ficiencies of each individual will be borne by the com munity, and will thus be reduced to an infinitely small quantity: — or, to express this in another form more generally applicable, — the aim of all culture of human capacity is_Jr> s^bjor.t Nature (as I have defined this expression) to Reason; to place Experience, in so far as it is not dependent on the laws of our perceptive faculties, in harmony with our necessary practical ideas of Reason. Thus Reason stands in continual strife with Mature. This warfare can never come to an end, unless we were to become gods; but the influence of Nature can and ought to be gradually weakened, — the dominion of Reason constantly made more powerful; — so that the latter shall gain victory after victory over the former. One individual may perhaps struggle successfully against Nature at his own particular point of contact with her, while at all other points he may be completely subject to her sway. But now society is combined like one man: what the individual could not accomplish by himself, all are enabled to perform by the combined powers of the community. Each indeed strives singly, but the enfeeblement of Nature which is the result of the common struggle, and the partial triumph which each gains over her in his own department, come to the aid of all. Thus even from the physical inequality of individuals arises a new security for the bond which unites them all in one body; the pressure of individual wants, and the still sweeter impulse to supply the wants of others, bind them more closely together; and Nature has strength ened the power of Reason, even while she attempted to weaken it.
Thus far everything proceeds in its natural order: 204 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
We have found different characters, various in the kind and degree of their cultivation; but we have as yet no different classes, for we have not yet pointed out any special determination of free activity, — any voluntary selection of a particular kind of culture. I say, we have not yet been able to produce any special determination of free activity; — but let not this be erroneously or partially understood. The social im pulse, considered generally, addresses itself to freedom only; it merely instigates, — it does not compel. We may oppose, and even subdue it; — we may, through misanthropic selfishness, separate ourselves from our fellow-men, and refuse to receive anything at the hands of society, that we may not have to render back any thing in return; — we may, from rude animalism, for get the freedom of society, and look upon it only as something subject to our will, because we have no higher idea of ourselves than as subjects of the power of Nature. But this is not the question here. On the supposition that man obeys the social impulse generally, it is necessary that under its guidance he should impart the advantages which he possesses to those who have need of them, and receive those of which he himself stands in need from those who possess them. And for this purpose there is no need of any 1 particular determination or modification of the social )' impulse by a new act of freedom, — which is all that I meant to affirm.
The characteristic distinction is this: — Under the conditions now laid down, I as an individual give my self up to Nature for the one-sided cultivation of some particular capacity, because / must do so; I have no choice in the matter, but blindly follow her leading.
LECTURE III. 205 LECTURE III. 205 I take all that she gives me, but I cannot take that which she does not give; I neglect no opportunity of cultivating myself as completely as I can, but I do not create such opportunity, because I cannot create it. If, on the contrary, I choose a class, — a class being understood to be something chosen by free will, as it should be according to the common use of language, — if I choose a class, I must indeed have first become subject to Nature before it was possible for me to choose; for to that end different impulses must be awakened within me, different capacities elevated into consciousness; but in the choice itself I determine henceforward to pay no respect to certain motives which Nature may perchance offer to me, in order that I may apply all my powers and all the gifts of Nature to the exclusive development of one or more particular capacities; and by the particular capacity to the cul- \ tivation of which I thus devote myself by free choice, will my class or condition in society be determined. ) The question arises, — Ought I to choose a parti cular class? or, if the demand be not imperative, — Dare I devote myself to a particular class, — that is, to a partial culture? If I ought, — if it be absolute duty, then it must be possible to educe from the highest laws of Eeason an impulse directed towards the selec tion of a class, as we may educe from these laws the impulse towards society in general. If I only may do this, then it will not be possible to educe such an im pulse from the laws of Reason, but only a permission; — and for the determination of the will to the actual choice thus permitted by Reason, some empirical data must be assigned, by means of which not a law, but T 206 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
only a rule of prudence, may be laid down. How this matter stands will be seen upon further inquiry.
The law says, — "Cultivate all thy faculties com pletely and uniformly, so far as thou canst;" — but it does not determine whether I shall exercise them di rectly upon Mature, or indirectly through intercourse with my fellow-men. On this point the choice is thus left entirely to my own prudence. The law says, — " Subdue Nature to thy purposes;" — but it does not say that if I should find Nature already sufficiently adapted to certain of my purposes by other men, I should nevertheless myself adapt it to all the possible purposes of humanity. Hence the law does not forbid me to choose a particular class; but neither does it enjoin me to do so, for precisely the same reason which prevents the prohibition. I am now in the field of Free -Will; I may choose a class, and I must now look out for quite other grounds of determination than those which are derived immediately from Reason, on which to resolve the question, — not "What class shall I choose?" — (of this we shall speak at another time) — but, " Shall I choose any class at all, or shall I not?"
