If in the disclosures which Kant's wonderful acumen gave to the world there is anything true beyond the shadow of a doubt, this is to be found in the Transcendental Aesthetics, that is to say, in his doctrine of the ideality of Space and Time. On such solid foundations is the structure built that no one has been able to raise even an apparent objection. It is Kant's triumph, and belongs to the very small number of metaphysical theories which may be regarded as really proved, and as actual conquests in that field of research. It teaches us that Space and Time are the forms of our own faculty of intuition, to which they consequently belong, and not to the objects thereby perceived; and further, that they can in no way be a condition of things in themselves, but rather attach only to their mode of appearing, such as is alone possible for us who have a consciousness of the external world determined by strictly physiological limits. Now, if to the Thing in itself, that is, to the Reality underlying the kosmos, as we perceive it, Time and Space are foreign; so also must multiplicity be. Consequently that which is objectivated in the countless phaenomena of this world of the senses cannot but be a unity, a single indivisible entity, manifested in each and all of them. And conversely, the web of plurality, woven in the loom of Time and Space, is not the Thing in itself, but only its appearance-form. Externally to the thinking subject, this appearance-form, as such, has no existence; it is merely an attribute of our consciousness, bounded, as the latter is, by manifold conditions, indeed, depending on an organic function.
The view of things as above stated,—that all plurality is only apparent, that in the endless series of individuals, passing simultaneously and successively into and out of life, generation after generation, age after age, there is but one and the same entity really existing, which is present and identical in all alike;—this theory, I say, was of course known long before Kant; indeed, it may be carried back to the remotest antiquity. It is the alpha and omega of the oldest book in the world, the sacred Vedas, whose dogmatic part, or rather esoteric teaching, is found in the Upanishads.[2] There, in almost every page this profound doctrine lies enshrined; with tireless repetition, in countless adaptations, by many varied parables and similes it is expounded and inculcated. That such was, moreover, the fount whence Pythagoras drew his wisdom, cannot be doubted, despite the scanty knowledge we possess of what he taught. That it formed practically the central point in the whole philosophy of the Eleatic School, is likewise a familiar fact. Later on, the New Platonists were steeped in the same, one of their chief tenets being: διὰ τὴν ἑνότητα ἀπάντων πάσας ψuχὰς mίαν εἶναι. (All souls are one, because all things form a unity.) In the ninth century we find it unexpectedly appearing in Europe. It kindles the spirit of no less a divine than Johannes Scotus Erigena, who endeavours to clothe it with the forms and terminology of the Christian religion. Among the Mohammedans we detect it again in the rapt mysticism of the Sûfi.[3] In the West Giordano Bruno cannot resist the impulse to utter it aloud; but his reward is a death of shame and torture. And at the same time we find the Christian Mystics losing themselves in it, against their own will and intention, whenever and wherever we read of them![4] Spinoza's name is identified with it. Lastly, in our own days, after Kant had annihilated the old dogmatism, and the world stood aghast at its smoking ruins, the same teaching was revived in Schelling's eclectic philosophy. The latter took all the systems of Plotinus, Spinoza, Kant, and Jacob Boehm, and mixing them together with the results of modern Natural Science, speedily served up a dish sufficient to satisfy for the moment the pressing needs of his contemporaries; and then proceeded to perform a series of variations on the original theme. The consequence is that in the learned circles of Germany this line of thought has come to be generally accepted; indeed even among people of ordinary education, it is almost universally diffused.[5] A solitary exception is formed by the University philosophers of the present day. They have the hard task of fighting what is called Pantheism. Being brought through the stress of battle into great embarrassment and difficulty, they anxiously catch now at the most pitiful sophisms, now at phrases of choicest bombast, so only they may patch together some sort of respectable disguise, wherein to dress up the favourite petticoat Philosophy, that has duly received official sanction. In a word, the Ἕν καὶ πᾱν[6] has been in all ages the laughing-stock of fools, for the wise a subject of perpetual meditation. Nevertheless, the strict demonstration of this theory is only to be obtained from the Kantian teaching, as I have just shown. Kant himself did not carry it out; after the fashion of clever orators, he only gave the premises, leaving to his hearers the pleasure of drawing the conclusion.
Now if plurality and difference belong only to the appearance-form; if there is but one and the same Entity manifested in all living things: it follows that, when we obliterate the distinction between the ego and the non-ego, we are not the sport of an illusion. Rather are we so, when we maintain the reality of individuation,—a thing the Hindus call Mâyâ,[7] that is, a deceptive vision, a phantasma. The former theory we have found to be the actual source of the phaenomenon of Compassion; indeed Compassion is nothing but its translation into definite expression. This, therefore, is what I should regard as the metaphysical foundation of Ethics, and should describe it as the sense which identifies the ego with the non-ego, so that the individual directly recognises in another his own self, his true and very being. From this standpoint the profoundest teaching of theory pushed to its furthest limits may be shown in the end to harmonise perfectly with the rules of justice and loving-kindness, as exercised; and conversely, it will be clear that practical philosophers, that is, the upright, the beneficent, the magnanimous, do but declare through their acts the same truth as the man of speculation wins by laborious research, by the loftiest flights of intellect. Meanwhile moral excellence stands higher than all theoretical sapience. The latter is at best nothing but a very unfinished and partial structure, and only by the circuitous path of reasoning attains the goal which the former reaches in one step. He who is morally noble, however deficient in mental penetration, reveals by his conduct the deepest insight, the truest wisdom; and puts to shame the most accomplished and learned genius, if the latter's acts betray that his heart is yet a stranger to this great principle,—the metaphysical unity of life.
