Fichte died as he had lived, — the priest of know ledge, the apostle of freedom, the martyr of humanity. He belongs to those Great Men whose lives are an ever lasting possession to mankind, and whose words the world does not wilh'ngly let die. His character stands written in his life, a massive but severely simple whole. It has no parts; — the depth and earnestness on which ESTIMATE OF HIS CHARACTER. 1 67 it rests, speak forth alike in his thoughts, words, and actions. No man of his time — few perhaps of any time — exercised a more powerful, spirit-stirring influ ence over the minds of his fellow-countrymen. The impulse which he communicated to the national thought extended far beyond the sphere of his personal influence; — it has awakened, — it will still awaken, — high emotion and manly resolution in thousands who never heard his voice. The ceaseless effort of his life was to rouse men to a sense of the divinity of their own nature; — to fix their thoughts upon a spiritual life as the only true and real life; — to teach them to look upon all else as mere show and unreality; and thus to lead them to constant effort after the highest Ideal of purity, virtue, independence, and self-denial. To this ennobling enterprise he consecrated his being; — to it he devoted his gigantic powers of thought, his iron will, his resistless eloquence. But he taught it also in deeds more eloquent than words. In the strong reality of his life, — in his intense love for all things beautiful and true, — in his incorruptible integrity and heroic devotion to the right, we see a living manifestation of his principles. His life is the true counterpart of his philosophy; — it is that of a strong, free, incorrupt ible man. And with all the sternness of his morality, he is full of gentle and generous sentiments; of deep, overflowing sympathies. No tone of love, no soft breathing of tenderness, fall unheeded on that high royal soul, but in its calm sublimity find a welcome and a home. Even his hatred is the offspring of a higher love. Truly indeed has he been described by one of our own country's brightest ornaments as a " colossal, adamantine spirit, standing erect and clear, like a Cato Major among degenerate men; fit to have 168 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
been the teacher of the Stoa, and to have discoursed of beauty and virtue in the groves of Academe." But the sublimity of his intellect casts no shade on the soft current of his affections, which flows, pure and un broken, through the whole course of his life, to enrich, fertilize, and adorn it. In no other man of modern times do we find the stern grandeur of ancient virtue so blended with the kindlier humanities of our nature, which flourish best under a gentler civilization. We prize his philosophy deeply, — it is to us an invaluable possession, for it seems the noblest exposition to which we have yet listened of human nature and divine truth, — but with reverent thankfulness we acknowledge a still higher debt, for he has left behind him the best gift which man can bequeath to man, — a brave, heroic human life.
In the first churchyard from the Oranienburg gate of Berlin, stands a tall obelisk with this inscription: — THE TEACHEES SHALL SHINE AS THE BRIGHTNESS OF THE FIRMAMENT; AND THEY THAT TURN MANY TO RIGHTEOUSNESS AS THE STARS FOR EVER AND EVER.
It marks the grave of FICHTE. The faithful partner of his life sleeps at his feet.
THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
te • JOHANN GOTTLIEB F1CIITE.
PREFACE.
THESE LECTURES were delivered last Summer before a considerable number of the young men studying at this University. They form the introduction to a whole whicli the Author intends to complete, and, when time permits, to lay before the public. A motive — which to mention here would contribute neither to a just estimation of these pages, nor to a right understanding of them — induced him to allow these first five Lectures to be published by them selves. Their being printed just as they were delivered, without the alteration of a single word, must be his excuse for many inaccuracies of expression. In consequence of other occupations, he was unable, even at first, to give to these discourses the polish which he desired. Declamation is a valuable auxiliary in oral communication. To alter them for the press was for a similar reason impossible.
There are in these Lectures many assertions which may not please all classes of readers. But for this the Author is not to blame; — in all his inquiries he has troubled himself very little as to what was likely to please his 172 PREFACE.
hearers or be disagreeable to them: Truth alone has been his object, — and what he, according to his best know ledge, held to be true, that he has boldly declared, so far as he was able.
