Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/introductiontophOOpaul 
 
INTRODUCTION TO PHILOSOPHY 
 
 BY Y 
 
 FRIEDRICH PAULSEN 
 
 Professor of Philosophy in the University of Berlin 
 
 TRANSLATED WITH THE AUTHOR'S SANCTION 
 BY 
 
 FRANK THILLY 
 
 Professor of Philosophy in the University of Missouri 
 
 WITH A PREFACE 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM JAMES 
 
 Professor of Psychology in Harvard University 
 
 FIRST AMERICAN FROM THE THIRD GERMAN EDITION 
 
 L JUL 25 1895 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 1895 
 
 ► 
 
/ 
 
 ts'u </ 
 
 h 
 
 Das Wahre war schon längst gefunden, 
 Hat edle Geisterschaft verbunden, 
 Das alte Wahre, fass es an. 
 
 Goethe. 
 
 Copyright, 1895, by Henry Holt & Co. 
 
ab 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It gives me great pleasure to be sponsor to our public 
 for Professor Paulsen's Introduction to Philosophy. For 
 many years past young Americans have brought back tales 
 from Berlin University of the wide-spread interest in Phi- 
 losophy which Professor Paulsen's lectures were arousing 
 there and of the great influence of his Introduction 
 over students not pursuing a technically philosophical 
 career. Two years ago these introductory lectures were 
 published in the form of the present book. Professor 
 Paulsen is a farmer's son, was born in 1846 in Schleswig- 
 Holstein, took his Ph:D. degree at Berlin in 1871, became 
 Privat-docent in '75, extraordinary-professor in '77, and full 
 professor in 1893. The temper of his mind is essentially 
 ethical, and philosophy for him is nothing if it do not con- 
 nect itself with active human ideals. His most important 
 publications besides the present one are on Ethics and 
 Pedagogics. His History of German Universities has 
 just been translated into English by Prof. E. D. Perry of 
 Columbia College, and published by Macmillan, 1895. He 
 writes a style of which even English readers must feel the 
 euphony as well as admire the clearness, and which (un- 
 consciously, no doubt, to the author) reveals his heart as 
 much as it displays his technical mastery. 
 
 There have always been two ways of thinking about 
 Nature. For Christianity, e.g., Nature is something op- 
 posed to the truer unseen world, a surface of recoil to which 
 we must first die. For the more pantheistic systems the 
 relation of Nature to the Unseen is not one of contrast but 
 rather of less and more — there is but one world, partly seen 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 and partly unseen, and its evolution is simple and direct. 
 Now if we give the name of " naturalism " to any specimen 
 of the latter way of thinking that also asserts the univer- 
 sality of mechanistic determination throughout the universe, 
 the present Introduction to Philosophy may be briefly de- 
 scribed as an attempt so to state naturalism as to make it 
 harmoniously continuous with religious faith. Professor 
 Paulsen does not believe in a philosophy that is only a 
 "philosophy of the human mind." The philosophic aim 
 until Locke's time was always to give as unified an account 
 as possible of all existence in the heavens above and on 
 the earth beneath ; and our author thinks that Philosophy 
 should never have taken anything less than this for her 
 ideal task. On this view it is impossible to separate phi- 
 losophy from the natural sciences. But the natural sciences 
 left to themselves have more and more drifted towards an 
 atomistic materialism. For atomistic materialism, however, 
 the very existence of consciousness is inexplicable, and re- 
 mains what has been called by one of Paulsen's colleagues 
 an " absolute world-riddle." The notion that the spiritual 
 must be something completely foreign to the primarily 
 real, and its connection with the real an absolute enigma, 
 is of course sufficient, as oar author says, to stamp with in- 
 adequacy any theory that implies it. He accordingly sub- 
 stitutes for physical atomism an idealistic monism or mo- 
 dernized hylozoism which, being supported by inductive 
 arguments, is, to say the least, as " scientific " an hy- 
 pothesis. The universe on this view is animated or 
 spiritual both in its parts and as a whole, and the nature 
 of Being is most reasonably to be conceived everywhere 
 after the analogy of our own immediately experienced life. 
 In this latter, feeling and appetency are more primordial 
 elements than conception and reasoning, so it is fair to sup- 
 pose that the inner life of the infra-human parts of the 
 world is of a more appetitive or conative sort, whilst the 
 Soul of the larger totals (the globe which we inhabit and 
 the starry heaven itself) involving our rational souls, as it 
 does, also knows all that our reason lets us know and much 
 more besides. Psycho-physical monism has had a number 
 of advocates in recent years. I know none as persuasive 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 as Paulsen ; for his statement is untechnical, undogmatic, 
 classical in expression, and absolutely sincere. I should 
 go so far as to say that his exposition of the naturalistic 
 view as a whole is by the superiority of its form calculated 
 to supersede all previous general statements, and to serve 
 as the standard text for criticism by those to whom for any 
 reason the view itself is repugnant. 
 
 Passing now to the religious side of the book, there can 
 be no " conflict " between science and religion for Professor 
 Paulsen, for their diverse assertions about the world relate, 
 he says, to entirely different aspects of its being. The task 
 of science is to trace the facts, that of religion is to declare 
 the system of values which they form, or to measure their 
 teleological expressiveness. Eeligious faith, an utterance of 
 something in us that is deeper than the intellect, insists 
 that the facts not only exist, but have worth or import, and 
 that the order of Nature which science ascertains and de- 
 scribes is also a moral order. Such faith does not (when 
 taken in its essential purity) undertake to establish special 
 facts at all, but only to affirm a special sort of significance 
 for such facts as it finds. Whether facts that exist have 
 significance or do not have it is something that cannot be 
 proved or disproved by argument. If one feels the signifi- 
 cance, it is there ; but it can only be affirmed or denied 
 dogmatically, as it were ; so that religion and atheism stand 
 opposite to each other not as theories, but rather as expres- 
 sions of the will, and differing practical attitudes of men 
 towards life. The essential religious affirmation, according 
 to our author, is confidence that the soul of the world 
 (whose existence has been inductively made probable) is 
 good — in other words, that the vaster and more eternal sort 
 of Fact is also the more perfect sort of being. The belief 
 that this attitude of faith may be one's most important vital 
 function is also an expression of the voluntary life, and not 
 a theory that can be scientifically refuted. One's question 
 towards it is rather the practical question : Shall I keep 
 it ? or be shamed out of it ? or perhaps spontaneously give 
 it up? 
 
 There is a class of minds to whom Professor Paulsen's 
 system will seem intolerably loose, and on that account re- 
 
Vi PREFACE. 
 
 pugnant from beginning to end. The very charm and un- 
 technicality of his style will be accounted a crime by read- 
 ers who believe that only what is streng wissenschaftlich can 
 be counted true. I myself should be glad to see the system 
 tightened in certain places, and am personally doubtful of 
 many propositions in which Professor Paulsen believes. 
 All these defects, however, are minor matters in my eyes in 
 comparison with the one immense merit of his work, which 
 is its perfect candor and frank abandonment of dogmatic 
 pretence. The besetting sin of philosophers has always 
 been the absolutism of their intellects. "We find an assump- 
 tion that was the soul of Scholasticism, the assumption 
 namely that anything that is necessary in the way of 
 belief must be susceptible of articulate proof, as ram- 
 pant as it ever was, in the irreligious agnosticism of 
 to-day; and we find it moreover blossoming out into 
 corollaries, as, for instance, that to believe anything with- 
 out such proof is to be unscientific, and that to be un- 
 scientific is the lowest depth to which a thinking mind 
 can fall. Now these assumptions necessarily make phi- 
 losophy discontinuous with life, because biologically con- 
 sidered man's life consists for the most part in adjust- 
 ments that are unscientific, and deals with probabilities 
 and not with certainties. Professor Paulsen makes phi- 
 losophy and life continuous again ; so the pedants of both 
 camps among us will unite in condemnation of his work. 
 Life lies open, and the philosophy which their intellects 
 desiderate must wear the form of a closed system. We 
 need ever to be reminded afresh that no philosophy can 
 be more than an hypothesis. As a great contemporary 
 thinker, Renouvier, has said : " Toute philosophie qui ne 
 tient pas compte avant tout des incertitudes et des varia- 
 tions et' des contradictions de la philosophie, mais qui 
 s'entretient dans l'illusion de les supprimer pour s'en 
 affranchir, est, disons le hautement, un pur enfantillage, 
 auquel un homme ne doit plus s'arreter." 
 
 I frankly confess that it is the anti-absolutism of Pro- 
 fessor Palsen that pleases me in him most. I have said 
 nothing of the predominantly historic method of his expo- 
 sition, which in the pages that follow is very happily and 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 instructively carried out. Professor Thilly has well per- 
 formed the translator's task, and I may say that I have been 
 using advance sheets of the first three quarters of the 
 translation as a text-book in one of my courses, and that, 
 in a long experience as a teacher, it is one of the very few 
 text-books about which I have heard no grumbling. 
 
 I should be glad if these introductory words of mine 
 could procure for the Introduction to Philosophy a readier 
 reception by American and English students. 
 
 William James. 
 
 Harvard University, April, 1895. 
 
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE. 
 
 What prompted me to undertake the arduous, and 
 usually thankless, translator's task was the desire to render 
 a masterly book accessible to such lovers of philosophy as 
 are not familiar with the German language. Nowhere will 
 the student find a clearer and simpler presentation of the 
 fundamental problems of philosophy than in Paulsen's In- 
 troduction, nowhere will he receive, in so small a compass, 
 a more comprehensive knowledge of the views held by the 
 great thinkers of mankind. And though he may not al- 
 ways accept the author's own solutions, he cannot fail to 
 be stimulated and broadened by the suggestive reasonings 
 contained in the following pages. To be sure, no one who is 
 able to understand the original should rest satisfied with a 
 mere interpreter. Translations are at best but soulless 
 copies of living, breathing realities, and no man can ever 
 hope to reproduce the peculiar charm that lies in Professor 
 Paulsen's writings. 
 
 I am indebted to Professor James for his kind willing- 
 ness to act as sponsor for the book. It seems appropriate 
 that a man of whom we Americans are so justly proud 
 should do this service for his popular colleague at Berlin. 
 
 My thanks are due to Professors Leo Wiener and H. 
 T. Cory of the University of Missouri for the valuable aid 
 they have rendered me. And I am especially grateful to 
 my wife, who has faithfully assisted me in every possible 
 way during the preparation of the work. 
 
 Fbank Thilly. 
 
 Columbia, Mo. , June, 1895. 
 
 ix 
 
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 This book does not present a new philosophy. As the 
 title indicates, it offers an introduction to philosophy. Its 
 aim is to place before my readers what I have endeavored 
 to impart to the hearers of the lectures delivered by me 
 for a number of years under the same title. The volume 
 will guide them in their inquiries into the great ultimate 
 problems which the world puts to the thinking mind of 
 man, and lead them to study the great thoughts which the 
 spiritual leaders of humanity have proposed as answers to 
 these questions. 
 
 A historical account might serve as such a guide. Or 
 we might consider the problems and thoughts in the form of 
 a discussion of these questions. I have chosen the latter 
 method, or rather I was compelled to employ it, because it 
 seemed to me to be the only possible method. No man 
 can explain philosophical problems and their solutions 
 unless he has himself taken an independent stand in refer- 
 ence to them. Nor can he do so without introducing his 
 own views and judgments into the exposition. Hence I 
 shall not merely set forth the problems together with their 
 possible and historical solutions, but I shall at the same 
 time attempt to convince the reader that my solution is 
 the correct one. And so he will after all find a philosophy 
 in these pages. 
 
 I desire to be candid as well as to assist the reader in 
 taking a proper attitude towards the philosophy developed 
 in the following work. I shall therefore outline its char- 
 acteristic features at the very outset. 
 
 I characterize as Idealistic Monism the view towards 
 which the development of philosophical thought seems to 
 me to be tending, the direction along which the truth is to 
 
xü PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 be found. The contrary conceptions by which this view is 
 bounded and defined are Supranaturalistic Dualism and 
 Atomistic Materialism. The former is the system of the 
 church doctrine, the heritage of mediseval scholasticism 
 which was handed down to the eighteenth century in the 
 new scholasticism of Protestanism. It separates body and 
 mind as two substances merely accidentally and temporarily 
 conjoined ; it seeks to hold apart God and nature as two 
 realities foreign to each other. Atomistic materialism, 
 however, is the philosophy which the mechanical explana- 
 tion of nature, in vogue since the seventeenth century, re- 
 gards as containing not merely its own ultimate premises, 
 but the final notions concerning the world at large. 
 
 We may construe the whole history of modern phi- 
 losophy as the continued attempt to overcome this opposi- 
 tion. Traditional supranaturalism opposes God to the 
 world as an extramundane and anthropomorphic individual. 
 It assumes that after having once created the world out of 
 nothing this God continues occasionally to act upon it. 
 Modern science has cut the very ground from under this 
 view. The uniform reign of law in all natural occurrences 
 is the principle of natural science. One domain after an- 
 other has been made subject to this principle, and thus the 
 thought gradually has come to prevail with irresistible 
 force that all natural processes are to be considered as the 
 results of uniformly-acting forces. Materialism believes 
 that this notion is the final outcome of the scientific 
 knowledge of things, and invests it with the dignity of a 
 metaphysic. The whole of reality is nothing but a system 
 of blindly-acting physical forces. The old supranatu- 
 ralistic system defended itself against this view partly with 
 the traditional weapons of ontological and cosmological 
 speculation, above all, however, by aspersing and defaming 
 the materialistic philosophy and even the modern sciences, 
 whenever occasion seemed to demand it, as godless innova- 
 tions, dangerous to the state and society. 
 
 Philosophy attempts to overcome this opposition from 
 within. It everywhere attempts — and we may regard this 
 attempt as the moving factor in the entire development of 
 modern philosophy — to reconcile the religious vieiv of the 
 
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. xiii 
 
 world with the scientific explanation of nature. Many will re- 
 gard this as an attempt to square the circle. Perhaps the 
 task somewhat resembles that undertaking. Approximate 
 values only can be reached in the latter case. Nor is the 
 problem ever completely solved in the former. At any 
 rate, we must recognize it as a historical fact that the 
 philosophical thought of the last three centuries has been 
 tending towards this goal. 
 
 Modern science is its starting-point and precondition, 
 while the universal reign of law in natural occurrences is 
 its fundamental idea. Whatever is not in accord with this 
 thought lies outside of the sphere of modern philosophy. 
 Its second fundamental conviction is that the teaching of 
 natural science concerning reality is not all that can be 
 said of it, that reality is something else and something more 
 than a corporeal world moved according to the laws of 
 mechanics. Many different attempts have been made to 
 determine what this something is or to prove that it cannot 
 be determined at all. But everybody has at bottom 
 acknowledged its existence. What is not in accord with 
 this idea also lies outside of the pale of modern philosophy. 
 
 Both of these features are conspicuous in the two great 
 currents in which the philosophy of the seventeenth and 
 eighteenth centuries moves. The rationalistic-metaphysical 
 course of development, whose chief representatives are 
 Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibniz, recognizes the truth of the 
 modern physical view of the world and then supplements it 
 with a metaphysical view. The empirical-positivistic train of 
 thought native to England, represented by Locke, Berkeley, 
 and Hume, sets out from the same presupposition. Epis- 
 temological reflection, however, leads it to the belief that 
 the physical view is not absolute truth, but an accidental 
 view, a projection of reality upon our sensibility. In Kant 
 the two views meet and interpenetrate in a very peculiar 
 manner. But what is most important, from him we date 
 the significant turning-point which aims to bring about a 
 peace between the religious view of the world and the 
 scientific explanation of nature by separating the religious 
 disposition from the intellectual function and basing the 
 former on volition. 
 
xiv PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 The development assumes a peculiar form in the nine- 
 teenth, century. The development of philosophical thought 
 separates, in Germany at least, into three distinct epochs. 
 The first epoch is given up to speculative philosophy. This 
 is an attempt not merely to supplement the physical view 
 of the world, but to overcome it altogether by explaining 
 it in a speculative-metaphysical way by a spiritual-logical 
 principle. During the second third of the century, after 
 the failure of the speculative undertaking, philosophy lost 
 confidence in itself and was subjected to popular contempt. 
 Then the physical view gained the ascendency and expressed 
 itself in a materialistic metaphysics which it regarded as 
 absolute truth. This view largely prevails among the 
 educated up to this day. It has of late taken hold of the 
 masses, who are beginning to reflect on their condition. 
 During the last third of the century philosophy has been 
 awakened from its lethargy into new life, and has attacked 
 the old problem : not to supersede or to overcome the 
 physical view, but to supplement and complete it by a 
 broader and profounder conception of reality — by meta- 
 physics. Fechner and Lotze may be mentioned as the 
 representatives of the older generation, Lange and Wundt 
 as representatives of the new. 
 
 A closer examination of the philosophical state of the 
 present and the directions which philosophy is taking leads 
 me to make the following classification. 
 
 The philosophy of the present is : 
 
 (1) Phenomenalistic - positivistic. Its epistemological 
 creed is : There is no absolute knowledge of reality, least 
 of all in physics. The corporeal world is a world of phe- 
 nomena. Hence in Germany it leans on Kant. 
 
 (2) It is idealistic-monistic. Its metaphysical creed is : 
 In so far as we can attempt to determine the nature of 
 reality, we must turn to the world of inner experience. In 
 the evolution of mind we find the most intelligible, or rather 
 the only intelligible, expression of the content of reality. 
 The final thought to which the facts lead us is this : Eeality, 
 which is represented to our senses by the corporeal world 
 as a uniform system of movements, is the manifestation of 
 a universal spiritual life that is to be conceived as an 
 
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. XV 
 
 idea, as the development of a unitary reason, a reason 
 which infinitely transcends our notions. In this respect it 
 retains the general features of the cosmology of specula- 
 tive philosophy, or rather of all idealistic philosophy since 
 Plato. 
 
 (3) It is turning from an intellectualistic to a voluntaristic 
 conception, especially in psychology. Here we may recog- 
 nize first, the influence of Schopenhauer, secondly, the in- 
 creasing importance of the modern biological view. This 
 conception, however, is also coming to the front in meta- 
 physics and in our notion of the universe. At this point 
 it finds its support in the Kantian thought which assigns 
 to the will its proper place in the view of the world. 
 Protestant theology is also in a state of transition from in- 
 tellectualism to voluntarism due to these influences. 
 
 (4) It is turning to an evolutionistic-teleological view. 
 Modern cosmology and biology are exerting their influence 
 on metaphysics as well as on psychology and natural phi- 
 losophy. They are supported here by idealistic monism. 
 They have also begun to pervade practical philosophy. 
 Ethics and sociology, jurisprudence and politics are about 
 to give up the old formalistic treatment and to employ in- 
 stead the teleological method : purpose governs life, hence 
 the science of life, of individual as well as collective life, 
 must employ this principle. 
 
 (5) Finally, this element is connected with a characteris- 
 tic that marks the entire philosophy of the nineteenth 
 century and distinguishes it from the preceding period : I 
 mean its tent for history. The older philosophy rests on the 
 mathematical and natural scientific conception of reality ; 
 it is abstract and rationalistic. Speculative philosophy 
 begins with the interpretation of mental evolution ; it then 
 attempts to interpret nature historically, as it were, at least 
 according to a logical-genetical scheme. The natural sci- 
 ences have followed along these lines, and have in reality 
 treated nature historically in the cosmological and biologi- 
 cal theory of evolution. In doing this they are plainly 
 working into the hands of philosophy, which has always 
 endeavored to combine the physical and mental worlds into 
 a consistent view of the whole. 
 
xvi PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 Philosophy seems to me to be moving in this direction 
 at present. At any rate, this is the direction in which the 
 thoughts herein presented tend. 
 
 As was indicated above, modern philosophy finds itself 
 in a predicament because of its intermediate position be- 
 tween the religious view of the world and the mechanical 
 explanation of nature. Here, as everywhere else, the 
 mediator is very apt to find himself battling ivith two ene- 
 mies. On the one hand, philosophy is exposed to the attacks 
 of supernatural theology. It is accused of undermining the 
 doctrines recognized by the church and protected by the 
 state. In the beginning the power of the state was regu- 
 larly employed to suppress philosophical heresies, fre- 
 quently with success. To-day this procedure is practically 
 abandoned, at least on Protestant soil. It is true that such 
 has been the case only for a short time, and that in many 
 circles the inclination still exists to call out the police force 
 against the philosopher. Who has not heard the accusa- 
 tion, even in the most recent times, that the social democ- 
 racy is not a social or political party, but a view of the 
 world ; that atheism is its dogma, and that the infidel pro- 
 fessors are its instigators ? And to this day, Catholicism 
 adheres to the mediaeval conception that it is the duty of 
 the spiritual and temporal authorities to control philosophy 
 and to suppress it, if the case demands. The only differ- 
 ence is that the temporal power is no longer so willing to 
 proceed against heresy as of old. 
 
 On the other hand, philosophy is maligned by the rep- 
 resentatives of a purely physical view of the world. " The 
 philosophy professors," the most calumniated persons 
 since Schopenhauer, are derided as priests of the second 
 order, who are appointed to second the church in its 
 struggle against Science, as people who are paid to confuse 
 the youth by all kinds of obscure and abstruse discussions, 
 in order to prejudice them against Science and to drive 
 them into the arms of authoritative creed. 
 
 It is not my intention to defend philosophy against 
 these accusations, or to examine whether and how much 
 truth may be in them. All I care to do is to show that 
 they are due to the historical position which modern 
 
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. xvii 
 
 philosophy occupies. They will last as long as their cause 
 lasts, that is, as long as the opposition between the church 
 doctrine and science lasts. And as long as this hostility 
 continues the church will oppose a philosophy which 
 marshals the conclusions of science against the traditional 
 doctrine, rather than oppose the scientific detail work 
 which, by the very nature of the case, confines itself to a 
 very narrow sphere and may easily avoid a conflict with 
 the teachings of the church. And just so long will the 
 other side suspect a philosophy of being untrue to itself 
 that talks about limits of human knowledge, and concedes 
 the right of a religious view of the world alongside of 
 scientific research. And the stronger this opposition be- 
 comes the more difficult will the position of philosophy be. 
 " Materialism is the necessary correlate of Jesuitism ; the 
 water in these tubes invariably stands at the same height." 
 We find these words of Paul de Lagarde everywhere con- 
 firmed in history ; they are true of Protestant as well as 
 Catholic Jesuitism. The more rigorous the creed becomes, 
 the more intense becomes the animosity of the opposition, 
 and the more intense will be the animosity of both parties 
 against philosophy. The Church persecutes her as the 
 more dangerous champion of infidelity ; radicalism regards 
 her as an unreliable or faithless ally, who is in communi- 
 cation with the hostile camp. Philosophy will not find 
 peace until science is reconciled with faith. By faith, 
 however, we do not mean a system of dogmatics. Until 
 then her task will be to stay at her post between the two 
 hostile hosts, regardless of the missiles from either side, 
 having as her shield a good conscience, as her motto, 
 " Subject to no one but to Truth alone.'* 
 
 In conclusion, let me say a word concerning the manner 
 in which I shall treat the subject. I have everywhere set 
 myself two tasks : (1) to develop the philosophical problems 
 and their possible solutions, and at the same time to pre- 
 sent and to prove the solution which seems to me to be the 
 correct one ; (2) at every point to indicate, at least in out- 
 line, the historical development of philosophical thought. 
 That both methods regularly lead to the same goal is most 
 likely due to a kind of pre-established harmony. As far 
 
xviii PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 as I can see, every thinker has, on the one hand, regarded 
 his thoughts as a solution demanded by the facts, on the 
 other, as the goal of historical development, and has 
 attempted to convince others of this truth. Of course the 
 choice of the historically-significant points by which the 
 direction of the development is determined ultimately 
 and always depends on their agreement with one's own 
 thoughts. Just as, according to the old saying, " Man is 
 the measure of things," one's own thoughts are the measure 
 of the thoughts of others. 
 
 I expect that the objection will be raised that I am too 
 apt to ignore the differences that exist between the ideal- 
 istic systems, or that I obliterate them by harmonizing 
 them. It was not my intention to escape this objection. 
 My concern was to point out historically the main feat- 
 ures of this form of thought in its general outlines ; the 
 differences necessarily fell into the background. The 
 genius of Plato and Aristotle, Spinoza and Leibniz, Hume 
 and Kant, Fechner and Lotze, is certainly not the same, 
 and the differences between their philosophical systems 
 are great ; they saw that themselves. And yet it may be 
 expedient for the time being to disregard the differences 
 and to emphasize the great features that they have in com- 
 mon. In geographical instruction we first place before 
 the pupil charts which show only the main outlines of 
 countries and oceans, the principal mountain-chains and 
 the great water-courses. Special charts showing the small- 
 est details would simply confuse him. It seems to me that 
 the student fares similarly in the history of philosophy. If 
 the history is presented to him at the outset with its end- 
 less great and little differences of views and arguments, 
 helpless confusion easily results, and the end of it all is a 
 frightful scepticism. He comes to believe that the history 
 of philosophy teaches that every philosopher is opposed to 
 the other and hence that the entire undertaking results in 
 nothing. 
 
 In opposition to this view the historical suggestions 
 herein presented aim to produce the conviction that the 
 work of philosophical reflection which has lasted for so 
 many centuries has not been in vain, but rather that it leads 
 
PREFACE TO TEE FIRST EDITION. Xix 
 
 to a view of the world that is uniform in its main features 
 and assumes a more pronounced shape as the years roll on. 
 The history of philosophy is the road to truth as much as 
 the history of any other science. Of course it is full of 
 deviations and circuitous paths. 
 
 Should connoisseurs condescend to read this book and 
 then come to the conclusion that they have not been repaid 
 for their trouble, I shall not feel very much aggrieved. I 
 have never in my life met anybody who was able to satisfy 
 the connoisseurs, especially not in Germany that is so full 
 of connoisseurs in all branches of knowledge. But let them 
 not accuse me of having deceived them : an introduction 
 is surely not written for connoisseurs. 
 
 Should this book come into the hands of my old stu- 
 dents, I beg them to take it as a greeting from the author 
 and in remembrance of hours that were once spent to- 
 gether. I also hope that here and there a reader of my 
 Ethics will find in these discussions a desirable supplement 
 to many thoughts simply suggested in that work. 
 
 Fk. Paulsen. 
 
 Steglitz, near Berlin, Aug. 6, 1892. 
 
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 I have nothing to add to this new edition. I simply 
 desire to express my gratification that in an age like ours 
 that is so fond of the sensational, especially in its reading- 
 matter, a book as unexciting as mine should so rapidly 
 gain for itself a circle of readers and friends. So after all 
 it seems that our age is not altogether devoid of lovers of 
 the " old truth," as one would think were he to judge from 
 the books exhibited in our bookstores, and covered over 
 with all kinds of characters, and bound in all kinds of 
 colors. 
 
 The changes in this new edition do not go beyond an 
 occasional improvement in the exposition. 
 
 The somewhat defiant spirit with which the opinion of 
 the " connoisseurs " was rejected in the first edition has 
 not been resented by scholarly judges of the book. Only 
 one critic has assumed the air of a "connoisseur," and 
 pronounced judgment upon it with judicial severity : I mean 
 the reviewer in the Göttinger Gelehrten Anzeigen. He finds 
 that the book is certainly not written for " connoisseurs," 
 and certainly for those who are not adepts. " To introduce 
 young men to philosophy means to introduce them to hard 
 mental work." 
 
 Of course, not everybody can do such hard mental work 
 as is done in Göttingen by the master and his pupils. 
 It must be left to them "to impress the minds of the 
 youth with a correct image of what philosophy outside of 
 mere popular philosophy aims at." But let me go my way 
 and be consoled with a little verse of Goethe's : 
 
 "Was willst du, dass von deiner Gesinnung 
 Man dir nach ins Ewige sende ? " 
 Er gehörte zu keiner Innung, 
 Blieb Liebhaber bis ans Ende. 
 
 Steglitz, March 13, 1893. 
 
 Fb. Paulsen. 
 
 xxi 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Mature and Import of Philosophy 
 
 1. The Kelation of Philosophy to Keiigion and Mythology . 3 
 
 2. The Relation of Philosophy to the Sciences . . .15 
 
 3. Classification and Fundamental Problems of Philosophy . 44 
 
 BOOK I. 
 Zhe problems of flDetapfo^stcs- 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Ontological Problem . . 53 
 
 1. Historical Orientation 53 
 
 2. Materialism and its Arguments 60 
 
 3. The Practical Consequences of Materialism . .67 
 
 4. Critique of Materialism. Parallelistic Theory of the Rela- 
 
 tion between the Physical and the Psychical . . .74 
 
 5. The Consequences of the Parallelistic Theory. Panpsychism. 87 
 
 6. The Nature of the Soul. Intellectualistic and Voluntaristic 
 
 Psychology. The Unconscious Ill 
 
 7. The Nature of the Soul, its Metaphysical Constitution, and 
 
 its Seat in the Body 128 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Cosmological-Theological Problem . . . 145 
 
 1. Facts and Hypotheses .145 
 
 2. Atomistic and Teleological-Theistical Explanation of 
 
 Nature . . 150 
 
 3. Critique of the Teleological Argument . ... .158 
 
 4. The Theory of Evolution . . . . ', . .180 
 
 5. Mental Evolution . . . . . . . .193 
 
 xxiii 
 
xxiv CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 6. Insufficiency of Atomistic Metaphysics. The Notion of 
 
 Interaction 207 
 
 7. Causality and Finality 218 
 
 8. Pantheism and World-Soul 232 
 
 9. The Kelation of the Pantheistic Notion of God to Keligion . 243 
 
 10. Historical Evolution of Theism and Cosmology . . . 266 
 
 11. The Kelation between Knowledge and Faith . . . 313 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 XTbe problems ot 3£pistemolog£* 
 Introductory Remarks 339 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Problem of the Nature of Knowledge, or the 
 
 Relation of Knowledge to Reality . . . 344 
 
 1. The Idealistic Train of Thought 344 
 
 2. Reconstruction of the Realistic Conception for the Inner 
 
 World 352 
 
 3. The Knowledge of the External World . . . .369 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Problem of the Origin of Knowledge . . 378- 
 
 1. Rationalism 378 
 
 2. Empiricism 384 
 
 3. The Formalistic Rationalism of Kant 389 
 
 4. Critical Remarks on Kant's Theory of Knowledge . . 398 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The Problems of Ethics 421 
 
 Index 431 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 There was a time, and that time is not very remote 
 from us, when the opinion widely prevailed that philos- 
 ophy had outlived its usefulness, that the positive sci- 
 ences had taken its place. Its raison d'etre was conceded 
 on the ground that it served as a preliminary stage to 
 scientific knowledge, but it was held that we should no 
 longer attempt to gain a knowledge of the world and objects 
 by general speculation. Let philosophy eke out its ex- 
 istence as the harmless diversion of sterile minds that are 
 not fitted for real scientific labor. Not all, however, who 
 lay claim to scientific training ought to be required to busy 
 themselves with philosophy. 
 
 We need not discuss the question whether philosophy 
 is to some extent responsible for the discredit into which 
 it fell about the middle of this century. It is probable on 
 a priori grounds that this is the case. Nowhere was 
 philosophy so slightingly treated as in Germany. In that 
 country a period of neglect followed the reign of specula- 
 tive philosophy. It therefore seems natural to infer a 
 causal connection here, and to regard the contempt in 
 which all philosophy was held as the reaction against the 
 speculative philosophers and their disciples who, with 
 their overweening pride, had given offence to scientific 
 research no less than to common-sense. The German 
 reader had allowed himself to be intimidated long enough 
 by their austere manner, and had been imposed upon by 
 their turbid profoundness. He had permitted speculative 
 philosophy to characterize as shallow and to call in ques- 
 tion whatever he happened to understand. But he finally 
 
2 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 took courage and resolved to despise everything that might 
 remind him of his past humiliation. Had Hegel reached 
 Kant's age he would himself have lived to see the reaction. 
 Instead, others, like Fechner and Lotze, became the victims 
 of an indifference which they had neither caused nor 
 deserved. 
 
 Meanwhile a new era has arrived. Although the former 
 contempt for philosophy has not wholly died out, we may 
 say that this feeling is not characteristic of the last third of 
 the century as it was of the second. Philosophy is begin- 
 ning to recover from the effects of public neglect. It is re- 
 gaining the sympathy of larger circles and has resumed 
 more friendly relations with scientific research. 
 
 This is as it should be. For, in truth, philosophy is not 
 a matter that can outlive its usefulness. Nor is it the busi- 
 ness of a few barren and abstruse thinkers, but the con- 
 cern of all ages and all mankind. Indeed, we may say, 
 philosophy is not something that one may have or not have 
 at will. In a certain sense every human being that rises 
 above the dull level of animal life has a philosophy ; the 
 only question is what kind of philosophy he has. Is it 
 one rudely fashioned from a few stray fragments of knowl- 
 edge and disconnected thoughts, or one that is the result 
 of thorough and logical study, and founded upon a univer- 
 sal examination of reality ? 
 
 The intellectual life of man is distinguished from that 
 of the brute by his capacity to theorize and his ability to 
 see things in their relation to the whole. The lower ani- 
 mal sees and hears, and, most likely, has ideas and recol- 
 lections, but it does not reflect on them. They come and 
 go as isolated facts in the natural course of events. They 
 are significant only as motives for the will. In man, intel- 
 lectual activity emancipates itself from necessity. Theo- 
 retical interest is aroused. He gathers and examines the 
 elements supplied by perception ; he does not rest until he 
 has combined them into a systematic conception of the 
 whole. Practice and technics are satisfied with a knowl- 
 edge of details ; theoretical interest is directed towards the 
 whole. In this way philosophy arises. In the most gen- 
 eral sense of the term, philosophy is simply the continu- 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 3 
 
 ally-repeated attempt to arrive at a comprehensive and 
 sj'stematic knowledge of the form and connection, the 
 meaning and import of all things. 
 
 It is apparent that in this sense every nation and every 
 man, at least every normally-developed man, has a philos- 
 ophy. The plain man of the people, too, has a philosophy. 
 His catechism may have supplied him with the fundamental 
 ideas of the same. He gives an answer to the question re- 
 garding the origin and the destiny of the world and man. 
 In this sense peoples living in a state of nature have their 
 philosophy also. Thus the Indian and the New Zealander 
 formed a conception of the universe and its spatial struc- 
 ture. They had an answer to the question concerning the 
 Whence and the Whither of things, and saw a rational con- 
 nection between cosmic occurrences and human life. In 
 this interpretation, therefore, philosophy is a universal 
 human function. Philosophy is coextensive with mental 
 life. 
 
 1. The Relation of Philosophy to Religion and Mythology. 
 
 In the common usage of language the term philosophy 
 has a narrower meaning. We no longer speak of a history of 
 philosophy before the flood, as was commonly done form- 
 erly, nor do we designate as philosophy the contents of the 
 catechism or the ideas of savage tribes concerning the uni- 
 verse. All these we distinguish from philosophy as myth- 
 ology or religion. It is certainly not my intention to re- 
 move or obliterate this line of separation, but rather to 
 try to define it and thus more closely to determine the 
 nature of philosophy. We can distinguish philosophy 
 from religion according to two principles of division, that 
 of subject and that of function. First, we may say, the 
 collective mind is the subject of the mythological concep- 
 tion of the universe ; the individual mind, that of philosophy. 
 Wherever we have philosophy, it is the product of indi- 
 vidual mental effort. There is no philosophy without a 
 philosopher. For that reason it is named after him ; we 
 call it Platonic, Spinozistic, Kantian philosophy. Mythol- 
 ogy, on the other hand, like folk-lore and language, is not 
 the result of the conscious work of an individual, it is the 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 product of a whole people. There is no inventor of lan- 
 guage, nor an inventor of the primitive mythico-religious 
 views of the world, the origin of which is intimately con- 
 nected with language and poesy. Nowadays no one speaks 
 of a founder of the Egyptian or the Greek religion. The 
 Christian and Mohammedan religions have their re- 
 spective founders ; they, however, were not concerned 
 with an original creation of conceptions previously un- 
 known, but only with a reform whose aim is practical 
 rather than theoretical. 
 
 Corresponding to this subjective difference there is a 
 difference of function. Philosophy is the product of the 
 inquiring and thinking mind ; the mythico-religious concep- 
 tion of the world is the product of poetic fancy, which 
 combines and supplements its data and brings them into 
 relation with a transcendent world created by it. All 
 astronomical and terrestrial phenomena are at times, 
 though not consistently, conceived as the voluntary acts 
 of transcendent powers that are well or ill disposed 
 towards the ego, furthering or obstructing its aims. All 
 explanations are in answer to the question concerning the 
 Why and the Wherefore of things. 
 
 Philosophy, on the other hand, begins with intellectual 
 apprehension and takes things as they are. Its main 
 object is to discover the What and the How instead of the 
 Wherefore. Hence it aims, first of all, to determine 
 phenomena as such and their relations in space and time. 
 In this manner, it attains to a knowledge of laws, and with 
 the aid of this knowledge it attempts to explain objects in 
 general with increasing certainty. This is scientific pro- 
 cedure. Philosophy is originally nothing more than the 
 scientific knowledge of reality as distinguished from or 
 opposed to the mythico-religious notion of the universe. 
 
 Hence it follows that there is a difference in the manner 
 in which the individual forms his philosophy and his 
 mythico-religious ideas. The individual is a participant in 
 philosophy by an act of thinking, in mythology and religion 
 by faith. A faith-philosophy is as much of an internal con- 
 tradiction as a philosophizing religion. This is true even 
 of the highest forms of religion, for the individual partici- 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 pates in them, not as a thinking and inquiring being, but 
 as the member of a people, of a historical community. 
 His religion is essentially his, as something he has received. 
 Even though the content of philosophy is not his direct 
 production, it appears as something obtained through his 
 own exertions, as something which he might have thought 
 out for himself in the first instance. 
 
 The relation between philosophy and religion thus out- 
 lined throws light upon a conspicuous fact in the history 
 of mental life, the fact that there is often a hostile oppo- 
 sition between the two. For the most part strained rela- 
 tions existed between the philosophy of the West, in its 
 two great phases of development in antiquity and modern 
 times, and the traditional conceptions of religion. Indeed, 
 this relation often becomes one of open hostility. The 
 best known example of such a hostile encounter in the 
 history of Greek philosophy is furnished by the sentence 
 and execution of Socrates as a contemner of the gods and 
 a corrupter of the youth. But this is not the only case 
 on record. The history of modern philosophy contains 
 scarcely a page that does not tell of both internal and 
 external conflicts. The champions and pioneers of modern 
 thought were all of them opposed and persecuted by the 
 official or voluntary custodians of tradition, and in turn 
 regarded themselves as the opponents of the reigning 
 system. I have only to call to mind Bruno and Galileo, 
 Descartes and Spinoza, Hobbes and Locke, Voltaire and 
 Bousseau, Leibniz and Wolff, Kant and Fichte. All of 
 these men were treated as foes. They were either perse- 
 cuted and punished directly, or their writings were sup- 
 pressed and burned by the public executioner, or they were 
 hampered in their activity as teachers by all kinds of 
 restrictions and aspersions. The conflict has not come to 
 an end at the present day, even though the old weapons 
 have, for the most part, been discarded. Even in our age 
 a new philosophy is tested not merely as to its truth, but 
 also as to its agreement with the prevailing doctrine. If it 
 fails to pass this test, it is straightway rejected as repre- 
 hensible and dangerous. 
 
 The cause of this hostile relation is evidently to be 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 found in the close affinity between philosophy and religion. 
 The battle is one between hostile brothers or sisters. 
 The older sister demands the recognition of her authority, 
 the younger endeavors to emancipate herself from this 
 authority. She wishes no longer to serve as ancilla theologies, 
 but strives after freedom and independence. The conflict 
 ultimately amounts to a struggle of the individual against 
 the collective mind for freedom. At the outset, philosophy 
 invariably encounters the old conceptions of the world,, 
 which are the products of collective thought. The universal 
 mind is older than the individual mind. On the primitive 
 stage of development the genus is everything, the indi- 
 vidual the mere exemplar of the genus. In action and 
 judgment the individual is determined by customs, in 
 thought by the religious ideas and conceptions of the 
 community. The possibility of individual thought is far 
 removed from him. But in the course of development, 
 differentiation and individualization take place. The indi- 
 vidual now has the courage to be independent, and with 
 this feeling arises the courage to have convictions of his 
 own. According to Aristotle it is wonder, according to 
 Descartes doubt, which is the beginning of philosophy. 
 Both states mean the same thing, namely, the awakening 
 of individual thought which has hitherto either been 
 silenced or lulled to sleep by universal opinions. The 
 traditional collective mind rebels against this doubt or 
 wonder and its endeavors to form its own ideas concerning 
 the world and things, as a strange and unheard-of pre- 
 sumption. Why can you not rest satisfied with the 
 recognized and traditional conceptions of your ancestors? 
 it asks. This is impious presumption on your part, which 
 it is my right and duty to suppress, the more so since the 
 departure from the universal modes of thinking simply 
 opens the way to a departure from custom or tries to 
 palliate the same. 
 
 The efforts of antiquity to resist philosophy lacked 
 coherence and consistency. The mythico-religious con- 
 ception of the world had not developed a uniform system,, 
 nor did it possess an external organization that might have 
 rendered it capable of defence and resistance. Philosophy,, 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 7 
 
 therefore, soon became wholly free here. The case was 
 different in modern times. The Christian religion assi- 
 milated so much philosophy during antiquity and the 
 middle ages as to present a comprehensive system of its 
 own, one that leaves no room for a free development of 
 thought. In the church and its system of administra- 
 tion and instruction it possesses the external organization 
 which enables it at once to observe deviations from its 
 doctrine and to oppose them with combined authority. 
 On this account the struggle was much fiercer and lasted 
 much longer than in antiquity. The conflict is by no means 
 ended yet, even though the fundamental demand is no 
 longer made to subject philosophy to the ecclesiastical 
 system, at least not on the Protestant side. Still, a ten- 
 dency in this direction occasionally manifests itself. If the 
 attempt to bring the theological faculties back again under 
 the authority of the church should prove successful, we 
 should presumably not have to wait very long for the 
 attempt to subject philosophy to control. For the present, 
 however, there is little prospect of that. 
 
 How will the conflict end ? Will it last forever ? Will 
 it lead to an amicable settlement ? Or will it end with the 
 final defeat or destruction of one of the opposing parties? 
 
 The latter view largely prevails in our times. Eeligion, 
 it is believed, is on the wane ; philosophy and science 
 have undermined its roots ; the final outcome will be the 
 supremacy of science. 
 
 I cannot altogether accept this view. In a certain 
 sense, of course, it is correct : the old mythical conception 
 of nature is doubtless on the decline. The belief in gods 
 and demons that exist somewhere as individual beings and 
 interrupt the causal nexus in nature by means of occasional 
 encroachments is dying out and will not be revived unless, 
 of course, science and philosophy should disappear in the 
 West. It does not make any essential difference whether 
 we presuppose many such beings or only one. 
 
 On the other hand, I do not believe that religion will 
 die out with this belief. I do not believe that humanity 
 will ever be satisfied with scientific knowledge to explain 
 its inward relation to reality. Were man a purely intel- 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 lectual being, he would content himself with the fragments 
 of knowledge which scientific research gradually gathers 
 together. But he is not mere understanding, he is above 
 everything else a willing and feeling being. And religion 
 is deeply rooted in this side of his nature. Feelings of 
 humility, reverence, yearnings after perfection, with which 
 his heart is inspired by the contemplation of nature and 
 history, determine his attitude to reality more immediately 
 and profoundly than the concepts and formulae of science. 
 Out of these feelings arises the trust that the world is not 
 a meaningless play of blind forces, but the revelation of a 
 good and great being whom he may acknowledge as akin 
 to his own innermost essence. For in truth the real 
 essence of every religious belief is the assurance that the 
 true nature of reality reveals itself in that which I love and 
 reverence as the highest and the best, it is the certainty that 
 the good and perfect, towards which the deepest yearning 
 of my will is directed, forms the origin and the goal of all 
 things. 
 
 Inasmuch as this certainty does not come from sci- 
 ence, science cannot destroy it. It has its roots, not in the 
 understanding, but in the will. The understanding does 
 not judge at all by means of the predicates good and bad, 
 valuable and valueless ; it distinguishes the real and the 
 unreal, the true and the false. It is a registering machine 
 of phenomena and is indifferent to their value. Man, how- 
 ever, is more than a registering machine of reality ; conse- 
 quently he has not only science, but also poetry and art, 
 faith and religion. There is one item at least in which 
 every man goes beyond mere knowledge, beyond the regis- 
 tration of facts. That is his own life and his future. His 
 life has a meaning for him, and he directs it towards some- 
 thing which does not yet exist, but which will exist by vir- 
 tue of his will. Thus a faith springs up by the side of his 
 knowledge. He believes in the realization of this his life's 
 aim, if he is at all in earnest about it. Since, however, his 
 aim is not an isolated one, but is included in the historical 
 life of a people, and finally in that of humanity, he believes 
 also in the future of his people, in the victorious future of 
 truth and righteousness and goodness in humanity. Who- 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 9 
 
 ever devotes his life to a cause believes in that cause, and 
 this belief, be his creed what it may, has always something 
 of the form of a religion. 
 
 Hence faith infers that an inner connection exists be- 
 tween the real and the valuable within the domain of 
 history, and believes that in history something like an 
 immanent principle of reason or justice favors the right and 
 the good and leads it to victory over all resisting forces. 
 Prom these premises another conclusion naturally follows. 
 Man's historical life in turn is not isolated, it is a part of 
 the general course of nature and cannot in any way be 
 separated from it. If now the law prevails in the former 
 sphere that truth is fundamentally and permanently vic- 
 torious over falsehood, right over wrong, good over evil, in 
 spite of the fact that the opposite seems to be the case, 
 why should we not be permitted to extend this relation and 
 believe in a power of the good over the whole of reality ? 
 Least of all, it seems, ought this idea to be contradicted by 
 those who so emphatically affirm the uniform reign of law 
 in the world, and assert that history is a part of the uni- 
 versal process of nature. Whoever believes in a steady 
 progress in history, and at the same time regards the life 
 of humanity as a part of universal nature, makes all the 
 premises which must lead him to the belief that there is a 
 meaning in all things, unless indeed he desires to reject 
 his own conclusions. These premises will lead him to faith, 
 not to knowledge and proofs. For the meaning of history, 
 indeed the meaning of an individual life, is not a matter of 
 knowledge and proof. 
 
 What can hinder us from holding this belief ? Is it 
 the weak arguments that have brought such discredit upon 
 a good cause, and do we owe it to the understanding, which 
 rejects these arguments, to abandon the cause itself ? If 
 so, we shall be forced to the strange confession that the 
 final outcome and problem of science consists in showing 
 that the belief that there is a meaning and a reason in 
 things is nonsense and superstition. 
 
 Here the possibility is offered of a peace between sci- 
 ence and faith, between philosophy and religion, the possi- 
 bility of a real and permanent peace, not of a convenient 
 
10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 compromise, of a compromise made at the expense of truth. 
 Nor would this be a peace in which the parties merely tol- 
 erated or contemptuously avoided each other, it would be a 
 peace depending on a free and mutual recognition. The 
 first step to such a peace is the precise definition of the 
 problems. Above all, religion must cease to interfere with 
 the business of science as it used to do. It must grant 
 full sway to the investigation of natural and historical real- 
 ity. It has no right either to limit such investigation or 
 to dictate its results. Such a procedure would be fatal to 
 science. Eeligion may recognize the claims of science 
 without endangering its own existence. Science will never 
 wholly satisfy the heart of man, nor will it ever thor- 
 oughly exhaust reality. This fact it will acknowledge 
 more readily, the safer it feels itself against encroachments 
 upon its own domain. At the same time science will con- 
 fess its inability to supply the place of religion ; it will 
 admit that in addition to its own problem there is room 
 for another which it cannot solve. Besides the question 
 concerning the What and the How, man inevitably raises 
 the question as to the Wherefore. It is true, philosophy 
 has always attempted to answer this question as well. It 
 surveys the whole of life, and attempts to determine its 
 end or highest good. It surveys the sum-total of things, 
 and attempts to grasp their relation to the highest good. 
 But it is becoming more and more convinced that this un- 
 dertaking cannot be accomplished with the means of scien- 
 tific knowledge ; that, as Goethe remarks, existence divided 
 by human reason leaves a remainder. Hence the problem 
 to interpret the meaning of things, not by concepts of the 
 understanding, but by sacred symbols which satisfy the 
 heart, is left to religion. 
 
 The historical relation between science, philosophy, and 
 religion may be expressed as follows : Originally all three 
 were one. Causal explanation, theoretical exposition, and 
 ideal interpetration of reality are one and the same in re- 
 ligious mythology. The symbols of perfection serve at 
 the same time as explanatory principles of nature. These 
 two elements are not held apart, as yet, in scholastic theol- 
 ogy and philosophy. God is the highest good and at the 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 11 
 
 same time tlie first cause which all sciences, astronomy 
 and biology no less than history, employ as the principle 
 of explanation. Increasing differentiation which governs 
 all historical as well as organic life has also led to a divis- 
 ion here. Science has separated from religion and pursues 
 its aim, the description and causal explanation of reality, 
 regardless of the possibility of an ideal interpretation. 
 Eeligion offers faith its explaDations, regardless of the pos- 
 sibility of a scientific construction. The formation of 
 dogmas, which pretended to be a conceptual construction 
 of faith, has stopped. Philosophy occupies an intermedi- 
 ate position between the two. Starting from the known, it 
 seeks, as a universal science, to answer the question con- 
 cerning the essence and form of reality. It soon becomes 
 aware of the limitations of human knowledge. And the 
 insufficiency of this knowledge becomes all the more 
 marked when science inquires into the import and meaning 
 of things. It recognizes the impossibility of deducing the 
 form of reality from the assumed concept of its meaning, 
 and, conversely, of deducing the meaning underlying reality 
 from its form. The world is a mystery. It is left to relig- 
 ion, the custodian of all mysteries, to reveal to the heart 
 its hidden meaning. 
 
 The recognition of this differentiation is the condition 
 of peace. Whoever endeavors to impede this progress, 
 whoever strives again to subject science to dogma, or to 
 reduce faith to knowledge, wastes his efforts, and for his 
 part hinders the realization of a wholesome relation. 
 
 Is this peace near at hand ? The signs seem to be 
 favorable. Philosophy has long ago offered the hand of 
 peace. It is the cardinal point in the philosophy of Kant 
 that knowledge and faith are different functions ; both 
 are endowments of man's nature and capable of existing 
 side by side. The sum and substance of his undertaking 
 is to gain for each its rights : to protect knowledge against 
 the scepticism of Hume, faith against the dogmatic nega- 
 tion of materialism. In order to make room for faith, it is 
 necessary to remove the positive dogmatism of Wolffian 
 philosophy ; for negative dogmatism stands and falls with 
 positive dogmatism. That is what Kant means when he 
 
12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 says : " I was obliged to destroy knowledge in order to 
 make room for faith." The knowledge in question is not 
 the knowledge of science, but the alleged knowledge of the 
 transcendent philosophy and theology of the schools, 
 whose orthodox form necessarily provokes heretical forms, 
 especially when it is protected by the state. Kant there- 
 fore regards it as far more consistent with a government's 
 wise regard for sciences as well as for society, " to favor the 
 freedom of such a criticism, by which alone the labors of 
 reason can be established on a firm footing, than to sup- 
 port the ridiculous despotism of the schools, which raise a 
 loud clamor of public danger whenever the cobwebs are 
 swept away of which the public has never taken the slight- 
 est notice and the loss of which it can therefore never per- 
 ceive." (Preface to the Second Edition of the Critique of 
 Pure Reason.)* 
 
 After a transitory relapse into intellectualism, which 
 characterizes the reign of Hegelian philosophy, Kantian 
 philosophy again exerts the widest influence. It has 
 put an end to both speculative philosophy and dogmatic 
 materialism. Both of these attempted, though with differ- 
 ent objects in view and in different directions, to destroy 
 faith by means of knowledge, and to render it super- 
 fluous. And philosophers are not the only ones in our day 
 who lean on Kantian philosophy. Physicists and physi- 
 ologists do the same. It is true that each appropriates 
 something different from this philosophy. It is also true 
 that for many the appeal to Kant's theory of knowledge is 
 simply a shallow excuse for their thorough lack of positive 
 thoughts concerning God and the world. Nevertheless 
 we may assume that the present spread of Kantian philos- 
 ophy, on the whole, proceeds from a desire to reconcile 
 science and religion on the basis of Kantianism. 
 
 The spread of Positivism in France and England is a 
 parallel to the spread of Kant's philosophy in Germany. 
 This school emphatically rejects the church's guardian- 
 ship over science. Yet, on the other hand, it acknowledges 
 with equal emphasis that knowledge is something relative, 
 
 * Max Miiller's Translation, vol. i. p. 383. 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 13 
 
 and does not go to the bottom of things, and that we need 
 something else to express another side of our inner life, 
 the relation of our emotional nature to reality. Keligion 
 has always offered something to satisfy these demands. 
 Upon this point Comte and Renan, Mill and Spencer, are at 
 agreement. 
 
 On the side of religion we may welcome as a hope- 
 ful sign a movement that is rapidly gaining strength in 
 Protestant theology. I refer to the attempt to give the 
 dogma a new place and significance in church-life. A 
 former view regarded the dogma as the expression of theo- 
 retical truths. These truths, it held, can and must be scien- 
 tifically demonstrated by means of exegetical and histori- 
 cal proofs or ontological and cosmological arguments, or they 
 can and must be interpreted by abstruse speculation. For 
 the new movement, however, the dogma has the significance 
 of a formula that does not bind the understanding as 
 much as the will. It does not contain demonstrable predi- 
 cations of historical and natural reality, but articles of faith 
 in values that are universally recognized, that satisfy the 
 heart and determine the will. By rejecting scholastic phi- 
 losophy Luther rejected the artificial union between faith 
 and knowledge. The modern view follows his precedent. 
 It seeks to free Protestant theology from the intellect- 
 ualism of orthodoxy, from the intellectual mania for 
 demonstration and system, which again controlled it soon 
 after the Reformation, and to base church-life on the 
 gospel of salvation by faith and charity. 
 
 Thus the two parties make advances to each other. All 
 that seems to be necessary to establish peace is that the 
 church decide to render openly and without reservation 
 unto science the things that are science's. She has gradu- 
 ally consented, at least on the Protestant side, to render 
 unto Caesar or to the State the things that are of the State. 
 We may presume that she will also consent to render unto 
 the understanding what belongs to the understanding, 
 that she will unconditionally cede to it the entire domain 
 of natural and historical reality for free investigation, and 
 admit that she has neither means nor grounds for oppos- 
 ing the knowledge gained by scientific inquiry. When 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 that happens, philosophy and science will no longer regard 
 faith as an encroachment upon knowledge, but will confess 
 with Goethe : "It is the highest happiness of the thinking 
 being to investigate what can be investigated, and silently 
 to adore what cannot be explained." * 
 
 A radicalism that is absolutely hostile to religion and 
 that is at present spreading among the masses is cal- 
 culated to obscure this hopeful outlook. The hostile feel- 
 ing which was aroused among the educated a genera- 
 tion ago in consequence of governmental interference has 
 now taken possession of the masses, who are socially and 
 politically dissatisfied. Here, too, science is appealed to. 
 Science has shown, they declare, that religion is nothing 
 but a survival from the childhood of man, a survival which 
 the political and social interests of the governing classes 
 protect and preserve. The bourgeoisie was formerly under 
 the ban of the same delusion. The hatred of the political 
 regime and of the church in league with it was directed 
 against religion, and made infidelity a political article of 
 faith. Similarly atheism appears as the article of faith of 
 the social-democracy. It is the catechism reversed. The 
 old dogmatism was an enemy to science. The same may 
 be said of this new negative dogmatism in so far as its 
 own dogmas fetter the spirit of criticism and doubt. The 
 term " anti-priests," which a leader of the socialistic party 
 recently applied to certain hotspurs of the atheistic wing, 
 is indeed very suggestive. Religion as such occupies 
 an altogether neutral position in regard to political and 
 
 * In connection with what I have written above, attention has been 
 called to the recent controversy concerning the apostolicum. It was pointed 
 out that the prediction of an eternal peace had in this case again proved to 
 be an illusion. I am not ready to give up hope so easily I did not expect 
 the views which prevailed in theology a generation ago to yield the field 
 without a struggle. Winter takes its leave with reluctance, and a few 
 more snow-storms delay the coming of spring. But spring comes none 
 the less. The old orthodoxy's campaign of protest does not shake my be- 
 lief. Indeed, I perceive in this very fact a favorable sign. Did she not 
 feel herself in danger, she would not be so anxious to post her sentinels on 
 the walls. She sees that her days are numbered, that the youth are leaving 
 her ranks, and her oft-repeated protests make her believe in the strength of 
 her host. Thus she tries to scare her opponents and, if possible, to ward off 
 the inevitable. 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 15 
 
 social «parties. A belief in God is thoroughly recon- 
 cilable with the belief in humanity and the social brother- 
 hood of man, and only by the strangest misconception can 
 we attribute to Christianity a tender weakness for the rich 
 and well-born. Of course, this misconception of Chris- 
 tianity is not original with social-democrats or exclusively 
 confined to them. 
 
 Nevertheless this hatred prevails and will show its 
 effects. Eeligion can overcome it and prove its own truth, 
 not by hatred, contempt, and inquisitions, but by the 
 righteous fruits of justice and love. Christianity itself, 
 however, which has outlived so many revolutions of states 
 and changes in civilization, so many empires and peoples, 
 will also outlive the storms now threatening the European 
 nations. Nay, who knows but that its deliverance from 
 the interests of the governing classes of society may be 
 the condition of a new and grand development of its life. 
 
 2. The Belation of Philosophy to the Sciences. 
 
 The rational conception of reality is, as has already 
 been pointed out, the starting-point common to the 
 sciences and philosophy. Philosophy is science. What 
 distinguishes it from the other sciences ? 
 
 At first sight two views seem possible. Sciences are 
 distinguished by their subject-matter and their form. The 
 difference between philosophy and the other sciences 
 must therefore be sought either in the subject-matter with 
 which it is concerned or in the manner in which it 
 handles it. Both views have been brought forward. Ac- 
 cording to the former, philosophy has a field of reality of 
 its own that cannot be claimed by any other science. In 
 a classification of sciences, therefore, philosophy occurs 
 as a separate science co-ordinated with the rest. Accord- 
 ing to the other view, it has the same subject-matter as 
 the other sciences ; but it treats this in a peculiar way, and 
 is consequently distinguished from them by its method. 
 
 The latter view dominated the first half of the present 
 century. It was the view held by speculative philosophy. 
 The whole of reality, it assumes, is capable of a twofold 
 treatment, — of philosophical and scientific, of speculative 
 
1 6 INTRO D UCTION 
 
 and empirical treatment. In the two large fields of human 
 knowledge, in nature and history, we have side by side 
 natural science and natural philosophy, the science of his- 
 tory and the philosophy of history. The function of 
 science is, by means of methodical experience, to acquire 
 knowledge of the facts ; the function of philosophy, on the 
 other hand, is, by a process peculiar to itself, to set forth 
 the real essence and the inner connection of things. 
 
 This view disappeared when man lost faith in the 
 speculative method. Our age no longer believes in the 
 possibility of gaining an a priori knowledge of the meaning 
 of reality by means of a dialectical development of con- 
 cepts. As we know but one reality, so we know but one 
 truth, and one road to truth — rationalizing experience. 
 Thought without experience no more leads to a knowledge 
 of reality than irrational experience. The philosopher has 
 no royal road to knowledge. Pure speculation is in truth 
 nothing but a distorted reflection of knowledge, and this 
 knowledge is the result of experience, only its possessors 
 will not admit it. 
 
 If there is no special philosophical method, then the 
 second view alone remains — that philosophy is distin- 
 guished from the other sciences by its special subject- 
 matter. This opinion now predominates. Many different 
 attempts have consequently been made to stake out for phi- 
 losophy a special domain. According to a view commonly 
 held in our day, knowledge is the special object of phi- 
 losophy. Kant has the merit, if we are to believe K. 
 Fischer, of having procured for philosophy a secure place 
 among the sciences, by obtaining for it a special field 
 claimed by no other science, namely, that of knowledge. 
 " Things constitute the object of experience ; experience, 
 indeed the entire fact of human knowledge, constitutes the 
 object of philosophy." * 
 
 * History of Modern Pliilosophy, IIP, 16. A. Rielil agrees witli him in his 
 inaugural address on Scientific and Unscientific Philosophy (now also in the 
 work, Der phil. Kriticismus u. s. Bedeutung für die positive Wissenschaft, 
 II, 2, pp. 1 ff.). That philosophy is unscientific which, after the manner of 
 Greek philosophy, reasons about all things. That philosophy, however, is 
 scientific which, since Locke, has taken its place by the side of the other 
 sciences as a science of knowledge. 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 17 
 
 Others seek to distinguish philosophy from natural 
 science by assigning to it the field of inner experience ; 
 they define it as mental science. This is done by Lipps 
 in his work Grundthatsachen des Seelenlebens (p. 3). A. 
 Döring, on the other hand, defines philosophy as the inves- 
 tigation of goods and values, distinguishing it from the 
 other sciences, which deal with reality. In his work en- 
 titled Philosophische Güterlehre (1889), the need of such a 
 definition is set forth dialectically and historically. An 
 older, wide-spread view, which in a certain sense goes back 
 to Aristotle, defines philosophy as the science of first 
 principles or of the general fundamental notions and pre- 
 conditions of the separate sciences. 
 
 In my opinion, these attempts to draw a line around 
 philosophy, and to separate it from the other sciences, are 
 also open to serious and well-founded objections. Philos- 
 ophy is the science of knowledge, they say. Such a sci- 
 ence, however, has another and an older name : Logic, or 
 the theory of knowledge (epistemology). Why should it 
 exchange this name for another, and that, too, for one 
 already having a different and wider signification ? For, 
 according to the common usage of language, logic, or the 
 theory of knowledge, is one philosophical discipline out of 
 many. And the same objection may be raised against 
 the two other views. We are accustomed to designate 
 investigations of mental life in its historical aspects as 
 mental sciences in opposition to the natural sciences. 
 Similarly, the investigation of goods and values is com- 
 monly called ethics, or forms a part of this science. 
 Ethics, however, and the other mental sciences, do not con- 
 stitute the whole of philosophy. They are, according to 
 the common usage of language, parts of philosophy. 
 
 We shall perhaps, in a certain measure, be obliged to 
 return to the definition which describes philosophy as the 
 science of principles, a definition which Ueberweg, for 
 example, places at the head of his History of Philosophy. 
 Yet we cannot accept it as it stands. First, on account of 
 its indefiniteness. At what point do the principles, the 
 fundamental notions, with which philosophy presumably 
 deals, end ? At what point does the territory of the other 
 
18 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 sciences begin ? Shall philosophy treat of the essence of 
 matter, of force, of motion, of space and time ? In that case 
 it must treat also of the general properties of matter and 
 the general laws of motion, and that would bring it right 
 into the field of physics. Shall philosophy deal with the 
 nature of the soul, of life, of the principles of law and 
 of the state ? If that is so, where shall we draw the bound- 
 ary-line separating philosophy from politics, jurisprudence, 
 biology, and psychology ? Manifestly, the line can be de- 
 fined only arbitrarily, not by means of concepts. What is 
 to be considered as a question of principle and what not, 
 will depend on one's standpoint. The principles of the law 
 of liens or of copyright are just as much principles as 
 those of the laws of ownership or of the state. Further- 
 more, whence shall philosophy derive its science of prin- 
 ciples ? The answer comes, Philosophy shall explain the 
 fundamental concepts which the empirical sciences fail to 
 investigate. But how shall it reach a knowledge of these 
 things ? Shall it examine matter, employing the means of 
 observation and experiment? Why, these are the very 
 methods by which physics and chemistry seek to dis- 
 cover the essence of matter. If these are the only means 
 at the disposal of philosophy, then, obviously, the sciences 
 have no need of philosophy in order to discover what 
 matter is. They would scarcely be restrained by the ob- 
 jection that such inquiries transcend " the object, and con- 
 sequently the nature and the definition, of an empirical 
 science." * What do we care, they would say, for this 
 arbitrary boundary-line drawn by other sciences ? Has 
 philosophy a better way than the sciences to the knowledge 
 of the essence of things ? If so, we should have to return 
 to the definition which we have just rejected. 
 
 What difference is there, then, between philosophy and 
 the other sciences? If it is distinguished from them 
 neither by a special method nor by a special subject-matter, 
 it must coincide with them. 
 
 Indeed, it is my opinion that this is the case. Philoso- 
 
 * Harms, Philos. Einleitung in die Encyclopädie der Physik von Kar- 
 sten, § 89. 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 19 
 
 phy cannot be separated from the sciences ; it is simply the 
 sum-total of all scientific knowledge. All sciences are parts of 
 Sb uniform system, of a universitas scientiarum, the subject- 
 matter of which is the whole of reality. This never-com- 
 pleted system, which the ages are building, is philosophy. 
 Each particular science investigates a definite portion or 
 cross-section of reality. Physics considers reality in so far 
 as it is corporeal, and manifests certain general modes of 
 action ; biology considers the processes of life which take 
 place in this matter ; psychology considers the real from 
 another side, in so far as it is consciousness. We get 
 philosophy by combining all the results of these sciences 
 for the purpose of answering the question as to the nature 
 of reality. 
 
 To speak figuratively, reality is a great riddle put to 
 the human mind. Each of the separate sciences offers 
 data for determining the answer. Philosophy is the at- 
 tempt to solve the riddle, to find the key to the mysterium 
 magnum. 
 
 The common usage of language also leads us to this 
 conception. According to it, philosophy is not a separate 
 science, but a sum-total, a system of sciences. We usually 
 characterize logic, metaphysics, and ethics as parts of 
 philosophy. We have but to go a step farther and say : 
 Physics too, and chemistry and biology and cosmology, in 
 short, all sciences, belong to philosophy. 
 
 The objection will be raised, If all that is philosophy, 
 then it is an impossible task. Who would undertake such a 
 problem ? Who would profess to possess, or even to aspire 
 to, anything like such a comprehensive amount of knowl- 
 edge ? Would not he who attempted such a thing, to use 
 Döring's words, raise dilettanteisrn to the rank of a profes- 
 sion ? 
 
 Before discussing this objection I deem it proper to 
 show by means of a brief historical survey that the defini- 
 tion of philosophy formulated above is the only appropriate 
 one from a historical point of view. All the intellectual 
 efforts which have been designated as philosophy invariably 
 aimed at a unitary and comprehensive knowledge of the 
 world. To be sure, the definition of philosophy cannot 
 
20 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 really be determined by history. The definitions of sciences 
 are definitions of problems, and must therefore ultimately 
 be construed as such. Perhaps all former attempts have 
 failed or aim at an impossible goal. Nevertheless such 
 a historical justification will protect our definition from 
 the reproach of being an arbitrary, individual definition. 
 
 The word philosophy is of Greek origin. It was at first 
 employed, not as a technical term, but as a word in general 
 use. The reader of Herodotus will find it in the well- 
 known story of Solon's meeting with Croesus. Croesus 
 welcomes the Athenian with the remark that the fame of 
 his wisdom and of his travels has already reached him, 
 " that thou, philosophizing, hast visited a vast part of the 
 world for the sake of reflection (§eG>pir}S eive/ta)" Evi- 
 dently, the expression "for the sake of reflection (ßeojpir/^ 
 eiveKa) " intends to explain the word " philosophizing." 
 What makes Solon a " philosophical " traveller is the sur- 
 prising circumstance that he does not, like the merchant or 
 soldier, pursue a practical object in his journeys. Thu- 
 cydides, Isocrates, and others use the word philosophy in 
 a like sense, to characterize a general theoretical education 
 as distinguished from the technical or practical one.* 
 
 When we speak of Greek philosophy at present we do 
 not usually have in mind Solon and the general culture of 
 the Athenians, but the galaxy of men headed, according 
 to an old tradition, by the Milesian Thales. Why is Thales 
 called a philosopher, and in what does his philosophy con- 
 sist ? We can answer in a word : He is a philosopher be- 
 cause he sets up a general theory of reality — the theory 
 that all things have arisen from water and will return to 
 water. It is a very simple theory, but none the less a 
 theory — a first attempt to explain all things scientifically. 
 The same is true of his successors. Not water, another 
 holds, but air or fire or the four original elements or atoms 
 
 * References in Ueberweg, History of Philosophy, at the beginning 
 of the first volume. Compare also the exposition of the definition of phi- 
 losophy among the Greeks, at the beginning of Zeller's History of Greek 
 Philosophy. Let me also state that I have discussed the relation between 
 philosophy and science in the above sense in Avenarius' Vierteljahres- 
 schrift für Philosophie, vol. I, 15-50 (1876). 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 21 
 
 are tlie universal principles of reality. The philosophy of 
 Heraclitus, of Empedocles, of Deniocritus are attempts to 
 apply such thoughts universally. Of course, we cannot 
 speak of the existence of special sciences alongside of 
 philosophy at this period. 
 
 Besides, the name philosopher was not applied to these 
 men until afterwards. They were originally called wise 
 men (ao<poi, crcxpicrTai), or more especially, investigators of 
 nature ((pvcrwXoyoi). The disciples of Socrates were the 
 first to use the term in this sense. Plato and Aristotle 
 and their associates and pupils call themselves philoso- 
 phers. What does the word mean here ? Plato defines it 
 more closely by contrasting the philosopher with the 
 sophist. What difference is there between them ? Plato 
 represents the sophist as a man who travels through the 
 cities as an itinerant teacher for the sake of acquiring 
 money by giving instruction in all the sciences and arts 
 essential to culture, especially in rhetoric. His purpose 
 is therefore a practical one. He journeys from place to 
 place, not " for the sake of contemplation " {ßeGopirfS eive/ca), 
 but as a merchant, as a dealer in knowledge. The pupil 
 has the same practical end in view. He buys the knowledge 
 in order to elevate his social position, in order to increase 
 his influence and fortune. The philosopher, on the other 
 hand, is a pure speculator : he folloivs no trade and seeks 
 no gain ; the knowledge of things is his sole object. 
 Socrates is the typical pattern. It is the object of his life 
 to search after truth, and to destroy error and illusion. It 
 delights him, by free intellectual intercourse, to inspire 
 beloved youths to a like aim. There is something of 
 Socratic irony in the new expression. While the Pro- 
 tagorases and Gorgiases allow themselves to be called wise 
 men {aocpoi, aocpicrrai), Socrates and his disciples refuse to 
 be regarded as possessors of knowledge. Lovers of wisdom 
 is a less presumptuous title.* 
 
 * We may add that tradition traces this distinction back to Pythagoras. 
 It is stated that he was the first to call himself a philosopher, declining 
 the appellation of wise man. No one, he is reported to have declared, is 
 wise except God. At the same time he is said to have regarded pure specu- 
 lation as alone worthy of the philosopher. ' ' Life resembles a spectacle. 
 
22 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Here, too, the relation between philosophy and science 
 remains the same. Philosophy is the comprehensive sum- 
 total of all true knowledge. The sciences do not exist out- 
 side and by the side of it ; they are parts of it. Plato pre- 
 sents no systematic classification of the sciences. He 
 speculates on all things : on the nature of bodies, the form 
 of the cosmos, the nature of the state, of the soul, of pleas- 
 ure, of love, of rhetoric, of knowledge ; all these constitute 
 his philosophy. Aristotle was the first to arrange all 
 knowledge into classes, and to discuss the separate classes 
 systematically : logic, physics, psychology, cosmology, 
 zoology, metaphysics, ethics, politics, economics, rhetoric, 
 poetics. All of these taken together make up his philo- 
 sophical system, and outside of philosophy there is no 
 science in the real sense of the term. For history is no 
 science. All sciences concern themselves with the general 
 or with concepts. And in a certain sense mathematics has 
 no place in the classification, because reality is not its sub- 
 ject — at least not its immediate subject. 
 
 Such is the meaning of the term philosophy on its 
 native soil. The tendency towards universal knowledge 
 and the purely theoretical aim constitute its essential char- 
 acteristics. Philosophy is an end in itself, not a means to 
 an external end, and indeed, in the opinion of Plato and 
 Aristotle, it is the ultimate and highest end ; man reaches 
 his natural or divine destiny in the complete knowledge of 
 existence. God has put him in the world in order that 
 he may reflect on and interpret his works. 
 
 Later, an element that had always been implied in it 
 became more prominent in the notion of philosophy. 
 Philosophy came to denote the knowledge of the final 
 ends of life, and to characterize the disposition of the sage 
 and his manner of life as determined by these ends. Still, 
 the element of universal knowledge, the insight into the 
 nature of all things in general, and of man in particular, 
 remains its essential precondition. 
 
 Some attend it in order to participate in the contests; others, to do business; 
 the best, to look on. So it is in life : the vulgar seek fame and money; the 
 philosophers, truth." (In Diogenes Laertius, Prooem. 8; viii, 1, 6.) 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 23 
 
 The middle ages adhered to this notion of philosophy, 
 defining it as the unity of scientific knowledge. The 
 notion remained current up to the beginning of the present 
 century. Let me give a few examples. 
 
 Two men are usually placed at the head of modern 
 philosophy as the originators or first representatives of 
 the two great modern schools of thought : the Englishman 
 Francis Bacon and the Frenchman Rene Descartes. The 
 latter is the founder of the rationalistic-metaphysical, the 
 former the forerunner of the empirical positivistic line of 
 development. In both schools the conception of the rela- 
 tion of philosophy to the sciences remains the same. 
 
 Bacon distinguishes between historical and philosophi- 
 cal or scientific knowledge. The former occupies itself 
 with the concrete and particular; philosophy or science, 
 however, deals with general concepts. The former has its 
 seat in memory, the latter is the work of reason. After 
 referring revealed theology as a special mode of knowledge 
 to a separate class, Bacon next divides philosophy or 
 science into three branches, corresponding to the three 
 objects of the understanding, namely, God, nature, man : 
 into natural theology, anthropology (physical anthropology, 
 embracing medicine ; and psychical anthropology, in which 
 are included all the mental sciences), and natural phi- 
 losophy.* However inadequate this classification may be 
 in other respects, it nevertheless shows that Bacon's aim 
 is to include all scientific knowledge in the notion of phi- 
 losophy. Only history (and poesy) is excluded, simply 
 because it is not a science. 
 
 In exactly the same way Descartes embraces the whole 
 of scientific knowledge under philosophy. His chief 
 work embodying his system bears the title Principia 
 philosophiae. The first book contains a short discussion of 
 epistemological and metaphysical questions, the second, the 
 
 * De dignitate et augmentis scientiarum II, 1 : Historiam et experientiam 
 pro eadem re liabemus, quemadmodum etiam pliilosopliiam et seien tias. . . . 
 Historia proprie individuorum est — pliilosophia individua diniittit, sed 
 notiones ab illis abstractas coniplectitur. — III, 1 : Philosopliiae objectum 
 triplex — Deus, Natura, Homo. Convenit igitur partiri philosophiam in doc- 
 trinas tres ; doctrinam de numine, d. de natura, d. de homine. 
 
24 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 principles of mechanical physics, the third, the cosmology, 
 the fourth, a series of physical, chemical, and physiologi- 
 cal explanations. We should perhaps primarily call such a 
 work an encyclopedia of the natural sciences. In the 
 preface he himself defines philosophy as the totality of 
 human knowledge. As its main parts he mentions (1) meta- 
 physics, (2) physics, (3) the technical sciences — among them 
 in particular medicine, mechanics, ethics.* 
 
 This conception of philosophy remains unchanged in 
 the subsequent development of the two schools of thought. 
 Here are a few examples at random. At the beginning of 
 his logic Thomas Hobbes defines philosophy as the knowl- 
 edge of the causes of effects or phenomena which is derived 
 by correct thinking. Its aim is, as with Bacon and Des- 
 cartes, to further our ends by giving us power over things : 
 scientiam propter potentiam. Its main divisions are : Mathe- 
 matics ; natural science, which really begins with Coperni- 
 cus, Galileo, and Harvey ; and the philosophia civilis, which 
 in Hobbes's opinion is not older than the book De cive. As 
 not belonging to philosophy, he enumerates theology, both 
 revealed and natural ; and history, natural history as well 
 as political history — none of these being sciences. 
 
 John Locke likewise employs the term philosophy as 
 synonymous with science. As its main branches he desig- 
 nates Physica, or natural philosophy ; Practica, whose chief 
 part is ethics ; and Semiotica, the most important part of 
 which is logic. f That he too regards natural philosophy 
 as the principal part of philosophy, the preface to the 
 
 * Philosophiae voce sapientiae Studium denotamus, et per sapientiam non 
 solum prudentiam in rebus agendis intelligiinus, verum etiam perfectam 
 omnium earum rerum, quas homo novisse potest, scientiam. Philosophiae 
 prima pars Metaphysica est, ubi continentur principia cognitionis ; altera 
 pars est Physica, in qua inventis veris rerum materialium principiis, gener- 
 atim examinatur, quomodo totum Universum sit compositum, deinde speci- 
 atim, quaenam sit natura hu jus terrae, aöris, aquae, ignis, magnetis et ali- 
 orum mineralium. Deinceps quoque singulatim naturam plantarum, 
 animalium et praecipue hominis examinare debet, ut ad alias scientias inve- 
 niendas, quae utiles sibi sunt, idoneus reddatur, quae ad tres praecipuas 
 revocantur, Medicinam, Mechanicam atque Ethicam. 
 
 f Essay on the Human Understanding, iv. 21 . In the preface we read : 
 " Philosophy, which is nothing but the true knowledge of things." 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 25 
 
 Essay -on the Human Understanding makes sufficiently plain. 
 His only ambition, he says, is " to be employed as an 
 underlaborer in clearing tlie ground a little " on which 
 such masters as Boyle, Sydenham, Huyghens, and New- 
 ton have erected their lasting monuments. 
 
 The exact sciences employ the term in the same sense. 
 Newton entitles his work Naturalis philosophiae principia 
 mathematica. In a treatise written in 1695, the mathema- 
 tician Wallis thus speaks of the foundation of the Eoyal 
 Society of Sciences : " Our business was (precluding matters 
 of theology and state affairs) to discourse and consider of 
 philosophical enquiries, and such as related thereunto, as 
 Physick, Anatomy, Geometry, Astronomy, Navigation, 
 Staticks, Magneticks, Chymicks, Mechanicks, and Natural 
 Experiments ; with the state of these studies and their cul- 
 tivation at home and abroad. We then discoursed of the 
 circulation of the blood, the valves in the veins, the venae 
 lacteae, the lymphatic vessels, the Copernican hypothesis, 
 the nature of comets and new stars, the satellites of Jupiter, 
 the oval shape (as it then appeared) of Saturn, the spots on 
 the sun and its turning on its own axis, the inequalities and 
 selenography of the moon, the several phases of Venus and 
 Mercury, the improvement of telescopes and grinding of 
 glasses for that purpose, the weight of air, the possibility 
 or impossibility of vacuities and nature's abhorrence there- 
 of, the Torricellian experiment in quicksilver, the descent 
 of heav}^ bodies and the degree of acceleration therein, 
 with diverse other things of like nature, some of which were 
 then but new discoveries and others not so generally known 
 and embraced as now they are : with other things apper- 
 taining to what hath been called the New Philosophy, 
 which from the times of Galileo at Florence, and Sir Fran- 
 cis Bacon (Lord Verulam) in England, hath been much 
 cultivated in Italy, France, Germany, and other parts 
 abroad, as well as with us in England." * 
 
 The old notion retains its meaning in the Continental 
 philosophy which follows the leadership of Descartes. 
 Spinoza understands by a system of philosophy the unitary 
 
 * Quoted by Huxley, Lay Sermons, Essays, and Reviews (1891), p. 4. 
 
26 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 system of all scientific knowledge which corresponds to 
 uniform reality, Natura sive Deus. He calls his main work, 
 not a system of philosophy, but fflhica, because one main 
 branch of philosophy, the philosophia naturalis, is not 
 contained in it or is simply outlined in a few propositions 
 of the second book. Leibniz, who is at home in all the 
 fields of scientific investigation, in the historical investiga- 
 tion of sources as well as in mathematics and physics, has 
 exactly the same idea of the absolute form of science or 
 philosophy as Spinoza. He conceives it as a demonstrative 
 system in which we operate with concepts by means of a 
 system of signs as in arithmetic. In this sense he speaks 
 in a certain place of an Encyclopedic demonstrative* 
 
 Christian Wolff, who was the first to formulate modern 
 philosophy as a scholastic system, begins his treatise on 
 the nature of philosophy at the head of his logic by dis- 
 tinguishing between historical and philosophical knowledge. 
 The former establishes the What, the latter the Why. Cog- 
 nitio eorum,quae sunt vel fiuntjiistorica^cognitio rationis eorum, 
 quae sunt vel fiunt, philosophica dicitur. He who knows the 
 bare fact (nudam facti notitiam) that water in a river-bed 
 flows downward has historical knowledge. He, however, has 
 philosophical knowledge who knows that this is effected by 
 the inclination of the soil and the pressure of the upper par- 
 ticles of water on the lower. As a third kind of knowledge 
 he adds mathematics, which determines the quantitative 
 relations of things. For the rest, philosophy also employs 
 historical and mathematical knowledge. The third chap- 
 ter discusses the principal divisions of philosophy. There 
 are three of these : Natural theology, psychology, and 
 physics. Three normative sciences are added : Logic, prac- 
 tical philosophy based on psychology, and technology 
 based on physics. Ontology is added as the science of the 
 properties common to all existence. 
 
 It is evident, natural science everywhere constitutes 
 the principal part of philosophy ; nay, for some it forms 
 the real essence of philosophy. Everywhere its mode 
 of knowledge is the real form of all scientific-philosophical 
 
 * Opera philos., ed. by J. E. Erdmann, p. 169. 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 27 
 
 knowledge. The endeavor is made to raise the mental 
 sciences to the dignity of a science after the pattern of 
 natural science. Thus, for example, David Hume makes 
 this his aim in his Treatise on Human Nature, as the title 
 expressly indicates. 
 
 This view has not changed in the nineteenth century. It 
 is commonly accepted in England and France. I call atten- 
 tion to A. Comte's Philosophie Positive and to Herbert 
 Spencer's System of Synthetic Philosophy. Comte does 
 not regard the subject-matter of philosophy as differing 
 from that of the sciences : philosophy is the universal con- 
 sciousness of the condition, development, aim, and method 
 of scientific investigation in its various branches. Comte 
 considers it as his special task to raise the science of social 
 phenomena to the rank of a positive science, a rank already 
 reached by the natural sciences, astronomy, physics, chem- 
 istry, and physiology. This is the same aim which Hume sets 
 himself in regard to the mental sciences. And manifestly 
 Spencer's synthetical philosophy is on the whole modelled 
 after the same scheme. He defines philosophy as the last 
 and highest unity of scientific knowledge : " Knowledge of 
 the lowest kind is un-unißed knowledge ; Science is partially- 
 unified knowledge ; Philosophy is completely -unified knowl- 
 edge." * The author himself explains the absence of phy- 
 sics from his system, which includes psychology and bio- 
 logy, as a mere accident. 
 
 It is the nineteenth century which has brought confusion 
 into the settled traditions. Germany for a time held to a. 
 conception of philosophy that completely distinguished 
 it from science, nay, brought it into opposition to science. 
 
 The confusion begins with Kant. His starting-point is 
 the distinction between knowledge a priori and a posteriori. 
 By the former he means knowledge which reason may 
 completely deduce from itself, whereas experience is needed 
 in the latter case. The fact that judgments exist which 
 are a priori certain, and yet have objective validity, 
 forms the chief subject of argument in the first two main 
 divisions of the Critique of Pure Reason, namely, in the 
 
 * First Principles, part n., chap. i. § 37, p. 134. 
 
28 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 JEsthetic and the Analytic. Such judgments, Kant holds, 
 we meet at the outset in physics. For example : The quan- 
 tity of matter does not change ; the effect is equivalent to 
 the cause in the transmission of motion, etc. A systematic 
 exposition of all judgments a priori would be metaphysics 
 or philosophy in the genuine and true sense. The fact, 
 says Kant, " that this distinction between the two elements 
 of our knowledge, some of which are altogether a priori 
 endowments of the mind, while others are the a posteriori 
 results of experience, — the fact that this distinction has 
 been overlooked even by professional thinkers," has for so 
 long a time hindered the separation of philosophy from 
 the empirical sciences.* 
 
 So this new definition of philosophy for the first time 
 separated it from the sciences and made it independent of 
 them. Of course, Kant did not mean to say that this a 
 priori philosophy contained the whole of our knowledge, 
 and that it had any reason to frown upon the empirical 
 sciences. On the contrarj^, the propositions of " pure 
 natural science," taken by themselves, contain no knowl- 
 edge of reality whatever ; they are axiomatic propositions 
 which acquire significance and cognitive validity only in so 
 far as they serve to conceive the given manifold of sensi- 
 bility. Taken by themselves, they are empty schemata of 
 a possible experience. It is Kant's whole aim by means of 
 his Critique to destroy real or transcendent metaphysics, 
 the rational theology, cosmology, and psychology of Wolff, 
 and to put in its place a merely formal metaphysics. 
 
 An event, however, not unusual in history, occurred here. 
 Expressed thoughts have effects and destinies never in- 
 tended by their authors. Against his will Kant became 
 the father of speculative philosophy. From the Kantian 
 principle that the forms of thinking also constitute the 
 general laws of nature, or of the totality of phenomena, the 
 philosophy was developed which undertook to deduce the 
 whole world, both nature and history, from the nature of 
 presentation, by means of an immanent dialectical evolu- 
 tion of concepts. The fundamental conviction that a system 
 
 * Kritik der reinen Vernunft, Metliodenlebre, 3. Hauptstück. 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 29 
 
 of absolute knowledge of reality can be produced by a new 
 process of purely conceptual thinking, independently of 
 experience and the empirical sciences, characterizes the 
 philosophies of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel. " The science 
 of knowledge," says Fichte,* "absolutely ignores experience 
 and pays it no regard whatever. It would have to be 
 true even if there could be no experience at all, and it 
 would be a priori certain that all possible future experi- 
 ence has to be governed by the laws established by it." 
 He likewise declares, at the beginning of the Characteristics 
 of the Present Age, " that the philosopher performs his task 
 [here the interpretation of history] without regard to any 
 experience whatsoever and absolutely a priori, and that he 
 must be able to describe the whole age and all possible 
 epochs of the same a priori." 
 
 Fichte presents us with an a priori deduction of history. 
 Similarly Schelling gives an a priori construction of nature. 
 Incidentally he vents his spleen against that " blind and 
 thoughtless mode of investigating nature which has be- 
 come generally established since the corruption of philos- 
 ophy by Bacon and of physics by Boyle and Newton." f 
 
 In Hegel speculative philosophy reaches its comple- 
 tion. He constructs the whole of reality out of concepts. 
 Keality and truth are one in his system. We have also 
 the empirical sciences. They collect all kinds of knowledge 
 about particulars, not ex principiis, from the concept, but 
 ex datis, through external perception. Philosophy furnishes 
 us with the true knowledge of reality. Its form, the dialec- 
 tical development of concepts, is nothing but the subjective 
 repetition of the objective process of the development of 
 the idea, that is, of reality itself. 
 
 Never before had philosophy spoken in so proud a 
 strain. Wholly relying on herself, she now dismissed from 
 her service the sciences which were formerly her instru- 
 ments. She had no further use for them ; she had discov- 
 ered a " royal road " to knowledge. Now she evolved the 
 absolute knowledge of things out of herself. It is true, the 
 
 * Orundriss des Eigentümlichen der Wissencliaftslehre, § 1. 
 
 | Ideen zu einer Philos. d. Natur (1797), Works, I., Div. II. 70. 
 
30 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 old conception is to a certain extent preserved even Lere : 
 Philosophy is the totality of all real scientific knowledge, 
 but with this difference — formerly scientific research, es- 
 pecially natural science, was included in philosophy ; now 
 it is excluded, as a pre-scientific procedure. 
 
 However, the supremacy of speculative philosophy was 
 not of long duration. Since the thirties its reputation 
 rapidly declined, and finally this school, and with it all 
 philosophy, fell into contempt. Many causes united to 
 make its fall sudden and destructive. The most decisive 
 cause was the attitude of opposition which it had itself 
 assumed against scientific research. Natural and historical 
 science, each of which had attained to vigorous growth since 
 the twenties, pushed speculative philosophy to the wall by 
 depriving it of the confidence and sympathy of the younger 
 generation. The latter amply repaid philosophy for all the 
 scorn which speculation had heaped upon scientific re- 
 search. Philosophy is no science at all, it was said. In 
 fact it is not to be taken seriously at all. It is the sophis- 
 tical practice of speaking of all things in general, with a 
 certain air of sense and reason. Its professors are jugglers 
 who produce all sorts of obscure and profound oracles by 
 the promiscuous use of general concepts, to the amazement 
 of a lot of idlers. 
 
 Philosophy was in a sad state. She had relinquished her 
 old possession, the totality of scientific knowledge, in order 
 to run after a higher aim, pure knowledge a priori. And now 
 the latter with its dialectic method had eluded her grasp. 
 Like the dog in the fable who snatched at the shadow and 
 lost the meat he had held in his teeth, she lost everything. 
 What did she do at this juncture? The proper thing would 
 have been to designate speculative philosoplry as an inci- 
 dental aberration, and to return to the old definition. The 
 claim of philosophy to possess a special method of acquir- 
 ing knowledge of reality had to be relinquished. Hence 
 she was bound to return to the old conception of her rela- 
 tion to science. 
 
 This she failed to do. The cause is not far to seek. Her 
 representatives did not have the courage to return to the 
 old conception, which seemed to place them under great and 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 31 
 
 insupportable obligations. For by defining philosophy as 
 the sum of all scientific knowledge did they not seem to 
 imply that they possessed something like such knowledge 
 themselves? And who was willing to expose himself to 
 the derisive laughter with which such a claim would have 
 been met? 
 
 The case was different in ancient times. The Greek 
 philosophers would without reserve have made such pro- 
 fessions. Indeed, Democritus and Aristotle would have 
 said, we possess or seek something like a universal knowl- 
 edge of things. Nor would the mediaeval philosophers have 
 shrunk from the demand implied in this notion. Albert 
 and Thomas too, nay, every new-Hedged magister artium 
 just completing his biennium, — in the mediaeval universities 
 of Germany each master was obliged to lecture on philoso- 
 phy for two years after graduation, — would have accepted 
 the definition. He would have said : Indeed, I certainly 
 believe that in so far as such an achievement is possible to 
 man, I have familiarized myself with the sciences well 
 enough to claim a knowledge of all of them in a certain de- 
 gree. Have I not, in order to become a " master," made a 
 thorough study of all the works of " the philosopher " ? And 
 now I am able and ready to explain any science that 
 may be assigned to me either by choice, turn, or lot. (In 
 mediaeval universities it was not uncommon for lecturers to 
 draw lots for books.) For that very reason I am called 
 a master of arts, because I can teach them all, mathe- 
 matics and astronomy as well as physics and metaphys- 
 ics, logic and rhetoric, ethics and politics. Am I not 
 myself a miniature copy of the first grand master, Aristotle? 
 The doctor of philosophy of the sixteenth and even of the 
 eighteenth centuries would have said the same. Melanch- 
 thon also lectured on all the sciences which belonged to the 
 curriculum of the philosophical faculty, and often described 
 them in text-books that remained in vogue for a long time. 
 As late as the last century, Christian Wolff taught mathe- 
 matics and physics as well as logic, psychology, practical 
 philosophy, and political science. Kant would scarcely 
 have declined a chair of physics or of mathematics, 
 astronomy or geography, if it had been offered to him ; 
 
32 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 he refused, however, the professorship of poetry, which 
 involved the duty of giving instruction in Latin and German 
 versification. 
 
 To us, all this seems strange and impossible. And as a 
 matter of course it is impossible in our day. Scientific re- 
 search has branched out beyond measure, and has become 
 specialized during the last hundred years. The old professio 
 historiarum, which was for the most part connected with 
 the professio poeseos or eloquentice (called philology by us), 
 and also with the professio moralium, has been split up 
 into a dozen or more branches. The professio of the old 
 physicus has been divided into as many or even more sepa- 
 rate parts. Formerly, nothing less was expected of him 
 than that he should be able to give information concerning 
 all things in heaven and on earth. Now the field is divided 
 into a number of departments that increase with every 
 year. And each branch of science claims a man's entire 
 energy, so that he is hardly able to watch the progress in 
 the adjoining fields of learning. Nor do teachers any 
 longer change their subjects for the sake of an advance in 
 salary, as was commonly done in the last century. 
 
 The definition of philosophy has been fashioned by this 
 state of affairs. It is no longer possible to be a philoso- 
 pher in the sense of possessing the sum of all scientific 
 knowledge. No one attempting such a thing could escape 
 the judgment of the old lines : 
 
 Viele Binge wussV er freilich, 
 Aber alle wussf er schlecht. 
 
 Hence a new definition of philosophy is needed, one that 
 will make it possible for a man to be a philosopher. The 
 first condition is that it do not include all sciences ; above 
 all, not the so-called exact sciences. This inclination on 
 the part of philosophers is met by the desire on the part 
 of the sciences to free themselves from philosophy. It is 
 not regarded as a credit to a science to be reckoned among 
 the philosophical sciences. Physics, chemistry, astronomy, 
 physiology, and zoology regard themselves as independent 
 sciences ; they do not wish to belong to the domain of phi- 
 losophy any more than philology and history, which were 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 33 
 
 not included even in the old notion of philosophy. Nor 
 are politics and economics or political economy any longer 
 referred to the " philosophical " sciences. In short, all 
 sciences that have succeeded in establishing themselves as 
 independent branches have withdrawn from the old alli- 
 ance, and no longer belong to philosophy. Philosophy has 
 retained such disciplines as have not been able as yet to 
 establish themselves as separate and independent fields of 
 investigation, mostly such whose claim to be real sciences 
 is questionable, — as for example, metaphysics, ethics, 
 aesthetics, logic and epistemology, psychology (which would 
 like to become an " exact " science, in which case it would 
 most likely try to emancipate itself from philosophy), ped- 
 agogy, the philosophy of history, and all other branches 
 on which " philosophical " lectures are delivered in German 
 universities. 
 
 A definition was sought that would embrace this collec- 
 tion of sciences, which are in reality no sciences at all. 
 This led to the definitions mentioned above : Philosophy 
 is the doctrine of the form of knowledge — in order to ex- 
 clude the content ; or mental science — in order at least to 
 ward off the natural sciences ; or the science of principles 
 — in order to find an excuse for not considering particular 
 facts. These and many other unsound definitions, all of 
 which are evidently mere makeshifts, were offered. 
 
 Now it seems to me, philosophy must take courage and 
 re-establish its ancient definition. Philosophy is the sum 
 of all scientific knowledge. History demands that we ac- 
 cept this definition. Tradition has so firmly established it 
 that any other explanation would conflict with history and 
 the common usage of language. Moreover, the nature of 
 the subject itself demands it, as I intend briefly to show in 
 the following. 
 
 The sciences are not an aggregate of parts accidentally 
 heaped together, but a uniform whole. Reality itself is 
 not an aggregate, but a uniform whole, whose members 
 stand in a uniform and general relation to each other. 
 The knowledge of reality is a similar unified system. This 
 fact does not exclude differentiation — only differentiation 
 does not mean separation and isolation, but a living rela- 
 
34 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tion of all the parts to the whole. We have a practical 
 illustration of this relation in this, that each science needs 
 the others as auxiliary sciences ; isolated from them it 
 cannot solve its problems. Every branch of natural sci- 
 ence presupposes the rest ; biology presupposes chemistry 
 and physics ; and conversely also, physics needs physiol- 
 ogy ; in optics and acoustics, for example, the boundaries 
 overlap. Similarly, every branch of historical investigation 
 presupposes the others. Nor can the natural sciences and 
 the historical sciences dispense with each other. History 
 presupposes geography; chronology, astronomy. Philol- 
 ogy comes into contact with physiology. Archseology occa- 
 sionally appeals to geology and geography for help. The 
 reverse is true also. The natural sciences, although more 
 independent than others, cannot do without the historico- 
 philological sciences. It is customary now to class geog- 
 raphy with the natural sciences ; and rightly so. But 
 it would lack an essential aid in dispensing with the sci- 
 ence of history, which informs it of the changes which oc- 
 curred on the surface of the earth during historical times. 
 And so each science, being itself but a historical process 
 of development, is obliged to refer to its own history, if not 
 for the sake of systematic exposition, at least in order to 
 give us a general idea of its position and importance within 
 the whole of mental evolution. Note how much space 
 the historical part occupies in Humboldt's Cosmos. The 
 history of science is of especial importance in instruction, 
 although this fact is not universally appreciated — not even 
 in our universities. We may finally call attention to the 
 fact that all sciences stand in relation to psychology and 
 epistemology, and come into touch with one another in 
 these fields. The idea of a unity of the sciences is there- 
 fore not an arbitrary invention, but a necessary thought. 
 The ideal unity of an all-comprehensive system of knowl- 
 edge corresponds to the unity of the cosmos. Philosophy 
 is the historical name for this ideal unity. It is caprice to 
 rob this concept of its name or this name of its old signi- 
 fication. 
 
 But the objection mentioned before is raised : In that 
 case can there be philosophy? Is not the thing itself 
 
IRE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 35 
 
 made impossible by the definition ? Who would have the 
 courage to profess to be a philosopher? And is not a 
 theory of the universe in itself impossible, at least for the 
 human mind ? Thales may have undertaken such a task ; 
 one's courage is greatest at the beginning of the journey. 
 But now, after the labor of two thousand years has shown 
 the extent of the undertaking, we have become more mod- 
 est, and we are glad if here and there we gain a knowledge 
 of a portion of reality. We may answer : Doubtless phi- 
 losophy does not at present exist as a complete and final 
 theory of the universe, nor will it ever be realized as such. 
 However, this does not destroy the correctness of the defini- 
 tion ; the same objection may be made against any science. 
 Neither astronomy nor physics nor physiology exists as a 
 complete and final traditional scholastic system. The defi- 
 nitions of sciences are definitions, not of empirically-given 
 objects, but definitions of problems. And the validity of 
 these definitions depends on the proper characterization 
 of the problem, no matter what progress the solution may 
 have made. Indeed, even though the solution had not yet 
 been begun, the definition would retain its validity. It is, 
 one might say, adopting Kant's language, an idea, i.e., a 
 concept, for which there is no corresponding object in em- 
 pirical reality. The same holds true of the concept of 
 philosophy : it is correct and valid in so far as the prob- 
 lem of a unity of all knowledge is given. 
 
 Nor will the fact that no one can comprehend and pos- 
 sess all knowledge disturb us. By no means. Is there 
 any one in our day who can grasp all natural scientific or 
 all philologico-historical knowledge ? And yet we speak 
 of philologists and historians and physicists, not as pos- 
 sessors of science, but as investigators of their respective 
 fields. We employ the name philosopher in the same way. 
 It designates a man who strives after a uniform aud univer- 
 sal knowledge of things. This the well-chosen term ex- 
 pressly states : (piXocrocpos, a lover, not a possessor, of 
 knowledge. According to a well-known anecdote, Pythag- 
 oras desired to be called a philosopher (cf)ikocro(pos) in 
 order to avoid the presumption implied in the term sage 
 (crocpos). 
 
36 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Hence every scientific investigator is a philosopher, 
 who is possessed of the idea of the unity of all knowledge, 
 be his narrower field of investigation what it may — be it 
 physics or psychology or astronomy or history. We shall 
 not call him a philosopher who on principle confines him- 
 self to a narrow sphere, who knows nothing and cares for 
 nothing except his codices and readings, his acids and 
 bases, not because his field of research does not belong to 
 the territory of philosophy (in this respect he could never 
 escape being a philosopher), but because he has not the 
 mental habits which make a philosopher of the investi- 
 gator. 
 
 This, it seems to me, invests the name with its former 
 signification and dignity. It was purely theoretical ends, 
 and the universal aim of investigation, which with the 
 Greeks distinguished the philosopher from a mere mathe- 
 matician or physician. The same characteristic marks the 
 philosopher of our day, in spite of the great changes in 
 the aspect of the scientific world ; namely, devotion to pure 
 speculation and the contemplation of the whole. 
 
 That this is what we mean by the term is seen from the 
 way we use it commonly in our language. A man like 
 Darwin, who makes the most careful and painstaking exam- 
 ination of facts, for whom nothing is too insignificant, but 
 who traces their remotest relations and makes generaliza- 
 tions, we call a philosophical natural scientist. And in the 
 same sense we call W. v. Humboldt a philosophical phi- 
 lologist and historian. Whoever, on the other hand, nar- 
 rowly confines himself to a narrow field, whoever is famil- 
 iar only with his special subject and cares for that alone — 
 him we call an unphilosophical mind, perhaps also a trite 
 empiricist or specialist. If he understands his subject, if 
 by means of his implements he is able to supply science 
 with valuable material, we shall esteem him highly as a use- 
 ful artisan. Still we shall think that he is lacking in some- 
 thing, namely, in a higher, freer appreciation of things. It 
 will make no difference whatever in what field he is em- 
 ployed — whether, he occupies himself with mathematical 
 formulae or with syllogistic figures, with works on the fishes 
 of Japan or with the psycho-physical experiments on ap- 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 37 
 
 perception- time. One might write a history of philosophy 
 without being a philosopher. It is not the content but the 
 form which makes the philosopher. 
 
 Nor has the other meaning of the word entirely disap- 
 peared from our language. Whenever we see in a man 
 great powers of concentration, and notice in him a certain 
 retirement from the world and its aims, a certain lack of 
 practical skill, a certain indifference to possessions and 
 fame, we say, perhaps with a slight smile, he is a true 
 philosopher. We can also understand the indignation with 
 which Schopenhauer speaks of the degradation of philoso- 
 phy to a craft. We could more readily forgive a chemist 
 or a physician for making money out of his science. 
 
 Of late, philosophy is coming back to its old definition 
 in Germany. Thus W. Wundt defines philosophy as the 
 " general science whose business it is to unite the general 
 truths furnished by the particular sciences into a consistent 
 system." * The definition evidently presupposes the idea 
 of the unity of all scientific knowledge. Wundt would 
 not object to calling the complete system philosophy, nor 
 would he object to the demand that the philosopher 
 have not merely a smattering of knowledge, but also a 
 working knowledge in some particular field. Fechner, 
 Lotze, and F. A. Lange accept the same view ; the unifica- 
 tion of physical and mental facts into a world-system is the 
 final goal, and the thorough study of the sciences is the 
 road to this goal. 
 
 In returning to the traditional definition of philosophy 
 we reject two errors which result from a wrong conception 
 of it : the error that philosophy can exist without science, 
 and the error that science can exist without philosophy. 
 
 The first error confused the age of speculative phi- 
 losophy. Fruitless endeavors were made to spin philo- 
 sophical systems out of a few very general concepts — sub- 
 
 * System der Philosophie (1889, p. 21). In this thoughtful and impor- 
 tant work Wundt has undertaken to sum up our scientific knowledge as 
 well as to develop its necessary preconditions and its final consequences. 
 Metaphysics occupies the central position in it. Its object is not, like the 
 particular sciences, to restrict the synthesis of facts, according to the princi- 
 ple of cause and effect, "to certain fields of experience, but to extend it to 
 the whole of all given experience." (Preface.) 
 
38 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ject and object, nature and mind, being and becoming. 
 This error has almost entirely disappeared. We may find 
 the remnants of it in the opinion, which is occasionally 
 advanced, that a special study of philosophy is possible 
 without a study of the sciences — say by studying the his- 
 tory of philosophy, However instructive such a study may 
 be in itself, it cannot fail to be barren and empty unless it 
 is supplemented by scientific studies in other fields. The 
 true philosopher will deal with the things themselves. Even 
 if it be impossible for him to be an independent investigator 
 in all lines, he must make some field his own. In this way 
 alone will he go to work with a clear conscience ; in this way 
 alone will he acquire judgment in scientific affairs and be- 
 come able to gain an independent conception of the thoughts 
 of others and to use their investigations for his own pur- 
 poses. He has a free choice of the field ; it may lie within 
 the mental or natural sciences or at the boundaries of both 
 in physiology and psychology. As in the old proverb all 
 roads lead to Rome, so all roads in science lead to philos- 
 ophy, only not the road through the air.* 
 
 In our times the other error that there can be science 
 without philosophy is more fatal. It is implied in the view 
 that philosophy is a special science, like every other science,, 
 only not so well established ; it is an airy science of things, 
 not capable of exact investigation. There are persons who 
 shun a contact with philosophy as though they feared 
 thereby to weaken their sense for the real. Physics, be- 
 ware of metaphysics ! The advice is sound in so far as it 
 warns against hasty systematization, barren formalism, 
 and the confusion of metaphysical interpretation with the 
 physical explanation of phenomena. But it becomes un- 
 just when it seeks to hinder the sciences from reaching 
 ultimate and universal principles in their respective fields, 
 and from harmonizing them with the final results of 
 
 * E. Renan, Fragments philosop7iigues, p. 292 : " Philosopher c'est 
 connattre l'univers. L'univers se compose de deux rnondes, le monde 
 physique et le rnonde moral, la nature et l'humanite. L'etude de la 
 nature et de l'humanite est done toute la philosophie. . . . Le penseur sup- 
 pose l'erudit et, ne fut-ce qu'en vue de la severe discipline de l'esprit, il 
 faudrait faire peu de cas du philosophe, qui n'aurait pas travaille une fois 
 dans sa vie a eclaircir quel que point special de la science." 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 39 
 
 other sciences. That would be equivalent to surrendering 
 to popular metaphysics the problem of the general ex- 
 planation of things, and at the same time deprive the 
 sciences of their main motive. For we may say that ulti- 
 mately all sciences have their common root in philosophy. 
 If they are separated from this root they will wither away. 
 The final object of every science is not the explanation of 
 this or that particular phenomenon, not the knowledge of 
 this or that particular field, but the knowledge of the whole 
 of reality. The impulse to find an answer to the question 
 concerning the nature and meaning of things in general 
 originated scientific research or philosophy. The need of 
 a division of labor led to its separation into different fields. 
 It is not intended, however, that this division should isolate 
 the sciences ; it makes each particular one more efficient 
 in performing its part in the solution of the universal 
 problem. The theoretical interest, which forms the vital 
 principle of every science is measured by its relation to 
 philosoprry, and by what it can contribute to the solution 
 of the problem of the nature of things. This becomes 
 evident when we do not look to the personal feeling of the 
 investigators as much as to the entire historical develop- 
 ment of a science. What is it that places biology in the 
 centre of natural scientific research at the present time? 
 What impels it to make special investigations of the 
 lowest forms of life microscopically and micrologically ? 
 The hope, apparently, of thus obtaining a clue to the great 
 mystery of life and its development on earth. We should 
 not care very much for the thousand forms of lichens and 
 fungi, of monads and infusoria, as such. Within a narrow 
 circle an interest for the infinitely small may deteriorate 
 into a sport, but no science can be kept alive by that. Or 
 take astronomy. With tireless diligence it gathers observa- 
 tions, registers the positions of hundreds of thousands of 
 stars, calculates the paths of comets and of swarms of fall- 
 ing stars, discovers new planetoids and cosmic nebulae, tests 
 the intensity of light and the spectrum. To what end ? Is 
 it for the sake of the details ? Certainly not. No, we hope 
 in this way to gain a deeper insight into the constitution 
 and development of the entire universe. If this motive 
 
40 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 were to disappear, if this question ceased to interest us, 
 then our observations would soon be closed. Particular 
 facts may have practical or technical interest for us, as 
 the discovery of new combinations in chemistry. But the 
 theoretical interest, which forms the vital principle of a 
 science, is directed toward the general, and science becomes 
 philosophical. 
 
 The same conditions obtain also in the historical sci- 
 ences. It is true, the particular events, especially those 
 which bear a direct relation to us, are of immediate 
 importance. Still, here, too, the question concerning the 
 whence and the whither of all historical life is the vital 
 question. Should this question no longer interest us, his- 
 torical investigation would languish. The same result would 
 ensue if we had a thoroughly satisfactory answer to the 
 problem. In that case there would be no need of investi- 
 gation. The middle ages were in such a state. They pos- 
 sessed a philosophy of history satisfying all their demands. 
 Human life lay open to their view between creation and 
 the judgment day, divided into acts like a mighty drama 
 by the great events of sacred history. Consequently the 
 middle ages had no science of history ; they knew all that 
 was essential and worth knowing. What was the use of 
 delving into insignificant and unessential facts ? We are 
 not in such a blessed or unfortunate state, and therefore we 
 have become historians. We do not despise even the little 
 and the insignificant ; we preserve every fragment of an 
 ancient papyrus or of an inscribed brick. These things 
 may perhaps, in their proper place, throw a light upon an 
 epoch of ancient life and thought, upon a period of an ex- 
 tinct language, and thus illuminate the path which our race 
 has traversed on earth. 
 
 In this sense we may say, philosophy is the central 
 fire, the sun, from which life-giving warmth radiates upon 
 all the sciences. The soil of investigation becomes arable 
 only when warmed by these rays. And the work of an 
 individual science will bring forth fuller and riper fruit 
 in proportion to the sunlight that shines upon its field. 
 Whoever, on the other hand, grubs and digs at random, 
 without due regard to light and warmth, wherever he may 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 41 
 
 liappen to find a place, will reap scanty and unripe fruit. 
 A science, however, that forgets its relation to philoso- 
 phy or to the general unity of knowledge would, like a 
 garden deprived of the sunlight, grow to leaf, and be with- 
 out bloom and fruit. Or, to discard figures of speech, such 
 a science would perish in consequence of barren subtlety 
 or a senseless accretion of matter. Kant calls such erudi- 
 tion Cyclopean : it lacks an eye — " the eye, namely, of true 
 philosophy, the eye suitably to use the mass of historical 
 knowledge, the freight of a hundred camels." {Anthropol- 
 ogie, § 58.) 
 
 But what becomes of the professional philosophers if 
 this view be accepted ? Well, it seems to me, the term 
 itself has a somewhat curious sound. It is just as though 
 one should speak of professional blockheads. There are 
 scientists with and scientists without philosophical minds. 
 Physicists, astronomers, psychologists, biologists, histori- 
 ans, metaphysicians, sociologists, moralists, may all have 
 such minds or not have them. Philosophy does not exist 
 as a special profession. Nevertheless, should any one in- 
 sist on defining philosophy as a separate branch, we should 
 have to return to the Aristotelian distinction of a "first 
 philosophy," or philosophy in the narrower sense. Its 
 function would be the discussion of certain ultimate prob- 
 lems of reality ; it would be that which in our day is called 
 metaphysics. And to this task would have to be added 
 epistemological investigations, which are inseparably con- 
 nected with ontological and cosmological problems. But 
 if we thus wish to form a separate class for metaphysics 
 and epistemology, and call them philosophy in the narrower 
 sense, we are obliged immediately to add, that they can by 
 no means be discussed separately and in isolation from the 
 rest of the sciences. A purus putus metaphysicus — and the 
 same holds true of the epistemoiogist — is a chimera or an 
 empty babbler. The sciences alone, natural and mental 
 sciences, furnish the material by means of which to judge 
 of existence in general, and of the world as a whole. The 
 sciences alone supply the occasion and the subject-matter 
 for epistemological investigations. Hence it remains a set- 
 tled fact that a man is the better fitted to be a " professional 
 
42 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 philosopher," the more familiar he is with the two great 
 fields of scientific research — the mathematical-natural- 
 scientific and the philologico-historical fields. 
 
 Should any one, however, reply : " Professional phi- 
 losophy" is a presumptuous undertaking, inasmuch as 
 no one can satisfy this demand, we would be obliged 
 frankly to admit it. Still, a few arguments might be 
 adduced for a less radical view. We have already re- 
 marked above that the formation of settled convictions 
 concerning problems which we characterize as metaphysi- 
 cal and epistemological is not a matter of free choice. 
 Every human being who rises above the mere needs of 
 brute existence fashions for himself some kind of meta- 
 physics, some kind of conception of the nature of things, of 
 God and the w^orld, of the relation of our knowledge to 
 reality. We must furthermore acknowledge that it is 
 better to concentrate one's attention upon these problems 
 than to leave them to convenience or to chance. It may 
 perhaps be regarded as presumptuous in a man to offer to 
 communicate to us the results of his reflections. It is the 
 same kind of presumption, however, that the poet shows 
 when he publishes verses expressing his innermost ex- 
 periences and feelings. We might, however, with equal 
 right consider it as a kind of sacrifice on the part of a man, 
 not merely to impart the results of special investigation, 
 but to be ready to submit to public consideration general 
 views which are, by the very nature of the case, more 
 subjective and not as easily demonstrable. For does he 
 not thereby expose himself to public criticism and to a 
 kind of compassionate ridicule which tries to excuse his 
 weakness for speaking of things of which he has no knowl- 
 edge — at least no professional knowledge? It is strange 
 that any one who values his good name should venture to 
 pose as " a philosopher by profession " in a time like ours 
 that uses the term dilettante or mere amateur, with the 
 intention of insulting a scientific author, and is easily con- 
 soled for its lack of a connected system of philosophy. 
 
