Figure, motion, thought, in me, are not dependent on each other and consequent on each other; — so that I think and thereby conceive of the forms and mo- tions that surround me in such or such a manner be- cause they are so, or on the other hand, that they are so because I so conceive of them, — but they are all simultaneous and harmonious developments of one and the same power, the manifestation of which necessarily assumes the form of a complete creature of my species, and which may thus be called the man-form- ing power. A thought arises within me absolutely, without dependence on anything else; the correspond- ing form likewise arises absolutely, and also the mo- tion which corresponds to both. I am not what I am, because I think so, or will so; nor do I think and will it, because I am so; but I am, and I think, both abso- lutely;— both harmonize with each other by virtue of a higher power.
As surely as those original powers of Nature exist for themselves, and have their own internal laws and purposes, so surely must their outward manifestations, if they are left to themselves and not suppressed by any foreign force, endure for a certain period of time, and describe a certain circle of change. That which disappears even at the moment of its production is assuredly not the manifestation of one primordial power, but only a consequence of the combined opera- 15 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
tion of various powers. The plant, a particular mode or manifestation of the formative-power of Nature, when left to itself, proceeds from the first germina- tion to the ripening of the seed. Man, a particular mode or manifestation of all the powers of Nature in their union, when left to himself, proceeds from birth to death in old age. Hence, the duration of the life of plants and of men, and the varied modes of this life.
This form, this proper motion, this thought, in har- mony with each other, — this duration of all these es- sential qualities, amidst many non-essential changes, belong to me in so far as I am a being of my species. But the man-forming power of Nature had already dis- played itself before I existed, under a multitude of outward conditions and circumstances. Such out- ward circumstances have determined the particular manner of its present activity, which has resulted in the production of precisely such an individual of my species as I am. The same circumstances can never return, unless the whole course of Nature should re- peat itself, and two Natures arise instead of one; hence the same individuals, who have once existed, can never again come into actual being. Further, the man-form- ing power of Nature manifests itself, during the same time in which I exist, under all conditions and circum- stances possible in that time. But no combination of such circumstances can perfectly resemble those through which I came into existence, unless the universe could divide itself into two perfectly similar but independent worlds. It is impossible that two perfectly similar individuals can come into actual existence at the same time. It is thus determined what I, this definite person, must be; and the general law by which I am what BOOK I. DOUBT. i?
I am is discovered. I am that which the man-forming power of Nature — having been what it was, being what it is, and standing in this particular relation to the other opposing powers of Nature — could become; and — there being no ground of limitation within itself, — since it could become, necessarily must become. I am that which I am, because in this particular position of the great system of Nature, only such a person, and absolutely no other, was possible; — and a spirit who could look through the innermost secrets of Nature, would, from knowing one single man, be able dis- tinctly to declare what men had formerly existed, and what men would exist at any future moment; — in one individual he would discern all actual and possible individuals. It is this, my inter-connexion with the whole system of Nature, which determines what I have been, what I am, and what I shall be; and the same spirit would be able, from any possible moment of my existence, to discover infallibly what I had pre- viously been, and what I was afterwards to become. All that, at any time, I am and shall be, I am and shall be of absolute necessity; and it is impossible that I should be anything else.
I am, indeed, conscious of myself as an independent, and, in many occurrences of my life, a free being; but this consciousness may easily be explained on the principles already laid down, and may be thoroughly reconciled with the conclusions which have been drawn. My immediate consciousness, my proper per- ception, cannot go beyond myself and the modes of my own being; — I have immediate knowledge of my- self alone: whatever I may know more than this, I i8 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
know only by inference, in the same way in which I have inferred the existence of original powers of Na- ture, which yet do not lie within the circle of my perceptions. I myself however, — that which 1 call me — my personality, — am not the man-forming power of Nature, but only one of its manifestations; and it is only of this manifestation that I am conscious, as my- self, not of that power whose existence I only infer from the necessity of explaining my own. This mani- festation, however, in its true nature, is really the product of an original and independent power, and must appear as such in consciousness. On this account I recognise myself generally as an inde- pendent being. For this reason I appear to myself as free in certain occurrences of my life, when these occurrences are the manifestations of the independent power which falls to my share as an individual; (is restrained and limited, when, by any combination of outward circumstances, which may arise in time, but do not lie within the original limitations of my per- sonality, I cannot do what my individual power would naturally, if unobstructed, be capable of doing; as compelled, when this individual power, by the supe- riority of antagonistic powers, is constrained to manifest itself even in opposition to the laws of its own nature.
