CHAPTER IX.

THE MYSTERY OF MYSTICISM, OR OF NATURE IN GOD.

Interesting material for the criticism of cosmogonic and theogonic

fancies is furnished in the doctrine--revived by Schelling and drawn

from Jacob Böhme--of eternal Nature in God.

God is pure spirit, clear self-consciousness, moral personality;

Nature, on the contrary, is, at least partially, confused,

dark, desolate, immoral, or to say no more, unmoral. But it is

self-contradictory that the impure should proceed from the pure,

darkness from light. How then can we remove these obvious difficulties

in the way of assigning a divine origin to Nature? Only by positing

this impurity, this darkness in God, by distinguishing in God himself

a principle of light and a principle of darkness. In other words,

we can only explain the origin of darkness by renouncing the idea of

origin, and presupposing darkness as existing from the beginning. [62]

But that which is dark in Nature is the irrational, the material,

Nature strictly, as distinguished from intelligence. Hence the simple

meaning of this doctrine is, that Nature, Matter, cannot be explained

as a result of intelligence; on the contrary, it is the basis of

intelligence, the basis of personality, without itself having any

basis; spirit without Nature is an unreal abstraction; consciousness

develops itself only out of Nature. But this materialistic doctrine is

veiled in a mystical yet attractive obscurity, inasmuch as it is not

expressed in the clear, simple language of reason, but emphatically

enunciated in that consecrated word of the emotions--God. If the

light in God springs out of the darkness in God, this is only because

it is involved in the idea of light in general, that it illuminates

darkness, thus presupposing darkness, not making it. If then God is

once subjected to a general law,--as he must necessarily be unless

he be made the arena of conflict for the most senseless notions,--if

self-consciousness in God as well as in itself, as in general, is

evolved from a principle in Nature, why is not this natural principle

abstracted from God? That which is a law of consciousness in itself

is a law for the consciousness of every personal being, whether man,

angel, demon, God, or whatever else thou mayest conceive to thyself as

a being. To what then, seen in their true light, do the two principles

in God reduce themselves? The one to Nature, at least to Nature as

it exists in the conception, abstracted from its reality; the other

to mind, consciousness, personality. The one half, the reverse side,

thou dost not name God, but only the obverse side, on which he presents

to thee mind, consciousness: thus his specific essence, that whereby

he is God, is mind, intelligence, consciousness. Why then dost thou

make that which is properly the subject in God as God, i.e., as mind,

into a mere predicate, as if God existed as God apart from mind,

from consciousness? Why, but because thou art enslaved by mystical

religious speculation, because the primary principle in thee is the

imagination, thought being only secondary and serving but to throw

into formulæ the products of the imagination,--because thou feelest

at ease and at home only in the deceptive twilight of mysticism.

Mysticism is deuteroscopy--a fabrication of phrases having a double

meaning. The mystic speculates concerning the essence of Nature or of

man, but under, and by means of, the supposition that he is speculating

concerning another, a personal being, distinct from both. The mystic

has the same objects as the plain, self-conscious thinker; but the

real object is regarded by the mystic, not as itself, but as an

imaginary being, and hence the imaginary object is to him the real

object. Thus here, in the mystical doctrine of the two principles

in God, the real object is pathology, the imaginary one, theology;

i.e., pathology is converted into theology. There would be nothing to

urge against this, if consciously real pathology were recognised and

expressed as theology; indeed, it is precisely our task to show that

theology is nothing else than an unconscious, esoteric pathology,

anthropology, and psychology, and that therefore real anthropology,

real pathology, and real psychology have far more claim to the name of

theology than has theology itself, because this is nothing more than

an imaginary psychology and anthropology. But this doctrine or theory

is supposed--and for this reason it is mystical and fantastic--to

be not pathology, but theology, in the old or ordinary sense of the

word; it is supposed that we have here unfolded to us the life of

a Being distinct from us, while nevertheless it is only our own

nature which is unfolded, though at the same time again shut up

from us by the fact that this nature is represented as inhering in

another being. The mystic philosopher supposes that in God, not in us

human individuals,--that would be far too trivial a truth,--reason

first appears after the Passion of Nature;--that not man, but God,

has wrestled himself out of the obscurity of confused feelings and

impulses into the clearness of knowledge; that not in our subjective,

limited mode of conception, but in God himself, the nervous tremors

of darkness precede the joyful consciousness of light; in short, he

supposes that his theory presents not a history of human throes, but a

history of the development, i.e., the throes of God--for developments

(or transitions) are birth-struggles. But, alas! this supposition

itself belongs only to the pathological element.

