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p. 2.SJ 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 AS BASED ON 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE 
 
 ^ I Ji !i^of iA^''l'^^1> /^.i,iy^'/ a-k%»^ti^'-zJ. 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE. Tianslated by A. E. Keoeger. 
 With an Introduction by Prof. W. T. Hakeis. Lmge Post 8ix>. 10s. 6d. 
 
 [Phitosophical Library, 
 
 SCIENCE OF RIGHTS. Tianslated by A. E. Kkoegbr. With 
 an Introduction by Prof. W. T. Harris. Large Post 8vo, 12s, 6(2. 
 
 iPhilosophicaZ lAbrary. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF THE PRESENT AGE. Translated 
 
 by W. Smith. Post &vo. 6s. 
 
 POPULAR WORKS: The Nature of the Scholar, the Vocation of 
 the Scholar, the Vocation of Man, the Doctrine of Eeligion, Characteristics 
 of the Present Age, Outlines of the Doctrine of Knowledge. . With a Memoir 
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 [Philosophical Library. 
 
 London : Keg an Paul, Trench, TEtiBNEK & Co., Ltd. 
 
The Science op Ethics 
 
 AS BASED ON 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE. 
 
 TllANSLATED BY 
 
 A. E. KEOEGEE. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 The Hon. Dr. W. T. SAREIS, 
 
 COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 
 
 LONDON : 
 KEGAN PAUL, TEENCH, TEtJBNEE & CO., Ltd.^ 
 
 PATERNOSTER HOUSE, CHARING CROSS ROAD. 
 1897. 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE 
 
 rPHE present work is a translation by Mr. A. E. 
 
 -*- Kroeger from the original edition of Das System der 
 Sitfenlehre nach den Prindpien der Wissenschaflslehrc, 
 von Johann Gottlieb Fichte (Jena und Leipzig, 1798) , 
 together with an appendix containing a chapter on 
 Ascetism, or practical moral culture, translated from the 
 third volume of Fiehte's posthumous works, published in 
 Bonn, 1835, the same being a lecture given by Fiehte in 
 1798 as an appendix to The Science of Morals, published 
 in that year. This work, together with the J'hilosphy 
 of Bight, translated by Mr. Kroeger, and already pub- 
 lished by Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner & Co., 
 gives the entire system of ethics as it stood in Fiehte's 
 mind. The Science of Morals gives the subjective side to 
 ethics, and the Science of Eight s gives the objective side, 
 or the institutions founded to realize morals and protect 
 the individual against attacks upon his freedom. Thei ^ 
 family , civil societ y, and the State are institutions which I }, 
 make secure the moral freedom of man. 
 
 Fiehte's writings form the classics of introspection. 
 They furnish the best discipline for training in the 
 ability to seize the activities of the mind and become 
 conscious of their method. Anyone who reflects for 
 a few minutes is competent to bear testimony to the 
 difficulty in seizing the methods of mind-activity. It is 
 comparatively easy to think of objects belonging tg 
 
 A ? 
 
vi EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 nature; but the method of thinking eludes one, and it 
 is not easy to make an inventory of the facts of con- 
 sciousness. Kant made an epoch in the history of 
 philosophy by his searching investigation into the 
 subjective co-efficient of knowledge. He discovered 
 what belongs essentially to the constitution of percep- 
 tion and thought, and by this discovery was able to 
 make a large contribution to rational psychology. By 
 rational psychology one understands the necessary truths 
 which are founded on the nature of the mind itself. 
 Pichte was singularly gifted for the work of acquiring 
 Kant's methods and perfecting them. Almost every 
 writing that is to be found in his complete works is an 
 example of the Kantian method of introspection. There 
 is everywhere an attempt at a separation of the transient 
 and variable in the mental operation from the formal 
 and permanent activity. This formal and permanent 
 activity depends upon the logical structure of the mind, 
 and does not vary : it furnishes us with the universal and 
 necessary truths which lie at the basis of metaphysics, 
 psychology, and ethics. 
 
 There is no possible way of giving the results of 
 introspection in the form of objective observation. 
 Introspection is not a substitute for objective observa- 
 tion, nor is the latter a substitute for the former. The 
 two modes .of thinking involve different fundameiital 
 categories. Objective observation thinks in the form 
 of time and space and external causation. Introspec- 
 tion thinks in the form of self-activity, and its objects 
 take the shape of feelings, volitions, or ideas. While 
 objective observation sees things and dead results, intro- 
 spection thinks persons and living beings. It is evident 
 enough that a knowledge of nature as it is is not 
 completed without introspection, for this operation enters 
 as a factor in knowing all living beings, such as plants, 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. vii 
 
 or animals, and men. But this use of introspection is 
 unconscious. The Kantian and Fichtian introspection 
 is conscious and systematic, and those who have used 
 it much, or who have attained to a famihar acquaint- 
 ance with it, love to speak of it as scientific in a higher 
 sense of that word. Looking upon mathematics as 
 systematic and strictly scientific, they would claim for 
 the philosophic introspection a precision and strictness 
 which exceeds that of mathematics. 
 
 To anyone who obtains a first and superficial view 
 of the history of philosophy it seems absurd to think of 
 introspection as affording anything approaching the 
 character of scientific system. There seems to be endless 
 difference of opinion. Every thinker, however, arrives 
 at convictions of his own, although he combats the 
 convictions of his fellows. Those who attain to any 
 mastery of the critical system of Kant, with its higher 
 order of introspection, reach a series of necessary truths 
 belonging within the sphere of rational psychology. 
 Any candid student of the History of Philosophy, who 
 has given much time to understand the different systems, 
 will testify that the agreements of these thinkers are 
 numerous, and of such a character as to demonstrate the 
 claims made for the scientific character of the higher 
 introspection. In so far as the amateur follows the 
 mathematical demonstrations of Newton or Leibnitz, 
 he is forced into agreement; he sees the insight of 
 the mathematical author he is studying. So it is in 
 the higher introspection: sufficient care and attention 
 will discover to the reader the philosophical necessity 
 which the insight of a Kant or a Fichte had attained. 
 But just as there comes a point in the study of mathe- 
 matics where the mind of the student stops before a 
 realm of unexplored quantity, so there comes a place 
 in philosophical introspection where the student stops. 
 
viii EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 being unable to take the next step, until further strength 
 comes to him by further discipline. 
 
 With philosophy, as with mathematics, it is true 
 that the great positive results are attained in some 
 form even in the elementary stages of thinking. God, 
 freedom, and immortality, as objects of philosophy, are 
 reached in the ontology of Plato and Aristotle almost 
 with the first . speculative insight ; they are seen as 
 the necessary presupposition of the world. The same 
 results, too, are seen very soon as the logical condition 
 for the facts of introspection. One needs only to read 
 the first hundred pages of Kant's Critique of Pure, 
 Reason to see that his doctrine of time and space, which 
 makes them to be subjective forms of the mind, at the 
 same time establishes the transcendence of mind over 
 nature ; for space and time are the necessary conditions 
 for the existence of nature, and for all material existence, 
 and all manifestations of life in plants and animals. 
 But space and time themselves are forms in pure mind or 
 pure reason. Hence pure reason furnishes the ground 
 for time and space and for the realms of nature. 
 
 Perhaps the greatest merit of the present work is 
 Fichte's clear setting forth of the will in the first third 
 of the book. Fichte sees clearly the autonomy and 
 self-activity of the ego. He is able to describe this as a 
 fact of consciousness. To him it is clear that the will can 
 originate new determinations in the world. It is not a 
 link in a chain of causality necessarily determined by 
 what has gone before it. It can modify the chain of 
 causality in which it finds itself, and initiate new forms 
 of existence for which it alone is responsible. The idea 
 of responsibility is the key to all questions relating to 
 freedom. We are not responsible for that which we do 
 not originate. Human beings are conscious that they 
 are authors of deeds for which they are wholly respon- 
 
EDITOR'S'^ PREFACE. ix 
 
 sible. The institutions of civilization are founded on 
 this fact. Even those who are agnostics or sceptics in 
 regard to the freedom of the will, do not go so far as to 
 act on any other principle than that of freedom and 
 responsibility on the part of their fellow-men. They 
 are partly of the conviction that their mental difficulties 
 are merely subjective. They are unable to square their 
 iatelleetual conviction with their common-sense convic- 
 tion, and they are almost willing to admit that the 
 practical position is the correct one, and that the 
 intellectual sceptism is due to weakness of insight. 
 
 Kant shows in his Third Antimony that he admits 
 equal validity to the two categories — first, that of external 
 observation, and, second, that of higher introspection. 
 It was only necessary for another thinker to show that 
 the category of external observation has the foundation 
 of its validity in the category of higher introspection 
 to refute the Third Antimony. A causality of deter- 
 mination of succeeding events by prior events rests 
 for its validity upon a higher causality of freedom. 
 Without a causality that originates in self-determination 
 there could be no perseverance of causal influence, and 
 consequently no chain of causality. Everything would 
 belong to the side of effect, and nothing to the side of 
 cause. This would be self-contradictory, for without a 
 cause there could be no effect. 
 
 Kant found that he was obliged to acknowledge this 
 in his Critique of the Practical Reason, but he did not 
 see that the necessity belonged quite as. well to his 
 Critique of Pure Beason. To Fichte this became clear, 
 and hence the Wissenschaftslehre, especially in its 
 later forms, and hence, too, these works on the 
 science of rights and the science of morals. Fichte's 
 insight into freedom, as the condition both of the intellect 
 and of the will, is the foundation-stone of the subsequent 
 
X EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 philosophies of Schelling and Hegel, in which the German 
 movement initiated by Kant completes its union with 
 those of Plato and Aristotle. The psychology movement 
 comes into harmony with the ontology movement, both 
 reach the same highest principles, namely, the personality 
 of God, human freedom and responsibility, individual 
 immortality in an eternal church invisible. 
 
 W. T. HARRIS. 
 
 Washixoton, D.C, Deceviber, 1896. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Pages in J. G. Fichte, 
 Edition, Werter Band. 
 
 1-12 
 
 13-62 
 
 63-156 
 
 157-205 
 
 206-253 
 
 254-365 
 
 Inteobuotion . . ... 1 
 
 (Original pages 1-18.) 
 
 Part I. 
 
 Book I. Deduction of the Peinciplb op Mobality 17 
 (Original pages 1-70.) 
 
 Book II. Deduction op the Reality and Applica- 
 bility OE the Pkinciple op Morality 67 
 (Original pages 71-202.) 
 
 Part II. 
 
 Systematic Application op the Moral Pkinciple ; 
 OE, Morality in its more Ebsteicted Meaning. 
 
 Book III. Concerning the Formal Conditions op 
 
 the Morality of ouii Actions . . 167 
 (Original pages 203-271.) 
 
 Book IV. Concerning the Material Conditions 
 
 OF THE Morality op our Actions . 217 
 (Original pages 272-339.) 
 
 Book V. Theory of Duties . . . . 269 
 
 (Original pages 340-494.) 
 
 Appendix — On Ascbtism . ... 373 
 
 (Printed pages 469-550. 
 
 N.B. — The work is translated from the edition of 1798. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 §1- 
 
 How an objective can ever become a subjective, or how a 
 being can ever become an object of representation : this 
 curious change will never be explained by anyone who 
 does not find a point wherein the objective and subjective 
 are not distinguished at all, but are altogether one. l*row, 
 such a point is established by, and made the starting- 
 point of, our system. This point is the ^Egolwod, the 
 In telligeii ce^ Reason , or whatever it may be named. 
 
 This absolute identity of subject and object in the 
 Ego can be shown up only through mediation, and cannot 
 be found immediately as part of actual consciousness. 
 With the realization of actual consciousness, even though 
 it be self-consciousness, we always have the diremption. 
 Only in so far as I distinguish myself, the conscious, 
 from myself, the object of this consciousness, am I at all 
 conscious of myself. The whole mechanism of conscious- 
 ness rests upon the manifold views of this separation and 
 retmion of the subjective and the objective. 
 
 The subjective and objective are viewed as united , or 
 as harmoniou s, in the following manner : 
 
 First, as if the su b jective resulted from the objective , 
 as if the former conformed itself to the latter. This 
 view is called Knowledge, Cognition. It is the business 
 of theoretical philosophy to show how we come to assert 
 such a harmony. 
 
2 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Second, as if the objecti ve resulted from the subjective, 
 as if a being resultea trom a coneeption (from the con- 
 ception of a purpose). This view is that of a moral 
 activ ity. It is the business of practical philosophy to 
 show how we come to assert such a harmony. 
 
 The first point, namely, how we come to assert the 
 harmony of our representations with things, assumed to 
 have independent existence, has been entertained in 
 previous philosophy, but not the second point, namely, 
 how we come to think some of our conceptions as repre- 
 sentable, and in part actually represented in this very 
 same independent nature. It has been considered quite 
 a matter of course that we can influence nature. Every- 
 one knows that we do it every moment : it is a part of 
 consciousness ; so why trouble ourselves about it. 
 
 A 
 
 § 3- 
 
 The doctrine of morals is practical philosophy. As it 
 is the province of theoretical philosophy to represent the 
 system of necessarily thinking that our representations 
 conform to a being, so practical philosophy has to exhaust 
 the system of necessarily thinking that a being conforms 
 to results from our representations. Hence, ii becomes 
 our duty to enter upon this last-mentioned question, and 
 to show, first, how we come at all to consider some of our 
 representations as being the ground of a being ; and, 
 second, whence we get particularly that system of those 
 conceptions from which a being is absolutely to result. 
 
 The object of this Introduction is to gather into one 
 short statement what the subsequent investigation is to 
 elaborate in detail concerning this matter. 
 
 § 4- 
 I find myself as active in the sensuous world. From 
 this self-finding aU consciousness proceeds, and without 
 this consciousness of my activity there is no self- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 consciousness, as without this self-consciousness there is 
 no consciousness pf another, which I myself am not. 
 Whoever desires a proof of this assertion will find it in 
 the second book of this work. At present we merely 
 assert it as an immediate fact of consciousness for the 
 sake of connecting our argument to it ? 
 
 What manifoldness does this representation of my 
 activity contain, and how do I arrive at this manifold ? 
 
 Even when we admit, for the present, that the repre- 
 sentation of the matter, u pon which my activity is 
 directed, and which remains permanent and unchanged 
 by this activity ; and the representation of the gualities 
 of this matter, which my activity changes; and the 
 representation of this progressive change, which continues 
 until that form is realised which I purposed to realise — 
 even when we admit, I say, that all these representations, 
 which are involved in the representation of my activity, 
 are given me externally — although I confess T do not 
 ' understand what this may mean— even granted that it is 
 empirical perception, or whatever other words may be used 
 to express this not-thought, it nevertheless remains quite 
 clear that there is something else besides in the repre- 
 _sentation of my activity which cannot be externally 
 given, but must lie in me . which I cannot empirically 
 perceive or learn, but which I must know immediately, 
 namely, tha t / myself am to be the last ground of the 
 change whic h is to occur. 
 
 r am the ground of this change signifies: — that that 
 which knows of the change is that which effects it; the 
 subject of consciousness and the principle of causality are 
 one. But that which I assert, at the origin of all 
 knowing, of the subject itself of this knowing, or, in 
 other words, that which I know because I know at all ; 
 this I can have derived from no other knowing ; I know 
 it immediately ; I posit it absolute ly. 
 
 Hence, as soon~aR 1 know at all. I know that I am 
 active. The mere form of knowing generally contains 
 
4 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 the consciousness of myself as an active principle, and, 
 hence, posits myself as such. , 
 
 Now, it might well he that the same mere form of 
 knowing does alone — if not immediately, at any rate 
 through the just discovered immediate — contain all the 
 other manifold which is involved in the representation of 
 my activity, as mentioned before. If this should turn 
 out to be so, we should at once be relieved of the very 
 vexatious assumption that this manifold is given to iis 
 from without, since we should be able to explain it in 
 another and more natural manner. Such an explanation 
 would show how we come to ascribe to ourselves a 
 causality in an external sensuous world by deducing the 
 necessity of such an assumption immediately from the 
 pre-supposed consciousness. 
 
 We will attempt to decide whether such a deduction is 
 possible. Its plan is as follows : We have just now seen 
 what the representation of our causality involves. The 
 pre-supposition now is that the same is contained in, and 
 necessarily posited together with, consciousness in general. 
 Hence we proceed from the form of consciousness in 
 general, and commence our deduction with it; and our 
 investigation is closed if, in the course of our deduction, 
 we arrive again at the representation of our sensuous 
 activity from which we started. 
 
 § 5- 
 
 T posit myself as ^tive^ signifies according to the 
 above: I distinguish within myself a knowing and an 
 actual power, which, as such, does not k now, but is] but, 
 "a't th6 gaiae CiaieTlj agw both as absolutfiiv one . Bow do 
 I come to make the distinction ? How to determine the 
 distinguished in precisely this manner? Probably the 
 second question will find its answer in the answer to the 
 first question. 
 
 I do not know without knowing somewhat ; I do not 
 
INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 know of myself without becoming precisely through thi s 
 .^^gfei2g i^hat for mysel f; or, which is the same, 
 without distinguishing within" myself a subjective and 
 an objective. If a consciousness is posited, this distinc- 
 tion is posited; and without it, consciousness is not 
 possible at all. But this diremptio n posits immediately 
 likewise the relation of the dirempter, of the subjective 
 and objective. The latter, the objective, is to exist 
 through itself independently of the subjective; whereas 
 the former, the subjective, is to be dependent upon and 
 receive its material determination through the latter. 
 Being is to be through itself, whereas knowing is depen- 
 dent upon being; as such the relation must appear to 
 us, if anything appears to us, or if we have consciousness 
 at all. 
 
 The important insight thus obtained is the following : — 
 Knowing and being are not separated outside and inde- 
 pendent of consciousness, but are separated only in 
 consciousness, because this separation is a condition of 
 the possibility of all consciousness; and it is only 
 through this separation that both those separates arise. 
 There is no being except through the media tion of 
 consciou sness, a s there is likewise no knowing, as a 
 _mere^ subjective knowing having its being for its objac t. 
 except throug h^ (^ ffns^iousness.^ Even if I try merely 
 io say ''"1," am I already compelled to separate ; but 
 ' likewise also does this separation arise only through 
 my saying thus, " I." The one, which is separated, and 
 which is therefore at the basis of all consciousness, and 
 in consequence whereof the subjective and objective in 
 consciousness are immediately posited as one, is absolutely 
 = X, and can, as such simple one, arise in no manner 
 in consciousness. 
 
 We discover here an immediate agreeme nt between 
 the subjective and objective. ^ i know of mysel f because 
 I am, and I am because I k now of my self. ^ it is possible 
 that all other agreements of bocn — whetner the objective 
 
6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 is to result from the subjective, as when the conception 
 of a purpose is realized, or whether the subjective is to 
 result from the objective, as when the conception of 
 cognition is applied — are but particular views of that 
 one immediate harmony. If this could really be proven, 
 it would also prove that everything which may occur 
 in consciousness is posited through the mere form of 
 consciousness, since that immediate diremption and har- 
 mony is the form of consciousness itself, and since those 
 other diremptions and harmonies exhaust the total 
 content of all possible consciousness. How this may 
 be, we shall doubtless see in the course of our investi- 
 gation. 
 
 §6. 
 
 I posit myself as active, as described above, signifies 
 not : I ascribe to myself activity in general ; but I 
 ascribe to mysel f a determined activity, i.e., this activity 
 and no other. 
 
 We have seen how the subjective, through its mere 
 separation from the objective, becomes quite dependent 
 and necessitated ; and the ground of this, its material 
 determinateness, of its determinateness in regard to the 
 what thereof, does not lie in itself, but in the objective. 
 The subjective appears as a mere cognizing of a some- 
 thing which it perceives, but on no account as an active 
 producing of the representation. Thus it must, indeed, 
 be, at the origin of all consciousness, where the separation 
 of the subjective and objective is complete. But in the 
 progress of consciousness the subjective also appears, 
 through the mediation of a synthesis, as free and deter- 
 mining, for it appears as abstracting ; in which case it 
 may very well at least freely describe, though not 
 perceive, activity in general. At present, however, we 
 stand at the origin of all consciousness, and the repre- 
 sentation which we have to investigate is therefore 
 necessarily a perception ; i.e., in this representation the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 subjective appears as altogether and completely deter- 
 mined through an external other. 
 
 Now what does this signify ? A determined activity. 
 And how does it become a determined activity ? Solely 
 through opposing to it a resistance, opposinp' it thrmig h 
 jdeal activity: ; in other words, solely through thinking 
 and imagining a resistance as opposed to it. Wherever 
 an djD so far as you perceive activity, you also perceive 
 necessanTy resistance . JSTo appearance of resi.stance^ nn | 
 appearance of activity. 
 
 Let not this be overlooked. That such a resistance 
 does appear is purely result of the laws of consciousness, 
 and hence the resistance may properly be regarded as 
 a result of those laws. The law itself, which gives rise 
 to it for us, may be deduced from the necessary sepa- 
 ration of a subjective from an objective, and from the 
 absolutely posited relation of the former to the latter, 
 as established previously. This is the ground why the 
 consciousn ess of th e resistance i s a m ediated, and not"" 
 an immediate consciousness. It Ts mediated thro"ugli 
 this, that 1 must regard myself as merely a cognizing 
 subject, and in this cognition utterly dependent upon 
 the objectivity. 
 
 Next, let tiie characteristics of this representation of 
 a resistance be developed in their genesis. This resist- 
 ance is represented as the opposite of activity; h ence, as 
 something, whic h, merelj "t's. ^t ..does not arf. " as some- 
 thing quiet and dead, which merely strives to remain in 
 existence, and which, therefore, does certainly resist (with 
 a measure of power to remain what it is) all influences 
 of freedom upon it, but which can in no wise attack 
 freedom upon its own ground; in short, mere objectivity. 
 Such objectivity is called with its familiar name, matter. 
 
 Again, all consciousness is conditioned by the con- 
 sciousness of myself. This, again, is conditioned by the 
 perception of my activity, and this again is conditioned 
 by the positing of a resistance as such. Hence this 
 
8 THE SCIENCE OP ETHICS. 
 
 resistance, with the characteristic just ascribed to it, 
 extends necessarily throughout the whole sphere of my 
 consciousness, and remains along with it. Nor can 
 freedom ever be posited as having the slightest influence 
 over this resistance, because if it had, itself and all con- 
 sciousness and all being would become annihilated. 
 
 The representation of a matter, which cannot be in any 
 manner changed through my causality, and which we 
 discovered above to be contained in the perception of our 
 activity, has thus been deduced from the laws of con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 One of our chief questions has been answered, namely, 
 how we come to assume a subjective, a conception which 
 is to result from, and to be determined by, an objective, 
 by a being. This assumption is, as we have shown, the 
 necessary consequence of our separating in our conscious- 
 ness a subjective from an objective, and yet, at the same 
 time, regarding both as one ; and the determined relation, 
 namely, that subjective is to be determined by the 
 objective, and not vice, versd, arises from the absolutely 
 posited relation of the subjective as such to the objective 
 as such. And thus the principle and the problem of all 
 theoretical philosophy have been deduced. 
 
 §7- 
 
 I posit myself as active. We have said enough con- 
 cerning the subjective and objective in this positing, their 
 diremption, their union, and their original relation to 
 each other. But we have not yet investigated the predi- 
 cate which is attached to the one and inseparable Ego. 
 What does it signify to be active ? and what do I really 
 posit when I ascribe activity to myself ? 
 
 The Rcbp.Tna, of activity in general, as an (^ilityj 
 mobility, or whatever words you may choose to express 
 it in, we presuppose in the reader, since it can be demon - 
 strated to no one, who does not find it in himself. This 
 
INTRODUCTION. g 
 
 internal agility cannot in any way be ascriLed to the 
 objective as such, as we have just seen, for the objective 
 is and remains only what and as it is. This agility, so 
 far as the form of its activity is concerned, appertains 
 only to the subjective, to the intelligence as such. I say 
 so far as the form is concerned, for, we have shown 
 above that the material or the content of the deter- 
 minedness is to be in another relation determined 
 through the objective. Representing, in its form, is 
 therefore contemplated as freest internal motion. Now 
 I, the one inseparable Ego, am to be active, and that, 
 which acts upon the object, is doubtless this objective 
 in me, the real power. Considering all this, my activity 
 can also be posited as proceeding from the subjective and 
 determining the objective ; in short, as a causality of the 
 mere conception upon the objective, which conception 
 cannot in so far be again determined through another 
 objective, but is determined absolutely in and through 
 itself. 
 
 We have thus also replied to our second question — 
 how do I come to assume that an objective results from 
 a subjective, a being from a conception ? and in doing so 
 have deduced the principle of all practical philosophy. 
 For this assumption arises because I a m absolutely 
 bound to posit myself as actiyej and" because, naving 
 distinguished within myself a subjective and an objective, 
 I cannot posit this activity in any other manner than as 
 a causality of the conception. Absolute activity is 
 the'one predicate^ which immediately and absolutely 
 "belongs to me; and causality^ through the conception , is 
 the only possible manifestation oT'^this "acEvil^r m'ade 
 necessary by the laws of consciousness. In this latter 
 form absolute activity is also called freedom. Freedom, is 
 the sensuous representation of self-activity, and arises 
 Through the opposition of ourselves as intelligence to the 
 determinateness of the object, in so far as we relate the 
 latter to ourselves. 
 
lo THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 I posit myself as fre e in so far a s I explain a sensuous 
 acting or a beiiig th rough my conception, whichconception 
 Ts then called the conception of a purpose. Hence the 
 fact which was assumed above, that I find myself active, 
 is only possible on condition, that I presuppose a concep- 
 tion originated through myself, which my causality is to 
 accept as a guide, and to be as well formaliter based upon 
 as materialiter determined by. We thus obtain a new 
 characteristic to those already mentioned as involved in 
 the representation of our activity, a characteristic which 
 it was not necessary to point out before, and which we 
 have here, at the same time, deduced. But it is to be 
 well observed, that this previous originating of a concep - 
 tion is only posited, and pertains only to the sensuous 
 view of our self-activity. 
 
 The conce ption^ from which an objective determination 
 is to reslut, and which we call the conception of a purpose, 
 is not itself determined again by an objective, but is 
 absolutely determined through itself. For if it were 
 otherwise I should no t be absolutely active, nor im- 
 mediately posited as almduteiy 'active,Tut "Tny activity 
 would be dependent upon, and mediated through, an 
 objective being, which is against our presupposition. It 
 is true, that in the course of connected consciousness the 
 conception of a purpose appears as cond itioned — no t 
 determined — through the co gnition 'd'f^some objecti ve 
 being. ^ -but this view cannot be entertained here, at 
 "the origin of all consciousness, where we take our 
 starting-point from activity, and where this activity is 
 absolute. 
 
 The most important result of this consideration is as 
 follows: — There is an absolute independence and self- 
 determination of the mere conception by virtue of the 
 causality, which the subjective has upon the objective; 
 precisely as we asserted an absolute and self- posited 
 being of the material substance in consequence of the 
 causality, which the objective has upon the subjective. 
 
INTRODUCTION. ii 
 
 Both ends of the whole world of reason have thus been 
 connected by us. 
 
 (Whosoever has but properly seized this self-determin- 
 ing of the conception, has thereby attained the most 
 perfect insight into our whole system, and, as a conse- 
 quence, an unshakeable conviction of its truth.) 
 
 § 8- 
 
 From the conception there results an objective. How 
 is this possible, and what can it signify ? Nothing, but 
 that the conception itself should appear to me as some- 
 thing objective. Now the conception of a purpose, 
 regarded objectively, is called a willing, and the repre- 
 sentation of a will is nothing but this necessary view 
 of the conception of a purpose posited, if only for the 
 sake of becoming conscious of our activity. The spiritual 
 within me, viewed immediately as the principle of a 
 causality, becomes to me a will. 
 
 But it is / who am to have causality upon the sub- 
 stance or matter, which we have described in its origin; 
 and it is impossible for me to think a causality upon that 
 matter except through what is likewise matter itself. 
 Hence in so far as I think, and must think, myself as 
 having causality upon this matter, I become matter for 
 myself, and in so far as I thus regard myself, I call 
 myself a material tody. I, regarded as principle of a 
 causality in the world of matter, am an articulated body ; 
 and the representation of my body itself is nothing else 
 than the representation of myself as a cause in the world 
 of matter ; hence mediately as simply a certain view I 
 take of my absolute activity. 
 
 Nevertheless, the will is to have causality — and im- 
 mediate causality— upon my body, and only so far as 
 this immediate causality of the will extends does the 
 body, as tool, or the articulation extend. Hence the will 
 is also separated and distinguished from the body, and 
 
12 THn SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 appears, therefore, as not the same as the body. But 
 this diremption and distinction is nothing but another 
 separation of the subjective and objective, or, still more 
 definite, a familiar vievi^ of this original separation. The 
 will, in this relation, is the subjective, and the body the 
 objective. 
 
 § 9- 
 
 But what is my actual causality, what is the change 
 which it is to produce in the sensuous world, and what 
 is the sensuous world which is changeable through this 
 causality ? 
 
 If a subjective within me is to change into an objective, 
 a conception of a purpose into a resolve of the will, and 
 this again into a certain modification of my body, I 
 evidently represent myself to myself as having changed. 
 But my final appurtenance, i.e., my substantial body, is 
 to be connected with the whole material world, and 
 hence, as it is regarded as having changed, the world is 
 necessarily also so regarded. 
 
 The thing, which my causality can change, or the 
 qiMlitativeness of Nature, is precisely the same as the 
 unchangeable thing, or mere matter. Both are the same, 
 only viewed from different sides, precisely as the causality 
 which the conception exercises upon the objective ap- 
 peared to us, when viewed from two sides, as will and as 
 body. The changeable thing is Nature, when viewed 
 subjectively, and, as connected with me, the active intelli- 
 gence ; the unchangeable thing is that same Nature, when 
 viewed altogether and merely objectively. 
 
 All that was involved in the perception of our 
 sensuous causality has now been deduced from the laws 
 of consciousness, as was required, and we find as the last 
 link of our conclusions the very same from which we 
 started. Our investigation has therefore returned into 
 itself, and is closed. 
 
 Its result is, in short, as follows : — The only a bsolute. 
 
INTR OD UCTION. 1 3 
 
 upon which all p -nnsfinnanpRR a.nrl all being is based, i s 
 . _pure activity. This activity appears by virtue of the 
 laws of consciousness, and particularly of the funda- 
 mental law of consciousness, that the active can only 
 be considered as united subject and object (as Ego). 
 As a causality upon something outside of me, all which is 
 contained in this appearance — from the end or purpose 
 absolutely posited through myself to the raw matter of 
 the world — are but mediating links of this appearance, 
 and hence are themselves appearances. The only purely 
 true is my self-determination. 
 
PART I. 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF MORALITY 
 
BOOK FIEST. 
 
 DEDUCTION OF THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 
 
 Peeliminaey. 
 
 It is asserted that there manifests itself in the soul 
 of man an impulsion to do certain things utterly 
 independent of external purposes, merely for the sake 
 of doing them; and, on the other hand, to leave undone 
 other things equally independent of external purposes, 
 and merely for the sake of leaving them undone. The 
 condition of man, in so far as such an impulsion is 
 necessarily to manifest itself within him, as sure as 
 he is a rational being, is called his moral natu re. 
 
 .The power of cognition, which belongs to man, may 
 relate in a twofold manner to this, his moral nature. 
 
 Firstly. When that impulsion is discovered by him 
 in his self observation- as a fact — and it certainly is 
 assumed that each rational being will thus discover it, 
 if he but closely observes himself; man may simply 
 accept it as such fact, may rest content to have 
 discovered that it is thus, without inquiring in what 
 manner and from what grounds it becomes thus. Per- 
 haps he may even freely resolve, from inclination, to 
 place unconditioned faith in the requirements of that 
 impulsion, and actually to think, as his highest destina- 
 tion, what that impulsion represents to him as such; 
 nay, perhaps even to act constantly in conformity with 
 this faith. Thus there arises within him the_coinmon, 
 or ordinary, knowledge, as well of his moral nature in 
 
 C 17 
 
1 8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 general, as also— if he carefully attends to the dictates 
 of his conscience in the particular phases of his life — 
 of his particular duties; which common knowledge is 
 possible from the standpoint of ordinary consciousnes s, and 
 is sufficient for the generation of moral sentiments and 
 a moral behaviour. 
 
 Secondly. But man may also not rest content with 
 the immediate perception ; he may desire to know the 
 grounds of what he has thus discovered; he may not 
 be content with a partical, but desire a genetical know- 
 ledge^or he may desire to know not only that such an 
 Impulsion exists within him, but likewise how it arises 
 within him. If he obtains this knowledge, it will be 
 a speculative knowled ge, and to attain it he must rise 
 from the standpoint of ordinary consciousness to a 
 higher standpoint. 
 
 Now, how is this problem to be solved, or how are the 
 ctrounds of the moral nature of man to be discovered? 
 The only matter which excludes all asking for a higher 
 
 I ground is this : that we are we, or, in other words, our 
 Egoness, or Eationality, which latter wo rd, however, is 
 not nearly as expressively correct as the former. ' Every- 
 " thing else, whether it be withm us, like the irdpulsion 
 above mentioned, or for us, like the external world which 
 we assume, is only thus within or for us because we are 
 it, as can indeed be easily proven in general, whereas 
 the particular insight into the manner in which some- 
 thing connects within, or for us, that rationality, is 
 precisely the speculative and scientific knowledge of the 
 grounds of this something whereof we speak. The 
 development of these grounds being deduced, a s it is, 
 from the highest"^and j ,b solute principle of Egoness and 
 sho"wn to be a necessary result thereof, is a deduction. It 
 is therefore our present task to furnish a deduction of the 
 moral nature or principle in man. 
 
 Instead of enumerating at length the advantages of 
 such a deduction, it is sufficient to remark that only 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 19 
 
 through it does a science of morality arise. And science 
 — no matter whereof — is end in itself. 
 
 In relation to a scientific complete phi losophy, the 
 present science of morality . is connected^ with the 
 ,££i|S£§~.2LJaiosde,dge^ t^jrough. the . present deduction. 
 This deduction is derived from principles of the latter 
 science, and shows how the particular science of morality 
 proceeds from the general science of knowledge, and thus 
 becomes a separate philosophical science. 
 '' If, as IS iMlntainedT-fche-JiiQraliiy-e^'tnir nature follows, 
 from our rationality, in accordance with necessary law^f 
 the mentioned impulsion is itself primary and immediate 
 for perception; that is to say, it will manifest itself/ 
 without our interference, and we cannot change this, its^ 
 manifestation, through our freedom in any manner what- r 
 so&ver.^ lB gonor . a Jij3gJfalTrigh-ar4edTBrtf5irai^^ 
 thff 'grounds thereof, we do not in any manner receive 
 the power to change anything in it, since only our 
 cognition, and not our power, extends so far, and since 
 the whole relation is necessarily our own unchangeable 
 nature itself. 
 
 Hence the deduc tion generates nothi ng else, and must 
 •not be expected to generate anything else than simply 
 theoretical cognition. Just as we do not place things 
 differently in time and space after we have obtained the 
 insight into the grounds of our doing so at all, than we 
 did previously, so also morality does not manifest itself 
 differently in man before and after its deduction . ISTor is 
 the science of morality a science of wisdom — as, indeed, 
 were impossible, since wisdom is rather an art than a 
 science — but morality is' like all philosophy — a science or 
 Knowledge. In its peculiar characteristic, however, it is 
 the theory of the consciousness of our moral nature in 
 general, and of our determined duties in particular. 
 
 So much concerning the significance and the object of 
 our intended deduction. One more preliminary remark 
 for its proper comprehension; a remark made necessary 
 
20 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 by the general ignorance regarding the nature of trans- 
 cendental philosophy. 
 
 The procedure of our deduction will be as follows: — 
 We shall make it our problem, to think ourselves unde r 
 a certain specified characteristic, and .t Qjat3se£S&,.^a^we 
 are compelled to think ourselves under s uch condition . 
 From our thus discovered nature we shall deduce the 
 moral impulsion before mentioned as necessary. Now, at 
 first, it -would seem arbitrary that we think ourselves 
 precisely under such a condition. But he who has an 
 outlook over all philosophy, and over the connection of 
 the several philosophical sciences in a system, knows this 
 condition to be necessary ; whereas anyone else may 
 temporarily regard it as a mere assumption for the 
 purpose of constructing, by its means, a science of 
 morality. The attempt may succeed or not, and the 
 correctness of the assumption will not have been proven 
 until the required science has actually been established 
 by its means. The objection, therefore, that the condition 
 assumed is arbitrary would seem to be of little weight. 
 
 A more important objection, and more instructive in 
 its consequences, would be the following. Some one may 
 say, " You are going to think yourself. Very well ; but ■ 
 as a critical philosopher you ought to know, or it can at 
 least be easily shown to you, that all your thinking 
 proceeds according to certain inner laws of this thinking, 
 that heuce all that you think is modified by the manner 
 of thinking, and that everything is for you as it is, simply 
 because you think it thus. This, doubtless, will also be 
 I the case in the present instance ; _in thinking y ourself you 
 j will become modified according to your th inking, and " 
 hence vou can not s av : Thus aw, 1 in and for myself— 
 since you never can know that unless you have some 
 means of knowledge besides thinking — but you can 
 merely say : Thus must I necessarily thinle myself. Now, 
 if you always remain conscious of this true signifi- 
 cance of your result, and limit yourself to it, no objec- 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 21 
 
 tion can be raised against your procedure, but you can 
 see yourself how much it will be worth. You do not, 
 however, seem to limit yourself to this, its significance. 
 You pretend to deduce from it that moral impulsion 
 which manifests itself in us all, hence to deduce some- 
 thing actual from a mere thought, or to pass from the 
 region of thinking into the utterly different region of 
 actual being." 
 
 To this we reply : This we pretend to do on no 
 account. We remain altogether in the region of thinking, 
 and the ever-continuing misapprehension of transcen- 
 dental philosophy consists precisely in this : that such 
 a transition from the region of thinking to that of being 
 is still considered possible, is still required, and that a 
 being in itself is still considered to be thinkable. That 
 
 impuls ion within us, what else is it than a thinking 
 whictTTorcfeS itseli: upon us — than a necessary conscious- 
 ness? Can we then ever proceed from a consciousness 
 of mere consciousness to the object itself? Do we 
 then know anything else concerning this requirement, 
 than that we must necessarily think that there is such 
 a requirement within us ? The result of our conclusions 
 in the deduction is a thinking ; and that which is 
 within us, independently of all conclusions as primary 
 and immediate, is also a thinking. The only difference 
 between this mediated and immediate thinking is this, 
 that in regard to the latter we do not become conscious 
 of its grounds, but find it to force itself upon us with 
 immediate necessity, thereby receiving the predicate of 
 reality or perceivability ; while the former lies within a 
 series of grounds, whereof we become conscious. It is 
 \ th e very object of philosophy to discover that within our_ 
 reason which remains unknown to us on tlie standpoint 
 
 '^f ordinary conscicmsness . ' We cannot speaF of a~Belag 
 in itself, for reason cannot go beyond itself, for the^ 
 intelligence there is no being ; and since there isa being 
 
 "only for the intelligence, there is no being at all; there 
 
24 THE SCIENCE OF £THICS. 
 
 is only a n ecessary coasciousness . This necessity of 
 consciousness forces itself immediately upon us on the 
 standpoint of ordinary consciousness ; on the transcen- 
 dental standpoint we investigate its grounds. The 
 following deduction, as well as the whole system of 
 morality which is to be erected upon it, furnishes only 
 a part of this necessary consciousness, and would be 
 very incorrectly apprehended if taten to signify any- 
 thing else. 
 
CHAPTEE I. 
 
 Problem. To think myself as s elf, that is to say, 
 apart from all which i s not myself? 
 
 A. Solution. I fi nd myself, as self, only as w illing. 
 
 Explanation. 
 
 First. What does this mean : I find myself ? 
 
 The easiest manner to guide anyone to the correct 
 thinking and understanding of the conception / is as 
 follows : — Think, I would say to him, any object, for 
 instance, _thiswall; this desk. You doubtless assume a 
 thinking, which thinks in this thought, and this thinking 
 you are yourself. You are immediately conscious of your 
 thinking in this, your thinking. But the object which 
 you think is not to be the thinking itself, is not to be 
 identical with it, but is to be an opposite somewhat, of 
 which oppositeness you are also immediately conscious 
 in this your thinking. 
 
 Now think again — not a wall, however, but yourself . 
 As sure as you do this, you posit the thinking and the 
 thought, not as opposites, as you did in the previous case . 
 not as a twofold, but as one and the same ; and you are 
 immediately conscious of it in this manner. You there- 
 fore think the conception Ego or I, when the thinking 
 and the thought are assumed in thinking as one and 
 the same, and vice versa, whatever arises in such a 
 thinking is the conception of the Ego. 
 
 Applying this to our case, I find myself would signify : 
 
M TMS SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 I assume that which I find to be the same as that which 
 finds ; the finding and the found are to be the same. 
 
 Second. What does this mean : I fin d myse lf ? 
 
 The found is here opposed to" that which ifs produced 
 through our free activity ; and more particularly the 
 finding is here determinefl as that which finds; i.e., in 
 so far as I find I am conscious of no other activity 
 than that of a mere taking hold of something ; that which 
 I take hold of being neither produced nor in any manner 
 modified by my taking hold of it. It is to be, and to be 
 precisely as it is, independently of my taking hold of it. It 
 was without having been taken hold of, and would have 
 remained as it was although I had not taken hold of it. 
 My taking hold of it was altogether accidental for it, and 
 did not change it in the least. Thus, at least, do I appear 
 to myself in finding, and at present we are merely con- 
 cerned in establishing the facts of consciousness, but not 
 in showing how it may be in truth, i.e., from the highest 
 standpoint of speculation. In short, something is given 
 to the perceiving subject ; he is to be purely passive, and 
 something is to force itself upon him, which, in our case 
 he is to recognize as himself. 
 
 Third. "What does this signify : I find myself as 
 willing, and can find myself only as willing? 
 
 What willing means is presupposed as well known. 
 This conception is capable of no real explanation, nor 
 does it need any. Each one must become conscious in 
 himself, through intellectual contemplation, as to what 
 it signifies, and will doubtless be able to do so without 
 any difficulty. The fact which the above words suggest 
 is as follows: — I become conscious of a willing. I add 
 in thinking to this willing something which exists inde- 
 pendently of my consciousness, and which I assert to 
 be the willing subject in this will, or to be that which 
 is to have this will, in which this will is to be. How 
 we come to add such a substance in thinking, and what 
 are the grounds of it, we do not discuss here. We 
 
TifE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 25 
 
 merely assert here that it does occur, and of this each 
 one must convince himself by self-observation. I become 
 conscious of, or perceive, this will. But I also become 
 conscious now of this consciousness, or of this perception, 
 and relate it also to a substance ; and this conscious 
 substance is for me the same which has the will. Hence 
 I find the willing subject to be my self, or I find myself 
 willing. 
 
 I find myself onli/ as willing. I have not an imme- 
 diate perception of substance. Substance is, indeed, no 
 object of perception at all, but is merely that which is 
 added through thinking to an object of perception. I 
 can immediately perceive only something, which is to be 
 a manifestation of the substance. Now there are only 
 two manifestations which can be immediately ascribed to 
 that substance: Thinking, in the widest significance of 
 the word, and willing. The former is originally and 
 immediately for itself not at all an object of a special 
 new consciousness, but is consciousness itself. Only in 
 so far as it is related and opposed to another objective 
 does itself become objective in this opposition. Hence, 
 as original objective manifestation of that substance 
 there remains only the latter, the willing; and this, 
 indeed, remains always only objective, is never itself a 
 thinking, but always only the thought manifestation of 
 self-activity. In short, the manifestation which alone I 
 originally ascribe to myself is the willing, and I become 
 conscious of myself only on condition of becoming con- 
 scious of myself as a willing. 
 
 Proof. 
 
 Having thus explained the above proposition, we now 
 proceed to establish its proof. This proof is based : 
 
 First. On the conception of the Ego.— The significance 
 of this conception has just been established through 
 its genesis. That each one does truly proceed in the 
 
26 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 described manner when endeavouring to think his self; 
 and that, on the other hand, such a proceeding gives rise 
 to no other thought than that of his self ; this each one 
 must find in himself, and it cannot be specially proved 
 to him. 
 
 Second. On the necessity of the original cyppositedness 
 of an objective and a subjeciive in consciovsn^s. — In all 
 thinking there is a thought which is not that thinking 
 itself, in all consciousness there is something of which 
 we are conscious, and which is not that consciousness 
 itself. The truth of this assertion each one also must 
 find in the self-contemplation of his procedure, and it 
 cannot be proven to him from conceptions. It is true 
 that afterwards we become conscious of our thinking 
 as such, i.e., as a doing, and thereupon make it an object 
 of our thinking; and the ease and natural tendency to 
 do this is what constitutes philosophical genius, without 
 which no one will grasp the significance of transcendental 
 philosophy. But even this is only possible if we im- 
 perceptibly subsume under that thinking as merely 
 thought, for only on this condition do we really think 
 a thinking. 
 
 Third. On the character of the original objective, that it 
 is to be something existing independently of thinking, 
 hence something actual and in and through itself exist- 
 ing. This also each one must convince himself of 
 through internal contemplation, for although this relation 
 of the objective to the subjective is developed in a 
 science of knowledge, it is by no means proven from 
 its conception, nor can it be so proven, since the latter 
 only becomes possible through that self-contemplation. 
 
 The proof may be stated thus: It is the character of 
 the Ego, that the acting and that which is acted upon be 
 one and the same. This is the case when the Ego is 
 thought. Only in so far as the thought is the same as 
 the thinking do I hold the thought to be my self. But 
 in the present case we are to have nothing to do with 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 27 
 
 thinking. It is true that, since the thinking and the 
 thought are one, I am myself the thinking; but our 
 present proposition asserts that the thought, the objective, 
 is to he Ego simply ly itself and independently of thinJcing, 
 and is to be recognized in this manner as Ego, for our 
 proposition asserts that it is found as Ego. 
 
 Hence, in the thought as such, i.e., in so far as it is to 
 be merely the objective and never the subjective, there 
 must be an identity of the acting and that which is 
 acted upon ; which, since the thought is to be merely an 
 object, is an actual acting upon itself (not a mere con- 
 templating of itself like the ideal activity), or in other 
 words, an actual self-determining of itself through itself. 
 But such an acting we call willing, and willing we only 
 think as such an acting. Hence the proposition, to find 
 my self, is absolutely identical with the proposition, to 
 find my self willing. Only in so far as I find myself 
 willing do I find myself, and in so far as I find myself 
 I necessarily find myself willing. 
 
 Eemaek. 
 
 It is clear that the proposition here proved, "When 
 I find myself I necessarily find myself willing," in order 
 to be productive of categorical results must be pre- 
 ceded by another one, to wit: "I necessarily 'find myself, 
 become necessarily conscious of myself." This self-con- 
 sciousness is proved, not as fact, for as such it is imme- 
 diate, but in its connection with all other consciousness, 
 and as reciprocally determining it in a fundamental 
 science of knowledge ; and hence our present proposition, 
 together with all the results which may flow from it, 
 will itself become a necessary result as well as a con- 
 dition of self-consciousness. It may be said of this 
 proposition, and these its future results, so certain as I 
 am I, or as I am self-conscious, so certain does this or 
 that necessarily exist in and for me. And thus it 
 
 l/ 
 
28 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 appears how our present science of morality is based 
 on the common ground of all philosophy. 
 
 B. Solution Continued. But willing itself is think- 
 able only under the presupposition of a something 
 distinct from the Ego. 
 
 Proof. 
 
 It is true that in philosophical abstraction we may 
 speak of a willing in general, which on that very account 
 is undetermined ; but all truly perceivable willing, such as 
 we speak of here, is necessarily a determined willing, in 
 which something is willed. To will something is to 
 require that a determined object, which in the wilKug of 
 it is only thought as possible — for if it were thought as 
 actual the act would not be a willing, but a perceiv- 
 ing — shall become actual object of a perception. This 
 requirement, therefore, clearly refers us to the external. 
 Hence, all willing involves the postulate of an external 
 object, and the conception of willing involves something 
 which is not our self. 
 
 But more than this. The possibility of postulating in 
 the willing an external object presupposes already within 
 us the conception of an externality in general, and this 
 conception is only possible through experience. But this 
 experience likewise is a relation of our self to something 
 outside of us. In other words, that which I will is never 
 anything else than a modification of an object which is 
 to be actually existing outside of me. All my wilUng is 
 therefore conditioned by the perception of an external 
 object, and in willing I do not perceive myself as I am 
 in and for myself, but merely as I may become in a 
 certain relation to external things. 
 
 C. Solution Concluded. Hence, in order to find my 
 true essence, I must abstract from this foreign character- 
 istic in willing. That which remains after this abstraction 
 is my pure being. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 29 
 
 Explanation. 
 
 This proposition is the immediate result of the previous 
 propositions. Hence, we have only to investigate what 
 that is which remains after having undertaken the 
 required abstraction. Willing, as such, is a first; is 
 absolutely grounded in itself, and in nothing external 
 whatsoever. Let us make clear this conception, upon 
 which all depends here, and which can only be negatwely 
 comprehended and explained — since a first signifies merely 
 that which is derived from nothing else, and absolutely 
 grounded in itself signifies merely not grounded in any- 
 thing else. 
 
 Whatsoever is dependent, conditioned, or grounded 
 through another may be cognized, in so far as it is thus, 
 mediately, namely, from a cognition of that upon which 
 it depends, or in which it is grounded. Thus, for 
 instance, if a ball is set in motion, I can certainly have 
 immediate perception of its movement, of the point from 
 which it starts, the point where it rests, and the celerity 
 with which it moves; but I could likewise obtain a 
 knowledge of all this if I were merely made acquainted 
 with the conditions under which the ball rests, and the 
 force of the stroke with which it is set in motion, 
 although I had no immediate perception of the motion 
 whatever. Hence the motion of the ball is considered as 
 something dependent, or conditioned — as not primary. 
 An absolute first, and in itself grounded somewhat, must 
 therefore be of such a character that it cannot be cognized 
 mediately through another, but only immediately through 
 itself. It is what it is because it is so. 
 
 In so far, therefore, as the willing is absolute and 
 primary, it cannot be explained in any manner from 
 something outside of the Ego, but only from the Ego 
 itself. This absoluteness it is, therefore, which remains 
 when we abstract from all foreign elements. 
 
30 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Eemark. 
 
 That willing, in the significance here attached to it, 
 does appear as absolute is a fact of consciousness which 
 each one will find "in himself, and which cannot be 
 externally proved to anyone who has not this immediate 
 knowledge of it as a fact. Nevertheless, it is quite 
 possible that this appearance of it as absolute may be 
 further explained and deduced, whereby the appearing 
 absoluteness will itself be further explained and cease 
 to be absoluteness, the appearance thereof changing into 
 mere semblance. In a similar manner it also appears to 
 us, as an immediate fact of consciousness, that certain 
 things exist independently of us in time and space, and 
 yet transcendental philosophy further explains and 
 deduces this appearance; although it does not change 
 that appearance into a mere semblance, for reasons not 
 here to be stated. It is true no one will be able to 
 furnish such an explanation of willing. Nevertheless, if 
 anyone should say that willing has an external — and to 
 us incomprehensible — ground, there can be no theoretical 
 rational ground objected against the assertion, although 
 it likewise can also prefer no ground in its favour. The 
 truth is that when we resolve to consider this appearance 
 as no further explicable, or, rather, as absolutely in- 
 explicable — that is to say, as truth, and as our only 
 truth, according to which all other truth must be judged 
 and accepted ; and upon this resolve our whole philosophy 
 is erected. In that case, we make this resolve not from 
 any theoretical insight, but in consequence of a practical 
 interest. I will be independent: hence I resolve to 
 consider myself independent. Such a resolve is called 
 Faith. Hence our philosophy starts from a faith, and 
 knows it. Dogmatism, which, logically carried out, 
 makes the same assertion, starts also from a faith (in 
 the thing in itself), but generally does not know it. In 
 our philosophy each one makes himself the absolute 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 31 
 
 starting-point, or basis, of his philosophy: hence our 
 system appears as without a basis to all those who are 
 incapable of doing so. But we can also assure all these, 
 in advance, that they will never find a basis elsewhere, 
 unless they are satisfied with this. It is necessary that 
 our philosophy should say this openly, so that it may no 
 longer be called upon to demonstrate externally to men 
 what each one must create within himself. 
 
 How do we think this absoluteness in willing ? 
 
 In order to assist the reader at the very beginning in 
 obtaining some insight into this conception (which is 
 probably, in the abstractness it has received here, the 
 most difficult of all conceptions in philosophy, although 
 it will doubtless receive the highest clearness in the 
 progress of our present science, the whole object of 
 which is merely to further determine this conception), 
 we make use of an 
 
 Illusteation. 
 
 Let the reader imagine a steel spring, bent together. 
 There is doubtless in the spring a tendency to repel the 
 pressure, hence a tendency outwards. Such a spring is 
 the picture of an actual willing, as the state or condition 
 of a rational being; but of it I do not speak here. Let 
 me now ask what is the first ground (not condition) of 
 this tendency, as a real and determined manifestation 
 of the spring? Doubtless an inner action of the spring 
 upon itself, a self-determination. For no one surely will 
 say that the outward force which presses the spring is 
 the ground of the spring's reacting against it. This self- 
 determining is the same as the mere act of willing in 
 the rational being. Both together would produce in the 
 spring, if it could contemplate itself, the consciousness 
 of a will to repel the pressing force. But all these 
 moments are possible only on condition that such an 
 external pressure is actually exercised upon the spring. 
 
32 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 In the same way the rational being cannot determine 
 itself to an actual willing, unless it stands in reciprocal 
 relation with something external (for as such the rational 
 being appears to itself). 
 
 But this is also to be abstracted from, and hence we 
 do not speak here of this moment any more than of 
 the first-mentioned one. Now if we abstract from the 
 external pressure altogether, does there yet remain any- 
 thing whereby we think the steel spring as such, and 
 what is this remainder ? Evidently that, by which I 
 judge the steel spring to have a tendency to repel any 
 outside pressure as soon as it occurs ; hence the own inner 
 tendency thereof to determine itself to react, or the real 
 essence of elasticity as the final and no further explicable 
 ground of . all the appearances of the spring, whenever 
 the conditions of its manifestation are given. (The very 
 essential distinction between this original tendency in 
 the steel spring, and the same in the rational being, 
 will appear in the following investigations.) 
 
 In the same manner in which we removed all foreign 
 elements from the conception of elasticity in the steel 
 spring, we now proceed to remove all foreign elements 
 in the Ego comprehended through its willing, and thus 
 to arrive at a comprehension of its pure absolute- 
 ness. 
 
 So far as the form of this problem is concerned, it is a 
 problem to think the Ego in the required abstraction as 
 a permanent, and hence that, through which it is to be 
 comprehended and characterized in this thinking, must 
 be an essential and permanent. Its manifestations and 
 appearances can change, because the conditions under 
 which it manifests itself change; but that which mani- 
 fests itself under aU these conditions remains always 
 the same. 
 
 So far as the contint of the problem is concerned, that 
 which is to be thought is to be the ground of an absolute 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 
 
 33 
 
 jyilling, (All willing is absolute.) What, then, is it? 
 Each one must have truly thought, together with us, that 
 which we required him to think ; must have undertaken, 
 together with us, the prescribed abstractions; and must 
 now observe himself internally, and see what it is that 
 remains,, what it is that he still thinks, after having 
 removed all those foreign elements. Only thus can the 
 required knowledge be infused into him. A name cannot 
 make it clear, for the whole conception has never been 
 thought before, much less named. But to give it a name, 
 we will call it, absolute tendency to the ahsoluie; a bsolute 
 xindeterm inab ilitv through anything not itself ;fendency 
 absolutely to determine itself without any external per- 
 suasion. It is not only a mere power, or faculty , for a 
 faculty is not actual, but is merely that which we think 
 in advance of our actuality, in order to be able to receive 
 it in a series of our thinking; and that which we have 
 to think here is to be s omething actu al, is to be that 
 which constitutes _the essence of the Ego. And yet this 
 conception of a facultv is also involved in it^ When 
 related to the actual manifestation, which is only possible 
 on condition of a given object, it is in this relation the 
 faculty or power of such manifestation. Neither is i t 
 an imvulse. as one might call the ground of the elasticity^ 
 in the steel spring; for an impulse operates necessarily 
 when the conditions of its . operating are given, and 
 operates in a matetially determined manner. But con- 
 cerning the Ego, we know as yet nothing in relation 
 to this point, and are not allowed to' make hasty judg- 
 ments in advance of the investigation. 
 
 Eesult. 
 
 The essential character of the Ego, through which it 
 distinguishes itself from all that is outside of it, consists 
 in its tendency to self-activity for the sake of self - 
 activity ; and it is this tendency which is thought, when 
 
 D 
 
34 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 the Ego is thought in and for itself without relation to 
 anything external. 
 
 Eemaek. 
 
 It must be remembered tha t the Ego is here considered 
 only as oh jed, but n ot as Ego in general . In the latter 
 ' case, our above result would be utterly false. 
 
CHAPTEE ir. 
 
 We have just shown what the Ego is, in and for itself; 
 or, to express it more carefully, how t he Ego must 
 necessarilY be thoudht, if it is thought solely as object . 
 
 But the Ugo is something only in so far as it posits 
 itself (contemplates and thinks itself) as such, and 
 Jbhe Ego i s nothing so far as it does not posit itself. 
 This is a proposition taken from and proved in the 
 science of knowledge, and which we need therefore only 
 explain here in a few words. 
 
 A thing, and the utter opposite of a thing, the Ego, 
 or a rational being, are distinguished by this, that the 
 thing merely is, w ithout, knowinpr of its being in the 
 least, whereas j.n the Ego, being and cm^pcinn.'^ness join 
 together ; the being of the Ego not being without 
 self - consciousness of the Ego, and vice versa, no self- 
 consciousness of the Ego without a being of that whereof 
 it becomes conscious. All being relates to a conscious- 
 ness, and even the existence of a thing cannot be thought 
 without adding in thinking an intelligen ce which knows 
 of this existence. But in the case of the thing this 
 knowing is not posited in the thing, which is, but in 
 an external intelligence ; whereas the knowing^ of the 
 being of the Ego is posited in the same substance, which 
 is; and only in so far as this immediate connection of 
 consciousness and being is posited can it be said the 
 Ego is this or that. 
 
 Applying this to the present case, it follows that the 
 Ego must know of that which we have established as 
 the essence of the Ego, as sure as that is its essence. 
 
 35 
 
36 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Here there is necessarily a consciousness of the described 
 absolute tendency. It may be of advantage, not merely 
 to state this result generally, but to enter upon a par- 
 ticular description of this consciousness. We now proceed 
 to undertake this task. 
 
 Peoblem. To become definitely conscious of the con- 
 sciousness of our original being. 
 
 Explanatory. 
 
 It is self-evident that we are conscious whereof we 
 speak, whether we speak philosophically or otherwise. 
 Thus in the preceding chapter we became conscious of 
 something. The oT^ject of our consciousness .was -J^ ro- 
 duced through free self-determination of our thinking 
 faculty by means of an arbitrary abstraction. 
 
 But at present we assert that the same object exists 
 for us originally, i.e., independent of all philosophisiog, 
 and necessarily forces itself upon us as sure as we have 
 any consciousness at all. If this is true, then an original 
 consciousness thereof exists, though perhaps not precisely 
 as of a single object, in the same abstraction in which we 
 have just established it. Perhaps it may always occur in 
 this original consciousness, in and together with another 
 thought, as a determination of that thought. 
 
 Now let us ask — Is, then, this original consciousness 
 differently constituted from that which we have just now 
 produced in us through philosophizing ? How were this 
 possible, since the same is to be its objeet, and since the 
 philosopher has surely no other subjective form of think- 
 ing than the common and original forfil of thinking of 
 universal reason? 
 
 Why, then, do we seek what we already possess ? We 
 have it without knowing it ; and at present we only 
 want to produce this knowing of it within us. The 
 rational being is constituted in such a manner as rarely 
 to observe its own thinking when thinking, but only the 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 37 
 
 object of its thinking; or as usually to lose itself, the 
 subject, in the object. N"evertheless, philosophy is, above 
 all, anxious to know the subject as such in order to 
 obtain a judgment concerning its influence upon the 
 determination of the object. This can only be done if 
 the mere reflection is made the object of a new reflection. 
 To the non-philosopher it may seem curious and, per- 
 haps, ridiculous to require anyone to become conscious of 
 a consciousness , but this would only prove his ignorance 
 of philosophy and his inability to philosophize. 
 
 Genetical Description of the Consciousness of 
 OuE Original Being. 
 
 The Ego has the absolute power of contemplation, for 
 only through it is it Ego. This power can be no further 
 deduced, and needs no further deduction. With the 
 positing of an Ego this power is posited. 
 
 Again, the Ego can and must contemplate what it is. 
 The peculiar determination of contemplation, here postu- 
 lated, requires likewise no deduction or mediation through 
 external grounds. The Ego contemplates itself because it 
 does, so far as regards the mere fact. 
 
 Now let us proceed to determine this fact; in doing 
 which we shall and must calculate in each reader upon 
 his own self-active generation of that whereof we speak, 
 and upon his close observation of that which will arise 
 within him when he thus generates. 
 
 A. The contemplating intelligence posits the above 
 described tendency to absolute activity as itsdf, or as 
 identical with itself, the intelligence, that absoluteness 
 of real activity thus becomes the true essence of the 
 intelligence, and is brought under the authority of the 
 conception, whereby alone it first becomes true freedom: 
 absoluteness of the absoluteness, absolute power to make 
 itself absolute. Through the consciousness of its abso- 
 luteness the Ego tears itself loose from itself, and posits 
 itself as independent. 
 
38 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 EXPLAITATOEY. 
 
 Let me explain this expression: it tears itself loose 
 from itself. All coatemplation, as such, is to be directed 
 upon something existing independently of it, and exist- 
 ing precisely as it is contemplated. It is the same with 
 the contemplation whereof we speak here. The Ego as 
 absolute is to have had existence before it was seized in 
 contemplation, and this absoluteness is to constitute its 
 independent being, apart from all contemplation of it. 
 Now, where the contemplated is something outside of the 
 contemplating, the intelligence is altogether passive in 
 its observation. Such is not to be the case in our 
 instance. Here the contemplated is itself the contem- 
 plating ; not immediately as such, it is true, but it is the 
 same one essence, power, and substance as the contem- 
 plating. Hence the intelligence is in this instance not 
 merely a passive observer, but rather becomes for itself 
 absolute real power of the conception. The Ego, as 
 absolute power with consciousness, tears itself loose from 
 the Ego, as the given absolute without power and con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 It is well to dwell somewhat longer upon this chief 
 thought, which may seem difficult to many, but upon 
 the direct comprehension whereof the possibility of 
 understanding our whole system depends. 
 
 Let the reader once more think of an elastic steel 
 spring. It is true that the spring contains within itself 
 the principle of a peculiar movement, which is not given to 
 the spring externally, but which rather resists the direc- 
 tion given it from without. Nevertheless you will doubt- 
 less hesitate to ascribe that which you have hitherto very 
 properly called freedom to the spring. Whence this 
 hesitation ? If you should say, " Because the resistance 
 follows from the nature of the spring, and from the 
 circumstance of an external pressure upon it with in- 
 evitable necessity," I am willing to remove this inevit- 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 39 
 
 able necessity. I will permit you to assume that the 
 steel spring, at some time, resists the pressure from an 
 unknown reason, and at another time from an unknown 
 reason cedes to the pressure. Are you now going to call 
 such a steel spring free ? I do not believe it. The con- 
 ception of freedom, instead of facilitating the connection 
 of freedom with the spring, rather asks you to think 
 something absolutely unthinkable, namely, blind chance : 
 and you will persist in saying that although you do not 
 know t hrough what the spring is determined to resis t, 
 
 ^youare sure that the sp ring is t hus determined, and does 
 not dete rmine, it self to resist, and that the spring can. 
 
 Therefore, not be called free. 
 
 Now, let me ask you, what do you t hink when you 
 thin k "to be determined "In opposition to " selt'-deter- 
 Imned ,'* and what is it you require for the possibility 
 of the latter ? We will try to make this clear ; and 
 since you found it impossible to do anything with the 
 thought of a free thing as a thing dependent upon blind 
 chance, nor found that thought to facilitate the con- 
 nection of freedom with a thing, we shall commence with 
 it. You said, then, the steel spring is determined hy its 
 nature to resist external pressure. What does this mean? 
 In thus askitig, What does it mean ? I do not propose that 
 you shall acquire an external knowledge, or discover new 
 results by progressive conclusions from an acquired 
 knowledge. That which I ask for, you think at this 
 very moment, and you have always thought it, even 
 before you resolved to philosophize; and I merely ask 
 that you shall make clear to yourself what you really 
 think, or that you shall but understand what you say. 
 The nature of the thing is its fixed being, without 
 iTitAmai' mnvfiment. quiet and dead; an d such a fixed 
 being you posit necessarily when ^ you posit a thing 
 
 ~a,nd a nature thereof; for such "a^ positing is precisely 
 the thinking of a thing. Now, together with this un- 
 changeable permanency of the thing, you posit that under 
 
40 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS, 
 
 a certain condition a change will result in the thing. 
 For that which you have posited as. fixed and unchangeable 
 is the nature of the thing, which does not depend upon 
 the thing, since the thing is itself its own nature,. and its 
 nature is the thing itself. When you think the one, you 
 necessarily think the other also, and you will surely not 
 say that the thing exists in advance of its own nature, 
 and determines its own nature. But having once posited 
 this nature of the thing, you proceed in your thinking 
 from a"being ( of the nature of the thing) to anot^ r 
 ^ei^Tof the inanifestation of this .nature under certai n 
 c onditions), a nd t his progression of your thinking desCTi5e s 
 a ste ady series of bein g. Expressing the same subjectively, 
 "your contempMim is~always tied down, is always merely 
 passively observing, and there is not a moment in the 
 series when it might become self -productive ; and this 
 condition of your thinking is precisely that which you 
 call the thinking of necessity, and through which you 
 deny al l freedom to the object of such thinking. 
 
 We have, therefore, discovered the groimd why you 
 find it absolutely impossible to think freedom in our 
 present case, and in all similar cases. Expressing it 
 objectively, all being which flows itself from a bein» is a 
 necessary being, and not a product of freedom . Express- 
 ing it subjectively, the conception of a necessary being 
 arises in us through the connecting of one being with 
 another being. 
 
 From this you will now be able to conclude, through 
 opposition, what it is you require in order to think free- 
 dom, which you surely can think, and always have thought. 
 
 You require a being which shall have, not no ground 
 at all — for such you cannot think — but a ground in 
 jomething which is not again a being. , Now, besides 
 I being, we only hav e Jjhinking Hence, a being which 
 you may be able to think as product of freedom must 
 proceed from a thinking. Let us see whether this pre- 
 supposition makes freedom comprehensible. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 41 
 
 Something which is not determined, but determines, 
 itself, is to be called fOTge. Is this active determining 
 comprehensible when presupposed as occurring through 
 a thinking? Undoubtedly, provide d we are but able to 
 _t hink thinking itself, and do not again make a thing ou t 
 of our conception. The reason why we could not derive 
 freedom from a being was because the conception of a 
 being involved that of a fixed permanency. But such 
 permanent being does not hinder us when we derive 
 freedom from thinking, since thinking is not posited as 
 something permanent, remaining, etc., but as agility 
 [ Agilitat = producing activity], and only as agility, of the 
 intelligence. 
 
 To be posited as free, something must be posited as 
 determining itself. Such was your assertion. (It must 
 not only be not determined through an external other, 
 but also not through its own nature.) What does that 
 Itself mean ? It doubtless involves the thought of a 
 twofold. The f re e is to le before it is determined ; it is 
 to have an existence independent of its determinedness. 
 A thing cannot be thought as determining itself precisely 
 because it has not being in advance of its nature, or of 
 the system of its determinedness. But the intelligence, 
 with its conception of real being, is in advance of that 
 real being, and the former contains the ground of the 
 latter. The conception of a certain being precedes that 
 being, and the latter is dependent upon the former. 
 
 Our assertion is, therefore, that only the intelligence 
 can be thought as free, and that the intelligence becomes 
 free only through thus seizing itself as intelligence, for 
 only thus does it subsume its being under something 
 which is higher than all being, namely, the conception. 
 Somebody might object that in our own argumentation 
 (in the preceding chapter) the absoluteness is presupposed 
 as a being; and that the reflection which is now to 
 achieve such great wonders is evidently itself conditioned 
 through that absoluteness, having it for its object, and 
 
42 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 is neither reflection in general nor this particular reflec- 
 tion, unless an object in general and this particular object 
 are presupposed. To this objection we reply that it will 
 appear hereafter how this absoluteness itself is required 
 for, and results from, the possibility of an intelligence in 
 general, and that hence the above proposition may also 
 be reversed as follows: only that which is free can be 
 thought as an intelligence; an intelligence is necessarily 
 free. 
 
 B. The Ego, in contemplating that tendency to absolute 
 activity as itself, posits itself as free, i.e., as a power to 
 have causality through the mere conception. 
 
 Explanatory. 
 
 Freedom is, according to Kant, the power to absolutely 
 begin a condition or being. This is an excellent nominal 
 explanation; and yet it seems to have been of little value 
 in effecting a better insight into freedom. For that ex- 
 planation did not answer the higher question : _how_ a 
 CMidition or b eing could h ave an absolute beginning , or 
 jiow such an absolute beginning could be thought; 'by 
 which answer a genetieal conception of freedom wouM 
 have been generated before our very eyes. Now this we 
 have just done. The absolutely beginning condition is 
 not connected with nothingness— for the finite rational 
 being necessarily thinks through mediation and connec- 
 tion. But it begi ns with thinking itself — not with a 
 being but \nt!iThmJ^ing. 
 ' In order to establish the conception in this manner, it 
 is certainly necessary to walk, and to be able to walk, 
 the path of the science of knowledge, to be able to 
 abstract from all being, as such (or from the fact), and 
 to start from that which is higher than all being, from 
 contemplating and thinking, or from the acting of the 
 intelligence in general. The same path, which alone 
 leads to the right end in the theoretical philosophy in 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 43 
 
 explaining being, is the path which also alone makes 
 practical philosophy .possible. This likewise makes more 
 clear our previous expression : " The Ego posits itself as 
 independent." The first view of this proposition, namely, 
 "The Ego gathers up all that it originally is — and 
 originally it is nothing unless free — in the contemplation 
 and conception of itself" we have already explained 
 completely. But that proposition involves something 
 more. For all that the Ego can be in actuality, when 
 the conception becomes cognition, and when the intelli- 
 gence is the mere passive observer of the external world, 
 originally depends, after all, upon the conception. What- 
 soever the Ego is to become, the Ego must first make 
 
 itself to be through the conceptionTand whatsoever the 
 Ego will be in the future it most surely will ha ve mad e 
 \ it self through the conception. Hence the Ego is its_ 
 own ground in every respect, and absolutely postfe itsdf 
 even in a practical significance. 
 
 But the Ego only posits itself as a faculty or power. 
 
 This must, and can, be strictly proven. For the 
 tendency to have absolute activity comes under the 
 authority of the intelligence, as we have seen. But 
 the intelligence, as such, is — as each one must discover 
 in contemplating himself as intelligence, and as cannot 
 be demonstrated to anybody — absolutely determining 
 itself a mere 'pure, activity, in opposition to aU permanent 
 and posited being, however finely conceived; hence it is 
 ca pable of no determination throu gh its nature or essence, 
 of through a tendency, impulse, or inclination in it. 
 Hence also such an inclination, however finely conceived, 
 is not possible in that power of activity which is under 
 the control of the intelligence, in so far as it is under 
 such control; which active power is therefore to be 
 thought as a mere pure faculty, i.e., as merely a concep- 
 tion, to which an actuality can, in thinking, be connected 
 as to its ground, although there is not in it the least 
 datum to show what sort of an actuality it will be. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 It must have appeared strange to the reader that, in the 
 preceding chapter, we deduced from a reflection of a 
 tendency a consciousness, which has no similarity to a 
 tendency at all, and that we thus appeared to lose 
 sight utterly of the real character of this tendency. 
 According to the principle upon which our argument, in 
 the preceding chapter, was based, the Ego is only that 
 as which it posits itself. Now the Ego is to be originally 
 a tendency. The Ego must, therefore, haVe this character 
 for %tself — must become conscious of this, its character . 
 The question is, therefore, not at all whether such a 
 consciousness does occur in the Ego, but simply how 
 this consciousness may be constituted in its form ? We 
 shall obtain the required insight best by causing this 
 consciousness to form itself under our very eyes. Hence 
 it is our 
 
 Peoblem. To see in what manner the Ego become s 
 conscious of its tendency to absolute self-activity , as 
 such tendency. i"«»i«^i«M«i«^Bi^fc_ 
 
 Explanatory. 
 
 In our previous chapter we proceeded by absolutely 
 postulating a reflection upon the objective Ego under 
 consideration; undoubtedly justified in so doing, since 
 the Ego is necessarily intelligence, and an intelligence un- 
 conditionally contemplating itself. We, the philosophers, 
 were mere spectators of a self-conteWlation on the part 
 of the original Ego, and that whichWe established was 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 45 
 
 not our own thought but a thought of the Ego; the 
 object of our reflection was itself a reflection. 
 
 In the present chapter we likewise calculate — provided 
 we can solve our problem at all — upon arriving at such 
 an original reflection of the Ego; but we cannot well 
 take our starting-point from it. For the mere postulate 
 of a reflection results in nothing further than what we 
 have already discovered, and found to be insufficient, 
 namely, the consciousness of a mere faculty, or power, 
 but on no account of a tendency, or impulse. To state 
 the distinction briefly, the reflection of our previous 
 chapter was absolutely possible, but the one of the present 
 chapter must first be grounded in its possibility, which 
 grounding we now undertake through our philosophizing. 
 
 Solution. 
 
 A. The posited tendency necessarily manifests itself 
 as im pulse in the whoU Ego. ^ 
 
 Eemaeks. 
 
 A particular proof of this assertion is not needed, 
 resulting, as it does, from a mere analysis of what has 
 been established in our first chapter. The tendency is 
 posited as the essence of the Ego, and hence belongs, as 
 such, to the Ego, and cannot be abstracted from, without 
 cancelling the Ego. But as mere tendency it is impulse,, 
 i.e., real internal explanatorv ground of an actual self- 
 activity. Now an impulse which is posited as essential, 
 permanent, and ineradicable, impels, and this is its 
 manifestation: both expressions express precisely the 
 same. 
 
 Now, if we think the Eg o, in which the impulse is, 
 merely objectively , then the working of the impulse is 
 comprehensible easily enough ; it will effect a self-activity 
 as soon as the external conditions are given ; precisely as 
 was the case with the steel spring. The act will follow 
 
46 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 from the impulse, like the effect from its cause. Nay, we 
 may even add, in thought, the intelligence, hut in such a 
 manner as to have it dependent upon the objective quali- 
 tativeness; and the impuls e will be accompanied by a 
 yearning, or the deed by a resolvQ, with the same 
 necessity — if the conditions are but given — ^with which 
 the deed resulted from the impulse. 
 
 "We may think the Ego thus merely objectively in 
 relation to the impulse, and will be forced to think it 
 thus hereafter; but at present this repeated separation 
 in a conception which we have composed already would 
 serve us nothing, and only tend to distract our attention. 
 A systematical progression requires that we should 
 further determine our last result as we found it, and 
 hence we must not think the Ego here objectively, but, 
 as we have established it in the preceding chapter, 
 objectively and subjectively together. This is the 
 significance of the term, the whoh Ego, which we made 
 use of above. 
 
 Perhaps it may be well to state this still clearer. The 
 Egoness, then, consists in the absolute identity of th e 
 subjective and objective, in the absolute union of being 
 with consciousness, and of consciousness with being. 
 
 ( Neither the subjective nor the objective, but an identity, 
 "is the essence of the Ego; and we mention the lormer 
 twofold only to designate the empty spot of this identity. 
 Now, can anyone think this identity as himself ? Of 
 course not; for in order to think himself he, must make 
 
 that very disHndipn between the suhjeciive arui objectiv e. 
 
 which' is not to be made in that conception of the 
 identity. Without this distinction, indeed, no thinking 
 whatsoever is possible. Hence we never think both 
 (the subjective and the objective) together, but always 
 one after the other, and through this very thinking of 
 the one after the other, we always think the one as 
 dependent upon the other. Hence it is very natural, to 
 be sure, that one should ask, am I because / think myself, 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 47 
 
 or do I think myself because I am ? But such a "because 
 and such a therefore does not occur here at all. You 
 are' neither of the two because you are the other; you 
 are not twofold in any manner, but absolutely one ; and 
 you are this unthinkable one absolutely because you 
 '^are_it. 
 
 This conception, which is only to be described as the 
 
 problem of a thinking, but which can never be thought 
 
 itself, points out an empty place in our investigation . 
 
 ' which we shallcaJlJL^The Ego cannot, for the reason 
 
 j stated, comprehend it self ; it is absolutely = X. 
 
 Now this whole Jigo, in s6 far as it is neither subject 
 nor object, but ^subject- object, has, in itself, a tendencY_ 
 jio absolute self-activity , which, if separated from the 
 substance itself, and thought as ground of its activity, 
 is an impulse which impels it . Should anyone still 
 doubt our authority to relate this impulse to the whole 
 Ego, we can easily remove that doubt now, by a separa- 
 tion of the Ego, which is permissible here. For the Ego . 
 in reflecting upon itself, according to the preceding 
 chapter, posits that which is involved in its objectivi ty, 
 ns itself^ even in so far as it is reflecting or subjective. 
 
 Now the obj^gctive doubtless contains an impuls e, and 
 this impulse is ^ changed through the reflection into an 
 impulse. .nDQiLJth e subjective ; and since the Ego consists, 
 in the main, of both, it becorhes an impulse directed upon 
 the whole Ego. 
 
 But how this impulse can manifest itself in the whole 
 Ego cannot be determined here, particularly as even that 
 upon which it is directed is absolutely incomprehensible. 
 We can only say negatively that it cannot manifest itsel f 
 with necessity and mechanical action^ since the Ego, in its 
 subjectivity, has placed its power of activity under the 
 authority of its thinking, and since its thinking is not 
 determinable through anything external, but only through 
 itself. 
 
48 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 B. Prom this manifestation of th e impulse there does 
 not result a feeling . 
 
 Eemakks. 
 
 Feeling in general is the mere immediate relation of 
 the ohiective. in the Ego, to the subjective in the same^ 
 "ofits being to its consciousness ; and the power of feeling 
 is the true point of union of both, though only in so far 
 — as appears from our above description — as the sub- 
 jective is considered as dependent upon the objective. 
 (For in so far as the objective is considered as dependent 
 upon the subjective, the point of union of both is the 
 will.) 
 
 This can be made clearer as follows: — The objective 
 in the Ego is determined, moved, or changed without 
 any action of its own, and precisely like the mere thing . 
 But since the Ego is never merely objective , the subjective 
 always being united with it in the same one and un- 
 divided essence, there necessaiily arises with the change 
 of the objective a change of the subjective, and hence 
 a consciousness of that change in the objective ; but this 
 consciousness appears as if it were produced in the same 
 mechanical manner as that in which the change is pro- 
 duced. This is the peculiar characteristic of feeling. In 
 representation, the representing subject is also, it is true, 
 merely passive, i.e., when the representation is directed 
 upon any actual external being; but in feeling there is 
 no consciousness on the part of the subject of any 
 inte rnal agility, whereas in representation this conscious- 
 ness certainly arises in regard to the form of the 
 representation. la^j epresentation. I certainly do not 
 produce the represented, but I certainly produce the 
 act of representing it ; whereas in feeling I produce 
 neither the felt nor the act of feeling. It is impossible 
 to determine these distinctions more closely through 
 conception, and even the distinctions specified here have 
 no meaning, unless made clear by each one to himself 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 49 
 
 through contemplation of himself in these various con- 
 ditions. Such descriptions as we have attempted here 
 are not to replace but merely to guide self-contemplation. 
 
 It is true that we shall soon m eet a determinateness of 
 the merely objecttve Ego througlTtEe impulse of absoTiTtp, 
 self-activity, and that we shall moreover deduce also 
 feeling from this determinateness. But at present we 
 are not speaking of any determinateness of the merely 
 objective, but of the whole Ego = X. Can a feeling re sult 
 from this determinateness ? 
 
 A feeling presupposes, according to our description, 
 partly the dependence of the merely objective upon an 
 impulse, and partly the dependence of the subjective 
 upon the objective. In the present case, the latter 
 dependence has not been posited at all as possible, for 
 both the subjective and objective are not to' be con- 
 sidered as distinct, but rather as absolutely one, and 
 have been determined as thus absolutely one. What 
 this one may be, and what may be its determinateness, 
 is incomprehensible to us, as we have seen. But in order 
 to comprehend at least something, we can only begin 
 with one of the two parts into which we necessarily 
 separate, or into which this one necessarily separates. 
 Now since it is the Ego whereof we speak, in so far 
 as its objective is to stand under the authority of the 
 subjective, it will be most proper to begin with the 
 subjective. 
 
 The Ego as intelligence, therefore, is immediately 
 determined through the impulse. A determination of 
 the intelligence is a thought. Hence : 
 
 C. From the manifestation of the impulse there results 
 necessarily a thought^ ~~ 
 
 (It has been previously stated that the intelligence, as 
 absolute agility , is not capable of any determination 
 whatever ; that, it brings forth its thoughts, but that no 
 E 
 
50 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 thoughts can be brought forth in it. The present state- 
 ment might seem to be a contradiction of that previous 
 result, but it will be apparent hereafter that both state- 
 ments may well go together.) 
 
 I. We therefore proceed to determine this thought, 
 and in doing so first investigate it in regard to its form. 
 
 A d dermin ed thinking, such as we reflect upon at 
 present/appears' either "'as determined through a being 
 — namely, when the thought is to be an actual object, 
 in which case the thought results in our consciousness as 
 it does simply because the thing is as it_is — or as deter- 
 mined through another thinking; in which latter case 
 we say it results from this other thinking, and we then 
 attain an insight into a series of rational grounds. 
 
 Neither case occui's in our present instance. Our 
 thought is not determined through a being, because we 
 do not think an objective determinateness, not even that 
 of the objective Ego, but of the whole Ego ; and it is not 
 determined through a thinking, because in this thought 
 the Ego thinks itself, and thinks itself in its fundamental 
 essence, but not with derived predicates ; and because this 
 thinking of the Ego, particularly in this respect, is not 
 conditioned by any other thinking, but rather conditions 
 itself all other thinking. 
 
 Hence this thought is not conditioned and determined 
 through anything outside of it, neither through a being 
 nor through a thinking, but absolutely through itself 
 alone. It is a first immediate thinking. Strange as such 
 an assertion may appear at the first glance, it follows 
 correctly from the established premises, and is rnost 
 important as well for the particular philosophical science 
 which we establish here, as for the whole transcendental 
 philosophy. It must be carefully noted therefore. 
 
 Through it, thinking is rendered absolute in regard to 
 its form ; we obtain a series, which absolutely commences 
 with a thought, which itself is grounded in nothing 
 besides, and connected with nothing else. For the fact 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 51 
 
 that we have jast now in our philosophizing grounded 
 this thought, moreover, in an impulse, has no influence 
 upon common consciousness, which begins with it, and 
 is not a consciousness of the established grounds; as, 
 indeed, we have proven. 
 
 It is also to be remarked that this relation of the 
 
 subjective to the objective is trulv^the oripinal relation 
 in the Ego : and that the opposite relation , wherein the 
 thought is posite d as dependent upon the__beingj is 
 grounded in this first relation, and must be derived from 
 it. (To establish, this deduction is the business of another 
 branch of p hjlospphy ; though we shalTalso have to recur 
 to it hereafter.) 
 
 But the described thought is also absolute in regard 
 to its content, it is thought as it is thought simpl y 
 ^bec ause it_is thus thnugl^fc^ This is of particular impor- 
 tance for our present science, lest some should be induced, 
 as has occurred frequently, to attempt a further explana- 
 tion and deduction of the consciousness of our duties (for 
 as such the described thought will soon show itself to 
 be), which attempt is futile, involving an impossibility, 
 and is also derogatory to the dignity and absoluteness 
 of the moral law. In short, this thinking is the absolut e 
 principle of our being ; through it we absolutely consti- 
 tute7 and in it consists, our being. For the essence o f 
 our being is not a material permanent, as that o f 
 lifeless things, but rather a_consfiiQa^ess, and moreover 
 a determined consciousness. 
 
