VOLUME XV SLICE VI Justinian II. to Kells (continued 7)

Thus, on the one hand, the individualist conception, when carried out to its full extent, leads to the total negation of all real cognition. If the real system of things, to which conscious experience has reference, be regarded as standing in casual relation to this experience there is no conceivable ground for the extension to reality of the notions which somehow are involved in thought. The same result is apparent, on the other hand, when we consider the theory of knowledge implied in the Leibnitzian individualism. The metaphysical conception of the monads, each of which is the universe in nuce, presents insuperable difficulties when the connexion or interdependence of the monads is in question, and these difficulties obtrude themselves when the attempt is made to work out a consistent doctrine of cognition. For the whole mass of cognisable fact, the mundus intelligibilis, is contained impliciter in each monad, and the several modes of apprehension can only be regarded as so many stages in the developing consciousness of the monad. Sense and understanding, real connexion of facts and analysis of notions, are not, therefore, distinct in kind, but differ only in degree. The same fundamental axioms, the logical principles of identity and sufficient reason, are applicable in explanation of all given propositions. It is true that Leibnitz himself did not work out any complete doctrine of knowledge, but in the hands of his successors the theory took definite shape in the principle that the whole work of cognition is in essence analytical. The process of analysis might be complete or incomplete. For finite intelligences there was an inevitable incompleteness so far as knowledge of matters of fact was concerned. In respect to them, the final result was found in a series of irreducible notions or categories, the prima possibilia, the analysis and elucidation of which was specifically the business of philosophy or metaphysics.

It will be observed that, in the Leibnitzian as in the empirical individualism, the fundamental notion is still that of the abstract separation of the thinking subject from the materials of conscious experience. From this separation arise all the difficulties in the effort to develop the notion systematically, and in tracing the history of Kant’s philosophical progress we are able to discern the gradual perception on his part that here was to be found the ultimate cause of the perplexities which became apparent in considering the subordinate doctrines of the system. The successive essays which have already been enumerated as composing Kant’s precritical work are not to be regarded as so many imperfect sketches of the doctrines of the Kritik, nor are we to look in them for anticipations of the critical view. They are essentially tentative, and exhibit with unusual clearness the manner in which the difficulties of a received theory force on a wider and more comprehensive view. There can be no doubt that some of the special features of the Kritik are to be found in these precritical essays, e.g. the doctrine of the Aesthetik is certainly foreshadowed in the Dissertation of 1770; the Kritik, however, is no patchwork, and what appears in the Dissertation takes an altogether new form when it is wrought into the more comprehensive conception of the later treatise.

The particular problem which gave the occasion to the first of the precritical writings is, in an imperfect or particular fashion, the fundamental question to which the Kritik is an answer. What is the nature of the distinction between knowledge gained by analysis of notions and knowledge of matters of fact? Kant seems never to have been satisfied with the Wolffian identification of logical axioms and of the principle of sufficient reason. The tract on the False Subtlety of the Four Syllogistic Figures, in which the view of thought or reason as analytic is clearly expressed, closes with the significant division of judgments into those which rest upon the logical axioms of identity and contradiction and those for which no logical ground can be shown. Such immediate or indemonstrable judgments, it is said, abound in our experience. They are, in fact, as Kant presently perceived, the foundations for all judgments regarding real existence. It was impossible that the question regarding their nature and legitimacy and their distinction from analytic judgments should not present itself to him. The three tracts belonging to the years 1763-1764 bring forward in the sharpest fashion the essential opposition between the two classes of judgments. In the Essay on Negative Quantities, the fundamental thought is the total distinction in kind between logical opposition (the contradictoriness of notions, which Kant always viewed as formed, definite products of thought) and real opposition. For the one adequate explanation is found in the logical axiom of analytical thinking; for the other no such explanation is to be had. Logical ground and real ground are totally distinct. “I can understand perfectly well,” says Kant, “how a consequence follows from its reason according to the law of identity, since it is discoverable by mere analysis of the notion contained in it.... But how something follows from another thing and not according to the law of identity, this I should gladly have made clear to me.... How shall I comprehend that, since something is, something else should be?” Real things, in short, are distinct existences, and, as distinct, not necessarily or logically connected in thought. “I have,” he proceeds, “reflected on the nature of our knowledge in relation to our judgment of reason and consequent, and I intend to expound fully the result of my reflections. It follows from them that the relation of a real ground to that which is thereby posited or denied cannot be expressed by a judgment but only by means of a notion, which by analysis may certainly be reduced to yet simpler notions of real grounds, but yet in such a way that the final resort of all our cognition in this regard must be found in simple and irreducible notions of real grounds, the relation of which to their consequents cannot be made clear.”

The striking similarity between Kant’s expressions in this Essay and the remarks with which Hume introduces his analysis of the notion of cause has led to the supposition that at this period of his philosophical career Kant was definitely under the influence of the earlier empirical thinker. Consideration of the whole passage is quite sufficient to show the groundlessness of this supposition. The difficulty with which Kant is presented was one arising inevitably from reflection upon the Leibnitzian theory of knowledge, and the solution does not in any way go beyond that theory. It is a solution, in fact, which must have been impossible had the purport of Hume’s empirical doctrine been present to Kant’s mind. He is here at the point at which he remained for many years, accepting without any criticism certain fundamental notions as required for real cognition. His ideal of metaphysic is still that of complete analysis of given notions. No glimmering of the further question, Whence come these notions and with what right do we apply them in cognition? is yet apparent. Any direct influence from Hume must be referred to a later period in his career.

The prize essay On the Principles of Natural Theology and Morals brings forward the same fundamental opposition—though in a special form. Here, for the first time, appears definitely the distinction between synthesis and analysis, and in the distinction is found the reason for the superior certainty and clearness of mathematics as opposed to philosophy. Mathematics, Kant thinks, proceeds synthetically, for in it the notions are constructed. Metaphysics, on the other hand, is analytical in method; in it the notions are given, and by analysis they are cleared up. It is to be observed that the description of mathematics as synthetic is not an anticipation of the critical doctrine on the same subject. Kant does not, in this place, raise the question as to the reason for assuming that the arbitrary syntheses of mathematical construction have any reference to reality. The deeper significance of synthesis has not yet become apparent.

In the Only Possible Ground of Proof for the Existence of God, the argument, though largely Leibnitzian, advances one step farther towards the ultimate inquiry. For there Kant states as precisely as in the critique of speculative theology his fundamental doctrine that real existence is not a predicate to be added in thought to the conception of a possible subject. So far as subjective thought is concerned, possibility, not real existence, is contained in any judgment.

The year 1765 was marked by the publication of Leibnitz’s posthumous Nouveaux Essais, in which his theory of knowledge is more fully stated than in any of his previous tracts. In all probability Kant gave some attention to this work, though no special reference to it occurs in his writings, and it may have assisted to give additional precision to his doctrine. In the curious essay, Dreams of a Clairvoyant, published 1766, he emphasizes his previously reached conclusion that connexions of real fact are mediated in our thought by ultimate notions, but adds that the significance and warrant for such notions can be furnished only by experience. He is inclined, therefore, to regard as the function of metaphysics the complete statement of these ultimate, indemonstrable notions, and therefore the determination of the limits to knowledge by their means. Even at this point, where he approximates more closely to Hume than to any other thinker, the difficulty raised by Hume does not seem to occur to him. He still appears to think that experience does warrant the employment of such notions, and when there is taken into account his correspondence with Lambert during the next few years, one would be inclined to say that the Architektonik of the latter represents most completely Kant’s idea of philosophy.

On another side Kant had been shaking himself free from the principles of the Leibnitzian philosophy. According to Leibnitz, space, the order of coexisting things, resulted from the relations of monads to one another. But Kant began to see that such a conception did not accord with the manner in which we determine directions or positions in space. In the curious little essay, On the Ground of distinguishing Particular Divisions in Space, he pointed out that the idea of space as a whole is not deducible from the experience of particular spaces, or particular relations of objects in space, that we only cognize relations in space by reference to space as a whole, and finally that definite positions involve reference to space as a given whole.

The whole development of Kant’s thought up to this point is intelligible when regarded from the Leibnitzian point of view, with which he started. There appears no reason to conclude that Hume at this time exercised any direct influence. One may go still further, and add that even in the Dissertation of 1770, generally regarded as more than foreshadowing the Kritik, the really critical question is not involved. A brief notice of the contents of this tract will suffice to show how far removed Kant yet was from the methods and principles of the critical or transcendental philosophy. Sense and understanding, according to the Dissertation, are the two sources of knowledge. The objects of the one are things of sense or phenomena; the objects of the other are noumena. These are absolutely distinct, and are not to be regarded as differing only in degree. In phenomena we distinguish matter, which is given by sense, and form, which is the law of the order of sensations. Such form is twofold—the order of space and time. Sensations formed by space and time compose the world of appearance, and this when treated by the understanding, according to logical rules, is experience. But the logical use of the understanding is not its only use. Much more important is the real use, by which are produced the pure notions whereby we think things as they are. These pure notions are the laws of the operation of the intellect; they are leges intellectus.

Apart, then, from the expanded treatment of space and time as subjective forms, we find in the Dissertation little more than the very precise and definite formulation of the slowly growing opposition to the Leibnitzian doctrines. That the pure intellectual notions should be defended as springing from the nature of intellect is not out of harmony with the statement of the Träume eines Geistersehers, for there the pure notions were allowed to exist, but were not held to have validity for actual things except on grounds of experience. Here they are supposed to exist, dissevered from experience, and are allowed validity as determinations of things in themselves.

