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diff --git a/old/51636-0.txt b/old/51636-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9b625d7..0000000 --- a/old/51636-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14992 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hegel's Lectures on the History of -Philosophy: Volume Two (of 3), by Georg Wilhelm Hegel - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Hegel's Lectures on the History of Philosophy: Volume Two (of 3) - -Author: Georg Wilhelm Hegel - -Translator: E. S. Haldane - Frances H. Simson - -Release Date: April 2, 2016 [EBook #51636] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEGEL'S LECTURES--HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY 2 *** - - - - -Produced by Giovanni Fini, Fritz Ohrenschall and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - HEGEL’S LECTURES ON THE - HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY - - VOLUME TWO - - - - - Hegel’s Lectures on - - THE HISTORY OF - PHILOSOPHY - - _Translated from the German by_ - - E. S. HALDANE - - _and_ - - FRANCES H. SIMSON, M.A. - - _In three volumes_ - - VOLUME TWO - -[Illustration] - - ROUTLEDGE & KEGAN PAUL LTD - Broadway House, 68-74 Carter Lane - London, E.C.4 - - - - - _First published in England 1894 - by Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co. Ltd_ - - _Reprinted 1955 - by Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd - Broadway House, 68-74 Carter Lane - London, E.C.4_ - - - _Reprinted by lithography in Great Britain by - Jarrold and Sons Limited, Norwich_ - - - - -CONTENTS - - - GREEK PHILOSOPHY - - SECTION ONE (CONTINUED) - - PAGE - - CHAPTER III.—FIRST PERIOD, THIRD DIVISION 1 - - A. The Philosophy of Plato 1 - - 1. Dialectic 49 - - 2. Philosophy of Nature 71 - - 3. Philosophy of Mind 90 - - B. The Philosophy of Aristotle 117 - - 1. Metaphysics 137 - - 2. Philosophy of Nature 153 - - 3. Philosophy of Mind 180 - - _a._ Psychology 180 - - _b._ Practical Philosophy 202 - - α. Ethic 202 - - β. Politics 207 - - 4. Logic 210 - - - SECTION TWO - - SECOND PERIOD.—DOGMATISM AND SCEPTICISM 232 - - A. The Philosophy of the Stoics 236 - - 1. Physics 243 - - 2. Logic 249 - - 3. Ethics 257 - - B. The Philosophy of the Epicureans 276 - - 1. Canonic 281 - - 2. Metaphysics 286 - - 3. Physics 292 - - 4. Ethics 300 - - C. The Philosophy of the New Academy 311 - - 1. Arcesilaus 313 - - 2. Carneades 319 - - D. Scepticism 328 - - 1. Earlier Tropes 347 - - 2. Later Tropes 357 - - - SECTION THREE - - THIRD PERIOD.—THE NEO-PLATONISTS 374 - - A. Philo 387 - - B. The Cabala and Gnosticism 394 - - 1. Cabalistic Philosophy 394 - - 2. The Gnostics 396 - - C. The Alexandrian Philosophy 399 - - 1. Ammonias Saccas 403 - - 2. Plotinus 404 - - 3. Porphyry and Iamblichus 431 - - 4. Proclus 432 - - 5. Successors of Proclus 450 - - - - -CHAPTER III - -FIRST PERIOD, THIRD DIVISION: PLATO AND ARISTOTLE. - - -THE development of philosophic science as science, and, further, the -progress from the Socratic point of view to the scientific, begins with -Plato and is completed by Aristotle. They of all others deserve to be -called teachers of the human race. - - -A. PLATO. - -Plato, who must be numbered among the Socratics, was the most renowned -of the friends and disciples of Socrates, and he it was who grasped -in all its truth Socrates’ great principle that ultimate reality -lies in consciousness, since, according to him, the absolute is in -thought, and all reality is Thought. He does not understand by this -a one-sided thought, nor what is understood by the false idealism -which makes thought once more step aside and contemplate itself as -conscious thought, and as in opposition to reality; it is the thought -which embraces in an absolute unity reality as well as thinking, the -Notion and its reality in the movement of science, as the Idea of a -scientific whole. While Socrates had comprehended the thought which -is existent in and for itself, only as an object for self-conscious -will, Plato forsook this narrow point of view, and brought the merely -abstract right of self-conscious thought, which Socrates had raised -to a principle, into the sphere of science. By so doing he rendered it -possible to interpret and apply the principle, though his manner of -representation may not be altogether scientific. - -Plato is one of those world-famed individuals, his philosophy one -of those world-renowned creations, whose influence, as regards the -culture and development of the mind, has from its commencement down -to the present time been all-important. For what is peculiar in -the philosophy of Plato is its application to the intellectual and -supersensuous world, and its elevation of consciousness into the realm -of spirit. Thus the spiritual element which belongs to thought obtains -in this form an importance for consciousness, and is brought into -consciousness; just as, on the other hand, consciousness obtains a -foothold on the soil of the other. The Christian religion has certainly -adopted the lofty principle that man’s inner and spiritual nature -is his true nature, and takes it as its universal principle, though -interpreting it in its own way as man’s inclination for holiness; -but Plato and his philosophy had the greatest share in obtaining for -Christianity its rational organization, and in bringing it into the -kingdom of the supernatural, for it was Plato who made the first -advance in this direction. - -We must begin by mentioning the facts of Plato’s life. Plato was an -Athenian, born in the third year of the 87th Olympiad, or, according to -Dodwell, Ol. 87, 4 (B.C. 429), at the beginning of the Peloponnesian -war, in the year in which Pericles died. He was, according to this, -thirty-nine or forty years younger than Socrates. His father, Ariston, -traced his lineage from Cadrus; his mother, Perictione, was descended -from Solon. The paternal uncle of his mother was the celebrated -Critias, who was for a time among the associates of Socrates, and -who was the most talented and brilliant, but also the most dangerous -and obnoxious, of the Thirty Tyrants of Athens (_supra_, Vol. I. p. -421). Critias is usually represented by the ancients as an atheist, -with the Cyrenaic Theodoras and Diagoras of Melos; Sextus Empiricus -(adv. Math. IX. 51-54) has preserved to us a fine fragment from one -of his poems. Sprung from this noble race, and with no lack of means -for his culture, Plato received from the most highly esteemed of the -Sophists an education in all the arts which were then thought to befit -an Athenian. In his family he was called Aristocles; it was only later -that he received from his teacher the name of Plato. Some say that he -was so styled because of the breadth of his forehead; others, because -of the richness and breadth of his discourse; others again, because of -his well-built form.[1] - -In his youth he cultivated poetry, and wrote tragedies—very much like -young poets in our day—also dithyrambs and songs. Various specimens of -the last are still preserved to us in the Greek anthology, and have as -subject his various loves; we have amongst others a well-known epigram -on a certain Aster, one of his best friends, which contains a pretty -fancy, found also in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet: - - “To the stars thou look’st, mine Aster, - O would that I were Heaven, - With eyes so many thus to gaze on thee.”[2] - -In his youth he had every intention of devoting himself to politics. -He was brought by his father to Socrates when in his twentieth year, -and enjoyed intimate friendship with him for eight years. It is related -that Socrates dreamt on the preceding night that he had a young swan -perched on his knees, whose wings quickly developed, and which then -flew up to heaven, singing the sweetest songs. Many such incidents are -mentioned by the ancients, and they bear witness to the deep reverence -and love with which both contemporaries and those of later times -regarded the calm dignity of Plato, and that loftiness of demeanour -which he combined with extreme simplicity and lovableness, traits of -character which won for him the name of “the divine.” Plato did not -content himself with the society and wisdom of Socrates, but studied -in addition the older philosophers, particularly Heraclitus. Aristotle -(Met. I. 6) states that Plato, before he ever came to Socrates, -associated with Cratylus, and had been initiated into the doctrines of -Heraclitus. He also studied the Eleatics, and very particularly the -Pythagoreans, and he frequented the society of the most noted Sophists. -Thus deeply immersed in Philosophy, he lost his interest in poetry and -politics, and gave them up altogether, that he might devote himself -entirely to scientific pursuits. He fulfilled, like Socrates, his term -of military service as an Athenian citizen, and is said to have taken -part in three campaigns.[3] - -We have already mentioned (Vol. I. p. 448) that, after Socrates -was put to death, Plato, like many other philosophers, fled from -Athens, and betook himself to Euclides at Megara. Leaving Megara -before long, he travelled first to Cyrene in Africa, where he turned -his attention specially to mathematics, under the guidance of the -celebrated mathematician Theodoras, whom he introduces as taking part -in several of his dialogues. Plato himself soon attained to high -proficiency in mathematics. To him is attributed the solution of the -Delian or Delphic problem, which was proposed by the oracle, and, -like the Pythagorean dogma, has reference to the cube. The problem -is, to draw a line the cube of which will be equal to the sum of two -given cubes. This requires a construction through two curves. The -nature of the tasks then set by the oracles is very curious; on this -particular occasion application had been made to the oracle in a time -of pestilence, and it responded by proposing an entirely scientific -problem; the change indicated in the spirit of the oracle is highly -significant. From Cyrene Plato went to Italy and Egypt. In Magna Græcia -he made the acquaintance of the Pythagoreans of that day, Archytas of -Tarentum, the celebrated mathematician, Philolaus and others; and he -also bought the writings of the older Pythagoreans at a high price. -In Sicily he made friends with Dion. Returning to Athens, he opened -a school of Philosophy in the Academy, a grove or promenade in which -stood a gymnasium, and there he discoursed to his disciples.[4] This -pleasure-ground had been laid out in honour of the hero Academus, -but Plato was the true hero of the Academy who did away with the old -significance of the name, and overshadowed the fame of the original -hero, whose place he so completely took that the latter comes down to -after ages only as connected with Plato. - -Plato’s busy life in Athens was twice interrupted by a journey to -Sicily, to the Court of Dionysius the younger, ruler of Syracuse and -Sicily. This connection with Dionysius was the most important, if not -the only external relation into which Plato entered; it had, however, -no lasting result. Dion, the nearest relative of Dionysius, and other -respected Syracusans, his friends, deluded themselves with vain hopes -regarding Dionysius. He had been allowed by his father to grow up -almost without education, but his friends had instilled into him some -notion of and respect for Philosophy, and had roused in him a desire to -make acquaintance with Plato. They hoped that Dionysius would profit -greatly by his intimacy with Plato, and that his character, which was -still unformed, and to all appearance far from unpromising, would be so -influenced by Plato’s idea of the constitution of a true state, that -this might, through him, come to be realized in Sicily. It was partly -his friendship with Dion, and partly and more especially the high -hopes he himself cherished of seeing a true form of government actually -established by Dionysius, that induced Plato to take the mistaken step -of journeying to Sicily. On the surface it seems an excellent idea -that a young prince should have a wise man at his elbow to instruct -and inspire him; and on this idea a hundred political romances have -been based; the picture has, however, no reality behind it. Dionysius -was much pleased with Plato, it is true, and conceived such a respect -for him that he desired to be respected by him in turn; but this did -not last long. Dionysius was one of those mediocre natures who may -indeed in a half-hearted way aspire to glory and honour, but are -capable of no depth and earnestness, however much they may affect it, -and who lack all strength of character. His intentions were good, but -the power failed him to carry them out; it was like our own satirical -representations in the theatre, of a person who aspires to be quite -a paragon, and turns out an utter fool. The position of affairs -represented thereby can be nothing but this, seeing that lack of -energy alone allows itself to be guided; but it is also the same lack -of energy which renders impossible of execution even a plan made by -itself. The rupture between Plato and Dionysius took place on personal -grounds. Dionysius fell out with his relative Dion, and Plato became -involved in the quarrel, because he would not give up his friendship -with Dion. Dionysius was incapable of a friendship based on esteem and -sympathy in pursuits; it was partly his personal inclination to Plato, -and partly mere vanity, which had made him seek the philosopher’s -friendship. Dionysius could not, however, induce Plato to come under -any obligation to him; he desired that Plato should give himself up to -him entirely, but this was a demand that Plato refused to entertain.[5] - - -Plato accordingly took his departure. After the separation, however, -both felt the desire to be again together. Dionysius recalled Plato, -in order to effect a reconciliation with him; he could not endure -that he should have failed in the attempt to attach Plato permanently -to himself, and he found it specially intolerable that Plato would -not give up Dion. Plato yielded to the urgent representations, -not only of his family and Dion, but also of Archytas and other -Pythagoreans of Tarentum, to whom Dionysius had applied, and who were -taking an interest in the reconciliation of Dionysius with Dion and -Plato; indeed, they went so far as to guarantee safety and liberty -of departure to Plato. But Dionysius found that he could endure -Plato’s presence no better than his absence; he felt himself thereby -constrained. And though, by the influence of Plato and his other -companions, a respect for science had been awakened in Dionysius, -and he had thus become more cultured, he never penetrated beyond the -surface. His interest in Philosophy was just as superficial as his -repeated attempts in poetry; and while he wished to be everything—poet, -philosopher, and statesman—he would not submit to be under the -guidance of others. Thus no closer tie between Plato and Dionysius -was formed; they drew together again, and again parted, so that the -third visit to Sicily ended also in coldness, and the connection was -not again established. This time the ill-feeling with regard to the -continued relations with Dion ran so high, that when Plato wished to -leave Sicily, on account of the treatment his friend had met with from -Dionysius, the latter deprived him of the means of conveyance, and -at last would have forcibly prevented his departure from Sicily. The -Pythagoreans of Tarentum came at length to the rescue,[6] demanded -Plato back from Dionysius, got him conveyed away safely, and brought -him to Greece. They were aided by the circumstance that Dionysius was -afraid of an ill report being spread that he was not on good terms with -Plato.[7] Thus Plato’s hopes were shattered, and his dream of shaping -the constitution in accordance with the demands of his own philosophic -ideas, through the agency of Dionysius, proved vain. - -At a later date, therefore, he actually refused to be the lawgiver of -other States, though they had made application to him for that very -purpose; amongst these applicants were the inhabitants of Cyrene and -the Arcadians. It was a time when many of the Greek States found their -constitutions unsatisfactory, and yet could not devise anything new.[8] -Now in the last thirty years[9] many constitutions have been drawn up, -and it would be no hard task for anyone having had much experience in -this work to frame another. But theorizing is not sufficient for a -constitution; it is not individuals who make it; it is something divine -and spiritual, which develops in history. So strong is this power -of the world-spirit that the thought of an individual is as nothing -against it; and when such thoughts do count for something, _i.e._ -when they can be realized, they are then none other than the product -of this power of the universal spirit. The idea that Plato should -become lawgiver was not adapted for the times; Solon and Lycurgus -were lawgivers, but in Plato’s day such a thing was impracticable. -He declined any further compliance with the wishes of these States, -because they would not agree to the first condition which he imposed, -namely, the abolition of all private property,[10] a principle which -we shall deal with later, in considering Plato’s practical philosophy. -Honoured thus throughout the whole land, and especially in Athens, -Plato lived until the first year of the 108th Olympiad (B.C. 348); and -died on his birthday, at a wedding feast, in the eighty-first year of -his age.[11] - -We have to speak, in the first place, of the direct mode in which -Plato’s philosophy has come down to us; it is to be found in those -of his writings which we possess; indubitably they are one of the -fairest gifts which fate has preserved from the ages that are gone. -His philosophy is not, however, properly speaking, presented there in -systematic form, and to construct it from such writings is difficult, -not so much from anything in itself, as because this philosophy has -been differently understood in different periods of time; and, more -than all, because it has been much and roughly handled in modern times -by those who have either read into it their own crude notions, being -enable to conceive the spiritual spiritually, or have regarded as the -essential and most significant element in Plato’s philosophy that which -in reality does not belong to Philosophy at all, but only to the mode -of presentation; in truth, however, it is only ignorance of Philosophy -that renders it difficult to grasp the philosophy of Plato. The form -and matter of these works are alike of interest and importance. In -studying them we must nevertheless make sure, in the first place, what -of Philosophy we mean to seek and may find within them, and, on the -other hand, what Plato’s point of view never can afford us, because -in his time it was not there to give. Thus it may be that the longing -with which we approached Philosophy is left quite unsatisfied; it is, -however, better that we should not be altogether satisfied than that -such conclusions should be regarded as final. Plato’s point of view is -clearly defined and necessary, but it is impossible for us to remain -there, or to go back to it; for Reason now makes higher demands. As for -regarding it as the highest standpoint, and that which we must take for -our own—it belongs to the weaknesses of our time not to be able to bear -the greatness, the immensity of the claims made by the human spirit, -to feel crushed before them, and to flee from them faint-hearted. We -must stand above Plato, _i.e._ we must acquaint ourselves with the -needs of thoughtful minds in our own time, or rather we must ourselves -experience these needs. Just as the pedagogue’s aim is to train up men -so as to shield them from the world, or to keep them in a particular -sphere—the counting-house, for instance, or bean-planting, if you wish -to be idyllic—where they will neither know the world nor be known -by it; so in Philosophy a return has been made to religious faith, -and therefore to the Platonic philosophy.[12] Both are moments which -have their due place and their own importance, but they are not the -philosophy of our time. It would be perfectly justifiable to return -to Plato in order to learn anew from him the Idea of speculative -Philosophy, but it is idle to speak of him with extravagant enthusiasm, -as if he represented beauty and excellence in general. Moreover, it is -quite superfluous for Philosophy, and belongs to the hypercriticism -of our times, to treat Plato from a literary point of view, as -Schleiermacher does, critically examining whether one or another of the -minor dialogues is genuine or not. Regarding the more important of the -dialogues, we may mention that the testimony of the ancients leaves not -the slightest doubt. - -Then of course the very character of Plato’s works, offering us in -their manysidedness various modes of treating Philosophy, constitutes -the first difficulty standing in the way of a comprehension of his -philosophy. If we still had the oral discourses (ἄγραφα δόγματα) of -Plato, under the title “Concerning the Good” (περὶ τἀγαθοῦ), which his -scholars noted down, we should have had his philosophy before us in -simpler, because in more systematic form.[13] Aristotle seems to have -had these discourses before him, when dealing with the philosophy of -Plato, and he quotes them in his work “On Philosophy,” or, “On the -Ideas,” or, “On the Good” (Brandis has written on this topic). But, -as it happens, we have only Plato’s Dialogues, and their form renders -it all the more difficult for us to gather a definite idea of his -philosophy. For the dialogue form contains very heterogeneous elements; -Philosophy proper in the treatment of absolute Being, and, intermingled -with that, its particular mode of representation. It is just this which -constitutes the manysidedness of Plato’s works. - -A second difficulty is said to lie in the distinction drawn between -exoteric and esoteric philosophy. Tennemann (Vol. II. p. 220) says: -“Plato exercised the right, which is conceded to every thinker, of -communicating only so much of his discoveries as he thought good, and -of so doing only to those whom he credited with capacity to receive it. -Aristotle, too, had an esoteric and an exoteric philosophy, but with -this difference, that in his case the distinction was merely formal, -while with Plato it was also material.” How nonsensical! This would -appear as if the philosopher kept possession of his thoughts in the -same way as of his external goods: the philosophic Idea is, however, -something utterly different, and instead of being possessed by, it -possesses a man. When philosophers discourse on philosophic subjects, -they follow of necessity the course of their ideas; they cannot keep -them in their pockets; and when one man speaks to another, if his -words have any meaning at all, they must contain the idea present -to him. It is easy enough to hand over an external possession, but -the communication of ideas requires a certain skill; there is always -something esoteric in this, something more than the merely exoteric. -This difficulty is therefore trifling. - -Thirdly, as one of the circumstances that render it difficult to -comprehend Plato’s own speculative thought, we can scarcely reckon the -external consideration that in his Dialogues he does not speak in his -own person, but introduces Socrates and many others as the speakers, -without always making it plain which of them expresses the writer’s -own opinion. By reason of this historic circumstance, which seems -to bear out the manysidedness of Plato, it has of course been often -said, by ancients as well as moderns, that he merely expounded, from -a historical point of view, the system and doctrine of Socrates, that -he adapted much in the Dialogues from various Sophists, and avowedly -advanced many theorems belonging to an earlier date, especially those -of the Pythagoreans, Heraclitics, and Eleatics, even adopting, in -the last case, the Eleatic mode of treatment. Hence it was said that -to these philosophies the whole matter of the treatise belonged, -the outward form alone being Plato’s. It is therefore necessary to -distinguish what is peculiarly his and what is not, or whether the -component parts are in harmony. In the Socratic Dialogues that we have -from Cicero, the personages can be much more readily made out; but in -Cicero there is nothing of real interest offered to us. With Plato -there can be no talk of this ambiguity, and the difficulty is only in -appearance. In the Dialogues of Plato his philosophy is quite clearly -expressed; they are not constructed as are the conversations of some -people, which consist of many monologues, in which one person expresses -a certain opinion and another person differs from him, and both hold -to their own way of thinking. Here, on the contrary, the divergency -of opinions which comes out is examined, and a conclusion arrived at -as to the truth; or, if the result is negative, the whole process of -knowledge is what is seen in Plato. There is, therefore, no need to -inquire further as to what belongs to Socrates in the Dialogues, and -what belongs to Plato. This further observation we must, however, make, -that since Philosophy in its ultimate essence is one and the same, -every succeeding philosopher will and must take up into his own, all -philosophies that went before, and what falls specially to him is their -further development. Philosophy is not a thing apart, like a work of -art; though even in a work of art it is the skill which the artist -learns from others that he puts into practice. What is original in the -artist is his conception as a whole, and the intelligent use of the -means already at his command; there may occur to him in working an -endless variety of ideas and discoveries of his own. But Philosophy -has one thought, one reality, as its foundation; and nothing can be -put in the place of the true knowledge of this already attained; it -must of necessity make itself evident in later developments. Therefore, -as I have already observed (Vol. I. p. 166), Plato’s Dialogues are -not to be considered as if their aim were to put forward a variety of -philosophies, nor as if Plato’s were an eclectic philosophy derived -from them; it forms rather the knot in which these abstract and -one-sided principles have become truly united in a concrete fashion. -In giving a general idea of the history of Philosophy, we have already -seen (Vol. I. p. 54) that such points of union, in which the true is -concrete, must occur in the onward course of philosophical development. -The concrete is the unity of diverse determinations and principles; -these, in order to be perfected, in order to come definitely before -the consciousness, must first of all be presented separately. Thereby -they of course acquire an aspect of one-sidedness in comparison with -the higher principle which follows: this, nevertheless, does not -annihilate them, nor even leave them where they were, but takes them -up into itself as moments. Thus in Plato’s philosophy we see all -manner of philosophic teaching from earlier times absorbed into a -deeper principle, and therein united. It is in this way that Plato’s -philosophy shows itself to be a totality of ideas: therefore, as the -result, the principles of others are comprehended in itself. Frequently -Plato does nothing more than explain the doctrines of earlier -philosophers; and the only particular feature in his representation -of them is that their scope is extended. His Timæus is, by unanimous -testimony, the amplification of a still extant work of Pythagoras;[14] -and, in like manner, his amplification of the doctrine of Parmenides -is of such a nature that its principle is freed from its one-sided -character. - -These last two difficulties having been disposed of, if we would -likewise solve the first mentioned, we must proceed to describe the -form in which Plato has propounded his ideas, keeping it, on the other -hand, distinct from Philosophy proper, as we find it with him. The -form of the Platonic philosophy is, as is well known, the dialogue. -The beauty of this form is highly attractive; yet we must not think, -as many do, that it is the most perfect form in which to present -Philosophy; it is peculiar to Plato, and as a work of art is of course -to be much esteemed. - -In the first place, scenery and dramatic form belong to what is -external. Plato gives to his Dialogues a setting of reality, both as -regards place and persons, and chooses out some particular occasion -which has brought his characters together; this in itself is very -natural and charming. Socrates takes the leading part, and among the -other actors there are many stars well known to us, such as Agathon, -Zeno, and Aristophanes. We find ourselves in some particular spot; in -the Phædrus (p. 229 Steph.; p. 6 Bekk.) it is at the plane tree beside -the clear waters of the Ilyssus, through which Socrates and Phædrus -pass; in other dialogues we are conducted to the halls of the gymnasia, -to the Academy, or to a banquet. By never allowing himself to appear -in person, but putting his thoughts always in the mouth of others, any -semblance of preaching or of dogmatizing is avoided by Plato, and the -narrator appears just as little as he does in the History of Thucydides -or in Homer. Xenophon sometimes brings himself forward, sometimes he -entirely loses sight of the aim he had in view, of vindicating by what -he tells of them the life of Socrates and his method of instruction. -With Plato, on the contrary, all is quite objective and plastic; and he -employs great art in removing from himself all responsibility for his -assertions, often assigning them even to a third or fourth person. - -As regards the tone of the intercourse between the characters in these -Dialogues, we find that the noblest urbanity of well-bred men reigns -supreme; the Dialogues are a lesson in refinement; we see in them the -_savoir faire_ of a man acquainted with the world. The term courtesy -does not quite express urbanity; it is too wide, and includes the -additional notion of testifying respect, of expressing deference and -personal obligation; urbanity is true courtesy, and forms its real -basis. But urbanity makes a point of granting complete liberty to all -with whom we converse, both as regards the character and matter of -their opinions, and also the right of giving expression to the same. -Thus in our counter-statements and contradictions we make it evident -that what we have ourselves to say against the statement made by our -opponent is the mere expression of our subjective opinion; for this -is a conversation carried on by persons as persons, and not objective -reason talking with itself. However energetically we may then express -ourselves, we must always acknowledge that our opponent is also a -thinking person; just as one must not take to speaking with the air -of being an oracle, nor prevent anyone else from opening his mouth -in reply. This urbanity is, however, not forbearance, but rather -the highest degree of frankness and candour, and it is this very -characteristic which gives such gracefulness to Plato’s Dialogues. - -Finally, this dialogue is not a conversation, in which what is said -has, and is meant to have, a merely casual connection, without any -exhaustive treatment of the subject. When one talks only for amusement, -the casual and arbitrary sequence of ideas is quite to be expected. In -the introduction, to be sure, the Dialogues of Plato have sometimes -this very character of being mere conversations, and consequently -appear to take an accidental form; for Socrates is made to take his -start from the particular conceptions of certain individuals, and from -the circle of their ideas (Vol. I. p. 397). Later, however, these -dialogues become a systematic development of the matter in hand, -wherein the subjective character of the conversation disappears, -and the whole course of the argument shows a beautifully consistent -dialectic process. Socrates talks, turns the conversation, lays down -his own views, draws a conclusion, and does all this through the -apparent instrumentality of the question; most questions are so framed -as to be answered by merely Yes or No. The dialogue seems to be the -form best adapted for representing an argument, because it sways hither -and thither; the different sides are allotted to different persons, and -thus the argument is made more animated. The dialogue has, however, -this disadvantage, that it seems to be carried on arbitrarily, so that -at the end the feeling always remains that the matter might have turned -out differently. But in the Platonic Dialogues this arbitrary character -is apparent only; it has been got rid of by limiting the development -to the development of the subject in hand, and by leaving very little -to be said by the second speaker. Such personages are, as we already -saw in connection with Socrates (Vol. I. p. 402), plastic personages -as regards the conversation; no one is put there to state his own -views, or, as the French express it, _pour placer son mot_. Just as -in the Catechism the answers are prescribed to the questions asked, -so is it in these dialogues, for they who answer have to say what the -author pleases. The question is so framed that a quite simple answer -is alone possible, and, thanks to the artistic beauty and power of the -dialogues, such an answer appears at the same time perfectly natural. - -In the next place, there is connected with this outward aspect of -personality the circumstance that the Platonic philosophy does not -proclaim itself to be one particular field, where some one begins a -science of his own in a sphere of his own; for it sometimes enters -into the ordinary conceptions of culture, like those of Socrates, -sometimes into those of the Sophists, at other times into those of -earlier philosophers, and in so doing brings before us exemplifications -from ordinary knowledge, and also uses the methods of the same. A -systematic exposition of Philosophy we cannot in this way find; and of -course it is all the less easy for us to take a comprehensive view of -the subject, since there are at hand no means of judging whether the -treatment has been exhaustive or not. Nevertheless, there is present -there one spirit, one definite point of view as regards Philosophy, -even though Mind does not make its appearance in the precise form which -we demand. The philosophic culture of Plato, like the general culture -of his time, was not yet ripe for really scientific work; the Idea was -still too fresh and new; it was only in Aristotle that it attained to a -systematic scientific form of representation. - -Connected with this deficiency in Plato’s mode of representation, there -is also a deficiency in respect of the concrete determination of the -Idea itself, since the various elements of the Platonic philosophy -which are represented in these dialogues, namely the merely popular -conceptions of Being and the apprehending knowledge of the same, -are really mixed up in a loose, popular way, so that the former -more especially come to be represented in a myth or parable; such -intermingling is inevitable in this beginning of science proper in its -true form. Plato’s lofty mind, which had a perception or conception -of Mind, penetrated through his subject with the speculative Notion, -but he only began to penetrate it thus, and he did not yet embrace -the whole of its reality in the Notion; or the knowledge which -appeared in Plato did not yet fully realize itself in him. Here it -therefore happens sometimes that the ordinary conception of reality -again separates itself from its Notion, and that the latter comes -into opposition with it, without any statement having been made that -the Notion alone constitutes reality. Thus we find Plato speaking of -God, and again, in the Notion, of the absolute reality of things, but -speaking of them as separated, or in a connection in which they both -appear separated; and God, as an uncomprehended existence, is made to -belong to the ordinary conception. Sometimes, in order to give greater -completeness and reality, in place of following out the Notion, mere -pictorial conceptions are introduced, myths, spontaneous imaginations -of his own, or tales derived from the sensuous conception, which no -doubt are determined by thought, but which this has never permeated in -truth, but only in such a way that the intellectual is determined by -the forms of ordinary conception. For instance, appearances of the body -or of nature, which are perceptible by the senses, are brought forward -along with thoughts regarding them, which do not nearly so completely -exhaust the subject as if it had been thoroughly thought out, and the -Notion allowed to pursue an independent course. - -Looking at this as it bears on the question of how Plato’s philosophy -is to be apprehended, we find, owing to these two circumstances, that -either too much or too little is found in it. Too much is found by the -ancients, the so-called -, who sometimes dealt with Plato’s philosophy -as they dealt with the Greek mythology. This they allegorized and -represented as the expression of ideas—which the myths certainly -are—and in the same way they first raised the ideas in Plato’s myths -to the rank of theorems: for the merit of Philosophy consists alone in -the fact that truth is expressed in the form of the Notion. Sometimes, -again, they took what with Plato is in the form of the Notion for the -expression of Absolute Being—the theory of Being in the Parmenides, for -instance, for the knowledge of God—just as if Plato had not himself -drawn a distinction between them. But in the pure Notions of Plato the -ordinary conception as such is not abrogated; either it is not said -that these Notions constitute its reality, or they are to Plato no more -than a conception, and not reality. Again, we certainly see that too -little is found in Plato by the moderns in particular; for they attach -themselves pre-eminently to the side of the ordinary conception, and -see in it reality. What in Plato relates to the Notion, or what is -purely speculative, is nothing more in their eyes than roaming about -in abstract logical notions, or than empty subtleties: on the other -hand, they take that for theorem which was enunciated as a popular -conception. Thus we find in Tennemann (Vol. II. p. 376) and others an -obstinate determination to lead back the Platonic Philosophy to the -forms of our former metaphysic, _e.g._ to the proof of the existence of -God. - -However much, therefore, Plato’s mythical presentation of Philosophy is -praised, and however attractive it is in his Dialogues, it yet proves a -source of misapprehensions; and it is one of these misapprehensions, if -Plato’s myths are held to be what is most excellent in his philosophy. -Many propositions, it is true, are made more easily intelligible by -being presented in mythical form; nevertheless, what is not the true -way of presenting them; propositions are thoughts which, in order to -be pure, must be brought forward as such. The myth is always a mode -of representation which, as belonging to an earlier stage, introduces -sensuous images, which are directed to imagination, not to thought; -in this, however, the activity of thought is suspended, it cannot yet -establish itself by its own power, and so is not yet free. The myth -belongs to the pedagogic stage of the human race, since it entices and -allures men to occupy themselves with the content; but as it takes away -from the purity of thought through sensuous forms, it cannot express -the meaning of Thought. When the Notion attains its full development, -it has no more need of the myth. Plato often says that it is difficult -to express one’s thoughts on such and such a subject, and he therefore -will employ a myth; no doubt this is easier. Plato also says of simple -Notions that they are dependent, transitory moments, which have their -ultimate truth in God; and in this first mention of God by Plato, He is -made a mere conception. Thus the manner of conception and the genuinely -speculative element are confounded. - -In order to gather Plato’s philosophy from his dialogues, what we have -to do is to distinguish what belongs to ordinary conception—especially -where Plato has recourse to myths for the presentation of a philosophic -idea—from the philosophic idea itself; only then do we know that what -belongs only to the ordinary conception, as such, does not belong to -thought, is not the essential. But if we do not recognize what is -Notion, or what is speculative, there is inevitably the danger of these -myths leading us to draw quite a host of maxims and theorems from the -dialogues, and to give them out as Plato’s philosophic propositions, -while they are really nothing of the kind, but belong entirely to -the manner of presentation. Thus, for instance, in the Timæus (p. 41 -Steph.; p. 43 Bekk.) Plato makes use of the form, God created the -world, and the dæmons had a certain share in the work; this is spoken -quite after the manner of the popular conception. If, however, it is -taken as a philosophic dogma on Plato’s part that God made the world, -that higher beings of a spiritual kind exist, and, in the creation of -the world, lent God a helping hand, we may see that this stands word -for word in Plato, and yet it does not belong to his philosophy. When -in pictorial fashion he says of the soul of man that it has a rational -and an irrational part, this is to be taken only in a general sense; -Plato does not thereby make the philosophic assertion that the soul -is compounded of two kinds of substance, two kinds of thing. When he -represents knowledge or learning as a process of recollection, this -may be taken to mean that the soul existed before man’s birth. In -like manner, when he speaks of the central point of his philosophy, -of Ideas, of the Universal, as the permanently self-existent, as the -patterns of things sensible, we may easily be led to think of these -Ideas, after the manner of the modern categories of the understanding, -as substances which exist outside reality, in the Understanding of -God; or on their own account and as independent—like the angels, for -example. In short, all that is expressed in the manner of pictorial -conception is taken by the moderns in sober earnest for philosophy. -Such a representation of Plato’s philosophy can be supported by Plato’s -own words; but one who knows what Philosophy is, cares little for such -expressions, and recognizes what was Plato’s true meaning. - -In the account of the Platonic philosophy to which I must now proceed, -the two cannot certainly be separated, but they must be noted and -judged of in a very different manner from that which has prevailed -amongst the moderns. We have, on the one hand, to make clear Plato’s -general conception of what Philosophy and Knowledge really are, and on -the other to develop the particular branches of Philosophy of which he -treats. - -In considering his general conception of Philosophy, the first point -that strikes us is the high estimation in which Plato held Philosophy. -The lofty nature of the knowledge of Philosophy deeply impressed him, -and he shows a real enthusiasm for the thought which deals with the -absolute. Just as the Cyrenaics treat of the relation of the existent -to the individual consciousness, and the Cynics assert immediate -freedom to be reality, Plato upholds the self-mediating unity of -consciousness and reality, or knowledge. He everywhere expresses the -most exalted ideas regarding the value of Philosophy, as also the -deepest and strongest sense of the inferiority of all else; he speaks -of it with the greatest energy and enthusiasm, with all the pride of -science, and in a manner such as nowadays we should not venture to -adopt. There is in him none of the so-called modest attitude of this -science towards other spheres of knowledge, nor of man towards God. -Plato has a full consciousness of how near human reason is to God, and -indeed of its unity with Him. Men do not mind reading this in Plato, an -ancient, because it is no longer a present thing, but were it coming -from a modern philosopher, it would be taken much amiss. Philosophy -to Plato is man’s highest possible possession and true reality; it -alone has to be sought of man. Out of many passages on this subject I -shall quote in the first instance the following from the Timæus (p. 47 -Steph.; p. 54 Bekk.): “Our knowledge of what is most excellent begins -with the eyes. The distinction between the visible day and the night, -the months and courses of the planets, have begotten a knowledge of -time, and awakened a desire to know the nature of the whole. From this -we then obtained Philosophy, and no greater gift than this, given by -God to man, has ever come or will come.” - -The manner in which Plato expresses his opinions on this subject in -the Republic is very well known, as it is greatly decried, because -it so completely contradicts the common ideas of men, and it is all -the more surprising in that it concerns the relation of Philosophy -to the state, and therefore to actuality. For before this, though -a certain value might indeed be attributed to Philosophy, it still -remained confined to the thoughts of the individual; here, however, -it goes forth into questions of constitution, government, actuality. -After Plato made Socrates, in the Republic, expound the nature of a -true state, he caused Glaucon to interrupt by expressing his desire -that Plato should show how it could be possible for such a state to -exist. Socrates parries the question, will not come to the point, -seeks evasive pleas, and tries to extricate himself by asserting that -in describing what is just, he does not bind himself to show how it -might be realized in actuality, though some indication must certainly -be given of how an approximate, if not a complete realization of it -might be possible. Finally, when pressed, he says: “Then it shall -be expressed, even though a flood of laughter and utter disbelief -overwhelm me. When philosophers rule the states, or the so-called kings -and princes of the present time are truly and completely philosophers, -when thus political greatness and Philosophy meet in one, and the many -natures who now follow either side to the exclusion of the other, come -together, then, and not till then, can there be an end, dear Glaucon, -either to the evils of the state or, as I believe, to those of the -human race. Then only will this state of which I spoke be possible or -see the light of day.” “This,” adds Socrates, “is what I have so long -hesitated to say, because I know that it is so much opposed to ordinary -ideas.” Plato makes Glaucon answer, “Socrates, you have expressed what, -you must recollect, would cause many men, and not bad men either, to -pull off their coats and seize the first weapon that comes to hand, and -set upon you one and all with might and main; and if you don’t know how -to appease them with your reasons, you will have to answer for it.”[15] - -Plato here plainly asserts the necessity for thus uniting Philosophy -with government. As to this demand, it may seem a piece of great -presumption to say that philosophers should have the government of -states accorded to them, for the territory or ground of history is -different from that of Philosophy. In history, the Idea, as the -absolute power, has certainly to realize itself; in other words, -God rules in the world. But history is the Idea working itself out -in a natural way, and not with the consciousness of the Idea. The -action is certainly in accordance with general reflections on what is -right, moral, and pleasing to God; but we must recognize that action -represents at the same time the endeavours of the subject as such for -particular ends. The realization of the Idea thus takes place through -an intermingling of thoughts and Notions with immediate and particular -ends. Hence it is only on the one side produced through thoughts, and -on the other through circumstances, through human actions in their -capacity of means. These means often seem opposed to the Idea, but that -does not really matter; all those particular ends are really only means -of bringing forth the Idea, because it is the absolute power. Hence the -Idea comes to pass in the world, and no difficulty is caused, but it is -not requisite that those who rule should have the Idea. - -In order, however, to judge of the statement that the regents of -the people should be philosophers, we must certainty consider what -was understood by Philosophy in the Platonic sense and in the sense -of the times. The word Philosophy has had in different periods very -different significations. There was a time when a man who did not -believe in spectres or in the devil was called a philosopher. When -such ideas as these pass away, it does not occur to people to call -anyone a philosopher for a reason such as this. The English consider -what we call experimental physics to be Philosophy; a philosopher to -them is anyone who makes investigations in, and possesses a theoretic -knowledge of chemistry, mechanics, &c. (Vol. I. p. 57). In Plato -Philosophy becomes mingled with the knowledge of the supersensuous, -or what to us is religious knowledge. The Platonic philosophy is thus -the knowledge of the absolutely true and right, the knowledge of -universal ends in the state, and the recognition of their validity. In -all the history of the migration of the nations, when the Christian -religion became the universal religion, the only point of interest was -to conceive the supersensuous kingdom—which was at first independent, -absolutely universal and true—as actualized, and to determine actuality -in conformity thereto. This has been from that time forth the business -of culture. A state, a government and constitution of modern times -has hence quite a different basis from a state of ancient times, and -particularly from one of Plato’s day. The Greeks were then altogether -dissatisfied with their democratic constitution, and the conditions -resulting from it (_supra_, p. 8), and similarly all philosophers -condemned the democracies of the Greek states in which such things -as the punishment of generals (_supra_, Vol. I. p. 391) took place. -In such a constitution it might certainly be thought that what was -best for the state would be the first subject of consideration; but -arbitrariness prevailed, and this was only temporarily restrained by -preponderating individualities, or by masters in statesmanship like -Aristides, Themistocles, and others. This condition of matters preceded -the disintegration of the constitution. In our states, on the other -hand, the end of the state, what is best for all, is immanent and -efficacious in quite another way than was the case in olden times. The -condition of the laws and courts of justice, of the constitution and -spirit of the people, is so firmly established in itself that matters -of the passing moment alone remain to be decided; and it may even be -asked what, if anything, is dependent on the individual. - -To us government means that in the actual state procedure will be in -accordance with the nature of the thing, and since a knowledge of the -Notion of the thing is requisite to this, actuality is brought into -harmony with the Notion, and thereby the Idea is realized in existence. -The result of this thus is that when Plato says that philosophers -should rule, he signifies the determination of the whole matter through -universal principles. This is realized much more in modern states, -because universal principles really form the bases—certainly not of -all, but of most of them. Some have already reached this stage, others -are striving to reach it, but all recognize that such principles must -constitute the real substance of administration and rule. - -What Plato demands is thus, in point of fact, already present. But what -we call Philosophy, movement in pure thoughts, has to do with form, and -this is something peculiar to itself; nevertheless, the form is not -responsible if the universal, freedom, law, is not made a principle in -a state. Marcus Aurelius is an example of what a philosopher upon a -throne could effect; we have, however, only private actions to record -of him, and the Roman Empire was made no better by him. Frederick -II. was, on the other hand, justly called the philosopher king. He -occupied himself with the Wolffian metaphysics and French philosophy -and verses, and was thus, according to his times, a philosopher. -Philosophy appears to have been an affair of his own particular -inclination, and quite distinct from the fact that he was king. But he -was also a philosophic king in the sense that he made for himself an -entirely universal end, the well-being and good of the state, a guiding -principle in his actions and in all his regulations in respect to -treaties with other states, and to the rights of individuals at home; -these last he entirely subordinated to absolutely universal ends. If, -however, later on, procedure of this kind became ordinary custom, the -succeeding princes are no longer called philosophers, even if the same -principle is present to them, and the government, and especially the -institutions, are founded on it. - -In the Republic, Plato further speaks in a figure of the difference -between a condition of philosophic culture and a lack of Philosophy: -it is a long comparison which is both striking and brilliant. The idea -which he makes use of is as follows:—“Let us think of an underground -den like a cave with a long entrance opening to the light. Its -inhabitants are chained so that they cannot move their necks, and can -see only the back of the cave. Far behind their backs a torch burns -above them. In the intervening space there is a raised way and also -a low wall; and behind this wall” (towards the light) “there are men -who carry and raise above it all manner of statues of men and animals -like puppets in a marionette show, sometimes talking to one another -meanwhile, and sometimes silent. Those who are chained would see only -the shadows which fall on the opposite wall, and they would take them -for reality; they would hear, moreover, by means of the echo, what -was said by those who moved the figures, and they would think that -it was the voice of the shadows. Now if one of the prisoners were -released, and compelled to turn his neck so as to see things as they -are, he would think that what he saw was an illusive dream, and that -the shadows were the reality. And if anyone were to take him out of -the prison into the light itself, he would be dazzled by the light and -could see nothing; and he would hate the person who brought him to the -light, as having taken away what was to him the truth, and prepared -only pain and evil in its place.”[16] This kind of myth is in harmony -with the character of the Platonic philosophy, in that it separates the -conception of the sensuous world present in men from the knowledge of -the supersensuous. - -Since we now speak more fully of this matter, we must in the second -place consider the nature of knowledge according to Plato, and in so -doing commence our account of the Platonic philosophy itself. - -a. Plato gave a more precise definition of philosophers as those -“who are eager to behold the truth.”—Glaucon: “That is quite right. -But how do you explain it?” Socrates: “I tell this not to everyone, -but you will agree with me in it.” “In what?” “In this, that as the -Beautiful is opposed to the Ugly, they are two things.” “Why not?” -“With the Just and the Unjust, the Good and the Evil, and every other -Idea (εἶδος) the case is the same, that each of them is by itself a -One; on the other hand, on account of its combination with actions and -bodies and other Ideas springing up on every side, each appears as a -Many.” “You are right.” “I distinguish now, according to this, between -the sight-loving, art-loving, busy class on the one side, and those -on the other side, of whom we were just speaking as alone entitled to -be called philosophers.” “What do you mean by that?” “I mean by that, -such as delight in seeing and hearing, who love beautiful voices, and -colours, and forms, and all that is composed thereof, while their -mind is still incapable of seeing and loving the Beautiful in its own -nature.” “Such is the case.” “Those, however, who have the power of -passing on to the Beautiful itself, and seeing what it is in itself -(καθ̓ αὐτό), are they not rare?” “They are indeed.” “He then who sees -that beautiful things are beautiful, but does not apprehend Beauty -itself, and cannot follow if another should seek to lead him to the -knowledge of the same,—think you that he lives his life awake, or in -a dream?” (That is to say, those who are not philosophers are like -men who dream.) “For look, is it not dreaming when one in sleep, or -even when awake, takes what merely resembles a certain thing to be not -something that resembles it, but the very thing that it is like?” “I -should certainly say of such an one that he was dreaming.” “The waking -man, on the other hand, is he who holds the Beautiful itself to be the -Existent, and can recognize its very self as well as that which only -partakes of it (μετέχονυα), and does not confuse between the two.”[17] - -In this account of Philosophy, we at once see what the so much talked -of Ideas of Plato are. The Idea is nothing else than that which is -known to us more familiarly by the name of the Universal, regarded, -however, not as the formal Universal, which is only a property of -things, but as implicitly and explicitly existent, as reality, as -that which alone is true. We translate εἶδος first of all as species -or kind; and the Idea is no doubt the species, but rather as it is -apprehended by and exists for Thought. Of course when we understand by -species nothing but the gathering together by our reflection, and for -convenience sake, of the like characteristics of several individuals -as indicating their distinguishing features, we have the universal in -quite an external form. But the specific character of the animal is its -being alive; this being alive is that which makes it what it is, and -deprived of this, it ceases to exist. To Plato, accordingly, Philosophy -is really the science of this implicitly universal, to which, as -contrasted with the particular, he always continues to return. “When -Plato spoke of tableness and cupness, Diogenes the Cynic said: ‘I see a -table and a cup, to be sure, but not tableness and cupness.’ ‘Right,’ -answered Plato; ‘for you have eyes wherewith to see the table and the -cup, but mind, by which one sees tableness and cupness, you have not -(νοῦν οὐκ ἔχεις).’”[18] What Socrates began was carried out by Plato, -who acknowledged only the Universal, the Idea, the Good, as that which -has existence. Through the presentation of his Ideas, Plato opened -up the intellectual world, which, however, is not beyond reality, in -heaven, in another place, but is the real world. With Leucippus, too, -the Ideal is brought closer to reality, and not—metaphysically—thrust -away behind Nature. The essence of the doctrine of Ideas is thus -the view that the True is not that which exists for the senses, but -that only what has its determination in itself, the implicitly and -explicitly Universal, truly exists in the world; the intellectual world -is therefore the True, that which is worthy to be known—indeed, the -Eternal, the implicitly and explicitly divine. The differences are not -essential, but only transitory; yet the Absolute of Plato, as being the -one in itself and identical with itself, is at the same time concrete -in itself, in that it is a movement returning into itself, and is -eternally at home with itself. But love for Ideas is that which Plato -calls enthusiasm. - -The misapprehension of Plato’s Ideas takes two directions; one of these -has to do with the thinking, which is formal, and holds as true reality -the sensuous alone, or what is conceived of through the senses—this -is what Plato asserts to be mere shadows. For when Plato speaks of -the Universal as the real, his conception of it is met either by the -statement that the Universal is present to us only as a property, and -is therefore a mere thought in our understanding, or else that Plato -takes this same Universal as substance, as an existence in itself, -which, however, falls outside of us. When Plato further uses the -expression that sensuous things are, like images (εἰκόνες), similar to -that which has absolute existence, or that the Idea is their pattern -and model (παραδεῖγμα), if these Ideas are not exactly made into -things, they are made into a kind of transcendent existences which -lie somewhere far from us in an understanding outside this world, and -are pictures set up which we merely do not see; they are like the -artist’s model, following which he works upon a given material, and -thereon impresses the likeness of the original. And owing to their -not only being removed from this sensuous present reality, which -passes for truth, but also being liberated from the actuality of the -individual consciousness, their subject, of which they are originally -the representations, passes out of consciousness, and even comes to be -represented only as something which is apart from consciousness. - -The second misapprehension that prevails with regard to these Ideas -takes place when they are not transferred beyond our consciousness, -but pass for ideals of our reason, which are no doubt necessary, but -which produce nothing that either has reality now or can ever attain to -it. As in the former view the Beyond is a conception that lies outside -the world, and in which species are hypostatized, so in this view -our reason is just such a realm beyond reality. But when species are -looked on as if they were the forms of reality in us, there is again a -misapprehension, just as if they were looked at as æsthetic in nature. -By so doing, they are defined as intellectual perceptions which must -present themselves immediately, and belong either to a happy genius -or else to a condition of ecstasy or enthusiasm. In such a case they -would be mere creations of the imagination, but this is not Plato’s nor -the true sense. They are not immediately in consciousness, but they -are in the apprehending knowledge; and they are immediate perceptions -only in so far as they are apprehending knowledge comprehended in its -simplicity and in relation to the result; in other words, the immediate -perception is only the moment of their simplicity. Therefore we do not -possess them, they are developed in the mind through the apprehending -knowledge; enthusiasm is the first rude shape they take, but knowledge -first brings them to light in rational developed form; they are in this -form none the less real, for they alone are Being. - -On this account Plato first of all distinguishes Science, the Knowledge -of the True, from opinion. “Such thinking (διάνοιαν) as of one who -knows, we may justly call knowledge (γνώμην); but the other, opinion -(δόξαν). Knowledge proceeds from that which is; opinion is opposed to -it; but it is not the case that its content is Nothing—that would be -ignorance—for when an opinion is held, it is held about Something. -Opinion is thus intermediate between ignorance and science, its content -is a mixture of Being and Nothing. The object of the senses, the object -of opinion, the particular, only participates in the Beautiful, the -Good, the Just, the Universal; but it is at the same time also ugly, -evil, unjust, and so on. The double is at the same time the half. The -particular is not only large or small, light or heavy, and any one of -these opposites, but every particular is as much the one as the other. -Such a mixture of Being and non-Being is the particular, the object -of opinion;”[19]—a mixture in which the opposites have not resolved -themselves into the Universal. The latter would be the speculative -Idea of knowledge, while to opinion belongs the manner of our ordinary -consciousness. - -b. Before we commence the examination of the objective implicitly -existent content of knowledge, we must consider more in detail, on the -one hand, the subjective existence of knowledge in consciousness as we -find it in Plato, and, on the other, how the content is or appears in -ordinary conception as soul; and the two together form the relation of -knowledge, as the universal, to the individual consciousness. - -α. The source through which we become conscious of the divine is the -same as that already seen in Socrates (Vol. I. pp. 410, 411). The -spirit of man contains reality in itself, and in order to learn what is -divine he must develop it out of himself and bring it to consciousness. -With the Socratics this discussion respecting the immanent nature of -knowledge in the mind of man takes the form of a question as to whether -virtue can be taught or not, and with the sophist Protagoras of asking -whether feeling is the truth, which is allied with the question of the -content of scientific knowledge, and with the distinction between that -and opinion. But Plato goes on to say that the process by which we -come to know is not, properly speaking, learning, for that which we -appear to learn we really only recollect. Plato often comes back to -this subject, but in particular he treats of the point in the Meno, -in which he asserts (p. 81, 84 Steph.; p. 349, 355, 356 Bekk.) that -nothing can, properly speaking, be learned, for learning is just a -recollection of what we already possess, to which the perplexity in -which our minds are placed, merely acts as stimulus. Plato here gives -the question a speculative significance, in which the reality of -knowledge, and not the empirical view of the acquisition of knowledge, -is dealt with. For learning, according to the immediate ordinary -conception of it, expresses the taking up of what is foreign into -thinking consciousness, a mechanical mode of union and the filling of -an empty space with things which are foreign and indifferent to this -space itself. An external method of effecting increase such as this, -in which the soul appears to be a _tabula rasa_, and which resembles -the idea we form of growth going on in the living body through the -addition of particles, is dead, and is incompatible with the nature -of mind, which is subjectivity, unity, being and remaining at home -with itself. But Plato presents the true nature of consciousness in -asserting that it is mind in which, as mind, that is already present -which becomes object to consciousness, or which it explicitly becomes. -This is the Notion of the true universal in its movement; of the -species which is in itself its own Becoming, in that it is already -implicitly what it explicitly becomes—a process in which it does not -come outside of itself. Mind is this absolute species, whose process -is only the continual return into itself; thus nothing is for it which -it is not in itself. According to this, the process of learning is -not that something foreign enters in, but that the mind’s own essence -becomes actualized, or it comes to the knowledge of this last. What has -not yet learned is the soul, the consciousness represented as natural -being. What causes the mind to turn to science is the semblance, and -the confusion caused through it, of the essential nature of mind being -something different, or the negative of itself—a mode of manifestation -which contradicts its real nature, for it has or is the inward -certainty of being all reality. In that it abrogates this semblance -of other-being, it comprehends the objective, _i.e._ gives itself -immediately in it the consciousness of itself, and thus attains to -science. Ideas of individual, temporal, transitory things undoubtedly -come from without, but not the universal thoughts which, as the true, -have their root in the mind and belong to its nature; by this means all -authority is destroyed. - -In one sense recollection [Erinnerung] is certainly an unfortunate -expression, in the sense, namely, that an idea is reproduced which -has already existed at another time. But recollection has another -sense, which is given by its etymology, namely that of making oneself -inward, going inward, and this is the profound meaning of the word in -thought. In this sense it may undoubtedly be said that knowledge of -the universal is nothing but a recollection, a going within self, and -that we make that which at first shows itself in external form and -determined as a manifold, into an inward, a universal, because we go -into ourselves and thus bring what is inward in us into consciousness. -With Plato, however, as we cannot deny, the word recollection has -constantly the first and empirical sense. This comes from the fact -that Plato propounds the true Notion that consciousness in itself -is the content of knowledge, partly in the form of popular idea and -in that of myths. Hence here even, the already mentioned (p. 18) -intermingling of idea and Notion commences. In the Meno (p. 82-86 -Steph.; p. 350-360 Bekk.) Socrates tries to show, by experiment on a -slave who had received no instruction, that learning is a recollection. -Socrates merely questions him, leaving him to answer in his own way, -without either teaching him or asserting the truth of any fact, and -at length brings him to the enunciation of a geometrical proposition -on the relation which the diagonal of a square bears to its side. The -slave obtains the knowledge out of himself alone, so that it appears as -though he only recollected what he already knew but had forgotten. Now -if Plato here calls this coming forth of knowledge from consciousness a -recollection, it follows that this knowledge has been already in this -consciousness, _i.e._ that the individual consciousness has not only -the content of knowledge implicitly, in accordance with its essential -nature, but has also possessed it as this individual consciousness and -not as universal. But this moment of individuality belongs only to the -ordinary conception, and recollection is not thought; for recollection -relates to man as a sensuous “this,” and not as a universal. The -essential nature of the coming forth of knowledge is hence here mingled -with the individual, with ordinary conception, and knowledge here -appears in the form of soul, as of the implicitly existent reality, -the one, for the soul is still only a moment of spirit. As Plato here -passes into a conception the content of which has no longer the pure -significance of the universal, but of the individual, he further -depicts it in the form of a myth. He represents the implicit existence -of mind in the form of a pre-existence in time, as if the truth had -already been for us in another time. But at the same time we must -remark that he does not propound this as a philosophic doctrine, but -in the form of a saying received from priests and priestesses who -comprehend what is divine. Pindar and other holy men say the same. -According to these sayings, the human soul is immortal; it both ceases -to be, or, as men say, it dies, and it comes again into existence, but -in no way perishes. “Now if the soul is immortal and often reappears” -(metempsychosis), “and if it has seen that which is here as well as -in Hades,” (in unconsciousness) “and everything else, learning has no -more meaning, for it only recollects what it has already known.”[20] -Historians seize upon this allusion to what is really an Egyptian -idea, and a sensuous conception merely, and say that Plato has laid -down that such and such was the case. But Plato made no such statement -whatever; what he here says has nothing to do with Philosophy, and more -particularly nothing to do with his philosophy, any more than what -afterwards is said regarding God. - -β. In other Dialogues this myth is further and more strikingly -developed; it certainly employs remembrance in its ordinary sense, -which is that the mind of man has in past time seen that which comes -to his consciousness as the true and absolutely existent. Plato’s -principal effort is, however, to show through this assertion of -recollection, that the mind, the soul, thought, is on its own account -free, and this has to the ancients, and particularly to the Platonic -idea, a close connection with what we call immortality of the soul. - -αα. In the Phædrus (p. 245 Steph.; p. 38 Bekk.) Plato speaks of this -in order to show that the Eros is a divine madness (μανία), and is -given to us as the greatest happiness. It is a state of enthusiasm, -which here has a powerful, predominating aspiration towards the Idea -(_supra_, p. 30): but it is not an enthusiasm proceeding from the heart -and feeling, it is not an ordinary perception, but a consciousness -and knowledge of the ideal. Plato says that he must expound the -nature of the divine and human soul in order to demonstrate the -Eros. “The first point is that the soul is immortal. For what moves -itself is immortal and eternal, but what obtains its movement from -another is transient. What moves itself is the first principle, for -it certainly has its origin and first beginning in itself and derived -from no other. And just as little can it cease to move, for that alone -can cease which derives its motion from another.” Plato thus first -develops the simple Notion of the soul as of the self-moving, and, -thus far, an element in mind; but the proper life of the mind in and -for itself is the consciousness of the absolute nature and freedom -of the “I.” When we speak of the immortality of the soul, the idea -is most frequently present to us that the soul is like a physical -thing which has qualities of all kinds, and while these can certainly -be changed, it yet seems that, as being independent of them, it is -not subject to change. Now thought is one of these qualities, which -are thus independent of the thing; and thought is also here defined -as a thing, and as if it could pass away or cease to be. As regards -this point, the main feature of the idea is that the soul should be -able to subsist as an imperishable thing without having imagination, -thought, &c. With Plato the immortality of the soul is, on the other -hand, immediately connected with the fact that the soul is itself that -which thinks; and hence that thought is not a quality of soul, but its -substance. It is as with body, where the weight is not a quality, but -its substance; for as the body would no longer exist if the weight -were abstracted, the soul would not exist if thought were taken away. -Thought is the activity of the universal, not an abstraction, but the -reflection into self and the positing of self that takes place in all -conceptions. Now because thought is an eternal which remains at home -with itself in every change, soul preserves its identity in what is -different, just as, for instance, in sensuous perception it deals with -what is different, with outside matter, and is yet at home with itself. -Immortality has not then the interest to Plato which it has to us from -a religious point of view; in that to him it is associated in greater -measure with the nature of thought, and with the inward freedom of -the same, it is connected with the determination that constitutes the -principle of what is specially characteristic of Platonic philosophy, -it is connected with the supersensuous groundwork which Plato has -established. To Plato the immortality of the soul is hence likewise of -great importance. - -He proceeds: “To seek to make clear the Idea of the soul would involve -investigation laborious for any but a god; but the tongue of man may -speak of this more easily through a figure.” Here follows an allegory -in which there is, however, something extravagant and inconsistent. -He says: “The soul resembles the united power of a chariot and -charioteer.” This image expresses nothing to us. “Now the horses” (the -desires) “of the gods and the charioteers are good, and of a good -breed. With us men, the charioteer at first takes the reins, but one -of the horses only is noble and good and of noble origin; the other -is ignoble and of ignoble origin. As might be expected, the driving -is very difficult. How mortal differ from immortal creatures, we -must endeavour to discover. The soul has the care of the inanimate -everywhere, and traverses the whole heavens, passing from one idea -to another. When perfect and fully winged, she soars upwards” (has -elevated thoughts), “and is the ruler of the universe. But the soul -whose wings droop roams about till she has found solid ground; then -she takes an earthly form which is really moved by her power, and the -whole, the soul and body, put together, is called a living creature, -a mortal.”[21] The one is thus the soul as thought, existence in and -for itself; the other is the union with matter. This transition from -thought to body is very difficult, too difficult for the ancients to -understand; we shall find more about it in Aristotle. From what has -been said, we may find the ground for representing Plato as maintaining -the dogma that the soul existed independently prior to this life, and -then lapsed into matter, united itself to it, contaminating itself by -so doing, and that it is incumbent on it to leave matter again. The -fact that the spiritual realizes itself from itself is a point not -sufficiently examined by the ancients; they take two abstractions, -soul and matter, and the connection is expressed only in the form of a -deterioration on the part of soul. - -“But as to the immortal,” continues Plato, “if we do not express it -in accordance with an apprehending thought, but form an ordinary -conception of it, owing to our lack of insight and power to comprehend -the nature of God, we conclude that the immortal life of God is that -which has a body and soul which, however, are united in one nature -(συμπεφυκότα),[22] i.e. not only externally but intrinsically made one. -Soul and body are both abstractions, but life is the unity of both; -and because God’s nature is to popular conception the holding of body -and soul unseparated in one, He is the Reason whose form and content -are an undivided unity in themselves.” This is an important definition -of God—a great idea which is indeed none other than the definition -of modern times. It signifies the identity of subjectivity and -objectivity, the inseparability of the ideal and real, that is, of soul -and body. The mortal and finite is, on the contrary, correctly defined -by Plato as that of which the existence is not absolutely adequate to -the Idea, or, more definitely, to subjectivity. - -Plato now further explains what happens in the life of the divine -Being, which drama the soul thus has before it, and how the wasting -of its wings occurs. “The chariots of the gods enter in bands, led -by Zeus, the mighty leader, from his winged chariot. An array of -other gods and goddesses follow him, marshalled in eleven bands. They -present—each one fulfilling his work—the noblest and most blessed of -scenes. The colourless and formless and intangible essence requires -thought, the lord of the soul, as its only spectator, and thus -true knowledge takes its rise. For there it sees what is (τὸ ὄν), -and lives in the contemplation of reality, because it follows in -an ever-recurring revolution” (of ideas). “In this revolution” (of -gods), “it beholds justice, temperance, and knowledge, not in the -form of what men call things, for it sees what in truth is absolute -(τὸ ὄντως ὄν).” This is thus expressed as though it were something -which had happened. “When the soul returns from thus beholding, the -charioteer puts up his horses at the stall, gives them ambrosia to eat -and nectar to drink. This is the life of the gods. But other souls, -through fault of charioteer or horses, fall into confusion, with -broken wings depart from these heavenly places, cease to behold the -truth, nourish themselves on opinion as their food, and fall to the -ground; according as a soul has beheld more or less of truth, it takes -a higher or lower place. In this condition it retains a recollection -of what it has seen, and if it perceives anything beautiful or right, -it is rapt in amazement. The wings once more obtain strength, and -the soul, particularly that of a philosopher, recollects its former -condition in which, however, it had not seen what was beautiful, just, -etc., but beauty and justice themselves.”[23] Thus because the life -of the gods is for the soul, when in individual beauty it is reminded -of the universal, it is implied that in the soul, as thus absolutely -existing, there is the Idea of the beautiful, good and just, as -absolute and as potentially and actually universal. This constitutes -the general principle of the Platonic conception. But when Plato speaks -of knowledge as of a recollection, he knows all the time that this is -only putting the matter in similes and metaphors; he did not ask, as -theologians used gravely to do, whether the soul had existed before its -birth, and, if so, in what particular place. It cannot be said of Plato -that he had any such belief, and he never speaks of the matter in the -sense that theologians did; in the same way he never spoke about a Fall -from a perfect state, for example, as if man had to look on the present -life as an imprisonment. But what Plato expressed as the truth is that -consciousness in the individual is in reason the divine reality and -life; that man perceives and recognizes it in pure thought, and that -this knowledge is itself the heavenly abode and movement. - -ββ. Knowledge in the form of soul, is more clearly dealt with in -the Phædo, where Plato has further developed the ideas about the -immortality of the soul. What in the Phædrus is kept definitely apart -as myth and truth respectively, and which is made to appear as such, -appears less evidently so in the Phædo—that celebrated dialogue in -which Plato makes Socrates speak of the immortality of the soul. That -Plato should have connected this discussion with the account of the -death of Socrates has in all time been matter of admiration. Nothing -could seem more suitable than to place the conviction of immortality -in the mouth of him who is in the act of leaving life, and to make -this conviction living to us through the scene, just as, on the other -hand, a death-scene like this is made living to us through that -conviction. We must at the same time remark that in what is fitting the -following conditions are implied. It must first be really appropriate -for the dying person to occupy himself with himself instead of with -the universal, with this certainty of himself as a “this” instead of -with the Truth. We hence here meet with the ordinary point of view -but slightly separated from that of the Notion, but, although this is -so, this ordinary point of view is far removed from sinking into that -coarse conception of the soul which considers it to be a thing, and -asks about its continuance or subsistence as if it were a thing. Thus -we find Socrates expressing himself to the effect that the body and -what relates to the body is a hindrance in striving after wisdom, the -sole business of Philosophy, because the sensuous perception shows -nothing purely, or as it is in itself, and what is true becomes known -through the removal of the spiritual from the corporeal. For justice, -beauty and such things are what alone exists in verity; they are that -to which all change and decay is foreign; and these are not perceived -through the body, but only in the soul.[24] - -We see in this separation the essence of the soul not considered in -a material category of Being, but as the universal; we see it still -more in what follows, by which Plato proves immortality. A principal -point in this argument is that already considered, that the soul has -existed before this life, because learning is only a recollection,[25] -and this implies that the soul is already implicitly what it becomes. -We must not think that the bald conception of innate ideas is hereby -indicated—such an expression implies the existence of ideas by nature, -as though our thoughts were in part already implanted, and had in part -a natural existence which did not first produce itself through the -movement of the mind. But Plato mainly founds the idea of immortality -on the fact that what is put together is liable to dissolution and -decay, while the simple can in no manner be dissolved or destroyed; -what is always like itself and the same, is, however, simple. The -beautiful, the good, the like, being simple, are incapable of all -change; that, on the contrary, in which these universals are, men, -things, &c., are the changeable. They are perceptible by the senses, -while the former is the supersensuous. Hence the soul which is in -thought, and which applies itself to this, as to what is related -to it, must therefore be held to have itself a simple nature.[26] -Here, then, we again see that Plato does not take simplicity as the -simplicity of a thing—not as if it were of anything like a chemical -ingredient, for example, which can no longer be represented as -inherently distinguished; this would only be empty, abstract identity -or universality, the simple as an existent. - -But finally the universal really does appear to take the form of an -existent, as Plato makes Simmias assert: a harmony which we hear is -none else than a universal, a simple which is a unity of the diverse; -but this harmony is associated with a sensuous thing and disappears -with it, just as music does with the lyre. On the other hand Plato -makes Socrates show that the soul is not a harmony in this sense, -for the sensuous harmony first exists after its elements, and is -a consequence that follows from them. The harmony of the soul is, -however, in and for itself, before every sensuous thing. Sensuous -harmony may further have diversities within it, while the harmony of -the soul has no quantitative distinction.[27] From this it is clear -that Plato receives the reality of the soul entirely in the universal, -and does not place its true being in sensuous individuality, and hence -the immortality of the soul cannot in his case be understood in the -ordinary acceptation, as that of an individual thing. Although later -on we come across the myth of the sojourn of the soul after death in -another and more brilliant earth,[28] we have seen above (pp. 40, 41) -what kind of heaven this would be. - -γ. The development and culture of the soul must be taken in connection -with what precedes. However the idealism of Plato must not be thought -of as being subjective idealism, and as that false idealism which -has made its appearance in modern times, and which maintains that we -do not learn anything, are not influenced from without, but that all -conceptions are derived from out of the subject. It is often said -that idealism means that the individual produces from himself all -his ideas, even the most immediate. But this is an unhistoric, and -quite false conception; if we take this rude definition of idealism, -there have been no idealists amongst the philosophers, and Platonic -idealism is certainly far removed from anything of the kind. In the -seventh book of his Republic (p. 518 Steph., pp. 333, 334 Bekk.) Plato -says in connection with what I have already stated (pp. 27-29), and in -particular reference to the manner in which this learning is created, -by which the universal which before was secreted in the mind, developes -out of it alone: “We must believe of science and learning (παιδείας), -that its nature is not as some assert” (by this he means the Sophists), -“who speak of culture as though knowledge were not contained within -the soul, but could be implanted therein as sight into blind eyes.” -The idea that knowledge comes entirely from without is in modern times -found in empirical philosophies of a quite abstract and rude kind, -which maintain that everything that man knows of the divine nature -comes as a matter of education and habituation, and that mind is thus a -quite indeterminate potentiality merely. Carried to an extreme, this is -the doctrine of revelation in which everything is given from without. -In the Protestant religion we do not find this rude idea in its -abstract form, for the witness of the spirit is an essential part of -faith, _i.e._ faith demands that the individual subjective spirit shall -on its own account accept and set forth the determination which comes -to it in the form of something given from without. Plato speaks against -any such idea, for, in relation to the merely popularly expressed myth -given above, he says: “Reason teaches that every man possesses the -inherent capacities of the soul and the organ with which he learns. -That is, just as we might imagine the eye not capable of turning from -darkness to light otherwise than with the whole body, so must we be -turned with the whole soul from the world of Becoming” (contingent -feelings and ideas) “to that of Being, and the soul must gradually -learn to endure this sight, and to behold the pure light of Being. But -we say that this Being is the good. The art of so doing is found in -culture, as being the art of the conversion of the soul—that is, the -manner in which a person can most easily and effectually be converted; -it does not seek to implant (ἐμποιῆσαι) sight, but—inasmuch as he -already possesses it only it has not been properly turned upon himself -and hence he does not see the objects that he ought to see—it brings it -into operation. The other virtues of the soul are more in conformity -with the body; they are not originally in the soul, but come gradually -through exercise and habit. Thought (τὸ φρονῆσαι) on the contrary, -as divine, never loses its power, and only becomes good or evil -through the manner of this conversion.” This is what Plato establishes -in regard to the inward and the outward. Such ideas as that mind -determines the good from out of itself are to us much more familiar -than to Plato; but it was by Plato that they were first maintained. - -_c._ In that Plato places truth in that alone which is produced through -thought, and yet the source of knowledge is manifold—in feelings, -sensations, &c.—we must state the different kinds of knowledge, as -given by Plato. Plato is entirely opposed to the idea that the truth -is given through sensuous consciousness, which is what is known and -that from which we start; for this is the doctrine of the Sophists -with which we met in dealing with Protagoras, for instance. As regards -feeling, we easily make the mistake of placing everything in feeling, -as indeed that Platonic rage for beauty contained the truth in the -guise of feeling; but this is not the true form of the truth, because -feeling is the entirely subjective consciousness. Feeling as such is -merely a form with which men make the arbitrary will the principle of -the truth, for what is the true content is not given through feeling; -in it every content has a place. The highest content must likewise -be found in feeling; to have a thing in thought and understanding is -quite different from having it in heart and feeling, _i.e._ in our -most inward subjectivity, in this “I”; and we say of the content that -it is for the first time in its proper place when it is in the heart, -because it then is entirely identical with our individuality. The -mistake, however, is to say that a content is true because it is in -our feeling. Hence the importance of Plato’s doctrine that the content -becomes filled by thought alone; for it is the universal which can -be grasped by the activity of thought alone. Plato has defined this -universal content as Idea. - -At the close of the sixth book of the Republic (pp. 509-511 Steph.; pp. -321-325 Bekk.) Plato distinguishes the sensuous and the intellectual in -our knowledge more exactly, so that in each sphere he again presents -two modes of consciousness. “In the sensuous (ὁρατόν) the one division -is the external manifestation, for in it are shadows, reflections in -water, and also in solid, smooth, and polished bodies, and the like. -The second section, of which this is only the resemblance, includes -animals, plants” (this concrete life), “and everything in art. The -intelligible (νοητόν) is also divided into two parts. In the one -sub-division the soul uses the sensuous figures given before, and is -obliged to work on hypotheses (ἐξ ὑποθέσεων) because it does not go to -the principle but to the result.” Reflection, which is not on its own -account sensuous, but undoubtedly belongs to thought, mingles thought -with the first sensuous consciousness, although its object is not as -yet a pure existence of the understanding. “The other division” (what -is thought in the soul itself) “is that in which the soul, proceeding -from an hypothesis, makes its way (μέθοδον) to a principle which is -above hypotheses, not by means of images, as in the former cases, but -through the ideas themselves. Those who study geometry, arithmetic, and -kindred sciences, assume the odd and the even, the figures, three kinds -of angles, and the like. And since they start from these hypotheses, -they do not think it necessary to give any account of them, for -everybody is supposed to know them. You further know that they make -use of figures which are risible, and speak of them, although they -are not thinking of them, but of the ideals which they represent; for -they think of the” (absolute) “square itself and of its diagonals, and -not of the” (sensuous) “images that they draw. And so it is with other -things.” Thus, according to Plato, this is certainly the place where -real knowledge begins, because we have nothing further to do with the -sensuous as such; at the same time this is not the true knowledge which -considers the spiritual universal on its own account, but the arguing -and reasoning knowledge that forms universal laws and particular kinds -or species out of what is sensuous. “These figures which they draw or -make, and which also have shadows and images in water, they use only as -images, and seek to behold their originals, which can only be seen with -the understanding” (διανοίᾳ).—“That is true.”—“This I have named above -that species of the intelligible, in inquiring into which the soul -is compelled to use hypotheses, not proceeding to a first principle, -because it is not able to get above those hypotheses, but employing -those secondary images as images which are made absolutely similar to -the originals in every respect”—“I understand that you are speaking of -geometry and the kindred arts”—“Now learn about the other division of -the intelligible in which reason (λόγος) itself is concerned, since -by the power of the dialectic it makes use of hypotheses, not as -principles but only as hypotheses—that is to say, as steps and points -of departure in order to reach a region above hypotheses, the first -principle of all” (which is in and for itself), “and clinging to this -and to that which depends on this, it descends again to the result, -for it requires no sensuous aid at all, but only ideas, and thus it -reaches the ideas finally through the ideas themselves.” To know this -is the interest and business of Philosophy; this is investigated by -pure thought in and for itself, which only moves in such pure thoughts. -“I understand you, but not perfectly. You seem to me to wish to assert -that what is contemplated in Being and Knowledge through the science -of dialectic is clearer than what is contemplated by the so-called -sciences which have hypotheses as their principle, and where those who -contemplate them have to do so with the understanding and not with the -senses. Yet because in their contemplation they do not ascend to the -absolute principle, but speculate from hypotheses, they appear not to -exercise thought (νοῦν) upon these objects, although these objects are -cognizable by thought if a principle is added to them (νοητῶν ὄντων -μετὰ ἀρχῆς). The methods (ἕξιν) of geometry and its kindred sciences -you appear to me to call understanding; and that because it stands -midway between reason (νοῦς) and ‘sensuous’ opinion (δόξα).”—“You have -quite grasped my meaning. Corresponding to these four sections, I -will suppose four faculties (παθήματα) in the soul—conceiving reason -(νόησις) has the highest place (ἐπὶ τῷ ἀνωτάτῳ), understanding the -second; the third is called faith (πίστις)”—the true conception for -animals and plants in that they are living, homogeneous and identical -with ourselves; “and the last the knowledge of images (εἰκασία),” -opinion. “Arrange them according to the fact that each stage has as -much clearness (σαφηνείας) as that to which it is related has truth.” -This is the distinction which forms the basis of Plato’s philosophy, -and which came to be known from his writings. - -Now if we go from knowledge to its content, in which the Idea -becomes sundered, and thereby organizes itself more completely into -a scientific system, this content, according to Plato, begins to -fall into three parts which we distinguish as the logical, natural, -and mental philosophy. The logical Philosophy the ancients called -dialectic, and its addition to philosophy is by the ancient writers on -the subject ascribed to Plato (Vol. I. p. 387). This is not a dialectic -such as we met with in the Sophists, which merely brings one’s ideas -altogether into confusion, for this first branch of Platonic philosophy -is the dialectic which moves in pure Notions—the movement of the -speculatively logical, with which several dialogues, and particularly -that of Parmenides, occupy themselves. The second, according to Plato, -is a kind of natural philosophy, the principles of which are more -especially propounded in the Timæus. The third is the philosophy of -the mind—an ethical philosophy—and its representation is essentially -that of a perfect state in the Republic. The Critias should be taken -in connection with the Timæus and the Republic, but we need not make -further reference to it, for it is only a fragment. Plato makes these -three dialogues one connected conversation. In the Critias and the -Timæus the subject is so divided that while the Timæus dealt with the -speculative origin of man and of nature, the Critias was intended to -represent the ideal history of human culture, and to be a philosophical -history of the human race, forming the ancient history of the Athenians -as preserved by the Egyptians. Of this, however, only the beginning -has come down to us.[29] Hence if the Parmenides be taken along with -the Republic and the Timæus, the three together constitute the whole -Platonic system of philosophy divided into its three parts or sections. -We now wish to consider the philosophy of Plato more in detail in -accordance with these three different points of view. - - -1. DIALECTIC. - -We have already remarked by way of preparation that the Notion of true -dialectic is to show forth the necessary movement of pure Notions, -without thereby resolving these into nothing; for the result, simply -expressed, is that they are this movement, and the universal is just -the unity of these opposite Notions. We certainly do not find in Plato -a full consciousness that this is the nature of dialectic, but we find -dialectic itself present; that is, we find absolute existence thus -recognized in pure Notions, and the representation of the movement of -these Notions. What makes the study of the Platonic dialectic difficult -is the development and the manifestation of the universal out of -ordinary conceptions. This beginning, which appears to make knowledge -easier, really makes the difficulty greater, since it introduces us -into a field in which there is quite a different standard from what -we have in reason, and makes this field present to us; when, on the -contrary, progression and motion take place in pure Notions alone, the -other is not remembered at all. But in that very way the Notions attain -greater truth. For otherwise pure logical movement might easily appear -to us to exist on its own account, like a private territory, which has -another region alongside of it, also having its own particular place. -But since both are there brought together, the speculative element -begins to appear as it is in truth; that is, as being the only truth, -and that, indeed, through the transformation of sensuous opinion into -thought. For in our consciousness we first of all find the immediate -individual, the sensuous real; or there are also categories of the -understanding which are held by us to be ultimate and true. But -contrasted with merely external reality, it is rather the ideal that -is the most real, and it was Plato who perceived that it was the only -real, for he characterized the universal or thought as the true, in -opposition to what is sensuous. - -Thus the aim of many of Plato’s Dialogues, which conclude without any -positive affirmation (Vol. I. p. 406; II. p. 13), is to show that the -immediately existent, the many things that appear to us, although we -may have quite true conceptions of them, are still not in themselves, -in an objective sense, the true, because they alter and are determined -through their relation to something else and not through themselves; -thus we must even in the sensuous individuals consider the universal, -or what Plato has called the Idea (p. 29). The sensuous, limited, -and finite is, in fact, both itself and the other, which is also -considered as existent; and thus there is an unsolved contradiction, -for the other has dominion in the first. We have been before reminded -(Vol. I. p. 404; II. p. 33) that the aim of the Platonic dialectic is -to confuse and to resolve the finite ideas of men, in order to bring -about in their consciousness what science demands, the consideration -of that which is. By being thus directed against the form of the -finite, dialectic has in the first place the effect of confounding the -particular, and this is brought about by the negation therein present -being shown forth, so that, in fact, it is proved that it is not what -it is, but that it passes into its opposite, into the limitations -which are essential to it. But if this dialectic is laid hold of, -the particular passes away and becomes another than that which it is -taken to be. Formal philosophy cannot look at dialectic in any other -way than as being the art of confusing ordinary conceptions or even -Notions, and demonstrating their nullity, thus making their result to -be merely negative. For this reason, Plato in his Republic (VII. pp. -538, 539, Steph.; pp. 370, 371, Bekk.) advised the citizens not to -allow dialectic to be studied before the thirtieth year, because by its -means anyone might transform the beautiful, as he had received it from -his masters, into that which is hateful. We find this dialectic a great -deal in Plato, both in the more Socratic and moralizing dialogues, and -in the many dialogues which relate to the conceptions of the Sophists -in regard to science. - -In connection with this, the second part of dialectic makes its first -aim the bringing of the universal in men to consciousness, which, as -we formerly remarked when speaking of Socrates (Vol. I. p. 398), was -the main interest of Socratic culture. From this time on, we may look -at such an aim as having been discarded, and simply remark that a -number of Plato’s Dialogues merely aim at bringing to consciousness a -general conception, such as we have without taking any trouble at all -(Vol. I. pp. 403, 404); hence this prolixity on Plato’s part often -wearies us. This dialectic is, indeed, also a movement of thought, -but it is really only necessary in an external way and for reflecting -consciousness, in order to allow the universal, what is in and for -itself, unalterable and immortal, to come forth. Hence these first two -sides of the dialectic, directed as they are towards the dissolution of -the particular and thus to the production of the universal, are not yet -dialectic in its true form: it is a dialectic which Plato has in common -with the Sophists, who understood very well how to disintegrate the -particular. A subject which Plato very often treats of with this end in -view, is virtue, which he proves to be only one (Vol. I. pp. 405, 411), -and thereby he makes the universal good emerge from the particular -virtues. - -Now because the universal which has emerged from the confusion of the -particular, _i.e._ the true, beautiful and good, that which taken by -itself is species, was at first undetermined and abstract, it is, in -the third place, a principal part of Plato’s endeavours further to -determine this universal in itself. This determination is the relation -which the dialectic movement in thought bears to the universal, for -through this movement the Idea comes to these thoughts which contain -the opposites of the finite within themselves. For the Idea, as the -self-determining, is the unity of these differences, and thus the -determinate Idea. The universal is hence determined as that which -resolves and has resolved the contradictions in itself, and hence it -is the concrete in itself; thus this sublation of contradiction is the -affirmative. Dialectic in this higher sense is the really Platonic; -as speculative it does not conclude with a negative result, for it -demonstrates the union of opposites which have annulled themselves. -Here begins what is difficult for the understanding to grasp. The -form of Plato’s methods being not yet, however, developed purely on -its own account, this is the reason that his dialectic is still often -merely reasoning, and that it proceeds from individual points of view -and frequently remains without result. On the other hand, Plato’s own -teaching is directed against this merely reasoning dialectic; yet we -see that it gives him trouble properly to show forth the difference. -The speculative dialectic which commences with him, is thus the most -interesting but also the most difficult part of his work; hence -acquaintance is not usually made with it when the Platonic writings are -studied. Tennemann, for example, did not at all comprehend what was -most important in the Platonic philosophy, and only gathered some of -it together in the form of dry ontological determinations—for that was -what he could comprehend. But it shows the greatest lack of intellect -in a historian of Philosophy only to see in a great philosophic form -whether there is anything yielding profit to himself or not. - -What we have thus to deal with in the dialectic of Plato is the -pure thought of reason, from which he very clearly distinguishes -the understanding (διάνοια), (_supra_, p. 47). We may have thoughts -about many things—if indeed, we do have thought at all—but this is -not what Plato means. Plato’s true speculative greatness, and that -through which he forms an epoch in the history of Philosophy, and -hence in the history of the world, lies in the fuller determination -of the Idea; this extension of knowledge is one which some centuries -later constituted the main element in the ferment which took place -in universal history, and in the transformation which the human mind -passed through. This fuller determination may, from what has gone -before, be understood thus: Plato first comprehended the Absolute as -the Being of Parmenides, but as the Universal which, as species, is -also end, _i.e._ which rules, penetrates, and produces the particular -and manifold. Plato, however, had not yet developed this self-producing -activity, and hence often stumbled into an external teleology. As the -union of the preceding principles, Plato further led this Being into -determinateness and into difference, as the latter is contained in -the triad of Pythagorean number-determinations, and expressed the -same in thought. That is, he grasped the Absolute as the unity of -Being and non-being—in Becoming, as Heraclitus says—or of the one and -the many,[30] &c. He further now took into the objective dialectic -of Heraclitus the Eleatic dialectic, which is the external endeavour -of the subject to show forth contradiction, so that in place of an -external changing of things, their inward transition in themselves, -_i.e._ in their Ideas, or, as they are here, in their categories, has -come to pass out of and through themselves. Plato finally set forth the -belief of Socrates, which the latter put forward in regard to the moral -self-reflection of the subject only, as objective, as the Idea, which -is both universal thought and the existent. The previous philosophies -thus do not disappear because refuted by Plato, being absorbed in him. - -In addition to Being and non-being, one and many, the unlimited and -limiting are, for instance, likewise pure thoughts such as these, in -whose absolute contemplation, from an all-embracing point of view, the -Platonic investigation occupies itself. The purely logical and quite -abstruse consideration of such objects certainly contrasts strongly -with our conception of the beautiful, pleasing, and attractive content -of Plato. Such consideration to him signifies all that is best in -Philosophy, and it is that which he everywhere calls the true method -of Philosophy, and the knowledge of the truth; in it he places the -distinction between philosophers and Sophists. The Sophists on their -part look at appearances, and these they obtain in opinion; this, -indeed, implies thought, but not pure thought, or what is in and for -itself. This is one reason why many turn from the study of Plato’s -works unsatisfied. When we commence a Dialogue, we find, in the free -Platonic method of composition, beautiful scenes in nature, a superb -introduction (p. 14) that promises to lead us through flowery fields -into Philosophy—and that the highest Philosophy, the Platonic. We meet -with elevated thoughts, which are responded to more specially by youth, -but these soon disappear. If at first we have allowed ourselves to be -carried away by these bright scenes, they must now be all renounced, -and as we have come to the real dialectic, and truly speculative, we -must keep to the wearisome path, and allow ourselves to be pricked -by the thorns and thistles of metaphysics. For behold, we then come -to what is best and highest, to investigations respecting the one -and many, Being and nothing; this was not what was anticipated, and -men go quietly away, only wondering that Plato should seek knowledge -here. From the most profound dialectic investigation, Plato then again -proceeds to representations and images, to the description of dialogues -amongst intelligent men. Thus in the Phædo, for example, which -Mendelssohn has modernized and transformed into Wolffian metaphysics, -the beginning and end are elevating and beautiful, and the middle deals -with dialectic. Hence in making one’s way through Plato’s Dialogues -very many mental qualities are called into play, and in their study -we consequently ought to keep our minds open and free as regards the -very various points of interest. If we read with interest what is -speculative, we are apt to overlook what is most beautiful; if our -interest lies in the elevation and culture of the mind, we forget the -speculative element and find that it does not appeal to us. With some -it is like the young man in the Bible, who had fulfilled his various -duties, and who asked Christ what good thing he still had to do to -become His follower. But when the Lord commanded him to sell what he -had and give to the poor, the young man went away sorrowful; this was -not what he had anticipated. Just in the same way many mean well as -regards Philosophy; they study Fries, and heaven knows whom else. Their -hearts are full of the true, good and beautiful; they would know and -see what they ought to do, but their breasts swell with goodwill alone. - -While Socrates remained at the good and universal, at implicitly -concrete thoughts, without having developed them or having revealed -them through development, Plato certainly goes on to the Idea as -determined. His defect, however, is that this determinateness and that -universality are still outside one another. We should certainly obtain -the determinate Idea by reducing the dialectic movement to its result, -and that forms an important element in knowledge. Yet when Plato speaks -of justice, beauty, goodness, truth, their origin is not revealed; -they are not shown as being results, but merely as hypotheses accepted -in their immediacy. Consciousness certainly has an innate conviction -that they form the highest end, but this their determination is not -discovered. Since Plato’s dogmatic expositions of Ideas are lost -(_supra_, p. 11), the dialectic of pure thought is only placed before -us by the Dialogues dealing with the subject, and these, just because -they deal with pure thought, are amongst the most difficult, viz.: -the Sophist, the Philebus, and, more especially, the Parmenides. We -here pass over the Dialogues which contain only negative dialectic and -Socratic dialogue, because they treat only of concrete ideas and not -of dialectic in its higher signification; they leave us unsatisfied, -because their ultimate end is only to confuse one’s opinions, or awaken -a sense of the necessity for knowledge. But those three express the -abstract speculative Idea in its pure Notion. The embracing of the -opposites in one, and the expression of this unity, is chiefly lacking -in the Parmenides, which has hence, like some other Dialogues, only -a negative result. But both in the Sophist and the Philebus Plato -expresses the unity also. - -_a._ The fully worked-out and genuine dialectic is, however, contained -in the Parmenides—that most famous masterpiece of Platonic dialectic. -Parmenides and Zeno are there represented as meeting Socrates in -Athens; but the most important part of it is the dialectic which is -put in the mouths of Parmenides and Zeno. At the very beginning the -nature of this dialectic is given in detail as follows: Plato makes -Parmenides praise Socrates thus: “I notice that in conversing with -Aristoteles,” (one of those present; it might quite well have been -the philosopher, but that he was born sixteen years after Socrates’ -death) “you were trying to define in what the nature of the beautiful, -just and good, and all such ideas lay. This your endeavour is noble -and divine. But train and exercise yourself even more in what the -multitude call idle chatter, and look on as useless, as long as you -are young, for otherwise the truth will escape you.—In what, Socrates -asks, does this exercise consist?—I was much pleased because you said -before that we must not be content with contemplating the sensuous -and its illusions, but must consider that which thought alone can -grasp, and that which alone exists.” I have before[31] remarked that -men at all times have believed that the truth could be found through -reflection only, for in reflection thought is found, and that which -we have before us in the guise of ordinary conception and of belief -is transformed into thought. Socrates now replies to Parmenides: “I -believed that I should in that way best discern the like and unlike, -and the other general determinations in things.” Parmenides replies, -“Certainly. But if you begin from a point of view such as that, you -must not only consider what follows from such an hypothesis, but also -what follows from the opposite of that hypothesis. For example, in the -case of the hypothesis ‘the many is,’ you have to consider what will -be the consequences of the relation of the many to itself and to the -one, and likewise what the consequences of the relation of the one to -itself and to the many.” The marvellous fact that meets us in thought -when we take determinations such as these by themselves, is that each -one is turned round into the opposite of itself. “But again we must -consider, if the many is not, as to what will be the result as regards -the one and the many, both to themselves and to one another. The same -consideration must be employed in respect of identity and non-identity, -rest and motion, origination and passing away, and likewise in regard -to Being and non-being. We must ask what is each of these in relation -to itself, and what is their relation in event of the one or the other -being accepted? In exercising yourself fully in this, you will learn to -know real truth.”