If, therefore, the cosmogonic process presents to us the Light

of the power of distinction as belonging to the divine essence;

so, on the other hand, the Night or Nature in God represents to us

the Pensées confuses of Leibnitz as divine powers. But the Pensées

confuses--confused, obscure conceptions and thoughts, or more correctly

images--represent the flesh, matter;--a pure intelligence, separate

from matter, has only clear, free thoughts, no obscure, i.e., fleshly

ideas, no material images, exciting the imagination and setting the

blood in commotion. The Night in God, therefore, implies nothing else

than this: God is not only a spiritual, but also a material, corporeal,

fleshly being; but as man is man, and receives his designation, in

virtue not of his fleshly nature, but of his mind, so is it with God.

But the mystic philosopher expresses this only in obscure, mystical,

indefinite, dissembling images. Instead of the rude, but hence all

the more precise and striking expression, flesh, it substitutes

the equivocal, abstract words nature and ground. "As nothing is

before or out of God, he must have the ground of his existence in

himself. This all philosophies say, but they speak of this ground

as a mere idea, without making it something real. This ground

of his existence which God has in himself, is not God considered

absolutely, i.e., in so far as he exists; it is only the ground of his

existence. It is Nature--in God; an existence inseparable from him,

it is true, but still distinct. Analogically (?), this relation may

be illustrated by gravitation and light in Nature." But this ground

is the non-intelligent in God. "That which is the commencement of an

intelligence (in itself) cannot also be intelligent." "In the strict

sense, intelligence is born of this unintelligent principle. Without

this antecedent darkness there is no reality of the Creator." "With

abstract ideas of God as actus purissimus, such as were laid down

by the older philosophy, or such as the modern, out of anxiety to

remove God far from Nature, is always reproducing, we can effect

nothing. God is something more real than a mere moral order of

the world, and has quite another and a more living motive power in

himself than is ascribed to him by the jejune subtilty of abstract

idealists. Idealism, if it has not a living realism as its basis, is as

empty and abstract a system as that of Leibnitz or Spinoza, or as any

other dogmatic system." "So long as the God of modern theism remains

the simple, supposed purely essential, but in fact non-essential

Being that all modern systems make him, so long as a real duality is

not recognised in God, and a limiting, negativing force, opposed to

the expansive affirming force, so long will the denial of a personal

God be scientific honesty." "All consciousness is concentration, is a

gathering together, a collecting of oneself. This negativing force, by

which a being turns back upon itself, is the true force of personality,

the force of egoism." "How should there be a fear of God if there

were no strength in him? But that there should be something in God

which is mere force and strength cannot be held astonishing if only

it be not maintained that he is this alone and nothing besides." [63]

But what then is force and strength which is merely such, if

not corporeal force and strength? Dost thou know any power which

stands at thy command, in distinction from the power of kindness and

reason, besides muscular power? If thou canst effect nothing through

kindness and the arguments of reason, force is what thou must take

refuge in. But canst thou "effect" anything without strong arms and

fists? Is there known to thee, in distinction from the power of the

moral order of the world, "another and more living motive power" than

the lever of the criminal court? Is not Nature without body also an

"empty, abstract" idea, a "jejune subtilty"? Is not the mystery of

Nature the mystery of corporeality? Is not the system of a "living

realism" the system of the organised body? Is there, in general,

any other force, the opposite of intelligence, than the force of

flesh and blood,--any other strength of Nature than the strength of

the fleshly impulses? And the strongest of the impulses of Nature,

is it not the sexual feeling? Who does not remember the old proverb:

"Amare et sapere vix Deo competit?" So that if we would posit in God

a nature, an existence opposed to the light of intelligence,--can we

think of a more living, a more real antithesis, than that of amare

and sapere, of spirit and flesh, of freedom and the sexual impulse?

