CHAPTER XIV.

THE OPPOSITION TO CONSTRUCTIVE IDEALISM: FRIES, HERBART, SCHOPENHAUER.

In Fries, Herbart, and Schopenhauer a threefold opposition was raised

against the idealistic school represented by Fichte, Schelling, and

Hegel. The opposition of Fries is aimed at the method of the constructive

philosophers, that of Herbart against their ontological positions, and that

of Schopenhauer against their estimate of the value of existence. Fries

and Beneke declare that a speculative knowledge of the suprasensible is

impossible, and seek to base philosophy on empirical psychology; to the

monism (panlogism) of the idealists Herbart opposes a pluralism, to their

philosophy of becoming, a philosophy of being; Schopenhauer rejects their

optimism, denying rationality to the world and the world-ground. Among

themselves the thinkers of the opposition have little more in common than

their claim to a better understanding of the Kantian philosophy, and a

development of it more in harmony with the meaning of its author, than it

had experienced at the hands of the idealists. Whoever fails to agree

with them in this, and ascribes to the idealists whom they oppose better

grounded claims to the honor of being correct interpreters and consistent

developers of Kantian principles, will be ready to adopt the name

_Semi-Kantians_, given by Fortlage to the members of the opposition,--a

title which seems the more fitting since each of them appropriates only a

definitely determinable part of Kant's views, and mingles a foreign element

with it. In Fries this non-Kantian element comes from Jacobi's philosophy

of faith; in Herbart it comes from the monadology of Leibnitz, and the

ancient Eleatico-atomistic doctrine; in Schopenhauer, from the religion of

India and (as in Beneke) from the sensationalism of the English and the

French. We can only hint in passing at the parallelism which exists between

the chief representatives of the idealistic school and the leaders of

the opposition. Fries's theory of knowledge and faith is the empirical

counterpart of Fichte's Science of Knowledge. Schopenhauer, in his doctrine

of Will and Idea, in his vigorously intuitive and highly fanciful view of

nature and art, and, in general, in his aesthetical mode of philosophizing,

with its glad escape from the fetters of method, has so much in common with

Schelling that many unhesitatingly treat his system as an offshoot of the

Philosophy of Nature. The contrast between Herbart and Hegel is the more

pronounced since they are at one in their confidence in the power of the

concept. The most conspicuous point of comparison between the metaphysics

of the two thinkers is the significance ascribed by them to the

contradiction as the operative moment in the movement of philosophical

thought. The attitude of hostility which Schleiermacher assumed in relation

to Hegel's intellectualistic conception of religion induced Harms to give

to Schleiermacher also a place in the ranks of the opposition. Following

the chronological order, we begin with the campaign opened by Fries under

the banner of anthropology against the main branch of the Kantian school.

%1. The Psychologists: Fries and Beneke.%

Jacob Friedrich Fries (1773-1843) was born and reared at Barby, studied

at Jena, and habilitated at the same university in the year 1801; he was

professor at Heidelberg in 1806-16, and at Jena from 1816 until his death.

His chief work was the _New Critique of Reason_, in three volumes, 1807

(2d ed., 1828 _seq_.), which had been preceded, in 1805, by the treatise

_Knowledge, Faith, and Presentiment_. Besides these he composed a _Handbook

of Psychical Anthropology_, 1821 (2d ed., 1837 _seq_.), text-books of

Logic, Metaphysics, the Mathematical Philosophy of Nature, and Practical

Philosophy and the Philosophy of Religion, and a philosophical novel,

_Julius and Evagoras, or the Beauty of the Soul_.

Fries adopts and popularizes Kant's results, while he rejects Kant's

method. With Reinhold and Fichte, he thinks "transcendental prejudice" has

forced its way into philosophy, a phase of thought for which Kant himself

was responsible by his anxiety to demonstrate everything. That _a priori_

forms of knowledge exist cannot be proved by speculation, but only by

empirical methods, and discovered by inner observation; they are

given facts of reason, of which we become conscious by reflection or

psychological analysis. The _a priori_ element cannot be demonstrated nor

deduced, but only shown actually present. The question at issue[1] between

Fries and the idealistic school therefore becomes, Is the discovery of the

_a priori_ element itself a cognition _a priori_ or _a posteriori_? Is

the criticism of reason a metaphysical or an empirical, that is, an

anthropological inquiry? Herbart decides with the idealists: "All concepts

through which we think our faculty of knowledge are themselves metaphysical

concepts" (_Lehrbuch zur Einleitung_, p. 231). Fries decides: The criticism

of reason is an empirico-psychological inquiry, as in general empirical

psychology forms the basis of all philosophy.

[Footnote 1: Cf. Kuno Fischer's Pro-Rectoral Address, _Die beiden

Kantischen Schulen in Jena_, 1862.]

With the exception of this divergence in method Fries accepts Kant's

results almost unchanged, unless we must call the leveling down which they

suffer at his hands a considerable alteration. Only the doctrine of the

Ideas and of the knowledge of reason is transformed by the introduction and

systematization of Jacobi's principle of the immediate evidence of faith.

Reason, the faculty of Ideas, _i.e._, of the indemonstrable yet indubitable

principles, is fully the peer of the sensibility and the understanding. The

same subjective necessity which guarantees to us the objective reality of

the intuitions and the categories accompanies the Ideas as well; the faith

which reveals to us the _per se_ of things is no less certain than the

knowledge of phenomena. The ideal view of the world is just as necessary as

the natural view; through the former we cognize the same world as through

the latter, only after a higher order; both spring from reason or the

unity of transcendental apperception, only that in the natural view we are

conscious of the fact, from which we abstract in the ideal view, that this

is the condition of experience. That which necessitates us to rise from

knowledge to faith is the circumstance that the empty unity-form of reason

is never completely filled by sensuous cognition. The Ideas are of two

kinds: the aesthetic Ideas are intuitions, which lack clear concepts

corresponding to them; the logical Ideas are concepts under which no

correspondent definite intuitions can be subsumed. The former are reached

through combination; the latter by negation, by thinking away the

limitations of empirical cognition, by removing the limits from the

concepts of the understanding. By way of the negation of all limitations we

reach as many Ideas as there are categories, that is, twelve, among which

the Ideas of relation are the most important. These are the three axioms of

faith--the eternity of the soul (its elevation above space and time, to be

carefully distinguished from immortality, or its permanence in time),

the freedom of the will, and the Deity. Every Idea expresses something

absolute, unconditioned, perfect, and eternal.--The dualism of knowledge

and faith, of nature and freedom, or of phenomenal reality and true, higher

reality, is bridged over by a third and intermediate mode of apprehension,

feeling or presentiment, which teaches us the reconciliation of the two

realities, the union of the Idea and the phenomenon, the interpenetration

of the eternal and the temporal. The beautiful is the Idea as it manifests

itself in the phenomenon, or the phenomenon as it symbolizes the eternal.

The aesthetico-religious judgment looks on the finite as the revelation and

symbol of the infinite. In brief, "Of phenomena we have knowledge; in the

true nature of things we believe; presentiment enables us to cognize the

latter in the former."

Theoretical philosophy is divided into the philosophy of nature, which

is to use the mathematical method, hence to give a purely mechanical

explanation of all external phenomena, including those of organic life,

and to leave the consideration of the world as a teleological realm to

religious presentiment--and psychology. The object of the former is

external nature, that of the latter internal nature. I know myself only as

phenomenon, my body through outer, my ego through inner, experience. It

is only a variant mode of appearing on the part of one and the same

reality--so Fries remarks in opposition to the _influxus physicus_ and

the _harmonia praestabilata_--which now shows me my person inwardly as

my spirit, and now outwardly as the life-process of my body. Practical

philosophy includes ethics, the philosophy of religion, and aesthetics. In

accordance with the threefold interest of our animal, sensuo-rational, and

purely rational impulses, there result three ideals for the legislation of

values. These are the ideal of happiness, the ideal of perfection, and the

ideal of morality, or of the agreeable, the useful, and the good, the third

of which alone possesses an unconditioned worth and validity as a universal

and necessary law. The moral laws are deduced from faith in the equal

personal dignity of men, and the ennobling of humanity set up as the

highest mission of morality. The three fundamental aesthetical tempers are

the idyllic and epic of enthusiasm, the dramatic of resignation, the lyric

of devotion.

Fries's system is thus a union of Kantian positions with elements from

Jacobi, in which the former experience deterioration, and the latter

improvement, namely, more exact formulation. Among his adherents, and he

has them still, the following appear deserving of mention: the botanists

Schleiden and Hallier; the theologian De Wette; the philosophers Calker (of

Bonn, died 1870) and Apelt (1812-59). The last made himself favorably known

by his _Epochs of the History of Humanity_, 1845-46, _Theory of Induction_,

1854, and _Metaphysics_, 1857; his _Philosophy of Religion_ (1860) did not

appear until after his death. The Catholic theologian, Georg Hermes of Bonn

(1775-1831) favored a Kantianism akin to that of Fries.

* * * * *

The psychological view founded by Fries was consistently developed by

Friedrich Eduard Beneke (1798-1854). With the exception of three years of

teaching in Göttingen, 1824-27, whither he had gone in consequence of a

prohibition of his lectures called forth by his _Foundation of the Physics

of Ethics_, 1822, he was a member of the university of his native city,

Berlin, first as _Docent_, and, from 1832, after the death of Hegel, who

was unfavorably disposed toward him, as professor extraordinary.[1] Besides

Kant, Jacobi, and Fries, Schleiermacher, Herbart (with whom he became

acquainted in 1821), and the English thinkers exerted a determining

influence on the formation of his philosophy. Beneke denies the possibility

of speculative knowledge even more emphatically than Fries. Kant's

undertaking was aimed at the destruction of a non-experiential science from

concepts, and if it has not succeeded in preventing the neo-Scholasticism

of the Fichtean school, with its overdrawn attempts to revive a deductive

knowledge of the absolute, this has been chiefly due to the false,

non-empirical method of the great critic of reason. The root and basis of

all knowledge is experience; metaphysics itself is an empirical science, it

is the last in the series of philosophical disciplines. Whoever begins with

metaphysics, instead of ending with it, begins the house at the roof.

