第 81 页

Hobbes maintains that the state of nature is a state of injustice

and violence, and that we must leave it and submit ourselves to the

constraint of law, which indeed limits individual freedom, but only

that it may consist with the freedom of others and with the common

good of all.

This freedom will, among other things, permit of our openly

stating the difficulties and doubts which we are ourselves unable to

solve, without being decried on that account as turbulent and

dangerous citizens. This privilege forms part of the native rights

of human reason, which recognizes no other judge than the universal

reason of humanity; and as this reason is the source of all progress

and improvement, such a privilege is to be held sacred and inviolable.

It is unwise, moreover, to denounce as dangerous any bold assertions

against, or rash attacks upon, an opinion which is held by the largest

and most moral class of the community; for that would be giving them

an importance which they do not deserve. When I hear that the

freedom of the will, the hope of a future life, and the existence of

God have been overthrown by the arguments of some able writer, I

feel a strong desire to read his book; for I expect that he will add

to my knowledge and impart greater clearness and distinctness to my

views by the argumentative power shown in his writings. But I am

perfectly certain, even before I have opened the book, that he has not

succeeded in a single point, not because I believe I am in

possession of irrefutable demonstrations of these important

propositions, but because this transcendental critique, which has

disclosed to me the power and the limits of pure reason, has fully

convinced me that, as it is insufficient to establish the affirmative,

it is as powerless, and even more so, to assure us of the truth of the

negative answer to these questions. From what source does this

free-thinker derive his knowledge that there is, for example, no

Supreme Being? This proposition lies out of the field of possible

experience, and, therefore, beyond the limits of human cognition.

But I would not read at, all the answer which the dogmatical

maintainer of the good cause makes to his opponent, because I know

well beforehand, that he will merely attack the fallacious grounds

of his adversary, without being able to establish his own

assertions. Besides, a new illusory argument, in the construction of

which talent and acuteness are shown, is suggestive of new ideas and

new trains of reasoning, and in this respect the old and everyday

sophistries are quite useless. Again, the dogmatical opponent of

religion gives employment to criticism, and enables us to test and

correct its principles, while there is no occasion for anxiety in

regard to the influence and results of his reasoning.

But, it will be said, must we not warn the youth entrusted to

academical care against such writings, must we not preserve them

from the knowledge of these dangerous assertions, until their

judgement is ripened, or rather until the doctrines which we wish to

inculcate are so firmly rooted in their minds as to withstand all

attempts at instilling the contrary dogmas, from whatever quarter they

may come?

If we are to confine ourselves to the dogmatical procedure in the

sphere of pure reason, and find ourselves unable to settle such

disputes otherwise than by becoming a party in them, and setting

counter-assertions against the statements advanced by our opponents,

there is certainly no plan more advisable for the moment, but, at

the same time, none more absurd and inefficient for the future, than

this retaining of the youthful mind under guardianship for a time, and

thus preserving it- for so long at least- from seduction into error.

But when, at a later period, either curiosity, or the prevalent

fashion of thought places such writings in their hands, will the

so-called convictions of their youth stand firm? The young thinker,

who has in his armoury none but dogmatical weapons with which to

resist the attacks of his opponent, and who cannot detect the latent

dialectic which lies in his own opinions as well as in those of the

opposite party, sees the advance of illusory arguments and grounds

of proof which have the advantage of novelty, against as illusory

grounds of proof destitute of this advantage, and which, perhaps,

excite the suspicion that the natural credulity of his youth has

been abused by his instructors. He thinks he can find no better

means of showing that he has out grown the discipline of his

minority than by despising those well-meant warnings, and, knowing

no system of thought but that of dogmatism, he drinks deep draughts of

the poison that is to sap the principles in which his early years were

trained.

Exactly the opposite of the system here recommended ought to be

pursued in academical instruction. This can only be effected, however,

by a thorough training in the critical investigation of pure reason.

For, in order to bring the principles of this critique into exercise

as soon as possible, and to demonstrate their perfect even in the

presence of the highest degree of dialectical illusion, the student

ought to examine the assertions made on both sides of speculative

questions step by step, and to test them by these principles. It

cannot be a difficult task for him to show the fallacies inherent in

these propositions, and thus he begins early to feel his own power

of securing himself against the influence of such sophistical

arguments, which must finally lose, for him, all their illusory power.

And, although the same blows which overturn the edifice of his

opponent are as fatal to his own speculative structures, if such he

has wished to rear; he need not feel any sorrow in regard to this

seeming misfortune, as he has now before him a fair prospect into

the practical region in which he may reasonably hope to find a more

secure foundation for a rational system.

There is, accordingly, no proper polemic in the sphere of pure

reason. Both parties beat the air and fight with their own shadows, as

they pass beyond the limits of nature, and can find no tangible

point of attack- no firm footing for their dogmatical conflict.

Fight as vigorously as they may, the shadows which they hew down,

immediately start up again, like the heroes in Walhalla, and renew the

bloodless and unceasing contest.

