very reason, not a presupposition in Philosophy, which cannot admit
presuppositions and must think and demonstrate all the concepts that
it posits. But it may conveniently be allowed as a presupposition
for that part of Philosophy, which we are now undertaking to treat,
namely Logic; and the existence of the representative or intuitive
form of knowledge be taken for granted. After all, scepticism could
not formulate more than two objections to this position: either the
negation of knowing in general; or the negation of that form of knowing
which we presuppose. Now, the first would be an instance of absolute
scepticism; and we may be allowed to dispense with exhibiting yet again
the old, but ever effective argument against absolute scepticism which
may be found in the mouths of all students at the university, even
of the boys in the higher elementary classes (and this dispensation
may more readily be granted, seeing that we shall unfortunately be
obliged to record many obvious truths of Philosophy in the course of
our exposition). But we do not mean by this declaration that we shall
evade our obligation to show the genesis and the profound reasons for
this same scepticism, when we are led to do so by the order of our
exposition. The second objection implies the negation of the intuitive
activity as original and autonomous, and its resolution into empirical,
hedonistic, intellectualist, or other doctrines. But we have already,
in the preceding volume,[1] directed our efforts towards making the
intuitive activity immune against such doctrines, that is to say,
towards demonstrating the autonomy of fancy and establishing an
Æsthetic. So that, in this way, the presupposition which we now allow
to stand has here its pedagogic justification, since it resolves itself
into a reference to things said elsewhere.
[Sidenote: _Scepticism as to the concept._]
Facing, therefore, without more ado, the problem of Logic, the first
obstacle to be removed will not be absolute scepticism nor scepticism
concerning the intuitive form; but a new and more circumscribed
scepticism, which does not question the two first theses, indeed
relies upon them, and negates neither knowledge nor intuition, but
_logical_ knowledge itself. Logical knowledge is something beyond
simple representation. The latter is individuality and multiplicity;
the former the _universality_ of individuality, the _unity_ of
multiplicity; the one is intuition, the other _concept._ To know
logically is to know the universal or concept. The negation of logic is
the affirmation that there is no other knowledge than representative
(or sense knowledge, as it is called), and that universal or conceptual
knowledge does not exist. Beyond simple representation, there is
nothing knowable.
Were this so, the treatise which we are preparing to develop would
have no subject-matter whatever, and would here cease, since it is
impossible to seek out the nature of what does not exist, that is, of
the concept, or how it operates in relation to the other forms of the
Spirit. But that this is not so, and that the concept really exists
and operates and gives rise to problems, undoubtedly results from the
negation itself, pronounced by that form of scepticism which we will
call _logical,_ and which is, indeed, the only negation conceivable
upon this point. Thus, we can speedily reassure ourselves as to the
fate of our undertaking; or, if it be preferred, we must at once
abandon the hope which we conjured up before ourselves, and resign
ourselves to the labour of constructing a Logic; a labour which logical
scepticism, by restricting us to the sole form of representation, had,
as it seems, the good intention of sparing us.
[Sidenote: _Its three forms._]
Logical scepticism, in fact, can assume three forms. It may affirm
simply that representative knowledge is the whole and that unity or
universality, whose existence we have postulated, are words without
meaning. Or it may affirm that the demand for unity is justified, but
that it is satisfied only by the non-cognitive forms of the Spirit.
