pronounced to be 2 or 3, respectively.
It would be well if observations were so directed as to ascertain,
at least up to ten or twenty, the increase [of interval] required by
each additional click in a series for the sense of discontinuity to
remain constant throughout." '
Where the first impression falls on one sense, and the second on
another, the perception of the intervening time tends to be less
certain and delicate, and it makes a difference which impression
comes first. Thus, Exner found 3 the smallest perceptible interval
to be, in seconds :
From sight to touch. 0*071
•»'
From touch to sight 0-05
.-
From sight to hearing 0*16
From hearing to sight 0*06
From one ear to another 0*064
To be conscious of a time-interval at all is one thing; to tell
whether it be shorter or longer than another interval is a different
thing. A number of experimental data are on hand which give
us a measure of the delicacy of this latter perception. The prob-
lem is that of the smallest difference we can perceive hetween two
times.
The difference is at its minimum when the times themselves are
1 Nevertheless, multitudinous impressions may be felt as discontinuous, though sepa-
rated by excessively minute intervals of time. Griinhagen says (Pfliiger's " Arch.," vi, p.
175) that 10,000 electric shocks a second are felt as interrupted, by the tongue (!). Von
Wittich {ibid., ii, 329), that between 1,000 and 2,000 strokes a second are felt as discrete
by the finger. W. Preyer, on the other hand (" Die Grenzen des Empfindungsvermo-
gens," etc, 1868, p. 15), makes contacts appear continuous to the finger when 36"8 of
them follow in a second. Similarly, Mach (" Wiener Sitzgsb," li, 2, 142) gives about
36. Sulanne (" Cornptes. Rendus," Ixxxii, p. 1314) found summation of finger contacts
after 22 repetitions in a second. Such discrepant figures are of doubtful worth. On
the retina 20 to 30 impressions a second at the very utmost can be felt as discrete when
they fall on the same spot. The ear, which begins to fuse stimuli together into a musi-
cal tone when they follow at the rate of a little over 30 a second, can still feel 132 of
them a second as discontinuous when they take the shape of " beats " (Helmholtz,
" Tonempfindungen," 3d ed., p. 2*70).
2 Pfliiger's "Archiv," xi, 428. Also in Hermann's " Hdbh. d. Physiol.," 2 Bd., i
Thl., pp. 260-262.
384 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
very short. Exner, 1 reacting as rapidly as possible with his foot,
upon a signal seen by the eye (spark), noted all the reactions which
seemed to him either slow or fast in the making;. He thought
thus that deviations of about j^ of a second either way from the
average were correctly noticed bv him at the time. The average
was here 0"*1840. Hall and Jastrow listened to the intervals be-
tween the clicks of their apparatus. Between two such equal
intervals of 4**27 each, a middle interval was included, which
might be made either shorter or longer than the extremes. "After
the series had been heard two or even three times, no impression
of the relative length of the middle interval would often exist, and
only after hearing the fourth and last [repetition of the series]
would the judgment incline to the plus or minus side. Inserting
the variable between two invariable and like intervals greatly
facilitated judgment, which between two unlike terras is far less
accurate."* Three observers in these experiments made no error
when the middle interval varied -^ from the extremes. When it
varied -j-^, errors occurred, but were few. This would make the
minimum absolute difference perceived as large as 0"'355.
This minimum absolute difference, of course, increases as the
times compared grow long. Attempts have been made to ascer-
tain what ratio it bears to the times themselves. According to
Feclmer's " Psychophysic Law " it ought always to bear the same
ratio. Various observers, however, have found this not to be the
case. 3 On the contrary, very interesting oscillations in the accu-
1 Pfliiger's " Archiv," vii, 639. Tigerstedt (" Bihang till Kongl. Fvenska Vetenskaps-
Akad. Handl.," Bd. 8, Hafte 2, Stockholm, 1884) revises Exner's figures, and shows that
his conclusions are exaggerated. According to Tigerstedt, two observers almost always
rightly appreciated 0" - 05 or 0" - 06 of reaction-time difference. Half the time they did
it rightly when the difference sank to 0" - 03, though from O"-03 and 0""06 differences
were often not noticed at all. Buccola found (" Le Leggc del Tempo nei Fenomeni del
Pensiero," Milano, 1883, p. 371) that, after much practice in making rapid reactions upon
a signal, he estimated directly, in figures, his own reaction-time, in 10 experiments, with
an error of from 0"-010 to 0"-018 ; in 6, with one of 0"-005 to 0"-009 ; in one, with one of
0"-002; and in 3, with one of 0"'003.
2 "Mind," xi, 61 (1886).
3 Mach, " Wiener Sitzungsb.," li, 2, 133 (1865); Estel, he. eit., p. 65 ; Mehner, he. tit.,
p. 586 ; Buccola, op. tit., p. 378. Fechner labors to prove that his law is only overlaid
by other interfering laws in the figures recorded by these experimenters ; but his case
seems to me to be one of desperate infatuation with a hobby. (See Wundt's " Philoso-
phische Studien," iii, 1.)
The Perception of Time. 385
racy of judgment and in the direction of the error — oscillations
dependent upon the absolute amount of the times compared — have
been noticed by all who have experimented with the question.
Of these a brief account may be given.
In the first place, in every list of intervals experimented with
there will be found what Vierordt calls an " indifference-point,"
that is to say, an interval which we judge with maximum accu-
racy, a time which we tend to estimate as neither longer nor
shorter than it really is, and away from which, in both directions,
errors increase their size. 1 This time varies from one observer to
another, but its average is remarkably constant, as the following
table shows. 2
The times, noted by the ear, and the average indifference-points
(given in seconds) were, for —
Wundt 3 0-72
Kollert 4 0-75
Estel (probably) 0'75
Mehner 071
Stevens 5 0*71
Mach • 0-35
Buccola (about) 7 040
1 Curious discrepancies exist between the German and American observers with re-
spect to the direction of the error below and above the point of indifference — differences
perhaps due to the fatigue involved in the American method. The Germans all length-
ened intervals below it and shortened those above. With 1 Americans experimented
on by Stevens this was. exactly reversed. The German method was to passively listen
to the intervals, then judge ; the American was to reproduce them actively by move-
ments of the hand. In Mehner's experiments there was found a second indifference-
point at about 5 seconds, beyond which times were judged again too long.
2 With Vierordt and his pupils the indifference-point lay as high as from 1-5 sec. to
4-9 sec, according to the observer (Cf. " Der Zeitsinn," 1868, p. 112). In most of these
experiments the time heard was actively reproduced, after a short pause, by movements
of the hand, which were recorded. Wundt gives good reasons (" Physiol. Psych.," ii,
289, 290) for rejecting Vierordt's figures as erroneous. Vierordt's book, it should be
said, is full of important matter, nevertheless.
3 " Physiol. Psych.," ii, 286, 290.
4 " Philosophische Studien," i, 86.
5 " Mind," xi, 400.
6 Loc. cit., p. 144.
7 Op. tit., p. 376. Mach's and Buccola's figures, it will be observed, are about one
half of the rest — sub-multiples, therefore. It ought to be observed, however, that Buc-
cola's figure has little value, his observations not being well fitted to show -this particu-
lar point.
XX— 25
386 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
The remarkable thing about these figures is the recurrence they
show in so many men of about three fourths of a second, as the
interval of time most easy to catch and reproduce. More remark-
able still, both Estel and Mehner found that multiples of this time
were more accurately reproduced than the time-intervals of inter-
mediary length. 1 There would seem thus to exist something like
a periodic or rhythmic sharpening of our time-sense. What can the
explanation of such a phenomenon be ? We can better turn to
this question after going through the rest of our facts.
Our sense of time, like other senses, seems subject to the law of
contrast. It appeared pretty plainly in Estel's observations that an
interval sounded shorter if a long one had immediately preceded
it, and longer when the opposite was the case.
Like other senses, too, our sense of time is sharpened by practice.
Mehner, in the interesting paper we have quoted, ascribes almost
all the discrepancies between other observers and himself to this
cause alone. 2
Tracts of time filled (with clicks of sound) seem longer than
vacant ones of the same duration, when the latter does not exceed
a second or two. 3 This, which reminds one of what happens with
spaces seen by the eye, becomes reversed when longer times are
taken. It is, perhaps, in accordance with this law that a loud
sound, limiting a short interval of time, makes it appear longer, a
slight sound shorter. In comparing intervals marked out by
sounds, we must take care to keep the sounds uniform. 4
There is a certain emotional feeli/ng accompanying the intervals
of time, as is well known in music. The sense of haste goes with
one measure of rapidity, that of delay with another ; and these
two feelings harmonize with different mental moods. Vierordt
listened to series of strokes performed by a metronome at rates
varying from 40 to 200 a minute, and found that they very nat-
urally fell into seven categories, from " very slow " to " very
1 Estel's figures led him to think that all the multiples enjoyed this privilege; with
Mehner, on the other hand, only the odd multiples showed diminution of the average
error; thus, 0-71, 2-15, 3-55, 5, 64, 7"8, 9'3, and 10 - 65 seconds were respectively regis-
tered with the least error. Cf. " Phil. Studien," ii, pp. 57, 562-565.
2 Cf. especially pp. 558-561.
3 Wundt, "Physiol. Psych.," ii, 287. Hall and Jastrow, "Mind," xi, 62.
4 Mehner, loc. cit., p. 553.
The Perception of Time. 387
fast." 1 Each category of feeling included the intervals follow-
ing- each other within a certain range of speed, and no others.
This is a qualitative, not a quantitative judgment — an aesthetic
judgment, in fact. The middle category, of speed that was neu-
tral, or, as he calls it, " adequate," contained intervals that were
grouped about 0*62 second, and Vierordt says that this made what
one might almost call an agreeable time. 2
The feeling of time and accent in music, of rhythm, is quite
independent of that of melody. Tunes with marked rhythm can
be readily recognized when simply drummed on the table with the
finger-tips.
