the law which governs the super-sensual world. But the super-sensual world is a world of Freedom, of living activity; its principle cannot therefore be a me chanical force, but must itself possess this Freedom — this living activity. It can be nothing else than selfdetermining Reason. But self-determining Reason is Will. The law of the super-sensual world must thus be a Will: — a will operating without material implement or manifestation, which is in itself both act and pro duct, which is eternal and unchangeable, — so that on it finite beings may securely rely, as the physical man does on the laws of his world, that through it, all their moral acts of Will, and these only, shall lead to certain and unfailing results. In this Living Will, as the principle of the spiritual world, has our moral Will its first consequence, and through Him its energy is propagated throughout the series of finite beings who are the products of the Infinite Will. He is the spi ritual bond which unites all free beings together: — not immediately can they know or influence each other, for they are separated from each other by an impassable barrier; — their mutual knowledge comes through Him alone, to whom all are equally related. Our faith in duty, and in the objects of duty, is only faith in Him, in His wisdom, in His truth. He is thus the creator and sustainer of all things; for in Him alone all the thronging forms which people our dream of life " live and move and have their being." All partake His essence: — material nature disappears, but its images are invested with a new reality. All our life is His life; and we are eternal, for He is eternal. Birth and the grave are no more; but, in their stead, undying energy and immortal youth. Of him — the Infinite S8 MEMOIR OF FICHTE.
One, — of the mode of His being, we know nothing, nor need we to know; we cannot pierce the inaccessible light in which He dwells, but through the shadows which veil His presence from us, an endless stream of of life, power, and action flows around and about us, bearing us and all finite things onward to new life, love, and beauty.
" The ONE remains, the many change and pass; Heaven's light for ever shines, Earth's shadows fly; Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, Until Death tramples it to fragments."
All Death in nature is Birth, — the assumption of a new garment, to replace the old vesture which hu manity has laid aside in its progress to higher being. And serene above all change, the unattainable object of all finite eifort — fountain of our life — home of our spirits, — Thou art — the One Being, — the I AM, — for whom Reason has no idea, and Language no name.
" Sublime and living Will, named by no name, com passed 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 are but good and true, live in Thee also. In Thee, the Incomprehensible, I myself, and the world in which I live, become clearly comprehensible to me, all the secrets of my existence are laid open, and perfect harmony arises in my soul.
" Thou art best known to the childlike, 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 ABSOLUTE RELIGION.
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 dost 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 seemest 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 iu degree but in nature. In every stage of their advance ment 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, pro gressive 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 rela tions to me — the mortal — and to all mortals, lie open before my eyes, — were I but what I ought to be, — and surround me as clearly as the consciousness of my own existence. Thou workest in me the knowledge of my I 2 I 2 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 I will: — how 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 / now and always must conceive of being." * Such is a very broken and imperfect outline of the most complete system of Transcendental Idealism ever offered to the world. To those few among British students, who, amid the prevailing degradation of sentiment and frivolity of thought, have pondered the deep mysteries of being until the common logic, which pretends to grasp its secret, seems a vain and pre sumptuous trifling with questions which he far beyond its reach, and who find in the theological solution but a dry and worthless husk which conceals the kernel of truth it was only meant to preserve, — to such it may be no unacceptable service to have pointed the way to a modern Academe, where the moral dignity of the Athenian sage is united with the poetic sublimity and intellectual keenness of his two most distinguished " Bestimmung des Menschen," Book III.
INTERCOURSE WITH LAVATER, &C. 91 pupils. If by such bumble guidance any should be induced to turn aside towards that retreat, let them not be deterred if at first the path should seem to lack something of the smoothness of the well-trodden high way on which they have hitherto travelled; — let them proceed courageously; — it will lead them into calm sunshine, and beside clear and refreshing streams; — nor shall they return thence without nobler thoughts and higher aspirations.
