CHAPTER VII.

GERMAN PHILOSOPHY.

Kant-Fichte-Schelling-Hegel-Schleiermacher-Schopenhauer.

FOR those who have ceased to regard the mind as a mystery, a critical review of the German a priori philosophy is unnecessary, for they will easily identify this new growth of Idealism with its kindred errors of the past. They will regard such events as the Centennial translation of Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason," by Professor Max Müller, and other like publications, as the last guns which obstinate artillerymen fire after the tide of battle has turned against them and their cause has been rendered hopeless.

The vast majority of people, however polite may be their culture, are accustomed to view history through its external events, and to judge thought by its official position. To them, reformations are invisible until their effects become crystallized in structural changes, and logical movements are unappreciated until they appear in text-books and encyclopædias. To such as these the a priori philosophy will be a reality as long as animate professors expound it to living students. But to the earnest thinker who is in full sympathy with the progress of his times, whether he be able or not to state categorically his belief, there are abundant evidences that Idealism has been permanently superseded by a higher and a better faith. The proof of this is the increasing contempt with which scientific men, whatever may be their religion, regard metaphysics, and the importance which the teaching of morality has gained over the mere defence of dogma throughout the Christian world. An understanding of the scope of language has insensibly dawned upon our era, as a result

of which ideas are subordinated to actions; beliefs are beginning to be estimated by the lives of the believers; and although the organization of religion and learning remains apparently the same, theology and metaphysics, considered as distinct sciences, are almost universally regarded as merely formal acquirements of little or no practical value. When in addition to these facts it is remembered that almost every surviving system of theology or of metaphysics is idealistic in its tendency, we perceive that there is in effect a popular uprising against the empty idioms of the a priori school, which extends far and wide beyond the limits of philosophic culture.

We have no idea, however, of depending upon a sympathy so general and indefinite for the refutation of Idealism. There are too many instances in history of the re-establishment of false doctrines long after they have been to all appearances destroyed, to trust to what is, after all, but a harbinger of victory.

As Germany slowly arose from the almost indescribable desolation of the Thirty Years' War, she entered upon a century of her history during which she had no national existence or memories, no literature or language, no social, religious, or moral life. The nation had expired when peace was concluded in 1648. This war not only destroyed an old civilization which was fairly abreast with that of the rest of Europe; it so completely destroyed it that the nation has been two hundred years in regaining her natural status in the world. Commercial statistics show that the general prosperity of Germany in 1850 had but just reached the level of that which she enjoyed at the beginning of the war of 1618. "The highly cultivated language of Luther was forgotten, together with the whole literature of his time. Many schools and churches stood abandoned, for public instruction and public worship had nearly perished. * * * There was no middle class nor gentry left; the higher noblemen had become petty despotic princes, with no hand over them, since the Emperor was but a name; the lower went

to their court to do lackey's service. A whole generation had grown up during the war, and considered its savage barbarism as a normal state of society. ✶ ✶ ✶ For all habits of self-government, even in the cities, had gone; the gentlemen had become courtiers instead of magistrates. An unprecedented coarseness of manners had invaded not only courts and cities, but also the universities and the clergy."

1

A century later, when Frederick II. realized the desires of Prussia in a reign memorable for its impartial devotion to the whole nation, firmly establishing the Prussian State, the intellectual life of Germany was not only awakened but immediately burst into a luxuriant growth. Universities were established and regenerated, great scholars, great poets, and great thinkers immediately appeared. Leibnitz, Kant, Goethe, Schiller, Herder, and the rest, came to glorify the new national life. The beauties of the ancient classics were rediscovered, history was read by fresh minds and its organic nature disclosed, sciences were created to deal with the new problems of life; for a nation had arisen and taken a new interest in humanity. In the midst of this intellectual exaltation German philosophy was born. Is it any wonder that its whole existence has been marked by a kind of subjective intoxication?

Each national language formulates its philosophy with an unfeigned satisfaction and pride. The old, old problems of life, which Greece absorbed from the East and expressed so vividly, were new in Germany; but a careful examination of their structure discloses them to be of the same logical species as their progenitors. The German type of these problems, however, has marked modifications due to a greater and a higher environment. German philosophy is more Greek than the Grecian; it is a refined leaven of the Greek thought, so powerful that it has fermented the mind of Europe ever since its appearance. It has produced idealists beside whose theories Plato's Idealism is rational; it has produced materialists whom Aristotle would not have recognized; it has

1 See "German Thought," by Karl Hillebrand.

generated skeptics whom Carneades would have wondered at. But of all these schools Idealism has taken the deepest root, its fancies have most pleased the multitude, and what was in the beginning the innocent recreation of a few literati has become a national vice.

How different has it been with France and England! These nations have had their wars and revolutions, but they have never suffered destruction; their development has had no great gap in it; it has been more gradual, and consequently more rational. During the time that Germany was slowly regaining life, France was leading the civilization of Europe under Louis XIV. England was in advance in political institutions and religious liberty, and, as well as Spain and Holland, was superior in commerce and conquest; but in all those graces of life and mind which tend to develop and refine the individual, and in the unity and strength of her national life, France of the eighteenth century was preeminent. "The French," says Taine, "became civilized by conversation. Their phrases, still formal, under Balzac are looser and lightened; they launch out, flow speedily, and under Voltaire they find their wings. Pedantic sciences, political economy, theology, the sullen denizens of the Academy and the Sorbonne, speak but in epigrams. *** What a flight was this of the eighteenth century! Was society ever more anxious for lofty truths, more bold in their search, more quick to discover, more ardent in embracing them? The perfumed marquises, all these pretty, welldressed, gallant, frivolous people, crowd to philosophy as to the opera; the origin of animated beings, the question of free judgment, the principles of political economy,—all is to them a matter for paradoxes and discoveries."

Just previous to this time we find Leibnitz complaining of the sensuality and ignorance of the German gentry as compared with the love of science in England, and the intelligence and culture of the French. Count Mannteufel writes to Wolff, as late as 1738, " The German princes, who might be compared to your lords, think it beneath their dignity to cultivate their mind."

Thus we have England, in the first half of the eighteenth century, enriched by Shakespeare, Dryden, Pope, Addison, and Swift, and learning from Locke and Newton; France in possession of Pascal, Descartes, Molière, Malebranche, Racine, and Boileau; England earnest and studious; France brilliant and refined, and Germany as yet intellectually unborn.

Looking at Germany from the closing years of the nineteenth century, with an unequalled army of trained scientists animated by the true spirit of original investigation, and almost universal culture, with intellectual and religious freedom, one might easily expect great things of her. But her originality, her genius, which attained such a marvellous life during the century which closed with 1850, has seemingly passed away, and it is in her abnormal Idealism, the natural consequence of a sudden intellectual development, that we are to find the cause.

There is a lesson to be learned from the process which underlies the survival of great names in history. It is that the most indestructible lives are not necessarily those which have most interested their contemporaries, but those which have instigated the most needed reforms. As these lives recede in history, they fade out or become brighter according to the degree in which they have actually served the needs of their time. We find, therefore, that the reputation of Kant, the first of the great German thinkers, depends upon the intrinsic value of his philosophy, although his philosophy is really the least impressive feature of his life. What Germany most needed, what every nation most needs, is a true philosophy. Kant endeavored to supply this need, and if he failed, his great learning, his broad humanity, his moral acumen, may insure for him the lasting love and esteem of his countrymen, but they cannot sustain his greatness as a logical reformer.

The "Critique of Pure Reason" is acknowledged to be the representative work of Kant. Let us carefully examine it with a view to forming an estimate of its value.