[32] Plato thus lays great stress on the dialectical -point of view, which is not the point of view of the merely external, -but is a living point of view whose content is formed of pure thoughts -only, whose movement consists in their making themselves the other of -themselves, and thus showing that only their unity is what is truly -justified. - -Plato makes Socrates say, as regards the meaning of the unity of the -one and many, “If anyone proved to me that I am one and many, it would -not surprise me. For since he shows me that I am a many, and points -out in me the right and left side, an upper and lower half, a front -and back, I partake of the manifold; and again I partake of unity -because I am one of us seven. The case is the same with stone, wood, -&c. But if anyone, after determining the simple ideas of similarity -and dissimilarity, multiplicity, and unity, rest and movement, and so -on, were to show that these in their abstract form admit of admixture -and separation, I should be very much surprised.”[33] The dialectic -of Plato is, however, not to be regarded as complete in every regard. -Though his main endeavour is to show that in every determination the -opposite is contained, it can still not be said that this is strictly -carried out in all his dialectic movements, for there are often -external considerations which exercise an influence in his dialectic. -For example, Parmenides says: “Are either of the two parts of the one -which is—I mean the One and Being—ever wanting to one another? Is the -One ever set free from _being_ a part (τοῦ εἶναι μόριον) and Being set -free from the _one_ part (τοῦ ἑνὸς μόριου)? Once more, each part thus -possesses both the one and Being, and the smallest part still always -consists of these two parts.”[34] In other words: “The one is; from -this it follows that the one is not synonymous with ‘is,’ and thus the -one and ‘is’ are distinguished. There hence is in the proposition ‘the -one is’ a distinction; the many is therefore contained in it, and thus -even with the one I express the many.” This dialectic is certainly -correct, but it is not quite pure, because it begins from this union of -two determinations. - -The result of the whole investigation in the Parmenides is summarized -at the close by saying “that whether the one is or is not, it, as -also the many (τἆλλα), in relation to themselves and in relation -to one another—all of them both are and are not, appear and do not -appear.”[35] This result may seem strange. We are far from accepting, -in our ordinary conception of things, quite abstract determinations -such as the one, Being, non-being, appearance, rest, movement, &c., -as Ideas; but these universals are taken by Plato as Ideas, and this -Dialogue thus really contains the pure Platonic doctrine of Ideas. He -shows of the one that when it is as well as when it is not, whether -like itself or not like itself, both in movement and rest, origination -and decay, it both is and is not; or the unity as well as all these -pure Ideas, both are and are not, the one is one as much as it is many. -In the proposition “the one is,” it is also implied that “the one is -not one but many;” and, conversely, “the many is” also indicates that -“the many is not many, but one.” They show themselves dialectically -and are really the identity with their ‘other’; and this is the truth. -An example is given in Becoming: in Becoming Being and non-being -are in inseparable unity, and yet they are also present there as -distinguished; for Becoming only exists because the one passes into the -other. - -In this respect, perhaps, the result arrived at in the Parmenides -may not satisfy us, since it seems to be negative in character, and -not, as the negation of the negation, expressive of true affirmation. -Nevertheless, the Neo-platonists, and more especially Proclus, -regard the result arrived at in the Parmenides as the true theology, -as the true revelation of all the mysteries of the divine essence. -And it cannot be regarded as anything else, however little this may -at first appear, and though Tiedemann (Platon. Argumenta, p. 340) -speaks of these assertions as merely the wild extravagances of the -Neo-platonists. In fact, however, we understand by God the absolute -essence of things, which even in its simple Notion is the unity and -movement of these pure realities, the Ideas of the one and many, -&c. The divine essence is the Idea in general, as it is either for -sensuous consciousness or for thought. In as far as the divine Idea -is the absolute self-reflection, dialectic is nothing more than this -activity of self-reflection in itself; the Neo-Platonists regarded -this connection as metaphysical only, and have recognized in it their -theology, the unfolding of the secrets of the divine essence. But here -there appears the double interpretation already remarked upon (p. -19), which has now to be more clearly expounded. It is that God and -the essential reality of things may be understood in two different -ways. For, on the one hand, when it is said that the essential reality -of things is the unity of opposites, it would seem as though only -the immediate essence of these immediately objective things were -indicated, and as if this doctrine of real essence or ontology were -distinguished from the knowledge of God, or theology. These simple -realities and their relation and movement seem only to express moments -of the objective and not mind, because there is lacking in them one -element—that is to say, reflection into themselves—which we demand -for the existence of the divine essence. For mind, the truly absolute -essence, is not only the simple and immediate, but that which reflects -itself into itself, for which in its opposition the unity of itself -and of that which is opposed is; but these moments and their movement -do not present it as such, for they make their appearance as simple -abstractions. On the other hand, they may also be taken to be pure -Notions, which pertain purely to reflection into itself. In this case -Being is wanting to them, or what we likewise demand for reflection -into itself as essential to the divine essence; and then their movement -is esteemed an empty round of empty abstractions, which belong only to -reflection and have no reality. For the solution of this contradiction -we must know the nature of apprehension and knowledge, in order to -obtain in the Notion everything there present. Thus shall we have the -consciousness that the Notion is in truth neither the immediate only, -although it is the simple, nor merely that which reflects itself into -itself, the thing of consciousness; for it is of spiritual simplicity, -thus really existent—as it is thought turned back on itself, so it is -also Being in itself, _i.e._ objective Being, and consequently all -reality. Plato did not state this knowledge of the nature of the Notion -so expressly, nor did he say that this essential Being of things is the -same as the divine essence. But really it is simply not put into words, -for the fact is undoubtedly present, and the only distinction is one of -speech as between the mode of the ordinary conception and that of the -Notion. On the one hand, this reflection into itself, the spiritual, -the Notion, is present in the speculation of Plato; for the unity of -the one and many, &c., is just this individuality in difference, this -being-turned-back-within-itself in its opposite, this opposite which is -implicit; the essential reality of the world is really this movement -returning into itself of that which is turned back within itself. But, -on the other hand, for this very reason, this being reflected into -self—like the God of ordinary conception—still remains with Plato -something separated; and in his representation of the Becoming of -Nature in the Timæus, God, and the essential reality of things, appear -as distinguished. - -_b._ In the Sophist Plato investigated the pure Notions or Ideas of -movement and rest, self-identity and other-being, Being and non-being. -He here proves, as against Parmenides, that non-being is, and likewise -that the simple self-identical partakes of other-being, and unity -of multiplicity. He says of the Sophists that they never get beyond -non-being, and he also refutes their whole ground-principle, which is -non-being, feeling, and the many. Plato has thus so determined the -true universal, that he makes it the unity of, for example, the one -and many, Being and non-being; but at the same time he has avoided, or -it was his endeavour to avoid, the double meaning which lies in our -talk of the unity of Being and nothing, &c. For in this expression -we emphasize the unity, and then the difference disappears, just as -if we merely abstracted from it. Plato tried, however, to preserve -the difference likewise. The Sophist is a further development of -Being and non-being, both of which are applicable to all things; for -because things are different, the one being the other of the other, -the determination of the negative is present. First of all, however, -Plato expresses in the Sophist a clearer consciousness of Ideas as -abstract universalities, and his conviction that this point of view -could not endure, because it was opposed to the unity of the Idea -with itself. Plato thus first refutes what is sensuous, and then even -the Ideas themselves. The first of these points of view is what is -later on called materialism, which makes the corporeal alone to be -the substantial, admitting nothing to have reality excepting what can -be laid hold of by the hand, such as rocks and oaks. “Let us,” says -Plato, in the second place, “proceed to the other, to the friends -of Ideas.” Their belief is that the substantial is incorporeal, -intellectual, and they separate from it the region of Becoming, of -change, into which the sensuous falls, while the universal is for -itself. These represent Ideas as immovable, and neither active nor -passive. Plato asserts, as against this, that movement, life, soul, -and thought, cannot be denied to true Being (παντελῶς ὄντι), and that -the holy reason (ἄγιον νοῦν) can be nowhere, and in nothing that is -unmoved.[36] Plato thus has a clear consciousness of having got further -than Parmenides when he says:— - - “Keep your mind from this way of inquiry, - For never will you show that non-being is.” - -Plato says that Being in anyone partakes both of Being and non-being; -but what thus participates is different both from Being and non-being -as such.[37] - -This dialectic combats two things in particular; and in the first place -it is antagonistic to the common dialectic in the ordinary sense, -of which we have already spoken. Examples of this false dialectic -to which Plato often comes back, are specially frequent amongst the -Sophists; yet he did not show sufficiently clearly how they are -distinguished from the purely dialectical knowledge which is in the -Notion. For example, Plato expressed his dissent when Protagoras and -others said that no determination is absolutely certain—that bitter is -not objective, for what to one person is bitter, to another is sweet. -Similarly, large and small, more and less, &c., are relative, because -the large will be, in other circumstances, small, and the small will -be great. That is to say, the unity of opposites is present to us -in everything we know, but the common way of looking at things, in -which the rational does not come to consciousness, always holds the -opposites asunder, as though they were simply opposed in a determinate -way. As in each thing we demonstrate unity, so do we also show its -multiplicity, for it has many parts and qualities. In the Parmenides, -Plato, as we saw above (p. 58), objected to this unity of opposites, -because it must thereby be said that something is one in quite another -respect from that in which it is many. We thus do not here bring -these thoughts together, for the conception and the words merely go -backwards and forwards from the one to the other; if this passing to -and fro is performed with consciousness, it is the empty dialectic -which does not really unite the opposites. Of this Plato says, “If -anyone thinks he has made a wonderful discovery in ascertaining that -he can drag thoughts this way and that, from one determination to -another, he may be told that he has done nothing worthy of praise; for -in so doing there is nothing excellent or difficult.” The dialectic -that annuls a determination because it reveals in it some defect, -and then goes on to establish another, is thus wrong. “The point of -difficulty, and what we ought to aim at, is to show that what is the -other is the same, and what is the same, is another, and likewise in -the same regard and from the same point of view to show that the one -has in them come into existence if the other determination is revealed -within them. But to show that somehow the same is another, and the -other also the same, that the great is also small” (_e.g._ Protagoras’s -die), “and the like also unlike, and to delight in thus always proving -opposites, is no true inquiry (ἔλενχος), but simply proves that he who -uses such arguments is a neophyte,” in thought, “who has just begun -to investigate truth. To separate all existences from one another is -the crude attempt of an uncultured and unphilosophical mind. To cause -everything to fall asunder means the perfect annihilation of all -thought, for thought is the union of ideas.”[38] Thus Plato expressly -speaks against the dialectic of showing how anything may be refuted -from some point of view or another. We see that Plato, in respect of -content, expresses nothing excepting what is called indifference in -difference, the difference of absolute opposites and their unity. To -this speculative knowledge he opposes the ordinary way of thinking, -which is positive as well as negative; the former, not bringing the -thoughts together, allows first one and then the other to have value in -their separation; the latter is, indeed, conscious of a unity, though -it is of a superficial, differentiating unity in which the two moments -are separate, as standing in different aspects. - -The second point against which Plato argues is the dialectic of the -Eleatics, and their assertion, which in its nature resembles that of -the Sophists, that only Being is, and non-being is not. To the Sophists -this means, as Plato puts it: Since the negative is not, but only Being -is, there is nothing false; everything existent, everything which is -for us, is thus necessarily true, and what is not, we do not know -or feel. Plato reproaches the Sophists for thus doing away with the -difference between true and false.[39] Having arrived at this stage -in the knowledge of the dialectic (and the whole matter is merely a -difference of stages) the Sophists could allow what they promise—that -everything that the individual, according to his belief, makes his end -and interest, is affirmative and right. Hence it cannot be said that -such and such an act is wrong, wicked, a crime; for this would be to -say that the maxim of the action is wrong. No more can it be said that -such and such opinion is deceptive, for in the opinion of the Sophists -the proposition implies that what I feel or represent to myself, in as -far as it is mine, is an affirmative content, and thus true and right. -The proposition in itself seems quite abstract and innocent, but we -first notice what is involved in such abstractions when we see them -in concrete form. According to this innocent proposition there would -be no wickedness and no crime. The Platonic dialectic is essentially -different from this kind of dialectic. - -What is further present to the mind of Plato is that the Idea, the -absolute universal, good, true, and beautiful, is to be taken for -itself. The myth, which I have already quoted (p. 27 _et seq._), indeed -goes to prove that we must not consider a good action, a noble man—not -the subject of which these determinations are predicated. For that -which appears in such conceptions or perceptions as predicate, must be -taken for itself, and this is the absolute truth. This tallies with -the nature of the dialectic which has been described. An action, taken -in accordance with the empirical conception, may be called right; in -another aspect, quite opposite determinations may be shown to be in it. -But the good and true must be taken on their own account without such -individualities, without this empirical and concrete character; and -the good and true thus taken alone, constitute that which is. The soul -which, according to the divine drama, is found in matter, rejoices in -a beautiful and just object; but the only actual truth is in absolute -virtue, justice, and beauty. It is thus the universal for itself which -is further determined in the Platonic dialectic; of this several forms -appear, but these forms are themselves still very general and abstract. -Plato’s highest form is the identity of Being and non-being. The true -is that which is, but this Being is not without negation. Plato’s -object is thus to show that non-being is an essential determination in -Being, and that the simple, self-identical, partakes of other-being. -This unity of Being and non-being is also found in the Sophists; but -this alone is not the end of the matter. For in further investigation -Plato comes to the conclusion that non-being, further determined, is -the essence of the ‘other’: “Ideas mingle, and Being and the other -(θάτερον) go through everything and through one another; the other, -because it participates (μετασχόν) in Being, certainly _is_ through -this indwelling Being, but it is not identical with that of which it -partakes, being something different, and being other than Being, it is -clearly non-being. But since Being likewise partakes of other-being, -it also is different from other Ideas, and is not any one of them; so -that there are thousands of ways in which it is not, and as regards -all else, whether looked at individually or collectively, it in many -respects is, and in many respects is not.”[40] Plato thus maintains -that the other, as the negative, non-identical, is likewise in one and -the same respect the self-identical; there are not different sides -which are in mutual opposition. - -These are the principal points in Plato’s peculiar dialectic. The -fact that the Idea of the divine, eternal, beautiful, is absolute -existence, is the beginning of the elevation of consciousness into the -spiritual, and into the consciousness that the universal is true. It -may be enough for the ordinary idea to be animated and satisfied by the -conception of the beautiful and good, but thinking knowledge demands -the determination of this eternal and divine. And this determination -is really only free determination which certainly does not prevent -universality—a limitation (for every determination is limitation) which -likewise leaves the universal in its infinitude free and independent. -Freedom exists only in a return into itself; the undistinguished is the -lifeless; the active, living, concrete universal is hence what inwardly -distinguishes itself, but yet remains free in so doing. Now this -determinateness consists in the one being identical with itself in the -other, in the many, in what is distinguished. This constitutes the only -truth, and the only interest for knowledge in what is called Platonic -philosophy, and if this is not known, the main point of it is not -known. While in the example already often quoted (pp. 58, 64),[41] in -which Socrates is both one and many, the two thoughts are made to fall -asunder, it is left to speculative thought alone to bring the thoughts -together, and this union of what is different, of Being and non-being, -of one and many, &c., which takes place without a mere transition from -one to another, constitutes the inmost reality and true greatness of -Platonic philosophy. This determination is the esoteric element in -Platonic philosophy, and the other is the exoteric; the distinction is -doubtless an unwarranted one, indicating, as it seems to do, that Plato -could have two such philosophies—one for the world, for the people, and -the other, the inward, reserved for the initiated. But the esoteric -is the speculative, which, even though written and printed, is yet, -without being any secret, hidden from those who have not sufficient -interest in it to exert themselves. To this esoteric portion pertain -the two dialogues hitherto considered, along with which the Philebus -may in the third place be taken. - -_c._ In the Philebus Plato investigates the nature of pleasure; -and the opposition of the infinite and finite, or of the unlimited -(ἄπειρον) and limiting (πέρας), is there more especially dealt with. In -keeping this before us, it would scarcely occur to us that through the -metaphysical knowledge of the nature of the infinite and undetermined, -what concerns enjoyment is likewise determined; but these pure thoughts -are the substantial through which everything, however concrete or -seemingly remote, is decided. When Plato treats of pleasure and wisdom -as contrasted, it is the opposition of finite and infinite. By pleasure -we certainly represent to ourselves the immediately individual, the -sensuous; but pleasure is the indeterminate in respect that it is the -merely elementary, like fire and water, and not the self-determining. -Only the Idea is the self-determinate, or self-identity. To our -reflection the infinite appears to be what is best and highest, -limitation being inferior to it; and ancient philosophers so -determined it. By Plato, however, it is, on the other hand, shown -that the limited is the true, as the self-determining, while the -unlimited is still abstract; it certainly can be determined in many -different ways, but when thus determined it is only the individual. The -infinite is the formless; free form as activity is the finite, which -finds in the infinite the material for self-realization. Plato thus -characterizes enjoyment dependent on the senses as the unlimited which -does not determine itself; reason alone is the active determination. -But the infinite is what in itself passes over to the finite; thus -the perfect good, according to Plato, is neither to be sought for in -happiness or reason, but in a life of both combined. But wisdom, as -limit, is the true cause from which what is excellent arises.[42] As -that which posits measure and end, it is what absolutely determines the -end—the immanent determination with which and in which freedom likewise -brings itself into existence. - -Plato further considers the fact that the true is the identity of -opposites, thus. The infinite, as the indeterminate, is capable of -a more or less, it may be more intensive or not; thus colder and -warmer, drier and moister, quicker and slower, &c., are all such. -What is limited is the equal, the double, and every other measure; by -this means the opposite ceases to be unlike and becomes uniform and -harmonious. Through the unity of these opposites, such as cold and -warm, dry and moist, health arises; similarly the harmony of music -takes its origin from the limitation of high tones and deep, of quicker -and slower movement, and, generally speaking, everything beautiful -and perfect arises through the union of opposites. Health, happiness, -beauty, &c., would thus appear to be begotten, in as far as the -opposites are allied thereto, but they are likewise an intermingling -of the same. The ancients make copious use of intermingling, -participation, &c., instead of individuality; but for us these are -indefinite and inadequate expressions. But Plato says that the third, -which is thus begotten, pre-supposes the cause or that from which it is -formed; this is more excellent than those through whose instrumentality -that third arose. Hence Plato has four determinations; first the -unlimited, the undetermined; secondly the limited, measure, proportion, -to which pertains wisdom; the third is what is mingled from both, what -has only arisen; the fourth is cause. This is in itself nothing else -than the unity of differences, subjectivity, power and supremacy over -opposites, that which is able to sustain the opposites in itself; -but it is only the spiritual which has this power and which sustains -opposition, the highest contradiction in itself. Weak corporeality -passes away as soon as ‘another’ comes into it. The cause he speaks -of is divine reason, which governs the world; the beauty of the world -which is present in air, fire, water, and in all that lives, is -produced thereby.[43] Thus the absolute is what in one unity is finite -and infinite. - -When Plato speaks thus of the beautiful and good, these are concrete -ideas, or rather there is only one idea. But we are still far -from these concrete ideas when we begin with such abstractions as -Being, non-being, unity, and multiplicity. If Plato, however, has -not succeeded in bringing these abstract thoughts through further -development and concretion, to beauty, truth, and morality, there at -least lies in the knowledge of those abstract determinations, the -criterion by which the concrete is determined, as also its sources. -This transition to the concrete is made in the Philebus, since the -principle of feeling and of pleasure is there considered. The ancient -philosophers knew very well what they had of concrete in those -abstract thoughts. In the atomic principle of multiplicity we thus -find the source of a construction of the state, for the ultimate -thought-determination of such state-principles is the logical. The -ancients in their pure Philosophy had not the same end in view as -we—they had not the end of a metaphysical sequence placed before them -like a problem. We, on the other hand, have something concrete before -us, and desire to reduce it to settled order. With Plato Philosophy -offers the path which the individual must follow in order to attain -to any knowledge, but, generally speaking, Plato places absolute and -explicit happiness, the blessed life itself, in the contemplation -during life of the divine objects named above.[44] This contemplative -life seems aimless, for the reason that all its interests have -disappeared. But to live in freedom in the kingdom of thought had -become the absolute end to the ancients, and they knew that freedom -existed only in thought. - - -2. PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE. - -With Plato Philosophy likewise commenced to devote more attention -to the understanding of what is further determined, and in this way -the matter of knowledge began to fall into divisions. In the Timæus -the Idea thus makes its appearance as expressed in its concrete -determinateness, and the Platonic Philosophy of Nature hence teaches -us to have a better knowledge of the reality of the world; we cannot, -however, enter into details, and if we did, they have little interest. -It is more especially where Plato treats of physiology that his -statements in no way correspond with what we now know, although we -cannot fail to wonder at the brilliant glimpses of the truth there -found, which have been only too much misconceived by the moderns. -Plato derived a great deal from the Pythagoreans; how much is theirs, -however, cannot be satisfactorily determined. We remarked before (p. -14) that the Timæus is really the fuller version of a Pythagorean -treatise; other would-be wise persons have indeed said that the -treatise is only an abstract made by a Pythagorean of the larger -work of Plato, but the first theory is the more probable. The Timæus -has in all times been esteemed the most difficult and obscure of the -Platonic dialogues. This difficulty is due in part to the apparent -mingling of conceiving knowledge and ordinary perception already -mentioned (p. 20), just as we shall presently find an intermingling -of Pythagorean numbers; and it is due still more to the philosophic -nature of the matter in hand, of which Plato was as yet unconscious. -The second difficulty lies in the arrangement of the whole, for what -at once strikes one is that Plato repeatedly breaks off the thread of -his argument, often appearing to turn back and begin again from the -beginning.[45] This moved critics such as August Wolff and others, who -could not understand it philosophically, to take the Timæus to be an -accumulation of fragments put together, or else to be several works -which had only been loosely strung together into one, or into the -Platonic portion of which much that is foreign had been introduced. -Wolff accordingly thought it was evident from this that the dialogue, -like Homer’s poems, had been, in its first form, spoken and not -written. But although the connection seems unmethodical, and Plato -himself makes what maybe called copious excuses for the confusion, we -shall find how the whole matter really falls into natural divisions, -and we shall also find the deep inward reason which makes necessary the -frequent return to what apparently is the beginning. - -An exposition of the reality of nature or of the becoming of the world -is introduced by Plato in the following way: “God is the Good,” this -stands also at the head of the Platonic Ideas in the verbally delivered -discourses (_supra_, p. 11); “goodness, however, has no jealousy of -anything, and being free from jealousy, God desired to make all things -like Himself.”[46] God here is still without determination, and a -name which has no meaning for thought; nevertheless, where Plato in -the Timæus again begins from the beginning, he is found to have a -more definite idea of God. That God is devoid of envy undoubtedly is -a great, beautiful, true, and childlike thought. With the ancients, -on the contrary, we find in Nemesis, Dike, Fate, Jealousy, the one -determination of the gods: moved by this they cast down the great and -bring it low, and suffer not what is excellent and elevated to exist. -The later high-minded philosophers controverted this doctrine. For in -the mere idea of the Nemesis no moral determination is as yet implied, -because punishment there is only the humiliation of what oversteps -limits, but these limits are not yet presented as moral, and punishment -is thus not yet a recognition of the moral as distinguished from the -immoral. Plato’s thought is thus much higher than that of most of our -moderns, who, in saying that God is a hidden God who has not revealed -Himself to us and of whom we can know nothing, ascribe jealousy to -God. For why should He not reveal Himself to us if we earnestly seek -the knowledge of Him? A light loses nothing by another’s being kindled -therefrom, and hence there was in Athens a punishment imposed on those -who did not permit this to be done. If the knowledge of God were kept -from us in order that we should know only the finite and not attain -to the infinite, God would be a jealous God, or God would then become -an empty name. Such talk means no more than that we wish to neglect -what is higher and divine, and seek after our own petty interests and -opinions. This humility is sin—the sin against the Holy Ghost. - -Plato continues: “God found the visible” (παραλαβών)—a mythical -expression proceeding from the necessity of beginning with an -immediate, which, however, as it presents itself, cannot in any way -be allowed—“not at rest, but moving in an irregular and disorderly -manner; and out of disorder he brought order, considering that this -was far better than the other.” From this it appears as if Plato had -considered that God was only the δημιοῦργος, _i.e._ the disposer of -matter, and that this, being eternal and independent, was found by -Him as chaos; but in view of what has been said, this is false. These -are not the philosophic doctrines which Plato seriously held, for he -speaks here only after the manner of the ordinary conception, and -such expressions have hence no philosophic content. It is only the -introduction of the subject, bringing us, as it does, to determinations -such as matter. Plato then comes in course of his progress to further -determinations, and in these we first have the Notion; we must hold to -what is speculative in Plato, and not to the first-mentioned ordinary -conception. Likewise, when he says that God esteemed order to be the -best, the mode of expression is naïve. Nowadays we should ask that -God should first be proved; and just as little should we allow the -visible to be established without much further ado. What is proved -by Plato from this more naïve method of expression is, in the first -place, the true determination of the Idea, which only appears later -on. It is further said: “God reflecting that of what is visible, the -unintelligent (ἀνόητον) could not be fairer than the intelligent -(νοῦς), and that intelligence could not exist in anything devoid of -soul, for these reasons put intelligence in the soul, and the soul -in the body, and so united them that the world became a living and -intelligent system, an animal.” We have reality and intelligence, -and the soul as the bond connecting the two extremes, without which -intelligence could not have part in the visible body; we saw the true -reality comprehended by Plato in a similar way in the Phædrus (_supra_, -p. 39). “There is, however, only one such animal, for were there two or -more, these would be only parts of the one, and only one.”[47] - -Plato now first proceeds to the determination of the Idea of corporeal -existence: “Because the world was to become corporeal, visible and -tangible, and since without fire nothing can be seen, and without -solidity, without earth, nothing can be touched, God in the beginning -made fire and earth.” In this childlike way Plato introduces these -extremes, solidity and life. “But two things cannot be united without -a third, there must be a bond between them, uniting both”—one of -Plato’s simple methods of expression. “The fairest bond, however, is -that which most completely fuses itself and that which is bound by -it.” That is a profound saying, in which the Notion is contained; the -bond is the subjective and individual, the power which dominates the -other, which makes itself identical with it. “Proportion” (ἀναλογία) -is best adapted to effect such a fusion; that is, whenever of three -numbers or magnitudes or powers, that which is the mean is to the -last term what the first term is to the mean, and again when the mean -is to the first term as the last term is to the mean (a : b = b : c) -“then the mean having become the first and last, and the first and -last both having become means, all things will necessarily come to be -the same; but having come to be the same, everything will be one.”[48] -This is excellent, we have still preserved this in our Philosophy; -it is the distinction which is no distinction. This diremption from -which Plato proceeds, is the conclusion which we know from logic; it -appears in the form of the ordinary syllogism, in which, however, the -whole rationality of the Idea is, at least externally, contained. The -distinctions are the extremes, and the mean is the identity which in a -supreme degree makes them one; the conclusion is thus speculative, and -in the extremes unites itself with itself, because all the terms pass -through all the different positions. It is hence a mistake to disparage -the conclusion and not to recognize it as the highest and absolute -form; in respect of the conclusions arrived at by the understanding, -on the contrary, we should be right in rejecting it. This last has no -such mean; each of the differences is there recognized as different in -its own independent form, as having a character different from that -of the other. This, in the Platonic philosophy, is abrogated, and -the speculative element in it constitutes the proper and true form -of conclusion, in which the extremes neither remain in independence -as regards themselves, nor as regards the mean. In the conclusion of -the understanding, on the contrary, the unity which is constituted is -only the unity of essentially different contents which remain such; -for here a subject, a determination, is, through the mean, simply -bound up with another, or “some conception is joined to some other -conception.” In a rational conclusion, however, the main point of its -speculative content is the identity of the extremes which are joined -to one another; in this it is involved that the subject presented in -the mean is a content which does not join itself with another, but only -through the other and in the other with itself. In other words, this -constitutes the essential nature of God, who, when made subject, is -the fact that He begot His Son, the world; but in this reality which -appears as another, He still remains identical with Himself, does away -with the separation implied in the Fall, and, in the other, merely -unites Himself to Himself and thus becomes Spirit. When the immediate -is elevated over the mediate and it is then said that God’s actions are -immediate, there is, indeed, good ground for the assertion; but the -concrete fact is that God is a conclusion which, by differentiating -itself, unites itself to itself, and, through the abrogation of the -mediation, reinstates its own immediacy. In the Platonic philosophy we -thus have what is best and highest; the thoughts are, indeed, merely -pure thoughts, but they contain everything in themselves; for all -concrete forms depend on thought-determinations alone. The Fathers thus -found in Plato the Trinity which they wished to comprehend and prove -in thought: with Plato the truth really has the same determination -as the Trinity. But these forms have been neglected for two thousand -years since Plato’s time, for they have not passed into the Christian -religion as thoughts; indeed they were considered to be ideas which had -entered in through error, until quite recent times, when men began to -understand that the Notion is contained in these determinations, and -that nature and spirit can thus be comprehended through their means. - -Plato continues: “Since what is solid requires two means, because it -not only has breadth but also depth, God has placed air and water -between fire and earth; and indeed He gave to them the same proportion, -so that fire is related to air as air to water, and as air is to -water, so is water to earth.”[49] Thus we have, properly speaking, -four methods of representing space, inasmuch as the point is, through -line and surface, closely bound up with the solid body. The sundered -mean here discovered, again indicates an important thought of logical -profundity; and the number four which here appears, is in nature -a fundamental number. For as being the different which is turned -towards the two extremes, the mean must be separated in itself. In -the conclusion in which God is the One, the second (the mediating), -the Son; the third, the Spirit; the mean indeed is simple. But the -cause why that which in the rational conclusion is merely three-fold, -passes in nature to the four-fold, rests in what is natural, because -what in thought is immediately the one, becomes separate in Nature. -But in order that in Nature the opposition should exist as opposition, -it must itself be a twofold, and thus, when we count, we have four. -This also takes place in the conception of God, for when we apply -it to the world, we have nature as mean and the existent spirit as -the way of return for nature: when the return is made, this is the -absolute Spirit. This living process, this separation and unifying of -differences, is the living God. - -Plato says further: “Through this unity the visible and tangible world -has been made. And it comes to pass by God’s having given to it these -elements entire and unseparated, that it is perfect, and unaffected by -age and disease. For old age and disease only arise from a body’s being -worked upon by a superabundance of such elements from without. But -here this is not so, for the world contains those elements entirely in -itself, and nothing can come to it from without. The world is spherical -in form,” (as it was to Parmenides and the Pythagoreans) “as being -most perfect, and as containing all others in itself; it is perfectly -smooth, since for it there is nothing outside, and it requires no -limbs.” Finitude consists in this, that a distinction as regards -something else is an externality to some other object. In the Idea we -certainly have determination, limitation, difference, other-being, but -it is at the same time dissolved, contained, gathered together, in the -one. Thus it is a difference through which no finitude arises, seeing -that it likewise is sublated. Finitude is thus in the infinite itself, -and this is, indeed, a great thought. “God gave the world the most -appropriate motion of all the seven, being that which harmonizes best -with mind and consciousness, motion in a circle; the other six He took -away from it and liberated it from their variations”[50] (movements -backwards and forwards). This is only a popular way of putting it. - -We read further: “Since God wished to make the world a God, He gave it -soul, and this was placed in the centre and diffused through the whole, -which was also surrounded by it externally; and in this way He brought -to pass the self-sufficing existence which required no other, and which -needed no other friendship or acquaintance than itself. Through these -means God created the world as a blessed God.” We may say that here, -where the world is a totality through the world-soul, we first have the -knowledge of the Idea; for the first time this newly-begotten God, -as the mean and identity, is the true absolute. That first God which -was only goodness, is, on the contrary, a mere hypothesis, and hence -neither determined nor self-determining. “Now though we have spoken of -the soul last,” Plato goes on, “it does not for that reason come last; -for this is merely our manner of speech. The soul is the ruler, the -king, and the body is its subject.” It is only Plato’s naïvety which -ascribes the reversal of the order of the two to a manner of speech. -What here appears as contingent is really necessary—that is, to begin -with the immediate and then come to the concrete. We must likewise -adopt this method, but with the consciousness that when we begin with -determinations such as Being, or God, Space, Time, &c., we speak of -them in an immediate manner, and this content, in accordance with its -nature, is at first immediate, and consequently undetermined in itself. -God, for example, with whom we begin as an immediate, is proved only at -the last, and then, indeed, as the true first. Thus we can, as already -remarked, (p. 72) show Plato’s confusion of mind in such presentations; -but it depends entirely on what Plato’s standard of truth is. - -Plato further shows us the nature of the Idea in one of the most -famous and profound of passages, where in the essence of the soul he -recognizes again the very same idea that he also expressed as the -essence of the corporeal. For he says: “The soul is created in the -following way: Of the indivisible and unchangeable and also of the -divisible which is corporeal, God made a third kind of intermediate -essence, which partook of the nature of the same and of the nature of -the other or diverse.” (The divisible is to Plato likewise the other -as such, or in itself, and not of anything else.) “And God in like -manner made the soul a sort of intermediate between the indivisible -and the divisible.” Here the abstract determinations of the one which -is identity, of the many or non-identical, which is opposition and -difference, once more appear. If we say: “God, the Absolute, is the -identity of the identical and non-identical,” a cry is raised of -barbarism and scholasticism. Those who speak of it so still hold Plato -in high esteem, and yet it was thus that he determined the truth. “And -taking these three elements as separate, God mingled them all into one -Idea, because he forcibly compressed the incongruous nature of the -other into the same.”[51] This is undoubtedly the power of the Notion, -which posits the many, the separate, as the ideal, and that is also the -force applied to the understanding when anything is placed before it. - -Plato now describes how the self-identical, as itself a moment, and -the other or matter, and the third, the apparently dissoluble union -which has not returned into the first unity—which three were originally -separated—have now, in simple reflection into self and resumption of -that beginning, been degraded into moments. “Mingling the identical -and the other with the essence (οὐσία),” the third moment, “and making -them all one, God again divided this whole into as many parts was -as fitting.”[52] Since this substance of the soul is identical with -that of the visible world, the one whole is for the first time the -now systematized substance, the true matter, the absolute element -which is internally divided, an enduring and unseparable unity of the -one and many; and no other essence must be demanded. The manner and -mode of the division of this subjectivity contain the famous Platonic -numbers, which doubtless originally pertain to the Pythagoreans, and -respecting which both ancients and moderns, and even Kepler himself -in his _Harmonia mundi_, have taken much pains, but which no one has -properly understood. To understand would mean two things, and in -the first place, the recognition of their speculative significance, -their Notion. But, as already remarked of the Pythagoreans (Vol. -I. p. 224), these distinctions of number give only an indefinite -conception of difference, and that only in the earlier numbers; where -the relationships become more complicated, they are quite incapable of -designating them more closely. In the second place, because of their -being numbers, they express, as differences of magnitude, differences -in what is sensuous only. The system of apparent magnitude—and it is -in the heavenly system that magnitude appears most purely and freely, -liberated from what is qualitative—must correspond to them. But -these living number-spheres are themselves systems composed of many -elements—both of the magnitude of distance and of velocity and mass. No -one of these elements, taken as a succession of simple numbers, can be -likened to the system of heavenly spheres, for the series corresponding -to this system can, as to its members, contain nothing else than the -system of all these moments. Now if the Platonic numbers were also -the elements of each system such as this, it would not be only this -element which would have to be taken into account, for the relationship -of moments which become distinguished in movement has to be conceived -of as a whole, and is the true object of interest and reason. What we -have to do is to give briefly the main points as matter of history; -we have the most thorough treatment of it given us by Böckh “On the -Constitution of the World-Soul in the Timæus of Plato,” in the third -volume of the Studies of Daub and Creuzer (p. 26 _et seq._). - -The fundamental series is very simple: “God first took one part out -of the whole; then the second, the double of the first; the third is -one and a half times as many as the second, or three times the first; -the next is double the second; the fifth is three times the third; -the sixth is eight times the first; the seventh is twenty-seven times -greater than the first.” Hence the series is: 1; 2; 3; 4 = 2²; 9 = 3²; -8 = 2³; 27 = 3³. “Then God filled up the double and triple intervals” -(the relations 1 : 2 and 1 : 3) “by again abstracting portions from -the whole. These parts he placed in the intervals in such a way that -in each interval there were two means, the one exceeding and exceeded -by the extremes in the same ratio, the other being that kind of mean -which by an equal number exceeds and is exceeded by the extremes.” That -is, the first is a constant geometric relationship, and the other is -an arithmetical. The first mean, brought about through the quadration, -is thus in the relation 1 : 2, for example, the proportion 1 : √̅2 -: 2; the other is in the same relation, the number 1½. Hereby new -relations arise which are again in a specially given and more difficult -method inserted into that first, but this is done in such a way that -everywhere something has been left out, and the last relation of number -to number is 256 : 243, or 2^8 : 3^5. - -Much progress is not, however, made with these number-relations, for -they do not present much to the speculative Notion. The relationships -and laws of nature cannot be expressed by these barren numbers; they -form an empirical relation which does not constitute the basis of -the proportions of nature. Plato now says: “God divided this entire -series lengthways into two parts which he set together crosswise like -an X, and he bent their ends into a circular form and comprehended -them in a uniform motion—forming an inner circle and an outer—and he -called the motion of the outer circle the motion of the same, and -that of the inner the motion of the diverse, giving supremacy to the -former, and leaving it intact. But the inner motion he again split -into seven orbits after the same relations; three of these he made to -move with equal velocity, and four with unequal velocity to the three -and to one another. This is the system of the soul within which all -that is corporeal is formed; the soul is the centre, it penetrates -the whole and envelopes it from without and moves in itself. Thus -it has the divine beginning of a never-ceasing and rational life in -itself.”[53] This is not quite devoid of confusion, and from it we -can only grasp the general fact that as to Plato with the idea of the -corporeal universe that of the soul enters in as the all-embracing -and simple, to him the essence of the corporeal and of the soul is -unity in difference. This double essence, posited in and for itself -in difference, becomes systematized within the one in many moments, -which are, however, movements; thus this reality and that essence both -pertain to this whole in the antithesis of soul and body, and this -again is one. Mind is what penetrates all, and to it the corporeal is -opposed as truly as that it itself is mind. - -This is a general description of the soul which is posited in the -world and reigns over it; and in as far as the substantial, which is -in matter, is similar to it, their inherent identity is asserted. The -fact that in it the same moments which constitute its reality are -contained, merely signifies that God, as absolute Substance, does not -see anything other than Himself. Plato hence describes the relation -of soul to objective reality thus: it, if it touches any of the -moments, whether dispersed in parts or indivisible, is stirred in all -its powers to declare the sameness and the difference of that or some -other thing, and how, where, and when, the individual is related to -the other and to the universal. “Now when the orbit of the sensuous, -moving in its due course, imparts knowledge of itself to its whole -soul” (where the different orbits of the world’s course show themselves -to correspond with the inwardness of mind) “true opinions and beliefs -arise. But when the soul applies itself to the rational and the orbit -of the self-identical makes itself known, thought is perfected into -knowledge.”[54] This is the essential reality of the world as of the -inherently blessed God; here the Idea of the whole is for the first -time perfected, and, in accordance with this Idea, the world first -makes its appearance. What had hitherto appeared was the reality of the -sensuous only and not the world as sensuous, for though Plato certainly -spoke before of fire, &c. (p. 75), he there gave only the reality of -the sensuous; he would hence have done better to have omitted these -expressions. In them we have the reason for its appearing as if Plato -had here begun to consider from the beginning that of which he has -already treated (_supra_, p. 72). For since we must begin from the -abstract in order to reach the true and the concrete, which first -appears later on (_supra_, p. 79), this last, when it has been found, -has the appearance and form of a new commencement, particularly in -Plato’s loose style. - -Plato now goes on further, for he calls this divine world the pattern -which is in thought (νοητόν) alone, and always in self-identity; but -he again places this whole in opposition to itself, so that there is -a second, the copy of the first, the world, which has origination -and is visible. This second is the system of the heavenly movement, -the first is the eternally living. The second, which has origination -and becoming within it, cannot be made perfectly like the first, the -eternal Idea. But it is made a self-moving image of the eternal that -remains in the unity; and this eternal image that moves rhythmically, -after the manner of numbers, is what we call time. Plato says of it -that we are in the habit of calling the ‘was’ and ‘will be’ parts of -time, and we transfer these indications of change which operate in -time, into absolute essence. But the true time is eternal, or the -present. For the substance can neither become older nor younger, and -time, as the immediate image of the eternal, has neither the future nor -the present in its parts. Time is ideal, like space, not sensuous, but -the immediate mode in which mind comes forth in objective form, the -sensuous non-sensuous. The real moments of the principle of absolute -movement in what is temporal, are those in which changes appear. “From -the mind and will of God in the creation of time, there arose the sun, -moon, and five other stars which are called the planets, and which -serve to distinguish and preserve the relations of time.”[55] For in -them the numbers of time are realized. Thus the heavenly movement, as -the true time, is the image of the eternal which yet remains in unity, -_i.e._ it is that in which the eternal retains the determination of the -‘same.’ For everything is in time, that is, in negative unity which -does not allow anything to root itself freely in itself, and thus to -move and to be moved according to chance. - -But this eternal is also in the determinateness of the other reality, -in the Idea of the self-changing and variable principle whose universal -is matter. The eternal world has a likeness in the world which belongs -to time, but opposed to this there is a second world where change -really dwells. The ‘same’ and the ‘other’ are the most abstract opposes -that we hitherto have had. The eternal world as posited in time has -thus two forms—the form of similarity and the form of differentiality, -of variability. The three moments as they appear in the last sphere, -are, in the first place, simple essence which is begotten, which has -arisen, or determinate matter; secondly the place in which it is -begotten, and thirdly that in which what is begotten has its pattern. -Plato gives them thus: “Essence (ὄν), place, and generation.” We thus -have the conclusion in which space is the mean between individual -generation and the universal. If we now oppose this principle to time -in its negativity, the mean is this principle of the ‘other’ as the -universal principle—“a receiving medium like a mother”—an essence which -contains everything, gives to everything an independent subsistence and -the power to do as is desired. This principle is destitute of form, yet -capable of receiving all forms, the universal principle of all that -appears different; it is the false passive matter that we understand -when we speak of it—the relative substantial, existence generally, but -external existence here, and only abstract Being-for-self. Form is in -our reflection distinguished from it, and this, Plato tells us, first -comes into existence through the mother. In this principle we have -what we call the phenomenal, for matter is just this subsistence of -individual generation, in which division is posited. But what appears -herein is not to be posited as the individual of earthly existence, but -is to be apprehended as the universal in such determinateness. Since -matter, as the universal, is the principle of all that is individual, -Plato in the first place reminds us that we cannot speak of these -sensuous things—fire, water, earth, air, &c. (which thus once more come -before us here); for hereby they are expressed as a fixed determination -which remains as such—but what remains is only their universality, or -they, as universal, are only the fiery, earthly, &c.[56] - -Plato further expounds the determinate reality of these sensuous -things, or their simple determinateness. In this world of change form -is figure in space; for as in the world, which is the immediate image -of the eternal, time is the absolute principle, here the absolute -ideal principle is pure matter as such, _i.e._ the existence of space. -Space is the ideal essence of this phenomenal world, the mean which -unites positivity and negativity, but its determinations are figures. -And, indeed, of the different dimensions of space, it is surface which -must be taken as true reality, for it is the absolute mean between -the line and point in space, and in its first real limitation it -is three; similarly the triangle is first among the figures, while -the circle has no limit as such within it. Here Plato comes to the -deduction of configuration, in which the triangle forms the principle; -thus triangles form the essence of sensuous things. Hence he says, in -Pythagorean fashion, that the compounding and uniting together of -these triangles, as their Idea pertaining to the mean, constitutes -once more, according to the original number-relations, the sensuous -elements. This is the principle, but how Plato determines the figures -of the elements, and the union of the triangles, I refrain from -considering.[57] - -From this point Plato passes to a system of Physics and Physiology into -which we have no intention of following him. It is to be regarded as a -first, childlike endeavour to understand sensuous phenomena in their -manifold character, but as yet it is superficial and confused. Sensuous -manifestations, such as the parts and limbs of the body, are here -taken into consideration, and an account of this is given intermingled -with thoughts which resemble our formal explanations, and in which the -Notion really vanishes. We have to remember the elevated nature of -the Idea, as being the main point of excellence in his explanations, -for, as far as the realization of the same is concerned, Plato merely -felt and expressed it to be a necessity. Speculative thought is often -recognizable, but, for the most part, consideration is directed to -quite external modes of explanation, such as that of end. The method -of treating Physics is a different one from ours, for while with Plato -empirical knowledge is still deficient, in modern Physics, on the other -hand, the deficiency is found in the Idea. Plato, although he does -not seem to conform to our theory of Physics, ignoring as it does the -theory of life, and though he proceeds to talk in a childlike way in -external analogies, yet in certain cases gives utterance to very deep -perceptions, which would be well worthy of our consideration if the -contemplation of nature as living had any place with our physicists. -His manner of relating the physiological to the physical would be as -interesting. Certain portions of his system contain a general element, -such as his representation of colours, and from this he goes on to -more general considerations. For when Plato begins to talk on this -subject, he says of the difficulty of distinguishing and recognizing -the individual, that in the contemplation of nature there are “two -causes to be distinguished, the one necessary and the other divine. The -divine must be sought for in all things with the view of attaining to -a blessed life” (this endeavour is an end in and for itself, and in it -we find happiness) “in as far as our nature admits, but the necessary -causes need be sought only for the sake of divine things, considering -that without these necessary causes” (as conditions of knowledge) “we -cannot know them.” Contemplation in accordance with necessity is the -external contemplation of objects, their connection, relation, &c. -“Of the divine, God Himself was the creator,” the divine belongs to -that first eternal world—not as to one beyond, but to one now present. -“But the creation and disposition of the mortal He committed to His -offspring (γεννήμασι).” This is a simple way of passing from the -divine to the finite and earthly. “Now they, imitating the divine, -because they had received the immortal principle of a soul, fashioned -a mortal body, and placed in this a soul of another nature, which was -mortal. This mortal nature was subject to violent and irresistible -affections—the first of these was pleasure, the greatest incitement to -evil, and then pain which is the deterrent (φυγάς) from doing good; -also rashness (θάῤῥος) and fear, two foolish counsellors; anger, hope, -&c. These sensations all belong to the mortal soul. And that the -divine might not be polluted more than necessary, the subordinate gods -separated this mortal nature from the seat of the divine, and gave it -a different habitation in another part of the body, placing the neck -so as to be the isthmus and boundary between head and breast.” The -sensations, affections, &c., dwell in the breast or in the heart (we -place that which is immortal in the heart); the spiritual is in the -head. But in order to make the former as perfect as might be, “they -placed,” for instance, “as a supporter to the heart which was burnt -with passion, the lung, soft and bloodless, and which had within it -hollows like the pores of a sponge, in order that, receiving the breath -and drink, it might cool the heart and allow of refreshment and an -alleviation of the heat.”[58] - -What Plato says of the liver is specially worthy of notice. “Since the -irrational part of the soul which desires eating and drinking does not -listen to reason, God made the liver so that the soul might be inspired -with terror by the power of thought which originates from reason, and -which descends upon the liver as on a mirror, receiving upon it figures -and giving back images. But if this part of the soul is once more -assuaged, in sleep it participates in visions. For the authors of our -being, remembering the command of their father to make the human race -as good as they could, thus ordered our inferior parts in order that -they also might obtain a measure of truth, and placed the oracle in -them.” Plato thus ascribes divination to the irrational, corporeal part -of man, and although it is often thought that revelation, &c., is by -Plato ascribed to reason, this is a false idea; he says that there is a -reason, but in irrationality. “Herein we have a conclusive proof that -God has given the art of divination to the irrationality of man, for -no man when in his wits, attains prophetic truth and inspiration, but -when he receives the inspiration either his intelligence is enthralled -by sleep or he is demented by some distemper or possession.” Thus Plato -makes divination of a lower grade than conscious knowledge. “And when -he has recovered his senses he has to remember and explain what he has -received, for while he is demented, he cannot judge of it. The ancient -saying is therefore very true, that only a man who has his wits can act -or judge about himself or his own affairs.”[59] Plato is called the -patron saint of mere possession, but, according to this, the assertion -is entirely false. These are the principal points in Plato’s Philosophy -of Nature. - - -3. PHILOSOPHY OF MIND. - -We have already dealt generally from the theoretical side with the -speculative nature of mind as yet unrealized, as well as with the -highly important differences with respect to the kinds of knowledge -(pp. 28-48). It must also be considered that we find in Plato as yet -no developed consciousness of the organization of the theoretic mind, -though certainly sensation, memory, &c., are distinguished by him from -reason; these moments of the mind are, however, neither accurately -discriminated, nor exhibited in their connection, so as to show the -necessary relations between them. The only point of interest for us -then in Plato’s philosophy of mind is his view of man’s moral nature; -and this real, practical side of consciousness is Plato’s greatest -glory, and hence must now be specially dealt with by us. Its form -certainly does not suggest that Plato gave himself much trouble to -discover a supreme moral principle, as it is now called, which, for -the very reason that it is supposed to be all-embracing, has in it a -certain lack of content. Neither did he trouble himself about a natural -right, which is but a trivial abstraction foisted on to the real -practical existence, the right; but it is of man’s moral nature that he -treats in the Republic. Man’s moral nature seems to us to have little -to do with the State; to Plato, however, the reality of mind—that is, -of mind as opposed to nature—appeared in its highest truth as the -organization of a state which, as such, is essentially moral; and he -recognized that the moral nature (free will in its rationality) comes -to its right, to its reality, only in an actual nation. - -We must further remark that in the Republic Plato introduces the -investigation of his subject with the object of showing what justice -(δικαιοσύνη) is. After much discussion has taken place, and several -definitions of justice have been taken into consideration only to -be rejected, Plato at last says in his simple way: “The present -investigation is very like the case of a man who is required to read -small handwriting at a distance; if it were observed that the same -letters were to be seen at a shorter distance and of a larger size, -he would certainly prefer to read first the letters where they were -written larger, and then would be able to read more easily the small -letters also. The same plan should be followed now with justice. -Justice is not only in the individual, but also in the state, and the -state is greater than the individual; justice is therefore imprinted on -states in larger characters, and is more easily recognizable.” (This is -different from what the Stoics say of the wise man.) “It is therefore -preferable to consider justice as it is to be found in the state.”[60] -By making this comparison Plato transforms the question anent justice -into an investigation of the state; it is a very simple and graceful -transition, though it seems arbitrary. It was great force of insight -that really led the ancients to the truth; and what Plato brings -forward as merely simplifying the difficulty, may, in fact, be said -to exist in the nature of the thing. For it is not convenience which -leads him to this position, but the fact that justice can be carried -out only in so far as man is a member of a state, for in the state -alone is justice present in reality and truth. Justice, not as the -understanding, but as mind in its striving to realize itself, is the -existence of freedom here and now, the actuality of the self-conscious, -intelligent existence in and at home with itself and possessing -activity—just as in property, for instance, I place my freedom in -this particular thing. But the principle of the state again is the -objective reality of justice, the reality in which the whole mind is -present and not only the knowledge of myself as this individual. For -as the free and reasonable will determines itself, there are laws of -freedom; but these laws are nothing else than state-laws, for the -Notion of the state implies the existence of a reasoning will. Thus -laws have force in the state, and are there matter of practice and of -custom; but because self-will is also there in its immediacy, they are -not only matter of custom, but must also be a force operating against -arbitrary self-will, and showing itself in the courts of justice and in -governments. Thus Plato, in order to discern the features of justice, -with the instinct of reason fixes his attention on their manner of -representation in the state. - -Justice in itself is ordinarily represented by us in the form of a -natural right, right in a condition of nature; such a condition of -nature is, however, a direct moral impossibility. That which is in -itself is, by those who do not attain to the universal, held to be -something natural, as the necessary moments of the mind are held to -be innate ideas. The natural is rather what should be sublated by the -mind, and the justice of the condition of nature can only emerge as -the absolute injustice of the mind. In contrast with the state, which -is the real spirit, the spirit in its simple and as yet unrealized -Notion is the abstract implicitude; this Notion must of course precede -the construction of its reality; it is this which is conceived of -as a condition of nature. We are accustomed to take our start from -the fiction of a condition of nature, which is truly no condition of -mind, of reasonable will, but of animals among themselves: wherefore -Hobbes has justly remarked that the true state of nature is a war of -every man against his neighbour. This implicitude of the mind is at -the same time the individual man, for in the ordinary conception the -universal separates itself from the particular, as if the particular -were absolutely and in and for itself what it certainly is, and the -Universal did not make it that which it is in truth—as if this were not -its essence, but as if the individual element were the most important. -The fiction of a state of nature starts from the individuality of the -person, his free will, and his relation to other persons according -to this free will. Natural justice has thus been a term applied to -that which is justice in the individual and for the individual; and -the condition of society and of the state has been recognized only -as a medium for the individual person, who is the chief end and -object. Plato, in direct contrast with this, lays as his foundation -the substantial, the universal, and he does this in such a way that -the individual as such has this very universal as his end, and the -subject has his will, activity, life and enjoyment in the state, so -that it may be called his second nature, his habits and his customs. -This moral substance which constitutes the spirit, life and Being of -individuality, and which is its foundation, systematizes itself into a -living, organic whole, and at the same time it differentiates itself -into its members, whose activity signifies the production of the whole. - -This relation of the Notion to its reality certainly did not come into -consciousness with Plato, and thus we do not find in him a philosophic -method of construction, which shows first the absolute Idea, then -the necessity, inherently existent, for its realization, and this -realization itself. The judgment that has been delivered respecting -Plato’s Republic therefore is that Plato has therein given a so-called -ideal for the constitution of a state; this has become proverbial as a -_sobriquet_, in the sense that this conception is a chimera, which may -be mentally conceived of—and in itself, as Plato describes it, it is -doubtless excellent and true—that it is also capable of being carried -out, but only on the condition that men should be of an excellence -such as may possibly be present among the dwellers in the moon, but -that it is not realizable for men like those on the earth. But since -men most be taken as they are, this ideal cannot be realized by reason -of men’s wickedness; and to frame such an ideal is therefore altogether -idle. - -As to this, the first remark to be made is that in the Christian -world in general there passes current an ideal of a perfect man which -certainly cannot be carried out in the great body of a nation. We may, -perhaps, see it realized in monks or Quakers, or other similar pious -folk, but a set of melancholy specimens such as these could never -form a nation, any more than lice or parasitic plants could exist for -themselves, or otherwise than on an organic body. If such men were to -constitute a nation, there would have to be an end of this lamb-like -gentleness, this vanity which occupies itself exclusively with its -own individual self, which pets and pampers itself, and ever has the -image and consciousness of its own excellence before its eyes. For -life in the universal and for the universal demands, not that lame and -cowardly gentleness, but gentleness combined with a like measure of -energy, and which is not occupied with itself and its own sins, but -with the universal and what is to be done for it. They before whose -eyes that false ideal floats of course find men to be always compassed -with weakness and depravity, and never find that ideal realized. For -they raise into importance the veriest trifles, which no reasonable -man would give heed to; and they think such weaknesses and defects -are present even when they overlook them. But we need not esteem this -forbearance to be generosity; for it rather implies a perception on -their part that from what they call weakness and defect proceeds their -own destruction, which comes to pass from their making such defects -of importance. The man who has them is immediately through himself -absolved from them, in so far as he makes nothing of them. The crime -is a crime only when they are real to him, and his destruction is in -holding them to be something real. Such an ideal must therefore not -stand in our way, whatever be the fairness of its form, and this even -when it does not appear exactly as it does to monks and Quakers, but, -for instance, when it is the principle of renouncing sensuous things, -and abandoning energy of action, which principle must bring to nought -much that would otherwise be held of value. It is contradictory to try -to keep intact all our relationships, for in those that otherwise hold -good there always is a side where opposition is encountered. Moreover, -what I have already said regarding the relation between philosophy -and the state (p. 23 _et seq._) shows that the Platonic ideal is not -to be taken in this sense. When an ideal has truth in itself through -the Notion, it is no chimera, just because it is true, for the truth -is no chimera. Such an idea is therefore nothing idle and powerless, -but the real. It is certainly permissible to form wishes, but when -pious wishes are all that a man has in regard to the great and true, -he may be said to be godless. It is just as if we could do nothing, -because everything was so holy and inviolable, or as if we refused to -be anything definite, because all that is definite has its defects. The -true ideal is not what ought to be real, but what is real, and the only -real; if an ideal is held to be too good to exist, there must be some -fault in the ideal itself, for which reality is too good. The Platonic -Republic would thus be a chimera, not because excellence such as it -depicts is lacking to mankind, but because it, this excellence, falls -short of man’s requirements. For what is real, is rational. The point -to know, however, is what exactly is real; in common life all is real, -but there is a difference between the phenomenal world and reality. The -real has also an external existence, which displays arbitrariness and -contingency, like a tree, a house, a plant, which in nature come into -existence. What is on the surface in the moral sphere, men’s action, -involves much that is evil, and might in many ways be better; men will -ever be wicked and depraved, but this is not the Idea. If the reality -of the substance is recognized, the surface where the passions battle -must be penetrated. The temporal and transitory certainly exists, -and may cause us trouble enough, but in spite of that it is no true -reality, any more than the particularity of the subject, his wishes and -inclinations, are so. - -In connection with this observation, the distinction is to be called -to mind which was drawn when we were speaking above (pp. 84, 88) -of Plato’s Philosophy of Nature: the eternal world, as God holy in -Himself, is reality, not a world above us or beyond, but the present -world looked at in its truth, and not as it meets the senses of those -who hear, see, &c. When we thus study the content of the Platonic -Idea, it will become clear that Plato has, in fact, represented Greek -morality according to its substantial mode, for it is the Greek -state-life which constitutes the true content of the Platonic Republic. -Plato is not the man to dabble in abstract theories and principles; his -truth-loving mind has recognized and represented the truth, and this -could not be anything else than the truth of the world he lived in, the -truth of the one spirit which lived in him as well as in Greece. No man -can overleap his time, the spirit of his time is his spirit also; but -the point at issue is, to recognize that spirit by its content. - -On the other hand, a constitution that would be perfect in respect -to one nation, is to be regarded as not, perhaps, suitable for every -nation. Thus, when it is said that a true constitution does not do -for men as they now are, we must no doubt keep in mind that the more -excellent a nation’s constitution is, it renders the nation also so -much the more excellent; but, on the other hand, since the morals -commonly practised form the living constitution, the constitution in -its abstraction is nothing at all in its independence; it must relate -itself to the common morality, and be filled with the living spirit -of the people. It can, therefore, certainly not be said that a true -constitution suits any and every nation; and it is quite the case that -for men as they are—for instance, as they are Iroquois, Russians, -French—not every constitution is adapted. For the nation has its place -in history. But as the individual man is trained in the state, that -is, as individuality is raised into universality, and the child grows -into a man, so is every nation trained; or barbarism, the condition in -which the nation is a child, passes over into a rational condition. -Men do not remain at a standstill, they alter, as likewise do their -constitutions. And the question here is, What is the true constitution -which the nation must advance towards; just as it is a question which -is the true science of mathematics or of anything else, but not -whether children or boys should possess this science, as they must -rather be first so educated that they may be capable of understanding -it. Thus the true constitution stands before the nation of history, -so that it may advance towards it. Every nation in course of time -makes such alterations in its existing constitution as will bring it -nearer to the true constitution. The nation’s mind itself shakes off -its leading-strings, and the constitution expresses the consciousness -of what it is in itself,—the form of truth, of self-knowledge. If a -nation can no longer accept as implicitly true what its constitution -expresses to it as the truth, if its consciousness or Notion and its -actuality are not at one, then the nation’s mind is torn asunder. -Two things may then occur. First, the nation may either by a supreme -internal effort dash into fragments this law which still claims -authority, or it may more quietly and slowly effect changes on the yet -operative law, which is, however, no longer true morality, but which -the mind has already passed beyond. In the second place, a nation’s -intelligence and strength may not suffice for this, and it may hold -to the lower law; or it may happen that another nation has reached -its higher constitution, thereby rising in the scale, and the first -gives up its nationality and becomes subject to the other. Therefore -it is of essential importance to know what the true constitution is; -for what is in opposition to it has no stability, no truth, and passes -away. It has a temporary existence, but cannot hold its ground; it -has been accepted, but cannot secure permanent acceptance; that it -must be cast aside, lies in the very nature of the constitution. This -insight can be reached through Philosophy alone. Revolutions take place -in a state without the slightest violence when the insight becomes -universal; institutions, somehow or other, crumble and disappear, each -man agrees to give up his right. A government must, however, recognize -that the time for this has come; should it, on the contrary, knowing -not the truth, cling to temporary institutions, taking what—though -recognized—is unessential, to be a bulwark guarding it from the -essential (and the essential is what is contained in the Idea), that -government will fall, along with its institutions, before the force of -mind. The breaking up of its government breaks up the nation itself; -a new government arises,—or it may be that the government and the -unessential retain the upper hand. - -Thus the main thought which forms the groundwork of Plato’s Republic is -the same which is to be regarded as the principle of the common Greek -morality, namely, that established morality has in general the relation -of the substantial, and therefore is maintained as divine. This is -without question the fundamental determination. The determination which -stands in contrast to this substantial relation of the individual -to established morality, is the subjective will of the individual, -reflective morality. This exists when individuals, instead of being -moved to action by respect and reverence for the institutions of the -state and of the fatherland, from their own convictions, and after -moral deliberation, come of themselves to a decision, and determine -their actions accordingly. This principle of subjective freedom is -a later growth, it is the principle of our modern days of culture: -it, however, entered also into the Greek world, but as the principle -of the destruction of Greek state-life. It was looked on as a crime, -because the spirit, political constitution, and laws of the Greeks -were not, and could not be calculated to admit of the rise of this -principle within them. Because these two elements were not homogeneous, -traditional and conventional morality in Greece was overthrown. Plato -recognized and caught up the true spirit of his times, and brought it -forward in a more definite way, in that he desired to make this new -principle an impossibility in his Republic. It is thus a substantial -position on which Plato takes his stand, seeing that the substantial -of his time forms his basis, but this standpoint is at the same time -relative only, in so far as it is but a Greek standpoint, and the later -principle is consciously banished. This is the universal of Plato’s -ideal of the state, and it is from this point of view that we must -regard it. Investigations as to whether such a state is possible, and -the best possible, which start from quite modern points of view, can -only lead us astray. In modern states we have freedom of conscience, -according to which every individual may demand the right of following -out his own interests; but this is excluded from the Platonic idea. - -a. I will now indicate more fully the main features, in so far as -they possess philosophic interest. Though Plato represents what the -state is in its truth, yet this state has a limit, which we shall learn -to know, namely, that the individual—in formal justice—is not opposed -to this universality, as in the dead constitution of the ideal states -founded on the theory of legal right. The content is but the whole; -the nature of the individual, no doubt, but as reflecting itself into -the universal, not unbending, or as having absolute validity; so that -practically the state and the individual are the same in essence. -Because Plato thus takes his start from that justice which implies -that the just man exists only as a moral member of the state, in -dealing with his subject in greater detail, in order to show how this -reality of the substantial mind is produced, he in the first place -opens up before us the organism of the moral commonwealth, _i.e._ the -differences which lie in the Notion of moral substance. Through the -development of these moments it becomes living and existing, but these -moments are not independent, for they are held in unity. Plato regards -these moments of the moral organism under three aspects, first, as -they exist in the state as classes; secondly, as virtues, or moments -in morality; thirdly, as moments of the individual subject, in the -empirical actions of the will. Plato does not preach the morality of -reflection, he shows how traditional morality has a living movement in -itself; he demonstrates its functions, its inward organism. For it is -inner systematization, as in organic life, and not solid, dead unity, -like that of metals, which comes to pass by means of the different -functions of the organs which go to make up this living, self-moving -unity. - -α. Without classes, without this division into great masses, the state -has no organism; these great distinctions are the distinction of the -substantial. The opposition which first comes before us in the state -is that of the universal, in the form of state life and business, and -the individual, as life and work for the individual; these two fields -of activity are so distinct that one class is assigned to the one, and -another to the other. Plato further cites three systems of reality -in the moral, the functions (αα) of legislation, counsel, in short, -of diligence and foresight in the general behalf, in the interest -of the whole as such; (ββ) of defence of the commonwealth against -foes from without; (γγ) of care for the individual, the supplying of -wants, agriculture, cattle-rearing, the manufacture of clothing and -utensils, the building of houses, &c. Speaking generally, this is quite -as it should be, and yet it appears to be rather the satisfaction -of external necessities, because such wants are found without being -developed out of the Idea of mind itself. Further, these distinct -functions are allotted to different systems, being assigned to a -certain number of individuals specially set apart for the purpose, -and this brings about the separate classes of the state, as Plato is -altogether opposed to the superficial conception that one and the -same must be everything at one time. He accordingly represents three -classes, (αα) that of the governors, men of learning and wisdom, (ββ) -that of the warriors, (γγ) that of the producers of necessaries, -the husbandmen and handicraftsmen. The first he also speaks of as -guardians (φύλακας), who are really philosophically educated statesmen, -possessing true knowledge; they have the warriors to work on their -behalf (ἐπικούρους τε καὶ βοηθούς), but in such a way that there is no -line of separation between the civil and military classes, both being -united,[61] and the most advanced in years are the guardians.[62] -Although Plato does not deduce this division of the classes, they -follow from the constitution of the Platonic state, and every state is -necessarily a system within itself of these systems. Plato then passes -on to particular determinations, which are in some measure trifling, -and might with advantage have been dispensed with; for instance, -among other things, he goes so far as to settle for the highest rank -their special titles, and he states what should be the duties of the -nurses.[63] - -β. Then Plato points out that the moments which are here realized in -the classes, are moral qualities which are present in individuals, -and form their true essence, the simple ethical Notion divided into -its universal determinations. For he states as the result of this -distinction of the classes that through such an organism all virtues -are present in the commonwealth; he distinguishes four of these,[64] -and they have been named cardinal virtues. - -αα. Wisdom (σοφία) or knowledge appears as the first virtue; such a -state will be wise and good in counsel, not because of the various -kinds of knowledge therein present which have to do with the many -particular ordinary occupations falling to the multitude, such as the -trade of blacksmith, and the tillage of the soil (in short, what we -should call skill in the industrial arts, and in finance). The state is -called wise, by reason of the true knowledge which is realized in the -presiding and governing class, who advise regarding the whole state, -and decide upon the policy that is best, both at home and in relation -to foreign states. This faculty of perception is properly the peculiar -possession of the smallest class.[65] - -ββ. The second virtue is courage (ἀνδρία) which Plato defines as a firm -opinion about what may justly and lawfully be considered an object -of fear, courage which, in its strength of purpose, remains unshaken -either by desires or pleasures. To this virtue corresponds the class of -the warriors.[66] - -γγ. The third virtue is temperance (σωφροσύνη), the mastery over the -desires and passions, which like a harmony pervades the whole; so that, -whether understanding, or strength, or numbers, or wealth, or anything -else be regarded, the weaker and the stronger work together for one and -the same object, and are in agreement one with another. This virtue -therefore is not, like wisdom and courage, confined to one part of -the state, but like a harmony it is shared by governors and governed -alike, and is the virtue of all classes.[67] Notwithstanding that this -temperance is the harmony in which all work towards one end, it is yet -peculiarly the virtue of the third class, to whom it is allotted to -procure the necessaries of life by work, although at the first glance -the one does not appear to have much correspondence with the other. -But this virtue is present precisely when no moment, no determination -or particularity isolates itself; or, more closely viewed in a moral -aspect, it is when no want asserts its reality and thus becomes a -crime. Now work is just this moment of activity concentrating itself on -the particular, which nevertheless goes back into the universal, and -is for it. Therefore, if this virtue is universal, it yet has special -application to the third class, which at first is the only one to be -brought into harmony, as it has not the absolute harmony which the -other classes possess in themselves. - -δδ. Finally, the fourth virtue is justice, which was what Plato began -by considering. This, as right-doing, is to be found in the state -when each individual does only one kind of work for the state, that -work for which by the original constitution of his nature he is best -fitted; so that in this way each man is not a jack-of-all-trades, but -all have their special work, young and old, women and children, bond -and free, handicraftsmen, rulers and subjects. The first remark we make -on this is, that Plato here places justice on a level with the other -moments, and it thus appears as one of the four determinations. But -he now retracts this statement and makes it justice which first gives -to wisdom, courage and temperance the power to exist at all, and when -they have once come into existence, the power to continue. This is the -reason of his also saying that justice will be met with independently, -if only the other virtues spoken of are forthcoming.[68] To express it -more definitely, the Notion of justice is the foundation, the Idea of -the whole, which falls into organic divisions, so that every part is -only, as it were, a moment in the whole, and the whole exists through -it. Thus the classes or qualities spoken of are nothing else than the -moments of this whole. Justice is only the general and all-pervading -quality; but at the same time it implies the independence of every -part, to which the state gives liberty of action. - -In the second place, it is clear from what he says, that Plato did not -understand by justice the rights of property, the meaning which the -term commonly bears in jurisprudence, but rather this, that the mind -in its totality makes for itself a law as evidence of the existence of -its freedom. In a highly abstract sense my personality, my altogether -abstract freedom, is present in property. To explain what comes under -this science of law, Plato considers on the whole superfluous (De -Republica, IV. p. 425 Steph.; p. 176 Bekk.). To be sure we find him -giving laws concerning property, police regulations, &c., “But,” he -says, “to impose laws about such matters on men of noble character does -not repay the trouble.” In truth, how can we expect to find divine laws -in what contains contingencies alone? Even in the Laws he considers -ethics chiefly, though he gives a certain amount of attention to the -rights of property. But as justice, according to Plato, is really -the entire being, which presents itself to the individual in such a -way that each man learns to do the work he is born to do as well as -it can be done, and does it, it is only as determined individuality -that man reaches what is law for him; only thus does he belong to the -universal spirit of the state, coming in it to the universal of himself -as a “this.” While law is a universal with a definite content, and -thus a formal universal only, the content in this case is the whole -determined individuality, not this or that thing which is mine by the -accident of possession; what I properly hold as my own is the perfected -possession and use of my nature. To each particular determination -justice gives its rights, and thus leads it back into the whole; in -this way it is by the particularity of an individual being of necessity -developed and brought into actuality, that each man is in his place -and fulfils his vocation. Justice, therefore, according to its true -conception, is in our eyes freedom in the subjective sense, because -it is the attainment of actuality by the reason, and seeing that this -right on the part of liberty to attain to actuality is universal, -Plato sets up justice as the determination of the whole, indicating -that rational freedom comes into existence through the organism of the -state,—an existence which is then, as necessary, a mode of nature. - -γ. The particular subject, as subject, has in the same way these -qualities in himself; and these moments of the subject correspond with -the three real moments of the state. That there is thus one rhythm, one -type, in the Idea of the state, forms for Plato’s state a great and -grand basis. This third form, in which the above moments are exhibited, -Plato characterizes in the following manner. There manifest themselves -in the subject, first of all sundry wants and desires (ἐπιθυμίαι), -like hunger and thirst, each of which has something definite as its -one and only object. Work for the satisfaction of desires corresponds -to the calling of the third class. But, secondly there is also at -the same time to be found in the individual consciousness something -else which suspends and hinders the gratification of these desires, -and has the mastery over the temptation thus to gratify them; this is -reasonableness (λόγος). To this corresponds the class of rulers, the -wisdom of the state. Besides these two ideas of the soul there is a -third, anger (θυμός), which on one side is allied to the desires, but -of which it is just as true that it resists the desires and takes the -side of reason. “It may happen that a man has done wrong to another, -and suffers hunger and cold at the hands of him whom he considers -entitled to inflict them upon him; in this case, the nobler he is, -the less will his anger be excited. But it may also happen that he -suffers a wrong; if this is the case, he boils and chafes, and takes -the side of what he believes to be justice, and endures hunger and -cold and other hardships, and overcomes them, and will not desist from -the right until he conquers or dies, or is calmed down by reason, as -a shepherd quiets his dog.” Anger corresponds with the class of the -brave defenders in the state; as these grasp their weapons in behalf -of reason within the state, so does anger take the part of reason, if -it has not been perverted by an evil up-bringing. Therefore wisdom in -the state is the same as in the individual, and this is true of courage -also. For the rest, temperance is the harmony of the several moments -of what pertains to nature; and justice, as in external matters it -consists in each doing his own duty, so, in the inner life, it consists -in each moment of the mind obtaining its right, and not interfering in -the affairs of the others, but leaving them to do as they will.[69] -We have thus the deduction of three moments, where the middle place -between universality and particularity is filled by anger in its -independence and as directed against the objective: it is the freedom -which turns back within itself and acts negatively. Even here, where -Plato has no consciousness of his abstract ideas, as he has in the -Timæus, this of a truth is inwardly present to him, and everything is -moulded thereby. This is given as the plan according to which Plato -draws up the great whole. To fill up the outlines is a mere detail, -which in itself has no further interest. - -b. In the second place Plato indicates the means of maintaining the -state. As, speaking generally, the whole commonwealth rests on common -morality as the minds of individuals grown into nature, this question -is asked: How does Plato arrange that everyone takes as his own that -form of activity for which he is specially marked out, and that it -presents itself as the moral acting and willing of the individual,—that -everyone, in harmony with temperance, submits to filling this his -post? The main point is to train the individuals thereto. Plato would -produce this ethical quality directly in the individuals, and first -and foremost in the guardians, whose education is therefore the most -important part of the whole, and constitutes the very foundation. For -as it is to the guardians themselves that the care is committed of -producing this ethical quality through maintenance of the laws, in -these laws special attention must be given to the guardians’ education; -after that also to the education of the warriors. The condition of -affairs in the industrial class causes the state but little anxiety, -“for though cobblers should prove poor and worthless, and should be -only in appearance what they ought to be, that is no great misfortune -for the state.”[70] The education of the presidents should, however, -be carried on chiefly by means of philosophic science, which is the -knowledge of the universal and absolute. Plato in this passes over the -particular means of education, religion, art, science. Further on he -speaks again and more in detail on the question of how far music and -gymnastic are to be permitted as means. But the poets Homer and Hesiod -he banishes from his state, because he thinks their representations -of God unworthy.[71] For then began in real earnest an inquiry into -the belief in Jupiter and the stories told by Homer, inasmuch as such -particular representations had been taken as universal maxims and -divine laws. At a certain stage of education childish tales do no harm; -but were they to be made the foundation of the truth of morality, -as present law, the case would be different. The extermination of -the nations which we read of in the writings of the Israelites, the -Old Testament, might for instance be taken as a standard of national -rights, or we might try to make a precedent of the numerous base -acts committed by David, the man of God, or of the horrors which -the priesthood, in the person of Samuel, practised and authorized -against Saul. Then it would be high time to place these records on a -lower level, as something past, something merely historical. Plato -would further have preambles to the laws, wherein citizens would be -admonished as to their duties, and convinced that these exist, &c.[72] -They also should be shown how to choose that which is most excellent, -in short, to choose morality. - -But here we have a circle: the public life of the state subsists by -means of morality, and, conversely, morality subsists by means of -institutions. Morals cannot be independent of institutions, that is, -institutions cannot be brought to bear on morals through educational -establishments or religion only. For institutions must be looked on as -the very first condition of morality, for this is the manner in which -institutions are subjective. Plato himself gives us to understand -how much contradiction he expects to find. And even now his defect -is commonly considered to lie in his being too idealistic, while his -real deficiency consists in his not being ideal enough. For if reason -is the universal force, it is essentially spiritual; thus to the -realm of the spiritual belongs subjective freedom, which had already -been held up as a principle in the philosophy of Socrates. Therefore -reason ought to be the basis of law, and so it is, on the whole. But, -on the other hand, conscience, personal conviction,—in short, all the -forms of subjective freedom—are essentially therein contained. This -subjectivity at first, it is true, stands in opposition to the laws and -reason of the state-organism as to the absolute power which desires -to appropriate to itself—through the external necessity of wants, in -which, however, there is absolute reason—the individual of the family. -Individual conscience proceeds from the subjectivity of free-will, -connects itself with the whole, chooses a position for itself, and -thus makes itself a moral fact. But this moment, this movement of -the individual, this principle of subjective freedom, is sometimes -ignored by Plato, and sometimes even intentionally disparaged, because -it proved itself to be what had wrought the ruin of Greece; and he -considers only how the state may best be organized, and not subjective -individuality. In passing beyond the principle of Greek morality, which -in its substantial liberty cannot brook the rise of subjective liberty, -the Platonic philosophy at once grasps the above principle, and in so -doing proceeds still farther. - -c. In the third place, in regard to the exclusion of the principle -of subjective freedom, this forms a chief feature in the Republic -of Plato, the spirit of which really consists in the fact, that all -aspects in which particularity as such has established its position, -are dissolved in the universal,—all men simply rank as man in general. - -α. It specially harmonizes with this particular quality of excluding -the principle of subjectivity, that Plato in the first place does -not allow individuals to choose their own class; this we demand as -necessary to freedom. It is not, however, birth which marks off the -different ranks, and determines individuals for these; but everyone is -tested by the governors of the state, who are the elders of the first -class, and have the education of individuals in their hands. According -as anyone has natural ability and talents, these elders make choice -and selection, and assign each man to a definite occupation.[73] This -seems in direct contradiction to our principle, for although it is -considered right that to a certain class there should belong a special -capacity and skill, it always remains a matter of inclination which -class one is to belong to; and with this inclination, as an apparently -free choice, the class makes itself for itself. But it is not permitted -that another individual should prescribe as to this, or say, for -example: “Because you are not serviceable for anything better, you are -to be a labourer.” Everyone may make the experiment for himself; he -must be allowed to decide regarding his own affairs as subject in a -subjective manner, by his own free will, as well as in consideration of -external circumstances; and nothing must therefore be put in his way if -he says, for instance: “I should like to apply myself to study.” - -β. From this determination it further follows that Plato (De Republica, -III. pp. 416, 417 Steph.; pp. 162-164 Bekk.) in like manner altogether -abolished in his state the principle of private property. For in it -individuality, the individual consciousness, becomes absolute; or the -person is looked on as implicit, destitute of all content. In law, -as such, I rank as “this” implicitly and explicitly. All rank thus, -and I rank only because all rank, or I rank only as universal; but -the content of this universality is fixed particularity. When in a -question of law we have to do with law, as such, to the judges of the -case it matters not a whit whether this or that man actually possesses -the house, and likewise the contending parties think nothing of the -possession of the thing for which they strive, but of right for right’s -sake, (as in morality duty is done for duty’s sake): thus a firm hold -is kept of the abstraction, and from the content of reality abstraction -is made. But Being to Philosophy is no abstraction, but the unity of -the universal and reality, or its content. The content has therefore -weight only in as far as it is negatively posited in the universal; -thus only as returning into it, and not absolutely. In so far as I -use things,—not in so far as I have them merely in my possession, -or as they have worth for me as existent, as definitely fixed on -me,—they stand in living relation to me. With Plato, then, those of the -other class (cf. _supra_, p. 101, note) carry on handicrafts, trade, -husbandry, and procure what will satisfy the general requirements, -without acquiring personal property by means of their work, for they -are all one family, wherein each has his appointed occupation; but the -product of the work is common, and he receives as much as he requires -both of his own and of the general product. Personal property is a -possession which belongs to me as a certain person, and in which my -person as such comes into existence, into reality; on this ground Plato -excludes it. It remains, however, unexplained how in the development of -industries, if there is no hope of acquiring private property, there -can be any incentive to activity; for on my being a person of energy -very much depends my capacity for holding property. That an end would -be put to all strifes and dissensions and hatred and avarice by the -abolition of private property, as Plato thinks, (De Republica, V. p. -464 Steph.; pp. 243, 244 Bekk.) may very well be imagined in a general -way; but that is only a subordinate result in comparison with the -higher and reasonable principle of the right of property: and liberty -has actual existence only so far as property falls to the share of the -person. In this way we see subjective freedom consciously removed by -Plato himself from his state. - -γ. For the same reason Plato also abolishes marriage, because it is a -connection in which persons of opposite sex, as such, remain mutually -bound to one another, even beyond the mere natural connection. Plato -does not admit into his state family life—the particular arrangement -whereby a family forms a whole by itself,—because the family is nothing -but an extended personality, a relationship to others of an exclusive -character within natural morality,—which certainly is morality, -but morality of such a character as belongs to the individual as -particularity. According to the conception of subjective freedom, -however, the family is just as necessary, yea, sacred to the individual -as is property. Plato, on the contrary, causes children to be taken -away from their mothers immediately after birth, and has them gathered -together in a special establishment, and reared by nurses taken from -among the mothers who gave them birth; he has them brought up in -common, so that no mother can possibly recognize her child. There are -certainly to be marriage celebrations, and each man is to have his -particular wife, but in such a way that the intercourse of man and wife -does not pre-suppose a personal inclination, and that it should not be -their own pleasure which marks out individuals for one another. The -women should bear children from the twentieth to the fortieth year, the -men should have wives from the thirtieth to the fifty-fifth year. To -prevent incest, all the children born at the time of a man’s marriage -shall be known as his children.[74] The women, whose natural vocation -is family life, are by this arrangement deprived of their sphere. In -the Platonic Republic it therefore follows that as the family is broken -up, and the women no longer manage the house, they are also no longer -private persons, and adopt the manners of the man as the universal -individual in the state. And Plato accordingly allows the women to take -their part like the men in all manly labours, and even to share in -the toils of war. Thus he places them on very nearly the same footing -as the men, though all the same he has no great confidence in their -bravery, but stations them in the rear only, and not even as reserve, -but only as _arrière-garde_, in order that they may at least inspire -the foe with terror by their numbers, and, in case of necessity, hasten -to give aid.[75] - -These are the main features of the Platonic Republic, which has as -its essential the suppression of the principle of individuality; and -it would appear as though the Idea demanded this, and as if this were -the very point on which Philosophy is opposed to the ordinary way -of looking at things, which gives importance to the individual, and -thus in the state, as also in actualized mind, looks on the rights of -property, and the protection of persons and their possessions, as the -basis of everything that is. Therein, however, lies the very limit -of the Platonic Idea—to emerge only as abstract idea. But, in fact, -the true Idea is nothing else than this, that every moment should -perfectly realize and embody itself, and make itself independent, -while at the same time, in its independence, it is for mind a thing -sublated. In conformity with this Idea, individuality must fully -realize itself, must have its sphere and domain in the state, and yet -be resolved in it. The element of the state is the family, that is, -the family is the natural unreasoning state; this element must, as -such, be present. Then the Idea of the state constituted by reason -has to realize all the moments of its Notion in such a way that they -become classes, and the moral substance divides itself into portions, -as the bodily substance is separated into intestines and organs, each -of which lives on in a particular way of its own, yet all of which -together form only one life. The state in general, the whole, must -finally pervade all. But in exactly the same way the formal principle -of justice, as abstract universality of personality with individual -Being as its existent content, must pervade the whole; one class, -nevertheless, specially belongs to it. There must, then, also be a -class in which property is held immediately and permanently, the -possession of the body and the possession of a piece of land alike; -and in the next place, a class where acquisition is continually going -on, and possession is not immediate, as in the other, but property is -ever fluctuating and changing. These two classes the nation gives up -as a part of itself to the principle of individuality, and allows -rights to reign here, permitting the constant, the universal, the -implicit to be sought in this principle, which really is a principle of -variability. This principle must have its full and complete reality, -it must indeed appear in the shape of property. We have here for the -first time the true, actual mind, with each moment receiving its -complete independence, and the mind itself attaining to being-another -in perfect indifference of Being. Nature cannot effect this production -of independent life in her parts, except in the great system.[76] This -is, as we shall elsewhere see, the great advance of the modern world -beyond the ancient, that in it the objective attains to greater, yea, -to absolute independence, but for the very same reason returns with all -the greater difficulty into the unity of the Idea. - -The want of subjectivity is really the want of the Greek moral idea. -The principle which became prominent with Socrates had been present up -to this time only in a more subordinate capacity; now it of necessity -became an even absolute principle, a necessary moment in the Idea -itself. By the exclusion of private property and of family life, by -the suspension of freedom in the choice of the class, _i.e._ by the -exclusion of all the determinations which relate to the principle of -subjective freedom, Plato believes he has barred the doors to all the -passions; he knew very well that the ruin of Greek life proceeded -from this, that individuals, as such, began to assert their aims, -inclinations, and interests, and made them dominate over the common -mind. But since this principle is necessary through the Christian -religion—in which the soul of the individual is an absolute end, and -thus has entered into the world as necessary in the Notion of the -mind—it is seen that the Platonic state-constitution cannot fulfil -what the higher demands of a moral organism require. Plato has not -recognized the knowledge, wishes, and resolutions of the individual, -nor his self-reliance, and has not succeeded in combining them with -his Idea; but justice demands its rights for this just as much as -it requires the higher resolution of the same, and its harmony with -the universal. The opposite to Plato’s principle is the principle of -the conscious free will of individuals, which in later times was by -Rousseau more especially raised to prominence: the theory that the -arbitrary choice of the individual, the outward expression of the -individual, is necessary. In this the principle is carried to the -very opposite extreme, and has emerged in its utter one-sidedness. -In opposition to this arbitrariness and culture there must be the -implicitly and explicitly universal, that which is in thought, not as -wise governor or morality, but as law, and at the same time as my Being -and my thought, _i.e._ as subjectivity and individuality. Men must have -brought forth from themselves the rational along with their interests -and their passions, just as it must enter into reality through the -necessities, opportunities, and motives that impel them. - -There is still another celebrated side of the Platonic philosophy which -may be considered, namely æsthetics, the knowledge of the beautiful. In -respect to this, Plato has in like manner seized the one true thought, -that the essence of the beautiful is intellectual, the Idea of reason. -When he speaks of a spiritual beauty, he is to be understood in the -sense that beauty, as beauty, is sensuous beauty, which is not in some -other place—no one knows where; but what is beautiful to the senses -is really the spiritual. The case is the same here as it is with his -Idea. As the essence and truth of phenomena in general is the Idea, -the truth of phenomenal beauty must also be this Idea. The relation -to the corporeal, as a relation of the desires, or of pleasure and -utility, is no relation to it as the beautiful; it is a relation to -it as the sensuous alone, or a relation of particular to particular. -But the essence of the beautiful is just the simple Idea of reason -present to the sensuous apprehension as a thing; the content of the -thing is nothing else than this.