CONDUCT OF THE STUDENTS. 107 powerful defence, in which he indignantly hurled back the charge, completely demolisliing, by a simple nar rative of the real facts, every vestige of argument by which it could be supported; and took occasion to make the Government acquainted with his projects for the moral improvement of the students. The judg ment of the Duke is dated 25th January 1795, and by it, Fichte " is freely acquitted of the utterly ground less suspicion which had been attached to him/' and confidence is expressed, " that in his future proceedings he will exhibit such wisdom and prudence as shall en title him to the continued good opinion" of the Prince. Permission was given him to resume his Sunday- lectures, avoiding the hours of divine service.
But in the meantime the outrageous proceedings of that party of the students which was opposed to him rendered it impossible for him to entertain any hope of conciliating them, and soon made his residence at Jena uncomfortable and even dangerous. His wife was insulted upon the public street, and both his person and property subjected to repeated outrages. He applied to the Senate of the University for protec tion, but was informed that the treatment he had received was the result of his interference in the affairs of the Orders upon the authority of the State, and without the cooperation of the Senate; that they could do nothing more than authorize self-defence in case of necessity; and that if he desired more protection than the Academy could give him, he might apply to his friends at Court. At last, when at the termination of the winter session an attack was made upon his house in the middle of the night, in which his venerable father- in-law narrowly escaped with life, Fichte applied to the Duke for permission to leave Jena. This was granted, 108 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
and he took up his residence during the summer at the village of Osmanstadt, about two miles from Weimar.
In delightful contrast to the stormy character of his public life at this time, stands the peaceful simpli city of his domestic relations. In consequence of the suddenness of his removal from Zurich, his wife did not accompany him at the time, but joined him a few months afterwards. Her venerable father, too, was persuaded by his love for his children to leave his native land, and take up his residence with them at Jena. This excellent old man was the object of Fichte's deepest respect and attachment, and his declining years were watched with all the anxiety of filial tenderness. He died on 29th September 1795, at the age of 76. His remains were accompanied to the grave by Fichte's pupils as a mark of respect for their teacher's grief, and a simple monument records the affectionate reverence of those he left behind him. It bears the following interesting inscription from the pen of Fichte: — HARTMANN RAHN, BORN AT ZURICH J DIED AT JENA 29th SEPTEMBER 1795, AGED 76 YEARS.
He lived amid the most eminent men of his time; was beloved by the good; sometimes troubled by others; hated by none.
Intelligence, kindliness, faith in God and man, gave new life to his age, and guided him peacefully to the grave.
None knew his worth better than we, whom the old man followed from his father-land, whom he loved even to the end, and of whose grief this memorial bears record.
JOHANNA FICHTE, his DAUGHTER. JOH. GOTT. FICHTE, his SON.
Farewell! thou dear Father!
Be not ashamed, 0 Stranger! if a gentle emotion stir within thee: were he alive, he would clasp thy hand in friendship!
LITERARY INTERCOURSE GOETHE. 109 After the loss of their venerable parent, Fichte and liis wife were left alone to enjoy, in pure and unbroken attachment, the calm sunshine of domestic felicity; but at a later period the smile of childhood added a new charm to their home. A son who was born at Jena was their only cliild.* Fichte's intercourse with the eminent men who adorned this brilliant period of German literary history was extensive and important. Preeminent among these stands Goethe, in many respects a remarkable contrast to the philosopher. The one, calm, sarcastic, and oracular; the other, restless, enthusiastic, impetuously eloquent; — the one, looking on men only to scan and comprehend them; the other, waging ceaseless war with their vices, their ignorance, their unworthiness; — the one, seating himself on a chilling elevation above human sympathy, and even exerting all the energies of his mighty intellect to veil the traces of every feeling which bound him to his fellow-men; the other, from an eminence no less exalted, pouring around lu'm a rushing tide of moral power over his friends, his country, and the world. To the one, men looked up with a painful and hopeless sense of inferiority; they crowded around the other to participate in his wisdom, and to grow strong in gazing on his Titanic might. And even now, when a common destiny has laid the proud gray column in the dust, and stayed the giant's arm from working, we look upon the majesty of the one with astonishment rather than reverence, while at the memory of the other the pulse of hope beats more * Now Professor of Philosophy in the University of Tubing-en.
