Hölderlin’s and Novalis’ Philosophical Beginnings (1795) ^†

Abstract

Philosophers and literary scholars have notoriously struggled with the periodization of Hölderlin’s work, showing particular reluctance to situate it within Early Romanticism. But there can be no doubt that Hölderlin’s philosophical work resides within the context of an anti-foundationalist criticism, which students of Karl Leonhard Reinhold leveled at his programmatic deduction from a “highest principle” (oberster Grundsatz) in the early 1790s and intensified following Fichte’s lectures (1794/95) on the Science of Knowledge (Wissenschaftslehre). Novalis belonged directly to the circle of Reinhold students, while Hölderlin gained access to it through Friedrich Immanuel Niethammer, his friend from student days in Tübingen and “mentor” in Jena. Niethammer encouraged both Hölderlin and Novalis to contribute to his Philosophisches Journal, conceived as a forum for discussing the pros and cons of foundational philosophy (Grundsatzphilosophie). Novalis’ Fichte-Studies and Hölderlin’s philosophical fragments from 1795/96 can be read as drafts for such an essay. Both men developed similar critiques of Reinhold’s reformulated, subject-centered “highest principle”, the “principle of consciousness” (Satz des Bewusstseins). They argued that according to Reinhold, self-consciousness is a representation, i.e., a binary relationship that provides no explanation for the certainty of unity associated with self-consciousness. Both postulate a transcendent “ground of unity”, which would address this issue while remaining inaccessible to consciousness. My article demonstrates that both men failed to disentangle themselves from the snares of Reinhold’s model of representation, and both transferred the solution for the problem of self-consciousness onto the extra-philosophical medium of art.

1. Introduction: Hölderlin and Novalis Within the Jena Constellation

Scholars have long resorted to expediencies in attempting to come up with a philosophical–historical periodization of Hölderlin’s work. One finds him situated frequently “between Classicism and Romanticism”, sharing that space with Jean Paul and Heinrich von Kleist, although neither of them were philosophers in the strict sense. Hölderlin philologists have been remarkably zealous in their efforts to distinguish him from Early Romanticism, specifically from such authors as Friedrich Schlegel and Friedrich von Hardenberg (Novalis). But the similarities between their work and Hölderlin’s are so striking on so many levels—both in form and content—that one would have to be blind to overlook these convergences, never mind denying them. All three are—to make use again of an expedient—“poet-philosophers”. A substantial portion of their respective oeuvres consists of purely philosophical writings with no direct bearing on poetry. Hölderlin’s philosophical texts have been (and continue to be) well explicated for the past half-century, primarily through Dieter Henrich’s standard work (Henrich 1992). Those by Novalis are still largely in need of elucidation (despite Frank 1998, 2019a), even though, at least for several years, philosophy was the chief occupation of Friedrich von Hardenberg (who, under pressure from the censure, later assumed the penname Novalis). On 6 June 1796, he wrote to his friend, Friedrich Schlegel, from Weissenfels: “Mein Lieblingsstudium heißt im Grunde, wie meine Braut. Sofie heißt sie—Filosofie ist die Seele meines Lebens und der Schlüssel zu meinem eigensten Selbst” (Novalis 1975, p. 188; My favorite area of study has, in essence, the same name as my bride. She is called Sophie—philosophy is the soul of my life and the key to the self that is most my own1). At this same time, Hölderlin, too, left no doubt that during and after his stay in Jena philosophy was “wieder einmal fast meine einzige Beschäftigung” (letter to Friedrich Immanuel Niethammer from 24 February 1796; Hölderlin 1992b, p. 224; “once again almost my only occupation”, Hölderlin 2009, p. 66). Indeed, he had planned to habilitate in Jena with Niethammer as his supervisor, with the hope of offering lectures there in philosophy.

Another alleged dividing line between the Early Romantics and Hölderlin—Hölderlin’s “Graecomania” vs. the Early Romantics’ “cult of the Middle Ages”—is also entirely mistaken. Note that “Graecomania” is a term coined by, of all people, Schiller, who scarcely knew Greek;2 he leveled it as criticism against Friedrich Schlegel, who had published definitive studies on Greek poetry and philosophy and had just begun to translate Plato. As for preferring medieval and modern German culture, Hölderlin would later come around to this view, first in his Hyperion and most especially in his letter to Böhlendorff from 4 December 1801, with its notion of a turn to the “national” (Hölderlin 1992b, p. 419 ff.; Hölderlin 2009, p. 207 ff.).

Novalis’ work appeared to be easier to classify, although a good two-thirds of it consists of either philosophical or scientific writings. It was identified—without hesitation—as “Romantic”, or, more precisely, “Early Romantic”. Yet Novalis himself did not make use of this descriptor before 1798, when, probably under the influence of Friedrich Schlegel, he began to employ it, albeit nearly exclusively with reference to poetry (Novalis 1965, p. 545; Novalis 1968, pp. 558, 573, 638, and 670).

This uncertainty regarding the periodization of these two authors has changed fundamentally, at least with respect to their philosophical work, through what has come to be known as “constellational research” (Henrich 1991, 2004; Stamm 1992; Frank 1998; Mulsow and Stamm 2005). This approach first brought to light that Hölderlin and Novalis received virtually the same philosophical education, following a path from Karl Leonhard Reinhold to Fichte, and then away from both. We see this influence directly in the case of Novalis, who studied with Reinhold in Jena from October 1790 through October 17913 and was there in early 1792 at the ailing Schiller’s bedside. He also maintained contact, in some cases up to his death, with fellow students Johann Benjamin Erhard, Baron Franz Paul von Herbert, Friedrich Carl Forberg, and Friedrich Immanuel Niethammer.4 This group of young intellectuals has been rather ineptly labeled the “little Kantians”. But they constituted a philosophical circle whose education took place in a remarkably singular manner through mutual sharing and critique of ideas through frequent meetings and correspondence. Henrich justifiably spoke of an intellectual “constellation”. Through Niethammer Hölderlin gained contact with this group; Novalis was a member from the start, which, however, scholars recognized only much later. Guido Naschert correctly observes in the foreword to his edition of Forberg’s Philosophische Schriften:

[Der Kreis von Reinhold-Schülern, zu denen von Ferne auch Immanuel Carl Diez und Carl Christian Erhard Schmid gezählt werden dürfen] ist dem radikalen, “enragierten” Kantianismus zuzurechnen. Dieser diskutierte seine philosophischen Überzeugungen, war kantisch, bezog sie jedoch gleichzeitig aus Motiven der Radikalaufklärung. Allein aus ihrer Kant-Lektüre lassen sich [diese jungen Intellektuellen] nicht hinreichend erfassen. Vielmehr bilden sie eine eigene, konfessionsübergreifende Formation innerhalb der klassischen deutschen Philosophie. Diese Gruppe von Kantianern lieferte nicht nur wichtige Beiträge zu zeitgenössischen Debatten oder brachte diese sogar (wie beim Atheismusstreit der Jahre 1798/99) ins Rollen. Sie hat auch andere Gruppen und Bewegungen wie etwa die deutsche Frühromantik teils direkt, teils indirekt herausgefordert. Es geschieht daher zu Unrecht, dass diese Intellektuellen in der Geschichtsschreibung unter dem Etikett “kleine Kantianer” beiseite geschoben wurden. Mit dem radikalen Kantianismus verbindet sich vielmehr das Versprechen einer “vernunftkritischen” Radikalaufklärung, die problematische Voraussetzungen einer dogmatischen Metaphysik älteren Typs, wie etwa derjenigen Spinozas, hinter sich lässt.5

[The circle of Reinhold disciples, to whom, albeit from a distance, Immanuel Carl Diez and Carl Christian Erhard Schmid must also be reckoned,] belonged to the radical, “enraged” wing of Kantianism. They discussed Kant’s philosophy, were themselves Kantian, but at the same time drew on motifs from the radical Enlightenment. It’s not their reading of Kant alone that distinguishes [these young intellectuals]. Rather, they constitute their own, supra-confessional formation within classical German philosophy. This group of Kantians not only made important contributions to contemporary debates, at times even setting them into motion (as in the atheism dispute of 1798/99). They also challenged, both directly and indirectly, the thinking of other groups and movements, including Early Romanticism. That historians have brushed these intellectuals aside under the rubric of “little Kantians” is a clear injustice. Indeed, their radical Kantianism holds the promise of a “rationally critical” radical Enlightenment that leaves behind the problematic assumptions of the older form of dogmatic metaphysics, such as that of Spinoza.

