No More Learning

e. , a pure will, yet it is not on that
account to be regarded as its determining principle; and the moral law
alone must be regarded as the principle on which that and its
realization or promotion are aimed at. This remark is important in
so delicate a case as the determination of moral principles, where the
slightest misinterpretation perverts men's minds. For it will have
been seen from the Analytic that, if we assume any object under the
name of a good as a determining principle of the will prior to the
moral law and then deduce from it the supreme practical principle,
this would always introduce heteronomy and crush out the moral
principle.

It is, however, evident that if the notion of the summum bonum
includes that of the moral law as its supreme condition, then the
summum bonum would not merely be an object, but the notion of it and
the conception of its existence as possible by our own practical
reason would likewise be the determining principle of the will,
since in that case the will is in fact determined by the moral law
which is already included in this conception, and by no other
object, as the principle of autonomy requires. This order of the
conceptions of determination of the will must not be lost sight of, as
otherwise we should misunderstand ourselves and think we had fallen
into a contradiction, while everything remains in perfect harmony.

BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2

CHAPTER II. Of the Dialectic of Pure Reason in defining the

Conception of the "Summum Bonum".



The conception of the summum itself contains an ambiguity which
might occasion needless disputes if we did not attend to it. The
summum may mean either the supreme (supremum) or the perfect
(consummatum). The former is that condition which is itself
unconditioned, i. e. , is not subordinate to any other (originarium);
the second is that whole which is not a part of a greater whole of the
same kind (perfectissimum). It has been shown in the Analytic that
virtue (as worthiness to be happy) is the supreme condition of all
that can appear to us desirable, and consequently of all our pursuit
of happiness, and is therefore the supreme good. But it does not
follow that it is the whole and perfect good as the object of the
desires of rational finite beings; for this requires happiness also,
and that not merely in the partial eyes of the person who makes
himself an end, but even in the judgement of an impartial reason,
which regards persons in general as ends in themselves. For to need
happiness, to deserve it, and yet at the same time not to
participate in it, cannot be consistent with the perfect volition of a
rational being possessed at the same time of all power, if, for the
sake of experiment, we conceive such a being. Now inasmuch as virtue
and happiness together constitute the possession of the summum bonum
in a person, and the distribution of happiness in exact proportion
to morality (which is the worth of the person, and his worthiness to
be happy) constitutes the summum bonum of a possible world; hence this
summum bonum expresses the whole, the perfect good, in which, however,
virtue as the condition is always the supreme good, since it has no
condition above it; whereas happiness, while it is pleasant to the
possessor of it, is not of itself absolutely and in all respects good,
but always presupposes morally right behaviour as its condition.

When two elements are necessarily united in one concept, they must
be connected as reason and consequence, and this either so that
their unity is considered as analytical (logical connection), or as
synthetical (real connection) the former following the law of
identity, the latter that of causality. The connection of virtue and
happiness may therefore be understood in two ways: either the
endeavour to be virtuous and the rational pursuit of happiness are not
two distinct actions, but absolutely identical, in which case no maxim
need be made the principle of the former, other than what serves for
the latter; or the connection consists in this, that virtue produces
happiness as something distinct from the consciousness of virtue, as a
cause produces an effect.

The ancient Greek schools were, properly speaking, only two, and
in determining the conception of the summum bonum these followed in
fact one and the same method, inasmuch as they did not allow virtue
and happiness to be regarded as two distinct elements of the summum
bonum, and consequently sought the unity of the principle by the
rule of identity; but they differed as to which of the two was to be
taken as the fundamental notion. The Epicurean said: "To be
conscious that one's maxims lead to happiness is virtue"; the Stoic
said: "To be conscious of one's virtue is happiness. " With the former,
Prudence was equivalent to morality; with the latter, who chose a
higher designation for virtue, morality alone was true wisdom.

While we must admire the men who in such early times tried all
imaginable ways of extending the domain of philosophy, we must at
the same time lament that their acuteness was unfortunately misapplied
in trying to trace out identity between two extremely heterogeneous
notions, those of happiness and virtue. But it agrees with the
dialectical spirit of their times (and subtle minds are even now
sometimes misled in the same way) to get rid of irreconcilable
differences in principle by seeking to change them into a mere contest
about words, and thus apparently working out the identity of the
notion under different names, and this usually occurs in cases where
the combination of heterogeneous principles lies so deep or so high,
or would require so complete a transformation of the doctrines assumed
in the rest of the philosophical system, that men are afraid to
penetrate deeply into the real difference and prefer treating it as
a difference in questions of form.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 5}

While both schools sought to trace out the identity of the practical
principles of virtue and happiness, they were not agreed as to the way
in which they tried to force this identity, but were separated
infinitely from one another, the one placing its principle on the side
of sense, the other on that of reason; the one in the consciousness of
sensible wants, the other in the independence of practical reason on
all sensible grounds of determination. According to the Epicurean, the
notion of virtue was already involved in the maxim: "To promote
one's own happiness"; according to the Stoics, on the other hand,
the feeling of happiness was already contained in the consciousness of
virtue. Now whatever is contained in another notion is identical
with part of the containing notion, but not with the whole, and
moreover two wholes may be specifically distinct, although they
consist of the same parts; namely if the parts are united into a whole
in totally different ways. The Stoic maintained that the virtue was
the whole summum bonum, and happiness only the consciousness of
possessing it, as making part of the state of the subject. The
Epicurean maintained that happiness was the whole summum bonum, and
virtue only the form of the maxim for its pursuit; viz. , the
rational use of the means for attaining it.

Now it is clear from the Analytic that the maxims of virtue and
those of private happiness are quite heterogeneous as to their supreme
practical principle, and, although they belong to one summum bonum
which together they make possible, yet they are so far from coinciding
that they restrict and check one another very much in the same
subject. Thus the question: "How is the summum bonum practically
possible? " still remains an unsolved problem, notwithstanding all
the attempts at coalition that have hitherto been made. The Analytic
has, however, shown what it is that makes the problem difficult to
solve; namely, that happiness and morality are two specifically
distinct elements of the summum bonum and, therefore, their
combination cannot be analytically cognised (as if the man that
seeks his own happiness should find by mere analysis of his conception
that in so acting he is virtuous, or as if the man that follows virtue
should in the consciousness of such conduct find that he is already
happy ipso facto), but must be a synthesis of concepts. Now since this
combination is recognised as a priori, and therefore as practically
necessary, and consequently not as derived from experience, so that
the possibility of the summum bonum does not rest on any empirical
principle, it follows that the deduction [legitimation] of this
concept must be transcendental. It is a priori (morally) necessary
to produce the summum bonum by freedom of will: therefore the
condition of its possibility must rest solely on a priori principles
of cognition.



I. The Antinomy of Practical Reason.



{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 10}

In the summum bonum which is practical for us, i. e. , to be
realized by our will, virtue and happiness are thought as
necessarily combined, so that the one cannot be assumed by pure
practical reason without the other also being attached to it. Now this
combination (like every other) is either analytical or synthetical. It
has been shown that it cannot be analytical; it must then be
synthetical and, more particularly, must be conceived as the
connection of cause and effect, since it concerns a practical good,
i. e. , one that is possible by means of action; consequently either the
desire of happiness must be the motive to maxims of virtue, or the
maxim of virtue must be the efficient cause of happiness. The first is
absolutely impossible, because (as was proved in the Analytic)
maxims which place the determining principle of the will in the desire
of personal happiness are not moral at all, and no virtue can be
founded on them. But the second is also impossible, because the
practical connection of causes and effects in the world, as the result
of the determination of the will, does not depend upon the moral
dispositions of the will, but on the knowledge of the laws of nature
and the physical power to use them for one's purposes; consequently we
cannot expect in the world by the most punctilious observance of the
moral laws any necessary connection of happiness with virtue
adequate to the summum bonum. Now, as the promotion of this summum
bonum, the conception of which contains this connection, is a priori a
necessary object of our will and inseparably attached to the moral
law, the impossibility of the former must prove the falsity of the
latter. If then the supreme good is not possible by practical rules,
then the moral law also which commands us to promote it is directed to
vain imaginary ends and must consequently be false.



II. Critical Solution of the Antinomy of Practical Reason.



The antinomy of pure speculative reason exhibits a similar
conflict between freedom and physical necessity in the causality of
events in the world. It was solved by showing that there is no real
contradiction when the events and even the world in which they occur
are regarded (as they ought to be) merely as appearances; since one
and the same acting being, as an appearance (even to his own inner
sense), has a causality in the world of sense that always conforms
to the mechanism of nature, but with respect to the same events, so
far as the acting person regards himself at the same time as a
noumenon (as pure intelligence in an existence not dependent on the
condition of time), he can contain a principle by which that causality
acting according to laws of nature is determined, but which is
itself free from all laws of nature.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 15}

It is just the same with the foregoing antinomy of pure practical
reason. The first of the two propositions, "That the endeavour after
happiness produces a virtuous mind," is absolutely false; but the
second, "That a virtuous mind necessarily produces happiness," is
not absolutely false, but only in so far as virtue is considered as
a form of causality in the sensible world, and consequently only if
I suppose existence in it to be the only sort of existence of a
rational being; it is then only conditionally false. But as I am not
only justified in thinking that I exist also as a noumenon in a
world of the understanding, but even have in the moral law a purely
intellectual determining principle of my causality (in the sensible
world), it is not impossible that morality of mind should have a
connection as cause with happiness (as an effect in the sensible
world) if not immediate yet mediate (viz. , through an intelligent
author of nature), and moreover necessary; while in a system of nature
which is merely an object of the senses, this combination could
never occur except contingently and, therefore, could not suffice
for the summum bonum.

Thus, notwithstanding this seeming conflict of practical reason with
itself, the summum bonum, which is the necessary supreme end of a will
morally determined, is a true object thereof; for it is practically
possible, and the maxims of the will which as regards their matter
refer to it have objective reality, which at first was threatened by
the antinomy that appeared in the connection of morality with
happiness by a general law; but this was merely from a
misconception, because the relation between appearances was taken
for a relation of the things in themselves to these appearances.