 The fact, however, remains that such persons never die 
 out. Poets appear again and again, who, heedless of the 
 fate of so many predecessors, expose their intellectual 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 43 
 
 children to tlie dull curiosity and the scornful ridicule of 
 the passers-by. Likewise there will always be men who, 
 like old Christian Wolff, are ready to expose their " thoughts 
 on God, the world, and the soul of man, as well as of all 
 things in general," to the malice of the prudent, to the 
 reprimands of the wiseacres, to the shrugs of the con- 
 noisseurs, and to the laughter of the multitude. Per- 
 haps they may find consolation in the thought that they are 
 not entirely useless to the community. If they accomplish 
 nothing else, they do one thing at least — they call our atten- 
 tion to the ultimate aim of all investigation, which is to 
 orient the human mind in the world of which it is a part. 
 The sciences are apt to lose sight of this aim. Led from 
 fact to fact, they finally forget their original purpose. The 
 reverse of what befell the son of Kish, who set out to seek 
 his father's asses and found a kingdom, happens to them. 
 Science, which set out to seek a theory of the universe, is at 
 last content and happy to find earthworms and quietly to 
 dissect them. And whenever, like Faust, it begins to feel 
 that there is something wrong with its critical endeavors 
 or its encheiresis naturae, it straightway consoles itself with 
 general phrases : Nothing is too insignificant for the true 
 scientist ; or, We are not yet ready for generalizations ; the 
 detail work must first be brought to a close.* 
 
 The metaphysician would cause that state of unrest 
 which hinders science from lapsing into quietistic speciali- 
 zation. His function in the workshop of science would be 
 to keep alive the idea of the ultimate aim of all investiga- 
 tion, perhaps also to exemplify in his own person the inad- 
 equacy of human power to reach this aim ; or to show that 
 
 * The philologist Schleicher, who, let it be said, does not himself belong- 
 to the quietists, characterizes this tendency of our times in his little treatise 
 on the Darwinian theory and the science of language: "We endure with the 
 greatest tranquillity the lack of a philosophical system conforming to the con- 
 dition of our acute and exact specialized sciences. For we are convinced that 
 such a system cannot as yet be constructed, that we must postpone the at- 
 tempt until we possess a sufficient amount of trustworthy observations and 
 assured truths from all spheres of human knowledge." Who can help 
 thinking of Horace's peasant, who stands at the bank of the river and waits 
 until the water has run down ? 
 
 "At ille 
 Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum." 
 
44 INTRODUCTION' 
 
 the human mind does not reach a final explanation of 
 things by way of science, but that faith and poetry have 
 their rights also. On the other hand, it would be his busi- 
 ness to bring the influence of scientific inquiry to bear upon 
 our view of the world. If this is left undone, if science 
 remains in isolation, if there is no serious philosophy, ob- 
 scurantism together with specialism will reign supreme. 
 This brings us to the definition which Kant calls the world- 
 definition of philosophy, in distinction from the scholastic 
 definition : " Philosophy, the science of the relation of all 
 knowledge to the essential ends of human reason." 
 
 Goethe, the poet-philosopher by the grace of God, por- 
 trays in his Tasso the character, the true gift, of the phi- 
 losopher : 
 
 Sein Ohr vernimnit den Einklang der Natur ; 
 Was die Geschichte reicht, das Leben giebt, 
 Sein Busen nimmt es gleich und willig auf ; 
 Das weit Zerstreute sammelt sein Gemüth, 
 Und sein Gefühl belebt das Unbelebte. 
 
 3. Classification and Fundamental Problems of Philosophy. 
 
 All possible scientific investigations may be looked at 
 from three points of view : they are concerned either with 
 the nature of reality, or the form of knowledge, or the 
 problems of conduct. 
 
 This gives us the old classification of the sciences cus- 
 tomary in later Greek philosophy — physics, logic, and 
 ethics. Physics is the science of the nature of things ; logic, 
 the science which deals with the forms of knowledge ; 
 ethics, the science of goods and values, the problems of 
 conduct and the principles of judgment. 
 
 Indeed, this division marks the ultimate elements of 
 scientific reflection. The names, it is true, have undergone 
 a change of meaning. The term ethics alone is still used in 
 its old sense. The other two sciences, however, now have 
 a narrower signification. The term logic is now commonly 
 used to designate the examination of certain formal rela- 
 tions of conceptual thinking. The most general considera- 
 tions of the nature, import, and origin of knowledge we 
 generally discuss under the head of epistemology 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 45 
 
 The meaning of the term physics is still more narrowed. 
 The Greeks defined physics as the science of the nature 
 of things in general ; it included the knowledge of the 
 organic world and of psychic life. We have excluded from 
 the concept of nature, first, the mental world ; physics or 
 natural philosophy is concerned solely with corporeal na- 
 ture. By the side of it stands psychology as the science 
 of the nature of mental life. Then the notion was still 
 more restricted. Physics now constitutes but a part of the 
 doctrine of bodies. The investigation of the most general 
 modes of action of all material elements forms its field. 
 Besides physics, we have chemistry, mineralogy, biology, 
 etc., which deal with the special manifestations of bodies. 
 In a measure we use the term metaphysics as the Greeks 
 use the term physics. We mean by it ultimate and uni- 
 versal inquiries into the nature of corporeal as well as 
 psychical objects ; investigations which, based on the par- 
 ticular sciences, like physics and psychology, seek to gain 
 a comprehensive view of the nature of reality. Indeed, 
 the etymology of the term suggests this meaning — meta- 
 physics, a science which goes beyond physics and its view 
 of nature. It is true, this is not the original signification 
 of the word. It was first used as the title of a work by 
 Aristotle, which the author himself called " First Philos- 
 ophy." It afterwards received the name metaphysics from 
 its place after the treatise on physics in the collection of 
 Aristotelian writings. We shall therefore employ the word 
 in the following pages to designate all attempts to reduce 
 our knowledge of objects to the most general views of the 
 nature of reality. We may specify as its real and ultimate 
 object, the unification of the physical and mental worlds, 
 or, what amounts to the same, the harmony of the causal 
 and final view of reality. 
 
 After what was said above concerning the possibility of 
 philosophy, I see no need of discussing the question whether 
 such a science is in any way possible or not. The episte- 
 mological-positivistic view denies the possibility of meta- 
 physics. Metaphysics, it holds, must be looked upon as a 
 great historical aberration of the human mind ; the positive 
 sciences and the theory of knowledge exhaust the sphere 
 
46 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of the knowable. To be sure, if by metaphysics is meant 
 the science of objects which lie beyond all possible experi- 
 ence or the a priori explanation of reality in a conceptual 
 system, then it has seen its clay. But metaphysics in the 
 sense specified above will never die out. The attempt to 
 find an answer to the ultimate questions which are put to 
 the human mind by reality will be repeated as long as 
 theoretical interest impels man to reflect. It seems im- 
 material whether these attempts be called science or not. 
 That the subjectivity of the thinker plays a greater part 
 here than in mathematics or physics, may be admitted 
 without reserve ; also, that the progress in the history of 
 metaphysics is not so continuous as in the history of the 
 exact sciences. Notwithstanding all this, however, it must 
 be acknowledged that the problems which are usually 
 called metaphysical are actually put, and that such investi- 
 gations form a field of their own. These questions may 
 also, it is true, be settled in the theory of knowledge ; in- 
 deed we might also, if we chose, assign them to psychology 
 or to physics. Every classification of the sciences is ulti- 
 mately accidental. But I cannot at all see the propriety 
 of depriving these investigations of their relative independ- 
 ence, and of discussing them incidentally in a different con- 
 nection. Thus if we consider these questions in the theory 
 of knowledge, they will be looked at from an unfavorable 
 and false point of view.* 
 
 In each of the three great branches of philosophy the 
 inquiry leads to a few ultimate fundamental problems. 
 I shall first give a brief and connected exposition of them. 
 The discussion of these problems will constitute the sub- 
 ject-matter of the subsequent chapters. 
 
 The examination of reality or metaphysics leads to two 
 ultimate questions, which I call the ontological and the cos- 
 mological or theological problems. 
 
 The ontological problem is expressed by the question : 
 In what does the nature of reality, as such, consist? A 
 
 * The reader will find suggestive remarks concerning the necessity and 
 object of metaphysics in J. Volkelt's Einführung in die Philosophie der 
 Gegenwart (1891), with which work my own book has many points of con- 
 tact. 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 47 
 
 simple answer to this question does not at first sight seem 
 possible. Keality does not appear to us as something ho- 
 mogeneous. Different sciences show us a wholly hetero- 
 geneous reality. Physics regards it as body which occupies 
 space and moves in space ; all its efforts tend to reduce 
 natural phenomena to the regular movements of particles 
 occupying space. In the mental sciences we meet reality 
 as something entirely different ; here it appears as some- 
 thing sensitive, presentative, thinking, feeling, striving, 
 willing. Psychology deals with processes of consciousness, 
 phenomena which we can neither see, nor touch, nor meas- 
 ure, nor at all conceive as processes occurring in space. 
 
 What is the relation of these two forms of reality to 
 each other ? Does reality consist of two entirely different 
 kinds of existence ? Or can these two forms, the physical 
 and the psychical, be reduced to one ? 
 
 The different answers to this question lead to the differ- 
 ent metaphysical standpoints which are designated by the 
 terms Dualism, Materialism, Spiritualism or Idealism. 
 
 Dualism is the name of the view which holds that there 
 are two heterogeneous kinds of reality, two kinds of sub- 
 stances — corporeal and mental, extended and thinking sub- 
 stances. This solution of the ontological problem has at 
 all times seemed most satisfactory to common-sense. 
 
 Philosophy always reveals a tendency to overcome 
 Dualism and to reach Monism. The reasons therefor are 
 obvious. The unity of reality is so great and absolute, 
 that it seems to repudiate the view which would regard it 
 as composed of two entirely heterogeneous elements. In 
 addition to this, thought tends to a simplification of reality. 
 To explain things means to reduce the manifold phenomena 
 to simple principles. 
 
 The desire for unity may be satisfied in two ways. 
 Either, we can explain the mental processes by the bodily 
 states, and say : Body and motion constitute reality as such ; 
 states of consciousness are mere phenomenal forms of pro- 
 cesses which are in themselves physical. This is Materi- 
 alism. Or, we can explain physical phenomena by states of 
 consciousness, and say : Mental processes constitute reality 
 
48 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 as such ; the physical world is a mere phenomenal form of 
 this true reality. This is Spiritualism or Idealism. 
 
 A fourth possibility remains. We can say that we are 
 by no means able to know the nature of reality as such. 
 The two forms, the corporeal and the spiritual, are our 
 first data. "We assume, however, that they are but differ- 
 ent manifestations of one unattainable reality. This view 
 might be called Agnostical Monism. 
 
 The second great problem of metaphysics is the cosmo- 
 logical or theological problem. It is expressed by the 
 question : What conception shall we form of the connection 
 between all things? What is the form of reality as a 
 whole ? Atomism, Theism, and Pantheism are different 
 answers to this question. 
 
 At first sight reality appears to be a plurality of inde- 
 pendent objects. Each of these, it is true, is related to 
 others, but each exists independently and by itself. This 
 view is consistently thought out in Atomism : Reality is an 
 aggregate of many independent, underived, and imperisha- 
 ble elements. By combining them in various ways we get, 
 as it were, objects of the second order, popularly called 
 things. Atomism or pluralism is not necessarily material, 
 istic ; in the monadology of Leibniz we have a spiritualistic 
 form of it. 
 
 Here, too, philosophy has at all times shown a tendency 
 to overcome plurality and to reach a unity. The unity and 
 harmony of the world appears to be so great that it cannot 
 be conceived as the result of an accidental confluence of 
 entirely heterogeneous elements. The monistic view of 
 the world exists in two forms. Either, it derives the unity 
 and harmony of things from the action of an architec- 
 tonic intelligence operating according to a uniform plan : 
 this gives us Theism. Or, it seeks a still more thorough- 
 going unity, and maintains : Reality is a single, unitary 
 being, a substance ; plurality is but the S3^stematic arrange- 
 ment of the parts of this unity : this gives us Pantheism. 
 Philosophy is led to this latter conception from two sides. 
 The notion of God leads theological speculation to it. If 
 God creates all things out of nothing, as monotheistic the- 
 ology claims, then he is in truth the sole being, and all 
 
THE NATURE AND IMPORT OF PHILOSOPHY. 49 
 
 objects are through him and in him ; they cannot exist 
 independently, outside of him or in opposition to him. 
 On the other hand, the concept of nature directs physical 
 speculation towards the same idea of the unity of essence. 
 If all things are universally and uniformly correlated, then 
 all processes are joined together into a single, comprehen- 
 sive process — the unitary structure of the world. This 
 gives us the notion of unity in all change, the notion of the 
 unity of substance. 
 
 The theory of knowledge leads to two ultimate prob- 
 lems — the problem of the nature and the problem of the 
 origin of knowledge. 
 
 The first problem is expressed in the question : What is 
 knowledge ? Different answers are given by Realism and 
 Idealism or Phenomenalism. Realism beholds in it an ade- 
 quate copy of reality ; in true knowledge objects appear as 
 they exist in reality, only they are not reality itself. Ideal- 
 ism regards this conception as impossible ; how can knowl- 
 edge be a copy and, as it were, a repetition of things? 
 Knowledge is an inner psychical process ; how could there 
 be similarity between it and external objects ? And even 
 if such similarity did exist, we could not know it ; we can- 
 not get outside of ourselves and compare our ideas with 
 the objects. 
 
 The second question is : How does knowledge arise ? 
 This question also gives rise to an antithesis that runs 
 through the entire history of philosophy — the antithesis 
 between Empiricism and Rationalism. Empiricism derives 
 all knowledge from perception : Experience is the sole 
 source of knowledge, and experience consists of the combi- 
 nation of percepts. Rationalism, on the other hand, as- 
 serts : All really scientific knowledge presupposes another 
 principle that cannot be derived from perception. Univer- 
 sality and necessity, to be found in the most absolute form 
 in mathematics, and aimed at by all sciences, can never 
 arise from experience, which reveals only what happens in 
 particular cases, not what happens universally. Real sci- 
 ence originates in the understanding, which forms concepts 
 and follows out their relations in conformity with the inner 
 uniformity peculiar to it. 
 
50 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The investigations of ethics culminate in an ultimate 
 question of principle: What is the final ground of all dis- 
 tinctions of worth, in particular of those between human 
 actions and dispositions? Two opposing views exist. The 
 one asserts : They are grounded on the effects which actions 
 have on life; that is good which produces favorable ef- 
 fects, that is bad which produces unfavorable results upon 
 the life of the individual and the society of which he is a 
 member. This is the ieleological view. The other, which 
 may be called the formalistic view (it is also designated 
 as the intuitionalistic in distinction from the utilitarian 
 view, the name given to teleological ethics in England), 
 holds : Good and bad are absolute qualities of modes of 
 conduct and dispositions of will, which can only be per- 
 ceived and recognized, but not derived and proved. If the 
 first opinion is correct, a new question arises : By what 
 content of life can we distinguish favorable from unfavora- 
 ble effects? What is the highest and final aim of human 
 activity ? If the answer is, Feelings of pleasure or happi- 
 ness, we have hedonism. If, however, the aim is sought in 
 an objective form and activity of life, we have a view for 
 which there is no traditional term. We might call to 
 mind the origin of this conception in Aristotelian philoso- 
 phy, and name it energism. The highest good consists in 
 the exercise of all virtues and capacities, especially the 
 highest. 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 THE PROBLEMS OF METAPHYSICS. 
 
Ich gebe aber etwas auf den ursprünglichen 
 Naturinstinkt des Menschen und glaube, dass 
 nichts wahr sein kann, was nicht auch gut ist 
 zu glauben, am wahrsten aber das, was am 
 besten. Freilich auch in dem, was man für 
 gut hält, kann man irren, aber einmal muss 
 doch ein Punkt kommen, wo der Mensch sich 
 selbst glaubt. 
 
 — Fechner, Zendavesta, Preface, xiv. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. 
 
 1. Historical Orientation. 
 
 Popular opinions form the starting-point of all philoso- 
 phizing. This is true of the development of thought in 
 the race as well as in the individual. It is proper that a 
 work aiming to introduce the reader to philosophy should 
 set out from these. 
 
 Common-sense takes note of the visible and tangible 
 objects around it, and gives the following answer to the 
 question concerning the nature of reality as such : The 
 corporeal world is the real world. This view is not neces- 
 sarily materialistic. Materialism is a product of scientific 
 reflection. In addition to bodies, common-sense recognizes 
 also a different reality, the soul. There is something in 
 living bodies which is not body, at least not real body. No 
 language, perhaps, exists that has not a word for what we 
 call soul, and that does not attribute reality and essentiality 
 to this soul. The origin of the idea of a soul as a separate 
 existence is, perhaps, to be sought in the following facts. 
 An important and striking difference appears in bodies, the 
 difference between living and lifeless bodies. The former 
 possess voluntary movement, while the latter have not the 
 power of motion; they require an impact from without. 
 The popular inference is that the ground for this difference 
 must lie in the fact that there is a something in the living 
 body that wills and moves, is sensible and feels : that is 
 the soul. 
 
 That this soul is a separate, independent essence, and 
 not a mere force or quality, is inferred from another 
 fact — one that exerts a profound influence on primitive 
 thought : the phenomenon of death. At death, the living 
 
 53 
 
54 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 body loses the property which distinguishes it from lifeless 
 bodies ; it becomes insensible and motionless. How does 
 this happen? What takes place in death? The body 
 remains what it was a moment ago ; externally it is undi- 
 minished and unchanged, only it has lost its power of 
 motion. The obvious conclusion, therefore, is that that 
 which moves it, the soul, must have left it. Hence, the 
 soul must be incorporeal, else we could see it depart ; and 
 it is an independent being. Its separation from the flesh 
 and continued existence prove this. For the experi- 
 ence of all peoples is at one in the belief that the soul 
 does not perish at death ; it can again appear and act. 
 Everywhere anthropology discovers ancestor-worship, a 
 sure sign of the belief in the existence and perpetuity of the 
 departed soul. No one troubles himself about what does 
 not exist. Moreover, the notion is also common to primi- 
 tive stages of civilization that the soul can temporarily 
 separate itself from the body even during life. The body 
 lies motionless in sleep, but the soul is not inactive ; it sees, 
 hears, feels, and at times experiences wonderful things. 
 It dreams, we say. Primitive thought, however, interprets 
 the fact differently : the soul leaves the body in sleep and 
 sets out on a journey of its own, hence it experiences those 
 very things which we call dreams. 
 
 The primitive conception of the nature of the soul is 
 about as follows : It is like the breath ; it is visible, but not 
 tangible, having the form of the body, like the real sub- 
 stantial shadow of the body. The connection between life 
 and breath is evidently the reason why so many languages 
 designate the soul as a breath i^pvxVi animus). It might 
 be defined as a substantial image, or the existent vision of 
 the body, without corporeality, impenetrability, and weight. 
 Thus Homer describes the departed souls or spirits ; so 
 the mediaeval painter portrays them ; and the superstitious 
 believer in ghosts imagines them in the same way. At the 
 same time these spirits have power to haunt as well as 
 recollection and feeling, though in a changed and weakened 
 form. 
 
 If we wish to refer the ontological view of popular 
 thought to a class, we shall have to call it Vague Dualism* 
 
Chap. I.] HISTORICAL ORIENTATION. 55 
 
 Bodies constitute the real reality, but alongside of them 
 there exists a reality of the second order, bodily beings 
 without real corporeality, that are both active in the bodies 
 as efficient forces, and also exist for themselves as departed 
 spirits. 
 
 The philosophical conception of reality is, as was men- 
 tioned before, characterized by the tendency to Monism. 
 It is the fundamental impulse of philosophic thought to 
 derive reality from one principle, to reduce the different 
 forms of being to one original form. Two kinds of onto- 
 logical monism result, according as we proceed from the 
 facts of the external, visible world, or from those of the inner 
 world ; namely, Materialism and Spiritualism. The former 
 asserts : Bodies and movements constitute the original form 
 of reality ; these also explain the facts of perception, think- 
 ing, and willing. Spiritualism or Idealism, on the other hand, 
 asserts : The facts of inner life as presented in self-con- 
 sciousness are the first and only reality ; thoughts cannot be 
 conceived as products of matter, while matter may be con- 
 ceived as the product of thought ; the corporeal world is 
 phenomenal. 
 
 We meet these two ontological theories at the outset of 
 Greek philosophy in two forcible and bold thinkers, Democ- 
 ritus and Plato. The former reduces all reality to atoms 
 and the void. Minute, indivisible, but extended bodies 
 constitute the original elements of reality ; by means of 
 their motion all natural occurrences may be explained, the 
 heavenly as well as earthly processes, and among the latter 
 also the manifestations of life, including perception and 
 thinking. Plato, on the other hand, was the first European 
 philosopher who had the courage to think out the following 
 thought logically : Bodies are not only not the true reality, 
 they are not real at all, not in themselves real ; they are 
 manifestations of something else. Reality as such is spirit- 
 ual in its nature ; the world as such is a system of real 
 thoughts (ideas). Mind apprehends this true reality in con- 
 ceptual thinking, whereas sensuous presentation cleaves to 
 the copies of the ideal world, to the corporeal objects or 
 phenomena which are not realities, but which originate and 
 decay and are scattered through space. 
 
56 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 Aristotle again comes nearer to the popular view. In 
 his discussion of philosophical problems, he often begins 
 with the conceptions of popular language, and is prone to 
 return to them in his conclusions. He dislikes the abrupt 
 and one-sided conceptions of the great seclusive thinkers. 
 His philosophy has the strong and weak sides of a philos- 
 ophy of mediation. His ontology is a dualism that inclines 
 to idealism. At the beginning of the second book of his 
 work on the soul, he defines the essence of the soul : it is the 
 form of an organic body. The definition reminds one of the 
 popular notion. It has a deeper meaning, it is true ; the 
 soul is not a shadowy outline of the body, not the external, 
 stereometric, but the inner, functional form, the operative 
 and formative life-principle. All that distinguishes a living 
 organism from a lifeless body is activit}^ of soul : develop- 
 ment, metabolism, spontaneous movement, sensation, desire, 
 thinking, and rational volition. The functions of an organic 
 body cannot be derived from the particles of matter com- 
 posing it ; they are the activities of a special principle of 
 life, and that is the soul. This makes the body what it is. 
 Matter furnishes only the potentiality of life, as wood fur- 
 nishes the potentiality of the bow ; marble, of a statue. But 
 form alone fashions the real statue out of the possible one. 
 In the same way, the soul makes the living body out of 
 organic matter. It is evident, form is the essential, matter 
 the accidental and secondary element of these two prin- 
 ciples; the former is the real essence of the object, the 
 latter the medium. Matter as such is the entirely indeter- 
 minate and intangible potentiality ; it is through form alone 
 that it becomes a determinate, formed, tangible reality. 
 And in the mind of God, who is not potentiality but pure 
 form or pure thought, matter finally disappears alto- 
 gether. It may be said, however, that Aristotle does not 
 develop the logical consequences of this latter idea as 
 Plato did. There is no system of philosophy that ap- 
 proaches the popular conception of things more nearly 
 than this explanation, which is based on the principles of 
 form and matter, force and potentiality. The abruptness 
 of Platonic idealism has been weakened in it so as to make 
 it acceptable to common-sense. We may assume that this 
 
€hap. I.] HISTORICAL ORIENTATION. 57 
 
 change made it available as a scholastic system for so many 
 centuries. 
 
 Modern philosophy follows the paths which the great 
 Greek thinkers have marked out : dualism, materialism, 
 and spiritualism are the recurring fundamental forms. 
 
 It begins in Descartes with the most logical expression 
 of dualism. Body and soul are two wholly non-compa- 
 rable forms of reality. Body is a being whose only attri- 
 bute is extension., soul a being whose only attribute is 
 thinking or consciousness. Corpus =res extensa, mens = res 
 cogitans ; these are the two great definitions underlying the 
 entire Cartesian philosophy. 
 
 The new definition of body is the older one of the two. 
 A new principle was introduced into natural science by 
 Galileo : Motion neither originates nor is lost. Just as a 
 body at rest remains at rest unless acted on from without, 
 so a body in motion continues that motion ad infinitum in the 
 same direction and with the same velocity. It is true, the 
 Aristotelian-scholastic philosophy of the middle ages did not 
 assume the origin and decay of bodies themselves in the 
 natural course of things. But it did not deny the disappear- 
 ance of motion any more than common-sense does. Why 
 should it ? Is it not a matter of the most common experi- 
 ence ? In like manner, then, why should not movement that 
 did not exist before be originated, say, by the activity of the 
 soul ? Descartes appropriates the modern Galilean concep- 
 tion. The quantity of motion, he claims, is constant in the 
 world ; it can neither be increased nor diminished. Motion 
 is simply transmitted through contact, i.e., by pressure and 
 impact. This gives the axiom : All natural states are with- 
 out exception to be explained by pressure and impact, also 
 the vital processes in the organic body ; philosophy is the 
 mechanics of vital processes. The corresponding negative 
 formula is : The soul is no natural-scientific principle of 
 explanation. The physicist as such knows nothing of its 
 existence ; he becomes untrue to his science when he fol- 
 lows the example of the schools and derives nutrition, 
 growth, and organic movement from it. 
 
 A purely spiritualistic psychology is the reverse of me- 
 chanical physics and physiology. If states of bodily life 
 
58 TEE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 cannot be explained by means of the activity of the soul, 
 then, of course, the explanation of thought from physical 
 processes is equally impossible. Motion produces motion, 
 but it can never produce a state of consciousness, other- 
 wise it would disappear in this state, that is, cease to exist 
 physically. This contradicts the first axiom of physics. 
 However, since the reality of thought cannot be doubted, 
 for it is the most certain fact of existence, it is necessary 
 to assume a separate principle entirely different from 
 body, that is, mind {mens). Thus modern philosophy, pro- 
 ceeding from mechanical physics, begins with the most 
 thorough-going dualism. It is true, in this it was preceded 
 by scholasticism, whose presuppositions were different, but 
 which assumed the existence of purely spiritual substances. 
 Dualism, however, is not the last word of modern phi- 
 losophy. Nay, dualism logically carried out naturally 
 reduces itself to monism. We can tell the exact point at 
 which dualism changes into monism. It is the question 
 concerning the correlation of the two kinds of reality. The 
 fact remains that regular relations exist between bodily 
 and mental states. Feelings and volitions correspond to 
 voluntary movements ; sensations and perceptions corre- 
 spond to the excitations of the sense-organs. How is this 
 relation to be conceived if, according to the principles of 
 the new mechanical physics, it can no longer be thought 
 as reciprocal action ? Spinoza answers : We must deter- 
 mine it as identity. Body and soul are not absolutely 
 different ; they are really the same thing, looked at from 
 different points of view. A state of movement and a state 
 of consciousness are at bottom the same process, seen at 
 one time from without, at another from within. This 
 relation runs through the whole of existence. Reality, 
 which forms one single, unitary being, one substance, be it 
 called nature or God, unfolds its essential content in two 
 forms — in the form of a corporeal world (sub attribute* exten- 
 sions), and in the form of a world of consciousness (sub 
 attribute* cogitationis). This explains the fact of a regular 
 relation without interaction. A parallelism of such a nature 
 exists between the physical and the psychical worlds that 
 every state or process (modus) occurs in both : what occurs 
 
Chap. I.] HISTORICAL ORIENTATION. 59 
 
 in the corporeal world as movement {modus extensionis) 
 appears in the world of consciousness as sensation or 
 idea (idea, modus cogitationis). Interaction is out of the 
 question : the two kinds of processes exist alongside of 
 each other, not through each other. Each of the two 
 worlds, the physical and the psychical, forms a closed 
 causal system. And this parallelism is a universal one : 
 there is absolutely no state of consciousness that has not its 
 corresponding state of movement, and, conversely, there 
 is absolutely no state of movement in nature that has not 
 its corresponding state of consciousness. All things, as 
 Spinoza once expressed this logical conclusion, are animate : 
 omnia quamvis diver sis gradihus animata. The correspond- 
 ing converse reads : All souls are incorporated. 
 
 The metaphysical system which Spinoza outlined in 
 the few brief propositions of his Ethics might seem to one 
 surveying the development of modern thought as a whole, 
 as the accomplished solution of the problem. More and 
 more does modern thought gravitate towards this view, 
 most perceptibly in philosophy. Of late, however, the 
 physiologists and biologists also approach it, sometimes, 
 indeed, without clearly seeing its consequences. 
 
 We shall discuss this fact more at length in what fol- 
 lows. In the present connection I should simply like to 
 call attention to one thing: Such a parallelistic monism 
 may be turned in two directions, in the direction of 
 materialism and in that of idealism. Natural scientists, who 
 busy themselves with the corporeal world, are inclined to 
 pursue the former path. Hobbes may be regarded as their 
 philosophical leader. Philosophers prefer to interpret this 
 notion in an idealistic sense. Leibniz follows this course. 
 Certainly, he says, extension and consciousness are the two 
 great forms of existence, but they are not equal expressions 
 of the essence of reality ; the mental world defines the 
 true nature of reality more adequately. The ultimate ele- 
 ments of reality, the monads, are, taken by themselves, 
 beings of spiritual nature ; desire and sensation are their 
 original determinations ; extension is a secondary and acci- 
 dental quality, a manifestation rather than a true mode of 
 being of reality. 
 
60 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 Epistemological reflections at the same time lea Berkeley 
 in the same direction. The nature of body may be resolved 
 into elements of perception. This view is gaining more and 
 more adherents as epistemology grows in importance. It 
 has been at the very foundation of German philosophy 
 since Kant forced upon the latter the critical reflection on 
 the nature of knowledge : the corporeal world is the mani- 
 festation of the same reality which reveals its real nature 
 in the mental world. Thinkers so opposed, nay, even so 
 hostile to each other as Hegel, Schopenhauer, and Beneke 
 agree in this. We might perhaps designate this meta- 
 physical conception, which has since prevailed in philoso- 
 phy, as a parallelistic monism in an idealistic key. In 
 addition to it, we have also, it is true, especially in natural- 
 scientific circles, monism in a materialistic key. The pure 
 epistemologist prefers to remain on the standpoint beyond 
 which Kant himself would not go : the corporeal world and 
 the mental world are different manifestations of reality as 
 such, which we cannot know, but may assume as a homo- 
 geneous unity. This would be the standpoint of agnostical 
 monism, which Herbert Spencer occupies. 
 
 So much for the historical orientation. We now enter 
 upon the real consideration of the problem. I shall begin 
 with an exposition and critique of the materialistic view 
 which poses as the real scientific conception, and proclaims 
 itself as the result of the natural-scientific investigation of 
 modern times. 
 
 2. Materialism and its Arguments.* 
 
 We designate that ontological theory as materialism 
 which answers the question relating to the nature of 
 reality as follows : Beality as such is body ; its attributes 
 are extension and impenetrability ; its primary and essen- 
 
 * The excellent work of F. A. Lange, Geschichte des Materialismus und 
 Kritik seiner Bedeutung in der Gegenwart, 2 vols., 3d ed., 1877 (English, 
 translation by E. C. Thomas, 1892). The reader will find in this work a 
 most careful historical exposition of the nature of materialism and the 
 conditions of its development in the history of civilization. Its relations to 
 the natural sciences, to theology and to the church, as well as to society and 
 its aims, are set forth in all their bearings. A biography of this excellent 
 man has recently been published (1891) by O. A. Ellisen. 
 
Chap. I.] MATERIALISM AND ITS ARGUMENTS. 61 
 
 tial form of activity is motion. These principles can and 
 must explain all processes in reality, in particular also the 
 so-called states of consciousness. 
 
 The latter point, the reduction of psychical states to 
 physical states, forms the real thesis of materialism. The 
 arguments in its behalf are about as follows : 
 
 Experience discloses the fact that psychical processes 
 occur only in most intimate connection with physical pro- 
 cesses. As far as we can know, only organic, or rather only 
 animal bodies are possessed of conscious states, and these 
 appear to be connected particularly with the action of the 
 nervous system. Hence it follows that science must seek 
 the cause of the former states in the peculiar quality of 
 these bodies. Psychical processes are to be regarded as 
 functions of the nervous system. 
 
 Common-sense drew a different conclusion from the 
 same fact ; it inferred, as was shown in the preceding 
 chapter, that animals possess a special something, a force 
 or an essence that effects these processes. That is the 
 answer, says the materialistic philosopher, upon which 
 pre-scientiflc thought universally hits. Wherever it per- 
 ceives a group of characteristic phenomena, it assumes for 
 their explanation a special power or an essence. Thus 
 primitive thought refers the phenomenon of the thunder- 
 storm to a god of thunder, who has his seat in heaven, the 
 phenomenon of disease to powers of disease. — Like primitive 
 thought, a natural philosophy that was long prevalent ex- 
 plained the rise of water in the pump by the notion of the 
 horror vacui, the processes of organic life by a special vital 
 force. And after the same scheme, the states of conscious- 
 ness are explained as manifestations of a separate principle, 
 the soul. Of course, this does not help us in the least ; 
 soul is nething but a vis occulta, a force or essence assumed 
 ad hoc, but otherwise unknown, like the horror vacui. To ex- 
 plain thought by means of a soul is just like the explana- 
 tion which the learned doctors of the school in Moliere's 
 play give for the fact that opium puts one to sleep : it has 
 dormative powers. 
 
 Science, materialism continues, differs from the pre- 
 scientific mode of thought in this, that it explains phe- 
 
62 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 nomena, not by means of essences and powers, but by 
 means of other antecedent and simultaneous phenomena. 
 Explanation in natural science means to state the law ac- 
 cording to which a given phenomenon is connected with 
 other phenomena, so that the entrance of the one may be 
 foreseen from the appearance of the others. Thus scien- 
 tific meteorology explains the thunder-storm by inserting 
 this phenomenon into a larger group of homogeneous phe- 
 nomena. In other words, it recognizes lightning as an 
 electric spark, and then searches after the conditions of its 
 origin, i.e., the processes which precede and accompany 
 electrical expansion and discharge in the atmosphere. 
 
 Science has the same task to perform in relation to 
 states of consciousness. It has to seek their uniform ante- 
 cedent and concomitant phenomena in order thus to de- 
 termine the lawful relation of these phenomena. The 
 antecedent and concomitant phenomena, are, as experience 
 shows, physiological processes in the brain and nervous 
 system. Accordingly, it is the business of science to sub- 
 stitute for the pseudo-science " psychology " and its pre- 
 scientific principles, " soul " and " psychic forces," the 
 natural-scientific explanation. Scientific psychology is 
 physiology. 
 
 This gives us the formal principle. As regards the 
 matter itself we may go further and say : The so-called 
 states of consciousness, proclaimed as peculiar and un- 
 paralleled states, are in reality nothing of the kind. Science 
 can see in them only peculiarly modified movements ; psy- 
 chical states as such, regarded objectively, are nothing 
 but physiological processes. 
 
 This fact may be proved logically as follows. The 
 highest principle of all modern natural science is the prin- 
 ciple of the conservation of energy : The sum of real motion 
 and of motive force is constant. Motion is transferred and 
 transformed, mass-motion is turned into molecular motion, 
 active energy is transformed into potential energy, but it 
 is preserved without loss and may be recovered from it. 
 Now we have the following two cases. Movements are 
 introduced into the nervous system from without ; air-waves 
 proceeding from a soundiug-bell strike the auditory nerve 
 
Chap. I.] MATERIALISM AND ITS ARGUMENTS. 63 
 
 and arouse a physiological process in it that may be 
 shown to be carried to the central organ by means of the 
 nerve-fibres. We are not able as yet to pursue this pro- 
 cess to its end, but we may assume that it does not alto- 
 gether vanish. Simultaneously, as we know from another 
 source, a sensation occurs : a sound is heard. We con- 
 clude : The sensation is nothing but the nervous process 
 produced in the central organ by the peripheral excitation. 
 
 The reverse of this also happens. I stretch out my 
 hand and grasp an object. Physiology explains the pro- 
 cess : A contraction of muscular fibres is the immediate 
 cause of articular movements ; the contraction itself is due 
 to an impulse conducted by the fibres of the motor nerves, 
 which we can trace back into the central organ. At that 
 point the impulse cannot as yet be physiologically ex- 
 plained. However, here too it happens that simultaneously 
 in another quarter a psychical process, an excitation of the 
 will accompanied by feelings and ideas, is observed. We 
 conclude : The psychical process is in itself a physical pro- 
 cess, namely, the same which must be presupposed as the 
 cause of the innervation of motor nerve-fibres. For natural 
 science must insist positively that a physical effect must 
 have a physical cause. Should we grant that a mere in- 
 tention as such, a mere conscious state, can cause a 
 movement, we should thereby surrender the fundamental 
 principle of natural science. Then there is no telling what 
 would happen. If a mere thought can move a brain-mole- 
 cule, it can just as easily transpose mountains or turn the 
 moon from its path ; the one thing is just as intelligible or 
 unintelligible as the other. 
 
 This argument, which, as was seen, depends on the pre- 
 supposition that the so-called states of consciousness are 
 inserted into the physical chain of organic life, may be 
 strengthened and made more plausible by biological and 
 cosmological considerations. 
 
 Reference is made to the facts of comparative anat- 
 omy. They disclose a thorough-going parallelism be- 
 tween the development of the nervous system and soul-life. 
 Brain and intelligence show a corresponding increase in 
 their growth throughout the advancing stages of animal 
 
64 THE ONTOLOOIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 life. Man heads the animal kingdom in intelligence as 
 well as in the size and internal development of his brain, 
 especially of the cerebrum. Although the weight of his 
 brain is not absolutely the greatest, the brain of the ele- 
 phant, for example, being three times heavier than his own, 
 still it is greater in proportion to his body. The weight of 
 his brain amounts to about one fortieth of his total weight, 
 while in the case of the elephant the brain-weight does not 
 come within one five-hundredth of the whole weight. It is 
 true, there are birds whose relative brain-weight even sur- 
 passes that of man, but these are evidently exceptional 
 cases, to be explained by the abnormal lightness of the 
 bird's body. And it is an unquestionable fact that the 
 human brain far excels all animal brains in the size and 
 internal development of the cerebrum, the real organ of 
 intelligence. 
 
 The same parallelism recurs in the human race. The 
 development of the brain and the civilization of the races 
 run parallel. And we may infer from the numerous meas- 
 urements of the cranial capacity of great men that even 
 within the confines of a single race a brain-development 
 surpassing the average corresponds to superior mental 
 endowment, whereas idiocy and microcephalism or arrested 
 growth go together. Hence, all these facts seem to say : 
 The soul is the brain.* 
 
 The same intimate connection between brain and mind 
 is disclosed by physiological and pathological experiments 
 and observations. Every disturbance or injury in the 
 brain produces disturbances in mental life. If layers of 
 the animal brain are removed, or certain parts destroyed, 
 certain psychical functions will disappear. Accidental in- 
 juries will cause the same effects in man. In all works on 
 psychiatry numerous observations are to be found on 
 psychical disturbances due to external injuries of the brain. 
 When a fragment of bone penetrates the brain, the psychi- 
 cal effect is not only a disturbance of the intellectual activity, 
 but also a complete change of character. The patient 
 becomes suspicious, reserved, obstinate. The removal of 
 
 * A brief collection of the most important data of physical anthropology- 
 will be found in the second chapter of 0. Peschel's excellent Völkerkunde. 
 
Chap. I.] MATERIALISM AND ITS AEG UMENTS. 65 
 
 the fragment of bone is followed by the disappearance of 
 the psychical change. So in old age diminution of mental 
 activity invariably takes place, often to the extent of loss 
 of judgment (dementia senilis). The anatomical examination 
 reveals that waste and degeneration of brain-matter is the 
 cause. Every mental disease, that is the conviction of 
 modern psychiatry trained in natural- scientific methods, is 
 brain-disease, whether the latter can be disclosed by the 
 anatomical investigation or not. Therefore, the brain is the 
 soul. 
 
 The cosmological reflection leads to the same view. There 
 was a time, modern cosmology teaches, when no organic 
 life existed on the earth, hence no psychical life, no so- 
 called states of consciousness. Yes, there was a time when 
 there was no earth. What we now call our planetary sys- 
 tem was in primordial times an immense gaseous or nebu- 
 lous mass. By rotating around its axis this mass formed a 
 swelling at the equator. In consequence of the continued 
 shrinking of the mass, the latter became separated from the 
 central body as a ring suspended in mid-air, and this de- 
 veloped into an independent body by disruption. This 
 process was repeated and thus arose the system of the 
 planets revolving around the sun as the central body. The 
 earth is one of these planets. Originally a fiery, liquid 
 drop of cosmic matter, it gradually cooled off until a hard 
 crust was formed, and the aqueous vapor was condensed 
 into water. Not until then could organic life arise. Life 
 first appeared in the most primitive form in minute pro- 
 toplasmic particles. These gradually assumed an inner 
 structure; cells arose having a sac and nucleus, and the 
 ability to propagate by means of fission and to develop into 
 a complicated system. Together with the progressive dif- 
 ferentiation of the parts and their transformation into 
 heterogeneous organs, the external differentiation, the 
 growth of manifold forms of life, also took place. Finally, 
 man was evolved from one branch of the ramified animal 
 kingdom. He acquired an ever-increasing supremacy over 
 the other members, so that when he began to reflect 
 on his descent, a relation with the lower world seemed 
 utterly incredible to him, and he invented a more distin- 
 
66 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 guislied origin for himself. Natural science has destroyed 
 this dream ; it shows that he did not enter in perfect form 
 into a completed world awaiting his coming, as a son of the 
 gods, but that as a child of the dust he strove upwards, pain- 
 fully struggling for existence with brothers of equal rank. 
 Countless generations, of which no history tells, have passed 
 away, until at last, in the struggle for existence, his entire 
 organization, and in particular his brain, has developed so 
 far as to enable him to become the exponent of historico- 
 mental life. 
 
 Such was the past of mind on earth, the only mind of 
 which we know. And its future ? 
 
 Cosmic physics, it is said, does not leave us in doubt. 
 Life and mind have had a beginning ; they will also come 
 to an end. The time will come when the sun will no 
 longer shine from the heavens. The amount of heat which 
 it has is not infinitely great. Inasmuch as its heat is con- 
 stantly expended without being replaced, it must finally 
 be exhausted. Long before this will have happened, the 
 earth will be congealed. The sun's heat is the source of 
 all movement and life on its surface. A comparatively 
 small diminution of the supply is sufficient to destroy or- 
 ganic life ; ultimately the whole earth will congeal into a 
 motionless, rigid mass. 
 
 Such reflections are well adapted to give one an over- 
 powering impression of the littleness and insignificance of 
 life. As a loaf of bread is covered with a coating of mil- 
 dew, with a world of living plants, so too the earth is at 
 any given moment of its long development covered over 
 with a world of living organisms; and among them man 
 appears as a variation of these forms. After a brief bloom, 
 this world sinks back again into the nothingness from 
 which it came. One thing alone remains : eternal matter 
 and the laws of its motion. Between the infinite past when 
 there was no life and the infinite future in which there will 
 be no life, the moment of the present and of life emerges — 
 a moment only, though we measure it by millions of years ; 
 and at this moment a small portion of infinite matter re- 
 veals that wonderful phenomenon of phosphorescence, as 
 it were, which we call self-consciousness or mental life — a 
 
Chap. I.] CONSEQUENCES OF MATERIALISM. 67 
 
 brief interlude which, however great and important it may 
 seem to us, is none the less an altogether insignificant ac- 
 cident in the history of the immense universe. Matter and 
 motion are the realities, and the strange guise in which 
 motion for a moment appears is as nothing to the universe 
 — " the brief play of a day-fly floating above the ocean of 
 eternity and infinity." * 
 
 3. The Practical Consequences of Materialism. 
 
 I shall preface the examination of the theoretical value 
 of the view just presented with a few general remarks. 
 
 * Ludwig Büchner Kraft und Stoff, 16th ed. (1888) p. 239 (tr. by Colling- 
 wood, 4th ed., 1884). This work may still be viewed as the typical expo- 
 sition of the materialistic view of the world in our popular philosophy, al- 
 though the author himself repudiates the designation of his standpoint as 
 materialism. Not unjustly ; for his fundamental notions are so indefinite 
 and at variance that they might be brought almost under any metaphysical 
 category. The only points which stand out in relief are these : Neither 
 God nor ends exist in nature, nor is there a special soul- substance with im- 
 mortality and freedom. One may regard the book of little worth philosophi- 
 cally considered ; one may regard its manner of treatment and its style as 
 unsatisfactory; yet the fact remains that since 1855 it has been bought and 
 read by the German public in sixteen editions, that it has also been trans- 
 lated into thirteen languages, in which again it has been bought and 
 read in numerous editions. It can therefore undoubtedly lay claim to being 
 a characteristic phenomenon of the second hal f of our century, for a time is 
 characterized more by the books which it reads than by those it writes. In 
 its youth the book circulated particularly among the educated middle 
 classes who were at outs with the church and its creed ; it has long since 
 penetrated into the lower strata of society ; it is now the working tool of 
 the social-democratic itinerant agitator. In answer to the question, To 
 what merits does the book owe its wide circulation and influence ? we may 
 emphasize two points: First, it offers a mass of scientific knowledge stated 
 in popular form ; secondly, it shows contempt for the church, theology, and 
 the creed. For the former the reader is justly thankful, while the latter 
 gains for the author confidence and sympathy : he appears as the protagon- 
 ist of honest men in the righteous struggle against falsehood, obscurantism, 
 narrowness, and injustice. This is a fact highly suggestive to everybody, 
 whatever be his attitude to the church and religion. A more recent and 
 equally successful book — Max Nordau, Die konventionellen Lügen der Kul- 
 turmenschheit (13th ed., 1889) — is likewise suited to arouse reflection. This 
 book is conspicuous neither for its contents nor form ; it contains nothing 
 but the assurance repeated a hundred times that our whole life and thought 
 is a lie. But this very circumstance will puzzle a future age more fortunate 
 than our own, let us hope ; for what made the work so attractive ? will be 
 asked. Did it really express the se'lf-consciousness of its age ? 
 
68 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 First, a word concerning the tendency of materialism to 
 depreciate the spiritual, and to regard it with a certain con- 
 tempt as an unimportant and unessential secondary effect 
 of nature. 
 
 I believe that how r ever great or small the part may be 
 which so-called mind plays in the world, it is at all events 
 the only thing of immediate worth and significance to us. 
 Were it absent, the world would become meaningless and 
 indifferent to us. Let us imagine a world without life 
 and soul, without sensation and thought, without mind 
 and history, a world of which nothing could be said except 
 what astronomy and physics know of it. And now sup- 
 pose a man should enter it, knowing nothing, but endowed 
 with a perfect understanding, and suppose a most learned 
 astronomer should accost him and begin to explain every- 
 thing to him, the particular planets, their mass and their 
 motion, giving him a detailed account of their physical 
 and meteorological occurrences. He would, perhaps, listen 
 for a while with interest. If, however, the astronomer 
 should go on taking up new world-systems and explaining 
 them in the same manner, the listener would at last be- 
 come impatient and ask : Well, then, what is the use of 
 it all ? What does it mean ? And if he should receive 
 the answer : Nothing ; all this constitutes reality, and be- 
 yond that nothing can be said of it ; he would turn away 
 perplexed and disappointed, and say : Well, if that is really 
 all that can be said of the world, I have learned enough 
 and will trouble you no further. Nor would a materialistic 
 philosopher behave differently. He, too, is ultimately 
 interested, at least practically interested, in the fact that 
 brain-phenomena and their subjective reflexes are found in 
 the world, and form the wonderful process which we call 
 historical life. At least in practice ; for he, too, practically 
 considers all things as instruments and means of expression 
 of mind ; for him, too, body is the organ and symbol of the 
 soul ; all of his interests are centred in the mental and his- 
 torical sphere. But he has also a purely theoretical interest 
 in mind as the centre of all things, even though he demon- 
 strates that the presence of spirit is an insignificant datum in 
 the cosmic evolution. If this datum were absent, the planets 
 
Chap. I.] CONSEQUENCES OF MATERIALISM. 69 
 
 would have no more meaning for him than the grains of 
 sand which are the sport of the winds and waves on the 
 ocean's shore. 
 
 That mind is to mind the object of greatest interest in 
 the world is clearly shown by the division of scientific labor 
 into the two spheres of reality, nature and history. If we 
 were to banish from our libraries everything that pertains 
 to the mental life of man, everything that belongs to 
 history and philology, politics and morals, theology and 
 philosophy, sociology and jurisprudence, medicine and 
 technics, we should have left a very modest remainder. 
 Or, suppose we should strike out of our large voluminous 
 encyclopedias and lexica the same subjects, retaining only 
 what pertains to astronomy and physics, chemistry and 
 mineralogy ; the remainder would fill a small thin volume. 
 And this will most likely always be the case. The human 
 mind will ever regard the human mind as the most impor- 
 tant object of reality. 
 
 My second remark will consider the question concern- 
 ing the consequences of materialism for morality and mode 
 of life. The view is widely circulated that materialism- 
 has consequences dangerous to morality. In destroying 
 religion, it is held, it also destroys morality and faith in 
 ideals ; its practical conclusion is : Virtue is an empty 
 dream, conscience a freak, and the moral law the invention 
 of priests ; true wisdom consists in enjoying life and getting 
 what we can get. 
 
 I do not believe that this view can be accepted, at least 
 not in the form in which it is stated. A man's conduct is 
 not determined by his metaphysical ideas concerning the 
 nature of reality, but essentially by natural impulses, tem- 
 perament, education, and condition in life. If, however, 
 there is any connection between theoretical and what is 
 called practical materialism, it is brought about, not be- 
 cause a man's metaphysics determines his life, but because 
 his life determines his metaphysics. An empty and low 
 life has the immediate tendency to produce a nihilistic 
 conception of life; its features are a low estimate of life 
 and its destiny, a depreciation and scorn of the nobler 
 phases of man's nature, a loss of reverence for moral and 
 
70 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 spiritual greatness, disbelief and derision as regards all ideal 
 aspirations. And such a nihilistic view of life naturally 
 tends to a materialistic philosophy. It will welcome the 
 " results of science " that nature as well as history is the 
 play of meaningless chance, that blind forces combine 
 atoms and carelessly scatter them again at the next instant. 
 Conversely, an active and honorable, a good and great life 
 naturally tends to an idealistic metaphysics ; it is exalted 
 and pacified by a view that represents its highest aims and 
 ideals as the underlying forces of reality. From the striv- 
 ing after great ends grows the belief in the supremacy of 
 ideas, in the governance of Providence in the historical 
 life of man, and this belief finds a theoretical basis in the 
 thought that reality as a whole is founded on ideas, that the 
 world is the work of God. 
 
 These tendencies are not always victorious. There are 
 plenty of righteous men who accept a materialistic meta- 
 physics, and there are, on the other hand, men who hold 
 an idealistic-philosophical or ecclesiastical creed, not only 
 of words but of reason as well, and yet are guided by low 
 sensuous-egoistic motives in their mode of life. Still, the 
 fact remains that a man's mode of life generally has a 
 tendency to gather around it great ideas, as was indicated 
 above. As far as he is able, every man seeks to interpret 
 the meaning and import of life and reality according to the 
 deepest experiences of his individual life. 
 
 To be sure, a man's view of life also reacts on his view 
 of the world. The will becomes surer of itself by creating 
 a world of ideas in accord with it. And above all, a great 
 and sudden change in one's ideas may exert a considerable 
 influence on one's mode of life. A young man, impressed 
 with the teachings of the church at home and at school, 
 enters into new surroundings. In the factory, in business, 
 at college or in the university, he comes in contact with 
 enlightened comrades, he becomes acquainted with the pop- 
 ular scientific literature in which nature and history are 
 treated from the standpoint of opposition against supersti- 
 tion and priestly dominion. And now the scales fall from 
 his eyes. Why, all that they have crammed into my 
 Brain in childhood is fraud ! The world is eternal : man is 
 
Chap I.J CONSEQUENCES OF MATERIALISM. 71 
 
 but a highly-developed animal species ; moral laws and the 
 hereafter are inventions of priests to scare the stupid. 
 Such a revolution in the world of ideas cannot but react on 
 life. The newly-eulightened youth will continue to phi- 
 losophize : Since there is no God and no hereafter, I can 
 do as I please ; whatever pleases me is permissible. Why, 
 the very persons who insist so strongly that " the masses " 
 keep their religion do not act otherwise in their private 
 lives. And now he begins, at first not without inner strug- 
 gles, to do what was prohibited by religion and morals. 
 The violation of inherited morality and the contempt for 
 conscience become for him the proud signs of freedom and 
 enlightenment. 
 
 That this actually happens cannot be doubted. It is 
 repeated around us a thousand times a day. Perhaps 
 there are few men in our time who have been spared such 
 a line of reasoning. But, it is to be added, that does not 
 make the reasoning true. The rejection of the moral law 
 is not the logical consequence of a materialistic theory of 
 reality, but rather the result of & false notion of the nature of 
 morality — the notion, namely, for which our system of edu- 
 cation is partly responsible, that morality is nothing but a 
 collection of arbitrary commands and prohibitions, imposed 
 upon us by a supramundane arbitrary ruler. Where such 
 a notion prevails, the renunciation of the belief in the exist- 
 ence of this arbitrary ruler is, of course, accompanied by the 
 repudiation of his alleged commands. But this notion is 
 false. The moral law is not foreign to our nature ; it was 
 not imposed upon us by a despot, as the Continental em- 
 bargo was imposed upon European nations at the begin- 
 ning of this century, hindering the approach to a thousand 
 goods and pleasures. It is rather the law of our own 
 being. Moral laws are natural laws. We may assign to 
 them a transcendental significance or not ; they are, first of 
 all and at all events, natural laws of human life in the sense 
 of being the conditions of its health and welfare. Accord 
 ing to the natural course of events, their transgression will 
 bring upon nations as well as upon individuals misfortune 
 and destruction, while their observance is accompanied by 
 welfare and peace. 
 
72 THE ONTOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 There is nothing in the metaphysical concepts of ma- 
 terialism to contradict this statement. Experience, which 
 acquaints us with other natural laws, acquaints us also with 
 these. Whoever disregards the laws of statics will see 
 his structure fall to ruin, he may think of these laws 
 what he will. Whoever transgresses the laws of medicinal 
 dietetics will pay the penalty with indisposition and dis- 
 ease, whether he believes in the validity of these laws or 
 not. Similarity, whoever violates the laws of morality will 
 pay for it with his own life's happiness, regardless of what 
 he may think of them. Whoever disregards the duties 
 which he owes himself, whoever abandons himself to in- 
 temperance and dissipation, destroys the fundamental con- 
 ditions of his own welfare. Whoever surrenders himself to 
 idleness and love of pleasure, expecting in this way to find 
 his happiness, will ultimately perish in satiety and dis- 
 gust ; that is a biological law of human nature as well as 
 the other law that successful activity is followed by pleas- 
 ure, and that capacities grow through exercise. Finally, 
 whoever disobeys the commands of social morality dis- 
 turbs the life of others, and suffers for it himself as a social 
 being. Whoever treats his surroundings inconsiderately, 
 haughtily, and meanly, arouses aversion and hatred and 
 the behavior corresponding to these feelings, his views con- 
 cerning the nature of moral laws to the contrary notwith- 
 standing. No one exists, however, to whom these things 
 are altogether indifferent ; there is not a man in the world 
 who can do without the love and the confidence of his fel- 
 lows, to whom distrust and hatred are not painful in them- 
 selves and destructive in their consequences. And even if 
 any one should succeed in perpetrating wrong and base- 
 ness, undiscovered and with impunity, he could not escape 
 the reaction : the fear of discovery would remain. For it is 
 a strange fact that the man who has something to conceal 
 always believes himself to be watched and seen by others. 
 Consciousness of guilt makes a man loneky. And should 
 any one succeed in shaking off all relations with others, he 
 would not be secure against one — the judge in his own 
 heart. Blinded by passion, he may momentarily delude 
 himself into the belief that he has torn out his conscience 
 
Chap. I. ] CONSEQUENCES OF MATERIALISM. 73 
 
 by the very roots ; it will come again some day and audibly 
 speak to him. When the passionate desire is satisfied, 
 when recollection and reflection reawake, or when, with 
 increasing age, strength and courage fail, then the image of 
 past deeds arises before the soul and causes anxiety. There 
 is perhaps no man who could look back upon a life full of 
 emptiness and baseness, full of falsehood and cowardice, 
 full of wickedness and depravity, with feelings of satisfac- 
 tion. At any rate, it would not be advisable for any one to 
 make the trial. The lives of so-called men of the world 
 and their female partners, or of blacklegs and scoundrels, 
 little and big ones, are not apt to be described at length 
 and openly either by themselves or others. Should it be 
 done, and perhaps it would not be a useless task, it is not 
 likely that any one would lay aside the book with the 
 feeling : that was a happy and enviable life. And if such 
 a life had achieved an apparent success, if it had committed 
 everything and enjoyed everything with impunity, never- 
 theless it would not easily strike an observer as a beautiful 
 and desirable lot. 
 
 Hence, as long as the world is what it is and human 
 nature remains what it has been, the moral laws will re- 
 main in force, whether we conceive reality as composed of 
 atoms or immaterial substances or what not. The only 
 problem which materialism can put to itself in this connec- 
 tion is this: to explain with the means at its command 
 facts that are indisputably given. If it is in the right, if 
 soul-life is a function of the brain, it will be obliged to ex- 
 plain the laws of morality as well as those of logic as a 
 peculiar organization of the human brain ; it will have to 
 show how such and such a structure of the cortical sub- 
 tance, such and such constitution of certain ganglionic 
 cells, is the cause of such and such strivings and feelings, 
 such and such judgments of the behavior of others and of 
 self. Let the biologist add how this arrangement, no less 
 than the other arrangements of the organic system, acts for 
 the preservation of the individual and the species. And 
 turning to the practical, let him endeavor to found upon 
 his physiological knowledge of the brain a gymnastics or 
 dietetics of the " moral ganglia," of the " conscience-area," 
 
74 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 in order at last to establish pedagogy upon a " scientific " 
 basis. 
 
 Until that is done, the materialist will have to content him- 
 self with his " provisional " laws. There is no reason why 
 he should not do so. The invalidity of the moral laws is 
 absolutely no logical consequence of the view that ail 
 reality is body or function of body. It may be that now 
 and then materialistic writers betray a tendency to speak 
 of morality and conscience with a certain contempt as 
 things with which "science" has no occasion to deal. 
 This tendency to treat slightingly or to ignore altogether 
 facts which one's own theory finds hard to explain is uni- 
 versal. That is accidental. Ancient materialism, which, to 
 begin with, is more philosophical, i.e., more universal in its 
 speculation, than the materialism of modern physicians 
 and physiologists, makes morals its very aim. Ignorance 
 alone can claim that the morality of Democritus or Epi- 
 curus has anything in common with a morality of licen- 
 tiousness. It leads to a discipline of the heart. 
 
 Furthermore, let us remark in conclusion that to attack 
 an antagonistic theory on the ground of its dangerous con- 
 sequences invariably creates a bad impression. It arouses 
 the suspicion that we fear a theoretical examination. We 
 do not extol a view as good as long as we think that we 
 are able to prove its truth. And after all, when we come to 
 think of it, error alone is dangerous ; things are what they 
 are ; how can true ideas concerning them harm us, or false 
 ones benefit us ? 
 
 4. Critique of Materialism. Parallelistic Theory of the Rela- 
 tion between the Physical and the Psychical. 
 
 Let us now turn to the examination of the theoretical 
 value of the materialistic theory. Is the assertion true 
 that all reality is corporeal or the manifestation of cor- 
 poreality ? 
 
 I must confess at once that I cannot be convinced of 
 the truth of the statement. This view may satisfy the 
 purposes of natural science ; it is not adequate to explain 
 reality in general. 
 
 In philosophical circles its insufficiency is usually set 
 
Chap. I.] CRITIQUE OF MATERIALISM. 75 
 
 forth in our day by means of epistemological considera- 
 tions. Kant lias been regarded as the absolute vanquisher 
 of materialism. He is represented as such in F. A. Lange's 
 History of Materialism, for example. Schopenhauer also 
 praises him as such. Kant, he declares, has indicated the 
 great truth : no object without subject, while the absurd 
 undertaking of materialism consists in the attempt to de- 
 rive the subject from the object. 
 
 I do not wish to enter upon this line of argument at 
 this point. I shall return to it in discussing the epistemo- 
 logical problems. Let me say, however, that I share the 
 view that dogmatic materialism is overcome by epistemol- 
 ogy. It shows that bodies, far from being the only absolute 
 reality, have no absolute reality at all. Bodies have relative 
 existence only, namely, phenomenal existence; they exist for 
 a subject organized in a certain way. Their entire essence 
 is a content of perception : a body is black or white, soft 
 or hard, has form and extension, occupies space and is im- 
 penetrable. All these qualities belong to it in relation to 
 a subject with sensibility and intelligence. Without a 
 tongue, no taste ; without eyes, no light and no color ; with- 
 out sensibilitj T and understanding, no space and no body ; 
 without subject, no object. This is a conception of whose 
 truth every man reflecting on these things must be con- 
 vinced. Schopenhauer gives a clear and logical illustration 
 of it in the form of a dialogue between Subject and Matter, 
 as follows. Matter argues : " I exist, and outside of me there 
 is nothing. The world is my transitory form. You are a 
 mere result of a part of this form and altogether accidental, 
 A few moments and you are no more. But I remain for- 
 ever and ever." The Subject responds : " This infinite time, 
 during which it is your boast that you exist, is, like the in- 
 finite space which you occupy, simply my idea, in which 
 you are presented, which apprehends you, to which you 
 owe your existence." * 
 
 Such a view is well fitted to surprise and, perhaps, to 
 agitate «one, but it will hardly produce a lasting convic- 
 tion. Whoever meets it for the first time, will have the 
 
 * World as Will and Idea, vol. n. chap, 1. 
 
76 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 feeling that lie lias simply been taken unawares. Yes, he 
 will say, that is easily said, and perhaps it is difficult to 
 refute it, but that does not make it true. It remains a 
 truth that the world existed before me and my presenta- 
 tion ; that sun, moon, and stars were here before I existed 
 to see them. As soon as we look upon the world of ob- 
 jects again, the belief comes back with overpowering force 
 that it ? the solid world of bodies, constitutes reality, and 
 that its existence is independent of the presenting subject. 
 As Antaeus regains his strength by coming in contact with 
 the earth, so materialism regains its strength by coming in 
 contact with perception. That may be a weakness of 
 common-sense, which stands aghast at abstract thinking, 
 and perhaps Meynert is right when he says that " a man's 
 ability to conceive or not to conceive the unreality of 
 the world created by the activity of his brain, is one of the 
 surest tests of his intellectual capacity." * Still, it will not 
 be wise for any one wishing to produce a real conviction 
 of the insufficiency of the materialistic theory of reality to 
 stop at epistemological considerations. Materialism origi- 
 nated and is at home on the soil of metaphysics or natural 
 philosophy. Whoever wishes to overcome it will have to 
 seek it out here. We shall look at it from this standpoint. 
 
 The thesis of materialism is the proposition : States of 
 consciousness are functions of matter ; they can be ex- 
 plained physiologically as functions of the nervous system, 
 as results of the nervous processes. Has this assertion 
 any foundation ? 
 
 Of late, objections have been urged against it from the 
 physiological side. It is absolutely impossible, it is said, to 
 explain states of consciousness by states of motion, and 
 that is exactly what a physiological explanation ultimately 
 amounts to. Du Bois-Eej^mond is the illustrious spokes- 
 man of this wing. In the oft-mentioned treatise über die 
 Grenzen des Natur er kennens he argues : Physical processes 
 are without exception to be explained physically, and 
 here there is no limit to the possibility of explanation ; 
 there are many things as yet not explained, but none is 
 
 Psychiatrie (1884). 
 
 
Chap. L] CRITIQUE OF MATERIALISM, 77 
 
 inexplicable in itself. The explanation of vital processes, 
 of the origination of the first organisms, with the means 
 of natural science is not, in principle, impossible. But 
 with the first element of consciousness, with the most 
 primitive sensation, something arises which eludes natural- 
 scientific explanation. " Consciousness cannot be explained 
 by its material conditions. The astronomical knowledge 
 of the brain, the highest which we can reach, reveals noth- 
 ing in it except matter in motion. By no discoverable 
 arrangement or movement of material particles can a bridge 
 be built into the realm of consciousness." He concludes 
 with the emphatic declaration : " In reference to the riddle 
 of the corporeal world, the natural scientist has long ago 
 learned to confess his ignoramus with manly resignation. 
 Looking back upon the past road of victory, he is inspired 
 with the secret thought that where he is now in ignorance 
 he might, at least under certain conditions, know, and per- 
 haps will know at some future time. But as regards the 
 riddle concerning what matter and force are and how they 
 can think, he must once for all make up his mind to render 
 the much harder verdict ignorabimus." * 
 
 * Ueber die Grenzen des Naturerkennens (7th ed., 1891), pp. 40 if. A 
 second lecture, Die Sieben Welträthsel, delivered in 1880, gives the history 
 of the former lecture of the year 1872 and continues the discussion. I enter 
 upon a closer examination of these views because they have aroused such 
 attention among natural scientists and have been discussed so frequently. 
 We may regard them as typical examples of a mode of thought which is 
 very common to these circles. The English physicist Tyndall had shortly 
 before expressed a similar view in a lecture delivered in 1888 before a con- 
 gress of natural scientists. Let me append the graphic sentences in which 
 he embodies his thought : " The passage from the physics of the brain to 
 the corresponding facts of consciousness is unthinkable. Granted that a 
 definite thought, and a definite molecular action in the brain, occur simul- 
 taneously; we do not possess the intellectual organ, nor apparently any 
 rudiment of the organ, which would enable us to pass, by a process of 
 reasoning, from the one to the other. They appear together, but we do not 
 know why. Were our minds and senses so expanded, strengthened, and 
 illuminated as to enable us to see and feel the very molecules of the brain ; 
 were we capable of following all their motions, all their groupings, all their 
 electric discharges, if such there be ; and were we intimately acquainted 
 with the corresponding states of thought and feeling, we should be as far 
 as ever from the solution of the problem, ' How are these physical pro- 
 cesses connected with the facts of consciousness ? ' " {Fragments of Science, 
 Scientific Materialism, pp. 419 f.) 
 
78 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 These reflections have been regarded as a refutation of 
 materialism, and perhaps they are meant as such. They 
 seem to me, however, to be inadequate for that ; they miss 
 the real point where materialism is vulnerable, or at least 
 strike it only at random. Materialistic philosophers might 
 answer the objection as follows : According to his state- 
 ments, the disputed point between us and the author of 
 the Grenzen des Naturerkennens is simply, whether states 
 of consciousness can he explained by material conditions 
 or not ; we affirm the question, he denies it. On the other 
 hand, we both agree that consciousness is dependent on 
 material conditions ; he, too, considers himself far above 
 " dogmas and time-honored systems " with their belief in a 
 special soul-substance ; he, too, says that " in a thousand 
 cases material conditions affect mental life." To his un- 
 biassed view there appears no reason to doubt that sense- 
 impressions are actually " communicated to the so-called 
 soul " (p. 45) ; the hypothesis forces itself upon him " that 
 the soul arose as the gradual product of certain material 
 combinations" (p. 47) ; he finds no fault with Yogt's "fig- 
 ure concerning secretions" "for considering the activity of 
 the soul as the product of material conditions in the brain. 
 The mistake lies in supposing that the nature of the 
 activity of the soul can be explained as clearly by the struc- 
 ture of the brain, as secretion might be explained from the 
 structure of the glands if our knowledge were sufficiently 
 advanced" (p. 50). Hence he does not caH in question 
 the fact of conditionality, but only its conceivableness ; 
 we know that movements occasion states of consciousness, 
 only the hotv remains an eternal enigma. 
 
 Perhaps, the materialistic philosopher might proceed, 
 that is the case. How the molecules manage to think, that 
 we do not know, and perhaps will never know. Is there 
 anything unusual in this? Does natural-scientific expla- 
 nation anywhere consist in stating how the cause sets about 
 to produce the effect ? Physics explains many phenomena 
 by the law of gravitation : the falling of the stone, the flow 
 of the brook, the rise of the balloon, the flow and ebb of 
 the ocean, the motion of the planets. It does it by show- 
 ing that all these movements are included in the general 
 
Chap. I.] CRITIQUE OF MATERIALISM. 79 
 
 formula of tlie law of gravitation. But does it show how 
 bodies at all attract each other, or ivhy they tend to move 
 toward each other according to that formula ? Not at all. 
 Just as little does chemistry explain why such and such 
 elements combine in such and such proportions, or why they 
 unite at all. Chemistry, too, informs us only concerning 
 the that, not the how and why. Nor is the case different 
 in mechanics. How a, body manages to transfer its motion 
 to another body which it strikes, mechanics does not explain; 
 it simply reduces the actual occurrences to a law. Hence, 
 to explain a phenomenon in natural science means nothing 
 but to find a formula which embraces the case, by the aid 
 of which it may be foreseen, calculated, and, under certain 
 circumstances, brought about. Du Bois-Eeymond holds 
 the same view. What force is, or what is the origin of 
 motion, is for him as much of a transcendental problem as 
 the essence of matter. 
 
 Therefore, the materialistic philosopher might conclude, 
 we can neither expect nor demand a different procedure 
 in the explanation of states of consciousness. They are ex- 
 plained in the sense of natural science, when we succeed in 
 reaching formulae according to which their occurrence can 
 be foreseen because of other processes, say of certain physio- 
 logical processes in the brain. If we knew that such and 
 such processes in the cells and conducting fibres are regu- 
 larly followed by such and such ideas or feelings, of such and 
 such a quality and intensity, we should know all that we 
 care to know as scientific investigators. Not to know how 
 the physiological process succeeds in producing a sensa- 
 tion cannot trouble us, as long as we do not know how one 
 movement produces another. There is no theoretical rea- 
 son why brain-physiology should not succeed in reaching 
 such formulse. It is very doubtful whether this will actu- 
 ally occur, whether it will ever be able to explain the 
 movements of brain-molecules by which a certain sensa- 
 tion or a certain thought-process is effected. But granting 
 the mere possibility of such a procedure, the possibility of 
 a physical explanation of states of consciousness is also 
 granted, in the same sense in which the word explanation 
 is generally used in natural science. 
 
80 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L. 
 
 In this way, it seems fco me, materialism can escape the 
 aforesaid objection.* If the objection is to have any real 
 weight, it must be stated in different terms. We should 
 say, and that is most likely the import of the objection, 
 there can be no formulae which correlate physical and psy- 
 chical occurrences in the same way in which movements 
 are correlated in the laws of mechanics. Or in other words : 
 No causal relation obtains betiveen physical and psychical pro- 
 cesses. States of consciousness are neither effects nor causes of 
 physical occurrences.^ 
 
 Here we have the beginning of the end of materialism. 
 The beginning only, it is true. 
 
 In order to prove this assertion, however, it will be well, 
 first of all, to hold materialistic philosophers to a more 
 exact declaration of principles. We find them regularly 
 using different statements in the same sense. These state- 
 ments may be reduced to two fundamental forms : first, 
 states of consciousness are effects of physical states ; 
 secondly, states of consciousness as such, or objectively 
 considered, are nothing but physical states of the brain. 
 These formula are constantly used by our materialistic 
 writers indiscriminately. Thus Büchner somewhere ex- 
 plains ps3^chical phenomena as effects of brain-action. It 
 is immaterial to us how they arise from material combina- 
 tions, he says ; it is sufficient to know " that matter in 
 motion acts on the mind through the mediation of the 
 sense-organs and causes motion in it, and that this in turn 
 produces material movements in nerves and muscles." 
 
 * Büchner hints at such a conception. Kraft und Stoff, p. 316. 
 
 f Incidentally Du Bois-Reymond himself establishes this formula. 
 Among the passages quoted above which represent thinking as the product 
 of material "conditions," statements are also found in which the impossi- 
 bility of regarding it as the product of physical causes is expressed. "Mo- 
 tion can produce motion only, or transform it back into potential energy. 
 The mechanical cause completely disappears in the mechanical effect. The 
 mental states accompanying material occurrences in the brain are, as far as 
 our understanding is concerned, without a sufficient cause. They stand 
 without the pale of the causal nexus " (p. 45). The meaning evidently is : 
 without the pale of the mechanical causal nexus, with which alone the 
 " Laplacian mind" is familiar. During the last century every physicist 
 would have made such a distinction. We cannot neglect philosophy with 
 impunity. 
 
Chap. L] CRITIQUE OF MATERIALISM. 81 
 
 Eight beside this statement, however, we find the other : 
 " Thought can and must be regarded as a special form of 
 the general motion of nature, which is as peculiar to the sub- 
 stance of the central nerve-elements as contraction is to 
 the muscles, or the motion of light is to the world-ether." 
 And this, he continues, is not merely a demand of logic. 
 It has of late also been proved experimentally — by the ex- 
 periments, namely, which make plain that psychical states 
 or intellectual motion require time for their occurrence. 
 " The necessary conclusion follows that the psychical act 
 or act of thought occurs in an extended, impenetrable, and 
 composite substratum, and that such an act is, therefore, 
 nothing but a form of movement." He also attempts to 
 prove his point by the fact that the arrival of a sense-im- 
 pression in the brain "at once arouses there an immediate 
 increase in temperature." This, therefore, proves that 
 psychical activity is and can be nothing but the radiation 
 in the cells of the gray cortex of a movement initiated by 
 external impressions." Other experiments are calculated 
 to enlighten us as to the nature of such motion — the experi- 
 ments, namely, which show " that the electricity generated 
 in the nerves is diminished, or wholly vanishes, as soon as 
 the nerve exercises a physiological function. This proves 
 beyond doubt that nervous force or nervous activity is 
 identical with transformed electricity." * 
 
 * Kraft und Stoff, pp. 295. 297, 300 ff. One should read through the sec- 
 tions on brain and soul, thought and consciousness, in order to see the 
 frightful confusion in his fundamental notions. There are three kinds of 
 conceptions concerning the relation of thought and movement, which are 
 tangled into an inextricable snarl. 1. Thought is motion. 2. Thought is- 
 the effect of motion. 3. Thought is indissolubly connected with motion ; 
 "thought and extension can be regarded only as two aspects or manifesta- 
 tions of one and the same unitary being " (p. 300), the real nature of which 
 is as yet unknown to us (pp. 3, 316). Influxus physicus, Parallelism, Iden- 
 tity, and the popular conceptions, Spinoza, Kant, — all these stagger around 
 like drunkards. No wonder that such a man should, on every page of his 
 book, defame the ' ' philosophers " as persons who are skilled in the art of 
 bringing confusion into the simplest and clearest notions by means of a mass 
 of high-flown empty words ! 
 
 Vogt mentions as soporifics "speculative-philosophical" books. Per- 
 haps it would have been well for him, had he at some time or other resisted 
 the influence of these drugs and paid some attention to what Spinoza and 
 
82 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 A Danish philosopher has recently offered a material- 
 istic theory of the emotions with the same double formula.* 
 According to the common view, the emotion of fear, for 
 example, arises as a purely conscious state ; this causes a 
 series of physiological processes, pallor, trembling, etc. 
 The physiologists reverse the process : the emotion is not 
 the cause but rather the effect of the bodily state, that is, 
 the effect of a physiological process in the vaso-motor 
 system. Or, expressed differently : Emotion really consists 
 of functional disturbances of the body. The popular view 
 " that the modification of the mental state constitutes the 
 real emotion, real pleasure or grief, while the bodily states 
 are merely secondary phenomena, which, though they are 
 never absent, are nevertheless unessential as such," is re- 
 jected. Instead, it is shown that the purely psychical emo- 
 tion is a superfluous hypothesis. " What the mother feels 
 who mourns for her dead child is in reality the fatigue and 
 languor of her muscles, the coldness of her ansemic skin, 
 the inability of her brain to think clearly and quickly. All 
 this becomes evident from the consideration of the cause 
 of these phenomena. Take away from the frightened per- 
 son the bodily symptoms, let his pulse beat slowly, his gaze 
 be firm, his color healthy, his movements quick and certain, 
 his thoughts clear ; and what then is left of his fright? " 
 
 If materialism resolutely adheres to the second formu- 
 lation of its thesis, it is absolutely irrefutable. The propo- 
 sition, Thoughts are in reality nothing but movements in 
 the brain, feelings are nothing but bodily processes in the 
 vaso-motor system, is absolutely irrefutable ; not because it 
 is true, however, but because it is absolutely meaningless. 
 The absurd has this advantage in common with truth, that 
 it cannot be refuted. To say that thought is at bottom 
 nothing but a movement is to say that iron is at bottom 
 made of wood. No argument avails here. All that can be 
 said is this : I understand by a thought a thought and not 
 
 Kant have to say on the subject. He would, perhaps, have escaped the 
 confusion which is so manifest in his own writings. See Physiologische 
 Briefe, 4th ed. 1876, p. 354. 
 
 * C. Lange, Über Gemüthsbewegungen, translated into German by 
 Kurella (1887). 
 
€hap. I.] CRITIQUE OF MATERIALISM. 83 
 
 a movement of brain-molecules ; and similarly, I designate 
 with the words anger and fear, auger and fear themselves 
 and not a contraction or dilation of blood-vessels. Suppose 
 the latter processes also occur, and suppose they always 
 occur when the former occur, still they are not thoughts 
 and feelings. Turn it which way you will, you will never 
 find thought in movement. The common man knows 
 nothing whatever of the motion in the brain or of the vaso- 
 motor process, but he knows what anger is, and what 
 thought is, and he means these, when he speaks of them, 
 and not something else of which the physiologist alone 
 knows or thinks he knows. Or will the physiologist stop 
 talking of thoughts and feelings after his science will have 
 acquired more exact information concerning the bodily 
 processes, and will he, instead, speak only of what they are 
 at bottom and in reality or objectively considered, that is, 
 movements ? Will he, in case he should happen to fall in 
 love, no longer confess his love, but mention the corre- 
 sponding vaso-motor processes or, in the words of Tyndall, 
 discourse on the right-handed spiral motion of the mole- 
 cules of the brain ? Does that tell the whole story ? How 
 nonsensical ! 
 
 Hence, in order to make argument at all possible, ma- 
 terialism must first relinquish the formula : Thought is 
 motion. Thought is not motion, but thought. It is, how- 
 ever, possible that it bears some uniform and determinable 
 relation to motion. Should experience show this to be the 
 case, the problem would be to ascertain the nature of this 
 relation. 
 
 Two forms of the relation between physical and psychi- 
 cal occurrences are conceivable after we have excluded the 
 relation of identity. We can have either a causal relation 
 or a relation of mere coexistence in time. Since the seven- 
 teenth century the two rival philosophical theories have 
 held to these two conceptions concerning the relation of 
 body and soul. I mean the theory of interaction (influxus 
 physicus) and the theory of occasionalism or parallelism. We 
 are obliged to choose between the two. Unless I am mis- 
 taken, materialism will decide for the former view : States 
 of consciousness are effects of bodily states ; whereas its 
 
84 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [.Book I. 
 
 physiological critics mentioned above, incline to the theory 
 of parallelism, without, it is true, really carrying out the 
 thought consistently. 
 
 We must first elucidate the two conceptions. Let us 
 imagine with Leibniz the skull of an animal or man to be as 
 large as a mill. Suppose one could walk around in it and 
 observe the processes in the brain as one can observe the 
 movements of the machinery and the cogging of the wheels 
 in the mill. "What brain-processes would the observer ex- 
 pect to see according to each of the two theories ? 
 
 The adherent of the parallelistic theory must evidently 
 expect the following. The physical processes in the brain 
 form a closed causal nexus. There is no member that is 
 not physical in its nature. One would see as little of 
 psychical processes, of ideas and thoughts, as in the move- 
 ments of the mill. A man crosses the street. Suddenly 
 his name is called ; he turns around and walks toward 
 the person who called him. The omniscient physiologist 
 would explain the whole process in a purely mechanical 
 way. He would show how the physical effect of the 
 sound-waves upon the organ of hearing excited a definite 
 nervous process in the auditory nerve, how this process 
 was conducted to the central organ, how it released cer- 
 tain physical processes there which finally led to the in- 
 nervation of certain groups of motor nerves, the ultimate re- 
 sult of which was the turning and movement of the body in 
 the direction of the sound-waves. All these occurrences 
 together combine into an unbroken chain of physical pro- 
 cesses. Alongside of this, another process occurred of 
 which the physiologist as such sees nothing and needs to 
 know nothing, with which, however, he is acquainted as a 
 thinking being who interprets his percepts ; there are audi- 
 tory sensations, which aroused ideas and feelings. The 
 person called heard his name ; he turned around in order 
 to discover who called him and why he was addressed ; 
 he perceived an old acquaintance and went to greet him. 
 These occurrences accompany the physical series without 
 interfering with it ; perception and presentation are not 
 members of the physical causal series. 
 
 The case would be different if the theory of interaction 
 
Chap. I.J CRITIQUE OF MATERIALISM. 85 
 
 were correct. The adherent of this theory must expect the 
 physical process to be interrupted at certain points — at 
 such, namely, at which psychical occurrences enter as mem- 
 bers of the causal series. If nervous movement is the 
 cause of the sensation, it must vanish as such, and, in its 
 place, sensation must appear. The motion of the ball A 
 has as its effect the motion of the ball B, that is, the first 
 motion disappears, and in its stead there appears an equal 
 definite motion of the second ball. A motion produces heat, 
 that is, the motion vanishes, and in its stead there appears a 
 definite amount of heat. The same would have to happen 
 in our case : instead of a lost movement there would appear 
 a sensation, or an idea of definite intensity and quality, as its 
 equivalent. The idea is not, however, an object of ex- 
 ternal observation ; ideas and feelings cannot be seen as 
 such or be discovered by the methods of natural science 
 at all. For the physicist there would then be a break in 
 the causal chain; a link would be wanting from the physi- 
 cal series. — Should our materialistic philosopher refuse to 
 grant this, holding that the idea in turn is also something 
 physical, some form or other of motion, he would thereby, 
 of course, prove untrue to his hypothesis and go over to 
 the parallelistic theory. For, if he were right, the natural 
 scientist would, of course, be concerned only with the 
 physical, and could ignore the fact that the process has as 
 its concomitant a state of consciousness. The physical 
 effect and not the sensation as such would then be the 
 equivalent and effect of the physical cause. 
 
 These are the two possible conceptions. Which of 
 them is true ? 
 
 This question being a question of facts can be decided 
 only by experience. In themselves, both views are con- 
 ceivable. Has experience settled the matter ? I think no 
 one will claim that final observations have been made by 
 which either one of these conceptions would exclude the 
 other. Perhaps they will never be made. Observations 
 and experiments are powerless in the presence of these 
 unapproachable and most complicated processes of organic 
 life. 
 
 Nevertheless, the natural scientist will not long be in 
 
86 THE ONTOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 doubt as to which notion to choose. He will say that the 
 analogy of combined experience leads him to assume a 
 continuity of physical processes even in this case. He 
 would regard it as a presumptuous and impracticable de- 
 mand to assume that motion is transformed, not into 
 another form of motion, not into potential physical energy, 
 but into something that does not exist at all physically. 
 Transformation of motion or force into thought, into pure 
 states of consciousness, would for the natural-scientific 
 view be nothing but the destruction of energy. Similarly, 
 the origination of motion from a purely mental element, 
 for example from the idea of a wish, would in physics be 
 equivalent to creation out of nothing. Consequently he 
 would be forced to accept the parallelistic theory instead 
 of the other which assumes a causal relation. Perhaps the 
 materialistic metaphysician will, in order to escape this 
 dilemma, go over to the parallelistic hypothesis. Bather 
 than give up the law of the conservation of physical energy, 
 he will in the end abandon the formula : States of con- 
 sciousness are effects of the physical organization. What 
 hinders us, he will say, from conceiving them as concomi- 
 tants of brain-processes? In that case the relation between 
 them would remain essentially the same : mental processes,, 
 though not incidental effects, are incidental reflexes of 
 physical processes. Nay, perhaps he will say : This is ex- 
 actly my view of the matter. The brain-process is the ob- 
 jective element; sensation, idea, and feeling, the subjective 
 reflex. We read in Büchner : " Thought and extension, 
 two aspects or manifestations of one and the same unitary 
 being " (p. 300) ; " Mind and nature are at bottom the same " ; 
 " Logic and mechanism are the same, and the reason 
 of nature is at the same time the reason of thought " (p. 
 127). In what follows we shall, therefore, accept the theory 
 of parallelism. We beg the reader to bear this in mind as 
 we proceed to discuss the consequences of this view.* 
 
 * That this is Spinoza's solution of the problem was already mentioned 
 above (p. 58). But it must be added that he himself confused this thought 
 with another. He straightway substitutes for metaphysical parallelism an 
 epistemological parallelism, or at least employs the parallelism of the physi- 
 cal and psychical worlds solely in order to obtain what turns out to be an 
 altogether unsatisfactory solution of the epistemological problem : How 
 
Chap. I.] ZEE PARALLELISTIC THEORY. 87 
 
 5. The Consequences of the Parallelistic Theory. 
 Panpsychism. 
 
 Two propositions are contained in the theory of paral- 
 lelism : (1) Physical processes are never effects of psy- 
 chical processes ; (2) Psychical processes are never effects 
 of physical processes. 
 
 The first proposition implies that the living body is an 
 automaton. It is distinguished from the machine by the 
 infinite complexity of its composition, but all its operations 
 are ultimately explicable by the same fundamental forces 
 which the natural scientist generally employs. There are 
 no exceptions to the rule ; even the most complicated move- 
 ments of living bodies, the most skilful works and acts of 
 man, can be explained without regard to mental processes, 
 
 thought and being happen to coincide. He thinks he can solve it by identify- 
 ing logical consequence and mechanical causation on the ground of this par- 
 allelism. Leibniz took up the thought, without thus distorting it, and more 
 logically developed its biological as well as psychological consequences. He 
 extends soul-life beyond the boundaries of consciousness ; and, on the other 
 side, beyond the limits of the animal world. The founder of psycho-physics, 
 G. Th. Fechner, revives this view in our time (a brief exposition of the 
 fundamental concepts in Zend-Avesta, n. 312 ff.). W. AVundt also accepts 
 it {System der Philosophie, pp. 582 ff. See also the concluding chapter in 
 his Physiologische Psychologie). An intelligent discussion of the question 
 from the same standpoint will be found by the reader also in H. Höff- 
 ding's Umrisse der Psychologie, 2d ed. 1893, pp. 71 ff. (tr. by Mary Lowndes). 
 There are also philosophers who adhere to the principle of interaction 
 between the physical and psychical realms. H. Spencer, for example, 
 evolves states of consciousness from movement {First Principles, § 71). 
 Lotze occupies a peculiar position. In principle he holds to the possibility 
 of interaction. On the other hand, by adopting universal spiritualism and 
 pantheism, he finally renders superfluous the reasoning which he had em- 
 ployed in defending the theory of interaction. 
 
 The physiologists and psychiatrists find it difficult to reach a consistent 
 view. They deny the possibility of mind acting on body, and thus approach 
 the parallelistic hypothesis. But, on the other hand, they cannot muster 
 up the courage to accept this theory's conception of the effects of body on 
 mind, and hence they do not get beyond the conception of the influxus 
 physicus; that is, they are caught in the meshes of the materialistic view : 
 Soul-processes are reflexes and effects of bodily states. The lectures of 
 Du Bois-Reymond, quoted above, are typical examples of this attitude. 
 Or take H. Maudsley {Physiology and Pathology of Mind). Spinoza is often 
 quoted by Maudsley, but the author deceives himself when he believes that 
 his views coincide with the thoughts of that acute and logical thinker. 
 
88 TEE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 solely as mechanical reactions of a peculiarly-fashioned 
 bodily system upon such and such physical excitations. 
 A dog pursues a rabbit : he is determined by scent and 
 sight, as it were. The movement is to be explained purely 
 physically, not otherwise than the movement of the sun- 
 flower which turns to the light, or of the planet which 
 rotates around the sun. Action and reaction are more 
 complicated in this case, but they are present in both as 
 purely physical manifestations, and are to be explained by 
 the methods of physical science. An author writes a book ; 
 a builder has a house built by the help of a hundred work- 
 men ; a general fights a battle with a hundred thousand 
 soldiers. The omniscient physiologist would explain all 
 these processes, as physically conditioned, by the organiza- 
 tion of the respective bodies, their nervous and muscular 
 systems, and, on the other hand, by the nature of the external 
 stimuli. He would explain the author of the Critique of 
 Pure Beason just as he would explain a clock-work. In 
 consequence of this particular arraugement of the brain- 
 cells and of their interconnections with each other and the 
 motor nerves, certain stimuli exciting the retina and the 
 tactile nerves of the fingers had to occasion certain move- 
 ments, which are in no wise different from those of a writ- 
 ing automaton or a music-box. Not the slightest allusion 
 would be made in his illustration to thoughts and the like. 
 The physiologist might know that some such process 
 occurs, but he would neither wish nor be allowed to make 
 use of it in his explanation. Thoughts are as little able to 
 make fingers move as to turn the moon from its orbit. It 
 is not to be expected that such an omniscient physiologist 
 will ever exist ; the action of the brain-molecules which 
 accompanied the intellectual labor of the Critique of Pure 
 Reason will never find its Newton. Yet it would have to 
 be admitted that the action of the molecules and not the 
 thoughts are the sole causes of the movement by means of 
 which the written characters were set down on paper. 
 
 But that is nonsense, common-sense will say, and per- 
 haps a physiologist or two will agree with it. No autom- 
 aton can accomplish such a feat; such things cannot be 
 explained without thought and purpose. Well, in that 
 
Chap. I.J THE PARALLELIST1C THEORY. 89 
 
 case, we are manifestly compelled to return to the theory 
 of interaction and all its difficulties : Motion originates from 
 something that does not exist physically at all, and motion 
 is transformed into a purely mental element. One or the 
 other; there is no other alternative. 
 
 However, as regards the inability of the body to per- 
 form such automatic movements, we may say with Spinoza 
 that no one has ever discovered the body's limits. He 
 refers to somnambulists, who perform the most com- 
 plicated movements without consciousness and thought. 
 In our day he would, perhaps, have referred to hypnotic 
 processes, to the post-hypnotic effects of suggestion, for 
 example. Orders are given to a person during hypnotic 
 sleep to enter a certain house on the next day at noon, 
 and to wave his pocket-handkerchief out of the window. 
 He knows nothing of the command ; he does not remember 
 what happened to him in the hypnotic state, and yet when 
 the hour comes he proceeds to carry out the order. How 
 else can this process be explained than by assuming that 
 the words of the hypnotizer have produced a certain ar- 
 rangement of the brain, so that, when the clock strikes, a 
 series of movements is released just as in the alarm-clock 
 when the hand passes the time set for alarm? It is not 
 surprising that infinitely more complicated movements take 
 place than can be performed by our machines. The 500 
 or 1000 million cortical cells, which in turn are composed 
 of countless and exceedingly complicated and heterogeneous 
 chemical molecules, and are connected with each other by 
 innumerable paths, can surely accomplish more than the 
 few wheels and levers in our machines. And though our 
 physiologists are as yet at sea in reference to them, still 
 an immense field is opened to our imagination. This, how- 
 ever, we must make clear to ourselves : If the mind partici- 
 pates in these processes as a cause, it does so without 
 knowledge. It effects the movements of the writer's fingers, 
 for example, surely not by knowing the nature and position 
 of the nerves and muscles, but in some absolutely mysteri- 
 ous manner. The soul moves the limbs, is equivalent to 
 saying : I do not know how the body is moved. By no 
 
90 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 means can movements be explained by conscious purposive 
 action of the mind, guided by a knowledge of the means. 
 
 The entire corporeal world is thereby unreservedly 
 placed at the disposal of natural seience. It may declare : 
 For me, reality means nothing but body ; all processes in 
 nature can be explained by the means at my command, 
 exclusively as movements and motive forces of material 
 elements. I do not need the hypothesis of a soul, or a 
 mind, or a God, formerly employed by physics ; the causal 
 series nowhere shows me an element that does not fall 
 within the physical world. Nay, if such factors were 
 placed at my service from other sources, I should neither 
 wish nor be able to make any use of them. 
 
 This is one side of the matter. I believe materialism 
 itself has reason to be satisfied with these statements. 
 
 We now turn to the other side, to the second proposi- 
 tion which was characterized above as a consequence of 
 the parallelistic theory : Psychical processes are not effects 
 of physical processes. It is but the reverse of the first 
 proposition, just as reasonable, just as evident as that. If 
 thought can be the effect of movements, there is no reason 
 whatever why a movement should not be the effect of a 
 thought. Let us examine the consequences of this propo- 
 sition. I fear the metaphysician of materialism and the 
 physiologist will find them hard to swallow. Yet I do not 
 see how we can get around them. 
 
 I hear the sound of a bell. That is the effect, says 
 common reflection, of the vibration of the air ; the excita- 
 tion of the auditory nerve is the cause of the sensation. 
 That is impossible, says our theory ; a sensation is a psy- 
 chical process, and cannot, therefore, be the effect of a 
 movement. Of what, then, is it the effect ? For we surely 
 all assume that it is an effect, not an isolated process inde- 
 pendent of the causal lav/. Even those who believe in free- 
 will regard sensations as caused. Hence, what causes the 
 sensation ? A state of consciousness preceding it in the 
 mind of the hearer ? Apparently not, for it follows upon 
 any state of consciousness whatsoever. The cause must, 
 therefore, be sought outside of the states of consciousness 
 themselves. Are we then forced back to the air-waves 
 
Chap. I .] THE PARALLELISTIC THEORY. 91 
 
 which proceed from the sounding bell; or is there still 
 another possibility ? 
 
 There is, indeed, still another possibility. It is the 
 hypothesis of Spinoza and of Fechner, the hypothesis of 
 universal 'parallelism. No psychical process without con- 
 comitant movement, no process of movement without a 
 concomitant psychical process. If we accept this hypoth- 
 esis, it is evident that we shall overcome the difficulty. 
 Then we shall say : The movements which proceed from the 
 bell have as their sole effects nervous excitations and brain- 
 states. Sensation, on the other hand, is the effect of the 
 inner processes accompanying these vibrations. 
 
 Let me add, however : We have no knowledge of these 
 inner processes ; movements are given, not their psychical 
 accompaniments. The latter are given only at one point, in 
 self-consciousness, whose states we conceive as phenomena 
 accompanying the processes in our nervous system. The 
 external world, on the other hand, is given to us only from 
 the physical side, as a corporeal world in motion ; the inner 
 side is an addition of thought. Practically, therefore, 
 this hypothesis does not effect any change in our conception 
 of these processes ; we shall continue to say : Sound-waves 
 occasion the sensation of sound, the prick of the needle 
 occasions pain. Only when we desire to go to the very 
 bottom of things, shall we declare once for all : Such state- 
 ments are in reality inexact modes of expression ; the 
 proposition ought really to assert : Processes which are 
 unknown to us, but whose physical equivalents are physical 
 or chemical processes, are the causes of these psychical 
 states. Our hypothesis is, to use an old comparison, like 
 the Copernican theory in this respect. We first get a clear 
 conception of the real state of affairs, and then go right on 
 speaking of sunrise and sunset in the usual way. We do 
 the same here. Two sides of reality are coextensive with 
 each other ; for every fact in the one there is a correspond- 
 ing fact in the other; the psychical processes a, ß, y corre- 
 spond to the physical processes a, b, c. A causal relation 
 exists between the members of the same series. Since, 
 however, there are breaks in both series, we substitute for 
 them the members of the corresponding series. 
 
92 THE ONTOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 Our view of the processes does not, therefore, undergo 
 any practical change because of our hypothesis. It is easy 
 to see, however, that it would have important consequences 
 for our conception of the world. It would lead us to an 
 idealistic view of the world. For one thing is evident : if the 
 physical and psychical sides of reality are coextensive, we 
 shall say : The psychical domain is the representation of 
 reality as it is by itself and for itself ; the physical side, on 
 the other hand, is degraded to a mere external phenomenon. 
 In this connection, the advance from Spinoza to Leibniz is 
 inevitable. 
 
 "What about this conception ? Is it more than a mere 
 subterfuge, to avoid the difficulty of interaction between 
 soul and body ? Is it really a credible view of the nature 
 of things? Can we take the notion seriously that some 
 inner processes or other run parallel with all bodily pro- 
 cesses ? This is evidently the cardinal question of on- 
 tology. The answer to the question concerning the extent 
 of soul-life is the point at which metaphysical conceptions 
 of the world really diverge. 
 
 The popular mind, and with it the conception prevailing 
 among physicists, makes short work of the question con- 
 cerning the extent of mental life. States of consciousness 
 are concomitants of brain-processes. Animal bodies are 
 the only bearers of psychical life ; all other bodies are mere 
 bodies. 
 
 It is plain that in this answer we do not get beyond the 
 confines of a materialistic world-view. Conscious states 
 remain isolated secondary processes of nature ; they are, 
 in the eyes of the natural scientist, strange and perplex- 
 ing anomalies. He cannot get rid of them ; their exist- 
 ence, indeed, is indisputable, but they make him uneasy : 
 without them the system of bodies in motion, which he 
 calls world or nature, would be entirely transparent and 
 rational ; they force upon him that unfortunate ignordbimus. 
 His only consolation is that these conscious states are of 
 no consequence after all ; at least, they do not interfere 
 with the course of nature. Nor is great importance to be 
 attached to these isolated and insignificant processes from 
 the cosmical point of view. 
 
Chap. L] THE PABALLELISTIG THEORY. 93 
 
 If this disposes of the matter, materialism essentially 
 gains its point, even on the assumption of the parallelistic 
 theory. 
 
 The philosophers, however, have never been willing to 
 abide by this settlement of the question. They have al- 
 ways shown a tendency to attribute greater importance to 
 the processes under consideration. From the beginnings 
 of Greek philosophy to our day, the philosophical, that is, 
 universal view of reality has gone beyond the physical- 
 astronomical notion, and has regarded it as necessary to 
 associate with reality in general and in particular, an inner, 
 ideal, mental principle. Plato and Aristotle, Spinoza and 
 Leibniz, Schelling and Schopenhauer, Lotze and Fechner, 
 however else their thoughts may diverge, all agree that the 
 mental element does not play the part of an isolated side- 
 issue in the world ; that, on the contrary, everything corpo- 
 real points to something else, an inner, intelligible element, 
 a being for itself, which is akin to what we experience 
 within ourselves. Whoever shares this conception that 
 mind has the importance of a universal and cosmical prin- 
 ciple of reality, sides with Idealism, however else he may 
 explain the matter to himself. 
 
 In what follows I shall not attempt to prove the truth 
 of this conception. Proof in the field of metaphysics is a 
 delicate matter. But I wish to offer a few reflections that 
 seem to urge us to such a world-view. They may, if they 
 mean nothing else, serve as rationes dubitandi against the 
 obstinate dogmatism of popular opinion and of the physi- 
 cal conception of the universe.* 
 
 * I should like to call the reader's attention to a little treatise of Fechner's, 
 lieber die Seelenfrage (1861). In the title, Fechner calls the treatise "a 
 journey through the visible world to find the invisible world." No one 
 who has attempted such a task has accomplished it with greater success than 
 he. In a remarkable degree Fechner unites the circumspection of the natural 
 scientist with the careful foresight of the philosopher and the emotional 
 fancy of the poet. The extent of psychical life is the central problem of 
 his philosophy. He treats it especially in Wanna, oder über das Seelenleben 
 der Pflanze (1848), in Zend-Avesta, über die Dinge des Himmels und des 
 Jenseits (3 vols., 1851) ; he touches upon it in the Elemente der PsycJio- 
 physik (2 vols., 1860), and gives a comprehensive, very intelligible, and per- 
 tinent exposition of his view in the above-mentioned little work lieber die 
 Seelenfrage. A final and definite exposition of his philosophy, in its oppo- 
 
94 THE ONTOLOOIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 First of all, let us consider the guiding principle. How 
 can we at all decide as to the presence of psychical pro- 
 cesses ? The answer is self-evident. We become immedi- 
 ately aware of our existence only at one point, namely, in 
 our self-consciousness. I can never know through immedi- 
 ate observation that, besides the sensations, ideas, and voli- 
 tions which I experience in myself, similar processes occur 
 in the world. "What my neighbor feels and thinks, I do not 
 know by observation, but by inference ; all that I see is a 
 physical phenomenon. I see movements and gestures, hear 
 sounds which proceed from a body like mine, but I see no 
 feelings and ideas ; and no microscope or telescope can help 
 me to see them. The feelings and ideas I add in thought 
 by inferring from the analogy of the bodily processes 
 which I see, the existence of analogous mental processes, 
 which I do not see. 
 
 How far may this inference be extended ? The popular 
 view answers, as was said before : As far as animal life 
 extends. Animals are animated beings ; all other objects 
 — metals, stones, plants — are not animated : they are mere 
 bodies. At the most, plants might possibly be considered 
 as having souls, but not seriously. The plant-soul is a 
 dream of childish fancy. 
 
 This view claims to be the self-evident and only possible 
 view, but I am inclined to think that its assurance exceeds 
 the force of its arguments. Indeed, it is purely arbitrary. 
 
 In the first place, how far does the animal world extend ? 
 Is it separated by a fixed boundary from the rest of the 
 
 sition to materialism and dualism, is given in Tagesansicht gegenüber der 
 NachtansicM (1879). Fechner's conception is intimately related to Schopen- 
 hauer's, whose philosophy has as its central dogma the thesis : That which 
 is presented to our thought as the corporeal world is, as such, psychical in its 
 nature, namely, will. In Schopenhauer's works, particularly in the little 
 treatise lieber den Willen in der Natur, we find numerous passages from 
 natural-scientific writers who, unwittingly and even against their will, tes- 
 tify to the truth of his view. Fechner excels Schopenhauer especially in 
 the clearness of his insight. He sees that the assumed inner world cannot 
 serve as an explanation of the physical world ; in the world of bodies, only 
 physical principles of explanation are valid. There is a universal tendency 
 in Schopenhauer to misapply the metaphysical principle, the will, to the ex- 
 planation of nature. Schopenhauer, on the other hand, excels in his vol- 
 untaristic psychology. We shall return to this point later on. 
 
Chap. I.] THE PABALLELISTIC THEORY. 95 
 
 corporeal world, particularly from the vegetable kingdom ? 
 Common opinion presupposes this. It divides the cor- 
 poreal world into three distinct kingdoms, in accordance 
 with old scholastic concepts — into animal, vegetable, and 
 mineral kingdoms. But modern biology has obliterated 
 these fixed lines ; here, too, it is confronted with the propo- 
 sition that nature makes no leaps. Though the animal 
 and vegetable kingdoms differ greatly, they approach each 
 other very closely on the lower stages of development. 
 There are numerous lower forms of life which have the 
 characteristics neither of true animals nor of true plants. 
 A separate group, the group of the protista, has been 
 formed for them, an intermediate kingdom in which plant 
 and animal meet. If there is no fixed boundary-line be- 
 tween the animal and vegetable worlds, if we are obliged 
 to regard them as two branches grown on one stem, the 
 question is forced on us : Are plants also bearers of psy- 
 chical life ? Everybody concedes an inner life to animals, 
 even to the lowest forms, however far removed they may be 
 from the higher forms. We cannot, without being arbi- 
 trary, refuse to admit that the protista, the plant-animals 
 or animal-plants in which the animal world gradually van- 
 ishes, also have an inner life. Hence the inference is 
 obvious : Just as there is no fixed line of demarcation 
 between the animal and the plant worlds, so there is no 
 fixed limit to psychical life. Soul-life may extend over the 
 entire organic world.* 
 
 * E. Haeckel, Natürliche Schöpfungsgeschichte (8th ed., 1889 ; English, 
 Natural History of Creation, 1892), pp. 414 ff., inclines to the belief that 
 primitive life is found in plantlike organisms. " Zooplasm was evolved from 
 phytoplasm by division of labor, since only phytoplasm can arise directly 
 from anorganic combinations by the influence of sunlight." Animal or- 
 ganisms arose as follows : Some of the first living forms began to assimilate 
 organic matter and then lost the faculty of nutrition by means of inorganic 
 matter (425, 431). According to Wundt, however, (System der Philosophie, 
 pp. 503 f., 334 f.,) the simplest forms of life are to be regarded, as far as 
 their functions and the metabolic process are concerned, as the simplest 
 forms of animals. From these, plants branched off as chlorophyll-produc- 
 ing organisms. This distinction is immaterial for our purposes. The 
 psycho-physiological studies of M. Verworrn (1889) offer interesting obser- 
 vations on the soul-life of the protista. He attributes the fundamental 
 forms of psychical life, sensation and will, although without real conscious- 
 
96 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 While this possibility will be generally admitted, yet it- 
 is not proper for science to play with possibilities. It 
 demands facts. Can we adduce them here ? 
 
 I believe we can, only we must not expect the soul-life 
 of a plant to be shown to us. In the case of man and the 
 lower animals, we content ourselves with inferring analo- 
 gous inner processes from the analogy of physical vital pro- 
 cesses. Why not make the same inference here? For after 
 all, a convincing proof cannot be given in the former case 
 either. Aman cannot be forced by logic to grant the exist- 
 ence of psychical life to infusoria, worms, frogs, and rabbits, 
 if he regards the analogical conclusion as too uncertain. But 
 if he admits this mode of inference without reserve in the 
 latter case, and we all do it, there is no reason for exclud- 
 iDg it in the case of plants. For plants manifestly show a 
 far-reaching analogy with animals in visible vital processes : 
 in nutrition, growth, cellular structure of elementary forms, 
 reproduction by means of forms which separate from the 
 parent organism. Development and death are common to 
 both plants and animals. Language, too, universally speaks 
 of life and death in plants as well as in animals. Why 
 should there not be a correspondence between the visible 
 and the invisible processes ? To deny that there is, would, 
 to say the least, require some proof. Indeed^ we might 
 say with Fechner : as a house is meant for an inhabitant, 
 so a living body is meant for a soul. There is something 
 strange in the unreasonable demand that we regard an 
 animal body, a horse or a dog, as a soulless automaton, a 
 view which is attributed to the Cartesians. Nay, such a 
 body without a soul would strike us as something ghastly 
 ancffull of terror. And shall we regard it as self-evident 
 that plants are mere empty casiugs? 
 
 The reply is heard : That is merely a vague and trifling 
 analogy. If so, let some one point out what is wanting in 
 the analogy that would justify the inference of an inner life. 
 With what functions, with what marks that are lacking m 
 plants, is inner life connected ?— Eeference is made to the 
 
 ness, to the protista, on the ground of their movements : reactionary move- 
 ments following stimuli are signs of the same psychical concomitants that 
 are experienced in the most developed form in ourselves. 
 
Chap. I.] THE PARALLELISTIC THEORY. 97 
 
 absence of a nervous system and a brain. Feclmer answers : 
 Neither have the lowest animals a nervous system. Be- 
 sides, the syllogism is worthless. It is formulated on the 
 plan : Horses, dogs, and cats have legs, without which they 
 cannot move ; therefore creatures without legs cannot 
 move. Snakes and worms contradict the sjdlogism. If 
 these can move without legs, plants may have psychical life 
 without nerves. 
 
 But, says the doubter, plants lack the power of sponta- 
 neous movement which we observe in all animals. Really ? 
 Does not the plant turn its buds and leaves to the light, 
 does it not send its roots where it finds nourishment, and 
 its tendrils where it finds support ? Does it not close up 
 its petals at night or when it rains, and does it not open 
 them in sunshine ? Do not many plant-germs move freely 
 about in water, whereas animals in the first stages of em- 
 bryonic development betray nothing of the power of free 
 locomotion possessed by the developed animals ? — But, the 
 doubter replies, these are not spontaneous movements, but 
 mechanically-conditioned reactions upon physical stimuli. 
 — Well, did we not agree in the last section to regard all 
 processes in the animal body as purely physically condi- 
 tioned? Do not physiologists and materialistic philoso- 
 phers insist upon this very fact, that the spontaneous 
 movements of animals are not explained by means of sen- 
 sations and feelings, but as physically-conditioned reactions 
 of a given body upon given stimuli? 
 
 To be sure, there are differences between animals and 
 plants, and these differences we do not wish to deny; 
 they become conspicuous enough in the higher stages of 
 development. Besides the difference in metabolism, a 
 difference which Wundt emphasizes is particularly marked: 
 in the growth of the plant the principle of homogeneity 
 and co-ordination of the elementary organisms prevails, 
 while in the animal world the principle of differentiation 
 obtains. {System der Philosophie, p. 508.) Fechner's 
 statement is evidently in line with this : The plant 
 develops outwardly ; it pushes to the surface ; with its 
 thousand leaves and buds it seeks the approach to light 
 and air, while the trunk or stem lignifies on the inside or 
 
98 THE ONTOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 becomes hollow, and is preserved only in so far as it is 
 needed for support. The animal, on the other hand, shuts 
 out the external world by means of skin and hair, scales 
 and covering, and develops inwardly, where the many vital 
 functions and organs are unfolded. Contact with the 
 external world is confined to a few places, and the whole 
 body is concentrated and centralized in a narrow space, — 
 in the nervous system. 
 
 But difference is not an argument against psychism as 
 such. It may be conceived as indicating a difference in 
 inner life also, it may mean that plants possess a peculiar 
 inclination to receptivity and decentralized extensity, where- 
 as the psychical life of the animal shows more spontaneity 
 and centralized intensity. Fechner finds the same differ- 
 ence between animals and plants that exists between the 
 psychical life of man and woman, only that it is infinitely 
 intensified and deepened on the higher stage. It does not 
 matter what we think, for in reality all endeavors to infer 
 the inner life of plants from their external appearances are 
 at best feeble attempts. And it must be remembered that 
 we do not fare better with the interpretation of the psychical 
 life of animals, particularly of the lower animals. When it 
 comes to that, we know very little about the inner experi- 
 ences of a jelly-fish, or the feelings of a caterpillar or butter- 
 fly. But Fechner is, in my opinion, perfectly right when 
 he says that the same reasons which induce us to infer an 
 inner life, which we do not see, from a bodily life, which we 
 do see, hold for all organic life, for plants as well as animals. 
 Although it is usually held : Probatio incumbit qffirmanti, one 
 feels inclined to say here : The burden of proof rests on him 
 who denies the validity of the analogical syllogism. He 
 must show why it is not valid here, otherwise his nega- 
 tion is arbitrary.* 
 
 * How arbitrary the discussion of this question is, is clearly seen in the 
 case of W. Volkmann (Lehrbuch der Psychologie, i. 99). He considers the 
 extension of psychism to plant-life as " inexpedient." Even though certain 
 remote analogies with the instinctive movements of animals cannot be de- 
 nied to plants, still the uncertainty of the question admonishes us " rather 
 to disregard the remote analogies than to give up our precise definition of 
 the soul." As though it were a matter of moment, at all events to save the 
 " definition of the soul," which was intended by Herbartian psychology to 
 
Chap. I.] THE PARALLELISTIC THEORY. 99 
 
 The further question arises at the conclusion of this 
 discussion : Have we reached the end, is the parallelism 
 between physical and psychical processes limited to the 
 organic world? Or is there any meaning in the statement 
 of the philosophers mentioned before, that it holds univer- 
 sally ; that wherever physical processes are given they 
 point to an inner being ? 
 
 Let me suggest a few facts which may at least show 
 that the question is not as absurd as at first sight it seems to 
 popular thought. The organic and inorganic bodies form, 
 not two separate worlds, but a unitary whole in constant 
 interaction. There is no difference in substance ; organic 
 bodies are composed of the same ingredients of which 
 inorganic bodies consist. The carbon, nitrogen, hydrogen, 
 and oxygen of which a plant or animal body consists are 
 identical with the substances found in inorganic construc- 
 tions. Matter, therefore, is capable of organization, and this 
 organization is a state of unstable equilibrium, in which 
 the particles of matter continually change, the form re- 
 maining the same. Organic bodies constantly give off and 
 take up matter. After a certain space of time, a complete 
 change of matter has taken place ; new elements now appear 
 as the bearers of organic and psychical life. — Furthermore, 
 new animal and plant bodies are constantly arising. A few 
 handfuls of grain placed in the earth yield a bushel of 
 wheat ; a pair of mice left alone with the wheat soon 
 change it into hundreds of living and feeling animal bodies 
 with souls. Whence came these souls ? Did they pre- 
 exist somewhere, and did they suddenly pass into the bodies 
 prepared for them ? Or, if this conception repels the nat- 
 ural scientist, did they arise by the division of the parent 
 soul ? What a strange and unintelligible notion ! 
 
 And how did soul-life originate to begin with ? Modern 
 biology is forced to the assumption that organic life had a 
 beginning on earth, and that the first creations arose from 
 inorganic matter, spontaneously, through parentless genera- 
 embrace "only man and the most highly-organized animals," rather than 
 to extend the definition to meet the facts. Neither the human nor the ani- 
 mal mind would suffer should we attribute soul to plants. An inadequate 
 definition alone would suffer. 
 
100 THE ONTOLOOICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 tion. Whence did psychical life arise ? Is the first feeling 
 in the first protoplasmic particle something absolutely 
 new, something that did not exist before in any form, of 
 which not the slightest trace was to be found before ? 
 That, of course, would be an absolute "world-riddle"; it 
 would mean a creation out of nothing, and would baffle 
 the natural scientist as much as if he were expected to be- 
 lieve that the protoplasmic particle itself was created out of 
 nothing. But why does he not reject the inconceivable in 
 the former case just as he does in the latter ? He assumes 
 that organic bodies arise from pre-existing elements. 
 Entering into new and more complicated combinations, 
 these bodies are enabled to perform new and astonishing 
 functions. Why does he not make the same natural as- 
 sumption in this case as well, and say that an inner life 
 was already present in germ in the elements, and that it 
 developed into higher forms ? Indeed, hylozoism is a con- 
 ception which almost irresistibly forces itself upon modern 
 biology. We ought not to blame Haeckel for having the 
 courage to accept it as a necessary presupposition. Even 
 Büchner has accepted it ; he assumes " that not merely 
 physical but mental forces dwell in matter, and that these 
 manifest themselves whenever the necessary conditions 
 concur " (p. 66). 
 