Unfortunately, only a few extant letters and documents, these frequently written by third parties, attest to Novalis’ participation in these discussions. The compelling call for help sent by Baron von Herbert from Teplitz to the physician Erhard on 5 August 1798 has only recently been transcribed.6 Meetings—such as the one documented in this letter between Novalis and von Herbert while both were taking the waters at Teplitz in August 17987—have recently come to light. That Novalis and von Herbert were already known among the Reinhold circle is demonstrated through the former’s entry from 4 April 1791, in von Herbert’s friendship album.8 Novalis’ letter to his father from 1 September 1798 indicates that he had continued to correspond with von Herbert (Novalis 1975, p. 259). Shortly before his death, he considered “von Dresden in das südlichere Klima zu seinem Freunde Herbert nach Clagenfurt zu reisen; doch die Aerzte wiederriethen [sic!] diese Reise” (traveling from Dresden to his friend von Herbert in the more southern clime of Klagenfurt; but the doctors advised against this trip).9 Ludwig Tieck confirmed this in his foreword to the third edition of Novalis’ Schriften (1815).10 Novalis’ letter from 8 July 1796 to Friedrich Schlegel makes mention of a visit with Forberg in Weissenfels or Dürrenberg, “der eben nach sehr langer Unterbrechung unsrer Freundschaft mir ein Herz voll Zärtlichkeit für mich zeigte” (Novalis 1975 p. 187; who, after a very long interruption of our friendship, showed a heart full of tenderness towards me). The writings of both men indicate that a significant exchange of thought had taken place between them (Frank 1996, 1998, lectures 23, 24). Only one letter from Hardenberg to Johann Benjamin Erhard has survived (written in April 1791 in Jena; Novalis 1975, p. 85 f.), in addition to a poetic entry in Erhard’s friendship album from late April 1791 (Novalis 1977, p. 540). Hardenberg also makes mention of Erhard in a letter from 26 February 1797 to his brother Erasmus. Here he singles out Erhard from the other Jena acquaintances: “Mit Erhard aber war ich eine Zeitlang wirklich Freund” (Novalis 1975, p. 203; But for a time, I was truly friends with Erhard). This aligns well with the above-mentioned letter from von Herbert, which Novalis sneaked by the censure using the Hardenberg seal of nobility, so that it could reach the revolutionary Erhard, who at the time was being hunted down everywhere by the authorities. Erhard was rescued from this critical situation through the intervention of Minister Karl August von Hardenberg, one of Novalis’ uncles, who, probably at his nephew’s behest, helped Erhard acquire a position in the Prussian administration in Ansbach. Erhard’s letters contain only allusions to his wanting to turn to Hardenberg in his distress.11 This is an area still in need of further research.

Hölderlin first gained access to this group and their thought in 1795 through the mediation of their common friend Niethammer, who belonged to the closest circle around von Herbert, Erhard and Forberg. In a letter to Niethammer written from Frankfurt on 24 February 1796, looking back on his time in Jena, Hölderlin calls Niethammer his “philosophischer Mentor” (Hölderlin 1992b, p. 225; philosophical mentor). Their friendship went back to their shared time in the Tübingen Stift; moreover, Niethammer was a distant cousin of his.12 Constellational research, especially by Henrich (1992 and 2004, ch. XI), has elucidated these connections in detail, albeit underemphasizing Novalis’ contributions while overstating the significance of Hölderlin’s.13

I have contended early on that Novalis is more explicit, more analytical, and argumentatively more agile in his philosophical writings than Hölderlin is in his. He outshines him, particularly regarding his speculative imagination. Henrich admitted as much to me in a letter from 11 November 1989: “Ich sehe ein, daß Novalis’ spekulative Produktivität der von Hölderlin vielleicht überlegen war” (I recognize that Novalis’ speculative productivity was perhaps superior to that of Hölderlin). But he contended that Novalis came much later than Hölderlin to a critique of Fichte, arguing, therefore, that Hölderlin had been the pioneer in overcoming a philosophy of reflection. But this, too, is doubtful. According to Friedrich Strack’s new dating, Hölderlin’s sketch Urtheil und Seyn (Judgment and Being) was not written in April 1795, as Henrich, with great philological effort and authority, had argued,14 but, at the earliest, in December 1795, if not in January or February 1796 (Strack 2013, p. 13 ff.). This significant little text was written on what appears to be the flyleaf of a special printing of Schelling’s Philosophische Briefe über Dogmaticismus [sic!] und Kriticismus (Philosophical Letters on Dogmatism and Criticism), which Schelling brought along for his friend during a visit to Nürtingen or Stuttgart in December 1795. On the other hand, according to Hans-Joachim Mähl, the first editor of the Fichte-Studien, Novalis began these notes in September 1795.15 Indeed, his reasonings here on being, identity, and judgment, which are so similar to the argumentation in Hölderlin’s sketch, are found at the very beginning of his notes (Novalis 1965, p. 104).

Whatever the exact chronology may be, both Hölderlin and Hardenberg converge surprisingly in their reaction to the Jena “constellation”. Both owned the first sections of Fichte’s Wissenschaftslehre (Science of Knowledge; Waibel 2000, p. 22 ff.; Mähl in Novalis 1965, p. 30 f.), which initially was printed lecture by lecture and made accessible only to those in attendance; the complete book first appeared in early summer 1795. And both received repeated requests from Niethammer for submissions to his recently established Philosophisches Journal. Novalis’ Fichte-Studien, written September 1795 through Juli 1796 and so named not by him but much later by the editors, were probably the sketch of an essay Novalis intended to write in response to these requests.16 This also seems plausible in light of the notes themselves: the occasional addressing of an (implicit) reader, and, in general, their dialogical style seem to point toward such an intended publication.

Hölderlin, too, was urged by Niethammer to submit an article to the Philosophisches Journal, and in his correspondence from 1795/1796 he mentions repeatedly that he was working on one.17 Perhaps he was referring to his Neue Briefe zur ästhetischen Erziehung (New letters on aesthetic education); he writes in several letters how he was wrestling—not without anguish and misgivings—on this project. Or it may be that some of the philosophical fragments from 1795 and 1796 that have been collected in the 17th volume of the Frankfurt Hölderlin-Edition (Hölderlin 1991) were intended for this purpose.

The Philosophisches Journal was conceived as a forum for testing the robustness—or the untenability—of a so-called “first and highest principle” of philosophy. Niethammer’s “Ankündigung” (announcement) of the Philosophisches Journal (Niethammer 1795a), his “Vorbericht über Zweck und Einrichtung des Journals” (Preliminary report on the purpose and organization of the journal; Niethammer 1795b), and, finally, his programmatic essay Von den Ansprüchen des gemeinen Verstandes an die Philosophie (On the claims of common sense on philosophy; Niethammer 1795c) are unambiguous on this point.18

After Reinhold had passed on the baton to Johann Gottlieb Fichte, his successor at Jena, to continue working on the project of a philosophy deduced from a highest principle (a project which Reinhold himself had already abandoned), discussion among Reinhold’s disciples was rekindled with even greater intensity. Hölderlin’s and Hardenberg’s earliest philosophical notes must be understood as positionings within this debate. And this explains Niethammer’s interest in getting the two young men to contribute to his journal. Hardenberg shared the skepticism of his earlier fellow students from Jena and his earlier tutor, Carl Christian Erhard Schmid, regarding the deduction of true statements from a single, evidence-supported principle (Frank 1998, 20th lecture). He likely would have attended Schmid’s lecture, held in the summer semester 1791 on empirical psychology,19 which justified such doubts, since he maintained contact with his mentor and adviser Schmid during his time in Jena.20 He owned a copy of the published volume of the lectures and quoted from it in his later notes. In any case, Hardenberg did not consider “the absolute” to be representable in one’s thoughts, nor did he believe that the “I” was a highest principle; rather, he considered it to be dependent on the absolute. At the beginning of his Fichte-Studien, he discusses Fichte’s absolute not as a “Gemachtes” (something made) through a “Thathandlung” (act), but rather as a “Gegebenes” (something given) to one’s “Selbstgefühl” (feeling of self; Frank 2002, p. 34 ff.).

Biographically speaking, Niethammer played a key role for both Hölderlin and Novalis. And through him they also met each other, probably on 28 May 1795, in Niethammer’s house, along with Fichte (Novalis 1975, pp. 588, 761 f., and 997). We know of the subject of their conversation only through Ludwig Döderlein’s synopsis; he was able to examine Niethammer’s diary, which since has been lost. The entry is disappointingly brief: “Viel über Religion gesprochen und über Offenbarung und daß für die Philosophie noch viele Fragen offen bleiben” (Novalis 1975, p. 588; Talked a lot about religion and revelation and that many questions remain open for philosophy). Those were topics of particular importance to Niethammer.

But what was the central thought by means of which Niethammer was able to exert such a strong influence on Hardenberg and Hölderlin? I have already mentioned that Niethammer upheld the thesis of the “Entbehrlichkeit eines höchsten und Einzigen Grundsatzes alles Wissens” (letter to Erhard from 2 June 1794; Niethammer 1995, p. 86; dispensability of a highest, single principle of all knowledge). And he replaced the “Gewissheit” (certainty) of a principle with the notion of an infinite “Annäherung” (approximation) to a “bloße Idee” (mere idea) of the “philosophirenden Vernunft” (philosophizing reason).21

I will now move without delay from these preliminaries to Hölderlin’s and Hardenberg’s philosophical debate regarding self-consciousness.

2. Hölderlin’s and Hardenberg’s Shared Initial Problem: The Paradox of Self-Consciousness

Hölderlin and Hardenberg did not take up Niethammer’s criticism of Reinhold in its original form, but rather in the new context created by Fichte’s Grundlage der gesamten Wissenschaftslehre (Foundation of the Entire Science of Knowledge). Fichte’s foundational principle was not the concept of representation, as Reinhold’s had been, but rather the absolute I. Here in Fichte’s early teaching lay an opaque connection to human self-consciousness.

