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

by Friedrich von Schlegel

With an especial reference to the end of science, I have, in the case of these three elements of higher consciousness, attempted to distinguish, strictly and precisely, the true and genuine from the spurious, which often runs parallel to it, and the well-founded from that which rests on no right basis of reality. In the case of faith, we drew a distinction between that intrinsic living faith which is based on the feelings of personal experience and love, and that counterfeited imitation of it which is only externally assumed. In the case of hope, too, it has been my endeavor to show that, besides a narrow-minded, egoistic, and passionate and partisan hope, whose anticipations are seldom realized, but if so, only to their own punishment and disgrace, there is also a higher hope, which is both Godlike and divine. To this hope it is that art and poetry owe the magical charm by which they win upon us. But in actual life also it is the stay to which we must resolutely cling. For even though she be rightly named eternal, yet at certain particular moments and appointed historical epochs, after being long looked for in vain, she often appears in a far different shape from that which expectation had lent to her, and to our surprise stands forth unexpectedly in the full majesty and splendor of final consummation. All, then, that now remains to be done in this way is, in the case of love (since the earthly passion is for the most part only transitory, often confounded with the phantom of passion, and is, perhaps, totally blind), to point to a higher and better love, which is abiding and eternal, and, at the same time, endued both with sight and knowledge. For such alone can be of real value for the cognition of truth, and the right understanding of life. Such alone, in short, can contribute to the acquisition of that science of man, and especially of the inner man, which we are here in search of.

But now those three principles which constitute the grand harmony of that higher intelligent feeling which leads to science and also to religion, are at the same time, though in a less dignified relation, the impelling motives and ruling influences of actual life. For it is almost impossible to take one step forward in life without some feeling or other of trust and perfect faith in the general result. All our proceedings, in short, are based on some confident assumption or other, even though it is one which, perhaps we can not mathematically demonstrate, and which, when the moment for action is pressing upon us, we are unable perfectly to analyze. And hope, too, in some shape or form, is universally acknowledged to be the true moving impulse of our whole existence. So, also, love of some kind, true or false—it may be pure and lofty or mixed and sordid, if not altogether counterfeit—forms the very sum of life and of all enjoyment of it—ay, even life itself. An example or two, consequently, from the ordinary relations of actual life, will enable not so much to demonstrate, indeed, as rather to remind you of the difference which subsists even here between a trust and confidence that is merely reasoned out by logical inference—a faith externally assumed, and one that is the result of personal experience and confiding love. Thus reminding you of what in this life is manifest enough, I hope to set most distinctly before your eyes the difference which subsists also in the higher region of faith. Let us suppose the case of a friend dangerously ill or in a state of extreme suffering, and we are in search of a physician able to relieve and heal him. One is recommended to us of great reputation for extensive knowledge and of a judgment strengthened by long experience. We are told that he has effected remarkable cures, that he has never been known to lose a patient by neglect, or by mistaking his disease, and that withal he is very kind and extremely attentive. These, we are aware, are great recommendations: but he is a perfect stranger to us; we feel a kind of reserve and restraint toward him—as yet he has not our perfect confidence. How very different is the case when we ourselves have experienced all this—when we ourselves have witnessed his comprehensive view, the number and variety of his remedies, and the penetrating glance of genius in the moment of danger—when with grateful recollection we feel that we must ascribe to him either the preservation of some dear one’s life, or our own unhoped-for restoration to health and strength! Such is the difference between a reasoning faith on rational grounds and a personal faith based on our own experience and vivid conviction. And in truth this simile is not remote and far-fetched. It comes very close, indeed, to the matter itself, if only it be true that the soul is often diseased, and that religion presents to us no inexorable lawgiver of a rigid rule of reason, no stern judge of severe truth, but a wise physician touched with the feeling of our infirmities, and able to save to the uttermost.

Or let us take another case, which will go still more deeply and touch more nearly the very root of the social relations of life. An individual of high rank, as often happens, is about to enter into a lasting union with one of whom he personally knows little, if any thing. In regard to rank and fortune, of agreeableness of person and manner, as well as accomplishments, not to say mental endowments, he has the best and strongest assurances. But the character of youth is generally undeveloped. Not only may all that is morally beautiful, and every great and noble disposition, lie therein, but there may also be slumbering within it the violent elements of passion. It is only the full development of life and love that will expand the one or the other. The question, then, for one contemplating such a union is, can he have such a confidence in the character and sentiments as naturally ought to precede a union which is to last for life. She has received an excellent education—she enjoys a spotless reputation—her whole family stands high in the respect and esteem of men—its friendship and society are every where sought and valued, not merely for its rank and station, but also for its amiable qualities. Moreover, another lady of established character for all that is good and estimable, has the most favorable opinion of her, honors her with her friendship, and loves her as a younger sister, or as her own daughter. All these considerations are, perhaps, sufficient grounds and rational warrant for an anticipatory confidence in such a case. But how widely remote and how different a feeling is this from that deep trusting confidence which springs up after the union—which a wife’s conduct instils into a husband’s heart—when, no longer captivated by mere personal charms, but almost entirely forgetting them, he rather rejoices to notice and to contemplate those qualities of the inmost soul, which, being most congenial to his own tastes and habits, afford him a sure prospect of unbroken harmony and felicity in the remainder of their wedded life.

