Sun-Clear Statement. Johann Gottlieb Fichte
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quoted example of mathematical (or any other positive) science, has always been rejected and denounced as improper. The argument is: these conceptions are after all grounded in the natural way of thinking of mankind, and hence they are surely in a certain respect inborn.
Now it is to be remembered that, so far as the newest philosophy is concerned, it by no means denies to common sense the right to talk about those subjects, but rather vindicates to common sense that right more emphatically, it appears to me, than any previous philosophy has done; solely requiring of common sense to limit those discussions to its own sphere, and for its own mode of arguing; but on no account to assert them to be philosophically scientific, since the philosophical sphere does not exist at all for common sense. Common sense has the perfect right to argue about those subjects, and perhaps may argue very correctly; but common sense cannot philosophize about them, for this is possible only to those who have learned to philosophize.
If, nevertheless, people are so anxious to retain that favorite expression, "philosophy," and to continue to glory in the celebrity of a "philosophical mind," "philosophical lawyer," "philosophical historian," "philosophical newspaper-writer," &c., let them adopt my repeated proposition, that scientific philosophy should abandon the name "philosophy," and assume the name "science of knowledge." Once assured of this name, our science will gladly assign that other name, " philosophy," to all sorts of arguing. Let the public at large, in that case, and all who have not thoroughly studied that science, consider it as some newly-discovered, unknown science, and have faith in our assurance that this science has nothing in common with what they call philosophy, and hence can never enter into conflict with it. Their philosophy shall retain all possible dignity and honor; we ask them only to allow us our claim to the natural freedom of all men, not to take any notice of their philosophy, and beg them likewise not to take any notice of our science in their so-called philosophy.
The following is therefore the real purpose of this work: not to secure any new sphere for the newest philosophy, but merely to secure a just place for it within its own limits. This work itself is not philosophy, in the true sense of the word, but merely argument. Whoever has read and understood it from beginning to end has not thereby acquired a single philosophical conception, but solely a conception of philosophy; he has never stepped from the field of common sense, or into that of philosophy, but he has arrived at the limit which separates the two. If thereupon he desires to study this philosophy, he will at least know what he has to direct his attention, upon, and what he has to look away from. If he does not desire to do so, he has at least gained the clear consciousness that he does not desire it, and never did desire it; and that hence he ought to disclaim all judgment regarding philosophical matters. He will also have become convinced that true philosophy can never interfere with or disturb his own peculiar sphere.
Introduction
My reader, before you proceed to the reading of this work, let us come to a preliminary agreements
That which you are going to read in this book has, it is true, been thought by me; but it matters not, either to you or to me, that you should know what I have thought. However much it may have been your habit to read works merely in order to know what their authors have thought and said, I still wish that you should proceed differently in respect to this book. I appeal not to your memory, but to your understanding. My object is not that you should remark what I have said, but that you should yourself think, and, if it pleases heaven, think precisely what I have thought. Hence, if in the reading of this work it should happen to you—as so often happens to readers now-a-days—that you should continue to read, without continuing to think—that you should still be taking hold of the words, without, however, continuing to seize their meaning—desist, redouble your attention, and read over again from the sentence where your attention slipped off, or put the book aside for the day, and commence tomorrow with fresh vigor. Only on this condition on your part can I fulfil the proud promise on the title-page—to force you to an understanding. You must really come out with your mind and oppose it to mine for battle, and to this I cannot force you. If you hold back, I have lost the wager; you will understand nothing, just as you can see nothing if you close your eyes.
But if it should happen to you that from a certain point in this work you cannot in any manner, and by any exertion, convince yourself of the correctness of my assertions, put the book aside, and leave it unread for a considerable time. Continue to use your understanding in the accustomed manner, without thinking about the book; and, perhaps, all of a sudden, without your intending it in any way, the condition of understanding it will come of itself, and you will after a while comprehend quite readily and well what at present you cannot comprehend by any exertion. Such things have also occurred to us, who at present claim some power of thinking. But let me entreat you to give God the praise for it, and to keep utterly silent on this subject until the condition of understanding this work, and its comprehension, have arisen in you.
My argument is one uninterrupted chain of conclusions; each subsequent point is true only on condition of its preceding point having been found to be true by you. If it has not been so found by you, you cannot continue to think as I have thought, and hence your persisting to read would have no other result than to make you acquainted with what I have thought. But this result has always been considered by me as very insignificant; and I have often marvelled at the modesty of most men in placing such a high value upon the thoughts of others, and so little value upon their own, that they will rather spend their whole lives in making themselves acquainted with those, than generate any of their own—a modesty which I desire should be utterly waived in the case of my thoughts.
I.
By observing the external world, and his own internal self, each man of healthy senses receives a collection of cognitions, experiences, and facts. These, the given of immediate perception, he can also renew in himself without that actual perception; he can reflect upon and can hold the manifold of the perception together; can hunt up that wherein the separates of the manifold agree, and that wherein they do not agree. In this manner, if a man has but an ordinary, healthy understanding, his knowledge will become clearer, more definite, and useful—will become a possession, which he can administer with complete freedom and agility—but on no account will his knowledge be increased by thus reflecting upon it. He can reflect only upon what he has perceived or observed, and can compare it only with itself, but on no account can he produce new objects by mere thinking.
This collection of knowledge, and a certain more or less superficial or thorough control over it by freely reflecting upon it, you and I and all men possess in common; and this is doubtless what is meant when people speak of a system or of propositions of common sense.
II.
There did exist a philosophy which claimed that it could increase the above described collection by a mere drawing of conclusions, and which held that thinking was not only what we have just described it to be—a mere analyzing and recomposing of the given—but, at the same time, a producing and creating of something altogether new. According to this system, the philosopher was exclusively possessed of certain cognitions which common sense could not attain. According to it, the philosopher could produce through argument, a God, and an immortality for himself, and could argue himself wise and good. If such philosophers are logical, they must declare common sense to be insufficient for the purposes of daily life—since, otherwise, their expanding system would become superfluous—and must invite all who bear a human face to become as great philosophers as they are themselves, so that all may likewise become as good and virtuous as these philosophers.
III.
My reader, does a philosophical system, such as I have just now described, appear to you to be honorable to common sense and its interests—a system which insists of common sense that it should be cured of its inborn blindness in the school of the philosopher, and should there get an artificial light to replace its own natural light?
Now, if to this system