has something else in store for me, and hence will give me nothing to do here, as indeed has been the case; or intends by these troubles to exercise and invigorate me 32 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
still further. I have lost almost everything, except my courage." Again we hear of a distant prospect of going to Vienna to prosecute his literary schemes, and thus of being nearer Zurich, — nay, when on his way, of even visiting it. And then again — " This week seems to be a critical time with me; — all my prospects have vanished, even this last one." But his strength never failed him; alone and unfriended, he shrank not from the contest. Adversity might roll her billows over his head, but her rage was spent in vain against a soul which she could bend to no unworthy deed.
And yet he was not alone. A fair and gentle spirit was ever by his side, whispering to him of peace, happiness, and love. " In the twilight," says he, " before I light my lamp, I dream myself back to thee, sit by thy side, chat with thee, and ask whether I am still dear to thee; — ask indeed, but not from doubt — I know before-hand that thou wilt answer, yes. I am always with thee on Saturdays. I cannot give up those Saturday meetings. I think I am still in Zurich, take my hat and stick, and will come to thee; and then I remember, and fret at fortune, and laugh at myself."
And again, — " Knowest thou all that thou art to me, even in this separation? When I feel vexed that of all my thoughts there is scarcely one which I can pour forth confidently into any human breast, then I think thee to me, and tell them all to thee. I imagine what thou wouldst answer me, and I believe that I hit it pretty nearly. When I walk alone, thou art by my side. When I find that my walks hereabouts lose their charms for me, either through force of habit, or from the sameness which is their prevailing RESIDENCE AT LEIPZIG. 33 character; then I show them to thee; tell thee what I have thought, or read, or felt here; — show thee this tree under which I have lain and meditated, — this bench on which I have conversed with a friend, — and then the dull walk acquires a new life. There is a garden in Leipzic which none of my acquaintances can endure, because it is very unfrequented, and al most wholly obscured by a thick alley. This garden is almost the only one which is still dear to me, because it is that to which I first resorted in my transition state from boyhood to youth, with all the fresh out- bursting feelings of that spring-time, in which I felt so much. Here I often lead thee to walk, and recount to thee the history of my heart.
" Farewell, and remain the protecting spirit of my solitude."
Thus amid the desolation of his outward prospects, the current of his affections seems to have flowed with a fuller and more powerful tide. Like a strong man proud of his own strength, he bore the burden of privation and neglect; but in the secret chamber of his heart there was a fountain of untold bliss, which sweetened even the bitterest trials: there he found a refuge from unworthy thoughts, a strong support in the conflict with misery and want. As the Alpine plant strikes its roots most firmly in barren and rocky places, so did his love cling more closely round his soul, when every other joy had died and withered there.
" Thou dear angel-soul," he writes, " do thou help me, do thou keep me from falling! And so thou dost. What sorrow can grieve, what distress can discourage me, so long as I possess the firm assurance that I have the sympathy of the best and noblest of women, — that 34 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
she looks upon her destiny as inseparably bound up in mine, — that our hearts are one? Providence has given me thy heart, and I want nothing more. Mine is thine for ever."
Of a project for engaging him in the ministry, he thus writes — " I know my opinions. I am neither of the Lutheran nor Reformed Church, but of the Chris tian; and were I compelled to choose, I should (since no purely Christian community now exists) attach my self to that community in which there is most freedom of thought and charity of life; and that is not the Lutheran, I think I have given up these hopes in my fatherland entirely. There is indeed a degree of enlightenment and rational religious know ledge existing among the younger clergy of the present day, which is not to be found to the same extent in any other country of Europe. But this is crushed by a worse than Spanish inquisition, under which they must cringe and dissemble, partly because they are deficient in ability, partly because in consequence of the number of clergy in our land their services can be spared, while they cannot sacrifice their employment. Hence arises a slavish, crouching, hypocritical spirit. A revolution is indeed impending: but when? and how? In short, I will be no preacher in Saxony."
