of inner greatness is explained by the fact that the imagination, in acknowledging reason superior, places itself in the appropriate and purposive relation of subordination.  It is evident from the foregoing that the truly sublime is reason, the moral nature of man, his predisposition and destination, which point beyond the present world.  Schiller declares that “in space the sublime does not dwell,” and Kant says, “Sublimity is contained in none of the things of nature, but only in our mind, in so far as we are conscious of being superior to nature within us and without us.”  Nevertheless, since in this contemplation we fix our thoughts entirely on the object without reflecting on ourselves, we transfer the admiration of right due to the reason and its Idea of the infinite by subreption to the object by which the Idea is occasioned, and call the object itself sublime, instead of the mood which it wakes in us.

If the sublime marks the point where the aesthetic touches on the boundary of the moral, the beautiful is also not without some relation to the good.  By showing the agreement of sensibility and reason, which is demanded by the moral law, realized in aesthetic intuition (as a voluntary yielding of the imagination to the legitimacy of the understanding), it gives us the inspiring consciousness that the antithesis is reconcilable, that the rational can be presented in the sensuous, and so becomes a “symbol of the good.”

%(b) Teleological Judgment.%—­Teleological judgment is not knowledge, but a way of looking at things which comes into play where the causal or mechanical explanation fails us.  This is not the case if the purposiveness is external, relative to its utility for something else.  The fact that the sand of the sea-shore furnishes a good soil for the pine neither furthers nor prevents a causal knowledge of it.  Only inner purposiveness, as it is manifested in the products of organic nature, brings the mechanical explanation to a halt.  Organisms are distinguished above inorganic forms by the fact that of themselves they are at once cause and effect, that they are self-productive and this both as a species (the oak springs from the acorn, and in its turn bears acorns) and as individuals (self-preservation, growth, and the replacement of dying parts by new ones), and also by the fact that the reciprocally productive parts are in their form and their existence all conditioned by the whole.  This latter fact, that the whole is the determining ground for the parts, is perfectly obvious in the products of human art.  For here it is the representation of the whole (the idea of the work desired) which as the ground precedes the existence and the form of the parts (of the machine).  But where is the subject to construct organisms according to its representations of ends?  We may neither conceive nature itself as endowed with forces acting in view of ends, nor a praetermundane intelligence interfering in the course of nature.  Either of these suppositions would