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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/33411-8.txt b/33411-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..450de22 --- /dev/null +++ b/33411-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11918 @@ +Project Gutenberg's A Critical History of Greek Philosophy, by W. T. Stace + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: A Critical History of Greek Philosophy + +Author: W. T. Stace + +Release Date: August 12, 2010 [EBook #33411] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY *** + + + + +Produced by Don Kostuch + + + + +[Transcriber's Notes] + This text is derived from a copy in the Ave Maria University + library, catalog number "B 171 .S8" + + +[End Transcriber's Notes] + +A CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED +LONDON - BOMBAY - CALCUTTA - MADRAS +MELBOURNE + + +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY +NEW YORK - BOSTON - CHICAGO +DALLAS - SAN FRANCISCO + +THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd +TORONTO + + + +A CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY + +BY + +W. T. STACE + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED +ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON +1920 + + +COPYRIGHT + + +GLASGOW: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS +BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD. + + +{v} + +PREFACE + +This book contains the substance, and for the most part the words, of +a course of public lectures delivered during the first three months of +1919. The original division into lectures has been dropped, the matter +being more conveniently redivided into chapters. + +The audience to whom the lectures were delivered was composed of +members of the general public, and not only of students. For the most +part they possessed no previous knowledge of philosophy. Hence this +book, like the original lectures, assumes no previous special +knowledge, though it assumes, of course, a state of general education +in the reader. Technical philosophical terms are carefully explained +when first introduced; and a special effort has been made to put +philosophical ideas in the clearest way possible. But it must be +remembered that many of the profoundest as well as the most difficult +of human conceptions are to be found in Greek philosophy. Such ideas +are difficult in themselves, however clearly expressed. No amount of +explanation can ever render them anything but difficult to the +unsophisticated mind, and anything in the nature of "philosophy made +easy" is only to be expected from quacks and charlatans. + +Greek philosophy is not, even now, antiquated. It is not from the +point of view of an antiquary or historian {vi} that its treasures are +valuable. We are dealing here with living things, and not with mere +dead things--not with the dry bones and debris of a bygone age. And I +have tried to lecture and write for living people, and not for mere +fossil-grubbers. If I did not believe that there is to be found here, +in Greek philosophy, at least a measure of the truth, the truth that +does not grow old, I would not waste five minutes of my life upon it. + +"We do not," says a popular modern writer, [Footnote 1] "bring the +young mind up against the few broad elemental questions that are the +_questions of metaphysics_ .... We do not make it discuss, correct it, +elucidate it. That was the way of the Greeks, and we worship that +divine people far too much to adopt their way. No, we lecture to our +young people about not philosophy but philosophers, we put them +through book after book, telling how other people have discussed these +questions. We avoid the questions of metaphysics, but we deliver +semi-digested half views of the discussions of, and answers to these +questions made by men of all sorts and qualities, in various remote +languages and under conditions quite different from our own. . . . It +is as if we began teaching arithmetic by long lectures upon the origin +of the Roman numerals, and then went on to the lives and motives of +the Arab mathematicians in Spain, or started with Roger Bacon in +chemistry, or Sir Richard Owen in comparative anatomy .... It is time +the educational powers began to realise that the questions of +metaphysics, the elements of philosophy, are, here and now to be done +afresh in each mind .... What is wanted is philosophy, and not a +shallow smattering of the history of philosophy ... {vii} The proper +way to discuss metaphysics, like the proper way to discuss mathematics +or chemistry, is to discuss the accumulated and digested product of +human thought in such matters." + +[Footnote 1: H. G. Wells in "First and Last Things."] + +Plausible words these, certain to seem conclusive to the mob, +notwithstanding that for one element of truth they contain nine of +untruth! The elements of truth are that our educational system +unwarrantably leaves unused the powerful weapon of oral discussion--so +forcibly wielded by the Greeks--and develops book knowledge at the +expense of original thought. Though even here it must be remembered, +as regards the Greeks, (1) that if they studied the history of +philosophy but little, it was because there was then but little +history of philosophy to study, and (2) that if anyone imagines that +the great Greek thinkers did not fully master the thought of their +predecessors before constructing their own systems, he is grievously +mistaken, and (3) that in some cases the over-reliance on oral +discussion--the opposite fault to ours--led to intellectual +dishonesty, quibbling, ostentation, disregard of truth, shallowness, +and absence of all principle; this was the case with the Sophists. + +As to the comparisons between arithmetic and philosophy, chemistry and +philosophy, etc., they rest wholly upon a false parallel, and involve +a total failure to comprehend the nature of philosophic truth, and its +fundamental difference from arithmetical, chemical, or physical truth. +If Eratosthenes thought the circumference of the earth to be so much, +whereas it has now been discovered to be so much, then the later +correct view simply cancels and renders nugatory the older view. +{viii} The one is correct, the other incorrect. We can ignore and +forget the incorrect view altogether. But the development of +philosophy proceeds on quite other principles. Philosophical truth is +no sum in arithmetic to be totted up so that the answer is thus +formally and finally correct or incorrect. Rather, the philosophical +truth unfolds itself, factor by factor, in time, in the successive +systems of philosophy, and it is only in the complete series that the +complete truth is to be found. The system of Aristotle does not simply +cancel and refute that of Plato. Spinoza does not simply abolish +Descartes. Aristotle completes Plato, as his necessary complement. +Spinoza does the same for Descartes. And so it is always. The +calculation of Eratosthenes is simply wrong, and so we can afford to +forget it. But the systems of Plato, Aristotle, Spinoza, Leibniz, +etc., are all alike factors of the truth. They are as true now as they +were in their own times, though they are not, and never were, the +whole truth. And therefore it is that they are not simply wrong, done +with, finished, ended, and that we cannot afford to forget them. +Whether it is not possible to bring the many lights to a single focus, +to weld the various factors of the truth into a single organic whole +or system, which should thus be the total result to date, is another +question. Only one such attempt has ever been made, but no one will +pretend that it is possible to understand it without a thorough +knowledge of all previous systems, a knowledge, in fact, of the +separate factors of the truth before they are thus combined into a +total result. Besides, that attempt, too, is now part of the history +of philosophy! + +Hence any philosophical thinking which is not founded {ix} upon a +thorough study of the systems of the past will necessarily be shallow +and worthless. And the notions that we can dispense with this study, +and do everything out of our own heads, that everyone is to be his own +philosopher, and is competent to construct his own system in his own +way--such ideas are utterly empty and hollow. Of these truths, indeed, +we see a notable example in what the writer just quoted styles his +"metaphysic." This so-called metaphysic is wholly based upon the +assumption that knowledge and its object exist, each on its own +account, external to one another, the one here, the other there over +against it, and that knowledge is an "instrument" which in this +external manner takes hold of its object and makes it its own. The +very moment the word "instrument" is used here, all the rest, +including the invalidity of knowledge, follows as a matter of course. +Such assumption then--that knowledge is an "instrument"--our writer +makes, wholly uncritically, and without a shadow of right. He gives no +sign that it has ever even occurred to him that this is an assumption, +that it needs any enquiry, or that it is possible for anyone to think +otherwise. Yet anyone who will take the trouble, not merely +superficially to dip into the history of philosophy, but thoroughly to +submit himself to its discipline, will at least learn that this is an +assumption, a very doubtful assumption, too, which no one now has the +right to foist upon the public without discussion as if it were an +axiomatic truth. He might even learn that it is a false assumption. +And he will note, as an ominous sign, that the subjectivism which +permeates and directs the whole course of Mr. Wells's thinking is +identical in character with that {x} subjectivism which was the +essential feature of the decay and _downfall_ of the Greek philosophic +spirit, and was the cause of its final _ruin_ and _dissolution_. + +I would counsel the young, therefore, to pay no attention to plausible +and shallow words such as those quoted, but, before forming their own +philosophic opinions, most thoroughly and earnestly to study and +master the history of past philosophies, first the Greek and then the +modern. That this cannot be done merely by reading a modern resume of +that history, but only by studying the great thinkers in their own +works, is true. But philosophical education must begin, and the +function of such books as this, is, not to complete it, but to begin +it; and to obtain first of all a general view of what must afterwards +be studied in detail is no bad way of beginning. Moreover, the study +of the development and historical connexions of the various +philosophies, which is not found in the original writings themselves, +will always provide a work for histories of philosophy to do. + +Two omissions in this book require, perhaps, a word of explanation. + +Firstly, in dealing with Plato's politics I have relied on the +"Republic," and said nothing of the "Laws." This would not be +permissible in a history of political theories, nor even in a history +of philosophy which laid any special emphasis on politics. But, from +my point of view, politics lie on the extreme outer margin of +philosophy, so that a more slender treatment of the subject is +permissible. Moreover, the "Republic," whether written early or late, +expresses, in my opinion, the views of Plato, and not those of +Socrates, and it still remains the outstanding, typical, and +characteristic {xi} expression of the Platonic political ideal, +however much that ideal had afterwards to be modified by practical +considerations. + +Secondly, I have not even mentioned the view, now held by some, that +the theory of Ideas is really the work of Socrates, and not of Plato, +and that Plato's own philosophy consisted in some sort of esoteric +number-theory, combined with theistic and other doctrines. I can only +say that this theory, as expounded for example by Professor Burnet, +does not commend itself to me, that, in fact, I do not believe it, but +that, it being impossible to discuss it adequately in a book of this +kind, I have thought that, rather than discuss it inadequately, it +were better to leave it alone altogether. Moreover, it stands on a +totally