L HO MEMOIR OF FICIITE.
vigorously than before, and the tear of patriotism falls heavily on his grave.
Goethe welcomed the " Wissenschaftslehre " with his usual avidity for new acquisitions. The bold attempt to infuse a living spirit into philosophical formulas, and give reality to speculative abstractions, roused his attention. He requested that it might be sent to him, sheet by sheet, as it went through the press. This was accordingly done, and the following passage from a letter to Fichte will show that he was not disappointed in the expectations he had formed of j£.
" What you have sent me contains nothing which I do not understand, or at least believe that I under stand, — nothing that does not readily harmonize with my accustomed way of thinking; and I see the hopes which I had derived from the introduction already fulfilled.
" In my opinion you will confer a priceless benefit on the human race, and make every thinking man your debtor, by giving a scientific foundation to that upon which Nature seems long ago to have quietly agreed with herself. For myself, I shall owe you my best thanks if you reconcile me to the philosophers, whom I cannot do without, and with whom, notwith standing, I never could unite.
" I look with anxiety for the continuation of your work to adjust and confirm many things for me; and I hope, when you are free from urgent engagements, to speak with you about several matters, the prosecu tion of which I defer until I clearly understand how that which I hope to accomplish may harmonize with what we have to expect from you."
JACOBI SCHILLER. Ill The personal intercourse of these two great men seems to have been characterized by mutual respect and esteem, without any approach to intimacy. Of one interview Fichte says, — " He was politeness, friendship itself; he showed me unusual attention." But no correspondence was maintained between them after Fichte left Jena, in consequence of the proceed ings which led to his departure.
Of a more enduring nature was his intimacy with Jacobi. It commenced in a literary correspondence soon after his arrival at Jena, from which some extracts have already been given. Entertaining a deep respect for this distinguished man, derived solely from the study of his works, Fichte sent him a copy of the Wissenschaftslehre, with a request that he would com municate his opinion of the system it contained. In a long and interesting correspondence, extending over many years, the points of opposition between them were canvassed; and although a radical difference in mental constitution prevented them from ever think ing altogether alike, yet it did not prevent them from cultivating a warm and steadfast friendship, which continued unbroken amid vicissitudes by which other attachments were sorely tried.
Fichte had formed an acquaintance with Schiller at Tubingen when on his journey to Jena. Schiller's enthusiastic nature assimilated more closely to that of Fichte than did the dispositions of the other great poet of Germany, and a cordial intimacy sprang up between them. Fichte was a contributor to.the " Horen" from its commencement — a journal which Schiller began 112 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
soon after Fichtc's arrival at Jena. This gave rise to a singular but short-lived misunderstanding between them. A paper entitled " Briefe iiber Geist und Buch- staben in der Philosophic" had been sent by Fichte for insertion in the Horen. Judging from the com mencement alone, Schiller conceived it to be an imi tation, or still worse, a parody, of his "Briefe iiber die ^Esthetische Erziehung des Menschen," and, easily excited as he was, demanded with some bitterness that it should be re-written. Fichte did not justify himself by producing the continuation of the article, but re ferred the accusation of parody to the arbitration of Goethe and Humboldt. Schiller was convinced of his error, and soon apologized for it; but Fichte did not return the essay, and it appeared afterwards in the Pliilosophical Journal. After this slight misunder standing they continued upon terms of confidence and friendship, and, towards the close of his life, Schiller became a zealous student of the Wissenschaftslehre.
Fichte likewise carried on an extensive correspon dence with Reinhold (who has been already men tioned), Schelling, "W. von Humboldt, Schaumann, Paulus, Schmidt, the Schlegels, Novalis, Tieck, Wolt- mann, besides a host of minor writers, so that his in fluence extended throughout the whole literary world of Germany at that period.