 Still, the objection is urged : Is it not inconceivable that 
 lifeless, rigid matter should be the bearer of psychical life ? 
 And is not the very condition absent here, from which 
 alone our previous discussion inferred an inner life, 
 namely, an analogy between physical processes and those 
 of our own body ? Do we not miss here all spontaneous 
 activity, all activity coming from within ? 
 
 It seems to me that we are ourselves responsible for 
 this inconceivability, because we have formed an arbitrary 
 conception of matter. Having once defined matter as an 
 aggregate of atoms, of absolutely hard and rigid little 
 blocks that are moved without being determined from 
 within, by pressure and impact only, we naturally find it 
 inconceivable that matter should be determined from 
 within and should move by inner impulses. But what 
 compels us to form such a concept ? Surely not the facts. 
 
Chap I.] THE PARALLELISTIC THEORY. 101 
 
 They show us none of those absolutely rigid, inert, passive 
 atoms, awaiting an impact from without. On the contrary, 
 they show us parts of matter with spontaneous activity 
 issuing from within. This activity is not necessarily iso- 
 lated ; it is related to its environment. A drop of water 
 falls to the ground. What pushes or pulls it ? Its weight 
 or the law of gravitation? That, however, is nothing but 
 the subsequent formulation of its behavior. In falling, it 
 assumes the shape of a sphere. What compels the parts 
 to arrange themselves in such a way ? It falls upon a stone 
 and runs over the surface or penetrates the infinitesimal 
 crevices of its structure. Is it forced to do this from with- 
 out ? Its temperature falls below the freezing-point : the 
 parts of our drop are arranged in the form of a pretty ice- 
 flower. Are they pushed into this form by some external 
 force ? We see nothing of the kind ; they arrange them- 
 selves entirely spontaneously into that form, and just as 
 spontaneously return to the liquid condition when the 
 temperature rises. Or, they come in contact with a piece 
 of iron ; this is soon covered with a yellow rust : its ele- 
 ments have freed themselves from their previous combi- 
 nation, and unite with the oxygen and hydrogen of the 
 water to form a new compound, hydroxide. Here, too, 
 nothing whatever is seen of an external compulsive force. 
 Chemists speak of attraction, a term with which physicists, 
 too, have been familiar since Newton's day. Thus the facts, 
 as it were, extort recognition, at least a verbal recognition, 
 even from the reluctant and the dissenting. 
 
 Spontaneous activity everywhere ! Your inert, rigid 
 matter, movable only by impact, is a phantom that owes 
 its existence, not to observation, but to conceptual specu- 
 lation. It comes from the Aristotelian-scholastic philos- 
 ophy, which, after having completely separated all force or 
 form from matter, left the latter behind as something 
 absolutely passive. Descartes gets it from this source ; 
 it was a concept convenient to his purely mathematical 
 conception of physics : Matter is without all inner deter- 
 mination, pure res externa, whose only quality is exten- 
 sion. Modern natural science has utterly discarded the 
 idea of such absolutely dead and rigid bodies. Its 
 
102 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 molecules and atoms are forms of the greatest inner com- 
 plexity and mobility. Hundreds and thousands of atoms 
 are united in the molecule into a system that preserves a 
 more or less stable equilibrium by the mutual interaction 
 of its parts, and at the same time is quickened by other 
 movements — by such as are felt by us as light and heat, and 
 others, which appear in electrical processes. And this 
 system, in turn, is in constant interaction with its immediate 
 surroundings as well as with the remotest system of fixed 
 stars. Is it then absurd to ask whether we have, correspond- 
 ing to this wonderful play of physical forces and movements, 
 a system of inner processes, analogous to that which accom- 
 panies the working of the parts in the organic body ? May 
 not attraction and repulsion, of which physics and chem- 
 istry speak, be more than mere words ; is there not an ele- 
 ment of truth in the speculation of old Empedocles that 
 love and hate form the motive forces in all things ? Cer- 
 tainly not love and hatred as men and animals experience 
 them, but something at bottom similar to their feelings, an 
 impulsive action of some kind. 
 
 Philosophers have always shown a weakness for this 
 thought, and that too, not merely fantastic dreamers, but 
 such cautious thinkers as Spinoza and Leibniz, Fechner 
 and Lotze, and, among contemporaries, Wundt ; all of them, 
 men who cannot be accused of being antagonistic to a 
 natural-scientific or mechanical conception of things. It is 
 worthy of notice that this thought is beginning to find ac- 
 ceptance even among natural scientists. Permit me to 
 offer a few examples. 
 
 In his thoughtful treatise on the limits of natural scien- 
 tific knowledge (reprinted in the appendix to the work, 
 Die mechanisch-physiologische Theorie der Abstammungslehre, 
 1884), the botanist C. v. Naegeli positively embraces the 
 theory of panpsychism. He holds that, just as there is no 
 absolute chasm between organic and inorganic matter, 
 there is none between animate and inanimate bodies. The 
 natural scientist must assume that that which appears in 
 the more complicated forms is contained in germ in the ele- 
 ments. The analogy existing between physical phenomena 
 makes it necessary to assume the presence of inner pro- 
 
Chap. I.] THE PARALLELISTIC THEORY. 103 
 
 cesses. " Sensation is clearly connected with the reflex ac- 
 tions of higher animals. We are obliged to concede it to 
 the other animals also, and we have no grounds for denying 
 it to plants and inorganic bodies. The sensation arouses 
 in us a condition of comfort and discomfort. In general, 
 the feeling of pleasure arises when the natural impulses 
 are satisfied, the feeling of pain, when they are not satis- 
 fied. Since all material processes are composed of move- 
 ments of molecules and elementary atoms, pleasure and 
 pain must have its seat in these particles. Sensation is a 
 property of the albuminous molecules ; and if it belongs 
 to these, we are obliged to concede it to the other substan- 
 ces also. If the molecules possess anything even remotely 
 akin to sensation, they must have a feeling of comfort when 
 they can obey the law of attraction or repulsion, the law 
 of their own inclination or aversion ; a feeling of discom- 
 fort, however, when they are compelled to make contrary 
 movements. Thus the same mental thread runs through 
 all material phenomena. The human mind is nothing but 
 the highest development on our earth of the mental pro- 
 cesses which universally animate and move nature." 
 
 Fr. Zöllner expresses the same thought. In a treatise 
 on the general properties of matter (in his work, lieber die 
 Natur der Kometen, 3d edition, pp. 105 ff.) he discusses the 
 preconditions essential to an understanding of nature. He 
 finds that sensations offer us the alternative " either forever 
 to forego the possibility of understanding nature, or hypo- 
 thetically to increase the general properties of matter by 
 adding such a one as will bring the simplest and most ele- 
 mentary occurrences in nature under a process of sensation 
 uniformly connected with them." He finds that we restrict 
 the faculty of sensation to more highly-organized matter, 
 merely because the material for our induction is by far too 
 insufficient. " If by virtue of more finely-developed sense- 
 organs we were able to observe the molecular movements 
 of organized groups of a crystal which has met with violent 
 injury at some point, we should probably reject our judg- 
 ment as uncertain, or at least as very hypothetical, that its 
 movements occur absolutely without simultaneously arous- 
 ing sensations." He amplifies this thought as follows : 
 
104 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 "All acts of natural beings are determined by the feelings 
 of pleasure and pain, and in such a way that the move- 
 ments within a distinct field of phenomena seem to pursue 
 the unconscious purpose of reducing the amount of pain 
 to a minimum." In all material processes, either potential 
 energy is transformed into active energy, or the reverse 
 occurs. If we assume that the former occurrence is con- 
 nected with pleasure, the latter with pain, then a diminu- 
 tion of pain would take place whenever the amount of col- 
 lisions in a system in motion is reduced to a minimum. 
 And the tendency would have to be in that direction, if 
 feelings are to have practical significance. 
 
 The circumstance which impels us to this view from 
 the natural-scientific side is the fact that we cannot tear 
 the organic and inorganic worlds apart ; they form one uni- 
 tary whole. Since biology has rejected vital force as a 
 special principle alongside of physical forces in organic 
 bodies, life had to be assigned to the elementary parts of 
 which the organism consists. There is now no longer any 
 fundamental difference between the two forms of the cor- 
 poreal world. Ultimately the same forces act in inorganic 
 as well as in organic bodies, only in the latter case they 
 appear in extremely peculiar and intricate combinations. 
 Nor is there any difference in the form of the activity : 
 all bodies are moved by inner forces, but on occasion 
 of an external stimulus. In the case of organic bodies, 
 we are in the habit of emphasizing the inner force, on ac- 
 count of the difference that obtains between the stimulus 
 and the effect, while in the case of inorganic bodies we 
 emphasize the external cause. But there is no essential 
 difference. When the excitation of the auditory nerve 
 causes an animal to start up, the act is as much a mechani- 
 cal effect of purely physical causes as when a billiard-ball 
 in motion sets another in motion by impact. If, now, the 
 movements are accompanied by sensations in the one case, 
 no reason can be seen why they should not be, in the 
 other. 
 
 Indeed, an old prejudice simply hinders many physi- 
 cists from seeing this. Du Bois-Keymond most emphati- 
 cally rejects the notion of vital force : the particles of mat- 
 
€hap. L] THE PARALLEL1STIC THEORY. 105 
 
 ter in the organisms have no new forces ; the same forces 
 are active here that are active elsewhere. Hence " the di- 
 vision between the so-called organic and inorganic worlds 
 is wholly arbitrary. Those who try to uphold it, who 
 present the erroneous doctrine of vital force, under what- 
 ever form or deceptive guise it may be, — such men, let them 
 rest assured of it, have never advanced to the limits of our 
 knowledge." * It seems to me, we shall not wrong the 
 celebrated physiologist, if we maintain that the limits of 
 our knowledge of nature are not to be found even where he 
 has set them with his ignorahimus. If he is right in his 
 assertion that no new forces are added in the living body, 
 he is not right in saying that an absolutely new, hitherto 
 unheard-of element enters into existence with the first 
 sensation of an animal body. 
 
 In additioQ to these natural-philosophical reflections 
 other reasons impel us nowadays to the theory of panpsy- 
 chism, namely, the epistemological considerations which 
 have begun gradually to undermine the old naive realism 
 even among the physicists. If bodies are phenomena, 
 the representations of reality in our sensibility, which 
 do not as such possess absolute but relative existence, 
 the question arises, What is that which appears, in itself ? 
 Or does it possess relative existence only? Is the cor- 
 poreal world a pure phantasmagoria in my consciousness ? 
 No one has ever believed or will ever believe that. Hence, 
 that which appears to us as a body must be something 
 in and for itself. What is it in itself? That we cannot 
 know, replies Kant. But in one respect at least we know 
 it : everybody knows something about himself ; he knows 
 what he is ; he knows, besides, that he appears to others 
 and to himself as an organic body ; he knows himself as a 
 feeling, willing, sensible, thinking being. And this it 
 is that he calls his real self, and from this standpoint 
 he interprets the world outside of himself : analogous 
 phenomena point to analogous inner being. To every body 
 which, like his, appears as a relatively complete system 
 of phenomena and activities, he ascribes a relatively com- 
 plete inner life like his own. We all attribute soul to 
 * Du Bois-Reymond, Reden, n. 17. 
 
106 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book!. 
 
 man and to animals. The philosopher says that there is» 
 no reason for stopping here, nay, no possibility of it ; for 
 the assertion that certain objects are merely bodies leads 
 to the untenable theory of illusionism. At the same 
 time, he has the courage to express the parodox : All 
 bodies are animated : omnia, quamvis diversis gradibus, ani- 
 mata. A plant is a living being, hence a psycho-physical 
 system ; a cell is, in a certain sense, an independent living 
 being, hence the same holds true of it ; a molecule is a 
 relatively complete system of corporeal phenomena, a 
 plurality of parts most intimately correlated, and inter- 
 acting in manifold ways, and, at the same time, a whole 
 related to its surroundings. This system of bodily pro- 
 cesses will have to be interpreted as pointing to a system 
 of inner processes. We cannot imagine this inner world 
 in concreto, but we construct it graphically in outline as 
 coextensive with the physical world. 
 
 I shall touch upon another point in this place, and shall 
 approach it from another side later on. Is there a higher, 
 more comprehensive psychical life than that which we ex- 
 perience, just as there is a lower one ? Our body em- 
 braces the cells as elementary organisms. We assume 
 that in the same way our psychical life embraces the 
 inner life of the elementary forms, embracing in it their 
 conscious and unconscious elements. Our body again is 
 itself part of a higher unity, a member of the total life of 
 our planet, and together with the latter, articulated with a 
 more comprehensive cosmical system, and ultimately artic- 
 ulated with the All. Is our psychical life also articulated 
 with a higher unity, a more comprehensive system of con- 
 sciousness? Are the separate heavenly bodies, to start 
 with, bearers of a unified inner life ? Are the stars, is the 
 earth an animated being ? The poets speak of the earth- 
 spirit ; is that more than a poetic metaphor? The Greek 
 philosophers, among them Plato and Aristotle, speak of 
 astral spirits ; is that more than the last reflection of a 
 dream of childish fancy ? * 
 
 *It seems that there is a historical connection between the Earth- 
 spirit in Goethe's powerful drama, which embraces heaven, earth, and the 
 lower world, and the planet-souls of Greek philosophy. It is brought 
 
Chap. L] THE PARALLELIST1C THEORY. 107 
 
 It would be presumptuous foolishness to treat of these 
 subjects in dogmatic definitions and arguments. Still, it 
 seems to me, a negative dogmatism is equally out of place. 
 To him who knows the earth solely from his globe as a 
 pasteboard sphere, or from his book as a huge lump with 
 a fiery, liquid interior and a thin rigid crust, — to him, of 
 course, the question itself will seem ridiculous and absurd. 
 On the other hand, he who lives in the real world him- 
 self, will not, if he is at all endowed with a little imagina- 
 tion, find it so difficult to conceive the world as a large 
 animated being. Fechner's whole soul is given to that 
 thought. With ever-changing expressions he urges his 
 contemporaries, at last to awake from their sleep and 
 to contemplate objects with a clear eye. Does not the 
 earth really live a universal life ? Are not all its parts, 
 the liquid interior and the firm crust, the ocean and 
 the atmosphere, comprehended into a great whole whose 
 parts interact in manifold ways and yet in harmony ? 
 Ebb and flow, day and night, summer and winter, are 
 they not life-rhythms, similar to those which the indi- 
 vidual life experiences, or rather, do not animals and 
 plants with their little rhythmical vital processes take part 
 in the great life of the earth ? Is not the life of the earth 
 mirrored in their sleep and waking, their bloom and wither- 
 ing, their origin and decay ? Forsooth, the earth is not 
 merely a point of support, on which living beings, like 
 grains on the barn-floor, accidentally meet each other, but 
 the womb from which they proceed. The animal and plant 
 worlds are products of the earth, they remain members 
 and organs of its life as much as cells are members and 
 organs of the body. The geologist interprets the history 
 of the earth from the traces of the organic beings which 
 it produced in every epoch ; the geographer describes the 
 earth by means of the most characteristic living forms in 
 every zone. These determine the impression which the 
 
 about by the fantastic cosmological speculations of natural philosophers of 
 the sixteenth century like Paracelsus and Agrippa of Nettesheim from 
 whom Goethe-Faust gets the astral spirits and the entire magical-spiritual- 
 istic conception of nature, or with whom he shares these views as a con- 
 temporary. 
 
108 THE ONTOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 earth makes on the mind, and in a considerable measure 
 also determine its very shape. Their life is a partial pro- 
 cess of the total life ; matter runs in a continuous stream 
 through the organic bodies. Why should not the being 
 which produces all living and animated beings and harbors 
 them as parts of its life, itself be alive and animated? 
 
 Of course, such reflections will make little impression 
 on one whose mind is not open to the inner life of things. 
 He will say : Show me the brain and the nerves of 
 the earth, and I will believe in its soul. Indeed ? If the 
 earth-body had a particular brain of its own besides all 
 animal brains, and eyes and ears, and a heart and stomach, 
 and arms and legs, and skin and hair, then would you take 
 it for an animate being? But consider what an absurd 
 thing such an earth would be. An animal needs a mouth 
 and a stomach ; the earth as a whole does not need them, 
 for it does not need to take up substances from with- 
 out. An animal needs eyes and ears, in order to pursue its 
 prey and to escape its pursuers ; but the earth neither pur- 
 sues nor is pursued. The animal needs a brain and nerves 
 in order to adapt its movements to its environment ; the 
 earth finds its way through the universe without such help. 
 
 But, you say, its motion is apparently purely physically 
 conditioned ; it obeys the law of gravitation with uniform 
 periodicity. "What else should it do ? What motion would 
 be more fitted to obtain for it what it needs : light and 
 heat in different amounts and in rhythmical periods, in 
 order to develop and to mature the life peculiar to it ? Or 
 ought it to wander hither and thither, and at times lie idle 
 like an animal ? Please do not ask it to do what is con- 
 trary to its nature and cosmical position. It surely has 
 diversified and irregular movements enough on its surface, 
 — movements occurring in air and water, in plant and animal 
 bodies. It has regulated its relations to the external world 
 in the most beautiful and becoming manner. Or does the 
 uniformity of movement as such exclude the hypothesis 
 that that which is moved is the bearer of states of con- 
 sciousness? If so, there is no such thing as an animated 
 body for our physiologists, and especially not for the mate- 
 rialistic philosophers among them, for do they not strenu- 
 
Chap. I.] TEE PARALLELISTIG THEORY. 109 
 
 ously insist that all vital processes must be reduced to the 
 uniform movements of the smallest particles? 
 
 I shall forego any further elaboration of this matter. 
 Whoever wishes to pursue the subject will find in Fechner's 
 Zend-Avesta a most helpful guide. In ever-changing figures 
 he represents to the reader the earth as a unitary being, in 
 which, as in every organic body, plurality and unity inter- 
 penetrate and condition each other. " The earth is a crea- 
 ture combined into a unitary whole in form and substance, 
 in purpose and effect, self-sufficient in its individuality, 
 complete in its cycles, relatively independent of other sim- 
 ilar but not identical creatures, evolving itself out of itself 
 under the stimulus and co-determination of an external 
 world, producing out of its own fulness and creative power 
 an inexhaustible manifoldness of effects now recurring reg- 
 ularly, now baffling calculation, developing a system of 
 inner freedom in its passage through external necessity, 
 changing in particulars but permanent as a whole, like our 
 body. Nay, it is unspeakably more : it is that complete all 
 of which our body is but a member, it is that permanent 
 all of which our body is but a transitory part, it is to it 
 what the whole tree is to a single twig, a permanent body 
 to a perishable, small organ." (Zend-Avesta, I. 179.) 
 
 Fechner, of course, is fully aware of the fact that these 
 thoughts are not matters of scientific knowledge. We can- 
 not explain the organic life of a planet like that of a 
 plant, or describe its inner life like that of a man. Such 
 expositions are but indefinite ideal conceptions, which we 
 can never hope exactly to define or to supply with a con- 
 crete content. This is no place for real scientific work. 
 Still, they have their value : they remind us that the astro- 
 nomical-physical speculation is not the final and highest 
 view of things in general, even though it is the highest con- 
 ception which we can reach in scientific work. And in a 
 certain sense, they are suited to bridge over the chasm 
 between scientific and religious views. For, if the heavenly 
 bodies as such are bearers of a unified psychical life, in 
 which the psychical life of all partial beings is contained 
 as a factor, we shall have to go a step farther and regard 
 them in turn as members of a larger whole, of a cosmical, 
 
110 THE ONTOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 universal life. The old conception of a world-soul is the 
 natural keystone of this entire cosmology. Every corpo- 
 real system is the bearer or body of an inner life ; the uni- 
 versal system is the body or phenomenon of God. It is 
 true, our knowledge does not grasp him : faith determines 
 his essence with objective symbols. Still, this view de- 
 stroys the negative dogmatism of a purely physical view of 
 the world. 
 
 Kant had the same object in view. By explaining 
 nature as a phenomenon, he wished to clear the way for a 
 belief in a Supreme Being which manifests itself in nature. 
 But he ignored the intervening stages, he scorned to start 
 out from the given world. The sharp distinction which he 
 makes between phenomenon and thing-in-itself completely 
 demolishes the bridge between knowledge and faith. Fech- 
 ner rebuilds it ; he proceeds from the nearest and best 
 known, from the I and its two aspects, soul and body, and 
 advances steadily to the highest and most remote. 
 
 These are the consequences to which the parallelistic 
 theory of the relation between the physical and the psy- 
 chical is led. And thus, the materialistic view is overcome, 
 • — overcome, it is true, not in the sense of being altogether 
 false and groundless, for it is surely not that. Its demand 
 that everything that exists be explained physically is per- 
 fectly well founded, and this demand the view presented 
 by us fully satisfies. The physicist must still assume the 
 universe to be a physical nexus embracing the whole of 
 reality. Materialism, however, is vanquished, in so far as 
 it now appears to us as a one-sided view of existence that 
 can and must be supplemented. All corporeal reality 
 absolutely and universally points to an inner world like 
 the one which we experience in ourselves. And we will add : 
 The nature of reality, as it exists in and for itself, mani- 
 fests itself in the inner world, which, to tell the truth, is 
 immediately given to us only at one point, in self-con- 
 sciousness. Outside of that, we reach it by interpretation, 
 which is always uncertain, and beyond the animal world 
 we must depend on analogy and on an idealistic symbol- 
 ism. The corporeal world is at bottom but an accidental 
 
Chap. L] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. Ill 
 
 concept, an inadequate representation of existence in our 
 sensibility. 
 
 This is the fundamental conception of Idealism. From 
 the times of Plato to the present, it has been universally 
 characterized by the two propositions : The corporeal world 
 is phenomenal ; that which appears in it is something akin 
 to our own inner life. 
 
 Why is it that this view, which is so acceptable to phi- 
 losophers, appears so strange and incredible to popular 
 thought ? 
 
 The most immediate reason is, without doubt, that pop- 
 ular thought is governed by sense-perception. That alone 
 is real which is seen : what is not seen does not exist. Such 
 is the pattern according to which all its conclusions are 
 drawn. The same is true in the case at hand. We see 
 the outside : the inside we do not see ; we must add it 
 in thought. Wherever this inference is forced upon us by 
 the facts, we make it ; but wherever mere abstract consid- 
 erations invite us to draw the conclusion, popular thought 
 soon drops the thread. Popular thought instinctively 
 rejects the demand that it pass in thought beyond what is 
 given to that which the facts themselves suggest, as a fan- 
 tastical presumption, disturbing its peace. 
 
 In addition to this inertia of thought, there are positive 
 obstacles which block the way to the idealistic view. 
 These are, above all, false ideas of the nature and meta- 
 physical constitution of psychical life. The following two 
 sections will attempt to remove them. 
 
 6. The Nature of the Soul. Intellectualistic and Volunta- 
 ristie Psychology. The Unconscious. 
 
 The popular conception of the nature of mind is defi- 
 cient in two respects. It has a false idea (1) of the meta- 
 physical constitution of the soul, (2) of the phenomenological 
 content of soul-life. I shall consider the second point first. 
 
 Two kinds of psychical processes are to be found in 
 self-consciousness : ideas and volitions. Accordingly, we 
 ascribe to soul two phases, intelligence and wiU. As mani- 
 festations of intelligence we consider: sensation, percep- 
 
112 THE ONTOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 tion, presentation, and thinking ; as manifestations of will : 
 striving, impulse, desire, willing, and action, with their 
 accompanying emotions. 
 
 In German psychology, the old dichotomy has been 
 replaced by a trichotomy, thinking, feeling, and willing^ 
 which is not, as I think, favorable to a correct understand- 
 ing of psychic phenomena. This is not the place for a 
 detailed discussion of the subject ; I simply remark that it 
 is impossible to separate feeling and willing from each 
 other. On a primitive stage of development they are one : 
 there is no feeling that is not at the same time a will- 
 impulse, and no volition that is not felt in consciousness 
 as feeling. Only on the highest stage of psychical life, in 
 man, does a partial separation of feeling from willing occur. 
 The sesthetical feelings are almost entirely devoid of will- 
 impulses, that is, pure emotions without impulse. And to 
 a certain extent, the will is determined without the presence 
 of feeling : the rational will can determine its activity by 
 means of ideas of purpose, without and in opposition to 
 sensuous impulses. 
 
 If we adhere in principle to the dichotomy, the further 
 question arises : What is the relation between the two 
 sides of psychical life? Are both of them original, or is 
 one of them to be regarded as the primary and radical 
 activity, to which the other attaches itself as a secondary 
 development? Popular thought inclines to the conception 
 that presentation is the first and really characteristic func- 
 tion of the soul, while feeling and desire appear as an 
 incidental and secondary element, which occurs in some 
 cases as a secondary effect of the presentative process. 
 Whatever presentation characterizes as good or bad, the 
 will sets out to desire or to avoid. Psychology, too, fre- 
 quently holds this conception, which I shall call the intel- 
 lectualistic view. Herbart carried it out systematically. 
 His psychology is an attempt to derive all states of con- 
 sciousness from ideas and their relations. Ideas are, in his 
 opinion, the original elements of mind ; they persist, attract 
 and repel each other, obstruct each other and combine like 
 the elements of the corporeal world. It is the province of 
 psychology, he believes, to formulate the laws governing 
 
Chap. L] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 113 
 
 the action of these ideas, and to explain the other processes 
 by means of them. 
 
 Of late, psychology tends more and more to consider 
 will as the primary and constitutive function of mind ; in- 
 telligence, on the other hand, as a secondary evolution. 
 Schopenhauer is the leader of this movement. He sees in 
 will the fundamental function of the mind, which cannot be 
 derived from presentation, but originally arises without 
 presentation or intelligence, as a blind craving or impulse ; 
 only as development advances, does it learn to use intelli- 
 gence as its instrument.* 
 
 I have no doubt whatever that Schopenhauer with his 
 wonderful power of clear and penetrative intuition is a 
 better guide here than Herbart with his piercing acute- 
 ness, bent upon conceptual analysis and synthesis. Only 
 as long as we confine our attention to the processes in the 
 developed human consciousness, can it appear as though 
 presentation were the real content of consciousness, which 
 
 * Schopenhauer discusses this fundamental dogma of his philosophy in 
 the second book of his main work : it is the ingenious intuition of his 
 youth. All his writings aim to apply the principle to all the fields of 
 reality. A very clear exposition of the thought is given in the little treatise 
 on The Will in Nature. Modern psychology, which is more partial to bio- 
 logical views than its predecessor, is gradually approximating Schopen- 
 hauer's view. In this connection, W undt deserves special mention. Like 
 Schopenhauer, he regards the original activity of the soul as impulse, and 
 everywhere emphasizes the intimate connection between psychical pro- 
 cesses (including presentation) and will. — An acute discussion of the mental 
 life of animals from the same point of view is found in Gr. H. Schneider's 
 work, Der thierische Wille (1880). We may also point out that, in a certain 
 sense, Schopenhauer's theorem of the primacy of the will is anticipated by 
 Kant's doctrine of the primacy of practical reason. It is the reaction against 
 the view which overrated intellect, science, and theoretical culture, a view 
 that had dominated modern times since the epoch of the so-called restora- 
 tion of the sciences. To this great reaction, which begins with Rousseau 
 and culminates in Romanticism as the reaction against Enlightenment, both 
 Kant and Schopenhauer belong. The latter becomes the exponent of the 
 metaphysics of Romanticism by his doctrine of the absolute irrationality of 
 the world-principle. — We may also suggest that the great changes in the- 
 ology, or in the conception of the essence of religion, are most intimately 
 connected with this reaction. Rational theology or the speculative philos- 
 ophy of religion and intellectualistic psychology belong together, like posi- 
 tivistic theology and voluntaristic psychology. The recent change of front 
 in theology towards Positivism is connected with the voluntaristic psychol- 
 ogy of our times. 
 
114 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 is only occasionally interrupted by emotions and volitions. 
 "When we turn our attention to the whole living and ani- 
 mated world, it soon becomes evident how secondary is 
 the part of intelligence by the side of the will. 
 
 Within the lower animal world, no one will be apt to 
 regard the functions of the presentative side as forming the 
 essential content of consciousness. We cannot speak of 
 intelligence at all in the lowest forms of animal life. A 
 jelly-fish, a polyp, or an infusory, certainly does not pre- 
 sent anything to itself or think. It knows nothing of itself 
 or of the external world. Blind craving determines its vital 
 activities : scarcely otherwise than blind forces determine 
 motion in the inorganic world. As the water-drop falls, 
 that is, moves towards its goal, the earth's centre of grav- 
 ity, by the shortest road and with definite velocity, with- 
 out knowing anything about the earth and the law of gravi- 
 tation, or, as its parts group themselves according to a 
 definite pattern in crystallization, without an idea of the 
 geometric law ; so the living being acts and moves, almost 
 with the same certainty, towards its goal, — the preservation 
 of individual life and of the species. In neither case is the 
 objective aim at the same time a subjective purpose. The 
 animal knows nothing about itself and its life-conditions ; 
 nor does it know anything about its offspring and species. 
 Impulses and emotions are the inner concomitants of vital 
 processes, not foresight of aims and insight into means. 
 
 Gradually, in the progressive series of animal life, intel- 
 ligence is grafted upon the will. As the organism and its 
 functions become more complicated, as the relations to its 
 surroundings multiply, sense-organs and a nervous system 
 come into existence, and as their inner side we assume 
 sensation and perception. Instinctive movements are then 
 subjected to the guiding influence of perception. True, 
 the aim is not foreseen, nor is the activity recognized 
 and selected as a means. The bee knows nothing of the 
 brood and of winter, and has no insight into the processes 
 of nutrition ; she is guided in all her activity, in her search 
 for blossoms, the construction of her cells, the feeding of 
 her offspring, by perceptions and traces of recollection, 
 which are represented physiologically as nervous processes 
 
Chap. I.] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 115 
 
 and dispositions. In higher animals, memory is evolved 
 with brain, which first makes possible a primitive presen- 
 tative life. Not only the perception of the present, but also 
 the presentation of the past and the future now exerts an 
 influence on volition ; and, with this, deliberation and choice 
 ensue. 
 
 In man, at last, thinking is evolved : the ability to op- 
 erate with abstract ideas. While the animal conscious- 
 ness does not, as far as we can make out, rise above con- 
 crete associations, man, with the help of language, in which 
 the whole race objectifies its thought and renders it com- 
 municable, gains such mastery over perception that he 
 separates himself from it as a self, and opposes it to himself 
 as an object. Self-consciousness and objective conscious- 
 ness of the universe are correlatives. At the same time, he 
 surveys his life as a whole with an enlarged consciousness, 
 and in a measure determines its content by means of 
 thoughts, guiding ends, and principles. The will appears 
 here as saturated with intelligence ; a rational will has 
 been evolved from animal impulses. 
 
 Hence, if we survey the development as a whole, we can 
 say : The will is the original and, in a certain sense, con- 
 stant factor of soul-life ; at the end of the series, we find it 
 directed towards the same great aims as at the beginning — 
 preservation and evolution of individual life and of the 
 species. Intelligence is the secondary and variable factor, 
 which in the course of development is imparted to will as 
 an organ. 
 
 The same relation between will and intelligence is ob- 
 served in the evolution of the individual, which obeys the 
 law of modern biology that the ontogenetic development 
 repeats the phylogenetic one. Every human being enters 
 the world as a blind will without intellect. The nursling 
 is all will ; forceful impulses express themselves in violent 
 movements; the acts are accompanied by vivid organic 
 feelings ; but the presentative side is still altogether want- 
 ing: the movements are blind reflexes and instinctive 
 movements. But soon intelligence unfolds itself, beginning 
 with the exercise of the senses. The touch sense begins 
 to act ; it first assumes the guidance of movements ; tactile 
 
116 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 sensations produce certain movements of the head, then 
 also of the hand ; and soon the other senses follow. With 
 memory and recollection in the form of recognition, pre- 
 sentation begins to evolve ; at last speech and thinking 
 arise, and this gradually becomes the highest, regulative 
 principle of action. Hence here, too, will is the primitive, 
 radical function, intelligence the instrument grafted upon 
 it in the course of life. 
 
 Schopenhauer finds his proposition confirmed by a 
 psychological investigation of the developed human soul. 
 The decisive fact is that it is the will and not the under- 
 standing which gives to life its purpose. It is the business 
 of the understanding to discover the ways and means to 
 the end at which the will aims. Every living being mani- 
 fests itself as a concrete will, determined in such and such 
 a way, directed towards such and such a life, towards such 
 and such a series of developments and activities. An eagle 
 or a lion is will directed towards this particular kind of 
 life : he desires it absolutely, not because of a knowledge 
 of its worth. Likewise man : he, too, desires to live a spe- 
 cific life absolutely, not because of a preceding knowledge 
 of its worth. As a concrete will, determined by his descent 
 from this particular people and this particular family, he 
 enters into existence. Knowing nothing of life and its 
 content, this germinal will keeps on generating new im- 
 pulses ; they follow each other like the impulses of a plant : 
 the impulse to walk, to climb, to speak, to play with horses 
 and soldiers, or with dolls and clothes, to build or to cook, 
 to hear and to tell stories, and to see and to understand 
 things. Then at last, at the end of boyhood, the love for 
 the other sex suddenly breaks out as a new unheard-of 
 impulse, and for a time constitutes the fundamental theme 
 of inner life. Gradually the impulses of manhood force 
 themselves into the foreground : work and acquisition, 
 position and fame for himself and his children, become the 
 great topics of a man's life, until finally, involution begins 
 and death closes the account. This entire evolution is not 
 effected by the activity of the foreseeing understanding ; 
 no one first plans his course of life and his development, 
 and then carries out his plan after the understanding has 
 
€hap. L] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 117 
 
 recognized its excellence ; but he experiences things and 
 is himself surprised how it all comes about. It is true, in a 
 sense, man anticipates his life and his ideas. The boy or 
 youth is inspired with an ideal, with a mission, which helps 
 to determine his development and activity. The ideal, 
 however, is not a product of the understanding, but of the 
 will which contemplates itself in its ideal. The under- 
 standing fashions no ideals, nor has it any feeling for 
 ideals ; it knows only the categories : real and unreal ; 
 worthy and unworthy are categories of the will. He whose 
 will is not susceptible to the ideal is not influenced by his 
 idea, be it ever so clear. The idea will act only on him, the 
 fundamental tendency of whose will is in harmony with his 
 ideal. 
 
 The primacy of the will, which is shown by the entire 
 content of man's life, is also revealed at every stage of 
 intellectual life. Everywhere the understanding is an in- 
 strument in the service of the will and surveys the envi- 
 ronment in order to discover how the will may reach its 
 end in the best and easiest manner. Interest, that is will, 
 universally manifests itself as the predominant element in 
 the world of ideas and its movements. This is a favorite 
 point in Schopenhauer's reflections. What is it that con- 
 stantly occupies the understanding of the multitude ? The 
 great business of espying advantages and warding off dis- 
 advantages. Purely theoretical interest is foreign and un- 
 known to them. Where the will is not concerned, the 
 understanding is at a loss what to do; they are "bored." 
 Elying from tedium, they seek excitement for the will in 
 society; gossip and calumny serve their purpose, and 
 when that topic is exhausted, gaming must come to their 
 rescue and fill out the idle hours with such trifling excite- 
 ments for the will as are provided by the shifting chances 
 of gain and loss. Only in a few men does the intellect at 
 times free itself from the dominion of the will, and in iso- 
 lated cases we observe the strange phenomenon that the 
 theoretical interest in objects altogether forces the practi- 
 cal interest into the background : this is what makes the 
 genius. Hence geniuses seem to the multitude to be 
 eccentric or insane ; for what is insanity but not to see or 
 
118 THE ONTOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 to ignore things that everybody else sees and seeks, and 
 to observe, instead, other things which the world does not 
 see ? 
 
 It is true, Schopenhauer's eloquence exaggerates the 
 truth, and he is sensible of it when he says elsewhere that 
 theoretical interest is not wholly wanting in any man ; in- 
 deed, the interest in metaphysics, religious or philosoph- 
 ical, is essential to man. Still, he is undoubtedly right in 
 holding that even ideas invariably receive their impetus 
 and direction from the will. This is universally true. The 
 will governs perception by determining the attention ; it 
 chooses among the stimuli which indiscriminately strike 
 the senses and arouse sensations. But that only enters 
 consciousness, or at least mainly that, which stands in 
 friendly or hostile relation to our purposes or problems. 
 The will governs the memory. We forget what does not 
 concern us ; we remember what is of lasting importance to 
 the will. The will governs the course of our ideas ; our 
 thoughts constantly gravitate towards the momentary cen- 
 tre of gravity of our interests ; we think of what is near 
 and dear to us, or hateful and threatening. The will con- 
 stantly influences the judgment ; it determines the weight 
 and importance of things and occurrences, reasons and 
 proofs. In practical affairs, all this is obvious : as soon as 
 interest or inclination has decided, reasons are straightway 
 discovered which justify the decision. But the will also 
 constantly exerts its influence on the theoretical judgment. 
 Think of the interpretation of history ! There is no im- 
 portant event of which there are not as many views and 
 expositions as there are parties to consider it. Take the 
 history of the Reformation or of the French Revolution I 
 Nay, even Csesar and Pericles are still subject to this law I 
 This shows what a decisive iniiuence the will exerts on 
 the construction of one's entire conception of the world. It 
 may be said, the will is the architect who determines the 
 form and style of the building; the intelligence simply 
 executes the plan. Religions very clearly exemplify this 
 truth. They universally mirror the will which creates 
 them ; the deepest disposition of a people is objectified in 
 the nature and will of its gods or its God. In philosophy, 
 
Chap. I.] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 119 
 
 too, this circumstance reveals itself. I shall return to this 
 subject later on. 
 
 This, then, is the conception of soul-life to which we are 
 carried by biological and psychological and historical con- 
 siderations. The original fact of every soul-life is a con- 
 crete, definitely-determined will. The original form of the 
 will is the impulse, whose bodily expression is an organic 
 sj^stem with active tendencies. In consciousness, the im- 
 pulse is felt as a craving, on a higher stage as desire for a 
 definite exercise of life. If the craving or desire is satis- 
 fied, a feeling of satisfaction arises, otherwise a feeling of 
 discomfort; in pleasurable and painful feelings, the will 
 becomes aware of itself, of its direction and of its momen- 
 tary condition, as well as of its relation to its environment. 
 Out of feeling, knowledge is gradually evolved. Sensation 
 is anticipated organic feeling. The sensation of taste antici- 
 pates the feelings which accompany the introduction of a 
 certain food into the body, and thus becomes an adviser 
 of the impulse for food ; smell which scents the prey from 
 afar may be designated as taste acting at a distance. The 
 senses of hearing and of sight stand in an analogous rela- 
 tion to the sense of touch ; they are, as it were, forms of 
 touching at a distance. The sense of touch informs the 
 will of its immediate surroundings, while hearing and sight 
 bring it into relation with the more remote surroundings. 
 They direct movements in the sense of adapting them to 
 attain what is favorable and to avoid what is injurious, only 
 that the eye is the searching pursuer, the ear the listening 
 watchman. Sensation and feeling are usually distinguished 
 as follows : the latter is a purely subjective modification of 
 our condition, while the former is the symbol of an object- 
 ive element. The distinction is a good one. Nevertheless, 
 the objective element is not altogether absent in feeling ; 
 every feeling of pleasure or of pain is not merely pleasure 
 and pain in general, but a definite feeling with a specific 
 content. And, on the other hand, the subjective element 
 is never wholly absent in sensation ; it is contained therein 
 as an accentuation of feeling, which points to its origin in 
 feeling. 
 
 Finally, presentation and thinking are a further develop- 
 
120 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 ment in the same direction. They still further extend the 
 relations of the will to its environment, above all by includ- 
 ing also what is distant in time. We might, indeed, define 
 understanding as the faculty of seeing in the given element 
 that which is not yet given, the faculty of anticipating 
 future phenomena from present phenomena, on the ground 
 of observed connections, in order to use them as motives 
 for present decisions. 
 
 This is the way in which a voluntaristic psychology 
 would describe the evolution and nature of consciousness. 
 Schopenhauer bases his idealistic metaphysics on such a 
 psychology. Indeed, I do not doubt that it is better fitted 
 for the purpose than an intellectualistic psychology. Who- 
 ever regards presentation and thinking as the fundamental 
 functions of the soul, will always find it impossible to con- 
 ceive plants as psychical beings, or to consider the move- 
 ments of inorganic bodies to be signs of psychical processes. 
 But if acts of will constitute the original form of psychical 
 processes, acts of will without presentation and without self- 
 consciousness, then the great chasm which separates the 
 thinking being from natural forces no longer exists. Then 
 we may assume that just as a system of impulses with 
 corresponding feelings runs parallel with the vital pro- 
 cesses in animal bodies, a similar but less highly developed 
 inner life corresponds to plant-life ; and furthermore, that 
 something akin to this appears in the spontaneous move- 
 ments» of inorganic bodies, in chemical and crystalline 
 processes, in processes of attraction and repulsion. And, 
 perhaps, common opinion will now discover that it came 
 very near this view, when it ascribed forces to ail bodies 
 alike as their inner essence ; and defined force as a 
 tendency to definite activity, and hence identical in its 
 general form with an unconscious will. 
 
 Let me add a remark concerning the relation of psychi- 
 cal processes to consciousness. Are psychical processes 
 always conscious processes, or are there also unconscious 
 elements in psychical life ? * 
 
 * Cf. Wundt, System der Philos., 551 ff. A mass of facts from the 
 field of unconscious psychical life is given by E. v. Hartmann in the first 
 volume of The Philosophy of the Unconscious, where the outlines of a history 
 of the doctrine of the unconscious are also to be found. 
 
€hap. I.] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 121 
 
 As far as I can see, no psychology can help but affirm 
 the latter question ; it must confess that the conscious 
 elements make up but a small portion of psychical life. 
 The processes in consciousness may be compared to the 
 waves which ruffle the surface of a pond. Only a small 
 part of the entire mass of water immediately takes part in 
 the motion of the waves. Yet the whole mass conditions 
 the waves and helps to determine the size and velocity of 
 the motion. Similarly, the processes of consciousness are 
 based on an unconscious or, if we choose, sub-conscious 
 psychical life which bears them, from which they rise, 
 and by which their action is determined. Popular lan- 
 guage universally and naively assumes this ; it constantly 
 reckons with such an unconscious element. We speak of 
 a man as possessing a thorough knowledge of the ancient 
 languages, not meaning, of course, that he is constantly 
 conscious of his vocabulary and grammar, which would 
 be an impossibility. We mean that he possesses them 
 unconsciously, but that they are always effective and could, 
 if necessary, be called into consciousness ; just as he pos- 
 sesses muscles and nerves, without always using them. 
 And in like manner, we speak of hopes and fears, of inclina- 
 tions and aversions, as constant though not always con- 
 scious constituents of psychical life, whose existence is 
 proved at every moment by the nature and the direction of 
 the conscious feelings and desires. 
 
 How are we to conceive of such an unconscious psychi- 
 cal life ? How can knowledge or willing exist, when it is 
 not in consciousness ? 
 
 Physiologists endeavor to make the matter clear to us 
 by saying : Unconscious ideas are not present as ideas ; an 
 unconscious idea would be an idea that is not presented, a 
 contradiction in terms ; but they are present as disposi- 
 tions of the ganglionic cells of the cortex. If an excitation 
 proceeding from a sense-organ is transmitted to the brain, 
 it is accompanied by a conscious process, say, by percep- 
 tion. When the excitation is past, the conscious state as 
 such completely vanishes, but a trace of the physiological 
 process remains behind as a permanent alteration of the 
 excited cells. That is really the unconscious presentation. 
 
122 THE ONTOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 If the area of the nervous substance, thus predisposed, is 
 re-excited by some excitation or other from within or with- 
 out, the presentation becomes conscious again. In this 
 way, physiologists hope to get around the disagreeable 
 concept of an unconscious presentation, and still to retain 
 what is an indispensable condition of understanding con- 
 scious processes.* 
 
 No objection can be raised against the physiological 
 explanation as such. We may accept it as certain that a 
 permanent alteration of the nervous structure is brought 
 about by excitations. On the other hand, however, this 
 does not settle the matter, at least not according to the 
 parallelistic theory of the relation between the psychical 
 and the physical, which we have established. We can- 
 not avoid attributing psychical existence to the unconscious 
 elements of the soul. We could not grant that the excita- 
 tion in the nervous system was the conscious state itself. 
 As little can we now admit that the definite organization 
 of a ganglionic cell is an unconscious presentation, or that 
 it can take its place. Unless we are willing to relinquish 
 our general view at this point, we are obliged to say : 
 Nervous modifications have physical effects, not psychical 
 ones ; they may determine the course of re-aroused nervous 
 excitations, but not the nature and the course of presenta- 
 tion. Psychical effects presuppose psychical causes ; if 
 these causes are not in consciousness, we must define them 
 as unconscious psychical elements and these must therefore 
 exist ; for, non entis nullus effectus. But, whoever undertakes 
 to explain the processes of the association and the repro- 
 duction of ideas by means of neural paths, can also derive 
 
 * Among physiologists it is especially the Englishman Maudsley who in 
 his Physiology and Pathology of Mind dwells on the indispensability of as- 
 suming an unconscious psychical life, and then declares : The unconscious 
 elements are arrangements of the brain. From this he infers that a psychol- 
 ogy which does not operate with such brain-arrangements is worthless. So 
 he finds fault with J. S. Mill for continuing to employ the old worn-out 
 introspective method instead of the objective physiological method. I 
 should like to know how much a person who studies it only from the writ- 
 ings of the brain-physiologists would know of the mental life of man. As 
 far as I can see, brain-physiology as yet contains nothing but problems; it 
 presents no solutions, not even physiological solutions, much less psycho- 
 logical ones. 
 
Chap. L] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 123 
 
 all psychical processes from processes of motion, and con- 
 versely. He returns to the theory of the influxus pliysicus. 
 
 The question, however, How can an "unconscious " pres- 
 entation exist, might be answered : Not otherwise than a 
 sound which is not heard, or a color that is not seen, or a 
 body that is not perceived by any one. Everybody as- 
 sumes that a brain with nerve-cells and their arrangements 
 exists in his skull, although neither he himself nor any one 
 else has ever seen it. He is convinced that one might see 
 it under certain circumstances, and, therefore, he says : It 
 exists. If the existence of ganglionic cells and their mod- 
 ifications consists in the possibility of being perceived, we may 
 say: In this, too, consists the existence of unconscious 
 ideas, in the possibility of becoming conscious. They are 
 potential inner perceptions, just as the aforesaid physical 
 elements are potential external perceptions. 
 
 We can also say, however, and perhaps that is the most 
 suitable way of conceiving the subject : The unconscious is 
 not an absolutely non-conscious, but only a less conscious 
 state, a conscious state that is perhaps completely im- 
 perceptible. For from every point we are led to assume 
 quantitative differences in consciousness. Two occurrences 
 are simultaneously perceived : with rapt attention I watch 
 a race and at the same time occasionally notice the sport 
 of the flies in the air. The perceptions relating to the former 
 occurrence are undoubtedly more intensely conscious. 
 Similarly, there are gradual differences in unconsciousness, 
 if we are permitted to use the term. An event which vividly 
 excited me a quarter of an hour ago is now no longer in my 
 consciousness ; I am thinking of other matters. Still, its 
 after-effect remains behind in the mood which it aroused, 
 and this event is immediately called up into consciousness 
 again by the aid of some association or other. It is no 
 longer a conscious element, yet not as unconscious as an 
 occurrence that happened to me three months or ten years 
 ago, which I can recall only with effort and which I re- 
 member very indistinctly or perhaps not at all. And in 
 addition to this, we may remark that the intensity of con- 
 sciousness not only differs for the separate elements, but 
 that it also fluctuates as a whole. Moments of clear and 
 
124 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 -comprehensive consciousness alternate with those of narrow 
 and dull consciousness. There are daily fluctuations cor- 
 responding to vegetative processes. To these must be 
 added the fluctuations which accompany the development of 
 life as a whole. Consciousness rises from a minimum at the 
 beginning of life to a maximum, which is reached, say, when 
 the body is fully matured, and then declines, slowly at first, 
 then rapidly. Accordingly, we may say : The unconscious 
 is not something which does not at all exist for conscious- 
 ness; it is the less conscious in its different gradations 
 down to complete imperceptibleness. Psychical life is 
 made up of the sum of conscious and unconscious elements. 
 The processes in consciousness are at any given moment de- 
 termined by the co-operation of all elements, from the most 
 conscious down to the completely forgotten, which, how- 
 ever, in so far as they have determined the condition of 
 psychical life, have not become altogether inefficient and 
 unreal. 
 
 Should a physiologist, however, find difficulties in the 
 physiological interpretation of this view, believing that 
 consciousness can arise as a concomitant, only upon an 
 excitation of brain-cells, and that unexcited paths are not 
 bearers of states of consciousness in however weakened a 
 form we may conceive these, I should reply : What hinders 
 us from thinking that all the cells of the cortex are con- 
 stantly in activity ? Indeed, we are carried to such a notion 
 from all sides. A ganglionic cell is doubtless not to be 
 looked upon as an atom at rest, but as the bearer of a system 
 of the most diverse, never-resting internal movements. 
 Disintegration and integration, interaction with the neigh- 
 boring and more remote surroundings, constantly take 
 place, and in every activity the inner constitution and or- 
 ganization of the cell is expressed. A reduced amount of 
 consciousness would thus correspond to the reduced activ- 
 ity. I should think that this view would be the very 
 thing for the physiologist. The other conception that 
 only a few elements have psychical existence, would seem 
 to me to be harder to explain. If the physiological pro- 
 cesses in the cortex are at all accompanied by psychical 
 states, we must expect an exceedingly complicated play of 
 
Chap. I.] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 125 
 
 such states and not merely the few processes which consti- 
 tute the thin " thread of presentation " spoken of by psychol- 
 ogists. Or shall we say that at a given moment of time only 
 some cells are excited and in action, the rest meanwhile 
 lying idle and inactive, like grains of sand on the beach ? 
 And if that is inconceivable, why should their excitation 
 have no psychical effect ? 
 
 Impartial reflection cannot leave us in doubt that 
 psychical life at any given moment exhibits a highly- 
 diversified and complicated mass of more or less con- 
 scious processes, and not merely the scanty monomial series 
 which, as some psychologists maintain, is all that the 
 " narrowness of consciousness " will allow. I am seated in 
 a theatre, watching the performance of a play. Numerous 
 psychical processes are enacted simultaneously, appearing 
 in consciousness with more or less intensity. I have 
 auditory sensations ; they occur in long series. Those be- 
 come most prominent which I apprehend as the speeches 
 of the actors and translate into ideas and thoughts, but be- 
 sides these I also hear the footsteps on the stage, the 
 rustle of the clothes, and my own as well as my neighbors* 
 movements. Simultaneously with these perceptions, an 
 equally complicated series of visual sensations arises. I 
 survey the entire stage with its decorations and settings, I 
 see the motions and the mimic play of the actors. The fore- 
 ground is filled with the heads and hats of the persons in 
 front of me : these, too, I see to the extent of being attracted 
 by any conspicuous movement. The two series run par- 
 allel, not in such a way that their members relieve one 
 another intermittently, but each series is complete in itself, 
 even though certain members, now of the one, now of the 
 other, preponderate in consciousness. The two series form 
 the basis of the main series, which has most consciousness 
 and impresses itself most deeply : the series of ideas per- 
 taining to the drama itself with its action and characters. At 
 each moment that group of ideas occupies the foreground 
 which is suggested by the particular speech or answer 
 heard at this particular time. However, not merely the 
 word or sentence just uttered is present in consciousness ; 
 besides this, all preceding occurrences are present with 
 
126 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 diminished intensity. Indeed, the separate word or sentence 
 as such has no definite meaning at all, it is understood 
 only because it is comprehended as a part of the whole, as 
 the speech of a particular person to some other person on 
 a particular occasion. A consciousness that could hold 
 only one idea at a time would not be capable of compre- 
 hending even a speech, much less a play. At the same 
 time, diverse feelings are present in my consciousness: 
 feelings of tension or tedium, of exaltation or contempt, 
 of aesthetic satisfaction or of discomfort. Nor are these 
 interspersed with the members of the perception and pre- 
 sentation series ; they constitute an independent combina- 
 tion which gains more or less prominence in consciousness. 
 Finally, the constant background of this play of conscious 
 states is formed by a mass of tactile and muscular sensa- 
 tions, by means of which I become aware of the position, 
 attitude, and movement of my body and its parts. They 
 are accompanied by an equally great number of common 
 feelings, which hardly enter consciousness as isolated 
 states, but which, in their totality, as common or vital feel- 
 ings constitute the basis of an entire world of feelings : 
 fatigue and languor, or freshness and elasticity, feelings of 
 satisfied comfort pervading the entire system, or disturbing 
 feelings of heat or cold, of exhaustion or satiety and indis- 
 position, etc. 
 
 All these states are simultaneously in consciousness, 
 and in addition to that, they are accompanied by the con- 
 sciousness that they belong to this individual psychical life. 
 I am always aware of who I am, whence I come, in what 
 position and surroundings I live, what tasks and duties I 
 have to perform. This knowledge is not a separate object 
 of attention or reflection, but yet it is present as something 
 that is always at hand, present in every conscious state as 
 the ego. 
 
 Consciousness represents such a content at any given 
 moment. A large number of elements are simultaneously 
 conscious ; though, of course, not equally conscious. A 
 narrow group always occupies the centre as the most con- 
 scious ; around it are grouped the rest, the intensity of 
 whose consciousness rapidly diminishes in the beginning. 
 
Chap. I.] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 127 
 
 The constellation, however, lasts but a moment ; the maxi- 
 mum of consciousness is, as it were, movable ; like a wave 
 it runs over the many elements, raising now this, now that 
 element to the highest point. 
 
 With Wundt we may compare the content of conscious- 
 ness to the content of the field of vision. A large mass 
 of objects is simultaneously in the field of vision ; a small 
 portion of them occupies the point of clearest vision and is 
 seen with greatest distinctness ; the others are also seen, 
 but with a distinctness which diminishes with their distance 
 from the point of clearest vision. When we look at an open 
 book, we survey the entire page with its characters ; we see 
 also the surroundings, the table, and the objects lying on 
 it, until finally, at the margin of the field of vision, the 
 images of the objects become entirely indistinct. Nor do 
 we see the page and its letters with equal distinctness. 
 If we fix the eye upon a particular letter and try to recog- 
 nize the adjacent letters without moving the eye, we shall 
 find that we can scarcely see the third or fourth letter on 
 either side of it with clearness. The rest are seen only as 
 an indistinct mass, except that we can distinguish, say, a 
 big letter by itself, or a word printed in heavy type, or half a 
 line, without, however, recognizing the separate characters. 
 But the eye when left to itself will not remain fixed on one 
 point ; passing over the lines, it brings the separate char- 
 acters upon the point of clearest vision in rapid succession, 
 but for a moment only, and thus obtains a distinct image 
 of the whole. 
 
 The same is true of consciousness. Here too, we have 
 a wide field of vision, filled with numerous elements, con- 
 taining a fovea, which is occupied at every moment by a 
 narrow content ; around it are grouped the other contents 
 presented with rapidly-diminishing distinctness, until the 
 outlines gradually vanish at the margin. Here, too, the 
 fovea is movable ; it hurries over the objects, raises up 
 one after another, and thus obtains a view of the whole. 
 As there are different degrees of illumination in the field 
 of vision dependent on the amount of light that strikes 
 an object so there are degrees of intensity in conscious- 
 ness. 
 
128 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 7. The Nature of the Soul, its Metaphysical Constitution, and 
 its Seat in the Body. 
 
 In circles that do not accept materialism, something 
 like the following conception of the essence of the soul pre- 
 vails. The soul is a simple, unextended, immaterial sub- 
 stance ; as such it is absolutely persistent and imperishable ; 
 it is the bearer of forces by which it effects states of con- 
 sciousness ; and, finally, it is situated at a certain point in 
 the brain, at which point it exchanges effects with the body. 
 This view, as Wundt shows,* is the teaching of Wolffian phi- 
 losophy, which dominated general culture during the Illumi- 
 nation, and goes back to Descartes. In this respect, as 
 well as in other points, Descartes' philosophy has prevailed 
 in spite of Spinoza and Kant. Its advantage lies in the 
 fact that it is within easy reach of popular thought and its 
 convenient notions. 
 
 I share the conviction of Fechner and Wundt that this 
 view is not tenable or even possible. There is no persist- 
 ent, immaterial substance existing for itself. The essence 
 of the soul consists in psychical life ; if we subtract the 
 psychical processes, no substance remains behind. The 
 soul-atom is nothing but the survival of a worn-out meta- 
 physics. 
 
 Our epistemological reflections will bring us back to the 
 notion of substance later on. In this place, I have only the 
 following to say. The immaterial and persistent soul-sub- 
 stance is not an object of immediate perception, neither of 
 inner nor of outer perception. Changing states and pro- 
 cesses only are given in self-consciousness ; the persistent 
 substance is an addition of thought. What forces us to make 
 this addition ? The advocates of the theory say : The 
 immediate necessity of our thought obliges us to do it. A 
 sensation, a feeling, or a thought cannot exist by itself any 
 more than a movement ; these presuppose a bearer, and that 
 is the substance. States of consciousness, however, cannot 
 be attached to a corporeal substance. Try, in your imag- 
 ination, to attach a feeling or an idea to an atom or a group 
 of atoms, and you will see the impossibility of the task. 
 
 * In the essay: Gehirn und Seele, in his Essays (1885), pp. 89 ff. 
 
Chap. L] THE NATURE OF THE 80 UL. 129 
 
 The indivisible will not stick to the extended and divisible. 
 Consequently, we are obliged to assume an unextended or 
 simple substance as the bearer of psychical life. In this 
 way alone does its inner unity become conceivable and in- 
 telligible. 
 
 It is doubtless true that a feeling or a thought cannot 
 be attached to an extended body. But now make the 
 same attempt with unextended substance ; try to imagine 
 the idea, for example, of the Tower of Babel, or of Dar- 
 winism and its Relation to Religion and Morality, as attached 
 to an unextended substance. I believe you will feel the im- 
 possibility of the task. Perhaps it will be said : Of course 
 the relation cannot be made plain, it is only thinkable. A 
 substance without extension cannot be imagined. Well, 
 then, I should like to know in what the content of this sub- 
 stance consists. In immateriality and simplicity ? These 
 are pure negations that deny but do not affirm anything. 
 We cannot make realities out of negations. Or does the 
 content consist in feeling and thinking themselves? But, 
 according to the theory, feeling and thinking are mere acci- 
 dents, passing activities of the soul-substance, and what we 
 desire to know is what the latter is in and for itself. Or does 
 the essence of the substance consist of its accidents ? Good ; 
 then we agree ; then, indeed, we have reached the view : The 
 essence of the soul consists in its life, consists in its feel- 
 ings and thoughts alone. — Or, is the soul-substance an un- 
 known something or other, eternally remaining behind the 
 scenes, something to be determined neither by intuition nor 
 thought, a " thing-in-itself ? " If that is so, I should like to 
 know what such a wholly unknown something or other can 
 do to create feelings and thoughts that cannot exist for 
 themselves. 
 
 We shall, therefore, stop at what we know : the soul is a 
 plurality of psychical experiences comprehended into the 
 unity of consciousness in a manner not further definable. 
 We know nothing whatever of a substance outside of, be- 
 hind, or under the ideas and feelings.* 
 
 * Wundt (System der Philosophie, pp. 289 ff. ) gives an excellent illustra- 
 tion of how impossible it is to apply the concept of substance to the soul. The 
 concept of substance originated in the realm of the corporeal world, and here 
 
130 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 It is not to be assumed that such reflections will suc- 
 ceed in at once convincing common-sense and its meta- 
 physicians of the superfluity of the soul-substance. Com- 
 mon-sense will continue to say : A feeling can neither 
 exist nor be conceived without some one to feel it, and so 
 an idea presupposes a substantial subject that has it and 
 presents it. Common-sense is not in the wrong, only it mis- 
 understands its own demand, which it seeks to satisfy — 
 but fails to satisfy — by means of the notion of substan- 
 tiality. What the demand really implies is this : A pres- 
 entation or feeling never appears in isolation, but always and 
 only in conjunction with an entire psychical life. Such is its 
 place in the world ; it belongs to it as a necessary member 
 of this combination. Nothing will hinder us from saying, 
 according to the traditional usage of language : The soul 
 has ideas and thoughts ; in it, feelings and desires are 
 aroused. We mean by this exactly what everybody under- 
 stands by it, namely, that these particular thoughts and 
 feelings arise in this particular combination of individual 
 psychical life, and that their consciousness embraces the 
 consciousness of the entire combination. Nor will any- 
 thing hinder us from saying : The soul is the substance 
 which produces and supports the separate states ; to be 
 sure, for were it not for this entire psychical life, this 
 particular sensation or idea would not exist either. Fur- 
 thermore, the whole is relatively persistent in relation 
 
 it has a definite, assignable meaning : the atoms are the absolutely persist- 
 ent substratum of the material world, unchangeable in quantity and quality. 
 All change is to be referred to the alteration in the arrangement and motion 
 of atoms : that is the maxim of natural science. If we transfer this notion 
 to soul-life, we either annihilate the notion or destroy life. The soul is not 
 unchangeable and persistent, like the atom; on the contrary, it is in a state of 
 constant inner change ; it never returns to its previous condition unchanged, 
 like the atom which severs its connection with a compound. Hence, the soul 
 cannot be called a substance in the same sense as the atom. If, however, 
 we insist upon it, as Herbart does ; if we define its essence as a simple and 
 absolutely unalterable quality, and regard ideas, thoughts, and desires as 
 mere accidental manifestations of substances which are conditioned by the 
 changing external relations, and do not affect its inner essence, we destroy 
 the soul. Then " everything in our inner experience that possesses reality 
 and existence becomes an empty semblance, and, as a recompense, we retain 
 the worthless shadow of a substance whose complete emptiness is com- 
 pensated for by its absolute persistence." 
 
€häp. I.] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 131 
 
 to its parts. But if you imagine that we need a bearer 
 for this whole, that we need an immaterial and simple 
 soul-substance, in order that the whole may not be with- 
 out support, let me ask the question : Would not such a 
 substance in turn also need a support ? It seems to me, 
 very much so. How a Herbartian " reality " can hold its 
 own has always struck me as the greatest among the 
 mysteries of metaphj^sics. If a " support " is to be found 
 for' soul-life, it must be sought, not in an isolated rigid 
 block of reality which is " posited absolutely," but in 
 the comprehensive whole from which, on which, and in 
 which it is. God is the substance, and outside of him 
 there is no substance ; nay, outside of him there is abso- 
 lutely nothing that can exist and be conceived by itself. 
 Those, however, who cannot relinquish the notion of 
 psychical substantiality ought to ask themselves how they 
 would conceive of God. Would they regard him too as a 
 simple substance that must have its seat at some point 
 of the universe, as the soul is situated at a point in the 
 body ? Or does God's essence not need a "real " to which 
 to attach itself ? In that event the human soul will not 
 need it either. But we shall return to this subject later. 
 
 Let me add another remark. The clumsy soul-atom 
 of common-sense is in line with its equally clumsy notion 
 of the constitution of matter : Matter consists of minute, 
 absolutely hard, rigid, inert, qualitatively indeterminate 
 particles. This, of course, is a conception that makes 
 the thought of panpsychism seem absurd indeed. Do you 
 really mean to say, common-sense asks, that in each one 
 of these minute, extended atoms there is also an unextended 
 soul-atom ? Of course, this is no more absurd than the 
 attempt to find a seat for the soul-atom in the endless 
 medley of ever-changing atoms which compose our body. 
 It appears to me, however, that the aforesaid notion of an 
 atom is worth just as much and just as little as the notion 
 of the unextended soul-substance. Natural science has no 
 more to do with the former than psychology has to do with 
 the latter. What science presupposes is ultimate elements 
 from which to proceed in its explanations. It does not con- 
 cern science whether these elements are absolutely ultimate, 
 
132 THE ONTOLOQICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 indivisible, inwardly rigid, indeterminate, extensive quan- 
 tities or not, any more than it concerns arithmetic whether 
 the units used in calculation are absolutely ultimate and 
 indivisible unities or not. On the contrary, it will say, 
 nothing prevents us from regarding every unity in turn as 
 a plurality ; each unit has ten tenths, and each tenth may 
 again be divided into ten tenths, ad infinitum. In the same 
 way the atoms, with which natural science deals as with 
 units, may at times be regarded as complex, articulated 
 sj^stems with internal movements. The speculations of 
 modern chemists estimate the number of molecules in a 
 cubic centimeter at twenty trillions, their diameters at less 
 than a millionth of a millimeter, the weight of a molecule 
 of oxygen at the fourth part of a quadrillionth of a gram.* 
 It is evident, when once we get so far away from everything 
 that we can picture to the imagination, nothing can keep us 
 from again dividing the parts of these parts in the same way. 
 It merely depends, however, on whether the necessities of a 
 conceptual explanation of the facts demand it. We are not 
 hindered from continuing this division and articulation any 
 more than the astronomer is hindered from going right on 
 in extending the universe. Analysis deals with the infinite 
 as well as synthesis. The atom as an absolutely hard and 
 rigid particle does not belong to scientific research but 
 to metaphysics, and, in truth, to the same dull and sluggish 
 metaphysics that puts forward the notion of the soul- 
 substance. 
 
 From this point of view, we shall now attempt to answer 
 the old question concerning the seat of the soul. Let us first 
 make plain to ourselves the meaning of the question. It 
 is obvious from our conception of the essence of the soul, 
 as indicated above, that we cannot speak of a seat in the 
 sense of a space, or a place in space, in which the soul is 
 supposed to be. In space, there are bodies ; in space, move- 
 ments take place, not states of consciousness. It is mean- 
 ingless to say, a thought or a feeling is here or there, and 
 extends through this or that part of space. Thoughts are 
 not in the brain ; we might as well say they are in the 
 
 * L. Meyer, Moderne Theorien der Chemie, 5th ed. (1884) pp. 131 ft. 
 
Chap. L] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 133 
 
 stomach or in the moon. The one statement is as absurd 
 as the other. Physiological processes occur in the brain, 
 and nothing else. Now, if the soul is nothing but a unity 
 of psychical life, it cannot of course be located in space 
 any more than thoughts can. The meaning of the question 
 concerning the seat of the soul can, therefore, only be this : 
 With what bodily processes are psychical processes con- 
 nected ? In the fourth section, we were led to the view that 
 a relation of parallelism obtains between bodily and psy- 
 chical processes. This parallelism has nothing whatever 
 to do with a local concurrence ; it simply means : when 
 a definite psychical process occurs, a physical process 
 simultaneously takes place, which may be characterized as 
 a concomitant phenomenon or as a physical equivalent of 
 the psychical occurrence. The question as to the seat of 
 the soul, therefore, means : What are these processes and 
 where do they take place ? Throughout the whole body or 
 in a part of the body, in the brain or, finally, in a single 
 part of the brain ? 
 
 Popular opinion inclines to the view that the whole body 
 is the seat of the soul; it is present everywhere in the 
 body, for the body has sensation at every point. 
 
 Perhaps there is more truth in the notion than our 
 physiologists are willing to admit. Indeed, I believe that 
 we are ultimately driven to it. At first sight, of course, 
 the facts urge us to a different view. Even our daily ex- 
 periences, which could not have escaped popular thought, 
 show that different parts of the body differ in their impor- 
 tance for psychical as well as for bodily life. The loss of an 
 arm or a leg is not fatal, nor does it diminish our psychical 
 existence ; while the destruction of the heart or brain re- 
 sults in bodily decay and in the cessation of psychical life. 
 Apparently, this is the fact which has invariabLy impelled 
 men to seek for a special seat of the soul in the body, and 
 to locate it in the superior organs. A division of the soul 
 itself into different forces, aspects, or parts, corresponding 
 to the different functions, then leads to their distribution 
 among the different bodily organs. In the Platonic psy- 
 chology, we have such an ingenious classification : thought 
 is situated in the Jiead; the higher spiritual will which 
 
134 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 manifests itself in specific human emotions, in the heart ; 
 the sensuous-animal impulses are placed under the dia- 
 phragm. In modern times, anatomical and physiological 
 investigations have brought us to the view, so current in 
 our days, that the psychical processes are most intimately 
 connected with the nervous system, especially the brain. 
 Contact with the surface of the body, excitation of the 
 sense-organs by physical stimuli, does not, as our common 
 self-consciousness testifies, immediately effect a sensation 
 at the stimulated point. The latter is produced only in case 
 the excitation is transmitted to the brain by intact nerve- 
 fibres. If the path is interrupted, if the nerve by which the 
 centripetal excitation is transmitted is severed, the periph- 
 eral excitation no longer arouses a sensation. Likewise, 
 spontaneous movement ceases when the nervous connection 
 between a limb and the central organ is broken. Hence, 
 the conclusion is, the brain is the seat of the soul. 
 
 Finally, the metaphysical theories which make of the soul 
 a simple substance in reciprocal relation with the body, lead 
 to the attempt to assign to it a seat in a narrow region, pref- 
 erably at a single point of the brain, where it receives the 
 effects of the body and whence it acts upon the body. Des- 
 cartes takes the lead in this matter, and the entire eighteenth 
 century, following in his steps, inclines to the same view. 
 During the age of critical and speculative philosophy, this 
 conception, together with the idea of the soul-substance, was 
 temporarily abandoned. Herbart and his school, as well as 
 Lotze, raise it to its former dignity.* 
 
 * Following- Herbart's example {Psychologie als Wissenschaft, n. 461), 
 Lotze (Medizinische Psychologie, pp. 115 if.) is inclined to locate the soul in 
 the pons Varolii, through which numerous brain-nerves pass. He does not 
 regard it as essential to his assumption to have a specially-formed physio- 
 logical organ for the reception of all conducting nerves ; it is enough if 
 they all converge into a nervous parenchyma that does not offer any further 
 resistance to the universal distribution of the excitations, and therefore al- 
 lows them safely to reach the substance of the soul. What keeps him from 
 locating it in the cortical matter of the hemispheres, as seems most plau- 
 sible to modern physiologists, is the extent and bilateral symmetry of the 
 cerebrum, to which he simply assigns the task of maintaining the functional 
 activity of the nerves as a force-producing apparatus. A discussion of the 
 question from the standpoint of Herbartian metaphysics and psychology 
 is to be found in Volkmann, Lehrbuch der Psychologie, i. 76 ff. 
 
Chap. L] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 135 
 
 The last-named efforts to discover a single point in the 
 brain at which alone the soul is supposed to be immedi- 
 ately present or to act, rest, it seems to me, on meta- 
 physical reasons only, not on the facts of psychology or 
 physiology. They are based on the presupposition that 
 the soul is a simple, unextended substance. Now, inexten- 
 sion means non-spatiality, yet the imagination ever strives 
 to represent it as a point and then demands for this a 
 localization in space. But by abandoning the soul-atom, 
 we at the same time abandon the necessity of localizing 
 the soul at a point. If the soul is nothing but psychical 
 activity in general, there is no occasion for letting the phy- 
 sical concomitants take place at one point or within a 
 limited region rather than in any area of corporeal life, be 
 it large or small. It is hard to understand why Lotze 
 clings to the theory that the soul is situated at a point in 
 the brain after he has abandoned the rigid soul-atom of 
 the old spiritualism which is its presupposition. For he, 
 too, conceives the soul as a " living unity of consciousness 
 which comprehends itself." * 
 
 We therefore exclude metaphysics from the solution of 
 the question. Psychology and physiology remain. It is 
 immaterial to the former, as such, what view is advanced. 
 The unity of consciousness and the non-spatial character 
 of psychical life as such by no means imply the simplicity 
 and inextension belonging to the mathematical point. Self- 
 consciousness has no immediate knowledge whatever of 
 accompanying nerve-processes. Physiology alone is cogni- 
 zant of them. Physiology, however, is doubtless more 
 inclined to the notion that the concomitant phenomena of 
 psychical processes extend over a large territory. Labo- 
 rious and painful investigations have gradually succeeded, 
 at least in some respects, in establishing uniform relations 
 between psychical functions and definite brain-areas. Thus, 
 limited areas of the cortex may be pointed out, whose 
 functions condition the different sense-perceptions and 
 their recall, speech and the understanding of speech. Such 
 facts are not, of course, subject to direct observation, but 
 
 * See his last controversy with Fechner, Metaphysik, p. 480. 
 
136 THE ONTOLOQICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 experiments with animals and pathological investigations 
 with human beings show a regular parallelism between the 
 destruction of certain localities in the cortex and the dis- 
 turbance or cessation of certain psychical functions. It is 
 the most plausible interpretation of these facts to say that 
 the physiological functions of such parts are the physical 
 equivalents of the corresponding psychical processes. 
 True, the assertion might be made that these parts are 
 but the intermediate conditions of excitation for some point 
 or other which has not yet been discovered. What asser- 
 tions, however, might not be made in this field ? There 
 are as yet no physiological reasons for such a statement. 
 The physiologist is constrained to explain even the simplest 
 psychical processes like an act of recognition or an act of 
 will produced thereby and resulting in a spontaneous 
 movement, as an extensive nervous process in which numer- 
 ous elements equally share ; and there is no reason why he 
 should connect the psychical process with the functioning 
 of one of these elements rather than with that of all the 
 rest.* 
 
 It is furthermore plain that a Herbartian soul-reality 
 would be a great stumbling-block to physiologists in other 
 respects. What is its relation to metabolism ? As far as 
 
 * Meynert attempts to illustrate such nervous processes as, for example, 
 accompany a visual perception and the attendant defensive impulse {Psy- 
 chiatrie, 1884, 145 ff.). Results of experimental observations on dogs and 
 monkeys in Munk, Die Funktionen der Grosshirnrinde (2d ed. , 1890). These 
 experiments seem to have established that the destruction of certain por- 
 tions of the cortex results in the cessation of certain psychical functions. 
 Thus, the extirpation of the posterior apex of the occipital lobe results in 
 the loss of the ability to recognize known objects, and in such a way that 
 the destruction of one side of the lobe destroys the sight of the eye on the 
 opposite side. The dog sees, but he does not recognize what he sees. 
 Gradually the faculty of vision is acquired again ; he learns to ' ' see " again, 
 that is, to infer the nature of the object from his visual sensation. 
 Although there is still much obscurity here, and although the successive 
 occupation of the cells by memory-images, the temporary emptiness of cells 
 by which the reacquisition of memory is supposed to be conditioned, the 
 unfolding of a series of associations in consequence of the reflexive excita- 
 tion of a series of cells, etc., are so far nothing but physiological specula- 
 tions (which remind one strikingly of Beneke's speculative psychology) ; 
 yet it is intelligible why such facts should irresistibly impel the physiolo- 
 gist to assume the extended localization of psychical functions. 
 
Chap. I.] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 137 
 
 the physiologist can discover, psychical life never consists 
 of a permanent stock of elements, but of elements in con- 
 stant charge. Is the psychical " real " an exception, does 
 it alone persist, while the other " reals " are in a state of 
 constant flux ? And how is it related to birth and death ? 
 Is it a constant element that reaches such a high stage of 
 development because of its privileged position ? And what 
 becomes of it when it is deprived of its surroundings by 
 the death of the body ? Finally, it is worthy of note that 
 the older attempts to find a point in the brain, the destruc- 
 tion of which would result in immediate death, have all 
 proved futile. The ganglion of life assumed by Flourens 
 Joes not exist ; the patient survives the destruction of any 
 portion of his brain, if it is not too extensive.* 
 
 After all this, it is plain enough that the tendency pre- 
 dominates among physiologists to accept the extensive 
 localization of psychical processes. A nervous process in 
 more or less extended portions of the brain, particularly 
 of the cortical substance, corresponds to every psychical 
 process. Can we stop here — or must we stop here ? Or is 
 it expedient to go further and to return with Fechner and 
 Wundt to the old conception that the entire living body 
 is the seat of the soul — that the entire unified bodily life is 
 the physical equivalent for the entire unified psychical 
 life ? I believe we are driven to such a view. 
 
 In the first place, the thorough-going unity of corporeal 
 life suggests it. Where is the boundary-line of soul-life, 
 if we are not allowed to locate it at a single point ? It 
 seems hardly possible to select a fixed territory within the 
 nervous system, and to associate psychical accompaniments 
 wdth the excitation of this alone, denying them to similar 
 occurrences outside of the same. And the nervous system 
 in turn is so intimately connected with ail the vital pro- 
 cesses in its physiological functions, in its nutrition^ that it 
 must appear arbitrary to isolate the nervous system as the 
 organ of psychical life. Indeed, if we once begin to rule 
 out parts of the body that stand in no immediate relation 
 io soul-life, but serve as its external instruments only, we 
 
 * Fechner, Elemente der Psychophysik, pp. 399 ff. 
 
138 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 shall gradually be reduced to the monadological view. 
 This would regard the bones and ligaments and muscles as 
 nothing but an external mechanism, which the soul em- 
 ploys not otherwise than as levers or pulleys. The nervous 
 system alone is the bearer of psychical life. But not the 
 peripheral nerves : they evidently serve merely as paths of 
 transmission, hence as external instruments. The central 
 organs of the nervous system alone remain as bearers of 
 psychical life. Not altogether, however; for the fibres 
 most likely function as conductors, hence they, too, belong 
 to the external mechanism. The ganglionic cells, espe- 
 cially the large masses of the cortex, remain. But what 
 hinders us from continuing our line of reasoning and say- 
 ing that the ganglia too, in turn, serve only as means ? For 
 do not experiments and pathological investigations show 
 that not a single part of the brain is indispensable to psy- 
 chical life or incapable of being replaced ? It is said that 
 under certain circumstances the degeneration of the whole 
 of a hemisphere occurs with no considerable loss to the 
 soul ; hence the hemisphere itself is simply an external and 
 not indispensable means. And how are we to conceive the 
 relation of the two hemispheres to soul-life? Would we 
 not also have to expect two regular series of psychical 
 processes, if these hemispheres were the immediate bearers 
 of psychical life, that is, if states of consciousness immedi- 
 ately corresponded to the physical states in them? Hence 
 it seems advisable to regard the life of the body, including 
 the nervous system, as nothing but a system of external 
 means, as a mechanism, which the immaterial soul employs 
 in order to enter upon manifold relations with its sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 We, therefore, seem to be reduced to an alternative. 
 Either we must regard the entire body, including the 
 nervous system, as a system of means external to the soul, 
 or we must regard the entire body as the visible expres- 
 sion or physical equivalent of soul-life. The division of 
 the body so as to make certain portions only, say the 
 cortical substance of the brain, bearers of psychical pro- 
 cesses, can hardly be considered as a satisfactory account. 
 If now the previously-mentioned reasons hinder us from 
 
Chap. I.] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 139 
 
 returning to the former view, we must make up our minds 
 to say : The physical equivalent of psychical life is the 
 sum of physiological vital processes ; a psychical element 
 corresponds to every physical one ; the parallelism is 
 thorough-going. To be sure, I repeat, the parallelism is 
 not a local one : I do not intend to say that wherever a 
 physical process takes place, there too a psychical process 
 occurs. That is a meaningless statement. But an ideal 
 parallelism occurs. A penetrating understanding having a 
 thorough insight into all bodily occurrences as well as 
 into all inner processes, would be able to point out for 
 every process in the body a corresponding process in the 
 soul, be it conscious or subconscious. For such a pene- v 
 trating understanding would indeed view psychical life, not 
 as a thin chain of conscious ideas, but as an infinitely- 
 complicated diversity of simultaneous conscious and less 
 conscious or subconscious processes. Corresponding to 
 the uniform action of the bodily vital processes with their 
 innumerable auxiliary processes, we should have a system 
 of psychical life of equal complexity and corresponding [ 
 gradations of consciousness. 
 
 Biological and evolutionistic considerations seem to 
 point to the same view: We find no nervous system in the 
 lowest forms of animal life to which we attribute psychical 
 life. The body of the protista has no particular centre at 
 which to locate the soul. The entire body appears as an 
 accumulation of homogeneous and homo-functional organic 
 substance. Upon division, every part becomes viable and 
 exercises all and the same functions which the whole per- 
 forms ; it reacts upon stimuli, assimilates food, builds a 
 shell, etc. " There is no unitary psychical centre in the 
 body of the protista. Every infinitely small piece of proto- 
 plasm is the seat of psychical processes." * If organic 
 matter originally possessed psychical life at every point, it 
 is hard to see how it could have entirely lost this quality 
 later on. The centralization of the physical vital processes 
 on higher stages of development is accompanied by the 
 transformation of the functions of the parts, but not by 
 
 *M. Verworrn, Psychophysiologische Protistenstudien. p. 211 
 
140 THE ONTOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Boox I. 
 
 tlieir destruction. Is it not possible that the same happens 
 in the psychical sphere ? The physical life of every animal 
 being invariably begins in the form of a cell. Why should 
 not its psychical life also originate from an elementary 
 form ? 
 
 The obvious objection that we have no actual knowl- 
 edge of such a universal correspondence, and, moreover, 
 that thousands of bodily processes are without accompany- 
 ing conscious states, may be answered by referring to our 
 former exposition (pp. 120 ff.): not every element belonging 
 to psychical life is necessarily an object of self-perception 
 in consciousness. Consciousness constitutes but a very 
 small part of the entire soul-life, which we are never- 
 theless obliged to presuppose in order to explain the pro- 
 cesses in consciousness. Unconscious or subconscious 
 states most likely correspond to the bodily processes which 
 are not accompanied by conscious psychical processes. 
 The vegetative processes, the intra-organic processes occa- 
 sioned by the constantly-recurring metabolic changes tak- 
 ing place in all parts of the body, and the corresponding 
 ganglionic excitations of the sympathetic nervous system, 
 have some minimal feelings or desires as their psychical 
 equivalents ; but these remain below the threshold of con- 
 sciousness ; only a summation of all of them enters con- 
 sciousness, perhaps in the form of common feelings or 
 organic vital feelings, or rather constitutes the background 
 of all conscious states, which is for the most part hardly per- 
 ceptible. Only under certain circumstances do individual 
 feelings of this group attain to such a degree of intensity 
 as to enter consciousness. It occurs regularly when dis- 
 turbances of some kind or other reach a menacing inten- 
 sity and demand relief : thus in the feelings of hunger, 
 thirst, fatigue, suffocation, or in feelings of satisfaction, if 
 the demand is satisfied. In this case, we should assume, 
 a corresponding physiological process takes place in the 
 central nervous system, while, as a rule, the processes of 
 metabolism occur within narrower limits and do not affect 
 the brain. 
 
 On the other hand, collisions between the body and its 
 external environment generally arouse nervous excitations 
 
Chap. I.] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 141 
 
 which are transmitted to the brain. When the surface of 
 the body is touched, the ends of sensible nerves are always 
 excited and these excitations are carried to the central 
 organ. The sense-organs are particularly prominent points 
 on the surface. A complicated apparatus conducts the 
 slightest excitation, for example one caused by ether-waves 
 or vibrations of the air, to the brain. Not all of these exci- 
 tations are accompanied by conscious psychical processes ; 
 the thousands of tactile and muscular excitations which 
 are constantly aroused in the entire periphery, for the most 
 part remain below the threshold of consciousness. They 
 exist, as is shown by the position and movement of the 
 body ; when they are absent, movements become uncertain ; 
 they can also be brought to consciousness at any time, as 
 soon as attention is directed towards them, but as a rule 
 they remain subconscious. In like manner, thousands of 
 sense-impressions which at every moment enter through 
 the eye and ear remain subconscious ; as a rule we see and 
 hear only what is related to our present interest. If the 
 problem has no relation whatever to the external world, 
 if we ponder over an abstract theme, or indulge in reminis- 
 cences, we neither hear nor see anything at all, for the 
 time being. That is, the nerve-excitations and brain-pro- 
 cesses are present even then, nor are psychical equivalents 
 absent ; we become aware of this fact when we are suddenly 
 awakened from our dreams : we remember quite distinctly 
 that we really heard such and such sounds, the sound of a 
 bell for instance ; we even succeed in counting the strokes 
 subsequently. But they could not, under the circum- 
 stances, rise into consciousness. 
 
 Evidently this is an arrangement that is beneficial or, 
 rather, essential to the vital economy of higher animals : 
 the intra-organic contrivances do not, as a rule, excite 
 the cerebro-spinal system, and, similarly, their psychical 
 equivalents remain beneath the threshold of consciousness. 
 On the other hand, the relations with the external world are 
 represented by nerve-excitations which are regularly trans- 
 mitted to the central organ, and their psychical equivalents 
 approximate consciousness. Of course, the preservation of 
 the animal essentially depends upon whether it responds 
 
142 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 to the external environment with the appropriate reaction : 
 the adaptation of its movements to the occurrences of the ex- 
 ternal world is for an animal the great problem of life. 
 We may liken the animal body to the body politic. The 
 inner processes which pertain to metabolic change, the 
 economic activity of the different individuals, their family- 
 life, — all these take place within the narrowest sphere ; they 
 do not enter the universal consciousness. True, taken all 
 together, they are constantly present as the substratum of 
 universal consciousness ; the countless little sorrows and 
 joys experienced by the different individuals constitute the 
 vital feelings of a people, as it were. On the other hand, a 
 nation is extremely sensitive to contact with the external 
 world. Every boundary-incident is discussed by all the 
 papers, and a thousand eyes are constantly watching the 
 state of the international relations in diplomacy. 
 
 The cerebro-spinal system has the function to regulate 
 the external relations of the organism. Its peripheral termi- 
 nations are sensitive to the slighest contact with air- and 
 ether-waves. Nerve-fibres, which represent isolating paths 
 of transmission, carry the excitations intact to the central 
 organ. This, in turn, represents a system of organs which 
 acquire permanent arrangements occasioned by nerve-ex- 
 citations. By means of these paths, which, looked at from 
 the psychical side, make up memory, the nervous process 
 in the central organ (psychically, the apperception), as well 
 as the reaction (the decision), is, upon subsequent excitation, 
 determined. Concentration upon these contacts and reac- 
 tions presupposes an isolation against intra-organic excita- 
 tions ; or, psychically expressed, the origin of a world of 
 ideas, the evolution of a mental life, presupposes a certain 
 isolation of consciousness from the organic feelings. 
 
 The evolution, then, must be explained in this way. On 
 the lowest stage of animal life, sensibility to stimuli is 
 distributed equally over the entire body. Contact at any 
 point provokes a local or general reaction of consciousness ; 
 every process is accompanied by some psychical equivalent 
 or other, which we interpret by analogy with our own 
 soul-life as feeling and desire / . In the same manner, the 
 intra-organic processes are accompanied by corresponding 
 
Chap. L] THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 143 
 
 psychical processes. A disconDected and undifferentiated 
 plurality of such incidental processes is the form of the 
 lowest stages of psychical life. With progressive develop- 
 ment, the relations to the external world become more and 
 more manifold and complicated, the problem of self-preser- 
 vation demands more and more manifold and subtle adap- 
 tations of behavior to the conditions and occurrences of the 
 external world. The nervous system is developed as an 
 organ for this function. Its sensibility to excitations from 
 the external world becomes more and more intensified and 
 differentiated, while in the other parts of the organic sub- 
 stance this sensibility diminishes. With the centralization 
 of sensibility, that of the reactionary movements keeps 
 step. The central organs of the nervous system are a regu- 
 lative apparatus of control that limits the faculty of reac- 
 tion originally belonging to the entire organic substance. — 
 The process of psychical evolution runs parallel with the 
 evolution of organic life. The organic feelings are gradu- 
 ally pushed into the background by the development of 
 sensation and memory ; the play of ideas begins, conscious- 
 ness in the proper sense arises, which cannot be conceived 
 without referring a psychical element to a whole. 
 
 I have reached the conclusion of this entire discussion. 
 If we identify psychical life with conscious thought, we 
 reach the point to which the Cartesians were led by 
 their definition of the soul as a res cogitans: we are obliged 
 to deny soul to animals ; indeed, to all subhuman beings. 
 If, on the other hand, conscious presentation and thought 
 do not make up the whole of psychical life, not even in 
 human beings, if there is a subconscious soul-life beneath 
 the surface, then nothing can hinder us from assuming the 
 existence of a soul-life in which a consciousness like human 
 consciousness is never reached. Self-consciousness presup- 
 poses world-consciousness with extensive recollection, yes, 
 race-memory — that is, historical consciousness. The ego 
 has self-consciousness in the real sense, only as a his- 
 torical being. We cannot ascribe such consciousness to 
 animals ; not even the most sagacious animal could tell the 
 history of its life. The soul-life of animals is most likely 
 like that which we find in ourselves beneath self-conscious 
 
144 THE ONTOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 thought and willing. As we gradually descend the scale, 
 we find that the presentative side gradually vanishes, the 
 memory becomes narrower and narrower, perception 
 scantier and scantier. At the same time, the will gradually 
 loses the form of anticipating ends, of conscious craving or 
 desire, until finally nothing is left over as the content of 
 soul-life except a momentary impulse, which is aroused by 
 contact with the environment. Inner processes like these 
 would have to be assumed as the concomitants of all move- 
 ments, even of those beyond the limits of organic life. 
 
 In this way we establish an idealistic or spiritualistic 
 ontology in opposition to the materialistic one. It rests 
 essentially on the parallelistic theory of the relation be- 
 tween the physical and the psychical, and upon the volun- 
 taristic psychology. It culminates, however, in the monis- 
 tic solution of the cosmological problem, to which we now 
 turn. 
 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. 
 1. Facts and Hypotheses. 
 
 The question concerning the essence of reality consti- 
 tutes the ontological problem. The cosmological problem 
 is the question concerning the relation between the parts 
 and the whole of reality. I shall first state the facts which 
 suggest the question. 
 
 To popular opinion the world appears as a plurality of 
 independent objects, each of which has an existence inde- 
 pendent of all the rest. True, they are not totally indiffer- 
 ent to each other ; they stand in relation to, and act upon, 
 each other. Nevertheless, this relation of interaction is 
 unnecessary to the existence of each element as such. 
 
 If we look at the matter a little more closely, we shall 
 discover a few further facts that are worthy of notice. In 
 the first place, things act and are acted upon, not occasion- 
 ally only, but constantly and universally . Every portion of 
 existence bears a constant reciprocal relation to every 
 other portion. Physics teaches this. A brick falls from 
 the roof. We say, the earth attracts it with a force corre- 
 sponding to the mass. That means : its motion is deter- 
 mined, at each moment, by the relation of all its parts to 
 all the parts which constitute the body of the earth. If the 
 mass of the earth were smaller, or a part temporarily in- 
 active, the motion of the brick would be a different one ; 
 on the moon, it would fall with less, on Jupiter, with greater 
 velocity. Likewise, all parts of the brick act upon the 
 earth by impelling it to move in the direction of the com- 
 mon centre of gravity. The motion of the stone is, there- 
 fore, a part of a universal motion which it and all the parts 
 
 145 
 
146 THE COSMÖLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 of the earth together direct towards a common centre, 
 the centre of gravity of the system. At the same time, this 
 system bears a similar relation to a greater system. Every 
 change that occurs in the former, the slightest transference 
 of the centre of gravity, reacts upon the motion of the 
 entire planetary system. And the latter in turn interacts 
 upon a wider circle, the system of the milky-way, for the 
 explanation of which, it must be confessed, we lack the 
 data. Hence, all mass-particles that coexist in space make 
 up a unitary system possessing a uniform motion, in which 
 the movement of every part is contained and determined 
 as a partial movement. 
 
 The same system which comprehends all movements 
 in space into an all-embracing unity, also combines them 
 into a unity in time. The brick was thrown from the 
 roof by a storm. The current of air is the effect of the 
 difference in the heat of different parts of the earth's sur- 
 face. This cause in turn is itself an effect of previous cir- 
 cumstances, of cloudiness, precipitation, ocean-currents, 
 the structure of the earth's surface and its motion, and so 
 on, without end. Had a perfect arithmetician been able 
 exactly to estimate the masses and their position and 
 motion in reference to each other at any remote point of 
 past time, he would also have been able to foresee the oc- 
 currence of this particular event, at this particular time, 
 and in this particular place, just as the astronomer prede- 
 termines, to the very second, the appearance of the moon 
 in the eclipses. 
 
 We are therefore driven to the statement : All motions 
 in infinite time and infinite space really form a single 
 motion ; the corporeal world is a unitary system possess- 
 ing one great single movement, to which all the separate 
 movements are related as parts to the whole. Or, in the 
 words of Leibniz: "Every body is affected by everything 
 that happens in the entire world, so that a man seeing every- 
 thing would know from each particular object everything 
 that takes place everywhere, as well as what has taken 
 place and will take place : he perceives in the present that 
 which is remote in time and space." (Monadology , § 61.) 
 
 A second fact, conspicuous in the constitution of the 
 
Chap. II.] FACTS AND HYPOTHESES. 147 
 
 world, is the reign of universal law. So great is the homo- 
 geneity of elements, that the behavior of all of them may, 
 at least in certain respects, be expressed by simple formulae. 
 The laws of mechanics or the law of gravity are, so at least 
 physics and astronomy assume, the exact expression of the 
 behavior of every mass-particle that exists anywhere in 
 infinite space or acts at any time in infinite time. Any 
 particle might be substituted for any other one of equal 
 mass without effecting any change in the world-process. 
 This homogeneity of all the parts of reality is evidently 
 not a necessity of our thought ; it would be altogether 
 conceivable, — indeed, on the presupposition that the world 
 consists of many absolutely independent elements it would 
 be a plausible assumption, — that these parts exhibit all 
 kinds of differences in behavior. In that case, natural sci- 
 ence in the modern sense of the term would not be possi- 
 ble, perhaps it would not be possible in any sense. That 
 such homogeneity exists is a lucky accident for our mode 
 of thinking. 
 
 A third significant fact must be added : the cosmical or- 
 ganization of reality. The great unitary system which we 
 call world displays a tendency to a peculiar arrangement 
 of its parts, the tendency, namely, to organize itself in- 
 to smaller, relatively independent systems possessing an 
 equally relatively independent unity of motion. The most 
 comprehensive system that we can survey is our planetary 
 system ; it is itself a partial system, relatively complete in 
 itself, of a system of a higher order, and in turn organizes 
 itself into smaller unities, the heavenly bodies, which 
 again are themselves in part cosmical systems with many 
 parts, planets with satellites and rings. Each of these 
 parts, like the entire solar system, exhibits cyclical motion 
 and unitary development ; each heavenly body moves in 
 periodic revolutions on its own axis and around the cen- 
 tral body ; at the same time it passes through serial stages 
 of development which have a uniform history. We are 
 able to sketch, at least in outline, the history of the earth's 
 evolution. Upon the earth in turn, the only heavenly body 
 with which we are more closely acquainted, we meet re- 
 duced copies, as it were, of those^ cosmic unities, that is 
 
148 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 organisms. Like microcosms, they repeat tlie evolutionary 
 laws of the macrocosm; they represent small, unified 
 organized systems having a series of periodically-recurring 
 changes : circulation of the blood, respiration, metabolism, 
 generative changes, all of which are included in a unitary 
 total development (birth, growth, old age, death). Every- 
 where these changes occur within a relatively-complete 
 unity, but they are always related to the movements in the 
 larger system : plants and animals adapt themselves with 
 their cyclical vital processes to the cyclical motions of the 
 earth ; generative changes generally follow the changes of 
 the seasons, that is, the motions around the central body ; 
 the activities of life and metabolism are intimately related 
 to the changes of night and day, that is, the motion of the 
 earth around its axis. Finally, physiology again resolves 
 the living bodies into smaller unities, into cells, which in 
 turn exhibit the same microcosmic character in miniature. 
 And chemistry at last shows that all bodies, organic and 
 inorganic, consist of small systems, of molecules, which are 
 in turn explained as composed of presupposed parts, of 
 atoms. Here the analysis rests for a while, leaving it to 
 the future to construe these atoms as composite systems. 
 Thus natural science represents reality to us as a cosmos 
 unified and organized throughout. 
 
 It is easy to see that the mental world, as far as we 
 know it, reveals the same trait ; here too, unity and 
 organization are the prominent fundamental features. 
 There are no isolated elements in the historico-mental 
 sphere any more than in the physical world. Eather, they 
 are all combined into the unity of a historico-mental 
 life. Take any individual life you please. Its contents 
 cannot be described except in relation to the historical 
 whole. The whole history of the age and the entire past 
 are contained in it, while its effects influence the entire 
 future. A biography of Lessing cannot be written without 
 the appearance in it of Frederick the Great and Voltaire, 
 Göze and Gottsched, Leibniz and Spinoza. But each of 
 these men in turn is also related to contemporaries and 
 predecessors ; the entire historical world of the seven- 
 teenth and eighteenth centuries exerts its influence ; and 
 
Chap. IL] FACTS AND HYPOTHESES. 149 
 
 it would be caprice to select any detail and to repre- 
 sent it by itself. And the development of modern times, 
 again, is most intimately connected with the Renaissance 
 and the Reformation, with the middle ages and antiquity ; 
 and in Grecian historj^, antiquity comes in contact with the 
 Orient. All these factors are the presuppositions of the 
 mental content which we call the life of Lessing. We see, 
 the historico-mental sphere forms a unity like the physical 
 world : all in each and each in all ! 
 
 The tendency to form smaller circles, relatively complete 
 in themselves, shows itself here also. Humanity organizes 
 itself into peoples, each one of which forms a unity of men- 
 tal life joined together by the unity of language, in which 
 the mental content objectifies itself. The peoples in turn 
 are organized into tribes, these into provinces, the prov- 
 inces into separate localities, the localities into families, — 
 each of these groups, a unified, relatively independent 
 sphere of life, having its own history and peculiar mental 
 content. The ultimate unities consist of individuals, in 
 each of whom the larger spheres exist as specialized forms 
 of inner life, occurring in this way but once. 
 
 Reality, therefore, represents, as far as we can see, a 
 unitary, organized system governed throughout by laws : a 
 cosmos. That is a fact» And now the question arises, How 
 shall we interpret or construe these facts \ How does it 
 happen that the world is not a chaotic plurality of elements 
 absolutely indifferent to one another, for that, too, would 
 be conceivable ? What is the explanation of the cosmical 
 nature of existence, the organization and concentration of 
 all things into one great correlated system ? 
 
 There are three attempts to solve this problem, three 
 cosmological hypotheses : Atomism, Anthropomorphic The- 
 ism, and Pantheism. 
 
 Atomism (which is not necessarily materialistic, for a 
 monadology consistently carried out is atomism) assumes 
 that the semblance of unity arises through the merely 
 accidental juxtaposition of original elements absolutely 
 independent as such. An original inner connection between 
 the atoms does not exist at all. But inasmuch as they, 
 although indifferent to each other, move in empty space 
 
150 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 and meet each other, those transitory combinations arise 
 which we call objects and connections between objects. 
 And since infinitely many elements move promiscuously in 
 infinite space and in infinite time, all possible combinations 
 must become real for a time. 
 
 Anthropomorphic Theism asserts, on the other hand : It 
 is not conceivable that the unity, organization, and arrange- 
 ment of reality is a result of accident or of motion following 
 blind law. The form of the world can be explained only 
 by the action of an architectonic intelligence acting accord- 
 ing to ends, anticipating the organization and course of 
 the world in thought. 
 
 Pantheism, finally, assumes the principle of unity as a 
 principle immanent in the world. Keality is a single being ; 
 not the unity, but the plurality is the illusion. Or, the ele- 
 ments of reality are not independent objects whose sum 
 constitutes the whole. They are elements determined by 
 the whole, immanent determinations or modifications of its 
 essence. 
 
 2. Atomistic and Teleological-theistical Explanation 
 of Nature. 
 
 I shall begin my examination of the rival hypotheses with 
 the exposition of the antithesis between the atomistic and 
 the theistic hypotheses. And I shall present this antithesis, 
 first of all, in the form in which it has for thousands of 
 years dominated human thought, that is, without regard 
 to the change effected in the problem in our century 
 by evolutionistic biology and cosmology. These are the 
 two conceptions which are still most acceptable to the 
 popular thought of to-day. Atomism is prevalent in 
 natural-scientific circles, while anthropomorphic theism 
 flourishes in the circles influenced by the philosophy of 
 the church. Let me add at once, however, that the doc- 
 trine of the church essentially differs from the view which 
 I designate as anthropomorphic theism in this, that it as- 
 sumes no independently-existing matter, that it regards God, 
 not as the architect, but as the creator of the world out of 
 nothing. In this respect it approximates the third concep- 
 
Ch. II.] THE ATOMISTIC AND THEISTIC HYPOTHESES. 151 
 
 tion, the pantheistic one, so closely that it cannot be sepa- 
 rated from it in thought. A being that creates all the 
 rest out of nothing is necessarily the only independent or 
 really existing being. Objects that are created and pre- 
 served by him have no independence in relation to him ; 
 they are, in relation to God, activities or determinations of 
 his essence. The omnipotent being can do anything but 
 give his creatures independence over against himself, 
 unless, of course, he should be able to make them un- 
 created beings. 
 
 Anthropomorphic Theism, to begin with its exposition, 
 rests on some such argument as the following. It is called 
 the teleological argument. 
 
 Wherever we find a plurality of elements which are 
 independent of each other, as far as their existence is con- 
 cerned, so arranged that their co-operation regularly pro- 
 duces a rational or valuable result, we assume that the 
 arrangement of the parts has been effected by an intelli- 
 gence which desires the result as an end and brings to- 
 gether the parts as means to this eud. In a clock, for ex- 
 ample, there are many parts : wheels, pegs, jewels, hands, 
 face, spring, so conjoined that their co-operation produces 
 a uniform motion of the hands, and thus the clock becomes 
 an appropriate instrument for measuring time. "Whoever 
 knows its purpose and sees the arrangement of the parts, 
 at once infers with certainty that this object is a product 
 of art and design. And if he were to find a clock or but 
 the fragment of a cog-wheel on an uninhabited island, he 
 would forthwith say : Men have dwelt here ; chance has not 
 arranged these elements in this way, but human purpose. 
 
 Well, the same is the case with nature as a whole. We 
 have not witnessed the first arrangement of the parts, but 
 everywhere we meet products of nature which so resemble 
 products of human art and purpose that we are driven to 
 infer a similar origin, the activity of an architectonic in- 
 telligence. This is particularly true of living beings. In 
 structure and function they resemble very complicated 
 machines. The parts — bones, muscles, ligaments, nerves, 
 vessels, heart, luug, blood, stomach, skin, hair, etc. — are so 
 conjoined that their interaction produces the effect which 
 
152 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 we call life and recognize as rational and valuable, nay, 
 as the presupposition of all values. And each of these 
 parts is again composite and exhibits the same wonderful 
 adaptation of many parts in order to make possible a func- 
 tion essential to the whole. Take the eye. First we have 
 the retina with the terminations of the optical nerve-fibres 
 — wonderfully complicated formations, as the microscope 
 shows, capable of being excited by those extremely slight 
 shocks, light-waves, and to conduct their excitations over 
 the nerve-fibres to the brain. Such general sensitiveness 
 to light would, however, be of little value in orienting us in 
 the world, if sharply-outlined images of objects were not 
 thrown upon the retina. This is effected by the optical ap- 
 paratus in front. The entering light-rays are so refracted 
 by the cornea, lens, and vitreous humor as to draw a sharp, 
 reduced, reversed image of the object upon the retina. 
 The movable screen or iris with its central opening, the pupil, 
 which wards off the scattering rays which would otherwise 
 enter the margin of the lens ; the black pigment covering in 
 the orbit of the eye ; the complicated muscular and nervous 
 system by means of which the eye can accommodate itself 
 to the different distances of objects, as well as its ability to 
 move in all directions in the socket, complete its utility. 
 This so important organ is finally protected in the most 
 careful manner ; imbedded in a bony cavity of the skull, it 
 is further protected against all kinds of accidental injuries 
 by lids, lashes, and brows. 
 
 What meets us here is a thousand times repeated in the 
 organism. Every system of organs displays the same in- 
 genious combination of a plurality of parts into an instru- 
 ment whose activity furthers the preservation of life, be it 
 of the individual or of the species. The more deeply anat- 
 omy and biology penetrate into the structure and functions 
 of the body with new methods of investigation, the more 
 wonderful the phenomenon appears. The complication 
 becomes greater and greater, the organization more and 
 more thorough-going, the development more and more 
 diversified. In the same measure, our wonder increases 
 at the harmony between the parts and the whole, the adap- 
 tation of the whole to its environment. Each advance in 
 
Oh. IL] THE ATOMISTIC AND THEISTIC HYPOTHESES. 153 
 
 the extension and concentration of knowledge brings biology 
 to a deeper insight into the inner unity of the plan which 
 governs the development. " Like an architect of nature," 
 Trendelenburg, the renewer of Aristotelian teleology in our 
 century, admiringly exclaims, " Cuvier outlines the means 
 and the form of construction of an animal species from the 
 idea of its purpose." * A few fragments of the skeleton of 
 an extinct animal species suffice to acquaint the master 
 with the plan of the whole, and enable him to reconstruct 
 the animal's form and functions before our very eyes. 
 
 How did the living beings arise ? Now they arise 
 through generation and growth ; the form is derived from 
 parent-individuals by heredity. But how did they arise 
 originally ? 
 
 The question is answered by atomistic materialism as 
 follows : By a spontaneous concurrence of atoms that move 
 according to general physical laws. In the infinite succes- 
 sion of blindly necessary movements, all possible arrange- 
 ments of the elements must be realized, among them in- 
 cidentally also those which exist in plant and animal forms. 
 Thousands of combinations may, perhaps, have fallen to 
 pieces again, but finally such too had to be formed as were 
 able to preserve and to propagate themselves. 
 
 Is that conceivable? the teleologist asks. Or, if con- 
 ceivable, is it possible to believe that such a process has 
 actually taken place ? So then, at some point of time, at 
 some place or other, here upon the naked earth or in the 
 slime or in the water or in the air, all the elements met 
 which make an eagle or a shark or a lion ? There stands 
 your lion, a happy conflation of atoms, provided with skin 
 and hair, with eyes and ears, with teeth and claws, with 
 heart and arteries full of circulating blood. Let the bold- 
 est fancy attempt to picture the process. And consider : at 
 the same lucky moment, the same accident had to make a 
 lioness, and that too, in the same place, for otherwise the 
 happy chance would still have been in vain ! And of course 
 it had to make also a beast to prey upon, a gazelle, or bet- 
 
 Logische Untersuchungen, 2d ed , 1862, n. 
 
154 THE COSMO LOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 ter, a pair of gazelles, or rather a number of such pairs, 
 enough for food, until a fresh supply was produced. 
 
 We shall have, to confess, if that is not incredible, then 
 nothing in this world is incredible. And the matter does 
 not become any the more plausible by letting the parts 
 arise separately, as Empedocles suggests : arms and legs 
 arise without a trunk, eyes and ears, without a head, and 
 then these meet, and in case they fit into one another, they 
 combine permanently. Aristotle is wholly in the right 
 when he opposes this view with the thought : the whole 
 exists before its parts ; the parts evolve within and out of 
 the whole, and can arise in no other way. The smallest 
 hair will not grow except on a body to which it belongs, 
 even if you shake the atoms together ever so long. And 
 now we are even to believe that the hairs on a lion-skin, 
 after having originated singly, after hundreds of thousands 
 of them had been whirled through the world singly, — that 
 one day these hairs suddenly came together on a skin, each 
 inserting itself into its pre-established hole ! Why, it 
 would be a hundred times easier to believe that once upon 
 a time, say perhaps in consequence of an earthquake, 
 thousands of fragments of stone were so polished and 
 shaken together as to produce a Doric temple and at 
 another time a Gothic steeple, or that some one shaking 
 millions of types out of a big bag had finally succeeded in 
 getting them to fall together in exactly the right way to 
 form an Iliad or an iEneid. 
 
 Indeed, Aristotle does these views no injustice when he 
 compares them to the delirium of drunken men, and praises 
 Anaxagoras for advancing the thought that it is reason 
 through which order is brought into chaos, and for placing 
 us upon the ground of a rational and conceivable view.* 
 
 There is nothing new and surprising to us in this 
 thought of Anaxagoras. It seems plausible to us, and 
 many a man of to-day will regard it as trivial. But in 
 those days it was a discovery. The gods of the popular 
 
 * Aristotle, Metaphysics, I. 4 (984b, 15) : vovv drj rzS eiitadv eveivai 
 Ka^drtep ev roi<* ^tipoiS kcci er ry (pvcrei vov airiov rov koctjuov 
 Kai r?/S rdzeooi TtdcrrfZ, oiov vrj<poov e^xxvrj nap elKrj Xeyovrai 
 rovS nporepov. 
 
Ch. IL] THE ATOMISTIC AND THEISTIC HYPOTHESES. 155 
 
 Grecian mythology were not creators or formers, but crea- 
 tions of the world. That the world might be the work of 
 a mind was a conception originally altogether foreign to the 
 Greeks. What makes Greek philosophy so attractive to 
 the man who studies it with historical appreciation is the 
 very fact that he perceives in it how the human mind 
 gradually begins to wonder at the world. The common 
 man is not surprised at objects ; he has been familiar with 
 them from his earliest childhood ; what is there so wonder- 
 ful in them ? That the sun, moon, and stars rise and set, 
 that plants and animals are born and grow, — well, that was 
 always so ; what is there so wonderful about that ? The 
 philosopher is the first to be astonished. Or rather, as 
 Plato and Aristotle observe, the beginning of philosophy 
 dates from the time when some one was astonished at and 
 began to reflect about what everybody had hitherto re- 
 garded as a matter of course. How did the firmament 
 arise, and what was the origin of plants and animals ? 
 With these questions concerning the origin of the big and 
 little worlds, Greek philosophy begins. And the first 
 answers are the above-mentioned attempts to explain 
 nature by the specific qualities and movements of original 
 elements. 
 
 It was Anaxagoras who first became aware of the in- 
 conceivability of these views. The more clearly and def- 
 initely they were formulated, and they were so formu- 
 lated by the philosophy of the atomists, the more dis- 
 tinctly their impossibility became apparent. And hence, 
 in the face of the mathematical uniformity of the world 
 and the eternal order of the heavenly motions, Anaxag- 
 oras, for the first time in the Greek world, expressed the 
 happy thought : From mind alone can order come. Plato 
 and Aristotle took up the idea ; it is the cardinal point in 
 their view of the world. Not blind movement, but the 
 power of a thought directed towards the good gives to 
 objects their form and reality, pervading them universally. 
 Of course, " another " must also be presupposed which, on 
 the one hand, receives these " thoughts," on the other, how- 
 ever, hinders their perfect realization — an irrational factor 
 beside the rational one : that is, matter. And thus the difli- 
 
156 THE C0SM0L0G1CAL-THE0L0GICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 culty which is involved in the new theory is presented : 
 How is thought related to matter ? Whence the power it 
 exerts upon the latter ? Has the cosmical reason eyes and 
 ears like the human workman ? Trendelenburg expresses 
 {Log. Unt., p. 74) the difficulty as follows : " Nowhere in 
 nature do we observe the point at which thought lays hold 
 of force and employs it for its ends, nor can speculation 
 discover it anywhere. The theory which seeks the inner 
 purpose places the ideal in the real, but it still lacks the 
 knowledge of how the ideal finds its way or enters into the 
 real. In human affairs, the purpose controls the execut- 
 ing hand, and this initiates the real occurrence. In the 
 case of the natural occurrence, the analogy breaks down 
 at this point, and into this breach in knowledge the doubt 
 enters which regards ends with suspicion. It is not impos- 
 sible," he adds with resignation, " that our knowledge 
 will be enlarged ; for the present it is enough to know 
 what we know and what we do not know." 
 
 Indeed, it is this " breach in knowledge " through 
 which doubt has entered again and again and disturbed 
 the teleological theory of nature. An explanation by 
 means of a thought, whose existence cannot be proved 
 empirically, and whose efficiency cannot be construed 
 physically or physiologically ! It is not strange that the 
 natural scientist was at a loss what to do with it and there- 
 fore found himself reduced once more to the mechanical ex- 
 planation. However improbable Empedocles's explanation 
 of the origin of organic beings may seem, it is nevertheless 
 an attempt to represent the process to intuition. By waiv- 
 ing a conception that may be rendered intelligible to the 
 imagination, the teleological hypothesis waives a natural- 
 scientific explanation altogether. 
 
 In this way we get the dilemma of the mechanical and 
 teleological vieivs of nature which runs through the whole 
 history of philosophy. In ancient philosophy, the school of 
 Epicurus renews the atomistic-mechanical-natural philoso- 
 phy of Democritus in opposition to the idealistic-teleologi- 
 cal speculation proceeding from Socrates. In modern phi- 
 losophy, the prevailing interest for natural science is a point 
 in favor of the former view. With the establishment of t*he 
 
Ch. II.] THE ATOMISTIC AND TEE1STIC HYPOTHESES. 157 
 
 new cosmical and physical conceptions in the sixteenth 
 and seventeenth centuries, a strong aversion to the teleo- 
 logical explanation of nature made itself felt, and this feeling 
 scholastic philosophy, the legacy of the middle ages, aided 
 by the church dogma and Aristotelian philosophy, found 
 it hard to suppress. The same feeling exists as a ten- 
 dency in Bacon and Descartes, while in Spinoza, who 
 absolutely rejects the teleological explanation of nature, it 
 reaches its climax. Then a reaction sets in again. In the 
 eighteenth century, the teleological conception of nature 
 is in the ascendant. In the popular philosophy of the 
 times in Germany and England, the explanation of nature 
 by the design of a supranaturalistic reason was perhaps 
 carried out more naively than ever before. This is due, on 
 the one hand, to the general conciliatory character of the 
 age, which is exemplified by the two philosophical leaders, 
 Leibniz and Locke. Another circumstance, however, also 
 contributed to it. The little world, the world of living 
 beings, offered a far more obstinate resistance to the 
 mechanical explanation than modern science had expected 
 in the first delirium of its triumph. One must read Des- 
 cartes's physiological treatises in order to appreciate how 
 confidently philosophy, equipped with the new principles, 
 approached the explanation of vital processes, convinced 
 that it must succeed before long in discovering every 
 mystery of life by revealing its mechanism. Instead, 
 anatomy and physiology continued to unearth newer and 
 more profound mysteries, especially with the aid of the 
 microscope. How helpless we stand to-day before the 
 mechanism of the nervous system, whose activity Descartes 
 finds it so easy to explain ! Thus it happened that though 
 the natural scientists did not exactly accept the teleological 
 view, they nevertheless let it pass for want of a better. 
 Even as late as the first half of the nineteenth century, the 
 atomistic-mechanical conception of nature seems almost 
 extinct. Yitalistic-teleological notions, such for instance 
 as Trendelenburg (not to mention speculative philosophy) 
 entertains, prevailed even among natural scientists. 
 