As things are at present, man is born in society. He finds Nature no longer rude, but already prepared in many respects for his purposes. He finds a multi tude of men employed in its different departments, cultivating it on every side for the use of rational beings. He finds much already done which otherwise he would have had to do for himself. He might per haps enjoy a very pleasant existence without ever ap plying his own powers immediately to Nature; he might even attain a kind of perfection by the enjoy ment of what society has already accomplished, and in LECTURE III. 207 particular of what it has done for its own cultivation. But this may not be; — he must at least endeavour to repay his debt to society; he must take his place among men; he must at least strive to forward in some respect the perfection of the race which has done so much for him.
And to that end two ways present themselves: either he may determine to cultivate Nature on all sides; — and, in this case, he would perhaps require to apply his whole life, or many lives if he had them, even to acquire a knowledge of what has been already done before him by others, and of what remains to do; and thus his life would be lost to the human race, — not indeed from evil intent, but from lack of wisdom: — or he may take up some particular department of Nature, with the previous history of which he is per haps best acquainted, and for the cultivation of which he is best adapted by natural capacity and social training, and devote himself exclusively to that. In the latter case, he leaves his own culture in its other departments to Society, whose culture in that depart ment which he has chosen for himself is the sole object of his resolves, his labours, his desires; — and thus he has selected a class, and his doing so is perfectly legiti mate. But still this act of freedom is, like all others, subject to the universal moral law, in so far as that law is the rule of our actions; or to the categorical imperative, which I may thus express: — " Never per mit the determinations of thy will to be at variance with thyself;" — a law which, as expressed in this for mula, may be fulfilled by every one, since the determi nations of our will do not depend upon Nature, but on ourselves alone.
208 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
The choice of a class is a free choice; therefore no man whatever ought to be compelled to any particular class, nor to be shut out from any. Every individual action, as well as every general arrangement, which proceeds on such compulsion, is unjust. It is unwise to force a man into one class, or to exclude him from another; because no man can have a perfect knowledge of the peculiar capacities of another, and because a member is often lost to society altogether, in conse quence of being thrust into an improper place. But laying this out of view, such a course is unjust in itself, for it sets our deed itself in opposition to our practical conception of it. We wish to give society a member, and we make a tool; we wish to have a free fellow - workman in the great business of life, and we create an enslaved and passive instrument; we destroy the man within him, so far as we can do so by our ar rangements, and are guilty of an injury both to him and to society.
We make choice of a particular class, we select » one particular talent for more extended cultivation, — only that we may thereby be enabled to render back to society what it has done for us; — and thus each of us is bound to make use of our culture for the ad vantage of society. No one has a right to labour only for his own enjoyment, to shut himself up from his fellow-men, and make his culture useless to them; for it is only by the labour of society that he has been placed in a position wherein he could acquire that culture; it is in a certain sense a product, a property of society; and he robs society of a property which belongs to it if he does not apply his culture to its use. It is the duty of every one, not only to endeavour to LECTURE III. 209 make himself useful to society generally, but also to direct all his eiforts, according to the best knowledge which he possesses, towards the ultimate object of society, — towards the ever-increasing ennoblement of the human race; — that is, to set it more and more at liberty from the bondage of Nature, constantly to increase its independence and spontaneous activity: — and thus, from the new inequality of classes a new equality arises — a uniform progress of culture in all individual men.
I do not say that human life is at any time such as I have now depicted it; but it ought to be so, according to our practical ideas of society and of the different classes it contains; and we may and ought to labour that it may become so in reality. How powerfully the Scholar in particular may contribute to this end, and how many means for its accomplishment he at his dis posal, we shall see at the proper time.
When we contemplate the idea now unfolded, even without reference to ourselves, we see around us a community in which no one can labour for himself without at the same time labouring for his fellow-men, or can labour for others without also labouring for himself; where the success of one member is the success of all, and the loss of one a loss to all: — a picture which, by the harmony it reveals in the manifold diversity of being, introduces a cordial feeling of satisfaction to the mind, and powerfully raises the soul above the things of time.