But besides that class of readers who have reasons for their dissatisfaction with what I advance in these Lectures, there are others who hold such speculations as at best useless, because they cannot be carried out into practice, and because they find nothing in the actual world, as it is now constituted, at all corresponding thereto; — indeed it is to be feared that the greater number of otherwise honest, respectable, well-behaved, sober-minded people, Avill thus judge of them. For although, in all ages, those who have been capable of raising themselves to ideas, have always found themselves in a minority, — yet, for reasons which I may well be excused for withholding here, their number has never been less than at the present time. Whilst, within the circle which common experience has drawn around us, men take larger and more general views, and pass more accurate judgments on the phenomena presented to them, than perhaps at any former period; the majority are com pletely misled and dazzled, so soon as they take a single step beyond this limit. If it be impossible to re-kindle in such minds the once-extinguished sparks of higher genius, we must let them remain without disturbance within that circle; and in so far as they are there useful and necessary.
we must not derogate from their value in and for such a sphere. But when they desire to draw down to their own level all to which they cannot raise themselves; — when, for example, they would insist that everything which is printed PREFACE. 173 should be made as practically useful as a cookery-book, or a ready-reckoner, or a service-regulation, and decry every thing which cannot so be used, — then indeed do they perpetrate a great wrong.
That the Ideal cannot be manifested in the Actual world, we know as well as they do, — perhaps better. All we maintain is, that the Actual must be judged by the Ideal, and modified in accordance with it by those who feel themselves capable of such a task. Be it granted that they cannot convince themselves of this; — being what they are, they lose very little thereby, and Humanity loses nothing. This alone becomes clear, that they have not been reckoned on in the great plan for the ennoblement of Humanity. This will assuredly proceed on its glorious way; — over them will kindly Nature watch, vouchsafing them, in proper season, rain and sunshine, fitting nourishment and undis turbed digestion, and therewithal comfortable thoughts.
JENA, Michaelmas 1794.
LECTURE I. THE ABSOLUTE VOCATION OF MAN.
LECTURE II. THE VOCATION OF MAN IN SOCIETY.
LECTURE III. THE DISTINCTION OF CLASSES IN SOCIETY.
LECTURE IV. THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
LECTURE V.
EXAMINATION OF ROUSSEAU'S DOCTRINE CONCERNING THE INFLUENCE OF ART AND SCIENCE ON THE WELL-BEING OF MAN.
( 175) LECTURE I.
THE ABSOLUTE VOCATION OF MAN.
THE purpose of the Lectures which I commence to day is in part known to you. I would answer, or rather I would prompt you to answer for yourselves, the following questions: — What is the vocation of the Scholar? — what is his relation to Humanity as a whole, as well as to particular classes of men? — hy what means can he most surely fulfil his high vocation?
The Scholar is invested with a distinctive character only in so far as he is contrasted with other men; the idea of his calling arises from comparison, from his relation to Society at large, — by which we understand not the State merely, but generally that aggregate of reasonable men who exist near each other in space, and are thus placed in mutual relations with each other.
Hence the vocation of the Scholar, considered as such, is only conceivable in society, and thus the an swer to the question, " What is the vocation of the Scholar?" presupposes the answer to another question, " What is the vocation of man in Society?"
Again: the answer to tlu's question presupposes the 176 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
answer to another still higher; namely this, — " What is the vocation of Man?" — i.e. of Man considered simply as man, — according to the mere abstract idea of Humanity; isolated and without any relation which is not included in the absolute idea of himself?
I may be permitted to say to you at present without proof, what is doubtless already known to many among you, and what is obscurely, but not the less strongly, felt by others, — that all philosophy, all human thought and teaching, all your studies, especially all that I shall address to you, can tend to nothing else than to the answering of these questions, and particularly of the last and highest of them, — What is the absolute vocation of Man? and what are the means by which he can most surely fulfil it?