When we find ourselves obliged to go so far, namely, to the
connection with an intelligible world, to find the possibility of
the summum bonum, which reason points out to all rational beings as
the goal of all their moral wishes, it must seem strange that,
nevertheless, the philosophers both of ancient and modern times have
been able to find happiness in accurate proportion to virtue even in
this life (in the sensible world), or have persuaded themselves that
they were conscious thereof. For Epicurus as well as the Stoics
extolled above everything the happiness that springs from the
consciousness of living virtuously; and the former was not so base
in his practical precepts as one might infer from the principles of
his theory, which he used for explanation and not for action, or as
they were interpreted by many who were misled by his using the term
pleasure for contentment; on the contrary, he reckoned the most
disinterested practice of good amongst the ways of enjoying the most
intimate delight, and his scheme of pleasure (by which he meant
constant cheerfulness of mind) included the moderation and control
of the inclinations, such as the strictest moral philosopher might
require. He differed from the Stoics chiefly in making this pleasure
the motive, which they very rightly refused to do. For, on the one
hand, the virtuous Epicurus, like many well-intentioned men of this
day who do not reflect deeply enough on their principles, fell into
the error of presupposing the virtuous disposition in the persons
for whom he wished to provide the springs to virtue (and indeed the
upright man cannot be happy if he is not first conscious of his
uprightness; since with such a character the reproach that his habit
of thought would oblige him to make against himself in case of
transgression and his moral self-condemnation would rob him of all
enjoyment of the pleasantness which his condition might otherwise
contain). But the question is: How is such a disposition possible in
the first instance, and such a habit of thought in estimating the
worth of one's existence, since prior to it there can be in the
subject no feeling at all for moral worth? If a man is virtuous
without being conscious of his integrity in every action, he will
certainly not enjoy life, however favourable fortune may be to him
in its physical circumstances; but can we make him virtuous in the
first instance, in other words, before he esteems the moral worth of
his existence so highly, by praising to him the peace of mind that
would result from the consciousness of an integrity for which he has
no sense?

On the other hand, however, there is here an occasion of a vitium
subreptionis, and as it were of an optical illusion, in the
self-consciousness of what one does as distinguished from what one
feels- an illusion which even the most experienced cannot altogether
avoid. The moral disposition of mind is necessarily combined with a
consciousness that the will is determined directly by the law. Now the
consciousness of a determination of the faculty of desire is always
the source of a satisfaction in the resulting action; but this
pleasure, this satisfaction in oneself, is not the determining
principle of the action; on the contrary, the determination of the
will directly by reason is the source of the feeling of pleasure,
and this remains a pure practical not sensible determination of the
faculty of desire. Now as this determination has exactly the same
effect within in impelling to activity, that a feeling of the pleasure
to be expected from the desired action would have had, we easily
look on what we ourselves do as something which we merely passively
feel, and take the moral spring for a sensible impulse, just as it
happens in the so-called illusion of the senses (in this case the
inner sense). It is a sublime thing in human nature to be determined
to actions immediately by a purely rational law; sublime even is the
illusion that regards the subjective side of this capacity of
intellectual determination as something sensible and the effect of a
special sensible feeling (for an intellectual feeling would be a
contradiction). It is also of great importance to attend to this
property of our personality and as much as possible to cultivate the
effect of reason on this feeling. But we must beware lest by falsely
extolling this moral determining principle as a spring, making its
source lie in particular feelings of pleasure (which are in fact
only results), we degrade and disfigure the true genuine spring, the
law itself, by putting as it were a false foil upon it. Respect, not
pleasure or enjoyment of happiness, is something for which it is not
possible that reason should have any antecedent feeling as its
foundation (for this would always be sensible and pathological); and
consciousness of immediate obligation of the will by the law is by
no means analogous to the feeling of pleasure, although in relation to
the faculty of desire it produces the same effect, but from
different sources: it is only by this mode of conception, however,
that we can attain what we are seeking, namely, that actions be done
not merely in accordance with duty (as a result of pleasant feelings),
but from duty, which must be the true end of all moral cultivation.

Have we not, however, a word which does not express enjoyment, as
happiness does, but indicates a satisfaction in one's existence, an
analogue of the happiness which must necessarily accompany the
consciousness of virtue? Yes this word is self-contentment which in
its proper signification always designates only a negative
satisfaction in one's existence, in which one is conscious of
needing nothing. Freedom and the consciousness of it as a faculty of
following the moral law with unyielding resolution is independence
of inclinations, at least as motives determining (though not as
affecting) our desire, and so far as I am conscious of this freedom in
following my moral maxims, it is the only source of an unaltered
contentment which is necessarily connected with it and rests on no
special feeling. This may be called intellectual contentment. The
sensible contentment (improperly so-called) which rests on the
satisfaction of the inclinations, however delicate they may be
imagined to be, can never be adequate to the conception of it. For the
inclinations change, they grow with the indulgence shown them, and
always leave behind a still greater void than we had thought to
fill. Hence they are always burdensome to a rational being, and,
although he cannot lay them aside, they wrest from him the wish to
be rid of them. Even an inclination to what is right (e. g. , to
beneficence), though it may much facilitate the efficacy of the
moral maxims, cannot produce any. For in these all must be directed to
the conception of the law as a determining principle, if the action is
to contain morality and not merely legality. Inclination is blind
and slavish, whether it be of a good sort or not, and, when morality
is in question, reason must not play the part merely of guardian to
inclination, but disregarding it altogether must attend simply to
its own interest as pure practical reason. This very feeling of
compassion and tender sympathy, if it precedes the deliberation on the
question of duty and becomes a determining principle, is even annoying
to right thinking persons, brings their deliberate maxims into
confusion, and makes them wish to be delivered from it and to be
subject to lawgiving reason alone.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 20}

From this we can understand how the consciousness of this faculty of
a pure practical reason produces by action (virtue) a consciousness of
mastery over one's inclinations, and therefore of independence of
them, and consequently also of the discontent that always
accompanies them, and thus a negative satisfaction with one's state,
i. e. , contentment, which is primarily contentment with one's own
person. Freedom itself becomes in this way (namely, indirectly)
capable of an enjoyment which cannot be called happiness, because it
does not depend on the positive concurrence of a feeling, nor is it,
strictly speaking, bliss, since it does not include complete
independence of inclinations and wants, but it resembles bliss in so
far as the determination of one's will at least can hold itself free
from their influence; and thus, at least in its origin, this enjoyment
is analogous to the self-sufficiency which we can ascribe only to
the Supreme Being.

From this solution of the antinomy of practical pure reason, it
follows that in practical principles we may at least conceive as
possible a natural and necessary connection between the
consciousness of morality and the expectation of a proportionate
happiness as its result, though it does not follow that we can know or
perceive this connection; that, on the other hand, principles of the
pursuit of happiness cannot possibly produce morality; that,
therefore, morality is the supreme good (as the first condition of the
summum bonum), while happiness constitutes its second element, but
only in such a way that it is the morally conditioned, but necessary
consequence of the former. Only with this subordination is the
summum bonum the whole object of pure practical reason, which must
necessarily conceive it as possible, since it commands us to
contribute to the utmost of our power to its realization. But since
the possibility of such connection of the conditioned with its
condition belongs wholly to the supersensual relation of things and
cannot be given according to the laws of the world of sense,
although the practical consequences of the idea belong to the world of
sense, namely, the actions that aim at realizing the summum bonum;
we will therefore endeavour to set forth the grounds of that
possibility, first, in respect of what is immediately in our power,
and then, secondly, in that which is not in our power, but which
reason presents to us as the supplement of our impotence, for the
realization of the summum bonum (which by practical principles is
necessary).



III. Of the Primacy of Pure Practical Reason in its

Union with the Speculative Reason.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 25}



By primacy between two or more things connected by reason, I
understand the prerogative, belonging to one, of being the first
determining principle in the connection with all the rest. In a
narrower practical sense it means the prerogative of the interest of
one in so far as the interest of the other is subordinated to it,
while it is not postponed to any other. To every faculty of the mind
we can attribute an interest, that is, a principle, that contains
the condition on which alone the former is called into exercise.
Reason, as the faculty of principles, determines the interest of all
the powers of the mind and is determined by its own. The interest of
its speculative employment consists in the cognition of the object
pushed to the highest a priori principles: that of its practical
employment, in the determination of the will in respect of the final
and complete end. As to what is necessary for the possibility of any
employment of reason at all, namely, that its principles and
affirmations should not contradict one another, this constitutes no
part of its interest, but is the condition of having reason at all; it
is only its development, not mere consistency with itself, that is
reckoned as its interest.

If practical reason could not assume or think as given anything
further than what speculative reason of itself could offer it from its
own insight, the latter would have the primacy. But supposing that
it had of itself original a priori principles with which certain
theoretical positions were inseparably connected, while these were
withdrawn from any possible insight of speculative reason (which,
however, they must not contradict); then the question is: Which
interest is the superior (not which must give way, for they are not
necessarily conflicting), whether speculative reason, which knows
nothing of all that the practical offers for its acceptance, should
take up these propositions and (although they transcend it) try to
unite them with its own concepts as a foreign possession handed over
to it, or whether it is justified in obstinately following its own
separate interest and, according to the canonic of Epicurus, rejecting
as vain subtlety everything that cannot accredit its objective reality
by manifest examples to be shown in experience, even though it
should be never so much interwoven with the interest of the
practical (pure) use of reason, and in itself not contradictory to the
theoretical, merely because it infringes on the interest of the
speculative reason to this extent, that it removes the bounds which
this latter had set to itself, and gives it up to every nonsense or
delusion of imagination?

In fact, so far as practical reason is taken as dependent on
pathological conditions, that is, as merely regulating the
inclinations under the sensible principle of happiness, we could not
require speculative reason to take its principles from such a
source. Mohammed's paradise, or the absorption into the Deity of the
theosophists and mystics would press their monstrosities on the reason
according to the taste of each, and one might as well have no reason
as surrender it in such fashion to all sorts of dreams. But if pure
reason of itself can be practical and is actually so, as the
consciousness of the moral law proves, then it is still only one and
the same reason which, whether in a theoretical or a practical point
of view, judges according to a priori principles; and then it is clear
that although it is in the first point of view incompetent to
establish certain propositions positively, which, however, do not
contradict it, then, as soon as these propositions are inseparably
attached to the practical interest of pure reason, it must accept
them, though it be as something offered to it from a foreign source,
something that has not grown on its own ground, but yet is
sufficiently authenticated; and it must try to compare and connect
them with everything that it has in its power as speculative reason.
It must remember, however, that these are not additions to its
insight, but yet are extensions of its employment in another,
namely, a practical aspect; and this is not in the least opposed to
its interest, which consists in the restriction of wild speculation.

Thus, when pure speculative and pure practical reason are combined
in one cognition, the latter has the primacy, provided, namely, that
this combination is not contingent and arbitrary, but founded a priori
on reason itself and therefore necessary. For without this
subordination there would arise a conflict of reason with itself;
since, if they were merely co-ordinate, the former would close its
boundaries strictly and admit nothing from the latter into its domain,
while the latter would extend its bounds over everything and when
its needs required would seek to embrace the former within them. Nor
could we reverse the order and require pure practical reason to be
subordinate to the speculative, since all interest is ultimately
practical, and even that of speculative reason is conditional, and
it is only in the practical employment of reason that it is complete.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 30}



IV. The Immortality of the Soul as a Postulate of

Pure Practical Reason.