 That we think this thinking we know immediately , for 
 thinking is precisely this immediate consciousness of the 
 determinateness of ourself as intelligence ; and in the 
 present case of an intelligence, purely as such. An 
 immediate consciousness is called contemplation ; and ) 
 since the contemplation here is not directed upon an- 
 external being by means of feeling, but rather upon the 
 intelligence immediately as such, it is called very properly 
 intellectual contemplation. It is, indeed, the only one 
 
52 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 which originally and actually occurs in every man 
 without the freedom of philosophical abstraction. The 
 intellectual contemplation, which the transcendental 
 philosopher requires of all students, is the mere form of 
 this actual intellectual contemplation, is the mere con- 
 templation of the inner absolute spontaneity of the same, 
 with utter abstraction from its determinateness. Without 
 this actual contemplation, the philosophical contemplation 
 were not possible ; our thinking is originally determined 
 originally and not abstract. 
 
 2. We now proceed to describe that thought in regard 
 to its content. 
 
 The whole Ego is determined through the impulse to 
 have absolute self-activity, and it is this determinateness 
 wEicE" is thought "in our present thinking. But the 
 who le Ego cannot b e co mprehended,, and hence, likewise, 
 not immediately a determinateness of the whole Ego. 
 It is only through reciprocal determi natian of the sub- 
 jective and the objective that we can approximate the 
 determinateness of the whole Ego, and we shall now 
 attempt to do so. 
 
 Let us first think the subjective determined through 
 the objective. The essence of objectivity is an absolu te 
 unchangeable permanency . Applying this to the subjec- 
 tive, we arrive at a permanent unchangeable, or, in other 
 words, at a necessary thinking, a law of thinking . Now, 
 the determiniQg impulse is an impu lse to absolute self- 
 activity . Hence, there results as content of the deduced 
 thought : that the intelligence jnust give to itself an 
 irrevocable law to realize absolute self-activity . 
 
 Let us now think the objective determined through the 
 subjective. The subjective is the positing of an absolute 
 but completely undetermined power of freedom, as 
 described in our previous chapter. This is to deter- 
 mine, to produce, and condition the described objective. 
 In other words, the thought just now established (that 
 the intelligence must propound to itself a law to realize 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 53 
 
 absolute self-activity), is possible only on condition that 
 the Ego thinks itself as free. 
 
 But each is reciprocally to determine the other. That 
 is to say, the described self -legislation of the Epo occurs 
 only when the Ego thinks itself as free, but if the Ego 
 thinks itself as free it occurs necessarily. Thus, then, 
 the admitted difficulty of conceiving a determinateness 
 of the thinking is likewise removed ; for the described 
 thought does not occur nece s sarily, since in that case 
 thinl^ing w ould c ^^se to be thinkin g (there being no 
 freedom) , and the subjective would change into an objec- 
 tive ; but it occurs necessarily only as thinking thinks 
 with absolute freedom that very freedom. Strictly speak- 
 ing, therefore, this thought is not a particular thought, 
 but merely the necessary manner of thinking our freedom. 
 (This is very important.) It is the same with all other 
 necessity of thinking. Such necessity is not absolute 
 necessity, which, indeed, is not possible, since all thinking 
 starts from a free thinking of our self; but it is merely 
 conditioned by our thinking anything at all. If we think 
 anything, then we must necessarily think in this or that 
 manner ; such is altogether the character of necessity in 
 thinking. 
 
 It is still to be observed that this thought grounds 
 itself upon an impulse, and hence must retain the 
 character of an impulse, which character is that of a 
 postulate. The content of the deduced thought may, 
 therefore, be described, in short, as follows: We are 
 forced to think, that we are to determine ourselves 
 through conceptions with consciousness, and to determine 
 ourselves thus according to the conception of absolute 
 self-activity, and this thinking is the very consciousness 
 of our original tendency to absolute self-activity which 
 we were looking for. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Strictly speaking, our deduction is now ended. Its real 
 object was, as our readers know, to deduce the thought 
 that we are to act in a certain manner from the system 
 of reason in general, o r to show that the supposition of 
 a rational being involves necessarily also the supposition 
 that such a being thinks this thought. Such a deduction 
 is absolutely required for the science of a system of 
 reason, which science is itself its own end. 
 
 But such a deduction involves many other advantages 
 besides. Apart from the fact that we comprehend 
 nothing truly and well which we do not see arise 
 from its grounds, and that hence we can attain com- 
 plete insight into the morality of our being only through 
 such a deduction, it is likewise to be considered that the 
 comprehensibility which this deduction throws upon the 
 categorical imperative of Kant will remove from it the 
 appearance of an occult, quality which it has hitherto 
 borne (though without the positive fault of Kant), and 
 will thus be the surest means to annihilate the dark 
 region which that part of Kant's system left open 
 hitherto for various visionary theories to take refuge 
 in. Hence, also, it is all the more important to dissi- 
 pate completely, by manifold and freer views, the dark- 
 ness which may still rest upon our own deduction, but 
 which we could not thus dissipate well so long as we 
 were confined by the chains of systematic development. 
 
 I. The chief point of our deduction may be also stated 
 as follows: The rational being, considered as such, is 
 absolutely S5d independ ently its ow n ground. It is 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. <i<i 
 
 .origina lly (i.e., without any activity on its part) abso- 
 lutely nothing , and whatsoever it is to he it must first'' 
 make it^^p.lf hv its own activity. 
 
 This proposition is not proven, nor can it be proven. 
 It is absolutely demanded that each rational being should 
 thus find and accept itself. 
 
 In this manner, therefore, does each reader thin k 
 himself . Now tell uie, what is it really that you do 
 think when you think what I have required of you? 
 For I do not ask you to go beyond that conception, but 
 merely to make it clear to yourself by pure analysis. 
 
 The rational being is itself to bring forth whatsoever 
 it is actually to be. Hence you must ascribe to the 
 rational being, in advance of all actual (objective) being 
 thereof, some sort of an existence, as, indeed, we have 
 shown already in the previous chapter. This sort of 
 existing can be none other than an existence as intelli- 
 gence in and with conceptions. In your present con- 
 ception of a rational being you must, therefore, have 
 thought it as an intelligence. You must, moreover, have 
 ascribed to this intelligence the power of producing a 
 being through its mere conception, since you presuppose 
 it as intelligence for the very sake of discovering a 
 ground of being. In one word : in your conception of a 
 rational being you have thought precisely what we have 
 deduced in our second chapter under the nanle of freedom. 
 
 But now tell m£ — for upon this consideration every- 
 thing depends — how much have you gained in making 
 your conception of a rational being conceivable to you ? 
 When you thought the described characteristics, did you 
 think self-deter mination as essence of the E go ? By no 
 means ; you merely thought an empty undetermined 
 power of self-determining. This thought merely makes 
 possible the thought of an independent seLf-debermined 
 being, but does not make it actual, as which you certainly 
 thought it first. For a power, or faculty, is something 
 to which you merely can connect an actual being as to 
 
S6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 its ground — if such actual being were, for instance, 
 externally given to you ; but you are not compelled to 
 derive such actual being from it as its ground. The con- 
 ception of a power, or faculty, involves not the least 
 indication that an actuality, and what sort of an actuality, 
 will result from it. Perhaps that power of self- determin- 
 ing might never be used, or might be used only at times, 
 in which case you would receive either no self-determina- 
 tion, or an interrupted self-determination, i.e., which 
 would not be permanent, would not constitute the essence. 
 
 It was not in this manner that you thought the self- 
 determination of the rational being in the conception I 
 have asked you to analyse. You did not posit that 
 independence of the rational being as problematical, but 
 as categorical, or as the essence of reason. What it sig- 
 nifies to posit something as essential has been sufficiently 
 explained, namely, to posit something as necessarily 
 and inseparably involved in the conception ; as posited 
 together with the positing of the conception. But if 
 you thought self-determination as the necessary essence 
 of reason, then you posited self-determination and freedom 
 as necessity, which is a contradiction, and which you 
 cannot, therefore, have possibly thought. In nevertheless 
 thinking this permanent character of reason, you must, 
 therefore, have thought it in such a manner as to make 
 .possible at the same time the thinking of freedom. Your 
 determinateness was a determinateness of the free intelli- 
 gence ; but such a determinateness is a necessary thinking 
 (on the part of the intelligence) of self-determination, as 
 the rule by which the intelligence must necessarily resolve 
 freely to determine itself. 
 
 Your conception of self-determination, therefore, in- 
 volves both the power and the law to uninterruptedly 
 exercise this power; and you cannot think your concep- 
 tion without thinking these both united. Thus it has 
 appeared to you who freely resolved to philosophize, and 
 thus it will appear— since you philosophize according to 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 57 
 
 universal laws of reason— to every rational being, and 
 more especially to that rational being which we have 
 here posited as representative of reason in general, under 
 the name of the original Ego, and the system of thinking 
 whereof we are about to establish. If the Ego thinks 
 itself self-determined — and it is from this presupposition 
 that we start — then it necessarily thinks itself as free, 
 and — which is of chief importance to us here— it thinlcs 
 this its freedom under the law of self-determination. 
 This is the significance of our deduction. 
 
 But there are other ways of showing the necessity of 
 our deduced thought. Let the rational being think itself 
 free in the above merely formal significance of the word. 
 But it is finite, and each object of its reflection is 
 limited or determined for it through the mere reflection. 
 Hence, also, its freedom becomes limited or determined 
 for it. But what is a determinateness of freedom as 
 such ? We have just seen it. 
 
 Or, let me express it from the profoundest depth of 
 the system of transcendental philosophy, and in the 
 most decided and comprehensive manner. I am identity 
 of subject and object = X. ISTow, since I can only think 
 objects, and then separate a subject from them, I 
 cannot think such an X. Hence, I think myself as 
 subject and object. I unite both by reciprocally deter- 
 mining each through the other according to the law of 
 causality. My objective, determined through my sub- 
 jective, results in the conception of freedom as of a 
 power of self-determination. My subjective, determined 
 through my objective, results in the thought of the 
 necessity to determine myself through my freedom only 
 in accordance with the conception of self-determination, 
 which thought, since it is the thought of my original 
 determinateness, is an immediate first and absolute 
 thought. Now, neither is to be thought alone; not my 
 objective dependent upon my subjective, nor my sub- 
 jective dependent upon my objective, but both are to 
 
S8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 be thought as absolutely one. I think it as one by 
 reciprocally determining the one through the other in 
 their stated determinateness, i.e., by thinking free 
 as determining the law, and the law as determining .t he 
 jreedom. One is not thought without the other, and 
 when the one is thought the other is also thought. 
 "When you think yourself as free, you are forced to thin k 
 your freedom as acting under a law: and when ynn t.biTiV 
 
 this law YOU are forced to think yourself as free , since it 
 presupposes your freedom, and announces itself to be a 
 law for your freedom. 
 
 Freedom does not follow from the law, nor does the 
 law follow from freedom. Both are not two thoughts, 
 each of which were thought apart from the other, but 
 both are one and the same thought. It is a complete 
 synthesis ( according to the law of reciprocal determina- 
 tion), as," indeed, was stated above. Kant, in various 
 places, derives the conviction of our freedom from the 
 consciousness of the moral law. This is to be understood 
 as follows: The appearance of freedom is an immedia te 
 fact of consciousness, and is on no account derived I rom 
 another thought. Nevertheless, someone might want to 
 explain this appearance again, and thus to turn it into 
 a mere seeming. Now, there is no theoretical, but only a 
 practical, reason why we should not attempt any further 
 explanation, which practical reason is the firm resolve to 
 recognise practical reason as the superior, and the moral 
 law as the true and final destination of our being; and 
 not to turn this moral law again into a mere show, as is 
 certainly possible to a free imagination. Now, by not 
 going beyond this appearance of freedom in us, that 
 appearance becomes reality for us. Por the proposition, 
 I am free — freedom is the only true being, and the ground 
 of all other being— is a very different proposition Tfom 
 the one, I appear to myself as being free. It is, there- 
 fore, the faith in the objective validity of this appearance 
 which is to be deduced from the consciousness of the 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 
 
 59 
 
 moral law. I am truly free is the first article of faith 
 which opens us a path and transition into the world of 
 reason, and prepares a firm basis for it. This faith is, at 
 the same time, the point of union of both worlds, and 
 from it our system, which is to embrace both worlds, 
 takes its starting-point. Doing cannot be deduced from . 
 being , since the former would thereby be changed into a 
 seemmg, and I must not hold it for a seeming. Hence, on 
 the contrary, aU being is to be derived from doing. The 
 reality which being gains thereby does not detract from 
 our true destination, but is rather a gain for it. The 
 Ego is not to be deduced from the N'on Ep;o. and Life'^nor 
 from death: but the Non Ego on the contrary, is to be 
 deduced from the Ego, and, hence, it is from the Ego that 
 all philosophy must proceed. 
 
 2. The deduced thought has been called a law. It has 
 also been called by Kant a cateuorical imperativ e; and 
 the manner in which we think in this thought has been 
 called a, shaU-ing, in opposition to being; and common 
 sense has found itself surprisingly well expressed in 
 these designations. We shall show how these same views 
 proceed from our deduction. 
 
 It has been shown that we can think freedom as 
 standing under no law, but containing in itself alone the 
 ground of its determinedness; and we must think freedom 
 'thus if we want to think it correctly, since its essence 
 consists in thinking, and since thinking is absolutely un - 
 determinable through anything other than itself. Hence, 
 we can think freedom — it being determinable in all 
 possible manners — under a iixed rule, the conception of 
 which rule only the free intelligence can produce in 
 itself, and determine itself according to that rule. Thus 
 the free intelligence might, f or i nstance, proposs_ to itself 
 very different rul es or maxims — as. tor instance, ol 
 egotism, laziness, oppression of others, etc. — and might 
 follow these maxims uninterruptedly and without excep-| 
 I tion, although with full freedom. 
 
6o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 In this manner the intelligence would think a certain 
 acting as agreeing with its rule, and a ^nthpr actincr as 
 cbnflict ing with it. True, the real acting always remains 
 'clepenaent upon absolute freedom, since the acting of the 
 intelligence is not aotwally determined, is not mechanic- 
 ally necessary, but merely determined in the necessary 
 conception -thereof. How, then, is this necessity in the 
 mere conception to be designated, since it is no actual 
 necessity? It seems to me that it cannot be better 
 designated than thus;: a certain anting is 'pmne.rj is as it 
 ought t o be, or should be ; whereas the opposite acting is 
 improper, and should hot be. 
 
 Now, the conception of such a rule is, as we have 
 shown above, an absolutely first unconditioned conception. 
 having nn external p-round whatever, but having it s 
 ground in itself. Hence, such an acting is not to occur 
 
 "from this or thai reason, not because something else is 
 willed or ought to be, but it is simply to occur because 
 it ought to occur. It shall [or ought to'\ be absolutely 
 because it shall be. Hence this shalling, this " ought " or 
 " should," is an absolute and categorical shalling ; and 
 that rule is a rule valid without exception, since its 
 validity is subjected to no possible con dition. ' 
 
 fcio tar as tnis absolute siialling is, moreover, chought as 
 involving an imperative command, suppressing all othe r 
 inclination ad v erse to it, we cannot yet explain it, since 
 we relate it altogether to absolute freedom at present, 
 which freedom does not involve the thought of any 
 inclination. 
 
 3. The deduced thought has also been very properly 
 called autonomy, or self-legislation. It may be called so 
 in a threefold significance. 
 
 Firstly, because, when we presuppose the thought of 
 the law in general, and consider the Ego merely as free 
 
 intelligence, the law becomes a law in aenerai for the 
 
 Ego only , by the Ego reflecting upon and arbitraril y 
 / submitting itself to that law, or by actively making 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 6i 
 
 that law the irrevocable principle of all its actions ; and 
 becomes a law in a 'particular case only by the F.P-n 
 discovering, through its free judgment, what the la.w 
 
 ^ma y require in that case . Thus the whole moral exist- 
 ence of the intelligent being is nothing but an uninter- 
 rupted self-legislatinp or self-determining of the same, 
 and when this self-legislation ceases th ere immorality 
 begins. 
 
 ^Becbndly, because, so far as the content o f the law is 
 concerned, nothing is demanded but absolute indepen- 
 dence, absolute self-determination. Hence the material 
 determination of the will through the law is taken from 
 out of ourselves ; and all heteronomy — all borrowing of 
 grounds of determination from something external — is 
 absolutely in violation of the law. 
 
 Thirdly, b ecause the whole conception of our necessary 
 subjection to a law arises solely through an absolutely freei 
 reflection of the Ego upon itself in its true essence, i.e., 
 as self- determining. The deduced thought does not force 
 itself upon us immediately, which would be absolutely 
 incomprehensible, and would cancel the conception of an 
 intelligence ; but it is rather the condition, the necessary 
 manner of thinking freely. Hence the Ego places itself in 
 this whole relation of a lawfulness, and reason remains in 
 every respect its own law. 
 
 At the present place, it seems to me that it also 
 appears very clearly how reason can be yractica U and 
 how this practical reason is by no means the curious and 
 incomprehensible thing as which it has sometimes been 
 viewed, and is, indeed, not at all a second reason, but 
 rather the very same reason which we all recognize as 
 theoretical reason. 
 
 For r eason is not a thing which is and exists, but rather 
 a doing — pure, simple doing. Eeason contemplates itself ; 
 this reason can and does do simply because it is reason, 
 but reason cannot contemplate itself otherwise than as 
 wba t it is ; hence, as a doing. Now reason is finite, aud 
 
62 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 whatsoever reason represents becomes for reason, in so 
 representing it, determined and finite; hence also its 
 doing becomes a determined doing through this very 
 self - contemplation and the law of determinedness 
 ^ which it involves. But the determinedness of a pure 
 doing does not result in a ^^^ be i np. but in an ought, in 
 
 a shalling. Thus reason determines itself its activity; 
 
 and to determine an activity is an equivalent term with 
 to be practical. 
 
 In a certain sense of the word, it has always been 
 conceded that reason is practical, namely, in so far as 
 reason is means for realizing some external purpose, 
 either proposed^ by _jp4ir free arbitrariness, or by some 
 requirement of our nature. But in this sense of the 
 word, reason is merel y technical practica l. But we assert 
 here, that reason absolutely out of itself and through 
 itself proposes a purpose to itself; and in so far, reason 
 is ahsolutely practical . The practical dignity of reason is 
 its own absoluteness, its determinability solely throug h 
 itself and througn nothing outside of itself. Whosoever 
 does not recognize this absoluteness — and each one can 
 only find it in himself through contemplation — will 
 always regard reason as merely a faculty of argumen- 
 tation, which cannot put itself in motion until objects 
 are given to it from without; and will always find it 
 incomprehensible how reason can be absolutely practical, 
 since he cannot cease to believe that the conditions of 
 the executability of a law must be recognized before 
 the law can be accepted. 
 
 Eemakks. 
 
 A. The views which present themselves from this 
 standpoint in regard to a whole system of philosophy 
 are of a manifold character, and I cannot refrain from 
 mentioning at least one. 
 
 Reason determines through it self its own acting. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 63 
 
 because it is self -contemplating or finit e. This proposi- 
 tion has a double significance, since the acting of reason 
 may be regarded in a twofold manner. In a science of 
 morality it is chiefly related to the so-caUed acting 
 which is accompanied by the consciousness of freedom, 
 and which is, therefore, recognized as acting even on the 
 standpoint of common consciousness ; in other words, to 
 willinci a nd working . 
 
 But this proposition holds, likewise, good in regard to 
 that acting which is discovered to be an acting only from 
 the transcendental point of view, namely, the acting in 
 thinking. 
 
 Now, reason does not _ n ecessarily observe the law 
 which it proposes to itself as a moral being, because 
 that kw addresses itself t6 its freedom; but it does._ 
 necessarily ol }R_prvp- ^'^^^' ^^i"^ it proposes to itself as 
 a ..thinking being, because the intelligence, in contem- 
 plating that law, is active but not freely active . 
 
 Hence the whole system of reason — as wellTn regard 
 to that which shall be, and that which is postulated as 
 being in consequence of this shall, as also in regard to 
 that which is found as immediately T^oinrf— .i^ prAdptpy- 
 mined, as necessarv through Beason itself. 
 
 Now, Beason ought certainly to be able to dissolve 
 that which it has composed according to its own laws 
 by those same laws; and hence ^reason necessarily can 
 comp letely know itself . In other words: an analysis of 
 the whole procedure of reason, or a complete system of 
 reason, is possible. 
 
 Thus in our theory all parts join together, and the 
 necessary presupposition is possible only on condition of 
 the results arrived at. Either all philosophy must be 
 abandoned, or the absolute autonomy of reason must be 
 admitted. Only on this presupposition is the conception 
 of a philosophy rational. All doubts, or all denials of 
 the possibility of a system of reason, are grounded on the 
 presupposition of an heteronomy, or on the presupposition 
 
 VR 
 
 ?* 
 
64 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 that reason can be determined by something outside of 
 itself. But such a presupposition is absolutely irrational, 
 is a contradiction of reason. 
 
 B. The principle of morality is the necessary thought 
 of the intelligence that it ought to determine its freedom 
 without exception in accordance with the conception of 
 self-determination. 
 
 It is a thought, and not a feeling or a contemplation, 
 although this thought grounds itself upon the intellectual 
 contemplation of the absolute activity of the intelligence. 
 It is a pure though t, with which not the least particle of 
 feeling or sensuous contemplation can be mixed up, since 
 it is the immediate conception which the pure intelligence 
 has of itself as such. It is a necessary thought, since 
 it is the form in which the freedom of the intelligence 
 is thought. It is the,^?'s^and dbsolate thought, for since 
 it is the thought of the thinking itself, it does not ground 
 itself upon any other thought as its sequence or as con- 
 ditioned by that other thought. 
 
 The content of this thought is, that the free being . 
 shall act in a certain manner, for the shalling is the 
 expression of a determinedness of freedom. The-content 
 of this thought is, moreover, that the free being shall 
 ' determine its freedom by a law, and that this law shall 
 be none other than the conception of absolute self-ddef - 
 mination (absoliite undeterminability through anything 
 
 externaij'; and, finally, that this law shall be vali d 
 without any exception, because "it involves the original 
 determinedness of the free being. 
 
 -■&• 
 
 C. In our argument we proceeded from the presupposi- 
 tion that the essenc e of the Ego consists in its self-deter- 
 mination ; or, ratner, since thi s self-determination can be 
 thougnt as actual only under certain conditions not yet 
 established, in its tendency to " self-determination!! W? 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 65 
 
 have investigated how, under this presupposition, the 
 Ego must think it sfilL. Hence, we started from an 
 objective being of the Ego. But is the E goi n itself 
 objective, or without relation to a consciousness ? Was 
 not the Ego whereof we commenced speaking in our 
 first chapter related to a consciousness? We doubtless 
 related it to our own philosophizing consciousness. But 
 now let us relate it to the consciousness of the original 
 Ego, for only thus do we get a correct view from the 
 transcendental standpoint of our deduction; for our 
 deduction is not dogmatic, but transcend entaUy idealisti c. 
 We do not claim t o evolve a thinking from a being in 
 itself, for the Ego is only for and in the knowledge of 
 the Ego. Our claim, on the contrary, is to establish an 
 original system of thinking itself, an original connecting" 
 of the assertions of reason with each other. 
 
 The rational being posits itself as absolutely self- 
 determining because it is self-determining, and it is 
 self-determining because it posits itself as such; it is in 
 this relation subject-object = X. Now, in so positing 
 itself, it posits itself partly as free, i n the above signifi- 
 cance of this word, whilst partly it subordinates its__ 
 freedom to the law of self-determination. These two 
 conceptions are involved in the conception of the self- 
 determination of the Ego, or the conception of self-deter- 
 mination involves these conceptions: both are one and 
 the- same. 
 
 D. Certain objections and misunderstandings may 
 render necessary, moreover, the following: — 
 
 We do not assert that on the standpoint of common 
 consciousness we become conscious of the connection of 
 the deduced thought with its grounds. For it is well 
 known that the insight into the grounds of facts of 
 consciousness belo ngs to philosophy, and is possible 
 only from the transcendental point of view. Nor do 
 we assert that this thought occurs amongst the facts 
 F 
 
66 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 of common consciousness in the generality and ab- 
 straction wherein we have represented it ; or, in 
 other words, that we can become immediately con- 
 scious of such a law for our freedom in general. It is 
 only through philosophical abstraction that we arrive at 
 this generality, and this abstraction is undertaken in 
 order to be able to establish the problem definitely. In 
 common consciousness there occurs only a determined 
 and never an abstract thinking as fact, for all abstraction 
 presupposes a free acting o^the intelligence. We only 
 assert, therefore, this : When we think determined actua l 
 ^cts as free, we feel constrained to thi nk, at t he sam e 
 time, that they ought to be do ne in a certain manner . 
 Sonie~nien~may never be in a position to experience the 
 truth of this our assertion in the thinking of their own 
 acts, because they are actuated, perhaps, by passions and 
 desires, and never become clearly conscious of their own 
 freedom; but everyone will certainly discover the truth 
 of this assertion in judging those acts of other persons 
 which he considers to be free acts. Hence, if anyone^ 
 (l enies the pr inciple of morality, so fajasji^jown_gerson 
 is concerned, as"^r7act of his con scioiisne ss, he can do so. 
 
 and it_cannot be proven to him, sinc e a universal mor ality 
 ^^cann ot exTst as immediate fact "of consciousness by lis 
 very concep tion. But if he denies the application of this 
 moral law to separate free acts, it will be easy enough to 
 show him, at least in his judgment of the acts of others, 
 that he always does make use of that application. N^o 
 one, for instance, gets angry at the flame which consumes 
 his house, but he does at the man who set the house on 
 fire. Were he not a fool to get angry at the man, unless 
 he presupposes that the man could have acted and ought 
 to have acted otherwise ? 
 
BOOK SECOND. 
 
 DEDUCTION OF THE REALITY AND 
 APPLICABILITY OF THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY, 
 
 Preliminary. 
 
 I. What does the reality ^ or applicability of a principle. 
 or of a conception, signify ? And what reality does attach 
 in particular to our present conception of morality ? 
 
 A conception has reality and applicability signifies : 
 our world — i.e., the world of our consciousness- — is deter - 
 mined bv it in a certain respec t. It belongs to those 
 conceptions through which we think objects, and there 
 are certain characteristics in it for us, because we think 
 them through this conception. To hunt up the reality of 
 a conception, signifies, therefore : to inyestigate how and 
 in what manner objects are determined by it. I will 
 make this clearer by some examples. 
 
 The conception of causality has reality, for through it 
 there arises in the manifold objects of my world a certain 
 connection, by virtue of which I must proceed from the 
 one to the other, and can conclude from the effect as to 
 the cause, and from a known cause as to the effect : the 
 thinking of the one always, as it were, accompanying 
 the thinking of the other. The conception of Law h as 
 reality. For in the infinite sphere of freedom (ie.f of 
 heing free as objective, for only on this condition do I 
 occupy the standpoint of lawV I necessarily thiak my 
 sphere as limited, and hence think freedom, or free beings, 
 "o utside of me^ with whom I come in contact through 
 
 67 
 
68 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 the mutual limitation of our freedom. Hence, through 
 that" conception I first arnvea^tne conception of a 
 community of free beings. 
 
 But in the determination of our world through these 
 two conceptions of causality and legality there is a 
 remarkable distinction, to which I desire to call atten- 
 tion, since it aptly prepares the solution of the question 
 we have here chiefly at heart. From these two concep- 
 tions, mainly, there flows the absolutely valid theoretical 
 propositions that every cause has its effect and that all 
 men, as such, have legal rights. Nevertheless, in practice, 
 only the one is absolutely valid. Por, whereas I cannot 
 have even the desire to deprive, in practice, an effect of 
 its cause, I _can not only Jiave the desire, but likewise the 
 power, to treat men as if they had no rights. I n other 
 words : whereas the theoretical conviction that men have 
 rights does not compel physical acknowledgment ; the 
 theoretical conviction that every effect has its cause 
 does so. 
 
 At present we speak of the^raociple, o r conception, of . 
 mm-oM^j,^ This conception has been~3ec[uced as a deter- 
 mined form of thinking, or as the only possible manner 
 of thinking our freedom ; hence the consciousness of our 
 freedom has certainly been already determined through 
 this conception. But this determination was only im- 
 mediate, and it is very possible that the conception of 
 our freedom determines something else mediately. 
 
 The conception of morality, as its deduction has shown, 
 does not relate to anything that is, but to something that 
 is to be. It proceeds purely from the essence of reason, 
 without any foreign mixture, and requires nothing but 
 self-determination; it pays no attention to experience, 
 but rather contradicts all determination through objects 
 of experience. Hence, when we speak of its reality, we 
 cannot mean that the mere thinking of it realises results 
 in the world of appearances. The object of this concep- 
 tion, i.e., that which arises in us when we think it, can 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OP MORALITY. 69 
 
 only be an idea; a mere thought in us, of which we do 
 not at all pretend that something in the external world 
 corresponds to it. The first question would, therefore, 
 seem to be: what, then, is this idea? or, since ideas 
 cannot be taken hold of, what is the manner in which 
 to describe them? In popular language: "You tell us 
 that we shall do something ; wjiat is it that we shall do ? " 
 
 -/' 
 
 2. That which we think in /virtue of the conception of 
 morality, or the object determined by that conception, is 
 the idea of what we shall do. But we can do nothing I 
 unless we have an object of our activity in the .sensnmi s I 
 world.^ Whence this object, and through what is it 
 determined ? 
 
 I shall [ought to] do something signifies: I shall produce 
 it externally, or, since it proposes to me an infinite end, 
 as it never is. but always merely shall he, I shall in, all 
 my external actions work so as constantly to draw nearer 
 to that end. 
 
 But I must always have an object of my activity, since 
 I am finite, and hence I cannot produce what I am to 
 produce out of nothing. 
 
 The sensuous world must, therefore, contain something 
 which is to be the object of my activity in my endeavour 
 to approach the realization of that infinite and unattaia- 
 able idea. What, then, is this sphere of the sensuous 
 world, to which the requirements of the moral law in me 
 relate themselves ? How am I to arrive at a know- 
 ledge, and particularly at a systematic knowledge, of 
 this sphere? Moreover, how am I to know how this 
 law requires me to act in regard to each special object 
 in, this sphere? 
 
 It is immediately clear that that upon which I am to 
 act must be of such a nature that I can act upon it, or 
 that I must have the physical power to mould it. Let 
 us explain this. 
 
^o . THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 The free rational being acts as an intelligence, i.e., 
 according to a conception of the efifect to be produced, 
 which conception exists in advance of the production of 
 the effect. Hence the object of its activity must at least 
 be of such a nature that it can be thought by the intelli- 
 gence, and can be so thought as either being or not being 
 ' {i.e., as accidental in regard to its being), the intelligence 
 then choosing between the being or not being thereof, by 
 producing its conception of the end to be achieved. 
 
 Here we have immediately a limited sphere of the 
 general sphere of sensuousness, wherein to look for that 
 which is physically possible to our power of causality. 
 For there is a large sphere in our world which appears 
 to us as necessary, and which we can never think, and 
 hence also not will — since our willing is conditioned by 
 our laws of thinking, and is always preceded by a co n- 
 ception — except as necessary. Another sphere of "Jjur 
 world", however, appears to us as accidental . 
 
 For instance : I cannot will to posit any thing out of 
 space, since I cannot think it out of space ; on the other 
 hand, I can very well think a thing in another place in 
 space than that which it occupies ; hence I also can will 
 to change its place. 
 
 A thorough and complete philosophy has to show up the 
 ground why some things thus appear to us as accidental ; 
 and by doing this, at the same time to fix the sphere and 
 the limits of this accidental. At present we have not 
 even proposed these questions to ourselves, much less 
 answered them. 
 
 In making this investigation we may, perhaps, be 
 guided by the remark that the characteristic of acci- 
 dentalness is usually a proof that we think something 
 as product of our freedom; or, at least, that we think 
 all t he products of o ur freedom as accidental (a propo- 
 sition established and proved in the general science of 
 knowledge). Thus, for instance, representation, when 
 related to the being of the represented object, is held 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 71 
 
 to^ be accidental. The being of the object, we judge, 
 might well be, although there were no representation of 
 it; and this judgment we make because we find the 
 representation to be, in its form, a product of the 
 absolute freedom of thinking, but in its content a pro- 
 duct of the necessity of thinking. 
 
 Perhaps it may result, from an analogy, that all that 
 _is accidental in the world of appearances is to be in a 
 certain sense deduce d from the conception of freedom, 
 and to be regarded as the product of freedom . Let us 
 assume this proposition to be coniirmed; what can it 
 signify? Certainly not that these objects are posited 
 through the ideal activity of the intelligenc e in its 
 function as productive power of imaginatio n; for this, 
 in a science of morality, is presupposed as well known 
 from the fundamental science of knowledge, and does not 
 apply merely to the objects of our world which are 
 thought as accidental, but also to those which are 
 thought as necessary. ISTor can it signify that they are 
 posited as products of our actual practical causality in 
 the sensuous world, for this contradicts the presuppo- 
 sition that they are regarded as things actually existing 
 independently of us. Hence the assumed proposition 
 would have to signify, perhaps, about this, ihat our 
 freedom itself is a theoretical determining principle o f our 
 "world . 
 
 Let us explain this. Oar world is absolutely nothing 
 but the Kon Ego, i s posited solely to explain the limited- 
 ness of the Ego, and hence receives all its determinations 
 only through opposition to the Ego. Now the Ego is to 
 have the exclusive predicate of freedom. If the assumed 
 proposition should be confirmed, therefore, this same 
 predicate of the Ego, freedom, would be a determining 
 principle of the opposite to the Ego, the external world ; 
 and thus the conception of heing free would furnish a 
 theoretical law of thinking which rules with necessity 
 over the ideal activity of the intelligence. 
 
7-' THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Examples of this sort of a determination of an object 
 we have already met in our science of rights. Because 
 we are free, we th en po sited the objects of our world a s 
 mt)difiable. assunied other rational beings like ourselve's, 
 and ascrilDed to ourselves bodies moveable through o ur 
 mere will, etc., etc. But in the present instance our 
 investigation will have to go still further back, and 
 establish the proofs of these assertions still more ex- 
 haustively, since we have now arrived at the very 
 ultimate and primary of all reason. 
 
 If the assumption that a part of our external world 
 is determined through freedom as theoretical principle 
 should be confirmed, and if it should appear that this 
 part constitutes the sphere of the objects of our duties , 
 then the law of freedom will but have continued, as a 
 practical law addressed to consciousness, what it has itself 
 commenced as theoretical principle without conscious- 
 ness of the intelligence. It will have determined for 
 itself, and through itself, the sphere wherein it rules; it 
 cannot utter anything now in its present quality which 
 it has not already uttered in its previous quality. This 
 law of freedom has first determined somewhat in general, 
 and has posited this somewhat as constituted in this or 
 that manner; and now it also preserves this somewhat 
 in that same qualitativeness thereof by means of our 
 practical freedom which that law controls. Hence the 
 content of this law in its practical function might also 
 ., be thus expressed : act in conformity with thy cognitio n 
 of the original determinations (of the final ends) of tE e 
 external things. .For instance, theoretically the con - 
 ception of my freedom involves the pro-position : All rne^ n 
 are tree. T he same connentioTi. regarded practically, 
 results in the command : You shall treat every man as a 
 free being. Again, the theoretical proposition says: Jky 
 body is instrument of my activity in the sensuous world. 
 The same proposition, regarded as practical command, 
 says : Treat your body only as a means of realizing your 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 73 
 
 freedom and self-determination. hnt,-]j f?Yr J^'eat it as an 
 end in itself, or as object of an enjoyment. 
 
 Now if "all these assumptions should be"^ confirmed, the 
 principle of morality would receive quite another signifi- 
 cance yet than the one previously established; and the 
 question which we proposed above: whence do we ^et 
 the objects for the proposed activity, and how are we to 
 arrive at a knowledge of them? would be completely 
 answered. The principle of morality would show itself 
 to be both a theoretical principle, w hich as such furnishes 
 itself its own content (the determined content of the law), 
 and a practical principle, which as such f urnishe.s itself its 
 own /orm, that of a command. The moral principle would 
 thus return into itself, and stand in reciprocal relation 
 with itself, and we should thus receive a complete and 
 satisfactory system from one point. Something outside 
 of us has this or that final end, because we are to treat 
 it thus; and we are to treat it thus because it has this 
 final end. We should thus have arrived at the desired 
 idea of that which we owght to do, and at the same time 
 at the substrate, in which we are to approach the realiza- 
 tion of this idea. 
 
 3. What does the conception of a physical power to mould 
 objects signify, and how does this conception arise in us ? 
 
 Let us first ask: Of what are we really conscious 
 when we believe to be conscious of our causality in the 
 sensuous world? What can this immediate conscious- 
 ness involve, and what can it not involve ? 
 
 We are immediately conscious of our conception of an 
 end, or of our real willing ; of an absolute self-determin- 
 ing, through which our whole soul is gathered together, as 
 it were, into one point. We, moreover, become immedi- 
 ately conscious of the reality and of an actual sensation of 
 the object (which previously we only thought in the con- 
 ception of the end) as a given object in the sensuous world. 
 
 (Somebody might interrupt us here and say, we are 
 also conscious of our labours in the production which 
 
74 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 occurs between the resolve of the will and its realization 
 in the sensuous world. But I reply, that it is not a 
 particular consciousness, but simply the already pointed 
 out and gradually realized consciousness of our satisfac- 
 tion. This consciousness begins with the forming of the 
 resolve, and successively continues as the willing is suc- 
 cessively continued, until the whole conception of the end 
 is completely realized. Hence this consciousness is only the 
 synthetic uniting of the two established kinds of con- 
 sciousness, the willing and the willed, as an activity.) 
 
 But we are on no account conscious of the connection 
 between our willing and the sensation of the reality of 
 what we willed. According to our assertion, our will is 
 to be the cause of this reality. How may this be ? Or, 
 transcendentally spoken : how may we come to assume 
 this conscious harmony between a conception of an end 
 and an actual object outside of us, the ground of which 
 harmony is to lie in the former and not in the latter ? 
 
 Let me clear up this question through opposition. The 
 conception of cognition is to be a reconstruction of an 
 external somewhat, but the conception of an end, or 
 purpose, is to be a preconstruction for an external some- 
 what. And as in the case of the former conception of 
 cognition there arises very properly a question con- 
 cerning the ground (not of the harmony in itself, for this 
 would be nonsense, since unity and harmony between 
 opposites exists only in so far as an intelligence thinks 
 it, but) of the assuming of such a harmony between the 
 conception (as secondary) and the thing (as primary) ; so 
 in the case of the latter conception of a purpose we ask 
 for the ground of assuming a harmony between the thing, 
 as secondary, and the conception, as primary. 
 
 In the case of the concep tion of cognition t hat question 
 was answered in this manner: both the thing andthe 
 
 ■ II ,m^^^^^^ 
 
 CONCEPTION ARE ONE AND THE SAME, ONLY VIEWED I N 
 DIFFEKENT WAYS; THE CONCEPTION, PROVIDED IT IS A 
 NECESSARY CONCEPTION OF REASON, IS ITSELF THE THING; 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 75 
 
 AND THE THING I S NOTHING BDT THE NECESSAEYjCOJf- 
 CEPTION OE ITSELF. ~ 
 
 How, if we were to receive the same answer in the 
 case of the conception of a purpose, namely, that that 
 
 WHICH WE BELIEVE TO HAVE PROnnOBT) TN TTTff, ff.Y TF.pyTAT. 
 WORLD, IS NOTHING BUI QUE CONCEPTION OF A PURPOS E 
 ITSELF, REGARDED .IN , 4, CpT|T,ATN MANNE R ? "with this dis" 
 
 tinction, that the harmony in this case occurs only under 
 a certain condition, characterized in this manner: Of 
 whatsoever stands under this condition we say, " This 
 we can do " ; but of whatsoever does not stand under it 
 we say, "This we can not do." 
 
 That which I willed is, when it becomes real, an object 
 of a sensation. Hence a determine d_feeling must occur,, 
 in virtue whereof it is posited, since all reality occurs for 
 me only on this condition. My willing, t herefore, must, 
 in the present case, be accompanied by a feeling r elating 
 itself to that which I willed ; and by this result we gain 
 at least so much that the sphere of our investigation is 
 solely in the Ego, and that we have to speak only of 
 what occurs in ourselves, but not of what occurs outside 
 of us. 
 
 Feeling is always the expression of our limitedness. 
 But in our special case there is a transition from a 
 feeling related to the object as it is independently of 
 us, to another feeling related to the same object as it is 
 to be modified through our activity. Hence, since the 
 latter is to be a product of our freedom, there occurs a 
 transition from a limited to a less limited condition. 
 
 We are now able to express our problem more definitely 
 thus : How is an actual extension of 011/r limits connected 
 with self-determination through freedom {or willing); or 
 transcendentally expressed: How do we come to assume 
 such an extension? 
 
 Every assumption of a new reality ou tside of me is a 
 ^further Setermi hTltfon ot my W6tld , a'cEange of my woria' 
 in my cohsciousness. " JNow, my world is determined 
 
76 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 through opposition to myself, and my original world, 
 i.e., as I find it independently existing; through oppo- 
 sition to myself, as I find myself necessarily existing. 
 Hence a change in (a changed manner of viewing) my 
 world must have a change in (a changed manner of 
 viewing) myself as its basis. 
 
 If Iw^, therefore, a ble to change something in 
 my self thr ouglir my" will, this wo uld necessarily a lso 
 changejg^^mtrpanS if the possibility of the former were 
 "demonstrated," tlie possibility of the latter were explained 
 at the same time. M.U world \s changed, signifies: J am 
 changed ; my world is determined differently, signifies : 2 
 am determined differently. 
 
 The problem, at present, is to be put into this shape : 
 What does this signify : I change myself ? If we only 
 answer this question, then the other question, How I can 
 change the world, is answered at the same time. 
 
 Whenever I but will, I determine myself , concentrate 
 my whole essence away from everything indefinite and 
 merely determinable into one solitary determined point, 
 as we have just stated. At present : T change myself; 
 but not all willing results in the occurrence of the willed. 
 Hence the Ego which is to be changed by every act of 
 the will, and that Ego through the change whereof our 
 view of the world changes likewise, must be different, 
 and from a determination of the former a determination 
 of the latter must not result necessarily. Now, which 
 Ego is the former Ego ? This we know from our second 
 chapter, namely, that Ego which through absolutely 
 reflecting itself has torn itself loose from itself, and 
 posited itself as independent ; or in other words, the Ego 
 which is solely dependent upon its conception. 
 
 Now, is there still another Ego ? According to what 
 we have said undoubtedly, namely, jhe Ego from which 
 th e former Ego (wherein the intelligence "has precedence) 
 lia"s torn itsel f loosein order to posit itself as indep endent ; 
 or, in other words, the objective tending and impelling . 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 77 
 
 Let us assume this impelling to be directed upon a 
 certain determined determination of the will, as it doubt- 
 less is, since it can only be thought as a determined 
 impelling, Now let us posit a free determination of the 
 will which does not harmonize, or is not required by this 
 impulsion or tendency; and to posit this is certainly 
 allowable, since the J reedom of the will stands absolute ly 
 under no condition except that of thinkability . and has 
 expressly torn itself loose from tbp inflnenpp. of \^ p: 
 impuls e. In this case the Ego would remain, so to 
 speak, divided; the i mpu lse or tendency would not 
 ha rmonize with the will , and I would be conscious 
 merely of my willing, of my mere empty willing. A part 
 of the Ego would be changed, namely, the condition of 
 its will; but not the whole Ego, since the tendency 
 would remain in the same condition, i.e., unsatisfied, not 
 having acquired the will which did occur, but rather an 
 utterly different one. If we posit, on the contrary, the 
 will determination to be in harmony with the impulse , 
 then that separation no longer occurs; the whole united 
 Ego is changed, and our world also is now to be deter- 
 mined by this change. 
 
 In order to unite all the views thus obtained, let us 
 glance back at what we have said above. It is very 
 possible, as we have assumed, that our world itself be 
 determined in a certain respect, in accordance with the 
 just mentioned original tendency of the Ego, or with 
 freedom itself as a theoretical principle. But that in 
 accordance vdth which another (the world) is to be 
 determined must be itself determined. Hence in this 
 connection we have freedom as objective, and therefore 
 theoxiginaLand essential tendency of all reason. Through 
 this freedom as theoretical principle our world would, 
 therefore, be determined, and through this principle more 
 specially our world would receive the character of acci- 
 dentalness, and hence of the possibihty to change it 
 through free resolves. 
 
78 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 The result of all we have problematically established 
 would, therefore, be this: the ground of the connection 
 of the appearances with our wiUing is the connection of 
 our willing with nature. We can do that to which our 
 nature impels us, and we can not do that to which our 
 nature does not impel us, but which we resolve to do by- 
 unrestrained freedom of imagination. 
 
 It is to be remarked that the possibility of fulfilling 
 the moral law is here determined through the moral law 
 itself (automatically), and not through an external prin- 
 ciple (not heteronomically). 
 
 To remove all misapprehension, we add that this 
 impelling of our iiature which determines our physical 
 faculties need not be the moral law itself. For we also 
 have the physical power to execute immoral acts. Here, 
 therefore, it will probably be necessary to draw a new 
 line of distinction. We may say, however, so much, that 
 the commands of the moral law must fall within the lines 
 of our physical power; and by saying this we have at 
 once removed the objection that it is impossible to satisfy 
 the requirements of the moral law. 
 
 The object of these preliminary remarks was to see 
 what our present deduction has to accomplish. This 
 object we have attained. It is clear that our deduction 
 must establish the proof of the following :— 
 
 A. The rational being which, according to the previottg ' 
 bqok, is to posit itself as absolutely free and inde penden t,/ 
 cannot ao tins without at the same tune determming its 
 worl'd~"tBeoretically in a certai n manner, xnai Lhiniil'Ba, 
 
 "of 'lE^'gSlfr'gEQ 'this thinking of its world, occur through^ 
 the same act, and are absolutely one and the same think- 
 ing ; both are integral parts of one and the same synthesis. 
 Fis eedom is a theoretical principle ^- — . -'-' 
 
 B. Fpepdoni, which our first book alsp showed to be 
 a practical law, relates itself to those world-determina- 
 tion^, and requires their maintenaiice and completijoii. 
 
CHAPTEE I. 
 
 DEDUCTION OF AN OBJECT OF OUR ACTIVITY IN GENEEAL. 
 
 FiEST Proposition. — The rational being cannot ascribe a 
 power of activity to itself without at the same time thinking 
 an external somewhat upon which that activity is directed. 
 
 Preliminary Eemark, 
 
 All the propositions advanced in our first book are 
 merely formal, and have no material significance. We 
 see that we shall, but do neither comprehend what we 
 shall, nor wherein to represent what we shall. This 
 arises, indeed, from the same circumstance which gives 
 rise to all formal philosophizing; we have established 
 abstract but not concrete thought; we have described a 
 reflection, as such, in general, without, however, deter- 
 mining it, or establishing the conditions of its possibility. 
 This was not a fault, since systematic progression com- 
 pelled such a procedure, and since we were well aware 
 all the time that the mere establishing of these formal 
 propositions would not finish our labours, but rather 
 compel us to proceed further. 
 
 This remark points out definitely our present task. 
 We have now to establish the condition of the possibilitj^ 
 of the reflection, undertaken in our first book. It will 
 appear that the first condition we shall need is again 
 dependent upon another condition, and that again upon 
 another, etc., and that we shall thus arrive at a series of 
 conditions, which we propose to gather under the form of 
 a series of prepositions. 
 
8o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 It likewise appears from this consideration that, 
 although we enter in the present book upon a diiferent 
 sphere, we do not do so by a leap, but in a gradual 
 pragression of systematic argument, and that our present 
 book takes up the thread precisely where the first book 
 left it. In that book the assertion was, that, as sure as 
 we become conscious of ourselves, we ascribe to ourselves 
 an absolute power of freedom. At present we ask : How 
 is this possible ? and thus connect the conditions about to 
 be ascertained with the consciousness of freedom, and by 
 its means with immediate self-consciousness, which latter 
 connecting does in reality constitute the essence of a 
 philosophical deduction. 
 
 It is true, as will soon appear, that the proofs about to 
 be established in this book require the same inner con- 
 templation of the activity whereby we originate the 
 conceptions here investigated, which was required in the 
 first book. Hence we might certainly have shaped the 
 propositions of this. book just as well into the form of 
 problems ; and our present first proposition, for instance, 
 into the problem: To definitely think our power of 
 freedom, etc. But apart from the intention to show 
 the freedom of our method, and to protect our system 
 against too monotonous an arrangement, we likewise had 
 in view to state with precision the point upon which 
 attention is to be directed in determining that thought, 
 since there are various conditions and determinations 
 of it. 
 
 Explanatory. 
 
 Doubtless everyone who hears the words of the above 
 first proposition will understand them to signify: It is 
 simply impossible that anyone can think his power of 
 freedom without at the same time imagining an objective 
 somewhat upon which he acts with this freedom; 
 although it be no determined object, but merely the 
 form of objectivity in general. Thus, indeed, the words 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 8i 
 
 are to be understood, and in this respect they need no 
 explanation. But in another respect some explanations 
 are certainly necessary as well in regard to the form of 
 our assertion, or the condition under which it is to be 
 valid, as also in regard to the content of the same. 
 
 So far as the former is concerned, someone might say : 
 You have just now in the first book required us to think 
 the mere power of freedom without any object, and if we 
 were not able to do so all your teachings have been lost 
 on us. I reply : The abstract thinking in philosophy, the 
 possibility whereof is itself conditioned through a pre- 
 vious experience (for our life begins with life and not 
 with philosophy), is quite a different thing from the 
 original and determined thinking on the standpoint of 
 experience. The conception of freedom, as entertained 
 by us in the first book, arose for us through abstraction 
 or through analysis ; but we should not have been at all 
 able thus to originate it, unless we had previously had 
 possession of it as given or found. Now at present we 
 are speaking of this very condition of the primary and 
 not of the philosophizing Ego ; and our meaning is, you 
 cannot find yourself as free without finding at the same 
 time in the same consciousness an object upon which 
 your freedom is to be directed. 
 
 So far as the latter is concerned, it is to be observed 
 that we assert an absolute synthesis of thinking, of a 
 power and of an object, hence a reciprocal conditioned- 
 ness of one thinking through another. N"ot, as- if the one 
 were in time prior to the other, for both are the thought 
 of the same moment; nay, there is, even if we look 
 merely to the fact that both are thought, no dependence 
 of the one upon the other to be assumed, consciousness 
 being rather irresistibly impelled from the one to the 
 other. But if we look to how both are thought, then 
 we meet this distinction, that the thinking of freedom is 
 an immediate thinking, in virtue of an intellectual con- 
 templation, whereas the thinking of the object is a 
 
 
82 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS, ' 
 
 mediated thinking. We do not see the former through 
 the latter, but we do see the latter through the former- 
 Freedom is our vehicle for the cognition of objects, but 
 the cognition of objects is not the vehicle for the cogni- 
 tion of our freedom. 
 
 Finally, two things have been asserted. Firstly, that 
 an object, which is to be external to the intelligence, is 
 thought ; and, secondly, that free activity is related to it, 
 and related in such a manner that the object is deter- 
 mined through the activity and not, vice versd, the 
 activity through the object. Our proof will, therefore, 
 have to establish two things : 1st, the necessity of oppo- 
 sition; and, 2nd, the necessity of relation and of this 
 determined relation. 
 
 Proof. 
 
 A. The rational being cannot ascribe to itself a power 
 of freedom without thinking at the same time many 
 actual and determined acts as possible through its 
 freedom. 
 
 The latter part of the proposition advances nothing 
 further than the first part ; both are identical. I ascribe 
 freedom to myself, signifies : I think a number of different 
 acts as equally possible through my activity. An insight 
 into the truth of this proposition requires nothing further 
 than to analyze our conception of a power of freedom. 
 
 A power, or faculty, is absolutely nothing but a product 
 of mere thinking, made in order to connect with it — since 
 finite reason can only think discursively and mediately — 
 an actuality, not posited originally, but originating in 
 time. To think anything else under that conception is 
 not to understand one's self. In our present case we are, 
 however, not to draw a conclusion from the actuaUty as 
 to the power of activity, as may be well done in other 
 cases; but thinking is rather to begin with the power 
 as the first and immediate. Yet even under this con- 
 dition the power cannot be thought without at the same 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 83 
 
 time thinking the actuality, since both conceptions are 
 synthetically united, and since without the thinking of 
 the latter we can neither think a faculty nor anything 
 else. I say expressly: actuality must be thought (not 
 immediately perceived) ; must be thought, not (if I may 
 so express myself) as real, but simply as possible, through 
 a mere ideal function of the imagination. Actuality is 
 perceptibility, sensibility. This perceptibility is posited 
 as necessary, not in its essence, but merely in its form. 
 We ascribe to the Ego the power to produce sensibility, 
 but only the power and not the actual deed. The 
 question, how reason may originally come to this mere 
 form, wiU be explained hereafter. At present it suffices 
 to know that we can think this form, and by its means a 
 mere faculty or power. 
 
 Now in the present case we are to think a free power 
 of activity, and not a determined power, the manner of 
 manifestation whereof would be involved in its own 
 nature, as is the case in objects. How does a rational 
 being proceed in order to think such a free power ? We 
 can only describe this procedure, leaving it to each reader 
 to convince himself of the correctness of this our descrip- 
 tion by his own inner contemplation. 
 
 The Ego posits itself (but only idealiter, i.e., it only 
 represents itself as such, without actually being such or 
 finding itself as such in point of fact), as choosing 
 voluntarily amongst opposite determinations of actuality. 
 Eor instance, this object = A, which we find already 
 determined independently of us, might also be deter- 
 mined otherwise, for instance = X ; or also still otherwise, 
 for instance = -X; or still otherwise ad infinitum. Now, 
 whether the Ego chooses either of these determinations, or 
 none of them, leaving A as it is, depends solely upon the 
 freedom of its thinking. But whichever I choose will 
 surely arise for my perception in the sensuous world, 
 provided I determine myself through the will to pro- 
 duce it. Only in so far as I thus posit myself, do 
 
84 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 I posit myself as free, i.e., do I think actuality as 
 dependent upon actual power, which is controlled by my 
 mere thinking; as each one must acknowledge, who but 
 clearly thinks this thought. 
 
 Let it be observed that in this thinking we do not 
 think a determined somewhat = X, which is to be pro- 
 duced, but merely the general form of determinedness, 
 i.e., the mere power of the Ego, to select this or that 
 from the range of the accidental, and make it its end. 
 
 B. The rational being cannot think an act as actual 
 without assuming an external somewhat, upon which the 
 act is directed. 
 
 Let us once more attentively observe the just described 
 manner of thinking freedom. We said: I think myself 
 in this conception as choosing. Let us now direct our 
 attention altogether to this Ego represented as choosing. 
 It doubtless thinks, and only thinks; hence in choosing 
 we only ascribe ideal activity to it. But" it also surely 
 thinks something, floats over something, which holds it 
 enchained ; or, as we usually say to express this relation : 
 There is an objective, for only by means of such a relation 
 is the Ego subjective and ideal. 
 
 This objective is not the Ego itself, and cannot be held 
 as belonging to the Ego ; neither to the Ego as intelligence, 
 as such, since to this Ego it is expressly opposited, nor to 
 the Ego as the willing and realiter active Ego, since this 
 Ego is not yet in action, the Ego at present merely deter- 
 mining its choice and not its actual will. This objection 
 is not the Ego, and yet it also is not nothing, but is some- 
 what. It is an object of representation in general, leaving 
 undecided its reality or perceivability. In other words, 
 it is a Non Ego, a somewhat which exists outside of me 
 independently of my activity. 
 
 This objective somewhat is necessarily posited as con- 
 tinuing to exist, and as unchangeable in all these modifi- 
 cations, which are ascribed to the Ego through the 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 85 
 
 conception of freedom. For the conception of freedom 
 is based upon this, that I ascribe to myself the power to 
 realize X or-X; hence that I unite these, opposite deter- 
 minations, as opposites, in one and the same thinking. 
 But this is not possible, unless in this thinking of the 
 opposites we also think the same as that which is per- 
 manent in the opposed thinking, and to which the 
 identity of consciousness may connect. 
 
 Now this identical somewhat is nothing but that 
 through which thinking itself in its form becomes 
 possible, i.e., the relation to oijectivity in general, and 
 hence precisely the Non Ego shown up. This Non Ego 
 is thought as unchanged in all possible determinations 
 through freedom, for only on this condition can freedom 
 itself be thought. Hence there exists outside of us an 
 originally given (i.e., through thinking itself in its form 
 posited) infinitely modifiable substance, which substance 
 is that upon which activity is directed. 
 
 Finally: This substance is related to actual activity, 
 and actual activity is related to it ; and this substance 
 is in truth nothing but the means to think that activity. 
 It, in fact, limits actual causality to mere forming, or 
 modifying, and excludes it from creating or annihilating 
 matter. Hence we ascribe reality also to this substance, 
 just as we ascribe it to everything which limits actual 
 causality. Here, then, exists a real object of our activity 
 outside of us, and we have proven what we had to prove. 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 DEDUCTION OF AN OBJECT OF OUK ACTIVITY IN GENBKAL 
 (Continued). 
 
 Second Proposition. — Neithe r can the rational leing 
 ascribe to itsel f a v ow er of freedom without fi nd ing in itself 
 an actual exercise <ff this power, or a n actual free willing. 
 
 Preliminary. 
 
 Our deduction still stands at the same point where it 
 commenced. It has been proven that we ascribe to our- 
 selves a power of freedom. The question at present is: 
 How is this ascribing of it to ourselves possible ? Its 
 one external condition, namely, that an object of free 
 activity must be posited, has just now been shown up 
 We have now to establish an internal condition of it, 
 namely, that of our own state, wherein alone it is 
 possible. 
 
 An explanation this second proposition does not 
 require. Its words are clear; and should they never- 
 theless involve any ambiguity, that will doubtless be 
 sufficiently removed in the proof itself. That the con- 
 nection asserted in this and in all future propositions 
 signifies a synthetical connection in one and the same 
 thinking (the above proposition signifying, therefore, for 
 instance, that the power of freedom cannot be thought 
 and is never thought unless there arises in one and the 
 same state of mind of him who thinks it an actual 
 exercise of that power)— this is presupposed aS 'wull- 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. g; 
 
 known from all we have said before, and will hereafter 
 always be presupposed by us as well known. 
 
 Peoof. 
 
 The conception of a power of freedom is, as we know, 
 the conception or the purglv " ideal 'representation of a 
 free wilhng. At present we assert that this purely ideal 
 representation is not possible without the reality and 
 perception of a willing. Hence we assert the necessary 
 connection of a mere representation and a willing. Now, 
 since we cannot weU understand their connection without 
 clearly knowing their distinction, we must -above all 
 explain the characteristic distinction between represen- 
 tfitJon and willing; and next proceed, since actual willing 
 is. also to appear in. consciousness, to state the distinction • 
 between the mere ideal representation from the percep- 
 tion of a willing. Only when we shall have done this 
 will it be possible for us to prove that the former is not 
 possible without the latter. 
 
 As subfectivity in general is related tn nbj pctiv itv. so_ 
 fflere representation as snn.h is related to willing . Origin- 
 ally- 1 find-mysfelf as subject and object at the -same time, 
 and what the one signifies can only be comprehended 
 through opposing and relating it to the other. ' Neither 
 is determined through itself, but that which is common 
 to both and absolutely determined in itself is self-activity, 
 and in so far as both are distinct, they are determinable 
 only mediately, the subjective being that which relates 
 itself to the objective, and the objective being that to 
 which the subjective is attached, etc., etc. Now I am 
 absolutely self -active, and therein does my essence con- 
 sist : my free activity, immediately as such, if objective, 
 is my willing ; and the same free activity of mine, if- 
 subjective, is my thinking (taking the latter word in its 
 widest significance as embracing all the manifestations 
 of the intelligence as such). Hence willing can only be 
 
88 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 desoxibed through opposition to thinking, and thinking 
 only through opposition to willing. A genetic descrip- 
 tion of willing, therefore, as arising from thinking, can 
 be thus given : 
 
 We think willing as preceded by free, active compre- 
 hension of its end, or as preceded by an absolute creation 
 of this end through thinking. In this production of the 
 coneeptioa of the end, the state of the Ego is purely 
 ideal and subjective. The Ego represents: represents 
 with absolute self-activity, for the conception of the end 
 is purely product of the representation, and represents in 
 relation to a future willing, for otherwise the conception 
 would not be the conception of an end, but does only 
 represent, and does not will. 
 
 Meanwhile the Ego actually wills, — wUls that end; a 
 state, which each one easily distinguishes in ordinary 
 consciousness from the mere representation of what he 
 might will. Now what is there contained in this willing ? 
 Absolute self-activity as in thinking, but with another 
 character attached to it. Whichj then, is this character ? 
 Evidently the relation to a knowing. My willing is not 
 itself to be a knowing, but / am to know my willing. 
 Hence the distinctive character is the character of mere 
 objectivity. That, which was previously subjective, now 
 becomes objective,, and becomes objective because a new 
 subjective is added to it, or leaps, as it were, out of the 
 absolute fulness of self-activity. 
 
 It is well to observe the change in the sequence of 
 the links. Originally the Ego is neither subjective nor 
 ohjective, but both. This identity of both we cannot 
 think, however j hence we only think both in succession, 
 an,d through this thinking make the one dependent upon 
 the otheir. Thus in cognition, an objective (the thing) is 
 changed into a subjective, a representation, for the con- 
 ception of cognition is rega,rded as the reconstruction of 
 an existence. On the other hand, the conception of an 
 end is to be the prototype of an existence. The subjec- 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 89 
 
 tive must, therefore, change into an objective, and this 
 change must commence in the Ego, the only immediate 
 object of our consciousness. So much in regard to the 
 distinction between representation and willing. 
 
 The mere representation of a willing is the same repre- 
 sentation that we have just now produced in ourselves, 
 i.e„ the representation of an absolute (through absolute 
 self-activity effected) transition of the subjective into the 
 objective, for this is the general form of all free willing. 
 
 How, now, is this merely ideal representation of a 
 willing to be distinguished from the perception of an 
 actual willing? In the former the ideal activity itself 
 produces that form of willing through freedom ; and I am 
 conscious of the act of this producing. But in the latter 
 the ideal activity does not posit itself as producing this 
 form, finding, on the contrary, the willing as given in 
 actuality and itself in its representation thereof tied to 
 this its given form. 
 
 One more remark. The perception of the actual, i.e., 
 of the actually existing object, usually proceeds from a 
 feeling, and it is only in virtue of this feeling that pro- 
 ductive imagination posits something. But it is different 
 in the case of the perception of an actual willing, I 
 cannot say that I feel my willing, although there are 
 philosophers who, in a careless use of language, do say 
 so ; for I only feel the limitation of my activity, but my 
 willing is that very activity itself. What sort of con- 
 sciousness is, then, this consciousness of a willing? 
 Evidently an immediate contemplation of my own 
 activity, but as an object of the. subjective, and not 
 as, the, subjective itself, which latter is, therefore, not 
 contemplated as self-active. In short, this consciousness 
 is intellectual contemplation. 
 
 And now we can easUy furnish the proof of our second 
 proposition. 
 
 The subjective is originally not without an objectiv©, 
 for only thus is the subjective a subjective, as the 
 
90 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 conception of the Ego shows. Consciousness necessarily 
 begins with the connection of both. But in the mere 
 representation of a willing we only have a subjective, 
 whereas its objective, or more definitely, the mere form 
 of the objective, is first produced through that very 
 subjective itself. This is certainly possible, if the' intelli- 
 gence reproduces one of its determined states, and hence 
 if the actual state (existence) of the intelligence is 
 already presupposed in philosophical abstraction; but 
 originally it is not possible. The production must have 
 already been accomplished, if a reproduction is to be 
 possible. "gp,np.p t.hp. nnginal rpprp.sent.a.tinn of mir poyer 
 of freedom is npcpssaTJIy accompanied by an actu al 
 willing, 
 
 Strictly speaking, our proof is now finished ; but it is 
 well to remember, lest we should lose what we have 
 gained in our previous investigations, that, mce. mrsd, the 
 .perception of a w ilb'ng is noh pnssib lp, without the ideal 
 -i;epresentation of a power of freedom , or, which signifies 
 the same, of the form of willingj and that, therefore, we 
 assert most decidedly' the synthetical union of both the 
 thoughts just now distinguished. This can easily be 
 shown thus: I am to become conscious of a willing; but 
 this is a willing solely in so far as it is posited as free ; 
 and it is posited as free solely in so far as its determined- 
 ness is derived from a freely-produced conception of an 
 end. The form of all willing must be ascribed to this 
 particular willing ; for only thus am I the willing, and is 
 the subject of willing identical with the subject of the 
 perception of this willing. 
 
 Let no one be confused by this, that the production of 
 the conception of an end must then be posited in a 
 moment previous to the moment of willing, which, as 
 we have shown, is not possible, since I have neither being 
 nor comprehension in advance of the perception of a 
 willing.' This production of the conception is not prior 
 in regard. to time, but rather it and the willing occur in 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 91 
 
 absolutely the same moment. We only think the deter- 
 minedness of the willing dependent upon the conception. 
 There is no priority of time here, but merely a logical 
 priority — a priority of thinking. 
 
 To state tersely all we have now explained. Originally 
 I contemplate my activity as object, and in so far neces- 
 sarily as determined, i.e., as not all the activity I know 
 full well I might ascribe to myself, but as merely a 
 limited quantum of that activity. This contemplated 
 activity is that which in all human languages is tersely 
 called willing, and which is well known to all men, and 
 from which, as the philosopher has to show, all conscious- 
 ness starts, being made possible solely through it. But it 
 is a willing, and my willing, and an immediately perceiv- 
 able willing solely in so far as the contemplated deter- 
 minedness of the activity is to have no external ground, 
 but is to be solely grounded in my self. But if it is thus 
 grounded, then it is necessarily grounded as we have 
 shown in my thinking;, since besides willing we have 
 nothing but thinking, and since all objective can well be 
 deduced from a thinking; and it is in this, manner that 
 the determinedness of mj willing is necessarily thought, 
 as soon as a willing, as such, is persevered in. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 DEDUCTION OF THE ACTUAL CAUSALITY OF THE RATIONAL 
 BEING. 
 
 Thied Proposition. — The rational being cannot find in 
 itself an application of its jreedom , or a willing, without at 
 the same time ascribing to itself an actual external caus ality. 
 
 Preliminary. 
 
 Our deduction advances a step. 1 cannot ascribe to 
 myself a power of freedom without finding myself as 
 willing. Such was our first assertion. But now we add 
 moreover : I cannot do this, cannot find myself as actually 
 willing without finding also something else in me. Or to 
 state it in other words : Whatsoever may be possible in 
 the course of consciousness by means of previous ex- 
 perience and free abstraction, consciousness originally 
 clearly commences no more with the representation of 
 a mere impotent willing than with the representation of 
 our power to will. So far as we see as yet, consciousness 
 begins with a perception of our actual causality in the 
 sensuous world. This causality we deduce from our 
 willing, and the determinedness of this our willing from 
 a freely created conception of an end. 
 
 Thus it appears that the conception of freedom is 
 mediately conditioned by the now to be deduced per- 
 ception of an actual causality, and since that conception 
 conditions self-consciousness, self-consciousness must also 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 
 
 93 
 
 be conditioned by the latter. Hence all we have hitherto 
 deduced, and may yet deduce, is one and the same syn- 
 thetical consciousness, the separate parts whereof can 
 certainly be separated in philosophical abstraction, but 
 are on no account separated in original consciousness. It 
 is enough to have stated this once for all. 
 
 Proof. 
 
 I find myself willing only in so far as my activity is to 
 be put in motion through a determined conception. My 
 activity in willing is necessarily a determined activity, 
 as has been sufficiently established. But in the mere 
 activity, as such, as pure activity, nothing is distinguish- 
 able or determinable. Activity is the simplest contem- 
 plation — mere inner agility, and nothing else. 
 
 Activity is not to be determined through itself, and yet 
 must be determined if consciousness is to be possible, 
 signifies: Activity is to be determined through and by 
 means of its opposite; hence through the mode of its 
 limitedness, and only under this condition is a mani- 
 fold of activity, or are many and particular acts 
 possible. 
 
 But the manner of my limitedness I cannot absolutely 
 and intellectually contemplate through myself, but only 
 feel in sensuous experiences. But if an activity is to be 
 limited, and if its lunitedness is to be felt, this limited- 
 ness must have existence (of course, for me, and not in 
 itself). Now everything that is sensuously to be con- 
 templated is necessarily a quantum, at present only a 
 quantum filling up a time moment. But that which fills 
 up a time moment is itself an infinitely divisible mani- 
 fold, and hence the perceivable limitedness must be itself 
 a manifold. At present the Ego is to be posited as active. 
 It must, therefore, be posited as removing and breaking 
 through a manifold of limitation and resistance in a suc- 
 cession (for even in the single moment there is succession, 
 
94 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 since otherwise no duration of time would arise from the 
 mere joining together of single moments). In other 
 words : The Ego must be posited as having causality in an 
 external sensuous world. 
 
 Kemaeks. 
 
 1. As part of the result of our investigation, we must 
 also remember that the intellectual contemplation, from 
 which we started, is not possible without a seiyious con- 
 templation, and the latter not without a feeling. It 
 would be, therefore, an utter misapprehension and 
 reversion of our system to charge us with the opposite 
 assertion. But neither is the latter possible without the 
 former. I cannot be, for myself, without being a some- 
 what, and this I am only in the sensuous world ; but 
 neither can I be for myself without being an Ego, and this 
 I am only iu the world of intelligence, which opens to my 
 eyes by means of intellectual contemplation. The point 
 of union of both worlds lies in this : that I am, only 
 through absolute self-activity, regulated by a conception, 
 for myself, what I am already in the sensuous world. Our 
 existence in the world of intelligence is the moral law: 
 our existence in the sensuous world is the actual deed ; 
 and the point of union of both is the freedom, as an 
 absolute power, to determine the latter world through 
 the former. 
 
 2. The Ego is to be posited as actual only in opposition 
 to a non-Ego. But a non-Ego exists for the Ego only on 
 condition that the Ego acts, and in this its acting feels 
 a resistance which must be surmounted, however, since 
 otherwise the Ego would not act. It is only through the 
 means of a resistance that the activity of the Ego becomes 
 perceptible and of a duration in time, siace, otherwise 
 it would be beyond all time, which we cannot even 
 think. 
 
 3. Hence, no causality directed upon a non-Ego, no 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 95 
 
 Ego. This causality is not accidental, but necessarily 
 belonging to the Ego, like everything else in the Ego. 
 
 Would that people were to cease combining to reason 
 out of a number of accidentally joined forces, and were to 
 accustom themselves to look upon it as a completed whole, 
 as an organised reason, so to speak. Either the Ego is 
 everything that it is, and as it appears on the standpoint 
 of. ordinary consciousness independently of all philosophi- 
 cal abstraction, or it is nothing, and is indeed not at all. 
 Consciousness begins with sensuous perception, which 
 is throughout determined, but on no account does it begin 
 with abstract thinking. By trying to begin consciousness 
 with abstraction (as philosophy, indeed, does begin), and by 
 mistaking that which was to be explained, viz., actual 
 consciousness, for the explanation itself , viz , philosophy, 
 the latter science has been turned into a tissue of 
 absurdities. 
 
 4. Only through such a statement of the matter as we 
 have just given, is the absoluteness of the Ego, as its 
 essential character, retained. Our consciousness starts 
 from the inunediate consciousness • of our activity ; and 
 only by means of it do we find ourself passive. The non- 
 Ego does not affect the Ego as has been generally supposed, 
 but vice versa. It is not the non-Ego which penetrates 
 into the Ego, hut the Ego which proceeds out of itself 
 into the non-Ego. Thus we have to express this relation 
 through sensuous contemplation, whereas, transcendentaUy, 
 it should be expressed: We find ourselves originally 
 limited not through our limitations drawing in upon us — 
 for in that case the cancelling of our reality would also 
 cancel our consciousness of it — but through our extending 
 and in extending our limits. 
 
 Again, in order to go out of itself, the Ego must be 
 posited as overcoming the resistance. Here, again, the 
 primacy of reason, in so far as reason is practical, is 
 asserted. Everything starts from activity and from the 
 activity of the Ego. The Ego is the first principle of all 
 
96 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 movement, of all life, of all deeds and events. If the 
 non-Ego influences us, it does not do so within our 
 sphere, but within its own sphere. It affects us through 
 resisting us, and it would not resist unless we first 
 directed our activity upon it. It does not attack us, 
 but we attack it. 
 
CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 DETERMINATION OF THE CAUSALITY OF THE RATIONAL 
 BEING THROUGH ITS INTERNAL CHARACTER. 
 
 Fourth Proposition. — The rational being cannot ascribe 
 causality to itself without determining the same in a certain 
 manner through its own conception. 
 
 Preliminary. 
 
 Our proposition is unclear and ambiguous. The 
 causality of the rational being in the sensuous world 
 may well be supposed, and will shortly show itself, to 
 stand under various restrictions and conditions; and on 
 the first glance it is hard to say which of these is meant 
 by the certain manner of determinedness mentioned in 
 our proposition. But we have in our method itself the 
 surest means against all confusion. It must be the 
 determinedness which conditions immediately the per- 
 ception of our causality, which is meant, and what sort 
 of a determinedness this is will appear from a deduction. 
 The conditions which again determine this determined- 
 ness we shall show afterwards. 
 
 But in order to know from the beginning, whereof we 
 really speak, and to give a thread for the direction of 
 our attention, let us first try to guess from common 
 consciousness what this determinedness may be. (It is 
 scarcely necessary to mention that this guess is not to 
 prove anything, but merely to prepare the proof.) 
 
 It has already been stated that we cannot will or effect 
 
 H 97 
 
98 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 something in violation of the necessary laws of thinking, 
 since we cannot even think it, and that we cannot like- 
 wise create or annihilate matter, but merely separate and 
 t;onnect it, the ground whereof is also stated in its proper 
 place. But even in this separating and connecting of 
 matter or substance we are bound to obey a certain 
 order. In most cases we cannot immediately realize our 
 end through our will, but must make use of various 
 means, existing previously and independently of us, as 
 the only proper means to effect our purpose. Let our 
 end be = X. Instead of directly realizing X, we are, 
 perhaps, compelled to realize A first as the only means 
 to get to B, and B as the only means to get to C, etc., 
 until we arrive, through a series of mediating ends, 
 mutually conditioning each other, at our final end X. 
 
 In fact, we can do all that we can will to do, and the 
 only difference is that we cannot always do it imme- 
 diately and at once, but in a certain order of proceeding. 
 (It is said, for instance, that man cannot fly, Why 
 should man not be able to do it? Of course, man 
 cannot fly immediately as he can walk immediately; 
 but through the means of a balloon he can certainly rise 
 into the air, and move about with a certain degree of 
 freedom and purpose. Moreover, shall we, because our 
 age cannot do what it has not yet discovered the means 
 to do, assert that nnan cannot do it ? I will not suppose 
 that an age like ours considers itself mankind !) 
 
 The assertion of common consciousness is, therefore, 
 that in the execution of our ends we are tied to a certain 
 order of means. "What does this assertion signify, when 
 looked upon from a transcendental point of view, merely 
 looking to the imminent changes and appearances in the 
 Ego, and utterly abstracting from external things ? 
 
 According to previous explanations, a feeling always 
 accompanies perception, and to say: I perceive changes 
 outside of me, signifies the same as : the condition of my 
 feelings changes. I will to have external causality, 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 
 
 99 
 
 signifies: I will that a determined feeling within me 
 should be replaced by a determined other feeling, which 
 I require in my conception of the end to be attained. I 
 have become cause, signifies: this required feeling has 
 actually entered me. Hence to say: I attain my end 
 through a series of means, signifies : between the feeling, 
 from which I proceeded to willing, and the feeling 
 required by that willing, a series of other feelings enters. 
 And to say that this relation is a necessary one, signifies : 
 a determined required feeling follows a determined other 
 feeling, only on the condition that a determined series of 
 other feelings (determined in their kind, number, and 
 sequence) enters between them. 
 
 But each feeling is expressive of my limitation, and to 
 say, I have causality, signifies always : I expand my limits. 
 Hence the assertion of common consciousness, trans- 
 cendentally expressed, signifies: that this expanding of 
 our limits can only proceed in a certain manner of pro- 
 gression, our causality being limited, in the attainment 
 of its end, to the use of certain means. It is this deter- 
 mination and limitation of our causality, whereof we have 
 to treat at present, as our deduction will clearly show. 
 
 This part of the deduction is a progress in Our series 
 of conditions. I cannot posit myself as free without 
 ascribing to myself an actual causality. Such was our 
 last proven proposition. But under what conditions can 
 we again ascribe causality to ourselves ? This is the 
 problem of our present investigation. 
 
 Peoof. 
 
 A. My causality is perceived as a manifold in a con- 
 tinuous series. 
 
 The perception of my causality, as has already been 
 remarked, necessarily, as perception, occupies a time 
 moment. But through the union of many moments, there 
 arises a duration or filling up of time, and hence, each 
 separate moment must also fill up a time, since, by the 
 
loo THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 union of many of the same kind, nothing can arise, which 
 is not in the many as separates. "What, then, does this 
 signify ; each moment Jills up a time ? Simply, that in 
 this moment a manifold might be distinguished, and that 
 this distinction might be continued infinitely ; but, on no 
 account, that this distinction is actually made, since, on 
 the contrary, it becomes a moment only through not 
 distinguishing, not separating it any further. To say that 
 the moment is posited as filling up time, signifies, therefore, 
 the same as: the possibility in general of making the 
 distinction just described is posited. 
 
 That which occurs in the perception of our causality 
 •is the synthesis of our activity with a resistance. But 
 our activity, as we have seen, is not a manifold, but rather 
 absolute pure identity; and is itself to be characterized 
 only through relation to the resistance. Hence, the 
 manifold which is to be distinguished, must be a manifold 
 of the resistance. 
 
 This manifold is necessarily a manifold separated ex- 
 ternally, or a discrete manifold, for only on this condition 
 does it fill up a time; it is thought as a series. How, 
 then, is it in regard to the sequence of this manifold 
 in a series; does this sequence depend upon the free- 
 dom of the intelligence as such, or is it regarded as 
 determined independently of the intelligence. For 
 instance, assuming this manifold to be a 6 c, would it 
 be a proper matter, for the freedom of thinking, to 
 change it for 6 c a or for cab, etc., or was it necessary to 
 put in that particular sequence, b following a, and c fol- 
 lowing 6 — and b only possible on the condition of a having 
 -been preposited, etc. ? It is clear that the latter is the 
 case, for the perceived causality of the Ego is something 
 actual; but, in the representation of the actual, the 
 intelligence is altogether necessitated, and never free so 
 far as the context of the representation is concerned. 
 
 Indeed, looking at the matter in general, my causality 
 necesseiirily happens in time, since it cannot be my 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. idj 
 
 causality unless it is thought, and since all my thinking 
 occurs in time. But time is a determined series of 
 successive moments, wherein each moment is conditioned 
 by another one which it does not condition, and conditions 
 another one, by which it again is not conditioned. The 
 thinking of our causality, however, is the perception of an 
 actual; and in perception nothing depends upon the 
 thinking as such. Hence my causality is represented as 
 a series, the manifold whereof is the manifold of a resisr 
 tance, the sequence of which is not determined through 
 my thinking, but independently of it. 
 
 B. The sequence of this manifold is determined inde- 
 pendently of me ; and hence, is itself a limitation of my 
 causality. 
 
 We have just seen that the sequence of the manifold 
 in my causality is not determined through my thinking ; 
 but neither is it determined or produced through my 
 activity, as is, indeed, immediately clear. 
 
 The resistance is not my acting, but the opposite of my 
 acting. I do not produce it, and, hence, I do not produce 
 the least of what belongs to it. That which I produce 
 is my activity, and in it there is neither manifold nor 
 sequence of time, but pure unity. I desire the end, and 
 nothing but the end ; and the means I only desire because 
 the end cannot be attained except through them. This 
 whole relation itself is, therefore, a limitation of my 
 activity. 
 
 Eemakks. 
 
 Let us explain more clearly the result of our present 
 investigation. 
 
 I. The idea of the deduced series is as follows : There 
 must first be a point of beginning, wherein the Ego pro- 
 ceeds out from its original limitedness, and has for the 
 first time, and immediately, causality, which point of 
 beginning, if it should be impossible, from some reason or 
 another, to trace our analysis back so far, might also 
 
I02 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 appear as a 'plurality of points of beginning.* In so far 
 as these points are to be points of beginning, the Ego is in 
 them cause immediately through its will; and there are 
 no mediating links necessary in order to attain this 
 causality. Such first points there must be, if the Ego 
 is ever to become cause. These points, thought together, 
 we call, as will appear soon, our articulated body; and 
 this body is nothing but these points represented and 
 realised through contemplation. Let us call this system 
 of the first moments of our causality the system A. 
 
 With each of these points many other points connect, 
 wh'erein the Ego can become cause in a manifold manner 
 through means of the first series. I say : With eacA one 
 many connect ; for if from each one only one manner 
 of acting were possible, that acting would not be free, 
 and it would indeed be not a second act, but merely a 
 construction of the first. Let us call this system the 
 system B. 
 
 With each moment of this system B are again connected 
 many points of a third system C, and thus — to put if in 
 the shape of an illustration, an infinite circular space is 
 described around a fixed central point, in which space 
 each point can be thought as connecting with an infinite 
 number of others. 
 
 Through this necessary view of our causality the world 
 generally, and the world as a manifold, arises for us. 
 AU the qualities of matter — excepting those, of course, 
 which originate from the forms of contemplation — are 
 nothing but their relation 'to us, and more especially their 
 relation to our causality, since no other relation exists for 
 us ; or to express this thought transcendentally : they are 
 the relations of our determined finity to our desired 
 infinity. 
 
 The object X is in space thus far removed from me, 
 signifies idealiter: in proceeding from myself to the object 
 in space, I must first seize and posit these and these 
 * Trmislator's Note. Qr as a plurality of first men. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 103 
 
 objects in order to posit it ; and viewed realiter, it signifies : 
 I must first penetrate this and that amount of opposing 
 space in order to be able to consider the space X, as 
 identical with the space wherein I am myself. 
 
 The object Y is Aartj. signifies: In a certain series of 
 my activity I feel between two determined hnks of it a 
 determined resistance. The object is softening, signifies : 
 I feel the resistance diminished in the same place of the 
 same series. It is thus in regard to all the predicates of 
 things in the sensuous world. 
 
 2. The real active and feeling Ego describes in acting 
 a continuous line, wherein there is no disruption or -any- 
 thing of the kind; a line, wherein you proceed imper- 
 ceptibly to the opposite, without a change appearing to 
 occur in the next adjoining point, but only at some points' 
 distance. The reflecting Ego seizes any number of facts 
 of this continuous line as separate moments. Thus there 
 arises for the reflecting Ego a series, consisting of points, 
 not immediately connected. (Keflection proceeds by leaps, 
 as it were, whereas sensation is steady or continuous.) It 
 is true, both the extreme end-points of the successive 
 moments (if such things could be in an infinitely divis- 
 ible line, although we may well think them) imper- 
 ceptibly join each other, and in so far that which is 
 contained in both the separated moments is the same. 
 But the reflection only seizes that wherein they are 
 opposed, and thus they are distinct moments, and give 
 rise to a changing consciousness; the identity of con- 
 sciousness being again made possible through their 
 likewise remaining always the same. 
 
 3. This restriction of our causality to the use of certain 
 determined means, in order to attain a determined object, 
 must be explained from the point of view of common 
 consciousness, through a determined qualitativeness of 
 the things, or through determined laws of nature. This 
 explanation, however, cannot suffice on the standpoint of 
 transcendental philosophy, or on that standpoint which 
 
I04 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 separates all the non-Ego from the Ego, and thinks the 
 Ego in its purity. From this standpoint it appears 
 utterly absurd to assume a non-Ego as a thing in itself 
 with abstraction from all reason. 
 