Philosophy is not essentially necessary to the mere feeling of this vocation; but the whole of philosophy, and indeed a fundamental and all-embracing philosophy, is implied in a distinct, clear, and complete insight into it. Yet this absolute vocation of Man is the subject of to-day's lecture. You will consequently perceive that what I have to say on this subject on the present occasion cannot be traced down from its first principles unless I were now to treat of all philosophy. But I can appeal to your own inward sense of truth, and establish it thereon. You perceive likewise, that as the question which I shall answer in my public lectures, — What is the vocation of the Scholar? or what is the same thing, as will appear in due time, the voca tion of the highest, truest man? — is the last object of all philosophical inquiries; — so this question, — What is the absolute vocation of Man? — the answer to which I intend to investigate fundamentally in my private LECTURE I. 177 lectures, but only to point out very briefly to-day, — is the first object of such investigations. I now proceed to the answer to this question.
What the properly Spiritual in man — the pure Ego, considered absolutely in itself, — isolated and apart from all relation to anything out of itself, — would be? — this question is unanswerable, and strictly taken is self- contradictory. It is not indeed true that the pure Ego is a product of the Non-Ego — (so I denominate every thing which is conceived of as existing external to the Ego, distinguished from, and opposed to it:) — it is not true, I say, that the pure Ego is a product of the Non-Ego; — such a doctrine would indicate a transcen dental materialism which is entirely opposed to reason; —but it is certainly true, and will be fully proved in its proper place, that the Ego is not, and can never become, conscious of itself, except under its empirical determinations; and that these empirical determina tions necessarily imply something external to the Ego. Even the body of man, — that which he calls his body, — is something external to the Ego. Without this relation he would be no longer a man, but something absolutely inconceivable by us, if we can call that something which is to us inconceivable. Thus to con sider man absolutely and by himself, does not mean, either here or elsewhere in these lectures, to consider him as a pure Ego, without relation to anything ex ternal to the Ego; but only to think of him apart from all relation to reasonable beings like himself.
And, so considered, — What is his vocation? — what belongs to him as Man, that does not belong to those known existences which are not men? — by what mark is he to be distinguished from all we do not 178 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
call man amongst the beings with which we are ac quainted?
Since I must set out from something positive, and as I cannot here proceed from the absolute postulate — the axiom "I am, "-—I must lay down, hypothetically in the meantime, a principle which exists indestructibly in the feelings of all men, — which is the result of all philosophy, — which may be clearly proved, as I will prove it in my private lectures; — the principle, that as surely as man is a rational being, he is the end of his own existence; — i. e. he does not exist to the end that something else may be, but he exists absolutely for his own sake, — his being is its own ultimate object; — or, what is the same thing, man cannot, without contradiction to himself, demand an object of his ex istence. He is, because he is. This character of absolute being — of existence for his own sake alone, — is his characteristic or vocation, in so far as he is con sidered solely as a rational being.
But there belongs to man not only absolute being, — being for itself, — but also particular determinations of this being: — he not only is, but he is something defi nite; — he does not merely say, — "I am," — but he adds, — " I am this or that." So far as his absolute existence is concerned, he is a reasonable being; — in so far as he is something beyond this, What is he? This question we must answer.
That which he is in this respect, he is, not primarily because he himself exists, but because something other than himself exists. The empirical self-consciousness, — that is, the consciousness of a determinate vocation, — is not possible except on the supposition of a Non- Ego, as we have already said, and in the proper place LECTURE I. 179 LECTURE I. 179 will prove. This Non-Ego must approach and influence him through his passive capacity, which we call sense. Thus in so far as man possesses a special existence, he is a sensuous being. But still, as we have already said, he is also a reasonable being; — and his Reason must not be superseded by Sense, but both must exist in harmony with each other. In this connexion the prin ciple propounded above, — Man is because he is, — is changed into the following, — Whatever Man is, that he should be, solely because he is; — i. e. all that he is should proceed from his pure Ego, — from his own simple personality; — he should be all that he is, abso lutely because he is an Ego, — and whatever he cannot be solely upon that ground, he should absolutely not be. This as yet obscure formula we shall immediately illustrate.
