KANT.
Immanuel Kant was born at Königsberg in Prussia, April 22, 1724. His
father an honest saddlemaker, and his mother a prudent and pious woman,
exerted a good influence upon him in his earliest youth. In the year
1740 he entered the university, where he connected himself with the
theological department, but devoted the most of his time to philosophy,
mathematics, and physics. He commenced his literary career in his
twenty-third year, in 1747, with a treatise entitled “_Thoughts
concerning the true estimate of Living Forces_.” He was obliged by his
pecuniary circumstances to spend some years as a private tutor in
different families in the neighborhood of Königsberg. In 1755 he took a
place in the university as “_privat-docent_,” which position he held for
fifteen years, during which time he gave lectures upon logic,
metaphysics, physics, mathematics, and also, during the latter part of
the time, upon ethics, anthropology, and physical geography. At this
period he adhered for the most part to the school of Wolff, though early
expressing his doubts in respect of dogmatism. From the publication of
his first treatise he applied himself to writing with unwearied
activity, though his great work, the “_Critick of pure Reason_,” did not
appear till his fifty-seventh year, 1781. His “_Critick of the practical
Reason_,” was issued in 1787, and his “_Religion within the bounds of
pure Reason_,” in 1793. In 1770, in his forty-sixth year, he was chosen
ordinary professor of logic and metaphysics, a chair which he continued
to fill uninterruptedly till 1794, when the weakness of age obliged him
to leave it. Invitations to professorships at Jena, Erlangen, and Halle,
were given him and rejected. As soon as he became known, the noblest and
most active minds flocked from all parts of Germany to Königsberg, to
sit at the feet of the sage who was master there. One of his
worshippers, Reuss, professor of philosophy at Würzburg, who abode but a
brief time at Königsberg, entered his chamber, declaring that he had
come one hundred and sixty miles[3] in order to see Kant and to speak
with him.—During the last seventeen years of his life he occupied a
little house with a garden, in a quiet quarter of the city, where his
calm and regular mode of life might be undisturbed. His habits of life
were very simple. He never left his native province even to go as far as
Dantzic. His longest journeys were to visit some country-seats in the
environs of Königsberg. Nevertheless, as his lectures upon physical
geography testify, he acquired by reading the most accurate knowledge of
the earth. He knew all of Rousseau’s works, of which _Emile_ at its
first appearance detained him for a number of days from his customary
walks. Kant died February 12, 1804, in the eightieth year of his life.
He was of medium stature, finely built, with blue eyes, and always
enjoyed sound health till in his latter years, when he became childish.
He was never married. His character was marked by an earnest love of
truth, great candor, and simple modesty.
Though Kant’s great work, the “Critick of pure Reason,” which created an
epoch in the history of philosophy, did not appear till 1781; yet had he
previously shown an approach towards the same standpoint in several
smaller treatises, and particularly in his inaugural dissertation which
appeared in 1770, “_Concerning the form and the principles of the
Sense-World and that of the Understanding_.” Kant himself refers the
inner genesis of his critical standpoint to Hume. “I freely confess,” he
says, “that it was David Hume who first roused me from my dogmatic
slumber, and gave a different direction to my investigations in the
field of speculative philosophy.” The critical view therefore first
became developed in Kant as he left the dogmatic metaphysical school,
the Wolffian philosophy in which he had grown up, and went over to the
study of a sceptical empiricism in Hume. “Hitherto,” says Kant at the
close of his Critick of pure Reason, “men have been obliged to choose
either a dogmatical direction, like Wolff, or a sceptical one, like
Hume. The critical road alone is yet open. If the reader has had
pleasure and patience in travelling along this in my company, let him
now contribute his aid in making this by-path into a highway, in order
that that which many centuries could not effect may now be attained
before the expiration of the present, and the reason become perfectly
content in respect of that which has hitherto, but in vain, engaged its
curiosity.” Kant had the clearest consciousness respecting the relation
of his criticism to the previous philosophy. He compares the revolution
which he himself had brought about in philosophy with that wrought by
Copernicus in astronomy, “Hitherto it has been assumed that all our
knowledge must regulate itself according to the objects; but all
attempts to make any thing out of them apriori, through notions whereby
our knowledge might be enlarged, proved, under this supposition,
abortive. Let us, then, try for once whether we do not succeed better
with the problems of metaphysics, by assuming that the objects must
regulate themselves according to our knowledge, a mode of viewing the
subject which accords so much better with the desired possibility of a
knowledge of them apriori, which must decide something concerning
objects before they are given us. The circumstances are in this case
precisely the same as with the first thoughts of Copernicus, who,
finding that his attempt to explain the motions of the heavenly bodies
did not succeed, when he assumed the whole starry host to revolve around
the spectator, tried whether he should not succeed better, if he left
the spectator himself to turn, and the stars on the contrary at rest.”
In these words we have the principle of a subjective idealism, most
clearly and decidedly expressed.
In the succeeding exposition of the Kantian philosophy we shall most
suitably follow the classification adopted by Kant himself. His
principle of classification is a psychological one. All the faculties of
the soul, he says, may be referred to three, which are incapable of any
farther reduction; knowing, feeling, and desire. The first faculty
contains the principles, the governing laws for all the three. So far as
the faculty of knowledge contains the principles of knowledge itself, is
it theoretical reason, and so far as it contains the principles of
desire and action, is it practical reason, while, so far as it contains
the principles which regulate the feelings of pleasure and pain, is it a
faculty of judgment. Thus the Kantian philosophy (on its critical side)
divides itself into three criticks, (1) Critick of pure _i. e._
theoretical reason, (2) Critick of practical reason, (3) Critick of the
judgment.
I. CRITICK OF PURE REASON.—The critick of pure reason, says Kant, is the
inventory in which all our possessions through pure reason are
systematically arranged. What are these possessions? When we have a
cognition, what is it that we bring thereto? To answer these questions,
Kant explores the two chief fields of our theoretical consciousness, the
two chief factors of all knowledge, the sensory and the understanding.
Firstly: what does our sensory or our faculty of intuition possess
apriori? Secondly: what is the apriori possession of our understanding?
The first of these questions is discussed in the transcendental
_Æsthetics_ (a title which we must take not in the sense now commonly
attached to the word, but in its etymological signification as the
“science of the apriori principles of the sensory”); and the second in
the transcendental _Logic_ or _Analytics_. Sense and understanding are
thus the two factors of all knowledge, the two stalks—as Kant expresses
it—of our knowledge, which may spring from a common root, though this is
unknown to us: the sensory is the receptivity, and the understanding the
spontaneity of our cognitive faculty; by the sensory, which can only
furnish intuitions, objects become _given_ to us; by the understanding,
which forms conceptions, these objects become _thought_. Conceptions
without intuitions are empty; intuitions without conceptions are blind.
