As the class of representations I have dealt with in this chapter belongs exclusively to Man, and as all that distinguishes human life so forcibly from that of animals and confers so great a superiority on man, is, as we have shown, based upon his faculty for these representations, this faculty evidently and unquestionably constitutes that Reason, which from time immemorial has been reputed the prerogative of mankind. Likewise all that has been considered by all nations and in all times explicitly as the work or manifestation of the Reason, of the λόγος, λόγιμον, λογιστικόν, ratio, la ragione, la razon, la raison, reason, may evidently also be reduced to what is only possible for abstract, discursive, reflective, mediate knowledge, conditioned by words, and not for mere intuitive, immediate, sensuous knowledge, which belongs to animals also. Cicero rightly places ratio et oratio together,[132] and describes them as quæ docendo, discendo, communicando, disceptando, judicando, conciliat inter se homines, &c. &c., and[133] rationem dico, et, si placet, pluribus verbis, mentem, consilium, cogitationem, prudentiam. And[134] ratio, qua una præstamus beluis, per quam conjectura valemus, argumentamur, refellimus, disserimus, conficimus aliquid, concludimus. But, in all ages and countries, philosophers have invariably expressed themselves in this sense with respect to the Reason, even to Kant himself, who still defines it as the faculty for principles and for inference; although it cannot be denied that he first gave rise to the distorted views which followed. In my principal work,[135] and also in the Fundamental Problems of Ethics, I have spoken at great length about the agreement of all philosophers on this point, as well as about the true nature of Reason, as opposed to the distorted conceptions for which we have to thank the professors of philosophy of this century. I need not therefore repeat what has already been said there, and shall limit myself to the following considerations.
Our professors of philosophy have thought fit to do away with the name which had hitherto been given to that faculty of thinking and pondering by means of reflection and conceptions, which distinguishes man from animals, which necessitates language while it qualifies us for its use, with which all human deliberation and all human achievements hang together, and which had therefore always been viewed in this light and understood in this sense by all nations and even by all philosophers. In defiance of all sound taste and custom, our professors decided that this faculty should henceforth be called Understanding instead of Reason, and that all that is derived from it should be named intelligent instead of rational, which, of course, had a strange, awkward ring about it, like a discordant tone in music. For in all ages and countries the words understanding, intellectus, acumen, perspicacia, sagacitas, &c. &c., had been used to denote the more intuitive faculty described in our last chapter; and its results, which differ specifically from those of Reason here in question, have always been called intelligent, sagacious, clever, &c. &c. Intelligent and rational were accordingly always distinguished one from the other, as manifestations of two entirely and widely different mental faculties. Our professional philosophers could not, however, take this into account; their policy required the sacrifice, and in such cases the cry is: "Move on, truth; for we have higher, well-defined aims in view! Make way for us, truth, in majorem Dei gloriam, as thou hast long ago learnt to do! Is it thou who givest fees and pensions? Move on, truth, move on; betake thyself to merit and crouch in the corner!" The fact was, they wanted Reason's place and name for a faculty of their own creation and fabrication, or to speak more correctly and honestly, for a completely fictitious faculty, destined to help them out of the straits to which Kant had reduced them; a faculty for direct, metaphysical knowledge: that is to say, one which transcends all possible experience, is able to grasp the world of things in themselves and their relations, and is therefore, before all, consciousness of God (Gottesbewusstsein): that is, it knows God the Lord immediately, construes à priori the way in which he has created the Universe, or, should this sound too trivial, the way in which he has produced it out of himself, or to a certain degree generated it by some more or less necessary vital process, or again—as the most convenient proceeding, however comical it may appear—simply "dismissed" it, according to the custom of sovereigns at the end of an audience, and left it to get upon its legs by itself and walk away wherever it liked. Nothing less than the impudence of a scribbler of nonsense like Hegel, could, it is true, be found to venture upon this last step. Yet it is tom-foolery like this which, largely amplified, has filled hundreds of volumes for the last fifty years under the name of cognitions of Reason (Vernunfterkenntnisse), and forms the argument of so many works called philosophical by their authors, and scientific by others—one would think ironically—this expression being even repeated to