Hölderlin’s and Novalis’ earliest independent thoughts on this matter begin with three tenets:

• Self-consciousness is the central theme of modern philosophy, from Descartes to Leibniz, up to Kant and Fichte. All these thinkers consider it to be the experimentum crucis: suited, indeed, for being the “highest principle” of philosophy, from which all claims to knowledge can be derived (“déduire”);22 hence, “Wissenschaftslehre” (science of knowledge).
• Self-consciousness can only “aufweisen” (show) or “darstellen” (present) itself in reflection, i.e., in an objectual representation directed at itself.
• But self-consciousness only shows itself fully disclosed under one precondition, which, however, reflection cannot meet. In other words: the light in which self-consciousness holds itself does not flow out of itself. Therefore, the “Grund” (ground) is not cognized, but rather “geglaubt” (believed).23

We see here the legacy of Reinhold’s theory of representation, which Fichte wanted to overcome, but within the bounds of which Niethammer and—in part through his mediation—Hölderlin and Novalis took their first philosophical steps.

As previously stated, Reinhold had raised “Vorstellung” or representatio, already for Leibniz and Kant a foundational concept, to the deductive principle of his “neue[] Theorie des menschlichen Vorstellungsvermögens”.24 According to this view, representation consists in (and is limited to) two relational operations, that of relating to and differentiating from subject and object (Relationen des Beziehens und Unterscheidens auf und von Subjekt und Objekt). These operations take place within the space of consciousness, the source of which is not given any further explanation. In his Neue Darstellung der Hauptmomente der Elementarphilosophie (Reinhold 1790; New presentation of the main moments of elementary philosophy),25 Reinhold reformulates the “Satz des Bewußtseins” (principle of consciousness) with a new, subject-centered emphasis:

Im Bewußtseyn wird die Vorstellung durch das Subjekt vom Subjekt und Objekt unterschieden und auf beyde bezogen.

(Reinhold 1790, p. 167)

In consciousness, the representation is differentiated from subject and object, and related to both, by the subject.

Here “the subject” is the agent doing the relating to and differentiating from subject and object: two operations performed upon the “representation”, both seen as relational operations, both occupying the space of “Bewußtseyn” (consciousness). These operations are two-place and asymmetrically structured; they separate their subject pole from object pole—as well as the representation and the subject working within it—once again from both. We join Ulrich Pardey in calling this the “Voraussetzung der Verschiedenheit” (Pardey 1994, p. 30 ff.; requirement of difference) inherent in representational philosophy. This presents a precarious trap for the theory of self-consciousness. For self-consciousness, too, is, according to Reinhold’s view, a representation (as is everything that takes place “im Bewußtseyn” [within consciousness]), or, more precisely, it is a “Vorstellung des Vorstellenden als eines solchen” (see Frank 1998, 11th lecture; a representation of the one representing as such). With self-representation comes self-objectification, and with that an internal cleavage of the phenomenon. The subject represents itself not as subject, but as object. And so here, too, the representation is differentiated from what is represented (In other words, the relationship spans an Ur-teilung [original division], to anticipate Hölderlin’s diction). But what is supposed to be clarified here is not a foreign consciousness, but self-consciousness.

This, of course, gives rise to the question—posed by Reinhold himself—of how “[sich] das Objekt des Bewußtseyns als Identisch mit dem Subjekte vorstell[en] [lasse]” (the object of consciousness lets itself be represented as Identical to the subject).26 For according to the Neue Theorie des menschlichen Vorstellungsvermögens (Reinhold 1789; New theory of the human faculty of representation), subject and object are different in number, or at the very least exist under very different cognitive conditions. The I-as-object is known to itself objectually (i.e., transitively); the I-as-subject is disclosed to itself intransitively (i.e., non-objectually). How is that supposed to work, based on Reinhold’s theory of representation?

One could point to the function of personal pronouns and offer Reinhold’s fly the following path out of the ointment: what presents itself from the perspective of the first person without need of identification and self-objectification is referred to from the perspective of the second or third person with “you” or “he/she”. But the referent remains the same. The apparent binarity (i.e., the “ur-teilende” [dividing] character) that Hölderlin and Novalis would hold against the reflection-model of self-consciousness would then be harmless, just as the repetition of a linguistic type in no wise endangers the identity of its meaning.

Meanwhile, nearly 200 years after the beginnings of Early Romanticism, Roderick Chisholm demonstrated that we cannot dissociate the identity of the subject from the cognitive conditions within which it is accessible to itself, nor can we say why this is so. The identity of the subject is first constituted by its consciousness of itself. Were there to be an external identification within self-consciousness, i.e., the identification of an independent object, this would have to follow from the quality of haecceity, which completely individualizes me—and only me (Chisholm 1981, p. 15 f.). But the representation of my haecceity would only bring me certainty that I am the bearer of this unique quality (or set of qualities), if I could bring this knowledge along from some pre-objectual source. But with that, epistemic concepts and skills come into play (Chisholm 1981, p. 23 f.). In other words, no non-circular path leads from the objectual knowledge of my (physical) identity to self-consciousness. Self-consciousness, thus, cannot consist in the knowledge of an ens omnimodo determinatum (being determined in every way), but must, rather, consist in a specific mechanism of epistemic appropriation. For this reason, Chisholm avoids Reinhold’s term of self-representation and replaces it, as does Meinong, with “self-presentation” (Chisholm 1977, p. 22; Chisholm 1981, pp. 79–89 and 94–97).

Or, to express it differently yet again, the one representing must not only single out the correct object and expel/exclude it from the sphere of his inwardness. He must also, at the same time, recognize this object as identical with this sphere, i.e., as himself. Hölderlin formulates this idea in Urtheil und Seyn as follows:

Wie ist […] Selbstbewußtseyn möglich? Dadurch daß ich mich mir selbst entgegenseze, mich von mir selbst trenne, aber ungeachtet dieser Trennung mich im entgegengesezten als dasselbe erkenne.

(Hölderlin 1991, p. 150, MF’s emphasis; also, in Hölderlin 1994, p. 503)

[…] how is self-consciousness possible? By opposing myself to myself, separating myself from myself, but notwithstanding this separation recognizing myself in the opposition as one and the same.

(Hölderlin 2009, p. 231)

And Novalis, designating “Bewusstmachen” (making conscious) as “Bezeichnen” (signifying), writes at the beginning of his Fichte-Studien:

Das erste Bezeichnende wird unvermerkt vor dem Spiegel der Reflexion sein eignes Bild gemahlt haben, und auch der Zug wird nicht vergessen seyn, daß das Bild in der Stellung gemahlt ist, daß es sich selbst mahlt.

(Novalis 1965, p. 110)

The first signifier without noticing it will have painted its own picture in the mirror of reflection, not forgetting to paint the feature, that the picture is painted in the arrangement that it [the first signifier] itself paints.

(Novalis 2003, p. 10)

3. The I Does Not Simply Posit Itself—It Posits Itself “as Positing Itself”

Within the philosophy of mind, this problem has been identified, above all by Chisholm, as the “de se constraint”.27 But this is none other than the problem we just discussed, and the one which Hölderlin and Novalis tried to crack using the terminology they had received from Reinhold. According to Chisholm, knowledge de se, i.e., knowledge of the one representing as the one representing, cannot be reduced to knowledge de re or de dicto (Chisholm 1981, p. 18 f.), i.e., to objective or propositional knowledge. This is not a question of ontology or the theory of cognition, but rather one of logic. In 1966, Castañeda rediscovered—of course entirely unbeknownst to him—Hölderlin’s and Hardenberg’s insight when he demonstrated that self-consciousness (linguistically represented through attitudes towards ourselves) cannot be made comprehensible from attitudes towards objective things (nor from attitudes towards facts/propositions) (Castañeda 1999). Chisholm (1981, p. 17 f.) followed him in the main, emphasizing that this irreducibility is a purely logical fact.

I will demonstrate this with a simple example in order to show the topicality of Hölderlin’s and Hardenberg’s thinking on the matter. The issue is to express linguistically one and the same fact in three different ways. Here is the basic fact: “Maria is the youngest high school graduate from Schriesheim, and she considers this same Maria (i.e., her herself) to be the future Wine Queen”. Maria enters here into an epistemic relation with herself, which can be considered as knowledge of fact, knowledge of an object, or as knowledge of self. The formulation de re reads as follows:

(a)

There is an x, such that x is identical to Maria (i.e., to the youngest high school graduate from Schriesheim), and x is considered by x to be the future Wine Queen.

And here is the formulation de se:

(b)

The youngest high school graduate from Schriesheim considers herself to be the future Wine Queen (or: believes that she herself*28 will be the next Wine Queen).

The reciprocal implication and exclusion relationships are clear:

(b) implies (a) (thus, de se implies de re): if someone believes something about himself, then he believes it about someone.