The realization of the summum bonum in the world is the necessary
object of a will determinable by the moral law. But in this will the
perfect accordance of the mind with the moral law is the supreme
condition of the summum bonum. This then must be possible, as well
as its object, since it is contained in the command to promote the
latter. Now, the perfect accordance of the will with the moral law
is holiness, a perfection of which no rational being of the sensible
world is capable at any moment of his existence. Since,
nevertheless, it is required as practically necessary, it can only
be found in a progress in infinitum towards that perfect accordance,
and on the principles of pure practical reason it is necessary to
assume such a practical progress as the real object of our will.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 35}

Now, this endless progress is only possible on the supposition of an
endless duration of the existence and personality of the same rational
being (which is called the immortality of the soul). The summum bonum,
then, practically is only possible on the supposition of the
immortality of the soul; consequently this immortality, being
inseparably connected with the moral law, is a postulate of pure
practical reason (by which I mean a theoretical proposition, not
demonstrable as such, but which is an inseparable result of an
unconditional a priori practical law.

This principle of the moral destination of our nature, namely,
that it is only in an endless progress that we can attain perfect
accordance with the moral law, is of the greatest use, not merely
for the present purpose of supplementing the impotence of
speculative reason, but also with respect to religion. In default of
it, either the moral law is quite degraded from its holiness, being
made out to be indulgent and conformable to our convenience, or else
men strain their notions of their vocation and their expectation to an
unattainable goal, hoping to acquire complete holiness of will, and so
they lose themselves in fanatical theosophic dreams, which wholly
contradict self-knowledge. In both cases the unceasing effort to
obey punctually and thoroughly a strict and inflexible command of
reason, which yet is not ideal but real, is only hindered. For a
rational but finite being, the only thing possible is an endless
progress from the lower to higher degrees of moral perfection. The
Infinite Being, to whom the condition of time is nothing, sees in this
to us endless succession a whole of accordance with the moral law; and
the holiness which his command inexorably requires, in order to be
true to his justice in the share which He assigns to each in the
summum bonum, is to be found in a single intellectual intuition of the
whole existence of rational beings. All that can be expected of the
creature in respect of the hope of this participation would be the
consciousness of his tried character, by which from the progress he
has hitherto made from the worse to the morally better, and the
immutability of purpose which has thus become known to him, he may
hope for a further unbroken continuance of the same, however long
his existence may last, even beyond this life, * and thus he may
hope, not indeed here, nor in any imaginable point of his future
existence, but only in the endlessness of his duration (which God
alone can survey) to be perfectly adequate to his will (without
indulgence or excuse, which do not harmonize with justice).



* It seems, nevertheless, impossible for a creature to have the
conviction of his unwavering firmness of mind in the progress
towards goodness. On this account the Christian religion makes it come
only from the same Spirit that works sanctification, that is, this
firm purpose, and with it the consciousness of steadfastness in the
moral progress. But naturally one who is conscious that he has
persevered through a long portion of his life up to the end in the
progress to the better, and this genuine moral motives, may well
have the comforting hope, though not the certainty, that even in an
existence prolonged beyond this life he will continue in these
principles; and although he is never justified here in his own eyes,
nor can ever hope to be so in the increased perfection of his
nature, to which he looks forward, together with an increase of
duties, nevertheless in this progress which, though it is directed
to a goal infinitely remote, yet is in God's sight regarded as
equivalent to possession, he may have a prospect of a blessed
future; for this is the word that reason employs to designate
perfect well-being independent of all contingent causes of the
world, and which, like holiness, is an idea that can be contained only
in an endless progress and its totality, and consequently is never
fully attained by a creature.



{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 40}

V. The Existence of God as a Postulate of Pure Practical Reason.



In the foregoing analysis the moral law led to a practical problem
which is prescribed by pure reason alone, without the aid of any
sensible motives, namely, that of the necessary completeness of the
first and principle element of the summum bonum, viz. , morality;
and, as this can be perfectly solved only in eternity, to the
postulate of immortality. The same law must also lead us to affirm the
possibility of the second element of the summum bonum, viz. , happiness
proportioned to that morality, and this on grounds as disinterested as
before, and solely from impartial reason; that is, it must lead to the
supposition of the existence of a cause adequate to this effect; in
other words, it must postulate the existence of God, as the
necessary condition of the possibility of the summum bonum (an
object of the will which is necessarily connected with the moral
legislation of pure reason). We proceed to exhibit this connection
in a convincing manner.

Happiness is the condition of a rational being in the world with
whom everything goes according to his wish and will; it rests,
therefore, on the harmony of physical nature with his whole end and
likewise with the essential determining principle of his will. Now the
moral law as a law of freedom commands by determining principles,
which ought to be quite independent of nature and of its harmony
with our faculty of desire (as springs). But the acting rational being
in the world is not the cause of the world and of nature itself. There
is not the least ground, therefore, in the moral law for a necessary
connection between morality and proportionate happiness in a being
that belongs to the world as part of it, and therefore dependent on
it, and which for that reason cannot by his will be a cause of this
nature, nor by his own power make it thoroughly harmonize, as far as
his happiness is concerned, with his practical principles.
Nevertheless, in the practical problem of pure reason, i. e. , the
necessary pursuit of the summum bonum, such a connection is postulated
as necessary: we ought to endeavour to promote the summum bonum,
which, therefore, must be possible. Accordingly, the existence of a
cause of all nature, distinct from nature itself and containing the
principle of this connection, namely, of the exact harmony of
happiness with morality, is also postulated. Now this supreme cause
must contain the principle of the harmony of nature, not merely with a
law of the will of rational beings, but with the conception of this
law, in so far as they make it the supreme determining principle of
the will, and consequently not merely with the form of morals, but
with their morality as their motive, that is, with their moral
character. Therefore, the summum bonum is possible in the world only
on the supposition of a Supreme Being having a causality corresponding
to moral character. Now a being that is capable of acting on the
conception of laws is an intelligence (a rational being), and the
causality of such a being according to this conception of laws is
his will; therefore the supreme cause of nature, which must be
presupposed as a condition of the summum bonum is a being which is the
cause of nature by intelligence and will, consequently its author,
that is God. It follows that the postulate of the possibility of the
highest derived good (the best world) is likewise the postulate of the
reality of a highest original good, that is to say, of the existence
of God. Now it was seen to be a duty for us to promote the summum
bonum; consequently it is not merely allowable, but it is a
necessity connected with duty as a requisite, that we should
presuppose the possibility of this summum bonum; and as this is
possible only on condition of the existence of God, it inseparably
connects the supposition of this with duty; that is, it is morally
necessary to assume the existence of God.

It must be remarked here that this moral necessity is subjective,
that is, it is a want, and not objective, that is, itself a duty,
for there cannot be a duty to suppose the existence of anything (since
this concerns only the theoretical employment of reason). Moreover, it
is not meant by this that it is necessary to suppose the existence
of God as a basis of all obligation in general (for this rests, as has
been sufficiently proved, simply on the autonomy of reason itself).
What belongs to duty here is only the endeavour to realize and promote
the summum bonum in the world, the possibility of which can
therefore be postulated; and as our reason finds it not conceivable
except on the supposition of a supreme intelligence, the admission
of this existence is therefore connected with the consciousness of our
duty, although the admission itself belongs to the domain of
speculative reason. Considered in respect of this alone, as a
principle of explanation, it may be called a hypothesis, but in
reference to the intelligibility of an object given us by the moral
law (the summum bonum), and consequently of a requirement for
practical purposes, it may be called faith, that is to say a pure
rational faith, since pure reason (both in its theoretical and
practical use) is the sole source from which it springs.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 45}

From this deduction it is now intelligible why the Greek schools
could never attain the solution of their problem of the practical
possibility of the summum bonum, because they made the rule of the use
which the will of man makes of his freedom the sole and sufficient
ground of this possibility, thinking that they had no need for that
purpose of the existence of God. No doubt they were so far right
that they established the principle of morals of itself
independently of this postulate, from the relation of reason only to
the will, and consequently made it the supreme practical condition
of the summum bonum; but it was not therefore the whole condition of
its possibility. The Epicureans had indeed assumed as the supreme
principle of morality a wholly false one, namely that of happiness,
and had substituted for a law a maxim of arbitrary choice according to
every man's inclination; they proceeded, however, consistently
enough in this, that they degraded their summum bonum likewise, just
in proportion to the meanness of their fundamental principle, and
looked for no greater happiness than can be attained by human prudence
(including temperance and moderation of the inclinations), and this as
we know would be scanty enough and would be very different according
to circumstances; not to mention the exceptions that their maxims must
perpetually admit and which make them incapable of being laws. The
Stoics, on the contrary, had chosen their supreme practical
principle quite rightly, making virtue the condition of the summum
bonum; but when they represented the degree of virtue required by
its pure law as fully attainable in this life, they not only
strained the moral powers of the man whom they called the wise
beyond all the limits of his nature, and assumed a thing that
contradicts all our knowledge of men, but also and principally they
would not allow the second element of the summum bonum, namely,
happiness, to be properly a special object of human desire, but made
their wise man, like a divinity in his consciousness of the excellence
of his person, wholly independent of nature (as regards his own
contentment); they exposed him indeed to the evils of life, but made
him not subject to them (at the same time representing him also as
free from moral evil). They thus, in fact, left out the second element
of the summum bonum namely, personal happiness, placing it solely in
action and satisfaction with one's own personal worth, thus
including it in the consciousness of being morally minded, in which
they Might have been sufficiently refuted by the voice of their own
nature.

The doctrine of Christianity, * even if we do not yet consider it
as a religious doctrine, gives, touching this point, a conception of
the summum bonum (the kingdom of God), which alone satisfies the
strictest demand of practical reason. The moral law is holy
(unyielding) and demands holiness of morals, although all the moral
perfection to which man can attain is still only virtue, that is, a
rightful disposition arising from respect for the law, implying
consciousness of a constant propensity to transgression, or at least a
want of purity, that is, a mixture of many spurious (not moral)
motives of obedience to the law, consequently a self-esteem combined
with humility. In respect, then, of the holiness which the Christian
law requires, this leaves the creature nothing but a progress in
infinitum, but for that very reason it justifies him in hoping for
an endless duration of his existence. The worth of a character
perfectly accordant with the moral law is infinite, since the only
restriction on all possible happiness in the judgement of a wise and
all powerful distributor of it is the absence of conformity of
rational beings to their duty. But the moral law of itself does not
promise any happiness, for according to our conceptions of an order of
nature in general, this is not necessarily connected with obedience to
the law. Now Christian morality supplies this defect (of the second
indispensable element of the summum bonum) by representing the world
in which rational beings devote themselves with all their soul to
the moral law, as a kingdom of God, in which nature and morality are
brought into a harmony foreign to each of itself, by a holy Author who
makes the derived summum bonum possible. Holiness of life is
prescribed to them as a rule even in this life, while the welfare
proportioned to it, namely, bliss, is represented as attainable only
in an eternity; because the former must always be the pattern of their
conduct in every state, and progress towards it is already possible
and necessary in this life; while the latter, under the name of
happiness, cannot be attained at all in this world (so far as our
own power is concerned), and therefore is made simply an object of
hope. Nevertheless, the Christian principle of morality itself is
not theological (so as to be heteronomy), but is autonomy of pure
practical reason, since it does not make the knowledge of God and
His will the foundation of these laws, but only of the attainment of
the summum bonum, on condition of following these laws, and it does
not even place the proper spring of this obedience in the desired
results, but solely in the conception of duty, as that of which the
faithful observance alone constitutes the worthiness to obtain those
happy consequences.



