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

by Friedrich von Schlegel

But a far wider and more extensive view of antiquity lies before our eyes, and history in its comprehensive survey now takes in almost the whole of the ancient world. Modern inquiry, therefore, with its vast erudition, its patient observation and quickness of apprehension, has succeeded in establishing more completely than heretofore the general truth of this symbolical basis of ancient mythology. And by this means it has been able to trace the inner threads of a higher truth which lay concealed within those fictions, and were the source of their vitality; for it was from such a beginning of truth they originally set out, however widely in their subsequent course and growth they may have deviated therefrom. Indeed, if it is allowable, on the ground that the true religion must, from the very first, have been one and the same, to give the name of Christianity to the simple religion of the first men and great saints of the primeval world, then may we well venture to assert that a vein of Christianity and of the knowledge of the true God runs through and ever and anon manifests itself on the very surface of heathenism and in its several mysteries. And, in truth, it would be any thing but an unprofitable task to trace, through this variety of symbolical expressions, the sinuous and intricate course of the human mind in its manifold development, as it pursued every direction, and took up the most opposite positions in order to view and contemplate the truth. However, this Christianity of the primeval world, even where it kept itself free and pure from all admixture of fiction and distortion, can only be regarded as a Christianity in anticipation. Or, perhaps, we may look upon it as an ascending progression (though not uniformly advancing, but marked with many an apparent check and recession, or even many a void interval of expectation), up to the last term of consummation in the visible and actual manifestation; just as, on the other hand, Christianity, since that epoch, may appear to the historical inquirer in a descending series, if not in its definite form and shape or intellectual development, yet certainly in the inward moral sentiment, and the power of a living faith.

It is now a matter pretty generally admitted, and which is, moreover, daily gaining a wider concurrence, that in these fables, which, at the first glance, appear the mere sportive creations of fancy, there is even contained many a beautiful hieroglyphic of nature and of natural truth. A brief allusion to the fact, therefore, will suffice for our general view, which calls upon us to notice it just so far only as is necessary to make our survey of the human mind and its development complete.

Now, if it should be demanded of us psychologically to treat of and to discuss at length all the delusions of the fancy, we should, indeed, open for ourselves a wide field of labor. It would rival that of the ancients in their treatises on the possible fallacies of logic, and the illegitimate forms of its syllogisms, with the different rules for avoiding and detecting them. But in truth, the psychological illusions of the fancy in actual life are no less numerous nor less diversified in their manifestation than the differences of individual characters, which are incalculable. And as to those logical errors, on the other hand, which relate solely to the form of argumentation, the consideration of them will be most profitably attached to those branches of science which concern the particular province of life in which they severally occur. However useful for the purposes of practice a detailed analysis and dissection of them may be, it, nevertheless, lies wholly without the limits of our present speculations. By scientific errors, which, as arising from a natural disposition and exciting cause in the fundamental faculties of the human consciousness, deserve to be called innate, must be understood none but such essentially false views of the whole constitution of things, or such scientific systems as result from some one-sided tendency or perverted application of the principal powers of man’s mind. We are not, therefore, concerned at present with the poetic fancy and the psychological delusions of this faculty. It can only be with an imagination that has exclusively given itself up to a scientific direction that we can have to do in discussing the question, What false system, and what error in science generally, or in physical science especially, can have proceeded from a perverted use of this faculty of fancy? This, it appears to me, can be no other than the well-known materialism—the atomistic view of nature, and, what is so closely connected with it, that atomistic thinking whose deadening character is far more dangerous and fatal to philosophy than that much-decried “system of nature,”[74] which, for the most part, has outlived its day, and, in its former shape, at least, is obsolete and out of fashion. This atomistic view of nature can not, for one moment, be regarded as or explained by an error of the reason. For the reason seeks every where for an absolute unity. But these imaginary atoms, out of which all is composed and compounded, are infinite in multiplicity. Among them there is nothing like unity. All there is ever dissolving itself, and falling asunder into an innumerable multitude of separate individuals. Neither can it be termed an error of the understanding; for the latter does not merely and universally, or every where and principally, employ itself with such anatomical dissections and mutilations. It labors rather before all things to understand, to comprehend the whole, to seize the inner meaning, to fathom the true significance, and to gain a knowledge of the very essence, in its true spirit and meaning. But all this, as it implies a living principle, is also applicable to such alone. Where there is neither life nor spirit, there is nothing to understand. These simple, minute corpuscles of nature, or these indivisible particles of the universe, as the foundation and principle of the collective world of nature and of sense, would form an inexplicable and unintelligible aggregate. But, in fact, the dissection and anatomy of the visible objects of matter has never yet succeeded in reaching these infinitely minute primal particles of existence. On the contrary, the chemical analysis of bodies terminates in certain living elements of a wholly volatile nature, which defy and elude all such gross and material manipulations. The whole hypothesis, therefore, must be held to be perfectly arbitrary; it is altogether an unfounded fiction. It is, no doubt, highly unpoetical, and any thing but fanciful; nay, rather, it is fatal both to life and fancy, but a fiction it nevertheless is. And on this account its origin must be ascribed to the imagination. It was, therefore, in this sense, and relatively to this fact, that I formerly asserted that when once the imagination—that is, the scientific imagination—applied itself to palpable corporeal phenomena, then the error that it would give rise to would be a dry and meager production of a grossly material nature. I might almost call it an imagination of death, inasmuch as the whole of it is founded on the dreary hypothesis that all is dead and lifeless, and, as such, contrasts so directly with that ancient and once universally diffused creed of nature which we so lately spoke of as teaching that in the visible universe, and even in the external and corporeal world, notwithstanding its appearance of death, every thing is animated, living, and ensouled. Further to combat, or totally to refute, the atomistic theory, would be inconsistent with our present object; that, too, is a duty which belongs rather to what is properly natural philosophy. Moreover, it would be a superfluous task; for a truly living philosophy of nature, based on a very different position, and taking far higher views, has long since and almost every where taken the place of this hypothesis, which, as it kills the spirit, so it dishonors nature. One historical fact connected with the theory is, however, deserving our notice. Leibnitz, we know, opposed to these atoms of Epicurus, as the constituents of all things, his own monads, as so many living and ensouled unities. While, however, by this expedient, this great thinker, and in his way, truly exalted spirit, retained the same idea of universal and atomistic decomposition, he did but reveal in it, as in so many other instances, that feature of his character which enabled him, by a sort of half rejection of, half connivance at, error, to put it aside with the skill of a diplomatist, rather than to get rid of it altogether.

