The philosophy of life, and philosophy of language, in a course of lectures

by Friedrich von Schlegel

Much, undoubtedly, has been discovered or newly learned in the natural sciences and in the domain of history; many too have been the bold ventures, at least, and novel essays in philosophy. This new wisdom, moreover, was taught and disseminated far more universally than ever before had been the case; while even the agreeable feeling produced by the moderation of the intellectual spirit now prevalent, greatly promoted its wide and rapid diffusion. But at a later period this enlightenment, so rapidly and so widely diffused, which, moreover, was taken only in a negative sense, was soon recognized to be unsatisfactory and superficial, while also the theory of popular liberty and independence which was grafted thereon, and claimed, or at least wished to be rational, bore the bitterest and worst of fruits.

In short, to speak most leniently of it, the whole was nothing less than the undigested scheme of an immature and imperfect knowledge, brought into the world before its time. Accordingly, its rash and precipitate course in the last age, whose history is unparalleled in the annals of the whole world, together with the fearful catastrophe which it has brought about, opened the eyes of men to the fearful abyss to which such a precipitate abuse of science had hurried them. And, in consequence, thinking men of the highest endowments and the richest intellectual gifts among different nations, have in many ways nobly devoted themselves to the work of restoration in sentiment, in thought, and in science.

But on the one hand, the first elements of the former destructive principle appear to be still existing, even though it be in less obvious and more pliable and disguised forms. On the other hand again, the corrected mode of thinking, and the better tone of sentiment and science, is for the most part confined merely to a more chastened outward form. Scarcely any where as yet is it carried far enough back, up to the profoundest sources of spiritual life, up to the primal origin and veritable foundation of the divine and of the eternally good.

And yet this is exactly the problem of our age, and herein alone shall we find the solution of the great enigma of the times. For from this hasty review of the whole course of the intellectual development of humanity, from its beginning to its close, the result, for the sake of and with a view to which alone I ventured so cursorily and in such faint outline to sketch all the leading epochs of the history of philosophy, must at least be evident. As in the beginning, and in the center thereof, science and life lovingly co-operated together and were fully in unison; and as in the intermediate epochs and intervals among the Greeks in civilized antiquity, and in the middle ages among ourselves, they became more and more estranged, so at the end will they be at one again. And already, even in our own days, every thing is tending to bring about such a consummation. But who shall say whether it shall be in a good or an evil sense? Ere long, life shall either, under the influence of the true and good and divine knowledge, be again restored, permanently regulated, and receive a new shape and fresh vigor, or, by a false and delusive science, be completely destroyed, and involved in eternal ruin.

Having, in this hasty review, considered, under its historical aspect, the problem of the relation of science—the true and divine, as well as the false and delusive—to both private and public life, it now remains for us to examine and to answer this same question from the side of theory. Regarded from this point of view, it would appear that whenever science fails to exercise an influence on life, or when they withdraw and are estranged one from the other, the fact may be always accounted for and explained by accidental causes and purely local influences, such as have their origin in the several periods of the world’s history, or flow from certain imperfections on one side or the other. For, considered in itself, science in general is nothing but this unity of thought and life, and consequently its living operation and influence are involved in the very idea of a higher science, provided only it be true and properly regulated. Either, therefore, science is life elevated into a thought, and consequently transformed into a thinking, or else it is a thought carried into reality, that has passed and been transmuted into life, and therein fully attested and certified by life itself—consequently a thinking become life.

Now, according to this view, that science consists in the mutual approximation to, and the final attainment of, a perfect unity between thought and life, there are three degrees of it, according to that triple gradation and threefold principle which exists in the human consciousness. The first of these, then, is reflection. And this, understood in a somewhat profounder acceptation than ordinarily, is an internal feeling, hearing, or seeing of one’s own thinking. Consequently it is a perception similar to that of the senses, by means of which the unseen thought is in some degree projected and introduced into external reality. But this act of reflection is nothing more than a passive state of the soul in its internal observation of itself. So long as it remains confined to this narrow sphere, it perpetually revolves in the same orbit, and, properly speaking, produces no ulterior results of a knowledge fruitful and applicable to actual and outward life.

The second degree or moment of science is abstraction, by virtue of which, from the complete sum of all the criteria and characteristics of an object, or, rather, of a thought, some one is prominently set forth as the most essential, and for the sake of communication designated by a name. For all communication and language is based on this faculty of abstraction, which is itself an arbitrary act of the free will. But although by this naming, generalization, and communication, the internal thought is advanced a step farther into the external world and the living reality among and with others, still the reality of the thought is by no means satisfactorily established thereby. For this very liberty in the choice of name, of combination, and of general classification, opens a wide field for caprice. This is evident enough from the countless multitude of terminologies, so needlessly invented and so rapidly thrown into oblivion, which form so many remote and mutually unintelligible philosophical dialects, in the ever-repeated attempt to build methodically the Babel tower of philosophical system. For these designations of abstract thoughts, even when they are most felicitous, fail to win the concurrence of others, and do but open a door to endless dialectical disputation.

Thus, then, neither reflection, which is eternally revolving within the narrow orbit of our inward self, nor empty abstraction, though it strays at pleasure over the spacious realm of the possible, can lead us to the desired end of perfect certainty or veritable science. It is alone the practical carrying out into real life of a speculative thought, that can bring it to the conclusion of perfection of certainty, and to a complete and true science. Now I should prefer to designate this its highest grade by the notion and name of consequence. But by this term, I must be understood as meaning not merely a correct logical enchainment of ideas, but pre-eminently a faithfully-worked-out consequence or consistency of sentiment and life, i.e., a perseverance in good. At the same time, it must ever be remembered, that the evil principle, although it often makes a boast of possessing this quality, does so only in appearance, and never in this true sense. On the contrary, torn to pieces by conflicting passions in its inmost being, it is really in the highest degree inconsequent, as acting in direct opposition to its beginning and origin, which, like all other created beings, it took and received from God.

Truly consequent or consistent a man can not be except in the truth, i.e., in Him out of whom all truth, and from whom all existence is derived and flows—in other words, in God. Science, therefore, is an applied thinking, i.e., one that has passed into life, and thereby become real and certain; and it is only on the road of practice, by its actual carrying out or real manifestation, that it can attain to its highest degree, and that the truth of an idea or speculative thought can be satisfactorily attested.

The ideas, according to the original sense of the term, are even the self-existing thoughts of a higher life, as distinct both from the simple facts of the consciousness in the domain of reflection, and from the arbitrary forms of thought set up by empty abstraction. And though even here as elsewhere, a false, sickly, or a null and illusory life, may be substituted for that which is true, still this applies only to the form of the living idea, as contrasted with the sensuous semblance or the dead notion. For, that an idea is truly divine, can only be proved by this quality of consequence—by its divine influence and effect on life.