Although subdividing the time by beats of sensation aids our
accurate knowledge of the amount of it that elapses, such subdivis-
ion does not seem at the first glance essential to our perception of
its flow. Let one sit with closed eyes and, abstracting entirely
from the outer world, attend exclusively to the passage of time,
like one who wakes, as the poet says, " to hear the time flowing
in the middle of the night, and all things moving to a day of
doom." There seems under such circumstances as these no vari-
ety in the material content of our thought, and what we notice
appears, if anything, to be the pure series of durations budding,
as it were, and growing beneath our indrawn gaze. Is this really
so or not ? The question is important, for, if the experience be
what it roughly seems, we have a sort of special sense for pure
time — a sense to which empty duration is an adequate stimu-
lus ; while if it be an illusion, it must be that our perception of
time's flight, in the experiences quoted, is clue to the filling of the
time, and to our memory of a content which it had a moment
previous, and which we feel to agree or disagree with its content
now.
It takes but a small exertion of introspection to show that the
latter alternative is the true one, and that we can no more intuit
a duration than we can intuit an extension, devoid of all sensible
content. Just as with closed eyes we perceive a dark visual field
in which a curdling play of obscurest luminosity is always going
1 The number of distinguishable differences of speed between these limits is, as he
takes care to remark, very much larger than 7. "Der Zeitsinn," p. 137.
2 P. 19, § 18, p. 112.
388 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
on ; so, be we never so abstracted from distinct outward impres-
sions, we are always inwardly immersed in what Wundt has some-
where called the twilight of our general consciousness. Our heart-
beats, our breathing, the pulses of our attention, fragments of
words or sentences that pass through our imagination, are what
people this dim habitat. Now, all these processes are rhythmical,
and are apprehended by us, as they occur, in their totality; the
breathing and pulses of attention, as coherent successions, each with
its rise and fall ; the heart-beats similarly, only relatively far more
brief ; the words not separately, but in connected groups. In short,
empty our minds as we may, some form of changing process re-
mains for us to feel, and cannot be expelled. And along with the
sense of the process and its rhythm, goes the sense of the length
of time it lasts. Awareness of change is thus the condition on
which our perception of time's flow depends ; but there exists no
reason to suppose that empty time's own changes are sufficient for
the awareness of change to be aroused. The change must be of
some concrete sort — an outward or inward sensible series, or a
process of attention or volition.
And here again we have an analogy with space. The earliest
form of distinct space-perception is undoubtedly that of a move-
ment over some one of our sensitive surfaces, and this movement
is originally given as a simple whole of feeling, and is only de-
composed into its elements — successive positions successively occu-
pied by the moving body — when our education in discrimination
is much advanced. But a movement is a change, a process; so we
see that in the time-world and the space-world alike the first known
things are not elements, but combinations, not separate units, but
wholes already formed. The condition of being of the wholes may
be the elements ; but the condition of our knowing the elements
is our having already felt the wholes as wholes.
In the experience of watching empty time flow — " empty " to
be taken hereafter in the relative sense just set forth — we tell it
off in pulses. We say " now ! now ! now ! " or we count " more !
more! more!" as we feel it bud. This composition out of units
of duration is called the law of time's discrete flow. The discrete-
ness is, however, merely due to the fact that our successive acts of
recognition or apperception of what it is are discrete. The sensa-
tion is as continuous as any sensation can be. All continuous sen-
The Perception of Time. 389
sations are named in beats. We notice that a certain finite
" more " of them is passing or already past. To adopt Hodgson's
image, the sensation is the measuring tape, the perception the
dividing-engine which stamps its length. As wo listen to a steady
sound, we take it in in discrete pulses of recognition, calling it
successively " the same ! the same ! the same ! " The case stands
no otherwise with time.
After a small number of beats, our impression of the amount
we have told off becomes quite vague. Our only way of knowing
it accurately is by counting, or noticing the clock, or through
some other symbolic conception. ' AVhen the times exceed hours,
or days, the conception is absolutely symbolic. We think of the
amount we mean either solely as a name, or by running over a few
salient dates therein, with no pretence of imagining the full dura-
tions that lie between them. No one has anything like a percep-
tion of the greater length of the time between now and the first
century than of that between now and the tenth. To an historian,
it is true, the later interval will suggest a host of additional dates
and events, and so appear a more multitudinous thing. And for
the same reason most people will think they directly perceive the
length of the past fortnight to exceed that of the past week. But
there is properly no comparative time intuition in these cases at
all. It is but dates and events, representing time; their abun-
dance symbolizing its length. I am sure that this is so, even where
the times compared are no more than an hour or so in length. It
is the same with Spaces of many miles, which we always compare
with each other by the numbers which measure them. 2
1 "Any one wishing yet further examples of this mental substitution will find one on
observing how habitually he thinks of the spaces on the clock-face instead of the periods
they stand for ; how, on discovering it to be half an hour later than he supposed, he
does not represent the half hour in its duration, but scarcely passes beyond the sign of
it marked by the finger." (H. Spencer : " Psychology," § 336.)
2 The only objections to this which I can think of are: (1) The accuracy with which
some men judge of the hour of day or night without looking at the clock ; (2) the
faculty some have of waking at a preappointed hour ; (3) the accuracy of time-percep-
tion reported to exist in certain trance-subjects. It might seem that in these persons
some sort of a subconscious record was kept of the lapse of time per se. But this can-
not be admitted until it is proved that there are no physiological processes, the feeling
of whose course may serve as a sign of how much time has sped, and so lead us to infer
the hour. That there are such processes it is hardly possible to doubt. An ingenious
friend of mine was long puzzled to know why each day of the week had such a charac-
390 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
From this we pass naturally to speak of certain familiar varia-
tions in our estimation of lengths of time. In general, a time filled
with varied and interesting experiences, objects which rivet atten-
tion, vivid feelings, etc., seems short in passing, but long as we
look back. On the other hand, a tract of time empty of expe-
riences, seems long in passing, but in retrospect short. A week
of travel and sight-seeing may subtend an angle more like three
weeks in the memory ; and a month of sickness hardly yields more
memories than a day. The length in retrospect depends obviously
on the multitudinousness of the memories which the time affords.
Many objects, events, changes, many subdivisions, immediately
widen the view as we lookback. Emptiness, monotony, familiar-
ity, make it shrivel up. In Von Holtei's "Vagabonds" one An-
ton is described as revisiting his native village. " Seven years,"
he exclaims, "seven years since I ran away ! More like seventy it
seems, so much has happened. I cannot think of it all without
becoming dizzy — at any rate not now. And yet again, when I
look at the village, at the church-tower, it seems as if I could
hardly have been seven days away."
Prof. Lazarus 1 thus explains both of these contrasted illusions
by our principle of the awakened memories being multitudi-
nous or few. " The circle of experiences, widely extended, rich in
variety, which he had. in view on the day of his leaving the village
rises now in his mind as its image lies before him. And with it—
in rapid succession and violent motion, not in chronologic order,
or from chronologic motives, but suggesting each other by all
sorts of connections — arise massive images of all his rich vaga-
bondage and roving life. They roll and wave confusedly together,
first perhaps one from the first year, then from the sixth, soon from
the second, again from the fifth, the first, etc., until it seems as if
teristic physiognomy to him. That of Sunday was soon noticed to be due to the cessa-
tion of the city's rumbling, and the sound of people's feet shuffling on the sidewalk ; of
Monday, to come from the clothes drying in the yard and casting a white reflection on
the ceiling; of Tuesday, to a cause which I forget; and I think my friend did not get
beyond Wednesday. Probably each hour in the day has for most of us some outer or
inner sign associated with it as closely as these signs with the days of the week. It
must be admitted, after all, however, that the great improvement of the time-perception
during sleep and trance is a mystery not as yet cleared up. Idiots, too, are said some-
times to possess this faculty in a marked degree.
1 " Ideale Fragen," 1878, p. 219 (Essay, " Zeit und Weile").
The Perception of Time. 391
seventy years must have been there, and he reels with the fulness
of his vision. . . . Then the inner eye turns away from all this
past. The outer one turns to the village, especially to the church-
tower. The sight of it calls back the old sight of it, so that the
consciousness is filled with that alone, or almost alone. The one
vision compares itself with the other, and looks so near, so un-
changed, that it seems as if only a week of time could have come
between."
The same space of time seems shorter as we grow older — that
is, the days, the months, and the years do so ; whether the hours
do so is doubtful, and the minutes and seconds to all appearance
remain about the same. " Whoever counts many lustra in his
memory need only question himself to find that the last of these,
the past five years, have sped much more quickly than the preced-
ing periods of equal amount. Let any one remember his last
eight or ten school years : it is the space of a century. Compare
with them the last eight or ten years of life: it is the space of an
hour." So writes Prof. Janet, 1 and gives a solution which can
hardly be said to diminish the mystery. There is a law, he
says, by which the apparent length of a time-interval at a given
epoch of a man's life is proportional to the total length of the life
itself. A child of 10 feels a year asj 1 ^ of his whole life — a man
of 50 as -gig, the whole life meanwhile apparently preserving a
constant length. This formula roughly expresses the phenomena,
it is true, but cannot possibly be an elementary psychic law; and
it is certain that, in great part at least, the foreshortening of the
years as we grow older is due to the monotony of memory's con-
tent, and the consequent simplification of the backward-glancing
view. In youth we may have an absolutely new experience, subject-
ive or objective, every hour of the day. Apprehension is vivid, re-
tentiveuess strong, and our recollections of that time, like those of
a time spent in rapid and interesting travel, are of something intri-
cate, multitudinous and long-drawn out. But as each passing year
converts some of this experience into automatic routine which we
hardly note at all, the days and the weeks smooth themselves out
in recollection to merecontentless units, and the years grow hollow
and collapse.