Or, finally, it may affirm that the demand is certainly satisfied by
these non-cognitive forms, but only in so far as they react upon
the cognitive, that is to say, upon the one admitted form of the
cognitive, namely, the representative. It is clear that there is no
other possibility beyond these three, either that of being satisfied
with representative knowledge; or of being satisfied with something
non-cognitive; or of combining these two forms. In the first case,
we have the theory of _æstheticism_ (which could also be correctly
called sensationalism, if this did not happen to be an inconvenient
term, by reason of the misunderstanding which might easily spring from
it); in the second, the theory of _mysticism;_ in the third, that of
_empiricism_ or _arbitrarism._
[Sidenote: _Æstheticism._]
According to æstheticism, in order to understand the real, it is not
necessary to think by means of concepts, to universalize, to reason, or
to be logical. It suffices to pass from one spectacle to another; and
the sum of these, increased to infinity, is the truth which we seek,
and which we must refrain from transcending, lest we fall into the
void. The _sub specie aeterni_ would be just like that mirror of water
which deceived the avidity of the dog of Phædrus, and made it leave the
real for the illusory food. For the cold and fruitless quest of the
logician there is substituted the rich and moving contemplation of the
artist. Truth lies in works of speech, of colour, of line, and not at
all in the vain babblings of philosophy. Let us sing, let us paint, and
not compel our minds to spasmodic and sterile efforts.
[Sidenote: _Mysticism._]
The æstheticist's attitude may be considered as that of the spirit,
which comes out of itself and disperses itself among things, while
keeping itself above and aloof from them, contemplating, but not
immersing itself in them. Mysticism is not satisfied with this, feeling
that no repose is ever accorded to the spirit which abandons itself to
this orgy, this breathless adventure of infinitely various spectacles,
and that the intimate meaning of them all escapes the æstheticist.
It is true that there is no logical knowledge, that the concept is
sterile, but the claim for unity is legitimate, and demands to be, and
is, satisfied. But in what way is it satisfied? Art speaks, and its
speech, however beautiful, does not content us; it paints, and its
colours, however attractive, deceive us. In order to find the inmost
meaning of life, we must seek, not the light, but the shade, not
speech, but silence. In silence, reality raises its head and shows its
countenance; or, better, it shows us nothing, but fills us with itself,
and gives us the sense of its very being. The unity and universality
that we desire are found in action, in the practical form of the
Spirit: in the heart, which palpitates, loves, and wills. Knowledge is
knowledge of the single, it is representation; the eternal is not a
matter of knowledge, but of _intimate and ineffable experience._
[Sidenote: _Empiricism._]
If the sceptics of logico-æsthetic type are chiefly artistic souls, the
logico-mystical sceptics are sentimental and perturbed souls. These,
although they do not usually take an entirely active part in life, yet
do to some extent take part in it, vibrating in sympathetic unison
with it, and, according to circumstances, suffering, sometimes through
taking part, and sometimes through failing so to do. Empiricists
or arbitrarists are to be found, on the other hand, among those
who, engaged in practical affairs, do not indulge in emotions and
sentiments, but aim at producing definite results. Thus, while they are
in complete agreement with the æstheticists and the mystics in denying
all value to logical knowledge as an autonomous form of knowledge,
they are not satisfied, like the former, with spectacles and with
works of art; nor are they caught, like the latter, in the madness and
sorcery of the One and Eternal. The combination which they effect,
of the æstheticist's thesis concerning the value of representation,
with the mystical concerning the value of action, strengthens neither,
but weakens both; and in exchange for the poetry of the first and for
the ecstasy of the second, it offers an eminently prosaic product
countersigned with a most prosaic name, that of _fiction._ There is
something (they say) beyond the mere representation, and this something
is an act of will; which also satisfies the demand for the universal,
not by shutting itself up in itself, but by means of a manipulation
of single representations, so concentrated and simplified as to give
rise to classes or symbols, which are without reality but convenient,
fictitious but useful. Ingenuous philosophers and logicians have
allowed themselves to be deceived by these puppets and have taken them
seriously, as Don Quixote took the Moorish puppets of Master Peter.
Forgetful of the nature and character of the complete operation,
they have proceeded to concentrate and to simplify where there is no
material for such an undertaking, claiming to group afresh, not only
this or that series of representations, but all representations, hoping
thus to obtain the universal concept, that is to say, the concept which
enfolds in its bosom the infinite possibilities of the real. Thus they
have attained the pretended new and autonomous form of knowledge which
goes beyond representations; a refined, but slightly ridiculous process
of thought, like that of a man who would like to make not only knives
of various sizes and shapes, but a knife of knives, beyond all knives
which have a definite shape and are made of iron and steel.
