" I am so convinced of a certain sacrifice of honour in thus placing it in pledge, that the very necessity of giving you this assurance seems to deprive me of a part of it myself; and the deep shame winch thus falls upon me is the reason why I cannot make an applica tion of this kind verbally, for I must have no witnesses of that shame. My honour seems to me really doubt ful until the engagement be fulfilled, because it is always possible for the other party to suppose that I may never fulfil it. Thus I know, that if you, sir, F 2 •54 MEMOIR OF FICHTE, should consent to my request, I would think of you. with heartfelt respect and gratitude indeed, but yet with a kind of shame; and that only after I had re deemed my word would it be possible for me to call to mind with perfect satisfaction an acquaintance with which I hope to be honoured during life. I know that these feelings arise from temperament, not from principle, and are perhaps reprehensible; but I cannot eradicate them until principle has acquired sufficient strength to take their place, and so render them super fluous. Thus far, however, I can rely upon my princi ples, that, were I capable of forfeiting my word pledged to you, I should despise myself for ever afterwards, and could never again venture to cast a glance into my own soul; — principles which constantly reminded me of you, and of my own dishonour, must needs be cast aside altogether, in order to free me from the most painful self-reproach.
" If I were well assured of the existence of such a mode of thinking as this in a man, I would do that for him with confidence which I now ask from you. How, and by what means, I could assure myself, were I in your place, of the existence of such principles, is likewise clear to me.
"If it be permitted me to compare very great things with very small, I argue from your writings, most honoured sir, a character in their author above the ordinary mass of men, and, before I knew anything at all of your mode of acting in common life, I would have ventured to describe it as I now know it to be. For myself, I have only laid open before you a small part of my nature, at a time however when the idea never occurred to me of making such a use of your LETTER TO KANT. 55 acquaintance, and my character is not sufficiently formed to express itself fully; — but to compensate for this, you are without comparison a better judge of men than I am, and perhaps may have perceived, even from the little you have seen of me, whether or not a love of truth and honour belongs to my character.
" Lastly, — and I add this with shame, — if I should be found capable of forfeiting my pledge, my worldly reputation is in your hands. It is my intention to become an author in my own name, and when I leave Konigsberg, I wish to request from you introductions to some literary men of your acquaintance. To these, whose good opinion I would then owe to you, it would be your duty to communicate my disgrace; as it would generally Be a duty, I think, to warn the world against a person of such incorrigible character as he must needs be who could approach a man whose atmosphere is untainted by falsehood, and, by assuming the out ward mien of honesty, deceive his acuteness, and so laugh to scorn ah1 virtue and honour.
" These were the considerations, sir, which induced me to write this letter. I am very indifferent about that which does not lie within my power, more indeed through temperament and personal experience, than on principle. It is not the first time that I have been in difficulties out of which I could see no way; but it would be the first time that I remained in them, if I did so now. Curiosity as to what is to come of it, is generally all that I feel in such emergencies. I merely adopt the means which appear the best to my mind, and then calmly await the consequence. And I can do this the more easily in the present case, that I place it in the hands of a good and wise man. But in another point of view I send off this letter with un wonted anxiety. Whatever may be your determina tion, I shall lose something of comfort and satisfaction in my relation towards you. If it be in the affirma tive, I can indeed again acquire what I have lost; — if in the negative, never.
****** " For the tone which predominates in this letter, I cannot, sir, ask your pardon. It is one of the distinc tions of sages, that he who speaks to them, speaks as a man to men. As soon as I can venture to hope that I do not disturb you, I shall wait upon you, to learn your resolution; and I am, with heartfelt reve rence and admiration," &c. &c. &c.
It is difficult to conceive of any circumstances short of absolute inability, which could induce a man of refined sentiments, and especially a scholar and a philo sopher, to refuse the request contained in this singular letter. We are not informed of the cause of Kant's refusal, and can therefore only hope that it arose from no motive less honourable than that which animated his noble-minded suitor. It is proper to state that Fichte continued, after this occurrence, to regard Kant with the same sentiments of deep admiration, and even reverence, which he had previously entertained towards him. But the request was refused, and Fichte once more reduced to extremity. He endeavoured to dis pose of the manuscript of his " Kritik aller Offenbarung;" — but Hartung, the bookseller to whom Kant recommended him to apply, was from home, and he offered it in vain to any other. The very heroism of " KRITIK ALLER OFFENBARUNG." 57 his life seemed to be the source of his ever-recurring difficulties; — and truly, he who has resolved to lead a life of high purpose and endeavour, must be content to relinquish the advantages which are the common reward of plodding worldliness or successful knavery. He does relinquish them without a murmur, or rather he never seeks them; — his thoughts aspire to a loftier recompense, and that he does surely attain.