satiety. Reason, to which all this wisdom is falsely and audaciously imputed, is pronounced to be a "supersensuous faculty," or a faculty "for ideas;" in short, an oracular power lying within us, designed directly for Metaphysics. During the last half-century, however, there has been considerable discrepancy of opinion among the adepts as to the way in which all these supersensuous wonders are perceived. According to the most audacious, Reason has a direct intuition of the Absolute, or even ad libitum of the Infinite and of its evolutions towards the Finite. Others, somewhat less bold, opine that its mode of receiving this information partakes rather of audition than of vision; since it does not exactly see, but merely hears (vernimmt), what is going on in "cloud-cuckoo-land" (νεφελοκοκκυγία), and then honestly transmits what it has thus received to the Understanding, to be worked up into text-books. According to a pun of Jacobi's, even the German name for Reason, "Vernunft," is derived from this pretended "Vernehmen;" whereas it evidently comes from that "Vernehmen" which is conveyed by language and conditioned by Reason, and by which the distinct perception of words and their meaning is designated, as opposed to mere sensuous hearing which animals have also. This miserable jeu de mots nevertheless continues, after half a century, to find favour; it passes for a serious thought, nay even for a proof, and has been repeated over and over again. The most modest among the adepts again assert, that Reason neither sees nor hears, therefore it receives neither a vision nor a report of all these wonders, and has a mere vague Ahndung, or misgiving of them; but then they drop the d, by which the word (Ahnung) acquires a peculiar touch of silliness, which, backed up as it is by the sheepish look of the apostle for the time being of this wisdom, cannot fail to gain it entrance.
My readers know that I only admit the word idea in its primitive, that is Platonic, sense, and that I have treated this point at length and exhaustively in the Third Book of my chief work. The French and English, on the other hand, certainly attach a very commonplace, but quite clear and definite meaning to the word idée, or idea; whereas the Germans lose their heads as soon as they hear the word Ideen;[136] all presence of mind abandons them, and they feel as if they were about to ascend in a balloon. Here therefore was a field of action for our adepts in intellectual intuition; so the most impudent of them, the notorious charlatan Hegel, without more ado, called his theory of the universe and of all things "Die Idee," and in this of course all thought that they had something to lay hold of. Still, if we inquire into the nature of these ideas for which Reason is pronounced to be the faculty, without letting ourselves be put out of countenance, the explanation usually given is an empty, high-flown, confused verbiage, in set periods of such length, that if the reader does not fall asleep before he has half read it, he will find himself bewildered rather than enlightened at the end; nay, he may even have a suspicion that these ideas are very like chimæras. Meanwhile, should anyone show a desire to know more about this sort of ideas, he will have all kinds of things served up to him. Now it will be the chief subjects of the theses of Scholasticism—I allude here to the representations of God, of an immortal Soul, of a real, objectively existent World and its laws—which Kant himself has unfortunately called Ideas of Reason, erroneously and unjustifiably, as I have shown in my Critique of his philosophy, yet merely with a view to proving the utter impossibility of demonstrating them and their want of all theoretical authority. Then again it will be, as a variation, only God, Freedom, and Immortality; at other times it will be the Absolute, whose acquaintance we have already made in § 20, as the Cosmological Proof, forced to travel incognito; or the Infinite as opposed to the Finite; for, on the whole, the German reader is disposed to content himself with such empty talk as this, without perceiving that the only clear thought he can get out of it is, 'that which has an end' and 'that which has none.' 'The Good, the True, and the Beautiful,' moreover, stand high in favour with the sentimental and tender-hearted as pretended ideas, though they are really only three very wide and abstract conceptions, because they are extracted from a multitude of things and relations; wherefore, like many other such abstracta, they are exceedingly empty. As regards their contents, I have shown above (§ 29) that Truth is a quality belonging exclusively to judgments: that is, a logical quality; and as to the other two abstracta, I refer my readers partly to § 65 of the first volume, partly to the entire Third Book of my chief work. If, nevertheless, a very solemn and mysterious air is assumed and the eyebrows are raised up to the wig whenever these three meagre abstracta are mentioned, young people may easily be induced to believe that something peculiar and inexpressible lies behind them, which entitles them to be called ideas, and harnessed to the triumphal car of this would-be metaphysical Reason.
