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belonging to the Time, and possibly in that instance in which it is most clearly visible, then I do not see why we should repeat the saine thing with reference to others, in whom there may indeed be some accidental and outward difference, but internally an exact similitude;—and thus become mere copyists of ourselves. The question is not concerning the position of Sempronius, or Caius, or Titus, but concerning the position of the Age;—if we have al- ready made this manifest by the example of Sempronius, then we have, at most, to add the remark that Caius and Titus are examples of the same kind; so that no one may expect that they should be separately considered. Should these possess, in addition to the essential and prevailing spirit of the Age, such and such subsidiary and character- istic tendencies, then we must thoroughly investigate these tendencies, and exhibit each of them clearly by means of its most remarkable example:—as for the other instances belonging to the same class, we may, at most, apply to them the remark already suggested.
It is not otherwise with the estimate of the Age in refer- ence to Art; in which department we here confine ourselves to Literature. The measure of excellence is the elevated purity, the ethereal clearness, the serene calmness, un- troubled by individual imperfection or by any relation which does not belong to the domain of pure Art, which the work displays. Have we set these forth as they exist in the masterworks of the Age;—why need we concern ourselves with the efforts of mere aspirants? or even with the studies ofthe master? The latter we employ, in order thereby the better to penetrate and understand the individuality of the Artist,—which, as such, is never a sensuous, but always an ideal individuality,—and by means of this knowledge of his individuality to attain a more thorough compre- hension of his work. In short, such a Review must be nothing else, and desire to be nothing else, than a record of the essential spirit of Science and of Art;—whatever IDEAL CONDITION OF THE SCIENTIFIC WORLD. 121 cannot be regarded as a variation and farther embodi- ment of this spirit, should have no place in it, and should not enter within the circle of its observation. It matters not that each day in the calendar may not send forth its printed sheet of such a Review; nor every month, nor even perhaps every half-year, its vol- ume;—in that case paper has been saved and the Reader has been spared much useless labour. Does no contin- uation appear?—it is a sign that nothing new has occurred in the intellectual world, but that everything moves in its old round:—has something new occurred?— the record will not be wanting to announce it.
With regard to Art alone an exception to the strictness of this rule may be permitted. Humanity is as yet much further removed from true Knowledge in Art than in Science, and there will be needed a much longer course of preparation before it can arrive at the former, than may be required in its progress towards the latter. In this respect, even feeble efforts employed on the inter- pretation of imperfect works of Art may be welcomed,— not indeed as portions of our true spiritual record, which can only describe the real, living movement of Humanity; but only as popular aids, that thereby the general public may become more conversant with the art of understanding a work;—and if the common Journals of Criticism only sometimes made such attempts they might be entitled to our thanks. But with reference to Science no such exception to the strictness of the rule can be admitted:—for beginners in this department there are Schools and Universities in existence.
MYSTICISM AS A PHENOMENON OF THE THIRD AGE, TuE Third Age has now been described in its fundamental character,—as an Age which accepts nothing but what it understands;—and its leading conception in this process of understanding has been sufficiently set forth as that of mere sensuous Experience. From this fundamental principle of the Age we have deduced the distinction between a Learned and an Unlearned Class, and the constitution of these two classes, both in themselves and in their relation to each other. In addition to this we have shown historically, in our last lecture, that this relation has not always existed as at present; how and in what way it has arisen and become as it now is;—and also how this relation must exist in the following Age,—that of Reason as Know- ledge.
Now we have formerly remarked, in our general survey of this subject, that such an Age of mere naked Experience and of empty Formal Knowledge does by its very nature stir up opposition, and bears within its own breast the germs of a reaction against itself. Let us take up this remark in the lecture of to-day, and pursue it somewhat further. It cannot be but that single individuals—either because they actually feel the dreary barrenness and emptiness of the results of such a principle, or else moved by the mere 124 LECTURE VIII.