But the interest is heightened when we turn our thoughts to ourselves, and contemplate ourselves as members of this great spiritual community. The feel ing of our dignity and our power is increased when 2 T 210 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
we say, — what each of us may say, — " My existence is not in vain and aimless; I am a necessary link in the great chain of being which reaches from the awakening of the first man to perfect consciousness of his existence, onward through eternity; all the great and wise and noble that have ever appeared among men, — those benefactors of the human race whose names I find recorded in the world's history, and the many others whose benefits have outlived their names, — all have laboured for me; I have entered into their labours; I follow their footsteps on this earth where they dwelt, where they scattered blessings as they went along. I may, as soon as I will, assume the sublime task which they have resigned, of making our common brotherhood ever wiser and happier; I may continue to build where they had to cease their labours; I may bring nearer to its completion the glorious temple which they had to leave unfinished."
" But" — some one may say — •" I too, like them, must rest from my labours." Oh! this is the sublimest thought of all! If I assume this noble task, I can never reach its end; and so surely as it is my vocation to assume it, I can never cease to act, and hence can never cease to be. That which men call Death cannot interrupt my activity; for my work must go on to its completion, and it cannot be completed in Time; — hence my existence is limited by no Time, and I am Eternal: — with the assumption of this great task, I have also laid hold of Eternity. I raise my head boldly towards the threatening rock, the raging flood, or the fiery tempest, and say — " I am Eternal, and I defy your might! Break all upon me! — and thou Earth, and thou Heaven, mingle in the wild tumult, and all LECTURE III. 211 ye elements, foam and fret yourselves, and crush in your conflict the last atom of the body which I call mine! — my WILL, secure in its own firm purpose, shall soar undisturbed and bold over the wreck of the universe: — for I have entered upon my vocation, and it is more enduring than ye are: it is ETERNAL, and I am ETERNAL like it."
( 212 ) LECTUEE IV.
THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
1 HAVE to-day to speak of the Vocation of the Scholar. I stand in a peculiar relation to this subject. All, or most of you, have chosen knowledge as the business of your lives; and I have made the same choice: — all of you, I presume, apply your whole energies, so that you may honourably fill the station to which you aspire; and I too have done, and do the like. I have to speak as a Scholar, before future Scholars, of the Scholar's vocation. I must examine the subject to its founda tion; exhaust it, if I can; hold back nothing in my representation of the truth. And if I discover for the Scholar a vocation most honourable, most lofty, and distinguished above that of all other classes of men, how is it possible for me to lay it before you without exceeding the limits of modest expression, — without seeming to undervalue other vocations, — without being apparently blinded by self-conceit? But I speak as a philosopher, whose duty it is strictly to define all his ideas. I cannot exclude this idea from the system of which it is a necessary part. I dare not keep back any part of the truth which I recognise. It still remains true; and modesty itself is subordinate to it: — it is a false modesty which is violated by truth. Let us then consider our subject in the first place with indifference, LECTURE IV. 213 as if it had no relation to ourselves: — let us treat it as an idea belonging to a world quite foreign to our own. Let us look with the greater strictness to our arguments. Let us never forget, what I hope I have already impressed upon you with some degree of suc cess, that every station in life is necessary; that each deserves our respect; that not the station itself, but the worthy fulfilment of its duties, does honour to a man; and that we only merit esteem in so far as we approach nearest to the perfect performance of the duties assigned to us in the order of things; — that therefore the Scholar has reason to be of all others the most modest, because an aim is set before him of which he continually falls far short, — because he has a most elevated ideal to reach, which commonly he ap proaches only at the greatest distance.
There are many tendencies and powers in man, and it is the vocation of each individual to cultivate all his powers, so far as he is able to do so. Among others is the social impulse; which offers him a new and peculiar form of cultivation, — that for society, — and affords an unusual facility for culture in general. There is nothing prescribed to man on this subject; — whether he shall cultivate all his faculties as a whole, unaided and by nature alone, — or mediately through society. The first is difficult, and in no wise advances society; —hence in the social state each individual rightfully selects his own part of the common cultivation, leaves the rest to his fellows, and expects that they will allow him to share the benefits of their culture, as he permits them to participate in the advantages of his own: — and this is the origin and ground of the distinction of classes in society.
214 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
Such are the results arrived at in our previous dis courses. For an arrangement of these different classes according to the ideas of Pure Reason, which is quite possible, a foundation must be sought in a complete enumeration of all the natural capacities and wants of man; — not, however, of his merely artificial wants. A particular class in society may be devoted to the cultivation of each faculty, or, what is the same thing, to the satisfaction of each want founded on an original impulse in human nature. We reserve this inquiry for another occasion, that we may now enter upon one which lies nearer to us.