But neither can we admit that there is any proper sceptical

employment of pure reason, such as might be based upon the principle

of neutrality in all speculative disputes. To excite reason against

itself, to place weapons in the hands of the party on the one side

as well as in those of the other, and to remain an undisturbed and

sarcastic spectator of the fierce struggle that ensues, seems, from

the dogmatical point of view, to be a part fitting only a malevolent

disposition. But, when the sophist evidences an invincible obstinacy

and blindness, and a pride which no criticism can moderate, there is

no other practicable course than to oppose to this pride and obstinacy

similar feelings and pretensions on the other side, equally well or

ill founded, so that reason, staggered by the reflections thus

forced upon it, finds it necessary to moderate its confidence in

such pretensions and to listen to the advice of criticism. But we

cannot stop at these doubts, much less regard the conviction of our

ignorance, not only as a cure for the conceit natural to dogmatism,

but as the settlement of the disputes in which reason is involved with

itself. On the contrary, scepticism is merely a means of awakening

reason from its dogmatic dreams and exciting it to a more careful

investigation into its own powers and pretensions. But, as

scepticism appears to be the shortest road to a permanent peace in the

domain of philosophy, and as it is the track pursued by the many who

aim at giving a philosophical colouring to their contemptuous

dislike of all inquiries of this kind, I think it necessary to present

to my readers this mode of thought in its true light.

Scepticism not a Permanent State for Human Reason.

The consciousness of ignorance- unless this ignorance is

recognized to be absolutely necessary ought, instead of forming the

conclusion of my inquiries, to be the strongest motive to the

pursuit of them. All ignorance is either ignorance of things or of the

limits of knowledge. If my ignorance is accidental and not

necessary, it must incite me, in the first case, to a dogmatical

inquiry regarding the objects of which I am ignorant; in the second,

to a critical investigation into the bounds of all possible knowledge.

But that my ignorance is absolutely necessary and unavoidable, and

that it consequently absolves from the duty of all further

investigation, is a fact which cannot be made out upon empirical

grounds- from observation- but upon critical grounds alone, that is,

by a thoroughgoing investigation into the primary sources of

cognition. It follows that the determination of the bounds of reason

can be made only on a priori grounds; while the empirical limitation

of reason, which is merely an indeterminate cognition of an

ignorance that can never be completely removed, can take place only

a posteriori. In other words, our empirical knowledge is limited by

that which yet remains for us to know. The former cognition of our

ignorance, which is possible only on a rational basis, is a science;

the latter is merely a perception, and we cannot say how far the

inferences drawn from it may extend. If I regard the earth, as it

really appears to my senses, as a flat surface, I am ignorant how

far this surface extends. But experience teaches me that, how far

soever I go, I always see before me a space in which I can proceed

farther; and thus I know the limits- merely visual- of my actual

knowledge of the earth, although I am ignorant of the limits of the

earth itself. But if I have got so far as to know that the earth is

a sphere, and that its surface is spherical, I can cognize a priori

and determine upon principles, from my knowledge of a small part of

this surface- say to the extent of a degree- the diameter and

circumference of the earth; and although I am ignorant of the

objects which this surface contains, I have a perfect knowledge of its

limits and extent.

The sum of all the possible objects of our cognition seems to us

to be a level surface, with an apparent horizon- that which forms

the limit of its extent, and which has been termed by us the idea of

unconditioned totality. To reach this limit by empirical means is

impossible, and all attempts to determine it a priori according to a

principle, are alike in vain. But all the questions raised by pure

reason relate to that which lies beyond this horizon, or, at least, in

its boundary line.

The celebrated David Hume was one of those geographers of human

reason who believe that they have given a sufficient answer to all

such questions by declaring them to lie beyond the horizon of our

knowledge- a horizon which, however, Hume was unable to determine. His

attention especially was directed to the principle of causality; and

he remarked with perfect justice that the truth of this principle, and

even the objective validity of the conception of a cause, was not

commonly based upon clear insight, that is, upon a priori cognition.

Hence he concluded that this law does not derive its authority from

its universality and necessity, but merely from its general

applicability in the course of experience, and a kind of subjective

necessity thence arising, which he termed habit. From the inability of

reason to establish this principle as a necessary law for the

acquisition of all experience, he inferred the nullity of all the

attempts of reason to pass the region of the empirical.

This procedure of subjecting the facta of reason to examination,

and, if necessary, to disapproval, may be termed the censura of

reason. This censura must inevitably lead us to doubts regarding all

transcendent employment of principles. But this is only the second

step in our inquiry. The first step in regard to the subjects of

pure reason, and which marks the infancy of that faculty, is that of

dogmatism. The second, which we have just mentioned, is that of

scepticism, and it gives evidence that our judgement has been improved

by experience. But a third step is necessary- indicative of the

maturity and manhood of the judgement, which now lays a firm

foundation upon universal and necessary principles. This is the period

of criticism, in which we do not examine the facta of reason, but

reason itself, in the whole extent of its powers, and in regard to its

capability of a priori cognition; and thus we determine not merely the

empirical and ever-shifting bounds of our knowledge, but its necessary

and eternal limits. We demonstrate from indubitable principles, not

merely our ignorance in respect to this or that subject, but in regard

to all possible questions of a certain class. Thus scepticism is a

resting place for reason, in which it may reflect on its dogmatical

wanderings and gain some knowledge of the region in which it happens

to be, that it may pursue its way with greater certainty; but it

cannot be its permanent dwelling-place. It must take up its abode only

in the region of complete certitude, whether this relates to the

cognition of objects themselves, or to the limits which bound all

our cognition.

Reason is not to be considered as an indefinitely extended plane, of

the bounds of which we have only a general knowledge; it ought

rather to be compared to a sphere, the radius of which may be found

from the curvature of its surface- that is, the nature of a priori

synthetical propositions- and, consequently, its circumference and

extent. Beyond the sphere of experience there are no objects which

it can cognize; nay, even questions regarding such supposititious

objects relate only to the subjective principles of a complete

determination of the relations which exist between the

understanding-conceptions which lie within this sphere.

We are actually in possession of a priori synthetical cognitions, as