different footing from, say, Professor Burnet's interpretation +of Parmenides, which I have discussed. That concerned the +interpretation of the true meaning of a philosophy. This merely +concerns the question who was the author of a philosophy. That was a +question of principle, this merely of personalities. That was of +importance to the philosopher, this merely to the historian and +antiquary. It is like the Bacon-Shakespeare question, which no lover +of drama, as such, need concern himself with at all. No doubt the +Plato-Socrates question is of interest to antiquarians, but after all, +fundamentally, it does not matter who is to have the credit of the +theory of Ideas, the only essential thing for us being to understand +that theory, and rightly to apprehend its value as a factor of the +truth. This book is primarily concerned with philosophical ideas, +their truth, meaning, and significance, and not with the rights and +wrongs of antiquarian disputes. It does indeed purport to {xii} be a +_history_, as well as a discussion of philosophic conceptions. But +this only means that it takes up philosophical ideas in their +historical sequence and connexions, and it does this only because the +conceptions of evolution in philosophy, of the onward march of thought +to a determined goal; of its gradual and steady rise to the supreme +heights of idealism, its subsequent decline, and ultimate collapse, +are not only profoundly impressive as historical phenomena, but are of +vital importance to a true conception of philosophy itself. Were it +not for this, Mr. Wells would, I think, be right, and I for one should +abandon treatment in historical order altogether. Lastly, I may remark +that the description of this book as a _critical_ history means that it +is, or attempts to be critical, not of dates, texts, readings, and the +like, but of philosophical conceptions. + +I owe a debt of thanks to Mr. F. L. Woodward, M.A., late principal of +Mahinda College, Galle, Ceylon, for assisting me in the compilation of +the index of names, and in sundry other matters. + +W.T.S. + +_January_, 1920. + + +{xiii} + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + +I. THE IDEA OF PHILOSOPHY IN GENERAL. THE + ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY 1 + +II. THE IONICS. THALES. ANAXIMANDER. + ANAXIMENES. OTHER IONIC THINKERS 20 + +III. THE PYTHAGOREANS 31 + +IV. THE ELEATICS. XENOPHANES. PARMENIDES. + ZENO. CRITICAL REMARKS ON ELEATICISM 40 + +V. HERACLEITUS 72 + +VI. EMPEDOCLES 81 + +VII. THE ATOMISTS 86 + +VIII. ANAXAGORAS 94 + +IX. THE SOPHISTS 106 + +X. SOCRATES 127 + +XI. THE SEMI-SOCRATICS. THE CYNICS. THE + CYRENAICS. THE MEGARICS 155 + +XII. PLATO 164 + + (i.) Life and writings 165 + + (ii.) The theory of knowledge 177 + + (iii.) Dialectic, or the theory of Ideas 183 + + (iv.) Physics, or the theory of existence 207 + + (a) The doctrine of the world 207 + + (b) The doctrine of the human soul 211 + +{xiv} + + (v.) Ethics 217 + + (a) Of the individual 217 + + (b) The State 225 + + (vi.) Views upon art 229 + + (vii.) Critical estimate of Plato's philosophy 234 + +XIII. ARISTOTLE: + + (i.) Life, Writings, and general character of + his work 249 + + (ii.) Logic 260 + + (iii.) Metaphysics 261 + + (iv.) Physics, or the philosophy of nature 288 + + (v.) Ethics: + + (a) The individual 314 + + (b) The State 320 + + (vi.) Aesthetics, or the theory of art 325 + + (vii.) Critical estimate of + Aristotle's philosophy 331 + +XIV. THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF POST-ARISTOTELIAN + PHILOSOPHY 339 + +XV. THE STOICS. LOGIC. PHYSICS. ETHICS 344 + +XVI. THE EPICUREANS. PHYSICS. ETHICS 354 + +XVII. THE SCEPTICS. PYRRHO. THE NEW ACADEMY. + LATER SCEPTICISM 361 + +XVIII. TRANSITION TO NEO-PLATONISM 368 + +XIX. THE NEO-PLATONISTS 372 + + INDEX OF SUBJECTS 378 + + INDEX OF NAMES 382 + + +{1} +A CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY + + +CHAPTER I + + +THE IDEA OF PHILOSOPHY IN GENERAL. + +THE ORIGINS AND DEVELOPMENT OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY + + +It is natural that, at the commencement of any study, one should be +expected to say what the subject-matter of that study is. Botany is +the knowledge of plants, astronomy of the heavenly bodies, geology of +the rocks of the earth's crust. What, then, is the special sphere of +philosophy? What is philosophy about? Now it is not as easy to give a +concise definition of philosophy, as it is of the other sciences. In +the first place, the content of philosophy has differed considerably +in different periods of history. In general the tendency has been to +narrow down the scope of the subject as knowledge advanced, to exclude +from philosophy what was formerly included in it. Thus in the time of +Plato, physics and astronomy were included as parts of philosophy, +whereas now they constitute separate sciences. This, however, is not +an insurmountable difficulty. What chiefly militates against the +effort to frame a definition is that the precise content of philosophy +is differently viewed by different schools of thought. Thus a +definition of {2} philosophy which a follower of Herbert Spencer might +frame would be unacceptable to an Hegelian, and the Hegelian +definition would be rejected by the Spencerian. If we were to include +in our definition some such phrase as "the knowledge of the Absolute," +while this might suit some philosophers, others would deny that there +is any Absolute at all. Another school would say that there may be an +Absolute, but that it is unknowable, so that philosophy cannot be the +knowledge of it. Yet another school would tell us that, whether there +is or is not an Absolute, whether it is or is not knowable, the +knowledge of it is in any case useless, and ought not to be sought. +Hence no definition of philosophy can be appreciated without some +knowledge of the special tenets of the various schools. In a word, the +proper place to give a definition is not at the beginning of the study +of philosophy, but at the end of it. Then, with all views before us, +we might be able to decide the question. + +I shall make no attempt, therefore, to place before you a precise +definition. But perhaps the same purpose will be served, if I pick out +some of the leading traits of philosophy, which serve to distinguish +it from other branches of knowledge, and illustrate them by +enumerating--but without any attempt at completeness--some of the +chief problems which philosophers have usually attempted to solve. And +firstly, philosophy is distinguished from other branches of knowledge +by the fact that, whereas these each take some particular portion of +the universe for their study, philosophy does not specialize in this +way, but deals with the universe as a whole. The universe is one, and +ideal knowledge of it would be one; but the principles of +specialization and division of {3} labour apply here as elsewhere, and +so astronomy takes for its subject that portion of the universe which +we call the heavenly bodies, botany specializes in plant life, +psychology in the facts of the mind, and so on. But philosophy does +not deal with this or that particular sphere of being, but with being +as such. It seeks to see the universe as a single co-ordinated system +of things. It might be described as the science of things in general. +The world in its most universal aspects is its subject. All sciences +tend to generalize, to reduce multitudes of particular facts to single +general laws. Philosophy carries this process to its highest limit. It +generalizes to the utmost. It seeks to view the entire universe in the +light of the fewest possible general principles, in the light, if +possible, of a single ultimate principle. + +It is a consequence of this that the special sciences take their +subject matter, and much of their contents, for granted, whereas +philosophy seeks to trace everything back to its ultimate grounds. It +may be thought that this description of the sciences is incorrect. Is +not the essential maxim of modern science to assume nothing, to take +nothing for granted, to assert nothing without demonstration, to prove +all? This is no doubt true within certain limits, but beyond those +limits it does not hold good. All the sciences take quite for granted +certain principles and facts which are, for them, ultimate. To +investigate these is the portion of the philosopher, and philosophy +thus takes up the thread of knowledge where the sciences drop it. It +begins where they end. It investigates what they take as a matter of +course. + +Let us consider some examples of this. The science of geometry deals +with the laws of space. But it takes {4} space just as it finds it in +common experience. It takes space for granted. No geometrician asks +what space is. This, then, will be a problem for philosophy. Moreover, +geometry is founded upon certain fundamental propositions which, it +asserts, being self-evident, require no investigation. These are +called "axioms." That two straight lines cannot enclose a space, and +that equals being added to equals the results are equal, are common +examples. Into the ground of these axioms the geometrician does not +enquire. That is the business of philosophy. Not that philosophers +affect to doubt the truth of these axioms. But surely it is a very +strange thing, and a fact quite worthy of study, that there are some +statements of which we feel that we must give the most laborious +proofs, and others in the case of which we feel no such necessity. How +is it that some propositions can be self-evident and others must be +proved? What is the ground of this distinction? And when one comes to +think of it, it is a very extraordinary property of mind that it +should be able to make the most universal and unconditional statements +about things, without a jot of evidence or proof. When we say that two +straight lines cannot enclose a space, we do not mean merely that this +has been found true in regard to all the particular pairs of straight +lines with which we have tried the experiment. We mean that it never +can be and never has been otherwise. We mean that a million million +years ago two straight lines did not enclose a space, and that it will +be the same a million million years hence, and that it is just as true +on those stars, if there are any, which are invisible even to the +greatest telescopes. But we have no experience of what will {5} happen +a million million years hence, or of what can take place among those +remote stars. And yet we assert, with absolute confidence, that our +axiom is and must be equally true everywhere and at all times. +Moreover, we do not found this on probabilities gathered from +experience. Nobody would make experiments or use telescopes to prove +such axioms. How is it that they are thus self-evident, that the mind +can make these definite and far-reaching assertions without any +evidence at all? Geometricians do not consider these questions. They +take the facts for granted. To solve these problems is for philosophy. + + +Again, the physical sciences take the existence of matter for granted. +But philosophy asks what matter is. At first sight it might appear +that this question is one for the physicist and not the philosopher. +For the problem of "the constitution of matter" is a well-known +physical problem. But a little consideration will show that this is +quite a different question from the one the philosopher propounds. For +even if it be shown that all matter is ether, or electricity, or +vortex-atoms, or other such, this does not help us in our special +problem. For these theories, even if proved, only teach us that the +different kinds of matter are forms of some one physical existence. +But what we want to know is what physical existence itself is. To +prove that one kind of matter is really another kind of matter does +not tell us what is the essential nature of matter. That, therefore, +is a problem, not of science, but of philosophy. + +In the same way, all the sciences take the existence of the universe +for granted. But philosophy seeks to know why it is that there is a +universe at all. Is it {6} true, for example, that there is some +single ultimate reality which produces all things? And if so, what +sort of a reality is it? Is it matter, or mind, or something different +from both? Is it good or evil? And if it is good, how is it that there +is evil in the world? + +Moreover every science, except the purely mathematical sciences, +assumes the truth of the law of causation. Every student of logic +knows that this is the ultimate canon of the sciences, the foundation +of them all. If we did not believe in the truth of the law of +causation, namely, that everything which has a beginning has a cause, +and that in the same circumstances the same things invariably happen, +all the sciences would at once crumble to dust. In every scientific +investigation, this truth is assumed. If we ask the zoologist how he +knows that all camels are herbivorous, he will no doubt point in the +first instance to experience. The habits of many thousands of camels +have been observed. But this only proves that those particular camels +are herbivorous. How about the millions that have never been observed +at all? He can only appeal to the law of causation. The camel's +structure is such that it cannot digest meat. It is a case of cause +and effect. How do we know that water always freezes at 0° centigrade +(neglecting questions of pressure, etc.)