Bestow consciousness on a tree, and let it grow, spread out its branches, and bring forth leaves and buds, blossoms and fruits, after its kind, without hin- drance or obstruction: — it will perceive no limitation to its existence in being only a tree, a tree of this par- ticular species, and this particular individual of the species; it will feel itself perfectly free, because, in ail those manifestations, it will do nothing but what its BOOK I. DOUBT. ig BOOK I. DOUBT. ig nature requires; and it will desire to do nothing else, because it can only desire what that nature requires. But let its growth be hindered by unfavourable weather, want of nourishment, or other causes, and it will feel itself limited and restrained, because an im- pulse which actually belongs to its nature is not satis- fied. Bind its free waving boughs to a wall, force foreign branches on it by ingrafting, and it will feel itself compelled to one course of action; its branches will grow, but not in the direction they would have taken if left to themselves; it will produce fruits, but not those which belong to its original nature. In im- mediate consciousness, I appear to myself as free; by reflection on the whole of Nature, I discover that free- dom is absolutely impossible; the former must be sub- ordinate to the latter, for it can be explained only by means of it.
What high satisfaction is attained through the sys- tem which my understanding has thus built up! What order, what firm connexion, what comprehensive su- pervision does it introduce into the whole fabric of my knowledge! Consciousness is here no longer that stranger in Nature, whose connexion with existence is so incomprehensible; it is native to it, and indeed one of its necessary manifestations. Nature rises gradu- ally in the fixed series of her productions. In rude matter she is a simple existence; in organized matter she returns within herself to internal activity; in the plant, to produce form; in the animal, motion; — in man, as her highest masterpiece, she turns inward that she may perceive and contemplate herself, — in him she, as it were, doubles herself, and, from being mere ex- istence, becomes existence and consciousness in one.
so THE VOCATION OF MAN.
How I am and must be conscious of my own being and of its determinations, is, in this, connexion, easily understood. My being and my knowledge have one common foundation, — my own nature. The being within me, even because it is my being, is conscious of itself. Quite as conceivable is my consciousness of corporeal objects existing beyond myself. The powers in whose manifestation my personality con- sists,— the formative — the self-moving — the thinking powers — are not these same powers as they exist in Nature at large, but only a certain definite portion of them; and that they are but such a portion, is because there are so many other existences beyond me. From the former, I can infer the latter; from the limitation, that which limits. Because I myself am not this or that, which yet belongs to the connected system of ex- istence, it must exist beyond me; — thus reasons the thinking principle within me. Of my own limitation, I am immediately conscious, because it is a part of myself, and only by reason of it do I possess an actual existence; my consciousness of the source of this lim- itation,— of that which I myself am not, — is produced by the former, and arises out of it.
Away, then, with those pretended influences and operations of outward things upon me, by means of which they are supposed to pour in upon me a knowl- edge which is not in themselves and cannot flow forth from them. The ground upon which I assume the ex- istence of something beyond myself, does not lie out of myself, but within me, in the limitation of my own personality. By means of this limitation, the think- ing principle of Nature within me proceeds out of it- self, and is able to survey itself as a whole, although, in each individual, from a different point of view.
BOOK I. DOUBT. 21 In the same way there arises within me the idea of other thinking beings like myself. I, or the think- ing power of Nature within me, possess some thoughts which seem to have developed themselves within my- self as a particular form of Nature; and others, which seem not to have so developed themselves. And so it is in reality. The former are my own peculiar, indi- vidual contributions to the general circle of thought in Nature; the latter are deduced from them, as what must surely have a place in that circle; but being only inferences so far as I am concerned, must find that place, not in me, but in other thinking beings: — hence I conclude that there are other thinking beings besides myself. In short, Nature, becomes in me conscious of herself as a whole, but only by beginning with my own individual consciousness, and proceeding from thence to the consciousness of universal being by in- ference founded on the principle of causality; — that is, she is conscious of the conditions under which alone such a form, such a motion, such a thought as that in which my personality consists, is possible. The principle of causality is the point of transition, from the particular within myself, to the universal which lies beyond myself; and the distinguishing characteristic of those two kinds of knowledge is this, that the one is immediate perception, while the other is in- ference.
In each individual, Nature beholds herself from a particular point of view. I call myself — 7, and thee — thou] thou callest thyself — I, and me — thou; I lie beyond thee, as thou beyond me. Of what" is without me, I comprehend first those things which touch me most nearly; thou, those which touch thee most nearly; — from these points we each proceed onwards to the 22 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
next proximate; but we describe very different paths, which may here and there intersect each other, but never run parallel. There is an infinite variety of pos- sible individuals, and hence also an infinite variety of possible starting points of consciousness. This con- sciousness of all individuals taken together, constitutes, the complete consciousness of the universe; and there is no other, for only in the individual is there definite completeness and reality.