124 LECTURE VIII.
desire of bringing forward something wholly new, which desire itself we have already discovered among the charac- teristics of this Epoch,—precisely inverting the principle of the Age, and representing its pretension to understand all things as its bane and the source of all its error,— should now, on the contrary, set up the Incomprehensible as such, and on account of its incomprehensibility, as their own principle,—as all of which man stands in need, the true source of all healing and sanctification. Even this phenomenon, as I said before, although apparently quite opposed to the Third Age, does nevertheless belong to the necessary phenomena of this Age, and is not to be overlooked in a complete delineation of it.
In the first place, the fact that the supporters of the maxim,—that we must be able to understand everything which we ought to admit as true—do nevertheless con- stantly accept many things which neither they nor their opponents understand, is a manifest contradiction of the maxim itself; which contradiction obviously cannot take place, or be theoretically propounded until the maxim itself be announced, and indeed only arises in the polemical dis- cussion of the maxim;—a contradiction, however, which must necessarily make its appearance so soon as this maxim has been prevalent for any length of time, has received mature consideration, and has been brought out in clear and unequivocal distinctness. Thus the announcement of this principle of the Incomprehensible is neither the begin- ning nor yet any essential element of the new Age which: is to arise out of the Third, namely, the Age of Reason as Knowledge; for it finds no fault with the maxim of absolute Intelligibility, but rather recognises it as its own; finding fault only with the mischievous and worthless notion which is now made the standard of this Intelligi- bility, and the measure of all authentic Truth; while as to Intelligibility itself, the Age of Reason as Knowledge lays it down as afundamental principle, that everything, even MYSTICISM AS A PHENOMENON OF. THE THIRD AGE. 125 the Unknown itself, as the limit of the Known, and as the only possible pledge that the domain of the Known is ex- hausted, must be comprehended; and that in all Times, and as the only sufficient substratum of the Time, there must be a then Unknown,—known only as the Unknown; but at no Time an absolute Incomprehensible. This prin- ciple of absolute Incomprehensibility is thus much more directly opposed to Knowledge, than even the principle of the Intelligibility of all things through the concep- tions of mere sensuous Experience. Finally, this prin- ciple of Incomprehensibility, as such, is not a remnant of any former Age, as is obvious from what we have already said on this point. The absolute Incomprehen- sible of Heathen and Jewish antiquity,—the arbitrary God, never to be understood but always to be feared, with whom man could only by good fortune come to terms,—far from having been sought out by these Ages, was imposed upon them by necessity, and in opposition to their own will, and they would gladly have been delivered from this conception had that been possible. The In- comprehensible of the Christian Church, again, was accepted as true,—not on account of its being incom- prehensible, but because it existed in the Written Word and in the Traditions and Doctrines of the Church, although it had accidentally turned out to be incom- prehensible. The maxim of which we now speak, on the contrary, sets up the Incomprehensible as the Highest, tm its own character of incomprehensibility, and even on account of its incomprehensibility; and it is thus a wholly new and unprecedented phenomenon peculiar to the Third Age.
When the matter does not end in this mere acceptance of the Incomprehensible generally,—so that it might be left to each man to determine for himself what is incom- prehensible to him;—but when besides this, as might be expected from the dogmatic Spirit of the Age, a specific ‘ 126 LECTURE VIII.
and defined formula of the Incomprehensible is set forth and proposed for our acceptance; the question presents itself— How does this phenomenon arise? Not from the elder superstition,—for this has now passed away so far as the cultivated classes are concerned, and its residue is only to be found in Theology;—nor from Theology,—for this is, as we have already seen, something altogether different. It is through insight into the emptiness of the previous system, and thus by means of reasoning, that this new system has arisen; it must therefore establish its Incomprehensible by means of reasoning and free thought, which here, however, assume the forms of In- vention and Imagination:— Hence the founders and representatives of this system will bear the name of Philosophers.
The production of an Unknown and Incomprehensible, by means of unrestrained Imagination, has always been named Mysticism; we shall therefore comprehend this new system in its essential nature, if we set forth dis- tinctly what Mysticism is, and wherein it consists.