? How do we know that this is +true at those regions of the earth where no one has ever been to see? +Only because we believe that in the same circumstances the same thing +always happens, that like causes always produce like effects. But how +do we know the truth of this law of causation itself? Science does not +consider the question. It traces its assertions back to this law, but +goes no {7} further. Its fundamental canon it takes for granted. The +grounds of causation, why it is true, and how we know it is true, are, +therefore, philosophical questions. + +One may be tempted to enquire whether many of these questions, +especially those connected with the ultimate reality, do not transcend +human faculties altogether, and whether we had not better confine our +enquiries to matters that are not "too high for us." One may question +whether it is possible for finite minds to comprehend the infinite. +Now it is very right that such questions should be asked, and it is +essential that a correct answer should be found. But, for the present, +there is nothing to say about the matter, except that these questions +themselves constitute one of the most important problems of +philosophy, though it is one which, as a matter of fact, has scarcely +been considered in full until modern times. The Greeks did not raise +the question. [Footnote 2] And as this is itself one of the problems +of philosophy, it will be well to start with an open mind. The +question cannot be decided offhand, but must be thoroughly +investigated. That the finite mind of man cannot understand the +infinite is one of those popular dogmatic assertions, which are +bruited about from mouth to mouth, as if they were self-evident, and +so come to tyrannize over men's minds. But for the most part those who +make this statement have never thoroughly sifted the grounds of it, +but simply take it as something universally admitted, and trouble no +further about it. But at the very least we should first know exactly +what {8} we mean by such terms as "mind," "finite," and "infinite." +And we shall not find that our difficulties end even there. + +[Footnote 2: The reasoning of the Sceptics and others no doubt +involved this question. But they did not consider it in its peculiar +modern form.] + + +Philosophy, then, deals with the universe as a whole; and it seeks to +take nothing for granted. A third characteristic may be noted as +especially important, though here no doubt we are trenching upon +matters upon which there is no such universal agreement. Philosophy is +essentially an attempt to rise from sensuous to pure, that is, +non-senuous, thought. This requires some explanation. + +We are conscious, so to speak, of two different worlds, the external +physical world and the internal mental world. If we look outwards we +are aware of the former, if we turn our gaze inwards upon our own +minds we become aware of the latter. It may appear incorrect to say +that the external world is purely physical, for it includes other +minds. I am aware of your mind, and this is, to me, part of the world +which is external to me. But I am not now speaking of what we know by +inference, but only of what we directly perceive. I cannot directly +perceive your mind, but only your physical body. In the last resort it +will be found that I am aware of the existence of your mind only by +inference from perceived physical facts, such as the movements of your +body and the sounds that issue from your lips. The only mind which I +can immediately perceive is my own. There is then a physical world +external to us, and an internal mental world. + +Which of these will naturally be regarded as the most real? Men will +regard as the most real that which is the most familiar, that which +they came first into {9} contact with, and have most experience of. +And this is unquestionably the external material world. When a child +is born, it turns its eyes to the light, which is an external physical +thing. Gradually it gets to know different objects in the room. It +comes to know its mother, but its mother is, in the first instance, a +physical object, a body. It is only long afterwards that its mother +becomes for the child a mind or a soul. In general, all our earliest +experiences are of the material world. We come to know of the mental +world only by introspection, and the habit of introspection comes in +youth or manhood only, and to many people it hardly comes at all. In +all those early impressionable years, therefore, when our most durable +ideas of the universe are formed, we are concerned almost exclusively +with the material world. The mental world with which we are much less +familiar consequently tends to appear to all of us something +comparatively unreal, a world of shadows. The bent of our minds +becomes materialistic. + +What I have said of the individual is equally true of the race. +Primitive man does not brood over the facts of his own mind. Necessity +compels him to devote most of his life to the acquisition of food, and +to warding off the dangers which continually threaten him from other +physical objects. And even among ourselves, the majority of men have +to spend most of their time upon considering various aspects of things +external to them. By the individual training of each man, and by long +hereditary habit, then, it comes about that men tend to regard the +physical world as more real than the mental. + +{10} + +Abundant evidences of this are to be found in the structure of human +language. We seek to explain what is strange by means of what is +well-known. We try to express the unfamiliar in terms of the familiar. +We shall find that language always seeks to express the mental by the +analogy of the physical. We speak of a man as a "clear" thinker. +"Clear" is an attribute of physical objects. Water is clear if it has +no extraneous matter in it. We say that a man's ideas are "luminous," +thus taking a metaphor from physical light. We talk of having an idea +"at the back of the mind." "At the back of"? Has the mind got a front +and a back? We are thinking of it as if it were a physical thing in +space. We speak of mental habits of "attention." "Attention" means +stretching or turning the mind in a special direction. We "reflect." +"Reflection" means bending our thoughts back upon themselves. But, +literally speaking, only physical objects can be stretched, turned, +and bent. Whenever we wish to express something mental we do it by a +physical analogy. We talk of it in terms of physical things. This +shows how deep-rooted our materialism is. If the mental world were +more familiar and real to us than the material, language would have +been constructed on the opposite principle. The earliest words of +language would have expressed mental facts, and we should afterwards +have tried to express physical things by means of mental analogies. + +In the East one commonly hears Oriental idealism contrasted with +Western materialism. Such phrases may possess a certain relative +truth. But if they mean that there is in the East, or anywhere else in +the world, {11} a race of men who are naturally idealists, they are +nonsense. Materialism is ingrained in all men. We, Easterns or +Westerns, are born materialists. Hence when we try to think of objects +which are commonly regarded as non-material, such as God or the soul, +it requires continual effort, a tremendous struggle, to avoid +picturing them as material things. It goes utterly against the grain. +Perhaps hundreds of thousands of years of hereditary materialism are +against us. The popular idea of ghosts will illustrate this. Those who +believe in ghosts, I suppose, regard them as some sort of disembodied +souls. The pictures of ghosts in magazines show them as if composed of +matter, but matter of some _thin_ kind, such as vapour. Certain Indian +systems of thought, which are by way of regarding themselves as +idealistic, nevertheless teach that thought or mind is an extremely +subtle kind of matter, far subtler than any ever dealt with by the +physicist and chemist. This is very interesting, because it shows that +the authors of such ideas feel vaguely that it is wrong to think of +thought as if it were matter, but being unable to think of it in any +other way, owing to man's ingrained materialism, they seek to palliate +their sin by making it thin matter. Of course this is just as absurd +as the excuse made by the mother of an illegitimate child, that it was +a very small one. This thin matter is just as material as lead or +brass. And such systems are purely materialistic. But they illustrate +the extraordinary difficulty that the ordinary mind experiences in +attempting to rise from sensuous to non-sensuous thinking. They +illustrate the ingrained materialism of man. + +This natural human materialism is also the cause {12} of mysticism and +symbolism. A symbolic thought necessarily contains two terms, the +symbol and the reality which it symbolizes. The symbol is always a +sensuous or material object, or the mental image of such an object, +and the reality is always something non-sensuous. Because the human +mind finds it such an incredible struggle to think non-sensuously, it +seeks to help itself by symbols. It takes a material thing and makes +it stand for the non-material thing which it is too weak to grasp. +Thus we talk of God as the "light of lights." No doubt this is a very +natural expression of the religious consciousness, and it has its +meaning. But it is not the naked truth. Light is a physical existence, +and God is no more light than he is heat or electricity. People talk +of symbolism as if it were a very high and exalted thing. They say, +"What a wonderful piece of symbolism!" But, in truth symbolism is the +mark of an infirm mind. It is the measure of our weakness and not of +our strength. Its root is in materialism, and it is produced and +propagated by those who are unable to rise above a materialistic +level. + +Now philosophy is essentially the attempt to get beyond this sort of +symbolic and mystical thinking, to get at the naked truth, to grasp +what lies behind the symbol as it is in itself. These inferior modes +of thought are a help to those who are themselves below their level, +but are a hindrance to those who seek to reach the highest level of +truth. + +It is often said that philosophy is a very difficult and abstruse +subject. Its difficulty lies almost wholly in the struggle to think +non-sensuously. Whenever we {13} come to anything in philosophy that +seems beyond us, we shall generally find that the root of the trouble +is that we are trying to think non-sensuous objects in a sensuous way, +that is, we are trying to form mental pictures and images of them, for +all mental pictures are composed of sensuous materials, and hence no +such picture is adequate for a pure thought. It is impossible to +exaggerate this difficulty. Even the greatest philosophers have +succumbed to it. We shall constantly