1 " Revue Philosophique," vol. iii, p. 496.
392 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
So much for the apparent shortening of tracts of time in retro-
spect. They shorten in passing whenever we are so fully occu-
pied with their content as not to note the actual time itself. A
day full of excitement, with no pause, is said to pass " ere we
know it.' 1 On the contrary, a day full of waiting, of unsatisfied
desire for change, will seem a small eternity. Tcedium, ennui,
Langweile, boredom, are words for which, probably, every language
known to man has its equivalent. It comes about whenever,
from the relative emptiness of content of a tract of time, we
grow attentive to the passage of the time itself. Expecting,
and being ready for, a new impression to succeed ; when it
fails to come, we get an empty time instead of it ; and such
experiences, ceaselessly renewed, make us most formidably aware
of the extent of the mere time itself. 1 Close your eyes and
simply wait to hear somebody tell you that a minute has
elapsed. The full length of your leisure with it seems incredible.
You engulf yourself into its bowels as into those of that intermi-
nable first week of an ocean voyage, and find yourself wondering
that history can have overcome many such periods in its course.
All because you attend so closely to the mere feeling of the time
per se, and because your attention to that is susceptible of such
fine-grained successive subdivision. The odiousness of the whole
experience comes from its insipidity ; for stimulation is the in-
dispensable requisite for pleasure in an experience, and the feeling
of bare time is the least stimulating experience we can have. 2
1 ''Empty time is most strongly perceived when it comes as a pause in music or in
speech. Suppose a preacher in the pulpit, a professor at his desk, to stick still in the
midst of his discourse ; or let a composer (as is sometimes purposely done) make all his
instruments stop at once ; we await every instant the resumption of the performance,
and, in this awaiting, perceive, more than in any other possible way, the empty time. To
^hange the example, let, in a piece of polyphonic music — a figure, for instance, in which
a tangle of melodies are under way — suddenly a single voice be heard, which sustains a
long note, while all else is hushed. . . . This one note will appear very protracted —
why ? Because we expect to hear accompanying it the notes of the other instruments,
but they fail to come." (Herbart : " Psychol, als W.," § 115.)
2 A night of pain will seem terribly long ; we keep looking forward to a moment
which never comes — the moment when it shall cease. But the odiousness of this ex-
perience is not named ennui or Langweile, like the odiousness of time that seems long
from its emptiness. The more positive odiousness of the pain, rather, is what tinges
our memorv of the night. What we feel, as Prof. Lazarus says (op. tit., p. 202), is
the long time of the suffering, not the suffering of the long time per se.
The Perception of Time. 393
The sensation of taedium is a protest, says Volkmann, against the
entire present.
Exactly parallel variations occur in our consciousness of space.
A road we walk back over, hoping to find at each step an object
we have dropped, seems to us longer than when we walked over
it the other way. A space we measure by pacing appears longer
than one we traverse with no thought of its length. And in gen-
eral an amount of space attended to in itself leaves with us more
impression of spaciousness than one of which we only note the
content. 1
I do not say that everything in these fluctuations of estimate
can be accounted for by the time's content being crowded and
interesting, or simple and tame. Both in the shortening of time
by old age and in its lengthening by ennui, some deeper cause
may be at work. This cause can only be ascertained, if it exist,
by finding out why we perceive time at all. To this inquiry let
us, though without much hope, proceed.
If asked why we perceive the light of the sun, or the sound of
an explosion, we reply, " Because certain outer forces, ether-waves
or air-waves, smite upon the brain, awakening therein changes,
to which the conscious perceptions, light and sound, respond."
But we hasten to add that neither light nor sound copy or mir-
ror the ether- or air-w r aves; they represent them only symboli
cally. The only case, says Helmholtz, in which such copying
occurs, and in which u our perceptions can truly correspond with
outer reality, is that of the time-succession of phenomena. Simul-
taneity, succession, and the regular return of simultaneity or suc-
cession, can obtain as well in sensations as in outer events.
Events, like our perceptions of them, take place in time, so that
the time-relations of the latter can furnish a true copy of those of
the former. The sensation of the thunder follows the sensation
1 On these variations of time-estimate, Cf. Romanes, " Consciousness of Time," in
"Mind," vol. iii, p. 297; J. Sully, " Illusions," pp. 245-261, 302-305; W. Wundt,
" Physiol. Psych.," ii, 287, 288 ; besides the essays quoted from Lazarus and Janet. In
German, the successors of Herbart have treated of this subject : compare Volkmann's
" Lehrbuch d. Psych.," § 89, and for references to other authors his note 3 to this sec-
tion. Lindner (" Lbh. d. empir. Psych."), as a parallel effect, instances Alexander the
Great's life (thirty-three years), which seems to us as if it must be long, because it was
so eventful. Similarly the English Commonwealth, etc.
?94 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
of the lightning just as the sonorous convulsing of the air by the
electric discharge reaches the observer's place later than that of
the lutniuiferous ether. 1
One experiences an almost instinctive impulse, in pursuing such
reflections as these, to follow them to a sort of crude speculative
conclusion, and to think that he has at last got the mystery of
cognition where, to use a vulgar phrase, "the wool is short.''
What more natural, we say, than that the sequences and dura-
tions of things should become known ? The succession of the
outer forces stamps itself as a like succession upon the brain.
The brain's successive changes are copied exactly by correspond-
ingly successive pulses of the mental stream. The mental stream,
feelino; itself, must feel the time-relations of its own states. But
as these are copies of the outward time-relations, so must it know
them too. That is to say, these latter time-relations are the
stimulus arousing their own cognition ; or, in other words, the
mere existence of time in those changes out of the mind which
affect the mind is a sufficient cause why time is perceived by the
mind.
This philosophy is unfortunately too crude. Even though we
were to conceive the outer successions as forces stamping their
image on the brain, and the brain's successions as forces stamping
their image on the mind, 2 still, between the mind's own changes
heing successive, and knowing their own succession, lies as broad
a chasm as between the object and subject of any case of cogni-
tion in the world. A succession of feelings, in and of itself, is not
a feeling of succession. And since, to our successive feelings, a
feeling ot their own succession is added, that must be treated as
an additional fact requiring its own special elucidation, which this
talk about outer time-relations stamping copies of themselves
within, leaves all untouched.
I have shown, at the outset of the article, that what is past, to
be known as past, must be known loith what is present, and dur-
ing the " present " spot of time. As the clear understanding of
this point has some importance, let me, at the risk of repetition,
1 " Physiol. Optik," p. 445.
2 Succession, time per se, is no force. Our talk about its devouring tooth, etc., is all
elliptical. Its contents are what devour. The law of inertia is incompatible with time's
being assumed as an efficient cause of anything.
The Perception of Time. 395
recur to it again. Yolkmann has expressed the matter admirably,
as follows :
" One might be tempted to answer the question of the origin of
the time-idea by simply pointing to the train of ideas, whose va-
rious members, starting from the first, successively attain to full
clearness. But against this it must be objected that the successive
ideas are not yet the idea of succession, because succession in
thought is not the thought ^ succession. If idea A follows idea B,
consciousness simply exchanges one for another. That B comes
after A is for our consciousness a non-existent fact ; for this after
is given neither in B nor in A ; and no third idea has been sup-
posed. The thinking of the sequence of B upon A is another
kind of thinking from that which brought forth A and then
brought forth B ; and this first kind of thinking is absent so long-
as merely the thinking of A and the thinking of B are there. In
short, when we look at the matter sharply, we come to this an-
tithesis, that if A and B are to be represented as occurring in
succession they must be simultaneously represented j if we are to
think of them as one after the other, we must think them both at
once." 1
If we represent the actual time-stream of our thinking by
an horizontal line, the thought of the stream or of any seg-
ment of its length, past, present, or to come, might be figured
in a perpendicular raised upon the horizontal at a certain
point. The length of this perpendicular stands for a certain ob-
ject or content, which in this case is the time thought of, 2 and
which is all thought of too;ether at the actual moment of the stream
upon which the perpendicular is raised. Mr. James Ward puts
the matter very well in his masterly article "Psychology," in the
9th edition of the " Encyclopaedia Britannica," page 64. He says :
" We may, if we represent succession as a line, represent simul-
taneity as a second line at right angles to the first ; empty time —
l a-
; Lehrbuch d. Psych.," § 8V. Compare also H. Lotze, " Metaphysik," § 154.
- As this object has parts, we ought, in order to symbolize the facts thoroughly, to
schematize the stream as a body of three dimensions. The time-thought-of would be
represented by a section across this stream's length ; the portion of the object most dis-
tinct in consciousness (the "nucleus of the thought") would be figured by the highest
part of the section, on either side of which the section would fall away to symbolize
the parts of the object present to consciousness in a vague or " nascent ",way.
l J >96 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
or time-length without time-breadth, we may say — is a mere ab-
straction. Now, it is with the former line that we have to do in
treating of time as it is, and with the latter in treating of our in-
tuition of time, where, just as in a perspective representation of
distance we are confined to lines in a plane at right angles to the
actual line of depth. In a succession of events, say of sense-
impressions, ABODE... the presence of B means the ab-
sence of A and C, but the presentation of this succession involves
the simultaneous presence in some mode or other of two or more
of the presentations ABCD. In reality, past, present, and
future are differences in time, but in presentation all that corre-
sponds to these differences is in consciousness simultaneously."
There is thus a sort of perspective projection of past upon pres-
ent consciousness, similar to that of a wide landscape upon a ca-
mera-screen.