The testimony of consciousness in each individual is altogether sure and trustworthy, if it be indeed the consciousness here described; for this consciousness develops itself out of the whole prescribed course of Nature, and Nature cannot contradict herself. Wher- ever there is a conception, there must be a correspond- ing existence, for conceptions are only produced simultaneously with the production of the correspond- ing realities. To each individual his own particular consciousness is wholly determined, for it proceeds from his own nature: — no one can have other con- ceptions, or a greater or less degree of vitality in these conceptions, than he actually has. The substance of his conceptions is determined by the position which he assumes in the universe; their clearness and vitality, by the higher or lower degree of efficiency mani- fested by the power of humanity in his person. Give to Nature the determination of one single element of a person, let it seem to be ever so trivial, — the course of a muscle, the turn of a hair, — and, had she a universal consciousness and were able to reply to thee, she could tell thee all the thoughts which could belong to this person during the whole period of his conscious existence.
In this system also, the phenomenon of our con- BOOK I. DOUBT. 2$ BOOK I. DOUBT. 2$ sciousness which we call Will, becomes thoroughly in- telligible. A volition is the immediate consciousness of the activity of any of the powers of Nature within us. The immediate consciousness of an effort of these powers which has not yet become a reality because it is hemmed in by opposing powers, is, in conscious- ness, inclination or desire; — the struggle of contend- ing powers is irresolution; — the victory of one is the determination of the Will. If the 'power which strives after activity be only that which we have in common with the plant or the anim!al, there arises a division and degradation of our inward being; the desire is unworthy of our rank in the order of things, and, according to a common use of language, may be called a low one. If this striving power be the whole undi- vided force of humanity, then is the desire worthy of our nature, and it may be called a high one. The latter effort, considered absolutely, may be called a moral law. The activity of this latter is a virtuous Will, and the course of action resulting from it is virtue. The triumph of the former not in harmony with the latter is vice; such a triumph over the latter, and despite its opposition, is crime.
The power, which, on each individual occasion, proves triumphant, triumphs of necessity; its superior- ity is determined by the whole connexion of the uni- verse; and hence by the whole connexion is the vice or crime of each individual irrevocably determined. Give to Nature, once more, the course of a muscle, the turn of a hair, in any particular individual, and, had she the power of universal thought and could answer thee, she would be able to declare all the good and evil deeds of his life from the beginning to the end of it. But still virtue does not cease to be virtue, nor 24 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
vice to be vice. The virtuous man is a noble product of nature; the vicious, an ignoble and contemptible one: — although both are necessary results of the con- nected system of the universe.
Repentance is the consciousness of the continued effort of humanity within me, even after it has been overcome, associated with the disagreeable sense of hav- ing been subdued; a disquieting but still precious pledge of our nobler nature. From this consciousness of the fundamental impulse of our nature, arises the sense which has been called ' conscience,' and its greater or less degree of strictness and susceptibility, down to the absolute want of it in many individuals. The ig- noble man is incapable of repentance, for in him humanity has at no time sufficient strength to contend with the lower impulses. Reward and punishment are the natural consequences. of virtue and vice for the production of new virtue and new vice. By frequent and important victories, our peculiar power is extended and strengthened; by inaction or frequent defeat, it becomes ever weaker and weaker. The ideas of guilt and accountability have no meaning but in external leg- islation. He only has incurred guilt, and must render an account of his crime, who compels society to employ artificial external force in order to restrain in him the activity of those impulses which are injurious to the general welfare.
My inquiry is closed, and my desire of knowledge satisfied. I know what I am, and wherein the nature of my species consists. I am a manifestation, deter- mined by the whole system of the universe, of a power of Nature which is determined by itself. To under- stand thoroughly my particular personal being in its BOOK I. DOUBT. 25 deepest sources is impossible, for I cannot penetrate into the innermost recesses of Nature. But I am immediately conscious of this my personal existence. I know right well what I am at the present moment; I can for the most part remember what I have been formerly; and I shall learn what I shall be, when what is now future shall become present experience.