Intuitions and conceptions constitute the reciprocally complemental
elements of our intellectual activity. What now are the apriori
principles respectively of our knowledge, through the sense and through
the thought? The first of these questions, as already said, is answered
by
1. THE TRANSCENDENTAL ÆSTHETICS.—To anticipate at once the answer, we
may say that the apriori principles of our knowledge through the sense,
the original forms of sensuous intuition, are space and time. Space is
the form of the external sense, by means of which objects are given to
us as existing outside of ourselves separately and conjointly; time is
the form of the inner sense, by means of which the circumstances of our
own soul-life become objects to our consciousness. If we abstract every
thing belonging to the matter of our sensations, space remains as the
universal form in which all the materials of the external sense must be
arranged. If we abstract every thing which belongs to the matter of our
inner sense, time remains as the form which the movement of the mind had
filled. Space and time are the highest forms of the outer and inner
sense. That these forms lie apriori in the human mind, Kant proves,
first, directly from the nature of these conceptions themselves; and,
secondly, indirectly by showing that without apriori presupposing these
conceptions, it were not possible to have any certain science of
undoubted validity. The first of these he calls the _metaphysical_, and
the second the _transcendental discussion_.
(1.) In the _metaphysical discussion_ it is to be shown, (_a_) that
space and time are apriori given, (_b_) that these notions belong to the
sensory (æsthetics) and not to the understanding (logic), _i. e._ that
they are intuitions and not conceptions, (_a_) That space and time are
apriori is clear from the fact that every experience, before it can be,
must presuppose already a space and time. I perceive something as
external to me; but this external presupposes space. Again, I have two
sensations at the same time and successively; this presupposes time,
(_b_) Space and time, however, are by no means conceptions, but forms of
intuition, or intuitions themselves. For in every universal conception
the individual is comprehended under it, and is not a part of it; but in
space and time, all individual spaces and times are parts of and
contained within the universal space and the universal time.
(2.) In the _transcendental discussion_ Kant draws his proof indirectly
by showing that certain sciences, universally recognized as such, can
only be conceived upon the supposition that space and time are apriori.
A pure mathematics is only possible on the ground that space and time
are pure and not empirical intuitions. Kant comprises the whole problem
of the Transcendental Æsthetics in the question—how are pure
mathematical sciences possible? The ground, says Kant, upon which pure
mathematics moves, is space and time. But now mathematics utters its
principles as universal and necessary. Universal and necessary
principles, however, can never come from experience; they must have an
apriori ground; consequently it is impossible that space and time, out
of which mathematics receives its principles, should be first given
aposteriori; they must be given apriori as pure intuitions. Hence we
have a knowledge apriori, and a science which rests upon apriori
grounds; and the matter simply resolves itself into this, viz.:
whosoever should deny that apriori knowledge can be, must also at the
same time deny the possibility of mathematics. But if the fundamental
truths of mathematics are intuitions apriori, we might conclude that
there may be also apriori conceptions, out of which, in connection with
these pure intuitions, a metaphysics could be formed. This is the
positive result of the Transcendental Æsthetics, though with this
positive side the negative is closely connected. Intuition or immediate
knowledge can be attained by man only through the sensory, whose
universal intuitions are only space and time. But since these intuitions
of space and time are no objective relations, but only subjective forms,
there is therefore something subjective mingled with all our intuitions,
and we can know things not as they are in themselves, but only as they
appear to us through this subjective medium of space and time. This is
the meaning of the Kantian principle, that we do not know things in
themselves, but only phenomena. But if on this account we should affirm
that all things are in space and time, this would be too much; they are
in space and time only for us,—all phenomena of the external sense
appearing both in space and in time, and all phenomena of the inner
sense appearing only in time. Notwithstanding this, Kant would in no
ways have admitted that the world of sense is mere appearance. He
affirmed, that while he contended for a transcendental ideality, there
was, nevertheless, an empirical reality of space and time: things
external to ourselves exist just as certainly as do we and the
circumstances within us, only they are not represented to us as they are
in themselves and in their independence of space and of time. As to the
question, whether there is any thing in the thing itself back of the
phenomena, Kant intimates in the first edition of his Critick, that it
is not impossible that the Ego and the thing-in-itself are one and the
same thinking substance. This thought, which Kant threw out as a mere
conjecture, was the source of all the wider developments of the latest
philosophy. It was afterwards the fundamental idea of the Fichtian
system, that the Ego does not become affected through a thing
essentially foreign to it, but purely through itself. In the second
edition of his Critick, however, Kant omitted this sentence.
The Transcendental Æsthetics closes with the discussion of space and
time, _i. e._ with finding out what is in the sensory apriori. But the
human mind cannot be satisfied merely with the receptive relation of the
sensory; it does not simply receive objects, but it applies to these its
own spontaneity, and attempts to think these through its conceptions,
and embrace them in the forms of its understanding. It is the object of
the _Transcendental Analytic_ (which forms the first part of the
_Transcendental Logic_), to examine these apriori conceptions or forms
of thought which lie originally in the understanding, as the forms of
space and time do in the intuitive faculty.
2. THE TRANSCENDENTAL ANALYTIC.—It is the first problem of the Analytic
to attain the pure conceptions of the understanding. Aristotle had
already attempted to form a table of these conceptions or categories,
but he had collected them empirically instead of deriving them from a
common principle, and had numbered among them space and time, though
these are no pure conceptions of the understanding, but only forms of
intuition. But if we would have a perfect, pure, and regularly arranged
table of all the conceptions of the understanding, or all the apriori
forms of thought, we must look for a principle out of which we may
derive them. This principle is the judgment. The general fundamental
conceptions of the understanding may be perfectly attained if we look at
all the different modes or forms of the judgment. For this end Kant
considers the different kinds of judgment as ordinarily pointed out to
us by the science of logic. Now logic shows that there are four kinds of
judgment, viz., judgments of
_Quantity._ _Quality._ _Relation._ _Modality._
Universal, Affirmative, Categorical, Problematical,
Plurative, Negative, Hypothetical, Assertive,
Singular. Illimitable. Disjunctive. Apodictic.
From these judgments result the same number of fundamental conceptions
or categories of the understanding, viz.:
_Quantity._ _Quality._ _Relation._ _Modality._
Totality, Reality, Substance and Possibility and
inherence, impossibility,
Multiplicity, Negation, Cause and Being and
dependence, not-being,
Unity. Limitation. Reciprocal action. Necessity and
accidence.
From these twelve categories all the rest may be derived by combination.
From the fact that these categories are shown to belong apriori to the
understanding, it follows, (1) that these conceptions are apriori, and
hence have a necessary and universal validity, (2) that by themselves
they are empty forms, and attain a content only through intuitions. But
since our intuition is wholly through the sense, these categories have
their validity only in their application to the sensuous intuition,
which becomes a proper experience only when apprehended in the
conceptions of the understanding.—Here we meet a second question; how
does this happen? How do objects become subsumed under these forms of
the understanding, which for themselves are so empty?