(a) does not imply (b) (thus, de re does not imply de se): if x is believed by x to be the future Wine Queen (and, moreover, is the youngest high school graduate from Schriesheim), these need not both be part of her belief about herself (x could be identical to the youngest high school graduate without her knowing it, and she might attribute to x the future honor of being Wine Queen without knowing that she herself* is x).

Conclusion: attitudes de se cannot be reduced to attitudes de re (and to adequacy conditions for the self-representation of x). The Viennese physicist and philosopher Ernst Mach has provided another, much quoted, example: following an exhausting trip he boarded a bus and saw a man coming towards him, climbing the stairs in the same rhythm he was. A thought shot through his mind: “Was ist doch das für ein heruntergekommener Schulmeister!” (Mach 1903, p. 3; What a shabby old school master that is!). He had not seen the mirror across from him.

In other words, self-consciousness is not some form of objectual consciousness, and, thus, is not a kind of representation, as Reinhold’s theory had suggested. Rather, it seems what we have here is a kind of knowledge sui generis. Fichte, too, recognized this, albeit only by around 1797, when he replaced the phrase: “das ich setzt sich selbst” (the I posits itself) with a new formula: “[Das Ich] setz[t] sich als sich setzend” (Fichte 1978, p. 32 f., MF’s emphasis; The I posits itself as positing itself). To be sure, he probably did not make this self-correction independent of the objections Hölderlin had raised (Waibel 2000, chap. 1), which we will discuss below in more detail.

But this new formulation, which excludes any notion of representation as relation and opposition, could not be made to square with Reinhold’s “Satz des Bewusstseins” (principle of consciousness). Fichte writes:

“das Selbstbewusstseyn ist unmittelbar; in ihm ist Subjektives und Objektives unzertrennlich vereinigt und absolut Eins”.

(Fichte 1965, vol. 1, p. 528; see also p. 527)

Self-consciousness is immediate; in it the subjective and the objective are inseparably united and absolutely One.

The one representing within self-consciousness may be de facto identical to the one represented. But based on the objective presentation of a relator alone, its identity with the correlate is not evident. These insights are not yet reflected in the Wissenschaftslehre of 1794, and this was the work Hölderlin and Novalis cut their teeth on in 1795. They had already brought a higher principle to bear against Reinhold. Fichte had spoken of an “absolutes Ich” (Fichte 1965, vol. 1, p. 95; absolute I). While representations are first “deduziert”29 from this absolute I, the I itself is not a representation. It is, rather, an absolute, grounded on the strict identity of the one representing and the one represented (I = I). Within this “in-difference”, the “Voraussetzung der Verschiedenheit” (requirement of difference)—and with it all determinacy—is suspended. But Fichte himself considered this requirement to be constitutive of cognition.

Bestimmen heißt in der WissenschaftsLehre so viel als EINSCHRÄNKEN, und zwar auf eine gewiße REGION oder SPHÄRE in unserm WISSEN. […] [Dies ist] das REFLEXIONS-Gesez aller unserer Erkenntniß—nemlich; Nichts wird erkannt, was es sey, ohne uns das mit zu denken, was es nicht sey.

(Fichte 1978, pp. 32, 41)

In the Science of Knowledge, “to determine” means “TO LIMIT”, specifically, to limit to a certain REGION or SPHERE within our KNOWING. This is the law of REFLECTION of all our cognition: we cannot recognize what anything is, without at the same time thinking what it isn’t.

But isn’t the law of reflection constitutive for highest epistemic certainty, which is what Fichte ascribes to his absolute I? If this were so, then knowledge would not be absolute, but relative, dependent on an internal differentiation. But the thesis of the “Unmittelbarkeit” (immediacy) of knowledge directly contradicts such an internal differentiation. This is the question Hölderlin and Novalis posed to Fichte’s early version of the Wissenschaftslehre.

3.1. Hölderlin’s Criticism (1794–1795)

Hölderlin finds the cause for Fichte’s ambiguity in his concept of the absolute:

• On the one hand, the absolute is denied any relations (“absolutum est quid est omnibus relationibus absolutum”; the absolute is that which is detached from all relations);
• On the other, knowing is ascribed to the absolute. But knowing—according to Reinhold’s definition, which Fichte, too, did not reject—is an instance of representation, and self-knowledge is self-representation (The philosophical term for this is “reflection”). Self-representation consists in “being-for-oneself”, i.e., in a binary relationship that observes the requirement of difference (The I is only for the I30). And with that an inner, cleaving differentiation creeps into self-consciousness, contradicting its purported “immediacy”, while taking account of the just cited “REFLEXIONS-Gesez aller unserer Erkenntniß” (law of REFLECTION of all our cognition).

For to know means to determine—this was the basis for Fichte’s law of reflection—and, as just cited above, “In the Science of Knowledge, ‘to determine’ means ‘TO LIMIT,’ specifically, to limit to a certain REGION or SPHERE within our KNOWING”. And the same holds true for self-consciousness: if a particular thought—or even knowing—is to be associated with self-consciousness, then that thought must be in conformity with the requirement of difference. But precisely this requirement is to be suspended with respect to the absolute (which for that reason is called “an sich” [in itself] not “Ich” [I]).31 Absoluteness and consciousness (=Für-sich-sein [being-for-itself]) are mutually exclusive.

Hölderlin repeats this objection, which he had already developed in Waltershausen, in a letter to Hegel from 26 January 1795. Here he accuses Fichte of “Dogmatismus” (dogmatism)—a variant of “Transcendentismus” (transcendentism).32 Here is Hölderlin’s famous justification:

[S]ein [=Fichtes] absolutes Ich (= Spinozas Substanz) enthält alle Realität; es ist alles, u. außer ihm ist nichts;33 es gibt also für dieses abs[olute]. Ich kein Objekt, denn sonst wäre nicht alle Realität in ihm; ein Bewußtsein ohne Objekt ist aber nicht denkbar, und wenn ich selbst dieses Objekt bin, so bin ich als solches notwendig beschränkt […]; also ist in dem absoluten Ich kein Bewußtsein denkbar, als absolutes Ich hab ich kein Bewußtsein, und insofern ich kein Bewußtsein habe, insofern bin ich (für mich) nichts, also das absolute Ich ist (für mich) Nichts.34

So schrieb ich noch in Waltershausen,35 als ich seine ersten Blätter las, unmittelbar nach der Lektüre des Spinoza, meine Gedanken nieder; Fichte bestätiget mir.

(Hölderlin 1992b, p. 176)

His [Fichte’s] absolute I (=Spinoza’s substance) contains all reality; it is everything, and outside it there is nothing: therefore for this absolute I there is no object, for otherwise all reality would not be within it; but a consciousness without an object is not conceivable, and if I myself am this object then as such I am necessarily limited […]; therefore no consciousness is conceivable in the absolute I, as absolute I I have no consciousness, and insofar as I have no consciousness I am (for myself) nothing, therefore the absolute I is (for me) nothing.

These are the thoughts I wrote down while still in Waltershausen, when I read the first parts, immediately after reading Spinoza; Fichte confirms my (Hölderlin 2009, p. 48).

At this point a collector or auctioneer ripped out a part of the manuscript. Nevertheless, it is clear that at least one conversation took place where Fichte made some concessions to Hölderlin.36

In Urtheil und Seyn, Hölderlin goes a step further. Here, he argues that if the I must divide itself from itself for the sake of its determinacy, it must recognize itself “im entgegengesezten als dasselbe” (Hölderlin 1991, p. 156; also, in Hölderlin 1994, p. 503; emphasis MF; “in the opposition as one and the same”; Hölderlin 2009, p. 231). And there we find the de se constraint. But reflection—conceived as objectual representation—is unable to bring about this feat of identification. To do this requires being, which stands above identity. Hölderlin conceives of identity as a difference-sensitive relationship between “Subjekt (Ich) und […] Objekt (Ich)” (Hölderlin 1991, p. 156; also, in Hölderlin 1994, p. 503; “the subject [I] and the object [I]”; Hölderlin 2009, p. 231). In much the same vein, Novalis writes: “Identität ist ein subalterner Begriff” (Novalis 1965, p. 187, No. 247; “Identity is a subaltern concept”; Novalis 2003, p. 84).

3.2. Novalis’ Criticism in the Fichte-Studien

Very similarly, Novalis develops the de se constraint out of what he criticized as Fichte’s “Transzendentismus” (transcendentism). The beginning of his Fichte-Studien is entirely comparable to Hölderlin’s Waltershausen notes and Urtheil und Sein. The argument can be reconstructed with the following steps:37

• Pure “identity” precludes consciousness. For what is “rein” (pure) is “weder bezogen noch beziehbar” (Novalis 1965, p. 179, no. 234; “neither related nor relatable”; Novalis 2003, p. 77). Hence, it is non-relational.
• But consciousness has the constitution of a representation (or Vorstellung),38 which distinguishes what is represented from itself.
• Representations are semantic/semiotic minima (Whatever cannot be “dargestellt” [presented], i.e., “bezeichnet” [signified], through signs, is not conscious).
• For this reason, the identical cannot be signified or expressed directly, but only through a “Scheinsatz” (Novalis 1965, p. 104, no. 1; “illusory proposition”, Novalis 2003, p. 3).39

By “Scheinsatz” (illusory proposition), Novalis clearly does not mean that the principle of consciousness (Satz des Bewusstseins) is illusory. Rather, he wishes to say that its subject-predicate form (i.e., its propositional form) contradicts the content of non-relational identity (“a = a”); it contradicts “what is”. Identical being, undivided by any internal articulations, is falsified through an “imaginaires Trennen und Vereinigen” (imaginary dividing and uniting), whereby being becomes distorted into illusion: “[W]ir stellen es durch ein Nichtseyn, durch ein Nichtidentisches vor—Zeichen” (Novalis 1965, p. 104; “we represent it through its ‘not-being’ [what it is not], through a ‘not-identical’ [what is not identical to it]—a sign”; Novalis 2003, p. 3).

