cular form of religious truth, grounded on experience of the efficacy of such a form as a means of moral perfection; — such an acceptance, indeed, as no one can prove either to himself or others, but which, on the other hand, cannot be refuted; an acceptance which is merely subjective, and, unlike the faith of Pure Reason, is not universally binding, since it is founded on individual experience alone. I believe that I have placed this distinction in a tolerably clear light, and I have endeavoured to set forth fully the practical consequences of these principles: namely, that while they save us the labour of enforcing our own subjec tive convictions upon others, they secure to every one the undisturbed possession of everything in reli gion which- he can apply to his own improvement, and thus silence the opponents of positive religion, not less than its dogmatical defenders, — principles for which I do not deserve the anger of the truth-loving theologian. But yet it has so fallen out; and I am now determined to leave the book as it is, and to allow the publisher to deal with the matter as he chooses."
The difficulty which gave rise to the preceding let ters was happily got rid of by a change in the censor ship. The new dean, Dr. Knapp, did not partake in the scruples of his predecessor, and he gave his con sent to the publication. The work appeared at Easter 1792, and excited great attention in the literary world of Germany. At first it was universally ascribed to Kant. The journals devoted to the Critical Philosophy teemed with laudatory notices, until at length Kant found it necessary publicly to disclaim the paternity of the book by disclosing its real author.
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The " Kritik aller Offenbarung" is an attempt to determine the natural and necessary conditions, under which alone a Revelation from a superior intelligence to man is possible, and consequently to lay down the criteria by which anything that claims the character of such a Revelation is to be tested. The design, as well as the execution, of the work is strikingly charac teristic of its author; for, although the form of the Kantian philosophy is much more distinctly impressed upon this, his first literary production, than upon his subsequent writings, yet it does not and cannot conceal those brilliant qualities to which he owed his future fame. That profound and searching intellect, which, in the province of pure Metaphysics, cast aside as fallacious and deceptive those solid-seeming princi ples on which ordinary men are content to take their stand, and clearing its way to the most hidden depths of thought, sought there a firm foundation on which to build a structure of human knowledge, whose sum mit should tower as high above common faith as its base was sunk deep below common observation, — does here, when applied to a question of practical judgment, exhibit the same clearness of vision, strength of thought, and subtilty of discrimination. In the con duct of this inquiry, Fichte manifests that single eye to truth, and reverent devotion to her when found, which characterize all his writings and his life. His book has nothing in common with those superficial at tacks upon Revelation, or equally superficial defences of it, which are still so abundant, and which afford so much scope for petty personal animosities. The mathematician, while constructing his theorem, does not pause to inquire who may be interested in its " KRITIK ALLER OFFENBARUNG. 65 future applications; nor does the philosopher, while calmly settling the conditions and principles of know ledge, concern himself about what opiniom may ulti mately be found incompatible with them: — these may take care of themselves. Far above the dark vortex of theological strife in which punier intellects chafe and vex themselves in vain, Fichte struggles forward to the sunshine of pure thought, which sectarianism cannot see, because its weakened vision is already filled with a borrowed and imperfect light. " Form and style," he says in his preface, " are my affair; the censure or contempt which these may incur affects me alone; — and that is of little moment. The result is the affair of truth, and that is of moment. That must be subjected to a strict, but careful and impartial exa mination. I at least have acted impartially. I may have erred, and it would be astonishing if I had not. What measure of correction I may deserve, let the public decide. Every judgment, however expressed, I shall thankfully acknowledge; every objection which seems incompatible with the cause of truth, I shall meet as well as I can. To truth I solemnly devote myself, at this my first entrance into public life. Without respect of party or of reputation, I shall al ways acknowledge that to be truth which I recognise as such, come whence it may; and never acknowledge that which I do not believe. The public will pardon me for having thus spoken of myself, on this first and only occasion. It may be of little importance to the world to receive this assurance, but it is of importance to me to call upon it to bear witness to this my solemn vow." — Never was vow more nobly fulfilled!