Mysticism has this in common with true Reason as Knowledge;—it does not recognise the conceptions of mere sensuous Experience as the Highest, but strives to raise itself above all Experience;—and since there is nothing beyond the domain of Experience but the world of Pure Thought, it builds up a Universe for itself from Pure Thought alone,—as we have already said of Reason as Knowledge. The defenders of Experience as the only source of truth thus hit the mark as closely as they pos- sibly can, and more closely perhaps than they themselves are aware of, when they denominate him a Mystic who, on whatever ground, denies the exclusive validity which they claim for Experience;—for this Mysticism, which they can only apprehend by an effort of fancy, and from which they have so carefully guarded themselves before- hand by strict adherence to Experience,—this Mysticism, MYSTICISM AS A PHENOMENON OF THE THIRD AGE, 127 I say, does indeed raise itself above Experience;—whilst the other way of rising above Experience,—namely, by Knowledge,—has never presented itself to them in its .trne character, and on this side they have had, as yet, no temptations to overcome.
_ In this firm reliance on the world of Thought, as the Highest and most excellent, Reason as Knowledge and Mysticism are completely at one.
The distinction between them depends solely upon the nature of the thought from which they respectively pro- ceed. The fundamental thought of Reason as Knowledge —which because it is a fundamental thought, is abso- lutely one and complete in itself—is, in the view of Reason, thoroughly clear and distinct; and from it Reason per- ceives, in the same unchangeable clearness, the immediate procession of all the multiplicity of particular thoughts; and, since things can only exist in thought, of the multi- plicity of all particular things,—making them, in this procession, the subject of immediate apprehension;—this even to the limits of all clearness; and, as these limits must likewise be conceived of as necessary limits, even to the boundaries of the Unknown. Further, this thought does not spontaneously present itself to Reason, but must be pursued with labour, assiduity, and care; for Reason must never rest satisfied with anything which is, as yet, imperfectly understood, but must continually ascend to a higher principle of interpretation, and again to a higher, until at last there shall be but one pure mass of Light. So it is with the Thought of Reason. But the thoughts from which Mysticism may arise,—for these are very different in the different individuals who entertain them, and are even very variable in one and the same individual, —these thoughts can never be clearly referred to any fun- damental principle. On this account they are only to a certain extent clear even in themselves; and, so far as regards their connexion with each other, they are abso- 128 LECTURE VIII.
lutely unintelligible. On this account, too, these thoughts can never be proved, nor attain any greater degree of clearness than that which they already possess; but they may be postulated,—or, should the language of true Rea- son be already current, the reader or hearer may be direc- ted to the ‘Intellectual Intuition’; which Jatter, however, has a totally different meaning in Reason from that which it bears in Mysticism. For the same reason, no account can be given of the method in which these thoughts have been discovered, because, in reality, they have not been discovered by means of a systematic ascent to a higher principle, like the primitive thoughts of Reason,—but are, in truth, the mere conceits of Chance.
And this Chance,—what is it at bottom? Although those who are in its service can never explain it, yet can- not we explain it? It is a blind thinking-power, which, like all otber blind powers, is, in the final analysis, only a force of Nature from the control of which free thought sets us at liberty; depending, like all other natural conditions, upon the state of health, the temperament, the mode of life, the studies, &c. of the individual;—so that these Mystics, with their fascinating philosophy, notwithstanding their boast of having raised themselves above Nature, and their profound contempt for all Empiricism, are them- selves but a somewhat. unusual empirical phenomenon, without having the least suspicion of the real state of the case.