The explanation-avoiding formulation—“[…] es geschieht, was schon Ist” (Novalis 1965, p. 104; “what occurs, already is”; Novalis 2003, p. 3)—recurs later, now applied to reflection, which earlier had been characterized as signification-of-oneself, i.e., as a form of self-representation: “Was die Reflexion findet, scheint schon da zu seyn” (Novalis 1965, p. 112, no. 14; “What reflection finds, appears already to be there”; Novalis 2003, p. 12). In any other instance, what shows itself in reflection would not be something found, but invented; not cognition of something existing, but the result of brainwashing, a confabulation, or a self-deception.

Nevertheless, an illusion emerges insofar as reflection does produce a (mistaken, illusory) presentation of identity. I recall here the image of the “ersten Bezeichnende[n]” (first signifier), which not only paints itself, but, in so doing, does not forget that it “sich in der Stellung […] mahlt […], daß es sich mahlt” (Novalis 1965, p. 110; “[is painting itself] in the arrangement that it [the first signifier] itself paints” (Novalis 2003, p. 10). And it is precisely this “itself as itself” (the de se constraint) that reflection cannot explain on its own. Reflection cannot, by its own means, correct the illusion it itself produces. It presents as a counterplay of sign and signified, what in actuality is undivided (absolute) identity, which does not allow itself to be signified as such—or, in Hardenberg’s context—to come to consciousness or be made representable. This insight led Novalis to consider two recourses:

• If there might exist a non-objectual (a non-representational, a pre-reflective) consciousness (“Selbstgefühl”; feeling of self);
• And, if this path proved to be impassable, if reflection itself might have the means to correct the illusion that it produces through self-application, i.e., through reflection of reflection (“ordo inversus”).

3.2.1. On Point 1: “Selbstgefühl” (Self-Feeling)

Novalis’ introductory notes on identity and how signification distorts (i.e., converts into “illusion”) is followed by a new approach (if Mähl’s dating is correct) beginning with no. 15, which, curiously, Novalis places under the heading: “Unbestimmte Sätze” (Undetermined Propositions). Here, he considers how philosophy could have been given its most proper object (Gegenstand): the subject as subject, non-objectually:

Was könnte es wohl seyn?

Sie handelt von einem Gegenstande, der nicht gelernt wird. Wir müssen aber alle Gegenstände lernen—Also von gar keinem Gegenstande. Was gelernt wird muß doch verschieden seyn von dem Lernenden [“Voraussetzung der Verschiedenheit”, MF]. Was gelernt wird ist ein Gegenstand—also ist das Lernende kein Gegenstand. Könnte also die Filosofie vielleicht vom Lernenden handeln, also von uns, wenn wir Gegenstände lernen?

Die Filosofie ist aber selbst im Lernenden. Nun da wird sie Selbstbetrachtung seyn. Ey! wie fängt es der Lernende an sich selbst in dieser Operation zu belauschen. Er müßte sich also lernen—denn unter lernen verstehen wir überhaupt nichts, als den Gegenstand anschauen und ihn mit seinen Merckmale[n] uns einprägen. Es würde also wieder ein Gegenstand. Nein Selbstbetrachtung kann es nicht seyn, denn sonst wäre sie nicht das Verlangte. Es ist ein Selbstgefühl vielleicht. Was ist denn ein Gefühl?

/Die Filosofie ist ursprünglich ein Gefühl. Die Anschauungen dieses Gefühls begreifen die filosofischen Wissenschaften./

(Novalis 1965, p. 113, no. 15)

What could it possibly be?

It deals with an object that is not learned. But all objects must be learned by us.—Thus, it deals with no object. But what is learned must be distinct from the learner [“requirement of difference”, MF]. What is learned is an object—thus the learner cannot be an object. Could philosophy perhaps then deal with the learner, that is with us, when we learn about objects?

Philosophy, however, is itself within the learner. So now philosophy becomes self-observation. Aha! How the learner begins via this operation to eavesdrop on himself. He would thus have to learn about himself—because by [“]learning[“] we mean absolutely nothing but intuiting an object and impressing it along with its characteristics upon ourselves. It [the self] would thus become an object again. No, philosophy cannot be self-observation, because it would not then be what we are after. It is perhaps a self-feeling. What then is a feeling?

/Philosophy is originally a feeling. The philosophical sciences conceptualize the intuitions of this feeling./

(Novalis 2003, p. 12 f.)

In what follows, Novalis defines “feeling” as a kind of receptivity for being, as was alluded to above. Feeling is a kind of “Nichtwissen” (not-knowing), a “Geseztseyn [bedingt, MF] durch ein Nichtsetzen” (Novalis 1965, p. 125, no. 31; a being posited [contingent, MF] on a not-positing). Novalis accords to “feeling” Jacobi’s “Urseyn” (“original being”),40 i.e., what he had earlier called “Identität” (identity). Thus, this knowledge is not intellectual, but passive (as is sensate knowledge). According to Kant’s definition, “Intellectuel ist das, dessen Begrif ein Thun ist” (AA XVII, p. 447, no. 4182; The concept of intellectual is activity). But Novalis’ insight is not grounded in spontaneity/self-activity. Fichte’s later talk of activity into which an eye has been set41 follows in the footsteps of Novalis’ insight.

Now it is revealing that Novalis did not follow this pre-reflectivity track any further. He does not seem to have been convinced that there is a direct path allowing reflection to be circumvented: “Das Gefühl kann sich nicht selbst fühlen” (Novalis 1965, p. 114, no. 15; “Feeling cannot feel itself”; Novalis 2003, p. 13);42 “[Das Gefühl] läßt sich nur in der Reflexion betrachten” (Novalis 1965, p. 114, no. 15; “[Feeling] can only be observed in reflection”; Novalis 2003, p. 13). And he is just as unconvinced of operations involving an “intellectualen Anschauung” (intellectual intuition). An intellectual intuition cannot be considered actual (presentable in signs), that is, representable consciousness. From the perspective of reflection, the intellectual intuition “zerfällt in ihre zwei Theile—in das Gefühl und in die Reflexion—denn aus diesen ist sie zusammengesezt” (Novalis 1965, p. 117, no. 19; “separates into its two parts—into feeling and into reflection, because it is put together from these”; Novalis 2003, p. 16). Thus, Novalis broke off here his—promising and original—investigation and went down a different path.43

3.2.2. On Point 2: The “Ordo Inversus” (Inverted Order)44 of Reflection

The “ordo inversus” of reflection led to the decisive turn in Novalis’ thinking, and it demonstrates in a highly speculative manner how he remained caught in Reinhold’s representation model. Novalis writes:

[M]an will Nichtreflexion durch Reflexion darstellen und kommt eben dadurch nie zur Nichtreflexion hin […].

(Novalis 1965, p. 122, no. 25)

Es [das Gefühl] läßt sich nur in der Reflexion betrachten—[aber] der Geist des Gefühls [= das in ihm sich eigentlich Offenbarende: die “Identität” oder das “Urseyn”, MF] ist da heraus. Aus dem Produkt [nämlich der intellectualen Anschauung, MF] läßt sich [aber] nach dem Schema der Reflexion auf den Producenten schließen.

(Novalis 1965, p. 114, no. 15)

[O]ne wants to present what is not reflection through reflection and precisely through it never arrives at what is not reflection […].

(Novalis 2003, p. 21)

It [feeling] can only be observed in reflection—[but] the spirit of feeling [= that which actually reveals itself within feeling: “identity” or “Urseyn” (original being), MF] is then gone. But from the product [i.e., the intellectual intuition, MF] the producer can be inferred based on the schema of reflection.

(Novalis 2003, p. 13; section in italics modified by translator)

Here, Novalis is following the motto: “Die Wunde heilt der Speer nur, der sie schlug” (Wagner 1911, vol. 10, p. 375; The wound is healed only by the spear that inflicted it). The distortion and reversal caused by reflection can only be represented for consciousness through yet another reversal.45 “Reflection” literally means mirroring, and everything that is mirrored is reversed both from left to right and from front to back.46 Novalis distinguishes between what is represented, which he designates as “in der That” (in fact), “das Seyn” (being), “primo” (primary), “an sich” (in itself), or “im Grunde” (at base), and the representing mirror, which he designates as “scheinbar” (apparent), “im Bilde” (in the picture), “secundario” (secondary), “für mich” (for me), and “im Bewußtseyn” (within consciousness).