The point of departure for all cognition is inner experience or

self-observation; hence the fundamental science is psychology, and all

other branches of philosophy nothing but applied psychology. By the inner

sense we perceive our ego as it really is, not merely as it appears to us;

the only object whose _per se_ we immediately know is our own soul; in

self-consciousness being and representation are one. Thus, in opposition to

Kant, Beneke stands on the side of Descartes: The soul is better known

to us than the external world, to which we only transfer the existence

immediately given in the soul as a result of instinctive analogical

inference, so that in the descent of our knowledge from men organized

like ourselves to inorganic matter the inadequacy of our representations

progressively increases.

[Footnote 1: On Beneke's character cf. the fourth of Fortlage's _Acht

psychologische Vorträge_, which are well worth reading.]

Psychology--we may mention of Beneke's works in this field the

_Psychological Sketches_, 1825-27, and the _Text-book of Psychology_, 1833,

the third and fourth (1877) editions of which, edited by Dressler, contain

as an appendix a chronological table of all Beneke's works--must, as

internal natural science, follow the same method, and, starting with

the immediately given, employ the same instruments in the treatment of

experience as external natural science, _i.e._ the explanation of facts

by laws, and, further still, by hypotheses and theories. Gratefully

recognizing the removal of two obstacles to psychology, the doctrine of

innate ideas and the traditional theory of the faculties of the soul by

Locke and Herbart, (the commonly accepted faculties--memory, understanding,

feeling, will--are in fact not simple powers, but mere abstractions,

hypostatized class concepts of extremely complex phenomena,) Beneke seeks

to discover the simple elements from which all mental life is compounded.

He finds these in the numerous elementary faculties of receiving and

appropriating external stimuli, which the soul in part possesses, in part

acquires in the course of its life, and which constitute its substance;

each separate sense of itself includes many such faculties. Every act

or product of the soul is the result of two mutually dependent factors:

_stimulus and receptivity_. Their coming together gives the first of

the _four fundamental processes_, that of perception. The second is

the constant addition of new elementary faculties. By the third,

the equilibration or reciprocal transfer of the movable elements in

representations, Beneke explains the reproduction of an idea through

another associated with it, and the widening of the mental horizon by

emotion, _e.g._, the astounding eloquence of the angry. Since each

representation which passes out of consciousness continues to exist in the

soul as an unconscious product (where we cannot tell; the soul is not in

space), it is not retention, but obliviscence which needs explanation. That

which persists of the representation which is passing into unconsciousness,

and which makes its reappearance in consciousness possible, is called

a "trace" in reference to its departed cause, and a "disposition"

(_Angelegtheit_) in reference to its future results. Every such trace

or germ (_Anlage_)--that which lies intermediate between perception and

recollection--is a force, a striving, a tendency. The fourth of the

fundamental processes (which may be traced downward into the material

world, since the corporeal and the psychical differ only in degree and

pass over into each other) is the combination of mental products according

to the measure of their similarity, as these come to light in the formation

of judgments, comparisons, witticisms, of collective images, collective

feelings, and collective desires. The innate differences among men depend

on the greater or lesser "powerfulness, vivacity, and receptivity" of their

elementary faculties; all further differences arise gradually and are due

to the external stimuli; even the distinction between the human and the

animal soul, which consists in the spiritual nature of the former, is not

original.

Of the five constructive forms of the soul, which result from the varying

relation between stimulus and faculty, four are emotional products or

products of moods. If the stimulus is too small pain (dissatisfaction,

longing) arises, while pleasure springs from a marked, but not too great,

fullness of stimulus. If the stimulus gradually increases to the point of

excess, blunted appetite and satiety come in; when the excess is sudden

it results in pain. A clear representation, a sensation arises when the

stimulus is exactly proportioned to the faculty; it is in this case only

that the soul assumes a theoretical attitude, that it merely perceives

without any admixture of agreeable or disagreeable feelings. Desire is

pleasure remembered, the ego the complex of all the representations which

have ever arisen in the soul, the totality of the manifold given within me.

For the immortality of the immaterial soul Beneke advances an original and

attractive argument based on the principle that, in consequence of the

constantly increasing traces, through which the substance of the soul is

continually growing, consciousness turns more and more from the outer

to the inner, until finally perception dies entirely away. At death the

connection with the outer world ceases, it is true, but not the inner being

of the soul, for which that which has hitherto been highest now becomes the

foundation for new and still higher developments.

Like Herbart, on whom he was in many ways dependent, Beneke discussed

psychology and pedagogics with greater success than logic, metaphysics,

practical philosophy, and the philosophy of religion. He combats the

apriorism of Kant in ethics as elsewhere. The moral law does not arise

until the end of a long development. First in order are the immediately

felt values of things, which we estimate according to the degree of

enhancement or depression in the psychical state which they call forth.

From the feelings are formed concepts, from concepts judgments; and the

abstraction of the categorical imperative is a highly derivative phenomenon

and a very late result, although the feeling of oughtness or of moral

obligation, which accompanies the correct estimation of values and bids

us prefer spiritual to sensuous delights and the general good to our own

welfare, grows necessarily out of the inner nature of the human soul. There

are two sources of religion: one theoretical, for the idea of God; the

other practical, for the worship of God. We are impelled to the assumption

of a suprasensible, an unconditioned, a providence, on the one hand, by the

desire for a unitary conclusion for our fragmentary knowledge of the world;

and, on the other, by moral need, by our unsatisfied longing after the

good. The attributes which we ascribe to God are taken from experience, the

abstract attributes from being in general, the naturalistic from the world,

the spiritual from man. As an inevitable outcome of the transformation of

religious feelings into representations, and one which is harmless because

of the unmistakableness of their symbolic character, the anthropomorphic

predicates, through which we think the Deity as personal, themselves

establish the superiority of theism over pantheism. The object of religion,

moreover, is accessible only to the subjective certitude of feeling which

is given by faith, and not to scientific knowledge.

Feuerbach's anthropological standpoint will be discussed below. Like

Friedrich Ueberweg (1826-71; professor in Königsberg; _System of Logic_,

1857, 5th ed., edited by J.B. Meyer, 1882--English translation, 1871), Karl

Fortlage was strongly influenced in his psychological views by Beneke.

Born in 1806 at Osnabrück, and at his death in 1881 a professor in Jena,

Fortlage shared with Beneke an impersonality of character, as well as the

fate of meeting with less esteem from his contemporaries than he merited

by the seriousness and originality of his thinking. To his _System of

Psychology_, 1855, in two volumes, he added, as it were, a third volume,

his _Contributions to Psychology_, 1875, besides psychological lectures of

a more popular cast (_Eight Lectures_, 1869, 2d ed., 1872; _Four Lectures_,

1874).[1] Fortlage characterizes his psychological method--in the criticism

of which F.A. Lange fails to show the justice for which he is elsewhere

to be commended--as observation by the inner sense. In the first place,

consciousness, as the active form of representation, must be separated from

that of which we are conscious, from the "content of representation," which

is in itself unconscious, but capable of coming into consciousness. Next

Fortlage seeks to determine the laws of these two factors. In regard to

the content of representation he distinguishes more sharply than Herbart

between the fusibility of the homogeneous and the capacity for complex

combination possessed by the heterogeneous (the fusion of similars goes on

even without aid from consciousness, while the connection of dissimilars is

brought about only through the help of the latter), and adds to these two

general properties of the content of representation two further ones, its

revivability (its persistence in unconsciousness), and its dissolubility in

the scale of size, color, etc. Consciousness, on the other hand, which for

Fortlage coincides with the ego or self, is treated as the presupposition

of all representations, not as their result--it is underived activity. He

explains the nature of consciousness by the concept of attention,

characterizes them both as "questioning activity" (_Fragethätigkeit_), and

follows them out in their various degrees from expectation through

observation up to reflection. The listening and watching of the hunter

when waiting for the game is only a prolongation of the same consciousness

which accompanies all less exciting representations. The essential element

in conscious or questioning activity is the oscillation between yes and no.

As soon as the disjunction is decided by a yes, the desire which lies at

its basis, and which in the condition of consciousness is arrested, passes

over into activity. All consciousness is based on interest, and in its

origin is "arrested impulse" (_Triebhemmung_). "The direction of impulse

to an intuition to be expected only in the future is called

consciousness." The rank of a being depends on its capacity for

reflection: the greater the extent of its attention and the smaller

the stimuli which suffice to rouse this to action, the higher it stands.

Impulse--this is the fundamental idea of Fortlage's psychology, like will

with Fichte, and representation with Herbart--consists of an element of

representation and an element of feeling.

Pleasure + effort-image = impulse.

[Footnote 1: Among Fortlage's other works we may mention his valuable

_History of Poetry_, 1839; the _Genetic History of Philosophy since Kant_,

1852; and the attractive _Six Philosophical Lectures_, 1869, 2d ed., 1872.]

In his metaphysical convictions, to which he gave expression in his

_Exposition and Criticism of the Arguments for the Existence of God_,

1840, among other works, Fortlage belongs to the philosophers of identity.

Originally sailing in Hegel's wake, he soon recognizes that the roots of

the theory of identity go back to the Kantio-Fichtean philosophy, with

which the system of absolute truth, as he holds, has come into being. He

thus becomes an adherent of the Science of Knowledge, whose deductive

results he finds inductively confirmed by psychological experience.