I cannot indeed make use of this discovery in the regulation of my actions, for I do not truly act at all, but Nature acts in me; and to make myself anything else than that for which Nature has intended me, is what I cannot even propose to myself, for I am not the author of my own being, but Nature has rriade me myself, and all that I am. I may repent, and rejoice, and form good resolutions; — although, strictly speak- ing, I cannot even do this, for all these things come to me of themselves, when it is appointed for them to come; — but most certainly I cannot, by all my repentance, and by all my resolutions^ produce the smallest change in that which I must once for all inevitably become. I stand under the inexorable power of rigid Necessity: — should she have destined me to become a fool and a profligate, a fool and a profligate without doubt I shall become; should she have destined me to be wise and good, wise and good I shall doubtless be. There is neither blame nor merit to her nor to me. She stands under her own laws, I under hers. I see this, and feel that my tranquillity would be best ensured by subjecting my wishes also to that Necessity to which my being is wholly subject.
But, oh these opposing wishes! For why should I any longer hide from myself the sadness, the horror, 26 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
the amazement with which I was penetrated when I saw how my inquiry must end? I had solemnly prom- ised myself that my inclinations should have no in- fluence in the direction of my thoughts; and I have not knowingly allowed them any such influence. But may I not at last confess that this result contradicts the profoundest aspirations, wishes, and wants of my being. And, despite of the accuracy and the decisive strictness of the proofs by which it seems to be sup- ported, how can I truly believe in a theory of my being which strikes at the very root of that being, which so distinctly contradicts all the purposes for which alone I live, and without which I should loathe my exist- ence?
Why must my heart mourn at, and be lacerated by, that which so perfectly satisfies my understanding? While nothing in Nature contradicts itself, is man alone a contradiction? Or perhaps not man in gen- eral, but only me and those who resemble me? Had I but been contented to remain amid the pleasant de- lusions that surrounded me, satisfied with the imme- diate consciousness of my existence, and never raised those questions concerning its foundation, the answer to which has caused me this misery! But if this an- swer be true, then I must of necessity have raised these questions: I indeed raised them not, — the think- ing nature within me raised them. I was destined to this misery, and I weep in vain the lost innocence of soul which can never return to me again.
But courage! Let all else be lost, so that this at least remains! Merely for the sake of my wishes, did they lie ever so deep or seem ever so sacred, I cannot BOOK I. DOUBT. 27 renounce what rests on incontrovertible evidence. But perhaps I may have erred in my investigation; — perhaps I may have only partially comprehended and imperfectly considered the grounds upon which I had to proceed. I ought to retrace the inquiry again from the opposite end, in order that I may at least possess a correct starting point. What is it, then, that I find so repugnant, so painful, in the decision to which I have come? What is it, which I desired to find in its place? Let me before all things make clear to myself what are these inclinations to which I appeal.
That I should be destined to be wise and good, or foolish and profligate, without power to change this destiny in aught, — in the former case having no merit, and in the latter incurring no guilt, — this it was that filled me with amazement and horror. The reference of my being, and of all the determinations of my be- ing, to a cause lying out of myself, — the manifestations of which were again determined by other causes out of itself, — this it was from which I so violently re- coiled. That freedom which was not my own, but that of a foreign power without me, and even in that, only a limited half-freedom, — this it was which did not satisfy me. I myself, — that of which I am conscious as my own being and person, but which in this system appears as only the manifestation of a higher exist- ence,— this " I " would be independent, — would be something, not by another or through another, but of myself, — and, as such, would be the final root of all my own determinations. The rank which in this sys- tem is assumed by an original power of Nature I would myself assume; with this difference, that the modes of my manifestations shall not be determined by any for- eign power. I desire to possess an inward and pe- 28 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
culiar power of manifestation, infinitely manifold like those powers of Nature; and this power shall manifest itself in the particular way in which it does manifest itself, for no other reason than because it does so manifest itself; not, like these powers of Nature, because it is placed under such or such out- ward conditions.
What then, according to my wish, shall be the espe- cial seat and centre of this peculiar inward power? Evidently not my body, for that I willingly allow to pass for a manifestation of the powers of Nature, — at least so far as its constitution is concerned, if not with regard to its farther determinations; not my sensuous inclinations, for these I regard as a relation of those powers to my consciousness. Hence it must be my thought and will. I would exercise my volun- tary power freely, for the accomplishment of aims which I shall have freely adopted; and this will, as its ultimate ground which can be determined by no higher, shall move and mould, first my own body, and through it the surrounding world. My active powers shall be under the control of my will alone, and shall be set in motion by nothing else than by it. Thus it shall be. There shall be a Supreme Good in the spiritual world; I shall have the power to seek this with freedom until I find it, to acknowledge it as such when found, and it shall be my fault if I do not find it. This Supreme Good I shall will to know, merely because I will it; and if I will anything else instead of it, the fault shall be mine. My actions shall be the result of this will, and without it there shall absolutely no action of mine ensue, since there shall be no other power over my actions but this will. Then shall my powers, deter- mined by, and subject to the dominion of, my will,