* It is commonly held that the Christian precept of morality has no
advantage in respect of purity over the moral conceptions of the
Stoics; the distinction between them is, however, very obvious. The
Stoic system made the consciousness of strength of mind the pivot on
which all moral dispositions should turn; and although its disciples
spoke of duties and even defined them very well, yet they placed the
spring and proper determining principle of the will in an elevation of
the mind above the lower springs of the senses, which owe their
power only to weakness of mind. With them therefore, virtue was a sort
of heroism in the wise man raising himself above the animal nature
of man, is sufficient for Himself, and, while he prescribes duties
to others, is himself raised above them, and is not subject to any
temptation to transgress the moral law. All this, however, they
could not have done if they had conceived this law in all its purity
and strictness, as the precept of the Gospel does. When I give the
name idea to a perfection to which nothing adequate can be given in
experience, it does not follow that the moral ideas are thing
transcendent, that is something of which we could not even determine
the concept adequately, or of which it is uncertain whether there is
any object corresponding to it at all, as is the case with the ideas
of speculative reason; on the contrary, being types of practical
perfection, they serve as the indispensable rule of conduct and
likewise as the standard of comparison. Now if I consider Christian
morals on their philosophical side, then compared with the ideas of
the Greek schools, they would appear as follows: the ideas of the
Cynics, the Epicureans, the Stoics, and the Christians are: simplicity
of nature, prudence, wisdom, and holiness. In respect of the way of
attaining them, the Greek schools were distinguished from one
another thus that the Cynics only required common sense, the others
the path of science, but both found the mere use of natural powers
sufficient for the purpose. Christian morality, because its precept is
framed (as a moral precept must be) so pure and unyielding, takes from
man all confidence that he can be fully adequate to it, at least in
this life, but again sets it up by enabling us to hope that if we
act as well as it is in our power to do, then what is not in our power
will come in to our aid from another source, whether we know how
this may be or not. Aristotle and Plato differed only as to the origin
of our moral conceptions.



{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 50}

In this manner, the moral laws lead through the conception of the
summum bonum as the object and final end of pure practical reason to
religion, that is, to the recognition of all duties as divine
commands, not as sanctions, that is to say, arbitrary ordinances of
a foreign and contingent in themselves, but as essential laws of every
free will in itself, which, nevertheless, must be regarded as commands
of the Supreme Being, because it is only from a morally perfect
(holy and good) and at the same time all-powerful will, and
consequently only through harmony with this will, that we can hope
to attain the summum bonum which the moral law makes it our duty to
take as the object of our endeavours. Here again, then, all remains
disinterested and founded merely on duty; neither fear nor hope
being made the fundamental springs, which if taken as principles would
destroy the whole moral worth of actions. The moral law commands me to
make the highest possible good in a world the ultimate object of all
my conduct. But I cannot hope to effect this otherwise than by the
harmony of my will with that of a holy and good Author of the world;
and although the conception of the summum bonum as a whole, in which
the greatest happiness is conceived as combined in the most exact
proportion with the highest degree of moral perfection (possible in
creatures), includes my own happiness, yet it is not this that is
the determining principle of the will which is enjoined to promote the
summum bonum, but the moral law, which, on the contrary, limits by
strict conditions my unbounded desire of happiness.

Hence also morality is not properly the doctrine how we should
make ourselves happy, but how we should become worthy of happiness. It
is only when religion is added that there also comes in the hope of
participating some day in happiness in proportion as we have
endeavoured to be not unworthy of it.

A man is worthy to possess a thing or a state when his possession of
it is in harmony with the summum bonum. We can now easily see that all
worthiness depends on moral conduct, since in the conception of the
summum bonum this constitutes the condition of the rest (which belongs
to one's state), namely, the participation of happiness. Now it
follows from this that morality should never be treated as a
doctrine of happiness, that is, an instruction how to become happy;
for it has to do simply with the rational condition (conditio sine qua
non) of happiness, not with the means of attaining it. But when
morality has been completely expounded (which merely imposes duties
instead of providing rules for selfish desires), then first, after the
moral desire to promote the summum bonum (to bring the kingdom of
God to us) has been awakened, a desire founded on a law, and which
could not previously arise in any selfish mind, and when for the
behoof of this desire the step to religion has been taken, then this
ethical doctrine may be also called a doctrine of happiness because
the hope of happiness first begins with religion only.

We can also see from this that, when we ask what is God's ultimate
end in creating the world, we must not name the happiness of the
rational beings in it, but the summum bonum, which adds a further
condition to that wish of such beings, namely, the condition of
being worthy of happiness, that is, the morality of these same
rational beings, a condition which alone contains the rule by which
only they can hope to share in the former at the hand of a wise
Author. For as wisdom, theoretically considered, signifies the
knowledge of the summum bonum and, practically, the accordance of
the will with the summum bonum, we cannot attribute to a supreme
independent wisdom an end based merely on goodness. For we cannot
conceive the action of this goodness (in respect of the happiness of
rational beings) as suitable to the highest original good, except
under the restrictive conditions of harmony with the holiness * of
his will. Therefore, those who placed the end of creation in the glory
of God (provided that this is not conceived anthropomorphically as a
desire to be praised) have perhaps hit upon the best expression. For
nothing glorifies God more than that which is the most estimable thing
in the world, respect for his command, the observance of the holy duty
that his law imposes on us, when there is added thereto his glorious
plan of crowning such a beautiful order of things with corresponding
happiness. If the latter (to speak humanly) makes Him worthy of
love, by the former He is an object of adoration. Even men can never
acquire respect by benevolence alone, though they may gain love, so
that the greatest beneficence only procures them honour when it is
regulated by worthiness.



{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 55}

* In order to make these characteristics of these conceptions
clear, I add the remark that whilst we ascribe to God various
attributes, the quality of which we also find applicable to creatures,
only that in Him they are raised to the highest degree, e. g. , power,
knowledge, presence, goodness, etc. , under the designations of
omnipotence, omniscience, omnipresence, etc. , there are three that are
ascribed to God exclusively, and yet without the addition of
greatness, and which are all moral He is the only holy, the only
blessed, the only wise, because these conceptions already imply the
absence of limitation. In the order of these attributes He is also the
holy lawgiver (and creator), the good governor (and preserver) and the
just judge, three attributes which include everything by which God
is the object of religion, and in conformity with which the
metaphysical perfections are added of themselves in the reason.



That in the order of ends, man (and with him every rational being)
is an end in himself, that is, that he can never be used merely as a
means by any (not even by God) without being at the same time an end
also himself, that therefore humanity in our person must be holy to
ourselves, this follows now of itself because he is the subject of the
moral law, in other words, of that which is holy in itself, and on
account of which and in agreement with which alone can anything be
termed holy. For this moral law is founded on the autonomy of his
will, as a free will which by its universal laws must necessarily be
able to agree with that to which it is to submit itself.



VI. Of the Postulates of Pure Practical Reason Generally.
{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 60}



They all proceed from the principle of morality, which is not a
postulate but a law, by which reason determines the will directly,
which will, because it is so determined as a pure will, requires these
necessary conditions of obedience to its precept. These postulates are
not theoretical dogmas but, suppositions practically necessary;
while then they do [not] extend our speculative knowledge, they give
objective reality to the ideas of speculative reason in general (by
means of their reference to what is practical), and give it a right to
concepts, the possibility even of which it could not otherwise venture
to affirm.

These postulates are those of immortality, freedom positively
considered (as the causality of a being so far as he belongs to the
intelligible world), and the existence of God. The first results
from the practically necessary condition of a duration adequate to the
complete fulfilment of the moral law; the second from the necessary
supposition of independence of the sensible world, and of the
faculty of determining one's will according to the law of an
intelligible world, that is, of freedom; the third from the
necessary condition of the existence of the summum bonum in such an
intelligible world, by the supposition of the supreme independent
good, that is, the existence of God.

Thus the fact that respect for the moral law necessarily makes the
summum bonum an object of our endeavours, and the supposition thence
resulting of its objective reality, lead through the postulates of
practical reason to conceptions which speculative reason might
indeed present as problems, but could never solve. Thus it leads: 1.
To that one in the solution of which the latter could do nothing but
commit paralogisms (namely, that of immortality), because it could not
lay hold of the character of permanence, by which to complete the
psychological conception of an ultimate subject necessarily ascribed
to the soul in self-consciousness, so as to make it the real
conception of a substance, a character which practical reason
furnishes by the postulate of a duration required for accordance
with the moral law in the summum bonum, which is the whole end of
practical reason. 2. It leads to that of which speculative reason
contained nothing but antinomy, the solution of which it could only
found on a notion problematically conceivable indeed, but whose
objective reality it could not prove or determine, namely, the
cosmological idea of an intelligible world and the consciousness of
our existence in it, by means of the postulate of freedom (the reality
of which it lays down by virtue of the moral law), and with it
likewise the law of an intelligible world, to which speculative reason
could only point, but could not define its conception. 3. What
speculative reason was able to think, but was obliged to leave
undetermined as a mere transcendental ideal, viz. , the theological
conception of the first Being, to this it gives significance (in a
practical view, that is, as a condition of the possibility of the
object of a will determined by that law), namely, as the supreme
principle of the summum bonum in an intelligible world, by means of
moral legislation in it invested with sovereign power.

Is our knowledge, however, actually extended in this way by pure
practical reason, and is that immanent in practical reason which for
the speculative was only transcendent? Certainly, but only in a
practical point of view. For we do not thereby take knowledge of the
nature of our souls, nor of the intelligible world, nor of the Supreme
Being, with respect to what they are in themselves, but we have merely
combined the conceptions of them in the practical concept of the
summum bonum as the object of our will, and this altogether a
priori, but only by means of the moral law, and merely in reference to
it, in respect of the object which it commands. But how freedom is
possible, and how we are to conceive this kind of causality
theoretically and positively, is not thereby discovered; but only that
there is such a causality is postulated by the moral law and in its
behoof. It is the same with the remaining ideas, the possibility of
which no human intelligence will ever fathom, but the truth of
which, on the other hand, no sophistry will ever wrest from the
conviction even of the commonest man.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 65}



VII. How is it possible to conceive an Extension of Pure

Reason in a Practical point of view, without its

Knowledge as Speculative being enlarged at

the same time?