Psychology is the empirical test for the metaphysical calculus of the

Science of Knowledge. In regard to the absolute Fortlage is in agreement

with Krause, the younger Fichte, Ulrici, etc., and calls his standpoint

_transcendent pantheism_. According to this all that is good, exalted, and

valuable in the world is divine in its nature; the human reason is of

the same essence as the divine reason (there can be nothing higher than

reason); the Godhead is the absolute ego of Fichte, which employs the

empirical egos as organs, which thinks and wills in individuals, in so

far as they think the truth and will the good, but at the same time as

universal subject goes beyond them. If, after the example of Hegel, we give

up transcendent pantheism in favor of immanence, two unphilosophical modes

of representing the absolute at once result--on the one hand, materialism;

on the other, popular, unphilosophical theism. If the Fichtean Science

of Knowledge could be separated from its difficult method, which it is

impossible ever to make comprehensible to the unphilosophical mind, it

would be called to take the place of religion.[1]

[Footnote 1: Among Fortlage's posthumous manuscripts was one on the

Philosophy of Religion, on which Eucken published an essay in the

_Zeitschrift für Philosophie_, vol. lxxxii. 1883, p. 180 _seq_. after

Lipsius had given a single chapter from it--"The Ideal of Morality

according to Christianity"--in his _Jahrbücher für protestantische

Theologie_ (vol. ix. pp. 1-45). The journals _Im Neuen Reich_, 1881, No.

24, and _Die Gegenwart_, 1882, No. 34, contained warmly written notices of

Fortlage by J. Volkelt. Leopold Schmid (in Giessen, died 1869) gives a

favorable and skillfully composed outline of Fortlage's system in his

_Grundzüge der Einleitung in die Philosophie mit einer Beleuchtung der

von K. Ph. Fischer, Sengler, und Fortlage ermöglichten Philosophie der

That_, 1860, pp. 226-357. Cf. also Moritz Brasch, _K. Fortlage, Ein

philosophisches Charakterbild_, in _Unsere Zeit_, 1883, Heft II,

pp. 730-756, incorporated in the same author's _Philosophie der

Gegenwart_, 1888.]

%2. Realism: Herbart.%

Johann Friedrich Herbart was scientifically the most important among the

philosophers of the opposition. Herbart was born at Oldenburg in 1776, the

son of a councilor of justice, and had already become acquainted with the

systems of Wolff and Kant before he entered the University of Jena in

1794. In 1796 he handed in to his instructor Fichte a critique of two of

Schelling's treatises, in which the youthful thinker already broke

away from idealism. While a private tutor in Switzerland he made the

acquaintance of Pestalozzi. In 1802 he habilitated in Göttingen, where, in

1805, he was promoted to a professorship extraordinary; while in 1809 he

received the professorship in Königsberg once held by Kant, and later by

W. Tr. Krug (died 1842). He died in 1841 at Göttingen, whither he had been

recalled in 1833. His _Collected Works_ were published in twelve volumes,

1850-52 (reprinted 1883 _seq_.), by his pupil Hartenstein, who has also

given an excellent exposition of his master's system in his _Probleme und

Grundlehren der allgemeinen Metaphysik_, 1836, and his _Grundbegriffe der

ethischen Wissenschaften_, 1844; a new edition, in chronological order, and

under the editorship of K. Kehrbach, began to appear in 1882, or rather

1887, and has now advanced to the fourth volume, 1891. Herbart's chief

works were written during his Königsberg residence: the _Text-book of

Introduction to Philosophy_, 1813, 4th ed., 1837 (very valuable as an

introduction to Herbartian modes of thought); _General Metaphysics_, 1829

(preceded in 1806 and 1808 by _The Principal Points in Metaphysics_, with a

supplement, _The Principal Points in Logic); Text-book of Psychology_,[1]

1816, 2d ed., 1834; _On the Possibility and Necessity of applying

Mathematics to Psychology_, 1822; _Psychology as a Science_, 1824-25. The

two works on ethics, which were widely separated in time, were, on the

other hand, written in Göttingen: _General Practical Philosophy_, 1808;

_Analytical Examination of Natural Right and of Morals_, 1836. To these

may be added a _Discourse on Evil_, 1817; _Letters on the Doctrine of

the Freedom of the Human Will_, 1836; and the _Brief Encyclopaedia of

Philosophy_, 1831, 2d ed., 1841. His works on education and instruction,

whose influence and value perhaps exceed those of his philosophical

achievements (collected editions of the pedagogical works have been

prepared by O. Willmann, 1873-75, 2d ed., 1880; and by Bartholomaei),

extended through his whole life. Besides pedagogics, psychology was the

chief sphere of his services.

[Footnote 1: English translation by M.K. Smith, 1891.]

In antithesis to the philosophy of intuition with its imagined superiority

to the standpoint of reflection, Herbart makes philosophy begin with

attention to concepts, defining it as the elaboration of concepts.

Philosophy, therefore, is not distinguished from other sciences by its

object, but by its method, which again must adapt itself to the

peculiarity of the object, to the starting point of the investigation in

question--there is no universal philosophical method. There are as many

divisions of philosophy as there are modes of elaborating concepts. The

first requisite is the discrimination of concepts, both the discrimination

of concepts from others and of the marks within each concept. This work

of making concepts clear and distinct is the business of logic. With this

discipline, in which Herbart essentially follows Kant, are associated two

other forms of the elaboration of concepts, that of physical and that

of aesthetic concepts. Both of these classes require more than a merely

logical elucidation. The physical concepts, through which we apprehend the

world and ourselves, contain contradictions and must be freed from them;

their correction is the business of meta-physics. Metaphysics is the

science of the comprehensibility of experience. The aesthetic (including

the ethical) concepts are distinguished from the nature-concepts by a

peculiar increment which they occasion in our representation, and which

consists in a judgment of approval or disapproval. To clear up these

concepts and to free them from false allied ideas is the task of aesthetics

in its widest sense. This includes all concepts which are accompanied by a

judgment of praise or blame; the most important among them are the ethical

concepts. Thus, aside from logic, we reach two principal divisions of

philosophy, which are elsewhere contrasted as theoretical and practical,

but here in Herbart as metaphysics and aesthetics. Herbart maintains that

these are entirely independent of each other, so that aesthetics, since it

presupposes nothing of metaphysics, may be discussed before metaphysics,

while the philosophy of nature and psychology depend throughout on

ontological principles. Together with natural theology the two latter

sciences constitute "applied" metaphysics. This in turn presupposes

"general" metaphysics, which subdivides into four parts: Methodology,

Ontology, Synechology, _i.e._, the theory of the continuous ([Greek:

_suneches_]), which treats of the continua, space, time, and motion, and

Eidolology, _i.e._, the theory of images or representations. The last forms

the transition to psychology, while synechology forms the preparation

for the philosophy of nature, whose most general problems it solves. Our

exposition will not need to observe these divisions closely.

Metaphysics starts with the given, but cannot rest content with it, for it

contains contradictions. In resolving these we rise above the given. What

_is given_? Kant has not answered this question with entire correctness.

We may, indeed, term the totality of the given "phenomena," but this

presupposes something which appears. If nothing existed there would also

nothing appear. As smoke points to fire, so appearance to being. So much

seeming, so much indication of being. Things in themselves may be known

mediately, though not immediately, by following out the indications of

being contained by the given appearance. Further, not merely the unformed

matter of cognition is given to us, but it is rather true that everything

comes under this concept which experience so presses on us that we cannot

resist it; hence not merely single sensations, but entire sensation-groups,

not merely the matter, but also the forms of experience. If the latter were

really subjective products, as Kant holds, it would necessarily be possible

for us at will to think each perceptive-content either under the category

of substance, or property, or cause--possible for us, if we chose, to see

a round table quadrilateral. In reality we are bound in the application of

these forms; they are given for each object in a definite way. The given

forms--Herbart calls them experience-concepts--contain contradictions.

How can these contradictions be removed? We may neither simply reject the

concepts which are burdened with contradictions, for they are given, nor

leave them as they are, for the logical _principium contradictionis_

requires that the contradiction as such be rooted out. The

experience-concepts are valid (they find application in experience), but

they are not thinkable. Therefore we must so transform and supplement them

that they shall become free from contradictions and thinkable. The method

which Herbart employs to remove the contradictions is as follows: The

contradiction always consists in the fact that an _a_ should be the same as

a _b_, but is not so. The desiderated likeness of the two is impossible so

long as we think _a_ as _one_ thing. That which is unsuccessful in this

case will succeed, perhaps, if in thought we break up the _a_ into several

things--[Greek: _a b g_]. Then we shall be able to explain through the

"together" (_Zusammen_) of this plurality what we were unable to explain

from the undecomposed _a_, or from the single constituents of it. The

"together" is a "relation" established by thought among the elements of the

real. For this reason Herbart terms his method of finding out necessary

supplements to the given "the method of relations." Another name for the

same thing is "the method of contingent aspects." Mechanics operates with

contingent aspects when, for the sake of explanation, it resolves a given

motion into several components. Such fictions and substitutions--auxiliary

concepts, which are not real, but which serve only as paths for

thought--may be successfully employed by metaphysics also. The abstract

expression of this method runs: The contradiction is to be removed by

thinking one of its members as manifold rather than as one. In order to

observe the workings of this Herbartian machine we shall go over the four

principal contradictions by which his acuteness is put to the test--the

problems of inherence, of change, of the continuous, of the ego.

We call the given sensation-complexes "things," and ascribe "properties" to

them. How can one and the same thing have different properties--how can

the one be at the same time many? To say that the thing "possesses" the

properties does not help the matter. The possession of the different

properties is itself just as manifold and various as the properties which

are possessed. Hence the concept of the thing and its properties must be

so transformed that the plurality which seems to be in the thing shall be

transferred without it. Instead of one thing let us assume several, each

with a single definite property, from whose "together" the appearance

of many qualities in one thing now arises. The appearance of manifold

properties in the one thing has its ground in the "together" of many

things, each of which has one simple quality. Again, it is just as

impossible for a thing to have different qualities in succession, or to

change, as it is for it to have them at the same time. The popular view

of change, which holds that a thing takes on different forms (ice, water,

steam) and yet remains the same substance, is untenable. How is it possible

to become another, and yet to remain the same? The universal feeling that

the concept needs correction betrays itself in the fact that everyone

involuntarily adds a cause to the change in thought, and seeks a cause for

it, and thus of himself undertakes a transformation of the concept, though,

it is true, an inadequate one. If we think this concept through we come

upon a trilemma, a threefold impossibility. Whether we endeavor to deduce

the change from external or from internal causes, or (with Hegel) to think

it as causeless, in each case we involve ourselves in inconceivabilities.