Fichte has been accused of asperity and supercilious ness towards his literary opponents. It may easily be conceived that, occupying a point of view altogether different from theirs, his philosophy should appear to him entirely untouched by objections to which they TREATMENT OF OPPONENTS. 113 attached great weight. Nor is it surprising that he should choose rather to proceed with the development of his own system, from his own principles, than to place himself in the mental position of other men, and combat their arguments upon their own grounds. That diversity of ground was the essential cause of their difference. Those who could take their stand beside him, would see the matter as he saw it; those who could not do this, must remain where they were. Claiming for his system the certainty of mathematical demonstration, — asserting that with him philosophy was no longer mere speculation, but had now become knowledge, — he could not bend or accommodate him self or his doctrines to the prejudices of others; — they must come to him, not he to them. " My philo sophy," he says, " is nothing to Herr Schmidt, from incapacity; his is nothing to me, from insight. From tlu's time forth I look upon all that Ilerr Schmidt may say, either directly or indirectly, about my philo sophy, as something which, so far as I am concerned, has no meaning, and upon Herr Schmidt himself as a philosopher who, in relation to me, is nobody." Such language, although necessarily irritating in the highest degree to its objects, and easily susceptible of being regarded as the expression of a haughty and vain-glorious spirit, was in reality the natural utter ance of a powerful and earnest intellect, unused to courtly phrase, or to the gilded insincerity of fashion. He spoke strongly, because he thought and felt deeply. He was the servant of truth, and it was not for him to mince his language towards her opponents. But it is worthy of remark that on these occasions he was never the assailant. In answer to some of Reinhold's ex- L 2 114 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
postulations he writes thus: — " You say that my tone touches and wounds persons who do not deserve it. That I sincerely regret. But they must deserve it in some degree, if they will not permit one to tell them honestly of the errors in which they wander, and are not willing to suffer a slight shame for the sake of a great instruction. With him to whom truth is not above all other things, — above his own petty person ality, — the Wissenschaftslehre can have nothing to do. The internal reason of the tone which I adopt is this: It fills me with scorn which I cannot describe, when I look on the present want of any truthfulness of vision; on the deep darkness, entanglement, and per version, which now prevail. The external reason is this: How have these men (the Kantists) treated me? — how do they continue to treat me? — There is nothing that I have less pleasure in than controversy. Why then can they not be at peace? — For example, friend Schmidt? I have indeed not handled him ten derly; — but every just person who knew much that is not before the public, would give me credit for the mildness of an angel." * * The following amusing passage, from the commencement of an anonymous publication on this controversy, may serve to show the kind of reputation which Fichte had acquired among his oppo nents: — " After the anathemas which the dreadful Fichte has hurled from the height of his philosophic throne upon the ant-hills of the Kantists; looking at the stigma forever branded on the foreheads of these unhappy creatures, which must compel them to hide their existence from the eye of an astonished public; amid the general fear and trembling which, spreading over all philosophic sects, casts them to the earth before the thunder-tread of this destroying god, — •who dare now avow himself a Kantist? I dare! — one of the most CONTROVERSY WITH JAKOB. 115 The true nature of Fichte's controversialism is well exhibited in a short correspondence with Jakob, the Professor of Philosophy at Halle. Jakob was editor of the "Annalen der Philosophic, " the chief organ of the Kantists — a journal which had distinguished itself by the most uncompromising attacks upon the Wissen schaftslehre. Fichte had replied in the Philosophical Journal in his usual style. Sometime afterwards Jakob, who was personally unknown to Fichte, addressed a letter to him, full of the most noble and generous sen timents, desiring that, although opposed to each other in principle, all animosity between them might cease. The following passages are extracted from Fichte's reply: — •' I have never hated you, nor believed that you hated me. It may sound presumptuous, but it is true, —that I do not know properly what hate is, for I have never hated any one. And I am by no means so passionate as I am commonly said to be That my Wissenschaftslehre was not understood, — that it is even now not understood (for it is supposed that I now teach other doctrines), I freely believe; — that it was not understood on account of my mode of propounding it in a book which was not designed insignificant creatures ever dropped from the hand of fate. In the deep darkness which surrounds me, and which hides me from every eye in Germany, — even from the eagle-glance of a Fichte; from this quiet retreat, every attempt to break in upon the security of which is ridiculous in the extreme, — from hence I may venture to raise my voice, and cry, I am a Kantist! — and to Fichte — Thou canst err, and thou hast erred," &c. &c.