Personality, individuality, consciousness, without Nature, is

nothing; or, which is the same thing, an empty, unsubstantial

abstraction. But Nature, as has been shown and is obvious, is nothing

without corporeality. The body alone is that negativing, limiting,

concentrating, circumscribing force, without which no personality is

conceivable. Take away from thy personality its body, and thou takest

away that which holds it together. The body is the basis, the subject

of personality. Only by the body is a real personality distinguished

from the imaginary one of a spectre. What sort of abstract, vague,

empty personalities should we be, if we had not the property of

impenetrability,--if in the same place, in the same form in which we

are, others might stand at the same time? Only by the exclusion of

others from the space it occupies does personality prove itself to

be real. But a body does not exist without flesh and blood. Flesh and

blood is life, and life alone is corporeal reality. But flesh and blood

is nothing without the oxygen of sexual distinction. The distinction

of sex is not superficial, or limited to certain parts of the body;

it is an essential one: it penetrates bones and marrow. The substance

of man is manhood; that of woman, womanhood. However spiritual and

supersensual the man may be, he remains always a man; and it is the

same with the woman. Hence personality is nothing without distinction

of sex; personality is essentially distinguished into masculine and

feminine. Where there is no thou, there is no I; but the distinction

between I and thou, the fundamental condition of all personality,

of all consciousness, is only real, living, ardent, when felt as the

distinction between man and woman. The thou between man and woman

has quite another sound than the monotonous thou between friends.

Nature in distinction from personality can signify nothing else than

difference of sex. A personal being apart from Nature is nothing

else than a being without sex, and conversely. Nature is said to

be predicated of God, "in the sense in which it is said of a man

that he is of a strong, healthy nature." But what is more feeble,

what more insupportable, what more contrary to Nature, than a person

without sex, or a person who in character, manners, or feelings denies

sex? What is virtue, the excellence of man as man? Manhood. Of man as

woman? Womanhood. But man exists only as man and woman. The strength,

the healthiness of man consists therefore in this: that as a woman,

he be truly woman; as man, truly man. Thou repudiatest "the horror

of all that is real, which supposes the spiritual to be polluted by

contact with the real." Repudiate then, before all, thy own horror for

the distinction of sex. If God is not polluted by Nature, neither is he

polluted by being associated with the idea of sex. In renouncing sex,

thou renouncest thy whole principle. A moral God apart from Nature

is without basis; but the basis of morality is the distinction of

sex. Even the brute is capable of self-sacrificing love in virtue of

the sexual distinction. All the glory of Nature, all its power, all

its wisdom and profundity, concentrates and individualises itself in

distinction of sex. Why then dost thou shrink from naming the nature

of God by its true name? Evidently, only because thou hast a general

horror of things in their truth and reality; because thou lookest at

all things through the deceptive vapours of mysticism. For this very

reason then, because Nature in God is only a delusive, unsubstantial

appearance, a fantastic ghost of Nature,--for it is based, as we have

said, not on flesh and blood, not on a real ground,--this attempt to

establish a personal God is once more a failure, and I, too, conclude

with the words, "The denial of a personal God will be scientific

honesty:"--and, I add, scientific truth, so long as it is not declared

and shown in unequivocal terms, first à priori, on speculative grounds,

that form, place, corporeality, and sex do not contradict the idea of

the Godhead; and secondly, à posteriori,--for the reality of a personal

being is sustained only on empirical grounds,--what sort of form God

has, where he exists,--in heaven,--and lastly, of what sex he is.

Let the profound, speculative religious philosophers of Germany

courageously shake off the embarrassing remnant of rationalism

which yet clings to them, in flagrant contradiction with their

true character; and let them complete their system, by converting

the mystical "potence" of Nature in God into a really powerful,

generating God.

The doctrine of Nature in God is borrowed from Jacob Böhme. But in

the original it has a far deeper and more interesting significance

than in its second modernised and emasculated edition. Jacob Böhme

has a profoundly religious mind. Religion is the centre of his life

and thought. But at the same time, the significance which has been

given to Nature in modern times--by the study of natural science,

by Spinozism, materialism, empiricism--has taken possession of his

religious sentiment. He has opened his senses to Nature, thrown a

glance into her mysterious being; but it alarms him, and he cannot

harmonise this terror at Nature with his religious conceptions. "When I

looked into the great depths of this world, and at the sun and stars,

also at the clouds, also at the rain and snow, and considered in my

mind the whole creation of this world; then I found in all things evil

and good, love and anger,--in unreasoning things, such as wood, stone,

earth, and the elements, as well as in men and beasts.... But because

I found that in all things there was good and evil, in the elements

as well as in the creatures, and that it goes as well in the world

with the godless as with the pious, also that the barbarous nations

possess the best lands, and have more prosperity than the godly; I

was therefore altogether melancholy and extremely troubled, and the

Scriptures could not console me, though almost all well known to me;

and therewith assuredly the devil was not idle, for he often thrust

upon me heathenish thoughts, of which I will here be silent." [64]