The remark that the principles of Mysticism are mere accidental conceits, imposes upon me the duty of distin- guishing it from another, and, in some respects, similar process of thought;—and I embrace this opportunity of more strictly defining it. In the domain of Physics, namely, not only the most important experiments, but even the most searching and comprehensive theories are often the results of chance, or it may be said, of mere conjecture; and so must it be, until Reason be sufficiently MYSTICISM AS A PHENOMENON OF THE THIRD AGE. 129 extended and spread abroad, and have fulfilled the duty which it owes to Physics, as strictly defined in our last lecture. But the true Physical Inquirer always proceeds beyond the Phenomena, seeking only the Law in the Unity of which the Phenomena may be comprehended; and as soon as he las reached the primitive hought, returning again to the Phenomena in order to test the Thought by its application to them;—undoubtedly with the firm conviction that the validity of the Thought can only be established by its sufficiency for the explanation of the Phenomena, and with the determination to throw it aside should it not be verified in this way. It is verified; and he is thereby satisfied that his couception has been no arbitrary conceit, but a true Thought revealed by Nature herself; —and thus his inspiration is not Mysticism but is to be named Genius. Quite otherwise is it with the Mystic: —he neither proceeds outwards from Empiricism, nor yet does he recognise Empiricism as the judge of his fancies,—but he demands that Nature should regulate herself by his thoughts;—in which he should be per- fectly justified, had he only got hold of the right Thoughts, and if he knew how far this a prior? conception of Nature can go, at what point it comes to an end, and where Experiment alone can decide.
These fancies of the Mystic, I have said, are neither clear in themselves, nor are they proved, or even capable of theo- retical proof which indeed is renounced in the avowal of Incomprehensibility; but yet they may be true, and may therefore -be confirmed by our natural sense of Truth, provided they fall within its sphere. How is it then, that they are believed in by their original authors themselves? I am bound to solve this question before we proceed further.
These fancies are, at bottom, as we have shown above, the products of a blind natural thinking-power; which power must necessarily manifest itself in these particular i 130 LECTURE VII.
circumstances and in these particular individuals exactly as it does manifest itself;—must, I say, unless the individual were to elevate himself above the mere natural thinking- power to free and clear Thought; and so foreclose this necessity. If this do not happen, then the necessary con- sequence is as follows:—every blind power of Nature is constantly active, although invisibly and unconsciously to man; it is therefore to be anticipated that this think- ing-power, as tbe essential nature of this individual, sbould have already manifested itself in many shapes within him, and thus from time to time have passed through his mind without its principle being discovered, or any distinct resolution being taken as to its adoption. Thus he goes on passively, or listening attentively to the voice of Nature thinking within him; till at last the true centre-thought of the whole reveals itself; and he is not a little astonished to find unity, light, connexion, and confirmation spread over all his previous fancies; never imagining for a moment that these earlier fancies were but shapes or branches of that ever-active thought which has now come forth into light, with which they must therefore unquestionably harmonize. He satisfies himself of the truth of the whole by its sufficiency to afford an explanation of all the parts; for he does not know that they are only parts of this whole, and have only an existence by means of the whole. He accepts Imagination as Truth because it coincides with so many earlier Imaginations, which, without any suspicion on his part, have come to him from the same source.
Since this imagination of the Mystic is but a thinking- power of Nature, it returns upon Nature, attaches itself to her soil, and attempts to exercise an activity there; in one word, Mysticism is, and always must be, a Philosophy of Nature (‘ Natur-Philosophie”) It is necessary that we should carefully consider these latter remarks, in order strictly to distinguish between Mysticism and something MYSTICISM AS A PHENOMENON OF THE THIRD AGE. 131 else which is often inconsiderately mistaken for it. Either the mere sensuous instinct, the desire of personal preservation and of physical well-being, is the only im- pulse to the thoughts as well as to the actions of men,— and then Thought is only the servant of Desire, and only exists for the purpose of observing and choosing the means of its satisfaction; or, Thought is living and active in itself and by its own proper power. Upon the first supposition is founded the whole wisdom of the Third Age, which we have already sufficiently described, and need not further refer to at present. On the second supposition there are, on the other hand, two, or it may be, three cases. Namely, this self-existent and active Thought is either the mere Sensuous Individuality of Man clothing itself in the form of Thought, and is thus still a mere sensuous desire, only.disguised, and therefore not re- cognised as such,—and then it is Mysticism:—or, it is Pure Thought flowing forth from itself without any de- pendence on Sense, not recognising -individual persons, but always comprehending the Race, as we have already sufficiently described it in our second, third, and fourth lectures;—z.e. the Idea. Is it the Idea which is present? —then again, as we have already said, it may manifest itself in two different ways:—either, in one of its primi- tive forms which we previously indicated; and in this case it struggles irresistibly onward to direct outward activity, streams forth in the personal life of the man, extinguishing all his sensuous impulses and desires; and then he is an Artist, Hero, Man of Science, or Religious Man;—or, the same Pure Thought may manifest itself in its absolute unity; and then it is easily recognisable as the one, perfectly clear, and undisturbed thought of the Higher Reason, which in itself impels to no activity in the World of Sense, but only to free activity in the World of Pure Thought; or, in other words, is true and genuine Speculation. Mysticism will not of itself act in direct 132 LECTURE VIII.
