first time.
It is the aristocratic nature of this Immanent Idealism which first awakens suspicion and opposition. Spiritual creation, from which it expects complete salvation, can take possession of and satisfy the whole soul only where it breaks forth spontaneously with great and powerful effect, where, with overwhelming power, it raises man above himself. An incontrovertible experience shows us that this takes place only in rare and exceptional cases; there must be a union of many forces before man can rise to such a height and be swayed by the compulsion of this creation. Now, it is true that the gain of such red-letter days carries its effect into ordinary days and that from the heights light pours down upon lower levels. But in such transmission there is a serious and inevitable loss in power and purity; indeed, in veracity: that which fills the life of those producing it and arouses it to its highest passion easily becomes to the receiver a subsidiary matter, a pleasant accompanying experience. Thus we see epochs of organisation follow upon times of creation, but we see that such organisation sinks more and more into a reflective and passive reproduction. Such organisation tends to become mere imagination; the man imbued with the spirit of such organisation easily seems to himself more than he is; with a false self-consciousness talks and feels as though he were at a supreme height; lives less his own life than an alien one. Sooner or later opposition must necessarily arise against such a half-life, such a life of pretence, and this opposition will become especially strong if it is animated by the desire that all who bear human features should participate in the chief goods of our existence and freely co-operate in the highest tasks. It must be observed that this longing is one which, at the present time, is found to be irresistible. And so the aristocratic character of Immanent Idealism produces a type of life rigidly exclusive, harsh and intolerable.
But not only does this type of life lack complete power and truthfulness in regard to mankind as a whole; it is subject to similar limitations in relation to the world and to things. All success in our relation to the world and to things depends on the spiritual constituting the thing’s own depth, on things finding their genuine being in it, and where this depth is reached, on the visible world uniting with it willingly, indeed joyfully, and moulding itself solely and completely for spiritual expression. Spirit and world must strive together in mutual trust and each must finally be completely involved one in the other; reality must build itself up, if not at one stroke, at any rate in ceaseless advance as a kingdom of reason. A solution at once so simple and so easy bluntly contradicts the experiences of the last century. Both without and within the soul of man an infinite concreteness makes itself evident, which withstands all derivation from general principles, all insertion into a comprehensive scheme, obstinately asserts its particularity, forms its own complexes, and follows its own course. The realistic mode of thought of the Modern Age has brought this aspect of reality to full recognition. If the spiritual life cannot take complete possession of things, if a realm of facts continues to exist over against it, it may be doubted whether the spiritual is of the ultimate being of the world and reveals the reality of things, or whether it merely comes to them from without and only touches their surface. In the latter case external limitation becomes the cause of an inward convulsion. This is a fact which we find corroborated when we come to reflect that Immanent Idealism treats the spiritual life in man much too hastily and boldly as absolute spiritual life; that it attributes to human capacity, without further consideration, that which belongs to spiritual life in general. The experiences of modern life place the particularity and insignificant of man more and more before our eyes; they enable us to see with what difficulty and how slowly any kind of spiritual life whatever has emerged in the human sphere, and with what toil it maintains itself there; they insist that, if the spiritual life is not to sink down to a mere appearance to man, a sharp distinction must be made between the substance of the spiritual life and the form of its existence in man; in every sphere modern life puts questions which lead beyond the position of Immanent Idealism. Immanent Idealism seems to treat the problem of life much too summarily and not to penetrate sufficiently to ultimate depths.
The conflict between Immanent Idealism and modern life is still more keen in regard to the problem whether reality is rational. It is essential to this Idealism to affirm this rationality; it need not conceive it as present in a complete state, but it must be sure of an advance to it; the movement of reality, with its antitheses and conflicts, must pass in elements of reason. Immanent Idealism tolerates no inner division of the spiritual life; wherever spiritual movement emerges, there can be no doubt concerning the aim; the development of power must bring the right disposition with it; every limitation can come only from weakness or misunderstanding; there can be no radical evil. With an optimism of this kind the leading minds of German classical literature are imbued; but how much, in the midst of all the progress of civilisation, in the nineteenth century the appearance of the world has been darkened! We see now with complete clearness the indifference of the forces of nature towards the aims of the spirit; we see the incessant crossing of the work of reason by blind necessity; we see the spiritual life divided against itself, eminent spiritual powers drawn into the service of lower interests, and carried away by unrestrained passion. In a time of extraordinary increase of technical and social culture, we see the spiritual life win scarcely anything, in fact, seriously recede; we see it become perplexed concerning its main direction, and oscillate in uncertainty between different possibilities. We experience in every sphere a violent convulsion of the spirit. How can Immanent Idealism satisfy us under such circumstances; how can it assure to our life a firm basis?
Indeed, we may now doubt whether Immanent Idealism signifies a type of life at all; whether it is not simply a compromise between a religious shaping of life and a life turned towards sense experience; a via media, which as merely transitional is only able to maintain itself for a time. The historical experience of the Modern Age seems to show that the latter hypothesis is the true one. At the beginning of the epoch Religion stood in secure supremacy and the divine acted on man from a sovereignty that was supreme over the world. Then the divine came ever closer to the world that it might spread itself over it and permeate it, till finally there was no longer any separation, and God and world blended together in a single whole. At first this seemed a pure and a great gain: the divine put off all rigid sovereignty and spoke to us immediately out of the whole extent of life; the world was related, through the power of the divine, to an inner whole and, illuminated by it, received a transfigured appearance. And yet this solution was only apparent; it contained an inner contradiction, which ultimately was bound to break forth with a power of destruction. The divine had developed its power and its depth in opposition to the world; will it retain that power and that depth if the opposition ceases; will not the renunciation of supremacy, the fusion with things, rob it of all distinctive content? As a matter of fact, with this increase in proximity and extension, the divine fades and dissolves more and more; ever less power proceeds from it: and so the world is ever less transformed and elevated by it; its transfiguring light is dissipated and its inner relations are broken. From being a life-penetrating power Pantheism becomes more and more a vague disposition; indeed, an empty phrase. The living whole, which in the beginning raised things to itself, has finally become a mere abstraction which cannot hold its ground before vigorous thought. Thus, with an immanent dialectic, such as historical life often enough shows, the movement, since it strove for breadth, has been destroyed in its life-giving root; it has abandoned the basis from which it derived its truth and power. Immanent Idealism shows itself to be one great contradiction; a fascinating illusion, which, instead of reality, presents us with mere appearance.
Of course, Immanent Idealism is not finally refuted by such doubts and difficulties; it puts forward demands which need to be satisfied in some way; it contains truths which in some manner must be acknowledged. What would become of human life if it should abandon its striving forwards to the whole; its spiritual penetration of the world; its advance in greatness and breadth; its joyous and vigorous nature; the excellence of its disposition? But the indispensable truth that is involved in Immanent Idealism must be brought into wider relations, and thus made clear and modified, so that it may be more secure and more fruitful in its effect. Meanwhile, we see that here also we are in complete uncertainty; that which was intended to give a firm support, and to point out a clear course to our life, has itself become a difficult problem.
(b) THE NEWER SYSTEMS
No