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 70}



In order not to be too abstract, we will answer this question at
once in its application to the present case. In order to extend a pure
cognition practically, there must be an a priori purpose given, that
is, an end as object (of the will), which independently of all
theological principle is presented as practically necessary by an
imperative which determines the will directly (a categorical
imperative), and in this case that is the summum bonum. This, however,
is not possible without presupposing three theoretical conceptions
(for which, because they are mere conceptions of pure reason, no
corresponding intuition can be found, nor consequently by the path
of theory any objective reality); namely, freedom, immortality, and
God. Thus by the practical law which commands the existence of the
highest good possible in a world, the possibility of those objects
of pure speculative reason is postulated, and the objective reality
which the latter could not assure them. By this the theoretical
knowledge of pure reason does indeed obtain an accession; but it
consists only in this, that those concepts which otherwise it had to
look upon as problematical (merely thinkable) concepts, are now
shown assertorially to be such as actually have objects; because
practical reason indispensably requires their existence for the
possibility of its object, the summum bonum, which practically is
absolutely necessary, and this justifies theoretical reason in
assuming them. But this extension of theoretical reason is no
extension of speculative, that is, we cannot make any positive use
of it in a theoretical point of view. For as nothing is accomplished
in this by practical reason, further than that these concepts are real
and actually have their (possible) objects, and nothing in the way
of intuition of them is given thereby (which indeed could not be
demanded), hence the admission of this reality does not render any
synthetical proposition possible. Consequently, this discovery does
not in the least help us to extend this knowledge of ours in a
speculative point of view, although it does in respect of the
practical employment of pure reason. The above three ideas of
speculative reason are still in themselves not cognitions; they are
however (transcendent) thoughts, in which there is nothing impossible.
Now, by help of an apodeictic practical law, being necessary
conditions of that which it commands to be made an object, they
acquire objective reality; that is, we learn from it that they have
objects, without being able to point out how the conception of them is
related to an object, and this, too, is still not a cognition of these
objects; for we cannot thereby form any synthetical judgement about
them, nor determine their application theoretically; consequently,
we can make no theoretical rational use of them at all, in which use
all speculative knowledge of reason consists. Nevertheless, the
theoretical knowledge, not indeed of these objects, but of reason
generally, is so far enlarged by this, that by the practical
postulates objects were given to those ideas, a merely problematical
thought having by this means first acquired objective reality. There
is therefore no extension of the knowledge of given supersensible
objects, but an extension of theoretical reason and of its knowledge
in respect of the supersensible generally; inasmuch as it is compelled
to admit that there are such objects, although it is not able to
define them more closely, so as itself to extend this knowledge of the
objects (which have now been given it on practical grounds, and only
for practical use). For this accession, then, pure theoretical reason,
for which all those ideas are transcendent and without object, has
simply to thank its practical faculty. In this they become immanent
and constitutive, being the source of the possibility of realizing the
necessary object of pure practical reason (the summum bonum);
whereas apart from this they are transcendent, and merely regulative
principles of speculative reason, which do not require it to assume
a new object beyond experience, but only to bring its use in
experience nearer to completeness. But when once reason is in
possession of this accession, it will go to work with these ideas as
speculative reason (properly only to assure the certainty of its
practical use) in a negative manner: that is, not extending but
clearing up its knowledge so as on one side to keep off
anthropomorphism, as the source of superstition, or seeming
extension of these conceptions by supposed experience; and on the
other side fanaticism, which promises the same by means of
supersensible intuition or feelings of the like kind. All these are
hindrances to the practical use of pure reason, so that the removal of
them may certainly be considered an extension of our knowledge in a
practical point of view, without contradicting the admission that
for speculative purposes reason has not in the least gained by this.

Every employment of reason in respect of an object requires pure
concepts of the understanding (categories), without which no object
can be conceived. These can be applied to the theoretical employment
of reason, i. e. , to that kind of knowledge, only in case an
intuition (which is always sensible) is taken as a basis, and
therefore merely in order to conceive by means of- them an object of
possible experience. Now here what have to be thought by means of
the categories in order to be known are ideas of reason, which
cannot be given in any experience. Only we are not here concerned with
the theoretical knowledge of the objects of these ideas, but only with
this, whether they have objects at all. This reality is supplied by
pure practical reason, and theoretical reason has nothing further to
do in this but to think those objects by means of categories. This, as
we have elsewhere clearly shown, can be done well enough without
needing any intuition (either sensible or supersensible) because the
categories have their seat and origin in the pure understanding,
simply as the faculty of thought, before and independently of any
intuition, and they always only signify an object in general, no
matter in what way it may be given to us. Now when the categories
are to be applied to these ideas, it is not possible to give them
any object in intuition; but that such an object actually exists,
and consequently that the category as a mere form of thought is here
not empty but has significance, this is sufficiently assured them by
an object which practical reason presents beyond doubt in the
concept of the summum bonum, the reality of the conceptions which
are required for the possibility of the summum bonum; without,
however, effecting by this accession the least extension of our
knowledge on theoretical principles.



When these ideas of God, of an intelligible world (the kingdom of
God), and of immortality are further determined by predicates taken
from our own nature, we must not regard this determination as a
sensualizing of those pure rational ideas (anthropomorphism), nor as a
transcendent knowledge of supersensible objects; for these
predicates are no others than understanding and will, considered too
in the relation to each other in which they must be conceived in the
moral law, and therefore, only so far as a pure practical use is
made of them. As to all the rest that belongs to these conceptions
psychologically, that is, so far as we observe these faculties of ours
empirically in their exercise (e. g. , that the understanding of man
is discursive, and its notions therefore not intuitions but
thoughts, that these follow one another in time, that his will has its
satisfaction always dependent on the existence of its object, etc. ,
which cannot be the case in the Supreme Being), from all this we
abstract in that case, and then there remains of the notions by
which we conceive a pure intelligence nothing more than just what is
required for the possibility of conceiving a moral law. There is
then a knowledge of God indeed, but only for practical purposes,
and, if we attempt to extend it to a theoretical knowledge, we find an
understanding that has intuitions, not thoughts, a will that is
directed to objects on the existence of which its satisfaction does
not in the least depend (not to mention the transcendental predicates,
as, for example, a magnitude of existence, that is duration, which,
however, is not in time, the only possible means we have of conceiving
existence as magnitude). Now these are all attributes of which we
can form no conception that would help to the knowledge of the object,
and we learn from this that they can never be used for a theory of
supersensible beings, so that on this side they are quite incapable of
being the foundation of a speculative knowledge, and their use is
limited simply to the practice of the moral law.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 75}

This last is so obvious, and can be proved so clearly by fact,
that we may confidently challenge all pretended natural theologians (a
singular name) * to specify (over and above the merely ontological
predicates) one single attribute, whether of the understanding or of
the will, determining this object of theirs, of which we could not
show incontrovertibly that, if we abstract from it everything
anthropomorphic, nothing would remain to us but the mere word, without
our being able to connect with it the smallest notion by which we
could hope for an extension of theoretical knowledge. But as to the
practical, there still remains to us of the attributes of
understanding and will the conception of a relation to which objective
reality is given by the practical law (which determines a priori
precisely this relation of the understanding to the will). When once
this is done, then reality is given to the conception of the object of
a will morally determined (the conception of the summum bonum), and
with it to the conditions of its possibility, the ideas of God,
freedom, and immortality, but always only relatively to the practice
of the moral law (and not for any speculative purpose).



* Learning is properly only the whole content of the historical
sciences. Consequently it is only the teacher of revealed theology
that can be called a learned theologian. If, however, we choose to
call a man learned who is in possession of the rational sciences
(mathematics and philosophy), although even this would be contrary
to the signification of the word (which always counts as learning only
that which one must be "learned" and which, therefore, he cannot
discover of himself by reason), even in that case the philosopher
would make too poor a figure with his knowledge of God as a positive
science to let himself be called on that account a learned man.



According to these remarks it is now easy to find the answer to
the weighty question whether the notion of God is one belonging to
physics (and therefore also to metaphysics, which contains the pure
a priori principles of the former in their universal import) or to
morals. If we have recourse to God as the Author of all things, in
order to explain the arrangements of nature or its changes, this is at
least not a physical explanation, and is a complete confession that
our philosophy has come to an end, since we are obliged to assume
something of which in itself we have otherwise no conception, in order
to be able to frame a conception of the possibility of what we see
before our eyes. Metaphysics, however, cannot enable us to attain by
certain inference from the knowledge of this world to the conception
of God and to the proof of His existence, for this reason, that in
order to say that this world could be produced only by a God
(according to the conception implied by this word) we should know this
world as the most perfect whole possible; and for this purpose
should also know all possible worlds (in order to be able to compare
them with this); in other words, we should be omniscient. It is
absolutely impossible, however, to know the existence of this Being
from mere concepts, because every existential proposition, that is,
every proposition that affirms the existence of a being of which I
frame a concept, is a synthetic proposition, that is, one by which I
go beyond that conception and affirm of it more than was thought in
the conception itself; namely, that this concept in the
understanding has an object corresponding to it outside the
understanding, and this it is obviously impossible to elicit by any
reasoning. There remains, therefore, only one single process
possible for reason to attain this knowledge, namely, to start from
the supreme principle of its pure practical use (which in every case
is directed simply to the existence of something as a consequence of
reason) and thus determine its object. Then its inevitable problem,
namely, the necessary direction of the will to the summum bonum,
discovers to us not only the necessity of assuming such a First
Being in reference to the possibility of this good in the world,
but, what is most remarkable, something which reason in its progress
on the path of physical nature altogether failed to find, namely, an
accurately defined conception of this First Being. As we can know only
a small part of this world, and can still less compare it with all
possible worlds, we may indeed from its order, design, and
greatness, infer a wise, good, powerful, etc. , Author of it, but not
that He is all-wise, all-good, all-powerful, etc. It may indeed very
well be granted that we should be justified in supplying this
inevitable defect by a legitimate and reasonable hypothesis; namely,
that when wisdom, goodness, etc, are displayed in all the parts that
offer themselves to our nearer knowledge, it is just the same in all
the rest, and that it would therefore be reasonable to ascribe all
possible perfections to the Author of the world, but these are not
strict logical inferences in which we can pride ourselves on our
insight, but only permitted conclusions in which we may be indulged
and which require further recommendation before we can make use of
them. On the path of empirical inquiry then (physics), the
conception of God remains always a conception of the perfection of the
First Being not accurately enough determined to be held adequate to
the conception of Deity. (With metaphysic in its transcendental part
nothing whatever can be accomplished. )

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 80}

When I now try to test this conception by reference to the object of
practical reason, I find that the moral principle admits as possible
only the conception of an Author of the world possessed of the highest
perfection. He must be omniscient, in order to know my conduct up to
the inmost root of my mental state in all possible cases and into
all future time; omnipotent, in order to allot to it its fitting
consequences; similarly He must be omnipresent, eternal, etc. Thus the
moral law, by means of the conception of the summum bonum as the
object of a pure practical reason, determines the concept of the First
Being as the Supreme Being; a thing which the physical (and in its
higher development the metaphysical), in other words, the whole
speculative course of reason, was unable to effect. The conception
of God, then, is one that belongs originally not to physics, i. e. ,
to speculative reason, but to morals. The same may be said of the
other conceptions of reason of which we have treated above as
postulates of it in its practical use.