It is extremely difficult to lay down any general rule by which in individual cases the boundary line may be drawn between a mere reasoning faith, resting on external considerations, and one that is founded on personal feeling and experience of life, in its gravest and most decisive moments. Very often a confidence that in its origin was quite arbitrarily taken up on a cold calculation of reason, will suddenly receive a full confirmation, and pass into that profounder assurance which draws its strength from our own feelings and experience. And as it is in actual life, so it is likewise in the higher sphere of faith. In matters of religion, and of science also, that which originally was merely a belief of the cold and abstract reason is subsequently transformed by degrees into a profound faith, rising at last into an abiding personal feeling, and even a deep intuition of living truth. As a first beginning, then, and as the foundation of a better, and as the first step of a higher and fuller development, a merely rational faith requires to be treated with respect and judged of with all due allowance. But when it is set up as perfect and complete in itself, and challenging the most rigorous requisitions of science, or when it is put forth as sufficient in itself, then our decision must be that this self-devised rational belief is only a substitute for, and not faith itself. For this must ever be vivid and based on an immediate personal feeling, and on this account full of love, and indeed both founded upon and proceeding from out of love.

Properly, the three elements of higher life are inseparable; and it is therefore extremely difficult to propound any invariable law applying to individual cases, as to the order in which these three grades of internal development must or ought always to succeed one another. Essentially they are one and indissoluble. As faith and hope are based upon love, so is love dependent on both the former; and this is as true of genuine love on earth as it is of that which lives in a higher domain. If its faith be hostilely disturbed, then it loses its hope also, and the very root of its existence. If hope is entirely cut off, it does not, indeed, lose thereby faith itself, and its object, but it preys on itself.

That in which all these three grades of feeling are most perfectly united, blended, and fused together, is enthusiasm. All genuine enthusiasm is based on some exalted and elevating faith; it is a form and species of the higher love, and involves in itself a grand and divine hope. And this is true of genuine patriotism, and of artistic enthusiasm, no less than of the religious, which is most akin to scientific, especially as the latter was understood by the ancients, and according to the place it held in the Platonic philosophy. But though thus combining all three, enthusiasm is yet essentially distinguished from them. Enthusiasm is only an elevated state of the consciousness, which, although in capacity it admits of being durable, is generally regarded as transitory. Accordingly, it is of a passing state that the term is generally understood. But the three degrees of feelings are elements of a permanently exalted consciousness—of the mind generally, in its highest state. And this is even that triune living consciousness, restored again to perfect unity, and to fertile operation. It is even that to which I have been, from the commencement of these Lectures, continually alluding, and especially in the assertion that it is necessary to pass from the existing state of the consciousness—which is neither its fitting nor original condition—with its four parts, one of which is mostly divorced from the rest by its undue exaggeration, and to revert to its higher and living constitution; which return I spoke of as the essential condition of true philosophy, if not its very self. Now, if any should desire to give one common name to this higher, or, rather, highest, state of the consciousness, inclusive of its three elements, and call it enthusiasm, it would be necessary to add the remark, that this enthusiasm is absolutely one, universal, and of the highest kind, having for its object the divine itself: and that, moreover, it is abidingly permanent, and at the same time reconcilable and even really associated with the most clear-sighted prudence.

Some such a highly exalted and sublime conception of true enthusiasm is to be met with, and, indeed, predominates throughout the Platonic philosophy. So far, therefore, it might be said, that the essential in this harmonic triad [Dreiklang] of Christian sentiment was not wholly unknown to it, even though it knew nothing of the ideas of faith and hope in this form or direction. Comprising all in one, it gave such especial prominence to love as to make it by itself the very basis of science—of that science, at least, of which alone there can be any question in the present place, the science of the inner and higher life. For it considered such a science as being simply a love which has arrived at intelligence, and has thereby become firmly fixed, and, moreover, elevated to the highest degree of clearness and perspicuity.

The relation in which these three properties stand to spirit, soul, and sense—those three principles already mentioned of the consciousness, when in its undivided perfection it attains to a full, vivid operation—is somewhat of the following nature. Faith is an act of the spirit, by which the higher feeling, being distinguished and separated from all that is not essential, and being purely and spiritually apprehended, is set forth as an intelligent feeling, and consequently as a judgment, and in this light comprised in an imperishable idea. Love is the turning or directing of the whole soul toward the higher and divine, that is, even to God Himself. Hope, however, is the new life which emanates from them both, and in which the divine ideas become actual and active; or, in other words, it is the internal sense and fruitful susceptibility for the divine idea and its energies and influences.

Now, the next problem which properly comes before us in this place of our exposition of the human mind, and of the degree of certainty which is attainable by it, is accurately to determine and to indicate the true intrinsic essence of science. What, then, is it to know? How is it brought about and accomplished? In the next place, it will be necessary to explain the origin of error, which is ever opposing science, often imperceptibly deluding or undermining and destroying our convictions. This will, then, enable us to solve the questions and difficulties suggested by doubt in general, after we have once ascertained the place which is to be assigned to it in the human mind. And thus we shall at last be able to determine completely, precisely, and satisfactorily, the relation in which faith and enthusiasm, love and revelation, stand to science.

Now, in order to arrive at a full idea of science, it will be essential to distinguish its several elements—understanding and generalization [Begreifen], and also discernment—the different forms, too, of thinking—the necessary in reason, the possible in fancy, as well as the scientific cogitation of what is actual.