It was from this fear only that I wished to set thee free. Thou art delivered from it, and I now leave thee to thyself.
I. Stay, deceitful Spirit! Is this all the wisdom towards which thou hast directed my hopes, and dost thou boast that thou hast set me free? Thou hast set me free, it is true:—thou hast absolved me from all dependence; for thou hast transformed myself, and everything around me on which I could possibly be dependent, into nothing. Thou hast abolished necessity by annihilating all existence.
Spirit. Is the danger so great?
I. And thou canst jest!—According to thy system.
Spirit. My system? Whatever we have agreed upon, we have produced in common; we have laboured together, and thou hast understood everything as well as myself;—but it would be difficult for thee at present even to guess at my true and perfect mode of thought.
I. Call thy thoughts by what name thou wilt; by all that thou hast hitherto said, there is nothing, absolutely nothing but presentations,—modes of consciousness, and of consciousness only. But a presentation is to me only the picture, the shadow of a reality; in itself it cannot satisfy me, and has not the smallest worth. I might be content that this material world without me should vanish into a mere picture, or be dissolved into a shadow;—I am not dependent on it: but according to thy previous reasoning, I myself disappear no less than it; I myself am transformed into a mere presentation, without meaning and without purpose. Or tell me, is it otherwise?
