/. The internal force within it, saidst thou; — and now I bethink me, thou art right. I place this force also in space, and superadd it to the mass by which I regard space as filled.
Spirit. And what then, according to thy view, is the nature of the relation subsisting between this force and the mass?
/. The mass, with its properties, is itself the result and manifestation of the inward force. This force has two modes of operation: — one whereby it main- tains itself, and assumes this particular form in which it appears; another upon me, by which it affects me in a particular manner.
Spirit. Thou hast formerly sought for another sub- stratum for sensible attributes or qualities than the space which contains them; something besides this space, permanent amid the vicissitudes of perpetual change.
/. Yes, and this permanent substratum is found. It is force itself. This remains for ever the same amid all change, and it is this which assumes and supports all sensible attributes or qualities.
Spirit. Let us cast a glance back on all that we have now established. Thou feelest thyself in a cer- tain state, affected in a certain manner, which thou callest red, smooth, sweet, and so on. Of this thou knowest nothing, but simply that thou feelest, and feel- BOOK II. KNOWLEDGE. St est in this particular manner. Or dost thou know more than mere sensation?
/. No.
Spirit. Further, it is by thine own nature as an intelligence, that there is space spread out before thee; — or dost thou know anything more than this concern- ing space?
/. By no means.
Spirit. Between that state of simple sensation, and this space which is spread out before thee, there is not the smallest connexion except that they are both present in thy consciousness. Or dost thou perceive any other connexion between them?
7. I see none.
Spirit. But thou art a thinking, as well as a sensi- tive and intuitive, being; and yet neither dost thou know anything more of this matter, than that so thou art. Thou dost not merely feel thy sensible state, — thou canst also conceive of it in thought; but it af- fords thee no complete thought; thou art compelled to add something to it, an external foundation, a for- eign power. Or dost thou know more of it than that thou dost so think, and that thou art compelled so to think?
7. I can know nothing more respecting it. I can- not proceed beyond my thought; for simply because I think it does it become my thought and fall under the inevitable laws of my being.
Spirit. Through this thought of thine, there first arises a connexion between thy own state which thou feelest, and the space which thou dost intuitively con- template; thou supposest in the latter the foundation of the former. Is it not so?
7. It is so. Thou hast clearly proved that I pro- 82 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
duce this connexion in my consciousness by my own thought only, and that such a connexion is neither di- rectly felt, nor intuitively perceived. But of any con- nexion beyond the limits of my consciousness I cannot speak; I cannot even describe such a connexion in any manner of way; for even in speaking of it I must be conscious of it; and, since this consciousness can only be a thought, the connexion itself could be nothing more than a thought; and this is precisely the same connexion which occurs in my ordinary natural con- sciousness, and no other. I cannot proceed a hair's- breadth beyond this consciousness, any more than I can spring out of myself. All attempts to conceive of an absolute connexion between things in themselves, and the I in itself, are but attempts to ignore our own thought, — a strange forgetfulness of the undeniable fact that we can have no thought without having — thought it. A thing in itself is a thought; — this, namely, that there is a great thought which yet no man has ever comprehended.
Spirit. From thee then I need fear no objection to the principle now established: — that our conscious- ness of things out of ourselves is absolutely nothing more than the product of our own presentative fac- ulty, and that, with regard to external things, we can produce in this way nothing more than simply what we know, i. e. what is established by means of our consciousness itself, as the result of our being pos- sessed the consciousness generally and of this particular determinate consciousness subject to such and such laws.
/. I cannot refute this. It is so.
Spirit. Thou canst not then object to the bolder statement of the same proposition; that in that which BOOK II. KNOWLEDGE. 83 we call knowledge and observation of outward things, we at all times recognise and observe ourselves only; and that in all our consciousness we know of nothing whatever but of ourselves and of our own determinate states.
I say, thou wilt not be able to advance aught against this proposition; for if the external world generally arises for us only through our own consciousness, what is particular and multiform in this external world can arise in no other way; and if the connexion be- tween what is external to us and ourselves is merely a connexion in our own thought, then is the connexion of the multifarious objects of the external world among themselves undoubtedly this and no other. As clearly as I have now pointed out to thee the origin of this system of objects beyond thyself and their re- lation to thee, could I also show thee the law accord- ing to which there arises an infinite multiplicity of such objects, mutually connected, reciprocally determining each other with rigid necessity, and thus forming a complete world-system, as thou thyself hast well de- scribed it; and I only spare myself this task because I find that thou hast already admitted the conclusion for the sake of which alone I should have under- taken it.