[77] The beautiful is essentially of -spiritual nature; it is thus not merely a sensuous thing, but reality -subject to the form of universality, to the truth. This universal -does not, however, retain the form of universality, but the universal -is the content whose form is the sensuous mode; and therein lies the -determination of the beautiful. In science, the universal has again the -form of the universal or of the Notion; but the beautiful appears as an -actual thing—or, when put into words, as a popular conception, in which -mode the material exists in mind. The nature, essence, and content of -the beautiful is recognized and judged by reason alone, as its content -is the same as that of Philosophy. But because reason appears in the -beautiful in material guise, the beautiful ranks below knowledge, and -Plato has for this very reason placed the true manifestation of reason -in knowledge, where it is spiritually manifested. - -This may be regarded as the kernel of Plato’s philosophy. His -standpoint is: first, the contingent form of speech, in which men -of noble and unfettered nature converse without other interest than -that of the theory which is being worked out; secondly, led on by the -content, they reach the deepest Notions and the finest thoughts, like -jewels on which one stumbles, if not exactly in a sandy desert, yet at -least upon the arid path; in the third place, no systematic connection -is to be found, though one interest is the source of all; in the fourth -place, the subjectivity of the Notion is lacking throughout; but in the -fifth place, the substantial Idea forms the principle. - -Plato’s philosophy had two stages through which it of necessity -developed and worked its way up to a higher principle. The universal -which is in reason had first to fall into two divisions opposed to -each other in the most direct and unmitigated contradiction, in the -independence of the personal consciousness which exists for itself: -thus in the New Academy self-consciousness goes back into itself, -and becomes a species of scepticism—the negative reason, which -turns against all that is universal, and fails to find the unity -of self-consciousness and the universal, coming accordingly to a -standstill at that point. But, in the second place, the Neo-Platonists -constitute the return, this unity of self-consciousness and the -absolute essence; to them God is directly present in reason, reasoned -knowledge itself is the Divine Spirit, and the content of this -knowledge is the Being of God. Both of these we shall consider later. - - -B. ARISTOTLE. - -Here we leave Plato, and we do so with regret. But seeing that we -pass to his disciple, Aristotle, we fear that it behoves us to enter -even more into detail, since he was one of the richest and deepest -of all the scientific geniuses that have as yet appeared—a man whose -like no later age has ever yet produced. Because we still possess so -large a number of his works, the extent of the material at hand is -proportionately greater; unfortunately, however, I cannot give to -Aristotle the amount of attention that he deserves. For we shall have -to confine ourselves to a general view of his philosophy, and simply -remark on one particular phase of it, viz. in how far Aristotle in his -philosophy carried out what in the Platonic principle had been begun, -both in reference to the profundity of the ideas there contained, and -to their expansion; no one is more comprehensive and speculative than -he, although his methods are not systematic. - -As regards the general character of Aristotle’s writings, he may be -said to have extended his attention to the whole circle of human -conceptions, to have penetrated all regions of the actual universal, -and to have brought under the subjection of the Notion both their -riches and their diversitude. For most of the philosophic sciences -have to render thanks to him both for their characterization and first -commencement. But although in this way Science throughout falls into -a succession of intellectual determinations of determinate Notions, -the Aristotelian philosophy still contains the profoundest speculative -Notions. Aristotle proceeds in reference to the whole in the same -way as in the individual case. But a general view of his philosophy -does not give us the impression of its being in construction a -self-systematized whole, of which the order and connection pertain -likewise to the Notion; for the parts are empirically selected -and placed together in such a way that each part is independently -recognized as a determinate conception, without being taken into the -connecting movement of the science. We need not try to demonstrate -necessity from the standpoint of the philosophy of that time. But -although Aristotle’s system does not appear to be developed in its -parts from the Notion, and its parts are merely ranged side by side, -they still form a totality of truly speculative philosophy. - -One reason for treating of Aristotle in detail rests in the fact that -no philosopher has had so much wrong done him by the thoughtless -traditions which have been received respecting his philosophy, and -which are still the order of the day, although for centuries he was -the instructor of all philosophers. For to him views are ascribed -diametrically opposite to his philosophy. And while Plato is much read, -the treasures contained in Aristotle have for centuries, and until -quite modern times, been as good as unknown, and the falsest prejudices -reign respecting him. Almost no one knows his speculative and logical -works; in modern times more justice has been done to his writings -regarding nature, but not to his philosophic views. For instance, there -is a quite generally held opinion that the Aristotelian and Platonic -philosophies are directly opposed, the one being idealistic and the -other realistic, and that, indeed, in the most trivial sense. For Plato -is said to have made the ideal his principle, so that the inward -idea creates from itself; according to Aristotle, on the contrary, -we are told that the soul is made a _tabula rasa_, receiving all its -determinations quite passively from the outer world; and his philosophy -is thus mere empiricism—Locke’s philosophy at its worst. But we shall -see how little this really is the case. In fact Aristotle excels Plato -in speculative depth, for he was acquainted with the deepest kind of -speculation—idealism—and in this upholds the most extreme empirical -development. Quite false views respecting Aristotle even now exist in -France. An example of how tradition blindly echoes opinions respecting -him, without having observed from his works whether they are justified -or not, is the fact that in the old Æsthetics the three unities of the -drama—action, time and place—were held to be _règles d’Aristote, la -saine doctrine_. But Aristotle speaks (Poet. c. 8 et 5)[78] only of the -unity of treatment, or very occasionally of the unity of time; of the -third unity, that of place, he says nothing. - -As regards Aristotle’s life, he was born at Stagira, a Thracian town -on the Strymonian Gulf, but a Greek colony. Thus, though a Thracian, -he was by birth a Greek. This Greek colony fell, however, like The -rest of the country, under the rule of Philip of Macedon. The year of -Aristotle’s birth is the first of the 99th Olympiad (384 B.C.), and -if Plato was born in the third year of the 87th Olympiad (430 B.C.), -Aristotle must have been forty-six years younger than he. His father -Nicomachus was physician to the Macedonian king, Amyntas, the father -of Philip. After the death of his parents, whom he lost early, he -was brought up by a certain Proxenus, to whom he was ever grateful; -and during all his life he held the memory of this friend in such -high esteem, that he honoured it by erecting statues to him. He also -requited Proxenus for the education given him, by later on bringing -up his son Nicanor, adopting him as his own son and making him his -heir. In the seventeenth year of his age Aristotle came to Athens, -and remained there twenty years in company with Plato.[79] He thus -had the best possible opportunity of becoming thoroughly acquainted -with Plato’s philosophy, and therefore, if we are told that he did not -understand it (Vol. I p. 167), this is shown, by the evident facts -of the case, to be an arbitrary and quite unfounded assumption. As -regards the relation of Plato to Aristotle, and particularly as regards -the fact that Plato did not select Aristotle as his successor in the -Academy, but chose Speusippus, a near relative, instead, a number of -idle and contradictory anecdotes have come to us from Diogenes (V. 2). -If the continuation of the Platonic school was designed to express -the hope that the philosophy of Plato, as comprehended by himself, -was to be there satisfactorily maintained, Plato could certainly not -designate Aristotle as his successor, and Speusippus was the right -man to be selected. However, Plato had nevertheless Aristotle as his -successor, for Aristotle understood Philosophy in Plato’s sense, though -his philosophy was deeper and more worked out, and thus he carried it -further. Displeasure at being thus passed over is said to have been the -cause of Aristotle’s leaving Athens after Plato’s death, and living -for three years with Hermias, the Tyrant of Atarneus in Mysia, who had -been a disciple of Plato along with Aristotle, and who had then struck -up a close friendship with the latter. Hermias, an independent prince, -was, together with other absolute Greek princes and some Republics, -brought under the subjection of a Persian satrap in Asia Minor. Hermias -was even sent as prisoner to Artaxerxes in Persia, and he at once -caused him to be crucified. In order to avoid a similar fate, Aristotle -fled with his wife Pythias, the daughter of Hermias, to Mitylene, and -lived there for some time. He, however, erected a statue to Hermias in -Delphi, with an inscription which has been preserved. From it we know -that it was by cunning and treachery that he came under the power of -the Persians. Aristotle also honoured his name in a beautiful hymn on -Virtue, which has likewise come down to us.[80] - -From Mitylene he was (Ol. 109, 2; 343 B.C.) summoned by Philip of -Macedon to undertake the education of Alexander, who was then fifteen -years old. Philip had already invited him to do this in the well-known -letter that he addressed to him just after Alexander’s birth: “Know -that a son is born to me, but I thank the gods less that they have -given him to me, than that they have caused him to be born in your -time. For I hope that your care and your wisdom will make him worthy -of me and of his future kingdom.”[81] It certainly would appear to be -a brilliant historic destiny to be the instructor of an Alexander, and -Aristotle at this court enjoyed the favour and esteem of Philip and -of Olympias in the highest degree. What became of Aristotle’s pupil -is known to all, and the greatness of Alexander’s mind and deeds, as -also his enduring friendship, are the best witnesses of the success, -as also of the spirit of this up-bringing, if Aristotle required such -testimony. Alexander’s education utterly refuted the common talk about -the practical uselessness of speculative philosophy. Aristotle had in -Alexander another and worthier pupil than Plato found in Dionysius. -Plato’s great interest was his Republic, the ideal of a state; he -enters into relation with a person through whom it might be carried -out; the individual was thus to him a medium only, and in so far -indifferent to him. With Aristotle, on the other hand, this purpose was -not present, he merely had the simple individual before him; and his -end was to bring up and to develop the individuality as such. Aristotle -is known to be a profound, thorough, and abstract metaphysician, and it -is evident that he meant seriously with Alexander. That Aristotle did -not follow with Alexander the ordinary superficial method of educating -princes, might be confidently expected from the earnestness of one who -well knew what was truth and true culture. It is also evident from -the circumstance that Alexander, while in the midst of his conquests -in the heart of Asia, when he heard that Aristotle had made known his -acroamatic doctrines in speculative (metaphysical) writings, wrote him -a reproachful letter, in which he said that he should not have made -known to the common people what the two had worked out together. To -this Aristotle replied that, though published, they were really just as -much unpublished as before.[82] - -This is not the place to estimate Alexander as an historic personage. -What can be ascribed in Alexander’s education to Aristotle’s -philosophic instruction is the fact that what was natural to him, the -inherent greatness of his mental disposition, acquired inward freedom -also, and became elevated into the perfect, self-conscious independence -which we see in his aims and deeds. Alexander attained to that perfect -certainty of himself which the infinite boldness of thought alone -gives, and to an independence of particular and limited projects, as -also to their elevation into the entirely universal end of bringing -about in the world a social life and intercourse of a mutual kind, -through the foundation of states which were free from contingent -individuality. Alexander thus carried out the plan which his father -had already conceived, which was, at the head of the Greeks, to avenge -Europe upon Asia, and to subject Asia to Greece; so that as it was in -the beginning of Greek history that the Greeks were united, and that -only for the Trojan war, this union likewise brought the Greek world -proper to an end. Alexander thereby also avenged the faithlessness and -cruelty perpetrated by the Persians on Aristotle’s friend Hermias. But -Alexander further disseminated Greek culture over Asia, in order to -elevate into a Greek world this wild medley of utter barbarism, bent -solely on destruction, and torn by internal dissensions, these lands -entirely sunk in indolence, negation, and spiritual degeneracy. And if -it be said that he was merely a conqueror who was unable to establish -an enduring kingdom, because his kingdom at his death once more fell to -pieces, we must acknowledge that, from a superficial view of the case, -this is true, as his family did not retain their rule; Greek rule was, -however, maintained. Thus Alexander did not found an extensive kingdom -for his family, but he founded a kingdom of the Greek nation over Asia; -for Greek culture and science have since his time taken root there. -The Greek kingdoms of Asia Minor, and particularly of Egypt, were for -centuries the home of science; and their influence may have extended -as far as to India and to China. We certainly do not know definitely -whether the Indians may not have obtained what is best in their -sciences in this way, but it is probable that at least the more exact -portion of Indian astronomy came to them from Greece. For it was from -the Syrian kingdom, stretching into Asia Minor as far as to a Greek -kingdom in Bactria, that there was doubtless conveyed to the interior -of India and China, by means of Greek colonies migrating thither, the -meagre scientific knowledge which has lingered there like a tradition, -though it has never flourished. For the Chinese, for example, are -not skilful enough to make a calendar of their own, or to think for -themselves. Yet they exhibited ancient instruments unsuited to any work -done by them, and the immediate conjecture was that these had come from -Bactria. The high idea that men had of the sciences of the Indians and -of the Chinese hence is false. - -According to Ritter (Erdkunde, Vol. II. p. 839, of the first edition), -Alexander did not set out merely with a view of conquering, but with -the idea that he was the Lord. I do not think that Aristotle placed -this notion, which was connected with another Oriental conception, in -the mind of Alexander. The other idea is that in the East the name of -Alexander still flourishes as Ispander, and as Dul-k-ar-nein, _i.e._ -the man with two horns, just as Jupiter Ammon is an ancient Eastern -hero. The question would now be whether the Macedonian kings did not, -through their descent from the ancient race of Indian heroes, claim -to rule this land; by this the progress of Dionysius from Thrace to -India could likewise be explained; whether the “knowledge of this was -not the real and fundamental religious idea inspiring the young hero’s -soul when, before his journey to Asia, he found on the lower Ister -(Danube) Indian priestly states where the immortality of the soul was -taught, and when, certainly not without the counsel of Aristotle, who, -through Plato and Pythagoras, was initiated into Indian wisdom, he -began the march into the East, and first of all visited the Oracle of -Ammonium (now Siwah), and then destroyed the Persian kingdom and burnt -Persepolis, the old enemy of Indian religion, in order to take revenge -upon it for all the violence exercised through Darius on the Buddhists -and their co-religionists.” This is an ingenious theory, formed from a -thorough investigation of the connection which exists between Oriental -and European ideas from the higher point of view in history. But, in -the first place, this conjecture is contrary to the historical basis -on which I take my stand. Alexander’s expedition has quite another -historic, military, and political character than this, and had not much -to do with his going to India; it was, on the face of it, an ordinary -conquest. In the second place, Aristotle’s metaphysic and philosophy -is far from recognizing any such foolish and extravagant imaginations. -The elevation of Alexander in the Oriental mind into an acknowledged -hero and god, which followed later, is, in the third place, not matter -for surprise; the Dalai-Lama is still thus honoured, and God and man -are never so very far asunder. Greece likewise worked its way to the -idea of a God becoming man, and that not as a remote and foreign image, -but as a present God in a godless world: Demetrius Phalereus and -others were thus soon after honoured and worshipped in Athens as God. -Was the infinite not also now transplanted into self-consciousness? -Fourthly, the Buddhists did not interest Alexander, and in his Indian -expedition they do not appear; the destruction of Persepolis is, -however, sufficiently justified as a measure of Greek vengeance for the -destruction by Xerxes of the temples in Greece, especially in Athens. - -While Alexander accomplished this great work—for he was the greatest -individual at the head of Greece, he ever kept science and art in -mind. Just as in modern times we have once more met with warriors -who thought of science and of art in their campaigns, we also find -that Alexander made an arrangement whereby whatever was discovered in -the way of animals and plants in Asia should be sent to Aristotle, -or else drawings and descriptions of the same. This consideration on -Alexander’s part afforded to Aristotle a most favourable opportunity -of collecting treasures for his study of nature. Pliny (Histor. natur. -VIII., 17 ed. Bip.) relates that Alexander directed about a thousand -men, who lived by hunting, fishing and fowling, the overseers of the -zoological gardens, aviaries, and tanks of the Persian kingdom, to -supply Aristotle with what was remarkable from every place. In this -way Alexander’s campaign in Asia had the further effect of enabling -Aristotle to found the science of natural history, and to be the -author, according to Pliny, of a natural history in fifty parts. - -After Alexander commenced his journey to Asia, Aristotle returned to -Athens, and made his appearance as a public teacher in the Lyceum, -a pleasure-ground which Pericles had made for the exercising of -recruits; it consisted of a temple dedicated to Apollo (Λύκειος), and -shady walks (περίπατοι), which were enlivened by trees, fountains -and colonnades. It was from these walks that his school received the -name of Peripatetics, and not from any walking about on the part of -Aristotle—because, it is said, he delivered his discourses usually -while walking. He lived and taught in Athens for thirteen years. But -after the death of Alexander there broke out a tempest which had, as -it appeared, been long held back through fear of Alexander; Aristotle -was accused of impiety. The facts are differently stated: amongst other -things it is said that his hymn to Hermias and the inscription on the -statue dedicated to him were laid to his charge. When he saw the storm -gathering, he escaped to Chalcis in Eub\na, the present Negropont, -in order, as he himself said, that the Athenians should not have an -opportunity of once more sinning against Philosophy. There he died, -in the next year, in the sixty-third year of his age, Ol. 114, 3 (322 -B.C.).[83] - -We derive Aristotle’s philosophy from his writings; but when we -consider their history and nature, so far as externals are concerned, -the difficulty of deriving a knowledge of his philosophy from them -seems much increased. I cannot certainly enter into details regarding -these last. Diogenes Laërtius (V. 21-27) mentions a very large -number of them, but by their titles we do not always quite know -which of those now in our possession are indicated, since the titles -are entirely different. Diogenes gives the number of lines as four -hundred and forty-five thousand, two hundred and seventy, and, if we -count about ten thousand lines in a printer’s alphabet, this gives -us forty-four alphabets. What we now have might perhaps amount to -about ten alphabets, so that we have only about the fourth part left -to us. The history of the Aristotelian manuscripts has been stated -to be such that it would really seem impossible, or almost hopeless, -that any one of his writings should have been preserved to us in its -original condition, and not corrupted. Doubts regarding their genuine -character could not in such circumstances fail to exist; and we can -only wonder at seeing them come down to us even in the condition in -which they are. For, as we have said, Aristotle made them known but -little during his lifetime, and he left his writings to Theophrastus, -his successor, with the rest of his immense library. This, indeed, -is the first considerable library, collected as it was by means of -personal wealth along with Alexander’s assistance, and hence it also -reveals to us Aristotle’s learning. Later on, it came partially, or in -some cases in duplicate, to Alexandria, and formed the basis of the -Ptolemaic library, which, on the taking of Alexandria by Julius Cæsar, -became a prey to fire. But of the manuscripts of Aristotle himself -it is said that Theophrastus left them by will to a certain Neleus, -from whom they came into the hands of ignorant men, who either kept -them without care or estimation of their value, or else the heirs of -Neleus, in order to save them from the Kings of Pergamus, who were -very anxious to collect a library, hid them in a cellar, where they -lay forgotten for a hundred and thirty years, and thus got into bad -condition. Finally, the descendants of Theophrastus found them again -after long search, and sold them to Apellicon of Teos, who restored -what had been destroyed by worms and mould, but who did not possess -the learning or the capacity so to do. Hence others went over them, -filled up the blanks as they thought best, replaced what was damaged, -and thus they were sufficiently altered. But still it was not enough. -Just after Apellicon’s death, the Roman Sulla conquered Athens, and -amongst the spoil carried off to Rome were the works of Aristotle. The -Romans, who had just begun to become acquainted with Greek science and -art, but who did not yet appreciate Greek philosophy, did not know how -to profit from this spoil. A Greek, named Tyrannion, later on obtained -permission to make use of and publish the manuscripts of Aristotle, and -he prepared an edition of them, which, however, also bears the reproach -of being inaccurate, for here they had the fate of being given by the -dealers into the hands of ignorant copyists, who introduced a number of -additional corruptions.[84] - -This is the way in which the Aristotelian philosophy has come to us. -Aristotle certainly made known much to his contemporaries, that is to -say, the writings in the Alexandrian library, but even those works do -not seem to have been widely known. In fact, many of them are most -corrupt, imperfect, and, as, for example, the Poetics, incomplete. -Several of them, such as the Metaphysical treatises, seem to be patched -up from different writings, so that the higher criticism can give rein -to all its ingenuity, and, according to one clever critic, the matter -may with much show of probability be decided in one particular way, -while another ingenious person has a different explanation to oppose -to this.[85] So much remains certain, that the writings of Aristotle -are corrupt, and often both in their details and in the main, not -consistent; and we often find whole paragraphs almost verbally -repeated. Since the evil is so old, no real cure can certainly be -looked for; however, the matter is not so bad as would appear from this -description. There are many and important works which may be considered -to be entire and uninjured, and though there are others corrupt here -and there, or not well arranged, yet, as far as the essentials are -concerned, no such great harm has been done as might appear. What we -possess therefore places us in a sufficiently good position to form a -definite idea of the Aristotelian philosophy, both as a whole, and in -many of its details. - -But there is still an historic distinction to be noted. For there is -an old tradition that Aristotle’s teaching was of a twofold nature -and that his writings were of two different kinds, viz. esoteric or -acroamatic and exoteric—a distinction which was also made by the -Pythagoreans (Vol. I. p 202). The esoteric teaching was given within -the Lyceum in the morning, the exoteric in the evening; the latter -related to practice in the art of rhetoric and in disputation, as -also to civic business, but the other to the inward and more profound -philosophy, to the contemplation of nature and to dialectic proper.[86] -This circumstance is of no importance; we see by ourselves which of -his works are really speculative and philosophic, and which are rather -empirical in character; but they are not to be regarded as antagonistic -in their content, and as if Aristotle intended some for the people and -others for his more intimate disciples. - -_a._ We have first to remark that the name Aristotelian philosophy is -most ambiguous, because what is called Aristotelian philosophy has at -different times taken very different forms. It first of all signifies -Aristotelian philosophy proper. As regards the other forms of the -Aristotelian philosophy, however, it had, in the second place, at the -time of Cicero, and specially under the name of Peripatetic philosophy, -more of the form of a popular philosophy, in which attention was -principally directed to natural history and to morals (Vol. I. p. 479). -This period does not appear to have taken any interest in working -out and bringing to consciousness the deep and properly speaking -speculative side of Aristotelian philosophy, and indeed with Cicero -there is no notion of it present. A third form of this philosophy -is the highly speculative form of the Alexandrine philosophy, which -is also called the Neo-Pythagorean or Neo-Platonic philosophy, but -which may just as well be called Neo-Aristotelian—the form as it is -regarded and worked up by the Alexandrines, as being identical with -the Platonic. An important signification of the expression, in the -fourth place, is that which it had in the middle ages where, through -insufficient knowledge, the scholastic philosophy was designated -Aristotelian. The Scholastics occupied themselves much with it, but the -form that the philosophy of Aristotle took with them cannot be held by -us to be the true form. All their achievements, and the whole extent of -the metaphysics of the understanding and formal logic which we discover -in them, do not belong to Aristotle at all. Scholasticism is derived -only from traditions of the Aristotelian doctrines. And it was not -until the writings of Aristotle became better known in the West, that -a fifth Aristotelian philosophy was formed, which was in part opposed -to the Scholastic—it arose on the decline of scholasticism and with the -revival of the sciences. For it was only after the Reformation that -men went back to the fountainhead, to Aristotle himself. The sixth -signification which Aristotelian philosophy bears, is found in false -modern ideas and conceptions, such as those that we find in Tennemann, -who is gifted with too little philosophic understanding to be able -to grasp the Aristotelian philosophy (Vol. I. p. 113). Indeed, the -general opinion of Aristotelian philosophy now held is that it made -what is called experience the principle of knowledge. - -_b._ However false this point of view on the one hand is, the occasion -for it may be found in the Aristotelian manner. Some particular -passages to which in this reference great importance has been given, -and which have been almost the only passages understood, are made use -of to prove this idea. Hence we have now to speak of the character of -the Aristotelian manner. Since in Aristotle, as we already said (p. -118), we need not seek a system of philosophy the particular parts of -which have been deduced, but since he seems to take an external point -of departure and to advance empirically, his manner is often that -of ordinary ratiocination. But because in so doing Aristotle has a -quality, altogether his own, of being throughout intensely speculative -in his manner, it is further signified that in the first place he -has comprehended the phenomenal as a thinking observer. He has the -world of appearance before himself complete and in entirety, and sets -nothing aside, however common it may appear. All sides of knowledge -have entered into his mind, all have interest for him, and he has -thoroughly dealt with all. In the empirical details of a phenomenon -abstraction may easily be lost sight of, and its application may be -difficult: our progress may be one-sided, and we may not be able to -reach the root of the matter at all. But Aristotle, because he looks at -all sides of the universe, takes up all those units as a speculative -philosopher, and so works upon them that the profoundest speculative -Notion proceeds therefrom. We saw, moreover, thought first proceeding -from the sensuous, and, in Sophistry, still exercising itself -immediately in the phenomenal. In perception, in ordinary conception, -the categories appear: the absolute essence, the speculative view of -these elements, is always expressed in expressing perceptions. This -pure essence in perception Aristotle takes up. When, in the second -place, he begins conversely with the universal or the simple, and -passes to its determination, this looks as if he were enumerating the -number of significations in which it appears; and, after dealing with -them all, he again passes all their forms in review, even the quite -ordinary and sensuous. He thus speaks of the many significations that -we find, for example, is the words οὐσία, ἀρχή, αἰτία, ὁμοῦ, &c. It -is in some measure wearisome to follow him in this mere enumeration, -which proceeds without any necessity being present, and in which the -significations, of which a list is given, manifest themselves as -comprehended only in their essence, or in that which is common to all, -and not in their determinations; and thus the comprehension is only -external. But, on the one hand, this mode presents a complete series of -the moments, and on the other, it arouses personal investigation for -the discovery of necessity. In the third place, Aristotle takes up the -different thoughts which earlier philosophers have had, contradicts -them—often empirically—justifies them, reasoning in all sorts of ways, -and then attains to the truly speculative point of view. And finally, -in the fourth place, Aristotle passes on thoughtfully to consider -the object itself of which he treats, _e.g._ the soul, feeling, -recollection, thought, motion, time, place, warmth, cold, &c. Because -he takes all the moments that are contained within the conception to -be, so to speak, united, he does not omit determinations; he does not -hold now to one determination and then to another, but takes them as -all in one; while reflection of the understanding, which has identity -as the rule by which it goes, can only preserve harmony with this by -always, while in one determination, forgetting and withholding the -other. But Aristotle has the patience to go through all conceptions and -questions, and from the investigation of the individual determinations, -we have the fixed, and once more restored determination of every -object. Aristotle thus forms the Notion, and is in the highest -degree really philosophic, while he appears to be only empiric. For -Aristotle’s empiricism is a totality because he always leads it back -again immediately to speculation; he may thus be said to be a perfect -empiricist, yet at the same time a thinking one. If, for example, we -take away from space all its empirical determinations, the result will -be in the highest degree speculative, for the empirical, comprehended -in its synthesis, is the speculative Notion. - -In this gathering up of determinations into one Notion, Aristotle -is great and masterly, as he also is in regard to the simplicity of -his method of progression, and in the giving of his decisions in few -words. This is a method of treating of Philosophy which has great -efficacy, and which in our time has likewise been applied, _e.g._ by -the French. It deserves to come into larger use, for it is a good -thing to lead the determinations of the ordinary conception from an -object to thought, and then to unite them in a unity, in the Notion. -But undoubtedly this method in one respect appears to be empirical, -and that, indeed, in the acceptation of objects as we know them in our -consciousness; for if no necessity is present, this still more appears -merely to pertain to manner externally regarded. And yet it cannot -be denied that with Aristotle the object was not to bring everything -to a unity, or to reduce determinations to a unity of opposites, -but, on the contrary, to retain each in its determination and thus -to follow it up. That may, on the one hand, be a superficial method, -_e.g._ when everything is brought to an empty determinateness, such -as those of irritability and sensibility, sthenic and asthenic, but, -on the other, it is likewise necessary to grasp reality in simple -determinateness, though without making the latter in this superficial -way the starting point. Aristotle, on the other hand, simply forsakes -determination in another sphere where it no longer has this form; but -he shows what it is like here, or what change has taken place within -it, and thus it comes to pass that he often treats one determination -after the other without showing their connection. However, in his -genuine speculation Aristotle is as profound as Plato, and at the -same time more developed and explicit, for with him the opposites -receive a higher determination. Certainly we miss in him the beauty of -Plato’s form, the melodious speech, or, as we might almost call it, -chatting—the conversational tone adopted, which is as lively as it is -cultured and human. But where in Plato we find, as we do in his Timæus, -the speculative Idea definitely expressed in the thesis form, we see in -it a lack both of comprehension and purity; the pure element escapes -it, while Aristotle’s form of expression is marked both by purity and -intelligibility. We learn to know the object in its determination -and its determinate Notion; but Aristotle presses further into the -speculative nature of the object, though in such a way that the latter -remains in its concrete determination, and Aristotle seldom leads -it back to abstract thought-determinations. The study of Aristotle -is hence inexhaustible, but to give an account of him is difficult, -because his teaching must be reduced to universal principles. Thus in -order to set forth Aristotelian philosophy, the particular content -of each thing would have to be specified. But if we would be serious -with Philosophy, nothing would be more desirable than to lecture upon -Aristotle, for he is of all the ancients the most deserving of study. - -_c._ What ought to come next is the determination of the Aristotelian -Idea, and here we have to say, in quite a general way, that Aristotle -commences with Philosophy generally, and says, in the first place, -regarding the value of Philosophy (in the second chapter of the first -book of the Metaphysics), that the object of Philosophy is what is most -knowable, viz. the first and original causes, that is, the rational. -For through these and from these all else is known, but principles -do not become known through the facts which form their groundwork -(ὑποκείμενα). In this we already have the opposite to the ordinary -point of view. Aristotle has further declared the chief subject of -investigation, or the most essential knowledge (ἐπιστήμη ἀρχικωτάτη) -to be the knowledge of end; but this is the good in each thing and, -generally speaking, the best in the whole of nature. This also holds -good with Plato and Socrates; yet the end is the true, the concrete, -as against the abstract Platonic Idea. Aristotle then says of the -value of Philosophy, “Men have begun to philosophize through wonder,” -for in it the knowledge of something higher is at least anticipated. -“Thus since man, to escape from ignorance, began to philosophize, it -is clear that for the sake of knowledge he followed after knowledge, -and not for any utility which it might possess for him. This is also -made evident by the whole course of its external history. For it was -after men had done with all their absolute requirements, and with what -concerns their comfort, that they first began to seek this philosophic -knowledge. We hence seek it not for the sake of any outside utility -that it may have. And thus as we say that a free man is he who exists -on his own account and not for another, Philosophy is the only science -that is free, because it alone exists for itself—it is knowledge on -account of knowledge. Therefore in justice it will not be held to be -a human possession,” in the sense that, as we said above, (p. 11) it -is not in the possession of a man. “For in many ways the nature of man -is dependent, so that, according to Simonides, God alone possesses -the prerogative (γέρας), and yet it is unworthy on man’s part not to -seek after the science that is in conformity with his own condition -(τὴν καθ̓ αὑτὸν ἐπιστήνην). But if the poets were right, and envy -characterized divinity, all who would aim higher must be unfortunate;” -Nemesis punishes whatever raises itself above the commonplace, and -makes everything again equal. “But the divine cannot be jealous,” -_i.e._ cannot refuse to impart that which it is, as if this knowledge -should not come to man (_supra_, pp. 72, 73) “and—according to the -proverb—the poets utter many falsehoods. Nor ought we to consider that -any science is more entitled to honour than the one we now investigate, -for that which is most divine, is also most worthy of honour.” That is -to say, what has and imparts what is best is honoured: the gods are -thus to be honoured because they have this knowledge. “God is held -to be the cause and principle of everything, and therefore God has -this science alone, or for the most part.” But for this reason it is -not unworthy of man to endeavour to seek the highest good which is -in conformity with him, this knowledge pertaining to God. “All other -sciences are, however, more requisite than Philosophy, but none more -excellent.” - -It is difficult to give a more detailed account of the Aristotelian -philosophy, the universal Idea with the more important elements, for -Aristotle is much more difficult to comprehend than Plato. In the -latter there are myths, and we can pass over the dialectic and yet -say that we have read Plato; but with Aristotle we enter at once upon -what is speculative. Aristotle always seems to have philosophized only -respecting the individual and particular, and not to have risen from it -to the thought of the absolute and universal, to the thought of God; he -always goes from the individual to the individual. His task concerns -what is, and is just as clearly divided off as a professor has his -work divided into a half year’s course; and though in this course he -examines the whole of the world of conception, he yet appears only to -have recognized the truth in the particular, or only a succession of -particular truths. This has nothing dazzling about it, for he does not -appear to have risen to the Idea (as Plato speaks of the nobility of -Idea), nor to have led back to it the individual. But if Aristotle on -the one hand did not logically abstract the universal Idea, (for then -his so-called logic, which is something very different, would have had -as its principle the recognition of one Notion in all) on the other -hand there appears in Aristotle the one Absolute, the idea of God, as -itself a particular, in its place beside the others, although it is all -Truth. It is as if we said, “there are plants, animals, men, and also -God, the most excellent of all.” - -From the whole list of conceptions which Aristotle enumerates, we -shall now select some for further examination, and I will first speak -of his metaphysics and its determinations. Then I will deal with the -particular sciences which have been treated by Aristotle, beginning by -giving the fundamental conception of nature as it is constituted with -Aristotle; in the third place I will say something of mind, of the soul -and its conditions, and finally the logical books of Aristotle will -follow. - - -1. THE METAPHYSICS. - -Aristotle’s speculative Idea is chiefly to be gathered from his -Metaphysics, especially from the last chapters of the twelfth book -(Λ) which deal with the divine Thought. But this treatise has the -peculiar drawback noticed above (p. 128) of being a compilation, -several treatises having been combined into one. Aristotle and the -ancients did not know this work by the name of the Metaphysics; it was -by them called πρώτη φιλοσοφία.[87] The main portion of this treatise -has a certain appearance of unity given to it by the connection of -the argument,[88] but it cannot be said that the style is orderly -and lucid. This pure philosophy Aristotle very clearly distinguishes -(Metaph. IV. 1) from the other sciences as “the science of that which -is, in so far as it is, and of what belongs to it implicitly and -explicitly.” The main object which Aristotle has in view (Metaph. VII. -1) is the definition of what this substance (οὐσία) really is. In -this ontology or, as we call it, logic, he investigates and minutely -distinguishes four principles (Metaph. I. 3): first, determination or -quality as such, the wherefore of anything, essence or form; secondly, -the matter; thirdly, the principle of motion; and fourthly, the -principle of final cause, or of the good. In the later part of the -Metaphysics Aristotle returns repeatedly to the determination of the -Ideas, but here also a want of connection of thought appears, even -though all is subsequently united into an entirely speculative Notion. - -To proceed, there are two leading forms, which Aristotle characterizes -as that of potentiality (δύναμις) and that of actuality (ἐνέργεια); -the latter is still more closely characterized as entelechy -(ἐντελεχεια) or free activity, which has the end (τὸ τέλος) in itself, -and is the realization of this end. These are determinations which -occur repeatedly in Aristotle, especially in the ninth book of the -Metaphysics, and which we must be familiar with, if we would understand -him. The expression δύναμις is with Aristotle the beginning, the -implicit, the objective; also the abstract universal in general, the -Idea, the matter, which can take on all forms, without being itself -the form-giving principle. But with an empty abstraction such as the -thing-in-itself Aristotle has nothing to do. It is first in energy -or, more concretely, in subjectivity, that he finds the actualizing -form, the self-relating negativity. When, on the other hand, we -speak of Being, activity is not yet posited: Being is only implicit, -only potentiality, without infinite form. To Aristotle the main fact -about Substance is that it is not matter merely (Metaph. VII. 3); -although in ordinary life this is what is generally taken to be the -substantial. All that is contains matter, it is true, all change -demands a substratum (ὑποκείμενον) to be affected by it; but because -matter itself is only potentiality, and not actuality—which belongs to -form—matter cannot truly exist without the activity of form (Metaph. -VIII. 1, 2). With Aristotle δύναμις does not therefore mean force -(for force is really an imperfect aspect of form), but rather capacity -which is not even undetermined possibility; ἐνέργεια is, on the other -hand, pure, spontaneous activity. These definitions were of importance -throughout all the middle ages. Thus, according to Aristotle, the -essentially absolute substance has potentiality and actuality, form and -matter, not separated from one another; for the true objective has most -certainly also activity in itself, just as the true subjective has also -potentiality. - -From this definition we now see clearly the sort of opposition in -which the Idea of Aristotle stands to that of Plato, for although -the Idea of Plato is in itself essentially concrete and determined, -Aristotle goes further. In so far, namely, as the Idea is determined -in itself, the relation of the moments in it can be more closely -specified, and this relation of the moments to each other is to be -conceived of as nothing other than activity. It is easy for us to -have a consciousness of what is deficient in the universal, that is, -of that which is implicit only. The universal, in that it is the -universal, has as yet no reality, for because implicitude is inert, -the activity of realization is not yet posited therein. Reason, -laws, etc., are in this way abstract, but the rational, as realizing -itself, we recognize to be necessary, and therefore we take such -universal laws but little into account. Now the standpoint of Plato -is in the universal; what he does is to express Being rather as the -objective, the Good, the end, the universal. To this, however, the -principle of living subjectivity, as the moment of reality, seems -to be lacking, or it appears at least to be put in the background. -This negative principle seems indeed not to be directly expressed -in Plato, but it is essentially contained in his definition of the -Absolute as the unity of opposites; for this unity is essentially a -negative unity of those opposites, which abrogates their being-another, -their opposition, and leads them back into itself. But with Aristotle -this negativity, this active efficacy, is expressly characterized -as energy; in that it breaks up itself—this independence—abrogating -unity, and positing separation; for, as Aristotle says (Metaph. VII. -13), “actuality separates.” The Platonic Idea, on the other hand, is -rather that abrogation of opposites, where one of the opposites is -itself unity. While, therefore, with Plato the main consideration is -the affirmative principle, the Idea as only abstractly identical with -itself, in Aristotle there is added and made conspicuous the moment of -negativity, not as change, nor yet as nullity, but as difference or -determination. The principle of individualization, not in the sense -of a casual and merely particular subjectivity, but in that of pure -subjectivity, is peculiar to Aristotle. Aristotle thus also makes the -Good, as the universal end, the substantial foundation, and maintains -this position against Heraclitus and the Eleatics. The Becoming of -Heraclitus is a true and real determination, but change yet lacks the -determination of identity with itself, the constancy of the universal. -The stream is ever changing, yet it is nevertheless ever the same, -and is really a universal existence. From this it is at once evident -that Aristotle (Metaph. IV. 3-6) is controverting the opinions of -Heraclitus and others when he says that Being and non-being are not -the same (Vol. I. p. 282), and in connection with this lays down the -celebrated maxim of contradiction, that a man is not at the same -time a ship. This shows at once that Aristotle does not understand -by this pure Being and non-being, this abstraction which is really -only the transition of the one into the other; but by that which is, -he understands Substance, the Idea, Reason, viewed likewise as an -impelling end. As he maintains the universal against the principle of -mere change, he puts forward activity in opposition to the numbers of -the Pythagoreans, and to the Platonic Ideas. However frequently and -fully Aristotle controverts both of these, all his objections turn on -the remark already quoted (Vol. I. p. 213) that activity is not to be -found in these principles, and that to say that real things participate -in Ideas is empty talk, and a poetic metaphor. He says also that Ideas, -as abstract universal determinations, are only as far as numbers go -equal to things, but are not on that account to be pointed out as their -causes. Moreover, he maintains that there are contradictions involved -in taking independent species, since in Socrates, for instance, there -are several ideas included: man, biped, animal (Metaph. I. 7 and 9). -Activity with Aristotle is undoubtedly also change, but change that is -within the universal, and that remains self-identical; consequently -a determination which is self-determination, and therefore the -self-realizing universal end: in mere alteration, on the contrary, -there is not yet involved the preservation of identity in change. This -is the chief point which Aristotle deals with. - -Aristotle distinguishes various moments in substance, in so far as the -moments of activity and potentiality do not appear as one, but still -in separation. The closer determination of this relation of energy to -potentiality, of form to matter, and the movement of this opposition, -gives the different modes of substance. Here Aristotle enumerates the -substances; and to him they appear as a series of different kinds of -substance, which he merely takes into consideration one by one, without -bringing them together into a system. The three following are the chief -among these:— - -_a._ The sensuous perceptible substance is that in which the matter -is still distinguished from the efficient form. Hence this substance -is finite; for the separation and externality of form and matter are -precisely what constitute the nature of the finite. Sensuous substance, -says Aristotle (Metaph. XII. 2), involves change, but in such a way -that it passes over into the opposite; the opposites disappear in one -another, and the third beyond these opposites, that which endures, the -permanent in this change, is matter. Now the leading categories of -change which Aristotle names are the four differences, in regard to -the What (κατὰ τὸ τί), or in regard to quality (ποιόν), or in regard to -quantity (ποσόν), or in regard to place where (ποῦ). The first change -is the origination and decay of simple determinate Being (κατὰ τόδε); -the second change is that of the further qualities (κατὰ τὸ πάθος); the -third, increase and diminution; the fourth, motion. Matter is the dead -substance on which take place the changes which matter passes through. -“The change itself is from potential into actual existence; possible -whiteness transforms itself into actual whiteness. Thus things do not -arise casually out of nothing, but all arises out of what exists, -though it exists only in potentiality, not in actuality.” The possible -is thus really a general implicit existence, which brings about these -determinations, without producing one out of the other. Matter is -thus simple potentiality, which, however, is placed in opposition to -itself, so that a thing in its actuality only becomes that which its -matter was also in potentiality. There are thus three moments posited: -matter, as the general substratum of change, neutral in respect of -what is different (ἐξ οὗ); the opposed determinations of form, which -are negative to each other as that which is to be abrogated and that -which is to be posited (τι and εἴς τι); the first mover (ὑφ̓ οὗ), pure -activity (Metaph. VII. 7; IX. 8; XII. 3).[89] But activity is the -unity of form and matter; how these two are in the other, Aristotle -does not, however, further explain. Thus in sensuous substance there -appears the diversity of the moments, though not as yet their return -into themselves; but activity is the negative which ideally contains in -itself the opposite, therefore that also which is about to be. - -_b._ A higher kind of substance, according to Aristotle (Metaph. IX. -2; VII. 7; XII. 3), is that into which activity enters, which already -contains that which is about to be. This is understanding, absolutely -determined, whose content is the aim which it realizes through its -activity, not merely changing as does the sensuous form. For the soul -is essentially actuality, a general determination which posits itself; -not only formal activity, whose content comes from somewhere else. -But while the active posits its content in reality, this content yet -remains the same; there is an activity present which is different from -matter, although substance and activity are allied. Thus here we still -have a matter which understanding demands as its hypothesis. The two -extremes are matter as potentiality, and thought as efficiency: the -former is the passive universal, and the latter the active universal; -in sensuous substance the active is, on the contrary, still quite -different from matter. In these two moments themselves change does not -take place, for they are the implicit universal in opposed forms. - -_c._ The highest point is, however, that in which potentiality, -activity and actuality are united; the absolute substance which -Aristotle (Metaph. XII. 6, 7; IX. 8), defines in general as being the -absolute (ἀϊδιον), the unmoved, which yet at the same time moves, and -whose essence is pure activity, without having matter. For matter as -such is passive and affected by change, consequently it is not simply -one with the pure activity of this substance. Here as elsewhere we -certainly see an instance of merely denying a predicate, without -saying what its truth is; but matter is nothing else than that moment -of unmoved Being. If in later times it has seemed something new to -define absolute Being as pure activity, we see that this arises -from ignorance as to the Aristotelian conception. But the Schoolmen -rightly looked upon this as the definition of God, since they define -God as _actus purus_; and higher idealism than this there is none. -We may also express this as follows: God is the Substance which -in its potentiality has reality also unseparated from it; therein -potentiality is not distinguished from form, since it produces from -itself the determinations of its content. In this Aristotle breaks -away from Plato, and for this reason controverts number, the Idea, and -the universal, because if this, as inert, is not defined as identical -with activity, there is no movement. Plato’s inert Ideas and numbers -thus bring nothing into reality; but far different is the case with -the Absolute of Aristotle, which in its quiescence is at the same time -absolute activity. - -Aristotle further says on this subject (Metaph. XII. 6): “It may be -that what has potentiality is not real; it is of no avail therefore to -make substances eternal, as the idealists do, if they do not contain a -principle which can effect change. And even this is insufficient, if it -is not active, because in that case there is no change. Yea, even if -it were active, but its substance only a potentiality, there would be -in it no eternal movement, for it is possible that what is according -to potentiality may not exist. We must therefore have a principle -whose substance must be apprehended as activity.” Thus in mind energy -is substance itself. “But here a doubt seems to spring up. For all -that is active seems to be possible, but all that is possible does -not seem to energize, so that potentiality seems to be antecedent,” -for it is the universal. “But if this were the case, no one of the -entities would be in existence, for it is possible that a thing may -possess a capacity of existence, though it has never yet existed. -But energy is higher than potentiality. We must thus not assert, as -theologians would have us do, that in the eternal ages there was first -chaos or night” (matter), “nor must we say with natural philosophers -that everything existed simultaneously. For how could the First be -changed, if nothing in reality were cause? For matter does not move -itself, it is the Master who moves it. Leucippus and Plato accordingly -say that motion has always existed, but they give no reason for the -assertion.” Pure activity is, according to Aristotle (Metaph. IX. 8), -before potentiality, not in relation to time, but to essence. That is -to say, time is a subordinate moment, far removed from the universal; -for the absolute first Being is, as Aristotle says at the end of the -sixth chapter of the twelfth book, “that which in like activity remains -always identical with itself.” In the former assumption of a chaos and -so on, an activity is posited which has to do with something else, not -with itself, and has therefore a pre-supposition; but chaos is only -bare possibility. - -That which moves in itself, and therefore, as Aristotle continues -(Metaph. XII. 7), “that which has circular motion;” is to be posited as -the true Being, “and this is evident not merely from thinking reason, -but also from the fact itself.” From the definition of absolute Being -as imparting motion, as bringing about realization, there follows that -it exists in objectivity in visible nature. As the self-identical -which is visible, this absolute Being is “the eternal heavens.” The -two modes of representing the Absolute are thus thinking reason and -the eternal heavens. The heavens are moved, but they also cause -movement. Since the spherical is thus both mover and moved, there is -a centre-point which causes movement but remains unmoved, and which -is itself at the same time eternal and a substance and energy.[90] -This great definition given by Aristotle of absolute Being as the -circle of reason which returns into itself, is of the same tenor as -modern definitions; the unmoved which causes movement is the Idea which -remains self-identical, which, while it moves, remains in relation to -itself. He explains this as follows: “Its motion is determined in the -following manner. That moves which is desired and thought, whereas -itself it is unmoved, and the original of both is the same.” That is -the end whose content is the desire and thought; such an end is the -Beautiful or the Good. “For the thing that is desired is that which -appears beautiful” (or pleases): “whose first” (or end), “on which the -will is set, is what is beautiful. But it is rather the case that we -desire it because it appears beautiful, than that it appears beautiful -because we desire it.” For if that were so, it would be simply posited -by activity, but it is posited independently, as objective Being, -through which our desire is first awakened. “But thought is the true -principle in this, for thought is moved only by the object of thought. -But the intelligible” (we scarcely believe our eyes) “is essentially -the other co-element (συστοιχία)”[91] namely, that which is posited -as objective, as absolutely existent thought, “and the substance of -this other element is the first; but the first substance is simple -pure activity. Such are the Beautiful and the Good, and the first is -ever the absolutely best or the best possible. But the Notion shows -that the final cause belongs to the unmoved. What is moved may also -subsist in a different manner. Motion (φορά) is the first change; the -first motion, again, is circular motion, but this is due to the above -cause.” Therefore, according to Aristotle, the Notion, _principium -cognoscendi_, is also that which causes movement, _principium essendi_; -he expresses it as God, and shows the relation of God to the individual -consciousness. “The First Cause is necessary. But the term necessary -has three meanings: first what is accomplished by violence, because -it goes contrary to one’s inclination (παρὰ τὴν ὁρμήν); secondly, -that without which the Good does not subsist; thirdly, that which can -exist in no other way than it does, but involves absolute existence. -On such a principle of the unmoved the heavens depend and the whole of -nature”—the visible that is eternal, and the visible that changes. This -system is ever-enduring. “But to us” as individuals, “there is granted, -for a short time only, a sojourn therein of surpassing excellence. For -the system continues ever the same, but for us that is impossible. Now -this activity is in its very self enjoyment, and therefore vigilance, -exercise of the senses, thinking in general, are most productive of -enjoyment; and for the same reason hopes and memories bring pleasure. -But thinking, in its pure essence, is a thinking of that which is -absolutely the most excellent;” the thought is for itself absolute -end. The difference and contradiction in activity and the abrogation -of the same, Aristotle expresses thus: “But thought thinks itself -by participation (μετάληψιν) in that which is thought, but thought -becomes thought by contact and apprehension, so that thought and the -object of thought are the same.” Thought, as being the unmoved which -causes motion, has an object, which, however, becomes transformed into -activity, because its content is itself something thought, _i.e._ a -product of thought, and thus altogether identical with the activity of -thinking. The object of thought is first produced in the activity of -thinking, which in this way separates the thought as an object. Hence, -in thinking, that which is moved and that which moves are the same; -and as the substance of what is thought is thought, what is thought -is the absolute cause which, itself unmoved, is identical with the -thought which is moved by it; the separation and the relation are one -and the same. The chief moment in Aristotle’s philosophy is accordingly -this, that the energy of thinking and the object of thought are the -same; “for thought is that which is receptive of objects of perception -and the existent. When in possession of these it is in a condition -of activity (ἐνεργεῖ δὲ ἔχων); and thus all this” operation by which -it thinks itself, “is more divine than the divine possession which -thinking reason supposes itself to have,”—the content of thought. It -is not the object of thought that is the more excellent, but the very -energy of thinking; the activity of apprehension brings that to pass -which appears as something that is being apprehended. “Speculation -(ἡ θεωρία) is thus the most pleasing and the best. If then God has -eternally subsisted in such surpassing excellence as for a limited time -pertains to us” (in whom this eternal Thought, which is God Himself, -occurs only as a particular condition), “He is worthy of admiration; -if He possesses it in a more eminent degree, His nature is still more -admirable. But this is His mode of subsistence. Life is also inherent -in Him, for the activity of thought is life. But He constitutes this -efficient power; essential energy belongs to God as His most excellent -and eternal life. We therefore say that with God there is life perfect -and everlasting.” From this substance Aristotle moreover excludes -magnitude. - -We in our way of speaking designate the Absolute, the True, as the -unity of subjectivity and objectivity, which is therefore neither the -one nor the other, and yet just as much the one as the other; and -Aristotle busied himself with these same speculations, the deepest -forms of speculation even of the present day, and he has expressed -them with the greatest definiteness. With Aristotle it is thus no -dry identity of the abstract understanding that is indicated, for he -distinguishes subjective and objective precisely and decisively. Not -dead identity such as this, but energy, is for him what is most to -be reverenced, God. Unity is thus a poor, unphilosophic expression, -and true Philosophy is not the system of identity; its principle is -a unity which is activity, movement, repulsion, and thus, in being -different, is at the same time identical with itself. If Aristotle -had made the jejune identity of understanding, or experience, his -principle, he would never have risen to a speculative Idea like this, -wherein individuality and activity are placed higher than universal -potentiality. Thought, as the object of thought, is nothing else than -the absolute Idea regarded as in itself, the Father; yet this First -and unmoved, as distinguished from activity, is, as absolute, simply -activity, and is first through this activity set forth as true. In -what he teaches respecting the soul we shall find Aristotle recurring -to this speculative thought; but to Aristotle it is again an object, -like other objects, a kind of condition which he separates from the -other conditions of the soul which he understands empirically, such as -sleep, or weariness. He does not say that it alone is truth, that all -is summed up in Thought, but he says it is the first, the strongest, -the most honourable. We, on the other hand, say that Thought, as that -which relates to itself, has existence, or is the truth; that Thought -comprehends the whole of Truth, even, though we ordinarily represent -to ourselves sensation and so on, besides thought, as having reality. -Thus, although Aristotle does not express himself in modern philosophic -language, he has yet throughout the same fundamental theory; he speaks -not of a special kind of reason, but of the universal Reason. The -speculative philosophy of Aristotle simply means the direction of -thought on all kinds of objects, thus transforming these into thoughts; -hence, in being thoughts, they exist in truth. The meaning of this is -not, however, that natural objects have thus themselves the power of -thinking, but as they are subjectively thought by me, my thought is -thus also the Notion of the thing, which therefore constitutes its -absolute substance. But in Nature the Notion does not exist explicitly -as thought in this freedom, but has flesh and blood, and is oppressed -by externalities; yet this flesh and blood has a soul, and this is its -Notion. The ordinary definition of truth, according to which it is “the -harmony of the conception with the object,” is certainly not borne out -by the conception; for when I represent to myself a house, a beam, and -so on, I am by no means this content, but something entirely different, -and therefore very far from being in harmony with the object of my -conception. It is only in thought that there is present a true harmony -between objective and subjective; that constitutes me. Aristotle -therefore finds himself at the highest standpoint; nothing deeper can -we desire to know, although he has always the appearance of making -ordinary conceptions his starting-point. - -Aristotle (Metaph. XII. 9) now solves many other doubtful questions, -for instance, whether thought is compound, and whether science is the -object of science itself. “Some further doubts arise as to thought -(νοῦς), which seems to be of all things the most divine; but it is -only with difficulty that we can conceive under what conditions (πῶς -δ̓ ἔχων) it is a thing of this sort. When it thinks of nothing, but is -in a state like that of a sleeper, what constitutes its superiority? -And when it thinks, but something else is dominant all the time (ἄλλο -κύριον), that which is its substance is not thought (νόησις), but -a potentiality;” it would not be in eternal activity. “In this way -it would not be the highest substance; for it is” (active) “thought -(τὸ νοεῖν) that gives it its high rank. If now, further, thought or -thinking is its substance, what does it think? Itself or another? And -if another, is it always the same, or something different? Does it also -not make a difference, whether it thinks of what is beautiful or what -is casual? In the first place, if thought is not thinking, but only -the power to think, continuous thinking would be laborious for it,” -for every power wears itself out. “In the next place, something else -would be more excellent than thought, namely that which is thought -(νοούμενον); and thinking and thought (τὸ νοεῖν καὶ ἡ νόησις) will be -present to the mind in understanding what is most inferior. As this -is to be avoided (in the same way that it is better not to see some -things than to see them), thinking would not constitute the best. -Thought is therefore this, to think itself, because it is the most -excellent; and it is the thinking, which is the thinking of thinking. -For understanding and sensation and opinion and deliberation seem -always to have an object other than themselves, and to be their own -objects only in a secondary sense. Further, if thinking and being -thought of are different, in relation to which of the two is the Good -inherent in thought? For the Notion[92] of thinking and that of the -object of thought are not the same. Or, in the case of some things, -does the science itself constitute that which is the object of science? -In what is practical the thing is the immaterial substance and the -determination of the end (ἡ οὐσία καὶ τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι), and in what is -theoretical it is the reason and the thinking. As therefore thought and -the object of thought are not different, these opposites, so far as -they involve no connection with matter, are the same thing, and there -is only a thought of the thing thought of.” Reason which thinks itself, -is the absolute end or the Good, for it only exists for its own sake. -“There still remains a doubt whether that which thinks is of composite -nature or not; for it might undergo change in the parts of the whole. -But the Good is not in this or that part, for it is the best in the -universe, as distinguished from it. In this way the Thought which is -its own object subsists to all eternity.” - -As this speculative Idea, which is the best and most free, is also to -be seen in nature, and not only in thinking reason, Aristotle (Metaph. -XII. 8) in this connection passes on to the visible God, which is the -heavens. God, as living God, is the universe; and thus in the universe -God, as living God, shows Himself forth. He comes forth as manifesting -Himself or as causing motion, and it is in manifestation alone that -the difference between the cause of motion and that which is moved -comes to pass. “The principle and the first cause of that which is, is -itself unmoved, but brings to pass the original and eternal and single -motion,” that is, the heaven of the fixed stars. “We see that besides -the simple revolution of the universe, which is brought about by the -first unmoved substance, there are other eternal motions, those of the -planets.” We must not, however, enter into further details on this -subject. - -Regarding the organization of the universe in general, Aristotle says -(Metaph. XII. 10), “We must investigate in what manner the nature of -the whole has within it the Good and the Best; whether as something set -apart and absolute, or as an order, or in both ways, as in the case -of an army. For the good condition of an army depends upon the order -enforced, as much as on the general, and the general is the cause of -the army’s good condition in all the greater degree from the fact of -the order being through him, and not from his being through the order. -All things are co-ordinated in a certain way, but not all in the same -way: take, for example, animals which swim, and those which fly, and -plants; they are not so constituted that one of them is not related to -another, but they stand in mutual relations. For all are co-ordinated -into one system just as in a house it is by no means permitted to the -free inmates to do freely whatever they like, but all that they do, or -the most of it, is done according to orderly arrangement. By slaves and -animals, on the contrary, little is done for the general good, but they -do much that is casual. For the principle of each is his own nature. -In the same way it is necessary that all should attain to a position -where distinction is drawn” (the seat of judgment) “but there are some -things so constituted that all participate in them for the formation -of a whole.” Aristotle then goes on to refute some other notions; -showing, for instance, the embarrassments into which they fall who make -all things proceed from oppositions, and he corroborates, on the other -hand, the unity of the principle by quoting Homer’s line (Iliad II. -204): - - “It is not good that many govern; let one alone bear rule.” - - -2. PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE. - -Amongst the special sciences treated by Aristotle, the Physics is -contained in a whole series of physical treatises, which form a -tolerably complete system of what constitutes the Philosophy of -Nature in its whole extent. We shall try to give their general plan. -Aristotle’s first work is his Treatise, in eight books, on Physics, or -on the Principles (φυσικὴ ἀκρόασις ἢ περὶ ἀρχῶν). In this he deals, -as is fitting, with the doctrine of the Notion of nature generally, -with movement, and with space and time. The first manifestation of -absolute substance is movement, and its moments are space and time; -this conception of its manifestation is the universal, which realizes -itself first in the corporeal world, passing into the principle of -separation. Aristotle’s Physics is what for present physicists would, -properly speaking, be the Metaphysics of Nature; for our physicists -only say what they have seen, what delicate and excellent instruments -they have made, and not what they have thought. This first work by -Aristotle is followed by his treatises concerning the Heavens, which -deal with the nature of body and the first real bodies, the earth and -heavenly bodies in general, as also with the general abstract relation -of bodies to one another through mechanical weight and lightness, or -what we should call attraction; and finally, with the determination -of abstract real bodies or elements. Then follow the treatises on -Production and Destruction, the physical process of change, while -formerly the ideal process of movement was considered. Besides the -physical elements, moments which are only posited in process, as such, -now enter in: for instance, warmth, cold, &c. Those elements are the -real existent facts, while these determinations are the moments of -becoming or of passing away, which exist only in movement. Then comes -the Meteorology; it represents the universal physical process in its -most real forms. Here particular determinations appear, such as rain, -the saltness of the sea, clouds, dew, hail, snow, hoar-frost, winds, -rainbows, boiling, cooking, roasting, colours, &c. On certain matters, -such as the colours, Aristotle wrote particular treatises. Nothing is -forgotten, and yet the presentation is, on the whole, empiric. The book -On the Universe, which forms the conclusion, is said not to be genuine; -it is a separate dissertation, addressed to Alexander, which contains -in part the doctrine of the universality of things, a doctrine found -already in the other treatises; hence this book does not belong to this -series. - -From this point Aristotle proceeds to organic nature, and here his -works not only contain a natural history, but also a physiology and -anatomy. To the anatomy pertain his works on the Locomotion of Animals, -and on the Parts of Animals. He deals with physiology in the works -on the Generation of Animals, on the common Movement of Animals; and -then he comes to the distinction between Youth and Age, Sleeping and -Waking, and treats of Breathing, Dreaming, the Shortness and Length -of Life, &c., all of which he deals with partly in an empiric, -and partly in a more speculative manner. Finally, there comes the -History of Animals, not merely as a history of Nature, but also as -the history of the animal in its entirety—what we may call a kind of -physiologico-anatomical anatomy. There is likewise a botanical work On -Plants (περὶ φυτῶν) which is ascribed to him. Thus we here find natural -philosophy in the whole extent of its outward content. - -As regards this plan, there is no question that this is not the -necessary order in which natural philosophy or physics must be treated. -It is long since physics adopted in its conception the form and -tendency derived from Aristotle, of deducing the parts of the science -from the whole; and thus even what is not speculative still retains -this connection as far as outward order goes. This is plainly to be -preferred to the arrangement in our modern text-books, which is a -wholly irrational succession of doctrines accidentally put together, -and is undoubtedly more suitable to that method of contemplating -nature, which grasps the sensuous manifestation of nature quite -irrespective of sense or reason. Physics before this contained some -metaphysics, but the experience which was met with in endeavouring -unsuccessfully to work it out, determined the physicists, so far as -possible, to keep it at a distance, and to devote their attention to -what they call experience, for they think that here they come across -genuine truth, unspoiled by thought, fresh from the hand of nature; -it is in their hands and before their faces. They can certainly not -dispense with the Notion, but through a kind of tacit agreement they -allow certain conceptions, such as forces, subsistence in parts, &c., -to be valid, and make use of these without in the least knowing whether -they have truth and how they have truth. But in regard to the content -they express no better the truth of things, but only the sensuous -manifestation. Aristotle and the ancients understand by physics, on the -other hand, the comprehension of nature—the universal; and for this -reason Aristotle also calls it the doctrine of principles. For in the -manifestation of nature this distinction between the principle and what -follows it, manifestation, really commences, and it is abrogated only -in genuine speculation. Yet if, on the one hand, what is physical in -Aristotle is mainly philosophic and not experimental, he yet proceeded -in his Physics in what may be called an empiric way. Thus, as it has -been already remarked of the Aristotelian philosophy in general that -the different parts fall into a series of independently determined -conceptions, so we find that this is the case here also; hence an -account can only be given of a part of them. One part is not universal -enough to embrace the other part, for each is independent. But that -which follows, and which has in great measure reference to what is -individual, no longer comes under the dominion of the Notion, but -becomes a superficial suggestion of reasons, and an explanation from -the proximate causes, such as we find in our physics. - -In regard to the general conception of nature, we must say that -Aristotle represents it in the highest and truest manner. For in -the Idea of nature Aristotle (Phys. II. 8) really relies on two -determinations: the conception of end and the conception of necessity. -Aristotle at once grasps the whole matter in its principles, and this -constitutes the old contradiction and divergence of view existing -between necessity (_causæ efficientes_) and end (_causæ finales_), -which we have inherited. The first mode of consideration is that in -accordance with external necessity, which is the same as chance—the -conception that all that pertains to nature is determined from without -by means of natural causes. The other mode of consideration is the -teleological, but conformity to end is either inward or outward, and -in the more recent culture the latter has long retained the supremacy. -Thus men vibrate in their opinion between these two points of view, -seek external causes, and war against the form of an external teleology -which places the end outside of nature. These determinations were -known to Aristotle, and he thoroughly investigates them and considers -what they are and mean. Aristotle’s conception of nature is, however, -nobler than that of to-day, for with him the principal point is the -determination of end as the inward determinateness of natural things. -Thus he comprehended nature as life, _i.e._ as that which has its -end within itself, is unity with itself, which does not pass into -another, but, through this principle of activity, determines changes -in conformity with its own content, and in this way maintains itself -therein. In this doctrine Aristotle has before his eyes the inward -immanent end, to which he considers necessity an external condition. -Thus, on the one hand, Aristotle determines nature as the final cause, -which is to be distinguished from what is luck or chance; it is thus -opposed by him to what is necessary, which it also contains within -itself; and then he considers how necessity is present in natural -things. In nature we usually think of necessity first, and understand -as the essentially natural that which is not determined through end. -For long men thought that they determined nature both philosophically -and truly in limiting it to necessity. But the aspect of nature has -had a stigma removed from it, because, by means of its conformity to -the end in view, it is elevated above the commonplace. The two moments -which we have considered in substance, the active form and matter, -correspond with these two determinations. - -We must first consider the conception of adaptation to end as the -ideal moment in substance. Aristotle begins (Phys. II. 8) with the -fact that the natural is the self-maintaining, all that is difficult -is its comprehension. “The first cause of perplexity is, what hinders -nature from not operating for the sake of an end, and because it is -better so to operate, but” being, for example, “like Jupiter, who -rains, not that the corn may grow, but from necessity. The vapour -driven upwards cools, and the water resulting from this cooling falls -as rain, and it happens that the corn is thereby made to grow. In like -manner, if the corn of any one is destroyed, it does not rain for the -sake of this destruction, but this is an accidental circumstance.” -That is to say, there is a necessary connection which, however, is an -external relation, and this is the contingency of the cause as well -as of the effect. “But if this be so,” Aristotle asks, “what hinders -us from assuming that what appears as parts” (the parts of an animal, -for instance) “may thus subsist in nature, too, as contingent? That, -for example, the front teeth are sharp and adapted for dividing, -and that the back teeth, on the contrary, are broad and adapted for -grinding the food in pieces, may be an accidental circumstance, not -necessarily brought about for these particular ends. And the same is -true with respect to the other parts of the body which appear to be -adapted for some end; therefore those living things in which all was -accidentally constituted as if for some end, are now, having once been -so existent, preserved, although originally they had arisen by chance, -in accordance with external necessity.” Aristotle adds that Empedocles -especially had these reflections, and represented the first beginnings -of things as a world composed of all sorts of monstrosities, such as -bulls with human heads; such, however, could not continue to subsist, -but disappeared because they were not originally constituted so that -they should endure; and this went on until what was in conformity with -purpose came together. Without going back to the fabulous monstrosities -of the ancients, we likewise know of a number of animal tribes which -have died out, just because they could not preserve the race. Thus -we also require to use the expression development (an unthinking -evolution), in our present-day natural philosophy. The conception that -the first productions were, so to speak, attempts, of which those which -did not show themselves to be suitable could not endure, is easily -arrived at by natural philosophy. But nature, as _entelecheia_ or -realization, is what brings forth itself. Aristotle hence replies: “It -is impossible to believe this. For what is produced in accordance with -nature is always, or at least for the most part, produced” (external -universality as the constant recurrence of what has passed away), “but -this is not so with what happens through fortune or through chance. -That in which there is an end (τέλος), equally in its character as -something which precedes and as something which follows, is made into -end; as therefore a thing is made, so is its nature, and as is its -nature, so is it made; it exists therefore for the sake of this.” The -meaning of nature is that as something is, it was in the beginning; -it means this inward universality and adaptation to end that realizes -itself; and thus cause and effect are identical, since all individual -parts are related to this unity of end. “He who assumes contingent and -accidental forms, subverts, on the other hand, both nature itself and -that which subsists from nature, for that subsists from nature which -has a principle within itself, by whose means, and being continually -moved, it attains its end.” In this expression of Aristotle’s we now -find the whole of the true profound Notion of life, which must be -considered as an end in itself—a self-identity that independently -impels itself on, and in its manifestation remains identical with -its Notion: thus it is the self-effectuating Idea. Leaves, blossoms, -roots thus bring the plant into evidence and go back into it; and that -which they bring to pass is already present in the seed from which -they took their origin. The chemical product, on the contrary, does -not appear to have itself similarly present, for from acid and base a -third appears to come forth; but here, likewise, the essence of both -these sides, their relationship, is already present, though it is -there mere potentiality, as it is in the product merely a thing. But -the self-maintaining activity of life really brings forth this unity -in all relationships. What has here been said is already contained in -that which was asserted by those who do not represent nature in this -way, but say, “that which is constituted as though it were constituted -for an end, will endure.” For this is the self-productive action of -nature. In the modern way of looking at life this conception becomes -lost in two different ways; either through a mechanical philosophy, -in which we always find as principle pressure, impulse, chemical -relationships and forces, or external relations generally—which -certainly seem to be inherent in nature, but not to proceed from the -nature of the body, seeing that they are an added, foreign appendage, -such as colour in a fluid; or else theological physics maintain the -thoughts of an understanding outside of the world to be the causes. -In the Kantian philosophy we for the first time have that conception -once more awakened in us, for organic nature at least; life has there -been made an end to itself. In Kant this indeed had only the subjective -form which constitutes the essence of the Kantian philosophy, in which -it seems as though life were only so determined by reason of our -subjective reasoning; but still the whole truth is there contained -that the organic creation is the self-maintaining. The fact that most -recent times have brought back the rational view of the matter into our -remembrance, is thus none else than a justification of the Aristotelian -Idea. - -Aristotle also speaks of the end which is represented by organic nature -in itself, in relation to the means, of which he says (Phys. II. 8): -“If the swallow builds her nest, and the spider spreads her web, and -trees root themselves in the earth, for the sake of nutriment, there -is present in them a self-maintaining cause of this kind, or an end.” -For this instinctive action exhibits an operation of self-preservation, -as a means whereby natural existence becomes shut up and reflected -into itself. Aristotle then brings what is here said into relation -with general conceptions which he had earlier maintained (p. 138): -“Since nature is twofold as matter and form, but since the latter is -end, and the rest are on account of the end, this is final cause.” -For the active form has a content, which, as content of potentiality, -contains the means which make their appearance as adapted for an end, -_i.e._ as moments established through the determinate Notion. However -much we may, in the modern way of regarding things, struggle against -the idea of an immanent end, from reluctance to accept it, we must, in -the case of animals and plants, acknowledge such a conception, always -re-establishing itself in another. For example, because the animal -lives in water or in air, it is so constructed that it can maintain -its existence in air or water; thus it requires water to explain the -gills of fishes; and, on the other hand, because the animal is so -constructed, it lives in water. This activity in transformation thus -does not depend in a contingent way on life; it is aroused through the -outward powers, but only in as far as conformity with the soul of the -animal permits. - -In passing, Aristotle here (Phys. II. 8) makes a comparison between -nature and art, which also connects what results with what goes -before, in accordance with ends. “Nature may commit an error as well -as art; for as a grammarian sometimes makes a mistake in writing, and -a physician in mixing a medicinal draught, nature, too, sometimes does -not attain its ends. Its errors are monstrosities and deformities, -which, however, are only the errors of that which operates for an -end. In the production of animals and plants, an animal is not at -first produced, but the seed, and even in it corruption is possible.” -For the seed is the mean, as being the not as yet established, -independent, indifferent, free actuality. In this comparison of nature -with art we ordinarily have before us the external adaptation to end, -the teleological point of view, the making for definite ends. And -Aristotle declaims against this, while he remarks that if nature is -activity for a certain end, or if it is the implicitly universal, “it -is absurd to deny that action is in conformity with end, because that -which moves cannot be seen to have deliberated and considered.” The -understanding comes forward with the determination of this end, and -with its instruments and tools, to operate on matter, and we carry -this conception of an external teleology over into nature. “But art -also,” says Aristotle, “does not deliberate. If the form of a ship -were the particular inward principle of the timber, it would act as -nature prompted. The action of nature is very similar to the exercise -of the art whereby anyone heals himself.” Through an inward instinct -the animal avoids what is evil, and does what is good for him; health -is thus essentially present to him, not as a conscious end, but as an -understanding which accomplishes its ends without conscious thought. - -As Aristotle has hitherto combated an external teleology, he directs -another equally applicable remark (Phys. II. 9) against merely external -necessity, and thus we come to the other side, or to how necessity -exists in nature. He says in this regard: “Men fancy that necessity -exists in this way in generation, just as if it were thought that a -house existed from necessity, because heavy things were naturally -carried downwards, and light things upwards, and that, therefore, the -stones and foundation, on account of their weight, were under the -earth, and the earth, because it was lighter, was further up, and the -wood in the highest place because it is the lightest.” But Aristotle -thus explains the facts of the case. “The house is certainly not made -without these materials, but not on account of, or through them (unless -the material so demands), but it is made for the sake of concealing and -preserving certain things. The same takes place in everything which -has an end in itself; for it is not without that which is necessary to -its nature, and yet it is not on account of this, unless the matter -so demands, but on account of an end. Hence the necessary is from -hypothesis only, and not as end, for necessity is in matter, but end -is in reason (λόγῳ). Thus it is clear that matter and its movement are -necessity in natural things; both have to be set forth as principle, -but end is the higher principle.” It undoubtedly requires necessity, -but it retains it in its own power, does not allow it to give vent -to itself, but controls external necessity. The principle of matter -is thus turned into the truly active ground of end, which means the -overthrow of necessity, so that that which is natural shall maintain -itself in the end. Necessity is the objective manifestation of the -action of its moments as separated, just as in chemistry the essential -reality of both the extremes—the base and the acid—is the necessity of -their relation. - -This is the main conception of Aristotelian Physics. Its further -development concerns the conceptions of the different objects of -nature, a material for speculative philosophy which we have spoken -of above (pp. 153-155), and regarding which Aristotle puts before us -reflections both difficult and profound. Thus he at first (Phys. III. -1-3) proceeds from this point to movement (κίνησις), and says that it -is essential that a philosophy of nature should speak of it, but that -it is difficult to grasp; in fact, it is one of the most difficult -conceptions. Aristotle thus sets to work to understand movement in -general, not merely in space and time, but also in its reality; and -in this sense he calls it “the activity of an existent thing which -is in capacity, so far as it is in capacity.” He explains this thus: -“Brass is in capacity a statue; yet the motion to become a statue -is not a motion of the brass so far as it is brass, but a motion of -itself, as the capacity to become a statue. Hence this activity is -an imperfect one (ἀτελής),” _i.e._ it has not its end within itself, -“for mere capacity, whose activity is movement, is imperfect.” The -absolute substance, the moving immovable, the existent ground of -heaven which we saw as end, is, on the contrary, both activity itself -and the content and object of activity. But Aristotle distinguishes -from this what falls under the form of this opposition, “That moving -is also moved which has movement as a capacity, and whose immobility -is rest. That in which movement is present has immobility as rest; -for activity in rest, as such, is movement.” That is to say, rest is -capacity for motion. “Hence movement is the activity of that which is -movable (κινητοῦ),[93] so far as it is movable; but this happens from -the contact of that which is motive (κινητικοῦ), so that at the same -time it is posited as passive likewise. But that which moves always -introduces a certain form or end (εἶδος), either this particular thing -(τόδε), or a quality or a quantity, which is the principle and cause of -the motion when it moves; thus man, as he is in energy, makes man from -man as he is in capacity. Thus, too, it is evident that movement is in -the movable thing: for it is the activity of this, and is derived from -that which is motive. The activity of that which is motive is likewise -not different, for both are necessarily activity. It is motive because -it has the capacity for being so; but it causes motion because it -energizes. But it is the energetic of the moveable (ἔστιν ἐνεργητικὸν -τοῦ κινετοῦ), so that there is one energy of both; just as the relation -between one and two is the same as that between two and one, and there -also is the same relation between acclivity and declivity, so the way -from Thebes to Athens is the same as from Athens to Thebes. Activity -and passivity are not originally (κυρίως) the same, but in what they -are inherent, in motion, they are the same. In Being (τῷ εἶναι) they -are identical, but activity, in so far as it is activity of this in -this” (what is moved), “and the activity of this from this” (what -moves), “is different as regards its conception (τῷ λόγῳ).” Aristotle -subsequently deals with the infinite (Phys. III. 4-8). - -“In like manner it is necessary,” says Aristotle (Phys. IV. 1-5), “that -the natural philosopher should consider the subject of place (τόπος).” -Here come various definitions and determinations under which space -generally and particular space or place appear. “Is place a body? It -cannot be a body, for then there would be in one and the same, two -bodies. Again, if it is the place and receptacle (χώρα) of this body, -it is evident that it is so also of the superficies and the remaining -boundaries; but the same reasoning applies to these, for where the -superficies of water were before, there will now be the superficies -of air,” and thus the places of both superficies would be in one. -“But in truth there is no difference between the point and the place -of the point, so that if place is not different from the other forms -of limitation, neither is it something outside of them. It is not an -element, and neither consists of corporeal nor of incorporeal elements, -for it possesses magnitude, but not body. The elements of bodies -are, however, themselves bodies, and no magnitude is produced from -intelligible elements. Place is not the material of things, for nothing -consists of it—neither the form, nor the Notion, nor the end, nor the -moving cause; and yet it is something.” Aristotle now determines place -as the first unmoved limit of that which is the comprehending: it -comprehends the body whose place it is, and has nothing of the thing -in itself; yet it co-exists with the thing, because the limits and -the limited co-exist. The uttermost ends of what comprehends and of -what is comprehended are identical, for both are bounds; but they are -not bounds of the same, for form is the boundary of the thing, place -is that of the embracing body. Place, as the comprehending, remains -unchangeably passive while the thing which is moved is moved away; from -which we see that place must be separable from the thing. Or place, -according to Aristotle, is the boundary, the negation of a body, the -assertion of difference, of discretion; but it likewise does not merely -belong to this body, but also to that which comprehends. There is thus -no difference at all, but unchangeable continuity. “Place is neither -the universal (κοινός) in which all bodies are” (heaven), “nor the -particular (ἴδιος), in which they are as the first (πρώτῳ).” Aristotle -also speaks of above and below in space, in relation to heaven as that -which contains, and earth as what is beneath. “That body, outside of -which is a comprehending body, is in space. But the whole heavens are -not anywhere, since no body comprehends them. Outside the universe -nothing is, and hence everything is in the heavens, for the heavens -are the whole. Place, however, is not the heavens, but its external -quiescent boundary which touches the body moved. Hence the earth is in -water, water in air, air in ether, but ether in the heavens.” - -From this point Aristotle goes on (Phys. IV. 6, 7) to empty space, in -which an old question is involved which physicists even now cannot -explain: they could do so if they studied Aristotle, but as far as they -are concerned there might have been no thought nor Aristotle in the -world. “Vacuum, according to ordinary ideas, is a space in which there -is no body, and, fancying that all Being is body, they say that vacuum -is that in which there is nothing at all. The conception of a vacuum -has its justification for one thing in the fact that a vacuum,” the -negative to an existent form, “is essential to motion; for a body could -not move in a plenum,” and in the place to which it does move there -must be nothing. “The other argument in favour of a vacuum is found -in the compression of bodies, in which the parts press into the empty -spaces.” This is the conception of varying density and the alteration -of the same, in accordance with which an equal weight might consist -of an equal number of parts, but these, as being separated by vacuum, -might present a greater volume. Aristotle confutes these reasonings -most adroitly, and first of all in this way; “The plenum could be -changed, and bodies could yield to one another even if no interval of -vacuum separated them. Liquids as well as solids are not condensed into -a vacuum; something that they contained is expelled, just as air is -expelled if water is compressed.” - -Aristotle deals more thoroughly, in the first place (Phys. IV. 8), with -the erroneous conception that the vacuum is the cause of movement. -For, on the one hand, he shows that the vacuum really abolishes -motion, and consequently in vacuum a universal rest would reign. He -calls it perfect indifference as to the greater or less distance to -which a thing is moved; in vacuum there are no distinctions. It is -pure negation without object or difference; there is no reason for -standing still or going on. But body is in movement, and that, indeed, -as distinguished; it has a positive relation, and not one merely to -nothing. On the other hand, Aristotle refutes the idea that movement -is in vacuum because compression is possible. But this does not happen -in a vacuum; there would be established in it not one movement, but -a movement towards all sides, a general annihilation, an absolute -yielding, where no cohesion would remain in the body. “Again, a weight -or a body is borne along more swiftly or more slowly from two causes; -either because there is a difference in that through which it is borne -along, as when it moves through air or water or earth, or because that -which is borne along differs through excess of weight or lightness.” As -regards difference of movement on account of the first difference—that -in the density of the medium—Aristotle says: “The medium through which -the body is borne along is the cause of the resistance encountered, -which is greater if the medium is moving in a contrary direction (and -less if it is at rest); resistance is increased also if the medium is -not easily divided. The difference in velocity is in inverse ratio to -the specific gravity of the medium, air and water, so that if the -medium has only half the density, the rate of progress will be double -as quick. But vacuum has to body no such relation of differences -of specific gravity. Body can no more contain a vacuum within its -dimensions than a line can contain a point, unless the line were -composed of points. The vacuum has no ratio to the plenum.” But as to -the other case, the difference in weight and lightness, which has to -be considered as being in bodies themselves, whereby one moves more -quickly than another through the same space: “this distinction exists -only in the plenum, for the heavy body, by reason of its power, divides -the plenum more quickly.” This point of view is quite correct, and it -is mainly directed against a number of conceptions that prevail in our -physics. The conception of equal movement of the heavy and the light, -as that of pure weight, pure matter, is an abstraction, being taken as -though they were inherently like, only differing through the accidental -resistance of the air. - -Aristotle (Phys. IV. 9) now comes to the second point, to the proof of -the vacuum because of the difference in specific gravity. “Many believe -that the vacuum exists because of the rare and the dense;” the former -is said to be a rare body, and the latter a perfect continuity; or -they at least differ quantitatively from one another through greater -or less density. “For if air should be generated from a quantity of -water, a given quantity of water must produce a quantity of air the -same in bulk, or there must necessarily be a vacuum; for it is only -on the hypothesis of a vacuum that compression and rarefaction are -explicable. Now if, as they say, the less dense were that which has -many separate void spaces, it is evident that since a vacuum cannot -be separated any more than a space can have intervals, neither can -the rare subsist in this manner. But if it is not separable, and yet -a vacuum is said to exist in the body, in the first place movement -could thus only be upwards; for the rare is the light, and hence they -say that fire is rare,” because it always moves upwards. “In the -next place the vacuum cannot be the cause of motion as that in which -something moves, but must resemble bladders that carry up that which -adheres to them. But how is it possible that a vacuum can move, or that -there can be a place where there is a vacuum? For that into which it -is carried would be the vacuum of a vacuum. In short, as there can be -no movement in vacuum, so also a vacuum cannot move.” Aristotle set -against these ideas the true state of matters, and states generally the -ideal conception of nature: “that the opposites, hot and cold, and the -other physical contraries, have one and the same matter, and that from -what is in capacity that which is in energy is produced; that matter -is not separable though it is different in essence[94] (τῷ εἶναι), -and that it remains one and the same in number (ἀριθμῷ) even if it -possesses colour, or is hot and cold. And again, the matter of a small -body and a large is the same, because at one time a greater proceeds -from a smaller, and at another time a smaller from a greater. If air is -generated from water it is expanded, but the matter remains the same -and without taking to itself anything else; for that which it was in -capacity it becomes in actuality. In a similar way if air is compressed -from a greater into a less volume, the process will be reversed, and -air will similarly pass into water, because the matter which is in -capacity both air and water, also becomes both.” Aristotle likewise -asserts that increase and decrease of warmth, and its transition into -cold, is no addition or otherwise of warm matter, and also one and the -same is both dense and rare. This is very different from the physical -conceptions which assert more or less matter to correspond with more -or less density, thus comprehending the difference in specific weight -as the external addition of matter. Aristotle, on the contrary, takes -this dynamically, though certainly not in the sense in which dynamics -are to-day understood, viz. as an increase of intensity or as a -degree, for he accepts intensity in its truth as universal capacity. -Undoubtedly the difference must also be taken as a difference in -amount, but not as an increase and decrease, or as an alteration in the -absolute quantity of the matter. For here intensity means force, but -again not as being a thing of thought separated from matter, but as -indicating that if anything has become more intensive, it has had its -actuality diminished, having, however, according to Aristotle, attained -to a greater capacity. If the intensity is again directed outwards, -and compared with other things, it undoubtedly becomes degree, and -therefore magnitude immediately enters in. It then is indifferent -whether greater intension or greater extension is posited; more air is -capable of being warmed to the same degree as less, through the greater -intensity of the warmth; or the same air can thereby become intensively -warmer. - -As regards the investigation of time, Aristotle remarks (Phys. IV. -10, 11, 13) that if time is externally (exoterically, ἐξωτερικῶς) -regarded, we are inevitably led to doubt (διαπορῆσαι) whether it has -any being whatever, or whether it has bare existence, as feeble (μόλις -καὶ ἀμυδρῶς) as if it were only a potentiality. “For one part of it -was and is not: another part will be and is not as yet; but of these -parts infinite and everlasting (ἀεὶ λαμβανόμενος), time is composed. -But it now appears that time, if composed of things that are not, may -be incapable of existence. And also as regards everything divisible, if -it exists, either some or all of its parts must be. Time is certainly -divisible; but some of the parts are past, others are future, and no -part is present. For the _now_ is no part, since a part has a measure, -and the whole must consist of the parts; but time does not appear to -consist of the Now.” That is to say, because the Now is indivisible, -it has no quantitative determination which could be measured. “Besides -it is not easy to decide whether the Now remains, or always becomes -another and another. Again, time is not a movement and change, for -movement and change occur in that which is moved and changed, or -accompany time in its course; but time is everywhere alike. Besides -change is swifter and slower, but time is not. But it is not without -change and motion” (which is just the moment of pure negativity in the -same) “for when we perceive no change, it appears as if no time had -elapsed, as in sleep. Time is hence in motion but not motion itself.” -Aristotle defines it thus: “We say that time is, when we perceive the -before and after in movement; but these are so distinguished that we -apprehend them to be another and another, and conceive that there -is something between, as a middle. Now when we understand that the -extremes of the conclusion are different from the middle, and the -soul says that the Now has two instants, the one prior and the other -posterior, then we say that this is time. What is determined through -the Now, we call time, and this is the fundamental principle. But when -we are sensible of the Now as one, and not as a prior and posterior in -motion, nor as the identity of an earlier or later, then there does -not appear to us to have been any time, because neither was there -any motion.” Tedium is thus ever the same. “Time is hence the number -of motion, according to priority and posteriority; it is not motion -itself, unless so far as motion has number. We judge of the more or -less through number, but of a greater or less motion by time. But we -call number that which can be numbered, as well as that with which -we number; but time is not the number with which we number, but that -which is numbered, and, like motion, always is changing. The Now is, -which is the unity of number, and it measures time. The whole of time -is the same, for the Now which was is the same” (universality as the -Now destroyed) “but in Being it is another. Time thus is through the -Now both continuous (συνεχής) and discrete (διῇρηται). It thereby -resembles the point, for that also is the continuity of the line and -its division, its principle and limit; but the Now is not an enduring -point. As continuity of time the Now connects the past and the future, -but it likewise divides time in capacity,” the Now is only divisibility -and the moments only ideal. “And in as far as it is such, it is always -another; but, in as far as it unites, it is ever one and the same. -Similarly, in as far as we divide the line, other and yet other points -always arise for thought; but in as far as it is one, there is only -one point. Thus the Now is both the division of time in capacity, and -the limit and union of both” _i.e._ of the prior and posterior. The -universally dividing point is only one as actual; but this actual is -not permanently one, but ever and again another, so that individuality -has universality, as its negativity, within it. “But division and -union are the same, and similarly related; however their Notion (τὸ -εἶναι)[95] is different.” In one and the same respect the absolute -opposite of what was posited is immediately set forth as existent; in -space, on the other hand, the moments are not set forth as existent, -but in it first appears this being and its motion and contradiction. -Thus the identity of the understanding is not a principle with -Aristotle, for identity and non-identity to him are one and the same. -Because the Now is only now, past and future are different from it, -but they are likewise necessarily connected in the Now, which is not -without before and after; thus they are in one, and the Now, as their -limit, is both their union and their division. - -Aristotle (Phys. V. 1) then goes on to movement as realized in a thing, -to change (μεταβολή) or to the physical processes—while before we had -pure movement. “In movement there is first something which moves, also -something which is moved, and the time in which it is moved; besides -these, that from which, and that into which it is moved.” (Cf. _supra_, -p. 141.) “For all motion is from something and into something; but -there is a difference between that which is first moved and that into -which and from which it is moved, as, for instance, wood, warmth and -cold. The motion is in the wood and not in the form; for neither form -nor place, nor quantity moves or is moved, but” (in the order in which -they follow) “there is that which is moved and that which moves, and -that into which it is moved. That to which movement is made, more than -that out of which movement is made, is named change. Hence to pass -into non-being is also change, although what passes away is changed -from Being: and generation is a mutation into Being, even though it -is from non-being.” The remark is to be interpreted as meaning that -for the first time in real becoming motion, _i.e._ in change, the -relation _whereto_ enters, while the relation _wherefrom_ is that in -which change is still the mere ideal motion. Besides this first form of -difference between motion and change, Aristotle further gives another, -since he divides change into three: “into change from a subject (ἐξ -ὑποκειμένον) into a subject; or from a subject into a non-subject; or -from a non-subject into a subject.” The fourth, “from a non-subject -into a non-subject,” which may also appear in the general division, “is -no mutation, for it contains no opposition.” It may certainly be merely -thought or ideal, but Aristotle indicates the actual phenomenon. “The -mutation from a non-subject into a subject is generation (γένεσις); -that from a subject into a non-subject is corruption (φθορά); that -from a subject into a subject, is motion as such;” because that which -is transformed remains the same, there is no becoming-another of -the actual, but a merely formal becoming-another. This opposition of -the materialized motion as mutation, and of merely formal motion, is -noteworthy. - -In the sixth book Aristotle comes to the consideration of the dialectic -of this motion and change as advanced by Zeno, that