[Sidenote: _Reduction to the absurd of the three forms._]
We shall proceed to examine in their places both the errors resulting
from these modes of solving, or of cutting, the problem of knowledge,
and also the partial truths mingled with them which it is necessary to
exhibit in their full efficacy. But, at the point which now occupies
us, _i.e.,_ the affirmation or negation of the conceptual form of
knowledge, let it suffice to observe how all the ranks of those who
deny the concept move to the assault armed with the _concept._ We
need simply observe, not strive to confute, because it is a question
of something which leaps to the eye at once and does not demand many
words; although many would be necessary to illustrate psychologically
the conditions of spirit and of culture, the natural and acquired
tendencies, the habits and the prejudices, which render such marvellous
blindness possible. The æstheticists affirm that truth resides in
æsthetic contemplation and not in the concept. But, pray, is this
affirmation of theirs perchance song, or painting, or music, or
architecture? It certainly concerns intuition, but it is not intuition;
it has art for subject-matter, but it is not art; it does not
communicate a state of the soul, but communicates a thought, that is to
say, an affirmation of universal character; therefore, it is a concept.
And by this concept it is sought to deny the concept. It is as if one
sought to leap over one's own shadow, when the leap itself throws
the shadow, or, by clinging to one's own pigtail, to pull oneself
into safety out of the river. The same may be said of the mystics.
They proclaim the necessity of silence and of seeking the One, the
Universal, the I, concentrating upon themselves and letting themselves
live; during which mystical experience it may, perhaps, befall them (as
in the _Titan_ of J. P. Richter) to rediscover the I, in a somewhat
materialized form, in their own person. Nevertheless in the case of
those who recommend silence, _non silent silentum,_ they do not pass
it by in silence; rather, it has been said, they _proclaim_ it, and go
about explaining and demonstrating how efficacious their prescription
is for satisfying the desire for the universal. Were they silent about
it, we should not be faced with that doctrine, as a precise formula
to combat. The doctrine of silence and of silent action and inner
experience is nothing but an affirmation of absolute character and
universal content, by means of which are refuted, and it is believed
confuted, other affirmations of the same nature. This too, then,
is a concept; as contradictory as you will, and therefore, needing
elaboration, but always conceptual elaboration and not practical;
which last would altogether prevent the adepts in the doctrine from
talking. And who, in our day, talks as much as the mystics? Indeed,
what could they do, in our day, if they did not talk? And is it not
significant that mystics are now found, not in solitudes, but crowded
round little tables in the cafés, where it is customary, not so much to
achieve inner experiences, as, on the contrary, to chatter? Finally,
the theorists of fictions and of toys, in their amiable satire of
logic and of philosophy, forget to explain one small particular, which
is not without importance; that is to say, whether their theory of
the concepts as fiction, is in its turn _fiction._ Because, were it
fiction, it would be useless to discuss it, since by its own admission
it is without truth; and if it were not (as it is not), it would have
a character of true and not fictitious universality; or, it would
be, not at all a simplification and symbol of representations, but
a concept, and would establish the true concept at the very moment
that it unmasks those that are fictitious. Fiction and the theory
of fiction are (and it should appear evident) different things; as
the delinquent and the judge who condemns him are different, or the
madman and the doctor who studies madness. A fiction, which pretends
to be fiction, opens, at the most, an infinite series which it is not
possible to close, unless there eventually intervene an act which is
not fiction, and which explains all the others, as in the unravelling
of a comedy of cross-purposes. And this is the way that the empiricists
or arbitrarists also come to profess the faith that they would deny.