116 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
for the public but for my own students, that no trust was reposed in me, but that I was looked upon as a babbler whose interference in the affairs of philosophy might do hurt to science, that it was therefore con cluded that the system which men knew well enough that they did not understand was a worthless system, — all this I know and can comprehend. But it is surely to be expected from every scholar, not that he should understand everything, but that he should at least know whether he understand a subject or not; and of every honest man, that he should not pass judgment on anything before he is conscious of under standing it Dear Jakob! I have unlimited reverence for openness and uprightness of character. I had heard a high character of you, and I would never have suffered myself to pronounce such a judgment on your literary merit, had I not been after wards led to entertain an opposite impression. Xow, however, by the impartiality of your judgment upon me, — by the warm interest you take in me as a member of the republic of letters, — by your open testimony in my behalf,* you have completely won my personal esteem. It shall not be my fault — (allow me to say this without offence) — if you do not also pos sess my entire esteem as an author, publicly expressed.
I have shown B and E that I can do justice even to an antagonist."
Jakob's reply is that of a generous opponent: — " Your answer, much-esteemed Professor, has been most acceptable to me. In it I have found the man * Jakob had espoused his cause in an important dispute, of which we shall soon have to treat.
LITERARY PURSUITS. 117 whom I wished to find. The differences between us shall be erased from my memory. Not a word of satis faction to me. If anything that I do or write shall have the good fortune to meet your free and unpur- chased approbation, and you find it good to communi cate your opinion to the public, it will be gratifying to me; — for what joy have people of our kind in public life, that is not connected with the approbation of esti mable men? But I shall accept your candid refutation as an equally sure mark of your esteem, and joyfully profit by it. Confutation without bitterness is never unacceptable to me."
Gradually disengaging himself from outward causes of disturbance, Fichte now sought to devote himself more exclusively to literary exertion, in order to em body his philosophy in a more enduring form than that of oral discourses. In 1795 he became joint- editor of the " Philosophical Journal," which had for some years been conducted by his friend and colleague jViethammer. His contributions to it form a most important part of his works, and are devoted to the scientific development of his system. In 1796 he published his " Doctrine of Law," and in 1798 his " Doctrine of Morals," — separate parts of the applica tion which he purposed to make of the fundamental principles of the Wissenschaftslehre to the complete circle of knowledge. But this period of literary tran quillity was destined to be of short duration, for a storm soon burst upon him more violent than any he had hitherto encountered, which once more drove him for a long time from the path of peaceful inquiry into the angry field of polemical discussion.
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Atheism is a charge which the common understand ing has repeatedly brought against the finer specula tions of philosophy, when, in endeavouring to solve the riddle of existence, they have approached, albeit with reverence and humility, the Ineffable Source from which all existence proceeds. Shrouded from human comprehension in an obscurity from which chastened imagination is awed back, and thought retreats in conscious weakness, the Divine Nature is surely a theme on which man is little entitled to dogmatize. Accordingly, it is here that the philosophic intellect becomes most painfully aware of its own insufficiency. It feels that silence is the most fitting attitude of the finite being towards its Infinite and Incomprehensible Original, and that when it is needful that thought should shape itself into words, they should be those of diffidence and modest self-distrust. But the common understanding has no such humility; — its God is an Incarnate Divinity; imperfection imposes its own limi tations on the Illimitable, and clothes the inconceivable Spirit of the Universe in sensuous and intelligible forms derived from finite nature. In the world's childhood, —when the monstrous forms of earth were looked upon as the visible manifestations of Deity, or the unseen essences of nature were imagined to contain his presence; — in the world's youth, — when stream and forest, hill and valley, earth, air, and ocean, were peopled with divinities, graceful or grotesque, kind or malevolent, pure or polluted; — in the world's ages of toil, — when the crushed soul of the slave looked to his God for human sympathy, and sometimes fancied that he encountered worse than human oppression; — in all ages, men have coloured the brightness of Infinity ACCUSATION OF ATHEISM. 