is, to the endless -divisibility which we have already (Vol. I. pp. 266-277) considered. -Aristotle solves it through the universal. He says that they are the -contradiction of the universal turned against itself; the unity in -which its moments dissolve is not a nothing, so that motion and change -are nothing, but a negative universal, where the negative is itself -again posited as positive, and that is the essence of divisibility. - -Of the further details into which Aristotle enters, I shall only give -the following. As against atoms and their motion, he remarks (Phys. -VI. 10) that the indivisible has no motion and mutation, which is the -direct opposite of the proposition of Zeno that only simple indivisible -Being and no motion exists. For as Zeno argues from the indivisibility -of atoms against motion, Aristotle argues from motion against atoms. -“Everything which moves or changes is in the first division of this -time partly here and partly there. The atom, as simple indivisible -Being, can, however, not have any part of it in both points in space, -because it then would be divisible. The indivisible could thus only -move if time consisted of the Now; this is, however, impossible, as we -proved before.” Because atoms thus neither have change in themselves, -nor can this come to them from without through impulse, &c., they are -really without truth. - -The determination of the pure ideality of change is important. -Aristotle says of this (Phys. VII. 3), “That which is changed is alone -the sensuous and perceptible (αἰσθητόν); and forms and figures, as also -capacities, are not changed, they arise and disappear in a thing only, -without being themselves changed.” In other words: the content of -change is unchangeable; change as such belongs to mere form. “Virtues -or vices belong, for example, to habits acquired. Virtue is the -perfection (τελείωσις) in which something has reached the end of its -nature. Vice, however, is the corruption and non-attainment of this. -They are not changes, for they only arise and pass away while another -alters.” Or the difference becomes a difference of Being and non-being, -_i.e._ a merely sensuous difference. - -From these conceptions Aristotle now comes nearer to the first real -or physical motion (Phys. VIII. 6, 8, 9; De C\nlo, I. 4): The first -principle of motion is itself unmoved. An endless motion in a straight -line is an empty creation of thought; for motion is necessarily an -effort after something. The absolute motion is the circular, because -it is without opposition. For because movement has to be considered -in regard to the starting-place and the end in view, in the straight -movement the directions from A to B and from B to A are opposed, but -in motion in a circle they are the same. The idea that heavenly bodies -would of themselves have moved in a straight line, but that they -accidentally came into the sphere of solar attraction, is an empty -reflection which is far from occurring to Aristotle. - -Aristotle then shows (De C\nlo, II. I; I. 3) that “the whole heavens -neither arose nor can pass away, for they are one and eternal: they -neither have beginning nor end in eternal time, for they contain -infinite time shut up within them.” All the other ideas are sensuous -which try to speak of essential reality, and in them there always -is that present which they think they have excluded. For when they -assert a vacuum before the beginning of generation, this is the -quiescent, self-identical, _i.e._ the eternal matter, which is thus -already established before origination; they will not allow that -before origination nothing exists. But in fact a thing does not exist -before its origination, _i.e._ in movement there is something to move, -and where reality is, there is motion. They do not, however, bring -together that vacuum, the self-identical, the un-originated matter -and this nothing. “That which has this absolute circular movement is -neither heavy nor light; for the heavy is what moves downwards, and the -light what moves upwards.” In modern physics the heavenly bodies, on -the other hand, are endowed with weight, and seek to rush into the sun, -but cannot do so on account of another force. “It is indestructible -and ungenerated, without decrease or increase, without any change. It -is different from earth, fire, air and water; it is what the ancients -called ether, as the highest place, from its continuous course (ἀεὶ -θεῖν) in infinite time.” This ether thus appears to be eternal matter -which does not, however, take such a definite form, but which remains -as it is, just as the heavens do in our conception, although here the -juxtaposition begins ever to strike us more forcibly. - -Aristotle (De C\nlo, III. 6) shows further that the elements do -not proceed from one body, but from one another; for in generation -they neither proceed from what is incorporeal, nor from what is -corporeal. In the first case they would have sprung from the vacuum, -for the vacuum is the immediate incorporeal; but in that case the -vacuum must have existed independently as that in which determinate -corporeality arose. But neither do the elements arise from a corporeal, -for else this body itself would be a corporeal element before the -elements. Thus it only remains that the elements must spring from one -another. Regarding this we must remark that Aristotle understands by -origination, actual origination—not the transition from the universal -to the individual, but the origination of one determinate corporeal, -not from its principle, but from the opposite as such. Aristotle does -not consider the universal as it contains the negative within it; else -the universal would be the absolute matter whose universality, as -negativity, is set forth, or is real. - -From this point Aristotle comes (De C\nlo, IV. I-5) to a kind of -deduction of the elements, which is noteworthy. He shows that there -must be four of them, in the following way—because he starts from the -fundamental conceptions of weight and of lightness, or what we should -call attraction and centrifugal force. The corporeal, he says, in its -motion is neither light nor heavy, and, indeed, it is not only relative -but also absolute. The relatively light and heavy is what, while equal -in volume, descends more slowly or quickly. Absolute lightness goes -up to the extremity of the heavens, absolute weight down into the -middle. These extremes are fire and earth. Between these there are -mediums, other than they, which relate to one another like them; and -these are air and water, the one of which has weight, and the other -lightness, but only relatively. For water is suspended under everything -except earth, and air over everything except fire. “Hence,” Aristotle -concludes, “there now are these four matters, but they are four in such -a way that they have one in common; more particularly, because they -arise out of one another, but exist as different.” Yet it is not the -ether that Aristotle designates as this common matter. We must in this -regard remark that however little these first determinations may be -exhaustive, Aristotle is still far further on than the moderns, since -he had not the conception of elements which prevails at the present -time, according to which the element is made to subsist as simple. -But any such simple determination of Being is an abstraction and has -no reality, because such existence would be capable of no motion and -change; the element must itself have reality, and it thus is, as the -union of opposites, resolvable. Aristotle hence makes the elements, as -we have already seen with those who went before (Vol. I., pp. 181, 182; -290-293; 336), arise out of one another and pass into one another; and -this is entirely opposed to our Physics, which understands by elements -an indelible, self-identical simplicity only. Hence men are wonderfully -discerning in reproaching us for calling water, air, &c., elements! -Nor yet in the expression “neutrality” have the modern physicists been -able to grasp a universality conceived of as a unity, such as Aristotle -ascribes to the elements; in fact, however, the acid which unites with -a base is no longer, as is asserted, present within it as such. But -however removed Aristotle may be from understanding simplicity as an -abstraction, just as little does he recognize here the arid conception -of consisting of parts. Quite the contrary. He strives enough against -this, as, for instance, in relation to Anaxagoras (De C\nl. III. 4). - -I shall further mention the moments of the real process in relation -to motion, in which Aristotle finally passes on (De gen. et corr. -II. 2-4) to the “principles of perceptible body”; we here see the -elements in process, as formerly in their restful determinateness. -Aristotle excludes the relations which concern sight, smell, &c., -and brings forward the others as being those which are of sensible -weight or lightness. He gives as these fundamental principles—warmth -and cold, dryness and moisture; they are the sensible differences for -others, while weight and lightness are different for themselves. Now -in order to prepare for the transition of the elements into sensible -relations, Aristotle says: “Because there are those four principles, -and four things have properly six relations to one another, but the -opposite cannot here be connected (the moist cannot be connected -with the dry, or the warm with the cold), there are four connections -of these principles, warm and dry, warm and moist, cold and moist, -cold and dry. And these connections follow those first elements, so -that thus fire is warm and dry, air warm and moist (vapour), water -cold and moist, earth cold and dry.” From this Aristotle now makes -the reciprocal transformation of the elements into one another -comprehensible thus: Origination and decay proceed from the opposite -and into the opposite. All elements have a mutual opposite; each is -as non-being to the Being of the other, and one is thus distinguished -from the other as actuality and capacity. Now amongst these some have -an equal part in common; fire and water, for example, have warmth; -thus if in fire dryness were overcome by moisture, out of fire air -would arise. On the contrary, as regards those which have nothing in -common with one another, like earth, which is cold and dry, and air, -which is warm and moist, the transition goes more slowly forward. The -transition of all elements into one another, the whole process of -nature, is thus to Aristotle the constant rotation of their changes. -This is unsatisfactory, because neither are the individual elements -comprehended nor is the remainder rounded into a whole. - -As a matter of fact, Aristotle now goes on, in meteorology, to -the consideration of the universal process of nature. But here we -have reached his limits. Here, in the natural process, the simple -determination as such—this system of progressive determination—ceases -to hold good, and its whole interest is lost. For it is in the -real process that these determinate conceptions always lose their -signification again and become their opposite, and in it also this -contingent succession is forced together and united. In determining -time and motion, we certainly saw Aristotle himself uniting opposite -determinations; but movement, in its true determination, must take -space and time back into itself; it must represent itself as being -the unity of these its real moments and in them; that is, as the -realization of this ideal. But still more must the following moments, -moisture, warmth, &c., themselves come back under the conception of -process. But the sensuous manifestation here begins to obtain the upper -hand; for the empirical has the nature of the isolated form, which is -to fall out of relation. The empirical manifestation thus outstrips -thought, which merely continues everywhere to stamp it as its own, -but which has no longer power to permeate the manifestation, since it -withdraws out of the sphere of the ideal, while it is still in the -region of time, space and movement. - - -3. THE PHILOSOPHY OF MIND. - -As regards the other side from the Philosophy of Nature, the Philosophy -of Mind, we find that Aristotle has constituted in it also a separation -into special sciences, in a series of works which I shall name. In -the first place, his three books “On the Soul” deal partly with the -abstract universal nature of the soul, though mainly in an antagonistic -spirit; and even more, and in a fashion both profound and speculative, -they deal with the soul’s essential nature—not with its Being, but -with the determinate manner and potentiality of its energy; for -this is to Aristotle the Being and essence of the soul. Thus there -are several different treatises, viz.: On Sense-perception and the -Sensible, On Memory and Recollection, On Sleeping and Waking, On -Dreams, On Divination (μαντική) through Dreams, besides a treatise on -Physiognomy; there is no empirical point of view or phenomenon, either -in the natural or the spiritual world, that Aristotle has considered -beneath his notice. With respect to the practical side, he in like -manner devotes his attention to man in his capacity of householder, in -a work on economics (οἰκονομικά); then he takes into his consideration -the individual human being, in a moral treatise (ἠθικά), which is -partly an inquiry into the highest good or the absolute end, and -partly a dissertation on special virtues. The manner of treatment is -almost invariably speculative, and sound understanding is displayed -throughout. Finally, in his Politics, he gives a representation of the -true constitution of a state and the different kinds of constitution, -which he deals with from the empirical point of view; and in his -Politics an account is given of the most important states, of which we -are, however, told very little. - - -a. PSYCHOLOGY. - -In Aristotle’s teaching on this subject we must not expect to find -so-called metaphysics of the soul. For metaphysical handling such as -this really pre-supposes the soul as a thing, and asks, for example, -what sort of a thing it is, whether it is simple, and so on. Aristotle -did not busy his concrete, speculative mind with abstract questions -such as these, but, as already remarked, he deals rather with the -manner of the soul’s activity; and though this appears in a general way -as a series of progressive determinations which are not necessarily -blended into a whole, each determination is yet apprehended in its own -sphere with as much correctness as depth. - -Aristotle (De Anima, I. 1) makes in the first place the general remark -that it appears as if the soul must, on the one hand, be regarded -in its freedom as independent and as separable from the body, since -in thinking it is independent; and, on the other hand, since in the -emotions it appears to be united with the body and not separate, it -must also be looked on as being inseparable from it; for the emotions -show themselves as materialized Notions (λόγοι ἔνυλοι), as material -modes of what is spiritual. With this a twofold method of considering -the soul, also known to Aristotle, comes into play, namely the purely -rational or logical view, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the -physical or physiological; these we still see practised side by side. -According to the one view, anger, for instance, is looked on as an -eager desire for retaliation or the like; according to the other view -it is the surging upward of the heart-blood and the warm element in -man. The former is the rational, the latter the material view of anger; -just as one man may define a house as a shelter against wind, rain, and -other destructive agencies, while another defines it as consisting of -wood and stone; that is to say, the former gives the determination and -the form, or the purpose of the thing, while the latter specifies the -material it is made of, and its necessary conditions. - -Aristotle characterizes the nature of the soul more closely (De Anima, -II. 1) by referring to the three moments of existence: “First there -is matter (ὕλη), which is in itself no individual thing; secondly, -the form and the universal (μορφὴ καὶ εἶδος), which give a thing -individuality; thirdly, the result produced by both, in which matter -is potentiality and form is energy (ἐντελέχεια);” matter thus does -not exist as matter, but only implicitly. “The soul is substance, -as being the form of the physical organic body which is possessed -potentially of life; but its substance is energy (ἐντελέχεια), the -energy of a body such as has been described” (endowed with life). “This -energy appears in twofold form: either as knowledge (ἐπιστήμη) or as -active observation (τὸ θεωρεῖν). But it is evident that here it is to -be regarded as the former of these. For the soul is present with us -both when we sleep and when we wake; waking corresponds with active -observation, and sleep with possession and passivity. But knowledge is -in origination prior to all else. The soul is thus the first energy of -a physical but organic body.” It is in respect of this that Aristotle -gives to the soul the definition of being the entelechy (_supra_, pp. -143, 144). - -In the same chapter Aristotle comes to the question of the mutual -relation of body and soul. “For this reason” (because soul is form) -“we must no more ask if soul and body are one than we ask if wax and -its form are one, or, in general, if matter and its forms are one. For -though unity and Being are used in various senses. Being is essentially -energy.” Were we, namely, to pronounce body and soul one in the same -way that a house, which consists of a number of parts, or as a thing -and its properties, or the subject and predicate, and so on, are -called one, where both are regarded as things, materialism results. -An identity such as this is an altogether abstract, and therefore a -superficial and empty determination, and a term which it is a mistake -to employ, for form and material do not rank equally as regards Being; -identity truly worthy of the name is to be apprehended as nothing else -than energy such as has been described. The only question that now -arises is whether activity and the organ it employs are one; and our -idea is to answer in the affirmative. The more definite explanation of -this relation is to be found in the following; “The soul is substance, -but only according to the Notion (κατὰ τὸν λόγον); but that is the -substantial form (τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι)[96] for such and such a body. For -suppose that an instrument, such as an axe, were a natural body, this -form, this axehood, would be its substance, and this its form would be -its soul, for if this were to be taken away from it, it would no longer -be an axe, the name only would remain. But soul is not the substantial -form and Notion of such a body as an axe, but of a body which has -within itself the principle of movement and of rest.” The axe has not -the principle of its form in itself, it does not make itself an axe, -nor does its form, its Notion, in itself constitute its substance, as -its activity is not through itself. “If, for instance, the eye were -in itself a living thing, vision would be its soul, for vision is the -reality which expresses the Notion of the eye. But the eye, as such, is -only the material instrument of vision, for if vision were lost, the -eye would be an eye only in name, like an eye of stone or a painted -eye.” Thus to the question, What is the substance of the eye? Aristotle -answers: Are the nerves, humours, tissues, its substance? On the -contrary, sight itself is its substance, these material substances are -only an empty name. “As this is the case in the part, so it also holds -good of the body as a whole. The potentiality of life is not in any -such thing as has lost its soul, but in that which still possesses it. -The seed or the fruit is such and such a body potentially. Like hewing -and seeing,” in the axe and the eye, “waking” in general “is activity; -but the corporeal is only potentiality. But as the” living “eye is -both vision and the eyeball” (the two being connected as actuality and -potentiality), “so also are soul and body the living animal, the two -are not to be separated. But it is not yet clear whether the soul is -the activity of the body in the same way as the steersman is of the -ship.” That the active form is the true substance, while matter is so -only potentially, is a true speculative Notion. - -As settling the question asked in the above-mentioned metaphor, we may -quote what Aristotle says later (De Anima, II. 4): “As the principle of -motion and as end (οὗ ἕνεκα), and as substance of living bodies, the -soul is the cause. For substance is to all objects the cause of their -existence, but life is the existence of the living, and its cause and -principle is the soul; and further, its energy is the existing Notion -of what has potential existence. The soul is cause also as end,” that -is, as self-determining universality, “for nature, like thought, acts -for the sake of an object, which object is its end, but in living -beings this is soul. All the parts of the body are thus the organs of -the soul, and hence exist for its sake.” In like manner Aristotle shows -that the soul is the cause of motion. - -Aristotle (De Anima, II. 2, 3) further states that the soul is to -be determined in three ways, namely as nutrient or vegetable, as -sensitive, and as intelligent, corresponding with plant life, animal -life and human life. The nutrient soul, when it is alone, belongs to -plants; when it is at the same time capable of sense-perception, it is -the animal soul; and when at once nutrient, sensitive and intelligent, -it is the mind of man. Man has thus three natures united in himself; a -thought which is also expressed in modern Natural Philosophy by saying -that a man is also both an animal and a plant, and which is directed -against the division and separation of the differences in these -forms. That difference has also been revived in recent times in the -observation of the organic, and it is highly important to keep these -sides separate. The only question (and it is Aristotle who raises it) -is how far these, as parts, are separable. As to what concerns more -nearly the relation of the three souls, as they may be termed (though -they are incorrectly thus distinguished), Aristotle says of them, with -perfect truth, that we need look for no one soul in which all these are -found, and which in a definite and simple form is conformable with any -one of them. This is a profound observation, by means of which truly -speculative thought marks itself out from the thought which is merely -logical and formal. Similarly among figures only the triangle and the -other definite figures, like the square, the parallelogram, &c., are -truly anything; for what is common to them, the universal figure, is -an empty thing of thought, a mere abstraction. On the other hand, -the triangle is the first, the truly universal figure, which appears -also in the square, &c., as the figure which can be led back to the -simplest determination. Therefore, on the one hand, the triangle stands -alongside of the square, pentagon, &c., as a particular figure, but—and -this is Aristotle’s main contention—it is the truly universal figure. -In the same way the soul must not be sought for as an abstraction, for -in the animate being the nutritive and the sensitive soul are included -in the intelligent, but only as its object or its potentiality; -similarly, the nutritive soul, which constitutes the nature of plants, -is also present in the sensitive soul, but likewise only as being -implicit in it, or as the universal. Or the lower soul inheres only in -the higher, as a predicate in a subject: and this mere ideal is not -to be ranked very high, as is indeed the case in formal thought; that -which is for itself is, on the contrary, the never-ceasing return into -itself, to which actuality belongs. We can determine these expressions -even more particularly. For if we speak of soul and body, we term the -corporeal the objective and the soul the subjective; and the misfortune -of nature is just this, that it is objective, that is, it is the -Notion only implicitly, and not explicitly. In the natural there is, -no doubt, a certain activity, but again this whole sphere is only -the objective, the implicit element in one higher. As, moreover, the -implicit in its sphere appears as a reality for the development of the -Idea, it has two sides; the universal is already itself an actual, as, -for example, the vegetative soul. Aristotle’s meaning is therefore -this: an empty universal is that which does not itself exist, or is not -itself species. All that is universal is in fact real, as particular, -individual, existing for another. But that universal is real, in that -by itself, without further change, it constitutes its first species, -and when further developed it belongs, not to this, but to a higher -stage. These are the general determinations which are of the greatest -importance, and which, if developed, would lead to all true views of -the organic, &c., since they give a correct general representation of -the principle of realization. - -α. The nutritive or vegetative soul is therefore, according to -Aristotle (De Anima, II. 4), to be conceived as the first, which -is energy, the general Notion of the soul itself, just as it is, -without further determination; or, as we should say, plant life is the -Notion of the organic. What Aristotle goes on to say of nourishment, -for instance, whether the like is nourished by the like, or by the -opposite, is of little importance. It may, however, be mentioned that -Aristotle (De Anima, II. 12) says of the vegetative soul that it is -related only to matter, and that only after a material manner, as when -we eat and drink, but that it cannot take up into itself the forms of -sensible things: we, too, ourselves in practical matters are related as -particular individuals to a material existence here and now, in which -our own material existence comes into activity. - -β. There is more to interest us in Aristotle’s determination of -sense-perception (De Anima, II. 5), as to which I shall make some -further quotations. Sense-perception is in general a potentiality (we -should say a receptivity), but this potentiality is also activity; -it is therefore not to be conceived as mere passivity. Passivity and -activity pertain to one and the same, or passivity has two senses. -“On the one hand a passivity is the destruction of one state by its -opposite; on the other hand, it is a preservation of what is merely -potential by means of what is actual.” The one case occurs in the -acquisition of knowledge, which is a passivity in so far as a change -takes place from one condition (ἕξις) into an opposite condition; -but there is another passivity, in which something only potentially -posited is maintained, therefore knowledge is knowing in an active -sense (_supra_, p. 182). From this Aristotle concludes: “There is one -change which is privative; and another which acts on the nature and the -permanent energy (ἕξις). The first change in the subject of perception -(αἰσθητικοῦ) is caused by that which produces the perception; but, -once produced, the perception is possessed as knowledge (επιστήμη).” -Because that which produces the change is different from the result, -perception is passivity; but it is just as much spontaneity, “and -sense-perception, like knowledge (θεωρεῖν), has to do with this aspect -of activity. But the difference is, that what causes the perception is -external. The cause of this is that perceptive activity is directed -on the particular, while knowledge has as its object the universal; -but the universal is, to a certain extent, in the soul itself as -its substance. Everyone can therefore think when he will,” and for -this very reason thought is free, “but perception does not depend -on him, having the necessary condition that the object perceived be -present.” The influence from without, as a passivity, comes therefore -first; but there follows the activity of making this passive content -one’s own. This is doubtless the correct point from which to view -perception, whatever be the manner of further development preferred, -subjective idealism, or any other way. For it is a matter of perfect -indifference whether we find ourselves subjectively or objectively -determined; in both there is contained the moment of passivity, by -which the perception comes to pass. The monad of Leibnitz appears, -it is true, to be an idea opposed to this, since every monad, every -point of my finger, as atom or individual, is an entire universe, the -whole of which develops in itself without reference to other monads. -Here seems to be asserted the highest idealistic freedom, but it is -of no avail to imagine that all in me develops out of me; for we must -always recollect that what is thus developed in me is passive, and not -free. With this moment of passivity Aristotle does not fall short of -idealism; sensation is always in one aspect passive. That is, however, -a false idealism which thinks that the passivity and spontaneity of -the mind depend on whether the determination given is from within -or from without, as if there were freedom in sense-perception, -whereas it is itself a sphere of limitation. It is one thing when the -matter—whether it be sensation, light, colour, seeing or hearing—is -apprehended from the Idea, for it is then shown that it comes to pass -from the self-determination of the Idea. But it is different when, -in so far as I exist as an individual subject, the Idea exists in -me as this particular individual; there we have the standpoint of -finitude established, and therefore of passivity. Thus there need be -no standing on ceremony with sense-perception, nor can a system of -idealism be based on the theory that nothing comes to us from without: -as Fichte’s theory about himself was, that when he put on his coat, he -constituted it in part by drawing it on, or even by looking at it. The -individual element in sensation is the sphere of the individuality of -consciousness; it is present therein in the form of one thing as much -as of another, and its individuality consists in this fact, that other -things exist for it. Aristotle continues: “Speaking generally, the -difference is that potentiality is twofold; as we say a boy may become -a general, and a grown man may also become so,” for the latter has the -effective power. “This is the nature of the faculty of sense-perception -(αἰσθητικόν); it is in potentiality what the object of sense (αἰσθητόν) -is in actuality. Sense-perception is therefore passive, in so far as -it does not resemble its object, but after the impression has been -made it becomes similar to its object, and is identified with it.” -The reaction of sense-perception consists therefore in this active -receiving into itself of that which is perceived; but this is simply -activity in passivity, the spontaneity which abrogates the receptivity -in sense-perception. Sense-perception, as made like to itself, has, -while appearing to be brought to pass by means of an influence working -on it, brought to pass the identity of itself and its object. If -then subjective idealism declares that there are no external things, -that they are but a determination of our self, this must be admitted -in respect to pure sense-perception, since sense-perception is a -subjective existence or state in me, which yet, however, is not for -that reason freedom. - -In speaking of sense-perception, Aristotle (De Anima, II. 12) -makes use of his celebrated simile, which has so often occasioned -misapprehension, because it has been understood quite incorrectly. His -words are: “Sense-perception is the receiving of sensible forms without -matter, as wax receives only the impress of the golden signet ring, -not the gold itself, but merely its form.” For the form is the object -as universal; and theoretically we are in the position, not of the -individual and sensuous, but of the universal. The case is different -with us in our practical relations, where the influence working upon us -pre-supposes in return the contact of the material, for which reason, -as Aristotle asserts, plants do not perceive (_supra_, p. 186). On -the other hand, in receiving form, the material is lost sight of; for -the receiving of form indicates no positive relation to the matter, -which is no longer something offering resistance. If, therefore, -sense-perceptions are termed in general sensuous impressions, we, in -matter-of-fact fashion, do not get beyond this crude way of putting -it; and in making the transition to soul, we take refuge behind -popular conceptions, which are partly ill-defined Notions, and partly -not Notions at all. Thus it is said that all sense-perceptions are -impressed on the soul by external things, just as the matter of the -signet ring works on the matter of the wax; and then we hear it alleged -that this is Aristotle’s philosophy. It is the same with most other -philosophers; if they give any sort of illustration that appeals to -the senses, everyone can understand it, and everyone takes the content -of the comparison in its full extent: as if all that is contained in -this sensuous relationship should also hold good of the spiritual. No -great importance is therefore to be attached to this conception, as it -is only an illustration, professing to show by a side comparison that -the passive element in sense-perception is in its passivity for pure -form only; this form alone is taken up into the percipient subject, -and finds a place in the soul. It does not, however, remain in the -same relation to it as that in which the form stands to the wax, nor -is it as in chemistry where one element is permeated by another as -regards its matter. The chief circumstance, therefore, and that which -constitutes the difference between this illustration and the condition -of the soul is altogether overlooked. That is to say, the wax does not, -indeed, take in the form, for the impression remains on it as external -figure and contour, without being a form of its real Being; if it were -to become such, it would cease to be wax; therefore, because in the -illustration there is lacking this reception of form into the Being, -no thought is given to it. The soul, on the contrary, assimilates this -form into its own substance, and for the very reason, that the soul is -in itself, to a certain extent, the sum of all that is perceived by -the senses (_infra_, p. 198): as it was said above (p. 183), if the -axe had its form in the determination of substance, this form would -be the soul of the axe. The illustration of the wax has reference to -nothing but the fact that only the form comes to the soul; and has -nothing to do with the form being external to the wax and remaining so, -or with the soul having, like wax, no independent form. The soul is by -no means said to be passive wax and to receive its determinations from -without; but Aristotle, as we shall soon see (p. 194), really says that -the spirit repels matter from itself, and maintains itself against it, -having relation only to form. In sense-perception the soul is certainly -passive, but the manner in which it receives is not like that of the -wax, being just as truly activity of the soul; for after the perceptive -faculty has received the impression, it abrogates the passivity, and -remains thenceforth free from it (_supra_, p. 187). The soul therefore -changes the form of the external body into its own, and is identical -with an abstract quality such as this, for the sole reason that it -itself is this universal form. - -This description of sense-perception Aristotle explains more fully in -what follows (De Anima, III. 2), and expatiates upon this unity and -its contrasts, in the course of which explanation there appear many -clear and far-reaching glimpses into the Nature of consciousness. “The -bodily organ of each sense-perception receives the object perceived -without matter. Hence, when the object of sense is removed, the -perceptions and the images which represent them remain in the organs. -In the act of sense-perception the object perceived is no doubt -identical with the subject that perceives, but they do not exist[97] -as the same; for instance, sound and the hearing are the same when in -active exercise, but that which has hearing does not always hear, and -that which has sound is not always sounding. When that which is the -potentiality of hearing comes into exercise, and likewise that which is -the potentiality of sound, hearing and sound, being in full activity, -coincide,” they do not remain separate energies. “If then movement -and action, as well as passivity, have a place in the object on which -activity is exercised (ἐν τῷ ποιουμένῳ), it follows necessarily that -the energy of hearing and sound is contained in that which potentially -is hearing, for the energy of the active and moving is in the passive. -As therefore activity and passivity are manifested in the subject -which receives the effect, and not in the object which produces it -(ποιοῦντι), the energy both of the object and of the faculty of -sense-perception is in the faculty itself. For hearing and sounding -there are two words, for seeing only one; seeing is the activity of -the person who sees, but the activity of the colour is without name. -Since the energy of that which is perceived and that which perceives -is one energy, and the aspect they present is alone different, the -so-called sounding and hearing must cease simultaneously.” There is a -body which sounds and a subject which hears; they are twofold in the -aspect they present, but hearing, taken by itself, is intrinsically an -activity of both. In like manner, when I have by sense the perception -of redness and hardness, my perception is itself red and hard: that is, -I find myself determined in that way, even though reflection says that -outside of me there is a red, hard thing, and that it and my finger -are two; but they are also one, my eye is red and the thing. It is -upon this difference and this identity that everything depends; and -Aristotle demonstrates this in the most emphatic way, and holds firmly -to his point. The later distinction of subjective and objective is the -reflection of consciousness; sense-perception is simply the abrogation -of this separation, it is that form of identity which abstracts from -subjectivity and objectivity. What is simple, the soul proper or -the I, is in sense-perception unity in difference. “Further, every -sense-perception is in its organ, and distinguishes everything that is -perceived, like black and white, and so on. It is thus not possible for -separate perceptions, white and sweet, to be distinguished as separate -indifferent moments, for both must be present (δῆλα) to one subject. -This one subject must therefore determine one thing to be different -from another. This, as distinguished, can also not be in a different -place or time, for it must be undivided and in undivided time. But -it is impossible that one and the same thing should be affected by -contrary movements, in so far as it is undivided and in undivided time. -If sweetness affects sense-perception in one way, and bitterness in the -contrary way, and whiteness in yet another way, the power of judging is -numerically not discrete nor divisible, but according to the Notion (τῷ -εἶναι)[98] it is distinguished. That which is the same and indivisible -thus possesses in potentiality opposite qualities; but with its true -existence (τῷ εἶναι) that cannot be the case, for in its activity it -is separable, and cannot at the same time be both white and black. -Sense-perception and thinking are like that which some term a point, -which, in so far as it is one, is inseparable, and in so far as it is -two, is separable. So far as it is undivided, the judging faculty is -one and acts in a single point of time, but so far as it is divided” -(not one) “it employs the same sign twice simultaneously. So far as -it employs two, it by limitation distinguishes two, and separates -them as having separate origin; but so far as it is one, it judges by -one act in one single point of time” (_supra_, p. 172). For as the -point in time, which resembles the point in space, contains future and -past, and thus is something different and at the same time one and the -same, since it is in one and the same respect separation and union; -sense-perception is also one and at the same time separation, separated -and not separated, seeing that the faculty of perception has before -it in one unity the distinct sense-perception, which by this means -receives for the first time a determinate content. Another example is -that of number; one and two are different, and, at the same time, even -in two one is used and posited as one. - -γ. From sense-perception Aristotle passes on to thought, and becomes -here really speculative. “Thinking,” he says (De Anima, III. 4) “is not -passive (ἀπαθές), but receptive of the form, and is in potentiality -similar to it. Therefore the understanding (νοῦς), because it thinks -all things, is free from all admixture (ἀμιγής), in order that it may -overcome (κρατῇ), as Anaxagoras says, that is, in order that it may -acquire knowledge; for, coming forth in its energy (παρεμφαινόμενον), -it holds back what is alien to it, and fortifies itself against it -(ἀντιφράττει). Therefore the nature of the understanding is none other -than this potentiality.” But potentiality itself is here not matter; -that is to say, the understanding has no matter, for potentiality -pertains to its very substance. For thinking is really the not -being implicit; and on account of its purity its reality is not the -being-for-another, but its potentiality is itself a being-for-self. -A thing is real because it is this determinate thing; the opposite -determination, its potentiality to be, for instance, smoke, ashes, -and so on, is not posited in it. In the corporeal, therefore, matter, -as potentiality, and external form, as reality, are opposed to one -another; but the soul is, in contrast with this, universal potentiality -itself, without matter, because its essence is energy. “Understanding, -then, in the soul, as that which possesses consciousness, is nothing in -reality before it thinks;” it is absolute activity, but exists only -when it is active. “It is therefore not incorporated with the body. For -what should it be like, warm or cold? Or should it be an organ? But it -is none of these. That it is, however, different from the faculty of -sense-perception is clear. For sense-perception cannot perceive after -a violent perception; for instance, it cannot smell nor see after -experiencing strong smells or colours. But the understanding, after -it has thought something which can only be thought with difficulty, -will not have more but less difficulty in thinking of something that -is easier. For there is no sense-perception independent of the body, -but the understanding is separable from it. When it has then become -something individual, like him who is really possessed of a faculty of -knowing (and this happens when he can energize through himself), it -then is also in a certain degree according to potentiality, but yet not -so in the same manner as it was before learning and finding.” (_Cf._ -_supra_, pp. 182, 187.) - -Thinking makes itself into passive understanding, that is, into what -is for it the objective; and thus it here becomes plain to what extent -the dictum _nihil est in intellectu quod non fuerit in sensu_ expresses -Aristotle’s meaning. Aristotle, raising difficulties, goes on to ask, -“If reason is simple and unaffected by impressions, and has nothing -in common with other objects, how can it think, since thinking is -certainly a state of receptivity?” That is to say, in thinking there -is a reference to an object distinct from itself. “For it is when two -objects have something in common that the one appears to produce and -the other to receive an impression. There is a further difficulty, -whether understanding can itself be the object of thought. In that case -understanding would either be inherent in other things—unless it is the -object of thought in a different sense from that in which other things -are so, but there is only one sense in which things can be objects of -thought—or, on the other hand, it would have something compounded with -it, making it an object of thought as other things are. Now it has -been already said that passivity is so determined that understanding -is in potentiality all that thought is exercised on: but at the same -time it is in actuality nothing before the exercise of thought.” That -is to say, thought is implicitly the content of the object of what is -thought, and in coming into existence it only coincides with itself; -but the self-conscious understanding is not merely implicit, but -essentially explicit, since it is within itself all things. That is an -idealistic way of expressing it; and yet they say that Aristotle is an -empiricist. - -The passivity of understanding has therefore here only the sense of -potentiality before actuality, and that is the great principle of -Aristotle; in regard to this he brings forward at the end of the same -chapter another much-decried illustration, which has been just as much -misunderstood as the preceding. “Reason is like a book upon whose -pages nothing is actually written;” that is, however, paper, but not -a book. All Aristotle’s thoughts are overlooked, and only external -illustrations such as this are comprehended. A book on which nothing -is written everyone can understand. And the technical term is the -well-known _tabula rasa_, which is to be found wherever Aristotle is -spoken of: Aristotle is said to have alleged that the mind is a blank -page, on which characters are first traced by external objects, so -that thinking thus comes to it from without.[99] But that is the very -opposite of what Aristotle says. Instead of the Notion being adhered -to, casual comparisons such as these have been caught up here and -there by the imagination, as if they expressed the matter itself. -But Aristotle did not in the least intend that the analogy should be -pushed to its furthest extent: the understanding is of a surety not a -thing, and has not the passivity of a writing-tablet; it is itself the -energy, which is not, as it would be in the case of a tablet, external -to it. The analogy is therefore confined to this, that the soul has a -content only in so far as actual thought is exercised. The soul is this -book unwritten on, and the meaning consequently is that the soul is all -things implicitly, but it is not in itself this totality; it is like -a book that contains all things potentially, but in reality contains -nothing before it is written on. Before real activity nothing truly -exists; or “Understanding itself can enter thought, like the objects -of thought in general. For in that which is without matter” (in mind), -“the thinker” (the subjective) “and the thought” (the objective) “are -the same; theoretical knowledge and that which comes to be known are -the same. In that which is material, thinking is only in potentiality, -so that understanding itself does not belong to it; for understanding -is a potentiality without matter, but the object of thought exists in -it,” while Nature contains the Idea only implicitly. It is plain from -this that the above illustration has been taken in quite a false sense, -utterly contrary to Aristotle’s meaning. - -Until now we have spoken of the passive understanding, which is -the nature of the soul, but also in equal degree its faculty of -sense-perception and imagination. Aristotle now proceeds to distinguish -active understanding from this, as follows (De Anima, III. 5): “In -nature as a whole there is present in every species of things, on the -one hand, matter, which in potentiality is the whole of this species, -and, on the other hand, cause and energy, operative in all things, in -the same way that art is related to matter. It therefore necessarily -follows that in the soul also these different elements should be -present. The faculty of understanding is thus, in one view of it, the -capacity of becoming all things; but in another view it is the capacity -of creating all things, as is done by an efficient power (ἕξις), -light, for instance, which first causes the colours which exist in -potentiality to exist in reality. This understanding is absolute -(χωριστός), uncompounded, and not influenced from without, as it is -essentially activity. For the active is always more in honour than -the passive, and the principle more in honour than the matter that it -forms. Knowledge, when in active exercise, is identical with the thing -(πρᾶγμα) known; but what is in potentiality” (that is, external reason, -imagination, sense-perception) “is certainly prior in respect of time -in one and the same individual, but in the universal (ὅλως) it is not -even so in respect of time. Active understanding is not such that it -sometimes thinks and sometimes does not. When it is absolute, it is the -one and only existence; and this alone is eternal and immortal. We, -however, do not remember this process, because this understanding is -unaffected from without; but the passive understanding is transitory, -and without the former it is incapable of thought.” - -The seventh and eighth chapters are expositions of the maxims contained -in the fourth and fifth; they begin with these maxims, and have the -appearance of being from the hand of a commentator. “The soul,” says -Aristotle (De Anima, III. 8), “is in a certain sense the whole of -existence. For existent objects are either perceived by the senses or -thought; but knowledge itself is in a manner the object of knowledge, -and perception the object of perception. What are known and perceived -are either the things themselves or their forms. Knowledge and -sense-perception are not the things themselves (the stone is not in the -soul), but their form; so that the soul is like the hand. As this is -the instrument by which we grasp instruments, so the understanding is -the form by which we apprehend forms, and sense-perception the form of -the objects cf sense.” Before this Aristotle had remarked (De Anima, -III. 4): “It has been truly said that the soul is the _place of ideas_ -(τόπος εἰδῶν): not the whole soul, but only the thinking soul, and -these ideas do not exist in the soul actually, but only potentially.” -That is to say, the ideas are at first only quiescent forms, not -activities, and so Aristotle is not a realist. But the understanding -makes these forms, like those of external nature, its objects, its -thoughts, its potentiality, Aristotle therefore says in the seventh -chapter: “The understanding thinks the abstract (τὰ ἐν ἀφαιρέσει -λεγόμενα), just as it conceives snubnosedness not as snubnosedness -that cannot be separated from the flesh, but as hollowness.” Then in -the eighth chapter Aristotle goes on to say: “But as no object is -separated from its perceived dimensions, so in the forms perceived by -sense there are also objects of thought, both abstract conceptions -and the qualities (ἕξεις) and determinations of the objects of sense. -In this way he who perceives nothing by his senses learns nothing -and understands nothing; when he discerns anything (θεωρῇ), he must -necessarily discern it as a pictorial conception, for such conceptions -are like sense-perceptions, only without matter. In what way then -are our primary ideas distinguished, so as not to be mistaken for -conceptions? Or is it not the case also that other thoughts even -are not pictorial conceptions, but only that they are never found -unassociated with such conceptions?” Since what follows contains no -answer to the questions raised here at the very end, this would seem an -additional indication that these portions follow later.[100] Aristotle -concludes the seventh chapter with the words: “Speaking generally, -the understanding is the faculty which thinks things in their real -activity. Whether, however, it can think the absolute or not, unless -it be itself separated from the sensuous, we shall inquire later -(ὕστερον).” This “later” Buhle considers to have reference to the -“highest philosophy.”[101] - -This identity of the subjective and objective, which is present -in the active understanding—while finite things and mental states -are respectively one separated from the other, because there the -understanding is only in potentiality—is the highest point which -speculation can reach: and in it Aristotle reverts to his metaphysical -principles (p. 147), where he termed self-thinking reason absolute -Thought, divine Understanding, or Mind in its absolute character. It -is only in appearance that thought is spoken of as on a level with -what is other than thought; this fashion of bringing what is different -into conjunction certainly appears in Aristotle. But what he says of -thought is explicitly and absolutely speculative, and is not on the -same level with anything else, such as sense-perception, which has only -potentiality for thought. This fact is moreover involved, that reason -is implicitly the true totality, but in that case thought is in truth -the activity which is independent and absolute existence; that is, -the thought of Thought, which is determined thus abstractly, but which -constitutes the nature of absolute mind explicitly. These are the main -points which are to be taken note of in Aristotle with regard to his -speculative ideas, which it is impossible for us, however, to treat in -greater detail. - -We have now to pass on to what follows, which is a practical -philosophy, and in doing so we must first establish firmly the -conception of desire, which is really the turning round of thought into -its negative side, wherein it becomes practical. Aristotle (De Anima, -III. 7 and 6) says: “The object of knowledge and active knowledge are -one and the same; what is in potentiality is in the individual prior in -point of time, although not so in itself. For all that comes into being -originates from that which operates actively. The object perceived -by sense appears as that which causes the faculty of perception in -potentiality to become the faculty of perception in actuality, for the -latter is not receptive of influence, and does not undergo change. On -that account it has a different kind of movement from the ordinary, for -movement, as we have seen (p. 163) is the activity of an unaccomplished -end (ἐνέργεια ἀτελοῦς); pure activity (ἁπλῶς ἐνέργεια), on the -contrary, is that of the accomplished end (τοῦ τετελεσμένον).”—“The -simple thoughts of the soul are such that in regard to them there -can be no falsity; but that in which there is falsity or truth is a -combination of thoughts as constituting one conception; for example, -‘the diameter is incommensurate.’ Or if by mistake white has been -stated to be not white, not-white has been brought into connection with -it. All this process may, however, just as well be termed separation. -But that which makes everything one is reason, which in the form of its -thinking thinks the undivided in undivided time and with the undivided -action of the soul.”—“Sense-perception resembles simple assertion and -thought, but pleasant or unpleasant sense-perception has the relation -of affirmation or negation,” therefore of the positive and negative -determination of thought. “And to perceive the pleasant or unpleasant -is to employ the activity” (spontaneity) “of the middle state of -sense-perception upon good or evil, in so far as they are such. But -desire and aversion are the same in energy; it is only in manifestation -that they are different. To the reasoning soul pictorial conceptions -take the place of sense-perceptions, and when the mind affirms or -denies something to be good or bad, it desires or avoids its object. -It has the relation both of unity and limit. The understanding,” as -that which determines opposites, “recognizes the forms underlying -pictorial conceptions; and in the same manner as what is desirable in -them and what is to be avoided have been determined for it, so it also -is determined independently of actual sense-perceptions when it is in -mental conceptions. And when, in dealing with conception or thought, -as if seeing them, it compares the future with the present and passes -judgment accordingly, and determines what is pleasant or unpleasant in -this respect; it desires or seeks to avoid it, and in general it finds -itself in practical operation. But independently of action true and -false are of the same character as good or evil.” - - -b. PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY. - -From this the conception of will, or the practical element is shown to -us, and it has to be reckoned as still belonging to the Philosophy of -Mind. Aristotle has treated it in several works which we now possess. - - -α. ETHICS. - -We have three great ethical works: the Nicomachean Ethics (Ἠθικὰ -Νικομάχεια) in ten books, the Magna Moralia (Ἠθικὰ μεγάλα) in two -books, and the Eudemean Ethics (Ἠθικὰ Εὐδήμια) in seven books; the -last deals for the most part with particular virtues, while in the -first two general investigations on the principles are contained. Just -as the best that we even now possess in reference to psychology is what -we have obtained from Aristotle, so is it with his reflections on the -actual agent in volition, on freedom, and the further determinations of -imputation, intention, &c. We must simply give ourselves the trouble to -understand these, and to translate them into our own form of speech, -conception and thought; and this is certainly difficult. Aristotle -follows the same course here as in his Physics, determining one -after the other, in the most thorough and accurate fashion, the many -moments which appear in desire: the purpose, the decision, voluntary -or forced action, the act of ignorance, guilt, moral responsibility, -&c. I cannot enter upon this somewhat psychological presentation of -the subject.[102] I shall only make the following remarks on the -Aristotelian definitions. - -Aristotle[103] defines the principle of morality or the highest good, -as happiness (εὐδαιμονία), which later on became a much disputed -expression. It is good generally, not as abstract idea, but in such -a way that the moment of realization is what actually answers to it. -Aristotle thus does not content himself with the Platonic idea of the -good, because it is only general; with him the question is taken in -its determinateness. Aristotle then says that the good is what has its -end in itself (τέλειον). If we tried to translate τέλειον by “perfect” -here, we should translate it badly; it is that which, as having its end -(τὸ τέλος) in itself, is not desired for the sake of anything else, -but for its own sake (_supra_, pp. 162, 201). Aristotle determines -happiness in this regard as the absolute end existing in and for -itself, and gives the following definition of it: It is “the energy -of the life that has its end in itself in accordance with absolute -virtue (ζωῆς τελείας ἐνέργεια κατ̓ ἀρετὴν).” He makes rational insight -an essential condition; all action arising from sensuous desires, or -from lack of freedom generally, indicates lack of insight; it is an -irrational action, or an action which does not proceed from thought as -such. But the absolute rational activity is alone knowledge, the action -which in itself satisfies itself, and this is hence divine happiness; -with the other virtues, on the contrary, only human happiness is -obtained, just as from a theoretic point of view feeling is finite as -compared with divine thought. Aristotle goes on to say much that is -good and beautiful about virtue and the good and happiness in general, -and states that happiness, as the good attainable by us, is not to be -found without virtue, &c.; in all of which there is no profound insight -from a speculative point of view. - -In regard to the conception of virtue I should like to say something -more. From a practical point of view, Aristotle[104] first of all -distinguishes in soul a rational and an irrational side; in the latter -reason only exists potentially; under it come the feelings, passions -and affections. On the rational side understanding, wisdom, discretion, -knowledge, have their place; but they still do not constitute virtue, -which first subsists in the unity of the rational and the irrational -sides. When the inclinations are so related to virtue that they carry -out its dictates, this, according to Aristotle, is virtue. When the -perception is either bad or altogether lacking, but the heart is good, -goodwill may be there, but not virtue, because the principle—that is -reason—which is essential to virtue, is wanting. Aristotle thus places -virtue in knowledge, yet reason is not, as many believe, the principle -of virtue purely in itself, for it is rather the rational impulse -towards what is good; both desire and reason are thus necessary -moments in virtue. Hence it cannot be said of virtue that it is -misemployed, for it itself is the employer. Thus Aristotle, as we have -already seen (Vol. I. pp. 412-414), blames Socrates, because he places -virtue in perception alone. There must be an irrational impulse towards -what is good, but reason comes in addition as that which judges and -determines the impulse; yet when a beginning from virtue has been made, -it does not necessarily follow that the passions are in accordance, -since often enough they are quite the reverse. Thus in virtue, because -it has realization as its aim, and pertains to the individual, reason -is not the solitary principle; for inclination is the force that -impels, the particular, which as far as the practical side of the -individual subject is concerned, is what makes for realization. But -then the subject must, in this separation of his activity, bring -likewise his passions under the subjection of the universal, and this -unity, in which the rational is pre-eminent, is virtue. This is the -correct determination; on the one hand this definition is opposed to -these ideals of the utter subjection of the passions, by which men -are guided from their youth up, and, on the other, it is opposed to -the point of view that declares desires to be good in themselves. -Both these extreme views have been frequent in modern times, just as -sometimes we hear that the man who by nature is beauteous and noble, is -better than he who acts from duty; and then it is said that duty must -be performed as duty, without taking into account the particular point -of view as a moment of the whole. - -Aristotle then passes through the particular virtues at great length. -Because the virtues, considered as the union of the desiring or -realizing with the rational, have an illogical moment within them, -Aristotle places[105] their principle on the side of feeling in -a mean, so that virtue is the mean between two extremes; _e.g._ -liberality is the mean between avarice and prodigality; gentleness -between passion and passive endurance; bravery between rashness and -cowardice; friendship between egotism and self-effacement, &c. For the -good, and specially that good which has to do with the senses, which -would suffer if affected to an excessive degree (_supra_, p. 195), is -therefore a mean, just because the sensuous is an ingredient in it. -This does not appear to be a sufficient definition, and it is merely -a quantitative determination, just because it is not only the Notion -that determines, but the empirical side is also present. Virtue is not -absolutely determined in itself, but likewise has a material element, -the nature of which is capable of a more or a less. Thus if it has been -objected to Aristotle’s definition of virtue as a difference in degree, -that it is unsatisfactory and vague, we may say that this really is -involved in the nature of the thing. Virtue, and determinate virtue in -its entirety, enters into a sphere where that which is quantitative has -a place; thought here is no more as such at home with itself, and the -quantitative limit undetermined. The nature of particular virtues is -of such a kind, that they are capable of no more exact determination; -they can only be spoken of in general, and for them there is no further -determination than just this indefinite one.[106] But in our way of -looking at things, duty is something absolutely existent in itself, and -not a mean between existent extremes through which it is determined; -but this universal likewise results in being empty, or rather -undetermined, while that determinate content is a moment of being that -immediately involves us in conflicting duties. It is in practice that -man seeks a necessity in man as individual, and endeavours to express -it; but it is either formal, or as in particular virtues, a definite -content, which, in so being, falls a prey to empiricism. - - -β. POLITICS. - -We have still to speak of Aristotle’s Politics; he was conscious more -or less that the positive substance, the necessary organization and -realization of practical spirit, is the state, which is actualized -through subjective activity, so that this last finds in it its -determination and end. Aristotle hence also looks on political -philosophy as the sum total of practical philosophy, the end of the -state as general happiness. “All science and all capacity (δύναμις),” -he says (Magn. Mor. I. 1), “have an end, and this is the good: the -more excellent they are, the more excellent is their end; but the most -excellent capacity is the political, and hence its end is also the -good.” Of Ethics Aristotle recognizes that it indubitably also applies -to the individual, though its perfection is attained in the nation as -a whole. “Even if the highest good is the same for an individual and -for a whole state, it would yet surely be greater and more glorious -to win and maintain it for a state; to do this for an individual were -meritorious, but to do it for a nation and for whole states were more -noble and godlike still. Such is the object of practical science, and -this pertains in a measure to politics.”[107] - -Aristotle indeed appreciates so highly the state, that he starts at -once (Polit. I. 2) by defining man as “a political animal, having -reason. Hence he alone has a knowledge of good and evil, of justice -and injustice, and not the beast,” for the beast does not think, and -yet in modern times men rest the distinction which exists in these -determinations on sensation, which beasts have equally with men. -There is also the sense of good and evil, &c., and Aristotle knows -this aspect as well (_supra_, p. 202); but that through which it is -not animal sensation merely, is thought. Hence rational perception -is also to Aristotle the essential condition of virtue, and thus the -harmony between the sensational point of view and that of reason is -an essential moment in his eudæmonism. After Aristotle so determines -man, he says: “The common intercourse of these, forms the family and -the state; in the understanding, however, that the state, in the order -of nature” (_i.e._ in its Notion, in regard to reason and truth, not -to time) “is prior to the family” (the natural relation, not the -rational) “and to the individual among us.” Aristotle does not place -the individual and his rights first, but recognizes the state as what -in its essence is higher than the individual and the family, for the -very reason that it constitutes their substantiality. “For the whole -must be prior to its parts. If, for example, you take away the whole -body, there is not a foot or hand remaining, excepting in name, and as -if anyone should call a hand of stone a hand; for a hand destroyed is -like a hand of stone.” If the man is dead, all the parts perish. “For -everything is defined according to its energy and inherent powers, so -that when these no longer remain such as they were, it cannot be said -that anything is the same excepting in name. The state is likewise -the essence of the individuals; the individual when separate from the -whole, is just as little complete in himself as any other organic part -separated from the whole.” This is directly antagonistic to the modern -principle in which the particular will of the individual, as absolute, -is made the starting-point; so that all men by giving their votes, -decide what is to be the law, and thereby a commonweal is brought into -existence. But with Aristotle, as with Plato, the state is the _prius_, -the substantial, the chief, for its end is the highest in respect -of the practical. “But whoever was incapable of this society, or so -complete in himself as not to want it, would be either a beast or a -god.” - -From these few remarks it is clear that Aristotle could not have -had any thought of a so-called natural right (if a natural right be -wanted), that is, the idea of the abstract man outside of any actual -relation to others. For the rest, his Politics contain points of view -even now full of instruction for us, respecting the inward elements -of a state,[108] and a description of the various constitutions;[109] -the latter, however, has no longer the same interest, on account of -the different principle at the base of ancient and modern states. No -land was so rich as Greece, alike in the number of its constitutions, -and in the frequent changes from one to another of these in a single -state; but the Greeks were still unacquainted with the abstract right -of our modern states, that isolates the individual, allows of his -acting as such, and yet, as an invisible spirit, holds all its parts -together. This is done in such a way, however, that in no one is there -properly speaking either the consciousness of, or the activity for -the whole; but because the individual is really held to be a person, -and all his concern is the protection of his individuality, he works -for the whole without knowing how. It is a divided activity in which -each has only his part, just as in a factory no one makes a whole, but -only a part, and does not possess skill in other departments, because -only a few are employed in fitting the different parts together. It is -free nations alone that have the consciousness of and activity for the -whole; in modern times the individual is only free for himself as such, -and enjoys citizen freedom alone—in the sense of that of a _bourgeois_ -and not of a _citoyen_. We do not possess two separate words to mark -this distinction. The freedom of citizens in this signification is -the dispensing with universality, the principle of isolation; but it -is a necessary moment unknown to ancient states. It is the perfect -independence of the points, and therefore the greater independence of -the whole, which constitutes the higher organic life. After the state -received this principle into itself, the higher freedom could come -forth. These other states are sports and products of nature which -depend upon chance and upon the caprice of the individual, but now, for -the first time, the inward subsistence and indestructible universality, -which is real and consolidated in its parts, is rendered possible. - -Aristotle for the rest has not tried like Plato to describe such a -state, but in respect of the constitution he merely points out that the -best must rule. But this always takes place, let men do as they will, -and hence he has not so very much to do with determining the forms of -the constitution. By way of proving that the best must rule, Aristotle -says this: “The best would suffer injustice if rated on an equality -with the others inferior to them in virtue and political abilities, for -a notable man is like a god amongst men.” Here Alexander is no doubt -in Aristotle’s mind, as one who must rule as though he were a god, and -over whom no one, and not even law, could maintain its supremacy. “For -him there is no law, for he himself is law. Such a man could perhaps -be turned out of the state, but not subjected to control any more than -Jupiter. Nothing remains but, what is natural to all, quietly to submit -to such an one, and to let men like this be absolutely and perpetually -(ἀΐδιοι) kings in the states”[110] The Greek Democracy had then -entirely fallen into decay, so that Aristotle could no longer ascribe -to it any merit. - - -4. THE LOGIC. - -On the other side of the Philosophy of Mind, we have still Aristotle’s -science of abstract thought, a Logic, to consider. For hundreds and -thousands of years it was just as much honoured as it is despised now. -Aristotle has been regarded as the originator of Logic: his logical -works are the source of, and authority for the logical treatises of all -times; which last were, in great measure, only special developments -or deductions, and must have been dull, insipid, imperfect, and purely -formal. And even in quite recent times, Kant has said that since the -age of Aristotle, logic—like pure geometry since Euclid’s day—has -been a complete and perfect science which has kept its place even -down to the present day, without attaining to any further scientific -improvements or alteration. Although logic is here mentioned for the -first time, and in the whole of the history of Philosophy that is to -come no other can be mentioned (for no other has existed, unless we -count the negation of Scepticism), we cannot here speak more precisely -of its content, but merely find room for its general characterization. -The forms he gives to us come from Aristotle both in reference to the -Notion and to the judgment and conclusion. As in natural history, -animals, such as the unicorn, mammoth, beetle, mollusc, &c., are -considered, and their nature described, so Aristotle is, so to speak, -the describer of the nature of these spiritual forms of thought; but in -this inference of the one from the other, Aristotle has only presented -thought as defined in its finite application and aspect, and his logic -is thus a natural history of finite thought. Because it is a knowledge -and consciousness of the abstract activity of pure understanding, it is -not a knowledge of this and that concrete fact, being pure form. This -knowledge is in fact marvellous, and even more marvellous is the manner -in which it is constituted: this logic is hence a work which does the -greatest honour to the deep thought of its discoverer and to the power -of his abstraction. For the greatest cohesive power in thought is found -in separating it from what is material and thus securing it; and the -strength shows itself almost more, if thus secured when it, amalgamated -with matter, turns about in manifold ways and is seen to be capable -of numberless alterations and applications. Aristotle also considers, -in fact, not only the movement of thought, but likewise of thought -in ordinary conception. The Logic of Aristotle is contained in five -books, which are collected together under the name Ὀργανον. - -_a._ The Categories (κατηγορίαι), of which the first work treats, are -the universal determinations, that which is predicated of existent -things (κατηγορεῖται): as well that which we call conceptions of the -understanding, as the simple realities of things. This may be called -an ontology, as pertaining to metaphysics; hence these determinations -also appear in Aristotle’s Metaphysics. Aristotle (Categor. I.) now -says: “Things are termed homonyms (ὁμώνυμα) of which the name alone is -common, but which have a different substantial definition (λόγος τῆς -οὐσίας); thus a horse and the picture of a horse are both called an -animal.” - -Thus the Notion (λόγος) is opposed to the homonym; and since Aristotle -deduces herefrom τὰ λεγόμενα, of which the second chapter treats, it is -clear that this last expression indicates more than mere predication, -and is here to be taken as determinate Notions. “Determinate -conceptions are either enunciated after a complex (κατὰ συμπλοκήν) -or after an incomplex manner (ἄνευ συμπλοκῆς); the first as ‘a man -conquers,’ ‘the ox runs,’ and the other as ‘man,’ ‘ox,’ ‘to conquer,’ -‘to run.’” In the first rank of this division Aristotle places τὰ ὄντα, -which are undoubtedly purely subjective relations of such as exist -_per se_, so that the relation is not in them but external to them. -Now although τὰ λεγόμενα and τὰ ὄντα are again distinguished from one -another, Aristotle yet again employs both λέγεται, and ἐστί of the -ὄντα, so that λέγεται is predicated of a species, in relation to its -particular; ἐστί is, on the contrary, employed of a universal, which -is not Idea but only simple. For Aristotle says, “There are predicates -(ὄντα) which can be assigned to a certain subject (καθ̓ ὑποκειμένον), -yet are in no subject, as ‘man’ is predicated of ‘some certain man,’ -and yet he is no particular man. Others are in a subject (ἐν ὑποκειμένῳ -ἐστί) yet are not predicated of any subject (I mean by a thing being -in a subject, that it is in any thing not as a part, but as unable -to subsist without that in which it is), as ‘a grammatical art’ (τὶς -γραμματική) is in a subject, ‘the soul,’ but cannot be predicated -of any,’ or related as genus to a subject. Some are predicated of -a subject (λέγεται) and are in it; science is in the soul and is -predicated of the grammatical art. Some again are neither in, nor are -predicated of any subject, as ‘a certain man,’ the individual, the -one in number; but some of them can be in a subject like ‘a certain -grammatical art.’” Instead of subject we should do better to speak of -substratum, for it is that to which the Notion necessarily relates, -_i.e._ that which is neglected in abstraction, and thus the individual -opposed to the Notion. We can see that Aristotle has the difference of -the genus or universal and the individual present to his mind. - -The first thing which Aristotle has indicated in the foregoing is thus -the genus, which is predicated of a man, but which is not in him, at -least not as a particular quality; the brave man, for example, is an -actual, but expressed as a universal conception. In formal logic and -its conceptions and definitions there is always present opposition -to an actual; and the logical actual is in itself something thought, -bravery thus being, for example, a pure form of abstraction. This logic -of the understanding seeks, however, in its three stages to imitate the -categories of the absolute. The conception or definition is a logical -actual, and thus in itself merely something thought, _i.e._ possible. -In the judgment this logic calls a conception A the actual subject -and connects with it another actual as the conception B; B is said to -be the conception and A to be dependent on it—but B is only the more -general conception. In the syllogism necessity is said to be simulated: -even in a judgment there is a synthesis of a conception and something -whose existence is assumed; in the syllogism it should bear the form -of necessity, because both the opposites are set forth in a third -as through the _medius terminus_ of reason, _e.g._ as was the case -with the mean of virtue (_supra_, p. 206). The major term expresses -logical being and the minor term logical potentiality, for Caius is a -mere potentiality for logic; the conclusion unites both. But it is to -reason that life first unfolds itself, for it is true reality. What -comes second in Aristotle is the universal, which is not the genus, -_i.e._ it is not in itself the unity of universal and particular—nor -is it absolute individuality and hence infinitude. This is the moment -or predicate in a subject certainly, but it is not absolutely in and -for itself. This relation is now expressed through οὐ λέγεται; for ὅ -λέγεται is that which, as universal in itself, is likewise infinite. -The third is the particular which is predicated: just as science in -itself is infinite and thus the genus, _e.g._ of the grammatical -art; but at the same time as universal, or as not individual, it is -the moment of a subject. The fourth indicated by Aristotle is what -is called immediate conception—the individual. The reservation that -something such as a definite grammatical art is also in a subject, has -no place here, for the definite grammatical art is not really in itself -individual. - -Aristotle, himself,[111] makes the following remarks on this matter: -“When one thing is predicated (κατηγορεῖται) of another, as of a -subject, whatever things are said (λέγεται) of the predicate,” _i.e._ -what is related to it as a universal, “may be also said of the -subject.” This is the ordinary conclusion; from this we see, since -this matter is so speedily despatched, that the real conclusion has -with Aristotle a much greater significance. “The different genera not -arranged under one another (μὴ ὑπ̓ ἄλλμλα τεταγμένα), such as ‘animal’ -and ‘science,’ differ in their species (διαφοράς). For instance, -animals are divided into beasts, bird, fishes—but science has no such -distinction. In subordinate genera, however, there may be the same -distinctions; for the superior genera are predicated of the inferior, -so that as many distinctions as there are of the predicate, so many -will there be of the subject.” - -After Aristotle had thus far spoken of what is enunciated respecting -that which is connected, or the complex, he now comes to “that which -is predicated without any connection,” or the incomplex; for as we -saw (p. 212) this was the division which he laid down in the second -chapter. That which is predicated without any connection he treats -of more fully as the categories proper, in what follows; yet the -work in which these categories are laid down is not to be regarded -as complete. Aristotle[112] takes ten of them; “Each conception -enunciated signifies either Substance (οὐσίαν), or Quality (ποιόν), or -Quantity (ποσόν),” matter, “or Relation (πρός τι), or Where (ποῦ), or -When (ποτέ), or Position (κεῖσθαι), or Possession (ἕχειν), or Action -(ποιεῖν), or Passion (πάσχειν). None of these is considered by itself -an affirmation (κατάφασις) or a negation (κατάφασις), _i.e._ none -is either true or false.” Aristotle adds to these predicables five -post predicaments, but he only ranges them all side by side.[113] The -categories of relation are the syntheses of quality and quantity, and -consequently they belonged to reason; but in as far as they are posited -as mere relation, they belong to the understanding and are forms of -finitude. Being, essence, takes the first place in them; next to it -is possibility, as accident or what is caused; the two are, however, -separated. In substance A is Being, B, potentiality; in the relation -of causality A and B are Being, but A is posited in B as being posited -in a postulation of A. A of substance is logical Being; it is its -essence opposed to its existence, and this existence is in logic mere -potentiality. In the category of causality the Being of A in B is a -mere Being of reflection; B is for itself another. But in reason A is -the Being of B as well as of A, and A is the whole Being of A as well -as of B. - -Aristotle[114] goes on to speak of Substance; first Substance, “in -its strictest (κυριώτατα), first and chief sense” is to him the -individual, the fourth class of the divisions enunciated above (pp. -212-214). “Secondary substances are those in which as species (εἴδεσι) -these first are contained, that is to say, both these and the genera -of these species. Of the subject both name and definition (λόγος) of -all things predicated of a subject (τῶν καθ̓ ὑποκειμένον λεγομένον)—of -secondary substances—are predicated; for example of the particular -man, as subject, both the name and the definition of ‘man’ (living -being) are also predicated. But of things which are in a subject (ἐν -ὑποκειμένῳ ὄντος) it is impossible to predicate the definition of -the” subordinate “subjects, yet with some we predicate the name: the -definition of ‘whiteness’ thus is not of the body in which it is, but -only the name. All other things however,” besides Definition (λόγος) -and “in most cases name, are related to primary substances as subjects” -(the individual), “or are inherent in them. Thus without the primary -substances none of the rest could exist, for they are the basis -(ὑποκεῖσθαι) of all else. Of secondary substances, species is more -substance than genus; for it is nearer to the primary substance, and -genus is predicated of the species and not the other way.” For species -is here the subject, or what does not always require to be something -really determined as individual, but which also signifies that which -is generally speaking subordinate. “But the species are not more -substance one than another, just as in primary substances one is not -more substance than the other. Species and genera are likewise, before -the rest” (qualities or accidents) “to be called secondary substances: -the definition ‘man’ before the fact that he is ‘white’ or ‘runs.’” -Abstraction has thus two kinds of objects; ‘man’ and ‘learned’ are both -qualities of a certain individual; but the former only abstracts from -the individuality and leaves the totality, and is thus the elevation -of the individual into the rational, where nothing is lost but the -opposition of reflection. “What is true of substances is also true -of differences; for as synonyms (συνώνυμα) they have both name and -definition in common.” - -_b._ The second treatise is on Interpretation (περὶ ἑρμηνείας); it is -the doctrine of judgments and propositions. Propositions exist where -affirmation and negation, falsehood and truth are enunciated;[115] they -do not relate to pure thought when reason itself thinks; they are not -universal but individual. - -_c._ The Analytics come third, and there are two parts of them, the -Prior and the Posterior; they deal most fully with proof (ἀπόδειξις) -and the syllogisms of the understanding. “The syllogism is a reason -(λόγος) in which if one thing is maintained, another than what was -maintained follows of necessity.”[116] Aristotle’s logic has treated -the general theory of conclusions in the main very accurately, but -they do not by any means constitute the universal form of truth; in -his metaphysics, physics, psychology, &c., Aristotle has not formed -conclusions, but thought the Notion in and for itself. - -_d._ The Topics (τοπικά) which treat of ‘places’ (τόποι) come fourth; -in them the points of view from which anything can be considered are -enumerated. Cicero and Giordano Bruno worked this out more fully. -Aristotle gives a large number of general points of view which can -be taken of an object, a proposition or a problem; each problem can -be directly reduced to these different points of view, that must -everywhere appear. Thus these ‘places’ are, so to speak, a system of -many aspects under which an object can be regarded in investigating it; -this constitutes a work which seems specially suitable and requisite -for the training of orators and for ordinary conversation, because the -knowledge of points of view at once places in our hands the possibility -of arriving at the various aspects of a subject, and embracing its -whole extent in accordance with these points of view (Vol. I. p. 358). -This, according to Aristotle, is the function of Dialectic, which he -calls an instrument for finding propositions and conclusions out of -probabilities.[117] Such ‘places’ are either of a general kind, such -as difference, similarity, opposition, relation, and comparison,[118] -or special in nature, such as ‘places’ which prove that something is -better or more to be desired, since in it we have the longer duration -of time, that which the one wise man or several would choose, the -genus as against the species, that which is desirable for itself; -also because it is present with the more honourable, because it is -end, what approximates to end, the more beautiful and praiseworthy, -&c.[119] Aristotle (Topic VIII. 2) says that we must make use of the -syllogism by preference, with the dialectician, but of induction with -the multitude. In the same way Aristotle separates[120] the dialectic -and demonstrative syllogisms from the rhetorical and every kind of -persuasion, but he counts induction as belonging to what is rhetorical. - -_e._ The fifth treatise, finally, deals with the Sophistical Elenchi -(σοφιστικοὶ ἔλεγχοι), or ‘On Refutations,’ as in the unconscious -escape of thought in its categories to the material side of popular -conception, it arrives at constant contradiction with itself. The -sophistical elenchi betray the unconscious ordinary idea into these -contradictions, and make it conscious of them, in order to entrap and -puzzle it; they were mentioned by us in connection with Zeno, and the -Sophists sought them out, but it was the Megarics who were specially -strong in them. Aristotle goes through a number of such contradictions -by the way of solving them; in so doing he proceeds quietly and -carefully, and spares no pains, though they might have been made more -dramatic. We have before (Vol. I. pp. 456-459) found specimens of these -in treating of the Megarics, and we have seen how Aristotle solves such -contradictions through distinction and determination. - -Of these five parts of the Aristotelian Organon, what is produced in -our ordinary systems of logic is, as a matter of fact, of the slightest -and most trivial description, consisting as it does mainly of what -is contained in the introduction of Porphyry. More particularly in -the first parts, in the Interpretation and in the Analytics, this -Aristotelian logic contains these representations of universal forms -of thought, such as are now dealt with in ordinary logic, and really -form the basis of what in modern times is known as logic. Aristotle has -rendered a never-ending service in having recognized and determined -the forms which thought assumes within us. For what interests us -is the concrete thought immersed as it is in externalities; these -forms constitute a net of eternal activity sunk within it, and the -operation of setting in their places those fine threads which are -drawn throughout everything, is a masterpiece of empiricism, and this -knowledge is absolutely valuable. Even contemplation, or a knowledge of -the numerous forms and modes assumed by this activity, is interesting -and important enough. For however dry and contentless the enumeration -of the different kinds of judgments and conclusions, and their numerous -limitations may appear to us to be, and though they may not seem to -serve their purpose of discovering the truth, at least no other -science in opposition to this one can be elevated into its place. For -instance, if it is held to be a worthy endeavour to gain a knowledge -of the infinite number of animals, such as one hundred and sixty-seven -kinds of cuckoo, in which one may have the tuft on his head differently -shaped from another, or to make acquaintance with some miserable new -species of a miserable kind of moss which is no better than a scab, or -with an insect, vermin, bug, &c., in some learned work on entomology, -it is much more important to be acquainted with the manifold kinds of -movement present in thought, than to know about such creatures. The -best of what is stated respecting the forms of judgment, conclusion, -&c., in ordinary logic, is taken from the works of Aristotle; as far as -details are concerned, much has been spun out and added to it, but the -truth is to be found with Aristotle. - -As regards the real philosophic nature of the Aristotelian logic, it -has received in our text-books a position and significance as though -it gave expression only to the activity of the understanding as -consciousness; hence it is said to direct us how to think correctly. -Thus it appears as though the movement of thought were something -independent, unaffected by the object of thought; in other words, as -if it contained the so-called laws of thought of our understanding, -through which we attain to perception, but through a medium which was -not the movement of things themselves. The result must certainly be -truth, so that things are constituted as we bring them forth according -to the laws of thought; but the manner of this knowledge has merely -a subjective significance, and the judgment and conclusion are not a -judgment and conclusion of things themselves. Now if, according to -this point of view, thought is considered on its own account, it does -not make its appearance implicitly as knowledge, nor is it without -content in and for itself; for it is a formal activity which certainly -is exercised, but whose content is one given to it. Thought in this -sense becomes something subjective; these judgments and conclusions -are in and for themselves quite true, or rather correct—this no one -ever doubted; but because content is lacking to them, these judgments -and conclusions do not suffice for the knowledge of the truth. Thus by -logicians they are held to be forms whose content is something entirely -different, because they have not even the form of the content; and the -meaning which is given to them—namely that they are forms—is found -fault with. The worst thing said of them, however, is that their only -error is their being formal; both the laws of thought as such, and -also its determinations, the categories, are either determinations of -the judgment only, or merely subjective forms of the understanding, -while the thing-in-itself is very different. But in that point of -view and in the blame awarded the truth itself is missed, for untruth -is the form of opposition between subject and object, and the lack -of unity in them; in this case the question is not put at all as to -whether anything is absolutely true or not. These determinations -have certainly no empirical content, but thought and its movement -is itself the content—and, indeed, as interesting a content as any -other that can be given; consequently this science of thought is on -its own account a true science. But here again we come across the -drawback pertaining to the whole Aristotelian manner, as also to all -succeeding logic—and that indeed in the highest degree—that in thought -and in the movement of thought as such, the individual moments fall -asunder; there are a number of kinds of judgment and conclusion, each -of which is held to be independent, and is supposed to have absolute -truth as such. Thus they are simply content, for they then have an -indifferent, undistinguished existence, such as we see in the famous -laws of contradiction, conclusions, &c. In this isolation they have, -however, no truth; for their totality alone is the truth of thought, -because this totality is at once subjective and objective. Thus they -are only the material of truth, the formless content; their deficiency -is hence not that they are only forms but rather that form is lacking -to them, and that they are in too great a degree content. Thus as many -individual qualities of a thing are not anything, such as red, hard, -&c., if taken by themselves, but only in their unity constitute a real -thing, so it is with the unity of the forms of judgment and conclusion, -which individually have as little truth as such a quality, or as a -rhythm or melody. The form of a conclusion, as also its content, may -be quite correct, and yet the conclusion arrived at may be untrue, -because this form as such has no truth of its own; but from this -point of view these forms have never been considered, and the scorn -of logic rests simply on the false assumption that there is a lack of -content. Now this content is none other than the speculative Idea. -Conceptions of the understanding or of reason constitute the essence -of things, not certainly for that point of view, but in truth; and -thus also for Aristotle the conceptions of the understanding, namely -the categories, constitute the essential realities of Being. If they -are thus in and for themselves true, they themselves are their own, -and thus the highest content. But in ordinary logic this is not the -case, and even as these are represented in the Aristotelian works -they are only universal thought-determinations, between which the -abstract understanding makes distinctions. This, however, is not the -logic of speculative thought, _i.e._ of reason as distinguished from -understanding; for there the identity of the understanding which -allows nothing to contradict itself is fundamental. However little -this logic of the finite may be speculative in nature, yet we must -make ourselves acquainted with it, for it is everywhere discovered in -finite relationships. There are many sciences, subjects of knowledge, -&c., that know and apply no other forms of thought than these forms of -finite thought, which constitute in fact the general method of dealing -with the finite sciences. Mathematics, for instance, is a constant -series of syllogisms; jurisprudence is the bringing of the particular -under the general, the uniting together of both these sides. Within -these relationships of finite determinations the syllogism has now, -indeed, on account of its terms being three in number, been called the -totality of these determinations, and hence by Kant (Kritik der reinen -Vernunft, p. 261) also the rational conclusion; but this syllogism -addressed to the intelligence as it appears in the ordinary logical -form, is only the intelligible form of rationality, and, as we saw -above (p. 76), is very different from the rational syllogism proper. -Aristotle is thus the originator of the logic of the understanding; its -forms only concern the relationship of finite to finite, and in them -the truth cannot be grasped. But it must be remarked that Aristotle’s -philosophy is not by any means founded on this relationship of the -understanding; thus it must not be thought that it is in accordance -with these syllogisms that Aristotle has thought. If Aristotle did so, -he would not be the speculative philosopher that we have recognized him -to be; none of his propositions could have been laid down, and he could -not have made any step forward, if he had kept to the forms of this -ordinary logic. - -Like the whole of Aristotle’s philosophy, his logic really requires -recasting, so that all his determinations should be brought into a -necessary systematic whole—not a systematic whole which is correctly -divided into its parts, and in which no part is forgotten, all being -set forth in their proper order, but one in which there is one living -organic whole, in which each part is held to be a part, and the whole -alone as such is true. Aristotle, in the Politics, for instance -(_supra_, pp. 207-208), often gives expression to this truth. For -this reason the individual logical form has in itself no truth, not -because it is the form of thought, but because it is determinate -thought, individual form, and to be esteemed as such. But as system -and absolute form ruling this content, thought has its content as a -distinction in itself, being speculative philosophy in which subject -and object are immediately identical, and the Notion and the universal -are the realities of things. Just as duty certainly expresses the -absolute, but, as determinate, a determinate absolute which is only -a moment and must be able again to abrogate its determination, the -logical form which abrogates itself as this determinate in this very -way gives up its claim to be in and for itself. But in this case logic -is the science of reason, speculative philosophy of the pure Idea -of absolute existence, which is not entangled in the opposition of -subject and object, but remains an opposition in thought itself. Yet we -certainly may allow that much in logic is an indifferent form. - -At this point we would leave off as far as the Aristotelian philosophy -is concerned, and from this it is difficult to break away. For the -further we go into its details, the more interesting it becomes, and -the more do we find the connection which exists among the subjects. -The fulness with which I have set forth the principal content of the -Aristotelian philosophy is justified both by the importance of the -matter itself, because it offers to us a content of its own, and also -by the circumstances already mentioned (p. 118), that against no -philosophy have modern times sinned so much as against this, and none -of the ancient philosophers have so much need of being defended as -Aristotle. - -One of the immediate followers of Aristotle was Theophrastus, -born Ol 102, 2 (371 B.C.); though a man of distinction, he can -still only be esteemed a commentator on Aristotle. For Aristotle -is so rich a treasure-house of philosophic conceptions, that much -material is found in him which is ready for further working upon, -which may be put forward more abstractly, and in which individual -propositions may be brought into prominence. However Aristotle’s -manner of procedure, which is to take an empirical starting point of -ratiocination [Raisonnement], and to comprehend this in the focus of -the speculative Notion, is characteristic of his mind, without being -one which, on its own account, can be freely elevated into a method -and a principle. Thus of Theophrastus as of many others (Dicæarchus -of Messina, for instance), amongst whom Strato of Lampsacus, the -successor of Theophrastus, is best known, there is not much to tell. -As regards Dicæarchus, Cicero says, (Tusc. Quæst. I. 31, 10) that he -controverted the immortality of the soul, for he asserted that “the -soul is no more than an empty name, and the whole of the capacities -and powers with which we act and feel are equally extended over all -living bodies, and inseparable from the body; for it is nothing -but the body so constituted as to live and feel through a certain -symmetry and proportion in its body.” Cicero gives in an historical -manner a result as he made it comprehensible to himself, without any -speculative conception. Stobæus (Eclog. phys. p. 796), on the other -hand, quotes from Dicæarchus that he held the soul to be “a harmony of -the four elements.” We have only a little general information to give -of Strato, that he acquired great fame as a physicist, and that his -conception of nature went upon mechanical lines, and yet not on those -of Leucippus and Democritus, and later, of Epicurus; for, according to -Stobæus (Eclog. phys. p. 298), he made warmth and cold into elements. -Hence, if what is said of him is accurate, he was most unfaithful to -the beliefs of Aristotle, because he led everything back to mechanism -and chance and did away with the immanent end, without accepting the -false teleology of modern times. At least, Cicero (De nat. Deor. I. 13) -relates of him that he maintained that “divine strength lies altogether -in nature, which has in itself the causes of origination, of growth, -and of decay, but lacks all sensation and conformation.” The other -Peripatetics occupied themselves more with working up individual -doctrines of Aristotle, with bringing out his works in a commentated -form, which is more or less rhetorical in character, though similar -in content. But in practical life the Peripatetic school maintained -as the principle of happiness, the unity of reason and inclination. -We thus may set aside any further expansion of the Peripatetic -philosophy, because it has no longer the same interest, and later on -tended to become a popular philosophy (Vol. I. p. 479, Vol. II. p. -130); in this mode it no longer remained an Aristotelian philosophy, -although this, too, as what is really speculative, must coincide most -closely with actuality. This decay of the Aristotelian philosophy is, -indeed, closely connected with the circumstance already mentioned (pp. -126-128), that the Aristotelian writings soon disappeared, and that the -Aristotelian philosophy did not retain its place so much through these -documents as through the traditions in the school, whereby they soon -underwent material changes; and amplifications of Aristotle’s doctrines -were brought about, as to which it is not known whether some may not -have slipped into what pass for his works. - -Since Aristotle’s leading thought has penetrated all spheres of -consciousness, and this isolation in the determination through the -Notion, because it is likewise necessary, contains in every sphere -the profoundest of true thoughts, Aristotle, to anticipate here the -external history of his philosophy as a whole, for many centuries -was the constant mainstay of the cultivation of thought. When in the -Christian West science disappeared amongst the Christians, the fame -of Aristotle shone forth with equal brilliance amongst the Arabians, -from whom, in later times, his philosophy was again passed over to the -West. The triumph which was celebrated upon the revival of learning, -on account of the Aristotelian philosophy having been expelled from -the schools, from the sciences, and specially from theology, as from -the philosophy which deals with absolute existence, must be regarded -in two different aspects. In the first place we must remember that -it was not the Aristotelian philosophy which was expelled, so much -as the principle of the science of theology which supported itself -thereon, according to which the first truth is one which is given and -revealed—an hypothesis which is once for all a fundamental one, and by -which reason and thought have the right and power to move to and fro -only superficially. In this form the thought which was awakened in the -Middle Ages reconstructed its theology more especially, entered into -all dialectic movements and determinations, and erected an edifice -where the material that was given was only superficially worked up, -disposed and secured. The triumph over this system was thus a triumph -over that principle, and consequently the triumph of free, spontaneous -thought. But another side of this triumph is the triumph of the -commonplace point of view that broke free from the Notion and shook off -the yoke of thought. Formerly, and even nowadays, enough has been heard -of Aristotle’s scholastic subtleties; in using this name, men thought -that they had a right to spare themselves from entering on abstraction, -and, in place of the Notion, they thought that it justified them -in seeing, hearing, and thus making their escape to what is called -healthy human understanding. In science, too, in place of subtle -thoughts, subtle sight has commenced; a beetle or a species of bird is -distinguished with as great minuteness as were formerly conceptions and -thoughts. Such subtleties as whether a species of bird is red or green -in colour, or has a more or less perfect tail, are found more easy than -the differences in thought; and in the meantime, until a people has -educated itself up to the labour of thought, in order to be able thus -to support the universal, the former is a useful preparation, or rather -it is a moment in this course of culture. - -But inasmuch as the deficiency in the Aristotelian philosophy rests in -the fact, that after the manifold of phenomena was through it raised -into the Notion, though this last again fell asunder into a succession -of determinate Notions, the unity of the absolute Notion which unites -them was not emphasized, and this is what succeeding time had to -accomplish. What now appears is that the unity of the Notion which is -absolute existence, makes its appearance as necessity, and it presents -itself first as the unity of self-consciousness and consciousness, as -pure thought. The unity of existence as existence is objective unity, -thought, as that which is thought. But unity, as Notion, the implicitly -universal negative unity, time as absolutely fulfilled time, and in its -fulfilment as being unity, is pure self-consciousness. Hence we see it -come to pass, that pure self-consciousness makes itself reality, but, -at the same time, it first of all does so with subjective significance -as a self-consciousness that has taken up its position as such, and -that separates itself from objective existence, and hence is first of -all subject to a difference which it does not overcome. - -Here we have concluded the first division of Greek philosophy, and -we have now to pass to the second period. The first period of Greek -philosophy extended to Aristotle, to the attainment of a scientific -form in which knowledge has reached the standing of free thought. Thus -in Plato and Aristotle the result was the Idea; yet we saw in Plato -the universal made the principle in a somewhat abstract way as the -unmoved Idea; in Aristotle, on the other hand, thought in activity -became absolutely concrete as the thought which thinks itself. The next -essential, one which now is immediately before us, must be contained in -that into which Philosophy under Plato and Aristotle had formed itself. -This necessity is none other than the fact that the universal must now -be proclaimed free for itself as the universality of the principle, so -that the particular may be recognized through this universal; or the -necessity of a systematic philosophy immediately enters in, what we -formerly called one in accordance with the unity of the Notion. We -may speak of the Platonic and Aristotelian systems, but they are not -in the form of a system; for that it is requisite that one principle -should be maintained and consistently carried through the particular. -In the perfect complex of the conception of the universe as it is -to Aristotle, where everything is in the highest form of scientific -knowledge led back to what is speculative, however empiric may be his -manner of setting to work, there certainly is one principle brought -forward, and that a speculative one, though it is not brought forward -as being one. The nature of the speculative has not been explicitly -brought to consciousness as the Notion—as containing in itself the -development of the manifold nature of the natural and spiritual -universe, consequently it is not set forth as the universal, from which -the particular was developed. Aristotle’s logic is really the opposite -of this. He in great measure passes through a series of the living -and the dead, makes them confront his objective, that is, conceiving -thought, and grasps them in his understanding; each object is on its -own account a conception which is laid open in its determinations, -and yet he also brings these reflections together, and thereby is -speculative. If even Plato on the whole proceeded in an empiric way, -taking up this and that idea, each of which is in turn examined, with -Aristotle this loose method of procedure appears still more clearly. In -the Aristotelian teaching the Idea of the self-reflecting thought is -thus grasped as the highest truth; but its realization, the knowledge -of the natural and spiritual universe, constitutes outside of that -Idea a long series of particular conceptions, which are external -to one another, and in which a unifying principle, led through the -particular, is wanting. The highest Idea with Aristotle consequently -once more stands only as a particular in its own place and without -being the principle of his whole philosophy. Hence the next necessity -in Philosophy is that the whole extent of what is known must appear as -one organization of the Notion; that in this way the manifold reality -may be related to that Idea as the universal, and thereby determined. -This is the standpoint which we find in this second period. - -A systematic philosophy such as this becomes in the first place -dogmatism, in antagonism to which, because of its one-sided character, -scepticism immediately arises. In the same way the French call -what is dogmatic _systématique_, and _système_ that in which all -the conceptions must consistently proceed from one determination; -hence to them _systématique_ is synonymous with one-sided. But the -philosophies that ensue are one-sided, because in them it was only the -necessity of one principle that was recognized, without their meanwhile -developing from themselves, as might well have come to pass in and -for itself, the Idea as the real universal, and thus comprehending -the world in such a way that the content is only grasped as the -determination of the self-reflective thought. Hence this principle -stands up formally and abstractly, and the particular is not yet -deduced from it, for the universal is only applied to the particular -and the rules for this application sought out. In Aristotle the Idea -is at least implicitly concrete, as the consciousness of the unity of -subjective and objective, and therefore it is not one-sided. Should -the Idea be truly concrete, the particular must be developed from -it. The other relation would be the mere bringing of the particular -under the universal, so that both should be mutually distinguished; -in such a case the universal is only a formal principle, and such a -philosophy is therefore one-sided. But the true difficulty is that the -two endeavours, the development of the particular from the Idea, and -the bringing of the particular under the universal, collide with one -another. The manifestations of the physical and spiritual world must -first, from their respective sides, be prepared for and worked into the -Notion, so that the other sciences can form therefrom universal laws -and principles. Then for the first time can speculative reason present -itself in determinate thoughts, and bring perfectly to consciousness -the inwardly existing connection between them. As dogmatic, however, -those philosophies, it may be further said, are assertive likewise, -because in such a method the principle is only asserted and is not -truly proved. For a principle is demanded under which everything is -subsumed; thus it is only pre-supposed as the first principle. Before -this we have had abstract principles such as pure Being, but here the -particular, with which begins the distinction from what is different, -became posited as the purely negative. That necessity, on the other -hand, makes for a universal which must likewise be in the particular, -so that this should not be set aside, but should have its determinate -character through the universal. - -This demand for a universal, even though still unproved principle, -is henceforth present to knowledge. What answers to this demand -now appears in the world through the inward necessity of mind—not -externally, but as being in conformity with the Notion. This necessity -has produced the philosophy of the Stoics, Epicureans, New Academy, and -Sceptics, which we have now to consider. If we have remained too long -in the consideration of this period, we may now make amends for this -protraction, for in the next period we may be brief. - - - - -SECTION TWO - -SECOND PERIOD: DOGMATISM AND SCEPTICISM. - - -IN this second period, which precedes the Alexandrian philosophy, we -have to consider Dogmatism and Scepticism—the Dogmatism which separates -itself into the two philosophies, the Stoic and the Epicurean; and the -third philosophy, of which both partake and which yet differs from them -both, Scepticism. Along with this last we would take the New Academy, -which has entirely merged in it—while in the Older Academy, Plato’s -philosophy indubitably still maintained its purity. We saw at the -close of the previous period the consciousness of the Idea, or of the -Universal, which is an end in itself—a principle, universal indeed, -but at the same time determined in itself, which is thus capable of -subsuming the particular, and of being applied thereto. The application -of universal to particular is here the relationship that prevails, for -the reflection that from the universal itself the separation of the -totality is developed, is not yet present. There always is in such a -relationship the necessity of a system and of systematization; that -is to say, one determinate principle must consistently be applied to -the particular, so that the truth of all that is particular should be -determined according to this abstract principle, and be at the same -time likewise recognized. Now since this is what we have in so-called -Dogmatism, it is a philosophizing of the understanding, in which -Plato’s and Aristotle’s speculative greatness is no longer present. - -In respect of this relationship, the task of Philosophy now comes to -be summed up in the twofold question which we spoke of earlier (Vol. -I. pp. 474, 475), and which has regard to a criterion of truth and to -the wise man. At this point we may better than before, and also from a -different point of view, explain the necessity for this phenomenon. For -because truth has now become conceived as the harmony of thought and -reality, or rather as the identity of the Notion, as the subjective, -with the objective, the first question is what the universal principle -for judging and determining this harmony is; but a principle through -which the true is judged (κρίνεται) to be true, is simply the -criterion. Yet because this question had only been formally and -dogmatically answered, the dialectic of Scepticism, or the knowledge of -the one-sidedness of this principle as a dogmatic principle, at once -appeared. A further result of this mode of philosophizing is that the -principle, as formal, is subjective, and consequently it has taken the -real significance of the subjectivity of self-consciousness. Because -of the external manner in which the manifold is received, the highest -point, that in which thought finds itself in its most determinate -form, is self-consciousness. The pure relation of self-consciousness -to itself is thus the principle in all these philosophies, since in it -alone does the Idea find satisfaction, just as the formalism of the -understanding of the present so-called philosophizing seeks to find its -fulfilment, the concrete which is opposed to this formalism, in the -subjective heart, in the inward feelings and beliefs. Nature and the -political world are certainly also concrete, but externally concrete; -the arbitrary concrete is, on the other hand, not in the determinate -universal Idea, but only in self-consciousness and as being personal. -The second ruling determination is consequently that of the wise men. -Not reason alone, but everything must be something thought, that is, -subjectively speaking, my thought; that which is thought, on the -contrary, is only implicit, that is to say, it is itself objective -in so far as it appears in the form of the formal identity of thought -with itself. The thought of the criterion as of the one principle -is, in its immediate actuality, the subject itself; thought and the -thinker are thus immediately connected. Because the principle of this -philosophy is not objective but dogmatic, and rests on the impulse of -self-consciousness towards self-satisfaction, it is the subject whose -interests are to be considered. The subject seeks on its own account a -principle for its freedom, namely, immovability in itself; it must be -conformable to the criterion, _i.e._ to this quite universal principle, -in order to be able to raise itself into this abstract independence. -Self-consciousness lives in the solitude of its thought, and finds -therein its satisfaction. These are the fundamental determinations in -the following philosophies: the exposition of their main principles -will come next, but to go into details is not advisable. - -Although, as no doubt is the case, these philosophies, as regards -their origin, pertain to Greece, and their great teachers were -always Greeks, they were yet transferred to the Roman world; thus -Philosophy passed into the Roman world and these systems in particular -constituted under Roman rule the philosophy of the Roman world, in -opposition to which world, unsuited as it was to the rational practical -self-consciousness, this last, driven back into itself from external -actuality, could only seek for reason in itself and could only care -for its individuality—just as abstract Christians only care for their -own salvation. In the bright Grecian world the individual attached -himself more to his state or to his world, and was more at home in -it. The concrete morality, the impulse towards the introduction of -the principle into the world through the constitution of the state, -which we see in Plato, the concrete science that we find in Aristotle, -here disappear. In the wave of adversity which came across the Roman -world, everything beautiful and noble in spiritual individuality -was rudely swept away. In this condition of disunion in the world, -when man is driven within his inmost self, he has to seek the unity -and satisfaction, no longer to be found in the world, in an abstract -way. The Roman world is thus the world of abstraction, where one -cold rule was extended over all the civilized world. The living -individualities of national spirit in the nations have been stifled -and killed; a foreign power, as an abstract universal, has pressed -hard upon individuals. In such a condition of dismemberment it was -necessary to fly to this abstraction as to the thought of an existent -subject, that is, to this inward freedom of the subject as such. As -what was held in estimation was the abstract will of the individual -ruler of the world, the inward principle of thought also had to be an -abstraction which could bring forth a formal, subjective reconciliation -only. A dogmatism erected on a principle made effectual through the -form of the understanding could alone satisfy the Roman mind. These -philosophies are thus conformable to the spirit of the Roman world, -as indeed Philosophy in general ever stands in close connection with -the world in its ordinary aspect (Vol. I. pp. 53, 54). The Roman world -has, indeed, produced a formal patriotism and corresponding virtue, as -also a developed system of law; but speculative philosophy could not -proceed from such dead material—we could only expect good advocates -and the morality of a Tacitus. These philosophies, always excepting -Stoicism, also arose amongst the Romans in opposition to their ancient -superstitions, just as now Philosophy comes forward in the place of -religion. - -The three principles of Stoicism, Epicureanism and Scepticism are -necessary; in the first there is the principle of thought or of -universality itself, but yet determined in itself; the abstract -thought is here the determining criterion of the truth. There is -opposed to thought, in the second place, the determinate as such, the -principle of individuality, feeling generally, sensuous perception and -observation. These two form the principles of the Stoic and Epicurean -philosophies. Both principles are one-sided and, as positive, become -sciences of the understanding; just because this thought is not in -itself concrete but abstract, the determinateness falls outside of -thought and must be made a principle for itself; for it has an absolute -right as against abstract thought. Besides Stoicism and Epicureanism, -there is, in the third place, Scepticism, the negation of these two -one-sided philosophies which must be recognized as such. The principle -of Scepticism is thus the active negation of every criterion, of all -determinate principles of whatever kind they be, whether knowledge -derived from the senses, or from reflection on ordinary conceptions, or -from thought. Thus the next result arrived at is that nothing can be -known. Yet the imperturbability and uniformity of mind in itself, which -suffers through nothing, and which is affected neither by enjoyment, -pain, nor any other bond, is the common standpoint and the common -end of all these philosophies. Thus however gloomy men may consider -Scepticism, and however low a view they take of Epicureanism, all these -have in this way been philosophies. - - -A. THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE STOICS. - -We must, first of all, and in a general way, remark of Stoicism, as -also of Epicureanism, that they came in the place of the philosophy -of the Cynics and Cyrenaics as their counterpart, just as Scepticism -took the place of the Academy. But in adopting the principle of these -philosophies, they at the same time perfected it and elevated it -more into the form of scientific thought. Yet because in them, just -as in the others, the content is a fixed and definite one, since -self-consciousness therein sets itself apart, this circumstance really -puts an end to speculation, which knows nothing of any such rigidity, -which rather abolishes it and treats the object as absolute Notion, -as in its difference an unseparated whole. Hence with the Stoics, as -also really with the Epicureans, instead of genuine speculation, we -only meet with an application of the one-sided, limited principle, -and thus we require in both to enter merely upon a general view of -their principle. Now if Cynicism made reality for consciousness the -fact of being immediately natural (where immediate naturalness was -the simplicity of the individual, so that he is independent and, -in the manifold movement of desire, of enjoyment, of holding many -things to be reality, and of working for the same, really keeps up -the external simple life) the Stoic elevation of this simplicity into -thought consists in the assertion, not that immediate naturalness -and spontaneity is the content and the form of the true Being of -consciousness, but that the rationality of nature is grasped through -thought, so that everything is true or good in the simplicity of -thought. But while with Aristotle what underlies everything is the -absolute Idea as unlimited and not set forth in a determinate character -and with a difference—and its deficiency is only the deficiency which -is present in realization, the not being united into one Notion—here -the one Notion is undoubtedly set forth as real existence, and -everything is related to it, and hence the requisite relation is -undoubtedly present; but that in which everything is one is not the -true. With Aristotle each conception is considered absolutely in its -determination and as separate from any other; here the conception -certainly is in this relation and is not absolute, but at the same -time it is not in and for itself. Because thus the individual is not -considered absolutely but only relatively, the whole working out is -not interesting, for it is only an external relation. Likewise with -Aristotle the individual only is taken into consideration, but this -consideration is lost sight of by the speculative treatment adopted: -here, however, the individual is taken up and the treatment is likewise -external. This relation is not even consistent, if, as also happens, -something such as nature is considered in itself; for the absolute -falls outside of it, since its consideration is only a system of -reasoning from indeterminate principles, or from principles which are -only the first that come to hand. - -As a contribution to the history of the philosophy of the Stoics, we -first of all desire to mention the more eminent Stoics. The founder of -the Stoic School is Zeno (who must be distinguished from the Eleatic); -he belonged to Cittium, a town in Cyprus, and was born about the 109th -Olympiad. His father was a merchant who, from his business visits to -Athens, then, and for long afterwards, the home of Philosophy and of -a large number of philosophers, brought with him books, particularly -those of the Socratics, whereby a love and craving for knowledge was -awakened in his son. Zeno himself travelled to Athens, and, according -to some, he found a further motive to live for Philosophy, in that he -lost all his possessions by a shipwreck. What he did not lose was the -cultured nobility of his mind and his love of rational understanding. -Zeno visited several sections of the Socratics, and particularly -Xenocrates, a man belonging to the Platonic School, who, on account -of the strictness of his morality and the austerity of his whole -demeanour, was very celebrated. Thus he underwent the same ordeals -as those to which the holy Francis of Assisi subjected himself, and -succumbed to them just as little. This may be seen by the fact that -while no testimony was given without oath in Athens, the oath was in -his case dispensed with, and his simple word believed—and his teacher -Plato is said often to have remarked to him that he might sacrifice to -the Graces. Then Zeno also visited Stilpo, a Megaric, whom we already -know about (Vol. I. p. 464), and with whom he studied dialectic for -ten years. Philosophy was considered as the business of his life, -and of his whole life, and not studied as it is by a student who -hurries through his lectures on Philosophy in order to hasten on to -something else. But although Zeno principally cultivated dialectic -and practical philosophy, he did not, like other Socratics, neglect -physical philosophy, for he studied very specially Heraclitus’ work on -Nature, and finally came forward as an independent teacher in a porch -called Poecile (στοὰ ποικίλη), which was decorated with the paintings -of Polygnotus. From this his school received the name of Stoic. Like -Aristotle his principal endeavour was to unite Philosophy into one -whole. As his method was characterized by special dialectic skill and -training, and by the acuteness of his argumentation, so he himself was -distinguished, in respect of his personality, by stern morality, which -resembles somewhat that of the Cynics, though he did not, like the -Cynics, try to attract attention. Hence with less vanity his temperance -in the satisfaction of his absolute wants was almost as great, for he -lived on nothing but water, bread, figs and honey. Thus amongst his -contemporaries Zeno was accorded general respect; even King Antigonus -of Macedonia often visited him and dined with him, and he invited -him to come to him in a letter quoted by Diogenes: this invitation, -however, Zeno in his reply refused, because he was now eighty years of -age. But the circumstance that the Athenians trusted to him the key of -their fortress, speaks for the greatness of their confidence in him; -indeed, according to Diogenes, the following resolution was passed at -a meeting of the people: “Because Zeno, the son of Mnaseas, has lived -for many years in our town as a philosopher, and, for the rest, has -proved himself to be a good man, and has kept the youths who followed -him in paths of virtue and of temperance, having led the way thereto -with his own excellent example, the citizens decide to confer on him -a public eulogy, and to present him with a golden crown, on account -both of his virtue and his temperance. In addition to this he shall be -publicly buried in the Ceramicus. And for the crown and the building -of the tomb, a commission of five men shall be appointed.” Zeno -flourished about the 120th Olympiad (about 300 B.C.) at the same time -as Epicurus, Arcesilaus of the New Academy, and others. He died at a -great age, being ninety-eight years of age (though some say he was only -seventy-two), in the 129th Olympiad; for being tired of life, he put an -end to it himself either by strangulation or by starvation—just because -he had broken his toe.