When therefore we are told, that we possess a faculty for direct, material (i.e., not only formal, but substantial), supersensuous knowledge, (that is, a knowledge which transcends all possible experience), a faculty specially designed for metaphysical insight, and inherent in us for this purpose—I must take the liberty to call this a downright lie. For the slightest candid self-examination will suffice to convince us that absolutely no such faculty resides within us. The result at which all honest, competent, authoritative thinkers have arrived in the course of ages, moreover, tallies exactly with my assertion. It is as follows: All that is innate in the whole of our cognitive faculty, all that is therefore à priori and independent of experience, is strictly limited to the formal part of knowledge: that is, to the consciousness of the peculiar functions of the intellect and of the only way in which they can possibly act; but in order to give material knowledge, these functions one and all require material from outside. Within us therefore lie the forms of external, objective perception: Time and Space, and then the law of Causality—as a mere form of the Understanding which enables it to construct the objective, corporeal world—finally, the formal part of abstract knowledge: this last is deposited and treated of in Logic, which our forefathers therefore rightly called the Theory of Reason. But this very Logic teaches us also, that the conceptions which constitute those judgments and conclusions to which all logical laws refer, must look to intuitive knowledge for their material and their content; just as the Understanding, which creates this intuitive knowledge, looks to sensation for the material which gives content to its à priori forms.
Thus all that is material in our knowledge: that is to say, all that cannot be reduced to subjective form, to individual mode of activity, to functions of our intellect,—its whole material therefore,—comes from outside; that is, in the last resort, from the objective perception of the corporeal world, which has its origin in sensation. Now it is this intuitive and, so far as material content is concerned, empirical knowledge, which Reason—real Reason—works up into conceptions, which it fixes sensuously by means of words; these conceptions then supply the materials for its endless combinations through judgments and conclusions, which constitute the weft of our thought-world. Reason therefore has absolutely no material, but merely a formal, content, and this is the object-matter of Logic, which consequently contains only forms and rules for thinking operations. In reflecting, Reason is absolutely forced to take its material contents from outside, i.e., from the intuitive representations which the Understanding has created. Its functions are exercised on them, first of all, in forming conceptions, by dropping some of the various qualities of things while retaining others, which are then connected together to a conception. Representations, however, forfeit their capacity for being intuitively perceived by this process, while they become easier to deal with, as has already been shown. It is therefore in this, and in this alone, that the efficiency of Reason consists; whereas it can never supply material content from its own resources.—It has nothing but forms: its nature is feminine; it only conceives, but does not generate. It is not by mere chance that the Reason is feminine in all Latin, as well as Teutonic, languages; whereas the Understanding is invariably masculine.
In using such expressions as 'sound Reason teaches this,' or 'Reason should control passion,' we by no means imply that Reason furnishes material knowledge out of its own resources; but rather do we point to the results of rational reflection, that is, to logical inference from principles which abstract knowledge has gradually gathered from experience and by which we obtain a clear and comprehensive view, not only of what is empirically necessary, and may therefore, the case occurring, be foreseen, but even of the reasons and consequences of our own deeds also. Reasonable or rational is everywhere synonymous with consistent or logical, and conversely; for Logic is only Reason's natural procedure itself, expressed in a system of rules; therefore these expressions (rational and logical) stand in the same relation to one another as theory and practice. Exactly in this same sense too, when we speak of a reasonable conduct, we mean by it one which is quite consistent, one therefore which proceeds from general conceptions, and is not determined by the transitory impression of the moment. By this, however, the morality of such conduct is in no wise determined: it may be good or bad indifferently. Detailed explanations of all this are to be found in my "Critique of Kant's Philosophy,"[137] and also in my "Fundamental Problems of Ethics."[138] Notions derived from pure Reason are, lastly, those which have their source in the formal part, whether intuitive or reflective, of our cognitive faculty; those, consequently, which we are able to bring to our consciousness à priori, that is, without the help of experience. They are invariably based upon principles which have transcendental or metalogical truth.