opposition to the Life in the Idea; but that it may act in conformity with it, requires a specific determination of the will moved thereto by desire. Thus Mysticism is still Speculation; it does not, however, comprehend the Race as such but only Individuality, because it proceeds only from the Individual and refers only to that whereon the life of the Individual depends, namely, to Physical Nature,—and it is thus necessarily Speculation founded on Nature (Natur-Spekulation.) Hence the Life in the Idea, which the uneducated man presumes to call Mys- ticism, is in reality very widely and distinctly separated from Mysticism. We have already sufficiently distinguished Mysticism from true and genuine Speculation; but in order that we may be able to distinguish this true and genuine Speculation from its opposite,—that of the Mystic, with reference to the Philosophy of Nature (Natur- Philosophie),—we ought to be already in possession of the former, and this is not the business of the unlearned public. Upon this matter,—and therefore upon. the ultimate principles of Nature,—no true Scholar will think of communicating with the general public; the Speculative theory of Nature presupposes scientific culture, and can only be comprehended by the scientific intellect; and the general and unlearned public never stands in need of it. But with respect to that whereon the true Scholar can and ought to communicate with the general public,—with respect to Ideas,—there is an infallible test whereby this public may determine for itself whether any doctrine which is presented to it is, or is not, mere Mysticism. Let it be asked,—‘ Has this doctrine a direct and immediate bearing on action, or does it rest on a fixed and immovable constitution of things?’ Thus, for example, the question which I put to you at the beginning of these lectures, and upon the assumed answer to which, the whole of my subsequent discourses have proceeded as their true principle:—this question, MYSTICISM AS A PHENOMENON OF THE THIRD AGE. 133 whether you could refrain from approving, respecting, and admiring a Life wholiy devoted to the Idea?—this question refers exclusively to an action, and to your judgment upon that action; and therefore, while we were elevated above the world of mere sensuous Experience, it is evident that there was nevertheless nothing of Mysticism in our inquiries. To adduce a still more marked example:—The Doctrine of a Perfect God; in whose nature nothing arbitrary or changeable can have a place; in whose Highest Being we all live, and in this Life may aud ought at all times to be blessed;— this Doc- trine, which ignorant men think they have sufficiently demolished when they have proclaimed: it to be Mys- ticism, is by no means Mysticism, for it has an immediate reference to human action, and indeed to the inmost spinit which ought to inspire and guide all our actions. It can only become Mysticism when it is associated with the pretext that the insight into this truth proceeds from a certain inward and mysterious light, which is not accessible to all men, but is bestowed only upon a few favourites chosen from among the rest:—in which pretext the real Mysticism consists, for it betrays a self-complacent assumption of personal merit, and a pride in mere sensuous Individuality. Thus Mysticism, besides the essential and inward criterion which can only be thoroughly discovered by true Speculation, has also an outward mark by which it may be recognised;—this, namely, that it is never a Moral or Religious Philosophy, to both of which it is, in its true character, wholly antagonistic; (what it calls -Religion is only a deification of Nature)—but it is always a mere Philosophy of Nature;—that is, it strives to discover, or believes that it has discovered, certain iys- terious and hitherto inconceivable properties in the principles of Nature, by the employment of which it endeavours to produce effects surpassing the ordinary course of things. Such, I say, is Mysticism,—neces- 134 LECTURE VIII.