There would be no difficulty with this subsumption if the objects and
the conceptions of the understanding were the same in kind. But they are
not. Because the objects come to the understanding from the sensory,
they are of the nature of the sense. Hence the question arises: how can
these sensible objects be subsumed under pure conceptions of the
understanding, and fundamental principles (judgments apriori), be formed
from them? This cannot result immediately, but there must come in
between the two, a third, which must have some thing in common with
each, _i. e._ which is in one respect pure and apriori, and in another
sensible. The two pure intuitions of the Transcendental Æsthetics, space
and time, especially the latter, are of such a nature. A transcendental
time determination, as the determination of coetaneousness, corresponds
on the one side to the categories, because it is apriori, and on the
other side to the phenomenal objects, because every thing phenomenal can
be represented only in time. The transcendental time determination, Kant
calls in this respect the transcendental _schema_, and the use which the
understanding makes of it, he calls the transcendental _schematism_ of
the pure understanding. The schema is a product of the imaginative
faculty, which self-actively determines the inner sense to this, though
the schema is something other than a mere image. An image is always
merely an individual and determinate intuition, but the schema merely
represents the universal process of the imagination, by which it
furnishes for a conception a proper image. Hence the schema can only
exist in the conception, and never suffers itself to be brought within
the sensuous intuition. If, now, we consider more closely the schematism
of the understanding, and seek the transcendental time determination for
every category, we find that:
(1) _Quantity_ has for a universal schema _the series of time_ or
number, which represents the successive addition of one and one of the
same kind. I can only represent to myself the pure understanding
conception of greatness, except as I bring into the imagination a number
of units one after another. If I stop this process at its first
beginning, the result is unity; if I let it go on farther I have
plurality; and if I suffer it to continue without limit, there is
totality. Whenever I meet with objects in the phenomenal world, which I
can only apprehend successively, I am directed to apply the conception
of greatness, which would not be possible without the schema of _the
series of time_.
(2) _Quality_ has for its schema _the content of time_. If I wish to
represent to myself the understanding conception of reality, which
belongs to quality, I bring before me in thought a time filled up, or a
content of time. That is real which fills a time. If also I would
represent to myself the pure understanding conception of negation, I
bring into thought a void time.
(3) The categories of _relation_ take their schemata from _the order of
time_; for if I would represent to myself a determinate relation, I
always bring into thought a determinate order of things in time.
Substance appears as the persistence of the real in time; causality as
regular succession in time; reciprocal action as the regular
coetaneousness of the determinations in the one substance, with the
determinations in the other.
(4) The categories of _modality_ take their schema from _the whole of
time_, _i. e._ from whether, and how, an object belongs to time. The
schema of possibility is the general harmony of a representation with
the conditions of time; the schema of actuality is the existence of an
object in a determined time; that of necessity is the existence of an
object for all time.
We are thus furnished with all the means for forming metaphysical
fundamental principles (judgments apriori); we have, _firstly_,
conceptions apriori, and _secondly_, schemata through which we can apply
these conceptions to objects; for since every object which we can
perceive, falls in time, so must it also fall under one of these
schemata, which have been borrowed from time, and must consequently
permit the corresponding category to be applied to it. The judgments
which we here attain are synthetical. They are, corresponding to the
four classes of categories, the following: (1) All phenomena are,
according to intuition, extensive greatness, since they cannot be
apprehended otherwise than through space and time. On this principle the
axioms of intuition rely. (2) All phenomena are, according to sensation,
intensive greatness, since every sensation has a determined degree, and
is capable of increase and diminution. On this principle the
anticipations of perception rest. (3) The phenomena stand under
necessary time-determinations. They contain the substantial, which
abides, and the accidental, which changes. In reference to the change of
accidence, they are subject to the law of the following connection,
through the relation of cause and effect: as substances they are, in
respect of their accidences, in a constant reciprocal action. From this
principle spring the analogies of experience. (4) The postulates of
empirical thinking are contained in the principles: (_a_) that which
coincides with the formal conditions of experience, is possible, and can
become phenomenon; (_b_) that which agrees with the material conditions
of experience is actual, and is phenomenon; (_c_) that, whose connection
with the actual is determined according to the universal conditions of
experience, is necessary, and must be phenomenon. Such are the possible
and authorized synthetical judgments apriori. But it must not be
forgotten that we are entitled to make only an empirical use of all
these conceptions and principles, and that we must ever apply them only
to things as objects of a possible experience, and never to things in
themselves; for the conception without an object is an empty form, but
the object cannot be given to the conception except in intuition, and
the pure intuition of space and time needs to be filled by experience.
Hence, without reference to human experience, these apriori conceptions
and principles are nothing but a sporting of the imagination and the
understanding, with their representations. Their peculiar determination
is only to enable us to spell perceptions, that we may read them as
experiences. But here one is apt to fall into a delusion, which can
hardly be avoided. Since the categories are not grounded upon the
sensory, but have an apriori origin, it would seem as though their
application would reach far beyond the sense; but such a view is a
delusion; our conceptions are not able to lead us to a knowledge of
things in themselves (_noumena_), since our intuition gives us only
phenomena for the content of our conceptions, and the thing in itself
can never be given in a possible experience; our knowledge remains
limited to the phenomena. The source of all the confusions and errors
and strife in previous metaphysics, was in confounding the phenomenal
with the noumenal world.
Besides the categories or conceptions of the understanding, which have
been considered, and which are especially important for experience,
though often applied erroneously beyond the province of experience,
there are other conceptions whose peculiar province is only to deceive;
conceptions whose express determination is to pass beyond the province
of experience, and which may consequently be called transcendent. These
are the fundamental conceptions and principles of the previous
metaphysics. To examine these conceptions, and destroy the appearance of
objective science and knowledge, which they falsely exhibit, is the
problem of the _Transcendental Dialectics_ (the second part of the
transcendental logic).
3. THE TRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTICS.—In a strict sense, the reason is
distinguished from the understanding. As the understanding has its
categories, the reason has its ideas; as the understanding forms
fundamental maxims from conceptions, the reason forms principles from
ideas, in which the maxims of the understanding have their highest
confirmation. The peculiar work of the reason is, in general, to find
the unconditioned for the conditioned knowledge of the understanding,
and to unify it. Hence the reason is the faculty of the unconditioned,
or of principles; but since it has no immediate reference to objects,
but only to the understanding and its judgments, its activity must
remain an immanent one. If it would take the highest unity of the reason
not simply in a transcendental sense, but exalt it to an actual object
of knowledge, then it would become transcendent in that it applied the
conceptions of the understanding to the knowledge of the unconditioned.
From this transcending and false use of the categories, arises the
transcendental appearance which decoys us beyond experience, by the
delusive pretext of widening the domain of the pure understanding. It is
the problem of the transcendental logic to discover this transcendental
appearance.
The speculative ideas of the reason, derived from the three kinds of
logical conclusion, the categorical, the hypothetical, and the
disjunctive, are threefold.
(1.) The psychological idea, the idea of the soul, as a thinking
substance (the object hitherto of rational psychology).
(2.) The cosmological idea, the idea of the world as including all
phenomena (the object hitherto of cosmology).
(3.) The theological idea, the idea of God as the highest condition of
the possibility of all things (the object hitherto of rational
theology).
But with these ideas, in which the reason attempts to apply the
categories of the understanding to the unconditioned, the reason becomes
unavoidably entangled in a semblance and an illusion. This
transcendental semblance, or this optical illusion of the reason,
exhibits itself differently in each of the different ideas. With the
psychological ideas the reason perpetrates a simple paralogism, while
with the cosmological it finds itself driven to contradictory
affirmations or antinomies, and, with the theological, it wanders about
in an empty ideal.