The pure Ego can only be conceived of negatively, — as the opposite of the Non-Ego, the character of which is multiplicity, — consequently as perfect and absolute unity; — it is thus always one and the same, — always identical with itself. Hence the above for mula may also be expressed thus, — Man should always be at one with himself, — he should never contradict his own being. The pure Ego can never stand in opposi tion to itself, for there is in it no diversity, it con stantly remains one and the same; but the empirical Ego, determined and determinable by outward things, may contradict itself; and as often as it does so, it is a sure sign that it is not determined according to the form of the pure Ego, — not by itself, but by something external to itself. It should not be so; — for man is his own end, — he should determine himself, and never allow himself to be determined by anything foreign to 180 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
himself; — he should be what he is, because he wills it, and ought to will it. The determination of the em pirical Ego should be such as may endure for ever. I may here, in passing, and for the sake of illustration merely, express the fundamental principle of morality in the following formula: — " So act that thou mayest look upon the dictate of thy will as an eternal law to thyself."
The ultimate vocation of every finite, rational being is thus absolute unity, constant identity, perfect har mony with himself. This absolute identity is the form of the pure Ego, and the one true form of it; — or rather, by the possibility to conceive of this identity will the expression of that form be recognised. What ever determination can be conceived of as enduring eternally, is in conformity with the pure form of the Ego. Let not this be understood partially. Not the Will alone should be always at one with itself, — this belongs to morality only; — but all the powers of man, which are essentially but one power, and only become distinguished in their application to different objects, should all accord in perfect unity and harmony with each other.
The empirical determinations of our Ego depend, however, for the most part, not upon ourselves but upon something external to us. The Will is, indeed, within its own circle — i.e. in the compass of the objects to which it can be applied after they have become known to man — perfectly free; — as will be strictly proved at the proper time. But sense, and the con ceptions in which it is presupposed, are not free; they depend upon things external to the Ego, the character of which is multiplicity, not identity. If the Ego is to LECTURE I. 181 constantly at one with itself in this respect also, it must strive to operate directly upon the things themselves, on which the sensations and perceptions of man depend; —man must endeavour to modify these, and to bring them into harmony with the pure form of his Ego, so that his conceptions of them likewise, so far as these depend upon the nature of their objects,, may har monize with that form. This modification of things according to our necessary ideas, is not however pos sible by mere Will, but requires also a certain skill, which is acquired and improved by practice.
Further, what is still more important, our empirical determinable Ego receives, from that unrestricted in fluence of external things upon it to which we subject ourselves without reservation so long as our Reason is still undeveloped, certain tendencies which cannot possibly harmonize with the form of our pure Ego, since they proceed from things external to us. In order to eradicate these, and restore the pure original form, Will is not sufficient of itself, but we need, besides, that skill which is acquired and improved by practice.
The acquisition of this skill, — partly to subdue and eradicate the improper tendencies which have arisen within us prior to the awakening of Eeason and the consciousness of our own independence, — partly to modify external things, and alter them in accordance with our ideas, — the acquisition of this skill, I say, is called Culture; and the particular degree of it, when acquired, is likewise so denominated. Culture differs only in degree, but it is capable of infinite gradations. It is the last and highest means to the attainment of the great end of man, when he is considered as of a 182 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
composite nature, rational and sensuous; — complete harmony with himself: — it is in itself his ultimate end when he is considered only as a sensuous being. Sense should be cultivated: — that is the highest and ultimate purpose which can be entertained with re spect to it.
The final result of all we have said is as follows: — The perfect harmony of man with himself, — and that this may be practicable, the harmony of all external things with his necessary practical ideas of them, — the ideas which determine what these things should be; — this is the ultimate and highest purpose of human existence. This harmony is, to use the language of the critical philosophy, the Highest Good; which High est Good, considered absolutely, as follows from what we have already said, has no parts, but is perfectly simple and indivisible, — it is the complete harmony of a rational being with himself. But in reference to a rational being who is dependent on external things, it may be considered two-fold; — as the harmony of the Will with the idea of an Eternal Will, or, moral good ness; and as the harmony of external things with our Will (our rational will, of course), or happiness. It is thus, let it be remembered in passing, so far from being true that man is determined to moral goodness by the desire for happiness, that the idea of happiness itself and the desire for it, rather arise in the first place out of the moral nature of man. Not, That which produces happiness is good; — but, That only which is good produces happiness. Without morality, happiness is impossible. Agreeable sensations may indeed exist without it, or even in opposition to it, — and in the proper place we shall see why this is the case; — but LECTURE I. 183 these are not happiness: frequently they are much opposed to it.