But while his mind seized with fearful earnestness the dark side

of Nature, which did not harmonise with the religious idea of a

heavenly Creator, he was on the other hand rapturously affected by

her resplendent aspects. Jacob Böhme has a sense for Nature. He

preconceives, nay, he feels the joys of the mineralogist, of the

botanist, of the chemist--the joys of "godless natural science." He is

enraptured by the splendour of jewels, the tones of metals, the hues

and odours of plants, the beauty and gentleness of many animals. In

another place, speaking of the revelation of God in the phenomena of

light, the process by which "there arises in the Godhead the wondrous

and beautiful structure of the heavens in various colours and kinds,

and every spirit shows itself in its form specially," he says, "I can

compare it with nothing but with the noblest precious stones, such as

the ruby, emerald, epidote, onyx, sapphire, diamond, jasper, hyacinth,

amethyst, beryl, sardine, carbuncle, and the like." Elsewhere: "But

regarding the precious stones, such as the carbuncle, ruby, emerald,

epidote, onyx, and the like, which are the very best, these have the

very same origin--the flash of light in love. For that flash is born

in tenderness, and is the heart in the centre of the Fountain-spirit,

wherefore those stones also are mild, powerful, and lovely." It is

evident that Jacob Böhme had no bad taste in mineralogy; that he had

delight in flowers also, and consequently a faculty for botany, is

proved by the following passages among others:--"The heavenly powers

gave birth to heavenly joy-giving fruits and colours, to all sorts

of trees and shrubs, whereupon grows the beauteous and lovely fruit

of life: also there spring up in these powers all sorts of flowers

with beauteous heavenly colours and scents. Their taste is various,

in each according to its quality and kind, altogether holy, divine,

and joy-giving." "If thou desirest to contemplate the heavenly,

divine pomp and glory, as they are, and to know what sort of products,

pleasure, or joys there are above: look diligently at this world, at

the varieties of fruits and plants that grow upon the earth,--trees,

shrubs, vegetables, roots, flowers, oils, wines, corn, and everything

that is there, and that thy heart can search out. All this is an

image of the heavenly pomp." [65]

A despotic fiat could not suffice as an explanation of the origin

of Nature to Jacob Böhme; Nature appealed too strongly to his

senses, and lay too near his heart; hence he sought for a natural

explanation of Nature; but he necessarily found no other ground of

explanation than those qualities of Nature which made the strongest

impression on him. Jacob Böhme--this is his essential character--is a

mystical natural philosopher, a theosophic Vulcanist and Neptunist,

[66] for according to him "all things had their origin in fire and

water." Nature had fascinated Jacob's religious sentiments,--not

in vain did he receive his mystical light from the shining of tin

utensils; but the religious sentiment works only within itself;