(1.) _The psychological ideas, or the paralogisms of the pure reason._
Kant has attempted, under this rubric, to overthrow all rational
psychology as this had been previously apprehended. Rational psychology
has considered the soul as a thing called by that name with the
attribute of immateriality, as a simple substance with the attribute of
incorruptibility, as a numerically identical, intellectual substance
with the predicate of personality, as an unextended and thinking being
with the predicate of immortality. All these principles of rational
psychology, says Kant, are surreptitious; they are all derived from the
one premise, “I think;” but this premise is neither intuition nor
conception, but a simple consciousness, an act of the mind which
attends, connects, and bears in itself all representations and
conceptions. This thinking is now falsely taken as a real thing; the
being of the Ego as object is connected with the Ego as subject, and
that which is affirmed analytically of the latter is predicated
synthetically of the former. But in order to treat the Ego also as
object, and to be able to apply to it categories, it must be given
empirically, in an intuition, which is not the case. From all this it
follows that the proofs for immortality rest upon false conclusions. I
can, indeed, separate my pure thinking _ideally_ from the body; but
obviously, it does not follow from this that my thinking can exist
_really_ when separate from the body. The result which Kant derives from
his critick of rational psychology is this, viz., there is no rational
psychology as a _doctrine_ which can furnish us with any addition to our
self-knowledge, but only as a _discipline_, which places impassable
limits to the speculative reason in this field, in order that it may
neither throw itself into the bosom of a soulless materialism, nor lose
itself in the delusion of a groundless spiritualism. In this respect
rational psychology would rather remind us, that this refusal of our
reason to give a satisfactory answer to the questions which stretch
beyond this life, should be regarded as an intimation of the reason for
us to leave this fruitless and superfluous speculation, and apply our
self-knowledge to some fruitful and practical use.
(2.) _The Antinomies of Cosmology._
The cosmological ideas cannot be fully attained without the aid of the
categories. (1) So far as the quantity of the world is concerned, space
and time are the original _quanta_ of all intuition. In a quantitative
respect, therefore, the cosmological idea must hold fast to something
concerning the totality of the times and spaces of the world. (2) In
respect of quality, the divisibility of matter must be regarded. (3) In
respect of relation, the complete series of causes must be sought for
the existing effects in the world. (4) In respect of modality, the
accidental according to its conditions, or the complete dependence of
the accidental in the phenomenon must be conceived. When, now, the
reason attempts to establish determinations respecting these problems,
it finds itself at once entangled in a contradiction with itself.
Directly contrary affirmations can be made with equal validity in
reference to each of these four points. We can show, upon grounds
equally valid, (1) the _thesis_, the world has a beginning in time and
limits in space; and the _antithesis_, the world has neither beginning
in time nor limit in space. (2) The thesis: every compound substance in
the world consists of simple parts, and there exists nothing else than
the simple and that which it composes; and the antithesis: no compound
thing consists of simple parts, and there exists nothing simple in the
world. (3) The thesis: causality according to the laws of nature, is not
the only one from which the phenomena of the world may be deduced, but
these may be explained through a causality in freedom; and the
antithesis: there is no freedom, but every thing in the world happens
only according to natural laws. Lastly, (4) the thesis: something
belongs to the world either as its part or its cause, which is an
absolutely necessary being; and the antithesis: there exists no
absolutely necessary being as cause of the world, either in the world or
without it. From this dialectic conflict of the cosmological ideas,
there follows at once the worthlessness of the whole struggle.
(3.) _The ideal of the pure Reason or the idea of God._
Kant shows at first how the reason comes to the idea of a most real
being, and then turns himself against the efforts of previous
metaphysics to prove its valid existence. His critick of the arguments
employed to prove the existence of a God, is essentially the following.
(_a._) _The Ontological proof._—The argument here is as follows: it is
possible that there is a most real being; now existence is implied in
the conception of all reality, and hence, existence necessarily belongs
to the conception of the most real being. But, answers Kant, existence
is not at all a reality, or real predicate which can be added to the
conception of a thing, but it is the position of a thing with all its
properties. A thing, however, may lose its existence, and still be
deprived of none of its properties. Hence if it have any property, it
does not at all follow that it possesses existence. Being is nothing but
the logical copula, which, does not in the least enlarge the content of
the subject. A hundred actual dollars, _e. g._ contain no more than a
hundred possible ones; there is only a difference between them in
reference to my own wealth. Thus the most real being may with perfect
propriety be conceived of as the most real, while at the same time it
should only be conceived of as possible, and not as actual. It was
therefore wholly unnatural, and a simple play of school wit, to take an
idea which had been arbitrarily formed, and deduce from it the existence
of its corresponding object. Any effort and toil which might be spent
upon this famous proof is thus only thrown away, and a man would become
no richer in knowledge out of simple ideas than a merchant would
increase his property by adding a number of ciphers to the balance of
his accounts.
(_b._) _The Cosmological proof._—This, like the ontological, infers the
existence of an absolute being from the necessity of existence. If any
thing exist there must also exist an absolutely necessary being as its
cause. But now there exists at least I myself, and there must hence also
exist an absolutely necessary being as my cause. The last cosmological
antinomy is here brought in to criticise the argument at this stage. The
conclusion is erroneous, because from the phenomenal and the accidental
a necessary being above experience is inferred. Moreover, if we allow
the conclusion to be valid, it is still no God which it gives us. Hence
the farther inference is made: that being can alone be necessary which
includes all reality within itself. If now this proposition should be
reversed, and the affirmation made that that being which includes all
reality is absolutely necessary, then have we again the ontological
proof, and the cosmological falls with this. In the cosmological proof,
the reason uses the trick of bringing forth as a new argument an old one
with a changed dress, that it might seem to have the power of summoning
two witnesses.
(_c._) _The Physico-theological proof._—If thus neither conception nor
experience can furnish a proof for the divine existence, there still
remains a third attempt, viz., to start from a determinate experience,
and endeavor to see whether the existence of a supreme being can not be
inferred from the arrangement and condition of things in the world. Such
is the physico-theological proof, which starts from the evidences of
design in nature, and directs its argument as follows: there is
evidently design in the universe; this is extraneous to the things of
the world, and adheres to them only contingently; there exists therefore
a necessary cause of this design which works with wisdom and
intelligence; this necessary cause must be the most real being; the most
real being has therefore necessary existence.—To this Kant answers: The
physico-theological proof is the oldest, clearest, and most conformable
to the common reason. But it is not demonstration (apodictic). It
infers, from the form of the world, a proportionate and sufficient cause
of this form; but in this way we only attain an originator of the form
of the world, and not an originator of its matter, a world-builder, and
not a world-creator. To help out with this difficulty the cosmological
proof is brought in, and the originator of the form becomes conceived as
the necessary being lying at the ground of the content. Thus we have an
absolute being whose perfection corresponds to that of the world. But in
the world there is no absolute perfection; we have therefore only a very
perfect being; to get the most perfect, we must revert again to the
ontological proof. Thus the teleological proof rests upon the
cosmological, while this in turn has its basis in the ontological, and
from this circle the metaphysical modes of proof cannot escape.
From these considerations, it would follow that the ideal of a supreme
being is nothing other than a regulative principle of the reason, by
which it looks upon every connection in the world _as if_ it sprang from
an all-sufficient and necessary cause; in order that, in explaining this
connection, it may establish the rule of a systematic and necessary
unity, it being also true that in this process the reason through a
transcendental subreption cannot avoid representing to itself this
formal principle as constitutive, and this unity as personal. But in
truth this supreme being remains for the simply speculative use of the
reason, a mere but faultless ideal, a conception which is the summit and
the crown of the whole human knowledge, whose objective reality, though
it cannot be proved with apodictic certainty, can just as little be
disproved.
