This Will unites me with himself; He also unites me with all finite beings like myself, and is the uni versal mediator between us all. This is the great mystery of the invisible world, and its fundamental law, in so far as it is a world or system of many indi vidual wills: — the union, and direct reciprocal action, of many separate and independent wills; a mystery which already lies clearly before every eye in the pre sent life, without attracting the notice of any one, or being regarded as in any way wonderful. The voice of conscience, which imposes on each his particular duty, is the light-beam on which we come forth from the bosom of the Infinite, and assume our place as particular individual beings; it fixes the limits of our personality; it is thus the true original element of our nature, the foundation and material of all our life.
The absolute freedom of the will, which we bring down with us from the Infinite into the world of Time, is the principle of this our life. I act: — and, the sensi ble intuition through which alone I become a personal intelligence being supposed, it is easy to conceive how I must necessarily know of this my action, — I know it, because it is I myself who act; — it is easy to con ceive how, by means of this sensible intuition, my spiritual act appears to me as a fact in a world of sense; and how, on the other hand, by the same sensualization, the law of duty which, in itself, is a purely spiritual law, should appear to me as the command to such an action; — it is easy to conceive, how an actually present world should appear to me as the condition of this action, and, in part, as the consequence and pro duct of it. Thus far I remain within myself and upon my own territory; everything here, which has an ex istence for me, unfolds itself purely and solely from myself; I see everywhere only myself, and no true existence out of myself. But in this my world I admit, also, the operations of other beings, separate and independent of me, as much as I of them. How these beings can themselves know of the influences which proceed from them, may easily be conceived; they know of them in the same way in which I know of my own. But how / can know of them is absolutely inconceivable; just as it is inconceivable how they can possess the knowledge of my existence, and its manifestations, which nevertheless I ascribe to them. How do they come within my world, or I within theirs, — since the principle by which the consciousness of ourselves, of our operations, and of their sensuous conditions, is unfolded from ourselves, — i. e. that each individual must undoubtedly know what he himself does, — is here wholly inapplicable? How have free spirits know ledge of free spirits, since we know that free spirits are the only reality, and that an independent world of sense, through which they might act on each other, is no longer to be thought of. Or shall it be said, I perceive reasonable beings like myself by the changes which they produce in the \vorld of sense? Then I ask again, — How dost thou perceive these changes? I comprehend very well how thou canst perceive changes which are brought about by the mere mechanism of nature; for the law of this mechanism is no other than the law of thy own thought, according to which, this world being once assumed, thou continuest to develope it. But the changes of which we now speak are not brought about by the mechanism of nature, but by a free will elevated above all nature; and only in so far as thou canst regard them in this character, canst thou infer from them the existence of free beings like thy self. Where then is the law within thyself, according to which thou canst unfold the determinations of other wills absolutely independent of thee? In short, this mutual recognition and reciprocal action of free beings in this world, is perfectly inexplicable by the laws of nature or of thought, and can only be explained through the One in whom they are united, although to each other they are separate; through the Infinite Will who sustains and embraces them all in His own sphere. Not immediately from thee to me, nor from me to thee, flows forth the knowledge which we have of each other; — we are separated by an insurmount able barrier. Only through the common fountain of our spiritual being do we know of each other; only in Him do we recognise each other, and influence each other. " Here reverence the image of freedom upon the earth; — here, a work which bears its impress:" — thus is it proclaimed within me by the voice of that Will, which speaks to me only in so far as it imposes duties upon me; — and the only principle through which I recognise thee and thy work, is the command of conscience to respect them.
Whence, then, our feelings, our sensible intuitions, our discursive laws of thought, on all which is founded the external world which we behold, in which we be lieve that we exert an influence on each other? With respect to the two last — our sensible intuitions and our laws of thought — to say, these are laws of reason in itself, is only to give no satisfactory answer at all. For us, indeed, who are excluded from the pure do main of reason in itself, it may be impossible to think otherwise, or to conceive of reason under any other law. But the true law of reason in itself is the prac tical law, the law of the super-sensual world, or of that sublime Will. And, leaving this for a moment undecided, whence comes our universal agreement as to feelings, which, nevertheless, are something positive, immediate, inexplicable? On this agreement in feeling, perception, and in the laws of thought, however, it depends that we all behold the same external world.