But light once more dawned on these dark and hopeless prospects; and that from a quarter whence it was least of all expected. When the little money which he had remaining was almost entirely exhausted, he received an invitation, through the Court-preacher Schulz, to..a tutorship in the family of the Count of Krokow, in the neighbourhood of Dantzig. Although, as we have seen, his views were now directed to a life of literary exertion, yet necessity compelled him to accept this proposal; and he entered on his new em ployment, experiencing the most friendly reception and the kindest attentions. The amiable character and excellent abilities of the Countess rendered his resi dence in her family not only happy, but interesting and instructive; — his letters at this period are full of her praises. This fortunate appointment was but the beginning of many years of uninterrupted prosperity which now awaited him. Fortune seemed at last to have tired of her relentless persecutions, and now re solved to shine graciously upon his path.
Through the instrumentality of his friends at K6nigsberg he now made arrangements with Hartung for the publication of his " Kritik aller Offenbarung." An unexpected difficulty, however, prevented its immediate appearance. When the book was submitted to the censorship of the Dean of the Theological Fa culty at Halle, where it was to be printed, he refused his sanction on account of the principle contained in it, — That no proof of the divinity of a Revelation can be derived from an appeal to Miracles occurring in connexion with it, but that the question of its au thenticity can be decided only by an examination of its contents. Fichte urged that his book was a philo sophical, not a theological essay, and that therefore it did not properly come under the cognizance of the Theological Faculty; but this plea was urged in vain. His friends advised him to withdraw the obnoxious passages; even Schulz, who united theological ortho doxy with his ardent Kantism, advised him to do so.
But on this point Fichte was inflexible; he determined that the book should be printed entire, or not printed at ah1. He resolved, however, to consult Kant on the subject, as the highest authority to whom he could appeal. As this question has now begun to excite some interest in the philosopbico-theological world of England and America, it is deemed advisable to insert here the gist of this correspondence, embodying as it does the views of two most eminent men, who, both by their mental endowments and by their po sition in life, were better qualified than most other men to give an impartial judgment on the matter at issue.
" A friend whom I respect has written to me a kind and touching letter upon this subject, in which he GROUNDS OF BELIEF IN REVELATION. 59 requests that, in the event of a possible revision of the work during the delay which has occurred in printing, I should endeavour to set two points, upon which we are at issue, in another light. I have said, that faith in a given Revelation cannot reasonably be founded upon belief in Miracles, because no miracle is demonstrable as such; but I have added in a note, that it may be allowable to employ the idea of Miracles having occurred in connexion with a Revelation, in order to direct the attention of those who need the aid of outward and sensible manifestations to the other sufficient grounds upon which the Revelation may be received as divine; — the only modification of the former principle which I can admit. I have said, further, that a Revelation cannot extend the materials either of our dogmatic or our moral knowledge; but I admit, that upon trans cendental objects, in the fact of whose existence we believe, but can know nothing whatever of the mode of that existence, it may furnish us with something in the room of experience, — something which, for those who so conceive of such matters, shall possess a sub jective truth, — which, however, is not to be received as a substantial addition to, but only as an embodied and formal manifestation of, those spiritual things possessed by us a priori. Notwithstanding continued reflection upon these points, I have hitherto discovered nothing which can justify me in altering my conclusions.
May I venture to ask you, sir, as the most competent judge, to tell me in two words, whether any other results upon these points are to be sought for, and if so, in what direction; — or if these are the only grounds on which a critique of the Revelation-idea can safely proceed? If you will favour me with these two words of reply, I shall make no use of them incon sistent with the deep respect I entertain for you. As to my friend's letter, I have already said in answer, that I do not cease to give my attention to the sub ject, and shall always be ready to retract what I am convinced is erroneous.
" As to the prohibition of the censor, after the clearly -declared object of the essay, and the tone which predominates throughout its pages, I can only wonder at it. I cannot understand where the Theo logical Faculty acquired the right to apply their cen sorship to such a mode of treating such a subject."