Fichte lived in close retirement in Zurich. The manners of the inhabitants did not please him, and he seldom came out into society. His wife, his fatherin-law, Lavater, and a few others, composed his circle. Rahn enjoyed in no ordinary degree the society of his distinguished son-in-law; and it is pleasing to know that the celebrated and venerable preacher preserved, even in advanced age, a keen relish for new truth, a perfect openness of mind not frequently met with in his profession. At his request Fichte prepared a short course of lectures, by which his friends might be intro duced to an acquaintance with the Critical Philosophy, the fame of which had now reached Switzerland. At the conclusion of the lectures Lavater addressed a letter of thanks to his young instructor, full of the strongest expressions of gratitude and esteem, in which he styles himself his " pupil, friend, and fellow-man." Up to the period of his death, this excellent man retained the warmest feelings of friendship towards the philo sopher; — and the following lines, written some years after Fichte's departure from Zurich, whatever may be their value in other respects, serve at least to show the respect, almost approaching to reverence, with which Fichte was regarded by one who was himself no ordinary man: — ' ltnerrekf)barer Tenter, £cin £>afei)n fcenmtf mir ba§ Eafepn, (StneS eroigen ©eijleS, Dem Ijofje ©etficr enjha&Ien! .Ronntcjt je £u jweifetn: tcf) jMIte £tcf> fcfcjl »or £>t<fc felfcft nur; 3etgte Sir in Dir fettft ben @tra^I beg ewigen Although Fichte had as yet published nothing to which his name was attached, he had nevertheless acquired an extensive philosophical reputation. In several powerful and searching criticisms which ap peared in the " Allgemeine Literatur Zeitung," the hand of the author of the " Critique of Revelation" was discovered. He was now generally looked upon as the man who was destined to complete the philosophy of Kant, and was thus led into literary correspondence with some of the most distinguished men of the day. At the head of these must be placed Reinhold, the professor of philosophy at Jena, who had hitherto stood foremost among the disciples of Kant. The re lation between these two celebrated men was a most remarkable one. Although their characters were very different, although they never saw each other, they lived on terms of the most intimate and trustful con fidence, such as is commonly attained by long-tried friendship alone. In their extensive correspondence, Fichte's powerful and commanding intellect evidently possesses great ascendency over the more diffident and pliable nature of Ileinhold; but his influence never interferes with the mental freedom of his friend. On the other hand, Reinhold's open and enthusiastic cha racter, and his pure love of truth, engaged the warm LETTER FROM REINHOLD. 93 affection and sympathy of his more daring correspondent; — while the frequent misunderstandings which lend an almost dramatic interest to their letters, afford room for the exhibition of manly and generous kindness in both. In 1797 Reinhold abandoned his own system and accepted the " Wissenschaftslehre," announcing the change to Fichte in the following terms: — " I have at length come to understand your " Wiss enschaftslehre," or, what is the same thing to me — philosophy without nickname. It now stands before me as a perfect whole, founded on itself — the pure conception of self-conscious Reason, — the mirror of our better selves. Individual parts are still obscure to me, but they cannot now deprive me of my comprehension of the whole; and their number is every day diminish ing. Beside it lie the ruins of the edifice which cost me so much time and labour, in which I thought to dwell so securely and commodiously, to entertain so many guests, — in which I laughed, not without self-gratulation, over so many Kantists who mistook the scaffolding for the house itself. This catastrophe would have caused me much pain for a time, if it had happened by the hand of scepticism."
" Adieu! I salute you with deepest gratitude. Is personal intercourse absolutely necessary to the growth of friendship? I doubt it. For indeed it is not mere gratitude, not mere reverence, — it is heartfelt love that I feel for you, since I now, through your philo sophy, understand yourself."
In Fichte's literary correspondence while at Zurich we find the first intimations of his departure from the system of Kant, and his plan of a complete and comprehensive philosophy. He could not rest satisfied with results alone, unless he could perceive the grounds on which they rested. His reason imperatively de manded absolute unity of conception, without separa tion, without division, — above all, without opposition. Writing to ISiethammer in October 1793 he says — " My conviction is that Kant has only indicated the truth, but neither unfolded nor proved it. This singular man either has a power of divining truth, without being himself conscious of the grounds on which it rests; or he has not esteemed his age worthy of the communication of those grounds; or he has shrunk from attracting that superhuman reverence during his life, which sooner or later must be his in some degree." And as the great idea of his own system dawned upon his mind, he says to Stephani, — '• I have discovered a new principle, from which all philosophy can easily be deduced In a couple of years we shall have a philosophy with all the clearness of geometrical demonstration." — To the development of this scheme he devoted all the energies of his powerful intellect, during the leisure of his re tirement. He refused an invitation to become tutor to the Prince of Mecklenberg-Strelitz: — " I desire," he says, "nothing but leisure to execute my plan, — then fortune may do with me what it will."