 Indeed, if we had to make our choice between Em- 
 pedocles and Anaxagoras, the decision could hardly be in 
 
158 THE COSMOLOGICAL- THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 doubt. That animals and plants should have accidentally 
 arisen, once upon a time, by the falling together of the 
 parts, is and will remain incredible. That was felt even by 
 such critical thinkers as Yoltaire and Hume. However 
 little they were inclined, as a rule, to make concessions to 
 the theological philosophy of the time, the denial of ends in 
 the organic world and the purely mechanical explanation 
 nevertheless seemed to them a hopeless matter. Of course, 
 the weakness of the teleological view did not escape them 
 either. And so they found themselves confronted by an 
 insoluble dilemma. 
 
 It is the modern biological conception, whose most 
 recent development is connected with Darwin's name, 
 which seems to offer the only escape, at least from the most 
 immediate and perplexing difficulties. However, before I 
 enter upon this subject, I should like to make a few criti- 
 cisms on the old teleological argument. Even in our day 
 the matter possesses an interest that is not merely historical. 
 
 3. Critique of the Teleological Argument. 
 
 Let me introduce the critical discussion with a general 
 remark concerning the value of the teleological argument 
 for religion and metaphysics. 
 
 The real thing which the argument ought to prove 
 is the proposition : The formation of the corporeal world 
 cannot be explained without assuming a cause that operates 
 according to design. The tendency still exists in many 
 circles to regard this argument as a part of the philosoph- 
 ical substructure of theology, or even as an indispensable 
 support of the belief in God, and hence to view a criticism 
 of it as an attack upon religion. 
 
 It seems to me, religion is not at all interested in these 
 cosmological speculations. Keligion does not rest upon a 
 hypothesis concerning the origin of living beings, any more 
 than it rests upon a definite idea of the astronomical form 
 of the world. Its concern with such matters, if it has any at 
 all, is only with the objective truth and subjective truthful- 
 ness of our knowledge. What is dangerous to it as well as 
 to all things human is the alliance with error and false- 
 
Ch. II.] CRITIQUE OF THE TELEOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 159 
 
 hood. The church ought to have learned so much at 
 least from her unfortunate conflict with modern cosmology 
 in the seventeenth century, that it is under no circumstances 
 advisable for her to affiliate with any scientific system. 
 When the church made the Aristotelian-Ptolemaic cos- 
 mology an article of faith, she applied the axe to the 
 roots of her faith. Every blow that struck the false 
 theory also struck the church. The same effect is bound 
 to ensue if the church declares a certain biological view 
 as a part of her doctrine. The persons who see in Dar- 
 winism the final destruction of religion well illustrate this 
 fact. By removing the Mosaic account of creation, and 
 Adam and Eve, they say, Darwin has, at the same time, 
 made superfluous for biology, " the hypothesis of a God " 
 which cosmology had long ago abandoned. From youth 
 they have been taught to regard the existence of God as 
 proved and assured by the teleological argument ; now 
 they no longer have confidence in the old proof and con- 
 sequently reject the thing itself. Nothing is more danger- 
 ous to a good cause than false arguments. 
 
 It seems that Darwin himself underwent the same 
 experience. He lost his religion when he lost his confi- 
 dence in Paley's evidences. He says : " The old argument 
 from design in Nature, as given by Paley, which formerly 
 seemed to me so conclusive, fails, now that the law of nat- 
 ural selection has been discovered. "We can no longer 
 argue that, for instance, the beautiful hinge of a bivalve 
 shell must have been made by an intelligent being, like the 
 hinge of a door by man."* "At the present day," he con- 
 tinues, " the most usual argument for the existence of an 
 intelligent God is drawn from the deep inward conviction 
 and feelings which are experienced by most persons." 
 Formerly he was led by feelings such as those just referred 
 to, to the firm conviction of the existence of God and of the 
 immortality of the soul. The grandeur of the Brazilian 
 forest, he says, used to inspire him with religious awe. 
 " But now the grandest scenes would not cause any such 
 convictions and feelings to rise in my mind. It may be truly 
 
 * Charles Darwin's Life, ed. by his son, Francis Darwin, p. 63. 
 
160 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 said that I am like a man who has become color-blind." 
 In another passage he mentions the fact that his love for 
 poetry has gradually disappeared — a proof of the withering 
 effect which continual scientific investigation may exert 
 upon the soul ! His state was, however, evidently precon- 
 ditioned by the original intellectualistic bent of his religious 
 convictions, formed by his early instruction. He has a 
 feeling of having been cheated by false theories and proofs, 
 and therefore looks with distrust upon the entire church. 
 This is an every-day occurrence. Consequently it is a vital 
 question for the church to assume a proper attitude towards 
 science. The mutual distrust existing between science and 
 the church is fatal to her. The proper attitude for her, 
 however, does not consist in always accepting the latest 
 theories, but in making herself altogether independent of 
 scientific and philosophical theories. What I offer, she must 
 say, is valid, whether Copernicus or Ptolemy, Darwin or 
 Agassiz, is right. The gospel is and has no system of cos- 
 mology and biology, it preaches the kingdom of God which 
 is to be realized in the heart of man. It does not rest upon 
 unexplainable natural events and miracles, but upon the 
 experiences of the heart which finds in it peace and blessed- 
 ness. 
 
 Indeed, I am convinced that nothing in our time is so 
 dangerous to the belief in God and his kingdom, at least 
 in scientific circles, as the attempt to foist anthropomor- 
 phic theism upon the understanding, as a scientifically 
 necessary theory of the universe, by means of antiquated 
 arguments that conflict with natural-scientific investigation. 
 (It will be seen later on in what sense anthropomorphic 
 theism has been and always will be possible.) Ignorance 
 was ever a weak support ; to attempt to cling to it looks 
 like a tendency to obscurantism, which makes ignorance the 
 basis of clerical domination : nam sciunt, quod sublata igno- 
 rantia stupor, h. e. unicum argumentandi tuendceque autoritatis 
 medium, quod hdbent, tollitur (Spinoza, Eih., I., Appendix). 
 
 The teleological argument which tries to pick flaws 
 in the physical explanation of nature in order thus to 
 prove the need of assuming non-physical causes is not a 
 fit support for religion. Nor is it a fit support for an 
 
Ch. IL] CRITIQUE OF THE TELEOLOGIGAL ARGUMENT. 161 
 
 idealistic philosophy, for a true teleological conception of 
 the universe. It simply leads to the denial of all ends in 
 reality. The natural philosophy which in our times insists 
 upon the insufficiency of the physical explanation appears 
 solely as an ally of " indolent reason," which it is the pri- 
 mary business of scientific investigation to repudiate. It is 
 the legitimate triumph of Darwinism that it wrested from 
 the ignava ratio the territory which she considered most 
 peculiarly her own, the field of vital phenomena, and opened 
 it to scientific research. No one rejoices at the defeat 
 of the idea of design as such, but those of us who have 
 theoretical tendencies cannot but welcome the overthrow 
 of the ignava ratio. 
 
 Let us not be deceived ! Natural science will never 
 again be decoyed from its path, which seeks a purely physi- 
 cal explanation of all natural phenomena. There may be 
 a thousand things which it cannot explain now, but the 
 fundamental axiom that these too have their natural causes 
 and therefore a natural-scientific explanation, will never 
 again be abandoned by science. Hence the philosophy 
 which insists that certain natural processes cannot be ex- 
 plained physically without a remainder, but necessitate the 
 assumption of a metaphysical principle or a supranatural 
 agency, will have science for its irreconcilable foe. The 
 two can live in peace only on condition that philosophy abso- 
 lutely refrain from interfering with the causal explanation of 
 natural phenomena, and allow natural science quietly to 
 finish its journey. But would this mean that there is no 
 place for philosophy ? Would a metaphysic find nothing 
 more to do, would the completion of the natural-scientific ^- 
 explanation exhaust our theoretical interest in reality ? I 
 think not. For now a new question arises. What does it 
 all mean? If astronomy had completely explained the 
 cosmical processes by physical laws, if biology had com- 
 pletely revealed to us the origin and mechanism of organic 
 vital processes, the question would remain, What is the 
 meaning of this entire play of forces, what is that which 
 meets us in the thousand forms and movements of the 
 corporeal world ? Or is nothing else involved in it, is the 
 corporeal world the whole of reality, and does the physical 
 
162 THE COSMOLOGICAL- THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 explanation dispose of everything ? Concerning this point 
 we have already come to an understanding in the preced- 
 ing chapter on the ontological problem. Perhaps we may 
 say : There never was a man and there never will be a 
 man whom such an explanation can really satisfy. Natural- 
 scientific thought does not really desire to deny the exist- 
 ence of another, say of an ideal factor of reality in addition 
 to the physical elements, in materialism ; it rejects the em- 
 ployment of this ideal principle as a physical explanation. 
 There is no opposition whatever between the mechanical 
 explanation and the idealistic interpretation as such. The 
 conflict arises only when the idealistic interpretation strives 
 to take the place of the causal explanation, and to render it 
 superfluous. 
 
 To use an illustration : Suppose we had a sheet of paper 
 with characters printed on it. It suggests two questions. 
 How were the characters on the paper produced ? and, 
 What do they mean % The first question is answered by a 
 description of the machinery and work in a printing-office ; 
 the other by an exposition of the thoughts which are 
 expressed by these characters. The two answers may 
 exist side by side, and one cannot be substituted for the 
 other. The same is true of our knowledge of nature. The 
 physical explanation is necessary, but it does not settle 
 everything ; the question concerning the meaning remains. 
 On the other hand, the endeavor to discover the meaning 
 cannot take the place of the causal explanation. Should the 
 attempt be made, the natural scientist must repudiate it 
 and say : That is not at all what my question called for ; 
 what I desire to know as a natural scientist is not the 
 meaning, but the process employed in producing the 
 signs, the mechanism of the printing-establishment, as 
 it were. It would be a foolish misunderstanding on the 
 part of the metaphysician to believe that he can answer 
 the question by referring to thought ; still more foolish 
 would it be were the natural scientist to feel himself called 
 upon to deny to these signs all thought or significance. 
 
 Hence : Everything must occur and be explained physically ; 
 and Everything must be considered and interpreted metaphysi- 
 cally. This is the formula on which physicists and meta- 
 
Ch. IL] CRITIQUE OF THE TELEOLOGIGAL ARGUMENT. 163 
 
 physicians can agree. We need not discuss how large a 
 remainder is left over in both cases and on which side it is 
 the greater. The hostility between the two is due to their 
 tendency to encroach. On the part of the natural scientist 
 it manifests itself as a tendency to negate the metaphysical 
 altogether : Only the physical exists ; reality has no other 
 side than the one facing me. On the part of the metaphy- 
 sician it appears as the tendenc}^ to wrest from the scientist 
 as much of nature as possible, and to reserve it for meta- 
 physical explanation only. 
 
 And here we are obliged to confess that the metaphysi- 
 cians have invariably betrayed a strong and almost irresisti- 
 ble desire to interfere with the physical explanation, thereby 
 provoking materialism absolutely to repudiate metaphysics 
 and to posit the physical world as the only absolute reality. 
 This propensity appears in the shallow and garrulous 
 natural theology of the last century, in which the discovery 
 of the " utility of things " or of the " purpose of the crea- 
 tor " was to serve for an explanation. It also appears under 
 a different form in the haughty and scornful Speculative 
 Philosophy which, though generally recognizing empirical 
 science as a mental activity, regards it as an inferior mental 
 activity, and takes occasion to discipline and correct 
 science. For had she not fathomed it all ? And, if she 
 only thought it worth her while, she certainly could explain 
 the causal nexus of things. We find the tendency, how- 
 ever, even in such philosophers as have formed a true 
 conception of the relation between physical explanation 
 and metaphysical interpretation. This may be said of 
 Schopenhauer, for example. His view concerning the rela- 
 tion between physics and metaphysics is, in general, the 
 one indicated above. But at the same time, he is ever ready 
 to meddle with the business of the physicist, that is, to 
 replace a deficient physical explanation with a metaphys- 
 ical one. There is really no causal relation between the 
 metaphysical element (the will) and the physical one. 
 Such a relation obtains between objects, but not between 
 a thing-in-itself and its phenomenon. " We have as little 
 right to appeal to the objectifications of the will as to the 
 creative power of God, as a substitute for the physical 
 
164 THE C0SM0L0GICAL-THE0L0G1CAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 explanation. For physics demands causes ; the will, how- 
 ever, is never a cause." " The aitiology of nature and the 
 philosophy of nature do not conflict with one another, but 
 exist side by side, considering the same object from a dif- 
 ferent point of view." At other times, however, he concerns 
 himself with phenomena which, in his opinion, the physi- 
 cist cannot explain : the vital processes, for instance. He 
 is indignant at the " stupid denial of vital forces " and the 
 attempt "to explain phenomena of life by physical and 
 chemical forces, and to let these in turn originate from the 
 mechanical action of the matter, position, form, and motion 
 of imaginary atoms." " Let us suppose that this could be 
 done ; then everything would, of course, be explained and 
 fathomed, nay, finally be reduced to arithmetical calcula- 
 tions, which would be the holiest of holies in the temple 
 of wisdom." Metaphysics here cries a halt to physics, to 
 the aitiology of nature, in order to take the matter in hand 
 herself.* 
 
 * Welt als Wille u. Vorstellung, I. §§ 24 ff. (tr. by Haldane and Kemp, 
 3 vols. 1883-86). Compare also the passage in Willein der Natur (section on 
 Comparative Anatomy) (tr. in Bonn's Library) in which he corrects Lamarck 
 by means of metaphysics. Lamarck, he says, was not able to conceive 
 the development of living beings except in time-succession; because of 
 his ignorance of Kantian epistemology, the thought never struck him 
 that the will of the animal as a thing-in-itself is outside of time and yet 
 determines its structure and organization. This also explains Schopenhauer's 
 interest in all kinds of abnormal phenomena, animal magnetism, clairvoy- 
 ance, sympathetic cures, etc. Physics is powerless here, but metaphysics 
 can explain things by a will that is not bound by space and time, and 
 hence the phenomena in question confirm the theory. In this way it hap- 
 pens that even Schopenhauer's philosophy is discredited by natural scientists 
 who find much else in it to attract them. 
 
 The physicist is repelled by the same circumstance in the Philosophy 
 of the Unconscious. It, too, refers to the gaps in the physical causal 
 nexus and then introduces the metaphysical principle of the unconscious. 
 v. Hartman himself, let it be said, has a very clear conception of the rela- 
 tion between physics and metaphysics. In his treatise, Das Unbewusste vom 
 Standpunkt der Descendenztheorie, which he first published anonymously, 
 he places himself wholly on the standpoint of natural science : all natural 
 processes are physically conditioned. In the preface which he added to a 
 new edition of the treatise, now appearing under his name (Philos. des 
 TJnbew., lOte Aufl. in. 40 ff.), he makes the following remark concerning 
 the weakness of his original position : The philosophy of the uncon- 
 scious needs correction in this, that it underestimates or wholly overlooks 
 the mechanical relation in its exposition. He should not have said that 
 
Ch. IL] CRITIQUE OF THE TELEOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 165 
 
 Let me make a few critical remarks on the teleological 
 argument. It maintains, as we have seen, that certain 
 phenomena of nature, especially the organic formations, 
 cannot be explained purely physically. Their similarity 
 to products of human art and design is so great that they 
 can be explained only as a system of means and ends 
 which owes its arrangement to an intelligent being. And, 
 therefore, since these formations are inseparably connected 
 with nature, the whole of it must be regarded as the work 
 of intelligence. 
 
 If the proof is not to confine itself to merely denying 
 the possibility of a physical explanation, if it is to become 
 a positive theory of existence, then it must solve two prob- 
 lems : (1) It must reveal the end which that intelligence 
 had in view ; (2) it must show that nature is an appropriate 
 system of means for realizing that end. 
 
 As far as the end is concerned, we shall content our- 
 selves, for the present, with the statement which all tele- 
 ology ultimately makes, that it consists in the welfare of 
 living beings. " God created everything for the sake of 
 living beings, and these for their own welfare." Thus 
 S. Reimarus defines the purpose of things in his teleologi- 
 cal philosophy of nature, which was so highly esteemed in 
 the last century.* 
 
 Now, how about the means? Does nature appear to 
 the impartial observer as a system of means to this end ? I 
 fear, it would be a hard task to force such a view upon any 
 
 he overlooked it, but that his philosophy made the insufficiency of mechan- 
 ical causation a proof that the unconscious is a necessary principle. Now 
 that he is better informed why does he retain this unfortunate standpoint? 
 Because " the question is of secondary importance only " ? That is a 
 strange excuse on the part of a man who lays such stress on his agreement 
 with natural science. Can it be that he finds it hard to repudiate the work 
 which gave him such sudden fame, even though he has outgrown much 
 that it contains ? His pessimism is in the same predicament. At any rate, 
 he shows a tendency in his later writings to treat it as a detachable piece of 
 the system, the rejection of which would be no more equivalent to the 
 abandonment of the system itself than the rejection of the view that the 
 unconscious element expresses itself not only in but also alongside of the 
 natural process. 
 
 * S. Reimarus, Die vornehmsten Wahrheiten der natürlichen Religion 
 (3d ed. 1766, p. 300). 
 
166 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 one who is not already convinced of it. First, consider 
 the procedure of nature in the production of living beings. 
 Does it resemble human purposive action ? If, in order to 
 shoot a rabbit, a man were to discharge millions of gun- 
 barrels into all possible directions at random, would any- 
 body call this an expedient way of killing rabbits? * Well, 
 the procedure of nature in the production of living beings 
 is not altogether unlike this. She places thousands of 
 germs into the world in order to bring one to complete 
 development. A single female fish lays hundreds of thou- 
 sands of eggs a year. If all these germs were to thrive, de- 
 velop, and leave the same number of offspring, all streams 
 would in a few years be filled with fish. But such is not the^ 
 case ; nor is the earth full of hares or rabbits, though the 
 offspring of a single pair would, as has been figured out, in 
 a few years amount to millions if all were preserved. The 
 reason for it is that of a thousand vital germs but one re- 
 mains alive ; the others perish during the different stages of 
 development from a lack of favorable conditions of growth, 
 though they are in themselves capable of life. Destruc- 
 tion is the rule, preservation and evolution, the exception. 
 Popular reflection overlooks this fact ; it sees only the favor- 
 able cases. The unfavorable ones are not noticed, that is all. 
 It is just as in a lottery, where there are a thousand blanks 
 to every prize. The blanks are forgotten, while every- 
 body talks about the great prize. Hence the probability 
 of winning seems great. Still, we should not have a very 
 favorable opinion of the logic of the man who undertakes 
 to prove that the lottery is a suitable way of acquiring a fort- 
 une. Well, it would be the same kind of logic which the 
 surviving fish and rabbits or their philosophical advocates 
 would employ in order to prove that nature is an institution 
 whose purpose it is to produce fish and rabbits. Cicero's 
 mariner was a better logician. He was exhorted to insure 
 himself against shipwreck by votive offerings to Poseidon. 
 His attention was called to the many votive tablets hang- 
 ing in the temple. He answered with the question : And 
 where are the tablets of those who have perished ? 
 
 * The illustration is found in F. A. Lamre, Gesch. des Mat., n. 246. 
 
Ch. IL] CRITIQUE OF THE TELEOLOGIGAL ARGUMENT. 167 
 
 A Darwinistic defender of teleology might, perhaps, 
 answer : An excess of vital germs is necessary to maintain 
 the struggle for existence by means of which the form is 
 enhanced. Good. But now observe the manner in which 
 death reaps its harvest. The cholera comes. It mows 
 down the old and the young, wise men and fools, the 
 healthy and the sick, the sound and the maimed, without 
 making any great distinctions. It may be that on the aver- 
 age the strong and the prudent prove themselves somewhat 
 more capable of resistance. Nevertheless we must con- 
 fess that it is a very clumsy and unreliable procedure, — this 
 method of mechanical averages whose teleology, when 
 measured by human standards, is not of a very high order. 
 
 Or consider the facts which Haeckel collected under 
 the title of dysteleology. Of what value to the organism 
 are certain useless or injurious formations like the vermi- 
 form appendix, which, as far as we can see, is of no use to 
 any one, but the cause of agonizing ruin to thousands ? 
 
 Or look at the facts which might be called geographical 
 or cosmic dysteleologies. It is plain that if the teleologi- 
 cal philosophy of nature undertakes to explain the structure 
 and organization of living beings by appealing to a cosmi- 
 cal or supramundane intelligence, it must also deduce 
 the form of the earth, and finally, the entire cosmic sys- 
 tem, from the purposes of that intelligence. Is there a 
 teleological geography ? Can there be such a science ? It 
 is true, there are parts of the earth's surface which are 
 admirably suited as habitations for living beings. But 
 there are, none the less, large areas which appear to be 
 entirely useless for such a purpose. We may even leave 
 out of account the extensive polar zones and the great 
 oceans. The former might perhaps be justified as being 
 cosmically necessary, the latter as having a teleological use 
 for the climatic conditions of the continents. Besides, they 
 are not devoid of living beings themselves. But what is 
 the use of the enormous desert stretching across the two 
 great continents of the Old World? Could not Sahara 
 have been left out ? It certainly might have been omitted 
 without any great trouble. If the gulf which cuts into the 
 northern coasts of Africa had been carried a few hundred 
 
168 TEE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 miles farther, making a second Mediterranean Sea, some- 
 thing like the Baltic Sea in Europe, with a long line of 
 coasts ; if in addition to that, the mountains of this shapeless 
 continent had been placed and grouped differently, a whole 
 new world would have been gained. We admire the con- 
 figuration of Greece and Europe, but it seems as though 
 all art and care had been exhausted upon them and little 
 or nothing had been done for the immense expanses of 
 country in Asia, Africa, and Australia. It may be that 
 a more perfect insight than ours can solve the riddle. 
 Here, however, we have to do with a proof, with a theory, 
 and such a theory can be constructed, as Hume some- 
 where says, not out of what we do not know, but only out 
 of what we do know. 
 
 And how about teleological cosmology? Are the other 
 heavenly bodies, or even the other planets of our system, 
 suitable habitations for living beings ? Or have they been 
 neglected like the continents just mentioned? We have 
 no means of answering the question. Suppose now some 
 one were to deny it ? Suppose he could make it appear 
 probable that at least some of these bodies are not 
 adapted to support life, that our earth owes its life to its 
 fortunate position, and that the other planets, though hav- 
 ing as great an excess of organizable matter as the earth, 
 cannot produce life on account of a lack or superfluity 
 of solar heat or because of other conditions ? No one 
 can furnish such a proof ; the forms and conditions of 
 earthly life are not conditions of life in general. Nor can 
 any one prove the opposite ; and hence it follows that it is 
 not insight but caprice to assert that the universe is a 
 structure arranged for the purpose of sheltering living 
 beings. 
 
 If we expose a glass containing a vegetable infusion to 
 the air, a mass of living beings will be generated in it 
 within a short time, a mass of infusoria, which take their 
 name from the infusion. Biologists tell us that the germs 
 of such beings are diffused all over the atmosphere. When 
 they find a favorable soil, such, for example, as a vegetable 
 infusion presents, they come to life. If these animals were 
 natural philosophers, they might reason as follows : Our 
 
€h. IL] CRITIQUE OF THE TELE0L0Q1GAL ARGUMENT 169 
 
 existence is possible only through the special composition 
 and temperature of the great ocean in which we are fort- 
 unate enough to live. It must, therefore, be assumed that 
 our ocean and its further surroundings, if there should be 
 such, were made by a creator who desired that we should 
 live. If, however, these animals were to learn that at the 
 very moment in which a favorable current of air blew them 
 into the glass of water, millions of equally viable germs 
 dropped by the side of it and perished, would they still 
 adhere to their teleological philosophy ? And should we, 
 if they did, praise their logic ? 
 
 So the matter stands with the solution of this part of 
 the problem, the demonstration that nature is a system of 
 means adapted to living beings. We turn our attention 
 to the assumed end. 
 
 It is true, no human teleology can discover it except in 
 the existence of living beings. Without life, the world 
 would be absolutely indifferent and unintelligible to us. 
 The problem of the teleology of design would therefore be 
 to show that our living world exactly answers the highest 
 purpose and represents the absolute good. It will have 
 to show that the thousand different animal and plant 
 forms are requisite to the realization of the best possi- 
 ble world. Has anything like that ever been done, or 
 has it even been attempted? The interpreter of a play 
 is able to show us the inner necessity of each person, of 
 each action, of each scene, of each line in the drama. 
 Has any one in the same way revealed the inner necessity 
 of every animal and vegetable species? Has it been made 
 plain that something would be wanting if any particular 
 species had been omitted ? 
 
 Or is that not necessary ? Are the meaning and worth 
 of each form self-evident to us ? Do we immediately feel 
 that reality is enriched by it ? Manifestly not. We should 
 soon be at an end, were we to try to enumerate the forms 
 of life, especially of animal life, whose value our feelings 
 concede without further question. The number of species 
 which give us pleasure and are valuable is small com- 
 pared with the infinite number of beings that are com- 
 pletely indifferent or repulsive and obnoxious to us. The 
 
170 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 destruction of the thousand forms of creeping things would 
 not hurt our feelings in the least. No one but the zoolo- 
 gists, and among these only the specialists, would notice 
 the loss. Nay, numerous forms of life cannot be contem- 
 plated by us without abhorrence and dread. I simply call 
 to mind the parasitic existences which subsist in or upon 
 the bodies of other beings. How human feeling regards a 
 large portion of the animal world is shown by the circum- 
 stance that their origin was once naively attributed to the 
 devil. The church doctrine extricates itself from the diffi- 
 culty by inserting between God and nature, as it now exists, 
 the fall of man, with which ruin came into God's creation. 
 
 Well, all those creatures which popular zoology classi- 
 fies as vermin, a term not expressive of high regard, were 
 created by nature with the same care as others. The 
 suctorial organ of the bedbug is, so the initiated assure 
 us, a real wonder of technics. It is plain that we are 
 obliged to draw the same conclusion from this as from the 
 structure of the human eye. It is also plain, however, 
 that we are thus placed before a new and immense riddle : 
 How can a mind of whose technical knowledge we must 
 have so high an opinion attach any importance to the 
 existence of such creatures? 
 
 Perhaps some one will remonstrate, saying : It is imma- 
 terial whether we are able to understand the value of these 
 formations or not. This mode of thinking is a survival of 
 the narrow view of the old anthropocentric teleology, which 
 derived the worth of everything from its relation to man. 
 A different way of looking at things has long been preva- 
 lent among sensible men, namely, the idea of immanent 
 teleology. This does not inquire into the utility or value 
 of a species for man, but considers every creature as an end 
 in itself. Existing for its own sake, its existence is justified 
 if it finds satisfaction in its being. 
 
 Let us suppose it were really so. Then we should 
 have to prove that inner organization and external environ- 
 ment universally constitute a system of means whose end 
 is to render the existence of living beings satisfactory or 
 happy. Has the argument been made ? Can it be made ? 
 I do not believe it. Nay, it would not be difficult to repre- 
 
Ch. IL] CRITIQUE OF THE TELEOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. Ill 
 
 sent the facts in such a way as to suggest that the Creator 
 was indifferent to this end. 
 
 The life of all animals is a constant struggle for exist- 
 ence, i.e., for the conditions of life. For the great majority 
 the struggle probably results in defeat long before the 
 animal's inner vitality is exhausted. Of a thousand germs 
 perhaps not one is developed, and of a hundred developed 
 beings probably not one dies a natural death. The rest 
 meet with a violent end in consequence of some unfavorable 
 external circumstance, hunger and frost and all kinds of 
 accidents, above all in consequence of a dreadful calam- 
 ity : the animal becomes a prey to its enemies. That is not 
 an exceptional case for which some excuse might be found, 
 but the rule. It is the lot of most animals to serve as food 
 for others : their life is a continual escape from and de- 
 fence against stronger pursuers or little parasitic enemies. 
 Why do such things happen if satisfaction or happiness is 
 the end ? Why not enable all animals to subsist in some 
 other way, by vegetable diet or by the immediate assimi- 
 lation of inorganic substances in suitable combinations? 
 Why make them dependent on their fellow-creatures ? 
 Why make the living bodies themselves the fostering soil 
 for the enemies that devour them ? 
 
 The impartial biologist will perhaps see the facts in an 
 altogether different light : pleasure and pain are not ends 
 and evils, but means to the preservation of life. The animal 
 is impelled by pain to escape injury and destruction, en- 
 ticed by pleasure to seek what is useful and tends to pres- 
 ervation. And as far as I can see, the biologist would 
 add, nature employs both means without preference. If, 
 however, one of them is to be preferred, it is most likely 
 pain rather than pleasure. Consequently, the end at which 
 nature aims seems to be the preservation of life, and 
 furthermore, the preservation of the species rather than 
 that of the individual. The production and preservation of 
 specific types is, therefore, the actual purpose of nature. 
 
 This would again place us before the riddle, How can 
 the existence of all these forms of life be the end of a mind 
 similar to our own? To answer the question by saying 
 that every animal is an end in itself, simply means to count 
 
172 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 on a person's stupidity and to put him off with an empty 
 phrase. If we simply regard reality as we find it, as the 
 absolute end, then, of course, it does not require great skill 
 to show that nature is a system of means perfectly adapted 
 to the realization of this end. If the pebbles on the sea- 
 shore are " ends in themselves," then we can prove from 
 them that the order of nature is the product of a mind 
 operating according to design, Then, of course, the entire 
 earth had to be so constructed, the ocean had to be so 
 moved by wind and weather, the sun and moon had to be 
 moved exactly so as to let these particular waves, having 
 this particular force and direction, strike each stone. 
 Otherwise it could never have assumed the exact shape 
 which it now has. In view of these facts, I must confess 
 that the old anthropocentric teleology is still preferable to 
 its supercilious rival, the teleology of immanency. Here 
 at least we get an intelligible if not satisfactory answer to 
 the question concerning the universal end. The immanent 
 argument tries to put us off with a mere word : end in 
 itself. 
 
 This leads us to the question : Plow about the end and 
 its realization in the field in which we perceive things most 
 distinctly and make the surest judgments — in the world of 
 man? Can it be that the teleology of history has been more 
 fortunate in solving the problem than the teleology of 
 nature? From times immemorial, nations and individuals 
 have seen in the fate which they experienced, in the victor- 
 ies which they achieved, in the defeats which they suf- 
 fered, in the fortunes as well as the misfortunes that befell 
 them, the influence of the gods, the finger of Providence. 
 Has the philosophy of history succeeded in transforming 
 this belief into scientific knowledge ? 
 
 The problem of a teleological philosophy of history is 
 identical in form with that of natural teleology. It would 
 first have to set forth the end of historical life and then 
 show that the course of history is the direct road to that end. 
 
 In answer to the question concerning the goal, we get 
 general statements like these : The purpose of history is the 
 perfect development of the idea of man or humanity, the 
 evolution of all their powers and dispositions into diverse 
 
Ch. IL] CRITIQUE OF THE TELEOLOOIGAL ARGUMENT. 173 
 
 and harmonious forms ; or the introduction of reason into 
 nature ; or a life full of virtue, wisdom, love, and happi- 
 ness, — in short, heaven on earth. Granted. But now we 
 expect to see the perfect life concretely represented, to see 
 the contour filled out ; we expect a description of the rise 
 of different nations, for the perfect development of human- 
 ity does not exclude a plurality and diversity of peoples ; 
 we also expect to get a clear idea of the perfect form of 
 the religion of each nation, of its philosophy and science, 
 its literature and art, its social and political institutions,, 
 its family life and its education. Or is that an impossible 
 undertaking — impossible not only because our knowledge 
 or our imagination is unequal to the task, but also because 
 there can be no such goal, because life, at least life on our 
 earth, consists of movement and is not a state of rest ? 
 Then the problem would be to prove that the course of 
 history itself has absolute worth in all its parts, to show 
 how each part is ingeniously combined with the whole, 
 just as in an opera or a drama each part is conditioned by 
 an intelligible inner necessity. Each particular element 
 would then be a means to the end and a part of the end. 
 
 Hence the mere statement of the problem shows that it 
 cannot be solved. Such a philosophy of history would 
 have to show, not that each nation had to live in this par- 
 ticular climate, in this particular environment, in this par- 
 ticular proximity to other nations, in order to experience 
 what it experienced and to become what it became — for it is 
 self-evident that the Greeks would not have been the same 
 people had they been cast on the shores of India, nor would 
 the Mongolians have been the same had they been cast on 
 the shores of the iEgean Sea — but it would have to show 
 how such an environment, such contact with other peoples, 
 such fortunes, have made its historical life as complete and 
 rich in content as possible. It would have to show, for 
 example, how the perfect development of German history, 
 the highest evolution of the German spirit, was conditioned 
 by the proximity of Germany to France and Russia, by the 
 Thirty Tears' War and the division of Poland, by the in- 
 vention of printing and the distillation of brandy, and how 
 it was likewise necessary that the ascension of Charles V. 
 
174 THE CöSMOLOGICALTHEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 to the throne should coincide with the beginning of the 
 Reformation, Lessing's death with the appearance of the 
 Critique of Pure Reason and Schiller's Robbers. 
 
 Let us leave out of account the speculative philosophy 
 of history which imagines that it solves the problem by 
 enumerating the peoples and ages according to a certain 
 scheme, and by labelling each with a catchword to signify 
 that it has passed through the dialectic process. Outside 
 of this, very little has been attempted. Particular events 
 of importance have been selected and brought into relation 
 with their historical conditions as means and ends. Thus 
 it has become customary to look upon the Roman Empire 
 as a providential preparation for Christianity, and upon the 
 humanistic movement as a preparation for the Reformation. 
 Luther philosophized in a similar strain : No one knew 
 before why God made languages ; now it is plain to every 
 one that he did it for the sake of the gospel. It is true, 
 without such coincidences, history would have been differ- 
 ent. Would that have been a misfortune ? Was the tem- 
 porary agreement of Luther with Hütten and the other ene- 
 mies of the "obscurantists" a blessing? Who can say so? 
 Surely no one can tell what would have happened had the 
 factors been partially changed. We may say: The histor- 
 ical course of events, as it actually proceeded, was not the 
 only possible one ; but we cannot compare the possible 
 with the real and say : Of all possible ways this was the 
 best. Suppose the Peasant War had taken a different turn ; 
 suppose Columbus's ships had been sunk, or Charlemagne 
 had been slain by the Saxons ; or suppose the Straits of 
 Gibraltar were closed and, on the other hand, that the 
 Isthmus of Suez were a navigable channel ; and the whole 
 history of European nations would have been changed! 
 Whether for better or for worse, who can tell ? We may 
 believe that all has turned out for the best, and a natural 
 instinct which impels us to accept the actual as the neces- 
 sary and the usual as the good, leads us to think so, but we 
 cannot prove it. It is a mark of narrow-mindedness, which 
 sees nothing in the lap of possibility beyond what actually 
 exists, to hold that we can. It is the conviction of the 
 happy, self-conceited speculative method, which prides it- 
 
Ch. II.] CRITIQUE OF THE TELEOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 175 
 
 self on possessing in its concepts the world-moving forces 
 called "ideas," and holds that the latter make use of the 
 contingent facts of existence, be they what they may, with- 
 out being deflected from their pre-established course. 
 
 It is furthermore worthy of notice that two opposite 
 conceptions are formed of nearly all events that have 
 brought about great historical crises. The one regards 
 the occurrence as good, the other regards it as an evil. 
 Take the Reformation as it is viewed by Protestants and 
 Catholics. In one case, it is regarded as the deliverance of 
 the German people from degradation and bondage ; in the 
 other, as the beginning of all disorder and dissolution, from 
 which the church is again making a desperate effort to 
 save us. Or take the account of the French Revolution as 
 it is given by democrats and royalists. Or let the history of 
 the Jews be written by Canaanites, the history of Spain by 
 Saracens, the history of England by the peoples whom she 
 has trodden under foot and crushed, in all parts of the world. 
 The same events would, on the whole, be recorded, but with 
 opposite signs — a proof that in evaluating these facts we 
 are dealing, not with objective knowledge, but with sub- 
 jective feelings. 
 
 Nevertheless, there is a certain agreement in the inter- 
 pretation, and that is due to the circumstance that history 
 is ultimately written by one side, by the surviving victors 
 namely. The dead tell no tales. The same is true of those 
 who are defeated in internal conflicts. If the counter-Ref- 
 ormation had been successful, the history of the Reforma- 
 tion would live in the memory of men in some such way as 
 the Anabaptist movement. So it happens that by favor- 
 ing the victor and bringing about the present state, history 
 looks like a series of divine interpositions. If, in addition, 
 it happens that the curtain of the future is painted with 
 one's own hopes and ideals, then it is no wonder that things 
 harmonize and that the whole of history seems to be the 
 direct road to a predetermined goal. — It is this very cir- 
 cumstance which permits the theological philosophers of 
 history to forget the strange ending of the history of the 
 Jewish people. According to the old view, divine Provi- 
 dence is most conspicuous in the fortunes of this nation ; 
 
176 THE GOSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 nay, we have in holy Scripture the authentic story of the 
 way along which God led his chosen people. He chooses 
 the country and the neighboring peoples for their surround- 
 ings ; he inspires their judges and prophets, and gives them 
 personal instructions; he is constantly taking a hand in 
 their destinies, and helps them with miracles, — at the Bed 
 Sea and in the camp of the Assyrians before Jerusalenr, for 
 example ; for centuries he inspires men to preach and 
 prophesy the coming of a Messiah: and the end of the 
 whole story is that when the Messiah appears, the people 
 repudiate him, to be themselves repudiated by God as 
 stiff-necked. 
 
 The impossibility of a teleological interpretation be- 
 comes even more evident in the life of the individual. 
 At all times a man's own lot has been the ultimate and 
 deepest cause of the individual's belief in a governing 
 Providence. Significant crises in life depended on appar- 
 ent accidents ; an unforeseen issue suddenly led him out 
 of calamity and oppression ; even disagreeable occurrences 
 finally produced wholesome effects. You see that it was 
 not your foresight which gave your life a happy turn, and 
 you say reverently : " What is man, that thou art mindful 
 of him, or the son of man, that thou visitest him? " 
 
 But if you try to transform this faith into knowledge, 
 countless difficulties and doubts assail you. Of course, 
 everything that happened contributed to bring about the 
 present state. But is it the best possible condition ? Does 
 your whole life correspond to your ideal ? Was not a 
 more perfect, higher, purer realization conceivable ? And 
 what of those who foundered in the sea of life altogether? 
 Or are there no such men ? To say so would be to fly in 
 the face of facts. What was the trouble ? Did the gov- 
 erning hand fail to come to the rescue ? Or will you have 
 the boldness to say : The conditions of life and fortunes 
 they experienced were the best that the failures could have 
 had ; it is their own fault if in spite of them they did not 
 live a righteous and successful life ; any change in the 
 circumstances of their education or of society would have 
 resulted in still worse failure ? 
 
 I do not believe that any one will undertake to defend 
 
Ch. IL] CRITIQUE OF TBE TELEÖLOGICAL ARGUMENT 177 
 
 this view. If we can see anything in the facts, it is surely 
 this. There are few natures so hopeless that no conditions 
 of life could have made their lives bearable. In many cases 
 it seems obvious to us that the individual's failure to de- 
 velop properly was not due to his will and nature, but to 
 unfavorable circumstances, either to extreme poverty and 
 abject conditions, or to the abundance or dearth of serious 
 problems to impel and stimulate the will, or to the dull 
 indifference of his surroundings, or to the cunning seduc- 
 tion of wicked companions. 
 
 Hence it is impossible to get an insight even into the 
 teleological necessity of an individual life. Faith may, at 
 the end of the course, look back upon the intricate paths 
 over which it has been led and thankfully adore a higher 
 governance, but to speak of knowledge here would be pre- 
 sumption. Keligious feeling pronounces the same judg- 
 ment. It exclaims : " How unsearchable are his judgments, 
 and his ways past finding out ! For who hath known the 
 mind of the Lord, or who hath been his counsellor ? " 
 And to this confession of ignorance it forthwith adds the 
 confession of faith : " Of him, and through him, and to him 
 are all things : to whom be glory forever." (Rom. xi. 33 ff.) 
 
 After what we have said, it will not be necessary to 
 enter upon a detailed discussion as to whether the tele- 
 ology of history would be more successful if it were to 
 substitute general happiness for the objective conduct of life 
 in the sense of human perfection as its goal, and were then 
 to show that the facts are means to this end. One fact will 
 suffice to show how little such a view agrees with the senti- 
 ment common to mankind and hence with truth. The 
 two religions which have the most followers, Christianity 
 and Buddhism, are, in their origin at least, religions of 
 salvation. They promise, not happiness, but deliverance 
 from evil ; not by means of civilization and the satisfaction 
 of all needs, but by deliverance from desire, by deliverance 
 from the will to live, from the pursuit of worldly goods, 
 wealth, honor, and lust. Their judgment on the pleasure- 
 value of worldly life is unanimous : life is suffering, sin and 
 misery form the content of life of the natural man. Ac- 
 cording to Christian views, our terrestrial life is teleologi- 
 
178 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 cally justified only by the fact that it bears a relation to a 
 higher life, to the life beyond. It has meaning and import, 
 not as an end in itself, but as a period of preparation and 
 probation for eternal life. And this means, at the same 
 time, that a scientific teleological interpretation of human 
 life is not possible ; the supramundane life is not an object 
 of science but of faith. 
 
 Later on, it is true, Christianity entered upon closer 
 relations with the world, and a Christian philosophy 
 sprang into existence. It was then that a teleological 
 philosophy of history arose on Christian soil and in- 
 terpreted historical life as tending to the above-mentioned 
 transcendent goal. Such a confusion of the transcend- 
 ent and the empirical elements is, however, character- 
 istic of the entire development of science while the latter 
 was under the overmastering influence of the church. We 
 may also concede that the teleology of history has never 
 reached a system formally more complete than the phi- 
 losophy of the church : heaven and eternal happiness 
 the great goal of historical life ; the earth its tempo- 
 ral scene of action ; its central point the incarnation of God 
 and the foundation of the kingdom of heaven on earth ; all 
 past ages leading up to this great central event, the entire 
 future determined by it and imbued with it; the whole 
 course of history bounded by the creation on the one side 
 and the judgment-day on the other — indeed, such a simple 
 and grand philosophy of history that we cannot look back 
 upon it, in our helplessness, without a feeling of envy ! 
 "What are Hegel's or Comte's barren abstractions compared 
 with this concrete, living conception ? Of course, we must 
 console ourselves ! The simplicity with which the middle 
 ages jumbled together the elements of faith and knowledge 
 is not ours. We also lack the narrowness of their field of 
 vision. Their cosmic theory was destroyed by modern 
 astronomy. Similarly, their historical theories, which were 
 materially determined by the history of the old covenant 
 and, since the Christian era, by the history of the church, 
 have been overcome by historical research begun by hu- 
 manism. Our field of vision has been infinitely extended 
 by the most recent philologico- historical and biological 
 
€h. IL] CRITIQUE OF THE TELEOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 179 
 
 investigations. Not the caprice of human thought, but 
 the facts themselves, have burst the frame of the old sys- 
 tem. It is futile to join the fragments together again into 
 a, teleological demonstration. 
 
 Let us sum up. Neither natural nor historical teleology 
 lias the value of a scientific theory. No serious philosophy 
 can doubt this truth since the abandonment of the geocen- 
 tric and anthropocentric view of the universe. All proofs 
 that aim to force the understanding to recognize in the 
 cosmos the operation of a spirit acting according to design 
 fall infinitely short of the object of scientific argument. 
 
 But what, in spite of all, continued to turn men's thoughts 
 into the same old channel was, especially, the absolute 
 helplessness of natural philosophy in reference to the 
 question concerning the first origin of living beings. It 
 seemed incredible that, once upon a time, a lot of atoms 
 should have been accidentally jumbled together so as to 
 form such beings. And hence only one other explanation 
 appeared to be possible. 
 
 It is true, this did not help the natural scientist in the 
 least. The theory never possessed the worth of a satisfac- 
 tory explanation or even of a practical hypothesis. To ex- 
 plain phenomena in the sense of natural science means 
 to represent them as the natural and uniform effects of 
 known forces. Now intelligence is, in truth, a known agency, 
 that is, in the form in which it appears in human beings 
 and animals. But it is by no means known as a cosmical 
 agent. The natural scientist who is told that plants and 
 animals were originally created by an intelligence will at 
 once answer : Show me the nature of this intelligence and 
 the way it acts ; show me where, when, and, above all, 
 in what manner it created organic beings. If you cannot 
 do that, if you cannot get beyond the general proposition 
 that a mind has been at work in the organization of the 
 world, then I can do nothing whatever with your state- 
 ment. Such a force, which is assumed to have been oper- 
 ative once, but of whose nature and mode of activity 
 nothing whatever is known, is emphatically a vis occulta. 
 In my opinion, therefore, it is utterly immaterial whether 
 you answer the question concerning the first origin of 
 
ISO THE COSMOOLGICAL-TEEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 living beings by saying : A mind created them, we do not 
 know how, nor do we know anything further of the essence 
 of this mind ; or whether }^ou say : We do not know how 
 they originated. 
 
 And he might add : You say that the blind forces of 
 nature can create no living being, but I see daily that 
 they can. I place a seed of grain in the earth, and a stalk 
 grows out of it. The hen lays an egg, and, after a few 
 weeks of brooding, a chicken is hatched. True, I cannot 
 explain in detail all the forces and effects which take part 
 in the process, but this much I seem to observe : that de- 
 liberation and mental activity are not concerned in it, either 
 in the formation of the seed or in the production of the 
 egg or germ, or in the hatching or growth. If blind forces 
 are at present able to transform given matter into living 
 seed, and from this in turn to produce a living being, why 
 not originally ? Or if the co-operation of an intelligence 
 was necessary then, why not now as well ? If so, you are 
 certainly obliged to say : We cannot understand the growth 
 of the chick in the egg ; hence it is necessary to assume 
 an intelligence, a mind that even now combines together 
 the particles of matter in all the thousand eggs and germs, 
 which are daily produced, in such a manner as to form 
 living beings. And then it will also be necessary for the 
 same mind to effect the movements of the parts in the liv- 
 ing body. For we cannot expect blind forces to accom- 
 plish the task, whereas the intellectual powers of the living 
 beings themselves are apparently not the cause. What 
 does the chick just hatched know of muscles, nerves, and 
 digestion ? Nay, how much does the physiologist himself 
 know about them ? 
 
 4. The Theory of Evolution. 
 
 A new epoch in the treatment of the problem begins 
 with the establishment of the modern biological conception 
 of our age. The theory of evolution offers an escape from 
 the dilemma. It gives the natural or spontaneous origin 
 of living beings a form in which it is conceivable. It as- 
 sumes, as is known, that animals and plants did not sud- 
 denly arise from inorganic matter as perfect beings, in the 
 
Chap. IL] THE THEORY OF EVOLUTION. 181 
 
 forms in winch we now behold them ; it regards them 
 as the products of a long process of evolution. Not only 
 individuals but also species have their development. From 
 one or a few original forms with simple structure, diverse 
 and complicated formations gradually arose through the 
 co-operation of external and internal causes. In so far as 
 this view is able to adduce a long list of facts in its proof, 
 it is the first hypothesis which satisfies the formal demands 
 of a scientific explanation. The former theory, which 
 assumed that animal and plant species owe their origin to 
 an intelligence acting from without, is thereby finally over- 
 thrown as a natural-historical theory — overthrown, not by 
 being refuted, but, like every worn-out hypothesis, removed 
 "by the entrance of its legitimate successor, the better 
 theory. 
 
 The first to apply the notion scientifically was the 
 French biologist Lamarck, in his Philosophie Zoologique 
 (1809). The thoughts of the contemporaneous German 
 natural philosophers, Schelling, Oken, and Goethe, moved 
 along similar lines. Exact science at first assumed a coy 
 demeanor towards such extravagant hypotheses. At first 
 the soil had to be better prepared. This was accomplished 
 particularly by the development of geology and palaeon- 
 tology. The numerous extinct forms of life which were 
 gradually discovered made it certain that the organic 
 world had undergone great changes in the course of time. 
 The new facts were so many more obstacles in the way of 
 the old anthropomorphic hypothesis ; they necessitated the 
 assumption of great catastrophes and repeated destructions 
 of the organic world, as well as of corresponding repeated 
 creations — an assumption which, by completing anthropo- 
 morphism, at the same time reduced it to an absurdity. 
 The extinct forms appeared as so many unsatisfactor}' and 
 abandoned attempts. At the same time, geology cut the 
 very ground from under the old theory. Under Lyell's 
 leadership it went over to the conception that the earth 
 owes its form, not so much to single violent catastrophes 
 as to the summatioD, in long geological periods, of the 
 uniform effects of the same forces which are still operative 
 now. 
 
182 TEE COSMOLOGICAL-TEEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 Thus the times were prepared for the great revolution 
 in biological views which, is connected with Charles Dar- 
 win's name. The work in which he first presented the 
 new theory, On the Origin of Species by Natural Selection 
 (1859), marks the beginning of a new epoch, not only in 
 biology. Together with the work on The Descent of Man 
 (1871), it exercised a significant influence upon our entire 
 conception of the world, above all, upon the historical sci- 
 ences, including politics and morals. I shall attempt to 
 specify the main points of the theory. 
 
 Darwin's merit does not consist in his having been the 
 first to conceive the idea of evolution, nor, more properly, in 
 the discovery of the causes of transmutation — in an introduc- 
 tory historical sketch, he has himself shown with that frank 
 and joyful recognition of the merit of others which makes 
 him such an amiable scientific character, how all his 
 thoughts had been expressed before him, at least in out- 
 line — but in the application and verification of these ideas 
 in the world of facts. Darwin possesses the gift of ingen- 
 ious combination, critical judgment, and astonishing perse- 
 verance, and these powers enable him to form, from scat- 
 tered thoughts and facts, a theory, or rather a principle of 
 investigation, the fruitfulness of which in the hands of 
 others is the best proof of its value. 
 
 The principle of transmutation which Darwin regards 
 as the real motive force in the evolution of living forms 
 is the struggle for existence and the natural selection 
 depending upon it. 
 
 The essential question at stake here (if for the moment 
 we ignore the first origin of organic life) is this : Can new 
 species arise from the species existing now? Old biology 
 negates the question ; experience shows that the offspring 
 invariably resemble their parents. To be sure, slight vari- 
 ations in shape, size, color, etc., take place, but they are 
 deviations from a constant mean that constitutes the specific 
 type. The specific types are constant : that is the funda- 
 mental law of old biology. 
 
 Darwin's attention was early drawn to a field in which 
 these slight variations play an important part — the field of 
 domesticated animals and plants. In the case of domestic 
 
Chap. IL] THE THEORY OF EVOLUTION. 183 
 
 animals and cultivated plants, the deviations are not only 
 numerous and important, but they have become fixed into 
 permanent types, the varieties or breeds. Horses, cattle, 
 sheep, pigs, dogs, chickens, pigeons, and likewise garden 
 plants, fruit-trees, flowers, grains, appear in exceedingly 
 diverse and varying forms, all of which, however, point to 
 an original wild form as their common ancestor. And every 
 day the gardener or breeder produces new forms, new vari- 
 eties of flowers, pigeons, dogs, etc. How does it happen ? 
 Well, through natural selection. From the individuals at 
 hand such animals are selected for reproduction as possess 
 certain desired qualities in a marked degree — peculiar 
 plumage, fine wool, flesh, swiftness or strength, etc. From 
 the offspring which inherit the parental qualities, selec- 
 tions are again made according to the same principle. In 
 this way we produce, in a comparatively short time, by the 
 summation of slight differences, such considerable changes 
 in form as, for example, English cattle, sheep, and hogs 
 display in comparison with the original form. 
 
 "Well, says Darwin, nature acts in the same way on a 
 large scale ; she is the great breeder. She too selects the 
 individuals for the propagation of the species. It is true, 
 the selection is not an act of deliberation, and the guiding 
 principle is not, as in the former case, external utility for 
 man, but immanent utility, that is, utility for the preserva- 
 tion of the individual and the species. 
 
 Natural selection occurs as follows : Life is for the 
 living being a constant strife for vital conditions. The 
 number of creatures that live and desire to preserve them- 
 selves is always greater than the number of seats at the 
 table of nature — a consequence of her lavish production of 
 living germs. The fertility of species differs very much ; 
 but there is no species a single pair of which would not, un- 
 der favorable circumstances, be able to fill the earth 
 with their offspring in the course of a few centuries. That 
 this does not happen is due to the parsimony of life-condi- 
 tions. In the battle ensuing for the possession of these, the 
 great majority prematurely perish. It is, however, a fur- 
 ther fact that the individuals of a species do not enter the 
 struggle with exactly equal powers; many minute devi- 
 
184 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 ations occur. The result is that the individuals whose 
 variations are advantageous have the greatest prospect 
 of surviving the struggle ; superiority means preservation 
 of life. The qualities which constitute superiority may 
 be very different in kind: excessive strength, swiftness, 
 sagacity, and intelligence, or advantages in the possession 
 of weapons of defence or attack ; the power to avoid detec- 
 tion, or a greater ability to resist injuries of all kinds. 
 Each of these advantages may make its possessor superior 
 in a struggle, successful in flight, able to endure frost and 
 famine, while other less-favored animals will perish. Ac- 
 cordingly, also, the same individuals will have the best 
 prospects of leaving numerous offspring ; and by transmit- 
 ting to them their endowments, it happens that advantages 
 nvhich were at first individual gradually become properties 
 <of the species. The individuals best adapted to the condi- 
 tions of life determine the type of the species. A one-sided 
 excess in the evolution of certain qualities, for example in 
 'that of size or defensive organs or swiftness, could not be 
 the result, because such qualities would disturb the general 
 equilibrium and thus diminish the capability of life. An 
 animal economy must, like an economic or political system, 
 distribute its tasks among the different functions according 
 to the measure of their importance : among the functions 
 of defence, locomotion, nervous activity, etc. 
 
 In such a way, then, development or progressive evo- 
 lution, in the sense of immanent teleology, can take place 
 without the need of an intelligence, interfering from with- 
 out, as a principle of explanation. And with the enhance- 
 ment of the species, a differentiation of types also occurs. 
 The maximum of life possible at any given moment is 
 increased by a division into different types having different 
 needs and different organizations. More individuals of dif- 
 ferent species can exist together than individuals of one 
 species, because they fit into the vacant places and fill out 
 all possible space. Darwin shows the validity of the law 
 for plants. Deviation from the average in vital conditions 
 is an advantage that tends to preservation and hence to the 
 formation of new species. On it depends the disappear- 
 ance of the mean forms; the extremes do not come into 
 
Chap. II.] THE THEORY OF EVOLUTION. 185 
 
 such strong competition with each other. Here, too, a state 
 of equilibrium is gradually reached that represents the 
 maximum of life possible under such conditions. 
 
 Alongside of and together with the principle of natural 
 selection which Darwin places in the foreground, he fur- 
 thermore recognizes other principles as co-operative ; thus 
 the principle which Lamarck regarded as the essential 
 cause of variation : changes in the conditions of the earth's 
 surface. By producing alterations in vital conditions, they 
 necessitate modifications in function, and changes in the 
 use of organs finally lead to alterations in structure. 
 Migrations, which are occasioned by the struggle for exist- 
 ence, since it forces animals to wander, produce the same 
 effect. And as a second co-operative principle Darwin 
 mentions the principle of correlative changes. An organ- 
 ism is a unitary being that cannot be modified at any 
 point without necessitating compensatory changes in other 
 parts. As no side or angle of a triangle can be altered 
 without at the same time altering other sides or angles, 
 no part of the organism can be altered by itself. The 
 strengthening of one part of the skeleton, e.g., necessitates 
 corresponding changes in the other parts, were it only for 
 the purpose of maintaining the external equilibrium. It 
 is true, many changes take place here, the necessity of 
 which is by no means clear to us ; thus, for instance, there 
 is a connection between the development of the sexual 
 organs and simultaneous changes in habits and appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Such are the principles of transmutation of the new 
 theory. Do they solve the problem of the origin of species ? 
 
 First of all we must mention a fact that is not always 
 sufficiently considered. The presupposition of all develop- 
 ment, without which the above-mentioned principles would 
 have no support for their activity, is, of course, the will to 
 live, the will to struggle for existence, common to all beings 
 taking part in the evolution. They do not suffer the devel- 
 opment passively, they are not, like the pebbles in the 
 brook, pushed into a new form by mechanical causes acting 
 from without. Their own inner activity is the absolute 
 condition of the efficacy of natural selection. The strug- 
 
186 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book! 
 
 gle for existence is not imposed upon individuals from 
 without ; it is their own will to fight the battle ; and with- 
 out this will, the will to preserve and exercise individual 
 life and produce and preserve offspring, there could be no 
 such struggle for existence at all. And moreover, the 
 will to live is the absolute original precondition ; it cannot 
 in turn be derived from natural selection. Otherwise we 
 should have to assume that organic formations first arose 
 in which it did not yet exist and which were indifferent to 
 the preservation of individual and generic life ; that, then, 
 individuals possessing the first traces of such impulses 
 happened to arise through accidental variation, and were 
 thereby enabled to supplant others not possessing the 
 impulses for food and reproduction. 
 
 Many Darwinians are inclined to overlook this fact. 
 The most popular scheme of natural selection is that of a 
 purely mechanical selection ; as, for instance, the phenom- 
 enon of the adaptation of some insects to the soil on which 
 they live, according to color, form, and marks (the so- 
 called mimicry). The specific type of the insects is here 
 transformed in a purely mechanical way : those differing 
 most from their surroundings are continually eliminated 
 until at last only such remain as are the same in color. In 
 a similar manner the Madeira beetles are said to have lost 
 their wings. " For during many successive generations 
 each individual beetle which flew least, either from its 
 wings having been ever so little less perfectly developed or 
 from indolent habit, will have had the best chances of sur- 
 viving from not being blown out to sea ; and, on the other 
 hand, those beetles which most readily took to flight would 
 oftenest have been blown to sea, and thus destroyed." 
 {Origin of Species, chap. v. pp. 101 f.) 
 
 Since, in this case, we can hardly speak of an impulse 
 to avoid danger by inactivity, the transformation of the 
 specific types took place by a purely passive extermination. 
 This, however, is apparently but one of the occuring forms 
 of natural selection; here the struggle for existence is a 
 pure metaphor. It is not always metaphorical, however. 
 As a rule, the impulse to preservation is the precondition 
 of preservation, be it in competition with rivals or without 
 
Chap. II.] THE THEORY OF EVOLUTION. 187 
 
 such competition. Those who ignore the fact should be 
 reminded of Goethe's lines, which were not, of course, orig- 
 inally intended for them : 
 
 " Kein tolleres Versehen kann sein, 
 Giebst einem ein Fest und lädst ihn nicht ein." 
 
 Certainly, we do not mean by this will something supra- 
 natural, which occasionally projects its spectral activity 
 into the corporeal world. On the physical side we are to 
 interpret it according to the scheme devised in our onto- 
 logical discussion : the will to live is the same thing, looked 
 at from within, that meets the physicist externally as a 
 body organized in a given way. The physical fact which is 
 designated by the expression, will to live, impulse to 
 eat and propagate, is the tendency of an organic body 
 to react upon certain stimuli with movements and inner 
 activities that make for the preservation of the system, 
 that is, of any particular body and any particular species. 
 The concrete representation of the nature of such a system 
 is left to the physiologist. Its existence is not at all doubt- 
 ful : we perceive it plainly in every seed of grain, in every 
 impregnated egg ; it is nothing but a concrete tendency to 
 development, i.e., a system of forces, which will act in the 
 predetermined manner as soon as certain external cir- 
 cumstances like heat, moisture, etc., arise. Whether we 
 shall ever succeed in explaining the peculiar combination 
 of molecular forces existing in a grain of wheat or in 
 the shell of a hen's egg, does not concern us. That the 
 problem has already been solved, that the " Newton of the 
 blade of grass", whose possibility Kant once denied, has 
 appeared in Darwin, as Haeckel says, Darwin himself 
 would have denied most emphatically. 
 
 And now a further question arises at this point : Is the 
 immanent tendency by itself able to develop and to enhance 
 the species, or does it invariably presuppose the struggle for 
 existence and natural selection ? It seems to me, nothing 
 stands in the way of the first supposition. Such a process 
 does undoubtedly occur in the individual. The inner dis- 
 position spontaneously determines the development in the 
 pre-established direction. The individual having the form 
 of the genus incompletely developed at the beginning 
 
188 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 of life realizes the complete form essentially by an exer- 
 cise of its powers and dispositions, that is the result of 
 spontaneous im}3ulse. This is true of vegetative as well 
 as of animal functions ; through exercise the rudimentary 
 organs in the young plant or animal reach their perfect 
 development. Nor need the activity be universally condi- 
 tioned by necessity : it breaks out from within, sometimes 
 at first as an accidental variation, in which case the circum- 
 stances act merely as a stimulus and potentiality. Is the 
 immanent tendency not merely the primary condition of 
 evolution in the development of the individual as well as 
 of the genus, but also sufficient in itself to initiate a pro- 
 gressive growth? Could there be a transition to newer, 
 more perfect, more advanced forms even in cases where 
 the struggle for existence and natural selection are not 
 active? I believe there could. 
 
 Fechner somewhere suggests the following thoughts : 
 The cock has spurs, plume, and comb, while the hen does 
 not have them. Darwin, he says, explains the fact as fol- 
 lows : The rudiments of such characteristics due to acci- 
 dental variation gave their possessors an advantage in the 
 struggle for existence. For many generations the cocks 
 best equipped in this respect invariably defeated their 
 opponents. In such a way the complete extermination of 
 the defenceless type took place and the present tj-pe became 
 fixed. Fechner believes that if all the teleological equip- 
 ments of animals, even the internal ones, were to be ex- 
 plained by such an accumulation of accidental variations, 
 our brain would reel. "I am rather inclined to believe, 
 that at a time when the organization was easily alterable, 
 the psychical impulse to injure the opponent in battle as 
 much as possible, the anger, which still impels the spur to 
 action, was able to bring out the parts by modifying the proc- 
 esses of development. Though the impulse may not have 
 been able to develop such parts in grown-up cocks, it was 
 nevertheless able to predispose the germs and hence the 
 offspring. These psychical desires, I, of course, regard sim- 
 ply as the inner side of the physical-organic phenomena."* 
 
 * Fechner, Einige Ideen zur Schöpf ungs- und Entwickelungsgesclächte der 
 Organismen (1873), p. 72. 
 
Chap. IL] THE THEORY OF EVOLUTION. l89 
 
 Indeed, I see no objection to this view. The impulse 
 to exercise the predisposition universally acts also as an 
 impulse to develop form ; the individual receives its char- 
 acteristic and perfect form by exercise. If the acquired 
 characteristics are transmitted — and they cannot be alto- 
 gether exterminated, even though the part played by them 
 in heredity is very modest in comparison with inherited 
 characteristics — if, therefore, the acquired parental habits 
 act upon the germ, and hence upon the development of the 
 offspring, helping to determine it, then we may say that 
 the impulses and activities of all individuals will finally, in 
 the course of generations, determine the specific type. 
 Natural selection would then simply be a factor supporting 
 and accelerating the process. 
 
 Darwin is not unfamiliar with the thought. He does 
 not enter upon the question, Whence arise the individual 
 variations which furnish the material for natural selec- 
 tion? Nothing hinders him from assuming that such vari- 
 ations are not altogether haphazard, but have a certain 
 purpose, that is, they tend to the adaptation and advance- 
 ment of the generic type. Cocks doubtless never showed 
 a tendency to vary in the direction of forming fins or hoofs, 
 which in turn had to be exterminated in the struggle for 
 existence as unfavorable variations. It is more likely that 
 the variations tended to be useful. " The purposive im- 
 pulse," which is so pronounced in all the activities of an 
 individual, extends also to the specific types. The egg or 
 the young individual is predetermined in its development 
 along certain lines, and has its will directed towards them. 
 Similarly we may say of the specific types in statu nascendi : 
 they are predisposed to develop in a definite direction, and 
 their wills are bent upon that direction. The will, not a. 
 prescient will governed by purposes, but a will manifesting 
 itself in impulsive feelings and acting in all individuals of 
 the species, would then, in the last analysis, be the creator 
 of the form. As the physiognomy and habits of an adult 
 human being, his habitual mien, bearing, and actions, are, 
 in a measure, his own work, so too the organic form would, 
 in a certain sense, invariably be the product of the will. 
 
 Wundt has elaborated this thought (in the System der 
 
190 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 Philosophie, pp. 325 ff.). All organic activities are originally 
 acts of will. In the primitive forms, even the vegetative 
 functions depend on impulsive acts ; " the protozoon ap- 
 pears as a being acting in all its parts according to will- 
 impulses. As almost each of its parts is homogeneous with 
 the rest, so too its entire corporeal mass is one single 
 organism determined by unitary volitional acts." But since 
 the activity leaves a disposition behind and becomes fixed 
 in the organism as a habit, it produces permanent struc- 
 tural changes transmissible by heredity. The activity is 
 thereby made mechanical, and the will left free for new 
 and higher functions. We see the same process in a higher 
 stage of development. Action that was originally volun- 
 tary is transformed into habitual and finally into automatic 
 action. Hence the organism is, as it were, congealed volun- 
 tary action. Of course, the result did not pre-exist in a mind 
 as a purpose ; the will was at every given moment directed 
 only towards some particular activity. But the effects 
 transcended the immediate aim, — a relation which we still 
 find on the highest stage of development, in mental life, 
 where the effects also regularly go beyond the immediately 
 desired aims. Thus customs, legal norms, fixed rules of 
 all kinds, arise ; the will's immediate object is some imme- 
 diate present aim, but by exercise it simultaneously pro- 
 duces unintended results — custom, predisposition, and 
 habit, and finally a fixed transmissible form. Wundt has 
 created for this peculiar circumstance the notion of the 
 heterogony of ends. 
 
 In this sense, too, we may characterize the forms of liv- 
 ing beings as the result of purposive activity — the purposive 
 activity, namely, of all the individuals concerned in the evo- 
 lution. At no point of the development was there present 
 an idea of the future form ; nevertheless the form is the 
 result of the will and impulse, and, in so far as the goal 
 momentarily aimed at by the will lay in the direction of 
 the goal attained by the total development, we can say that 
 the aim is also subjectively willed. 
 
 What we vaguely surmise and outline in the lower 
 world is found more distinctly and explicitly in higher 
 mental life. In the human world it is doubtless the will 
 
Chap. IL] THE THEORY OF EVOLUTION. 191 
 
 which determines the form of the being. The form hovers 
 before the mind as a goal, at least in its most general out- 
 lines : as such we call it an ideal. Individuals as well as 
 nations have a more or less definite ideal of perfect cult- 
 ure, and the ideal has a formative influence upon their 
 development, and through education also upon the mode 
 of life of succeeding generations. In this way the will 
 objectifies itself by realizing the idea of its being. 
 
 Nor is Darwin unfamiliar with this thought. It is im- 
 plied in the principle which plays so great a part in his 
 second main work, The Descent of Man, that is, in the prin- 
 ciple of sexual selection. A large mass of facts is given 
 there, which lead us to the view that peculiarities of struc- 
 ture and appearance in the male are the effects of the 
 female's selection among her suitors. Hence the generic 
 ideal would, as it were, be unconsciously present in the 
 female and itself manifest in her preference for the males 
 who most nearly approximate it. And the same idea 
 may also have an influence upon the form of the foetus. 
 Here, too, we must leave it to the physiologists to explain 
 physiologically the " idea " as a definite arrangement of the 
 nervous system which acts and reacts upon suitors in 
 certain ways and exerts certain influences upon the pro- 
 cesses of foetal life. 
 
 Let the above suffice as a characterization of the new 
 conception of the origin of the organic world. Numer- 
 ous problems and difficulties are still contained in it. 
 How are we to explain the origin of the first living beings ? 
 How does the principle of heredity operate ? How are we 
 to explain the absence from palaeontological remains of the 
 countless extinct links which must be presupposed ? Must 
 we not also assume, in addition to infinitely small variations, 
 variations per solium, in order to explain the great morpho- 
 logical differences in the various types? Such abrupt 
 deviations from the type might, perhaps, be explained most 
 satisfactorily as follows : Under unusual conditions of life 
 a germinal form arises that varies from the parental type 
 (so-called heterogeneous generation). I am not competent 
 to enter upon a further discussion of the subject. Time 
 will solve many a riddle, many another will in all proba- 
 
192 THE C0SM0L0G1CAL-THE0L0QICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 bility remain unsolved. Only, we should not regard 
 unsolved problems as refutations of the theory. The evo- 
 lutionistic theory is not and will most likely never be a 
 theory which can give a perfectly satisfactory answer to 
 all questions that might be raised in reference to the 
 formation of organic beings. We shall probably never 
 have an uninterrupted history of the evolution of organic 
 beings upon our planet ; we have too few examples of the 
 development. All that we can expect is a knowledge of 
 the general principles and a schematic outline of the his- 
 tory of development, in which we are guided by the empirical 
 proposition, that the evolution of the individual is an 
 abbreviated repetition of the evolution of the genus. The 
 same may be said of other fields of learning. Geology can- 
 not explain every elevation and depression of the earth's 
 crust, nor can meteorology explain every vibration in the 
 atmosphere. In the last analysis, the problem of every sci- 
 ence is an endless one. Darwin did not write the final 
 chapter of biology. On the contrary, he has proposed new 
 and grave problems to it. So much, however, we can say: 
 The theory of evolution is really a theory in the sense of 
 having established a principle of investigation that leads 
 to real natural-scientific knowledge. That cannot by any 
 means be claimed for the old hypothesis, which explains 
 things by the influence of an intelligence operating from 
 without according to design. This theory was never more 
 than an attempt to escape a perplexity that was occa- 
 sioned by the awkward dilemma mentioned above — either 
 organisms owe their origin to the accidental congregation 
 of atoms or they are the work of intelligence. It really 
 accomplished what words generally accomplish — it re- 
 pressed the immediate feeling of wonder and the spirit of 
 inquiry; which is certainly not a creditable achievement 
 for a scientific hypothesis. The new hypothesis proves its 
 worth by suggesting new questions and stimulating us to 
 answer them. Darwin, too, may say with old Xenophanes : 
 " The gods have not shown forth all things to men from 
 the beginning, but by seeking they gradually find out what 
 is better." 
 
Chap. II.] MENTAL EVOLUTION. 193 
 
 5. Mental Evolution. 
 
 It has often been observed that the products of the his- 
 torico-mental sphere greatly resemble those of the organic 
 world. From the times of Plato it has been usual to regard 
 the state as a human being on the large scale. A. Schäfiie 
 makes a detailed comparison between society and nat- 
 ural organism in his great and ingenious work, Bau 
 und Leben des sozialen Körpers (Structure and Life of the 
 Social Body). It is likewise usual to characterize language 
 as an organism — perhaps it would be better to call it an or- 
 ganic system that belongs to the organism of a people. 
 Indeed, the homology is obvious. We have here, as in the 
 organic body, a great variety of heterogeneous parts which 
 regularly co-operate to produce a rational total effect. 
 
 Take language. A great variety of heterogeneous parts 
 co-operate to produce a total result, the living speech, which 
 is obviously an effect valuable and suitable to the pos- 
 sessor of the organ, that is, to the people. Without it 
 there could be no unity of mental life, no national life at 
 all. Thousands of words, which may be compared to the 
 cells that make up the bodily organism, are united in lan- 
 guage for a common function. The stock of words perform 
 the task of representing a people's entire wealth of thoughts 
 and feelings in sensible sounds ; each word has its definite, 
 limited function and significance within the whole. The 
 organic character of the language manifests itself also in 
 the peculiar elements of form. The different parts of 
 speech (substantive, adjective, verb, etc.) correspond to large 
 classes of ideas ; by their form they express that the thing 
 designated belongs to the objects, qualities, or events. Each 
 word is again endowed with a highly ingenious mechanism 
 (by means of which it is able to express its relations to the 
 elements with which it is connected), namely, with that 
 system of minute changes in form which we call declension 
 and conjugation. Thus language is a highly complicated 
 and at the same time wonderfully accurate apparatus, 
 whose object it is to represent all possible thoughts and 
 feelings with the slightest shades of difference, an organon 
 
194 THE C0SM0L0GICAL-THE0L0G1CAL PROBLEM. [Book! 
 
 possessing such nicety and perfection that the most skilful 
 machine is a simple instrument alongside of it. 
 
 How did this organism arise ? At present it is trans- 
 mitted by parental generation. The children learn the 
 language from their parents; but what is the primitive 
 origin of language? Was it accidental? Did one indi- 
 vidual and then another emit an articulate sound on a 
 particular occasion, a sound that was understood and re- 
 tained, and thus became the name of an object or occur- 
 rence ? That is apparently absurd. Consequently, Ian 
 guage must be the work of intention and invention. So the 
 rationalism of the last century, following the rationalism of 
 antiquity, explained the matter. Human beings, thus the 
 Marburg Professor Tiedemann philosophizes in his Ver- 
 such über den Ursprung der Sprache (1772), at first lived 
 in an animal state. This was inconvenient and burden- 
 some. They desired a better mode of life ; which im- 
 pelled them to unite ; and thus there arose the need of a 
 means of communication. "Perhaps they first hit upon 
 gestures. But it could not have been long before they 
 saw the inadequacy of such a language. Then they ob- 
 served that emotions expressed themselves in sounds. 
 They also became aware that animals employed sounds 
 with good results. What was more natural than that they 
 should attempt to utilize the discovery and use sounds as 
 the signs of their thoughts ? " * 
 
 Such reflections strike us as somewhat comical: they 
 seem almost like a parody on the Aufklärung by the 
 Romanticists. And yet the explanation has an advantage 
 over the attempt to explain the organic world by means 
 of the activity of a cosmical intelligence : it reckons with a 
 known and given cause. It is true, this very advantage 
 
 * Quoted by Steinthal, Der Ursprung der Sprache in Zusammenhang mit 
 den letzten Fragen alles Wissens (4th ed., 1888, pp. 6 ff.). This instruc- 
 tive little treatise gives a survey of the history of the theories of the origin 
 of language up to the present time, together with hints at the author's own 
 theory. Steinthal presents an elaborate exposition of the psychological 
 foundation of the latter in his Einleitung in die Psychologie (2d ed. 1881), the 
 first part of an outline of the science of language. Umrisse der konkret- 
 historischen Ausführung in der Klassification der hauptsächlichsten Typen 
 des Sprachbaus (1860). 
 
€hap. II.] MENTAL EVOLUTION. 195 
 
 results in a disadvantage ; the cause is too well known 
 to permit us to expect such effects from it. What were 
 the details of this invention ? we ask further. Did some 
 clever fellow among those speechless men sit down one 
 day and devise a language, as Volapük was invented in 
 our day ? Did he secretly invent the thousand names of 
 objects, qualities, occurrences, relations, declension and con- 
 jugation, and then surprise his companions with the com- 
 plete system ? Did he show them the utility of his invention 
 and its application, and so persuade them to learn and adopt 
 the language ? — It would hardly surprise us if the statement 
 were added that the same man had previously also invented 
 the intellect and had persuaded others to adopt it. — Did 
 many co-operate to achieve the task ? Was a commission 
 appointed for the invention of language — an idea upon 
 which we should at once hit in our day? Or did the many 
 co-workers act separately : did this one, then that one, 
 contribute his share — say a dozen names or a couple of 
 prepositions ? And then did another invent declensions 
 — perhaps only the first declension ; and then did still 
 another invent the second, etc., until at last the four or 
 five declensions, or as many as there may have been, were 
 made ? And then did a new inventor, encouraged by the 
 happy successes of his fellows, hit upon conjugations and 
 finish the active voice, and did still another add the passive 
 voice, leaving it to a third to puzzle out the subjunctive 
 mode ? And did a particularly clever genius invent Greek, 
 and did some thick-headed fellow sprinkle in the irregular 
 verbs? That is the line of Tiedemann's thought — only, 
 he always disclaims the principle of invention, leaving all 
 to chance and necessity. 
 
 The same dilemma evidently confronts us here as above. 
 Does language, do animals, owe their origin to chance or 
 to methodical invention ? There seems to be no middle 
 course, and yet both of these views are equally inconceiv- 
 able. 
 
 The science of language was the first to master the 
 difficulty, and it did it in exactly the same way which 
 biology afterwards followed. What caused the unfortu- 
 nate dilemma was the notion that languages like species 
 
196 THE COBMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 of plants and animals are immutable, fixed forms. So 
 the grammarians had hitherto looked upon the matter : a 
 language is a finished tool which the grammar describes and 
 teaches us to use. The historical view, which arose on the 
 eve of the nineteenth century in all fields of learning, under 
 the influence of the great and universal reactioD against 
 the obstinate rationalism of the age of enlightenment, and 
 for which the way was paved in the philological world by 
 men like W. v. Humboldt, Bopp, the two Grimms, entirely 
 destroyed the old conception of the nature of language. 
 It came to the conclusion that language is not a finished 
 tool transmitted from generation to generation, but a func- 
 tion that is always new, or, to use Humboldt's expression, 
 not an epyov, but an evepyeia. Thus modern linguistics 
 regards a language as a function that continually changes 
 its form with the life of a people, and whose present form 
 is the result of the development of thousands and thou- 
 sands of years and at the same time the starting-point for 
 new formations. Evidently this is the same idea which 
 modern biology holds of plant and animal forms. 
 
 The science of language, however, possesses a great 
 advantage. The process of evolution, or at least a part of 
 it, occurs before its very eyes. The modification of histor- 
 ical organisms takes place more rapidly than that of physi- 
 cal organisms. We know the form which the German lan- 
 guage had five hundred or a thousand years ago ; we have 
 in the Gothic a form that is five hundred years older. 
 In the written monuments we possess petrifactions, as it 
 were, of the old forms of language, and that too, petrifactions 
 far more perfect than those at the disposal of the biologist 
 in palseontological remains. Here we have a few isolated 
 fragments, in part only traces, of the past forms of life. In 
 the former case we have not the fulness of life either, it is 
 true, — sound and accent we can only guess at; but still we 
 possess, relatively speaking, a wonderfully complete exhibi- 
 tion of the structure and the function of the language. We 
 can also trace the development of the Latin language through 
 a space of more than two thousand years. Here we can 
 see the process of the development of new languages taking 
 place before our very eyes. French, Italian, and Spanisk 
 
Chap. II] MENTAL EVOLUTION. 19? 
 
 are daughters of a common mother, the Latin language, 
 which continued to nourish alongside of these as the lan- 
 guage of the church and of learning. Comparative philology 
 goes still farther : it undertakes to explain almost all lan- 
 guages that are and were spoken in Europe, as well as those 
 of the Persians and Hindoos, as historical modifications 
 of an original language common to the Aryan peoples. 
 
 We have in this case, therefore, what the critics of 
 Darwinism miss in the biological sphere — the formation of 
 new species between which no fertile crosses occur. Latin, 
 Prench, and Spanish, not to speak of Greek, Polish, and 
 German, are not variations or dialects of one language, but 
 different languages which do not cross and which are no 
 longer intelligible to one another. How did such new 
 species originate? They are obviously formed by the 
 gradual accumulation of slight changes ; intentional inven- 
 tion or transformation plays as good as no part in the 
 process. On the other hand, we can detect the working of 
 the same principles which are regarded in biology as the 
 causes of transformation. The desire to express thoughts 
 and feelings by means of articulate sounds, or rather to com- 
 municate them to others, here represents the universal will 
 to live. The conditions favorable to change are, on the one 
 hand, contact and mixture with other foreign languages ; on 
 the other, the constant change in the inner world, in the 
 world of thoughts and feelings, which is connected with the 
 generative changes ; it brings with it the tendency to vary 
 words and forms. The most suitable variations are selected 
 just as in a struggle for existence and incorporated into 
 the general vocabulary. The essential standards of fitness 
 are: brevity and ease of enunciation, distinctness and 
 definiteness of expression, finally, power and emphasis of 
 speech, which, above all, consists also in the ability to ex- 
 press and arouse emotions. 
 
 In this way a language develops according to the prin- 
 ciple of formal teleology, without any real designed inven- 
 tion. Certainly not by means of a purely mechanical 
 selection ; at every point the fitness of the new form will 
 be decided by a more or less conscious judgment of taste 
 or intellect. But the total development is not governed by 
 
19S THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 a foreseen purpose. It is tlie province of the history of 
 each particular language to point out the gradual changes 
 of its forms and words in detail, and to explain them from 
 these points of view. Physiological arrangements most 
 likely play an important part in the development of articu- 
 late sounds and forms. In the development of the syn- 
 tactical forms, a striving after distinctness shows itself ; in 
 the development of the vocabulary and the phraseology, 
 plastic and emotional force is of great importance next to 
 ease and preciseness of expression. From these points of 
 view we may in a certain degree form a comparative esti- 
 mate of the value of different languages. Thus, for exam- 
 ple, we may say in general that the languages derived from 
 the Latin are superior to the mother language in logical 
 excellence. The substitution of prepositions for declen- 
 sional endings, the regular employment of the pronoun and 
 auxiliary verbs in the conjugations, as well as the order of 
 words in the sentence, render the diction more definite 
 and transparent. It is true, the language thereby loses its. 
 elasticity.* 
 
 » With the same means, and by the same forces and ten- 
 dencies that still determine the transformation of lan- 
 guage, philology explains the origin of inflection, which 
 bears such resemblance to an artificial and designed pro- 
 duct. ♦ Thus, for example, we may see how the conjugation 
 of the Indo-Germanic languages arose through the gradual 
 fusion of sound-groups that were formerly independent. 
 The flectional language was preceded by a stage in the de- 
 velopment of language which possessed only immutable 
 and independent words, the so-called roots. Comparative 
 grammar teaches us to recognize in the personal endings 
 the abbreviated and mutilated personal pronouns which 
 have become dependent suffixes. In the Greek conjugation 
 in mi the orginal form is still recognizable : the termina- 
 tion mi comes from the first personal pronoun as it appears 
 
 * Interesting statements concerning the forces at work are made in v. d. 
 Gabelentz, Die Sprachwissenschaft, ihre Aufgabe, Methoden und bisherigen, 
 Ergebnisse (1891). The importance of the emotional phase in the develop- 
 ment of language is traced in an attractive work by K. Bruchmann, Psy- 
 chologische Studien zur Sprachgeschichte (1888). 
 
Chap. IL] MENTAL EVOLUTION. 199 
 
 in the oblique cases ; similarly, the original si is the second 
 and the ti the third person. The subject becomes clearer 
 in Sanscrit. In the connected speech the pronominal root 
 and the verbal root were joined together into a single sound 
 by the accent, and then the unaccented suffix was more and 
 more abbreviated. In this way inflections arose. 
 
 Finally, philology also attacks the last problem which 
 the organic world proposes, the problem of the generatio 
 cequivoca, the origin of the organic from the inorganic. In 
 this field the problem reads as follows : How were these 
 roots, these first articulate sounds, in which the unin- 
 flected primitive language expressed the names of things 
 and occurrences, originally produced ? History deserts 
 us here, it is true ; it nowhere reaches the beginnings. Yet 
 we may attempt, with the aid of biology, physiology, and 
 psychology, to make the process clear to ourselves. Bio- 
 logical reflection considers the sound-reflex as the start- 
 ing-point of sound-symbolism, which attains to its highest 
 development in language. All intense inner emotions are 
 involuntarily accompanied by diverse sounds. We find 
 this even in the animal world ; sounds occasioned by the 
 influence of the emotions on respiration as well as move- 
 ments accompany inner processes : pain, pleasure, desire, 
 fear, lead to the utterance of variously-articulated sounds. 
 The sound-reflex unintentionally becomes a means of com- 
 munication, by arousing sympathetic emotions in the fel- 
 lows of the species. However, sounds are also used in the 
 animal world as an intentional means of communication. 
 The dog makes a great number of sounds : he whines, 
 growls, howls, and barks ; and each of these sounds in turn 
 runs through the entire scale ; the dog employs them with 
 a certain deliberation to express his inner states, particu- 
 larly in his intercourse with men. 
 
 If we assume that such a form of sound-symbolism also 
 existed among the ancestors of man, the problem would be 
 to explain the development of the organized language from 
 this, as it were, inorganic sound-material. What differen- 
 tiates human language from the presupposed primitive form 
 is essentially this : the articulation of the sounds and the 
 employment of sound-groups as symbols of objects. These 
 
200 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 alone would distinctly differentiate the assumed original 
 form of language, which consisted merely in the arrangement 
 of immutable sound-groups in successive order, from all 
 animal language. Animal language, if we can call it such, 
 has no articulation, and its sounds have no objective mean- 
 ing ; that is, they are concomitants and symbols of subjec- 
 tive volitions and emotions, but not names of things and 
 processes. We have human language wherever an articu- 
 late sound-group is employed as the name of a thing or 
 occurrence. Sighs and cries are not language. Language 
 has not lost the element of subjective excitation ; it shows 
 itself in the timbre and in the accent of the voice, but the 
 word as such — and even the root is a word — is the sign for 
 a definite idea. We might, therefore, characterize the prob- 
 lem of linguistics as follows : It must derive the origin 
 and growth of an ideational language containing articulate 
 sound-groups from an inarticulate volitional language. 
 
 The general conditions for the solution of this problem, 
 which will most likely never be entirely accomplished, 
 must be supplied by physiology and psychology. The 
 former will point out the fact that by his upright position 
 man's chest became free, which made it possible for him 
 to produce finer distinctions and articulations in sound ; 
 furthermore, that, as the hands became more developed, the 
 mouth, which often has to serve animals as a prehensile 
 organ, became free for other purposes. Psychology will 
 point out that the social life of man, which was especially 
 conditioned by an unusually long period of infancy, had to 
 become particularly intimate, and that the strong impulse 
 to communicate which characterizes man finds its cause in 
 this fact. It will also point to the development of intellect- 
 ual life, which was favored by the diverse activities made 
 possible by the hand, as well as by the multiplicity of so- 
 cial relations. The increased stock of distinct ideas and 
 the intensified need of communication may thus be regarded 
 as the constantly-efficient motives for a nicer and richer de- 
 velopment of the symbolism of sounds. 
 
 How the development took place in detail, how in the 
 language of the Aryans the root da became the word for 
 to give, sta to stand, reg to erect, to make straight, how 
 
Chap. IL] MENTAL EVOLUTION. 201 
 
 plu came to be connected with water, and luk with light, — 
 these questions will never receive a certain answer. Most 
 likely we shall always find ourselves reduced to the old 
 view which derives the first characteristic sounds from 
 the sounds which the occurrences and objects themselves 
 produce. Even now, particularly in the first year of life, 
 the sound excites the tongue to imitation, in answer, as it 
 were, to the call. Perhaps, as has been recently pointed 
 out, the human activities and the sounds which they oc- 
 casion or by which they are accompanied by those perform- 
 ing them, particularly by individuals working together, 
 gave rise at first to the origin of radical words. If the act 
 of reaching was originally accompanied hj a reflex-like 
 sound da, as we still notice in children, it is conceivable 
 how this sound came to be used and understood as the 
 regular sound-symbol, whenever the impulse made itself 
 felt to arouse in another the idea of reaching and giving. 
 Of course, demeanor and gesture largely helped to make 
 possible a more exact interpretation of the meaning of 
 sounds. And so we believe that we can detect in the root 
 plu, which underlies our word to flow, the sound which 
 the water makes when a stone is thrown into it or when it 
 moves quickly. With such primitive formations as the 
 starting-point, roots may then have been formed to express 
 processes not audible as such. In this case a certain simi- 
 larity between the impression and a sound may have been 
 perceived and may have produced the sound combination. 
 A word like to flash still has onomatopoetic value for us ; 
 it could not be replaced by the word to crack. Nor could 
 we substitute darkness for light, nor cark and care for love 
 and lust, without hurting our onomatopoetic feeling. And 
 from such original roots, secondary roots perhaps arose in 
 consequence of the differentiation in pronunciation that ac- 
 companied the differentiation of meaning, which was origi- 
 nally very indefinite. From a root like mar or mr, which, 
 perhaps imitating the sound of bodies rubbed together, 
 meant to rub, to grind, the word mal (from which the word 
 mill takes its name in European languages), and marj = to 
 rub off, clean, may have arisen, and in this way an endless 
 
202 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 number of derivations may have sprung from a primitive 
 root.* 
 
 Be that as it may, there will always be plenty of room 
 here for conjectures and guesses ; which is not such a great 
 calamity after all. For who would care to be a philologist 
 if we knew everything exactly ? At all events, we may be 
 permitted to say this : We see how even the first beginnings 
 of language could have arisen without methodical invention 
 and construction, by a kind of generatio cequivoca. Inten- 
 tional invention most likely played but an insignificant part 
 in the process. In the same way the farther development 
 took place. In proportion as the world of ideas developed 
 and became relatively free from the will, its phonetic ex- 
 pression, language, developed, not, however, in consequence 
 of conscious or intentional activity. It is only on a high 
 plane of mental progress that we reflect on language, and 
 with reflection begins the tendency arbitrarily to interfere 
 with the development, more for the sake of preserving than 
 for the purpose of developing the language. Grammar is 
 conservative ; it opposes the natural inclination to variation. 
 
 The same law of development which we meet in the 
 evolution of language governs all mental life ; all its prod- 
 ucts arise through a kind of spontaneous growth, not 
 through methodical invention. 
 
 Take the practical field, the development of morals, law, 
 and the state. The moral laws were not invented by the 
 moralists, no more than the logical laws were thought out 
 and prescribed by the logicians, or the grammatical laws 
 by the grammarians. Morals are general forms of action, 
 whose primitive form consists in the stereotyped reactions 
 called animal instincts. In so far as man becomes con- 
 scious of these, conscience arises, and this keeps on devel- 
 oping with mental life. Moral philosophy develops, ex- 
 plains, and proves the moral laws, but does not invent 
 them. The case is not different with law ; it is not an in- 
 vention of the jurists or legislators; it grows with the 
 social life of the people as the external form of their union. 
 Originally it is custom, then at a certain stage of develop- 
 
 * M. Müller, Lectures on the Science of Language, pp. 408 ff. 
 
Chap. II] MENTAL EVOLUTION. 203 
 
 meiit it is separated from the collection of universally obli- 
 gatory forms of life and action and forms a separate field 
 of social compulsion. From that stage on it becomes, it is 
 true, an object of conscious consideration ; by the side of 
 the unwritten law written law arises ; so that at last, in the 
 great collections or codifications, law looks like an artificial 
 product. Whoever considers the subject historically will 
 easily observe that the body of the law, the legal system 
 as a whole, is not made. All that is done in such cases 
 is essentially this. "What is current and traditional is sys- 
 tematically incorporated. Occasional slight adaptations 
 to the changing life-conditions of a people are made. We 
 may say of the legal codes what we say of the state con- 
 stitutions, which indeed are but a part of the general code 
 of laws : they are not made ; they grow. And the same is true 
 of the entire state. It is not, as the rationalists of the last 
 century conceived the matter, an institution invented for 
 definite purposes, which was one day established by vote 
 and resolution ; it is the form of life into which a people 
 naturally grew. The human society which is analogous to 
 the animal herd is to be regarded as its original form. 
 Here, too, we get a good view at least of the last part of 
 the process of development, sufficient to recognize how lit- 
 tle the existing form of our state is as a whole the result of 
 methodical invention. Intellect and deliberation were al- 
 ways operative in the transformation, but only in the sense 
 of seeking at all times to adapt the existing institutions 
 to new needs and conceptions. And ultimately, even here 
 blind instincts often played a larger part than deliberate 
 reason. 
 
 Nay, the case is not much different in the theoretical 
 sphere, which is the particular domain of the intelligence 
 and in which one would expect design and invention to 
 play the largest part. Sciences were not invented and 
 developed according to plan ; they grew. Mythological 
 cosmology is their original germinal form, the first rough 
 outline of a unitary world-view. From it philosophy de- 
 veloped, and from philosophy the separate sciences gradu- 
 ally grew like so many different branches of a common 
 stock. The entire unitary evolution was not thought out 
 
204 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 by a human intellect and designed, as a builder designs 
 the work which is executed by a thousand hands, in the 
 course of so many decades. The germ of knowledge un- 
 folded itself by a kind of inner necessity ; not without the 
 aid of individual reason, it is true, but yet in such a way 
 that no one commanded a view of the whole and the entire 
 course of the development. The individual investigator 
 and thinker works in the dark, as it were. He does not 
 know the place which his work occupies in the chain of de- 
 velopment, at least not the relation it bears to future 
 events. It may give rise to new problems and new 
 notions in other minds, but he cannot foretell their nature. 
 It is a matter of the most common experience in the history 
 of human thinking that an idea provokes thoughts in the 
 minds of others that are entirely different from those in- 
 tended by their originator. All that the individual can do 
 is to appropriate existing ideas as well as he can, and 
 to make them serviceable to his conception of reality. 
 Whether his successors will utilize his work and how they 
 will do it, is concealed from him. And perhaps we may say 
 in this connection, that the less he thinks of others, of his 
 contemporaries, and of the future, the more he attends to 
 the subject-matter itself, the more fruitful will his labor be. 
 And we may say in addition : The greater and more fertile 
 the thoughts are, the less did they owe their origin to 
 methodical invention. Newton did not make up his mind 
 to discover the law of gravitation, nor Darwin the theory of 
 evolution, nor Schopenhauer the voluntaristic psychology 
 and metaphysics. Great thoughts arise through a kind of 
 mental conception and not through workmanlike planning. 
 They come as if of their own accord when their time has 
 arrived. After that they are verified and applied according 
 to method. The process here is similar to that which takes 
 place in a work of art or fiction. This too is not constructed 
 according to plan, but grows from within outwardly, by 
 the unfolding of a germ. The cheap productions are 
 manufactured according to plan. At first there is present a 
 general desire to make something, then a search is begun 
 for a subject and a form. In this way the imitations arise 
 which invariably shoot up like mushrooms whenever a great 
 
Chap. IL] MENTAL EVOLUTION. 205 
 
 work arouses popular attention and comes into fashion. 
 Tiiey are manufactured articles, not works of art. In the 
 same way factory-wares are made in science, the exhibits of 
 the dissertation-factories, the collections of the commenta- 
 tors, the comprehensive and final systems of the registrars 
 of science, — here, too, the primary purpose is to do some- 
 thing that may gain for the author favorable and profitable 
 recognition ; then a search is begun for some original sub- 
 ject, and if the seekers are lucky in their find, they at once 
 " work it up " according to some methodical plan. Great 
 thoughts, on the other hand, such as open up new paths to 
 knowledge, are not made and invented, they come as if by 
 inspiration. 
 
 And as the highest intellectual activity has not the form 
 of plan and design, so also intelligence itself is not, in its 
 origin, the result of plan. The intellect is not made ; it 
 grows. We cannot make ourselves believe that a particular 
 individual among a lot of irrational men first recognized 
 the utility of the thing and then invented the process of 
 deduction and the syllogism, concepts and judgments. 
 These processes gradually evolved like natural products of 
 mind. As the original form of the intellect we may regard 
 "instinct, that wonderful faculty of anticipating as existing 
 what does not yet exist, and of giving it the force of a 
 motive. Intellect gradually developed out of instinct ; the 
 stereotyped reactions were broken up, and active delibera- 
 tion began to intervene between the different members of 
 the series. The ultimate effect is presented as the end, the 
 activity as the means. Thus we have the knowledge of 
 cause and effect in its most primitive form. 
 
 We may say, then, of all phases of mental and historical 
 life : The necessary and teleological is not formed by antici- 
 pating reason, according to design and plan, but arises 
 gradually like the forms of organic life, through spontane- 
 ous growth. And what is true of the separate organs and 
 products is true also of the historical organisms them- 
 selves. A people live a unitary life. Every historical 
 account intentionally or unintentionally represents this life 
 as a unity. By dividing the course of history into periods, 
 it introduces the idea of organic unity. It has always been 
 
206 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 customary and natural to compare national life with indi- 
 vidual life : the great stages, childhood, youth, manhood, 
 old age, recur here, or to convert the proposition: The 
 fundamental law of the development of national life is 
 repeated in the life of the individual. Well, a nation does 
 not design its life and then complete it according to a plan ; 
 its life is gradually unfolded, unknown to the people them- 
 selves. The retrospective historian is the first to see unity 
 and harmony in it. The same is true of the life of the indi- 
 vidual. A man does not plan the course of his life. In 
 the years of youth we are apt to think that we first fix our 
 goal, then make a plan, and fashion our lives and influence 
 the world according to this plan. Youth is rationalistic 
 in its views; it believes in thoughts and in their power 
 of transfiguring reality : all revolutions have been inaugu- 
 rated by young men. Old age becomes historical even in 
 its thinking ; it sees how little it had to do with fashioning 
 its own life, how it was formed by environment and fate 
 and by many originally unimportant accidents. Great his- 
 torical traditions gain more and more prominence in the 
 eyes of old age. The youth has an idea that the world 
 really dates from him, that he must bring it forth anew 
 in his own head. The longer we live, the more we under- 
 stand how short a distance we have traversed, how near 
 we are to the starting-point upon which youth, full of 
 hopes and plans, once turned its back. 
 
 And now let us sum up. Plan and design do not play 
 a very important part in the history of mind. The same 
 law of development prevails in the mental world that pre- 
 vails in the organic world. Organic creations are produced 
 in nature as well as in history, not by forethought, but by 
 the spontaneous unfolding of germinal beginnings. Things 
 are not made, they grow; that is the fundamental law of 
 reality. Even the works of the human mind are on the 
 whole the results of unintentional growth. The planned 
 product is but a slight collateral form of growth. 
 
Ch. IL] INSUFFICIENCY. OF ATOMISTIC METAPHYSICS. 207 
 
 6. Insufficiency of Atomistic Metaphysics. The Notion of 
 
 Interaction. 
 
 Let us return to the starting-point of our discussion. 
 Three forms of the view of the world, three cosmological 
 hypotheses, seemed conceivable to us : Anthropomorphic 
 Theism, Atomism, and Pantheism. 
 
 In the preceding sections we tried to show that the first 
 hypothesis, far from being a proved theory, does not even 
 possess the form of a scientific theory at all. The concep- 
 tion of natural and historical reality which assumed an 
 architectonic intelligence and held that this intelligence 
 constructed the universe according to plan and with a pur- 
 pose intelligible to us, has been altogether superseded by 
 a later theory, the evolutionistic hypothesis. And it would 
 be sheer self-deception to assume that we can adhere to the 
 former theory after its presuppositions have been over- 
 thrown. It is hardly credible that the evolutionistic view 
 will disappear like a passing fashion, as some believe. 
 It may have to undergo many changes, but anthropomor- 
 phic theism will never regain a single inch of its territory 
 as long as scientific interests cast the deciding vote. 
 
 The question now arises : Which of the two remaining 
 cosmological theories deserves the preference ? Is atomism 
 or is a pantheistic monism more in accord with the facts? 
 
 The opinion widely prevails that materialistic atomism 
 is the view of the world forced upon us by science. Dar- 
 win, it is said, removed the only difficulty hitherto involved 
 in it. Now there is no essential obstacle in the way of an 
 explanation of the world by atoms. The following thought 
 is common to both adherents and opponents of Darwin : 
 The presupposition or the final consequence of his view is 
 that we can dispense with God or a principle of unity ; 
 reality can be explained by the principle of the uniform 
 interaction of the parts. 
 
 I regard that as an error. An atomistic metaphysics 
 is neither presupposed nor favored by the doctrine of evo- 
 lution. Indeed, the theory by no means bears such an inti- 
 mate relation to metaphysics as is usually assumed. Like 
 every explanation of particular facts, it is as compatible 
 
208 TEE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 with an idealistic-pantheistic metaphysics as with a mate- 
 rialistic-atomistic one. Which of the two views to choose 
 depends upon more general considerations. And these do 
 not seem to me to indicate that the solution of the world- 
 riddle is to be sought in atoms : on the contrary, I find 
 myself driven to the other view from every side. Let me 
 point out the thoughts which influence me,- without claim- 
 ing for them the weight of cogent proofs. The time has 
 probably gone by when men believed in their ability to 
 demonstrate the logical necessity of a given view of the 
 world. The arguments for a final conception of things will 
 essentially consist in showing that the facts point to such 
 or such a conclusion, or, as it were, converge to such a 
 conception. We shall have to presuppose here the results 
 of our ontological discussion. It convinced us that the 
 materialistic explanation of reality is insufficient, and that 
 we must assume a universal correspondence or concomi- 
 tance between physical and psychical elements. First, 
 however, let us take the standpoint of the physical view. 
 
 First of all, I call to mind that atoms are not actual facts 
 or objects ; they are not objects of real or even of possible 
 observation. Bodies, or rather, the unified corporeal 
 world exists. Thought analyzes this into separate objects or 
 bodies which appear as being in uniform motion or at rest. 
 Bodies in turn split up into parts : a piece of chalk may 
 be broken into pieces or ground into dust and yet it is still 
 further divisible ; the quality of the parts remains identical 
 with that of the whole. Furthermore, the same chalk can 
 be separated into heterogeneous parts, into the chemical 
 elements calcium and carbonic acid, the latter in turn into 
 carbon and oxygen. But not even in this way do we reach 
 the atom as an empirically given object. The concept of 
 the atom is merely a subsidiary notion formed for the ex- 
 planation of physical and chemical facts ; it is the ultimate 
 point in the analytic reflection of the chemist. 
 
 Metaphysical atomism, however, reverses the process. 
 It asserts : The ultimate reached by analysis is the ultimate 
 of things, or rather the first and absolute beginning of 
 reality. The world is composed of atoms, of absolutely 
 indestructible and absolutely independent little particles. 
 
Ch. II.] INSUFFICIENCY OF ATOMISTIC METAPHYSICS. 209 
 
 This view has no more justification than the thought 
 that letters are the first, absolutely independent, original 
 constituents of speech. A boy beginning to study Latin 
 is very apt to reason thus : The Latin language, like every 
 other language, consists of words, words consist of sylla- 
 bles, syllables of letters, and the latter are consequently 
 the real ultimate constituents, the atoms, as it were, of 
 speech. A little reflection will suffice to show the error of 
 this view. The living speech is the only reality ; words, 
 syllables, and letters are abstractions, which do not exist 
 as such. The grammarian analyzes speech into separate 
 words and sounds. He cannot describe his whole subject- 
 matter at once, hence he analyzes, and then evolves the 
 whole out of the parts. In reality, however, the whole is 
 not produced in that way. Language did not begin with 
 the utterance of single sounds or letters, a, b, c, which were 
 then combined into syllables and words, the latter be- 
 ing joined together to form the sentence. Language exists 
 only as connected living speech. Letters and words as such 
 exist only in the grammarian's mind. Most letters cannot 
 even be pronounced by themselves. A similar relation 
 obtains in soul-life. In reference to this, too, the notion 
 prevails that it is composed of ideas, sensations, and emo- 
 tions, as independent elements. Such a conception is 
 absurd. The unitary whole alone has reality, and this 
 psychology analyzes into separate parts and elements for 
 purposes of investigation. Indeed, we may go further and 
 say : Not even the individual soul exists as an independ- 
 ent element. The total life exists, and of it the individual 
 life forms a part or member. We may isolate it in thought, 
 but we cannot find it in the world as an originally inde- 
 pendent element, and then make a whole by the combina- 
 tion of many parts. The old rationalism regarded a people 
 as an aggregation of individuals. Here again Aristotle is 
 right : the whole is before the parts, the parts exist only 
 through the whole. 
 
 The same thoughts are applicable to the physical world : 
 the atom is an abstraction, like the letter ; it does not exist 
 alone and isolated any more than the letter does. It is an 
 object no more existing or capable of existing independently 
 
210 THE COSMOLOGIGAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 than a mute consonant. Try to picture it to yourself as an 
 independent reality. What does it look like ? Is it extended 
 like a body ? If with ancient atomism we affirm the question, 
 it immediately follows that the atom is divisible. Whatever 
 is extended has parts that exist by the side of each other ; it 
 will therefore depend upon the definition whether we can 
 divide the atom or not. If we can, it is not a metaphysical 
 ultimate, a unitary being, but composite like the body. — 
 If we deprive the atom of extension, if we identify it with 
 a point, as mathematical physics does and may do for its 
 purposes, the troublesome question confronts the mate- 
 rialistic metaphysician who would make of the atom the 
 absolute principle of the universe : In what does its 
 essence consist ? What is a real point ? If we reply : a 
 system of forces, we deprive it of its independence, not to 
 mention other difficulties. A force is real only in so far as 
 it acts. Activity, however, presupposes something acted 
 upon. Without this the atom of force can neither exist 
 nor be conceived. And in what does the empty space be- 
 tween the atoms consist ? When we try to answer such 
 questions, we may perhaps find that Kant's hypothesis 
 of continuity which regards space as continuously filled, 
 though with different degrees of intensity, is, to say the least, 
 likely to remove a number of very troublesome problems. 
 At any rate, we cannot but be convinced that, however 
 simple the matter may seem at first sight, atoms do not 
 solve the problem. They have their legitimate value as 
 working-hypotheses in physics and chemistry, and these 
 sciences may conceive them as it suits their purposes. But 
 no one can speak of atoms as existent, ultimate, independent 
 elements of reality, except the man who has never given 
 the subject any thought, and permits himself to be deceived 
 by a seductive analogy. As a wall is composed of bricks, so 
 a brick in turn is composed of smaller bricks, until we finally 
 reach ultimate bricks, which are so small that it is no 
 longer worth our while to trouble ourselves about their 
 nature. 
 
 Let me suggest a thought that is common to Lotze's 
 metaphysics : The separate object has reality only as a 
 part of the whole upon which it acts and by which it is 
 
Ch. IL] INSUFFICIENCY OF ATOMISTIC METAPHYSICS. 211 
 
 acted upon. Popular opinion imagines that the individ- 
 ual object may be posited by itself without reference to its 
 effects. That is a delusion. An object that does not act 
 does not exist. It has reality only as a member of the 
 whole. Keality means, in. this case, to stand in active and 
 passive relations with other things. 
 
 A second reflection, which leads to the same result, 
 proceeds from the concepts of activity and passivity them- 
 selves. Common-sense employs these concepts day after day 
 without finding any special difficulties in them. It reasons 
 about as follows : For things to act and to be acted upon 
 two objects are needed, each of which is a reality in itself. 
 But now it so happens that the object, regardless of its 
 independence, suffers a change of condition, that is not 
 caused by itself ; we say, it suffers an influence which pro- 
 ceeds from without, from the other thing. And in the same 
 way it in turn exerts an influence on the other object. 
 
 It has always been the lot of philosophy to take um- 
 brage at what everybody regards as wholly unobjection- 
 able and self-evident, nodum in scirpo qucerere, Here, too, 
 she asks : What does it really mean — to exert an influence ? 
 We say, the moon exerts an influence upon the earth ; 
 for example, it attracts the water-masses of the ocean, 
 thereby occasioning the phenomenon of the tides. What 
 happens in this case ? Does something separate itself from 
 the moon, then float through empty space over to the earth, 
 attach itself to the water-particles of the ocean and carry 
 them back to the moon ? Does an effluence proceed from 
 the moon, which, diffusing itself equally in all directions, 
 fills and, as it were, scours space ; and whenever this efflu- 
 ence meets a body, be it large or small, does it forthwith 
 attach itself to this and draw or push it towards the moon? 
 Or, how else shall we picture to ourselves the behavior 
 of this influence ? Is the moon connected with the earth, 
 is every mass-particle connected with every other particle, 
 by an invisible rope or band, by means of which the former 
 draws the latter to itself? Physics knows absolutely 
 nothing about these things. What it really tells us when 
 it calls the tidal wave an effect of the moon's power of 
 attraction is this : The movement of the water-masses 
 
212 THE COSMOLOGIÖAL-THEOLÖGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 which we call ebb and flow regularly follows upon certain 
 changes in the moon's position to the earth ; in form and 
 magnitude it corresponds to the motions of falling bodies 
 on the earth. And likewise the proposition : All mass-par- 
 ticles gravitate towards each other, simply means : When- 
 ever and wherever two masses stand in a definite spatial 
 relation to one another, both tend to move towards the 
 common centre of gravity, depending on the size of the 
 mass and the distance. And, finally, the proposition : A and 
 B act and react upon each other, signifies : When A enters 
 upon the state a, B enters upon the state h, and conversely. 
 A uniform and spontaneous concurrence of changes at differ- 
 ent points of the world is all that reciprocal action means for 
 us. Nothing whatever is known of effluences and influences, 
 of bonds and connections, of compulsion and force. 
 
 A physicist may answer : Perhaps that is the case in 
 the given example. At present we can do nothing but 
 describe and mathematically formulate the phenomena of 
 gravitation ; we cannot explain them. But the time may 
 come when it will be possible to give a causal explanation 
 of such phenomena. 
 
 Very well. Let us assume that the time has come, that 
 we have succeeded in reducing the apparently immediate 
 actio ad distans of gravitation to a known form of molecular 
 action, say to pressure and impact, to which natural-scien- 
 tific explanation ultimately leads. Would we then know 
 what happens between the bodies in question, beyond the 
 fact that the movements coincide ? Would we even get 
 rid of the notion of actio ad distans, which is so obnoxious 
 to many physicists ? A billiard-ball in motion strikes one 
 at rest and transfers its own motion to it. Do we see an 
 influence passing over, do we see the motion jumping over 
 upon it ? Does every atom of the ball in motion, perhaps, 
 touch every atom of the other and transmit to it its motion ? 
 Impossible ; for only small portions of the surfaces of the 
 balls touch. Is the motion of every atom detached from 
 it, and does this motion travel, continually passing to its 
 nearest neighbor, in the direction of the point of contact 
 of the two balls through the body of the first ; and is this 
 motion then diffused over the second ball until each element 
 
Ch. II.] INSUFFICIENCY OF ATOMISTIC METAPHYSICS. 213 
 
 of motion has again found an atom which it now carries 
 off in its own direction and with the velocity belonging to 
 it ? I believe it will not be necessary to enlarge upon the 
 strange perplexities to which such a conception gives rise. 
 Let us further simplify the case. Let us put in the 
 place of the two balls two atoms ; let us say that an atom 
 in motion sets an atom at rest in motion by impact arid then 
 comes to a stop itself. Do we see, in this case, an influence 
 passing over from A to B ? Did the motion detach itself 
 from the first atom as though it were a skin, and attach it- 
 self to the second, dragging this after it? But motion is 
 nothing corporeal, nothing substantial, that can detach itself 
 and exist by itself. Hence, what has taken place between 
 the atoms ? I believe that the best we can do is to confess : 
 "We do not know. All that we do know is the fact that at a 
 certain period of time A moved, that the movement ceased 
 at a certain point of time — when the atoms came in contact, 
 and that simultaneously with its cessation B began to move 
 in a like manner, and finally, that the same thing invaria- 
 bly occurs in identical cases. But how the process takes 
 place we know no more in this case than we know of the 
 transference of motion between colliding billiard-balls or 
 of the heavenly bodies that attract each other and mu- 
 tually determine their orbits. Beciprocal action is a term 
 that has no other meaning than : uniformly corresponding 
 change. The only advantage which the notion of the me- 
 chanical transference of motion has over other forms of 
 reciprocal action is that it is the form of action with which 
 we are most familiar and which is most common. We our- 
 selves move and fashion bodies by pressure and impact. 
 In itself it is not more intelligible, nor is its inner possi- 
 bility and necessity or the Jiotv of its process any more 
 transparent than any other form of reciprocal action.* 
 
 * That the force of attraction acting at a distance is just as intelligible or 
 as unintelligible as action by pressure and impact is shown by Zöllner in a 
 discussion on actio ad distans in the first volume of his scientific treatises. 
 He appeals to Kant's Metaph. Anfangsgründe der Naturwiss. , in which mat- 
 ter is explained by the forces of attraction and repulsion, and in which the 
 statement is made "that the original force of attraction is not in the least 
 more inconceivable than original repulsion. Only, it is not such an imme- 
 diate object of the senses as impenetrability." (2 Hptst., Lehrsatz 7, Anm.) 
 
214 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 The inadequacy of this false notion of the causal rela- 
 tion, according to which the cause pushes the effect forward 
 and uses force on it, as it were, is still more apparent in 
 the psychical world. We also apply the causal notion to the 
 processes of inner life. I look at a picture that comes from 
 my home ; it calls up the memories of my youth ; feelings of 
 sadness and longing awake ; the desire to behold the old 
 scenes again arises in me, and is soon transformed into a 
 decision. Everybody agrees that there is a causal con- 
 nection here, whether we can analyze it into its ultimate 
 and unanalyzable elementary connections or not. It is 
 certain that we see nothing of the force and compulsion 
 by which each element is supposed to drive the succeeding 
 element before it, and to push it into existence or con- 
 sciousness, as it were. Each element follows upon the 
 other spontaneously. It is also certain that we are not 
 able to recognize the relation as logically necessary. We 
 simply observe : When such and such a percept arises in 
 this particular consciousness, certain groups of ideas and 
 emotions follow. But how the percept manages to pro- 
 duce an idea, or how a feeling is aroused by an idea, is 
 absolutely unknown to us ; and the physiologists may 
 torture the brain of the dog as much as they please — they 
 will never find out anything about it. The fact that when 
 the one element appears, the other appears or tends to 
 appear, is all that we know. 
 