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In the spring of 1793, Ficlite left Dantzig for Zurich, to accomplish the wish dearest to his heart. A part of Rahn's property had been saved from the wreck of his fortunes, and had been increased by the prudence and economy of his daughter. He was now anxious to see his children settled beside him, and to resume his personal intercourse with his destined son-in-law. It was arranged that wherever Fichte's abode might ultimately be fixed, the venerable old man should still enjoy the unremitting care and attention of his daughter. The following extracts are from a letter written shortly before Fichte's departure for Switzerland: — "Dantzig, 5tti March 1793.
" In June, or at the latest July, I shall be with thee: but I should wish to enter the walls of Zurich as thy husband: — Is that possible? Thy kind heart will give no hindrance to my wishes; but I do not know the circumstances. But I hope, and this hope comforts me much. - God! what happiness dost thou prepare for me, the unworthy! - 1 have never felt so deeply convinced that my existence is not to be in vain for the world, as when I read thy letter. What I receive in thee, I have not deserved; it can therefore be only a means of strengthening me for the labour and toil which yet await me. Let thy life but flow smoothly on, — thou sweet, dear one!
" Thou wilt fashion thyself by me! What I could perhaps give thee, thou dost not need; what thou canst bestow on me, I need much. Do thou, good, kind one, shed a lasting peace upon this tempestuous MARRIAGE WITH JOHANNA RAHN. 67 heart; pour gentle and winning mildness over my fiery zeal for the ennobling of my fellow-men. By thee will I fashion myself, till I can go forth again more usefully.
" I have great, glowing projects. My ambition (pride rather) thou canst understand. It is to pur chase my place in the human race with deeds, to bind up with my existence eternal consequences for hu manity and the whole spiritual world; no one need know that I do it, if only it be done. What I shall be in the civil world, I know not. If instead of im mediate activity I be destined to speech, my desire has already anticipated thy wish that it should be rather from a pulpit than from a chair. There is at present no want of prospects of that kind. Even from Saxony I receive most profitable invitations. I am about to go to Lubeck and Hamburg. In Dantzig they are unwilling to let me go. All that for the future! That I am not idle, I have shown by refusing, within this half year, many invitations which would have been very alluring to idlers. For the present I will be nothing but FicJite.
" I may perhaps desire an office in a few years. I hope it will not be wanting. Till then I can get what I require by my pen: at least, it has never failed me yet, in my many wanderings and sacrifices."
Fichte arrived in Zurich on the 16th day of June 1793, after having once more visited his parents, and received their entire approbation of his future plans. He was received with cordial welcome by a numerous circle of his former friends, who were well acquainted with his growing reputation and his prospects of future 68 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
eminence. After a residence of a few months in the family of Rahn, — a delay rendered necessary by the laws of the state regarding foreigners, — his marriage with Johanna Rahn took place on the 22d of October at Baden, near Zurich. Lavater sent his congratu lations, after his friendly fashion, in the following lines: — an tf tcljteKafm untr an t*alJn~dF tcfjte.
".Kraft ttnb S5emutf) »ereint ttnrft me cergdngltdje Sreuben, 8ieb' im 2?imbe mit Cidjf erjeugt unfierHidje timber: Sreue ber SQ3aI)rI;etf bid;, fo oft bieg S?ldftdjen bu anMicf|V' After a short tour in Switzerland, in the course of which his already wide-spread fame brought him into contact with several distinguished men, — Baggesen, Festalozzi, &c., — Fichte took up his residence in the house of his father-in-law. Here he enjoyed for several months a life of undisturbed repose, in the society of her whose love had been his stay in times of adversity and doubt, and now gave to prosperity a keener relish and a holier aim.