The only record of his religious opinions at this time which is preserved, is a remarkable fragment entitled " Aphorisms on Religion and Deism." The object of this essay was to set at rest the much-vexed questions between Philosophy and Christianity, by strictly defining the respective provinces of each; by distinguishing be tween the objective reality which reason demands of Philosophy, and the incarnate form of truth which Reli- KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY. 35 gion offers to the feelings and sympathies of men. In the adaptation of Christianity to the wants of the sinner, in its appeal to the heart rather than to the under standing, he finds the explanation of its nature and purposes: — " Those who are whole need not the phy sician, but those who are sick." " I am come not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance." This fragment, by its distinct recognition of the radical difference between feeling and knowledge, and the consequent vanity of any attempt to decide between the different aspects which the great questions of human destiny assume before the cognitive and emo tional parts of our nature, may be looked upon as the stepping-stone to that important revolution in Fichte's mental world, to which the attention of the reader must now be directed.
The Critical or Kantian Philosophy was at this time the great topic of discussion in the higher circles of Germany. Virulently assailed by the defenders of the existing systems, with Herder at their head, it was as eagerly supported by a crowd of followers who looked upon Kant with an almost fanatical veneration. Fichte's attention was turned to it quite accidentally. Some increased success in teaching during the winter of 1790, rendered his outward circumstances more comfortable than before, and left his mind more at liberty to engage in serious study. He plunged with enthusiasm into the new philosophy.
The system of religious necessarianism before alluded to, which frequently shows itself in his letters, was by no means in harmony with the natural bent of his character. His energy of will and restless spirit of enterprise assorted ill with a theory in which he was 36 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
compelled to regard himself as a passive instrument in the hands of a higher power. This inconsistency must have often suggested itself to him before he met with its remedy; he must have frequently felt, that the theory which satisfied his understanding stood in opposition to his feelings. lie could not be contented with any superficial or partial reconcilement of this opposition. But he was now introduced to a sys tem in which his difficulties disappeared; in which, by a rigid examination of the cognitive faculty, the boundaries of human knowledge were accurately de fined, and within those boundaries its legitimacy suc cessfully vindicated against scepticism on the one hand and blind credulity on the other; in which the facts of man's moral nature furnished an indestructible foundation for a system of ethics where duty was neither resolved into self-interest nor degraded into the slavery of superstition, but recognised by Free-will as the absolute law of its being, in the strength of which it was to front the Necessity of nature, break down every obstruction that barred its way, and rise at last, unaided, to the sublime consciousness of an independent, and therefore eternal, existence. Such a theory was well calculated to rouse Fichte's enthu siasm, and engage all his powers. The light which he had been unconsciously seeking now burst upon his sight, every doubt vanished before it, and the purpose of his being lay clear and distinct before him. The world, and man's life in it, acquired a new sig nificance, every faculty a clearer vision, every power a fresh energy. But he must speak for himself: — KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY. 37 Cio acftelts at firemen.