With this critick of the ideas of the reason there is still another
question. If these ideas have no objective significance, why are they
found within us? Since they are necessary, they will doubtless have some
good purpose to subserve. What this purpose is, has already been
indicated in speaking of the theological idea. Though not constitutive,
yet are they regulative principles. We cannot better order the faculties
of our soul, than by acting “_as if_” there were a soul. The
cosmological idea leads us to consider the world “_as if_” the series of
causes were infinite, without, however, excluding an intelligent cause.
The theological idea enables us to look upon the world in all its
complexity, as a regulated unity. Thus, while these ideas of the reason
are not constitutive principles, by means of which our knowledge could
be widened beyond experience, they are regulative principles, by means
of which our experience may be ordered, and brought under certain
hypothetical unities. These three ideas, therefore, the psychological,
the cosmological, and the theological, do not form an organon for the
discovery of truth, but only a canon for the simplification and
systematizing of our experiences.
Besides their regulative significance, these ideas of the reason have
also a practical importance. There is a sufficient certainty, not
objective, but subjective, which is especially of a practical nature,
and is called belief or confidence. If the freedom of the will, the
immortality of the soul, and the existence of a God, are three cardinal
principles, which, though not in any way contributing to our knowledge,
are yet pressed continually upon us by the reason, this difficulty is
removed in the practical field where these ideas have their peculiar
significance for the moral confidence. This confidence is not logical,
but moral certainty. Since it rests wholly upon subjective grounds, upon
the moral character, I cannot say it is morally certain that there is a
God, but only I am morally certain, &c. That is, the belief in a God and
in another world is so interwoven with my moral character, that I am in
just as much danger of losing this character as of being deprived of
this belief. We are thus brought to the basis of the PRACTICAL REASON.
II. CRITICK OF THE PRACTICAL REASON.—With the Critick of the Practical
Reason, we enter a wholly different world, where the reason richly
recovers that of which it was deprived in the theoretical province. The
essential problem of the Critick of the Practical Reason is almost
diametrically different from that of the critick of the theoretical
reason. The object of investigation in the critick of the speculative
reason, was,—how can the pure reason know objects apriori; in the
practical reason it is,—how can the pure reason determine apriori the
will in respect of objects. The critick of the speculative reason
inquired after the cognizableness of objects apriori: the practical
reason has nothing to do with the cognizableness of objects, but only
with the determination of the will. Hence, in the latter critick, we
have an order directly the reverse of that which we find in the former.
As the original determinations of our theoretical knowledge are
intuitions, so the original determinations of our will are principles
and conceptions. The critick of the practical reason must, therefore,
start from moral principles, and only after these are firmly fixed, may
we inquire concerning the relation in which the practical reason stands
to the sensory.
Freedom, says Kant, is given to us apriori as an inner fact, it is a
fact of the inner experience. While, therefore, the reason in the
theoretical field had only a negative result, because, when it would
attain to a true thing in itself it became transcendent, yet now in the
practical province it becomes positive through the idea of freedom,
because with the fact of freedom we have no need to go out beyond
ourselves, but possess a principle immanent to the reason. But why then
give a critick of practical reason? In order to determine the relation
of freedom to the sensory. Since the free will works through its acts
upon the sensory, there must be a point of contact between the two. This
is found in the sensuous motives of the will, which exist implanted in
it by nature, in the impulses and inclinations which, as the principle
of the empiric in opposition to the free or pure will, bear in
themselves the character of a want of freedom. Since, then, freedom
cannot be touched, a critick of the practical reason can only relate to
these empirical motives, in the sense of divesting these from the claim
of being exclusively the motives by which the will is determined. While,
therefore, in the theoretical reason the empirical element was immanent,
and the intelligible transcendent, the reverse is the case in the
practical reason, since here the empirical is transcendent, and the
intelligible immanent. It is the object of the Analytic to show the
relation of these two momenta of the will, and the highest moral
principle which springs therefrom, while it belongs to the Dialectic to
solve the antinomies which result from the contradiction of the pure and
empiric will.
(1.) _The Analytic._—Freedom, as the one constituent element which shows
itself in the activity of our will, is the simple _form_ of our actions.
The universal law binding the will, is that it should determine itself
purely from itself, independently of every external incitement. This
capacity of self-lawgiving, or self-determining, Kant calls the
_autonomy of the will_. The free autonomic will says to man: thou
oughtest! and since this moral ought commands to an unconditioned
obedience, the moral imperative is a _categorical imperative_. What is
it now which is categorically commanded by the practical reason? To
answer this question, we must first consider the empirical will, _i. e._
the nature-side of man.
The empirical, as the other constituent element of our will, first
produces a definite deed when it has filled the empty _form_ of action
with the _matter_ of action. The matter of the will is furnished by the
sensory in the desire of pleasure and the dread of pain. Since this
second principle of our actions does not find its seat in the freedom of
the will as the higher faculty of desire, but in the sensory, as the
lower faculty of desire, and a foreign law is thus laid upon the
will,—Kant calls it, in opposition to the autonomy of the reason, the
_heteronomy of the will_.
The categorical imperative is the necessary law of freedom binding upon
all men, and is distinguished from material motives, in that the latter
have no fixed character. For men are at variance in respect of pleasure
and pain, since that which is disagreeable to one may seem pleasant to
another, and if they ever agree, this is simply accidental.
Consequently, these material motives can never act the part of laws
binding upon every being, but each subject may find his end in a
different motive. Such rules of acting, Kant calls _maxims_ of the will.
He also censures those moralists who have exalted such maxims as
universal principles of morality.
Nevertheless, these maxims, though not the highest principles of
morality, are yet necessary to the autonomy of the will, because they
alone furnish for it a content. It is only by uniting the two sides,
that we gain the true principle of morality. To this end the maxims of
acting must be freed from their limitation, and widened to the form of
universal laws of the reason. Only those maxims should be chosen as
motives of action which are capable of becoming universal laws of the
reason. _The highest principle of morality_ will therefore be this: act
so that the maxims of thy will can at the same time be valid as the
principle of a universal lawgiving, _i.e._ that no contradiction shall
arise in the attempt to conceive the maxims of thy acting as a law
universally obeyed. Through this formal moral principle all material
moral principles which can only be of a heteronomic nature, are
excluded.
The question next arises—what impels the will to act conformably to this
highest moral law? Kant answers: the moral law itself, apprehended and
revered, must be the only moving spring of the human will. If an act
which in itself might be conformable to the moral law, be done only
through some impulse to happiness arising simply from an inclination of
the sense, if it be not done purely for the sake of the law, then have
we simply _legality_ and not _morality_. That which is included in every
inclination of the sense is self-love and self-conceit, and of these the
former is restricted by the moral law, and the latter wholly stricken
down. But that which strikes down our self-conceit and humbles us must
appear to us in the highest degree worthy of esteem. But this is done by
the moral law. Consequently the positive feeling which we shall cherish
in respect of the moral law will be reverence. This reverence, though a
feeling, is neither sensuous nor pathological, for it stands opposed to
these; but is rather an intellectual feeling, since it arises from the
notion of the practical law of the reason. On the one side as
subordination to law, the reverence includes pain; on the other side,
since the coercion can only be exercised through the proper reason, it
includes pleasure. Reverence is the single sensation befitting man in
reference to the moral law. Man, as creature of sense, cannot rest on
any inner inclination to the moral law, for he has ever inclinations
within him which resist the law; love to the law can only be considered
as something ideal.—Thus the moral purism of Kant, or his effort to
separate every impulse of the sense from the motives to action, merges
into rigorism, or the dark view that duty can never be done except with
resistance. A similar exaggeration belongs to the well-known epigram of
Schiller, who answers the following scruple of conscience—
The friends whom I love, I gladly would serve,
But to this inclination incites me;
And so I am forced from virtue to swerve
Since my act, through affection, delights me—
with the following decision:
The friends whom thou lov’st, thou must first seek to scorn,
For to no other way can I guide thee:
’Tis alone with disgust thou canst rightly perform
The acts to which duty would lead thee.
