There is moreover special evidence that the movements induced by stimuli (involuntary movements) proceed from the will just as well as those occasioned by motives (voluntary movements): for instance, when the same movement follows now upon a stimulus, now again upon a motive, as is the case when the pupil of the eye is contracted. This movement, when caused by increased light, follows upon a stimulus; whereas, when occasioned by the wish to examine a very small object minutely in close proximity, it follows upon a motive; because contracting the pupil enables us to see things distinctly even when quite near to us, and this distinctness may be increased by our looking through a hole pierced in a card with a pin; conversely, the pupil is dilated when we look at distant objects. Surely the same movement of the same organ is not likely to proceed alternately from two fundamentally different sources.—E. H. Weber[203] relates that he discovered in himself the power of dilating and contracting at will the pupil of one of his eyes, while looking at the same object, so as to make that object appear now distinct, now indistinct, while the other eye remained closed.—Joh. Müller[204] also tries to prove that the will acts upon the pupil.
The truth that the innermost mainspring of unconsciously performed vital and vegetative functions is the will, we find moreover confirmed by the consideration, that even the movement of a limb recognised as voluntary, is only the ultimate result of a multitude of preceding changes which have taken place inside that limb and which no more enter into our consciousness than those organic functions. Yet these changes are evidently that which was first set in motion by the will, the movement of the limb being merely their remote consequence; nevertheless this remains so foreign to our consciousness that physiologists try to reach it by means of such hypotheses as these: that the sinews and muscular fibre are contracted by a change in the cellular tissue wrought by a precipitation of the blood-vapour in that tissue to serum; but that this change is brought about by the nerve's action, and this—by the will. Thus, even here, it is not the change which proceeded originally from the will which comes into consciousness, but only its remote result; and even this, properly speaking, only through the special perception of the brain in which it presents itself together with the whole organism. Now by following the path of experimental research and hypotheses physiologists would never have arrived at the truth, that the last link in this ascending causal series is the will; it is known to them, on the contrary, in quite a different way. The solution of the enigma comes to them in a whisper from outside the investigation, owing to the fortunate circumstance that the investigator is in this case at the same time himself the object of the investigation and by this learns the secret of the inward process, his explanation of which would otherwise, like that of every other phenomenon, be brought to a standstill by an inscrutable force. And conversely, if we stood in the same inward relation towards every natural phenomenon as towards our own organism, the explanation of every natural phenomenon, as well as of all the properties of every body, would likewise ultimately be reduced to a will manifesting itself in them. For the difference does not reside in the thing itself, but in our relation to the thing. Wherever explanation of the physical comes to an end, it is met by the metaphysical; and wherever this last is accessible to immediate knowledge, the result will be, as here, the will. That even those parts of the body whose movements do not proceed from the brain, do not follow upon motives, and are not voluntary, are nevertheless ruled and animated by the will, is also shown by their participation in all unusually violent movements of the will, i.e. emotions and passions. We see, for instance, the quickened pulse in joy or alarm, the blush in embarrassment, the cheek's pallor in terror or in suppressed anger, the tears of sorrow, the difficult breathing and increased activity of the intestines in terror, watering of the mouth at the sight of dainties, nausea occasioned by that of loathsome objects, strongly accelerated circulation of the blood and even altered quality of bile through wrath, and of saliva through violent rage: this last even to the degree, that an excessively irritated dog may communicate hydrophobia by its bite without being itself affected with rabies, or even then contracting the disease—and the same is also asserted of cats and of cocks. The organism is further deeply undermined by lasting grief, and may be mortally affected by fright as well as by sudden joy. On the other hand, all those inner processes and changes which only have to do with the intellect and do not concern the will, however great may be their importance, remain without influence upon the machinery of the organism, with the one exception, that mental activity, prolonged to excess, fatigues and gradually exhausts the brain and finally undermines the organism. This again confirms the fact that the intellect is of a secondary character, and merely the organic function of a single part, a product of life; not the innermost kernel of our being, not the thing in itself, not metaphysical, incorporeal, eternal, like the will: the will never tires, never grows old, never learns, never improves by practice, is in infancy what it is in old age, eternally one and the same, and its character in each individual is unchangeable. Being essential moreover, it is likewise immutable, and therefore exists in animals as it does in us; for it does not, like the intellect, depend upon the perfection of the organization, but is in every essential respect in all animals the same thing which we know so intimately. Accordingly animals have all the feelings which belong to man: joy, grief, fear, anger, love, hate, desire, envy, &c. &c. The great difference between man and the brute creation consists exclusively in the degrees of perfection of the intellect. This however is leading us too far from our subject, so I refer my readers to my chief work, vol. ii. chap. 19, sub. 2.