 How, then, is that limitation to be explained in this 
 connection, not in regard to its form, {i.e. not why such 
 a limitation in general is to be posited, for this is pre- 
 cisely the question we have answered in our deduction) ; 
 but in regard to its content, i.e., why this limitation 
 should be thought precisely in the particular manner in 
 which it is thought. In other words, why should pre- 
 cisely these and no other means lead to the attainment 
 of this or that determined end ? Now, since we are here 
 not to assume things in themselveis, nor natural laws as 
 the laws of an external nature, this limitation can only 
 be conceived as of this character : The Ego limits itself, 
 not arbitrarily, however, and with freedom, since in that 
 case we could not say, the Ego is limited ; but in virtue 
 of an immanent law of its own being, though a natural 
 law of its own (finite) nature. This determined rational 
 being is arranged in a manner that it must limit itself 
 precisely thus; and this arrangement cannot be ex- 
 plained any further precisely because it is to constitute 
 the original limitation of that rational being, beyond 
 which it cannot proceed with its activity, and hence 
 likewise not with its cognition. To demand such an 
 explanation would be to contradict one's self. There 
 are, however, other limitations of the rational being, 
 whereof the grounds can be shown up. 
 
 Now, if these separate limitations, which as such occur 
 only in time, are gathered together and thought as an 
 original arrangement, Tprior to all time and leyond oil time, 
 then we think absolute limits to the primary impulse 
 itself. It is an impulse which can only be directed upon 
 this, only upon a causality determined in such or such 
 a series, and upon no other caiisality whatever ; and it is 
 such an impulse absolutely. Our whole internal, as well 
 
THE PRtNCtPLE OF MORALITY. joj 
 
 a s .external, world, in so far as the former is actual world , 
 i s. thus pre-established for us throughout all e ternity. I 
 s ay, in so far a s the internal world is acFual. i.e., an 
 dBjective somethi ng in us . For the merely subjective, 
 tEe selt-aetermmation, is not pre-established, and hence 
 we act with freedom. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 DEDUCTION OF A DETEEMINEDNESS OF OBJECTS 
 INDEPENDENTLY OF US. 
 
 Fifth Proposition. — The rational being cannot ascribe 
 a causality to itself without presupposing a certain causality 
 of t he object. ~ 
 
 ■" Peeliminaey. 
 
 It has been shown already (Chapter I.) . that the 
 thinking of our freedom is conditioned by the thinking 
 of an object. But this objectivity was in that chapter 
 deduced only as mere raw matter. Common experience, 
 however, teaches that we never find an object which is 
 only matter, and which is not already formed in a certain 
 respect. It appears, therefore, that the consciousness of our 
 causality is conditioned not merely by the general posit- 
 ing of an object, but also by the positing of a determined 
 form of the objects. But is this common experience, to 
 which we have referred, necessary and universal, and, if 
 so, according to what laws of reason is it thus necessary 
 and universal ? The solution of this question might have 
 some influence upon the system. 
 
 The general proposition, that all matter is necessarily 
 perceived in a determiued form, might be proven easily 
 enough. But we do not care for this alone, but more 
 particularly for an insight into the determined form, 
 which we must assign to the objects of our causahty in 
 advance of our causality ; and to show up this may 
 require a much profounder investigation. Even the 
 
 xo6 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 107 
 
 words of the proposition established cannot yet be ex- 
 plained by us, therefore, and we must wait for a complete 
 unravelling of their meaning until we have finished our 
 investigation. 
 
 Peoof. 
 
 yAestg.- -The rational being has no cognition except as 
 a consequence of a limitation of its activity. 
 
 This proposition has been abundantly proven by all we 
 have previously said, and it is simply the result of our 
 previous investigations. I find myself only as free, and 
 I find myself as free only in the actual perception of a 
 determined self -activity. I find the object only as limiting, 
 and yet as overcome by my self-activity. Without con- 
 sciousness of a self-activity there is iadeed no conscious- 
 ness at all, but this self-activity can itself not be the 
 object of a consciousness unless it is limited. 
 
 A w<t< 7tms.-— But the rational being as such has no 
 self-activiiiy , except as a consequence of a cognition, at 
 least a cognition of something in that being itself. 
 
 That something is product of my self-activity, I do not 
 and cannot perceive, but absolutely posit ; and I do posit 
 it thus absolutely in positing the form of freedom in 
 general. But this foim of freedom consists in this, that 
 the material determinedness of the will is grounded upon 
 a conception of an end, which conception is freely pro- 
 duced by the intelligence. Now, apart from the fact that 
 the possibility of such a conception of an end seems 
 itself to be conditioned by the cognition of an external 
 object, and of a form thereof existing independently of 
 us, apart from this fact of mere common consciousness, 
 of which we do not know yet whether it will be con- 
 firmed, it is at least certain that we presuppose the 
 cognition of such a conception of an end for the possi- 
 bility of a perception of my willing. But only in so far 
 as I perceive myself as free, willing is a causality, my 
 causality. 
 
io8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 The condition, as we see, is not possible without the 
 conditioned, and the conditioned not possible without the 
 condition, which doubtless is a defective circle of ex- 
 planation and a proof that we have not yet explained 
 the consciousness of our freedom, which we were to 
 explaiu. 
 
 (It were perhaps an easy matter to solve this difficulty 
 by the presumption that the first moment of aU con- 
 sciousness — for only the first moment presents the diffi- 
 culty, since in the progress of consciousness the choice 
 through freedom and a cognition of the end-conception 
 in advance of the will-resolve, by means of previous 
 experience, can easily be conceived — consists in an abso- 
 lute synthesis of the production of the end-conception 
 and of the perception of a willing of this end. That 
 conception would thus be, not produced, but merely 
 thought, as produced immediately together in and with 
 the willing, for the sake of finding the willing itself to 
 be free. The only question would be this: Whence, 
 then, since no choice is to precede the williag, does the 
 determinedness of the end or of the willing (which is 
 here all the same) come from, and how can it be 
 explained by the philosopher? (For we have seen that 
 the Ego itself explains it through the thought of a pre- 
 viously produced end-conception.) And this is, indeed, 
 the true solution of the difficulty, which, once obtained, 
 will also solve the last-mentioned question. But rules of 
 a systematic procedure, as well as other discoveries, which 
 we apprehend, force us to seek a more thorough basis, and 
 the present remarks are only intended to point out the 
 direction of our investigation. 
 
 Syn thesis. — According to the well-known rules of our 
 synthetical method, the above antithesis is to be solved 
 through a synthesis of the conditioned and the condition, 
 both being posited as one and the same. The activity is, 
 therefore, to be itself the desired cognition, and the 
 cognition itself the desired activity; and all conscious- 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 109 
 
 ness must start from something, which absolutely unites 
 in itself both predicates. Let this union be thought, and 
 the contradiction is actually solved. 
 
 But this is the very difficulty. It is so hard to under- 
 stand this thought, to think anything clearly when thinking 
 it. According to the rules of synthetical elaboration, our 
 task would, therefore, now be to immediately analyse the 
 established synthetical conception until we should have 
 succeeded iu understanding it : the most difficult way 
 of it, particularly as our established synthesis is one of the 
 most abstract occurring in the whole science of philosophy. 
 
 There is an easier method ; and, since we are at present 
 concerned more about the results themselves than about 
 getting a knowledge of the origiaal synthetical procedure 
 of reason (which, moreover, has been amply exemplified 
 in other instances, more specially in my Science of Bights), 
 we shall pursue this easier method. For we know already, 
 from previous investigations in regard to that primary 
 point, from which all consciousness proceeds, so much 
 that we can very properly proceed in our investigations 
 from these known characteristics, and ascertain whether 
 they will also solve our present difficulty; and whether 
 they also involve the synthesis just now established. 
 This method is the same as the other reversed. 
 
 The Pkoof by another Method. 
 
 If we think the Ego originally objective — as it is found 
 in advance of all other consciousness — its determinedness 
 cannot be otherwise described than by means of a tendency 
 or impulse, as we have sufficiently established at the very 
 beginning. The objective state of an Ego is by no means 
 a being or permanency (for in that case it would be its 
 opposite, a thing); but is, on the contrary, absolute 
 activity; and nothing but activity. No w, activi ty, taken 
 objectively, is Impulse. ' " 
 
no THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 I have said : if we think the Ego originally objective, 
 for, after the subjective in the Ego has been separated and 
 thought (according to ,our previous description in Chapter 
 II., Book 1) as absolute power of freedom, the objective 
 in' the Ego, in this relation to the subjective or to freedom, 
 is a moral law for freedom. 
 
 But the Ego is not merely objective, for in that case 
 it would be a thing and not an Ego. Hence, its original 
 determinedness is not only the determinedness of a being, 
 but also of a thinking : taking the latter word in its 
 widest significance as embracing all utterances of the 
 intelHgence. But such a mere determinedness of the in- 
 telligence, without any self -activity or freedom on the part 
 of the intelligence, is called a. feeling (as we have shown in 
 Chapter III. of Book 1). 
 
 A thing merely is something or another, and that 
 finishes the determinedness of the thing. But the Ego 
 never is merely something or another ; it must also know 
 of that which it is. The being of the Ego necessarily and 
 immediately relates to its consciousness. This mere 
 determination of the being and the Egoness is called 
 feeling; and, hence, if the Ego is originally posited as 
 being an impulse, i.e., if the original objective determined- 
 ness of the Ego is characterised as impulse, then it is 
 also necessarily posited as knowing of this its being, or 
 of this impulse ; and since this immediate knowing in the 
 Ego, as its subjective determinedness, is called feeling, 
 it is necessarily posited as having a feeling of this impulse. 
 And in this manner we arrive at a necessary and 
 immediate consciousness, to which we can attach the 
 series of all other consciousness. In other words, all 
 other consciousness: reflection, contemplation, compre- 
 hension, etc., presupposes an application of freedom, 
 which again presupposes many other things. But feeling 
 does not presuppose anything; I feel only so far as I am. 
 This feeling of the impulse is called yearning: an un- 
 determined sensation of a need. 
 
I 
 
 THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. iii 
 
 N"ow, this original feeling of the impulse is precisely the 
 synthetical link, which we described above. The impulse 
 is an activity, which in the Ego necessarily becomes 
 cognition (feeUng), and this cognition is not (like other 
 cognition) an image of the activity of the impulse, but, 
 rather, is that very activity itself in its immediate repre- 
 sentation. If the activity is posited, the cognition thereof 
 is also immediately posited, and if this cognition is posited 
 in its foi-m as feeUng, the activity itself is also posited. 
 
 In other cognitions the objective is always still held to 
 exist, in a certain respect, independent of its cognition or 
 representation, whether it be ■ so held a thing in itself, 
 or as law of reason; for only by holding it thus does 
 it become an objective, and distinct from the subjective. 
 In feeling, both are absolutely united ; a feeling (noun) is 
 clearly nothing without feeling (inf. verb), and is that 
 feeling itself, is always merely a subjective. 
 
 This original feeling solves the above difficulty 
 thoroughly. We could not assume an activity without 
 cognition, since all activity was found to presuppose 
 a freely-produced conception of an end. Again, we could 
 not assume any cognition without presupposing an activity, 
 since all cognition was deduced from the perception of our 
 limitedness in acting. But at present we have something, 
 which is immediately knowable, namely, our original 
 impulse. The first act is a satisfaction of that impulse, 
 and in relation to it, that impulse appears as a freely- 
 produced conception of an end ; and this is very correct, 
 since the Ego is to be regarded as the absolute ground 
 
 of its impulse. 
 
 II. 
 
 In feeling I am utterly, and in every respect, en- 
 chained. I have not even t hat freedom which occurs .jn 
 every representation, namely, that 1 can abstract from 
 the object of it. It is not I, who posit myself when I feel. 
 but both objectively — as impelled: , and subjectively— ;as 
 feeUng this impulsion — am I posited. 
 
112 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Now, if only the consciously free and active is posited 
 as Ego, as is always done on the standpoint of common 
 consciousness, then the object and subject of the impulse 
 does not belong, in so far, to the Ego, but is rather opposed 
 to it; and it is only my thinking and acting which 
 constitutes my Ego. 
 
 The ground of distinction of these my predicates in the 
 described relation is as follows : I, in so far as I am free, 
 am not the ground of my impulse and of the feeling 
 exerted by the impulse. It is not a matter of my freedom 
 how I feel or do not feel, whereas it is utterly a matter 
 of my freedom how I think or act. The former is not 
 product of freedom, and freedom has not the least control 
 over it ; the latter, however, is merely and purely product 
 of freedom, and is not at all without freedom. The im- 
 pulse and feeling, moreover, are to have no causality upon 
 freedom. In spite of the impulse, I can determine 
 myself contrary to it; or, if I do determine myself in 
 accordance with it, it is still not the impulse which deter- 
 mines me, but I myself who determine myself. 
 
 The ground of relation of these predicates is as follows : 
 Although a part of that which pertains to my Ego is to be 
 possible only through freedom, and another part of the 
 same Ego is to be independent of freedom and freedom 
 independent of it, yet the Ego, to which both parts 
 pertain, is only one and the same, and is posited as one 
 and the same. I, who feel, and I who think ; I, who am 
 impelled, and I, who freely resolve, am the same I. 
 
 Now, although my first act, as has just been shown, 
 can be none other than a satisfying of the impulse, and 
 although the end-conception for that act is given through 
 the impulse, that act is nevertheless as having such an 
 end-conception determined otherwise than as mere im- 
 pulse. For as mere impulse the act would be viewed as 
 necessarily constituted in this or that manner, whereas 
 with the characteristic of being directed upon an end it 
 is viewed as an act, which might have laeen otherwise than 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 113 
 
 it is. To be sure, I follow the impulse; but with the 
 thought that I also might not have followed it It is 
 only thus that the manifestation of my power becomes an 
 acting; it is only on this condition that self-consciousness, 
 and consciousness in general, is possible. 
 
 We have already distinguished this objective view of 
 the Ego, in so far as a determined impulse is originally 
 posited, and a feeling deduced from it, from another 
 objective view of the same Ego, which appears as moral 
 law. This distinction can be made clearer at present. 
 
 Materialiter. — Both are distinct in this, that whereas 
 the moral law cannot be derived at all from an objective 
 determinedness of the impulse, but simply from the form 
 of the impulse in general, as the impulse of an Ego, 
 or from the form of absolute independence and self- 
 determination, the feeling of the impulse presupposes, on 
 the contrary, a determined material need. 
 
 Formaliter. — Both are distinct in this, that whereas the 
 moral law does not absolutely force itself upon us, is not 
 felt and does not at all exist independently of free reflec- 
 tion, arising rather from a reflection of freedom, and from 
 the relation of the above-described form of all impulse to 
 freedom, the feeling of the material impulse, on the con- 
 trary, forces itself upon us. 
 
 Finally, so far as the relation is concerned, the just- 
 described impulse does not at all relate to freedom, 
 whereas the moral law does relate itself to freedom, 
 since it is a law for freedom. 
 
 In what we have said above, we have established the 
 conception of an original, determined system of our 
 limitedness in general; the utterance or manifestation 
 of this limitedness, and of the limited in us, being pre- 
 cisely feeling and impulse; and hence there exists an 
 originally determined system of impulses and feelings. 
 And since whatsoever is fixed and determined indepen- 
 dently of freedom is called nature, according to the above, 
 that system of impulses and feelings is to be thought as 
 I 
 
114 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 nature. Moreover, since the consciousness thereof forces 
 itself upon us, and since the Ego or substance, wherein 
 this system rests, is to be the same, which thinks or wills 
 with freedom, and which we posit as ourselves ; it foUows 
 that we must think that system of impulses and feelings 
 as (MT nature. 
 
 In other words : I myself am to a certain extent, and 
 without an iafringement upon the absoluteness of my 
 reason and of my freedom — nature; and this my nature 
 is an impulse. 
 
 III. 
 
 But not only do I posit myself as nature, I also assume 
 other nature outside of my own, partly in so far as I am 
 compelled to relate my causality in general to an external 
 and independently existing matter, and partly in so far 
 as this matter must have, also independently of my 
 activity, at least that form which forces me to pass 
 through determined links in order to attain my object. 
 Now, in so far as both are to be nature, they are neces- 
 sarily thought as equal ; but in so far as the one is to be 
 my nature, and the other an external nature, they are 
 necessarily opposited. Both, therefore, are thought as 
 mediated, i.e., the one is thought through the thinking 
 of the other, which is indeed the general relation of all 
 opposites, which are equal in one characteristic. In other 
 words, my nature must be originally explained, or derived 
 from the whole system of nature and shown to have its 
 groimd therein. 
 
 Concerning this assertion, well known from and 
 sufficiently explained in my other philosophical works, 
 let me say a few words. We speak of an explanation 
 and deduction, which the Ego itself produces on the 
 standpoint of common consciousness, but not of the 
 explanation of the transcendental philosopher. The latter 
 explains all the occurrences of consciousness from the 
 ideal acting of reason as such, while the posit objects 
 outside of what is to be explained, in order to explain it. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 115 
 
 Again: The Ego never becomes conscious of its explain- 
 ing, as sueli, but only of the products thereof;, or, in 
 other words, it is clear that perception starts from the 
 nature in me, and not from the nature outside of me, 
 which latter external nature is the mediated (my own 
 being the mediaUTig), or that which is mediately cognized 
 by means of the cognition of my own nature. Whereas 
 the standpoint of reality proceeds reversely from external 
 nature, which is held to determine our nature and to 
 contain the ground, why our nature is constituted thus 
 and not otherwise. How, then, is our nature to be ex- 
 plained ? Or, what else does the assumption of a nature 
 in us involve ? Or, under what condition is it possible to 
 ascribe a nature to us ? This investigation we have now 
 to undertake. 
 
 My nature is an impulse. How can an impulse as 
 such be comprehended, i.e., how is the thinking of the 
 impulse mediated, in beings thinking altogether discur- 
 sively and through mediation ? 
 
 We can make very clear what we speak of here, by the 
 opposite mode of thinking. Whatsoever lies within a 
 series of causes and effects is easily comprehended by the 
 laws of natural mechanism. Each link in the series has 
 its activity communicated through it by another link 
 external to it, and directs this its activity to a third 
 external link. In such a series, a quantum of power is 
 only passed over from link to link, and passes, as it were, 
 through the whole series. Whence this power may come 
 we never learn, being forced, at each link in the series, to 
 proceed further upwards, and never arriving at an original 
 source. This power, penetrating the series, is the power 
 by means whereof we think the activity and passivity of 
 each separate link in the series. 
 
 But in such a manner we cannot comprehend the 
 impulse as working, and hence, we cannot think it all as 
 a link in such a series. Let us assume an external cause 
 directed upon the substrate of the impulse, then there 
 
ii6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 also results an external causality upon a third link ; but 
 if this external cause has no influence over the substrate 
 of the impulse, there results nothing at all. Hence, the 
 impulse is something, which neither comes from, nor goes 
 into, the external world ; it is an internal activity of the 
 substrate directed upon itself. Self-determination is the 
 only conception by means of which we can think an 
 impulse. 
 
 Hence, my nature, in so far as it is to consist ia an 
 impulse, is thought as determiuiug itself through itself ; 
 for only then can an impulse be conceived. But that an 
 impulse exists at all, is simply fact of consciousness on 
 the standpoiat of ordinary consciousness, beyond which 
 fact that standpoiat does not transcend. It is only the 
 transcendental philosopher who goes beyond it in order 
 to look up the ground of this fact. 
 
 COROLLAEIUM. 
 
 In the first mode of proeeediag, our judgment is what 
 Kant calls subsuming, and in the latter mode, what he 
 calls reflecting. The distinction is this: The law of natural 
 mechanism is nothing but the law of the successions of 
 reflections, and of their reciprocal determination (through 
 which alone time, and identity of consciousness in the 
 progress of time, arises for us), transferred to external 
 objects. The understanding, iu this sort of thinking, 
 proceeds its ordinary way mechanically; and our free 
 power of judgment has only to reflect upon what it 
 actually does as mechanical understanding, in order to 
 become conscious of it. The matter is comprehended 
 without any activity of freedom or consideration: it is 
 comprehended through the mere mechanism of the power 
 of cognition ; and this procedure is justly called subsuming. 
 
 But in the second mode of proceeding the comprehend- 
 ing cannot at all occur in this mechanical manner ; and 
 hence, there arises a check and doubt in our minds, 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 117 
 
 accompanied by the reflection, that the comprehension 
 cannot succeed thus. Now, the comprehension cannot be 
 thus achieved, and yet must be achieved — must be 
 embodied in the unity of self -consciousness, signifies : 
 the mode of thinking must be reversed (precisely as the 
 proposition: the ground of something is not to be found 
 in the Ego, and yet there must be a ground ; signifies : 
 that ground is va. the non-Ego). 
 
 This function of the reflective power of judgment arises 
 only, however, where subsumption is not possible; and 
 reflective judgment prescribes itself its own law, namely, 
 the law to reverse the law of subsumption. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Nature — at present as yet only my nature, but which, 
 in its essence, is nature — determines itself. But nature, as 
 such, is characterised through opposition to freedom ; or 
 through this : that, whereas all being of freedom is to 
 proceed from a thinking, all being of nature is, on the 
 contrary, to proceed itself from an absolute being. Hence, 
 nature, as such, cannot determine itself like a free-being, 
 through a conception. Nature determines itself signifies 
 therefore : nature is determined to determine itself through 
 its essence ; is determined formaliter to determine itself 
 in general; or nature can never be undetermined, as 
 a free being may well be. Again, nature is determined to 
 determine itself materialiter, or precisely in such and such 
 a manner, having no choice between a determination and 
 its opposite, as a free being well has. 
 
 My nature is not all nature. There is nature outside 
 of me, and this external nature is posited for the very 
 sake of explaining the determination of my nature. Now, 
 my nature is described as an impulse ; and this impulse 
 must, therefore, be explained, and is originally, in fact, 
 explained from that other nature. In other words, the 
 determinedness of my nature as an impulse, is result' of 
 the determinedness of all nature. The impulse belongs 
 
ii8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 to me in so far as I am nature, not in so far as I am 
 intelligence ; for the intelUgence, as such, has, as we have 
 seen, not the remotest influence upon the impulse. Hence, 
 the conception of the impulse is synthetically united with 
 the conception of nature, and to he explained from it; 
 and hence, everything which is thought in the conception 
 of nature, is thought as impulse, and hence, as self- 
 determining. 
 
 As I must separate my nature from all other nature, 
 so can I also, since nature is a general manifold, separate 
 parts of that external nature from other parts. (We 
 assert here only an ideal separation, leaving it undecided 
 whether there may be still another ground of this 
 separating than the freedom of arbitrary thinking; i.e., 
 imdecided whether there are actually, and independently 
 of our thinking, separate parts of nature.) 
 
 The part thus separated must be through itself what it 
 is, but the whole must contain the ground of its thus 
 determining itself. The whole, however, is nothing but 
 the reciprocal action of the sum of all the parts upon 
 each other. 
 
 Or still more clear : Abstract from your own nature — 
 because your nature involves a characteristic distinction 
 from all other nature, namely, the necessity to limit it 
 precisely so far and no further — and reflect merely upon 
 external nature : separate from that nature whatever part 
 you may chose. That you happen to consider precisely 
 this quantum of nature, as a separate part, of this the 
 ground lies exclusively in your free reflection. Call this 
 separate part X. In X there is impulse, and a deter- 
 mined impulse; but that impulse is precisely a thus 
 determined impulse, is determined through this, that 
 outside of X there is precisely so much nature existing, 
 which nature, through its existence, limits the impulse of 
 that separate part to be the totality, and leaves to it only 
 such a limited quantum of reality, and giving to it for the 
 rest only an impulse. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 119 
 
 Now, if we had not been forced to characterize nature 
 as an impulse, we could have posited all that X is not 
 in X only as negation. But at present, having posited 
 nature as impulse, we posit all that X is not as impulse 
 in X. For the general tendency to have reality pene- 
 trates the whole, and is in each part of the whole. But 
 since each is only a part, each lacks all the reality of the 
 other parts, and has only an impulse left for them.. That 
 this remainder is only impulse, and is precisely a thus- 
 determined impulse, has its ground therein, because 
 outside of the part there is still something else, and a 
 precisely thus-determined something else. 
 
 Now at present X is a separate part for me, solely 
 because I have made it such through freedom of think- 
 ing. Nothing prevents me from again separating from it, 
 by the same freedom, another part — Y. In Y also there 
 is impulse, determined through all that exists outside of 
 it, including that which I previously called X. Again, 
 nothing prevents me from separating from Y another 
 part — Z. This Z will be related to Y as Y was related 
 to X. In short, in this mode of procedure there is 
 absolutely no primary and no ultimate. I can make 
 each part again a totality, and eac h totahty a part . 
 "" That which is constituteci in such a manner as forces 
 us to say of each part , that it is determined through 
 I itself, and yet likewise that this its self-determinedness 
 is again the result of the determinedness of all other part^ 
 through themselves , we call an or ganic whole. Each part 
 of the whole can again be considered as an organic 
 whole , or as a part, and only the highest cannot be 
 regarded as a part. Natv/re in General is, therefore, such 
 an org anic whole, and is posited as such. 
 
 Te can illustrate this conception in another way. 
 According to the conception of natural mechanism, each 
 thing is, through another, what it is, and manifests its 
 existence in a third. According to the conception of an 
 impulse, each thing is, through itself, what it is, and 
 
i2o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 manifests its existence in itself. Now, if a free, being 
 is to be thought, then this conception is valid in all its 
 strictness, without the least modification — not as con- 
 ception of an impulse, but as conception of absolute 
 freedom. Freedom is directly opposited to natural mechan- 
 ism, and is in no manner determined thereby. But when 
 we speak of an impulse of nature, then the general 
 character of nature, namely, as a mechanism, must be 
 retained, together with the character of an impulse, and 
 both characters, therefore, synthetically joined together : 
 by which means we shall receive a mediating link between 
 nature as mere mechanism (or the causality-relation) ; 
 and freedom as the opposite of mechanism (or the sub- 
 stantiality-relation), which third link we, indeed, very 
 much need to explain the causality of freedom in nature. 
 The conception of this synthesis is clearly the conception 
 just developed by us. Something = A, is, indeed, through 
 itself what it is, but that it is precisely this through 
 itself has its ground in the other {i.e., in all possible - A). 
 Again" that the other is precisely this, and that A is 
 precisely thus determined, has its ground in A itself, since 
 -A on its part becomes through A what it is. Thus, 
 necessity and independence are united, and we have no 
 longer the simple thread of causality, but the closed 
 sphere of reciprocal activity. 
 
 V. 
 
 I must posit my nature as a closed whole, to which 
 there appertains precisely so much and no naore: such 
 is the result of our proof. The conception of this totality 
 cannot be explained upon the standpoint of common 
 consciousness, upon which we have placed the Ego in our 
 whole latter investigation, from any reflection of that 
 consciousness, as the transcendental philosopher, indeed, 
 does explain it ; but the conception is simply given. My 
 nature is determined and fixed in this manner, and this 
 totality itself is nature. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 121 
 
 Let us ask first: How do I comprehend at all, and 
 according to what law do I think something in nature as 
 aj real organic whole, since this something is itself only 
 a part of nature in general ? This question is asked very 
 properly, for, as yet, we have only deduced the totality 
 of nature as a real whole, but not any part thereof ; and 
 yet it is a fact that we think at least our own nature, 
 which, after all, is only a part of the whole of nature, 
 as a complete whole. 
 
 I have said: A rmX whole, and this determination is 
 the chief point. Let me first explain this conception 
 by its opposite. In the manner in which we regarded 
 nature just now, it was completely a matter of the free- 
 dom of reflection, to grasp each part as a whole, and 
 again to separate this part into ever so many parts, etc., 
 I had a totaUty, but simply because I had made it a 
 totality, and there was no other ground of determination 
 for its limits than the freedom of my thinking. I had an 
 ideal totality, a collective unity, but by no means a real 
 totality. I had an aggregate, and not a compositum. If 
 my whole is to be a real totahty, then its parts must 
 unite in a whole of themselves and independently of my 
 thinking. 
 
 Reality is determined thi'ough a compulsion of reflec- 
 tion, whereas reflection is free in the representation of 
 the ideal. This freedom, to limit the totality arbitrarily, 
 must therefore be cancelled, and the intelligence be com- 
 pelled to gather precisely so much and no more within it, 
 if it is to become a real totality. Such is the case, as 
 we have seen, with reference to the representation of my 
 nature as a fixed whole. 
 
 Now, through what law of thinking may this necessity 
 of a determination of the limits arise for us ? Wherever 
 we can no longer comprehend through mere subsump- 
 tion, there the law of reflective judgment enters, and the 
 latter is a mere reversion of the former. Now, it might 
 well happen that our power of judgment, once safely 
 
122 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 arrived within the sphere of reflection, can no longer 
 comprehend even by means of the law which arose from 
 a reversion of the law of subsumption ; and hence it 
 would have again to reverse that law. Thus there would 
 arise a composite law of reflection, a reciprocahty of 
 reflection with itself. (We are to comprehend something. 
 We cannot comprehend it by the law of subsumption, 
 and hence we reverse that law, and obtain the law of 
 reflection ; now we are again to comprehend something 
 else, and if we cannot even comprehend by this new law 
 of reflection, hence we have to reverse it again.) Each 
 part of nature is through itself, and in itself, what it is. 
 So says the simple conception of reflection. But accord- 
 ing to the conception, which arose by reversing the simple 
 conception of reflection, no part of nature is through and 
 for itself what it is, but only the totality is through and 
 for itself. Hence each part of the totality is determined 
 through all other parts of the same totahty, and each 
 complete totality is itself to be regarded as we regarded 
 the whole universe, which latter, therefore, changes from 
 a totality of parts, into a totality of totalities,* a system 
 of real totalities. 
 
 Let us now analyze these conceptions still further, and 
 thus connect our present argument with what we have 
 previously said. According to our previous result, each 
 had its measure of reahty, and for all other reality an 
 impulse. Impulse and reality were in reciprocal causality, 
 and mutually exhausted each other. In none was there 
 an impulse to have a reality, which it possessed, nor a 
 lack, which it had not an impulse to replace. This mode 
 of consideration we were able to continue or stop at 
 pleasure; it fitted whatsoever came to our notice, and 
 everything was perfectly uniform. 
 
 But at present a determined = X is asserted to be given, 
 which cannot be comprehended by this sort of conception. 
 HoWj then, must it be constituted ? Let us consider any 
 * Leibnitz's Monads. — Tr. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 123 
 
 particular part of X, and call it A. If in A impulse and 
 reality could not be reciprocally explained each from the 
 other, if the impulse did not impel to have a reality 
 which A lacked, and which belonged to A, or if the 
 impulse did impel to have reality which A lacked not, 
 and which did not belong to A; then A could not 
 be explained and comprehended through itself. My 
 comprehending would be shut oi3f; I should not have 
 comprehended anything, and it would be evident that 
 I ought not to have arbitrarily separated the part A 
 from X. 
 
 Now let us consider the remainder of X = B. If B, 
 considered in and for itself, were to result just as A did, 
 so far as the relation of impulse and reality are concerned ; 
 but if it were likewise to appear that the impulse in B 
 impels to have the reality which A lacks, whereas, on the 
 other hand, the impulse in A impels to have the reality 
 lacking in B : then my consideration of B would lead me 
 back to A, in order to ascertain whether A really lacks 
 that reality for which I discovered impulse in B, and 
 whether there is really in A an impulse for the reality 
 I discovered lacking in B. Thus should I be compelled 
 to consider the matter once more, or to reflect upon, and 
 thus limit my reflection. A composite reflection would 
 thus arise, and, since it is governed by necessity, a 
 composite law of reflection. 
 
 Moreover, since I could, in like manner, not comprehend 
 A except through B, and vice, versa; and since I should 
 thus be forced to synthetically unite both: X would 
 become a real and not merely an ideal totahty. 
 
 But X generally is also organic nature, and hence, the 
 general law of that nature must apply to it. In so far, it 
 is infibttitely divisible. Hence, I can divide A in 6 c c^, 
 and again e f g, etc., ad infinitum. Each part, as nature 
 in general, has reality and impulse, and is, in so far, 
 independent; but each part has this pecuharity, that 
 the relation between its impulse and reality cannot be 
 
124 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 explained out of itself; for, otherwise, it would not be a 
 part of the actual totality X. 
 
 No part can be explained before all parts of X are 
 gathered together. Each part tends to satisfy the need 
 of all, and all, on the other hand, tend to satisfy the need 
 of each single part. That which can only be compre- 
 hended in this manner, we shall call for the present, until, 
 perhaps, we can find a better name for it: an actual 
 organic whole. 
 
 I myself am at least such an organic whole. Whether 
 there are more such outside of me, we cannot at present 
 decide. The decision will depend upon this: whether 
 I can comprehend myself as such an organic whole 
 without assuming others outside of me or not ? But at 
 present, the only question is: how such an actual whole 
 may be explained out of nature, and what new predicates 
 may be ascribed to nature by means of this explanation. 
 
 By requiring that something shall be explained out 
 of nature, we require that it shall be explained to us from 
 a law of physical, and not of moral, necessity. Hence, 
 by merely asserting the possibility of such an explanation, 
 we assert that it is necessary for nature, and one of the 
 qualities absolutely appertaining to nature, to organize 
 itself into actual totalities, and that the rational being can 
 think nature only in this manner, and not otherwise. 
 
 (Let no one, therefore, take refuge, from pure laziness of 
 re ason, in the assumption of an intelligence as the creator 
 or architect of the world ; for, amongst other things, it Is 
 — Jjjrstiy, perfectly unthin kable that an intelligence shou ld 
 create matter ; and. seconcLlY. it is as yet ^cnrnp rehensible 
 how reason can have any influence upon nature, which, 
 indeed, we are at present endeavouring to explain. For, 
 let an intelligence be ever so able to compose and connect, 
 the result of this will merely be aggregation and alliga- 
 tion, but never a melting together, which latter process 
 presupposes an internal power in nature herself. Neither 
 let anyone attempt to explain organization from mechanical 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 125 
 
 laws. Those laws involve an everlasting repelliag and 
 moving away of matter, involve attraction and repulsion, but 
 nothing more. The law of organism is an immanent law of 
 nature, which rational beings must think when thinking the 
 conception of nature, in order to be able to explain itself ; 
 but which law can itself be no further explained. To 
 explain it would signify to deduce it from mechanism. 
 
 Of course it is only from the standpoint of common con- 
 sciousness, and of common science, that this law remains a 
 final absolute, and unexplainable. But from the stand- 
 point of transcendental philosophy, and in the science of 
 knowledge, it is easily explained, since that science 
 explains all nature and deduces it from the Ego.) 
 
 The only question is, what sort of a law this may be, 
 and what determined process of nature must necessarily 
 be asstmied in assuming it ? According to our previously 
 established law, each thing which is a thing of nature is, 
 through itself, and for itself, that which it is ; no thiag is 
 anything to another, and no other thing is anything to it. 
 This is the principle of substantiality; whereas that of 
 natural mechanism is the principle of causality. 
 
 Now, according to our present principle, there is no 
 possible element, to which that principle of substantiality 
 may apply; no element is self-sufficient, and for and 
 through itself independent; each needs another, and this 
 other needs it. There is in each an impulse for another. 
 
 If there is such a new principle, then the impulse thus 
 determined rules throughout nature. Hence this law of 
 nature may also be then expressed: each part of nature 
 is impelled to unite its being and its working with the 
 being and working of a determined other part of nature, 
 and to dissolve together with it in space — if we think 
 these parts in space. This impulse we call the organizing 
 principle in the active and passive significance of the 
 word. It is the impulse to organize and to be organized, 
 and it is necessary in nature; e.g., it is not a foreign 
 ingredient without which nature might get along just as 
 
126 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 well. Only let care be taken not to think the seat of 
 this impulse as either here or there; or, still worse, to 
 think this impulse as itself a separate part. It is no 
 substance at all, but an accidence, and an accidence 
 pertaining to all parts. 
 
 By thus positing the organization of the Ego as the 
 result of a law of nature, we have at least gained so 
 much that we find the organizing principle throughout 
 all nature; for whether this impulse has causality also 
 outside of our bodies, we are not as yet to decide. 
 
 But in me — this is our second point gained — this 
 impulse has certainly causality. Certain parts of nature, 
 and of the being and working of nature, have united 
 themselves to produce one being and one causality. In 
 this respect, that which we called an actual whole of 
 nature may more properly be called organized product 
 of nature. 
 
 There are such products, for I myself am such. We 
 do not speak, as yet, of materiality in space, which would 
 result in an actual manifold, although it might be easy to 
 deduce it ; but it is at least sure that the ideal manifold 
 within me unites to form organization. Now this uniting 
 is product of the organizing power of nature. 
 
 Hence the result of our present investigation is this : 
 As sure as I am, I must ascribe causality to nature, since 
 I can posit myself only as the product of nature. 
 
 We have therefore proven, though by no means yet 
 completely analyzed, that which was to be proven. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 RESULTS FKOM THE FOREGOING. 
 
 I FIND myself as an organized product of nature. But 
 in such a product the essence of the part consists in 
 an impulse to maintain certain other parts in unity with 
 itself, which impulse, when attributed to the whole, is 
 called the impulse of self-preservation. For since the 
 essence of the whole is nothing but a uniting of certain 
 pants... into i feplf I self-preservation is simply the preserva- 
 tion of this uniting. To see this clearly, let the reader 
 consider the following : Each possible part strives to unite 
 other determined parts with itself. But this tendency 
 can have no causality unless parts that mutually support 
 each other are united ; for only on this condition does an 
 organized whole exist. Now, the whole is nothing but 
 the parts taken together. Hence, nothing can be in the 
 whole but that which is in the parts, namely, a desire to 
 gather certain parts into itself; and, in so far as a complete 
 whole is to exist, this desire must have causality. Its 
 essence consists in a reciprocal causality between this 
 tendency and this causality, which are mutually con- 
 ditioned through another, for it is a whole, and the 
 comprehending of the same is completed ; and, in so far, 
 the above established conception applies again to it in 
 relation to all other nature. It preserves itself, signifies : 
 it preserves that reciprocal causality between its tendency 
 and its causality. If either is cancelled, everthing is 
 
128 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 cancelled. A product of nature, which no longer organizes 
 itself, ceases to be an organized product, for the character 
 of organization consists in the continuing of the process 
 of organization. 
 
 The tendency to sel f-preservation , is not, as seems 
 generally to be assumed, a^tendency which desires existence 
 in general, but whic h desires a particular determined exi s- 
 tence ; it is an impulse of the thing to he and to remain 
 that which it is. For mere general existence is simply an 
 abstract conception, and not anything concrete. An 
 impulse having it for its object does not exist at all. A 
 rational beiag never desires to be in order to he, but in 
 order to he this or that. Neither does an irrational 
 product of nature ever strive and work to be, but always 
 to be precisely that which it is ; an apple tree strives 
 to be and remain an apple tree, and a pear tree a pear 
 tree. In irrational products of nature, moreover, the 
 impulse is, at the same time, effect ; and hence, the apple 
 tree can never bear pears, nor the pear tree apples. 
 To change kind in this manner is a check of the whole 
 organization, and sooner or later results in its destruction. 
 
 It is in like manner with me. There is in me an 
 impulse, originated through nature, and relating itself 
 to objects of nature, in order to unite them with my being ; 
 not exactly to gather them into myseK, as I do meat and 
 drink through digestion, but rather to relate them in 
 general to my natural necessities, or to put them into 
 a certain relation with myself. Now, this impulse is the 
 impulse of self-preservation in the above specified signifi- 
 cance of the word, of the preservation of myself as this 
 particular product of nature. The relating of those means 
 to my impulse and object is done immediately and, abso- 
 lutely without all mediating cognition, calculation, or 
 consideration. That upon which this impulse is directed, 
 belongs to my preservation, because the impulse craves it ; 
 and whatsoever belongs to my preservation the impulse 
 craves, because it belongs to my preservation, The con- 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 129 
 
 nectiou is not made through freedom, but is involved in 
 nature's law of organization. 
 
 Here already we meet an important fact, the results 
 whereof extend very far, and the neglect whereof has 
 been of great disadvantage as well to philosophy in 
 general as to the science of morality in particular. 
 — My impulse craves the object X. Does perhaps the 
 attraction proceed from X, and taking hold of my nature, 
 thus determine my impulse? By no means. The impulse 
 solely proceeds out from my nature. This nature has 
 already determined, in advance, what is to exist for me, 
 and my impulses and tendencies are directed upon all 
 that which is thus determined to exist for me, even 
 before it actually does exist and affect me; nay, would 
 crave it even though it could not exist for me, and would 
 never be satisfied without it. But it does exist and must 
 exist, by virtue of the completedness of nature as an 
 organized totality in itself. I do not hunger because food 
 exists for me, but certain objects of nature become food 
 for me because I am hungry. It is the same with all 
 organized products of nature. A plant is not impelled 
 by the existence of substances which belong to its 
 composition to gather them up into itself, but rather 
 the internal construction of the plant demands the 
 existence of precisely these substances independent of 
 their actual existence, and if these substances did not 
 exist in nature at all, that plant could also not exist 
 in nature. 
 
 In short, everywhere is harmony and reciprocality, not 
 mere mechanism, for mechanism produces no impulse [ 
 As sure as I am I, my desires and tendencies never 
 proceed — even in my most animal needs — from the 
 external object, but always from myself. If this remark 
 is overlooked here, it will not be understood when it. 
 occurs again in a more important part, viz., when we 
 come to develop the law of morality. 
 
I30 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 II, 
 
 This my impulse is, moreover, for me an object of my 
 reflection, and ttiis necessarily as described above. As 
 certain as I reflect at all, am I necessitated to perceive 
 this impulse, and to posit it as mine. I say, as certain as 
 / reflect, for reflection itself is no product of nature, and 
 cannot be such. Itself in its form occurs with absolute 
 spontaneity, and only the object of the reflection, and the 
 necessity to attend to this object, is an effect of nature. 
 
 Through this reflection directed upon the impulse there 
 arises firstly a vearnina. a feeling of a need not known to 
 . one's self. We lack we do not know what. Even through 
 this, as the very first result of reflection, is the Ego 
 distinguished from all other products of nature. Im- 
 pulses in the latter either result in being satisfied, or 
 result in nothing at all. 
 
 No one will seriously assert that in dry weather plants 
 experience a yearning, caused by the absence of water. 
 They either drink or wither, and there is no third result 
 as the effect of their natural impulse. 
 
 III. 
 
 As intelligence, and hence as subject of consciousness, 
 I am absolutely free and dependent only upon my self- 
 determination. This is my character. Hence my nature 
 also, in so far as it is assigned to me ; i.e., in so far as it is 
 immediate object of consciousness, must also be dependent 
 only upon self-determination. 
 
 But in how far is it assigned to me, as sulject of 
 consciousness? The product of the reciprocal causality 
 of my natjare is the impulse. Now this reciprocal 
 causality is not my causality as intelligence; I do not 
 become immediately conscious of it at all. The impulse 
 itself is likewise not my product, it is given and does not 
 depend upon my freedom. But the impulse enters con- 
 sciousness, and all it effects in this region depends upon 
 
B^^^jJ^K^^ 
 
 11 
 
 THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 131 
 
 me, or rather, the impulse has no effect in this region at 
 all, it being I who do or do not effect something in it by 
 virtue of that impulse. Here, then, lies the transition to 
 self-determination on the part of the rational being ; here 
 lies the determined and sharpdrawn limit between 
 necessity and freedom. 
 
 The satisfaction of the impulse in plant or animal 
 occurs necessarily wherever its conditions arise. But 
 man is not at all impelled by his natural impulse. Our 
 digestion, the change of our food into nourishment, or the 
 circulation of our blood, &c., are not matters under our 
 control, they are the processes of nature in us, abo ve 
 alluded to. They are not under our control, as intelli- 
 gence, because we do not immediately become conscious of 
 them ; for that which physiologists or doctors know of 
 them they know inediately. But the satisfying of our 
 hunger or thirst is under our control, since we have 
 immediate consciousness of our desire for food and drink. 
 Or, is there anyone willing to assert that he eats and 
 drinks with the same mechanical necessity wherewith 
 he digesta 
 
 In short, it is not within mv control t o f eel or not feel 
 an impulse within me, but it is withm mjy contr ol to 
 satisfy it or not. 
 
 I reflect on my ^-earning, and thus raise to clear con- 
 sciousness w hat at first was only a dark feeling! ^But I 
 cannot reflect on it without determining it as a yearning, 
 in consequence of the universally valid law of reflection ; 
 or, in other words, without distinguishing it from another 
 possible yearning. But one yearning can be distinguished 
 from another only through its object. Hence through 
 this second reflection I also become conscious of the 
 object of my yearning; concerning the reality or non- 
 reality whereof we do not as yet trouble ourselves. We 
 merely posit it here as an object yearned for. But a 
 'earning determined t.>n-r.ncfb it,a obiect ia called |7mgg. 
 
132 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 The manifold of desire united into one conception, and 
 considered, as a faculty grounded in the Ego, is called 
 faculty of desire. If we should in the course of our 
 investigation meet with another desire — the manifold 
 whereof we could also unite into a faculty — it would be 
 proper to call the present faculty, as Kant has indeed 
 called it, th e lowar desire. 
 
 The form of this desire as such, i.e., that it is an 
 impulse accompanied by consciousness , has its ground in 
 the free act of reflection. But that an impulse exists at 
 all, and that this impulse or this desire is directed 
 precisely upon such an object, has its ground in nature; 
 not however in external nature, in the nature of objects, 
 but in my own nature, and hence it is an immanent 
 ) ground. Thus even in desire does freedom already^ 
 manifest itself, smce a free reflection enters between 
 yearmng and desiring. 
 
 Hence ii is weii possible to suppress inordinate desires, 
 by not reflecting upon, by ignoring them, or by busying 
 oneself, particularly with mental labour; ia short, by not 
 " giving way to them," as the theological moralists very 
 properly express themselves. 
 
 My desire has for its object things of nature, either 
 with a view to immediately unite them with me (like 
 food and drink) or, to place them into a certain relation 
 to me (like free air, fine prospect, clear weather), etc. 
 
 Now things of nature exist firstly in space for me, 
 which we presuppose as well known from the science of 
 knowledge; and hence that wherewith they are to be 
 united, or to which they are to be placed in a certain, 
 relation, must also exist in space ; since there is no uniting 
 of that which has space, and no relating of it except to 
 that which also is in space ; for otherwise it would either 
 not remain in space, which is absurd, or it would not be 
 a relation, which is against the presupposition. Now 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 133 
 
 that which is in space and fills space we call matter. I 
 am, therefore, as product of nature, matter, and, according 
 to the above, organized matter, forming a fixed totality. 
 We call this our hodiy. 
 
 But it is, secondly, to h^ y;r;t,hm thp. pnntrnl nf my ■yyill, 
 
 whether I will unite things with, me . or, place them into 
 a relation to me, or not. Now this uniting and relation 
 relates to parts of my organized body, and this (my 
 body) is the immediate instrument of my will. Hence 
 these parts must stand under the control of my will. 
 Again, since here we speak of relations in space, these 
 parts as parts, i.e. in their relation to the totality of my 
 body, must be^ movable ,: and my body itself must be 
 movable in its relation to the totality of nature. More- 
 over, since this movement is to depend upon a free pro- 
 duced conception, indefinitely modifiable, it must be a 
 manifold movement. Such an arrangement of the body 
 is called articulation. If I am to be f ree, my body must 
 be articulated. (Compare the first part of my science of 
 rights.) 
 
 Eemark. 
 
 We have arrived at one of those standpoints from 
 which we can comfortably look around us, and observe 
 whether our investigation has been somewhat cleared up. 
 
 There exists in us an impulse for things of natu re, in 
 order to bring them mto a certain relation to our own 
 nature ; an i mpulse which has no object except itself, and 
 which craves to satisfy itself merely that it may be 
 satisfied. Satisfaction for the sake of satisfactio n is 
 called mere enjoyment. 
 
 It is of importance to us that the conviction of the 
 absoluteness of this natural impulse should force itself 
 upon everyone. Each organised product of nature is its 
 own ol^ect, i.e. it organizes simply for t he sake of organizing , 
 and organizes thus, simply u^ ~ Qrderto/prga^ thus." Not 
 as if we wanted to say that the irrational product of 
 
t34 I'HE SCIENCE OF ETHICS, 
 
 nature never thinks another object than itself ; for this is 
 self -understood, since it does not think at all; but we 
 wish to say, that even an intelligence outside of such 
 product cannot — without being illogical, and explaining 
 utterly wrongly — ascribe any other or external object to 
 such products. There is only a.n internal and absolut e, 
 j hnt hv no means a relative, teleological arrangement in 
 nature ; since the latter oniy arises through the manifold 
 purposes which a free being may propose to itself, and, 
 perhaps in part, execute in nature. 
 
 It is the same with the rational being in so far as it is 
 TTif.rft }ia.t,n rp. It satisfies itself simply in order to satisfy 
 itself, and every determined object which satisfies it, 
 exists simply because precisely such object was required 
 by the nature of the rational being. Again, since the 
 rational being becomes conscious of its yearning, it 
 necessarily also becomes conscious of the satisfaction of 
 this yearning; this satisfaction produces enjoyment, and 
 this enjoyment is its last end and object. The natural 
 man does not eat wit h a^yiew to preserve and strengthen 
 
 ^ his body, but because hunger is painful, and food pleasant 
 to him . 
 
 Several analysers of our feelings, particularly Mendels- 
 sohn, h ave explained the feeling of enjoyment a!s arismg" 
 
 " trom the feeling of an improvement of our bodily con- 
 dition. T his is quite correct if mere sensual enjoyment 
 is meant, and if the bodily condition is accepted merely 
 as a state of organization. Jersusalem, in his Philosophical 
 Essays, objects to this theory, that enjoyment is felt even 
 when our bodily condition is growing worse, nay, in the 
 immediate feeling of this growing worse, as, for instance, 
 in the case of d^jiakaEda. when they are becoming in- 
 toxicated. But in all examples of this kind it will be 
 remarked that the growing wo.rfifi-haa-.Qnljurefe£fi3iES- to 
 t.bR Rta.tp. of aTtipii]j^,tinn, whfirea s.jhe state of the organ i- 
 
 U'^tijftff is, ';?o^?§t^,ant1y_growing better at the time, the play 
 
 land the reciprocal action of the several parts more perfect, 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 135 
 
 and their commumcation with surrounding nature more 
 unchecked. But all sensuous enjoyment, as we hav e 
 shown, has reference to the organization of the body , 
 whereas the articulation ^.s such, as tool af our freedom . 
 is n ot truly product of nat ure, but rather of practice 
 through freedom ; and the bad results, which the organi- 
 zation may be threatened with, we do not take into 
 account, since the future is never immediately felt. Man 
 is herein a mere plant. When the plant grows it would 
 feel well, could it reflect. But the plant might also over- 
 grow, and thus hasten on its destruction, and yet not be 
 disturbed in its feeling of satisfaction. 
 
 Now, it is within our power of freedom to either follow 
 this impulse of mere enjoyment or not. Each satisfying 
 of an impulse, if consciously undertaken, is necessarily 
 done through freedom, and our body is so arranged that we 
 can work through it with freedom. 
 
 In so far as man has mere enjoyment for his object, he 
 is dependent upon something given, namely, upon the 
 existence of the object of his impulse ; hence, he is not 
 self-sufficient, and the attainment of his purpose depends 
 also in part upon nature. But, in so far as man but 
 reflects and thus becomes subject of consciousness — we have 
 shown above, that he necessarily reflects on the impulse, — 
 he becomes Ego, and hence, the tendency of reason to 
 ahsolutely determine itself through itself, as subject of con- 
 sciousness, will manifest itself in him. 
 
 One important question. My impulse as a being of 
 nature, and my tendency as pure spirit: are they two 
 different impulses ? By no means. From the transcen- 
 dental point of view, both are one and the same original 
 impulse, which constitutes my being, only regarded from 
 two different sides. For I am subject-object, and in the 
 identity and inseparability of both consists my true beiag. 
 If I regard myself as object, completely determined through 
 the laws of sensuous perception and discursive thinking, 
 then that, which is in part my only impulse, becomes my 
 
136 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 natural impulse, because I myself am nature from this 
 point of view. But if I regard myself as subject, then that 
 impulse becomes for me a purely spiritual impulse, or 
 a law of my self-determination. All t he phenomena of the 
 1^0 are based simply upon the reciprocity ot tnese tw o 
 impnlapg w>^ip}i t.^y n jmpvilRPs a.TP. in fact. oTilv the rec i- 
 ^TOat^^Iation of n«^ ntiA the same impulse t n jfi^'lf ■ I't'S 
 self-relation. 
 
 This expiaTns, at the same time, how two such utter 
 opposites as the two impulses can occur in a being, which 
 is to be absolutely one and the sai»e. Both are,- indeed, 
 also one; but the whole Egoness is based upon their 
 appearing as two opposites. The liitiit between both is 
 
 The reflectiug, as that which contemplates in the re- 
 flection, is higher than the reflected, rises above and 
 embraces it ; hence, the impulse of the reflectiug, of the 
 subject of consciousness, is properly called the higher 
 .mpulse, and a faculty of desire, determinfed by it, is called 
 
 th e higher faculty of desj ra. 
 
 Only the reflected is nature. The reflecting is opposed 
 to it, and hence, is no nature, but raised above all nature. 
 The higher impulse, as the impulse of the purely 
 spiritual, is directed upon absolute self-determination to 
 an activity for the mere sake of the activity. Hence, it 
 is opposed to all enjoyment which is a mere passive 
 surre ndering to nature. 
 
 But both constitute only one and the same Ego ; hence, \ 
 both impulses must be united within the sphere of con- 
 sciousness. It will appear that in this union the higher 
 impulse must abandon its purity, i.e., its non-determined- 
 ness through an object; whilst the lower impulse must 
 abandon its enjoyment, for the mere sake of enjoyment. 
 Hence, as result, there will appear an objective activity, 
 the final end whereof is absolute freedom, absolute inde- 
 pendence of nature. But this is an infinite, never 
 attainable end; and hence, it can only be our problem 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. I37 
 
 to state how we must act in order to approach that 
 final end. 
 
 To take cognizance merely of the higher impulse would 
 result in a mere metaphysic of morals, which is formal and 
 empty. Only through synthetically uniting it with the 
 lower impulse do we attain a science of morals which 
 is real. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CONCERNING FREEDOM AND THE HIGHER IMPULSE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Th e final production of my nature, as such, is an impulse. - 
 / reflect on myself, i.e., on this my given nature, which, as 
 immediate object of my reflection, is nothing but an im- 
 pulse . Now, everything depends upon our completely 
 determining this reflection. In order to do so, we must 
 examine — 1st, its form; 2nd, its content; and 3rd, the 
 corunection of both. 
 
 That the reflection occurs, or it s form, is an absolute 
 fact ; it occurs because it does, or becaus e I am I. So far 
 as its content or object is concerned, we have already 
 shown that this is our natural impulse, and the only ques- 
 tion is, how far our nature may be the immediate object 
 of that reflection. This, also, we have already answered 
 as follows: in so far as I am necessitated to assign somewhat 
 to me as the reflecting. The connection of both is, that 
 both are to be one and the same. I, the natural being (for 
 another I does not exist for me), am at the same time for 
 myself the reflecting. That natural being is the substance, 
 and the reflection is an accidence of that substance; is an 
 expression of the freedom of the natural being. Thus 
 posits the reflection about to be described. Concerning 
 the ground of this connection, common consciousness does 
 not even ask. From the standpoint of common conscious- 
 ness it would merely be said: "I happen to be such a 
 being, with such a given nature, and the consciousness 
 
 138 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 139 
 
 thereof; and that suffices"; leaving altogether uncom- 
 prehended, which indeed that standpoint also does not 
 propose to comprehend, how such a harmony between 
 complete and mutually independent opposites is at all 
 possible. That nature, on its part, determines and limits 
 something in the manner in which my nature is deter- 
 mined and limited, can be comprehended; and likewise, 
 that the intelligence, on its part, forms a certain repre- 
 sentation and determines it in a certain manner. But 
 how both, in their independent actions, should harmonize 
 and arrive at the, same result, is utterly incomprehensible, 
 since neither the intelligence gives laws j to nature, nor 
 nature to the intellige nce. The former assertion"wouid, 
 indeed, be Idealism , and the latter Materialism ; whereas 
 the system of fore-established harmony, as usually taken, 
 takes cognizance of neither side, and leaves the question 
 unanswered. 
 
 From the standpoint of transcendental philosophy we 
 have already^^lved this problem. There is no such thing 
 I as nature (by] itself.: my nature and all other nature, 
 posited to explain mine, is merely a peculiar manner of 
 regarding myself. I am limited only in the world of 
 intelligence, and through this limitation of my original 
 impulse my reflection is most certainly limited to myself, 
 and, vice versd, through my reflection of myself my 
 original impulse is limited ; of course, for me, since we 
 cannot speak of any other limitation of myself than for 
 myself. On the standpoint of transcendentalism we have 
 no independent twofold at all, but an absolute simple; 
 and where there is no diiference it were absurd to speak 
 of a haJmonv. or ask for its ground. 
 
 But at present we occupy the standpoint of common 
 consciousness, and follow its path. Through the described 
 reflection the Ego tears itself loose from all, that is, to be 
 outside of it, gets itself under its own control, and places 
 itself before itself as absolutely self-sufficient. For the 
 reflecting is self-sufficient, and only dependent upon itself; 
 
140 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 but the reflected is the same as the reflecting. Not, as 
 might seem at the first glance, as if we merely meant to 
 say that the Ego, from this point inwards, simply observes 
 itself; nay, we distinctly assert that from this point 
 nothing can occur in the Ego without the active deter- 
 miiiing of the intelhgence. Eeflecting and reflected are 
 united, and represent one single undivided person. The 
 reflected brings the actual power, and the reflecting brings 
 consciousness, into the person. The person hereafter can 
 do nothing except with consciousness and according to 
 free conceptions . 
 
 An actuality, which has its ground in a conception, is 
 called a product of freedom. IJo actuality caa,Jrom th e 
 stated point, be ascribed to the Ego, except as a co n- 
 sequ ence of the Ego's own conception thereof. Hence 
 the Ego is free from that point onwards, and ail that the 
 Ego henceforth does is product of this freedom. 
 
 This is indeed the important point, and it is our 
 present intention to clear up at once the theory of 
 freedom. Each link in a series of nature is a pre- 
 determiner, be it according to Jhe law of mechanism or 
 of _organization. Hence if we know, the nature of a thing, 
 and the law which governs it, we can tell for all time to 
 come how the thing will manifest itself. But that which 
 occurs in the Ego, commencing at the point where it 
 became an Ego, and providing the Ego truly remains Ego, 
 is. not predetermined, and is absolutely imdeterminable. 
 There is no law according to which free self-determinations 
 occur or may be calculated in advance, since they are 
 dependent upon the self-determination of the Intelligence, 
 which, as such, is absolutely free and altogether pare 
 activity. ^-^ 
 
 ~" A series of nature is ^ajly . Each link in it ejBfects 
 wholly whatsoever it can effect. Bu t a series of freedom- 
 determination consists of rieaps^ and progresses utterly 
 irregulajcly. Think one link of such a series as determined, 
 and callit A. From A many other links are possible, 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 141 
 
 but not all possible links, only one of them = X results. 
 Hence whilst in a series of nature all links connect closely, 
 
 in such a series of freedom the connection breaks off at 
 evp.ry \\r\\ . In a series of freedom-determinations no link 
 can be explained, for each is a primary and absolute. 
 In series of nature the law of causality is valid ; but 
 in the freedom series the law of substantiality rules, 
 i.e. each free resolve is itself substantial , is what it is 
 absolutely tbrnup-h itself. 
 
 Beyond the stated reflection, natural necessity can no 
 longer control me, for beyond it I am no longer a link 
 of nature's chain. The last link of nature is an impulse , 
 but only an impulse, having, ther efore, nocausalit v In a 
 spiritual being ; and thus we can maKe ireeaom com- 
 prehensible even from the standpoint of a philosophy of 
 nature. The causality of nature has its limit; now if 
 there is to be any causality beyond the limit, it must 
 be that of another power. That which results from an 
 impulse is not a result of nature, since nature exhausted " 
 I herself in the production of the impulse. It is I who 
 
 "produce this result, true by means ol a power which 
 T get from nature, but which is no longer, under her 
 but under yiy contro l, since it is under the control of 
 a principle utterly removed beyond the authority of 
 nature, namely, of the Conception. We shall call free- 
 dom in this respect , formal freedom. Whatsoever I do^ 
 simply being conscious m so aomg, I do with formal 
 
 'freedom. Hence a inan might always toUow merely 
 his natural impulse, and yet, if he only acted with 
 consciousness, and not mechanically, we should have to 
 ascribe freedom to him in the above significance of the 
 word, for the last ground of his act would be his con- 
 sciousness of the impulse, and not the natural impulse 
 itself. (I am not aware that any writer has as yet 
 treated the conception of freedom in this respect, in 
 which it is n»vprt,Tip.1ps.=i thp root of all freedom, with 
 care and attention. Perhaps most of the errors and 
 
1 
 
 142 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 complaints respecting the incomprehensibility of our 
 doctrine have their origin in this.) 
 
 CORoLLAEIUM. 
 
 No opponent of the assertion of freedom can deny that 
 he is conscious of states, for which he can assign no other 
 ground than themselves. But the sharpwitted of these 
 opponents say: "It does not follow from that fact that 
 those states have no external ground at all, but merely 
 that we are not conscious of them." And they proceed: 
 "It does not follow that because we are not conscious 
 of those grounds, those states have no causes." Now 
 here they become at once transcenden t. We are abso- 
 lutely unable to posit causes, signifies for us. I trust: 
 Such causes an n ot. They continue : " For everything 
 kas its cause, and nence those resolves, which we believe 
 to be our own, have also their causes, although we are 
 not conscious of these causes." Here they clearly pre- 
 suppose what was to be proven, namely, that the Ego 
 belongs to the series of nature and is subject to the laws 
 of nature ; their proof is, therefore, an evident circle. 
 Of course, the defender of freedom can on hi s part also 
 only presuppose that Egoness, the .conception whereof 
 involves that it does not belong tOJiatuxfi^ But he has 
 the decicfedadvantage over his opponents that he is able 
 to actua ll y build up a system of philosophy, wEip]^ ^hBy ,^ 
 .cannot ao ; and moreover, he has on his side a contem- 
 plation whereof they know nothing. They are only 
 discursive thinkers, and utterly lack intuition. One 
 must not enter into dispute with them, but one ought 
 to cultivate them, if possible. 
 
 II. 
 
 According to the foregoing I am fr ee, but do no t 
 posit my self as free; I am free, perEaps, tor "an intelligence 
 outsiae 01 me, not for myself. But I am something only 
 in so far as I posit myself as such. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 143 
 
 What appertains, let us ask firstly, to this positing 
 myself as free ? I posit myself as free when I become 
 conscious of my transition from undeterminedness to 
 determinedness. I, in so far as I have a power of action, 
 find myself undetermined. In the reflection on this con- 
 dition it is expressed by my power of imagination floating 
 between opposite determinations. With this commences 
 the perception of my freedom. But now I determine 
 myself, and the reflection is also at the same time 
 determined. / determine myself; which is this deter- 
 mining I ? Doubtless the one Ego, which resulted from 
 the union of the reflecting and the reflected; and this 
 same determining Ego is in the same undivided act, and 
 in the same view, likewise the determined. In the con- 
 I sciousness of freedom object and subject are completely 
 I ona xne conception (of my purpose) grows immediately 
 into the deed ; and the deed immediately into the con- 
 ception (cognition of my freedom). 
 
 Those were quite in the right who denied that freedom 
 could be object of consciousness ; Jrp.p.dmn is not object 
 but subject-object of consciousness. It is true that we 
 become immediately conscious of our freedom through 
 the deed, by self-actively tearing ourselves loose from 
 a state of indecision, and choosing a definite purpose, 
 because we choose it, particularly if this purpose runs 
 contrary to all our inclinations, and is nevertheless chosen 
 for duty's sake. But this consciousness requires energy 
 of win and intensity of contempMion. There are in- 
 dividuals, who, in point of fact, never will, but always 
 leave themselves to be driven and impelled by a blind 
 impulse, and who, for that reason, have also never clear 
 consciousness, since they never self-actively produce, 
 determine, and direct their representations, but merely 
 dream a long dream, determined by the dark association 
 of ideas. To these, of course, we do not speak, when we 
 speak of consciousness of freedom. 
 
 Consciousness of my undeterminedness is, therefore, 
 
144 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS, 
 
 the condition of the consciousness of my free-active self- 
 determining. But undeterminedness is not merely no t- 
 deter minedness = 0. tmt is an .undecided floating betwee n 
 many' possible determinations ( = & negative), since othe r- 
 wise it could not be posited, and would be nothing . 
 At present, however, we are as yet unable to tell how 
 freedom can be directed, and posited as thus directed 
 upon many possible determinations. There is no other 
 object of the application of freedom than the natural 
 impulse. Whenever this impulse occurs, there is no 
 reason why freedom should not foUow it. And there 
 is reason why freedom should follow it. True, it might 
 be said, that there are many impidses working at_the 
 same time — though we have no reason to assume this 
 on our present standpoint; but if there are, then the 
 strongest impulse will decide, and we have again no 
 possibility of an undeterminedness. 
 
 In so far as the free being occupies this state, which is 
 not an original state, but may unhappily be too truly an 
 acquired state, we say that the free being follows an 
 inclination; and since this inclination is preceded by no 
 reflection and no undeterminedness, we justly call it a 
 blind inclination; an inclination whereof the free being 
 as such does not, and cannot, become conscious. 
 
 But I am I only, in so far as I am conscious of this 
 my I ; that is to say, as I am free and self-determined. 
 This consciousness of freedom is the condition of Egoness. 
 (It is thus that that which we are about to deduce 
 obtains universal validity, namely, by our showing, that 
 a rational being is not at all possible without c onscious- 
 ness of this freedom, a nd hence without the conditions of 
 this freedom; and since the consciousness of morality 
 belongs to these conditions, that a rational being is not at 
 all possible without this moral consciousness. Morality 
 is, therefore, not something accidental, nor a foreign in- 
 gredient, but it IS an essential condition of rationality. 
 That this consciousness of freedom and morality may at 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MOLALITY. 145 
 
 times, and, perhaps, to a great extent, be clouded, and 
 man thus sink down to be a mere machine, is certainly 
 possible, and we shall hereafter show the reason for it. 
 All we mean to assert, at present, is that no man can be 
 absolutely without all moral feeling.) 
 
 Since all that occurs in the Ego is explained out of_an 
 impulse, there must be a n impulse to become conscious,.oi' 
 this freedom.. and hence also of the conditions of that 
 consciousness. But the condition of such a consciousness 
 is undeterminedness. Undeterminedne s s is not possibl e 
 if the Kgo solely follows the natural impulse... Hence" 
 there must be an impulse in the Ego to determine itself, hjAt 
 
 without regard7"n aY^iTOrYOTOOsitio^t o the naturaJr * 
 impulse. Hut such an impulse, since we are here speak- 
 ing of the consciousness of freedom, would he craving for f K- fT-^ 
 freedom for the mere sake of fi-ccdnm. j ^ ^.(lip' 
 
 I will call this freedom, to distinguish it from the A ^J( 
 previously described formal freedom, material freedom. . 
 
 Formal freedom arises when a new formal principle, a • •/« 
 ■new power, enters, although the material in the series of *^ 
 
 eiiects does not experience the least change. It is not 
 nature any longer that acts, but the free being. The free 
 being, however, effects precisely the same as nature would 
 have effected. 
 
 Whereas material freedom is distinguished by this, 
 that not only a new power, but also a wholly new series 
 of material acts, enters.^ The intelligence does not merely 
 work, but works out likewise something utterly different 
 from what nature would have worked out. 
 
 It is our next duty to deduce this impulse, to describe 
 it, and to show how it may manifest itself. 
 
 III. 
 
 We have to deduce the impulse. In our forgoing we 
 have proven that unless such an impulse exists self- 
 consciousness is not possible, since the consciousness of 
 
146 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 an undeterminedness, which is the condition of self- 
 consciousness, is not possible. This was an indirect proof 
 of that impulse. But for the sake — not of the certainty 
 of the matter, but of the results which will show them- 
 selves, we must furnish this proof directly, i.e., genetically, 
 or from the conception of the Ego itself. 
 
 I have said that the Ego gets itself altogether under its 
 own control through the absolute free reflection of the 
 Ego on itself, as a natural being. All I need now is to 
 make this proposition clearer, and the direct proof 
 required will be furnished. 
 
 This self-reflection of the Ego, as a primary reflection, 
 is an act absolutely grounded in the Ego. An act, I 
 say, whereas the natural impulse upon whicB^he 
 reflection is directed, and which is certainly held to 
 belong to the Ego, is a passivity in relation to that act ; 
 is a something given, and existing independent of that 
 -^ree i^,(;;t,ivity. 
 
 Now let it be firstly observed, that in order to explain 
 the consciousness of that first reflection as an act, we 
 must posit a new reflection, having for its object the 
 reflecting of the first reflection. Let us consider this 
 second reflection. Since the object of the first reflection 
 — the natural impulse — is abstracted from, this second 
 reflection clearly has for its object only the pure absolute 
 activity of the first reflection, and this activity alone is 
 the real and true Ego, to which the impulse is opposited 
 as something foreign, which, although it is in the Ego, is 
 not the Ego. 
 
 Now these two reflections are not in any way to be 
 thought as separata and distinct reflections, although we 
 had thus to describe- them, merely to make their descrip- 
 tion- possible. They are, on the contrary, one and the 
 same act. The Ego becomes immediately conscious of 
 its absolute activity through inner self -contemplation; 
 without which, indeed, an Ego were completely incompre- 
 hensible. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 147 
 
 For let it be well observed, it is only through the 
 second reflection (it seems I must continue thus to 
 describe them as separates) that the activity, which other- 
 wise would have remained simply the determined activity 
 of reflecting, changes into activity in general, the object 
 thereof having been abstracted from. The distinction 
 between mere i^fql g.p.t.ivit.y^ the reflection of a gimn 
 somewhat, and the real absolute determining of a given 
 somewhat, occurs later. 
 
 To state it more concisely, and thus perhaps clearer, 
 with the reflection enters a new power, which transmits 
 through itself the tendency of nature. This is what we 
 have shown above. At present this new power is to 
 enter for me, I am to become conscious thereof as of a 
 particular and new power. This is only possible, if I 
 think that power as torn loose from the hold of the 
 impulse, i.e., if I assume that it may not follow but can 
 resist the impulse. Now this resisting is, as yet, posited 
 as a mere power to resist; and if it is, as it must be, 
 considered as immanent and essential in the Ego, it is 
 posited as an impulse. Indeed — which throws a flood of 
 light on this proof from another side — it is through this. 
 ^ very impulse of resistance that the influence of nature- 
 upon ^ us remains merely an impulse, since without it, ijL 
 would be actual causality. 
 
 JNow this impulse of the Ego, which merely occurs in 
 the Ego as pure activity, we shall call, therefo re, the fmre 
 impulse ; and leave to the other impulse the name already 
 given — natural impuls e. 
 
 We only need now to consider the relation of these two 
 impulses to each other, in order to see how both manifest 
 themselves, but particularly how the pure impulse, the 
 most important to our present investigation, may manifest 
 itself. 
 
 The natural impulse, as impulse determined in precisely 
 such or suck a manner' is accidentdlJio the Ego, Eegarded 
 from the transcendental point of view, this impulse is the 
 
148 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 result of oiir limitation. True, it is necessary that we are 
 limited at all, since otherwise consciousness would be 
 impossible; but it is accidental, that we are limited in 
 precisely such or such a manner. 
 
 The pure impulse, on the contrary, is essential to th e 
 EsoT smce it is grounded in the Egoness as sudi. Hence 
 the impulse exists ia all rational beings, and hence its 
 results are valid for all rational beings. 
 
 Again, the pure impulse is a higher, superior impulse — 
 an impulse which elevates me in my pure essence abov e 
 nature, and requires of me, as an empirical being m time, 
 to elevate myself above nature. For nature h as causality, 
 and is a power in relation to me; nature produces an 
 impulse within me, which, when directed upon my purely 
 formal freedom, utters itself as an inclination . But 
 according to the higher impulse, this powe r of nat ure has 
 not, and shall not, have control over me; I am to deter- 
 'mme myseit utterly independent of the impulses of 
 nature. 
 
 Through this higher impulse, I am thus not only 
 separated from, but likewise elevated above nature ; I am 
 not only a link in the series of natural, but I C9,n, more- 
 over, self-actively interfere in this series. 
 
 In perceiving the power of nature to lie below me, that 
 power becomes somethiag which I no longer esteem. Por 
 I only esteem that which arouses me to exert all my 
 energy in order merely to counterbalance it; and I do not~ 
 esteem that which does not demand such energy of me. 
 This is the case with nature ; one resolve, and I stand 
 above nature. 
 
 If, on the other hand, I should surrender myself, and 
 become a part of that which I cannot esteem, I also can 
 no longer esteem myself from the higher point of view. 
 Hence, in its relation to the inclination which would drag 
 me down into the series of natural causality, the higher 
 impulse manifests itself as an impulse which claims my 
 esteem, arouses me to esteem myself, and invests me with 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 149 
 
 a dignity superior to all nature. It never has enjoyment 
 for its object, and, on the contrary, despises enjoyment. 
 The higher impulse makes enjoyment, for mere enjoy- 
 ment's sake, contemptible. It has for its object solely the 
 maintenance of my dignity, which consists in absolute 
 self-determinedness and self-sufficiency. 
 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CONCEENING CONSCIENCE. 
 
 In opposition to our usual habit, it becomes almost 
 necessary for us to step out of the systematic connection, 
 in order to furnish a preliminary description of a concep- 
 tion, through which we hope to spread a clearer light over 
 the important but difficult investigation to which we now 
 have to pass over. 
 
 It is a fact that some events are utterly indifferent to 
 us, while others arouse our interest; and it is to be 
 supposed that these expressions are understood by all. 
 That which is indifferent to me has apparently no relation 
 — but since this is impossible, it has only a remote rela- 
 tion — to my impulse. That which interests me, on the 
 contrary, must have an immediate relation to my impulse, 
 and cannot be produced by any arguments. No one can 
 cause you to rejoice or sorrow by the power of his demon- 
 strations. All mediated interest (interest is something as 
 aTmeans to attiiin a certain object) is grounded in an 
 immediate interest. 
 
 What does this signify: something has immediate 
 relation to an impulse ? The impulse itself is only object 
 of feeling ; hence, an immediate relation to it could also 
 "only be felt^. An interest in something is of an immediate 
 character, signifies therefore : its harmony or disharmony 
 with the impulse is felt in advance of all reasoning, and 
 independent of all reasoning. 
 
 But I feel only myself; and, hence, this harmony or 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 151 
 
 disharmony must be in myself, or must be simply a 
 harmony or disharmony of myself with myself. 
 
 Let us look at the matter from another side. All 
 interest i s mediated through the interest I have in 
 myself, and it is only a modification of this self-interest . 
 Whatsoever interests me relates itself to me ; I enjoy in 
 all enjoyment, I suffer in all suffering. Whence arises 
 this interest in myself ? Simply from an impulse , since 
 all interest arises from an impulse, and \t arises in this 
 manner: my fundamental impulse, as a pure and em- 
 pirical being who haye become one, out of these two very 
 different components of myself, only through means of 
 that impulse, is an impulse craving harmony between my 
 original Ego, as determined in the mere idea, and my 
 actual empirical Ego. Now this original impulse — namely 
 the pure and the natural impulse in their union — is a 
 determined impulse, that is to say, is directed upon some- 
 thing in an immediate manner. Now, whenever my 
 actual condition agrees with this direction or requirement 
 of the original impulse, enjoyment arises ; and whenever 
 my actual condition contradicts that requirement, dis- 
 satisfaction ensues; and both enjoyment or satisfaction, 
 and suffering or dissatisfaction, are nothing but the 
 immediate sensation of harmony or disharmony of my 
 actual condition, with the condition required by the 
 original impulse. 
 
 The lower faculty of desire arises from an impulse,^ 
 which, in truth, is nothing but the organizing impulse of 
 our nature. This impulse directs itself to the self- 
 determined being, which is necessitated to unite that 
 impulse with itself synthetically, or to posit itself as 
 bein g imyelled. The impulsg manifests itself through a 
 yearnmg. Where lies this parning ? Not in nature, 
 but in the subject of consciousness, for it has been 
 reflecteH! Yearning has for its object liothing that is not 
 involved in the natural impulse; namely, a material 
 relation of the external world to my body. Now, posit 
 
 \ 
 
JeV^y^^/t^e-^'^d'*-*' 
 
 / r) 
 
 152 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 that this yearning is satisfied, we will leave undecided 
 whether by accident or through free activity. Doubtless, 
 this satisfaction is perceived. Now, why do we not con- 
 tent ourself with the cold judgment of cognition, which 
 we should apply to a plant, and say, "Our body grows 
 and prospers"; why do we, moreover, say, "We experience 
 enjo yment "? 
 
 J? or mis reason, my fundamental impulse has such a 
 judgment for its immediate object, and hence its results. 
 'THHT^FEich satisfies this impulse, and causes the enjoy- 
 ment, is the harmony of the actuality with its require- 
 ments. 
 
 But it is quite difyerent .so far as the pure imp ulse js 
 concerned. This is an impulse to be active for the sake 
 of being active, and which arises through the Ego con- 
 templating internally its absolute power. Here, there- 
 fore, there does not occur a mere feeling of the impulse, 
 but .a contemplation. The pure impulse does not occur 
 as an affection ; the Ego is not bein^ impelled, but it impels 
 _itself, a nd contemplates itself m thus impelling itself. 
 The pure impulse craves to find the acting^ Ego self- 
 sufficient and determined through itself. It is. a pt proper 
 to say that this impulse is a yearning— ]ike the lower 
 one — for it is not directed upon anything which is 
 expected as a favour from nature, or which does not 
 depend upon ourselves. This pure impulse is rather an 
 _absolut^ ^^jjT^c^^j^^. It manifests itself in consciousness 
 with all the^mqre vigour — so to use this expression — as 
 it is grounded not upon a mere feeling, but upon a con- 
 templation. 
 
 Cause the Ego to act. It determines itself, of course, 
 through itself, independently of the natural impulse, or 
 of the requirement of the higher impulse, since it is 
 formaliter free. Now there will either result a deter- 
 mination such as the higher impulse required, in which 
 case both the subject of the impulse and the actually 
 active are in harmony, and a feeling of approval results ; 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 153 
 
 or the reverse results, and a feeling of disapproval will 
 arise, combined with contempt. 
 
 But feeling arises only as the result of a. determined- 
 n ess or limitation. But in the present case there is 
 nothing but activity, in the requirement as well as in the 
 fulfilling of the same. How then, may a feeling result ? 
 Through th e harmony of both, which is not an act, but a 
 determined condition, resulting, as it does, without our 
 active co-operation, and which, therefore, is felt. Thus it 
 is, moreover, clear that we must not be understood as if 
 we asserted the feeling of a contemplation, which would 
 be contradictory. It is th e harmony of the contemnla- 
 Jion with the requirement"oitn^mpulse, which i s felt. 
 
 (This is an important remark; since it explams^e 
 possibility of sesthetical feeling, which is also the feeling 
 of a contemplation, and lies between the two feelings 
 here described.) 
 
 Now can this approval, or disapproval, be cold — a mere 
 m^gajent of cognition — or must it necessarily be con- 
 nected with a fop.lincf nf inf.prpst? Evidently the latter; 
 I for that requirement of absolute self -activity^ and of the 
 harmony of the empirical Ego with this reguireinent^ is 
 I itself tke original imyulse . Now if the latter harmonizes 
 with the former, an impulse is being satisfied; and if it 
 does not harmonize with it, an impulse remains un- 
 I satisfied ; hence that approval is necessarily associated 
 with satisfaction, and that disapproval w ith diss atisfac - 
 tion^ it cannot be indifierent to us. whether we must 
 despise ourselves or_not. There is, however, ia this kmd 
 "of satisfaction nothiag which has the character of 
 ordinary enjoyment. For the harmony of actuality with 
 the natural impulse does_not _ dgpend upon m yself, iJT'so 
 far as"T"am self, i.e., free. Hence the en] oy men?" whic h 
 arises from it is of a~EInd which tears me away trom 
 myself, estranges me from myselfj and "wherein I forget 
 myself."^^*'y^n involiLntarii enjoymen t (which is, 
 perhaps, the best characteristic for all sensuous enjoy- 
 
154 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 ment). In the same manner it is with the opposite — 
 sensuous pain. 
 
 In relation to the pure impulse, however, this satisfac- 
 tion, and the grouncTomn^atisiaetion, is not something 
 foreign, but somethiag which depends upon my freedom, 
 something which I had cause to expect in accordance 
 with a rule. Hence it does not conduct me out of 
 myself, but rather back into myself. It is not so jnuch 
 enjoyment as sat\ i sffi.r-f.'><^ii. ^ wh ic h never i s the characterist ic 
 of sensuous enjoyment . It is not so turbulent, but more 
 intense, ana infuses new courage and new strength. Hence 
 also the opposite of this satisfaction — precisely because 
 it was dependent upon our freedom — produces disgust 
 sel f-reproach — which latter never accompanies sensuous 
 pam, as such — a.n d sp.1 f -con tem p t. 
 
 This feeling of self-contempt would be absolutely un- 
 bearable, if it were not that the requirement of the 
 moral law, continuing to be addressed to us, again would 
 raise us in our own esteem; if it were not that this 
 unceasing requirement of conscience, which arises out of 
 our own self, infuses again courage and esteem in us, and 
 if it were not that this self-contempt were lessened by 
 the feeling that we are still capable of entertaiaing 
 self -contempt. 
 
 Jhis described feeljag, which might weU be called 
 Jvi^lier feeling, i s usually named conscience. There is rest 
 I or unrest of consci ence , reproaches of Conscie nce, ani 
 1 pecLce of conscience ; put tnere is no such tmng as 
 
 ' ment of conscience. The ter m conscience i s admirably 
 chosen. It is, as it were, the immediate conscuyiisness 
 of that, without which no consciousness wBatever wer e 
 possible ; the im med iate consciousness of our higher 
 nature and aDsolute ireedom. ' 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 FUNDAMENTAL PEINCIPLE OF AN APPLICABLE SCIENCE OF 
 
 MORALS. 
 
 A. The natural, impulse is directed upon a material 
 somewhat, simply for the sake of that material, upon 
 enjoyment simply for the sake of enjoyme nt ; whereas, the 
 "pure unpidse craves absolute indepenaence of the active, 
 as such, from that natural impulse, or craves freedom 
 simply for the sake of freedom . If the pure impulse has, 
 nevertheless, causality, it cannot as yet be conceived 
 otherwise than a mere negative causality, preventing the 
 accomplishment of what the natural impulse craves ; and 
 hence, as resulting merely in a haviing undone, but not 
 in any positive doiTig, except the internal act of self- 
 determining. 
 
 AU writers, who have treated the science of morality 
 in simply a formaliter way, ought to have arrived at 
 nothing but a continual self-denial — utter abnegation and 
 vanishing of self, as those mystics hold, who teach 
 that we ought to dissolve our self into God, which 
 proposition has; indeed, for its basis something true and 
 sublime, as will appear hereafter. But if we look closer 
 at the requirement just now established, with a view 
 to determine it, we shall find that it will vanish under our 
 very hands into a nothing. 
 
 The higher impulse, which addresses itself to the 
 subject of consciousness, requires that I shall be able 
 
 to posit myself as free, in a reflection. Hence I am, indeed, 
 
 • ■— ,j5 i. 
 
156 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 to ^os,it my freedom, as a positive somewhat, as the ground 
 of an actual doing, and not of a mere leaving undone. 
 I, the reflecting, am, therefore, to relate a certain deter- 
 mination of the will to myself as the determining, and to 
 be forced to attribute this will solely to my self-deter- 
 mination. Hence, the willing, which. is to be related, is to 
 be somethiQg objective, perceptible, in us. But everything 
 objective belongs to • us solely as sensuous and natural 
 beings ; in fact, through this mere objectivating, we are 
 ourselves posited for oiirselves in this objective sphere. 
 
 Let me state this proposition, well known in its 
 generality, and elsewhere abundantly proven, in its special 
 relation to the present case : All actual willing is 
 necessarily directed upon an acting, but all my acting 
 is an acting directed upon objects. Now, in the world 
 of objects, I always act by means of natural force, and 
 this force is given to me solely through the natural 
 impulse, nay, is nothiiig but this impulse as it exists 
 in me ; or, in other words, is simply nature's own causality 
 directed upon nature itself, but which is no longer within 
 nature's own control, as a dead and unconscious nature, 
 having passed under my control, as an intelligence, through 
 means of my free reflection. Hence, even the most 
 immediate object of all possible willing is necessarily 
 something empirical, is a certain determination of my 
 sensuous power, given to me through my natural impulse, 
 and thus something required by that natural impulse, 
 since this impulse only gives by requiring. Each possible 
 conception of an end tends, therefore, to satisfy a natural 
 impulse. In short, all actual williag is empirical. A 
 pure will is no actual will, but a mere idea, a some- 
 thing absolute from out of tM intelligible world, 
 which we thiak of as the explanatory ground of some- 
 thing empirical. 
 