But in science there is another erroneous tendency, which is still more deeply rooted, and which is far more pernicious and dangerous to true living philosophy than these ancient atoms and all these false, materializing systems of nature, which in some degree carry with them their own refutation, and that is an atomistic mode of thinking, which has its natural source in the present defective and disorganized state of man’s cognitive faculty. True physical anatomy is a most valuable science, and has already led to most important results. In this respect its merits can not be rated too high, so long as it does not dream of detecting with its scalpel the long-departed principle of life, but contents itself with endeavoring to point out and decipher in the dead husk, the still remaining traces of its general constitution, or of certain morbid states of the life that once lived and moved within it. But the dead and barren anatomy of thought leads not to any similarly pregnant results. Beneath its dissecting hand, the life that is still present is extinguished forever; and from the history of every science, instances innumerable may be adduced to prove that before this baneful spirit of analysis all high and noble truth disappears.

There are, then, two principal sources of philosophical error. On the one hand comes the illusory phantom of unconditional entity and of identical thought, with all that follows therefrom in the most diversified forms either of scientific fatalism, or a poetical pantheism, or some false or perverted tragic view of the world and things. On the other stands the atomistic theory, with its kindred errors of a materialistic cast of thought, and the atomistic thinking itself, and the dead analysis of general notions, with that imagination of death so deeply rooted in the human mind on which they all rest. And these two delusions form that curse of mental blindness which from the very first has invariably rested on such usurped absolutism and omnipotence of reason when it sets itself up as supreme. Or they are, perhaps, the now hereditary diseased symptoms of mental poverty and numbness which mark and distinguish the faculty of thought whenever it is caught and tied with the fetters of materialism.