If a question should arise as to the perfection or imperfection of a state of society arranged on the principles which we have already propounded, — (and every society does so arrange itself by the natural ten dencies of man, without foreign guidance, as was shown in our inquiry into the origin of society), — if, I say, such a question should arise, the answer to it would pre-suppose the solution of the following query: — "Is the development and satisfaction of all the wants of man, and indeed the harmonious development and satisfaction of them all, provided for in the given state of society? " Is this provided for, — then the society, as a society, is perfect; — that is, not that it has attained its final purpose, which as we have previously shown is impossible; but that it is so arranged that it must of necessity continually approximate thereto: — is this not provided for, — then society may indeed by some happy chance be impelled forward in the way of cultivation; but that cannot be calculated on with certainty, for it may with as much probability be carried by some unlucky occurrence in the opposite direction.
LECTURE IV. 215 LECTURE IV. 215 A provision for the harmonious development of all the faculties of man pro-supposes an acquaintance with them all, — a knowledge of all his tendencies and wants, — a complete survey of his whole being, But this perfect knowledge of human nature is itself founded on a faculty which must be developed; for there is certainly an impulse in man to know, and particularly to know that which affects himself. The development of this faculty, however, demands all the time and energy of a man: — if there be any want common to mankind which urgently requires that a particular class be set aside for its satisfaction, it is this.
The mere knowledge, however, of the faculties and wants of man, without an acquaintance with the means of developing and satisfying them, would be not only a most sorrowful and discouraging, but also a vain and perfectly useless acquirement. He acts a most unfriendly part towards me, who points out to me my defects, without at the same time showing me the means of supplying them; who raises me to the feeling of my wants, without enabling me to satisfy them. Would that he had rather left me in brutish ignorance! In short, this would not be such knowledge as society requires, and for which she must have a particular class of men to whom the possession of it may be committed; for this knowledge does not aim at the perfection of the species, and through that perfection at its harmonious combination, as it ought to do: hence to this knowledge of ivants there must be added a knowledge of the means by which they may be satisfied; — and this knowledge properly devolves upon the same class, because the one cannot be complete, and still less can it be active and living, without the 216 THE VOCATION OF THE SCHOLAR.
other. Knowledge of the first kind is founded on the principles of Pure Reason, and is philosophical; — that of the second, partly on Experience, and is in so far philosophico-historical; — not merely historical, for I must connect the purposes which can only be re cognised philosophically, with their appropriate objects revealed in Experience, in order to be able to recog nise the latter as the means to the attainment of the former.
If, however, this knowledge is to become useful to society, it is not sufficient to ascertain what faculties belong essentially to man, and through what means they may be developed; — such knowledge would still remain quite unproductive. It must proceed a step farther, in order to secure the wished-for benefits: — we must also know on what particular grade of cultiva tion the society to which we belong stands at a parti cular point of time; — to what particular stage it has next to ascend, and what are the means at its command for that purpose. Now on the grounds of Reason alone; — on the supposition of Experience in the ab stract, but prior to all actual Experience, — we can calculate the direction which human progress must take; we can declare with probability the particular steps by which it must pass to the attainment of a definite stage of cultivation; — but to declare the par ticular step on which it actually stands at a given point of time is impossible for Reason alone; for this, Expe rience must be questioned, the events of the past must be examined, but with an eye purified by philosophy; — we must look around us, and consider our contem poraries. This last part of the knowledge needful to society is thus purely historical.
LECTURE IV. 217 LECTURE IV. 217 The three branches of knowledge which we have pointed out, when combined together — (and without such union they will be found of but little avail) — constitute what is called learning, or at least what alone ought to be so called; — and he who devotes his life to the acquisition of this knowledge is a Scholar.
But every individual must not attempt to grasp the whole extent of human learning in all these three forms of knowledge; — that would be impossible for most men; and therefore the striving after it would be fruitless, and the whole life of a member, who might have been of much value to society, would disappear without society reaping the slightest advantage from it. Each individual may mark out for himself a par ticular portion of this territory; but each ought to cultivate his part according to all the three views,— philosophically, pliilosophico-liistorically, and histori cally. And I now declare beforehand, (what I shall further illustrate at another time), that you may in the meantime at least receive it on my testimony, — that the study of a profound philosophy does not render the acquisition of empirical knowledge a superfluous labour, if that knowledge be well grounded; but that it rather proves the necessity of such knowledge in the most convincing manner. The common purpose of these different branches of knowledge has already been pointed out; — that by their means provision may be made for the uniform but constantly progressive development of all the faculties of man: — and hence arises the true vocation of the Scholar; — the most widely extended survey of the actual advancement of the human race in general, and the steadfast promotion