And since we saw a while ago that our maximum distinct intui-
tion of duration hardly covers more than a dozen seconds (while
our maximum vague intuition is probably not more than that of
a minute or so), we must suppose that this amount of duration is
pictured pretty steadily in each passing instant of consciousness
by virtue of some pretty constant element of the brain-process
to which the consciousness is tied. This element of the br<i in-
process, whatever it be, must be the cause of our perceiving the fact
of time at all. 1 The duration thus steadily perceived is hardly
more than the " specious present," as it was called a few pages
back. Its content is in a constant flux, events dawning into its
forward end as fast as thev fade out of its rearward one, and
each of them changing its time coefficient from " not yet," or
"not quite yet," to "just gone" or "gone," as it passes by.
Meanwhile, the specious present, the intuited duration, stands
permanent, like the rainbow on the waterfall, with its own quality
unchanged by the events that stream through it. Each of these,
as it slips out, retains the power of being reproduced ; and when
reproduced, is reproduced with the duration and neighbors which
it originally had. Please observe, however, that the reproduction
of an event, after it has dropped out of the immediately intuited
past (or rearward and of the specious present) is an entirely
1 The cause of the perceiving as distinguished from the object perceived.
The Perception of Time. 397
different psychic fact from its lingering in the specious present.
A creature might be entirely devoid of reproductive memory, and
yet have the time-sense. It would be limited, in his case, to the
duration of the few seconds immediately passing by. I assume
reproduction in the text, because I am speaking of human beings
who notoriously possess it. Thus memory gets strewn with dated
things — dated in the sense of being before or after each other. 1
The date of a thing is a mere relation of before or after the
present, or some other thing. Some things we date simply by
mentally tossing them into the past or future direction. So
in space we think of England as simply to the eastward, of
Charleston as lying south. But, again, w T e may date an event
exactly by fitting it between two terms of a past or future series
explicitly conceived, just as we may accurately think of England
or Charleston being just so many miles away. 2
The things and events thus vaguely or exactly dated become
thenceforward those signs and symbols of longer time-spaces, of
which we previously spoke. According as we think of a multi-
tude of them, or of few, so we imagine the time they represent to
be long or short. But the original paragon and prototype of all
conceived times is the specious present, the short duration of
which we are immediately and incessantly sensible.
Now, to what element in the brain process may this sensibility
be due? It cannot, as we have seen, be due to the mere duration
itself of the process; it must be due to an element present at
1 "'No more' and 'not yet' are the proper time-feelings, and we are aware of time
in no other way than through these feelings," says Volkniann (" Psychol.," § 87). This,
which is not strictly true of our feeling of time per se, is true of our feeling of date in its
events.
2 We construct the miles just as we construct the years. Travelling in the cars makes
a succession of different fields of view pass before our eyes. When those that have
passed from present sight revive in memory, they maintain their mutual order because
their contents overlap. We think them as having been before or behind each other ;
and, from the multitude of the views we can recall behind the one now presented, we
compute the total space we have passed through.
It is often said that the perception of time develops later than that of space, because
children have so vague an idea of all dates before yesterday and after to-morrow. But
no vaguer than they have of extensions that exceed as greatly their unit of space-intui-
tion. Recently I heard my child of four tell a visitor that he had been " as much as one
week" in the country. As he had been there three months, the visitor-expressed sur.
398 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
every moment of the process, and this element must bear the same
inscrutable sort of relation to its product which all other elements
of neural activity bear to their psychic products, be the latter
sensible qualities, or logical relations, or spaces intuited, or pleas-
sures and pains. Several suggestions have been made as to what
the element is in the case of time. Treating of them in a note, 1
prise, whereupon the child corrected himself by saying he had been there "twelve
years." But the child made exactly the same kind of mistake when he asked if Boston
was not one hundred miles from Cambridge, the distance being three miles.
1 Most of these explanations simply give the signs which, adhering to impressions,
lead us to date them within a duration, or, in other words, to assign to them their order.
Why it should be a ^me-order, however, is not explained. Herbart's would-be explana-
tion is a simple description of time-perception. He says it comes when, with the last
member of a series present to our consciousness, we also think of the first ; and then
the whole series revives in our thought at once, but with strength diminishing in the
backward direction ("Psychol, als Wiss.," § 115; "Lehrb. zur Psychol.," §§ 171, 172,
175). Similarly Drobisch, who adds that the series must appear as one already elapsed
(durehlaufene), a word which shows even more clearly the question-begging nature of
this sort of account (" Empirische Psychol.," § 59). Th. Waitz is guilty of similar ques-
tion-begging when he explains our time-consciousness to be engendered by a set of un-
successful attempts to make our percepts agree with our expectations (" Lehrb. d. Psy-
chol.," § 52). Yolkmann's mythological account of past representations striving to
drive present ones out of the seat of consciousness, being driven back by them, etc.,
suffers from the same fallacy (" Psychol.," § 87). But all such accounts agree in im-
plying one fact — viz., that the brain processes of various events must be active simulta-
neously and, in varying strength for a time-perception to be possible. Later authors have
made this idea more precise. Thus, Lipps : " Sensations arise, occupy consciousness,
fade into images, and vanish. According as two of them, a and 6, go through this process
simultaneously, or as one precedes or follows the other, the pthases of their fading will
agree or differ ; and the difference will be proportional to the time-difference between
their several moments of beginning. Thus there are differences of quality in the images
which the mind may translate into corresponding differences of their temporal order.
There is no other possible middle term between the objective time-relations and those in
the mind than these differences of phase" (" Grundtatsachen des Seelenlebens," p. 588).
Lipps accordingly calls them " temporal signs," and hastens explicitly to add that the
soul's translation of their order of strength into a time-order is entirely inexplicable (p.
591). M. Guyau's account (" Revue philosophique," xix, 353) hardly differs from that
of his predecessors, except in picturesqueness of style. Every change leaves a series of
trainees lumineuses in the mind like the passage of shooting stars. Each image is in a
more fading phase, according as its original was more remote. This group of images
gives duration, the mere time-form, the "bed" of time. The distinction of past, pres-
ent, and future within the bed comes from our active nature. The future (as with
Waitz) is what I want, but have not yet got, and must wait for. All this is doubtless
true, but is no explanation.
Mr. Ward gives, in his "Encyclopaedia Britannica" article ("Psychology," p. 65, col.
1), a still more refined attempt to specify the " temporal sign." The problem being,
The Perception of Time. 399
I will try to express briefly the only conclusion which seems to
emerge from a study of them and of the facts — unripe though
that conclusion be.
among a number of things thought as successive, but simultaneously thought, to deter-
mine which is first and which last, he says : " After each distinct representation, abed,
there may intervene the representation of that movement of attention of which we are
aware in passing from one object to another. In our present reminiscences we have, it
must be allowed, little direct proof of this intervention ; though there is, I think, indirect
evidence of it in the tendency of the flow of ideas to follow the order in which the pres-
entations were at first attended to. With the movement itself when the direction of
attention changes, we are familiar enough, though the residua of such movements are
not ordinarily conspicuous. These residua, then, are our temporal signs. . . . But tem-
poral signs alone will not furnish all the pictorial exactness of the time-perspective.
These give us only a fixed series ; but the law of obliviscence, by insuring a progressive
variation in intensity as we pass from one member of the series to the other, yields the
effect which we call time-distance. By themselves such variations in intensity would
leave us liable to confound more vivid representations in the distance with fainter ones
nearer the present, but from this mistake the temporal signs save us ; where the mem-
ory-continuum is imperfect such mistakes continually occur. On the other hand, where
these variations are slight and imperceptible, though the memory-continuum preserves
the order of events intact, we have still no such distinct appreciation of comparative dis-
tance in time as we have nearer to the present, where these perspective effects are con-
siderable. . . . Locke speaks of our ideas succeeding each other ' at certain distances
not much unlike the images in the inside of a lantern turned round by the heat of a
candle,' and ' guesses ' that ' this appearance of theirs in train varies not very much in a
waking man.' Now what is this ' distance' 1 that separates a from b, b from c, and so on ;
and what means have we of knowing that it is tolerably constant in waking life ? It is,
probably, that, the residuum of which I have called a temporal sig?i ; or, in other words,
it is the movement of attention from a to S." Nevertheless, Mr. Ward does not call our
feeling of this movement of attention the original of our feeling of time, or its brain-
process the brain-process which directly causes us to perceive time. He says, a moment
later, that " though the fixation of attention does of course really occupy time, it is
probably not in the first instance perceived as time — i. e., as continuous ' protensity,' to
use a term of Hamilton's — but as intensity. Thus, if this supposition be true, there is
an element in our concrete time-perceptions which has no place in our abstract concep-
tion of Time. In Time physically conceived there is no trace of intensity; in time psy-
chically experienced, duration is primarily an intensive magnitude, and so far literally a
perception." Its "original" is, then, if I understand Mr. Ward, something like a. feeling
which accompanies, as pleasure and pain may accompany, the movements of attention.
Its brain-process must, it would seem, be assimilated in general type to the brain-pro-
cesses of pleasure and pain. Such would seem more or less consciously to be Mr.