After the cogent reasons just given in favour of the primary agens in the inward machinery of the organism being the very same will which rules the outward actions of the body and only reveals itself as the will in this passage through consciousness because here it needs the mediation of outwardly directed knowledge, we shall not be astonished to find that other physiologists besides Brandis had, by means of strictly empirical research, also recognised this truth more or less clearly. Meckel,[205] in his "Archiv für die Physiologie," arrives quite empirically and impartially at the conclusion, that vegetative existence [in animals], the first growth of the embryo, the assimilation of nourishment and plant-life, ought properly to be considered as manifestations of the will, nay, that even the inclination of the magnetic needle seems to be something of the same kind. "The assumption," he says, "of a certain free will in every vital movement may perhaps be justified." "Plants appear to seek light voluntarily," &c. &c. This book is dated 1819 just after the appearance of my work; and as, to say the least, it is doubtful whether it had any influence upon him or whether he was even aware of its existence, I class these utterances among the independent empirical confirmations of my doctrine. Burdach also,[206] in his great work on Physiology, arrives by a completely empirical road at the conclusion, that "self-love is a force belonging to all things indiscriminately." He points it out, first in animals, then in plants, and lastly in inanimate bodies. But what is self-love after all, if not the will to preserve our existence, the will to live? Under the heading "Comparative Anatomy," I shall quote a passage from the same book, which confirms my view still more decidedly. That the doctrine, which teaches that the will is the vital principle, has begun to spread even to the wider circles of medical science and to meet with a favourable reception from its younger representatives, I notice with particular pleasure in the theses sustained by Dr. Von Sigriz on taking his degree at Munich (August, 1835), which commence as follows: 1. Sanguis est determinans formam organismi se evolventis. 2. Evolutio organica determinatur vitæ internæ actione et voluntate.
Lastly, a very remarkable and unexpected corroboration of this part of my doctrine has to be mentioned, which has recently been communicated from ancient Hindoo philosophy by Colebrook. In his exposition of the philosophical schools of the Hindoos,[207] he quotes the following as the doctrine of the Nyaga school: "Volition, Yatna, effort or manifestation of the Will, is a self-determination to act which gives satisfaction. Desire is its occasion, perception its motive. Two kinds of perceptible effort of the will are distinguished: that which springs from desire which seeks the agreeable, and that which springs from aversion which shuns the repulsive. Another species, which escapes sensation and perception, but is inferred from analogy of spontaneous acts, comprises animal functions, having for a cause the vital, unseen power." Here the words "animal functions" are evidently used, not in a physiological, but in a popular sense: so that here organic life is unquestionably derived from the will. We find a similar statement in Colebrook's Report on the Vedas[208] where he says: "Asu is unconscious volition, which occasions an act necessary to the support of life, as breathing, &c."
Moreover my reduction of vital energy to the will by no means interferes with the old division of its functions into reproductive force, irritability and sensibility. This division remains a deep view of their difference, and gives occasion for interesting observations.
The faculty of reproduction, objectified in the cellular tissue of plants, constitutes the chief characteristic of plants and the vegetative element in Man. Where we find it predominant to excess in human beings, we assume them to be phlegmatic, dull, indolent, obtuse (Bœotians); though this assumption does not always meet with confirmation. Irritability, objectified in the muscular tissue, constitutes the chief characteristic of Animals and the animal element in Man. Where it predominates to excess, dexterity, strength, bravery, that is, fitness for bodily exertion and for war, is usually to be found (Spartans). Nearly all warm-blooded animals and even insects far surpass Man in irritability. It is by irritability that animals are most vividly conscious of their existence; wherefore they exult in manifesting it. There is even still a trace of that exultation perceptible in Man, in dancing. Sensibility, objectified in the nerves, is Man's chief characteristic, and constitutes what is properly human in him. In this no animal can in the remotest degree compare with Man. Where it predominates to excess, it produces genius (Athenians). Accordingly a man of genius is in a higher degree a man. This explains why some men of genius have been unwilling to recognise other men, with their monotonous physiognomies and universal stamp of commonplace mediocrity, as human beings: for in them they did not find their equals and naturally came to the erroneous conclusion that their own was the normal standard. Diogenes sought for men with a lantern in this sense;—in that work of genius, the Koheleth (Ecclesiastes) it is said:[209] "One man among a thousand have I found, but one woman among all those have I not found;" and Gracian in his Criticon—perhaps the grandest and most beautiful allegory ever written—says: "But what was strangest of all, in the whole country, even in the most populous cities, they did not meet with a single man; on the contrary these cities were inhabited by lions, tigers, leopards, wolves, foxes, apes, oxen, asses, pigs,—nowhere was there a man! They only made out after a time that the few existing human beings, in order to hide themselves and not to witness what was going on, had retired to those desert places which ought to have been the dwellings of wild beasts." The same reason indeed accounts for the peculiar inclination of all men of genius for solitude, to which they are driven by their difference from the rest, and for which their own inner wealth qualifies them. For, with humanity it is as with diamonds, the extraordinarily great ones alone are fitted to be solitaires, while those of ordinary size have to be set in clusters to produce any effect.
Even the three Gunas, or fundamental qualities of the Hindoos, tally with the three physiological fundamental forces. Tamas-Guna, obtuseness, stupidity, corresponds to reproductive power; Rajas-Guna, passionateness, to irritability; and Sattwa-Guna, wisdom and virtue, to sensibility. When however they add to this, that Tamas-Guna is the fate of animals, Rajas-Guna the fate of man, and Sattwa-Guna that of the Gods, this is to be taken in a mythological, rather than physiological sense.
In Chapter 20th of the 2nd Vol. of my chief work entitled "Objectification of the Will in the Animal Organism," I have likewise treated the argument of the present chapter; therefore I advise my readers to read it after this, as a complement to what is here given.[210]
I may observe, that the passages I have quoted from pp. 14 and 15 of my Essay on Colours, refer to the first edition.