But his studies were soon broken in upon by a call of another and more important nature. This was his appointment as Professor Supernumerarius of Philo sophy at the Univerity of Jena, in room of Reinhold, who removed to Kiel. The distinguished honour of this invitation, unasked and unexpected, and the ex tensive field of usefulness which it opened up to him.
INVITATION TO JENA. 95 determined Fichte at once to accept it. Unable, how ever, to satisfy himself that his views were as yet so fully matured and settled, as to justify him in entering at once on the important duties of a teacher, invested as these were to his mind with a peculiar sacredness and solemnity, he endeavoured to obtain a postpone ment of his inauguration which had been fixed for Easter 1794, in order that, by the more complete elaboration of the principle which he had discovered, he might be able to elevate his philosophy at once to the rank of positive science. For this purpose he requested a year's delay. But as it was considered that the interest of the University would be prejudiced by the chair remaining so long vacant, his request was refused,— with permission, however, to devote the greater part of his time, during the first year, to study. He therefore sent an unconditional acceptance,.and plunged at once into the most arduous preparation for his new duties.
Weimar and its neighbouring University was at this time the focus of German literature and learning. The Grand Duke Charles Augustus had gathered around him the most distinguished men of his age, and Wieland, Herder, Goethe, Schiller and Humboldt shed a more than Medicean lustre upon the little Saxon Court. Probably at no other period was so much high genius, engaged in every department of mental exertion, gathered together in one spot. The Uni versity, too, was the most numerously frequented of any in Germany, not by the youth of Saxony alone, but by students from almost every part of Europe: Switzerland, Denmark, Poland, Hungary, the Free Cities, and even France, sent their sons to Jena for education. The brilliant intellectual circle at Weimar presented to the cultivated mind attractions which could be found nowhere else, whilst at Jena the academic teacher found a most extensive and honourable field for the exercise of his powers. It was to this busy scene of mental activity that Fichte was called from his Swiss retreat, — to the society of the greatest living men, — to the instruction of this thronging crowd from all sur rounding nations. Previous to his own appearance, he published as a programme of his lectures, the " Bcgriff der Wissenschaftslehre, oder der Sogenannten Philo sophic." The high reputation he had already acquired, and the bold originality of his system, drew universal attention. Expectation was strained to the utmost; so that those who had marked the rapid growth of his fame had great apparent reason to fear that it might prove short-lived. But notwithstanding the shortness of the^ time allowed him for preparation, he entered upon his course with a clear perception of the task that lay before him, and confident reliance on his own power to fulfil the important duties to which he was called.
He arrived at Jena on the 18th of May 1794, and was received with great kindness by his colleagues at the University. On the 23d he delivered his first lecture. The largest hall in Jena, although crowded to the roof, proved insufficient to contain the audience. His singular and commanding address, his fervid, fiery eloquence, the rich profusion of his thoughts, following each other in the most convincing sequence and mo delled with the sharpest precision, astonished and de lighted his hearers. His triumph was complete; — he left the Hall the most popular Professor of the great- PROFESSORSHIP AT JENA. 97 est University in Germany. The following acute and graphic remarks on this subject, from Forberg's " Fragmenten aus meinen Papieren," afford us some glimpse of the opinions entertained of him by his contempo raries at Jena:— "Jena, 12th May 1794.
" I look with great confidence to Fichte, who is daily expected here. But I would have had still greater confidence in him if he had written the " Kritik der Offenbarung" twenty years later. A young man who ventures to write a masterpiece must commonly suffer for it. He is what he is, and he will not be what he might have been. He has spent his strength too soon, and his later fruits will at least want ripe ness. A great mind has no merit if it does not possess sufficient resignation not to appear great for a time, that thereby it may become greater. If a man cannot sacrifice a dozen years' fame as an offering to truth, what else can he lay upon her altar? I believe that Ileinhold's theory has done much injury to the study of the Kantian philosophy, but that is nothing to the injury it has done to the author himself. His philo sophy is finished for this world, — nothing more is to be expected from him but polemics and reminiscences. Fichte is not here yet, — but I am eager to know whether he has anything still to learn. It would be almost a wonder if he had, considering the incense that they burn before him. Oh! there is nothing so easily unlearned as the power of learning."