" The last four or five months which I have passed in Leipzic have been the happiest period of my life; and what is most satisfactory about it is that I have to thank no man for the smallest ingredient in its pleasures. You know that before leaving Zurich I became somewhat sickly: either through imagination, or because the cookery did not agree with me. Since my departure from Zurich I have been health itself, and I know how to prize this blessing. The circum stances of my stay in Zurich, and still more of my travels, had strained my fancy to an unnatural height. When I came to Leipzic my brain swarmed with great plans. All were wrecked; and of so many soap- bubbles there now remains not even the light froth which composed them. This disturbed my peace of mind a little, and it was half in despair that I joined a party to which I ought long ere now to have belonged. Since I could not alter my outward circumstances, I resolved upon internal change. I threw myself into philosophy, and, as you know, into the Kantian. Here I found the remedy for all my evils, and joy enough to boot. The influence of this philosophy, and particularly the moral part of it (which however is unintelligible without previous study of the Critique of Pure Reason), upon the whole spiritual life, and particularly the revolution which it has caused in my own mode of thought, is indescribable. To you, espe cially, I owe the acknowledgment, that I now heartily believe in the Freedom of Man, and am well convinced that it is only on this supposition that Duty, Virtue, E 38 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
or Morality of any kind, is so much as possible; — a truth which indeed I saw before, and perhaps acquired from you. Further, it is very evident to me that many pernicious consequences to society flow from the commonly-received principle of the Necessity of all human actions; that it is the source of a great part of the immorality of the so-called higher classes; and that if any one, accepting this principle, yet pre serve himself pure from such corruption, it is not on account of the innocence, much less the utility of the principle itself. Your uncorrupted moral feelings guided you more truly than did my arguments, and you must admit that, in the latter respect, error is pardonable. A multitude of others, who do not err, have to thank, not their greater acuteness, but their inconsequential reasoning. I am also firmly convinced that there is no land of enjoyment here below, but a land of labour and toil, and that every joy of life should be only a refreshment and an incentive to greater exertion; that the ordering of our fortune is not demanded of us, but only the cultivation of ourselves. Hence I do not trouble myself about outward things, — endea vour not to seem, but to be; and it is to these con victions that I am indebted for the deep tranquillity of soul which I enjoy. My external circumstances suit well with these dispositions. I am master of no one, and no one's servant. I have no farther prospects: the present constitution of the church, and indeed the men who compose it, do not please me. So long as I can maintain my present independence, I shall do so at all hazards.
" You ask whether I contribute to the journals? No, to none of them. It was my intention, at first, to KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY. 39 write for the ' Bibliothek der Schonen Wissenschaftcn.' But all is anarchy there. Weisse is called the editor, but the bookseller is the editor; and I will have no thing to do with a bookseller in matters of this kind. I sent my essay upon Klopstock's Messias to B. for the ' Deutsche Museum.' He replied, that he feared that the poet, who had for some time honoured him with his friendship, would take it ill if he should publish an essay which might put his Messias in danger, &c. &c. I was satisfied with his answer, for I had already re pented of the sin. If ever I become an author, it shall be on my own account. Moreover, authorship as a trade is not for me. It is incredible how much labour it costs me to accomplish something with which after all I am but half satisfied. The more I write, the more difficult" does it become. I see that I want the living fire."
On the same subject he writes to his school and college friend Weisshuhn: — " I have lived in a new world since I have read the Critique of Practical Reason. Principles which I be lieved were irrefragable, are refuted; things which I thought could never be proved, — as for example, the idea of absolute Freedom, of Duty, — are proved; and I am so much the happier. It is indescribable what respect for humanity, what power this system gives us! But why should I say this to you, who have known it longer than I have done? What a bless ing to an age in which morality was torn up by the roots, and the name of Duty obliterated from every vocabulary!"
And with still greater warmth he speaks of his new studies to Johanna Rahn: — 40 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
" My scheming spirit has now found rest, and I thank Providence that, shortly before all my hopes were frustrated, I was placed in a position which enabled me to bear the disappointment with cheerful ness. A circumstance, which seemed the result of mere chance, led me to give myself up entirely to the study of the Kantian philosophy, — a philosophy that restrains the imagination which was always too power ful with me, gives reason the sway, and raises the soul to an indescribable elevation above all earthly concerns. I have accepted a nobler morality, and instead of occupying myself with outward things, I employ myself more with my own being. This has given me a peace such as I have never before experi enced: amid uncertain worldly prospects I have passed my happiest days. I shall devote some years of my life to this philosophy; and all that I write, at least for several years to come, shall be upon it. It is difficult beyond all conception, and stands much in need of simplification The principles are indeed hard speculations which have no direct bearing on human life, but their consequences are most important for an age whose morality is corrupted at the fountain-head; and to set these consequences before the would in a clear light, would, I believe, be doing it a good service. Say to thy dear father, whom I love as my own, that we erred in our inquiries into the Necessity of human actions, for although we proceeded with accuracy, we set out from a false prin ciple. I am now thoroughly convinced that the human will is free, and that to be happy is not the purpose of our being, — but to deserve happiness. I have to ask pardon of thee too, for having often led thee astray KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY. 41 by such assertions. Achelis was right, — without know ing it indeed; and why? Henceforth believe in thine own feelings; thou mayst not be able to confute op posing reasoners, yet they shall be confuted, and are so already, though they do not understand the con futation."