"Individuation is real. The principium individuationis, with the consequent distinction of individuals, is the order of things in themselves. Bach living unit is an entity radically different from all others. In my own self alone I have my true being; everything outside it belongs to the non-ego, and is foreign to me." This is the creed to the truth of which flesh and bone bear witness: which is at the root of all egoism, and which finds its objective expression in every loveless, unjust, or malicious act.
"Individuation is merely an appearance, born of Space and Time; the latter being nothing else than the forms under which the external world necessarily manifests itself to me, conditioned as they are by my brain's faculty of perception. Hence also the plurality and difference of individuals is but a phaenomenon, that is, exists only as my mental picture. My true inmost being subsists in every living thing, just as really, as directly as in my own consciousness it is evidenced only to myself." This is the higher knowledge: for which there is in Sanskrit the standing formula, tat tvam asi, "that art thou."[8] Out of the depths of human nature it wells up in the shape of Compassion, and is therefore the source of all genuine, that is, disinterested virtue, being, so to say, incarnate in every good deed. It is this which in the last resort is invoked, whenever we appeal to gentleness, to loving-kindness; whenever we pray for mercy instead of justice. For such appeal, such prayer is in reality the effort to remind a fellow-being of the ultimate truth that we are all one and the same entity. On the other hand, Egoism and its derivatives, envy, hatred, the spirit of persecution, hardness of heart, revenge, pleasure at the sight of suffering, and cruelty, all claim support from the other view of things, and seek their justification in it. The emotion and joy we experience when we hear of, still more, when we see, and most of all, when we ourselves do, a noble act, are at bottom traceable to the feeling of certainty such a deed gives, that, beyond all plurality and distinction of individuals, which the principium individuationis, like a kaleidoscope, shows us in ever-shifting evanescent forms, there is an underlying unity, not only truly existing, but actually accessible to us; for lo! in tangible, objective form, it stands before our sight.
Of these two mental attitudes, according as the one or the other is adopted, so the ϕιλία (Love) or the νεῑκος (Hatred) of Empedocles appears between man and man. If any one, who is animated by νεῑκος, could forcibly break in upon his most detested foe, and compel him to lay bare the inmost recesses of his heart; to his surprise, he would find again in the latter his very self. For just as in dreams, all the persons that appear to us are but the masked images of ourselves; so in the dream of our waking life, it is our own being which looks on us from out our neighbours' eyes,—though this is not equally easy to discern. Nevertheless, tat tvam asi.
The preponderance of either mode of viewing life not only determines single acts; it shapes a man's whole nature and temperament. Hence the radical difference of mental habit between the good character and the bad. The latter feels everywhere that a thick wall of partition hedges him off from all others. For him the world is an absolute non-ego, and his relation to it an essentially hostile one; consequently, the key-note of his disposition is hatred, suspicion, envy, and pleasure in seeing distress. The good character, on the other hand, lives in an external world homogeneous with his own being; the rest of mankind is not in his eyes a non-ego; he thinks of it rather as "myself once more." He therefore stands on an essentially amicable footing with every one: he is conscious of being, in his inmost nature, akin to the whole human race,[9] takes direct interest in their weal and woe, and confidently assumes in their case the same interest in him. This is the source of his deep inward peace, and of that happy, calm, contented manner, which goes out on those around him, and is as the "presence of a good diffused." Whereas the bad character in time of trouble has no trust in the help of his fellow-creatures. If he invokes aid, he does so without confidence: obtained, he feels no real gratitude for it; because he can hardly discern therein anything but the effect of others' folly. For he is simply incapable of recognising his own self in some one else; and this, even after it has furnished the most incontestible signs of existence in that other person: on which fact the repulsive nature of all unthankfulness in reality depends. The moral isolation, which thus naturally and inevitably encompasses the bad man, is often the cause of his becoming the victim of despair. The good man, on the contrary, will appeal to his neighbours for assistance, with an assurance equal to the consciousness he has of being ready himself to help them. As I have said: to the one type, humanity is a non-ego; to the other, "myself once more." The magnanimous character, who forgives his enemy, and returns good for evil, rises to the sublime, and receives the highest meed of praise; because he recognises his real self even there where it is most conspicuously disowned.
Every purely beneficent act all help entirely and genuinely unselfish, being, as such, exclusively inspired by another's distress, is, in fact, if we probe the matter to the bottom, a dark enigma, a piece of mysticism put into practice; inasmuch as it springs out of, and finds its only true explanation in, the same higher knowledge that constitutes the essence of whatever is mystical.
For how, otherwise than metaphysically, are we to account for even the smallest offering of alms made with absolutely no other object than that of lessening the want which afflicts a fellow-creature? Such an act is only conceivable, only possible, in so far as the giver knows that it is his very self which stands before him, clad in the garments of suffering; in other words, so far as he recognises the essential part of his own being, under a form not his own.[10] It now becomes apparent, why in the foregoing part I have called Compassion the great mystery of Ethics.