All three ideas--change as mechanism, as self-determination or freedom,

as absolute becoming--are alike absurd. We can escape these contradictions

only by the bold decision to conceive the quality of the existent as

unchangeable. For the truly existent there is no change whatever. It

remains, however, to explain the appearance of change, in which the wand of

decomposition and the "together" again proves its magic power. Supported by

the motley manifoldness of phenomena, we posit real beings as qualitatively

different, and view this diversity as partial contraposition; we resolve,

_e.g._, the simple quality _a_ into the elements _x_ + _z_, and a second

quality _b_ into _y - z_. So long as the individual things remain by

themselves, the opposition of the qualities will not make itself evident.

But as soon as they come together, something takes place--now the opposites

(+_z_ and -_z_) seek to destroy or at least to disturb each other. The

reals defend themselves against the disturbance which would follow if the

opposites could destroy each other, by each conserving its simple,

unchangeable quality, _i.e._, by simply remaining self-identical.

_Self-conservation against_ threatened _disturbances_ from without (it may

be compared to resistance against pressure) is the only real change, and

apparent change, the empirical changes of things, to be explained from

this. That which changes is only the relations between the beings, as a

thing maintains itself now against this and now against that other thing;

the relations, however, and their change are something entirely contingent

and indifferent to the existent. In itself the self-conservation of a real

is as uniform as the quality which is conserved, but in virtue of the

changing relations (the variety of the disturbing things) it can express

itself for the observer in manifold ways as force. The real itself changes

as little as a painting changes, for instance, when, seen near at hand, the

figures in it are clearly distinguished, while for the distant

observer, on the contrary, they run together into an indistinguishable

chaos. Change has no meaning in the sphere of the existent.

Anyone who speaks thus has denied change, not deduced it. Among the many

objections experienced by Herbart's endeavor to explain the empirical

fact of change by his theory of self-conservation against threatened

disturbances Lotze's is the most cogent: The unsuccessful attempt to

solve the difficulties in the concept of becoming and action is still

instructive, for it shows that they cannot be solved in this way--from the

concept of inflexible being. If the "together," the threatened disturbance,

and the reaction against the latter be taken as realities, then, in the

affection by the disturber, the concept of change remains uneliminated and

uncorrected; if they be taken as unreal concepts auxiliary to thought,

change is relegated from the realm of being to the realm of seeming.

Herbart gives to them a kind of semi-reality, less true than the unmoving

ground of things (their unchangeable, permanent qualities), and more true

than their contradictory exterior (the empirical appearance of change).

Between being and seeming he thrusts in, as though between day and night,

the twilight region of his "contingent aspects," with their relations,

which are nothing to the real, their disturbances, which do not come to

pass, and their self-conservations, which are nothing but undisturbed

continuance in existence on the part of the real.

Besides the contradictions in the concepts of inherence, of change,

and action and passion, it is the concept of being which prevents our

philosopher from ascribing a living character to reality. Being, as Kant

correctly perceived, contains nothing qualitative; it is absolute position.

Whoever affirms that an object _is_, expresses thereby that the matter is

to rest with the simple position; in which is included that it is nothing

dependent, relative, or negative. (Every negation is something relative,

relates to a precedent position, which is to be annulled by it.) Besides

being, the existent contains something more--a quality; it consists of this

absolute position and a _what_. If this _what_ is separated from being we

reach an "image"; united with being it yields an essence or a real. This

_what_ of things is not their sensuous qualities; the latter belong rather

to the mere phenomenon. No one of them indicates what the object is by

itself, when left alone. They depend on contingent circumstances, and apart

from these they would not exist--what is color in the dark? what sound

in airless space? what weight in empty space? what fusibility without

fire?--they are each and all relative. Since being excludes negation of

every kind, the quality of the existent must be absolutely _simple and

unchangeable_; it brooks no manifoldness, no quantity, no distinctions in

degree, no becoming; all this were a corruption of the purely affirmative

or positive character of being. The existent is unextended and eternal.

The Eleatics are to be praised because the need of escaping from the

contradictions in the world of experience led them to make themselves

masters of the concept of being without relation and without negation, and

of the simple, homogeneous quality of the existent in its full purity. But

while the Eleatics conceived the existent as one, the atomists made an

advance by assuming a _plurality_ of reals. The truly one never becomes

a plurality; plurality is given, hence an original plurality must be

postulated. Herbart characterizes his own standpoint as qualitative

atomism, since his reals are differentiated by their properties, not by

quantitative relations (size and figure). The idealists and the pantheists

make a false use of the tendency toward unity which, no doubt, is present

in our reason, when they maintain that true being must be one. There is

absolutely nothing in the concept of being to forbid us to think the

existent as many; while the world of phenomena, with its many things and

their many properties, gives irrefragable grounds which compel us to this

conclusion. Hence, according to Herbart, the true reality is a (very

large, though not, it is true, an infinite[1]) plurality of supra-sensible

(non-spatial and non-temporal) reals, or, according to the Leibnitzian

expression, monads, which all their life have nothing further to do than

to preserve intact against disturbances the simple quality in which they

consist (for the existent is not distinct from its quality; it does not

have the quality, but is the quality). Each thing has but one response for

the most varied influences: it answers all suggestions from without by

affirming its _what_, by continually repeating, as it were, the same note,

which gains a varying meaning only in so far as, in accordance with the

character of the disturber, it appears now as a third, now as a fifth or

seventh. This picture of the world is certainly not attractive; in it all

change and becoming, all life and all activity is offered up on the altar

of monotonous being. Happily Herbart is inconsistent enough to enliven this

comfortless waste of changeless being by the relatively real or semi-real

manifoldness of the self-conservations.

The infinite divisibility of space and of matter forms the chief difficulty

in the problem of the continuous. Herbart endeavors to solve it by the

assumption of an intelligible space with "fixed" lines (lines formed by a

definite number of points, hence finitely divisible, and not continuous).

Metaphysics demands the fixed or discrete line, although common thought

is incapable of conceiving it. Space is a mere form of combination in

representation or for the observer, and yet it is objective, _i.e._, it is

valid for all intelligences, and not merely for human intelligence.

From his complex and unproductive endeavors to derive the appearance of

continuity from discontinuous reality we hurry on to the fourth, the

psychological problem, which Herbart discusses with great acuteness. He

considers it the chief merit of Fichte's Science of Knowledge that it

called attention to this problem.

The concept of the ego, of whose reality we have so strong and immediate a

conviction that, in the formula of asseveration, "as true as I exist,"

it is made the criterion of all other certitude, labors under various

contradictions. Besides the familiar difficulty, here especially sensible,

of one thing with many marks, it contains other absurdities of its own. In

the ego or self-consciousness subject and object are to be identical.

The identity of the representing and the represented ego is a

self-contradictory idea, for the law of contradiction forbids the equation

of opposites, while a subject is subject only through the fact that it is

not object. But, again, self-consciousness can never be realized, because

it involves a _regressus in infinitum_. The ego is defined as that which

represents itself. What is this "self"? It is, in turn, the self-knower.

This new explanation contains still a further self; which once more

signifies the self-knower and so on to infinity. The ego represents the

representation (_Vorstellen_) of its representation (_Vorstellen)_, etc.

The representation (_Vorstellung_) of the ego, therefore, can never be

actually brought to completion. (The assumption of the freedom of the will

leads to an analogous _regressus in infinitum_, in which the question,

"Willst thou thy volition?" "Willst thou the willing of this volition"? is

repeated to infinity.) The only escape from this tissue of absurdities

is to think the ego otherwise than is done by popular consciousness. The

knowing and the known ego are by no means the same, but the observing

subject in self-consciousness is one group of representations, the observed

subject another. Thus, for example, newly formed representations are

apperceived by the existing older ones, but the highest apperceiver is not,

in turn, itself apperceived. The ego is not a unit being, which represents

itself in the literal meaning of the phrase, but that which is represented

is a plurality. The ego is the junction of numberless series of

representations, and is constantly changing its place; it dwells now in

this representation, now in that. But as we distinguish the point of

meeting from the series which meet there, and imagine that it is possible

simultaneously to abstract from all the represented series (whereas in fact

we can only abstract from each one separately), there arises the appearance

of a permanent ego as the unit subject of all our representations. In

reality the ego is not the source of our representations, but the final

result of their combination. The representation, not the ego, is the

fundamental concept of psychology, the ego constituting rather its most

difficult problem.[1] It is a "result of other representations, which,

however, in order to yield this result, must be together in a single

substance, and must interpenetrate one another" (_Text-book of

Introduction_, p. 243). In this way Herbart defends the substantiality

of the soul against Kant and Fries. The soul's immortality (as also its

pre-existence) goes without saying, because of the non-temporal character

of the real.

[Footnote 1: On the Herbartian psychology, cf. Ribot, _German Psychology of

To-day_, English Translation by Baldwin, 1886, pp. 24-67; and G.F. Stout,

_Mind_, vols. xiii.-xiv.--TR.]

The soul is one of these reals which, unchangeable in themselves, enter

into various relations with others, and conserve themselves against the

latter. In its simple _what_ as unknowable as the rest, it is yet familiar

to us in its self-conservations. In the absence of a more fitting

expression for the totality of psychical phenomena we call these

_representations_, the phenomenal manifoldness of which is due to the

variety of the disturbances and exists for the observer alone. In itself,

without a plurality of dispositions and impulses, the soul is originally

not a representative force, but first becomes such under certain

circumstances, viz., when it is stimulated to self-conservation by other

beings. The sum of the reals which stand in immediate relation to the soul

is called its body; this, an aggregate of simple beings, furnishes the

intermediate link of causal relation between the soul and the external

world. The soul has its (movable) seat in the brain. In opposition to the

physiological treatment of psychology, Herbart remarks that psychology

throws much more light on physiology than she can ever receive from it.