The stage which Kant had now reached in his philosophical development was one of great significance. The doctrine of knowledge expressed in the Dissertation was the final form which the Wolffian rationalism could assume for him, and, though many of the elements of the Kritik are contained therein, it was not really in advance of the Wolffian theory. The doctrine of space and time as forms of sense-perception, the reference of both space and time and the pure intellectual notions to the laws of the activity of mind itself, the distinction between sense and understanding as one of kind, not of degree, with the correlative distinction between phenomena and noumena,—all of these reappear, though changed and modified, in the Kritik. But, despite this resemblance, it seems clear that, so far as the Dissertation is concerned, the way had only been prepared for the true critical inquiry, and that the real import of Hume’s sceptical problem had not yet dawned upon Kant. From the manner, however, in which the doctrine of knowledge had been stated in the Dissertation, the further inquiry had been rendered inevitable. It had become quite impossible for Kant to remain longer satisfied with the ambiguous position assigned to a fundamental element of his doctrine of knowledge, the so-called pure intellectual notions. Those notions, according to the Dissertation, had no function save in relation to things-in-themselves, i.e. to objects which are not directly or immediately brought into relation to our faculty of cognition. They did not serve as the connecting links of formed experience; on the contrary, they were supposed to be absolutely dissevered from all experience which was possible for intelligence like ours. In his previous essays, Kant, while likewise maintaining that such pure, irreducible notions existed, had asserted in general terms that they applied to experience, and that their applicability or justification rested on experience itself, but had not raised the question as to the ground of such justification. Now, from another side, the supreme difficulty was presented—how could such notions have application to any objects whatsoever? For some time the correlative difficulty, how objects of sense-perception were possible, does not seem to have suggested itself to Kant. In the Dissertation sense-perception had been taken as receptivity of representations of objects, and experience as the product of the treatment of such representations by the logical or analytical processes of understanding. Some traces of this confused fashion of regarding sense-perceptions are left even in the Kritik, specially perhaps in the Aesthetik, and they give rise to much of the ambiguity which unfortunately attaches to the more developed theory of cognition. So soon, however, as the critical question was put, On what rests the reference of representations in us to the object or thing? in other words, How do we come to have knowledge of objects at all? it became apparent that the problem was one of perfect generality, and applied, not only to cognition through the pure notions, but to sense-perceptions likewise. It is in the statement of this general problem that we find the new and characteristic feature of Kant’s work.

There is thus no reason to doubt the substantial accuracy of Kant’s reference to the particular occasion or cause of the critical inquiry. Up to the stage indicated by the Dissertation he had been attempting, in various ways, to unite two radically divergent modes of explaining cognition—that which would account for the content of experience by reference to affection from things without us, and that which viewed the intellect itself as somehow furnished with the means of pure, rational cognition. He now discovered that Hume’s sceptical analysis of the notion of cause was really the treatment of one typical or crucial instance of the much more general problem. If experience, says Hume, consists solely of states of mind somehow given to us, each of which exists as an effect, and therefore as distinct from others, with what right do we make the common assumption that parts of experience are necessarily connected? The only possible answer, drawn from the premises laid down, must be that there is no warrant for such an assumption. Necessity for thought, as Kant had been willing to admit and as Hume also held, involves or implies something more than is given in experience—for that which is given is contingent—and rests upon an a priori or pure notion. But a priori notions, did they exist, could have no claim to regulate experience. Hume, therefore, for his part, rejected entirely the notion of cause as being fictitious and delusive, and professed to account for the habit of regarding experience as necessarily connected by reference to arbitrarily formed custom of thinking. Experience, as given, contingent material, had a certain uniformity, and recurring uniformities generated in us the habit of regarding things as necessarily connected. That such a resort to experience for explanation could lead to no valid conclusion has been already noted as evident to Hume himself.

The dogmatic or individualist conception of experience had thus proved itself inadequate to the solution of Hume’s difficulty regarding the notion of cause,—a difficulty which Kant, erroneously, had thought to be the only case contemplated by his predecessor. The perception of its inadequacy in this respect, and the consequent generalization of Hume’s problem, are the essential features of the new critical method. For Kant was now prepared to formulate his general inquiry in a definite fashion. His long-continued reflection on the Wolffian doctrine of knowledge had made clear to him that synthetic connexion, the essence of real cognition, was not contained in the products of thinking as a formal activity of mind operating on material otherwise supplied. On the other hand, Hume’s analysis enabled him to see that synthetic connexion was not contained in experience regarded as given material. Thus neither the formal nor the material aspect of conscious experience, when regarded from the individualist point of view, supplied any foundation for real knowledge, whether a priori or empirical. An absolutely new conception of experience was necessary, if the fact of cognition was to be explained at all, and the various modes in which Kant expresses the business of his critical philosophy were merely different fashions of stating the one ultimate problem, differing according to the particular aspect of knowledge which he happened to have in view. To inquire how synthetic a priori judgments are possible, or how far cognition extends, or what worth attaches to metaphysical propositions, is simply to ask, in a specific form, what elements are necessarily involved in experience of which the subject is conscious. How is it possible for the individual thinking subject to connect together the parts of his experience in the mode we call cognition?

The problem of the critical philosophy is, therefore, the complete analysis of experience from the point of view of the conditions under which such experience is possible for the conscious subject. The central ideas are thus self-consciousness, as the supreme condition under which experience is subjectively possible, and the manifold details of experience as a varied and complex whole. The solution of the problem demanded the utmost care in keeping the due balance between these ideas; and it can hardly be said that Kant was perfectly successful. He is frequently untrue to the more comprehensive conception which dominates his work as a whole. The influence of his previous philosophical training, nay, even the unconscious influence of terminology, frequently induces in his statements a certain laxity and want of clearness. He selects definitely for his starting point neither the idea of self-consciousness nor the details of experience, but in his actual procedure passes from one to the other, rarely, if ever, taking into full consideration the weighty question of their relation to one another. Above all, he is continuously under the influence of the individualist notion which he had done so much to explode. The conception of conscious experience, which is the net result of the Kritik, is indefinitely profounder and richer than that which had ruled the 18th century philosophizing, but for Kant such experience still appears as somehow the arbitrary product of the relation between the individual conscious subject and the realm of real facts. When he is actually analysing the conditions of knowledge, the influence of the individualist conception is not prominent; the conditions are stated as quite general, as conditions of knowledge. But so soon as the deeper, metaphysical problems present themselves, the shadow of the old doctrine reappears. Knowledge is regarded as a mechanical product, part furnished by the subject, part given to the subject, and is thus viewed as mechanically divisible into a priori and a posteriori, into pure and empirical, necessary and contingent. The individual as an agent, conscious of universal moral law, is yet regarded as in a measure opposed to experience, and the Kantian ethical code remains purely formal. The ultimate relation between intelligence and natural fact, expressed in the notion of end, is thought as problematic or contingent. The difficulties or obscurities of the Kantian system, of which the above are merely the more prominent, may all be traced to the one source, the false or at least inadequate idea of the individual. The more thorough explanation of the relation between experience as critically conceived and the individual subject was the problem left by Kant for his successors.

In any detailed exposition of the critical system it would be requisite in the first place to state with some fullness the precise nature of the problems immediately before Kant, and in the second place to follow with some closeness the successive stages of the system as presented in the three main works, the Kritik of Pure Reason, the Kritik of Practical Reason and the Kritik of Judgment, with the more important of the minor works, the Metaphysic of Nature and the Metaphysic of Ethics. It would be necessary, also, in any such expanded treatment, to bring out clearly the Kantian classification of the philosophical sciences, and to indicate the relation between the critical or transcendental investigation of the several faculties and the more developed sciences to which that investigation serves as introduction. As any detailed statement of the critical system, however compressed, would be beyond the limits of the present article, it is proposed here to select only the more salient doctrines, and to point out in connexion with them what advance had been effected by Kant, and what remained for subsequent efforts at complete solution of the problems raised by him. Much that is of interest and value must necessarily be omitted in any sketch of so elaborate a system, and for all points of special interpretation reference must needs be made to the many elaborate dissertations on or about the Kantian philosophy.

The doctrine from which Kant starts in his critical or transcendental investigation of knowledge is that to which the slow development of his thought had led him. The essence of cognition or knowledge was a synthetic act, an act of combining in thought the detached elements of experience. Now synthesis was explicable neither by reference to pure thought, the logical or elaborative faculty, which in Kant’s view remained analytic in function, nor by reference to the effects of external real things upon our faculties of cognition. For, on the one hand, analysis or logical treatment applied only to objects of knowledge as already given in synthetic forms, and, on the other hand, real things could yield only isolated effects and not the combination of these effects in the forms of cognitive experience. If experience is to be matter of knowledge for the conscious subject, it must be regarded as the conjoint product of given material and synthetic combination. Form and matter may indeed be regarded separably and dealt with in isolation for purposes of critical inquiry, but in experience they are necessarily and inseparably united. The problem of the Kritik thus becomes for Kant the complete statement of the elements necessarily involved in synthesis, and of the subjective processes by which these elements are realized in our individual consciousness. He is not asking, with Locke, whence the details of experience arise; he is not attempting a natural history of the growth of experience in the individual mind; but he is endeavouring to state exhaustively what conditions are necessarily involved in any fact of knowledge, i.e. in any synthetic combination of parts of experience by the conscious subject.

So far as the elements necessarily involved in conscious experience are concerned, these may be enumerated briefly thus:—given data of sense, inner or outer; the forms of perception, i.e. space and time; the forms of thought, i.e. the categories; the ultimate condition of knowledge, the identity of the pure ego or self. The ego or self is the central unity in reference to which alone is any part of experience cognizable. But the consciousness of self is the foundation of knowledge only when related to given material. The ego has not in itself the element of difference, and the essence of knowledge is the consciousness of unity in difference. For knowledge, therefore, it is necessary that difference should be given to the ego. The modes under which it is possible for such given difference to become portion of the conscious experience of the ego, the modes under which the isolated data can be synthetically combined so as to form a cognizable whole, make up the form of cognition, and upon this form rests the possibility of any a priori or rational knowledge.