Inspired with this enthusiastic admiration for the Critical Philosophy, he resolved to become the ex ponent of its principles, and to rescue it from the obscurity which an uncouth terminology had thrown around it. This attempt had indeed been made al ready, and was still making, by a host of commenta tors, but the majority of these were either deficient in capacity, or, actuated by sordid motives, had eagerly seized the opportunity of gain which the prevalent excitement afforded, and crowded the literary market with crude and superficial productions. Fichte ac cordingly commenced an expository abridgment of Kant's Critique of the faculty of judgment. It was to be divided into two parts, — the one devoted to the power of scsthetical, the other to that of teleological judgment. The first part was completed and sent to his friend Weisshuhn for correction, but the progress of the work was interrupted by events which caused him to leave Leipzic: it was never finished, and no part of it was published.
Interesting, and remarkable too, in this connexion, is the following passage from a letter written about this time to a literary friend: — " If I am not deceived by the disposition of youth, which is more ready to hope than to fear, the golden E 2 42 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
age of our literature is at hand; it will be enduring, and may perhaps surpass the most brilliant period in that of any other nation. The seed which Lessing sowed in his letters, and in his ' Dramaturgic,' now begins to bear fruit. His principles seem every day to be more extensively received, and made the founda tion of our literary judgments; and Goethe's ' Iphi- genie' is the strongest proof of the possibility of their realization. And it seems to me that he who in his twentieth year wrote the ' Robbers,' will, sooner or later, tread in the same path, and in his fortieth become our ' Sophocles.' " And so it was! — He who in his twentieth year wrote the " Robbers," did literally in his fortieth produce his " Wallenstein," followed in brilliant suc cession by "Mary Stuart," — "The Maid of Orleans," — and, last and brightest of the train, by " William Tell," — a parting gift to the world from the " Sopho cles" of Germany.
And now the time drew near which was at once to terminate his struggles with fortune, and realize the dearest wish of his heart. He had received many pressing invitations from Rahn to return to Zurich, but he had hitherto declined to do so until he should be enabled to earn for himself a name and position in the world. " It would be disgraceful," said he, " were I to re-appear in Zurich, without having ac complished anything since I left it. What should I call myself? Suifer me at least to vindicate my claim to the name of a Scholar." No prospect, however, appearing of a permanent settlement in Germany, it had been arranged that he should return to Zurich LETTERS TO JOHANNA RAHN. 43 in 1791, to be united to her whom he most loved and honoured upon earth. The noble-minded woman who was now to bind herself to him for ever, had resolved that henceforth he should pursue his literary under takings, free from the cares of life. But Fichte looked forward to no period of inglorious repose; his ardent spirit had already formed a thousand plans of useful and honourable activity. " JSot happiness, but labour," was his principle, — a principle which ruled all his ac tions, in prosperity as well as in adversity. His letters to Johanna Rahn, in anticipation of this joyful event, breathe the same dignified tenderness which charac terized their earlier correspondence: — " And so, dearest, I solemnly devote myself to thee, — consecrate mySelf to be thine. I thank thee that thou hast thought me not unworthy to be thy companion on the journey of life. I have undertaken much: one day, — God grant it be a distant one! — to take the place of thy noble father; to become the recompense of thy early wisdom, of thy child-like love, of thy steadfast virtue. The thought of the great duties which I take upon me, makes me feel how little I am. But the feeling of the greatness of these duties shall exalt me; and thy love, thy too favourable opinion of me, will lend to my imperfection all that I want. There is no land of happiness here below, — I know it now, — but aland of toil, where every joy but strengthens us for greater labour. Hand in hand we shall traverse it, and encourage and strengthen each other, until our spirits — 0 may it be together! — shall rise to the eternal fountain of all peace. I stand now in fancy at the most important point of my earthly 44 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
existence, which divides it into two different, very dif ferent, portions, — and marvel at the unseen hand which has led me through the first dangerous part, through the land of perplexity and doubt! How long had I despaired of such a companion as thou, in whom manly dignity and female tenderness are united! What if I had contented myself with some decorated puppet of thy sex? That Being who rules all things was kinder to me than, in the feeling of my unworthiness, I had dared to wish or hope; — I was led to thee. That Being will do yet more for me. We shall one day, 0 dearest, stand again at the partition-wall which shall divide our whole life into two parts, — into an earthly and a spiritual; — and then shall we look back upon the latter part of the earthly which we shall have traversed together, as we do now upon its first part; and surely we shall then too marvel at the same wisdom which now calls forth our wonder, but with loftier feelings and with clearer insight. I love to place myself in that position " The surest means of acquiring a conviction of a life after death is so to act in this life that we can venture to wish for another. He who feels that if there be a God he must look down graciously upon him, will not be disturbed by arguments against his being, and he needs none /or it. He who has sacri ficed so much for virtue that he looks for recompense in a future life, needs no proof of the reality of such a life; — he does not believe in it, — he feels it. And so, thou dear companion for this short life and for eternity, we shall strengthen each other in this con viction, not by arguments but by deeds."