 , David Hume was the first to carry out this thought 
 concerning the nature of causality, and that is what gives 
 his Inquiry into the Human Understanding the important 
 place which it occupies in the history of philosophy. The 
 most penetrative analysis, he shows, finds nothing whatever 
 of necessity in the relation between cause and effect : 
 neither a necessity of thought, — one, for example, that 
 would enable us logically to deduce the effect from the 
 notion of the cause, — nor a coercion by means of which 
 the active element forces a change upon the passive element. 
 There is no tie at all, no inner connection assignable be- 
 tween cause and effect, which could make the connection 
 between them a necessity of thought. All that we know is 
 that there is regular coexistence of phenomena in time. Kant 
 
Ch. II.] INSUFFICIENCY OF ATOMISTIC METAPHYSICS. 215 
 
 agrees with Hume in this respect : The statement that a 
 causal relation obtains between two phenomena means 
 that they are regularly coexistent in time. He denies no 
 less emphatically than Hume that thought can deduce the 
 effect from the notion of the cause, or that it can reduce the 
 law of causality to the principle of contradiction. 
 
 Nor are these reflections unfamiliar to the older, to the 
 metaphysical school of modern philosophy. Leibniz, in 
 particular, entertains the same notion when he substitutes 
 the principle oi pre-established harmony for that of the recip- 
 rocal action between the elements of reality. The passage 
 of influences from one object into the essence of another 
 seems to him also to be an absurd conception. Monads are 
 not extended beings, with windows and doors through which 
 the "influences" could enter. What really happens is 
 concomitance; accompanying, corresponding changes ; when 
 a change occurs at one point of reality, corresponding 
 changes take place at other points. Occasionalism had 
 prepared the way for this conception. In one case it had 
 not been able to discover the " inner bond " which joins 
 together cause and effect — in the relation, namely, between 
 the body and the soul. Leibniz, following Spinoza, gener- 
 alizes the thought. He rejects the influxus physicus, not 
 only here but everywhere : all things spontaneously har- 
 monize with their changes. Or, the bond which exists 
 between cause and effect is not an accidental and particular 
 bond : it is the universal and essential bond which binds to- 
 gether all the elements of existence. The latter are not 
 foreign and external to each other ; they are members of one 
 being : God is the bond which unites all things in essence ; 
 he is the being in whom all are one. 
 
 Among contemporaries it is Lotze who again adopts this 
 notion and makes it the cardinal point of his system.* 
 Though not seeking any alliance with Hume's empiricism, 
 he insists with him that all causal relations are accidental 
 concepts, that it is impossible to show a tie between cause 
 and effect. With Leibniz, whom he esteems and likes to ac- 
 knowledge as his guide, he deduces the same far-reaching 
 
 * Microcosmus , I. 412 ££., in. 481; System der Metaphysik, 134 ff. 
 
216 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 consequences from this view. The presuppositions of 
 atomism, he finds, make the fact of reciprocal action incon- 
 ceivable and inexplicable. If, as that theory maintains, 
 existence really consisted of a plurality of absolutely inde- 
 pendent substances, the fact that they coincide in their 
 changes would be absolutely unintelligible. If every atom, 
 if every element of reality, is a thing for itself, wholly inde- 
 pendent in its existence and nature, how comes it to regu- 
 late its behavior according to that of other elements ? In 
 that case we should expect each element to follow a course 
 of its own, regardless of all the rest. 
 
 Or, is it, perhaps coerced by the laws of nature ? But 
 these are not outside of or above the things ; they are in 
 them, they are merely the expression of their actual be- 
 havior. Id reality, nothing in any way compels them to be 
 and to act otherwise than according to their own nature. It 
 is not the earth's power of attraction nor the law of gravi- 
 tation which keeps the moon in its course around the earth, 
 but its own sweet will, so to speak. If it should ever leave 
 its orbit and fly off at a tangent, the earth and the law of 
 gravitation would not hinder it. The moon solely obeys 
 its own nature or inclination in pursuing a curvilinear 
 direction constantly deviating from the straight line towards 
 the earth. This is universally true : the laws of nature do 
 not compel things to act in a certain way ; these laws are 
 the expression of the spontaneous activity of the things. 
 They do not explain why things behave as they do, but 
 simply state in a general formula how they behave. They 
 do not solve the riddle ; they are riddles themselves. 
 
 Indeed, atomism should ponder over the question which 
 Lotze asks : How does it happen that so many substances 
 act with such uniformity as to enable us to reduce their 
 behavior to general laws ? Why does not each one act 
 differently if each is wholly independent in its nature and 
 existence from all the rest ? The uniformity of nature might 
 suggest a different view. If we should find a great lot of 
 rocky fragments scattered over a mountain valley, all of 
 them shaped alike, we should surmise that they are the frag- 
 ments of a former whole. Is a similar conjecture perhaps 
 possible in our case ? Is it not possible that the apparently 
 
Ch. IL] INSUFFICIENCY OF ATOMISTIC METAPHYSICS. 217 
 
 independent parts of the world are also, if not ruins of a 
 former whole, yet living members of an existing unitary 
 being ? 
 
 Lotze draws this conclusion. Reciprocal action and the 
 reign of natural law indicate that the elements of the world 
 are not as unrelated to each other as atomism supposes. 
 The universal connection between all things can be under- 
 stood by us only on the assumption that they are all parts 
 of a unitary being, of a single substance. No isolated 
 changes occur in the organic body. Whatever change 
 takes place at a given point necessitates a corresponding 
 change at all the other points. So, too, the world is a uni- 
 tary system which invariably excludes isolated processes. 
 Each process is related to all the rest ; it is the partial al- 
 teration made necessary at any given point by the changes 
 occurring in the whole system. If we call the whole, the 
 All-One, God, as Spinoza calls it, then all reciprocal action 
 takes place in God, since the motion at every point of his 
 being coincides with that occurring at all other points and 
 so forms a system of universal motion. 
 
 Thus, if we pursue the thought of universal reciprocal 
 action and carry it out consistently, we are forced to regard 
 reality as a unity : there is but one unitary being acting in a 
 uniform and harmonious manner ; the individual objects are 
 but parts of its being ; its actions, determined by reciprocal 
 action, are in reality sections of the uniform spontaneous 
 movement of the substance. Or in Kantian phraseology: 
 The universal reciprocal action in the mundus sensihilis is 
 unitas phenomenon, to which corresponds a unitas noumenon 
 of the substance in the mundus intelligibilis. 
 
 May we now connect this view with the results of our 
 ontological discussion, according to which all processes in 
 the corporeal world indicate so many corresponding inner 
 processes ? And may we see in the unification of all cos- 
 mical movements by interaction the reflection of an inner 
 harmony, the manifestation of the unified inner life of a 
 spiritual All-One? This would give us the view called 
 Pantheism. We can also designate it as monotheism in the 
 strict sense of the term : God alone exists ; everything that 
 is, is through God and in God. 
 
218 THE G08M0L0GIGAL-THE0L0GIGAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 Before I attempt to answer the question, let me first 
 consider briefly the relation between causality and finality. 
 
 7. Causality and Finality. 
 
 It was remarked above (p. 160) that the rejection of an- 
 thropomorphic theism and its explanation of nature by 
 design is not equivalent to the rejection of a teleological 
 conception of the world. In resuming these reflections at 
 this point we first ask the question : What characterizes a 
 combination of elements as teleological ? The word itself 
 gives the answer : the fact that their arrangement or activ- 
 ity appears to be directed towards an end (reXos). We re- 
 gard the result of the arrangement or movement as an end, 
 however, only in case it was willed, and in case the appear- 
 ance of the result is felt with satisfaction. To this state- 
 ment we must add, first, that the causal connection of the 
 elements is not excluded but presupposed — every teleo- 
 logical combination is at the same time causal ; secondly, 
 that design is not included in the notion of finality. It is 
 not necessary that the aim pre-exist in consciousness and 
 that the movement occur according to a finished plan. 
 The term Zielstrebigkeit, purposive impulse, has been created 
 by an ingenious natural scientist to characterize the notion 
 of teleology without design.* 
 
 The nature of teleological combinations clearly mani- 
 fests itself in the processes of inner life where teleology is 
 at home. Psychical states are also causally related to one 
 another. A percept or an idea calls up another idea ; its 
 appearance is the cause of the appearance of the second. 
 An emotion, a desire, determines the attention and changes 
 the course of presentation. But the same process of asso- 
 ciation produces a result desired by the will ; groups are 
 formed which the will welcomes as rational and valuable. 
 Still this end or aim did not pre-exist in idea, at least not 
 as a prearranged plan that was subsequently realized. 
 An architect designs the plan of a house. After it is com- 
 
 *K. E. vonBaer, Studien aus dem Gebiet der Naturwissenschaften (1876). 
 In several thoughtful essays the author attacks the " teleophobia " of mod- 
 ern natural science and shows the inevitableness of a teleological view of 
 the organic world. 
 
Chap. IL] CAUSALITY AND FINALITY. 219 
 
 pleted, the masons and carpenters execute it in wood and 
 stone. The plan itself, however, was not made according 
 to a prearranged plan ; nevertheless the intellectual labor 
 of the architect is teleologically conditioned no less than 
 that of the workmen. An orator delivers a speech ; he has 
 been attacked, he wishes to defend himself and to annihi- 
 late his opponent. Now the thoughts, the arguments come 
 into his mind ; the illustrations and periods, the catch- 
 words and quotations, the spiteful remarks against his 
 opponent and the pleasantries to his hearers, fall from 
 his lips, spontaneously as it were. His thoughts obey the 
 laws of association. Each preceding element arouses its 
 successor ; but of a thousand possible asociations that 
 one is invariably effective which leads to the desired end. 
 And so the entire speech is both causally and teleologi- 
 cally conditioned. The will ultimately determines the di- 
 rection of the thoughts and experiences a keen satisfaction 
 at their successful realization. Not everywhere is the 
 process of presentation as teleological as here ; there are 
 vague, indefinite associations which in dream-life and in 
 mental aberration gain the ascendency. But in a healthy 
 mind the course of ideas is universally determined by what 
 is teleologically necessary. 
 
 In every mental system, the elements are in like man- 
 ner both causally and teleologically connected. In every 
 argumentative discourse, in every poetical work, each part 
 is essential to the whole, essential to the realization of the 
 idea ; it is in its proper place an eB, vTCoSecrecsos avayKaiov. 
 At the same time, it has been caused by associative connec- 
 tion. Causal dependence and inner, sesthetical or logical 
 necessity go together. If we run through the series from 
 the beginning, we see how each element produces each sub- 
 sequent element. If we reverse the process, beginning at the 
 end, we see how the result determines everything that pre- 
 cedes, from the very start. The thing to be proved governs 
 the course of the whole argument ; the issue of the drama 
 influences the exposition. Hence, the last is at the same 
 time the first cause from which the movement proceeds ; 
 the reXoG is, as Aristotle says, also the o$ev 1) Kirr/cris. 
 Everything is attracted by it, and everything tends towards. 
 
220 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 it. In the mental world, action takes place, not by an im- 
 pact from behind, but bj the spontaneous striving for the 
 goal. The goal, however, is not the external end, but the 
 realized whole, the completed unity of the poem or of the 
 argument or speech ; it is the entelechy of Aristotle. 
 
 What is true of the separate mental products is also 
 true of soul-life as a whole. A healthy human life forms 
 a complete whole, a rational unity. It is not a series of 
 accidents, a mechanical displacement of elements of con- 
 sciousness, but a unity held together by an inner necessity 
 and having many parts, similar to a symphony with many 
 parts and arranged for many voices. We cannot, it is 
 true, interpret every element as a teleological necessity, as 
 in a work of fiction. An element of what we call chance 
 enters here. But we cannot refrain from viewing the whole 
 as a unity combined by inner necessity. Every biographer 
 contemplates the life of his hero as a whole bound to- 
 gether by an inner, intelligible necessity. Every man pic- 
 tures his past to himself in the same way. And at every 
 moment of life the living being feels life as a tendency for- 
 ward. Movement does not take place by a pushing and 
 pulling from behind, but, as it were, by being drawn to the 
 goal. The goal, however, is the realization of the idea. 
 The image of the man is, in the soul of the boy, the hid- 
 den motive-force which governs his development. The 
 idea of a life-work which is itself unfolded in the course of 
 life directs the activity of man and gives it force. Purpo- 
 sive impulse characterizes all healthy life./ And the same 
 is true of the life of a people. This too moves, not pushed 
 by pressure and impact, but attracted by an idea, as it 
 were, of its complete development. Not as if a nation were 
 determined by a simple and clear idea present alike in all ! 
 The nature of the people is developed by the living inter- 
 action of the most diverse tendencies, but that which 
 moves all by its attractive force is an idea ; the future 
 development of the people is somehow present in all. All 
 groups, all parties, behold in the gray dawn of the future 
 the vague outlines and the glamour of perfection, and are 
 irresistibly attracted by these. 
 
 Hence causality and finality go together in mental evo- 
 
Chap. II ] CAUSALITY AND FINALITY. 221 
 
 lution. Mental action is characterized by the spontaneous 
 concurrence of a plurality of elements in a series, every 
 member of which is determined by an inner logical, sesthet- 
 ical, or ethical necessity. 
 
 Herein, let us remark in passing, lies whatever of justi- 
 fication there may be for the opposition to deterministic 
 theories. If the nature of causality consisted of an exter- 
 nal necessity which excludes inner necessity, they would 
 be right who rebel against its application to the mental 
 world. Only, in that case they ought to go a step farther 
 and maintain that the causal law is invalid not only for the 
 will, but for the entire soul-life. But if we define the no- 
 tion of causality correctly, if we mean by it what Hume 
 and Leibniz meant by it, that is, the regular harmony be- 
 tween the changes of many elements, then it is plain that 
 it prevails in the mental world no less than in nature. It 
 may be more difficult to detect uniformity in the former 
 case or to reduce it to elementary laws than in the latter. 
 Still it is evident that such uniformity exists. Isolated or 
 lawless elements exist in neither sphere ; each element is 
 definitely related to antecedent, simultaneous, and succeed- 
 ing elements. We can hardly reduce these relations to 
 mathematical formulae anywhere ; but their existence is 
 perfectly plain everywhere. Everybody tacitly assumes : 
 Under wholly identical inner and outer circumstances the 
 same would invariably ensue ; the same idea, the same 
 emotion, and the same volition would follow the same 
 stimulus. Freedom by no means conflicts with causality 
 properly understood ; freedom is not exemption from law. 
 Surely ethics has no interest in a freedom of inner life that 
 is equivalent to lawlessness and incoherency. On the con- 
 trary, the occurrence of absolutely disconnected elements, 
 isolated volitions standing in no causal connection with the 
 past and the future, would mean derangement of the will, 
 nay, the complete destruction of psychical existence. If 
 there were no determination whatever of the consequent 
 by the antecedent, then, of course, there could be no such 
 thing as exercise and experience, there could be no efficacy 
 in principles and resolutions, in education and public insti- 
 tutions. Without causality, no finality. 
 
222 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 What then is the relation between causality and finality 
 in the physical ivorld ? Do they go together here also, or 
 is there no finality, no inner necessity in nature ? 
 
 The latter is the prevailing opinion ; it perceives exter- 
 nal necessity in nature, but not inner necessity. It regards 
 the mechanical transference of motion as the original form 
 of natural efficiency. With a teleological necessity, on the 
 other hand, it will have nothing whatever to do. v. Baer 
 is evidently right : the current view is afflicted with teleo- 
 phobia. It seems to me that he is also right in finding the 
 reason for it, not in nature, but in the natural scientist's 
 fear of a false teleology. Teleophobia is the reaction 
 against the old teleology of design, which repudiated and 
 wished to replace a causal explanation. 
 
 First, let us remember what we discovered in the pre- 
 ceding chapter as the real nature of the causal relation in 
 the physical world : Reciprocal action is nothing but corre- 
 sponding change. Influences and compulsion are out of 
 the question. The universal reciprocal action of all the 
 parts of the universe means that the world forms a unified 
 system with unified motion, in which each movement of 
 each part is inserted into its proper place as a member 
 harmonizing with the movements of all the other parts. 
 We cannot emphasize this strongly enough : necessity ex- 
 ists in logical thought but not in nature ; all uniformity in 
 nature is spontaneous coincidence of all the parts. 
 
 Here also the coincidence is reciprocal. The antece- 
 dent determines the consequent ; but we can say equally 
 well : The consequent determines the antecedent. The 
 warmth of the room is an effect of the heated stove ; but 
 we can say with equal right : The absorption of heat by the 
 surroundings is the cause of the cooling of the stove. The 
 impact of one body upon another is the cause of the move- 
 ment of the second ; but it is just as correct to say : The 
 movement of the impelled body is the cause of the impel- 
 ling body's loss of motion or coming to rest. We conceive 
 the matter in this way wherever we have to do, not with 
 the instigation but with the cessation of a movement. 
 Hence, generally speaking, without the cause the effect 
 
Chap. IL] CAUSALITY AND FINALITY. 223 
 
 could not be, but just as little could the cause be without 
 the effect. 
 
 The question now is : Is the causal connection in the 
 external world at the same time a final connection just as 
 it is in the inner world ? Does an inner teleological rela- 
 tion exist between the members of the series in the former 
 case ? In one field everybody regards the subject in this 
 light, that is, in the matter of life. Yital processes form a 
 connection of causes and effects ; they are everywhere con- 
 ditioned by the uniform reciprocal action of all the parts, 
 but at the same time they are " purposive impulses " in 
 the sense that they combine themselves into a unity, that 
 is, life, which we cannot help regarding as the aim which 
 all functions serve as means. Pursuit, the seizure of prey, 
 the devouring and digestion of it, are causes of the preser- 
 vation of life ; but at the same time life is the end, and 
 these functions are means to that end. And if the func- 
 tions are means, the organs surely are. If seeing exists 
 for the sake of life, the eyes exist for the sake of sight. 
 They are formed for this purpose in the foetus. 
 
 Not at all, the teleophobic natural philosopher answers ; 
 only the first half of the proposition is valid : the animal 
 sees because it has eyes, but the eyes do not exist in order 
 that it may see ; it butts because it has horns, it has not 
 horns in order to defend itself and to butt. That is 
 illegitimate anthropomorphism. Teleology perverts and 
 destroys the causal, that is, the true conception of nature ; 
 it turns things upside down. Such is the view of our mod- 
 ern materialistic, mechanistic, natural philosophers, who 
 in this respect agree with old Lucretius.* 
 
 They ought to continue and say : The steer butts, not 
 in order to overcome his opponent, but his opponent falls 
 because he butts. The spider does not spin her web in 
 order to catch flies, but because the web exists, flies are 
 caught in it, and because the spider has feeding-organs, 
 the fly gets into them, and because matters have now gone 
 
 * Lucretius, De verum natura, iv. 830 : 
 
 Omnia perversa prsepostera sunt ratione, 
 Nil ideo quoniam natumst in corpore, ut uti 
 Possemus, sed quod natumst id procreat usum. 
 
224 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 so far, the fly is transported to the inside and digested. 
 Ends are wholly out of question ; we have here only causal 
 connections. And if what our materialistic philosophers 
 say is true of the spider, they ought to continue the 
 thought and say : The case is not different with man ; he 
 does not weave the net in order to catch fish, but because 
 his hands move as they do, the threads are twisted together 
 into a net, and because the net is dragged through the 
 water in such a way, the fishes are brought out by it. 
 
 Perhaps this will be too much even for the teleophobic 
 physicist. He will say : No ; in man teleological activity 
 is really present ; here we have volition and presentation of 
 the end as the beginning of the series, and hence the causal 
 series is also a final series. 
 
 Yery well. Let us assume this. But ought we not to 
 claim the same for the spider ? For is not the materialistic 
 philosopher wont to insist emphatically that man is ä mem- 
 ber of the animal series ? "What does the spider lack that 
 its vital activity should be treated differently ? Volition 
 and presentation of the end ? Surely not volition, unless 
 we deny all inner life to it. Shall we say then that it is 
 without presentation, that it does not anticipate the result? 
 And would that deprive its action of its teleological char- 
 acter ? Would you ascribe such action to the spider, only 
 in case it deliberated and said to itself : Life consists in 
 metabolic change, hence the materials consumed must be 
 restored by food ; flies are food, and nets a means of 
 catching flies ? It is plain, however, that on that condition 
 only a small portion of human activity can be regarded as 
 purposive. Perhaps our fisherman knows no more than 
 the spiders of metabolic change and the necessary res- 
 toration or of the fitness of such and such substances for 
 such and such purposes. Shall we therefore say that only 
 some of the acts are purposive ? Shall we say that mak- 
 ing nets and catching fish are purposive acts, but that there 
 is no purposiveness in chewing, swallowing, and digesting ? 
 Are we concerned here solely with causal, not with teleo- 
 logical, series ? Does the process of mastication and diges- 
 tion become purposive only for the physiologist who has a 
 clear conception of it ? I believe this separation of human 
 
Chap. II] CAUSALITY AND FINALITY. 225 
 
 vital processes into purposive and purposeless ones, into 
 such as are both causal and final and such as are causal 
 only, is utterly absurd. 
 
 Well, if it is true that the entire life of man must be 
 conceived as a teleological process, because and in so far 
 as it corresponds to a will, even though the ends and 
 means are not wholly in consciousness, the same must be 
 true of the animal world. And if the activities which tend 
 to the preservation of individual life are purposive im- 
 pulses, those will be no less so that have as their objective 
 aim the preservation of the genus : nest-building, ovula- 
 tion, hatching and brooding, and what not. And if this is 
 the case, we cannot help but look at the development and 
 formation of organs in the same way. 
 
 Indeed, it is in every way impossible to contradict the 
 one statement without denying the other. It is impossible 
 to regard human actions as purposive impulses without 
 acknowledging the acts of animals to be the same. And it 
 is equally impossible to concede the point in the case of the 
 so-called animal or voluntary activities without assuming it 
 also for the vegetative processes, which are not merely the 
 essential preconditions of the former, but could never be 
 wholly separated from them. Indeed, both forms of vital 
 processes everywhere merge into one another. And again, 
 if we grant that the teleological view is valid for the vege- 
 tative processes in the animal world, we cannot reject it in 
 the plant world ; for the processes are certainly the same. 
 
 But after having gone so far, it will be difficult to stop. 
 Living beings did not suddenly drop down from the skies : 
 they are the legitimate products of the world ; they are 
 fashioned of the elements which constitute the body of the 
 earth ; they arose under the influence of the entire cosmic- 
 telluric system. These particular fish could arise only in 
 this particular ocean, and our animal world only upon our 
 earth and beneath this sun. The co-operation of all things 
 was necessary to produce this particular animate world. 
 " This animal kingdom," v. Baer declares, " cannot exist 
 without the vegetable kingdom ; this again cannot arise 
 before the stony crust of the earth has been disintegrated 
 into loose soil by physical and chemical influences. We 
 
226 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 must further presuppose that this soil is watered by rains 
 from time to time. The rain can fall only on condition 
 that the water has previously been absorbed by the air, 
 that it has been carried to a higher stratum and then 
 condensed by a change of temperature. The water, again, 
 cannot rise unless the earth is heated by the sun's rays. 
 Hence the smallest blade of grass really calls into play 
 the entire planetary system with all its arrangements and 
 movements, and all the laws of nature." The poet Goethe, 
 who is inspired as no other with the thought of the unity 
 of the world, expresses this truth in the lines : 
 
 Das Stäubclien, selbst der unfruchtbare Stein, 
 Indern er sein Gesetz hat, muss er wirken 
 Und thätig für das grosse Ganze sein. 
 
 And so it happens that this " purposive impulse," when 
 once admitted at a single point, extends over the whole of 
 nature. It is mere caprice to insist, on the one hand, that 
 man is but a piece of universal nature, that the territory 
 he occupies is not exempt, not an Imperium in imperio, and 
 then, on the other hand, to protest against the theory of 
 finality, on the ground that it is an altogether inadmissible 
 anthropomorphic conception of nature. If nature acts an- 
 thropomorphically at one point, and that cannot be denied, 
 it is hard to see why a similar procedure should be so ab- 
 solutely out of the question at other points. 
 
 But, says the teleophobic natural philosopher, outside 
 of organic life the principle is lacking without which there 
 can be no purpose at all, that is, inner life and will. 
 
 This brings us to the very root of the opposition to the 
 teleological view of nature. It springs from the materialistic 
 conception of nature as an aggregation of inert atoms me- 
 chanically moved according to laws. And here the old teleol- 
 ogy of design wholly agrees with the mechanical theory. 
 It, too, regards nature as a mass of lifeless, inert matter, 
 but adds : Hence nature could not have arranged itself as 
 we find it arranged ; it is therefore necessary to assume 
 that an intellect outside of nature has joined things to- 
 gether according to design. But the theoretical conscience 
 of the natural scientist rebels against this conclusion. We 
 know nothing whatever of such external interference by a 
 
€hap. il.] CAUSALITY AND FINALITY. 227 
 
 spirit, nor would it explain anything ; it is a mere asylum 
 ignorantix. So far, so good. But the scientist does not 
 stop here ; he goes on to deny final causes altogether, even 
 in the organic world. This brings him face to face with 
 the above-mentioned absurd consequences against which 
 the theory of design again directs its attacks. So we are 
 driven around in an endless circle. 
 
 As far as I can see, there is but one way of escape from 
 this labyrinth. We must abandon the assumption that 
 nature consists of dead matter and accept the ontological 
 theory of parallelism established above (pp. 80 ff.). The 
 inner world, the world of will, is coextensive with the 
 physical world. Then we may say : Strictly speaking, 
 only physical causality prevails in the physical world, 
 while finality universally coexists with it in the concomi- 
 tant inner world. The mechanical philosophy of nature is 
 right : All natural processes, even vital processes, may be 
 explained purely physically ; there is no interference by 
 an intelligent cause. But Spinoza is also right : All physi- 
 cal processes point to concomitant inner processes and are 
 teleologically related. And so we may assign a teleologi- 
 cal character to physical processes in relation to the inner 
 life of which they are the manifestations. Take an exam- 
 ple. The physicist explains the working of a pipe-organ 
 in a purely mechanical way. Here you have pipes arranged 
 in such and such a way, there you have compressed air. 
 When this particular valve is opened, the air rushes into 
 the pipe and causes the column of air in it to vibrate in a 
 particular manner. And then the physiologist comes 
 along and gives a similar explanation of the organist. 
 Here we have a peculiarly-arranged brain and nervous sys- 
 tem into which certain stimuli passing from the sheet of 
 music and the keyboard enter through the eye. These 
 act as purely physical causes and discharge reactionary 
 movements so that the fingers press the keys in a particu- 
 lar order. That is the physical side of the process. There 
 is, however, another aspect to it : visual and auditory sen- 
 sations exist, and the notes and the melody arouse feelings 
 of pleasure. The members of the latter series have an 
 inner, teleological connection. And this inner side is really 
 
228 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 the essential element, of which the process in the nervous 
 system of the organist is but an external manifestation. 
 We simplify our language and call these physical states, 
 which express inner states, purposive actions, such as play- 
 ing on the organ and writing music, making nets and catch- 
 ing fish. So we come to assign teleological activity to 
 organic life in general, not in the sense that the organism 
 is jointed together by a thinking being external to it, but 
 because it is the manifestation of an inner life unfolding 
 itself with inner necessity. The phenomenal purposive 
 impulse of the body is the reflection of the real purposive 
 impulse of an inner life.* 
 
 Assuming the validity of our ontological argument, we 
 shall go on and say : This is not an accidental and isolated 
 fact, but absolutely universal. Not merely a few move- 
 ments in nature, the so-called voluntary movements of ani- 
 mals, but all movements are accompanied by inner pro- 
 cesses which are like those experienced in ourselves. 
 "Will, we felt ourselves impelled to say with Schopenhauer, 
 is that which appears in all physical processes, in the vital 
 processes of animals and plants, as well as in the move- 
 ments of inorganic bodies ; not a will, like our will, enlight- 
 ened by ideas, but none the less will in the broadest 
 acceptation of the term, embracing under it blind impulse 
 and striving devoid of ideas. If this view is tenable, then 
 all natural processes, in so far as they are manifestations 
 of will, will have to possess the characteristic of the will, 
 purposive impulse. And in so far as the will-units of a 
 lower order are comprehended into a higher and finally 
 into a highest and ultimate will-unity, universal nature will 
 have to be regarded as the phenomenon of a unified sys- 
 tem of ends. Then all ends will meet in the life of God ; 
 in him each element of reality will be a necessity of 
 
 * Spinoza has not the heart to deduce this consequence from parallelism; 
 he is too much absorbed in his opposition to the teleology of design. But 
 Leibniz, who looks at things more impartially, consistently draws the con- 
 clusion : " Les ämes agissent selon les loix des causes finales par appeti- 
 tions, fins et moyens. Les corps agissent selon les causes efficientes ou. 
 des mouvements. Et les deux regnes, celui des causes efficientes et celui 
 des causes finales, sont harmoniques entre eux." — Monadoiogy, § 79. 
 
Chap. IL] CAUSALITY AND FINALITY. 229 
 
 thought; his self-realization or entelechy will be the 
 ground and the end of all things. 
 
 Of course, we must immediately add : We cannot com- 
 plete the thought, we cannot conceive the inner side of 
 the whole of reality. Its external side is the immediate 
 object of our knowledge. For that reason the causal con- 
 ception predominates in our science. The teleological in- 
 terpretation is hardly more than a postulate or uncertain 
 possibility. We can calculate the motions of the planets, 
 but the ear cannot apprehend the harmony of the spheres. 
 The attempt to understand the order of nature from its 
 meaning simply makes us conscious of our inability to 
 penetrate through phenomena to their meaning. Hence 
 natural science is right for confining itself to the purely 
 causal view. But it is in the wrong for charging the failure 
 of a teleological explanation of nature, not to the subject, 
 but to the objects ; and for not saying : The purpose of 
 nature transcends our knowledge ; instead of : There is no 
 purpose or meaning in nature. 
 
 In one of the essays mentioned above, K. v. Baer de- 
 clares that the natural scientist invariably has three ques- 
 tions to answer : What or how ? By what means ? Where- 
 fore or to what end ? I for my part do not blame the 
 scientist as such for ignoring the last question and for be- 
 lieving that his task is limited to the description of the 
 facts and the explanation of their causal connection. But 
 as a human being he will inevitably raise the last question : 
 To what end ? We find the idea of the wherefore or to what 
 end expressed in our own lives and we cannot avoid pro- 
 jecting it into the nature surrounding us. Everybody act- 
 ually reads a teleological connection into the vital pro- 
 cesses. No one merely regards all processes in animal 
 life as equally real and equally important links of a causal 
 chain, but emphasizes certain parts around which as the 
 purposive impulse the others are grouped. An insect 
 passes through a series of stages of development ; it exists 
 as an ovum, as a caterpillar, as a chrysalis, and as a butter- 
 fly, and then the cycle begins anew in the ovum. We say 
 the life of the butterfly is the climax of this development ; 
 the other forms of existence are its preliminary stages or 
 
230 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 necessary preconditions. We should likewise distinguish 
 a climax or goal in the evolution of a planetary or solar 
 system if we had a comprehensive view of the whole. But, 
 of course, we cannot prove it. The different phases of in- 
 sect-life are all equally real, and the butterfly is as much 
 the condition of the origin of the egg, as the egg, of the 
 butterfly. "Whoever regards the ovum or the caterpillar 
 as more beautiful and important than the butterfly cannot 
 be contradicted. And even if some one were to assert that 
 the little heap of dung which an animal produces in the 
 course of its life and finally augments with its decomposing 
 corpse is the real aim of life, he could 10t be refuted. 
 Perhaps a man who has grown rich on the guano-trade 
 would not find such a view so very absurd. For the no- 
 tion is indeed very common that the trees of the primeval 
 world have grown in order to supply us with fuel. The 
 case is not different with an individual or natural life. 
 Whoever regards the stimulation of the palate or other 
 sensuous pleasures as the highest content of life cannot be 
 refuted. And if a man should happen to have no feeling 
 whatever for the distinctions of value between the differ- 
 ent modes of life, if they all struck him as equally impor- 
 tant or equally unimportant, no line of reasoning could 
 create such a feeling in him. Here we are not dealing with 
 objective knowledge ; influenced by our subjective feelings we 
 accentuate certain elements. A man entirely devoid of voli- 
 tion and feeling, having no appreciation of these things, a 
 man consisting of pure intellect, would never reach a teleo- 
 logical view, or be able to appreciate one. For him, one 
 thing would be as important or as unimportant as the 
 next, or rather hot important or unimportant at all, but 
 simply an existing fact. All predicates expressing rela- 
 tions of value would be wholly unintelligible to him. 
 
 In a certain sense, the natural scientist transforms him- 
 self into such an abstract, pure intellect ; and he must do 
 it in order to fulfil his mission, which is to explain the ob- 
 jective causal relations of things. Only, he must not think 
 that what constitutes the perfection of the natural scien- 
 tist as such — that is, freedom from inclinations and aver- 
 sions — also constitutes the perfection of man as such. It 
 
Chap. II.] CAUSALITY AND FINALITY. 231 
 
 is absolutely characteristic of man to feel and appreciate 
 distinctions of value, to distinguish and feel the good and 
 the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, the sublime and the 
 insignificant. The loss of this faculty would be equivalent 
 to the loss of personality itself. A human being is not 
 mere abstract understanding. 
 
 This sesthetico-teleological conception of reality finds 
 its true expression in art and poetry. Its real function 
 consists in showing and making intelligible the meaning of 
 a natural being or a mental evolution, by pointing out and 
 emphasizing certain features. Religion is also concerned 
 with the interpretation of the value of reality, and is there- 
 fore most intimately connected with art and poetry ; as is 
 universally proved by anthropology. Artistic-religious in- 
 terpretation and scientific explanation consequently form 
 an antithesis, but do not exclude each other. The latter 
 appeals to the understanding ; it strives to reduce the 
 world to general concepts and formulae, without regard to 
 subjective distinctions of value. The former, on the other 
 hand, appeals to the will, to the feelings ; it aims to evalu- 
 ate not only the facts of human life but of universal exist- 
 ence ; it strives to reveal the aims and ideals which, as 
 standards, guide our judgments of worth, and, as motives, 
 govern the will and fill the heart with joy. This difference 
 of function does not render the two conceptions hostile to 
 each other, but invites them peacefully to supplement each 
 other. On this point we agree with the remarks of A. 
 Lange in the last chapter of his History of Materialism, con- 
 cerning what is allowable and inevitable in the idealization 
 of reality. He does not mean that it is advisable or per- 
 missible to delude one's self and to falsify reality, as it 
 were. The faculty of not seeing what exists and of seeing 
 what does not exist, though it may be common, especially 
 among politicians and lawgivers both of State and Church, 
 can certainly not be reckoned among human perfections. 
 But yet it is inevitable that a man who has a heart as well 
 as a head should select certain elements of reality and 
 evaluate them, and furthermore that he should regard what 
 he chooses as the essential and truly real element. This 
 happens when we try to understand a person ; the heart 
 
232 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 tells us what lie is in reality and in his true nature. We 
 do the same in the case of a nation ; in fact we do it all 
 the time. We idealize things in so far as our love selects 
 the features by which we determine their essence. And 
 then this essence or the inner form, to use Aristotle's 
 words, appears to us both as the end and the moving cause 
 of their origin and activity ; it moves, however, by exciting 
 desire {Kivei goS epcojuevov). 
 
 8. Pantheism and World-soul. 
 
 We now return to the question raised above : Is all 
 striving and willing, as it confronts us in the thousand 
 diverse forms of existence, finally combined into the unity 
 of one being and will ? Does a unity of inner life, in whose 
 self-movement and self-realization all individual life and 
 striving is included, correspond to the unity of the physi- 
 cal world in universal reciprocal action ? The affirmation 
 of this question gives us the conception of the universe 
 called Idealistic Pantheism. Let me state its fundamental 
 features in a few formulae. 
 
 1. Eeality is a unity. The individual objects do not 
 possess absolute independence ; their reality and essence 
 is contained in the All-One, in the ens realissimum et perfec- 
 tissimum, of which they are the more or less independent 
 members. Or, in Spinoza's proposition : Eeality is one 
 substance, objects are modifications of its essence posited 
 in it. 
 
 2. The essence of the All-One reveals itself to us, in so 
 far as it reveals itself at all, in the two aspects of existence, 
 in nature and history. In Spinoza's proposition : The sub- 
 stance is developed and conceived under two attributes, 
 extension and consciousness. This proposition is then modi- 
 fied by epistemological reflections to mean that the mental 
 world is the true reality, the corporeal world, however, its 
 phenomenon and representation in our sensibility. 
 
 3. The universal reciprocal action in the corporeal 
 world is the manifestation of the inner, aisthetico-teleological 
 necessity, with which the All-One unfolds its essence in a 
 variety of harmonious modifications, in a cosmos of con- 
 
Chap. IL] PANTHEISM AND WORLD-SOUL. 233 
 
 crete ideas (monads, entelechies). This inner necessity is 
 at the same time absolute freedom or self-realization. As 
 Spinoza says : Substance is causa sui or causa libera ; it un- 
 folds its essence with inner (logico-mathematical) necessity. 
 
 Is there any foundation for this view ? After what has 
 gone before, I cannot be expected to establish it by proofs 
 that bind the understanding. All that can be done is to 
 show that whoever attentively and candidly inquires into 
 the meaning of things and impartially observes reality, 
 finally accepts such thoughts. 
 
 I call to mind the starting-points of the reflections in- 
 dicated in the preceding sections. I remind the reader of 
 the unity of the physical world with its universal interac- 
 tion and universal uniformity ; of the spontaneous harmony 
 of all the parts ; there is no necessity in nature. Further- 
 more, let him remember that reality as a whole is free from 
 external compulsion ; its motion can be explained only as 
 spontaneous movement proceeding from within ; there is 
 no force outside of reality by means of which this motion 
 could be imparted by impact. I again mention the dual 
 form in which reality confronts us at the point at which it 
 is most clearly revealed to us, in our own nature, as body 
 and soul ; a fact which leads us to presume that corporeal- 
 ity universally points to a concomitant inner life. Finally, 
 I call to mind the "purposive impulse " which meets us in 
 the little fragments of existence of which we have some- 
 thing more than a mere astronomical knowledge. We are 
 not doing violence to the facts when we interpret them 
 after the manner of speculative philosophy, which in this 
 respect simply follows in the footsteps of popular opinion. 
 The evolution of the earth strives after the realization of 
 life, life after consciousness, consciousness after mind : the 
 evolution of mind is the central purpose of earthly exist- 
 ence. Hence, if the conclusion from the part to the whole 
 is valid, the highest mental life is the central purpose of 
 all reality. Should any one, however, object to the prop- 
 osition and say : As far as we can see,- mental life is the 
 highest aim and the permanent good not even upon our 
 earth ; nay, it can be regarded only as a slight incident 
 which will soon vanish, for the disappearance of life and 
 
234 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 mind is the inevitable result of the earth's cosmical posi- 
 tion, — that would not disconcert us. If it is so, we should 
 say: Plants, too, wither and die, while the elements of 
 which they consist remain ; yet that does not hinder us 
 from regarding life and bloom as the purpose of the plant. 
 So, too, the earth may at some time wither away and die, 
 but none the less life, mental life, was the goal of its de- 
 velopment. And even if it does come to an end, it is not 
 lost. Eeality is not annihilated by becoming a thing of 
 the past. The past remains an eternal constituent of real- 
 ity, and the present moment does not comprise the whole 
 of reality. Besides, what do we know of the fate of the 
 earth and the solar system? They may be drawn into 
 larger spheres and destined for a greater future than our 
 cosmical physicists dream of now. If there is no original 
 state of existence, but only an ultimate point for our in- 
 quiries, the same most likely holds of the final state. The 
 limit of our wits is not the limit of existence. The day-fly 
 may think when the sun sets and its life ends with the 
 coming of night : Now it is all over ; the light is extin- 
 guished forever and the whole world is sinking into dark- 
 ness and death. Man, who has seen so many suns rise 
 and set, ought to have learned enough to believe that the 
 infinite contains possibilities and issues that are hidden 
 from him. 
 
 May we now gather all these reflections into a single 
 thought and say : What we see in our own lives on the 
 small scale, what we seem to recognize also in the life of 
 the earth, is true of the world at large ? Are its aim and 
 being contained in a universal life, in an eternal spiritual 
 life, the fulness of which far surpasses our notions of it, 
 but of whose essence we get a glimpse in our own spiritual 
 natures ? 
 
 I believe that we may make such statements and that 
 we may add : There is no view which explains existence 
 more simply and clearly. Moreover, this view is the only 
 one which explains the fact for which every philosopher 
 has been trying to find a place in reality, the fact of life ; 
 it is the only one which harmonizes soul-life with the rest 
 of the world, and for the first time makes its origin and 
 
Chap. II.] PANTHEISM AND WORLD-SOUL, 235 
 
 existence conceivable. In atomistic materialism mental 
 life appears as a strange anomaly ; we cannot brush it 
 aside, its existence is an indisputable fact, and yet it is a 
 stumbling-block to the theory ; if it were not for it, what 
 an easy matter the explanation of the universe would be ! 
 As it is, an unwelcome remainder is left over, and mauy 
 are frank enough to confess with Du Bois-Eeymond that 
 soul, consciousness, and mind are in their conception of 
 the universe an "absolute world-riddle." In our view, 
 however, mind may feel at home in the world ; it may re- 
 gard itself as flesh of its flesh and bone of its bone. I do 
 not believe that a stronger argument can be offered against 
 the truth of a conception of the world than the fact that it 
 is compelled to give up the explanation of mind as an ab- 
 solute riddle. And, on the other hand, I hardly know 
 what argument could convince the human mind of the 
 truth of a theory more than one in which it can, as it were, 
 feel at home in the world. 
 
 That this view is indeed more plausible than any other 
 is shown by the fact that all thinkers, with the exception 
 of a few philosophizing physicists, are remarkably unani- 
 mous in regarding it as the final explanation of the uni- 
 verse. In the East as in the West, in ancient as well as in 
 modern times, the thoughts of the freest and profoundest 
 have converged towards this point. The meditations of 
 the great civilized nations of the East came to rest in an 
 idealistic pantheism. The Greek mind also found its. 
 world-formula in a similar line of thought, in the Platonic- 
 Aristotelian philosophy : Keality is a unity, an absolute 
 unity of everything spiritual and good. The thought of 
 the middle ages also gravitates towards our conception ;. 
 we might almost say, against their will. Wherever mod- 
 ern philosophy finds its freest and boldest expression, it 
 invariably returns to this view. Bruno and Spinoza are 
 driven to it by modern cosmological and scientific reflec- 
 tions, speculative philosophy by its new mode of conceiv- 
 ing historical life : Existence is a unified spiritual life, the 
 visible part of which is the evolution of psychical life, and 
 particularly of earthly human life. 
 
 During the ascendency of speculative philosophy, this 
 
236 THE C0SM0L0G1CAL-THE0L0GICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 theory, in which the world was supposed to have become 
 conscious of itself and to have conceived itself as spirit, 
 was regarded as absolute truth. There was no doubt in 
 the minds of its adherents that it was destined to be ac- 
 cepted as universal truth. It was called the secret religion 
 of the cultured classes, and its followers were convinced 
 that it would gradually penetrate into such circles as were 
 as yet unable to grasp truth except in concrete images. 
 But it happened otherwise. As far as there can be any 
 question of a philosophical world- view among the cultured 
 (most of them get along without any), it is more apt to be 
 found along the lines of natural-scientific materialism or 
 of an epistemological scepticism. The physical view of 
 
 % things has dislodged the poetical-speculative reflection. 
 The notion of an inner universal life is, for the most part, 
 wholly foreign to our natural scientists. The idea of a 
 
 • world-soul, of a spiritual universe, a mundus intelligibilis, 
 seems to them to be as childish a dream as that of anthro- 
 pomorphic gods. They do not need the hypothesis, they 
 can explain the world by means of atoms and physical 
 forces, excepting, perhaps, that small remainder, the states 
 of consciousness in the brain of living beings. Science, it 
 is said, has entered upon its period of manhood ; it no 
 longer allows itself to indulge in the childish play of such 
 fantastical speculations. Let him who has a craving for 
 them apply to the philosophical stragglers. And the edu- 
 cated classes, intimidated by the self-assurance of natural 
 science, are ashamed to profess views that do not bear its 
 stamp. 
 
 I am far from wishing to force my notions upon the 
 reluctant by means of arguments. I look upon such an 
 enterprise as hopeless, or rather, as absolutely impossible. 
 If any one desires to stop at the astronomical-physical 
 view of the world, we cannot dislodge him. He can say : 
 This is what we know ; beyond it we know nothing. States 
 of consciousness are isolated phenomena incidental to liv- 
 ing beings. "Whether any further cosmic importance is to 
 be attributed to them, we cannot know. With metaphysi- 
 cal hypotheses, however, I shall have nothing to do. The 
 person speaking thus cannot be assailed. He lays himself 
 
Chap. IL] PANTHEISM AND WORLD-SOUL. 237 
 
 open to attack, however, as soon as he goes further and 
 declares : That of which we have no knowledge does not 
 exist ; all that can be said of the universe is what astron- 
 omy and physics teach of it. 
 
 The best way, perhaps, of meeting such a negative dog- 
 matism is to ask questions. As Hume remarked and Soc- 
 rates perceived before him, the questioner invariably has 
 an advantage over those making positive assertions con- 
 cerning such subjects. So you know all about the world, 
 do you ? we shall ask. It is a great collection of atoms ; 
 there is no such thing as soul and spirit, except in the few 
 brains which the earth and perhaps some other planet oc- 
 casionally produces ? On what is this knowledge of yours 
 based ? Upon the fact that you have never seen a world- 
 soul or anything like it ? But have you ever seen the soul 
 of an animal or of a man? And yet you believe in its 
 existence. Why ? Because you happen to see brain and 
 nerves? Yery well. And would you, then, believe in a 
 world-soul if we were to show you the brain and the nerves 
 of the world ? But if the world had a brain, it would pre- 
 sumably have to have eyes too, and ears and legs and 
 wings or fins, and a spinal column and a heart and a stom- 
 ach? Hence, if all these things were shown to you, if the 
 world had the form of an immense bird or whale or ele- 
 phant, if it masticated and digested food like other animals, 
 then you too would believe there must be a soul in that ? * 
 
 What a wonderful being that would be ! Perhaps it 
 would be easy to convince a biologist that if there is a 
 world-soul, it did well not to assume such a form. To be 
 sure, an animal needs all these things ; it needs legs for 
 support and motion, and a stomach and teeth for the di- 
 gestion of its food, and eyes for the detection of prey, and 
 a central nervous system for the adaptation of its move- 
 
 *" Before the natural scientist can concede the existence of a world- 
 soul," says Du Bois-Reymond, "he must demand that there be shown to. 
 him somewhere in the world a collection of ganglionic cells and nerve-fibres 
 corresponding to the mental capacity of such a soul, imbedded in neu- 
 roglia, nourished by warm arterial blood under the proper pressure, and 
 equipped with suitable sensory nerves and organs." {Grenzen des Natur* 
 erkennens, p. 50.) 
 
238 THE COSMOLOGIGAL-THEOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 ments to the external world. But the universe has no use 
 for them. It needs nothing to support and move it, nor 
 does it need an apparatus for metabolic change, nor eyes, 
 nor ears — for outside of it there is nothing to see and hear 
 — and hence, what could it do with a brain and nerves ? Or 
 ought it, nevertheless, to have equipped itself in such a 
 manner, simply in order to assure a thorough-going, scep- 
 tical nineteenth-century scientist that the limitations of the 
 universe are not identical with those of a Laplacian mind? 
 Or would our Pyrrhonic scientist allow us to presup- 
 pose such a unified inner life, if, instead of being an im- 
 mense animal, the universe had assumed the shape of a 
 large united body, say of a sphere ? Would our view ap- 
 pear less objectionable to him if the universe formed a 
 continuous whole, instead of a system of bodies scattered 
 through immeasurable space ? Is this evident lack of unity 
 an obstacle ? Well, what gives an animal body its unity ? 
 The contiguity of all its parts ? Evidently not that, but 
 the functional unity of all its parts. Do the molecules 
 which make up the brain of an animal come in contact 
 with each other ? Perhaps they are separated by spaces 
 which are larger than their diameters. If the atoms are 
 conceived as unextended centres of force, then the spaces 
 between them are infinitely great when compared with 
 their diameters. The absence of contiguity, therefore, is 
 no obstacle to unity. Whether the parts are separated by 
 millionths of millimeters or by millions of miles is imma- 
 terial, as long as they constitute a unity of motion. And 
 as far as we can see, that is absolutely true of planets. Or 
 is the motion too simple and uniform ? Can only such 
 complicated systems of motion as animal bodies be re- 
 garded as having life and soul ? Fechner answers {Ideen zu 
 einer Schöpfungsgeschichte, p. 106) : " However complicated 
 our brains may be, and however much we may feel inclined 
 to attach to such a complexity the highest mental proper- 
 ties, the world is unspeakably more complex, since it is a 
 complication of all the complications contained in it, the 
 brain among them. Why not, therefore, attach still higher 
 mental properties to this greater complexity ? The form 
 and structure of the heavens seem simple only when we 
 
Chap. II.] PANTHEISM AND WORLD-SOUL. 239 
 
 consider the large masses and not their details and concat- 
 enation. The heavenly bodies are not crude homogeneous 
 lumps ; and the most diverse and complicated relations of 
 light and gravity obtain between them. That, however, 
 the plurality in the world is also grouped, comprehended, 
 and organized into unity does not contradict the thought 
 that it is also comprehended into a corresponding mental 
 unity, but is in harmony with the same." 
 
 Indeed, what hinders us from viewing a planet as a 
 ganglionic cell in the world-brain ? Is it too big? But 
 why should not the world-brain form larger cells than an 
 animal brain ? Or is it not. composed of the right mate- 
 rials ? The same substances are found in it, carbon, oxy- 
 gen, nitrogen, iron, phosphorus, and many others besides. 
 And these act and react on each other in a thousand differ- 
 ent ways, just as they do in the ganglion, no doubt. Nay, 
 who knows how great and evident the similarity would ap- 
 pear to us if only we were able to magnify the ganglion suf- 
 ficiently to recognize its structure and to observe the thou- 
 sand forms of movement in its interior? Nägeli suggests 
 such a thought in the treatise on the limits of natural- 
 scientific knowledge, mentioned before, in which he con- 
 stantly and strongly emphasizes the empirical limitation 
 of our knowledge in regard to the infinite, the infinitely 
 great as well as the infinitely small. " There is no limit to 
 divisibility. We must also infer from the analogy of our 
 entire experience that the combination of separate individ- 
 ual parts continues down to the infinitely smallest parts. 
 Similarly, we are obliged to presuppose an endless com- 
 bination of matter into ever larger individual groups. The 
 heavenly bodies are the molecules which combine into 
 groups of lower and higher orders, and our entire system 
 of fixed stars is but a molecular group in an infinitely 
 larger whole, which we must conceive not only as a sys- 
 tematic organism, but also as a small part of a still greater 
 whole."* 
 
 The physicist will exclaim : What idle fancies these 
 are ! Well, they do not profess to be much more. But 
 
 * Mechanisch-physiologische Theorie der Abstammungslehre (1884), p. 576. 
 
240 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 fancy, too, has its rights and its mission, if it were only to 
 remind the understanding of its limitations. That would 
 not be a superfluous task in an age in which science is so 
 inclined to rest satisfied with the finite. Let scientific in- 
 vestigation quietly pursue its journey, regardless of such 
 fancies. But let it not claim that there is nothing in the 
 world except what our physiologists and cosmologists know 
 of it. There may be a thousand things in heaven and 
 earth, as little dreamt of in our philosophy as in the days 
 of Hamlet ; nay, perhaps less dreamt of now than then. 
 Indeed, our age believes that it has almost entirely done 
 away with dreaming. "With the exception of a little super- 
 stition here and there, the whole world is enlightened. 
 Everybody believes in physics and atoms and a few world- 
 riddles, but beyond that no one troubles himself about 
 things. 
 
 Natural science might learn a lesson from its own his- 
 tory. What wonders have been discovered during the last 
 few centuries, on earth by the microscope, in the heavens 
 by the telescope ! Had the mediaeval physicist been told 
 what every school-book nowadays contains about the sys- 
 tems of the milky way and cosmic evolution, about the 
 structure of the eye and the motion of light, he would have 
 seen nothing in this but the dreams of an exalted fancy. 
 Suppose we should come into the possession of similar aids 
 for acquiring a knowledge of the inner world, or suppose 
 we were endowed with the gift of reading the soul, who 
 knows but that wonderful discoveries would be made in 
 this sphere also ? Is it the corporeal alone that has new 
 and newer wonders to unfold ? Or if our eye were opened 
 to see the inner world, would it not reveal to us a still 
 richer content, a greater nicety of articulation, and still 
 more comprehensive organization? 
 
 To be sure, we do not possess such gifts. Aided by 
 analogy we attempt to guess at the psychical meaning of 
 bodies and corporeal forms by laboriously spelling it out, 
 as it were. Only in the human world do we acquire some 
 skill in this art; of the subhuman world we get a faint 
 glimpse at least ; of the suprahuman world, however, we 
 know nothing whatever. Our knowledge does not transcend 
 
Chap, IL] PANTHEISM AND WORLD-SOUL. 241 
 
 our experience : to understand God would mean to be God. 
 But it does not seem wise to say, because our eye does not 
 reach that point, there is nothing there. Dogmatic nega- 
 tion is no less presumptuous than positive dogmatism. It 
 is meet for man to bow in reverence before the infinite 
 and unfathomable, the source and end of all life and being. 
 Buckert, the thoughtful and profound interpreter of 
 nature and of life, expresses this feeling of devout rever- 
 ence for the great mystery of being in the following lines : 
 
 Ein Vorhang hängt vorm Heiligtume, 
 
 Gestickt mit bunten Bildern 
 Von Tier und Pflanze, Stern und Blume, 
 
 Die Gottes Grösse schildern. 
 
 Die Andacht knieet anzubeten 
 
 Vor diesen reichen Falten. 
 Ein Lichtstrahl hinter den Tapeten 
 
 Verkläret die Gestalten. 
 
 Ich neige mich zum tiefsten Saume 
 
 Und küss ihn nur mit Beben, 
 Mir fällt nicht ein im kühnsten Traume, 
 
 Den Vorhang wegzuheben.* 
 
 The relation, however, of the individual mind to the 
 universal mind must be conceived as somewhat similar to 
 the relation between the different factors of an individual 
 mind and that mind itself. The separate feelings, striv- 
 ings, and thoughts are inserted into a greater combination. 
 In the same way we are to regard the entire soul-life as 
 inserted into the all-embracing combination of God's life, 
 inserted perhaps into a long chain of intermediate links. 
 This would not deprive it of its relative independence. 
 The particular impulse or feeling, the particular thought- 
 series or presentation-groups, have a certain independence 
 in our soul-life, and yet belong to the whole and act for 
 the whole. Similarly, an entire soul-life would be inserted 
 into a wider whole having a greater independence corre- 
 sponding to its richer content. The organization of the 
 corporeal world would be the expression of this relation in 
 the phenomenal world. The organic cell is a relatively- 
 
 * Collected Works, vi. p. 195. 
 
242 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOQICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 independent member of a body that is itself a dependent 
 and at the same time independent part of the earth-body, 
 with which it is inserted into still larger combinations. 
 
 That we have no immediate consciousness of this 
 articulation of our psychical life with a larger combination 
 proves nothing against its truth. The whole surveys the 
 part, but the part does not survey the whole. If a brain- 
 cell had a unified inner life and consciousness, it would 
 not be immediately aware of the psychical life of man and 
 its own relation to the same. Similarly, our intuitive 
 knowledge cannot grasp our relation to the higher forms 
 of life above us. Our abstract knowledge, however, 
 enables us to see that our psychical life is not absolutely 
 independent, but is contained in a larger system. We are 
 in a measure able to comprehend its most immediate en- 
 vironment, that is, the historical life of a people. We can 
 also comprehend the connection between our corporeal life 
 and surrounding nature which fosters and supports it. 
 But we cannot transform this nature into mind, and then 
 conceive our soul-life as contained in the psychical system, 
 or, in Kant's phraseology, we cannot articulate ourselves as 
 noumena with the inner system of noumena, or insert our- 
 selves into the mundus intelligibilis. Here our knowledge 
 has to content itself with schematic outlines. 
 
 Now as regards the objection that our view introduces 
 the false, the perverse, and the evil into the system of 
 divine life, let me simply state that no attempt at inter- 
 preting reality has yet mastered this difficulty. I shall 
 come back to the question ; meanwhile let me point out 
 the fact that here too we might pattern our conception 
 after our own inner life. Error and false ideals are apt to 
 possess us for a long time, until the soul succeeds in over- 
 coming and eradicating them, not, however, without our 
 having grown in power and experience in consequence 
 thereof. What would a thinker amount to if he had not 
 suffered from the errors of his time ? Nay, it also happens 
 that a personal conflict arises in an inner life between 
 opposite tendencies and impulses, a conflict between con- 
 trary thoughts and feelings, without our being able to 
 reconcile the discord. Is not the opposition between the 
 
€hap. II.] PANTHEISM AND RELIGION. 243 
 
 flesh and the spirit one of the most universal and deepest 
 experiences of the human race ? And so we may believe 
 that God's life is not without inner conflicts, only that in 
 his case all the contradictions and discords of reality are 
 finally resolved into a great harmony, a harmony, to be 
 sure, that no mortal ear has ever heard. Finally, let me 
 also say, the fact that we retain the past in memory gives 
 us an idea of the permanent relation existing between the 
 individual soul and the universal spirit. Immortality in 
 the sense of eternity is doubtless a necessary conception. 
 It is not conceivable that a psychical life should abso- 
 lutely perish. An event cannot become unreal by becom- 
 ing a thing of the past. If it were so, if the past were 
 absolutely and in every sense unreal, as unreal as that 
 which never was, there would evidently be no reality at 
 all ; for it cannot exist in the present, which is an unex- 
 tended point of time. Now, what is my psychical life 
 which belongs to the past ? We say that it exists in 
 memory and, as it were, continues to participate in the 
 further development, and thus it remains related to the 
 present. If a similar relation obtained between the in- 
 dividual life and the universal mind, it would mean that 
 the individual life has permanent existence and activity 
 even after death. It would continue as a permanent ele- 
 ment in the divine life and consciousness. And nothing 
 would hinder us from thinking that it also retains its rela- 
 tive independence and the unity of its consciousness with- 
 in the whole. Fechner develops such thoughts at length 
 in the second volume of his Zend-Avesta as well as in his 
 Büchlein vom Zehen nach dem Tode (3d ed. 1887). I simply 
 refer to them here. 
 
 9. The Relation of the Pantheistic Notion of God to Religion. 
 
 The attempt has been made in the preceding section to 
 determine the relation of the pantheistic view of the world 
 to the natural-scientific conception. I shall now consider 
 its relation to religion. Is pantheism compatible with re- 
 ligion ; I mean with the possession of an inner religious 
 disposition, not with any particular system of dogmatics or 
 church doctrine ? 
 
244 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 Before we can answer the question we must come to 
 some agreement concerning the nature of religion. Hence, 
 a word in reference to this point. Keligion is not knowl- 
 edge ; we have a knowledge of religion, history of religion, 
 and philosophy of religion, but that is not religion. Nor is 
 religion action ; there are acts in which religion expresses 
 itself, acts of worship, but they are not religion. The 
 essence of religion consists in a peculiar disposition of the 
 heart. Two phases, two habitual emotions, are distin- 
 guished in it. I call them humility and trust, fear of God 
 and trust in God. 
 
 Humility is the feeling of insignificance in the presence 
 of the sublime, the feeling of finitude in the presence of the 
 infinite. Man is placed in the midst of infinity, surrounded 
 by it on all sides and upheld by it. The infinity of space 
 and of objects spreads out around him, he but a vanishing 
 point in it. Similarly, endless time extends before him 
 and behind him into an eternity. What is man but an ex- 
 istent nothing in the immeasurable All ? And he has re- 
 ligion because he becomes conscious of his insignificance. 
 Animals have no religion because they do not rise to a 
 consciousness of themselves and their relation to reality ; 
 they live without becoming wholly conscious of themselves. 
 In man the feeling of his own insignificance, nothingness, 
 and transitoriness arises with his self-consciousness and his 
 consciousness of the world. Emerging from darkness into 
 the light of the sun, he lives a moment, subject to the 
 thousand accidents of nature, and then death hurls him back 
 again into the night of forgetfulness. Such reflections occur 
 again and again in every religious fancy. Nowhere is the 
 thought expressed with so many variations or with such 
 deep feeling as in the poetry of the Old Testament. Nor is 
 it wanting among the Greeks. We find it often in Homer 
 and the tragic poets : Like the leaves of the forest, so are 
 the generations of man. 
 
 This is one phase of the religious temperament. 
 Schleiermacher calls it the feeling of absolute dependence. 
 
 Its other side is trust, the assurance that the infinite is 
 not merely the immense and the omnipotent, but also the 
 all-good, that I may acknowledge it and safely entrust to it 
 
Chap. II.] PANTHEISM AND RELIGION. 245 
 
 myself and all tliat is near and dear to me. Herein con- 
 sists the real essence of religious faith. Faith in religion 
 does not mean knowledge that is less certain or merely 
 conjectural, a sense in which we often use the term. Kelig- 
 ious faith is the immediate certainty of the heart that the 
 real is derived from the good, that everything that happens 
 is meant for the best, for my best. This faith does not 
 rest upon theoretical investigations and proofs, it does not 
 spring from the understanding, but from the will. So the 
 Apostle expresses it : " Now faith is the substance of things 
 hoped for, the evidence of things not seen ;" hence a prac- 
 tical trust that depends, not upon sight and knowledge, but 
 upon hope and will. 
 
 We use the word in the same sense in other connections. 
 A mother has faith in her child. Her son pursues many 
 a path and many a false path ; others lose confidence in 
 him ; he will amount to nothing, they say. His mother, 
 however, clings to the belief : he will not be lost in the end. 
 She can give no reasons for her trust, she cannot prove it 
 to the doubter, perchance because she has a deeper 
 psychological insight into his nature ; she believes not 
 with the understanding, but with the heart ; her life hangs 
 on her faith, and so she cannot give it up. So, too, a man 
 has faith in his nation. He sees much of which he does 
 not approve, injustice and falsehood and hypocrisy, wan- 
 ton arrogance and coarse vulgarity even among such as 
 imagine themselves to be superior to the rabble. Yet he 
 does not lose his faith ; that is not the true essence of my 
 people, he says, but an excrescence really foreign to them. 
 At bottom they are really honest and sound, truthful and 
 true ; they will cast off what is mean and offensive. He 
 can prove it neither by statistics nor by history ; he, too, 
 believes, not with the understanding, but with the heart, 
 with his whole being and will. Without this faith he would 
 despair of himself, of his work, of his life ; he could not 
 endure a life, himself the only honest soul among such re- 
 pulsive hypocrites ! and so he believes in his country. 
 
 Religious faith belongs to the same class. It, too, has 
 its root, not in the understanding, but in man's innermost 
 essence and will. Generally speaking, it consists in the 
 
246 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 trust that the reality of which I am a part is good and has 
 a rational meaning, which I may unravel ; that the world 
 and destiny are not a lot of blind and aimless accidents, 
 but that they are determined by an idea of the good, by 
 God, the all-real and all-good being. This trust first ap- 
 pears in a crude form in the most primitive idol-worship ; 
 it is the trust that there are powers of good in or beyond 
 reality that are able to ward off the evil and to promote 
 what is favorable and wholesome. It assumes a more per- 
 fect form in the theistic belief held by great historical 
 peoples ; it is the gods, spiritual and good beings, who hold 
 the course of the world and the fate of man in their hands 
 and protect the right and good with an irresistible power. 
 This trust reaches its final form in the belief that there ia 
 an all-governing Providence without whose will nothing 
 happens, by whose will everything that happens makes for 
 the good. First of all, I have faith in my own life and its 
 immediate surroundings; I believe that nothing can befall 
 me that is not meant for the best; that misfortune and 
 sorrow are not intended to destroy me, but are destined 
 to carry me safely through the school of chastisement and 
 probation. This faith necessarily comes to embrace wider 
 circles. My country, too, experiences both good and bad 
 fortune ; but here, also, says faith, want and defeat are not 
 intended as evils, but as blessings. It is only by misfor- 
 tune that all the virtues and powers of a nation are un- 
 folded, while defeat makes it aware of its own real nature. 
 The same is true of humanity ; ultimately all its fortunes 
 make for the great goal, the realization of its divine destiny. 
 In the words of Christian faith, the kingdom of God is the 
 goal ; its realization forms the essential content of the his- 
 tory of the world. Hence, expressed in the most general 
 way, the belief in God amounts to this: Not only is it pos- 
 sible for humanity to realize its highest purposes in the 
 world, but, more than that, the world is so predisposed as 
 to realize them ; not a blind and external, but an inner 
 teleotogical, necessity prevails in it ; the natural order of 
 the world is at bottom a moral order. Atheism, however, 
 would be the denial, not of the demonstrability, but of the 
 legitimacy, of such a faith ; it would be the dogmatic asser- 
 
Chap. IL] PANTHEISM AND RELIGION. 247 
 
 tion : Tliere is no moral, but only a natural, order of the 
 world. 
 
 This faith is not a theoretical truth ; it is not the result 
 of teleological arguments drawn from history or the life of 
 the individual ; it is not based on reasons at all, but on 
 practical needs ; it makes life, and particularly suffering, 
 endurable. The beast suffers whatever befalls it dumbly 
 and without reflection ; man, who reflects on objects and 
 life, emancipates himself from the pressure of pain and the 
 greater pressure of fear, by reading a meaning into his lot. 
 He would not be able to endure life if he were obliged to 
 regard the world as an enormous machine, and himself as 
 the shuttlecock of blind forces. 
 
 That this faith cannot be proved but only believed, 
 Christianity does not doubt. The Holy Scriptures tell us 
 in a hundred places : God's ways are not our ways, his 
 counsels are past finding out. That is, if we had had the 
 making of fate and the world, were we ever so clear-sighted 
 and well disposed, we should have made a hundred things 
 otherwise than they are. How often a blind occurrence in 
 nature seems to us to bring ruin into our lives, and to 
 cross our highest purposes in the most indifferent manner ! 
 Quite frequently the course of history seems to favor the 
 wrong. In many cases we ourselves judge differently 
 afterwards ; we discover that what originally seemed an evil 
 proves in the end to be a blessing. Our faith is strength- 
 ened by such experiences ; it loves to remember them 
 in order to overcome the impressions made by our present 
 misery. But we do not believe that a satisfactory theoreti- 
 cal proof can be constructed out of them. The contrary 
 experience, that want and wretchedness also embitter and 
 devastate our inner life, and that apparent blessings bring 
 nations as well as individuals to irreparable ruin, would be 
 cited as the eternal counter-proof against all attempts at a 
 theodicy aspiring to the dignity of an established theory. 
 
 Faith, however, will not be shaken. Before such state- 
 ments as these it falls back upon the limitations of human 
 knowledge : God's thoughts are higher than our thoughts. 
 The believer is, at all events, certain of one fact : Everything 
 is meant for the best of those who love God. Nor does this 
 
248 THE C08M0L0GICAL-THE0L0GICÄL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 trust fail him in the wreck of all human hopes. The 
 understanding looks on, a helpless spectator, unable to 
 comprehend it all. It offers no contradictions, it recog- 
 nizes the uncertainty of every judgment concerning what 
 is good or bad for a human being or a nation. It forbears 
 to judge, doubts, and is silent. Faith, however, confidently 
 pursues its journey. It needs no proof, it is impervious to 
 doubt, it is grounded in the deepest conviction of the be- 
 liever : Surely the world is so constituted as to enable me 
 and everything that is nearest and dearest to me to exist 
 in it. 
 
 Such in general is the content of religious faith. It 
 is never realized in this abstract form, but only in concrete 
 embodiments. Faith is comprehensible and transmissible 
 only when expressed in the intuitive ideas and symbols 
 of historical religions, in the sensuous-suprasensuous 
 pictures of a supramundane world painted by fancy. Nay, 
 it is only then that it becomes wholly believable. And, 
 above all, it is in this way rendered accessible to art and 
 poetry, the real exponents of the inexpressible and tran- 
 scendent. 
 
 Indeed, faith is thereby also opened to reflective thought. 
 The attempt to comprehend the nature of the supramun- 
 dane world and its relation to us gives rise to a doctrine of 
 faith. Dogmas and creeds arise as soon as a community 
 having a common belief formulates its articles of faith in 
 rules that are binding. This is what happened to the re- 
 ligion of Jesus. It was taken up by the philosophizing 
 Hellenistic world, and assumed a form which naturally led 
 to the error that Christianity is essentially a doctrine pos- 
 sessing theoretical worth, like a system of philosophy, that 
 it can and must be apprehended by the intellect. 
 
 This, however, is not the real import of Christianity. 
 The church creed does not in its most general formulae, 
 the three articles, express an intellectual judgment, but a 
 practical certainty that unites the entire community of 
 Christ. In the first article they confess their faith in 
 God the Father, Creator of heaven and earth ; which 
 does not really mean that they have theoretical knowledge 
 based on scientific investigation, but an immediate cer- 
 
Chap. IL] PANTHEISM AND BELIGION. 249 
 
 tainty that the world is not the work of chance or, as some 
 believe, of the devil, but that it comes from God and re- 
 turns to God, the all-good One. And by confessing, in the 
 second article, its faith in Jesus Christ the Son of God, 
 born of the Virgin Mary, Christianity does not mean to 
 imply that it possesses reliable information concerning a 
 historical fact or, what is more, concerning a physical 
 anomaly, but expresses its immediate certainty that, in 
 Jesus, God has revealed himself in the flesh, that in him 
 the almighty and all-good being has manifested his es- 
 sence in so far as this can be manifested in a son of 
 man. A man who asks nothing for himself, who does all 
 the good he can to everybody, without expecting thanks, 
 who sutlers the bitterest and most ignominious fate without 
 hating and cursing his persecutors — such a man is God, 
 God in human form. " To be good," says Savonarola, 
 " means to do good and to suffer evil and to persevere in 
 this to the very end." The third article likewise expresses 
 a practical certainty, the certainty that humanity is called 
 to the kingdom of God, to the eternal communion of the 
 saints, and to life everlasting, and that the spirit of God 
 will live and act in all true disciples united in Christ, as 
 long as human hearts beat on earth. 
 
 Hence the faith of Christianity is not a philosophical 
 system, not a theological dogma or a last relic of ancient 
 superstition, but an immediate and living certainty, the 
 heart's belief in the good and its significance for reality. 
 Such a faith is as possible to-day as in the times of 
 Luther and Augustine, as when the disciples saw Jesus 
 in the flesh. Did the Christian faith consist in all kinds of 
 opinions and dogmas, those would be in the right who long 
 ago pronounced it dead. Dogmas and opinions are not of 
 such long life. If Christianity consisted in the literal ac- 
 ceptance of the assertion that the world was created out of 
 nothing five thousand years or so ago, that the first human 
 beings were called Adam and Eve, that the former was 
 made of a lump of clay, the latter out of Adam's rib, that 
 they lived in a beautiful garden in which God himself took 
 an occasional evening stroll, until one fine day they were 
 persuaded by a serpent to eat of the fruit of a particular 
 
250 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 apple-tree, and that for this act they were driven out of 
 paradise by an angry God, and that they and all their de- 
 scendants were visited with suffering and death ; — if Chris- 
 tianity consisted in regarding these and similar things as 
 true — the stories, for example, which are told of Christ's 
 fatherless birth, or the miraculous change of water into 
 wine, or the feeding of five thousand men with a few loaves 
 of bread — or if it consisted in the acceptance of the dogmas 
 of the two natures or the three persons in one, or of the 
 dogma that God the Father had to cause the death of God 
 the Son in order to obtain satisfaction for Adam's sin, or 
 in the assertion that a certain collection of writings is not 
 the work of believing and pious human minds, but that 
 God himself composed them by some unknown process 
 called inspiration, and that each line of these writings must 
 therefore be taken as literal and holy truth ; — if the Chris- 
 tian belief consisted in accepting all this, then of course it 
 would be impossible for a liberal-minded and thinking man 
 of to-day to accept it. But that is neither the faith of 
 Christianity nor the religion of Jesus. And even if the 
 guardians of all the creeds in existence should assert that 
 this is the Christian faith, and that whoever does not hold 
 it has no share in Christ and in salvation, that does not 
 make the statement true. No one has ever been saved by 
 believing such things. On the contrary, by demanding a 
 belief in the opinions of men the church has driven many 
 an honest man from its fold, and is continuing to do so 
 day after day. If I am not allowed to take the dogma, 
 Jesus is the Son of God, as an expression of religious fancy, 
 if I must mean by it that I have been convinced by his- 
 torical evidence that his birth occurred otherwise than 
 that of ordinary human beings, then, instead of my frank 
 and joyful avowal of the unique greatness of this man, I 
 am forced to burden my conscience and to subscribe to a 
 negative proposition of whose meaning no one can form a 
 positive idea- Then the creed becomes a formula that 
 really signifies nothing but a willingness on the part of the 
 confessor to subject himself and his intellect to the abso- 
 lute control of the church. 
 
 But if I am allowed to say what I mean and to believe 
 
Chap. II.] PANTHEISM AND RELIGION. 251 
 
 what I can understand and conceive, then, unmindful of 
 the ridicule of the scoffer and the hatred of the guardian 
 of literalism, I may, even in our days, confess to a belief in 
 God who has revealed himself in Jesus. The life and 
 death of Jesus make plain to me the meaning of life, the 
 meaning of all things in general ; but that which enables 
 me to live and shows me the import of life I call God and 
 the manifestation of God. The most upright, truthful, and 
 liberal-minded man may subscribe to all that to-day as 
 openly as ever before. But if we crowd him and demand 
 that he believe in all the things mentioned above — in the 
 fatherless birth of Jesus and the immaculate conception of 
 his mother, or in the resurrection and ascension of his dead 
 and buried body, in the "with, under, and by" of his 
 " real " body and blood in the bread and wine, — then he will 
 turn away, saying : Spare me ; we do not understand each 
 other. But, if you must argue the matter, go to Byzan- 
 tians and Alexandrians.* 
 
 We now return to our question : Is such a faith com- 
 patible with the above-mentioned monistic notion concern- 
 ing the constitution of reality ? It seems to me, by all 
 means. Perhaps a practical belief in the good is incom- 
 patible with no cosmology. At any rate, it is an undeni- 
 able fact that even men who reckon themselves among the 
 materialists in metaphysics profess an absolute faith in the 
 future of the human race and its progress towards justice 
 and truth. In order to reconcile this faith with their 
 metaphysics, they would be obliged to say : Atoms were 
 accidentally formed and arranged in such a way as to real- 
 
 * I should like to call the reader's attention to the excellent work of a 
 Dutch theologian : Rauwenhoff, Religionsphilosophie (tr. into German by 
 Hanne, 1889). The view concerning the nature of religion, which I have 
 hinted at in the above, essentially agrees with Rauwenhoff's more elaborate 
 exposition of the subject. As the chief constituent of faith, he designates 
 the trust that the world is so arranged as to enable the moral law to govern 
 it. Such a belief presupposes a teleological conception of the world. 
 Faith, however, becomes religion only when poetic fancy embodies it in 
 images and symbols. W. Bender's work, Das Wesen der Religion und die 
 Grundgesetze der Kirchenbildung (1886), contains similar thoughts : Reli- 
 gion is faith in the realization of the ideal of life ; the impulse to self-pre- 
 servation universally and necessarily produces faith as an ideal remedy 
 against the evils and obstacles of the world. 
 
252 THE COSMOLOGICAL-TBEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 ize tlie highest good with mechanical necessity ; which 
 would indeed be a somewhat remarkable effect. We may 
 say, however, that such a faith is more compatible with a 
 philosophy that views reality as the manifestation of a uni- 
 versal life unfolding itself with inner teleological necessity. 
 Pantheism is not a religion, but a cosmological hypothesis 
 which aims to reflect the total impression produced in the 
 thinking man by reality. But we may declare, not without 
 justice, that the faith which sees the All-Good in the All-Real 
 finds in the hypothesis a notion that meets it half way. 
 
 It is true, theological critics of philosophy are usually 
 of a different opinion. They incline to the view that only 
 one notion of the universe is compatible with religion — the 
 theistic conception, namely, which conceives God as a being 
 separate from the world. For them pantheism is not less 
 irreligious than atomism. "What pantheism calls God, 
 they hold, is not God, but nature or the All ; and Spinoza's 
 formula, Deus sive natura, is simply a misuse of the term 
 God. God is endowed with personality ; not so nature or 
 the All. This difference, it is held, gives us a fixed line of 
 demarcation : Every philosophy that does not assume God 
 to be a personal being is irreligious. 
 
 Here, too, it will be well to begin our discussion with 
 the Socratic preliminary question : What does personality 
 mean ? We assign it first of all to human beings, do we 
 not ? Animals and lifeless objects are without personality ; 
 it is the form peculiar to human life. We may define it as 
 self-conscious and rational thought and volition. 
 
 The question would then be : Has the inner life of the 
 universal being the same form ? Our answer is : We cannot 
 presume to give an exhaustive definition of the inner life 
 of the all-real God. The undertaking would be about as 
 hopeless as the attempt of a worm to give definitions of 
 the form and content of the human mind. But not without 
 reason shall we say : The difference between human and 
 divine inner life must indeed be great and thorough-going, 
 so great that there can be no homogeneity at any point. 
 Neither the volition nor the thought of the All-One, if we are 
 at all permitted to speak of his volition and thought, can 
 be grasped by us. 
 
Chap. IL] PANTHEISM AND RELIGION. 253 
 
 First, as regards willing we may say that in man it 
 owes its origin to such impulses and desires as are suited 
 to the state of a being that has limitations and needs. 
 The rational will is nothing but a species of self-regulation 
 of impulses by reason. We cannot ascribe such functions 
 to God. He has no needs, hence no desires and no will, in 
 the human sense. Besides, there are no objects outside of 
 him for him to act on. Theologians express this idea by 
 attributing all-sufficiency to God. Nor can action like hu- 
 man action be attributed to him. Theologians ascribe 
 omnipotence to him as an acting being. Well, the action 
 of an almighty being differs from ours not merely in ex- 
 tent, but in kind also. The distinction between design and 
 execution, ends and means, is peculiar to our activity. We 
 first form an idea of something that does not yet exist, then 
 we prevail upon the objects, which exist independently of 
 us, to yield to our purposes, outwitting them, as it were. In 
 God, volition and execution must coincide ; he thinks, and 
 the act takes place : reality is his volitional and actual 
 thought, or, in Spinoza's words, the explication of his 
 actuosa essentia. The same is true of the moral qualities of 
 man : they cannot be applied to God. We cannot speak 
 of duties and virtues in his case. Self-control, temper- 
 ance, courage, presuppose desire and fear ; justice and 
 benevolence presuppose self-abnegation and sacrifice of 
 individual desires. God must become a man in order to 
 be merciful and benevolent like a man. 
 
 The same remark may be made of the intellectual side. 
 Our knowledge proceeds from our senses. We construct 
 concepts out of our percepts ; their significance consists in 
 the fact that they conceive intuitions. We have no other 
 kind of knowledge, even of our own essence. And another 
 feature is essential to our thinking : the opposition be- 
 tween ego and non-ego. Our self-consciousness is deter- 
 mined by the opposition between the ego and the external 
 world. None of these peculiarities belongs to the All-One. 
 The theologians attribute omniscience to God. It has not 
 escaped them that omniscience differs from our knowledge 
 not merely in extent, but also in kind : God's thinking, says 
 scholastic philosophy, is not discursive and conceptual, 
 
254 THE COSMOLOGIGAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 but intuitive ; yet not intuitive like our intuitive knowledge, 
 which is determined by space and time ; God contemplates 
 all things at a glance, the past and the future as well as 
 the present. It is evident, we can form no conception of 
 such knowledge or consciousness ; when the limitations are 
 removed from human knowledge it loses its definiteness. 
 An intuitive understanding is an empty form which we are 
 not able to fill in. 
 
 If, then, it is impossible to attribute to God the form of 
 human psychical life, it will not be possible to ascribe per- 
 sonality to him in the sense in which we use the term. 
 Only when we rob the concept of all human limitations, 
 does it become somewhat less objectionable ; but by doing 
 that we at the same time deprive it of all content and 
 definiteness. 
 
 This would be generally conceded were it not for the 
 apprehension that God might lose somewhat in dignity if 
 personality were denied to him. In that case he would 
 have to be called an impersonal being, which would place 
 him among sub-human beings. 
 
 But such fears are groundless. Pantheism, as we 
 understand it, has no intention of depriving God of any- 
 thing or of denying him anything but human limitations. 
 It will not permit us to define God by the concept of per- 
 sonality, simply because the notion is too narrow for the 
 infinite fulness and depth of his being. Still, in order to 
 remove the apprehension, we might call God a supra- 
 personal being, not intending thereby to define his essence, 
 but to indicate that God's nature is above the human mind, 
 not below it. And pantheism might add that it finds no 
 fault with any one for calling God a personal being in this 
 sense. Insomuch as the human mind is the highest and 
 most important thing that we know, we can form an idea 
 of God only by intensifying human attributes. When art 
 undertakes to represent God, it pictures him with the 
 body of a man, not in the belief that God really possesses 
 the corporeal form of a man, but because the noble human 
 countenance is for us the highest and most important bodily 
 form. In the same sense we may also attribute to God 
 the mental form which we revere in the best and greatest 
 
Chap. II,] PANTHEISM AND RELIGION. 255 
 
 men. When we speak of his holiness, wisdom, goodness, 
 and blessedness, we use symbolical expressions that do 
 not define his essence as they define the essence of a man ; 
 we simply indicate the direction which we must take in 
 order to approach his nature. 
 
 That is the possible and inevitable anthropomorphism of all 
 religions. "We know no other mind than the earthly and 
 human mind ; hence we represent God as having it, not 
 because he is really like our picture of him, but because 
 our ideas do not transcend our experience. And for that 
 reason this anthropomorphism necessarily goes a step far- 
 ther. Each nation endows God with the attributes which 
 agree with its notions of goodness and beauty, dignity and 
 holiness. It is as Goethe says : 
 
 Dass jeglicher das Beste, was er kennt, 
 Er Gott, ja seinen Gott benennt, 
 Ihm Himmel und Erden übergiebt, 
 Ihn fürchtet und womöglich liebt. 
 
 In such a symbolical anthropomorphism philosophical re- 
 flection and religious faith approach each other. Knowledge 
 makes no protest. Its own presuppositions carry it to the 
 notion of the All-One, but it cannot determine its content. 
 Hence it is left to the poetical spirit of the race or to the 
 religious genius to embody this concept in intelligible ideas 
 and images. On the other hand, religious faith is far from 
 regarding its symbols as scientific definitions. They are 
 something infinitely higher and more significant than scien- 
 tific concepts and formulae, so much higher as God is higher 
 than human thought and understanding. Discord arises be- 
 tween philosophy and religion, only when philosophy seeks 
 to exclude faith, maintaining that the definitions of science 
 comprehend and exhaust reality, and that such symbols 
 are childish dreams which either have no value whatever 
 or have value simply for the masses who cannot think in 
 concepts. Or the clash occurs when a religion, or rather 
 a church community, palms off its symbols as definitions, 
 and its articles of faith as scientifically-demonstrable truths, 
 and then demands that all thinkers fall into the same con- 
 
256 THE COSMOLOGIGAL-THEOLOOIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 fusion under penalty of being branded as heretics or athe- 
 ists. In both cases a deadly enmity ensues. The under- 
 standing rebels against a faith that pretends to be the 
 only valid science. The heart and fancy rebel against a 
 philosophy that leaves no room for faith and poetry. A 
 faith, however, that desires to be nothing but a faith, and 
 a philosophy that is conscious of the limitations of human 
 knowledge, can exist side by side. It is natural that the 
 individual should, according to his individual disposition 
 and education, incline to the one or to the other of these ; 
 just as he may have greater talents and a greater interest 
 for research and science than for art and poetry, or vice 
 versa. But he can and should appreciate and respect both 
 phases of mental life. That is the view for which Kant 
 paved the way during the last great epoch in history. 
 Schleiermacher introduced it into theology. I shall return 
 to the subject later on, but I cannot deny myself the 
 pleasure of quoting in this place a passage from the Reden 
 über die Religion. Schleiermacher discusses the possibility 
 of reconciling religious faith with a philosophical panthe- 
 ism. He saj^s : If the pantheist refuses to conceive the 
 godhead as a person, this may be due "to the humble 
 consciousness on his part of the limitations of all personal 
 consciousness, and in particular of the consciousness de- 
 pendent on personality." Whether any one will conceive 
 the godhead as a personality or not depends essentially on 
 the direction of his fancy. And finally, he holds, the two 
 conceptions are not so far apart after all, " only we should 
 not read death (the inert dead being) into the one, but 
 should do all we can to remove the limitations from the 
 other." But whoever, he adds, insists on regarding piety 
 as dependent on one's acceptance of the notion of God's 
 personality does not know very much about piety. In- 
 deed, such a one must be unacquainted with the profound- 
 est works of the most zealous defenders of his own faith. 
 Schleier macher is evidently thinking of the mystics. 
 
 The notion common to controversies on theism and pan- 
 theism are transcendency and immanency. Theism, it is said, 
 teaches the transcendency, pantheism the immanency, of 
 God in the world. Let me apply these terms to the view 
 
Chap. II.] PANTHEISM AND RELIGION 257 
 
 set forth above and say : Immanency and transcendency 
 do not exclude each other. Theism cannot exclude the 
 immanency of God in the world. If God is the creator 
 and preserver of all things, it is his power in the things 
 which gives them their reality at every moment of time. 
 On the other hand, philosophical pantheism does not ex- 
 clude transcendency ; God and nature do not absolutely co- 
 incide. This is true as far as their quantity is concerned. 
 The nature which we see is finite, God is infinite ; it is 
 merged in him, but he is not merged in nature. The world 
 known to our cosmology is but a drop in the ocean of 
 reality. The same statements may be made of his quality. 
 The essence of things as it is known to us is not absolutely 
 different from God's, but God's essence itself is infinite ; it 
 is not exhausted by the qualities of reality which we be- 
 hold : by mind and body, extension and thought, or how- 
 ever we may designate the most general qualities of ex- 
 istence. Hence God is transcendent in so far as his infin- 
 ite nature infinitely transcends the reality known to us. 
 It is idolatry to identify God's essence with the nature 
 known to us and with the essence of creatures. As a rule, 
 however, such idolatry is less common to pantheism than 
 to theism, which in defining God's essence by human attri- 
 butes not seldom shows a decided tendency to a false 
 immanency. 
 
 I hear an adherent of the old orthodoxy exclaim : All 
 that sounds very well and looks simple, and it seems a 
 plausible thing to say ; but there is something wrong some- 
 where. What the religious disposition desires is a God with 
 whom it can come into a personal relation. Such a union is 
 possible if God exists outside of and above the world as a 
 personal individuality ; it is not possible if he is such an 
 all-one or all-real being. And what the religious soul de- 
 mands besides is a God who sympathizes with his creat- 
 ures and hears their prayers, a God who takes pity on 
 their misery and is ready to help them in the hour of 
 need. A God who stands above the course of nature as a 
 ruler of the universe can do such things. Spinoza's sub- 
 stance can answer no prayers and perform no miracles. 
 
 In answer to the first point, we must repeat what has 
 
258 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 just been said in our discussion of the question whether 
 God is a personal being or not. A personal relation is, 
 first of all, a relation such as exists between man and man, 
 a relation making possible a mutual exchange of thoughts, 
 feelings, and actions. Even the boldest anthropomorphism 
 will pause before assuming that the same relation obtains 
 between man and God. Or has any one the courage to 
 maintain that the same relation exists here as between 
 parents and children, friends and neighbors ? 
 
 We may, however, without doing violence to the usage 
 of language employ the term in a wider sense. We should 
 call the relation between a man and his nation a personal 
 rather than an impersonal one. At any rate, it is a relation 
 that is of the utmost importance to his way of feeling and 
 thinking, to his actions and life. He receives from it the 
 strongest impulses. Like a hero he labors and battles for 
 his country. In the belief that his conduct will redound 
 to the glory and advancement of his country, the political 
 martyr is ever willing to suffer disgrace and persecution. 
 The poet expects appreciation and sympathy from his peo- 
 ple, and he knows and feels it when his words have touched 
 their hearts. Now in a similar though much vaguer sense 
 we may characterize the relation of the pious man to God 
 as a personal one. He orders his life for the glory of God ; 
 undoubtedly, for does not every good deed and every pure 
 and beautiful life redound to the glory of God ? The cru- 
 sader regarded himself as God's warrior, the missionary as 
 a fellow-craft in the temple of his kingdom. He is certain 
 of God's approval ; why should he not be, and why should 
 he not find strength and consolation in the belief ? 
 
 But the God of pantheism has no feelings ; how can we 
 attribute feelings of satisfaction to the feelingless All- 
 One ? Well, is the All-One, or — since there may be some 
 who object to pantheism on account of its indifference to 
 the gender of the deity — is he, the All-One, is God neces- 
 sarily an unfeeling being according to this conception ? I 
 do not believe that a pantheistic philosophy is bound to 
 concede it. If God is reality in the form of a unified self- 
 existent inner life, then whatever occurs at any point of 
 reality will be of importance to him as an element of his 
 
Chap. IL] PANTHEISM AND RELIGION. 259 
 
 being. To be sure, the theory will guard against ascribing 
 human feeling to God, but it will be equally careful not to 
 deny him any qualities. Spinoza speaks of the love and 
 blessedness of God, not in the belief that the pathological 
 states peculiar to man are found in God also, but meaning 
 that whatever is found in the individual being must pre- 
 exist in germ in the being of the infinite, from which it 
 springs. " He that planted the ear, shall he not hear ; he 
 that formed the eye, shall he not see ? " We might like- 
 wise say in this connection : He that made feeling, shall 
 he not feel ? But as seeing and hearing are not used in 
 -fcheir real sense in the former case, so feeling is not used 
 in the real sense of the term in the latter. Hence the ex- 
 pressions are not meaningless, they are designations that 
 have value in so far as they symbolize the inconceivable 
 and unspeakable. That is what Scripture means : God 
 dwelleth in light which no one can approach unto. Natural 
 theology trusted in its ability to conceive God with its 
 thought. It spoke of God almost as one speaks of a col- 
 league whose thoughts one perfectly understands and exam- 
 ines. The relation of the pious man to God does not rest 
 on concepts, but on faith. 
 
 But, some one asks, how about the efficacy of prayer 
 and the performance of miracles ? This brings us to the 
 very root of religion. In the hour of need, the heavy-laden 
 heart craves a savior who may ward off the ills with which 
 nature threatens us ; that can be done only by a God who 
 stands above the natural course of events, not by one who 
 manifests himself in them. 
 
 I believe Spinoza would have answered such objections 
 about as follows. It is true, he might say, there- are yearn- 
 ings, the satisfaction of which by God my philosophy does 
 not encourage you to expect. I do not dare to think, he 
 might go on, that changes can be produced in the natural 
 course of events by the expression of a wish. Prayer as 
 an inner state of the soul may have effects on the soul-life, 
 but I do not believe that it can deflect a streak of lightning 
 or a bullet from its path, or that it can draw fire from 
 heaven as was done by the prayer of Elijah. 
 
 Indeed, the question here is not concerning the evalua- 
 
260 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 tion and interpretation of facts, but concerning the exist- 
 ence of facts : Are prayers invariably or even occasionally 
 efficacious in producing changes in the natural course of 
 events ? No decision can be rendered for or against the 
 efficacy of prayer on a priori grounds. Consequently the 
 question must be decided by experience, say by experi- 
 ment, something like the one forced upon the priest of 
 Baal by the prophet Elijah, or perhaps by a statistical pro- 
 cedure. We might, let us say, consider questions like the 
 following: Does a constant relation obtain between the 
 amount of damage done by thunder-storms and the ten- 
 dency to ward it off by the transcendental method, which 
 certainly differs for different localities? Are large cities 
 afflicted offener than the lowlands ? Or can we detect any 
 differences in the frequency of other occurrences, say of 
 hail-storms, animal epidemics, and the like, according as 
 the owners of such fields and stock pray or do not pray ? 
 Or has the average term of life decreased since public and 
 private prayer for protection against sickness and death, 
 pestilence and famine, has become less frequent? I do not 
 believe that the demand for such a mode of proof would 
 meet with favor anywhere. Indeed, the mere mention of 
 such a possibility may be regarded by many as sacrilegious, 
 a sign that faith in prayer is not based on investigation 
 and observation, but precedes them, and that faith is re- 
 solved to avoid all attempts at empirical verification. 
 
 Besides, there can be hardly a doubt that this belief is 
 rapidly declining. Originally it prevailed universally ; it 
 is perhaps one of the oldest and most universal dogmas of 
 the human race that the utterance of certain formulae and 
 the performance of certain acts are means of warding off 
 evils and of conciliating the gods. It has waned pro- 
 portionately to the increase of our knowledge of things. 
 That it is losing ground is noticeable in the European 
 world since the beginning of modern natural-scientific re- 
 search. In the measure in which meteorology explained 
 atmospheric occurrences and physiology and pathology 
 laid bare the processes of bodily life, natural preservatives 
 or remedies took the place of supranatural ones. We can- 
 not prove absolutely that the natural causal nexus is with- 
 
Chap. II.] PANTHEISM AND RELIGION. 261 
 
 out exceptions and breaks, but we are getting more and 
 more accustomed to presuppose it. 
 
 And, let us say in conclusion, we surely have no reason 
 to be dissatisfied with this state of affairs. Though the in- 
 exorableness of nature may be a hardship in particular 
 cases, yet we could not, on the whole, desire uniformity to 
 give way to caprice. If the wish of a man expressed in 
 prayer could move mountains and cause the sun to stand 
 still or make rain and sunshine, life and death, we should 
 not gain anything by that. The world invites us to seek 
 after knowledge and to work, and these functions suit our 
 nature. We could fearlessly entrust so great a power over 
 things only to a will that is in full accord with God's. 
 Such a will, however, desires nothing except what God 
 desires, and that certainly happens as it is. 
 
 It is obvious that Christianity does not encourage the 
 tendency of the natural man to bring about by supranat- 
 ural means results in the sensible world which he cannot 
 attain by natural means. Christianity consists essentially 
 in withdrawing the heart from the worldly goods which the 
 natural man craves, and in turning it to the heavenly and 
 eternal possessions. Jesus promises his disciples, not 
 wordly happiness and welfare, but peace with God and 
 peace in God. And this is what they pray for. The desire 
 for inner spiritual goods marks the death of the old magic 
 prayer which originally sprang from the covetousness and 
 helplessness of the sensuous man. The presupposition of 
 the prayer is : Your heavenly father knows what you need ; 
 and its concluding sentence is : Not my will, but thy will be 
 done. Its aim is not to conquer nature by supranatural 
 means, but to conquer the human heart, which, wavering 
 between defiance and despondency, is not able to yield and 
 adapt itself to its fate.* 
 
 But, another objection is heard : By identifying God and 
 
 * With impassioned eloquence Fichte attacks the attempt to degrade 
 the Christian religion into a necromantic idol-worship in his Appellation an 
 das Publikum, written during the atheism-controversy . ' ' The system 
 which expects happiness from an all-powerful being is a system of idolatry 
 and idol-worship, and as old as human corruption." The Christian religion, 
 he says, is strenuously opposed to this view; it absolutely refuses to promise 
 the sensuous man worldly happiness. 
 
262 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 reality, pantheism destroys the quality of God which 
 alone makes him God : absolute goodness and holiness. 
 I cannot and ought not to worship and believe in the em- 
 pirical existence before me. The world as it exists is by 
 no means adorable. The base and the evil have as much 
 reality in them as has the good. Pantheism effaces the 
 distinction between the good and the bad ; it regards all 
 existence as divine, as a manifestation of the All- One, and 
 thereby destroys the notion of God. 
 
 Let me reply that this is a mistake. Pantheism by no 
 means expects us to regard everything that is and happens 
 as perfect and divine, and to revere it. It is true, it does 
 assume that nothing that has existence is wholly foreign to 
 God. But God's nature itself remains transcendent. All 
 things transitory, we may say with Goethe, are but symbols. 
 But not every symbol is intelligible to you. Hence you 
 select what you can understand, and behold in it a revela- 
 tion, of the divine essence ; everything else you simply 
 ignore. 
 
 Take an example. You think of your country with 
 feelings of piety. You sang in your youth and you go on 
 singing : I sacrifice my heart and my hand, to live and to 
 die for my German fatherland. What is this fatherland, 
 this German people, to which you consecrate yourself, your 
 strength and your life ? Is it the collection of individuals 
 whom you know and whom you meet ? Is it the persons 
 with whom you are thrown daily, with whom you do busi- 
 ness or whom you meet in your official capacity ? Cer- 
 tainly not. Most of them are indifferent to you, while some 
 of them even annoy you. Is it the narrower circle with 
 which you are more closely connected; is it your acquaint- 
 ances and good friends, your colleagues and superiors ? It 
 is to be hoped that there is many a man among them whom 
 you honor and esteem, but you probably know, when you 
 speak of him, how far he is from being perfect. And you 
 surely do not intend to live and Jie for these men. And 
 yet you sing the song with real emotion. Where, then, 
 is this German people ? It is in the heart of your mother ; it 
 is in the language which she has taught you ; it is in the 
 song which goes to your heart ; it is in the face of your 
 
Chap. IL] PANTHEISM AND RELIGION. 263 
 
 child ; it is in the faithfulness of a friend, in the love of a 
 wife ; it looks at you even out of the blue eyes of a strange 
 child that plays by the wayside ; it is in every word of 
 instruction and wisdom that a faithful teacher has imparted 
 to you ; it is in the memory of your dead ; it is in the pictures 
 of the great men who have inspired you, whose thoughts 
 have enriched you. It is a picture which you have made 
 for yourself, an ideal form whose features you have 
 gathered together from the dearest, best, and most remark- 
 able things you have met. And now you say, leaving out 
 of account everything else : These are my people, such is 
 their real essence, these qualities reveal but do not exhaust 
 their true being, for countless stores of riches are hidden 
 from me. 
 
 Well, you treat reality in the same way. You gather 
 the features in nature and history which impress you most 
 profoundly and please you most, you form an image out of 
 them and say : Behold here the real essence, the pro- 
 foundest meaning and content of reality ! You contemplate 
 the setting sun and drink in its light ; you breathe the air 
 of spring and feel the throb of nature ; you see the sprout- 
 ing leaves, and the infinite wealth of beings that act in 
 harmony with each other ; you gaze upon the mountains and 
 the sea, upon heaven and the eternal stars, and say : That is 
 the work of God ! You read the works of the great poets 
 and seers of all peoples ; you try to follow their thoughts 
 and to grasp the eternal images, and feel therein the breath 
 of the spirit of God. You hear the Gospel ; you lose your- 
 self in the words and life of Christ ; you experience the 
 history of his passion and death, and you say with the 
 centurion : Certainly this was a righteous man and the 
 Son of God. Here you grasp the meaning of life, the 
 meaning of things ; this it is through and for which reality 
 exists. 
 
 It is true, we have besides, the trivial, the vulgar, and 
 the evil. Besides Jesus, the pride and hatred of the 
 scribes, the self-satisfied righteousness of the Pharisees, the 
 contemptible complaisance of the procurator of justice who 
 makes himself popular with the masses, the bloodthirsti- 
 ness of a blind mob, the baseness of a traitor, and the weak- 
 
264 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 ness of a denier. All these blemishes are there, and just 
 as real as the other items. Nevertheless you say : These 
 are not the essential elements of the historical event which 
 interests us, the life and death of the innocent and just man 
 constitute the essential factor ; this is the great world- 
 stirring fact ; all else is but a secondary means to an end, 
 essential to the outcome and exposition, but not part and 
 parcel thereof. 
 
 Of course this is arbitrary. You cannot convince any 
 one by argument who does not feel as you do. Should 
 any one maintain that the servant Malchus or the crowing 
 cock is just as much of a reality ; that there is no difference 
 that would justify you in showing any preference, you 
 cannot force him to a different view. It is not the under- 
 standing but the heart that makes distinctions. The intel- 
 lect views each part of reality as equally real. The dis- 
 tinction between the important and the unimportant, the 
 essential and the accidental, is made by the intellect, not by 
 the will. The heart tells you what is truly essential in the 
 infinite wealth of real things. If a man had no heart, if he 
 were mere, pure understanding, everything would be 
 equally important, or, rather, equally indifferent, to him. 
 This is what happens to the blase individual whose heart 
 is dead, whose feelings are blunted. 
 
 Hence it makes no difference here what cosmological 
 notion you happen to have concerning the origin and sub- 
 stance of the world. The pantheist as well as the theist 
 selects what he regards as the true import or the real es- 
 sence of things, and his choice depends, not on his cosmo- 
 logical speculations, but on the immediate interest which 
 the objects arouse in him. Nor is the theist determined 
 in his decision by other principles. When he grounds 
 his judgment on the Bible, it is simply because the book 
 itself and its contents have a meaning for him. And when 
 he accepts the authority of a church in interpreting things, 
 it is because he regards the same as a historical institution 
 having absolute importance. 
 
 But many believe that theism has an advantage in 
 handling such facts. Pantheism must assume that evil too 
 proceeds from the universal being ; hence the relation of 
 
Chap. II.] PANTHEISM AND RELIGION 265 
 
 God to good and evil becomes a doubtful one. Theism 
 separates God from the world so far that he is freed from 
 the imperfections of empirical reality. 
 
 True ; but theism can free God of these imperfections 
 only at the price of dualism. If we assume two original 
 principles, we can indeed foist the responsibility for every- 
 thing that displeases us upon the evil principle, upon 
 matter or the devil, and then reserve the other principle 
 as the ground of everything good and pleasing. But, as 
 is well known, the church doctrine was not willing to make 
 the sacrifice. Hence its theism has no advantage over 
 pantheism even in this regard. If God has created all 
 things out of nothing, they are and remain his products, 
 and all attempts to shift the responsibility for the imper- 
 fections of the given world from him to something else are 
 labor lost. They never have satisfied and never will satisfy 
 the intellect. Whether we seek the first cause of evil and 
 wickedness in the free will of man or in that of a fallen 
 angel, the understanding will always go a step farther and 
 inquire into the cause of the first cause. And if there is a 
 cause for the existence of man or angel, he will regard this 
 as the cause of his nature, and will, perhaps, with Jacob 
 Böhme, attribute it to some obscure original cause, to God, 
 or, with Leibniz, to some metaphysical limitation of his 
 creative power. 
 
 "We may say with greater justice that pantheism can 
 explain these facts more satisfactorily. It may, like 
 Spinoza, either identify reality and perfection and attribute 
 their apparent discrepancy to our arbitrary notions of 
 good and evil, perfection and imperfection ; or it may 
 with evolutionistic pantheism explain the process of the 
 development of reality as the progressive, increasing self- 
 realization of the idea, so that perfection is the end, not the 
 beginning. Whatever the value of such theories may be 
 in other respects, they lack the extreme onesidedness 
 which characterizes the notion that an almighty will, 
 anticipating all things, by an act of absolute will created 
 our world as an absolutely good one. But this same world 
 was so corrupted by the fall of a creature that acted from 
 absolute caprice that it must be regarded as belonging to 
 
266 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 the devil. Lucilio Yanini once suggested the thought 
 which J. Stuart Mill repeats in his posthumous essays on 
 religion: God desires the salvation, the devil the ruin, of 
 all human beings. But, since all infidels and heretics are 
 lost eo ipso, and since the members of the church who die 
 in cardinal sin or in hostility to the church are also lost, 
 the result is that the will of the devil is realized to an 
 infinitely greater extent than God's. For these views Vanini 
 was burnt at the stake, a mode of argument that neither 
 convinces the intellect nor satisfies the heart. I do not 
 claim that the above-mentioned reflections of the pantheis- 
 tic theodicy accomplish this ; but there is certainly some- 
 thing consoling about them. Besides, the theistical at- 
 tempts at a theodicy ultimately reach the same conclu- 
 sion. The statements about the unreality of evil, and the 
 faith of men in the final restoration of all things, show that 
 this is so. 
 
 10. Historical Evolution of Theism and Cosmology. 
 
 To the critical and dogmatical treatment of the cosmo- 
 logico-theological problem let me append the outlines of a 
 historical exposition. I have already said that, in my 
 opinion, the development of human thought tends to 
 idealistic monism. Scientific and philosophical reflections lead 
 to it on the one hand, while the development of the relig- 
 ious view of the world leads to a monotheism that, if consist- 
 ently carried out, deprives God of all finiteness and limita- 
 tion, and therefore of all finite determinations, leaving no 
 place for an independent world alongside of him. If mono- 
 theism is logically carried out, its most universal world-form- 
 ula coincides with pantheism : juovoz 6 Seos, God alone 
 exists. 
 
 Historical investigations cannot, of course, determine the 
 truth of a cosmical theory. Nevertheless, the historical 
 proof, if we wish to designate these reflections as such, is 
 not without its value. All philosophers acknowledge this 
 by the desire which they manifest to represent their 
 own views of the world as the climax of the preceding 
 philosophical evolution. Feuerbach and Büchner are just 
 as intent upon proclaiming their systems as the necessary 
 
Chap. II. J EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 267 
 
 end of the series as Hegel and Comte ; and rightly so. 
 Wherever we have to deal with the knowledge of particular 
 historical or physical facts, the investigator will trust only 
 the methodical investigation, and demand that the decision 
 be left to it exclusively. But wherever the question is 
 concerning ultimates, wherever we have to reflect the total 
 impression which the world makes on the human mind, the 
 individual needs the support of collective thinking : it is 
 important that he obtain the consensus gentium or, if that is 
 not possible, the consensus historice ; he must convince him- 
 self that his views are really the sought-for goal to which 
 the preceding development necessarily leads. 
 
 It is customary in the natural history of religion to dis- 
 tinguish three fundamental forms or stages in the develop- 
 ment of the belief in God : Fetishism or Spiritism (also 
 called animism, naturism), Polytheism, and Monotheism. The 
 faith in a suprasensuous being that acts upon the sensible 
 world is common to all. The forms, however, differ which 
 they ascribe to the suprasensuous and its activity. Fet- 
 ishism or Spiritism prevails among the savage tribes in 
 all parts of the world. Its concomitant is Shamanism or 
 necromancy. A fetish (from the Portuguese feitico, amulet, 
 idol) is any given object in which dwells a magic power or 
 a spirit. A stone, a sherd, a bone, a bunch of herbs or 
 hair, a roughly-carved image, is worn on the body or hung 
 up in the hut of the negro. The object receives some marks 
 of attention from him ; food and drink are placed before 
 it. In return the worshipper expects the fulfilment of his 
 wishes : protection against disease, evil magic, and all 
 kinds of misfortune. If these expectations are not realized, 
 the fetish is regarded as having no power and is thrown 
 away, and an attempt is made to get possession of a more 
 efficient one. The manufacture and treatment of fetishes 
 is the great science of the magic priests who have control 
 over the spirits. Even animals, trees, groves, mountains, 
 streams, lakes, the ocean, the moon and the sun are looked 
 upon by many as the abodes of spirits, and propitiated with 
 acts of worship. It is also very common to worship the 
 departed souls of ancestors. Finally, gods of a mytholog- 
 ical and •cosmological character are spoken of, spoken of 
 
268 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 more often than worshipped. We hear of gods or a God 
 who originally created the world and man. The religious 
 ideas of negroes and Indians, of northern Asiatic tribes 
 and the inhabitants of Polynesia are essentially alike. 
 Fetishism and shamanism are their most prominent ele- 
 ments ; in addition to these we find the rudiments of cos- 
 mogonic mythology ; and here and there mention is made 
 of a great spirit, of God, who has created all things, from 
 whom man in particular is descended. Occasionally, too, 
 we find the statement that the old and great gods gave way 
 to new and lesser gods.* 
 
 What is the nature of the " divine " which is wor- 
 shipped ? It is hard to determine it. This stage is char- 
 acterized by the vagueness of its notions of God's essence 
 and by the uncertainty of his activity. It is an error to 
 suppose that the particular accidental thing is the object of 
 worship. A suprasensuous element, a " spirit," is every- 
 where assumed, upon which and through which effects are 
 produced. The negro believes that "a spirit dwells, or 
 may dwell, in every sensible object ; and that too, a great 
 and mighty spirit in wholly insignificant objects. He does 
 not conceive this spirit as bound to the corporeal object ; 
 it simply makes it its customary abode." (Waitz, II. 174.) 
 That the negro has a bent for metaphysics is shown by a 
 story narrated in the same work (page 183). " A negro 
 was worshipping a tree, supposed to be his fetish, with an 
 offering of food, when a certain European asked whether he 
 thought the tree could eat. The negro replied : * Oh, the 
 tree is not the fetish ; the fetish is a spirit and invisible, but 
 he has descended into this tree. Certainly he cannot 
 devour our bodily food, but he enjoys its spiritual part, 
 and leaves behind the bodily part, which we see.' ' 
 
 Polytheism is the second fundamental form. It differs 
 from the first in this, that in it the suprasensuous element 
 assumes the form of personal beings. Instead of idols, the 
 vague, perishable, nameless, and shapeless incorporations of 
 magic power, we have gods : permanent, fixed, personal, and 
 
 * References in Th. Waitz, Anthropologie der Naturvölker: II. 167 ff. 
 for the negroes ; in. 177 ff. for the Indians ; v. 134 for Micronesians ; VI. 229 
 ff. for the Polynesians. 
 
Chap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 269 
 
 historical beings. Tlie Greek gods are the most perfect 
 examples of this type of religion. Each member of the 
 kingdom of the gods is a well-defined historical personage ; 
 his corporeal as well as spiritual nature exhibits the gen- 
 eral characteristics of human nature. They are, however, 
 exalted human beings, without the limitations of mortals. 
 They are not subject to the laws of nature, which govern 
 our existence ; space, time, and causality are not applicable 
 to the gods. They are not absolutely incorporeal beings, 
 but can assume any shape ; they are not omnipresent, but 
 are where they desire to be, without using our slow means 
 of locomotion ; they are not outside of time, but do not 
 grow old and die ; their life is eternal youth ; they are 
 not omnipotent, but their wishes determine reality without 
 employing the roundabout means peculiar to human 
 action. 
 
 Polytheism is peculiar to the earlier periods of his- 
 torical nations. We find deities similar in their fundamen- 
 tal characteristics to the Greek gods among all historical 
 peoples : among Egyptians and Semites, among Hindoos 
 and Persians, among Teutons and Slavs. In the New 
 World the nations among whom we find the beginnings of 
 historical life, the inhabitants of Mexico and Peru, are 
 likewise remarkable for the fact that they have created a 
 world of gods. 
 
 This coincidence is not accidental : historical gods are 
 the transcendent reflections of a nation's own historical 
 life. The restless fear and covetousness of the savage are 
 reflected in fetishism. He is without lasting thoughts 
 and recollections, without aims and ideals that go beyond 
 his sensuous individual life ; and so he lives in the present, 
 subject to the needs of his sensuous nature. His gods are 
 like himself ; they are transitory, ephemeral creatures like 
 the fear and the desires which produce them. Similarly, 
 the gods of historical peoples resemble their originators. 
 The permanent union of the tribe organized into families 
 gives the individual a share in the historical life of the 
 whole and thus raises him above the transitoriness of 
 animal existence. So, too, the gods become historical per- 
 sonages, whose relations to each other and to mankind are 
 
270 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 lasting. As the people become settled, their gods too be- 
 come settled ; the temple rises by the side of the town-hall 
 as the permanent dwelling-place of the god. 
 
 A closer examination into the nature of the gods leads 
 us to distinguish three elements, which, of course, form an 
 undivided unity of personal life in the consciousness of the 
 believer. They are : (1) personified magic powers ; (2) per- 
 sonified natural forces ; and (3) personified ideals. The first 
 class betrays a similarity with fetishism. By influencing 
 the gods we may indirectly influence the course of nature. 
 Acts of worship are means of procuring in a supranatural 
 way what the natural powers of man do not secure. In 
 true religion this is always the first and most important 
 factor. True religion does not consist in mythology, but in 
 worship. Health and wealth, harvests and children, victory 
 and good fortune, and the great science of the future are 
 what all believers constantly strive to obtain from the gods 
 through prayer and sacrifices. Everywhere we find a pro- 
 fessional priesthood that performs the acts of worship and 
 divination, everywhere also all kinds of superstitions and 
 charms which in no wise differ from fetishism. 
 
 Secondly, the gods are personified natural forces or na- 
 tural beings. This is the phase with which the mythologists 
 mainly occupy themselves. Zeus is the bright sky or the 
 celestial force which manifests itself in the weather, above 
 all in the lightning ; Demeter is the fruitful soil, which bears 
 in its lap grain and fruit ; Poseidon, the sea or the force of 
 the sea encircling and agitating the earth ; Apollo and 
 Artemis, the two great luminaries of day and night. The 
 inexhaustible fertility of the Greek fancy has brought the 
 thousand forms into thousandfold relations with each other 
 and with man. Natural and human elements are woven 
 together, forming a variegated web of myths. The analyt- 
 ical investigator distinguishes therein anthropomorphic 
 and symbolic interpretations of natural phenomena, trans- 
 formed historical reminiscences, tribal legends and legends 
 pertaining to places of worship, etymological and geo- 
 graphical fictions, and undertakes the arduous and hopeless 
 task of explaining the historical development of this world 
 
Chap. II.] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 271 
 
 or the more hopeless one of reducing it to a systematic 
 unity. 
 