The notion of the ego as a purely logical unity, containing in itself no element of difference, and having only analytical identity, is fundamental in the critical system, and lies at the root of all its difficulties and perplexities. To say that the ego as an individual does not produce the world of experience is by no means the same as to say that the ego is pure unity without element of difference. In the one case we are treating the ego as one of the objects of experience and denying of it productive efficacy; in the second case we are dealing with the unity of the ego as a condition of knowledge, of any experience whatsoever. In this second sense, it is wholly wrong to assert that the ego is pure identity, pure unity. The unity and identity of the ego, so regarded, are taken in abstraction, i.e. as dissevered from the more complex whole of which they are necessary elements. When the ego is taken as a condition of knowledge, its unity is not more important than the difference necessarily correlated with it. That the ego as a thing should not produce difference is quite beside the mark. The consequences of the abstract separation which Kant so draws between the ego and the world of experience are apparent throughout his whole system. Assuming at the outset an opposition between the two, self and matter of knowledge, he is driven by the exigencies of the problem of reconciliation to insert term after term as means of bringing them together, but never succeeds in attaining a junction which is more than mechanical. To the end, the ego remains, partly the pure logical ego, partly the concrete individual spirit, and no explanation is afforded of the relation between them. It is for this reason that the system of forms of perception and categories appears so contingent and haphazard. No attempt is made to show how or why the difference supplied for the pure logical ego should present itself necessarily under these forms. They are regarded rather as portions of the subjective mechanism of the individual consciousness. The mind or self appears as though it were endowed with a complex machinery by which alone it could act upon the material supplied to it. Such a crude conception is far, indeed, from doing justice to Kant’s view, but it undoubtedly represents the underlying assumption of many of his cardinal doctrines. The philosophy of Fichte is historically interesting as that in which the deficiencies of Kant’s fundamental position were first discerned and the attempt made to remedy them.

Unfortunately for the consistency of the Kritik, Kant does not attempt to work out systematically the elements involved in knowledge before considering the subjective processes by which knowledge is realized in consciousness. He mixes up the two inquiries, and in the general division of his work depends rather upon the results of previous psychology than upon the lines prescribed by his own new conception of experience. He treats the elements of cognition separately in connexion with the several subjective processes involved in knowledge, viz. sense and understanding. Great ambiguity is the natural result of this procedure. For it was not possible for Kant to avoid the misleading connotation of the terms employed by him. In strictness, sense, understanding, imagination and reason ought to have had their functions defined in close relation to the elements of knowledge with which they are severally connected, and as these elements have no existence as separate facts, but only as factors in the complex organic whole, it might have been possible to avoid the error of supposing that each subjective process furnished a distinct, separately cognizable portion of a mechanical whole. But the use of separate terms, such as sense and understanding, almost unavoidably led to phraseology only interpretable as signifying that each furnished a specific kind of knowledge, and all Kant’s previous training contributed to strengthen this erroneous view. Especially noteworthy is this in the case of the categories. Kant insists upon treating these as Begriffe, notions, and assigns to them certain characteristics of notions. But it is readily seen, and in the Logik Kant shows himself fully aware of the fact, that these pure connective links of experience, general aspects of objects of intelligible experience, do not resemble concepts formed by the so-called logical or elaborative processes from representations of completed objects. Nothing but harm can follow from any attempt to identify two products which differ so entirely. So, again, the Aesthetik is rendered extremely obscure and difficult by the prevalence of the view, already noted as obtaining in the Dissertation, that sense is a faculty receiving representations of objects. Kant was anxious to avoid the error of Leibnitz, who had taken sense and understanding to differ in degree only, not in kind; but in avoiding the one error he fell into another of no less importance.

The consideration of the several elements which in combination make up the fact of cognition, or perception, as it may be called, contains little or nothing bearing on the origin and nature of the given data of sense, inner or outer. The manifold of sense, which plays so important a part in the critical theory of knowledge, is left in an obscure and perplexed position. So much is clear, however, that according to Kant sense is not to be regarded as receptive of representations of objects. The data of sense are mere stimuli, not partial or confused representations. The sense-manifold is not to be conceived as having, per se, any of the qualities of objects as actually cognized; its parts are not cognizable per se, nor can it with propriety be said to be received successively or simultaneously. When we apply predicates to the sense-manifold regarded in isolation, we make that which is only a factor in the experience of objects into a separate, independent object, and use our predicates transcendently. Kant is not always in his language faithful to his view of the sense-manifold, but the theory as a whole, together with his own express definitions, is unmistakable. On the origin of the data of sense, Kant’s remarks are few and little satisfactory. He very commonly employs the term affection of the faculty of sense as expressing the mode of origin, but offers no further explanation of a term which has significance only when interpreted after a somewhat mechanical fashion. Unquestionably certain of his remarks indicate the view that the origin is to be sought in things-in-themselves, but against hasty misinterpretations of such remarks there are certain cautions to be borne in mind. The relation between phenomena and noumena in the Kantian system does not in the least resemble that which plays so important a part in modern psychology—between the subjective results of sense affection and the character of the objective conditions of such affection. Kant has pointedly declared that it would be a gross absurdity to suppose that in his view separate, distinct things-in-themselves existed corresponding to the several objects of perception. And, finally, it is not at all difficult to understand why Kant should say that the affection of sense originated in the action of things-in-themselves, when we consider what was the thing-in-itself to which he was referring. The thing-in-itself to which the empirical order and relations of sense-experience are referred is the divine order, which is not matter of knowledge, but involved in our practical or moral beliefs. Critics who limit their view to the Kritik of Pure Reason, and there, in all probability, to the first or constructive portion of the work, must necessarily fail to interpret the doctrines of the Kantian system, which do not become clear or definite till the system has been developed. Reason was, for Kant, an organic whole; the speculative and moral aspects are never severed; and the solution of problems which appear at first sight to belong solely to the region of speculative thought may be found ultimately to depend upon certain characteristics of our nature as practical.

Data of sense-affection do not contain in themselves synthetic combination. The first conditions of such combination are found by Kant in the universal forms under which alone sense-phenomena manifest themselves in experience. These universal forms of perception, space and time, are necessary, a priori, and in characteristic features resembling intuitions, not notions. They occupy, therefore, a peculiar position, and one section of the Kritik, the Aesthetik, is entirely devoted to the consideration of them. It is important to observe that it is only through the a priori character of these perceptive forms that rational science of nature is at all possible. Kant is here able to resume, with fresh insight, his previous discussions regarding the synthetic character of mathematical propositions. In his early essays he had rightly drawn the distinction between mathematical demonstration and philosophic proof, referring the certainty of the first to the fact that the constructions were synthetic in character and entirely determined by the action of constructive imagination. It had not then occurred to him to ask, With what right do we assume that the conclusions arrived at from arbitrary constructions in mathematical matter have applicability to objects of experience? Might not mathematics be a purely imaginary science? To this question he is now enabled to return an answer. Space and time, the two essential conditions of sense-perception, are not data given by things, but universal forms of intellect into which all data of sense must be received. Hence, whatever is true of space and time regarded by imagination as objects, i.e. quantitative constructions, must be true of the objects making up our sense-experience. The same forms and the same constructive activity of imagination are involved in mathematical synthesis and in the constitution of objects of sense-experience. The foundation for pure or rational mathematics, there being included under this the pure science of movement, is thus laid in the critical doctrine of space and time.

The Aesthetik isolates sense-perception, and considers its forms as though it were an independent, complete faculty. A certain confusion, arising from this, is noticeable in the Analytik when the necessity for justifying the position of the categories is under discussion, but the real difficulty in which Kant was involved by his doctrine of space and time has its roots even deeper than the erroneous isolation of sensibility. He has not in any way “deduced” space and time, but, proceeding from the ordinary current view of sense-experience, has found these remaining as residuum after analysis. The relation in which they stand to the categories or pure notions is ambiguous; and, when Kant has to consider the fashion in which category and data of sense are to be brought together, he merely places side by side as a priori elements the pure connective notions and the pure forms of perception, and finds it, apparently, only a matter of contingent convenience that they should harmonize with one another and so render cognition possible. To this point also Fichte was the first to call attention.

Affection of sense, even when received into the pure forms of perception, is not matter of knowledge. For cognition there is requisite synthetic combination, and the intellectual function through which such combination takes place. The forms of intellectual function Kant proceeds to enumerate with the aid of the commonly received logical doctrines. For this reference to logic he has been severely blamed, but the precise nature of the debt due to the commonly accepted logical classification is very generally misconceived. Synthetic combination, Kant points out, is formally expressed in a judgment, which is the act of uniting representations. At the foundation of the judgments which express the types of synthetic combination, through which knowledge is possible, lie the pure general notions, the abstract aspect of the conditions under which objects are cognizable in experience. General logic has also to deal with the union of representations, though its unity is analytic merely, not synthetic. But the same intellectual function which serves to give unity in the analytic judgments of formal logic serves to give unity to the synthetic combinations of real perception. It appeared evident, then, to Kant that in the forms of judgment, as they are stated in the common logic, there must be found the analogues of the types of judgment which are involved in transcendental logic, or in the theory of real cognition. His view of the ordinary logic was wide and comprehensive, though in his restriction of the science to pure form one can trace the influence of his earlier training, and it is no small part of the value of the critical philosophy that it has revived the study of logic and prepared the way for a more thorough consideration of logical doctrines. The position assigned to logic by Kant is not, in all probability, one which can be defended; indeed, it is hard to see how Kant himself, in consistency with the critical doctrine of knowledge, could have retained many of the older logical theorems, but the precision with which the position was stated, and the sharpness with which logic was marked off from cognate philosophic disciplines, prepared the way for the more thoughtful treatment of the whole question.