have to point out that when a +great thinker, such as Parmenides or Plato, fails, and begins to +flounder in difficulties, the reason usually is that, though for a +time he has attained to pure thought, he has sunk back exhausted into +sensuous thinking, and has attempted to form mental pictures of what +is beyond the power of any such picture to represent, and so has +fallen into contradictions. We must keep this constantly in mind in +the study of philosophy. + +In modern times philosophy is variously divided, as into metaphysics, +which is the theory of reality, ethics, the theory of the good, and +aesthetics, the theory of the beautiful. Modern divisions do not, +however, altogether fit in with Greek philosophy, and it is better to +let the natural divisions develop themselves as we go on, than to +attempt to force our material into these moulds. + +If, now, we look round the world and ask; in what countries and what +ages the kind of thought we have described has attained a high degree +of development, we shall find such a development only in ancient +Greece and in modern Europe. There were great civilizations in Egypt, +China, Assyria, and so on. They produced art and religion, but no +philosophy to speak of. Even {14} ancient Rome added nothing to the +world's philosophical knowledge. Its so-called philosophers, Marcus +Aurelius, Seneca, Epictetus, Lucretius, produced no essentially new +principle. They were merely disciples of Greek Schools, whose writings +may be full of interest and of noble feeling, but whose essential +thoughts contained nothing not already developed by the Greeks. + +The case of India is more doubtful. Opinions may differ as to whether +India ever had any philosophy. The Upanishads contain +religio-philosophical thinking of a kind. And later we have the six +so-called schools of philosophy. The reasons why this Indian thought +is not usually included in histories of philosophy are as follows. +Firstly, philosophy in India has never separated itself from religious +and practical needs. The ideal of knowledge for its own sake is rarely +to be found. Knowledge is desired merely as a means towards salvation. +Philosophy and science, said Aristotle, have their roots in +wonder,--the desire to know and understand for the sole sake of +knowing and understanding. But the roots of Indian thought lie in the +anxiety of the individual to escape from the ills and calamities of +existence. This is not the scientific, but the practical spirit. It +gives birth to religions, but not to philosophies. Of course it is a +mistake to imagine that philosophy and religion are totally separate +and have no community. They are in fact fundamentally akin. But they +are also distinct. Perhaps the truest view is that they are identical +in substance, but different in form. The substance of both is the +absolute reality and the relation of all things, including men, to +that reality. But whereas philosophy presents this subject-matter +scientifically, in {15} the form of pure thought, religion gives it in +the form of sensuous pictures, myths, images, and symbols. + +And this gives us the second reason why Indian thought is more +properly classed as religious than philosophical. It seldom or never +rises from sensuous to pure thought. It is poetical rather than +scientific. It is content with symbols and metaphors in place of +rational explanations, and all this is a mark of the religious, rather +than the philosophical, presentation of the truth. For example, the +main thought of the Upanishads is that the entire universe is derived +from a single, changeless, eternal, infinite, being, called Brahman or +Paramatman. When we come to the crucial question how the universe +arises out of this being, we find such passages as this:--"As the +colours in the flame or the red-hot iron proceed therefrom a +thousand-fold, so do all beings proceed from the Unchangeable, and +return again to it." Or again, "As the web issues from the spider, as +little sparks proceed from fire, so from the one soul proceed all +living animals, all worlds, all the gods and all beings." There are +thousands of such passages in the Upanishads. But obviously these +neither explain nor attempt to explain anything. They are nothing but +hollow metaphors. They are poetic rather than scientific. They may +satisfy the imagination and the religious feelings, but not the +rational understanding. Or when again Krishna, in the Bhagavat-Gita, +describes himself as the moon among the lunar mansions, the sun among +the stars, Meru among the high-peaked mountains, it is clear that we +are merely piling sensuous image upon sensuous image without any +further understanding of what the nature of the absolute being in its +own self is. {16} The moon, the sun, Meru, are physical sense-objects. +And this is totally sensuous thinking, whereas the aim of philosophy +is to rise to pure thought. In such passages we are still on the level +of symbolism, and philosophy only begins when symbolism has been +surpassed. No doubt it is possible to take the line that man's thought +is not capable of grasping the infinite as it is in itself, and can +only fall back upon symbols. But that is another question, and at any +rate, whether it is or is not possible to rise from sensuous to pure +thought, philosophy is essentially the attempt to do so. + +Lastly, Indian thought is usually excluded from the history of +philosophy because, whatever its character, it lies outside the main +stream of human development. It has been cut off by geographical and +other barriers. Consequently, whatever its value in itself, it has +exerted little influence upon philosophy in general. + +The claim is sometimes put forward by Orientals themselves that Greek +philosophy came from India, and if this were true, it would greatly +affect the statement made in the last paragraph. But it is not true. +It used to be believed that Greek philosophy came from "the East," but +this meant Egypt. And even this theory is now abandoned. Greek +culture, especially mathematics and astronomy, owed much to Egypt. But +Greece did not owe its philosophy to that source. The view that it did +was propagated by Alexandrian priests and others, whose sole motive +was, that to represent the triumphs of Greek philosophy as borrowed +from Egypt, flattered their national vanity. It was a great thing, +wherever they found anything good, to say, "this must have come from +us." A precisely similar motive lies behind the {17} Oriental claim +that Greek philosophy came from India. There is not a scrap of +evidence for it, and it rests entirely upon the supposed resemblance +between the two. But this resemblance is in fact mythical. The whole +character of Greek philosophy is European and unoriental to the +back-bone. The doctrine of re-incarnation is usually appealed to. This +characteristically Indian doctrine was held by the Pythagoreans, from +whom it passed to Empedocles and Plato. The Pythagoreans got it from +the Orphic sect, to whom quite possibly it came indirectly from India, +although even this is by no means certain, and is in fact highly +doubtful. But even if this be true, it proves nothing. Re-incarnation +is of little importance in Greek philosophy. Even in Plato, who makes +much of it, it is quite unessential to the fundamental ideas of his +philosophy, and is only artificially connected with them. And the +influence of this doctrine upon Plato's philosophy was thoroughly bad. +It was largely responsible for leading him into the main error of his +philosophy, which it required an Aristotle to correct. All this will +be evident when we come to consider the systems of Plato and +Aristotle. + +The origin of Greek philosophy is not to be found in India, or Egypt, +or in any country outside Greece. The Greeks themselves were solely +responsible for it. It is not as if history traces back their thought +only to a point at which it was already highly developed, and cannot +explain its beginnings. We know its history from the time, so to +speak, when it was in the cradle. In the next two chapters we shall +see that the first Greek attempts at philosophising were so much the +beginnings of a beginner, were so very crude and unformed, that it is +{18} mere perversity to suppose that they could not make these simple +efforts for themselves. From those crude beginnings we can trace the +whole development in detail up to its culmination in Aristotle, and +beyond. So there is no need to assume foreign influence at any point. + +Greek philosophy begins in the sixth century before Christ. It begins +when men for the first time attempted to give a scientific reply to +the question, "what is the explanation of the world?" Before this era +we have, of course, the mythologies, cosmogonies, and theologies of +the poets. But they contain no attempt at a naturalistic explanation +of things. They belong to the spheres of poetry and religion, not to +philosophy. + +It must not be supposed, when we speak of the philosophy of Greece, +that we refer only to the mainland of what is now called Greece. Very +early in history, Greeks of the mainland migrated to the islands of +the Aegean, to Sicily, to the South of Italy, to the coast of Asia +Minor, and elsewhere, and founded flourishing colonies. The Greece of +philosophy includes all these places. It is to be thought of rather +racially than territorially. It is the philosophy of the men of Greek +race, wherever they happened to be situated. And in fact the first +period of Greek philosophy deals exclusively with the thoughts of +these colonial Greeks. It was not till just before the time of +Socrates that philosophy was transplanted to the mainland. + +Greek philosophy falls naturally into three periods. The first may be +roughly described as pre-Socratic philosophy, though it does not +include the Sophists who were both the contemporaries and the +predecessors of Socrates. This period is the rise of Greek philosophy. +{19} Secondly, the period from the Sophists to Aristotle, which +includes Socrates and Plato, is the maturity of Greek philosophy, the +actual zenith and culmination of which is undoubtedly the system of +Aristotle. Lastly, the period of post-Aristotelian philosophy +constitutes the decline and fall of the national thought. These are +not merely arbitrary divisions. Each period has its own special +characters, which will be described in the sequel. + +A few words must be said of the sources of our knowledge of +pre-Socratic philosophy. If we want to know what Plato and Aristotle +thought about any matter, we have only to consult their works. But the +works of the earlier philosophers have not come down to us, except in +fragments, and several of them never committed their opinions to +writing. Our knowledge of their doctrines is the result of the +laborious sifting by scholars of such materials as are available. +Luckily the material has been plentiful. It may be divided into three +classes. First come the fragments of the original writings of the +philosophers themselves. These are in many cases long and important, +in other cases scanty. Secondly, there are the references in Plato and +Aristotle. Of these by far the most important are to be found in the +first book of Aristotle's "Metaphysics," which is a history of +philosophy up to his own time, and is the first attempt on record to +write a history of philosophy. Thirdly, there is an enormous mass of +references, some valuable, some worthless, contained in the works of +later, but still ancient, writers. + +{20} + +CHAPTER II + +THE IONICS. + + + +The earliest Greek philosophers belong to what in after times came to +be called the Ionic school. The name was derived from the fact that +the three chief representatives of this school, Thales, Anaximander, +and Anaximenes, were all men of Ionia, that is to say, the coast of +Asia Minor. + + + +Thales + +As the founder of the earliest school in history, Thales of Miletus is +generally accounted the founder and father of all philosophy. He was +born about 624 B.C. and died about 550 B.C. These dates are +approximate, and it should be understood that the same thing is true +of nearly all the dates of the early philosophers. Different