 Finally, the gods exhibit still another phase : they are 
 personified ideals; they are the concrete representations of a 
 people's ideas of human perfection. Zeus is the ideal of 
 the ruler ; dignity and might, based on power and right, are 
 the elements of his being. In the person of Apollo the 
 Greek idea of the free and exalted spirit is represented ; 
 spiritual freedom and prudence are perfectly harmonized 
 in him ; the Muses are his attendants. And so, Hera, 
 Athene, and Aphrodite are types of female perfection. 
 
 Und wir verehren 
 
 Die Unsterblichen, 
 
 Als wären sie Menschen, 
 
 Thäten im Grossen, 
 
 Was der Beste im Kleinen 
 
 Thut oder möchte. 
 
 Before I turn to monotheism, I shall briefly enter upon 
 the question whether fetishism, polytheism, and mono- 
 theism are to be regarded not merely as three fundamen- 
 tally different ground-forms, but also as successive stages of 
 development ; in particular, whether fetishism was the 
 primitive form of religion, preceding all others. For it 
 does not seem doubtful that monotheism is the historical 
 outgrowth of the preliminary stage of polytheism. The 
 former view has, as Max Müller * shows, become prevalent 
 since the middle of the last century. The theological con- 
 ception that polytheism and fetishism are corruptions of 
 the original, pure, monotheistic religion of Adam, used to 
 be the prevailing one prior to this time. M. Müller rejects 
 the latter opinion as unscientific, but also denies the truth 
 of the former. Fetishism, he declares, is never a primary 
 form, but a corrupt survival of an originally more exalted 
 conception of the Deity ; with the decline of civilization, 
 the higher intellectual significance of the acts of worship 
 was lost and degenerated into " the worship of stocks and 
 stones." 
 
 *M. Müller, Lectures on the Origin and Growth of Religion (1891), 
 pp. 54 ff. Cf. also O. Pfleiderer, Religionsphilosophie auf geschichtlicher 
 •Grundlage (1884), n. pp. 3 if. 
 
272 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 Indeed, if we mean by fetishism the worship of material, 
 " inanimate " objects — and such worship may exist among 
 individuals and degraded tribes — then M. Müller is 
 undoubtedly right in his statement. Such an irrational 
 fetishism presupposes "antecedents" which made it possible, 
 and as whose " inanimate" survival it remained after the real 
 import of fetishism had been lost. But the case is different 
 if we mean by fetishism what was suggested above and 
 what Waitz, to whom M. Müller himself appeals, regards 
 as alone according with the facts, namely, that fetishism is 
 the worship of " spirits " temporarily residing in a given 
 object. If the historical life of civilized nations was pre- 
 ceded by an unhistorical or prehistorical stage, we cannot but 
 regard the historical gods as the outgrowth of prehistoric 
 gods. For surely, nothing can be more certain here than 
 the universal proposition that the nature of a people is 
 reflected in the nature of the gods whom they worship. 
 The vague, perishable, formless " spirits " of fetishism are 
 such prehistoric gods. 
 
 Nor does the history of the Hindoo religion contradict 
 this view, as far as I can see. M. Müller calls the oldest 
 stratum that can be reached in the literature of the Hindoos 
 " henotheism ": the divine exists in many and in changeable 
 spectral natural forces, among which now the one, now 
 the other appears as the first and highest. According to 
 his description, we may regard this form as a transition 
 from the primitive belief in spirits to the later polytheism 
 of the Hindoos with its personal and historical gods. It 
 may have been preceded by a stage of development that 
 cannot be historically accounted for and that wholly agrees 
 with the current conception of fetishistic spiritism. By the 
 very nature of the case, fetishism can leave no historical 
 monuments. Survivals only are preserved, and with such 
 the anthropologist is confronted everywhere.* 
 
 * Nowhere in the Homeric world is there any mention of soul- worship 
 and of the influence of departed souls upon our earth. The world of the 
 dead is absolutely separated from the world of the living. E. Rohde (Psyche, 
 Seelenkult und Unsterblichkeitsglaube bei den Griechen, 1890), however, 
 shows from numerous traces and survivals that this stage was preceded by 
 another, during which the Greeks believed in and feared " spirits " and 
 developed a soul-worship. Rohde connects the disappearance of the belief 
 
Chap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 273 
 
 Every attempt to solve the problem concerning the 
 primitive origin of the belief in gods or supranatural beings 
 seems to reach the same conclusion. 
 
 Three different ways of explaining the origin of religion 
 have been suggested. One hypothesis starts out from the 
 theoretical impulse, from the causal instinct in man. O. 
 Peschel prefaces the section on religion in his Völkerkunde 
 with the following proposition : " On all stages of culture and 
 among all human tribes, religious emotions are invariably 
 aroused by the same inward impulse— the need, namely, of 
 detecting a cause or an originator of every phenomenon and 
 event." And he repeats this statement at the conclusion, 
 adding that the causal need of inferior minds is satisfied 
 even by a fetish. The first form of causality and the one 
 best known to man is his own activity. He contemplates 
 the world according to this category and regards all events 
 in the heavens and on earth as the acts of volitional beings. 
 In this way, mythology arises as a product of anthropo- 
 morphic apperception. 
 
 Another explanation takes as its starting-point, not the in- 
 telligence, but the will ; not theoretical, but practical needs. 
 So Ludwig Feuerbach in his work, Das Wesen der Religion. 
 It must be said, however, that Hume, Spinoza, and Hobbes 
 preceded him in this, and that nowadays many agree with 
 the general current of his thought. According to Feuer- 
 bach, magic constituted the essence of all primitive re- 
 ligions. The gods are wish-granters whose business it is 
 to fulfil the wishes which man himself cannot realize. As 
 necessity is the mother of all arts, so, too, she is the 
 mother of the art of sorcery. The part which intelligence 
 plays in the matter is secondary ; it furnishes the will with 
 the means, with the idea of a " spirit " or " God," that is, 
 
 in spirits with transmigration and the transition from the older mode of 
 burial to cremation. The psyche's double is destroyed by cremation, and in 
 this way the soul itself is completely and definitely separated from the 
 material element, so that it belongs exclusively to the dark realm of the 
 shades in Hades and can no longer haunt the bright and sunny earth. Thus 
 the Greeks of the Homeric age freed themselves from the phantom- world of 
 spirits. At a later, more religiously inclined age the survivals of primitive 
 faith were revived in Greece in hero- and soul- worship. 
 
274 THE COSMOLOGIGAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 with the idea of a supranatural power on which the will can 
 act and thus indirectly assert itself in nature. 
 
 The third starting-point is the belief in the continued 
 existence of departed spirits. Herbert Spencer emphasizes 
 this factor. His natural doctrine of religion (in the first 
 volume of the Principles of Sociology) concludes with the 
 assertion "that ancestor-worship is the root of every 
 religion." 
 
 As far as I can see, these explanations do not exclude 
 but supplement each other. First as regards Peschel's 
 theory, the intellectualistic theory, which for the most part 
 also underlies the explanations of the mythologists, we may 
 say that taken by itself it is evidently insufficient. It 
 expects too much of the intelligence or the causal need of 
 primitive man. If, as Genesis tells us, man had suddenly 
 appeared in the world, one fine dajr, with the entire mental 
 equipment of the present, or even with superior powers, only 
 as yet without knowledge, then indeed his first feeling might 
 have been one of wonder, and his first concern the question 
 regarding the creator of these things. If, however, he 
 was evolved from lower forms of life, then we are hardly 
 permitted to regard surprise and wonder as playing an im- 
 portant part at the beginning of his career. Animals show 
 us daily how little purely sensuous beings are impressed 
 by celestial phenomena, which according to the mytholo- 
 gists first arouse the causal impulse : sunrise and the dawn 
 of day, eclipses and storms. Only a highly-developed 
 mental being feels astonishment at the processes which it 
 has long ago been accustomed to perceive. I believe that 
 the notion of spirit had to be present before the mytho- 
 logical interpretation of sun and moon, of storms and clouds, 
 of earth and sea was at all possible. And hence I do not 
 doubt that Herbert Spencer is right when he derives the 
 original notion of a spirit from the belief that the departed 
 continue to exist as spectres. The unusual amount of 
 anthropological material collected and so well arranged by 
 him shows how universal the belief is, and at the same 
 time makes clear its origin. It also explains how the 
 belief came to form the basis of an animism that endows 
 everything with souls, of an anthropomorphic apperception 
 
Chap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 275 
 
 of natural events, and finally of a mythical conception of 
 nature. 
 
 Then again, it is plain how the belief in spirits might in 
 a volitional being form the beginning of the practical series, 
 of magic and worship. The original type of worship univer- 
 sally seems to consist in invoking the spirits of the departed 
 and offering them a share in the meal. But since the spirits 
 themselves are not real beings in the common acceptation, 
 the intercourse with them has a peculiar, one might say a 
 spectral, character. They do not really eat the food, like 
 living beings, nor do they give an audible answer. They 
 appear now at this place, then at that ; now in this form, 
 then in that ; they are not bound by the laws of corporeality, 
 of space and time, and hence they exert spectral, supranat- 
 ural influences. If one only knew the art of gaining their 
 favor, one might certainly produce many an effect otherwise 
 impossible. If one only knew how to question them prop- 
 erly, one might receive many a revelation from them that 
 no one else can know, especially of the future, since they 
 themselves do not exist in time, at least not in the proper 
 sense of the term. 
 
 This explains the origin of the art of magic. Feuerbach 
 is right : It is the will which makes it universal and makes 
 shamanism and sacrificial worship, augury and oracles, an 
 essential part of human life. The desire exists to assert 
 one's will, while there are a thousand hindrances and ob- 
 stacles that cannot be overcome by natural efficiency ; 
 the ardent desire also exists to foresee the future, which 
 lies concealed from mortals in impenetrable darkness. The 
 idea of a spirit offers itself with its supranatural power 
 and knowledge. Seizing upon this, the will, made inventive 
 by necessity, hits upon an endless variety of suprasensuous 
 or transcendent acts and interpretations, which confront 
 anthropological and historical research at every step. If 
 the necessity were not so urgent and the will to live not so 
 strong, the belief in spirits would not have gained such 
 immense importance in the history of thought. Spinoza 
 appreciates this fact. " If human beings," so he begins the 
 preface to his Tractatus theologico-politicus, "were able to 
 govern their affairs by firm decisions, or if fortune always 
 
276 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 favored them, there would be no superstition. Since, how» 
 ever, necessity renders them absolutely helpless, and since 
 they are tossed between fear and hope in their eager desire 
 for the uncertain gifts of fortune, their minds are ever ready 
 to accept any belief and superstition." 
 
 Finally, however, the intellectualistic conception of the 
 mythologists is not without an element of truth. The 
 mythologist will find no difficulty in showing that Herbert 
 Spencer is wrong in deriving the entire world of gods, with 
 its euhemerism, directly from deified ancestors and kings. 
 Zeus and Demeter, Apollo and Artemis, Indra and Rudra, 
 Mtra and Yaruna are certainly not deified kings and 
 queens. We might, with greater justice, call them per- 
 sonified or deified natural forces. It is true, their origin 
 was first made possible by the belief in the continued 
 existence of the dead. But after the idea of a spirit has 
 once been formed, it separates itself from its origin and be- 
 comes the starting-point for new and independent creations : 
 natural events are interpreted spiritistically or anthropo- 
 morphically. The details of this process, how the spirits 
 became personified natural forces or the natural forces in- 
 corporated spirits, cannot, of course, be concretely shown. 
 We cannot trace the history of the particular gods to their 
 origin in the popular soul. What we can attempt to do is 
 to point out the general psychological possibilities. And 
 hence we may with Max Müller consider the influence 
 exerted on thought by primitive speech, which personified 
 everything. It constantly provoked fancy, as it were, to 
 think of an active subject behind the natural processes, 
 thunder, rain, and storm. But what could this being be 
 other than a spirit, like the one that dwells in the surround- 
 ing tangible, material objects? Inward relations are then 
 established between the spirit and the manifestations of 
 the object in which it resides, and the spirit becomes a 
 natural spirit, a personified natural force ; Apollo or Mitra 
 becomes the all-seeing sun- and light-god, who scatters 
 darkness and sends his arrows broadcast. Zeus or Indra 
 becomes the celestial god, who holds the forces of the up- 
 per regions in his hand, gathers the clouds, causes rain 
 and snow, and above all hurls the mighty thunderbolt. At 
 
Chap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 277 
 
 the same time, the poetical and religious fancy performs its 
 share by anthropomorphically interpreting external phe- 
 nomena as expressions of inner moral states or experiences, 
 and so the gods arise, those wonderful beings in whom 
 physico-cosmical and historico-mental elements are com- 
 bined into a unity that is so strange and full of contradic- 
 tions. 
 
 We now turn to the third and last fundamental form of 
 religion, to monotheism. It is peculiar to the more advanced 
 mental culture of historical peoples. It is characteristic 
 of the great monotheistic religions, first, that they origi- 
 nated in historical times and through historical personages ; 
 secondly, that they spiritualize the divine element. The gods 
 are sensuous and suprasensuous beings. Monotheism 
 entirely removes the sensuous part. God is spirit, incor- 
 poreal, formless, inconceivable by the sensuous imagination. 
 This view completely divests the transcendent world of its 
 anthropomorphic garb, at least so far as the principle is 
 concerned, for the masses will never give up sensual- 
 izing spirit. With the disappearance of human limitations, 
 the deity ceases to exist as a particular being. The in- 
 dividual is a being limited by time and space. A being 
 that is absolutely free from these limitations ceases to be 
 an individual being. God is the being, the one universal being, 
 whose power and essence penetrates and fills all spaces and 
 times. And hence, still another limitation disappears : the 
 national limitation. The gods of polytheism are the gods of 
 a particular people ; other nations have other gods. The 
 one God, the world-god, is the only true God, besides whom 
 there are no other gods. All the monotheistic religions have 
 a predilection for international propaganda, which is 
 foreign to the polytheistic religions. True, the Greeks and 
 Romans also carried their gods into foreign lands, but it 
 never occurred to them to make the souls of foreign na- 
 tions subject to them. The desire to convert, which mani- 
 fests itself in diverse ways, in missions and crusades, is 
 peculiar to monotheistic religions. 
 
 Monotheism appears in history as an advance over poly- 
 theism. We may, to a certain extent, trace the course of 
 evolution in the Greek world. The progress of mental 
 
278 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 culture exerts a destructive influence upon anthropomor- 
 phic polytheism. The old gods are no longer able to sat- 
 isfy the demands either of the advanced moral or theoret- 
 ical consciousness. 
 
 At first we notice a tendency on the part of the Greeks 
 to remove from the moral nature of their gods such features 
 as the more sensitive consciousness is unable to tolerate. 
 If the gods are really what the reverent believer takes them 
 to be, the establishers of order, the bestowers of blessings, 
 the protectors of right and custom, we cannot and must not 
 attribute to them everything that legend and myth refer 
 to them. Priests and philosophers, poets and artists as- 
 sisted in the work of purification, by means of which the 
 mythico-anthropomorphical and magico-fetishistic features 
 were subjected to a process of elimination since the sixth 
 century.* The development likewise tends towards unity. 
 Homer does not take exception to the fact that the gods 
 are hostile to and at war with each other, that they are on 
 opposite sides in their interference with the affairs of men. 
 A later age, however, cannot bear the thought of such dis- 
 cord. Goodness and justice are one, and there can be no 
 conflict between them. Hence the gods are of one mind 
 and desire the same ends. It is not at first the metaphysi- 
 cal unity of the divine being which is an ethical postulate, 
 but the unanimity of the divine will. The demand for unity 
 found its literal expression in the term " the divine " (to 
 deiov), which has been current since the days of Herodotus. 
 The term does not preclude the idea of a plurality of be- 
 ings or, we may even say, of names or persons (characters 
 or manifestations). For the religious feeling of the Greek 
 people would not have been willing to dispense with these. 
 "For the Greek, the entire beauty, the entire warmth, the 
 entire sublimity of his religion is essentially based on the 
 idea of a world of gods. Nor can we appreciate the com- 
 plete grandeur of that religion even now, unless we con- 
 ceive it in the same way. These beings spend their happy 
 lives in heaven and on earth, either alone or in each other's 
 society, being everywhere present and taking part in every- 
 
 * L. Schmidt, Die Etliik der alten Griechen, i. 133 ff. 
 
Chap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 279 
 
 thing, sympathizing with their human favorites and their 
 fates, loving them, watching over them, punishing them, 
 and governing them. A rigorous monotheism, with its 
 chilling solitude, would have seemed to the ancient Greeks 
 like atheism." * 
 
 Thus polytheism remains morally possible. Its exist- 
 ence is, however, threatened by the development of theo- 
 retical speculation. The unity of nature was the feature in 
 reality which attracted Greek philosophy from the very 
 outset. All the endeavors of the most ancient philosophers 
 are devoted to the discovery of the unitary principle of 
 reality. If this principle is spiritual and personal, it can- 
 not but be a unified one. The cosmos does not look like a 
 work in which many participated, but like the product of 
 an all-ruling reason. The first decided hostile conflict be- 
 tween philosophy and popular polytheism seems to have 
 occurred in Eleatic speculation. The position of the ancient 
 gods became even more precarious with the rapid develop- 
 ment of the positive sciences after the fourth century. An 
 age that busies itself with zoology and botany, anatomy 
 and physiology, cannot regard the Olympic gods otherwise 
 than as fictions. The initiated may avoid the conflict 
 with the traditional popular religion and treat the gods 
 sparingly ; he may transform them and find aesthetical 
 pleasure in their contemplation, or give them a dwelling- 
 place on earth where they can no longer disturb the course 
 of nature, but he can no longer believe in them. 
 
 The philosophical conception of the world which sup- 
 plants the mythological view and in a certain sense supplies 
 the loss of the old world of gods is an idealistic pantheism. 
 I shall briefly trace the historical development of this view, 
 which is to this day one of the fundamental forms of 
 thought, if not the fundamental form of philosophical 
 thought, in the West.f 
 
 *K. Lehrs, Populäre Aufsätze aus dem Altertum, pp. 148 ff. 
 
 f I call tlie reader's attention to the brief but full and clear exposition 
 of the History of Ancient Philosophy by W. Windelband, which together 
 with a valuable supplement, S. Grünther's Umriss der Geschichte der Mathe- 
 matik, Naturwissenschaft und Kosmologie, shows the growth of Greek 
 thought. It forms a part (V, 1) of the Handbuch der classischen Philologie, 
 ed. by J. Müller. 
 
280 THE COSMOLOGICALTHEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 In the philosophy of Plato this conception is for the first 
 time consistently carried out. It is true, there is, besides, 
 another view of the world which is the antithesis of Plato's 
 idealism : the materialistic atomism of Democritus. But the 
 train of thought initiated by Plato became the prevailing 
 one even in antiquity, and gained still greater prominence 
 during the middle ages and in modern times. Indeed, it was 
 received, though with considerable modifications, into the 
 scholastic systems of the church, and thus became an ele- 
 ment of popular thought, against which it had originally 
 taken so hostile a stand. The facts from which it proceeds 
 are familiar to Greek thought : A rational order governs 
 nature and in particular the heavenly bodies ; justice rules 
 the human world, the life of individuals as well as of 
 nations. These facts, which Democritus and Epicurus do 
 not deny, but attempt to explain after their own fashion, 
 Plato interprets in his theory of ideas, utilizing and develop- 
 ing many thoughts of his predecessors : Reality is in truth 
 nothing but a unified system of actual, harmonious thoughts. 
 
 By this great paradox the philosophical thought of 
 the West definitely severs its connection with popular 
 opinion. "Opinion," which contemplates reality only with 
 the senses, adheres to the notion that the world consists of 
 an aggregation of objects which move in space and originate 
 and perish in time. The philosopher who does not con- 
 template reality with the senses but with the intellect recog- 
 nizes its true essence ; he comprehends it by means of dia- 
 lectical speculation, by thoughtful reflection, as that which 
 it is in itself : as an actual, timeless and spaceless, eternal 
 and immutable system of thoughts. As a poem, a philos- 
 ophy, or a geometrical system exists as an actual system of 
 thoughts, so reality in itself, the koct/aos votjtos, the mundus 
 intelligibilis, exists as such a system. In the former case, a 
 plurality of elements is combined into a unity by inner log- 
 ical or sesthetical necessity, and exists as such outside of 
 time, whereas subjective consciousness can comprehend it 
 only in time-relations. Similarly, the actual world exists as 
 a plurality of thoughts or ideas connected inwardly by log- 
 ical and sesthetical necessity. To be sure, the existence of a 
 thought consists in being thought, and hence the existence 
 
Chap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 281 
 
 of reality as such consists in the unitary system of thought 
 being eternally thought, or in the self-consciousness of the 
 idea, which constitutes reality, or, as we may say, in the 
 living self-existence of God, who is the All-Eeal and the 
 All-Good. 
 
 Thus the philosopher conceives reality ; he attempts to 
 repeat the actual thoughts, the thoughts which constitute 
 the essence of God or reality. Of course, he sees reality 
 in another form also ; like others he, too, beholds it with 
 the senses, and it appears to him as to them : as an aggre- 
 gation of objects scattered through space, changing, origi- 
 nating, and perishing in time. But the illusion does not 
 deceive him ; he knows that the actual cannot originate and 
 perish. Besides, the true reality everywhere shines through 
 the phenomenal world. The eye of the philosopher every- 
 where detects the idea, even in the spatial-time world. 
 There is a rational mental factor in all things ; it exists as 
 mathematical uniformity in the order of the celestial sys- 
 tem, as a teleological, rational correlation between the 
 organs and functions of living beings. It is true, this 
 factor is, as it were, concealed or obstructed by " another," 
 an irrational factor. In all corporeal things we find be- 
 sides a rational, definable, and hence conceivable element, 
 besides form and law, something that is formless and un- 
 definable, something that is absolutely impervious to 
 thought ; and it is owing to this that things are spatially 
 extended. Since this "other" does not belong to the 
 world of thought, it is not real at all, it is, so to say, a 
 M*7 ov , a mere illusion. Nevertheless it is again endowed 
 with a kind of reality in Plato's natural philosophical ex- 
 positions, especially in his Timceus. It is there used as a 
 " co-operative cause" existing alongside of the real cause or 
 the actual thoughts which now become formative ideas of 
 purpose, in order to explain the world of sense ; above all, 
 in order to saddle the disturbances and malformations 
 upon it. But in the philosophical writings proper, the im- 
 perfections do not attach to reality itself, but simply to our 
 sensuous perception of reality. Eeality and perfection are 
 already what realitas and perfectio came to be later on, 
 identical concepts ; God, the living, self-existent world- 
 
282 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 thought, who harbors in himself an infinite wealth of inner 
 qualities, is at the same time the All-Real and the All-Good. 
 The Aristotelian conception of the universe is closely 
 akin to the foregoing view. It is true that Aristotle him- 
 self feels and accentuates the opposition which exists 
 between himself and Plato. He discovers it especially in 
 the fact that he is not willing, like Plato, to separate the 
 actual thoughts from reality. The " ideas " are not out- 
 side and alongside of objects. They are in the objects as 
 the actual realized ideas of purpose. Or expressed differ- 
 ently (for Plato would reject this exposition as not repre- 
 senting him fairly : ideas are not something alongside of an 
 "other"; they themselves constitute reality): According 
 to Aristotle, the world of particular sensuous objects is the 
 real world; the ko<j}aos aio-&?/r6s, the world of plurality, 
 of origin and decay, which Plato explained as a mere 
 reflection of the actual ideal world upon our sense-percep- 
 tion, is, for him, the real world ; it is the object of his 
 theoretical interest and tireless investigation. But in his 
 real explanation of things, in his metaphysics and natural 
 philosophy, he altogether follows in the footsteps of his 
 teacher. He, too, finds a dualism in all objects : a rational 
 factor, the " form," the idea, the purpose, and an irrational 
 factor, the "other," matter, which, as such, is formless, non- 
 conceptual, and inconceivable, not reducible to thought. 
 In the relation between the body and the soul we have the 
 most significant pattern of the dual nature of all things : 
 the soul, the rational and ideal element of the living being ; 
 matter, out of which it fashions the body, the irrational 
 part. And he, too, regards the rational factor, which is the 
 real, knowable element in the object, as the true reality. 
 Matter as such is an unreal or merely potential factor, 
 which becomes a definite, concrete reality only through 
 the idea or the ideal purpose. It is true, the idea of the 
 purpose is not in itself real either ; it becomes so only when 
 it is realized in matter. But ultimately, in his theology, 
 which is the final completion of his philosophy, the ideal 
 element is raised to the rank of the only and self-existent 
 reality : all ideas are finally included in the one, all-embrac- 
 ing idea, in the world-thought or world-form, that is in 
 
Chap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 283 
 
 God. God, however, is pure form without matter, actus 
 jourus, and his reality consists in pure thinking. His exist- 
 ence is the thinking of the absolute content of thought 
 (vor/cris roi'/creGos), the self-realization in self-conscious- 
 ness of the idea which is reality. — That is exactly what 
 Plato says: The unified, self-existent system of ideas 
 which realizes itself in thought constitutes the absolute 
 reality. God is the unity of thought and being. The only 
 difference would be that Aristotle has ideas of individual 
 things, whereas in Plato only the general, and not partic- 
 ulars, occurs in the real world of thought. Still Plato does 
 not always adhere to this view; for him souls are "indi- 
 vidual ideas." And he would likewise recognize his own 
 thoughts in Aristotle's conception of the relation be- 
 tween God and nature : the whole of nature has a purposive 
 impulse and makes for the good ; the good, however, is 
 nothing outside of nature, but its own perfect form. At 
 least so far as man is concerned : for Plato regards the 
 good as nothing but the perfect realization of the idea of 
 man in an individual form. Moreover, both accept the 
 same fundamental conceptions in ethics. 
 
 The Stoa follows the same line of thought. A universal 
 reason that pervades the whole of reality with its own 
 inner necessity and everywhere produces form and order, 
 the rational and good element, is the ultimate world-prin- 
 ciple or the true essence of reality. Besides this ideal or 
 rational factor of reality, the Stoics also recognize the 
 " other," a material factor by the side of reason. But they 
 make a somewhat violent attempt to overcome this dualism 
 again by assuring us that the rational element is likewise 
 the material element, or, conversely, that the material prin- 
 ciple, or the primitive fire from which everything comes and 
 into which everything is resolved, is, at the same time, the 
 ideal principle, the universal reason. If we disregard the 
 somewhat extreme formulation of their view, we shall evi- 
 dently find a rational meaning therein. It is at bottom the 
 same conception which later philosophers desired to reach 
 in their doctrine of the parallelism between thought and 
 extension, or of the identity of the ideal and the real, or the 
 
284 THE C0SM0L0G1CAL-THE0L0GICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 view which Plato established by conceiving the corporeal 
 world as an illusion — namely, a monistic ontology. 
 
 In the theosophical speculations in which Greek philoso- 
 phy finally culminates, the features of idealistic pantheism 
 are everywhere recognizable. The transcendency of God is 
 emphasized ; his essence transcends all existing attributes, 
 even the attribute of mind. Nevertheless the category of 
 mind expresses his essence most adequately; thought is 
 his first revelation, and the old attributes of unity and good- 
 ness are his formal qualities. And to conclude, I shall let 
 the Peripatetic Simplicius, one of the last thinkers of the 
 old Hellenic world, express the fundamental conception 
 common to the times. His commentary on the little hand- 
 book of Epictetus begins as follows : " The good is the 
 source and origin of all things. For it is the origin and 
 the goal of things, that towards which everything strives 
 and tends. And the good produces all things out of itself 
 — the first, the middle, and the last. But the first and the 
 nearest it makes like itself ; the one good creates many other 
 goods ; the one simplicity and unity which is higher than 
 all unities, many unities ; the one origin, many origins. 
 For it is unity and origin and goodness and God." 
 
 Let me mention in brief that the development of the 
 theological and cosmological conceptions of the great 
 eastern branch of the Aryan race, the Hindoos, culminated 
 in a similar goal. After the creative fancy of the Hindoos 
 had produced in the Devas a world of bright and eternal 
 gods, it came in its philosophical reflections to a radical 
 denial of the existence of many persons and names of the 
 Deity, and recognized in Brahman a unitary absolute 
 world-soul. The Brahman is no longer an individual ego. 
 It is of neuter gender, rising above distinctions of sex. It 
 is the supra-individual, suprasensuous, suprareal, uni- 
 versal spirit, which reveals itself in the individual soul as a 
 fettered, divided, and sensualized being. " The Atman or 
 Self within thee is the true Brahman, from whom thou 
 wast estranged for a time through birth and death, but 
 who receives thee back again as soon as thou returnest to 
 Him, or to It." It is true, polytheism and sacrificial rites 
 remained undisturbed alongside of this view. The different 
 
Chap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 285 
 
 phases in the evolution of the collective mind are preserved 
 in a very remarkable degree as stages of individual life, 
 and assist us in understanding our own historical world. 
 " Every religious thought that had once found expression 
 in India, that had once been handed down as a sacred heir- 
 loom, was preserved, and the thoughts of the three historical 
 periods, the childhood, the manhood, and the old age of 
 the Indian nation" (represented in literature : childhood, 
 by most of the Yedic hymns ; manhood, by the Brahmanas ; 
 old age, by the Upanishads), " were made to do permanent 
 service in the three stages of the life of every individual." 
 " There are still Brah manic families in which the son learns 
 by heart the ancient hymns, and the father performs day 
 by day his sacred duties and sacrifices, while the grand- 
 father, even though remaining in the village, looks upon 
 all ceremonies and sacrifices as vanity, sees even in the 
 Yedic gods nothing but names of what he knows to be 
 beyond all names, and seeks rest in the highest knowledge 
 only, which has become to him the highest religion, viz., 
 the so-called Yedanta, the end and fulfilment of the whole 
 Yeda." * 
 
 Before we trace the further course of thought in the 
 West, it will be necessary to cast a glance at the second 
 great factor which influences its intellectual life : we mean 
 the growth of the monotheistic conception of the universe 
 in a Semitic tribe, the people of Israel. The goal is reached 
 in the latter case, not in a speculative, but in a practical 
 religious way. This is in accord with the entire disposi- 
 tion of the race, which is diametrically opposed to the 
 temperament of the Hellenic people. While the Greeks are 
 pre-eminently endowed with intelligence, with highly sus- 
 ceptible sensibility, and a surprisingly facile understand- 
 ing, the special gift of the Israelites lies in the earnestness 
 and depth with which they grasp moral and religious facts. 
 The prophets of Israel correspond to the philosophers of 
 the Greeks ; they are characters of austere force and 
 grandeur, the like of whom no other people can produce. 
 From Elijah, who begins the series, down to John the 
 
 *M. Müller, Lectures on the Origin and Growth of Religion, pp. 349, 
 350. 
 
286 TBE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 Baptist, who ends it, the fundamental characteristic com- 
 mon to the prophets is that they obey the voice of God in 
 their hearts and rebuke the world and the people, the rich 
 and the great, those who are powerful at court and with 
 the populace, tradition and custom in conduct and worship ; 
 that they measure the nation by its own standard, which 
 is to be the chosen people of God, and find it wanting : 
 instead of walking in justice, love, and humility before your 
 God, you despise the lowly, devour the substance of 
 widows and orphans, and follow other gods who give scope 
 to the lusts of your hearts. And from the same point of 
 view the prophet interprets history; he shows that the 
 hand of God governs the fate of nations. The philosophy 
 of religion, we might say, is the creation of Israel, as cos- 
 mology and mathematics is that of the Greeks. Of course, 
 it is not a popular science ; its sermons find no well-disposed 
 audience ; hence solitude and exile is the lot of the prophet, 
 and the desert his retreat. 
 
 At their appearance in history, we do not find the 
 people of Israel occupying the standpoint of a theoretical 
 monotheism. Their religion is a practical monotheism of 
 worship, one that may perhaps be best characterized as the 
 worship of one god. The first commandment, " Thou shalt 
 have no other gods before me," does not prohibit the be- 
 lief in other gods, which it rather presupposes, but the 
 worship of them. Israel shall serve Jahwe alone, and he 
 will aid his people against their oppressors. We have 
 scarcely any historical knowledge as to how the Israelites 
 arrived at the exclusive worship of one god from the former 
 polytheism of all Semitic tribes, traces of which are every- 
 where apparent in their traditions. On the other hand, we 
 can follow the development of the worship of one god to 
 monotheism in the literature which we possess. It is the 
 combined work of priests and prophets. It is, moreover, 
 a consequence of the first step : the nation has an interest, 
 as it were, in making its God the only true God ; in mak- 
 ing a world-god of the national God. In the Psalms, in the 
 Prophets, and in Genesis, Jahwe is no longer merely the 
 God of Israel, but absolutely the only true God, the God 
 who created heaven and earth. The gods of other 
 
Chap. II.] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 287 
 
 peoples are mere images made of wood and stone, powerless 
 and unreal idols. We may mention as special phases of 
 tins development, first, the centralization of the worship by 
 the monarchy and priesthood, then the moralization, denat- 
 urization, and finally denationalization of the notion of God 
 by the prophets. Impressed by the great historical ex- 
 periences of their country, the prophets become convinced 
 that Jahwe is not a God who is blindly devoted to the 
 people of Israel and prejudiced in their favor, or that he 
 can be bribed by an external worship. Not the descendants 
 of Abraham, not those who sacrifice at Jerusalem, but the 
 righteous are his people. " Will the Lord be pleased with 
 thousands of rams or with ten thousands of rivers of oil ? 
 And what doth the Lord require of thee but to do justly 
 and to love mercy and to walk humbly with thy God ? " 
 (Micah vi. 7, 8.) If Israel fails to do his will, they are no 
 longer his chosen people ; he will repudiate them. " The 
 prophets were able to see that Jahwe was destroying 
 the nation and the kingdom founded by him. They con- 
 ceived him above everything else as the God of justice. He 
 was the God of Israel only in so far as Israel complied 
 with his demands of justice. They therefore reverse the 
 traditional order of the two fundamental articles of faith. 
 In this manner Jahwe escaped the danger of coming into 
 collision with the world and of being vanquished in the 
 conflict. The dominion of justice extended beyond the 
 jurisdiction of the Assyrians. This is the ethical mono- 
 theism of the prophets ; they believe in the moral order of 
 the world, in the unconditional validity of justice as the 
 highest law for the whole world." * 
 
 The process of denaturization and denationalization of 
 Jewish monotheism was completed in Christianity. Jesus 
 draws the final conclusion : The kingdom of God is not of 
 this world at all. Judaism, even the prophets, clung to 
 the belief that the righteous must succeed in this world ; 
 that the people of Israel would, by serving Jahwe faith- 
 
 * J. Wellhausen, Abriss der Geschichte Israels und Judas, in his Skizzen 
 lind Vorarbeiten, i. 50. For the investigation of the sources and a clear 
 exposition of the development of ceremonies and traditions, see the same 
 author's Geschichte Israels. 
 
288 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 fully, be re-established, that the kingdom of David would 
 be restored. Jesus abandons this Messianic hope ; he also 
 abandons the presupposition of Jewish piety that the just 
 man will ultimately thrive in the world, and the unjust be 
 confounded. " My kingdom is not of this world," nor is 
 the kingdom of God ; it is not at all like the old kingdom 
 of David, nor like anything that impresses the natural man 
 as glorious and grand and desirable. The kingdom of God 
 is in you, a store of blessedness and peace hidden from the 
 world and unappreciated by it ; it has nothing to do with 
 the gifts which the world can give and take away ; earthly 
 poverty and shame are easily compatible with it. The 
 kingdom of God consists in the communion of the believers 
 and the saints, in the community of the disciples of Jesus, 
 who live as strangers scattered over all the kingdoms of 
 the earth, without taking or seeking part therein. And, 
 finally, the kingdom of God is the eternal glory of God in 
 the hereafter, not bounded by time and space : the world 
 which his children will behold long after nature and the 
 universe have passed away. 
 
 Under the influence of these two forms of monotheism, 
 the Jewish-Christian and the Greek, the theological and 
 cosmological conceptions were formed which came to pre- 
 vail in the church, and through it among the European 
 nations. The practical-religious attributes in the notion of 
 God are derived from Israel : God is holy and just, and also 
 gracious and merciful in Christ. From the Greeks come 
 the speculative or metaphysical elements : infinity, omni- 
 science, omnipotence, all-suificiency, in short the qualities 
 which make him the All-One, through whom and in whom 
 everything is that has existence and essence. The theol- 
 ogy and philosophy of the Christian church grew out of the 
 constantly-repeated attempt to combine Greek philosophy 
 and cosmology and the Christian religion into a complete 
 system. The fundamental conception of its philosophy is a 
 monistic theism. The church as a practical institution em- 
 phasizes theism. God is a personal, supranatural, extra- 
 mundane being who comes into personal communion with 
 man ; to the popular mind he appears as a wholly anthro- 
 pomorphic being with feelings and aspirations like a human 
 
Chap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 289 
 
 being. In speculation, however, the monistic element is 
 accentuated. As soon as we endeavor to define a being 
 who originally created all the rest out of nothing, and 
 whose will alone preserves them, it follows that he is the 
 only independent being, and that there is no room for other 
 independent beings alongside of him. "[Monotheism comes 
 to mean that God alone exists ; it becomes pantheism : God 
 is the All-One. 
 
 The entire history of the church shows how these two 
 tendencies, the religous and the speculative, oppose and 
 interpenetrate each other in many ways. Visibly, for in- 
 stance, in Augustine, in whose powerful soul both impulses 
 are strongly developed. Neoplatonism led him out of the 
 labyrinths of Manichseism, and from Neoplatonism he gets 
 his idea of the universal reality of God : there is no being 
 except in God ; outside of him there is only non-being. 
 This acosmistic pantheism merely serves him, however, to 
 use Harnack's words, as a foundation on which to rear the 
 Christian view, which is the result of his own innermost 
 experiences : The highest being is holy goodness acting on 
 the will as almighty love.* 
 
 These thoughts exert a permanent influence upon the 
 entire theology of the "West. Wherever the speculative 
 interest grows more intense, the pantheistic notion is 
 straightway accentuated. This fact is already noticeable 
 in the middle ages ; the church again and again finds occa- 
 sion to take measures against the pantheistic turns which 
 are given to its teachings both on the rationalistic and on 
 the mystical side.f This pantheism became still more 
 
 * A. Harnack, Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte, in. 101 ff. 
 
 f As an illustration of the mystical-pantheistic mode of thought I append 
 the beginning of Die deutsche Theologie (ed. F. Pfeiffer, 1851), a work be- 
 longing to the fourteenth century. " The perfect is a being that contains and 
 completes within itself and its being all beings, and without which and out- 
 side of which no true being exists, and in which all things have their being. 
 For it is the being of all things, and is in itself unchangeable and immov- 
 able, and yet changes and moves all other things. But the divided or the 
 imperfect is that which originates in or grows from this perfect being, like 
 a ray or a beam that emanates from the sun. And that is called a creature. 
 And of all these divided things none is perfect. Nor is the perfect one of 
 the divided things. The things are conceivable, knowable, and expressible ; 
 but the perfect is inconceivable, inexpressible, and unknowable by all 
 
290 TEE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 pronounced when, at the beginning of modern times, the 
 power which the church exercised over education gradually 
 weakened, and the theoretical interest grew in strength. 
 Above all, the great revolution produced in cosmical con- 
 ceptions exerted an influence in the same direction. By 
 destroying the firmament, it deprived the anthropomorphic 
 idea of God of the support of sense-perception. We may 
 say : Wherever philosophy is free to follow its own inclina- 
 tions and is not subjected to the external or internal pres- 
 sure of ecclesiastical systems or, on the other hand, is not 
 under the ban of natural-scientific thought, it is panthe- 
 istic or monotheistic in the sense of the formula : God alone 
 exists, jaoros o -Beos. 
 
 I shall touch upon the main points in the historical 
 development. * 
 
 During the seventeenth century, after the great century 
 of revolution had cleared the way for it, modern thought 
 constructed the first great systems. Descartes and Hobbes 
 may be regarded as the leaders, the former of the theoret- 
 ical, the latter of the practical philosophy of modern times. 
 The metaphysics of Descartes, however, is visibly affected 
 by his desire to reach a system that may not give offence to 
 the church. Hobbes, on the other hand, is above everything 
 else a political and then a natural-scientific thinker, while 
 his metaphysics does not attain to an independent develop- 
 ment. But in Spinoza we have the first great metaphysician 
 of modern times. Begardless of his age and its claims, in 
 the solitude of his attic, he carries out the logical conse- 
 quences of his thought to the bitter end. In clear and exact 
 definitions, his Ethics formulates the doctrine of a consistent 
 pantheism : God is the actual, the one independent being or 
 
 creatures in so far as they are creatures. Hence the perfect has no name, 
 for it is none of these. If the perfect is to be revealed to a creature, the 
 latter's creatureship, egoity, selfhood, and all the like must be lost and anni- 
 hilated." 
 
 * Let me refer the reader to the excellent account of the history of the 
 philosophy of religion in the first volume of O. Pfleiderer's Religionsphilo- 
 sophie (1884). I also mention J. B. Erdmann, Grundriss der Geschichte der 
 Philosophie (3d ed., 1878; tr. under the editorship of W. S. Hough, 1890); 
 R. Falckenberg, Geschichte der neueren Philosophie (2d ed., 1892; tr. by Arm- 
 strong, 1893); R. Eucken, Die Lebensanschauung der grossen Denker (1890). 
 
Chap. II.] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 291 
 
 substance ; tlie world is the immanent evolution of his 
 essence. The objects which popular thought fettered by 
 sense-perception regards as independent beings are not 
 realty independent ; the intellect conceives them as depen- 
 dent determinations of the All-One, modifications of the 
 substance, which have their essence and their existence in 
 it alone. Or if, following the popular usage of language, 
 we* prefer to call God the cause of things, we must add: 
 He is not a cause in the sense in which a particular object 
 is the cause of another that exists independently of it; he 
 is the immanent cause of all things, and hence remains in 
 them, or, rather, they are in him ; he is the cause not only 
 of their form and movement, but also of their essence and 
 existence. But as regards God's own essence, we may say 
 that the two fundamental forms of reality which present 
 themselves to the intellect, the corporeal and the mental 
 worlds, suggest two phases of his being which we may as- 
 cribe to him as attributes — extension and consciousness; 
 and we may, therefore, call God an extended and thinking 
 being (res extensa, res cogitans). But here, too, it must be 
 stated, we are not permitted to use these terms of God in 
 the same sense in which we apply them to objects. God is 
 body, but not like the particular corporeal object, limited, 
 figured, and movable ; he is the unitary principle of the 
 corporeal world. God is a spirit, but not like a particular 
 spirit ; we cannot ascribe thinking, feeling, and willing to 
 him. He is the unitary principle of the conscious world, 
 but the finite qualities which it manifests do not belong to 
 him. 
 
 These definitions are more accurately determined and 
 restricted by their contraries, by anthropomorphic theism 
 on the one hand and materialistic atomism on the other. 
 Spinoza frequently and strongly emphasizes the former 
 antithesis. Popular anthropomorphic theism makes God 
 act according to design, like a man. It is plain that this 
 conception of God is not compatible with monotheism con- 
 sistently carried out. An almighty creator is not at first 
 possessed of empty designs which he afterwards realizes 
 by such and such means ; that is the manner in which 
 unite beings act who make a world that is independent of 
 
292 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 them conform to their thoughts. Creation is specifically 
 distinct from making things according to design. The lat- 
 ter category is peculiar to polytheism : gods are, like men, 
 beings who act upon objects that are not dependent on 
 them for their existence, ab extra and according to design. 
 The notion of creation out of nothing, on the other hand, 
 belongs to monotheism. If God is the only original being 
 and causa sui, his activity can have the form of creation 
 only, which posits the existence and essence of reality, 
 not, however, in the sense of making it independent of him. 
 That is the only thing that God cannot do : he cannot 
 make objects that are independent of himself. Creation is 
 evolution in God. With the formula Deus sive natura* 
 Spinoza opposes the philosophical notion of God to popular 
 thought. 
 
 Less frequently and less strongly does he emphasize 
 the other antithesis, the opposition to atomistic atheism. 
 The reason is most likely that such an antithesis hardly 
 existed in the philosophy of his age. Had Spinoza fore- 
 seen that atheism and naturalism were, for an entire cen- 
 tury, destined to become the catchwords of his philosophy, 
 or had he lived to see our age in which atomistic atheism 
 is so loudly and emphatically proclaimed as the only 
 scientifically-possible world-view, he might perhaps have 
 laid more stress on the convertibility of his formula : 
 Natura sive Deus. To be sure, he might have said, I know 
 nothing of a God who has I know not what reality outside 
 of the world. Nor, conversely, do I know anything of the 
 world which the materialists construct out of innumerable 
 small, absolutely independent substances called atoms. 
 The very first and most certain fact which my intellect 
 affirms of the world is that it is not a mere accidental con- 
 glomeration of many substances, but a unity, in which every 
 particular thing is absolutely determined by the whole, 
 hence one substance, which by its existence and by its 
 essence first makes plurality possible. If that is mono- 
 theism, and I hardly know what else we could mean by the 
 term unless we are willing to relapse into the conceptions 
 of polytheism, which regards the gods as individuals 
 
€hap. II.] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 293 
 
 among others, then my system is complete monotheism : 
 God, the One and the All. 
 
 Of course, he would not have succeeded in convincing 
 his contemporaries. They would have gone on accusing 
 him of confounding God with nature, of atheism and natu- 
 ralism. Words, Hobbes once said, serve not merely to 
 define concepts, but also to express judgments. Though 
 the term atheism is unsuited to characterize Spinoza's view 
 of the world, it was well fitted to express and arouse 
 repugnance. For a whole century the Ethics was the most 
 notorious philosophical work in existence, a liber horrendus, 
 and its author a man with the mark of reprobation on his 
 brow. 
 
 The two philosophers whom the eighteenth century 
 follows are Locke and Leibniz. Both repudiate Spinoza, 
 Leibniz explicitly, Locke tacitly. Both seek a philosophy 
 — and have according to the conviction of their age found 
 it — that better reconciles the modern scientific truths with 
 the old faith. 
 
 Leibniz's system is absolutely determined by his rela- 
 tion to Spinoza. In his younger years he had been con- 
 siderably and positively influenced by that bold and vigor- 
 ous thinker, and had, in particular, clearly recognized the 
 metaphysical consequences of the Cartesian philosophy of 
 nature. But after his youthful impetus philosophandi had 
 been moderated by the prudence and discretion of the 
 politician, his chief concern became to free his thought 
 from the " profane " Spinoza and his unacceptable views.* 
 That is the mission of the monads — they are to overcome 
 pantheism ; Spinoza would be right, s'il rCy avait point de 
 monades. The monads step between God and nature and 
 keep them from merging into each other. The monads are 
 the ultimate, independent elements of reality, metaphysical 
 points, unextended, spiritual atoms. In themselves or for 
 the understanding they are characterized by inner life 
 (sensation and desire) ; looked at from without, in the con- 
 fused presentation of sensibility, a combination of monads 
 
 * A detailed account of the relation between these philosophers, based 
 on original sources, has recently been set forth in the work of L. Stein, 
 
 Leibniz und Spinoza (1890). 
 
294 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGIOAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 is represented as an extended body. The monads, there- 
 fore, possess the two attributes of the Spinozistic substance, 
 cogitatio and extensio, spirituality and materiality, so, how- 
 ever, that spirituality constitutes their essence, while ma- 
 teriality is merely their phenomenon. Spinoza, on the other 
 hand, regarded both aspects as of equal importance ; in- 
 deed, in so far as corpus and res are universally assumed 
 to be equivalent, extension, as it were, receives more reality 
 than the other factor.* The monads further resemble 
 Spinoza's substance in that each evolves its essence from 
 within outwardly, without being affected from without ; 
 hence it is, in a certain measure, causa sui. True, this 
 evolution takes place in pre-established harmony with the 
 development of all the other monads. 
 
 There can be no doubt, this view absolutely overcomes 
 pantheism. The one macrocosmic substance of Spinoza is 
 broken up into countless microcosmic substances, each of 
 which can exist and be considered by itself ; indeed, each 
 would have to look upon itself as the absolute substance. 
 But, one feels inclined to say, the work is done too 
 thoroughly. From the Scylla of pantheism we are drawn 
 into the Charybdis of atomism and atheism. And now 
 Leibniz tries to ward off the danger by adding to the many 
 substances of which reality consists, a " necessary sub- 
 stance " whose " essence involves existence," and then goes 
 on to assert : This substance, called God, is " the original 
 unity or the original substance ; all created or derivative 
 monads are its products and are produced, from moment 
 to moment, by constant radiations, as it were." f 
 
 Well, Spinoza would declare, if you really mean what 
 you say, we can easily agree. Then your original sub- 
 stance is simply what I call absolute substance, and its- 
 fulgurations, the common monads, are somewhat similar to 
 my modi, and I shall willingly concede relative indepen- 
 
 * Spinoza explains mens by corpus: it is nothing but the idea of a definite 
 individual body which is its object {Eth., II. 11, 13). Leibniz conversely ex- 
 plains corpus by mens; if mens is, in the former case, nihil aliud quam idea cor- 
 poris, corpus is, in the latter, nihil aliud quam idea mentis, or, he might also 
 say, mens phenomenon sive objective existens. 
 
 t Monadology,§% 38 ff. Opera phiiosophica, ed. Erdmann, p. 708. 
 
Chap. II.] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 295 
 
 dence and unity to them. And I likewise find no essential 
 difference in our determinism. There is no mention in 
 my system of mechanical necessity (necessite brute) ; it is a 
 conceptual-mathematical, hence ideal, necessity — a concept 
 from which, as far as I can see, you have not rid yourself 
 either. Indeed, the maximum of compossible reality or 
 perfection is ascertained and produced in your case also 
 by a kind of conceptual calculus in the intellectus infinitus, 
 by a " metaphysical mechanics." I do not care to dispute 
 over names, much less to sail under the colors of ortho- 
 doxy. 
 
 Locke sought and found a new way of reconciling 
 modern science with the church doctrine. Not metaphysics 
 but the epistemological critique of metaphysics appeared 
 to him as the right path to the goal. It shows that our 
 knowledge is necessarily confined to experience. Experi- 
 ence, however, does not comprehend and exhaust reality, 
 hence there is room for faith alongside of science. This is 
 the view which was universally accepted in England even 
 in the nineteenth century. Not seldom it assumed a 
 somewhat pitiful form : strict abstinence in thought, 
 joined with ecclesiastical and political orthodoxy, became 
 the basis of social respectability. The dogma of such 
 abstemious and respectable persons is : On the one hand 
 we have the sciences, mathematics and plrysics, psychology 
 and " Essays on the Human Understanding "; on the other, 
 we have the Thirty-nine Articles. But we have no meta- 
 physics, nor do we need or care for metaphysics; the 
 Thirty-nine Articles will serve us in their stead. Upon 
 them rests the church, and the church is a part of " the 
 best constitution." Whoever fails to see that, is past help ; 
 he is suspected of not belonging to the respectable mem- 
 bers of society. Hence nothing further is to be said on this 
 point. The most one may do is to prove, on every hand, the 
 necessity and impregnability of the church doctrine by 
 adducing philosophical, natural-scientific, and historical 
 evidences. Locke's empiricism and positivism paved the 
 way for such intellectual abstemiousness. He has, at the 
 same time, shown us how a man may, on occasion, produce 
 an orthodox metaphysics in spite of his principient con- 
 
298 THE C0SM0L0GICAL-THE0L0Q1CAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 tinence : lie tries to prove the existence of an " eternal, 
 most powerful and most knowing being " witli " mathemat- 
 ical certainty " {Essay, iv. 10), an undertaking for which he 
 drew upon himself Kant's severe but not undeserved 
 censure. 
 
 This initiates the philosophy of conciliation which pre- 
 vailed during the eighteenth century. Leibniz's name is 
 famous in Germany, Locke's in England, and soon after 
 also in France. Both endeavor to reconcile the modern 
 sciences with the old system of dogmatics. Both turn 
 away from the scholasticism still dominating the uni- 
 versities, both are adherents and lovers of the modern 
 sciences, but both also prove the reasonableness of faith. 
 Leibniz writes de la conformite de lafoi avec la raison, Locke 
 proves the reasonableness of Christianity. The chief articles 
 of the creed, the existence of God and the immortality of the 
 soul, philosophy can prove with the means at its disposal ; 
 in addition to these there are, of course, also articles of faith 
 which it cannot prove, and which are derived from revela- 
 tion. But even here philosophy may accomplish some- 
 thing ; if it cannot certify their truth, it may at least prove 
 that they are possible : fides non contra, sed supra rationem. 
 Leibniz frequently mentions as one of the many advantages 
 of his philosophy the fact that it leaves room for the pos- 
 sibility of transsubstantiation, in the interest of harmony 
 with Catholicism. 
 
 The science which deals with the articles of faith 
 that are demonstrable by reason only is the so-called 
 natural or rational theology, which is distinguished from 
 the theologia revelata. The former constitutes the principal 
 part of the philosophy of the last century. It demonstrates, 
 first, the existence of God, on theoretical and practical 
 grounds. The theoretical reasons are comprehended in the 
 two arguments which Kant distinguishes as the cosmological 
 and physico-theological arguments. From the dependence 
 and contingency of the natural world, the cosmological 
 proof infers the existence of an unconditioned and necessary 
 being ; and with the aid of the physico-theological reflec- 
 tion, the nature of this being is then more accurately de- 
 fined by the predicates, wisdom and goodness. By setting 
 
Chap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 297 
 
 forth the reign of law in the universe, on the one hand, and 
 gaining a deeper insight into the teleology of organic forms, 
 on the other, the modern sciences themselves subserve the 
 interests of a " rational" theology. 
 
 In the second place, philosophy proves the immortality 
 of the soul. The simplicity of the soul is inferred from the 
 unity of self-consciousness ; then its indissolubility and in- 
 destructibility are deduced from the nature of a simple, 
 immaterial substance and identified with immortality. 
 Practical reasons are added. The desire for a further 
 development of the capacities preformed in man, and the 
 demand for retributive justice, presuppose a future life 
 and a judge after death. Nay, even ordinary honesty and 
 the existence of civil society could not be secured without 
 such a faith. The audacious statement, "If there were 
 no God, we should have to invent one," expresses this 
 thought, which, by the way, has not become extinct in our 
 own age. 
 
 That is the cosmology of the age of enlightenment. 
 It is a compromise between theology and the modern 
 sciences. Modern thought, the product of the modern 
 sciences, makes this concession to theism : God is a supra- 
 mundane being, who made the world and human beings 
 according to plan and design, and prescribed to them 
 his law. Theology, in turn, concedes the uniformity of 
 nature. Although philosophy, should occasion demand, 
 has a place for miracles (supra non contra rationem), which 
 formerly constituted the chief proof of religion, they 
 are gradually abandoned as a part of the old faith that is 
 no longer compatible with the spirit of the times. A 
 miraculous providence, as old Samuel Reimarus points 
 out in the same chapter in which he shows " the nimsiness 
 of the doubts against divine providence," would be both 
 against the perfection of God and his works and not ad- 
 vantageous to man himself, nor conducive to his perfection 
 or his virtue." * And theology itself gradually learns, first, 
 
 * S. Reimarus, Lie vornehmsten Wahrheiten der natürlichen Religion, eh. 
 ix. §§ 14 ff. Reimarus is also, as is known, the author of the Wolfenbüt- 
 tel fragments. The two phases of the philosophy of the last century, the 
 one facing " natural" religion and the one averted from "revealed" relig- 
 ion, are very distinctly exemplified in him. 
 
298 TEE COSMOLOQICAL-THEOLOQIGAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 to do without miracles, and finally, in pronounced rational- 
 ism, to grow ashamed of them and to discard them alto- 
 gether. 
 
 This compromise was again dissolved towards the end 
 of the eighteenth century. It had been introduced both by 
 a German and an English thinker. It was dissolved by a 
 similar combination ; Hume and Kant mark its end. Kant's 
 Critique of Pure Reason (1781) and Hume's posthumous 
 Dialogues on Natural Religion (1780) appeared almost simul- 
 taneously. Both works subject natural religion, or rather 
 philosophical theology, to a scorching criticism : the so- 
 called rational theology is a pseudo-science ; it is in no 
 wise possible to prove the existence of an extramundane 
 creator of the world and the immortality of the soul, on 
 rational grounds. 
 
 Hume starts out from an empirical epistemology ; hence 
 he does not dwell on a priori proofs. The only attempt at 
 a proof is the teleological argument ; but it too lacks all 
 the requirements of a real proof. The origin of a universe 
 is an event absolutely beyond our experience ; there is no 
 similarity whatever between human art and creation out of 
 nothing. The purpose of the world is by no means patent 
 to us. Whatever conception of the design of the creator 
 we may form, — happiness, civilization, or the perfection of 
 living beings, — reality offers an infinite number of objections 
 to it. If we were informed of the existence of an all-wise 
 and all-good creator in some other way, we should attribute 
 such riddles to the limitatioDS of our knowledge. But ra- 
 tional theology has no right to appeal to that ; its very aim 
 is to derive the nature of the creator from the given world 
 itself. We can, however, draw conclusions only from what 
 we know, not from what we do not know. 
 
 Kant proceeds from a different starting-point, but he 
 comes to the same conclusion : all attempts to prove the 
 existence of God and the immortality of the soul on ra- 
 tional grounds are futile. He takes up the reasons in their 
 order and shows their absolute insufficiency. To infer from 
 the unity of consciousness the simplicity of a soul-substance 
 and then from this to infer its indestructibility and the 
 continuance of personal life and consciousness is simply 
 
Chap. II.] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 299 
 
 begging the question. Nor does the ontological argument 
 for the existence of God amount to more. From the notion 
 of God it tries to prove his existence ; the definition of the 
 ens realissimum includes all positive predicates, hence also 
 existence. But existence is not a conceptual characteristic 
 like weight, magnitude, wisdom, and goodness; it conse- 
 quently cannot be deduced from the concept of the subject 
 by means of an analytical judgment. All the propositions 
 concerning existence are synthetic and can be verified only 
 by experience. The cosmological proof passes from a con- 
 ditioned to an unconditioned, and seeks the latter in a 
 being whose existence is not determined by another being, 
 but necessary in itself. But the causal regressus invariably 
 carries us only to a conditioning cause ; the problem then 
 becomes to inquire into its conditions. It is pure caprice 
 to stop raising the question at some point or other and to as- 
 sert that we have arrived at the unconditioned. Experience^ 
 at least, can never reveal the same. Hence it would have 
 to be known through its concept as a being necessary in 
 itself. The cosmological proof consequently resolves 
 itself into the ontological proof. Moreover, however far 
 the physico-theological argument may take us, it surely 
 does not go beyond the notion of a world-architect govern- 
 ing our limited sphere of experience. It does not ca»rry us. 
 to the church dogma that God created all things out of 
 nothing. It is, furthermore, doubtful whether the entire 
 teleology of nature is more than a subjective reflection, 
 conforming to the nature of our understanding. Hence 
 scientific knowledge acquired by speculative reason is out 
 of the question here. 
 
 Hume stops at the negative result ; he merely intimates 
 incidentally that if he had to decide in favor of any cos- 
 mological view, he would esteem none more plausible than 
 that of the ancient philosophers, " which ascribes an eternal 
 inherent principle of order to the world" (Sixth Dialogue). 
 Now Kant, in whose system, let it be added, the old idealis- 
 tic-pantheistic metaphysics everywhere shines through the 
 epistemological conception — he never wholly abandoned the 
 thought elaborated in the treatise on The Only Possible 
 Foundation for a Demonstration of the Existence of God (1763), 
 
300 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 that God is the total unity of all that is possible and hence 
 of all that is real, which can be conceived merely as a 
 limitation of his being — Kant joined to the negative conclu- 
 sion reached in the Critique of Pure Reason the positive 
 results of his practical philosophy. The ideas of God, 
 freedom, and immortality, whose reality cannot be demon- 
 strated to the understanding, are nevertheless the most 
 certain elements of a cosmology that bases itself on the 
 facts of practical reason. They are not concepts that have 
 theoretical value, concepts by means of which we can con- 
 ceive and understand nature. Nothing can be accom- 
 plished with the notion of God in physics, nor with that of 
 freedom in history. But nature is not reality in itself ; it 
 is nothing but the sum-total of possible phenomena. In 
 the notion of duty we are confronted with an order of the 
 universe which we are inwardly constrained to accept as 
 absolutely valid. Thus arises the idea of an absolute 
 world-order, which is higher and, as it were, more real 
 than the natural order ; the practical reason in us makes 
 us a part of this world-order. 
 
 We may say : This thought of Kant's is the revival and 
 complete realization of the original tendency of the Luth- 
 eran Reformation, the separation of religious faith from 
 theoretical knoivledge. What repelled Luther in scholasti- 
 cism, that is, in the theology taught in all the universities 
 and sanctioned by the church, was the amalgamation of the 
 word of God (the Bible) with the philosophy of the " godless 
 heathen" Aristotle. To banish reason from theology and 
 to make faith independent was his first concern. But the 
 undertaking was premature ; soon Protestant theology also 
 began to construct dogmatic systems in which metaphy- 
 sics and revelation were cemented into a harmonious whole. 
 And that can be easily understood. The entire science 
 and philosophy of the middle ages, their geocentric cos- 
 mology and the anthropomorphic conception of the universe 
 consequent thereon, their ecclesiocentric interpretation of 
 history, — all these facts urgently demanded that faith be 
 based on the scientific knowledge of the world. First, the 
 foundations of the mediseval conception of the universe had 
 to be demolished. As long as they continued to stand, 
 
Chap. II.] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 301 
 
 their philosophy and " natural " theology could not be 
 shaken. This happened gradually in the course of the cen- 
 turies following Luther. The Copernican cosmology slowly 
 came to the front during the seventeenth century ; modern 
 physical, physiological, and biological conceptions began 
 to spread ; the historical horizon was widened by a closer 
 contact with the Eastern and Western worlds, the world 
 of the past and the world of the future. Everywhere the 
 discovery of new facts was bursting asunder the framework 
 of the mediaeval system. From this altered state of affairs 
 Kant skilfully deduced the consequence : the scientific 
 knowledge of the universe, in the form which it has as- 
 sumed, cannot be employed as the substructure of faith. 
 If religious faith is to remain, it must be established on a 
 new basis, and this can be furnished by the facts of the 
 moral world alone. Luther's aim had been to base faith 
 on the written letter and on authenticated historical facts. 
 Kant bases it on a fact that is eternally alive and present, 
 on the moral consciousness. This and this alone carries 
 us beyond the order of nature, not, however, by means of 
 knowledge and proofs, but by practical faith. Here the 
 demand of the Reformation is actually carried out. Eaith 
 is not grounded on philological and historical arguments 
 adduced from canonical books, nor on physical and meta- 
 physical speculation, nor even on external authority ; it 
 rests on itself. The will to do good is the ground of our 
 faith in the good, that is, in God. 
 
 It is not easy for our age to form an adequate idea of 
 the extent of the revolution which the critical philosophy 
 created in the minds of men. Natural theology was the 
 basis of the entire thought of the eighteenth century ; in- 
 deed, it seemed to be the basis of its whole life ; to tamper 
 with it meant to turn all divine and human order upside 
 down. Listen to so liberal-minded a man as Wieland * : 
 " The belief in God, not only as the first original cause of all 
 things, but also as the absolute and highest law-giver, 
 regent and judge of mankind, together with the belief in a 
 future state after death, constitutes the fundamental article 
 
 * Über den Gebrauch der Vernunft in Glaubenssachen in the Deutscher 
 Merkur of 1788 (Works, Hempel's ed., xxxn. 336 f.). 
 
302 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 of religion. To strengthen and support this belief in all 
 possible ways is one of the worthiest and most useful 
 occupations of philosophy, nay, in view of the indispensa- 
 bleness of faith, a duty. To assail it and weaken its 
 hold on the hearts of men, by all kinds of doubts and 
 sophistical reasons, or, what is worse, to overthrow it, not 
 only does no good, but virtually amounts to a public attack 
 on the fundamental constitution of the state, of which relig- 
 ion forms an esseutial part, and on public peace and secu- 
 rity, of which it is the support. Hence I have no scruples 
 against giving the following h amble advice to the king or 
 prince who might ask my advice concerning such matters, 
 say in about fifty years from now (a thing hardly to be 
 expected) : The foolish and offensive controversies against 
 the existence of God or against its accepted proofs, when no 
 better ones can be adduced, as well as the public denial of 
 the immortality of the soul, ought to be declared an 
 outrage against humanity and against civil society, and 
 should be prohibited by a special penal enactment." * 
 
 The remonstrances of the older generation were in vain. 
 Kant had understood his age and its deepest need. The 
 younger generation felt that the word of deliverance had 
 been spoken, that the fetters imposed by the compromise 
 between science and faith were burst asunder, that science 
 might, from now on, fearlessly finish its journey, and that 
 religion held a permanent place in the human heart. Ee- 
 joicing in her newly-acquired freedom, philosophy at once 
 began with zealous rivalry to construct idealistic-panthe- 
 istic systems. The philosophy of the nineteenth century, 
 and in particular German philosophy as the boldest and 
 freest, is thoroughly pantheistic or monotheistic in the 
 sense of the formula : God alone is ; everything that exists 
 is and must be conceived in God. 
 
 *From Feder's auto biography (J. G. H. Feders Leben, Natur und 
 Grundsätze, 1825) we may glean how deeply the revolution penetrated into 
 all personal and university affairs. Feder had for a long time been a popu- 
 lar and illustrious teacher of philosophy at the University of Göttingen. 
 But the rise of Kantian philosophy in the eighties brought him into such 
 discredit among his colleagues and students that he voluntarily resigned 
 his position and left the town. His experience helps us to understand why 
 it was that the Prussian rulers succeeding the great Frederick became so 
 apprehensive and prohibited Kant's religio-philosophical lectures. 
 
 
€hap. II.] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 303 
 
 It is, moreover, worthy of note that the poets were in 
 advance of the philosophers. Lessing, Herder, and Goethe 
 advocated the philosophy of Spinoza, while the philoso- 
 phers (see, for example, the outline of the history of 
 natural theology in Feder's Logik und Metaphysik) were still 
 speaking of him " as of a dead dog." In a conversation 
 held a year before his death, Lessing made the following 
 confession to Jacobi : " I can no longer accept the orthodox 
 notions of the deity, I can't swallow them. "Ev koli nav. 
 I know nothing else ! " And when his perplexed friend 
 replied that he had come to him for help against Spinoza, 
 Lessing answered :. " You had better become his friend 
 altogether. There is no other philosophy outside of 
 Spinoza's." * Herder follows with his treatise, Gott, 
 einige Gedanken über Spinoza's System (1787). And Goethe's 
 early poems are thoroughly saturated with a pantheistic 
 adoration and conception of nature. 
 
 "Was war ein Gott, der nur von aussen stiesse, 
 Im Kreis das All am Finger laufen Hesse. 
 Ihm ziemt's die Welt im Innern zu bewegen, 
 Natur in sich, sich in Natur zu hegen. 
 So dass was in ihm lebt und webt und ist, 
 Nie seine Kraft und seinen Geist vergisst. 
 
 The storm and stress in literature is followed by storm 
 and stress in philosophy. New states and dynasties were 
 springing up each year and disappearing again during the 
 political revolution of the age. So in Germany each spring 
 gave birth to a new speculative philosopher and to a new 
 system claiming absolute and universal dominion. They 
 all show their contempt for the old theological and philo- 
 sophical orthodoxy, and agree as to the direction along 
 which to seek the new truth. The old philosophy is deisti- 
 cal t the new, pantheistical monotheism. Deism conceives 
 God as a supramundane being ; he made the world and 
 everything in it according to a plan, and separated it from 
 himself ; now it works in obedience to natural laws, not 
 unlike a machine set up by a skilful machinist for a definite 
 purpose. This idea of God and the world strikes modern 
 
 * F. H. Jacobi, Über die Lehre des Spinoza in Briefen an Herrn Moses 
 Mendelssohn, 1785. 
 
304 THE COSMOLOGIÖAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 philosophers as exceedingly shallow and vulgar ; it is of a 
 piece with the same shallow rationalism that derives every- 
 thing in the historico-mental realm from individual plan and 
 design : Language and religion, laws and states, were all 
 of them devised and realized by inventive men because of 
 their great usefulness, and it was likewise the utility or 
 convenience of the thing which, according to the notions of 
 rational aesthetics, induced poets to make poems, artists to 
 paint, musicians to compose music. And even now these 
 enlightened creatures are on the point of inventing the per- 
 fect education and devising the perfect constitution where- 
 with to make the perfect man. They resemble Wagner, 
 who produced the homunculus in the retort, without the aid 
 of the vulgar forces of nature, simply as the result of intel- 
 ligence and art. This one picture of theirs serves them as 
 a pattern for their conception of God : he is the great me- 
 chanician who devised and constructed this great puppet- 
 show of a world. 
 
 Contempt for the preceding view is the chief character- 
 istic of the new epoch. It opposes its organic conception 
 of the universe to the mechanical system of the Aufklärung. 
 The notion of making things according to design is dis- 
 carded and replaced by the idea of organic development. 
 The change is first brought about in the field of sesthetics. 
 Art and poetry are not manufactured according to plan, 
 that is, genuine and original art and poetry, for the verses 
 composed by the prqfessores poeseos and their pupils to 
 commemorate the birthdays of high personages and other 
 events, may, perhaps, be made with the help of Gott- 
 sched's Dichtkunst or some other rational guide. But real 
 poetry grows from within, like an organic form, unfolding 
 with inner necessity. That is true of all folk-poetry ; it is 
 true of the grandest poetry of the popular soul, its religion. 
 It is especially Herder who teaches the new conception of 
 historico-mental things, and Goethe is the living manifesta- 
 tion of the poet by the grace of God or by the grace of 
 nature. The new way of looking at everything culminates 
 in the new notion of God, in Spinoza's notion : God, the All- 
 One, who reveals himself in nature and history. Like an 
 organism or like a poetical idea, God's essence is unfolded 
 
Chap. II.] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 305 
 
 with inward assthetico-teleological necessity into the mani- 
 fold forms of reality. The business of philosophy is to set 
 forth this process of self-evolution of the absolute by means 
 of the dialectical self-development of the notion. 
 
 It was Fichte who first marshalled the new thoughts 
 against the old ideas. While Kant had treated the deistic 
 conceptions of God and immortality sparingly, and had re- 
 admitted them into his system without any real modifica- 
 tion, by simply changing the key, as it were — they are not 
 theoretically valid notions, but practically necessary ideas — 
 Fichte attempts to get rid of them altogether, regarding 
 them, as he does, as useless, nay, as worthless. According 
 to him they are derived from eudsemonism, and that seals 
 their doom : God is according to natural theology an in- 
 dividual by the side of other beings, and his real mission is 
 to procure happiness for the sensuous man in this life or 
 at least in the life to come. Fichte's rigorous, not to say 
 fanatical, moralism revolts against this notion. Such a 
 God is not a God, but an idol ; God is in the moral world 
 only ; in the voice of duty speaking in thy heart the supra- 
 sensuous reveals itself, and that is God. But again to make 
 of the suprasensuous being a separate substance, that is, 
 as critical philosophy would put it, a being existing and 
 acting in space and time, whose object is to procure happi- 
 ness, is an utterly contradictory and impossible undertak- 
 ing. In his Appeal to the Public, in which he defends himself 
 against the charge of atheism, he sharply accentuates the 
 opposition between the new philosophy and the old philo- 
 sophical orthodoxy, and hurls the most violent accusations 
 against the latter. Eudsemonistic dogmatism, whose cos- 
 mology is a natural theology, those philosophers who 
 " conceive the infinite one under a finite notion and admire 
 the wisdom of God for having arranged everything exactly 
 as they themselves would have done," or make of him a 
 judge of the world who punishes vice and rewards virtue 
 with happiness, thereby achieving the distinction "of ob- 
 viating the imperfections of the police system," — those are 
 the real atheists. "A God who is to satisfy covetous- 
 ness is a despicable, wicked being, for he encourages and 
 perpetuates human corruption and the degradation of 
 
306 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 reason. Such a God is a prince of the world in the real 
 sense." This is the God whom they serve ; " hence they 
 are the real atheists, they are absolutely without God, and 
 have made for themselves a vicious idol. And because I 
 refuse to acknowledge their idol instead of the true God, 
 they call me an atheist." 
 
 The great crisis brought about in Fichte's life by his 
 attitude towards the prevailing views, his dismission from 
 the Jena professorship and his removal to Berlin, also 
 marks a turning-point in his thought. True, his funda- 
 mental conception remains the same. The starting-point 
 and fulcrum of every cosmology that rises beyond the phy- 
 sical view is determined by the experiences of moral life ; 
 they lead to a belief in a suprasensuous being that cannot, 
 however, be conceived as an individual being or as a 
 separate substance. But he executes a change of front. 
 Hitherto his attacks had been directed against the philo- 
 sophical and theological orthodoxy of the state-church, 
 now they are turned against the negative enlightenment. 
 Thus his expositions receive a more positive character. In 
 his Speeches he explains the true nature of God and of 
 divine life to " an educated public " who seem to him to 
 have not too many, but too few, articles of faith. 
 
 In the year of the atheism-conflict (1799) there appeared 
 also Schleiermacher's Reden über die Religion an die Gebil- 
 deten unter ihren Verächtern (Discourses on Keligion ad- 
 dressed to the Educated among those who despise it). 
 They no less emphatically renounce the traditional notions 
 of the philosophical church-orthodoxy. Eeligion does not 
 originate in dogma or in action, but in feeling ; in feeling 
 the finite becomes immediately aware of the infinite and the 
 eternal. Every true feeling that springs from the fulness 
 of the heart and turns toward the whole of things is religious. 
 The emotions of awe, admiration, joy, love, gratitude, 
 humility, and reverence, which are aroused by a contact 
 with nature and humanity, excite piety, in so far as, in and 
 with these particular feelings, " we are affected by the 
 whole, which is the revelation of God, and hence take up, 
 not particular and finite elements, but God himself, in whom 
 alone the particular is One and All, and in so far as not this 
 
Chap II.] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 307 
 
 or that particular function, but our entire being, with which 
 we approach the world and live in it, the immediate divine 
 element in us, is aroused and revealed by the feeling." On 
 the other hand, " the common conception of God as a par- 
 ticular being outside of the world and in back of the world 
 is not the alpha and omega of religion ; it is simply a mode 
 of expression that is seldom absolutely pure and always 
 unsatisfactory. "Whoever constructs such a notion with 
 impure intent, say because he needs a being like that to 
 console and help him, may believe in such a god without 
 being devout. Nor is the goal and character of a religious 
 life determined by the immortality which many desire and 
 believe in, the immortality outside of time and behind time, 
 or rather only coming after the present time, but none the 
 less in time ; they are determined by the immortality 
 which we may immediately possess even in our temporal 
 life and which is a problem in whose solution we are con- 
 stantly engaged. The immortality of religion means : to be 
 united with the infinite in the midst of the finite and to be 
 eternal at every moment of time." 
 
 In Schelling, moralistic pantheism is followed by a 
 naturalistic pantheism. Nature is for him not a mere reflec- 
 tion of the ego, but, as with Spinoza, one side of reality ; 
 the other side is spirit, the evolution of which constitutes 
 history. The system of identity, as it exists, say in the 
 lectures on the system of philosophy delivered in 1804, is 
 so dependent on Spinoza's conceptions that almost every 
 sentence of the Ethics recurs in it. Schelling regards it as 
 his immediate task to raise the science of nature from the 
 deplorable condition into which it seems to the young 
 philosopher to have fallen, to transform the heap of acci- 
 dental and scattered truths into a system of rational 
 knowledge. The object is to demonstrate the whole of nat- 
 ure as a unified system governed by inner logical and ses- 
 thetical necessity, or to reveal the reason inherent in nature. 
 
 Hegel's philosophy, finally, has not inappropiately 
 been termed logical pantheism. In an all-embracing system 
 it aims to conceive nature and history as the self-develop- 
 ment of the idea, which takes place, with inner logical or 
 dialectical necessity, as the self-development of the ideal 
 
308 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I, 
 
 content of reality. In the mind of the poet a plurality of 
 incidents, actions, and persons are evolved from the idea of 
 a poem, of Hamlet or of Faust, and finally constitute a 
 complete whole in which each particular element has its 
 fixed place. Similarly, the world or reality, which is un- 
 folded before us in nature and history, is a unified whole, 
 in which the position of each particular element is deter- 
 mined with logical and sesthetical necessity. We think we 
 understand a poem when we see how each scene or each 
 event is essential to the exposition of the one idea, and that 
 something would be wanting if it were left out. So, too, 
 we would have a perfect knowledge of the great divine 
 poem which we call the world, if we could, in the same 
 manner, set forth each natural form and force, each histori- 
 cal product, as an inner element essential to the exposi- 
 tion of the whole. The natural sciences do not accomplish 
 this, indeed they do not even attempt it. The natural 
 sciences collect facts and seek to reduce them to formulae 
 which simply express external connections, the causal laws ; 
 but they let the facts and laws stand as blind, brutal facts. 
 Nor do historical investigations act otherwise ; they, too, 
 gather together endless masses of facts ; they also attempt 
 a kind of causal explanation, but the question concerning 
 the meaning of the facts they do not answer, nay, they do 
 not even put it. Now that is the function of philosophy. 
 What is the meaning of nature ? In what does the inner 
 necessity of all those processes and their laws, the mechan- 
 ical, chemical, and organic occurrences, consist ? What is 
 the meaning of history as a whole ; what is the reason ex- 
 pressed in it ? Wherefore did all these nations, the Chinese 
 and the Hindoos, the Persians and the Egyptians, the Greeks 
 and the Romans, have to pass over the earth and develop 
 such states and laws, such religions and arts ? These are 
 the questions which Hegel's philosophy attempts to answer. 
 It desires to tell what each particular object really is, by 
 revealing its raison d'etre in the whole of things. And by 
 thus unfolding the reason pervading the entire universe, the 
 idea of reality, it sets forth God's very essence and life : 
 God is nothing but the one, actual, living thought of the 
 universe evolving into self-consciousness. Nor is reality 
 
€hap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 309 
 
 anything else, that is, reality as it is in itself : it is the 
 active idea unfolding itself, comprehending itself in self- 
 consciousness. There is no such thing in reality as a dead, 
 inert, merely existent being outside of the idea ; this 
 occurs onty in the barren notions of a philosophy dealing 
 with abstractions. And therefore the world is exhausted 
 by the thoughts of the true philosophy, because it is itself a 
 thought. Thus, in Hegel, modern philosophy returns to its 
 starting-point in Platonic-Aristotelian philosophy : Reality 
 is a system of thoughts expanding into self-consciousness, 
 ror/ais vorjaeoos ; philosophy is the reflection of the ob- 
 jective movement of thought. 
 
 The time has long passed since these conceptions 
 dominated the intellectual world of Germany, since the 
 youth, always eager for novelty, were gathered together to 
 experience the moment of the awakening of the absolute 
 spirit into complete self-consciousness. The dialectical 
 reproduction of the self-movement of the idea is a thing of 
 the past. We can hardly understand the belief that 
 Schelling's or Hegel's philosophy explains the inner neces- 
 sity of history and nature as a good interpreter elucidates 
 a drama of Shakespeare or Goethe. We cannot see much 
 more in it than an arbitrary schematic arrangement of the 
 general forms of reality. And we wonder at the arrogance 
 with which such vague reflections on the world at large, 
 which, like passing mists, assume all kinds of shapes, 
 attack scientific inquiry, as though they had achieved a 
 task infinitely more important and dignified. 
 
 One thing, however, German philosophy retained : the 
 view of the whole of reality from which speculation set 
 out. We look for the completion of the thoughts which 
 the contemplation of reality suggests to us along the same 
 lines : an idealistic monotheism or pantheism is the goal to- 
 wards which the thoughts of the most vigorous and careful 
 thinkers converge even to this day. Fechner and Lotze 
 may be mentioned as leaders. Lotze endeavors to approach 
 the goal by means of abstract-metaphysical reasoning ; he 
 appeals to historico-philosophical and religio-philosoph- 
 ical reflections for assistance. Fechner remains a philoso- 
 
310 TEE COSMOLOG1CAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 pher of nature ; in the visible world he seeks and univer- 
 sally finds symbols of the invisible. 
 
 More timidly and standing aloof, as it were, the positiv- 
 istic school points to the same goal. Let H. Spencer speak 
 as their representative. In a noteworthy reflection with 
 which he concludes the exposition of the religio-ecclesi- 
 astical development in his Sociology (§ 659 f .) he shows that 
 the results of the scientific investigation of reality by no 
 means mark the end of all religious conceptions : " Amid 
 the mysteries which become the more mysterious the more 
 they are thought about, there will remain the one absolute 
 certainty, that he (the investigator) is ever in presence of an 
 infinite and eternal energy, from which all things proceed.'* 
 What is this energy ? " Consequently the final outcome of 
 that speculation commenced by the primitive man is that the 
 Power manifested throughout the universe distinguished as 
 material, is the same Power which in ourselves wells up 
 under the form of consciousness." " When the explorer of 
 nature sees that, quiescent as they appear, surrounding 
 solid bodies are thus sensitive to forces which are infini- 
 tesimal in their amounts ; when the spectroscope proves to 
 him that molecules on the earth pulsate in harmony with 
 molecules in the stars ; when there is forced on him the 
 inference that every point in space thrills with an infinity 
 of vibrations passing through it in all directions, the 
 conception to which he tends is much less that of a 
 universe of dead matter than that of a universe everywhere 
 alive ; alive if not in the restricted sense, still in a general 
 sense." 
 
 Here too, then, a way is opened for symbolical anthro- 
 pomorphism and the idealizing metaphysical conception 
 which A. Lange, the representative of positivism in Ger- 
 many, regarded as indispensable. Different paths meet at 
 the same goal. 
 
 In conclusion, let us survey the entire course of the long 
 intellectual development and describe it as follows : Relig- 
 ion has gradually eliminated the elements which originally 
 occupied the foreground — theurgic practices and mytho- 
 logico-cosmogonic fictions. In the measure in which civ- 
 ilization advances and the scientific knowledge and the 
 
Chap. IL] EVOLUTION OF THEISM AND COSMOLOGY. 311 
 
 resulting technical control of nature increase, the old forms 
 of sorcery and legendary tales disappear. The ethical 
 element, however, which is in the beginning simply a sec- 
 ondary issue, comes to the front ; the nature of the divine 
 is determined by moral goodness. On the other side, 
 science withdraws more and more from the domain of relig- 
 ion. Dogmatic orthodoxy, which strove to determine the 
 nature of the suprasensuous by means of concepts that 
 seemed at least theoretically demonstrable, has been 
 abandoned like the natural theology of the eighteenth 
 century, which occupied the same ground, only that it still 
 further restricted the sphere of the provable. The philo- 
 sophical speculation which believed that its absolute defini- 
 tions exhausted reality is also given up. Philosophy has 
 grown more modest, but the facts seem to her to suggest 
 the assumption of an ultimate, all-embracing, essential 
 unity of reality, a unity that cannot be external and acciden- 
 tal to a mechanical system, but must be conceived as similar 
 to the inner unity of a spiritual being. But it relinquishes 
 the task of elaborating these thoughts, leaving that to the 
 creative fancy of the religious genius. Like the creative 
 artist, he gives the idea of perfection an intelligible form ; 
 he interprets the meaning of the great mystery which we 
 call reality by words and by deeds, by teaching and by 
 example. 
 
 I am well aware that the course and goal of history are 
 differently conceived by others. Many agree with L. 
 Feuerbach that the great truth reached by our century is : 
 God has not created man, but man created God. To these, 
 my notions will seem old-fashioned and antiquated. 
 
 I have no desire to make any one dissatisfied with his 
 views. Yet I cannot refrain from remarking that the truth 
 of the first statement does not seem to me to exclude 
 the truth of the second. I am quite willing to grant the 
 proposition : Man has created God, in idea namely, and 
 that too in his own image. But the other proposition is 
 not incompatible with this : God created man in his own 
 image, not merely, however, in idea, but also in reality. 
 Man, says the philosophy in question, is a product of 
 nature. Of course he is ; but what is nature ? A great 
 
312 THE C08M0L0GICAL- THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 heap of infinitely small grains of sand? And feeling 
 and thinking beings are to be evolved from these by mere 
 juxtaposition? Surely, in Goethe's words, some anony- 
 mous element must have had a hand in all this. And our 
 philosophers, who think that the days of the belief in God 
 are numbered, will, perhaps, be a little puzzled by the fact 
 that, according to their theory, the growth, transformation, 
 and ultimate rejection of a fantastic conceit constituted the 
 essential element of the entire history of mankind. For it 
 is certainly an indisputable fact that all great historical 
 movements were of a religious nature ; Buddhism, Chris- 
 tianity, Mohammedanism, the Eeformation, these are the 
 greatest themes of the history of the past. Can it be that 
 the world and the human mind are really so strangely con- 
 stituted that when they come in contact this great illusion 
 must ensue ? 
 
 But the future, they say, the whole endless future be- 
 longs to reason purged of prejudice and superstition, 
 belongs to pure knowledge not blinded by fancy and fic- 
 tion. I do not know what the mental content of the future 
 is going to be. Still, should any one declare, The notion 
 that the world is really nothing but a conglomeration of 
 very minute grains of sand will be regarded by future 
 generations as the strangest aberration of the human mind, 
 I should not contradict him. He might say : The remark- 
 able progress of mathematical and physical knowledge, 
 accompanying, as it did, religious intolerance and the polit- 
 ical corruption of religion, for a moment — if we measure 
 time by centuries — so dazzled many minds that they were 
 deluded into the belief that spirit is something absolutely 
 foreign to reality, and that it is an absolute mystery how 
 it ever got into the world. And the judgment of the future 
 will be : Compared with such deluded mortals, who are at 
 the same time possessed of the proud consciousness that 
 they have reached the pinnacle of human culture, the 
 poorest idol-worshipper, who throws himself upon his 
 knees before a spirit which he believes exists in objects, 
 seems like a being who has at least an inkling of the great 
 meaning and value of things. 
 
 I once read a passage from Jean Paul : " How arrogant 
 
Ch. IL] RELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 313 
 
 the clouds are in presuming to belong to the heavens and 
 to the stars, whereas they are not much farther removed 
 from us than our cold breath !" We may apply these same 
 words to the opinions of those who do not see the infinite 
 heavens for the mists of their narrow thoughts, and there- 
 fore claim : There is no such thing as heaven ; it is simply 
 an ancient superstition ; no one has ever seen it. 
 
 The negative dogmatism of materialism is, in my 
 opinion, the mere counterpart of the positive dogmatism 
 of the old theological orthodoxy. Both conceive religion as 
 a collection of dogmas which are to be taken literally and 
 to be accepted by the understanding, only that the former 
 says No wherever the latter says Yes. They are at one in 
 their narrow intellectualism, which fails to appreciate 
 poetry and art. They also often accept the same rigorous 
 moralism that has no appreciation for the individuality and 
 the freedom of the spirit ; they also betray the same im- 
 perious fanaticism that would absolutely subject every- 
 body to its own creeds, be they negative or positive. 
 
 11. The Relation between Knowledge and Faith. 
 
 In conclusion I should like to offer a comprehensive 
 exposition of my idea of the relation between philosophy 
 and religion, knowledge and faith, a subject upon which I 
 have repeatedly touched in the foregoing. 
 
 Philosophy is not religion and cannot take its place. 
 It does not aim to be faith, but knowledge. Nevertheless 
 every philosophy that strives to be a philosophy in the old 
 sense, a conception of the world and of life, also contains 
 an element of faith, which science as such does not contain. 
 The ultimate object of all philosophy is to bring a meaning 
 into things, or rather to reveal the meaning which underlies 
 all things. In the last analysis, however, this meaning is 
 not a matter of knowledge, but of volition and faith. What 
 the philosopher himself accepts as the highest good and 
 final goal he projects into the world as its good and goal, 
 and then believes that subsequent reflections also reveal 
 it to him in the world. In this sense the words of Augustine, 
 fides prcecedit rationem, express a universal human truth, 
 nay, the real key to an understanding of all philosophy. 
 
314 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGIGAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 This is obviously true of all idealistic philosophy. It is 
 the fundamental conviction common to all objective ideal- 
 ism, that the goal towards which reality tends is the evolu- 
 tion of self-consciousness : reality, being thought as such, 
 aims to comprehend itself as what it actually is, as thought 
 or reason. The Hegelian formulae characterize the funda- 
 mental notions of all idealistic philosophy. The eternal 
 self-consciousness of the ideas, the thinking of the ab- 
 solute content of thought, to use the Aristotelian expres- 
 sion, is the beginning and end of reality, is reality itself. 
 
 It is evident that the ultimate origin of such a con- 
 viction is to be sought in one's own experiences. For 
 Aristotle as well as Plato, philosophy was the most impor- 
 tant business of life. Hence it is, so their ethical systems 
 declare, the chief constituent and the highest good of hu- 
 man life, and hence, so metaphysics goes on inferring, it is 
 the highest goal of all life and existence in general. The 
 universal reality, the godhead, is conceived as the great 
 thinker after the pattern of the little thinker. For Fichte 
 and Hegel, too, philosophy is the most important and most 
 valuable among all the facts which the world offers ; con- 
 sequently, thought is the ground and goal, nay, the real 
 essence of the world. Had Fichte been asked what event 
 he regarded as the most important fact of the eighteenth 
 century or even of modern times, he would most likely have 
 answered without a moment's hesitation : The appearance 
 of the Wissenschaftslehre which begins with Kant. In his 
 Reden über die Grundzüge des gegenwärtigen Zeitalters (Dis- 
 courses on the Features of the Present Age), he gives an 
 interpretation of the entire course of history ; it revolves 
 around modern philosophy as its axis ; the great turning- 
 point of the times, the transition from the descending to 
 the ascending movement, is marked by the entrance of 
 transcendental philosophy ; in it, reason, which had been 
 enslaved by nature, again became conscious of itself. 
 Hegel, too, regards the world-process as directly converging 
 in his philosophy. In it reality reaches the goal of its self- 
 movement, absolute self-consciousness. Thus the philoso- 
 pher interprets the universe according to his own nature 
 
Ch. IL] RELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 315 
 
 and highest aspirations. The world-process invariably 
 passes right through the head of the philosopher. 
 
 The same may be said of Schopenhauer, the antithesis 
 of Hegel. He, too, reads his own nature into the world. 
 His own life's goal gives him an inkling of that of the 
 universe. He calls his chief work, The World as Will and 
 Idea ; he himself is the model of the world ; its two sides 
 are the sides of his own nature, intelligence and will. And 
 he believes that in the world at large the same relation 
 exists between these two phases as in himself : the intelli- 
 gence is the bright and joyful being, the will, the dark, 
 blind, desiring, fearing, envious, hating, miserable, and 
 unhappy being. His intelligence procured for him the 
 great and pure joys of life, his will brought the daily 
 big and little sorrows. Hence to be delivered from the 
 will and to become pure intelligence, that is a consummation 
 devoutly to be wished. Then he reads this goal into the 
 world. If it is in its origin blind, impulsive, impetuous, 
 unhappy will, it will evolve intelligence out of itself, and 
 intelligence is the principle of deliverance. Through the 
 knowledge of its own nature, will succeeds in negating 
 itself and hence in obtaining peace. History proves it. In 
 the great religions of redemption, Christianity and Bud- 
 dhism, mankind reaches its life-goal, deliverance from the 
 will. Here, too, the philosopher's own experiences give 
 him a clue to the meaning of the world. 
 
 We may say the same of the positivistic and material- 
 istic philosophy. Comte's Positivism professes to be, 
 first of all, pure knowledge, a mere synthesis of all scien- 
 tific knowledge. But it, too, is mixed with elements of 
 faith, especially in its philosophy of history. Like all 
 philosophies of history it represents history as striving for 
 a goal. The philosopher knows what the goal is and that 
 really constitutes his great science ; in it he holds the key 
 to the secret of the world. And this knowledge of his 
 gains disciples for him. Of old, the faithful multitudes 
 crowded around the oracles and prophets ; now they gather 
 around the philosophers, to hear from them whither the 
 road leads, what the future holds. Comte's philosophy 
 aims wholly at a philosophy of history ; it is an attempt to 
 
316 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 survey the past experiences of mankind as a whole, in 
 order to determine the future course of history. The posi- 
 tion and the problem of the present are determined by the 
 law of the three stages. The problem is, of course, the 
 very problem which the philosopher is about to take up or 
 which he has just been fortunate enough to solve in out- 
 line ; hence, in this case, it is the proof of positivistic phi- 
 losophy as the final form of human knowledge, and the 
 foundation of positivistic politics, which also reaches its 
 systematic completion. Henceforth the problem will be 
 to apply these thoughts to reality. So here, too, the world- 
 process runs right through the brain of the philosopher, 
 not without unbalancing it a little : during his later years 
 Comte felt and acted like the high-priest of humanity, who, 
 holding the past in his left hand and the future in his right, 
 weighs and guides their destinies. Perhaps we expect too 
 much of the human brain when we make it the pivot of 
 the world-process.* 
 
 Materialism in principle rejects the attempt to interpret 
 the meaning of the world ; it has no meaning ; rational 
 products are merely accidental and occasional results. 
 Accidentally and occasionally molecules form such combi- 
 nations in a brain as produce a poem or a philosophy. 
 Nevertheless this theory, too, possesses elements of faith. 
 The philosophers of materialism also appear as prophets ; 
 they, too, own the great science of the past and future. L. 
 Feuerbachf unravels the meaning of history to the believers 
 as follows : " The so-called modern times preceding our 
 own constitute the Protestant middle ages, during which 
 we retained the Koman Church, Eoman law, the penal code, 
 the old-fashioned universities, etc., only half negating them 
 and using them as mere makeshifts. But now that the 
 
 * In his Geschichte der Ethik, Jodl places A. Comte by the side of his 
 German contemporary Krause (n. 102 ff.). In the title of his later writings 
 Comte proclaims himself as the founder of the religion of humanity, for 
 which he invented a form of worship as well as a calendar and saints. 
 Similarly, Krause, in the solitude of his little chamber, founded a " union 
 of mankind" (Menschheitsbund) in 1808, from which he dates a new epoch 
 in the history of our race and a new chronology. 
 
 f In an essay, Grundsätze der Philosophie, 1842-43, in Grün, L. Feuer- 
 bach, Brief Wechsel und Nachlass, pp. 411 ff. 
 
Ch. II.] RELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 317 
 
 Christianity of Protestantism lias lost its force as a religious 
 truth and power determining the mind, we have entered 
 upon a new era. Eealism is the spirit of the times or of 
 the future. Unbelief has taken the place of belief, reason 
 the place of the Bible, politics the place of religion and the 
 church, the earth the place of heaven, work the place of 
 prayer, material want the place of hell, man the place of 
 the Christian." Hence a new philosophy is necessary, for 
 every age needs its own philosophy. " Hitherto, Christian- 
 ity was unconsciously denied ; it is now, for the first time, 
 consciously and voluntarily repudiated, the more so since 
 Christianity has become implicated in the attempts to 
 obstruct the essential impulse of modern humanity, the 
 desire for political freedom. This conscious negation 
 begins a new era and makes necessary a new, open-hearted 
 philosophy — one that is no longer Christian, but decidedly 
 unchristian." Now this new philosophy demanded by the 
 times is offered by Feuerbach. It is realistic, atheistic, 
 and democratic, and will doubtless, so he believes, trium- 
 phantly conquer the world and point out the road to salva- 
 tion. Thus unbelief itself is turned into a new belief. 
 
 Here, too, it is evident that philosophy is not a product 
 of the understanding merely, but of a man's entire person- 
 ality. The will, the revolt against a miserable present, 
 determines the direction it will take and arouses its pas- 
 sions. 
 
 It would not be hard to prove that the above remark 
 is applicable to more recent philosophers of this stamp, to 
 Dühring and the Socialists. As anger and indignation 
 once inspired Juvenal to write verses, so they inspire men 
 with thoughts to-day. What influences the votaries of 
 materialism is not so much reasons, not so much the argu- 
 ments of science and metaphysics, as the conviction that 
 materialism makes the most resolute onslaught against the 
 conception of the universe on which our present conditions 
 seem to them to be founded ; it is, so they believe, the 
 basis of all injustice, falsehood, and tyranny. The philos- 
 ophy of history and the interpretation of the future also 
 constitute the heart of this philosophy, and the heart of 
 this heart consists of ideas of justice, freedom, and welfare, 
 
318 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 the realization of which, in a new order of human things, 
 forms the problem of the present and the content of the 
 future. Thus the founder of the " materialistic conception 
 of history," Karl Marx, explains the development of eco- 
 nomic phenomena as moving towards a socialistic order of 
 society : the expropriation of the laborer, with which 
 society began, is now followed by the expropriation of the 
 expropriator, by the transformation of private into collect- 
 ive property, and here the goal is reached : the thorough- 
 going organization of economic activity. First the sys- 
 tem of production will be organized, then distribution. 
 Friedrich Engels fortifies the old ideas with the most 
 modern theories of anthropology and likewise explains 
 history as a unified process. It starts out from a natural 
 order of society, in which maternal law and collectivism 
 prevail, passes through a period of coercion and statehood, 
 characterized by paternal law and private property, and 
 finally returns to a condition of freedom with collective 
 property and the free community of families.* 
 
 So everywhere a man's ideal of the future is the fixed 
 point from which his interpretation of history proceeds. 
 It determines the most significant points of the past, and 
 through these points the curve is plotted which describes 
 the course of history. Hence -every reform-movement 
 straightway sets out to change historical values ; such 
 changes are essential to its philosophy of history. Think 
 of the Renaissance, the Reformation, the French Revolu- 
 tion, the Nationalverein, and the German empire on a Prus- 
 sian basis ! By changing historical values each reform be- 
 came convinced of its own inner necessity. Socialism now 
 does the same. When looked at from the new point of 
 view, events which mankind formerly regarded as great 
 and important, the theses of Luther, the battles of Leipsic 
 and Sedan, dwindle into ordinary incidents of the day. 
 On the other hand, an occurrence hardly noticed by others 
 assumes importance and makes an epoch in history ; e.g., 
 Karl Marx's Communistic Manifesto, the foundation of the 
 national German labor-union by Lassalle. Here again we 
 
 * Fr. Engels, Der Ursprung der Familie, des Privateigentums und des 
 Staates, 3d. ed. 1890. 
 
Ch. IL] RELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 319 
 
 find what we saw before : every new party has an impulse to 
 make its own chronology, its own calendar and new saints. 
 
 To believers the new evaluations seem as credible as 
 they seem absurd to believers of the old school. Only, 
 they will not believe that it is faith and not knowledge on 
 which their view of things depends. Why, they protest, 
 do we not plainly see that history moves towards the goal ? 
 " Science " is the second word of the social-democracy. Of 
 course ; you put yourself at the goal, and it is quite natural 
 that history should appear to be moving towards you. But 
 science did not put you there ; your own loves and hates, 
 your desires and aversions, put you there : not your under- 
 standing, but your will. You cannot prove the truth of your 
 view to one who does not share your loves and your hates, 
 your hopes and your ideals. All you can do is to appeal 
 to the future ; but the peculiarity about the future is that 
 it is open to faith, not to knowledge. Perhaps five 
 hundred years from now, when the new order of things 
 will have arrived, everybody will recognize the true impor- 
 tance of the beginnings of the great revolution. We all 
 appreciate the historical significance of the beginnings of 
 Christianity now, and even the reluctant are forced to con- 
 fess the importance of our Christian era. But if some one 
 had told a Greek philosopher or a Roman historian, 
 eighteen hundred years ago, that all the European nations 
 would date their era from the birth of a poor little boy, 
 occurring several decades ago in the land of the Jews, he 
 would most likely have questioned the prophet's sanity. 
 At any rate, he would have refused to discuss the possibil- 
 ity of such a view. For the present the most recent changes 
 of chronology seem to me to be in the same predicament. 
 
 That does not diminish the importance of the matter. 
 Not knowledge, but faith works miracles ; not every faith, 
 of course, but only the true faith which divines what is to 
 come. Ideas, says Hegel, are the efficient forces of history. 
 Very true ; for ideas of what is to come are motive forces 
 in the aspirations and minds of men. That will be the case 
 as long as men live, not on the joys of the present but on 
 the hopes of the future. And so long will faith play its 
 part in the life of humanity. 
 
320 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 In this sense, then, faith is an element, nay the real 
 formal principle of every philosophy. This belief in the 
 future fashions a man's notion of historical life, and the 
 philosophy of history fashions his conception of the world. 
 Astronomy does not make a Weltanschauung, it simply 
 presents us with a general outline of reality. Physics does 
 not determine one's conception of the nature of the real ; 
 it supplies the necessary aids for the technical treatment 
 of things. Biology does not determine one's conception of 
 life ; in a few broad outlines it indicates man's general 
 position in the world. An answer to the question concern- 
 ing the meaning of life, the essence of reality, the ground 
 and goal of the world, is ultimately sought in historical 
 phenomena which form the real and most immediate 
 environment of the mind. Our interpretation of mental 
 life, however, is not based on the science of the past, but 
 on the idea of perfection which every man carries along 
 with him. It tells him the direction of the movement ; and 
 when he knows that, he soon discovers whence it comes. 
 And when he knows the import of history, he soon finds 
 out the import of nature and the world at large. What 
 seems important to me is the essential element in the 
 world : this is the universal pattern according to which the 
 human mind draws its inferences, and it will hardly 
 abandon the scheme, unless, of course, the head and the 
 heart, the intelligence and the will, should each carry on its 
 affairs separately. So long as they remain united, there 
 will be no change. Whatever fails to arouse the will, 
 whatever bears no relation to its purposes and problems, 
 and to its ideals, cannot excite the attention ; it will be 
 ignored and consequently have no influence on a man's 
 idea of reality. Hence, what is important necessarily be- 
 comes essential, and what is essential becomes the sole 
 reality. As the snail builds its house to suit its body, so 
 the will constructs its cosmology, from which it views 
 things and acts upon them.* 
 
 * The idea that cosmologies have their root in the historical conscious- 
 ness of mankind, is finely carried out in the half-forgotten work of Bunsen, 
 Gott in der Geschichte (God in History), 1857. I cannot deny myself the 
 pleasure of inserting a passage from his splendid preface: "The feeling 
 
Ch. II.] RELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 321 
 
 As was shown above, the thought just expressed forms 
 the real cardinal point of Kantian philosophy. One's view 
 of the world receives its most powerful and decided im- 
 petus, not from the understanding, but from the volitional 
 side, from the practical reason. The belief in the possi- 
 bility of our ultimate purposes, in the realization of the 
 highest good in the world, really forms the starting-point 
 of one's cosmology. Kant has formulated this thought in 
 the doctrine of the postulates and the primacy of practical 
 reason. We should say : We are here concerned, not with 
 a demand that imposes faith upon the conscience, but with 
 a fact. No one believes and no one can believe that reality 
 is wholly indifferent or even hostile to that which seems to 
 him to be the highest goal and good. And though a man 
 might, in principle, deny the validity of the belief that 
 reality has regard for human values, yet, as a matter of 
 fact, he presupposes such an agreement. The materialist, 
 too, believes in the victory of the good cause, in the ascend- 
 ency of reason, truth, and right ; he believes, therefore, in 
 a moral world-order. The pessimist, too, ultimately be- 
 lieves in the triumph of the better principle in so far as he 
 believes in the deliverance from evil ; for is not the non- 
 existence that is to be better than existence ? Thus we find 
 faith even among those who in principle repudiate faith 
 and grant only the claims of knowledge. They themselves 
 fail to deduce from their principle its logical consequence, 
 or, on the other hand, they deny the legitimacy of what 
 they do themselves, i.e., of transcending knowledge by 
 believing in the future. 
 
 Kant undertook to vindicate this procedure, which is, 
 
 that tlie course of history is divinely ordered and the revelation of a divin- 
 ity is an original, divine endowment of human nature. From the very out- 
 set man knows himself not merely as one among many, but as a member in 
 a series of developments of his own being. It is the original consciousness 
 of man that all life, individual as well as social, evolves into humanity ac- 
 cording to a law that is inherent in him, but has its temporal centre in man- 
 kind, its eternal one in God. The consciousness of the world, i.e. , this 
 historical consciousness of God, the consciousness that God acts in his- 
 tory, is at the same time the innate feeling of the individual's relation as 
 a microcosm, as the divine world in miniature, to the macrocosm, to the 
 great world of God, and to the All." 
 
322 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 as a matter of fact, universally followed, against those who 
 reject the same in theory. His aim is to procure for 
 the belief in the " teleological realm " {Reich der Zwecke) its 
 just rights against the radical negation of dogmatic atheism. 
 But not by means of theoretical arguments. That was 
 the old method ; the attempt was made to prove by meta- 
 physics, by teleologies and theodicies, that goodness is the 
 ruling principle of reality. Kant abandons this argument ; 
 an objective proof compelling the understanding is, in the 
 very nature of things, impossible. Every argument may 
 be opposed by a counter-proof of equal cogency. Here, 
 too, we have a dialectic with antinomies. And the solution 
 of this dialectical antinomy is effected in the same way in 
 which Kant resolves the cosmological antinomies : the con- 
 flict is decided by a change of venue, as it were. Space 
 and time, causality and necessity, exist only in the subject ; 
 consequently the dialectical antinomies, which rest on the 
 premise that they are predicates of things-in-themselves, 
 disappear. So, too, values exist only for the subject; 
 however — and that is the decisive fact — not for the under- 
 standing, but for the will, for " practical " reason. And 
 then the analogy carries him farther : nature is, according 
 to the Critique of Pure Reason, nothing but a system of 
 phenomena arranged by the necessary functions of our in- 
 telligence. For that very reason the forms of our intelli- 
 gence have the value and validity of universal and necessary 
 determinations of our knowledge of nature, and hence of 
 nature itself. In the same way, the Critique of Practical 
 Reason adds, the categories of the volitional side of our 
 nature possess the value and validity of universal and nec- 
 essary determinations of our views of the world. As the 
 intellectual law of causality is the basis of our belief in the 
 natural order, so the moral law is the basis of our faith in 
 a moral order. Wherever the moral law is accepted and 
 has validity as an identical expression of the legislative 
 reason, the belief in the " realm of ends," whose law is the 
 moral law, is valid. 
 
 We may object to the way in which Kant introduces 
 and carries out this thought. The fundamental idea is 
 thoroughly justified. It would be utterly impossible for a 
 
Ch. IL] RELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 323 
 
 being that has no will, but is pure intellect, to explain the 
 value or even the meaning of a realm of ends and a moral 
 world-order as the internal law of the same. But for a 
 human being with a will determined by the highest ends 
 of humanity, the belief in a moral world-order is natural 
 and necessary ; and such a belief necessarily becomes the 
 keystone of his entire view of the world. Our philosophy 
 will inevitably bear the impress of the will as well as that 
 of the intelligence. And we have no more reason to say 
 that our concept of the universe is falsified here than in the 
 space-time-causal form of our knowledge. Our philosophy 
 is a human philosophy ; as human beings we can neither 
 have nor endure any other.* 
 
 Negative dogmatism will raise the objection : That would 
 be making a principle of a natural error of thought. Of 
 course we are inclined to believe what we wish. But it is 
 the business of philosophy and science to free knowledge 
 from the influence of the will. Originally the will rules 
 absolutely, and completely determines our conception of 
 things ; which explains the many superstitions related by 
 anthropology and history. The intellect has gradually 
 asserted itself in science, and the conscientious observation 
 and impartial recognition of facts has taken the place of 
 a biassed interpretation. Now science universally proves 
 that the course of nature is by no means subject to our will 
 or changeable as the naive fancy imagines ; nay, it runs 
 along absolutely indifferent to human designs, obeying only 
 the eternal great laws. Hence why delude one's self ? Why 
 imagine things that do not exist? It is both wise and 
 
 * This is the point in Kantian philosophy which modern Protestant the- 
 ology makes the starting-point of its religious reflections. I have already 
 referred to the works of Rauwenhoff and Bender. Let me add another im- 
 portant book : J. Kaftan, Die Wahrheit der christlichen Religion (1888). 
 His arguments are based on Kant : A theoretical proof of the truth of the 
 Christian faith is impossible. The intellect cannot be convinced of the truth 
 of this belief either by means of the old orthodoxy's philologico-historical 
 method of Scriptural proofs or by philosophical speculation. The only pos- 
 sible argument is the one that appeals to the entire man ; it must show that 
 the idea of man's historical destiny or the necessary idea of a highest good is 
 realized either in Christianity's mundane or supramundane kingdom of 
 <*od. I do not wish to deny that I do not agree with the author's rejection 
 <of all metaphysics, nor with his way of introducing the supranatural. 
 
324 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 courageous to take things as they are. What is the use of 
 pursuing error ? 
 
 None whatever, to be sure. It happens daily, without 
 doubt, that the course of nature crosses our plans and even 
 destroys what is near and dear to us. But does that mean 
 that reality is indifferent not only as to particulars, but 
 also as a whole ; regardless not merely of occasional partic- 
 ular plans, but also of our ultimate and highest ends ? And 
 does it therefore mean that the belief in a " moral world« 
 order" is a wanton illusion ? 
 
 I do not propose to enter here into a discussion of the 
 old problems concerning the nature and meaning of evil 
 and the possibility of a theodicy. Let me simply ask the 
 question : How would the world have to be constructed so 
 as to render such a faith at least possible ? Would the nat- 
 ural course of events have to yield to every wish, or even 
 anticipate it? In that case should we have reason to be- 
 lieve that the natural course of events is ordered by Provi- 
 dence for our good ? L. Büchner holds {Kraft und Stoff y 
 p. 236) : " It would indeed be foolish for any one to assert, 
 in all seriousness, that the earth was constructed by an all- 
 wise and all-good Providence as a suitable dwelling-place ! 
 Only through the most strenuous exercise of his bodily 
 and mental powers is man enabled to escape the thousand 
 dangers that constantly threaten him, and to exist upon it." 
 Accordingly, would a belief in a Providence be justifiable, 
 only in case nature enabled us to live without exerting our 
 powers ? If there were neither work nor failure, neither 
 sickness nor death, if the world were a Utopia, would we 
 then and only then be permitted to believe that it is the 
 creation of a benevolent God ? 
 
 Of course, at some time or other, we all dream of a land 
 in which there will be no work and no unrest, no evil and 
 no wrong, — the fond dream of paradise. But in our wak- 
 ing moments we see enough to know that, as long as we are 
 what we are, such a paradise is not for us. We belong on 
 the earth and not in paradise. A world in which there 
 are neither conflicts nor obstacles, neither failures nor evils, 
 would be no world for us. What opportunity would there 
 be for healthy volition and brave action, for earnest battle 
 
■Ch. IL] RELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 325 
 
 and glorious victory ? An environment is good for me that 
 offers tasks suited to my powers. That world is good for 
 a people and for mankind which brings out and develops 
 predispositions and powers. Without conflicts, natural 
 and moral, there would be no problems and no work, no 
 life and no history whatever. Whoever desires life and 
 history, human life, desires the conflicts too, desires also 
 evil and wrong, not for their own sake, but as the conditions 
 of human volition and work, as a means of exercising 
 powers and virtues. The world is destined for the exercise 
 of powers, not for passive enjoyment.* 
 
 Hence whoever wishes to prove that the world is bad 
 must prove that it does not realize this aim, that it does not 
 supply individuals and society with appropriate tasks, that 
 man needs another world for the development of his natural 
 capacities. Or he would at least have to show that a dif- 
 ferently constructed universe would have been more in 
 accord with our ultimate aims than that which, unfortu- 
 nately, happens to be the real one. Until then, until we get 
 a clear description of the better world, — better, not because 
 of the absence of certain inconveniences and conflicts, but 
 better fitted for the perfection of human capacities in gen- 
 eral, — why should we not persevere in the belief that for 
 us the existing world is a suitable world, nay, the best 
 world? We do not claim to know this or to be able to 
 prove it ; we have no other possible worlds and no other 
 possible human natures with which to compare our own ; 
 l>ut we do claim that there is nothing to contradict the 
 belief that our world is suitable and good for us, that the 
 ways through which mankind, and each one of us, has been 
 led are good ways, the ways of God. A scientific theodicy 
 is impossible, but a scientific anti-theodicy is equally im- 
 possible. The intellect is indifferent to the problem 
 whether the world is good or bad. 
 
 Or, we might add, if it takes sides at all, it cannot favor 
 the view that reality is bad and unsuited to man. To the 
 advocates of the modern biological theory the opposite 
 conception would seem more in accord with the facts. If 
 
 * The reader will find an elaboration of these suggestions in my System 
 der Ethik (3d ed., 1893, vol. i. pp. 92 ff.). 
 
326 THE COSMOLOGIGAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 man was not set upon the earth from without, but originated 
 and grew with it, then the harmony between his nature and 
 his environment appears to be a priori necessary ; then his 
 whole nature is adapted to this environment, and he would 
 seem out of place in any other world. All his powers and 
 capacities, nay, his essence and his will, his senses and his 
 intellect itself, are fashioned for the earth and the condi- 
 tions of life which it provides ; hence why should it not be 
 fit and good for such a being ? Has she not been a kind 
 mother to him ? Well, you say, she has inflicted many a 
 severe trial upon him. But perhaps that was exactly what 
 he needed. Or do you know better ? Thus we are forced to 
 repeat the demand : Out of all the infinite possibilities con- 
 struct a world that would have been better fitted than ours 
 to educate man and would have accomplished more. 
 