Formal logic thus yields to Kant the list of the general notions, pure intellectual predicates, or categories, through which alone experience is possible for a conscious subject. It has already been noted how serious was the error involved in the description of these as notions, without further attempt to clear up their precise significance. Kant, indeed, was mainly influenced by his strong opposition to the Leibnitzian rationalism, and therefore assigns the categories to understanding, the logical faculty, without consideration of the question,—which might have been suggested by the previous statements of the Dissertation,—what relation these categories held to the empirical notions formed by comparison, abstraction and generalization when directed upon representations of objects. But when the categories are described as notions, i.e. formed products of thought, there rises of necessity the problem which had presented itself to Kant at every stage of his precritical thinking,—with what right can we assume that these notions apply to objects of experience? The answer which he proceeds to give altogether explodes the definition of the categories as formed products of thought, and enables us to see more clearly the nature of the new conception of experience which lies in the background of all the critical work.

The unity of the ego, which has been already noted as an element entering into the synthesis of cognition, is a unity of a quite distinct and peculiar kind. That the ego to which different parts of experience are presented must be the same ego, if there is to be cognition at all, is analytically evident; but the peculiarity is that the ego must be conscious of its own unity and identity, and this unity of self-consciousness is only possible in relation to difference not contained in the ego but given to it. The unity of apperception, then, as Kant calls it, is only possible in relation to synthetic unity of experience itself, and the forms of this synthetic unity, the categories, are, therefore, on the one hand, necessary as forms in which self-consciousness is realized, and, on the other hand, restricted in their application and validity to the data of given sense, or the particular element of experience. Thus experience presents itself as the organic combination of the particular of sense with the individual unity of the ego through the universal forms of the categories. Reference of representations to the unity of the object, synthetic unity of apperception, and subsumption of data of sense under the categories, are thus three sides or aspects of the one fundamental fact.

In this deduction of the categories, as Kant calls it, there appears for the first time an endeavour to connect together into one organic whole the several elements entering into experience. It is evident, however, that much was wanting before this essential task could be regarded as complete. Kant has certainly brought together self-consciousness, the system of the categories and data of sense. He has shown that the conditions of self-consciousness are the conditions of possible experience. But he has not shown, nor did he attempt to show, how it was that the conditions of self-consciousness are the very categories arrived at by consideration of the system of logical judgments. He does endeavour to show, but with small success, how the junction of category and data of sense is brought about, for according to his scheme these stood, to a certain extent at least, apart from and independent of one another. The failure to effect an organic combination of the several elements was the natural consequence of the false start which had been made.

The mode in which Kant endeavours to show how the several portions of cognition are subjectively realized brings into the clearest light the inconsistencies and imperfections of his doctrine. Sense had been assumed as furnishing the particular of knowledge, understanding as furnishing the universal; and it had been expressly declared that the particular was cognizable only in and through the universal. Still, each was conceived as somehow in itself complete and finished. Sense and understanding had distinct functions, and there was wanting some common term, some intermediary which should bring them into conjunction. Data of sense as purely particular could have nothing in common with the categories as purely universal. But data of sense had at least one universal aspect,—their aspect as the particular of the general forms, space and time. Categories were in themselves abstract and valueless, serviceable only when restricted to possible objects of experience. There was thus a common ground on which category and intuition were united in one, and an intermediate process whereby the universal of the category might be so far individualized as to comprehend the particular of sense. This intermediate process—which is really the junction of understanding and sense—Kant calls productive imagination, and it is only through productive imagination that knowledge or experience is actually realized in our subjective consciousness. The specific forms of productive imagination are called schemata, and upon the nature of the schema Kant gives much that has proved of extreme value for subsequent thought.

Productive imagination is thus the concrete element of knowledge, and its general modes are the abstract expression of the a priori laws of all possible experience. The categories are restricted in their applicability to the schema, i.e. to the pure forms of conjunction of the manifold in time, and in the modes of combination of schemata and categories we have the foundation for the rational sciences of mathematics and physics. Perception or real cognition is thus conceived as a complex fact, involving data of sense and pure perceptive forms, determined by the category and realized through productive imagination in the schema. The system of principles which may be deduced from the consideration of the mode in which understanding and sense are united by productive imagination is the positive result of the critical theory of knowledge, and some of its features are remarkable enough to deserve attention. According to his usual plan, Kant arranges these principles in conformity with the table of the categories, dividing the four classes, however, into two main groups, the mathematical and the dynamical. The mathematical principles are the abstract expression of the necessary mode in which data of sense are determined by the category in the form of intuitions or representations of objects; the dynamical are the abstract expression of the modes in which the existence of objects of intuition is determined. The mathematical principles are constitutive, i.e. express determinations of the objects themselves; the dynamical are regulative, i.e. express the conditions under which objects can form parts of real experience. Under the mathematical principles come the general rules which furnish the ground for the application of quantitative reasoning to real facts of experience. For as data of sense are only possible objects when received in the forms of space and time, and as space and time are only cognized when determined in definite fashion by the understanding through the schema of number (quantity) or degree (quality), all intuitions are extensive quantities and contain a real element, that of sense, which has degree. Under the dynamical principles, the general modes in which the existence of objects are determined, fall the analogies of experience, or general rules according to which the existence of objects in relation to one another can be determined, and the postulates of experience, the general rules according to which the existence of objects for us or our own subjective existence can be determined. The analogies of experience rest upon the order of perceptions in time, i.e. their permanence, succession or coexistence, and the principles are respectively those of substance, causality and reciprocity. It is to be observed that Kant in the expression of these analogies reaches the final solution of the difficulty which had so long pressed upon him, the difficulty as to the relation of the pure connective notions to experience. These notions are not directly applicable to experience, nor do we find in experience anything corresponding to the pure intellectual notions of substance, cause and reciprocity. But experience is for us the combination of data of sense in the forms of productive imagination, forms determined by the pure intellectual notions, and accordingly experience is possible for us only as in modes corresponding to the notions. The permanent in time is substance in any possible experience, and no experience is possible save through the determination of all changes as in relation to a permanent in time. Determined sequence is the causal relation in any possible experience, and no experience is possible save through the determination of perceived changes as in relation to a determined order in time. So with coexistence and reciprocity.

The postulates of experience are general expressions of the significance of existence in the experience of a conscious subject. The element of reality in such experience must always be given by intuition, and, so far as determination of existence is assumed, external intuition is a necessary condition of inner intuition. The existence of external things is as certain as the existence of the concrete subject, and the subject cannot cognise himself as existing save in relation to the world of facts of external perception. Inner and outer reality are strictly correlative elements in the experience of the conscious subject.

Throughout the positive portion of his theory of cognition, Kant has been beset by the doctrine that the categories, as finished, complete notions, have an import or significance transcending the bounds of possible experience. Morever, the manner in which space and time had been treated made it possible for him to regard these as contingent forms, necessary for intelligences like ours, but not to be viewed as absolutely necessary. The real meaning of these peculiarities is hardly ever expressed by him, though it is clear that the solution of the matter is to be found in the inadequacy of the positive theory to meet the demands of reason for completed explanation. But the conclusion to which he was led was one of the greatest importance for the after development of his system. Cognition is necessarily limited. The categories are restricted in their application to elements of possible experience to that which is presented in intuition, and all intuition is for the ego contingent. But to assert that cognition is limited and its matter contingent is to form the idea of an intelligence for whom cognition would not be limited and for whom the data of intuition would not be given, contingent facts, but necessarily produced along with the pure categories. This idea of an intuitive understanding is the definite expression for the complete explanation which reason demands, and it involves the conception of a realm of objects for such an understanding, a realm of objects which, in opposition to the phenomena of our relative and limited experience, may be called noumena or things-in-themselves. The noumenon, therefore, is in one way the object of a non-sensuous intuition, but more correctly is the expression of the limited and partial character of our knowledge. The idea of a noumenon is thus a limiting notion.

Assuredly, the difficult section of the Kritik, on the ground of the distinction between phenomena and noumena, would not have led to so much misconception as it has done, had Kant then brought forward what lies at the root of the distinction, his doctrine of reason and its functions. Understanding, as has been seen, is the faculty of cognition strictly so called; and within its realm, that of space, time and matter, positive knowledge is attainable. But the ultimate conception of understanding, that of the world of objects, quantitatively determined, and standing in relation of mutual reciprocity to one another, is not a final ground of explanation. We are still able and necessitated to reflect upon the whole world of phenomena as thus cognized, and driven to inquire after its significance. In our reflection we necessarily treat the objects, not as phenomena, as matters of positive, scientific knowledge, but as things-in-themselves, as noumena. The distinction between phenomena and noumena is, therefore, nothing but the expression of the distinction between understanding and reason, a distinction which, according to Kant, is merely subjective.

The specific function of reason is the effort after completed explanation of the experience presented in cognition. But in such effort there are no notions to be employed other than the categories, and these, as has already been seen, have validity only in reference to objects of possible experience. We may expect, then, to find the transcendent employment of the categories leading into various difficulties and inconsistencies. The criticism of reason in its specific aspect throws fresh light on the limits to human knowledge and the significance of experience.

Experience has presented itself as the complex result of relation between the ego or subject and the world of phenomena. Reason may therefore attempt a completed explanation either of the ego or of the world of phenomena or of the total relation between them. The three inquiries correspond to the subjects of the three ancient metaphysical sciences, rational psychology, rational cosmology, rational theology. It is readily seen, in regard to the first of them, that all attempts to determine the nature of the ego as a simple, perdurable, immaterial substance rest upon a confusion between the ego as pure logical unity and the ego as object of intuition, and involve a transcendent use of the categories of experience. It profits not to apply such categories to the soul, for no intuition corresponding to them is or can be given. The idea of the soul must be regarded as transcendent. So too when we endeavour, with the help of the categories of quantity, quality, relation and modality, to determine the nature and relation of parts of the world, we find that reason is landed in a peculiar difficulty. Any solution that can be given is too narrow for the demands of reason and too wide for the restrictions of understanding. The transcendent employment of the categories leads to antinomy, or equally balanced statements of apparently contradictory results. Due attention to the relation between understanding and reason enables us to solve the antinomies and to discover their precise origin and significance. Finally, the endeavour to find in the conception of God, as the supreme reality, the explanation of experience, is seen to lead to no valid conclusion. There is not any intuition given whereby we might show the reality of our idea of a Supreme Being. So far as knowledge is concerned, God remains a transcendental ideal.