" It is a harmonious, although inconceivable, limi tation of the finite rational beings who compose our 3 A race; and only by means of such a harmonious limi tation do they become a race:" — thus answers the philosophy of mere knowledge, and here it must rest as its highest point. But what can set a limit to rea son but reason itself? — what can limit all finite reason but the Infinite Reason? This universal agreement concerning a sensible world, — assumed and accepted by us as the foundation of all our other life, and as the sphere of our duty — which, strictly considered, is just as incomprehensible as our unanimity concern ing the products of our reciprocal freedom, — this agreement is the result of the One Eternal Infinite Will. Our faith, of which we have spoken as faith in duty, is only faith in Him, in His reason, in His truth. What, then, is the peculiar and essential truth which we accept in the world of sense, and in which we believe? Only that from our faithful and impar tial performance of our duty in this world, there will arise to us throughout all eternity a life in which our freedom and morality shall prolong their activity. If this be true, then indeed is there truth in our world, and the only truth possible for finite beings; and it must be true, for this world is the result of the Eternal Will in us, — and that Will, by the law of His own being, can have no other purpose with respect to finite beings, than that which we have set forth.
That Eternal Will is thus assuredly the Creator of the World, in the only way in which He can be so, and in the only way in which it needs a creation: — in the finite reason. Those who regard Him as building up a world from an everlasting inert matter, which must still remain inert and lifeless, — like a vessel made by human hands, not an eternal procession of His selfdevelopment, — or who ascribe to Him the production of a material universe out of nothing, know neither the world nor Him. If matter only can be reality, then were the world indeed nothing, and throughout all eternity would remain nothing. Reason alone ex ists: — the Infinite in Himself, — the finite in Him and through Him. Only in our minds has He created a world; at least that from which we unfold it, and that by which we unfold it: — the voice of duty, and harmonious feelings, intuitions, and laws of thought. It is His light through which we behold the light, and all that it reveals to us. In our minds He still creates this world, and acts upon it by acting upon our minds through the call of duty, as soon as another free being changes aught therein. In our minds He upholds this world, and thereby the finite existence of which alone we are capable, by continually evolving from each state of our existence other states in succession. When He shall have sufficiently proved us according to His supreme designs, for our next succeeding vocation, and we shall have sufficiently cultivated ourselves for entering upon it, then, by that which we call death, will He annihilate for us this life, and introduce us to a new life, the product of our virtuous actions. All our life is His life. We are in His hand, and abide therein, and no one can pluck us out of His hand.
We are eternal, because He is eternal.
Sublime and Living Will! named by no name, compassed by no thought! I may well raise my soul to Thee, for Thou and I are not divided. Thy voice sounds within me, mine resounds in Thee; and all my thoughts, if they be but good and true, live in Thee also. In Thee, the Incomprehensible, I myself, and the world in which I live, become clearly compre hensible to me; all the secrets of my existence are laid open, and perfect harmony arises in my soul.
Thou art best known to the child -like, devoted, simple mind. To it Thou art the searcher of hearts, who seest its inmost depths; the ever-present true witness of its thoughts, who knowest its truth, who knowest it though all the world know it not. Thou art the Father who ever desirest its good, who rulest all things for the best. To Thy will it unhesitatingly resigns itself: " Do with me," it says, " what thou wilt; I know that it is good, for it is Thou who doest it." The inquisitive understanding, which has heard of Thee, but seen Thee not, would teach us thy nature; and, as Thy image, shows us a monstrous and in congruous shape, which the sagacious laugh at, and the wise and good abhor.