[121] - -Amongst the succeeding Stoics Cleanthes must be specially singled out; -he was a disciple and the successor of Zeno in the Stoa, and author -of a celebrated Hymn to God, which Stobæus has preserved. He is well -known by an anecdote told respecting him. It is said that he was called -in accordance with the law before a court of justice in Athens to -give an account of the means by which he maintained himself. He then -proved that at night he carried water for a gardener, and by means of -this occupation, earned as much as he required in order in the day to -be in Zeno’s company—as to which the only point which is not quite -comprehensible to us is how, even in such a way, philosophy, of all -things, could be studied. And when for this a gratuity was voted to him -from the public treasury, he refused it at Zeno’s instigation. Like his -teacher, Cleanthes also died voluntarily, in his eighty-first year, by -abstaining from food.[122] - -Of the later Stoics there were many more who could be named as having -been famous. More distinguished in science than Cleanthes was his -disciple, Chrysippus of Cilicia, born Ol. 125, 1 (474 A.U.C.; 280 -B.C.), who likewise lived in Athens, and who was specially active -in promoting the wide cultivation and extension of the philosophy -of the Stoics. His logic and dialectic were what contributed most -largely to his fame, and hence it was said that if the gods made use -of dialectic, they would use none other than that of Chrysippus. His -literary activity is likewise admired, for the number of his works, as -Diogenes Laërtius tells us, amounted to seven hundred and five. It is -said of him in this regard that he wrote five hundred lines every day. -But the manner in which his writings were composed detracts very much -from our wonder at this facility in writing, and shows that most of his -works consisted of compilations and repetitions. He often wrote over -again respecting the very same thing; whatever occurred to him he put -down on paper, dragging in a great variety of evidence. Thus he quoted -almost entire books by other writers; and someone gave expression to -the belief that if all that belonged to others were taken away from his -books, only white paper would be left. But of course it is not so bad -as all this, as we may see by all the quotations from the Stoics, where -the name of Chrysippus is placed at the head, as it always is, and his -conclusions and explanations are used by preference. His writings, -of which Diogenes Laërtius mentions a long list, have, however, all -been lost to us; so much is nevertheless correct, that he was the main -constructor of the Stoic logic. While it is to be regretted that some -of his best works have not come down to us, it is, perhaps, a good -thing that all are not preserved; if we had to choose between having -all or none, the decision would be a hard one. He died in the 143rd -Olympiad (212 B.C.).[123] - -In the period immediately following, Diogenes of Seleucia in Babylonia -is a distinguished figure; Carneades, the celebrated Academic, is said -to have learned dialectic from him, and he is also noteworthy because -with this Carneades and Critolaus, a Peripatetic thinker, in Olympiad -156, 2 (598 A.U.C., or 156 B.C.) and in the time of the elder Cato, he -was sent as Athenian ambassador to Rome—an embassy which first caused -the Romans to make acquaintance with Greek philosophy, dialectic and -rhetoric, in Rome itself. For those philosophers there gave lectures -and discourses.[124] - -Besides these, Panaetius is well known as having been Cicero’s -instructor; the latter wrote his treatise, _De Officiis_, after -Panaetius. Finally, we have Posidonius, another equally famous teacher, -who lived for long in Rome in the time of Cicero.[125] - -Later on we see the philosophy of the Stoics pass over to the Romans, -that is to say, it became the philosophy of many Romans, though this -philosophy did not gain anything as a science by so doing. On the -contrary, as in the case of Seneca and the later Stoics, in Epictetus -or Antoninus, all speculative interest was really lost, and a -rhetorical and hortatory disposition shown, of which mention cannot be -made in a history of Philosophy any more than of our sermons. Epictetus -of Hierapolis in Phrygia, born at the end of the first century after -Christ, was first of all the slave of Epaphroditus, who, however, freed -him, after which he betook himself to Rome. When Domitian banished -the philosophers, poisoners and astrologers from Rome (94 A.D.), -Epictetus went to Nicopolis, in Epirus, and taught there publicly. -From his lectures Arrian compiled the voluminous _Dissertationes -Epicteteæ_, which we still possess, and also the manual ἐγχειρίδιον of -Stoicism.[126] We still have the Meditations εἰς ἑαυτόν of the Emperor -Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, in twelve books; he first of all ruled -along with Lucius Aurelius Verus from 161 to 169 A.D., and then from -169 to 180 alone and he conducted a war with the Marcomanni. In his -Meditations he always speaks to himself; these reflections are not, -however, speculative in nature, being admonitions, such as that man -should exercise himself in every virtue. - -We have no other original works by the older Stoics. For the Stoic -Philosophy, too, the sources on which we formerly could count are cut -off. The sources from which a knowledge of the philosophy of the Stoics -is to be derived are, however, well known. There is Cicero, who was -himself a Stoic, though in his representation there is great difficulty -in discovering how, for instance, the principle of Stoic morality is -to be distinguished from that which constitutes the principle of the -morality of the Peripatetics. And, more particularly, we have Sextus -Empiricus, whose treatment is mainly theoretic, and is thus interesting -from a philosophic point of view. For Scepticism has had to do with -Stoicism more especially. But also Seneca, Antoninus, Arrian, the -manual of Epictetus, and Diogenes Laërtius must really be called into -council. - -As regards the philosophy of the Stoics themselves, they definitely -separated it into those three parts which we have already met with -(Vol. I. p. 387, Vol. II. pp. 48, 49), and which will, generally -speaking, be always found. There is Logic in the first place; secondly, -Physics, or Natural Philosophy; and thirdly, Ethics, or the Philosophy -of Mind, on the practical side especially. The content of their -philosophy has, however, not much that is original or productive. - - -1. PHYSICS. - -As regards the Physics of the Stoics, we may in the first place say -that it does not contain much that is peculiar to itself, since it is -rather a compendium of the Physics of older times, and more especially -of that of Heraclitus. However, each of the three schools now being -dealt with has had a very characteristic and definite terminology, -which is more than can be altogether said of the philosophy of Plato -and Aristotle. Thus we must now make ourselves familiar with the -particular expressions used and with their significance. The following -is the essence of the Physics of the Stoics: The determining reason -(λόγος) is the ruling, all-productive substance and activity, extended -throughout all, and constituting the basis of all natural forms; this -preponderating substance, in its rational effectuating activity, they -call God. It is a world-soul endowed with intelligence, and, since -they called it God, this is really Pantheism. But all Philosophy is -pantheistic, for it goes to prove that the rational Notion is in the -world. The hymn of Cleanthes is to this effect: “Nothing happens on -earth without thee, O Dæmon, neither in the ethereal pole of the -heavens, nor in the sea, excepting what the wicked do through their own -foolishness. But thou knowest how to make crooked things straight, and -thou orderest that which is without order, and the inimical is friendly -to thee. For thus hast thou united everything into one, the good to -the evil; thus one Notion (λόγος) is in everything that ever was, from -which those mortals who are evil flee. How unhappy are they, too, who, -ever longing to possess the good, do not perceive God’s universal law, -nor listen thereto, the which if they but obeyed with reason, (σὺν νῷ) -they would attain a good and happy life!”[127] The Stoics thus believed -the study of nature to be essential, in order to know in nature its -universal laws, which constitute the universal reason, in order that -we might also know therefrom our duties, the law for man, and live -conformably to the universal laws of nature. “Zeno,” according to -Cicero (De nat. Deor. I. 14), “holds this natural law to be divine, and -believes that it has the power to dictate the right and prohibit what -is wrong.” Thus the Stoics desired to know this rational Notion which -rules in nature not altogether on its own account; and the study of -nature was consequently to them rather a mere matter of utility. - -If we are now to give some further idea of what these Physics are, we -may say that the Stoics distinguish in the corporeal—although nature -is only the manifestation of one common law—the moment of activity -and that of passivity; the former is, according to Aristotle, active -reason, or, according to Spinoza, _natura naturans_; the latter passive -reason, or _natura naturata_. The latter is matter, substance without -quality, for quality is, generally speaking, form, _i.e._ that which -forms universal matter into something particular. This is indeed the -reason likewise that with the Greeks quality is called τὸ ποιόν, just -as we in German derive _Beschaffenheit_ from _Schaffen_—that which is -posited, the negative moment. But the actuating, as the totality of -forms, is, according to the Stoics, the Notion in matter; and this is -God. (Diog. Laërt. VII. 134.) - -As regards the further nature of these forms, these universal laws of -nature, and the formation of the world, the Stoics have in the main -adopted the ideas of Heraclitus, for Zeno studied him very particularly -(_supra_, p. 239). They thus make fire the real Notion, the active -principle which passes into the other elements as its forms. The -world arises by the self-existent gods driving the universal material -substance (οὐσίαν) out of the fire, through the air, into the water; -and as in all generation the moisture which surrounds a seed comes -first as the begetter of all that is particular, so that conception, -which in this respect is called seed-containing (σπερματικός), remains -in the water and then actuates the indeterminate Being of matter into -the origination of the other determinations. The elements, fire, water, -air and earth, are consequently primary. Respecting them the Stoics -speak in a manner which has no longer any philosophic interest. -“The coagulation of the denser parts of the world forms the earth; -the thinner portion becomes air, and if this becomes more and more -rarefied, it produces fire. From the combination of these elements are -produced plants, animals, and other kinds of things.” The thinking -soul is, according to them, of a similar fiery nature, and all human -souls, the animal principle of life, and also plants, are parts of -the universal world-soul, of the universal fire; and this central -point is that which rules and impels. Or, as it is put, souls are a -fiery breath. Sight, in the same way, is a breath of the ruling body -(ἡγεμονικοῦ) transmitted to the eyes; similarly hearing is an extended, -penetrating breath, sent from the ruling body to the ears.[128] - -Respecting the process of nature we may further say this: Fire, Stobæus -tells us (Eclog. phys. I. p. 312), is called by the Stoics an element -in a pre-eminent sense, because from it, as the primary element, all -else arises through a transformation, and in it, as in an ultimate, -everything is fused and becomes dissolved. Thus Heraclitus and Stoicism -rightly comprehended this process as a universal and eternal one. This -has even been done by Cicero, though in a more superficial way; in -this reflection he falsely sees the conflagration of the world in time -and the end of the world, which is quite another matter. For in his -work _De natura Deorum_ (II. 46) he makes a Stoic speak thus: “In the -end (_ad extremum_) everything will be consumed by fire; for if all -moisture becomes exhausted the earth can neither be nourished, nor can -air return into existence. Thus nothing but fire remains, through whose -reanimation and through God the world will be renewed and the same -order will return.” This is spoken after the manner of the ordinary -conception. But to the Stoics everything is merely a Becoming. However -deficient this may be, God, as the fiery principle, is yet to them -the whole activity of nature, and likewise the rational order of the -same, and in this lies the perfect pantheism of the Stoic conception of -nature. Not only do they call this ordering force God, but also nature, -fate or necessity (εἱμαρμένην), likewise Jupiter, the moving force of -matter, reason (νοῦν) and foresight (πρόνοιαν); to them all these are -synonymous.[129] Because the rational brings forth all, the Stoics -compare this impelling activity to a seed, and say: “The seed which -sends forth something rational (λογικόν) is itself rational. The world -sends forth the seeds of the rational and is thus in itself rational;” -that is to say, rational both generally, in the whole, and in each -particular existent form. “All beginning of movement in any nature and -soul rises from a ruling principle, and all powers which are sent forth -upon the individual parts of the whole proceed from the ruling power as -from a source; so that each force that is in the part is also in the -whole, because the force is distributed by the ruling power in it. The -world embraces the seed-containing conceptions of the life which is in -conformity with the conception,” _i.e._ all particular principles.[130] -The Physics of the Stoics is thus Heraclitean, though the logical -element is entirely at one with Aristotle; and we may regard it as -being such. However, speaking generally, only those belonging to -earlier times had a physical element in their philosophy: those coming -later neglected Physics entirely and kept alone to Logic and to Ethics. - -The Stoics again speak of God and the gods according to the popular -manner of regarding them. They say that “God is the ungenerated and -imperishable maker of all this disposition of things, who after certain -periods of time absorbs all substance in Himself, and then reproduces -it from Himself.”[131] There no definite perception is reached, and -even the above relation of God, as absolute form, to matter has -attained no developed clearness. The universe is at one time the unity -of form and matter, and God is the soul of the world; at another time, -the universe, as nature, is the Being of the constituted matter, -and that soul is antagonistic to it, but the activity of God is a -disposition of the original forms of matter.[132] This opposition is -devoid of the essentials of union and division. - -Thus the Stoics remain at the general conception that each individual -is comprehended in a Notion, and this again in the universal Notion, -which is the world itself. But because the Stoics recognized the -rational as the active principle in nature, they took its phenomena -in their individuality as manifestations of the divine; and their -pantheism has thereby associated itself with the common ideas about -the gods as with the superstitions which are connected therewith (p. -235), with belief in all sorts of miracles and with divination—that is -to say, they believe that in nature there are intimations given which -men must receive through divine rites and worship. Epicureanism, on the -contrary, proceeds towards the liberation of men from this superstition -to which the Stoics are entirely given over. Thus Cicero, in his work -_De divinatione_, has taken the most part of his material from them, -and much is expressly given as being the reasoning of the Stoics. When, -for example, he speaks of the premonitory signs given in connection -with human events, all this is conformable with the Stoic philosophy. -The fact that an eagle flies to the right, the Stoics accepted as a -revelation of God, believing that thereby it was intimated to men what -it was advisable for them to do in some particular circumstances. Just -as we find the Stoics speaking of God as having universal necessity, -to them God, as Notion, has hence a relation to men and human ends -likewise, and in this respect He is providence; thus they now arrived -at the conception of particular gods also. Cicero says in the work -quoted above (II. 49): “Chrysippus, Diogenes and Antipater argued thus: -If gods exist, and if they do not let men know beforehand what is to -happen in the future, they cannot love men, or else they themselves do -not know what stands before them in the future, or they are of opinion -that it does not signify whether man knows it or not, or they consider -such a revelation beneath the dignity of their majesty, or they cannot -make it comprehensible to men.” All this they refute, for amongst other -things they say that nothing can exceed the beneficence of the gods, -&c. Thus they draw the conclusion that “the gods make known to men the -future”—a system of reasoning in which the entirely particular ends -of individuals also form the interests of the gods. To make men know -and comprehend at one time and not at another, is an inconsistency, -_i.e._ an incomprehensibility, but this very incomprehensibility, this -obscurity, is the triumph of the common way of regarding religions -affairs. Thus in the Stoics all the superstitions of Rome had their -strongest supporters; all external, teleological superstition is taken -under their protection and justified. Because the Stoics started from -the assertion that reason is God (it certainly is divine, but it -does not exhaust divinity), they immediately made a bound from this -universal to the revelation of that which operates for the sake of -individual ends. The truly rational is doubtless revealed to men as the -law of God; but the useful, what is in conformity with individual ends, -is not revealed in this truly divine revelation. - - -2. LOGIC. - -In the second place, as to the intellectual side of the philosophy, we -must first of all. consider the principle of the Stoics in answering -the question of what the true and rational is. In regard to the source -of our knowledge of truth, or of the criterion, which in those times -used to be discussed (Vol. I. p. 474, Vol. II. p. 233), the Stoics -decided that the scientific principle is the conception that is laid -hold of (φαντασία καταληπτική), for the true as well as for the good; -for the true and good are set forth as content or as the existent. -Thus a unity of apprehending thought and Being is set forth in which -neither can exist without the other; by this is meant not sensuous -conception as such, but that which has returned into thought and become -proper to consciousness. Some of the older Stoics, amongst whom we -certainly find Zeno, called this criterion the very truth of reason -(ὀρθὸς λόγος). Ordinary conception on its own account (φαντασία) is -an impression (τύπωσις), and for it Chrysippus used the expression -alteration (ἐτεροίωσις).[133] But that the conception should be true, -it must be comprehended; it begins with feeling, whereby in fact the -type of another is brought into us; the second step is that we should -transform this into part of ourselves, and this first of all occurs -through thought. - -According to Cicero’s account (Academ. Quæst. IV. 47), Zeno illustrated -the moments of this appropriation by a movement of the hand. When he -showed the open palm he said that this was a sensuous perception; -when he bent the fingers somewhat, this was a mental assent through -which the conception is declared to be mine; when he pressed them -quite together and formed a fist, this was comprehension (κατάληψις), -just as in German we speak of comprehension [Begreifen] when by means -of our senses we lay hold of anything in a similar way; when he then -brought the left hand into play and pressed together that fist firmly -and forcibly, he said that this was science, in which no one but the -wise man participated. This double pressure, my pressing with the -other hand that which is grasped, is said to signify conviction, my -being conscious of the identity of thought with the content. “But who -this wise man is or has been the Stoics never say,” adds Cicero; and -of this we shall afterwards have to speak in greater detail. In fact, -the matter is not made clear through this gesticulation of Zeno’s. -The first action, the open hand, is sensuous apprehension, immediate -seeing, hearing, &c.; the first motion of the hand is then, speaking -generally, spontaneity in grasping. This first assent is likewise -given by fools; it is weak, and may be false. The next moment is the -closing of the hand, comprehension, taking something in; this makes -the ordinary conception truth, because the ordinary conception becomes -identical with thought. By this my identity with this determination -is indeed set forth, but this is not yet scientific knowledge, for -science is a firm, secure, unchangeable comprehension through reason or -thought, which is that which rules or directs the soul. Midway between -scientific knowledge and folly is the true Notion as the criterion, -although as yet it is not itself science; in it thought gives its -approbation to existence and recognizes itself, for approbation is -the harmony of a thing with itself. But in scientific knowledge a -perception of the first elements and determinate knowledge through -thought of the object is contained. Thus the ordinary conception as -apprehended is thought; scientific knowledge is the consciousness of -thought, the knowledge of that harmony. - -We may also give our assent to these conclusions of the Stoics with -their various stages, since in them there is a perception which is -undoubtedly true. In this we have an expression of the celebrated -definition of the truth, by which it is made the harmony of object and -consciousness; but at the same time it is well to remark that this is -to be understood simply, and not as indicating that consciousness had a -conception, and that on the other side stood an object, which two had -to harmonize with one another, and hence that a third was necessarily -brought into existence which had to compare them. Now this would be -consciousness itself, but what this last can compare is nothing more -than its conception, and—not the object, but—its conception again. -Consciousness thus really accepts the conception of the object; it is -by this approbation that the conception actually receives truth—the -testimony of mind to the objective rationality of the world. It is -not, as is ordinarily represented, that a round object here impresses -itself upon wax, that a third compares the form of the round and of the -wax and, finding them to be similar, judges that the impress must have -been correct, and the conception and the thing have harmonized. For -the action of thought consists in this, that thought in and for itself -gives its approbation and recognizes the object as being in conformity -with itself; this it is in which lies the power of truth—or approbation -is the expression of this harmony, or judgment itself. In this, say -the Stoics, the truth is contained; it is an object which is likewise -thought, so that the thought that gives its assent is the ruling -thought which posits the harmony of subject with content. The fact that -anything is or has truth is thus not because it is (for this moment of -Being is only ordinary conception), but the fact that it is, has its -power in the approbation of consciousness. But this thought alone and -for itself is not the truth, nor is the truth as such contained in it, -for the Notion requires the objective element and is only the rational -consciousness respecting the truth. But the truth of the object itself -is contained in the fact that this objective corresponds to thought, -and not the thought to the objective; for this last may be sensuous, -changeable, false, and contingent, and thus it is untrue for mind. -This is the main point as far as the Stoics are concerned, and even -if we discover the Stoic speculative doctrines from their antagonists -better than from their originators and advocates, yet from them, too, -this idea of unity proceeds; and while both sides of this unity are -opposed, both are necessary, but thought is essential reality. Sextus -Empiricus (adv. Math. VIII. 10) understands this thus: “The Stoics say -that as regards the perceptible and that which is thought some things -alone are true; what is felt, however, is not immediate (έξ εὐθείας), -for it becomes true for the first time through its relation to the -thought that corresponds to it.” Thus neither is immediate thought the -true, excepting in so far us it corresponds to the Notion and is known -through the working out of rational thought. - -This general idea is the only one which is interesting in the Stoics, -but even in this very principle, limitations are found to be present. -It merely expresses the truth as subsisting in the object, as thought -of, yet for that very reason it is still a very formal determination, -or not in itself the real Idea. From this point of view Sextus -Empiricus (adv. Math. X. 183) examines the Stoics, and he considers -and discusses them in all sorts of ways. The most striking thing that -he says is what relates to the following. The fact that anything is, -rests in its being thought—the fact that it is thought in something -being there; the one is the pre-supposition of the other. That is to -say, the Stoics assert that a thing exists, not because it is, but -through thought; but consciousness for its existence requires another, -for thought is likewise one-sided. In this criticism by Sextus it is -indicated that thought requires an object as an external to which it -gives its approbation. There can be no talk of its being here indicated -that the thinking mind in order to exist as consciousness does not -require the object; this is really inherent in its conception. But the -“this” of the object as an external is only a moment which is not the -only one or the essential. It is the manifestation of mind, and mind -exists only in that it appears; this therefore must come to pass in -it, that it must have its object as external and give its approbation -to it—that is, it must withdraw from this relationship into itself and -therein recognize its unity. But likewise, having gone into itself, it -has now from itself to beget its object and give itself the content -which it sends forth from itself. Stoicism is only this return of -mind into itself, positing the unity of itself and the object, and -recognizing the harmony; but not the going forth again to the extension -of the real knowledge of a content from itself. We do not find Stoicism -getting any farther, for it stops short at making the consciousness of -this unity its object, without developing it in the slightest; thus -reason remains the simple form which does not go on to the distinction -of the content itself. Hence the formalism of this celebrated standard, -and of the standpoint from which all truth of content is judged, rests -farther in the fact that the thought of thought, as what is highest, -finds this content indeed conformable to itself and appropriates it, -since it transforms it into the universal, but its determinations are -given. For if thought predominates, still it is always universal form -alone. On account of this universality thought yields nothing but the -form of identity with itself; the ultimate criterion is thus only the -formal identity of the thought which discovers harmony. But it may -be asked, with what? For there no absolute self-determination, no -content that proceeds from thought as such is to be found; and hence -everything may harmonize with my thought. The criterion of the Stoics -is consequently only the principle of contradiction; yet when we remove -the contradiction from absolute reality, it is indeed self-identical, -but for that very reason empty. The harmony must be a higher one; there -must be harmony with self in what is other than self, in content, in -determination; and thus it must be harmony with harmony. - -In accordance with this recognition of the principle of the Stoics, -both their logic and their morality is judged; neither the one nor the -other arrives at being immanent free science. We have already remarked -(p. 241) that they also occupied themselves with logical definitions, -and since they made abstract thought the principle, they have brought -formal logic to great perfection. Logic is hence to them logic in -the sense that it expresses the activity of the understanding as of -conscious understanding; it is no longer as with Aristotle, at least -in regard to the categories, undecided as to whether the forms of the -understanding are not at the same time the realities of things; for the -forms of thought are set forth as such for themselves. Then along with -this comes in, for the first time, the question respecting the harmony -of thought and object or the demand that an appropriate content of -thought be shown. However, since all given content may be taken into -thought and posited as something thought without therefore losing its -determinate character, and this determinate character contradicts and -does not support the simplicity of thought, the taking of it up does -not help at all; for its opposite may also be taken up and set forth -as something thought. The opposition is thereby, however, only in -another form; for instead of the content being in outward sensation as -something not pertaining to thought and not true, as it formerly was, -it now pertains to thought, but is unlike it in its determinateness, -seeing that thought is the simple. Thus what was formerly excluded -from the simple Notion, now comes into it again; this separation -between activity of the understanding and object must indeed be made, -but likewise the unity in the object as such has to be shown, if it -is only something thought. Hence Scepticism cast up this opposition -more especially to the Stoics, and the Stoics amongst themselves had -always to improve on their conceptions. As we have just seen (p. 250) -in Sextus Empiricus, they did not quite know whether they should define -conception as impression or alteration, or in some other way. Now if -this conception is admitted into that which directs the soul, into pure -consciousness, Sextus further asks (since thought _in abstracto_ is the -simple and self-identical which, as incorporeal, is neither passive -nor active), How can an alteration, an impression, be made on this? -Then the thought-forms are themselves incorporeal. But, according to -the Stoics, only the corporeal can make an impression or bring about -an alteration.[134] That is to say, on the one hand, because corporeal -and incorporeal are unlike they cannot be one; and, on the other, -incorporeal thought-forms, as capable of no alteration, are not the -content, for this last is the corporeal only. - -If the thought-forms could in fact have attained the form of content, -they would have been a content of thought in itself. But as they were -they had value as laws of thought (λεκτά)[135] merely. The Stoics -indeed had a system of immanent determinations of thought, and actually -did a great deal in this direction; for Chrysippus specially developed -and worked out this logical aspect of things, and is stated to have -been a master in it (_supra_, pp. 240, 241). But this development took -a very formal direction; there are the ordinary well-known forms of -inference, five of which are given by Chrysippus, while others give -sometimes more and sometimes fewer. One of them is the hypothetical -syllogism through remotion, “When it is day it is light, but now it is -night and hence it is not light.” These logical forms of thought are -by the Stoics held to be the unproved that requires no proof; but they -are likewise only formal forms which determine no content as such. The -wise man is specially skilful in dialectic, we are told by the Stoics, -for all things, both physical and ethical, are perceived through a -knowledge of logic.[136] But thus they have ascribed this perception -to a subject, without stating who this wise man is (p. 250). Since -objective grounds by which to determine the truth are wanting, the -ultimate decision is attributed to the will of the subject; and this -talk about the wise man consequently has its ground in nothing but -the indefiniteness of the criterion, from which we cannot get to the -determination of content. - -It would be superfluous to speak further of their logic any more than -of their theory of judgments, which in part coincides with it, and in -part is a grammar and a rhetoric; by it no real scientific content -can be reached. For this logic is not, like Plato’s dialectic, the -speculative science of the absolute Idea; but, as formal logic, as we -saw above (p. 254), it is science as the firm, secure, unalterable -comprehension of reasons, and stops short at the perception of the -same. This logical element, whose essence consists pre-eminently in -escaping to the simplicity of the conception to that which is not in -opposition to itself nor falls into contradiction, obtains the upper -hand. This simplicity, which has not negativity and content in itself, -requires a given content which it may not abrogate—but consequently -it cannot thus attain to a genuine “other” through itself. The Stoics -have constituted their logic often in the most isolated fashion; -the principal point that is established here is that the objective -corresponds to thought, and they investigated this thought more -closely. If in a manner it is quite correct to say that the universal -is the true, and that thought has a definite content that must also -be concrete, the main difficulty, which is to deduce the particular -determination from the universal, so that in this self-determination it -may remain identical with itself, has not been solved by the Stoics: -and this the Sceptics brought to consciousness. This is the point of -view most important in the philosophy of the Stoics; it thus showed -itself in their physics also. - - -3. ETHICS. - -Since the theory of mind, the doctrine of knowledge, came before us -in the investigation of the criterion, we have, in the third and -last place, to speak of the morality of the Stoics, to which is due -their greatest fame, but which does not rise above this formal element -any more than what precedes, although it cannot be denied that in -presenting it they have taken a course which seems very plausible to -the popular conception, but which in fact is to a great extent external -and empiric. - -a. In order, in the first place, to find the definition of virtue, -Chrysippus gives some good expositions of practical ethics which -Diogenes Laërtius (VII. 85, 86) quotes at considerable length; they -are psychological in character and in them Chrysippus establishes his -formal harmony with himself. For according to him the Stoics say: “The -first desire (ὁρμή) of the animal is for self-preservation, because -nature from the beginning reconciled each existence with itself. This -first object innate in every animal” (immanent desire) “is thus the -harmony of the animal with itself, and the consciousness of the same,” -the self-consciousness through which “the animal is not alienated -from itself. Thus it repels what is injurious and accepts what is -serviceable to it.” This is Aristotle’s conception of the nature of -adaptation to an end, in which, as the principle of activity, both the -opposite and its sublation are contained. “Enjoyment is not the first -object, for it” (the sense of satisfaction) “is only for the first time -added when the nature of an animal that seeks itself through itself, -receives into itself that which is in conformity with its harmony with -itself.” This is likewise worthy of approbation: self-consciousness, -enjoyment, is just this return into self, the consciousness of this -unity in which I enjoy something and thereby have my unity as this -individual in the objective element. The case is similar in regard -to man; his end is self-preservation, but with a conscious end, with -consideration, according to reason. “In plants nature operates without -voluntary inclination (ὁρμῆς) or sense-perception, but some things in -us take place in the same manner as in plants.” For in the plant there -also is the seed-containing conception, but it is not in it as end, nor -as its object, for it knows nothing about it. “In animals inclination -comes in; in them nature makes their impulses conformable to their -first principle;” _i.e._ the end of inclination is simply the first -principle of their nature, and that through which they make for their -own preservation. “Rational creatures likewise make nature their end, -but this is to live according to reason, for reason becomes in them the -artist who produces inclination,” _i.e._ it makes a work of art in man -from what in the animal is desire merely. To live in accordance with -nature is thus, to the Stoics, to live rationally. - -This now appears somewhat like certain receipts given by the Stoics for -the purpose of discovering right motive forces in regard to virtue. For -their principle put generally is this: “Men must live in conformity -with nature, _i.e._ with virtue; for to it” (rational) “nature leads -us.” That is the highest good, the end of everything—a most important -form in Stoic morality, which appears in Cicero as _finis bonorum_ -or _summum bonum_. With the Stoics right reason and the securing of -it on its own account, is the highest principle. But here, too, we -immediately see that we are thereby merely led round in a circle in a -manner altogether formal, because virtue, conformity to nature, and -reason, are only determined through one another. Virtue consists in -living conformably with nature, and what is conformable to nature is -virtue. Likewise thought must further determine what is in conformity -with nature, but conformity with nature again is that alone which -is determined through reason. The Stoics further say, according to -Diogenes Laërtius (VII. 87, 88) “To live according to nature is to -live according to that which experience teaches us of the laws both -of universal nature and of our own nature, by doing nothing which -universal law forbids; and that law is the right reason which pervades -everything, being the same with Jupiter, the disposer (καθηγεμόνι) of -the existing system of things. The virtue of the happy man is when -everything occurs according to the harmony of the genius (δαίμονος) -of each individual with reference to the will of the disposer of all -things.” Thus everything remains as it was in a universal formalism. - -We must throughout allow to the Stoics that virtue consists in -following thought, _i.e._ the universal law, right reason; anything is -moral and right only in as far as a universal end is in it fulfilled -and brought into evidence. This last is the substantial, the essential -nature of a relationship, and in it we have that which is really in -thought alone. The universal which must be the ultimate determination -in action, is, however, not abstract, but the universal in this -relationship, just as, for example, in property the particular is -placed on one side. Because man, as a man of thought and culture, acts -according to his perception, he subordinates his impulses and desires -to the universal; for they are individual. There is in each human -action an individual and particular element; but there is a distinction -as to whether the particular as such is solely insisted upon or whether -in this particular the universal is secured. It is to the securing -of this universal that the energy of Stoicism is directed. But this -universal has still no content and is undetermined, and thereby the -Stoic doctrines of virtue are incomplete, empty, meaningless and -tedious. Virtue indeed is commended in a forcible, lively and edifying -manner, but as to what this universal law of virtue is, we have no -indications given us. - -b. The other side as regards the good is external existence, and the -agreement of circumstances, of external nature, with the end aimed -at by man. For although the Stoics have expressed the good as being -conformity with law, in relation to the practical will, they yet -defined it, according to Diogenes Laërtius (VII. 94, 95), as being at -the same time the useful, “either absolutely and immediately useful or -not contrary to utility,” so that generally speaking the useful is, -as it were, the accident of virtue. “The Stoics likewise distinguished -manifold good into good having reference to the soul, and external -good; the former indicates virtues and their actions; the latter the -fact of pertaining to a noble country, having a virtuous friend, and -so on. In the third place it is neither external nor is it a matter -of self-consciousness alone, when the self-same man is virtuous and -happy.” These conclusions are quite good. Morality does not require -to look so coldly on what concerns utility, for every good action is -in fact useful, _i.e._ it has actuality and brings forth something -good. An action which is good without being useful is no action and -has no actuality. That which in itself is useless in the good is its -abstraction as being a non-reality. Men not only may, but must have -the consciousness of utility; for it is true that it is useful to know -the good. Utility means nothing else but that men have a consciousness -respecting their actions. If this consciousness is blameworthy, it -is still more so to know much of the good of one’s action and to -consider it less in the form of necessity. Thus the question was raised -as to how virtue and happiness are related to one another, a theme -of which the Epicureans have also treated. Here it was, as in more -recent times, regarded as the great problem to discover whether virtue -gives happiness, taken altogether by itself, whether the conception -of happiness is included in its conception. That union of virtue and -happiness, as the mean, is thus rightly represented as being perfect, -neither pertaining only to self-consciousness nor to externality. - -α. In order to be able to give a general answer to this question, -we most recollect what was said above of the principle of -self-preservation, according to which virtue has to do with the -rational nature. The fulfilment of its end is happiness as finding -itself realized, and as the knowledge or intuitive perception of itself -as an external—a harmony of its Notion or its genius with its Being -or its reality. The harmony of virtue with happiness thus means that -the virtuous action realizes itself in and for itself, man becomes in -it an immediate object to himself, and he comes to the perception of -himself as objective, or of the objective as himself. This rests in -the conception of action and particularly of good action. For the bad -destroys reality and is opposed to self-preservation; but the good -is what makes for its self-preservation and effectuates it—the good -end is thus the content that realizes itself in action. But in this -general answer to that question, properly speaking, the consciousness -of the implicitly existent end has not sufficiently exactly the -signification of virtue, nor has action proceeding from the same -exactly the signification of virtuous action, neither has the reality -which it attains the signification of happiness. The distinction rests -in the fact that the Stoics have merely remained at this general -conception, and set it forth immediately as actuality; in it however, -the conception of virtuous action is merely expressed, and not reality. - -β. A further point is that just because the Stoics have remained at -this position, the opposition between virtue and happiness immediately -enters in, or, in abstract form, that between thought and its -determination. These opposites are with Cicero _honestum_ and _utile_, -and their union is the question dealt with.[137] Virtue, which is -living in accordance with the universal law of nature, is confronted -by the satisfaction of the subject as such in his particularity. -The two sides are, in the first place, this particularity of the -individual, which, in the most varied aspects has existence in me as -the abstract “this,” for example, in the pre-supposition of determinate -inclinations; and here we have pleasure and enjoyment in which my -existence harmonizes with the demands of my particularity. In the -second place, I, as the will that fulfils law, am only the formal -character which has to carry out the universal; and thus, as willing -the universal, I am in accord with myself as thinking. The two now -come into collision, and because I seek the one satisfaction or the -other, I am in collision with myself, because I am also individual. -As to this we may hear many trivial things said, such as that things -often go badly with the virtuous and well with the wicked, and that -the latter is happy, &c. By going well all external circumstances -are understood, and on the whole the content is quite uninteresting, -for it is constituted by the attainment of commonplace ends, points -of view and interests. Such at once show themselves, however, to be -merely contingent and external; hence we soon get past this standpoint -in the problem, and thus external enjoyment, riches, noble birth, -&c., do not accord with virtue or happiness. The Stoics indeed said: -“The implicitly good is the perfect” (that which fulfils its end) “in -accordance with the nature of the rational; now virtue is such, but -enjoyment, pleasure and such-like are its accessories”[138]—the end of -the satisfaction of the individual on his own account. Thus these may -be the concomitants of virtue, although it is a matter of indifference -whether they are so or not, for since this satisfaction is not end, -it is equally a matter of indifference if pain is the concomitant -of virtue. Conduct which is according to reason only, thus further -contains man’s abstract concentration within himself, and the fact that -the consciousness of the true enters into him, so that he renounces -everything that belongs to immediate desires, feelings, &c. - -In this quite formal principle of holding oneself in a pure harmony -with oneself of a merely thinking nature, there now rests the power of -becoming indifferent to every particular enjoyment, desire, passion -and interest. Because this following of the determinations of reason -is in opposition to enjoyment, man should seek his end or satisfaction -in nothing else than in the satisfaction of his reason, in satisfying -himself in himself, but not in anything outwardly conditioned. Hence -much has been said by the Stoics in respect of that which pertains to -the passions being something that is contradictory. The writings of -Seneca and Antoninus contain much that is true in this regard, and -they may be most helpful to those who have not attained to the higher -degree of conviction. Seneca’s talent must be recognized, but we must -also be convinced that it does not suffice. Antoninus (VIII. 7) shows -psychologically that happiness or pleasure is not a good. “Regret is a -certain self-blame, because something useful has failed, the good must -be something useful, and the noble and good man must make the same his -interest. But no noble and good man will feel regret that he has fallen -short in pleasure; pleasure is thus neither useful nor good. The man -who has the desire for glory after his death does not recollect that -he who holds him in remembrance himself dies also, and again he who -follows this one, until all recollection through these admiring ones -who have passed away, has been extinguished.” Even if this independence -and freedom is merely formal, we must still recognize the greatness of -this principle. However, in this determination of the abstract inward -independence and freedom of the character in itself lies the power -which has made the Stoics famous; this Stoic force of character which -says that man has only to seek to remain like himself, thus coincides -with the formal element which I have already given (p. 254). For if -the consciousness of freedom is my end, in this universal end of the -pure consciousness of my independence all particular determinations of -freedom which are constituted by duties and laws, have disappeared. The -strength of will of Stoicism has therefore decided not to regard the -particular as its essence, but to withdraw itself therefrom; we see on -the one hand, that this is a true principle, but on the other, it is at -the same time abstract still. - -Now because the principle of the Stoic morality professes to be the -harmony of mind with itself, what should be done is not to let this -remain formal, and therefore not to let what is not contained in -this self-contained be any longer shut out of it. That freedom which -the Stoics ascribe to man is not without relation to what is other -than himself; thus he is really dependent, and under this category -happiness really falls. My independence is only one side, to which -the other side, the particular side of my existence, hence does not -yet correspond. The old question, which at this time again came up, -thus concerns the harmony between virtue and happiness. We speak of -morality rather than virtue, because that according to which I ought -to direct my actions is not, as in virtue, my will, as it has become -custom. Morality really contains my subjective conviction that that -which I do is in conformity with rational determinations of will, with -universal duties. That question is a necessary one, a problem which -even in Kant’s time occupied men, and in endeavouring to solve it -we must begin by considering what is to be understood by happiness. -Much more is afterwards said of that in which satisfaction is to be -sought. However, from what is external and exposed to chance we must -at once break free. Happiness in general means nothing more than the -feeling of harmony with self. That which is pleasing to the senses is -pleasing because a harmony with ourselves is therein contained. The -contrary and unpleasing is, on the other hand, a negation, a lack of -correspondence with our desires. The Stoics have posited as the very -essence of enjoyment this harmony of our inner nature with itself, -but only as inward freedom and the consciousness, or even only the -feeling of this harmony, so that enjoyment such as this is contained in -virtue itself. Yet this enjoyment ever remains a secondary matter, a -consequence, which in so far as it is so cannot be made end, but should -only be considered as an accessory. The Stoics said in this regard -that virtue is alone to be sought, but with virtue happiness on its -own account is found, for it confers blessing explicitly as such. This -happiness is true and imperturbable even if man is in misfortune;[139] -thus the greatness of the Stoic philosophy consists in the fact that -if the will thus holds together within itself, nothing can break into -it, that everything else is kept outside of it, for even the removal -of pain cannot be an end. The Stoics have been laughed at because they -said that pain is no evil.[140] But toothache and the like are not in -question as regards this problem. We cannot but know we are subject -to such; pain like this, and unhappiness are, however, two different -things. Thus the problem throughout is only to be understood as the -demand for a harmony of the rational will with external reality. To -this reality there also belongs the sphere of particular existence, of -subjectivity, of personality, of particular interests. But of these -interests the universal alone truly pertains to this reality, for only -in so far as it is universal, can it harmonize with the rationality -of the will. It is thus quite right to say that suffering, pain, &c., -are no evil, whereby the conformity with myself, my freedom, might be -destroyed; I am elevated over such in the union which is maintained -with myself, and even if I may feel them, they can still not make me -at variance with myself. This inward unity with myself as felt, is -happiness, and this is not destroyed by outward evil. - -γ. Another opposition is that within virtue itself. Because the -universal law of right reason is alone to be taken as the standard of -action, there is no longer any really absolutely fixed determination, -for all duty is always, so to speak, a particular content, which -can plainly be grasped in universal form, without this, however, in -any way affecting the content. Because virtue is thus that which is -conformable to the real essence or law of things, in a general sense -the Stoics called virtue everything, in every department, which is -in conformity with law in that department. Hence, Diogenes tells us -(VII. 92), they also speak of logical and physical virtues, just as -their morality represents individual duties (τὰ καθήκοντα) by passing -in review the individual natural relationships in which man stands, -and showing what in them is rational.[141] But this is only a kind -of quibbling such as we have also seen in Cicero’s case. Thus in as -far as an ultimate deciding criterion of that which is good cannot be -set up, the principle being destitute of determination, the ultimate -decision rests with the subject, Just as before this it was the oracle -that decided, at the commencement of this profounder inwardness the -subject was given the power of deciding as to what is right. For since -Socrates’ time the determination of what was right by the standard of -customary morality had ceased in Athens to be ultimate; hence with the -Stoics all external determination falls away, and the power of decision -can only be placed in the subject as such, which in the last instance -determines from itself as conscience. Although much that is elevated -and edifying may find its support here, an actual determination -is still wanting; hence there is according to the Stoics only one -virtue,[142] and the wise man is the virtuous. - -c. The Stoics have thus in the third place likewise been in the way of -representing an ideal of the wise man which, however, is nothing more -than the will of the subject which in itself only wills itself, remains -at the thought of the good, because it is good, allows itself in its -steadfastness to be moved by nothing different from itself, such as -desires, pain, &c., desires its freedom alone, and is prepared to give -up all else—which thus, if it experiences outward pain and misfortune, -yet separates these from the inwardness of its consciousness. The -question of why the expression of rel morality has with the Stoics -the form of the ideal of the wise man finds its answer, however, -in the fact that the mere conception of virtuous consciousness, of -action with respect to an implicitly existent end, finds in individual -consciousness alone the element of moral reality. For if the Stoics -had gone beyond the mere conception of action for the implicitly -existent end, and had reached to the knowledge of the content, they -would not have required to express this as a subject. To them rational -self-preservation is virtue. But if we ask what it is that is evolved -by virtue, the answer is to the effect that it is just rational -self-preservation; and thus they have not by this expression got beyond -that formal circle. Moral reality is not expressed as that which is -enduring, which is evolved and ever evolving itself. And moral reality -is just this, to exist; for as nature is an enduring and existent -system, the spiritual as such must be an objective world. To this -reality the Stoics have, however, not reached. Or we may understand -this thus. Their moral reality is only the wise man, an ideal and not a -reality—in fact the mere conception whose reality is not set forth. - -This subjectivity is already contained in the fact that moral reality, -expressed as virtue, thereby immediately presents the appearance -of being present only as a quality of the individual. This virtue, -as such, in as far as only the moral reality of the individual is -indicated, cannot attain to happiness in and for itself, even though -happiness, regarded in the light of realization, were only the -realization of the individual. For this happiness would be just the -enjoyment of the individual as the harmony of existence with him -as individual; but with him as individual true happiness does not -harmonize, but only with him as universal man. Man must likewise not -in the least desire that it should harmonize with him as individual -man, that is, he must be indifferent to the individuality of his -existence, and to the harmony with the individual as much as to the -want of harmony; he must be able to dispense with happiness just -as, if he possesses it, he must be free from it; or it is only a -harmony of him with himself as a universal. If merely the subjective -conception of morality is therein contained, its true relationship is -yet thereby expressed; for it is this freedom of consciousness which -in its enjoyment rests in itself and is independent of objects,—what -we expressed above (p. 264) as the special characteristic of the -Stoic morality. Stoic self-consciousness has not here to deal with -its individuality as such, but solely with the freedom in which it is -conscious of itself only as the universal. Now could one call this -happiness, in distinction to the other, true happiness, happiness -would still, on the whole, remain a wrong expression. The satisfaction -of rational consciousness in itself as an immediate universal, is a -state of being which is simulated by the determination of happiness; -for in happiness we have the moment of self-consciousness as an -individuality. But this differentiated consciousness is not present in -that self-satisfaction; for in that freedom the individual has rather -the sense of his universality only. Striving after happiness, after -spiritual enjoyment, and talking of the excellence of the pleasures of -science and art, is hence dull and insipid, for the matter with which -we are occupied has no longer the form of enjoyment, or it does away -with that conception. This sort of talk has indeed passed away and -it no longer has any interest. The true point of view is to concern -oneself with the matter itself and not with enjoyment, that is, not -with the constant reflection on the relation to oneself as individual, -but with the matter as a matter, and as implicitly universal. We must -take care besides that things are tolerable to us as individuals, -and the pleasanter the better. But no further notice or speech about -this is requisite, nor are we to imagine that there is much that is -rational and important within it. But the Stoic consciousness does not -get beyond this individuality to the reality of the universal, and -therefore it has only to express the form, the real as an individual, -or the wise man. - -The highest point reached by Aristotle, the thought of thought, is -also present in Stoicism, but in such a way that it does not stand in -its individual capacity as it appears to do in Aristotle, having what -is different beside it, but as being quite alone. Thus in the Stoic -consciousness there is just this freedom, this negative moment of -abstraction from existence, an independence which is capable of giving -up everything, but not as an empty passivity and self-abnegation, as -though everything could be taken from it, but an independence which -can resign it voluntarily, without thereby losing its reality; for its -reality is really just the simple rationality, the pure thought of -itself. Here pure consciousness thus attains to being its own object, -and because reality is to it only this simple object, its object annuls -in itself all modes of existence, and is nothing in and for itself, -being therein only in the form of something abrogated. - -All is merged into this: the simplicity of the Notion, or its pure -negativity, is posited in relation to everything. But the real -filling in, the objective mode, is wanting, and in order to enter -into this, Stoicism requires that the content should be given. Hence -the Stoics depicted the ideal of the wise man in specially eloquent -terms, telling how perfectly sufficient in himself and independent -he is, for what the wise man does is right. The description of the -ideal formed by the Stoics is hence a common subject of discussion -and is even devoid of interest; or at least the negative element in -it is alone noteworthy. “The wise man is free and likewise in chains, -for he acts from himself, uncorrupted by fear or desire.” Everything -which belongs to desire and fear he does not reckon to himself, he -gives to such the position of being something foreign to him; for no -particular existence is secure to him. “The wise man is alone king, -for he alone is not bound to laws, and he is debtor to no one.” Thus -we here see the autonomy and autocracy of the wise man, who, merely -following reason, is absolved from all established laws which are -recognized, and for which no rational ground can be given, or which -appear to rest somewhat on a natural aversion or instinct. For even -in relation to actual conduct no definite law has properly speaking -reality for him, and least of all those which appear to belong to -nature as such alone, _e.g._ the prohibition against entering into -marriage relations which are considered incestuous, the prohibition -of intercourse between man and man, for in reason the same thing is -fitting as regards the one which is so as regards the others. Similarly -the wise man may eat human flesh,[143] &c. But a universal reason is -something quite indeterminate. Thus the Stoics have not passed beyond -their abstract understanding in the transgression of these laws, and -therefore they have allowed their king to do much that was immoral; -for if incest, pederasty, the eating of human flesh, were at first -forbidden as though through a natural instinct only, they likewise -can by no means exist before the judgment-seat of reason. The Stoic -wise man is thus also ‘enlightened,’ in the sense that where he did -not know how to bring the natural instinct into the form of a rational -reason, he trampled upon nature. Thus that which is called natural -law or natural instinct comes into opposition with what is set forth -as immediately and universally rational. For example, those first -actions seem to rest on natural feelings, and we must remember that -feelings are certainly not the object of thought; as opposed to this, -property is something thought, universal in itself, a recognition of my -possession from all, and thus it indeed belongs to the region of the -understanding. But should the wise man hence not be bound by the former -because it is not something immediately thought, this is merely the -fault of his want of comprehension. As we have, however, seen that in -the sphere of theory the thought-out simplicity of the truth is capable -of all content, so we find this also to be the case with the good, that -which is practically thought-out, without therefore being any content -in itself. To wish to justify such a content through a reason thus -indicates a confusion between the perception of the individual and that -of all reality, it means a superficiality of perception which does not -acknowledge a certain thing because it is not known in this and that -regard. But this is so for the reason that it only seeks out and knows -the most immediate grounds and cannot know whether there are not other -aspects and other grounds. Such grounds as these allow of reasons for -and against everything being found—on the one hand a positive relation -to something which, though in other cases necessary, as such can also -be again sublated; and, on the other hand, a negative relation to -something necessary, which can likewise again be held to be valid. - -Because the Stoics indeed placed virtue in thought, but found -no concrete principle of rational self-determination whereby -determinateness and difference developed, they, in the first place, -have carried on a reasoning by means of grounds to which they lead back -virtue. They draw deductions from facts, connections, consequences, -from a contradiction or opposition; and this Antoninus and Seneca do in -an edifying way and with great ingenuity. Reasons, however, prove to -be a nose of wax; for there are good grounds for everything, such as -“These instincts, implanted as they are by nature,” or “Short life,” -&c. Which reasons should be esteemed as good thereby depends on the end -and interest which form the pre-supposition giving them their power. -Hence reasons are as a whole subjective. This method of reflecting on -self and on what we should do, leads to the giving to our ends the -breadth of reflection due to penetrative insight, the enlargement -of the sphere of consciousness. It is thus I who bring forward these -wise and good grounds. They do not constitute the thing, the objective -itself, but the thing of my own will, of my desire, a bauble through -which I set up before me the nobility of my mind; the opposite of this -is self-oblivion in the thing. In Seneca himself there is more folly -and bombast in the way of moral reflection than genuine truth; and thus -there has been brought up against him both his riches, the splendour -of his manner of life, his having allowed Nero to give him wealth -untold, and also the fact that he had Nero as his pupil; for the latter -delivered orations composed by Seneca.[144] This reasoning is often -brilliant, as with Seneca: we find much that awakens and strengthens -the mind, clever antitheses and rhetoric, but we likewise feel the -coldness and tediousness of these moral discourses. We are stimulated -but not often satisfied, and this may be deemed the character of -sophistry: if acuteness in forming distinctions and sincere opinion -must be there recognized, yet final conviction is ever lacking. - -In the second place there is in the Stoic standpoint the higher, -although negatively formal principle, that what is thought is alone as -such the end and the good, and therefore that in this form of abstract -thought alone, as in Kant’s principle of duty, there is contained that -by which man must establish and secure his self-consciousness, so -that he can esteem and follow nothing in himself in as far as it has -any other content for itself. “The happy life,” says Seneca (De vita -beata, 5), “is unalterably grounded on a right and secure judgment.” -The formal security of the mind which abstracts from everything, -sets up for us no development of objective principles, but a subject -which maintains itself in this constancy, and in an indifference -not due to stupidity, but studied; and this is the infinitude of -self-consciousness in itself. - -Because the moral principle of the Stoics remains at this formalism, -all that they treat of is comprised in this. For their thoughts are the -constant leading back of consciousness to its unity with itself. The -power of despising existence is great, the strength of this negative -attitude sublime. The Stoic principle is a necessary moment in the -Idea of absolute consciousness; it is also a necessary manifestation -in time. For if, as in the Roman world, the life of the real mind -is lost in the abstract universal; the consciousness, where real -universality is destroyed, must go back into its individuality and -maintain itself in its thoughts. Hence, when the political existence -and moral actuality of Greece had perished, and when in later times the -Roman Empire also became dissatisfied with the present, it withdrew -into itself, and there sought the right and moral which had already -disappeared from ordinary life. It is thus herein implied, not that -the condition of the world is a rational and right one, but only that -the subject as such should assert his freedom in himself. Everything -that is outward, world, relationships, &c., are so disposed as to be -capable of being abrogated; in it there is thus no demand for the real -harmony of reason and existence; or that which we might term objective -morality and rectitude is not found in it. Plato has set up the ideal -of a Republic, _i.e._ of a rational condition of mankind in the state; -for this esteem for right, morality and custom which is to him the -principal matter, constitutes the side of reality in that which is -rational; and it is only through a rational condition of the world -such as this, that the harmony of the external with the internal is -in this concrete sense present. In regard to morality and power of -willing the good, nothing more excellent can be read than what Marcus -Aurelius has written in his Meditations on himself; he was Emperor -of the whole of the then known civilized world, and likewise bore -himself nobly and justly as a private individual. But the condition -of the Roman Empire was not altered by this philosophic emperor, -and his successor, who was of a different character, was restrained -by nothing from inaugurating a condition of things as bad as his own -wicked caprice might direct. It is something much higher when the -inward principle of the mind, of the rational will, likewise realizes -itself, so that there arises a rational constitution, a condition of -things in accordance with culture and law. Through such objectivity -of reason, the determinations which come together in the ideal of -the wise man are first consolidated. There then is present a system -of moral relationships which are duties; each determination is then -in its place, the one subordinated to the other, and the higher is -predominant. Hence it comes to pass that the conscience becomes bound -(which is a higher point than the Stoic freedom), that the objective -relationships which we call duties are consolidated after the manner -of a just condition of things, as well as being held by mind to be -fixed determinations. Because these duties do not merely appear to -hold good in a general sense, but are also recognized in my conscience -as having the character of the universal, the harmony of the rational -will and reality is established. On the one hand, the objective system -of freedom as necessity exists, and, on the other, the rational in -me is real as conscience. The Stoic principle has not yet reached -to this more concrete attitude, as being on the one hand abstract -morality, and, on the other, the subject that has a conscience. The -freedom of self-consciousness in itself is the principle, but it has -not yet attained to its concrete form, and its relation to happiness -exists only in its determination as indifferent and contingent, which -relation must be given up. In the concrete principle of rationality -the condition of the world, as of my conscience, is not, however, -indifferent. - -This is a general description of Stoic morality; the main point is to -recognize its point of view and chief relationships. Because in the -Roman world a perfectly consistent position, and one conformable to -existing conditions, has attained to the consciousness of itself, -the philosophy of the Stoics has more specially found its home in the -Roman world. The noble Romans have hence only proved the negative, an -indifference to life and to all that is external; they could be great -only in a subjective or negative manner—in the manner of a private -individual. The Roman jurists are also said to have been likewise -Stoic philosophers, but, on the one hand, we find that our teachers of -Roman law only speak ill of Philosophy, and, on the other, they are -yet sufficiently inconsistent to state it to the credit of the Roman -jurists that they were philosophers. So far as I understand law, I can -find in it, among the Romans, nothing either of thought, Philosophy -or the Notion. If we are to call the reasoning of the understanding -logical thought, they may indeed be held to be philosophers, but this -is also present in the reasoning of Master Hugo, who certainly does not -claim to be a philosopher. The reasoning of the understanding and the -philosophic Notion are two different things. We shall now proceed to -what is in direct contrast to the Stoic philosophy, Epicureanism. - - -B. EPICURUS. - -The Epicurean philosophy, which forms the counterpart to Stoicism, was -just as much elaborated as the Stoic, if, indeed, it were not more so. -While the latter posited as truth existence for thought—the universal -Notion—and held firmly to this principle, Epicurus, the founder of -the other system, held a directly opposite view, regarding as the -true essence not Being in general, but Being as sensation, that is, -consciousness in the form of immediate particularity. As the Stoics -did not seek the principle of the Cynics—that man must confine himself -to the simplicity of nature—in man’s requirements, but placed it in -universal reason, so Epicurus elevated the principle that happiness -should be our chief end into the region of thought, by seeking pleasure -in a universal which is determined through thought. And though, in so -doing, he may have given a higher scientific form to the doctrines of -the Cyrenaics. it is yet self-evident that if existence for sensation -is to be regarded as the truth, the necessity for the Notion is -altogether abrogated, and in the absence of speculative interest -things cease to form a united whole, all things being in point of fact -lowered to the point of view of the ordinary human understanding. -Notwithstanding this proviso, before we take this philosophy into -consideration, we must carefully divest ourselves of all the ideas -commonly prevalent regarding Epicureanism. - -As regards the life of Epicurus, he was born in the Athenian village of -Gargettus in Ol. 109, 3 (B.C. 342), and therefore before the death of -Aristotle, which took place in Ol. 114, 3. His opponents, especially -the Stoics, have raked up against him more accusations than I can tell -of, and have invented the most trivial anecdotes respecting his doings. -He had poor parents; his father, Neocles, was village schoolmaster, -and Chærestrata, his mother, was a sorceress: that is, she earned -money, like the women of Thrace and Thessaly, by furnishing spells and -incantations, as was quite common in those days. The father, taking -Epicurus with him, migrated with an Athenian colony to Samos, but here -also he was obliged to give instruction to children, because his plot -of land was not sufficient for the maintenance of his family. At the -age of about eighteen years, just about the time when Aristotle was -living in Chalcis, Epicurus returned to Athens. He had already, in -Samos, made the philosophy of Democritus a special subject of study, -and now in Athens he devoted himself to it more than ever; in addition -to this, he was on intimate terms with several of the philosophers -then flourishing, such as Xenocrates, the Platonist, and Theophrastus, -a follower of Aristotle. When Epicurus was twelve years old, he read -with his teacher Hesiod’s account of Chaos, the source of all things; -and this was perhaps not without influence on his philosophic views. -Otherwise he professed to be self-taught, in the sense that he produced -his philosophy entirely from himself; but we are not to suppose from -this that he did not attend the lectures or study the writings of other -philosophers. Neither is it to be understood that he was altogether -original in his philosophy as far as content was concerned; for, as -will be noted later, his physical philosophy especially is that of -Leucippus and Democritus. It was at Mitylene in Lesbos that he first -came forward as teacher of an original philosophic system, and then -again at Lampsacus in Asia Minor; he did not, however, find very many -hearers. After having for some years led an unsettled life, he returned -in about the six and thirtieth year of his age to Athens, to the -very centre of all Philosophy; and there, some time after, he bought -for himself a garden, where he lived and taught in the midst of his -friends. Though so frail in body that for many years he was unable to -rise from his chair, in his manner of living he was most regular and -frugal, and he devoted himself entirely to science, to the exclusion -of all other interests. Even Cicero, though in other respects he has -little to say in his favour, bears testimony to the warmth of his -friendships, and adds that no one can deny he was a good, a humane, -and a kindly man. Diogenes Laërtius gives special commendation to his -reverence towards his parents, his generosity to his brothers, and his -benevolence to all. He died of stone in the seventy-first year of his -age. Just before his death he had himself placed in a warm bath, drank -a cup of wine, and charged his friends to remember what he had taught -them.[145] - -No other teacher has ever been loved and reverenced by his scholars -as much as Epicurus; they lived on such intimate terms of friendship -that they determined to make common stock of their possessions with -him, and so continue in a permanent association, like a kind of -Pythagorean brotherhood. This they were, however, forbidden to do by -Epicurus himself, because it would have betrayed a distrust in their -readiness to share what they had with one another; but where distrust -is possible, there neither friendship, nor unity, nor constancy of -attachment can find a place. After his death he was held in honoured -remembrance by his disciples: they carried about with them everywhere -his likeness, engraved on rings or drinking-cups, and remained so -faithful to his teaching that they considered it almost a crime to make -any alteration in it (while in the Stoic philosophy development was -continually going on), and his school, in respect of his doctrines, -resembled a closely-barricaded state to which all entrance was denied. -The reason for this lies, as we shall presently see, in his system -itself; and the further result, from a scientific point of view, ensued -that we can name no celebrated disciples of his who carried on and -completed his teaching on their own account. For his disciples could -only have gained distinction for themselves by going further than -Epicurus did. But to go further would have been to reach the Notion, -which would only have confused the system of Epicurus; for what is -devoid of thought is thrown into confusion by the introduction of -the Notion, and it is this very lack of thought which has been made -a principle. Not that it is in itself without thought, but the use -made of thought is to hold back thought, and thought thus takes up a -negative position in regard to itself; and the philosophic activity of -Epicurus is thus directed towards the restoration and maintaining of -what is sensuous through the very Notion which renders it confused. -Therefore his philosophy has not advanced nor developed, but it must -also be said that it has not retrograded; a certain Metrodorus alone -is said to have carried it on further in some directions. It is also -told to the credit of the Epicurean philosophy that this Metrodorus -was the only disciple of Epicurus who went over to Carneades; for the -rest, it surpassed all others in its unbroken continuity of doctrine -and its long duration; for all of them became degenerate or suffered -interruption. When some one called the attention of Arcesilaus to this -attachment to Epicurus, by the remark that while so many had gone over -from other philosophers to Epicurus, scarcely a single example was -known of any one passing over from the Epicurean system to another, -Arcesilaus made the witty rejoinder: “Men may become eunuchs, but -eunuchs can never again become men.”[146] - -Epicurus himself produced in his lifetime an immense number of works, -being a much more prolific author than Chrysippus, who vied with him -in the number of his writings,[147] if we deduct from the latter his -compilations from the works of others or from his own. The number of -his writings is said to have amounted to three hundred; it is scarcely -to be regretted that they are lost to us. We may rather thank Heaven -that they no longer exist; philologists at any rate would have had -great trouble with them. The main source of our knowledge of Epicurus -is the whole of the tenth book of Diogenes Laërtius, which after all -gives us but scanty information, though it deals with the subject -at great length. We should, of course, have been better off had we -possessed the philosopher’s own writings, but we know enough of him to -make us honour the whole. For, besides this, we know a good deal about -the philosophy of Epicurus through Cicero, Sextus Empiricus and Seneca; -and so accurate are the accounts they give of him, that the fragment of -one of Epicurus’s own writings, found some years ago in Herculaneum, -and reprinted by Orelli from the Neapolitan edition (Epicuri Fragmenta -libri II. et XI. De natura, illustr. Orellius, Lipsiæ 1818), has -neither extended nor enriched our knowledge; so that we must in all -earnestness deprecate the finding of the remaining writings. - -With regard to the Epicurean philosophy, it is by no means to be looked -on as setting forth a system of Notions, but, on the contrary, as a -system of ordinary conceptions or even of sensuous existence, which, -looked at from the ordinary point of view as perceived by the senses, -Epicurus has made the very foundation and standard of truth (p. 277). A -detailed explanation of how sensation can be such, he has given in his -so-called Canonic. As in the case of the Stoics, we have first to speak -of the manner which Epicurus adopted of determining the criterion of -truth; secondly, of his philosophy of nature; and thirdly and lastly, -of his moral teaching. - - -1. CANONICAL PHILOSOPHY. - -Epicurus gave the name of Canonic to what is really a system of logic, -in which he defines the criteria of truth, in regard to the theoretic, -as in fact sensuous perceptions, and, further, as conceptions or -anticipations (προλήψεις); in regard to the practical, as the passions, -impulses, and affections.[148] - -a. On the theoretic side the criterion, closely considered, has, -according to Epicurus, three moments, which are the three stages of -knowledge; first, sensuous perception, as the side of the external; -secondly, ordinary conception, as the side of the internal; thirdly, -opinion (δόξα), as the union of the two. - -α. “Sensuous perception is devoid of reason,” being what is given -absolutely. “For it is not moved by itself, nor can it, if if is moved -by something else, take away from or add to” that which it is, but -it is exactly what it is. “It is beyond criticism or refutation. For -neither can one sensation judge another, both being alike, since both -have equal authority;”—when the presentations of sight are of the -same kind, every one of them must admit the truth of all the rest. -“Nor can one of them pass judgment on another when they are unlike, -for they each have their value as differing;” red and blue, for -example, are each something individual. “Nor can one sensation pass -judgment on another when they are heterogeneous; for we give heed to -all. Thought, in the same way, cannot criticize the senses; for all -thought itself depends on the sensation,” which forms its content. -But sensuous perception may go far wrong. “The truth of what our -senses perceive is first evinced by this, that the power of perception -remains with us; sight and hearing are permanent powers of this kind -as much as the capacity of feeling pain. In this way even the unknown” -(the unperceived) “may be indicated by means of that which appears” -(perception). Of this conception of objects of perception which are not -immediate we shall have to speak more particularly hereafter (p. 292) -in dealing with physical science. “Thus all” (unknown, imperceptible) -“thoughts originated in the senses either directly in respect of their -chance origin or in respect of relationship, analogy, and combination; -to these operations thought also contributes something,” namely as the -formal connection of the sensuous conceptions. “The fancies of the -insane or of our dreams are also true; for they act upon us, but that -which is not real does not act.”[149] Thus every sensuous perception -is explicitly true, in so far as it shows itself to be abiding, and -that which is not apparent to our senses must be apprehended after the -same manner as the perception known to us. We hear Epicurus say, just -as we hear it said in everyday life: What I see and hear, or, speaking -generally, what I perceive by my senses, comprises the existent; every -such object of sense exists on its own account, one of them does not -contradict the other, but all are on the same level of validity, and -reciprocally indifferent. These objects of perception are themselves -the material and content of thought, inasmuch as thought is continually -making use of the images of these things. - -β. “Ordinary conception is now a sort of comprehension (κατάληψις), -or correct opinion or thought, or the universal indwelling power of -thinking; that is to say, it is the recollection of that which has -often appeared to us,”—the picture. “For instance, when I say, ‘this is -a man,’ I, with the help of previous perceptions, at once by my power -of representation recognize his form.” By dint of this repetition the -sensuous perception becomes a permanent conception in me, which asserts -itself; that is the real foundation of all that we hold true. These -representations are universal, but certainly the Epicureans have not -placed universality in the form of thinking, but only said it is caused -by frequency of appearance. This is further confirmed by the name which -is given to the image which has thus arisen within us. “Everything -has its evidence (ἐναργές) in the name first conferred on it.”[150] -The name is the ratification of the perception. The evidence which -Epicurus terms ἐνάργεια is just the recognition of the sensuous through -subsumption under the conceptions already possessed, and to which the -name gives permanence; the evidence of a conception is therefore this, -that we affirm an object perceptible by the senses to correspond with -the image. That is the acquiescence which we have found taking place -with the Stoics when thought gives its assent to a content; thought, -however, which recognizes the thing as its own, and receives it into -itself, with the Stoics remained formal only. With Epicurus the -unity of the conception of the object with itself exists also as a -remembrance in consciousness, which, however, proceeds from the senses; -the image, the conception, is what harmonizes with a sense-perception. -The recognition of the object is here an apprehension, not as an -object of thought, but as an object of imagination; for apprehension -belongs to recollection, to memory. The name, it is true, is something -universal, belongs to thinking, makes the manifold simple, yea, is in a -high degree ideal; but in such a way that its meaning and its content -are the sensuous, and are not thus to be counted as simple, but as -sensuous. In this way opinion is established instead of knowledge. - -γ. In the last place, opinion is nothing but the reference of -that general conception, which we have within us, to an object, a -perception, or to the testimony of the senses; and that is the passing -of a judgment. For in a conception we have anticipated that which comes -directly before our eyes; and by this standard we pronounce whether -something is a man, a tree, or not. “Opinion depends on something -already evident to us, to which we refer when we ask how we know that -this is a man or not. This opinion is also itself termed conception, -and it may be either true or false:—true, when what we see before -our eyes is corroborated or not contradicted by the testimony of the -conception; false in the opposite case.”[151] That is to say, in -opinion we apply a conception which we already possess, or the type, to -an object which is before us, and which we then examine to see if it -corresponds with our mental representation of it. Opinion is true if -it corresponds with the type; and it has its criterion in perceiving -whether it repeats itself as it was before or not. This is the whole of -the ordinary process in consciousness, when it begins to reflect. When -we have the conception, it requires the testimony that we have seen or -still see the object in question. From the sensuous perceptions blue, -sour, sweet, and so on, the general conceptions which we possess are -formed; and when an object again comes before us, we recognize that -this image corresponds with this object. This is the whole criterion, -and a very trivial process it is; for it goes no further than the first -beginnings of the sensuous consciousness, the immediate perception -of an object. The next stage is without doubt this, that the first -perception forms itself into a general image, and then the object which -is present is subsumed under the general image. That kind of truth -which anything has of which it can only be said that the evidence of -the senses does not contradict it, is possessed by the conceptions of -the unseen, for instance, the apprehension of heavenly phenomena: here -we cannot approach nearer, we can see something indeed, but we cannot -have the sensuous perception of it in its completeness; we therefore -apply to it what we already know by other perceptions, if there is -but some circumstance therein which is also present in that other -perception or conception (_supra_, p. 282). - -b. From these external perceptions of objects presently existing, with -which we here began, the affections, the internal perceptions, which -give the criteria for practical life are however distinguished; they -are of two kinds, either pleasant or unpleasant. That is to say, they -have as their content pleasure or satisfaction, and pain: the first, as -that which peculiarly belongs to the perceiver, is the positive; but -pain, as something alien to him, is the negative. It is these sensuous -perceptions which determine action; they are the material from which -general conceptions regarding what causes me pain or pleasure are -formed; as being permanent they are therefore again conceptions, and -opinion is again this reference of conception to perception, according -to which I pass judgment on objects—affections, desires, and so -on.[152] It is by this opinion, therefore, that the decision to do or -to avoid anything is arrived at. - -This constitutes the whole Canon of Epicurus, the universal standard -of truth; it is so simple that nothing can well be simpler, and yet it -is very abstract. It consists of ordinary psychological conceptions -which are correct on the whole, but quite superficial; it is the -mechanical view of conception having respect to the first beginnings -of observation. But beyond this there lies another and quite different -sphere, a field that contains determinations in themselves; and these -are the criteria by which the statements of Epicurus must be judged. -Nowadays even Sceptics are fond of speaking of facts of consciousness; -this sort of talk goes no further than the Epicurean Canon. - - -2. METAPHYSICS. - -In the second place, Epicurus enters on a metaphysical explanation of -how we are related to the object; for sensuous perception and outside -impressions he unhesitatingly regards as our relation to external -things, so that he places the conceptions in me, the objects outside -of me. In raising the question of how we come by our conceptions, -there lies a double question: on the one hand, since sense-perceptions -are not like conceptions, but require an external object, what is -the objective manner in which the images of external things enter -into us? On the other hand, it may be asked how conceptions of such -things as are not matter of perception arise in us; this seems to be -an activity of thought, which derives conceptions such as these from -other conceptions; we shall, however, see presently (pp. 287, 288) and -more in detail, how the soul, which is here related to the object in -independent activity, arrives at such a point. - -“From the surfaces of things,” says Epicurus in the first place, “there -passes off a constant stream, which cannot be detected by our senses” -(for things would in any other case decrease in size) and which is very -fine; “and this because, by reason of the counteracting replenishment, -the thing itself in its solidity long preserves the same arrangement -and disposition of the atoms; and the motion through the air of these -surfaces which detach themselves is of the utmost rapidity, because -it is not necessary that what is detached should have any thickness;” -it is only a surface. Epicurus says, “Such a conception does not -contradict our senses, when we take into consideration how pictures -produce their effects in a very similar way, I mean by bringing us into -sympathy with external things. Therefore emanations, like pictures, -pass out from them into us, so that we see and know the forms and -colours of things.”[153] This is a very trivial way of representing -sense-perception. Epicurus took for himself the easiest criterion of -the truth that is not seen, a criterion still in use, namely that it is -not contradicted by what we see or hear. For in truth such matters of -thought as atoms, the detachment of surfaces, and so forth, are beyond -our powers of sight. Certainly we manage to see and to hear something -different; but there is abundance of room for what is seen and what is -conceived or imagined to exist alongside of one another. If the two are -allowed to fall apart, they do not contradict each other; for it is not -until we relate them that the contradiction becomes apparent. - -“Error,” as Epicurus goes on to say on the second point “comes to pass -when, through the movement that takes place within us on the conception -therein wrought, such a change is effected that the conception can no -longer obtain for itself the testimony of perception. There would be no -truth, no likeness of our perceptions, which we receive as in pictures -or in dreams or in any other way, if there were nothing on which we, -as it were, put out our faculty of observation. There would be no -untruth if we did not receive into ourselves another movement, which, -to be sure, is conformable to the entering in of the conception, but -which has at the same time an interruption.”[154] Error is therefore, -according to Epicurus, only a displacement of the pictures in us, which -does not proceed from the movement of perception, but rather from this, -that we check their influence by a movement originating in ourselves; -how this interruption is brought about will be shown more fully later -on (pp. 290, 300). - -The Epicurean theory of knowledge reduces itself to these few passages, -some of which are also obscurely expressed, or else not very happily -selected or quoted by Diogenes Laërtius; it is impossible to have a -theory less explicitly stated. Knowledge, on the side of thought, is -determined merely as a particular movement which makes an interruption; -and as Epicurus, as we have already seen, looks on things as made up -of a multitude of atoms, thought is the moment which is different from -the atoms, the vacuum, the pores, whereby resistance to this stream of -atoms is rendered possible. If this negative is also again, as soul, -affirmative, Epicurus in the notional determination of thinking has -only reached this negativity, that we look away from something, _i.e._ -we interrupt that inflowing stream. The answer to the question of -what this interrupting movement exactly is, when taken for itself, is -connected with the more advanced conceptions of Epicurus; and in order -to discuss them more in detail, we must go back to the implicit basis -of his system. - -This constitutes on the whole the metaphysic of Epicurus; in it he has -expounded his doctrine of the atom, but not with greater definiteness -than did Leucippus and Democritus. The essence and the truth of things -were to him, as they were to them, atoms and vacuum: “Atoms have no -properties except figure, weight and magnitude.” Atoms, as atoms, must -remain undetermined; but the Atomists have been forced to take the -inconsistent course of ascribing properties to them: the quantitative -properties of magnitude and figure, the qualitative property of -weight. But that which is in itself altogether indivisible can have -neither figure nor magnitude; and even weight, direction upon something -else, is opposed to the abstract repulsion of the atom. Epicurus even -says: “Every property is liable to change, but the atoms change not. In -all dissolutions of the composite, something must remain a constant and -indissoluble, which no change can transform into that which is not, or -bring from non-being into Being. This unchangeable element, therefore, -is constituted by some bodies and figures. The properties are a certain -relation of atoms to each other.”[155] In like manner we have already -seen with Aristotle (p. 178) that the tangible is the foundation of -properties: a distinction which under various forms is still always -made and is in common use. We mean by this that an opposition is -established between fundamental properties, such as we here have in -weight, figure and magnitude, and sensuous properties, which are -only in relation to us, and are derived from the former original -differences. This has frequently been understood as if weight were in -things, while the other properties were only in our senses: but, in -general, the former is the moment of the implicit, or the abstract -essence of the thing, while the latter is its concrete existence, which -expresses its relation to other things. - -The important matter now would be to indicate the relation of atoms to -sensuous appearance, to allow essence to pass over into the negative: -but here Epicurus rambles amidst the indeterminate which expresses -nothing; for we perceive in him, as in the other physicists, nothing -but an unconscious medley of abstract ideas and realities. All -particular forms, all objects, light, colour, &c., the soul itself -even, are nothing but a certain arrangement of these atoms. This is -what Locke also said, and even now Physical Science declares that -the basis of things is found in molecules, which are arranged in a -certain manner in space. But these are empty words, and a crystal, -for instance, is not a certain arrangement of parts, which gives this -figure. It is thus not worth while to deal with this relation of atoms; -for it is an altogether formal way of speaking, as when Epicurus again -concedes that figure and magnitude, in so far as pertaining to atoms, -are something different from what they are as they appear in things. -The two are not altogether unlike; the one, implicit magnitude, has -something in common with apparent magnitude. The latter is transitory, -variable; the former has no interrupted parts,[156] that is, nothing -negative. But the determination of the atoms, as originally formed in -this or that fashion, and having original magnitude of such and such -a kind, is a purely arbitrary invention. That interruption, which we -regarded above (p. 288) as the other side to atoms, or as vacuum, is -the principle of movement: for the movement of thought is also like -this and has interruptions. Thought in man is the very same as atoms -and vacuum are in things, namely their inward essence; that is to say, -atoms and vacuum belong to the movement of thought, or exist for this -in the same way as things are in their essential nature. The movement -of thinking is thus the province of the atoms of the soul; so that -there takes place simultaneously therein an interruption of the inward -flow of atoms from without. There is therefore nothing further to be -seen in this than the general principle of the positive and negative, -so that even thought is affected by a negative principle, the moment of -interruption. This principle of the Epicurean system, further applied -to the difference in things, is the most arbitrary and therefore the -most wearisome that can be imagined. - -Besides their different figures, atoms have also, as the fundamental -mode in which they are affected, a difference of movement, caused -by their weight; but this movement to some extent deviates from the -straight line in its direction. That is to say, Epicurus ascribes -to atoms a curvilinear movement, in order that they may impinge -on one another and so on.