The above are errors of a general kind, whether faults of objective thinking or perverted directions of thought, on which the personal character exercises little influence. It has, however, a far greater effect on those forms and species of scientific error which have their seat in the human will and understanding; for in the latter all become more or less individual, and in them character, sentiment, passion, and the free resolve, exercise the greatest influence. Consequently it is extremely difficult in the case of those errors which flow from a common, or, at least, kindred source, and which are so intimately interwoven together, to separate and determine what portion belongs to the mere cognitive faculty, and what to that which wills, works, and acts. However, I shall venture to speak simply and plainly of the prejudice of egoism, as having its root principally in the will, even though it often springs up quite involuntarily. Its existence extends widely over the pursuits and thoughts of man, and is even apparent in the spiritual domain, where the pure pursuit of the highest truth is not altogether free from it. It is very seldom, however, that this error shapes itself into a decidedly and completely idealistic view of the world, and a similar perfect system of science. For such a view finds on all sides so much opposition, and becomes itself so involved with difficulties, that it never can be carried out into a universally consistent system. At any rate, such a system is very seldom of long duration. It is so decidedly in opposition to man’s inmost feelings, that when it is first propounded, its startling strangeness often gives rise to the doubt whether it be really to be understood literally, and were ever meant seriously. It frequently happens, therefore, that the first author and founder of such a system of egoism makes in his second revision of it many and essential modifications; or, rather, he may be more correctly said to take quite a different position, and to give a wholly new turn to his ideas. Of this many an example might, if this were the appropriate place, be easily adduced from the history of the human mind in general, while our own times furnish some striking and remarkable instances of it. A lengthy analysis and refutation of a real and decided system of idealism would, therefore, be scarcely necessary, inasmuch as, properly, it furnishes its own refutation; at any rate, it would not fall within the scope of our present disquisition, whose principal object is to give a full exposition of the inner and higher life. For this purpose, all that was required was to notice this scientific aberration as a peculiar and remarkable form in the whole system of human errors, and with this view to sketch, in a few prominent features, its general character.

What I have said of the system of idealism, I would not, however, by any means wish to be applied to idealistic doubt. For this, like doubt in general, may perhaps form a salutary and highly beneficial crisis, out of which a well-established and enlightened system of knowledge is to arise. Indeed, I am disposed to believe, however paradoxical it may seem (and perhaps it is a profound inward feeling of its paradoxical character that carries with it my conviction), that this idealistic doubt is more likely to lead to a welcome change in the prevailing views of science, than that doubt which assails life itself, and which, as directing itself against the freedom of the will, I would call a moral skepticism; for the latter is diffused very widely indeed, and without any scientific pretension, as the mere fatalism of ordinary reflection.

What, however, we are principally concerned with at present, is the prejudice accruing to the cause of science from the fundamental errors which cling to the human mind in its present form. Now in this respect the evil influence of the prejudice of egoism is perhaps the most extensive of all. Even when it does not manifest itself openly in its most extreme and revolting form, it secretly insinuates itself into all men’s thoughts and actions, and pervades more or less every region of truth. Indeed, we may say, or, rather, must confess, that even in the most able, pure, and perfect expositions of well-established truths—whatever may be the form they take, whether scientific, historical, artistic, or rhetorical, or perhaps be designed for the practical illustration and guidance of life—a certain subjective bone and coloring is more or less perceptible. Over all human compositions and not merely art and poetry (where, though not absolutely and universally, yet still to a certain degree it is allowable), a peculiar light is thrown from the personal Me of the author, as reflected through the immediate sphere of his associates and the circle of ideas in which his mind has been accustomed to revolve. Against such an influence, whether proceeding from ourselves or others, we can not be too diligently on our guard. In all our judgments and conclusions we ought carefully to put it aside. And this is the only true and legitimate abstraction which holds good both for science and for life. But thus to abstract our own Me and subjective peculiarities is a duty which is far from being commonly observed, and is, in truth, extremely difficult, even with the greatest honesty of purpose, perfectly to accomplish.

As we have so often spoken of an unintelligible medley of barren abstractions as so many empty forms of thought, this truer notion of abstraction may well be allowed a brief passing consideration. It seems not improbable that in an older form of science, and a more religious way of thinking, this notion did possess this higher and more correct signification. At least, it is evident that if we would meditate upon God and divine things, and give up ourselves fully and entirely to these contemplations, we must first forget the whole outer world and withdraw our thoughts from it, and at the same time rise above ourselves and go out of ourselves and our own narrow and finite Me. Almost all the notions of science possessed originally a grand and exalted import. It was only in course of time that, deteriorated by common usage, they sunk into empty formulas of error. In life, indeed, the subjective prejudices of man, under the influence of a will carried away and narrowed by them, has had so wide a range of action as to be co-extensive with the whole field of human action. The willfulness of children forms the principle obstacle that education has to deal with; and the inflexible obstinacy and passionateness of party spirit is the ruling power in public life, the cause of most of its catastrophes, and the source of its greatest perils. In short, were we to attempt to extend our survey to all the prejudices which spring out of narrow subjective views, and the great and extensive authority which long-cherished opinions exercise both over the inner man and the outer world, the chapter devoted to them in a system or manual of a practical knowledge of humanity would be as long as that which should enumerate the false syllogisms and all the violations that were possible, either in thought or practice, of the logical form of right reasoning, or even as that other which should comprise all the psychological delusions of the fancy. We must, therefore, confine ourselves to a brief, but still complete sketch. And to insure such completeness there is one remark to be made, which is far from unimportant, or at least not superfluous. And that refers first of all to the relation which subsists between the aberrations of the understanding and those of the will, and in the next place to that between the fancy and the reason, and to the contrariety usually arising from an undue predominance of either of these two faculties. Understanding and will stand in a very close connection together, their reciprocal influence being very considerable. In many an error, or at least in many a perverse and erroneous direction of thought and opinion, we are scarcely able to decide whether the will and sentiments, or the understanding and special modes of thinking, have the greater part. How difficult, for instance, is it to determine this point in the case of the predominant spirit of contradiction, whether it reveal itself as a reaction, having indeed an external exciting cause, but still thoroughly passionate, or appear in the shape of a mere delight in opposition, such as is found in many, and often highly distinguished individuals. For both these motives have great influence, not only in life but also in the domain of science, developing themselves therein as a fruitful source of error.