The criticism of the transcendental ideas, which is also the examination of the claims of metaphysic to rank as a science, yields a definite and intelligible result. These ideas, the expression of the various modes in which unity of reason may be sought, have no objects corresponding to them in the sphere of cognition. They have not, therefore, like the categories, any constitutive value, and all attempts at metaphysical construction with the notions or categories of science must be resigned as of necessity hopeless. But the ideas are not, on that account, destitute of all value. They are supremely significant, as indicating the very essence of the function of reason. The limits of scientific cognition become intelligible, only when the sphere of understanding is subjected to critical reflexion and compared with the possible sphere of reason, that is, the sphere of rationally complete cognition. The ideas, therefore, in relation to knowledge strictly so called, have regulative value, for they furnish the general precepts for extension and completion of knowledge, and, at the same time, since they spring from reason itself, they have a real value in relation to reason as the very inmost nature of intelligence. Self-consciousness cannot be regarded as merely a mechanically determined result. Free reflection upon the whole system of knowledge is sufficient to indicate that the sphere of intuition, with its rational principles, does not exhaust conscious experience. There still remains, over and above the realm of nature, the realm of free, self-conscious spirit; and, within this sphere, it may be anticipated that the ideas will acquire a significance richer and deeper than the merely regulative import which they possess in reference to cognition.

Where, then, are we to look for this realm of free self-consciousness? Not in the sphere of cognition, where objects are mechanically determined, but in that of will or of reason as practical. That reason is practical or prescribes ends for itself is sufficiently manifest from the mere fact of the existence of the conception of morality or duty, a conception which can have no corresponding object within the sphere of intuition, and which is theoretically, or in accordance with the categories of understanding, incognizable. The presence of this conception is the datum upon which may be founded a special investigation of the conditions of reason as practical, a Kritik of pure practical reason, and the analysis of it yields the statement of the formal prescripts of morality.

The realization of duty is impossible for any being which is not thought as free, i.e. capable of self-determination. Freedom, it is true, is theoretically not an object of cognition, but its impossibility is not thereby demonstrated. The theoretical proof rather serves as useful aid towards the more exact determination of the nature and province of self-determination, and of its relation to the whole concrete nature of humanity. For in man self-determination and mechanical determination by empirical motives coexist, and only in so far as he belongs and is conscious of belonging both to the sphere of sense and to the sphere of reason does moral obligation become possible for him. The supreme end prescribed by reason in its practical aspect, namely, the complete subordination of the empirical side of nature to the prescripts of morality, demands, as conditions of its possible realization, the permanence of ethical progress in the moral agent, the certainty of freedom in self-determination, and the necessary harmonizing of the spheres of sense and reason through the intelligent author or ground of both. These conditions, the postulates of practical reason, are the concrete expressions of the three transcendental ideas, and in them we have the full significance of the ideas for reason. Immortality of the soul, positive freedom of will, and the existence of an intelligent ground of things are speculative ideas practically warranted, though theoretically neither demonstrable nor comprehensible.

Thus reason as self-determining supplies notions of freedom; reason as determined supplies categories of understanding. Union between the two spheres, which seem at first sight disparate, is found in the necessary postulate that reason shall be realized, for its realization is only possible in the sphere of sense. But such a union, when regarded in abstracto, rests upon, or involves, a notion of quite a new order, that of the adaptation of nature to reason, or, as it may be expressed, that of end in nature. Understanding and reason thus coalesce in the faculty of judgment, which mediates between, or brings together, the universal and particular elements in conscious experience. Judgment is here merely reflective; that is to say, the particular element is given, so determined as to be possible material of knowledge, while the universal, not necessary for cognition, is supplied by reason itself. The empirical details of nature, which are not determined by the categories of understanding, are judged as being arranged or ordered by intelligence, for in no other fashion could nature, in its particular, contingent aspect, be thought as forming a complete, consistent, intelligible whole.

The investigation of the conditions under which adaptation of nature to intelligence is conceivable and possible makes up the subject of the third great Kritik, the Kritik of Judgment, a work presenting unusual difficulties to the interpreter of the Kantian system. The general principle of the adaptation of nature to our faculties of cognition has two specific applications, with the second of which it is more closely connected than with the first. In the first place, the adaptation may be merely subjective, when the empirical condition for the exercise of judgment is furnished by the feeling of pleasure or pain; such adaptation is aesthetic. In the second place, the adaptation may be objective or logical, when empirical facts are given of such a kind that their possibility can be conceived only through the notion of the end realized in them; such adaptation is teleological, and the empirical facts in question are organisms.

Aesthetics, or the scientific consideration of the judgments resting on the feelings of pleasure and pain arising from the harmony or want of harmony between the particular of experience and the laws of understanding, is the special subject of the Kritik of Judgment, but the doctrine of teleology there unfolded is the more important for the complete view of the critical system. For the analysis of the teleological judgment and of the consequences flowing from it leads to the final statement of the nature of experience as conceived by Kant. The phenomena of organic production furnish data for a special kind of judgment, which, however, involves or rests upon a quite general principle, that of the contingency of the particular element in nature and its subjectively necessary adaptation to our faculty of cognition. The notion of contingency arises, according to Kant, from the fact that understanding and sense are distinct, that understanding does not determine the particular of sense, and, consequently, that the principle of the adaptation of the particular to our understanding is merely supplied by reason on account of the peculiarity or limited character of understanding. End in nature, therefore, is a subjective or problematic conception, implying the limits of understanding, and consequently resting upon the idea of an understanding constituted unlike ours—of an intuitive understanding in which particular and universal should be given together. The idea of such an understanding is, for cognition, transcendent, for no corresponding fact of intuition is furnished, but it is realized with practical certainty in relation to reason as practical. For we are, from practical grounds, compelled with at least practical necessity to ascribe a certain aim or end to this supreme understanding. The moral law, or reason as practical, prescribes the realization of the highest good, and such realization implies a higher order than that of nature. We must, therefore, regard the supreme cause as a moral cause, and nature as so ordered that realization of the moral end is in it possible. The final conception of the Kantian philosophy is, therefore, that of ethical teleology. As Kant expresses it in a remarkable passage of the Kritik, “The systematic unity of ends in this world of intelligences, which, although as mere nature it is to be called only the world of sense, can yet as a system of freedom be called an intelligible, i.e. moral world (regnum gratiae), leads inevitably to the teleological unity of all things which constitute this great whole according to universal natural laws, just as the unity of the former is according to universal and necessary moral laws, and unites the practical with the speculative reason. The world must be represented as having originated from an idea, if it is to harmonize with that use of reason without which we should hold ourselves unworthy of reason—viz. the moral use, which rests entirely on the idea of the supreme good. Hence all natural research tends towards the form of a system of ends, and in its highest development would be a physico-theology. But this, since it arises from the moral order as a unity grounded in the very essence of freedom and not accidentally instituted by external commands, establishes the teleology of nature on grounds which a priori must be inseparably connected with the inner possibility of things. The teleology of nature is thus made to rest on a transcendental theology, which takes the ideal of supreme ontological perfection as a principle of systematic unity, a principle which connects all things according to universal and necessary natural laws, since they all have their origin in the absolute necessity of a single primal being” (p. 538).

Bibliography.—Editions and works of reference are exceedingly numerous. Since 1896 an indispensable guide is the periodical review Kantstudien (Hamburg and Berlin, thrice yearly), edited by Hans Vaihinger and Bruno Bauch, which contains admirable original articles and notices of all important books on Kant and Kantianism. It has reproduced a number of striking portraits of Kant. For books up to 1887 see Erich Adickes in Philosophical Review (Boston, 1892 foll.); for 1890-1894 R. Reicke’s Kant Bibliographie (1895). See also in general the latest edition of Ueberweg’s Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie.

Editions.—Complete editions of Kant’s works are as follows: (1) G. Hartenstein (Leipzig, 1838-1839, 10 vols.); (2) K. Rosenkranz and F. W. Schubert (Leipzig, 1838-1840, 12 vols., the 12th containing a history of the Kantian school); (3) G. Hartenstein, “in chronological order” (Leipzig, 1867-1869, 8 vols.); (4) Kirchmann (in the “Philosophische Bibliothek,” Berlin, 1868-1873, 8 vols, and supplement); (5) under the auspices of the Königlich Preussische Akademie der Wissenschaften, a new collected edition was begun in 1900 (vol. ii., 1906) in charge of a number of editors. It was planned in four sections: Works, Letters, MSS. Remains and Vorlesungen. There are also useful editions of the three Kritiks by Kehrbach, and critical editions of the Prolegomena and Kritik der reinen Vernunft by B. Erdmann (see also his Beiträge zur Geschichte und Revision des Textes von Kants Kritik der reinen Vernunft (1900). A useful selection (in English) is that of John Watson, The Philosophy of Kant (Glasgow, 1888).

Translations.—There are translations in all the principal languages. The chief English translators are J. P. Mahaffy, W. Hastie, T. K. Abbott, J. H. Bernard and Belfort Bax. Their versions have been mentioned in the section on “Works” above.

Biographical.—Schubert in the 11th vol. of Rosenkranz’s edition; Borowski, Darstellung des Lebens und Charakters Kants (Königsberg, 1804); Wasianski, Kant in seinen letzten Lebensjahren (Königsberg, 1804); Stuckenberg, The Life of Immanuel Kant (1882); Rudolf Reicke, Kants Briefwechsel (1900). See also several of the critical works below. On Kant’s portraits see D. Minden, Ueber Portraits und Abbildungen Imm. Kants (1868) and cf. frontispieces of Kantstudien (as above).