The simplest representations are the sensations, which, amid all their

variety, still group themselves into definite classes (odors, sounds,

colors). They serve us as symbols of the disturbing reals, but they are not

images of things, nor effects of these, but products of the soul itself:

the generation of sensations is the soul's peculiar way of guarding itself

against threatened disturbances. Every representation once come into being

disappears again from consciousness, it is true, but not from the soul.

It persists, unites with others, and stands with them in a relation of

interaction--in both cases according to definite laws. These original

representations are the only ones which the soul produces by its own

activity; all other psychical phenomena, feeling, desire, will, attention,

memory, judgment, the whole wealth of inner events, result of themselves

from the interplay of the primary representations under law. Representation

(more exactly sensation) is alone original; space, time, the categories,

which Kant makes _a priori_, are all acquired, _i.e._, like all the higher

mental life, they are the results of a psychical _mechanism_, results whose

production needs no renewed exertion on the part of the soul itself. It has

been a very harmful error in psychology hitherto to ascribe each particular

mental activity to a special _faculty of the soul_ having a similar name,

instead of deriving it from combinations of simple representations.

Abstract, empty class ideas have been treated as real forces, in the belief

that thus the single concrete acts had been "explained."

There is no bitterer foe of the faculty theory than Herbart. His campaign

against it, if not victorious, was yet salutary, and the motives of his

hostility, up to a certain point, entirely justified. Nothing is more

useless than the assurance that what the soul actually does, that it must

also have the power to do. Who disputes this? A faculty explains nothing

so long as the laws under which its functions and its relations to other

faculties remain unexplained. But although the faculty idea serves no

positive end, it cannot be entirely discarded. It marks the boundary where

our ability to reduce one class of psychical phenomena to another ceases.

Herbart's polemic has no force against the moderate and necessary use of

this idea, no matter how much it was in place in view of the impropriety of

a superfluous multiplication of the faculties of the soul. The realization

of the ideal of psychology, the reduction of the complex phenomena of

mental life to the smallest possible number of simple elements, is limited

by the heterogeneity of the original phenomena, knowing, feeling, willing,

which wholly resists derivation from the combination of sensations. That

which blinded Herbart to these limitations was that tendency toward unity,

which, as a metaphysician and moral philosopher, he had all too willfully

suppressed, and which now took revenge for this infringement of its rights

by misleading the psychologist to an exaggeration which had important

consequences. Nevertheless his unsuccessful attempt remains interesting and

worthy of gratitude.

The discovery of the laws which govern the interaction of the psychical

elements is the task of a _statics and a mechanics_ of representations. The

former investigates the equilibrium or the settled final state; the latter,

the change, _i.e._ the movements of representations. These names of

themselves betray Herbart's conviction that mathematics can and must be

applied to psychology. The bright hopes, however, which Herbart formed for

the attempt at a mathematical psychology, were fulfilled neither in his own

endeavors nor in those of his pupils, although, as Lotze remarks, it would

be asserting too much to say that the most general formulas which he set up

contradict experience.--The unity of the soul forces representations to act

on one another. Disparate representations, those, that is, which belong

to different representative series, as the visual image of a rose and the

auditory image of the word rose, or as the sensations yellow, hard, round,

ringing, connected in the concept gold piece, enter into complications

[complexes]. Homogeneous representations (the memory image and the

perceptual image of a black poodle) fuse into a single representation.

Opposed representations (red and blue) arrest one another when they are in

consciousness together. The connection and graded fusion of representations

is the basis of their retention and reproduction, as well as of the

formation of continuous series of representations. The reproduction is in

part immediate, a free rising of the representation by its own power as

soon as the hindrances give way; in part mediate, a coming up through

the help of others. On the _arrest_ of partially or totally opposed

representations Herbart bases his psychological calculus. Let there be

given simultaneously in consciousness three opposed representations of

different intensities, the strongest to be called _a_, the weakest _c_, the

intermediate one _b_. What happens? They arrest one another, _i.e._ a part

of each is forced to sink below the threshold of consciousness.[1]

What is the amount of the arrest? As much as all the weaker representations

together come to--the sum of arrest or the sum of that which becomes

unconscious (as it were the burden to be divided) is equal to the sum of

all the representations with the exception of the strongest (hence = _b_ +

_c_), and is divided among the individual representations in the inverse

ratio of their strength, consequently in such a way that the strongest (the

one which most actively and successfully resists arrest) has the least,

and the weakest the most, of it to bear. It may thus come to pass that a

representation is entirely driven out of consciousness by two stronger

ones, while it is impossible for this to happen to it from a single one,

no matter how superior it be. The simplest case of all is when two equally

strong representations are present, in which case each is reduced to

the half of its original intensity. The sum of that which remains in

consciousness is always equal to the greatest representation.

[Footnote 1: By their mutual pressure representations are transformed into

a mere _tendency_ to represent, which again becomes actual representation

when the arrest ceases. The parts of a representation transformed into a

tendency, and the residua remaining unobscured, are not pieces cut off,

but the quantity denotes merely a degree of obscuration in the whole

representation, or rather in the representation which actually takes

place.]

As soon as a representation reaches the zero point of consciousness, or as

soon as a new representation (sensation) comes in, the others begin at

once to rise or sink. The Mechanics seeks to investigate the laws of these

movements of representations; but we may the more readily pass over its

complicated calculations since their precise formulas can never more than

very roughly represent the true state of the case, which simply rebels

against precision. The rock on which every immanent use of mathematics

in psychology must strike, is the impossibility of exactly measuring one

representation by another. We may, indeed, declare one stronger than

another on the basis of the immediate impression of feeling, but we cannot

say how much stronger it is, nor with reason assert that it is twice or

half as intense. Herbart's mathematical psychology was wrecked by this

insurmountable difficulty. The demand for exactness which it raised, but

which it was unable to satisfy with the means at its disposal, has recently

been renewed, and has led to assured results in psycho-physics, which works

on a different basis and with ingenious methods of measurement.

Herbart endeavors, as we have seen, to deduce the various mental activities

from the play of representations, Feeling and desire are not something

beside representations, are not special faculties of the soul, but results

of the relations of representations, changing states of representations

arrested and working upward against hindrances. A representation which has

been forced out of consciousness persists as a _tendency or effort_ to

represent, and as such exerts a pressure on the conscious representations.

If a representation is suspended between counteracting forces a feeling

results; desire is the rise of a representation in the face of hindrances,

aversion is hesitation in sinking. If the effort is accompanied by the idea

that its goal is attainable, it is termed will. The character of a man

depends on the fact that definite masses of representations have

become dominant, and by their strength and persistence hold opposing

representations in check or suppress them. The longer the dominant mass of

representations exercises its power, the firmer becomes the habit of acting

in a certain way, the more fixed the will. Herbart's intellectualistic

denial of self-dependence to the practical capacities of the soul leads him

logically to determinism. Volition depends on insight, is determined by

representations; freedom signifies nothing but the fact that the will

can be determined by motives. If the individual decisions of man were

undetermined he would have no character; if the character were free in the

choice between two actions, then, along with the noblest resolve, there

would remain the possibility of an opposite decision; freedom of choice

would make pure chance the doer of our deeds. Pedagogics, above all,

must reject the idea of an undetermined freedom; education, along with

imputation, correction, and punishment, would be a meaningless word, if no

determining influence on the will of the pupil were possible.--This last

objection overlooks the fact that the pedagogical influence is always

mediate, and can do no more than, by disciplining the impulses of the pupil

and by supplying him with aids against immoral inclinations, to lighten his

moral task. We can work on the motives only, never directly on the will

itself. Otherwise it would be inexplicable that even the best pedagogical

skill proves powerless in the case of many individuals.

Herbart's psychology was preceded by a philosophy of nature, which

construes matter from attraction and repulsion, and declares an _actio in

distans_ impossible. The intermediate link between physics and psychology

is formed by the science of organic life (physiology or biology); and

with this natural theology is connected by the following principles: The

purposiveness which we notice with admiration in men and the higher animals

compels us, since it can neither come from chance nor be explained on

natural grounds alone, to assume as its author a supreme artificer,

an intelligence which works by ends. It is true, indeed, that the existence

of the Deity is not demonstrated by the teleological argument; this is only

an hypothesis, but one as highly probable as the assumption that the human

bodies by which we are surrounded are inhabited by human souls--a fact

which we can only assume, not perceive nor prove. The assurance of faith

is different from that of logic and experience, but not inferior to it.

Religion is based on humility and grateful reverence, which is favored, not

injured, by the immeasurable sublimity of its object, the incompleteness of

our idea of the Supreme Being, and the knowledge of our ignorance. If faith

rests, on the one hand, on the teleological view of nature, it is, on the

other, connected with moral need, and exercises, in addition, aesthetic

influences. By comforting the suffering, setting right the erring,

reclaiming and pacifying the sinner, warning, strengthening, and

encouraging the morally sound, religion brings the spirit into a new and

better land, shows it a higher order of things, the order of providence,

which, amid all the mistakes of men, still furthers the good. The religious

spirit always includes an ethical element, and the bond of the Church holds

men together even where the state is destroyed. Indispensable theoretically

as a supplement to our knowledge, and practically because of the moral

imperfection of men, who need it to humble, warn, comfort, and lift them

up, religion is, nevertheless, in its origin independent of knowledge

and moral will. Faith is older than science and morals: the doctrine of

religion did not wait for astronomy and cosmology, nor the erection of

temples for ethics. Before the development of the moral concepts religion

already existed in the form of wonder without a special object, of a gloomy

awe which ascribed every sudden inner excitement to the impulse of an

invisible power. Since a speculative knowledge of the nature of God is

impossible, the only task which remains for metaphysics is the removal of

improper determinations from that which tradition and phantasy have to

say on the subject. We are to conceive God as personal, extramundane, and

omnipotent, as the creator, not of the reals themselves, but of their

purposive coexistence (_Zusammen_). In order, however, to rise from the

idea of the original, most real, and most powerful being to that of the

most excellent being we need the practical Ideas, without which the former

would remain an indifferent theoretical concept. Man can pray only to a

wise, holy, perfect, just, and good God.