 It is scarcely to be a;pprehended, after all we have said 
 previously, that anyone should understand us as asserting 
 that the natural impulse, as such, produces the willing. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 157 
 
 It is I w ho win, and Tint n ature that wills within me; 
 ■nevertheless, so far as the s ubstance of vxj wil l is con- 
 cerned, lean only will that which i;^,t,i:(re would also wjll, ! 
 had she the power to wlU. 1 
 
 Thus, not, the im.invl&p. tn \^'^;^i^^\^x^^^^r^m^^^A^^^^^A^r^ 
 but, at least, the causality of that impulseseem^itt erly" 
 cancelled. In truth , only Yrirma/ freedom remains to me . 
 Although I am impelled ^ ' "do something, which might 
 have its material ground solely in myself. I. nevertheless, 
 
 do never and can never do anything, which the natura. 
 
 impulse does not require, since all my possible acting " 
 is exiiausted "through that impulse. 
 
 But the ^ausaUty of my pure impulse must never be 
 cancelled , smce i posit myself as Ego only in so fa r 
 as I posit such causality. 
 
 We are involved in a contradiction which is all the 
 more remarkable since what both of the propositions, just 
 now mentioned, establish as this contradiction, is also 
 established as a condition of self- consciousness. 
 
 How is this contradiction to be solved ? According 
 to the laws of synthes is, only in the following manner : 
 the materia,! r^f the act" must be at the same time, and 
 in one and the same acting, conformable to the pur e 
 impulse, and to the natural impulse. As both are united 
 in the original impulse, so must they be united in the 
 actuality of acting. 
 
 This can only be comprehended as follows. The pur- 
 pose, the conception which directs the act, has for its 
 object complet e liberation from nature ; but that the act 
 is, and remains nevertheless conformable to the natural 
 impulse^ is the result, not of our freely produced con- 
 ception, but of our limitedness. The only determining 
 ground of the matter of our acts is to relieve ourselves 
 of our dependence from nature, although the required 
 independence never results. The pure impulse crave s 
 for absolute independence, and the act is in conformity 
 with that impulse if it also is directed upon such inde- 
 
158 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 pendence, that is to say, if it lies in a series, the completion 
 whereof would result in the absolute independence of the Hgo. 
 Now, according to the proof just established , the Ego can 
 never become independent, so long as it is to be Ego ; and 
 hence the final end of rational beings lies necessarily in 
 iT]finit,nrlp^ and i s an end which can never De reali^ecr 
 completely, but to which the Ego can incessantly draw 
 nearer by virtue of its spiritual nature. 
 
 I must here take cognizance of an objection which I 
 would not have considered possible had it not been raised 
 by men of good minds, and who are even well initiated 
 in transcendental philosophy.. How is it possible, sav 
 they, to draw nearer to an infinite end? does not all 
 finite size vanish into nothingness when related to 
 infinity ? ' This question sounds as if I were speaking 
 of infinitude as a thing in itself. ^J draw nearer; for 
 myself . But I never can grasp infinitude, and hence 
 "have always a determined end before my eyes, to which 
 I doubtless can draw nearer, although, after having 
 attained it, I may have removed my true end just as 
 far, partly through the greater perfection my whole being 
 has acquired, and partly through the greater perfection 
 of my insight ; and although I may thus be as much 
 removed as ever, in this general sense, from the infinite, 
 and may never get nearer to it, my end hes in infinitude 
 because my dependence is an infinite dependence. This 
 dependence I never seize, however, in its infinite character, 
 but only in its determined sphere, and in this determined 
 sphere I doubtless can make myself more and miore 
 independent. 
 
 There must be such a series, in the continuating 
 whereof the Ego can think itself as drawing nearer to 
 absolute independence, for only on this condition is a 
 causality of the pure impulse possible. This series is 
 necessarily determined from the first point, upon which 
 nature has placed a person, into infinity (of course only 
 ideally), and hence in each possible case it is determined 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 159 
 
 what the pure impulse may require under such conditions. 
 Hence we can call this series the moral determinedness 
 of the finite rational being. Now, although this series 
 is as yet unknown to us, we have clearly shown that it 
 must necessarily occur. "We are, therefore, safe in basing 
 on this result, and may establish, as the fundamental 
 principle of the science of morality, the foUowmg 
 proposition : Do at each time, what mm, art determin ed 
 to do. o r fulfil always thy dp.Mm.nt.in'n although the 
 question. What aw. I determined to do . or what is my 
 d^Rtinatinn. 2 ih i^r> t answere d. If this proposition is 
 expressed : Fulfil thy destination is general, it involves 
 at once the infinity of the end established for us, since 
 that end can be fulfilled in no time. ( The error nf the \J\^, 1 
 mystics is based on their representing this ii-^fim'tp^ and '^ 
 m no time completely attainable end, as an end attain - 
 able in time.. The utter annihilation of the individual. 
 and submersion of the same in the absolute and pure 
 form of reason, or in God, is most certainly the final end 
 of finite reason, but it is also not possible in any time.) 
 
 The possibility to fulfil at each time, singly, one's 
 destination, is certainly grounded through nature herself, 
 and given in nature. The relation of the natural impulse 
 to the principle here established is as follows : at each 
 moment something is conformable to our moral destination, 
 and this same something is also required at the same 
 time by the natural impulse (provided nature is left to 
 herself, and has not been made artificial through a 
 corrupt imagination). But it by no means follows that 
 all that which the natural impulse requires should also 
 be conformable to our moral determinedness. For 
 instance, let the series of the natural impulse , con- 
 sidered by itself, be A. B, C. e tc. Now the moral 
 determinedness of the individual may, perhaps, take and 
 realize only a part of B/ where by the natural impul se 
 resuitmg from a will certainlv be altered : but even in 
 this, its altered form, the moral determinedness of the 
 
t6o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 .individual may take and realize only a part of it; and 
 so on ad infinitum. But in each possible determinedness 
 both impulses partly join. It is only thus that morality 
 is possible in actual acting. 
 
 It is possible to explain still more clearly the mutual 
 relation of both impulses. Th e higher impulse m anifests 
 •itself as the just now describe d moral, and on no account 
 as a pure imnulse: it does not manifest itself as an 
 impulse which craves absolute independence, but as an 
 impulse craving determined acts, which acts, however — 
 if the impulse craving them is brought to consciousness 
 and they are examined closer — will show themselves to lie 
 in that series of absolute independence of the Ego. For 
 it has already been shown, that the impulse, as a pure 
 impulse, as one directed merely upon a negation, can 
 never enter consciousness. We never become conscious 
 of a negation, simply becaiise it is nothing. Experience, 
 moreover, proves this ; we feel Jmpellfid, to do this or 
 that, and reproach ourselves for having left undone this 
 or that. All this we state here to correct those who 
 deny consciousness of the categorical imperative (of . the 
 moral impulse), and do not admit a pure impulse. We 
 show here that a thorough transcendental philosophy 
 also does not assert such a consciousnfess. The jjure 
 impulse is beyond all consciousness, and isjjip.rply |,h pi 
 transcendental expla,natory ground of someSing in con- 
 scio usness. 
 
 The moral impulse is a mixed impuls e, as we have 
 shown. Erom the natural impulse it receives the material, 
 or its object_; in other wordgrTRe natural impulse is 
 directed upon the same act, which it craves, at least in 
 part. But its form it has solely from the pure impulse. 
 It is absolute, like the pure impulse, and demands, with- 
 out any external end, simply because it does. It has 
 absolutely no enjoyinent of any kind for its object. In 
 short, what it craves is absolute independence. But has 
 this independence then no end again, no enjoyment, or 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. i6r 
 
 something of the kind, for its final object? No; ab- 
 solutely no such end. That absolute independence is 
 simply its own end. I am to crave it simply because I 
 am to crave it; simply because I am I. The internal 
 satisfaction, which accompanies its attainment, is some- 
 thing accidental. The impulse does not arise from it, but 
 it arises from the impulse. 
 
 Th e moral impulse appeals to esteem: and obedience, or 
 disobedience to it, excites approval or disapproval, self- 
 satisfaction, or most painful self-contempt. The impulse 
 is 'positive; it impels to a determined activity. It is 
 general; and relates itself to all possible free acts, to 
 each manifestation of the natural impulse, which is 
 brought to consciousness. It is self-suffijcient, always pro- 
 posing to itself its own aim ; it craves absolute causality, 
 and stands in reciprocity with the natural impulse, borrow- 
 ing from it its matter, and giving it its form. Finally, it 
 commands categorically. What this impulse requires is 
 imperatively required, and as a necessity. 
 
 B. The moral impulse demands freedom for the sake 
 -of freedom . Who does not perceive that the word 
 freedom is used here in two different meanings ? In 
 " the latter instance it is used to designate an ol^ective 
 condition to be produced , or the final absolute end. 
 namely, complete independence from all externality; 
 whereas, in the first instance, it signifies an acting as 
 such, and not any real being, signifies, in short, some- 
 thing pi^dysuhjectiva I am to act free in order to 
 become free._ 
 
 But even in the conception of freedom as it occurs in 
 the first instance, a distinction is to be observed. When 
 a free act occurs, we may ask (i^ fTfion it nmfjt be done 
 in order t,n he. a. frse a.o,f, . and (2^ what must be done to 
 constitute it a free act. In short, we may inquire after 
 both the form and the cnntent of freedom. 
 
 Now the content we have already investigated, and 
 
(62 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 have found that the act must be one of a series, through 
 the infinite continuation whereof the Ego will become 
 absolutely independentr'We'Eave" now, therefof&i'tolook 
 finally at the form. 
 
 I am to act free, that is to say, I as posited Ego, as 
 iiiteiligence, am tcT determine myself, or am to act with 
 consciousness of my absolute self-determining character ; 
 with considerateness and reflection. Only thus do I act 
 free as intelligence ; an d otherwise I act Mindly, a s chance 
 impels ine. 
 
 I, as intelligence, am to act in a determined manner ; 
 that is to say, I am to become conscious of the ground, 
 why I act precisely in this manner. Now this ground 
 cannot, because it must not, He another ground, because 
 this precise act lies within the described series^or 
 since this is a philosophical view and not the view of 
 common P.onRp.innsTiF'RH — l^pp.a.iiRP t.bis act is duty. I am 
 to act solely conformably to the conception of my duty , 
 am t o determine.mysel f sn1p.1v t-,hrnn|yT^ t. he thought tHat 
 this act is my duty^ and through no other thought or 
 i motive ' 
 
 A few words concerning the last remark. Even the moral 
 impulse is Hot to determine me as mere blind impulse; 
 indeed, the very thing is contradictory, and morality can 
 never merely impel. We touch here again what we have 
 already said : when it appeared that the impulse, to be 
 self-active, addresses itself to the intelligence as such.; 
 the intelligence is to be self-determined as intelligence; 
 but an intelUgence, as such, is only self-determined when 
 it determines itself through conception, and absolutely 
 not through mere impulse. The impulse, therefore, both 
 craves and does not crave causality, and has causality 
 simply through not having it, since it demands of the 
 intelligence : _ he free ! If the impulse is mere impulse 
 it is not moral, but altogether natural impuls e, for it 
 is altogether immoral to be blindly impelled. This is, 
 for instance, the case with the impulses of sympathy. 
 
THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALITY. 163 
 
 humanity, &c . It will appear, in the proper place, that 1 1 ^ 
 • ^hese impulses are m aaiifest^^^j^ jjyi nf thp. moral impulse. J i ' 
 "hut mixed with tlie "a.tnra.1 iTnpTiJRR a.H inrlPA d the mora l 11 | 
 Hnpi|1sp. is always TmivpH Now, the man who follows '» 
 these impulses may act very charitably, humanely, &c., but 
 he does not act morally, on the contrary, jw so far as he 
 Uindl.'^i fnllnwa tbpsjQ irnpulses, he acts immorall y. 
 
 Here, therefore, arises for t he first time the cateyorical 
 imperative, as being a concevtion and not an impulse. It 
 is not the impulse which is itself the categorical impera- 
 tive, but the impulse drives us t o form such an im p erative; 
 impels us to say that sometmng snail be done , it is our 
 own product; our product in so far as we are intelligences, 
 or beings capable of producing conceptions. 
 
 Thus then, the rational beiag, in determiuing its will, 
 is, in form, torn loose from ail which is not itself . Matter 
 does not determiiie the rational being, nor does the rational 
 being determine itself through the mediation of anything 
 material, but solely through the formal, and, in itself, 
 generated conception of an absolute imperative. And, in 
 this manner, we indeed receive back again the rational 
 being in its actuality, precisely as we originally posited it: 
 namely, as the absolutely self-determined; as, indeed, 
 everything that is original must represent itself in 
 actuality, only with further additions and determinations. 
 It is only in the act impelled by duty that we find such a 
 representative of the rational being, for all other acts 
 have a determining ground which is foreign to the 
 intelligence as such. Hence, Kant also says that it is 
 only through the power of morality that the rational 
 being manifests itself as something in itself, namely, as 
 something independent, self-sufficient, existing through no 
 reciprocity with anything external, but simply existing 
 for itself. Hence also, the inexpressibly sublime character 
 of duty, since all that is external sinks down so low under 
 us, and vanishes into nothingness, when compared with 
 our destination. 
 
i64 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 From th e. form of morality ^ follow these two results : 
 
 1. I am to act, in fieneral, with considerateness and 
 consciousness, n ot blindly and in obedience" to mere im- 
 pnlses, anH nm. ^nff.o'ridri.r^ yfifh fhf. conscjousness of dutv : 
 I am never to act without first having related mv act t o 
 
 _this conception. Hence, there are no indifferent acts at 
 ail. The moral law relates to all acts — if not materiatiter, 
 at least surely formaliter — which are truly acts of the 
 intelligent being. Formaliter: for we are to inquir e 
 whether the moral law relates to them or not, and this 
 vfery inquiry establishes already a relation. But even 
 materialiter the relation can be proven: fo r I am never to 
 obey the sensuous impulse as such, but all my acts are 
 result of that impulse; hence I must relate each act to 
 the moral law, or I cannot act at all. 
 
 2 . I am never to act against my conviction . To do so is 
 completest perversity and wickedness. How it happens 
 that such a perversity, which in itself seems impossible, 
 is nevertheless possible, and that it loses, at least, that 
 horrible character which it has for every uncorrupted man 
 in its true appearance, we shall show hereafter. 
 
 Both these results gathered into one might be expressed; 
 Act always in accordance with your best conviction of vo ur 
 
 duty ; or, act according to your annxriemrA 'I'hiH ia t.hp 
 
 _formal condition of the morality of our acts, which, for 
 ' that reason, has been pre-eminently called : the morality 
 of those acts. We shall discuss these formal conditions 
 bf morality iii the first chapter of our Applied Science of 
 Morals, and establish in the second the materi al co nditions 
 of the morality of our acts. 
 
__ PART II. 
 
 SYSTEMATIC APPLICATION OF THE 
 PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY 
 
BOOK THIRD. 
 
 CONCERNING THE FORMAL CONDITIONS OF THE 
 
 m 
 
 MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 
 
 Peeliminary. 
 
 concerning the will in particular. 
 
 I MIGHT begin immediately with a synthetic, systematic 
 deduction of the formal conditions of the morality of our 
 acts. But since this formal morality, indeed, what is 
 pre-eminently termed morality, is also called good will, 
 and as I myself intend thus to characterize it, it behoves 
 me to first give an account of my conception of the will. 
 
 True, all that which belongs to this investigation has 
 been already said under other names, and yet, for that 
 very reason, it is necessary to say it also under the present 
 name, in order to connect what will follow with what has 
 been previously established. 
 
 A willing, is an absolutel y free transition from undeter- 
 minedness to determinedness. with consciousness of this 
 t ransition.^ This act has been abundantly described before, 
 in tiie examination of this willing we may draw a 
 distinction between the Ego which proceeds from jin - 
 determinedness to determinedness. and which is called 
 The objective Ego, an d the . Ego which contemplates itself 
 ln"^Sswansitioii^ and which is called the subiective Jjjgo. 
 Buty in willing itself, both are united. The impulse , the 
 yearnin g, the desire, is n gmi^will. The impulse , to 
 be sure, is accompanied ^^f^nclmation, and "the desire, 
 moreover, by consciousness of the object of this inclination; 
 
 167 
 
1 68 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 but neither is accompanied by a determinedness of the 
 Ego? Desire would well like its object to come to it, but 
 cannot itself move hand or foot to reach it. It is only 
 through willing that determinedness results. 
 
 If we look at the general yower of making that transition 
 consciously , and the laws of theoretical reason force us 
 to addsoSa. a power in thinking to the act of transition, 
 we shall arrive at the conception of willing in general, as 
 a power to will. This is an abstract conception, nothing 
 actually perceptible, not a fact. An actually perceptible 
 transition gives a willing. But a wilUng is not complete d, 
 and is indeed, no wilhng. unless it is determined. But 
 when it is determined it is no lono-er called willing, but 
 a will; as, for instance, my will , your will, this will, etc. 
 In common life, this distinction between this general con- 
 ception of willing, as a power to will, and a will, as a 
 de termined expression of this general power, is never 
 made, because it is not necessary to make it in ordinary 
 life; but in philosophy, where it is very necessary to 
 make this distinction, it has also never been made. 
 
 The will is free in the material significance, of the word. 
 The Eg o, in so far as it wiUs, proposes to itself as intelli- 
 gence tne object of its willing, by choosing from many 
 possible objects one particular object, and by changing the 
 undeternunedness, which the inteUigence contemplates 
 and comprehends, into a likewise contemplated and com- 
 prehended determinedness. 
 
 The fact that the object may be given through the 
 natural impulse does not contradict this result. For 
 the natural impulse only gives it as an object of yearn- 
 ing or desire, but not as an object of the will or of the 
 determined resolve to realize it. In this respect the will 
 absolutely gives itself its own object. In short, the will 
 is absolutely free, and an unfree wUl is an absurdity. If 
 man wills, he is free, and if he is not free, he does not 
 will, but is impelled. Nature produces no will, nay, 
 strictly speaking, nature cannot even produce a yearniag. 
 
^ 
 
 THE MORALITY pF OUR ACTIONS. 169 
 
 as we have seen before, since yearning presupp oses a 
 jeflection. It is true that in this retlec'tion the Ego does 
 not yet beeome conscious of itself as of a reflecting, and 
 hence assumes that the yearning within it is a product 
 of nature, although external observers, and we ourselves; 
 from the transcendental point of view, know the opposite 
 to be the case. 
 
 Now if the will proceeds from undeterminedness to 
 determinedness — and it has been strictly proven that 
 this is a condition of the consciousness of freedom, and 
 hence of the Ego itself, as such, whereby it has at the 
 same time been proven that there is a will, and that the 
 wiU is determined as above described — then the will 
 must be a power to choose. In other words, flo wifl A -^ 
 
 \K7^ \\\f\\^. n vhii inTt *• nw a 00 U'r\-n +-1^ a xir^ 11 -iw nnMnA n ■e.l-ii •J-v.o -hit ' ^ 
 
 without a rbitrarine ss. For the, will is called arbitrary 
 
 when the characteristic of the will is insisted on, that it y i C 
 
 must choose from several equally possible acts. 
 
 Ebmaek. 
 
 Some philoso phers have discovered a contradictio n in 
 the assertion tiiat it is equally possible for freedom t o 
 seize opposite resolves, -either A or - A ; and other philo- 
 sophers have been puzzled to refute this assertion of a 
 contradiction. Let us see at once what the former pre- 
 supposed, without the latter perceiving it. 
 
 Let us posit a natural force = X. Since it is a natural 
 force, it necessarily works mechanicall y, i.e., produces at 
 all times only that which it can produce conformably to . 
 its nature under such condition. If the production of 
 such a force is = A, then it i s necessarily = A, and it were 
 contradictory to assume it to be some - A. " * 
 
 Now is this law applicable to the will ? Let me first 
 state again what I have already insisted on, and which 
 is the most important: as soon as the will, or the Ego 
 generally, enters on the stage, natural force is utterly at 
 an end. What force can these produce? neither A nm- -A; 
 and can produce, in fact, nothing at all; for the final 
 
I70 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 product of that force is an impulse, and an impulse has 
 no causality . Hence it is not for nature, but for the 
 absolute opposite to nature, namely, for the will, that 
 both A and - A is asserted to be equally possible. For if 
 it is asserted that the will is free , then the will is thereby 
 asserted to be the primary or the commencing link of a 
 series , and hence to be not determined by any previous 
 or o^er link, but simply through itself. But it is also 
 
 t asserted that the will does not work in a mechanica l 
 manner, i.e., does not eifect all that it caw effect, but does 
 rather consist in a power to work or not to work, and 
 hence is able to limit itself t hrough itself to any particular 
 work, in such a manner that if its total sphere embraces 
 both A and -A, it may determine to effect either the 
 former or the latter without any external grounds. 
 
 Now those who hold that it is a contradiction to assert 
 the will to be able to work out either A or - A, ought to 
 accept this presupposition. But, instead of doing so, 
 they presuppose that which we deny to them, namely, 
 that the will is a link of the chain of natural forces. 
 They assert the will to be itself a natural force, and with 
 this presupposition, of course, their results are correct 
 enough. They prove, therefore, that the will is not free 
 from the presupposition that the will is not free; and 
 hence, to speak properly, they ought not to say "the 
 proposition that the will is free contradicts itself," but 
 rather "it contradicts onr assertion that the will is not 
 free," in which form their statement may well be allowed 
 to pass. 
 
 But the true contradiction lies much higher than they 
 believe. It is a contradiction to their whole individual 
 power of thinking, to conceive another series than the 
 series of natural mechanism. They have never elevated 
 themselves to the higher manifestations of thinkirig, and 
 hence their absolute presupposition which they, indi- 
 vidually, cannot surmount. Their absolute principle is: 
 " everything happens mechanically," for in their clear 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 171 
 
 consciousness nothing but what is merely mechanical 
 occurs. It is thus with all fatalism : nor is the matter 
 changed by placing the ground of our moral resolves in 
 the spiritual world. In the latter case, the ground of 
 our will determinations is asserted to be lq something 
 spiritual, but which determines us precisely in the same 
 manner as a physical power, and the e,ffect whereof are 
 our will determinations. But how can a ground of 
 distinction be applied between such effects and physical 
 effects, when the category of causality is applied also to 
 the spiritual world, since all to which that category 
 applies is, according to Kant sensuous world ? (By the 
 statement that our will determinations are the effect of 
 an influence from the spiritual world (or God), we only 
 drag down that world to the level of the sensuous world.) 
 This necessary choice of the will is, moreover, deter- 
 mined as being a. cbrnVe between the satisfaction of the 
 Egotistic (natural) impulse, and of the unselfish ( ^ mora TI 
 jmgTJsa^ Let us now examine this further determination. 
 Freedom is not merely m aterial, but likewise formal. 
 according to a distinction deduced above ; and I may well 
 become conscious — not originally, but after self-conscious- 
 ness has been developed, and experience been gathered — 
 not only of the former but also of the latter. If I 
 become conscious merely of formal freedom , I thereby, 
 as intelligence, attain first and foremost the power to 
 ^postpone the satisfaction of the natural impulse : and 
 since the natural impulse will, during this postponement, 
 continue to manifest itself in a manifold manner, the 
 power I attain is one to reflect upon the natural impulse 
 iQ the manifold bearings of its manifestations, and to 
 choose, among the mamf possible ways of satisfyinp it. I 
 choose one of them; and in doing so act with full 
 freedom, since I choose with the consciousness of self^ 
 detennination ; but I do not sacrifice, in such case, 
 enjoyment to morality; I only sacrifice one enjoyment 
 to another enjoyment. 
 
J72 THE SCIENCE OE ETHICS.. 
 
 " Nevertheless," it might he ohjected, " vn so doing you 
 only cede to the strongest impulse, and foolishly imagine 
 yourself free when you only follow one impulse amongst 
 many." Now even if this objection were true in general, 
 I should reply: "This stronger impulse would not be, 
 would not have entered my consciousness, had I not 
 checked myself, postponed my resolve, and reflected with 
 freedom on the totahty of my impulse. Hence even if 
 the objection were true, I would still have determined my 
 wUl through self-determination, and thus my will would 
 remain materialiter free." But that objection is not true 
 in general. When a certain amount of experience had 
 already been acqtdred by me, I can, through imagination, 
 represent an enjoyment which my nature does not crave 
 at present, and can now choose to sacrifice all the present 
 cravings of my nature to this artificial one. Formerly 
 that craving did certainly exist in my nature, and resulted 
 in an actual enjoyment. This enjoyment I now endeavour 
 to reproduce through imagination. Hence mere imagiaa- 
 tion impels me to choose, and the products of imagination 
 are surely products of freedom. I must certainly, there- 
 fore, give to myself in these cases the objects of my wiU. 
 Of course I do not sacrifice my present impulses to 
 virtue, I only sacrifice the real enjoyment, which would 
 result from satisfying my actual impulses, to an imaginary 
 enjoyment. (This is the usual procedure of merely refined 
 men, of men who are on the way to culture. Thus the 
 worn-out voluptuary, the miser, the coxcomb, &c., sacrifice 
 their true physical enjoyments to merely imaginary ones.) 
 
 Indeed, only in this manner ia ja^-itdence possible, which 
 is nothing inore than a discreet choice from amongst 
 various means of satisfymg the natural impulse. Accord- 
 ing to the above conception of will, rigorously applied, 
 prudence were not at all possible, but the opposition 
 would only be between morality and immorality. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 CONCERNING THE FORMAL CONDITIONS OF THE MORALITY 
 
 OF OUE ACTIONS. 
 
 A. As we have seen, the formal law of m orals is as 
 
 ■ "J 
 
 follows : Act absolutely in conformity with your con- 
 viction of your duty . We may look either ai tne tprm 
 or the content of this law-, or, which may here be a 
 clearer expression, at the condition and the conditioned. 
 So far as the former is concerned, it involves, as we 
 have seen: At all times trv to convince yourself a s -fv^ti*, 
 to what vour duty is.: in regard to the latter, it in- 
 volves : Whatsoever you are convinced is your duty, do . f^i^^^^'f' 
 and do it solely because you are convinced i t is your 
 duty. 
 
 But how ? somebody might object. How if my convic - 
 tion is a wrong one? In that case I have not done my 
 duty, but have acted in violation of it. How can I be 
 calm in this ? Evidently only in so far as I consider it 
 impossible that my conviction might be a wrong one, nay, 
 impossible that I shall ever, in an infinite existence, hold 
 it to have been a wrong one. Hence I do not apply 
 my act merely to the conception of my present convic- 
 tion but I again apply this conviction to the conceptio n 
 of all my possible conviction— to the whole system of my 
 co nviciion, i n so far as I can represent it to myself in the 
 'present moment. Such a comparison and examination is 
 a duty, since I am to convmce myself. If it is not a 
 ""matter" of indifference to me, but ' rather the highest 
 
174 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 subject of my life, whether I act in conformity to duty 
 
 I or not, then it can also not be a matter of indifference to 
 
 1 me, whether my conviction is true or erroneous. Hence, 
 
 * the correctness of my conviction in any particular case is 
 
 guaranteed by its agreeing with all thinkable conviction . 
 
 and the invest igation, whether this harmony exists or not , 
 
 is itself a duty. 
 
 But the whole system of my conviction cannot be 
 given to me in any other manner than through my 
 present conviction of it. As I may err in judging any 
 particular case, so may I also er r in judging my judg- 
 ment in general, or ia my conviction of the total ity of 
 my conviction. 
 
 ■Hence my morality , my absolute self-sufficiency and 
 repose of ^ conscience, alwa ys remain depen dent upon an 
 
 accident. When T consider all this — and it is my duty 
 
 to consider it — I must either act trusting to chance , 
 which i s jigainst conscienc e, or I must not act at al l. Tut 
 pass my whole life in a state of undecidedness, always 
 wavering between doing and not doing. This is the onl y 
 / alternative, unless there is an absolute criterion of the 
 i correctness of my conviction of duty. 
 
 (^I'liis IS a very important remark, never yet sufficiently 
 considered, it appears to me, the development whereof 
 will bring a firm connection tato our whole theory, and 
 gain for us an easier transition from the formal to the 
 material conditions of morality.) 
 
 B. If dutiful conduct in life is to be at all possible , 
 there m ust be an^bso]^l^CTS^!on of the correctness o f 
 our convictions respectinpj duty . Hence a certain con- 
 viction must be absolutely corfect, and which we must 
 accept for the sake of duty. 
 
 Let the manner of our drawing this conclusion be 
 observed. We say, if dutiful behaviour is to be possible, 
 then such a criterion must exist ; now the moral law says 
 such behaviour is possible: hmux such a criterion does 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 175 
 
 exist. We therefore conclude from the existence and the 
 necessary causality of a moral law as to the existence of 
 something else in our power of cognition. "We thus 
 assert a relation of the mor a l law to theo retical reason, 
 or the vritnacv of the former, as Kant expresses it. That 
 without which duty in general were impossible, is abso- 
 lutely true, and it is duty to consider it as true. 
 
 Lest this proposition should be altogether misappre- 
 hended, let the following be observed: the moral law 
 assuredly requires a certain determined conviction = A, 
 and authorizes it. But since the moral law is not a 
 power of cognition, it cannot itself establish this con- 
 viction, but expects the power of cognition to establish 
 and determine it through its reflecting power of judg- 
 ment ; and only after it has been thus established through 
 cognition does the moral law authorize it, and make it 
 our duty to hold to it. The opposite would indeed lead 
 to a material belief -morality ; i.e. ^ to a theory whig h 
 holds that the ^ TiftrgJ law contains certain theoretic al 
 do£mas which must be accepted as true without any 
 further examination as to whether we can or not convince 
 ourselves of their truth. But such an assertion is partly 
 in itself contradictory, since the practical activity of the 
 Ego is not the theoretical activity; would, moreover, 
 open the door to all manner of deceptions and to the 
 suppression of conscience. The theoretical faculties 
 pursue their even tenor until they arrive at what meets 
 our approval ; but those faculties do not contain in them- 
 selves the criterion of the correctness of their result. 
 This criterion is to be found in the practical faculty, 
 which is the first and highest faculty in man, constituting 
 indeed his true essence. Our present assertion is the 
 same as already established previously, with only a 
 , further determination added ; viz. : the moral law is 
 i purely formal, and must receive its content from another 
 I Source. But that something is its content , must have its 
 'ground in the moral law itself. 
 
176 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 The much more difficult question, however, arises now : 
 how does the confirmation by the moral law, of a 
 theoretical judgment respecting duty, manifest itself, and 
 how is it recognised ? 
 
 The moral law, in its relation to empirical man, has a 
 determined beginning point of its sphere; namely, the 
 determined limitation wherein the in dividual finds him- 
 self by first finding. hijaa sU^ : it has moreover a determmed 
 — although never to be attained — end; namely, absolute 
 liberation from aU limitation : and it has finally a com- 
 pletely determined way to reach this end; namely, the 
 order of nature. Hence for each determined man there 
 is in each point of his life a determined duty; to do 
 something or leave something undone; and it may be 
 said that the moral law, in its application to empirical 
 beings, postulates this duty. Let us designate this deter- 
 mined doing or leaving undone = X. 
 
 Now the practical power , as has been said, is not 
 theoretical. Hence it cannot give this X to itself. This 
 X must therefore be discovered by the free reflecting 
 power of judgment. Since, however, there is an impulse 
 to act generally, and moreover to realize the determined 
 X through this action, this impulse determines the power 
 of judgment, if not materialiter to give this X, which the 
 power of judgment cannot do, at least formaliter to 
 discover it. Hence the moral impulse here manifests 
 itself as an impulse to realize a determined cognition. 
 Let us assume that the power of judgment finds X, 
 which seems to depend upon chances, and the impulse to 
 realize the cognition will agree with the fact that the 
 cognition has been found: the original Ego and t he 
 empirical Effl will be in h armony and there results a 
 feeling, as is always the case" according to what we have 
 said above in this circumstance. 
 
 The only question is: what sort of a feeling may this 
 be, and how is it to be distinguished from other feelings? 
 All sesthetical feelings are like the present one in this, 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. \-j-j 
 
 that they arise from the satisfaction of an impulse to 
 realize a determined representation ; but they are distinct 
 from the present one in this, that the impulse which lies 
 at their basis does not absolutely demand its satisfaction, 
 but merely expects it as a favour of nature. But thg 
 impulse to rpaliyp a. o.ryj]\\,\r\r>., wTiPr eof we Speak h ere, IS 
 the absolutely c ommanding moral impulse. Hence, there 
 cannot arise here — as in the case of those other sesthetical 
 feelings — an enjoyment which unexpectedly surprises us, 
 but merely a cold approval of that which was to be ex- 
 pected, nay, which could not fail to manifest itself, as sure 
 as reason is reason. That which excites this approvaLis 
 called in actions 'jitst. in cognitions true. 
 
 It appears, therefore, that there i8 a_£eelinsiof truth and 
 certainty, and that this feeling is the feought-for absolute ' 
 pjiitp.rinn of ||ie correctness of our conviction of duty . 
 We shall describe this important feeling somewhat more 
 at length. 
 
 So long as th e power of judgmen t is still searching for 
 the cognition, the free power of i ma gination float s between 
 opposites, and there arises — from the facttnatthe search 
 is undertaken at the ingtigation„Qf..an impulse, which has, 
 therefore, not yet been satisfied — a feeling of.^doubt, 
 accompanied byanxiet^ because the matter is, above all 
 other things, importSt. (I know, for instance, that I 
 doiibt. How do I know it ? Surely not from the objective 
 quality of my judgment. Ijimbt is some thing subjective, 
 and can only be felt, like its opposite, certainty.) As 
 soon as the power of judgment discovers the required 
 cognition, the fact that it is the cognition which was 
 required appears from a feeling of agreement which 
 manifests itself. The power of imagination is now 
 necessitated as through all reality; I cannot view the 
 matter in any other way; compulsion, necessity, binds me^ 
 as is th e cas e in every feeTSg! Thus, there results in the 
 'cogmiion immediate certainty, accompanied by peace and 
 satis/action. 
 
178 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 EEMAEK. 
 
 Kant says {Religion Within the Limits of Pure Eeason, 
 § 4) excellently : " The consciousness that an act which 
 I undertake is ^ just, is unconditioned duty. " Jjut is there 
 such a consciousness possible ? and how do I recognize it ? 
 Kant seems to leave this to the feeling of each individual, 
 as is, indeed, proper; but transcendental philosophy is 
 obliged to show up the ground of the possibility of such 
 a feeling of certainty, and this is what we have just now 
 done. Kant, however, illustrates by an instance which is 
 also admirably fitted to illustrate what we have said. 
 
 The judge of an inquisition, says Kant, who con- 
 demns a heretic, can never be sure that he does not, 
 perhaps, do wrong in condemning him. Should he ask 
 himself : "Art thou confident that, ia the presence of Him 
 who seeth into all hearts, and staking all that is dear and 
 holy to thee, thou wouldst insist on these propositions of 
 faith, for dissenting from which thou art about to condemn 
 to death this heretic?" he would most surely hesitate and 
 tremble, were he ever so zealous a dogmatist. In like 
 manner, says Kant, those who get up and say : " Whoso- 
 ever does not believe all that we tell you will be eternally 
 damned," ought surely to have faith enough to add : " but 
 if it is not true, we ourselves will agree to be eternally 
 damned"; and yet how few would be willing to do it. 
 This might convince them, indeed, that they are, after all, 
 not so very firmly convinced of dogmas which they want 
 to force upon others. 
 
 Using this analogy, we might say : he who is quite sure 
 of his matter must be willing to risk eternal damnation 
 for it, and if he is not willing to do so he betrays his 
 uncertainty. Now, should anyone ask what this might 
 signify: to b e eternally damn ed? one could certainly give 
 no other rational answer than :_ to give up all one's mora l 
 improvement throughout all eter nity. This is the greatest 
 evil, and an evil wliicii no maiT'fea-n seriously entertain, 
 
u, 
 
 THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 179 
 
 nay, the serious thought whereof would annihilate every- 
 one. Those who most wilfully sin against their own 
 conscience comfort themselves secretly with the assurance 
 that they intend to do it only this time, or only for so and 
 so long a time, and that they will amend in the course of 
 time. It is, therefore, a sure sign that one's conscience is 
 not clear, so long as he either fixedly determines, or, at 
 least, still considers it possible to change his mode of 
 action at some future time. Whosoever is sure of himself , / 
 is so at the risk that he never can change the principles / , '^ 'v, 
 
 "which govern his actions, that all his freedom on that ' ^ 
 point is lost, that he will be evermore confirmed in those>^» 
 principles. Only this is the safe criterion of t rue con- '''?} 
 viction. 'A^ 
 
 The proof is as follows : Such a conviction places us in 
 harmony with the original Ego. This Ego is elevated 
 above all time and changes in time, and hence, in that 
 harmony with it, the empirical Ego also rises above all 
 changes in time, and posits itself as absolutely unchange- 
 able. Hence, the unshakeableness of fixed conviction . 
 
 The result of the foregoing was this : whether I doubt, 
 or am certain, is a matter which I become anxious of, not 
 through argumentation — since that would need again a 
 new proof of its correctness, and so on, ad, infinitum, — but 
 through immediate feeUng. It is only in this manner 
 that subjective certainty, as a state of the mind, may be 
 explained. But the feeling of certainty is always an 
 imme d iate agreement of our consciousness with o:iir 
 orig mai .kg o, as, indeed, could not be otherwise in a 
 pniiosopny wnich starts from the Ego. This feeliag never 
 deceives, for, as we have seen, it only exists where there 
 
 *is complete agreement o f 0TiiL.£iiaiaikaL_ with the nure 
 Ego, and only the latter is our sole true being, and, indeeS, 
 all possible being and all possible truth. 
 
 Only in so far as I am a moral being is certitude 
 possible for me, since the criterion of all theoretiCT-F truth 
 cannot be again theoretical. The theoretical power of 
 
i8o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 cognition cannot again criticize and confirm itself ; _the 
 criterion must be practical, and it must be duty to accept 
 it. This criterion, moreover, is universal, since it does not 
 only apply to the immediate cognition of our duty, but to 
 all possible cognition in general, as, indeed, there is no 
 cognition which is not, at least, mediately related to our 
 duties. 
 
 0. We have seen that the criterion of the correctness 
 of our conviction is an internal one. There is no externa l 
 ob jective criterion , nor can there be such, since the Ego 
 here, where we consider it as moral Ego, must be utterly 
 self-sufficient and independent of everything external. 
 But this does not prevent us from stating what kind 
 of convictions these will be, which this criterion will 
 approve ; and to state this is, at present, our final task. 
 
 It is only through the practical impulse that objects 
 exist for us at all : this is a proposition which has already 
 been abundantly demonstrated. At present, we observe 
 the following : My im pnlsR is b'mited, and, in consequen ce 
 of thipj IJTnit.atinTi^ do T p n sit an objec t. Now^it is clear 
 that I cannot posit and characterize the object, without 
 definitely characterizing the impulse, which limits it ; for 
 a determined object is nothing, and cannot be described 
 otherwise than as somewhat limiting a determined impulse. 
 Thus, I receive the given qualities of the thing, because 
 I place myself and the thing into a state of mutual quiet. 
 But I may also refiect upon my freedom therein. If I do 
 so, then the limitation through the object changes into 
 something which may be expanded regularly and in 
 a certain order ; and such an expansion of my limits will 
 also change the object. If I posit this modificability of the 
 object, I determine its usefulness : its utility for various 
 purposes. ' 
 
 Let it be well observed that this determination of the 
 usefulness of a thing is none other than of the internal 
 unchanging qualities of a thing, and can be none other ; 
 
THE MORALITY OP OUR ACTIONS. 
 
 i8i 
 
 the only difference is that it is regarded from a different 
 view. In either case the object is determined through the 
 impulse which it is to limit, but, whereas in the first 
 case the possible liberation from its limitation is not 
 considered, in the second case it is considered. In 
 the former case the impulse reposes ; in the second 
 it is placed in motion. For, let it be well remembered, 
 that I have deduced the conception of usefulness from the 
 relation of an object to freedom in general, but not exactl y 
 to my own f reedom . ' Something may be thought as useful, 
 ^wlrhoui; tne clear conscious additional thought that I, or 
 some other free being, can apply this usefulness. In an 
 imconscious way, the latter thought, of course, is at the 
 basis of all conception of utility. 
 
 But, perhaps, I only become partly conscious of my 
 impulse. In that case I have grasped only partly the 
 utility of a thing ; have not recognized its true purpose, 
 but onl v some arbitrary purpose for which it may also be 
 used. My whole impulse craves absolute independence 
 and self-sufficiency ; and, until I have apprehended it as 
 such, I have not determined myself completely, nor — 
 through opposition to myself — the thiag, both so far as its 
 qualities and its uses are concerned. If the latter is 
 completely determined in the described manner, I have 
 
 Q 
 
 iw« 
 
 cog nitions of the end-purpose of objects ; and conscience 
 'does not approve a conviction vrntii this insight into the 
 end-purpose of the thing has been obtained, and these 
 cognitions are, at the same time, those which govern, 
 moral behaviour. Th e m oral law, therefore, requires that 
 each thin g should be treated according to its end-purpose. 
 This result has opened to us the easiest transition to the 
 scientific establishment of the material of the moral law. 
 
 What I must, moreover, call attention to is this : we 
 have just now established a complete finished system 
 of cognition, a perfect synthesis. For moral impulse and 
 
i82 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS: 
 
 thegretifi.al knowledge stand in reciprocal relation to each 
 other; and all morality is conditioned through this reci- 
 procity of both. The moral impulse, in so far as it occurs 
 in consciousness, demands a determined conception = X — 
 inaccessible to itself — and through this demand deter- 
 mines, in so far, the power of cognition /ormaZifej* ; that 
 is to say, it impels the reflecting power of judgment 
 to hunt up tiiat conception. But the moral impulse,. when 
 regarded as primary, also determines materialiter the 
 power of cognition in regard to the conception X; for 
 X arises through the completed determination of the 
 object, by means of the whole primary impulse, as we have 
 seen. Hence, all cognition, regarded objectively as a 
 system, is, throughout, predetermined through the moral 
 impulse. Hence, the rational being — even in respect to 
 bntb Tna,t,ter a.nd form nf a,Jl its pr iRsiblp Tf now1edp;e — is 
 absolutely dRtP.rminP.d t.brnngh itsp.lf , and, through nothing 
 external in any manner whatever. That which we have 
 otherwise asserted as simply the result of the conception 
 of Egoness, we here meet again, in a more determined 
 manner, through a genetic deduction. Tor that in the 
 Ego, which determines all its cognition, is its practical 
 essence, since that is its highest. The only firm and final 
 Jjasis of all my knowledge is my Ju ty. This duty is the 
 intelligible " J.n its filt " f thing m itap'if substance, etc.), 
 which, through the laws of sensuous representation, changes 
 itself into a sensuous world. 
 
 On the other hand, cognition determines the moral 
 impulse in consciousness, by givinig to it its object.. Thus, 
 the moral impu lse, through the mediation of cognition, 
 returns mto herself , and the reciprocity just established 
 is, m truth , a reciprocity within the moral impulse itsel f, 
 its own self -rela tion, which manifests itself in the feelmp 
 of certaiSWfaslve have shown. "" '" ^'' 
 
 To state "it aU as concisely as possible.. The formal 
 condition of the morality of our acts, or, their pre- 
 eminently so-called morality, consists in this, that we 
 
THE. MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 183 
 
 resolve t o do that which conscience requires, solely for 
 the sake of conscience . But conscience is the, immediat e 
 consciousness of our determined duty. This is only to be 
 understood as has been explained, to wit : the conscious- 
 ness of a determined somewhat is never immediate, but 
 can only be found through an act of thinking; and 
 hence, so far as its material is concerned, our conscious- 
 ness of duty is never immediate ; but the conscio usness 
 that this determined somewhat is duty, is an imineaia te 
 cogpciou^ nesR a s soon as the deterinined is given. The 
 consciousness of (iuty is J'ormai&er uninediate ,^nd this 
 formal part of consciousness is a mere feehng. 
 
 Kant says : Conscience is a consciousness which is itse lf 4^ J - 
 ^dutv . A correct and sublime statement ! It involves a j 
 
 twofold : first, that it is absolute duty to acquire thi s 
 consciousness, or, as we have stated it, that each one is 
 bound to convince himself as to what his duty may be, 
 and each one can so convince himself in every case. 
 
 This is, as it were, the '^ ,^M^^j°^,^£,^ ^\^^ "^"^ mS^T? 
 namely, that law wlucii prescnbesmat law shall be 
 estiablished. It involves secondly, that consciousness in 
 that condition is nothiag but a consciousness of duty; 
 that is to say, conscience does not furnish the material 
 of our duty , which it is the business of the power of 
 judgment to furnish, and conscience is no power of judg- 
 ment ; but conscience furnishes the evidence , and this 
 sort of evidence occurs only in the consciousness of duty. 
 
 COEOLLAEIA. 
 
 I. The above deduction has for ever cancelled and 
 destroyed the subterfno-e of an erring conscienc e, which 
 most of the present systems of morality still retain. 
 Conscience never errs, a nd cannot err, for it is the 
 immediate consciousness of our pure original, Ego, beyond 
 which no other consciousness penetrates, which no other 
 consciousness can test or correct, which is itself judge 
 
1 84 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 of all conviV,t,ini j ^. but does not recognize any higher judge 
 than itself. Its decisions are final, iand admit of no 
 appea l. To try to reach beyond it is to try to~go 
 out of oneself, to separate oneself from oneself. All 
 material systems of morality which seek some other end 
 for duty than duty itself, thus try to reach beyond it, 
 and are therefore enveloped in the fundamental error 
 of all dogmatism, which always looks for the final 
 ground of whatsoever is in and for the Ego, outside of 
 tbp Y'?^ Such moral systems are possible only through 
 inconsequence, for logical dogmatism admits no morality, 
 but acknowledges simply a system of natural laws. 
 
 Moreover, the power of judgment cannot err as to 
 whetherjjjjjiafiiaBfi^Jiai^^ggkgji^^jij^ Before men are 
 sure on this point, what obliges them to act at all ? No 
 act results through man unless he has determined 
 himself to achieve this act. If he acts without being 
 sure of his conscience, he acts unconscientiously ; his 
 guilt is clear, and he cannot escape the responsibility. 
 There is no excuse for sin. Sin is, and remains sin. 
 
 I hold it important to insist on this point as well, 
 for tlie sake of its importance for morality itself, as for 
 the science of morality. Whosoever says the opposite 
 may find a reason for it in his own heart (the fault 
 cannot be in his understanding), but it is surprising 
 that he should be bold enough to confess it to himself 
 and to others. 
 
 2. Lest the "word feeling should lead to misapprehen- 
 sion, I add the following: A theoretical proposition is 
 not and cannot be felt, but itie certainty and sure 
 
 conviction which accompanies the thinkmg of such 
 proposition is felt. We must not, when thinking, be 
 anxious to think in such a manner as to make it con- 
 formable to conscience, for this is an illoglc aL.thinking. 
 'which habits end marked out for it in advance. Let 
 .thinking strictly proceed in its own manner, in^e - 
 
 |i pendently of cnnScieTICP.. Thp. nnnngifft wpvp r-mnn.'riJ^L 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 185 
 
 and could augur little confidence in one's conscience. 
 The pretended objective teachings of feeling are products 
 of disorderly imagination, which cannot withstand the 
 tests of theoretical reason; and the feeling which unites 
 with them is the feeling of the free self-activity of our 
 power of imagination. It is the feeling of our self, not 
 in our original totality, however, but only of part of 
 our self. A proposition thus produced through feeling 
 is to be recognized by this, that it is in opposition to 
 the laws of thinking, which can not be the case with 
 any conviction confirmed by conscience; and the feeling 
 which accompanies it, may be recognised by this, that 
 though it may not lack depth, intensity, and sublimity, it 
 certainly lacks sureness. !N"o fanatic would act on the 
 prompt in|g_of his feelings at the risk of h aving a chan ge 
 m his convictions made impcSs'iWe for all eternity. 
 '^ 3. The feeling of certainty a rises from the harmony 
 of an act of the power of judgment with th e mora l 
 impnls R : hence the exclusive condition of the possi- 
 bility of such a feeling is, that the subject itself makes 
 this judgment. Hence certainty and conviction can 
 never relate to the judgment of others, and conscience 
 cannot aUow itself to be absolutelv governed through 
 authority. To do so were an evident, flagrant contra- 
 diction. 
 
 Hence, the person who acts on the strength of authority 
 acts necessarily u nconsid entinush^ ^ for he is uncertamT^A. 
 very important proposition, which there is great need 
 to estabhsh in all its strictness. 
 
 It is true, we may guide the investigations of men, and 
 furnish them with the premises wherefrom to form their 
 judgment, which premises they may preliminarily accept 
 upon mere authority. This is more or less the history 
 of all men. Through education th ey receive that which 
 all previous mankind has established up to their time, 
 and which has now become the common faith of man- 
 kind, as premises from whicJti to ii5me~TE"eir own 
 
i86 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 judgments. It is only the true philosopher who accepts 
 nothing without examination, and whose thinking star ts 
 from the most .absolute doubt of everything . 
 
 But before the act takes place, each man is in con - 
 science bound to forrfk^his own , MdSMMLtj'^'^^ those 
 
 premises accepted upon faith ; in other words, to draw 
 himself the final conclusions which determine his acting. 
 If bis conscience confirms the res ult of those premises , 
 it thereby mediately also establishes the ■pracfa'ca^ ''■"' iJ^^V 
 o^hgggj^jgjjUaSggpthough, perhaps, not their theoretical 
 .validity ; for the moral element in them, which shows 
 
 .validity ; 
 itselfin 
 
 itself in the result and is approved through conscience, 
 may be correct, although the theoretical element be 
 altogether wrong. If his conscience disapproves those 
 premises, they are annihilated, and it is absolute duty 
 to give them up. That from which no practical residts 
 follow is an adiaphoron, which may be safely left to 
 itself. True, no knowledge whatsoever is indifferent to 
 mankind in general, and whatsoever is true must have 
 practical results. But for some men, in their limited 
 condition in life, a great part of the theory may remain 
 a matter of utter indifference all their lifetime. 
 
 For the sake of his conscience, man must form his own 
 judgaLent, and compare this judgment with his feeling ; 
 for otherwise he acts immorally and unconscientiously. 
 Hence there is absolutely no external ground and cri- 
 terion of the oblip-a,tnriTiPiS!^ of "a moral comma.ndment,^ No 
 inoral command ; and if it were asserted to be of divine 
 origin, is unconditionally obligatory, because this or that 
 person utters it, or because it is written here or there; 
 it is obligatory only on condition that our own conscience 
 will confirm it, and only because our conscience confirms 
 it. Nay, it is absolute duty not to obey it without ful l 
 self -investigation/. We must first test it by our own 
 conscience, and it is absolutely unconscientious to pass 
 over this examination. Nothing can be urged against 
 this categorial" and unexceptionally valid result of reason ; 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 187 
 
 and all subterfuges, exceptions, or modifications thereof 
 
 are to be invariably repudiated. It is not allowable to 
 
 say, "I have found this or that to be true, and hence 
 
 something else" (which occurs, perhaps, at the same 
 
 place) "must also be true." For this or that was true, 
 
 not because it occurred in such a place, but because it 
 
 showed itself to be true, and it were unconscientious to r> , 
 
 risk something else on the mere chance that it may ■ P , , , 
 
 also be true. That which does not proceed from faith, o r t^- " 7//^ 
 
 from the confirmation of our o wn conscie nce, is absolute / '=C^ 
 
 sin. '^^^ 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE OAUSK OF EVIL IN MAN. 
 
 /i) Whatsoever appertains in general to a rational 
 Being, is necessarily in its wholeness and without lack in 
 every individual, since otherwise such individual would 
 not be rational. It cannot be too often reiterated 
 that a rational being is not composed arbitrarily out of 
 foreign fragments, but is a totality ; and if you cancel 
 a necessary component thereof, you cancel it altogether. 
 
 At present we speak of the rational being as originally 
 conceived. The moral law demands that empirical time- 
 creatures become an exact copy of the original Ego. This 
 time-being is the subject of consciousness, and something 
 occurs in it only in so far as it is consciously posited iu 
 it through a free act of its own self-activity. But it is 
 clear that this positing, this reflecting upon that which 
 constitutes the original Ego, must form a successive 
 series of reflections, each being limited ; and that it 
 must, therefore, require a duration of time to raise 
 everything which constitutes an original Ego to clear 
 consciousness. To describe this process of the reflections 
 of the Ego in time is to furnish the history of the em- 
 pir ic al ^rati onal being. The one thing to be observed, 
 however, is that' this will always appears as accidentally 
 successive reflections or positings, precisely because these 
 all depend upon freedom, and not upon any mechanical 
 law of nature. * 
 
 1 * Henc e the folly of the attemEt_toi_taaca_a-a6fi£SSg?: 
 development in human liistory. Trwnslaior's Bemarks. 
 
A, 
 
 THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 189 
 
 Of something man must become clearly conscious, 
 ittie is to have consciousness at all and to be a rational 
 beiug. First , in time he becomes conscious of the natural 
 impulse — the ground whereof has already been indicated 
 — and he acts in conformity with this impulse ; with 
 Jreedom, it is true, in the formal significance of the word, 
 but without cons ciousness_ of , this freedom. He is free 
 for an intelligence which is outside of him and observes T <J (^ 
 him in his acts, but he is not free for himself ; for himself ^ > c 
 
 he is on ly — if he can be said at all to be anytmngfor 
 himself on this standpoint — a mere animal . 
 
 It is to be expected that he will reflect upon himself 
 in this condition. He then elevates himself above him- 
 self, and enters upon a higher grade. This reflection 
 does not occur necessarily according to a law, and hence 
 we said only that it is to be expected. It occurs through 
 absolute freedom ; it occurs because it occurs. It ought to 
 occur, because the empirical Ego ought to correspond to 
 the pure Ego, but it need not occur necessarily. (The 
 society wherein a man moves may occasion, but cannot 
 <rgduce,_ihis reflection.) 
 
 Now througB~EliiS~reflection the individual tears him - 
 s elf away from his natural impulse, and places himself 
 independently before liimself as "a free intellig ence; 
 through it the individual obtains for Gu^elf the power 
 to defer self-determination, and hence also the power to 
 choose between various ways of gratifying his natural 
 impulse, which manifold arises, indeed, through this very 
 reflection and the postponement of a resolution. 
 
 Let us consider this possibility of choosing a little. 
 The free being determines him self solely in acco rdaiige 
 with and by means of conception s. Hence ^his choice 
 must be based upon a conception of this choice, or of 
 what is to be chosen. A, U, or (!J, l^or instance, is to be 
 chosen. Supposing that the free being chooses C, can 
 it do so without any intelligible ground ? Clearly not, 
 for then the choice would be undertaken not with 
 
 >«" 
 
190 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 freedom, but through blind chance. Freedom acts 
 according to conceptions. Hence there must be abso- 
 lutely something in C. which causes i t to be preferred. 
 We will call this somethin g X. 
 
 But another question: how happens it that it is 
 precisely X, and not some possible - X, which determines 
 the choice ? The ground of this can be sought for only 
 in a^ general rule, o f which the rational being is already 
 possessed. There must be a major of a syllogism in 
 reason, of the following nature : whatsoever is of this or 
 tjiis nature ( ^^^ X). musL be preferred to everything els e; 
 
 I Tinw J! ia of this nature : hence, etc. T he major contains 
 the rule. Such a rule is it which Kant has very happily 
 designated as a jamxim^ (In a theoretical syllogism it 
 would be the major, but the theoretical is not the highest 
 for man, and every possible major has still a higher 
 proposition as its ground. But the highest for man, his 
 maximum, is his rule of action.) 
 
 Let us dwell a little on this conception of a maxim. 
 Firstly, so far as its form is concerned, it is a maxim 
 through an act of my own freedom . If it did not exist 
 through freedom, aU other freedom would be cancelled ; 
 since all other freedom necessarily and in a fixed order 
 results from it. This is Kant's argument. But, more- 
 over, and what I should chiefly urge, it is absolutely 
 contradictory to hold that anything is externally given 
 to the Ego. Whatsoever was given externally to the 
 Ego, thereof the Ego could never have become im- 
 mediately conscious. But the maxim is certainly the 
 object of the most immediate consciousness. 
 
 Hence if an evil maxim pbanld hp. disonv^ red, it is to 
 be explamed solely from the freedom of man, and man 
 6an never remove the responsibiKty from himseTf. More- 
 over, a mere principle is not a maxim, and — since there 
 is no true principle of action except the moral law — the 
 
 .moral law is not a maxim, since it does not devend uvon 
 
 Something becomes 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 191 
 
 a maxim for me only when I, as an empirical subject, 
 make it through freedom the rule of my acting. 
 
 Now, what could possibly be the maxim of man on the 
 standpoint of reflection, where we left him? Since no 
 other impulse occurs in consciousness, as yet, than the 
 natural impulse which only craves enjoyment, and has 
 lust for its motive power, this maxim can only be as 
 follows : " I must choose that which intensively and <^\Jn o Uh 
 extensively' promises the greatest enjoyment ": or in ^ 
 " other words, the maxim of one's own happiness. Some- ^<^^ 
 
 times indeed it may happen, that through means of our 
 sympathetic impulses we seek our own happiness in the 
 happiness of others, but since in such cases it is after 
 all only the satisfaction of those sympathetic impulses, 
 which we seek, our motive power is always after all our 
 own happiness. On this standpoint _mBnJsji^^_^j£ulating, 
 animal. 
 
 I' have proved, that this must be the maxim on the 
 present standpoint; hence I assume, that this maxim is 
 determined by a theoretical law, and may be deduced ' by 
 its means. But just now I stated that the maxim is 
 determined solely through the absolute spontaneity of 
 the empirical subject. How can these two assertions be 
 reconciled ? I propound this question at this early stage 
 of our investigation, although it covers the whole ground 
 thereof. 
 
 I said, if man remains on this standpoint of reflection, 
 it cannot be otherwise than that he should be ruled by 
 this maxim. Hence the maxim was theoretically deduced 
 from the presupposed standpoint. But it is not at all 
 necessary, that he should remain on that standpoint ; nay, 
 he^pught to raise himself to a higher one, and can so 
 ledse himself. That he does not do it, is his own fault, 
 and hence the improper maxim, which results from it, is 
 also his own fault. It is, theirefore, not to be foretold 
 what standpoint the individual will occupy — since that 
 does not follow from any theoretical law. Hence it is 
 
192 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 quite right, if the conclusion runs thus: "Under such 
 circumstances, i.e., with such a character and mode' of 
 tiiinking,' '''Ee''coTri3'noritct'"oth e than he did ." But 
 
 it would be wrong to confine''!^ conclusion to this 
 asser tion, and to de ny that he could .have another 
 character than he has . He absolutely ought to form 
 'another one, if his present character is of no account; 
 'aiid he can do it, since it depends altogether upon his 
 freedom to do so. 
 
 There is something incomprehensible here, as it could 
 not well be otherwise, since we have arrived at the hmit 
 of all comnrehensibility. gi,ti,t]aa.d,QiCiki. ne of freedomi n its 
 application to the empirical subject. For this reason : so 
 long as I do not yet occupy the higher standpoint of 
 reflection, that standpoint does not exist for me ; and 
 hence I cannot have a conception of that which I ought 
 to do, until I actually do it. Nevertheless it remains 
 true, that I absolutely ought to do it; namely with 
 reference to another observer, who knows this point, and 
 in reference to myself, whenever I shall come to know it. 
 For, whenever I come to know it, I cannot excuse myself 
 with having been powerless to do it before, but shall, on 
 the contrary, accuse myself for not having done it always. 
 In other words : I ought to do it in respect to my original 
 character, which, to be sure, is only an idea. 
 
 Nor could it, indeed, be otherwise, since an act of 
 freedom is absolutely lecause it is, and is an absolute first, 
 which cannot be connected with, nor explained from, any- 
 thing else. It is solely from not considering this point, 
 that all the difficulties arise, which strike so many, when 
 they arrive at this point. To comprehend signifies to 
 connect one thinking with another, or, to think the 
 former through the mediation of the latter. When such 
 a mediation is possible, then there is no freedom, but only 
 mechanism. To desire to comprehend an act of freedom 
 is therefore absolutely contradictory. If it could be com- 
 prehended, it would not be freedom, on that very account. 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 193 
 
 In Kke manner all the particular reflections, which are 
 here required, are absolute starting-points of an utterly 
 new series, regarding which one cannot say whence they 
 come — since iu fact they come no whither. This of 
 itself throws much clearness upon what TCant-. say a : that 
 
 the radical evil is inborn in man^ and that nevertheless 
 it has its origin in freedom . For it may well be foreseen 
 and comprehended, that man should remain awhile, or 
 perhaps all his lifetime on the lower standpoints of 
 reflection, since there is absolutely nothing which drives 
 him to a higher standpoint; and experience certainly 
 proves such to be the case. In so far, therefore, evil is 
 inborn in man. But at the same time it is certainly not 
 necessary, .that man should remain upon this standpoint ; 
 since there is also absolutely nothing, which keeps him 
 lack on that standpoint. It is quite as possible for him 
 to raise himself at once to the highest point, and if he 
 does not do so the fault lies with his freedom,' which he 
 does not make use of, although he may not become 
 conscious on this standpoiut of this his fault. And iu so 
 far the evil has its ground in freedom. 
 
 The deduced maxim is certainly lawlessness, but is not 
 yet positive hostUity to, or corruption of, morality . It is 
 to be hoped and expected that the man wUl, sooner or 
 later, raise himself, of his own accord, to that higher 
 point, if he is only left to himself. This is rendered a 
 much more difiicult matter if that improper maxim is 
 raised through sophistry into a principle, as has been done 
 by so many so-called philosophers. I do not a Hufe-tP-tbe 
 defenders ^ the principle of earthlv happines s and per- 
 fection amongs t us Germansj for with them it is more a 
 defect oTexpression and misapprehension, their meaning 
 being usua lly muc h m ore innocent than their words . But 
 "Fallude to tlie'loreign' materialistic and atheistic mqrajMg ^ 
 like ^ Ivet i us. who say: " Man acts only t'r'oni_s elhgh 
 rQ0tiv?t^aii3 there is no other motive power Mn his cha- 
 raHerT T his is his destination. He cannot, and ought 
 
 
194 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 not to, be otherwise, and whoever pretends to be better is 
 either a fool or a fanatic, who ndsapprehends the limits of 
 his own nature." Such an argument is, of course, calcu- 
 lated to suppress and make impossible aU desire for the 
 higher standpoint. 
 
 But, even without such a false philosophy, this mode of 
 thinking may be confirmed, either through general habit 
 and through the experience, which is probably the same 
 in all ages, that most men do not rise beyond it ; which, 
 indeed, gives rise also to the prejudice that those who, 
 in their external acts, which alone can be observed, appear 
 better, may, nevertheless, have in their inmost hearts the 
 same low mode of thinking. Moreover — a not unim- 
 portant observation — it is natural for man to exist on 
 this low standpoint. That is to say, without an act of 
 spontaneity man remains upon that standpoint, borrows 
 his maxims solely from that common — or which to him 
 appears most common — custom, and iudp^es of wbg -t, miifJij 
 Jo be done from what is actually done. The ground is 
 this : it is only through education in the widest sense of 
 the word, i.e., through the general influence of society upon 
 us, that we are first cultured for the use of our freedom; 
 and we always remain on the standpoint of the culture 
 we have thus received, unless, through a free act, we rise 
 above it. 
 
 If Society were better we, also, should be better, 
 though without merit of our own. The possibility, 
 however, to have merit of our own is not cancelled 
 thereby, but is only raised to a higher point. 
 /5>But if inan is left to himself, and not enchained 
 tk«mgh the example of his age or a corrupt philosophy, 
 it is to be expected that he will always become more 
 and more conscious of the impulse to be absolutely self- 
 sufficient, which continues to manifest itself within him. 
 He will thus elevate himself to quite another sort of 
 freedom, for under the previously-described maxim he is 
 onlj formaliter free, and materialiter altogether dependent 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 195 
 
 upon natural objects. He has no other object than the 
 enjoyment which these objects furnish. 
 
 I have said: " If man i s_jHit.-left to. himself he will, 
 perha ps, r ise higher." Each one sees that, from the 
 thoughtlessness and inattentiveness wherein that impulse 
 absolutely does not exist for us, there is no steady transi- 
 tion to the consciousness of thatljQpulse. This transition 
 occurs through a particular act of spontaneity. But, in 
 spite of all evil examples and of all erroneous philoso- 
 phizings, man is stiU capable of this act; he shall and can 
 rise above his standp oint, and it is always his own fault if 
 he does not do so. For all those external circumstances 
 have no causality upon him; they do not work in and 
 through him, but it is he himself who determines himself 
 by means of their influence. Moreover, it is a fact that, 
 in spite of all those obstacles, many men do so elevate 
 themselves. The how remains inexplicable, i.e., can only 
 be explained through freedom. In analogy with a pre- 
 eminent intellectual ability it might be called : a gen ius 
 for virtue. It is not sentimentality, as some writer says, 
 put se lf-determination , and he who would develop virtue 
 must devel op s ^lf-determination. 
 
 Now, if, in some incoinprehensible manner, this impulse 
 to be self-determined a rises in consciousness — but as mere 
 "Blind impulse, because the reflection of it does not occur 
 consciously, and is not undertaken intentionally — then 
 this impulse naturally appears as something accidental; 
 as something which happens to exist in us, and without 
 any higher reason. It is to be foreseen that this mani- 
 festation wiU further and otherwise determine the charac- 
 ter of the individual, and it is this determinedness of 
 character which we have now to investigate. 
 
 The distinguishing characteristics to be noticed in this 
 investigation are as follows : The impulse appears only as 
 a blind impulse, and not as a law, nor as obeying a law. 
 Moreover, it appears as accidental, and non-essential to 
 man's nature, our nature having already been determined 
 
196 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 by the above maxim of selfishness. From these cha- 
 racteristics we must draw our conclusions. It is not 
 necessary that anyone should arrive at this point at all, 
 and it is equally not necessary that he should remain on 
 it ; but if anyone occupies this standpoint it is necessary 
 that his character should become determined in a certain 
 manner. 
 
 Firstly, on this standpoint, in so far as our acts must be 
 explained from it, we do not act according to a maxim, 
 but according to an impulse. Hence, there arises a mode 
 of_a£tingjEhicliJie_acting .indrndiial does not and cannot 
 explain to himself, and which appears to be contradictory, 
 as, indeed, the defenders of the former utterly sensuous 
 mode of acting appeal to the contradictory character of 
 this mode of acting, which, they mistake for pure morality, 
 and thus accuse, likewise, the latter of being absurd. 
 This characteristic is, indeed, of itself sufficient to con- 
 demn the second mode of acting. The previous maxim 
 of selfishness remains, also, the ruling maxim in this con- 
 dition, and all conscious acts on this standpoint are done 
 conformably to this maxim. An act which is done merely 
 
 _at the instigation_of_ a ^ Mind impu lse is an exception 
 to the rule, and hence, when men seek, on this stand- 
 point, to account for the motives of these acts, we usually 
 seek to derive them from that maxim of selfishness, and 
 to establish an artificial connection with that maxim, 
 thereby, as it were, wronging ourselves. 
 
 So far as the material of the desire to will is concerned, 
 there thus arises the — not consciously thought, but, to an 
 
 j)bserver from the higher standpoint, noticeable — maxim 
 of the unlimited and lawless supreme rule over all that is 
 
 external to us. Man has not the will — indeed, he has no 
 will at all, biit is blindly impelled — but he acts as if he 
 had the will to subjugate everything external to the 
 authority of his will, and this he does from absolutely 
 no other possible ground than because he so wiUs. It is 
 immediately clear that such a mode of acting must result 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. i^f 
 
 from the blind and lawless impulse to be absolutely self- 
 determined. 
 
 To properly appreciate this maxim we must compare 
 it with morality. Morality also demands freedom and 
 independence, but desires to attain it only gradually, and 
 conformably to CCTtain law s. Hence, it desires no" un- 
 conditioned and lawless, but a causality which remains 
 under certain restrictions; whereas, the maxim whereof 
 we speak now, demands unconditioned and unrestricted 
 causality. 
 
 The easily recognizable and very common manifesta- 
 tions of this mode of thinking are as" follows : The men 
 who hold it, desire cer tainly to have a good will, and wish 
 that all other men should let everything "depend upon 
 their good will; but the y do, not want to hear anythin g 
 said of their duty or of law . They like to be generou s 
 and forbearing ; everything b ut just. They are benevo- 
 le ntly disposed towards others, but have no respect or 
 ^steem" for tEeir ri ghts. In short, their empirical will, 
 which again depends only upon their will, and is there- 
 fore an absolute empirical will, is to be law for all the 
 rest of the world, both irrational and free. 
 
 Every one must see that these characteristics cannot be 
 explained from the mere craving after enjoyment. Each 
 such attempted explanation is forced, and does not 
 accomplish what it purposes to accomplish, provided only, 
 that the happiness of others is really desired, and that 
 this improper end is not merely made a pretence to cover 
 the still more improper end of mere enjoyment. The 
 object of our will is not at all determined through a 
 possible enjoyment, but is absolutely determined through 
 the will; in form precisely like the genuinely moral mode 
 of thinking. 
 
 However, this mode of thinking necessarily retains the 
 character of impelling esteem. To carry it out may 
 require no sacrifice of enjoyment, for instance, if one has 
 no passions, or if circumstances require no sacrifices ; 
 
igS THE SCiENCM OP ETHICS. 
 
 in which case we approve coldly. For then we heUev e 
 that we had a right to demand t hat everything should 
 suhimFToTnd obey oiir will; and hence nothing occurs 
 but what was ' to "be expected. There is no true joy 
 and gladness connected with this mode of thinking, when 
 it is successful, precisely because it expects no favour 
 from nature, but merely demands that nature should 
 do its duty. Whereas, if it is not successful, there arises 
 — if not pain and woe, as a sorrowful depressing sen- 
 timent, at least disgust, as an active passion, for the very 
 reason that we were impelled by the craving to be 
 self-sufficient. We rave against God and nature, hold 
 forth about violation of justice, and accuse particularly 
 men of ingratitude and want of recognition. 
 
 But to carry out this mode of thinking may also 
 require sacrifices. It is very possible to carry it out with 
 the greatest. self-denial, precisely because it is higher than 
 the impulse to attain mere enjoyment. In this case there 
 results se^AjoZMO^JOT^ This is not so much an esteeming 
 of our free acting through absolute self-determination, as 
 rather an esteeming of our character, as a permanen t, 
 reposeful he,ing. We enjoy to find ourselves better arid 
 nobler than we should almost have credited. That it must 
 be thus, appears from the following : we act in accordance 
 with a blind impulse, and hence not properly with freedorq 
 and matureness ; we did not weigh our action in advance 
 of the acting, but now find it as a given act only by 
 its occurrence ; and the rule according to which it might 
 have occurred, we likewise do not discover until after- 
 ward. Thus the act is and remains a given and not 
 a self-made act, and since it is a good act the doing 
 it remains an inborn goodness. This characteristic 
 appears often, in ordiaary life as well as in philosophical 
 argument. For instance: the assertion of an original 
 goodness of human natu re is based on experience, and on 
 "the above kind of experience. And yet the assertion 
 is utterly false. Human nature is originally neither 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 199 
 
 good nor bad. It becomes good or bad only through 
 i'reedom. ' 
 
 Moreover, this self-valuation is not a cold and quiet 
 approval like moral self-esteem, but is connected with 
 joy, which always proceeds from the unexpected; joy 
 over ourselves beca use we are so good. That it must 
 be so, appears clearly from the following: We have acted 
 in accordance with a blind impulse, and have not re- 
 quired any sacrifice from ourselves. The common line 
 on which we place ourselves with the rest of mankind 
 is selfishness. "We have made up our miud that all men 
 are selfish, and that nothing else is to be expected of 
 them. But now we suddenly find ourselves raised above 
 this common standard of humanity ; we have clear merits. 
 We do not find ourselves — as the moral law wants us 
 to find ourselves — as ixie ought to be, but we find ourselves 
 incomparably better than we hav^ any_need to be. For 
 us there exist none but great, noble and meritorious acts, 
 none but opera superogativa. To characterize this mode 
 of thinking in one word: everythiag which God, men , 
 and nature do for us is nothing b ut their absolu te duty ; 
 they never can clo anyt hin g more than what they ar e 
 boun d to do for us , and are always good-for-notmng 
 servants ; but whatsoever we do for them is graciousness 
 and kindness. However we may act we can never 
 act wrongly. If we sacrifice everything to enjoyment ' 
 it is all right, and nothing but the exercise of our well- 
 founded right. If we deny ourselves enjoyment but in 
 the slightest degree, it is already a superfluous merit. 
 
 That this mode of thinking, when reduced to its 
 principle, is irrationa l, will probably not be denied by 
 anyone; and that it occurs frequently — though without 
 clear consciousness of its character — and, moreover, in 
 those persons who pass for very honest and virtuous men, 
 will also be denied by no one who knows mankind and 
 is able to penetrate into their inmost heart. We will not 
 refer to particular individuals, but to all mankind. 
 
4oo THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Almost the whole history of mankind is simply a proof 
 of our assertion, and history becomes comprehensible only 
 through the present position of such a mode of thinking. 
 Subjugation of the bodies and souls of nations, wars 
 ot conquest and of reUgion, all the misdeeds, in shorT, 
 "which have ever dishonolired mankmd : how are they 
 to be explained ? "What induced the subjugator to 
 pursue his object against danger and labour? Did he 
 hope thereby to enlarge the sources of his sensiipu s 
 enioYment? By no mpans. "That which I will, shall 
 be done; what I saY. shall be law ! " This was the only 
 principle which moved him . 
 
 it has already been acknowledged that this kind of 
 character has not enjoyment for its object. The egotistic 
 self-merit which accompanies it is based on the con- 
 sciousness of sacrifices, which we need not have made 
 in our opinion. True, the satisfaction of these sacrifices 
 affords an enjoyment afterwards, which enjoyment is not 
 sensual, namely, the enjoyment of these caresses which 
 we lavish upon ourselves; but this enjoyment was not 
 the end we had in view; not the motive power of our 
 acts. The real object which governs our acts, although 
 it is never clearly thought and raised to consciousness, 
 is this, that our lawless arbitrariness may govern every- 
 thing. We sacrifice our enjoyment to this purpose, and 
 ■ then flatter ourselves at our unselfishness. 
 
 If man is regarded as a natural being, this mode of 
 thinking has one advantage over the one previousl y 
 described , which estimates everything according to the 
 sensual enjoyment which it furnishes. Viewed from this 
 "standpomL, such a character inspires admiration ; whereas 
 the man who first calculates how much enjoyment he 
 may get out of an act, inspires contempt. For this 
 character, after all, is, and remains, independence from 
 all the external world; is a self-sufficienc v. It might 
 be called the heroic character. In fact, it is the usual 
 mode of thinking of the heroes of history. "^ 
 
The morality of our actions. 2ot 
 
 But when we regard this character from the moral 
 standpoint, it has no value at all, since it does not 
 proceed from morality ! Nay, it is more dangerous than 
 the former sensuous character. For it falsifies and soils 
 — if not the principle of morality, since that does not 
 exist for this mode of thinking — at least, the judgment 
 of material acts emanating from that priuoiple; since 
 it accustoms men to consider that which is merely duty 
 as something noble and meritorious. True, the publican 
 and sinner has no more value than the self-conceited 
 Pharisee, for both have no value at all ; but it is easier 
 to convert the former than the latter. 
 /i^^X^yAasi. has nothing further to do than to raise that 
 craVmg for absolute self-sufficiency, which, when working 
 as a bhnd impulse, produces a very immoral character 
 into clear consciousness, and the impulse will, through 
 this mere reflection, change in consciousness into an 
 absolutely imperative law, as has already been shown. 
 As every reflection limits the reflec ted, thus the reflected 
 impulse is also limited through this reflection, and in 
 virtue of this hmitedness it changes from a blind craving 
 for absolute causality into a law of conditioned causahty. 
 Man now knows that he shall (ought to) do something 
 absolutely. 
 
 Now if this knowing is to change into acting, man 
 must make it a m axi m for himself, to do always, an d 
 in every c ase, that which duty demand s, precisely becau se 
 duty aemands it. The latter condition, indeed, is already 
 involved in the conception of a maxim, as being the 
 highest and absolute rule, which recognizes no higher 
 one. 
 
 It is absolutely impossible and contradictory that any- 
 one with a clear consciousness of his duty should, in 
 the moment of action, consciovsb ^j, TMOlvCi '""^ ^-^ ^o M^ 
 duty. That he should revolt and refuse obedience to 
 the law, and make it his maxim not to do what his 
 dut^is precisely because it is his duty. Such a maxim 
 
202 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 were devilish; but the conception of a devil contradicts, 
 and tiius cancels itself. This we prove as follows : — 
 
 Man is clearly conscious of his duty, signifies: Man, 
 as an intelligence, absolutely requires of himself to do 
 something. Now, to say man consciously resolves to 
 act against his duty, signifies : he requires of himself in 
 the same undivided moment, not to do that very thing. 
 Hence, in the same undivided moment, the same intelli- 
 gence in him must require contradictory acts, which is 
 certainly a self -annihilating proposition, and the most 
 flagrant contradiction. 
 
 But it is very possible to darkATn . in one' s self th e 
 clear consciousness of the requirement of duty . For 
 this consciousness arises only through an act of absolute 
 spontaneity, and remains only through the continuation 
 of that act of freedom; when we cease to reflect it 
 vanishes. (It is the same with this consciousness as 
 with many conceptions of transcendental philosophy. 
 As soon as we descend from the higher standpoint, 
 upon which alone they are possible, they vanish into 
 nothingness.) The matter therefore stands in this 
 shape : if we continue to reflect in accordance with the 
 requirement of the law, and keep it in view, itjg. 
 impossibl e for us not to act in conformity with it — 
 impossible to resist it. if. on the contrary, we lose 
 sight of it, it is equally impossible to act conformably 
 to it. In either case there is necessity, and we thus 
 seem to fall into an int,pnBP.t.na1 fi taHsm. b ut of a lower 
 kind than the ordinary one. For according to the 
 ordinary intellectual fatalism, the moral law which 
 exists in man, without any co-operation of his own, 
 causes, in one case, consciousness of itself, as well as 
 acts in conformity with it; and, in another case, it 
 does not produce such consciousness or such acts, and 
 hence leaves open room for lower impulses. We have 
 already done away with this sort of fatalism by showing 
 that the moral law is not something which exists within 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 203 
 
 us, independently of our co-operation, being, on the 
 contrary, first created by ourselves. 
 
 But the present kind of fatalism holds that eith er the 
 moral law continues in our consciousness, in which ca,HP. 
 
 it necessarily produces moral acts, or it vanishes, in 
 which case moral acts are impossihl^ . Hence the 
 appearance of fatalism vanishes altogether as soon as 
 we observe that it depends upon our freedom whether 
 that consciousness shall continue in u,^. or shall darken 
 
 .itseil. it IS the same with this consciousness as with 
 the above-mentioned standpoint of reflection. 
 
 Again, let it be well noted that this act of freedom, 
 which either retains that consciousness clear, or allows 
 it to be darkened, is also an. absolute first, and hence 
 unexplainable act. It occurs, not according to a maxim 
 and hence not with accompanying consciousness of what 
 I do, and not with a consciousness of the freedom where- 
 with I do it. If it did, the allowing that consciousness 
 to be darkened would be precisely that conscious revolt 
 against the moral law, which we have shown to be a 
 contradiction. It occurs, when it occurs, simply because 
 it occurs without any higher ground. Or, to represent 
 the matter from still another side: the vanishing of 
 the consciousness of duty is an abstraction. Now, there 
 are two very different kinds of abstraction. Either I 
 make the abstraction with clear consciousness, and 
 according to a rule; or the abstraction arises in me of 
 its own account, even where I did not intend to abstract, 
 through an undetermined thinking, such as, for instance, 
 produces all formular philosophy. Now the vanishing 
 whereof we speak here, is of the latter kind; it is an 
 undetermined thinking, and a violation of duty because 
 the determined consciousness of duty is itself duty. 
 
 It is through thoughtlessness and that inattehtiveness 
 to our higher nature, wherewith our life necessarily 
 begins, that we grow accustomed to this thoughtlessness, 
 and thus drift along in our usual current. But this 
 
5o4 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 does not imply, by any means, that we cannot, through 
 freedom, get out of this current. In the same manner 
 we may, on the other hand, habituate ourself to mature 
 consideration and attentiveness to the law, without this 
 habit becoming a necessity for us. Practice and attentive- 
 ness, nay, careful watching of one's self, must be in- 
 cessantly continued. No one is sure for one moment 
 of his morality without continued exertion. No man, 
 nay, so far as we can see, no finite beiag is confirmed 
 in goodness. 
 
 The determined clear consciousness of the moral law 
 vanishes. Two cases are supposable. Either this con- 
 sciousness vanishes altogether and no thought of duty 
 remains until after the act; in which case we act either 
 according to the maxim of selfishness, or in obedience 
 to the blind impulse to have our lawless will rule 
 
 everywhere. We have already described both of these 
 
 '■ /<, ■ ) ■' 
 
 conditions. 
 
 Or there remains a consciousness of duty, but only a n 
 indisti nct consciousness. Here it is important, first of^U, 
 to note now a determined consciousness may change itself 
 iato an undetermined and wavering consciousness. All our 
 consciousness begins with undeterminedness, for it begins 
 with the power o f imagination , which is a power o f floating 
 undecidedly over two opposites. It is only through the 
 understanoing that tlie product of this^oatins^hich, as 
 yet, has no outlines, becomes fixed and determined. But, 
 even after it has been determined, it may easily happen 
 that the sharp outline is lost sight of, and that the object 
 is again held merely by the power of imagination. This 
 we do, for instance, consciously whenever we form a general 
 conception in arhitrary abstraction ; we drop the particular 
 determinations, and thus raise the conception to a general 
 one. True, the conception remains determined in this 
 instance; the very fact that it is, in a certain degree, 
 undetermined, constituting its determinedness. Uncon- 
 sciously, we do it when we are thoughtless or distrait. 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 205 
 
 By far the fewest men seize things determinedly and 
 closely defined. Objects only float vaguely before their 
 minds as in a dream or as covered by a fog. Now, was their 
 understanding then altogether inactive? Certainly not, 
 or no consciousness at all would have been possible. But 
 the determinedness immediately escapes them again, and 
 its passage through the region of the understanding is 
 very quick. Even in regard to its undeterminedness, 
 a conception held in this manner is undetermined. It 
 wavers between more or less undeterminedness without 
 co-operation of the power of judgment. Now, this is the 
 presupposed case with the conception of duty ; it darkens 
 of itself simply because I do not hold it fixedly. 
 
 The conception of duty, as thought in a given case, 
 involves a threefold determinedness which may lose its 
 determined character. Firstly, in each special case some 
 particular act of all possible actsis duty ; and all others 
 are absolutely not duty ! It is only the conception of this 
 one act, which is accompanied by the above described 
 feeling of certainty and conviction. This determinedness 
 of the act escapes us, although the form of the conception 
 of duty remains. We take hold of something else as our 
 duty, nay, perhaps even suppose this something else to be 
 our duty, although, if we went honestly to work, we, 
 should be sure to find it impelled and determined through 
 s ome inclination or anothe r, since we have already lost the 
 ' true tkread of conscience. We then decei ve.^ourselYes^ 
 concerning that which is our duty, a nd act^^^Hlff^ldly 
 said^'i^ro m an erring conscience . But this error is, and 
 remains, our guiit. if we kad but held firm to our 
 insight into our duty, which we thus possessed before,'"" 
 ^BoSS^ot have erred ; and thus to hold it firm was a matter 
 of our freedom. There is a self-deception here, against 
 which we cannot be too much on our guard. (I said above, 
 "if we go honestly to work"; for it is very well possible 
 that some one should only try to make others believe that 
 he does from motives of duty, what he knows well 
 
2o6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 enough, he does only from motives of selfishness. For 
 instance, he may be utterly indifferent as to duty, being 
 a dogmatic unbeliever. Such a character would be that 
 of a miserable hypocrite, and is not included in the above 
 class.) 
 