To subject all irrational nature to himself, to rule over it without restraint and according to his own laws, is the ultimate end of man; which ultimate end is per fectly unattainable, and must continue to be so, unless he were to cease to be man, and become God. It is a part of the idea of man that his ultimate end must be unattainable; — the way to it endless. Hence it is not the vocation of man to attain this end. But he may and should constantly approach nearer to it; — and thus the unceasing approximation to this end is his true vocation as man; i. e. as a rational but finite, as a sensuous but free being. If, as we are surely entitled to do, we call this complete harmony with one's self perfection, in the highest meaning of the word; then perfection is the highest unattainable end of man, whilst eternal perfecting is his vocation. He exists, that he may become ever morally better himself, and make all around him physically, and, if he be considered as a member of society, morally better also, — and thus augment his own happiness without limit.
This is the vocation of man, considered as isolated, i. e. apart from ah1 relation to reasonable beings like himself. We however are not thus isolated, and al though I cannot now direct your attention to the general inter-union of all rational beings with each other, yet must I cast a glance upon the relation with you, into which I enter to-day. It is this noble vo cation which I have now briefly pointed out, that I would elevate into perfect clearness in the minds of many aspiring young men — that I desire to make the preeminent object, and constant guide of your 184 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
lives; — young men who are destined on their part again to operate most powerfully on humanity, — in narrower or wider circles, by teaching or action, or both, to extend one day to others the culture they have themselves received, and everywhere to raise our common brotherhood to a higher stage of culture; — young men, in teaching whom I in all probability teach yet unborn millions of our race. If some among you have kindly believed that I feel the dignity of this my peculiar vocation, — that in all my speculations and teaching I shall make it my highest aim to con tribute to the culture and elevation of humanity in you, and in all with whom you may ever have a com mon point of contact, — that I hold all philosophy and all knowledge which does not tend towards this object, as vain and worthless; — if you have so thought of me, I may perhaps venture to say that you have judged rightly of my desire. How far my ability may cor respond to this wish, rests not altogether on me; — it depends in part upon circumstances which are beyond our control. It depends in part also on you; — on your attention, which I solicit; on your private dili gence, on which I reckon with trustful assurance; on your confidence, to which I commend myself, and which I shall strive to justify by my deeds.
( 185 ) LECTURE II.
THE VOCATION OF MAN IN SOCIETY.
THERE are many questions which philosophy must answer before she can assume the character of know ledge and science: — questions which are shunned by the dogmatist, and which the sceptic only ventures to point out at the risk of being charged with irration ality or wickedness, or both.
If I would not treat in a shallow and superficial manner a subject respecting which I believe that 1 possess some fundamental knowledge, — if I would not conceal, and pass over in silence, difficulties which 1 see right well, — it will be my fate in these Lectures to touch upon many of those hitherto almost undis turbed questions, without, however, being able to ex haust them completely; and, at the risk of being misunderstood or misinterpreted, to give mere hints towards more extended thought, mere directions to wards more perfect knowledge, where I would rather have probed the subject to the bottom. If I supposed that there were among you many of those popular philosophers, who easily solve all difficulties without labour or reflection, by the aid of what they call sound Common Sense, I would not often ascend this chair without anxiety.
K 2 186 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
Among these questions may be classed the two fol lowing, which must be answered, with others, before any natural right is so much as possible; — first, By what authority does man call a particular portion of the physical world his body? how does he come to consider this body as belonging to his Ego, whereas it is altogether opposed to it? — and, second, On what grounds does man assume and admit the existence around him of rational beings like himself, whereas such beings are by no means immediately revealed to him in consciousness?
I have to-day to establish the Vocation of Man in Society; and the accomplishment of this task presup poses the solution of the latter question. By Society I mean the relation of reasonable beings to each other. The idea of Society is not possible without the suppo sition that rational beings do really exist around us, and without some characteristic marks whereby we may distinguish them from all other beings that are not rational, and consequently do not belong to Society. How do we arrive at this supposition? — what are these distinctive marks? This is the question which I must answer in the first place.