(2.) _The Dialectic._—The pure reason has always its dialectics, since
it belongs to the nature of the reason to demand the unconditioned for
the given conditioned. Hence also the practical reason seeks an
unconditioned highest good for that conditioned good after which man
strives. What is this highest good? If we understand by the highest good
the fundamental condition of all other goods, then it is virtue. But
virtue is not the perfect good, since the finite reason as sensitive
stands in need also of happiness. Hence the highest good is only perfect
when the highest happiness is joined to the highest virtue. The question
now arises: what is the relation of these two elements of the highest
good to each other? Are they analytically or synthetically connected
together? The former would be affirmed by most of the ancients,
especially by the Greek moral philosophers. We might allow with the
Stoics, that happiness is contained as an accidental element in virtue,
or, with the Epicureans, that virtue is contained as an accidental
element in happiness. The Stoics said: to be conscious of one’s virtue
is happiness; the Epicureans said: to be conscious of the maxims leading
one to happiness is virtue. But, says Kant, an analytic connection
between these two conceptions is not possible, since they are wholly
different in kind. Consequently there can be between them only a
synthetic unity, and this unity more closely scanned is seen to be a
causal one, so that the one element is cause, and the other effect. Such
a relation must be regarded as its highest good by the practical reason,
whose thesis must therefore be: virtue and happiness must be bound
together in a correspondent degree as cause and effect. But this thesis
is all thwarted by the actual fact. Neither of the two is the direct
cause of the other. Neither is the striving after happiness a moving
spring to virtue, nor is virtue the efficient cause of happiness. Hence
the antithesis: virtue and happiness do not necessarily correspond, and
are not universally connected as cause and effect. The critical solution
of this antinomy Kant finds in distinguishing between the sensible and
the intelligible world. In the world of sense, virtue and happiness do
not, it is true, correspond; but the reason as _noumenon_ is also a
citizen of a supersensible world, where the counter-strife between
virtue and happiness has no place. In this supersensible world virtue is
always adequate to happiness, and when man passes over into this he may
look for the actualization of the highest good. But the highest good
has, as already remarked, two elements, (1) highest virtue, (2) highest
happiness. The actualization demanded for the first of these elements
postulates the _immortality of the soul_, and for the second, _the
existence of God_.
(_a._) To the highest good belongs in the first place perfect virtue or
holiness. But no creature of sense can be holy: reason united to sense
can only approximate holiness as an ideal in an endless progression. But
such an endless progress is only possible in an endless continuance of
personal existence. If, therefore, the highest good shall ever be
actualized, the immortality of the soul must be presupposed.
(_b._) To the highest good belongs, in the second place, perfect
happiness. Happiness is that condition of a rational creature in the
world, to whom every thing goes according to his desire and will. This
can only occur when all nature is in accord with his ends. But this is
not the case; as acting beings we are not the cause of nature, and there
is not the slightest ground in the moral law for connecting morality and
happiness. Notwithstanding this, we _ought_ to endeavor to secure the
highest good. It must therefore be possible. There is thus postulated
the necessary connection of these two elements, _i. e._ the existence of
a cause of nature distinct from nature, and which contains the ground of
this connection. There must be a being as the common cause of the
natural and moral world, a being who knows our characters of
intelligence, and who, according to this intelligence imparts to us
happiness. Such a being is God.
Thus from the practical reason there issue the ideas of immortality and
of God, as we have already seen to be the case with the idea of freedom.
The reality of the idea of freedom is derived from the possibility of a
moral law; that of the idea of immortality is borrowed from the
possibility of a perfect virtue; that of the idea of a God follows from
the necessary demand of a perfect happiness. These three ideas,
therefore, which the speculative reason has treated as problems that
could not be solved, gain a firm basis in the province of the practical
reason. Still they are not yet theoretical dogmas, but as Kant calls
them practical postulates, necessary premises of moral action. My
theoretical knowledge is not enlarged by them: I only know now that
there are objects corresponding to these ideas, but of these objects I
can know no more. Of God, for instance, we possess and know no more than
this very conception; and if we should attempt to establish the theory
of the supersensible grounded upon such categories, this would be to
make theology like a magic lantern, with its phantasmagorical
representations. Yet has the practical reason acquired for us a
certainty respecting the objective reality of these ideas, which the
theoretical reason had been obliged to leave undecided, and in this
respect the practical reason has the primacy. This relation of the two
faculties of knowledge is wisely established in relation to the destiny
of men. Since the ideas of God and immortality are theoretically obscure
to us, they do not defile our moral motives by fear and hope, but leave
us free space to act through reverence for the moral law.
Thus far Kant’s Critick of the Practical Reason. In connection with this
we may here mention his _views of religion_ as they appear in his
treatise upon “_Religion within the Bounds of Pure Reason_.” The chief
idea of this treatise is the referring of religion to morality. Between
morality and religion there may be the twofold relation, that either
morality is founded upon religion, or else religion upon morality. If
the first relation were real, it would give us fear and hope as
principles of moral action; but this cannot be, and we are therefore
left alone to the second. Morality leads necessarily to religion,
because the highest good is a necessary ideal of the reason, and this
can only be realized through a God; but in no way may religion first
incite us to virtue, for the idea of God may never become a moral
motive. Religion, according to Kant, is the recognition of all our
duties as divine commands. It is revealed religion when I find in it the
divine command, and thus learn my duty; it is natural religion when I
find in it my duty, and thus learn the divine command. The Church is an
ethical community, which has for its end the fulfilment and the most
perfect exhibition of moral commands,—a union of those who with united
energies purpose to resist evil and advance morality. The Church, in so
far as it is no object of a possible experience, is called the invisible
Church, which, as such, is a simple idea of the union of all the
righteous under the divine moral government of the world. The visible
Church, on the other hand, is that which presents the kingdom of God
upon earth, so far as this can be attained through men. The requisites,
and hence also the characteristics of the true visible Church (which are
divided according to the table of the categories since this Church is
given in experience) are the following: (_a_) In respect of _quantity_
the Church must be total or _universal_; and though it may be divided in
accidental opinions, yet must it be instituted upon such principles as
will necessarily lead to a universal union in one single church. (_b_)
The _quality_ of the true visible Church is _purity_, as a union under
no other than moral motives, since it is at the same time purified from
the stupidness of superstition and the madness of fanaticism. (_c_) The
_relation_ of the members of the Church to each other rests upon the
principle of freedom. The Church is, therefore, a _free state_, neither
a hierarchy nor a democracy, but a voluntary, universal, and enduring
union of heart. (_d_) In respect of _modality_ the Church demands that
its constitution should not be changed. The laws themselves may not
change, though one may reserve to himself the privilege of changing some
accidental arrangements which relate simply to the administration.—That
alone which can establish a universal Church is the moral faith of the
reason, for this alone can be shared by the convictions of every man.