A Reason, on the other hand, which supplies material knowledge primarily out of its own resources and conveys positive information transcending the sphere of possible experience; a Reason which, in order to do this, must necessarily contain innate ideas, is a pure fiction, invented by our professional philosophers and a product of the terror with which Kant's Critique of Pure Reason has inspired them. I wonder now, whether these gentlemen know a certain Locke and whether they have ever read his works? Perhaps they may have done so in times long gone by, cursorily and superficially, while looking down complacently on this great thinker from the heights of their own conscious superiority: may be, too, in some inferior German translation; for I do not yet see that the knowledge of modern languages has increased in proportion to the deplorable decrease in that of ancient ones. How could time besides be found for such old croakers as Locke, when even a real, thorough knowledge of Kant's Philosophy at present hardly exists excepting in a very few, very old heads? The youth of the generation now at its maturity had of course to be spent in the study of "Hegel's gigantic mind," of the "sublime Schleiermacher," and of the "acute Herbart." Alas! alas! the great mischief in academical hero-worship of this sort, and in the glorification of university celebrities by worthy colleagues in office or hopeful aspirants to it, is precisely, that ordinary intellects—Nature's mere manufactured ware—are presented to honest credulous youths of immature judgment, as master minds, exceptions and ornaments of mankind. The students forthwith throw all their energies into the barren study of the endless, insipid scribblings of such mediocrities, thus wasting the short, invaluable period allotted to them for higher education, instead of using it to attain the sound information they might have found in the works of those extremely rare, genuine, truly exceptional thinkers, nantes in gurgite vasto, who only rise to the surface every now and then in the course of ages, because Nature produced but one of each kind, and then "destroyed the mould." For this generation also those great minds might have had life, had our youth not been cheated out of its share in their wisdom by these exceedingly pernicious extollers of mediocrity, members of the vast league and brotherhood of mediocrities, which is as flourishing to-day as it ever was and still hoists its flag as high as it can in persistent antagonism to all that is great and genuine, as humiliating to its members. Thanks to them, our age has declined to so low an ebb, that Kant's Philosophy, which it took our fathers years of study, of serious application and of strenuous effort to understand, has again become foreign to the present generation, which stands before it like ὄνος πρὸς λύραν, at times attacking it coarsely and clumsily—as barbarians throw stones at the statue of some Greek god which is foreign to them. Now, as this is the case, I feel it incumbent upon me to advise all champions of a Reason that perceives, comprehends, and knows directly—in short, that supplies material knowledge out of its own resources—to read, as something new to them, the First Book of Locke's work, which has been celebrated throughout the world for the last hundred and fifty years, and in it especially to peruse §§ 21-26 of the Third Chapter, expressly directed against all innate notions. For although Locke goes too far in denying all innate truths, inasmuch as he extends his denial even to our formal knowledge—a point in which he has been brilliantly rectified by Kant—he is nevertheless perfectly and undeniably right with reference to all material knowledge: that is, all knowledge which gives substance.
I have already said in my Ethics what I must nevertheless repeat here, because, as the Spanish proverb says, "No hay peor sordo que quien no quiere oir" (None so deaf as those who will not hear): namely, that if Reason were a faculty specially designed for Metaphysics, a faculty which supplied the material of knowledge and could reveal that which transcends all possible experience, the same harmony would necessarily reign between men on metaphysical and religious subjects—for they are identical—as on mathematical ones, and those who differed in opinion from the rest would simply be looked upon as not quite right in their mind. Now exactly the contrary takes place, for on no subject are men so completely at variance with one another as upon these. Ever since men first began to think, philosophical systems have opposed and combated each other everywhere; they are, in fact, often diametrically contrary to one another. Ever since men first began to believe (which is still longer), religions have fought against one another with fire and sword, with excommunication and cannons. But in times when faith was most ardent, it was not the lunatic asylum, but the Inquisition, with all its paraphernalia, which awaited individual heretics. Here again, therefore, experience flatly and categorically contradicts the false assertion, that Reason is a faculty for direct metaphysical knowledge, or, to speak more clearly, of inspiration from above. Surely it is high time that severe judgment should be passed upon this Reason, since, horribile dictu, so lame, so palpable a falsehood continues after half a century to be hawked about all over Germany, wandering year by year from the professors' chair to the students' bench, and from bench to chair, and has actually found a few simpletons, even in France, willing to believe in it, and carry it about in that country also. Here, however, French bon-sens will very soon send la raison transcendentale about its business.