 Let me also remind the reader that, according to the 
 combined experience of nations, whatever morality declares 
 to be good and just is found to preserve and advance in- 
 dividual as well as social life, while the evil impedes and 
 destroys. Sometimes it may seem otherwise ; injustice and 
 falsehood are often triumphant. But the right rules in the 
 end, so the wisdom of nations declares in a thousand prov- 
 erbs. And they find the truth confirmed in their historical 
 reminiscences. True, the great and the good was often 
 misunderstood and oppressed during its life, while little- 
 ness and sham and wickedness flourished and was honored. 
 But history changes the roles ; it makes it clear to all the 
 world that the worthless, specious though it seemed at 
 first, is worthless, and that the good, simple and insignifi- 
 cant though it was, is real and valuable. Wickedness may 
 rule the day, but to truth and goodness belongs eternity. 
 That is above all the grand teaching of Christianity ; 
 through suffering and death we pass to resurrection and 
 glory. Its faith triumphantly exclaims : " O death, where 
 is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? " Evil and 
 wickedness have no power over those who rest in God's 
 hand. It may strike them from without, it cannot over- 
 come them from within, and thus it simply serves to glorify 
 the name of God in them. 
 
 In conclusion, I again protest against the misconception 
 
Ch. IL] RELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 327 
 
 that such discussions are adequate theoretical proofs that 
 bind the understanding, or that faith and religion can or 
 must be produced by them. Their sole significance con- 
 sists in this : they free the judgment and enable it to 
 oppose the negative dogmatism of a purely physical view 
 of the world. Keligion does not originate in thought, but 
 in what we experience. This is true of the religion of in- 
 dividuals as well as of nations. Life and death are the 
 great preachers of religion ; and while they continue to 
 preach, religion will not disappear from the world. 
 
 There are, in particular, three feelings in which religion 
 has its eternal, living roots ; they are continually aroused 
 in the heart of man by the phenomenon of life and death : 
 fear, joyful admiration, and disappointment. Not until these 
 emotions die out will religion die ; not until then will pure 
 knowledge rule the day. 
 
 Fear and distress are the primary roots of religion ; it 
 was they that taught men the art of magic. Magic was 
 found above to be the primitive form in which man's rela- 
 tion to a suprasensuous being is conceived. Even now the 
 fear of death and the anticipation of the pain of death are 
 the powerful motives which cause us to fall on our knees 
 and impel us to seek refuge from nature with something 
 that is beyond nature. The fear of death is the strongest, 
 be it fear of one's own death or of that of some one dear to 
 us. The horror of annihilation moves the heart to throw 
 itself upon an eternal and suprareal being that is not sub- 
 ject to destruction. 
 
 In rapture and admiration we have another root of relig- 
 ion. Youthful vigor and health, hopeful action and happy 
 success produce joyful emotions which tend to break forth 
 into gratitude. The pure contemplation of nature arouses 
 a reverential mood that looks upon nature as pointing to 
 something higher, of which it is the product and revelation. 
 When you lose yourself in meditating upon the works of 
 the mind, upon the creations of art and poetry, upon the 
 lives of great and good, brave and holy men, the heart is 
 filled with feelings of the beautiful and the sublime, feel- 
 ings of admiration and veneration, and these emotions, too, 
 naturally turn the soul heavenward, towards an all-good 
 
328 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 and perfect One, of whom everything that is beautiful and 
 good on earth is the reflection. That is Goethe's religion : 
 
 In unsres Busens Keine wogt ein Streben, 
 Sich einem Höhern, Eeinern, Unbekannten 
 Aus Dankbarkeit freiwillig hinzugeben, 
 Enträtzelnd sich den ewig Ungenannten ; 
 Wir heissen's : fromm sein ! 
 
 Then, again, religious feeling springs from disappoint- 
 ment and world-iveariness. This phase appears in a pro- 
 nounced form in the religions of salvation. Life and the 
 world have not fulfilled what they promised the hopes of 
 youth ; bitter disappointment and grim remorse gnaw at his 
 heart, and it saves itself from despair and disgust by 
 abandoning this world for a better world ; it flies from the 
 hardness and self-righteousness, the baseness and deceit of 
 men to the heart of God. There is a trace of this feeling 
 in all idealistic philosophy ; we find it in Plato and in 
 Fichte. The indignation at the world and men as they are 
 provokes the remark : This world is not the real world 
 at all, nay, it cannot be, it is too low for that ; there is, 
 there must be a purer, higher world beyond the hazy 
 atmosphere of sense. — Who is utterly devoid of such a 
 feeling? Something of the contemtus mundi, which is so 
 marked in Christianity, is surely experienced by every 
 fine-grained soul. Men are not what our childlike trust 
 imagined them to be ; behind the beautiful masks with 
 which they know how to disguise themselves lurk the base 
 impulses of a vulgar soul. They care not for the beautiful 
 and the good, they pursue trivial aims and mean designs 
 and presuppose them in others ; grandeur and excellence 
 fill them with envy, serious and great endeavors arouse in 
 them distrust and hatred, and a merciless judgment is pro- 
 nounced upon him who will not agree with them in calling 
 the trivial great, the false genuine, mere semblance truth. 
 And then the heart sorrowfully and indignantly turns away 
 and appeals from the court of men to a higher and juster 
 judge. It becomes the law of its life to seek consolation 
 in God and not to rely on vain and venal men, not to build 
 on the creaturafallax. No great work has been done on 
 this earth without the presence of some such feeling. And 
 
Ch. IL] BELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 329 
 
 there is another disappointment which no man is spared. 
 You yearned for the things of the world, for money and 
 wealth, for honor and position, for enjoyment and good 
 living, and you discover what has been experienced a thou- 
 sand times before — that they cannot satisfy the heart. 
 You were full of grand purposes, you imagined you would 
 win beauty and truth, and now after many wanderings and 
 meanderings you are lost in error and darkness. Once 
 upon a time you set out to do battle for freedom and right, 
 but you grew weary and pliable and have now made your 
 peace with the world. Such a disappointment, too, be- 
 comes a motive for looking heavenward ; it becomes a 
 yearning for deliverance from your entire sensuous and 
 temporal existence. Everything worldly seems flat and 
 dreary to the world-weary soul, and with the poet to whom 
 nothing human was foreign, it exclaims : 
 
 Ach ich bin des Treibens müde ! 
 Was soll all der Schmerz und Lust ? 
 Süsser Friede, 
 Komm, ach komm in meine Brust ! 
 
 Such are the emotions that arouse a longing for religion 
 in the human heart. So long as they are not wholly stifled 
 by well-fed security and pride of culture, by self-admiration 
 and Byzantianism, this longing will constantly well up in 
 the breast of man. 
 
 It is satisfied, however, only by an existing, historical 
 religion, not by ideas or images invented by the individual. 
 The invention of one's own thoughts is an arbitrary prod- 
 uct that one may hold or set aside at will. But man de- 
 mands that his religion raise him beyond himself and his 
 caprice, and place him upon firm and solid ground. A 
 historical religion, the faith in which his fathers lived and 
 died, can alone accomplish that. The great symbols from 
 which he gleaned the meaning of the world even as a child 
 are rekindled in his bosom when the religious need makes 
 itself felt. The heart now contemplates them as something 
 that is fixed and eternal, as the only stable element in the 
 ever-changing maze of opinions. The doctrines of the phi- 
 losophers, the theories of the savants, the systems of the 
 theologians, pass away like the clouds that come and go 
 
330 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book L 
 
 from night to morn, but the great symbols remain like the 
 stars in heaven, even though the passing mists momen- 
 tarily hide them from view. 
 
 As the traveller returns from the mountains to the 
 plains, the neighboring foot-hills obscure his outlook on 
 the summits. The farther and farther he wanders away,, 
 the smaller the foot-hills grow, until at last the solitary 
 caps of snow loom up above the outstretched plain. The 
 child of man makes the same experiences with his religion.. 
 In the beginning the first great impressions of childhood 
 are displaced and even totally submerged by a wealth of 
 new impressions which the world and life make upon the 
 youth as he enters the world. But when the time comes 
 for looking backward, when our parents are dead and gone, 
 and new young life plays at our feet, then the memories of 
 home and the days of youth grow strong, and with them 
 arises the recollection of our spiritual home, the realm of 
 symbols and images, in which the consciousness of the 
 child once dwelt. And now the great meaning of these 
 things dawns upon the soul which has been enriched by 
 the varied experiences of life, and the impulse arises to 
 perpetuate them and to unite the future generations with 
 their ancestors by the transmission of the great truths that 
 were so mysteriously revealed. So the germ of religion is 
 transmitted from generation to generation. Our experi- 
 ences develop it, not always in the same way, it is true, and 
 many a seed fails to sprout altogether, but there is no more 
 generatio cequivoca here than anywhere else in the organic 
 and historical realms. 
 
 Keligion exists and can exist only in the form of con- 
 crete popular religions that have grown historically and 
 express themselves in symbols and sacred ceremonies. An 
 abstract religion like the systems that went under the title 
 of rational or natural religion is an impossibility. All at- 
 tempts made in this direction by particular thinkers are 
 the dying embers of a living, concrete, real religion. 
 
 Renan happily expresses this thought in his suggestive 
 essay on metaphysics and its future (Fragments philoso- 
 phigues, p. 327) : " Its simplicity will always hinder deism 
 from becoming a religion. A religion that is as clear as 
 
Ch. II.] RELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 331 
 
 geometry would excite neither love nor hatred. That 
 alone forms a bond of union among men which leaves 
 room for free and personal choice. The more evident a 
 truth is, the less we care for it. Only what is obscure 
 arouses passion, for evidence excludes individual choice." 
 Hence the critical philosopher will not attempt " to divest 
 religion of its particular articles of faith ; he does not 
 believe that he would find the truth at the bottom of the 
 crucible by analyzing the different religions. Such an 
 attempt would result in nothing. Each thing has a value 
 for us only in the peculiar form which characterizes it- 
 He takes every symbol for what it is, for the peculiar ex- 
 pression of a feeling that does not deceive us. The truth 
 of a symbol does not therefore bear any relation to its sim- 
 plicity. In the eyes of the deist Islamism would of neces- 
 sity be the best religion. In the eyes of the critical 
 philosopher Islamism is a very inferior religion that has 
 done the human race more harm than good. Let us allow 
 the religions to speak of God, and let us not, in our desire to 
 simplify them, destroy them. Let us not boast of our 
 superiority. Their formulae are only a trifle more myth- 
 ical than ours, and they have great advantages which we 
 never attain. A formula is a boundary and open to objec- 
 tion. A hymn, a harmony are not open to objection, for 
 they are not logical propositions. We cannot dispute 
 about them. The dogmas of the Catholics repel us ; their 
 old churches enchant us. The Protestant confessions of 
 faith do not satisfy us, while the austere poetry of their 
 worship fills us with rapture. Ancient Judaism does not 
 please us, but its psalms still remain a source of consola- 
 tion to us." 
 
 Those who endeavor to construct new religions by 
 means of philosophy should not forget this fact. A religion 
 does not consist of definitions, but of concrete symbols. 
 Symbols, however, cannot be made, they are historical pro- 
 ducts. A religion may assimilate new elements, the old 
 trunk may throw out new shoots, but it is not the result of 
 a generatio cequivoca. See how Christianity retains the 
 elements of the religion of Israel in all points, in its faith 
 as well as in its worship ! It seems to me, the man who 
 
332 THE COSMOLOGICAL-THEOLOGICAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 has the least appreciation for the poetry of history must 
 be overcome with an awful weariness and be chilled to 
 the bone when he compares a real historical religion with 
 such attempts at an artificial reform as Comte's religion of 
 humanity and its concepts and formulae, its symbols and 
 its worship.* 
 
 Nor should the founders of new religions forget that 
 there can be no religion without the transcendent element. 
 To do away with the transcendent means to destroy relig- 
 ion. We may love and admire a historical personage or 
 any man, but we feel religious awe only in the presence of 
 a metempiric, suprareal being. Every real being has its 
 limitations, the ideal alone is without negations. A his- 
 torical being can become the object of religious reverence 
 only by being raised above the empirical world into the 
 realm of poetry, ideals, and symbols. If instead of the four 
 gospels we had a biography of Jesus in four volumes, tell- 
 ing us the smallest details of his daily acts and sayings, the 
 impression on the heart would be infinitely less than it is. 
 A biography of him would reveal the man with all his 
 limitations ; the gospels give us a few grand and sublime 
 features ; the trivial characteristics of his daily routine are 
 lacking or only faintly suggested. So it is that we behold 
 in Jesus the image of the suprareal, infinite God. For that 
 reason the faith of the church is justified in deifying Jesus, 
 and is compelled to do so : the object of our religious ado- 
 ration is not the empirical man, but God, who appeared to 
 us in this man and indicated the path that leads to life 
 and happiness. 
 
 Positivism believes that man is about to give up his 
 longing for the infinite and transcendent, which has char- 
 acterized religion in the past. I regard that as a delusion. 
 The vague yearning for an infinite and all-good being 
 is an innate and permanent craving of the human soul. 
 
 * In connection with the above see the statements made by the Jesuit 
 H. Gruber in his book, Comte und der Positimsmus (1890), a work that is 
 full of interesting facts, and then read another work by the same author, 
 Der Positimsmus vom Tode A. Comte's bis auf unsere Tage (1891). We 
 find therein detailed accounts of the ceremonies of the orthodox positiv - 
 ists in France and England. They have their liturgy, prayers, sacraments, 
 pilgrimages, everything but God; humanity takes his place in their prayers 
 as well as in the text of the Imitatio Christi. 
 
Ch. IL] RELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 333 
 
 Man is not completely satisfied by earthly gifts and 
 forms, by the world of experience. There are, at least, 
 times when all that is earthly and ephemeral seems mean 
 and insignificant, when he is seized with a longing for 
 the eternal and imperishable. And the reality before 
 him becomes too narrow for his intellect as well as for 
 his heart. What if you knew all sciences, what if you could 
 answer all the questions which historians and naturalists 
 are struggling to solve ; would that be such a wonderful 
 achievement ? Eeality and perfection lie beyond the know- 
 able, beyond the realm of the conceivable and expressible. 
 Such moods do not lay hold of the modern man as often as 
 in the days of Faust, speculative philosophy, and roman- 
 ticism. It is characteristic of the spirit of the present that 
 it rests satisfied with the finite and the trivial. The same 
 is true of the Aufklärung : Clearness and utility were its 
 chief delight. But after the illumination, the oscillating 
 pendulum of history brought storm and stress, romanticism 
 and mysticism. Has the pendulum possibly reached its 
 extreme point to-day, and is it swinging back again ? Be 
 that as it may, the climax of the movement has been passed 
 that overrated scientific research and its results, and our 
 admiration for realistic politics also appears to be on the 
 wane. If we may judge from certain symptoms, there again 
 seems to be a desire for a new, richer, freer, more spiritual 
 life among the nations of the West : there is a yearning for 
 principles, a yearning for religion * Even though the 
 mind may momentarily seem to abandon itself to the tem- 
 poral and perishable, the time will come when all those 
 things which it eagerly pursued will weary it, when, sated 
 by national wealth and gorgeous pleasures, by fame and 
 universal education, it will again reflect on itself and the 
 eternal. 
 
 Doch ist es Jedem eingeboren, 
 Dass sein Gefühl hinauf und vorwärts dringt, 
 Wenn über uns, im blauen Raum verloren, 
 Ihr schmetternd Lied die Lerche singt, 
 
 * The fact that P. de Lagarde's Deutsche Schriften (3d ed., 1891) are gain- 
 ing in popularity is such a symptom; the breath of the future is in them. 
 His harsh criticism of the present for sating itself with what is coarse and 
 trivial affects one as the chill breeze which precedes the rise of the sun. 
 
334 THE C0SM0L0GICAL-THE0L0G1CAL PROBLEM. [Book I. 
 
 "Wenn über schroffen Fichtenhöhen 
 Der Adler ausgebreitet schwebt, 
 Und über Flächen, über Seen 
 Der Kranich nach der Heimat strebt. 
 
 Religion in this sense is compatible with philosophy, 
 faith with the freest kind of thought. Religion does not 
 demand that we think what cannot be thought, but that we 
 believe what satisfies the heart and the will, and does not 
 contradict reason. 
 
 If all that is true, how shall we explain the violent op- 
 position between faith and science, between real convic- 
 tions and creeds, which is the great disease of our age ? It 
 is evidently due to the fact that religion has been converted 
 into a pseudo-scientific system for whose formulae an un- 
 qualified recognition is demanded. The spirit of freedom 
 and the more sensitive theoretical conscience of modern 
 times rebels against the attempt to subject it to such 
 dogmas constructed by human hands. It has been custo- 
 mary to lay infidelity on the wickedness of the will which 
 refuses to be subjected to a wholesome discipline. Per- 
 haps there is some truth in the saying. But it would be 
 wilful self-delusion to attribute all estrangement from the 
 church and all opposition to faith to this cause. Outside 
 of the narrow circle within which this notion prevails, no 
 one any longer believes that wicked men are the only un- 
 believers in the church sense. The whole world knows 
 that almost all the men whom our people honor as their 
 intellectual leaders and as good, true, and brave men, that, 
 Goethe and Schiller, Kant and Fichte — and what name 
 shall we omit here ? — belong to the unbelievers, as the 
 church understands the term. 
 
 Hence the reason for the wide-spread dislike for religion 
 and the church must be sought elsewhere. It is found in 
 the demand that is made in the name of religion, that men 
 subject themselves, not to the command of God, but to 
 human dogmas. The creed becomes a yoke by which to 
 test a person's obedience, a means to prcemiurn servitutis, to 
 office and promotion. That arouses hatred. Whoever ap- 
 preciates simplicity and truth, grandeur and sublimity, 
 must surely find pleasure and consolation in the Sacred 
 
■Ch. IL] RELATION BETWEEN KNOWLEDGE AND FAITH. 335 
 
 Scriptures. The reason why many a man does not care for 
 them, or even hates them, is that he is not allowed freely to 
 appropriate from them what suits him, but is expected to 
 regard them as inspired and literally true propositions con- 
 cerning natural and historical facts. Think of the state of 
 the many thousand teachers who daily suffer the torture of 
 being compelled to teach what they do not believe, and of 
 not being allowed to say what they think ! The old sym- 
 bolical ceremonies, hallowed by the veneration of thousands 
 of years, must surely seem venerable and sacred to every 
 man who has the slighest appreciation for history. Police 
 compulsion and impertinent prescriptions concerning what 
 we ought or ought not to think and feel have made them 
 unbearable. The creed as an unconstrained confession 
 that we desire to belong to the great moral communitj' that 
 has existed for thousands of years and regards Jesus as the 
 Savior, that we wish to live and to die in it, would break 
 from a thousand hearts, who now look upon it with dis- 
 trust and adversion. They learned to hate the creed be- 
 cause, as children they were compelled to commit the three 
 articles to memory, as boys to explain them, and during 
 their youth to make a public declaration of the faith. 
 
 Faith is by nature the tenderest, freest, and innermost 
 function of life. It perishes as soon as constraint, the fear 
 of man, and politics come into play. That is the most evi- 
 dent of all the truths which the history of Western nations 
 teaches — a truth, to be sure, that politicians will not learn. 
 What can we do to preserve the religion of the people ? 
 I am sure I do not know, unless it be that when you con- 
 sider the question of preserving religion you first think of 
 yourselves. 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 TEE EPISTEM0L0GIOAL PROBLEMS. 
 

INTEODÜCTOKY BEMAEKS. 
 
 The problems of epistemology are at present the central 
 objects of interest in philosophy. Or perhaps we had bet- 
 ter say, they were so until recently, for a noticeable change 
 has taken place of late. In many instances they wholly 
 diverted the attention from metaphysical questions ; many 
 identified philosophy with epistemology altogether. At 
 any rate, the opinion prevailed that the epistemological 
 inquiry into the functions and limits of knowledge must 
 precede all further discussions. 
 
 History did not pursue this path. Philosophy univer- 
 sally began with metaphysics. Inquiries into the form and 
 origin of the universe, the nature and origin of reality, the 
 nature of the soul and its relation to the body, constituted 
 the primary objects of philosophical reflection. Only after 
 such questions have been discussed for a long time will the 
 question concerning the nature of knowledge and its pos- 
 sibility arise. It is provoked by the conflicting views to 
 which reflection on physical and metaphysical problems 
 leads. The presence of so many contradictory opinions 
 suggests the question : Is the human intellect at all able 
 to solve such problems ? Epistemology is a critical reflec- 
 tion on metaphysics. So it was in ancient times and so it 
 is to-day. 
 
 Greek philosophy begins with cosmological speculations 
 of a natural-philosophical character. The Ionic, Eleatic, 
 and Atomistic philosophies are, above everything else, 
 metaphysical systems. They also speculate on the nature 
 and the origin of knowledge, but their views are based 
 on their metaphysics. The case is the same in the great 
 conceptual and speculative systems of Plato and Aristotle. 
 
 339 
 
340 INTROD ÜCTOR Y REMARKS. 
 
 A theory of knowledge is not wanting, but it is treated 
 from the standpoint of metaphysics : Knowledge too is an 
 existing fact, and hence the problem is to determine its 
 position. Only in the later Academic and Skeptical schools 
 did the question concerning the possibility and certainty 
 of knowledge, which the Sophists had been the first to ask 
 in a general way, come into prominence. 
 
 Modern philosophy likewise begins with the construc- 
 tion of metaphysical systems. In this respect the seven- 
 teenth century with its great systematizers, Descartes, 
 Hobbes, Spinoza, and Leibniz, resembles the fifth century 
 B.c. Epistemology is not wanting, but it depends on 
 metaphj^sics. With the appearance of Locke's Essay Con- 
 cerning the Human Understanding the theory of knowledge 
 becomes independent. As the preface of this work shows, 
 epistemology is the result of a critical reflection on meta- 
 physics, first on the prevailing metaphysics of scholasticism, 
 which with its barren notions beclouds the intellect and 
 hinders the progress of knowledge, then also on the 
 metaphysics of the modern systems, especially that of 
 Descartes. Its aim is to ascertain the objects of possible 
 knowledge and to stake out the limits of knowledge. Four 
 sciences are possible : mathematics and morals are de- 
 monstrative sciences, physics and psychology empirical. 
 There is really no place for metaphysics unless we mean 
 by it the reflection on knowledge. Hume leans on Locke. 
 Comte is the chief representative of this view in France ; 
 he called it Positivism. It is introduced into German 
 philosophy by Kant, not, however, without considerable 
 changes. He calls it Criticism. The new metaphysical 
 systems which speculative philosophy constructed on an 
 epistemological basis, and the successor of the same, dog- 
 matic materialism, were followed in Neokantianism by the 
 critical reflection, that is, epistemology. 
 
 An introduction to philosophy is obliged to follow the 
 course of history and to begin with metaphysics. Besides, 
 metaphysics will always be the central object of general 
 interest. Moreover, I am of the opinion that the metaphy- 
 sical problems demand wholly independent treatment and 
 cannot be replaced by epistemological discussions. Wher- 
 
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 341 
 
 ever such a thing is attempted, they will come back to 
 us in a different guise and in a less convenient form. 
 Kant did not set German philosophy a good example by 
 depriving metaphysics of its independence and relegating 
 it to epistemology. The problems of psychology, cosmol- 
 ogy, and theology are cast aside and repudiated rather 
 than discussed and solved in his Dialectic. 
 
 I shall simply give a few outlines of epistemological 
 speculation in the following, as much as I deem necessary 
 and sufficient to acquaint the reader with the general char- 
 acter of such investigations, and to supplement the preced- 
 ing metaphysical treatment of philosophical subjects. Let 
 us first consider the main problems of epistemology and 
 their possible solutions. 
 
 As was shown above (p. 49), epistemological inquiries 
 culminate in two questions : What is the essence and what 
 is the origin of knowledge ? What is knowledge and how is 
 knowledge acquired ? Each of these questions gives rise to 
 views that are diametrically opposed : Realism and Idealism 
 or Phenomenalism are the two opposite fundamental theories 
 that answer the first ; Sensualism or Empiricism and Ratio- 
 nalism, the second. 
 
 Realism answers the question concerning the essence of 
 knowledge as follows : Knowledge is a copy of reality. The 
 idea is an absolute representation of the object. It is an 
 alter urn idem of the thing ; only, it is without coporeality or 
 reality. Idealism or Phenomenalism , on the contrary, asserts 
 that ideas and things, thought and being, are absolutely 
 different and not to be compared. 
 
 The question concerning the origin of knowledge is an- 
 swered by Sensualism or Empiricism as follows : All knowl- 
 edge springs from perception, that is, from outer or inner 
 perception ; experience arises by combining percepts, 
 science by collecting and arranging experiences. Rational- 
 ism, on the other hand, asserts : All real or scientific knowl- 
 edge is derived from reason ; it is the result of the im- 
 manent evolution of consequences from a priori certain 
 principles which do not arise from experience. 
 
 Inasmuch as every theory of knowledge must answer 
 both questions and hence come to some conclusion concern- 
 
342 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 ing these antitheses, we get four possible fundamental forms 
 of epistemology. They are : 
 
 1. Bealistic Empiricism. It asserts : We know things as 
 they are in themselves by perception. This view comes 
 nearest to the popular conception. 
 
 2. Realistic Rationalism. It asserts : "We know things 
 as they are, not by the senses, but by reason. This view 
 is common to the great metaphysical systems. Plato, 
 Spinoza, and Hegel all claim that an adequate knowledge 
 of reality is reached by reason. 
 
 3. Idealistic Empiricism. It asserts ; We know of things 
 only by perception, which, of course, gives no adequate 
 knowledge. This is the view of the epistemological criti- 
 cists of rationalistic-metaphysical systems. Hume is its 
 most consistent representative. 
 
 4. Idealistic Rationalism. It asserts : We can know 
 reality a priori by pure reason ; however, not as it is in 
 itself, but only as it appears to us, and only as to its form. 
 This is Kant's view. 
 
 Historians of philosophy also mention another form of 
 epistemology : Skepticism, which asserts that we can know 
 nothing at all. Every once in a while some one takes the 
 trouble to refute this view. It seems to me to be a super- 
 fluous endeavor. Whether real skepticism ever existed or 
 not, one thing is certain : it has become extinct in modern 
 times. No great philosopher now doubts the existence of 
 real knowledge, that differs from ignorance. Hume is com- 
 monly mentioned as the representative of skepticism. It is 
 true, Hume juggled with the term, and he has been suffi- 
 ciently punished for it by having his views misinterpreted. 
 But he never dreamed of saying that science does not 
 exist. He simply maintained, on the one hand, that natu- 
 ral theology with its arguments for the existence of God 
 and the immortality of the soul is no science ; on the other, 
 that it is impossible to know facts except by experience, 
 and hence that there can be no universal and necessary 
 knowledge of facts. — It was Kant who stamped Hume as a 
 skeptic, against whom the sciences or the possibility of me- 
 taphysics, physics, and even mathematics, must be vindi- 
 cated. As far as pure mathematics is concerned, Kant's 
 
INTROD UGTOR Y REMARKS. 343 
 
 criticism of Hume's skepticism rests on an absolute misun- 
 derstanding. As far as metaphysics is concerned, he 
 repudiates rational theology, cosmology, and psychology 
 no less than Hume. Physics remains ; both grant that 
 there is such a science. Only, they differ in their notions 
 concerning the form and the nature of its certainty. Kant 
 thinks it contains absolutely universal and necessary prop- 
 ositions (synthetical judgments a priori), while, according 
 to Hume, even the principles are merely experiential prop- 
 ositions that are probably universal ; a difference of opinion 
 which is not properly characterized by the statement that 
 Hume denies the possibility of physics altogether. 
 
 As far as I can see, the same may be said of all other 
 so-called skeptics. They do not deny the possibility or the 
 existence of science, but simply emphasize the limitations 
 and uncertainty of human science, when compared with a 
 possible ideal of knowledge, such, for example, as might 
 exist in a divine mind. In reality the skepticism of modern 
 philosophy invariably combats the presumptuous claims 
 of transcendent speculation ; it is Janus-faced in so far 
 as it either defends religious faith or empirical research 
 against the encroachments of speculation. 
 
CHAPTEE I. 
 
 THE PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE, OR THE 
 RELATION OF KNOWLEDGE TO REALITY. 
 
 1. The Idealistic Train of Thought. 
 
 Hebe too we start out from the popular conception 
 whose standpoint is naive Realism. It is convinced that 
 our ideas resemble the things as copies resemble their 
 originals ; that is, the true ideas, for the false ones are false 
 simply because they are not true copies of reality. Hence 
 outside in space there are bodies in motion ; they are ex- 
 tended, impenetrable, have form, color, taste, smell, etc. ; 
 all these are absolute qualities that are impressed upon our 
 presentation by the senses, as it were. 
 
 Upon reflection all kinds of doubts arise. The senses 
 deceive us, at least at times. A stick in the water appears 
 to the eye as broken. Here the sense of touch corrects 
 the illusion. But what controls the sense of touch ? The 
 fever-patient sees and hears things that do not exist ; he 
 mistakes hallucinations for percepts. The dreamer believes 
 in the reality of what his dreams picture to him. What 
 criterion have we for distinguishing hallucinations and 
 dreams from real percepts? The fever-patient does not 
 think he is sick, and the dreamer knows nothing of his 
 dreaming. Indeed, it sometimes happens that we dream : 
 This time it is no dream that I am flying or that I am find- 
 ing a treasure, but absolute reality. — Or conceptual think- 
 ing, seeking to justify its better right, rebels against sense- 
 perception. Motion is not conceivable, Zeno argues, hence 
 it cannot exist, unless we are willing to say that a body 
 can be and not be in the same place at the same time. 
 Hence the senses, which give us the idea of motion, delude 
 us. And Plato takes up the argument : Perception pictures 
 
 344 
 
Chap. I.] THE IDEALISTIC TRAIN OF THOUGHT. 345 
 
 reality as in a state of growth and decay, i.e., as both being 
 and not being. Since that is inconceivable, it cannot be 
 real ; consequently the entire sensuous conception of things 
 is a great illusion. Truth can be found only in conceptual 
 thought, which deals with unchangeable objects, like math- 
 ematics. 
 
 In modern times we have, instead of such puzzles and 
 dialectical arguments, reflections on the nature of normal 
 perception, that are based on the physiology of sensation. 
 They have completely destroyed naive realism. We may 
 outline such reasonings about as follows : We call a food 
 wholesome, a fruit palatable. What does that mean ? Is 
 the wholesomeness in the food, or the relish in the apple ? 
 Apparently not ; even common-sense sees that ; it is in the 
 person eating the food. In the apple there is nothing but 
 the power to affect the sense of taste in a certain way. We 
 call sugar sweet. Is the case different ? Perhaps common- 
 sense will hesitate : Why, sugar is really sweet in itself. 
 Of course it is, but what does that mean ? Upon closer 
 examination you will find it to mean simply that sugar 
 placed on the tongue tastes sweet. If it did not taste 
 sweet, you would not say that it is sweet. The taste, how- 
 ever, is surely not in the sugar, bat in you. There may be 
 a power in it, a property that gives you such a taste. If 
 there were no tongue, nothing would taste either sweet or 
 bitter, and there would be neither sw r eetness nor bitterness 
 in the world. And the same will be true of the qualities 
 perceived by the eye and ear. If there were no ear, there 
 would be no sounds ; if there were no eye, light and colors 
 would not exist. All we can assign to things is a property 
 or the power of affecting the sense-organs in such a 
 manner as to produce certain sensations in consciousness. 
 Modern natural science has discovered this force ; we 
 know that the movement of air-waves or some other elastic 
 medium is what produces the sensation of sound ; that 
 the oscillatory motion of the ether arouses the sensation 
 of light. 
 
 Here epistemological reflection usually makes its first 
 stop. We should then have the following conception : 
 Bodies exist outside in space ; they are extended, impene- 
 
346 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 trable, movable, and endowed with all kinds of powers. 
 The qualities yielded by sense-perception do not, however, 
 belong to them as properties ; these are in the subject only, 
 the things merely possess the power of arousing them. 
 Moreover, there is absolutely no similarity between such 
 powers and their effects. The sound does not resemble 
 the air-vibrations which excite the auditory nerve ; nor 
 does light resemble ether-waves ; nor is green a copy of 
 the nature of the body which reflects green light. The 
 sensible qualities are mere symbols of reality, just as let- 
 ters are symbols of sounds, words symbols of ideas ; they 
 are not similar copies. 
 
 The epistemological reflection of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury did not go beyond this view. Descartes, Hobbes, 
 Spinoza, and Locke agree that sensible qualities exist only 
 in the consciousness of the subject ; outside of us, however, 
 there are bodies in motion by which such sensations are 
 aroused. Locke formulated this view in his classification 
 of primary and secondary qualities. The primary qualities 
 are extension, impenetrability, divisibility, and motion ; 
 they belong to the body as such, which is proved by the 
 fact that they belong to all bodies, even to their smallest 
 parts, and that they belong to them under all circumstances. 
 The secondary qualities, color, taste, smell, and the like, 
 do not belong to bodies as such, but only in relation to our 
 sensibility. Even in our day, many physiologists and phi- 
 losophers do not go beyond this view. 
 
 I do not believe that we can stop here. The distinction 
 between primary and secondary qualities cannot be adhered 
 to. Extension, solidity, and motion are no more absolute 
 qualities of things than colors and sounds. The same 
 arguments that lead us to refer the secondary qualities to 
 the subject compel us to assume the subjectivity of the so- 
 called primary qualities. 
 
 In the first place, we get our ideas of them from the 
 same source, from perception, or at least not without per- 
 ception. Without the sense of sight and the sense of touch, 
 we could no more talk of extension and solidity than of 
 sounds without hearing. Let us imagine a man born not 
 only without the sense of sight but also without the senses 
 
Chap. L] THE IDEALISTIC TRAIN OF THOUGHT. 347 
 
 of touch and motion, a man who has never exjoerienced the 
 movement of his own limbs or the resistance opposed to 
 them by his surroundings. It would be just as impossible 
 to make clear to him what a body is as it would be to make 
 clear to a blind man what red or blue is. Hence corporeal- 
 ity is a constituent of perception. 
 
 Moreover, what is true of secondary qualities is true here 
 also : Perception does not passively derive its content 
 from the external world ; it produces the same spontane- 
 ously. Common-sense will be inclined to reason as fol- 
 lows : Extension is immediately perceived, the eye re- 
 ceives surface-images of extended bodies, the general 
 intuition of space, however, is an abstraction from the 
 spatial perceptual images. A little reflection on the facts 
 of physiology will show the error of this notion. It is 
 true, a spatial image of the object is traced on the retina, 
 but this picture is not the percept. A percept is produced 
 only when the impressions which the light-rays make 
 upon the terminations of the optic nerve in the retina are 
 conducted to the brain by the fibres of this nerve. But the 
 actual image is, of course, not transmitted to the brain : the 
 image is not detachable nor can the nerve-fibres transport 
 such images. And even if the image could be detached and 
 carried piece-meal over the separate fibres of the optic nerve 
 to the brain, as through pneumatic tubes, and even if it could 
 be joined together again in the brain, that would do us no 
 good, for the brain is dark. And even if light were brought 
 into it, that would not help us either, for we should need 
 another eye to apprehend the image, and another brain to 
 receive it. Hence whether there is extension in the external 
 world or not, the space-picture is under no circumstances 
 carried in from the external world, but produced anew on 
 occasion of some excitation, just like sound or color. And 
 the same is true of the impressions of the tactile sense. 
 Finished spatial copies of bodies cannot be transported 
 into consciousness by the touch-nerves. Lotze sets forth 
 these arguments in a very convincing manner in his Medi- 
 zinische Psychologie : Not extended images, but qualitatively 
 different excitations are conducted to the brain by the 
 separate fibres of the sense-nerves, and these cause the 
 
348 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 soul itself to construct the perceptual image. Consequently 
 we have no more ground for regarding extension as an ab- 
 solute determination or property of the things themselves 
 than color or taste. 
 
 This conception destroys the objective existence of the 
 body. A body, we should accordingly say, is a subjective 
 creation that is produced by our intelligence on occasion 
 of certain excitations. At any rate, we have no reason for 
 asserting that something similar to our idea of a body 
 exists outside of our world of ideas. Extension, solidity, 
 and motion, like smells and tastes, colors and sounds, 
 must be regarded as mere symbols of a transcendent 
 reality. 
 
 Berkeley was the first to see the logical consequence 
 of the epistemological reflection on the nature of percep- 
 tion, and to draw it without hesitation. Bodies are ideas, 
 their existence consists in being perceived (esse est percipi). 
 Besides, the older metaphysical school proceeding from 
 different starting-points had again and again approached 
 this conception; thus, for example, Spinoza and, in a 
 greater degree, Leibniz. So Plato in Greek philosophy. 
 All of them came to the conclusion that the spatial world 
 cannot be the absolute reality ; extension and divisibility 
 are not compatible with absolute reality. The historical 
 importance of Berkeley rests on the fact that he made epis- 
 temological idealism the basis for metaphysical idealism. 
 
 Kant introduced this conception into German philoso- 
 phy : The corporeal world or the whole of nature is a 
 phenomenal world that is subjectively conditioned. And 
 subsequently epistemological idealism forms the starting- 
 point for metaphysical idealism. This happens in a meas- 
 ure in Kant's own philosophy, although here metaphysics 
 is squeezed in between the theory of knowledge and morals, 
 and does not attain to an independent existence ; but it h 
 decidedly the case with speculative philosophy as well as 
 with Schopenhauer and Herbart and their successors. 
 
 It is furthermore worthy of note that Kant leads his 
 readers and, as it seems, was himself led to phenome- 
 nalism from a different starting-point, namely, from the 
 critical reflection on the nature of space and time. What is 
 
Chap. I.] THE IDEALISTIC TRAIN OF THOUGHT. 349 
 
 space in and for itself ? Common-sense, which regards it 
 as an independent reality, imagines it to be somewhat like 
 an empty vessel in which things exist and move. Even if 
 the things were absent, empty space would still remain a 
 reality existing in and for itself. But as soon as we at- 
 tempt to take this view seriously, countless difficulties 
 arise. What is this empty space anyhow ? What is it 
 that makes empty space more than nothing ? Or, of what 
 do the walls of the vessels consist? Or has it no walls at 
 all, is it unbounded ? It surely must be, for to imagine 
 space as limited is utterly impossible ; every boundary 
 irresistibly points to something beyond. Well, a vessel 
 that has no w r alls, and of which we cannot say anything at 
 all and cannot tell in what it differs from nothing, is indeed 
 a very strange reality, and Kant is not to be blamed for 
 calling it " a real chimera" {ein seindes Unding). The same 
 remarks apply to time, the empty vessel containing all 
 occurrences. Nay, the matter becomes even more wonder- 
 ful here. Time consists of the past and of the future, 
 which are separated by the movable present. Since, how- 
 ever, the past no longer exists and the future does not yet 
 exist, time would be a reality consisting of two halves 
 neither of which is real. 
 
 Kant believes that you can escape from all these diffi- 
 culties if you make up your mind to say : Space and time 
 are not existing realities ; as such they would indeed be 
 " real chimeras," but they are the subject's forms of intui- 
 tion. Space is the form of external intuition, that is, the 
 subjective arrangement of the visual and tactile sensations, 
 to which also all other sensations are reduced. Similarly, 
 time is the form of the inner sense. Of course, these forms 
 of perception are not to be considered as ready-made 
 empty drawers ; they are merely functions that bring all 
 elements into an ordered relation with each other. They 
 are not innate either; though based on inherited ten- 
 dencies, they are acquired or developed in the course of a 
 lifetime. Empty space and empty time would then be our 
 notion of the general possibility of bringing bodies and 
 movements and inner processes into such particular rela- 
 tions with each other. This conception also removes the 
 
350 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 strange perplexity involved in the question : Are space 
 and time finite or infinite ? Our answer will be : Neither 
 the one nor the other. We cannot say of a numerical 
 series : It is finite or it is infinite ; but only : We can de- 
 velop it from any given point. The same holds of space 
 and time. It is possible to proceed from any given point 
 in any direction whatever. There are no more obstacles in 
 the way of our synthesis of space and time than in addi- 
 tion. Nor does analysis hit upon ultimate parts any more 
 than division. 
 
 Kant embodies his meditations in the formula : Space 
 and time have empirical reality, but transcendental ideality. 
 For our perception of reality, space and time are universal 
 and necessary conditions, and hence whatever is true of 
 space and time in general is also true of nature, which is 
 nothing but space and time filled with phenomena. But it 
 is not true of things-in-themselves. We have no reason to 
 believe that the order of our sensations is an absolute 
 order of reality as such. Or to express the thought more 
 concretely : We may imagine beings whose sense-organs 
 and percepts are different from ours, and who therefore 
 have different forms of arranging the elements. We can 
 imagine an intellect for which neither the " before " and 
 " after " nor " the outside " and " by the side of " have 
 value or meaning. The parts of the mathematical demon- 
 stration or calculation are not outside of each other in 
 space ; their symbols, the signs, are ; the factors themselves, 
 however, are not, nor do they come before or after each 
 other. It is true, in the consciousness of the man who 
 works out the problem they occur in succession, but that 
 is an accident ; in themselves they are simultaneous, or 
 rather, they have no relation to time at all. For a perfect 
 consciousness only the inner conceptual relations of the 
 elements would be present, without any intermixture of 
 spatiality and time. Now if we imagine that the things 
 themselves are like numbers, and that the same inner rela- 
 tions exist between them as between numbers, then the 
 most perfect conception of reality would be that of the 
 mathematician who can comprehend all these elements and 
 their relations at a single glance or thought. And if we 
 
Chap. I.] THE IDEALISTIG TRAIN OF THOUGHT 851 
 
 are now further assured that the reality of existence con- 
 sists in its being thought, we shall have the notion which 
 Kant introduces for the sake of clearness — the notion of 
 an intellectus archetypus, of a creative and non-sensuous 
 thinking. Our knowledge of reality, however, is external 
 and contingent ; our intelligence does not create reality, 
 but by coming in contact with the existing world it is stim- 
 ulated to produce sensations, and these do not express the 
 nature of objects as much as our own nature. Nor does 
 our intelligence grasp the real relations of things, the 
 inner mathematico-logical or sesthetico-teleological arrange- 
 ment of the elements of reality, but, instead, orders our 
 sensations externally, in space and time. 
 
 To these reflections Kant adds another : Our intel- 
 lectual forms, like our forms of intuition, have only empir- 
 ical, not transcendent, validity. Causality and substantial- 
 ity, the two highest categories, are subjectively necessary 
 forms of ordering our perceptions, and not existent forms 
 of absolute reality. 
 
 Such premises seem to necessitate an absolutely uni- 
 versal phenomenalism. The world of ideas nowhere coin- 
 cides with reality ; we have no adequate knowledge either 
 of the outer or of the inner world. 
 
 One more step is possible : the abandonment of things- 
 in-themselves. Fichte is usually credited with having con- 
 sistently completed the Kantian thought by repudiating 
 things-in-themselves. For things-in-themselves, it is held, 
 are really at variance with Kant's presuppositions. We 
 cannot enter the system without things-in-themselves, and 
 we cannot remain in it if we retain them. We have ideas ; 
 how can we pass from them to things-in-themselves ? Kant 
 says : The latter affect us. Hence, according to the law of 
 causality he argues from sensations as effects to the 
 existence of things-in-themselves as causes. But he himself, 
 it is claimed, has made such an inference impossible by 
 conceding to the law of causality only empirical-immanent 
 and not transcendent validity. 
 
 Absolute phenomenalism would then be the ultimate 
 outcome of our reasonings : My world of ideas constitutes 
 the only reality ; beyond that there is nothing. 
 
352 PROBLEM OF TEE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II- 
 
 2. Reconstruction of the Realistic Conception for the 
 Inner World. 
 
 I shall preface my examination of the phenomenalistie 
 train of thought with a remark concerning the point just 
 mentioned. Many an elaborate treatise in the epistemo- 
 logical literature of the present might make it appear as 
 though there were really danger of our being forced to 
 think : The world is the sum of my percepts and ideas, 
 and outside of these there is nothing real whatever. I do 
 not believe that the danger is very great. No normal 
 mind, and perhaps no abnormal one either, ever, even for 
 a moment, doubted the existence of a world independent of 
 its own ideas. Nor did it ever enter Fichte's head to be- 
 lieve that he, Johann Gottlieb, and his thoughts made up 
 the whole of reality. Hence we may for the present regard 
 the refutation of so-called solipsism as a superfluous under- 
 taking. The question is not : Do things exist outside of 
 my world of ideas? but what does the claim mean, and 
 how do we come to believe that a reality exists independ- 
 ently of our ideas, of which I and my ideas form an infi- 
 nitely small part ? If the ego knows of the world only 
 through its own ideas, how does it happen to pass from 
 them to an absolutely existing reality ? 
 
 It seems proper that I should consider the other prob- 
 lem first : Is there any ground for the assertion of pheno- 
 menalism that our knowledge nowhere coincides with 
 reality, that we have as little adequate knowledge of our 
 own inner life as of the world outside of us ? 
 
 First, a word concerning the meaning and import of the 
 question. It has been said that phenomenalism as it is 
 taught by Kant is really a hopeless skepticism ; what room 
 is there for knowledge if I cannot even know the real 
 essence of my own self ? Kant's Critique, it is held, really 
 destroys knowledge. The attempt has even been made to 
 connect Faust's complaint, 
 
 Ich sehe dass wir nichts wissen können! 
 Das will mir schier das Herz verbrennen, 
 
 with Kant's Critique. 
 
 Such complaints and accusations are utterly groundless. 
 
Chap. I.] REALISTIC CONCEPTION OF THE INNER WORLD. 353 
 
 Above all, it must be said : No theory of knowledge causes 
 the slightest change in the stock and the value of our 
 knowledge. The sciences remain what they were before ; 
 knowledge is not going to be abolished or destroyed by a 
 theoretical reflection on knowledge. And the sciences will 
 have the same value for us as before ; neither their prac- 
 tical nor their theoretical value is diminished by criticism. 
 Our astronomy, physics, psychology, and history remain 
 what they are, and they accomplish the same results, 
 regardless of the outcome of subsequent epistemolog- 
 ical reflections. Indeed, their historical development seems 
 to be absolutely independent of epistemology. 
 
 Perhaps the misunderstanding is due to an improper 
 use of terms. Kant's view is often stated in the formula : 
 We know the phenomenon only ; we cannot penetrate into 
 the inner essence of things. This seems to indicate a cer- 
 tain defect in our knowledge that could be ascertained and 
 removed if only our intellect were enlarged and enlightened. 
 When we say, the nature of the aurora borealis or of 
 electricity is as yet unknown ; or, I do not clearly under- 
 stand that man, we point out a defect in our knowledge ; 
 for the present we know only the external phenomenon and 
 not its ultimate causes ; or, I know what the man looks 
 like, what position he occupies in society, but I am unac- 
 quainted with his character, his principles, and his views, 
 hence I do not know what to expect of him. When I know 
 all that, when my knowledge of him is based on my long 
 and friendly association with him, when I am certain how 
 he is going to act and judge in a given case, then I say : I 
 know the essence of the man. 
 
 The distinction, however, between a phenomenon and a 
 thing-in-itself .in epistemology means something quite dif- 
 ferent. If I had the most perfect knowledge of the disposi- 
 tion, the character, and the previous life of a man, so that 
 I could predict his behavior with as much certainty as I 
 can foretell an eclipse of the moon, still, according to 
 Kant, I should not have anything but a knowledge of 
 phenomena : I should know nothing whatever of the soul 
 itself, nothing whatever of what it is in itself or in its 
 essence. 
 
354 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 "What shall we say of the statement that we know things 
 only as they appear, not as they are in themselves ? Has it 
 any foundation ? Let us first investigate the knowledge of 
 our own inner life. Here, too, the assertion is made : we 
 must distinguish between the phenomenon and the thing- 
 in-itself. Even the ego does not know itself as it is in 
 itself, but only as it appears to itself. The essence of the 
 soul, which manifests itself in states of consciousness, is as 
 impervious to knowledge as the essence of the things, 
 which occur in consciousness as a corporeal world in mo- 
 tion. Is there any truth in the claim ? 
 
 I do not believe that we have any ground for saying so. 
 Two assertions are included in the proposition : first, out- 
 side of or behind conscious states, the phenomena of soul- 
 life, we have an additional element, the soul itself as a 
 thing-in-itself ; secondly, we do not know this thing-in- 
 itself. The second item is undoubtedly true : all that we 
 know of our self is in fact such states of sensation, presenta- 
 tion, feeling, and striving ; a thing called soul or ego never 
 occurs in our self-consciousness. But, we must immediately 
 add, the first statement is without foundation : a separate 
 thing called " soul " does not exist in reality. The notion 
 of a soul having I know not what kind of reality as a thing- 
 in-itself, apart from soul-life, is a barren abstraction. The 
 soul itself is nothing but the unity of psychical life ; its 
 existence is identical with its "phenomena"; there is no 
 such thing as a dark residuum of reality which knowledge 
 fails to penetrate. 
 
 Although this conception has already been established 
 above (pp. 129 ff.), the subject is of such importance for 
 epistemology and metaphysics as to demand fuller consid- 
 eration here. Whoever desires to reach a sound philosophy 
 must sooner or later grapple with the question of a " soul- 
 in-itself." 
 
 According to the notions of common-sense, reality is 
 constructed about as follows. There are three kinds or 
 stages of reality : (1) reality of the first order — the things 
 or substances ; (2) reality of the second order — properties or 
 powers ; (3) reality of the third order — activities, events, and 
 relations. 
 
Chap. L] REALISTIC CONCEPTION OF THE INNER WORLD. 355 
 
 The reality of the third order has the least independence. 
 To become real, activities or events need some other thing 
 bj which they are temporarily introduced into existence ; 
 they need powers. But the powers or properties cannot 
 exist by themselves either ; they, too, require something else 
 in which to inhere, that is, substances. The latter alone 
 are self-dependent and need nothing else in order to exist, 
 hence they constitute reality in the true sense of the word. 
 The substances, again, popular metaphysics, following Des- 
 cartes, divides into two classes, into corporeal or extended, 
 and spiritual or thinking substances without extension. 
 They have different powers, corresponding to their different 
 natures. The general powers or qualities belonging to 
 bodies are : impenetrability, weight, chemical affinities, in 
 short, powers of attraction and repulsion. As psychical 
 powers, however, we are to regard the faculty of sensation, 
 memory, imagination, appetition, feeling, and will. 
 
 Is this a tenable hypothesis of the inner constitution of 
 reality? Let us first direct our attention to the properties 
 or powers. Do they really constitute a self-existent ele- 
 ment of reality in addition to the phenomena or manifesta- 
 tions ? Let us take any body whatever, a piece of chalk 
 for example. It has a number of powers or properties. 
 First, it has the quality of impenetrability, or the power to 
 prevent other bodies from penetrating the space which it 
 occupies ; then it has the quality of whiteness or the power 
 to reflect light falling upon it, in a particular manner ; 
 further, the quality of weight or the power to exert a press- 
 ure upon its support, or, if the support be removed, to exe- 
 cute a certain movement ; it has, moreover, the property 
 of a writing material, or the power to make white lines on 
 a slate. What does all this mean ? Do all these qualities 
 or forces dwell in the chalk as separate realities, can we 
 see them in it or otherwise discern them ? Does the power 
 to draw lines, or, to be more exact, to draw white lines on 
 a black slate, inhere in the chalk as a characteristic, con- 
 stantly-present, persistent element of reality? And of 
 course a corresponding power or faculty of having lines 
 drawn upon it dwells in the slate. And is there in the 
 hand, besides the thousand other powers which it has, a 
 
356 PROBLEM OF TEE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 writing-power, and does this exist in many forms as a 
 chalk-, pencil-, or pen-power, as a German-, Latin-, Greek- 
 letter-writing power? Surely no one believes that. To 
 say that chalk has the power to draw lines means nothing 
 but this : when it is passed over a rough surface, particles 
 are detached from it which adhere to the slate and show 
 traces of the movement. The lines are not in the chalk, 
 nor does a line-power dwell in it ; we simply anticipate 
 what will happen under certain circumstances. Such fore- 
 seen events — we call them possible — we combine, hypoth- 
 esize, and then assign to the chalk as a permanent posses- 
 sion. The same may be said of the other powers : we 
 foresee that the chalk will, under certain circumstances, 
 act in a particular manner, that it will, in a certain meas- 
 ure, move, exert pressure, and accelerate another body. 
 We hypothesize such anticipated processes, and ascribe 
 them to the body as weight. And the same remarks apply 
 to the active energy of a body in motion ; the work which 
 we expect of it we project into it as a force. Energy is 
 therefore not a separate, existing reality, but a form of 
 thought, by which we represent the connection of phenom- 
 ena. A power is denned by its possible effects or by the 
 work it performs. The explanation finds its complete ex- 
 pression in a law of nature which states the amount of 
 acceleration possible in a given mass.* 
 
 The same is true of the powers of the mental sub- 
 stances. Here the matter is still more evident. We speak 
 of moral powers, of a power of self-control, of courage. 
 We simply mean that we expect a certain kind of behavior 
 of a man when danger or temptation threatens him. We 
 do not mean to say that self-control is situated in the soul 
 as a peculiar substantial something. The same remarks 
 apply to the memory, the intellect, the will, and to other 
 powers of the soul. Psychology has long ago seen into 
 that. Among the Germans it was especially Herbart who 
 emphasized this point : the psychical faculties are not 
 separate elements of reality and explanatory causes ; ideas, 
 
 * See the discussion of the concept of force in Fechner, Physik unct 
 philos. Atomenlehre , 117 ff., and in Wandt, System der Philos., 297 ff. Cf. 
 also Helmholtz, Populäre wissenschaftliche Vorträge, 2. Heft, p. 190. 
 
Chap I.] REALISTIC CONCEPTION OF THE INNER WORLD. 357 
 
 desires, and feelings are the realities, and the problem of 
 science consists in discovering the uniform relations exist- 
 ing between such processes. Should any one find it 
 impossible to part with powers as separate elements of 
 reality inhering in substances, let him try his hand at an- 
 swering such puzzling questions as the following : Is the 
 power always active ? What is it doing when it is not act- 
 ing ? Are these powers scattered through the entire space 
 which the body occupies ? And how are they housed in 
 unextended substances or connected with them ? 
 
 If we abandon the notion of such intermediary powers, 
 substances and events remain as explanations of reality. 
 How about the substances ? Are they separate realities 
 alongside of the accidents ? 
 
 Let us first consider the soul-substance. The opinion 
 is that, in addition to the sensations, ideas, feelings, and 
 desires, the soul itself exists as a separate reality or, to 
 use Herbart's expression, as a real ; that states of con- 
 sciousness are merely activities of the soul, not, however, 
 the soul itself. They may come and go, they may also, at 
 least temporarily, disappear entirely, but the soul-substance 
 remains as an unchanged and undiminished reality. 
 
 It seems to me to be utterly impossible to adhere to 
 this conception. Soul-substances are exactly what soul- 
 powers are, hypostatizations of processes ; they are, one 
 might say, hypostatizations raised to the second power. 
 The soul-substance is the faculty of the faculties, the gen- 
 eral faculty of such special faculties. As a power can be 
 defined only by its effects, so a substance can be defined 
 only by its powers ; it is nothing but the sum- total of 
 powers, hence, in the last analysis, a totality of possible 
 events. The life of the soul consists in its activities, in 
 the unity of correlated psychical states. If we take away 
 the latter, no remainder is left over. States of conscious- 
 ness constitute the real reality ; they do not need anything 
 else, a soul-substantiality, to make them real or to hold 
 and support them in reality. There is no such thing as 
 that. 
 
 Common-sense will at first consider it hard, if not ab- 
 solutely impossible, to abandon the notion of a bearer or 
 
358 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II 
 
 support. Surely, a sensation or a feeling cannot exist ab- 
 solutely ; there must be a sensible or feeling being present 
 that has it. Can there be an idea without some one to 
 have it ? Why, language itself repudiates the unreasona- 
 ble claim. And how are we going to explain facts like the 
 unity of consciousness, attention, self-observation, or self- 
 control, without a soul ? 
 
 Well, of course a soul exists, and it is not our purpose 
 to get rid of it, but simply to come to some agreement as 
 to what it is. Our contention is that it is not an unchange- 
 able, rigid, absolutely persistent little point of reality, 
 which, existing in and for itself, acts as a support for pow- 
 ers and processes, but the unity of psychical activity, the 
 sum of the correlated conscious and subconscious inner 
 states themselves. Each particular state in this totality is 
 and is felt as a part belonging to the whole. The little 
 bits of universal " reality-stuff," however, which some as- 
 sume, have no real existence at all ; they are nothing but 
 the hypostasized shadows of false metaphysical notions. 
 
 The self-existent soul-substance is not so priceless and 
 indispensable a possession of thought as popular meta- 
 physics imagines. We may, perhaps, most easily convince 
 ourselves of this truth by trying, at some time or other, to 
 answer such questions as these : In what does the essence 
 of the soul-substance consist? It must surely have an in- 
 dependent existence of its own, apart from its accidents, 
 for it is supposed to be the precondition of the latter. 
 Then what is it? Can you tell me? Or are you in the 
 same predicament that confronted Locke when he exam- 
 ined the notion of substance ? He finds that it is some- 
 thing or other, the essence of which cannot be ascertained.* 
 
 * Essay, n. ch. 23 : "So that if any one will examine himself concern- 
 ing his notion of pure substance in general, he will find he has no other 
 ideas of it at all, but only a supposition of he knows not what support of 
 such qualities which are capable of producing simple ideas in us." If any 
 one should be asked, What is the support wherein these qualities inhere ? 
 " he would not be in a much better case than the Indian before mentioned, 
 who, saying that the world was supported by a great elephant, was asked 
 what the elephant rested on ; to which the answer was, a great tortoise. 
 But being again pressed to know what gave support to the broad-backed 
 tortoise, replied, something, he knew not what." 
 
Chap. I.] BE ALISTIG CONCEPTION OF THE INNER WORLD. 359 
 
 Well, in that event you will certainly be able to tell us 
 what it does or accomplishes. To be sure, it is the sup- 
 port to which the accidents adhere or in which they inhere. 
 But what do these terms mean ? I know very well what 
 you mean when you say : The horse supports the rider. 
 Does the soul support its thoughts in the same way ? Or 
 does a passion adhere to it as color adheres to the canvass ? 
 You answer : Such expressions are inappropriate figures 
 of speech. "Well, then make clear to us the meaning of 
 your words. Perhaps you will say : I mean that the sub- 
 stance evolves the accidents out of its essence or is realized 
 in them ? But let us be sure whether that will mend mat- 
 ters. I know very well what you mean when you declare : 
 A tree produces buds and fruit ; a seed is realized in the 
 shoots, cotyledons, etc., which it produces. But I really 
 do not know what you mean by saying that an immaterial 
 something or other brings forth ideas and feelings. It 
 seems to me these are mere empty words — drafts, as it 
 were, on a meaning which the imagination refuses to accept. 
 But you reply: Surely the unity of self consciousness 
 can be explained only by a unified and persistent soul-sub- 
 stance. I confess, I cannot understand what good such a 
 substantiality is going to do us. It is a fact that our inner 
 states are not isolated occurrences, and that each state is 
 conscious of belonging to the unified whole of a particular 
 individual life. I am no more able to explain how such a 
 thing can happen than I can tell how consciousness itself 
 is possible. One thing, however, I think I can clearly see : 
 Such a hypothetical " support," the something or other 
 which is dubbed soul-substance, does not by any means 
 make the subject more intelligible ; it is itself a riddle, but 
 not the solution of a riddle. Can the mere fact that the 
 states a, b, c, " inhere " in the same A produce the conscious- 
 ness of their unity ? In that case, every combination of ac- 
 cidents in a substance would be self-consciousness. Hence 
 the soul-substance needs another special quality in order 
 that its accidents may become parts of a unified conscious- 
 ness. And the problem would consequently be to ascertain 
 what this quality is, if the notion of substantiality is to do 
 us any good. But, as far as I can see, we really lose noth- 
 
360 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 ing at all by abandoning this " something, I know not 
 what." 
 
 To be sure, we should not therefore conclude that there 
 is no soul, but simply : The soul is the plurality of inner 
 experiences combined into a unity, in a manner not further 
 definable. And we shall in no wise alter the popular mode 
 of expression ; we shall go right on speaking of the soul 
 and the processes occurring in it, of the thoughts which it 
 produces, and the inner feelings which it cherishes or re- 
 jects. Nor shall we have any scruples against applying the 
 word substance to the soul or against speaking of its quali- 
 ties and states. We shall not even discard the tabooed ex- 
 pression, faculty of the soul. All that we wish to do is 
 to make clear to ourselves, once for all, what these words 
 mean. It will be found that such traditional designations 
 have their raison d'etre. Only, they do not mean what a 
 metaphysical system, misled by physical atomism, thinks 
 they mean. If we designate that as substance which has 
 independent being (in Spinoza's definition : id quod in se est 
 et per se concipitur), then, indeed, the soul is substantial and 
 the particular processes contingent (in alio esse et per aliud 
 concipi). They exist and are conceived only in relation to 
 the entire soul-life. It is a fact that sensations, ideas, 
 thoughts, and strivings never, so far as we know, exist as 
 isolated states, but always only as parts of a totality of 
 inner processes called a soul-life. And the latter is not 
 like a compound, the product of ready-made, particular ele- 
 ments, but, to repeat the words of Aristotle, the whole ex- 
 ists before the parts: the particular elements are, we 
 might say, produced by the whole or posited with inner 
 necessity as belonging to it and as essential to realize the 
 whole. 
 
 An illustration will make the subject clear. A language 
 consists of words ; moreover, it consists solely of the sum- 
 total of the words and forms. Take away all the words, 
 and the language no longer exists. It does not remain be- 
 hind as a separate reality, as a language-substance, in addi- 
 tion to the words. Yet, on the other hand, it is not an 
 aggregate of previously-existing, separate words, as a wall 
 is a combination of finished stones. But language con- 
 
Chap. L] REALISTIC CONCEPTION OF THE INNER WORLD. 381 
 
 stantlj produces new words and modifies them as occasion 
 demands. Each word is a contingent, perishable accident, 
 which language creates, transforms, and finally abandons. 
 Similarly, a poem is not a combination of separate verses, 
 nor does it exist apart from the different verses as a self- 
 existent substance ; the idea of the whole posits the par- 
 ticular or unfolds itself in particulars. So, too, the soul 
 does not exist apart from or under the states of conscious- 
 ness as a hard, rigid, unchangeable real; it is merely in 
 them, not, of course, in the sense of being compounded of 
 previously-existing and independent elements ; it produces 
 the separate elements and is realized in them. Here, too, 
 the idea of the whole posits the parts : this particular 
 thought, or feeling, or desire can occur and be conceived 
 only in this particular soul, and is therefore related to the 
 latter as an accident to the substance. 
 
 Compared with the particular, inherent, dependent, and 
 transitory element of consciousness, the soul-life as a whole 
 is an independent and permanent being, a substance. If 
 that is true, we cannot, of course, stop here. This whole 
 must in turn be explained as the dependent member of a 
 larger whole. The individual life, again, is related to the 
 life of the people as an accident to its substance. The 
 people or the national soul exists only in the individual 
 souls, but here, too, not in the sense of being a combination 
 of them ; it produces them out of itself and realizes itself 
 in them. And the life of a people is in turn inserted into a 
 larger life, into the life of humanity, and is with the latter 
 included in the unified total life of the earth, the external 
 manifestation of which the physical history of the earth 
 delineates. Ultimately, however, all life emanates from an 
 all-embracing life, the unified life of God. From this di- 
 rection too, then, we are carried to the thought : God is the 
 substance, the only truly independent, self-existent being, 
 to whom every particular reality is related as a dependent 
 accident. 
 
 The idea which we have just developed is not new. In- 
 deed, it may be said to run through the entire history of 
 philosophy. I do not wish to write a history of it here, 
 but simply to suggest a few points. 
 
362 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 Epistemological reflections led Hume to it. We saw- 
 before how he scattered the mists which surrounded the 
 notion of causality in the metaphysics of the school. He 
 likewise banished the phantom of a soul-substance lurking 
 behind the activity of the soul. In the concluding sections 
 of the first book of his first work, The Treatise on Human 
 Nature, he criticises the traditional metaphysical notion of 
 a soul-substance. He regards it as having no foundation 
 whatever. It is utterly impossible for him even to com- 
 prehend the meaning of the question as to whether ideas 
 inhere in a material or an immaterial substance, much less 
 to convince himself of the necessity of assuming an imma- 
 terial substance as the bearer of ideas. He consequently 
 prefers to stop at what exists : a totality of conscious states 
 comprehended into a unity by memory and causal relations. 
 " There are some philosophers," he declares in an oft- 
 quoted passage, " who imagine we are every moment inti- 
 mately conscious of what we call our self; that we feel its 
 existence and its continuance in existence ; and are certain, 
 beyond the evidence of a demonstration, both of its per- 
 fect identity and simplicity." He goes on to state that un- 
 luckily his experience does not agree with these assertions. 
 " For my part, when I enter most intimately into what I 
 call myself, I always stumble on some particular percep- 
 tion or other, heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, 
 pain or pleasure. I never can catch myself at any time 
 without a perception, and never can observe anything but 
 the perception." 
 
 Starting out from metaphysical speculations, Spinoza, 
 whose theory, it must be confessed, Hume introduced into 
 the discussion just mentioned, transformed the concept of 
 substance or rejected the popular interpretation of it. 
 Particular things are not substances, but accidents (modi) ; 
 this is true of bodies as well as of souls. Only God, the 
 sum-total of reality, is substance and independent ; every 
 particular reality is posited in the All-One as dependent 
 and limited, with logico-mathematical necessity. To be 
 sure, God's substantiality is not to be conceived after the 
 pattern of an extended corporeal atom or of an unextended 
 psychical atom. His unity is not a contiguous or punctual 
 
 
Chap. I.] REALISTIC CONCEPTION OF THE INNER WORLD. 363 
 
 unity, but an ideal unity which, realizes itself in a plurality 
 of elements. Leibniz, too, who regards forces as constitut- 
 ing the essence of substance and finally comprehends the 
 many finite substances into the unity of the one substance,, 
 really accepts the same view. 
 
 Proceeding from Hume, Kant comes to the conclusion 
 that substantiality and inherence are to be conceived as 
 forms of thought, not as forms of existence. That is, of 
 course, equivalent to rejecting the notion that substance is. 
 a reality existing in and for itself. Substance is the per- 
 sistent element in the phenomenon. It is true, this thought 
 is afterwards somewhat obscured by the introduction of 
 the thing-in-itself, which is alleged to be behind the phe- 
 nomena. Every now and then it seems as though the 
 thing-in-itself were identical with the hidden substance, 
 the " something or other I know not what" of Locke. Fichte 
 takes up the problem at this point, and that is the real 
 significance of his oft-mentioned destruction of the thing- 
 in-itself : His fundamental conception is that being is 
 life, inner life. There is no such thing as a dead, rigid, 
 absolutely persistent being, a soul-atom behind soul-life. 
 A substance, having nothing but being, no more exists in 
 the mental world than in the corporeal world, which, in 
 truth, has no absolute existence at all, but is simply a 
 reflection of the inner world. This thought remains the 
 fundamental presupposition of all speculative philosophy, 
 within which we cannot take a single step without having 
 made it our own. Lotze gets it from this source. He em- 
 phatically rejects the notion of a universal reality-stuff, a 
 little piece of which is supposed to be concealed in every 
 real object as its innermost kernel. The soul is for him 
 nothing but an existent idea, posited, in an inconceivable 
 manner, in the form of independent activity. He does not 
 consider it as needing an additional point of support in 
 order to exist. Fechner adopts the same view, and Wundt 
 now embodies it in his concept of the actual soul.* The 
 expression suggests the actus purus of the schoolmen, 
 the pure entelechy of Aristotle : God is actus purus, not 
 
 * Lotze, Microcosmos, n. 143, in. 531; Metaphysik, 100,480; Fecliner, 
 Atomenlehre, 114; Wundt, System der Philosophie, 289, 585. 
 
364 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 dead being; his essence is the eternal thinking of the 
 absolute thought which constitutes reality. And that 
 brings us back to the original source of this entire stream 
 of thought, to Plato, the great founder of Western philoso- 
 phy : The real world is an ideal world, an existing system 
 of thoughts, and these thoughts constitute the true reality 
 itself, and need nothing else in which and through which 
 to be. The ideas are certainly not rigid images which 
 stare at the world like lubbers, but a living content, such 
 as we find realized in the soul. 
 
 Why is it that common-sense so vehemently protests 
 against this conception ? Our first feeling upon meeting it 
 for the first time is undoubtedly that it is inconceivable ; a 
 thought must be in a soul-substance, otherwise it has noth- 
 ing to hold it. And it will do no good to point out the 
 weakness of the support. Popular metaphysics, which, let 
 it be said, is not restricted to charcoal-burners and tile- 
 makers, will still insist that without something to bear it, 
 without a little block of reality to which to attach it, we 
 cannot conceive how a thought can be real. Perhaps the 
 ground for this inconceivability may be found in the fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 We may distinguish between real or logical and false or 
 'psychological necessity. The former belongs to every deduc- 
 tion that is formally correct. If you accept the premises, 
 you cannot escape the conclusion. The unreal or psycho- 
 logical necessity, however, is the result of habit. Whatever 
 we often or always see, hear, or think, at last seems neces- 
 sary to us, and its opposite impossible. When the King of 
 Siam was informed by the Dutch Ambassador that water 
 sometimes becomes so hard and firm in his country that 
 one can walk upon it, the King regarded the thing as 
 utterly inconceivable and impossible. Had he studied 
 scholastic philosophy in his youth, he would most likely 
 have insisted on proving the impossibily : To be liquid, 
 belongs to the essence of water ; hence it is impossible for 
 it to become rigid. 
 
 We meet such necessity everywhere. What I have 
 never seen is impossible ; that is the great principle which 
 governs the judgment of the average intellect. The edu- 
 
Chap. I.] REALISTIC CONCEPTION OF TUE INNER WORLD. 365 
 
 cated man who has no religion himself and who has never 
 seen any really religious people does not believe that it 
 is at all possible for any one to be religious ; those who 
 profess to be so are simply hypocrites or deceivers ; at 
 best they deceive themselves. A physiologist who has 
 never observed hypnotic phenomena confidently declares 
 such occurrences to be impossible. The same necessity of 
 thought determines our ideas of the future: what does not 
 exist to-day can and will never exist. No great change has 
 ever occurred in historical life, the impossibility of which 
 was not clearly demonstrated beforehand. "Without slav- 
 ery, intellectual culture is impossible ; without flogging, 
 discipline cannot be maintained in the army ; without the 
 Latin composition, the gymnasium is inconceivable. 
 
 The same necessity of thought controls popular physics. 
 A heavy body that is not supported must fall ; it cannot be 
 conceived as retaining its position by floating freely in 
 space. Inasmuch as the earth is a heavy body and does 
 not fall, as our senses tell us, it must be supported ; that 
 is the cardinal teaching in all primitive cosmology. Hence, 
 it either floats on water or, as the Hindoo philosopher 
 already mentioned assumes, it is supported by a huge 
 elephant, which in turn rests on a tortoise, and so forth, 
 until the questioner grows tired of asking. 
 
 Well, the necessity of the soul-substance belongs to the 
 same category. Sense-perception invariably teaches us 
 that all properties and occurrences are attached to some 
 substance : color, weight, heat, and motion are always in a 
 body, in a tangible substratum. Consequently ideas and 
 thoughts must also be attached to some substance. Popular 
 thought, of course, first regards the body as such a sub- 
 stance. But now a strange difficulty arises. Psychical 
 states cannot be attached to an extended substance ; how 
 are we to imagine a feeling of love or hatred in or upon a 
 brain or ganglionic cell ? Is the feeling itself distributed 
 over the extended mass ? Does the notion of a circle, do the 
 propositions relating to parallels, occupy a space in the 
 brain ? Perhaps when the thought is thought : It is impos- 
 sible to square the circle, a series of movements or chemi- 
 cal changes or some other processes take place in more or 
 
366 PROBLEM OF TEE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 less extended areas of the gray matter, but all that is not 
 the thought itself. It is evident, the thought cannot be 
 imagined as a process distributed in space. It is this diffi- 
 culty which gave rise to the notion of a special soul-sub- 
 stance. We cannot employ the common notion of an 
 extended substance ; we cannot abandon the substance 
 altogether ; consequently there must an unextended or 
 immaterial substance. 
 
 Of course, the immaterial substance is a marvellous 
 thing. "What it gives with one hand it takes back with the 
 other. Hence a tendency arises again to trade off this 
 unreal shadow of a substance for the real tangible thing 
 which we know how to handle. Everywhere we observe 
 how the natural tendency of thought invariably endeavors 
 again to materialize the spiritual substratum, to imagine 
 it as a fine, wholly ethereal substance. Only in this way is 
 the term rendered acceptable to the intuition ; we cannot 
 imagine the unextended, immaterial soul-atom. Hence the 
 spiritualism which needs a soul-substantiality always re- 
 lapses into materialism. The fact is, if you are unable to 
 conceive that a thought exists as an independent reality, 
 without being attached to a substance, you are necessarily 
 a materialist, however much you may protest against the 
 accusation. Spiritualism consistently carried out is possi- 
 ble only on condition that we discard such a shadowy cor- 
 poreal substance and regard psychical states as floating 
 freely in reality, just as we have accustomed ourselves to 
 conceive the heavenly bodies as floating in space unsup- 
 ported. 
 
 We now return to the original question : Do we know the 
 real essence of our own inner life ? The answer is : Cer- 
 tainly ; in consciousness it occurs as it is in itself. Feel- 
 ings, strivings, ideas, and thoughts are felt, presented, 
 thought, as they are in themselves ; indeed, their being is 
 nothing but their being felt and being thought. If now the 
 soul consists in nothing but the content of soul-life, if no 
 dark, impenetrable soul-atom is left over as a residuum, we 
 shall say : The distinction made between a phenomenon and 
 a thing-in-itself has absolutely no meaning here. Being 
 and being known coincide at this point. Of course, em- 
 
Chap. I.] REALISTIC CONCEPTION OF THE INNER WORLD. 367 
 
 pirically considered, even the knowledge of one's own ego 
 is limited and deficient. Of our past life nothing but frag- 
 ments are retained in memory, and these are joined to- 
 gether into a total view, and interpreted now in one way, 
 now in another, according to what for the time being 
 occupies the foreground of consciousness. Beneath the 
 threshold of consciousness a thousand processes are con- 
 stantly taking place, which only occasionally cast their 
 shadows into consciousness or disturb the course of our 
 ideas and emotions. Besides, the future is dark. Only 
 gradually, as life advances, is our own ego revealed to us, 
 not unfrequently disappointing our own ideas and expecta- 
 tions of ourselves. Hence a much more extensive and 
 profound knowledge of my ego than I possess is undoubt- 
 edly conceivable. In a measure and under certain circum- 
 stances such a knowledge may be acquired even by others. 
 The biographer who possesses the advantage of surveying 
 a finished life as a whole, together with its preconditions 
 and its effects upon others, often judges more clearly and 
 soundly than the hero himself. But all this simply means 
 that our knowledge of self is limited by experience. But 
 there is no such thing as transcendental limitation here ; 
 no distinction can be made between a thing-in-itself and a 
 phenomenon. And so we regain the first and fixed point for 
 a realistic view of knowledge : I know reality as it is in it- 
 self in so far as Tarn that reality myself. 
 
 Let me briefly consider an objection that might be 
 raised against this assertion on the strength of a previous 
 discussion. "We agreed with Kant that time is not an ab- 
 solutely existent order of the absolute reality, but a sub- 
 jective form of intuition, and I do not believe that we can 
 retract our statement. Time can be construed only as an 
 order of arrangement for the elements of consciousness. It 
 is conceivable that for a different intelligence the order of 
 the before and after does not hold, or at least not in the 
 same way ; it may perceive reality as timeless, sub specie 
 wternitatis, to use Spinoza's expression. But inasmuch as 
 we necessarily present our inner life as taking place in 
 time, our knowledge of self also seems to become phenom- 
 enal. 
 
368 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 I reply : Here too we have to deal with an empirical 
 rather than with a transcendental limitation. We cannot 
 say that this falsifies the knowledge of our own inner life. 
 Such an absolute intelligence, which would regard reality 
 as timeless, could not really see anything in my life differ- 
 ent from what I see. If it did, I should say : I am not 
 what you see ; the phenomenality or inadequacy is all in 
 you. Such a hypothetical absolute intellect does not per- 
 ceive a different content from my own, it simply sees it 
 differently ; it has a more comprehensive, an all-embracing 
 view of the same content. A thousand years would be but 
 a single moment for a being that would survey the yearly 
 revolution of the sun around the earth at a glance, as our 
 eye sees the oscillation of a second-pendulum, or that 
 would survey the evolution of a planetary system as we 
 see the growth and the withering of a blossom. In the 
 sight of the Eternal One, time vanishes altogether. He sees 
 the past and the future as one ; at every moment he sees 
 all causes and all effects, that is, he sees reality as a unified 
 whole, as an ideal system in which each element is condi- 
 tioned by the whole and is essential to the whole. The 
 boy who is learning to read, first sees letters only, gradually 
 he notices words, then he learns how to construct sentences 
 and to understand their meaning, and finally the man is- 
 able to comprehend a book as one single great thought 
 which unfolds its content in a plurality of elements. The 
 connection between these elements is, then, not temporal 
 but eternal. A logical or gesthetical necessity unites all the 
 parts and assigns a place to each. God perceives all things 
 in this manner ; the time-succession is lost in the inner re- 
 lation, in the inner conditional order, to use Lotze's terms 
 (Microcosmos, in. 599), according to which the most remote 
 and most immediate are combined in his consciousness. 
 Our poor consciousness strives to combine words and 
 sentences ; it can grasp even its own content, only by run- 
 ning over it successively in memory. And of the thousand 
 relations which it bears to the world, only a few are 
 occasionally noted ; of its causes and still more of its effects 
 it has but the most general knowlege. Our life is like 
 groping in a labyrinth. God's knowledge of our life is like 
 
Chap. L] THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXTERNAL WORLD. 369 
 
 the view of the man who looks down from above and 
 surveys all the tortuous passages at a glance. 
 
 3. The Knowledge of the External World. 
 
 The existent world is presented to our consciousness as 
 a world of bodies in motion. Bodies, however, — such was 
 the result of the epistemological reflection from which we 
 started out, — are phenomena, subjective creations that are 
 composed of elements of perception and presentation. 
 Whatever we may predicate of a body — that it is sweet, 
 white, heavy, extended, impenetrable, soluble in water, 
 decomposable into such and such chemical elements — may 
 ultimately and invariably be reduced to sense-qualities and 
 percepts. Corporeal objects are permanent sensations ; 
 their essence consists in the different forms of their sensi- 
 bility. Or, to speak with J. S. Mill : Bodies are permanent 
 possibilities of sensation.* When I say, This corporeal 
 thing exists, it means when reduced to its simplest terms : 
 I am convinced that such and such percepts are possible 
 in such and such combinations. When I say, Here lies a 
 piece of paper, it means : I have certain visual percepts, 
 and I would have certain tactile sensations if I were to 
 execute certain movements. On leaving the room I say : 
 A piece of paper is lying in there on the table. This 
 means : I am convinced that if I or any one else should go 
 in, we should be able to see and feel such and such things. 
 Unless I believed that, I would not make these assertions. 
 If on going into the room I should not find what I expected, 
 I should declare : The paper has disappeared. In case I do 
 not believe in the possibility of having such percepts in 
 some place or other, I shall say : The paper no longer 
 exists, at least not in its old form ; and if I do not believe 
 in the possibility of perceiving its remnants somewhere or 
 other, in the shape of ashes or mould, I shall say : It has 
 ceased to exist altogether. Hence the relation to percep- 
 tion universally obtains. When we speak of the reality of 
 corporeal objects, we mean possibility of perception. 
 
 *J. S. Mill, An Examination of Sir W. Hamilton's Philosophy (1865), 
 cli. XI. 
 
370 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 But common-sense will reply : The paper surely re- 
 mains, even when I cease to perceive it. The elements of 
 which it consists will still be present long after life itself 
 has become extinct on our earth, just as they existed before 
 there was such a thing as life and feeling. Certainly ; only, 
 the meaning of the proposition is simply this : Had a feel- 
 ing and presenting being been present, he would have 
 been able to have such and such perceptions, he would 
 have seen the earth, say as a liquid mass of fire, and in it 
 he would have perceived the carbon, which after a thousand 
 transformations was finally converted into paper. But we 
 can never get rid of such a point of relation, a particular 
 consciousness. We may ignore it in each particular case 
 because it is a regular and universal precondition, but we 
 cannot brush it aside altogether. To assign existence and 
 qualities to a corporeal object always means to posit it as 
 the sum of possible percepts for a possible consciousness ; 
 without perception and consciousness, no body. Conse- 
 quently, bodies have only relative, not absolute, existence ; 
 or they are, to use Kant's words, phenomena for a " con- 
 sciousness in general." 
 
 Does an absolute existence, an existence in and for 
 itself, correspond to such relative existence, to the existence 
 for a consciousness ? Are the phenomena which we call 
 bodies manifestations of a reality that exists regardless of 
 my consciousness ? 
 
 Everybody is convinced that they are. We all believe 
 that the world is more than a phantasmagoria in our con- 
 sciousness, that the phenomenal corporeal world suggests a 
 thing-in-itself that appears in it. What is that thing-in- 
 itself ? Kant says : We do not know and cannot know ; it 
 is the necessary correlate of consciousness, the transcen- 
 dent. Is the case really so hopeless ? I do not believe it. 
 I think we may say with Schopenhauer and with all ideal- 
 istic philosophy : We do indeed know something about 
 what reality is in itself. Everybody believes he knows at 
 least what living creatures are in themselves. They are 
 presented to us as bodies having a peculiar structure and 
 manifold external and internal processes of movement. 
 Even the most penetrating physiological analysis reveals 
 
Chap. I.] THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXTERNAL WORLD. 371 
 
 nothing else. Nevertheless everybody believes that there 
 is still another reality present here, and that is an inner life, 
 comparable with that which he experiences in himself. 
 
 What is the ground for such a view ? Schopenhauer is 
 evidently right when he discovers the reason for it in the 
 fact that we look at ourselves from two aspects. I have im- 
 mediate knowledge of myself as a willing, feeling, perceiv- 
 ing, presentative being. On the other hand, I also know 
 myself as a corporeal being. I perceive my body and pre- 
 sent it as a corporeal object among others. Now a regular 
 correspondence occurs between processes of inner life and 
 corporeal life. Feelings are accompanied by changes in 
 the circulation and in the demeanor of the body, impulses 
 and strivings by movements in the entire organic system or 
 in parts of it. Effects on the body appear as inner states, 
 as feelings or sensations. Hence the life of my body is 
 the mirror of my soul-life ; the bodily organism is the 
 externally-perceivable expression of the will and its system 
 of impulses, the body is the visible manifestation or the 
 phenomenon of the soul. 
 
 The ego, which is thus known to itself as a dual being, 
 furnishes the key for our interpretation of the external 
 world. Schopenhauer calls to mind the bilingual inscrip- 
 tion of Eosette, by means of which it first became possible 
 to decipher the Egyptian hieroglyphics. Here the same 
 content was expressed in known and in unknown charac- 
 ters, which led to the interpretation of the unknown signs. 
 In a like manner the coexistence of the inner and outer 
 sides of reality in our own life furnishes the key for the in- 
 terpretation of the external side in general. We come to 
 regard the corporeal forms and processes as symbols of 
 inner processes. We acquire remarkable skill in interpret- 
 ing human beings. Every movement, every gesture, every 
 twitch of the facial muscles becomes an intelligible sym- 
 bol of an inner state. In speech we wholly forget that we 
 are dealing with symbols ; we have an idea that we imme- 
 diately hear or read thoughts. It requires some reflection 
 on our part to discover that we get nothing from without 
 except vibrations of the atmosphere which are caused by a 
 body through a peculiar mechanism. Similarly, everything 
 
372 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 that a book presents to our perception consists solely in 
 little accumulations of printer's ink on white paper. 
 Thoughts no more lie within the leaves of a book than thej 
 float to our ears through the air. The reader or hearer 
 creates thoughts by interpreting symbols which, taken by 
 themselves, contain no thought whatever. If the book con- 
 tained ready-made thoughts simply waiting for us to take 
 them out, there would be no need of an art of interpreta- 
 tion, nor would there be any difference of opinion as to their 
 meaning. 
 
 How far may we go in this process of interpretation ? 
 No hard-and-fast line can be drawn. In general we may 
 say : Our ability to interpret the corporeal world dimin- 
 ishes in proportion as the bodily occurrences grow unlike 
 our own bodily states. The greater the similarity and the 
 closer our relations to such bodies are, the more correctly 
 will we interpret them. We understand our most imme- 
 diate surroundings best ; the certainty of our knowledge 
 diminishes as we pass to the people of our own tribe and 
 country. It is much harder to understand the citizens of 
 a foreign nation, especially the subtler, more spiritual 
 phases of their inner life. Only by the most painstaking 
 study of their language do we gain possession of the most 
 important system of thought-symbols, and as a rule this 
 too is a more or less imperfect instrument. The art of in- 
 terpretation fails to distinguish the finer shades of differ- 
 ence between ideas and feelings. Only when we have be- 
 come assimilated with a foreign nation in consequence of 
 long association with its people and have become a part of 
 it, as it were, do we acquire that nice understanding of 
 them which we have for the soul-life of our own people. 
 Moreover, even within a particular nation there are social 
 barriers that make it more or less difficult for the different 
 classes to understand each other. It is still harder to ap- 
 preciate different races and different circles of civilization. 
 All that we can do here is to observe the general character- 
 istics of their mode of thinking and feeling. When we 
 descend to the animal kingdom we no longer have language 
 to guide us, the most delicate system of symbols, in which 
 the presentative side of the soul objectifies itself. Hence we 
 
Chap. I.] THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXTERNAL WORLD. 373 
 
 can form only very vague notions of this phase of the inner 
 life of animals. The volitional side is more intelligible to 
 ns ; from analogous organic systems and their functions we 
 infer analogous impulses and feelings. In the measure in 
 which the similarity between the organic systems grows 
 fainter and fainter, our knowledge of this factor also 
 diminishes. In the lower animal world the analogy simply 
 suffices to acquaint us with the most general characteristics 
 of an inner life ; in the vegetable kingdom we are still less 
 able to comprehend the psychical aspect ; while in the 
 inorganic world even the last faint trace vanishes : the 
 corporeal world then wholly ceases to be a decipherable 
 symbol of an inner life. Epistemological considerations, 
 however, point to the existence of an inner side in the latter 
 case also, just as our previous metaphysical speculation, 
 which insisted on the uniform connection between the 
 inorganic and the organic worlds, suggested it. To say 
 that inorganic bodies are merely bodies is equivalent to 
 saying that they have relative existence only and are noth- 
 ing in themselves at all. Whoever refuses to accept this 
 proposition will have to grant that the elements of inor- 
 ganic matter are also symbols of something in itself, the 
 nature of which we can determine only by following the 
 direction indicated by the development of this thing-in- 
 itself in the animal world. 
 
 The result of our discussion would therefore be : I 
 know reality as it is in itself, in so far as I am real myself, 
 or in so far as it is, or is like, that which I am, namely, 
 spirit. This is the truth contained in the old saying of 
 Greek philosophy : The like is known only by the like. 
 
 In this connection it is worthy of note that a peculiar 
 relation exists between our external or phenomenal knowl- 
 edge and our understanding of phenomena which rests on 
 interpretation. We may express it in the form of a paradox : 
 The better ive conceive things, the less we understand them, and 
 conversely. We conceive the inorganic processes best, that 
 is, we can define them so accurately as to make them cal- 
 culable. The vital processes are not so easily reduced to 
 conceptual mathematical formulae and calculation. Biology 
 works with empirical laws altogether, the complete reduc- 
 
374 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 tion of which to ultimate elementary laws of nature has so 
 far proved to be impossible. Man is the most incalculable 
 being in existence. Hence it is that his acts are still 
 regarded as absolutely indeterminate, or as the effects of an 
 indeterminate agent, the so-called free will, which is simply 
 equivalent to denying the possibility of conceiving or defin- 
 ing him. The reverse is true when it comes to understand- 
 ing him. Human life is the only thing that we understand 
 perfectly. We reach the maximum of understanding in 
 history ; it is less complete in zoology and botany, and van- 
 ishes altogether in physics and astronomy, where we have 
 the most perfect mathematical conception of things. 
 
 Let us sum up our thoughts in an illustration. The 
 universe is written in a cipher that has many signs. Each 
 symbol, each more or less independent corporeal system, 
 stands for a divine thought, for a concrete idea that is aa 
 element of the one, great, all-embracing idea of reality. 
 The human mind knows how to decipher but a few of these 
 ingenious signs with any degree of certainty, that is, the 
 symbols of human life, with which it is most familiar. 
 Other signs, as, for example, the different species of or- 
 ganic life on the earth, are somewhat analogous to these : 
 and even here the translation of the cipher is very imper- 
 fect — think of the instincts of animals. Finally, we are 
 encompassed by innumerable signs, the existence of which 
 we do indeed observe, while their meaning eludes every 
 attempt at interpretation. I refer to the domain of physico- 
 chemical and astronomical facts. 
 
 I shall now briefly consider the question : How does 
 the belief arise that there is a reality independent of my 
 presentation? Only my states of consciousness are im- 
 mediately known to me. How does it happen that I pass 
 beyond them to a transcendent reality and regard myself 
 and my consciousness and its content as a dependent mem- 
 ber of such an actual world ? 
 
 This belief is rendered possible by what the ego experi- 
 ences as a willing being. It becomes aware of its own 
 strivings and their goal, and simultaneously recognizes the 
 obstructions which are placed in their way. Its expecta- 
 tions of the future are disappointed by the reality, the cur- 
 
Chap. L] THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXTERNAL WORLD. 375 
 
 rent of its ideas is diverted from its spontaneous course, 
 purposes are crossed, movements miss their aim. Such 
 inner experiences are surely the primary conditions on 
 which our division of the world into the ego and the non- 
 ego depends. If they were entirely absent, the world 
 would not be split up in this way at all. A merely presen- 
 tative being, whose ideas are devoid of feeling, or a being 
 whose will is absolutely realized, one to whom every willed 
 idea is immediately presented as a perceived reality, would 
 have no conception of an objective world existing outside 
 of his own ideas. He would present his ideas and think 
 his thoughts as a mathematician thinks his formulae and 
 figures. 
 
 The further development of the opposition between the 
 ego and the non-ego in our perception of reality is, in the 
 main, conditioned by the following facts : 
 
 (1) We distinguish our own body from other bodies. 
 Our own body, which is immediately known to us by 
 sense-perception, not otherwise than other bodies, neces- 
 sarily comes to occupy a unique position, if only for the 
 reason that its movements and contacts with other bodies 
 are more immediately related to acts of will and feelings 
 than the movements and contacts of other bodies. Further- 
 more, the perception of its own parts and movements forms 
 a constant and identical background for the perception of 
 all others. 
 
 (2) We distinguish between possible and real percepts. 
 This, too, is a distinction which everybody learns to make. 
 I see an object, then I close my eyes and do not see it. 
 But I am convinced that I can at any moment see it again ; 
 my conviction is regularly verifiable by experiments. I 
 leave my house or the town in which I reside ; I see a thou- 
 sand strange sights, and yet lam convinced that everything 
 at home remains what it was ; which means, I believe that, 
 should I at any time change my position, I should be able 
 again to see the same old objects. And when I return 
 home this is found to be the case. The same remarks 
 apply to the external world. There it is, ever ready to be 
 reconstructed by perception. Thus I make a world out of 
 
376 PROBLEM OF THE NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 possible percepts, and the real percepts seem to comprise 
 but an infinitesimal segment of the possible ones. Now 
 these possible percepts constitute what in popular lan- 
 guage is called the objective reality, while the real per- 
 cepts are construed as the effects of this objective world 
 upon the consciousness of the subject. 
 
 We may with J. S. Mill * explain the fact that the pos- 
 sible percepts preponderate over the real ones, about as 
 follows : The possible percepts, or, in Kantian philosophy, 
 the phenomena, are, as distinguished from the sensations, 
 persistent and not dependent on volition. The real per- 
 cepts are constantly changing, the content of consciousness 
 is different for every given moment of time, and this change 
 depends on my volition ; each movement of the eye yields 
 a different content. The possible percepts, however, the 
 sensibilia or phenomena, are persistent and not dependent 
 on volition. While I may at any instant cause the real 
 percepts to disappear, the possible ones are, on the whole, 
 constant. I can at any given moment stop perceiving the 
 moon in the heavens, but I cannot in the same way remove 
 the possibility of seeing it. This is why different subjects 
 have the same possible percepts and the same connections 
 between them, but not the same real ones ; also, why the 
 appearance of possible percepts is calculable and that of 
 the real ones not. We may calculate the time when the 
 moon becomes visible, that is, we may predict its rise, but 
 we can never tell when and whether a particular individual 
 will really see it. Hence all sciences inquire only into the 
 possible percepts or the phenomena and their connections ; 
 they are not concerned with the contingent connections 
 between real percepts in the individual consciousness : 
 Natural laivs are formulae which express the constant rela- 
 tions existing hetiueen phenomena, as distinguished from asso- 
 ciations of ideas in the subjective consciousness. 
 
 Thus arises the idea of an objective world. Conscious- 
 ness is absolutely ignorant of this psychological process. 
 It regards the corporeal world as an absolutely existent 
 
 * An Examination of Sir W. Hamilton's Philosophy, pp. 192 ff. 
 
Chap. I.] THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXTERNAL WORLD. 377 
 
 reality. Epistemological reflection alone leads to the view 
 that the necessary correlate of such an objective world is a 
 " consciousness in general," as Kant says, a constructing 
 subject equipped with synthetic functions, and that we 
 must presuppose behind the phenomenon, a being-in- 
 itself, of which the phenomenon is the symbol. We have 
 already hinted at the nature of this being : a self-existent 
 inner life alone fulfils the conditions of the absolute being. 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 THE PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 The question concerning the origin of knowledge gives 
 rise to the opposition between Nationalism and Empiricism 
 or Sensualism. Empiricism derives all knowledge from ex- 
 perience. Rationalism, on the other hand, asserts : Scien- 
 tific knowledge cannot come from the senses at all ; uni- 
 versality and necessity are essential to it ; hence it is a 
 product of the understanding. 
 
 I shall attempt to explain these theories and my attitude 
 towards them in the form of a historical exposition.* 
 
 1. Rationalism. 
 
 The standpoint of common-sense in reference to our 
 question— if it has any views on the subject at all — most 
 nearly approaches sensualism : Our knowledge of things is 
 derived from sense-perception. 
 
 As soon as philosophy rejects and opposes the popular 
 conception of the universe, the rationalistic theory arises. 
 Philosophy claims for itself an origin different from the one 
 conceded to popular thought. It may be that the latter 
 derives its knowledge about things from the senses, but 
 scientific knowledge or philosophy in no wise springs from 
 perception ; it is the product of thought or reason. 
 
 The great systems of Greek philosophy are unanimous 
 on this point. However much they may differ concerning 
 
 *A. Riehl, Der philosophische Kritieismus und seine Bedeutung für die 
 positive Wissenschaft offers an elaborate historical exposition and discussion 
 of the problem. The reader will also find a brief sketch of the history of 
 these systems in modern times, in my Versuch einer Entwickelungsgeschichte 
 der Kantischen Erkenntnisstheorie (1875). 
 
 378 
 
Chap. IL] RATIONALISM. 379 
 
 the nature of things, they are agreed that truth does 
 not come from the senses. Heraclitus finds fault with the 
 senses: "Eyes and ears are bad witnesses to men, if 
 they have souls that understand not their language." He 
 means that only those can learn anything from the senses 
 who know how to interpret their testimony with critical 
 understanding. The philosophy of the Eleatics is still 
 more emphatic in its repudiation of the senses and opinion 
 as sources of truth. The understanding alone furnishes us 
 with truth ; the senses produce a mere deceptive illusion ; 
 they present the One and the Real as a plurality, as moved, 
 as originating and decaying. Zeno undertakes to prove by 
 reason the inconceivability and hence the impossibility and 
 unreality of the sensible world. The other two antipodes, 
 Democritus and Plato, likewise agree that the understand- 
 ing alone, not perception, leads to truth. To be sure ; the 
 senses see neither the atoms nor the ideas ; these are seen 
 by the understanding only, which penetrates through the 
 manifoldness of phenomena to their ultimate ground, to 
 the real reality. 
 
 The great systems of our modern philosophy are also 
 rationalistic in their epistemology. Think of Descartes, 
 Hobbes, Spinoza, and Leibniz. Mathematics is their start- 
 ing-point. A mathematical physics, and ultimately a ma- 
 thematical theory of the universe, is what they are driving 
 at. It is evident, we can no more reach this by perception 
 and experience than pure mathematics itself. Moreover, 
 it is one of the aims of modern philosophy — at least in the 
 opinion of some modern philosophers — like old scholasti- 
 cism, to serve as a rational theology and to prove the 
 existence of God and the immortality of the soul ; a task 
 for which experience is certainly inadequate. The ration- 
 alistic theory of knowledge thereby gains the reputation of 
 orthodoxy, while empiricism is to this day suspected of 
 heterodoxy. Even now the statement is frequently made, at 
 least in Germany, that empiricism leads to materialism and 
 atheism. 
 
 Rationalism is, therefore, the earliest form of a scientific 
 theory of knowledge. It was created by the great meta- 
 physical systems as the epistemological vindication of their 
 
380 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 claims. Empiricism is of later origin ; it arises as a crit- 
 icism on the metaphysical systems and their epistemology. 
 
 Let me first outline the fundamental features of the ra- 
 tionalistic theory. Its thesis is, let us say : All real or 
 scientific knowledge is the product of the understanding ; 
 it is the result of an immanent evolution from a priori cer- 
 tain principles that are not derived from perception or 
 verifiable by experience. Mathematics serves as the pat- 
 tern for this method. Two problems force themselves 
 upon our attention, and their solution really constitutes 
 the epistemology of rationalism : 1. How do we arrive at 
 these first principles which form the absolute starting- 
 points of knowledge ? 2. How does it happen that a system 
 produced by the activity of pure reason yields us an objec- 
 tive knowledge of reality ? For it is evidently the object 
 of all sciences to tell us what reality is, and the harmony 
 which exists between such an a priori system of thought 
 and the real world is apparently not a matter of course but, 
 when you come to think of it, a wonderful coincidence. 
 
 We may distinguish three fundamental forms of ration- 
 alism according to the different answers that can be given 
 to our two questions : metaphysical, mathematical, and formal 
 rationalism. Plato, Spinoza, and Kant may stand as the 
 representatives of these principal forms. 
 
 Metaphysical rationalism rests on the assumption that 
 reality-in-itself is thought ; hence we can know it by pure 
 thinking. It is Plato who, prepared by Eleatic specula- 
 tion, was the first to make this conception the corner-stone 
 of a great philosophical system. His thought is based on 
 the conviction that the world of sense-perception is not the 
 real world ; reality as such is an actual system of concepts 
 or thoughts, a world of ideas. How do we reach a knowl- 
 edge of it? Plato's answer is not really epistemological, 
 but in line with his metaphysics. The soul is something 
 that is in its original essence homogeneous with the real 
 reality. Its real essence is thinking or spirit. The soul 
 does not appear in its earthly guise as what it is in reality, 
 as pure thought. Here its nature is obscured or corrupted 
 by the admixture of sensuous elements, by perception and 
 desire. The life on earth, however, is but a stage in its 
 
Chap. IL] RATIONALISM. 381 
 
 being ; the soul itself existed before its incorporation, and 
 it will continue to exist after being separated from the 
 body. Its bodiless state is its real form ; here it comes 
 into immediate contact with the real reality ; it contem- 
 plates ideas, that is, thinks the actual thoughts. In the 
 body its thought is obscured by the senses. Or, as the 
 famous simile in the Republic says ; As human beings, sit- 
 ting in a cave with their necks and legs chained and their 
 backs to the light, see nothing but the shadows which the 
 objects moving before the entrance throw upon the wall of 
 the den, so the soul dwells in the cave of the body and sees 
 all kinds of shadows coming to it from passing objects 
 through the openings of the body, through the eyes and 
 the ears. True, it has retained a faint trace of the real 
 thought, a reminiscence, as it were, of its former incorporeal 
 state when its vision was clear. And its mission in this 
 world is to do all it can to free thought from the senses, 
 which have buried it beneath falsehood and illusion. Ma- 
 thematics and dialectics, the two great forms of conceptual 
 knowledge, are the means to this end. 
 
 I shall not discuss Aristotle's criticism of this rational- 
 ism, nor his attempt to found a theory of knowledge that 
 comes nearer to empiricism. Although Aristotle is so 
 severe and often unjust in his judgment of Plato, he has 
 not been able to offer anything in place of the latter's views. 
 His philosophy contains the rudiments of an empirical 
 theory, and these come from his observation, and also the 
 beginnings of a rationalistic theory which are rooted in his 
 syllogistic. But he makes no attempt to reconcile the two 
 thoughts. Let me, however, call to mind that the Platonic 
 conception has been revived in the speculative philosophy 
 of our century. We find the same fundamental conception 
 in Hegel : Reality as such is thought, an idea unfolding 
 itself with inner necessity. Perfect knowledge consists in 
 thinking the actual thoughts over again. In the dialectical 
 evolution of philosophical thinking the self-existent and 
 active absolute idea is repeated, or rather becomes conscious 
 of itself. 
 
 The mathematical rationalism of the seventeenth century 
 is another form of rationalism. It is distinguished from 
 
382 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 Platonic rationalism in that it remains immanent. It 
 asserts : All sciences, particularly and above all the natu- 
 ral sciences, can and must adopt the method of mathe- 
 matics ; they must assume the form of a demonstrative 
 system deduced from principles. Descartes and Hobbes 
 agree in this fundamental presupposition ; Spinoza at- 
 tempted to apply it formally in his Ethics ; Leibniz, who 
 had already taken his stand in reference to the empirical 
 critique that had in the meanwhile sprung into promi- 
 nence, sought to retain it with certain restrictions. 
 
 The following answer is given to the two questions pro- 
 posed by rationalism (cf. p. 380). Descartes sometimes re- 
 plies to the question concerning the value of the first prin- 
 ciples of demonstrative knowledge, by saying : They are 
 innate ideas. The expression comes from Platonic philos- 
 ophy. It is, however, only the old term without the old 
 meaning. Descartes does not advocate the doctrine of 
 pre-existence and recollection. This is what he means : 
 There are cognitive elements which are original products 
 of the intellect and do not need to be verified by experi- 
 ence. Mathematics is a proof of that. Definitions and 
 axioms constitute its principles ; their truth does not depend 
 on perception and observation. The definitions of math- 
 ematics are concepts which the understanding assumes 
 unconditionally. The intellect is not determined by per- 
 ception, but solely by its own functions, when it establishes 
 the definition of the circle and the tangent, of the power 
 and the logarithm. Hence axioms are propositions the 
 validity of which is not proved by experience ; they are 
 recognized by the understanding as absolutely self-evident, 
 as soon as they are understood. 
 
 Now true science universally assumes this form. This 
 is particularly the case in physics, which is ultimately 
 nothing but a branch of mathematics. Descartes's philoso- 
 phy is, above everything else, a system of thought that 
 aims to prove the possibility of a purely mathematical 
 physics. Hence the essence of corporeal nature is restricted 
 to pure extension ; it has geometrical properties only, no 
 inner ones ; hence it is subject to purely mathematical 
 treatment. Corpus est res extensa : that is a mathematical 
 
Chap. II.] RATIONALISM. 383 
 
 definition, like the definitions of the angle or circle. The 
 same is true of the definition of the soul : Mens est res (mere) 
 cogitans. Axioms are added : e.g., the proposition of the 
 conservation of substance : The quantity of matter is neither 
 augmented nor diminished ; or the proposition of the con- 
 servation of energy : The quantity of motion is unchange- 
 able ; motion neither originates nor is lost, but is merely 
 transferred from body to body. On the basis of such 
 definitions and axioms, natural science is to be developed 
 as a demonstrative system of mechanics. The value of 
 perception is here fundamentally the same as in geometry : 
 it may give the first impulse to the formation of notions 
 and propositions. But demonstration alone constitutes a 
 real and perfect science. 
 
 We can now also answer the second question : How 
 shall we explain the harmony between such a system of 
 propositions developed in a purely immanent way and 
 reality ? Descartes answers : These definitions resemble 
 mathematical concepts which are valid in themselves and 
 need no verification by experience. He embodies his 
 thought in a general proposition : What I perceive clearly 
 and distinctly is true. Every notion that is in itself clear 
 and distinct is valid, and its conceivability or possibility is 
 the guarantee of its validity. Quidquid dare ac distincte 
 percipio, verum est; this proposition clearly betrays its 
 mathematical origin.* 
 
 * In the third of the Meditationes de prima philosophia the proposition 
 has the appearance of being deduced from the cogito ergo sum. This is, of 
 coarse, mere semblance. Indeed, the entire course of reasoning from abso- 
 lute doubt to the absolute certainty of the cogito ergo sum, as well as the 
 deduction therefrom : the existence and veracity of God, which in turn is to 
 form the basis or the certainty of all scientific knowledge, is an after- 
 thought and an altogether gratuitous substruction for previously-estab- 
 lished views. These previously-established views are : Mathematics is an 
 absolute science ; compared with it, all previous sciences, especially meta- 
 physics and scholastic physics, are uncertain, or rather no sciences at all. 
 They may, however, become such if they can be made mathematical. Since 
 Galileo's day this can be done for physics. The secret powers and entities 
 have been abandoned and are replaced by mathematical explanation and 
 calculation. Descartes finds that metaphysics, too, may, in a certain meas- 
 ure, become mathematical. Here, too, we may form certain concepts hav- 
 ing absolute validity, e.g., the notion of the most real being, of an ens 
 realissimum sive perfectissimum. Modern physics itself tends to the notion 
 
384 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 This view is constantly carried out in the philosophical 
 system of Spinoza. Ethica more geometrico demonstrata is 
 the title of his principal work. He rigorously applies the 
 mathematical method. All sciences, metaphysics, physics 
 (outlined in a few propositions of the second book), the 
 theory of knowledge, psychology, ethics with the funda- 
 mental notions of politics, are treated after the pattern of 
 geometry. Each book begins with definitions and axioms ; 
 propositions and proofs, corollaries and scholia, follow. 
 The whole of philosophy constitutes a system of necessary 
 formula, deduced from necessary concepts and axioms. 
 The answer to the questions concerning the harmony be- 
 tween this system and reality is given by Spinoza's meta- 
 physics. The parallelism between the two attributes, 
 thought and extension, is used as a basis for his episte- 
 mology : one and the same substance or all-real being 
 reveals itself in the corporeal world and in the world of 
 thought in a system of modifications. And for this reason 
 the order and connection of the ideal world corresponds to 
 the order and connection in the corporeal world. What 
 appears in the latter as cause and effect is in the former 
 ground and consequent : sequi and causari are fundamen- 
 tally the same.* 
 
 2. Empiricism. 
 
 The second great school of modern philosophy, English 
 Empiricism, subjects this mathematical rationalism to criti- 
 cism. Locke and Hume are its chief representatives. 
 
 The fundamental conception of empiricism is : There 
 are two kinds of sciences, differing in nature and method — purely 
 conceptual sciences, like mathematics, and objective sciences, like 
 physics and psychology, nationalism errs in recognizing 
 only one form of science, the mathematical, and in attempt- 
 ing to fashion all sciences after its pattern. That is an 
 
 of an absolute unity of reality. This conception is made the corner-stoue 
 of the systematic exposition. The object is clearly apparent. 
 
 * Ethica, ii. 7 : Ordo et connexio idearum idem est ac ordo et connexio 
 rerum. We must add, however, that the psycho-physical parallelism be- 
 tween states of consciousness and nervous processes is here improperly 
 transformed into an epistemological parallelism between the logical combi- 
 nations of concepts and natural laws of motion. 
 
Chap. II.] EMPIRICISM. 385 
 
 impossible undertaking ; the sciences dealing with matters 
 of fact, natural and mental sciences, wholly differ from 
 mathematics in content and method.* 
 
 It is characteristic of mathematics that it makes no 
 assertions concerning the existence and behavior of reality, 
 but dea]s solely with deductions from notions. Geometry 
 does not say : This figure is a circle ; this body is a sphere, 
 and its motion has the form of an ellipse but : Such and 
 such consequences follow from the definition of the circle 
 and the sine. Whoever accepts the definition must also 
 accept its deductions ; he is bound by logic to do so. It is 
 wholly immaterial whether or not anything exists corre- 
 sponding to the notion. 
 
 The case is quite different in the other group of 
 sciences, which deal with objects. Physics and psychol- 
 ogy aim to inform us how things act which exist indepen- 
 dently of our notions. How can we know anything about 
 them ? Empiricism answers : Only by experience. It is 
 absolutely impossible to discover from the notion of water 
 and of heat what will happen when the thermometer falls 
 to zero or rises to one hundred degrees ; or to infer from 
 the concept of the body what will occur if it is deprived of 
 its support. Only by perception do we learn that it will 
 fall under such circumstances ; the concept does not help 
 us in the least. Not even the most perfect intellect, says 
 Hume, the intellect of Adam before the fall, could have 
 told him that if he should happen to fall into the water, he 
 would sink and be suffocated. Nay, it could not even re- 
 veal to him what would happen were a body in motion to 
 collide with one at rest. Nor can psychology deduce from 
 an absolute notion of the soul that it feels and desires, 
 reasons and infers, or foresee that air-waves will arouse a 
 sensation of sound, or pressure upon the eye, sensations of 
 light, or a blow in the face, a feeling of anger. All these 
 facts are known by experience only. 
 
 * The distinction between demonstrative and experimental knowledge 
 founded on perception is fundamental to tlie entire fourth book of Locke's 
 Essay, which is in reality the principal part of the work. The distinction 
 is, however, not accurately denned. The clear and logical exposition of 
 this difference forms the starting-point of Hume's Enquiry (Section IV and 
 Section XII, conclusion). 
 
386 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 Locke began these reflections. He attempts to prove that 
 all our notions are derived from experience. In the first 
 book of the Essay Concerning the Human Understanding he 
 undertakes to show, with hypercritical thoroughness, that 
 men do not come into the world with innate ideas ; a fact 
 of which perhaps no philosopher, least of all Descartes, 
 needed to be apprised. The real opposition between them 
 is a different one. Descartes claims that it is as possible 
 to form notions in physics and psychology as in mathema- 
 tics, the validity or truth of which is proved by their 
 inner possibility. Locke denies it. The definition of the 
 body : corpus est res mere extensa, or the definition : 
 mens est res mere cogitans, may be logically possible ; it 
 may be clearly and distinctly conceivable, but that by no 
 means establishes its validity : we may have as clear and 
 distinct a conception of a golden mountain. The truth of the 
 notions of all sciences that deal with facts is based solely 
 on the perception of such facts and connections. Hence it 
 follows that the definitions of sciences of fact cannot be as 
 fixed and final as mathematical concejDts ; they may be en- 
 larged and modified by further observation. Our notion of 
 gold is the result of all previous observations concerning 
 this body : it has such and such a color, a particular spe- 
 cific gravity, and reacts in a certain way upon mechanical, 
 chemical, and thermal influences. Further observations 
 may possibly discover new qualities. It is also possible 
 that we may become acquainted with a body having all the 
 qualities of gold but a somewhat higher or lower melting- 
 point. We should in that event extend our notion suffi- 
 ciently to admit this difference. The mathematical con- 
 cept, however, is final : A figure in which the radii are 
 not quite equal is not a circle ; a line that touches a circle 
 at more than one point is not a tangent. The same remarks 
 apply to the notions on which Descartes aims to base phy- 
 sics and psychology ; they are not final or mathematical, but 
 provisional and empirical. Descartes explains : A body is 
 a thing whose essence consists in extension, the soul a 
 thing whose essence consists in states of consciousness 
 (cogitatio), for I can clearly and distinctly conceive such a 
 thing. Of course I can ; but should experience show that 
 
 
€hap. IL] EMPIRICISM. 387 
 
 this extended tiling also thinks, at least occasionally, or 
 that this thinking being also sets bodies in motion, could 
 I not also conceive that ? And in that case would it be 
 advisable to retain the above definitions ? Evidently not. 
 For then they would be inadequate to explain actual facts. 
 Hence all concepts concerning matters of fact are provi- 
 sional notions, they are constantly changing in order to fit 
 the facts yielded by observation. Such notions make a 
 demonstrative procedure like mathematics impossible. 
 
 Locke often insists that mathematics is the most perfect 
 form of knowledge. He deplores the fact that this kind of 
 knowledge (which outside of mathematics is possible only 
 in morals) is restricted to so narrow a field. Nevertheless 
 we must confess that the sciences of fact like physics, 
 chemistry, and psychology cannot be treated according to 
 the mathematical method ; observation and experiment are 
 necessary here. 
 