/. I see it all, and must assent to it.
Spirit. And with this insight, mortal, be free, and for ever released from the fear which has degraded and tormented thee! Thou wilt no longer tremble at a necessity which exists only in thine own thought; no longer fear to be crushed by things which are the product of thine own mind; no longer place thyself, the thinking being, in the same class with the thoughts which proceed from thee. As long as thou couldst 84 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
believe that a system of things, such as thou hast de- scribed, really existed out of, and independently of, thee, and that thou thyself mightst be but a link in this chain, such a fear was well grounded. Now when thou hast seen that all this exists only in and through thyself, thou wilt doubtless no longer fear that which thou dost now recognise as thine own creation.
It was from this fear that I wished to set thee free. Thou art delivered from it, and I now leave thee to thyself.
/. Stay, deceitful Spirit! Is this all the wisdom towards which thou hast directed my hopes, and dost thou boast that thou hast set me free? Thou hast set me free, it is true: — thou hast absolved me from all dependence; for thou hast transformed myself, and everything around me on which I could possibly be dependent, into nothing. Thou hast abolished neces- sity by annihilating all existence.
Spirit. Is the danger so great?
/. And thou canst jest! — According to thy sys- tem— Spirit. My system? Whatever we have agreed upon, we have produced in common; we have laboured together, and thou hast understood everything as well as I myself. But it would still be difficult for thee at present even to guess at my true and perfect mode of thought.
/. Call thy thoughts by what name thou wilt; by all that thou hast hitherto said, there is nothing, abso- lutely nothing but presentations, — modes of conscious- ness, and of consciousness only. But a presentation is to me only the picture, the shadow, of a reality; in BOOK II. KNOWLEDGE. 85 itself it cannot satisfy me, and has not the smallest worth. I might be content that this material world beyond me should vanish into a mere picture, or be dissolved into a shadow; I am not dependent on it: — but according to thy previous reasoning, I myself dis- appear no less than it; I myself am transformed into a mere presentation, without meaning and without pur- pose. Or tell me, is it otherwise?
Spirit. I say nothing in my own name. Examine, — help thyself!
/. I appear to myself as a body existing in space, with organs of sense and of action, as a physical force governed by a will. Of all this thou wilt say, as thou hast before said of objects out of myself, the thinking being, that it is a product of sensation, intuition, and thought combined.
Spirit. Undoubtedly. I will even show thee, step by step, if thou desirest it, the laws according to which thou appearest to thyself in consciousness as an organic body, with such and such senses, — as a physical force, &c., and thou wilt be compelled to admit the truth of what I show thee.
J. I foresee that result. As I have been compelled to admit that what I call sweet, red, hard, and so on, is nothing more than my own affection; and that only by intuition and thought it is transposed out of myself into space, and regarded as the property of something existing independently of me; so shall I also be com- pelled to admit that this body, with all its organs, is nothing but a sensible manifestation, in a determinate portion of space, of myself the inward thinking be- ing;— that I, the spiritual entity, the pure intelligence, and I, the bodily frame in the physical world, are one and the same, merely viewed from two different sides, 86' THE VOCATION OF MAN.
and conceived of by two different faculties; — the first by pure thought, the second by external intuition.
Spirit. This would certainly be the result of any inquiry that might be instituted.
/. And this thinking, spiritual entity, this intelli- gence which by intuition is transformed into a material body, — what can even it be, according to these princi- ples, but a product of my own thought, something merely conceived of by me because I am compelled to imagine its existence by virtue of a law to me wholly inconceivable, proceeding from nothing and tending to nothing.
Spirit. It is possible.
/. Thou becomest hesitating and faint-hearted. It is not possible only: it is necessary, according to these principles.