Es wechselt Bild und Seyn. Das Bild ist immer das Verkehrte vom Seyn. Was rechts an der Person ist, ist links im Bilde.

(Novalis 1965, p. 142, no. 63)47

Der relative Gesichtspunct dreht immer die Sache um […].

(Novalis 1965, p. 122, no. 25)

Reflexion wird hier, was Gefühl ist—Gefühl, was Reflexion ist—sie tauschen ihre Rollen.

(Novalis 1965, p. 127, no. 33)

It interchanges image and being. The image is always the inversion of being. What is to the right of the person is to the left in the image.

(Novalis 2003, p. 40 [text in italics modified by translator])

The relative point of view always turns the thing around […].

(Novalis 2003, p. 21)

Here reflection becomes what feeling is—feeling becomes what reflection is—they switch their roles.

(Novalis 2003, p. 26)

In short, consciousness is:

[…] nicht, was e[s] vorstellt, und stellt nicht vor, was e[s] ist.

(Novalis 1965, p. 226, no. 330)

[…] not what it represents, and does not represent what it is.

(Novalis 2003, p. 123)

Using alternate terminology (the “Zustand” [state], which earlier was called the “Gegensatz” [opposite], now corresponds to “Gefühl” [feeling], while the “Gegenstand” [object] now corresponds to the content of reflection) Novalis subsequently writes:

Der Erstere [= Gegenstand] läßt sich nur im Zweyten [= Zustand] erkennen—der Zweyte nur d[urch] d[en] Ersten begründen.

(Novalis 1965, p. 217, no. 305; italics in original)

Der Gegenstand sezt einen Gegensatz [ein durch Selbstgefühl erschlossenes, ungegenständliches oder urständliches Gefühl, MF] voraus. Der Gegensatz kann aber nur als Gegenstand in die Reflexion kommen.

(Novalis 1965, p. 196, no. 278)

The first [=object] can only be cognized in the second [= state]—the second [can be] grounded only through the first.

(Novalis 2003, p. 115)

The object presupposes an opposite [i.e., a non-objectual, original-state feeling disclosed through self-feeling, MF]. But the opposite can only come into reflection as an object.

(Novalis 2003, p. 94)

When finite consciousness readies itself for the unlimited, this appears to finite consciousness as a “scheinbares Schreiten vom Beschränkten zum Unbeschränkten” (Novalis 1965, p. 117, no. 19; “apparent progress from limited to unlimited”; Novalis 2003, p. 16).48 Only a doubly applied reflection can mirror the original relationships in their right form. Now the movement—as “Resultat der Reflexion” (result of reflection)—appears correctly as “scheinbares [weil in Erscheinung tretendes, dem Bewusstsein zugängliches, MF] Schreiten vom Unbeschränkten zum Beschränkten”.

(Novalis 1965, p. 117, no. 19; “apparent [because appearing, becoming accessible to consciousness, MF] progress from the unlimited to the limited”; Novalis 2003, p. 16)49

4. Caught in Reinhold’s Representation Model

Both Hölderlin and Novalis wrestled with a problem resulting from their being caught in Reinhold’s representation model. May we conclude that both men found a viable solution for the problem they analyzed with such acumen? No. Both considered consciousness to be the result of a differentiated self-confrontation of representation. They successfully demonstrated the unfitness of this model for explaining self-consciousness, and they sought to compensate for its explicit deficits—immanently—through two recourses:

4.1. Hölderlin’s Path

The reduplicative self-knowledge of consciousness (“sich als sich” [itself as itself], the de se constraint), requires a ground of unity and knowledge (“Seyn” [being] or “Identität” [identity]) that transcends consciousness, and which reflection does not create out of itself. This ground must be postulated—much like an idea in the Kantian sense. At the end, this becomes—along with the flight to aesthetics—his solution. But this evasion is not plausible, because the “transzendenter Grund” (transcendent ground), as Schleiermacher would later call it,50 also must somehow be grasped as the subject’s own ground. In other words, the transcendent ground, too, founders on the de se constraint.

4.2. Novalis’ Path

Reflection, which distorts one’s perception of this ground of unity, must be turned against itself. Through inversion of inversion the “An-sich” (in itself) of self-consciousness is indirectly disclosed. Hölderlin followed Novalis on this path during his Frankfurt years.

This path, too, is not convincing. How am I to recognize indirectly through negation of negation what never was presented independently/positively in direct knowledge? Novalis himself said: “Man muß den Begrif schon wesentlich im Kopfe haben—den man lernen soll” (Novalis 1965, p. 263, no. 535; “One must already essentially have the concept in mind—that one is supposed to be learning”; Novalis 2003, p. 160).

5. An Alternative?

What might an alternative that avoids both paths look like? I can give only a few brief indications here, for now I am venturing off the safe byway of text interpretation and historical analysis.

It is my conviction that the problem of consciousness must be decoupled from that of thought; and, since knowledge is a form of thought, it must also be decoupled from knowledge.51 Hölderlin and Novalis, however, both think in the tradition of Kant and Fichte, who identified self-consciousness with I-consciousness and understood this to be something cognitively quite demanding. Kant’s “oberster Grundsatz” (highest principle) is “Ich denke” (I think), and from it he derived the categories for the faculty of understanding—of thought or judgment.

Indeed, cognitions are intentional, transitive, or representational. They articulate themselves through cognitive verbs that draw an inner accusative object along after themselves, typically a proposition. This means, first, that the contents of both clauses are different. And second, thoughts can, but need not be, propositional attitudes (Einstellungen) (Thus, in the present moment we are not conscious of a whole range of habitualized convictions, wishes, preferences, etc.; thoughts “come to us”, “occur to us”, as we say; they are not at the beck and call of consciousness). But we are conscious—necessarily conscious—of non-conceptual experiences, within which, typically, we have some sort of feeling.52 But the syntactic structure of these experiences is neither asymmetrical nor transitive. They have no “I” as carrier, but, rather, are initially disclosed to themselves (not their owner). In other words, they are not objects of a representation (Thus, Novalis was following a correct intuition when he at first distinguished feelings from reflected attitudes, although he then brought them into epistemic dependency on thought, on “reflection”53).

In contrast to objects, intransitive states of consciousness do not obscure themselves as empirical objects do, but rather are “restlos” (entirely) or “adäquat” (adequately) accessible (Husserl 1980, p. 355). We find ourselves “within them”—or we are, to use an old turn of phrase, “ihrer inne” [aware of them]. The phenomenon is presented to us, “as it shows itself to itself”. In Husserl’s words, “Zwischen dem erlebten oder bewußten Inhalt und dem Erlebnis selbst ist kein Unterschied” (Husserl 1980, p. 352; Between the experienced or conscious content and the experience itself there is no distinction). There is neither need of a dative case “owner” nor of a “Für-sich” (for itself) in order to signal the unity to which both are disclosed.

Henrich, to whom we owe so many insights into Hölderlin’s foundational philosophical thought, spoke in 1970/71, in response to Aron Gurwitsch, of an anonymous field of consciousness without any knowing self-reflection. It is completely empty, i.e., it has no intrinsic characteristics that could cloud or distort its view of the world. Certainly, manifoldness and changing content are an external condition of consciousness (“sentire semper idem, et non sentire, ad idem recidunt”; always to feel the same and not to feel at all, amount to the same thing54). However, that is not a characteristic of consciousness, but rather of its content. In other words, the structural differentiation of the field of consciousness is a characteristic of the field, not of consciousness. Consciousness itself is empty (Novalis, too, could subscribe to this insight, as we have seen above).

We articulate the knowledge that this transparent field has “of itself” with the use of reflexive pronouns. But they are entirely superfluous, indeed incommensurate. For consciousness does not have the character of an inner “confrontation” or opposition, as Castañeda (1999, p. 248) liked to say; it does not have the character of “Für-sich-Sein” (being-for-itself), as Hölderlin insisted. The expression “non-confrontational” should call attention to the fact that language takes us all for a ride when it allows us to speak of “sensations of pain”, as if the pain needed an added, pain-“capturing” sensation in order to hurt. We are, to return to the dated phrase used above, “aware of” an experience [eines Erlebnisses ‘inne’], and, using this formulation, we can even avoid the obligatory reflexive pronoun. Pothast, who also emphasizes the “non-confrontational” character of consciousness (Pothast 1987, pp. 21 f., 32 ff.), speaks somewhat mysteriously, but illuminatingly, of its “Innengrund” (inner ground; Pothast 1998, p. 108). In his dissertation, “Über einige Fragen der Selbstbeziehung” (On several questions regarding self-reference), he even suggested conceiving of consciousness as a “gänzlich objektive[n] Prozeß, in dem Sinn, daß kein Moment eines wissenden Selbstbezugs daran auftritt” (Pothast 1971, p. 76; completely objective process, in the sense that at no moment does any knowing self-reference occur). In 1968 Sydney Shoemaker had already pointed out that the way we become acquainted with experiences is not “objectual” (Shoemaker 1984a, p. 14 f.; 1984b, p. 104 f.). And Volker Beeh and others have shown that we can—and should—free our speech, and indeed all of logic, from every recourse to reflectivity (Beeh 2007; Wehmeier 2012; Pardey 1994; Frank 2022a, 2022b).