In the history of Grecian philosophy we find no distinct traces of a
pure rational theology earlier than Anaxagoras; but this is not
because the older philosophers had not intelligence or penetration
enough to raise themselves to it by the path of speculation, at
least with the aid of a thoroughly reasonable hypothesis. What could
have been easier, what more natural, than the thought which of
itself occurs to everyone, to assume instead of several causes of
the world, instead of an indeterminate degree of perfection, a
single rational cause having all perfection? But the evils in the
world seemed to them to be much too serious objections to allow them
to feel themselves justified in such a hypothesis. They showed
intelligence and penetration then in this very point, that they did
not allow themselves to adopt it, but on the contrary looked about
amongst natural causes to see if they could not find in them the
qualities and power required for a First Being. But when this acute
people had advanced so far in their investigations of nature as to
treat even moral questions philosophically, on which other nations had
never done anything but talk, then first they found a new and
practical want, which did not fail to give definiteness to their
conception of the First Being: and in this the speculative reason
played the part of spectator, or at best had the merit of embellishing
a conception that had not grown on its own ground, and of applying a
series of confirmations from the study of nature now brought forward
for the first time, not indeed to strengthen the authority of this
conception (which was already established), but rather to make a
show with a supposed discovery of theoretical reason.



From these remarks, the reader of the Critique of Pure Speculative
Reason will be thoroughly convinced how highly necessary that
laborious deduction of the categories was, and how fruitful for
theology and morals. For if, on the one hand, we place them in pure
understanding, it is by this deduction alone that we can be
prevented from regarding them, with Plato, as innate, and founding
on them extravagant pretensions to theories of the supersensible, to
which we can see no end, and by which we should make theology a
magic lantern of chimeras; on the other hand, if we regard them as
acquired, this deduction saves us from restricting, with Epicurus, all
and every use of them, even for practical purposes, to the objects and
motives of the senses. But now that the Critique has shown by that
deduction, first, that they are not of empirical origin, but have
their seat and source a priori in the pure understanding; secondly,
that as they refer to objects in general independently of the
intuition of them, hence, although they cannot effect theoretical
knowledge, except in application to empirical objects, yet when
applied to an object given by pure practical reason they enable us
to conceive the supersensible definitely, only so far, however, as
it is defined by such predicates as are necessarily connected with the
pure practical purpose given a priori and with its possibility. The
speculative restriction of pure reason and its practical extension
bring it into that relation of equality in which reason in general can
be employed suitably to its end, and this example proves better than
any other that the path to wisdom, if it is to be made sure and not to
be impassable or misleading, must with us men inevitably pass
through science; but it is not till this is complete that we can be
convinced that it leads to this goal.



{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 85}

VIII. Of Belief from a Requirement of Pure Reason.



A want or requirement of pure reason in its speculative use leads
only to a hypothesis; that of pure practical reason to a postulate;
for in the former case I ascend from the result as high as I please in
the series of causes, not in order to give objective reality to the
result (e. g. , the causal connection of things and changes in the
world), but in order thoroughly to satisfy my inquiring reason in
respect of it. Thus I see before me order and design in nature, and
need not resort to speculation to assure myself of their reality,
but to explain them I have to presuppose a Deity as their cause; and
then since the inference from an effect to a definite cause is
always uncertain and doubtful, especially to a cause so precise and so
perfectly defined as we have to conceive in God, hence the highest
degree of certainty to which this pre-supposition can be brought is
that it is the most rational opinion for us men. * On the other hand,
a requirement of pure practical reason is based on a duty, that of
making something (the summum bonum) the object of my will so as to
promote it with all my powers; in which case I must suppose its
possibility and, consequently, also the conditions necessary
thereto, namely, God, freedom, and immortality; since I cannot prove
these by my speculative reason, although neither can I refute them.
This duty is founded on something that is indeed quite independent
of these suppositions and is of itself apodeictically certain, namely,
the moral law; and so far it needs no further support by theoretical
views as to the inner constitution of things, the secret final aim
of the order of the world, or a presiding ruler thereof, in order to
bind me in the most perfect manner to act in unconditional
conformity to the law. But the subjective effect of this law,
namely, the mental disposition conformed to it and made necessary by
it, to promote the practically possible summum bonum, this
pre-supposes at least that the latter is possible, for it would be
practically impossible to strive after the object of a conception
which at bottom was empty and had no object. Now the above-mentioned
postulates concern only the physical or metaphysical conditions of the
possibility of the summum bonum; in a word, those which lie in the
nature of things; not, however, for the sake of an arbitrary
speculative purpose, but of a practically necessary end of a pure
rational will, which in this case does not choose, but obeys an
inexorable command of reason, the foundation of which is objective, in
the constitution of things as they must be universally judged by
pure reason, and is not based on inclination; for we are in nowise
justified in assuming, on account of what we wish on merely subjective
grounds, that the means thereto are possible or that its object is
real. This, then, is an absolutely necessary requirement, and what
it pre-supposes is not merely justified as an allowable hypothesis,
but as a postulate in a practical point of view; and admitting that
the pure moral law inexorably binds every man as a command (not as a
rule of prudence), the righteous man may say: "I will that there be
a God, that my existence in this world be also an existence outside
the chain of physical causes and in a pure world of the understanding,
and lastly, that my duration be endless; I firmly abide by this, and
will not let this faith be taken from me; for in this instance alone
my interest, because I must not relax anything of it, inevitably
determines my judgement, without regarding sophistries, however unable
I may be to answer them or to oppose them with others more
plausible. *(2)



* But even here we should not be able to allege a requirement of
reason, if we had not before our eyes a problematical, but yet
inevitable, conception of reason, namely, that of an absolutely
necessary being. This conception now seeks to be defined, and this, in
addition to the tendency to extend itself, is the objective ground
of a requirement of speculative reason, namely, to have a more precise
definition of the conception of a necessary being which is to serve as
the first cause of other beings, so as to make these latter knowable
by some means. Without such antecedent necessary problems there are no
requirements- at least not of pure reason- the rest are requirements
of inclination.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 90}

*(2) In the Deutsches Museum, February, 1787, there is a
dissertation by a very subtle and clear-headed man, the late
Wizenmann, whose early death is to be lamented, in which he disputes
the right to argue from a want to the objective reality of its object,
and illustrates the point by the example of a man in love, who
having fooled himself into an idea of beauty, which is merely a
chimera of his own brain, would fain conclude that such an object
really exists somewhere. I quite agree with him in this, in all
cases where the want is founded on inclination, which cannot
necessarily postulate the existence of its object even for the man
that is affected by it, much less can it contain a demand valid for
everyone, and therefore it is merely a subjective ground of the
wish. But in the present case we have a want of reason springing
from an objective determining principle of the will, namely, the moral
law, which necessarily binds every rational being, and therefore
justifies him in assuming a priori in nature the conditions proper for
it, and makes the latter inseparable from the complete practical use
of reason. It is a duty to realize the summum bonum to the utmost of
our power, therefore it must be possible, consequently it is
unavoidable for every rational being in the world to assume what is
necessary for its objective possibility. The assumption is as
necessary as the moral law, in connection with which alone it is
valid.



In order to prevent misconception in the use of a notion as yet so
unusual as that of a faith of pure practical reason, let me be
permitted to add one more remark. It might almost seem as if this
rational faith were here announced as itself a command, namely, that
we should assume the summum bonum as possible. But a faith that is
commanded is nonsense. Let the preceding analysis, however, be
remembered of what is required to be supposed in the conception of the
summum bonum, and it will be seen that it cannot be commanded to
assume this possibility, and no practical disposition of mind is
required to admit it; but that speculative reason must concede it
without being asked, for no one can affirm that it is impossible in
itself that rational beings in the world should at the same time be
worthy of happiness in conformity with the moral law and also
possess this happiness proportionately. Now in respect of the first
element of the summum bonum, namely, that which concerns morality, the
moral law gives merely a command, and to doubt the possibility of that
element would be the same as to call in question the moral law itself.
But as regards the second element of that object, namely, happiness
perfectly proportioned to that worthiness, it is true that there is no
need of a command to admit its possibility in general, for theoretical
reason has nothing to say against it; but the manner in which we
have to conceive this harmony of the laws of nature with those of
freedom has in it something in respect of which we have a choice,
because theoretical reason decides nothing with apodeictic certainty
about it, and in respect of this there may be a moral interest which
turns the scale.

I had said above that in a mere course of nature in the world an
accurate correspondence between happiness and moral worth is not to be
expected and must be regarded as impossible, and that therefore the
possibility of the summum bonum cannot be admitted from this side
except on the supposition of a moral Author of the world. I
purposely reserved the restriction of this judgement to the subjective
conditions of our reason, in order not to make use of it until the
manner of this belief should be defined more precisely. The fact is
that the impossibility referred to is merely subjective, that is,
our reason finds it impossible for it to render conceivable in the way
of a mere course of nature a connection so exactly proportioned and so
thoroughly adapted to an end, between two sets of events happening
according to such distinct laws; although, as with everything else
in nature that is adapted to an end, it cannot prove, that is, show by
sufficient objective reason, that it is not possible by universal laws
of nature.

Now, however, a deciding principle of a different kind comes into
play to turn the scale in this uncertainty of speculative reason.
The command to promote the summum bonum is established on an objective
basis (in practical reason); the possibility of the same in general is
likewise established on an objective basis (in theoretical reason,
which has nothing to say against it). But reason cannot decide
objectively in what way we are to conceive this possibility; whether
by universal laws of nature without a wise Author presiding over
nature, or only on supposition of such an Author. Now here there comes
in a subjective condition of reason, the only way theoretically
possible for it, of conceiving the exact harmony of the kingdom of
nature with the kingdom of morals, which is the condition of the
possibility of the summum bonum; and at the same time the only one
conducive to morality (which depends on an objective law of reason).
Now since the promotion of this summum bonum, and therefore the
supposition of its possibility, are objectively necessary (though only
as a result of practical reason), while at the same time the manner in
which we would conceive it rests with our own choice, and in this
choice a free interest of pure practical reason decides for the
assumption of a wise Author of the world; it is clear that the
principle that herein determines our judgement, though as a want it is
subjective, yet at the same time being the means of promoting what
is objectively (practically) necessary, is the foundation of a maxim
of belief in a moral point of view, that is, a faith of pure practical
reason. This, then, is not commanded, but being a voluntary
determination of our judgement, conducive to the moral (commanded)
purpose, and moreover harmonizing with the theoretical requirement
of reason, to assume that existence and to make it the foundation of
our further employment of reason, it has itself sprung from the
moral disposition of mind; it may therefore at times waver even in the
well-disposed, but can never be reduced to unbelief.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 95}



IX. Of the Wise Adaptation of Man's Cognitive Faculties

to his Practical Destination.