scholars +vary, sometimes as much as ten years, in the dates they give. We shall +not enter into these questions at all, because they are of no +importance. And throughout these lectures it should be understood that +the dates given are approximate. + +Thales, at any rate, was a contemporary of Solon and Croesus. He was +famous in antiquity for his mathematical and astronomical learning, +and also for his practical sagacity and wisdom. He is included in {21} +all the accounts of the Seven Sages. The story of the Seven Sages is +unhistorical, but the fact that the lists of their names differ +considerably as given by different writers, whereas the name of Thales +appears in all, shows with what veneration he was anciently regarded. +An eclipse of the sun occurred in 585 B.C., and Thales is alleged to +have predicted it, which was a feat for the astronomy of those times. +And he must have been a great engineer, for he caused a diversion of +the river Halys, when Croesus and his army were unable to cross it. +Nothing else is known of his life, though there were many apocryphal +stories. + +No writings by Thales were extant even in the time of Aristotle, and +it is believed that he wrote nothing. His philosophy, if we can call +it by that name, consisted, so far as we know, of two propositions. +Firstly, that the principle of all things is water, that all comes +from water, and to water all returns. And secondly, that the earth is +a flat disc which floats upon water. The first, which is the chief +proposition, means that water is the one primal kind of existence and +that everything else in the universe is merely a modification of +water. Two questions will naturally occur to us. Why did Thales choose +water as the first principle? And by what process does water, in his +opinion, come to be changed into other things; how was the universe +formed out of water? We cannot answer either of these questions with +certainty. Aristotle says that Thales "probably derived his opinion +from observing that the nutriment of all things is moist, and that +even actual heat is generated therefrom, and that animal life is +sustained by water, ... and from the fact that the seeds of all things +possess {22} a moist nature, and that water is a first principle of +all things that are humid." This is very likely the true explanation. +But it will be noted that even Aristotle uses the word "probably," and +so gives his statement merely as a conjecture. How, in the opinion of +Thales, the universe arose out of water, is even more uncertain. Most +likely he never asked himself the question, and gave no explanation. +At any rate nothing is known on the point. + +This being the sum and substance of the teaching of Thales, we may +naturally ask why, on account of such a crude and undeveloped idea, he +should be given the title of the father of philosophy. Why should +philosophy be said to begin here in particular? Now, the significance +of Thales is not that his water-philosophy has any value in itself, +but that this was the first recorded attempt to explain the universe +on naturalistic and scientific principles, without the aid of myths +and anthropomorphic gods. Moreover, Thales propounded the problem, and +determined the direction and character, of all pre-Socratic +philosophy. The fundamental thought of that period was, that under the +multiplicity of the world there must be a single ultimate principle. +The problem of all philosophers from Thales to Anaxagoras was, what is +the nature of that first principle from which all things have issued? +Their systems are all attempts to answer this question, and may be +classified according to their different replies. Thus Thales asserted +that the ultimate reality is water, Anaximander indefinite matter, +Anaximenes air, the Pythagoreans number, the Eleatics Being, +Heracleitus fire, Empedocles the four elements, Democritus atoms, and +so on. The first period is thus {23} essentially cosmological in +character, and it was Thales who determined the character. His +importance is that he was the first to propound the question, not that +he gave any rational reply to it. + +We saw in the first chapter, that man is naturally a materialist, and +that philosophy is the movement from sensuous to non-sensuous thought. +As we should expect, then, philosophy begins in materialism. The first +answer to the question, what the ultimate reality is, places the +nature of that reality in a sensuous object, water. The other members +of the Ionic school, Anaximander, and Anaximenes, are also +materialists. And from their time onwards we can trace the gradual +rise of thought, with occasional breaks and relapses, from this +sensualism of the Ionics, through the semi-sensuous idealism of the +Eleatics, to the highest point of pure non-sensuous thought, the +idealism of Plato and Aristotle. It is important to keep in mind, +then, that the history of philosophy is not a mere chaotic hotch-potch +of opinions and theories, succeeding each other without connection or +order. It is a logical and historical evolution, each step in which is +determined by the last, and advances beyond the last towards a +definite goal. The goal, of course, is visible to us, but was not +visible to the early thinkers themselves. + +Since man begins by looking outwards upon the external world and not +inwards upon his own self, this fact too determines the character of +the first period of Greek philosophy. It concerns itself solely with +nature, with the external world, and only with man as a part of +nature. It demands an explanation of nature. And this is the same as +saying that it is cosmological. The {24} problems of man, of life, of +human destiny, of ethics, are treated by it scantily, or not at all. +It is not till the time of the Sophists that the Greek spirit turns +inwards upon itself and begins to consider these problems, and with +the emergence of that point of view we have passed from the first to +the second period of Greek philosophy. + +Because the Ionic philosophers were all materialists they are also +sometimes called Hylicists, from the Greek _hulé_ which means matter. + + + +Anaximander + +The next philosopher of the Ionic school is Anaximander. He was an +exceedingly original and audacious thinker. He was probably born about +611 B.C. and died about 547. He was an inhabitant of Miletus, and is +said to have been a disciple of Thales. It will be seen, thus, that he +was a younger contemporary of Thales. He was born at the time that +Thales was flourishing, and was about a generation younger. He was the +first Greek to write a philosophic treatise, which however has been +unfortunately lost. He was eminent for his astronomical and +geographical knowledge, and in this connection was the first to +construct a map. Details of his life are not known. + +Now Thales had made the ultimate principle of the universe, water. +Anaximander agrees with Thales that the ultimate principle of things +is material, but he does not name it water, does not in fact believe +that it is any particular kind of matter. It is rather a formless, +indefinite, and absolutely featureless matter in general. {25} Matter, +as we know it, is always some particular kind of matter. It must be +iron, brass, water, air, or other such. The difference between the +different kinds of matter is qualitative, that is to say, we know that +air is air because it has the qualities of air and differs from iron +because iron has the qualities of iron, and so on. The primeval matter +of Anaximander is just matter not yet sundered into the different +kinds of matter. It is therefore formless and characterless. And as it +is thus indeterminate in quality, so it is illimitable in quantity. +Anaximander believed that this matter stretches out to infinity +through space. The reason he gave for this opinion was, that if there +were a limited amount of matter it would long ago have been used up in +the creation and destruction of the "innumerable worlds." Hence he +called it "the boundless." In regard to these "innumerable worlds," +the traditional opinion about Anaximander was that he believed these +worlds to succeed each other in time, and that first a world was +created, developed, and was destroyed, then another world arose, was +developed and destroyed, and that this periodic revolution of worlds +went on for ever. Professor Burnet, however, is of opinion that the +"innumerable worlds" of Anaximander were not necessarily successive but +rather simultaneously existing worlds. According to this view there +may be any number of worlds existing at the same time. But, even so, +it is still true that these worlds were not everlasting, but began, +developed and decayed, giving place in due time to other worlds. + +How, now, have these various worlds been formed out of the formless, +indefinite, indeterminate matter of {26} Anaximander? On this question +Anaximander is vague and has nothing very definite to put forward. +Indeterminate matter by a vaguely conceived process separates itself +into "the hot" and "the cold." The cold is moist or damp. This cold +and moist matter becomes the earth, in the centre of the universe. The +hot matter collects into a sphere of fire surrounding the earth. The +earth in the centre was originally fluid. The heat of the surrounding +sphere caused the waters of the earth progressively to evaporate +giving rise to the envelope of air which surrounds the earth. For the +early Greeks regarded the air and vapour as the same thing. As this +air or vapour expanded under the action of heat it burst the outside +hot sphere of fire into a series of enormous "wheel-shaped husks," +resembling cart wheels, which encircle the earth. You may naturally +ask how it is that if these are composed of fire we do not see them +continually glowing. Anaximander's answer was that these wheel-shaped +husks are encrusted with thick, opaque vapour, which conceals the +inner fire from our view. But there are apertures, or pipe-like holes +in the vapour-crust, and through these the fire gleams, causing the +appearance of the sun, stars, and moon. You will note that the moon +was, on this theory, considered to be fiery, and not, as we now know +it to be, a cold surface reflecting the sun's light. There were three +of these "cart wheels"; the first was that of the sun, furthest away +from the earth, nearer to us was that of the moon, and closest of all +was that of the fixed stars. The "wheel-shaped husks" containing the +heavenly bodies are revolved round the earth by means of currents of +air. The earth in the centre was believed by {27} Anaximander to be +not spherical but cylindrical. Men live on the top end of this pillar +or cylinder. + +Anaximander also developed a striking theory about the origin and +evolution of living beings. In the beginning the earth was fluid and +in the gradual drying up by evaporation of this fluid, living beings +were produced from the heat and moisture. In the first instance these +beings were of a low order. They gradually evolved into successively +higher and higher organisms by means of adaptation to their +environment. Man was in the first instance a fish living in the water. +The gradual drying up left parts of the earth high and dry, and marine +animals migrated to the land, and their fins by adaptation became +members fitted for movement on land. The resemblance of this primitive +theory to modern theories of evolution is remarkable. It is easy to +exaggerate its importance, but it is at any rate clear that +Anaximander had, by a happy guess, hit upon the central idea of +adaptation of species to their environment. + +The teaching of Anaximander exhibits a marked advance beyond the +position of Thales. Thales had taught that the first principle of +things is water. The formless matter of Anaximander is, +philosophically, an advance on this, showing the operation of thought +and abstraction. Secondly, Anaximander had definitely attempted to +apply this idea, and to derive from it the existent world. Thales had +left the question how the primal water developed into a world, +entirely unanswered. + + + +Anaximenes + +Like the two previous thinkers Anaximenes was an inhabitant of +Miletus. He