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Updated: May 3, 2025
Some of Fechner's reasons for thinking the Earth a being superior in the scale to ourselves, he gave, but it was another passage that lingered chiefly in my heart, the description of the daring German's joy in dwelling upon her perfections later, too, of his first simple vision.
If philosophy is more a matter of passionate vision than of logic, and I believe it is, logic only finding reasons for the vision afterwards, must not such thinness come either from the vision being defective in the disciples, or from their passion, matched with Fechner's or with Hegel's own passion, being as moonlight unto sunlight or as water unto wine?
They have had their vision and they know that is enough that we inhabit an invisible spiritual environment from which help comes, our soul being mysteriously one with a larger soul whose instruments we are. One may therefore plead, I think, that Fechner's ideas are not without direct empirical verification.
I doubt whether we shall ever understand some of them without using the very letter of Fechner's conception of a great reservoir in which the memories of earth's inhabitants are pooled and preserved, and from which, when the threshold lowers or the valve opens, information ordinarily shut out leaks into the mind of exceptional individuals among us.
The autumn sky overhead, thick-sown with its myriad stars, came down close, sifting gold and fire about my life's dull ways. That desk in the Insurance Office of Cornhill gleamed beyond as an altar or a possible throne. The glory of Fechner's immense speculation flamed about us both, majestic yet divinely simple.
His hands smoothed out papers. Then he leaned forward, still holding his companion's eyes with that steady stare which forbade familiarity. "My friend," he said quietly in German, "you asked me just now to tell you of the theory Fechner's theory that the Earth is a living, conscious Being. If you care to listen, I will do so. We have time."
It is natural in this connection to refer to Fechner's vigorous advocacy." F.H. BRADLEY, Appearance and Reality It was with an innate resistance at least a stubborn prejudice that I heard him begin. The earth, of course, was but a bubble of dried fire, a huge round clod, dead as mutton. How could it be, in any permissible sense of the word alive?
The Spirit of Modern Philosophy, p. 227. Fechner: Über die Seelenfrage, 1861, p. 170. Fechner's latest summarizing of his views, Die Tagesansicht gegenüber der Nachtansicht, Leipzig, 1879, is now, I understand, in process of translation. Mr. Bradley ought to be to some degree exempted from my attack in these last pages.
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