Critical (in alphabetical order of authors).—R. Adamson, Philosophy of Kant (1879; Germ. trans., 1880); Felix Adler, A Critique of Kant’s Ethics (1908); S. Aicher, Kants Begriff der Erkenntnis verglichen mit dem des Aristoteles (1907); M. Apel, Immanuel Kant: Ein Bild seines Lebens und Denkens (1904); Arnoldt, Kritische Exkurse im Gebiete der Kantforschung (1894); C. Bache, “Kants Prinzip der Autonomie im Verhältnis zur Idee des Reichs der Zwecke” (Kantstudien, 1909); B. Bauch, Luther und Kant (1904); Paul Boehm, Die vorkritischen Schriften Kants (1906); E. Caird, Critical Philosophy of Kant (2 vols., 1889); Chalybäus, Historische Entwickelung der spekulativen Philosophie von Kant bis Hegel (5th ed., 1860); H. S. Chamberlain, Immanuel Kant (1909); Cousin, Leçons sur la philosophie de Kant (4th ed., 1864); B. Erdmann, Immanuel Kant, Kants Kritizismus in der 1 und 2 Auflage der “Kritik der reinen Vernunft” (1877); O. Ewald, Kants kritischer Idealismus als Grundlage von Erkenntnistheorie und Ethik (1908) and Kants Methodologie in ihren Grundzügen (1906); Kuno Fischer, Immanuel Kant (4th ed., 1898-1899), Die beiden Kantischen Schulen in Jena (1862), and Commentary on Kant’s Kritik of Pure Reason (1878); F. Förster, Der Entwicklungsgang der Kantischen Ethik bis zur Kritik der reinen Vernunft (1893); A. Fouillée, Le Moralisme de Kant et l’amoralisme contemporaine (1905); C. R. E. von Hartmann, Kants Erkenntnistheorie und Metaphysik in den vier Perioden ihrer Entwickelung (1894); A. Hegler, Die Psychologie in Kants Ethik (1891); G. D. Hicks, Die Begriffe Phänomenon und Noumenon in ihrem Verhältniss zu einander bei Kant (1897); G. Jacoby, Herders und Kants Aesthetik (1907); W. Kabitz, Studien zur Entwickelungsgeschichte der Fichteschen Wissenschaftslehre aus der Kantischen Philosophie (1902); M. Kelly, Kant’s Philosophy as rectified by Schopenhauer (1909); W. Koppelmann, I. Kant und die Grundlagen der christlichen Religion (1890); M. Kronenberg, Kant: Sein Leben und seine Lehre (1897; 3rd ed., 1905); E. Kühnemann, Kants und Schillers Begründung der Aesthetik (1895) and Die Kantischen Studien Schillers und die Komposition des Wallenstein (1889); H. Levy, Kants Lehre vom Schematismus der reinen Verstandesbegriffe (1901); Arthur O. Lovejoy, Kant and the English Platonists (1908); J. P. Mahaffy, Kant’s Critical Philosophy for English Readers (1872-1874); W. Mengel, Kants Begründung der Religion (1900); A. Messer, Kants Ethik (1904); H. Meyer-Benfey, Herder und Kant (1904); Morris, Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason (Chicago, 1882); C. Oesterreich, Kant und die Metaphysik (1906); F. Paulsen, Kant: Sein Leben und seine Lehre (1898; 4th ed., 1904; Eng. 1902); Harold H. Prichard, Kant’s Theory of Knowledge (1909); A. Seth Pringle-Pattison, The Development from Kant to Hegel (1882); and, on Kant’s philosophy of religion, in The Philosophic Radicals (1907); F. Rademaker, Kants Lehren vom innern Sinn in der Kritik der reinen Vernunft (1908); R. Reininger, Kants Lehre vom inneren Sinn und seine Theorie der Erfahrung (1900); C. B. Renouvier, Critique de la doctrine de Kant (1906); H. Romundt, Kants philosophische Religionslehre eine Frucht der gesammten Vernunftkritik (1902); T. Ruyssen, Kant (1900); E. Saenger, Kants Lehre vom Glauben (1903); O. Schapp, Kants Lehre vom Genie und die Entstehung der “Kritik der Urteilskraft” (1901); Carl Schmidt, Beiträge zur Entwickelung der Kant’schen Ethik (1900); A. Schweitzer, Die Religionsphilosophie Kants (1899); H. Sidgwick, Lectures on the Philosophy of Kant (1905); J. H. Stirling, Text Book to Kant (1881); G. Simmel, Kant und Goethe (1906); L. Staehlin, Kant, Lotze und Ritschl (1889); O. Thon, Die Grundprinzipien der Kantischen Moralphilosophie (1895); T. Valentiner, Kant und die platonische Philosophie (1904); C. Vorländer, Kant, Schiller, Goethe (1907); G. C. Uphues, Kant und sein Vorgänger (1906); W. Wallace, Kant (1905); M. Wartenberg, Kants Theorie der Kausalität (1899); John Watson, Philosophy of Kant Explained (1908), Kant and his English Critics (1881); A. Weir, A Student’s Introduction to Critical Philosophy (1906); G. A. Wyneken, Hegel’s Kritik Kants (1898); W. Windelband, Kuno Fischer und sein Kant (1897).

On Kant’s theory of education, see E. F. Büchner, The Educational Theory of Immanuel Kant (trans., ed., intro., 1904); trans. of Ueber Pädagogik by Annette Churton (1899); J. Geluk, Kant (1883).

(R. Ad.; X.)

1 See further Idealism; Metaphysics; Logic, &c., where Kant’s relation to subsequent thought is discussed.

KANURI, or Beriberi, an African tribe of mixed origin, the dominant race of Bornu. They are large-boned and coarse-featured, but contain nevertheless a distinct strain of Fula blood. Beriberi (or Berberi) is the name given them by the Hausa (see Bornu).

KAOLIN, a pure white clay, know also as china-clay, since it is an essential ingredient in the manufacture of china, or porcelain. The word kaolin, formerly written by some authors caulin, is said to be a corruption of the Chinese Kau-ling, meaning “High Ridge,” the name of a hill east of King-te-chen, whence the earliest samples of the clay sent to Europe were obtained by the Père d’Entrecolles, a French Jesuit missionary in China in the early part of the 18th century. His specimens, examined in Paris by R. A. Réaumur, showed that true porcelain, the composition of which had not previously been known in Europe, contained two essential ingredients, which came to be known—though it now appears incorrectly—as kaolin and petuntse, corresponding respectively to our china-clay and china-stone. The kaolin confers plasticity on the paste and secures retention of form for the ware when exposed to the heat of the kiln, whilst the petuntse gives the translucency so characteristic of porcelain. Some of the earliest discoveries of kaolin in Europe were at Aue, near Schneeberg in Saxony, and at St Yrieix, near Limoges in France. In England it was discovered in Cornwall about the year 1750 by William Cookworthy, of Plymouth; and in 1768 he took out his patent for making porcelain from moorstone or growan (china-stone) and growan clay (kaolin), the latter imparting “whiteness and infusibility” to the china. These raw materials were found first at Tregonning Hill, near Breage, and afterwards at St Stephen’s in Brannel, near St Austell; and their discovery led to the manufacture of hard paste, or true porcelain, at Plymouth and subsequently at Bristol.

Kaolin is a hydrous aluminium silicate, having the formula H4Al2Si2O9, or Al2Si2O7·2H2O, but in common clay this silicate is largely mixed with impurities. Certain clays contain pearly white hexagonal scales, usually microscopic, referable to the monoclinic system, and having the chemical composition of kaolin. This crystalline substance was termed kaolinite by S. W. Johnson and J. M. Blake in 1867, and it is now regarded as the basis of pure clay. The kaolinite of Amlwch in Anglesey has been studied by Allan Dick. The origin of kaolin may be traced to the alteration of certain aluminous silicates like feldspar, scapolite, beryl and topaz; but all large deposits of china-clay are due to the decomposition of feldspar, generally in granite, but sometimes in gneiss, pitchstone, &c. The turbidity of many feldspars is the result of partial “kaolinization,” or alteration to kaolin. The china-clay rocks of Cornwall and Devon are granites in which the orthoclase has become kaolinized. These rocks are sometimes known as carclazite, a name proposed by J. H. Collins from a typical locality, the Carclaze mine, near St Austell. It has often been supposed that the alteration of the granite has been effected mainly by meteoric agencies, the carbonic acid having decomposed the alkaline silicate of the feldspar, whilst the aluminous silicate assumes a hydrated condition and forms kaolin. In many cases, however, it seems likely that the change has been effected by subterranean agencies, probably by heated vapours carrying fluorine and boron, since minerals containing these elements, like tourmaline, often occur in association with the china-clay. According to F. H. Butler the kaolinization of the west of England granite may have been effected by a solution of carbonic acid at a high temperature, acting from below.

The china-stone, or petuntse, is a granitic rock which still retains much of the unaltered feldspar, on which its fusibility depends. In order to prepare kaolin for the market, the china-clay rock is broken up, and the clay washed out by means of water. The liquid containing the clay in mechanical suspension is run into channels called “drags” where the coarser impurities subside, and whence it passes to another set of channels known as “micas,” where the finer materials settle down. Thus purified, the clay-water is led into a series of pits or tanks, in which the finely divided clay is slowly deposited; and, after acquiring sufficient consistency, it is transferred to the drying-house, or “dry,” heated by flues, where the moisture is expelled, and the kaolin obtained as a soft white earthy substance. The clay has extensive application in the arts, being used not only in ceramic manufacture but in paper-making, bleaching and various chemical industries.

Under the species “kaolinite” may be included several minerals which have received distinctive names, such as the Saxon mineral called from its pearly lustre nacrite, a name originally given by A. Brongniart to a nacreous mica; pholerite found chiefly in cracks of ironstone and named by J. Guillemin from the Greek φολίς, a scale; and lithomarge, the old German Steinmark, a compact clay-like body of white, yellow or red colour. Dr C. Hintze has pointed out that the word pholerite should properly be written pholidite (φολίς, φολίδος). Closely related to kaolinite is the mineral called halloysite, a name given to it by P. Berthier after his uncle Omalius d’Halloy, the Belgian geologist.

