Very often, even in the noblest minds, a lively, open sense and profound sensibility of the soul for the higher truth is found associated with a secret dread and profound apprehension before it. At this, however, we need not to feel surprised. It is not so much a lasting illusion, as rather a slight partition-wall between the first new impression and our habitual self; for each fresh influence of higher truth draws us noticeably away from our usual circle of ideas, and often painfully eradicates some favorite notion and cherished opinion. This fact, then, will serve to explain this slight feeling of resistance which precedes a complete adhesion and identification, and as such requires to be treated with the utmost delicacy and tenderness. Or let us take the case of a great mind in possession of a higher and comprehensive knowledge, and most assuredly he could never have attained to it without many a bold venture in living thought; for without boldness nothing good or beautiful, much less great, is ever reached or attainable. And this is true also of language, for the bold thought demands a correspondent boldness of expression. Where, then, is such a one to look for the limits and the standard of a legitimate venture—the guide and safeguard against temerity—when his boldness of speculation springs really from a profound love of truth, and a pure enthusiasm for science? The risk of error and mistake, and even a sense of solemn accountability, meets him on all sides, and fills him with anxiety and reserve. The hypothesis has been deemed allowable, at least it has been advanced, invented by way of simile, of a man being intrusted with and holding in his hand the full truth—or, rather, let me say all truth in heaven and in earth—since, if we suppose science to be imparted and a gift, there can be no limits set or predetermined to its extent. Now, it has been asserted that such a person would be seized with hesitation, fear, and doubt, whether he ought to open his hand all at once, or only half open it at first, or whether he ought not even to keep it a long time closed. But to turn away from this fiction, which, in reality, transcends altogether the measure of human capacity, then, as regards the necessary gradation and salutary slowness that marks, and even the hesitation that must take place in all human learning and development, and even in philosophy, no less than in the internal region of the consciousness, what rule or guide has man? For such a standard nothing, apparently, remains to us but to assume the notion of a logical conscience as a quality in the true thinker necessary to preserve him from every false step, either within or without. That there is such a logical conscience, wholly independent of all moral relation, is perfectly obvious. By it we must understand not only a careful measuring and weighing of all thoughts, but even of every word and expression; and we have chosen this term as well fitted to enforce the great importance of this sensibility in matters of scientific truth, and to indicate the place in the consciousness where it properly has its seat, and the principle from which it must take its rise. The genius-gifted boldness of a great thinker would be little likely to convey confidence, if it were not at the same time associated and harmoniously united with the essential element of a cautious and gradual procedure. In its essential features, though in a somewhat different form and relation, the Greeks, in their philosophy, were acquainted with and possessed this notion of a logical conscience; for, in some measure, it is even implied in this very word philosophy, which was intended to indicate, and intrinsically means, an unselfish and pure pursuit of truth. But the fact becomes still more evident by the contrast with, or, rather, by the notion of, the sophist, as opposed to that of the philosopher. By the former they understood a common and vulgar traffic with wisdom, or even an interested and wholly unconscientious abuse of scientific truth to personal interest, or the gratification of selfish humors and passions, and even of vain glory. All this the Greeks regarded as absolutely worthless and despicable. And much is it to be wished that we, in our days, remembered a little better, and strove to imitate this stern morality of the old Athenians in their notion of the high dignity of truth, and of the respect due to this sanctuary of science, which, at the distance that they were allowed to approach to it, they reverently worshiped and honored.
LECTURE X.
THE apprehending of a real object in thought, unquestionably involves an act of knowing, so long, at least, as it is no empty thought, but has a real subject-matter. It is a piece of knowledge, even though it may be as yet very incomplete, both as regards its external connection with others and its inward development, and though it be highly defective also in form and expression. It is, moreover, possible that subsequently, by an incorrect analysis or other erroneous treatment of it, its usefulness may be destroyed, itself dissolved into naught, and stripped of true vital significance. And thus by our own fault, the thought, which originally possessed a true and real object, is reduced into a mere wordy formula, conveying actually no meaning at all. In order, then, to indicate the real distinction between the two, and at the same time to guard against all possible misconception, we would define as follows the intrinsic essence of knowledge: to know is the living thought of something real. The general indefinite term, thought, which we have here employed, is the right one and the most appropriate in this place, for it comprises every kind of perceiving and understanding, of judging and comprehending, of cognition and recognition, and serves to indicate the several elements and relations or differing degrees of knowledge, and of that intuitive inward certainty which is combined and associated with it. It would be far less accurate to say that knowledge is the correct thought, instead of the living thought of a real object; although, indeed, the former is involved in and inseparable from the latter. When a thought which in any degree apprehends or comprehends a real object, is said to be incorrect, this is as much as to say that it comprises much that is not found in the object itself, and consequently does not coincide with it. But that which is not contained in the object itself is, so far as it is concerned, unreal and does not belong to it. And all such is necessarily excluded from the notion of the thought of a real object, since otherwise it would be a thinking of what is unreal. The expression, too, of an incorrect thinking of what is real, would, no doubt, point to and indicate the same fact in every case where such thinking is a thoroughly defective and incomplete knowing, if, for instance, much that is essential and is really found in the particular object were not comprised in the thought or were wanting in it. This expression, consequently, is perfectly applicable, and indeed appropriate, when we wish to speak of a complete and perfect knowledge, and to distinguish it from one that is faulty and defective. But such knowledge slowly and gradually develops itself; the notion of knowing in general must precede that of perfect knowledge. The living thought of a real object, however imperfect and incomplete it may be, contains, nevertheless, the first beginning and germ of a knowing. It is only out of a dead thought that a true knowing can never arise; properly, indeed, when it is but a mere formula, it is not even a true thinking. Knowledge, therefore, in general is the living thought of some real object; but perfect and complete knowledge is the full and correct development of this thought, by means of which it becomes perfectly defined, both outwardly and inwardly. But a real object is invariably the first foundation and beginning, from which all knowledge springs up, and to which all thought must be immediately directed and also closely attach itself.