Within this anonymous, literally pre-reflective field, thoughts containing “I” do, of course, occur, and they have a structure that is specifically distinct from that of experiences. But what makes these thoughts conscious is not, as Fichte, Novalis, and Hölderlin believed, some sort of relationship or differentiation of the representation to itself or to the subject and object. Rather, it appears that the knowledge consciousness has of itself—and here, once again, we make use of a reflexive formulation (so difficult to avoid)—is a completely relationless mental occurrence, whose structuring (if this designation can be deemed appropriate) neither the philosophy of consciousness nor brain science has been able to accomplish. I have made some suggestions in this direction (Frank 2022a, 2022b).

6. Overview of Novalis’ and Hölderlin’s Later Attempts at Solutions

But I am straying into another essay that no longer has to do with an explanation of Hölderlin’s and Hardenberg’s philosophical beginnings in 1795, so I will break off that discussion and offer, instead, a brief look at the solutions both men put forward in writings, unpublished during their lifetimes, to the problem I sketched above. My impression is that both take refuge in aesthetic surrogate-solutions or return to a Kantian concept of ideas, where possessing the absolute yields finally to a notion of infinite approximation to an idea in the Kantian sense. And these solutions, too, are not satisfying. But first, allow me to summarize both briefly.

6.1. Novalis’ Aesthetic Solution

Novalis’ solution is to exploit Kant’s famous definition of the “aesthetic idea” in the Kritik der Urteilskraft (Critique of Judgment) as a plenitude of sense unable to be subjugated to a concept,55 reinterpreting it to mean the indirect presentation of what—by means of reflection—is unpresentable. The “aesthetic idea” is the counterpart to the rational idea, for which no intuition can be adequate (it is “indemonstrable”). Aesthetic ideas, on the other hand, are “unexpoundable”, i.e., no concept can exhaust their plenitude of sense.56 Kant demonstrates in §59 of the Kritik der Urteilskraft that rational ideas (such as that of the “moral good”), too, are capable of being presented indirectly, or what he calls “symbolically”. The sensible unpresentability of reason attains presentation—indirectly and chiastically—through the conceptual inexhaustibility of the sensible. The semantic resistance of aesthetic content requires exertion on the part of the recipient in overcoming his/her feeling of displeasure. In other words (and this is in distinction to Hölderlin), the work of art offers no positive solution, but rather presents itself as an appeal: as a never-to-be-completed task of interpreting. I call to mind two well-known statements by Novalis:

Vom Unerreichbaren, seinem Caracter nach, läßt sich keine Erreichung denken—es ist gleichsam nur der idealische Summenausdruck der ganzen Reihe […].

Die höchsten Kunstwercke sind [darum, MF] schlechthin ungefällig—Es sind Ideale, die uns nur approximando gefallen können—und sollen—ästhetische Imperative .

(Novalis 1968, p. 413, no. 745, see also p. 413, no. 748)

There can be no thought of attaining the unattainable in its full character; it is, as it were, merely the ideal expression of the sum of the whole series […].

The highest works of art are [for this reason, MF] utterly unpleasing—they are ideals that can—and should—please us only by approximation—aesthetic imperatives.

This inability on the part of reflection to subjugate the ground of knowledge means that it can be presented only indirectly, symbolically. Because this solution is not “tautegorical”,57 but can succeed in the terms of a different system of representation, Friedrich Schlegel calls it “allegorical”: i.e., saying something different, meaning something different (álla kaì állôs agoreúein).58 Novalis best hits the nerve of the problem, wherein the cognitive–theoretical dilemma is transferred to an aesthetic dissolution, with the following notes. We can agree, he writes, that:

Wenn der Caracter eines gegebenen Problems Unauflöslichkeit ist, so lösen wir dasselbe, wenn wir seine Unauflöslichkeit [als solche, MF] darstellen.“

(Novalis 1968, p. 376, no. 612)

[Die Poësie…] stellt das Undarstellbare dar (ibid., p. 685, no. 671).

When a given problem is characterized by insolvability, […] we solve it by presenting its insolvability [as such].

Poetry presents the unpresentable.

Here, we see a distinct difference to Hölderlin: Hölderlin considers the “infinite” in the artwork to be actually—i.e., symbolically, not allegorically—realized.59 Novalis allots to the work of art, too, the character of an “unpleasant” task in the form of an “aesthetic imperative”. He does not offer quietism, but, rather, demands work. He does not soothe with his solution, but rather arouses the feeling of an eternally dissatisfied “Sehnsucht nach dem Unendlichen” (longing for the infinite), as Friedrich Schlegel freely and aptly translated the word “philosophy”.60 This longing was also known to Hölderlin, whom Hegel likely had in mind along with the Schlegels and Novalis—and Romanticism in general—when criticizing in his Phänomenologie des Geistes (Phenomenology of Mind) the persistent state of “unglückliches Bewusstsein” (unhappy consciousness): “[…] immer/Ins Ungebundene gehet eine Sehnsucht” (Mnemosyne, Hölderlin 1992a, p. 364; “And always/There is a yearning that seeks the unbound”; Hölderlin 2004, p. 587).

To be sure, the paradoxes of a representational approach to self-consciousness were all but forgotten in the years following the Fichte-Studien, when Novalis was pursuing an aesthetic solution. From then on, he was concerned with the presentation of the unpresentable, which the idealists called “the absolute”.

6.2. Hölderlin’s Aesthetic Solution

In contrast to Novalis, Hölderlin did not avoid the old conundrum of self-consciousness when he sought a solution in the realm of poetry. He was still on the trail of the de se problem he had so discerningly described in Urtheil und Seyn. But, in 1800, Hölderlin did, in fact, transfer the solution of the (cognitive–theoretical) de se problem onto poetry.

This is demonstrated most clearly in the long annotation in the “Verfahrungsweise des poëtischen Geistes” (On the operation of the poetic spirit, Hölderlin 1994, pp. 540–42). Here, Hölderlin discusses the “subjektive Natur” (subjective nature), or what, a few lines earlier, he had called the “ursprüngliche poetische Individualität, das poetische Ich” (Hölderlin 1994, p. 539; “the original poetic individuality, the poetic I”; Hölderlin 2009, p. 287). To state the issue far too succinctly, in this text, a state of unconscious—pre-reflective—“Innigkeit” (inwardness), which Hölderlin also calls “subjektive Natur” (subjective nature) or the “Alleinseyn” (solitude) of spirit (Hölderlin 1994, pp. 540, 542) is contrasted to a state of “reell” (real), “direct”, or “gerade” (direct) opposition (Hölderlin 1994, pp. 541, 535, 533). The former (in which just a hint of opposition does not disrupt unity, and, therefore, is called “harmonisch” [harmonic]61) is unconscious, the latter, conscious. But only the former guarantees unity; the latter destroys it.

Hölderlin first demonstrates that the opposition within self-consciousness occurs in a manner that is either real (i.e., direct), in which case unity is unknowable, or it occurs in a non-real, merely harmonic manner, in which case unity also escapes our consciousness. Lacking materialization-through-opposition, unity is “unfühlbar” (intangible/unfeelable). We recall Fichte’s “Reflexionsgesetz alles unseres Erkennens” (law of reflection of all our cognition)—and note that Hölderlin’s “Fühlen” (feeling) here is a mode of cognition—, according to which all cognition is bound to the differentiation of the field of consciousness, i.e., to the rule of determination-through-opposition.62 Neither the I nor self-consciousness can escape this, since, in the state of solitude, the spirit does not feel itself,63 as it does for Novalis.

The solution Hölderlin puts forward with such confidence is obviously circular:

Setze dich mit freier Wahl in harmonische Entgegensetzung mit einer äußeren Sphäre, so wie du in dir selber in harmonischer Entgegensetzung bist, von Natur, aber unerkennbarer weise [sic!] so lange du in dir selbst [im Zustande des geistigen Alleinseins, MF] bleibst.

(Hölderlin 1994, p. 543; third italicization by MF)

Set yourself by free choice in harmonic opposition with an outer sphere, just as by nature you are in harmonic opposition within yourself, but unrecognizably so, as long as you remain within yourself [in the state of solitude of spirit, MF].

(See also Hölderlin 2009, p. 290)

For, what is merely “harmonically” opposed attains only an inner-subjective other, i.e., merely the other of itself, the spiritual other, and so pursues merely a “leeres leichtes Schattenspiel” (Hölderlin 1994, p. 527; a light and empty shadow play) and falls short of the real, material opposition that establishes consciousness. But from this opposition I am able to draw my selfhood, only if formerly I had already come to know it without being hindered by the law of reflection of all our cognition.