 Hume continued and completed these reflections. His 
 examination of the notion of cause and effect forms the 
 cardinal point in his brief and simple but thoughtful In- 
 quiry concerning Human Understanding. The law of causality 
 had always been the chief support of rationalism. It was 
 supposed that the effect could be deduced from the cause ; 
 the relation existing between cause and effect is the 
 same as that existing between ground and consequent : 
 sequi == causari. Hume shows that this is an error. 
 Inference according to the law of causality is entirely dif- 
 ferent from concluding according to the logical law of con- 
 tradiction. The relation between cause and effect is no 
 logical relation at all, discoverable by pure thought. In 
 physics and psychology such phenomena are said to be 
 causally related as invariably succeed each other in time. 
 The perception of succession in time is all that is really 
 observed here ; at any rate, an inner connection of phe- 
 nomena, a necessity that binds them together, is not a 
 matter of observation. I perceive that a certain state 
 follows upon a given state ; I expect the same event to 
 succeed it the next time it occurs. Here we have the 
 beginning of the causal conception. We find it in animals ; 
 they too learn from experience, and in the manner indicated : 
 
388 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 a certain succession is perceived in events ; at the recur- 
 rence of the first, the second is expected or anticipated. 
 The function is more highly developed in man ; not every 
 perceived succession leads us to expect its return ; we 
 gradually learn to separate the constant causal relations 
 existing between phenomena from the accidental and dis- 
 soluble connections. But the principle is the same in 
 either case. It is absolutely impossible to discover the 
 effect from the notion of the cause by logical inference. 
 Take the simplest example. The motion of a body in a 
 given period of time is the cause of the same movement dur- 
 ing the succeeding period. This is in no wise discoverable 
 by a logical inference. From the proposition that a certain 
 body moves with a certain velocity per second, and in a 
 certain direction, no logical conclusion follows, except 
 the falseness of its opposite. Nothing whatever can be 
 deduced as to what is going to happen during the next sec- 
 ond. On the ground of previous observations, I expect this 
 body to pass through an equal space with the same velocity 
 and in the same direction, during the ensuing period of 
 time. But this expectation is not a necessity of thought, like 
 a mathematical proposition. It is also conceivable that the 
 movement should cease of its own accord, either suddenly 
 or gradually, or that it should turn off in any direction 
 whatever. Past experience has invariably taught us that 
 things behave in the manner stated in the law of inertia, 
 but it is not a logical necessity that the future should re- 
 semble the past. Moreover, says Hume, — and that is his 
 most general proposition, — there is absolutely no fact the 
 non-existence of which would not be conceivable or logi- 
 cally possible. The non-existence of any body, the invali- 
 dity of any natural law, is conceivable, for the non-exist- 
 ence of the entire world is conceivable. 
 
 Hence it follows : In the sciences concerning matters of 
 fact like physics and psycholog}^ there are no truths that 
 are strictly universal and necessary. These sciences contain 
 propositions that are only probably universal. Each one is 
 true with the tacit proviso : subject to correction by sub- 
 sequent experience. The propositions of mathematics are 
 absolutely universal and necessary. No observation can. 
 
Chap. IL] FOBMALISTIG RATIONALISM OF KANT. 389 
 
 shake or change the proposition that the sum of the angles 
 of a plane triangle is equal to two right angles ; it is im- 
 plied in the notions themselves as their logically necessary 
 consequence. On the other hand, there is no proposition 
 in physics or psychology that can be said to possess such 
 necessity. Nor is the causal law itself an exception ; the 
 proposition that there is absolute regularity in the succes- 
 sion of natural phenomena has presumptive validity only. 
 It is also conceivable or logically possible that phenomena 
 should occur that stand in no relation whatever to all ante- 
 cedent and all consequent phenomena. We should call 
 such phenomena miracles. Hence miracles are undoubt- 
 edly possible, just as possible to thought as facts that may 
 be explained by our laws of nature, i.e., inserted into the 
 natural connection of things according to rules. The ques- 
 tion is not a question of possibility, but one of fact. Have 
 facts been observed that would have to be regarded as 
 miracles ? Hume raises serious objections to the asser- 
 tion. According to him the theory that the alleged mira- 
 cles are explainable, if not physically, psychologically at 
 least, has such great probability that it may be regarded as 
 practically certain. It is a matter of such common experi- 
 ence that human testimony rests on voluntary or involun- 
 tary deception, that it seems much more plausible for us 
 to explain an alleged miracle in this way than to abandon 
 the fundamental principle of all natural science, the uni- 
 versal reign of law in nature. This presupposition is, of 
 course, not logically necessary, but has been so often con- 
 firmed by facts and has, upon close observation, been so 
 often verified even in the case of alleged miracles, that we 
 have the right, on a priori grounds, to doubt new miracles. 
 That is the epistemology of empiricism. Kant opposes 
 it and undertakes to restore rationalism, though of course 
 with qualifications and restrictions. 
 
 3. The Pormalistic Rationalism of Kant. 
 
 As has been said above, the question at stake in the 
 controversy between rationalism and empiricism is : Do we 
 possess an a priori or rational knowledge of objects ? Ka- 
 
390 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 tionalism answers in the affirmative : By pure thought we 
 reach an absolute knowledge of things that cannot be ac- 
 quired through the senses. Empiricism denies the state- 
 ment : We gain a knowledge of objects solely by percep- 
 tion, whence it follows that we have no absolute knowledge. 
 
 Kant's standpoint is conditioned by the following pro- 
 cedure : he takes what he regards as the correct half of 
 each of the two opposing theories and combines these 
 halves into a new theory. In opposition to Hume's em- 
 piricism he renews the old dogma of rationalism : There is 
 a priori knoivledge of objects. In opposition to the rational- 
 ism of the Leibniz- Wolffian system he adds : but knowledge 
 of things only as they appear, not as they are in themselves. 
 The union of phenomenalism or idealism with rationalism is 
 the real characteristic feature of the Kantian epistemology. 
 Hitherto rationalism had always been realistic, while em- 
 piricism had become idealistic in Berkeley and Hume. 
 
 The first half of the Critique of Pure Reason, consisting 
 of the JEsthetic and Analytic, attempts to construct a new 
 epistemological system upon this basis. The second half, 
 the Dialectic, gives an elaborate exposition of the relation 
 of the new philosophy to the old metaphysics ; it shows 
 the impossibility of a purely rational psychology, cosmol- 
 ogy, and theology, the impossibility, if you please, of a 
 realistic rationalism, after the first half had shown the 
 possibility of a phenomenalistic rationalism. Let us begin 
 with a consideration of the first half, with the conditional 
 reconstruction of rationalism. 
 
 According to Hume, there are no universal and neces- 
 sary judgments concerning matters of fact. All our natural 
 laws, the laws of mechanics as well as those of chemistry 
 and physiology, nay, the causal law itself, have presump- 
 tive universal validity only. That, says Kant, is complete 
 Skepticism. If Hume is right, real knowledge is no longer 
 possible ; for universality and necessity distinguish knowl- 
 edge from mere association of ideas, which even animals 
 have. Nay, Hume's skepticism is not confined to physics 
 and metaphysics, it necessarily includes mathematics also. 
 His arguments are thereby reduced ad absurdum. The 
 actual existence of this science shows the insufficiency of 
 
Chap. IL] FORMALISTIC RATIONALISM OF KANT. 391 
 
 the principles of empiricism. The question, therefore, 
 simply is to show how such sciences are possible. How is 
 pure mathematics, how is pure natural science, how is 
 metaphj^sics possible ? Or stating the question in a gen- 
 eral formula : How are synthetic judgments a priori possible ? 
 That is, epistemologically, not psychologically, possible ? 
 In other words : How can propositions that are not derived 
 from experience (judgments a priori) and are not logical de- 
 ductions (not analytical propositions) possess the validity 
 and the value of objective knoivledge (synthetic judgments)? 
 That is Kant's problem. His answer is : Such proposi- 
 tions can have objective validity, only in case the under- 
 standing itself creates the objects of which it affirms these 
 propositions ; it has an a priori knowledge of objects in so 
 far as it produces them itself. This happens in mathemat- 
 ics. Its objects are pure intuitions constructed according 
 to definition. The geometrician is able to describe the 
 properties and relations of lines, angles, triangles, and cir- 
 cles in synthetic judgments a priori, because he creates the 
 objects himself. In a certain sense the same is true of 
 physics. The objects with which the physicist deals are 
 natural phenomena ; in a measure, however, phenomena 
 are the products of the subject to which they appear, and 
 as such are conditioned, in their general form, by the na- 
 ture and functions of the subject. Hence, in so far as we 
 mean by nature the totality of phenomena, — and physics 
 deals with nature in this sense only, — we can have an a 
 priori knowledge of nature and of all natural objects — that 
 is, as far as the general form of their phenomenality is con- 
 cerned. On the other hand, there can be no a priori 
 knowledge of nature, if we mean by nature an absolute 
 reality that exists without any relation to the knowing sub- 
 ject. Of things as they are in themselves, independent of 
 the subject, the intellect can, of course, know nothing a 
 priori. Nor can it learn anything concerning them by the 
 a posteriori method, for they would have to enter our con- 
 sciousness or become phenomena before we could know 
 anything of them. Hence if we mean by metaphysics what 
 is usually meant, the knowledge of things-in-themselves, 
 then it is not possible. It is possible only when it means 
 
392 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 nothing but " pure natural science," i.e., a general phenom- 
 enology of nature. 
 
 This is Kant's rationalistic train of thought. It is pre- 
 sented in the briefest form in his Prolegomena to every Fu- 
 ture Metaphysics, the treatise written in explanation and de- 
 fence of the Critique of Pure Reason. In a certain sense 
 this treatise most clearly reveals the object of Kant's 
 thought : it accentuates his opposition to Hume. The recep- 
 tion with which the Critique of Pure Reason had met among 
 his German contemporaries led Kant to write the book. 
 The idealistic and skeptical features had attracted their at- 
 tention ; they overlooked the rationalistic element. They 
 simply noticed the opposition to their own mode of think- 
 ing, to the reigning system of the school ; its opposition to 
 Hume's empiricism escaped their observation. The fact is, 
 they were unacquainted with the latter. They did not per- 
 mit Hume's skeptical reflections to shake their faith in the 
 rational theology, cosmology, and psychology of the Wolf- 
 fian system. 
 
 On the other hand, it must be confessed that Kant's ori- 
 ginal thought is somewhat distorted in the Prolegomena. 
 By incidentally explaining mathematics and physics as 
 actual and valid sciences that need no epistemological vin- 
 dication whatever, he, of course, contradicts his original 
 opinion. The starting-point of criticism is : There are 
 such sciences, but their objective validity is endangered by 
 Hume's skepticism. The problem is to save them, i.e., to 
 prove their objective validity. Their existence simply shows 
 that certain propositions which claim to be universal and 
 necessary, at the same time lay claim to objective validity. 
 Take a proposition like the following : Matter is neither 
 created nor destroyed. The proposition claims to he a uni- 
 versal and necessary judgment. If it is, it must be a priori; 
 for experience gives us no universal and necessary knowl- 
 edge. On that point Kant wholly agrees with Hume. On 
 the other hand, it is a judgment that lays claim to objective 
 validity, i.e., affirms : Such a thing cannot happen in real- 
 ity. It is not an analytical judgment — as, for instance, the 
 proposition : Every body is extended ; the part is smaller 
 than the whole — but a synthetical judgment, a propo- 
 
Chap. IL] FORMALISTS RATIONALISM OF KANT. 393 
 
 sition predicating existence. The same may be said of 
 the proposition : Nothing occurs without a cause. It 
 claims to be both a universal and necessary judgment and a 
 judgment having objective validity. And this is also true of 
 the axioms of geometry ; physicists unhesitatingly attribute 
 objective validity to them. They likewise presuppose that 
 the conclusions deduced from definitions and axioms, and 
 the calculations depending thereon, are not only true in 
 form, but also in reality ; that the nature of the things is 
 mathematically knowable. How can this assumption be 
 established ? How can it be proved that the propositions 
 affirming the conservation of matter and the universal reign 
 of law in nature are not merely, as Hume maintains, as- 
 sumptions having presumably universal validity, but really 
 necessary and universal laws of nature ? 
 
 Kant answers the question by revising the notion of ex- 
 perience in the manner indicated above. The popular view, 
 which is conceptually formulated in sensualistic theories, 
 understands by experience the passive reception of impres- 
 sions from the real w r orld. It regards the soul, to use 
 Locke's expression, as a piece of white paper, on which ob- 
 jects impress their characters. Of course, the paper can- 
 not know a priori what signs it is going to receive. If the 
 soul is such a thing, and if experience consists in such a 
 process, then a 'priori knowledge, and with it universal and 
 necessary knowledge, are impossible. But the assumption is 
 false. Knowledge, even empirical knowledge, is not pas- 
 sively received from the external world : it is a product of 
 the spontaneous activity of the soul. Not, indeed, the 
 product of an absolutely spontaneous activity ; the activity 
 is aroused by the environment. But "experience " can be 
 brought about only when the intelligence forms or fashions 
 the " affections." Experience is not a heap accidentally 
 jumbled together, a "conglomeration" of sensations, but a 
 system of phenomena combined according to principles. 
 Nature, the object of our experience, is conceived in this 
 way : as a unified system of facts governed by laws. 
 
 The fact that nature is more than a confused heap of sen- 
 sations, — red, sweet, solid, liquid, — differing in quality and 
 quantity, is not the result of sensation or due to impres- 
 
394 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 sions ; it is the work of intelligence. The intelligence with 
 its two aspects, sensibility and understanding, apprehends 
 and forms, arranges and organizes the given manifold of im- 
 pressions by means of its peculiar activities, and these we 
 may designate as functions of synthesis, the comprehension of 
 disconnected and manifold elements into a unity. Of 
 course, the functions of the intelligence must everywhere be 
 present in their product, experience, as the formal conditions 
 of the same, and for that reason we may have an a priori 
 knowledge of the form of nature. As we have an a priori 
 knowledge of the shape of objects that are constructed ac- 
 cording to the same pattern, so we can have a priori knowl- 
 edge of the form of all products of human intelligence, i.e., 
 we know the form of nature and of all the objects therein. 
 
 From the uniformity of the manifold we may tell what 
 in nature springs from the formative activity of the intelli- 
 gence. Different parts of space are at different times filled 
 with different forces. The qualities may change, but space 
 itself with its determinations is everywhere and always the 
 same, so that each part may be substituted for any other 
 part. Similarly, time is everywhere and always the same, 
 however different its content may be. So, too, the general 
 form of reality is everywhere the same; there are many 
 different changes and effects, but the causal relation is uni- 
 versally the same ; it holds for every time and every place. 
 There is likewise another fundamental schema of reality, 
 the category of substance and accident, persistence and 
 change. 
 
 Kant investigates the formal side of experience and 
 everywhere attends to the constructive factors common to 
 all experiences. He discovers two kinds of formal ele- 
 ments : he calls them forms of intuition and. forms of thought. 
 The two forms of intuition are space and time. Basing him- 
 self on formal logic and its table of judgments, he reduces 
 the forms of thought (which he calls categories) to the round 
 number of twelve. Space and time are, therefore, not 
 actual realities, nor really existent arrangements of things- 
 in-themselves, but subjective functions which synthesize 
 the manifold sensational content. All sensations are ar- 
 ranged and unified in time-succession, so that each is 
 
Chap. IL] FORMALISTIG RATIONALISM OF KANT. 395 
 
 simultaneous with every other or separated from it by 
 some definite interval of time. All sensations of the ex- 
 ternal sense are inserted into the unified whole which we call 
 the spatial world. Thus the unified perceived world of 
 phenomena is produced by the functions of localization and 
 temporalization, if we may invent these terms. And in the 
 same way the functions of thought are forms of arranging 
 our perceptions : forms of their arrangement in time. The 
 general fundamental principle is : All phenomena are 
 a priori conditioned by the rules which determine their 
 relations in time. All phenomena, so the law of substan- 
 tiality states in particular, contain a persistent element 
 which constitutes the object itself and an element of change 
 which is a mere determination of the object. The law of 
 causality declares : Everything that occurs (or begins to 
 be) presupposes something upon which it follows according 
 to a rule. Kant finds it more difficult to demonstrate the 
 remaining ten categories as constitutive elements of reality ; 
 most of them are mere makeshifts. 
 
 Let us now insert the theory of this new rationalism 
 into our classification and say : Kant answers the question 
 concerning the nature of the principles of rational knowl- 
 edge as follows. They are modes of activity, synthetic 
 functions, which the intelligence universally exercises and 
 always exercises in the same way. The mathematical and 
 physical axioms mentioned before are formulae expressive 
 of these functions and in so far principles of a priori knowl- 
 edge. The functions are not innate ; they are, like all 
 functions, developed in the course of life, but they are not, 
 on that account, carried into us from without by means of 
 impressions ; the impressions are simply the occasion of 
 their development. This is the answer which had already 
 suggested itself to Leibniz in his New Essays concerning the 
 Human Understanding, which he opposed to Locke's Essay. 
 Nihil est in intellectu, quod non anteafuerit in sensu, says em- 
 piricism, and rightly so ; but we must add : nisi intellectus 
 ipse. Everything is derived from experience, except the 
 capacity for experience 
 
 This enables us to answer the second question : How 
 can propositions that are not derived from experience still 
 
396 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 have objective validity ? After many tiresome repetitions 
 the Transcendental Deduction, which, it must be confessed, 
 is by no means a model of accuracy and clearness, deduces 
 them from the presuppositions already established : Propo- 
 sitions that express the synthetical functions of our sensi- 
 bility and understanding, for that very reason possess the 
 validity of laws of nature, in so far as we mean by nature 
 what everybody actually means by the term : the totality of 
 phenomena. Space and time being forms of our intuition 
 are at the same time necessary forms of nature ; nothing 
 can be an object of our perception that does not exist in 
 space and time. In the words of the first principle of ex- 
 perience, " the axiom of intuition," all phenomena are 
 extensive quantities ; and hence we might continue : Every- 
 thing that can be predicated of extensity in general, its 
 continuity and homogeneity, its illimitability and infinite 
 divisibility, may also be affirmed of the real world. Or, 
 whatever pure mathematics affirms of space and time rela- 
 tions is unconditionally true of all things that have spa- 
 tiality and quantity. Likewise, whatever transcendental 
 logic discovers concerning the nature of the understanding 
 is true also of things in so far as they exist for the under- 
 standing. If the law of causality is a law of the pure 
 understanding, it is for that very reason also a law of 
 nature. " The understanding does not draw its laws from 
 nature, but prescribes them to nature." 
 
 In the preface to the second edition of the Critique, 
 Kant draws a striking comparison. He likens the revolu- 
 tion created by him in epistemology to the change pro- 
 duced in the astronomical conception of the universe by 
 Copernicus. Prior to the days of Copernicus, the celestial 
 phenomena were explained by the movements of the 
 heavenly bodies around the earth. Copernicus offers a 
 more simple explanation, assuming the motion to be in the 
 observer. In a like manner, empiricism explained knowl- 
 edge as the effect of objects on the intelligence. Kant, how- 
 ever, explains knowledge by assuming, " contrary to our 
 senses," that objects are governed by our notions : Thought 
 alone creates objects as far as the form is concerned. 
 Hence it can, in so far, know them a priori and formulate 
 
Chap. IL] FORMALISTIC RATIONALISM OF KANT. 397 
 
 its knowledge in universal and necessary propositions. 
 The axioms of geometry, the law of causality, are neces- 
 sarily and universally valid for all objects of experience. 
 
 The second thesis of this rationalism follows as a neces- 
 sary consequence of the above. It asserts that there can 
 be no rational knowledge in cases where objects are not 
 determined by the understanding. The " things-in-them- 
 selves " are, of course, not subject to the synthetic functions 
 of our intelligence, and hence metaphysics in the old sense, 
 rational knowledge of absolute reality, is impossible. The 
 elaboration of this idea, upon which the Analytic every- 
 where touches, forms the subject-matter of the second half 
 of the Critique, the Dialectic. This part of the work, with 
 its many almost unendurable imperfections of style and 
 laborious expositions, shows that the attempts to employ 
 the understanding and its forms of thought for the purpose 
 of determining the nature of the things themselves in a 
 rational psychology, cosmology, and theology were bound 
 to fail. We cannot enter here upon a more detailed dis- 
 cussion of these points, nor consider the attempts made to 
 regain for the " ideas," which are deprived of their con- 
 stitutive validity, " regulative " value for the speculative 
 reason and practical validity for the will. 
 
 But I should like to conclude my exposition by refer- 
 ring to a conception which is a characteristic of the Kantian 
 system and with which Kant himself is acquainted, though 
 he did not, to my knowledge, expressly formulate it any- 
 where. Human intelligence stands between animal and 
 divine intelligence. The knowledge of animals consists of 
 a " conglomeration of sensations," among which associative 
 relations occasionally obtain. There is, however, no dis- 
 tinction made between subject and object, between the I 
 and nature. The knowledge in question is not, therefore, 
 objective, and hence not real knowledge at all, but a purely 
 subjective train of ideas. Nor is divine knowledge objec- 
 tive according to our conceptions. The divine intellect 
 creates reality by its thought ; this is not opposed to it as 
 something foreign or actual ; the intellectus archetypus is 
 "intuitive understanding"; its thoughts are actual con- 
 crete ideas, not abstract notions ; a human soul is a divine 
 
398 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 " thought." The thinking of the creative artist is an illus- 
 tration of this idea ; as in him, so all thoughts bear an 
 inner, sesthetical and teleological relation to each other in 
 God. Human knowledge, however, is objective knowledge ; 
 it is the conceptual interpretation of something that exists. 
 By means of the synthetical functions of intuition and 
 thought peculiar to it, the human intelligence constructs 
 unified systems of objects governed by laws, which we call 
 nature, out of the given manifold of sensations. The ob- 
 jects are in form merely products of the understanding, 
 but the understanding concedes independent existence to 
 them and regards itself as an object among objects gov- 
 erned by natural laws. 
 
 4. Critical Remarks on Kant's Theory of Knowledge. 
 
 In criticising the Kantian theory, which was expounded 
 in the preceding section and which lacks neither keenness 
 nor depth, I shall state, as clearly and accurately as I 
 know how, what, in my opinion, is untenable therein and 
 then point out what it contains of permanent value. 
 
 I shall first let Hume, the chief object of attack in the 
 Critique, defend his cause against Kant. Has Kant refuted 
 the proposition, which is the climax of Hume's empiricism, 
 that a knowledge of facts cannot be reached by pure reason, 
 and hence that there are no absolutely universal and nec- 
 essary judgments concerning facts, but only such as are 
 probably universal ? Has Kant, in opposition to Hume, 
 really proved the possibility of universal and necessary 
 propositions, e.g., in natural science ? 
 
 It was for a long time assumed in Germany that such 
 is the case. I am not of the same opinion ; I do not be- 
 lieve that Hume could be forced to acknowledge it. I 
 shall let him defend his thesis against Kant. 
 
 In the first place, Hume would have refused to accept 
 the line of argument followed in the Prolegomena, which 
 was also introduced into the subsequent editions of the 
 Critique itself, and which assumes that there are in pure 
 mathematics and in natural science "real and at the same 
 time pure truths a priori needing no proof." He would 
 
Chap. II.] CRITICAL REMARKS ON KANT 8 THEORY. 399 
 
 with justice have regarded it as a petitio principii. The 
 existence of these sciences, he might have said, cannot, of 
 course, be doubted ; but the question is — and that is the 
 very question asked by him — in what sense does objective 
 validity appertain to their propositions ? Indeed, he might 
 have continued, in my opinion mathematics as such does 
 not claim to possess objective validity at all. Geometry 
 makes no assertions concerning reality. Whenever its propo- 
 sitions are employed to determine reality, e.g., in astronom- 
 ical calculations, they lose their apodictic character and 
 become hypothetical. Provided physical space corre- 
 sponds to geometric space and the measurements of dis- 
 tances and angles are correct, the moon is at such and such 
 a distance from us, has such a size, such and such motion, 
 etc. The propositions of trigonometry possess apodictic 
 certainty, but no proposition in astronomy can claim it. 
 The universality and necessity of pure mathematics depend 
 on the fact that this science concerns itself wholly with 
 notions. Physics, on the other hand, aims to supply us 
 with knowledge of objective reality, thereby waiving all 
 claims to universality and necessity — i.e., in the strict sense 
 of the term, for Hume too would, like every one else, con- 
 cede probable validity to the laws of mechanics. Hence 
 he would grant universality in the common acceptation of 
 the term, only not the universality and necessity appertain- 
 ing to mathematical propositions. 
 
 Kant once said that he had admitted metaphysics (that 
 is, pure natural science) to the fellowship of mathematics. 
 It could not in truth be in better company, only he should 
 not have obliterated the essential difference existing be- 
 tween them. To that end, however, Kant invented the 
 formula : synthetic judgments a priori. He embraces the 
 pure mathematical and physical propositions under the 
 ambiguous term " synthetic." By making such an indefi- 
 nite and unsuitable distinction between " analytical and 
 synthetical " judgments, he has removed the clear distinc- 
 tion between judgments concerning the relations of notions 
 and judgments concerning the behavior of objects, and 
 thereby hopelessly entangled the investigation. Proposi- 
 tions of physics are now regarded as analogous to those of 
 
400 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 pure mathematics. But this idea is not consistently carried 
 out either. For the correct conception is always kept in 
 view : the question is not, how is pure, but how is applied, 
 mathematics possible ? Thus especially in the Transcen- 
 dental Deduction of Mathematics, which is found in the 
 Analytic under the title " Axioms of Intuition." Here the 
 real thought of Kant is clearly brought out : Applied mathe- 
 matics is possible, because " the empirical intuition is pos- 
 sible only through the pure intuition (of space and time) ; 
 and hence what geometry says of the latter is uncondition- 
 ally true of the former, and therefore the evasive statement 
 that sense-objects cannot conform to the rules of con- 
 struction in space falls to the ground." The same reason- 
 ing is followed in the Transcendental Deduction of Pure 
 Natural Science, The principles of the pure understanding 
 have objective validity, because the empirical thinking of 
 objects is possible only through pure thought. 
 
 If now, Hume might have continued, we examine Kant's 
 essential proposition that knowledge a priori, and hence 
 universal and necessary knowledge of facts, is possible 
 through the a priori synthetical functions, which are not 
 derived from experience, we shall find that it too is unten- 
 able. Even if we grant, as we most likely must, that there 
 are such synthetical functions and that they play an im- 
 portant part in the construction of our world of experience, 
 still serious objections may be urged against the Kantian 
 view. 
 
 First, the question arises : How do we reach a knowl- 
 edge of the synthetic functions ; do we get it a priori or by 
 experience ? Kant does not consider the question, and yet 
 his entire undertaking will prove futile unless it be an- 
 swered in the spirit of his philosophy. If we have no 
 a priori knowledge of the functions — and I hardly know 
 what that could mean even for adherents of the Kantian 
 system — if we know of them only by experience, that is, 
 by inner, anthropological experience, then the fundamental 
 propositions in which the form of these functions is ex- 
 pressed would have empirical validity only. The asser- 
 tions, Space and time are intuitive forms of human sensi- 
 bility, The categories are intellectual forms of the human 
 
Chap. II.] CRITICAL REMARKS ON KANTS THEORY. 401 
 
 understanding, would then be generalizations of anthro- 
 pology ; and the axiomatic propositions which express the 
 nature of our space-intuition or of the functions of our 
 judgment as laws of reality would in the last analysis be 
 propositions having empirical origin and empirical validity. 
 The self-evident condition would attach to them : in so far 
 as the synthetical functions remain identical. It would be 
 conceivable that human beings or beings like human 
 beings exist having other forms of intelligence, and then 
 the intelligence itself might possibly change. Our de- 
 scendants or even I myself might become equipped with 
 different forms of conception, If, for example, my intui- 
 tion were to change into a four-dimensional intuition of 
 space, the axioms based on the old intuition of space 
 would lose their objective validity. However improbable 
 all that may appear to us, it is none the less conceivable, 
 and hence we cannot prove the absolute universality and 
 necessity of such principles. They would be valid with 
 the proviso : so long and so far as these particular forms 
 of space, time, and the categories are constructive factors 
 of the world of phenomena. 
 
 In his Neue Kritik der reinen Vernunft, Fries raises 
 the question which Kant evaded, and answers it in the 
 sense of empiricism. Our knowledge of the formal ele- 
 ments is derived from experience only. The statement 
 has been made that Fries corrupts Kant's thought ; critical 
 philosophy does not aim at a psychological proof of an 
 anthropological fact, but at a transcendental inquiry into 
 the possibility of experience. And that cannot be accom- 
 plished by observing what men actually do, but by reflect- 
 ing upon what must be recognized in all knowledge as 
 the necessary constituent, one that cannot be eliminated 
 without destroying knowledge ; we must investigate the 
 axiomatic elements of knowledge. The synthetic princi- 
 ples are such elements ; they express the nature of the 
 intuitions of time and space, as well as of the forms of 
 thought : unless we presuppose their validity, experience is 
 utterly impossible. 
 
 Yery true ; that is what Kant aims at. But Hume 
 would answer : That is just where the petitio principii 
 
402 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 comes in ; I deny the axiomatic character of the causal 
 law in the Kantian sense, and yet I regard experience as 
 possible, such experience as we have in the sciences, not, 
 however, experience as a system of absolutely necessary and 
 universal propositions ; we have propositions that are pre- 
 sumed to be universal and valid. For these the physicist 
 really needs no other presupposition than the 'presumptive 
 universality and validity of the transcendental principles. 
 He may willingly grant, not only that a world is conceiv- 
 able for which our causal law, for example, is not valid, but 
 also that an event may at any moment occur in our world 
 which cannot be explained according to the causal law — a 
 movement, for instance, that is absolutely isolated and un- 
 related to all antecedent and succeeding movements. True, 
 were the physicist to hit upon such an event, he would not 
 cease to inquire into its cause and effect ; hence he would 
 not know or acknowledge it to be such an isolated fact. 
 But it is conceivable that a movement should have neither 
 a cause nor an effect. It is also conceivable that after hav- 
 ing repeatedly endeavored to discover the cause and effect 
 of certain phenomena and having failed, we should be 
 gradually determined no longer to apply the category of 
 causality to them. The same statements may be made of 
 the axiomatic propositions concerning the nature of space. 
 We presuppose that physical space is absolutely identical 
 with geometrical space, that it is, like the latter, continuous 
 and homogeneous. But we may also conceive that it is 
 not. A physical space, for example, which is inwardly 
 heterogeneous is conceivable. We assume that a move- 
 ment will continue with the same velocity unless it meets 
 with physical resistance ; and whenever that does not take 
 place, whenever the velocity of a body is diminished, we 
 assume that it was influenced by certain physical forces. 
 It is, however, conceivable that the assumption is false, 
 that different spaces are of different permeability, that 
 there are metaphysical inequalities in space. It is true, if 
 any one were to suggest that we explain the retardation of 
 a cosmical motion, for example, by such a hypothesis, we 
 should not consent to it ; we should insist that there are 
 unknown forces at work, and our reasoning could hardly be 
 
€hap. IL] CRITICAL REMARKS ON KANT'S THEORY. 403 
 
 shown to be erroneous. Nevertheless it is conceivable that 
 we could be mistaken, and that is all that is necessary to 
 destroy Kant's argument. 
 
 If, however, the counter-statements should be made 
 that Kant has demonstrated that physical space is not dif- 
 ferent from geometrical space, that it is the purely subjec- 
 tive intuition of space in which the whole of nature is con- 
 tained, we should reply as follows. 
 
 It is true, Kant assumes that space, time, and the cate- 
 gories are purely subjective factors of knowledge, and as 
 such uaiversally and necessarily applicable to whatever 
 can become an object of the subject. But with what right ? 
 He himself afterwards explains all knowledge by means of 
 two factors, the nature of the subject and the affections 
 which the things produce in it. How can a sharp line of 
 separation be drawn between the two ? The product only, 
 the world of ideas, is given ; how is it possible to determine 
 the factors from the product alone ? Kant himself makes 
 the assertion : It is absolutely impossible to deduce " par- 
 ticular laws of nature " from the pure understanding alone ; 
 we need " experience " for that. Well, if experience is 
 needed for the law of gravitation, why not also for the law 
 of causality? If "experience" is necessary for each par- 
 ticular localization — for geographical or astronomical locali- 
 zation, for example — why not for the formation of the idea 
 of space itself ? If, however, the nature of reality is a 
 factor in the creation of the idea of space, then the same 
 subject transplanted to a different world would produce a 
 different form of intuition, one perhaps that is not at all 
 comparable with our space. We may say the same of the 
 forms of thought. The same subject placed in different 
 surroundings would perhaps produce an entirely different 
 notion of natural uniformity, or perhaps none at all. And 
 hence the necessary conclusion would follow : There can 
 be no absolutely universal and necessary judgments of 
 facts. The principles would then be valid in all cases 
 where the understanding finds a reality like ours, not, how- 
 ever, beyond that. We can conceive of a world that would 
 not determine our intelligence to produce the law of gravi- 
 
404 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 tation. So, too, a world is conceivable that would not give 
 rise to the law of causality in our intelligence. 
 
 In this way Hume might defend his theorem against 
 Kant : There are no universal and necessary propositions 
 concerning facts. And he might add: Should any one 
 consider such speculations on conceivability and possi- 
 bility superfluous and say that, for the world in which we 
 happen to live, our intuition of space and our laws of 
 thought are adequate forms of conception, I, Hume, will 
 not deny it. It seems to me that Kant's " vindication of 
 the sciences " against skepticism is, to say the least, 
 equally superfluous. For all theoretical and practical pur- 
 poses the conception of the causal law as the safest gen- 
 eralization of all our experiences is just as good as Kant's 
 a priori laws of thought. He would be as little inclined as 
 Kant to assume exceptions to the causal law. Against 
 alleged miracles he would, like the latter, urge the causal 
 law as an " axiomatic " proposition. 
 
 Hume would most likely also have called attention to 
 another fact that makes the value of the Kantian vindica- 
 tion wholly illusory. Kant himself confesses that the 
 knowledge of each particular causal relation is possible 
 only through experience. Herein he entirely agrees with 
 Hume; he does not at all share the view of the older 
 rationalism which believed that the particular effect could 
 in an " analytical " judgment be deduced from the notion 
 of the cause by a mere act of thought. Hence each par- 
 ticular causal relation, every natural law of our mechanics 
 and physics, is, even according to Kant, an empirical law, 
 and as such has no mathematical universality and necessity. 
 Only the causal law itself, the formula : Everything that 
 happens presupposes something upon which it follows 
 according to a rule, is said to be purely a priori and hence 
 universal and necessary. Well, very little would be gained 
 by that. We should simply know that every event regularly 
 succeeds some other event. Experience would have to tell 
 us which one it is, and even then it would always be pos- 
 sible to learn more from subsequent experience. True, 
 we would know : If such and such a relation of succession 
 derived from experience is a causal relation, then it is 
 
Chap. IL] CRITICAL REMARKS ON KANT 8 THEORY. 405 
 
 necessary and universally valid ; but we could never be 
 absolutely certain that we have a real causal relation be- 
 fore us and not merely an accidental and contingent suc- 
 cession. Thus, for example, common-sense is disposed to 
 construct from its experiences a general law of nature : 
 The velocity of a falling body is dependent on its specific 
 weight. Physics corrects the formula ; it is only condi- 
 tionally valid : provided, namely, that the body falls through 
 a resistant medium. In case this condition is removed, 
 e.g., by the construction of a vacuum, all bodies fall with 
 equal velocity. Well, it is likewise conceivable that the 
 law of gravitation should be only conditionally true ; that 
 the parts of ponderable matter gravitate towards each 
 other only on condition, e.g., of the presence of an ether or 
 an electric tension. If it were possible to eliminate this 
 influence, the phenomena of gravitation would cease. 
 Even the law of the conservation of motion or of matter is 
 no exception to the rule. It is conceivable, e.g., that matter 
 and motion are constantly destroyed, but that they are 
 constantly restored in equal measure by a cause unknown 
 to us, say by a transcendent being. In case the activity of 
 this being were to cease, we might reason, the loss would 
 be apparent. That is an utterly arbitrary notion, but it is 
 conceivable. 
 
 Hence, Hume might say, even if Kant has vindicated the 
 universal validity of the causal law, physics does not gain 
 anything by it ; all its laws remain empirical laws having 
 presumptive universal validity only. This attempt at a 
 " vindication of the sciences " against skepticism, made 
 with so much ado, Hume might continue, seems to me to 
 yield rather modest, not to say scant, results. 
 
 Finally, however, Hume might have considered another 
 point in his criticism : The entire Kantian argument breaks 
 in two. Kant ought really to say what he says at the be- 
 ginning : particular qualitatively - determined sensations 
 alone are given, whereas all combination, all arrangement, 
 is to be referred to the synthetic functions of the subject. 
 Through the forms of intuition and the categories, which 
 are but functions of synthesis and arrangement, each ele- 
 ment is assigned its place in the whole of things. Kant, 
 
406 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II.. 
 
 however, afterwards recoiled from this consequence of his 
 assumption. In the Transcendental Deduction he admits 
 that our knowledge of the time-succession of events springs 
 from "experience," that "experience" is essential to a 
 knowledge of particular laws of nature. " The faculty of 
 pure understanding, however, can by mere categories pre- 
 scribe only such a priori laws to phenomena as govern 
 nature in general, meaning thereby the uniformity of phe- 
 nomena in space and time. Particular laws are concerned 
 with empirically-determined ( ! ) phenomena and cannot 
 therefore be completely deduced from it. Experience 
 must be added. ..." This conclusion breaks the Trans- 
 cendental Deduction in two. If " experience " can and must 
 co-operate in determining the time-succession, where shall 
 we draw the line ? If the understanding needs " experi- 
 ence " to make biological generalizations, chemical formulae, 
 and physical laws, why should not the same hold for 
 the laws of causality and substantiality? Because they 
 are universal and necessary ? But that is the very point 
 in question. 
 
 It is everywhere apparent how serious the break is, and 
 how impossible it is to explain the unity of experience 
 found in the sciences, by the pure intellectual concepts or 
 the synthetic functions of the understanding and such 
 " empirical determinations " of the phenomena. Bead the 
 Transcendental Deduction with its endless cumbersome repe- 
 titions, where the conclusion invariably contradicts the be- 
 ginning. First the assumption is made that synthesis is 
 the product of the understanding, and then the proviso 
 comes hobbling after : but particular synthesis springs from 
 " experience," in which ambiguous notion the whole misery 
 lies concealed. Note the attempts made to separate pure 
 apperception and empirical association and then to unite 
 them again, or the desperate endeavors in the chapter on 
 the Schematism of the Pure Concepts of the Understanding to 
 reduce the synthesis of thought to the sensuous synthesis 
 of sensations in time or the no less desperate efforts of the 
 Prolegomena (§ 20) to make " experience " out of " judgments 
 of perception." I do not believe that anybody can boast 
 of really being able to understand, i.e., to think, these 
 
Chap. II.] CRITICAL REMARKS ON KANT'S THEORY. 407 
 
 thoughts. We can understand them psychologically only, 
 by disclosing the different impulses which pull the Kantian 
 thought in different directions. 
 
 In regard to all this we may now say : Kant is quite 
 right in maintaining that experience is not passively re- 
 ceived, but a product of the sensibility and the understand- 
 ing. We can also say : The intelligence itself produces 
 nature, the totality of uniformly-connected phenomena. 
 But, we must add, it produces it wholly in one and the same 
 way, by observation and reflection. It has taken the human 
 mind thousands of years to create nature, that is, the world 
 as we now see it, by means of perception and reflection, 
 explorations and philologico-historical research, by micro- 
 scopic and telescopic observations and mathematical specu- 
 lation, by physical experiments and conceptual deductions. 
 There is not an item either in the constitution of the cosmos 
 or in the inner uniformity of the course of nature that did 
 not require the co-operation of observation and reflection. 
 It is utterly impossible to make an absolute division be- 
 tween " empirical " and a priori elements. Even the causal 
 law is an " empirical " law, not in the sense of being im- 
 pressed upon the understanding from without, for that 
 never happens, but in the sense that it presupposes ob- 
 servation as much as any law of chemistry or biology. 
 The ground of our faith in the universal reign of law in 
 nature is at bottom no other than the ground of our faith 
 in the universal validity of the rule that every man has a 
 father and a mother. Not an a priori necessity, but experi- 
 ence is its support. Of course, not ordinary experience, 
 but scientific experience. Popular experience does not 
 assume the universal validit}^ of the causal law at all ; to 
 this day it reckons with accidents and chances ; it has so 
 often perceived absolute origination and decay that it sees 
 nothing objectionable in these notions. It was science that 
 first created the notion of natural uniformity. On what 
 does it base its conviction? On the fact, no doubt, that 
 wherever it gained a deeper insight into things, it univer- 
 sally discovered causal connections or could show that so- 
 called origin and decay were in truth but transitions from 
 existing movements and substances to new forms. And 
 
408 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II 
 
 such experiences, a thousand times repeated, science formu- 
 lates into axiomatic propositions which express the uni- 
 versal reign of law in nature, and says : Even in cases 
 where we do not yet know the cause or the law, it is pres- 
 ent. If, however, science had never experienced the facts 
 just mentioned, such axioms would be out of the question. 
 
 This brings us to a point which I shall consider some- 
 what more in detail. Kant starts from a biological con- 
 ception that was common in his day : The nature of living 
 beings is unchangeable. So, too, the forms of intuition 
 and thought are for him the constant endowments of our 
 intelligence. 
 
 Modern anthropology cannot concede this. There is 
 nothing absolutely stable in the organic world ; everything 
 in it is a growth and everything is changeable. The or- 
 ganization of the body, the nervous system, is the product 
 of a long series of transformations. Hence the same 
 remarks will also apply to the intellectual organization. 
 Space, time, and causality are not original, fixed posses- 
 sions of human intelligence ; they were gradually developed 
 by the race in the course of its long life, just as they are 
 developed by the individual — developed, it is true, on the 
 ground of inherited dispositions and with the help of the 
 parental generation. This is most apparent in the case of 
 the causal conception of reality : the function is acquired 
 by the individual not otherwise than number and speech. 
 Hence it is that different individuals meet with different 
 success in the employment of the causal function. Some 
 do not get beyond the most immediate, practically-important 
 causal connections, while to many the notion of a strict and 
 universal reign of law in nature is wholly unknown. 
 
 We may not only trace the development of the causal 
 function in the individual, but may also outline its histori- 
 cal origin in the race. We find it in primitive form even 
 among the more highly developed animals ; they learn to 
 adapt their behavior to what occurs in the environment ; 
 experience makes them wiser. This is evidently due to 
 the fact that they remember the succession of events. 
 When the antecedent appears, the consequent is anticipated 
 by a kind of unintentional inference which determines the 
 
Chap. IL] CRITICAL REMARKS ON KANTS THEORY. 409 
 
 practical beliavior of the animal. And to some extent 
 the converse of the inference is also drawn : The conse- 
 quent is an object of desire ; it calls the antecedent into 
 consciousness as a means to an end. The dog that has 
 been taught to beg by having his first performance re- 
 warded with a fat morsel henceforth uses his art as the 
 means to an end. The formula according to which he 
 infers, even though he does not embody it in a proposition, 
 is: The same antecedent is followed by the same conse- 
 quent ; if it does not always follow, it may at least always 
 be expected. 
 
 Human inference is at first not different from this. 
 Indeed, we may say that many persons never rise beyond 
 it at all in principle, though they employ the process more 
 extensively and with greater success than the most saga- 
 cious animal. Thus the whole of popular medicine, its 
 pathology, therapeutics, and dietetics, consists of observed 
 (be it of correctly or falsely observed) consequences. If 
 you do thus or so, you will catch cold or get the fever ; 
 when you have the fever, you must sweat or take medicine. 
 In some cases the need of a causal explanation is wholly 
 satisfied with such connections. Nor will exceptions be 
 taken if the remedy does not help in every case. The 
 popular causal law does not require that ; its formula is : As 
 a rule, the same antecedent is followed by the same conse- 
 quent ; sometimes, however, it may happen otherwise. In- 
 deed, this formula satisfies the most immediate needs ; prac- 
 tical life has to do solely with such complicated connections 
 as can be embraced only under rules which have exceptions, 
 not under strictly universal laws : the peasant is concerned 
 with the weather and such organic processes of life as 
 cannot be calculated but only foreseen according to the 
 formula in question, the mechanic with materials and tools 
 which are never constructed exactly alike, the teacher and 
 the official with human natures which, though they gener- 
 ally resemble one another, yet have their peculiarities and 
 do not therefore react upon the same influences in the 
 same way. 
 
 In fact we may say : It is really only a few centuries 
 since science has arrived at a more exact formulation of 
 
410 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 the causal law. The Aristotelian philosophy is satisfied 
 with a conception of causality that admits of exceptions 
 which cannot be controlled ; they are called accidents and 
 are referred to the uncertain, indefinable, and lawless factor 
 in nature, matter, whereas uniformity is peculiar to the 
 other factor, conceptual essence. Hence, in so far as this 
 disturbing element is present, science cannot get beyond 
 the formula : " as a rule." Modern physics first consistently 
 developed the notion of the uniformity of nature. The 
 laws of mechanics have become the typical examples of all 
 uniformity. It is owing to them that the idea of a strictly 
 universal and absolute reign of law in all occurrences, in 
 the outer as well as in the inner world, was first devel- 
 oped. Descartes applies the thought to the external 
 world, especially to the biological domain ; Hobbes and 
 Spinoza, to the inner realm : volition and feeling obey ab- 
 solute laws as well as the movements in the corporeal 
 world. 
 
 How was the causal function developed in the human 
 understanding ? We may answer : By the evolution of the 
 faculty to analyze complex facts into their components. 
 The reasoning of animals, if we wish to designate their in- 
 ferences by that name, consists in associating complex pro- 
 cesses or perceptions. A horse that has once been well 
 fed in a certain stable will, on passing along the same road 
 after many years, turn into it again. In this case the entire 
 surroundings are associated with the idea of good fodder. 
 The same associations act in the case of man, only he does 
 not obey them without hesitation ; he first deliberates 
 whether the same results can be expected to-day as before ; 
 whether the same man lives there, whether the same con- 
 ditions obtain which caused him to be received so well at 
 that time. The zoologist Möbius somewhere tells of the 
 following experiment. A pike was placed on one side of 
 a water-basin that had been divided into two separate 
 compartments by a pane of glass ; all kinds of little animals 
 upon which the pike usually preys were placed in the ad- 
 joining space. The pike at once made for the animals, but 
 instead of the expected morsel he received a smart blow 
 from the glass. After several repetitions he finally learned 
 
 
Chap. II.] CRITICAL REMARKS ON KANT'S THEORY. 411 
 
 to give up the prey. A few weeks later the pane of glass 
 was removed and the pike was now free to move around 
 the other animals ; he could not, however, be prevailed 
 upon to attack them. He had manifestly made a law 
 of nature for himself. To fall upon these animals results 
 in a blow on the jaws. A man would, under similar cir- 
 cumstances, try to analyze the complex occurrence into 
 its simple elements. He would say : The blow which you 
 receive is, perhaps, not a result of the nature of the prey, 
 but of some obstacle or other that is not visible to your 
 eyes. He would straightway attempt to discover the 
 nature of the obstacle by feeling around with his hand, 
 and then try to remove it or climb over it. A highly de- 
 veloped animal intelligence would have sufficed to bring 
 about the same result. But, as a rule, the behavior of 
 animals and the thoughts by which they are guided differ 
 from human conduct in this, that animals react upon com- 
 plex situations or processes with stereotyped inferences 
 and acts. Human thought, and consequently human con- 
 duct, is more flexible ; it analyzes the phenomenon into its 
 essential factors and accidental circumstances and hence 
 separates real and constant sequences from accidental and 
 transitory combinations. 
 
 It is plain that this faculty is most intimately connected 
 with the characteristic which makes human thought 
 superior to animal thought : with conceptual thinking. The 
 nature of conceptual thought consists in resolving the per- 
 ceptual complexus into its elements ; it consists in the inner 
 organization of the perception ; analysis and synthesis consti- 
 tute the two sides of the process. The different elements of 
 the perception are isolated in the concept and then brought 
 into relation with each other again in the judgment. A 
 heavy stone will sink in water, wet wood will not burn ; a 
 judgment of perception as simple as this presupposes 
 enormous intellectual labor. The human eye does not see 
 more than that of the animal, but what remains an obscure 
 medley of perceptions in the animal consciousness is re- 
 solved into a plurality of components by the human intel- 
 ligence and then recombined into a unified system. It 
 marks off the object for itself, then its quality, likewise its 
 
412 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 movement ; then it distinguishes in the movement its 
 direction and velocity ; then it forms a judgment by com- 
 bining all the elements of the entire occurrence into a 
 whole, into an organized whole in which each part has its 
 particular place. It is evident that a knowledge of natural 
 laws was rendered possible only through such an organi- 
 zation of perceptions, and that presupposes keen analysis. 
 Only after the persistent substance and the transitory 
 process of motion were analyzed out of the perception of 
 a body in motion, and the direction then discriminated 
 from the motion itself, and after each of these elements 
 was relatively isolated, could the understanding rise to a 
 knowledge of the law of gravitation or the law of inertia. 
 The creation of the system of notions and categories which 
 finds objective expression in language, the thorough-going 
 articulation of reality, which corresponds to the articula- 
 tion of speech — that is the enormous task which the human 
 mind performed before it could undertake the scientific 
 investigation of things. At present each individual ac- 
 quires the results of the labors of countless generations 
 of ancestors, almost without exertion, within the first two 
 or three years of life, while the following two decades are 
 spent in mastering the improvements made in this system 
 of concepts by scientific thought. 
 
 The conditions of the development of man's theoretical 
 capacities are to be sought in his entire psycho-physical 
 make-up. No doubt the hand plays a very significant part 
 in the evolution. Man is not specialty favored in the pos- 
 session of sense-organs. In the hand, however, he has a 
 wonderful instrument of inquiry. It divides and joins 
 together objects and qualities or states in the real world, 
 it gives a body form, position, motion, and color, and de- 
 prives it of them. How helplessly the quadrupeds stand 
 before the things, possessing, as they do, only one prehen- 
 sile organ, the teeth ! No wonder the objects remain mute 
 in the presence of their understanding and seem to speak 
 to their stomachs only ! Note, on the other hand, that 
 even the little child experiments on objects with the hand, 
 how it turns them hither and thither, and looks at them, 
 sets them up and knocks them down, takes them apart and 
 
Chap. II.] CRITICAL REMARKS ON KANT'S THEORY. 413 
 
 joins them together. This practical analysis and synthesis 
 which the hand employs on objects is repeated in the analy- 
 sis and the synthesis which the understanding employs in 
 perception. The concepts of the understanding corre- 
 spond to the tools used by the hand. It has been rightly 
 said that the characteristic which distinguishes man from 
 the animals is his ability to make tools and to think in 
 concepts. Indeed, there is an intimate connection between 
 the two. Man acts upon percepts which the animal re- 
 ceives passively. His behavior is especially conditioned 
 by the fact that he has a hand, which is ever ready to 
 interfere with the course of events by experimenting on 
 them. The experiment of the natural scientist is but an 
 advance on the primitive experimentation of the hand of 
 the child. And whoever has failed to handle things as a 
 child will never become acquainted with them, even though 
 he gather all the book- knowledge of the world in his head. 
 Let us now return to the subject under discussion and 
 say : From the standpoint of the theory of evolution it is 
 utterly impossible to speak of the absolute apriority of 
 certain functions. Space, time, and the categories are as 
 much products of evolution as eyes, ears, and brains. Like 
 the latter, they now belong to the hereditary possessions 
 of the individual, at least in a certain sense, as much so as 
 our entire system of concepts, which is transmitted in lan- 
 guage and which we are obliged to regard as the historical 
 heritage of the individual. He finds himself in possession 
 of it when he begins to think ; it is the a priori element, 
 as it were, of the knowledge acquired by him in the course 
 of a lifetime. Nor is it at all doubtful that his conception 
 of the universe is invariably determined by this a priori 
 element ; with the inherited forms of intuition and thought 
 he apperceives whatever is presented to him. On the 
 other hand, we do not, of course, believe that this mental 
 endowment is a priori in the sense of constituting the 
 essence of intelligence as a system of absolutely rigid 
 forms that are wholly unrelated to reality ; we must say : 
 All organs are developed by the contact of living beings 
 with their environment and are adapted to their surround- 
 ings. The same is true of the most important and most 
 
414 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 delicate of all organs, the intellect. Web-footed animals 
 could have been developed only in the vicinity of water and 
 by coming in constant contact with water ; ears could have 
 been evolved only in an environment that transmits sound- 
 waves. Similarly the inner forms of our intuition and 
 thought could have originated only in such an environ- 
 ment as our world offers. It is true, we cannot demon- 
 strate the suitableness of the latter as we may in the case 
 of web-footed animals ; we cannot step outside of our ideal 
 world and compare it with the real world. However, if we 
 assume that the subject and its intelligence are developed 
 in an actual world, we cannot refrain from regarding the 
 world as a co-operative factor in the formation of the 
 intelligence. 
 
 Our conclusion would therefore be: Kant has not 
 accomplished the task at which the argument in the 
 JEsthetic and Analytic chiefly aims : he has not succeeded 
 in proving the possibility of a knowledge of facts by " pure 
 reason," and hence the possibility of strictly universal and 
 necessary judgments concerning facts. On this point 
 Hume's empiricism holds its own against Kant. 
 
 On the other hand, Kant's epistemology contains a 
 number of valuable and permanent elements, and these I 
 should like briefly to touch upon in conclusion. 
 
 Above all, it emphasizes the important truth that knowl- 
 edge is not a collection of " impressions," but a product of 
 the spontaneous activity of the subject. Empiricism in- 
 clines to the erroneous view that the soul is originally a 
 piece of white paper on which objects inscribe their char- 
 acters by means of the senses. This view runs through all 
 sensualistic and empiristic theories, from the sensualistic 
 materialism of antiquity, which assumed that minute cor- 
 poreal images are separated from the surface of objects 
 like little membranes and wander into the sensorium, down 
 to the present time. Kant's theory shows the utter in- 
 sufficiency of such a view, which makes of the subject a 
 passive receptacle for impressions. There is absolutely 
 nothing in our knowledge that wanders into the soul from 
 without. Even the mere sensation of light, sound, and 
 taste is not impressed upon it from without ; it is created 
 
Chap. II.] CRITICAL REMARKS ON KANT'S THEORY. 415 
 
 by the soul when this comes in contact with the environ- 
 ment and is therefore simply its own product. Kant 
 assumes this truth as a universally accepted fact. On the 
 other hand, he insists that even the general forms of the 
 sensuous-intuitive world, space and time, are arrangements 
 spontaneously produced by the subject, not copies of an 
 actually-existent empty space or empty time. Their reality 
 consists solely in that active function of the subject which 
 combines a plurality of sense-elements into the unity of a 
 perception. 
 
 We cannot help but believe that reality as such, to 
 which the subject bears an original and not further defin- 
 able relation, is in some way or other the occasion of the 
 nature of its presentation. We may ascribe an "intel- 
 ligible " order to it to which our forms of intuition some- 
 how correspond. But these forms of intuition are them- 
 selves not impressions, but creations of the subject; the 
 bodies and their movements are phenomena. 
 
 This truth is even more apparent in the case of con- 
 cepts. A concept is not a collection of impressions, a 
 composite image, in which the common features are inten- 
 sified, the dissimilar ones effaced, an image like that made 
 on a photographic plate by repeatedly exposing the same 
 to similar objects and thus mechanically producing the 
 type of the physician or the preacher. The concepts exist 
 only as the active function of conceiving a plurality of per- 
 cepts. The matter is very plain when we consider more 
 general concepts. We might possibly delude ourselves 
 into believing that the notion of the apple is stored 
 in the memory like a composite photograph, although 
 even in this case it would be difficult to produce a " com- 
 posite picture " of big and little, red and green, round 
 and angular apples. But the impossibility of forming a 
 composite picture of fruit in general, representing apples 
 and cherries and nuts and figs, etc., is quite apparent. 
 And think of the composite picture of a product or a body 
 or an object in general, or of the general image of color, 
 form, size, velocity, direction, unity, plurality, reality, pos- 
 sibility, negation! It is plain that concepts like these can- 
 not be produced by a kind of photographic process; they 
 
416 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 do not exist at all in the form of intuitive images, but only 
 as conceptual activities, as mental operations dealing with 
 a multitude of possible percepts, in which the word or some 
 other sign serves as a substitute for the idea. Of course, 
 such notions could not exist without percepts ; and their 
 sole importance consists in the fact that the percepts exist 
 which we conceive or command by means of them. 
 
 We shall therefore say : All knowledge is an activity 
 of the subject, and as such a priori. Certainly not a priori 
 in the sense of being an absolutely isolated inner process. 
 The activity of the intelligence is, like all activity, partially 
 determined by the nature of the objects towards which it 
 is directed. Sensations are activities of the subject pro- 
 voked by the environment. The stimulus helps to deter- 
 mine the quality of the sensation ; the sensation in turn 
 stimulates the subject to produce the perception, the per- 
 ception becomes a stimulus for the formation of the con- 
 ceptual system. We can therefore also say : All knowledge 
 is a posteriori ; this is as true of the highest categories as 
 of the most primitive sensations. And that is essentially 
 Kant's meaning. There is no real knowledge that does not 
 contain both an a priori and an a posteriori element. Per- 
 cepts without concepts are blind, concepts without percepts 
 are empty. But he persisted in ascribing pure and abso- 
 lute apriority to certain elements, simply in order to save 
 the universality and necessity, as well as the objective 
 validity, of certain propositions, " the synthetical principles 
 of the pure understanding." 
 
 From this another conclusion follows. We shall say 
 with Kant and with all rationalists, beginning with the very 
 first Greek philosophers : Scientific knowledge is not de- 
 rived from the senses, but from the understanding ; it is 
 produced, not by perception, but by conceptual thought. 
 Of course, philosophical empiricism needs no instruction 
 on this point. Hume and J. S. Mill knew perfectly well 
 the respective parts taken by the senses and by thought in 
 science. Hume would not have written a theory of knowl- 
 edge, nor Mill a system of the inductive method, had they 
 believed that the eyes and the ears are the real organs of 
 scientific knowledge ; and Bacon is not an empiricist m the 
 
Chap IL] CRITICAL BEMARKS ON KANT'S THEORY. 417 
 
 sense of having been the first to call the attention of his 
 contemporaries to the fact that they would have to open 
 their eyes if they would know anything of objects. On the 
 contrary, he points out that it is not enough to gather ob- 
 servations. True, that too must be done, but it is a mere 
 prelude to the real scientific work, the inductio vera. Im- 
 perfect induction, the inductio per enumerationem simplicem, 
 contents itself with enumerating a few cases and then 
 drawing from them a general law. Bacon prided himself 
 on having discovered a method by which to draw real, 
 universally valid judgments from particular observations, 
 i.e., a method for creating science. Whether or not he suc- 
 ceeded in his undertaking is a different question ; at any 
 rate, he had a correct conception of the problem. 
 
 Indeed, only the most superficial reflection can rest in 
 the belief that scientific knowledge is derived from percep- 
 tion. Not the senses but the understanding made Coper- 
 nicus the founder of modern astronomy and Galileo the 
 founder of modern natural science. Nay, one might say in 
 the spirit of Plato : Only by destroying the illusions of 
 sense did they advance to the truth. The geocentric con- 
 ception, the Aristotelian distinction between light and 
 heavy bodies, the former of which tend upwards, the latter 
 downwards, in proportion to their weight, seems much 
 more plausible to the senses or to the man who does not 
 go beyond them, than the doctrine of modern science. 
 The same is true of the proposition of Aristotelian me- 
 chanics : The movements caused by external forces cease 
 of their own accord when the velocity communicated by 
 the impact is exhausted. Daily " experience " proves this. 
 It is the thought which transcends perception that leads 
 to new views, not, of course, without drawing perception 
 or observation into its service. Thought resolves the mani- 
 fold movements of rise and fall, of projection and impact, 
 which old physics, relying on perception, simply accepted 
 as absolute facts, into their component parts. Thus it ex- 
 plains the real motion of an impelled body by the coopera- 
 tion of the tendency to persist and the resistance which the 
 body has constantly to overcome ; it explains the real fall- 
 ing motion, whether it be motion upwards or downwards, 
 
418 PROBLEM OF TEE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book IL 
 
 by the general tendency of bodies to gravitate and to per- 
 sist, which acts in cooperation with the static tendency of 
 the medium. Thus Newton resolved the heavenly move- 
 ments, explaining them by the cooperation of an original 
 tangential motion and the tendency to gravitation. The old 
 cosmology had simply formulated the perceptions as they 
 offered themselves to the senses: The motion of the heavenly 
 bodies is the simple, uniform, eternal circular motion.* 
 
 Hence science is universally found to be the result of 
 reflection which has emancipated itself from sense-percep- 
 tion. In observation or in the experiment, perception be- 
 comes an indispensable but altogether secondary factor. 
 The more developed science becomes, the less important is 
 the part played by perception. The biological sciences at 
 present very plainly exemplify the diminished importance 
 of perception. Physiology and the theory of evolution 
 have begun to transform the old " descriptive " sciences, 
 which gathered perceptions, into systems of thought. Thus 
 we may say even of Darwin's theory that it is " contrary to 
 sense " (ividersinnisch) in the same sense in which Kant 
 once applied the term to the Copernican theory ; it con- 
 tradicts the truth of the perception that the specific type is 
 constant. Even history manifests such a tendency to 
 change from what it was, i.e., a mere collection of percepts 
 (recollections and testimonies), into a system of evident 
 truths. The beginning has been made by the doctrine of 
 the laws of economic life, and its influence on the develop- 
 ment of historical science is apparently increasing rapidly. 
 The laws of political economy evidently did not arise 
 from a collection of percepts, but were discovered by de- 
 ductive thought. Nay, we may go a step farther and say : 
 Historical research does not acquire its truths by gather- 
 
 * Lotze, Logik, p. 585 (English Translation edited by B. Bosanquet, vol. 
 II. p. 314): " It was not by the testimony of repeated perceptions that they 
 (the principles of mechanics) were discovered and reduced to the exact 
 form of a law ; it was by an operation of thought, apprehending with the 
 clearness of immediate vision the self-evident law in an instance where it is 
 presented in its purity." Then self -evidence, he goes on to say (p. 596, 
 Eng. trans, p. 329), " must no longer be called logical but (Esthetic, and 
 will accordingly find the touchstone of its validity no longer in the un- 
 thinkableness, but in the plain absurdity, of its contradictory." 
 
Ohap. IL] CRITICAL REMARKS ON KANT'S THEORY. 419 
 
 ing testimony ; whoever has no a priori knowledge of what 
 has taken place cannot be taught by the evidence ; unless 
 you know how to seek, you will find nothing ; unless you 
 know how to ask, the sources will give no answer, but will 
 overwhelm you with a confused mass of rumors and opin- 
 ions. He alone can make inquiries who knows what the 
 subject is about. Old Heraclitus was quite right when he 
 declared : Polymathy will not beget understanding. 
 
 In conclusion let me call to mind the cardinal thought 
 in the Kantian philosophy : Knowledge is a function of the 
 subject, but not the only and not the most important one. Its 
 object is to serve us as a practical guide through the world, 
 and it realizes this end. It is not, however, given to us, 
 nor is it adequate, as a means of penetrating absolutely into 
 the inner essence of reality, of resolving the world into 
 thoughts, so to speak. Hume agrees with Kant on this 
 point : An absolute knowledge of reality is impossible. 
 That was the error of old rationalism or dogmatism : it be- 
 lieved that both the dignity of man and the final goal of 
 life consisted in knowledge. Kant subjects this over- 
 weening scientific pride, which both the philosophy of the 
 school and scholastic theology share, to the most crushing 
 criticism : there is no science of the absolute or suprasen- 
 suous. The absolute and suprasensuous exists, but it tran- 
 scends the sphere of possible knowledge. Critical reflec- 
 tion shows us that our knowledge is confined to the domain 
 of the sensuous, to possible experience ; it also shows us, 
 on the other hand, that our world of experience is not the 
 world of things-in-themselves. Our theoretical reason takes 
 us so far. 
 
 Practical reason takes us a step farther, as does every 
 philosophy that does not restrict itself to the theoretical 
 speculation on nature, but contemplates man from the 
 point of view of his vocation. And such a philosophy alone 
 is philosophy in the highest sense, philosophy in its world- 
 definition, as distinguished from the scholastic definition of 
 the term. It shows us that the vocation and dignity of 
 man is not ultimately rooted in knowledge, but in the voli- 
 tional side of his nature. Here also lie the deepest roots 
 of our being ; in conscience, in the consciousness of the 
 
420 PROBLEM OF THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE. [Book II. 
 
 moral law, we become aware of our real essence. We pos- 
 sess the immediate certainty that the real essence of our 
 being is grounded on reality itself, that we belong, not to 
 nature as it appears to the senses and the understanding, 
 but to absolute reality itself, and therefore come to believe 
 in the absolute teleological order of things, in a moral 
 world-order, of which the natural order is but an external 
 reflection. In religion the spirit posits what it regards as 
 the highest and best, as the emanation of the final source 
 of reality, and conceives reality as the phenomenon of a 
 realm of ends, as the creation of God and the sphere of 
 his activity. It is an aberration of the mind to hold after- 
 wards that faith can be proved and forced upon the intel- 
 lect. This error gives rise to a reaction, to the negative 
 dogmatism of materialistic atheism. The critical phi- 
 losophy reveals the impossibility both of a positive and a 
 negative dogmatism. In doing that it demonstrates the 
 possibility of faith, of a faith that is grounded solely on the 
 will and needs no proof : I could not live, I could not 
 breathe and move freely in a world that is nothing but an 
 enormous senseless and soulless machine ; hence I cannot 
 believe that it is such a machine ; hence I believe that it is 
 the revelation of an all-wise and all-good God, even though 
 my eyes fail to see him and my understanding comprehend 
 him not. 
 
APPENDIX, 
 
 THE PKOBLEMS OF ETHICS * 
 
 It is a fact that man's actions are determined by mo- 
 tives which exist in the form of purposes, i.e., as ideas of a 
 good to be attained by action. Thus the question arises : 
 What is the final aim or the highest good for the sake of 
 which everything else is desired ? Hedonism answers : 
 Pleasure; it is for this that everything else is desired. 
 This view is opposed by another theory, which does not 
 seek the highest good in subjective feelings, but in an ob- 
 jective content of life, or, since life is activity, in a specific 
 mode of life. a Permit me to call this view energism. 
 
 It is also a fact that human beings judge the behavior 
 and acts of others as well as of themselves. They judge 
 by means of the predicates good and bad. A man's conduct 
 and disposition arouse feelings of approval or disapproval 
 in the spectator ; when these feelings become habitual, 
 feelings of admiration or contempt arise. When such emo- 
 tions are referred to our own self and our past behavior, 
 they are called feelings of remorse or pangs of conscience, 
 or, conversely, self-respect and peace of conscience. When 
 they refer to possible future actions, we call them feelings 
 of duty or feelings of obligation. That phase of our nature 
 by means of which we judge of our volitions and acts is 
 called conscience. 
 
 The question arises : What occasions such a judgment 
 
 * The following suggestions are intended to indicate the position occupied 
 by ethical inquiries rather than to give an elaborate exposition of the same. 
 The reader who is interested in my views on these subjects will find a de- 
 tailed account of them in my System der Ethik (3d ed., 1894). 
 
 421 
 
422 APPENDIX. 
 
 which at first sight appears to be wholly independent of 
 my judgment concerning what is useful or harmful ? 
 What is the standard by which we measure the moral worth 
 of dispositions and actions ? This question, too, may be 
 answered in two ways : (1) The moral law, which every- 
 body harbors within himself, is the standard of moral 
 worth ; an act is good when the will is determined by a re- 
 gard for the moral law. (2) The effect of the act upon the 
 welfare of all whom it reaches is the standard. This con- 
 stitutes the distinction between formalistic and teleological 
 moral philosophy. 
 
 The antithesis between hedonism and energism is funda- 
 mental to the Greek systems of morality. Aristippus and 
 Epicurus belong to the former, Plato, Aristotle, and the 
 Stoa to the latter school. In modern philosophy it is above 
 all the adherents of English empiricism and analytical 
 psychology who incline to hedonism. Bentham and James 
 Mill are its most consistent representatives. Psychologi- 
 cal analysis, they find, reveals the fact that all action is, 
 without exception, determined by the motive to procure 
 pleasure and to avoid pain. The necessary goal of human 
 volition is accordingly to obtain a maximum of pleasure 
 and a minimum of pain. Different forms of energism are 
 advanced by Hobbes, Spinoza, Shaftesbury, Leibniz, and 
 Wolff: self-preservation and self-realization, the freedom 
 of the rational self in real thought, the harmonious devel- 
 opment and exercise of all our powers, perfection — these 
 are some of the principles advanced by the theory. The 
 evolutionistic ethics of modern times accepts this view : 
 A specific type of life and the exercise of the same is the 
 real aim of all life and striving. 
 
 I believe that energism is in the right. Analytical 
 psychology is in error when it holds that the idea of pleasure 
 is the constant motive of human volition. It is a false 
 theory of willing that bases it exclusively on feelings of 
 pleasure and pain. It is not true that a feeling of pleasure 
 is first aroused by the food or sexual function, and that 
 after the pleasure has once been experienced it is antici- 
 pated in the future, and that the impulses spring from the 
 expected pleasure. Nor is it true that feelings of pain are 
 
THE PROBLEMS OF ETHICS. 423 
 
 first removed by the exercise of these functions, and that a 
 permanent impulse is thereby created. No, the impulse is 
 an original determination of the being ; it arises in con- 
 sciousness, not as pain, but as a felt craving, as a desire 
 or a love for a particular mode of action ; and a feeling of 
 pleasure appears only when the impulse is realized, while 
 a feeling of pain ensues when it is obstructed. Unless the 
 impulse existed, pleasure and pain would be out of the 
 question. The same may be said of the higher impulses ; 
 the impulses to specific action, to run and to leap, to play 
 and to work, to fight and to rule, to think and to write poetry, 
 make themselves felt in life at the proper time without be- 
 ing preceded by feelings of pain, the removal of which is 
 the end desired. Nor are feelings of pleasure presented in 
 idea as the goal of the activity. Accordingly we say : The 
 goal at which the will aims does not consist in a maximum 
 of pleasurable feelings, but in the normal exercise of the 
 vital functions for which the species is predisposed. In 
 the case of man the mode of life is on the whole deter- 
 mined by the nature of the historical unity from which 
 the individual evolves as a member. Here the objective 
 content of life, after which the will strives, also enters into 
 consciousness with the progressive evolution of presenta- 
 tion ; the type of life becomes a conscious ideal of life. 
 The will is directed upon some particular objective form of 
 existence and activity ; it is attracted by the life of the 
 warrior, of the investigator, of the saint, of the wife and 
 mother, of the sister of charity ; and room is left for indi- 
 vidual differences. The realization of the goal is followed 
 by satisfaction ; discontent and inner discord follow failure. 
 The problem of ethics, therefore, is to set forth in gen- 
 eral outlines the form of life for which human nature is 
 predisposed. Of course, ethics cannot give a concrete 
 exposition of the content of life or of the ideal desired by 
 the individual ; that is the business of creative nature and in 
 a certain sense of art. Science confines itself to describing 
 the general forms within which alone a perfect human life is 
 possible, one that realizes and permanently satisfies the 
 human will. This task is performed in the doctrine of vir- 
 tues and duties, the concrete form of which is determined by 
 
424 APPENDIX. 
 
 people and times. Hence ethics is related to life as gram- 
 mar is to language, sesthetics to art, dietetics to bodily life ; 
 it outlines the form of the possible and the allowable, and 
 these forms may be filled with different contents. The per- 
 fect is like the beautiful, not a uniform type; it consists of 
 an infinite variety of individual creations. Ethics will ex- 
 plain moral evil or the bad as medicinal dietetics explains 
 disturbances, weaknesses, and malformations. The latter 
 occurrences are regarded as the results of external obstruc- 
 tions and disturbances, that are contrary to the tendency of 
 the disposition to develop normally. Similarly, ethics will 
 refer the evil and the bad, not to the real volition of the be- 
 ing itself, which is to be regarded as tending to develop nor- 
 mally and to make for human perfection, but to unfavora- 
 ble conditions of development, in consequence of which the 
 predisposition is dwarfed and deformed. That evil is really 
 contrary to the real nature of the will, that the desire of the 
 bad man to do the will of God is essential to his being, is 
 proved by the fact, ethics will add, that wickedness is in- 
 variably accompanied by inward dissatisfaction. This is 
 the reaction of the fundamental will against particular 
 momentary desires or against hypertrophically developed 
 impulses, which coerce it, as it were. The dietetic method 
 to be pursued is thereby prescribed : unfavorable condi- 
 tions which occasioned such deformities must be removed 
 and the original purpose of the will strengthened by re- 
 moving excrescences and otherwise encouraging it. 
 
 We now turn to the opposition existing between teleo- 
 logical and formalistic moral philosophy. The former view 
 is common to Greek philosophy. The Greeks are agreed 
 that all distinctions regarding the worth of moral modes of 
 conduct ultimately depend on the different effects which 
 the different modes of conduct tend to produce ; all of 
 them explain ethics as the science of the highest good, 
 which they all define as eudaemonism. The other theory 
 is more acceptable to the moral philosophy favored hj 
 Christianity : Good and evil are determined, not by re- 
 ferring the act to an end, but by measuring it by an 
 absolutely valid law, the law of God, which the church 
 teaches. The first epoch of modern philosophy returns to 
 
TEE PROBLEMS OF ETHICS. 425 
 
 the teleological mode of treatment. We discover it in 
 Spinoza and Wolff, in Shaftesbury and Hume. With Kant 
 a strong reaction begins against " eudsemonistic " ethics in 
 favor of formalistic ethics, the after-effects of which are 
 felt in German philosophy to this day. Indeed, there is 
 something very convincing about formalistic moral philos- 
 ophy : an act is good or bad, not because of its effects ; it 
 is good or bad in and for itself. Falsehood and deceit are 
 bad in themselves, without regard to their effects, and so 
 too honesty and self-control are good in themselves. Or 
 in Kant's words : A good will is the only thing that is good 
 in and for itself ; it has absolute worth, wholly regardless 
 of what it accomplishes and how it succeeds in the world. 
 There is some truth in the assertion, but we cannot stop 
 here. The statement is made : It is right to act justly and 
 wrong to act unjustly, regardless of the real effects of the 
 act ; the disposition and not the effect, which is always un- 
 certain, decides. To be sure, we shall say, the disposition 
 which prompted a particular act alone decides its moral 
 worth. But could we speak of justice and injustice at all 
 if the actions of men had and could have no effects what- 
 ever upon the welfare of others ? Apparently not. Then 
 can the value of conduct be wholly and in every respect 
 independent of its effects ? Should we still call wrong- 
 doing bad and reprehensible even if, by virtue of its nature, 
 it never had harmful but only favorable influences upon 
 the welfare of all the parties concerned ? If it lay in the 
 nature of falsehood to promote the interest of the deceived 
 one and to gain confidence for the liar, would lying still be 
 bad ? Is this judgment like an axiomatic proposition, or 
 like a judgment of perception, for which no reason what- 
 ever can be assigned ? Or can a reason be assigned why 
 it is better to be moderate and prudent, just and truthful, 
 peaceful and benevolent, than the opposite ? 
 
 I believe that there is a reason, a reason which the 
 experience of all nations sets forth in thousands of pro- 
 verbs : Falsehood, injustice, and excess are ruinous ; they 
 are the bane of individuals as well as of nations. And, 
 conversely, justice and prudence are means of salvation. 
 Indeed, to grant that acts have effects on welfare and then 
 
426 APPENDIX. 
 
 to deny that such effects determine their value somewhat 
 resembles the teleophobia mentioned before, which says : 
 We see because we have eyes ; but we do not have eyes 
 that we may see. So, too, in this case : Virtues preserve 
 life, vices destroy it, but their moral worth does not de- 
 pend on this. 
 
 The problem of ethics consists in applying the teleo- 
 logical view in detail, and in showing how life, human- 
 mental life, is preserved and promoted by virtuous deeds, 
 but impeded and destroyed by vice. Honesty is good ; 
 theft in every shape and form is bad, for theft injures first 
 the life of the aggrieved person then also that of the 
 thief ; it deprives him of the blessings of labor, for thieves 
 do not work. Finally, it destroys the security of prop- 
 erty and hence the desire to acquire it ; for nations whose 
 property-rights are insecure become impoverished. Prop- 
 erty, however, is the fundamemtal condition of all higher 
 development in human-mental life. Thus veracity is good 
 and falsehood bad, because in addition to the disturbances 
 which it produces within the narrowest circles, the decep- 
 tion of the offended person, the isolation of the liar, it has 
 the secondary effect of destroying the confidence of men in 
 general. Confidence, however, is the fundamental condi- 
 tion of human social life, and without society there can be 
 no real human life. Similarly, adultery and licentious- 
 ness are reprehensible, because they ruin individuals and 
 tend to destroy healthy family life, the root of all healthy 
 human life ; and, conversely, to live a pure and chaste 
 life in word and in deed is good, because it preserves life 
 in the physical and spiritual sense. And so it is every- 
 where : certain modes of conduct are good in so far as 
 they have the tendency to preserve and to augment human 
 goods, others are reprehensible and bad, because they tend 
 to destroy the conditions of a wholesome, beautiful, and 
 spiritual human life. In so far now as welfare is accom- 
 panied by feelings of satisfaction, decline and ruin, by feel- 
 ings of pain, we may also say : Virtue is the road to 
 happiness, vice to unhappiness. Pleasure, so Aristotle de- 
 clares, follows the realizatiom of the act as an unintended 
 secondary effect. 
 
TEE PROBLEMS OF ETHICS. 427 
 
 Let me add a few remarks in order to protect this view 
 against misunderstandings and objections. The confusion 
 which prevails here seems to me to be essentially due to 
 the fact that we do not distinguish between the dual judg- 
 ment to which every act gives rise : the subjective judg- 
 ment concerning the moral worth of the will, which is ex- 
 pressed in the act, and the objective judgment concerning 
 the worth of the act as such. The former considers the 
 disposition only : an act is morally good when it springs 
 from a good will, i.e., one determined by the consciousness 
 of duty, be its effects what they may. But ethics does not 
 deal solely and preferably with such judgments. To be 
 sure, it must say with Kant, and insist on it, that the moral 
 worth of a man does not depend on what he accomplishes 
 and how he succeeds in the world, but on the faithfulness 
 with which he does what he feels and recognizes to be his 
 duty. Its real business, however, is to ascertain the objec- 
 tive worth of acts and modes of conduct. And this is not 
 dependent on the disposition. The theft of Crispinus, to 
 use an old scholastic example, springs from a good will 
 and is in so far a good deed ; yet it is at the same time a 
 reprehensible mode of action, because theft as such, inde- 
 pendently of the intentions of the thief, undermines the in- 
 stitution of property. Moreover, the judgment of the dispo- 
 sition of the subject is ultimately based on teleological 
 considerations ; a good will is, in the last analysis, good 
 because it is good for something, because it tends to pro- 
 duce such behavior and action as has objective worth, i.e., 
 leads to the perfection of human life. 
 
 I further remark that the standard with which moral 
 philosophy measures the value of modes of conduct neither 
 is nor can be also the motive of action. The real motives 
 of action are inclinations, habits, principles, definite con- 
 crete aims, ideas of what is dutiful and proper. This is 
 and always will be the case. The general intention to pro- 
 mote the welfare of the human race will never become the 
 motive of conduct ; it cannot be, if only for the reason that 
 the welfare of the human race cannot be concretely pre- 
 sented to consciousness ; furthermore, because we can 
 never calculate the relation of the effects of a particular 
 
428 APPENDIX. 
 
 act to such an ultimate end. Every act has an infinite 
 number of effects ; even the direct effects which an act has 
 on the agent and his surroundings are incalculable, much 
 more so its indirect effects ; think of the effect of example, 
 habit, and heredity ! If, before reaching a decision, we 
 should have to figure out all the possible favorable and un- 
 favorable effects of a deed, we should never act. Hence 
 the process is abbreviated ; acts are as a rule automatic 
 reactions, which are released, without much calculation, by 
 circumstances, by the occasion. The factors just men- 
 tioned, inclinations and habits, customs and principles, 
 decide the form of the reaction. Hence the great impor- 
 tance to life of forming by practice the right automatic acts, 
 i.e., such as are on the whole teleological or make for wel- 
 fare. 
 
 And in this connection it is worthy of note that the col- 
 lective bodies of which individuals are the members, that 
 nations show the same immanent purposiveness common to 
 all organic beings and develop automatic forms of reaction for 
 the solution of certain problems of life. They create customs 
 (Sitten). By these we mean all such modes of action and 
 behavior as are binding upon the members of a people, in- 
 cluding the legal forms. The individuals are thereby re- 
 lieved of the impossible task of calculating the effects. 
 They now act as custom and law prescribe, and hence are 
 spared the uncertainty of the calculation before the act, as 
 well as the uncertainty appertaining to the effects following 
 the act. They have at all events acted as it behooves just 
 and " moral " men to act under such circumstances. As 
 instincts save animals the trouble of considering and calcu- 
 lating the acts that are useful and essential to the preser- 
 vation of life, so customs save man the same trouble. In 
 the former case, the inherited forms of reaction determine 
 the activity universally conducing to the preservation of 
 the individual and the species. In the latter case customs 
 (Sitten) which are based on inherited instincts and devel- 
 oped by education produce a similar result. There is as 
 little foreknowledge of the purposiveness of the customary 
 act in the one case as in the other. The natural man 
 knows the custom ; in this respect he is superior to the 
 
THE PROBLEMS OF ETHICS. 429 
 
 animal which knows nothing of the instinct ; but he does 
 not know why the custom is valid ; it exists in him as ob- 
 jective, not as subjective, reason. It is only on reflection, 
 which reaches its highest development in ethics, that the 
 teleological necessity of custom is understood. 
 
 From what has gone before we may determine the 
 nature of conscience. Conscience is originally nothing but 
 the knowledge of custom. The individual knows what 
 mode of behavior, e.g., towards the opposite sex, is enjoined 
 upon him by custom. From his earliest childhood it has 
 been impressed upon him b}^ his education, by the opinions 
 of society concerning what is decent and indecent, by laws 
 and punishments, finally by religious commandments, how 
 he ought to behave. He compares the reality with this obli- 
 gation, the norm which is always present and absolutely 
 binding ; it admonishes him, it impels him, it warns and 
 punishes. The obligation is not something foreign to his 
 own will ; he himself wills that the norm be valid, that 
 custom be obeyed ; he invariably demands that others do 
 so ; indeed it is his will that the community, the historical 
 organism to which he belongs, preserve itself and live. 
 Only accidentally and occasionally does a conflict occur 
 between the obligation and the momentary desire, the iso- 
 lated craving. True, it is then that we are most conscious 
 of the obligation, and hence it might appear as though the 
 opposition between duty and inclination were essential to 
 morality. 
 
 Conscience assumes another form on a higher stage of 
 development. Corresponding to the individualization of 
 mental life it here becomes an individual ideal of life, 
 which even antagonizes custom. That has happened in all 
 great reformations of moral-religious life, and there is no 
 conflict as hard and tragic as this : in battling for a higher 
 morality to oppose the popular morality of the times and 
 to be judged by it. Jesus and his disciples fought this 
 fight : custom and law, the temple and the sabbath, are not 
 the highest ; the kingdom of God is higher. And for that 
 reason the citizen of the kingdom of God rises above the 
 law. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 A. 
 
 Academy, 340. 
 
 Actio ad distans, 212 ff . 
 
 Activities, 354 ff. 
 
 Agnostic monism, 48, 60. 
 
 Agrippa of Nettesheim, 107 note. 
 
 Albertus Magnus, 31. 
 
 Analysis and synthesis, 411 ff. 
 
 Analytical judgments, 399. 
 
 Anaxagoras, his teleology, 154 ff. 
 
 Ancestor-worship, 267 f., 274. 
 
 Animism. See Fetishism. 
 
 .Anthropomorphic theism, 149 ff., 
 160, 207, 218, 291 f. See also The- 
 ism. 
 
 Anthropomorphism, 226,255 ff., 258, 
 270 ff., 273 f., 276. 
 
 A posteriori knowledge, 391, 416. 
 
 A priori knowledge, 16, 380, 389 ff., 
 398 ff., 413 f., 416. 
 
 Aristippus, 422. 
 
 Aristotle, 6, 22, 31, 41, 45, 56, 101, 
 106, 1541, 209, 219 f., 232, 235, 
 314, 339, 360, 363, 381, 410, 422, 
 426 ; his definition of philosophy, 
 17, 22 ; his idealism, 93 ; his on- 
 tology, 56 ; his teleology, 154 f. ; 
 his theology, 28 f . 
 
 Association, 218 f., 376, 410 f. 
 
 Astral souls, 106. 
 
 Atheism, 14, 246 f., 292 f., 305 f. 
 
 Atom, 131 f., 208 ff. 
 
 Atomism, 48, 149 ff. ; ancient, 339 ; 
 critique of, 207 ff. 
 
 Augustine, 249, 289, 313. 
 
 Automatic movements, 89, 190. 
 
 Automaton, 96. 
 
 B. 
 
 Bacon, Francis, 157, 416 f . ; his con- 
 ception of philosophy, 23. 
 
 Baer, K. E. v., 218 note, 222, 225, 
 229 
 
 Belief in God, 158 ff. ; origin of, 
 273 ff. 
 
 Bender, W., 251 note. 
 
 Beneke, 60. 
 
 Bentham, 422. 
 
 Berkeley, 390 ; his idealism, 60 ; on 
 
 perception, 348. 
 Böhme, J., 265. 
 Bopp, 196. 
 Brahman, 284 f. 
 Brain, 63 ff., 84 f., 134. 
 Bruchmann, 198. 
 Bruno, 5, 235. 
 Büchner, L., 67 note, 80 f., 86, 100, 
 
 266, 324. 
 Buddhism, 177. 
 Bunsen, 320 note. 
 
 C. 
 
 Cartesians, 96, 143. 
 
 Categories, 322, 351, 394 ff., 400 ff., 
 413 f. 
 
 Causality, 145, 205, 211 ff., 351, 387 
 f , 390, 394 ff., 402 ff. ; develop- 
 ment of, in man, 408 ff. ; and fi- 
 nality, 218 ff. 
 
 Choice, 115. 
 
 Christianity, 7, 15, 177 f., 247 ff., 
 261, 287 f., 326 ff., 424 ; its teleol- 
 ogy of history, 178. 
 
 Church, relation of, to philosophy 
 and science, 7, 13, 159. 
 
 Common-sense, its ontology, 53 f. ; 
 its conception of soul, 53 f., 357 
 f., 364 ; and idealism, 111. 
 
 Comte, 13, 27, 267, 315 f., 332, 340. 
 
 Concept, 415. 
 
 Conception and understanding, 373 f . 
 
 Conceptual thinking, 411, 416 f. 
 
 Conscience, 202, 419, 421, 429. 
 
 Consciousness, 61 ff., 120 ff., 127, 
 140 ff., 359 ; evolution of, 119 f. ; 
 explanation of, 79 ; relation of 
 soul to, 120 ff. 
 
 Contradiction, law of, 215, 384, 387. 
 
 Copernicus, 417 ; and Kant, 396 f . 
 
 Cosmic organization, 147 f . 
 
 431 
 
432 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Cosmological arguments, 296 ff. 
 Cosmology, 48 f., 65 f., 145 ff., 147 
 f. ; historical evolution of, 266 ff. 
 Creation, 292. 
 Criticism, 340. 
 
 Critique of Pure Reason, 390. 
 Customs, 190, 202 f., 428. 
 Cuvier, 153. 
 
 D. 
 
 Darwin, Charles, 36, 158 f.; and 
 atomistic materialism, 207 f . ; his 
 theory of evolution, 182 ff.; and 
 religion, 159 ff. 
 
 Deism, 303, 330. 
 
 Democritus, 21, 31, 55, 74, 280, 379 ; 
 his atomism and mechanism, 156. 
 
 Descartes, 5 f., 23 f., 57, 128, 134, 
 157, 290, 340, 346, 379, 386, 410 ; 
 his doctrine of innate ideas, 382 ; 
 his concept of matter, 101 ; his 
 ontology, 55 ; his mathematical 
 rationalism, 382 f.; his concept 
 of substance, 355. 
 
 Design, 158 ff., 192, 205 f., 207, 218, 
 222, 226, 291 f., 304. 
 
 Determinism, 221, 295. 
 
 Dogmas, 13, 248 f . 
 
 Döring, 17, 19. 
 
 Doubt, 6. 
 
 Dualism, 47, 54 f., 57. 
 
 Dubois-Reymond, 79, 87 note, 104, 
 235, 237 note ; his critique of ma- 
 terialism, 76 f.; and vital force, 
 
 104 f. 
 Diihring, 317 f. 
 Dysteleology, 167. 
 
 E. 
 
 Eleatics, 279. 339, 379. 
 
 Emotions, 194, 199 ff.; materialistic 
 
 view of, 82 f . ; religious, 327 ff . 
 Empedocles, 21, 102, 154, 156 ff.; 
 
 his doctrine of evolution, 154,156. 
 Empiricism, 49, 341 ff., 378, 380, 
 
 384 ff., 398ff.,414ff. 
 Ends, 165, 169 ff. 
 Energism, 50, 421 ff. 
 Engels, Fr., 318. 
 Entelechy, 220, 229, 233, 363. 
 Epicurus, 74, 280, 422 ; his atomism 
 
 and mechanism, 156. 
 Epistemology, 16, 42, 44, 49, 74 f., 
 
 105 f., 339 ff.; and materialism, 
 75 f. ; and metaphysics, 339 f . ; and 
 panpsychism, 105 f.; and philos- 
 ophy, 16 f. 
 
 Erdmann, 290 note. 
 
 Ethics, 44, 50, 69 ff., 421 ff.; and 
 philosophy, 17. 
 
 Eucken, 290 note. 
 
 Eudsemonism, 425. 
 
 Evil, 176 f., 242 f., 262 ff., 264 f., 
 324 ff. 
 
 Evolution, theory of, 180 ff.; and 
 atomistic materialism, 207 f. 
 
 Experience, 378 f., 385 ff., 393 ff., 
 403 ff., 417. 
 
 Explanation, mechanical, of nature, 
 57, 156 f., 161 ff., 304 ; metaphysi- 
 cal, 161 ff. ; natural-scientific, 61 
 f., 78 f., 161 f., 179, 229 ; teleo- 
 logical, 22y ff. 
 
 External world, 369 ff., 374 ff.; 
 our interpretation of, 371 ff.; 
 knowledge of, 369 ff.; origin of 
 belief in, 374 ff. 
 
 Eye, teleology of, 152. 
 
 Faith, 4, 8 f., 244 ff., 313 ff. ; and 
 Christianity, 247 f. ; and knowl- 
 edge, 11 ff., 245 ff., 300 f., 313 ff. 
 
 Falckenberg, 290 note. 
 
 Fechner, 2, 37, 52, 87, 91. 93 f., 107, 
 109 f., 128, 137, 188, 238 f., 243, 
 309 f., 356 note, 363 ; his panpsy- 
 chism, 93, 96 ff., 102, 107 ff.; his 
 parallelism, 87 note, 91 ; and 
 Schopenhauer, 94 note ; his view 
 of evolution, 188 ; his world-soul, 
 238 f. 
 
 Feder, 302 note. 
 
 Fetishism, 267 ff., 271 ff. 
 
 Feuerbach, L., 266, 273, 311, 316 f. ; 
 his theory of religion, 273 ff. 
 
 Fichte, J. G., 5, 29, 261 note, 314, 
 351 f . ; his concept of substance, 
 363 ; his critique of natural theol- 
 ogy, 305 f. 
 
 Finality, 218 ff . 
 
 Fischer, K., 16. 
 
 Flourens, 137. 
 
 Force, 210 ff., concept of, 356 note. 
 
 Formalistic ethics, 50, 422, 424 ff. 
 
 Freedom, 233 ; and causality, 221. 
 
 Fries, his critique of Kant, 401. 
 
 Gabelentz, v. d., 198. 
 
 Galileo, 5, 417 ; his conception of 
 
 motion, 57. 
 Generatio aequivoca, 199, 202. 
 Geology, 181, 192. 
 Gestures, 194, 201. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 433 
 
 God, attributes of, 252 ff.; relation 
 
 of, to man, 257 ff. 
 Goethe, 10, 14, 44, 106 note, 181, 
 
 187, 226, 255, 262, 303 f., 312, 
 
 328 f. 
 Gods, 267 ff.; nature of, 270 ff., 276. 
 Gottsched, 304. 
 Greek philosophy, 5, 20 ff., 31, 55 
 
 ff., 154 ff., 235, 279 ff., 339 f., 344, 
 
 378 ff., 422, 424. 
 Grimm, 196. 
 Gruber, 332 note. 
 Guenther, S., 379 note. 
 
 H. 
 
 Haeckel, 95 note, 100, 187. 
 
 Hand, the, 200, 412 f. 
 
 Harmony, Leibniz's pre-established, 
 215, 294. 
 
 Harms, 18 note. 
 
 Harnack, 289. 
 
 Hartmann, v., 120 note, 164 f.; his 
 view of physics and metaphysics, 
 164 note. 
 
 Hedonism, 50, 421 ff . 
 
 Hegel, 2, 29, 267, 307 f., 314 f., 319, 
 381 ; his idealism, 60 ; his panthe- 
 ism, 307 ff. 
 
 Helmholtz, 356 note. 
 
 Henotheism, 272. 
 
 Heraclitus, 21, 379, 419. 
 
 Herbart, 98 f., 112 f., 130 f., 134, 
 136, 348, 356 f. ; his intellectual- 
 istic psychology, 112 ff. 
 
 Herder, 303 f. 
 
 Heredity, 189, 191. 
 
 Herodotus, 20, 278. 
 
 Hindoos, 284 ; religion of, 272 ; the- 
 ology and cosmology of, 284 f. 
 
 History, the philosophy of, 172 ff., 
 314 ff. ; teleology of, 172 ff. 
 
 Hobbes, 5, 24, 59, 273, 290, 293, 
 340, 346, 379, 382, 410, 422. 
 
 Höffding, 87 note. 
 
 Homer, 244, 272 note, 278. 
 
 Horace, 43 note. 
 
 Humboldt, A. v., 34. 
 
 Humboldt, W. v., 36, 196. 
 
 Hume, 11, 27, 221, 273, 298 ff., 340, 
 390 ff., 416, 425; his view of 
 causality, 214 f . , 387 f . ; his em- 
 piricism, 384 ff. ; versus Kant, 
 398 ff. ; his view of miracles, 389 ; 
 his critique of natural theology, 
 298 f . ; his skepticism, 342 f . ; his 
 critique of soul-substance, 362 ; 
 and teleology, 158. 
 
 Hylozoism, 100. 
 
 Idea, 35, 280 ff. ; 397 ; innate, 382, 
 386. 
 
 Idealism, 47 f., 49, 55, 92 f., Ill, 
 144, 314, 3411, 344 ff. 
 
 Idealization. 231. 
 
 Identity, 307. 
 
 Immanency, 256 f . 
 
 Immortality, 243, 297. 
 
 Influences and effluences, 211 ff. 
 
 Iniluxus physicus, 83, 87 note, 123, 
 215. 
 
 Inspiration, 250. 
 
 Intellectualism, 12, 112 f., 160, 313. 
 
 Intellectus archetypus, 351, 397. 
 
 Intelligence, 111 ff., 179, 205; ani- 
 mal, human, and divine, 397 f. ; of 
 God, 253 f., 397 f. ; origin of, 
 205 ; relation of, to will, 112 ff. 
 
 Interaction, 83 f., 84 f., 87 note, 
 210 ff. 
 
 Intuitional ethics, 50, 422. 
 
 Ionians, 339. 
 
 Isocrates, 20. 
 
 J. 
 
 Jacobi, 303. 
 Jean Paul, 312. 
 Jesus, 248 ff., 261, 287 f. 
 Jews, 175 f., 285 ff. 
 Jodl, 316 note. 
 
 K. 
 
 Kaftan, 323 note. 
 
 Kant, 5, 16, 27 f., 31, 35, 41, 44, 
 105, 128, 187, 210, 213 f., 242, 
 256, 296 ff., 302, 340 f., 367, 370, 
 374, 380, 414 ff., 425, 427; his 
 categories, 322, 351, 394 ff., 400 
 ff., 413 f. ; his doctrine of causal- 
 ity, 214 f., 351, 390, 394 ff.; and 
 Copernicus, 396 f. ; his destruc- 
 tion of dogmatism, 110 ; critique 
 of his epistemology, 398 ff. ; his 
 notion of experience, 393 ff. ; his 
 critique of Hume, 342 f. ; his 
 idealism, 60, 348 ff. ; his doctrine 
 of knowledge and faith, 11 f., 321 
 ff. ; his critique of materialism, 
 75 ; his phenomena and things-in- 
 themselves, 353 f . ; his primacy of 
 the will, 113 note ; his formalistic 
 rationalism, 389 ff. ; his doctrine 
 of space and time, 348 ff.; his 
 concept of substance, 363 ; his 
 critique of natural theology, 298 
 ff. 
 
434 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Knowledge, faith and, 245 ff., 300 
 f., 313 ff. ; nature of, 49, 341 f., 
 344 ff. ; origin of, 49, 341 f., 378 
 ff. See also Epistemology. 
 
 Krause, 316 note. 
 
 Lagarde, P. de, 333 note. 
 
 Lamarck, 164 note, 181. 
 
 Lange, C, 82 note. 
 
 Lange, F. A., 37, 60 note, 75, 166 
 note, 231, 310. 
 
 Language, 193 ff. ; origin of, 194 ff. 
 
 Law, 147 f., 202 f., 216 f., 376, 393, 
 403 f., 410 ; moral, 71 ff., 202 f., 
 251, 420, 422. 
 
 Lehrs, K., 279 note. 
 
 Leibniz, 5, 26, 48, 84, 146, 157, 221, 
 228 note, 265, 293 ff., 340, 348, 363, 
 379, 382, 395, 422 ; his doctrine 
 of causality, 215; his monism, 59 ; 
 his panpsychism, 93, 102; his par- 
 allelism, 87 note ; and Spinoza, 
 293 f. 
 
 Lessing, 303. 
 
 Life, origin of, 153 ff., 179 ff. 
 
 Lipps, 17. 
 
 Literalism, 251. 
 
 Localization of brain-functions, 
 135 f. 
 
 Locke, 5, 24 f., 157, 340, 346, 393, 
 395; his empiricism, 384 ff.; his 
 doctrine of innate ideas, 386 ; his 
 concept of substance, 358 note ; 
 his theology, 293 ff. 
 
 Lotze, 2, 37, 87 note, 134 f., 210 f., 
 215 ff., 309, 368, 418 note ; his 
 doctrine of causality, 215 f. ; his 
 theory of interaction, 210 ff.; his 
 panpsychism, 93, 102 ; his theory 
 of perception, 347 f . ; his concep- 
 tion of the soul, 363. 
 
 Lucretius, 223 note. 
 
 Luther, 13, 174, 249, 300 f. 
 
 Lyell, 181. 
 
 M. 
 
 Magic, 273, 275, 327. 
 
 Manichseism, 289. 
 
 Marx, K., 318. 
 
 Materialism, 47, 53, 55, 57, 60 ff 
 153 ff.; critique of, 74 ff., 234 f. 
 its philosophy of history, 316 f. 
 and morality, 69 ff . ; practical con- 
 sequences of, 67 ff. 
 
 Mathematical rationalism, 381 ff. 
 
 Mathematics, 342, 379, 382 ff., 390 
 f., 392, 396, 398 ff. 
 
 Matter, 131, 155 f., 282, 348; 
 Aristotle's concept of, 282 f.; 
 common-sense view of, 131 f.; 
 modern concept of, 101 f. ; scho- 
 lastic concept of, 101 ; and soul- 
 life, 100 ff. 
 
 Maudsley, 87 note ; his view of the 
 unconscious, 122 note. 
 
 Mechanism, and teleology, 226 ff. 
 
 Mediaeval philosophy, 23, 31, 40, 
 178, 300. 
 
 Melanchthon, 31. 
 
 Memory, 115, 142. 
 
 Metaphysics, 41, 43, 45 ff., 53 ff., 
 339 f., 384 ff., 399 ; Hume's repu- 
 diation of, 343 ; and morality, 69 
 f . ; and physics, 161 ff. ; possibility 
 of, 390 ff. 
 
 Meyer, L., 132 note. 
 
 Meynert, 76 ; his theory of localiza- 
 tion, 136 note. 
 
 Mill, James, 422. 
 
 Mill, J. S., 13, 122 note, 266, 369 f., 
 376, 416 ; his definition of body, 
 369. 
 
 Mimicry, 186. 
 
 Miracles, 259 ff., 297 f., 389, 404. 
 
 Modern philosophy, 7, 23, 156 f., 
 290 ff., 340, 379. 
 
 Moebius, 410. 
 
 Monadology, 48. 
 
 Monads, 59, 215, 233, 293 f. 
 
 Monism, 47 f., 55, 58 ff.; idealistic, 
 266. 
 
 Monotheism, 217, 266 ff., 277 f.- 
 Christian, 287 f . ; Jewish, 285 ff. ; 
 Greek and Jewish -Christian, 288 ff. 
 
 Morality, subjective and objective, 
 427. 
 
 Moral law, 71 ff., 202 f., 251, 420, 
 422. 
 
 Moral order, 246 f., 321 ff., 420. 
 
 Motion, 211 ff. 
 
 Motives, 422 ff., 427 f. 
 
 Müller, J., 279 note. 
 
 Müller, M., 202 note, 271 ff., 276 f., 
 285 note. 
 
 Mundus, intelligibilis, 236, 242, 280; 
 sensibilis, 217. 
 
 Mysticism, 289. 
 
 Mystics, 256, 289 f . 
 
 Mythology, 3 ff., 203 f. 
 
 K 
 
 Naegeli,239 ; his panpsychism, 102 f. 
 Natural selection, 182 ff. 
 Nature, mechanical explanation of, 
 57, 156 f., 161 ff., 304. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 435 
 
 Naturisin. See Fetishism. 
 
 Necessary truths, 388 f. 
 
 Necessity, 214, 222, 232 f., 295, 387 
 
 ff. ; logical and psychological, 364 
 
 ff. 
 Neokantianisrn, 340. 
 Neoplatonism, 289. 
 Newton, 25, 418. 
 Nihilism, 69 f. 
 Nordau, 67 note. 
 Notion, 415. See also Concept. 
 Noumenon, 217, 242. 2 
 
 O. 
 
 Occasionalism, 83 f., 215. 
 Oken, 181. 
 
 Ontological argument, 299. 
 Ontology, 46 ff., 53 ff. 
 Organization, 147 f . 
 
 P. 
 
 Palaeontology, 181, 191. 
 
 Pale} r 's evidences, 159. 
 
 Panpsychism, 91 ff., 131 ; argu- 
 ments for, 99 ff. 
 
 Pantheism, 48, 149, 207, 217, 266 ; 
 and evil, 262 ff . ; history of, 279 
 ff.; and personality of God, 252 
 ff. ; relation of, to religion, 243 ff. ; 
 and world-soul, 232 ff. 
 
 Paracelsus, 107 note. 
 
 Parallelism, 83 ff., 133, 227, 384 ; 
 consequences of, 87 ff. ; universal, 
 91 ff. 
 
 Paulsen, 20 note, 325 note, 378 note, 
 421 note. 
 
 Perception, 344 ff., 369 f., 417 ff.; 
 of space, 348 ff., 402 f.; of time, 
 348 ff., 367 f. 
 
 Personality, 252 ff. 
 
 Personification, 270 f. 
 
 Peschel, 64 note ; his theory of 
 religion, 273 ff . 
 
 Pfleiderer, O., 271 note, 290 note. 
 
 Phenomena, 217, 363, 369 ff., 376 f. ; 
 and things-in-themselves, 353 f., 
 366 f. 
 
 Phenomenalism, 49, 341 f., 351, 
 
 390. 
 
 PhHology, 195 ff. 
 
 Philosophy, classification and fun- 
 damental problems of, 44 ff. ; 
 historical definitions of, 19 ff.; 
 nature and import* of, 1 ff. ; rela- 
 tion of, to mythology and religion, 
 3 ff. ,313 ff . ; relation of, to sciences, 
 15 ff. 
 
 Physico- theological arguments, 296, 
 299 
 
 Plants, soul-life of, 94 ff. 
 
 Plato, 21, 106, 111, 193, 235, 314, 
 328, 339, 344, f., 348, 364, 379 f., 
 417, 422 ; his idealism, 93, 280 ff. ; 
 his ontology, 55 ; his metaphysical 
 rationalism, 380 f . ; his teleology, 
 155. 
 
 Pleasure, 50, 171, 421 ff. 
 
 Polytheism, 267 ff., 277 ff., 292. 
 
 Popular philosophy and teleology, 
 157. 
 
 Positivism, 113 note, 310, 322, 340 ; 
 and metaphysics, 45 f.; its phi- 
 losophy of history, 315 f.; and 
 religion, 12 f. 
 
 Powers, 61 f., 354 ff., 383 note. 
 
 Practical reason, 321 f., 419 f. 
 
 Prayer, Christianity and ,261 ; efficacy 
 of, 259 ff . ; pantheism and, 259 f . 
 
 Presentation, 119 f. 
 
 Prolegomena, Kant's, 392. 
 
 Properties. See Powers. 
 
 Prophets, 285 ff . 
 
 Protestant theology, 300 f., 323 note; 
 and religion, 13 f. 
 
 Protista, 95 f., 139. 
 
 Protozoon, 190. 
 
 Psychology, intellectualistic, 112 ff.; 
 spiritualistic, 57 f . ; voluntaristic, 
 113 ff. 
 
 Purposive impulse, 189 f., 218, 220, 
 223, 225 f., 228, 233. 
 
 Pythagoras, 21 note, 35. 
 
 Q. 
 
 Qualities, 345 ff.; primary and 
 secondary, 346 ff . 
 
 R. 
 
 Radicalism, 14. 
 
 Rationalism, 49, 296, 341 f., 378 ff., 
 389 ff. 
 
 Rauwenhoff , 251 note. 
 
 Realism, 49, 341 f., 344 ff., 352 ff. 
 
 Reality, kinds of, 354 ff. 
 
 Reasoning, in animals and man, 410 
 ff. 
 
 Reciprocal action, 58, 145, 210 ff., 
 222, 232 f. 
 
 Reimarus, 165, 297. 
 
 Religion, 3 ff., 158 ff., 231 ; historical 
 development of, 267 ff. ; essence 
 of, 244 ff., 327 ff. ; historical, 329 
 ff . ; origin of, 273 ff . ; and pan- 
 theism, 243 ff.; relation of, to 
 philosophy and science, 3 ff., 1Ö& 
 
436 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 ff., 313 ff. ; primitive form of, 271 
 
 f. ; and will, 8, 245 f. 
 Renan, 13, 38 note, 330 f. 
 Mehl, A., 16 note, 378 note. 
 Rohde, 272 note. 
 Romanticism, 113 note. 
 Rousseau, 5, 113 note. 
 Rückert, 241. 
 
 S. 
 
 Savonarola, 249. 
 
 Schäme, 193. 
 
 Schelling, 29, 93, 181, 307, 309. 
 
 Schleicher, 43 note. 
 
 Schleiermacher, 244, 256, 306 f. 
 
 Schmidt, L., 278 note. 
 
 Schneider, G. EL, 113. 
 
 Schopenhauer, 37, 93 f., 116 ff., 
 228, 315, 348, 370 f.; and Fechner, 
 94 note ; his idealism, 60 ; his 
 critique of materialism, 75 ; his 
 panpsychism, 93 ; his conception 
 of physics and metaphysics, 163 
 f. ; his voluntaristic psychology, 
 113 ff. 
 
 Science, 15 ff., 61 f., 78 f., 161 f.; 
 methods of, 416 ff . ; origin of, 203 
 f., 410 ff. ; relation of, to percep- 
 tion, 418 ff., to philosophy, 15 ff., 
 to religion, 9 f., 313 ff. 
 
 Self-consciousness, 115, 143 ; unity 
 of, 359. 
 
 Sensation, 119, 140 f., 344 ff., 376, 
 414 f., 416 ff. ; physiology of, 345 f . 
 
 Sensualism. See Empiricism. 
 
 Shaftesbury, 422, 425. 
 
 Shamanism, 267 f., 275. 
 v Simplicius, 284. 
 ^Skepticism, 342 f., 352 f., 390, 392. 
 
 Social-democracy, 14, 317 ff. 
 
 Socrates, 5, 21, 156. 
 
 Solipsism, 352. 
 
 Solon, 20. 
 
 Sophists, 21, 340. 
 
 Soul, 53 f.; and consciousness, 120 
 ff. ; extent of soul-life, 92 ff . ; our 
 knowledge of, 354 ; matter and, 
 100 ff.; nature of, 111 ff., 366 ff . ; 
 powers of, 356 f . ; realistic concep- 
 tion of, 352 ff.; seat of, 132 ff. 
 
 Soul-substance, 128 ff . , 354 ff . , 357 ff . 
 
 Space, 348 ff., 394 f., 400 f., 403, 413. 
 
 Speculative philosophy, 1, 15, 28 f., 
 36, 163, 174, 235, 309 ff., 363, 381. 
 
 Speech, 116, 193 ff. 
 
 Spencer, H., 13, 27, 60, 87 note, 276 ; 
 his pantheism, 310 ; his theory of 
 religion, 274. 
 
 Spinoza, 5, 25 f., 89, 128, 160, 215, 
 217, 227, 232 f., 235, 252 f., 257, 
 259, 265, 273, 275, 303, 307, 340, 
 346, 348, 362, 367, 379 f., 410, 422, 
 425 ; versus design, 228 note ; and 
 Leibniz, 293 ff.; his panpsychism, 
 93, 102; his pantheism, 290 ff.; his 
 parallelism, 58 f., 86 note, 91 ; 
 his mathematical rationalism, 382, 
 384 ; versus teleology, 157. 
 
 Spiritism. See Fetishism. 
 
 Spiritualism. See Idealism. 
 
 State, 202 f. 
 
 Stein, L., 293 note. 
 
 Steinthal, 194 note. 
 
 Stoics, 283 f., 422. 
 
 Substance. 128 ff., 351, 354 ff., 394 f. 
 
 Symbolism, 255 f., 331. 
 
 Synthesis and analysis, 411 ff. 
 
 Synthetic judgments a priori, 343, 
 391, 399 ff. 
 
 Teleological ethics, 50, 422, 424 ff . 
 
 Teleology, 150 ff., 232 f., 298, 322 
 f. ; anthropocentric, 170, 172, 179 ; 
 and causality, 218 ff. ; and con- 
 sciousness, 224 ff.; critique of, 158 
 ff.; and Darwinism, 167 ; of his- 
 tory, 172 ff. ; and idealism, 160 f . ; 
 immanent. 170, 172, 184 ; of in 
 dividual life, 176 ff. ; and mech- 
 anism, 156 ff. ; of nature, 165 
 ff., 222 ff.; opposition to, 226 f.; 
 religion, theology, and, 158 ff. ; 
 and will, 224 ff. 
 
 Teleophobia, 218 note, 222. 
 
 Thales, 20, 35. 
 
 Theism, 48, 149 ff., 160, 207, 218, 
 288 ; and evil, 265 ; historical 
 evolution of, 266 ff. ; origin of, 
 273 ff.; and pantheism, 252 ff. 
 
 Theodicy, 247, 322, 324 f. 
 
 Theolog}', 13, 46 ; natural, 163, 296 
 ff., 301 1, 305 f.; and pantheism, 
 252 f.; Protestant, 323 note. 
 
 Things-in-themselves, 350, 353 f., 
 363, 370 ff., 377, 3901; Fichte's 
 rejection of, 351. 
 
 Thinking, 4, 15 f., 115, 119 f.; con- 
 ceptual, 411 ff., 416 f. 
 
 Thomas Aquinas, 31. 
 
 Thucydides, 20. 
 
 Tiedemann, 194 f. 
 
 Time, 348 ff. , 367 ff., 394 ff., 400 f., 
 413. 
 
 Transcendency, 256 f . , 284, 332. 
 
 Trendelenburg, 153, 156 f. 
 
 Tyndall, 77 note. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 437 
 
 U. 
 
 Ueberweg, 17, 20 note. 
 
 Unconscious, The, 120 ff., 140 ff,; 
 physiological explanation of, 121 
 ff. 
 
 Understanding, 120 ; and concep- 
 tion, 373 f. 
 
 Unity, 232 f . 
 
 Utilitarianism, 50, 422 ff . 
 
 V. 
 
 Values, 230 f., 322. 
 
 Vanini, 266. 
 
 Verworrn, 95 note, 139 note. 
 
 Vital feelings, 126, 140. 
 
 Vital force, 104. 
 
 Vogt, K. , 78, 81 note. 
 
 Volkelt, J., 46 note. 
 
 Volkmann, 98 note, 134 note. 
 
 Voltaire, 5, 158. 
 
 Voluntaristic psychology, 111 ff. 
 
 W. 
 
 Waitz, 268, 271. 
 Wallis, 25. 
 
 Wellhausen, 287 note. 
 
 Wieland, 301 f. 
 
 Will, 111 ff., 185 ff., 228, 321 ; rela- 
 tion of, to intelligence, 112 ff. 
 
 Windelband, 279 note. 
 
 Wissenschaftslehre, 314. 
 
 Wolff, C, 5, 11, 26, 31, 43, 422, 425. 
 
 Wonder, 155, 274. 
 
 World-brain, 237. 
 
 World-soul, 232 ff. , 
 
 World-weariness, 328 f. 
 
 Wundt, 37, 97, 120 note, 127, 128 ff., 
 137, 356 note ; his panpsychism, 
 102 ; his parallelism, 87 note; his 
 concept of soul, 363 ; his critique 
 of soul substance, 129 note ; his 
 theory of will, 113 note, 189 f. 
 
 X. 
 
 Xenophanes, 192. 
 
 Z. 
 
 Zeller, 20 note. 
 Zeno, 344, 379. 
 Zöllner, 1031, 21* 
 
 note. 
 
34/7 
 
 

 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: Sept. 2004 
 
 PreservationTechnoIogies 
 
 A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 
 
 1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
 Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
 (724)779-2111