" Since Reinhold has left us, his philosophy (with us at least) has expired. Every trace of the " Philosophy without nickname" has vanished from among the students. Fichte is believed in, as Rcinhold never was believed in. They understand him indeed even less than they did his predecessor; but they believe all the more obstinately on that account. Ego and Non-Ego are now the symbols of the philosophers of yesterday, as substance and form were formerly.
" Fichte's philosophy is, so to speak, more philoso phical than Reinhold's. You hear him going digging and seeking after truth. In rough masses he brings it forth from the deep, and throws it from him. He does not say what he will do; he does it. Reinhold's doctrine was rather an announcement of a philosophy, than a philosophy itself. He has never fulfilled his promises. Not unfrequently did he give forth the promise for the fulfilment. He never will fulfil them, —for he is now past away. Fichte seems really de termined to work upon the world through his philo sophy. The tendency to restless activity which dwells in the breast of every noble youth he would carefully nourish and cultivate, that it may in due season bring forth fruit. He seizes every opportunity of teaching that action — action — is the vocation of man; whereby it is only to be feared that the majority of young men who lay the maxim to heart may look upon this sum mons to action as only a summons to demolition. And, strictly speaking, the principle is false. Man is not called upon to act, but to act justly; if he cannot act without acting unjustly, he had better remain inactive, " Every reader of Kant or Fichte is seized by a deep feeling of the superiority of these mighty minds; who wrestle with their subjects, as it were, to grind them to powder; who seem to say all that they do say to us, FICHTE AND REINHOLD. 99 only that we may conjecture how much more they could say.
" All the truth that J has written is not worth a tenth part of the false which Fichte may have writ ten. The one gives me a small number of known truths; the other gives me perhaps one truth, but in doing so, opens before me the prospect of an infinity of unknown truths.
"It is certain that in Fichte's philosophy there is quite a different spirit from that which prevades the philosophy of his predecessor. The spirit of the latter is a weak, fearful spirit, which timidly includes wide, narrow, and narrowest shades of meaning between the hedges and fences of a " to some extent" and " in so far;" — a weak, exhausted spirit, which conceals (and ill-conceals) its poverty of thought behind the mantle of scholastic phraseology, and whose philosophy is form without substance, a skeleton without flesh and blood, body without life, promise without fulfilment. But the spirit of Fichte's philosophy is a proud and bold spirit, for which the domain of human know ledge, even in its widest extent, is too narrow; which opens up new paths at every step it takes; which struggles with language in order to wrest from it words enough for its wealth of thought; which does not lead us, but seizes and hurries us along, and whose finger cannot touch an object without bruising it to dust. But that which especially gives Fichte's philo sophy quite another interest from that of Reinhold, is this, — that in all his inquiries there is a motion, a struggle, an effort, thoroughly to solve the hardest problems of Reason. His predecessor never appeared to suspect the existence of these problems — to say nothing of their solution. Fichte's philosophemes are inquiries in which we see the truth before our eyes, and thus they produce knowledge and conviction. Keinhold's philosophemes are exhibitions of results, the production of which goes on behind the scenes. We may believe, but we cannot know!..." The fundamental element of Fichte's character is the highest honesty. Such a character commonly knows little of delicacy and refinement. In his wri tings we do not meet with much that is particularly beautiful; his best passages are always distinguished by greatness and strength. He does not say fine things, but all his words have force and weight. He wants the amiable, kind, attractive, accommodating spirit of Reinhold. His principles are severe, and not much softened by humanity. Nevertheless he suffers — what Reinhold could not suffer — contradiction; and understands — what Reinhold could not understand — a joke. His superiority is not felt to be so humiliating as that of Reinhold; but when he is called forth, he is terrible. His is a restless spirit, thirsting for oppor tunity to do great things in the world.