But, because of the peculiar weakness of human nature, we can never
reckon enough on this pure faith to build a Church on it alone, for men
are not easily convinced that the striving after virtue and an
irreproachable life is every thing which God demands: they always
suppose that they must offer to God a special service prescribed by
tradition, in which it only comes to this—that he is served.
To establish a Church, we must therefore have a statutory faith
historically grounded upon facts. This is the so-called faith of the
Church, In every Church there are therefore two elements—the purely
moral, or the faith of reason, and the historico-statutory, or the faith
of the Church. It depends now upon the relation of the two elements
whether a Church shall have any worth or not. The statutory element
should ever be only the vehicle of the moral. Just so soon as this
element becomes in itself an independent end, claiming an independent
validity, will the Church become corrupt and irrational, and whenever
the Church passes over to the pure faith of reason, does it approximate
to the kingdom of God. Upon this principle we may distinguish the true
from the spurious service of the kingdom of God, religion from
priestcraft. A dogma has worth alone in so far as it has a moral
content. The apostle Paul himself would with difficulty have given
credit to the dicta of the faith of the Church without this moral faith.
From the doctrine of the Trinity, _e. g._ taken literally, nothing
actually practical can be derived. Whether we have to reverence in the
Godhead three persons or ten makes no difference, if in both cases we
have the same rules for our conduct of life. The Bible also, with its
interpretation, must be considered in a moral point of view. The records
of revelation must be interpreted in a sense which will harmonize with
the universal rules of the religion of reason. Reason is in religious
things the highest interpreter of the Bible. This interpretation in
reference to some texts may seem forced, yet it must be preferred to any
such literal interpretation as would contain nothing for morality, or
perhaps go against every moral motive. That such a moral signification
may always be found without ever entirely repudiating the literal sense,
results from the fact that the foundation for a moral religion lay
originally in the human reason. We need only to divest the
representations of the Bible of their mythical dress (an attempt which
Kant has himself made, by moral explanation of some of the weightiest
doctrines), in order to attain a rational sense which shall be
universally valid. The historical element of the sacred books is in
itself of no account. The maturer the reason becomes, the more it can
hold fast for itself the moral sense, so much the more unnecessary will
be the statutory institutions of the faith of the Church. The transition
of the faith of the Church to the pure faith of reason is the
approximation to the kingdom of God, to which, however, we can only
approach nearer and nearer in an infinite progress. The actual
realization of the kingdom of God is the end of the world, the cessation
of history.
III. CRITICK OF THE FACULTY OF JUDGMENT.—The conception of this science
Kant gives in the following manner. The two faculties of the human mind
hitherto considered were the faculty of knowledge and that of desire. It
was proved in the Critick of pure Reason, that the understanding only as
faculty of knowledge included constitutive principles apriori; and it
was shown in the Critick of Practical Reason, that the reason possesses
constitutive principles apriori, simply in reference to the faculty of
desire. Whether now the _faculty of judgment_, as the middle link
between understanding and reason, can take its object—the feeling of
pleasure and pain as the middle link between the faculty of knowledge
and that of desire—and furnish it apriori with principles which shall be
for themselves constitutive and not simply regulative: this is the point
upon which the Critick of the Faculty of Judgment has to turn.
The faculty of judgment is the middle link between the understanding as
the faculty of conceptions, and the reason as the faculty of principles.
In this position it has the following functions: The speculative reason
had taught us to consider the world only according to natural laws; the
practical reason had inferred for us a moral world, in which every thing
is determined through freedom. There was thus a gulf between the kingdom
of nature and that of freedom, which could not be passed unless the
faculty of judgment should furnish a conception which should unite the
two sides. That it is entitled to do this lies in the very conception of
the faculty of judgment. Since it is the faculty of conceiving the
particular as contained under the universal, it thus refers the
empirical manifoldness of nature to a supersensible, transcendental
principle, which embraces in itself the ground for the unity of the
manifold. The object of the faculty of judgment is, therefore, the
conception of _design_ in nature; for the evidence of this points to
that supersensible unity which contains the ground for the actuality of
an object. And since all design and every actualization of an end is
connected with pleasure, we may farther explain the faculty of judgment
by saying, that it contains the laws for the feeling of pleasure and
pain.
The evidence of design in nature can be represented either subjectively
or objectively. In the first case I perceive pleasure and pain,
immediately through the representation of an object, before I have
formed a conception of it; my delight, in this instance, can only be
referred to a designed harmony of relation, between the form of an
object, and my faculty of beholding. The faculty of judgment viewed thus
subjectively, is called the _æsthetic faculty_. In the second case, I
form to myself at the outset, a conception of the object, and then judge
whether the form of the object corresponds to this conception. In order
to find a flower that is beautiful to my beholding, I do not need to
have a conception of the flower; but, if I would see a design in it,
then a conception is necessary. The faculty of judgment, viewed as
capacity to judge of these objective designs, is called the
_teleological faculty_.
1. CRITICK OF THE ÆSTHETIC FACULTY OF JUDGMENT. (1.) _Analytic._—The
analytic of the æsthetic faculty of judgment is divided into two parts,
the analytic of the _beautiful_, and the analytic of the _sublime_.
In order to discover what is required in naming an object _beautiful_,
we must analyze the judgment of taste, as the faculty for deciding upon
the beautiful. (_a_) In respect of quality, the beautiful is the object
of a pure, uninterested satisfaction. This disinterestedness enables us
to distinguish between the satisfaction in the beautiful, and the
satisfaction in the agreeable and the good. In the agreeable and the
good I am interested; my satisfaction in the agreeable is connected with
a sensation of desire; my satisfaction in the good is, at the same time,
a motive for my will to actualize it. My satisfaction in the beautiful
alone is without interest. (_b_) In respect of quantity, the beautiful
is that which universally pleases. In respect of the agreeable, every
one decides that his satisfaction in it is only a personal one; but if
any one should affirm of a picture, that it is beautiful, he would
expect that not only he, but every other one, would also find it so.
Nevertheless, this judgment of the taste does not arise from
conceptions; its universal validity is therefore purely subjective. I do
not judge that all the objects of a species are beautiful, but only that
a certain specific object will appear beautiful to every beholder. All
the judgments of taste are individual judgments. (_c_) In respect of
relation, that is beautiful in which we find the form of design, without
representing to ourselves any specific design. (_d_) In respect of
modality, that is beautiful which is recognized without a conception, as
the object of a necessary satisfaction. Of every representation, it is
at least possible, that it may awaken pleasure. The representation of
the agreeable awakens actual pleasure. The representation of the
beautiful, on the other hand, awakens pleasure necessarily. The
necessity which is conceived in an æsthetic judgment, is a necessity for
determining every thing by a judgment, which can be viewed as an example
of a universal rule, though the rule itself cannot be stated. The
subjective principle which lies at the basis of the judgment of taste,
is therefore a common sense, which determines what is pleasing, and what
displeasing, only through feeling, and not through conception.
The _sublime_ is that which is absolutely, or beyond all comparison,
great, compared with which every thing else is small. But now in nature
there is nothing which has no greater. The absolutely great is only the
infinite, and the infinite is only to be met with in ourselves, as idea.