was born about 588 B.C. and {28} died about 524. He wrote +a treatise of which a small fragment still remains. He agreed with +Thales and Anaximander that the first principle of the universe is +material. With Thales too, he looked upon it as a particular kind of +matter, not indeterminate matter as taught by Anaximander. Thales had +declared it to be water. Anaximenes named air as first principle. This +air, like the matter of Anaximander, stretches illimitably through +space. Air is constantly in motion and has the power of motion +inherent in it and this motion brought about the development of the +universe from air. As operating process of this development Anaximenes +named the two opposite processes of (1) Rarefaction, (2) Condensation. +Rarefaction is the same thing as heat or growing hot, and condensation +is identified with growing cold. The air by rarefaction becomes fire, +and fire borne aloft upon the air becomes the stars. By the opposite +process of condensation, air first becomes clouds and, by further +degrees of condensation, becomes successively water, earth, and rocks. +The world resolves again in the course of time into the primal air. +Anaximenes, like Anaximander, held the theory of "innumerable worlds," +and these worlds are, according to the traditional view, successive. +But here again Professor Burnet considers that the innumerable worlds +may have been co-existent as well as successive. Anaximenes considered +the earth to be a flat disc floating upon air. + +The origin of the air theory of Anaximenes seems to have been +suggested to him by the fact that air in the form of breath is the +principle of life. + +The teaching of Anaximenes seems at first sight to be {29} a falling +off from the position of Anaximander, because he goes back to the +position of Thales in favour of a determinate matter as first +principle. But in one respect at least there is here an advance upon +Anaximander. The latter had been vague as to how formless matter +differentiates itself into the world of objects. Anaximenes names the +definite processes of rarefaction and condensation. If you believe, as +these early physicists did, that every different kind of matter is +ultimately one kind of matter, the problem of the differentiation of +the qualities of the existent elements arises. For example, if this +paper is really composed of air, how do we account for its colour, its +hardness, texture, etc. Either these qualities must be originally in +the primal air, or not. If the qualities existed in it then it was not +really one homogeneous matter like air, but must have been simply a +mixture of different kinds of matter. If not, how do these properties +arise? How can this air which has not in it the qualities of things we +see, develop them? The simplest way of getting out of the difficulty +is to found quality upon quantity, and to explain the former by the +amount or quantity, more or less, of matter existent in the same +volume. This is precisely what is meant by rarefaction and +condensation. Condensation would result in compressing more matter +into the same volume. Rarefaction would give rise to the opposite +process. Great compression of air, a great amount of it in a small +space, might account for the qualities, say, of earth and stones, for +example, their heaviness, hardness, colour, etc. + +Hence Anaximenes was to some extent a more logical and definite +thinker than Anaximander, but cannot {30} compare with him in audacity +and originality of thought. + + + +Other Ionic Thinkers + +We have now considered the three chief thinkers of the Ionic School. +Others there were, but they added nothing new to the teaching of these +three. They followed either Thales or Anaximenes in stating the first +principle of the world either as water or as air. Hippo, for example, +followed Thales, and for him the world is composed of water, Idaeus +agreed with Anaximenes that it is derived from air. Diogenes of +Apollonia is chiefly remarkable for the fact that he lived at a very +much later date. He was a contemporary of Anaxagoras, and opposed to +the more developed teachings of that philosopher the crude materialism +of the Ionic School. Air was by him considered to be the ground of all +things. + +{31} + +CHAPTER III + +THE PYTHAGOREANS + +Not much is known of the life of Pythagoras. Three so-called +biographies have come down to us from antiquity, but they were written +hundreds of years after the event, and are filled with a tissue of +extravagant fancies, and with stories of miracles and wonders worked +by Pythagoras. All sorts of fantastic legends seem to have gathered +very early around his life, obscuring from us the actual historical +details. A few definite facts, however, are known. He was born +somewhere between 580 and 570 B.C. at Samos, and about middle age he +migrated to Crotona in South Italy. According to legend, before he +arrived in South Italy he had travelled extensively in Egypt and other +countries of the East. There is, however, no historical evidence of +this. There is nothing in itself improbable in the belief that +Pythagoras made these travels, but it cannot be accepted as proved for +lack of evidence. The legend is really founded simply upon the +oriental flavour of his doctrines. In middle age he arrived in South +Italy and settled at Crotona. There he founded the Pythagorean Society +and lived for many years at the head of it. His later life, the date +and manner of his death, are not certainly known. + +Now it is important to note that the Pythagorean {32} Society was not +primarily a school of philosophy at all. It was really a religious and +moral Order, a Society of religious reformers. The Pythagoreans were +closely associated with the Orphic Sect, and took from it the belief +in the transmigration of souls, including transmigration of human +souls into animals. They also taught the doctrine of the "wheel of +things," and the necessity of obtaining "release" from it, by which +one could escape from the weary round of reincarnate lives. Thus they +shared with the Orphic religious Sect the principle of reincarnation. +The Orphic Sect believed that "release" from the wheel of life was to +be obtained by religious ceremonial and ritual. The Pythagoreans had a +similar ritual, but they added to this the belief that intellectual +pursuits, the cultivation of science and philosophy, and, in general, +the intellectual contemplation of the ultimate things of the universe +would be of great help towards the "release" of the soul. From this +arose the tendency to develop science and philosophy. Gradually their +philosophy attained a semi-independence from their religious rites +which justifies us in regarding it definitely as philosophy. + +The Pythagorean ethical views were rigorous and ascetic in character. +They insisted upon the utmost purity of life in the members of the +Order. Abstinence from flesh was insisted upon, although this was +apparently a late development. We know that Pythagoras himself was not +a total abstainer from flesh. They forbade the eating of beans. They +wore a garb peculiar to themselves. The body, they taught, is the +prison or tomb of the soul. They thought that one must not attempt to +obtain "release" by suicide, because "man is the {33} property of +God," the chattel of God. They were not politicians in the modern +sense, but their procedure in practice amounted to the greatest +possible interference in politics. It appears that the Pythagoreans +attempted to impose their ordinances upon the ordinary citizens of +Crotona. They aimed at the supersession of the State by their own +Order and they did actually capture the government of Crotona for a +short period. This led to attacks on the Order, and the persecution of +its members. When the plain citizen of Crotona was told not to eat +beans, and that under no circumstances could he eat his own dog, this +was too much. A general persecution occurred. The meeting place of the +Pythagoreans was burnt to the ground, the Society was scattered, and +its members killed or driven away. This occurred between the years 440 +and 430 B.C. Some years later the Society revived and continued its +activities, but we do not hear much of it after the fourth century +B.C. + +It was largely a mystical society. The Pythagoreans developed their +own ritual, ceremonial and mysteries. This love of mystery, and their +general character as miracle-mongers, largely account for the legends +which grew up around the life of Pythagoras himself. Their scientific +activities were also considerable. They enforced moral self-control. +They cultivated the arts and crafts, gymnastics, music, medicine, and +mathematics. The development of mathematics in early Greece was +largely the work of the Pythagoreans. Pythagoras is said to have +discovered the 47th Proposition of Euclid, and to have sacrificed an +ox in honour thereof. And there is good reason to believe that +practically the whole of the substance of the First Book of Euclid is +the work of Pythagoras. + +{34} + +Turning now to their philosophical teaching, the first thing that we +have to understand is that we cannot speak of the philosophy of +Pythagoras, but only of the philosophy of the Pythagoreans. For it is +not known what share Pythagoras had in this philosophy or what share +was contributed by his successors. Now we recognize objects in the +universe by means of their qualities. But the majority of these +qualities are not universal in their scope; some things possess some +qualities; others possess others. A leaf, for example, is green, but +not all things are green. Some things have no colour at all. The same +is true of tastes and smells. Some things are sweet; some bitter. But +there is one quality in things which is absolutely universal in its +scope, which applies to everything in the universe--corporeal or +incorporeal. All things are _numerable_, and can be counted. Moreover, +it is impossible to conceive a universe in which number is not to be +found. You could easily imagine a universe in which there is no +colour, or no sweet taste, or a universe in which nothing possesses +weight. But you cannot imagine a universe in which there is no number. +This is an inconceivable thought. Upon these grounds we should be +justified in concluding that number is an extremely important aspect +of things, and forms a fundamental pad of the framework of the world. +And it is upon this aspect of things that the Pythagoreans laid +emphasis. + +They drew attention to proportion, order, and harmony as the dominant +notes of the universe. Now when we examine the ideas of proportion, +order, and harmony, we shall see that they are closely connected with +number. Proportion, for example, must necessarily {35} be expressible +by the relation of one number to another. Similarly order is +measurable by numbers. When we say that the ranks of a regiment +exhibit order, we mean that they are arranged in such a way that the +soldiers stand at certain regular distances from each other, and these +distances are measurable by numbers of feet or inches. Lastly, +consider the idea of harmony. If, in modern times, we were to say that +the universe is a harmonious whole, we should understand that we are +merely using a metaphor from music. But the Pythagoreans lived in an +age when men were not practised in thought, and they confused cosmical +harmony with musical harmony. They thought that the two things were +the same. Now musical harmony is founded upon numbers, and the +Pythagoreans were the first to discover this. The difference of notes +is due to the different numbers of vibrations of the sounding +instrument. The musical intervals are likewise based upon numerical +proportions. So that since, for the Pythagoreans, the universe is a +musical harmony, it follows that the essential character of the +universe is number. The study of mathematics confirmed the +Pythagoreans in this idea. Arithmetic is the science of numbers, and +all other mathematical sciences are ultimately reducible to numbers. +For instance, in geometry, angles are measured by the number of +degrees. + +Now, as already pointed out, considering all these facts, we might +well be justified