" Fichte's public delivery does not flow on smoothly, sweetly, and softly, as Reinhold's did; it rushes along like a tempest, discharging its fire in separate masses. He does not move the soul as Reinhold did; he rouses it. The one seemed as if he would make men good; the other would make them great. Reinhold's face was mildness, and his form was majesty; Fichte's eye is threatening, and his step daring and defiant. Reinhold's philosophy was an endless polemic against Kantists and Anti-Kantists; Fichte, with his, desires to lead the spirit of the age, — he knows its weak side, and PUBLIC DELIVERY. 101 therefore he addresses it on the side of politics. He possesses more readiness, more acuteness, more pene tration, more genius, — in short, more spiritual power than Reinhold. His fancy is not flowing, but it is energetic and mighty; — his pictures are not charming, but they are bold and massive. He penetrates to the innermost depths of his subject, and moves about in the ideal world with an ease and confidence which pro claim that he not only dwells in that invisible land, but rules there."* * The following graphic sketch of Fichte's personal appearance and manner of delivery is taken from the Autobiography of Henry Steffens. Although it refers to a later period of his life, it is thought most appropriate to introduce it here: — " Fichte appeared, to deliver his introductory lecture on the Vocation of Man. This short, strong-built man, with sharp com manding features, made, I must confess, a most imposing appearance, as I then saw him for the first time. Even his language had a cutting sharpness. Well acquainted with the metaphysical incapacity of his hearers, he took the greatest possible pains fully to demonstrate his propositions; but there was an air of authoritativcness in his dis course, as if he would remove all doubts by mere word of command. ' Grentlemen,' said he, ' collect yourselves — go into yourselves — for we have here nothing to do with things without, but simply with the inner self.' Thus summoned, the auditors appeared really to go into themselves. Some, to facilitate the operation, changed their position, and stood up; some drew themselves together, and cast their eyes upon the floor: all were evidently waiting under high excitement for what was to follow this preparatory summons. ' Gen tlemen,' continued Fichte, ' think the wall,' — (3>mfen ©ie tne SOBanb.) This was a task to which the hearers were evidently all equal; they thought the wall. ' Have you thought the wall!' asked Fichte.
' Well then, gentlemen, think him who thought the wall.' It was curious to see the evident confusion and embarrassment that now arose. Many of his audience seemed to be utterly unable anywhere to find him who had thought the wall. — Fichte's delivery was ex cellent, being marked throughout by clearness and precision."
K2 It might naturally be supposed that a teacher pos sessed of so many qualities fitted to command the respect and admiration of his students could not fail to acquire a powerful influence, not only on the nature and direction of their studies, but also on their out ward relations. Accordingly we find Fichte, soon after his settlement at Jena, occupying a most commanding position towards the youth, not of his own depart ment merely, but of the whole University. Doubts had been entertained, even before his arrival, that his ardent and active spirit might lead him to use the influence he should acquire over the students for the furtherance of political projects. His supposed demo cratic opinions were even made a ground of objection to his appointment. And it cannot be affirmed that such anticipations were improbable; for certainly the tendency of his own character, and the peculiar circum stances of the age, presented strong temptations to convert the chair of the professor into the pulpit of the practical philanthropist. He himself says that he was assailed by not a few such temptations, and even invitations, at the beginning of his residence at Jena, but that he resolutely cast them from him. He was not one of those utilitarian philosophers who willingly sacrifice high and enduring good to the attainment of some partial and temporary purpose. His idea of the vocation of an academical teacher opened to him an other field of duty, superior to that of direct political activity.
In all his intercourse with his pupils, public or private, his sole object was the development and cultivation of their moral and intellectual powers. No trace can be found of any attempt to lead his hearers upon the stage of actual life, while the opposition be- LANDSMANNSCHAFTEN. 103 tween the speculative and practical sides of their nature still existed. To reconcile this opposition was the great object of his philosophy. In his hands philo sophy was no longer speculation, but knowledge — (it was soon divested even of its scholastic terminology, and the Ego, Non-Ego, &c. entirely laid aside), — the expression of the profoundest thoughts of man, on himself, the world, and God; — while, on the other hand, morality was no preceptive legislation, but the natural development of the active principle of our own being, indissolubly bound up with, and indeed the essential root of, its intellectual aspect. Binding to gether into a common unity every mode and manifes tation of our nature, his philosophy is capable of the widest application, and of an almost infinite variety of expression; while in the ceaseless elevation of our whole being to higher grades of nobility and great ness is found at once its intellectual supremacy and its moral power.