The science of knowledge presupposes, for the purpose of gaining an entrance for itself and a definite problem for itself, that there may be a systematic connection in the manifold elements of those fundamental determinations, by means of which connection, if one is, then all the rest must also be, and be precisely as it is; and hence that those fundamental determinations within the described sphere constitute a system complete in itself.
I say, that science presupposes for itself this in advance. For, first, it is not yet a science, but only becomes such through that presupposition; and, secondly, it only presupposes, but does not prove it at first. Those fundamental determinations are known, let us say, to the teacher of the science of knowledge; whence? it does not matter here; he hits upon the thought—how? it does also not matter here—that there may be a systematic connection between them. He does not as yet maintain this connection, nor does he claim to furnish immediate proof of it, and still less does he claim to prove anything else by his presupposition. His thought may be merely an assumption, an accidental notion, which is therefore to signify nothing more as yet than any other notion.
4. By virtue of this presupposition, the teacher of the science of knowledge now proceeds to the attempt to see whether, from some one fundamental determination of consciousness—this is not the place to say from which—he can deduce all others as necessarily connected with it and determined through it. If the attempt fails, it does not prove that it may not succeed another time, or that the presupposition of a systematic connection is false. It retains its validity as a problem. If the attempt succeeds—if really all the fundamental determinations of consciousness, except the presupposed one, can be completely and exhaustively deduced from it, then the presupposition has been proved by the fact. But even this presupposition, thus proved, is foreign to us in a description of the science of knowledge. The business of that deduction is the science of knowledge itself; where it begins the science begins, and where it ends the science ends.
This, then, my reader, consider settled and fixed between you and me: The science of knowledge is the systematic deduction of an actual, of the first degree of consciousness; and that science is related to this consciousness as the above demonstration of a watch is related to the real watch. Being mere science of knowledge, it has no pretensions to be anything else, or anything besides; and would rather not be than be anything else than what it is. Every one who claims anything more or else for it does not know that science.
The objects of the science of knowledge are the fundamental determinations of a consciousness, as such—i.e. as the determinations of a consciousness—and on no account as things actually existing outside of consciousness. We shall see after a while that both may be one and the same in and for that science, but we shall also see why the science can take only the former view. At present it suffices to state it as a fact.
Now these fundamental determinations of consciousness, which the science of knowledge has for its object, also occur in actual perception—or rather those determinations themselves are perceptions; but the science of knowledge has them for its object in quite a different manner from that in which perception has them. Precisely as the consciousness of the real presence of your friend was related to the representation of that presence, or as the actual watch was related to the demonstration of a watch, so actual consciousness is related to the science of knowledge. When we philosophize we immerse ourself not into these fundamental determinations themselves, but into the reproducing and reconstructing of them.
Hence the science of knowledge, without paying any attention to actual perception, deduces a prioriwhat it asserts ought to occur in perception, and hence a posteriori.
This sphere the science of knowledge has adopted ever since its first existence—nay, has clearly indicated it by its very name. It is scarcely to be comprehended why people will not believe that science to be what it states itself to be.
Limiting itself to this sphere, the science of knowledge can allow every other philosophy to be what it pleases: love of wisdom, wisdom, world-wisdom, life-wisdom, or whatever other kind of wisdom there may be. But that science makes the fair request that itself should not be taken for the equal of those other sciences, and should not be judged and refuted from their standpoint; and the authors and professors of that science only ask that they shall not be compelled to become co-laborers in those other philosophies, or to take notice of them. As for the dispute, what this one or that one may consider philosophy to be, the science of knowledge takes no cognizance of it. It appeals to its right to select its own problem; and if anything but the solution of this problem is to be called philosophy, then it does not choose to be called philosophy.
I hope, my reader, that this description of the science of knowledge, as a mere historical description, is altogether clear and comprehensible, and admits of no ambiguity whatever. I merely wish to request you to remember this description, and not to forget it at the first opportunity; and to believe me that I am serious in this description, and that it is to last forever, I repudiating whatsoever may contradict it.