conception of myself; and that, according to the same laws, I can only transfer this conception to certain definite intuitions. But the voice of my conscience thus speaks:—“Whatever these beings may be in and for themselves, thou shall act towards them as self-existent, free, substantive beings, wholly independent of thee. Assume it as already known, that they can give a purpose to their own being wholly by themselves, and quite independently of thee; never interrupt the accomplishment of this purpose, but rather further it to the utmost of thy power. Honour their freedom, lovingly take up their purposes as if they were thine own.” Thus ought I to act:—by this course of action ought all my thought to be guided,—nay, it shall and must necessarily be so, if I have resolved to obey the voice of my conscience. I shall therefore always regard these beings as in possession of an existence for themselves wholly independent of mine, as capable of forming and carrying out their own purposes;—from this point of view, I shall never be able to regard them otherwise, and my previous speculations shall vanish from before me like an empty dream.—I think of them as beings like myself, I have said; but strictly speaking, it is not mere thought by which they are first presented to me as such. It is by the voice of my conscience,—the command:—“Here set a limit to thy freedom; here recognise and reverence purposes which are not thine own.” This it is which is first translated into the thought, “Here, certainly and truly, are beings like myself, free and independent.” To view them otherwise, I must in action renounce, and in speculation disregard, the voice of my conscience.
Other phenomena present themselves before me which