 Secondly , there is involved in the conception this 
 determinedness, that it is precisely in the P X^s mt cas e, 
 t hat we have to act in' a determined manner . Inis deter- 
 minedness of the present time may escape us, in which 
 case the command appears as one which is not determined 
 by time : that is as one which, though it certainly requires 
 obedience, does not demand it precisely at the present 
 time, and which we need not be in a hurry to obey. 
 Hence, comes the postponement of reform; the thought, 
 that we will enjoy only yet this or that delight, or carry 
 out this or that reprehensible plan, and then seriously 
 consider about reforming. This mode of thinking is 
 partly utterly wicked, because the moral law allows no 
 time for consideration, but demands, whenever it speaks, 
 implicit and immediate obedience ; and partly very dan- 
 gerous, for if we have once learned postponing, we are 
 very likely to continue it. The time when we shall have 
 no more cherished plans, will never come ; for man has 
 always wishes. Such a character is lazy, and requires to 
 be removed by some outside power from the standpoint 
 which he occupies; but such a power does not exist. 
 Even the .Almighty cannot do what the cure of this 
 laziness requires. 
 
 Thirdly and finally, the requirement of duty i.q 
 d etermined in its form, as duty ; it demands absolutely 
 o]3edieiice,"'regardless of ail other impulses. If we allow 
 this determinedness to darken within us, the commands 
 of duty will no longer appear as commands, but only, 
 perhaps, as good advice which we may follow i f we so 
 list an d if it does not cost to o much self-denial, but ~ 
 which we may also, if necessary^'^m"TTitnerTn this 
 condition we frame for ourselves a mixed maxim. We do 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 207 
 
 not always hunt after the greatest enjoyment and care 
 only for it, but often content ourselves with having to 
 do our duty ; nay, perhaps we even sacrifice to duty those 
 enjoyments which are naturally not enticing for us — the 
 spendthrift sacrificiag avarice, the ambitious man lusts 
 which might iaterfere with his ambition, etc., — but we 
 retain those enjoyments which are dearest to us. Thus, 
 we m ake a compromise between conscience and lust : nay, 
 beheve to have satisfied both at the same time. 
 
 It is this mode of thinking which impudently asserts 
 that we cannot live as the moral law requires, that the 
 punctual practice of that law is an impossibility: an 
 assertion which is very frequently heard in ordinary life, 
 but which has also sneaked into philosophical and 
 theological systems. But, of what impossibility, I ask, 
 does this assertion speak ? That we often cannot realize our 
 firmest will in the external world on account of external 
 obstacles, is true enough ; but neither does the moral law 
 unconditionally demand this realization. The moral law 
 
 ^^ II l»llll 11. III! iiiiii. 
 
 requires only that we should exert all our powers, snouxa 
 "do all we can do ; and why should we not be able to 
 do what we can do ? The moral law requires only that 
 we should not do the opposite of our duty. And why 
 should we not be able to leave that undone ? . What power 
 can force us free beings to act ? 
 
 What that assertion really means to say is : we cannot 
 do our duty, if we want to retain this or that enjoyment, 
 this or that possession, &c. Duty demands that we 
 should sacrifice them. But we cannot both sacrifice and 
 retain them. 
 
 True enough ; but who has said that we ought to retain 
 these enjoyments or those possessions ? Everything, life, 
 honour, and all that is dear to man, is to be sacrificed to 
 duty. Such is our opinion. We have never asserted that 
 in every case duty and the satisfaction of selfish impulses 
 could co-exist. The latter are to be sacrificed. Hence 
 the truth is not, we cannot do our duty, but we will not do 
 
2o8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 our duty. We cannot make up our will to make those 
 sacrifices. It is our will, not our power to do, which is at 
 fault. 
 
 If anything; indeed, proves the wide extent of human 
 corruption and its shamelessness, it is this contradictory 
 and utterly irrational subterfuge, which is put forth 
 again and again, and put forth and defended even by the 
 most sensible men, nay, which even teachers of morality 
 have accepted and seriously discussed, as if there really 
 were a grain of rationality in it. 
 
 (It is precisely the same, when men speak of impossi- 
 bility in relation to what pure reason . requires to be 
 realized in a technical -practical respect. The ^^^we_ 
 cannot" always signifies the same . If, for instance, a 
 'thorough reform of Statei organization is demanded, men 
 cry " those propositions cannot be realized, they are im - 
 practicable ." Of course they are i mpracticable, if th e 
 old abuses are to remain . But who says that they are 
 to remain?) 
 
 These three different modes of evading the severity 
 of the moral law may be united, but the latter con- 
 dition is undoubtedly of greatest danger to mankind. 
 If we have once persuaded ourselves that we can 
 make a compromise with the strictness of morality, we 
 shall likely remain all our lifetime making such com- 
 promises, unless indeed some severe external concussion 
 stirs us up to repent; and in so far indeed it is much 
 easier to reform a sinner, than a conceited just man 
 of the latter sort. 
 
 CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 In order to place the doctrine of freedom in the clearest 
 light, and to prosecute fatalism into its extremest hiding- 
 corners, we append some remarks more specially referring 
 to Kant's assertion 0/ a radical evil in man . 
 
 The existence of evil in man we have explained as 
 follows: each one to be called a man, must arrive at 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 209 
 
 self -consciousness. Now this involves simply that he 
 should become co Tipmnna f>f h\s^ frpp dom in the choice 
 of his action s. This consciousness arises already, when 
 man learns to make a choice between the manifold which 
 the mere natural impulse demands of him. In this case 
 he will act unconsciously and darkly — or, if his under- 
 standing is somewhat developed — consciously and clearly 
 according to the maxim of selfishness ; and in so far we 
 may certainly, as Beinhold does, ascribe to man a selfish 
 impulse, although lO^o be remembered, that he has 
 made himself selfish only through a voluntarily chosen 
 maxim; for the mere natural impulse is by no means 
 selfish or blameworthy ; it being rather duty to satisfy it. 
 as we shall show in time . Upon this standpoint man 
 \ remains very readily, since nothing impels him onward, 
 and since no necessity whatever compels him to reflect 
 upon his higher nature. 
 
 Now if we had merely said, man can remain on this 
 standpoint, there would be no difficulty about the asser- 
 tion. It would be an altogether problematical statement. 
 But how do we come to make the statement categorical 
 and positive ; how do we come to say it is certainly not 
 necessary, but it is to be expected that man will remain 
 on that standpoint ? What is it which we really do assert 
 in this statement, and what is the posiiiveness which 
 we presuppose unwittingly ? ""' 
 
 It is this: man will not do anything, whibh is not 
 absolutely necessary, and which he is not compelled by 
 his nature as man to do. We therefore presuppose an 
 original laziness to reflect, and what is simply the result 
 of it, to act in accordance with such reflection. This 
 would, therefore, be a true positive radical evil, and 
 not merely a negative evil, as it has hitherto seemed 
 to appear. It was indeed necessary that it should be 
 thus. We had need of a positive, were it but to explain 
 th e negative . "^"^^ 
 
 Now, what justifies such a presupposition? Is it 
 P 
 
2IO THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 merely experience ? Kant seems to assume this, although 
 he arrives at the same conclusion, which we shall 
 immediately arrive at. But giere experience would never 
 justify such a universal presupposition. Hence there 
 must be a rational ground for it ; not one which 
 generates necessi jiy, f"^ '^^'^^ frPPflnTn wnnlrl be cancelled, 
 but one which renders explicable that universality of 
 experience. We ascribe to nature as such a power of 
 inertia (vis inertice) . This results, indeed, from the 
 conception of the causality of a free being, which must 
 necessarily occur in time if it is to be perceptible, 
 and which could not so occur, were it not posited as 
 resisted by external objects. True, the conception of a 
 power of inertia seems contradictory, but nevertheless 
 it is a real one; and it is only requisite that we should 
 understand it properly. 
 
 ilTHititl^'^i flif ""^^as ipe re Ep^o and Object in general . 
 has onlv repose, only bems ; it is what it is, and in so 
 far no active power whatsoever is to be ascribed to 
 nature. But for. the very purpose of thus remaining, or 
 reposing, nature must have a quantum of tendency or 
 power to remain ij^ha.t.it ia Tf if. Vikg VinfThia prlrrQ';- 
 nature would not retain its form for a moment, would 
 change incessantly and thus have no form at aU. In 
 short, nature would not be nature. N"ow . if an opposite 
 power influences nature, nature neceasa,rUy resist s 
 with all its power, in order to remain as it is ; and 
 it is only now, through relation to an opposite power, that 
 what was before inertia becomes activity. It is thus that 
 both conceptions are synthetically united, and it is 
 this synthesis which is signified by a power of inertia. 
 
 Now, on the indicated standpoint we ourselves are 
 nothing but nature. Our powers are powers of nature, 
 and although it is freedom which gives them vitality, 
 since the causality of nature came to an end in the 
 impulse, yet the direction is absolutely no other than the 
 direction which nature itself would have taken, if left 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 211 
 
 undisturbed. Moreover, the fact that we do occupy the 
 described standpoint, is also to be taken into considera- 
 tion, since it is a necessary fact, as a result of natural 
 mechanism. Thus we are nature in every respect. But 
 that which appertains to all nature must also appertain 
 to man in so far as he is nature : a reluctance to emerge 
 from his present condition ; a tendency to remain in the 
 old accustomed pathway. 
 
 It is only thus alone that we explained a universal 
 phenomenon amongst men, which is illustrated in all 
 human actions: the possibility of habit, and the ten- 
 dency to remain m the oia beaten track. Each man, 
 even the most powerful and active, has his " Schlendrian," 
 to use a low but very characteristic expression, and 
 wUl have to fight against it all his lifetime. This is the 
 power of inertia in our natur e. Even the regularity and 
 order of most men is nothing but this tendency to repose 
 and habit. It always costs labour t o tear loose from^ 
 . it Even if we are successful for once, an^^he stirring 
 up holds on awhile, we nevertheless fall back into our old 
 laziness as soon as we cease to watch ourselves. 
 
 Let us consider man in the described condition. Since 
 he is, in general, in his original essence, although not in 
 actuahty, free and independent of nature, he is certain 
 to tear himself loose from this condition, and can do so, 
 if we regard him as absolutely free ; but he must be free 
 before he can tear himself thus loose through freedom. 
 It is precisely his freedom which is enchained ; the power 
 which is to help him is in league against him. There 
 is no equilibrium, no balance ; the weight of nature drags 
 him down, and there is no weight of the moral law to 
 counterbalance it. Now it is true enough that man 
 absolutely ought to place himself in the other scale, and 
 ought to decide that step ; it is likewise true that man 
 has the actual power within him to give himself sufficient 
 weight to overbalance his inertia or laziness, and that 
 he can at each moment, through a pressure upon himself 
 
212 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 by means of the mere will, raise this power; but how 
 is he to get this will, this first pressure upon himself ? 
 It is by no means a result of his condition, which, on the 
 contrary, rather retards it. Moreover, this first pressure 
 is not to arise from his natural state, but absolutely 
 from his self-activity. But where, then, in his natural 
 condition, is the point from which he might raise that 
 power ? Absolutely nowhere. If we view the matter 
 from a natural point of view, it is absolutely impossible 
 that man should help himself, or should grow better. 
 Only a miracle, to be achieved by himself, can help 
 him. (Hence those who assert a sei'vum arbitrium , and 
 characterize man as a piece of log or a stick, who cannot, 
 through his own power, move himself, but must be im- 
 pelled by a higher power, are altogether in the right, and 
 logical, if they speak of the natural man.) 
 
 Laziness, therefore, reproducing itself infinitely through 
 long habit, and soon changing into utter impotency to 
 be good, is the true, inborn evil which has its ground 
 in human nature itself, and can be easily enough ex- 
 plained from it. Man is by nature lazy, says Kant v ery 
 correctly. -'' 
 
 From this laziness next arises cowardice, the second 
 fundamental vice of man. Cowarai ce*i^asme ss to m ain- 
 tain our frp,p.dnm. and indevendence in our contaci'With 
 others . Each one has courage enough when opposed 
 to a man, of whose weakness he is already convinced; 
 but if he has not this conviction, if he comes in contact 
 with a man in whom he presumes more strength — no 
 matter of what kind — than he himself possesses, he gets 
 afraid at the exertion of power which he will need to 
 maintain his independence, and hence gives way. Only 
 thus is slavery, physical as well as moral slavery, amongst 
 men to be explained: subjection and authority worship. 
 I am terror-stricken in view of the bodily exertion of 
 resistance, and subject my body; I am terror-stricken 
 at the trouble of self-thinking, which somebody else 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 213 
 
 requires of me by making bold or intricate statements, 
 and asking me to see into them; and I rather submit 
 to his authority, so as to get soon rid of his demands 
 upon me. (There are always men who wish to rule; 
 we have stated the reason above. But these are the 
 fewer and more energetic men. They have a bold, 
 strong character. How, then, does it happen that the 
 others, who, united, would be much stronger, submit to 
 these few ? Thus : the trouble which it would require of 
 them to resist, is more painful to them than the slavery 
 lo which they submit, and which they hope they shall 
 be able to bear. The least exertion of power is far more 
 painful to ordiaary man than thousandfold suffering, 
 and he would rather bear everything than act once. In 
 suff ering he at least remains passive and q uiet, and gets"" 
 accustomed to it. Thus the sailor , of the anecdote was 
 willing rather to comfort himself with the hope that 
 he should be able to stand it in hell, than exert himself 
 sufficiently to better himself in this life. There he would 
 only suffer, but here he should have to act.) 
 
 The coward comforts himself in this subjection, which 
 after all is not heartfelt, by means of falseness and 
 deception ; for the third fundamental vice of man, which 
 naturally arises from cowardice, is^^Zsewess. Man cannot 
 so utterly deny his selfhood and sacrifice it to another, 
 as he may pretend to do, in order to be relieved of the 
 trouble to defend himself openly. Hence he only shams 
 it in order to espy a better opportunity, and that he may 
 oppose his oppressor when the same shaU no longer have 
 his attention directed upon him. All falsen e ss, all lying, 
 all cunn ing and trea chery, arise from the tact tnat" there 
 are _oppres^d!fS;''aha everYO^^S^^ Ppressesmustexpec t 
 
 i,rd i,s false^*T!i?T5uragiSBb 
 
 Only the coward i,s falseT 
 man lies not, nor is he false ; if not from virtue, at least 
 from pride and strength of character. 
 
 This is the position of the ordinary natural man. 
 Ordinary, I say ; for the extraordinary man, whom nature 
 
214 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 has specially favoured, has a powerful character, although 
 from a moral point of view he is no better. He is neither 
 lazy, nor cowardly, nor false ; but he tramples overbear- 
 ingly upon everything around him, and becomes master 
 and subjugator of those who chooe^e to be slaves. 
 
 This description may appear ugly and disgusting. But 
 let no one set up the customary groaning and ranting 
 about the imperfection of human nature. Precisely the 
 fact that these characteristics appear so disgusting to 
 you, proves the nobility and sublime character of 
 humanity. Do you find it disgusting if the stronger 
 animal devours the weaker, or if the weaker animal 
 overpowers the stronger through cunning ? Doubtless 
 not; you find this to be all in order and proper. But 
 not so in the case of man, and precisely because it is 
 impossible for you to consider man as a mere product 
 of nature. You are forced to regard man as a being 
 above all nature, as a free and supersensual being. The 
 very fact that man is capable of vice shows that he is 
 destined for virtue. Moreover, what were virtue unless 
 it were the actively acquired product of our own freedom, 
 the elevating of oneself into an altogether different order 
 of things ? 
 
 Finally, who that has remarked fhe grounds we have 
 shown up for these characteristics, can hold them valid 
 only for the human race, as if only to the human 
 race they were foreign, having been engrafted upon it 
 through some hostile demon, and as if they were not 
 rather valid for all finite, rational beings. For these 
 characteristics are not grounded, as we have seen, in a 
 peculiarity of our nature, but rather in the conception 
 of general finity itself. Let us ever so much try to 
 conceive cherubim and seraphim; we may certainly 
 conceive them as differing from man in their more 
 particular determinations, but not as so differing in their 
 general characteristics. There is but One who is holy, 
 and all created being is by nature necessarily unholy 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 215 
 
 and impure, and can elevate itself to morality only 
 through its own freedom. 
 
 But how is help to come to man, consideriag that this 
 involved laziness cripples the only power through which 
 man can help himself ? What does he really lack ? ITot 
 the power, for this he has ; but the consciousness thereof 
 and the impulse to make use of it. This impulse cannot 
 come to him internally, from the reasons stated above. 
 If it is not to arise through a miracle, but naturally, it 
 must come externally. 
 
 In this way it can come to him only through the 
 understandiag, and through the whole theoretical faculty, 
 which certainly is capable of culture. The individual 
 must learn to see himself iu his contemptible nature, 
 and to experience disgust with himself ; he must likewise 
 be brought in contact with exemplary men, who would 
 elevate him and teach him how he ought to be, and thus 
 inspire him at the same time with a desire to become 
 himself worthy of such esteem. There is no other way 
 of ^culture. But this only furnishes what is lacking — 
 consciousness and impulse. Improvement and elevation, 
 however, depend upon our own freedom, and for the 
 man who makes no use of this freedom there is no help. 
 
 But whence are these external impulses to be brought 
 amongst mankind? Since it remains a possibility for 
 each individual, in spite of his laziness, to elevate himself 
 above it, we must assume, and very properly may assume, 
 that amongst the whole mass of men some individuals 
 have actually thus elevated themselves to morality. It 
 will necessarily be the aim of such men to influence their 
 fellow-men, and to influence them in the described manner. 
 
 Now, something like this is 'positive reliaion ; institu- 
 tions arranged by pre-eminentl^gooa men, with a view 
 to cultivate the mo ral sensibility of others . Their age 
 and general usefulness may, moreover, have invested 
 these institutions with a peculiar authority, which may 
 be very useful to those who need them, particularly in 
 
2i6 tH£ SCIENCJE Ofi ETHlCS. 
 
 exciting their attention, but n.TjytTn'Tip r ^ J^f»^ .^j";!^. 
 foy :^i;^ata,np,p,. fa.ifj^i in authority, or blind obedience, th ose 
 institutions cannot have in view without making ^^^ ' 
 Tiind utterlv immoral, a s has been shown above. 
 
 It is very natural that those men from whose inner 
 consciousness this moral sensibility developed itself — as 
 by a real miracle and without any external cause — ^not 
 meeting with this same sensibility in their fellow-men, 
 should have interpreted it as having been effected in 
 them through an external spiritual being: and if they 
 meant ihdr empirical Ego as signifying thiemselves, they 
 doubtless were right. It is possible that this interpreta- 
 tion has descended down unto our times. It is a 
 theoretically true interpretation, if meant to indicate 
 what we have just stated, and even, if not exactly so 
 explained, is utterly without danger . ■ iProa;trfei^ it is not 
 m,a.(Je. ti,Re,j)f to en force Mind obedience ; and each one may 
 hold whatsoever he chooses regarding this matter ; 
 practically it is of no significance to most men. 
 
BOOK FOURTH. 
 
 concerning the material conditions of 
 the morality of our actions. 
 
 Preliminary. 
 
 A. I HAVE causality , signifies, as we know : That which I 
 proposed to myseH, as end, actually occurs . We have 
 ' seen, from the transcendental standpoint, that this agree- 
 ment of perception with the will is, in its highest ground, 
 nothing but an agreement of our empirical being, as 
 determined through absolute spontaneity, with an original 
 impulse. If I determine myself to do something which 
 my original impulse actually demands, I, as the em- 
 pirically-determined time -being, am being placed in 
 harmony with my original self, as it exists without any 
 consciousness of mine. Thus there arises in me a feeling, 
 fo r I feel myself whole ; and this feeHng is a perception, 
 as has been shown more at length above. 
 
 Now the original impulse is directed upon manifold 
 matters, for it has been given me for all eternity, and 
 throughout all eternity my whole existence and ex- 
 perience is nothing but an analysis of this, my original 
 impulse. True, it can only be satisfied gradually, and 
 by means of passing through various middle stages ; 
 and even in those cases when it is satisfied, we can 
 again, through free reflection, separate the object of the 
 impulse into an infinite manifold. In other words: the 
 
21 8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 original impulse craves at all times a determined end = X, 
 an X determined through all that has passea before it, 
 and through its own nature ; but nevertheless also an X, 
 which, since it is a quantvmi, can again, through free 
 reflection, be i nfinitely divided into a. b, c, and again 
 ^SJ'Sn.wufj /. <^9-i &c- It is only thus that a manifold 
 acting is possible. But since the whole X is possible — 
 it being dema.nded by the or iginal' impulse — all parts of 
 it are likewise possible.' in eacn case infinitely many 
 actions are possible. But in order that something should 
 occur, it is necessary not only that it be possible, but 
 likewise, that I determine myself to do it. That which 
 I do not will does not occur through my impulse, and 
 only that amongst aU possible acts, which I will, does 
 occur. 
 
 B. Let us linger over the conception of the manifold, 
 which is possible as such; i.e., let us not look at the 
 relation of these acts to each other, whether they exclude 
 or include each other, &c., for this does not concern us as 
 yet. Amongst this possible manifold, absolutely onl y 
 one (a determined part of the manifold) is conformable 
 to XLuty,. and ail others are opposed to duty . (Let me 
 observe here, moreover, that the command of duty 
 always lies within the sphere of the possible, for it lies 
 within the sphere of what the original impulse, upon 
 which the moral law is based, demands. The impossible 
 is never duty ; and duty is never impossibl e.) 
 
 N'ow which then is this One, demanded through duty? 
 In the previous chapter we were referred for this one 
 to an internal feeling, called conscience . Whatsoever 
 conscience will confirm is always duty, and conscience 
 can never , err i f we only attend to its voices. This, then, 
 would be suf&cient for our actual acting, and we need 
 nothing more to make it possible. The popular teacher, 
 for instance, need not go any further, and can close his 
 moral teachings at this point. 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 219 
 
 But it is not sufficient for science. Either we must 
 
 be able a vriori to determine what cnnscip.np.p, will conffr. 
 or we must confess that a science of morality, as an 
 applicable science , is impossible. 
 
 Let us look at Qie matter from another side. Feeling 
 decides. This decision, doubtless, bases itself on a 
 law, grounded in reason, which certainly cannot be""an 
 object or consciousness "on the standpoint of common 
 understanding, since iu consciousness it is only manifested 
 as a feeling ; but which may, perhaps, be disseverable from 
 the transcendental point of view. Mere popular teaching 
 remains~ui the standpoint of' cbmmo and* 
 
 hence everything which takes place on the transcendental 
 standpoint does not occur for it, but philosophical teaching 
 is philosophical or scientific only in so far as it rises 
 beyond the former. 
 
 Eeason is throughout determiae d. Hence whatsoever 
 lives m reason, and as a consequence the whole system of 
 conscience, which manifests itself in feelings, must also 
 be determined. In the course of our investigation we 
 shall find still other external grounds for the necessity 
 of such a law, reason, upon which the feelings of 
 conscience are based. If we succeed in discovering this 
 law, we shall have, at the same time, answered in advance 
 of the immediate decision of conscience, the question: 
 What is our duty ? 
 
 C. "We might give a preliminary answer which, although 
 it is identical, and hence not decisive, may, nevertheless, 
 be a guide to us in our investigation. 
 
 Namely : the final end of the Moral Xaw is -.absolute 
 independence and self-sufficiency , not merely so far as 
 "our will IS concerned, for the will' is always independent, 
 but so far as nnr whnle beincr is c9ncerned^ Now this^ 
 end is unattainable ;, true enough, but, at the same time, 
 it can Be steadily^ and uninterruptedly approached. 
 Hence there must be possible from the first standpoint 
 
\ 
 
 220 TI/£ SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 of every individual a steady and uninterrupted series 
 o|_acts, through which he can approach that Te n d. 
 Conscience can always s^pprove only those acts which 
 occur in this series. Let us figure this, in the shape of 
 a straight line. Only that which occurs as point in 
 this line can he approved^ by conscience, and nothing 
 else. Hence our question may also be" framed thus : 
 What are the acts which occur in the described series ? 
 
 To promote insight into the general connection of our 
 method. Our investigation connect s h ere precisely with 
 where we^aropped ii, at the end of . tlie second iJo ofc, 
 concerninq the applicability of the moral prmciple. °We 
 
 II I '^'^ - I '^M I '11^.. ■ ' 
 
 were unable to see, then, how it were possible o^ jpnort 
 to determine our duty, and had no other criterion jhan 
 the approval or chsap.prpval, oi: our conscience a ft e r the 
 deed. We should always have been lorcea to^mi tne 
 risk, and could only have collected a few moral principles 
 through long experience and after many mis-steps. The 
 moral law, as a law determining the acts, as an essentially 
 practical law, would have been almost utterly done away 
 with, and would have been changed into a mere regulative 
 principle of judgment. We, then, in the first chapter 
 of the Third Book found such a criterion, it is true, 
 namely, the feelinsj of conscien ce, and thus we secured 
 the practical applicability of ttie moral law. But although 
 I sufficient for acting in life, this was not sufficient for 
 science. At present the question is. whether there is 
 still a higher principle, if not in consciousness, at least 
 in philosophy : a highest uniting ground of these feelings 
 of conscience . Our investigation has, therefore, evenly 
 pursued its course, and we may hope that it will 
 succeed in penetrating where hitherto we have been 
 unable to pass. 
 
 D. What then are in their substance these acts which 
 lie in the series of approach to absolute self-determination? 
 This is our present problem. We have already shown 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 221 
 
 above, that these acts are such, through which we treat 
 objects conformably to their purpose or end. "We re- 
 capitulate in a few words. It is only in consequence 
 of a determined limitation of the impulse, and in order 
 to explain this limitedness, that a determiaed object 
 is at all posited. If this impulse itself is posited as 
 impulse (as a yearning or desiring ) and related to the 
 object, then we have that which the Ego would like to 
 produce in the object, or what it would like to use it 
 for ; in short, we have the originally determined, and by 
 ,no me ans arbitrarily to be posited, iinal end and aim 
 of such object. But, according to our aboVe remark, 
 ever^ arbitrary purpose is also an original end and aim ; 
 or clearer, i can, at least, execute no purpose which is 
 not demanded by an original impulse. It is, however, 
 quite well possible that I am conscious only of a part 
 of my original impulse as directed upon an object ; 
 in which case I also comprehend only part of the 
 purpose of the object; but if I comprehend my whole 
 impulse in its relation to an object, then i also com - 
 I ' preJiena tEe~~whoIe purpose or the final end of such 
 object. '"'"" ' ' .- 
 
 E. Let it be well considered what this may mean ; 
 I am to comprehend the totality o f my impulse. Every 
 toiahtv is^ completea, hence limitea. ihus" kir oiit^fflal'— 
 
 limitedness 0! 'tihe impuls e is asserted. 
 '^T^eTWTe'^o^eTTwever, that it is a limited ness of a n 
 inxpulse and not of an actual causality (a power to 
 reafize)!' that we speak here. Thus the assertion signifies, 
 that _the impulse, as original impulse, cannot cravfr certai n 
 
 things at ail 
 
 What sort of a limitedness might this be? By no 
 means one of the impulse in its fm'm, for as such it 
 craves, as we know, absolute self-sufi&eiency. But this 
 absolute self-sufficiency is an end which lies.in an infinity 
 and can never be attained, hence the impulse in itself 
 
222 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 cannot cease throughout all infinity. Where then can the 
 limitedness be ? It must evidently be a material limited- 
 ness : the impulse must not be able to crave certam thmgs 
 at all. 
 
 Ko w this limitedness is to be an original and necessar y 
 one : hence grounded in reason itself, and by no means 
 accidental and empirical. 
 
 But there is no other limitedness of reason through 
 itself than the one which results from the identical 
 proposition, that reason is to be reason, that the Ego is to 
 be Ego. Thus it would seem that the original limited - 
 ness of the impulse which is grounded in the Ego, is the 
 Timi^eSnes^wmchresults from the Egohood itself; anS 
 the impulse is comprehended in its totality, wherever 
 positively no limitedness thereof occurs beyond that 
 which results from the Egohood itself. 
 
 There can be no impulse in the Ego to cease to be Ego, 
 or to become non-Ego ; for if there were, the impulse of 
 the Ego would be to annihilate itself, which is con- 
 tradictory. But again, every limitedness of the impulse, 
 which does not result immediately from the Ego, is no 
 original limitedness, but simply a limitedness which we 
 have appended to ourselves through our imperfect re- 
 flection. We have contented ourselves with so much less 
 than we can demand. 
 
 In short, the impulse, viewed in its totality, craves the 
 absolute self-determination of an Ego as such. The con- 
 ceptions of Egohood and of absolute self-determination 
 are to be synthetically united, and through this synthesis 
 we shall receive the material content of the moral law. 
 I shall be a self-determined Ego ; thi s is my final 
 end an"cr aim : and whatsoever external things promote 
 this my self-sufficiency, to that use I am to put them : 
 such is thdr final end and aim . We have thus opened 
 to us an even way mto our investigation. We have only 
 to establish all the conditions of the Egohood as such, to 
 relate them to the impulse of self-determination, and" to 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 223 
 
 determine this impulse thereby. "When we have achieved 
 this, we shall have exhausted the content of the moral 
 law. 
 
 We now proceed to do so. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE BODY AS CONDITION OF THE MORAL CAUSALITY 
 ^'•*''"""^ OF THE EGO. 
 
 The reflecting Ego must find itself as Ego ; must, as it 
 were, be itself given to itself. In this respect we have 
 shown above, that it finds itself with an impulse, which 
 impulse, precisely because it is only found as given, and 
 evinces no self-activity in this finding, is posited as 
 natural impulse. 
 
 That which has been thus found, being the object of a 
 reflection, is necessarily a private and limited quantum. 
 If the natural impulse, w hich in itself is one, is separated 
 through free reflection in the before-described manner, 
 there arises a manifold of impulses, which, however, 
 being finite, must necessarily be a closed system of 
 manifold impulses. I cannot look upon these impulses 
 or this impulse as somethmfi foreign, b ui m ust relate it_^ 
 ^ myself and place it as an accidence in the same substance, 
 1 "which freely thinks and wills. 
 
 For although I must relate that impulse to myself, and 
 
 ^ posit it as w/y impulse, it yet, in a certain respect, remains 
 
 J objective to me, to me as thetn^ free and self-sutrmm t 
 
 \.kgo^ There results from the impulse a mere yearning , 
 
 which I can or can not satisfy, as i chooseTwIuSfflTfTere- 
 
 fore, in so far as I am free, remains always outside of 
 
 and under me ; in short, there results from it for me as 
 
 intelligence, only the knowledge that this determined 
 
 yearning is in me. As power, as motive, etc., it remains 
 
 foreign to me. Now if I determine myself through 
 
 freedom t o satisfy this yearning, it becomes mine in quite 
 
 aneitttsy ylymiicance. It is now mine in so far as I am 
 
224 THE SCIENCE OF ETHTCS. 
 
 free, and have appropriated it through freedom ; it is 
 assigned to me not only idecditer, through theoretical 
 cognition; lont ^ealiter, through self-determiaation. Even 
 on the standpoint of common consciousness 1' regard 
 myself as double, get iuto dispute with myself, enter into 
 judgment with myself, etc. 
 
 In the latter case I posit myself, and am solely tha t 
 as which I posit myseli. 'i'his holds good to sucn an 
 extent, tnat i do"naETr3ly appropriate as mine that 
 which I find in me in the first-mentioned respect, but 
 only that which I posit in me through self-determination. 
 Even in common life we distinguish very clearly between 
 that which Jjelongs to ^ our personality, and is ^ not ours 
 
 th^^^i^QUJi,ii^^^^^^7^'^rior^^tM^^g^^2^^^ 
 genius, etc., and that whidh we are through Ireedom; for 
 mstance, when the poet says: gemis, et proavi, et quae 
 non/ecimiis if si, vix ea NOSTRA "^Mifo. 
 
 Now that, which the original impulse demands, is 
 always, when I determiue myself to do it through free- 
 dom, to occur in experience. At present this case occurs. 
 The natural impulse belongs to the original impulse.. 
 'What will be the result, if 1 determine myself self- 
 actively to satisfy it? By answering this question we 
 shall make clearer the distinction just drawn. 
 
 The result of the natural impulse is a mere working of 
 nature, the causality of which nature is precisely at an 
 end in that impulse, which I posit as mine; but the 
 result of my self-determination is in truth my working, 
 is grounded in me as a free being. It wUl occur in 
 experience, signifies : I feel it as a tendency in nature to 
 exercise causality upon herself. 
 
 All my power and causality in nature is nothing but 
 the causality of nature (in me) upon herself (outside of 
 me). 
 
 Now my nature stands under the control of freedom, 
 and nothing can result through it without the direction 
 of the latter, In the plant, the nature of the plant 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 2'Z5 
 
 works immediately upon itself; but in me. nature ca n 
 only affect herself by passing through the mediation oJ: a ' 
 _yoluntarily-prodjaced conception . Previous to the self- 
 determining, all that which, on the part of nature, is 
 necessary to success has been given, it is true; but nature 
 in this region is not in itself sufficient to produce a 
 causality. That which, on the part of the subject, is 
 necessary to success has not been given previous to the 
 self-determining. The act of self-determining supplies 
 this, and now all that which is necessary for a causality is 
 complete. Self-determination fur nishes to thepowerof 
 my nature the reouisite princip le, namely, th e first motive 
 power, which nature lacks, and thus it is that the doing 
 of nature now becomes my doing , as actual Ego, which 
 has made itself to be that which it is. 
 
 This is the first and primary matter on which our 
 argumentation is based. It will be necessary, however, 
 to call attention to something else, which is already 
 known and proven. In consequence of the reflection, all 
 nature is posited necessarily as contained in and filling 
 up space, hence, as matter. Now, siace we have posited 
 the system of our natural impulses as product and part 
 of nature, we must necessarily posit it, likewise, as matter. . 
 It is thus that the system of our natural impulse becomes I 
 a material body. In this our body is contained, and con- ( 
 centrates itself, that working of nature, which, however, 
 has no causaUty in itself. But it has causality immedi- 
 ately, in consequence of our will, and thus our will 
 becomes immediate cause in our body. We only need to 
 will, and that which we will results iu the body. The 
 body is immediately completely in our power, and need 
 not first be subjected to our will like all other external 
 nature. Nature has placed the body alone in our power, 
 without any free co-operation of our own. 
 
 Our body has sensation, i.e., the natural impulse con- 
 centrated in it is necessarily posited as ours and appro- 
 priated by us, and we may satisfy, or not satisfy it, as we 
 Q 
 
226 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 choose. From this alone arises, as we have shown, the 
 whole system of our sensuous cognition. Again: the 
 body is placed in motion immediately through the will, 
 and has causality upon nature. Such a body, precisely 
 such a one, is condition of Egohood, since it results simply 
 frora self -reflection, which alone makes the Ego to be an 
 Ego. 
 
 We develop the further results. All possible acting is, in 
 its substance, an acting demanded through the natural im- 
 pulse. For all our acting occurs in nature, and is possible 
 and becomes actual for us in nature, but all external nature 
 exists for us only in consequence of the natural impulse. 
 The natural impulse appeals to me only through my 
 body, and is realized in the world outside of me only 
 through the causality of my body. The body is instru- 
 ment of all our perceptions, and hence, since all cognition 
 is based on perception, of all our cognition ; it is instru- 
 ment, likewise, of all in causality. This relation is a 
 condition of Egohood. The natural impulse is directed 
 upon conservation, culture, and the general well-being or 
 perfection of our body, as sure as it is an impulse and is 
 directed upon itself, for this impulse is itself our body in 
 its materialization. But the natural impulse goes no 
 further, for nature cannot rise above itself. Nature's end 
 is itself. Our nature h as o ur nature for its final end and 
 aim, but our nature is encircled in our body, and Tience, 
 our, as well as all, nature has only the body for its final 
 end and aim. 
 
 My highest impulse is to have absolute self-deDendencp, . 
 This I can approach only through acting, but I c an act 
 only through my body. Hence, the satisfying of that 
 impulse, or all morality, is conditioned through the pr^- 
 aervation and highest perfection of the bodj . On the 
 other hand, self-sufficiency, or morality, is to be the only 
 consciously posited object of my acting. Hence, I must 
 subordinate the former end to the latter, must jreserve 
 and cultivate my body solely as tool for moral acting and 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 227 
 
 not as end in itself. All care for my body must be 
 induced solely by the purpose to make it a proper tool for 
 morality, and to preserve it as such. " 
 
 We thus receive here three material moral comm ands. 
 
 1. The first one is negative m its character : ourTbdy I 
 
 must never be locateda^nd in itself, or must never 
 
 "become object of an enjoyment for the 6ere enjoyment' s 
 sake. — ■*-"— a^ai, 
 
 2. The second is a positiv e command: the body is to 
 be cultivated as much as possible for all possible pur poses 
 6f ireedom. (To kill o ff sentiments and desires , or to dulf 
 our ge neral -powers, is absolutely against duty.) "' 
 
 3. The third a limitativ e command : all enjoyment 
 which may not , with cleare"St conviction, be related to the 
 development, o f p ur body, for moral aims, is not permit 
 and in violation of the moral law. it is absomtel^m^ 
 moral to take care of our body without the conviction 
 that it is thus cultured and preserved for moral activity, 
 or, in short, for conscience' sake. Eat and drink for the 
 
 of God . If anyone thinks this morality to be 
 austere and painful, we cannot help him, for there is no 
 
 By this established condition of Egohood the caus- 
 ality o f the Ego, which the moral law requires, is con- 
 ditioned. We make this remark to show the progress 
 of the method. It will appear that there is a second 
 condition of Egohood, namely, a _ condit ion of the su b- 
 stantiality of the subject of morality ; and that there is a 
 third condition, which requires a certain necessary reci- 
 procity in this subject; and thus we shall complete the 
 ' external proof that all the conditions of Egohood have 
 been exhausted. The internal proof appears from the 
 systematic connection of what is to be established. 
 
228 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE INTELLIGENCE AS CONDITION OF THE MORAL 
 SUBSTANTIALITY OF THE EGO. 
 
 The Ego must find itself as Ego: such was the assertion, 
 from which our last mvestigation took its startmg- point. 
 The present one starts from the same statement, but with 
 this distinction, that, whereas, in the former we con- 
 sidered the passivity of the Ego in that reflection of itself, 
 or the object of the reflection, we now view the activity 
 of the Ego in it, or the subject of the reflection. An 
 Ego must have a power of reflection, in order to 
 reproduce the given internally through freedom i n a 
 conception! The activity of the' Ego, in this respect, we 
 i have calle d ideal activity . It is at once clear that this 
 activity is a condition of Egohood. The Ego is necessarily 
 intelligence. 
 
 ^TBo^^he impulse to be self-determined, or the moral • 
 law related, to this condition of Egohood ? 
 
 The jonral law appeals to the intelligence as such . 
 Consciously, and with mature reflection, am I to approach 
 self-determination. A ^ .moiaL.law exists onlv in so far 
 as I am intelligence, in so far a g I adopt it as my law , and" 
 make it the rule of my action. The intelligence, therefore, 
 conditions the whole being, the substantiality, of the moral 
 law ; and not merely, like the body, the causality thereof. 
 Only when, and in so far as I am intellig ence is th^re 
 a moral la w: the latter extends no further than the former, 
 and the forirfer is the vehicle of the ifalffier. Hence^' 
 a material subordination of the intelligence to the^rno ral 
 jaw^uch as of the natural impulse to the moral lawj, 
 I isnor possible . I must not wish not to know something, 
 \ for fear it migfet be against my duty ; as I, certainly, must 
 not give way to many inclinations or lusts of the body, 
 from the same fear. 
 
 Self-determinedness (morality) is our highest purpose. 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 229 
 
 The oretic a l cognition is, therefore, to be formalite r 
 s'uEo>-dinaE'ecrto"'4B|£ " fKat "Is'lo say, the final enK 
 and aim of all my cognition, of all my thinking and 
 investigating, must be cognition of my duty. 
 
 From this result the following three moral laws : 
 I. The first one, negative : Never subordinate your 
 theoretical reason as such, but investigate" with ahsi^ute 
 freedom, and without regard to anything outside of vour" 
 cognition. (Do not, in advance, resolve upon an end 
 which you would like to arrive at in theory : for wher e , 
 c ould you get this end. ?) " ^ — — - 
 
 "' 2. The second, positive : jJultivate your power of cogni - 
 tion a s much as you can ; learn, think, and investigate as 
 much as you possibly can. 
 
 3. The third, Hmitation : Eelate all your thinking 
 formaliter to your duty. In all your thinking be clearly 
 conscious of this purpose. Investigate from duty, and not 
 from mere curiosity or in order to employ your mind. 
 Do not regulate your thoughts so as to find this or that to 
 be your duty — for how could you recognize your duty 
 in advance of your cognition ? — but always merely with 
 the view of recognizing what your duty is. 
 
 III. 
 
 INDIVIDUALITY AS CONDITION OF THE EGOHOOD. 
 
 In ou r Science of Rights the proof has already been 
 established that the Ego caii onl;^ posi^^ 
 Hence, the consciousness of indiyidu ality is a condition 
 of Egohood . But, inasmuch as the science of morality 
 is higher than any other particular philosophical science, 
 we must here est ablish that proof from a higher 
 
 principle. 
 
 f ' 
 
 A. Whatsoever is object of a reflection is necessar y 
 limited, and becomes limited by merely being sucn obect. 
 The Ego is to become object of a reflection. Hence, it is 
 
i 
 
 230 TNE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 necessarily limited. Now, the Ego is characterized through 
 a free activity as such, and hence, the free activity must 
 also be limited. Free activity is limited signifies: a 
 quantum t.hp.rqnf , k opposited to free activity in pceneral, 
 and, in so far, to other free activity . In short, the Ego 
 cannot, by any manner of means, ascribe free activity 
 to itself without this free activity being a quantum, and 
 hence, without, at the same time and immediately together 
 with that thinking, positing another free activity which, 
 in so far, does not belong to it. 
 
 B. This would of itself lead to no result respecting 
 individuality, since it is very possible that the Ego may 
 posit that free activity outside of its own, through mere 
 ideal activity, as a purely ^ossifi^e activity ; as, indeed, very 
 often happens in actual consciousness. "Whenever I ascribe 
 ,aiLa£t Jo myself I thereby deny that act to a ll other fre e 
 bein^sT w hich ars bnwfivp.r^ not determined^ but merely 
 p ossible fre e beings,. 
 
 C. But the following is decisive : Originally, I cannot 
 determine myself through free ideal activity, but must 
 M d myself as determined object: and, smce 1 am itso 
 only m so far as I am free, I must'^m^nysel^free, must 
 be given to myself as free : curious as this may appear 
 at first, lor i can posit something as possible only in 
 opposition to something already known to me as actual. 
 All mere possibility is based upon abstraction fr om 
 known "actuality. AlF consciousness proceeds from an 
 
 actually' — tins 'is an im-portant proposition of a real 
 philosophy; and hence, likewise, the consciousness of 
 freedom. 
 
 "We add the following to promote insight into our 
 method and conviction : I find myself as obj ect, signified 
 above ; I find myself as natural impulse, as product and 
 part of nature. That I must reflect, or must be intelli- 
 g'ence in order to find this, is understood; but this 
 
The morality of our actions. 231 
 
 reflection, when it occurs, does not enter consciousness; 
 in fact, it does not enter consciousness at all without 
 a new reilection directed upon it. Now I am to ascribe 
 that natural impulse to myself, nay, as we have seen in 
 § I., I am to posit it, as something which, although it 
 appertains to me, yet does not constitute essentially 
 myself. Which, then, is this I to whom J am to ascribe 
 
 ,the natural impulse ? The substantial, true Ego. Not 
 the intelligence as such, as we have just shown, but 
 rather th e free, active Ego. As sure, therefore, as I am 
 to find myseii as natural product, I must also find 
 myself as free active, for otherwise the first finding 
 is not possible. The former is determined through the 
 latter. I am to find myself generally, and hence I 
 must also find myself as free active. What may this 
 signify, and how is it possible ? 
 
 Firstly, the jeal, true self - determination through 
 spontaneity T c!^,nnot find as given to me ; I must give 
 ittomjggjif . I can, therefore, find a certain self- 
 d ete rminatipn onl y through ideal activity ; through 
 reproducin p j on e which exists already mclependently of 
 me. But my self-determination exists without my 
 co-operation signifies : it exists as a conception ; or, in 
 short : an appeal i s addressed to me to " cTetermine 
 myself . '"As^ure^as' 1 understand this appeal, 1 also 
 think my self-determination as something given in that 
 appeal, and thus am given to myself as free in the 
 conception of that appeal. 
 
 As sure as I comprehend this appeal, I ascribe to 
 
 ^^ myself a determined sph ere for my freedom ; no matter" 
 whether I use and fill it up or not. If i do not com- 
 prehend it, then there arises no consciousness ; I do not 
 find myself as yet, but will find myself at another 
 time perhaps, although all the conditions of my finding 
 myself exist already. For since I am free, even the 
 existence of all the conditions of my finding myself 
 as free, cannot compel me thus to find myself in 
 
232 THE SCIENCE Ofi ETHICS. 
 
 reflection ; to make this reflection absolute spontaneity 
 on my part is requisite. On the other hand, unless 
 air these conditions were given, it could not make the 
 reflection in spite of all spontaneity. 
 
 ! D. Thi s requirement, or appeal, addressed to me to be 
 self-active7 I cannot comprehend without ascrildng it_ 
 
 1 to an actual being outside of me, which intended to 
 
 I' " . ■ ■» — - - . .. K> ^ „ r„ «! -^ «— '-'■'•• — "< »i.i . I I M m ^.^ 1 , II . . I . 
 
 comnuaaicatg to me_ _such a . conception i_, and which is 
 
 therefore capable of a conception of the conception. 
 
 But such a being is a rational. being, a being positing 
 
 itself as Ego, hence an 1j]^o. (This furnishes the only 
 
 sufficient ground for concluding the existence of a 
 
 rational cause outside of us; and such ground is not 
 
 furnished merely by the comprehension of the influence 
 
 exerted upon us, for that comprehension is always 
 
 possible. [See Science of Bights.} It is a, condition o f 
 
 self - co nsciousneas. of Egohood . to assume an actual 
 
 , I, I ' ' " ^ " ' 
 
 rational being outside of myself.) 
 
 This rational being I opposit" to myself, and myself 
 to it ; that is to say, I posit myself as individual in 
 relation to it, and it an individual in relation to me. 
 Hence it is condition of Egohood to posit itself as 
 individual. 
 
 E. Hence it may be strictly d priori proven that a 
 
 rational being does not become rational in an isolated 
 
 l condition, but that at least one other individual outside 
 
 Inf it-, Tniii'^fi h° °"°"TT^pd |-,|ir ough whjch it might elevate 
 
 litself to freedom. But further influences, and more 
 
 than one other individual, cannot be thus proven, as we 
 
 shall soon see more closely. 
 
 From what we have here deduced, however, there 
 follows already a limitation of the impulse to be self- 
 determined, and hence a further determination of 
 morality, which we shall state at once. Namely, my 
 Egohood and self-sufficiency generally is conditioned 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 233 
 
 I through the freedom of the other individual; hence my 
 cravin g after self-determination cannot possib ly have^ for "~ 
 "its object to annihilate the condition of its own po ssi- 
 lility; nam ely, the freedom of the nt.hp.y Now I 'am 
 absolutely only to act in obedience to this impulse of 
 self-determination, and in obedience to no other impulse. 
 Hence the present limitation of this impulse involyes 
 the absolute prohibition to disturb the freedom of the 
 other; and the absolute command to consider the other 
 as self-sufficient, and never to use him as means. (The 
 natural impulse was subordinated to the self- determining 
 impulse. The theoretical power is not subordinated to 
 it materiuliter ; but neither is it to the theoretical power. 
 But it is subordinate to the freedom of the other. I 
 must not be. se1 /,-, ( ^q termined at the expense of tne' ~ 
 itreedom of others.) 
 
 F. Through my positing even but this one other indi- 
 vidual outside of me, some of aU my possible free acts 
 have become impossible for me ; namely, all those which 
 condition the freedom ascribed by me to the other. 
 But even in the progress of acting I must always 
 choose some from all that which is possible to me, 
 in consequence of my freedom. iJ^ow, according to 
 our presupposition, that which I do not choose, 
 which my freedom excludes from my actions, is taken 
 possession of not through actual, but at least through , 
 possible, individuals ; and under this presupposition I i 
 determine my individuality still further through each | 
 act. 
 
 (An important conception, concerning which I explain 
 myself still clearer, since it removes a very great diffi- 
 culty in the doctrine of freedom.) 
 
 "Wh o am I i n traJiLL-J^iiaJi-isJa-SaZi. what individual 
 am 1 Y And what is the ground, why i am tfits mdi- 
 viduai' and none other ? I reply : From the moment that 
 I have arrived at consciousness / am that individual 
 
234 THE SCIENCE OF ETHlCS. ' 
 
 which I make mysdf to he with freedom, and I am i t 
 because I make myself it 
 
 "'TT'eadbmomSitor'my existence my being is — if not 
 in its conditions, at least in its final determination — a 
 being through freedom. Through this being again is 
 limited the possibility of my being in the future moment 
 (that is to say, being such in the present moment, I 
 cannot be certain things in the future moment) ; but 
 which amongst all still possible things in the future I 
 choose to be, depends again upon my freedom. But all 
 this determines my individuality; all this makes me 
 materialiter the one who I am. 
 
 But it is only under the present presupposition that 
 there is only one individual outside of me, and that only 
 one free influence is directed upon me, that the first 
 condition, which might be called the root of my indi- 
 viduality, is not determined through my freedom, but 
 through my connection with another rational being ; 
 whereas all following conditions depend absolutely upon - 
 my freedom. In each future moment I must select 
 amongst many acts, but there is no external ground 
 why T should not select every other amongst all possible 
 acts. 
 
 G. But there may be m,any individuals outside of me 
 that influence me. A priori, as we have seen, we cannot 
 prove that this must be so ; but we, at least, owe the proof 
 that it can be so. 
 
 The essence of freedom itself compels me, as we have 
 seen, to limit myself in each free act, and hence to leave 
 , to other .ppssible free beings the possibility also to" act 
 free . Nothing prevents these free 'beings from actually 
 existing. They can exist, so it appears at least at present, 
 without detriment to my freedom, which must, as we 
 have seen, be anyhow limited. 
 
 But can • ^ fi^ ^^ J i ave a ct ual eristence for me. i.e., can 
 I perceive 5iem as actually existing, and how ? This 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 235 
 
 question might be easily answered, according to the 
 above principles, as follows: they ca n influence me as 
 free bein g g^ influenc e f£ge _bgin£s. by requiring jne to be' 
 f reely a ctive-^ ™"^ 
 
 But it is not at all necessary that they should im- 
 mediately influence me. They may merely influence 
 nature, and yet I will be able to conclude from the 
 manner of the influence as to the existence of a rational 
 being, now that I have the concep tion of actual rational, 
 leings outside of me^ Originally this conclusion would 
 have been impossible for me. The mode of influencing 
 nature here mentioned, is that mode through which a 
 ~ work of art is produced. Such a work evinces a con - 
 ception of a conception, which we have shown to fee 
 tiie criterion ot reason. For the end a nd aim of the 
 product of art lie s not, as in t he product of na.tuxe. in 
 itselt, but oirtside d'f'itseil:. It is always tool, or means 
 for an end. its conception is something which is not 
 involved in the mere contemplation, but can only be 
 thought : hence a mere conception. But whosoever 
 produced the work of art, necessarily thought the con- 
 ception he intended to represent; hence he had necessarily 
 a conception of a conception. As sure as I recognize 
 something to be a product of art, I necessarily posit an 
 actually existing rational being as its originator. It is 
 not thus with a product of nature. True, there is a 
 conception; but you cannot show up a conception of a 
 conception, unless, perhaps, you presuppose it in a world 
 creator. 
 
 I have said "as sure as I recognize it as a product 
 of art." But this itself is only possible on condition 
 that I think already a reason outside of me ; and this 
 latter assumption does not proceed from the perception 
 of product of art — which would be a circle of explanation 
 — but from the above described requirement or appeal 
 to free activity. 
 
 It is thus on the standpoint of common consciousness. 
 
236 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 upon which perception in us is explained through the 
 existence of things outside of us. But that which is 
 assumed on the standpoint of common, consciousness 
 must itself be explained from the transcendental point 
 of view; on which it is not permitted to proceed from 
 the assumption of anything external, but on which that 
 which is said to be external to us must first be explained 
 from something in ourselves. Hence the higher question 
 is to be answered: |iow do we come to assume products 
 °f art outsid e ofus? 
 
 W hatsoever is held to be outside of us, is posited 
 through a limitation of the impulse. It is the same with 
 the art-product, in so far as it is object. But whence 
 comes the particular determination of it, that it is posited 
 as art-product ? This leads us to infer a special, peculiar 
 limitation of the impulse. Let me say it concisely : 
 through the object in general our being is limited ; or 
 better : from thfi-Iimitation of our heinq we as sume an 
 object in general: but the impulse may desire a modi - 
 fication of the object. In the present instance, however, 
 tnere is not merel y a limitation of our heing , but also 
 of.(ffl.r & eco»mw,:^, TO acting repelL'ed iiiternally; 
 
 there is even a l imitation of our desire to acjit^^ and hence 
 we assume freeoLom outside of us. (Mr. _^hellin£ ex- 
 presses this excellently in the PMlosopnMcaJournal, 
 vol. iv. page 281 : " Wherever my moral power finds 
 
 resistance, there cannot be mere tiMure. Shudderingly 
 1 1 stop. ' Here is man ! ' speaks a voice to me. I miiM 
 [not go furtner.'; 
 
 'i'iiis can Happen, as we have seen. If it does happen, 
 I am still further limited than through mere Egohood; 
 for it was not involved in the conception of Egohood, 
 as we have seen. If it does happen, I am no longer a 
 mere rational being in general, which I could be if there 
 existed only one other individual outside of me, and if he 
 had only uttered himself once in relation to me ; bu t I am 
 a particular rational being. It is this particular limited- 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 237 
 
 ness which cannot be d 'priori deduced from the general 
 limitedness, since in that case it were not a particular 
 one. U^ on it is based the purely emyirical. which in 
 its possibility, however, must also be grounded d priori. 
 Nevertheless this limitedness is an original one. Let it 
 not be supposed, therefore, that it originates in time. 
 How, nevertheless, in a certain respect, it does arise in 
 time, we shall immediately see. 
 
 The result of the above proposition is this: Individuality 
 may also in its progress be determined througiTsome thing" 
 else than freedom , namely, through original limitednessf 
 which, however, cannot be deduced, but being a particular 
 limitedness is in this respect accidental for us on the 
 standpoint of experience. 
 
 It may be thus : With this, philosophy must content 
 itself; and in treating a science which is influenced by 
 this presupposition, philosophy must always establish 
 the results derived from it as conditioned propositions. 
 Such a science is the science of morality, and hence the 
 material part of this science contains something con- 
 ditioned. If_^we give up our claim to pure philosophy, 
 and place ourselves on the standpoint of facts, we can, 
 of course, say: it is so. For instance, I can and mus t 
 not be and become everything, since there are othe rs who 
 "are also free . Jjut on the standpoint of pure phiiosopny, 
 HEis^and others always remain conditioned propositions . 
 
 "Originally I am limited not merely formaliter through 
 the Egohood, but likewise materialiter through something 
 which does not necessarily belong to Egohood. There 
 are certain points beyond which I am not to go even 
 with my freedom, and this Tion-shalling evinces itself in 
 me imm ediately. I expIaT^t!ies^pSnt5*T(? me through 
 ^ the existence of other free beings a nd their tree ettects 
 m my sensuous world. ""^^^^ 
 
238 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 H. But this theory seems to have enveloped us in a 
 contradiction , and led us to very dangerous results. I 
 will enter upon their discussion, partly to promote 
 clearness, and partly because it decides a difficult philo- 
 sophical dispute, and places the doctrine of freedom, 
 which is all-important in a science of morality, in the 
 complete light. 
 
 The free acts of others are originally to lie within me 
 as the limitative points of my individuality. They are, 
 therefore, to make use of this popular expression, pre- 
 destined from all eternity, and are not determined in time. 
 But does not this cancel my freedom ? By no means, if 
 it is not at the same time predestined how I shall react 
 upon those free acts ; and the freedom of choice amongst 
 all possible acts remains always mine, as we have fully 
 established. But let us rise to a higher point. The other 
 beings in the sensuous world, upon whom / act, are also 
 rational beings, and the perception of my influence upon 
 them is predestined for them, as for me the perception of 
 their influence upon me is predestined, for me, my acts 
 are not predetermined, I perceiving them as tne result 
 of my absolute self-determination^ but for ail others, who 
 live together _with me. they are predetermined, and, in 
 
 like manner, do their acts appear tn t.heTn self-determined. 
 
 and to me predetermined. Hence, my free actions are 
 
 I certainly predestined. But how ca n freedom co- exist 
 with this ? 
 
 The matter stands thus: predetermination cannot be 
 dropped, for if we drop it, the reciprocal relation of 
 rational beings, and hence, those rational beings them- 
 selves, remain inexplicable ; but neither can we abandon 
 freedom, for if we do, free or rational beings cease 
 to be. 
 
 The solution is not difficult. For me (I shall say so at 
 present, in order to be but able to express myself, although 
 an important remark will have to be made respecting it), 
 for me, all the influences of free beings are a vriori deter- 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 239 
 
 mined. _ But let us recollect what d "pi-iori signifies. 
 A priori is no time and no succession, no one after another, 
 but everything simultaneously (an improper but necessary 
 
 ail 
 
 e xpressigi^ Hence, it is not at ail determmea now i 
 cause the events to follow each other in time, how I 
 connect this series with that other determined individual 
 series, &c. What I am to experience in my life^J s 
 determined, but not from whom . The others outside of 
 me remain free. 
 
 In the same manner, it is certainly determined for 
 others what influences of other free beings are to be 
 directed upon them, and hence, likewise, those influences 
 which I have exerted upon them were predetermined; 
 but it was not predestined, by any means, that I, the 
 individual which had these and those original determina- 
 tions, should exercise these influences. If another one 
 exerted them before I did, I did not exert them, and if 
 I did not exert them, perhaps another one exerted them 
 after me, or if they exerted it in their own freedom, 
 to be that which I am, no one exerted such influence 
 upon them. Who am I then, after all ? We repeat 
 again : I am only that which I make myself to be. I 
 have now acted so or so far, and hence, I am the in- 
 dividual to, whom appertain the acts a, b, c, &c. Prom 
 c, again, an infinity of predestined acts stretch out before 
 me, from which I can choose. The possibility and reality 
 of aU these acts is predestined, but, by no means, that 
 precisely the one which I now choose should follow the 
 series a, h, c, which constitutes now my individuality, 
 and so on ad infinitum. There are first determined 
 points of individuality, and from each of these there 
 stretch out an infinity, and it depends altogether upon its 
 own freedom which of all the still possible individuals it 
 becomes. 
 
 My assertion, therefore, is this : ^11 free acts are pre - 
 destined from aU eternity, i.e., outside o f ail timeT through 
 reason, and each free individual is placea in narmony with , 
 
240 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 ^(|lP°° flf ts in respect to perception. For the totality of 
 reason there extends an mnnite manifold of freedom and 
 perception, and all individuals share in it, as it were. 
 But the succession and content of time is not predestined. 
 Irom the sutncient reason that time is not somethjng 
 eternal and pure, but merely a form of the contemp latioa_ 
 
 _of Unite beings, namely, the time in which something is 
 to occur: neither are the actors predestined. And thus, 
 by a little attention, the apparently unanswerable question 
 has dissolved of its own accord : jjredet er mination and 
 freedom are completely united. 
 
 The difficulties which might stiU seem to linger here 
 are based on the fundamental defect of dogmatism, which 
 makes all being primary and original, and hence, sepa- 
 rates being and acting — if it does recognize acting at all 
 — altogether from each other, giving to an individual his 
 whole being independently of his acting. By this pro- 
 cedure, if one thinks determinedly enough, all., freedom 
 and all real acting are certainly cancelled. No man in 
 
 ^the world can ad otherwise than he does act, althcmgh, 
 perhaps, he acts badly, being the man he is. There is 
 nothing truer than this proposition, which is, in fact, 
 merely an identical proposition. But he ought not to be 
 this man , and could be quite ai^f^^ jt jipr man: nav. tli&re 
 ought not to he such a man in the world at all. 
 
 Nevertheless, it is said: that a person is such a 
 person as it is even before it is born, that its relations 
 and fate, from the day of its birth to its death, are. pre- 
 destined, only not its actions. Bu t what is our fate, and 
 what are our relations in life, otherwise than the ob-jective 
 view of our acting ? If our actions denend upo^n our ' 
 
 rely so does our fate. I a m only what I act . 
 Now, if I think myself in tiliie, 1 am, in a certain 
 respect, not determined until I have acted in this respect. 
 True, he who cannot cure himself of the fundamental 
 evil of dogmatism cannot see into the theory of freedom. 
 
CHAPTER HI. 
 
 ABSOLUTE HARMONY OF ALL EATIONAL B KIN GS AS 
 CONDITION OF MORALITY. 
 
 I 
 
 Self-sufficiency, our final end and aim, consists, as we 
 have often said, in this, that everything is dependent upon 
 me, and I not dependent upon anything; that in my 
 whole sensuous world that which I will happens simpl y 
 heca,usp. I will j|, Tiref.iselv a.s ia t.hp. nasp ir. my hnrly 
 
 (the beginning point of my absolute causality. The world 
 must become for me._gJiaJL-ms_bD.dv is. True. JJiis objec t 
 is unattainabl e, but I shall always endeavour to approach 
 ""ll^^fflTnence shall always treat everything in the 
 sensuous world, so as to make it a means for this final end 
 and aim. ^hi^ggroachin^^m^ea^nd. 
 
 It is no hindrance to inyfreeaom^naO was set down 
 upon a certain point by nature, and tha t nature thus, as it 
 .^yjg^Jgg^Jh^^jgt^Jg^fo^m^OT^hismywa^nto 
 J^jjj^. N"or does it interfere with my freedomTthat 
 a t the very commence ment there was given to me a 
 sphere ior my possihTe'p atli o r fffigBTM'ffii-ough anotBgr 
 fa±ir} |^a, | ^ i|j,fiiTij{„ ou tside ot me ; tor only thus do i attain 
 freedom, and before I have freedom my freedom cannot 
 be interfered with. Nor does it hinder my freedom, if 
 I am forced to assume still other free and rational beings 
 outside of me, for their freedom and rationality, as such, 
 is not an object of perception, which might limit me, but 
 is altogether a spiritual conception. Finally it is no 
 
242 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 curtailing of my freedom, if I must choose amongst 
 many possible acts ; for such a choice is the condition of 
 the consciousness of my freedom, and hence conditions 
 . that freedom itself. Moreover, the matter of the choice 
 . is always under my control, because all possible free 
 modes of acting are under my control ; and even if other 
 free beings should then choose amongst those possible 
 acts which I did not choose, this would not limit my self- 
 suf&cieney. They would not limit me thereby, but 1 
 them. 
 
 If, however, in accordance with our last presupposition, 
 and with general experience, that which falls within 
 my path and into the world of my experience should 
 already be modified through free beings outside of me ; in 
 that case my freedom is certainly checked, if I may 
 no longer modify this object myself according to my pur- 
 pose; and we have seen that the moral law absolutely 
 forbids my doing so. I am not to disturb the freedom of 
 rational beings. But if I change the products of their 
 freedom I disturb their freedom itself ; for those products 
 are to them means for other purposes, and if I take away 
 from them these means they cannot continue their 
 ^ causality in accordance with their first purpose. 
 
 Here ,we therefore seem to have hit upon a contradicti on 
 of the impidse of self -determination, and hence ot' the 
 moral law with itself. The moral law requ ires Ci) that I 
 should subject whatsoever limits : or. which is the same, 
 whatsoever lies in my sensual world, to my abso lute 
 end and aim ; that i shoufS make it a means to draw 
 nearer to absolute self-sufficiency. 
 
 (2) That I should not ■■subject certain things^ whic h 
 limit m ^i nr "'^^"''" irr in ^'^ piOTi suous world, fa) my 
 absflhijjp ^ end-purpos e, but should leave them as I find 
 them. 
 
 Both are immediate commands of the moral law; 
 the first, when we consider this law generally ; and the 
 second, when we consider it in a particular manifestation. 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 243 
 
 II. 
 
 The contradiction can be solved, and the harmony 
 
 tof the moral law with itself can be restored only. iL 
 we presuppose that all fre,e. beinas have necessarily the 
 same dual md and aim,.^ If this is so, then the end of the 
 one individual is at the same time the end of the other ; 
 and the liberation of one from dpr)endence the liberatio n 
 ftf "^^ ntillfirP Is this so? Since everything — parti- 
 cularly everything to us, namely, the peculiar char- 
 acteristic of our science of morahty — depends upon 
 the answering of this question, we shall discuss it more 
 thoroughly. 
 
 The impulse to be self-sufficient is an impulse of 
 Egohood, and has only Egohood for its end; the Ego alone 
 is to be the subject of self-sufficiency. Now it is certainly, 
 as we have seen, involved in Egohood, that each Ego 
 should be an individual, but only an individual in general, 
 and not this particular individual A, B, 0, &c. Since all 
 the determinations, except the original and first one of 
 our individuality, depend upon our freedom, as we have 
 seen that A, B, &c., can only signify to me the original 
 limitation of freedom ; or, what we have called above, the 
 root of all individuality. Hence since it is accidental 
 to the Egohood in general, that J, the individual A, am 
 precisely this A, and since the impulse of self-sufficiency 
 is to be an impulse of the Egohood in general, as such,, 
 this impulse certainly does not crave the self-sufficiency 
 of the particular individual A, but of reason in general. 
 The self-sufficiency of reason as such, is our ultimate 
 purpose ; and hence not the self-sufficiency of our reason, 
 in so far as it is an individual reason. 
 
 But I, this A, am so far as I am concerned, only in 
 so far as I am A. Hence A is my empirical self ; and 
 only it becomes conscious of that impulse and that law of 
 consciousness. Only through A can I work in obedience 
 to the moral law, since I can only work through^A at all. 
 
244 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 A is for me, the exclusive condition of the causality 
 of this moral impulse. In one word, A is not ohjid, but 
 A is for me the only tool and vehicle of the moral law. 
 At first only the body was such tool, but now it is 
 the whole sensuous empirically determined man ; and thus 
 we have here for once separated the empirical and the 
 pure Ego in the strictest manner, which is very important 
 for all philosophy, and particularly for the science of 
 morals. 
 
 If the impulse nf self-sufficiency paveg the self- 
 sufficiency of reasmi in general, and if tnis self- 
 sufficiency can only be represented in the individuals 
 A, B, C, &c., and through them; then it is necessarily 
 altogether indifferent to me. w hether A, or B, or C 
 represents i^ ^for. since all belong eauallv toTne^one 
 unctividea empire of reason, it is always reason in general 
 which is represented, and hence my impulse is always 
 \ satisfied. I desire morality in general wi thi n or outsid e 
 I of me ; this is ail the same. 1 desire it ot myseit only, 
 in so far as icappertamst o me ' arid " (tf " Others m so f ar 
 ■ as ■ilt^lJe'ifl'A'SliS'To themi'm v end Is attained eauallv in the 
 one or the other manner. 
 
 My end is attained, if the other a.p.tH m.nrnlhi But he 
 is free, and through freedom may also act immorally. In 
 the latter case my end is not attained. Have I not then 
 the r ight and the o bligation to destroy the effect of hj s 
 Jreedom ? 1 do not appeal to the above negative pro- 
 position, but deduce it here anew and thoroughly, since 
 this is the proper place for doing so. Eeason is to be 
 self-sufficient, but reason appeals with this demand to 
 the determined individual B, C, &c,, and there is no such 
 demand at all, nor any (material) self-sufficiency in fact, 
 except by means of the formal freedom of all individuals. 
 Hence the latter is exclusive condition of all causality of 
 reason in general. If it is cancelled, all causality, and 
 hence also the causality to be self-sufficient, is cancelled. 
 Hence everyone who wills the latter must also will the 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 245 
 
 former. Freedom is absolute condition of all morality, 
 and without it no morality is at all possible. Thus the 
 absolute prohibition of the moral law becomes confirmed, 
 that the freedom of the free being must under no con- 
 dition, and under no pretext, be disturbed or cancelled. 
 But this leaves the contradiction unsolved, and we can 
 say also: I desire, and can only desire, that the other 
 should be free, on condition that he uses his freedom to 
 promote the end of reason, and otherwise I cannot desire 
 him free at all. In other words, while the freedom of 
 the other must on no account be disturbed, _I_jaiist 
 absolutel y desir e to cancel an y use ma de of freedom 
 to cancel the moral law, a nd unless 1 do so desire, the 
 wish that the moral law should reign supreme, is not 
 controlling me. 
 
 Here Hkewise there arises the further question : What 
 exercise of freedom is in violation of the moral law, and 
 who can be the universally valid judge thereof ? If the 
 other asserts that he has acted in acc ordance with, his ~ 
 best conviction, whiisii I act under the^same circumstanc gs 
 differently, he is as c onvinced that /act immorally, as I 
 am cQj ud Tifprl that he acts I'mmorall fr*" vv nose conviction 
 is now to be the rule ? Neither, so long as both are in 
 dispute, for each is to act solely according to Ms con- 
 viction, and therein consists the formal condition of all 
 morality. Can we then separate, and allow each t^e 
 other to p ursue his own course? ADsolutely not, UB j^ess 
 we crimm aiiy renounce all ourinteresnFoF^ii lVj^kl 
 'mofaIi^^OEfi^^^SS3a30§I^S^^i6nS?w'en!u'st 
 
 endeavour to make our judgment agree. Of course, so 
 long as each one acts at all conscientiously, each one will 
 presuppose that his own opinion is the correct one, for 
 otherwise he must have acted immorally in following it, 
 and hence each one will endeavour to convince the other, 
 and not to be convinced by the other. But in doing this, 
 since all reason is the same, the y must finally after aU. 
 arrive at the same result; ann until then it is the 
 
246 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 absolute duty of each to respect the eternal freedom of 
 th e other. Each can and must only desire to "det er^ 
 m ine the conviction of the ot her, but not to physicaiiy 
 mffuence i^^rrff^tirst moae is ttie only permitted, way 
 by which free beings may exercise compulsion upon free 
 beings. 
 
 We shall examine this matter more carefully. 
 
 III. 
 
 A. The final moral end of each rational being is, as we 
 have seen, the self-sufficiency of reason in general, and 
 hence the morality of all rational being s. We must all 
 act in the same manner. Hence Jiant's proposition : 
 " Act insucha manner, that the maxim ot your wilLaaP 
 
 i ^ iii ww^ii i i ^w^^**'"*— iMwawi^il— l a Bfe l li M lii m i i ii i i . ii j twiyi^j— WHM— Mwailyii i Miii > il w i * i ""y ' " . 
 
 he trl^ip yfrht hvLvou a.s„the principle of a universal leg is- 
 latioall StUl the following is to be observed in regard 
 to Kant's standpoint: Kant speaks only of the idea o f 
 a harmony, but not of STr eaZ. _actual harmony . We shall 
 show,~orf'6ur part, that this idea has real use, .thaJL^we 
 must try to realize it, and must in part act as if it were 
 realized. Moreover, in Kan t's shape, t he proposition is_ 
 merely heuristic , i.e., I can use it very well for the 
 purpose of examining whether I have erred in judging 
 my duty ; but on -no aceouat is it constitu tive. It is, in 
 fact, not a principle which Kant enuncia^. but m^ relv 
 t he result oi a true principle, namely, of the absolu te 
 ii^-s ufficiency ot re asoS^Jlieinference^^s not stand 
 in Kant: because something can be principle of a universal 
 legislation, therefore it ought to be maxim of my will ; 
 but the very contrary, namely, because something is to 
 be a maxim of my will, therefore it can also be t he 
 principle ot a universal legislation. The judgment proceeds 
 from me, as is indeecRlBarii^Sit's proposition ; for who 
 judges whether something can be principle of a universal 
 legislation? Doubtless I myself. But according to what 
 principles do I form this judgment ? Undoubtedly accord- 
 
 m 
 
 (fai 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 247 
 
 ing to those which my own reason holds. Kant's pro- 
 position has, however, a heuristic use, namely, a 
 proposition, which results in an absurdity, is false. Now 
 it is absurd that I, X, ought to do that, which I canno t 
 think that .all others ou^ht likewise to do under ^ The 
 same circumstances'; and hence, li:' 1! cannot think this. I, 
 X, ought certainly not to do it either, and have most 
 certainly made a mistake in concluding that I ought to 
 do it. 
 
 B. Each one is to produce absolute harmony w ith him- 
 self in all others outside of him, for oniy -on 'conditio n 
 of this harmon y is he himself free and independ ent. 
 First of all, therefore, each one shall live in a cominu5ffiy^ 
 
 for otherwise he cannot produce harmony with himse: 
 as is absolutely commanded. VTOosoeverseparates him- 
 self from mankind, renounces his final end and aim, and 
 holds the extension of morality to be utterly indifferent. 
 Whosoever wants to take care only of himself, even in a 
 moral respect, does not even take care ot nimseit, lor^is 
 end ought to be to take care of all mankmd. JUis virtue 
 is no virtue, but only perhaps a slavish merit -seeking 
 egotism. It is not made our duty to seek or create our- 
 selves society; he, who was born in a desert, might 
 perhaps remain there; but everyone who becomes ac- 
 quainted with others is. through" tiia't ve ry acqu aintan^ , 
 m orally obliged to take care of them°aIso! He becomes 
 gtir neighbour , and belongs to our world of reason, as the 
 objects of our experience belong to our world of sense. 
 Without becomi ng unconscientious we cannot abandon 
 him. This does away at once with the opinion, which 
 manifests itself amongst us yet in various ways, that the\ 
 life of a recluse, a Hving apart from men, and indulgence 
 in mere sublime thoughts and speculation, is enough for 
 the requirement of duty, nay, is a more meritorious 
 fulfilling of one's duty. Such conduct by no means 
 satisfies duty. It is only through acting, and nob through 
 
248 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 speculating, only through acting in and for society, that 
 we fulfil duty. 
 
 It likewise follows, that each one will o ul 
 Iconvince the other, and not to allow Jiimaelf to ^ l ie 
 Iconvinced. This is in the nature of the case. He ' 
 must be certain in himself, or he would be uncon- 
 scientious in not only acting himself according to his 
 uncertain principles, but also trying to persuade others 
 to do so. 
 
 C. This final end and aim is not the exclusive charac- 
 teristic of^an individual, but is common to all . Each 
 one shall have this same end, and it is thedutyof each, 
 as sure as he desires to promote universal moral culture, 
 to induce each other one '■ to make this his end. This 
 unites men ; each only tries to convince the other of his 
 opinion, and yet becomes himself, perhaps, convinced 
 in this dispute. E ach one must be ready to OTJen, himsel f 
 to Jbis reciproca l mtiuenceT'N Vllosoever flies froia^t ) 
 "perhaps lestne snoTncTn^^sturbed in his belief , betray s 
 a want of self-conviction, which ought absolutely to 
 tfSI^"^TTSsTence^an^which makes it, therefore, all 
 the more hi s duty to enter into, such discussion in order 
 to attain this cdhviction. 
 
 This reciprocity amongst all rational beings for the 
 purpose oiproaucing common practical convictions, is 
 "oin^possiWeinsoTi^iSTrstar^onrTon^ 
 such as necessarily exist in order to connect their further 
 convictions to these principles. Such a reciprocity, which 
 each one is bound to enter, is called a,GJvmcL an ethical 
 coi^mggglth; and that about whicl^hey all agree, 
 IS called their lymSo /. Each one ought to be member 
 fif the Church .* Jju rthe svmM must unless the Church 
 community is to be utterly fruitless, be constantly 
 changed • for that, concerning which all agree, will 
 necessarily increase as the minds continue to influence 
 each other more and more. (The symbols of some 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 249 
 
 Churches seem rather to contain that, concerning 
 which all are at variance, and what not a single one 
 believes in his heart, because not a single one can even 
 think it.) 
 
 D. The agreeing of all in- the same practical convic- 
 tions, and the uniformity of action resulting therefrom, 
 is therefore the necessary end of all virtuous men. 
 
 We shall closely examine this important point, which 
 is characteristic of our science, and which is doubtless 
 exposed to many doubts. 
 
 The Mor al Lawinma as individual, has not me alone, 
 but universal reas ontov Us object . ' It has me for its 
 objeCTSoMyinso far as lamone of the tools of its 
 reaUzation in the sensuouswOTlallence^ilOhat it 
 requires of me, as individual, and for which it holds 
 me responsible, is that I shall become a fit tool. Con- 
 cerning this cultur^o^nwself I am, therefore, referred 
 solely to m y own private convictions, and not to the 
 common conviction. As mdividual, and as tool in 
 relation to the Moral Law, I am possessed of a bod^ 
 and of unde rstan ding. I alone am responsible for their 
 culture. The development of my understanding depends 
 altogether upon my own conviction. I have absolute 
 freedom of thinking. I mu st not deem it uncon scientious, 
 nor must the Church t^'meit is unconscientious, r oTTOubt 
 everythin^ S,.Ji2 wever holy it mav ?]?] DSSit*i P-^^ t° inves 
 gate-it f urth^,rr^^Z rhis investigation is abs_Qlute_dut y ; anc 
 it is a violation of duly to leave matters of this kind 
 undecided, 'in regard to my body, I have absolute 
 freedom to nourish, cultivate, and take care of it, as 
 I may hope, according to my conviction, best to preserve 
 it, keep it healthy, and make it a useful and good tool. 
 It is not duty to act in this matter as others do; nay, 
 it is immoral to let the preservation of my body depend 
 upon the opinions of others without conviction of my 
 own. 
 
250 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 That which is outside of my bod y, and hence the 
 whole sensuous world, is common to all rational beings, 
 and the cultivation thereof accordmg to the dictates 
 of reason, is not only assigned to me, but to all rational 
 beings. I am not alone responsible for it, and in taking 
 part in this cultivation must not proceed according 
 to my private conviction, for I cannot influence this 
 sensuous world without influencing other rational beings, 
 and hence without infriiiging upon their freedom, if 
 my influence does not suit their own will. That, which 
 affects all. I posi tiyeIs:.jn]H| p |; „ jj ft ^ j^fl , pifit>]nn t jj^|p- '^'^gftut 
 QtaIl!T and Jtience m accordance with principles which 
 all have approved, and which are conformable to their 
 common conviction. But from this it would seem to 
 follow, that if such a common conviction and harmony 
 of all, concerning the manner in which each may influence 
 the sensuous world, is impossible, all acting is impossible, 
 which is contradictory to the Moral Law. Still it is 
 also against that Law to act otherwise than according 
 to such universal harmony. Hence it must be an 
 absolute command of the Moral Law to produce such 
 a harmony. This agreement of all men, a s to how each 
 one may influence Che other, tiiaFis to say, the agreena^ nt" 
 of all concernin gthen^ommM^toAfe in the sensuou s 
 world, is called the State (7imm»m ora7ancnh'e community 
 of men which have established suBh an agreement, is 
 called the State. It_is absolute moral dutv to uni te 
 with others into... a State. Whosoever refuses to do so, 
 is not to be tolerated at all in society, because no one 
 can conscientiously enter into relation with him; he 
 having refused to declare his will and his rights, is 
 thus always exposing others to the risk of treating him 
 against his wiU and his rights. 
 
 Since men, therefore, cannot act before a State is 
 erected, and it, nevertheless, being difficult to obtain 
 the express agreement of all, or of only a considerable 
 portion, to a constitution; the more cultured man is 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 251 
 
 forced to take the silence, of others to certain measures, 
 and their submission to the same, for acquiescence. Nay, 
 there will probably be at first many imperfections in the 
 distribution of rights, since some will not give their 
 consent to a system ^f order unless they obtain great 
 advantages, while others will submit to all. In this 
 manner arises, and has arisen, t he compulsory n eed- 
 state as t he first condition of graauai progrS't^a 
 tegai and rat ional state. It is ciuty to subnut un- 
 concLitionallY to the iaw^ ot one's latate , tor these laws 
 contain the presumptive common wiii, in violation of 
 which no one has a right to influence the other. Each 
 one attains moral permission to influence others only 
 through their consent as expressed in the laws of a State. 
 It is immora l toover throw the State ^^l ^^s^m firmly 
 convin^dT^Z|^^^^^^Teane||^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 tBiwI wmchcanonL^De the case under Sjcumstances 
 ^"wSnall hereafter develop ; immoral to do so, even if I am 
 convinced of the illegality and irrationality of the greatest 
 number of its institutions, for in this matter I do not 
 influence myself alone, but the whole commonwealth. 
 My conviction, concerning the illegality of the constitu- 
 tion, is, perhaps, very correct in itself, i.e., for pure reason, 
 if we could obtain her in visible shape. Nevertheless, 
 lit is only my private conviction, but |,J£2stnotactjn 
 I matters relating to the whole commonwealth, according 
 w to mv pTivgt.& pnnvip.t.inn ^ as has been shown above. 
 
 There is a pnntradip.tji nTi here. I am inwardiv convinced 
 that the constitution is a violation of right and justice, 
 and yet I help to maintain it, if only by my acquiescence. 
 Nay, perhaps I even hold an office under this unrighteous 
 constitution. Ought I not, at least, to resign the latter ? 
 On the contrary, I ought to hold it and must not with- 
 draw from the State, for it is better that the wise and 
 just should govern than the unwise and imjust. " What 
 Plato s ays about it is not correct,; nay, contradiCTufy. 
 I "am not" alio wed to withdraw trom my country. Some 
 
252 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 one says : " But I, at least, will commit no injustice ! " 
 But this is a selfish spirit. Will you then let others 
 commit it? If you see that wrong-doings occur, you 
 ought to prevent them. 
 
 "But in that case, I act against my better conviction." 
 But is it not likewise your correct and moral conviction 
 that in matters of common concern you should act only in 
 conformity to the common will ? Hence, it is no injustice 
 at all to treat another as he has expressed his will 
 to he treated in the law; and you only act according 
 to your conviction, if you so treat him. You ask how 
 may this contradiction be reconciled? Easily enough, if we 
 will only look at the different kinds of conviction spoken 
 of in both cases. You speak of the conviction of what 
 shall be, of a condition to be produced ; whereas I speak 
 of the conviction of an actuality to which I belong myself 
 as member of the State. Both must be united, and can 
 easily be united. I must regard the present condition 
 of our nggjj^jgjj^as a means to produce th^a^on^state, 
 and must always act only with this view! I must not 
 take my measures so as to let things remain as they 
 are, but rather so as to let them get better. An acting in 
 the State, which has not this object in view, may be 
 materialiter legal enough, namely, in so far as it neverthe- 
 less promotes that object ; but formaliter it is immoral. 
 But an acting, which has the opposite object in view, 
 is certainly both materialiter and formaliter, evil and 
 unconscientious. If some men have , for a certain lengljj . 
 of time, acted in accordance^ wxtb these principles, it 
 
 ment (becomes li-LegaTT yranny and o ppression. 
 ^tate tuinmes down'oritseli. and a rational torm of gSflHP 
 ment laEes^ rf^^'lrlyiut!." '"" Dseh honest man, who has but 
 convinced himself of the common will, may then quietly 
 take it upon his conscience to completely overthrow it. 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 253 
 
 (I append here a remark : Some men — I will not call 
 them unconscientious, for this they must determine in 
 their own conscience, but, at least, very stupid men — have, 
 of late, raised a terrible cry, as if the belief in an 
 unmeasured perfectibility were something very dangerous, 
 very irrational, and the source of God only knows what 
 wickedness. Let us set our investigation in the proper 
 point of view, so as to put for ever a stop to this idle 
 talk. Let us observe firstly, that it is not at all the 
 next question, whether, from merely theoretical reasons, 
 we must decide for or against this perfectibility. We may 
 put this question altogether aside. The infinitely ex- 
 tending moral law comnr^aTid.'j a.bsolutelv to treat me n 
 r^R j^f f.h,fjy -cyprp and alwavs remaiaed. capable of perfection , 
 and positively prohibits treating them in a different 
 manner. 
 