I hide my face before Thee, and lay my hand upon my mouth. How Thou art, and seemcst to Thine own being, I can never know, any more than I can assume Thy nature. After thousands upon thou sands of spirit-lives, I shall comprehend Thee as little as I do now in this earthly house. That which I conceive, becomes finite through my very conception of it; and this can never, even by endless exaltation, rise into the Infinite. Thou differest from men, not in degree but in nature. In every stage of their ad vancement they think of Thee as a greater man, and still a greater; but never as God — the Infinite, — whom no measure can mete. I have only this discursive, progressive thought, and I can conceive of no other: — how can I venture to ascribe it to Thee? In the Idea of person there are imperfections, limitations: — how can I clothe Thee with it without these?
I will not attempt that which the imperfection of my finite nature forbids, and which would be useless to me: — how Thou art, I may not know. But Thy relations to me — the mortal — and to all mortals, lie open before my eyes: — let me be what I ought to be, and they will surround me more clearly than the con sciousness of my own existence. Thou luorkest in me the knowledge of my duty, of my vocation in the world of reasonable beings: — how, I know not, nor need I to know. Thou knowest what I think and what 1 will: — hoiu Thou canst know, through what act thou bringest about that consciousness, I cannot understand, — nay, I know that the idea of an act, of a particular act of consciousness, belongs to me alone, and not to Thee, — the Infinite One. Thou wiliest that my free obedience shall bring with it eternal consequences: — the act of Thy will I cannot comprehend, I only know that it is not like mine. Thou doest, and Thy will itself is the deed; but the way of Thy working is not as my ways, — I cannot trace it. Thou livest and art, for Thou knowest and wiliest and workest, omnipresent to finite Reason; but Thou art not as I now and always must conceive of being.
In the contemplation of these Thy relations to me, the finite being, will I rest in calm blessedness. I know immediately only what I ought to do. This will I do, impartially, joyfully, and without cavilling or sophistry, for it is Thy voice which commands me to do it; it is the part assigned to me in the spiritual 3 A 2 World-plan; and the power with which I shall perform it is Thy power. Whatever is commanded by that voice, whatever executed by that power, is, in that plan, assuredly and truly good. I remain tranquil amid all the events of this world, for they are in Thy world. Nothing can perplex or surprise or dishearten me, as surely as Thou livest, and I can look upon Thy life.
For in Thee, and through Thee, 0 Infinite One! do I behold even my present world in another light. Na ture, and natural consequences, in the destinies and conduct of free beings, as opposed to Thee, become empty, unmeaning words. Nature is no longer; Thou, only Thou, art. It no longer appears to me to be the end and purpose of the present world to produce that state of universal peace among men, and of un limited dominion over the mechanism of nature, merely for its own sake; — but that it should be produced by man himself, — and, since it is expected from all, that it should be produced by all, as one great, free, moral, community. Nothing new and better for an individual shall be attainable, except through his own virtuous will; nothing new and better for a community, except through the common will being in accordance with duty: — this is a fundamental law of the great moral empire, of which the present life is a part. Thus is the good will of the individual so often lost to this world, because it is but the will of the individual, and the will of the majority is not in harmony with his; — and then its results are to be found solely in a future world.
Thus do even the passions and vices of men cooperate in the attainment of good, — not in and for themselves, for in this sense good can never come out of evil, — but by holding the balance against the opposite vices, and, at last, by their excess, annihilating these antagonists, and themselves with them. Oppression could never have gained the upper hand in human affairs, unless the cowardice, baseness, and mutual mistrust of men had smoothed the way to it. It will continue to in crease, until it extirpate cowardice and slavishness; and despair itself at last reawaken courage. Then shall the two opposite vices have annihilated each other, and the noblest of all human relations, lasting freedom, come forth from their antagonism.