(F. W. R.*)

KAPUNDA, a municipal town of Light county, South Australia, 48 m. by rail N.N.E. of Adelaide. Pop. (1901), 1805. It is the centre of a large wheat-growing district. The celebrated copper mines discovered in 1843 were closed in 1879. There are quarries near the town, in which is found fine marble of every colour from dark blue to white. This marble was largely used in the Houses of Parliament at Adelaide.

KAPURTHALA, a native state of India, within the Punjab. Area, 652 sq. m.; pop. (1901), 314,341, showing an increase of 5% in the decade; estimated gross revenue, £178,000; tribute, £8700. The Kapurthala family is descended from Jassa Singh, a contemporary of Nadir Shah and Ahmad Shah, who by his intelligence and bravery made himself the leading Sikh of his day. At one time it held possessions on both sides of the Sutlej, and also in the Bari Doab. The cis-Sutlej estates and scattered tracts in the Bari Doab were forfeited owing to the hostility of the chief in the first Sikh war; but the latter were afterwards restored in recognition of the loyalty of Raja Randhir Singh during the mutiny of 1857, when he led a contingent to Oudh which did good service. He also received a grant of land in Oudh, 700 sq. m. in extent, yielding a gross rental of £89,000. In Oudh, however, he exercises no sovereign powers, occupying only the status of a large landholder, with the title of Raja-i-Rajagan. Raja Sir Jagatjit Singh, K.C.S.I., was born in 1872, succeeded his father in 1877, and attained his majority in 1890. During the Tirah expedition of 1897-98 the Kapurthala imperial service infantry took a prominent part. The territory is crossed by the railway from Jullundur to Amritsar. The state has a large export trade in wheat, sugar, tobacco and cotton. The hand-painted cloths and metal-work of Phagwara are well known. The town of Kapurthala is 11 miles from Jullundur; pop. (1901), 18,519.

KARACHI, or Kurrachee, a seaport and district of British India, in the Sind province of Bombay. The city is situated at the extreme western end of the Indus delta, 500 m. by sea from Bombay and 820 m. by rail from Lahore, being the maritime terminus of the North-Western railway, and the main gateway for the trade of the Punjab and part of central Asia. It is also the capital of the province of Sind. Pop. (1881), 73,500; (1891), 105,199; (1901), 115,407. Before 1725 no town appears to have existed here; but about that time some little trade began to centre upon the convenient harbour, and the silting up of Shahbandar, the ancient port of Sind, shortly afterwards drove much of its former trade and population to the rising village. Under the Kalhora princes, the khan of Kalat obtained a grant of the town, but in 1795 it was captured by the Talpur Mirs, who built the fort at Manora, at the entrance to the harbour. They also made considerable efforts to increase the trade of the port and at the time of the British acquisition of the province the town and suburbs contained a population of 14,000. This was in 1843, from which time the importance of the place practically dates.

The harbour of Karachi has an extreme length and breadth of about 5 m. It is protected by the promontory of Manora Head; and the entrance is partially closed by rocks and by the peninsula (formerly an island) of Kiamari. On Manora Head, which is fortified, are the buildings of the port establishment, a cantonment, &c. Kiamari is the landing-place for passengers and goods, and has three piers and railway connexions. The harbour improvements were begun in 1854 with the building of the Napier Mole or causeway connecting Kiamari with the mainland. The entrance has a minimum depth of 25 ft.; and a large number of improvements and extensions have been carried out by the harbour board, which was created in 1880, and transformed in 1886 into the port trust.

The great extension of the canal colonies in the Punjab, entirely devoted to the cultivation of wheat, has immensely increased the export trade of Karachi. It now ranks as the third port of India, being surpassed only by Calcutta and Bombay. The principal articles of export, besides wheat, are oil-seeds, cotton, wool, hides and bones. The annual value of exports, including specie, amounts to about nine millions sterling. There are iron works and manufactures of cotton cloth, silk scarves and carpets. The fisheries and oyster beds are important.

Among the principal public buildings are government house, the Frere municipal hall, and the Napier barracks. The military cantonments, stretching north-east of the city, form the headquarters of a brigade in the 4th division of the southern army. An excellent water supply is provided by an underground aqueduct 18 m. in length. The chief educational institutions are the Dayaram Jethmal Arts College, with a law class; five high schools, of which two are for Europeans and one for Mahommedans; a convent school for girls; and an engineering class. The average rainfall for the year is about 5 in. The rainy months are July and August, but one or two heavy showers usually fall about Christmas. The end of May, beginning of June, and first fortnight in October are hot. November, December, January, February and March are delightfully cool and dry; the remaining months are damp with a constant cool sea breeze.

The District of Karachi has an area of 11,970 sq. m. Pop. (1901), 607,439, showing an increase of 6% in the decade. It consists of an immense tract of land stretching from the mouth of the Indus to the Baluch boundary. It differs in general appearance from the rest of Sind, having a rugged, mountainous region along its western border. The country gradually slopes away to the south-east, till in the extreme south the Indus delta presents a broad expanse of low, flat and unpicturesque alluvium. Besides the Indus and its mouths, the only river in the district is the Hab, forming the boundary between Sind and Baluchistan. The Manchhar lake in Sehwan sub-division forms the only considerable sheet of water in Sind. The hot springs at Pir Mangho are 6 m. N. of Karachi town. The principal crops are rice, millets, oil-seeds and wheat. In addition to Karachi, there are seaports at Sirgonda and Keti Bandar, which conduct a considerable coasting trade. Tatta was the old capital of Sind. Kotri is an important railway station on the Indus. The main line of the North-Western railway runs through the district. From Kotri downwards the line has been doubled to Karachi, and at Kotri a bridge has been constructed across the Indus opposite Hyderabad, to connect with the Rajputana railway system.

See A. F. Baillie, Kurrachee: Past, Present and Future (1890).

KARAGEORGE (in Servian, Karadyordye) (c. 1766-1817), the leader of the Servians during their first revolution against the Turks (1804-13), and founder of the Servian dynasty Karageorgevich. His Christian name was George (Dyordye), but being not only of dark complexion but of gloomy, taciturn and easily excitable temper, he was nicknamed by the Servians “Tsrni Dyordye” and by the Turks “Karageorge,” both meaning “Black George,” the Turkish name becoming soon the generally adopted one. He was born in 1766 (according to some in 1768), the son of an extremely poor Servian peasant, Petroniye Petrovich. When quite a young man, he entered the service of a renowned Turkish brigand, Fazli-Bey by name, and accompanied his master on his adventurous expeditions. When twenty he married and started a small farm. But having killed a Turk, he left Servia for Syrmia, in Croatia-Slavonia, where the monks of the monastery Krushedol engaged him as one of their forest guards. He remained in the service of the monks nearly two years, then enlisted into an Austrian regiment, and as sergeant took part in the Austrian war against Turkey (1788-91). He deserted his regiment, returned to Servia, and settled in the village of Topola, living sometimes as a peaceful farmer and sometimes again as the leader of a small band of “hayduks”—men who attacked, robbed and in most cases killed the travelling Turks in revenge for the oppression of their country.

The circumstances in which the Servians rose against the janissaries of the pashalik of Belgrade are related in the article on Servia. The leaders of the insurgents’ bands and other men of influence met about the middle of February 1804 at the village of Orashatz, and there elected Karageorge as the supreme leader (Vrhovni Vozd) of the nation. Under his command the Servians speedily cleared their country not only of the janissaries disloyal to the Sultan, but of all other Turks, who withdrew from the open country to the fortified places. Karageorge and his armed Servians demanded from the Sultan the privileges of self-government. The Porte, confronted by the chances of a war with Russia, decided in the autumn of 1806 to grant to the Servians a fairly large measure of autonomy. Unfortunately Karageorge was comparatively poor in political gifts and diplomatic tact. While the hattisherif granting the rights demanded by the Servians was on the way to Servia, Karageorge attacked the Turks in Belgrade and Shabats, captured the towns first and then also the citadels, and allowed the Turkish population of Belgrade to be massacred. At the same time the Russian headquarters in Bucharest informed Karageorge that Russia was at war with Turkey and that the Tsar counted on the co-operation of the Servians. Karageorge and his Servians then definitely rejected all the concessions which the Porte had granted them, and joined Russia, hoping thereby to secure the complete independence of Servia. The co-operation of the Servians with the Russians was of no great importance, and probably disappointing to both parties. But as the principal theatre of war was far away from Servia on the lower Danube, Karageorge was able to give more attention to the internal organization of Servia. The national assembly proclaimed Karageorge the hereditary chief and gospodar of the Servians (Dec. 26, 1808), he on his part promising under oath to govern the country “through and by the national council” (senate).

Karageorge’s hasty and uncompromising temper and imperious habits, as well as his want of political tact, soon made him many enemies amongst the more prominent Servians (voyvodes and senators). His difficulties were considerably increased by the intrigues of the Russian political agent to Servia, Rodophinikin. A crisis came during the summer months of the year 1813. The treaty of peace, concluded by the Russians somewhat hurriedly in Bucharest in 1812, did not secure efficiently the safety of the Servians. The Turks demanded from Karageorge, as a preliminary condition for peace, that the Servians should lay down their arms, and Karageorge refused to comply. Thereupon the entire Turkish army which fought against the Russians on the Danube, being disengaged, invaded Servia. After a few inefficient attempts to stem the invasion, Karageorge gave up the struggle, and with most of the voyvodes and chiefs of the nation left the country, and crossed to Hungary as a refugee (Sept. 20, 1813). From Hungary he went to Russia and settled in Khotin (Bessarabia), enjoying a pension from the Tsar’s government. But in the summer of 1817 he suddenly and secretly left Russia and reappeared quite alone in Servia in the neighbourhood of Semendria (Smederevo) on the Danube. The motives and the object of his return are not clear. Some believe that he was sent by the Hetaerists to raise up Servia to a new war with Turkey and thereby facilitate the rising of the Greek people. It is generally assumed, however, that, having heard that Servia, under the guidance of Milosh Obrenovich, had obtained a certain measure of self-government, he desired to put himself again at the head of the nation. This impression seems to have been that of Milosh himself, who at once reported to the Pasha of Belgrade the arrival of Karageorge. The pasha demanded that Karageorge, alive or dead, should be delivered to him immediately, and made Milosh personally responsible for the execution of that order. Karageorge’s removal could not unfortunately be separated from the personal interest of Milosh; already acknowledged as chief of the nation, Milosh did not like to be displaced by his old chief, who in a critical moment had left the country. Karageorge was killed (July 27, O.S., 1817) while he was asleep, and his head was sent to the pasha for transmission to Constantinople. It is impossible to exonerate Milosh Obrenovich from responsibility for the murder, which became the starting-point for a series of tragedies in the modern history of Servia.