[157] In this way there arise particular -accumulations and configurations; and these are things. - -Other physical properties, such as taste and smell, have their basis -again in another arrangement of the molecules. But there is no bridge -from this to that, or what results is simply empty tautology, according -to which the parts are arranged and combined as is requisite in order -that their appearance may be what it is. The transition to bodies -of concrete appearance Epicurus has either not made at all, or what -has been cited from him as far as this matter is concerned, taken by -itself, is extremely meagre. - -The opinion that one hears expressed respecting the Epicurean -philosophy is in other respects not unfavourable; and for this reason -some further details must be given regarding it. For since absolute -Being is constituted by atoms scattered and disintegrated, and by -vacuum, it directly follows that Epicurus denies to these atoms any -relationship to one another which implies purpose. All that we call -forms and organisms, or generally speaking, the unity of Nature’s -end, in his way of thinking, belongs to qualities, to an external -connection of the configurations of the atoms, which in this way is -merely an accident, brought about by their chance-directed motion; the -atoms accordingly form a merely superficial unity, and one which is -not essential to them. Or else Epicurus altogether denies that Notion -and the Universal are the essential, and because all originations are -to him chance combinations, for him their resolution is just as much -a matter of chance. The divided is the first and the truly existent, -but at the same time chance or external necessity is the law which -dominates all cohesion. That Epicurus should in this fashion declare -himself against a universal end in the world, against every relation -of purpose—as, for instance, the inherent conformity to purpose of the -organism—and, further, against the teleological representations of the -wisdom of a Creator in the world, his government, &c., is a matter of -course; for he abrogates unity, whatever be the manner in which we -represent it, whether as Nature’s end in itself, or as end which is -in another, but is carried out in Nature. In contrast to this, the -teleological view enters largely into the philosophy of the Stoics, -and is there very fully developed. To show that conformity to an end -is lacking, Epicurus brings forward the most trivial examples; for -instance, that worms and so on are produced by chance from mud through -the warmth of the sun. Taken in their entirety, they may very well be -the work of chance in relation to others; but what is implicit in them, -their Notion and essence is something organic: and the comprehension of -this is what we have now to consider. But Epicurus banishes thought as -implicit, without its occurring to him that his atoms themselves have -this very nature of thought; that is, their existence in time is not -immediate but essentially mediate, and thus negative or universal;—the -first and only inconsistency that we find in Epicurus, and one which -all empiricists are guilty of. The Stoics take the opposite course of -finding essential Being in the object of thought or the universal; and -they fail equally in reaching the content, temporal existence, which, -however, they most inconsistently assume. We have here the metaphysics -of Epicurus; nothing that he says farther on this head is of interest. - - -3. PHYSICS. - -The natural philosophy of Epicurus is based on the above foundation; -but an aspect of interest is given it by the fact that it is still -peculiarly the method of our times; his thoughts on particular aspects -of Nature are, however, in themselves feeble and of little weight, -containing nothing but an ill-considered medley of all manner of loose -conceptions. Going further, the principle of the manner in which -Epicurus looks on nature, lies in the conceptions he forms, which we -have already had before us (pp. 282, 285). That is to say, the general -representations which we receive through the repetition of several -perceptions, and to which we relate such perceptions in forming an -opinion, must be then applied to that which is not exactly matter of -perception, but yet has something in common with what we can perceive. -In this way it comes about that by such images we can apprehend the -unknown which does not lend itself immediately to perception; for from -what is known we must argue to what is unknown. This is nothing else -but saying that Epicurus judged by analogy, or that he makes so-called -evidence the principle of his view of Nature; and this is the principle -which to this day has authority in ordinary physical science. We go -through experiences and make observations, these arising from the -sensuous perceptions which are apt to be overlooked. Thus we reach -general concepts, laws, forces, and so on, electricity and magnetism, -for instance, and these are then applied by us to such objects and -activities as we cannot ourselves directly perceive. As an example, we -know about the nerves and their connection with the brain; in order -that there may be feeling and so on, it is said that a transmission -from the finger-tips to the brain takes place. But how can we represent -this to ourselves? We cannot make it a matter of observation. By -anatomy we can lay bare the nerves, it is true, but not the manner -of their working. We represent these to ourselves on the analogy of -other phenomena of transmission, for instance as the vibration of a -tense string that passes through the nerves to the brain. As in the -well-known phenomenon of a number of billiard balls set close together -in a row, the last of which rolls away when the first is struck, while -those in the middle, through each of which the effect of the stroke has -been communicated to the next, scarcely seem to move, so we represent -to ourselves the nerves as consisting of tiny balls which are invisible -even through the strongest magnifying glass, and fancy that at every -touch, &c., the last springs off and strikes the soul. In the same way -light is represented as filaments, rays, or as vibrations of the ether, -or as globules of ether, each of which strikes on the other. This is an -analogy quite in the manner of Epicurus. - -In giving such explanations as those above, Epicurus professed to -be most liberal, fair and tolerant, saying that all the different -conceptions which occur to us in relation to sensuous objects—at our -pleasure, we may say,—can be referred to that which we cannot ourselves -directly observe; we should not assert any one way to be the right one, -for many ways may be so. In so saying, Epicurus is talking idly; his -words fall on the ear and the fancy, but looked on more narrowly they -disappear. So, for instance, we see the moon shine, without being able -to have any nearer experience of it. On this subject Epicurus says: -“The moon may have its own light, or a light borrowed from the sun; for -even on earth we see things which shine of themselves, and many which -are illuminated by others. Nothing hinders us from observing heavenly -things in the light of various previous experiences, and from adopting -hypotheses and explanations in accordance with these. The waxing and -waning of the moon may also be caused by the revolution of this body, -or through changes in the air” (according as vapour is modified in one -way or another), “or also by means of adding and taking away somewhat: -in short, in all the ways whereby that which has a certain appearance -to us is caused to show such appearance.” Thus there are to be found in -Epicurus all these trivialities of friction, concussion, &c., as when -he gives his opinion of lightning on the analogy of how we see fire of -other kinds kindled: “Lightning is explained by quite a large number -of possible conceptions; for instance, that through the friction and -collision of clouds the figuration of fire is emitted, and lightning -is produced.” In precisely the same way modern physicists transfer the -production of an electric spark, when glass and silk are rubbed against -each other, to the clouds. For, as we see a spark both in lightning and -electricity, we conclude from this circumstance common to both that the -two are analogical; therefore, we come to the conclusion that lightning -also is an electric phenomenon. But clouds are not hard bodies, and -by moisture electricity is more likely to be dispersed; therefore, -such talk has just as little truth in it as the fancy of Epicurus. He -goes on to say: “Or lightning may also be produced by being expelled -from the clouds by means of the airy bodies which form lightning—by -being struck out when the clouds are pressed together either by each -other or by the wind,” &c. With the Stoics things are not much better. -Application of sensuous conceptions according to analogy is often -termed comprehension or explanation, but in reality there is in such -a process not the faintest approach to thought or comprehension. “One -man,” adds Epicurus, “may select; one of these modes, and reject the -others, not considering what is possible for man to know, and what is -impossible, and therefore striving to attain to a knowledge of the -unknowable.”[158] - -This application of sensuous images to what has a certain similarity -to them, is pronounced to be the basis and the knowledge of the -cause, because, in his opinion, a transference such as this cannot -be corroborated by the testimony of mere immediate sensation; thus -the Stoic method of seeking a basis in thought is excluded, and in -this respect the mode of explanation adopted by Epicurus is directly -opposed to that of the Stoics. One circumstance which strikes us at -once in Epicurus is the lack of observation and experience with regard -to the mutual relations of bodies: but the kernel of the matter, the -principle, is nothing else than the principle of modern physics. This -method of Epicurus has been attacked and derided, but on this score no -one need be ashamed of or fight shy of it, if he is a physicist; for -what Epicurus says is not a whit worse than what the moderns assert. -Indeed, in the case of Epicurus the satisfactory assurance is likewise -always present of his emphasizing the fact most strongly that just -because the evidence of the senses is found to be lacking, we must -not take our stand on any one analogy. Elsewhere he in the same way -makes light of analogy, and when one person accepts this possibility -and another that other possibility, he admires the cleverness of the -second and troubles himself little about the explanation given by -the first; it may be so, or it may not be so.[159] This is a method -devoid of reason, which reaches no further than to general conceptions. -Nevertheless, if Physical Science is considered to relate to immediate -experience on the one hand, and, on the other hand—in respect of that -which cannot be immediately experienced—to relate to the application -of the above according to a resemblance existing between it and that -which is not matter of experience, in that case Epicurus may well be -looked on as the chief promoter, if not the originator of this method, -and also as having asserted that it is identical with knowledge. Of the -Epicurean method in philosophy we may say this, that it likewise has -a side on which it possesses value, and we may in some measure assent -when we hear, as we frequently do, the Epicurean physics favourably -spoken of. Aristotle and the earlier philosophers took their start in -natural philosophy from universal thought _a priori_, and from this -developed the Notion; this is the one side. The other side, which is -just as necessary, demands that experience should be worked up into -universality, that laws should be found out; that is to say, that the -result which follows from the abstract Idea should coincide with the -general conception to which experience and observation have led up. -The _a priori_ is with Aristotle, for instance, most excellent but not -sufficient, because to it there is lacking connection with and relation -to experience and observation. This leading up of the particular to the -universal is the finding out of laws, natural forces, and so on. It may -thus be said that Epicurus is the inventor of empiric Natural Science, -of empiric Psychology. In contrast to the Stoic ends, conceptions of -the understanding, experience is the present as it appears to the -senses: there we have abstract limited understanding, without truth -in itself, and therefore without the present in time and the reality -of Nature; here we have this sense of Nature, which is more true than -these other hypotheses. - -The same effect which followed the rise of a knowledge of natural laws, -&c., in the modern world was produced by the Epicurean philosophy in -its own sphere, that is to say, in so far as it is directed against -the arbitrary invention of causes. The more, in later times, men -made acquaintance with the laws of Nature, the more superstition, -miracles, astrology, &c. disappeared; all this fades away owing to -the contradiction offered to it by the knowledge of natural laws. The -method of Epicurus was directed more especially against the senseless -superstition of astrology, &c., in whose methods there is neither -reason nor thought, for it is quite a thing of the imagination, -downright fabrication being resorted to, or what we may even term -lying. In contrast with this, the way in which Epicurus works, when -the conceptions and not thought are concerned, accords with truth. For -it does not go beyond what is perceived by the sight, and hearing, -and the other senses, but keeps to what is present and not alien to -the mind, not speaking of certain things as if they could be seen and -heard, when that is quite impossible, seeing that the things are pure -inventions. The effect of the Epicurean philosophy in its own time was -therefore this, that it set itself against the superstition of the -Greeks and Romans, and elevated men above it.[160] All the nonsense -about birds flying to right or to left, or a hare running across the -path, or men deciding how they are to act according to the entrails of -animals, or according as chickens are lively or dull—all that kind of -superstition the Epicurean philosophy made short work of, by permitting -that only to be accepted as truth which is counted as true by sense -perception through the instrumentality of anticipations; and from it -more than anything those conceptions which have altogether denied the -supersensuous have proceeded. The physics of Epicurus were therefore -famous for the reason that they introduced more enlightened views -in regard to what is physical, and banished the fear of the gods. -Superstition passes straightway from immediate appearances to God, -angels, demons; or it expects from finite things other effects than the -conditions admit of, phenomena of a higher kind. To this the Epicurean -natural philosophy is utterly opposed, because in the sphere of the -finite it refuses to go beyond the finite, and admits finite causes -alone; for the so-called enlightenment is the fact of remaining in the -sphere of the finite. There connection is sought for in other finite -things, in conditions which are themselves conditioned; superstition, -on the contrary, rightly or wrongly, passes at once to what is above -us. However correct the Epicurean method may be in the sphere of -the conditioned, it is not so in other spheres. Thus if I say that -electricity comes from God, I am right and yet wrong. For if I ask for -a cause in this same sphere of the conditioned, and give God as answer, -I say too much; though this answer fits all questions, since God is -the cause of everything, what I would know here is the particular -connection of the phenomenon. On the other hand, in this sphere even -the Notion is already something higher; but this loftier way of looking -at things which we met with in the earlier philosophers, was quite put -an end to by Epicurus, since with superstition there also passed away -self-dependent connection and the world of the Ideal. - -To the natural philosophy of Epicurus there also belongs his conception -of the soul, which he looks on as having the nature of a thing, just -as the theories of our own day regard it as nerve-filaments, cords -in tension, or rows of minute balls (p. 294). His description of the -soul has therefore but little meaning, since here also he draws his -conclusion by analogy, and connects therewith the metaphysical theory -of atoms: “The soul consists of the finest and roundest atoms, which -are something quite different from fire, being a fine spirit which -is distributed through the whole aggregate of the body, and partakes -of its warmth.” Epicurus has consequently established a quantitative -difference only, since these finest atoms are surrounded by a mass of -coarser atoms and dispersed through this larger aggregate. “The part -which is devoid of reason is dispersed in the body” as the principle -of life, “but the self-conscious part (τὸ λογικόν) is in the breast, -as may be perceived from joy and sadness. The soul is capable of much -change in itself, owing to the fineness of its parts, which can move -very rapidly: it sympathizes with the rest of the aggregate, as we see -by the thoughts, emotions and so on; but when it is taken away from us -we die. But the soul, on its part, has also the greatest sympathy with -sensuous perception; yet it would have nothing in common with it, were -it not in a certain measure covered by the rest of the aggregate” (the -body)—an utterly illogical conception. “The rest of this aggregate, -which this principle provides for the soul, is thereby also partaker, -on its part, of a like condition” (sensuous perception), “yet not of -all that the former possesses; therefore, when the soul escapes, -sensuous perception exists no more for it. The aggregate spoken of -above has not this power in itself, but derives it from the other which -is brought into union with it, and the sentient movement comes to pass -through the flow of sympathy which they have in common.”[161] Of such -conceptions it is impossible to make anything. The above-mentioned -(p. 287) interruption of the streaming together of images of external -things with our organs, as the ground of error, is now explained by -the theory that the soul consists of peculiar atoms, and the atoms -are separated from one another by vacuum. With such empty words and -meaningless conceptions we shall no longer detain ourselves; we can -have no respect for the philosophic thoughts of Epicurus, or rather he -has no thoughts for us to respect. - - -4. ETHICS. - -Besides this description of the soul the philosophy of mind contains -the ethics of Epicurus, which of all his doctrines are the most -decried, and therefore the most interesting; they may, however, -also be said to constitute the best part of that philosophy. The -practical philosophy of Epicurus depends on the individuality of -self-consciousness, just as much as does that of the Stoics; and the -end of his ethics is in a measure the same, the unshaken tranquillity -of the soul, and more particularly an undisturbed pure enjoyment of -itself. Of course, if we regard the abstract principle involved in -the ethics of Epicurus, our verdict cannot be other than exceedingly -unfavourable. For if sensation, the feeling of pain and pleasure, is -the criterion for the right, good, true, for that which man should -make his aim in life, morality is really abrogated, or the moral -principle is in fact not moral; at least we hold that the way is -thereby opened up to all manner of arbitrariness in action. If it is -now alleged that feeling is the ground of action, and that because I -find a certain impulse in myself it is for that reason right—this is -Epicurean reasoning. Everyone may have different feelings, and the -same person, may feel differently at different times; in the same way -with Epicurus it may be left to the subjectivity of the individual to -determine the course of action. But it is of importance to notice this, -that when Epicurus sets tip pleasure as the end, he concedes this only -so far as its enjoyment is the result of philosophy. We have before now -remarked (vol. i., p. 470) that even with the Cyrenaics, while on the -one hand sensation was certainly made the principle, on the other hand -it was essential that thought should be in intimate connection with -it. Similarly it is the case with Epicurus that while he designated -pleasure as the criterion of the good, he demanded a highly cultured -consciousness, a power of reflection, which weighs pleasure to see if -it is not combined with a greater degree of pain, and in this way forms -a correct estimate of what it is. Diogenes Laërtius (X. 144) quotes -from him with regard to this point of view: “The wise man owes but -little to chance; Reason attains what is of the greatest consequence, -and both directs it and will direct it his whole life long.” The -particular pleasure is therefore regarded only with reference to the -whole, and sensuous perception is not the one and only principle of -the Epicureans; but while they made pleasure the principle, they made -a principle at the same time of that happiness which is attained, -and only attainable by reason; so that this happiness is to be -sought in such a way that it may be free and independent of external -contingencies, the contingencies of sensation. The true Epicureans were -therefore, just as much as the Stoics, raised above all particular -ties, for Epicurus, too, made his aim the undisturbed tranquillity of -the wise man. In order to be free from superstition Epicurus specially -requires physical science, as it sets men free from all the opinions -which most disturb their rest—opinions regarding the gods, and their -punishments, and more particularly from the thought of death.[162] -Freed from all this fear, and from the imaginings of the men who make -any particular object their end and aim, the wise man seeks pleasure -only as something universal, and holds this alone to be positive. Here -the universal and the particular meet; or the particular, regarded only -in its bearings to the whole, is raised into the form of universality. -Thus it happens that, while materially, or as to content, Epicurus -makes individuality a principle, on the other hand he requires the -universality of thinking, and his philosophy is thus in accordance with -that of the Stoics. - -Seneca, who is known as a thorough-going and uncompromising Stoic, when -in his treatise _De Vita Beata_ (c. 12, 13) he happens to speak of the -Epicureans, gives testimony which is above suspicion to the ethical -system of Epicurus: “My verdict is, however—and in thus speaking I -go, to some extent, against many of my own countrymen—that the moral -precepts of Epicurus prescribe a way of life that is holy and just, -and, when closely considered, even sorrowful. For every pleasure of -Epicurus turns on something very paltry and poor, and we scarcely know -how restricted it is, and how insipid. The self-same law which we lay -down for virtue he prescribes for pleasure; he requires that Nature be -obeyed; but very little in the way of luxury is required to satisfy -Nature. What have we then here? He who calls a lazy, self-indulgent, -and dissolute life happiness merely seeks a good authority for a thing -that is evil, and while, drawn on by a dazzling name, he turns in the -direction where he hears the praise of pleasure sounding, he does not -follow the pleasures to which he is invited by Epicurus, but those -which he himself brings with him. Men who thus abandon themselves -to crime seek only to hide their wickedness under the mantle of -philosophy, and to furnish for their excesses a pretext and an excuse. -Thus it is by no means permitted that youth should hold up its head -again for the reason that to the laxity of its morality an honourable -title has been affixed.” By the employment of our reflective powers, -which keep guard over pleasure and consider whether there can be any -enjoyment in that which is fraught with dangers, fear, anxiety and -other troubles, the possibility of our obtaining pleasure pure and -unalloyed is reduced to a minimum. The principle of Epicurus is to live -in freedom and ease, and with the mind at rest, and to this end it is -needful to renounce much of that which men allow to sway them, and in -which they find their pleasure. The life of a Stoic is therefore but -little different from that of an Epicurean who keeps well before his -eyes what Epicurus enjoins. - -It might perhaps occur to us that the Cyrenaics had the same moral -principle as the Epicureans, but Diogenes Laërtius (X. 139, 136, 137) -shows us the difference that there was between them. The Cyrenaics -rather made pleasure as a particular thing their end, while Epicurus, -on the contrary, regarded it as a means, since he asserted painlessness -to be pleasure, and allowed of no intermediate state. “Neither do the -Cyrenaics recognize pleasure in rest (καταστηματικήν), but only in the -determination of motion,” or as something affirmative, that consists -in the enjoyment of the pleasant; “Epicurus, on the contrary, admits -both—the pleasure of the body as well as that of the soul.” He meant -by this that pleasure in rest is negative, as the absence of the -unpleasant, and also an inward contentment, whereby rest is maintained -within the mind. Epicurus explained these two kinds of pleasure more -clearly as follows: “Freedom from fear and desire (ἀταραξία) and from -pain and trouble (ἀπονία) are the passive pleasures (καταστηματικὶα -ἡδοναί),”—the setting of our affections on nothing which we may run the -risk of losing; pleasures of the senses, on the other hand, like “joy -and mirth (χαρὰ δὲ καὶ εὐφροσύνη), are pleasures involving movement -(κατὰ κίνησιν ἐνεργείᾳ βλέπονται.9)” The former pleasures Epicurus held -to be the truest and highest. “Besides this, pain of the body was held -by the Cyrenaics to be worse than sorrow of the soul, while with the -Epicureans this is reversed.” - -The main teaching of Epicurus in respect of morals is contained in a -letter to Men\nceus, which Diogenes Laërtius has preserved, and in -which Epicurus expresses himself as follows: “The youth must neither -be slow to study philosophy, nor must the old man feel it a burden, -for no one is either too young or too old to study the health of his -soul. We must therefore endeavour to find out wherein the happy life -consists; the following are its elements: First, we must hold that -God is a living Being, incorruptible and happy, as the general belief -supposes Him to be; and that nothing is lacking to His incorruptibility -nor to His happiness. But though the existence of the gods is known -to be a fact, yet they are not such as the multitude suppose them to -be. He is therefore not impious who discards his faith in the gods of -the multitude, but he who applies to them the opinions entertained of -them by the mass.” By these gods of Epicurus we can understand nothing -else than the Holy, the Universal, in concrete form. The Stoics held -more to the ordinary conception, without indeed giving much thought -to the Being of God; with the Epicureans, on the other hand, the gods -express an immediate Idea of the system. Epicurus says: “That which is -holy and incorruptible has itself no trouble nor causes it to others; -therefore it is unstirred by either anger or show of favour, for it is -in weakness only that such find a place. The gods may be known by means -of Reason; they consist partly in Number; others are the perfected -type of man, which, owing to the similarity of the images, arises -from the continuous confluence of like images on one and the same -subject.”[163] The gods are thus the altogether general images which -we receive into ourselves; and Cicero says (De Natura Deorum, 18, 38) -that they come singly upon us in sleep. This general image, which is -at the same time an anthropomorphic conception, is the same to which -we give the name of Ideal, only that here the source assigned to it is -the reiterated occurrence of images. The gods thus seem to Epicurus to -be Ideals of the holy life; they are also existent things, consisting -of the finest atoms; they are, however, pure souls, unmixed with any -grosser element, and therefore exempt from toil and trouble and pain. -Their self-enjoyment is wholly passive, as it must be if consistent, -for action has always in it something alien, the opposition of itself -and reality, and the toil and trouble which are involved in it really -represent the aspect of consciousness of opposition rather than that -of realization. The gods lead an existence of pure and passive self -enjoyment, and trouble themselves not with the affairs of the world -and of men. Epicurus goes on to say: “Men must pay reverence to the -gods on account of the perfection of their nature and their surpassing -holiness, not in order to gain from them some special good, or for the -sake of this or that advantage,”[164] The manner in which Epicurus -represents the gods as corporeal Beings in human likeness has been -much derided; thus Cicero, for instance, in the passage quoted (c. 18) -laughs at Epicurus for alleging that the gods have only _quasi_ bodies, -flesh and blood. But from this there follows only that they are, as it -were, the implicit, as we see it stated of the soul and things palpable -to the senses, that they have behind them what is implicit. Our talk -of qualities is no better; for if justice, goodness, and so on, are to -be taken _in sensu eminentiori_, and not as they are with men, we have -in God a Being in the same way possessed of only something resembling -justice and the other qualities. With this there is closely connected -the theory of Epicurus that the gods dwell in vacant space, in the -intermediate spaces of the world, where they are exposed neither to -rain or wind or snow or the like.[165] For the intermediate spaces are -the vacuum, wherein, as the principle of movement, are the atoms in -themselves. Worlds, as phenomena, are complete continuous concretions -of such atoms, but concretions which are only external relations. -Between them, as in vacuum, there are thus these Beings also, which -themselves are certainly concretions of atoms, but concretions which -remain implicit. Yet this leads only to confusion, if a closer -definition is given, for concretion constitutes what is for the senses, -but the gods, even if they were concretions, would not be realities -exactly such as these. In illogical fashion the general, the implicit, -is taken out of reality and set above it, not as atoms, but just as -before, as a combination of these atoms; in this way this combination -is not itself the sensuous. This seems ridiculous, but it is connected -with the interruptions spoken of, and with the relation of the vacuum -to the plenum, the atom. So far, therefore, the gods belong to the -category of negativity as against sensuality, and as this negative is -thought, in that sense what Epicurus said of the gods may still to -some extent be said. To this determination of God a larger measure of -objectivity of course belongs, but it is a perfectly correct assertion -that God, as Thought, is a holy Being, to whom reverence is due for -His own sake alone. The first element in a happy life is therefore -reverence for the gods, uninfluenced by fear or hope. - -Further, a second point with Epicurus is the contemplation of death, -the negative of existence, of self-consciousness in man; he requires -us to have a true conception of death, because otherwise it disturbs -our tranquillity. He accordingly says: “Accustom thyself then to the -thought that death concerns us not; for all good and evil is a matter -of sensation, but death is a deprivation (στέρησις) of sensation. -Therefore the true reflection that death is no concern of ours, -makes our mortal life one of enjoyment, since this thought does not -add an endless length of days, but does away with the longing after -immortality. For nothing in life has terrors for him who has once truly -recognized the fact that not to live is not a matter of dread. Thus it -is a vain thing to fear death, not because its presence but because -the anticipation of it brings us pain. For how can the anticipation -of a thing pain us when its reality does not? There is therefore in -death nothing to trouble us. For when we are in life, death is not -there, and when death is there, we are not. Therefore death does not -concern either the living or the dead.” This is quite correct, if we -look at the immediate; it is a thought full of meaning, and drives away -fear. Mere privation, which death is, is not to be confounded with the -feeling of being alive, which is positive; and there is no reason for -worrying oneself about it. “But the future in general is neither ours, -nor is it not ours; hence we must not count upon it as something that -will come to pass, nor yet despair of it, as if it would not come to -pass.”[166] It is no concern of ours either that it is or that it is -not; and it need not therefore cause us uneasiness. This the right way -in which to regard the future also. - -Epicurus passes on to speak of impulses, saying: “This moreover is -to be kept in mind, that amongst impulses some are natural, but -others are vain; and of those that are natural some are necessary -while others are natural only. Those that are necessary are either -necessary to happiness, or tend to save the body from pain, or to -self-preservation in general. The perfect theory teaches how to choose -that which promotes health of body and steadfastness of soul, and how -to reject what impairs them, this being the aim of the holy life. -This is the end of all our actions, to have neither pain of body nor -uneasiness of mind. If we but attain to this, all turmoil of the soul -is stilled, since the life no longer has to strive after something -which it needs, and no longer has to seek anything outside of itself -by which the welfare of soul and body is arrived at. But even on the -supposition that pleasure is the first and the inborn good, we do not -for that reason choose all pleasures, but many we renounce, when they -are more than counterbalanced by their painful results; and many pains -we prefer to pleasures, if there follows from them a pleasure that -is greater. Contentment we hold to be a good, not that we may aim at -merely reducing our requirements to a minimum, as the Cynics did, but -that we may seek not to be discontented even when we have not very -much, knowing that they most enjoy abundance who can do without it, and -that what is naturally desired is easy to procure, while what is a mere -idle fancy can be procured only with difficulty. Simple dishes afford -just as much enjoyment as costly banquets, if they appease hunger. -Therefore when we make pleasure our aim, it is not the enjoyments of -the gourmand, as is often falsely thought, but freedom from both pain -of body and uneasiness of mind. We attain to this life of happiness by -sober reason alone, which examines the grounds of all choice and all -rejection, and expels the thoughts by which the soul’s rest is most -disturbed. It is surely better to be unhappy and reasonable than to be -happy and unreasonable; for it is better that in our actions we should -judge correctly than that we should be favoured by luck. Meditate on -this day and night, and let thyself be shaken by nought from thy peace -of soul, that thou mayest live as a god amongst men; for the man who -lives amongst such imperishable treasures has nothing in common with -mortal men. Of all those the first and foremost is reasonableness -(φρόνησις), which on this account is still more excellent than -philosophy; from it spring all the other virtues. For they show that -one cannot live happily, unless he lives wisely and honourably and -justly: nor can he live wisely and honourably and justly without living -happily.”[167] - -Therefore, although at first sight there seems not much to be said for -the principle of Epicurus, nevertheless by means of the inversion of -making the guiding principle to be found in thought proceeding from -Reason, it passes into Stoicism, as even Seneca himself has admitted -(_v. supra_, pp. 302, 303); and actually the same result is reached -as with the Stoics. Hence the Epicureans describe their wise man in -at least as glowing terms as the Stoics do theirs; and in both these -systems the wise man is depicted with the same qualities, these being -negative. With the Stoics the Universal is the essential principle,—not -pleasure, the self-consciousness of the particular as particular; but -the reality of this self-consciousness is equally something pleasant. -With the Epicureans pleasure is the essential principle, but pleasure -sought and enjoyed in such a way that it is pure and unalloyed, that -is to say, in accordance with sound judgment, and with no greater evil -following to destroy it: therefore pleasure is regarded in its whole -extent, that is, as being itself a universal. In Diogenes Laërtius, -however (X. 117-121), the Epicurean delineation of the wise man has a -character of greater mildness; he shapes his conduct more according to -laws already in operation, while the Stoic wise man, on the other hand, -does not take these into account at all. The Epicurean wise man is less -combative than the Stoic, because the latter makes his starting-point -the thought of self-dependence, which, while denying self, exercises -activity: the Epicureans, on the other hand, proceed from the thought -of existence, which is not so exacting, and seeks not so much this -activity directed outwards, as rest; this, however, is not won by -lethargy, but by the highest mental culture. Yet although the content -of the Epicurean philosophy, its aim and result, stands thus on as high -a level as the Stoic philosophy, and is its exact parallel, the two -are nevertheless in other respects directly opposed to one another; -but each of these systems is one-sided, and therefore both of them -are dogmatisms inconsistent with themselves by the necessity of the -Notion, that is, they contain the contrary principle within them. The -Stoics take the content of their thought from Being, from the sensuous, -demanding that thought should be the thought of something existent: the -Epicureans, on the contrary, extend their particularity of existence -to the atoms which are only things of thought, and to pleasure as a -universal; but in accordance with their respective principles, both -schools know themselves to be definitely opposed to each other. - -The negative mean to these one-sided principles is the Notion, which, -abrogating fixed extremes of determination such as these, moves them -and sets them free from a mere state of opposition. This movement of -the Notion, the revival of dialectic—directed as it is against these -one-sided principles of abstract thinking and sensation—we now see in -its negative aspect, both in the New Academy and in the Sceptics. Even -the Stoics, as having their principle in thought, cultivated dialectic, -though theirs was (pp. 254, 255) a common logic, in which the form of -simplicity passes for the Notion, while the Notion, as such, represents -the negative element in it, and dissolves the determinations, which are -taken up into that simplicity. There is a higher form of the Notion of -dialectic reality, which not only applies itself to sensuous existence, -but also to determinate Notions, and which brings to consciousness the -opposition between thought and existence; not expressing the Universal -as simple Idea, but as a universality in which all comes back into -consciousness as an essential moment of existence. In Scepticism we now -really have an abrogation of the two one-sided systems that we have -hitherto dealt with; but this negative remains negative only, and is -incapable of passing into an affirmative. - - -C. THE NEW ACADEMY. - -As opposed to the Stoic and Epicurean Dogmatism, we first of all have -the New Academy, which is a continuation of Plato’s Academy in as far -as the followers of Plato are divided into the Old, Middle, and New -Academies; some indeed allow of a fourth Academy and even a fifth.[168] -The most noteworthy figures here are those of Arcesilaus and Carneades. -The establishment of the Middle Academy is ascribed to Arcesilaus, -and the New Academy is said to contain the philosophy of Carneades; -but this distinction has no signification. Both of these are closely -connected with Scepticism, and the Sceptics themselves have often -trouble in distinguishing their standpoint from the Academic principle. -Both have been claimed by Scepticism as Sceptics, but between the -Academics and pure Scepticism a distinction has been drawn, which is -certainly very formal, and has but little signification, but to which -the Sceptics in their subtlety undoubtedly attached some meaning. The -distinction often consists in the meanings of words only, and in quite -external differences. - -The standpoint of the Academics is that they express the truth as a -subjective conviction of self-consciousness; and this tallies with the -subjective idealism of modern times. The truth, in so far as it is only -a subjective conviction, has hence been called, by the New Academy, -the _probable_. Although followers of Plato, and hence, Platonists, -the Academicians did not remain at the standpoint of Plato, nor could -they have done so. But we easily see the connection of this principle -with the Platonic doctrines, if we recollect that with Plato the Idea -has been the principle, and that, indeed, on the whole, in the form -of universality. Plato remained, as we saw above (pp. 139, 140), in -the abstract Idea; to him the one great matter in Philosophy is to -combine the infinite and finite. Plato’s Ideas are derived from the -necessities of reason, from enthusiasm for the truth, but they are in -themselves devoid of movement, and only universal, while Aristotle -demands actuality, self-determining activity. Plato’s dialectic has -only attempted to assert the universal as such, and to demonstrate the -determinate and particular to be null, thus leaving nothing at all but -abstract universality. His dialectic has hence very often a negative -result, in which determinations are merely done away with and annulled. -With Plato the working out of the concrete has thus not gone far, and -where he, as in the Timæus, proceeds into the determinate, _e.g._ of -organic life, he becomes infinitely trivial and quite unspeculative, -while with Aristotle matters are very different. The necessity for a -scientific ground has necessarily caused us to be carried on beyond -this Platonic point of view. The Stoics and Epicureans were imbued -with the scientific necessity, not yet recognized by Plato, of giving -a content to the universal of the Idea, _i.e._ of grasping particular -determinateness, but the succeeding Academicians stand in a negative -attitude to them in this regard. To the end they made a point of -holding to the Platonic universality, uniting to this the Platonic -dialectic also. The principle of the New Academy could thus, like the -Platonic dialectic, possess a dialectic attitude and bearing which -proceeded to nothing affirmative; as, indeed, in many of Plato’s -dialogues, mere confusion is what is arrived at. But while with Plato -the affirmative result is essentially the result of dialectic, so that -with him we have really found the universal Idea as species, during all -this time, on the other hand, the tendency to abstract apprehension -is predominant; and as this showed itself in the Stoic and Epicurean -philosophy, it has also extended to the Platonic Idea and degraded it -into being a form of the understanding. Plato’s Ideas were thus torn -from their rest through thought, because in such universality thought -has not yet recognized itself as self-consciousness. Self-consciousness -confronted them with great pretensions, actuality in general asserted -itself against universality; and the rest of the Idea necessarily -passed into the movement of thought. This movement now, however, in -the New Academy turned dialectically against the determination of the -Stoics and Epicureans, which rested on the fact that the criterion of -the truth ought to be a concrete. For example, in the conception as -comprehended by the Stoics, there is a thought which likewise has a -content, although, again, this union still remains very formal. But the -two forms in which the dialectic of the New Academy turns against this -concrete, are represented by Arcesilaus and Carneades. - - -1. ARCESILAUS. - -Arcesilaus kept to the abstraction of the Idea as against the -criterion; for though in the Idea of Plato, _i.e._ in the Timæus and in -his dialectic, the concrete was derived from quite another source, this -was only admitted for the first time later on by the Neo-platonists, -who really recognized the unity of the Platonic and the Aristotelian -principles. The opposition to the Dogmatists thus does not in the case -of Arcesilaus proceed from the dialectic of the Sceptics, but from -keeping to abstraction; and here we perceive the gulf marking out this -epoch from any other. - -Arcesilaus was born at Pitane in Æolia in the 116th Olympiad (318 -B.C.), and was a contemporary of Epicurus and Zeno. Though he -originally belonged to the Old Academy, yet the spirit of the time and -the progressive development of Philosophy did not now admit of the -simplicity of the Platonic manner. He possessed considerable means, and -devoted himself entirely to the studies requisite for the education -of a noble Greek, viz. to rhetoric, poetry, music, mathematics, &c. -Mainly for the purpose of exercising himself in rhetoric, he came to -Athens, here was introduced to Philosophy, and lived henceforth for -its sake alone; he held intercourse with Theophrastus, Zeno, &c., -and it is a subject of dispute whether he did not hear Pyrrho also. -Arcesilaus, familiar with all the Philosophy of those days, was by -his contemporaries held to be as noble a man as he was a subtle and -acute philosopher; being without pride in himself, he recognized the -merits of others. He lived in Athens, occupied the post of scholarch -in the Academy, and was thus a successor of Plato. After the death -of Crates, the successor of Speusippus, the place of honour in the -Academy devolved on Sosicrates, but he willingly gave it up in favour -of Arcesilaus on account of the superiority of the latter in talent -and philosophy. What really happened as regards the transference -of the chair to others, is, for the rest, unknown to us. He filled -this office, in which he made use of the method of disputation, with -approbation and applause, until his death, which took place in Olympiad -134, 4 (244 B.C.), in the seventy-fourth year of his age.[169] - -The principal points in the philosophy of Arcesilaus are preserved -by Cicero in his _Academics Quæstiones_, but Sextus Empiricus is -more valuable as an authority, for he is more thorough, definite, -philosophic and systematic. - -_a._ This philosophy is specially known to us as being a dialectic -directed against Stoicism, with which Arcesilaus had much to do, and -its result, as far as its main principles are concerned, is expressed -thus: “The wise man must restrain his approbation and assent.”[170] -This principle was called ἐποχή, and it is the same as that of the -Sceptics; on the other hand this expression is connected with the -principle of the Stoics as follows. Because to Stoic philosophy truth -consists in the fact that thought declares some content of existence to -be its own, and the conception as comprehended gives its approbation -to this content, the content of our conceptions, principles and -thoughts undoubtedly appears to be different from thought, and the -union of the two, which is the concrete, only arises by means of some -determinate content being taken up into the form of thought and thus -being expressed as the truth. But Arcesilaus saw this consequence, -and his saying that approbation most be withheld is thus as much as -saying that by thus taking up the content no truth comes to pass, but -only phenomenon; and this is true, because, as Arcesilaus puts it, -conception and thought likewise remain apart. Arcesilaus has certainly -unthinkingly allowed that this content united to consciousness is -a concrete such as was indicated, only he has asserted that this -connection merely gives a perception with a good ground, and not -what he calls truth. This is called probability, but not quite -appropriately; it is a universal set forth through the form of thought, -and is only formal, having no absolute truth. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. -33, § 233) puts this plainly in saying that “Arcesilaus has declared -the withholding of approbation in relation to parts, to be a good, but -the assenting to parts to be an evil,” because the assent only concerns -_parts_. That is, if thought is to be retained as a universal, it -cannot come to be a criterion; and that is the meaning of Arcesilaus -when he asks that the wise man should remain at the universal, and not -go on to the determinate as if this determinate were the truth. - -Sextus Empiricus gives us (adv. Math. VII. 155, 151-153) a more -particular explanation of this philosophy, which is preserved to us -only as being in opposition to the Stoics. Arcesilaus asserted as -against the Stoics, that everything is incomprehensible (ἀκατάληπτα). -He thus combated the conception of thought (καταληπτικὴν φαντασίαν), -which to the Stoics is the point of most importance and the concrete -truth. Arcesilaus further attacked the Stoics thus: “They themselves -say that the conception of thought is the mean between scientific -knowledge and opinion, the one of which pertains alone to fools and the -other alone to wise men; the conception of thought is common to both, -and the criterion of the truth. Arcesilaus here argued in such a way as -to show that between scientific knowledge and opinion the conception -of thought is no criterion, for it is either in the wise man or the -fool, and in the former it is knowledge, and in the latter, opinion. -If it is nothing excepting these, there remains to it nothing but an -empty name.” For knowledge must be a developed consciousness derived -from reasons, but these reasons, as conceptions of thought, Arcesilaus -states to be just such thoughts as those of the fool. They are thus, -no doubt, the concrete directing power which constitutes the principal -content of our consciousness; but it is not proved that they are the -truth. Thus this mean, as judging between reason and opinion, pertains -equally to the wise man and the fool, and may be error or truth -equally; and thus the wise man and the fool have the same criterion, -and yet they must, in relation to the truth, be distinguished from one -another. - -Arcesilaus further gives effect to the distinctions which are more -particularly brought up in modern times, and relied upon. “If -comprehension is the assent given to a conception of thought, it does -not exist. For, in the first place, the assent is not on account of -a conception, but of a reason; that is to say, it is only as regards -axioms that this assent holds good.”[171] That is good; more fully -the purport would be something like this: Thought, as subjective, is -made to assent to an existence which is a determinate content of the -conception. A sensuous image such as this, however, is foreign to -thought, and with it thought cannot accord, because it is something -different from it, something from which thought, on the contrary, -holds itself aloof. It is, in general, only to a thought that thought -finds itself conformable, and only in a thought that it finds itself; -thus only a universal axiom is capable of such accord, for only -such abstract principles are immediately pure thoughts. Arcesilaus -thus holds it up against the Stoics that their principle contains a -contradiction within itself, because the conception of thought is made -to be the thought of another, but thought can only think itself. This -is a thought which concerns the inmost essence of the thing. Arcesilaus -thus here makes the same celebrated distinction as in recent times has -again been brought forward with so much force as the opposition between -thought and Being, ideality and reality, subjective and objective. -Things are something different from me. How can I attain to things? -Thought is the independent determination of a content as universal; -but a given content is individual and hence we cannot assent to such. -The one is here, the other there; subjective and objective cannot -pass to one another—this is a form of thought upon which for long the -whole culture of modern philosophy has turned, and which we still find -to-day. It is important to have a consciousness of this difference, -and to assert this consciousness against the principle of the Stoics. -It was of this unity of thought and reality that the Stoics ought to -have given an account; and this they did not do, and indeed it was -never done in ancient times. For the ancients did not prove that the -subjective element of thought and this objective content are really in -their diversity the passing into one another, and that this identity -is their truth; this was only found in Plato in an abstract form and -as a first commencement. The unity of thought and conception is the -difficult matter; thus if thought, as such, is the principle, it is -abstract. The logic of the Stoics hence remained formal merely, and the -attainment of a content could not be demonstrated. Thought and Being -are themselves such abstractions, and we may move to and fro between -them for long without arriving at any determination. Thus this unity of -universal and particular cannot be the criterion. With the Stoics the -conception as comprehended appears to be immediately asserted; it is a -concrete, but it is not shown that this is the truth of these distinct -elements. Against this immediately accepted concrete, the assertion of -the difference of the two is thus quite consistent. - -“In the second place,” says Arcesilaus, “there is no apprehended -conception that is not also false, as has been confirmed many times and -oft,” just as the Stoics themselves say that the apprehended conception -could be both true and false. Determinate content has its opposite in -a determinate which must likewise as an object of thought be true; and -this destroys itself. In this consists the blind wandering about in -thoughts and reasons such as these, which are not grasped as Idea, as -the unity of opposites, but in one of the opposites asserts one thing, -and then, with as good reason, the opposite. The truth of the world is, -on the contrary, quite different, the universal law of reason which is -as such for thought. Reasons are relatively ultimate for a content, but -not absolutely ultimate; they can only be regarded as good reasons, as -probability, as the Academics express it. This is a great truth which -Arcesilaus had attained. But because no unity can thus come forth, he -then draws the conclusion that the wise man must withhold his assent, -that is, not that he should not think, but that he must not merely for -that reason regard as true that which is thought. “For since nothing is -comprehensible, he will, if he assents, assent to an incomprehensible; -now because such an assent is opinion, the wise man will only be wise -in opinion.”[172] We still likewise hear this said: Man thinks, but -does not thereby arrive at the truth; it remains beyond. Cicero (Acad. -Quæst. IV. 24) thus expresses this: “Neither the false nor the true can -be known, if the true were simply to be such as is the false.” - -_b._ In relation to what is practical, Arcesilaus says: “But since -the conduct of life without a criterion of the true or the false is -impossible, and the end of life, or happiness, can only be determined -through such grounds, the wise man, not withholding his approbation -regarding everything, will, as regards what has to be done and left -undone, direct his actions in accordance with the probable (εὔλογον),” -as the subjectively convincing conception. What is right in this is -that the good ground does not extend as far as truth. “Happiness is -brought about by discretion (φρόνησις), and rational conduct operates -in fitting and right action (κατορθώμασι); that is rightly done which -is permitted by a well-grounded justification,” so that it appears to -be true. “Thus, he who regards what is well-founded will do rightly and -be happy,” but for this culture and intelligent thought are requisite. -Arcesilaus thus remains at the indeterminate, at subjectivity of -conviction, and a probability justified by good grounds. Thus we see -that in regard to what is positive, Arcesilaus does not really get -any further than the Stoics, nor say anything different from what -they do; only the form is different, because, what the Stoics call -true, Arcesilaus calls well-founded or probable. But, on the whole, he -possessed a higher kind of knowledge than the Stoics, because what is -thus founded cannot be held to have the significance of an implicit -existence, but only a relative truth in consciousness. - - -2. CARNEADES. - -Carneades was equally famous; he was one of the followers of Arcesilaus -in the Academy, and he also lived in Athens, though considerably later. -He was born in Cyrene in Ol. 141, 3 (217 B.C.), and died in Ol. 162, -4 (132 B.C.), thus being eighty-five years old; though, according to -others he was as much as ninety.[173] During the already mentioned (pp. -241, 242) embassy of the three philosophers to Rome, it was chiefly -Carneades’ quickness, eloquence, and power of conviction, as also his -great fame, which aroused remark, attracted men together, and gained -great approbation in Rome. For he here held, after the manner of the -Academics, two discourses on justice; the one for and the other against -justice. That on which both generally speaking rested, can easily be -discovered. In the justification of justice he took the universal as -principle; but in showing its nullity, he laid weight on the principle -of individuality, of self-interest. To the young Romans who knew little -of the opposition in the Notion, this was something new; they had no -idea of such methods of applying thought, were much attracted by them, -and were soon won over to them. But the older Romans, and particularly -the elder Cato, the Censor, who was then still living, saw this very -unwillingly, and declaimed much against it, because the youths were -thereby turned away from the strictness of ideas and virtues which -prevailed in Rome. As the evil gained ground, Caius Acilius made a -proposition in the Senate to banish all philosophers from the city, -amongst whom, naturally, without their names being mentioned, those -three ambassadors were included. The elder Cato, however, moved the -Senate to conclude the business with the ambassadors as quickly as -possible, so that they might again set forth, and return to their -schools, and might henceforth instruct only the sons of the Greeks. -The Roman youths might then as formerly give ear to their laws and -magistrates, and learn wisdom from intercourse with the senators.[174] -But this taint can no more be avoided than could in Paradise the -desire for knowledge. The knowledge which is a necessary moment in -the culture of a people, thus makes its appearance as the Fall from -innocence, and as corruption. An epoch such as this, in which thought -appears to veer about, is then regarded as an evil as far as the -security of the ancient constitution is concerned. But this evil of -thought cannot be prevented by laws, &c.; it can and must be the healer -of itself through itself alone, if thought through thought itself is -truly brought to pass. - -a. The philosophy of Carneades has been given to us in most detail -by Sextus Empiricus; and all else of Carneades that we possess is -likewise directed against the dogmatism of the Stoic and Epicurean -philosophy. The fact that the nature of consciousness is what is most -particularly considered makes his propositions interesting. While in -Arcesilaus we still found a good reason or argument maintained, the -principle which Carneades supported is expressed as that “in the first -place there is absolutely no criterion of the truth, neither feeling, -conception, nor thought, nor any other such thing; for all this put -together deceives us.” This general empirical proposition is still in -vogue. In developing the matter further, Carneades proves what he says -from reasons, and we have the nature of consciousness more definitely -expressed in the following: “In the second place he shows that even if -such a criterion existed, it could not be without an affection (πάθος) -of consciousness, which proceeds from perception.”[175] For this, -speaking generally, is his principal reflection, that every criterion -must be constituted so that it has two elements, one being the -objective, existent, immediately determined, while the other element is -an affection, an activity, an attribute of consciousness, and belongs -to the sensitive, conceiving or thinking subject—but as such it could -not be the criterion. For this activity of consciousness consists in -the fact that it changes the objective, and thus does not allow the -objective as it is to come to us immediately. Hence the same attitude -of separation is pre-supposed as formerly, viz. that the understanding -is to be regarded as an ultimate and clearly absolute relationship. - -α. As against the Epicureans, Carneades maintains this: “Because -the living is distinguished from the dead through the activity of -sensation, by this means it will comprehend itself and what is -external. But this sensation which,” as Epicurus puts it (_supra_, p. -281), “remains unmoved and is impassive and unchangeable, is neither -sensation nor does it comprehend anything. For not until they have been -changed and determined by the invasion of the actual does sensation -show forth things.”[176] The sensation of Epicurus is an existent, -but there is in it no principle of judgment, because each sensation -is independent. But sensation must be analyzed in accordance with -the two points of view there present, for as the soul is therein, -determined, so likewise is that which determines determined by the -energy of the conscious subject. Because I, as a living being, have -sensation, a change in my consciousness takes place, which means that I -am determined from without and from within. Consequently the criterion -cannot be a simple determinateness, for it is really an implicit -relationship in which two moments, sensation and thought, must be -distinguished. - -β. Since to Carneades sensation is merely what comes first, he then -says: “The criterion is thus to be sought for in the affection of the -soul by actuality.” For it is only in the mean between the energy -of the soul and that of outward things that the criterion can fall. -A determinate content of sensation such as this, which is at the -same time again determined through consciousness, this passivity and -activity of consciousness, this third something, Carneades called the -conception which constituted to the Stoics the content of thought. -Respecting this criterion, he says: “This being determined must, -however, be an indication both of itself and of the apparent, or of -the thing through which it is affected; this affection is none other -than the conception. Hence in life the conception is something which -presents both itself and the other. If we see something, the sight has -an affection, and it no longer is just as it was before seeing. Through -an alteration such as this there arise in us two things: first change -itself, _i.e._ the ordinary conception” (the subjective side) “and -then that which change produced, what is seen” (the objective). “Now -just as the light shows itself and everything in it, the conception -reigns over knowledge in the animal, and it must, like the light, make -itself evident, and reveal the actual through which consciousness is -affected.” This is quite the correct standpoint for consciousness, -and it is in itself comprehensible, but it is only for the phenomenal -mind that the other in the determinateness of consciousness is -present. We now expect a development of this opposition; but Carneades -passes into the region of empiricism without giving this further -development. “Since the conception,” he continues, “does not always -point to the truth, but often lies, and resembles bad messengers in -that it misrepresents what it proceeds from, it follows that not every -conception can give a criterion of the truth, but only that which is -true, if any are so. But because none is so constituted that it might -not also be false, conceptions are likewise a common criterion of -the true as of the false, or they form no criterion.” Carneades also -appealed to the fact of a conception proceeding even from something -not existing, or—if the Stoics asserted that what in the objective is -thinkingly apprehended is an existent—to the fact that the false may -also be apprehended.[177] In a popular way that is stated thus: There -are also conceptions of untruth. Although I am convinced, it is still -my conception merely, even if men think they have said something by -saying that they have this conviction. They likewise say that insight -or objective knowledge is still only the conviction of difference, but -really the content is in its nature universal. - -γ. Finally, “because no conception is a criterion, neither can thought -be taken as such, for this depends on conception”—and must hence be -just as uncertain as it is. “For to thought, that respecting which -it judges must be conception; but conception cannot exist without -unthinking sensation”—this may, however, be either true or false, “so -that there is no criterion.”[178] This constitutes the principle in the -Academic philosophy—that on the one hand the conception is in itself -this distinction of thought and existence, and that there is likewise -a unity of both, which, however, is no absolutely existing unity. -Philosophic culture of those times remained at this standpoint, and in -modern times Reinhold also arrived at the same result. - -b. Now what Carneades gave expression to of an affirmative nature -respecting the criterion, is found in the statement that undoubtedly -criteria are to be maintained for the conduct of life and for the -acquisition of happiness, but not for the speculative consideration -of what is in and for itself. Thus Carneades passes more into -what is psychological, and into finite forms of the understanding -consciousness; this is consequently no criterion respecting truth, -but respecting the subjective habits and customs of the individual, -and hence it also is of subjective truth alone, although it still -remains a concrete end. “The conception is a conception of something; -of that from which it comes as of the externally perceived object, and -of the subject in which it is, _e.g._ of man. In this way it has two -relationships—on the one hand to the object, and, on the other, to that -which forms the conception. According to the former relationship it is -either true or false; true if it harmonizes with what is conceived of, -false if this is not so.” But this point of view cannot here in any -way come under consideration, for the judgment respecting this harmony -is most certainly not in a position to separate the matter itself -from the matter as conceived. “According to the relationship to that -which conceives, the one is conceived (φαινομένε) to be true, but the -other is not conceived to be true.” Merely this relationship to the -conceiver, however, comes under the consideration of the Academicians. -“That conceived of as true is called by the Academician appearance -(ἔμφασις) and conviction, and convincing conception; but what is not -conceived as true is called incongruity (ἀπέμφασις) and non-conviction -and non-convincing conception. For neither that which is presented to -us through itself as untrue, nor what is true but is not presented to -us, convinces us.”[179] - -Carneades thus determines the leading principle very much as does -Arcesilaus, for he recognizes it merely in the form of a “convincing -conception;” but as convincing it is “likewise a firm and a developed -conception,” if it is to be a criterion of life. These distinctions, on -the whole, pertain to a correct analysis, and likewise approximately -appear in formal logic; they are very much the same stages as are -found, according to Wolff, in the clear, distinct, and adequate -conception. “We have now shortly to show what is the distinction -between these three steps.”[180] - -α. “A convincing conception (πιθανή) is that which appears to be true -and which is sufficiently obvious; it has a certain breadth as well, -and may be applied in many ways and in a great variety of cases; ever -verifying itself more through repetitions,” as in the case of Epicurus, -“it makes itself ever more convincing and trustworthy.” No further -account of its content is given, but what is so frequently produced -is, as empirical universality, made the first criterion.[181] But this -is only an individual and, speaking generally, an immediate and quite -simple conception. - -β. “Because, however, a conception is never for itself alone, but one -depends on another as in a chain, the second criterion is added, viz. -that it should be both convincing and secure (ἀπερίσπαστος),” _i.e._ -connected and determined on all sides, so that it cannot be changed, -nor drawn this way and that and made variable by circumstances; and -other conceptions do not contradict it, because it is known in this -connection with others. This is quite a correct determination, which -everywhere appears in the universal. Nothing is seen or said alone, for -a number of circumstances stand in connection with it. “For example, -in the conception of a man much is contained, both as to what concerns -himself and what surrounds him: as to the former, there is colour, -size, form, movement, dress, &c.; and in reference to the latter, -air, light, friends, and the like. If none of such circumstances make -us uncertain or cause us to think the others false, but when all -uniformly agree, the conception is the more convincing.”[182] Thus -when a conception is in harmony with the manifold circumstances in -which it stands, it is secure. A cord may be thought to be a snake, -but all the circumstances of the same have not been considered. “Thus, -as in judging of an illness all the symptoms must be brought under -our consideration, so the fixed conception has conviction because all -circumstances agree.”[183] - -γ. “Even more trustworthy than the fixed conception is the conception -as developed (διεξωδευμένη), which brings about perfect conviction,” -the third moment. “While in the case of the fixed conception we only -investigate whether the circumstances agree with one another, in the -developed conception each one of the circumstances existing in harmony -is strictly inquired into on its own account. Thus he who judges -as well as what is judged and that according to which judgment is -given, are subject to investigations. Just as in common life in some -unimportant matter one witness satisfies us, in one more important -several are required, and in a case which is more material still the -individual witnesses are themselves examined through a comparison of -their testimonies, so in less important matters a general convincing -conception satisfies us, in things of a certain importance one which is -established, but in those which pertain to a good and happy life one -which is investigated in its parts is required.”[184] We thus see—in -contradistinction to those who place truth in what is immediate, and, -especially in recent times, in sensuous perception, in an immediate -knowledge, whether as inward revelation or outward perception—that -this kind of certainty with Carneades rightly takes the lowest place; -the conception worked out and developed really is to him the essential -one, and yet it appears in a formal manner only. In fact, the truth -is only in thinking knowledge, and if Carneades does not exhaust all -that can be said of the nature of this knowledge, he still has rightly -emphasized an essential moment in it, the opening out and the judging -movements of the moments. - -In the New Academy we see the subjective side of conviction expressed, -or the belief that not the truth as truth, but its manifestation, or -really what it is to the conception, is present in consciousness. -Thus only subjective certainty is demanded; of the truth nothing -more is said, for only what is relative in respect of consciousness -is considered. Just as the Academic principle limited itself to the -subjective act of the convincing conception, so likewise did the -Stoics really place implicit existence in thought, and Epicurus in -perception; but they called this the truth. The Academicians, on the -contrary, set it up against the truth, and asserted that it is not -the existent as such. They had thus a consciousness that the implicit -really has the moment of consciousness in it, and that without this -it cannot exist; this was also a fundamental principle to the former, -but they were not conscious of it. Though, according to this, the -implicit has now an essential relation to consciousness, this last -is still in contrast with the truth; to conscious knowledge, as to -the moment of explicitude, the implicit thus still stands in the -background, it still confronts it, but at the same time it includes -the explicit as an essential moment, even in antagonism to itself; in -other words, consciousness is not yet set forth in and for itself. -Now, if this Academic standpoint is driven to its ultimate limit, it -amounts to this, that everything is clearly for consciousness alone, -and that the form of an existent, and of the knowledge of existence, -also quite disappears as form; this, however, is Scepticism. Thus if -the Academicians still preferred one conviction, one estimate of truth -to another, as that in which the aim of a self-existent truth might be -said to dwell, or float before their eyes, there still remains this -simple belief in the validity of opinion without distinction, or the -fact that everything is in like manner only related to consciousness, -and is, in fact, phenomenal alone. Thus the Academy had no longer any -fixed subsistence, but hereby really passed into Scepticism, which -merely asserted a subjective belief in truth, so that all objective -truth has really been denied. - - -D. SCEPTICISM. - -Scepticism completed the theory of the subjectivity of all knowledge -by the fact that in knowledge it universally substituted for Being the -expression _appearance_. Now this Scepticism undoubtedly appears to be -something most impressive, to which great respect is due from man. In -all times as now, it has been held to be the most formidable, and, -indeed, the invincible opponent of Philosophy, because it signifies -the art of dissolving all that is determinate, and showing it in its -nullity. Thus it might almost appear as though it were held to be in -itself invincible, and as though the only difference in convictions -were whether the individual decided for it or for a positive, dogmatic -philosophy. Its result undoubtedly is the disintegration of the -truth, and, consequently, of all content, and thus perfect negation. -The invincibility of Scepticism must undoubtedly be granted, only, -however, in a subjective sense as regards the individual, who may -keep to the point of view of taking no notice of Philosophy, and only -asserting the negative. Scepticism in this way seems to be something -to which men give themselves over, and we have the impression that we -are not able to get within reach of anyone who thus throws himself -entirely into Scepticism; another man, however, simply rests content -with his philosophy, because he takes no notice of Scepticism, and -this is really what he ought to do, for, properly speaking, it cannot -be refuted. Certainly if we were merely to escape from it, it would -not in reality have been defeated, for on its side it would remain -where it was, and in possession of the field. For positive philosophy -allows Scepticism to exist beside it; Scepticism, on the other hand, -encroaches upon the domain of positive philosophy, for Scepticism has -power to overcome the other, while positive philosophy cannot do the -same to it. If anyone actually desires to be a Sceptic, he cannot be -convinced, or be brought to a positive philosophy,[185] any more than -he who is paralyzed in all his limbs can be made to stand. Scepticism -is, in fact, such paralysis—an incapacity for truth which can only -reach certainty of self, and not of the universal, remaining merely in -the negative, and in individual self-consciousness. To keep oneself in -individuality depends on the will of the individual; no one can prevent -a man from doing this, because no one can possibly drive another out -of nothing. But thinking Scepticism is quite different; it is the -demonstration that all that is determinate and finite is unstable. As -to this, positive philosophy may have the consciousness that it has the -negation to Scepticism in itself; thus it does not oppose it, nor is it -outside of it, for Scepticism is a moment in it. But this is true in -such a way that this philosophy comprehends in itself the negative in -its truth, as it is not present in Scepticism. - -The relation of Scepticism to Philosophy is further this, that the -former is the dialectic of all that is determinate. The finitude of all -conceptions of truth can be shown, for they contain in themselves a -negation, and consequently a contradiction. The ordinary universal and -infinite is not exalted over this, for the universal which confronts -the particular, the indeterminate which opposes the determinate, -the infinite which confronts the finite, each form only the one -side, and, as such, are only a determinate. Scepticism is similarly -directed against the thought of the ordinary understanding which -makes determinate differences appear to be ultimate and existent. But -the logical Notion is itself this dialectic of Scepticism, for this -negativity which is characteristic of Scepticism likewise belongs -to the true knowledge of the Idea. The only difference is that the -sceptics remain at the result as negative, saying, “This and this -has an internal contradiction, it thus disintegrates itself, and -consequently does not exist.” But this result as merely negative is -itself again a one-sided determinateness opposed to the positive; -_i.e._ Scepticism only holds its place as abstract understanding. -It makes the mistake of thinking that this negation is likewise a -determinate affirmative content in itself; for it is, as the negation -of negation, the self-relating negativity or infinite affirmation. -This, put quite abstractly, is the relation of Philosophy to -Scepticism. The Idea, as abstract Idea, is the quiescent and inert; it -only is in truth in as far as it grasps itself as living. This occurs -because it is implicitly dialectic, in order to abrogate that inert -quiescence, and to change itself. But if the philosophic Idea is thus -implicitly dialectic, it is not so in a contingent manner. Scepticism, -on the contrary, exercises its dialectic contingently, for just as the -material comes up before it, it shows in the same that implicitly it is -negative. - -The older Scepticism must further be distinguished from the modern, -and it is only with the former that we have to do, for it alone is of -a true, profound nature; the modern more resembles Epicureanism. Thus -Schulze of Göttingen has in recent times boasted of his Scepticism; -he wrote an “Ænesidemus” in order thus to compare himself with that -sceptic; and in other works, too, he put forward Scepticism in -opposition to Leibnitz and to Kant. Nevertheless, he ignores entirely -the true position of Scepticism as it has just been described, and -instead of representing the true distinction which exists between his -Scepticism and the ancient, Schulze recognizes nothing but Dogmatism -and Scepticism, and not the third philosophy at all. Schulze and others -make it fundamental that we must consider sensuous Being, what is -given to us by sensuous consciousness, to be true; all else must be -doubted. What we think is ultimate, the facts of consciousness. The -older sceptics, indeed, allowed that men must direct their actions in -accordance with this last, but to assert it to be the truth did not -occur to them. Modern Scepticism is only directed against thought, -against the Notion and the Idea, and thus against what is in a higher -sense philosophic; it consequently leaves the reality of things quite -unquestioned, and merely asserts that from it nothing can be argued as -regards thought. But that is not even a peasants’ philosophy, for they -know that all earthly things are transient, and that thus their Being -is as good as their non-being. Modern Scepticism is the subjectivity -and vanity of consciousness, which is undoubtedly invincible, not, -however, to science and truth, but merely to itself, this subjectivity. -For it goes no further than saying, “This is held by me to be true, my -feeling, my heart is ultimate to me.” But here certainty is alone in -question, and not truth; and, indeed, this nowadays is no longer called -Scepticism. But the conviction of this individual subject expresses -nothing at all, however high the matter which we talk of is supposed to -be. Thus because on the one hand it is said that the truth is merely -the conviction of another, and on the other hand personal conviction, -which is also a ‘merely,’ is set on high, we must leave this subject -alone, first on account of its high pretensions, and then on account -of its lowliness. The result of the older Scepticism is indeed the -subjectivity of knowledge only, but this is founded on an elaborately -thought out annihilation of everything which is held to be true and -existent, so that everything is made transient. - -According to this, the function of Scepticism is wrongly termed the -inculcation of proneness to doubt; nor can we translate σκέψις by -Doubt, if Scepticism was also called by Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. 3, § 7) -ephectic (ἐφεκτική) because one of its chief points was that judgment -must be suspended. Doubt, however, is only uncertainty, irresolution, -indecision, the thought which is opposed to something held to be valid. -Doubt proceeds from the fact of there being two; it is a passing to and -fro between two or more points of view, so that we neither rest at the -one nor the other—and yet we ought to remain at one point or another. -Thus doubt in man is quite likely to involve a rending asunder of mind -and spirit; it gives unrest and brings unhappiness with it; doubts, -for instance, arise respecting the immortality of the soul and the -existence of God. Forty years ago,[186] much was written about this; -in poetry, too, we found the situation of the doubter was a subject of -the greatest interest, the unhappiness of doubt being depicted to us as -in the “Messias.” This supposes a deep interest in a content, and the -desire of the mind that this content should either be established in it -or not, because it desires to find its rest either in the one or the -other. Such doubt is said to betoken a keen and sharp-witted thinker, -but it is only vanity and simple verbiage, or a feebleness that can -never arrive at anything. This Scepticism has nowadays entered into our -life, and it thus makes itself of account as this universal negativity. -But the older Scepticism does not doubt, being certain of untruth, and -indifferent to the one as to the other; it does not only flit to and -fro with thoughts that leave the possibility that something may still -be true, but it proves with certainty the untruth of all. Or its doubt -to it is certainty which has not the intention of attaining to truth, -nor does it leave this matter undecided, for it is completely at a -point, and perfectly decided, although this decision is not truth to -it. This certainty of itself thus has as result the rest and security -of the mind in itself, which is not touched with any grief, and of -which doubt is the direct opposite. This is the standpoint of the -imperturbability of Scepticism. - -Now what has to be considered even before treating of Scepticism -itself, is its external history. As regards the origin of Scepticism -the Sceptics say that it is very old, that is, if we take it in the -quite indeterminate and universal sense, in so far as to say “Things -are, but their Being is not true, for it likewise involves their -non-being; or they are changeable. For example, this day is to-day, -but to-morrow is also to-day, &c.; it is day now but night is also -now, &c.” Thus of what in this way is allowed to be a determinate, -the opposite is also expressed. Now if it be said that all things are -transient, things may in the first place be changed; however this is -not only possible, but the fact that all things are transient really -means when taken in its universality:—“Nothing exists in itself, for -its reality is the abrogation of self, because things in themselves, -in accordance with their necessity, are transient. Only now are they -thus; at another time they are different, and this time, the now, is -itself no more while I am speaking of it; for time is not itself fixed, -and it makes nothing fixed.” This uncertainty in what is sensuous -represents a long-standing belief amongst the unphilosophic public as -well as amongst philosophers up to this time; and this negativity in -all determinations likewise constitutes the characteristic feature -of Scepticism. The Sceptics have also presented this position in an -historic way, and they show that even Homer was a sceptic, because -he speaks of the same things in opposite ways. They also count in -this category Bias, with his maxim “Pledge thyself never.” For this -has the general sense “Do not consider anything to be anything, do -not attach yourself to any object to which you devote yourself, do -not believe in the security of any relationship, &c.” Likewise the -negative aspect of the philosophy of Zeno and Xenophanes is said to -be sceptical, and further, Heraclitus, too, with his principle that -everything flows, that everything is consequently contradictory and -transient; finally Plato and the Academy are sceptical, only here -Scepticism is not yet quite clearly expressed.[187] All this may be -taken as being in part the sceptical uncertainty of everything; but -that is not its real meaning. It is not this conscious and universal -negativity; as conscious, it must prove, as universal, it must extend -the untruth of the objective to everything; thus it is not a negativity -which says definitely that everything is not implicit but is only for -self-consciousness, and everything merely goes back into the certainty -of itself. As philosophic consciousness Scepticism is consequently of -later date. By Scepticism we must understand a specially constituted -consciousness for which in some measure not only sensuous Being, but -also Being for thought does not hold true, and which can then with -consciousness account for the nullity of that which is asserted to be -reality; and finally, in a general way, it not only annuls this and -that sensuous fact or thought, but is adapted for the recognition in -everything of its untruth. - -The history of Scepticism, properly so called, is usually commenced -with Pyrrho as being its founder; and from him the names Pyrrhonism -and Pyrrhonic are derived. Sextus Empiricus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 3, § 7) -says of him “that he went into Scepticism more fully (σωματικώτερον) -and clearly than did his predecessors.” He is earlier than some of -the philosophers already considered; but because Scepticism is to be -taken as a whole, Pyrrho’s Scepticism, even if it is merely aimed -against the immediate truth both of the senses and of morality, must -be taken along with the later Scepticism, which directs its attention -rather against the truth as thought, as will be farther shown on a -closer consideration; for this last was the first, properly speaking, -to make a sensation. As to the events of Pyrrho’s life, they appear to -be as much a matter of doubt as his doctrine; for they are without any -connection, and little is known for certain concerning them. Pyrrho -lived in the time of Aristotle and was born at Elis. I shall not give -the names of his instructors; Anaxarchus, a disciple of Democritus, is -specially mentioned amongst them. We cannot discover where he really -lived, for the most part at least. As a proof of how very much he was -esteemed during his life, it is said that his native town chose him as -head priest, and the town of Athens gave him the right of citizenship. -It is finally stated that he accompanied Alexander the Great in his -journey to Asia; and that there he had considerable dealings with -magicians and Brahmins. We are told that Alexander had him put to -death because he desired the death of a Persian satrap; and this fate -befel him in his ninetieth year. If all this is to be accepted, since -Alexander spent between twelve and fourteen years in Asia, Pyrrho must -at the earliest have set out on his travels in his seventy-eighth year. -Pyrrho does not appear to have come forward as a public teacher, but -merely to have left behind him individual friends who had been educated -by him. Anecdotes are told, not so much about the circumstances of -his life as about the sceptical manner in which he conducted himself, -and in them his behaviour is made to look ridiculous; in this the -universal of Scepticism is set against a particular case, so that what -is absurd shoots up as of itself into relationships which appear to be -consistent. For because he asserted that the reality of sensuous things -has no truth, it is, for instance, said that were he walking he would -go out of the way of no object, no waggon or horse that came towards -him; or he would go straight up against a wall, completely disbelieving -in the reality of sensuous sensations and such like. They also said -that it was only the friends surrounding him who drew him away from -such dangers and saved him.[188] But such anecdotes are evidently -extravagant, because, for one thing, it is not conceivable that he -could have followed Alexander to Asia at ninety years of age. It is -also very clear that such stories are simply invented with the object -of ridiculing the sceptical philosophy, by following out its principle -to such extreme consequences. To the Sceptics sensuous existence -undoubtedly holds good as phenomenal in so far as the regulation of -ordinary conduct is concerned (_infra_, p. 343), but not in as far as -it is held to be the truth; for even the followers of the New Academy -said that men must not only direct their lives in accordance with -rules of prudence, but also in accordance with the laws of sensuous -manifestation (_supra_, pp. 319, 324). - -After Pyrrho, Timon of Phliasis, the sillographist, became specially -famous.[189] Of his Silli, _i.e._ biting remarks respecting all -philosophies, many are quoted by the ancients; they are certainly -bitter and disdainful enough, but many of them are not very witty or -worthy of being preserved. Dr. Paul collected them in an essay, but in -it much is given that is meaningless. Goethe and Schiller certainly -show more capacity in works of a similar nature. The Pyrrhonians -hereupon disappear,—they seem in general only to have shown themselves -in a more or less isolated way; for a long time after this we read in -history of the Peripatetics, Stoics and Epicureans being confronted -only by the Academicians and perhaps some of the older Sceptics who are -mentioned likewise. - -Ænesidemus was the first to reawaken Scepticism; he was of Cnossus -in Crete, and lived in Cicero’s time in Alexandria,[190] which soon -began to compete with Athens for the honour of being the seat of -Philosophy and the sciences. Subsequently, when the Academy lost -itself in Scepticism, we see the latter, from which the former is all -the same only separated by a thin partition, taking up a position of -predominance as representing the purely negative point of view. But -a scepticism such as that of Pyrrho, which does not as yet show much -culture or tendency towards thought, but which is directed only against -what is sensuous, could have no interest in the culture of Philosophy -as it is found in Stoicism, Epicureanism, Platonism, &c. Thus it is -requisite, in order that Scepticism should appear with the dignity -pertaining to Philosophy, that it should itself be developed on its -philosophic side; and this was first done by Ænesidemus. - -However, one of the most celebrated of the Sceptics, whose works we -still in great measure possess, and who for us is by far the most -important writer upon Scepticism, because he gives us detailed accounts -of this philosophy, is Sextus Empiricus, of whose life unfortunately -as good as nothing is known. He was a physician, and that he was -an empirical physician, who did not act according to theory but in -accordance with what appears, his name tells us. He lived and taught -about the middle of the second century after Christ.[191] His works -are divided into two parts: first, his _Pyrrhoniæ Hypotyposes_, in -three books, which give us somewhat of a general presentation of -Scepticism, and secondly his books _adversus Mathematicos_, _i.e._ -against scientific knowledge generally, and more especially against -the geometricians, arithmeticians, grammarians, musicians, logicians, -physicists, and moral philosophers. There were in all eleven books, six -of which are actually directed against mathematicians, but the other -five against the philosophers. - -The distinction between the Academy and Scepticism was a matter as to -which the Sceptics exercised themselves much. The New Academy really -bordered so closely upon Scepticism, that the Sceptics had enough to -do to dissociate themselves from it, and in the Sceptic school a long -and important battle raged as to whether Plato, and subsequently the -New Academy, belonged to Scepticism or not;[192] in the course of this -we also see that Sextus did not really know what to make of Plato. -The Sceptics are, on the whole, very careful to distinguish their own -from other systems. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 1, §§ 1-4) distinguishes -three philosophies: “He who seeks an object must either find it or -deny that it can be found, or persevere in the search. Now the same -holds good with philosophic investigations; some assert that they -have found the truth; others deny that it can be grasped; a third set -are still engaged in search. The first, like Aristotle, Epicurus, the -Stoics, and others, are the so-called Dogmatists; those who assert -incomprehensibility are the Academicians; the Sceptics still continue -to seek. Hence there are three philosophies: the Dogmatic, the Academic -and the Sceptical.” For this reason, the Sceptics called themselves the -seekers (ζητητικοί), and their philosophy the seeking (ζητητική).[193] -However, the distinction between Scepticism and the New Academy rests -in the form of expression only, and is thus not a great one: indeed it -is founded only on the mania of the Sceptics to cut off and to shun -any sort of assertive statement. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 7, § 13; c -10, §§ 19-20) says: “The Sceptic does not dogmatize, but only assents -to the affections into which he is impelled, not of his own will, by -the conceptions; thus, if for example, he is warm or cold, he will -certainly not say, I seem not to be cold or warm. But if it be asked -if the subject is as it appears, we allow appearance (φαίνεσθαι); yet -we do not investigate the thing that appears, but only the predicate -predicate (ὃ λέγεται)[194] expressing its appearance. Thus, whether -anything is sweet or not, we consider only as regards the Notion Notion -(ὄσον ἐπὶ τῷ λόγῳ); but that is not what appears, but what is said of -what appears. But if we institute direct investigations respecting -what appears, we do so not in order to destroy what appears, but in -order to condemn the rashness (προπέτειαν) of the dogmatists.” Thus -the Sceptics endeavour to bring about the result that in what they say -no expression of a Being can be demonstrated, so that, for example, in -a proposition, they always set appearance in the place of existence. -According to Sextus they say (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 7, § 14; c. 28, § 206): -“The Sceptic makes use of his propositions—for example, determine -nothing (οὐδὲν ὁρίζειν), not the more (οὐδὲν μᾶλλον), nothing is true, -&c.—not as if they really did exist. For he believes, for instance, -that the proposition, everything is false, asserts that itself as well -as the others is false, and consequently limits it (συμπεριγράφει). -Thus we must similarly in all sceptical propositions recollect that -we do not at all assert their truth; for we say that they may destroy -themselves, since that limits them of which they are predicated.” Now, -the New Academy of Carneades does not express anything as being the -true and existent, or as anything to which thought could agree; the -Sceptics thus come very near to the Academy. Pure Scepticism merely -makes this objection to the Academy, that it is still impure. Sextus -says (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 33, §§ 226-233): “But clearly they differ from -us in the judgment of good and evil. For they assert that something is -good or evil,” that is to say, the former is the withholding of assent, -and the latter the granting of it (_supra_, p. 315), “whereby they are -convinced of its being probable that what of good is attributed to the -predicate, is more likely to be good than the opposite.” Thus they have -not elevated themselves to the purity of Scepticism, because they speak -of _existence_, and not of _appearance_. But this is nothing more than -a mere form, for the content immediately destroys that which in form -appears to be an assertion. If we say: “Something is a good, thought -assents to it,” and then ask, “But what is the good to which thought -assents?” the content here is that it should not assent. Hence the form -is, “It is a good,” but the content is that nothing should be held to -be good or true. Thus the Sceptics also assert this: To the Sceptics -“all conceptions are alike in trustworthiness or untrustworthiness in -relation to the ground,” to truth. “But the Academicians say that some -are probable, and others improbable, and amongst the probable, some -again are to be preferred to the others.” Preference is thus one of the -forms which the Sceptics also object to (_infra_, p. 345); for such -expressions strike them as still too positive. - -Now, speaking generally, the essential nature of Scepticism consists -in its considering that to self-consciousness on its own account, -there proceeds from the disappearance of all that is objective, all -that is held to be true, existent or universal, all that is definite, -all that is affirmative, through the withholding of assent, the -immovability and security of mind, this imperturbability in itself. -Hence the same result is obtained, that we have already seen in systems -of philosophy immediately preceding this. Thus as soon as anything is -held to be truth to self-consciousness, we find the result that to -self-consciousness this truth is the universal reality, passing beyond -itself, and in regard to this, self-consciousness esteems itself as -nothing. But this external and determinate truth, as finite, is not -implicitly existent, so that its necessity is to vacillate and give -way. Then when this security disappears, self-consciousness itself -loses its equilibrium, and becomes driven hither and thither in unrest, -fear and anguish; for its stability and rest is the permanence of its -existence and truth. But sceptical self-consciousness is just this -subjective liberation from all the truth of objective Being, and from -the placing of its existence in anything of the kind; Scepticism thus -makes its end the doing away with the unconscious servitude in which -the natural self-consciousness is confined, the returning into its -simplicity, and, in so far as thought establishes itself in a content, -the curing it of having a content such as this established in thought. -“The effective principle of Scepticism,” Sextus hence tells us (Pyrrh. -Hyp. I. c. 6, § 12, c. 12, §§ 25-30), “is the hope of attaining to -security. Men of distinguished excellence, disquieted through the -instability of things, and dubious as to which should in preference -be given assent to, began the investigation of what is the truth and -what false in things, as if they could reach imperturbability through -the decision of such matters. But while engaged in this investigation, -man attains the knowledge that opposite determinations,” desires, -customs, &c., “have equal power,” and thus resolve themselves; “since -in this way he cannot decide between them, he really only then attains -to imperturbability when he withholds his judgment. For if he holds -anything to be good or evil by nature, he never is at rest, whether it -be that he does not possess what he holds to be good, or that he thinks -himself vexed and assailed by natural evil. But he who is undecided -respecting that which is good and beautiful in nature, neither shuns -nor seeks anything with zeal; and thus he remains unmoved. What -happened to the painter Apelles, befalls the Sceptic. For it is told -that when he was painting a horse, and was altogether unsuccessful in -rendering the foam, he finally in anger threw the sponge on which he -had wiped his brushes, and in which every colour was therefore mixed, -against the picture, and thereby formed a true representation of foam.” -Thus, the Sceptics find in the mingling of all that exists, and of -all thoughts, the simple self-identity of self-consciousness which -“follows mind as the shadow does the body,” and is only acquired, and -can only be acquired through reason. “Hence we say that the end of the -Sceptic is imperturbability in the conceptions and moderation in the -affections which he is compelled to have.” This is the indifference -which the animals have by nature, and the possession of which through -reason distinguishes men from animals. Thus, Pyrrho once showed to his -fellow-passengers on board a ship, who were afraid during a storm, a -pig, which remained quite indifferent and peacefully ate on, saying to -them: in such indifference the wise man must also abide.[195] However -the indifference must not be like that of the pig, but must be born -of reason. But if to Scepticism existence was only a manifestation or -conception, it was yet esteemed by it as that in respect to which -the Sceptics directed their conduct, both in what they did, and what -they left undone. The above-quoted (p. 336) anecdotes about Pyrrho are -thus opposed to what the Sceptics themselves said on the subject: “We -undoubtedly direct our conduct in accordance with a reason which, in -conformity with sensuous phenomena, teaches us to live conformably to -the customs and laws of our country, and in consonance with recognized -institutions and personal affections.”[196] But for them this had only -the significance of a subjective certainty and conviction, and not the -value of an absolute truth. - -Thus the universal method of Scepticism was, as Sextus Empiricus puts -it (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 4, §§ 8-10; c. 6, § 12): “a power of in some way -or other setting what is felt, and what is thought, in opposition, -whether it be the sensuous to the sensuous, and what is thought to -what is thought, or what is sensuous to what is thought, or what is -thought to what is sensuous, _i.e._ showing that any one of these has -as much force and weight as its opposite, and is hence equivalent as -far as conviction and non-conviction are concerned. From this the -suspension of judgment (ἐποχή) results, in conformity with which we -select and posit nothing, and thereby complete freedom from all mental -emotion is attained. The principle of Scepticism is thus found in the -proposition that each reason is confronted by another, which holds -equally good. We do not, however, necessarily accept affirmation and -negation as opposite grounds, but merely those that conflict with -one another.” That which is felt is really existence for sensuous -certainty, which simply accepts it as truth; or it is that which is -felt in the Epicurean form, which consciously asserts it to be true. -What is thought is in the Stoic form a determinate Notion, a content in -a simple form of thought; both these classes, immediate consciousness -and thinking consciousness, comprehend everything which is in any -way to be set in opposition. In as far as Scepticism limits itself -to this, it is a moment in Philosophy itself, which last, having an -attitude of negativity in relation to both, only recognizes them -as true in their abrogation. But Scepticism thinks that it reaches -further; it sets up a pretension of venturing against the speculative -Idea and conquering it; Philosophy, however, since Scepticism itself -is present in it as a moment, rather overcomes it (_supra_, p. 330). -As far as what is sensuous and what is thought in their separation -are concerned, it certainly may conquer, but the Idea is neither the -one nor the other, and it does not touch on the rational at all. The -perpetual misunderstanding which those who do not know the nature of -the Idea are under concerning Scepticism, is that they think that the -truth necessarily falls into the one form or the other, and is thus -either a determinate Notion or a determinate Being. Against the Notion -as Notion, _i.e._ against the absolute Notion, Scepticism does not in -any way proceed; the absolute Notion is rather its weapon of defence, -though Scepticism has no consciousness of this. We shall on the one -hand see Scepticism use that weapon against the finite, and on the -other, how it tries its skill upon the rational. - -But though, according to this, Scepticism always expresses itself as if -everything were in appearance only, the Sceptics go further than those -who support the newer and purely formal idealism. For they deal with -content, and demonstrate of all content that it is either experienced -by the senses or thought, and consequently that it has something in -opposition to it. Thus they show in the same thing the contradiction -that exists, so that of everything that is presented the opposite -also holds good. This is the objective element in Scepticism in its -manifestation, and that through which it is not subjective idealism. -Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 13, §§ 32, 33) says: “Thus, for instance, -the sensuous is set against the sensuous by our being reminded of -the fact that the same tower when looked at near is square and when -regarded in the distance looks round;” and hence the one assertion is -as good as the other. This, indeed, is a very trivial example, but its -interest lies in the thought that is present in it. “Or what is thought -is set in opposition to what is thought. As to the fact that there -is a providence,” which rewards the good and punishes the evil, “men -appeal,” as against those who deny it, “to the system of the heavenly -bodies; to this it is objected that the good often fare badly and the -evil well, from which we demonstrate that there is no providence.” As -to the “opposition of what is thought to the sensuous,” Sextus adduces -the conclusion of Anaxagoras, who asserts of the snow, that although -it appears to be white, regarded in relation to the reasons given by -reflection it is black. For it is frozen water, but water has no colour -and hence is black; consequently snow must be the same. - -We must now consider further the method in which the Sceptics proceed, -and it consists in this, that they have brought the universal principle -that each definite assertion has to be set over against its ‘other,’ -into certain forms, not propositions. Thus, in view of the nature of -Scepticism, we cannot ask for any system of propositions, nor will this -philosophy really be a system; just as little did it lie in the spirit -of Scepticism to form a school, properly speaking, but only an external -connection in the wider sense of the word. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 8, -§ 16, c. 3, § 7) hence says that Scepticism is no selection (αἵρεσις) -of dogmas, it is not a preference for certain propositions, but only -that which leads, or rather which directs us (ἀγωγή) to live rightly -and think correctly; thus it is in this way rather a method or manner -by which only universal modes of that opposition are shown. Now since -what sort of thoughts reveal themselves is a matter of contingency, the -manner and mode of grasping them is contingent likewise; for in one the -contradiction appears thus and in another otherwise. These determinate -modes of opposition, whereby the withholding of assent comes to pass, -the Sceptics called tropes (τρόποι), which are turned upon everything -that is thought and felt in order to show that this is not what it is -implicitly, but only in relation to another—that it thus itself appears -in another, and allows this other to appear in it, and consequently -that, speaking generally, what is, only seems; and this, indeed, -follows directly from the matter in itself, and not from another which -is assumed as true. If, for example, men say that empiric science has -no truth because truth exists only in reason, this is only assuming the -opposite of empiricism; likewise the truth of reason proved in itself -is not a refutation of empiric science, for this last stands alongside -of the former with equal rights as, and within the same. - -Now since the sceptical doctrine consists in the art of demonstrating -contradictions through these _tropes_, we only require to elucidate -these modes. The Sceptics themselves, like Sextus, for example (Pyrrh. -Hyp. I. c. 14, 15) distinguish in these forms the earlier and the -later: ten of them belong to the elder Sceptics, that is to say to -Pyrrho, and five were afterwards added by the later Sceptics, and -Diogenes Laertius indeed tells us (IX. 88) that this was first done -by Agrippa. From a specification of these it will be shown that the -earlier are directed against the ordinary consciousness generally and -belong to a thought of little culture, to a consciousness which has -sensuous existence immediately before it. For they proceed against what -we call common belief in the immediate truth of things, and refute it -in a manner which is immediate likewise, not through the Notion but -through the existence which is opposed to it. In their enumeration, -too, there is this same absence of the Notion. But the five others -appear to be better, have more interest, and are manifestly of later -origin; they proceed against reflection, _i.e._ against a consciousness -which relates itself to the developed understanding, and thus -specially against thought-forms, scientific categories, the thought of -the sensuous, and the determination of the same through Notions. Now -though the most part of these may appear to us to be quite trivial, we -must still be indulgent towards them, for they are historically, and -consequently really, directed against the form “it is.” But without -doubt it is a very abstract consciousness that makes this abstract form -“it is” its object and combats it. However trivial then and commonplace -these tropes may always appear to be, even more trivial and commonplace -is the reality of the so-called external objects, that is, immediate -knowledge, as when, for instance, I say “This is yellow.” Men ought -not to talk about philosophy, if in this innocent way they assert the -reality of such determinations. But this Scepticism was really far from -holding things of immediate certainty to be true; thus it actually -stands in contrast to modern Scepticism, in which it is believed -that what is in our immediate consciousness, or indeed, all that is -sensuous, is a truth (_supra_, pp. 331, 332). As distinguished from -this, the older Scepticism, the modes of which we would now consider -further, is directed against the reality of things. - - -1. THE EARLIER TROPES. - -In the earlier tropes we see the lack of abstraction appearing as -the incapacity to grasp their diversitude under more simple general -points of view, although they all, in fact, partly under a simple -conception and partly in their difference, do in fact converge into -some necessary simple determinations. From all alike, in relation to -immediate knowledge, is the insecurity demonstrated of that of which -we say “it is.” Sextus Empiricus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, § 38) even -remarks, that “all the tropes may be summed up in three: the one is the -judging subject; the other that respecting which the judgment is made; -the third that which contains both sides”—the relation of subject and -object. If thought is developed further, it embraces things in these -more general determinations. - -a. “The first trope is the diversitude in animal organization, -according to which different living beings experience different -conceptions and sensations respecting the same object. This the -Sceptics conclude from the different nature of their origin, because -some are brought into being through copulation and others without -copulation” (from a _generatio æquivoca_): “but of the first some are -hatched from eggs, and others come immediately living into the world, -&c. Thus it is a matter of no doubt that this difference of origin -produces opposite constitutions, temperaments, &c. The variety in -the parts of the body, and particularly in those which are given to -the animal for purposes of distinguishing and feeling, thus produces -in them the greatest differences in conceptions. For instance, the -jaundiced patient sees as yellow what to others appears white,” and as -green, what to the latter seems blue. “Similarly the eyes of animals -are differently constructed in different species, and have different -colours, being pale, grey or red; consequently what is perceived -thereby must be different.”