 "We cannot obey this command unless we believe in pe r- 
 fectibi lity. Hence it is one of the first articles of fantb ^ 
 ' wnich we cannot doubt even without renouncing our whole 
 moral nature. Hence, if it could be proven that the 
 human race, from the beginning ok the world to the pres ent 
 day, ha^ , never progressed, but always retrogressed ; nay, 
 even if, from the natural disposition of men, the mechanical 
 law could be shown that they must necessarily retrograde 
 (which is certainly far more than ever can be shown), we 
 still ought not and could not give up that faith implanted 
 ineradicably within us. I^ot is there any contradiction 
 in this, for this faith is based not upon natural disposition, 
 but upon freedom. What sort of people must there be, 
 therefore, who would make us believe that it is foolishness 
 to hold a faith which the moral law absolutely commands ? 
 «But this is certainly true, that nothin g is mor e dangerous to 
 I the tyranny of despots and priests, ano more calculated to 
 ■Shake their empiretoT^very louriBStiSnytRan tins JaU is: 
 ^The only plausible reason which this tyranny can assign, 
 and which it does not tire to plead, is that men can 
 not be treated otherwise than it treats them , that men 
 
254 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 are as they are and must ever so remain, and that 
 their whole position, therefore, must always remain as 
 it is. 
 
 E. We repeat: all, necessarily, as sure as their 
 destination is dear to them, are desirous to infuse their 
 convictions into all others, and the unio n of all jor t!h is 
 purpo3eJs.called \he> Church. Mutual cohviction, however, 
 is possible only if thecGsagreeing parties proceed from 
 something wherein they agree ; for, otherwise, both neither 
 understand nor influence each other. Both remain 
 isolated, each one speaking his part to himself without the 
 other hearing him. Now, where there are only two 
 or three who are to explain mutually to each other their 
 opinions, it must be easy enough to unite on one common 
 point, since they all occupy the same standpoint of common 
 sense. (In the sci ence o f_ philosop hy, which is to rise 
 
 ^to the stand po int jftra nscendental consciousness, this 
 is not always possible ; and m itlt^s c[uite possible that 
 phil^Rophizin^ individuals do noFagree o nasingle pomt. ) • 
 
 ' But, according to our demand, each oneis to influence all 
 who probably diverge considerably in their individual 
 opinions. How is he to discover what they all agree 
 upon ? Certainly not by going around and asking them. 
 Hence, there must be som ething which can be pre - 
 supposed and which may be regafded'as the confession 
 
 ' ofTmhof all, or as their symbol. 
 
 It is involved in the cSnception of such a symbol, that 
 it should be not particularly determined, but very general 
 in its statement, for it is precisely concerning the further 
 determination of it that individuals disagree. But the 
 conception Likewise involves that this symbol should be 
 proper for all, even the least cultured, and hence that 
 it should not consist of abstract propositions, but of 
 sensuous representations thereof. The sensuous repre- 
 sentation is merely the hull; the conception is the real 
 symbol. That precisely this representation was a matter 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 255 
 
 of necessity, since no common discussion was possible 
 without an agreement about something, and since it was 
 not possible to make men agree about anything higher, 
 they not yet being able to distinguish the huU, which 
 the conception had accidentally revived amongst them, 
 from the essence of the conception. In so far, indeed, 
 every symbol is a svmbol of necessity (Noth- Symbol), 
 and will always remain so. ^^^^^^^"^ 
 
 I shall make this clearer through an example. The 
 essential of every possible symbol is the proposition: 
 there is something supersensual and elevated above all 
 nature. Whosoever does not believe this in all serious- 
 ness cannot be member of a Church, and is totally in- 
 capable of all morality and moral culture. But what this 
 supersensual, the true holy and sanctifying spirit, or 
 the true moral way of thinking may be : this is precisely 
 what the Church seeks to determine, and to agree more 
 and more upon, through reciprocal communication. This 
 is, for instance, likewise the purpose and content of 
 our Christian Church symbol. But the same purpose 
 had previously shaped itself already, as realized symbol 
 in the sensuous world, and as confession of faith of an 
 actual visible community amongst members of the Jewish 
 nation, who had their own usages, modes of thinking, 
 and images. It was very natural that they should shape 
 that proposition according to these images. It was 
 natural that they should have been able to communi- 
 cate the supersensual to other nations, who, as nations — 
 for we do not speak of their sages— were first elevated 
 to a clear consciousness of the supersensual through the 
 Jews, only in the same images in which they thought 
 it themselves. Another author of a religion, Mohamed, 
 gave to the same supersensual another form, more con- 
 formable to his nation, and lie did well to do so. 
 Unhappily the nation of his faith met the misfortune 
 of coming to a standstill from want of a learned public. 
 
 Now what do these images say? Do they determine 
 
256 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 the supersensual in a universally valid manner? By 
 no means ; for what need were there otherwise of a 
 Church community, which has no other object than 
 further to determine the same ? As sure as this Church 
 exists, and this Church exists as sure as man is finite 
 but perfectible, so sure this supersensual is not deter- 
 mined, but is to be determined, and throughout all 
 eternity to be further determined. These enwrapping 
 symbols are, therefore, solely the manner in which the 
 Church community, under our presumption, gives ex- 
 pression to the proposition: there is a supersensual. But 
 since without agreement concerning something, there is 
 not possible any reciprocal action for the production of 
 common convictions, and since the latter as the condi- 
 tioned, is absolutely commanded, so also is the condition. 
 Hence it is absolute duty to fix at least something upon 
 which at least the most agree, as symbol; or, in other 
 words,, to build up a visible Church community, as well 
 as may be. Moreover, I cannot infiuence all without 
 starting from what they all agree upon. But I shall 
 infiuence them; and hence I shall start from what they 
 are all agreed upon, and not from what they are in 
 dispute about. This is not merel y_ a requirement of 
 prudence, but it is ..^mscientious duty. 5s"OTTe"as I 
 ;gall the "end, I also will th e ^Jy^mea ns." '"Blle'^who" acts 
 otherwise does not lieacli for the sake" of moral culture, 
 but perhaps in order to show off his learning, and makes 
 himself a theoretical teacher, which is quite a different 
 business. 
 
 Let it be observed that I say : I shall start from it, 
 as from something presupposed; but on no account: I 
 shall try to arrive at it, as at something to be proven. 
 
 And here, indeed, appears the objection which may be 
 raised against this doctfine. For it might be said : " Now 
 if I am not convinced of the truth of those symbols from 
 which I am to start, do I not then speak against my 
 better conviction ; and how can I be allowed to do so ? " 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 257 
 
 But what is it really which runs against your better 
 conviction ? I hope not the conception of a supersensual, 
 which lies at its basis. Hence it can only be this manner 
 of chMracterizing it as a fimd determination. But who 
 says that it is an actual determination ? You, for your 
 person, determine the supersensual otherwise; but you 
 cannot, and ought not, to start from this your determina- 
 tion, since it is held in dispute. You are to start from 
 what they can all agree upon with you; and this is, 
 presumptively, the Church symbol. To raise them to 
 your conviction is your end and aim; but it can be done 
 only gradually, and by always remaining in accord with 
 them from the first starting-point. You wUl always be 
 teaching conformably to your conviction so long as you 
 regard in your heart the symbol as a means to raise 
 them to your conviction, precisely as our actions in the 
 necessity -state must be regarded as means to conduce 
 to the rational state. It is ignorance to insist that this 
 hull shall be a determinedness. But against one's con- 
 viction to it, an object to keep others in this belief is 
 immoral, and the true priestcraft, precisely as the en- 
 deavour to retain man in the need-state, is the true 
 and real despotism. The symbol is the point of con nec- 
 tiqft Ip^ is not taught — to teach it is priestcrait — for 
 
 'we start from it in teaching: it ^""oSff BBBTO pre - 
 
 1 1 1 II 1 1 «■.—.,,£ '•• ^ " ' 
 
 RnppnR^tmn If it were not necessary to presuppose 
 
 it, or if there were a higher poiat, nearer to my convic- 
 tion, from which to start, I should be more satisfied ; 
 but since there is none other I can only make use of 
 this. 
 
 Hence it is the conscientious duty of everyone who 
 has to work for the spreading of a common conviction 
 ahlongst a Church, to treat the symbol as the basis of 
 his teachings ; jiot inwardly to have faith in them . "We 
 have already shown the very contrary, 'i'ne symbol is 
 changeable, and is constantly to be changed through good 
 and proper teachings. 
 s 
 
2S8 THE SCIENCE OP ETHICS. 
 
 Let us remark here : this further progression and this 
 [ elevating of the symbol . is precisely the spirit' of P ro- 
 I testantism, it this word has indeed any significance at all. 
 The insisting unon the ol d, and the._ tending to bring 
 universal reason to « I'^t.andaf-.ill is the spirit of .Fo pery . 
 The Protestant proceeds from the symbol into the infinit e, 
 Popery pro ceeds to the '^symbol as its ultima^ Who- 
 soever does the latter is a Papist in form and spirit, even 
 though the symbol s which he proclaims as ultimates 
 be genuinely Lutheran, Calvinistic, & c. 
 
 P. I am not only allowed to have my private convictions 
 respecting State government and Church system, but I 
 am even in cons pience bound to cultivate this my con- 
 ■^ vir;|-,inTi a.a Trnip.b as T am able to do. 
 
 ^ut such a cultiv ationi^^jjossible — at least in the 
 course of its-'flrofress ^TOl^nroug^mtercommunication 
 with others. The grouncl is tbe following : There is 
 absolutely no other criterion for ^ the objective truth 
 of my sensuous perceptions than the agreement of my 
 experience with the experience of others . It is different 
 — though not much — with respect to argument. I am a 
 rational being only through being an individual. True, I 
 argue according to universal laws of reason, but only 
 through the powers of the individual. Now, how can 
 I be sure that the result has not been falsified through my 
 individuality ? True, I assert and stand up for it that this 
 is not so, likewise from a ground involved in my nature. 
 But, nevertheless, the fact that I am, in the inmost depth 
 of my soul, not quite sure of my matter, betrays itself in 
 this : if one person after another, to whom I communicate 
 my convictions, should reject it, I would not on that 
 account immediately abandon my conviction, it is true, 
 but I would at least become staggered and would 
 investigate the subject again and again. How should 
 I come to do so, if I had been before quite certain 
 of the matter ? How could the other through his doubt, 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 259 
 
 iufluence, and conduct, if I were quite self-sufficient? 
 On the other hand I am confirmed in my conviction 
 by the honest agreement of others with it. An agree- 
 ing, when I cannot presuppose internal conviction, 
 does not satisfy me ; a proof that it is not the ex- 
 ternal mere agreeing to my views about which I care. 
 On the contrary, it annoys me, because it makes me 
 suspect this, the only criterion left to me to confirm 
 my conviction. 
 
 Deep in my spirit, even though I do not become 
 clearly conscious of it, lies this doubt, whether or not 
 my individuality may not have influenced my con- 
 viction. To remove this doubt the agreement of all 
 is not necessary. The sincere agreement of a single 
 person may suf&ce me, and actually suffices me, 
 for this reason : my fear was, that my individuality 
 might have been the ground of my conviction. This 
 fear is removed as soon as but a single other person 
 agrees with me : for it would be very curious, if such an 
 agreement between two individuals should happen by 
 chance. Nor is agreement concerning everyihingr neces- 
 sary. If we are only agreed concerning the first 
 principles, or respecting a certain view of matters, I 
 may well bear it if the other cannot foUow me in all the 
 conclusions which I draw. For these are guaranteed by 
 general logic, which no rational man will doubt being 
 imiversally valid. Let us take, for instance, philosophy. 
 It is a state of mind, so utterly contrary to nature, that 
 the first man who rose to it surely did not trust himself, 
 until he observed the same elevation in others. 
 
 Thus it is only through intercommunication that ' 
 I attain certain ty and security respecting 'my "con - 
 "ygBmisr ^^unf^a^TonvictTons were really universally 
 rationaI7 and hence universally valid, the particular 
 representation thereof remains, after all, always indi- 
 vidual. The dress in which I clothe them is the best 
 only for me ; but even in me it would better fit the 
 
26o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 general and common conviction, as modified by all, 
 if it had less of an individual form. This it will obtain, 
 if I communicate it to others, who enter upon the 
 subject and oppose their own reasons against it, and who, 
 if the view is correct, throw off their individual mode 
 of thinking. I correct my conviction, and thereby make 
 my own representation even more universally comprehen- 
 sible for myself. The more extended this intercommu- 
 nication is, the more does truth (objectively considered) 
 gain, and I likewise. 
 
 It is, therefore, exclusive condition of the further culti- 
 vation of my particular convictions, that I shall be 
 enabled to communicate them, and hence shall be allowed 
 to start from them. 
 
 But according to what we have said first, I am 
 positively not to start in the Ch urch community from my 
 private conviCL'tOllJiuronlxIirQ m £he common "s'y'ihLI Bf. 
 "and so far as the State government is concerned, 7 "am 
 not only to obey its laws, but even, if it is the duty of 
 my office, help to execute them. Hence, I am also not 
 allowed to communicate my private convictions if they 
 are opposed to the presupposed conviction of the people 
 at large, because in doiag so I would conspire to over- 
 throw the State. But how am I then able to cultivate 
 and correct my convictions through communication, since 
 I am not allowed to communicate them ? 
 
 When the conditioned is commanded, the condition 
 also is commanded. The former cultivation of my con- 
 viction is demanded of me, hence also its condition, 
 communication. The communi cation of my private 
 con viction is absoliite duiv. '"i"* 
 
 But we have just now seen that it is contrary to duty. 
 How can this contradiction be solved ? It is solved as 
 soon as we observe, from what we have deduced the duty, 
 to refrain Jrqm comm unicating priva te convictions re- 
 
 spectT^^ Church '^a ffiSrs and State 'gove riinieSt. We 
 
 'deduce it from ''the"''presuppositTon that a^r'TiSd'-to be 
 
 ! 
 
 I 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 261 
 
 influenced, and from the impossibility to obtain knowledge 
 of their convictions by asking everyone. 
 
 Hence if we had not to influence all, bat a determined, 
 limited number, the convictioni" whereof it were~qmte 
 possible to become acquainted with, because they also 
 could coiDjnunicate their views, it would no longer be 
 prohibited to make them known, and to start from them. 
 The synthetic link of union of the contradiction would 
 be such a society . The conception of such a society 
 involves the following: It is to be partly linii^^.d and " 
 determined, and hence not to embrace a ll, but a certain 
 namber chosen from amongst all, and in so far separated 
 from them ; and par£IyTr*is '£6 represent and externally to 
 realize the freedom which each one has for himself and 
 for his own consciousness, to doubt everything, and to 
 I investigate everything freely. Such a society is a forum 
 of a. coTmrnnn p.mi^cimiHnPRR^ hp.fnrp whic h everyjlling 
 I possible can be thought and investigated wiS^IEsoIulEe !^ 
 {unJimiied freedom. As each one is free for himself, so 
 lis he free on this sphere. Finally — which indeed follows 
 from what we have said heretofore — each member of this 
 society must have thrown ojBLthe fetters of the Churc h 
 "s ymbols^ and of the legal conceptions sanctioned by ine 
 "State ; not precisely matenaHter, for he may consider 
 much of what Church or State holds as final and highest 
 determination of truth; but, at least, formaliter , e.g., he 
 must not ascribe to th ese symbols or conceptions an y 
 autKoritv . must not hold i}hem as true and correct because " 
 the Church teaches them, or the State exercises them. 
 For it is the very purpose and spirit of this society to 
 investigate beyond these limits, but whosoever holds them 
 to be limits does not investigate beyond them, and is, 
 therefore, not member of such a society. We called such 
 a society the learned public, qv scholars^ mmmmmmmmamm^ 
 ^^ffT^Tfi?"^u?3^?eacr^ne7wno raises himself to 
 absolute unbelief in the authority of the common con- 
 viction of his age, to establish such a public of scholars; 
 
 II 
 
262 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Por having repudiated that authority, such a man is 
 without guidance. As sure as he thinks morally, it 
 cannot be indifferent to him whether he errs or not; 
 but in respect to theoretical propositions, which always 
 influence morality more or less, he can never attain 
 perfect certainty, as we have shown above. Add to this, 
 that it is his duty to communicate his convictions, and 
 thus to make them of common use, but, at the same time, 
 must not iTnTijRdia,t,fi1y cnnimunicate them to all. Hence 
 he must hunt up one of similar views, who like' him has 
 thrown off the belief in authority, and he cannot be 
 quiet in his conscience until he has found this man, and 
 has found in him a confirmation, and at the same time 
 a means to deposit his convictions until he shall be 
 enabled to make them useful to all. Others, who get 
 into the same position, will find it their duty to join 
 these two. They will soon find each other, and through" 
 their union establish a public of scholar s. It is moral 
 duty, as appears from the above, to communicate to these 
 scholars all new discoveries, all particular and dissenting 
 convictions which lie beyond the sphere of common 
 consciousness, and which each one may believe to 
 entertain. 
 
 The distinguishing characteristic of such a body is 
 absolute freed o m and independence in thinking , and the 
 principle of "its ~conatitution is the rule to HnbTm't J n 
 positively no authority whatsoever, to base one's self in 
 all matters T)urely upon one's ffwn thinking , and to 
 absolutely repudiate whatsoever is not confirmed by one's 
 own thinking. The scholar distinguishes himself from 
 thenot-scholar in this ; the latter certainly beUeves also 
 to have convinced himself through his own reflections, 
 and he has, indeed, done so; but anyone who can look 
 further, sees immediately, that his system concerning 
 State and Church is the result of the current opinion 
 of his age. All that he has himself convinced himself 
 of is, that such are the opinions of his age ; his premises 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 263 
 
 are formed by his age, without his knowing it and without 
 his co-operation ; the results he may, perhaps, have drawn 
 himself. The scholar, on the other hand, is well aware 
 of this. Hence he looks for the premises in himself, 
 establishes consciously, and from free resolves, his reason 
 for himself as the representative of reason in general. 
 
 Forthflregu^Jjg^jj^^g]jj^gjgjUj£a6,^sia|^^ 
 symbols^ no prescribed direction, no withho lding. The 
 members of this republic must be allowed to discuss 
 everything, whereof they believe they have convinced 
 themselves, . precisely as they dare to think it for 
 themselves. 
 
 I Universities_are_schppls for the learned. Hence in 
 universities als o_it_inaaL-b£^.p ermittecnyTBscuss every^ 
 tmn g whereof one.i.s_. con vince(^£m^tner ei^^yinUaL 
 *f3r'T'1S3lversity!^Tiws^errgreaffl!y^w^ 
 pFfiftaution^aSSTiold that one ought not to say everything 
 in the university rooms ; but first consider well, whether 
 it may be useful, or hurtful, or liable to misrepresentation. 
 Whosoever is unable to investigate for himself, and 
 incapable of learning to do so, should bear the guilt 
 on his own shoulders, for having obtruded into uni- 
 versities. It is not the business of the others, for they 
 act according to their perfect right and duty. The 
 discussion in universities is distiaguished from the 
 discussion in learned books in nothing but in the form 
 of the method. 
 
 As the scholarly investigations are absolutely free, 
 so must also the attendance at those discussions be free 
 to everyone. Whoever can no longer in his heart believe 
 
 I in authority, acts criminally in further believing in it, 
 and it is his moral duty to join the scholars. JsTo earthly 
 power has a right to cj3jmnand^.n^matters_ol conscience, 
 "and it is immoral to deny to anyone, whose mind lits bim 
 for it, admittance to investigation. 
 
 The State and Church must Jolerajgjihe scholars; for, 
 otherwise, they would try to compel conscience, and no 
 
I 
 
 264 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 one could any longer conscientiously live in such a Church 
 or such a State ; for there would be no remedy for him 
 if he should begin to doubt. Moreover, progress toward s 
 perfection would be impossible in such a btare; and yet 
 "TTls-p^sible. " HencrChurchliM-'SlOTrmu^ tolerate 
 scholars, e.g., must tolerate that which constitutes their 
 distinctive essence; absolute and unlimited communicatio n 
 of thought. Evei^thing, whereof each one believes to 
 have convinced himself, must be an allowed subject o f 
 d i scussion, however, dangerous and outrageous it ma y 
 appear . For if anyone has entered upon errors.'^w 
 are others to be prevented from straying into the same 
 errors, if he is not permitted to communicate his errors ? 
 I say : State and Church must tolerate scholarly culture 
 as such. More indeed they cannot do for it, since both 
 occupy utterly different spheres. TJj^^Jaifi,^ig«,gJi£h 
 cannot support or further scholarship^ as such ; this is 
 only done through free investigation, and the St ate is 
 not to investig ate. Statesmen or State qfficiais may,_it 
 IS true, support "^scholarship as inamduals; but not 
 ttie btate. ■»?— "iii— i^ 
 
 ^Pn ^epublic of scholars is an absolute democr acy, or 
 more definitely expresse37"raIyT]ie rignt'*1oF*^ffflkial 
 strength is valid in it. Each one does what he can- 
 do, and is in the right if he has the might to maintain 
 this right. There is no other judge in it than time and 
 the progress of culture. 
 
 Teachers of relipion and State officiala avf- to work 
 in Ihe cause of the perfectibility of men, and hence they 
 must be more advanced than the public at large, e.g.^^^ 
 must be ^ scholars^and must have rece ived a scholarly 
 education. In so far the professional scnoiar is "himself 
 indirectly a State official, for he is the educator of the 
 State's, popidar teachers and immediate officials. In so 
 far alone can the scholar also receive a salary from and 
 be under the supervision of the State. Of course the 
 State cannot prescribe what he is to teach, for that were 
 
THE MORALITY OF OUR ACTIONS. 265 
 
 contradictory; but the State can see to it, that he do 
 really communicate in the best manner what he believes 
 to know. Scholarly schoo ls are not such wherein the 
 future profession of the common school-teacher, or of 
 the State'official, is taught. True, these professions must 
 also be taught, but to teach it const itutes quite anothe r 
 order of teaching. The State official andpunic school- 
 
 ■ teacher is to be not only a pr ofessional man, but also 
 a scholar. Hence he is both, but it is his duty, according 
 to the above principles, to separate both in his conduct. 
 When he is public teacher or official he is not scholar, 
 and when he is scholar he is not the former. I^j^n 
 oppression of conscie nce to prohibit the greater from 
 
 'cotj\iWIIHtBgtTBy*HIFT(isienting cjpnyictionl'^^^CDolany 
 
 w^^^^^^^^^jm^^^^^^^^^^M^^^^ftom* 
 preachingCDeni in the puIpi^ ^iayTinieisonlywell 
 aware or what neooesTnewill himself know that it 
 is immoral to do so. 
 
 The State and the Church have the right to prohibit 
 this to the scholar, and to prevent him from realizing his 
 convictions in the sensuous world. If he does so, if 
 he, for instance, violates the laws of his State, he is 
 justly punished, whatever he may think in himself 
 about these laws ; nay, he will necessarily reprove himself, 
 for he has done an immoral action. 
 
 Thus the idea of a public of scholars alone solves 
 the contradiction which occurs between an established 
 Church and State, and the absolute freedom of con- 
 science of each individual. Hence the realization of 
 this Idea in the sensuous world is commanded by the 
 Moral Law. 
 
 G. In conclusion, we state, in as few words as possible, 
 the total end of man in so far as he is considered as 
 individual. 
 
 The final end of all his working in society is: men 
 shall all agree ; but all men agree only about the purely 
 
266 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 rational, for it is that which is common to them all. 
 Under the presupposition of such an agreement the 
 distinction between a learned and unlearned public falls 
 away, Church and State fall away. All have the same 
 convictions, and the conviction of each is the conviction 
 of all. The State falls away as a legislating and com,puls(yi~y 
 power. The will of each is universal law in truth, 
 because all others will the same, and no compulsion is 
 needed, because each one wills of himself that which 
 he ought to do. To this end, therefore, all our thinking 
 and doing, and even our individual culture, ought to tend. 
 Not we ourselves are the final end, but all are this end. 
 Now if this end, although unattainable, were thought 
 as attained, what would happen ? Each one would with 
 all his individual power, and as well as he were able, 
 modify nature for the use of reason, according to that 
 common will. What each one did would thus, be of 
 equal advantage to all, and what all did would in reality 
 turn to the advantage of each; since their end is the 
 same in reality. 
 
 It is so even now already; but only in Idea. Each 
 one is to think in everything he does that it is for all ; 
 and this is the very reason why he is not allowed to do 
 many things, since he does not know whether they will 
 it also. But if this Idea were real, each one would be 
 allowed to do everything he might will, since all would 
 will the same. 
 
PAET 11. 
 
 THE SCIENCE OF MORALS 
 
BOOK FIFTH. 
 
 THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 DECISION OF THE DOCTRINE OF DUTIES. 
 
 A. We have already indicated the definite separation 
 between the purely rational of the rational being and its 
 individuality. The manifestation and representation of 
 that pure reason in that being is the Moral Law, whereas 
 the individuality is that through which each individual 
 distinguishes himself from the others. The uniting link 
 of both is this, that a rational being absolutely must 
 be an individual, but not necessarily iMs or that indi- 
 vidual ; which latter fact is purely accidental, and hence 
 of empirical origin. The empirical is the will, the 
 understanding (in the widest sense of the word, as 
 equivalent to intelligence or general power of repre- 
 sentation), and the body. The object of the Moral Law, 
 or that wherein it desires to have its end and aim 
 represented, is absolutely nothing individual, but Eeason 
 in general; in a certain sense the Moral Law is its 
 own end. This universal reason has been posited by 
 me, as intelligence outside of me ; and the whole totahty 
 of rational beings outside of me is their representation. 
 Hence I have posited universal reason outside of me, 
 in virtue of the Moral Law, as theoretical principle.. 
 Now after this externalizing of pure reason has been 
 
 269 
 
270 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 achieved in me, only the empirical or individual Ego 
 is to be called Ego, or I, in the Science of Morals. 
 Hence, whenever I hereafter use the word Ego, it always 
 signifies person. 
 
 (Our Science of Morals is therefore very important 
 for our whole system, since in it is shown up how the 
 empirical Ego arises out of the purely genetical Ego, and 
 how the pure Ego is finally altogether externalized from 
 the individual person. From the present point of view 
 the representation of the pure Ego is the totality of 
 rational beings, or the communion of saints.) 
 
 How do I, as person, relate myself to the Moral Law ? 
 It is to me that this law addresses itself, and to whom 
 it assigns its execution; but its end lies outside of me. 
 I am, therefore, for myself, or for my own consciousness, 
 only the instrument, the tool of. the Moral Law, and not 
 its end. Impelled by the Moral Law I forget myself 
 in acting, I am only a tool in its hand. Whosoever looks 
 to an end sees not himself; but the end lies outside of 
 me. As in every contemplation, so the subject loses 
 itself here, vanishing in the contemplated, and in its 
 contemplated end. For me, i.e., for my consciousness, 
 the Moral Law addresses itself not to other beings, 
 but has them for its end. All others are, and only I 
 alone am not, embraced in its end. For my conscious- 
 ness all others are not means, not tools, but final end 
 and aim. 
 
 Let us remove some difficulties which might be opposed 
 to this proposition. 
 
 ^"^(^fi ifflfff-^yT^imsey-'eau ^says Kant with universal 
 approval . "■■ 
 
 This proposition of Kant agrees well enough with 
 mine, if mine is only carried out further. For all the 
 other rational beings, to whom the Moral Law addresses 
 itself equally as to 4ne, using them as tools, hold me 
 as a member of the communion of rational beings, and 
 hence I am to them end, as they are end to me. To 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 271 
 
 each rational being, all others outside of him are end ; 
 but no one is his own end. The point of view from 
 which alT ^ I'TK^^Hf^iTjig^ witVinnt n"nopfir)T, ^ ^ ^^^ final end , 
 lies beyond all-individ nal conscious ness, and is the point 
 of view from which the consciousness ot all rational 
 be ings is united, as ob.iect. into One - . Iicuc feJ j h e-poiBfe- 
 of view of God. F or Go d, each rational hping ia a,bRohite 
 and final end . 
 
 Butn o. it is said, ^ six'h nnpi is to _be end exp ressly for 
 h imselfTand this «!«» Tngy hp admittod Ho~^i(i end as 
 a means to realize reason. This is the final aim of its 
 ggiblenue, ^\\i>^ for this alone he exists ; and i r]g~"Were 
 not for this he ^leed not to "exist at al L This d oeTnot 
 lower, bu t rather elevates the dignity of maS To each~ 
 one is assigned, for his consciousness, the task -of 
 a ttaining the universal end of rpasnn TTTe ^ghrJT ft" 
 c ommunity of ra tional bm ngs becomes dependent up on 
 his care and his labour; and "^e alone is independen t 
 of everything. Ea ch one becomes like God, , so far as 
 'he can become so ;*i.«., in respecting the freedom of^all 
 
 iadrri dualB. — fRarjr_nnft, prftP.isp ly Vionaiigp liig -iininlp ij- 
 di^HJTali<v£_iH/arinihi]atiPd.a.nH rlpgfrnyo.^ ]^pf.(^yTifia a. pnrp 
 
 represen tative of the Moral Law in the se nsuous world ; 
 becomes triTP_pn-i:Q-J<igii l.lii'niiub fi'i'n iciJlIa!n7r HpH--darp.r-t 
 
 minationT \____===. —\ ^^^^^2=^ f^^e^-POwy 
 
 HEt-itas''aEready been sufBciently observed aooVe, that 
 this forgetting of self occurs only in actual acting in the ' 
 sensuous world. Those who place perfection in piou^ 
 meditations, and in devout brooding over their self, and-^ 
 who expect from such practices the annihilation of their 
 individuality, and a flowing together with God, are much 
 in error. Their virtue is and remains egotism ; they 
 want to make perfect only themselves. True virtue 
 consists in acting, in acting for the totality, in which 
 acting each forgets himself utterly. I shall be compelled 
 to recur frequently to this important point. 
 
272 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 B. I can forget myself in my labour only in so far as 
 it stands unhindered, and as I am, therefore, truly means 
 to accomplish the desired purpose. If it is checked, 
 I. am thereby driven back into myself and forced to 
 reflect upon myself ; and I am in this manner made my 
 own object by means of the resistance. 
 
 The Moral Law addresses itself immediately to me, 
 and makes me its object. I am to be means; but I 
 am not means, because the check occurs; hence I am 
 to make myself means. 
 
 Let the condition here established be well remarked. 
 In the moral state of mind, wherein I am to be always 
 and uninterruptedly, I ■ become object of reflection and 
 of the commanded acting, solely in so far as I can 
 not be means. The care for myself is conditioned 
 by this, that I cannot carry out my end and aim 
 outside of me. But when this condition occurs, then 
 this care is duty. 
 
 IThus there arises the con ception of a duty — nf^t exactly 
 which I owe to myself, as, is usually said; for I always 
 remain mere meaii's " for the end outside of me; but 
 of a duty, which I must observe in regard to myself. 
 of a moral acting, whereof 1 myself am the immedi ate 
 bbjeet. I shall call tnese duties, therefore : iiSiL^^igs 
 ^Eo*OTirselves, as is__th£_Jiaaal_p hrase. bu t mediai ed an d 
 cgMM^^^^uties ; mediated because they have for their 
 object the means of all our acting ; coijdiJiiQaai,because 
 I they can only be deduced from the following proposition : 
 I If the Moral Law desires th e conditioned, the realization 
 of the supreme rule ot rea^on'5Tn!51fl^'6t meTBrougEl^ e, 
 I iL.alaQ. desi r e s^^ the condition, namely, that 1 shall ^e l it 
 I and proper mean?^ for tbaj -, pirpnsR 
 
 Since for me there is no other means to realize the 
 absolutely to be realized law of reason, than myself, there 
 can be, strictly speaking, no other mediated duties than 
 those towards myself. In opposition to them, the duties 
 towards the Whole, as the highest and absolutely com- 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 273 
 
 manded duties, are to be called immediate, and unconditioned 
 duties. 
 
 C. There is still another division of the duties from 
 the following reason. The command to promote the inde- 
 pendence of reason, s o far as possible, is addressed to 
 each individual. Now if each one does in this respect 
 that which first occurs to him, or which appears to him 
 pre-eminently necessary, many things will be done in 
 a manifold manner, and many things will not be done 
 at all. The effects of the acts of many will check and 
 cancel each other, and the steady promotion of the final 
 end of reason will not be achieved. But the Moral Law 
 requires that it shall be achieved. Hence it is the duty 
 of each one, who perceives this hindrance (and each one, 
 who will but look close, must perceive it), to remedy it. 
 This remedy, however, can only be effected, if many 
 individuals divide a mongst themselves the various things 
 
 that must be done to promote the final aim of reaso n, 
 each one accepting a certain part for all others, and in 
 his turn surrendering to all others his part. This can 
 o nly be accomplis hed by an agreement , through the 
 
 'uniting of many tor tHe purpose of such a division. 
 It is the duty of each one, who perceives th is, to establish 
 
 . such an agreement. 
 
 An agreement of this kind is an agreement concerning 
 the various vocations of all individuals. There must be. 
 various vocations; and it is the duty of each individual 
 to labour for their establishment, and to choose a_ _fixgd~.. 
 vocation for himself when they are established . Each 
 one, who chooses a vocation, chooses a peculiar manner of 
 promoting the final end of reason. 
 
 Some labours of this kind can be transferred to others, 
 but some can not ; that which cannot be transferred, is 
 general duty . That, which can be transferred, i syarticular 
 duty o f him to whom it is transferred. Hence there is, 
 moreover, a distinction between general and particular 
 
 T 
 
274 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 duties, and combining this division with the previous one 
 we shall have to speak : 
 
 Of the general conditioned Aatiss. 
 
 Of the particu lar condition ed duties. 
 
 Of the gene ral unconditioned or absolute duties. 
 
 Of the particu lar u nconditio ned or absolute duties. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 CONCERNING THE GENEEAi CONDITIONED DUTIES. 
 
 I AM tool of the Moral Law in the sensuous world. But ' 
 I am tool in the sensuous world solely on condition of 
 a continuous reciprocal causality between me and the 
 world , the way and manner of which is to be deter- 
 mined through my will ; and since we speak here chiefly 
 of a causality upon the world of rational beings, on 
 condition of a. continuou s rec iprocal causality between, 
 me and them. (This proposition has been proTenTH my 
 ^cience of Eiffhts^ and as I would have merely to repeat 
 that proof here, I refer to it as the proof of what is 
 averred here. Nor will this mere reference infringe upon 
 the clearness and completeness of our present science, 
 for what this postulated reciprocal causality may signify, 
 will appear clearly enough.) If I am to be this tool of 
 the Moral Law, then the condition under which alone 
 I can be it, must take place ; and if I think myself as 
 under the rule of the Moral Law, I find myself com- 
 manded to realize this its condition • namely, the 
 continued reciprocal causality between myself and the 
 world of both rational and sensuous beings, so far as 
 it is in my power to do so ; for the Moral Law can never 
 req uire the impossible . Hence all we have to do is to 
 analyse this conception, and to relate the Moral Law 
 to its several parts, in order to arrive at the general duty, 
 whereof we ourselves are the immediate object, or at the 
 general conditioned dtities. 
 
 This reciprocal relation is to be continuous ; the Moral 
 Law commands our preservation as members of a sensuous 
 
 27S 
 
276 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 world. In the Science of Bights, which knows nothing 
 of a Moral LawTnd i ts commands, but establishes only 
 
 ^ the will of a free being as determinedJhTaugh_natTga l 
 necessity, we furnished the proof of the necessity to will 
 our continuance in the following manner : I will some- 
 thing (X) signifies : _the existence of this o bject shall 
 b e given to me inTexperience. But as sure as I will it, 
 it is not so given in present experience, and is possible 
 only in future. Hence, as sure as I will this experience, 
 I also will, that I, the experiencing I, shall exist as the 
 same identical I in a future moment. From this point 
 omew respecting my wUl, I will my continuance only 
 for the sake of a satisfaction, which I expect in the 
 future. 
 
 The will of a free being, as determined through the 
 Moral La w, has not this ground to will the continua nce 
 of the individual. , IJflder_the_directiDii. of .this_la^_T^ 
 
 J^ngt care -.ai.aiILJJhat_jomeJhing_^a^be 
 in a future experience. Under it, X is to be absolutely 
 wiffiouTany refCTence to myself; it is to be utterly 
 indifferent to me, whether / experience something or not, 
 provided it only becomes actual in general, and provided 
 I may presuppose that it will thus sometime become actual. 
 The above demand of jjjg-j ^ural man, t hat the object 
 be given to him, is always the demand of an enjoyment . 
 But from the standpoint of morality, enjoyment, as s uc£, 
 
 ^ is never end. If I were told with more absolute certainty, 
 that which you intend is certainly going to be realized, 
 ^^* .yo^ 'will never participate in it ; annihilation is 
 awaiting you belore it will be~realized ; I would, never- 
 
 -tbelflsa Jje forced to work with the same exertion for its 
 realization. The attainment of my true end would be 
 assured to me ; and the enjoyment thereof ought never 
 to be my end. Hence the continuance of my life, and 
 its consequent preservation, is not a duty to me for the 
 sake of experiencing the realization of my end and aim. 
 How then may it become my duty ? 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 377 
 
 /'hatsoever I may realize in the sensuous world is 
 
 Whatsoeve 
 ever" the tii 
 
 l»aa^ tude, but o ul_y a mea.ua b u Jxaw-iiBiiie i 
 Hence the first end of -air my actions is a new acting 
 in the future ; but whoever is to act in the future must 
 live in it; and if he is to act in pursuance of a plan 
 toced out n ow already, he must be and remain the same 
 ^Iie now is : hia luLure existence must regularly develop 
 itself from the present. Inspired by moral sentiment, 
 I consider myself solely as a tool of the Moral Law. 
 Hence I have the will to continue , and to continue to 
 exist solely for ihe sake of acting^ ^ It is for this reason 
 that self-preservation is a duty. This duty of sel f- 
 preservation we now have to determine more closely. 
 T he preservation and regularly progressi ve development 
 o£^.the__ empirical self, wh ich is regarded both as intelli- 
 g ence, or so ul, and as body, is required. Hence bothTEe 
 health and regularly progressive ^development of soul and 
 body considered in themselves, and the continuation of 
 their unchecked mutual influence upon each other, is 
 object of the Moral Law. 
 
 The requirement of the Moral Law in this respect is to 
 be regarded, firstly, negatively, as a prohibition : Undertake 
 nothing which, in pour own consciousness, might endanger 
 the preservation of yourself in the stated meaning of_ t he 
 word ; and secondly, positively, as a command : Do what- 
 ever according to your test conviction promotes this preser -^ 
 vation of yourself . 
 
 I. The preserva tion and the well-being of our empirical 
 self may be endangered, both internally, by checking 
 "tKe" progress of natural development, and externally, 
 through external force. So far as the former is con- 
 cerned, our body is an organized product of nature, and 
 its preservation is endangered, if checks are opposed to 
 the regular ^progress of the organization. This would 
 occur if the body were denied proper food throu gh 
 fasting, or, if the body were overfed through intemper- 
 
278 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 ance, or if au opposite direction were given to the whole 
 tendency 6t nature_^to preserve 'tEe''macBineriiErough 
 
 ■ unchastity . All these dissipations are in violation of the 
 duty of self-preservation, more specially in regard to the. 
 hody. They disturb the development of the mind, the 
 welfare whereof depends upon the well-being of the body. 
 Fasting weakens and makes drowsy the body, intemper- 
 ance, gluttony, and, above all, unchastity, sinks the body 
 
 ^deep into matter, and takes away from it the ability to 
 ele vate itse 
 
 rhe development of the mind is directly disturbed 
 through its inactivity ; for the mind is a power, which 
 can be developed only through practice . It is likewise 
 disturbed through too much exertion, with neglect of the 
 body, since it is the body which must support the mind. 
 Likewise through an irregula r occupation of the mind ; as 
 a blind indulging in irregular fancies, .a mere mem orizing 
 of the thoughts of others without m y own judgment ; or 
 a dry puzzli ng of the brain without living contemplation. 
 The whole mind must be cultured in all directions, but on 
 no account one-sidedly. O ne-sided c ulture is no culture. 
 but rather suppression oi the niind. All that we have 
 here mentioned is noc merely ijnprud ent and unwis e {i.e., 
 opposed to some arbitrary^ end),"T)ut'ir"opposed to the 
 absolute final end and aim of reason. It is absolutely 
 immoral, for all who attain an insight into the end of 
 their empirical existence, and this insight all ought to 
 acquire. So far as the latter is concerned, namely, danger 
 from external causes, the prohibition of the moral law is 
 as follows: do not unnecessarily endanger your health, 
 body, and life. Exposition to such danger is unnecessary 
 whenever the moral law does not require it. When that 
 law does require it, I am absolutely obhged to do so, no 
 matter how great the danger and risk may be ; for it is 
 my absolute end to do what duty requires, and my self- 
 
 jaceservation is only a means for this end. How such a 
 command 6T"Hu^ to risk one's self-preservation may 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 279 
 
 arise, this is not the proper place to explain. We shall 
 take up the subject on this point in the doctrine con- 
 cerning absolute duties. The investigation concerning 
 the morality oismcide, belongs, however, to the subject 
 in the present place ; and we shall settle it now. 
 
 I am not unnecessarily, i.e., not withqut t he command 
 of duty, to endang er mvj ife ; it must, therefore, be still 
 more prohibited to destroy my life with my own power, 
 and intentionally. Somebody might add, however: 
 " Unless, indeed, d uty requires suc h Rftlf-dsRt.rnp.t.inn of 
 one's own life ; as it certainly does require, according to 
 your own presupposition, the exposure of one's life to 
 danger!" Hence the thorough solution of our problem 
 rests on the answering of the following question : _[a it 
 possible that duty can ever require me to kill myselfj 
 
 Let us first observe the great difference between a 
 requirement of duty to endanger o n e's life ^ and^ one to 
 fake away that life. The first command only requires 
 me to forget myself, not to esteem my self-preservation 
 as anything to counterbalance duty. Moreover, the 
 absolutely commanded action, in which I am to forget 
 myself, is directed upon something outside of me. Hence 
 there is no im mediate command: endanger\ thyself ! but 
 only a mediated and c onditioned comn iStl :■ "i^^-tihat 
 which might endanger thyself ! But an act of suicide 
 "would immediately touch" myself, and hence must oe 
 based upon an i mmediate and unconditioned comfliand. 
 We shall see at once whether such is'prasilBli!^ \ 
 
 The decision rests upon the following: My life is^the 
 exclusive condition of the realization of the law through 
 me. Now the command is addressed to me absolutely: 
 to realize the law. Hence I am absolutely conimanded 
 to live, so far as this depends upon me. To destroy my 
 life by my own hands is directly contradictory of this ; 
 and hence is immoral. I cannot destroy my own life at 
 all without withdrawing myself, so far as I am concerned, 
 from the rule of the moral law ; but this that law can 
 
28o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 never command, because it would in doing so contradict 
 itself. If I am influenced by the moral law — and this I 
 ought to be and must be considered as being, when my 
 actions are judged of — then I will to live solely to do my 
 duty. I will not live any longer, would, therefore signify: 
 I will no longer do my duty. 
 
 An objection could only be raised against the major 
 of this syllogism. It might be said: But this present 
 earthly life of ours, of which alone we are speaking, is 
 for me not the only exclusive condition of my duty. I 
 believe in a life after death, and hence, by killing myself, 
 do not end my life in general, and thus do not withdraw 
 myself from the rule of the moral law ; I only change 
 the manner of my life ; proceed only from one place to 
 another, as I often do, and am allowed to do, in this 
 earthly life. In replying to this objection, I shall adopt 
 the simile, and ask : Does t hen the moral law p ermit you 
 arbitr arH y to change VQiULrDOsrEion oFpIace on earth, as 
 if it were the same whether you did or did not'"(Io "so ; 
 or is such a ste p not rather always e ither your duty o r 
 agamit your diity? Ulearly the latter, for according to 
 ""all our previous proofs the moral law leaves no play- 
 Igroiin d for arbitrariness. Under its rule there are jo^ 
 rmcLiTOrent actions at ^al T; in each position of your life 
 ea ch_ act is either mora l or immoral. Hence you will 
 TiSve'to show up not m£ielv a j:iermis6ioi ^ of that, law tn 
 leave this life anS pass into another one, but an explic it 
 comman d. That this is impossible can, however, be 
 
 strictly proven. For the moral law does never im- 
 mediately c ommand me to live for the sake of life. 
 neither in this lite, which alone I know, nor in any other 
 possible life ; but the immediate object of its command is 
 always a determined action ; and since I cannot act with- 
 out living, it always commands me to live. (Considered 
 as a 'imtural agent I will to live not for the sake of life 
 but for the sake of some determination of life ; considered 
 as moral agent, / shall will to live not for the sake of life. 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 281 
 
 but of an action for which I need life.) Hence the 
 transition to another life could not be commanded of me in 
 an immediate, but only in a mediate manner, through the 
 command of a determined act, which would transpire in 
 another life. In other words : I could only be permitted 
 to leave this life — and since there are no actions merely 
 permitted, it can never be my duty to leave this life — 
 unless I had a determined action to undertake in-jbh e 
 life hereafter. This, however, no rational being will be, 
 ~ willing to assert. For we are forced bv the laws of 
 thinkiag to determine our duties through what is already 
 known to us j^ an d the state of life beyond the present is 
 utterly, unknown to us. and all our cognisable duties 
 transpire in the present life. The moral law, therefore, 
 far from referring me to another life, demands always, 
 and in every hour of my present life, that I continue it, 
 for in every such hour there is something for me to do, 
 and the sphere, wherein I am to do it, is the present 
 world. Hence it is not only actual suicide, but even th e 
 desi re to live no longer^ which is immoral, for such a 
 Mesire is a wish to work no longer in the manner in which 
 alone we ca^wiink our work ; it is a n inclinn.tinn nttp.rly 
 opposed to a moral mode of thinking , it is a tiredness 
 and a weary disgustedness, which a moral man should 
 never allow to move him. 
 
 If the wish to leave this world signifies the mere 
 readiness to leave life as soon as the ruler of the world, in 
 whom we believe on this standpoint, shall so order, it 
 is altogether a just wish, inseparable from a moral 
 character, for life has no value in itself to such a 
 character. But if it signifies an inclination to die, 
 and to come into connection with beings of another 
 world, then such a desire becomes an unwholesome indul- 
 gence, which paints and determines the future world 
 in advance. But such a determining has no basis, and 
 the data for it can only be imaginary. Moreover, it is 
 immoral, for how can a truly moral character have time 
 
282 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 ileft for visionary meditations? True virtue does every 
 hour wholly what it has to do in that hour, a nd leaves all 
 the rest to the care of him, whose care it is. 
 
 To convince himself of the correctness of these views, 
 let the reader examine all possible grounds of an act 
 of suicide. The first motive, of which instances are said 
 to have occurred, is a despair to get rid of and conquer 
 certain vices, which have become a habit, and almost 
 our own second nature. But this very despair is an 
 jmmoral feeling. If you only have the true will, there is 
 "no aimculty about the cann ing. What, indeed, could have 
 compulsory power over our will ? Or what could put the 
 power wherewith we sin, in motion, except our will ? 
 Hence in this case the confession is clear that the suicide 
 does not will his duty. He cannot tolerate life without 
 vice, and rather would compromise with virtue by the 
 easier means of death, than conform to its requirement of 
 a guiltless life. 
 
 Another possible motive is that a person should kill 
 himself to escape suffering something infamous and 
 vicious, becoming thus the object of another's vices, but 
 in this case he does not kill himself to escape vice, for 
 if he only suffers in the matter, i.e., if he cannot resist 
 with the exertion of all his physical forces, that which he 
 is made to undergo, then it is not any crime of his. He 
 only escapes through death the injustice, violence, or 
 disgrace, inflicted upon him, but not sin, since he does 
 not commit any sin himself. He kills himself, because 
 an enjoyment is taken away ^om him, without which 
 he cannot tolerate . life. But in that case lie has n&t 
 deniedminself, and has not, as he ought to have done, 
 sacrificed all other considerations to virtue. 
 
 ISome men have accused suicides of cowardice, others 
 have celebrated their courage. Both parties are in the 
 right, as is usually the case in disputes of rational men. 
 The matter has two sides, and both parties have only 
 looked -each at one. It is necessary to consider it from 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 283 
 
 both sides, for injustice must not be done even to what is 
 most horrible, since thereby only contradiction is excited. 
 
 The resolve to die is the purest rep re sentation ot t he 
 superiority of thought over nature. In nature lies' the 
 impulse to preserve itself, and the resolve to die is the 
 exact opposite of this impulse. Each suicide, committed 
 yith cool considerateness — the most of suicides are com- 
 mitted in a fit of senselessness, and concerning such 
 a condition nothing can rationally be said — is an il lustra- 
 tion of t his Ri^pp.riqrity n. prnnf nf g reat Strength Of aoul, 
 and necessarily excites ^teem, when reviewed from this 
 side. It proceeds from the above-described blind impulse 
 to be absolutely self-determined, and is ooly met with in 
 an energetic character. Courage is resoluteness to mee t 
 an unknown fut ure. Now, since the suicide annihilates 
 all future for himself, we cannot ascribe true courage 
 to him, unless indeed he assumes a life after death, and 
 goes to meet this life with the firm resolve to fight or 
 bear whatsoever that life shall have in store for him. 
 
 But whatever strength of soul it may require to resolve 
 to die, it requires far more courage to bear a life which 
 can only have sorrow in store for us hereafter, which we 
 esteem as worth nothing in itself, even though it could be 
 made the most joyous life, and to bear it nevertheless 
 merely so as not to do anything unworthy of ourself. If 
 in the first instance we have superiority of the conception 
 over nature, we have here superiority of the conception 
 itself over the conception: autonomy and absolute 
 independence of thought. Whatsoever lies outside of 
 the thought lies outside of myself, and is indifferent 
 to me. If the former is the triumph of thought, this 
 is the triumph of its law, the purest representation 
 of morality ; for nothing higher can be asked of man than 
 that he should continue to bear a life which has grown to 
 be insupportable to him. This courage the suicide lacks, 
 and in so far he can be called cowardly. In comparison 
 with the virtuous man he is a coward ; but in comparison 
 
284 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 with the wicke d, who submits to disgrace and slaver y 
 merely so as_ ttx-iMatiiij;ifl_ Jpr a tew more years the 
 wretched feeling of his existence, he is a hero. 
 
 2. The requirement of the moral law, which relates 
 to our self, has also, as we have seen, a positive character. 
 In so far it requires of us that we should nourish our 
 body, and prmnnte its health and wp.n-hfiiTig i n aU possible 
 manner — of course for no other purpose than to live and 
 T3VP. ita.Ti jj,|>]p. tnnnflf-J,^ prnrnntVvirnf the^ great'^ l 
 end of rea son. Moreover, if I am to nourish my iJooy 
 and promote its welfare, I must be in possession of the 
 means to do so. Hence I must t ak e ca re of my posse s- 
 sjgflg, be economical, and regulate my* monetary affairs 
 with prudence and order. It is not merely advisable and 
 prudent to do so, but duty. He who, from a fault of his 
 own, cannot provide his own means nf Ij ivinia-^ ia guj^-ty. But 
 the requirement is also addressed to the well-being of 
 our min d, and in so far it is positive duty to occupy 
 the mind continually but regularly, of course so far as the 
 particular duties of each permit him to do so. To this 
 belong aesthetical enjoyments and the fine arts, the 
 moderate and proper use whereof cheers body and soul, 
 and strengthens them for new exertions. In regard to 
 the uninterrupted mutual influence of body and soul upon 
 each other, we can do nothing directly. If each is only 
 properly taken care of by itself, this mutual influence 
 will result of itself. 
 
 Eemark. 
 
 All the above duties are only, as we have said, con- 
 ditioned duties. My empirical self is only a means for 
 the attainment of the end and aim of reason, and is to 
 be preserved and cultivated only as such means, and in 
 so far as it can be such means. Hence, if its preservation 
 conflicts with this end, it must be abandoned. 
 
 For me, for the forum of my conscience, nothing is 
 opposed to the end of reason except my acting adverse to 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 285 
 
 an unconditioned duty. Hence, the only case wherein I 
 can give up self-preservation, is when I can retain life 
 only through the violation of such a duty. I must not 
 do anything immoral for the sake of life, since life is an 
 end only for the sake of duty, and since the accomplish- 
 ment of duty is the final end of reason. It might be, 
 and sometimes is, objected : " But how if, by making just 
 this once an exception fro m fee severity of th elaw, 1 can_ 
 s ave Tny life, a.nd thus preserve myselTTor the futur e 
 achievement o f much goo d which otherwise would be left 
 undone ?" This is the same pretext which is made use 
 of to defend the evil, for the good which is to result from 
 it. But those who urge this objection forget that the 
 choice of the good works which we would like to do, and 
 of others which we would like to leave undone, is not left 
 to our discretion. Each person is absolutely bound to do 
 that, and nothing else, which his position, he art, and 
 ^ JnMgjj ^ C0m «ta,n(^ hii;n Jl0.cl,Q;^a.nf1 mnst, Ipa.vp. nnrlnnp. what, 
 
 they forbid him to do. Now, if the moral law takes away 
 from me its permission for me to live before I can achieve 
 certaiti future good actions, then those actions are 
 assuredly not for me to achieve, for I shall no longer 
 exist, at least under the conditions of this sensuous 
 world. Nay, it is in itself clear enough, that to him who 
 commits immoral acts for the sake of preserving his Ufe, 
 does not hold duty ra general, nor the particular duties 
 which he desires to do hereafter, to be the absolute final 
 end of reason; for, if duty alone were his end, if only 
 the moral law ruled him, it would be impossible for him 
 to act in violation of it, just as it is impossible for the 
 moral law to contradict itself. It was life which was his 
 final end and aim, and the pretext that he desired yet to 
 accomplish good works hereafter, he has only invented 
 afterwards, to excuse himself. But on the other hand, I 
 must also not consider and permit my death as a means 
 for a good end. It is my Hfe, and not my death, which is 
 means. I am tool of the law as active, fri'ncifU, not 
 
286 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 means thereof as a thing. We have already shown, in 
 this respect, that I must not kill myself — as, for instance, 
 the suicide of Lucretia might be considered as a means to 
 liberate Rome — but neither must I voluntarily permit my 
 death if I can prevent it. Still less must I seek the 
 opportunity to die, or excite otliers to kill me, as is tojd o f 
 Oodrus . though 1 might believe that the salvation of the 
 world would result therefrom. Such conduct is alwaYS.a 
 kipri nf Hnif.irlp- Let the distinction be well observed. 
 I am not only permitted, but commanded, to expose my 
 life to danger whenever duty requires it ; that is to say, I 
 must forget the care for my self-preservation. But I 
 must absolutely never fhink my death as an emd and aim. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONCERNING THE PAEIICULAK CONDITIONED DUTIES. 
 
 The particular duties are the duties o f th e vocation, as 
 has been stated above, when we deducecmT^Bresffly of 
 vocations. The particular conditioned duties are those 
 duties which have our empirical self for object, in so far 
 as we belong to this or that particular vocation. In 
 regard to these duties, it is to be observed: 
 
 I. Wherever particular vocations have been established, 
 jt is absolute dut y of _eyery indivi dual to have a vocation, 
 i.e., to promote, in a particular manner, the final end of 
 reason. This we prove as follows : 
 
 If no vocations were established, it would be the duty 
 of each who comprehended the necessity of establishing 
 them as the exclusive condition of a complete and regu- 
 lar promotion of the end of reason, to establish them. 
 Hence, it is still more duty to choose a particular 
 vocation where they have already been established, since, 
 where this has been done, no one can do any general 
 work without doing what others have already undertaken 
 to do, and thus, without either hindering them and 
 opposing the promotion of the final end of reason, or, at 
 least, doing something superfluous and idle, which is 
 equally immoral. Hence, he must select a particular 
 vocation, and make this choice known to his fellow-men 
 in a universally valid manner. 
 
 2. It is duty to select a vocation, not according to 
 JngiinatiQn, but a ccording to the best conviction that it-4s 
 fittest for one's*^owers, culture, and other external con ^ 
 di tiong, Jj'or tiie end" of our life is not to satisfy our 
 
 287 
 
288 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 incHnation, but to promote the end of reason. Each 
 force in the sensuous world is to be used for this end in 
 the most advantageous manner. It might be objected: 
 " But the fewest men choose their own vocation, but have 
 it selected for them by their parents, circumstances, &c., 
 or, if they do select them themselves, they do so in 
 advance of the proper maturity of reason, and before 
 they are disposed to serious meditation and susceptible 
 to the moral law." I reply, that this should not be so, 
 and that each one who sees that it should not be so 
 ought to work to make it otherwise . All men ought to 
 be educated, and to educate themselves in the same 
 manner , until humanity in general has become develqi^e d 
 and ripe in thepi, and not till then ought they to choose a 
 'vocation. We do not deny that, if this is to be so, many 
 ntbp.r thingH in hnma.Ti a.ffairs must be different from wna t 
 they are. But a science of morals establishes always the 
 ideal, even though the ideal should not be realizable 
 under all circumstances. This, indeed, it cannot be, for, 
 if it could, it woidd itself be wavering and indefinite. 
 But neither is it to fit itself according to circumstances. 
 On the contrary, circumstances must begin to conform 
 to it. 
 
 Perhaps this is the place to add that the subordination 
 and rank of vocations, although exclusively a civil 
 institution, is also a necessary one . The manifold 
 occupations of men are subordinated to each other as 
 conditioned to the conditioning, as means to end; and 
 in like manner those who carry them on must be sub- 
 
 Iordinated. Prom a moral point of view all occupations 
 have the same value. In each one the end of reason is 
 promoted, from the vocation which tills the soi l for the 
 production of those fruits from which the sensuous 
 preservation of our race depends, to that of the scholar, 
 who thinks the future ages and works for them, or of 
 the legislator^and wise regent , who realizes the thoughts 
 of the scholar in his institutions for the welfare of the 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 289 
 
 remotest generations. If each one does from duty all 
 that he can do, they are all of equal rank in the court 
 of pure reason. 
 
 3. But I cannot select a vocation without the consent 
 of all other men. For the end of reason must be followed 
 completely and in steady progression ; and all the others 
 having already divided amongst themselves the various 
 labours necessary for it, it is necessary for me to inquire 
 first whether there is still room for me, and whether my 
 assistance is required where I intend to apply it. I have 
 the right to proffer my services, and society has a right 
 to reject them. If, however, no proper institution has 
 yet been established for this purpose, I shall have to 
 judge myself, according to my best conscience, whether 
 my assistance is required. 
 
 Hence the vocation of each individual is determined 
 through his reciprocity with society, which reciprocity 
 emanates, however, from the individual. It is he who 
 has to proffer himself. 
 
 4. It is duty to cultivate mind and body pre-eminently 
 with a view to usefulness for the occupation chosen. 
 The agriculturis t needs, above all, strength and en- 
 durance of body; the artist d exterity and mobility of 
 the same, and theoretical culture of mind is for their 
 vocation only a means ; whereas the jcholar h as universal 
 culture of the mind for his end, and to him the body 
 is only means to support and maintain the mind in the 
 sensuous world. In this respect the scholars s eem to 
 have had a pernicious influence on the opinion j} f 
 the people. For them it is duty to study, andto 
 systematically cultivate their understanding; for their 
 vocation requires this. This, the duty of one vocation, 
 many desire to make a general duty of mankind, and^ 
 
 Jhe meaning of" their doctrines seems to be that'-^ li 
 
 "men ougtit to become scholars . Most visible this is 
 
 still the case with the theologian s, who seem to like 
 
 to make all men as good theologians as they are them- 
 
 u 
 
290 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 selves, and who consider their science as necessary for 
 salvation. Hence it has chanced that fa r too high value 
 has heen put upon theoretical culture , even wken' it~ 
 lacked other good qualities; and that in extreme cases 
 persons have even asserted virtue and godliness to consist 
 in solitary meditation and speculation. In the scholar 
 this certainly is a virtue, but even in his case only in 
 so far as his end is to communicate his studies. Other 
 vocations need of theoretical culture only sufficient to 
 enable them to judge and understand what belongs to 
 the labours of their vocation, and the perfecting of their 
 art ; but the chief point is, that they elevate themselves 
 to moral acting; and for this, culture of the under- 
 standing is not so much necessary as culture of the will. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 concerning the geneeal unconditioned duties. 
 
 Preliminary. 
 
 ^HE final end of all actions of the, morally good man , 
 gener ally and parti p.nla.rl y "f qH flioiv p- yf.prna.l rA STiUa^ 
 m aj^TTe gath ered into this formula : He desires that reason, 
 
 _ and only reason , shmiM tiiIp. f.w t.ke. sensomiia ornrht — -All 
 
 ph ysical power is to be subord inated to reason. — 
 
 JNow reason can rule solely in and through rational 
 beings. Hence moral acting relates itself always, even 
 though immediately it should be directed upon irrational 
 nature, at least mediately to rational beings, and has only 
 them in view. As there a,re no rights in regard to 
 irrational nature, so are there no duties towards jt . To 
 act upon nature becomes duty solely for the sake of the 
 rational beings. 
 
 Hence the morally good man desires that reason and 
 morality should rule in the community of rational 
 beings. 
 
 It is not merely the desire that the good and the 
 rational should occur, but also that it should occur 
 through freedom, in accordance with the Moral Law, 
 or that true morality should rule. This is a chief point 
 which is not to be overlooked, for the neglect of it 
 has had a very pernicious and hurtful effect upon the 
 theory of morals, and thus also upon life, as we shall 
 instance in the proper place. 
 
 But no act is moral which is not the result of freedom. 
 
292 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Hence the formal freedom of all rational beings is the end 
 of eve^mSrally good man, an d we have, therefore,' lirst 
 of ail things to speak : ^ 
 
 A. Concerning our duties in relation to the formal 
 freedom of others. — — — 
 
 AH are to be formaliter free, without exception. But 
 it may happen that someone may use his freedom, which 
 belongs to himself, with the purpose of suppressing the 
 freedom of others. Hence it will be our next task to 
 investigate what duty may requii-e in such a case, and 
 we shall, therefore, have to speak : 
 
 B. Concerning our duties in conflicts with the formal 
 freedom of others. 
 
 Finally, it is the will of the morally good man, that 
 each one should exert his freedom to do his duty ; and it , 
 is his end and aim to promote morality amongst ajl' 
 rational beings. We shall therefore, in conclusion, have 
 to speak : 
 
 C. Concerning our duties in regard to the immediate 
 promotion and extension of morality. 
 
 A. The formal freedom of an individual consists in the 
 continuous reciproca l relation between his body, as a tool 
 and a sense, and the sensuous world, detery ^nied and 
 *^etero]jij| ^able solely through the freely-created c onception 
 of thejhdividual respecting t'Be'maii'ner of thfarecip rnnn] 
 relation . This freedom involves a twofold: i. The con- 
 tmuation of the absolute freedom and inviol abilit y nf thp 
 lody , so that it cannot be at all immediately influenced 
 by physical power. 2. The continuation of its free- 
 influence upon the whole sensuous world . (See the Science 
 
 I. T'he regulation of the moral law respecting the 
 bodies of rational beings outside of us may be regarded, 
 firstly, negatively as a prohibition , and secondly, positively 
 ^ as a^mmand-ij 
 
The theory of duties. 293 
 
 Th e remlative principle of this judgment is as follows: 
 Each human Body i s for the morally-minded man a tool 
 to realize the moral law in the sensuous world. ""Bui;" 
 such a tool it can only be on the condition that it remax 
 utterly free, and dependent only upon the free will q 
 the person. ^ Immediately upon perceiving a human boi 
 the command of the moral law, respecting this deter- 1 
 mined body, is addressed to him. / 
 
 I do not add this without good reason, for~soitreeHe 
 might say : " What matters it whether this or that body 
 exist, the end and qim of reason will be realized anyhow ; 
 and one body more or less makes no difference .'' I 
 reply : This does not concern us in the least, and it is not 
 at all permitted to us to think so. It suffices, that this 
 _single_body^e_xists also, and is l ikewise free ; and when 
 we perceive him, the moral law commands us to regard 
 him as such a one, who necessarily belongs to the com - 
 munity of rational bein gs, and to the tools for the realiza- 
 tion of the moral law. (Thus even here already do we 
 catch a glimpse of the idea of a ruling of the moral law 
 in the nature whi ch exists independen tly of us, and of 
 an adaptability of nature for the m6ral~"law7 an idea 
 which finds its realization in the idea of a Godhead, but 
 which we have not to discuss in this place.) 
 
 (a) Considered negatively, this regulation is an absolute 
 ^prohibition, never immed iately t o influence the body o f 
 another rational being. A human body is"~to depend 
 solely upon the will of the person, and absolutely upon 
 no external force. Mediately I am allowed to determine 
 the body, ie.. I may determine the person, by means of 
 rational argument, to cause his will to produce through 
 his body these or those modifications in the sensuous 
 world. 
 
 But I must not use his body as a tool, asa means for 
 my own will. I must not seek to influence his will 
 through physical force s — blows, knocks, hunger, imprison- 
 ment, or deprivation of freedom. I am permitted to 
 
294 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 influence him solely through rational grounds, and abso- 
 lutely through no other means. 
 
 Nor am I permitted to oppose in an immediate manner 
 physical resistance to the causality of another person 
 upon the sensuous world. In what cases these general 
 prohibitions cease we shall see hereafter. 
 
 I am not allowe d^ even to kill anyone intentiona lly: 
 the death of a human being must never be the oBje^ of 
 my action. The strict proof of this is as follows : The 
 life of each man is a means for the realization of the 
 moral law. Now I either hold it possible, in the case of 
 a certain man, that he still may be or become such a 
 means, or I do not consider it possible. If I do consider 
 it possible, how can I, without refusing obedience to- the 
 moral law and making myself indifferent to its realiza- 
 tion, annihilate the person who is, in my own conviction, 
 destined to assist in its realization ? If I do jiot consider 
 it possible, if I hold anyone to be a n irredeema ble villain, 
 then my immorality consists precisely in mv taus holclmg " 
 him. For the mom law absolutely binds me to infuse 
 [moral culture into him, and to assist in making him 
 Ee tter.^ Jlence wnen i •farmly resolve in my own mind 
 that fie is irreclaimable, I abandon a work assigned to 
 me by that law. But this I must not do, and hence I 
 also must not thus hold him. The moral law absolutely 
 requires the faith that each man can be bet tered!^ JNow 
 if this faith is necessary, then the first part of our argu- 
 mentation again receives validity, and I cannot destroy 
 a human life without abandoning my end and aim, and 
 destroying the end of reason in him as much as lies in 
 my power. Whosoever is to become moral must live. 
 
 We have argued in this manner : it is absolutely 
 required of me to promote morality in every individual. 
 But this I cannot, without assuming the possibility of such 
 morality. Hence, &c. 
 
 The ininor of this syllogism, which alone might need a 
 proof, can be thus proven. I make something my 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 295 
 
 end and object (here, for instance, the reform of an 
 individual) signifies: I postulate the actuality of this 
 reform in some future moment; but I postulate it 
 signifies: I posit it as possible . Now the moral law 
 absolutely requires me to have that end and object; 
 hence it requires me to think everything involved in 
 it. Precisely as we demonstrated above the necessity of 
 faith in the perfectibility of the human race, so do we 
 here prove the necessity of faith in the reform of every 
 particular individual. 
 
 Hence, as premeditated self-murde r can on no con- 
 dition co-exist with true morality, so can neither the 
 premeditated murder of another, and for the verv same 
 reason. In another case a possible tool of the moral law 
 is being annihilated. But it is very well possible that as 
 it might become allowable to expose one's own life to 
 danger, so it may also become a duty to expose the life of 
 another to danger. We shall see in what cases. 
 
 In my Science of Rights I have expressed myself 
 concerning a pretended right of the State to take away 
 the life of a criminal as follows : that the State , as judge, 
 and as not a moral but merely a legal body, can only 
 can cel the ci vil a greement between it and the crimma i, 
 mere by makmg tJtie criminal ah outlaw and a mere 
 thing. Death may be the result of this annihilation , 
 of all the rights of the criminal, not however as a 
 punishment, but as a means of securitY_; and hence it 
 is not at all an act of the judicial, but simply of the 
 police power. A single individual can and ought even to 
 expose his own security for the sake of his duty : never to 
 attack a human life; but Government has not the 
 same right in regard to the security of all. In the same 
 work I have also expressed myself concerning the kiUin g 
 of armed enemies in times of war, w hich may not only be 
 lawful, but even a duty. The object of war is by-jao 
 means to kill the cifizen^ of the hostile State , but simply 
 to drive them away or disarm them, thus rendering 
 
 I- 
 
296 THE SCIENCE OP ETHICS. 
 
 the hostile State powerless, and compelling him to enter 
 into a legal relation with our State. In hand-to-hand 
 combat the single soldiers kill each other, not to kill each 
 other but each to defend his own life; and this not 
 by virtue of a right conferred by the State to kill, a right 
 which the State cannot confer, but in virtue of his 
 own right and duty to defend himself. 
 
 (6) The disposition of the moral law in regard to 
 the bodies of rational beings outside of us in its poailiye 
 character, and as a command, involves the following : 
 
 The health. strenp;th. a.nd preservation of the body an d 
 life of others is to be an end to us. We must not 
 
 only oppose no obstacle to this preservation, but must 
 promote it in the same dparf;p "c. f>iQ -nrolfpii-o r.f m^T 
 own bodies. The strict proof of this is as follows : 
 Each human body is tool for the promotion of the final 
 end of reason. Now, if the latter is indeed my highest 
 final end, then the preservation and highest possible 
 adaptability of the body for that end must be also 
 my object; for I cannot desire the conditioned without 
 desiring the condition. The preservation of each other 
 person must be as dear to me as my own, since the ground 
 
 ' why I desire either, is the same : I preserve and take care 
 of myself solely as a tool of the moral law. But each 
 body is also such tool. Hence I must have the same care 
 for each body, if I really am impelled only by the 
 moral law. 
 
 Here we meet for the first time with the proposition : 
 take as much care of the welfare of vour fellow-men as o f 
 
 _your own; love thy neighbour as thyself; a proposition 
 which will hereafter be regulative in all positive duties 
 against others. The ground of it has been stated : to wit, 
 I can and am allowed to take care of myself solely in so 
 far as I am tool of the moral law, but all others are so 
 likewise. In this manner we receive at the same time an 
 infallible criterion as to whether the care fo r ourself is 
 a moral or merely a natural impulse. If it is moral 
 
THE THEORY OP DUTIES. 297 
 
 we shall have the same care for others ; if it is natural, it 
 is exclusive, for the natural impulse refers only to us; and 
 Rvmpat.ji v which is also a natural impulse exciting fellow - 
 feeling in the fate of others, ^s by far weak er in its effects 
 than the immediate natural impulse of self-preservation . 
 In sympathizing, we always first think of ourselves, and 
 next of our neighbours. 
 
 I am to have the same care for the welfare of others as 
 for my own. Now according to the above I do not 
 care for my own welfare, nor think, indeed, at all of my- 
 self, until I am reminded of myself by a feeling of 
 weakening and losing of strength, or through some danger 
 threatening my self-preservation. It is the same with 
 the care for the preservation of others. It does not mean 
 that I am to do nothing else than seek opportunities 
 to save persons' health and life — unless, indeed, such is my 
 special vocation. But as soon as anyone is in danger 
 I am absolutely required to assist him, even at the risk of 
 my own life, whether the danger comes from irrational 
 physical power of Nature, or from the attacks of rational 
 beings. 
 
 I say, at the risk of my own life. There occurs here no 
 collision of duties, as might be apprehended. My preser- 
 vation is conditioned through that of the other, that 
 of the other through mine. Both are indeed altogether 
 equal, of the same value and from the same reason. It is 
 not my intention that either of us should perish in it, but 
 that both should be preserved. If nevertheless one of us 
 perishes I am not responsible for it ; I have done my 
 duty. 
 
 (It is an idle plea to appeal to the duty of self-preser- 
 vation when the other one is in danger ; self-preservation 
 has ceased to be a duty. Correctly translated that plea 
 means : we will save the other one if we are safe in doing 
 it. This is certainly noble and great! Not to wish 
 to save a human life, where we could do so without any 
 danger to ourselves, would be evident murder. Nor 
 
298 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS 
 
 are we in such cases first to calculate, as some moralists 
 hold, whose life might be of greatest value, and whose 
 preservation of most importance. Before the moral law, 
 human life in general is of equal value, and when one 
 human life is endangered all other human beings have no 
 longer a right to be secure until the one is saved. It is 
 truly a great and moral word, which the late Duke 
 Leopold spoke, when he said, "Here a human life is at 
 stake : what am I more here than you ? ") 
 
 2. The formal freedo m of an individual, which the 
 moral law requires us to respect and promote, involves 
 secondl y, the continuation of his free influence upon the 
 sensuous worlds The act of the individual is to result in 
 that which he had in view when he began to act, for only 
 on this condition is he free. 
 
 I. Such a causality is conditioned firstly by a correct 
 understanding of that which the act of the individual 
 has for its object. I cannot work on anything unless I 
 have a knowledge of it, and the end I have in view is 
 determined by this my knowledge of the actual being 
 and independent quality of the thing. The end I have 
 in view proceeds from the present quality of the thing, 
 and governs itself according to the natural laws of the 
 thing. If I have an incorrect conception of the object 
 of my act, my act will result in quite a different end 
 than that which I had in view, and hence I am not 
 free in my causality. I must will the conditioned, the 
 free causality of my fellow-men in the sensuous world, 
 and hence I must also will the condition, that they sha ll 
 have a cor rect cogniti on of t he same,, sufficient for their 
 causality; This correctness of their practical cognition 
 must be an object to me , precisely in the same measure 
 as the correctness of my own practical cognition is an 
 "end to me. 
 
 a. This disposition of the Moral Law considered 
 negatively results in the prohibition^ absolutely not to 
 lead the other into error, not to lie to him, or deceive 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 299 
 
 him, neither directly by categorically asserting what I 
 myself do not consider true ; nor indirectly by making 
 a mbiguoT j_s statements which ^intend shall deceivejiim. 
 The latter is as much a lie giS f'hfl ^OTIT^^n-^"^ not the 
 words which I use, but the intentions, constitute the lie. 
 If I intend to deceive I am a liar, whether I tell the lie 
 straightway, or merely induce the other to infer it. 
 Of course, whether I actually have or have not the 
 intention that he should thus infer it, or whether the 
 ambiguity of my statement may not result accidentally, I 
 must decide before my own conscience. 
 
 In short : I positively owe every man absolute frank- 
 ness and truthfulness ; I must not speak anything against 
 the truth. Whether and in how far I also owe all men 
 openness, is., whether I must also~say all the truth 
 which 1 know, we shall_seg_he reafter. "* — ™ 
 
 ' The s'SncT proof of our proposition is as follows : I 
 have moral sentiment, I consider my fellow-man as a 
 tool of the Moral Law , that is to say, as one who is 
 always to choose after his own insight and from his owjl 
 
 ^ood will._ E"ow if I produce in him an incorrect know- 
 ledge, in accordance wherewith he acts, then that which 
 results has not been selected through himself, but he has 
 been made a means for niy end; and this is immoral. 
 If thereby I induce him to commit an illegal act — which 
 may be moral for him because he starts from incorrect 
 presuppositions supplied by me — my guilt is evident. 
 I had an immoral end in view, and have used the other 
 — perhaps contrary to his own mode of thinking — as a 
 tool. But apart even from this abuse of the other, the 
 guilt is as much my own as if I had committed the act 
 in person, which I induced him to commit through 
 misrepresentation. I am the true culprit. But eveg, 
 if I had real ly calculated upon a legal act, an d had 
 
 "attaitfen "it thus through means of the other, JTshouljL 
 have acted immorally The other is to do that which 
 is right, not from error, but from love for the good. I 
 
306 tHE SCIENCE OF ETHtCS. 
 
 am not at all permitted to intend mere legality; my 
 end should be morality, and I cannot have the former 
 alone in view without abandoning the other, and to do 
 this is immoral. 
 
 "But," objects a defendant of that immoral doctrine 
 
 of morals, "I k new that the other could Lpnly be induced 
 
 J^y this TTiPpna tio d" thfi- grifid 4ee d.." Ireply : This you 
 
 ca nnever know, and should not believe.: for such a 
 
 distrus t of the other's rationality is immoral. Moreover, 
 
 supposing even it had happened so, and that the other 
 
 had not done the good deed which you claim to have had 
 
 alone in view, unless you had made the misrepresentation 
 
 in question — you would be utterly innocent in the matter. 
 
 LFor itJs^Tiot-, all all yniif mnraL Hnf.y tn re alize the pood 
 
 ■ without re p ;ard to the mp ana ; t,h^ Efood is to be realized 
 
 ithrough moralitv. and otherwise it is not good. Precisely 
 
 l)y abandoning the form in which alone the essence of 
 
 the good consists, and by having only the content in 
 
 view, do you clearly show yourself to be actuated in 
 
 that good deed, not by interest in the cause of morality, 
 
 but by some advantage or another, for only the latter 
 
 is satisfied by the content of the deed. 
 
 These same arguments are to be applied to him who 
 perhaps seeks to defend a lie by the plea that he intended 
 to prevent an evil by it. He should hate and prevent 
 a wrong, not for the sake of the act as such, but for 
 the sake of its immorality. If anyone asks him for 
 the truth of a matter with evil intentions, he must not 
 tell a lie; he may tell the truth, and if he does and 
 knows the evil intentions of the other, he ought to 
 convince the other of the wickedness of his intentions. 
 He has not a right to suppose that these remonstrances 
 will be of no avail, but even if they really do no benefit, 
 physical resistance still remains open to him. Thus the 
 pretext that the lie was for a good intention is for ever 
 annulled ; the results of a lie are never ^ood . 
 
 The suBject-matter of my statement may be either 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 301 
 
 nature, to which in this respect the disposition of other 
 free beings does also belong, or my own disposition . In 
 the latter case I make a promise ; i must hold my promise, 
 unless indeed I have promised an immoral act. 
 
 " But," it might be objected, " I may change my opinion 
 and my measures respecting that which I have promised." 
 We reply : When I have promised and thus induced 
 jin other one to shape his calculations in accordance with 
 my statement, I am no longer dependent merely upon 
 myself, but likewise upon the other. In so far I am 
 in his service, and I cannot withdraw my word without 
 destroying those actions of his which he has undertaken 
 in view of my promise, and hence without annihilating 
 his causality in the sensuous, world. I may remonstrate 
 with, and thus induce him to relieve me of my promise ; 
 but only in so far as he thus releases me am I quit of my 
 promise. He makes me a present of it. A good advice 
 concerning the difficulties which arise from promises 
 respecting matters about which one may apprehend a 
 change of views, and which depend indeed upon future 
 events, is this : not to make promises too easily. 
 
 I said : I must keep my word unless I have promised 
 an immoral action. This needs a more particular specifi- 
 cation. For everything is immoral for me, which I know 
 to be not the best, or concerning which 1 am merely 
 
 indifferent; hence it would seem that I must do no 
 promised action whenever I have changed my views 
 regarding it, or become dubious as to whether I am 
 able to fulfil it. The reply to this is as follows : whatso- 
 ever does not absolutely contradict morality, and hence 
 whatsoever lies on the road to the attainment of the 
 final end of reason, I must' do for the sake of the 
 other, although I might do better for my own person. 
 Only that which is absolutely opposed to morality must 
 I positively not do. Hence I fulfil the promise for the 
 other's sake, though I might do better so far as my own 
 person is concerned. 
 
302 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 At the same time we shall here reply to two other 
 questions which force themselves upon us on this 
 occasion. 
 
 ^Firstly : how comes it that so many men, who wish 
 to pass for honest and not unreasonable men, defend 
 "necessary lies," and seek up all possible arguments to 
 gloss them over ? It comes from this. In our age, the 
 men who form their minds and their natural character 
 in accordance with that age, are placed by this sort of 
 culture— which, however, is not the culture through 
 freedom — upon that standpoint which we have described 
 more particularly above. ^Thfiir-fimpiri cal Ego is t o rule 
 the world without regard to the freedom of othe rs ; they 
 want to jnake happy, protect, and beatify this world 
 according to their individual co nceptions of happiness, 
 beatitude, and misery ., 'I'his is their chief aim. BuF" 
 with the weakness which our age is not unjustly charged 
 with, in their character they lack the strength of resolu- 
 tion to realize their arbitrary ends by force, and hence 
 they conclude to realize them through cunning, which 
 necessarily leads to the so-called white lies. This, their 
 internal mode of thinking, of course determines also their 
 theoretical system, unless they are philosophers capable 
 of starting from the absolutely highest principles. They 
 start from the facts within them, from their impulse 
 to lay down the law, and their lack of courage to do 
 so by force, and from the basis of these facts they 
 proceed logically ^ough. Why, nevertheless, some of 
 them, when it comes to carrying the theory into action, 
 depart from it, is explained by this : something else 
 which lies also as a fact in them, but too deeply to 
 influence their arguing; namely, their feeling of honour 
 prevents them from making use of their theory. 
 
 Secondly : whence comes that internal shame for one's 
 self, which manifests itself even stronger in the case 
 of a lie than in the case of any other violation of 
 conscience? The ground is as follows: The liar has 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 303 
 
 the mode of thinking above described. He wants to 
 subject the other to his views and purposes. He does 
 this by again deceivingly and for appearance's sake 
 subjecting himgelf to the purposes of the other, by 
 seemingly entering into the other's plans, approving his 
 views, and pretending to promote them. He thus places 
 himself in contradiction with himself, subjects himself 
 to the man whom he does not trust himself openly 
 to resist, and is a coward. The lie i s always and in 
 every case accompanied by cow ardic .a iiut nothing so 
 much dishonour's us before ourselves as want of courage. 
 
 As for the rest, the defence of " white lies," or, indeed, 
 of lies in general, no matter for what good purpose, is, 
 doubtless, the most absurd and, at the same time, the 
 most wicked arguing ever heard amongst men. It is 
 the most absurd. You tell me you have convinced 
 yourself that necessary lies are permitted. If I am to 
 believe you, I must at the same time also not believe 
 you ; for I cannot know whether in saying so you are 
 not prompted by some laudable purpose or another — for 
 who can know all your purposes ? — and that you do not 
 make use of your own maxim against me, and whether 
 your assurance, that you consider necessary lies allowable, 
 is not itself a necessary lie. A person who really had 
 such a maxim could neither desire to confess it, nor 
 to make it the maxim of anyone else ; but only to 
 carefully guard it for himself. Por this maxim, by being 
 communicated, annihilates itself. Of whomsoever it is 
 known that he possess it, rationally no trust can be 
 any more entertained by any man ; for no one can know 
 tha,t man's secret purposes, and judge whether he is not 
 at the moment telling a necessary lie. But when no one 
 has any longer confidence in him, he can no longer 
 deceive anyone by lies. Now it is doubtless absurdity 
 to demand belief in a maxim which, when believed in, 
 cancels itself. 
 
 But the defence of necessary lies is also the most 
 
304 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 wicked argument possible amongst men, for the defender 
 thereby discovers his thoroughly corrupted mode of 
 thinking. The true seat of your wickedness is precisely 
 that you could hut think of a lie as a possible means of 
 escape in certain difificulties, and that you can now 
 consult whether it may not be allowable so to use it. 
 Naturally there is no impulse in man to tell a lie; 
 nature goes straightway towards enjoyment, and a moral 
 mode of thinking knows not lying; to think a lie it 
 needs a positive evil, an intentional loohing-oitt for some 
 crooked road, because we do not like to go the straight 
 one before us. An honest man does not even think 
 of such a means of escape, and if all men were honest, 
 neither the conception of a lie would have entered into 
 the system of human conceptions, nor an investigation 
 concerning the morality of necessary lies in the Science 
 of Morals. 
 