If human nature is destined to endeavour after the summum bonum,
we must suppose also that the measure of its cognitive faculties,
and particularly their relation to one another, is suitable to this
end. Now the Critique of Pure Speculative Reason proves that this is
incapable of solving satisfactorily the most weighty problems that are
proposed to it, although it does not ignore the natural and
important hints received from the same reason, nor the great steps
that it can make to approach to this great goal that is set before it,
which, however, it can never reach of itself, even with the help of
the greatest knowledge of nature. Nature then seems here to have
provided us only in a step-motherly fashion with the faculty required
for our end.

{BOOK_2|CHAPTER_2 ^paragraph 100}

Suppose, now, that in this matter nature had conformed to our wish
and had given us that capacity of discernment or that enlightenment
which we would gladly possess, or which some imagine they actually
possess, what would in all probability be the consequence? Unless
our whole nature were at the same time changed, our inclinations,
which always have the first word, would first of all demand their
own satisfaction, and, joined with rational reflection, the greatest
possible and most lasting satisfaction, under the name of happiness;
the moral law would afterwards speak, in order to keep them within
their proper bounds, and even to subject them all to a higher end,
which has no regard to inclination. But instead of the conflict that
the moral disposition has now to carry on with the inclinations, in
which, though after some defeats, moral strength of mind may be
gradually acquired, God and eternity with their awful majesty would
stand unceasingly before our eyes (for what we can prove perfectly
is to us as certain as that of which we are assured by the sight of
our eyes). Transgression of the law, would, no doubt, be avoided; what
is commanded would be done; but the mental disposition, from which
actions ought to proceed, cannot be infused by any command, and in
this case the spur of action is ever active and external, so that
reason has no need to exert itself in order to gather strength to
resist the inclinations by a lively representation of the dignity of
the law: hence most of the actions that conformed to the law would
be done from fear, a few only from hope, and none at all from duty,
and the moral worth of actions, on which alone in the eyes of
supreme wisdom the worth of the person and even that of the world
depends, would cease to exist. As long as the nature of man remains
what it is, his conduct would thus be changed into mere mechanism,
in which, as in a puppet-show, everything would gesticulate well,
but there would be no life in the figures. Now, when it is quite
otherwise with us, when with all the effort of our reason we have only
a very obscure and doubtful view into the future, when the Governor of
the world allows us only to conjecture his existence and his
majesty, not to behold them or prove them clearly; and on the other
hand, the moral law within us, without promising or threatening
anything with certainty, demands of us disinterested respect; and only
when this respect has become active and dominant, does it allow us
by means of it a prospect into the world of the supersensible, and
then only with weak glances: all this being so, there is room for true
moral disposition, immediately devoted to the law, and a rational
creature can become worthy of sharing in the summum bonum that
corresponds to the worth of his person and not merely to his
actions. Thus what the study of nature and of man teaches us
sufficiently elsewhere may well be true here also; that the
unsearchable wisdom by which we exist is not less worthy of admiration
in what it has denied than in what it has granted.

PART_2|METHODOLOGY

SECOND PART.



Methodology of Pure Practical Reason.



By the methodology of pure practical reason we are not to understand
the mode of proceeding with pure practical principles (whether in
study or in exposition), with a view to a scientific knowledge of
them, which alone is what is properly called method elsewhere in
theoretical philosophy (for popular knowledge requires a manner,
science a method, i. e. , a process according to principles of reason by
which alone the manifold of any branch of knowledge can become a
system). On the contrary, by this methodology is understood the mode
in which we can give the laws of pure practical reason access to the
human mind and influence on its maxims, that is, by which we can
make the objectively practical reason subjectively practical also.

Now it is clear enough that those determining principles of the will
which alone make maxims properly moral and give them a moral worth,
namely, the direct conception of the law and the objective necessity
of obeying it as our duty, must be regarded as the proper springs of
actions, since otherwise legality of actions might be produced, but
not morality of character. But it is not so clear; on the contrary, it
must at first sight seem to every one very improbable that even
subjectively that exhibition of pure virtue can have more power over
the human mind, and supply a far stronger spring even for effecting
that legality of actions, and can produce more powerful resolutions to
prefer the law, from pure respect for it, to every other
consideration, than all the deceptive allurements of pleasure or of
all that may be reckoned as happiness, or even than all threatenings
of pain and misfortune. Nevertheless, this is actually the case, and
if human nature were not so constituted, no mode of presenting the law
by roundabout ways and indirect recommendations would ever produce
morality of character. All would be simple hypocrisy; the law would be
hated, or at least despised, while it was followed for the sake of
one's own advantage. The letter of the law (legality) would be found
in our actions, but not the spirit of it in our minds (morality);
and as with all our efforts we could not quite free ourselves from
reason in our judgement, we must inevitably appear in our own eyes
worthless, depraved men, even though we should seek to compensate
ourselves for this mortification before the inner tribunal, by
enjoying the pleasure that a supposed natural or divine law might be
imagined to have connected with it a sort of police machinery,
regulating its operations by what was done without troubling itself
about the motives for doing it.

It cannot indeed be denied that in order to bring an uncultivated or
degraded mind into the track of moral goodness some preparatory
guidance is necessary, to attract it by a view of its own advantage,
or to alarm it by fear of loss; but as soon as this mechanical work,
these leading-strings have produced some effect, then we must bring
before the mind the pure moral motive, which, not only because it is
the only one that can be the foundation of a character (a
practically consistent habit of mind with unchangeable maxims), but
also because it teaches a man to feel his own dignity, gives the
mind a power unexpected even by himself, to tear himself from all
sensible attachments so far as they would fain have the rule, and to
find a rich compensation for the sacrifice he offers, in the
independence of his rational nature and the greatness of soul to which
he sees that he is destined. We will therefore show, by such
observations as every one can make, that this property of our minds,
this receptivity for a pure moral interest, and consequently the
moving force of the pure conception of virtue, when it is properly
applied to the human heart, is the most powerful spring and, when a
continued and punctual observance of moral maxims is in question,
the only spring of good conduct. It must, however, be remembered
that if these observations only prove the reality of such a feeling,
but do not show any moral improvement brought about by it, this is
no argument against the only method that exists of making the
objectively practical laws of pure reason subjectively practical,
through the mere force of the conception of duty; nor does it prove
that this method is a vain delusion. For as it has never yet come into
vogue, experience can say nothing of its results; one can only ask for
proofs of the receptivity for such springs, and these I will now
briefly present, and then sketch the method of founding and
cultivating genuine moral dispositions.

{PART_2|METHODOLOGY ^paragraph 5}

When we attend to the course of conversation in mixed companies,
consisting not merely of learned persons and subtle reasoners, but
also of men of business or of women, we observe that, besides
story-telling and jesting, another kind of entertainment finds a place
in them, namely, argument; for stories, if they are to have novelty
and interest, are soon exhausted, and jesting is likely to become
insipid. Now of all argument there is none in which persons are more
ready to join who find any other subtle discussion tedious, none
that brings more liveliness into the company, than that which concerns
the moral worth of this or that action by which the character of
some person is to be made out. Persons, to whom in other cases
anything subtle and speculative in theoretical questions is dry and
irksome, presently join in when the question is to make out the
moral import of a good or bad action that has been related, and they
display an exactness, a refinement, a subtlety, in excogitating
everything that can lessen the purity of purpose, and consequently the
degree of virtue in it, which we do not expect from them in any
other kind of speculation. In these criticisms, persons who are
passing judgement on others often reveal their own character: some, in
exercising their judicial office, especially upon the dead, seem
inclined chiefly to defend the goodness that is related of this or
that deed against all injurious charges of insincerity, and ultimately
to defend the whole moral worth of the person against the reproach
of dissimulation and secret wickedness; others, on the contrary,
turn their thoughts more upon attacking this worth by accusation and
fault finding. We cannot always, however, attribute to these latter
the intention of arguing away virtue altogether out of all human
examples in order to make it an empty name; often, on the contrary, it
is only well-meant strictness in determining the true moral import
of actions according to an uncompromising law. Comparison with such
a law, instead of with examples, lowers self-conceit in moral
matters very much, and not merely teaches humility, but makes every
one feel it when he examines himself closely. Nevertheless, we can for
the most part observe, in those who defend the purity of purpose in
giving examples that where there is the presumption of uprightness
they are anxious to remove even the least spot, lest, if all
examples had their truthfulness disputed, and if the purity of all
human virtue were denied, it might in the end be regarded as a mere
phantom, and so all effort to attain it be made light of as vain
affectation and delusive conceit.

I do not know why the educators of youth have not long since made
use of this propensity of reason to enter with pleasure upon the
most subtle examination of the practical questions that are thrown up;
and why they have not, after first laying the foundation of a purely
moral catechism, searched through the biographies of ancient and
modern times with the view of having at hand instances of the duties
laid down, in which, especially by comparison of similar actions under
different circumstances, they might exercise the critical judgement of
their scholars in remarking their greater or less moral
significance. This is a thing in which they would find that even early
youth, which is still unripe for speculation of other kinds, would
soon Become very acute and not a little interested, because it feels
the progress of its faculty of judgement; and, what is most important,
they could hope with confidence that the frequent practice of
knowing and approving good conduct in all its purity, and on the other
hand of remarking with regret or contempt the least deviation from it,
although it may be pursued only as a sport in which children may
compete with one another, yet will leave a lasting impression of
esteem on the one hand and disgust on the other; and so, by the mere
habit of looking on such actions as deserving approval or blame, a
good foundation would be laid for uprightness in the future course
of life. Only I wish they would spare them the example of so-called
noble (super-meritorious) actions, in which our sentimental books so
much abound, and would refer all to duty merely, and to the worth that
a man can and must give himself in his own eyes by the consciousness
of not having transgressed it, since whatever runs up into empty
wishes and longings after inaccessible perfection produces mere heroes
of romance, who, while they pique themselves on their feeling for
transcendent greatness, release themselves in return from the
observance of common and every-day obligations, which then seem to
them petty and insignificant. *



* It is quite proper to extol actions that display a great,
unselfish, sympathizing mind or humanity. But, in this case, we must
fix attention not so much on the elevation of soul, which is very
fleeting and transitory, as on the subjection of the heart to duty,
from which a more enduring impression may be expected, because this
implies principle (whereas the former only implies ebullitions). One
need only reflect a little and he will always find a debt that he
has by some means incurred towards the human race (even if it were
only this, by the inequality of men in the civil constitution,
enjoys advantages on account of which others must be the more in
want), which will prevent the thought of duty from being repressed
by the self-complacent imagination of merit.