The actions of free beings have, strictly considered, only results in other free beings; for in them, and for them alone, there is a world; and that in which they all agree, is itself the world. But they have these results only through the Infinite Will, — the medium through which all individual beings influence each other. But the announcement, the publication of this Will to us, is always a call to a particular duty. Thus even what we call evil in the world, the consequence of the abuse of freedom, exists only through Him; and it exists for those who experience it only in so far as, through it, duties are laid upon them. Were it not in the eternal plan of our moral culture, and the cul ture of our whole race, that precisely these duties should be laid upon us, they would not be so laid upon us; and that through \vhich they are laid upon us — i. e. what we call evil — would not have been pro duced. In so far, everything that is, is good, and absolutely legitimate. There is but one world pos sible, — a thoroughly good world. All that happens in this world is subservient to the improvement and culture of man, and, by means of this, to the promo tion of the purpose of his earthly existence. It is this higher World-plan which we call Nature, when we say, — Nature leads men through want to industry; through the evils of general disorder to a just con stitution; through the miseries of continual wars to endless peace on earth. Thy will, 0 Infinite One! thy Providence alone, is this higher Nature. This, too, is best understood by artless simplicity, when it regards this life as a place of trial and culture, as a school for eternity; when, in all the events of life, the most trivial as well as the most important, it beholds thy guiding Providence disposing all for the best; when it firmly believes that all things must work together for the good of those who love their duty, and who know Thee.
Oh! I have, indeed, dwelt in darkness during the past days of my life! I have indeed heaped error upon error, and imagined myself wise! Now, for the first time, do I wholly understand the doctrine which from thy lips, 0 Wonderful Spirit! seemed so strange to me, although my understanding had nothing to oppose to it; for now, for the first time, do I comprehend it in its whole compass, in its deepest foundations, and through all its consequences.
Man is not a product of the world of sense, and the end of his existence cannot be attained in it. His vocation transcends Time and Space, and everything that pertains to sense. What he is, and to what he is to train himself, that he must know; as his vocation is a lofty one, he must be able to raise his thoughts above all the limitations of sense. He must accomplish it: — where his being finds its home, there his thoughts, <— ' 7 O too, seek their dwelling-place; and the truly human mode of thought, that which alone is worthy of him, that in which his whole spiritual strength is mani fested, is that whereby he raises himself above those limitations, whereby all that pertains to sense vanishes into nothing, — into a mere reflection, in mortal eyes, the One, Self-existent Infinite.
Many have raised themselves to this mode of thought without scientific inquiry, merely by their nobleness of heart and their pure moral instinct, because their life has been preeminently one of feeling and senti ment. They have denied, by their conduct, the effi ciency and reality of the world of sense, and made it of no account in regulating their resolutions and their actions; whereby they have not indeed made it clear, by reasoning, that this world has no existence for the intellect. Those who could dare to say, " Our citizen ship is in heaven; we have here no continuing city, but we seek one to come;" — those whose chief prin ciple it was " to die to the world, to be born again, and already here below to enter upon a new life," — certainly set no value whatever on the things of sense, and were, to use the language of the schools, practical Transcendental Idealists.
Others, who, besides possessing the natural proneness to mere sensuous activity which is common to us all, have also added to its power by the adoption of similar habits of thought, until they have got wholly entangled in it, and it has grown with their growth, and strengthened with their strength, can raise themselves above it, permanently and completely, only by persevering and conclusive thought; other wise, with the purest moral intentions, they would be continually drawn down again by their understanding, and tbeir whole being would remain a prolonged and insoluble contradiction. For these, the philosophy which I now, for the first time, thoroughly under stand, will be the first power that shall set free the imprisoned Pysche and unfold her wings, so that, hovering for a moment above her former self, she may cast a glance on her abandoned slough, and then soar upwards, thenceforward to live and move in higher spheres.
Blessed be the hour in which I first resolved to in quire into myself and my vocation! All my doubts are solved; I know what I can know, and have no apprehensions regarding that which I cannot know. I am satisfied; perfect harmony and clearness reign in my soul, and a new and more glorious spiritual existence begins for me.