Ward's own view, for he says : " Everybody knows what it is to be distracted by a rapid
succession of varied impressions, and equally what it is to be wearied by the slow and
monotonous recurrence of the same impressions. Now these ' feelings ' of distraction
and tedium owe their characteristic qualities to movements of attention. In the first,
attention is kept incessantly on the move; before it is accommodated to a, it is dis-
turbed by the suddenness, intensity, and novelty of b ; in the second, it is" kept all but
400 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
The phenomena of "summation of stimuli" in the nervous
system prove that each stimulus leaves some latent activity be-
hind it which only gradually passes away. Psychological proof
stationary by the repeated presentation of the same impression. Such excess and defect
of surprises make one realize a fact which in ordinary life is so obscure as to escape
notice. But recent experiments have set this fact in a more striking light, and made
clear what Locke had dimly before his mind in talking of a certain distance between the
presentations of a waking man. In estimating very short periods of time of a second
or less, indicated, say, by the beats of a metronome, it is found that there is a certain
period for which the mean of a number of estimates is correct, while shorter periods are
on the whole over-, and longer periods under-estimated. I take this to be evidence of
the time occupied in accommodating or fixing attention." Alluding to the fact that a
series of experiences, abed e, may seem short in retrospect, which seemed everlasting
in passing, he says : " What tells in retrospect is the series a b c d e, etc. ; what tells in
the present is the intervening ti ? 2 h, etc., or rather the original accommodation of
which these temporal signs are the residuum." And he concludes thus : " We seem to
have proof that our perception of duration rests ultimately upon quasi-motor objects of
varying intensity, the duration of which we do not directly experience as duration at all."
Wundt also thinks that the interval of about three fourths of a second, which is esti-
mated with the minimum of error, points to a connection between the time-feeling and
the succession of distinctly " apperceived " objects before the mind. The " association
time " is also equal to about three fourths of a second. This association time he
regards as a sort of internal standard of duration to which we involuntarily assimilate
all intervals which we try to reproduce, bringing shorter ones up to it and longer ones
down. [In the Stevens results we should have to say contrast instead of assimilate, for
the longer intervals there seem longer, and the shorter ones shorter still.] " Singularly
enough," he adds ("Physiol. Psych.," ii, 286), "this time is about that in which in
rapid walking, according to the Webers, our legs perform their swing. It seems thus
not unlikely that both psychical constants, that of the average speed of reproduction
and that of the surest estimation of time, have formed themselves under the influence
of those most habitual movements of the body which we also use when we try to
subdivide rhythmically longer tracts of time."
Finally, Prof. Mach makes a suggestion more specific still. After saying very rightly that
we have a real sensation of time — how otherwise should we identify two entirely differ-
ent airs as being played in the same " time " ? how distinguish in memory the first stroke
of the clock from the second, unless to each there clove its special time-sensation, which
revived with it ? — he says " it is probable that this feeling is connected with that organic
consumption which is necessarily linked with the production of consciousness, and that
the time which we feel is probably due to the [mechanical ?] ivork of [the process of ?]
attention. When attention is strained, time seems long; during easy occupation, short,
etc. . . . The fatigue of the organ of consciousness, as long as we wake, continually in-
creases, and the work of attention augments as continually. Those impressions which
are conjoined with a greater amount of work of attention appear to us as the later." The
apparent relative displacement of certain simultaneous events and certain anachronisms
of dreams are held by Mach to be easily explicable as effects of a splitting of the atten-
tion between two objects, one of which consumes most of it (" Beitriige zur Analyse der
Empfindungen," p. 103, foil.). Mach's theory seems worthy of being better worked out.
The Perception of Time. 401
of the same fact is afforded by those " after-images " which we
perceive when a sensorial stimulus is gone. We may read off
peculiarities in an after-image left by an object on the eye which
we failed to note in the original. We may "hark back" and
take in the meaning of a sound several seconds after it has ceased.
Delay for a minute, however, and the echo itself of the clock or
the question is mute ; present sensations have banished it beyond
recall. With the feeling of the present thing there must at all
times mingle the fading echo of all those other things which the
previous few seconds have supplied. Or, to state it in neural
terms, there is at every moment a cumulation of brain processes
overlapping each other, of which the fainter ones are the dying
phases of processes which but shortly previous were active in a
maximal degree. The amount of the overlapping determines the
feeling of the duration occupied. What events shall appear to
occupy the duration depends on just what processes the overlapping
processes are. We know so little of the intimate nature of the
brain's activity that even where a sensation monotonously endures,
we cannot say that the earlier moments of it do not leave fading
processes behind which coexist with those of the present moment.
Duration and events together form our intuition of the specious
present with its content. 1 Why such an intuition should result
from such a combination of brain-processes, I do not pretend to
say. All I aim at is to state the most elemental form of the
psycho-physical conjunction.
I have assumed that the brain-processes are sensational ones.
Processes of active attention (see Mr. Ward's account in the long
foot-note), will leave similar fading brain-processes behind. If the
It is hard to say now whether he, Ward, and Wundt mean at bottom the same thing or
not. The theory advanced in my own text, it will be remarked, does not pretend to be
an explanation, but only an elementary statement of the " law " which makes us aware
of time. The Herbartian mythology purports to explain.
1 It would be rash to say definitely just how many seconds long this specious present
must needs be, for processes fade " asymptotically," and the distinctly intuited present
merges into a penumbra of mere dim recency before it turns into the simply recollected
and conceived past. Many a thing which we do not distinctly date by intercalating it
in a place between two other things will, nevertheless, come to us with this feeling of
belonging to a near past. This sense of recency is a feeling sui generis, and may affect
things that happened hours ago. It would seem to show that their brain-processes are
still in a state modified by the foregoing excitement, still in a " fading " phase, in spite
of the long interval.
XX— 26
402 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
mental processes are conceptual, a complication is introduced of
which I will in a moment speak. Meanwhile, still speaking of sen-
sational processes, a remark of Wundt's will throw additional light
on the account I give. As is known, Wundt and others have proved
that every act of perception of a sensorial stimulus takes an apprecia-
ble time. When two different stimuli — e. g., a sight and a sound —
are given at once or nearly at once, we have difficulty in attending
to both, and may wrongly judge their interval, or even invert their
order. Now, as the result of his experiments on such stimuli,
Wundt lays down this law : ' that of the three possible determina-
tions we may make of their order — " namely, simultaneity, continu-
ous transition, and discontinuous transition — only the first and last
are realized, never the second. Invariably, when we fail to per-
ceive the impressions as simultaneous, we notice a shorter or longer
empty time between them, which seems to correspond to the sink-
ing of one of the ideas and to the rise of the other. . . . For our
attention may share itself equally between the two impressions,
which will then compose one total percept [and be simultaneously
felt] ; or it may be so adapted to one event as to cause it to be per-
ceived immediately, and then the second event can be perceived
only after a certain time of latency, during which the attention
reaches its effective maximum for it and diminishes for the first
event. In this case the events are perceived as two, and in suc-
cessive order — that is, as separated by a time-interval in which
attention is not sufficiently accommodated to either to bring a dis-
tinct perception about. . . . While we are hurrying from one to
the other, everything between them vanishes in the twilight of
general consciousness."
One might call this the law of discontinuous succession in time
of percepts to which we cannot easily attend at once. Each percept
then requires a separate brain-process ; and when one brain-process
is at its maximum, the other is perforce in either a waning or a
waxing phase. If our theory of the time-feeling be true, empty
time must then subjectively appear to separate the two percepts,
no matter how close together they may objectively be ; for, accord-
ing to that theory, the feeling of a time-duration is the immediate
effect of such an overlapping of brain-processes of different phase
— wherever and from whatever cause, it may occur.
1 " Physiol. Psych.," ii, 263.
The Perception of Time. 403
To pass, now, to conceptual processes : Suppose I think of the
Creation, then of the Christian era, then of the battle of Waterloo,
all within a few seconds. These matters have their dates far out-
side the specious present. The processes by which I think them,
however, all overlap. What events, then, does the specious pres-
ent seem to contain % Simply my successive acts of thinking these
long-past things, not the long-past things themselves. As the
instantly present thought may be of a long-past thing, so the just-
past thought may be of another long-past thing. When a long-past
event is reproduced in memory and conceived with its date, the
reproduction and conceiving traverse the specious present. The
immediate content of the latter is then all my direct experiences,
whether subjective or objective. Some of these may be represent-
ative of other experiences indefinitely remote.
The number of these direct experiences which the specious pres-
ent and immediately intuited past may embrace, measures the ex-
tent of our " primary," as Professor Exner calls it, or, as Professor
Richet calls it, of our "elementary " memory. 1 The sensation re-
sultant from the overlapping is that of the duration the experiences
seem to fill. As is the number of any larger set of events to that
of these experiences, so we suppose is the longer duration to this
duration. But of the longer duration we have no direct "real-
izing sense." The variations in our appreciation of the same
amount of real time may possibly be explained by alterations in
the rate of fading of the images, producing changes in the com-
plication of superposed processes, to which changes changed
states of consciousness may correspond. But however long we may
feel a space of time to be, the objective amount of it, directly
perceived at an} r one moment by us, can never exceed the scope
of our "primary memory" at the moment in question. 2
We have every reason to think that creatures may possibly
differ enormously in the amounts of duration which they intui-
tively feel, and in the fineness of the events that may fill it. Yon
1 Exner in Hermann's "Hdbch. d. Physiol.," Bd. ii, Thl. ii, p. 281. Richet in "Re-
vue philosophique," xxi, p. 568 (Juin, 1886).
2 I have spoken of fading brain-processes alone, but only for simplicity's sake. Dawn-
ing processes probably play as important a part in giving the feeling of duration to the
specious present.