But Hölderlin has a second iron in the fire that does justice to the law of reflection. He calls it the “hyperbolische Verfahren” (Hölderlin 1994, p. 532; hyperbolic operation). It is recognizably similar to Novalis’ operation with the “ordo inversus”, although Hölderlin applies it only to poetics. The hyperbolic operation serves to compensate for the “loss” that ideal unity suffers through real externalization. The distorting reflection retracts itself through a second reflection and achieves, thereby, an indirect presentation of the original state (which, as such, is unpresentable). In this manner, the unity of matter is made “fühlbar” (tangible) through the change in form, and vice versa (Hölderlin 1994, pp. 527 ff., 532 ff.; Hölderlin 2009, pp. 277 ff; 282 ff.) Hölderlin’s concept of the “Wechsel der Töne” (Hölderlin 1994, pp. 524–26; alternation of tones; Hölderlin 2009, p. 307 f.) rests on this self-correcting presentation in its opposite. No tone can present itself immediately; rather, it must do so in a tone different from itself, regaining itself, however, from this estranged form through a further, corrective externalization. Thus, the naïve is apprehended only in distinction to the heroic, the heroic only in distinction to the idealic, etc.64

Can this highly speculative, scarcely explicable idea offer a way out of the dilemma of the theory of self-consciousness? What Hölderlin has to say is so inordinately complicated in its detail, and quite possibly at the end so muddled, that it really cannot be subjected to criticism. I know of no reconstruction of the text that provides a consistent interpretation. I have made do here with presenting his basic idea, certainly an ingenious one, in extremely simplified form.

If I am not mistaken, this second proposed solution commits the same petitio principii as the first (also committed by Novalis). If, as Hölderlin expressly emphasizes, I am to apprehend the real externalization of the I onto its object as a “harmonic” externalization65, i.e., as an “idealic” externalization of the I, then I must have already come to know this I prior to its externalization. As to how this is to occur, Hölderlin does not provide an explanation. On the contrary, he goes to great lengths to demonstrate the utter impossibility of such a task. And, although he warns against it, he appears to slash the problem like a Gordian knot “mit dem Schwert” (Hölderlin 1994, p. 541; with the sword; see Hölderlin 2009, p. 288). My suspicion is confirmed: like Novalis, Hölderlin, too, is bewitched by Reinhold’s legacy: the representation model of consciousness. Even in his poetics he has not freed himself from it.

7. Summary and Conclusions

7.1. Novalis

If I am not mistaken, Novalis takes three steps in his examination of Fichte’s “I” (with which he, like Hölderlin, identifies the self-conscious; see Frank 2019a).

• First, he convinces himself, as does Hölderlin, of the cognitive transcendence of “being” and considers how this thought could be indirectly mediated to consciousness (through “Selbstgefühl” [feeling of the self], “ordo inversus”).
• He then lets the separata—feeling/reflection, matter/form, synthetic/analytic I, state/object (Zustand–Gegenstand), and essence/characteristic—entangle themselves in an almost Hegelian dialectic.
• He cuts off this attempt abruptly and thereafter views the notion of an absolute as a “Kantian idea”, the real pursuit of which would lead us into “die Räume des Unsinns” (Novalis 1965, p. 252, no. 466; “the spaces of nonsense”, Novalis 2003, p. 150). With emphatic redundancy, he states: “Wir suchen also ein Unding” (Novalis 1965, p. 255, no. 476; “We are thus looking for a non-thing”, Novalis 2003, p. 153); “Alles Suchen nach der Ersten ist Unsinn—es ist regulative Idee (Novalis 1965, p. 254, no. 472; All searching for the First is nonsense—it is a regulative idea).

Toward the end of the Fichte-Studies, Novalis again takes up the question with which he had first introduced his thoughts on the feeling of self, employing his characteristic diction:

Was thu ich, indem ich filosofire? ich denke über einen Grund nach. [Der dürfte nicht relativ sein, sonst entstünde ein Grund-Suche-Regress, MF] […] Alles Filosofiren muß also bey einem absoluten Grunde endigen. Wenn dieser nun nicht gegeben wäre, wenn dieser Begriff eine Unmöglichkeit enthielte—so wäre der Trieb zu Filosofiren eine unendliche Thätigkeit—und darum ohne Ende, weil ein ewiges Bedürfniß nach einem absoluten Grunde vorhanden wäre, das doch nur relativ gestillt werden könnte—und darum nie aufhören würde.

(Probably written July 1796; Novalis 1965, p. 269, no. 566)

What do I do when I philosophize? I reflect upon a ground [This ground cannot be relative, otherwise a ground-search-regress occurs, MF.] […]. All philosophizing must therefore end in an absolute ground. Now if this were not given, if this concept contained an impossibility—then the drive to philosophize would be an unending activity—and without end because there would be an eternal urge for an absolute ground that can be satisfied only relatively—and that would therefore never cease.

(Novalis 2003, p. 167)

And, a year later, he notes tersely:

Alles Absolute muß aus der Welt hinaus ostraciren. In der Welt muß man mit der Welt leben.

(Novalis 1965, p. 395, no. 55)

All that is Absolute must ostracize out of the world. In the world one must live with the world.

But in such radical statements we no longer sense any inclination on Novalis’ part to solve the problem of self-consciousness.

7.2. Hölderlin

Hölderlin, too, retreated to the Kantian idea of infinite approximation to the absolute, which, as such, cannot be comprehended. But he appears to have adopted this notion only for cognition/knowledge. In the beauty of art, however, the absolute becomes an occurrence. On 4 September 1795, he wrote to Schiller:

[I]ch suche mir die Idee eines unendlichen Progresses der Philosophie zu entwickeln, ich suche zu zeigen, daß die unnachläßliche Forderung, die an jedes System gemacht werden muß, die Vereinigung des Subjects und Objects in einem absoluten—Ich oder wie man es nennen will—zwar ästhetisch, in der intellektualen Anschauung, theoretisch aber nur durch eine unendliche Annäherung möglich ist, wie die Annäherung des Quadrats zum Zirkel.

(Hölderlin 1992b, p. 203)

I am attempting to work out for myself the idea of an infinite progress in philosophy by showing that the unremitting demand that must be made of any system, the union of subject and object in an absolute... I or whatever one wants to call it, though possible aesthetically, in an act of intellectual intuition, is theoretically possible only through endless approximation, like the approximation of a square to a circle.

(Hölderlin 2009, p. 62)

This limitation of infinite approximation applies to the absolute only within knowledge, not “aesthetically” and not to its mysterious presentation in the “intellectuale Anschauung” (intellectual intuition), which Hölderlin apparently did not consider to be an attainable epistemic state (and which plays no role in his later aesthetic writings, just as it does not in Novalis’ later notes). But, as concerns the inaccessibility of the absolute for knowledge, the parallels to Novalis extend right into their metaphors:

Dis ließ sich ein absolutes Postulat nennen. Alles Suchen nach Einem Princip wär also wie ein Versuch die Quadratur des Zirkels zu finden./Perpetuum mobile. Stein der Weisen./Negative Erkenntniß/

(Novalis 1965, p. 270, no. 566)

This could be called an absolute postulate. All searching for a single principle would be like the attempt to square the circle./Perpetual motion./Philosopher’s stone./Negative cognition./

(Novalis 2003, p. 168)66

However, within the work of art, Hölderlin does not limit the manifestation of the absolute in any way, not even with caveats such as “only symbolically” or “indirectly”—as both Novalis and Friedrich Schlegel do.

Around the same time as the letter to Schiller, Hölderlin wrote the short sketch Hermokrates an Cephalus (May/June 1795; Hermocrates to Cephalus), where he notes:

Ich glaubte sonst immer, der Mensch bedürfe für sein Wissen, wie für sein Handeln eines unendlichen Fortschritts, einer grenzenlosen Zeit, um dem grenzenlosen Ideale sich zu nähern; ich nannte die Meinung, als ob die Wissenschaft in einer bestimmten Zeit vollendet werden könnte, oder vollendet wäre, einen szientivischen Quietismus, der Irrtum wäre, in jedem Falle, er mochte sich bei einer individuell bestimmten Grenze begnügen, oder die Grenze überhaupt verleugnen, wo sie doch war, aber nicht sein sollte.

(Hölderlin 1994, p. 498)

I have always believed that for its knowledge as for its actions mankind needed an infinite progress, an unbounded time, in order to approach the boundless ideal; I called the opinion that science could be completed or was completed at a particular time scientistic quietism; there will always be error, whether it contents itself with an individually determined boundary or simply denies a boundary that is in fact there, even though it ought not to be (Hölderlin 2009, p. 233).

This might well be a fragment from the contribution Hölderlin was working on for Niethammer’s Journal. The letter format suggests this (Hölderlin believed the letter was the appropriate genre for philosophical expositions and successfully encouraged Schelling to follow suit in his correspondence with him in 1795 [Strack 2013, pp. 13–18]), as does the Kantian, anti-foundationalist line of argument. While Hermocrates and Cephalus are figures from the Platonic dialogues,67 the second name (Greek for “head”) points more specifically to Niethammer himself, who was known as “das Köpfchen” (the little head) among Schiller’s circle, and to whom members of the Reinhold circle ascribed “extraordinary intelligence”.68

And so, we have come full circle with the traces of Niethammer’s influence on Hardenberg’s and Hölderlin’s philosophical beginnings. This influence—including the legacy of Reinhold’s representation model—is visible well into the late thought of both authors, even if we observe a lessening of Novalis’ interest in the clarification of the structure of self-consciousness. But of course, this interest was not awakened by Niethammer, but by Fichte.