it has not the force, not the courage, to press forward to the

examination of things in their reality; it looks at all things

through the medium of religion, it sees all in God, i.e., in

the entrancing, soul-possessing splendour of the imagination, it

sees all in images and as an image. But Nature affected his mind

in an opposite manner; hence he must place this opposition in God

himself,--for the supposition of two independently existing, opposite,

original principles would have afflicted his religious sentiment;--he

must distinguish in God himself a gentle, beneficent element, and a

fierce consuming one. Everything fiery, bitter, harsh, contracting,

dark, cold, comes from a divine harshness and bitterness; everything

mild, lustrous, warming, tender, soft, yielding, from a mild, soft,

luminous quality in God. "Thus are the creatures on the earth, in the

water, and in the air, each creature out of its own science, out of

good and evil.... As one sees before one's eyes that there are good

and evil creatures; as venomous beasts and serpents from the centre

of the nature of darkness, from the power of the fierce quality,

which only want to dwell in darkness, abiding in caves and hiding

themselves from the sun. By each animal's food and dwelling we see

whence they have sprang, for every creature needs to dwell with its

mother, and yearns after her, as is plain to the sight." "Gold, silver,

precious stones, and all bright metal, has its origin in the light,

which appeared before the times of anger," &c. "Everything which in

the substance of this world is yielding, soft, and thin, is flowing,

and gives itself forth, and the ground and origin of it is in the

eternal Unity, for unity ever flows forth from itself; for in the

nature of things not dense, as water and air, we can understand no

susceptibility or pain, they being one in themselves. [67] In short,

heaven is as rich as the earth. Everything that is on this earth is

in heaven, [68] all that is in Nature is in God. But in the latter

it is divine, heavenly; in the former, earthly, visible, external,

material, but yet the same." "When I write of trees, shrubs and fruits,

thou must not understand me of earthly things, such as are in this

world; for it is not my meaning that in heaven there grows a dead,

hard, wooden tree, or a stone of earthly qualities. No: my meaning is

heavenly and spiritual, but yet truthful and literal; thus, I mean no

other things than what I write in the letters of the alphabet;" i.e.,

in heaven there are the same trees and flowers, but the trees in heaven

are the trees which bloom and exhale in my imagination, without making

coarse material impressions upon me; the trees on earth are the trees

which I perceive through my senses. The distinction is the distinction

between imagination and perception. "It is not my undertaking," says

Jacob Böhme himself, "to describe the course of all stars, their place

and name, or how they have yearly their conjunction or opposition,

or quadrate, or the like,--what they do yearly and hourly,--which

through long years has been discovered by wise, skilful, ingenious

men, by diligent contemplation and observation, and deep thought and

calculation. I have not learned and studied these things, and leave

scholars to treat of them, but my undertaking is to write according

to the spirit and thought, not according to sight." [69]

The doctrine of Nature in God aims, by naturalism, to establish

theism, especially the theism which regards the Supreme Being as

a personal being. But personal theism conceives God as a personal

being, separate from all material things; it excludes from him all

development, because that is nothing else than the self-separation of

a being from circumstances and conditions which do not correspond to

its true idea. And this does not take place in God, because in him

beginning, end, middle, are not to be distinguished,--because he is

at once what he is, is from the beginning what he is to be, what he

can be; he is the pure unity of existence and essence, reality and

idea, act and will. Deus suum Esse est. Herein theism accords with

the essence of religion. All religions, however positive they may be,

rest on abstraction; they are distinguished only in that from which

the abstraction is made. Even the Homeric gods, with all their living

strength and likeness to man, are abstract forms; they have bodies,

like men, but bodies from which the limitations and difficulties of the

human body are eliminated. The idea of a divine being is essentially

an abstracted, distilled idea. It is obvious that this abstraction

is no arbitrary one, but is determined by the essential stand-point

of man. As he is, as he thinks, so does he make his abstraction.

The abstraction expresses a judgment,--an affirmative and a

negative one at the same time, praise and blame. What man praises

and approves, that is God to him; [70] what he blames, condemns, is

the non-divine. Religion is a judgment. The most essential condition

in religion--in the idea of the divine being--is accordingly the

discrimination of the praiseworthy from the blameworthy, of the perfect

from the imperfect; in a word, of the positive from the negative. The

cultus itself consists in nothing else than in the continual renewal

of the origin of religion--a solemnising of the critical discrimination

between the divine and the non-divine.