In an older form of philosophy, the supreme, or—as it was called, not very appropriately, if all its various relations be considered—necessary Being, was usually declared to be that of which the reality was at once given in its possibility, so that the proof of its actual existence would immediately follow from the mere idea of its perfection. This, however, is but one of the many forms of expression for the absolute unity of being and knowledge. We have already expressed ourselves sufficiently at large on the general topic, and we have only adduced this particular instance to serve as a passage to our exposition of another view, in the hope of throwing out the latter more distinctly and definitely by means of the contrast.
In that method of philosophy which takes its rise in no dead and abstract thinking, but rather in life itself and the living thought, reality, together with the immediate feeling of whatever is thus real and actual in the inward perception, as well as in external experience, and also in the revelation from above, forms the first beginning out of which all is developed. This is the fixed, stable point to which all that follows attaches itself. The necessary, which comes first after this reality, is simply the inner essential and complete connection of this first data. But the possible, which is not any mere arbitrary conception and chimerical invention, but something truly, and we might almost say really possible, forms the conclusion, as that which by a natural development results from the two former—the initiatory fact and its intrinsic essentiality. This simple series or natural progression in living thought forms and constitutes in the next place the different degrees of understanding, and even the internal grades of certainty and clearness in a continuously advancing development. The foundation of the whole is formed by the feeling of a reality, the perception of a fact, existing somewhere within the limits of that triple experience which takes in an inner and an outer and also a higher world. Now, the first step in this progressive intellectual development is formed by the notion or general term, which, as I formerly explained it, is a thought or conception that is mathematically determined and precisely limited, both inwardly and outwardly, according to the three dimensions of number, measure, and weight. In it all the several elements which, taken together, form the original thought or conception of the real object, are first of all duly separated and arranged, and then again united as organic members into a regular whole, or, after the manner of geometry, brought into a construction. But this act of comprising into a general notion [Begreifen] is by no means a perfect explanation of the matter. It is not, as it were, an analysis carried out fully and completely, so that nothing still remains to be explained. For even according to the ordinary usage of speech, we may very easily form and have a notion of any system, whether purely ideal or experimental, philosophical or unphilosophical, or belonging to any other domain of science, and even of a work of art, at the same time that we are forced to admit that there is much in it that we do not understand, or which appears to us inexplicable and unintelligible. This comprehending, which externally consists in the correct marking out of the whole circumference of an object, and inwardly, in the clear division and arrangement of its several organic members, is not the complete act of understanding; it is only its first step. As such, however, it may afterward attain to an internal confirmation, and become thereby the second degree in the approach to completeness of understanding. And this it does as soon as a cognition of the error which may either possibly rise up in, about, or together with itself, or is actually combined with it, is attained, and when, consequently, a clearer recognition of the opposing truth advances the mere feeling of a something real into an intelligent feeling or judgment of inward certainty. And this is the very essence of knowing. The third step in the further development or enhancement of the first living thought, or of its progressive approach toward completeness of understanding, is formed by the idea. The idea is distinct from the notion, even in its form. Unlike the latter, it does not set forth all that, under the given conditions, necessarily and essentially belongs together. In other words, it does not give the full and complete extent of the reality which was taken up by the original feeling and perception. It rather propounds the thought of a possibility, which, in a certain and definite view or direction, appears attainable. For instance, in our present development of the inner and higher life, the notion of the consciousness was followed by the idea of science, and the question how far it is possible and within the reach of man. Even in ordinary language this distinction is observed. How often do we hear it observed, that this or that scheme is a mere idea, signifying that it is a thought whose object is a something possible, but of which the reality or realization appears at the time highly problematical. On the other hand, by the term notion, strictly taken, it is usual to understand a thought which has for its subject-matter something relatively true at least, since, otherwise there would be nothing that we could have a notion of or comprehend. And simply on this account it is not possible that the idea should contain a perfectly definite and organically articulated construction of its object. For, in fact, an idea is merely the indication, the standard, and the rule of the possible. It is simply designed to show what is to be, and in what way it can be, attained, and perhaps, also, in what law of progression its attainment will be actually realized.
However, a truly scientific and scientifically useful idea is before all things closely and essentially dependent on the foundation of an inward certainty, or a feeling and conviction that the object which forms its problem, or the problem which is its object, is really and actually attainable. Consequently, it intimately depends on the intelligent feeling or judgment as to this inward certainty and truth in knowledge.
ANALYTICAL INDEX.
[A], [B], [C], [D], [E], [F], [G], [H], [I], [J], [K], [L], [M], [N], [P], [R], [S], [T], [U], [W].