Karageorge was one of the most remarkable Servians of the 19th century. No other man could have led the bands of undisciplined and badly-armed Servian peasants to such decisive victories against the Turks. Although he never assumed the title of prince, he practically was the first chief and master (gospodar) of the people of Servia. He succeeded, however, not because he was liked but because he was feared. His gloomy silence, his easily aroused anger, his habit of punishing without hesitation the slightest transgressions by death, spread terror among the people. He is believed to have killed his own father in a fit of anger when the old man refused to follow him in his flight to Hungary at the beginning of his career. In another fit of rage at the report that his brother Marinko had assaulted a girl, he ordered his men to seize his brother and to hang him there and then in his presence, and he forbade his mother to go into mourning for him. Even by his admirers he is admitted to have killed by his own hand no fewer than 125 men who provoked his anger. But in battles he is acknowledged to have been always admirable, displaying marvellous energy and valour, and giving proofs of a real military genius. The Servians consider him one of their greatest men. In grateful remembrance of his services to the national cause they elected his younger son, Alexander, in 1842, to be the reigning prince of Servia, and again in 1903 they chose his grandson, Peter Karageorgevich (son of Alexander) to be the king of Servia.

See Servia; also Ranke, Die serbische Revolution; Stoyan Novakovich, Vaskzhs srpske drzhave (Belgrade, 1904); M. G. Milityevich, Karadyordye (Belgrade, 1904).

(C. Mi.)

KARA-HISSAR (“Black Castle”). (1) Afium Kara-Hissar (q.v.). (2) Ichje, or Ischa Kara-Hissar (anc. Docimium), a small village about 14 m. N.E. of No. 1. Docimium was a Macedonian colony established on an older site. It was a self-governing municipality, striking its own coins, and stood on the Apamea-Synnada-Pessinus road, by which the celebrated marble called Synnadic, Docimian and Phrygian was conveyed to the coast. The quarries are 2½ m. from the village, and the marble was carried thence direct to Synnada (Chifut Kassaba). Some of the marble has the rich purple veins in which poets saw the blood of Atys.

See W. M. Ramsay, Hist. Geog. of Asia Minor (London, 1890); Murray, Hbk. to Asia Minor (1893).

KARA-HISSAR SHARKI [i.e. “eastern Kara-Hissar”], also called Shabin Kara-Hissar from the alum mines in its vicinity, the chief town of a sanjak of the same name in the Sivas vilayet of Asia Minor. Pop. about 12,000, two-thirds Mussulman. It is the Roman Colonia, which gradually superseded Pompey’s foundation, Nicopolis, whose ruins lie at Purkh, about 12 m. W. (hence Kara-Hissar is called Nikopoli by the Armenians). In later Byzantine times it was an important frontier station, and did not pass into Ottoman hands till twelve years after the capture of Constantinople. The town, altitude 4860 ft., is built round the foot of a lofty rock, upon which stand the ruins of the Byzantine castle, Maurocastron, the Kara Hissar Daula of early Moslem chroniclers. It is connected with its port, Kerasund, and with Sivas, Erzingan and Erzerum, by carriage roads.

KARAISKAKIS, GEORGES (1782-1827), leader in the War of Greek Independence, was born at Agrapha in 1782. During the earlier stages of the war he served in the Morea, and had a somewhat discreditable share in the intrigues which divided the Greek leaders. But he showed a sense of the necessity for providing the country with a government, and was a steady supporter of Capo d’Istria. His most honourable services were performed in the middle and later stages of the war. He helped to raise the first siege of Missolonghi in 1823, and did his best to save the town in the second siege in 1826. In that year he commanded the patriot forces in Rumelia, and though he failed to co-operate effectually with other chiefs, or with the foreign sympathizers fighting for the Greeks, he gained some successes against the Turks which were very welcome amid the disasters of the time. He took a share in the unsuccessful attempts to raise the siege of Athens in 1827, and made an effort to prevent the disastrous massacre of the Turkish garrison of fort S Spiridion. He was shot in action on the 4th of May 1827. Finlay speaks of him as a capable partisan leader who had great influence over his men, and describes him as of “middle size, thin, dark-complexioned, with a bright expressive animal eye which indicated gipsy blood.”

See G. Finlay, History of the Greek Revolution (London, 1861).

KARAJICH, VUK STEFANOVICH (1787-1864), the father of modern Servian literature, was born on the 6th of November 1787 in the Servian village of Trshich, on the border between Bosnia and Servia. Having learnt to read and write in the old monastery Tronosha (near his native village), he was engaged as writer and reader of letters to the commander of the insurgents of his district at the beginning of the first Servian rising against the Turks in 1804. Mostly in the position of a scribe to different voyvodes, sometimes as school-teacher, he served his country during the first revolution (1804-1813), at the collapse of which he left Servia, but instead of following Karageorge and other voyvodes to Russia he went to Vienna. There he was introduced to the great Slavonic scholar Yerney Kopitar, who, having heard him recite some Servian national ballads, encouraged him to collect the poems and popular songs, write a grammar of the Servian language, and, if possible, a dictionary. This programme of literary work was adhered to by Karajich, who all his life acknowledged gratefully what he owed to his learned teacher.

In the second half of the 18th and in the beginning of the 19th century all Servian literary efforts were written in a language which was not the Servian vernacular, but an artificial language, of which the foundation was the Old Slavonic in use in the churches, but somewhat Russianized, and mixed with Servian words forced into Russian forms. That language, called by its writers “the Slavonic-Servian,” was neither Slavonic nor Servian. It was written in Old Cyrillic letters, many of which had no meaning in the Servian language, while there were several sounds in that language which had no corresponding signs or letters in the Old Slavonic alphabet. The Servian philosopher Dositey Obradovich (who at the end of the 18th century spent some time in London teaching Greek) was the first Servian author to proclaim the principle that the books for the Servian people ought to be written in the language of the people. But the great majority of his contemporaries were of opinion that the language of Servian literature ought to be evolved out of the dead Old Slavonic of the church books. The church naturally decidedly supported this view. Karajich was the great reformer who changed all this. Encouraged by Kopitar, he published in 1814 (2nd ed., 1815) in Vienna his first book, Mala Prostonarodna Slaveno-Serbska Pyesmaritsa (“A small collection of Slavonic-Servian songs of the common people”), containing a hundred lyric songs, sung by the peasant women of Servia, and six poems about heroes, or as the Servians call them Yunachke pesme, which are generally recited by the blind bards or by peasants. From that time Karajich’s literary activity moved on two parallel lines: to give scientific justification and foundation to the adoption of the vernacular Servian as the literary language; and, by collecting and publishing national songs, folk-lore, proverbs, &c., to show the richness of the Servian people’s poetical and intellectual gifts, and the wealth and beauty of the Servian language. By his reform of the Servian alphabet and orthography, his Servian grammar and his Servian dictionary, he established the fact that the Servian language contains thirty distinct sounds, for six of which the Old Slavonic alphabet had no special letters. He introduced new letters for those special sounds, at the same time throwing out of the Old Slavonic alphabet eighteen letters for which the Servian language had no use. This reform was strenuously opposed by the church and many conservative authors, who went so far as to induce the Servian government to prohibit the printing of books in new letters, a prohibition removed in 1859. Karajich’s alphabet facilitated his reform of orthography, his principle being: write as you speak, and read as it is written! Hardly any other language in the civilized world has such a simple, logical, scientific spelling system and orthography as the Servian has in Karajich’s system. His first grammatical essay was published in Vienna in 1814, Pismenitsa Serbskoga yezika po govoru prostoga naroda (“The grammar of the Servian language as spoken by the common people”). An improved edition appeared in Vienna in 1818, together with his great work Srpski Ryechnik (Lexicon Serbico-Germanico-Latinum). This dictionary—containing 26,270 words—was full of important contributions to folk-lore, as Karajich never missed an opportunity to add to the meaning of the word the description of the national customs or popular beliefs connected with it. A new edition of his dictionary, containing 46,270 words, was published at Vienna in 1852. Meanwhile he gave himself earnestly to the work of collecting the “creations of the mind of the Servian common people.” He travelled through Servian countries (Servia, Bosnia, Herzegovina, Montenegro, Dalmatia, Syrmia, Croatia), and the result was shown in a largely augmented edition of his Srpske Narodne Pyesme, of which the first three volumes appeared at Leipzig in 1823 and 1824, the fourth volume appearing at Vienna in 1833. Popular Stories and Enigmas was published in 1821, and Servian National Proverbs in 1836. From 1826 to 1834 he was the editor of an annual, called Danitsa (The Morning Star), which he filled with important contributions concerning the ethnography and modern history of the Servian people. In 1828 he published a historical monograph, Milosh Obrenovich, Prince of Servia; in 1837, in German, Montenegro and Montenegrins; in 1867, The Servian Governing Council of State. He supplied Leopold Ranke with the materials for his History of the Servian Revolution. He also translated the New Testament into Servian, for the British and Foreign Bible Society (Vienna, 1847). Karajich died in Vienna on the 6th of February 1864; and his remains were transferred to Belgrade in 1897 with great solemnity and at the expense of the government of Servia.