404 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
Bser has indulged 1 in some interesting computations of the effect
of such differences in changing the aspect of Nature. Suppose
we were able, within the length of a second, to note 10,000 events
distinctly, instead of barely ten, as now ; if our life were then des-
tined to hold the same number of impressions, it might be 1,000
times as short. We should live less than a month, and personally
know nothing of the change of seasons. If born in winter, we
should believe in summer as we now believe in the heats of the
Carboniferous era. The motions of organic beings would be so
slow to our senses as to be inferred, not seen. The sun would
stand still in the sky, the moon be almost free from change, and so
on. But now reverse the hypothesis and suppose a being to get
only one 1,000th part of the sensations that we get in a given time,
and consequently to live 1,000 times as long. Winters and sum-
mers will be to him like quarters of an hour. Mushrooms and the
swifter-growing plants will shoot into being so rapidly as to ap-
pear instantaneous creations ; annual shrubs will rise and fall from
the earth like restlessly boiling-water springs ; the motions of ani-
mals will be as invisible as are to us the movements of bullets and
cannon-balls ; the sun will scour through the sky like a meteor, leav-
ing a fiery trail behind him, etc. That such imaginary cases
(barring the superhuman longevity) may be realized somewhere in
the animal kingdom, it would be rash to deny. " A gnat's wings,"
says Mr. Spencer, 2 " make ten or fifteen thousand strokes a sec-
ond. Each stroke implies a separate nervous action. Each such
nervous action or change in a nervous centre is probably as ap-
preciable by the gnat as is a quick movement of his arm by a
man. And if this, or anything like this, is the fact, then the
time occupied by a given external change, measured by many
movements in the one case, must seem much longer than in the
other case, when measured by one movement."
In hashish-intoxication there is a curious increase in the appar-
ent time-perspective. We utter a sentence, and ere the end is
reached the beginning seems already to date from indefinitely long
ago. We enter a short street, and it is as if we should never get
to the end of it. This alteration might conceivably result from an
approach to the condition of Yon Beer's and Spencer's short-lived
1 "Reden," St. Petersburg, 1864, vol. i, pp. 255-268.
2 "Psychology," § 91.
The Perception of Time. 405
beings. If our discrimination of successions became finer-grained,
so that we noted ten stages in a process where previously we only
noted one ; and if at the same time the processes faded ten times as
fast as before ; we might have a specious present of the same subject-
ive length as now, giving us the same time-feeling and containing as
many distinguishable successive events, but out from the earlier
end of it would have dropped nine-tenths of the real events it
now contains. They would have fallen into the general reservoir
of merely dated memories, reproducible at will. The beginning
of our sentences would have to be expressly recalled ; each word
would appear to pass through consciousness at a tenth of its usual
speed. The condition would, in short, be exactly analogous to the
enlargement of space by a microscope ; fewer real things at once
in the immediate field of view, but each of them taking up more
than its normal room, and making the excluded ones seem un-
naturally far away.
Under other conditions, processes seem to fade rapidly without
the compensating increase in the subdivisibility of successions.
Here the apparent length of the specious present contracts. Con-
sciousness dwindles to a point, and loses all intuitive sense of the
whence and whither of its path. Express acts of memory replace
rapid bird's-eye views. In my own case, something like this occurs
in extreme fatigue. Long illnesses produce it. Occasionally, it
appears to accompany aphasia. 1 It would be vain to seek to im-
1 " The patient cannot retain the image of an object more than a moment. His mem-
ory is as short for sounds, letters, figures, and printed words. If we cover a written or
printed word with a sheet of paper in which a little window has been cut, so that only
the first letter is visible through the window, he pronounces this letter. If, then, the
sheet is moved so as to cover the first letter and make the second one visible, he pro-
nounces the second, but forgets the first, and cannot pronounce the first and second
together." And so forth to the end. "If he closes his eyes and draws his ringer ex-
ploring]}' over a well-known object like a knife or key, he cannot combine the separate
impressions and recognize the object. But if it is put into his hand so that he can
simultaneously touch it with several fingers, he names it without difficulty. This patient
has thus lost the capacity for grouping successive . . . impressions . . . into a whole
and perceiving them as a whole." (Grashey, in " Archiv. f iir Psychiatric," Bd. xvi, pp.
672-673.) It is hard to believe that in such a patient the time intuited was not clipped
off like the impressions it held, though perhaps not so much of it.
I have myself often noted a curious exaggeration of time-perspective at the moment
of falling asleep. A person will be moving or doing something in the room, and a cer-
tain stage of his act (whatever it may be) will be my last waking perception. Then a
subsequent stage will wake me to a new perception. The two stages of the act will not
406 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
agine the exact brain change in any of these cases. But we must
admit the possibility that to some extent the variations of time-
estimate between youth and age, and excitement and ennui, are
due to such causes, more immediate than the one we assigned
some time ago.
But whether our feeling of the time which immediately past '
events have filled be of something long or of something short, it
is not what it is because those events are past, but because they
have left behind them processes which are present. To those pro-
cesses, however caused, the mind would still respond by feeling a
specious present, with one part of it just vanishing or vanished
into the past. As the Creator is supposed to have made Adam
with a navel — sign of a birth which never occurred — so He might
instantaneously make a man with a brain in which were processes
just like the "fading" ones of an ordinary brain. The first real
stimulus after creation would set up a process additional to these.
The processes would overlap ; and the new-created man would
unquestionably have the feeling, at the very primal instant of his
life, of having been in existence already some little space of time.
Let me sum up, now, by saying that we are constantly conscious
of a certain duration — the specious present — varying in length
from a few seconds to probably not more than a minute, and that
this duration (with its content perceived as having one part earlier
and the other part later) is the original intuition of time. Longer
times are conceived by adding, shorter ones by dividing, portions
of this vaguely bounded unit, and are habitually thought by us
symbolically. Kant's notion of an intuition of objective time as
an infinite necessary continuum has nothing to support it. The
cause of the intuition which we really have cannot be the dura-
he more than a few seconds apart ; and yet it always seems to me as if, between the
earlier and the later one, a long interval has passed away. I account for the phenome-
non thus, calling the two stages of the act a and b respectively : Were I awake, a would
leave a fading process in my sensorium which would overlap the process of b when the
latter came, and both would then appear in the same specious present, a belonging to
its earlier end. But the sudden advent of the brain change called sleep extinguishes a's
fading process abruptly. When b then comes and wakes me, a comes back, it is true,
but not as belonging to the specious present. It has to be specially revoked in memory.
This mode of revocation usually characterizes long-past things — whence the illusion.
1 Again I omit the future, merely for simplicity's sake.
IlegeVs Philosophy of Religion. 407
tion of our brain-processes or our mental changes ; for the in-
tuition is realized at every moment of such duration, and must be
due to a permanently present cause. This cause — probably the
simultaneous presence of brain-processes of different phase — fluc-
tuates ; and hence a certain range of variation in the amount of
the intuition, and in its subdivisibility, accrues.
William James.
HEGEL'S PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION.
TRANSLATED PROM THE GERMAN BY F. LOUIS SOLDAN.
C. Classification of the Subject.
There can be but one method for all science for the reason that
the method is nothing but the idea itself in its self-development
or self-explication, and that there is but One Idea.
Since there are three phases of the idea, this discourse on
religion and its development must have three parts. The idea
of religion will be considered first in its universality, secondly
in the phase of particularity, wherein the idea has parts and
distinctions, and which is the phase of differentiation, particulari-
zation or limitation (Urtheil), of difference and tinitude. The
third topic is the reunion of the idea within itself, which
forms the conclusion, where the idea returns to itself from the
phase of determination (in which it was inadequate to itself) and
becomes adequate to its form by cancelling its limitations. This
is the rhythm of spirit itself, its pulse, eternal life; without this
movement it would be death. It is the essence of spirit to have
itself for its object, and thence arises its manifestation. But here
spirit is as yet in the relation of objectivity, and in this relation
it is finite. The third phase is, that spirit becomes an object to
itself in such a manner that it is reconciled to and united with
itself again in the object, and, by thus being again one with it, it
arrives at itself once more, and attains thereby its freedom. For
freedom means to be self-contained (bei sich selbst zu sein).
This rhythm, which forms the movement of the totality of our
science and of the entire development of the idea, is repeated
within each of the three phases which have been mentioned above,
408 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
because each of these in its determinateiiess is in itself or poten-
tially the totality. In the last phase totality becomes actual, or
exists for itself. The idea therefore appears first in the form
of universality, next in that of particularity, and lastly in the
form of singularity or individuality. Consequently, the general
movement of our science is that the idea appears divided into its
elements (in the same way in which the simple unit of a concept
or notion becomes divided into subject and object, when by predi-
cating of it one of its qualities we form a judgment of it), and in
the conclusion the idea becomes again self-united. 1 Thus there
will be in each of the three spheres of this movement a similar
development of the phases, with this difference, however, that in
the first sphere this development is held together in the cate-
gory of universality, in the seconds phere (that of particuliarty)
the phases appear independent, while in the third sphere (that of
singularity or individuality) the development arrives at a union
(Schluss) which has been mediated through the totality of the
determinations or categories.
This classification is therefore [simply a statement of ] the spir-
it's own movement and of its nature and activity, and we are,
so to speak, simply the spectators. This classification results with
necessity from the movement of the Ide;. itself ; this necessity,
however, must prove itself in the course of this development.
The classification, therefore, whose parts and co ntent we now pro-
ceed to give, is simply historical.
I. The General Idea of Religion.
The first is the idea in its universality, upon which follows,
in the second place, the determinateiiess of the idea — that is,
1 Translator's Note. — This sentence is a paraphrase rather than a translation. The
words which Hegel uses here, Urtheil and Schluss, have in his terminology a peculiar
meaning which cannot be given by any equivalent direct expression in English, but of
which it seemed desirable to give some idea. At a first glance, the literal translation of
the original seems to be: The general movement of our science is, that the idea be-
comes a judgment and then completes itself in a syllogism. Hegel, however, uses
the word Urthe'd (judgment) in a sense different from that which it ordinarily has, and
employs it in the rarer meaning of " original division or partition" (Ur-Theil). In the
same way Schluss, the word used in German for a syllogism, means literally a locking or
linking together. Thus Hegel's expression, that the idea in its second phase becomes an
Urtheil and in its third is completed in the Schluss, describes well the movement of the
idea through the stages of particularity and reunion.