But while happiness and security dwelt in the peace ful Swiss canton, the rest of Europe was torn asunder by that fearful convulsion which made the close of last century the most remarkable period in the history of the world. Principles which had once bound men together in bonds of truth and fealty had become false and hollow mockeries; and that evil time had arrived in which those who were nominally the leaders and rulers of the people had ceased to command their reverence and attachment; nay, by countless oppres sions and follies had become the objects of their bitter POLITICAL SPECULATIONS. 69 hatred and contempt. And now one nation speaks forth the word which all are struggling to utter, and soon every eye is turned upon France, — the theatre on which the new act in the drama of human history is to be acted; where freedom and right are once more to become realities; where man, no longer a mere appendage to the soil, is to start forth on a new career of activity and honour, and show the world the spec tacle of an ennobled and regenerated race. The en slaved of all nations rouse themselves at the shout of deliverance; the patriot's heart throbs higher at the cry; the poet dreams of a new golden age; the philosopher looks with eager eye for the solution of the mighty problem of human destiny. All, alas! are doomed to disappointment; and over the grave where their hopes lie buried, a lesson of fearful significance stands inscribed in characters of desolation _and blood, proclaiming to all ages that where the law of liberty is not written upon the soul, outward freedom is a mockery and unchecked power a curse.
In 1793 Fichte published his " Contributions to the correction of public opinion upon the French Revolu tion." The leading principle of this work is, that there is, and can be, no absolutely unchangeable political constitution, because none absolutely perfect can be realized; — the relatively best constitution must there fore carry within itself the principle of change and improvement. And if it be asked from whom this im provement should proceed, it is replied, that all parties to the political contract ought equally to possess this right. And by this political contract is to be understood, not any actual and recorded agreement, — for both the old and new opponents of this view think they can 70 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
destroy it at once by the easy remark that we have no historical proof of the existence of such a contract,— but the abstract idea of a State, which, as the peculiar foundation of all rights, should lie at the bottom of every actual political fabric. The work comprises also an inquiry concerning the privileged classes in society, particularly the nobilty and clergy, whose prerogatives are subjected to a prolonged and rigid scrutiny. In particular, the conflict between the universal rights of reason, and historical privileges which often involve great injustice, is brought prominently into notice. This book brought upon Fichte the charge of being a democrat, which was afterwards extended into that of atheism! The following passage is from his own defence against the former charge, written at a lattter period: — " And so I am a democrat! — And what is a demo crat? One who represents the democratic form of government as the only just one, and recommends its introduction? I should think, if he does this merely in his writings, that, even under a monarchical govern ment, the refutation of his error, if it be an error, might be left to other literary men. So long as he makes no direct attempt to overthrow the existing government and put his own scheme in its place, I do not see how his opinions can come before the judg ment-seat of the State, which takes cognizance of ac tions only. However, I know that my opponents think otherwise on this point. Let them think so if they choose; does the accusation then justly apply to me? — am I a democrat in the foregoing sense of that word? They may indeed have neither heard nor read anything about me, since they settled this idea in POLITICAL SPECULATIONS. 71 their minds and wrote " democrat" over my head in their imaginations. Let them look at my " Principles of Natural Law," vol. i. p. 189, &c. It is impossible to name any writer who has declared more decidedly, and on stronger grounds, against the democratic form of government as an absolutely illegitimate form. Let them make a fair extract from that book. They will find that I require a submission to law, a jurisdiction of law over the actions of the citizen, such as was never before demanded by any teacher of jurispru dence, and has never been attempted to be realized in any constitution. Most of the complaints which I have heard against this system have turned on the assertion that it derogated too much from the freedom (licentiousness and lawlessness) of men. I am thus far from preaching anarchy.
" But they do not attach a definite and scientific meaning to the word. If all the circumstances in which they use this expression were brought together, it might perhaps be possible to say what particular sense they annex to it; and it is quite possible that, in this sense, I may be a very decided democrat; — it is at least so far certain, that I would rather not be at all, than be the subject of caprice and not of law."
During the period of his residence at Zurich, how ever, Fichte's attention was occupied with another subject, more important to science and to his own future fame than his political speculations. This was the philosophical system on which his reputation chiefly rests. It would be altogether out of place in the present Memoir to enter at large upon a subject so vast and so profound, if indeed it might not prove 72 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
altogether impossible to present, in any form intel ligible to the ordinary English reader, the results of these abstruse and difficult speculations. Yet the pe culiarities of Fichte's philosophical system are so inti mately bound up with the personal character of its author, that both lose something of their completeness when considered apart from each other. And it is principally with a view to illustrate the harmony be tween his life and his philosophy that an attempt is here made to point out some of its distinguishing features. As Fichte's system may be considered the complement of those which preceded it, we must view it in connexion with the more important of these.