" You desire to be informed by me whether any remedy can be found against the strict censorship under which your book has fallen, without entirely laying it aside. I answer, none; — so far as, without having read the book thoroughly, I can determine from what your letter announces as its leading princi ple, namely, — ' that faith in a given Revelation cannot reasonably be founded on a belief in Miracles.'
" For it inevitably follows from this, that a reli gion can contain only such articles of faith as likewise belong to the province of Pure Reason. This princi ple is in my opinion quite unobjectionable, and neither abolishes the subjective necessity of a Revelation, nor of Miracle, (for it may be assumed, that whether or not it might have been possible for Reason, unaided by Revelation, to have discovered those articles of faith, which, now when they are actually before us, may indeed be comprehended by Reason; — yet it may have FAITH IN REVELATION. 61 been necessary to introduce them "by Miracles, — which, however, now when religion can support it self and its articles, need no longer be relied upon as the foundation of belief): — but according to the maxims which seem to be adopted by the censor, this principle will not carry you through. For, according to these, certain writings must be received into the profession of faith according to their letter, since it is difficult for human understanding to comprehend them, and much more for human reason to conceive of them as true; and hence they really need the continued support of Miracle, and thus only can become arti cles of reasonable belief. The view which represents Rev elation ^ as merely a sensible manifestation of these principles in accommodation to human weakness, and hence as possessed of subjective truth only, is not sufficient for the censor, for his views demand the recognition of its objective truth according to the letter.
" One way however remains open, to bring your book into harmony with the ideas of the censor: z. e. if you can make him comprehend and approve the distinction between a dogmatic belief raised above all doubt, and a mere moral admission resting on the insufficiency of reason to satisfy its own wants; for then the faith which good moral sentiment reposes upon Miracle may probably thus express itself: ' Lord, I believe' — that is, I receive it willingly, although I cannot prove it sufficiently — ' help thou mine un belief!' — that is, ' I have a moral faith in respect of all that I can draw from the miraculous narrative for the purposes of inward improvement, and I desire to possess an historical belief in so far as that can con- G tribute to the same end. My unintentional non-belief is not confirmed unbelief.' But you will not easily make this distinction acceptable to a censor who, it is to be feared, makes historical belief an unconditional religious duty.
" With these hastily, but not inconsiderately thrown out ideas, you may do whatever seems good to you (provided you are yourself convinced of their truth), without making any direct or indirect allusion to him who communicates them."
.iFtcfite to Uant.
" Your kind letter has given me much gratification, as well because of the goodness which so soon fulfilled my request, as on account of the matter it contains: upon that subject I now feel all the peace of mind which, next to one's own conviction, the authority of a man who is honoured above all other men can give.
" If I have rightly conceived your meaning, I have actually pursued in my work the middle course which you point out, — of distinguishing between an affirma tive belief, and a faith founded on moral considerations. I have endeavoured carefully to distinguish between that which, according to my principle, is the only possible and reasonable kind of faith in the divinity of a given Revelation (that faith, namely, which has for its object only a certain form of the truths of re ligion) — and the belief which accepts these truths in themselves as postulates of Pure Reason. This faith is only a free acceptance of the divine origin of a parti- " KRITIK ALLER OFFEXBARUXG." 03 cular form of religious truth, grounded on experience of the efficacy of such a form as a means of moral perfection; — such an acceptance, indeed, as no one can prove either to himself or others, but which, on the other hand, cannot be refuted; an acceptance which is merely subjective, and, unlike the faith of Pure Reason, is not universally binding, since it is founded on individual experience alone. I believe that I have placed this distinction in a tolerably clear light, and I have endeavoured to set forth fully the practical consequences of these principles: namely, that while they save us the labour of enforcing our own subjec tive convictions upon others, they secure to every one the undisturbed possession of everything in reli gion which- he can apply to his own improvement, and thus silence the opponents of positive religion, not less than its dogmatical defenders, — principles for which I do not deserve the anger of the truth-loving theologian. But yet it has so fallen out; and I am now determined to leave the book as it is, and to allow the publisher to deal with the matter as he chooses."
The difficulty which gave rise to the preceding let ters was happily got rid of by a change in the censor ship. The new dean, Dr. Knapp, did not partake in the scruples of his predecessor, and he gave his con sent to the publication. The work appeared at Easter 1792, and excited great attention in the literary world of Germany. At first it was universally ascribed to Kant. The journals devoted to the Critical Philosophy teemed with laudatory notices, until at length Kant found it necessary publicly to disclaim the paternity of the book by disclosing its real author.