This, in essential outline, is the content of the scattered observations

on the philosophy of religion given by Herbart. Drobisch (_Fundamental

Doctrines of the Philosophy of Religion_, 1840), from the standpoint of

religious criticism and with a renewal of the moral argument, and Taute

(1840-52) and Flügel (_Miracles and the Possibility of a Knowledge of God_,

1869) with an apologetic tendency and one toward a belief in miracles,

have, among others, endeavored to make up for the lack of a detailed

treatment of this discipline by Herbart--from which, moreover, much of

value could hardly have been expected in view of the jejuneness of his

metaphysical conceptions and the insufficiency of his appreciation of evil.

It remains only to glance at Herbart's Aesthetics. The beautiful is

distinguished from the agreeable and the desirable, which, like it, are the

objects of preference and rejection, by the facts, first, that it arouses

an involuntary and disinterested judgment of approval; and second, that it

is a predicate which is ascribed to the object or is objective. To these is

added, thirdly, that while desire seeks for that which is to come, taste

possesses in the present that which it judges.

That which pleases or displeases is always the form, never the matter;

and further, is always a relation, for that which is entirely simple is

indifferent. As in music we have succeeded in discovering the simplest

relations, which please immediately and absolutely--we know not why--so

this must be attempted in all branches of the theory of art. The most

important among them, that which treats of moral beauty, moral philosophy,

has therefore to inquire concerning the simplest relations of will, which

call forth moral approval or disapproval (independently of the interest

of the spectator), to inquire concerning the practical Ideas or

pattern-concepts, in accordance with which moral taste, involuntarily and

with unconditional evidence, judges concerning the worth or unworth of

(actually happening or merely represented) volitions. Herbart enumerates

five such primary Ideas or fundamental judgments of conscience.

(1) The Idea of inner freedom compares the will with the judgment, the

conviction, the conscience of the agent himself. The agreement of his

desire with his own judgment, with the precept of his taste, pleases, lack

of agreement displeases. Since the power to determine the will according

to one's own insight of itself establishes only an empty consistency and

loyalty to conviction, and may also subserve immoral craft, the first Idea

waits for its content from the four following.

(2) The Idea of perfection has reference to the quantitative relations

of the manifold strivings of a subject, in intensity, extension, and

concentration. The strong is pleasing in contrast with the weak, the

greater (more extended, richer) in contrast with the smaller, the collected

in contrast with the scattered; in other words, in the individual

desires it is energy which pleases, in their sum variety, in the system

co-operation. While the first two Ideas have compared the will of the

individual man with itself, the remaining ones consider its relation to the

will of other rational beings, the third to a merely represented will, and

the last two to an actual one.

(3) According to the Idea of benevolence or goodness, which gives the most

immediate and definite criterion of the worth of the disposition, the will

pleases if it is in harmony with the (represented) will of another, _i.e._,

makes the satisfaction of the latter its aim.

(4) The Idea of right is based on the fact that strife displeases. If

several wills come together at one point without ill-will (in claiming a

thing), the parties ought to submit themselves to right as a rule for the

avoidance of strife.

(5) In retribution and equity, also, the original element is displeasure,

displeasure in an unrequited act as a disturbance of equilibrium. This

last Idea demands that no deed of good or evil remain unanswered; that in

reward, thanks, and punishment, a quantum of good and evil equal to that of

which he has been the cause return upon the agent. The one-sided deed of

good or ill is a disturbance, the removal of which demands a corresponding

requital.

Herbart warns us against the attempt to derive the five original Ideas

(which scientific analysis alone separates, for in life we always judge

according to all of them together) from a single higher Idea, maintaining

that the demand for a common principle of morals is a prejudice. From

the union of several beings into one person proceed five other

pattern-concepts, the derived or social Ideas of the ethical institutions

in which the primary Ideas are realized. These correspond to the primary

Ideas in the reverse order: The system of rewards, which regulates

punishment; the legal society, which hinders strife; the system of

administration, aimed at the greatest possible good of all; the system

of culture, aimed at the development of the greatest possible power and

virtuosity; finally, as the highest, and that which unites the others in

itself, society as a person, which, when it is provided with the necessary

power, is termed the state.

If we combine the totality of the original Ideas into the unity of the

person the concept of virtue arises. If we reflect on the limitations which

oppose the full realization of the ideal of virtue, we gain the concepts of

law and duty. An ethics, like that of Kant, which exclusively emphasizes

the imperative or obligatory character of the good, is one-sided; it

considers morality only in arrest, a mistake which goes with its false

doctrine of freedom. On the other hand, it was a great merit in Kant

that he first made clear the unconditional validity of moral judgment,

independent of all eudemonism. Politics and pedagogics are branches of the

theory of virtue. The end of education is development in virtue, and, as

a means to this, the arousing of varied interests and the production of a

stable character.

In conclusion, we may sum up the points in which Herbart shows himself

a follower of Kant--he calls himself a "Kantian of the year 1828." His

practical philosophy takes from Kant its independence of theoretical

philosophy, the disinterested character of aesthetic judgment, the

absoluteness of ethical values, the non-empirical origin of the moral

concepts: "The fundamental ethical relations are not drawn from

experience." His metaphysics owes to Kant the critical treatment of the

experience-concepts (its task is to make experience comprehensible), in

which the leading idea in the Kantian doctrine of the antinomies, the

inevitableness of contradictions, is generalized, extended to all the

fundamental concepts of experience, and, as it were, transferred from the

Dialectic to the Analytic; it owes to him, further, the conception of being

as absolute position, and, finally, the dualism of phenomena and things

in themselves. Herbart (with Schopenhauer) considers the renewal of the

Platonic distinction between seeming and being the chief service of the

great critical philosopher, and finds his greatest mistake in the _a

priori_ character ascribed to the forms of cognition. In the doctrine of

the pure intuitions and the categories, and the Critique of Judgment, he

rejects, and with full consciousness, just those parts of Kant on which the

Fichtean school had built further. Finally, Herbart's method of thought,

his impersonality, the at times anxious caution of his inquiry, and the

neatness of his conceptions, are somewhat akin to Kant's, only that he

lacked the gift of combination to a much greater degree than his great

predecessor on the Königsberg rostrum. His remarkable acuteness is busier

in loosening than in binding; it is more happy in the discovery of

contradictions than in their resolution. Therefore he does not belong to

the kings who have decided the fate of philosophy for long periods of time;

he stands to one side, though it is true he is the most important figure

among these who occupy such a position.

The first to give his adherence to Herbart in essential positions, and so

to furnish occasion for the formation of an Herbartian school, was Drobisch

(born 1802), in two critiques which appeared in 1828 and 1830. Besides

Drobisch, from whom we have valuable discussions of Logic (1836, 5th ed.,

1887) and Empirical Psychology (1842), and an interesting essay on _Moral

Statistics and the Freedom of the Will_ (1867), L. Strümpell (born 1812;

_The Principal Points in Herbart's Metaphysics Critically Examined_, 1840),

is a professor in Leipsic. The organ of the school, the _Zeitschrift

für exakte Philosophie_, now edited by Flügel (the first volume, 1860,

contained a survey of the literature of the school), was at first issued

by T. Ziller, the pedagogical thinker, and Allihn. The _Zeitschrift für

Völkerpsychologie und Sprachwissenschaft_, from 1859, edited by M. Lazarus

(born 1824; _The Life of the Soul_, 3 vols., 1856 _seq_., 3d ed., 1883

_seq_.) and H. Steinthal (born 1823; _The Origin of Language_, 4th ed.,

1888; _Sketch of the Science of Language_, part i. 2d ed., 1881; _General

Ethics_, 1885) of Berlin, also belongs to the Herbartian movement.

Distinguished service has been done in psychology by Nahlowsky (_The Life

of Feeling_, 1862, 2d. ed., 1884), Theodor Waitz in Marburg (1821-84;

_Foundation of Psychology_, 1846; _Text-book of Psychology_, 1849), and

Volkmann in Prague (1822-77; _Text-book of Psychology_, 3d. ed., by

Cornelius, 1884 and 1885); while Friedrich Exner (died 1853) was formerly

much spoken of as an opponent of the Hegelian psychology (1843-44). Robert

Zimmermann in Vienna (born 1824) represents an extreme formalistic tendency

in aesthetics (_History of Aesthetics_, 1858; _General Esthetics as Science

of Form_, 1865; further, a series of thorough essays on subjects in the

history of philosophy). Among historians of philosophy Thilo has given a

rather one-sided representation of the Herbartian standpoint. The school's

philosophers of religion have been mentioned above (p. 532). Beneke, whom

we have joined with Fries on account of his anthropological standpoint,

stands about midway between Herbart and Schopenhauer. He shares in the

former's interest in psychology, in the latter's foundation of metaphysical

knowledge on inner experience, and in the dislike felt by both for Hegel;

while, on the other hand, he differs from Herbart in his empirical method,

and from Schopenhauer in the priority ascribed to representation over

effort.

%3. Pessimism: Schopenhauer.%

Schopenhauer is in all respects the antipodes of Herbart. If in Herbart

philosophy breaks up into a number of distinct special inquiries,

Schopenhauer has but one fundamental thought to communicate, in the

carrying out of which, as he is convinced, each part implies the whole and

is implied by the whole. The former operates with sober concepts where the

latter follows the lead of gifted intuition. The one is cool, thorough,

cautious, methodical to the point of pedantry; the other is passionate,

ingenious, unmethodical to the point of capricious dilettantism. In the one

case, philosophy is as far as possible exact science, in which the person

of the thinker entirely retires behind the substance of the inquiry; in the

other, philosophy consists in a sum of artistic conceptions, which derive

their content and value chiefly from the individuality of the author. The

history of philosophy has no other system to show which to the same

degree expresses and reflects the personality of the philosopher as

Schopenhauer's. This personality, notwithstanding its limitations and its

whims, was important enough to give interest to Schopenhauer's views, even

apart from the relative truth which they contain.

Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860) was the son of a merchant in Dantzic and

his wife Johanna, _née_ Trosiener, who subsequently became known as a

novelist. His early training was gained from foreign travel, but after the

death of his father he exchanged the mercantile career, which he had begun

at his father's request, for that of a scholar, studying under G.E. Schulze

in Göttingen, and under Fichte at Berlin. In 1813 he gained his doctor's

degree in Jena with a dissertation _On the Fourfold Root of the Principle

of Sufficient Reason_. Then he moved from Weimar, the residence of his

mother, where he had associated considerably with Goethe and had been

introduced to Indian philosophy by Fr. Mayer, to Dresden (1814-18). In the

latter place he wrote the essay _On Sight and Colors_ (1816; subsequently

published by the author in Latin), and his chief work, _The World as Will

and Idea_ (1819; new edition, with a second volume, 1844). After the

completion of the latter he began his first Italian journey, while his

second tour fell in the interval between his two quite unsuccessful

attempts (in Berlin 1820 and 1825) to propagate his philosophy from the

professor's desk. From 1831 until his death he lived in learned retirement

in Frankfort-on-the-Main. Here he composed the opuscule _On Will in

Nature_, 1836, the prize treatises _On the Freedom of the Human Will_ and

_On the Foundation of Ethics_ (together, _The Two Fundamental Problems

of Ethics_, 1841), and the collection of minor treatises _Parerga and

Paralipomena_, 2 vols., 1851 (including an essay "On Religion").

J. Frauenstädt has published a considerable amount of posthumous material

(among other things the translation, _B. Gracians Handorakel der

Weltklugheit_); the _Collected Works_ (6 vols., 1873-74, 2d ed., 1877, with

a biographical notice); _Lichtstrahlen aus Schopenhauers Werken_, 1861, 5th

ed. 1885; and a _Schopenhauer Lexicon_, 2 vols., 1871.[1]

[Footnote 1: From the remaining Schopenhauer literature (F. Laban has

published a chronological survey of it, 1880) we may call attention to the

critiques of the first edition of the chief work by Herbart and Beneke, and

that of the second edition by Fortlage (_Jenaische Litteratur Zeitung_,

1845, Nos. 146-151); J.E. Erdmann _Herbart und Schopenhauer, eine Antithese

(Zeitschrift für Philosophie_, 1851); Wilh. Gwinner, _Schopenhauers

Leben_, 1878 (the second edition of _Schopenhauer aus persönlichem

Umgang dargestellt_, 1862); Fr. Nietzsche, _Schopenhauer als Erzieher

(Unzeitgemässe Betrachtungen, Stück iii_., 1874); O. Busch, _A.

Schopenhauer_, 2d. ed., 1878; K. Peters, _Schopenhauer als Philosoph und

Schriftsteller_, 1880; R. Koeber, _Die Philosophie A. Schopenhauers_, 1888.

[The English reader may be referred to Haldane and Kemp's translation of

_The World as Will and Idea_, 3 vols., 1883-86; the translation of _The

Fourfold Root_ and the _Will in Nature_ in Bohn's Philosophical Library,

1889; Saunders's translations from the _Parerga and Paralipomena_, 1889

_seq_.; Helen Zimmern's _Arthur Schopenhauer, his Life and his Philosophy_,

1876; W. Wallace's _Schopenhauer_, Great Writers Series, 1890 (with a

bibliography by Anderson, including references to numerous magazine

articles, etc.); Sully's _Pessimism_, 2d ed., 1882, chap. iv.; and Royce's

_Spirit of Modern Philosophy_, chap, viii., 1892.--TR.]]

In regard to subjective idealism Schopenhauer confesses himself a

thoroughgoing Kantian. That sensations are merely states in us has long

been known; Kant opened the eyes of the world to the fact that the forms of

knowledge are also the property of the subject. I know things only as they

appear to me, as I represent them in virtue of the constitution of my

intellect; the world is my idea. The Kantian theory, however, is capable of

simplification, the various forms of cognition may be reduced to a single

one, to the category of causality or principle of sufficient reason--which

was preferred by Kant himself--as the general expression of the regular

connection of our representations. This principle, in correspondence with

the several classes of objects, or rather of representations--viz., pure

(merely formal) intuitions, empirical (complete) intuitions, acts of will,

abstract concepts--has four forms: it is the _principium rationis essendi,

rationis fiendi, rationis agendi, rationis cognoscendi_. The _ratio

essendi_ is the law which regulates the coexistence of the parts of space

and the succession of the divisions of time. The _ratio fiendi_ demands for

every change of state another from which it regularly follows as from its

cause, and a substance as its unchangeable substratum--matter. All changes

take place necessarily, all that is real is material; the law of causality

is valid for phenomena alone, not beyond them, and holds only for the

states of substances, not for substances themselves. In inorganic nature

causes work mechanically, in organic nature as stimuli (in which the

reaction is not equal to the action), and in animated nature as motives.

A motive is a conscious (but not therefore a free) cause; the law of

motivation is the _ratio agendi_. This serial order, "mechanical cause,

stimulus, and motive," denotes only distinctions in the mode of action, not

in the necessity of action. Man's actions follow as inevitably from his

character and the motives which influence him as a clock strikes the hours;

the freedom of the will is a chimera. Finally, the _ratio cognoscendi_

determines that a judgment must have a sufficient ground in order to be

true. Judgment or the connection of concepts is the chief activity of the

reason, which, as the faculty of abstract thought and the organ of science,

constitutes the difference between man and the brute, while the possession

of the understanding with its intuition of objects is common to both. In

opposition to the customary overestimation of this gift of mediate

representations, of language, and of reflection, Schopenhauer gives

prominence to the fact that the reason is not a creative faculty like the

understanding, but only a receptive power, that it clarifies and transforms

the content furnished by intuition without increasing it by new

representations.

Objective cognition is confined within the circle of our representations;

all that is knowable is phenomenon. Space, time, and causality spread out

like a triple veil between us and the _per se_ of things, and prevent a

vision of the true nature of the world. There is one point, however, at

which we know more than mere phenomena, where of these three disturbing

media only one, time-form, separates us from the thing in itself. This

point is the consciousness of ourselves.

On the one hand, I appear to myself as body. My body is a temporal,

spatial, material object, an object like all others, and with them subject

to the laws of objectivity. But besides this objective cognition, I have,

further, an immediate consciousness of myself, through which I apprehend

my true being--I know myself as willing. My will is more than a mere

representation, it is the original element in me, the truly real which

appears to me as body. The will is related to the intellect as the primary

to the secondary, as substance to accident; it is related to the body

as the inner to the outer, as reality to phenomenon. The act of will is

followed at once and inevitably by the movement of the body willed, nay,

the two are one and the same, only given in different ways: will is the

body seen from within, body the will seen from without, the will become

visible, objectified. After the analogy of ourselves, again, who appear to

ourselves as material objects but in truth are will, all existence is to

be judged. The universe is the _mac-anthropos_; the knowledge of our own

essence, the key to the knowledge of the essence of the world. Like our

body, the whole world is the visibility of will. The human will is the

highest stage in the development of the same principle which manifests its

activity in the various forces of nature, and which properly takes its name

from the highest species. To penetrate further into the inner nature of

things than this is impossible. What that which presents itself as will

and which still remains after the negation of the latter (see below) is in

itself, is for us absolutely unknowable.

The world is _per se_ will. None of the predicates are to be attributed to

the primal will which we ascribe to things in consequence of our subjective

forms of thought--neither determination by causes or ends, nor plurality:

it stands outside the law of causality, as also outside space and time,

which form the _principium individuationis_. The primal will is groundless,

blind stress, unconscious impulse toward existence; it is one, the one

and all, [Greek: en nai pan]. That which manifests itself as gravity, as

magnetic force, as the impulse to growth, as the _vis medicatrix naturae_,

is only this one world-will, whose unity (not conscious character!) shows

itself in the purposiveness of its embodiments. The essence of each thing,

its hidden quality, at which empirical explanation finds its limit, is its

will: the essence of the stone is its will to fall; that of the lungs is

the will to breathe; teeth, throat, and bowels are hunger objectified.

Those qualities in which the universal will gives itself material

manifestation form a series with grades of increasing perfection, a realm

of unchangeable specific forms or eternal Ideas, which (with a real value

difficult to determine) stand midway between the one primal will and

the numberless individual beings. That the organic individual does not

perfectly correspond to the ideal of its species, but only approximates

this more or less closely, is grounded in the fact that the stadia in the

objectification of the will, or the Ideas, contend, as it were, for matter;

and whatever of force is used up in the victory of the higher Ideas over

the lower is lost for the development of the examples of the former. The

higher the level on which a being stands the clearer the expression of its

individuality. The most general forces of nature, which constitute the raw

mass, play the fundamental bass in the world-symphony, the higher stages

of inorganic nature, with the vegetable and animal worlds, the harmonious

middle parts, and man the guiding treble, the significant melody. With the

human brain the world as idea is given at a stroke; in this organ the will

has kindled a torch in order to throw light upon itself and to carry out

its designs with careful deliberation; it has brought forth the intellect

as its instrument, which, with the great majority of men, remains in a

position of subservience to the will. Brain and thought are the same; the

former is nothing other than the will to know, as the stomach is will

to digest. Those only talk of an immaterial soul who import into

philosophy--where such ideas do not belong--concepts taught them when they

were confirmed.