[197] - -This difference in the subject undoubtedly establishes a difference in -perception, and this last a difference between the conception and the -nature of the object of perception. But if we say “That is,” we mean -something fixed, maintaining itself under all conditions; whereas in -opposition to this the Sceptics show that everything is variable. But -if they thereby destroy similarity and identity for the senses, and -consequently _this_ universality, another steps in, for universality -or existence rests simply in the fact of men knowing that, in the -hackneyed example of the jaundiced man, things appear so to him, _i.e._ -the necessary law is known whereby a change of sensation arises for -him. But certainly it is implied in this that the first sensuous -universality is not true universality, because it is one immediate -and unknown; and in it as sensuous existence, its non-universality is -rightly demonstrated within itself through another universality. As -against the statement “This is blue because I see it as such,” which -clearly makes sight the ground of its being asserted to be blue, it -is quite fair to point to another who has immediate perception of the -object and for whom it is not blue. - -b. The second trope, the diversitude of mankind in reference to -feelings and conditions, amounts very much to the same thing as in -the first case. In respect to difference in constitution of body, the -Sceptics discover many idiosyncrasies. As regards the proposition -“Shade is cool,” for instance, they say that someone felt cold in the -sunlight, but warm in shadow; as against the statement “Hemlock is -poisonous,” they instance an old woman in Attica who could swallow a -large dose of hemlock without harm—thus the predicate poisonous is -not objective, because it suits the one and not the other. Because -such great bodily differences are present amongst men, and the body is -the image of the soul, men must have a diversity of mind likewise and -give the most contradictory judgments, so that no one can know whom to -believe. To judge by the greater number would be foolish, for all men -cannot be inquired of.[198] This trope again relates to the immediate; -if, therefore, what has to be done is merely to believe some statement -inasmuch as it is made by others, undoubtedly nothing but contradiction -takes place. But a belief like this, that is ready to believe anything, -is, as a matter of fact, incapable of understanding what is said; it -is an immediate acceptance of an immediate proposition. For it did not -demand the reason; but the reason is, in the first place, the mediation -and the meaning of the words of the immediate proposition. Diversitude -in men is really something which now likewise appears in other forms. -It is said that men differ in regard to taste, religion, &c.; that -religion must be left for each to decide for himself; that each, from -a standpoint of his own, must settle how things are to be regarded -as far as religion is concerned. The consequence of this is that in -regard to religion there is nothing objective or true, everything ends -in subjectivity, and the result is indifference to all truth. For then -there is no longer a church; each man has a church and a liturgy of his -own, each has his own religion. The Sceptics more particularly—as those -who in all times spare themselves the trouble of philosophizing, on -some sort of pretext, and who try to justify this evasion—persistently -preach the diversity of philosophies; Sextus Empiricus does this -very expressly, and it may even be brought forward here, although it -will appear more definitely as the first of the later tropes. If the -principle of the Stoics, as it is in its immediacy, holds good, the -opposite principle, that of the Epicureans, has just as much truth, and -holds equally good. In this way, when it is said that some particular -philosophy asserts and maintains certain propositions, the greatest -diversity is undoubtedly to be found. For here we have the talk which -we censured earlier (Vol. I. p. 16): “Since the greatest men of all -times have thought so differently and have not been able to come to -an agreement, it would be presumptuous on our part to believe we had -found what they could not attain to,” and with those who speak thus, -the timid shrinking from knowledge makes out the inertness of their -reason to be a virtue. Now if the diversity cannot be denied, because -it is a fact that the philosophies of Thales, Plato, and Aristotle were -different, and that this was not merely apparently the case, but that -they contradicted one another, this way of wishing in such statements -of them to gain a knowledge of the philosophies, shows a want of -understanding as regards Philosophy; for such propositions are not -Philosophy, nor do they give expression to it. Philosophy is quite the -reverse of this immediacy of a proposition, because in that the very -knowledge that is essential is not taken into account; hence such men -see everything in a philosophy excepting Philosophy itself, and this is -overlooked. However different the philosophic systems may be, they are -not as different as white and sweet, green and rough; for they agree in -the fact that they are philosophies, and this is what is overlooked. -But as regards the difference in philosophies, we must likewise remark -upon this immediate validity accorded to them, and upon the form, that -the essence of Philosophy is expressed in an immediate manner. As -regards this ‘is’ the trope undoubtedly does its work, for all tropes -proceed against the ‘is,’ but the truth is all the time not this dry -‘is,’ but genuine process. The relative difference in philosophies is, -in their mutual attitude towards one another (see the fifth trope), -always to be comprehended as a connection, and therefore not as an ‘is.’ - -c. The third trope turns on the difference in the constitution of -the organs of sense as related to one another; _e.g._ in a picture -something appears raised to the eye but not to the touch, to which it -is smooth, &c.[199] This is, properly speaking, a subordinate trope, -for in fact a determination such as this coming through some sense, -does not constitute the truth of the thing, what it is in itself. -The consciousness is required that the unthinking description which -ascribes existence to blue, square, &c., one after the other, does not -exhaust and express the Being of the thing; they are only predicates -which do not express the thing as subject. It is always important -to keep in mind that the different senses grasp the same thing in -contradictory ways, for by this the nullity of sensuous certainty is -revealed. - -d. The fourth trope deals with the diversitude of circumstances in the -subject, in reference to its condition, the changes taking place in it, -which must prevent our making an assertion respecting any particular -thing. The same thing manifests itself differently to the same man, -according as he, for instance, is at rest or moving, asleep or awake, -moved by hatred or love, sober or drunk, young or old, &c. In the -diversitude of these circumstances very different judgments are passed -regarding one and the same object, hence we must not talk of anything -as being more than a manifestation.[200] - -e. The fifth trope relates to the different positions, distances and -places, for from every different standpoint the object appears to be -different. In respect to position, a long passage appears to the man -who stands at the one end to taper to a point at the other; but if he -goes there he finds it to be of the same breadth at that end as it was -at the other. Distance is likewise, properly speaking, a difference -in the greatness and smallness of objects. In respect to place, the -light in a lantern is quite feeble in the sunshine, and yet in darkness -it shines quite brightly. Pigeons’ necks, regarded from different -points of view, shimmer quite differently.[201] In regard to motion -in particular very different views prevail. The best known example of -such is found in the course of the sun round the earth, or the earth -round the sun. As the earth is said to go round the sun, even though -the opposite appears to be the case, the former assertion is based -on reasons. This example does not, however, come in here, but this -trope will show that because one sensuous feeling contradicts another, -existence is not expressed in it. - -f. The sixth trope is taken from intermixture, because nothing comes -within the scope of the sense alone and isolated, but only as mingled -with something else; this admixture with something else, however, -causes change, just as scents are stronger in the sunshine than in -cold air, &c. Further, through the subject himself, this admixture -comes in; the eyes consist of various tunics and humours, the ear has -different passages, &c., consequently they cannot allow sensations—the -light or the voice—to come to us in their purity, for the sensuous -element comes to us first of all modified by these tunics of the eye -and likewise by the passages of the ear.[202] But if we are to express -ourselves in this particular manner, the direct opposite might likewise -be maintained, that the sensuous element there present is simply -purified; the apprehending ear, for example, again purifies the voice -that comes in bodily form from a soul. - -g. The seventh trope is the cohesion, the size or quantity of things, -through which they appear different; for instance, we see how glass is -transparent, but loses this transparency when it is pounded, and thus -has its cohesion altered. Shavings of goat’s-horn appear to be white, -but the whole piece looks black; or Carrara marble ground into powder -looks white, though the whole piece is yellow. The same holds good as -regards quantity. A moderate portion of wine fortifies and exhilarates, -a large quantity of it destroys the body, and the case is similar with -drugs.[203] If the quantity is not to be spoken of as the substance, -it is still an abstraction that quantity and combination are matters -of indifference as regards quality and disintegration; the change of -quantity likewise changes the quality. - -h. The eighth trope arises from the relativity of things, and is thus -the universal trope of relationship. This relativity of everything -existent and thought is a more inward, real determinateness, and all -the tropes already mentioned really aim at it. “According to this -trope,” says Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, §§ 135, 136), “we conclude -that since everything is in relation to something, we must withhold -our judgment as to what it is on its own account and in its nature. -But it must be remarked that we here make use of ‘is’ in the sense -of appearance only. Relationship is used in two respects: first in -relation to the judging subject,” and this difference we saw in the -previous tropes, “and in the second place in relation to the object -which is to be judged, like right and left.” Sextus, in the passage -above (§§ 137, 140), argues as follows: “As regards what is set forth -on its own account and separate from others, is it distinguished from -the mere relative or not? If it were not different from it, it would -itself be a relative. If it is different, it again is a relative. -That is to say, what is different is related to something, for it -is set forth in relation to that from which it is distinguished.” -Relativity, generally, is present in what is absolutely predicated, -for relationship is a relationship in itself and not to another. -Relationship contains opposition: what is in relation to another is -on the one hand independent on its own account, but on the other, -because it is in relationship, it is likewise not independent. For if -anything is only in relation to something else, the other likewise -belongs to it; it is thus not on its own account. But if its other -already belongs to it, its non-being also already belongs to it, and -it is a contradictory as soon as it is not without its other. “But -because we cannot separate the relative from its other, we likewise do -not know what it is on its own account and in its nature, and we must -consequently suspend our judgment.” - -i. The ninth trope is the more or less frequent occurrence of things, -which likewise alters one’s judgment upon the things. What happens -seldom is more highly esteemed than what comes to pass frequently; and -custom brings about the fact that one judges in this way and the other -in that way. Custom is thus made a circumstance which also permits us -to say that things appear so and so to us, but not universally and -generally that they are so.[204] When men say of any particular things -that “this is so,” circumstances may be instanced in which the opposite -predicate is applicable to them also. If, for example, we remain at -the abstraction of the man, does it really signify whether or not we -have a prince?—No. States?—No. A republic?—No, and so on, for they are -here and not there. - -k. The tenth trope mainly concerns ethics and is related to manners, -customs and laws. What is moral and legal is likewise not such; for -what is here considered to be right is elsewhere held to be wrong. The -attitude of Scepticism in this regard is to show that the opposite -of what is maintained as valid law holds equally good. As regards -the ordinary understanding respecting the validity of this and that -maxim, _e.g._ that the son has to pay the debts of his father, the -ultimate and indeed only ground lies in its being said that this is -true in its immediacy, for it holds good as law or custom. As against -this the Sceptics likewise prove the opposite, saying for instance, -that the son has, indeed, to undertake the debts of the father by the -law of Rhodes; but in Rome he does not require to do so, if he has -renounced his claim on the paternal goods.[205] As in the existence -of what is determined, which is held to be true because it is, the -opposite is shown to exist; so in the case of laws, if their ground -is that they are in force, their opposite can be demonstrated. The -natural man has no consciousness of the presence of opposites; he lives -quite unconsciously in his own particular way, in conformity with the -morality of his town, without ever having reflected on the fact that he -practises this morality. If he then comes into a foreign land, he is -much surprised, for through encountering the opposite he for the first -time experiences the fact that he has these customs, and he immediately -arrives at uncertainty as to whether his point of view or the opposite -is wrong. For the opposite of what held good to him holds equally good, -and he does not possess any further ground for his practice; so that -since the one holds good equally with the other, neither holds good. - -We now see in these modes that, properly speaking, they are not logical -modes at all, nor have they to do with the Notion, for they proceed -directly against empiricism. Something is by immediate certainty given -out as being true, the opposite of this last is from some other point -of view demonstrated to be equally true, and thus its other-being is -set forth as valid. The different modes in which the non-validity of -the first and the validity of the other-being relate to one another, -are ranged under the above heads. If we now classify these ten tropes -in conformity with the plan indicated above by Sextus (p. 347), we find -in the first four tropes the dissimilarity of the object to depend on -the judging subject, because that which judges is either the animal or -the man or one of his senses or particular dispositions in him. Or the -dissimilarity depends on the object, and here we come to the seventh -and tenth tropes, since first the amount makes a thing into something -quite different, and then the code of morals in different places makes -itself the only absolute, excluding and prohibiting any other. The -fifth, sixth, eighth and ninth tropes finally deal with a union of -both sides, or these all together contain the relationship; this is a -demonstration that the object does not present itself in itself, but in -relation to something else. - -From content and form we see in these modes their early origin; for -the content, which has only to deal with Being, shows its change only, -takes up only the variability of its manifestation, without showing its -contradiction in itself, _i.e._ in its Notion. But in form they show -an unpractised thought, which does not yet bring the whole of these -examples under their universal points of view, as is done by Sextus, -or which places the universal, relativity, alongside of its particular -modes. On account of their dulness we are not accustomed to lay great -stress on such methods, nor esteem them of any value; but, in fact, as -against the dogmatism of the common human understanding they are quite -valid. This last says directly, “This is so because it is so,” taking -experience as authority. Now through these modes this understanding -will be shown that its belief has contingencies and differences within -it, which at one time present a thing in this way and at another time -in that way; and thereby it will be made aware that it itself, or -another subject, with equal immediacy and on the same ground (on none -at all), says: “It is not so, for it really is the opposite,” Thus the -signification of these tropes has still its value. Should faith or -right be founded on a feeling, this feeling is in me, and then others -may say: “It is not in me.” If one person’s tastes are to be accepted -as authoritative, it is not difficult to demonstrate that another -person’s tastes are utterly opposite, but Being is thereby degraded -into seeming, for in every assurance such as that, the opposite holds -equally good. - - -2. THE LATER TROPES. - -The five other sceptical tropes have an entirely different character, -and it is at once evident that they indicate quite another point of -view and degree of culture as regards philosophic thought; for they -pertain more to thinking reflection, and contain the dialectic which -the determinate Notion has within it. Sextus Empiricus[206] sets them -forth as follows:— - -a. The first trope is the diversitude in opinions (ἀπὸ τῆς διαφωνίας), -and that not among animals and men, but expressly among philosophers; -of this matter we have just spoken above (pp. 349, 350). Sextus, and -an Epicurean quoted by Cicero (Vol. I. p. 16), adduce the manifold -nature of dogmas, and from this the conclusion is drawn that the one -has just as much support as the other. Philosophers and others still -make copious use of this sceptical trope, which is consequently in -great favour: on account of the diversitude in philosophies, they -say, Philosophy has no value, and truth is unattainable because men -have thought about it in ways so contradictory. This diversitude -in philosophic opinion is said to be an invincible weapon against -Philosophy; but the category of difference is very barren, and we -have said in the introduction (Vol. I. pp. 17-19) how it is to be -understood. The Idea of Philosophy is to all philosophers one and the -same, even if they themselves are not aware of it; but those who speak -so much of this diversity know as little about it. The true difference -is not a substantial one, but a difference in the different stages -of development; and if the difference implies a one-sided view, as -it does with the Stoics, Epicureans, and Sceptics, in their totality -undoubtedly we first reach truth. - -b. A very important trope is that of failing into an infinite -progression (ἡ εἰς ἄπειρον ἔκπτωσις); by it the Sceptics show that the -reason which is brought forward for an assertion itself again requires -a reason, and this again another, and so on into infinitude; from this -suspension of judgment thus likewise follows, for there is nothing -which can furnish a solid foundation. Consequently no permanent ground -can be pointed out, for each continues to press further and further -back, and yet finally a cessation must be made. In more recent times -many have plumed themselves on this trope, and, in fact, it is as -regards the understanding and the so-called syllogism (_supra_, pp. -222, 223), a trope of great force. For if deduction from reasons is -made the power of knowledge, we must, on the other hand, remember that -by so doing we have premises which are quite ungrounded. - -c. The trope of Relationship, the relativity of determinations (ὀ ἀπὸ -τοῦ πρός τι), has already been found among those mentioned above (p. -353). It is that what is maintained shows itself as it appears, partly -merely in relation to the judging subject and partly to other things, -but not as it is in itself by nature. - -d. The fourth trope is that of Pre-supposition (ὀ ἐξ ὑποθέσεως): “When -the dogmatists see that they are thrown back into the infinite, they -put forward something as principle which they do not prove, but wish to -have conceded to them simply and without proof:” that is an axiom. If -the dogmatist has the right to pre-suppose an axiom as unproved, the -sceptic has equally the right, or, if we choose to say so, equally no -right, to pre-suppose the opposite as unproved. One is as good as the -other. Thus all definitions are pre-suppositions. For instance, Spinoza -pre-supposes definitions of the infinite, of substance, of attribute, -&c.; and the rest follows consistently from them. Nowadays men prefer -to give assurances and speak of facts of consciousness. - -e. The last trope is that of Reciprocity (διάλληλος), or proof in a -circle. “That which is dealt with is grounded on something which itself -again requires something else as its ground; now that which has been -said to be proved by it is used for this purpose, so that each is -proved through the other.” When we would avoid infinite progression -and the making of pre-suppositions, we use again that which was proved -to prove its own proof. To the question, “What is the ground of the -phenomenon?” the reply is “Power,” but this is itself merely deduced -from the moments of the phenomenon. - -Now Sextus shows (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 15, §§ 169-177) in the following -way that, speaking generally, all sceptical investigations pass into -these five modes of reasoning; and from this it is likewise clear that -Scepticism is not really a reasoning against anything from reasons -which can be found, which quick-wittedness discovers in the particular -object, but that it has a profound knowledge of the categories. (α) -“The object before us is either one felt” (according to Epicurus), -“or one thought” (according to the Stoics). “But however it may be -determined, there always is a difference of opinion respecting it,” -and specially of sophic opinions. This is the first trope. “For some -believe what is felt and others what is thought to be alone the truth,” -_i.e._ the criterion; “others, however, again accept partly what is -thought and partly what is felt.” There consequently is a contradiction -present here. “Now is it possible to harmonize this contradiction -or not? If not, we must withhold our judgment. But if it is to be -solved, the question is, ‘How shall we decide?’” What is to contain the -criterion, the standard, the implicit? “Is what is felt to be judged -by what is felt, or by what is thought?” (β) Either side, individually -considered as the implicit, passes, according to the Sceptics, into -the infinite; but this is a description which must necessarily be -proved on its own account. “If what is felt is to be judged by what is -felt, it is allowed (since feeling is in question) that this sensation -requires another sensation as its reason;” for the conviction of its -truth is not without contradiction. “But if that which constitutes the -reason is again a feeling, that which is said to be a reason must have -a reason just as much; thus we go on into infinitude”—and here we have -the second trope. The case is, however, similar if what is thought is -the criterion, or if the implicit is made to rest on it. “If to what -is thought is given the power of judging what is felt, this likewise, -since it is that respecting which no harmony prevails, requires another -as its ground. This reason is, however, something thought likewise, and -it again requires a reason; thus this, too, passes into the infinite.” -From effect men thus reach cause; nevertheless this too is not -original, but is itself an effect; and so on. But if men thus progress -into infinitude, they have no first original ground to stand on, for -what is accepted as first cause is itself merely effect; and since they -merely progress continually, it is implied that no ultimate is posited. -The false belief that this progression is a true category, is also to -be found in Kant and Fichte; but there is really no true ultimate, -or, what is the same, no true first. The understanding represents -infinite progression as something great; but its contradiction is that -men speak of a first cause and it is then shown that it is only an -effect. Men only attain to the contradiction and constant repetition -of the same, but not to the solution of it, and consequently to the -true _prius_. (γ) But should this endless progression not satisfy -us—which the Sceptics indeed perceived—and therefore have to be put -a stop to, this may happen by what is or what is felt having its -foundation in thought, and, on the other hand, by likewise taking for -the foundation of thought that which is felt. In this way each would be -founded without there having been a progression into infinitude; but -then that which founds would also be that which is founded, and there -would merely be a passing from one to the other. Thus, in the third -place, this falls into the trope of Reciprocity, in which, however, -there is no more than there was before any true foundation. For in -it each merely exists through the other, neither is really set forth -absolutely, but each is the implicit only for the other, and this is -self-abrogation. (δ) But if this is avoided by an unproved axiom which -is taken as an implicit fact, a first and absolute ground, this way -of arguing falls into the mode of Pre-supposition—the fourth trope. -But if an assumption such as this were to be allowed, it would also be -legitimate for anyone to assume the contrary. Thus against the absolute -assertion of idealism, “The Absolute is the I,” it is with equal force -maintained that “The Absolute is existence.” The one man says in the -immediate certainty of himself: “I am absolute to myself;” another man -likewise in certainty of himself says, “It is absolutely certain to -me that things exist.” Idealism did not prove the former, nor did it -destroy the latter; it takes its stand alongside of it, and only bases -its assertions on its own principle. Everything, however, then, comes -round to this, that because the ‘I’ is absolute, the ‘not-I’ cannot -be absolute. On the other hand it may be said as justly: “Because the -thing is absolute, the ‘I’ cannot be absolute.” If it is legitimate, -Sextus further says, immediately to pre-suppose something as unproved, -it is absurd to pre-suppose anything else as proof of that on whose -behalf it is pre-supposed; we only require to posit straightway the -implicit existence of that which is in question. But as it is absurd -to do so, so also is the other absurd. Men set to work in the finite -sciences in a similar way. But when, as in a dogmatism like this, a -man asserts his right of pre-supposing something, every other man has -equally the right of pre-supposing something. Consequently the modern -immediate revelation of the subject now appears. It does no good for -any man to affirm, for example, that he finds in his consciousness that -God exists; since anyone has the right to say that he finds in his -consciousness that God does not exist. In modern times men have not got -very far with this immediate knowledge—perhaps not further than the -ancients, (ε) In the fifth place everything perceived has, according -to the trope of Relationship, a relation to something else, to what -perceives; its Notion is just that of being for another. The same -holds good with what is thought; as the universal object of thought it -likewise has the form of being something for another. - -If we sum this up in a general way, the determinate, whether it is -existent or thought, is (α) really, as determinate, the negative of -another, _i.e._ it is related to another and exists for the same, and -is thus in relationship; in this everything is really exhausted. (β) In -this relationship to another this last, posited as its universality, -is its reason; but this reason, as opposed to that which is proved, -is itself a determinate, and consequently has its reality only in -what is proved. And for the reason that I really again consider this -universal as a determinate, it is conditioned by another like the one -that goes before, and so on into infinity. (γ) In order that this -determinate for which, as in consciousness, the other is, should have -existence, this other must exist, for in this it has its reality; -and because this its object is likewise for another, they mutually -condition each other and are mediated through one another, neither -being self-existent. And if the universal as the basis has its reality -in the existent, and this existent its reality in the universal, this -forms the Reciprocity whereby what in themselves are opposites mutually -establish one another. (δ) But what is implicit is something which is -not mediated through another; as the immediate, that is because it is, -it is, however, an Hypothesis. (ε) Now if this determinate is taken as -pre-supposed, so also may another be. Or we might say more shortly that -the deficiency in all metaphysics of the understanding lies partly in -(α) the Demonstration, by which it falls into the infinite; and partly -in (β) the Hypotheses, which constitute an immediate knowledge. - -These tropes thus form an effective weapon against the philosophy -of the ordinary understanding, and the Sceptics directed them with -great acuteness, sometimes against the common acceptation of things, -and sometimes against principles of philosophic reflection. These -sceptical tropes, in fact, concern that which is called a dogmatic -philosophy—not in the sense of its having a positive content, but as -asserting something determinate as the absolute; and in accordance -with its nature, such a philosophy must display itself in all these -forms. To the Sceptics, the Notion of dogmatic philosophy is in -effect that something is asserted as the implicit; it is thus opposed -to idealism by the fact of its maintaining that an existence is the -absolute. But there is a misunderstanding or a formal understanding in -considering that all philosophy that is not Scepticism is Dogmatism. -Dogmatism, as the Sceptics quite correctly describe it, consists in -the assertion that something determinate, such as ‘I’ or ‘Being,’ -‘Thought’ or ‘Sensation,’ is the truth. In the talk about idealism, -to which dogmatism has been opposed, just as many mistakes have -been made, and misunderstandings taken place. To the criticism which -knows no implicit, nothing absolute, all knowledge of implicit -existence as such is held to be dogmatism, while it is the most wanton -dogmatism of all, because it maintains that the ‘I,’ the unity of -self-consciousness, is opposed to Being, is in and for itself, and -that the implicit in the outside world is likewise so, and therefore -that the two absolutely cannot come together. By idealism that is -likewise held to be dogmatism in which, as is the case in Plato and -Spinoza, the absolute has been made the unity of self-consciousness and -existence, and not self-consciousness opposed to existence. Speculative -philosophy thus, indeed, asserts, but does not assert a determinate; -or it cannot express its truth in the simple form of a proposition, -although Philosophy is often falsely understood as pre-supposing an -original principle from which all others are to be deduced. But though -its principle can be given the form of a proposition, to the Idea what -pertains to the proposition as such is not essential, and the content -is of such a nature that it really abrogates this immediate existence, -as we find with the Academicians. As a matter of fact, that which is -now called a proposition, absolutely requires a mediation or a ground; -for it is an immediate determinate that has another proposition in -opposition to it, which last is again of a similar nature, and so on -into infinitude. Consequently, each, as being a proposition, is the -union of two moments between which there is an inherent difference, -and whose union has to be mediated. Now dogmatic philosophy, which has -this way of representing one principle in a determinate proposition as -a fundamental principle, believes that it is therefore universal, and -that the other is in subordination to it. And undoubtedly this is so. -But at the same time, this its determinateness rests in the fact that -it is _only_ universal; hence such a principle is always conditioned, -and consequently contains within it a destructive dialectic. - -As against all these dogmatic philosophies, such criticism and idealism -not excepted, the sceptical tropes possess the negative capacity of -demonstrating that what the former maintain to be the implicit is not -really so. For implicitude such as this is a determinate, and cannot -resist negativity, its abrogation. To Scepticism is due the honour -of having obtained this knowledge of the negative, and of having so -definitely thought out the forms of negativity. Scepticism does not -operate by bringing forward what is called a difficulty, a possibility -of representing the matter otherwise; that would merely indicate some -sort of fancy which is contingent as regards this asserted knowledge. -Scepticism is not an empiric matter such as this, for it contains a -scientific aim, its tropes turn on the Notion, the very essence of -determinateness, and are exhaustive as regards the determinate. In -these moments Scepticism desires to assert itself, and the Sceptic -therein recognizes the fancied greatness of his individuality; these -tropes prove a more cultivated dialectic knowledge in the process of -argumentation than is found in ordinary logic, the logic of the Stoics, -or the canon of Epicurus. These tropes are necessary contradictions -into which the understanding falls; even in our time progression into -infinitude and pre-supposition (immediate knowledge) are particularly -common (_supra_, p. 363). - -Now, speaking generally, this is the method of Scepticism, and it -is most important. Because the sceptical conscience demonstrates -that in all that is immediately accepted there is nothing secure and -absolute, the Sceptics have taken in hand all particular determinations -of the individual sciences, and have shown that they are not fixed. -The further details of this application to the different sciences do -not concern us here: this far-seeing power of abstraction is also -requisite in order to recognize these determinations of negation or -of opposition everywhere present in all concrete matter, and in all -that is thought, and to find in this determinate its limits. Sextus, -for example, takes up the individual sciences concretely, thereby -demonstrating much capacity for abstraction, and he shows in all their -determinations the opposite of themselves. Thus he sets the definitions -of mathematics against one another, and that not externally, but as -they are in themselves; he lays hold of the fact (adv. Math. III. -20-22) that there is said to be a point, space, line, surface, one, -&c. We unquestioningly allow the point to rank as a simple unit in -space, according to which it has no dimension; but if it has no -dimension, it is not in space, and therefore is no longer a point. On -the one hand it is the negation of space, and, on the other, inasmuch -as it is the limit of space, it touches space. Thus this negation of -space participates in space, itself occupies space, and thus it is in -itself null, but at the same time it is also in itself a dialectic. -Scepticism has thus also treated of ideas which are, properly speaking, -speculative, and demonstrated their importance; for the demonstration -of the contradiction in the finite is an essential point in the -speculatively philosophic method. - -The two formal moments in this sceptical culture are firstly the power -of consciousness to go back from itself, and to take as its object the -whole that is present, itself and its operation included. The second -moment is to grasp the form in which a proposition, with whose content -our consciousness is in any way occupied, exists. An undeveloped -consciousness, on the other hand, usually knows nothing of what is -present in addition to the content. For instance, in the judgment “This -thing is one,” attention is paid only to the one and the thing, and -not to the circumstance that here something, a determinate, is related -to the one. But this relation is the essential, and the form of the -determinate; it is that whereby this house which is an individual, -makes itself one with the universal that is different from it. It is -this logical element, _i.e._ the essential element, that Scepticism -brings to consciousness, and on this it depends; an example of this is -number, the one, as the hypothetical basis of arithmetic. Scepticism -does not attempt to give the thing, nor does it dispute as to whether -it is thus or thus, but whether the thing itself is something; it -grasps the essence of what is expressed, and lays hold of the whole -principle of the assertion. As to God, for example, the Sceptics do not -inquire whether He has such and such qualities, but turn to what is -most inward, to what lies at the ground of this conception, and they -ask whether this has reality. “Since we do not know the reality of -God,” says Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. III. c. I, § 4), “we shall not be able -to know and perceive His qualities.” Likewise in the preceding books -(II. c. 4, sqq.), inquiry is made as to whether the criterion of truth -as fixed by the understanding is anything, whether we know the thing in -itself, or whether the ‘I’ is to itself the only absolute certainty. -This is the way to penetrate to reality. - -In these ways the operations of Scepticism are undoubtedly directed -against the finite. But however much force these moments of its -negative dialectic may have against the properly-speaking dogmatic -knowledge of the understanding, its attacks against the true infinite -of the speculative Idea are most feeble and unsatisfactory. For this -last is in its nature nothing finite or determinate, it has not the -one-sided character which pertains to the proposition, for it has the -absolute negative in itself; in itself it is round, it contains this -determinate and its opposite in their ideality in itself. In so far as -this Idea, as the unity of these opposites, is itself again outwardly -a determinate, it stands exposed to the power of the negative; indeed -its nature and reality is just to move continually on, so that as -determinate it again places itself in unity with the determinates -opposed to it, and thus organizes itself into a whole whose -starting-point again coincides with the final result. This identity is -quite different from that of the understanding; the object as concrete -in itself, is, at the same time, opposed to itself; but the dialectic -solution of this finite and other is likewise already contained in the -speculative, without Scepticism having first had to demonstrate this; -for the rational, as comprehended, does, as regards the determinate, -just what Scepticism tries to do. However, if Scepticism attempts to -deal with this properly speculative element, it can in no way lay -hold of it, nor make any progress except by doing violence to the -speculative itself; thus the method of its procedure against the -rational is this, that it makes the latter into a determinate, and -always first of all introduces into it a finite thought-determination -or idea of relationship to which it adheres, but which is not really -in the infinite at all; and then it argues against the same. That is -to say it comprehends it falsely and then proceeds to contradict it. -Or it first of all gives the infinite the itch in order to be able to -scratch it. The Scepticism of modern times, with which for crudity of -comprehension and false teaching the old cannot compare, is specially -noteworthy in this respect. Even now what is speculative is transformed -into something crude; it is possible to remain faithful to the letter, -and yet to pervert the whole matter, because the identity of the -determinate has been carried over to the speculative. What here appears -to be most natural and impartial is to have an investigation made of -what the principle of a speculative philosophy is; its essential nature -seems to be expressed thereby, and nothing is apparently added or -imputed to it, nor does any change appear to be effected in it. Now, -here, according to the conception of the non-speculative sciences, -it is placed in this dilemma: the principle is either an unproved -hypothesis or demands a proof which in turn implies the principle. The -proof that is demanded of this principle itself pre-supposes something -else, such as the logical laws of proof; these rules of logic are, -however, themselves propositions such as required to be proved; and -so it goes on into infinitude, if an absolute hypothesis to which -another can be opposed is not made (_supra_, p. 362). But these forms -of proposition, of consecutive proof, &c., do not in this form apply to -what is speculative (_supra_, p. 364) as though the proposition were -before us here, and the proof were something separate from it there; -for in this case the proof comes within the proposition. The Notion is -a self-movement, and not, as in a proposition, a desire to rest; nor is -it true that the proof brings forward another ground or middle term and -is another movement; for it has this movement in itself. - -Sextus Empiricus (adv. Math. VII., 310-312), for example, thus -reaches the speculative Idea regarding reason, which, as the thought -of thought, comprehends itself, and is thus in its freedom at home -with itself. We saw this (pp. 147-151) with Aristotle. In order to -refute this idea, Sextus argues in the following way: “The reason that -comprehends is either the whole or it is only a part.” But to know -the speculative it is requisite that there should be, besides the -‘either ... or,’ a third; this last is ‘both ... and’ and ‘neither -... nor.’ “If reason as the comprehending is the whole, nothing else -remains to be comprehended. If the comprehending reason is, however, -only a part which comprehends itself, this part again, as that which -comprehends, either is the whole (and in that case again nothing at -all remains to be comprehended), or else, supposing what comprehends -to be a part in the sense that what is comprehended is the other part, -that which comprehends does not comprehend itself,” &c. In the first -place, however, it is clear that by arguing thus nothing is shown -further than the fact that here Scepticism in the first place brings -into the relationship of thought thinking about thought, the very -superficial category of the relationship of the whole and the parts, -as understood by the ordinary understanding, which last is not found -in that Idea, although as regards finite things the whole is simply -composed of all the parts, and these parts constitute the whole, the -parts and the whole being consequently identical. But the relationship -of whole and part is not a relationship of reason to itself, being -much too unimportant, and quite unworthy of being brought into the -speculative Idea. In the second place Scepticism is wrong in allowing -this relationship to hold good immediately, as it does in the ordinary -and arid conception, where we make no objection to it. When reflection -speaks of a whole, there is for it beyond this nothing else remaining. -But the whole is just the being opposed to itself. On the one hand -it is as whole simply identical with its parts, and, on the other -hand, the parts are identical with the whole, since they together -constitute the whole. The self-comprehension of reason is just like -the comprehension by the whole of all its parts, if it is taken in -its real speculative significance; and only in this sense could this -relationship be dealt with here. But in the sense implied by Sextus, -that there is nothing except the whole, the two sides, the whole and -the parts, remain in mutual, isolated opposition; in the region of -speculation the two indeed are different, but they are likewise not -different, for the difference is ideal. Outside of the whole there -thus undoubtedly remains another, namely itself as the manifold of -its parts. The whole argument thus rests upon the fact that a foreign -determination is first of all brought within the Idea, and then -arguments against the Idea are brought forward, after it has been thus -corrupted by the isolation of a one-sided determination unaccompanied -by the other moment of the determination. The case is similar when it -is said; “Objectivity and subjectivity are different, and thus their -unity cannot be expressed.” It is indeed maintained that the words -are literally adhered to; but even as contained in these words, the -determination is one-sided, and the other also pertains to it. Hence -this difference is not what remains good, but what has to be abrogated. - -We may perhaps have said enough about the scientific nature of -Scepticism, and we have concluded therewith the second section of Greek -philosophy. The general point of view adopted by self-consciousness in -this second period, the attainment of the freedom of self-consciousness -through thought, is common to all these philosophies. In Scepticism we -now find that reason has got so far that all that is objective, whether -of Being or of the universal, has disappeared for self-consciousness. -The abyss of the self-consciousness of pure thought has swallowed up -everything, and made entirely clear the basis of thought. It not only -has comprehended thought and outside of it a universe in its entirety, -but the result, positively expressed, is that self-consciousness itself -is reality. External objectivity is not an objective existence nor -a universal thought; for it merely is the fact that the individual -consciousness exists, and that it is universal. But though for us -there is an object, yet this is for it no object, and thus it still -has itself the mode of objectivity. Scepticism deduces no result, nor -does it express its negation as anything positive. But the positive -is in no way different from the simple; or if Scepticism aims at the -disappearance of all that is universal, its condition, as immovability -of spirit, is itself in fact this universal, simple, self-identical—but -a universality (or a Being) which is the universality of the individual -consciousness. Sceptical self-consciousness, however, is this divided -consciousness to which on the one hand motion is a confusion of its -content; it is this movement which annuls for itself all things, in -which what is offered to it is quite contingent and indifferent; it -acts according to laws which are not held by it to be true, and is a -perfectly empiric existence. On another side its simple thought is -the immovability of self-identity, but its reality, its unity with -itself is something that is perfectly empty, and the actual filling in -is any content that one chooses. As this simplicity, and at the same -time pure confusion, Scepticism is in fact the wholly self-abrogating -contradiction. For in it the mind has got so far as to immerse -itself in itself as that which thinks; now it can comprehend itself -in the consciousness of its infinitude as the ultimate. In this way -Scepticism flourishes in the Roman world, because, as we saw (p. -281), in this external, dead abstraction of the Roman principle (in -the principle of Republicanism and imperial Despotism) the spirit -has flown from an existence here and now, that could give it no -satisfaction, into intellectuality. Then because here the mind can only -seek reconciliation and eudæmonism inwardly through cultured thought, -and the whole aim of the world is merely the satisfaction of the -individual, good can only be brought forth as individual work in each -particular case. Under the Roman emperors we certainly find famous men, -principally Stoics, such as Marcus Aurelius and others; they, however, -only considered the satisfaction of their individual selves, and did -not attain to the thought of giving rationality to actuality through -institutions, laws and constitutions. This solitude of mind within -itself is then truly Philosophy; but the thought is abstractly at home -with itself as dead rigidity, and as to outward things it is passive. -If it moves it only moves while bearing with it a contempt of all -distinctions. Scepticism thus belongs to the decay both of Philosophy -and of the world. - -The stage next reached by self-consciousness is that it receives -a consciousness respecting that which it has thus become, or its -essential nature becomes its object. Self-consciousness is to itself -simple essence; there is for it no longer any other reality than -this, which its self-consciousness is. In Scepticism this reality is -not yet an object to it, for to it its object is merely confusion. -Because it is consciousness, something is for it; in this opposition -only the vanishing content is for the sceptical consciousness, without -its having been comprehended in its simple permanence. Its truth, -however, is its immersion in self-consciousness, and the fact of -self-consciousness becoming an object to itself. Thus reality has -indeed the form of a universal in existence or in thought, but in -this its self-consciousness is really not a foreign thing as it is -in Scepticism. In the first place it is not simple as immediate and -merely existent, a complete ‘other,’ as when we speak of the soul being -simple; for this last is the simple negative that turns back out of -movement, out of difference, as the universal, into itself. In the -second place this universal power that expresses that “I am at home -with myself,” has likewise the significance of the Being, which, as -objective reality, has a permanence for consciousness, and does not -merely, as with the Sceptics, disappear; for reason in it alone knows -how to possess and to find itself. This inwardness of mind at home with -itself has built in itself an ideal world, has laid the foundation -and groundwork of the intellectual world, of a kingdom of God which -has come down into actuality and is in unity with it, and this is the -standpoint of the Alexandrian philosophy. - - - - -SECTION THREE - -THIRD PERIOD: THE NEO-PLATONISTS. - - -SINCE Scepticism is the annulling of the opposites which in Stoicism -and Epicureanism were accepted as the universal principles from which -all other opposites took their rise, it likewise is the unity in which -these opposites are found as ideal determinations, so that the Idea -must now come into consciousness as concrete in itself. With this -third development, which is the concrete result of all that has gone -before, an entirely new epoch begins. Philosophy is now on quite a -different footing, since, with the rejection of the criterion for -subjective knowledge, finite principles in general also disappear; -for it is with these that the criterion has to do. This then is the -form which Philosophy takes with the Neo-Platonists, and which is -closely connected with the revolution which was caused in the world -by Christianity. The last stage which we reached—that subjective -contentment and return of self-consciousness into itself which is -attained by the renunciation of all that is fixed and objective, by -flight into the pure, infinite abstraction in itself, by the absolute -dearth of all determinate content—this stage had come to perfection in -Scepticism, although the Stoic and Epicurean systems have the same end -in view. But with this complete entering into and abiding within itself -of infinite subjectivity, Philosophy had reached the standpoint at -which self-consciousness knew itself in its thought to be the Absolute -(Vol. II. p. 372); and since Philosophy now rejected the subjective and -finite attitude of self-consciousness, and its manner of distinguishing -itself from an unmeaning external object, it comprehended in itself the -difference, and perfected the truth into an intelligible world. The -consciousness of this, expressing itself as it did in the spirit of the -world, now constitutes the object of Philosophy; it was principally -brought about by employing and reasoning from Platonic conceptions and -expressions, but also by making use of those of the Aristotelians and -Pythagoreans. - -The idea which had now come home to men that absolute existence is -nothing alien to self-consciousness, that nothing really exists for it -in which self-consciousness is not itself immediately present—this is -the principle which is now found as the universal of the world-spirit, -as the universal belief and knowledge of all men; at once it changes -the world’s whole aspect, destroying all that went before, and bringing -about a regeneration of the world. The manifold forms which this -knowledge assumes do not belong to the history of Philosophy, but to -the history of consciousness and culture. This principle appears as a -universal principle of justice, by which the individual man, in virtue -of his existence, has absolute value as a universal being recognized -by all. Thus, as far as external politics are concerned, this is the -period of the development of private rights relating to the property -of individual persons. But the character of Roman culture, under -which this form of philosophy falls, was at the same time abstract -universality (Vol. II. p. 235), in the lifelessness of which all -characteristic poetry and philosophy, and all citizen life perished. -Cicero, for example, shows, as few philosophers do, an utter want of -appreciation of the state of affairs in his country. Thus the world has -in its existence separated into two parts; on the one side we have the -atoms, private individuals, and on the other side a bond connecting -them, though only externally, which, as power, had been relegated to -one subject, the emperor. The Roman power is thus the real Scepticism. -In the domain of thought we find an exact counterpart to this species -of abstract universality, which, as perfect despotism, is in the -decline of national life directly connected with the isolation of the -atom, showing itself as the withdrawal into the aims and interests of -private life. - -It is at this point that mind once more rises above the ruin, and again -goes forth from its subjectivity to the objective, but at the same time -to an intellectual objectivity, which does not appear in the outward -form of individual objects, nor in the form of duties and individual -morality, but which, as absolute objectivity, is torn of mind and of -the veritable truth. Or, in other words, we see here on the one hand -the return to God, on the other hand the manifestation of God, as He -comes before the human mind absolutely in His truth. This forms the -transition to the mind’s restoration, by the fact of thought, which had -conceived itself only subjectively, now becoming objective to itself. -Thus in the Roman world the necessity became more and more keenly felt -of forsaking the evil present, this ungodly, unrighteous, immoral -world, and withdrawing into mind, in order here to seek what there -no longer can be found. For in the Greek world the joy of spiritual -activity has flown away, and sorrow for the breach that has been made -has taken its place. These philosophies are thus not only moments in -the development of reason, but also in that of humanity; they are forms -in which the whole condition of the world expresses itself through -thought. - -But in other forms some measure of contempt for nature here began to -show itself, inasmuch as nature is no longer anything for itself, -seeing that her powers are merely the servants of man, who, like a -magician, can make them yield obedience, and be subservient to his -wishes. Up to this time oracles had been given through the medium of -trees, animals, &c., in which divine knowledge, as knowledge of the -eternal, was not distinguished from knowledge of the contingent. Now it -no longer is the gods that work their wonders, but men, who, setting -at defiance the necessities of nature, bring about in the same that -which is inconsistent with nature as such. To this belief in miracle, -which is at the same time disbelief in present nature, there is thus -allied a disbelief in the past, or a disbelief that history was just -what it was. All the actual history and mythology of Romans, Greeks, -Jews, even single words and letters, receive a different meaning; they -are inwardly broken asunder, having an inner significance which is -their essence, and an empty literal meaning, which is their appearance. -Mankind living in actuality have here forgotten altogether how to -see and to hear, and have indeed lost all their understanding of the -present. Sensuous truth is no longer accepted by them; they constantly -deceive us, for they are incapable of comprehending what is real, since -it has lost all meaning for their minds. Others forsake the world, -because in it they can now find nothing, the real they discover in -themselves alone. As all the gods meet together in one Pantheon, so -all religions rush into one, all modes of representation are absorbed -in one; it is this, that self-consciousness—an actual human being—is -absolute existence. It is to Rome that all these mysterious cults -throng, but the real liberation of the spirit appeared in Christianity, -for it is therein that its true nature is reached. Now it is revealed -to man what absolute reality is; it is a man, but not yet Man or -self-consciousness in general. - -The one form of this principle is therefore the infinitude in itself -of the consciousness that knows itself, distinguishes itself in itself, -but yet remains in perfectly transparent unity with itself; and only -as this concretely self-determining thought has mind any meaning. An -actual self-consciousness is the fact that the Absolute is now known -in the form of self-consciousness, so that the determinations of the -former are manifested in all the forms of the latter; this sphere does -not properly belong to Philosophy, but is the sphere of Religion, -which knows God in this particular human being. This knowledge, that -self-consciousness is absolute reality, or that absolute reality is -self-consciousness, is the World-spirit. It is this knowledge, but -knows this knowledge not; it has merely an intuition of it, or knows -it only immediately, not in thought. Knowing it only immediately means -that to the World-spirit this reality as spirit is doubtless absolute -self-consciousness, but in existent immediacy it is an individual man. -It is this individual man, who has lived at a particular time and in -a particular place, and not the Notion of self-consciousness, that is -for the World-spirit absolute spirit: or self-consciousness is not yet -known nor comprehended. As an immediacy of thought, absolute reality is -immediate in self-consciousness, or only like an inward intuition, in -the same way that we have pictures present in our mind. - -The other form is that this concrete is grasped in a more abstract way, -as the pure identity of thought, and thus there is lost to thought the -point of self-hood pertaining to the concrete. This aspect, expressed -as absolute reality in the form of mind in conceiving thought, but -yet as in some measure existing immediately in self-consciousness as -absolute reality, comes under Philosophy. But spirit, if complete in -every aspect, must have also the natural aspect, which in this form of -philosophy is still lacking. Now as in Christianity universal history -makes this advance of mind in the consciousness of itself, so in the -innermost mysteries of the same, in Philosophy, this same change must -just as inevitably take place; in fact, Philosophy in her further -development does nothing else than grasp this Idea of absolute reality, -which in Christianity is merely shadowed forth. Absolute Spirit implies -eternal self-identical existence that is transformed into another -and knows this to be itself; the unchangeable, which is unchangeable -in as far as it always, from being something different, returns into -itself. It signifies the sceptical movement of consciousness, but in -such a form that the transient objective element at the same time -remains permanent, or in its permanence has the signification of -self-consciousness. - -In the Christian religion this spiritual reality was first of all -represented as indicating that eternal reality becomes for itself -something different, that it creates the world, which is posited purely -as something different. To this there is added later this moment, that -the other element in itself is not anything different from eternal -reality, but that eternal reality manifests itself therein. In the -third place there is implied the identity of the other and eternal -reality, Spirit, the return of the other into the first: and the other -is here to be understood as not only the other at that point where -eternal reality manifested itself, but as the other in a universal -sense. The world recognizes itself in this absolute reality which -becomes manifest; it is the world, therefore, which has returned into -reality; and spirit is universal Spirit. But since this Idea of spirit -appeared to the Christians first of all in the bare form of ordinary -conception, God, the simple reality of the Jews, was for them beyond -consciousness; such a God doubtless thinks, but He is not Thought, for -He remains beyond reality, and He is only that which is distinguished -from the world that our senses perceive. There likewise stands in -opposition to the same an individual man—the moment of unity of the -world and reality, and spirit, the universality of this unity, as a -believing community, which possesses this unity only in the form of -ordinary conception, but its reality in the hope of a future. - -The Idea in pure Thought—that God’s way of working is not external, -as if He were a subject, and therefore that all this does not come to -pass as a casual resolution and decree of God, to whom the thought -of so acting happened to occur, but that God is this movement as -the self-revealing moments of His essence, as His eternal necessity -in Himself, which is not at all conditioned by chance—this we find -expressed in the writings of philosophic or expressly Platonic Jews. -The place where this point of view took its origin happens to be -the country where East and West have met in conflict; for the free -universality of the East and the determinateness of Europe, when -intermingled, constitute Thought. With the Stoics the universality -of thought has a place, but it is opposed to sensation, to external -existence. Oriental universality is, on the contrary, entirely free; -and the principle of universality, posited as particular, is Western -Thought. In Alexandria more especially this form of philosophy was -cultivated, but at the same time regard was had to the earlier -development of thought, in which lie the partially concealed beginnings -of the building up in thought of the concrete, which is now the point -mainly regarded. Even in the Pythagorean philosophy we found difference -present as the Triad; then in Plato we saw the simple Idea of spirit -as the unity of indivisible substance and other-being, though it was -only as a compound of both. That is the concrete, but only in simple -moments, not in the comprehensive manner in which other-being is in -general all reality of nature and of consciousness,—and the unity -which has returned as this self-consciousness is not only a thought, -but living God. With Aristotle, finally, the concrete is ἐνέργεια, -Thought which is its own object, the concrete. Therefore although this -philosophy is known as Neo-Pythagorean and Neo-Platonic, it may also -be termed Neo-Aristotelian; for the Alexandrians studied Aristotle just -as much as Plato, and valued both very highly, later on combining their -philosophies in one unity. - -But we must have a clearer grasp of the difference between this point -of view and the earlier. Already in the earlier philosophies we have -seen, that νοῦς is the essence of the world, and similarly Aristotle -comprehended the whole series of things endued with life and mind in -such a way as to recognize the Notion to be the truth of these things. -In the case of the Stoics this unity, this system, was most definitely -brought forward, while Aristotle rather followed up the particulars. -This unity of thought we saw among the Stoics more especially on the -one side as the return of self-consciousness into itself, so that -spirit through the purity of thought is independent in itself; on the -other hand we have seen there an objectivity in which the λόγος became -essentially the all-penetrating basis of the whole world. With the -Stoics, however, this basis remained as substance only, and thus took -on the form of Pantheism, for that is the first idea that we light -on when we determine the universal to be the true. Pantheism is the -beginning of the elevation of spirit, in that it conceives everything -in the world to be a life of the Idea. For when self-consciousness -emerges from itself, from its infinitude, from its thought directed on -self, and turns to particular things, duties, relationships; or when -thought, which thinks this universal substance, passes over from it to -the particular, and makes the heavens, the stars, or man its object, -it descends from the universal immediately into the particular, or -immediately into the finite, since all these are finite forms. But -the concrete is the universal which makes itself particular, and in -this making of itself particular and finite yet remains eternally at -home with itself. In Pantheism, on the contrary, the one universal -substance merely makes itself finite, and thereby lowers itself. That -is the mode of emanation, according to which the universal, in making -itself the particular, or God in creating the world, by becoming -particular becomes debased or deteriorated and sets a limit to Himself; -so that this making of Himself finite is incompatible with any return -into Himself. The same relation is also found in the mythology of the -Greeks and Romans; the giving definiteness and form to God, who remains -no empty abstraction, is a rendering finite of God, who thus becomes -a mere work of art; but the Beautiful itself remains a finite form, -which is not brought to such a point as to express the free Idea. The -determination, the specialization, the reality of objectivity, must -now be of such a nature that it shall be adequate to the absolute -universal; the forms of the gods, as also natural forms and the forms -which are known as duties, fail to be thus adequate. - -What is therefore now required is that the knowing mind, which thus -out of objectivity returns into itself and its inwardness, should -reconcile with itself the world which it has left, so that the world’s -objectivity may of course be distinct from mind, yet adequate thereto. -This concrete standpoint which, as it is that of the world, is also -that of Philosophy, is the development of Mind, for it is requisite -to Mind that it should not merely be pure thought, but that it should -be thought which makes itself objective, and therein maintains itself -and is at home with itself. The earlier efforts of thought towards -objectivity constitute a passing into determinateness and finitude -merely, and not into an objective world adequate to absolute existence. -The universal standpoint of the Neo-Platonic or Alexandrian philosophy -now is from the loss of the world to produce a world which in its -outwardness shall still remain an inward world, and thus a world -reconciled; and this is the world of spirituality, which here begins. -Thus the fundamental Idea was Thought which is its own object, and -which is therefore identical with its object, with what is thought; so -that we have the one and the other, and the unity of both. - -This concrete Idea has again come to the front, and in the development -of Christianity, as thought also penetrated there, it became known -as the Trinity; and this Idea is absolute reality. This Idea did not -develop directly from Plato and Aristotle, but took the circuitous -path of Dogmatism. With the earlier thinkers it doubtless immediately -emerged as supreme; but beside and beyond it appears the other content -in addition, the riches of the thoughts of Mind and of Nature; and so -it is conceived. Aristotle has thus comprehended the kingdom of Nature; -and with Plato development is represented only in a loose multiplicity. -But in order that the Idea should appear as the truth that encompasses -and includes all within itself, it was requisite that this finite, this -wider content of determinations which had been collected, should be -comprehended on its finite side also, that is, in the finite form of -a universal opposition. That was the function of Dogmatism, which was -then dissolved by Scepticism. The dissolution of all that is particular -and finite, which constitutes the essence of the latter, was not -taken in hand by Plato and Aristotle, and therefore the Idea was not -posited by them as all-inclusive. Now the contradiction is done away -with, and Mind has attained to its negative rest. The affirmative, on -the other hand, is the repose of mind in itself, and to this freedom -from all that is particular Mind now proceeds. It is the knowledge of -what Mind is in itself, after it has come to be reconciled in itself -through the dissolution of all finality. This eternal rest of Mind in -itself now constitutes its object; it is aware of the fact, and strives -to determine and develop it further by thought. In this we likewise -possess the principle of evolution, of free development; everything -except Mind is only finite and transitory. When therefore Mind goes -forth to the particular, the particular is determined as something -plainly contained in this ideality, which Mind knows as something -subject to itself. That is the affirmative result of sceptical -philosophy. It is evident that, starting from this point of view, an -utterly different opinion will be expressed. God, as absolute pure Mind -in and for Himself, and His activity in Himself, are now the object. -But God is no longer known as the Abstract, but as the Concrete in -Himself, and this Concrete is nothing but Mind. God is living, the One -and the Other and the unity of these distinct determinations; for the -abstract is only the simple, but the living has difference in itself, -and is yet therein at home with itself. - -Further, the following points have specially claimed the attention of -Mind; firstly, that this consciousness which has become subjective -makes its object the absolute as truth, placing this absolute outside -of itself; or that it attains to faith in God, that God is now -manifested, and reveals Himself, that is, exists for consciousness. -The absolute, altogether universal, posited at the same time as -objective, is God. Here comes in the relation of man to this his -object, to absolute truth. This new standpoint, which from this time -acquires an absolute interest, is therefore not a relation to external -things, duties and the like; these are all determined, limited, they -are not the all-embracing determination, as that is which has just -been spoken of. In this relation the mere turning of the subject on -himself, this talk of the wise man. in his one-sidedness, is likewise -done away with. The same liberty, happiness, steadfastness, which were -the aim of Epicureanism, Stoicism and Scepticism are doubtless still -to be reached by the subject, but now this can only be brought about -by turning to God, by giving heed to absolute truth, not by fleeing -from the objective; so that by means of the objective itself, liberty -and happiness are attained for the subject. This is the standpoint -of reverencing and fearing God, so that by man’s turning to this his -object, which stands before him free and firm, the object of the -subject’s own freedom is attained. - -In the second place, there are contradictions herein contained which -necessarily attract the attention of mind, and whose reconciliation -is essential. If we adopt this one-sided position, God is on the one -side, and man in his freedom is on the other. A freedom such as this, -standing in contrast to the objective, a freedom in which man, as -thinking self-consciousness, conceives as the absolute the relation of -his pure inwardness to himself, is, however, only formally, and not -concretely absolute. In so far then as the human will determines itself -negatively towards the objective, we have the origin of sin, evil in -contrast to the absolute Affirmative. - -A third essential point of interest is the form in which God must -now be apprehended in general, for since it pertains essentially -to the Notion of Mind to determine God as concrete, living God, it -is indispensable that God should be thought of in relation to the -world and to man. This relation to the world is then a relation to -an ‘other,’ which thereby at first appears to be outside of God; but -because this relation is _His_ activity, the fact of having this -relation in Himself is a moment of Himself. Because the connection -of God with the world is a determination in Himself, so the being -another from the one, the duality, the negative, the distinction, -the self-determination in general, is essentially to be thought of -as a moment in Him, or God reveals Himself in Himself, and therefore -establishes distinct determinations in Himself. This distinction -in Himself, His concrete nature, is the point where the absolute -comes into connection with man, with the world, and is reconciled -with the same. We say God has created man and the world, this is -His determination in Himself, and at the same time the point of -commencement, the root of the finite in God Himself. In this manner, -therefore, that which afterwards appears finite is yet produced by Him -in Himself—the particular Ideas, the world in God Himself, the Divine -world, where God has begun to separate Himself, and has His connection -with the temporal world. In the fact that God is represented as -concrete, we have immediately a Divine world in Himself. - -Since the Divine forms, as natural and political, have now separated -themselves from the True, and the temporal world has appeared to men as -the negative, the untrue, so, in the fourth place, man recognizes God -in Mind; he has recognized that natural things and the State are not, -as in mythology, the mode in which God exists, but that the mode, as -an intelligible world, exists in Himself. The unhappiness of the Roman -world lay in its abstraction from that in which man had hitherto found -his satisfaction; this satisfaction arose out of that pantheism, in -which man found his highest truth in natural things, such as air and -fire and water, and further in his duties, in the political life of -the State. Now, on the contrary, in the world’s grief over her present -woes, despair has entered in, and disbelief in these forms of the -natural finite world and in the moral world of citizen life; to this -form of reality, in its external and outwardly moral character, man -has proved untrue. That condition which man terms the life of man in -unity with nature, and in which man meets with God in nature because -he finds his satisfaction there, has ceased to exist. The unity of -man with the world is for this end broken, that it may be restored -in a higher unity, that the world, as an intelligible world, may be -received into God. The relation of man to God thereby reveals itself in -the way provided for our salvation in worship, but more particularly -it likewise shows itself in Philosophy; and that with the express -consciousness of the aim that the individual should render himself -capable of belonging to this intelligible world. The manner in which -man represents to himself his relation to God is more particularly -determined by the manner in which man represents to himself God. -What is now often said, that man need not know God, and may yet have -the knowledge of this relation, is false. Since God is the First, He -determines the relation, and therefore in order to know what is the -truth of the relation, man must know God. Since therefore thought goes -so far as to deny the natural, what we are now concerned with is not to -seek truth in any existing mode, but from our inner Being to go forth -again to a true objective, which derives its determination from the -intrinsic nature of thought. - -These are the chief moments of the present standpoint, and the -reflections of the Neo-Platonists belong to it. Before entering upon -them we must, however, make cursory mention of Philo the Jew, and also -notice sundry moments appearing in the history of the Church. - - -A. PHILO. - -Philo, a learned Jew of Alexandria, lived before and after the birth of -Christ, in the reigns of the first Roman Emperors; that is to say, he -was born B.C. 20, but lived until after Christ’s death. In him we for -the first time see the application of the universal consciousness as -philosophical consciousness. In the reign of Caligula, before whom very -heinous charges against the Jews had been brought by Apion, he was, -when advanced in years, sent to Rome as ambassador from his people, -in order to give to the Romans a more favourable account of the Jews. -There is a tradition that he came also in the reign of the Emperor -Claudius to Rome, and there fell in with the Apostle Peter.[207] - -Philo wrote a long series of works, many of which we still possess; -for instance, those on The Creation of the World, on Rewards and -Punishments, the Offerers of Sacrifices, the Law of Allegories, Dreams, -the Immutability of God, &c.; they were published in folio at Frankfort -in 1691, and afterwards by Pfeiffer at Erlangen. Philo was famous for -the great extent of his learning, and was well acquainted with Greek -philosophy. - -He is more especially distinguished for his Platonic philosophy, and -also for the pains he took to demonstrate the presence of Philosophy -in the sacred writings of the Jews. In his explanation of the history -of the Jewish nation, the narratives and statements therein contained -have lost for him the immediate significance of reality. He reads -into them throughout a mystical and allegorical meaning, and finds -Plato present in Moses; in short, the endeavour of Philo resembled -that of the Alexandrians when they recognized philosophic dogmas in -Greek mythology. He treats of the nature of Mind, not, indeed, as -comprehended in the element of thought, but as expressed therein, and -this expression is still both far from pure and is associated with all -sorts of imageries. By the spirit of Philosophy the Jews were compelled -to seek in their sacred books, as the heathen sought in Homer and in -the popular religion, a deeper speculative meaning, and to represent -their religious writings as a perfect system of divine wisdom. That is -the character of the time, in consequence of which all that appealed -to the finite understanding in popular conceptions has not endured. -The important point, then, is that on the one hand the popular -conception is here still allied with the forms of reality; but as, on -the other hand, what these forms express only immediately is no longer -sufficient, the desire arises to understand them in a deeper sense. -Although in the external histories of the Jewish and heathen religions -men had the authority and starting-point of truth, they yet grasped the -thought that truth cannot be given externally. Therefore, men read -deep thoughts into history, as the expression is, or they read them out -of it, and this latter is the true conception. For in the case of the -Divine Book, whose author is the Spirit, it cannot be said that this -spirituality is absent. The point of importance comes to be, whether -this spirituality lies deeper down or nearer to the surface; therefore, -even if the man who wrote the book had not the thoughts, they are -implicitly contained in the inward nature of the relation. There is, -generally speaking, a great difference between that which is present -therein and that which is expressed. In history, art, philosophy, and -the like, the point of importance is that what is contained therein -should also be expressed; the real work of the mind is wholly and -solely that of bringing to consciousness what is contained therein. -The other side of the matter is that although all that lies within a -form, a-religion, &c., does not come before consciousness, one can -still not say that it did not enter into the human mind; it was not -in consciousness, neither did it come into the form of the ordinary -conception, and yet it was in mind. On the one side, the bringing of -thought into definite consciousness is a bringing in from without, but -on the other side, as far as matter is concerned, there is nothing -brought in from without. Philo’s methods present this aspect in a -pre-eminent sense. All that is prosaic has disappeared, and, therefore, -in writers of the period that follows, miracles are of common -occurrence, inasmuch as external connection is no longer required as a -matter of necessity. The fundamental conceptions of Philo, and these -alone need be taken into consideration, are then somewhat as follows:— - -1. With Philo the main point is the knowledge of God. In regard to -this, he says, in the first place: God can be known only by the eye -of the soul, only by Beholding (ὅρασις). This he also calls rapture, -ecstasy, God’s influence; we often find these terms. For this it is -requisite that the soul should break loose from the body, and should -give up its sensuous existence, thus rising to the pure object of -thought, where it finds itself nearer to God. We may term this a -beholding by the intelligence. But the other side is that God cannot be -discerned by the eye of the soul; the soul can only know that He is, -and not what He is. His essence is the primordial light.[208] Philo -here speaks in quite Oriental fashion; for light is certainly simple, -in contrast with which perception has the signification of knowing -something as determined, as concrete in itself. So long, therefore, -as the determination of simplicity is adhered to, this First Light -permits not itself to be known, and since Philo says, “This One is God -as such,” we cannot know what God is. In Christianity, on the contrary, -simplicity is only a moment, and only in the Whole do we find God the -Spirit. - -Philo continues: “The First is the space of the universe, encompassing -and filling it; this existence is itself place, and is filled by -itself. God is sufficient for Himself; all other things are paltry and -meaningless; He fills all other things and gives them coherence, but He -Himself is surrounded by nothing, because He Himself is One and All. -Similarly, God exists in the primordial form of time (αἰών),”[209] that -is, in the pure Notion of time. Why is it necessary that God should -fill Himself with Himself? Even the subjective and abstract has need -also of an object. But the all is likewise, as with Parmenides, the -abstract, because it is only substance, which remains empty beside that -which fills it. Absolute fulness, on the other hand, is the concrete, -and we reach this first in the λόγος, in which we have that which -fills, that which is filled, and a third composed of both. - -2. To this Philo now comes in the second place: “God’s image and -reflection is thinking reason (λόγος), the Firstborn Son, who rules and -regulates the world. This λόγος is the innermost meaning of all Ideas; -God Himself, in contrast to this, as the One, as such, is pure Being -(τὸ ὄν) only[210]—an expression which Plato also used. Here verily we -come upon a contradiction; for the image can only represent what the -thing is; if therefore the image is concrete, its original must also be -understood to be concrete. For the rest, it is therefore only logical, -after Philo has once limited the name of God to the First Light or -to pure Being, to assert that only the Son can be known. For as this -Being God is only abstract existence, or only His own Notion; and it -is quite true that the soul cannot perceive what this Being is, since -it is really only an empty abstraction. What can be perceived is that -pure existence is only an abstraction, and consequently a nothing, and -not the true God. Of God as the One it may therefore be said that the -only thing perceived is that He does exist. Perception is the knowledge -of the concrete self-determination of the living God. If we therefore -desire to know God, we must add to Being, as the First, this other -moment also; the former is defective, and as abstract as when we say, -‘God the Father,’” that is, this undisclosed One, this indeterminate -in Himself, who has not yet created anything; the other moment is, -however, the determination and distinction of Himself in Himself, the -begetting. What is begotten is His other, which at the same time is in -Him, and belongs to Him, and is thus a moment of Himself, if God is to -be thought of as concrete and living it is this that is here by Philo -called λόγος. In Christianity the name of God is therefore not limited -to Essence, but the Son is conceived of as a determination which itself -belongs to the true Essence of God. That which God is, He is therefore -as Spirit only, and that is the unity of these moments. - -God’s differences therefore, according to Philo, constitute the finite -understanding (λόγος) itself, which is then the archangel (ἀρχάγγελος), -a realm of thought which contains determinateness. That is man as -heavenly man, primeval man, who is also represented under the name of -Wisdom (σοφία, תגמה), as Adam Kadmon, as the rising of the sun—man in -God. This finite understanding now separates itself into Ideas, which -by Philo are also named angels or messengers (ἄγγελοι). This mode of -conception is not yet conception in pure thought, for forms of the -imagination are still interwoven with it. Moreover there comes in here -for the first time that which determines, where God is looked on as -activity, which so far Being was not. This λόγος is therefore itself, -we might say, the first restful world of thought, although it is -already differentiated; but another λόγος is that which gives utterance -(λόγος προφορικός) as speech. That is the activity, the creation of the -world, as the former is its preservation, its permanent understanding. -Speech has always been regarded as a manifestation of God, because it -is not corporeal; as sound it is momentary and immediately disappears; -its existence is therefore immaterial. “God created by the word of -His month, interposing nothing;” what He created remains ideal, like -speech. “If we would express the dogma in a still truer form, the Logos -is the ‘Work of God.’”[211] - -This Logos is at the same time the teacher of wisdom for -self-consciousness. For natural things are upheld only in their laws; -but self-conscious beings know also of these laws, and this is wisdom. -Thus the λόγος is the high priest, who is the mediator between God and -man, the Spirit of the Godhead, who teaches man—even the self-conscious -return of God into Himself, into that first unity of the primordial -light. That is the pure intelligible world of truth itself, which is -nothing other than the Word of God.[212] - -3. In the third place, since thought has come to negativity, the -sensuous existent world stands in opposition to this ideal world. Its -principle with Philo, as with Plato, is matter, the negative (οὐκ -ὄν).[213] As God is Being, so the essence of matter is non-being; it is -not nothing, as when we say that God created the world out of nothing, -for non-being, the opposite of Being, is itself a positive, and as -good as Being. It exists, in so far as there is placed within it a -resemblance to implicit truth. Philo had the true perception that the -opposite of Being is just as positive as Being. If this seems absurd to -anyone, he need only be reminded that really when we posit Being, the -negative of Being is thinking—which is something very positive. But the -next step, the Notion of this opposition, and the passing of Being into -non-being, is not to be found in Philo. In general this philosophy is -less a metaphysic of the Notion or of Thought itself, than a philosophy -in which Mind appears only in pure Thought, and not here in the mode -of ordinary conception—Notions and Ideas are still represented as -independent forms. Thus, for instance, it is said: “In the beginning -the Word of God created the heavens, which consist of the purest Being -and are the dwelling-place of the purest angels, which do not appear, -and are not perceptible by the senses,” but by thought alone; these -are the Ideas. “The Creator before the whole of the intelligible world -made the incorporeal heavens and the non-sensuous earth, and the Idea -of the air and of the void, and after this the incorporeal essence -of the water and an incorporeal light, and a non-sensuous archetype -(ἀρχέτυπος) of the sun and all the stars;”[214] and the sensuous world -is the anti-type of this. Philo now proceeds according to the Mosaic -record. In the Old Testament history of creation, grass, plants, and -trees are created on the third day, and on the fourth day lights in -the firmament of heaven, the sun and moon. Philo therefore says (De -mundi opificio, pp. 9, 10) that on the fourth day a number adorned the -heavens, the four, the tetractys, the most perfect, &c. These are the -main points in Philo’s philosophy. - - -B. CABALA AND GNOSTICISM. - -The Cabalistic philosophy and the Gnostic theology both occupied -themselves with these same conceptions which Philo also had. To them -also the First is the abstract, the unknown, the nameless; the Second -is the unveiling, the concrete, which goes forth into emanation. -But there is also to be found in some degree the return to unity, -especially among Christian philosophers: and this return, which is -accepted as the Third, belongs to the λόγος; so with Philo Wisdom, the -teacher, the high priest, was that which in the contemplation of God -leads back the Third to the First. - - -1. CABALISTIC PHILOSOPHY. - -Cabala is the name given to the secret wisdom of the Jews, with which, -however, much that is dark and mysterious is mingled; regarding its -origin also many fables are related. We are told of it that it is -contained in two books, _Jezirah_ (Creation) and _Sohar_ (Brightness). -_Jezirah_, the more important of these two books, is ascribed to a -certain Rabbi Akibha; it is about to be published in a more complete -form by Herr von Mayer, in Frankfort. The book has certain very -interesting general principles, and this better portion of it consists -of ideas, which in some respects resemble those of Philo, though they -are more fancifully presented, and often sink into the fantastic. It -is not of the antiquity which those who reverence the Cabala would -assign to it; for they relate that this heavenly book was given to -Adam to console him after his fall. It is a medley of astronomy, -magic, medicine, and prophecy; sundry traces followed up historically -indicate that such were cultivated in Egypt. Akibha lived soon after -the destruction of Jerusalem, and took an active part in a revolt of -the Jews against Hadrian, in the course of which they collected an army -two hundred thousand strong, in order to establish Barcochba as the -Messiah; the revolt was, however, suppressed, and the Rabbi was flayed -alive. The second book is said to have been the work of his disciple, -Rabbi Simeon Ben Jochai, who was called the Great Light, the Spark of -Moses.[215] Both books were translated into Latin in the seventeenth -century. A speculative Israelite, Rabbi Abraham Cohen Irira, also wrote -a book, the Door of Heaven (_Porta c\nlorum_); it is later, dating -from the fifteenth century, and sundry references to the Arabians and -Scholastics are contained in it. These are the sources of the high -cabalistic wisdom. - -In earlier times there is no representation among the Jews of God as -being in His essence Light, of an opposite to God, Darkness and Evil, -which is at strife with the Light; there is nothing of good and evil -angels, of the Fall of the wicked, of their condemnation, of their -being in Hell, of a future day of judgment for the good and the evil, -of the corruption of the flesh. It was not until this time that the -Jews began to carry their thoughts beyond their reality; only now does -a world of spirit, or at least of spirits, begin to open itself up -before them; before this these Jews cared only for themselves, being -sunk in the filth and self-conceit of their present existence, and in -the maintenance of their nation and tribes. - -Further particulars of the Cabala are these. One is expressed as the -principle of all things, as it is likewise the first source of all -numbers. As unity itself is not one number among the rest, so is -it with God, the basis of all things, the _En-Soph_. The emanation -therewith connected is the effect of the first cause by the limitation -of that first infinite whose boundary (ὅρος) it is. In this one cause -all is contained _eminenter_, not _formaliter_ but _causaliter_. -The second element of importance is the Adam Kadmon, the first man, -_Kether_, the first that arose, the highest crown, the microcosm, the -macrocosm, with which the world that emanated stands in connection as -the efflux of light. By further expansion the other spheres or circles -of the world came into being; and this emanation is represented as -streams of light. In the first place there come forth ten of such -emanations, _Sephiroth_, forming the pure world _Azilah_, which exists -in itself and changes not. The second is the world _Beriah_, which -does change. The third is the created world, _Jezirah_, the world of -pure spirits set in matter, the souls of the stars—that is, further -distinctions into which this dark and mysterious philosophy proceeds. -In the fourth place comes the created world, the _Asijja_: it is the -lowest, the vegetative and sensible world.[216] - - -2. THE GNOSTICS. - -Though there are various sects of the Gnostics, we find certain common -determinations constituting their basis. - -\Joe Cooper\roddr\charliehoward\— Professor Neander has with great -learning made a collection of these, and elaborated them exhaustively; -some of the forms correspond with those which we have given. Their -general aim was that of knowledge (γνῶσις); whence they also derived -their name. - -One of the most distinguished Gnostics is Basilides. For him, too, -the First is the unspeakable God (θεὸς ἄῤῥητος)—the _En-Soph_ of the -Cabala; He is, as with Philo also, that which is (τὸ ὄν), He who is (ὁ -ὤν), the nameless one (ἀνωνόμαστος)—that is, the immediate. The second -is then the Spirit (νοῦς), the first-born, also λόγος, the Wisdom -(σοφία), Power (δύναμις): more closely defined, it is Righteousness -(δικαιοσύνη), and Peace (εἰρήνη). These are followed by principles -still further determined, which Basilides names archons, heads of -spiritual kingdoms. One main point in this is likewise the return, the -refining process of the soul, the economy of purification (οἰκονονία -καθάρσεων): the soul from matter must come back to wisdom, to peace. -The First Essence bears all perfection sealed up in Himself, but only -in potentiality; Spirit, the first-born, is the first revelation of -the latent. It is, moreover, only through being made one with God that -all created beings can attain to a share in true righteousness and the -peace which flows therefrom.[217] - -The Gnostics, for instance Marcus, term the First also the Unthinkable -(ἀνεννόητος), even the Non-existent (ἀνούσιος) which proceeds not to -determinateness, the Solitude (μονότης), and the pure Silence (σιγή); -the Ideas, the angels, the æons, then form the Other. These are termed -the Notions, roots, seeds of particular fulfillings (πληρώματα), the -fruit; every æon in this bears its own special world in itself.[218] - -With others, as for instance Valentinus, the First is also termed -“the completed æon in the heights that cannot be seen or named,” or -the unfathomable, the primordial cause, the absolute abyss (ἄβυσσον, -βῦθος), wherein all is, as abrogated: also what is even before -the beginning (προάρχη), before the Father (προπάτωρ). The active -transition of the One signifies then the differentiation (διάθεσις) -of this abyss; and this development is also termed the making itself -comprehensible of the incomprehensible (κατάληψις τοῦ ἀκαταλήπτου), in -the same way that we found comprehension spoken of by the Stoics (Vol. -II. p. 250). Æons, particular expositions, are Notions. The second step -is likewise termed limitation (ὅρος); and inasmuch as the development -of life is conceived more clearly by contrast, the key to this is -stated to be contained in two principles, which appear in the form of -male and female. The one is required to perfect the other, each has its -complement (σύζυγος) in the other; from their conjunction (σύνθεσις, -συξυγία), which first constitutes the real, a perfect whole proceeds. -The inward significance of these fulfilments generally is the world of -æons, the universal filling of the abyss, which therefore, inasmuch -as what was distinguished in it was still unrevealed, is also termed -hermaphrodite, man-woman (ἀῤῥενόθηλυς),[219]—very much the same theory -as was held long before by the Pythagoreans (Vol. I. p. 221). - -Ptolemæus assigns two conjunctions (σύζυγους) to the abyss, and -two separations, which are pre-supposed throughout all temporal -existence, Will and Perception (θέλημα καὶ ἔννοια). Complicated and -motley forms here appear, but the fundamental determination is the -same throughout, and abyss and revelation are the most important -matters. The revelation which has come down is also conceived as the -glory (δόξα, Shekinah) of God; as heavenly wisdom, which is itself -a beholding of God; as unbegotten powers which encircle Him and are -radiant with the most brilliant light. To these Ideas the name of God -is more especially given, and in this regard He is also called the -many-named (πολυώνυμος), the demiurge; this is the manifestation, the -determination of God.[220] - -All these forms pass into the mysterious, but they have on the whole -the same determinations as principle; and the general necessity which -forms their basis is a profound necessity of reason, namely, the -determination and comprehension of what is absolute as the concrete. -I have, however, merely been desirous of calling these forms to -remembrance, in order to indicate their connection with the universal. - - -C. ALEXANDRIAN PHILOSOPHY. - -The unity of self-consciousness and Being appears in more philosophical -and intelligent form in the Alexandrian School, which constitutes the -most important, and at the same time the most characteristic form of -philosophy pertaining to this sphere. For Alexandria had for some time -past, mainly through the Ptolemies, become the principal seat of the -sciences. Here, as if in their centre-point, all the popular religions -and mythologies of the East and West, and likewise their history, came -into touch and intermingled with one another in various forms and -shapes. Religions were compared with one another: in each of them there -was, on the one hand, a searching for and putting together of that -which was contained also in the other, and, on the other hand, there -was the more important task of reading into the popular conceptions -of religion a deeper meaning, and of giving to them a universal -allegorical signification. This endeavour has doubtless given birth to -much that is dim and mystical; its purer product is the Alexandrian -Philosophy. The bringing together of the philosophies naturally -succeeded better than those connections which, on the side of religion, -are only the mystic products of a Reason that as yet is unintelligible -to itself. For while in fact there is but one Idea in Philosophy, it -annuls by its own means the special form which it has adopted, the -one-sidedness in which it expresses itself. In Scepticism had been -reached this negative stage of seeing annulled the definite modes of -Being in which the Absolute was posited. - -Since the form of philosophy which arose in Alexandria did not attach -itself to any of the earlier philosophic schools, but recognized -all the different systems of philosophy, and more especially the -Pythagorean, Platonic, and Aristotelian, to be in their various forms -but one, it was frequently asserted to be Eclecticism. Brucker (Hist. -crit. phil. T. II., p. 193) is the first to do so, as I have found, -and Diogenes Laërtius gave him the occasion thereto, by speaking -(Pr\nmium, § 21) of a certain Potamo of Alexandria, who not so very -long before (ρπὸ ὀλίγου) had selected from the different philosophies -their principal maxims and the best of their teaching. Then Diogenes -goes on to quote several passages from Potamo, saying that this -writer had produced an eclectic philosophy; but these maxims drawn -from Aristotle, Plato, and the Stoics are not of importance, and the -distinguishing characteristics of the Alexandrians cannot be recognized -therein. Diogenes is also earlier than the Alexandrian School; but -Potamo, according to Suidas (s.v. Ποτάμον, T. III., p. 161), was -tutor of the stepsons of Augustus, and for the instructor of princes -eclecticism is a very suitable creed. Therefore, because this Potamo -is an Alexandrian, Brucker has bestowed on the Alexandrian philosophy -the name of Eclectic; but that is neither consistent with fact, nor is -it true to history. Eclecticism is something to be utterly condemned, -if it is understood in the sense of one thing being taken out of this -philosophy, and another thing out of that philosophy, altogether -regardless of their consistency or connection, as when a garment is -patched together of pieces of different colours or stuffs. Such an -eclecticism gives nothing but an aggregate which lacks all inward -consistency. Eclectics of this kind are sometimes ordinary uncultured -men, in whose heads the most contradictory ideas find a place side -by side, without their ever bringing these thoughts together and -becoming conscious of the contradictions involved; sometimes they are -men of intelligence who act thus with their eyes open, thinking that -they attain the best when, as they say, they take the good from every -system, and so provide themselves with a _vade mecum_ of reflections, -in which they have everything good except consecutiveness of thought, -and consequently thought itself. An eclectic philosophy is something -that is altogether meaningless and inconsequent: and such a philosophy -the Alexandrian philosophy is not. In France the Alexandrians are -still called Eclectics; and there, where _système_ is synonymous with -narrowness of views, and where indeed one must have the name which -sounds least systematic and suspicious, that may be borne with. - -In the better sense of the word the Alexandrians may, however, very -well be called eclectic philosophers, though it is quite superfluous -to give them this designation at all. For the Alexandrians took as -their groundwork the philosophy of Plato, but availed themselves of -the general development of Philosophy, which after Plato they became -acquainted with through Aristotle and all the following philosophies, -and especially through the Stoics; that is to say, they reinstated it, -but as invested with a higher culture. Therefore we find in them no -refutation of the views of the philosophers whom they quote. To this -higher culture there more especially belongs the deeper principle that -absolute essence must be apprehended as self-consciousness, that its -very essence is to be self-consciousness, and that it is therefore -in the individual consciousness. This is not to be understood as -signifying that God is a Spirit who is outside of the world and outside -self-consciousness, as is often said, but as indicating that His -existence as self-conscious spirit is really self-consciousness itself. -The Platonic universal, which is in thought, accordingly receives the -signification of being as such absolute essence. In the higher sense a -wider point of view as regards the Idea thus signifies its concretely -blending into one the preceding principles, which contain only single -one-sided moments of the Idea. This really indicates a deeper knowledge -of the philosophical Idea which is known concretely in itself, so -that the more abstract principles are contained in the deeper form -of the Idea. For after some divergence has taken place in the past -it must from time to time come about that the implicit identity of -the divergent views is recognized, so that difference has force only -as form. In this sense even Plato is eclectic, since he harmonized -Pythagoras, Heraclitus, and Parmenides; and the Alexandrians are also -thus eclectics, seeing that they were just as much Pythagoreans as -Platonists and Aristotelians; the only thing is that this term always -at once calls up the idea of an arbitrary selection. - -All earlier philosophies could therefore find a place in that of -the Alexandrians. For in Alexandria the Ptolemies had attracted to -themselves science and the learned, partly by reason of their own -interest in science, and partly on account of the excellence of their -institutions. They founded the great and celebrated library for which -the Greek translation of the Old Testament was made; after Cæsar had -destroyed it, it was again restored. There was also there a museum, or -what would nowadays be called an Academy of Science, where philosophers -and men of special learning received payments of money, and had no -other duties than that of prosecuting scientific study. In later times -such foundations were instituted in Athens also, and each philosophic -school had its own public establishment,[221] without favour being -shown to one philosophy or to the other. Thus the Neo-Platonic -philosophy arose beside the others, and partly upon their ruins, and -overshadowed the rest, until finally all earlier systems were merged -therein. It, therefore, did not constitute an individual philosophical -school similar to those which went before; but, while it united them -all in itself, it had as its leading characteristic the study of Plato, -of Aristotle, and of the Pythagoreans. - -With this study was combined an interpretation of the writings of these -men, which aimed at exhibiting their philosophic ideas in their unity; -and the principal mode in which the Neo-Platonic teachers carried on -and elaborated Philosophy consisted in their explaining the various -philosophical works, especially the writings of Plato and Aristotle, or -giving sketches of these philosophies. These commentaries on the early -philosophers were either given in lectures or written; and many of them -have come down to us, some in the number being excellent. Aristotle’s -works were commented on by Alexander Aphrodisiensis, Andronicus -Rhodius, Nicolaus Damascenus, and also Porphyrius. Plato had as -commentators Numenius and Maximus Tyrius. Other Alexandrians combined -a commentary on Plato with study of the other philosophic maxims or -philosophies, and managed to grasp the point of unity of the various -modes of the Idea very successfully. The best commentaries date from -this period; most of the works of Proclus are commentaries on single -dialogues of Plato and similar subjects. This school has the further -peculiarity of expressing speculation as actual divine Being and life, -and, therefore, it makes this appear to be mystical and magical. - - -1. AMMONIUS SACCAS. - -Ammonius Saccas, that is, the sack-bearer, is named as one of the first -or most celebrated teachers of this school; he died A.D. 243.[222] -But we have none of his writings, nor have any traditions regarding -his philosophy come down to us. Among his very numerous disciples -Ammonius had many men celebrated in other branches of science, for -example, Longinus and Origen; it is, however, uncertain if this were -the Christian Father of that name. But his most renowned disciple in -philosophy is Plotinus, through whose writings as they are preserved -to us we derive our chief knowledge of the Neo-Platonic philosophy. -The systematized fabric of this philosophy is, indeed, ascribed to him -by those who came after, and this philosophy is known specially as his -philosophy. - - -2. PLOTINUS. - -As the disciples of Ammonius had, by their master’s desire, made an -agreement not to commit his philosophy to writing, it was not until -late in life that Plotinus wrote; or, rather, the works received from -him were published after his death by Porphyrius, one of his disciples. -From the same disciple we have an account of the life of Plotinus; what -is remarkable in it is that the strictly historical facts recounted -are mixed up with a great variety of marvellous episodes. This is -certainly the period when the marvellous plays a prominent part; but -when the pure system of Philosophy, the pure meaning of such a man, is -known, it is impossible to express all one’s astonishment at anecdotes -of this kind. Plotinus was an Egyptian; he was born at Lycopolis about -A.D. 205, in the reign of Septimius Severus. After he had attended -the lectures of many teachers of Philosophy, he became melancholy -and absorbed in thought; at the age of eight and twenty he came to -Ammonius, and, finding here at last what satisfied him, he remained for -eleven years under his instruction. As at that time wonderful accounts -of Indian and Brahminical wisdom were being circulated, Plotinus set -out on his way to Persia in the army of the Emperor Gordian; but -the campaign ended so disastrously that Plotinus did not attain his -object, and had difficulty even in procuring his own safety. At -the age of forty he proceeded to Rome, and remained there until his -death, twenty-six years later. In Rome his outward demeanour was most -remarkable; in accordance with the ancient Pythagorean practice, he -refrained from partaking of flesh, and often imposed fasts on himself; -he wore, also, the ancient Pythagorean dress. As a public lecturer, -however, he gained a high reputation among all classes. The Emperor of -those days, Gallienus, whose favour Plotinus enjoyed, as well as that -of the Empress, is said to have been inclined to hand over to him a -town in Campania, where he thought to realize the Platonic Republic. -The ministers, however, prevented the carrying out of this plan, and -therein they showed themselves men of sense, for in such an outlying -spot of the Roman Empire, and considering the utter change in the -human mind since Plato’s days, when another spiritual principle had -of necessity to make itself universal, this was an enterprise which -was far less calculated than in Plato’s time to bring honour to the -Platonic Republic. It does little credit to the sagacity of Plotinus -that this idea ever entered into his head; but we do not exactly know -if his plan were limited to the Platonic Republic, or if it did not -admit of some extension or modification thereof. Of course an actual -Platonic state was contrary to the nature of things; for the Platonic -state is free and independent, which such an one as this, within the -Roman Empire, could of course not be. Plotinus died at Rome, in the -sixty-sixth year of his age, A.D. 270.[223] - -The writings of Plotinus are originally for the most part answers -given as occasion required to questions proposed by his auditors; he -committed them to writing during the last sixteen years of his life, -and Porphyrius edited them some time later. In his teaching Plotinus -adopted, as has been already mentioned, the method of commenting in -his lectures on the writings of various earlier philosophers. The -writings of Plotinus are known as Enneads, and are six in number, each -of them containing nine separate treatises. We thus have altogether -fifty-four of such treatises or books, which are subdivided into many -chapters; it is consequently a voluminous work. The books do not, -however, form a connected whole; but in each book, in fact, there are -special matters brought forward and philosophically handled; and it is -thus laborious to go through them. The first Ennead has for the most -part a moral character; the first book proposes the question of what -animals are, and what man is; the second deals with the virtues; the -third with dialectic; the fourth with happiness (περὶ εὐδαιμονίας); the -fifth investigates whether happiness consists in protraction of time -(παρατάσει χρόνου); the sixth speaks of the beautiful; the seventh of -the highest (πρώτου) good and of the other goods; the eighth inquires -into the origin of evil; the ninth treats of a rational departure from -life. Other Enneads are of a metaphysical nature. Porphyrius says in -his Life of Plotinus (pp. 3-5, 9, 17-19) that they are unequal. He -states that twenty-one of these books were already in written form -before he came to Plotinus, which was when the latter was fifty-nine -years of age; and in that year and the five following, which Porphyrius -spent with Plotinus as his disciple, other four-and-twenty were added. -During the absence of Porphyrius in Sicily, Plotinus wrote nine more -books, in the last years before his death, which later books are -weaker. Creuzer is preparing to bring out an edition of Plotinus. To -give an account of him would be a difficult task, and would amount to -a systematic explanation. The mind of Plotinus hovers over each of the -particular matters that he deals with; he treats them rationally and -dialectically, but traces them all back to one Idea. Many beautiful -detached quotations could be made from Plotinus, but as there is in -his works a continual repetition of certain leading thoughts, the -reading of them is apt to prove wearisome. Since then it is the manner -of Plotinus to lead the particular, which he makes his starting-point, -always back again to the universal, it is possible to grasp the ideas -of Plotinus from some of his books, knowing that the reading of those -remaining would not reveal to us any particular advance. Plato’s ideas -and expressions are predominant with him, but we find also many very -lengthy expositions quite in the manner of Aristotle; for he makes -constant use of terms borrowed from Aristotle—force, energy, &c.