This perceiving, thinking, willing, intelligent entity, or whatever else thou mayest name that which pos- sesses the faculties of perception, thought, and so forth; — that in which these faculties inhere, or in what- ever other way thou mayest express this thought; — how do I attain a knowledge of it? Am I immedi- ately conscious of it? How can I be? It is only of actual and specific acts of perception, thought, will, &c., as of particular occurrences, that I am imme- diately conscious; not of the capacities through which they are performed, and still less of a being in whom these capacities inhere. I perceive, directly and in- tuitively, this specific thought which occupies me dur- ing the present moment, and other specific thoughts in other moments; and here this inward intellectual in- tuition, this immediate consciousness, ends. This in- ward intuitive thought, now becomes itself an object of thought; but according to the laws under which BOOK II. KNOWLEDGE. 87 alone I can think, it seems to me imperfect and incom- plete, just as formerly the thought of my sensible states was but an imperfect thought. As formerly to mere passivity I unconsciously superadded in thought an active element, so here to my determinate state (my actual thought or will) I superadd a determinable ele- ment (an infinite, possible thought or will) simply be- cause / must do so, and for the same reason, but with- out being conscious of this mental opposition. This manifold possible thought I further comprehend as one definite whole; — once more because I must do so, since I am unable to comprehend anything indefinite, — and thus I obtain the idea of a finite capacity of thought, and — since this idea carries with it the notion of a something independent of the thought itself — of a being or entity which possesses this capacity.
But, on higher principles, it may be made still more conceivable how this thinking being is produced by its own thought. Thought in itself is genetic, assum- ing the previous creation of an object immediately re- vealed, and occupying itself with the description of this object. Intuition gives the naked fact, and nothing more. Thought explains this fact, and unites it to another, not found in intuition, but produced purely by thought itself, from which it, the fact, proceeds. So here. I am conscious of a determinate thought; thus far, and no farther, does intuitive consciousness carry me. I think this determinate thought, that is, I bring it forth from an indeterminate, but determinable, possibility of thought. In this way I proceed with everything determinate which is presented in imme- diate consciousness, and thus arise for me all those series of capacities, and of beings possessing these ca- pacities, whose existence I assume.
88 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
Spirit. Even with respect to thyself, therefore, thou art conscious only that thou feelest, perceivest, or thinkest, in this or that determinate manner /. That / feel, / perceive, I think?— that I, as the efficient principle, produce the sensation, the intuition, the thought? By no means! Not even so much as this have thy principles left me.
Spirit. Possibly.
/. Necessarily; — for see: All that I know is my consciousness itself. All consciousness is either an im- mediate or a mediate consciousness. The first is self- consciousness; the second consciousness of that which is not myself. What I call / is therefore absolutely nothing more than a certain modification of conscious- ness, which is called / just because it is immediate, re- turning into itself, and not directed outward. Since all other consciousness is possible only under the condi- tion of this immediate consciousness, it is obvious that this consciousness which is called / must accompany all my other conceptions, be necessarily contained in them, although not always clearly perceived by me, and that in each moment of my consciousness I must refer everything to this I, and not to the particular thing out of myself thought of at the moment. In this way the / would at every moment vanish and reap- pear; and for every new conception a new / would arise, and this / would never signify anything more than — not the thing.
This scattered self-consciousness is now combined by thought, — by mere thought, I say — and presented in the unity of a supposed capacity of thought. Accord- ing to this supposition, all conceptions which are ac- companied by the immediate consciousness already spoken of, must proceed from one and the same ca- BOOK II. KNOWLEDGE. 89 pacity, which inheres in one and the same entity; and thus there arises for me the notion of the identity and personality of my I, and of an efficient and real power in this person, — necessarily a mere fiction, since this capacity and this entity are themselves only supposi- tions.
Spirit. Thou reasonest correctly.
/. And thou hast pleasure in this! I may then in- deed say " it is thought," — and yet I can scarcely say even this; — rather, strictly speaking, I ought to say " the thought appears that I feel, perceive, think," — but by no means " that I feel, perceive, think." The first only is fact; the second is an imaginary addition to the fact.
Spirit. It is well expressed.
/. There is nothing enduring, either out of me, or in me, but only a ceaseless change. I know of no being, not even of my own. There is no being. I myself absolutely know not, and am not. Pictures are: — they are the only things which exist, and they know of themselves after the fashion of pictures: — pictures which float past without there being anything past which they float; which, by means of like pic- tures, are connected with each other: — pictures with- out anything which is pictured in them, without sig- nificance and without aim. I myself am one of these pictures; — nay, I am not even this, but merely a con- fused picture of the pictures. All reality is trans- formed into a strange dream, without a life which is dreamed of, and without a mind which dreams it; — into a dream which is woven together in a dream of itself. Intuition is the dream; thought, — the source of all the being and all the reality which I imagine, of 90 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
my own being, my own powers, and my own pur- poses,— is the dream of that dream.