As to doubt: it is even that state, or that tendency of the mind [geist] peculiar to the understanding, which though in itself not absolutely culpable or faulty, is certainly erroneous, and one which in its extreme manifestation becomes a negative error of the very worst and most pernicious kind in science. I have already several times mentioned, in passing, and by way of anticipation, that doubt appears to form one of the most characteristic and peculiar of man’s fundamental properties. As sleep forms for man, as compared with the pure and ever-wakeful spirits, an essential and peculiar state of his organic life in the body, and as that eternal hope which is innate in the human soul is acknowledged to be its higher stamp and Godlike signature, just so and in a similar way must doubt be regarded as the inborn character of the human mind, or at least as one of its most indelible features. And indeed this struggle of doubt and hope (which even after the full attainment of internal certainty and peace, still survives in a degree, showing itself when we come to the special points of practical application, and in truth will never wholly cease in this lower world), this conflict between hope and doubt holds no less important nor less extensive a place in the inner spiritual world than the reciprocation of sleeping and waking does in the external and organic, maintaining the due equilibrium of the bodily powers and their healthy state. Now, doubt takes its rise pre-eminently and originally in the understanding. The latter is its appropriate place in the whole human consciousness, though from thence it quickly spreads over its whole sphere and extends to its utmost limits. The delusion so peculiar to the reason, of an absolute unity or identity and necessity, leads rather to a false and perfectly imaginary science, which for the most part aims at possessing or dreams of having attained to a mathematical certainty. And though the intrinsic contradiction and inconsistency which reigns in this absolute view of the world and things, notwithstanding the denial of all contrariety with which it sets out, and which, apparently at least, it does get rid of at the beginning, is well calculated to provoke and occasion doubt; still it is not the seat where doubt is originally engendered and first takes its rise. The act of understanding, on the contrary, supposes an antecedent state of its absence. The object or thought which is now understood for the first time, must have already existed as a given matter, standing before us as a problem for our previous ignorance up to the time that we succeeded in solving it. In truth, the act of understanding is nothing more than the passing from ignorance into intelligence. And this passage is not always effected at one step, but for the most part by slow degrees, and often very slowly and gradually indeed. Now, doubt, as the intermediate state between the original ignorance and the inward yearning after certainty, forms the crisis of this passage or transition. Primarily, therefore, and as stripped of all perverted applications and unlimited extension, it is not in its essence an impediment to knowledge, but rather an indispensable aid and useful instrument for the attainment and perfection of sciences. Wonder, according to the sense in which it is employed in some passages of the Platonic philosophy, as the inner amazement of the spirit, or the astonished rapture of the soul at the happy discovery—the first opening out of the truth—wonder, we might say, is the mother of knowledge, which bears in its womb and gives to the light the first germ of it; but doubt is the father, by whom the internal basis, and also the external form of science, is and can alone be perfected. And inasmuch as science, although relatively and for any precise and given form it may appear complete, yet in itself, and generally, and with regard both to its eternal diffusion and intrinsic advance, can never reach to full perfection in this lower world; therefore doubt can never properly cease altogether. But still, if doubt is to remain a wholesome co-operative power of knowledge, one requisition and demand, and one only, must be made upon it. It must never question the hope and the end of truth itself, and must not give up that inward search after knowledge, of which it is really designed to serve as the organ. In the form of a universal skepticism, however, it falls into a tone of unconditional decision, which involves an assumption of complete certainty, and, consequently, of a perfect, though negative knowledge, totally inconsistent with its true character. It thereby undermines its own foundation.