—and -their relations are essentially the object of his meditations. The main -point is that he is not to be taken as placing Plato and Aristotle in -opposition; on the contrary, he went so far as to adopt even the Logos -of the Stoics. - -It is very difficult to give a systematic account of his philosophy. -For it is not the aim of Plotinus, as it was of Aristotle, to -comprehend objects in their special determinations, but rather -to emphasize the truth of the substantial in them as against the -phenomenal. The point of greatest importance and the leading -characteristic in Plotinus is his high, pure enthusiasm for the -elevation of mind to what is good and true, to the absolute. He lays -hold of knowledge, the simply ideal, and of intellectual thought, which -is implicitly life, but not silent nor sealed. His whole philosophy is -on the one hand metaphysics, but the tendency which is therein dominant -is not so much an anxiety to explain and interpret and comprehend -what forces itself on our attention as reality, or to demonstrate the -position and the origin of these individual objects, and perhaps, -for instance, to offer a deduction of matter, of evil; but rather to -separate the mind from these externals, and give it its central place -in the simple, clear Idea. The whole tenor of his philosophy thus leads -up to virtue and to the intellectual contemplation of the eternal, as -source of the same; so that the soul is brought to happiness of life -therein. Plotinus then enters to some extent on special considerations -of virtue, with the view of cleansing the soul from passions, from -false and impure conceptions of evil and destiny, and also from -incredulity and superstition, from astrology and magic and all their -train. This gives some idea of the general drift of his teaching. - -If we now go on to consider the philosophy of Plotinus in detail, -we find that there is no longer any talk of the criterion, as with -the Stoics and Epicureans,—that is all settled; but a strenuous -effort is made to take up a position in the centre of things, in -pure contemplation, in pure thought. Thus what with the Stoics and -Epicureans is the aim, the unity of the soul with itself in untroubled -peace, is here the point of departure; Plotinus takes up the position -of bringing this to pass in himself as a condition of ecstasy -(ἔκστασις), as he calls it, or as an inspiration. Partly in this name -and partly in the facts themselves, a reason has been found for calling -Plotinus a fanatic and visionary, and this is the cry universally -raised against this philosophy; to this assertion the fact that for the -Alexandrian school all truth lies in reason and comprehension alone, -presents a very marked antithesis and contradiction. - -And firstly, with regard to the term ecstasy, those who call Plotinus a -fanatic associate with the idea nothing but that condition into which -crazy Indians, Brahmins, monks and nuns fall, when, in order to bring -about an entire retreat into themselves, they seek to blot out from -their minds all ordinary ideas and all perception of reality; thus this -in some measure exists as a permanent and fixed condition; and again as -a steady gaze into vacuity it appears as light or as darkness, devoid -of motion, distinction, and, in a word, of thought. Fanaticism like -this places truth in an existence which stands midway between reality -and the Notion, but is neither the one nor the other,—and therefore -only a creature of the imagination. From this view of ecstasy, however, -Plotinus is far removed. - -But in the second place there is something in the thing itself which -has contributed to bring upon him this reproach, and it is this, -that very often the name of fanaticism is given to anything that -transcends sensuous consciousness or the fixed notions of the finite -understanding, which in their limitation are held to constitute real -existence. Partly, however, the imputation is due to the manner in -which Plotinus speaks in general of Notions, spiritual moments as -such, as if they had a substantial existence of their own. That is to -say, Plotinus sometimes introduces sensuous modes, modes of ordinary -conception, into the world of Notions, and sometimes he brings down -Ideas into the sphere of the sensuous, since, for instance, he utilizes -the necessary relations of things for purposes of magic. For the -magician is just he who attributes to certain words and particular -sensuous signs a universal efficacy, and who attempts by prayers, -&c., to lift them up to the universal. Such a universal this is not, -however, in itself, in its own nature: universality is only attributed -to it; or the universal of thought has not yet given itself therein a -universal reality, while the thought, the act of a hero is the true, -the universal, whose effects and whose means have equal greatness and -universality. In a certain sense therefore the Neo-Platonists have -well deserved the reproach of fanaticism, for in the biographies of -the great teachers of this school, Plotinus, Porphyrius and Iamblichus -we certainly find much recounted that comes under the category of -miracle-working and sorcery, just as we found it in the case of -Pythagoras (Vol. I. p. 200). Upholding as they did the belief in the -gods of heathendom, they asserted in reference to the worship of images -that these really were filled with the divine power and presence. -Thus the Alexandrian school cannot be altogether absolved from the -charge of superstition.[224] For in the whole of that period of the -world’s history, among Christians and heathen alike, the belief in -miracle-working prevailed, because the mind, absorbed in itself and -filled with astonishment at the infinite power and majesty of this -self, paid no heed to the natural connection of events, and made the -interference of a supreme power seem easy. But what the philosophers -taught is utterly remote therefrom; except the quite theoretical -observation regarding the images of the gods which we mentioned above, -the writings of Plotinus contain nothing in any way related thereto. - -He then who gives the name of fanaticism to every effort of the soul -to rise to the supersensuous, to every belief that man can have in -the virtuous, the noble, the divine, the eternal, to every religious -conviction,—may count the Neo-Platonists as being fanatics; but -fanaticism is in this case an empty name employed only by the dull -finite understanding, and by unbelief in all that is high and noble. If -we, however, give the name of fanatics to those who rise to speculative -truths which contradict the categories of the finite understanding, the -Alexandrians have indeed incurred this imputation, but with quite equal -reason may the Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy be also termed -fanaticism. For Plato most certainly speaks with enthusiasm of the -elevation of the spirit into thought, or rather the Platonic enthusiasm -proper consists in rising into the sphere of the movement of thought. -Those who are convinced that the absolute essence in thought is not -thought itself, constantly reiterate that God is beyond consciousness, -and that the thought of Him is the notion of One whose existence or -reality is nevertheless an utterly different thing; just as, when we -think of or imagine an animal or a stone, our notion or imagination is -something quite different from the animal itself,—which is making this -last to be the truth. But we are not speaking of this or that animal -perceived by our senses, but of its essential reality, and this is the -Notion of it. The essential reality of the animal is not present as -such in the animal of our senses, but as being one with the objective -individuality, as a mode of that universal; as essence it is our -Notion, which indeed alone is true, whereas what the senses perceive is -negative. Thus our Notion of absolute essence is the essence itself, -when it is the Notion of absolute essence, not of something else. But -this essence does not seem to be co-extensive with the idea of God; for -He is not only Essence or His Notion, but His existence. His existence, -as pure essence, is our thought of Him; but His real existence is -Nature. In this real existence the ‘I’ is that which has the faculty of -individual thought; it belongs to this existence as a moment present -in it, but does not constitute it. From the existence of essence as -essence we must pass over to existence, to real existence as such. -As such, God is doubtless a Beyond to individual self-consciousness, -that is to say, of course, in the capacity of essence or pure thought; -thus to a certain extent He, as individual reality, is Nature which is -beyond thought. But even this objective mode comes back into essence, -or the individuality of consciousness is overcome. Therefore what has -brought upon Plotinus the reproach of fanaticism is this, that he had -the thought of the essence of God being Thought itself and present in -Thought. As the Christians said that He was once present to sensuous -perception at a certain time and in a certain place—but also that He -ever dwells in His people and is their Spirit—so Plotinus said that -absolute essence is present in the self-consciousness that thinks, and -exists in it as essence, or Thought itself is the Divine. - -In further defining the relation of individual self-consciousness to -the knowledge of absolute essence, Plotinus asserts (Ennead. VI. l. 7, -c. 35, 36) that the soul which withdraws from the corporeal and loses -every conception but that of pure essence brings itself nigh to the -Deity. The principle of the philosophy of Plotinus is therefore the -Reason which is in and for itself. The condition of ecstasy through -which alone that which has true Being comes to be known, is named -by Plotinus (Ennead. VI. l. 9, c. 11) a simplification of the soul, -through which it is brought into a state of blissful repose, because -its object is itself simple and at rest. But it is evident that we -are not to imagine this simplification of self-consciousness to be -a condition of fanaticism, seeing that even an immediate knowledge -of God such as this is a thinking of Him and a comprehension of Him, -and not a vacant feeling, or what is quite as vacant, an intuition. -This withdrawal of the soul from the body takes place through pure -thought; thought is the activity and at the same time the object. It -is thus a tranquil state, without any wild turmoil of the blood or -of the imagination. Ecstasy is not a mere rapturous condition of the -senses and fancy, but rather a passing beyond the content of sensuous -consciousness; it is pure thought that is at home with itself, and -is its own object. Plotinus often speaks of this condition in the -same way as in the following passage: “Often when I out of the body -awaken to myself, and am beyond the other,” the external, “and have -entered into my inmost nature, and have a wondrous intuition, and live -a godlike life,” &c.[225] In this way Plotinus certainly approaches -to the intuitive point of view. Yet his figurative mode of expression -separates itself still more from the, in great measure, confused -mythical ideas. The Idea of the philosophy of Plotinus is thus an -intellectualism or a higher idealism, which indeed from the side of the -Notion is not yet a perfect idealism; that of which Plotinus becomes -conscious in his ecstasy is, however, philosophic thought, speculative -Notions and Ideas. - -As for the determinate principle of Plotinus, the objective, the -content, which is at home with itself in this ecstasy, in this Being of -Thought—this content, as regards its chief moments in the universal, is -that already dealt with. The three principles are for him the One, the -νοῦς and the soul. - -a. The first, the absolute, the basis, is here, as with Philo, pure -Being, the unchangeable, which is the basis and the cause of all Being -that appears, whose potentiality is not apart from its actuality, but -is absolute actuality in itself. It is the unity which is likewise -essence, or unity as the essence of all essence. The true principle -is not the multiplicity of present Being, the ordinary substantiality -of things, according to which each appears as one separated from the -others, for really and truly their unity is their essence. This unity -is, properly speaking, not All; for All is nothing but the result of -the units, the comprehension of them—forming the basis, as they do, as -essence—in a unity which is strange to them. Nor is it before all; for -it is not different from the all in actual existence, since otherwise -it would again be only something thought.[226] The later unity, as -regulative of the Reason, has the force of a subjective principle; but -Plotinus establishes it as the highest objectivity, as Being. - -This unity has no multiplicity in it, or multiplicity is not implicit; -unity is only as it was for Parmenides and Zeno, absolute, pure -Being; or else the absolute Good, in the sense in which the absolute -was spoken of in the writings of Plato and especially in those of -Aristotle. In the first place, what is the Good?—“It is that on -which all depends (ἀνήρτηται),[227] and which all things desire -(ἐφίεται)”—also according to Aristotle—“and have as principle, and -which they are all in want of, while itself it has lack of nothing, is -sufficient for itself, and is the measure and limit of all, which out -of itself gives the νοῦς and essence (οὐσίαν) and soul and life, and -the activity of reason (περὶ νοῦν ἐνήργειαν). And up to this point all -is beautiful, but _it_ is more than beautiful (ὑπέρκαλος) and better -than the best (ἐπέκεινα τῶν ἀρίστων), the superlatively good, bearing -free rule, exercising royal rights in Thought (βασιλεύων ἐν τῷ νοητῷ). -But it is itself by no means that whose principle it is. For when thou -hast said “the Good,” add nothing thereto, and think of nothing beyond. -When thou hast abrogated Being itself, and takest it in this wise, -astonishment will seize thee; and, making this thy aim and resting -therein, thou wilt understand it and its greatness by what is derived -from it. And when thou hast Being thus before thee, and regardest it in -this purity, wonder will lay hold of thee.”[228] - -Of absolute Being Plotinus then asserted that it is unknowable—which -Philo also said—and that it remains in itself. On this point Plotinus -expatiates at great length, and frequently recurs to the fact that the -soul must really first attain to the thought of this unity through -negative movement, which is something different from mere assertion, -and is rather sceptical movement which makes trial of all predicates -and finds nothing except this One. All such predicates as Being and -substance do not conform to it in the opinion of Plotinus; for they -express some determination or other. There is no sensation, no thought, -no consciousness; for in all these there lies a distinction. Because -the determination of the One is the main point, with Plotinus the -Good is the aim for subjective thought as well as for practical; but -although the Good is the absolutely free, it is nevertheless without -resolution and will; for will has in it the distinction of itself and -the Good.[229] - -That Being is and remains God, and is not outside of Him, but is His -very self: “Absolute unity upholds things that they fall not asunder; -it is the firm bond of unity in all, penetrating all—bringing together -and unifying things which in mutual opposition were in danger of -separation. We term it the One and the Good. It neither _is_, nor is it -something, nor is it anything, but it is over all. All these categories -are negatived; it has no magnitude, is not infinite. It is the middle -point of the universe, the eternal source of virtue and the origin of -divine love, around which all moves, by which every thing directs its -course, in which νοῦς and self-consciousness ever have their beginning -and their end.”[230] To this substance Plotinus leads back everything; -it alone is the true, and in all remains simply identical with itself. - -But out of this First all proceeds, owing to its revealing itself; that -is the connection with creation and all production. But the Absolute -cannot be conceived as creative, if it is determinate as an abstract, -and is not rather comprehended as the One which has energy in itself. -This transition to the determinate is thus not made by Plotinus -philosophically or dialectically, but the necessity of it is expressed -in representations and images. Thus he says (Ennead. III. l. 8, c. 9) -of the νοῦς, his second principle, “The one absolute Good is a source -which has no other principle, but is the principle for all streams, so -that it is not swallowed up by these, but as source remains at rest in -itself,” and thus contains these streams as such in itself; so that -they, “flowing out in one direction and another, have yet not flowed -away, but know whence and whither they are flowing.” This distinction -is the point to which Plotinus often returns, and this advance from the -unrevealed to the revelation, this production, is a point of importance. - -b. Now what is first begotten by this Unity, the Son, is finite -understanding (νοῦς), the second Divine Being, the other principle. -Here the main difficulty confronts us—the task known and recognized -long years ago—the comprehension of how the One came to the decision -to determine itself; and the endeavour to elucidate this fact still -constitutes the essential point of interest. The ancients did not -frame this question in the definite form in which we have it; but they -nevertheless occupied themselves with it. For the νοῦς is nothing -more or less than the self-finding of self; it is the pure duality -(δυάς), itself and its object; it contains all that is thought, it is -this distinction, but pure distinction that remains at the same time -identical with itself. Simple unity is, however, the First. Plotinus -thus also says in a somewhat Pythagorean fashion that things are as -numbers in this λόγος. “But number is not the First, for unity is not -a number. The first number is the two, but as indeterminate duality; -and the one is what determines it; the two is also the soul. Number is -the solid; what sensuous perception takes to be existent, is a later -development.”[231] - -Plotinus has here (Ennead. V. l. 1, c. 6) all sorts of modes of -representation in order to make clear to himself the development out -of the One: “How then this process is accomplished, how out of unity -proceed two and plurality in general—if we would know how to express -this, we must call on God, not, however, with audible voice, but -pouring out our soul in prayer to Him; this we can do only by coming -all alone to Him who is alone. He who contemplates must retire into his -secret heart as into a temple, and remain there at rest, being elevated -above all things, and in such contemplation as admits of no change.” -This is always the mood of the thinking soul, to which Plotinus exhorts -and would lead everything back. In this pure thought or contemplation -the νοῦς is actual; and this is divine activity itself. - -Plotinus continues: “This production is not a movement nor a change; -change and what comes to pass through change, the changeable, we -arrive at only in the third place;” change implies other-Being and is -directed to something else, νοῦς is still the remaining at home with -self of meditation. “The finite understanding originating thus from -absolute essence, yet without change, is the immediate reflection of -the same; it is not established by an act of will or a resolution. -But God,” as One, the Good, “is the immovable; and production is a -light proceeding from Him who endures. The One sheds light round about -Himself; the finite understanding flows from Him, the enduring one, -just as the light from the sun encircles it. All things which are -permanent give forth and diffuse from their substance an essence which -is dependent upon them;” or, as Plotinus really says, it is identical -with them. “As fire diffuses warmth, and snow cold, around itself, but -especially as the fragrance of things clings round them,” so does νοῦς, -like light, diffuse Being around. “That which has come to perfection -passes into the emanation, into the circle of light,” spreads a -fragrance around.[232] For this going forth (πρόοδον) or production, -Plotinus also employs the image of overflowing, whereby, however, the -One remains simply one. “Because it is complete in itself, without -anything lacking, it overflows; and this overflow is what is produced. -This that is produced merely, however, returns to the One,” the Good, -“which is its object, content and fulfilling; and this is finite -understanding,”—this the reversion of what is produced to the original -unity. “The first state of Being that is restful is absolute essence, -and finite understanding is the contemplation of this essence;” or it -comes into existence by means of the first essence, through return upon -itself, seeing itself, by its being a seeing seeing. The light shed -around is a contemplation of the One; this reflection of self on self -(ἐπιστρέφειν) is then thought, or the νοῦς is this movement in a circle -(ἐπιστροφή).[233] - -These are the main principles of Plotinus; and he has in this way -truly determined the nature of the Idea in all its moments. Only there -is a difficulty here which makes us pause; and it is found in this -development. We can imagine the infinite disclosing itself in a variety -of ways; in later times there has been much talk of an issuing-forth -from God, which, however, is still a sensuous conception or something -quite immediate. The necessity of self-disclosure is not expressed -thereby, for it is stated only as something having come to pass. That -the Father begets the eternal Son satisfies the imagination; the Idea -is according to its content quite correctly conceived as the Trinity, -and this is an important matter. But although these determinations are -true, the form of the immediacy of movement is at the same time neither -sufficient nor satisfying for the Notion. For because the Becoming of -the simple unity, as the abrogation of all predicates, is that same -absolute negativity which is implicitly the production of itself, we -must not begin with unity and only then pass over into duality, but we -must grasp them both as one. For, according to Plotinus, the object of -the finite understanding is clearly nothing which is alien or opposite -to this or to itself; the manifold Ideas are alone the content of the -same. God therefore through distinction and extension is likewise a -return to Himself, that is, this very duality is simply in the unity, -and is its object. What is thought is not outside of νοῦς in thought -νοῦς merely possesses itself as thinking. The object of thought, that -to which thought turns back, is absolute unity; into this, however, as -such, there is no forcing a way, and it is not determined, but remains -the unknown. Since thinking is, however, only the fact of having itself -as object, it has thus already an object which contains mediation and -activity, or, to speak generally, duality in itself. This is Thought as -the thought of Thought. Or in the perfecting of this thought in itself, -inasmuch as it is its own object, there lies for Plotinus the first -and truly intellectual world, which thus stands to the world of sense -in such a relation that the latter is only a distant imitation of the -former. Things, looked at as they exist in this absolute Thought, are -their own Notions and essence (λόγοι); and these are the patterns of -sensuous existences, as Plato also expressed it.[234] - -That the nature of thought is to think itself, is a quite Aristotelian -definition. But with Plotinus and the Alexandrians it is likewise the -case that the true universe, the intellectual worlds is produced from -thought; what Plato termed the Ideas, is here the understanding that -forms, the intelligence that produces, which is actual in that which -is produced, and has itself as object, thinks itself. Of the relation -of these many Notions in the understanding, Plotinus states that they -are present there, just as the elements are present in a thing, and -therefore not as mutually indifferent species, but as being diverse -and yet entirely one. They are not indifferent through space, but -only differ through an inner difference, that is, not in the manner -of existent parts.[235] The finite understanding is thereby expressed -as negative unity. But it is utterly inappropriate when the relation -of the elements which constitute a thing is defined as that of the -parts of which the whole consists, and each of which is absolute—for -instance, when it is represented that in a crystal, water, flint, -&c., are still present as such. Their Being is really neutrality, in -which each of them is abrogated as indifferent and existent: therefore -their unity is negative unity, the inner essence, the principle of -individuality as containing in itself elements that differ. - -_c._ The world that changes, which is subject to difference, arises -from this, that the multiplicity of these forms is not only implicitly -in the understanding, but they also exist for it in the form of its -object. Further, there is for it a three-fold mode of thinking: in the -first place it thinks the unchangeable, its unity, as object. This -first mode is the simple undifferentiated contemplation of its object, -or it is light; not matter, but pure form, activity. Space is the -abstract pure continuity of this activity of light, not the activity -itself, but the form of its uninterruptedness. The understanding, as -the thought of this light, is itself light, but light real in itself, -or the light of light.[236] In the second place the understanding -thinks the difference between itself and essence; the differentiated -multiplicity of the existent is object for it. It is the creation of -the world; in it everything has its determinate form in regard to -everything else, and this constitutes the substance of things. Since, -in the third place, substantiality or permanency in the faculty of -thought is determination, its production, or the flowing out of all -things from it, is of such a nature that it remains filled with all -things, or likewise absorbs all immediately. It is the abrogation -of these differences, or the passing over from one to another; this -is its manner of thinking itself, or it is object to itself in this -fashion. This is change; thinking has thus the three principles in -it. Inasmuch as νοῦς thinks of itself as changing, but yet in change -remaining simple and at home with itself, the subject of its thought -is life as a whole; and the fact of its establishing its moments as -existing in opposition to each other is the true, living universe. This -turning round on itself of the outflow from itself, this thinking of -itself, is the eternal creation of the world.[237] It is plain that -in these thoughts of Plotinus the Being-another, the foreign element, -is abrogated, existent things are implicitly Notions. The Divine -understanding is the thinking of them, and their existence is nothing -else than this very fact of their being the object of thought of the -Divine understanding; they are moments of thought and, for this very -reason, of Being. Plotinus thus distinguishes in νοῦς thinking (νοῦς), -the object thought of (νοητόν), and thought (νόησις), so that νοῦς is -one, and at the same time all; but thought is the unity of what had -been distinguished.[238] We would term thought not so much unity as -product; yet even thought, that is, the subject, soars upwards to God. -The distinction between thought and an external God is thus doubtless -at an end; for this reason the Neo-Platonists are accused of being -visionaries, and in truth they do themselves propound wondrous things. - -α. Plotinus now goes on to describe the third principle, the soul: -“Νοῦς is eternally active in exactly the same way as now. The movement -to it and around it is the activity of the soul. Reason (λόγος), which -passes from it to the soul, confers on the soul a power of thought, -placing nothing between them. Thinking (νοῦς) is not a manifold; -thinking is simple, and consists in the very fact of thinking. The -true νοῦς (not ours, as it is found, for instance, in desire) thinks -in thoughts, and the object of its thought is not beyond it; for it is -itself the object of its thought, has of necessity itself in thought -and sees itself; and sees itself not as non-thinking, but as thinking. -Our soul is partly in the eternal” (light), “a part of the universal -soul; this itself is in part in the eternal, and flows out thence, -remaining in contemplation of itself, without any designed regulation. -The embellishment of the whole gives to every corporeal object what in -view of its determination and nature it is capable of carrying out, -just as a central fire diffuses warmth all around it. The One must not -be solitary, for were it so all things would be hidden, and would have -no form present in them; nothing of what exists would exist if the -One stood by itself, neither would there be the multitude of existent -things, produced by the One, if those who have attained to the order of -souls had not received the power to go forth. Similarly souls must not -exist alone, as if what is produced through them should not appear, for -in every nature it is immanent to make and bring to light something in -conformity with itself, as the seed does from an undivided beginning. -There is nothing to prevent all from having a share in the nature of -the Good.”[239] Plotinus leaves the corporeal and sensuous on one -side, as it were, and does not take pains to explain it, his sole and -constant aim being to purify therefrom, in order that the universal -soul and our soul may not be thereby endangered. - -β. Plotinus speaks, moreover, of the principle of the sensuous -world, which is matter, and with which the origin of evil is closely -connected. He dwells much on this subject of matter in his philosophy. -Matter is the non-existent (οῦκ ὄν), which presents an image of the -existent. Things differ in their pure form, the difference that -distinguishes them; the universal of difference is the negative, and -this is matter. As Being is the first absolute unity, this unity of the -objective is the pure negative; it lacks all predicates and properties, -figure, &c. It is thus itself a thought or pure Notion, and indeed the -Notion of pure indeterminateness; or it is universal potentiality -without energy. Plotinus describes this pure potentiality very well, -and defines it as the negative principle. He says, “Brass is a statue -only in potentiality; for in what is not permanent, the possible, as we -have seen, was something utterly different. But when the grammarian in -potentiality becomes the grammarian in actuality, the potential is the -same as the actual. The ignorant man may be a grammarian, as it were -by accident (κατὰ συμβεβηκός), and it is not in virtue of his present -ignorance that he has the possibility of knowledge. It is for the very -reason of its possessing a certain measure of knowledge that the soul -which is actual attains to what it was potentially. It would not be -inappropriate to give the name of form and idea to energy, in so far as -it exists as energy and not as mere potentiality—not simply as energy, -but as the energy of something determinate. For we might give the -name more properly, perhaps, to another energy, namely that which is -opposed to the potentiality which leads to actuality, for the possible -has the possibility of being something else in actuality. But through -possibility the possible has also in itself actuality, just as skill -has the activity related thereto, and as bravery has brave action. When -in the object of thought (ἐν τοῖς νοηντοῖς)[240] there is no matter,—as -in the case of something existing in potentiality—and it does not -become something that does not yet exist, nor something that changes -into something else, nor something that—itself permanent—produces -another, or emerging from itself permits another to exist in its -place—in that case we have then no mere potential but the existent, -which has eternity and not time. Should we consider matter to be there -as form, as even the soul, although a form, is matter in respect to -what is different? But, speaking generally, matter is not in actuality, -it is what exists in potentiality. Its Being only announces a Becoming, -so that its Being has always to do with future Being. That which is -in potentiality is thus not something, but everything;” energy alone -is determinate. “Matter consequently always leans towards something -else, or is a potentiality for what follows; it is left behind as -a feeble and dim image that cannot take shape. Is it then an image -in respect to reality, and therefore a deception? This is the same -as a true deception, this is the true non-existent;” it is untrue -by reason of energy. “That is therefore not existent in actuality -which has its truth in the non-existent;” it exists not in truth, for -“it has its Being in non-Being. If you take away from the false its -falseness, you take away all the existence that it has. Similarly, if -you introduce actuality into that which has its Being and its essence -in potentiality, you destroy the cause of its substance (ὑποστάσεως), -because Being consisted for it in potentiality. If we would therefore -retain matter uninjured, we must keep it as matter; apparently we must -therefore say that it is only in potentiality, in order that it may -remain what it is.”[241] - -In accordance with this, therefore, Plotinus (Ennead. III. l. 6, -c. 7, 8) defines it: “Matter is truly non-existent, a motion which -abrogates itself, absolute unrest, yet itself at rest—what is opposed -in itself; it is the great which is small, the small which is great, -the more which is less, the less which is more. When defined in one -mode, it is really rather the opposite; that is to say, when looked -at and fixed, it is not fixed and escapes, or when not fixed it is -fixed—the simply illusory.” Matter itself is therefore imperishable; -there is nothing into which it can change. The Idea of change is itself -imperishable, but what is implied in this Idea is changeable. This -matter is nevertheless not without form; and we have seen that the -finite understanding has a third relationship to its object, namely in -reference to differences. As now this relation and alteration, this -transition, is the life of the universe, the universal soul of the -same, its Being is in like manner not a change which takes place in -the understanding, for its Being is its being the immediate object of -thought through the understanding. - -γ. The Evil likewise, as contrasted with the Good, now begins to be -the object of consideration, for the question of the origin of evil -must always be a matter of interest to the human consciousness. These -Alexandrians set up as matter the negative of thought, but since the -consciousness of the concrete mind entered in, the abstract negative -is apprehended in this concrete fashion as within the mind itself, -therefore as the mentally negative. Plotinus regards this question of -evil from many sides; but thoughtful consideration of this subject does -not yet go very far. The following conceptions are those that prevail -at this time: “The Good is νοῦς, but not the understanding in the sense -it used to bear for us, which from a pre-supposition both satisfies -itself and understands what is said to it, which forms a conclusion -and from what follows draws up a theory, and from the consequence -comes to a knowledge of what is, having now obtained something not -formerly possessed; for before this its knowledge was empty, although -it was understanding. But νοῦς, as we now understand it, contains all -things in itself, is all things, and is at home with itself; it has all -things while not having them,” because it is in itself ideal. “But it -does not possess all in the sense in which we regard what we possess -as something different or alien from ourselves; what is possessed is -not distinguished from itself. For it is each thing and everything -and not confounded, but absolute. What partakes of the same does not -partake of all things at once, but partakes in so far as it can. Νοῦς -is the first energy and the first substance of the soul, which has -activity in regard thereto. The soul, externally revolving round νοῦς, -contemplating it and gazing into its depths, beholds God by means of -it; and this is the life of the gods, free from evil and filled with -blessedness”—in so far as the intelligence which goes forth from itself -has in its difference to do only with itself, and remains in its divine -unity. “If it remained thus constant there would be no evil. But there -are goods of the first and second and third rank, all surrounding the -King over all; and He is the originator of all good, and all is His, -and those of the second rank revolve round the second, and those of -the third round the third. If this is the existent and something even -higher than the existent, evil is not included in what is existent or -higher than the existent; for this is the good. Nothing remains then -but that evil, if it exists, is in the non-existent, as a form of the -non-existent—but the non-existent not as altogether non-existent, -but only as something other than the existent.” Evil is no absolute -principle independent of God, as the Manichæans held it to be. “It is -not non-existent in the same way that motion and rest are existent, but -is like an image of the existent, or non-existent in an even greater -degree; it is the sensuous universe.”[242]. Thus evil has its root in -the non-existent. - -In the eighth book of the first Ennead Plotinus says (c. 9, 3, 4, 7): -“But how is evil recognized? It is owing to thought turning away from -itself that matter arises; it exists only through the abstraction of -what is other than itself. What remains behind when we take away the -Ideas is, we say, matter; thought accordingly becomes different, the -opposite of thought, since it dares to direct itself on that which -is not within its province. Like the eye turning away from the light -in order to see the darkness which in the light it does not see—and -this is a seeing which yet is non-seeing—so thought experiences the -opposite of what it is, in order that it may see what is opposed to -itself.” This abstract other is nothing but matter, and it is also -evil; the seeing of the less measure is nothing but a non-seeing. “The -sensuous in regard to measure, or the limited, is the less measure, the -boundless, the undefined, unresting, insatiable, the utterly deficient; -such is not accidental to it, but its substance.” Its aim is always -Becoming; we cannot say that it is, but only that it is always about to -be. “The soul which makes νοῦς its aim is pure, holds off matter and -all that is indeterminate and measureless. But why then, when there is -the Good, is there also necessarily Evil? Because there must be matter -in the whole, because the whole necessarily consists of opposites. It -would not be there, if matter were not present; the nature of the world -is compounded of νοῦς and necessity. To be with the gods means to be -in thought; for they are immortal. We may also apprehend the necessity -of evil in this wise: As the Good cannot exist alone, matter is a -counterpart to the Good, necessary to its production. Or we might also -say that Evil is that which by reason of constant deterioration and -decay has sunk until it can sink no lower; but something is necessary -after the first, so that the extreme is also necessary. But that is -matter, which has no longer any element of good in it; and this is the -necessity of evil.” - -With Plotinus, as with Pythagoras, the leading of the soul to virtue -is also an important subject. Plotinus has for this reason blamed the -Gnostics frequently, especially in the ninth book of the second Ennead -(c. 15), because “they make no mention at all of virtue and the Good, -nor of how they may be reached, and the soul rendered better and purer. -For no purpose is served by saying,[243] ‘Look unto God;’ it must -also be shown how we can succeed in causing man thus to behold God. -For it may be asked, What is to prevent a man from beholding, while -at the same time he refrains from the gratification of no desire, and -allows anger to take possession of him? Virtue, which sets a final end -before itself and dwells in the soul with wisdom, manifests God; but -without true virtue God is an empty word.” The Gnostics limit truth -to the mental and intellectual; to this mere intellectuality Plotinus -declares himself distinctly opposed, and holds firmly to the essential -connection of the intelligible and the real. Plotinus honoured the -heathen gods, attributing to them a deep meaning and a profound -efficacy. He says in the same treatise (c. 16), “It is not by despising -the world and the gods in it, and all else that is beautiful, that man -attains to goodness. The wicked man holds the gods in contempt, and -it is only when he has completely reached this stage that he becomes -utterly depraved. The above-mentioned reverence of the Gnostics for the -intelligible gods (νοητοὺς θεούς) is nothing corresponding with this -(ἀσυμπαθὴς ἂν γένοιτο):” that is to say, there is no harmony between -thoughts and the real world, when one does not go beyond the object of -thought. “He who loves anything loves also all things related to the -same, therefore also the children of the father whom he loves. Every -soul is the daughter of this father. But souls in the heavenly spheres -are more intelligible, and better, and far more nearly related to the -higher Power than our souls are. For how could this world of reality -be cut off from that higher sphere? Those who despise that which is -related thereto know it only in name. How could it be pious to believe -that Divine providence (πρόνοια) does not reach to matters here below? -Why is God not also here? For how otherwise could He know what takes -place within this sphere? Therefore He is universally present, and is -in this world, in whatever way it be, so that the world participates in -Him. If He is at a distance from the world, He is at a distance also -from us, and you could say nothing of Him or of what He produces. This -world also partakes of Him, and is not forsaken by Him, and never will -be so. For the whole partakes of the divine much more than the part -does, and the world-soul shares in it to a still greater degree. The -Being and the rationality of the world are a proof of this.” - -In this we have the main ideas on which the intellectualism of Plotinus -is based, the general conceptions to which everything particular is -led back; the instances in which this is done are often, however, -figurative. What, in the first place, is lacking in them, as we have -already remarked, is the Notion. Severance, emanation, effluence -or process, emergence, occurrence, are words which in modern times -have also had to stand for much, but in fact nothing is expressed -by them. Scepticism and dogmatism, as consciousness or knowledge, -establish the opposition of subjectivity and objectivity. Plotinus -has rejected it, has soared upwards into the highest region, into -the Aristotelian thought of Thought; he has much more in common with -Aristotle than with Plato, and thereby he is not dialectic, nor does -he proceed out of himself, nor as consciousness does he go back out -of himself into himself again. With this, in the second place, there -is connected the fact that the further descent either to nature or -to manifested consciousness, even when expressed as the operation of -the higher soul, yet contains much that is arbitrary, and is devoid -of the necessity of the Notion; for that which ought to be defined -in Notions is expressed in many-coloured pictures, in the form of -a reality; and this, to say the least, is a useless and inadequate -expression. I quote one example only: our soul belongs not only to -the sphere of the finite understanding, where it was perfect, happy, -lacking nothing; its power of thought alone belongs to the first, the -finite understanding. Its power of motion, or itself looked on as life, -had as its source the intelligent world-soul, but sensation had its -source in the soul of the world of sensation. That is to say, Plotinus -makes the first world-soul to be the immediate activity of the finite -understanding, which is an object to itself; it is pure soul above the -sublunar region, and dwells in the upper heaven of the fixed stars. -This world-soul has power to originate; from it again there flows an -entirely sensuous soul. The desire of the individual and particular -soul separated from the whole gives it a body; this it receives in -the higher region of the heavens. With this body it obtains fancy and -memory. At last it repairs to the soul of the sensible world; and from -this it acquires sensation, desires, and the life that is vegetative in -nature.[244] - -This declension, this further step towards the corporeality of the -soul, is described by the followers of Plotinus as if the soul sank -from the Milky Way and the Zodiac into the orbits of planets which -have their place lower down, and in each of these it receives new -powers, and in each begins also to exercise these powers. In Saturn -the soul first acquires the power of forming conclusions with regard -to things; in Jupiter it receives the power of effectiveness of the -will; in Mars, affections and impulses; in the Sun, sensation, opinion, -and imagination; in Venus, sensuous desires aiming at the particular; -in the Moon, lastly, the power of production.[245] In such a way as -this Plotinus makes into a particular existence for the spiritual the -very things that he declares to be, on the one hand, intelligible -moments. The soul which only has desires is the beast; that which only -vegetates, which has only power of reproduction, is the plant. But -what we spoke of above are not particular conditions of mind, outside -of the universal spirit, in the world-spirit’s particular stages -of its self-consciousness regarding itself; and Saturn and Jupiter -have nothing further to do with it. When they in their potency are -expressed as moments of the soul, this is not a whit better than when -each of them was supposed to express a particular metal. As Saturn -expresses lead, Jupiter tin, and so forth, so Saturn also expresses -argumentation, Jupiter will, &c. It is doubtless easier to say that -Saturn corresponds with lead, &c., that it is the power of drawing -conclusions, or that it represents lead and the power of drawing -conclusions, or anything else you like, instead of expressing its -Notion, its essence. The above is a comparison with a thing that in -like manner does not express a Notion, but is apparent to the senses, -which is laid hold of out of the air, or rather indeed from the ground. -Such representations are warped and false; for if we say that this is -lead, we mean thereby the essence or the implicitness of lead, with -which the soul has an affinity; but this is no longer the sensuous -Being which is known as lead, nor has this moment of such a state any -reality for the soul. - - -3. PORPHYRY AND IAMBLICHUS. - -Porphyry and Iamblichus, who have already been mentioned as the -biographers of Pythagoras (Vol. I. p. 197), are distinguished followers -of Plotinus. The first, a Syrian, died in 304: the latter, likewise -of Syria, in the year 333.[246] Amongst other works by Porphyrius, -we possess an “Introduction to the Organon of Aristotle on Genera, -Species, and Judgments,” in which his logic is propounded in its -principal elements. This work is one which has at all times been the -text-book of Aristotelian Logic, and also an authority from which the -knowledge of its form has been derived; and our ordinary books of logic -contain little more than what is found in this Introduction. The fact -that Porphyry devoted himself to logic shows that a determinate form -of thought was coming into favour with the Neo-Platonists; but this is -something pertaining altogether to the understanding and very formal. -Thus we here have the characteristic fact that with the Neo-Platonists -the logic of the understanding, the quite empiric treatment of the -sciences, is found in conjunction with the entirely speculative -Idea, and in respect of practical life with a belief in theurgy, the -marvellous and strange: in his life of Plotinus, Porphyry, indeed, -describes him a miracle-worker, which statement we, however, must set -aside as appertaining to literature. - -Iamblichus evinces more mistiness and confusion still; he certainly -was a teacher highly esteemed in his time, so that he even received -the name of divine instructor; but his philosophic writings -form a compilation without much specially to characterize them, -and his biography of Pythagoras does not do much credit to his -understanding. It was likewise in the Pythagorean philosophy that the -Neo-Platonists gloried, and more particularly they revived the form of -number-determination which pertains to it. In Iamblichus thought sinks -into imagination, the intellectual universe to a kingdom of demons -and angels with a classification of the same, and speculation comes -down to the methods of magic. The Neo-Platonists called this theurgy -(θεουργία); for in the miracle speculation, the divine Idea, is, so to -speak, brought into immediate contact with actuality, and not set forth -in a universal way. As to the work _De mysteriis Ægyptiorum_, it is not -known for certain whether it had Iamblichus as its author or not; later -on Proclus makes great ado concerning him, and testifies that he was -indebted to Iamblichus for his main ideas.[247] - - -4. PROCLUS. - -Proclus, a later Neo-Platonist who has still to be mentioned, is more -important. He was born in 412 at Constantinople, but carried on his -studies and spent most of his life with Plutarchus in Athens, where he -also died in 485. His life is written by Marinus, in a style similar -to that of the biographies just mentioned. According to this his -parents came from Xanthus in Lycia, a district of Asia Minor; and since -Apollo and Minerva were the tutelary deities of this town, he rendered -grateful worship to them. They, themselves, vouchsafed to him, as their -favourite, particular regard and personal manifestations; indeed, he -was healed of an illness by Apollo touching his head; by Minerva, -however, he was called upon to go to Athens. First of all he went to -Alexandria to study rhetoric and philosophy, and then to Athens, to be -with Plutarchus and Syrianus, the Platonists. Here he first studied -Aristotelian and then Platonic philosophy. Above all the daughter of -Plutarchus, Asclepigenia, initiated him into the profound secrets of -philosophy; she, as Marinus assures us, was the only individual at that -time who retained the knowledge, transmitted to her by her father, of -the mystic ceremonies and of the whole theurgic discipline. Proclus -studied everything pertaining to the mysteries, the Orphic hymns, the -writings of Hermes, and religious institutions of every kind, so that, -wherever he went, he understood the ceremonies of the pagan worship -better than the priests who were placed there for the purpose of -performing them. Proclus is said to have had himself initiated into -all the pagan mysteries. He himself kept all the religious festivals -and observances pertaining to nations the most various; he was even -familiar with the Egyptian form of worship, observed the Egyptian days -of purification and festivals, and spent certain fast days in offering -up prayers and praise. Proclus himself composed many hymns—of which we -still possess some that are very beautiful—both in honour of the better -known divinities and of those whose fame is entirely local. Of the -circumstance that he—“the most God-fearing man”—had dealings with so -many religions, he himself says: “It is not fitting for a philosopher -to be minister (θεραπευτήν) to the worship of one town or of what -pertains to the few, for he should be the universal hierophant of the -whole world.” He considered Orpheus to be the originator of all Greek -theology, and set a specially high value on the Orphic and Chaldaic -oracles. It was in Athens that he taught. Of course his biographer, -Marinus, relates the most marvellous things about him, that he brought -down rain from heaven and tempered great heat, that he stilled the -earthquake, healed diseases, and beheld visions of the divine.[248] - -Proclus led a most intellectual life; he was a profoundly speculative -man, and the scope of his knowledge was very great. In his case, as -also in that of Plotinus, the contrast between the insight of such -philosophers and what their disciples relate of them in biographies, -must strike one very forcibly, for of the wonders described by the -biographers few traces are to be found in the works of the subjects -themselves. Proclus left behind him a great number of writings, many of -which we now possess; he was the author of several mathematical works -which we also have, such as that on the Sphere. His more important -philosophic works are the Commentaries on Plato’s Dialogues, certain -of which have been published from time to time; that on the Timæus was -the most famous. But several were only found in manuscript, and of -these Cousin issued in Paris the Commentaries on the Alcibiades (Vols. -II. III.), and the Parmenides (Vols. IV.-VI.) for the first time. The -first volume of Cousin’s edition contains some writings by Proclus -which now exist only in Latin, on Freedom, Providence, and Evil. Works -separately published are his important writings, The Platonic Theology -(εἰς τὲν Πλάτωνος θεολογίαν) and his Theological Elements (συοιχείωσις -θεολογική); the latter short work Creuzer has had re-published, as also -some of the before-mentioned Commentaries. - -Proclus lived, so to speak, in the worship of science. We cannot fail -to see in him great profundity of perception, and greater capacity for -working a matter out and clearness of expression than are found in -Plotinus; scientific development also advanced with him, and on the -whole he possesses an excellent manner of expression. His philosophy, -like that of Plotinus, has the form of a Commentary on Plato; his book -“On the Theology of Plato,” is in this respect his most interesting -work. The main ideas of his philosophy may easily be recognized from -this work, which possesses many difficulties for this reason in -particular, that in it the pagan gods are considered, and philosophic -significations derived from them. But he distinguishes himself entirely -from Plotinus by the fact that with him the Neo-Platonic philosophy, as -a whole, has at least reached a more systematic order, and also a more -developed form; thus in his Platonic theology especially (dialectic as -the work undoubtedly is) a more distinct progression and distinction -between the spheres in the Idea is to be found, than is noticeable in -Plotinus. His philosophy is an intellectual system; we must see how -we can work it out. His way of putting it is not perfectly clear, but -leaves much to be desired. - -Proclus differs first of all from Plotinus in not making Being his -principle or purely abstract moment, but by beginning from unity, -and for the first time understanding Being or subsistence as the -third; thus to him everything has a much more concrete form. But the -self-development of this unity is not made the necessity of the Notion -with Proclus any more than with Plotinus; we must once for all give up -seeking here for the Notion of disunion. Proclus (Theol. Plat. II. p. -95) says, “The one is in itself inexpressible and unknowable; but it is -comprehended from its issuing forth and retiring into itself.” Proclus -in the same place (pp. 107, 108) defines this self-differentiation, the -first characteristic of unity, as a production (παράγειν), a going -forth (πρόοδος), and also as a representation or demonstration. The -relation to difference of the unity which brings forth is, however, not -an issuing forth from self, for an issuing forth would be a change, -and unity would be posited as no more self-identical. Hence through -its bringing forth unity suffers no loss or diminution, for it is -the thought that suffers no deterioration through the creation of a -determinate thought, but remains the same, and also receives what is -brought forth into itself.[249] As far as this goes, the Notion is, -properly speaking, no clearer than with Plotinus. - -What distinguishes Plotinus is his more profound study of the Platonic -dialectic; in this way he occupies himself in his Platonic theology -with the most acute and far-reaching dialectic of the One. It is -necessary for him to demonstrate the many as one and the one as many, -to show forth the forms which the One adopts. But it is a dialectic -which to a greater or less extent is externally worked out, and which -is most wearisome. But while with Plato these pure notions of unity, -multiplicity, Being, &c., appear naturally, and so to speak devoid of -other significance than that which they immediately possess (for we -designate them as universal ideas which are present in our thought), -with Proclus they have another and higher meaning; and hence it comes -to pass that, as we have seen (pp. 59, 60), he found in the apparently -negative result of the Platonic Parmenides the nature of absolute -existence particularly and expressly recognized. Proclus now shows, -according to the Platonic dialectic, how all determinations, and -particularly that of multiplicity, are resolved into themselves and -return into unity. What to the conceiving consciousness is one of its -most important truths—that many substances exist, or that the many -things, each of which is termed a one, and hence substance, exist in -truth in themselves—is lost in this dialectic, and the result ensues -that only unity is true existence, all other determinations are merely -vanishing magnitudes, merely moments, and thus their Being is only -an immediate thought. But since we now ascribe no substantiality, -no proper Being to a thought, all such determinations are only -moments of a thing in thought. The objection at this point made and -constantly maintained against the Neo-Platonists and Proclus is this, -that certainly for thought everything goes back within unity, but -that this is a logical unity alone, a unity of thought and not of -actuality, and that consequently there can be no arguing from the -formal to actuality. From this they say it by no means follows that all -actual things are not actual substances, that they have not different -principles independent of one another, and even that they are not -different substances, each of which is separated from the other and in -and for itself. That is to say, this contradiction always begins the -whole matter over again when it says of actuality that it is something -implicit, for those who do this call actuality a thing, a substance, a -one—which last are merely thoughts; in short they always again bring -forward, as something implicitly existent, that whose disappearance or -non-implicitude has been already demonstrated. - -But in this regard Proclus displays great sagacity in a remark he -makes on the manner in which this mode of production appears in the -Parmenides of Plato, who shows in a negative way in this Dialogue that -if the existence of unity is affirmed, the existence of multiplicity, -&c., must be denied. Respecting these negations (ἀποφάσεις) Proclus -now says (Theol. Plat. II. pp. 108, 109) that they do not signify an -abrogation of the content (στερητικαὶ τῶν ὑποκειμένων) of which they -are predicated, but are the creation of determinatives in accordance -with their opposites (γεννητικαὶ τῶν οἷον ἀντικειμένων). “Thus if -Plato shows that the first is not many, this has the significance that -the many proceed from the first; if he shows that it is not a whole, -it proves that the fact of being a whole proceeds from it. The mode -(τρόπος) of negations is thus to be taken as perfection which remains -in unity, issues forth from everything, and is in an inexpressible -and ineffable preponderance of simplicity. On the other hand, God -must likewise be derived from these negations; else there would be -no Notion (λόγος) of them, and also no negation. The Notion of the -inexpressible revolves round itself, never resting, and it strives with -itself;” _i.e._ the one implies its determinations ideally, the whole -is contained in the one. Multiplicity is not taken empirically and then -merely abrogated; the negative, as dividing, producing, and active, not -merely contains what is privative, but also affirmative determinations. -In this way the Platonic dialectic wins for Proclus a positive -significance; through dialectic he would lead all differences back to -unity. With this dialectic of the one and many Proclus makes much ado, -more especially in his famous elementary doctrines. The submersion of -everything in unity remains, however, merely beyond this unity, instead -of which this very negativity must really be grasped as signifying its -production. - -That which brings forth, according to Proclus, furthermore brings forth -through a superfluity of power. There certainly also is a bringing -forth through want; all need, all desire, for example, becomes cause -through want; and its bringing forth is its satisfaction. The end here -is incomplete, and the energy arises from the endeavour to complete -itself, so that only in production the need becomes less, the desire -ceases to be such, or its abstract Being-for-self disappears. Unity, -on the other hand, goes forth out of itself through the superfluity -of potentiality, and this superabundant potentiality is actuality -generally: this reflection of Proclus is quite Aristotelian. Hence -the coming forth of the unity consists in the fact that it multiplies -itself, pure number comes forth; but this multiplication does not -negate or diminish that first unity, but rather takes place in the -method of unity (ἑνιαίως). The many partakes of the unity, but the -unity does not partake of multiplicity.[250] The absolute unity -which multiplies itself into many ones has consequently generated -multiplicity as it is in these ones. Proclus makes use of a many-sided -dialectic to show that the many does not exist in itself, is not the -creator of the many, that everything goes back into unity, and thus -unity is also the originator of the many. It is, however, not made -clear how this is the negative relation of the one to itself; what we -see is then a manifold dialectic, which merely passes backwards and -forwards over the relationship of the one to the many. - -To Proclus an important characteristic of this progression is the fact -that it takes place through analogy, and what is dissimilar to the -truth is the further removed from the same. The many partakes of unity, -but it is in a measure likewise not one, but dissimilar to one. But -since the many is also similar to what produces it, it likewise has -unity as its essence; hence the many are independent unities (ἑνάδες). -They contain the principle of unity within themselves, for if as being -many they are likewise different, they are, so to speak, only many -for a third, being in and for themselves unities. These unities again -beget others which must, however, be less perfect, for the effect -is not exactly like the cause, that which is brought forth is not -quite similar to what brings it forth. These next unities are wholes, -_i.e._, they are no longer real unities, unities in themselves, since -in them the unity is only an accident. But because things themselves -are in their synthetic nature merely wholes because their souls bind -them together, they are dissimilar to the first unity, and cannot be -immediately united to it. The abstractly conceived multiplicity is -thus their mean; multiplicity is analogous to absolute unity, and is -that which unites unity with the whole universe. Pure multiplicity -makes the different elements like one another, and hence unites them to -unity; but things only have similarity to unity. Thus things that are -begotten ever remove themselves more and more from unity, and partake -of it less and less.[251] - -The further determination of the Idea is known as the trinity (τριάς). -Of this Proclus (Theol. Plat. III. p. 140) first of all gives the -abstract definition that its three forms are three gods, and now we -have more especially to find out how he defined the trinity. This -trinity is certainly interesting in the Neo-Platonists, but it is -specially so in the case of Proclus, because he did not leave it in -its abstract moments. For he again considers these three abstract -determinations of the absolute, each on its own account, as a totality -of triunity, whereby he obtains one real trinity. Thus in the whole -there are three spheres, separated from one another, which constitute -the totality, but in such a way that each has again to be considered -as complete and concrete in itself; and this must be acknowledged as a -perfectly correct point of view which has been reached. Because each -of these differences in the Idea, as remaining in unity with itself, -is really again the whole of these moments, there are different orders -in production; and the whole is the process of the three totalities -establishing themselves in one another as identical. It will be shown -directly which orders these are, and Proclus occupies himself much with -these, because he tries to demonstrate the different powers again in -them. Proclus is hence much more detailed, and he went much further -than did Plotinus; it may indeed be said that in this respect we find -in him the most excellent and best that was formulated by any of the -Neo-Platonists. - -As regards the further details of his trinity there are, according to -his account, three abstract moments present in it, which are worked -out in his Platonic theology—the one, the infinite and the limitation; -the last two we have likewise seen in Plato (p. 68). The first, God, -is just the absolute unity already frequently discussed, which by -itself is unknowable and undisclosed, because it is a mere abstraction; -it can only be known that it is an abstraction, since it is not yet -activity. This unity is the super-substantial (ὑπερούσιον), and in -the second place its first production is the many ones (ἑνάδες) of -things, pure numbers. In these we have the thinking principles of -things, through which they partake of absolute unity; but each partakes -of it only through a single individual unity, through the one, while -souls do so through thought-out, universal unities. To this Proclus -refers the forms of ancient mythology. That is to say, as he calls -that first unity God, he calls these numerous unities of thought that -flow from it, gods, but the following moments are likewise so called. -He says, (Institut. theol. c. 162): “The gods are named in accordance -with what depends upon the orders (τάξεων); hence it is possible to -know from this their unknowable substances, which constitute their -determinate nature. For everything divine is inexpressible on its own -account and unknowable as forming part of the inexpressible one; but -from differentiation, from change, it comes to pass that we know its -characteristics. Thus there are gods capable of being known, which -radiate true Being; hence true Being is the knowable divine, and the -incommunicable is made manifest for the νοῦς.” But there always remains -a compulsion to represent mythology in the determinateness of the -Notion. These gods or unities do not correspond to the order of things -in such a way that there are just as many and such unities (ἑνάδες) or -gods as there are things; for these unities only unite things with the -absolute unity. The third is just the limit which holds these unities -(ἑνάδες) together, and constitutes their unity with the absolute -unity; the limit asserts the unity of the many and the one.[252] - -This is better expressed by what follows, in which Proclus takes up -the three fundamental principles—the limit, the infinite and what -is mingled—of Plato’s Philebus, because the opposition is thus more -clearly determined; and therefore these appear to be the original gods. -But to such abstractions the name gods is not applicable, for it is -as returning that we first of all see them as divine. Proclus says -(Theol. Plat. III. pp. 133-134): “From that first limit (πέρας),” the -absolute one, “things have (ἐξέρτηται) union, entirety and community,” -the principle of individuality, “and divine measure. All separation -and fertility and what makes for multiplicity, on the contrary, rest -on the first infinitude (ἄπειρον);” the infinite is thus quantity, the -indeterminate, just as Plato in the Philebus calls the infinite the -evil, and pleasure the untrue, because no reason is present in it (pp. -68, 69). “Hence when we speak of the process of anything divine, it is -implied that in the individuals it remains steadfastly one, and only -progresses towards infinitude,” continuity as self-production, “and -has at the same time the one and multiplicity present in it—the former -from the principle of limitation, and the latter from the principle -of infinitude. In all opposition which is found in species that are -divine, what is more excellent belongs to limitation, and what is -less excellent to the infinite. From these two principles everything -derives its progress until it steps forth into Being. Thus the eternal, -in so far as it is measure as intellectual, partakes of limitation, -but in so far as it is the cause of unceasing effort after Being, of -infinitude. Thus the understanding in so far as it has the standard -(ραραδειγματικὰ μέτρα) within it, is a product of limitation; in so -far as it eternally produces everything, it has undiminished capacity -for infinitude.” Multiplicity as Notion, not as the many, is itself -unity; it is duality, or the determinateness which stands over against -indeterminateness. Now according to Proclus (Theol. Plat. III. p. 137) -the third is a whole, the unity of determinate and indeterminate, -or that which is mingled (μικτόν). “This is first of all everything -existent, a monad of many possibilities, a completed reality, a many -in one (ἓν πολλά).” The expression “mingled” is not very suitable, is -indeed faulty, because mixture at first expresses only an external -union, while here the concrete, the unity of opposites, and even more -the subjective, is properly speaking indicated. - -Now if we consider further the nature of what is mingled we find the -three triads likewise, for each of those three abstract principles is -itself a similar complete triad, but under one or these particular -forms. Proclus says (Theol. Plat. III. p. 135); “The first Being (τὸ -πρώτως ὄν) is the mingled, the unity of the triad with itself; it -is the Being of the life as well as of the understanding. The first -of what is mingled is the first of all existence, the life and the -spirit are the two other orders; everything is consequently in triads. -These three triads determine themselves thus as absolute Being, life -and spirit; and they are spiritual and to be grasped in thought.” -According to this only the intelligible world is true for Proclus. But -that Proclus did not make the understanding proceed immediately from -the unity, is the second point in which he differs from Plotinus; in -this Proclus is more logical, and he follows Plato more closely. His -sequence is excellent, and he is right in placing the understanding, -as the richer, last, since it is not until after the development of -the moments which are present in life that the understanding springs -forth, and from it in turn the soul.[253] Proclus says (Theol. Plat. -I. pp. 21, 22, 28) that certainly in the first unity all agree, but -that Plotinus makes the thinking nature appear just after the unity; -yet the instructor of Proclus, who led him into all divine truth, -limited better this indefinite way of looking at things adopted by -the ancients, and differentiated this disorderly confusion of various -orders into a comprehensible plan, and succeeded in satisfactorily -following and maintaining the distinction of determinations. As a -matter of fact we find more distinction and clearness in Proclus than -in the turbidity of Plotinus; he is quite correct in recognizing the -νοῦς as the third, for it is, that which turns back. - -Regarding the relationship of the three orders Proclus now expresses -himself in the passage already quoted (Theol. Plat. III. pp. 135-136) -thus: “These three are themselves really contained in the existent, for -in it is substance, life, the νοῦς and[254] what is the culminating -point of all existence (ἀκρότης τῶν ὄντων),” the individuality of -the self, the existent on its own account, the subjective, the point -of negative unity. “The life that is grasped by thought is the very -centre-point of existence. But the understanding is the limit of the -existent, and it is thought as known (ὁ νοητὸς νοῦς), for in what is -thought is thinking, and in thinking what is thought. But in what -is thought thinking is in the mode of thought (νοητῶς), in thinking -what is thought is in the mode of thinking (νοερῶς). Substance is the -enduring element in existence and that which is interwoven with the -first principles and which does not proceed from the one.” The second, -“the life, is however that which proceeds from the principles and -is born with infinite capacity;” it is itself the whole totality in -the determination of infinitude, so that it is a concrete manifold. -“The understanding is, again, the limit which leads back once more -to the principles, brings about conformity with the principle, and -accomplishes an intellectual circle. Now since it is a three-fold in -itself, in part it is the substantial in itself, in part the living, -in part the intellectual, but everything is substantially contained in -it, and hence it is the foremost in existence, that which is united -from the first principles.” That is the first reality. Excellent! “I -call it substance, since the first substance (αὐτοουσία) is supreme -over all existence and is, so to speak, the monad of everything. -The understanding itself is that which knows, but life is thinking, -and Being is just what is thought. Now if the whole of what exists -is mingled, but the first existence (τὸ αὐτοόν) is substance, the -substance that comes from the three principles (ὑφισταμένε) is -mingled. What is mingled is thus substance as thought; it is from -God, from whom also come the infinite and limitation. There are thus -four moments, since what is mingled is the fourth.” The first is the -monad, the absolute one, then come the many which themselves are units, -the infinite of Plato; the third is limitation. The one is clearly -all-penetrating, remaining at home with itself, all-embracing; it -does not thus appear as one of the three moments, for Proclus adds a -fourth which then likewise appears as the third moment, since it is the -totality. “This united one is not only derived from those principles -which are according to the one, but it also goes forth from them and is -three-fold.” It is one trinity and three trinities. The limit and the -infinite are, according to Proclus (Theol. Plat. III. pp. 138, 139), -before substance and again in it; and this unity of moments is what -comes first in all existence (πρωτίστη οὐσία). In the abstract trinity -everything is thus contained in itself. Proclus says (Theol. Plat. III. -pp. 139, 140): “The truly existent has the trinity of Beauty, Truth, -and Symmetry in itself” (this is the way in which, like Plato, he names -these three triads), “Beauty for order, Truth for purity, and Symmetry -for the unity of what is joined together. Symmetry gives the cause that -the existent is unity; Truth, that it is Being; Beauty, that it is -thought.” Proclus shows that in each of the three triads, limit, the -unlimited, and that which is mingled, are contained; each order is -thus the same, but set forth in one of the three forms which constitute -the first triad. - -_a._ Proclus says (Theol. Plat. III. p. 140): “Now this is the first -triad of all that is thought—the limit, the infinite, and that which -is mingled. The limit is God going forth to the culminating point -of thought from the uncommunicable and first God, measuring and -determining everything, admitting all that is paternal and coherent, -and the unblemished race of gods. But the infinite” (quantity) “is -the inexhaustible potentiality of this God, that which makes all -productions and orders to appear, and the whole infinitude, the -primeval essence as well as the substantial, and even the ultimate -matter. What is mingled is, however, the first and highest order -(διάκοσμος) of the gods, and it is that which holds everything -concealed in itself, completed in accordance with the intelligible -and all-embracing triad, comprehending in simple form the cause of -all that exists, and establishing in the first objects of thought the -culminating point which is derived from the wholes.” The first order is -thus in its culminating point the abstract substance in which the three -determinations as such are shut up without development and maintained -in strict isolation; this pure reality is in so far the undisclosed. -It is the greatest height reached by thought and likewise really the -turning back, as this likewise appears in Plotinus; and this first -begets in its culminating point the second order which in the whole is -life, and culminates in its turn in the νοῦς. - -_b._ This second triad is placed in the determination of the infinite. -On making this step forward Proclus (Theol. Plat. III. pp. 141, 142) -breaks into a transport of bacchanalian ecstasy, and says, “After this -first triad which remains in unity, let us now in hymns praise the -second which proceeds from this, and is brought to pass through the -abolition of that which comes before it. As the first unity begets the -culminating point of existence, the middle unity begets the middle -existence; for it is likewise begetting and self-retaining.” In the -second order three moments again appear as before: “Here the principle -or the first is the substance which was the completion of the first -triad; the second, which was there the infinite, is here potentiality -(δύναμις). The unity of both these is Life (ζωή),” the centre, or -what gives determinateness to the whole order; “the second existence -is life as thought, for in the most external thought Ideas have their -subsistence (ὑπόστασιν). The second order is a triad analogous to the -first, for the second is likewise a God.” The relationship of these -trinities is hence this: “As the first triad is everything, but is so -intellectually (νοητῶς) and as proceeding immediately from the one -(ἑνκαίως), and remaining within limits (περατοειδῶς), so the second -is likewise everything, but in living fashion and in the principle -of infinitude (ζωτικῶς καὶ ἀπειροειδῶς), and similarly the third has -proceeded after the manner of what is mingled. Limitation determines -the first trinity, the unlimited the second, the concrete (μικτόν) the -third. Each determination of unity, the one placed beside the other, -also explains the intelligible order of gods; each contains all three -moments subordinate to itself, and each is this trinity set forth under -one of these moments.” These three orders are the highest gods; later -on, we find in Proclus (in Timæum, pp. 291, 299) four orders of gods -appearing. - -_c._ Proclus comes (Theol. Plat. III. p. 143) to the third triad, -which is thought itself as such, the νούς: “The third monad places -round itself the νούς as thought, and fills it with divine unity; it -places the middle between itself and absolute existence, fills this -last by means of the middle and turns it to itself. This third triad -does not resemble cause (κατ̓ αἰτίαν), like the first existence, -nor does it reveal the all like the second; but it is all as act -and expression (ἐκφανῶς); hence it is also the limit of all that is -thought. The first triad remains concealed in limit itself, and has -all subsistence of intellectuality fixed in it. The second is likewise -enduring, and at the same time steps forward;” the living appears, but -is in so doing led back to unity. “The third after progression shifts -and turns the intelligible limit back to the beginning, and bends the -order back into itself; for the understanding is the turning back to -what is thought” (to unity), “and the giving of conformity with it. -And all this is one thought, one Idea: persistence, progression and -return.” Each is a totality on its own account, but all three are led -back into one. In the νοῦς the first two triads are themselves only -moments; for spirit is just the grasping in itself of the totality of -the first two spheres. “Now these three trinities announce in mystic -form the entirely unknown (ἄγνωστον) cause of the first and unimparted -(ἀμεθεκτοῦ) God,” who is the principle of the first unity, but is -manifested in the three: “the one has inexpressible unity, the second -the superfluity of all powers, but the third the perfect birth of -all existence.” In this the mystic element is that these differences -which are determined as totalities, as gods, become comprehended as -one. The expression “mystic” often appears with the Neo-Platonists. -Thus Proclus for example says (Theol. Plat. III. p. 131): “Let us once -more obtain initiation into the mysteries (μυσταγωγίαν) of the one.” -Mysticism is just this speculative consideration of Philosophy, this -Being in thought, this self-satisfaction and this sensuous perception. -However, μυστήριον has not to the Alexandrians the meaning that it -has to us, for to them it indicates speculative philosophy generally. -The mysteries in Christianity have likewise been to the understanding -an incomprehensible secret, but because they are speculative, reason -comprehends them, and they are not really secret, for they have been -revealed. - -In conclusion, Proclus institutes a comparison between these triads. -“In the first order the concrete is itself substance, in the second it -is life, and in the third the thought that is known.” Proclus calls -substance likewise Ἑστία, the fixed, the principle. “The first trinity -is the God of thought (θεὸς νοητός); the second the thought of and -thinking (θεὸς νοητὸς καὶ νοερός)” the active; “the third the” pure, -“thinking God (θεὸς νοερός),” who is in himself this return to unity -in which, as return, all three are contained; for “God is the whole -in them.” These three are thus clearly the absolute one, and this -then constitutes one absolute concrete God. “God knows the divided as -undivided, what pertains to time as timeless, what is not necessary as -necessary, the changeable as unchangeable, and, speaking generally, all -things more excellently than in accordance with their order. Whose are -the thoughts, his also are the substances, because the thought of every -man is identical with the existence of every man, and each is both the -thought and the existence,” and so on.[255] - -These are the principal points in the theology of Proclus, and it -only remains to us to give some external facts. The individuality of -consciousness is partially in the form of an actuality, as magic and -theurgy; this often appears among the Neo-Platonists and with Proclus, -and is called making a god. The element of theurgy is thus brought into -relation with the heathen divinities: “The first and chief names of -the gods, one must admit, are founded in the gods themselves. Divine -thought makes names of its thoughts, and finally shows the images of -the gods; each name gives rise, so to speak, to an image of a god. -Now as theurgy through certain symbols calls forth the unenvying -goodness of God to the light of the images of the artist, the science -of thought makes the hidden reality of God appear through the uniting -and separating of the tones.”[256] Thus the statues and pictures of -artists show the inward speculative thought, the being replete with the -divinity that brings itself into externality; thus the consecration -of images is likewise represented. This connecting fact—that the -Neo-Platonists have even inspired the mythical element with the -divine—is thereby expressed, so that in images, &c., the divine power -is present. Nevertheless I have only wished to call this moment to mind -because it plays a great part at this particular time. - - -5. THE SUCCESSORS OF PROCLUS. - -In Proclus we have the culminating point of the Neo-Platonic -philosophy; this method in philosophy is carried into later times, -continuing even through the whole of the Middle Ages. Proclus had -several successors who were scholarchs at Athens—Marinus, his -biographer, and then Isidorus of Gaza, and finally Damascius. Of the -latter we still possess some very interesting writings; he was the last -teacher of the Neo-Platonic philosophy in the Academy. For in 529 A.D. -the Emperor Justinian caused this school to be closed, and drove all -heathen philosophers from his kingdom: amongst these was Simplicius, a -celebrated commentator on Aristotle, several of whose commentaries are -not yet printed. They sought and found protection and freedom in Persia -under Chosroïs. After some time they ventured to return to the Roman -Empire, but they could no longer form any school at Athens; thus as far -as its external existence is concerned, the heathen philosophy went -utterly to ruin.[257] Eunapius treats of this last period, and Cousin -has dealt with it in a short treatise. Although the Neo-Platonic school -ceased to exist outwardly, ideas of the Neo-Platonists, and specially -the philosophy of Proclus, were long maintained and preserved in the -Church; and later on we shall on several occasions refer to it. In the -earlier, purer, mystical scholastics we find the same ideas as are seen -in Proclus, and until comparatively recent times, when in the Catholic -Church God is spoken of in a profound and mystical way, the ideas -expressed are Neo-Platonic. - -In the examples given by us perhaps the best of the Neo-Platonic -philosophy is found; in it the world of thought has, so to speak, -consolidated itself, not as though the Neo-Platonists had possessed -this world of thought alongside of a sensuous world, for the sensuous -world has disappeared and the whole been raised into spirit, and this -whole has been called God and His life in it. Here we witness a great -revolution, and with this the first period, that of Greek philosophy, -closes. The Greek principle is freedom as beauty, reconciliation in -imagination, natural free reconciliation that is immediately realized, -and thus represents an Idea in sensuous guise. Through philosophy -thought, however, desires to tear itself away from what is sensuous, -for philosophy is the constitution of thought into a totality beyond -the sensuous and the imaginary. Herein is this simple progression -contained, and the points of view which we have noticed are, as -cursorily surveyed, the following. - -First of all we saw the abstract in natural form: then abstract thought -in its immediacy, and thus the one, Being. These are pure thoughts, -but thought is not yet comprehended as thought; for us these thoughts -are merely universal thoughts to which the consciousness of thought is -still lacking. Socrates is the second stage, in which thought appears -as self, the absolute is the thought of itself; the content is not -only determined, _e.g._ Being, the atom, but is concrete thought, -determined in itself and subjective. The self is the most simple form -of the concrete, but it is still devoid of content; in as far as it -is determined it is concrete, like the Platonic Idea. This content, -however, is only implicitly concrete and is not yet known as such; -Plato, beginning with what is given, takes the more determinate content -out of sensuous perception. Aristotle attains to the highest idea; the -thought about thought takes the highest place of all; but the content -of the world is still outside of it. Now in as far as this manifold -concrete is led back to the self as to the ultimate simple unity of the -concrete, or, on the other hand, the abstract principle has content -given to it, we saw the systems of dogmatism arising. That thought -of thought is in Stoicism the principle of the whole world, and it -has made the attempt to comprehend the world as thought. Scepticism, -on the other hand, denies all content, for it is self-consciousness, -thought, in its pure solitude with itself, and likewise reflection on -that beginning of pre-suppositions. In the third place the absolute is -known as concrete, and this is as far as Greek philosophy goes. That -is to say, while in the system of Stoics the relation of difference -to unity is present only as an “ought,” as an inward demand, without -the identity coming to pass, in the Neo-Platonist school the absolute -is finally set forth in its entirely concrete determination, the -Idea consequently as a trinity, as a trinity of trinities, so that -these ever continue to emanate more and more. But each sphere is a -trinity in itself, so that each of the abstract moments of this triad -is itself likewise grasped as a totality. Only that which manifests -itself, and therein retains itself as the one, is held to be true. The -Alexandrians thus represent the concrete totality in itself, and they -have recognized the nature of spirit; they have, however, neither gone -forth from the depths of infinite subjectivity and its absolute chasm, -nor have they grasped the absolute, or, if we will, abstract freedom of -the “I” as the infinite value of the subject. - -The Neo-Platonic standpoint is thus not a philosophic freak, but a -forward advance on the part of the human mind, the world and the -world-spirit. The revelation of God has not come to it as from an -alien source. What we here consider so dry and abstract is concrete. -“Such rubbish,” it is said, “as we consider when in our study we see -philosophers dispute and argue, and settle things this way and that at -will, are verbal abstractions only.” No, no; they are the deeds of the -world-spirit, gentlemen, and therefore of fate. The philosophers are -in so doing nearer to God than those nurtured upon spiritual crumbs; -they read or write the orders as they receive them in the original; -they are obliged to continue writing on. Philosophers are the initiated -ones—those who have taken part in the advance which has been made into -the inmost sanctuary; others have their particular interests—this -dominion, these riches, this girl. Hundreds and thousands of years are -required by the world-spirit to reach the point which we attain more -quickly, because we have the advantage of having objects which are past -and of dealing with abstraction. - - - - - FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Diog. Laërt. III. 1-4 (Tennemann, Vol. I. p. 416; II. p. 190). - -[2] Diog. Laërt. III. 5, 29. - -[3] Plat. Epist. VII, p. 324-326 (p. 428-431); Diog. Laërt. III., 5, 6, -8. - -[4] Diog. Laërt. III, 6, 7, 9, 18-21; Plat. Epist. VII., p. 326, 327 -(p. 431-433). - -[5] Plat. Epist. VII. p. 327-330 (p. 433-439); III. p. 316, 317 (p. -410, 411). - -[6] This circumstance is assigned by Diogenes Laërtius, in the passage -quoted (III. 21, 22), not to the time of Plato’s second journey to -Dionysius the younger, _i.e._ of his third visit to Sicily, where it is -placed by the writers of Plato’s Letters, but to the second journey of -Plato to Sicily, which corresponds with his first visit to Dionysius -the younger.—[Editor’s note.] - -[7] Plat. Epist. VII. p. 337-342 (p. 453-461), p. 344-350 (p. 466-477); -III. p. 317, 318 (p. 411-415). - -[8] Plat. Epist. VII. p. 326 (p. 431). - -[9] From the lectures of 1825. - -[10] Diog. Laërt. III. 23 (Menag. ad h.l.); Ælian Var. Histor. II. 42; -Plutarch, ad principem ineruditum, init. p. 779, ed. Xyl. - -[11] Diog. Laërt. III. 2; Bruckeri Hist. Crit. Philos. Vol. I, p. 653. - -[12] Compare Vol. I. p. 47-53. - -[13] Brandis: De perditis Aristotelis libris de ideis et de bono, sive -philosophia, p. 1-13. (Compare Michelet: Examen critique de l’ouvrage -d’Aristote intitulé Métaphysique, 1835, p. 28-78.)—[Editor’s note.] - -[14] Scholia in Timæum, p. 423, 424 (ed. Bekk: Commentar crit. in Plat. -Vol. II.). - -[15] Plat. De Republica, V. p. 471-474 (p. 257-261). - -[16] Plat. De Republica VII. pp. 514-516 (pp. 326-328). - -[17] Plato De Republica, V. p. 475, 476 (p. 265, 266). - -[18] Diog. Laërt. VI. 53; cf. Plato De Rep. VI. p. 508 (p. 319). - -[19] Plat. De Republ. V. p. 476-479 (p. 266-273). - -[20] Plat. Meno, p. 81 (p. 348, 349). - -[21] Plat. Phædrus, p. 246 (p. 39, 40). - -[22] Plat. Phædrus, p. 246 (p. 40). - -[23] Plat. Phædrus, pp. 246-251 (pp. 40-50). - -[24] Plat. Phædo, pp. 65-67 (pp. 18-23). - -[25] Ibid. p. 72 (p. 35), p. 75 (p. 41). - -[26] Ibid. pp. 78-80 (pp. 46-51). - -[27] Plat. Phædo, pp. 85, 86 (pp. 62, 63), pp. 92-94 (pp. 74-80). - -[28] Ibid. pp. 110-114 (pp. 111-120). - -[29] Plat. Timæus, p. 20 _et seq._ (p. 10 _seq._); Critias, p. 108 -_seq._ (p. 149 _seq._). - -[30] Cf. Vol. I. pp. 318, 319, and the remarks there made. [Editor’s -Note.] - -[31] Hegel’s Werke, Vol. VI., Pt. I, p. 8. - -[32] Plat. Parmenides, pp. 135, 136 (pp. 21-23). - -[33] Ibid. p. 129 (pp. 9, 10). - -[34] Plat. Parmenides, p. 142 (pp. 35, 36); cf. Arist. Eth. Nicom. ed. -Michelet, T. I. Præf. p. VII. sqq. - -[35] Plat. Parmenides, p. 166 (p. 84); cf. Zeller; Platonische Studien, -p. 165. - -[36] Plat. Sophist, pp. 246-249 (pp. 190-196). - -[37] Ibid. p. 258 (p. 219). - -[38] Plat. Sophist. p. 259 (pp. 220, 221). - -[39] Plat. Sophist. pp. 260, 261 (pp. 222-224). - -[40] Plat. Sophist. pp. 258, 259 (pp. 218-220). - -[41] Cf. also Plat. Phileb. p. 14 (p. 138). - -[42] Plat. Phileb. pp. 11-23 (pp. 131-156); pp. 27, 28 (pp. 166, 167). - -[43] Plat. Phileb. pp. 23-30 (pp. 156-172). - -[44] Plat. Phileb. p. 33 (p. 178). - -[45] Cf. Plat. Tim. p. 34 (p. 31); p. 48 (pp. 56, 57); p. 69 (p. 96). - -[46] Ibid. p. 29 (p. 25). - -[47] Plat. Timæus, p. 30, 31 (pp. 25-27). - -[48] Plat. Timæus, pp. 31, 32 (pp. 27, 28). - -[49] Plat. Timæus p. 32 (p. 28). - -[50] Plat. Timæus, pp. 32-34 (pp. 28-31). - -[51] Plat. Timæus, p. 35 (p. 32). - -[52] Ibid. - -[53] Plat. Timæus, pp. 35, 36 (pp. 32-34). - -[54] Plat. Timæus, p. 37 (p. 35). - -[55] Plat. Timæus, p. 48 (p. 57); pp. 37, 38 (pp. 36, 37). - -[56] Plat, Timæus, pp. 47-53 (pp. 55-66). - -[57] Plat. Timæus, pp. 53-56 (pp. 66-72). - -[58] Plat. Timæus, pp. 67-70 (pp. 93-99). - -[59] Plat. Timæus pp. 70-72 (pp. 99-102). - -[60] Plat. De Republica, II., pp. 368, 369 (p. 78.) - -[61] Following the outline here given by Plato, Hegel, in an earlier -attempt to treat the philosophy of Justice (Werke, Vol. I. pp. 380, -381), included in one these two classes, and later named them the -general class (Werke, Vol. VIII. p. 267); the “other” class (as Hegel -expresses it, in the first of the passages referred to above), which -by Plato is not included in this, Hegel divided, however, in both his -narratives, into the second class (that of city handicraftsmen), and -the third (that of tillers of the soil).—[Editor’s note.] - -[62] Plat. de Republica, II. pp. 369-376 (pp. 79-93); III. p. 414 (pp. -158, 159). - -[63] Plat. De Republica, V. p. 463, (p. 241,); p. 460 (p. 236). - -[64] Plat. De Republica, IX. pp. 427, 428 (pp. 179-181). - -[65] Ibid. IV. pp. 428, 429 (pp. 181, 182). - -[66] Ibid. pp. 429, 430 (pp. 182-185). - -[67] Plat. De Republica, IV. pp. 430-432 (pp. 185-188). - -[68] Plat. De Republica, IV. pp. 432, 433 (pp. 188-191). - -[69] Plat. De Republica, IV. pp. 437-443 (pp. 198-210). - -[70] Plat. De Republica, IV. p. 421 (pp. 167, 168). - -[71] Ibid. II. p.376-III. p. 412 (pp. 93-155); V. p. 472-VII. fin. (pp. -258-375). - -[72] Plat. De Legibus, IV. pp. 722, 723 (pp. 367-369). - -[73] Plat. De Republica, III. pp. 412-415 (pp. 155-161.) - -[74] Plat. De Republica, V. pp. 457-461 (pp. 230-239). - -[75] Ibid. pp. 451-457 (pp. 219-230); p. 471 (p. 257). - -[76] Cf. Hegel: On the Scientific Modes of treating Natural Law (Werke, -Vol. I.), pp. 383-386. - -[77] Plat. Hippias Major, p. 292 (p. 433); p. 295 sqq. (p. 439 sqq.) p. -302 (pp. 455, 456). - -[78] In quoting the chapters of Aristotle both hitherto and in future, -Becker’s edition is adopted; where a second number is placed in -brackets after the first, different editions are indicated, _e.g._, for -the Organon, Buhle’s edition, for the Nicomachiean Ethics those of Zell -and the editor, &c.—[Editor’s note.] - -[79] Diog. Laërt. V. 1, 9, 12, 15; Buhle: Aristotelis vita (ante Arist. -Opera, T. I.) pp. 81, 82; Ammonius Saccas: Aristotelis vita (ed. Buhle -in. Arist. Op. T. I.), pp. 43, 44. - -[80] Diog. Laërt. V. 3, 4; 7, 8; Buhle: Aristotel. vita, pp. 90-92. - -[81] Aristotelis Opera (ed. Pac. Aurel. Allobrog, 1607), T. I., in -fine: Aristotelis Fragmenta. (Cf. Stahr. Aristotelia, Pt. I. pp. 85-91.) - -[82] Aulus Gellius: Noctis Atticæ, XX. 5 - -[83] Diog. Laërt. V. 5, 6; Suidas, s. v. Aristoteles; Buhle: Aristot. -vit. p. 100; Ammon. Saccas: Arist. vit. pp. 47, 48; Menag. ad. Diog. -Laërt. V. 2; Stahr. Aristotelia, Pt. I. pp. 108, 109; Bruckeri Hist. -crit. phil. T. I. pp. 788, 789. - -[84] Strabo, XIII. p. 419 (ed. Casaub. 1587); Plutarch in Sulla, c. -26; Brucker. Hist. crit. phil. T. I. pp. 798-800 (cf. Michelet: Examen -critique de l’ouvrage d’Aristote, intitulé Métaphysique, pp. 5-16.) - -[85] Cf. Michelet: Examen critique, &c., pp. 17-23; 28-114; 199-241. - -[86] Gellius: Noct. Atticæ, XX. 5; Stahr: Aristotelia, Pt. I. pp -110-112. - -[87] Arist. Metaphys. VI. 1; Physic. II. 2; I. 9. (Cf. Michelet: Examen -critique, etc., pp. 23-27.) - -[88] Michelet: Examen critique, pp. 115-198. - -[89] Not only the form which is to be abrogated, but also matter is -spoken of by Aristotle as τι, because in truth the form which is to be -abrogated serves only as material for the form which is to be posited; -so that he in the first passage names the three moments ἔκ τινος, -τι, ὑπό τινος, and in the last passage names them τι, εἴς τι, ὑπό -τινος.—[Editor’s Note.] - -[90] As this explanation by Hegel of Aristotle’s celebrated passage -has so many authorities to support it, the editor cannot here, as -frequently elsewhere in these lectures, remain faithful to the -directions of his colleagues, quietly to set right anything that is -incorrect. It is, nevertheless, clear that Aristotle is speaking of -three substances: a sublunar world, which the heavens move; the heavens -as the centre which is both mover and moved; and God, the unmoved -Mover. The passage must therefore, on the authority of Alexander of -Aphrodisias (Schol. in Arist. ed. Brandis, p. 804 _b_), of Cardinal -Bessarion (Aristoteles lat. ed. Bekk. p. 525 _b_) and others, be -thus read: ἔστι τοίνυν τι καὶ ὃ κινεῖ (sc. ὁ οὐρανός)· ἐπεὶ δε τὸ -κινούμενον καὶ κινοῦν καὶ μέσον τοίνυν, ἔυτι τι ὃ οὐ κινούμενον κινεῖ. -The translation, if this reading be adopted, would be as follows: -Besides the heavens in perpetual motion “there is something which the -heavens move. But since that which at the same time is moved and causes -movement cannot be other than a centre, there is also a mover that is -unmoved.” (Cf. Michelet: Examen critique, etc., p. 192; Jahrbücher -für wisseuschaftliche Kritik, November, 1841, No. 84, pp. 668, 669). -[Editor’s note] - -[91] συστοιχία is a good word, and might also mean an element which is -itself its own element, and determines itself only through itself. - -[92] The word τὸ εἶναι, when it governs the dative (τὸ εἶναι νοήσεί καὶ -νοουμένῳ) invariably expresses the Notion, while, when it governs the -accusative, it denotes concrete existence. (Trendelenburg: Comment, in -Arist. De anima, III. 4, p. 473.) [Editor’s Note.] - -[93] Aristotle here distinguishes four determinations: what is moved -in capacity, or the movable [das Bewegbare] (κινητόν); what is moved -in actuality (κινούμενον); the moving in capacity (κινητικόν), or -what Hegel calls the motive [das Bewegliche]; the moving in actuality -(κινοῦν). It might have been better to translate κινητόν by motive -[Beweglich] and κινητικόν by mobile [Bewegerisch].—[Editor’s note.] - -[94] While above (p. 164) we must take the expression τὸ εἶναι as -immediate existence because it is opposed to the Notion, here it has -the meaning of Notion, because it stands in opposition to immediate -existence (καὶ οὺ χωριστὴ μὲν ὕλη, δ̓ εἶναι, καὶ μία τῷ ἀριθμῷ). Cf. -Michelet: Comment. in Arist. Eth. Nicom. V. I., pp. 209-214.—[Editor’s -note.] - -[95] Here τὸ εἶναι has again the signification of Notion, as above (p. -169), because in the preceding words (ἔστι δὲ ταὐτὸ καὶ κατὰ ταὐτὸ ἡ -διαίρεσις καὶ ἥ ἕνωσις) immediate existence is expressed.—[Editor’s -note.] - -[96] The editor has considered himself justified in adopting this -rendering, which was commonly used by the Scholastics, and revived by -Leibnitz. (Cf. Michelet, Examen Critique, &c., pp. 165, 261, 265.) - -[97] Here and once again on this page τὸ εἶναι is the immediate -existence of the separate sides of sense-perception, therefore their -mere potentiality; while, on the other hand, the active unity of the -perceived and the percipient may be expressed as the true Notion of -sense-perception.—[Editor’s Note.] - -[98] _Cf._ _supra_, p. 169, and note there given. The two -significations of τῷ εἶναι here come into immediate contact with one -another, being likewise intermingled; for immediate existence (ἀριθμῷ -ἀδιαίρετον καὶ ἀχωριστον), which is opposed to the Notion (τῷ εἶναι) -becomes in what directly follows mere possibility, to which the true -reality (δυνάμει μὲν γὰρ τὸ αὐτὸ καὶ ἀδιαίρετον εἶναι) is opposed -(δυνάμει μὲν γὰρ τὸ αὐτὸ καὶ ἀδιαίρετον τἀναντία, δ̓ εἶναι ου, ἀλλα τῷ -ἐνεργεῖσθαι διαίρετον).—[Editor’s Note.] - -[99] Cf. Tenneman, Vol. III. p. 198. - -[100] While Aristotle’s reply is short, and given in the manner -usually adopted by him, that of following up by a second question -the first question proposed (ἢ οὐδὲ τἆλλα φαντάσματα, ἀλλʹ οὐκ ἄνευ -φαντασμάτον;), this answer seems quite sufficient. For Aristotle’s -words certainly bear the meaning that the original thoughts of the -active understanding (the reason), in contradistinction to those of -the passive understanding, have quite obliterated in themselves the -element of pictorial conception; while in the latter this has not been -thoroughly carried out, though even in them pictorial conception is not -the essential moment.—[Editor’s Note.] - -[101] Against this we have only to remember that in Aristotle’s way -of speaking ὕστερον and πρότερον always refer to the work they occur -in, while he marks quotations from his other writings by the words: ἐν -ἄλλοις, ἐν ἑτέροις, ἄλλοτε, or εἰς ἐκεῖνον τὸν καιρὸν ἀποκείσθω (De -Ausc. phys. I. 9). And if it be said, as it may be with truth, that -all the physical and psychological works, including the Metaphysics, -form one great scientific system, so that ὕστερον and πρότερον may -very well be used in relating these works to one another, I have yet -proved that the treatise περὶ ψυχῆς must be placed much later than -the Metaphysics (Michelet: Examen Critique, &c., pp. 209-222). Might -not then the expression ὕστερον refer to the following chapter? In -truth, the difficulty raised at the end of the seventh chapter seems -completely solved by the words of the eighth chapter quoted above (pp. -198, 199).—[Editor’s Note.] - -[102] See Michelet, De doli et culpæ in jure criminali notionibus; -System der philosophischen Moral. Book II. Part I; Afzelius, -Aristotelis De imputatione actionum doctrina.—[Editor’s Note.] - -[103] Ethic, Nicom. I. 2-12 (4-12); X. 6-8; Eth. Eudem. II. 1. - -[104] Magn. Moral. I. 5, 35; Eth. Nic. I. 13; Eth. Eud. II. 1. - -[105] Ethic. Nicomach. II. 5-7 (6, 7); Maga. Moral. I. 5-9; Eth. Eud. -II. 3. - -[106] Cf. Arist. Ethic. Nicom. I. 1 (3). - -[107] Arist. Eth. Nic. I. 1 (2). - -[108] Arist. Polit. III. 1; IV. 14-16. - -[109] Ibid. III. 7 (5)-IV. 13. - -[110] Arist. Polit. III. 13 (8-9). - -[111] Categor. c. 3 (c. 2, § 3-5.) - -[112] Categor. c. 4 (c. 2, § 6-8). - -[113] Categor. c. 10-14 (8-11); cf. Kant, Kritik der reinen Vernunft, -p. 79 (6th Ed.). - -[114] Categor. c. 5 (3). - -[115] Arist. Categor. c. 4 (2); De Interpretat. c. 4-6. - -[116] Arist. Analytic. prior. I. 1; Topic I. 1. - -[117] Arist. Topic I. 13 (11) et 1. - -[118] Ibid. I. 16-18 (14-16); II. 7, 8, 10. - -[119] Ibid. III. 1; Buhle, Argum. p. 18. - -[120] Analyt. prior. II. 23 (25). - -[121] Diog. Laërt. VII. I, 12, 31, 32, 5, 2 (IV. 6, 7), 13, 6-11, 28, -29. Tennemann, Vol. IV. p. 4; Vol. II. pp. 532, 534; Bruck. Hist. Crit. -Phil. T. I. pp. 895, 897-899. (_Cf._ Fabric. Biblioth. Græc. T. II. p. -413), 901. - -[122] Diog. Laërt, VII. 168, 169, 176. - -[123] Diog. Laërt. VII. 179-181, 184, 189-202; Tennemann, Vol. IV. p. -443. - -[124] Diog. Laërt. VI. 81; Cicer. Acad. Quæst. IV. 30; De Oratore II. -37, 38; De Senectute, c. 7; Tennemann, Vol. IV. p. 444. - -[125] Cic. De Officiis III. 2; De Nat. Deor. I. 3; Suidas: s. v. -Posidonius, T. III. p. 159. - -[126] Aul. Gell. Noct. Att. I. 2 (Gronovius ad h. 1.); II. 18; XV. 11; -XIX. 1. - -[127] Stob. Eclog. phys. I. p. 32. - -[128] Diog. Laërt. VII. 136, 142, 156, 157; Plutarch, de plac. philos. -IV. 21. - -[129] Diog. Laërt. VII. 135; Stob. Eclog. phys. I. p. 178. - -[130] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. IX. 101-103. - -[131] Diog. Laërt. VII. 137. - -[132] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VII. 234; Diog. Laërt. VII. 138-140, 147, -148. - -[133] Diog. Laërt. VII. 54, 46; Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VII. 227-230. - -[134] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VIII. 403, sqq.; cf. Senec. Epist. 107. - -[135] Diog. Laërt. VII. 63; Sext. Emp. adv. Math. VIII. 70. - -[136] Diog. Laërt. VII. 79, 80, 83. - -[137] Cicer. De Officiis I. 3, III.; Diog. Laërt. VII. 98, 99. - -[138] Diog. Laërt. VII. 94. - -[139] Diog. Laërt. VII. 127, 128; Cicer. Paradox, 2. - -[140] Cicer. De finibus III. 13; Tusculan. Quæst. II. 25. - -[141] Diog. Laërt. VII. 107, 108. - -[142] Plutarch. De Stoicorum repugnantia, p. 1031 (ed. Xyl.); Stob. -Eclog. ethic. P. II. p. 110 Diog. Laërt. VII. 125. - -[143] Diog. Laërt. VII. 121, 122, 116, 117, 129; Sext. Empir. adv. -Math. XI. 190-194. - -[144] Tacit. Annal. XIV. 53; XIII. 42, 3. - -[145] Diog. Laërt. X. 1-8, 10-15; Cic. De Nat. Deor. I. 26; De Finibus, -II. 25; Bruck. Hist. Crit. Phil. T. I. pp. 1230, 1231, 1233, 1236; -Sext. Emp. adv. Math. X. 18; I. 3. - -[146] Diog. Laërt. X. 11, 24, 9; IV. 43; Cic. De Finib. V. 1; Euseb. -Præp. evangel. XIV. 5. - -[147] Diog. Laërt. X. 26. - -[148] Diog. Laërt. X. 31. - -[149] Diog. Laërt. X. 31, 32. - -[150] Diog. Laërt. X. 33. - -[151] Diog. Laërt. X. 33, 34. - -[152] Diog. Laërt. X. 34. - -[153] Diog. Laërt. X. 48, 49. - -[154] Diog. Laërt. X. 50, 51. - -[155] Diog. Laërt. X. 54, 55. - -[156] Diog. Laërt. X. 55-58. - -[157] Diog. Laërt. X. 43, 44, 60, 61; Cic. De fato, c. 10; De finibus, -l. 6; Plutarch. De animæ procreat. e Timæo, p. 1015. - -[158] Diog. Laërt. X. 78-80, 86, 87, 93-96, 101, 97. - -[159] Diog. Laërt. X. 113, 114. - -[160] Cicer. De natura Deorum, I. 20. - -[161] Diog. Laërt. X. 66, 63, 64. - -[162] Diog. Laërt. X. 141-143. - -[163] Diog. Laërt. X. 122, 123, 139. - -[164] Cicer. De nat. Deor. I. 17, 19, 20. - -[165] Cicer. De divinat. II. 17; De nat. Deor. I. 8. - -[166] Diog. Laërt. X. 124, 125, 127. - -[167] Diog. Laërt. X. 127-132 (119, 135). - -[168] Sext. Empir. Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 33, § 220. - -[169] Diog. Laërt. IV. 28-33, 36-38, 42, 44; Bruck. Hist. crit. phil. -T. I. p. 746; Tennemann, Vol. IV. p. 443; Cic. De finib. II. 1. - -[170] Sext. Empir. Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 33, § 232; Diog. Laërt. IV. 32. - -[171] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VII. 154. - -[172] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VII. 154-156. - -[173] Diog. Laërt. IV. 62, 65; Tennemann, Vol. IV. pp. 334, 443, 444; -Cicer. Acad. Quæst. II. 6; Valer. Maxim. VIII. 7, ext. 5. - -[174] Plutarch. Cato major, c. 22; Gell. Noct. Attic. VII. 14; Cic. De -orat. II. 37, 38; Aelian. Var. hist. III. 17; Bruck. Hist. crit. phil. -T. I. p. 763. - -[175] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VII. 159, 160. - -[176] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VII. 160, 161. - -[177] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VII. 161-164, 402. - -[178] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VII. 165. - -[179] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VII. 166-169. - -[180] Ibid. 166, 167. - -[181] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VII. 173-175. - -[182] Ibid. 176, 177; 187-189; 179. - -[183] Ibid. 176, 177; 179; 187-189. - -[184] Sext. Empir. adv. Math. VII. 181-184. - -[185] As it is used here and shortly afterwards, “positive philosophy” -has quite an opposite meaning from what we have just seen it to bear in -two previous passages (p. 329), because speculation certainly stands -in opposition to dogmatism; and at the same time we must in Hegel -distinguish altogether this expression in its double significance from -the positivism so prevalent in modern times, which, merely escaping -from the necessity for thinking knowledge, finally throws itself into -the arms of revelation and simple faith, whether it tries to call -itself free thought or not.—[Editor’s note.] - -[186] Lectures of 1825-1826. - -[187] Diog. Laërt. IX. 71-73; cf. Vol. I. pp. 161, 246, 284. - -[188] Diog. Laërt. IX. 61-65, 69, 70; Bruck. Hist. crit. phil. T. I. -pp. 1320-1323. - -[189] Diog. Laërt. IX. 109. - -[190] Diog. Laërt. IX. 116; Bruck. Hist. crit. phil. T. I. p. 1328. - -[191] Bruck. Hist. crit. phil. T. II. pp. 631-636. - -[192] Sext. Empir. Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 39, §§ 221-225. - -[193] Sext. Empir. Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 3, § 7; Diog. Laërt. IX. 69, 70. - -[194] Cf. _supra_, p. 212. - -[195] Diog. Laërt. IX. 68. - -[196] Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. Hypot. I. c. 8, § 17. - -[197] Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, §§ 40-44. - -[198] Sext. Emp, Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, §§ 79-82, 85-89. - -[199] Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, §§ 91, 92. - -[200] Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, §§ 100, 112. - -[201] Ibid, §§ 118-120. - -[202] Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, §§ 124-126. - -[203] Ibid. §§ 129-131, 133. - -[204] Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, §§ 141-144. - -[205] Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, §§ 145, 148, 149. - -[206] Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 15, §§ 164-169. (Diog. Laërt. IX. 88, 89.) - -[207] Bruck. Hist. crit. philos. T. II. pp. 797, 799, et notæ; Phil. -De legatione ad Cajum, p. 992 (ed. Francf. 1691): Joseph. Antiq. Jud. -XVIII. c. 10, p. 649; Euseb. Hist, eccles. II. c. 18; _cf._ Fabric -Biblioth. Gr. Vol. III. p. 115 (Hamburg, 1708). - -[208] Phil. De confusione linguarum, p. 358; De special. legib. II. pp. -806, 807; De mundi opificio, p. 15; De migratione Abrahami, pp. 393, -417, 418; Quis. rer. divin. hæres. p. 518; Quod Deus sit immutabilis, -pp. 301, 302; De monarchia, I. p. 816; De nominum mutatione, p. 1045; -De Cherub. p. 124; De somniis, p. 576. - -[209] Phil. De somniis, pp. 574, 575; Liber legis allegoriarum, I. p. -48; Quod Deus sit immut. p. 298. - -[210] Phil. De mundi opificio, pp. 4-6; De agricultura, p. 195; De -somniis, pp. 597, 599. - -[211] Phil. Leg. allegor. I. p. 46, et II. p. 93; Quod deterius potiori -insidiari soleat, p. 165; De temulentia, p. 244; De somniis, pp. 578, -586, 588; De confus. ling. pp. 341, 345; Euseb. Præp. ev. VII. c. 13; -Phil. De vita Mosis, III. p. 672; De sacrif. Abel., p. 140. - -[212] Buhle: Lehrbuch d. Gesch. d. Phil. Pt. IV. p. 124; Phil. De mundi -opificio, p. 5. - -[213] Phil. De mund. opific. p. 4; De victimas offerentibus, p. 857 -(Buhle, ibid. p. 125). - -[214] De mundi opificio, pp. 5, 6 (Brucker Hist. crit. phil. Tom. II. -pp. 802, 803). - -[215] Brucker Hist. crit. phil. T. II. pp. 834-840, 924-927. - -[216] Irira: Porta c\nlorum, Dissertatio I. c. 4; c. 6, § 13 et c. 7, § -2; IV. c. 4, sqq.; II. c. 1; V. c. 7, 8; Tiedemann: Geist der speculat. -Philosophie, Pt. III. pp. 149, 150, 155-157; Buhle: Lehrbuch der Gesch. -der Phil. Pt. IV. pp. 156, 162, 160, 157. - -[217] Neander: Genetische Entwickelung der vornehmsten gnostischen -Systeme, pp. 10, 33, 34; Philo De nominum mutat. p. 1046. - -[218] Neander: Genet. Entwickelung, &c., pp. 168, 170, 171. - -[219] Neander: Genet. Entwickelung, &c., pp. 94-97. - -[220] Ibid. pp. 160, 10-13; Phil. Quod Deus sit immut. p. 304. - -[221] Cf. Buhle, Lehrb. d. Gesch. d. Phil. Pt. IV. pp. 195-200. - -[222] Brucker, Hist. crit. phil. T. II. pp. 205, 213, 214. - -[223] Porphyrius, Vita Plotini (præmissa Ennead. Plot. Basil. 1580), -pp. 2, 3, 5-8; Brucker, Hist. crit. phil. T. II. pp. 218-221; -Tiedemann, Geist d. spec. Phil. Vol. III. p. 272; Buhle, Lehrb. d. -Gesch. d. Phil. Pt. IV. p. 306. - -[224] Cf. Plotin. Ennead. I. l. 6, c. 7; IV. l. 4, c. 39-43; Procli -Theol. Plat. I. pp. 69, 70 (ed. Aem. Portus, Hamburg, 1618). - -[225] Plot. Ennead. IV. l. 8, c. 1; cf. _ibidem_, c. 4-7. - -[226] Plot. Ennead. III. l. 6, c. 6; VI. l. 9, c. 1, 2; III. l. 8, c. 8. - -[227] This Aristotelian word, and also ἐξέρτηται (Procl. Theol. Plat. -III. p. 133), often occur in the Neo-Platonists. - -[228] Plot. Ennead. I. l. 8: Περὶ τοῦ τίνα καὶ πόθεν τὰ κακά, c. 2 (VI. -l. 9, c. 6); III. l. 8, c. 9, 10. - -[229] Plot. Ennead. V. l. 3, c. 13, 14; l. 2, c. 1; VI. l. 2, c. 9, 10; -l. 8, c. 8, 9; l. 9, c. 3, VI. l. 9, c. 6; l. 8, c. 7 (13, 21). - -[230] Steinhart: Quæstiones de dialectica Plotini ratione, p. 21; -Plotini Ennead. VI. l. 9, c. 1-9, _passim_. - -[231] Plot. Ennead. III. l. 8, c. 10 fin.; IV. l. 3, c. 17; V. l. 1, c. -4, 5; c. 7; l. 4, c. 2; l. 5, c. 1. - -[232] Plot. Ennead. V. l. 1, c. 6 (IV. l. 3, c. 17). - -[233] Plot. Ennead. V. l. 2, c. 1; l. 1, c. 7; VI. l. 9, c. 2. - -[234] Plot. Ennead. V. l. 3, c. 5; VI. l. 2, c. 8; II. l. 4, c. 4; VI. -l. 4, c. 2; V. l. 9, c. 8, 9. - -[235] Plot. Ennead. VI. l. 2, c. 2; V. l. 9, c. 8. - -[236] Plot. Ennead. IV. l. 3, c. 17. - -[237] Plot. Ennead. V. l. 1, c. 7; l. 2, c. 1, 2; l. 6, c. 4; VI. l. 2, -c. 22. - -[238] Plot. Ennead. V. l. 3, c. 5; ἕν ἅμα πάντα ἔσται, νοῦς, νόησις, τὸ -νοητόν. - -[239] Plot. Ennead. II. l. 9, c. 1-3, 6. - -[240] If we were to translate this by “in the intelligible world,” the -expression would be misleading; for “the world” is nowhere. Neither may -we say, “intelligible things,” as if there were things of some other -kind; such distinctions and definitions are nowhere found. - -[241] Plot. Ennead. II. l. 4, c. 4, 12-15; l. 5, c. 2-5. - -[242] Plot. Ennead. I. l. 8, c. 2, 3. - -[243] Instead of δεῖ in the sentence οὐ γὰρ δεῖ τὸ εἰπεῖν we should -certainly read δή, or something of the kind. - -[244] Buhle, Lehrb. d. Gesch. d. Phil. Part IV. pp. 418, 419; -Tiedemann, Geist. d. spec. Phil. Vol. III. pp. 421-423; cf. Plotini -Ennead. IV. l. 3 et 8 passim. - -[245] Buhle, Lehrb. d. Gesch. d. Phil. Part IV. pp. 419, 420. - -[246] Brucker: Hist. crit. phil. T. II. pp. 248, 268. - -[247] Cf. Procli. Theol. Plat. III. p. 140. - -[248] Brucker: Hist. cr. phil. T. II. p. 320; Tennemann, Vol. VI. pp. -284-289; Marinus: Vita Procli, passim (præm. Theol. Plat.). - -[249] Procli Institutionis theologicæ, c. 26. - -[250] Procli Institut. theol. c. 27; Theol. Plat. III. p. 119; II. pp. -101, 102; III. p. 121; Institut. theol. c. 5. - -[251] Procli Institut. theol. c. 1-2; c. 28; Theol. Plat. III. pp. 118, -122-125; II. pp. 108, 109. - -[252] Procli Theol. Plat. III. pp. 123-124. - -[253] Procli Theol. Plat. III. pp. 141, 127; Instit. theol. c. 192. - -[254] It is doubtful whether the καὶ should not be omitted, so that ἡ -ἁκρότης τῶν ὄντων would stand in apposition to νοῦς. - -[255] Procli Theol. Plat. III. p. 144 (VI. p. 403); Instit. theol. c. -124, 170. - -[256] Procli Theol. Plat. I. pp. 69, 70. - -[257] Brucker: Hist. cr. phil. T. II. pp. 350, 347; Joan. Malala: Hist. -chron. P. II. p. 187; Nic. Alemannus ad Procopii anecdot. c. 26. p. 377. - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: - -—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hegel's Lectures on the History of -Philosophy: Volume Two (of 3), by Georg Wilhelm Hegel - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEGEL'S LECTURES--HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY 2 *** - -***** This file should be named 51636-0.txt or 51636-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/6/3/51636/ - -Produced by Giovanni Fini, Fritz Ohrenschall and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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