The " Kritik aller Offenbarung" is an attempt to determine the natural and necessary conditions, under which alone a Revelation from a superior intelligence to man is possible, and consequently to lay down the criteria by which anything that claims the character of such a Revelation is to be tested. The design, as well as the execution, of the work is strikingly charac teristic of its author; for, although the form of the Kantian philosophy is much more distinctly impressed upon this, his first literary production, than upon his subsequent writings, yet it does not and cannot conceal those brilliant qualities to which he owed his future fame. That profound and searching intellect, which, in the province of pure Metaphysics, cast aside as fallacious and deceptive those solid-seeming princi ples on which ordinary men are content to take their stand, and clearing its way to the most hidden depths of thought, sought there a firm foundation on which to build a structure of human knowledge, whose sum mit should tower as high above common faith as its base was sunk deep below common observation, — does here, when applied to a question of practical judgment, exhibit the same clearness of vision, strength of thought, and subtilty of discrimination. In the con duct of this inquiry, Fichte manifests that single eye to truth, and reverent devotion to her when found, which characterize all his writings and his life. His book has nothing in common with those superficial at tacks upon Revelation, or equally superficial defences of it, which are still so abundant, and which afford so much scope for petty personal animosities. The mathematician, while constructing his theorem, does not pause to inquire who may be interested in its " KRITIK ALLER OFFENBARUNG. 65 future applications; nor does the philosopher, while calmly settling the conditions and principles of know ledge, concern himself about what opiniom may ulti mately be found incompatible with them: — these may take care of themselves. Far above the dark vortex of theological strife in which punier intellects chafe and vex themselves in vain, Fichte struggles forward to the sunshine of pure thought, which sectarianism cannot see, because its weakened vision is already filled with a borrowed and imperfect light. " Form and style," he says in his preface, " are my affair; the censure or contempt which these may incur affects me alone; — and that is of little moment. The result is the affair of truth, and that is of moment. That must be subjected to a strict, but careful and impartial exa mination. I at least have acted impartially. I may have erred, and it would be astonishing if I had not. What measure of correction I may deserve, let the public decide. Every judgment, however expressed, I shall thankfully acknowledge; every objection which seems incompatible with the cause of truth, I shall meet as well as I can. To truth I solemnly devote myself, at this my first entrance into public life.
Without respect of party or of reputation, I shall al ways acknowledge that to be truth which I recognise as such, come whence it may; and never acknowledge that which I do not believe. The public will pardon me for having thus spoken of myself, on this first and only occasion. It may be of little importance to the world to receive this assurance, but it is of importance to me to call upon it to bear witness to this my solemn vow." — Never was vow more nobly fulfilled!
G -2 In the spring of 1793, Ficlite left Dantzig for Zurich, to accomplish the wish dearest to his heart. A part of Rahn's property had been saved from the wreck of his fortunes, and had been increased by the prudence and economy of his daughter. He was now anxious to see his children settled beside him, and to resume his personal intercourse with his destined son-in-law. It was arranged that wherever Fichte's abode might ultimately be fixed, the venerable old man should still enjoy the unremitting care and attention of his daughter. The following extracts are from a letter written shortly before Fichte's departure for Switzerland: — "Dantzig, 5tti March 1793.
" In June, or at the latest July, I shall be with thee: but I should wish to enter the walls of Zurich as thy husband: — Is that possible? Thy kind heart will give no hindrance to my wishes; but I do not know the circumstances. But I hope, and this hope comforts me much. - God! what happiness dost thou prepare for me, the unworthy! - 1 have never felt so deeply convinced that my existence is not to be in vain for the world, as when I read thy letter. What I receive in thee, I have not deserved; it can therefore be only a means of strengthening me for the labour and toil which yet await me. Let thy life but flow smoothly on, — thou sweet, dear one!
" Thou wilt fashion thyself by me! What I could perhaps give thee, thou dost not need; what thou canst bestow on me, I need much. Do thou, good, kind one, shed a lasting peace upon this tempestuous MARRIAGE WITH JOHANNA RAHN. 67 heart; pour gentle and winning mildness over my fiery zeal for the ennobling of my fellow-men. By thee will I fashion myself, till I can go forth again more usefully.