{PART_2|METHODOLOGY ^paragraph 10}

But if it is asked: "What, then, is really pure morality, by which
as a touchstone we must test the moral significance of every
action," then I must admit that it is only philosophers that can
make the decision of this question doubtful, for to common sense it
has been decided long ago, not indeed by abstract general formulae,
but by habitual use, like the distinction between the right and left
hand. We will then point out the criterion of pure virtue in an
example first, and, imagining that it is set before a boy, of say
ten years old, for his judgement, we will see whether he would
necessarily judge so of himself without being guided by his teacher.
Tell him the history of an honest man whom men want to persuade to
join the calumniators of an innocent and powerless person (say Anne
Boleyn, accused by Henry VIII of England). He is offered advantages,
great gifts, or high rank; he rejects them. This will excite mere
approbation and applause in the mind of the hearer. Now begins the
threatening of loss. Amongst these traducers are his best friends, who
now renounce his friendship; near kinsfolk, who threaten to disinherit
him (he being without fortune); powerful persons, who can persecute
and harass him in all places and circumstances; a prince, who
threatens him with loss of freedom, yea, loss of life. Then to fill
the measure of suffering, and that he may feel the pain that only
the morally good heart can feel very deeply, let us conceive his
family threatened with extreme distress and want, entreating him to
yield; conceive himself, though upright, yet with feelings not hard or
insensible either to compassion or to his own distress; conceive
him, I say, at the moment when he wishes that he had never lived to
see the day that exposed him to such unutterable anguish, yet
remaining true to his uprightness of purpose, without wavering or even
doubting; then will my youthful hearer be raised gradually from mere
approval to admiration, from that to amazement, and finally to the
greatest veneration, and a lively wish that he himself could be such a
man (though certainly not in such circumstances). Yet virtue is here
worth so much only because it costs so much, not because it brings any
profit. All the admiration, and even the endeavour to resemble this
character, rest wholly on the purity of the moral principle, which can
only be strikingly shown by removing from the springs of action
everything that men may regard as part of happiness. Morality, then,
must have the more power over the human heart the more purely it is
exhibited. Whence it follows that, if the law of morality and the
image of holiness and virtue are to exercise any influence at all on
our souls, they can do so only so far as they are laid to heart in
their purity as motives, unmixed with any view to prosperity, for it
is in suffering that they display themselves most nobly. Now that
whose removal strengthens the effect of a moving force must have
been a hindrance, consequently every admixture of motives taken from
our own happiness is a hindrance to the influence of the moral law
on the heart. I affirm further that even in that admired action, if
the motive from which it was done was a high regard for duty, then
it is just this respect for the law that has the greatest influence on
the mind of the spectator, not any pretension to a supposed inward
greatness of mind or noble meritorious sentiments; consequently
duty, not merit, must have not only the most definite, but, when it is
represented in the true light of its inviolability, the most
penetrating, influence on the mind.

It is more necessary than ever to direct attention to this method in
our times, when men hope to produce more effect on the mind with soft,
tender feelings, or high-flown, puffing-up pretensions, which rather
wither the heart than strengthen it, than by a plain and earnest
representation of duty, which is more suited to human imperfection and
to progress in goodness. To set before children, as a pattern, actions
that are called noble, magnanimous, meritorious, with the notion of
captivating them by infusing enthusiasm for such actions, is to defeat
our end. For as they are still so backward in the observance of the
commonest duty, and even in the correct estimation of it, this means
simply to make them fantastical romancers betimes. But, even with
the instructed and experienced part of mankind, this supposed spring
has, if not an injurious, at least no genuine, moral effect on the
heart, which, however, is what it was desired to produce.

All feelings, especially those that are to produce unwonted
exertions, must accomplish their effect at the moment they are at
their height and before the calm down; otherwise they effect
nothing; for as there was nothing to strengthen the heart, but only to
excite it, it naturally returns to its normal moderate tone and, thus,
falls back into its previous languor. Principles must be built on
conceptions; on any other basis there can only be paroxysms, which can
give the person no moral worth, nay, not even confidence in himself,
without which the highest good in man, consciousness of the morality
of his mind and character, cannot exist. Now if these conceptions
are to become subjectively practical, we must not rest satisfied
with admiring the objective law of morality, and esteeming it highly
in reference to humanity, but we must consider the conception of it in
relation to man as an individual, and then this law appears in a
form indeed that is highly deserving of respect, but not so pleasant
as if it belonged to the element to which he is naturally
accustomed; but on the contrary as often compelling him to quit this
element, not without self-denial, and to betake himself to a higher,
in which he can only maintain himself with trouble and with
unceasing apprehension of a relapse. In a word, the moral law
demands obedience, from duty not from predilection, which cannot and
ought not to be presupposed at all.

Let us now see, in an example, whether the conception of an
action, as a noble and magnanimous one, has more subjective moving
power than if the action is conceived merely as duty in relation to
the solemn law of morality. The action by which a man endeavours at
the greatest peril of life to rescue people from shipwreck, at last
losing his life in the attempt, is reckoned on one side as duty, but
on the other and for the most part as a meritorious action, but our
esteem for it is much weakened by the notion of duty to himself
which seems in this case to be somewhat infringed. More decisive is
the magnanimous sacrifice of life for the safety of one's country; and
yet there still remains some scruple whether it is a perfect duty to
devote one's self to this purpose spontaneously and unbidden, and
the action has not in itself the full force of a pattern and impulse
to imitation. But if an indispensable duty be in question, the
transgression of which violates the moral law itself, and without
regard to the welfare of mankind, and as it were tramples on its
holiness (such as are usually called duties to God, because in Him
we conceive the ideal of holiness in substance), then we give our most
perfect esteem to the pursuit of it at the sacrifice of all that can
have any value for the dearest inclinations, and we find our soul
strengthened and elevated by such an example, when we convince
ourselves by contemplation of it that human nature is capable of so
great an elevation above every motive that nature can oppose to it.
Juvenal describes such an example in a climax which makes the reader
feel vividly the force of the spring that is contained in the pure law
of duty, as duty:



{PART_2|METHODOLOGY ^paragraph 15}

Esto bonus miles, tutor bonus, arbiter idem

Integer; ambiguae si quando citabere testis

Incertaeque rei, Phalaris licet imperet ut sis

Falsus, et admoto dictet periuria tauro,

Summum crede nefas animam praeferre pudori,

{PART_2|METHODOLOGY ^paragraph 20}

Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas. *



* [Juvenal, Satirae, "Be you a good soldier, a faithful tutor, an
uncorrupted umpire also; if you are summoned as a witness in a
doubtful and uncertain thing, though Phalaris should command that
you should be false, and should dictate perjuries with the bull
brought to you, believe it the highest impiety to prefer life to
reputation, and for the sake of life, to lose the causes of living. "]



When we can bring any flattering thought of merit into our action,
then the motive is already somewhat alloyed with self-love and has
therefore some assistance from the side of the sensibility. But to
postpone everything to the holiness of duty alone, and to be conscious
that we can because our own reason recognises this as its command
and says that we ought to do it, this is, as it were, to raise
ourselves altogether above the world of sense, and there is
inseparably involved in the same a consciousness of the law, as a
spring of a faculty that controls the sensibility; and although this
is not always attended with effect, yet frequent engagement with
this spring, and the at first minor attempts at using it, give hope
that this effect may be wrought, and that by degrees the greatest, and
that a purely moral interest in it may be produced in us.

{PART_2|METHODOLOGY ^paragraph 25}

The method then takes the following course. At first we are only
concerned to make the judging of actions by moral laws a natural
employment accompanying all our own free actions, as well as the
observation of those of others, and to make it as it were a habit, and
to sharpen this judgement, asking first whether the action conforms
objectively to the moral law, and to what law; and we distinguish
the law that merely furnishes a principle of obligation from that
which is really obligatory (leges obligandi a legibus obligantibus);
as, for instance, the law of what men's wants require from me, as
contrasted with that which their rights demand, the latter of which
prescribes essential, the former only non-essential duties; and thus
we teach how to distinguish different kinds of duties which meet in
the same action. The other point to which attention must be directed
is the question whether the action was also (subjectively) done for
the sake of the moral law, so that it not only is morally correct as a
deed, but also, by the maxim from which it is done, has moral worth as
a disposition. Now there is no doubt that this practice, and the
resulting culture of our reason in judging merely of the practical,
must gradually produce a certain interest even in the law of reason,
and consequently in morally good actions. For we ultimately take a
liking for a thing, the contemplation of which makes us feel that
the use of our cognitive faculties is extended; and this extension
is especially furthered by that in which we find moral correctness,
since it is only in such an order of things that reason, with its
faculty of determining a priori on principle what ought to be done,
can find satisfaction. An observer of nature takes liking at last to
objects that at first offended his senses, when he discovers in them
the great adaptation of their organization to design, so that his
reason finds food in its contemplation. So Leibnitz spared an insect
that he had carefully examined with the microscope, and replaced it on
its leaf, because he had found himself instructed by the view of it
and had, as it were, received a benefit from it.

But this employment of the faculty of judgement, which makes us feel
our own cognitive powers, is not yet the interest in actions and in
their morality itself. It merely causes us to take pleasure in
engaging in such criticism, and it gives to virtue or the
disposition that conforms to moral laws a form of beauty, which is
admired, but not on that account sought after (laudatur et alget);
as everything the contemplation of which produces a consciousness of
the harmony of our powers of conception, and in which we feel the
whole of our faculty of knowledge (understanding and imagination)
strengthened, produces a satisfaction, which may also be
communicated to others, while nevertheless the existence of the object
remains indifferent to us, being only regarded as the occasion of
our becoming aware of the capacities in us which are elevated above
mere animal nature. Now, however, the second exercise comes in, the
living exhibition of morality of character by examples, in which
attention is directed to purity of will, first only as a negative
perfection, in so far as in an action done from duty no motives of
inclination have any influence in determining it. By this the
pupil's attention is fixed upon the consciousness of his freedom,
and although this renunciation at first excites a feeling of pain,
nevertheless, by its withdrawing the pupil from the constraint of even
real wants, there is proclaimed to him at the same time a
deliverance from the manifold dissatisfaction in which all these wants
entangle him, and the mind is made capable of receiving the
sensation of satisfaction from other sources. The heart is freed and
lightened of a burden that always secretly presses on it, when
instances of pure moral resolutions reveal to the man an inner faculty
of which otherwise he has no right knowledge, the inward freedom to
release himself from the boisterous importunity of inclinations, to
such a degree that none of them, not even the dearest, shall have
any influence on a resolution, for which we are now to employ our
reason. Suppose a case where I alone know that the wrong is on my
side, and although a free confession of it and the offer of
satisfaction are so strongly opposed by vanity, selfishness, and
even an otherwise not illegitimate antipathy to the man whose rights
are impaired by me, I am nevertheless able to discard all these
considerations; in this there is implied a consciousness of
independence on inclinations and circumstances, and of the possibility
of being sufficient for myself, which is salutary to me in general for
other purposes also.