The Divine Being is the human being glorified by the death of

abstraction; it is the departed spirit of man. In religion man frees

himself from the limits of life; he here lets fall what oppresses him,

obstructs him, affects him repulsively; God is the self-consciousness

of man freed from all discordant elements; man feels himself free,

happy, blessed in his religion, because he only here lives the life

of genius, and keeps holiday. The basis of the divine idea lies for

him outside of that idea itself; its truth lies in the prior judgment,

in the fact that all which he excludes from God is previously judged

by him to be non-divine, and what is non-divine to be worthless,

nothing. If he were to include the attaining of this idea in the idea

itself, it would lose its most essential significance, its true value,

its beatifying charm. The divine being is the pure subjectivity of

man, freed from all else, from everything objective, having relation

only to itself, enjoying only itself, reverencing only itself--his

most subjective, his inmost self. The process of discrimination, the

separating of the intelligent from the non-intelligent, of personality

from Nature, of the perfect from the imperfect, necessarily therefore

takes place in the subject, not in the object, and the idea of God

lies not at the beginning but at the end of sensible existence, of

the world, of Nature. "Where Nature ceases, God begins," because God

is the ne plus ultra, the last limit of abstraction. That from which

I can no longer abstract is God, the last thought which I am capable

of grasping--the last, i.e., the highest. Id quo nihil majus cogitari

potest, Deus est. That this Omega of sensible existence becomes an

Alpha also, is easily comprehensible; but the essential point is, that

he is the Omega. The Alpha is primarily a consequence; because God is

the last or highest, he is also the first. And this predicate--the

first Being, has by no means immediately a cosmogonic significance,

but only implies the highest rank. The creation in the Mosaic religion

has for its end to secure to Jehovah the predicate of the highest

and first, the true and exclusive God in opposition to idols.

The effort to establish the personality of God through Nature has

therefore at its foundation an illegitimate, profane mingling of

philosophy and religion, a complete absence of criticism and knowledge

concerning the genesis of the personal God. Where personality is held

the essential attribute of God, where it is said--an impersonal God is

no God; there personality is held to be in and by itself the highest

and most real thing, there it is presupposed that everything which

is not a person is dead, is nothing, that only personal existence is

real, absolute existence, is life and truth--but Nature is impersonal,

and is therefore a trivial thing. The truth of personality rests

only on the untruth of Nature. To predicate personality of God is

nothing else than to declare personality as the absolute essence;

but personality is only conceived in distinction, in abstraction

from Nature. Certainly a merely personal God is an abstract God;

but so he ought to be--that is involved in the idea of him; for he is

nothing else than the personal nature of man positing itself out of all

connection with the world, making itself free from all dependence on

nature. In the personality of God man consecrates the supernaturalness,

immortality, independence, unlimitedness of his own personality.

In general, the need of a personal God has its foundation in this, that

only in the attribute of personality does the personal man meet with

himself, find himself. Substance, pure spirit, mere reason, does not

satisfy him, is too abstract for him, i.e., does not express himself,

does not lead him back to himself. And man is content, happy, only when

he is with himself, with his own nature. Hence, the more personal a

man is, the stronger is his need of a personal God. The free, abstract

thinker knows nothing higher than freedom; he does not need to attach

it to a personal being; for him freedom in itself, as such, is a

real positive thing. A mathematical, astronomical mind, a man of pure

understanding, an objective man, who is not shut up in himself, who

feels free and happy only in the contemplation of objective rational

relations, in the reason which lies in things in themselves--such

a man will regard the substance of Spinoza, or some similar idea,

as his highest being, and be full of antipathy towards a personal,

i.e., subjective God. Jacobi therefore was a classic philosopher,

because (in this respect, at least) he was consistent, he was at

unity with himself; as was his God, so was his philosophy--personal,

subjective. The personal God cannot be established otherwise than as

he is established by Jacobi and his disciples. Personality is proved

only in a personal manner.

Personality may be, nay, must be, founded on a natural basis; but

this natural basis is attained only when I cease to grope in the

darkness of mysticism, when I step forth into the clear daylight of

real Nature, and exchange the idea of the personal God for the idea

of personality in general. But into the idea of the personal God,

the positive idea of whom is liberated, disembodied personality,

released from the limiting force of Nature, to smuggle again this very

Nature, is as perverse as if I were to mix Brunswick mum with the

nectar of the gods, in order to give the ethereal beverage a solid

foundation. Certainly the ingredients of animal blood are not to be

derived from the celestial juice which nourishes the gods. But the

flower of sublimation arises only through the evaporation of matter;

why, then, wilt thou mix with the sublimate that very matter from

which thou hast disengaged it? Certainly, the impersonal existence of

Nature is not to be explained by the idea of personality; but where

personality is a truth, or, rather, the absolute truth, Nature has

no positive significance, and consequently no positive basis. The

literal creation out of nothing is here the only sufficient ground of

explanation; for it simply says this: Nature is nothing;--and this

precisely expresses the significance which Nature has for absolute

personality.

The Essence of Christianity Translated from the second German edition · 第 9 / 22 章