Schopenhauer's philosophy is as rich in inconsistencies as his personality

was self-willed and unharmonious. "He carries into his system all the

contradictions and whims of his capricious nature," says Zeller. From the

most radical idealism (the objective world a product of representation) he

makes a sharp transition to the crassest materialism (thought a function of

the brain); first matter is to be a mere idea, now thought is to be merely

a material phenomenon! The third and fourth books of _The World as Will and

Idea_, which develop the aesthetic and ethical standpoint of their author,

stand in as sharp a contradiction to the first (poëtical) and the second

(metaphysical) books as these to each other. While at first it was

maintained that all representation is subject to the principle of

sufficient reason, we are now told that, besides causal cognition, there is

a higher knowledge, one which is free from the control of this principle,

viz., aesthetic and philosophical intuition. If, before, it was said that

the intellect is the creature and servant of the will, we now learn that in

favored individuals it gains the power to throw off the yoke of slavery,

and not only to raise itself to the blessedness of contemplation free from

all desire, but even to enter on a victorious conflict with the tyrant,

to slay the will. The source of this power--is not revealed. R. Haym _(A.

Schopenhauer_, 1864, reprinted from the _Preussische Jahrbücher_) was not

far wrong in characterizing Schopenhauer's philosophy as a clever novel,

which entertains the reader by its rapid vicissitudes.

The contemplation which is free from causality and will is the essence of

aesthetic life; the partial and total sublation, the quieting and negation

of the will, that of ethical life. It is but seldom, and only in the

artistic and philosophical genius, that the intellect succeeds in freeing

itself from the supremacy of the will, and, laying aside the question of

the _why_ and _wherefore_, _where_ and _when_, in sinking itself completely

in the pure _what_ of things. While with the majority of mankind, as with

animals, the intellect always remains a prisoner in the service of the will

to live, of self-preservation, of personal interests, in gifted men,

in artists and thinkers, it strips off all that is individual, and, in

disinterested vision of the Ideas, becomes pure, timeless subject, freed

from the will. Art removes individuality from the subject as well as from

the object; its comforting and cheering influence depends on the fact that

it elevates those enjoying it to the stand-point--raised above all pain

of desire--of a fixed, calm, completely objective contemplation of the

unchangeable essence, of the eternal types of things. For aesthetic

intuition the object is not a thing under relations of space, time, and

cause, but only an expression, an exemplification, a representative of

the Idea. Poetry, which presents--most perfectly in tragedy--the Idea of

humanity, stands higher than the plastic arts. The highest rank, however,

belongs to music, since it does not, like the other arts, represent single

Ideas, but--as an unconscious metaphysic, nay, a second, ideal world above

the material world--the will itself. In view of this high appreciation

of their art, it is not surprising that musicians have contributed a

considerable contingent to the band of Schopenhauer worshipers. A different

source of attraction for the wider circle of readers was supplied by the

piquant spice of pessimism.

If the purposiveness of the phenomena of nature points to the unity of the

primal will, the unspeakable misery of life, which Schopenhauer sets forth

with no less of eloquence, proves the blindness and irrationality of the

world-ground. To live is to suffer; the world contains incomparably more

pain than pleasure; it is the worst possible world. In the world of

sub-animal nature aimless striving; in the animal world an insatiable

impulse after enjoyment--while the will, deceiving itself with fancied

happiness to come, which always remains denied it, and continually

tossed to and fro between necessity and _ennui_, never attains complete

satisfaction. The pleasure which it pursues is nothing but the removal of

a dissatisfaction, and vanishes at once when the longing is stilled, to

be replaced by fresh wants, that is, by new pains. In view of the

indescribable misery in the world, to favor optimism is evidence not so

much of folly and blindness as of a wanton disposition. The old saying is

true: Non-existence is better than existence. The misery, however, is the

just punishment for the original sin of the individual, which gave itself

its particular existence by an act of intelligible freedom. Redemption from

the sin and misery of existence is possible only through a second act

of transcendental freedom, which, since it consists in the complete

transformation of our being, and since it is supernatural in its origin,

the Church is right in describing as a new birth and work of grace.

Morality presupposes pessimistic insight into the badness of the world and

the fruitlessness of all desire, and pantheistic discernment of the untruth

of individual existence and the identity in essence of all individuals

from a metaphysical standpoint. Man is able to free himself from egoistic

self-affirmation only when he perceives the two truths, that all striving

is vain and the longed-for pleasure unattainable, and that all individuals

are at bottom one, viz. manifestations of the same primal will. This is

temporarily effected in sympathy, which, as the only counterpoise to

natural selfishness, is the true moral motive and the source of all love

and justice. The sympathizer sees himself in others and feels their

suffering as his own. The entire negation of the will, however, inspiring

examples of which have been furnished by the Christian ascetics and

Oriental penitents, stands higher than the vulgar virtue of sympathy with

the sufferings of others. Here knowledge, turned away from the individual

and vain to the whole and genuine, ceases to be a motive for the will and

becomes a means of stilling it; the intellect is transformed from a motive

into a quietive, and brings him who gives himself up to the All safely

out from the storm of the passions into the peace of deliverance from

existence. Absence of will, resignation, is holiness and blessedness in

one. For him who has slain the will in himself the motley deceptive dream

of phenomena has vanished, he lives in the ether of true reality, which for

our knowledge is an empty nothingness ("Nirvana"), yet (as the ultimate,

incomprehensible _per se_, which remains after the annulling of the will)

only a relative nothingness--relative to the phenomenon.

Schopenhauer disposes of the sense of responsibility and the reproofs of

conscience, which are inconvenient facts for his determinism, by making

them both refer, not to single deeds and the empirical character, but to

the indivisible act of the intelligible character. Conscience does not

blame me because I have acted as I must act with my character and the

motives given, but for being what in these actions I reveal myself to be.

_Operari sequitur esse_. My action follows from my being, my being was my

own free choice, and a new act of freedom is alone capable of transforming

it.

If Schopenhauer is fond of referring to the agreement of his views with the

oldest and most perfect religions, the idea lies in the background that

religion,--which springs from the same metaphysical needs as philosophy,

and, for the great multitude, who lack the leisure and the capacity for

philosophical thought, takes the place of the former,--as the metaphysics

of the people, clothes the same fundamental truths which the philosopher

offers in conceptual form and supports by rational grounds in the garb of

myth and allegory, and places them under the protection of an external

authority. When this character of religion is overlooked, and that which

is intended to be symbolical is taken for literal truth (it is not

the supernaturalists alone who start with this unjust demand, but the

rationalists also, with their minimizing interpretations), it becomes the

worst enemy of true philosophy. In Christianity the doctrines of original

sin and of redemption are especially congenial to our philosopher, as well

as mysticism and asceticism. He declares Mohammedanism the worst religion

on account of its optimism and abstract theism, and Buddhism the best,

because it is idealistic, pessimistic, and--atheistic.

It was not until after the appearance of the second edition of his

chief work that Schopenhauer experienced in increasing measure the

satisfaction--which his impatient ambition had expected much earlier--of

seeing his philosophy seriously considered. A zealous apostle arose for

him in Julius Frauenstädt (died 1878; _Letters on the Philosophy of

Schopenhauer_, 1854; _New Letters on the Philosophy of Schopenhauer_,

1876), who, originally an Hegelian, endeavored to remove pessimism from the

master's system. Like Eduard von Hartmann, who will be discussed below,

Julius Bahnsen (died 1882; _The Contradiction in the Knowledge and Being

of the World, the Principle and Particular Verification of Real-Dialectic_,

1880-81; also, interesting characterological studies) seeks to combine

elements from Schopenhauer and Hegel, while K. Peters (_Will-world and

World-will_, 1883) shows in another direction points of contact with the

first named thinker. Of the younger members of the school we may name P.

Deussen in Kiel (_The Elements of Metaphysics_, 2d ed., 1890), and Philipp

Mainländer (_Philosophy of Redemption_, 2d ed., 1879). As we have mentioned

above, Schopenhauer's doctrines have exercised an attractive force in

artistic circles also. Richard Wagner (1813-83; _Collected Writings_, 9

vols., 1871-73, vol. x. 1883; 2d ed., 1887-88), whose earlier aesthetic

writings (_The Art-work of the Future_, 1850; _Opera and Drama_, 1851) had

shown the influence of Feuerbach, in his later works (_Beethoven_, 1870;

_Religion and Art_, in the third volume of the _Bayreuther Blätter_, 1880)

became an adherent of Schopenhauer, after, in the _Ring of the Nibelung_,

he had given poetical expression to a view of the world nearly allied to

Schopenhauer's, though this was previous to his acquaintance with the works

of the latter.[1] One of the most thoughtful disciples of the Frankfort

philosopher and the Bayreuth dramatist is Fried rich Nietzsche (born 1844).

His _Unseasonable Reflections_, 1873-76,[2] is a summons to return from the

errors of modern culture, which, corrupted by the seekers for gain, by the

state, by the polite writers and savants, especially by the professors

of philosophy, has made men cowardly and false instead of simple and

honorable, mere self-satisfied "philistines of culture." In his writings

since 1878[3] Nietzsche has exchanged the rôle of a German Rousseau for

that of a follower of Voltaire, to arrive finally at the ideal of the man

above men.[4]

[Footnote 1: Cf. on Wagner, Fr. v. Hausegger, _Wagner und Schopenhauer_,

1878. [English translation of Wagner's _Prose Works_ by Ellis, vol. i.,

1892.--TR.]]

[Footnote 2: "D. Strauss, the Confessor and the Author"; "On the Advantage

and Disadvantage of History for Life"; "Schopenhauer as an Educator"; "R.

Wagner in Bayreuth."]

[Footnote 3: _Human, All-too-human_, new ed., 1886; _The Dawn, Thoughts on

Human Prejudices_, 1881; _The Merry Science_, 1882; _So spake Zarathustra_,

1883-84; _Beyond Good and Evil_, 1886; _On the Genealogy of Morals_, 1887,

2d ed., 1887; _The Wagner Affair_, 1888, 2d ed., 1892; _Götzendämmerung, or

How to Philosophize with the Hammer_, 1889.]

[Footnote 4: Cf. H. Kaatz, _Die Weltanschauung Fr. Nietzsches, I. Kultur

und Moral_, 1892.]

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