_Salus ex inimicis_ is a great truth for philosophy not less than for
the whole of life; a truth, which on this occasion finds beautiful
continuation in the hostility towards the concept, perhaps never so
fierce as it is to-day, and in the efforts to choke it, never so great
and never so courageously and cleverly employed. But those enemies
find themselves in the unhappy condition of being unable to choke it,
without in the very act suppressing the principle of their own life.
[Sidenote: _Affirmation of the concept._]
The concept, then, is not representation, nor is it a mixture and
refinement of representation. It springs from representations, as
something implicit in them that must become explicit; a necessity
whose premisses they provide, but which they are not in a position to
satisfy, not even to affirm. The satisfaction is afforded by the form
of knowledge which is no longer representative but logical, and which
occurs continually and at every instant in the life of the Spirit.
To deny the existence of this form, or to prove it illusory by
substituting other spiritual formations in its place, is an attempt
which has been and is made, but which has not succeeded and does not
succeed, and which, therefore, may be considered desperate. This series
of manifestations, this aspect of reality, this form of spiritual
activity, which is the Concept, constitutes the object of Logic.
[Footnote 1: See the first volume of this _Philosophy as Science of the
Spirit; Æsthetic as Science of Expression._]
II
THE CONCEPT AND THE PSEUDOCONCEPTS
[Sidenote: _Concepts and conceptual fictions._]
By distinguishing the concept from representations, we have recognized
the legitimate sphere of representation, and have assigned to it in the
system of spirit the place of an antecedent and more elementary form
of knowledge. By distinguishing the concept from states of the soul,
from efforts of the will, from action, it is intended also to recognize
the legitimacy of the practical form, although we are not here able
to enlarge upon its relations with the cognitive form.[1] But by
distinguishing the concept from _fictions,_ it would almost seem that
in their case we have not explicitly admitted any legitimate province,
that, indeed, we have implicitly denied it, since we have adopted for
them a designation which in itself sounds almost like a condemnation.
This point must be made clear; because it would be impossible to go
further with the treatment of Logic, if we left doubtful and insecure,
that is, not sufficiently distinguished, one of the terms, from which
the concept must be distinguished. What are conceptual fictions? Are
they false and arbitrary concepts, morally reprehensible? Or are they
spiritual products, which aid and contribute to the life of the spirit?
Are they avoidable evils, or necessary functions?
[Sidenote: _The pure concept as ultra- and omnirepresentative._]
A true and proper concept, precisely because it is not representation,
cannot have for content any single representative element, or
have reference to any particular representation, or group of
representations; but on the other hand, precisely because it is
universal in relation to the individuality of the representations, it
must refer at the same time to all and to each. Take as an example any
concept of universal character, be it of _quality,_ of _development,_
of _beauty,_ or of _final cause._ Can we conceive that a piece of
reality, given us in representation, however ample it may be (let it
even be granted that it embraces ages and ages of history, in all
the complexity of the latter, and millenniums and millenniums of
cosmic life), exhausts in itself quality or development, beauty or
final cause, in such a way that we can affirm an equivalence between
those concepts and that representative content? On the other hand,
if we examine the smallest fragment of representable life, can we
ever conceive that, however small and atomic it be, there is lacking
to it quality and development, beauty and final cause? Certainly,
it may be and has been affirmed, that things are not quality, but
pure quantity; that they do not develop, but remain changeless and
motionless; that the criterion of beauty is the arbitrary extension
which we make to cosmic reality of some of our narrow individual and
historical experiences and sentiments; and that final cause is an
anthropomorphic conception, since not "end" but "cause" is the law
of the real, not teleology but mechanism and determinism. Philosophy
has been and is still engrossed in such disputes; and we do not here
present them as definitely solved, nor do we intend to base ourselves
upon determinate conceptions in the choice of our examples. The point
is, that if the theses which we have just mentioned as opposed to the
first, were true, they would furnish, in every case, true and proper
concepts, superior to every representative determination, and embracing
in themselves all representations, that is to say, every possible