 The customary illustration of the schools can explain 
 our thoughts. A man, pursued by his enemy with 
 drawn sword, conceals himself in your presence. His 
 enemy arrives and asks you, where he is. If you tell 
 the truth an innocent person is murdered; hence, con- 
 clude some, you must lie about it. How do those, 
 who conclude thus, get over so many possible means 
 which the straight way before them holds up to them, 
 into the crooked path? Firstly: why are you obliged 
 to tell the questioner either the truth or the lie ? Why 
 not the third, which lies between, that you owe him 
 no answer, that he seems to have an evil intention, that 
 you advise him to desist from it kindly, and that, if 
 he will not do so, you are resolved to take the part 
 of the persecuted, and to defend him at the risk of 
 your own life, which latter is, after all, only your absolute 
 duty? "But," you reply, "if I do so all his rage will 
 turn against me ! " I pray you, how does it happen, that 
 you only consider this case as possible, whereas the 
 second case, that your opponent, struck by the justice and 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 305 
 
 boldness of your resistance, may desist from the perse- 
 cution of his enemy, may cool off and become tractable, 
 does also belong amongst the possibilities ? But let us 
 assume even that he does attack yourself. Why do you 
 absolutely wish to avoid that? It is anyhow vour duty 
 to defend the per secuted man at the risk of Your ow n 
 life, for as soon as human life is in danger you have no 
 longer a right to think of the safety of your own life. This 
 fact alone is enough to show that the first object of your 
 lie was not to save the life of your neighbour, but merely 
 to escape yourself with a whole skin ; and, moreover, in 
 a case where your danger was not even real, but merely 
 one of several possibilities. Hence you resolved to lie 
 merely to escape the remote possibility of coming to 
 grief! Therefore, let him attack you! Does then this 
 mere attack of itself overwhelm you, as you seem again 
 to assume without regard to all possible other cases ? He 
 who was first persecuted has, as we have assumed, con- 
 cealed himself within your proximity. At present you 
 are in danger, and it is now his general duty, and, 
 moreover, his particular duty as a matter of gratitude, 
 to come to your assistance. Where do you get the 
 decided^ presupposition that he will not dq^jo ? But 
 supposing he does not come to your assistance. In that 
 case you have gained time for assistance, and others 
 may happen to come to your assistance. But even 
 assuming that all this should not occur, how can you 
 be so very sure that you will be defeated ? Do you then 
 count as nothing the power which fixed resolve to suffer 
 no injustice, and the enthusiasm for your good cause, 
 must infuse into your body ? nor the weakness wherewith 
 confusion and consciousness of his injustice must over- 
 whelm your opponent ? In the worst case you can die ; 
 and after you are dead you are no longer obliged to 
 protect the life of the attacked; not to mention that 
 death saves you from the danger of a lie. Hence death 
 precedes the lie, and a lie is never to be spoken. You 
 X 
 
3o6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 commence with the lie because you have an eye only 
 for the crooked path, and the straight path does not 
 even exist for you. 
 
 &. The proposition, that the correctness of the cog- 
 nition of others must be our end and aim, when applied 
 positively, results in the command to promote the correc t 
 insi ght of others, and to actually communicate to them 
 the truth, which we know. 
 
 We only need to point out the ground of this command 
 in order to see at once how far it extends, since it may be 
 well foreseen that it can be valid only within limits. I 
 am obliged to regard the other as a tool of the Moral 
 Law. But a result corresponding to his conception can 
 follow only in so far as he has a correct cognition of the 
 object of his action. I am bound to promote his causality, 
 and hence I am bound to communicate correct knowledge 
 to him, even without his request. To do so is, indeed, 
 necessary end for me in myself. But in how far? Of 
 course, in so far as his cognition has immediate influence 
 upon his acting, or in so far as it is immediately practical 
 to him. Hence a di stinction should be made between 
 immediate practicai cognitions and purely theoretical cog - 
 nitions.., But all theory relates to practice, as a thorough 
 transcendental philosophy shows, and a theory is not at 
 all possible without such relations. Hence the distinction 
 first made is altogether relative. Certain things may be 
 purely theoretical for one individual and for one age, 
 which for another individual or for another age is prac- 
 tical. Hence, to know what truth we owe to an indi- 
 vidual, we must first be able to determine what truth is 
 practical for such individual. How is this possible for us ? 
 
 It follows immediately from the acting of each indi- 
 vidual. The knowledge of the object of his acting is 
 immediately practical to him, and nothing else. Hence, 
 if I see my fellow-man act, and have rea son to assume 
 that he is not well cogniza nt of tne state oi circumstances' 
 respecting such act, or if I know for certain that he has , 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 307 
 
 an incorrect view of the same, it becomes my duty, 
 without further ado, or without awaiting his request, to"' 
 dispel his error ; for he is in a sort of danger to" do 
 something which will not achieve his purpose, and it is 
 not indifferent to a moral mode of thinking whether this 
 occurs or not. I cannot morally permit him to remain in 
 error. 
 
 I have always spoken of immediate practical truth, 
 and have presupposed that it is precisely because I 
 happen to be the first and nearest, why it should be 
 my duty to communicate it. It is, of course, not to be 
 understood here, as has already been remarked in regard 
 to another duty, that we should hunt up opportunities to 
 lead erring men into the right path. To do this we have 
 not time, if we always do what first occurs to us ; andour 
 virtue should, moreover, be natural — should always do 
 what it is requested to do. a n d not, perhaps, go in search 
 of adventures, for this is no truly virtuous sentiment. 
 
 To hunt up and make known truth, which is merely 
 theoretical, e ither for the age in general or for most of 
 the individuals of that age, is the duty of a particular 
 vocation — o f the vocati on of a scholar. This theoretical 
 truth is to become practical, but cannot become so 
 immediately and all at once, for on the way to the 
 perfectibility of the human race no step can be leaped 
 over. This class of scholars works for the future ages, 
 and stores up, as it were, treasures which can only be 
 made use of in those future ages. Of the duties of these 
 scholars we shall speak hereafter. 
 
 3. The formal f reedom o f an individual involves, as 
 we have seen'ti), the absolute freedom of the body , and 
 (2) the conti nu ation of its free influen ce upon the whole 
 sensuous world, 'l^lie latter causality we have just seen 
 to be condition ed by correctness of cognition, w hich gave 
 us the moral duties, negatively, not to lie; positively, 
 to correct errors of practical cognition. But the latter 
 causality has yet another condition. 
 
3o8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 If the rational being is to be free in its causality, i.e., if 
 the causality is to result in that which the rational being 
 had intended, then the state of all that, which has 
 reference to and which influences this causality, must 
 continue to remain precisely as it was known to be and 
 calculated upon in the purpose and intention of the 
 rational being. For if it changes during the act of the 
 individual, then the effect of that act also changes, and 
 the result is not as had been intended. (For further 
 proof of this, in -itself, very evident proposition, I refer 
 to my Science of Rights.) 
 
 That, which thus relates to my acting, and which is, as 
 it were, the premise of all my acting in the sensuous 
 world, can only be as part of that sensuous world, if I 
 live amongst other free beings. This determined part o f 
 the world . thus _sub.jected to my purpose and intentions, 
 is called, when recognized and guaranteed by society (and 
 this recognition and guarantee is legally and morally 
 necessary), my property . Without such recognition I 
 could never be^sure that my acting did not limit the 
 freedom of others, and hence I could never act with g ood 
 conscience. Only on the condition, iha X, all jiBzosnizi and 
 guarantee for me a. sphsilfe for my free acting, and tt 
 
 assure me that my actmg within such sphere will not, 
 disturb their freedoni, can 1. with good conscience, acLja t 
 all. This recogmta^ occurs immediately through the 
 "State wherem 1 live. "How it occurs mediately from the 
 whole human race, Jias been shown in my Science of Bights. 
 It is, therefore, firstly, the duty of everyone, who has 
 reached this insight, to introduce right of property, which 
 indeed does not come of itself, but must be introduced 
 intentionally, and accord ing to a fixe d conception. It is, 
 moreover, die duTv of each to acquire Dropertv. for it is 
 his duty to act with freedom; and this he cannot do, 
 because he is not sure whether he may not disturb the 
 freedom of others, unless he has property. This we say 
 here preliminarily, as a closer determination of the pro- 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 309 
 
 position already established, that a state must be erected, 
 and that each individual must become a member of it. 
 The freedom of each individual is to me an absolute 
 end, commanded by the moral law. This freedom is 
 conditioned by his having property and retaining it 
 inviolable. Hence the latter, as the condition of my 
 end, is also itself such end. 
 
 a. This disposition of the moral law, regarded negatively, 
 results in the prohibition : never to infure or diminish in 
 any manner anyone's pro perty, nor to render more difficult 
 ' Its utuity to ike proprutor. 
 
 Firstly: I must not use his property for my own 
 purposes, through robbery, theft, cheating, cunning, or 
 overreaching — all of which acts are, indeed, prohibited 
 for the very sake of their forms; the former, because 
 they involve an attack upon the body and life of the 
 other, and the latter because they presuppose falseness 
 and lying. But at present we look merely to the content 
 of these acts, namely, that they constitute a deprivation 
 of the other's property. They are prohibited, because 
 they interfere with the freedom of the person thus 
 deprived of his property. He has calculated upon its 
 continued possession, and has taken his measures accord- 
 ingly. If he is deprived of it altogether, his sphere of 
 causality and the measure of his physical power is 
 diminished ; if he has to acquire it again, he is at least 
 retarded in the course of his activity, and is forced to do 
 again what he had done already once before. 
 
 That immoral doctrine of morals , which generally 
 prrtrnrl'i^gffiftd pnrlFi,^-" '^^mMu^ Tiarl mpgna a-nA which has 
 been calle d Jesuitical m oraUtv (although we do not mean 
 to say that all Jesuits hold to it, and that none but 
 Jesuits hold to it), might object to the above^g?roposition, 
 and, in fact, does object to the following : " Provided the 
 goods thus taken are not destroyed, but merely made 
 temporary use of, the final promotion of the end of 
 reason is not checked, nay, is perhaps aided; if for 
 
3IO THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 instance, the party who took the goods employs them 
 better than the old proprietor would have employed 
 them. Supposing the one who takes them knows that 
 the original proprietor is going to make a bad use of 
 them, and himself intends a very laudable use to the 
 greater glory of God and greater service of his neighbour : 
 would he not act very morally, according to your own 
 principles ?" 
 
 I reply : To promote the good is a command addressed 
 to Ta.e conditionaUy, namely, in so far as it comes within 
 mv sphere and staSds within the power rightfully belon g- 
 ing to me : but to interfere with the fr eedom of the other 
 I am unconditionally prohibited. "~" 
 
 The reason why theft and the overreaching of the other 
 for the sake of pretended good purposes, are not defended 
 with the same obstinacy as "necessary lies," arises from 
 the fact that our civil laws, which have the preservation 
 of property at heart, above all other things, and have 
 placed severe punishment on its violation, have differently 
 formed our modes of thinking concerning this matter. 
 The New Zealander, for whom civil laws have not done 
 the same, doubtless steals for good purposes, as we live 
 for good purposes. 
 
 Secondly, I must not damacfe the property of the other. 
 neither intentionally, and with evil purpose in view, nor 
 from carelessness.; and from the same reason, namely, 
 because the free use of his property, and hence his 
 freedom generally, is thereby checked. So far as inten- 
 tional damage is concerned, not even a sophistry can be 
 produced in its defence ; it is absolutely immoral. So 
 far as damage through carelessness is concerned, it is my 
 duty to take the same care to protect the other's property, 
 which I take to preserve my own; for it is an end to me 
 from the same reason as my own, namely, as a means to 
 promote the rule of reason. 
 
 Finally, it is prohibited to render more difficult th e 
 utilizing of his property to the owner. The ground of 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 311 
 
 the prohibition is clear. The object of the property is, 
 that the owner should freely use it to promote his ends, 
 which I must assume as tending to realize the rule of 
 reason. To check the free use of his property is therefore 
 equal to cancelling the end of all property, and is, there- 
 fore, essentially the same as robbery. It is no excuse 
 that I intended thereby to prevent an evil and injurious 
 use of it. 
 
 To restore what has been taken or damaged, is alw ays 
 dut y. Without restoration there is no forgiveness, i.e., iio 
 reconciliation with myself. The strict proof is as 
 follows: He who thinks morally does not desire to 
 damage the other's property. But this damage continues 
 in its consequences until the complete restoration has 
 been accomplished. As sure as I therefore return to a 
 moral mode of thinking, I desire to have the conse- 
 quences cancelled, and thus the act annihilated ; and in 
 obedience to this desire I must do all in my power to 
 realize it. 
 
 6. The positive application of the requirement of the 
 moral law, that the property of the others shall be an end 
 to me, because it is a condition of their formal lawful 
 freedom, involves the following commands : 
 
 Firstly: Each man who attains the use of his reason 
 m ust have property . The proof has been turnishea 
 "above. He must be" able to act freely. , 
 
 Now 'the care to provide for everyone's property 
 belongs, first of all, to the State . Strictly speaking, 
 there is no rightful property at all in a State, where but 
 a single individual lacks property; ^.e., m the truest 
 sense of the word, as signiiying tne exclusive sphere for 
 free activity, and hence not merely objects, but likewise 
 exclusive rights, to certain arts (professions). For each 
 , one owns his property only in so far as all others ha^ 
 recognized it ; but they cannot have thus recognized J t 
 jmless he in return has recognized their property like- 
 wise. Jlence they must possess property. He who has 
 
312 TltE SClENCn OF ETHICS. 
 
 none, has not relinquished his claim to that of the others, 
 and therefore very justly claims it. This is the legal 
 aspect of the case. Hence it is the first duty of anyone 
 who has con vinced himself of this truth, to do what is m 
 ~}iis power to have it recognized and carried o ut in his 
 state. 
 ■~~But until this is done — and why should it not be done 
 once ? — it is the duty of each one to give to him who has 
 no property, some property ; or, in other words, it ishis 
 duty to \\p.'hi>mj>.'»^Un.t. ^ Bcnevolence, however, as everyone 
 will perceive, is a conditioned duty; it would not need 
 to act if the State did what it ought to do. 
 
 Let it be well observed : Benevolence consists in pro- 
 curing property for those who have none, or in securing to 
 them a certain and continued livelihood. We should try 
 and help one, or many, if possible, thoroughly, and for all 
 future time ; to obtain situations for those who have none, 
 labour for the labourless ; give, or loan, to the needy so 
 that they may again resume their work; educate, or assist 
 in educating, orphans, &c., &c, ; in short, we should do 
 wholly as many works of benevolence as possible, and not 
 merely put a little patch here or there. Only thus is our 
 benevolence rational and considerate. The proof lies in 
 the conception of benevolence ; each one is to have 
 property. 
 
 The usual p^iving of alms is a very doubtful good work. 
 He who gives an alms which does not alleviate altogether, 
 can rationally only have in mind to say : I cannot help 
 or will not help you ; hunt up others to do it ; and so 
 that you may be able to make your living until then, I 
 offer you this gift. The duty of almsgiving results from 
 the duty to preserve the life of our fellow-men. 
 
 The imploring of help from our fellow-men can have 
 no other object than to find a vocation and property from 
 individuals, since the State refused it to us. Now that 
 meg should have no other end in beg ^ ging alms, and should ^ 
 make beg^mg a vocation, is positively not to be tolerated; 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 313 
 
 and if the State tolerates it. it is the di]l-,y of each indi- 
 I vidual to do as much as possible to defeat this end", 
 and by no means to promote it through inconsiderate 
 weak-heartedness and wrongly understood duty. It is 
 understood that each one must be sure in his conscience 
 that he does not refuse benevolence from avarice and 
 natural hard-heartedness, merely pretending that higher 
 principle ; and whether this is so or not will easily appear 
 by noticing whether such a person does carry out the 
 prescribed works of a rational benevolence, whenever an 
 opportunity offers. How far do those depart from reason 
 and truth who make the giving of alms a religious exer- 
 cise, and who tolerate and promote beggary, so that the 
 faithful ones may not lack opportunity to do good works ! 
 As if such opportunities could ever lack ! 
 
 How far, then, does the duty of benevolence extend? 
 Is it sufficient to practise it so far as it does not become 
 troublesome to us at all, and to give away only that 
 which we cannot make use of ? By no means ; we must 
 take away from our selves, retre nch our own expenses, 
 become more economic al, ana labour mor e, in order to b e 
 able to do more ciiarity ; for he who is withojiLJ3£2E£lfc£L 
 ' has a claim uponTurptoperty^^ ^^^^^ 
 "^Cestthi^^m^S^urnecraround, and the conclusion 
 drawn that the poor have therefore a right to compel 
 support, I add the following. Those who are without 
 property have certainly a right to compel it from th£ 
 atate, and it is the business of both poor and rich to 
 labour and bring the State to a recognition and execution 
 of this, its duty. But so far as individuals are concerned, 
 "Ehe pocirmaircafl never k jioaLwhe ther it is precisely this 
 pna'o finfj^ or whether that one is in a position to extend 
 charity to him, or whether higher duties may- not restrain 
 them. 
 
 Secondly. Each one must retain what is his, for other- 
 wise his formal freedom is disturbed. Hence it is duty to 
 protect the property of the other against every attack, 
 
314 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 and without waiting to be requested ; and so to defend it 
 in the same measure as we would defend our own, for ,the 
 defence of both is means to promote the rule of reason; 
 and whether the attack be made by irrational forces of 
 Nature (fire and water), or by the injustice of rational 
 beings, and by the latter through violence or cunning. 
 Since the safety of his property is to be as dear to me as 
 my own, it is immediately evident that I must undertake 
 the defence of his at the risk of my own. How far this 
 extends, and in how far I am obliged to defend it at the 
 riskevga,of my life, we shall see in the following. 
 
 f thirdly : Tj^r-nperty is an obiect of duty because it is a 
 condition and tool of freedom. It is the end and aim ot 
 a morally-minded man, that others shall have as much 
 freedom — i.e., power and causality in the sensuous world 
 — as possible, in order thus to promote the final end of 
 reason. Hence it is also a duty to increase the utility 
 of the property of others. To accomplish much, it is not 
 so much necessary to possess a large amount of means, as 
 to have thorough control over those which we possess, so 
 that we may effect by them all that we desire to effect. 
 It is not a large, but a well-trained body, completely 
 under the domination of the will, which makes us free 
 and independent; and, in like manner, it is not a large 
 property, but a well-arranged property, which is easily 
 handled, and immediately applicable for every purpose, 
 whereby we grow independent; and as it is our duty to 
 bring our property into this condition, so it is now our 
 duty to have the same intention respecting the property 
 of others. Thus we should be ready to give advice and 
 assistance to others, though never forcing them upon 
 others ; and also to allow to our neighbour that which 
 will do him more good, in his position, than it would 
 benefit us. In short, readiness to oblige is a duty ; its 
 motive, however, must never be inconsiderate good- 
 heartedness, but the clearly-thought intention to promote 
 the causality of reason, as much as possible. It is a duty 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 315 
 
 to refuse entreaties, the granting of which, according 
 to our own best insight, would do our neighbour more 
 injury than good; but such refusal should be accom- 
 panied by rational arguments to correct the other's 
 conceptions, and induce him voluntarily to desist from 
 his entreaties. 
 
 Fourthly : The whole sensuous world is to be brought 
 und er the rule of reason, anc( to become its tool m tt ie 
 Jiands of rational bemgs . But in the present sensuous 
 world all things are connected with each other, and 
 hence no part thereof is wholly and unlimitedly under 
 the dominion of reason , unless all parts are so. Applying 
 this here, it results in the command : That everything 
 useful ^'t;i, the wnrl^j mngh Vip. pnh t.n nsp- and Smce it Can 
 be put to proper use only in becoming property, that 
 evervthin cf Tnn.st, become property. It is the end of the 
 morally good man to bring this about. As every man is 
 to have a property, so shall also each object in this world 
 be the property of some one man. 
 
 Particularly through the practice of these third and 
 fourth commandments, is the dominion of reason in the 
 sensuous world put upon the most solid basis. Through 
 the third, that each one should care, not only for the use 
 of his own property, and for the attainment of his private 
 ends, but likewise for the proper utilizing of the property 
 of all: should work for, and promote their activity as 
 they all should promote his : Eeason is united into one, 
 and becomes one and the same wiU in the minds of all, 
 however empirically different they may be. Through the 
 fourth and last, all Nature is comprehended by, and 
 gathered together under, this one will. Eeason is a unit 
 in itself, and the sensuous world is subordinated to it. 
 This is the end proposed to us. 
 
 B. There is no conflict between the freedom of rational 
 being s m general, i .e., it is not a contradiction, that many 
 beings in the same sensuous world should be free. There 
 
3i6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 is only one c ase, where the pos sibility of freedom for 
 many, or the pJjssibiiity of the co-existence of Iwo 
 rational individua ls, is cancelled by Nature itself ; and of 
 this case we shall speak hereafter. A conflict' between 
 determined free acts of rational beings arises only when 
 one person m«s his freedom illegally or immorally for the 
 suppression of the freedom of the other. All of which 
 will ajppear hereafter. 
 
 Ml shall bp. frpp.^ The USB of freedom in many in- 
 dividuals must not mutually check and contradict itself. 
 This is alsolute requirement of the moral law, and hence 
 it is the duty of each to promote 1}he co-exis£ence of the 
 freedom of all. But this co-existence is only possible 
 through each person limiting with freedom — for each is 
 to be and remain free — the use of his freedom to a 
 certai n sphere, which all others exclusively leave to him ;( 
 
 3Jid leaving on his part to the others all the rest for* 
 division amongst themselves. Thus in the same sensuous 
 world Rfl.p,h nnp. is frp^p. i n his part without checking the 
 jreedom of anyone el se. This ir^ea is realized in the 
 
 ^tate, which, moreover, since Jihe good will oi the in - 
 ■dividual cannot be counted upon, k eeps each individual 
 within his limits. What each one's duty is in respectTo"' 
 the State we have already shown. The State thus keeps 
 
 _us bv compulsion in the order which it has establisKM 
 amongst the indivicluals. Hence if a conflict arises 
 amongst them respecting the use of their freedom, it is 
 the duty of the State to settle such conflict ; and it is 
 the duty of each individual to leave the settlement of 
 such conflict to the State. Hence, for the present, it is 
 not at all to be seen how individuals can have duties in 
 conflicts of their freedom. It rather seems as if each 
 one had fulfilled this duty, fully in advance, by assisting 
 in the establishment of a State, and subjecting himself 
 to its laws. But it happens often that the State cannot 
 settle such conflicts immediately, and it is in such cases 
 that the duties of the private individual arise again. 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 317 
 
 Thus we have gained for the present this proposition : all 
 
 duties of which wp, shall spRalc at, present can only arise 
 
 ^in ca ses where the State cannot assist, an d only in so faf ~ 
 
 ~as the atate canii^E &S5l^t. What this may mean will 
 
 appear in the separate instances. 
 
 But we must preface another remark. It is all the 
 same whether my own freedom, or the freedom of one of 
 my fellow-men, is endangered through the illegal use of 
 freedom on the part of another; for, as has often heen 
 stated, the freedom of the other is entrusted t,n mv car e 
 Aom the same ground as my own, and hence is end f or 
 me to ||hp. saniR degree, mere is no aisnncfJon between 
 the duty of self-defence and that of the defence of others; 
 both are the same duty of the defence of freedom in 
 general. 
 
 Fr eedom is, as we have seen, conditioned by life, body, 
 a ncTprope rty! True, the use of freedom also requires 
 cognition of truth ; but there never can arise a conflict 
 between the cognition of different persons, since truth is 
 not divisible like bodies and goods, but is one and the 
 same, common equally to all ; and since there is not for 
 each individual a separate truth, as there is for each an 
 own body and separate property: hence the following 
 cases of possible conflicts arise : 
 
 1. The preservation of the bodies and lives of different 
 persons may be in conflic t. 
 
 2. The preservation of the property of different per sons 
 may be in conflict. ~~ ' 
 
 3. The preservation of body and life, and the preserva- 
 tion of _property may be in conflict. 
 
 I. Firstly. The preservation of my mm, life and the 
 preservation of the, life of another, it appears, in certain 
 cases cannot eo-exist together ; and this not through any 
 injustice. of my own or of the other, but simply through 
 a disposition of Nature. Kature apparen tly withdraws 
 tb«-^ossib^ ity of the co-existence of botE Instances"! 
 will not cite^ In the Science 'of .K^^yfetspt llg"^ase has been 
 
3i8 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 treated at length, and decided as follows : that in such a 
 case the question of rights does not occur at all, and 
 since in that science only rights are taken cognizance of, 
 the matter is left to the arbitrariness o f each. 
 
 But the moral law decides quite differently. 
 
 preserve my own life as tool of the moral law : 
 
 skall likewise preserve the life of the o ther trom tne 
 same ground. The moral law commands both equally 
 unconditionally. We are both to be regarded as tools 
 of the moral law, and simply, as such, objects of a duty. 
 The natura LLm pulse. of course, leads me to prefer myself ; 
 but that impulse is not to be counted on at all^ and, 
 accoi^ding to the moral law, neither of us has advantages, 
 since in the face of this law we are both equally means 
 of the same reason. I cannot fulfil the command of the 
 moral law to preserve myself, except at the expense of 
 the life of the other, according to our presupposition; 
 and this the moral law prohibits. I cannot save the life 
 of the other, except at the expense of my own ; and this 
 the moral law prohibits likewise. Each command of the 
 moral law is in this case opposed by a prohibition : hence 
 both commands annihilate each other ; the law i s utterly 
 silent, and I, who am impelled only by it, must do 
 nothing, but must quietly await the issue. 
 
 In our proof this proposition occurs: we are both 
 equally tools of the moral law. This proposition has 
 been attacked, and the theory established that it is proper 
 to consider, who may be the best tool of the moral law, 
 that the older one should sacrifice himself for the younger, 
 the less talented for the more talented, &c. I reply : It 
 is absolutely impossible to judge from whose preservatio n 
 ' the most good would result, f or finite understanaing Kas " 
 "no possible way of deciding what may be of greatest 
 advantage in connection with all other things. Hence 
 this decision should be left to the world's government of 
 reason, wherein upon this standpoint we hav e faith . The 
 finite understanding knows only that it ought to do in 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 319 
 
 every moment of life, whereunto duty impels, without 
 caring how much, and in what manner, good may result 
 from it. Whosoever is preserved, from his preservation 
 it is certain that good wiU result, since the world is 
 governed by the highest wisdom and love. Whosoever 
 perishes, to him no blame attaches ; he has done what he 
 could do, and for the rest the moral law which rules the 
 world is responsible, if we can speak of responsibility in 
 this connection. 
 
 " But if we both wait quietly for the result, we both 
 shall perish, whereas otherwise one of us might be saved." 
 Let me tell you firstly, that this neither of us knows. 
 Though we see no means of escape, such means may 
 nevertheless appear. But secondly, supposing we both 
 do perish, what then ? Our preservation is not end and 
 object at all, but the fulfilment of the moral law is that 
 object : hence, if we perish, such has been the will of the 
 moral law. It is fulfilled, and our end is attained. 
 
 Secondlv. Cases may occur wherein tnany of my fellow- 
 men are in danger of life and body. It is my duty to 
 save ; but I cannot save all, or, at least, not all at once. 
 How am I to select ? 
 
 My object is, and must necessarily be, to save all, for 
 
 all are tools of the moral law, and there is herein no 
 
 distinction to be made. Now if I desire to save all, I 
 
 will first of all render assistance to those who are in t he 
 
 mnst im mfidiatp. danf? p. r. since they cannot preserve them- 
 
 selves any longer without foreign assistance, whether 
 
 their danger be thus most imminent from the state of 
 
 matters, or from their own weakness and helplessness : as, 
 
 for instance, ch ildren, sick, and old pefsonsT If amongst 
 
 i them there are such, whose welfare is more specially , 
 
 I entrusted to my individual care — who ar e mine, own — 
 
 I theifTihese must have the preference: but let it be well 
 
 observed, not from any natural pathognomonical affection, ~^ 
 
 or from care for my own happiness — ^^such motives are to 
 
 be condemned — but because their preservation is my 
 
320 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 particular duty, and because particular duty always 
 precedes general duty. 
 
 If no such grounds of preference exist, then I must 
 save whomsoever I can first save, whomsoever I see first. 
 To consider the relative importance of this or that life is, 
 in such a case, not allowable, for I cannot know anything 
 respecting this point. 
 
 Thirdly. Cases may arise of hostile and unjust possible 
 attacks upon my life and body, or upon the body of some- 
 one else; for that must be the same to me. Here the 
 question arises : In how far may I endanger the life of 
 the aggressor in defending my own ? It is absolute duty 
 to defend the life of the attacked party, whether it be I 
 or another ; ' but this does not cancel the duty to spare 
 ' and preserve the life of the aggressor. Hence mv object 
 ca,n never be to Ml the aggressor, but merely to re nder'' 
 h^'m harmlPi^ ^^ I ought, therefore, to call for the help^ol 
 others, if they are near, and thus of the State. I ought 
 likewise only to repel the attack as well as I am able, 
 without endangering the aggressor himself. If I cannot 
 do this, I should rather maim or wound him ; anything 
 so that his death be not my object. If he does get killed, 
 it results against my intention, though chance and I are 
 not responsible for it. 
 
 It might be objected, and many moralists have 
 objected : " But still you have exposed the life of the 
 aggressor to danger. Now, if the matter only concerns 
 yourself, and if yourself are the attacked, why do you 
 not rather die than expose the other to danger ? " In 
 order to thoroughly and clearly refute this objection, I 
 shall compare the presupposed case with the one just 
 considered. In the latter it was my duty to preserve my 
 life, and so it is in the supposed case ; but I was not to 
 preserve it at the expense of the life of the other. Now 
 there is firstly this great distinction: In that case the 
 conviction was before me that my self-preservation must 
 entail the death of the other ; but in the supposed case it 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 321 
 
 is not necessary, not proposed to kill him In that case, 
 moreover, the life of the other was in the hands of 
 Nature, and would surely, in my conviction, be taken 
 from him the moment I preserve my own. But in the 
 supposed case this rests within my own power; a power 
 which is controlled by my free will; and it is not my will 
 to kill him, nor do I foresee and presuppose that he will 
 be killed. But secondly, and which is the decisive point : 
 the duty to act here in self-defence, is based not only 
 upon the duty to preserve my own life, but at the same 
 time upon the duty to prevent something evidently 
 prohibited by the moral law, namely, murder. What 
 the moral law absolutely forbids, the moral man cannot 
 allow to happen at any price ; for his will is the will of 
 the moral law. Now this does not happen in the above 
 case, where there is nothing immoral to be prevented. 
 
 As soon as the aggressor is disarmed, my defence ceases. 
 I have nothing else for him but rational arguments. If 
 there is anything more to be done in his case, to promote 
 general security, to establish an example for others, or to 
 prevent himself from doing similar things, these are 
 matters for the State to settle, into whose hands he is 
 now transferred. The State is his judge, not I as an 
 individual. 
 
 2. The pr eservation of t he pr operty of diiferent persons 
 is in conflict, and seems mutually to cancel itself. My 
 property, and the property of another, is, at the same 
 time, in danger. In that case the preservation of mine 
 comes first, for I naturally first observe its danger, and 
 thus first receive the command of the moral law to save 
 it ; and whosoever has already a determined duty to fulfil, 
 must not leave it for another. I also naturally suppose 
 that the other will do the same in regard to his own 
 property. Of course I must be sure, in my own con- 
 science, that I thus prefer my own from reasons of duty, 
 and not of selfishness. I must save mine not as mine, 
 but as part of the common property of reason. Whether 
 
 Y 
 
32^ THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 I really do so regard it, will easily appear afterward from 
 the fact whether I so apply it or not; whether I am 
 ready to serve and assist my other unfortunate neighbour 
 with it, and to divide, so far as I am able to do so, with 
 him, that which I have saved. 
 
 The mere possibility that my property may get into 
 danger, does not absolve me from the duty to save that of 
 my neighbour which is actually in danger. For so long as 
 the danger to mine is merely possible, I have nothing to 
 do; but to do nothing and to rest, except where duty 
 commands, is immoral. 
 
 It is absolutely inimoral to protect one's own property 
 ^t the expense of the other's ; or to parry a danger which 
 threatens our property, by putting it, in whole or in patrt, 
 upon our neighbour's. If it had happened to him, he 
 would have been forced to bear it, and we to help him to 
 bear it ; but now, it has happened not to him, but to us. 
 The moral man sees in this a dispensation of providence. 
 He grapples with the danger as well as he can, but he 
 does not try to make another one suffer what providence 
 sent to him. 
 
 Life is worth more than pronerty ; for life is the condi' 
 tion of propertY. and not property the condition of-HS. 
 Hence we must save the lives of our fellow-men before 
 saving their property, must prefer the safety of our and 
 their lives to that of our and their property, whenever 
 the danger to that property comes from irrational forces 
 of Nature. How the relation may be changed, if the 
 danger arises from the injustice of rational beings, we 
 shall see directly. 
 
 3. The preservation of body and life may conflict with 
 the preservation of property. 
 
 My property, or the property of the other, which ought 
 to be the same to me, may be attacked by rational beings. 
 For such a case it is not merely the property which is to 
 be preserved, but an immoral and illegal action which is 
 to be prevented. Now, the will of the moral law is the 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 323 
 
 will of the moral man, and hence he cannot permit what 
 the moral law does not suffer. It is, therefore, absolute 
 duty to prevent robbery, in as much as it is absolutely against 
 the moral law, and as each can categorically assert it thus 
 to be. Let not this last clause be overlooked. An attack 
 upon the property of the other is absolutely against the 
 moral law, solely in so far as the aggressor has recognized 
 it as property. Hence, in so far as he is a member of the 
 State. It is, therefore, absolutely illegal and immoral 
 when it is committed by one citizen of a State upon a 
 fellow-citizen of the same State, or of a State at peace 
 with his State ; but it is not absolutely illegal and 
 immoral when committed by an avowed enemy. For 
 in the latter case there is a law dispute between the 
 States at war with each other, and it is problematical 
 in law what side may be in the right ; hence, no one has 
 the power to assume the decision of this point, since the 
 other one does not recognize his authority. 
 
 I must prevent robbery ; this is an absolute command. 
 But what means may I use for the purpose, in how far 
 may I use force, and in how far may I expose my own 
 life, and the life of the other, to danger ? 
 
 Firstly, the case may be of a nature which permits of 
 a remedy on the part of the State — if not at once, at 
 least hereafter. In such a case the State can an nihi late 
 the unjust ac t ; and it is, therefore, duty to do nothing im- 
 mediately, and to expose neither myself nor the aggressor 
 to danger, but to notify the State of the matter. This 
 case arises when the property taken is of a nature that 
 it can be known, and when the State has guaranteed its 
 possession, or when the person of the- aggressor is known 
 to us. In the latter case, however, it is necessary, and 
 hence duty, to provide proper proofs for the State. 
 
 Secondly, the case may be of such a nature that if I 
 do not resist on the spot, the unjust act becomes success^ 
 ful so far as I can foresee. In such a case it is duty to 
 resist by force ; but with the same precaution enjoined in 
 
324 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 the defence of life and body. If the aggressor resists, it 
 becomes a fight for life and death. My life is attacked, 
 and the matter comes under the rules established for 
 such a case. I no longer defend my property, but my 
 life, and at the risk of my life. 
 
 It might be objected to this that I have myself brought 
 affairs to such a pass by offering resistance, and that I 
 myself have changed a fight for mere property into one 
 for body and life. I reply: Morally I was bound to 
 resist the robbery of my property. I could not, and was 
 not bound to assume that the aggressor would resist my 
 attempt to drive him away, for I must always assume 
 that the moral law will be followed, and not violated. It 
 is, moreover, understood that I have attempted to dissuade 
 him by rational arguments. It is altogether the fault of 
 the aggressor that the affair has become one of life and 
 death : he ought to have been deterred by my resistance. 
 
 Thirdly, in cases of complaints preferred before the 
 State — and not merely in the present instance, but 
 generally — the moral law prescribes as follows: 
 
 Whenever the State requires notification of such 
 violence it is my duty to give it, since "obedience to the 
 State is duty. But when it is left to my free will, 
 whether I choose to prefer such or not — and the State 
 has its limits in this respect: for instance, in private 
 affairs which happen in one's own house the rule is, where 
 there is no plaintiff there is no judge — the moral law 
 requires that I should not prefer it at once. The ground 
 is as follows : The State does not convince. Whether we 
 acknowledge, or do not acknowledge, the justice of its 
 decision, we still must submit to it, and it is carried out 
 
 I with physical force; for^Jhe Stat e treats man not as a 
 rational being, but as a force ot l^ature wbich must b e 
 restricted to its limits ; and the State is right in doing 
 so, since it was established for this purpose. Now, in 
 private, affairs the State acts in my name when it does 
 act, for it does not act unless I empower and call upon it 
 
THk THEORY OF DUTIES. 325 
 
 to do so, and would not act if I did not do so. Hence, 
 
 what the State does is to be ascribed to me. But / am 
 
 required to treat my fellow- man not as mere force of 
 
 \. Nature, but as a rational being, if I can possibly thus 
 
 1 arrange with him. I am therefore bound, before pre- 
 
 ftferring snil-. a.pa-j pst him, to try arguments, and see 
 
 f. whether I cannot bring my opponent, through rational 
 
 representations, to confess his injustice, and to resolve 
 
 voluntarily to make it good. 
 
 If these representations are of no avail, then it becomes 
 duty to prefer suit ; for his unjust act must not succeed, 
 but be defeated. It might be objected : " But from what 
 point of time do I know for certain that they will be of 
 no avail; and how can I ever know that they will be of no 
 avail ? Does it not therefore remain my duty always to 
 presuppose that they might be successful ? " I reply : 
 The point here is to make restoration. This must be 
 done within a certain time, hence I cannot fix a deter- 
 mined time either for myself or him. If my suit before 
 the courts force him to restore and make good the damage 
 done, I shall still be able, and it will still remain my duty, 
 to convince him, through remonstrances, that he ought to 
 have done voluntarily what now he is compelled to do, 
 and thus to subject his will to the law, as weU as his 
 external action has been so subjected through compulsion. 
 Hence I must regard and treat, both pending and after 
 the trial, my opponent as a rational and moral person. In 
 the same manner I must likewise, as we have already 
 seen, seek to preserve him as a possible tool of morality, 
 even if I have become involved with him in a fight of life 
 and death. This gives us occasion to speak, in the present 
 place, about love tmuards our enemies, concerning which 
 otherwise we should have nothing particular to say, since 
 all that can be said about it is already involved in the 
 previously established principles; and it is merely to 
 remove some misunderstandings that I touch upon this 
 point. 
 
326 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Pathogaomonical love, or a separate inclination towards 
 th is or that person, is not moral^ but merely uatnral" Tt 
 
 must neverj^be^tbe motive_2gwg'^-0|— 2!IL-g£^- ^^ '^ 
 ■^fnerffljagreeaTnarsucr^ov^Eowara^ou^^ is 
 
 not commanded by the moral law; and if some say it 
 is not so commanded simply because it is not possible, 
 only the ground assigned is not correct. Why should it 
 not be possible ? Might we not feel a particular inclina- 
 tion, arising from some natural ground, towards any 
 person that perhaps hates and persecutes us, merely 
 because this inclination is not reciprocated ? No ; this 
 love is not commanded, simply because it is not a moral 
 love • is not something dependent upo n our tree will, but 
 dependent upon a natural impulse. 
 
 Vet, on thp. other ha.Tirl those are also mista.Ven who 
 assert that this command requires not at all any intern al 
 jjffpnfi'/^yi^l^nt, T^^^.rpiy ^]^ ovfomfi] pi^j-^- and that it is suffi- 
 cient to act, as if we did love our enemy, no matter how 
 much we may hate him in point of fact. This assertion 
 is false, because no act is moral which does not emanate 
 from an internal disposition; and because such a command 
 would merely require legality towards our enemy, which 
 the moral law immediately never commands. 
 
 The solution is as foUows : From the standpoint of 
 morality there is only one view from which to look upon 
 our fellow-men, namely, I must regard them as tools of 
 reason. But as such I must regard all without exception, 
 no matter how much their present actions may lead me to 
 conclude the contrary. Even if he is not such now, I 
 must never abandon the hope that he may become such, 
 as has been abundantly proved above. The same holds 
 good of my enemy. I must love him: that is to say, 
 must believe him capable of reforming; and this love I 
 must evince in deed : that is to say, I must assist with all 
 my power in his reform. 
 
 Moreover, which should be well observed, the moral man 
 has no personal enemy, and recognizes none, ""jslothing. 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 327 
 
 indeed, is hateful to him, and he seeks to overthrow 
 nothing except the evil, and this simply because it is 
 evil. Whether such evil be directed against him or 
 against anyone else, is all the same to him, for he holds 
 himself as absolutely nothing more than anyone else, 
 namely, as a mere tool of the moral law. 'There is "no 
 reason at all why he should think worse of the man who 
 happens to stand in his way, and should sooner despair of 
 him than of one who stands in the way of some good 
 cause or another. Whoever feels an offence deeper 
 because it has touched Mm, may be sure that he is an 
 egotist, and is very far yet from true morality. 
 
 Concluding Eemaek. 
 
 Although the duty of truthfulness is not to be discussed 
 here, since no collision can arise concerning it, something 
 nevertheless results from it, to which we must refer in 
 few words : Honour and good revute. 
 
 Honour and good repute, in a moral sense, consist in 
 this : That others should believe us to be possibly actuated 
 in our actions generally, and particularly in our relations 
 to them, by a regard only for the good and the just. This 
 opinion each one should , have of the other, as we have 
 seen, for each one should consider the other as a possible 
 tool of morality ; and should thus entertain it until the 
 contrary is proved for the present, and even then he 
 should not- abandon the hope of future reform. This 
 opinion which others entertain of us, conditions our in- 
 fluence upon them, and hence it is our duty to retain and 
 defend it. Decided indiiference to all evil reports which 
 may be scattered against us, is indifference to, and con- 
 tempt of, the men upon whom we are to work, and to our 
 own moral destination; and hence it is a very immoral 
 mode of thinking. It needs no particular self-control tp 
 become, in a natural way, indiiferent to the judgments 
 of others. We only need to look a little closer at the 
 
328 THR SCIEMCR OF ETHICS. 
 
 men as they generally are, to learn not to place too great 
 a value upon their judgments. But a moral man should 
 not let this indifference grow upon him ; he should always 
 see in men rather that which they shall be, and become 
 thus that which they actually are. 
 
 Now, if anyone has attacked this our honour, and we 
 can only defend it by communicating of him what must 
 hurt his character, it is our duty to do so. It is, for 
 instance, our duty to say and to prove that the other has 
 told the untruth. The matter stands here in precisely 
 the relation as when we defend our life and property 
 against an unjust attack. We must defend it even at the 
 risk of the aggressor. 
 
 C. Hitherto we have seen that it is our duty to spare and 
 promote the formal freedom of our fellow-men, since we 
 are morally bound to regard each one who bears a human 
 face, as a tool of the moral law. All men outside of us 
 generally, and their freedom in particular, are objects of 
 duty to us solely, in so far as we presuppose that they are 
 such tools ; for otherwise they would be merely irrational 
 objects, to be treated according to our own pleasure, and 
 to be subjected to our arbitrary ends. We are, therefore, 
 bound, as sure as we act upon them, to treat them as 
 moral beings ; and only this view of them determines our 
 manner of acting in relation to them. From this, already 
 it is evident that we should promote the general accepta- 
 tion of this view, and should aid in having their freedom 
 applied to the promotion of the ends of reason. It is 
 indeed easy to prove this, even in an immediate manner. 
 The will of the moral man is the will of the moral law 
 itself. Now the moral law wills the morality of all 
 rational beings, and hence the moral man must desire the 
 same. But his will cannot be an impotent, powerless 
 will, since he is a tool of the moral law, as an individual 
 having power in the sensuous world. He will, therefore, 
 necessarily seek to realize this, his necessary will, with all 
 
THE THEOkV OP DUTIES. 329 
 
 his power. The proof that it is absolute and general 
 duty to promote and extend morality outside of us, offers 
 therefore no difficulty. It is a little more difficult to 
 state in what manner this may be possible. For that 
 alone can be called moral which proceeds from our own 
 free resolve without the least compulsion, and without 
 the least external motive. It seems, therefore, impossible 
 to communicate morality, or to furnish the least assist- 
 ance in this communication. The command to extend 
 morality seems, therefore, completely empty and im- 
 practicable, and nothing seems to remain to us but 
 impotent wishes; for how could we promote morality 
 except through sensuous causality, and how can sensuous 
 causality ever awaken freedom ? This is, indeed, un- 
 deniably true in many respects, which we shall proceed 
 to state. 
 
 I. First of all, a morally-minded man can never think 
 of bringing men to virtue by compulsory means— as threats 
 of punishment, or promises of rewards, whether held out 
 in the name of the State and some powerful ruler, or in 
 the name of an Almighty Being. All acts, which are 
 impelled by such motives, are absolutely devoid of 
 morality. It being still customary to attempt to weaken 
 and limit this proposition, and to hold up the system of 
 a virtue of punishments and rewards by various pretexts, 
 I shall prove my assertion with greatest strictness. 
 
 All impulse after happiness is based upon the natural 
 impulse. I desire this or that object because my nature 
 has an impulse for it, and I do not desire it because there 
 is in my nature an aversion against it. Now if this 
 impulse is made use of, to induce me to commit certain 
 acts, these acts thus become conditions of the satisfying 
 of such impulse ; and in this manner the satisfying of 
 my natural impulse evidently remains the ultimate end of 
 my acts, and my acts themselves are merely the means, 
 and are merely considered by me as means for such end. 
 But therein consists precisely the essence of immorality, 
 
330 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 that the satisfying of our natural impulse is the ultimate 
 end of my acting,, whereas the law requires that I utterly 
 subordinate this impulse to a higher prompting. Hence, 
 by inducing me to these acts, I have not been made 
 moral ; but have, on the contrary, been deplorably con- 
 firmed in my immorality, since this my immorality has 
 been authorized and cultivated through something which 
 has been preached to me as a doctrine of morals, and 
 which has been held up to me as the highest and holiest. 
 All hope of morality has been thus annihilated, by sub- 
 stituting immorality in its place, and all inclination and 
 presentiment of morality has been utterly rooted out. 
 To treat men in this manner is to treat them as brutes. 
 We make use of the brute's instincts to develop in it the 
 qualities we have in vievi ; and, in like manner, we would 
 train instead of cultivate man. 
 
 Let us, therefore, avoid all those equally indefinite and 
 shallow,injurious,and all true morality-eradicating pretexts, 
 as, "We do not want the rewards to be the only end of the 
 virtuous, we merely want him to have it also iu view"; 
 or, " The reward is not to be the chief, but merely one of 
 the ends." By no means. Eeward is not to be an end 
 at al l. Ev^;)r^act dnnp jEEtUft--^"]? ^- °l i yeward. or fear of 
 I punishmeiji t ,, is .abaolutelv immoral. 
 
 Let it not be said, "We only want to use this means in 
 the beginning, until we have made men more open to pure 
 morality." By the use of such means you do not at all 
 begin true moral sentimen t, but continue the old immoral 
 disposition , which you thus, moreover, carefully preserve 
 and cultivate. In fact, your whole pretext, that men are 
 not fit for pure morality in certain states, is a pure in- 
 vention, and your distinction between a pure and a not 
 pure morality is downright absurd. There are no two 
 moralities; there is simply one morality: and that morality 
 which is not pure, which does not proceed altogether from 
 I the idea of duty, is no morality at all. For here we speak 
 altogether of ihe,moT?S^disposition, and not of the com- 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 331 
 
 pleteness or incompleteness of the external realization of 
 this disposition in actual acting. 
 
 2. Nor can morality he compelled through theoretical 
 conviction. For, firstly, theoretical convictions them- 
 selves cannot be compelled : a true proposition, which 
 explains many phenomena in men, but which the pro- 
 fessional philosophe rs rarely take to heart, because it 
 would disturb them in their phantasm, that tliey can 
 improve or reform men through syllogisms. No one 
 "becomes convinge d'unless he neneiirate intoTiimself and 
 mternallj^ feels th e agreem ent o| liip self jsitb the trutfiT" 
 uttere d; which agreement is an effect of t he heart , and 
 on no account a conclusion drawn by the un^Sstanding. 
 This attention to_our self depen^ds^ upon freedom, and 
 hence conviction is always freely given, never forced. I 
 do not mean to say that we can freely convince ourselves 
 of anything we choose to, for we can only convince 
 ourselves, and desire to convince ourselves, of truth ; but 
 it is not necessary that we convmce ourselves of^ the 
 JirillltLL.t''^''^-"""^^^^^ ^Pp^da_ui ^n our free wil l. Con - 
 yiction is an ac^ of reason- — reason suljectinci herself, 
 t.hrnngh an ant, nf her self-activitv. to truth — and is not 
 a passivity of reason. To convince ourselves of propo- 
 sitions which check our passions, pres'ujaposes a ruling 
 good will, and hence that will cannot first be produced^ 
 by our conviction. 
 
 3. Since, nevertheless, we shall probably be compelled to 
 exercise moral influence only through reasoning, which 
 can only be done in the way of theoretical argumentation, 
 we have, at least, gained so much for the present that 
 this influence presupposes already the principle of good 
 and evil in the subject to which it is addressed, and 
 that thus all promotion of morality would be impossible, 
 could we not everywhere confidently presuppose this 
 principle. 
 
 It can, indeed, be shown that there is something 
 ineradicable in human nature, with which moral culture 
 
332 THE SCIENCE OF ETHlCS. 
 
 can always be connected. This is the sentiment of^esteem^ 
 This sentiment may lie undeveloped in the soul; but it 
 can neither be eradicated, nor directed upon an object 
 foreign to it. We may love, seek, and desire sensuous 
 enioyment , and may feel delight in experiencing it, 
 but we can never hold it in esteem; esteem does not 
 apply to it at all ! Again, wherever this sentiment finds 
 its application it results without fail: whatsoever is 
 esteemable is sure to be esteemed.. Hence, the first rule 
 for the extension of morality will be as follows : Show t o 
 vour fellow -men eatep.mable things, and in this respect 
 we can scarcely show them anything more to the pur- 
 pose than our own moral mode of thinking and moral 
 behaviour. Thus there results the duty of a qooA 
 .e xample , to which we shall return hereafter, at present 
 proceedings, our logical way. The first step in moral 
 culture is, therefore, the development of esteem. 
 
 4. As soon a s man is forced t o esteem something outside 
 of himself , the desire to esteem himself awakens in him. 
 This impulse of self-esteem, as soon as it has once been 
 awakened through some external motive, is as ineradicable 
 from human nature as self-love . No man can bear to 
 coldly despise himself, and quietly to regard himself as a 
 wicked and miserable wretch. But it is equally impos- 
 ^sible that he should esteem himself, if he is contemptible. 
 
 Of course, this does not improve the mo ral con dition 
 pf man in the slightest decree, but often rather.inakes it 
 considerably worse. For in order to escape the insuffer- 
 able torture of self-contempt, man falls into two ways, " 
 and often into both together. He seeks t o escape himself , 
 because he fears himself ; he takes care not to look into 
 his inner soul, because this shows him nothing but terrific 
 objects. In order to get rid of himself, he dissipates all 
 the more in the object of the external world. JBe stupe- 
 fies his conscience.. But as this means is not a complete 
 remedy, he seelss to get rid of the forced esteem of some- 
 thing outside of himself, and the self-contempt which 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 333 
 
 results therefrom, by tryinp; to persuade himse lf that that 
 esteem is all humbug aad foolishness ; that there does 
 not exist anything that is esteemable, noble, and sublime ; 
 that it is all only appearance and deception ; that no man 
 is better than himself, and that human nature in general 
 is no better. It is idle to try and refute this system b y 
 rational arguments. Jor its ground lies not in reaso n, but 
 in the he art : and it would be necessary first to root out 
 this ground in the heart, or to relieve such a man from 
 his self-shame and self-fear, jffe is thus at variance with 
 ^all that is f^ood. simply because he is in conflict with 
 himself . Let us first try and reconcile him to. himself : 
 let us show him that he himself is not so utterly devoid 
 of all good, as he would himself believe ; let us first lead 
 him back to the good principle in himself. 
 
 Immorality is, therefore, either complete brutishness, 
 and this must first be cultured by the above means (Jr 
 teaching man to esteem something outside of himself ; 
 or it is despair of one's self : and this is to be cured 
 by showm^ucn a man that at .least others do not despair 
 of him, by showing him confidence and making him 
 acquainted, on particular occasions, with the hidden good 
 in himself. He, in whom others evince confidence, will 
 soon also have some confidence in himself; but he, of 
 whom all others dp.spair must certainly begi n to despa ir 
 of himself. 
 
 Thus, m oar theory, everything is connected, and each 
 link attached to the other. We have already shown that 
 it is absolutely immoral to despair internally of the 
 reform of any man. That which we there showed to be 
 an internal duty, and a regulative of our external acts, 
 now again shows itself to be a means for the promotion 
 of our ultimate end ; and it becomes a duty to manifest 
 this internal confidence likewise very decisively in 
 external actions. 
 
 The good principle which exists in all men, and which 
 can be eradicated in none, is precisely the possibility to 
 
334 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 be able to esteem something unselfishly, and hence with- 
 out all regard to advantages ; and thus absolutely d priori 
 and without any ground. It is also the impulse to desire 
 one's self-esteem, and the impossibility to sink down to 
 the infamy of being able quietly and coolly to despise 
 one's self. Let men be led back to this principle. Let them 
 be shown that it lies at the basis of all their behaviour. 
 Let it be said, for instance, to those who abs olutely deny 
 the poss ibility of a n unselfish"~ impul se m man, to men 
 like Helvetius, &c. r^'"?ou'say you have discovered that 
 1 men '"are only impelled by selfish motives; that they 
 deceive themselves if they report otherwise. Very well, 
 this is a good thing for you ; make use of this discovery 
 as much as you are able to do, and go your ways. But 
 why do you communicate this matter to us ? _Whatjio_ 
 .you gain, since all men, and you among st them, can only 
 act from selfish motivesby com municating°it" to us; or" 
 whab danger do you thereby turn away from yourTieads ? 
 If the deception to believe otherwise does produce any 
 damage, it certainly causes none to you, since you assure 
 us that you do not believe it. But as for our damage, what 
 does that matter to you? What do you care whether 
 others sufiPer injury ? Eather be glad, and draw as much 
 gain from it as possible. Nay, it_would seeni as if it must, 
 be jt,pQsiJave advantage to you, if all remain in this error ; 
 and if you were logical you would do all in your power to 
 keep up and extend this error. Por it affords you a means 
 to gain us over to your secret projects, under the pretext 
 of virtue and unselfishness ; which it will not be so easy 
 for you to do if you boldly announce your private advan- 
 tage as your ultimate end. In short, since you can gain 
 nothing by communic ating your discovery, your as sertion 
 contradicts itself. JSlay, what is more, you not only 
 communicate it to us, indifferent as to whether we 
 accept it or not, but you make it your special business to 
 convince us of it, and defend your proposition with all 
 possible zeal. Whence may this interest arise which you 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 335 
 
 manifest ? If that belief is really so contemptible as 
 you assert it to be, why do you oppose it with so much 
 warmth and energy ? Why not let it fall to pieces of 
 itself? Your conduct is, therefore, absolutely incompre- 
 ■ hensible^if ynn ars nnly ap.t.imt.P.fi hv seitisfa motives. 
 What, then, may be your motive ? It will not be ditticult 
 to show it to you. You are so. verv concerned to convinc e 
 us of your opinion, not that we may govern ourselves 
 according to it in our actions — for such would be very 
 inopportune for you — but that our conviction may assist 
 in suiDportinpj your conviction. You are not yourself very 
 sure of your assertions , and desire to complete, through 
 our agreement, the conviction which you lack yourself. 
 And now I ask you further : Why do you desire to be so 
 very certain of your matter ? If mere selfishness is the 
 motive of your acts, of what profit can this complete 
 ^ certainty be to you ? You are again illogical. You wan t 
 to be certain of it, because otherwise you must despise 
 yourself; must look upon yourself as worse than otter 
 men, as more wicked and infamous than you are naturally. 
 Hence you wish to esteem yourself, and have a higher 
 principle upon which to act than mere selfishness; and 
 you are better than you yourself think. 
 
 Or you others', who are not in this case, who do not 
 openly confess your heart's opinion, but carefully lock it 
 up in your soul, pleading esteemable intentions, which 
 you do not possess, for your acts, why do you do this ? 
 If you merely intend to deceive your fellow-men by it, in 
 order to be able all the more to use them for the promo- 
 tion of your ends, you certainly recognize, through your 
 acting, that there is a higher and nobler motive than 
 selfishness, since you make use of it, calculate on it, and 
 take your measures according to it. Here, again, your 
 opinion that there is nothing higher in human nature 
 than selfishness, contradicts your acting, which pre- 
 supposes something higher, and fares well in such pre- 
 supposition. Hence, in your acting at least — and the 
 
336 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 inner heart of man discovers itself most surely in his 
 actions — you cannot refrain from recognizing a higher 
 principle in man, and this you certainly could only have 
 discovered in yourself, and in your own sentiments, there- 
 from transferring it to others. Hence you also are not so 
 empty of goodness as you have believed. 
 
 In one word : there is no man of even the least culture 
 — I do not speak here of the original natural man, whom 
 we have dwelt upon elsewhere already — who does not 
 at times commit actions, which cannot be explained from 
 the mere principle of self-love, or, from the presupposition 
 of mere selfishness in others. Hence the necessity to call 
 attention to such actions, and to the principle which lies 
 at their basis. 
 
 In order that this proposition may not meet the 
 objection which we have ourselves proved above, to wit : 
 "that theoretical convictions cannot be compelled; and 
 that hence it is impossible to convince the other that 
 there is still some goodness left in him"; I add the 
 following: In the present case we can be sure of it, 
 because the heart of the man to be convinced is inclined 
 in favour of us from the very beginning. Each one 
 would like to esteem himself, if it were but possible; 
 this may be taken for certain. Hence we may be certain 
 of his assent if we show him that at least his dispositions 
 are worthy of esteem. Upon such a basis a moral 
 character can be built up gradually. 
 
 5. We return to the point which we touched above, when 
 we said that in order to develop the sentiment of esteem 
 in man, we must show him something esteemab le ; an^ 
 there being no better occasion for this than our own 
 example, we have the duty of a pood examvle . 
 
 This duty has often been viewed very incorrectly, as if 
 we could be obliged to do this or that, which otherwise 
 we would not have needed to do for the mere sake of a 
 good example (as, for instance, going to church, taking 
 the Lord's Supper, &c.). For it has been already shown, 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 337 
 
 that within the sphere of morality there are no in- 
 _ different ac^t ipps; the moral law embraces and deter- 
 mines absolutely all possible acts of freedom. That 
 which I am commanded to do I must do absolutely for 
 its own sake, without any regard to the example it may 
 set ; and that which I am prohibited from doing I must 
 absolutely leave undone, likewise, without any regard to 
 the example. Something which is not duty necessarily 
 sets a bad example; no good can ever result from the 
 immoral. But to do more than I am commanded to do 
 is impossible, since duty disposes of all my strength and 
 all my time. Hence there can be no actions, the ultimate 
 end whereof might be to establish a good example, and 
 which ought to be done mptrfily feua-a np l i i»ii a .n* p]g'fi fjfjj^P 
 The duty of setting a good example has no reference to 
 the substance o f our acts, but only to th e A rm thereof. 
 
 Namely : the moral law merely makes it my duty to 
 do what is to be done, regardless whether publicly or 
 privately, and whether with a statement of the principles 
 upon which it is done or not. But if we look to the fact 
 that we owe a good example — which truly neither can, 
 nor is intended, to do any other good than to spread 
 esteem for virtue — this is no longer a matter of in- 
 difference to us. On the contrary, the highest publicity 
 of our acts and principles is commanded of us. 
 
 Firstly, as regards the internal character of this 
 publicity. Its intention is to excite esteem for what is 
 esteemable; but esteem can be neither compelled nor 
 artistically produced, but manifests itself voluntarily and 
 unobserved. Hence the virtuous must not suffer such an 
 intention to be remarked in his acts ; and since he is to 
 give frank expression to whatever is in his heart, and 
 since others are moreover likely to remark such intention 
 if it exists, he must not cherish this intention at all in 
 reference to particulars. He allows the inmost depth of 
 his heart to reveal itself externally, without doing any- 
 thing else to attract attention to it. 
 Z 
 
338 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Such is the external character of the frank man. He 
 pursues his path straightforward, talks and acts as his 
 heart prompts him, and as he considers it to be his duty, 
 without looking to the right or left to see whether he 
 is observed or not, and without listening and inquiring 
 what people may say to his actions ; for he has no time 
 to do this; his time is fully occupied by fulfilling his 
 duty. But, for the very same reason, he does not conceal 
 himself, for he has also no .time to ponder over secrecy 
 and concealment. So, likewise, if his conduct is sub- 
 jected to criticism, does he reply to criticism — does he 
 defend himself if he holds himself wronged. He does 
 not try to smooth over his actions, if he has been con- 
 victed of wrong. Perhaps there is no more beautif ul 
 trait in human character than frankness, and none m^re 
 dangerous than secretiyeness. Frankness and openness 
 at least lead to uprightness, if they are it not; but he 
 who is secretive has a secret fear of truth, has some deep 
 fault, which he would not like to have discovered, and he 
 is not willing to be reformed before he does not cast off 
 that fear of truth. 
 
 A pretentious^ man intends to be observed. This 
 character can easily be distinguished in others, or — which 
 ought to be the most important to us — in ourselves, from 
 frankness, by the following marks. The pretentious 
 man usually indulges in preparations, which are not at 
 all necessary for his purpose, and which hence can only 
 be intended to call attention to his acts; whereas the 
 frank man does no more than is needed for the attain- 
 ment of his object. 
 
 This publicity the frank man maintains both in his 
 acts and principles. His ruling principle is, to do his 
 
 duty merely for duty's sake ; and he makes no secretof 
 this motive. To be ashamecl Of this subiection to some- 
 thing higher and greater, as of a superstition, and to 
 make oneself the God of the universe, is very con- 
 temptible. It is just as contemptible to give another 
 
 I ami 
 I dut 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 339 
 
 name to that which we have done merely for duty's 
 sake, and thus to claim for it, for instance, motives of 
 particular affection and friendship, of generosity, &c. 
 The same publicity the frank man, of course, asserts in 
 his acts ; for principles are nothing unless realized in acts, 
 and since we can convince no one that such principles 
 are really ours except by realizing them in actions. 
 Mere virtuous talking amounts to nothing ; and furnishes 
 no good, but rather a bad example, since it confirms 
 unbelief in virtue. In this respect the frank man shows 
 himself particularly logical. His acts are like his words. 
 
CHAPTEK V. 
 
 concerning, the particula r duties. 
 
 Preliminary. 
 
 Concerning the relation of the particular to the general 
 duties, the following is still to be said. 
 
 To promote the end of reason is the only duty of all, 
 and this duty emhraces all other duties ; particular duties 
 are duties only in so far as they relate to the attainment 
 of that chief purpose. I am commanded to exercise the 
 particular duties of my vocation and condition in life, 
 not absolutely because I ought to do so, but for the reason 
 that I thus best promote in my place the ultimate end of 
 reason. I must regard the particular duty as a means to 
 carry out the general duty of all men, b ut absolutely not 
 as end m itself; and i do my duty in the fulfilment of 
 my particular obligations, only in so far as I fulfil them 
 for the sake of duiy in general. The proposition that 
 each one shall fulfil his duty through honestly fulfilling 
 the obligations of his particular condition in life, is there- 
 fore to be understood with this restriction : that he must 
 carry out those obligations solely from dut y, and for the 
 sake of duty. P or there might be' other motives inducing 
 man diligently to practise these duties, as, for instance, a 
 natural predilection for his vocation, fear of blame or 
 punishment, ambition, &c. Whosoever is impelled by 
 such motives, does certainl y what he ought to do, but 
 does it now how he ought to- do it ; he acts correctly, 
 but not morally. Hence everyone ce^n only decide before 
 his own conscience whether he truly fulfils his duty in 
 
CONCERNING THE PARTICULAR DUTIES. 341 
 
 his vocation. Tiiis remark relates to the necessary form 
 of the will in the particular duties. 
 
 We have to add another remark concerning the sub- 
 stance thereof, which will, at the same time, furnish us 
 with a criterion whereby each may recognize whether he 
 ^fulfils TBe'cl'u ties ot his condition in life ^jf om love of duty 
 ^or not. For, if such condition or vocation is not absolutery 
 end ifi itself, but merely means for the attainment of an 
 end, then — it being cgntradictory to place the means 
 higher than the end— it is not allowable, but rather 
 positively immoral, to sacrifice virtue to one's condition 
 and vocation. Namely, the duties prescribed by such 
 vocation, and the rights which may condition their possi- 
 bility, can frequently be in opposition to the ultimate end 
 of reason. Now the man to whom his vocation is his 
 ultimate end, and who therefore fulfils its obligations 
 from another motive than love of duty, will carry out 
 those obligations, even if they are opposed to the ultimate 
 end of reason, because he knows no higher standpoint 
 than the obligations of his vocation. But the man who 
 regards his vocation merely as a means, will, in such case, 
 most assuredly not carry them out, because they no 
 longer promote, but rather oppose, the ultimate end of 
 reason. In the course of our present investigation, I 
 shall apply this general remark to the duties of the 
 various particular vocations, thereby placing it, at the 
 same time, in a clearer light. 
 
 So far as the division of the particular duties is con- 
 cerned, which must base itself upon a division of the 
 various human relations, which we have called vocations, 
 we can divide these relations into natural relation s, which 
 rest upon our arrangement of Nature, and artificial 
 r elations, which are based upon an accidental and free 
 "tletermination of the will. The former relations we may 
 subsume under the general name of the natural condi- 
 tion _ of man ; and the second under the name of the 
 vocation of man. 
 
342 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 We shall speak here of the duties of man in regard 
 to his particulai i natura l condition. 
 
 There are onlytwo natural conditions amongst those 
 rational, sensuous beings whom we call men, which are 
 based upon the arrangement made by Nature for the 
 propagation of the race: 
 
 1st. The relation of husband and wife. 
 2nd. The relation of parents and children. 
 
 We have treated both relations extensively in' our 
 Science of Bights. At present we condense w hat we have 
 there said, and refer the reader to that work for further 
 detail. 
 
 I. The relation of husband and wife. 
 
 This relation is based, as we have said, on an arrange- 
 ment of Nature to propagate the race in two different 
 sexes. The means made use of by Nature here, as every- 
 where, to attain its object in free beings, is a natural 
 impulse ; and the relation of this impulse to freedom is 
 that of all other natural impulses, sufficiently described 
 above. The impulse itself can neither be generated no r 
 annihilated through freedom ; it is f^ivep. Only — and 
 tnis rule iias stricter application to the natural impulse 
 for the union of the sexes than to any other natural 
 impulse — only in so far as the act of the free being is 
 immediately produced by the impulse, is the object of 
 Nature attained. The conception can only prevent or 
 permit the impulse to become an act; but to eradicate 
 or put itself in its place— as if the act were immediately 
 grounded in the conception of the end, and not simply 
 
CONCERNING THE PARTICULAR DUTIES. 343 
 
 through its mediation in .the impulse — this the conception 
 can not do. The human race is not propagated according 
 to conceptions and free resolves of the -will. 
 
 Hence it would seem, at the first glance, as if we could 
 say of the satisfying of the impulse nothing more than 
 we have said concerning the satisfying of natural impulses 
 in general. The impulse mu st really exist, and must not 
 be artificially produced "^ the T.magina^iTr~"TVe" must 
 permit ourselves its satisfactSn solely as" a means for the 
 ^end, which end is here the propagati on of our race. This 
 end, again, we should relate to our highest ultima'te end, 
 namely, the supremacy of reason. But we shall touch 
 upon quite another much less physical aspect of this 
 impulse: and hence the command to per mit o urselves 
 Its satis ffiftinn^ anlply f),pj m eans to propagate the race^ia 
 even at this point to be j Sstrictedbv the consideration 
 that it must at least not be our fault if that end is not 
 attained thereby. 
 
 Our investigation would be at an end, and there would 
 be no marriage relation and no duties of such relation, 
 if the end of Nature in the sexual union required merely 
 activity of two persons. It is well known, and haTs just 
 now been restated, under what conditions it is permitted 
 to act upon an impulse of Nature; and there is just as 
 little difficulty in thinking a free, reciprocal action of two 
 persons permissible, provided both have consented to it. 
 
 This, however, is not the case here. The peculiar 
 arrangement of Nature is this, that in the union of the 
 sexes for the propagation of the race , only the one sex 
 should be active and the other altogether passive. (See 
 my Science of I^igliisJ^^TLis simple ground gives rise to 
 the most delicate relations amongst men. 
 
 It is impossible that in a rational being there should^ 
 be"an impu lse to keep purely passive, t o merely surrender 
 lEseii to an external influence as the mere object of its 
 use. Mere passivity utterly contradict s reason , and 
 annuls it. As sure, therefore, as reason rules in woman. 
 
344 THE SCIENCE OE ETHICS. 
 
 and has had influence in the development of her character, 
 the sexual impulse cannot appear as an impulse to be 
 
 'purely passive, but must change itself into an impulse 
 to be likewise active. If the above arrangement of Nature 
 is to co-exist with such an impulse, the latter can be only 
 aajmpulse in woman to satisfy a man, and not herself ; 
 to surrender herself, not for her own sake, but for _th e 
 
 .sa ke of t ne other! Such an impulse is called lofoe,. Love 
 is Nature and Reason in their most original union. 
 
 It is not proper to say that it is woman's duty to love , 
 for love is mixed with a natural impulse which does 
 not depend upon freedom; but it is proper to say that, 
 wherever there is but the least inclination for morality, 
 the natural impulse can appear only under the form of 
 hv& . The sexual impulse of woman in its mere prutisn- 
 ness is the most repulsive and repugnant of everything 
 m Nature ; and, at the same time, indicates the absolute 
 absence of all morality. The unchastity of the heart in 
 a woman — which shows itself in this, that the sexual 
 impulse manifests itself in her in an immediate manner 
 — is the basis of all vices (even though from other reasons 
 she may never allow that impulse to break out in acts) ; 
 whereas, on the other hand, womanly purity and chastity 
 — which consists in this, that the sexual impulse shows 
 itself never as such impulse, but always in the form of 
 love^is the source of all that is noble and great in 
 woman. For woman, chastity is the principle of all 
 morality. 
 
 When a woman surrenders herself to a man from love, 
 the morally necessary result is a marriage. 
 
 Firstly, on the part of the woman. By giving herself, 
 she gives herself wholly, with all that is hers, with her 
 strength, her will, and, in short, with her whole empirical 
 Ego; moreover, she gives herself for ever. She gives 
 herself wholly : fo r she gives her personality ; and if she 
 excepted anything from her submission, this excepted 
 something would seem to have more value in her eyes 
 
CONCERNING THE PARTICULAR DUTIES. 34; 
 
 than her own person, which certainly would constitute 
 the utmost derogation and contempt of her person, such 
 as could not co-exist with a moral mode of thinking. 
 She gives herself for ever. For only on the presupposition 
 that she has given herself without any reservation, and 
 that she has lost her life and her will in the beloved, 
 and that she can not be otherwise than his, can her sub- 
 mission arise from love, and co-exist with a moral way 
 of thinking. But if in the hour of submission she could 
 think herself at any future time as not his, she would 
 not feel herself thus impelled to surrender herself, which 
 contradicts the presupposition and annuls morality. 
 
 The mere conception of love involves that of marriage 
 in the explained significance of the word; and to say 
 that a moral woman can give herself up only to love is 
 the same as to say that she can give herself only on the 
 presupposition of a marriage. 
 
 Secondly, on the part of the man. The whole moral 
 character of woman rests upon the above conditions. 
 Now no man has a right to demand the sacrifice of a 
 human 'characte r. The man can therefore accept the 
 submission of the woman only on these conditions, on 
 which alone woman can make the surrender ; for other- 
 wise man would treat woman not as a moral being, but 
 as a mere thing. Even if a woman should voluntarily 
 offer herself on other conditions, man could not accept 
 her submission ; and the rule of law^ volenti non fit 
 injuria has here no application whatever. We cannotr 
 make use of another one's immorality — and in the present 
 case it would be absolute corruption — without making 
 ourselves guilty of it. 
 
 From these premises it appears that the satisfaction 
 of the sexual impulse is permitted only in marriage, in 
 the stated significance of the word; and that outside of 
 marriage it involves in woman utter. - disre gard of her^ 
 mo ral characte r, and in man participation in this crime 
 and the making use of an animal inclination. Between 
 
346 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 persons of different sexes there is no union for the satis- 
 faction of their impulse possible except the union of a 
 perfect and indissoluble marriage. In marriage, more- 
 over, the sexual union, which in itself bears the impress 
 of coarse brutishness, receives quite another character 
 worthy of a rational being. It become s_the utter melting 
 together of two rational individnalR int,o ong : uncon- 
 ditioned surrenderiDg_p n the part of the woman ; pjedges 
 ol intensest tend erness and genero sity on the part of ffi e 
 man. Womanly purity remains inviolate even inmar- 
 riage, and only in marriage. Woman surrenders herself 
 always only to love, and even in man the natural impulse 
 — which vnan, however, may well enough confess to 
 himself — receives quite another form, and becomes Ime 
 
 This relation of husband and wife extends throughout 
 all their mutual affairs, and its intensity grows with the 
 continuation of the marriage. The wife can never cease 
 to utterly cling to her husband, and to be lost in him 
 without resprvation : for, if she did, she would have to 
 give up, in her own eyes, her dignity, and would be force 
 to believe that her own sexual impulse, instead of love, 
 had led her to surrender herself. On the other hand, 
 the husband cannot cease to return to her everything 
 and more than she has given to him, and to be esteemable 
 and noble ; for it is not only the temporal fate of the 
 wife, but the confidence which she has in her own 
 character, which depends upon the husband's behaviour. 
 Moral commandments cannot be specified regarding th^ 
 ."marriage relation, it that relation is as it should be. 
 it is a commandment to itself ; if it is not so, it is one 
 connected crime, utterly incapable of reform through 
 moral rules. There is only one result, which I shall 
 point out. 
 
 It is the absolute destination of each individual of 
 both sexes to marry. Physical man is neither man nor 
 woman, but both ; and it is the same with the moral man. 
 
CONCERNING THE PARTICULAR DUTIES. 347 
 
 There are traits of the human chara cter, and moreover 
 the very noblest, \ yhich can be cultivated only in mar- 
 riage, such as the surrendering love of the wife ; the all- 
 to-hfs-wife sacrificing generosity of the husband ; the 
 necessity to be venerable, if not for his own, at least 
 for the wife's sake; the true friendship between both — 
 friftj^ ^I pihip is nossi ble only i n piarria^e. and there it results 
 necessarily ; th e parental emotionsT& c. &c. The original 
 tendency of mankind is egotistic; in marriage even Nature 
 leads man to forget himself in the other; and the marriage 
 union of both sexes is the only way in which man can 
 be ennobled through Natur e. An unmarried person is 
 only half a man. 
 
 True we cannot say to any woman. You shall love ; nor 
 to any man. You shall be loved, and shall love in return ; 
 for this does not depend altogether upon freedom. But 
 this absolute command can be established: it must not 
 be knowingly our own fault if we remain unmarried. 
 The clearly-resolved intention never tomarry is absolutely 
 immoral. To remain unmarried without one's own fault 
 is a great misfortune; but purposely to remain so is a 
 great guilt. J^t is not allowable to sacrifice this end to 
 other ends : as. for instance, to the service of the Stat e 
 or of th e Church, or to family considerations, or io,.the 
 quiet of aspeculalive life ; for the end, to be a complete 
 ana wnoie man, is iiig!ie^"£han any other end. 
 
348 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 B. 
 
 THE RELATION OF .PARENTS AND CHILDBBTJ TO EACH OTHER, 
 AND THE EDUCATION OF CHILDREN. 
 
 We do n ot speak here of the mutual duties of parents 
 in geiieral towards children, as uneducated and inex- 
 
 jperienced 'rational beings . Much might, it is true, be 
 said on this subject ; but°^hat we have to investigate at 
 present is the relation between parents and their own 
 children in regard to their mutual duties. This relation 
 between them does not result from any freely -created 
 conception, but is based upon an arrangement of J^ature, 
 which it IS necessary to show up, in order thereby to 
 develop this moral relation. 
 
 Between father and child there is absolutely no con- 
 scious and freely- directed natural connection. The act 
 of generation, from which some philosophers attempt to 
 deduce rights and duties, occurs, as such, without freedom 
 and consciousness ; and there does not arise from it any 
 cognition of the generated child. But there does exist 
 such a natural con nection, accompanied "By consciousness, 
 between mother and child. In her womb the fruit 
 
 ' generates itself, and the preservation of her own life is 
 connected with the preservation and health of the child ; 
 and she is conscious of this. She knows upon what 
 object she wastes this continuous, ever returning, care , 
 and thus becomes accustomed to consider its life as part 
 of her own life. The child is borne by the mother at the 
 risk of her life, and under great pain. Its birth is, for 
 
 ^the mother, at the same time, an end to her pain ; neces- 
 sarily a sight to gladden her heart. The animal union of 
 both continues even for some time after the birth ; and in 
 the mother is prepared the food of the child, which the 
 former feels as much need to give as the latter to receive. 
 The mother preserves her child because she needs it ; and 
 it is so even in regard to animals. 
 
 Now, it is absolutely against the dignity of a rational 
 
CONCERNING THE PARTICULAR DUTIES. 349 
 
 being that it should, in any case, be driven by a mere 
 natural instinct . True, this instinct neither can, nor 
 should, be eradicated ; but when united to reason and 
 freedom it will appear, as we saw above in the case of 
 woman's sexual impulse, in -another form. What may 
 this form be ? According to the mere arrangement of 
 Nature, the need of the child was also a physical need 
 of the mother. But if we assume it to be a being with 
 consciousness and freedom, the mere impulse of Nature 
 will change into sentiment and affection ; the physical now 
 will be replaced by a need of the lieart on the part of the 
 mother freely to make the preservation of the child her 
 own. This affection is the sentiment of fiiy and 
 sympathy . It is just as improper to say of a^BSther 's 
 . pity, that it is her duty, as it is to say so ot' a wife's love ; 
 it is rather the ne cessary result of the original union of 
 the natural impulse and reason^ But it is proper to say 
 of both, that they condition the possibility of morality. 
 Of a woman who is not capable of feeling motherly 
 tenderness, it may doubtless be said that she does not 
 rise above brutishness. It is only after the affection has 
 manifested itself that freedom enters, and is accompanied 
 by a command of duty. The mother is in duty bound to 
 give herself up to these sentiments, to nourish them 
 within her, and to suppress whatsoever might tend to 
 deaden them. 
 
 The love of the father fo r his child, on the other hand 
 — deducting everything which is the result of our civil 
 legislation, of public opinion, or of imagination — is only 
 a mediated love.. It arises from the father's love of the 
 mother. His tenderness towards Ins wite makes it a 
 joy and a duty to him to share her feelings, and thus 
 there arise within him love for his child and care for its 
 preservation. 
 
 The first duty of both parents towards their child is 
 care for its preservation. In saying this, I speak as to 
 how matters would be if we were, and could be, truer to 
 
3SO THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Nature — namely, if husband and wife would always live 
 and work together ; and if, therefore, the child would 
 always be under their eyes, and live together with them. 
 In this case the parents — since man is but too much 
 inclined to transfer reason and freedom to everything 
 outside of him* — would transfer their own conceptions 
 to the child, and would treat it accordingly. And hence 
 it could not fail that traces of the reason assumed in the 
 child, and demanded of it by this reciprocal causality, 
 between itself and its parents, would soon exhibit them- 
 
 According to the necessary conceptions of free beings, 
 fyppdnm Viplnngg to onr welfare in the same way tha t 
 .reason is attached to it : and since the parents love their 
 child, and desire its welfare, they cannot wish to deprive 
 it altogether . of freedom. But since, at the same time, 
 they watch over its preservation, as over an end demanded 
 both by Nature and duty, they can favour and admit this 
 freedom only in so far as it is possible to co-exist with 
 the preservation of the child. 
 
 Such is the first conception of education, or, as this 
 first part of it might be named separately, of the training 
 of children. It is the duty of parents to preserve their 
 child ; it is also their duty to spare and favour its freedom; 
 hence, in so far as the latter might hurt the former, it is 
 their duty to subordinate the use of the child's freedom 
 to their highest end in the child, namely to its preser- 
 vation. In other words, it is a duty to train children. 
 
 But soon the duty of a higher education — of an edu - 
 ca,tion for morality — ^is manifested. This for the following 
 reason : The parents have discovered the freedom — for the 
 present only th e formal freedom— of the child ; but every 
 free being is capable of morality, and ought to be educated 
 
 * That is, to consider his own reason, when reflected from some 
 external thing, to be the property of that externality itself— for instance, 
 to assume reason in plants, brutes— nay, the whole world itself.— 
 Translaior. 
 
CONCERNING THE PARTICULAR DUTIES. 351 
 
 to become a moral being ; hence, also, the child. Now, 
 for the sake of the physical preservation of the child, it 
 is necessary that the child should at first live together 
 with the parents ; and hence the parents alone can edu- 
 cate the child into a moral being. This duty of a moral 
 education involves the following: Firstly, the duty to 
 develop properly the faculties of the phild w ith a visw 
 to enable it to become a good tool for the promotion of 
 the ultimate end of reason, and hence the duty to produce 
 ahilitu on the part of the child. This is, indeed — we say 
 this merely in passing, since it cannot be our purpose 
 here to exhaust the theory of education — the true end of 
 education, in so far as it depends upon art and rales — 
 namely, to develop and cultivate the free faculties of the 
 child. Next comes the duty to give to this thus culti- 
 vated freedom of the child a moral direction, which can 
 be done only in the general manner previously indicated 
 — namely, by leading it to work for the promotion of 
 morality outside of itself. 
 
 Now let us ask. What is the relation of parents and 
 children to each other in this education ? 
 
 It is often the duty of parents to restrict the freedom 
 of their children, partly for the sake of their preservation 
 — for they cannot allow a use of freedom which would 
 be injurious to the life and health — and partly for the 
 sake of developing their abilities. In the latter respect 
 they must cause the children to do what will promote 
 this development, and prevent them from doing whatever 
 might retard it, or, at least, whatever does not promote 
 it, since all this would only occasion a loss of time and 
 strength. But they must not restrict their children's 
 freedom for the sake of morality. For actions are moral 
 only in so far as they are done or left undone with 
 freedom. 
 
 It is scarcely possible that a question should arise 
 concerning the right of parents to restrict the freedom 
 of their children. I respect the formal freedom of every 
 
352 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 man, because I must regard him as a morally cultivated 
 being, and must look upon his freedom as a means to 
 promote the end of reason. I cannot be his judge, since 
 he is on , 3,^1 pgnab'tv with me. But my child i do not 
 regard as a morally cultivated being. I rather regard it 
 as a being which still has to be so cultivated; and pre- 
 cisely as such a being it is given to me through the duty 
 to educate it. Hence, to accomplish the same end, for 
 which I must respect the freedom of these who are my 
 equals, must I restrict the freedom of the child. 
 
 It is the du t x_g_f the parents to restrict the freedom of 
 the children, in so far as its u se might be injuno'ui~|o 
 their education ; but no further . Every other restrictim 
 is immoral, for it is opposed to the end of such restriction. 
 It is their freedom which is to be cultivated ; hence they 
 must have freedom to make this culture possible. Parents 
 must not prohibit anything to their children ft;nn^ WT ^f- 
 
 obstinacy, or for tb p. pi-|ypnap--Qf brPftki'ng -tbAJy Tgjjj^ as 
 
 the saying goes. Only that will, which runs in opp osition 
 to th e end of education, should be broKen . Will m 
 general, the children ought to have; for they are to 
 become free beings, and not will-less machines for the 
 use of the first-comer who chooses to take possession of 
 them. Concerning this, however, the parents are the 
 only judges, and have to settle the matter with their 
 own conscience. If no other means can be found to 
 subject children to the end of education than compulsion, 
 the parents have the right of compulsion; and in that 
 case it becomes their duty to force the children, since the 
 moral end of their education can be attained in no other 
 manner. If the child is forced, it is, and remains, a mere 
 object of the action of its parents. It has freedom only 
 within the sphere where the compulsion ceases ; and this 
 freedom is to be considered as the result of the action 
 of the parents. The acts of the children within this 
 sphere have, therefore, no morality, being, as they are, 
 compulsory. 
 
CONCERNING THE PARTICULAR DUTIES. 353 
 
 Nevertheless, morality is to be developed in the child. 
 Hence something must remain in the child as the result 
 of its own freedom ; and this something is voluntary 
 obedience. This voluntary obedience consists in this — 
 that the child does volnntn rilv. without compulsion, or 
 fear of compulsio n, what the p arent s command, and leaves, 
 in the same manner, undone what tbe parents prohibit; 
 and all this merely because its parents have commanded 
 or prohibited it. For if the children themselves are 
 convinced of the goodness and propriety of what has 
 been commanded, and so much convinced that their own 
 inclination prompts them to do it, then it is no longer 
 obedience, but insight, which impels them to do it. 
 Obedience is based, not upon a particular insight into 
 the wisdom of what has been commanded, but upon 
 childish faith in the higher wisdom and goodness generally 
 of the parents. 
 
 It is as improper to say that this childish obedience is, 
 a duty, as to say that the love or svmnathv of the wife^ s 
 a duty. This obedience results from a moral disposition 
 generally, and will manifest itself always under a correct 
 treatment of children ; for it is based only upon respect 
 for, and submission to, the not clearly comprehended, but 
 dimly felt, superiority of reason and of morality, joined 
 to a love for the same, and a desire to participate in it 
 likewise. This is the source of obedience; and if any- 
 thing proves that goodness is inherent in human nature, 
 it is this obedience. 
 