The sublime, therefore, is not properly found in nature, but is only
carried over to nature from our own minds. We call that sublime in
nature, which awakens within us the idea of the infinite. As in the
beautiful there is prominent reference to quality, so, in the sublime,
the most important element of all, is quantity; and this quantity is
either greatness of extension (the mathematically sublime), or greatness
of power (the dynamically sublime). In the sublime there is a greater
satisfaction in the formless, than in the form. The sublime excites a
vigorous movement of the heart, and awakens pleasure only through pain,
_i. e._ through the feeling that the energies of life are for the moment
restrained. The satisfaction in the sublime is hence not so much a
positive pleasure, but rather an amazement and awe, which may be called
a negative pleasure. The elements for an æsthetic judgment of the
sublime are the same as in the feeling of the beautiful. (_a_) In
respect of quantity, that is sublime which is absolutely great, in
comparison with which every thing else is small. The æsthetic estimate
of greatness does not lie, however, in numeration, but in the simple
intuition of the subject. The greatness of an object of nature, which
the imagination attempts in vain to comprehend, leads to a supersensible
substratum, which is great beyond all the measures of the sense, and
which has reference properly to the feeling of the sublime. It is not
the object itself, as the surging sea, which is sublime, but rather the
subject’s frame of mind, in the estimation of this object. (_b_) In
respect of quality, the sublime does not awaken pure pleasure, like the
beautiful, but first pain, and through this, pleasure. The feeling of
the insufficiency of our imagination, in the æsthetic estimate of
greatness, gives rise to pain; but, on the other side, the consciousness
of our independent reason, for which the faculty of imagination is
inadequate, awakens pleasure. In this respect, therefore, that is
sublime which immediately pleases us, through its opposition to the
interest of the sense. (_c_) In respect of relation, the sublime suffers
nature to appear as a power, indeed, but in reference to which, we have
the consciousness of superiority. (_d_) In respect of modality, the
judgments concerning the sublime are as necessarily valid, as those for
the beautiful; only with this difference, that our judgment of the
sublime finds an entrance to some minds, with greater difficulty than
our judgment of the beautiful, since to perceive the sublime, culture,
and developed moral ideas, are necessary.
(2.) _Dialectic._—A dialectic of the æsthetic faculty of judgment, like
every dialectic, is only possible where we can meet with judgments which
lay claim to universality apriori. For dialectics consists in the
opposition of such judgments. The antinomy of the principles of taste
rests upon the two opposite elements of the judgment of taste, that it
is purely subjective, and at the same time, lays claim to universal
validity. Hence, the two common-place sayings: “there is no disputing
about taste,” and “there is a contest of taste.” From these, we have the
following antinomy. (_a_) Thesis: the judgment of taste cannot be
grounded on conception, else might we dispute it. (_b_) Antithesis: the
judgment of taste must be grounded on conception, else, notwithstanding
its diversity, there could be no contest respecting it.—This antinomy,
says Kant, is, however, only an apparent one, and disappears as soon as
the two propositions are more accurately apprehended. The thesis should
be: the judgment of taste is not grounded upon a definite conception,
and is not strictly demonstrable; the antithesis should be: this
judgment is grounded upon a conception, though an indefinite one, viz.,
upon the conception of a supersensible substratum for the phenomenal.
Thus apprehended, there is no longer any contradiction between the two
propositions.
In the conclusion of the æsthetic faculty of judgment, we can now answer
the question, whether the fitness of things to our faculty of judgment
(their beauty and sublimity), lies in the things themselves, or in us?
The æsthetic realism claims that the supreme cause of nature designed to
produce things which should affect our imagination, as beautiful and
sublime, and the organic forms of nature strongly support this view. But
on the other band, nature exhibits even in her merely mechanical forms,
such a tendency to the beautiful, that we might believe that she could
produce also the most beautiful organic forms through mechanism alone;
and that thus the design would lie not in nature, but in our soul. This
is the standpoint of idealism, upon which it becomes explicable how we
can determine any thing apriori concerning beauty and sublimity. But the
highest view of the æsthetical, is to use it as a symbol of the moral
good. Thus Kant makes the theory of taste, like religion, to be a
corollary of morality.
2. CRITICK OF THE TELEOLOGICAL FACULTY OF JUDGMENT.—In the foregoing, we
have considered the subjective æsthetical design in the objects of
nature. But the objects of nature have also a relation of design to each
other. The teleological faculty of judgment has also to consider this
faculty of design.
(1.) _Analytic of the Teleological Faculty of Judgment._—The analytic
has to determine the kinds of objective design. Objective, material
design, is of two kinds, external, and internal. The external design is
only relative, since it simply indicates a usefulness of one thing for
another. Sand, for instance, which borders the sea shore, is of use in
bearing pine forests. In order that animals can live upon the earth, the
earth must produce nourishment for them, etc. These examples of external
design, show that here the design never belongs to the means in itself,
but only accidentally. We should never get a conception of the sand by
saying that it is a means for pine forests; it is conceivable for
itself, without any reference to the conception of design. The earth
does not produce nourishment, because it is necessary that men should
dwell upon it. In brief, this external or relative design may be
conceived from the mechanism of nature alone. Not so the inner design of
nature, which shows itself prominently in the organic products of
nature. In an organic product of nature, every one of its parts is end,
and every one, means or instrument. In the process of generation, the
natural product appears as species, in growth it appears as individual,
and in the process of complete formation, every part of the individual
shows itself. This natural organism cannot be explained from mechanical
causes, but only through final causes, or teleologically.
(2.) _Dialectic._—The dialectic of the teleological faculty of judgment,
has to adjust this opposition between this mechanism of nature and
teleology. On the one side we have the thesis: every production of
material things must be judged as possible, according to simple
mechanical laws. On the other side we have the antithesis: certain
products of material nature cannot be judged as possible, according to
simple mechanical laws, but demand the conception of design for their
explanation. If these two maxims are posited as constitutive (objective)
principles for the possibility of the objects themselves, then do they
contradict each other, but as simply regulative (subjective) principles
for the investigation of nature, they are not contradictory. Earlier
systems treated the conception of design in nature dogmatically, and
either affirmed or denied its essential existence in nature. But we,
convinced that teleology is only a regulative principle, have nothing to
do with the question whether an inner design belongs essentially to
nature or not, but we only affirm that our faculty of judgment must look
upon nature as designed. We envisage the conception of design in nature,
but leave it wholly undecided whether to another understanding, which
does not think discursively like ours, nature may not be understood,
without at all needing to bring in this conception of design. Our
understanding thinks discursively: it proceeds from the parts, and
comprehends the whole as the product of its parts; it cannot, therefore,
conceive the organic products of nature, where the whole is the ground
and the prius of the parts, except from the point of view of the
conception of design. If there were, on the other hand, an intuitive
understanding, which could know the particular and the parts as
co-determined in the universal and the whole; such an understanding
might conceive the whole of nature out of one principle, and would not
need the conception of end.
If Kant had thoroughly carried out this conception of an intuitive
understanding as well as the conception of an immanent design in nature,
he would have overcome, in principle, the standpoint of subjective
idealism, which he made numerous attempts, in his critick of the faculty
of judgment, to break through; but these ideas he only propounded, and
left them to be positively carried out by his successors.