IlegeVs Philosophy of Religion. 409
the idea in its determinate forms. The latter are necessarily
connected with the idea, because in a philosophical inquiry the
universal (i. £.,the general idea) is placed first not merely in order
to occupy a place of honor. In an philosophical books it may
happen that the general ideas (for instance, those of Right, of
Nature) are made universal determinations and are placed first.
They are rather embarrassing when thus employed [because they
seem to be of no special use there]. They are [stated but] hardly
seriously discussed, since the notion prevails that they do not pos-
sess the same importance as the content proper of the book which
is treated of in the subsequent chapters. The so-called general
idea seems to have no bearing on the remaining content, ex-
cept that it maps out to some extent the scope of the subject, so
that there may be no introduction of foreign matter. The rest
of the content (for instance, magnetism, electricity) is looked upon
as the real subject, and the idea as a mere form. Where such a
view prevails, the idea (for instance, that of Right), which is placed
at the head of a treatise, becomes a mere name for a most abstract
and contingent content.
In a philosophical discourse the idea forms the beginning as
well, but the idea is also the content itself; it is the absolute sub-
ject, the substance ; it is like a germ from which the whole tree
grows. In the germ are contained all the determinations of the
tree — its whole nature, its kind of sap, its ramifications — but not in
such a manner that through a microscope one could see in the
germ miniature twigs and leaves; the content is there spiritually.
In the same way the idea contains the whole nature of the subject,
and the cognition of the latter is but the development of the idea,
or, in other words, the development of what is potentially con-
tained in the idea but has not yet assumed existence and is wait-
ing for explication and unfolding. We therefore begin with the
idea of religion.
1. THE PHASE OF UNIVERSALITY.
The first thing in the idea of religion is again the universal.
It is the phase of thinking in its universality. We do not think
this or that object, but thinking thinks itself. The object is the
universal, which, when active, is Thought. Religion, in so far as
it is the elevation to truth, has its starting-point in -sensuous,
410 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy .
finite objects. Yet, if the continuation were but a constant pass-
ing to other finite objects, it would be a faulty process continued
ad infinitum, mere words by which no conclusion is ever reached.
Thinking, on the contrary, should be the elevation from what is lim-
ited to what is absolutely universal, and religion exists for thinking
and in thinking alone. God is not the highest emotion, but the high-
est thought ; even when he is dragged down to the realm of image-
conception, the content of this concept still belongs to the world
of thought. The great error of our age is the opinion that think-
ing is injurious to religion, and that the latter enjoys a securer ex-
istence in proportion as the former is relinquished. This mistake
arises from a total misapprehension of higher spiritual relationship.
Similarly, in regard to the Idea of Right, good-will is often looked
upon as if it were something by itself and stood in a certain con-
trast to intelligence, and it is imagined that the less a person
thinks, the more truly good is his will. By no means ! Right
and morality exist only because I am a thinking being, and be-
cause I do not look upon my freedom as upon that of an empirL
cal person, as belonging to me as an individual. Were it other
wise, I might try and enslave my neighbor through stratagem or
violence, but I refrain because I consider freedom as something
existing in and for itself, as a universal.
In asserting that religion contains the phase of thinking in its
perfect universality, and that the unlimited universal is the
highest and absolute thought, we do not yet make the distinction
between subjective and objective thinking. The universal is
object and is thinking absolutely, but not yet developed in itself
and as yet without further determinations. In it there is an ab-
sence and cancellation of all distinctions ; in this ether of thought
all finitude has disappeared, everything has vanished, and yet
everything is therein contained. But this element of universality
cannot yet be determined ; in this water, in this transparency,
nothing has as yet assumed form and shape.
The continuation of this process is, that the universal now deter-
mines itself for itself [or, in other words, actualizes itself], and this
self-determination constitutes the idea of God. In the sphere of
universality the Idea itself is the material in which the determi-
nations occur, and the process appears in divine forms ; but this
alienation or formation remains only latent in the divine Idea
IlegeVs Philosophy of Religion. 411
because the latter is still all substantiality ; in its determination of
eternity it remains in the depths of universality.
2. THE PHASE OF PARTICULARITY, OR THE SPHERE OF DIFFEREN-
TIATION.
The particularization or differentiation which in the sphere of
universality is still latent, constitutes, after it has once made its
appearance actually, another or alien existence in contrast with
the [former] extreme of universality. This other extreme is con-
sciousness as individuality, and nothing else. It is the subject in
its immediateuess, with all its needs, conditions, sins, and the
whole empirical and temporal character appertaining to that stage.
The relation between the two sides in this determination is
found in my own individuality and its religion. I, the thinking
being, that which is in a state of elevation, the actively universal,
and I, the immediate subject, are one and the same. The relation
between these two sides which seem to stand in such a riVid con-
trast, merely finite consciousness and being on one hand, and the
infinite on the other, is established for myself in religion. By
thinking I rise to the Absolute, above all finitude, and become
infinite consciousness, while I remain at the same time finite self-
consciousness in accordance with my entire empirical determina-
tion. Both sides as well as their relation exist for myself. Both
sides seek and avoid each other. At one time, for instance,. I lay
stress on my empirical, finite consciousness and contrast myself
with infinity, and at another time I exclude myself from myself;
I condemn myself and allow the infinite consciousness to have
sway. The middle term of the syllogism contains but the determi-
nations of the two extremes. The two sides do not resemble the
columns of Hercules, which, while close to each other, stand oppo-
site each other without any contact. I am, and there is within
myself and for myself this contradiction and this conciliation.
My own being within, since it is infinite, stands in contrast to
myself as finite. I find within myself the determination as finite
consciousness, and also, in contrast with it, my thinking, which has
the determination of infinite consciousness. I am the feeling, the
perception, the image-representation of this union and of this con-
tradiction, and I am at the same time that in which these contra-
ries are held together. I am that which endeavors to hold them*
412 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
together, and I am the labor of the mind by which it tries to mas-
ter this contradiction.
I am thus the relation between these two sides, which are not
abstract determinations, like finite and infinite, but of which each
is the totality itself. Each of these two extremes is the Ego — that
which constitutes the relation, and which holds the extremes to-
gether. The relation is identical with the principles which are at
strife within One, and which become One in this struggle. I am
the struggle, for the struggle is naught but the contradiction which
consists in the fact that those two are not in a state of indifference
toward each other on account of being diverse, but are, on the con-
trary, tied to each other. I am not one of the two that are strug-
gling, but I am the two combatants, and I am the struggle. I am
the fire and the water which are here in contact, and I am the con-
tact and the union of those that flee from each other; the contact
is but the double, contradictory relation subsisting bewteen ele-
ments which are now separated and divided, and then again con-
ciliated and united.
We shall see that the forms in which this relation of the two
extremes exists are : „
1. Feeling.
2. Sense-perception (Anschauung).
3. I mage- representation (Vorstellung).
Before we enter into the sphere of these relations we shall have
to cognize it in its necessity, inasmuch as this sphere, on account
of being the elevation of the finite consciousness to the Absolute,
contains the forms of religious consciousness. In exploring this
necessity of religion, we shall have to look upon it as being posited
by something else.
At the very beginning of this mediation, when it initiates us to
the circle of those forms of consciousness, religion will appear to
us as a result which is just cancelling this determination of being
a result. Religion, consequently, will present itself as the first
principle by which everything else is mediated and on which it
depends. We shall thus see in that which has been mediated the
interaction of movement and of necessity which move forward and
repel at the same time. But this mediation of necessity should
also be posited within religion itself, in order that the relation
and essential connection of the two sides embraced by religious
IlegeVs Philosophy of Religion. 413
spirit may be known as necessary. The forms of feeling, sense-
perception, and image-representation, proceeding necessarily one
from another, move onward into that sphere in which the inner
mediation of their phases manifests its own necessity. The sphere
in which this takes place is that of thinking ; in it religious con-
sciousness will grasp itself in its idea. These two mediations of
necessity, of which one leads to religion, while the other takes
place within religious self-consciousness itself, include the forms
of religious consciousness as it appears in the forms of feeling,
sense-perception, and image-representation.
3. THE ANNULMENT OF THE DIFFERENTIATION, OE THE CULTUS.
The movement in the preceding sphere is that of the idea of
God or of the absolute Idea, by which it seeks to become objective
to itself. This movement we find even in this statement of the
idea : God is spirit. Spirit cannot be single individuality ; it is
spirit only by being objective to itself and by seeing itself in its
other. The highest determination of spirit is self-consciousness,
which implies this objectivity. God as Idea is subject for an ob-
ject, and object for some subject. When the phase of subjectivity
determines itself further, so that the distinction arises between
God as object of thought and the thinking spirit, then the subject-
ive side is determined in this difference as belonging to the side
of finitude. These two, then, stand in contrast to each other in
such a manner that their separation constitutes the contrast be-
tween finitude and infinity. But this infinity, on account of the
contrast which still clings to it, is not the true one ; the absolute
object remains another existence for the subjective side (which is
for itself), and the relation of the subjective to the absolute is not
self-consciousness. There is also in this connection the relation
that the finite in its separation knows itself to be transitory and
naught, and its object to be the absolute and its own substance.
Here the primary relation which takes place is that of fear toward
the absolute object, because, compared with it, individuality knows
itself to be accident, transitoriness, and evanescence. But this
standpoint of separation is not a true standpoint, since it knows
itself as being nugatory, as being in a state which should be can-
celled ; its relation is therefore uot simply negative, but latently
positive. The subject recognizes its own essence in the'substance
414: The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
into which it is to become merged through self-cancellation ; it
recognizes it as its own substance, in which, for this reason, self-
consciousness will be preserved potentially. This union, con-
ciliation, and rehabilitation of the subject and of its self -conscious-
ness, the positive feeling that it participates and shares in the
Absolute, and the wish to arrive at a real union with the latter,
constitute a cancellation of the separation and form the phase
of Cultus or worship. The Cultus comprises this whole inward
and outward activity which has for its purpose the rehabilitation
of the unity. The expression " Cultus " or " worship " is ordinarily
used in the narrower sense of external, public actions; this defini-
tion does not lay stress on the inward activity of the soul. The
meaning which we shall attach to the word Cultus will comprise
this inward activity as well as its outward manifestation ; this
activity is to bring about the rehabilitation of the union with the
Absolute, and is therefore an inner conversion of spirit and soul.