But where was this falsehood originally hatched? How did the fiction first come into the world? I am bound to confess that it was first originated by Kant's Practical Reason with its Categorical Imperative. For when this Practical Reason had once been admitted, nothing further was needed than the addition of a second, no less sovereign Theoretical Reason, as its counterpart, or twin-sister: a Reason which proclaims metaphysical truths ex tripode. I have described the brilliant success of this invention in my Fundamental Problems of Ethics[139] to which work I refer my reader. Now, although I grant that Kant first gave rise to this false assumption, I am, nevertheless, bound to add, that those who want to dance are not long in finding a piper. For it is surely as though a curse lay on mankind, causing them, in virtue of a natural affinity for all that is corrupt and bad, to prefer and hold up to admiration the inferior, not to say downright defective, portions of the works of eminent minds, while the really admirable parts are tolerated as merely accessory. Very few in our time know wherein the peculiar depth and true grandeur of Kant's philosophy lies; for his works have necessarily ceased to be comprehended since they have ceased to be studied. In fact, they are now only cursorily read, for historical purposes, by those who are under the delusion that philosophy has advanced, not to say begun, since Kant. We soon perceive therefore, that in spite of all their talk about Kantian philosophy, these people really know nothing of it but the husk, the mere outer envelope, and that if perchance they may here or there have caught up a stray sentence or brought away a rough sketch of it, they have never penetrated to the depths of its meaning and spirit. People of this sort have always been chiefly attracted, in Kant's Philosophy, first of all by the Antinomies, on account of their oddity, but still more by his Practical Reason with its Categorical Imperative, nay even by the Moral Theory he placed on the top of it, though with this last he was never in earnest; for a theoretical dogma which has only practical validity, is very like the wooden guns we allow our children to handle without fear of danger: properly speaking, it belongs to the same category as: "Wash my skin, but without wetting it." Now, as regards the Categorical Imperative, Kant never asserted it as a fact, but, on the contrary, protests repeatedly against this being done; he merely served it up as the result of an exceedingly curious combination of thoughts, because he stood in need of a sheet-anchor for morality. Our professors of philosophy, however, never sifted the matter to the bottom, so that it seems as if no one before me had ever thoroughly investigated it. Instead of this, they made all haste to bring the Categorical Imperative into credit as a firmly established fact, calling it in their purism "the moral law"—which, by the way, always reminds me of Bürger's "Mam'zelle Larègle;" indeed, they have made out of it something as massive as the stone tables of Moses, whose place it entirely takes, for them. Now in my Essay upon the Fundament of Morality, I have brought this same Practical Reason with its Categorical Imperative under the anatomical knife, and proved so clearly and conclusively that they never had any life or truth, that I should like to see the man who can refute me with reasons, and so help the Categorical Imperative honestly on its legs again. Meanwhile, our professors of philosophy do not allow themselves to be put out of countenance by this. They can no more dispense with their "moral law of practical Reason," as a convenient deus ex machina on which to found their morality, than with Free Will: both are essential points in their old woman's philosophy. No matter if I have made an end of both, since, for them, both continue to exist, like deceased sovereigns who for political reasons are occasionally allowed to continue reigning for a few days after their death. These worthies simply pursue their tactics of old against my merciless demolition of those two antiquated fictions: silence, silence; and so they glide past noiselessly, feigning ignorance, to make the public believe that I and the like of me are not worth listening to. Well, to be sure, their philosophical calling comes to them from the ministry, while mine only comes from Nature. True, we may at last perhaps discover that these heroes act upon the same principle as that idealistic bird, the ostrich, which imagines that by closing its eyes it does away with the huntsman. Ah well! we must bide our time; if the public can only be brought to take up meantime with the barren twaddle, the unbearably tiresome repetitions, the arbitrary constructions of the Absolute, and the infant-school morality of these gentlemen—say, till I am dead and they can trim up my works as they like—we shall then see.
Morgen habe denn das Rechte