" I have great, glowing projects. My ambition (pride rather) thou canst understand. It is to pur chase my place in the human race with deeds, to bind up with my existence eternal consequences for hu manity and the whole spiritual world; no one need know that I do it, if only it be done. What I shall be in the civil world, I know not. If instead of im mediate activity I be destined to speech, my desire has already anticipated thy wish that it should be rather from a pulpit than from a chair. There is at present no want of prospects of that kind. Even from Saxony I receive most profitable invitations. I am about to go to Lubeck and Hamburg. In Dantzig they are unwilling to let me go. All that for the future! That I am not idle, I have shown by refusing, within this half year, many invitations which would have been very alluring to idlers. For the present I will be nothing but FicJite.
" I may perhaps desire an office in a few years. I hope it will not be wanting. Till then I can get what I require by my pen: at least, it has never failed me yet, in my many wanderings and sacrifices."
Fichte arrived in Zurich on the 16th day of June 1793, after having once more visited his parents, and received their entire approbation of his future plans. He was received with cordial welcome by a numerous circle of his former friends, who were well acquainted with his growing reputation and his prospects of future eminence. After a residence of a few months in the family of Rahn, — a delay rendered necessary by the laws of the state regarding foreigners, — his marriage with Johanna Rahn took place on the 22d of October at Baden, near Zurich. Lavater sent his congratu lations, after his friendly fashion, in the following lines: — an tf tcljteKafm untr an t*alJn~dF tcfjte.
".Kraft ttnb S5emutf) »ereint ttnrft me cergdngltdje Sreuben, 8ieb' im 2?imbe mit Cidjf erjeugt unfierHidje timber: Sreue ber SQ3aI)rI;etf bid;, fo oft bieg S?ldftdjen bu anMicf|V' After a short tour in Switzerland, in the course of which his already wide-spread fame brought him into contact with several distinguished men, — Baggesen, Festalozzi, &c., — Fichte took up his residence in the house of his father-in-law. Here he enjoyed for several months a life of undisturbed repose, in the society of her whose love had been his stay in times of adversity and doubt, and now gave to prosperity a keener relish and a holier aim.
But while happiness and security dwelt in the peace ful Swiss canton, the rest of Europe was torn asunder by that fearful convulsion which made the close of last century the most remarkable period in the history of the world. Principles which had once bound men together in bonds of truth and fealty had become false and hollow mockeries; and that evil time had arrived in which those who were nominally the leaders and rulers of the people had ceased to command their reverence and attachment; nay, by countless oppres sions and follies had become the objects of their bitter POLITICAL SPECULATIONS. 69 hatred and contempt. And now one nation speaks forth the word which all are struggling to utter, and soon every eye is turned upon France, — the theatre on which the new act in the drama of human history is to be acted; where freedom and right are once more to become realities; where man, no longer a mere appendage to the soil, is to start forth on a new career of activity and honour, and show the world the spec tacle of an ennobled and regenerated race. The en slaved of all nations rouse themselves at the shout of deliverance; the patriot's heart throbs higher at the cry; the poet dreams of a new golden age; the philosopher looks with eager eye for the solution of the mighty problem of human destiny. All, alas! are doomed to disappointment; and over the grave where their hopes lie buried, a lesson of fearful significance stands inscribed in characters of desolation _and blood, proclaiming to all ages that where the law of liberty is not written upon the soul, outward freedom is a mockery and unchecked power a curse.
In 1793 Fichte published his " Contributions to the correction of public opinion upon the French Revolu tion." The leading principle of this work is, that there is, and can be, no absolutely unchangeable political constitution, because none absolutely perfect can be realized; — the relatively best constitution must there fore carry within itself the principle of change and improvement. And if it be asked from whom this im provement should proceed, it is replied, that all parties to the political contract ought equally to possess this right. And by this political contract is to be understood, not any actual and recorded agreement, — for both the old and new opponents of this view think they can destroy it at once by the easy remark that we have no historical proof of the existence of such a contract,— but the abstract idea of a State, which, as the peculiar foundation of all rights, should lie at the bottom of every actual political fabric. The work comprises also an inquiry concerning the privileged classes in society, particularly the nobilty and clergy, whose prerogatives are subjected to a prolonged and rigid scrutiny. In particular, the conflict between the universal rights of reason, and historical privileges which often involve great injustice, is brought prominently into notice. This book brought upon Fichte the charge of being a democrat, which was afterwards extended into that of atheism! The following passage is from his own defence against the former charge, written at a lattter period: —