The Christian Cultus or worship contains, for instance, not only the
sacraments, church-rites, and duties, but also the so-called " way
of salvation" which is an absolutely inward history and a succes-
sion of acts of the soul, a movement which is to take place, and
does take place, within the soul.
In each stage of religion we shall find these two sides in corre-
spondence with each other — namely, the side of self-consciousness,
which is the Cultus or worship, and the side of consciousness, which
is the image-representation. 1 The content of the concept of God,
which is consciousness, is determined in the same way as the rela-
tion of the subject to Him, which is self-consciousness. The one
phase is always the copy of the other, and ever suggests the other.
One of these modes grasps the finite consciousness only, the other
pure self-consciousness; both are therefore one-sided, and bear
their annulment or cancellation in themselves.
1 Translator's Note. — Hegel distinguishes between the Idea of God as consciousness
and as self-consciousness. The mind may be conscious of God as of the Supreme Being
which stands above him, and in whose existence in the universe he believes as firmly as
that of the external objects which he sees in nature. He is conscious of God as the
Ruler of heaven and universe. This is the consciousness of God as an external existence.
But man sees the Divine not merely as an external existence ; he feels that his own soul
also is of divine origin and nature. When the Divine is recognized within, it is an act of
self-consciousness. Hence religion is the cognition of the Divine without, or conscious-
ness, and of the Divine within, or self-consciousness.
HegeVs Philosophy of Religion. 415
It was therefore a one-sided view, if the old, natural theology
looked upon God as merely an object of consciousness. This
view of the Idea of God may perhaps employ the words "spirit"
or " person," but its real conception of God could never rise higher
than to the idea of an Essence. It was inconsistent. If it had
been consistent, it would certainly have arrived at the subjective
side, or that of self-consciousness.
It is equally one-sided to look upon religion as subjectivity [or
self-consciousness] only, for this would limit it to the subjective
side altogether. It would make all cultus and worship perfectly
barren and void ; its actions would be a movement without prog-
ress; its direction toward God would be the relation to a nought,
and have no definite aim. This merely subjective activity, too, is
inconsistent, and must therefore cancel itself. For, if the sub-
jective side is to have any determination at all, the concept of
spirit implies that the latter is consciousness, and that its determi-
nation will become its object. The richer the mind and the fuller
it is determined, the richer will be its object. The absoluteness of
the feeling which is supposed to be substantial would necessarily
imply that it disengages itself from its subjectivity ; for the sub-
stantial element, which is said to be its characteristic, is certainly
opposed to the accidents of mere opinion and inclination, since it
is fixed in and for itself; it has in and for itself an objective ex-
istence and is independent of our feeling and sentiment. If the
Substantial remained simply in our heart, it could not be recog-
nized as the Supreme; God himself would remain something sub-
jective, and the tendency of subjectivity would be like the drawing
of lines into the void. The mere recognition of the Supreme, which
this standpoint may express, is the recognition of an indefinite some-
thing which has no connection with any objective existence ; the
lines drawn toward it have no direction, and are and remain simply
our activity, our lines — things that are altogether subjective. In
this standpoint the finite never attains true and real self-alienation.
It is necessary that in the cultus or worship spirit should free itself
from its fiuitude and feel and know itself in God. Unless God
has independent existence, and unless our relation to him is obliga-
tory, all cultus shrinks into subjectivity. The cultus contains, as
essential elements, the actions, immunities, assurances, confirma-
tions, and attestations of some Supreme Existence. These definite
416 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
actions, real immunities and assurances, cannot take place if the
objective and obligatory element is lacking in them, and it would
be an annihilation of the cultus if the subjective side were consid-
ered the whole. It would cut off both the progress from con-
sciousness to objective knowledge and the progress from subject-
ive emotion to action. Each of these is most intimately connected
with the other. Man's idea of his obligation in regard to God
depends on his conception of God ; his self-consciousness corre-
sponds to his consciousness. Nor can he, conversely, conceive the
idea of any definite obligatory action in regard to God if he has
no knowledge or definite conception of Him as an objective Exist-
ence. Only when religion becomes a real relation and contains
the difference of consciousness can the cultus assume its true form
as the cancellation of alienation and become a living process.
The movement of the cultus is not limited to this inwardness in
which consciousness frees itself from its finitude and becomes
consciousness of its essence ; and in which the subject, knowing
itself to be in God, enters into the fountain-head of its life. In-
stead of such limitation of the cultus, its infinite life begins to de-
velop in the external direction also, for the subject's or individ-
ual's life in the world has substantial consciousness for its basis,
and the manner in which the individual determines his aims in
life depends on the consciousness of its essential truth. In this
respect religion reflects itself in worldly affairs, and the knowledge
of the world makes its appearance. This entrance into the real
world is essential to religion, and in the transition to the world
religion appears as morality in relation to the state and to its entire
life. As the religion of a nation, so is its morality and political
constitution. The latter depends altogether on the question
whether a people has but a limited conception of the freedom of
spirit or possesses the true consciousness of freedom.
We shall find, as further determinations of the cultus, the phase
of presupposed unity, the sphere of differentiation and of freedom
rehabilitating itself from this state of separation or differentiation.
a. The cultus, therefore, generally speaking, is the eternal pro-
cess of the subject, by which it posits itself identical with its
essence.
This process by which the previous diremption is cancelled
seems to belong to the subjective side only ; yet this determina-
Classification of the Mathematical Sciences. 417
tion is posited in the object of consciousness also. By the cultus,
unity is attained ; but that which, was not united originally cannot
be posited as united. This unity, which appears as action, or as
the result of action, must also be cognized in a further phase, as
being in-and-for-itself. For that which forms the object of con-
sciousness is the Absolute, and the determination of the latter is,
that it is the unity of its absoluteness with particularity. This
unity is implied in the object itself, as, for instance, in the Chris-
tian idea of God becoming man.
CLASSIFICATION OF THE MATHEMATICAL
SCIENCES.
BY J. M. LONG.
1. Mathematics at the Base of the Sciences. — Mathematics, in
any true classification of the Sciences, must stand at the base.
The science of education, as based on the law of mental evolution,
determines the order in which the categories, or fundamental ideas,
shall be arranged. This law of mental development is from the
simple to the complex, from those subjects involving a few elements
of thought to those involving many. This law requires that mathe-
matics shall stand at the base of a classified scheme, for this form
of scientific intelligence involves only the thought-elements of num-
ber and extension as associated with the ideas of time and space.
Space and time " are the conditions of all cognizable existence.
Whatever exists, so far as is known or can be known to us, ex-
ists in space; and whatever acts, acts in time. Consequently the
properties of space and time are conditions of all existence and
all action ; the laws under which things exist and act can not be
proved, nor even stated, without express or implied reference to
the properties of space and time. It results from this that mathe-
matics, which is the science of the laws of space and time, is the
necessary ground of physical science." — Whewell.
2. Definition of Mathematics. — In seeking a definition of mathe-
matics, out of which all the parts shall be seen to unfold in logical
XX— 27
418 The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
order, we may begin with the primary meaning of this form of in-
telligence. The term means primarily learning / and from the
point of view of the Greeks, who had no other science, mathematics
meant simply science in general. As this science relates in some
way to quantity, it must mean to learn something concerning the
relations of quantity as space, time, matter, motion, and force.
The very name itself indicates how early in the historic develop-
ment of the human mind man came to feel the value and impor-
tance of this form of intelligence to enable him to brino- the order
of his thought into correspondence with the order of external na-
ture. Science confers the power of prevision ; and mathematics
gives the power of quantitative prevision which is the highest form
of the scientific intelligence. This form of intelligence first at-
tained to the stage of fully developed science because, although
dealing with the most abstract relations, these are, at the same
time, the most simple. Thought, it is true, unfolds from the con-
crete to the abstract ; but this is not the controlling and sole law.
Another principle comes in to determine the order in which the
scientific intelligence unfolds, namely, iihe law of least mental re-
sistance to thought. While mathematics deals with the most gen-
eral and abstract relations, these are, at the same time, the most
simple. The subject-matter of mathematics is the ideal world of
space and time; geometrical forms and the combinations of num-
ber. The relations of space and time are the primary and funda-
mental relations of thought. Existence and activity are the two
poles of thought, but existence has its background in space, and
activity finds its Held in time. It was much easier for the mind
to discover the abstract properties of quantity than patiently to
make inductions among the complex realities of concrete things.
The prime necessity of the scientific intelligence was measure-
ment. Hence science has been appropriately called the measurer.
Mathematics has therefore had its origin in the necessity of meas-
uring distances, velocities, and dimensions which did not admit of
direct measurement.
With these preliminary remarks respecting the development
and purpose of mathematics as a science, we may now pass to a
consideration of its definition. Comte, fixing his mind on the
necessity which developed this form of intelligence into a science,
defines mathematics as the science which has for its object the in-
Classification of the Mathematical Sciences. 419
direct measurement of magnitudes. The usual definition of mathe-
matics as the science which has for its object the measurement of
magnitudes is criticised by Comte on the ground that it is vague,
and degrades mathematics into a mere art. The essential nature
of science consists in the determination of certain phenomena by
means of others — to infer the unknown from the known in accord-
ance with certain fixed relations between them. Science, in all
its forms, aims, so far as 