Spirit. Thou hast well understood it all. Employ the sharpest expressions to make this result hateful, since thou must submit to it. And this thou must do. Thou hast clearly seen that it cannot be otherwise. Or wilt thou now retract thy admissions, and justify thy retractation on principle?
/. By no means. I have seen, and now see clearly, that it is so; — yet I cannot believe it.
Spirit. Thou seest it clearly, and yet canst not be- lieve it? That is a different matter.
/. Thou art a profligate spirit: thy knowledge itself is profligacy, and springs from profligacy; and I cannot thank thee for having led me on this path!
Spirit. Short-sighted mortal! When men venture to look into being, and see as far as themselves, and a little further, — such as thou art call it profligacy. I have allowed thee to deduce the results of our inquiry in thine own way, to analyze them, and to clothe them in hateful expressions. Didst thou then think that these results were less known to me than to thyself, — that I did not understand, as well as thou, how by these principles all reality was thoroughly annihilated, and transformed into a dream? Didst thou then take me for a blind admirer and advocate of this system, as a complete system of the human mind?
Thou didst desire to know, and thou hadst taken a wrong road. Thou didst seek knowledge where no knowledge can reach; and hadst even persuaded thy- self that thou hadst obtained an insight into some- thing which is opposed to the very nature of all in- BOOK II. KNOWLEDGE. 91 sight. I found thee in this condition. I wished to free thee from thy false knowledge; but by no means to bring thee the true.
Thou didst desire to know of thy knowledge. Art thou surprised that in this way thou didst discover nothing more than that of which thou desiredst to know, — thy knowledge itself; and wouldst thou have had it otherwise? What has its origin in and through knowledge, is merely knowledge. All knowledge, however, is but pictures, representations; and there is always something awanting in it, — that which cor- responds to the representation. This want cannot be supplied by knowledge; a system of mere knowledge is necessarily a system of mere pictures, wholly with- out reality, significance or aim. Didst thou expect anything else? Wouldst thou change the very nature of thy mind, and desire thy knowledge to be some- thing more than knowledge?
The reality, in which thou didst formerly believe, — a material world existing independently of thee, of which thou didst fear to become the slave, — has van- ished; for this whole material world arises only through knowledge, and is itself our knowledge; but knowledge is not reality, just because it is knowledge. Thou hast seen through the illusion; and, without be- lying thy better insight, thou canst never again give thyself up to it. This is the sole merit which I claim for the system which we have together discovered; — it destroys and annihilates error. It cannot give us truth, for in itself it is absolutely empty. Thou dost now seek, and with good right as I well know, something real lying beyond mere appearance, another reality 92 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
than that which has thus been annihilated. But in vain wouldst thou labour to create this reality by means of thy knowledge or out of thy knowledge; or to embrace it by thy understanding. If thou hast no other organ by which to apprehend it, thou wilt never find it.
But thou hast such an organ. Arouse and animate it, and thou wilt attain to perfect tranquillity. I leave thee alone with thyself.
BOOK III.
FAITH.
TERRIBLE Spirit, thy discourse has smitten me to the ground. But thou referrest me to myself, and what were I could anything out of myself irrecoverably cast me down? I will, — yes, surely I will follow thy counsel.
What seekest thou, then, my complaining heart? What is it that excites thee against a system to which my understanding cannot raise the slightest objec- tion?
This it is: — I demand something beyond a mere presentation or conception; something that is, has been, and will be, even if the presentation were not; and which the presentation only records, without pro- ducing it, or in the smallest degree changing it. A mere presentation I now see to be a deceptive show; my presentations must have a meaning beneath them, and if my entire knowledge revealed to me nothing but knowledge, I would be defrauded of my whole life. That there is nothing whatever but my presentations or conceptions, is, to the natural sense of mankind, a silly and ridiculous conceit which no man can seriously entertain, and which requires no refutation. To the better-informed judgment, which knows the deep, and, by mere reasoning, irrefragable grounds for this as- sertion, it is a prostrating, annihilating thought.
And what, then, is this something lying beyond all 93 94 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
presentation, towards which I stretch forward with such ardent longing? What is the power with which it draws me towards it? What is the central point in my soul to which it is attached, and with which only it can be effaced?