in concluding that number is a very important aspect +of the universe, and is fundamental in it. But the Pythagoreans went +much further than this. They drew what seems to us the extraordinary +conclusion that the world is _made of_ {36} numbers. At this point, +then, we reach the heart of the Pythagorean philosophy. Just as Thales +had said that the ultimate reality, the first principle of which +things are composed, is water, so now the Pythagoreans teach that the +first principle of things is number. Number is the world-ground, the +stuff out of which the universe is made. + +In the detailed application of this principle to the world of things +we have a conglomeration of extraordinary fancies and extravagances. +In the first place, all numbers arise out of the unit. This is the +prime number, every other number being simply so many units. The unit +then is the first in the order of things in the universe. Again, +numbers are divided into odd and even. The universe, said the +Pythagoreans, is composed of pairs of opposites and contradictories, +and the fundamental character of these opposites is that they are +composed of the odd and even. The odd and even, moreover, they +identified with the limited and the unlimited respectively. How this +identification was made seems somewhat doubtful. But it is clearly +connected with the theory of bipartition. An even number can be +divided by two and therefore it does not set a limit to bipartition. +Hence it is unlimited. An odd number cannot be divided by two, and +therefore it sets a limit to bipartition. The limited and the +unlimited become therefore the ultimate principles of the universe. +The Limit is identified with the unit, and this again with the central +fire of the universe. The Limit is first formed and proceeds to draw +more and more of the unlimited towards itself, and to limit it. +Becoming limited, it becomes a definite "something," a thing. So the +formation of the {37} world of things proceeds. The Pythagoreans drew +up a list of ten opposites of which the universe is composed. They are +(1) Limited and unlimited, (2) odd and even, (3) one and many, (4) +right and left, (5) masculine and feminine, (6) rest and motion, (7) +straight and crooked, (8) light and darkness, (9) good and evil, (10) +square and oblong. + +With the further development of the number-theory Pythagoreanism +becomes entirely arbitrary and without principle. We hear, for +example, that 1 is the point, 2 is the line, 3 is the plane, 4 is the +solid, 5 physical qualities, 6 animation, 7 intelligence, health, +love, wisdom. There is no principle in all this. Identification of the +different numbers with different things can only be left to the whim +and fancy of the individual. The Pythagoreans disagreed among +themselves as to what number is to be assigned to what thing. For +example, justice, they said, is that which returns equal for equal. If +I do a man an injury, justice ordains that injury should be done to +me, thus giving equal for equal. Justice must, therefore, be a number +which returns equal for equal. Now the only numbers which do this are +square numbers. Four equals two into two, and so returns equal for +equal. Four, then, must be justice. But nine is equally the square of +three. Hence other Pythagoreans identified justice with nine. + +According to Philolaus, one of the most prominent Pythagoreans, the +quality of matter depends upon the number of sides of its smallest +particles. Of the five regular solids, three were known to the +Pythagoreans. That matter whose smallest particles are regular +tetrahedra, said Philolaus, is fire. Similarly earth is composed {38} +of cubes, and the universe is identified with the dodecahedron. This +idea was developed further by Plato in the "Timaeus," where we find +all the five regular solids brought into the theory. + +The central fire, already mentioned as identified with the unit, is a +characteristic doctrine of the Pythagoreans. Up to this time it had +been believed that the earth is the centre of the universe, and that +everything revolves round it. But with the Pythagoreans the earth +revolves round the central fire. One feels inclined at once to +identify this with the sun. But this is not correct. The sun, like the +earth, revolves round the central fire. We do not see the central fire +because that side of the earth on which we live is perpetually turned +away from it. This involves the theory that the earth revolves round +the central fire in the same period that it takes to rotate upon its +axis. The Pythagoreans were the first to see that the earth is itself +one of the planets, and to shake themselves free from the geocentric +hypothesis. Round the central fire, sometimes mystically called "the +Hearth of the Universe," revolve ten bodies. First is the +"counter-earth," a non-existent body invented by the Pythagoreans, +next comes the earth, then the sun, the moon, the five planets, and +lastly the heaven of the fixed stars. This curious system might have +borne fruit in astronomy. That it did not do so was largely due to the +influence of Aristotle, who discountenanced the theory, and insisted +that the earth is the centre of the universe. But in the end the +Pythagorean view won the day. We know that Copernicus derived the +suggestion of his heliocentric hypothesis from the Pythagoreans. + +{39} + +The Pythagoreans also taught "The Great Year," probably a period of +10,000 years, in which the world comes into being and passes away, +going in each such period through the same evolution down to the +smallest details. + +There is little to be said by way of criticism of the Pythagorean +system. It is entirely crude philosophy. The application of the number +theory issues in a barren and futile arithmetical mysticism. Hegel's +words in this connection are instructive:-- + +"We may certainly," he says, "feel ourselves prompted to associate the +most general characteristics of thought with the first numbers: saying +one is the simple and immediate, two is difference and mediation, and +three the unity of both these. Such associations however are purely +external; there is nothing in the mere numbers to make them express +these definite thoughts. With every step in this method, the more +arbitrary grows the association of definite numbers with definite +thoughts ... To attach, as do some secret societies of modern times, +importance to all sorts of numbers and figures is, to some extent an +innocent amusement, but it is also a sign of deficiency of +intellectual resource. These numbers, it is said, conceal a profound +meaning, and suggest a deal to think about. But the point in +philosophy is not what you may think but what you do think; and the +genuine air of thought is to be sought in thought itself and not in +arbitrarily selected symbols." [Footnote 3] + +[Footnote 3: Hegel's _Smaller Logic_, translated by Wallace, second +edition, page 198.] + + + +{40} + +CHAPTER IV + +THE ELEATICS + +The Eleatics are so called because the seat of their school was at +Elea, a town in South Italy, and Parmenides and Zeno, the two chief +representatives of the school, were both citizens of Elea. So far we +have been dealing with crude systems of thought in which only the +germs of philosophic thinking can be dimly discerned. Now, however, +with the Eleatics we step out definitely for the first time upon the +platform of philosophy. Eleaticism is the first true philosophy. In it +there emerges the first factor of the truth, however poor, meagre, and +inadequate. For philosophy is not, as many persons suppose, simply a +collection of freak speculations, which we may study in historical +order, but at the end of which, God alone knows which we ought to +believe. On the contrary, the history of philosophy presents a +definite line of evolution. The truth unfolds itself gradually in +time. + + + +Xenophanes + +The reputed founder of the Eleatic School was Xenophanes. It is, +however, doubtful whether Xenophanes ever went to Elea. Moreover, he +belongs more properly {41} to the history of religion than to the +history of philosophy. The real creator of the Eleatic School was +Parmenides. But Parmenides seized upon certain germs of thought latent +in Xenophanes and transmuted them into philosophic principles. We +have, therefore, in the first instance, to say something of +Xenophanes. He was born about the year 576 B.C., at Colophon in Ionia. +His long life was spent in wandering up and down the cities of Hellas, +as a poet and minstrel, singing songs at banquets and festivals. +Whether, as sometimes stated; he finally settled at Elea is a matter +of doubt, but we know definitely that at the advanced age of +ninety-two he was still wandering about Greece. His philosophy, such +as it is, is expressed in poems. He did not, however, write +philosophical poems, but rather elegies and satires upon various +subjects, only incidentally expressing his religious views therein. +Fragments of these poems have come down to us. + +Xenophanes is the originator of the quarrel between philosophy and +religion. He attacked the popular religious notions of the Greeks with +a view to founding a purer and nobler conception of Deity. Popular +Greek religion consisted of a belief in a number of gods who were +conceived very much as in the form of human beings. Xenophanes attacks +this conception of God as possessing human form. It is absurd, he +says, to suppose that the gods wander about from place to place, as +represented in the Greek legends. It is absurd to suppose that the +gods had a beginning. It is disgraceful to impute to them stories of +fraud, adultery, theft and deceit. And Xenophanes inveighs against +Homer and Hesiod for disseminating these degrading conceptions {42} of +the Deity. He argues, too, against the polytheistic notion of a +plurality of gods. That which is divine can only be one. There can +only be one best. Therefore, God is to be conceived as one. And this +God is comparable to mortals neither in bodily form nor understanding. +He is "all eye, all ear, all thought." It is he "who, without trouble, +by his thought governs all things." But it would be a mistake to +suppose that Xenophanes thought of this God as a being external to the +world, governing it from the outside, as a general governs his +soldiers. On the contrary, Xenophanes identified God with the world. +The world is God, a sentient being, though without organs of sense. +Looking out into the wide heavens, he said, "The One is God." +[Footnote 4] The thought of Xenophanes is therefore more properly +described as pantheism than as monotheism. God is unchangeable, +immutable, undivided, unmoved, passionless, undisturbed. Xenophanes +appears, thus, rather as a religious reformer than as a philosopher. +Nevertheless, inasmuch as he was the first to enunciate the +proposition "All is one," he takes his place in philosophy. It was +upon this thought that Parmenides built the foundations of the Eleatic +philosophy. + +[Footnote 4: Aristotle, _Metaphysics_, Book I. chapter v.] + +Certain other opinions of Xenophanes have been preserved. He observed +fossils, and found shells inland, and the forms of fish and sea-weed +embedded in the rocks in the quarries of Syracuse and elsewhere. From +these he concluded that the earth had risen out of the sea and would +again partially sink into it. Then the human race would be destroyed. +But the earth would again rise from the sea and the human race would +again [43] be renewed. He believed that the sun and stars were burning +masses of vapour. The sun, he thought, does not revolve round the +earth. It goes on in a straight line, and disappears in the remote +distance in the evening. It is not the same sun which rises the next +morning. Every day a new sun is formed out of the vapours of the sea. +This idea is connected with his general attitude towards the popular +religion. His motive was to show that the sun and stars are not divine +beings, but like other beings, ephemeral. Xenophanes also ridiculed +the Pythagoreans, especially their doctrine of re-incarnation. + + + +Parmenides + +Parmenides was born about 514 B.C. at Elea. Not much is known of his +life. He was in his early youth a