 When the obedience has once taken root, it may be 
 strengthened and increased by freedom ; the child may, 
 with predilection, surrender itself to the considerations 
 and sentiments which heighten it ; and then, and in this 
 respect only, does obedience become a duty which children 
 owe to their parents. It is the only duty of children, 
 and develops itself in advance of all other moral feelings, 
 since it is the root of all morality. Even afterwards, 
 when morality has become possible within the sphere 
 2 A 
 
3S4 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 set apart by the parents for the child's freedom, it still 
 remains the highest duty. Beyond that sphere the child 
 should not insist on being free. 
 
 Obedience on the part of the child gives direction to 
 its whole moral mode of thinking. Hence it is all- 
 important. For as the cultured man is related to the 
 moral law in general, and to its executor— God, so the 
 child is related to the commands of its parents and to 
 those parents themselves. It is an absolute duty to do 
 what the moral law commands, without speculating about 
 the consequences. But in order to be able to do so, we 
 must necessarily assume thafj Ijfag-fSe re^ nlf-, ^ will hp, turned 
 
 ■ to a. p;ood account in t.bp. bands nf ftnrl. I n the^sam e" 
 way the child is related to the commands of its paren ts. 
 In the Christian religion God is represented under "tffi 
 image of the Father. This is excellent. But we should 
 not content ourselves simply with ever and ever talking 
 about this goodness. We should also consider our moral 
 obedience to Him, and the childish resignation to His 
 will, without speculation and doubt, which we owe Him 
 and which we ought to exhibit, not in mere sentimentality 
 and self-comforting, but particularly in courageous execu- 
 tion of our duty, no matter what results our short- 
 sightedness would appear to discover in that duty. The 
 cultivation of this obedience is the only means through 
 which the parents can call forth a moral disposition on 
 the part of their children ; hence it is most emphatically 
 their duty to teach their children obedience. It is a very 
 
 Jalse maxim, which, like various other evils, we owe to a 
 prevailin g eiidaemonism. tha t we should make our ch ildren 
 do our behests through rational argument and according 
 to their own insight. Besides other reasons of its wrong- 
 ness it involves, moreover, the absurdity of assuming 
 that the child has a good deal more reason than we have 
 ourselves; since even grown persons act mostly from 
 inclinations and not from rational grounds. 
 
 The question still remains to be answered : How far 
 
CONCERNING THE PARTICULAR DUTIES. 355 
 
 may the conditioned obedience on the part of the children, 
 and its requirements on the part of the parents, extend ? 
 ^Every nhp.dip.np.e ia unnnnditinnerl. an d also blind; fo r 
 _otherwise it is not obediei^pe. It is blind for the 
 parti cular. A blind obedience in general is not possible ; . 
 " for it IS necessafilynEased upon our convictio n of the 
 higher wisdom and goodness of the person we ob fisJ. 
 
 This question may signify a twofold. We may ask for 
 the extension of obedience so far as relates to the sphere 
 of acts, within which the child owes obedience to its 
 parents ; or, in other words, we may ask, hoiv far does 
 the child owe obedience ? Secondly, we may ask for the 
 protension of this obedience ; or, how long does the child 
 owe obedience to its parents? Is there not a point in 
 time when the child becomes free? And where is this 
 point ? 
 
 So far as the first question is concerned, it may be 
 raised either by the parents or by the children. The 
 chUd must not raise this question — and this is, indeed, 
 the solution of the problem — for the child ought to be 
 obedient, and its very obedience consists in that it should 
 not wish to be free beyond the sphere fixed by the 
 parents. Only the parents can be the judges concerning 
 the necessary limit of this obedience; and the child 
 cannot be the judge, since it obediently submits to them. 
 The phrase, " A child ought to obey in all things that are 
 fair," is a complete self-contradiction, jle who obeys 
 only in " fair " things, does not obey at allj. for it involves 
 ' that he should have a view in the matter as to what is~ 
 " fair. If he cloes only what is fair, as such, he does it 
 "frmr^ hi.'Tnwn in.si.ght. and jibt from obedienc e. Whether 
 it is proper in particular cases to insist upon obedience or 
 not, the parents must settle with their own conscience; but 
 they cannot allow themselves to be placed before the judg- 
 ment-seat of their own children. " But how if the parents 
 should command the child to do an improper action?" 
 I reply: The immorality of the command can only 
 
3S6 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 appear either after a careful investigation, or, immediately 
 at the first glance. The first case cannot occur here, 
 since the obedient child does not presuppose that its 
 parents will enjoin an immoral action. If the second 
 case occurs, the ground of the child's obedience, namely, 
 its faith in the higher morality of the parents, falls away, 
 and further obedience would be immoral. It is the same 
 in regard to cases where the existing immorality and 
 wickedness of behaviour on the part of parents becomes 
 immediately manifest to the children. In such cases, 
 obedience of the children, and education through their 
 parents, are impossible. 
 
 If, as is fairer, the parents raise the above question, 
 then the answer is this : Give no commands whereof you 
 are not convinced before your own conscience, that they 
 will promote, according to your best conviction, the end 
 of education. You have no internal moral right to 
 require further obedience. 
 
 If the second question is asked, namely, How long does 
 the dutv of obedience last ? the answer is as follows : 
 v^Firstly, obedience is required for the sake of education ; 
 but education is means to an end ; and the means cease s 
 when the end is attained. The end of education is: 
 
 "utility of the child's faculties for the promotion of the 
 ultimate end of reason in some specific branch and for 
 some special department. Whether this end has been 
 attained, the child itself cannot decide; for it acknow- 
 ledges better insight on the part of the parents. Either 
 the parents themselves decide, therefore, that the end is 
 attained, and voluntarily allow full freedom to the child ; 
 or the result itself decides, that the end of education — 
 utility — is attained. Externally the State is a competent 
 judge in this inattei i— Hence, if the State confers an 
 office upon a son, &c., it thereby pronounces that son's 
 education completed; and this judgment of the State 
 binds the parents both legally and morally— for the 
 parents must submit themselves to the State for the sake 
 
CONCERNING THE PARTICULAR DUTIES. 357 
 
 of duty. Or, finally, the education of the child is no 
 longer possible ; and this occurs through marriage . The 
 daughter submits herself to her husbani, upon whose 
 wUl she depends, and can, therefore, no longer depend 
 upon the will of the parents. The son undertakes to 
 care for the fate of his wife wholly in accordance with 
 her wishes, and hence he can no longer allow himself to 
 be determined by the wishes of his parents. 
 
 But even after children have been set free, a peculiar 
 moral relation continues between them and their parents. 
 The parents — if, as we have been presupposing, they were 
 also the educators of the children — know their whole 
 character, for they have seen it arise under their very 
 eyes, and have helped to cultivate it. The y know the 
 child's character better than the child itsel f. Hence they 
 remain the child's best advisers ; and for this reason it 
 remains the duty of the parent pre-eminently and before 
 all other men — this is the important point — for otherwise 
 this would be no particular relation, but merely the 
 general relation (which makes it a duty to give good 
 advice to all men) — to give advice to their children ; and 
 it is the duty of the children to listen more attentively 
 to the advice of their parents than to that of other 
 persons, and to consider it more maturely. True, 
 obedience is no longer a duty to them ; they are released 
 from it, and can act now according to their own con- 
 victions ; but it is their duty to attentively consider and 
 weigh such advice. The parents retain the duty to care 
 for their children ; the children the duty to venerate their 
 parents. (Veneration consists precisely in this, that we 
 presuppose higher wisdom in the other, and take pains 
 to find wisdom and goodness in all his counsels. Lack 
 of veneration consists in rejecting, without examination, 
 what the other says.) 
 
 Finally, there remains j^ip.f-.wep.n parents an d children 
 the particular _£[uty to assist "and support each other. 
 The children thus preserve in their parents ttieir guides* 
 
358 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 and advisers ; and the parents preserve in their children 
 their own work, which they have cultivated for the world 
 in order to fulfil their duties to the world, even after their 
 death. 
 
 We shall now speak, in conclusion, of the duties of man 
 in his particular vocation. 
 
 It has already been explained what vocation generally 
 means. The promotion of the ultimate end of reason 
 involves many things; and that part of this end, the 
 promotion whereof a stagle individual assumes in par- 
 ticular, is his vocation. It has also been stated what 
 maxim should govern us in selecting our vocation; not 
 inclination, but duty. 
 
 The true object of reason is always the community of 
 rational bein gs. Our actions may either be directed 
 upon them immediat ely, or upon Nature for their sake. 
 An acting upon Nature, merely for the sake of Nature, 
 does not exist; the ultimate end of all acting is always 
 mankind. Upon this the chief division of all possible 
 human vocation is based. We might call the former the 
 higher vocation , and the latter the lower ; and we my ht 
 thus divide all mankind into a higheraHTJ lower/class.T 
 
 First of all: In how many ways is it possible to act 
 directly upon man as a rational being ? 
 
 The first and highest, although not the noblest, in man, 
 and the primary substance of his whole spiritual life, is 
 cognition or intellect. Through it are his actions directed; 
 and the best intentions, though they retain their moral 
 value, do not conduce to a realization of the end of reason, 
 unless the cognition is correct. Hence the community of 
 human beings may be acted upon, firstly, for the sake 
 of cultivating their theoretical insight. This is the voca- 
 tion of the scholar ; and we shall therefore have to speak 
 firstly : Concerning the duties of the scholar. 
 
 Nevertheless, insight is, and remefins, only means for an 
 end. Without a good will it has no internal value, and 
 
THE THEORY ^ OF DUTIES. 359 
 
 does little good to the community of rational beings. 
 But itself does not produce necessarily a good will; this 
 most important proposition we have established most 
 clearly above. Thus there remains the particular task 
 of working immediately for the improvement of the will 
 in the community of men. This task is the problem of 
 the Church, which is itself this very community of 
 rational beings, through its servants, the so-called clergy- 
 men, who should rather be called, and be, the moral 
 instructors of the people. We shall, therefore, have to 
 speak secondly : Concerning the duties of the instructors of 
 the people. ' 
 
 Between both the scholar, whose duty it is to cultivate 
 the intellect, and the popular instructor, whose duty it is 
 to cultivate the will, there stands the sesthetical artist, 
 whose duty is to cultivate the sesthetical sense, which 
 serves man as a point of union for the intellect and 
 the will. We shall, therefore, add a few words : Con- 
 cerning tlie duties of the cesthetical artist. 
 
 As soon as men come together under a reciprocal 
 influence, their legal relation must, above all, be secured. 
 This is the condition of all society. The institution 
 which achieves this object is called the State. We shall, 
 therefore, have to speak : Concerning the duties of State 
 officials. 
 
 so tar concernin g the higher class_ of mankind. 
 
 The life of man, and his causality in the sensuous 
 world, is conditioned by certain connections of his with 
 coarse matter. If men are to cultivate them&elves into 
 morality, they must live, and the conditions of this life, 
 in material Nature, must be produced, so far as they are 
 under the control of man. In this manner is the most 
 unseeming occupation, usually held to be the very lowest, 
 connected with the promotion of the ultimate end of 
 reason. It relates itself to the preservation and free 
 activity of moral beings, and is thereby sanctified the 
 same as the highest occupation. 
 
36o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 In the production of that which serves to our nourish- 
 ment, covering, and to tools of our activity. Nature either 
 may be directed and assisted, which furnishes the vocation 
 of the agriculturists, who direct organic life, and whose 
 vocation, looked at from this standpoint, is a sublime one; 
 or Nature may be left to herself, teaching men merely to 
 gather and hunt up her self-produced products, which 
 furnishes the vocation of the miner, fisher, hunter, &c. 
 These several classes might be embraced with the agri- 
 culturists under the general name of : The pro ducing class. 
 
 But the raw products of Nature must also, to a cei'tain 
 extent, be remoulded for the purposes of men ; and thus 
 they become products of art. This furnishes the vocation 
 of professional men, manufacturers, artists, &c. ; aU of 
 which, since they all produce works of art, I should like 
 to caU-flaZis^; distinguishing them, however, from the 
 sesthetical artist. 
 
 ■ Moreover, there must be amongst men an exchange of 
 the various things which they need. It will be very 
 expedient to establish a particular vocation of men who 
 exclusively carry on this exchange. This furnishes the 
 vocation of merchants. 
 
 But the duties of these various branches of the lower 
 class are nearly the same, and hence we have to speak, in 
 conclusion, only generally : Concerning the d uties of th e 
 lower class. 
 
 I. Concerning the duties of the Scholar , 
 
 ^ If we regard the human race upon earth, as we are 
 bound to regard them morally, and as what they are 
 gradually to become in actuality, namely, as a single 
 family, it may well be assumed that, for this family, there 
 exists also only one system of cognition, expanding and 
 perfecting itself from age to age. Like the individual, 
 the whole race grows wiser in the course of years, and 
 develops itself through experience. 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 361 
 
 The knowledge of every age is to increase and mount 
 higher ; and to effect this is the duty of the scholars. 
 
 The scholars are, first of all, the depositaries, or, as it 
 were, the archives of the culture of an age; and this 
 they are not like the others, with reference to the mere 
 results, but they are, at the same time, possessed of the 
 principles. They not only know that something is as it 
 is, but, at the same time, how man arrived at this know- 
 ledge, and how it is connected with his other knowledge. 
 This is necessary for them, because they are to develop 
 such cognition to a higher degree, which involves its 
 correction; and this correction is impossible unless the 
 principles are known from which that cognition is 
 derived. From this there results, firstly, that a scholar 
 should know the progress of science to his own day, and 
 should historically know the principles it has made use of. 
 
 Again, the scholar is to further and raise this spirit of 
 his age, either through correcting it, which is also an 
 expansion of knowledge, since he, who has been relieved 
 of an error, has had his knowledge increased ; or through 
 further conclusions from what is already known. 
 
 The scholar investigates, corrects, and invents, not 
 merely for himself, but for the whole community; and 
 it is only thus that his labour becomes a moral labour, 
 and that he fulfils a duty; being the servant of the 
 community in his vocation. His immediate sphere of 
 labour is the republic of scholars ; and from them do the 
 results of his investigation spread over the community in 
 the well-known way. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to add expressly, that his mode 
 of thinking can be called moral in its form only, if he 
 pursues science truly from love of duty, and with the 
 insight that, in doing so, he satisfies a duty to the human 
 race. At present we only ask : What ought he to do ? 
 This is to be answered by what we have already stated. 
 He is partly to know, and partly to further, the object of 
 the culture of his age. He must really try to further it. 
 
362 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 for only thus does he acquire a true value of his own. 
 Should he, however, not be able to do so, the fault must, 
 at least, not be his ; he must have had the fixed will, and 
 the zeal, and energy, to do it. Only thus has his existence 
 not been an idle one — has he, at least, kept alive science 
 in his age, and has been a link in the chain of the transfer 
 of culture. To bring life into the spirit of investigation 
 is also a true and important science. 
 
 Strict love of truth is the real virtue of the scholar. 
 He should actually increase the knowledge of the human 
 race, and not merely play with it. He should, like every 
 virtuous person, forget himself in his object. What 
 service can, indeed, be accomplished by propounding 
 glittering paradoxes, or asserting and defining errors, 
 which have escaped his lips ? To do so would be merely 
 to support his egotism. But this the moral law utterly 
 condemns ; and prudence likewise should condemn it, for 
 only the true and good remains amongst mankind; and 
 the false, however it may glitter at first, perishes. 
 
 2. Concerning the duties of the Moral Instructor 
 of the People. 
 
 All men together constitute a single moral community. 
 It is the moral disposition of each one to diffuse morality 
 outside of himself, as well as he is able, and knows how to 
 do it ; or, in other words, to make all others of the same 
 disposition as himself, since each one necessarily holds 
 his own to be the best ; for otherwise it were immoral to 
 retain it. But each other one also holds his conflicting 
 opinion to be the best, and for the same reason. Thus 
 there results, as the collective object of the whole moral 
 community, to produce harmony respecting moral objects. 
 This is the final end of all reciprocal activity amongst 
 moral beings. In so far as society is regarded from this 
 standpoint, we call it a Church. The Church, therefore, is 
 not a separate society, a^^wten represented, but merely 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 363 
 
 a peculiar view taken of the same one great human 
 society. All belong to the Church, in so far as they have 
 the correct moral disposition, and all ought to belong to it. 
 This general duty of all, to influence each other morally, 
 may be transferred, and is transferred to a particular 
 vocation. Not as if this transfer relieves anyone from 
 the duty to work for the reform of others, if an oppor- 
 tunity offers ; but merely that he no longer needs to make 
 this his particular end in life. Those who assume this 
 vocation are, in so far, oiScials, or servants, of the Church. 
 All are to influence all; and hence those to whom this 
 duty is transferred, educate in the name of all. They 
 must start from what all are agreed upon, namely, the 
 symbol, which we have already discussed when we showed 
 its necessity from another reason. They must proceed in 
 their teaching towards that end, concerning which all 
 shall be agreed. The moral teacher must therefore see 
 further than the others — he must possess the best and 
 surest results of the moral culture of his age, and must 
 lead them to it. He is therefore, and ought to be, a 
 scholar in this particular branch of science. All are 
 to become agreed, but they are also to remain united 
 during their progress ; and hence he must advance so that 
 all can follow him. True, he is to rise higher as soon as 
 possible, but not sooner than it is possible to carry along 
 all with him. Whenever, in his teachings, he advances 
 beyond the culture of all, he no longer addresses them 
 all, and speaks no longer in their name, but rather in his 
 own name. Now, this latter, he is certainly allowed to 
 do as a private person, or as a member of the republic of 
 scholars, wherein he also speaks in his own name, and 
 propounds the results of his own reason ; but where he 
 speaks as a servant of the Church, he represents not his 
 own body, but the community. 
 
 Morality develops itself alone, and of itself, in the heart 
 of man, with freedom, and through the mere rational 
 education of sociable communion. It cannot be produced 
 
364 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 artificially, through theoretical conviction, as we have 
 clearly seen above. Inclination for morality is pre- 
 supposed in those public institutes of moral education ; 
 and the clergyman must necessarily presuppose it, since 
 it alone makes his office possible, and has given rise to it. 
 Immoral men have no Church, and no representative in 
 regard to their duties to 'the Church. It follows from 
 this, that it cannot be at all the intention of those public 
 religious institutions to propound theoretical proofs, and 
 to establish a system of morals ; or, indeed, to speculate 
 about first principles. The Church does not establish 
 these proofs, because it believes them already, as sure as 
 it is a Church. This faith of the Church is a fact ; and 
 it is the business altogether of the scholars (not of the 
 Church) to develop that faith A priori from principles. 
 The object of these public moral teachings can, therefore, 
 be none other than to enliven and strengthen that already 
 existing general inclination for morality; and to remove 
 whatsoever might make it internally wavering, or prevent 
 it externally from manifesting itself in acts. But there 
 is nothing of this kind, except the doubt whether it is 
 really possible to promote the ultimate end of morality, 
 and whether there is really a progress in goodness, or 
 whether this whole sentiment is not rather a phantasm ; 
 nor is there anything which can enliven and strengthen 
 this moral disposition beyond the first faith that the 
 promotion of the end of reason is possible, and that there 
 necessarily results a progress in goodness. This faith, 
 however, when more closely investigated, shows itself to 
 be a faith in God and immortality. The promotion of 
 the good does not progress regularly, unless there is a 
 God; for it is involved neither in the laws of Nature, 
 which has no relation at all to freedom, nor is it within 
 the power of finite beings ; and from the same reason — 
 namely, because finite beings can work only with forces 
 of Nature. To say that progression occurs necessarily, 
 and in regular order, is to say there is a God. Again, to 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 365 
 
 say that we progress in regular order towards our ultimate 
 end, is to say we are immortal ; for our ultimate end can 
 be reached in no time. 
 
 The moral instructor treats, therefore, more particularly 
 of the articles of faith. He does not deduce them d 'priori, 
 for this faith follows immediately from a moral dis- 
 position, and he presupposes the one, as well as the 
 other; but he puts life into them precisely by pre- 
 supposing them as well known, and thus referring men 
 to God and eternity. It is a great advantage of these 
 men, who have an external Church, that they become 
 accustomed to relate their lowest occupations to the most 
 sublime thoughts which man can think — to God and 
 eternity. 
 
 In like manner it is the duty of the moral instructor 
 to give the community instruction concerning the deter- 
 mined application of the conception of duty — the love 
 whereof he very justly presupposes in them. They all 
 would like well enough to lead a rational and moral life ; 
 but they only do not know well how they have to proceed 
 to do it. Such is the presupposition from which the 
 instructor starts ; and he speaks in the name of all of 
 them, as they all would speak if they could be united 
 into one person. How must we proceed to bring our- 
 selves into this or that disposition which duty requires 
 of us? Such and similar questions he ought to answer. 
 His instruction, indeed, is altogether practical, and cal- 
 culated for immediate contemplation. 
 
 In short — and these are his chief rules — he, neither 
 proves nor polemizes; for he presupposes the articles of 
 faith as well known and generally accepted, and a good 
 moral disposition as already existing. To denounce 
 infidels in the meeting of the faithful, to terrify obstinate 
 sinners, or to address the Church as a herd of wicked 
 men — such is utterly opposed to the end he has in view. 
 It ought to be assumed that such people will not come 
 to the meeting, and that everyone who appears in it does 
 
366 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 thereby already make public confession of his faith and 
 good will. Again, since the teacher speaks in the name 
 of the community, and in their name — but by no means 
 in God's name, for he is as much under G-od as they, and 
 is before Him but a miserable sinner like the others — he 
 ought to speak precisely as they speak ; as an adviser, 
 not as a lawgiver; from experience, and not from 
 arguments. 
 
 So far as decided unbelievers are concerned, or men 
 who do not recognize and respect duty, the moral in- 
 structor has nothing to do with them in public meeting, 
 as has already been said. His duty with them is of a 
 pardcular and private nature. The manner how to deal 
 with such characters has been stated above. Let him 
 lead them back into themselves, and teach them to 
 esteem themselves more than they may have done 
 before. There is always a secret self-contempt and 
 despair of oneself at the basis of unbelief. These are 
 to be rooted out, and with them falls what is built upon 
 them. In such a manner should the moral instructor 
 deal with the particular moral requirements of individuals. 
 He should always be ready to give advice on all these 
 matters. He should hunt up even those who do not 
 hunt him up, but — which is the chief point — always 
 with modesty and with respect for the dignity and self- 
 determination of every man. To give advice in particular 
 cases of conscience is only required when he is specially 
 appealed to. He has no right to force himself upon 
 others. 
 
 The essential and characteristic duty of the moral 
 instructor is the duty of a good example. This he sets 
 not only for himself, but for the whole community, whose 
 representative he is. The faith of this community rests 
 to the greatest extent upon his, and it is — when strictly 
 taken — not much more than a faith in his faith. To 
 them he is not this determined individual, but he is to 
 them in truth the representative of the whole community 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 367 
 
 of men, or of the whole Church. That which he pro- 
 pounds he is to propound not as something which he has 
 committed to memory or invented through speculation, 
 but as something discovered in his own internal ex- 
 perience ; and it is precisely in this that they have faith, 
 because everything in this field is only result of ex- 
 perience. Now if his life contradicts his statements, 
 they do not believe in his experience; and as they can 
 only have faith in it, since he neither can, nor ought to, 
 add theoretical reasoning, they do not believe in point of 
 fact anything he may say. 
 
 3. Concerning the duties of the JSsthetical Artist. 
 
 Since I have spoken of the relation of the scholar and 
 of the moral instructor to the culture of mankind, it is 
 partly on my way to speak also of the aesthetical artist, 
 who ha s an influence upon that culture equally greatr 
 though not so immediately perceptible ; and partly it is 
 a need of our age that everyone should do what is in 
 his power to do to effect a thorough discussion of this 
 matter. 
 
 The faie arts do n ot cultivate the head like scholarship, 
 nor the heart like moral instruction ; they cultivate tlTe 
 whole united man. They appeal neither to the unaer-" 
 standing nor to the heart, but to the whole soul of man 
 in the union of all its faculties : to a third, composed both 
 of heart and understandiag. Perhaps the best way to 
 express the manner in which the fine arts operate, is to 
 say: fa^/ make the transcendental yoint of view the commo n 
 point of view. The philosopher elevates himself and 
 others to this standpoint laboriously, and after a fixed 
 rule. But the soul of the artist occixpies that standpoint 
 without determinedly thinking it; it knows no other 
 standpoint, and elevates those who give themselves up 
 to his influence, to it in so imperceptible a manner, 
 that they do not become conscious of the transition. 
 
368 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 I make myself clearer. From the transcendental point 
 of view we make the world ; from the common pomt ot 
 view the world is given to us ; from the aRsthetioal poin t 
 of view the world is also given to us^ but only accordm g 
 to the view in which it is made. The world, the actually 
 given world, iVa<M?'6 in short-^or I only speak of her — 
 has two sides ; she is both product of our limitation , and 
 she is product of our free, of "nmfaa V/^f^fy/ ^f^i-i\f^'f\\j no 
 means of an actual causality). From the first point of 
 view Nature herself is everywhere limited; from the 
 second point of view everywhere free. The first view 
 is common ; the second sesthetical. Every form in space, 
 for instance, can be regarded as a limitation through 
 the adjoining bodies; but it can also be looked upon 
 as manifestation of its own internal fulness of power. 
 Whosoever follows the first view sees only caricatures, 
 oppressed and frightened forms ; whereas he, who follows 
 the second view, sees everywhere energetic fulness of 
 Nature, life and growth ; in short, beauty . It is the 
 same with the highest. The moral law commands abso- 
 lutely, and suppresses all inclinations of Nature. He 
 who holds this view is related to the moral law as its 
 slave. But the moral law is, at the same time, the Ego 
 itself ; it comes from out of the inmost depth of our own 
 being, and when we obey it we, after all, only obey our- 
 selves. He who looks at it thus, looks at it £Esthetically. 
 The artist regard s ever ything from its beautiful side j he. 
 sees everything free and full of life . I do not speaknCTe 
 of the grace and cheerfulness whicHTthis view gives to our 
 whole life. I here call attention only to the cultivating 
 and ennobling effect which it has upon our ultimate end. 
 But where is the world of the artist ? It is internally 
 in mankind, and nowhere else. The fine arts, therefore. 
 ' lead man back into himself, and make him at home with 
 hiTnF}p.1f. They tear him loose from given Nature, and 
 place him self-sufficient upon his own feet. And self- 
 sufficiency of reason is our ultimate end. 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 369 
 
 J5sthetical sense is not -virtue, for the moral law 
 requires self-sufficiency obtained through thought, whereas 
 the aesthetical sense comes to us of its own accord; but 
 it is a preparation for virtue, and predisposes the soul 
 for virtue, so that when the morality enters, half of its 
 work, namely, our liberation from sensuousness, is already 
 achieved. 
 
 ^sthetical culture has, therefore, a very efifective 
 relation to the promotion of the end of reason; and in 
 this respect duties may be prescribed to it. We cannot 
 make i t anyone's duty to take care of the aesthetical 
 culture of the human race, for we have seen that the 
 aesthetical sense does not depend upon freedom, and 
 cannot be formed through conceptions, but must come 
 altogether of itself. But we can enjoin on everyone, in 
 the name of morality, not to check this culture, and not 
 to help to niake it impossible by spreading a vitiated 
 taste. For everyone can have taste . Taste can be 
 cultivated through freedom, and hence everyone can 
 know what is a violation of taste. By spreading a 
 vitiated taste for aesthetic beauty, we do not leave men 
 in that indilference wherein they await their future 
 culture, but we misdirect their culture. Two rules can 
 be established in reference to this subject. 
 
 Firstly, for all men : Do not make yourself an artist 
 against the will of Nature ; and you always do so against 
 Nature if you do it without a special natural impulse, 
 and do it simply by the compulsion of some arbitrarily- 
 conceived notion. It is absolutely true that the artis t 
 is bor n. Eules keep genius in bounds, but do not them- 
 selves^ produce genius, precisely because they are rules, 
 and, therefore, have limitation, and not freedom in view. 
 
 Secondly, for the true artist: Take care not to fawn 
 upon the ■■ '-.""•ppt-.p.d t,a.s te of vour age from selfish 
 motives, or desire for present glory. Eather strive to 
 repres ent the ideal w hich floats before your mind, and 
 forget everything else. The artist should inspire himself 
 
 ° 3 B 
 
37° THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 by the sanctity of his vocation, and should learn that by 
 applying his talents, he does not serve man, but duty. If 
 he does so, he will soon look upon his art with quite 
 other eyes; he will become a better man, and at the 
 same time a better artist. There is a phrase injurious 
 both to art and morality : Tliat whic hvleas^ us is ^^ffl^^ - 
 It IS very true that that which pleases the completely- 
 cultivated mankind is beautiful, and alone is beautiful; 
 but until mankind is so cultivated^ and when will it 
 ever be ? — the most tasteless works mav p j g p fif , b^p^nsp 
 they are in fashion , and the greatest work of art may not 
 find favour, because the age wherein it was made has not 
 yet developed the sense wherewith to seize it. 
 
 4. Concerning the duties of State Offidcds. 
 
 Cccording to the above, a State constitution is to be 
 Regarded as the result of the common will m anifested in 
 ^an expressly created, or in a tacitly-understood, compact. 
 Th e tacit submission to, and acceptation of, established 
 institutio nsn^qiia'l to express consent , as we have shown. 
 WhatsoeverTBeofat^ermits within "the common sphere 
 of the freedom of all citizens, each one may conscientiously 
 I do, since all other citizens have agreed so far to restrict 
 their own freedom. Unless the State had given this 
 permission, we should have to fear, at every free act within 
 that common sphere, that it would interfere with the 
 freedom x^ f Jihe others. 
 
 The State officials — I speak here chiefly of the higher 
 order, who participate in the legislative department, and 
 from whom there is no appeal — are nothing but the 
 administrators of this common will^ They are elected by 
 all citizens, and have not the right to alter the constitu- 
 tion one-sidedly. It is their duty to consider themselves 
 as thus the representatives of all, for it is only within 
 the sphere of this form that they can act with a good 
 conscience. If they arbitrarily alter the constitution in 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 371 
 
 such a manner as to induce opposition to this alteration, 
 they oppress the consciences of all citizens, and cause 
 them to doubt whether they ought to obey the State, or 
 obey the duty which they owe to the freedom of all 
 others. 
 
 Ifow there exists an a priori rule of law. The positive 
 law of the State, which officials may be appointed to 
 administer, may be opposed to this d priori law, may be 
 harsh or unfair. How has the State official to conduct 
 himself under such a case? For the greatest part we 
 have already answered this question. 
 
 Firstly, the official may very well undertake the 
 administration of this positive law and constitution, 
 although, in his conviction, it is not perfectly conform- 
 able to reason; nay, if it is his vocation, it is duty to 
 administer it. For there must be some sort of law and 
 constitution, since otherwise there would be no State,^ 
 and no progress ; for sake whereof the State exists. 
 !N"ow, the present existing constitution is presumptively 
 conformable to the will of all ; and each one has, more- 
 over, the privilege to desist from the rights conferred 
 upon him by law, if he so chooses. 
 
 Second ly, reason demands, and M ature, at the same 
 t ime, taaa~madp. provision, \^?^ tiiogQ^ejtg^.gnvftrMyffiT^l^ 
 shall, in course of *^'''^°i "pp^^nr^ rnn r p anrl more to 
 the only form ot government, p.n nfnrma.b le to reason. 
 Mence tfite state officials, who govern a State, must know 
 this latter form. Those who rise from common ex- 
 periences to conceptions, are called scholars, according 
 to the above; and hence the State official must be i 
 scholar in his profession. Plato says: No prince Qsm 
 govern who is not possessed of the ideas; and this is 
 precisely what we say. He must, therefore, necessarily 
 know, firstly, the constitution which he is chosen to 
 administer, and the express, or tacit, compacts whereupon 
 it rests; secondly, the State constitution, as it ought to 
 be, or the ideal; and, thirdly, the way which mankind 
 
372 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 in general, and particularly his people, must proceed to 
 attain the latter. 
 
 Thirdly, the manner of administering government may 
 be concisely stated as follows : Let the officials carry out 
 absolutely, and without mildness or tenderness, that 
 which absolute right, or natural law, demands ; but that 
 which only the written positive law requires, let them 
 carry out only in so far as it may be considered the 
 continuing result of the will on the part of the interested 
 parties. 
 
 I shall endeavour to make this clearer. It is a very 
 false proposition that government is instituted for the 
 benefit of the {yoverned : oy . in other wnrds. that, mltiS 
 populi suprema lex est. Law is, because it is: i t is 
 
 I absolute ; it must be carried out, and if no one were 
 benefited by it. (Fiat mstitia et mreat muTidus.) Agam, 
 it is not unlawful for anyone to desist from -Iiis rights 
 for the benefit of another one. {Volenti non fit injuria.) 
 But it is absolutely illegal to compel him thus to desist. 
 Hence, if an unjust law exists , which could only be 
 just if approved unanimously ; 'and if against this law 
 opposition manifests itself, then it is the absolute duty 
 of the lawgivers to repeal such law, no matter how 
 much those who derive advantage from injustice may 
 cry about violation of contract. If no objection is raised, 
 the officials can carry it out conscientiously. 
 
 (Since these principles are liable to misinterpretation, 
 I propose to determine them more specifically. _In a 
 
 (State, for instan ce, where the nobility is in the exclusive 
 "possession oi the highest State offices, a nd of all landed 
 property, the nobility hold such title almost altogether 
 by virtue of a tacit understanding w ith the other citizens; 
 for those other citizens agree to leave those offices and 
 lands to the nobility, and to select for themselves other 
 vocations. In this manner things remain in order; and 
 a regent who should one-sidedly, and without request, 
 abrogate such an arrangement, would ^act utterly illegally 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 373 
 
 and despotically. He is sworn to carry it out, and the 
 nobility has submitted to him only on condition of such 
 promise on his part. If a single citizen, having 
 previously, through his conduct, approved of such a 
 State government, makes an attack upon these pre- 
 sumptive rights of nobility, he becomes liable to punish- 
 ment, and is justly punished according to the positive 
 law, which he has hitherto tacitly recognized; and by 
 no means according to the natural law, since he ought 
 to have appealed to this law ia advance of his act, and 
 not afterwards. Previously he took advantage of the 
 positive laws; how can he now appeal to a law opposed 
 to them ? But if a single citizen applies to the Grovern::_ 
 ment for his natural rights, he, by this very application . 
 _abrogates his compact with the nobihtv : nay, even with 
 his own class of citizens, since they have entered into 
 that compact with the nobility. He thus withdraws 
 altog ether from the State compact, and must be satisfied 
 to lose ail tlie advantages which previously it conferred 
 upon him; as, for instance, the right to carry on trade, 
 &c. At the same time, that which he, in point of fact, 
 demands by making his application, namely, to be 
 admitted into the class of the nobility, mufet not be 
 denied to him. It must be permitted to the singl e 
 individuals, who prefer complaint about the injustic e 
 of such an arra ngement, to change their class, for^t his 
 . is'^e only means to make good to them the injusti ce 
 [about which they comp lain '"'and ievery State which does 
 not grant this permission to change class, is absolutel y 
 illegal. iSertdom [glebce adscriptio), and the prohibiting 
 
 certain classes of people from attending school, are 
 absolutely illegal. But when the whole class of citizens 
 arises, or, at least, a decided majority thereof, and re- 
 claims its natural rights, then it becomes the absolute 
 duty of the Government to alter the constitution upon 
 this point, whether the nobility would be willing to 
 consent or not. If the favoured class of nobles were 
 
374 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 wise they would not await this general reclamation, but 
 would, of their own accord, gradually give up their 
 privileges.) 
 
 Fourthly, the continuation of such compacts has its 
 basis in the ignorance and awkwardness of the oppressed 
 classes; their ignorance of their' rights, and their 
 awkwardness how to exercise those rights. As culture 
 incre ases a nd expands, these privileges cekse . Both 
 iNature ana reason demand that, they should cease , and 
 that a complete equality as to lirth — tor only in this 
 respect can equality exist, the vocation chosen in after 
 life establishing a distinction a.g-ain^shmilrl hp pjjta.b- 
 _ lished amongst all men. It is, therefore, duty to promote 
 culture. Culture is the foundation of all reform; an d it is, 
 therefore, absolutely illegal and immoral to place obstacles 
 in its way, or cause it to be checked by the classes who 
 (ieriv e advan tage from the ign orance of the masses. 
 
 Fifthly, one ofthe chief requirements of the rational 
 form of government is that government sh ould be re- 
 sponsible to the people ; and it is precisely in this t hat 
 most of the actual States deviatefrom the ideal ol reason^ 
 lacking, as they do, this responsibility. It is true that 
 the regent of such a State, who governs according to ideas, 
 cannot actually acquit himself of this responsibility, there 
 being no one to whom he can deliver this responsibility; 
 but it is his duty to govern as if he were held responsible, 
 and could always give an account of his acts, whenever 
 required. 
 
 All that we have here said is valid only for the highest 
 power of government, whether it be in the hands of one 
 person, or conferred upon many. The subordinate official 
 is strictly bound to the letter of the law. There is 
 nothing so injurious to a State as when the sub-official 
 assumes to be the interpreter of the law. This always 
 results in injustice, for the losing party is thus con- 
 demned by an ex post facto law — by a law which the 
 judge creates only after the fact, through his interpre- 
 
rH& Theory of Duties. 375 
 
 tation of the law. It is true that laws should not be 
 written so as to be capable of various interpretations; 
 the indefiniteness of laws is, indeed, a great evil for the 
 State. If objections are raised to the positive law from 
 reasons derived from natural law, the sub-official should, 
 it is true, not execute the former ; but neither should he 
 himself do anything at all in such a case. He ought 
 to refer the whole matter to the highest authority, the 
 legislative power. 
 
 In fine , every form of government is legal, and may be 
 administered with good conscience, which doesliot make 
 impossible progress__as well for tne whole as for the 
 individuals . Qnlx that i^orm^_M_g2Sg£Biaga.t'.^i§-t2Mly 
 illegal whicbjpmpflafia- Sq^^iVil^^^ 
 
 is It i_-^^^ 
 
 5. Concerning the duties of the Lower Classes. 
 
 The lower classes have the vocation, as we have already 
 seen, to work directly upon irrational ISTature for the sake 
 of the rational beings, in order to prepare it for the ends 
 of the latter. According to my presupposition, I have 
 not to deal here with those classes immediately, but with 
 those who ha ve to elevate them. Hence, I describe only 
 "the disposition whlcT isloTBeawa kened in the m. 
 
 Tt }eiiigmty _"f °YP^y """^ — KTR^^ap^^^eiBT^ with it 
 his morapy ^aepends m ainly upon whether he relate s 
 hig-'oc cu'lBfLlon to tlie-uISinate end of reas"on, or — which 
 is^TItp. samp. — to the end which Grod has injQfi 
 
 iflan ; and wh ether he is able to say to himself, It is th e 
 Will ot God which I do. This the lower classes oftlie 
 peDplrcan say to themselves with the greatest justice. 
 For if they are not the highest of empirical mankind, 
 they are, at least, its support. How can the scholar 
 investigate, the instructor teach, the State official govern, 
 unless all of them can first of all live ? 
 
 The dignity of these vocations increases when we con- 
 
'376 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 sider that upon them always has depended, and always 
 will depend, the progress and improvement of mankind. 
 For if mankind is to improve considerably, as little time 
 and force must be wasted in mechanical labour as possible. 
 Nature must become mild, matter pliable, and everything 
 so that it needs little exertion for men to obtain what 
 they need, and that it need no longer be the most im- 
 portant business of man to fight Nature. 
 
 For this re ason is it the absolute duty of the lower 
 classes to perfect tneir profession, bmiauijti Lh(j uroaress oi 
 
 t hghUma n rapa 1° nrvTirliMr.i^n<q fKnyp^^y^ Jf; ig tjig duty 
 
 of each individual in these classes, at least, to attempt 
 to satisfy this requirement. Only thus can he pay his 
 position in the ranks of rational beings, whilst otherwise 
 he is merely a link in the chain of the history of his 
 trade. 
 
 (Some authors have asserted that the iuventor of the 
 plough "has much greater merit than, for instance, the 
 inventor of a purely theoretical proposition in geometry. 
 Recently, much opposition has been manifested against 
 this proposition; but unjustly, as appears to me. In 
 doing so, the opponents have shown themselves rather 
 scholars than men. Both parties are equally in the right 
 and in the wrong. Neither of the two invention s, or to 
 what they belong — mechanical labour and science — ha ve 
 abs olute value ;_t heir value is altogethe r relativ e, as related 
 "^ cae Ultimate end of reason. Both inventions are, 
 therefore, of about equal value; and so far as the in- 
 ventors are concerned, their value is determined, not by 
 the success, but by the sentiments, which actuated them.) 
 
 But _^ie lower classes cannot well fulfil their duty — to 
 raise their professions — unless they are directed by the 
 higher classes; and hence it is their duty to respect the 
 memhersylhe higher classes. 
 
 I do not speak here of the submission which they owe 
 to the admiuistrators of the law, nor of the faith and 
 obedience which they owe to their moral instructors as 
 
THE THEORY OF DUTIES. 377 
 
 such — for these are generaL duties ; but of a respect 
 which they ought to cherish for the scholar and artist 
 generally, as men of higher cuL tuxe. and even outside of 
 their offices. This respect consists, not in external shows 
 of honour, nor in a dumb and slavish veneration, but in 
 the presupposition that these men understand more, and 
 see further, than they do; and that the advice and 
 suggestions of these men respecting the improvement of 
 this or that profession, of education, of family hfe, &c., 
 are probably based upon insight. It consists, not in a 
 blind faith or dumb obedience, but in the mere attention 
 to, and preliminary acceptance of, their counsels as 
 probably rational, and at least worthy of further examina- 
 tion. In short, it is the same sentiment, only in a less 
 degree, which we have above described as proper in 
 grown-up children towards their parents. This venera- 
 tion depends upon free conviction and reflection, and can, 
 therefore, not be made a direct duty; although the 
 thinking over it, which prompts this sentiment, is 
 certainly a duty. It is very evident that if the lower 
 classes reject, at the first notice, all propositions for 
 reform which the higher classes suggest, they will never 
 make great adTances. Nevertheless, it is to be well 
 considered that this reverence is denied to the higher 
 classes almost exclusively from their own fault ; and that 
 it depends largely upon the reverence which the higher 
 classes, on their part, evince for the lower. Let the 
 higher classes respect the freedom of the others, since, 
 after all, they cannot command, but only advise them, 
 not being their lawgivers. Let them show respect for 
 their occupation, and not seem unaware of its dignity. 
 To influence them, the higher classes should lower them- 
 selves. There is no vanity so improper for its purpose 
 as the desire to appear learned before the unlearned. 
 They do not know how to value it. The rule of conduct 
 in all conversation with them is the same which is the 
 rule of all popular addresses— not to start from first 
 
378 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 principles, for these they do not understand, and cannot 
 follow ; but to lead back everything to their own ex- 
 perience. 
 
 The true relation between the higher and lower classes 
 is, indeed, the true basis upon which the improvement 
 of the human race rests. The higher classes are the 
 spirit of the one great, whole mankind, the others are 
 its members ; the former are the thinking and projecting, 
 the latter the executing part. 
 
 That body is a healthy body wherein the determination 
 of the will immediately results in its intended movement ; 
 and it remains healthy in so far as the understanding 
 always takes the same care for the preservation of all 
 members. It is the same in the community of men. If 
 that relation between the higher and lower classes is only 
 as it should be, the relation between these various separate 
 classes will soon become correct of itself. If the lower 
 classes make proper progress in their culture, as they 
 must do if they listen to the advice of the higher. classes, 
 then the statesmen will no longer look down upon the 
 scholar as upon an idle dreamer, for he himself will be 
 driven, by the progress of the age, to realize the ideas of 
 the scholar, and to find them confirmed in experience ; 
 nor will the scholar any longer look with contempt upon 
 the statesman, as thoughtlessly empirical. Nor wiU 
 scholars and the so-called clergymen be in conflict; 
 neither in various, nor in one and the same person, for 
 the common man will always become more able to keep 
 pace with the culture of the ages. 
 
 I could not conclude this book weU, with anything 
 more to the purpose than this indication of the chief 
 point upon which the improvement of our race, which is 
 the ultimate end of a Science of Morals, is based. 
 
APPENDIX TO THE SCIENCE OF MOEALS 
 
 ASCETISM, OR PRACTICAL MORAL CULTURE. 
 
 I. PBBLIMINARY CONCEPTION OP ASCETISM. 
 
 EvEEY pure Science considers its object solely in regard 
 to its a priori conception, without giving attention to the 
 accidental distinctions, which are based either upon the 
 original differences of the separate individuals, involved in 
 the conception of the object, or upon the use and abuse of 
 freedom on the part of those individuals, which latter uses 
 and abuses may have been caused by certain inclinations or 
 habits. The Science of Morality must proceed in the same 
 manner, and our science has done so. It posits a man in 
 general ; that i?, a rational being with a natural impulse acting 
 upon it; and to this man it relates the Moral Law without 
 assigning to him any particular disposition towards this morality, 
 whether it be a favourable or averse disposition. Morality in 
 the Science of Morality, posits man as coming purely from 
 the hands of Nature. 
 
 In the same manner — to use an illustration, which is most 
 apt to explain my conception — the Science o f f^ip^s proceeds. 
 That Scienc e assumes men to be generally mere natural beings, 
 and asks how it is possible that they, in their relation tq^eae lf 
 ntihiPTi,! fill"1llfl ]? " ^^^^ t° exercise freedom . In proponndibg 
 this question that Science takes no account of previous 
 agreements, or existing institutions amongst men; and this 
 is the reason why there arises that oft-noticed gap between 
 theory and practice ; or between theory and its immediate 
 application in life. Pure Science — when we try to apply 
 it — does not fit into life ; lif e does not fit into its theoretical 
 propositions ; and thus pure Science appears to be impractical. 
 
 379 
 
38o THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Now this is not iu any manner derogatory to Science; and 
 only pure unreason, which knows not what theory is, and 
 what practice is, and which, indeed, knows nothing at all, 
 can make this a reproach to Science. It is very true that 
 Science does not fit into what Science did not take into 
 calculation, and which it must not take into calculation as 
 sure as it is Science. The theoretical teacher replies very 
 correctly to those who complain that his results do not 
 fit the world: "I never spoke of you and your world; fur 
 you and your world are not worth much any way. You 
 want everything to he as it is, and to go its way as it best 
 may; and if this is what you want, why let things go 
 their way, and -do not bother philosophers with your questions. 
 Keep your science as a means to sharpen your wits. Since 
 in your eyes it cannot after all serve any other use." 
 
 Nevertheles s it is the desire of the t.rnB philnsnp TiPr, that 
 science should be introduced into life, and, moreover, since 
 a pure life of Nature is perhaps nowhere ' to be found now — 
 into some determined empirical condition of life. Hence 
 it becomes a problem for the philosopher to show how 
 the requirements of reason can be realized in a determined 
 empirical given connection of presuppositions ; and the science, 
 which solves this problem, stands midway between pure science 
 and mere experience or history. It is this science which 
 fills the gap between theory and practice, in so far as it can 
 be filled scientifically. I am careful in stipulating this latter 
 condition. For that mediating science — in so far as it must 
 retain the character of a science, and must therefore have a 
 determined object, which its form can exhaust — can pay 
 no attention to the accidental and the undeterminable. There 
 is always a large field remaining open for the judgment of the 
 practical man, whom this mediating science only guides, show- 
 ing him only the bridge which leads from the world of theory 
 to that of practice. But the gap always remaining, the prac- 
 titioner must always rely on his sound judgment after all to 
 promote culture, which artistically is precisely the problem of 
 the theoretical and mediating science. 
 
 The science which mediates between the pure Science of 
 Bights and existing State institutions, is called the Science of 
 
APPENDIX TO THE SCIENCE OF MORALS. 381 
 
 Politics or of Statesmanship ; and the science which mediates 
 between 'the Science of Mor sli'ty gnH tiia oTmpjriVal fliary,j:pr 
 of the indiv idual — in so far as this is possible— is called the 
 Science of Ascetism. I say, in so far as this is possible ; 
 for there is'^T^ST distinction between the problem, which 
 the Science of Politics has to solve, and that which may be 
 attributed to the Science of Ascetism ; and it is by clearly 
 establishing this distinction, that we shall best explaia our 
 conception of the latter science. 
 
 ^.The problem of the Science of Politics is to show how itj^ ^ 
 possible t,n effect I ^b e tra p . ^i|^^^ l [f om a ^iven determined Stat e 
 organization to that form of government which alone is rational 
 _and law ful. In the same way it would seem to be the 
 problem 0^ Ascetism to show how it is possible to lead a 
 given individual character towards a moral disposition. 
 
 But here appears a great diflFerence. For the art of states- 
 manship has to do, not with the really free will of man, but 
 with this will as it may be impelled by natural motives j in 
 other words, in so far as this will \', as it were, a link in the 
 chain of natural mechanism. 
 
 If we presuppose merely that rational self-love, without 
 which man is not capable even of living amongst other.^, and 
 can certainly not be tolerated amongst them — the art of 
 statesmanship has sufficient means in its hands — such as direct 
 compulsion, or providing injurious results for illegal acts, &c., 
 — whereby to control the will of men. For it does not matter 
 at all, from what motive a citizen acts according to law, 
 provided he does act according to it. The art of politics 
 seeks to establish only legality and not at all morality. 
 There being thus possible a legal compulsion, it is also possible 
 to calculate the means to be used in effecting it. 
 
 Quite different is it with the object of the Science of 
 Morality. Morality has freedom as such for its object. The 
 good is to be done absolutely for its own sake, and from no 
 other cause whatever, Now this resolve is something 
 absolutely Primary, and cannot be connected with anything, 
 as an effect is connected with a cause. It must proceed 
 of itself from the soul of man, and cannot be produced 
 in it by external means ; as we certainly can produce through 
 
382 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 threats of punishment the resolve to do what the law requires ; 
 or, not to do what the law forbids. Neither can man himself 
 produce it within himself according to a fixed rale, precisely 
 because it is absolutely primary. Nay, man does not even 
 know this moral resolve until he possesses it, and until then 
 it does not even exist for him. Hence there is no straight 
 line at all proceeding from previous conditions to a moral 
 disposition; that disposition is attained only through a leap 
 into an absolutely other sphere, utterly opposed to our natural 
 disposition. In that sense, therefore, a Science of Ascetism 
 would Eeem to be impossible. 
 
 Moreover, there is between the legally Right and the morally 
 Eight this great difference, that the former is a manifold and a 
 progression from a not quite just, but rather altogether unjust, 
 to a more just form of government, and from the latter to a 
 still more just form; whereas the morally just is absolutely 
 one, within which there is no distinction of a more and less 
 just. The latter assertion needs no proof, after what has been 
 established in our Science of Morality. To make more clear 
 the former, I append the following remark : 
 
 Absolutely unlawful, in the legal sense, we can call only a 
 state of things wherein there is no form of government wha t- 
 soever ; and, 1 will add — in order to be very strict, although it 
 has no connection here — a stale of things wherein men are 
 deprived of all their rights from no fault of their own, i.e., 
 from no commission of crime. Hence the very first require- 
 ment is, that some sort of government must be established. 
 Under such government the law exists at least in form; even 
 though, so far as conscience, such law may be the very reverse 
 of just law. Hence the worst form of government is better than 
 none at all ; and it becomes the duty of men then to approxi- 
 mate it as much as possible to the only rational form of 
 government. Biit this progression towards the better must 
 never be carried on in such a manner, as to risk the overthrow 
 of the existing government. In other words, it is legally just, 
 that the present unjust form of government should remain. 
 
 But it is not thus in the Science of Morality. In that 
 science there is no permission to do the worse where we know 
 the better. Either we must be altogether moral, or we are not 
 
APPENDIX TO THE SCIENCE OF MORALS. 383 
 
 moral at all. There is here no progression from the good to the 
 better : and hence even in this respect a Science of Ascetism 
 would seem to be impossible. 
 
 £ut what then remains for such a science, if we still consider 
 it as related to Morality, simUarly as the Science of Politics is 
 related to the Science of Eights? 
 
 The question : How shall we elevate others to a moral dis- 
 position t has no meaning at all, if that moral disposition is 
 looked upon as a product of our acting. Nevertheless we can 
 give others assistanc e in attaining it; that is, we can inflaence 
 them to determine themselves to rise to that moral standpoint. 
 This we do, for instance, when we cause their feeliug of rever- 
 ence and esteem to turn upon themselves. But all this belongs 
 to a pedagogical science, and not to a Science of Ascetism, and 
 whatsoever is to be said on this point we have already stated at 
 length in our Science of -Morality. 
 
 The other question, which might constitute the problem of 
 Ascetism : How can I elevate myself to a moral disposition ? 
 has also no meaning; and from the very same reason. He 
 who propounds that question to himself, has already raised 
 himself to that disposition. 
 
 But the following consideration remains, and furnishes 
 an important and honourable place leading to the Science of 
 Ascetism. 
 
 Whosoever fulfils his duty in life for the mere sake of duty, 
 were it but once, in that one fulfilment necessarily resolves to 
 remain true to duty for all his future existence. If he resolve 
 never to do his duty only this time, he would not have the 
 resolve this time, nor would he do his duty. His act could 
 not be moral, though it might be legal. 
 
 For this reason : the motive of duty is not an empirical 
 ground, standing under conditions of time like other sensuous 
 motives, but is valid absolutely without relation to time. 
 Whosoever subjects himself to duty, as such, necessarily 
 subjects himself to duty for ever. 
 
 Nevertheless it may happen : not, that in future he should 
 resolve the opposite, namely, to rebel against duty and act 
 against it — this resolve, which characterizes only the ideal of 
 evil, or the devil, is absolutely impossible to reason, as we have 
 
384 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 seen — but, that he may forget this resolve in his future acts to 
 a greater or less degree, and that his old merely empirical 
 character, wbich is impelled only by sensuous motives, may 
 E^ain usurp the place of his moral character. 
 
 Whatsoever man is serious in the resolve to uninterruptedly 
 fulfil his duty, and knows this danger from a knowledge of the 
 empirical human character or from his own previous experience, 
 must necessarily propound to himself the problem to remedy 
 this evil ; and the solution of this problem is the task of the 
 Science of Ascetism, which we have proposed to establish. 
 
 That science will be, therefore : A systematic establishment 
 of the means which may tend tn Ti-AP.p mnalce in us at all tim es 
 the tTw ught of Duty. 
 
 II. MORE DEFINITE DESCRIPTION OP THE CONCEPTION OP 
 ASCETISM. 
 
 There can in reality be only two reasons why with the firm 
 resolve to do our duty we nevertheless may neglect it ; namely, 
 we may either in an immoral act not think of our duty at all, 
 may forget that resolve altogether; or we may have that 
 resolve in mind, but only in such a casual and unenergetic 
 way, that the resolve does not become a deed, or does not 
 prevent the immoral act. 
 
 Concerning the first case, little is to be said. A conception, 
 which does not arise, can also not be eflfective ; it can have no 
 result ; and hence the empirical motive, namely, the natural 
 impulse, becomes the power, which determines the act. 
 
 But the second case must be explained ; and we can 
 definitely reorganize it only by seizing it from the trans- 
 cendental point of view. From that standpoint, it is very 
 true that we do not think of our duty ; we only take hold of 
 our duty with our imagination ; only half-way as in a dream ; 
 for we always float in opposite directions. It is a cold, dead, 
 powerless sentiment. It is an impotent thinking ; but it never 
 turns into willing ; and hence the natural impulse always 
 decides, since it is the only determining impulse. 
 
 Now, how can this state of things be remedied 1 The reply 
 to this question will also solve the question, how the first case 
 is to be remedied. 
 
APPENDIX TO THE SCIENCE OF MORALS. 385 
 
 First of all : every man can know, whether or not, it was 
 his imagination which took hold of the conception of duty. 
 For whenever he decides himself and acts carelessly, without 
 determined and full conviction, and without the previously 
 described feeling of conviction, he may be certain that it was 
 his imagination which took hold of the conception of duty. 
 Moreover, it is altogether a matter of freedom to elevate this 
 conception at all times to full clearness, and to refrain from 
 acting until that conviction has arisen, which manifests itself 
 through the above described feeling. Hence we not only 
 ought to, but can in each particular case, elevate the conception 
 of duty to decided and energetic consciousness ; and it may, 
 therefore, be said, that it is our duty to do it. 
 
 It appears, therefore, that the final ground of such immorality 
 is the same in both cases. In both cases we forget to do our 
 duty; we forget, either the thought of our duty, or to raise 
 the indistinct thought of a determined duty, as it floats in 
 imagination, to full and clear consciousness. 
 
 It would, therefore, be the more determined problem of a 
 Science of Ascetism to find means hy which loe may always 
 remember our duty. 
 
 Now, it is to be remembered, that in either case it is not a 
 matter of natural mechanism, but of freedom, whether we thus 
 definitely remember and cause ourselves to be determined by 
 our conception of duty. If we think the intelligible man 
 under time conditions, as should not be done, but as here 
 we may well do, then each moral resolve must be something 
 altogether new and primary ; not the link of a chain, but the 
 beginning of a new one. Hen(6e no external means will be 
 sufficient to make sure that such a resolve is determined upon ; 
 for this resolve is something absolute, absolutely entering the 
 world of time from the world of reason, as sufficiently explained 
 in the previous section. Hence the Science of Ascetism cannot 
 claim to furnish such a theory, and in so far that science is still 
 unexplained. 
 
 But the good will is always presupposed ; it has arisen once 
 
 forever together with the first moral resolve ; and if it could 
 
 vanish there would be no natural means whereby to restore it. 
 
 All that is requisite is, therefore, that we should be reminded 
 
 2 
 
386 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 of this moral resolve. It is not the resolution to do our duty 
 and to do nothing before we have clearly investigated whether 
 it is our duty or not, which is to be produced by the science 
 we seek, but merely the remembrance of that resolution. 
 When we have been so reminded, it still depends upon our 
 freedom to make use of this remembrance or not. 
 
 Hence the question, whether a Science of Ascetism is 
 possible, stands now thus : Are these means meehanieaUy 
 operative (we speak here of a mechanism of reason, or of 
 compulsory consequence) which can eff&i the return of a 
 determined conception according to an vdermd rule I 
 
 I reply, there is certidnly such a law, equal to that of a 
 mechanism, and this law is the law of the associalion of 
 
 I shall explain myself. There ar e laws of sTnthesis . of the 
 necessary connection of tepiesentations. The laws of the 
 association of ideas are different &om these, and occupy a 
 middle ground between necessiiy and freedom. They belong 
 to the power of memory. "We need not necessarily remember 
 that which we have perceived at the same time, but we may so 
 lemember it, if we choose. Memory depends upon freedom, 
 and hence upon practice. That which makes possible this 
 memory we call the law of the association of ideas. 
 
 Hence the chief principle of a Science of Ascetism would 
 be as foUows : Connect in advance icith your representation of 
 your, future acts the representation of moral acting 
 
 1Bj^ means of this rule there would arise between the 
 conception of an acting and the thought of duty, precisely 
 that connection which consists in the manifold of our 
 representations when we have cultivated our memory. 
 
 But the purpose is not that man should be enabled 
 arbitrarily to remember the conception of duty when reflecting 
 upon some previous action, as suffices in the memory of repre- 
 sentations. On the contrary, if he merely wished to recall 
 that conception to memory, he would already have remembered 
 it, and all means of assistance would be superfluous. The 
 intention is, rather, that together with the conception of the 
 act to be done, there should arise in man the conception of 
 duty in generaJ, and fill him with living power. 
 
APPENDIX TO THE SCIENCE OF MORALS. 387 
 
 In short, the matter is to be thus : the conception : I will 
 act ; and the conception : I will always act morally ; are to be 
 inseparably united, as synthetical conceptions are, indeed, 
 always united. If this is attained in any one person, then 
 that person is governed by the moral law, and he is perfect in 
 virtue. This is the object which the Science of Ascetism 
 proposes to achieve in man. 
 
 But the operation of the association of ideas is not of a 
 mechanical- nature; we may, but we do not necessarily 
 remember at the same time, a certain connection of thoughts. 
 This association depends upon no determined law, but upon 
 freedom and practice, and hence upon something which may 
 exist to a greater or less degree, and which for that very reason 
 can be increased. Hence it is possible only to approximate 
 that described condition, wherein both of the above conceptions 
 are synthetically united. Hence it will remain the duty of 
 man to evermore increase the efficiency of that conception. 
 
 Stated more concisely, the problem of the Science of 
 Ascetism is, therefore, to associate in advance and forever the 
 conception of duty with the conception of our actions. 
 
 But the rule of association is, that one conception can only 
 be connected with another determined one, and not with an 
 undetermined conception. Determinations reproduce themselves 
 only mutually. Hence it would be of no value whatever if 
 a person were to resolve to discover a means whereby to 
 remember the conception of duty in his acting generally and 
 in abstract. This generally we never think, and by this 
 generally we never remember anything ! 
 
 It would, therefore, be necessary to connect the conception 
 of duty with determined acts. Of course, we would connect it 
 with such acts, of which we know that in them we are 
 particularly exposed to forget the conception of duty. On 
 very important occasions we are least liable to fail, since they 
 of themselves call upon us to consider maturely and involve an 
 exercise of power and results, such as are not usual every day. 
 Bat on less important occasions there is this danger. 
 
 Hence, there would seem to be necessary : a general 
 examination of our own character, to discover where we are 
 most exposed to danger; and a firm and strong resolution to 
 
388 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 thiuk of ourselves on precisely such occasions. It will also be 
 well to adopt fixed principles for certain cases, rules of self- 
 examination, &c. &c. A "man of principles" will then be 
 called a man who has developed within himself this judgment 
 and who allows it alone to control the acts of his freedom. 
 
 But the association of ideas does not operate mechanically, 
 and hence it always remains possible that we may forget the 
 very best resolve, when the moment of action approaches. If 
 this state of things continues, the man, who was already good, 
 again becomes wholly corrupt. Hence the necessity arises to 
 examine ourselves repeatedly, and see whether we have 
 conformed to our good resolutions j and if not, what was the 
 reason, and what measures will be best suited to prevent a 
 recurrence of such a danger. 
 
 Such a self-examination is necessary, indeed, at all times, for 
 we always get into new conditions, and, moreover, advance in 
 cognition and in perfection of moral acting, whereby we are 
 compelled to make higher demands upon ourselves. 
 
 The moral man will be much aggrieved to find that he gets 
 no better, in spite of his firm resolutions. Let him surrender 
 himself to such regrets and reproaches, for nothing stirs up 
 memory so well as pain. Such continued self-examinations 
 bring man always nearer to the end assigned to him. He does 
 not become holy, for he is not infinite, and his natural impulse 
 will always continue to move him ; but he will become good. 
 
 But this determination, which provides a very worthy 
 reality for Ascetism, as an art to be practised by every 
 individual, seems again to annul the conception of it as a 
 science. For how can it be a priori ascertained to what extent 
 anyone is in moral danger, and through what means he can 
 protect himself! This each one must decide for himself. 
 Ascetism would, therefore, consist only of those three rules, 
 and it must be left to each individual to apply them to himself 
 through his own morally inspired judgment. 
 
 Nevertheless, there are certain general dangers, which 
 threaten the resolve to do our duty, and certain general 
 reasons why we forget our duty. These we can at least 
 establish, and assign the principle through which we can 
 protect ourselves. 
 
APPENDIX TO THE SCIENCE OF MORALS. 389 
 
 This I propose to do. I shall mention not the ordinary- 
 dangers to moral acting, which may threaten very coarse and 
 uncultured persons, but only those dangers which threaten the 
 more cultured class. Of course, Ascetism thus loses the rank 
 of a systematic Science, siace we cannot start from a common 
 principle, and becomes a mere aggregate of psychological 
 remarks. Otherwise, indeed, it cannot be treated. 
 
 III. SKETCH OP THE ESSENTIAL OP ASCETISM. 
 
 J Above all things, it is our task now to look up more 
 
 I definitely the origin of those rnclinatinTia. ■<k\\\i\ put us ia 
 
 [^danger of forgetting our duty, since we can find out no 
 
 ' remedy loTaneviruntirweTnow its precise origin. I deduce 
 
 inclinations, affections, passions, &c., in the following manner : 
 
 Nature produces in man a determined tendency, such as in 
 
 the plants and in the animals has causality. Bat in man, as 
 
 sure as man is free — i.e., as sure as he has that freedom which 
 
 in our system we have hitherto called formal freedom, and the 
 
 neglect to distinguish which has produced so much evil in 
 
 practical philosophy — it remains only a tendency. Before 
 
 man is man (or free), (for instance, as an unconscious chUd, 
 
 or an idiot, cretin, &c.) this natural tendency has causality, 
 
 precisely as in animals and plants, and it has this causality until 
 
 the _natural impulse has been hrohen through the individnaJJ 
 
 ^or through freedom. But the moment man elevates himself to" 
 
 consciousness, he tears himself loose from the chain of natural 
 
 mechanism and organism : that which he does thereafter he 
 
 must do altogether himself. Man as such, i.e.. as free, as 
 
 consciousness , has no natural incEnations, affections, or passions 
 
 at all. He depends altogether upon his freedom. An important 
 
 proposition ! 
 
 It is known to my readers what a synthetical connection 
 in reason is. That which the synthesis involves, ■ is not in 
 itself developed into consciousness; we can elevate it to 
 clearness only through analysis. Hence it is possible, that 
 man, through the application, or non-application of freedom, 
 may produce a connection amongst the manifold objects of 
 freedom in himself very like that synthetical connection in 
 
390 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 reason ; and this synthesis really does occur : for instance, 
 the representation x involves in man a whole manifold of 
 other representations, a, &, c, as a successive series, each of 
 which is, in this connection, in itself dependent upon freedom, 
 and did actually depend upon freedom in this particular in- 
 dividual at first, hut has now through repeated realization of 
 the same synthesis become connected with a; in a manner equal 
 to the synthetical connection in reason. 
 
 For instance: when yon write, you certainly do not con- 
 sider every stroke of youi pen and eTsiy letter separately and 
 definitely, determining yourself to produce it thus. Ton 
 merely think the word and at the same time you write it. 
 But when you first began to write you had maturely to con- 
 sider every pen-stroke and every letter, and to determine 
 yourself to produce it thus. 
 
 This connection we have called an association of ideas, and 
 shall hereafter so call it Now such a connection is certainly 
 not syniliefiiaJ, for it is arasidental, changeable, and individual ; 
 but neither is it a product of conscious freedom : it is associa- 
 tion. We can iUnstraie it likewise by the theory of dim 
 conceptions. Sucb conceptions are dim, because they are 
 unconsdous premises of our judgments; and they are con- 
 ceptions because they are universal, and can be elevated to 
 eonstdous universality through freedom of thinking. 
 
 Let us take an example from our own Science of Morality. 
 The angry man soon flies int« a passion, and immediately 
 begins to scold, kick, &c. Now this scolding, kicking, &c., 
 certainly depends upon freedom. Of course; for us others, 
 nay even for himself it depends in itself upon his own freedom, 
 or, at l^ist, did at one time so depend; but at present he cannot 
 well act diffiarently. He would, however, be easily able to act 
 difiierentiy, if he could reflect upon himself and his freedom. 
 But this very mediating act of considerateness is what he 
 lacks ; association of ideas deprives him of that freedom. 
 But through however long a series this association may extend, 
 and however deeply-rooted the habit may have become, it never- 
 theless always starts from a first point, which man has under 
 his free control. Hence, even if we admit to the angry man, 
 that now when his anger deprives him of all consideration, he 
 
APPENDIX TO THE SCIENCE OF MORALS. 391 
 
 cannot •well act otherwise than he does, we still should say 
 to him : you ought to have been on your guard against the 
 first outbreak of your anger. 
 
 In short, through the passions, which have arisen in an 
 individual previous to his reform, and rooted themselves 
 according to the law of association, that man utterly loses 
 his frefedom and considerateness whenever at any oecasion 
 they arise in him; and in such a condition the thought of 
 his duty cannot take hold of him. But the very first emotion, 
 which involves irresistibly all these passions, is certainly under 
 the control of his freedom. Hence the thought of duty can 
 take hold of him previous to this emotion. It will, therefore, 
 be the problem of Ascetism, to look up these acts of freedom i n 
 their various possible emotions^ in order to connect with them a 
 balance-weight, a means to stir up the free wiU, and thus to 
 arouse a remembrance of duty. 
 
 I have said, in the various possible emotions generally. 
 But this justifies no ground of division, and no particular 
 and separate rules; and for that very reason only a very 
 slim content remains for Ascetism. Principally in order to 
 show this, and to attach some not uninteresting considerations, 
 I have brought this matter into discussion, and have expressed 
 myself in the way I did. 
 
 Nature produces a tendency in man; was our statement. Now 
 the word Nature has quite another significance when we speak 
 of human -beings, than when wo speak of unconscious products 
 of Nature. The nature of man, i.e., his essence or his positive 
 character (talent, indoles) is twofold, whereas the nature of 
 these unconscious products is only onefold. There is in man 
 one nature, which is Nature as such, and one nature which 
 exists as a tendency of reason (not yet elevated into con- 
 sciousness) ; which latter tendency, in so far as it operates as 
 a mere blind impulse, is of no more value than the first nature, 
 which is merely Nature. 
 
 To speak plainer : Nature, as such, tends in all its products 
 to preserve the individual through sexual propagation; and 
 in the same manner Nature operates in man, and operates thus 
 alone so Jong as man is still in the hands of Nature. But as 
 soon as man's freedom — which here is formal — develops 
 
392 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 itself — which it does (since considerateness and hence natural 
 freedom do not rule here as yet) ; through an impulse or 
 instinct of reason,, the impulse of this formal freedom operates 
 also precisely as an impulse of Nature ; that is to say : law- 
 less and under no rule; and thus it becomes an impulse 
 towards absolute independence, and hence towards supremacy 
 over the whole external world. (A mode of thinking which I 
 have described at length in my Science of Morality .) 
 
 Now if man surrenders himself to these two impulses com- 
 pletely, there arise from them two kinds of passions: (i) Bruta l 
 passions, such as lubricity, gluttony, &c. ; and (2) Unsocial 
 passions, such as injustice, love of oppression, anger, hatred, 
 falseness, &c. Both of these impulses — the natural impulse 
 and the impulse of formal freedom — however unite; and may 
 thus unite in two ways. The natural impulse may unite with 
 habitual love of oppression, and then there arises : (3) Oppres- 
 sion from selfishness. Or the impulse of wild independence 
 may unite with the natural impulse, and then there arise : 
 (4) Voluptuousness and other manifestations of brutiahness ; 
 which here are all the results of pur e vanihj . 
 
 All truly vicious inclinations belong to one of these four 
 classes; with the exception of a certain corruption, which is 
 not so common but all the more dangerous, and which as the 
 fifth one completes the synthetical period. This fifth one I 
 shall treat in a separate section. 
 
 The treatment of these passions in Ascetism is altogether the 
 same. Each is based upon association and habit; each deprives 
 the person given up to it of his freedom and considerateness, 
 in which condition he is incapable of remembering his duty. 
 Each also starts from a first act of freedom, of surrendering 
 to that passion, in which act free considerateness is therefore 
 still possible. Hence in each case it is our problem to connect 
 with this state of considerateness the remembrance of duty- in 
 equally sure association. Hence we only need to answer the 
 question in a general manner. 
 
 It seems easily enough answered. A good will is pre- 
 supposed, for without it we cannot even speak of Ascetism. 
 It is only forgetfulness, or the being dragged into a con- 
 dition where consideratpness is no. longer possible, which is 
 
APPENDIX TO THE SCIENCE OF MORALS. 393 
 
 to be feared. The chief rule would therefore be this : never 
 give yourself up to such a condition ; watch over yourself, and 
 habituate yourself to control all your acts with considerate- 
 ness. 
 
 This uninterrupted attention to ourselves is a self-observation, 
 an act of continuous reflection, undertaken not with a view 
 to learn, but to Tiold ourselves in our own hands. Hence : 
 always observe yourself ! Whatever you do, do resolutely, and 
 only with considerate freedom. Such would be the chief 
 maxim. 
 
 But this rule, if strictly applied, would be both unsafe and 
 very dangerous. Eor an association, as I have shown above, is 
 absolutely necessary in man. It is only the first impulse of 
 this association, which our freedom controls, all the other links 
 follow of themselves. 
 
 Now either this association remains, and then our evil habits 
 continue, and we can never master them ; or that strict con- 
 siderateness enters ; but it paralyzes as it were our whole mind, 
 prevents us from all acting, and makes all our resolves unsteady 
 and wavering. From fear of doing wrong we shall condemn 
 ourselves to lifelessness. This is the dangerous element of pure, 
 abstract considerateness. 
 
 But there is a middle way, very much to be recommended. 
 Each individual in his quiet hours of necessary and continuous 
 self-observation, which must not be neglected, since the neglect 
 thereof will induce a reaction in goodness, will easily find what 
 his most prominent passions are, how they become excited, and 
 where the point lies, which must, therefore, be watched, and 
 where he must remember himself. For instance, the man who 
 is passionately angry, and who thereby shows a disorderly self- 
 love and injustice towards others (empirically ; for he may have 
 the best intention), will know what excites his anger more par- 
 ticularly. His experience, therefore, should grow more special 
 through self-observation, and more fruitful through practice 
 of considerateness. He should never proceed to act, without 
 having first considered what may happen to him, and without 
 having made definite resolutions for such cases. In short, he 
 should have resolved upon a definite plan of acting under all 
 circumstances. He may then be at least sure that he will not 
 
394 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 forget himself, and that he will rememher his good resolutions ; 
 provided, of course, his will is strong and pure enough. He 
 should enter upon no new day of life without having calculated 
 what kinds of husiness he may have to settle on, and what 
 opportunities ifc may hring him forth to relapse into his old 
 faults through . self-forgetfulness ; and he should take pre- 
 cautions against such dangers. Many persons do this for the 
 sake of mere prudence and advantage, and succeed in it : why 
 then should it not he possihle to succeed in it for the sake of 
 dutyl 
 
 The given rule remains in force; but the gr^at question is, 
 how to keep it effective under aU circumstances. For the man, 
 who carries on more solitarily a speculative life, it may he easy 
 enough to adopt rules for his rare practical collisions with the 
 world. But how does the matter stand in regard to him, who 
 is always in reciprocal causality with others, and who has, 
 therefore, little time to reflect upon himself; who precisely on 
 that account is always carried away in his acting, and forgets 
 all the excellent principles which he adopted in his hours of 
 meditation % 
 
 I reply : firstly, everyone ought absolutely to have time 
 enough to consider with himself, to reflect upon his moral 
 condition, and to frame resolutions and work out plans for 
 his reform. No amount of business will excuse a neglect to 
 do so. No one should have so much to do as not to be able to 
 live spiritually; for only thus will ho do correctly and well 
 what he has to do. If this is called prayer, with holy medita- 
 tion, it is a most excellent and holy thought. 
 
 Secondly : let him connect with that impulse of passion an 
 opposite impulse, which will prevent the former from entering 
 his consciousness imless the remembrance of his duty enters 
 at the same time. If this opposite impulse is to be a moral 
 impulse, having its origin in duty, and impelling to duty, it 
 can be none other than one taken from the contemplation of 
 the wickedness of permitting ourselves to be impelled by 
 passion. Every other impulse, an impulse of semuous motives, 
 would not suffice to balance that impulse of passion. For that 
 would be merely expelling one sin through another, and the 
 person would remain as corrupt and wicked as ever. 
 
APPENDIX TO THE SCIENCE OF MORALS. 395 
 
 Every loss of freedom — which passion always produces — 
 and a man who has once elevated himself to morality sins 
 only from passion — is contemptible. Whoever gives himself 
 up to self-reflection and self-punishment will experience this 
 contemptibility strong enough. Hence, a repeated self-exami- 
 nation as to how we have acted up to our resolutions is 
 absolutely necessary. Whoever has felt this contemptibility, 
 and has given himself wholly up to this feeling, will doubtless 
 recall the painfulness of such feeling whenever he may be 
 again tempted to similar f orgetfulness ; and hence is not 
 wholly, not undignified, but absolutely necessary to court the 
 punishment of conscience. 
 
 This then is the only means to effect morality through means 
 of the empirical character; as, indeed, the impulse of self- 
 esteem is most surely, according to Kant's very correct dis- 
 covery, the only one which induces morality from sensuous 
 motives. 
 
 Thus the essence of Ascetism is exhausted. We have only 
 to pay attention now to a particular state of mind, which does 
 not fit under the above established chief rule. 
 
 IV. REMEDY AGAINST TBS COKRDPTION OP A MERELY 
 SPEODLATIVE STATE OF MIND. 
 
 In our previous investigation we have always presupposed 
 that man has an interest in realizing his wishes in the external 
 world, whether he be utterly corrupt and without any sense for 
 morality in general, or whether he has taken hold of the good 
 for his whole life by a moral resolution, and is merely weak 
 and in danger of forgetting it. In short, we have considered 
 man altogether as occupying the practical standpoint, and as if 
 his will and thinking had no other end in view than to realize 
 through them something in the external world. We have 
 argued as if man considered the internal, the theory and all 
 mediation generally as merely means, and as if he had in view 
 only the connecting with the external. Such a man wDl 
 manifest all that is within him in his external works, and 
 hence if he is reformed internally, the external acts will follow 
 of themselves. 
 
396 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 But there is another disposition, produced not through 
 Nature, hut through art and culture, which holds the internal 
 itself, as the mere disposition of the mind to be the end in 
 view, and which never allows this internal to manifest itself in 
 external acts. Happily this disposition is not common to man- 
 kind ; but at any rate it is possible, and is even to be found in 
 actual life by close observers ; nay, in the progress of mankind 
 upon the road now taken it is even likely to become more and 
 more common. Partly from this reason, and partly because no 
 philosophical moralist has as yet taken notice of it, do I now 
 propose to consider it. 
 
 It is the standpoint from which a person has interest only 
 for internal reflection, for the theoretical, and from which this 
 is the ultimate end in view. I shall call it the speculative state 
 of mind. 
 
 This is no old name ; and I frame it because that which it 
 designates has never yet been designated before, so far as I 
 know, and this word seems to me the best designation. 
 
 "With such a disposition a person merely watches the internal 
 determinations of his mind and character, without relating them 
 to life, and without either acting much at all, or subjecting 
 himself to strict self-examination when he does act, or, indeed, 
 asking what may be the external results of these determinations 
 in Tis. The object in cultivating this disposition may be two- 
 fold : either to attain knowledge, or to attain perfection in that 
 art which results from this continuous and ever manifold play 
 of thoughts. The former I shall call the pure speculative, and 
 the latter the sesthetical state of mind. It is, however, to be 
 observed, that even in the former case, when knowledge is not 
 related to life as the ultimate end of all knowledge, there can 
 be no other end in view than the enjoyment and satisfaction 
 which result from it, and that hence both of these states of 
 mind unite there. The latter enjoys himself in the mere 
 looking on at the internal play of his thoughts, whereas the 
 former enjoys himself in the knowledge and the detailed 
 understanding of this play. Hence both have only enjoyment 
 in view, and in so far the disposition of both is a3sthetioal. 
 
 It cannot be often enough reiterated, that the first interest 
 of the investigator should be only formal. His only object is 
 
APPENDIX TO THE SCIENCE OF MORALS. 397 
 
 to know thoroughly, without having any result in view, or 
 without intending his investigation to confirm any previous 
 opinion of his own. It would he a petty and dishonest pro- 
 cedure to act otherwise. But after he has once, in an impartial 
 discovery, found the truth, this truth must also be related to 
 life. Hence it must be equally reiterated, that knowledge is 
 not its own ultimate end, but that the whole man in his whole 
 culture is his own ultimate end. 
 
 Now such a man, who has acquired an excellent knowledge 
 of all the rules of that play of thoughts, may even apply 
 them, but he does so only for the purpose of -thereby producing 
 another play in his mind. He causes good and noble senti- 
 ments and thoughts to arise in his mind ; but merely in order 
 to observe himself in doing so, in order to make these senti- 
 ments themselves an object of his enjoyment, and to amuse 
 himself at the appearance of harmony, of sublime emotions, 
 &c., which they excite. But he is and remains corrupt ; for 
 the whole interests him for his own enjoyment's sake ; he has 
 no serious interest in it, no interest lying beyond himself. 
 
 Such a man may perhaps know himself thoroughly, may be 
 thoroughly aware of his good and bad qualities and inclinations ; 
 but he neither loves the former nor hates the latter ; he loves 
 and longs for anything only in proportion as it is likely to give 
 more satisfaction to that spiritual play within him. He may 
 censure himself very honestly, but it is with the same sestheti- 
 cal coldness with which he would censure an absurd piece of 
 furniture or the tasteless dress of a stranger. In fact, he does 
 not intend at all to better himself, and his self-censure has no 
 such end in view ; on the contrary : that which constitutes his 
 character, affords to him, as it were, the greatest amusement, 
 because it is the nearest and most attractive play-toy, which he 
 has always under his control; and because he knows its play 
 thoroughly through long observation. 
 
 This disposition is impossible in uncultured men, in whom 
 the conception is always immediately related to acting. If 
 they were not forced to act they never would, think at all. 
 But it is quite frequent amongst artists; and philosophers as 
 well as theologians are also in very great danger of giving 
 themselves up to it. 
 
398 THE SCIENCE OF ETHICS. 
 
 Now this disposition cannot be reformed by the above 
 suggested remedy, since it calculates in all cases upon a 
 practical mode of thinking, which here does not exist; nay, 
 •which such persons, as we have described, may expressly hold 
 aloof from. Hence even the rule of that remedy and its 
 application would become mere play to such persons. They 
 ■would never ask what its results in life might be, since life is 
 for them, indeed, nothing more than a means to promote that 
 spiritual play, and perhaps to afford additional zest to it by 
 furnishing a contrasting background. 
 
 Hence Ascetism would have to treat such persons in 
 another manner. They must first be toned down to the 
 practical standpoint ; must first be infused with interest in life, 
 and in the results of their mode of thinking. But even in 
 their cases the good will must be presupposed ; since no human 
 art can produce it. For even if they are made to see how 
 dangerous and corrupt their state of mind is, and made to wish 
 for a better disposition, such an insight and wish may still 
 co-exist with their old state of miad. It is only those, who 
 have the good wiU, who will take advantage of the only 
 thorough remedy. 
 
 This remedy is : to enter into active life, and to dive deeper 
 and deeper into it, so that it may begin to become really 
 interesting to them, and to claim all those energies which 
 previously slumbered in useless play, thereby exciting in them 
 the wish, which all ordinary men entertain, that they may 
 succeed in what they have undertaken, which will put an end 
 of itself to that empty self-observation. Not till then will 
 they be in a position to apply the other rules of Ascetism to 
 themselves ; and unless they take that first step and return to 
 the standpoint of misdirected humanity, there is no help for 
 them. 
 
 From what we have said, the general remark may be drawn, 
 that the contemplative life, whether it be that of a thinker or 
 of an artist, is connected with great danger for the welfare of 
 the soul, i.e., for the virtue and honesty of those who are 
 devoted to it. It is true, and it is the result of the quiet 
 which it requires and produces, that speculative life is not 
 likely to lead to great crimes, great vices and dissipations, but 
 
APPENDIX TO THE SCIENCE OF MORALS. 399 
 
 it may easily lead to a deeper internal wickedness, which is all 
 the more dangerous. 
 
 Now nothing is further from my intention than to terrify 
 persons away from a speculative life generally, in the ahove 
 general significance — for even in the present work I have 
 shown that it is a part of the necessarily to be realized end of 
 reason — but merely to call your attention to the care, which is 
 necessary for those, who devote themselves to it. Either a 
 person should devote himself not altogether to it, but carry on 
 at the same time a practical business, taking equal interest in 
 the latter, or, if his position in life excludes him from the 
 latter, or if the particular branch of speculation, chosen by 
 him, requires all his energies and time, he should at least pay 
 uninterrupted attention to himself, and take care to carry on 
 the speculative itself as somethmg ■practical ; in other words, 
 to be careful that this speculation or artistic cultivation shall 
 always be directed upon the morality and improvement of him- 
 self and of others, and that he shall always be well conscious 
 of this his intention. He will thus preserve the purity of his 
 character, and carry on his science or art with all the more 
 success; whereas a character of the first description is also 
 easily inclined to turn his speculation or art into a mere empty 
 play, because every thing is play to him. 
 
 I could not close these lectures with a remark more im- 
 portant to young students and beginning philosophers and 
 scholars : I therefore close them with it, and recommend myself 
 to your remembrance aad good wishes. 
 
PLYMOUTH : 
 
 WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, 
 
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