The final results of the philosophy of Locke were two-fold. In France, the school of Condillac, imi tating the example of the English philosopher rather than following out his first principles, occupied itself exclusively with the phenomena of sensation, leaving out of sight the no less indisputable facts to which reflection is our sole guide. The consequence was a system of unmixed materialism, a deification of physi cal nature, and ultimately, avowed atheism. In Great Britain, the philosophy of experience was more justly treated: both sources of human knowledge which Locke indicated at the outset of his inquiry — although in the body of his essay he analyzed one of them only — were recognised by his followers in his own land, until Berkeley resolved the phenomena of sensation into those of reflection, and the same method which in France led to materialism, in England produced a system of intellectual idealism. Berkeley's principles were pushed to the extreme by Hume, who, applying MODERN PHILOSOPHY HUME REID. 73 to the phenomena of reflection precisely the same analysis which Berkeley applied to those of sensation, demolished the whole fabric of human knowledge, and revealed, under the seemingly substantial foundations on which men had hitherto built their faith, a yawning gulf of impenetrable obscurity and scepticism. Feeling, thought, nay consciousness itself, became but fleeting phantasms without any abiding subject in which they could inhere.
It may be safely affirmed that, notwithstanding the outcry which greeted the publication of the " Essay of Human Nature," and the senseless virulence which still loads the memory of its author with abuse, none of his critics have hitherto succeeded in detecting a fallacy in his main argument. Admit his premises, and you cannot consistently stop short of his conclu sions. The Aristotelian theory of perception, which up to this period none had dared to impugn, having thus led, by a strictly necessary movement, to the last ex treme of scepticism, the reaction which followed, under Reid and the school of Common Sense, was naturally founded on a denial of the doctrine of representation, and on a more close analysis of our knowledge of the external world, and of the processes by which we acquire that knowledge. It has thus occurred that the dis tinguished philosophers of the Scotch School, although deserving of all gratitude for their acute investigations into the intellectual and moral phenomena of man, have yet confined themselves exclusively to the depart ment of psychological analysis, and have thrown little direct light on the higher questions of metaphy sical speculation. This was reserved for the modern school of Germany, of which Kant may be considered 74 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
the head. Stewart, although contemporary with the philosopher of Konigsberg, seems to have had not only an imperfect, but a quite erroneous, conception of his doctrines.
Kant admitted the validity of Hume's conclusions respecting our knowledge of external things, on the premises from which they were deduced. He admitted that the human intellect could not go beyond itself, could not furnish us with any other than subjective knowledge. We are indeed constrained to assume the existence of an outward world, to which we refer the impressions which come to us through our senses, but these impressions having to pass through the prism of certain inherent faculties or " categories" of the understanding, by which their original character is modified, or perhaps altogether changed, we are not entitled to draw from them any conclusions as to the nature of the source whence they emanate. Our knowledge of the outward world is thus limited to the bare admission of its existence, and stands in the same relation to the outward world itself as the impressions conveyed to the eye through a kaleidescope do to the collection of objects within the instrument. But is the outward world, which we are thus forced to abandon to doubt, the only reality for man! Do we not find in consciousness something more than a cognitive fa culty? We find besides, Will, Freedom, Self-determi nation; and here is a world altogether independent of sense, and of the knowledge of outward things. Free dom is the root, the very ground-work of our being; free determination is the most intimate and certain fact in our nature. To this freedom we find an abso lute law addressed, — the unconditional law of morality.
