Hence, the teacher of the Science of Knowledge probably possesses the conception of such a unity, of such a purpose and result of all consciousness, to which he reduces the manifold as conditions of the same.
A. Undoubtedly.
R. This unity he cannot first discover in the system, but must possess it before he commences his systematic deduction, precisely as the artist must first know what purpose his work of art is to serve before he can hunt up the means wherewith to attain it.
A. Unquestionably; the teacher of the Science of Knowledge must possess the conception of the unity in advance of the system.
R. The artist arbitrarily thinks this purpose, and produces it through his thinking, since the existence of the work of art, as well as its form, depends altogether upon the artist. But since the teacher of the Science of Knowledge does on no account produce consciousness, (it existing independently of him and existing thus precisely as it is, even by your own confession,) it is not well possible, that the artist can produce this unitythrough free thinking, since the manifold, which exists actually, and without the co-operation of the philosopher, must likewise relate itself to that unity, independently of the philosopher. Neither can he, as has already been said, find that unity in his systematic deduction, for the unity is presupposed as condition of the possibility of the deduction. Nor can he find the unity through perceptions in actual consciousness, for only the manifold, and not the unity, occurs in actual consciousness. How, then, and in what manner is he to arrive at this unity?
A. It suffices, if you assume that he arrived at it through some happy chance. He guessesthis unity. This, of course, gives him only an assumption, and he must take the risk of building his system upon it entirely on the assumption that he has guessed correctly.
If the investigation shows, finally, that all the manifold of consciousness can really be reduced to that assumption, as to its unity, but only then, has he proved by this very reduction that his presupposition was correct. The presupposition has been proved by the fact, by the establishment of the system.
R. Well, grant even this. But again: The artist knows in advance of his conception the necessary and unchangeable laws of his mechanism, those laws, upon which he calculated in his combination of the manifold for the achievement of a certain result. He knows, likewise, the materials and their qualities, out of which he proposes to form the manifold, and upon the unchangeableness whereof he also bases his calculation in his conception. Now, if the comparison is to hold good, the philosopher must also have, in advance of his deduction, a knowledge of unchangeable laws, according to which the manifold of consciousness produces the presupposed unit-result, and moreover—unless I am very much deceived—also, a knowledge of a material component of consciousness, which is already determined by these laws.
Let me, for the present, assume merely the first. But how does the philosopher obtain the knowledge of these laws? Does he, perchance, hit upon them by a lucky guess, until they prove themselves correct by the fact that the manifold of consciousness can be explained according to them from the presupposed chief result; similarly as the fact, that precisely this result is the ultimate result of these laws, proves the result to be correct?
A. You make fun of the Science of Knowledge, but with rather more profundity than is usual. No; the Science of Knowledge does not proceed in this manner, for that were to proceed in a most vicious and self-evident circle.
I am very content to keep to the comparison once adopted. Let the teacher of the Science of Knowledge be the artist who builds up the art-work of consciousness, which however exists already, as he cheerfully admits; which he, therefore, only re-invents, and yet invents altogether, since he never looks at the existing artwork during the operation.
But the great distinction is this: the artist who produces a mechanical work operates upon dead matter, which he puts in motion, while the philosopher operates upon a living something, which moves itself. He does not so much generate consciousness as that he rather causes consciousness to generate itself under his observation. Now, if consciousness operates according to laws, it doubtless will generate itself according to these laws, and the observing philosopher will thus discover these laws at the same time; although his final object was not to obtain a knowledge of these laws, but of their total result, consciousness.
R. What!