LETTERS TO JOHANNA RAHN. 45 LEIPZIG, 1st MarchllQl.
" At the end of this month I shall be free, and have determined to come to thee. I see nothing that can prevent me. I indeed still await the sanction of my parents; but I have been for a long time so well assured of their love, — almost, if I may venture to say it, of their deference to my opinion, — that I need not anticipate any obstacle on their part.
****** ****** " And now, dearest, I turn to thee, passing over all things unconnected with thee, which therefore do not interest me. Is it true, or is it but a sweet dream, that I am so near to the one best joy of my life, — the possession of the noblest of souls, chosen and destined for me by the Creator from among all other souls? — that my happiness, my peace, shall be the object of your wishes, your cares, your prayers? Could my feelings but flow to thee, warm as at this moment they are streaming through my breast, and threatening to burst it asunder!
" Accept me then, dearest maiden, with all my faults. How glad am I to think that I give myself to one who can take me with these faults; — who has wisdom and strength enough to love me with them all, — to help me to destroy them, so that I may one day appear with her, purified from all blemish, be fore Him who created us for each other! — Never have I been more sincerely penetrated by this feeling of my weakness, than since I received thy last letter, which reminds me of the poverty of all that I have said to thee; which reminds me of the vacillating state of mind in which I have written to thee. O what a man I have been! — People have sometimes 46 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
attributed to me firmness of character, and I have been vain enough to accept their flattery as truth. To what accident am I indebted for this opinion,— I who have always allowed myself to be guided by circumstances, — whose soul has taken the colours of the events that surrounded me? With great preten sions, which I could never have maintained, I left Zurich. My hopes were all wrecked. Out of despair, more than from taste, I threw myself into the Kantian philosophy, and found a peace for which indeed I have to thank my good health and the free flight of my fancy, and even deceived myself so far as to be lieve that the sublime thoughts which I imprinted upon my memory were natives of my soul. Circum stances led me to another employment less satisfactory to the mind; and the change in my mode of life, — the winter, which never agrees with me, — an indis position, and the troubles of a short journey, — these things could disturb the deeply-rooted peace of the philosopher, and bring me into a frightful humour! Shall I always be thus tossed to and fro like a wave? Take thou me, then, thou brave soul, and strengthen this indecision.
" Yet while I lament my inconstancy, how happy am I that I can pour out these complaints to a heart which knows me too well to misunderstand me! One of my feelings I can acquit of all fickleness: I can say it boldly, that I have never been untrue to thee, even in thought; and it is a touching proof of thy noble character, that amid all thy tender cares for me, thou hast never been anxious about this.
" The day of my departure is not exactly fixed, and I cannot determine it until I am about to set out.
DISAPPOINTMENTS — REMOVAL TO WARSAW. 47 But it will be one of the first days of April. I shall write to thee of it, and I shall also write to thee on my journey."