MODERN PHILOSOPHY KANT. 75 Here, then, in the practical world of duty, of free obedience, of moral determination, we have the true world of man, in which the moral agent is the only existence, the moral act the only reality. In this super-sensual world we regain, by the practical move ment of Reason, our convictions of infinite and absolute existence, from the knowledge of which, as objective realities, we are shut out by the subjective limitations of the Understanding. Between the world of sense and the world of morality, and indissolubly connected with both, stands the aesthetic world, or the system of relations we hold with external things through our ideas of the Beautiful, the Sublime, &c.; which thus forms the bond of union between the sensible and spiritual worlds. These three worlds exhaust the ele ments of human consciousness.
But while Kant, by throwing the bridge of aesthetic feeling over the chasm which separates the sensible from the purely spiritual world, established an outward communication between them, he did not attempt to reconcile — he maintained the impossibility of recon ciling — their essential opposition. So far as the ob jective world is concerned, his system is one of mere negation. It is in this reconciliation, — in tracing this opposition to its source, — in the establishment of the unity of the sensible and spiritual worlds, that Fichte's " Wissenschaftslehre " follows out and completes the philosophical system of which Kant had laid the foun dation. In it, for the first time, philosophy becomes, not a theory of knowledge, but knowledge itself; for in it the apparent division of the subject thinking from the object thought of is abolished, by penetrating to the primitive unity out of which this opposition arises.
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The origin of this opposition, and the principle by which it is to be reconciled, must be sought for in the nature of the thinking subject itself. Our own consciousness is the source of all our positive and certain knowledge. It precedes, and is the ground of, all other knowledge; nay it embraces within itself everything which we truly know. The facts of our own mental experience alone possess true reality for us; whatever is more than these, however probable as an inference, does not belong to the sphere of know ledge. Here, then, in the depths of the mind itself, we must look for a fixed and certain starting point for philosophy. Fichte finds such a starting point in the proposition or axiom A = A. This proposition is at once recognised by every one as absolutely and uncon ditionally true. But in affirming this proposition we also affirm our own existence, for the affirmation itself is our own mental act. The proposition may there fore be changed into Ego = Ego. But this affirmation itself postulates the existence of something not in cluded in its subject, or in other words, out of the affirmative axiom A=A arises the negative proposition — A not = A, or as before, Non-Ego not = Ego. In this act of negation the mind assumes the existence of a Non-Ego opposed to itself, and forming a limitation to its own existence. This opposition occurs in every act of consciousness; and in the voluntary and spon taneous limits which the mind thus sets to its own activity, it creates for itself an objective world.
The fundamental character of finite being is thus the supposition of itself (thesis'), and of something opposed to itself (anti-thesis}; which two conceptions are reciprocal, mutually imply each other, and are hence identical (synthesis.} The Ego affirms the Non- Ego, and is affirmed in it; the two conceptions are indissoluble, nay they are but one conception modi fied by different attitudes of the mind. But as these attitudes are in every case voluntarily assumed by the Ego, it is itself the only real existence, and the Non-Ego, as well as the varied aspects attributed to it, are but different forms of the activity of the Ego. Here, then, Eealism and Idealism coincide in the identity of the subject and object of thought, and the absolute principle of knowledge is discovered in the mind itself.
But in thus establishing the Non-Ego as a limit to its own free activity, the Ego does not perform a mere arbitrary act. It constantly sets before it, as its aim or purpose, the realization of its own nature: and this effort after self-development is the root of our practical existence. This effort is limited by the Non- Ego, — the creation of the Ego itself for the pur poses of its own moral life. Hence the practical Ego must regard itself as acted upon by influences from without, as restrained by something other than itself. — in one word, as finite. But this limitation, or in other words the Non-Ego, is a mere creation of the Ego, without true life or existence in itself, and only assumed as a field for the self-development of the Ego. Let us suppose this assumed obstacle removed or laid aside, and the original activity of the Ego left without limitation or restraint. In this case, the finite indivi duality of the Ego disappears with the limitations which produce it, and we ascend to the first principle of a spiritual organization in which the multiform pheno mena of individual life are embraced in an Infinite all- H 2 78 MEMOIR OF F1CHTE.
comprehending Unity, — " an Absolute Ego, in whose self-determination all the Xon-Ego is determined."