119 with hues derived from their own hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, virtues and crimes. And he who felt that the Eidolon of the age was an inadequate repre sentative of his own deeper thoughts of God, had need to place his hopes of justice in futurity, and make up his mind to be despised and rejected by the men of his own day. Socrates drank the poisoned cup because his conceptions of divine things surpassed the common mythology of Greece; Christ endured the cross at the hands of the Jews for having told them the truth which he had heard from the Father; Paul suffered persecution, indignity, and death, for he was a setter forth of strange Gods. Modern times have not been without their martyrs. Descartes died in a foreign land for his bold thought and open speech; Spinoza —the brave, kind-hearted, incorruptible Spinoza — was the object both of Jewish and Christian anathema. In our own land popular fanaticism drove Priestley from his home to seek refuge in a far distant clime; — and in our own days legalized bigotry tore asunder the sacred bonds which united one of the purest and most sensitive of living beings to his offspring, — the gentle, imaginative, deeply-religious Shelley was " an atheist!" And so, too, Fichte — whose ardent love of freedom made him an object of distrust and fear to timorous statesmen, and whose daring speculations struck dismay into the souls of creed-bound theologians —found himself assailed at once by religious and politi cal persecution. But in him tyranny once more found a man who had the courage to oppose himself, alone and unfriended, against its hate, and whose steadfast devotion to truth remained unshaken amid all the dan gers and difficulties which gathered round his way.
120 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
Fichte's doctrine concerning God has already been spoken of in a general way. It was the necessary result of his speculative position. The consciousness of the individual reveals itself alone; his knowledge cannot pass beyond the limits of his own being. His conceptions of other things and other beings are only his conceptions, — they are not those things or beings themselves. Consciousness is here alone with itself, and the world is nothing but the necessary limits which are set to its activity by the absolute law of its own being. From this point of view the common logical arguments for the existence of God, and in particular what is called the " argument from design" supposed to exist in the material world, entirely disap pears. We invest the outward universe with attributes, qualities, and relations, which are the growth and pro duct of our own minds, and then build up our faith in the Divine on an argument founded upon the phe nomena we have ourselves called into being. However plausible and attractive such an argument may appear to those who do not look below the mere surface of things, it will not bear the light of strict scientific investigation. Only from our idea of Duty, and our faith in the inevitable consequences of moral action, arises the belief in a principle of moral order in the world; — and this principle is God. But this living principle of a living universe must be Infinite; while all our ideas and conceptions are finite, and applicable only to finite beings, not to the Infinite. Thus we cannot, without inconsistency, apply to the Divinity the common predicates borrowed from finite existence. Consciousness, personality, and even substance, carry with them the idea of necessary limitation, and are the THEORY OF GOD. 121 attributes of relative and limited beings; to affirm these of God is to bring Him down to the rank of relative and limited being. The Divinity can thus only be thought of by us as pure Intelligence, spiritual life and energy; — but to comprehend this Intelligence in a conception, or to describe it in words, is mani festly impossible. All attempts to embrace the Infinite in the conceptions of the Finite are, and must be, only accommodations to the frailties of man. God is not an object of Knowledge but of Faith, — not to be ap proached by the understanding, but by the moral sense. Our intuition of a Moral Law, absolutely imperative in its authority and universal in its obligation, is the most certain and incontrovertible fact of our conscious ness. This law, addressed to free beings, must have a free and rational foundation: — in other words, there must be a living source of the moral order of the uni verse, — and this source is God. Our faith in God is thus the necessary consequence of our faith in the Moral Law; — the former possesses the same absolute certainty which all men admit to belong to the latter. — In his later writings Fichte advanced beyond this argument to a more comprehensive demonstration of the Divine Existence than that by which the being of a lawgiver is inferred from our intuition of the Moral Law. Of this later view, however, we shah1 have to speak more fully in a subsequent part of this memoir.