experience; and our conception of the concept would not thereby be
changed, but indeed confirmed. Final cause or mechanism, development
or motionless being, beauty or individual pleasure, would always, in
so far as they are concepts, be posited as ultrarepresentative and
at the same time omnirepresentative. Even if, as often happens, both
the opposed concepts were accepted for the same problem, for example,
final cause and mechanism, or development and unmoved substance, it
is never intended simply to apply either of them to single groups of
representations, but to make them elements and component parts of all
reality. Thus, every reality would be, on one side, end, and on the
other, cause; on one side, motionless, on the other, changeable; man
would have in himself something of the mechanical and something of the
teleological; nature would be matter, but urged forward by a first
cause which was non-material, that is, spiritual and final, or at least
unknown--and so on. When it is demonstrated of a concept that it has
been suggested by contingent facts, by this very fact we eliminate
it from the series of true concepts, and substitute for it another
concept, which is given as truly universal. Or again, we suppress it
without substituting another for it, that is to say, we reduce the
number of true and proper concepts. Such a reduction is a progress
of thought, but it is a progress which can never be extended to the
abolition of all concepts, because one, at least, will always remain
ineliminable; that of thought, which thinks the abolition; and this
concept will be ultra- and omnirepresentative.
[Sidenote: _Conceptual fictions as representative without
universality,_]
Fictional concepts or conceptual fictions are something altogether
different. In these, either the content is furnished by a group of
representations, even by a single representation, so that they are
not ultrarepresentative; or there is no representable content, so
that they are not omnirepresentative. Examples of the first type are
afforded by the concepts of _house, cat, rose_; of the second, those
of _triangle,_ or of _free motion._ If we think of the house, we refer
to an artificial structure of stone or masonry or wood, or iron or
straw, where beings, whom we call men, are wont to abide for some
hours, or for entire days and entire years. Now, however great may be
the number of objects denoted by that concept, it is always a finite
number; there was a time when man did not exist, when, therefore,
neither did his house; and there was another time when man existed
without his house, living in caverns and under the open sky. Of course,
undoubtedly, we shall be able to extend the concept of house, so as
to include also the places inhabited by animals; but it will never
be possible to follow with absolute clearness the distinction between
artificial and natural (the act of inhabiting itself makes the place
more or less artificial, by changing, for instance, the temperature);
or between the animals which are inhabitants and the non-animals,
which nevertheless are inhabitants, such as plants, which, as well as
animals, often seek a roof; admitting that certain plants and animals
have other plants and animals as their houses. Hence, in view of the
impossibility of a clear and universal distinctive character, it is
advisable to have recourse at once to enumeration and to give the name
house to certain particular objects, which, however numerous they are,
are also finite in number, and which, with the enumeration complete, or
capable of completion, exclude other objects from themselves. If it is
desired to prevent this exclusion, no other course remains than that of
understanding by _house_ any mode of life between different beings; but
in that case, the conceptual fiction becomes changed into a universal,
lacking particular representations, applicable alike to a house and to
any other manifestation of the real. The same may be said of the cat
and of the rose, since it is evident that cats and roses have appeared
on the earth at a definite time and will disappear at another, and
that while they endure, they can be looked upon as something fixed and
precise, only when we have regard to some particular group of cats and
of roses, indeed to one particular cat or rose at a definite moment of
its existence (a gray cat or a black cat, a cat or a kitten; a white
rose or a red rose, flowering or withered, etc.), elevated into a
symbol and representative of the others. There is not, and there cannot
be, a rigorous characteristic, which should avail to distinguish the
cat from other animals, or the rose from other flowers, or indeed a cat
from other cats and a rose from another rose. These and other fictional
concepts are, therefore, representative, but not ultrarepresentative;
they contain some objects or fragments of reality, they do not contain
it all.
[Sidenote: _or universals void of representations_]