My entire complete vocation I cannot comprehend; what I shall be hereafter transcends all my thoughts. A part of that vocation is concealed from me; it is visible only to One, to the Father of Spirits, to whose care it is committed. I know only that it is sure, and that it is eternal and glorious like Himself. But that part of it which is confided to myself, I know, and know it thoroughly, for it is the root of all my other knowledge. I know assuredly, in every moment of my life, what I ought to do; and this is my whole vocation in so far as it depends on me. From this point, since my knowledge docs not reach beyond it, I shall not depart; I shall not desire to know aught beyond this; I shall take my stand upon this central point, and firmly root myself here. To this shall all my thoughts and endeavours, my whole powers, be directed; my whole existence shall be interwoven with it.
I ought, as far as in me lies, to cultivate my un derstanding and to acquire knowledge; — but only with the purpose of preparing thereby within me a larger field and wider sphere of duty. I ought to desire to have much; — in order that much may be required of me. I ought to exercise my powers and capacities in every possible way; — but only in order to render myself a more serviceable and fitting instrument of duty, for until the commandment shall have been realized in the outward world, by means of my whole personality, I am answerable for it to my conscience. I ought to exhibit in myself, as far as I am able, humanity in all its com pleteness; — not for the mere sake of humanity, which in itself has not the slightest worth, but in order that virtue, which alone has worth in itself, may be ex hibited, in its highest perfection, in human nature. I ought to regard myself, body and soul, with all that is in me or that belongs to me, only as a means of duty; and only be solicitous to fulfil that, and to make myself able to fulfil it, as far as in me lies. But when the commandment, — provided only that it shall have been in truth the commandment which I have obeyed, and I have been really conscious only of the pure, single intention of obeying it, — when the commandment shall have passed beyond my personal being to its realization in the outward world, then I have no more anxiety about it, for thenceforward it is committed into the hands of the Eternal Will. Farther care or anxiety would be but idle self-torment; would be unbelief and distrust of that Infinite Will. I shall never dream of governing the world in His stead; of listening to the voice of my own imperfect wisdom, instead of to His voice in my conscience; or of substituting the partial views of a short-sighted individual for His vast plan which embraces the universe. I know that thereby I should lose my own place in His order, and in the order of all spiritual being.
As with calmness and devotion I reverence this higher Providence, so in my actions ought I to reverence the freedom of other beings around me. The question for me is not what they, according to my conceptions, ought to do, but what I may venture to do in order to induce them to do it. I can only desire to act imme diately on their conviction and their will, as far as the order of society and their own consent will permit; but by no means, without their conviction and con sent, to influence their powers and relations. They do, what they do, on their own responsibility: with this 1 neither can nor dare intermeddle, and the Eternal Will will dispose all for the best. It concerns me more to respect their freedom, than to hinder or prevent what to me seems evil in its use.
In this point of view I become a new creature, and my whole relations to the existing world are changed. The ties by which my mind was formerly united to this world, and by whose secret guidance I followed all its movements, are for ever sundered, and I stand free, calm and immovable, a universe to myself. No longer through my affections, but by my eye alone, do I apprehend outward objects and am connected with them; and this eye itself is purified by freedom, and looks, through error and deformity, to the True and Beautiful, as upon the unruffled surface of water forms arc more purely mirrored in a milder light.
My mind is for ever closed against embarrassment and perplexity, against uncertainty, doubt, and anxiety; — my heart, against grief, repentance, and desire. There is but one thing that I may know, — namely, what I ought to do; and this I always know infallibly. Concerning all else I know nothing, and know that I know nothing. I firmly root myself in this my ignorance, and refrain from harassing myself with con jectures concerning that of which I know nothing. No occurrence in this world can affect me either with joy or sorrow; calm and unmoved I look down upon all things, for I know that I cannot explain a single event, nor comprehend its connexion with that which alone concerns me. All that happens belongs to the plan of the Eternal World, and is good in its place: thus much I know; — what in this plan is pure gain, what is only a means for the removal of some existing evil, what therefore ought to afford me more or less satisfaction, I know not. In His world all things prosper; — this satisfies me, and in this belief I stand fast as a rock: — but what in His world is merely the germ, what the blossom, and what the fruit itself, I know not.