" Not merely TO KNOW, but according to thy knowl- edge TO DO, is thy vocation: " — thus is it loudly pro- claimed in the innermost depths of my soul, as soon as I recollect myself for a moment, and turn my ob- servation upon myself. " Not for idle contemplation of thyself, not for brooding over devout sensations; — no, for action art thou here; thine action, and thine action alone, determines thy worth."
This voice leads me out from presentation, from mere cognition, to something which lies beyond it and is entirely opposed to it; to something which is greater and higher than all knowledge, and which contains within itself the end and object of all knowledge. When I 'act, I doubtless know that I act, and how I act; nevertheless this knowledge is not the act itself, but only the observation of it. This voice thus an- nounces to me precisely that which I sought; a some- thing lying beyond mere knowledge, and, in its nature, wholly independent of knowledge.
Thus it is, I know it immediately. But, having once entered within the domain of speculation, the doubt which has been awakened within me will secretly en- dure and will continue to disturb me. Since I have placed myself in this position, I can obtain no com- plete satisfaction until everything which I accept is justified before the tribunal of speculation. I have thus to ask myself, — how is it thus? Whence arises that voice in my soul which directs me to something beyond mere presentation and knowledge?
BOOK III. FAITH. 95 BOOK III. FAITH. 95 There is within me an impulse to absolute, inde- pendent self-activity. Nothing is more insupportable to me, than to be merely by another, for another, and through another; I must be something for myself and by myself alone. This impulse I feel along with the perception of my own existence, it is inseparably united to my consciousness of myself.
I explain this feeling to myself by reflection; and, as it were, add to this blind impulse the power of sight by means of thought. According to this impulse I must act as an absolutely independent being: — thus I understand and translate the impulse. I must be in- dependent. Who am I? Subject and object in one, — the conscious being and that of which I am conscious, gifted with intuitive knowledge and myself revealed in that intuition, the thinking mind and myself the object of the thought — inseparable, and ever present to each other. As both, must I be what I am, abso- lutely by myself alone; — by myself originate concep- tions,— by myself produce a condition of things lying beyond these conceptions. But how is the latter pos- sible? With nothing I cannot connect any being whatsoever; from nothing there can never arise some- thing; my objective thought is necessarily mediative only. But any being which is connected with another being becomes thereby dependent; — it is no longer a primary, original, and genetic, but only a secondary and derived being. I am constrained to connect my- self with something; — with another being I cannot connect myself without losing that independence which is the condition of my own existence.
My conception and origination of a purpose, how- ever, is, by its very nature, absolutely free, — producing something out of nothing. With such a conception I 96 THE VOCATION OF MAN.
must connect my activity, in order that it may be pos- sible to regard it as free, and as proceeding absolutely from myself alone.
In the following manner therefore do I conceive of my independence as /. I ascribe to myself the power of originating a conception simply because I originate it, of originating this conception simply because I originate this one, — by the absolute sovereignty of myself as an intelligence. I further ascribe to myself the power of manifesting this conception beyond itself by means of an action; — ascribe to myself a real, active power, capable of producing something beyond itself, — a power which is entirely different from the mere power of conception. These conceptions, which are called conceptions of design, or purposes, are not, like the conceptions of mere knowledge, copies of some- thing already existing, but rather types of something yet to be; the real power lies beyond them, and is in itself independent of them; — it only receives from them its immediate determinations, which are apprehended by knowledge. Such an independent power it is that, in consequence of this impulse, I ascribe to myself.
Here then, it appears, is the point at which conscious- ness connects itself with reality; — the real efficiency of my conception, and the real power of action which, in consequence of it, I am compelled to ascribe to my- self, is this point. Let it be as it may with the reality of a sensible world beyond me; I possess reality and comprehend it, — it lies within my own being, it is na- tive to myself.
I conceive this, my real power of action, in thought, but I do not create it by thought. The immediate feel- ing of my impulse to independent activity lies at the foundation of this thought; the thought does no more BOOK III. FAITH. 97 than portray this feeling, and accept it in its own form, — the form of thought. This procedure may, I think, be vindicated before the tribunal of speculation.
What! Shall I, once more, knowingly and inten- tionally deceive myself? This procedure can by no means be justified before thavt strict tribunal.