Pythagorean, but recanted that +philosophy and formulated a philosophy of his own. He was greatly +revered in antiquity both for the depth of his intellect, and the +sublimity and nobility of his character. Plato refers to him always +with reverence. His philosophy is comprised in a philosophic didactic +poem which is divided into two parts. The first part expounds his own +philosophy and is called "the way of truth." The second part describes +the false opinions current in his day and is called "the way of +opinion." + +The reflection of Parmenides takes its rise from observation of the +transitoriness and changeableness of things. The world, as we know it, +is a world of change and mutation. All things arise and pass away. +Nothing is permanent, nothing stands. One moment it is, another moment +it is not. It is as true to say of {44} anything, that it is not, as +that it is. The truth of things cannot lie here, for no knowledge of +that which is constantly changing is possible. Hence the thought of +Parmenides becomes the effort to find the eternal amid the shifting, +the abiding and everlasting amid the change and mutation of things. +And there arises in this way the antithesis between Being and +not-being. The absolutely real is Being. Not-being is the unreal. +Not-being is not at all. And this not-being he identifies with +becoming, with the world of shifting and changing things, the world +which is known to us by the senses. The world of sense is unreal, +illusory, a mere appearance. It is not-being. Only Being truly is. As +Thales designated water the one reality, as the Pythagoreans named +number, so now for Parmenides the sole reality, the first principle of +things, is Being, wholly unmixed with not-being, wholly excludent of +all becoming. The character of Being he describes, for the most part, +in a series of negatives. There is in it no change, it is absolutely +unbecome and imperishable. It has neither beginning nor end, neither +arising nor passing away. If Being began, it must have arisen either +from Being or from not-being. But for Being to arise out of Being, +that is not a beginning, and for Being to arise out of not-being is +impossible, since there is then no reason why it should arise later +rather than sooner. Being cannot come out of not-being, nor something +out of nothing. _Ex nihilo nihil fit_. This is the fundamental thought +of Parmenides. Moreover, we cannot say of Being that it was, that it +is, that it will be. There is for it no past, no present, and no +future. It is rather eternally and timelessly present. It is undivided +and indivisible. For anything to be divided {45} it must be divided by +something other than itself. But there is nothing other than Being; +there is no not-being. Therefore there is nothing by which Being can +be divided. Hence it is indivisible. It is unmoved and undisturbed, +for motion and disturbance are forms of becoming, and all becoming is +excluded from Being. It is absolutely self-identical. It does not +arise from anything other than itself. It does not pass into anything +other than itself. It has its whole being in itself. It does not +depend upon anything else for its being and reality. It does not pass +over into otherness; it remains, steadfast, and abiding in itself. Of +positive character Being has nothing. Its sole character is simply its +being. It cannot be said that it is this or that; it cannot be said +that it has this or that quality, that it is here or there, then or +now. It simply _is_. Its only quality is, so to speak, "isness." + +But in Parmenides there emerges for the first time a distinction of +fundamental importance in philosophy, the distinction between Sense +and Reason. The world of falsity and appearance, of becoming, of +not-being, this is, says Parmenides, the world which is presented to +us by the senses. True and veritable Being is known to us only by +reason, by thought. The senses therefore, are, for Parmenides, the +sources of all illusion and error. Truth lies only in reason. This is +exceedingly important, because this, _that truth lies in reason and not +in the world of sense_, is the fundamental position of idealism. + +The doctrine of Being, just described, occupies the first part of the +poem of Parmenides. The second part is the way of false opinion. But +whether Parmenides is here simply giving an account of the false +philosophies {46} of his day, (and in doing this there does not seem +much point,) or whether he was, with total inconsistency, attempting, +in a cosmological theory of his own, to explain the origin of that +world of appearance and illusion, whose very being he has, in the +first part of the poem, denied--this does not seem to be clear. The +theory here propounded, at any rate, is that the sense-world is +composed of the two opposites, the hot and the cold, or light and +darkness. The more hot there is, the more life, the more reality; the +more cold, the more unreality and death. + +What position, now, are we to assign to Parmenides in philosophy? How +are we to characterize his system? Such writers as Hegel, Erdmann, and +Schwegler, have always interpreted his philosophy in an idealistic +sense. Professor Burnet, however, takes the opposite view. To quote +his own words: "Parmenides is not, as some have said, the father of +idealism. On the contrary, all materialism depends upon his view." +[Footnote 5] Now if we cannot say whether Parmenides was a materialist +or an idealist, we cannot be said to understand much about his +philosophy. The question is therefore of cardinal importance. Let us +see, in the first place, upon what grounds the materialistic +interpretation of Parmenides is based. It is based upon a fact which I +have so far not mentioned, leaving it for explanation at this moment. +Parmenides said that Being, which is for him the ultimate reality, +occupies space, is finite, and is spherical or globe-shaped. Now that +which occupies space, and has shape, is matter. The ultimate reality +of things, therefore, is conceived by Parmenides as material, and +this, of course, is the {47} cardinal thesis of materialism. This +interpretation of Parmenides is further emphasized in the disagreement +between himself and Melissus, as to whether Being is finite or +infinite. Melissus was a younger adherent of the Eleatic School, whose +chief interest lies in his views on this question. His philosophical +position in general is the same as that of Parmenides. But on this +point they differed. Parmenides asserted that Being is globe-shaped, +and therefore finite. Now it was an essential part of the doctrine of +Parmenides that empty space is non-existent. Empty space is an +existent non-existence. This is self-contradictory, and for +Parmenides, therefore, empty space is simply not-being. There are, for +example, no interstices, or empty spaces between the particles of +matter. Being is "the full," that is, full space with no mixture of +empty space in it. Now Melissus agreed with Parmenides that there is +no such thing as empty space; and he pointed out, that if Being is +globe-shaped, it must be bounded on the outside by empty space. And as +this is impossible, it cannot be true that Being is globe-shaped, or +finite, but must, on the contrary, extend illimitably through space. +This makes it quite clear that Parmenides, Melissus, and the Eleatics +generally, did regard Being as, in some sense, material. + +[Footnote 5: _Early Greek Philosophy_, chap. iv. § 89.] + +Now, however, let us turn to the other side of the picture. What +ground is there for regarding Parmenides as an idealist? In the first +place, we may say that his ultimate principle, Being, whatever he may +have thought of it, is not in fact material, but is essentially an +abstract thought, a concept. Being is not here, it is not there. It is +not in any place or time. It is not to be found by the senses. It is +to be found only in reason. {48} We form the idea of Being by the +process of abstraction. For example, we see this desk. Our entire +knowledge of the desk consists in our knowledge of its qualities. It +is square, brown, hard, odourless, etc. Now suppose we successively +strip off these qualities in thought--its colour, its size, its shape. +We shall ultimately be left with nothing at all except its mere being. +We can no longer say of it that it is hard, square, etc. We can only +say "it is." As Parmenides said, Being is not divisible, movable; it +is not here nor there, then nor now. It simply "is." This is the +Eleatic notion of Being, and it is a pure concept. It may be compared +to such an idea as "whiteness." We cannot see "whiteness." We see +white things, but not "whiteness" itself. What, then, is "whiteness"? +It is a concept, that is to say, not a particular thing, but a general +idea, which we form by abstraction, by considering the quality which +all white things have in common, and neglecting the qualities in which +they differ. Just so, if we consider the common character of all +objects in the universe, and neglect their differences, we shall find +that what they all have in common is simply "being." Being then is a +general idea, or concept. It is a thought, and not a thing. +Parmenides, therefore, actually placed the absolute reality of things +in an idea, in a thought, though he may have conceived it in a +material and sensuous way. Now the cardinal thesis of idealism is +precisely this, that the absolute reality, of which the world is a +manifestation, consists in thought, in concepts. Parmenides, on this +view, was an idealist. + +Moreover, Parmenides has clearly made the distinction between sense +and reason. True Being is not known to {49} the senses, but only to +reason, and this distinction is an essential feature of all idealism. +Materialism is precisely the view that reality is to be found in the +world of sense. But the proposition of Parmenides is the exact +opposite of this, namely, that reality is to be found only in reason. +Again, there begins to appear for the first time in Parmenides the +distinction between reality and appearance. Parmenides, of course, +would not have used these terms, which have been adopted in modern +times. But the thought which they express is unmistakably there. This +outward world, the world of sense, he proclaims to be illusion and +appearance. Reality is something which lies behind, and is invisible +to the senses. Now the very essence of materialism is that this +material world, this world of sense, is the real world. Idealism is +the doctrine that the sense-world is an appearance. How then can +Parmenides be called a materialist? + +How are we to reconcile these two conflicting views of Parmenides? I +think the truth is that these two contradictories lie side by side in +Parmenides unreconciled, and still mutually contradicting each other. +Parmenides himself did not see the contradiction. If we emphasize the +one side, then Parmenides was a materialist. If we emphasize the other +side, then he is to be interpreted as an idealist. In point of fact, +in the history of Greek philosophy, both these sides of Parmenides +were successively emphasized. He became the father both of materialism +and of idealism. His immediate successors, Empedocles and Democritus, +seized upon the materialistic aspect of his thought, and developed it. +The essential thought of Parmenides was that Being cannot arise from +not-being, and that Being neither {50} arises nor passes away. If we +apply this idea to matter we get what in modern times is called the +doctrine of the "indestructibility of matter." Matter has no beginning +and no end. The apparent arising and passing away of things is simply +the aggregation and separation of particles of matter which, in +themselves, are indestructible. This is precisely the position of +Democritus. And his doctrine, therefore, is a materialistic rendering +of the main thought of Parmenides that Being cannot arise from +not-being or pass into not-being. + +It was not till the time of Plato that the idealistic aspect of the +Parmenidean doctrine was developed. It was the genius of Plato which +seized upon the germs of idealism in Parmenides and developed them. +Plato was deeply influenced by Parmenides. His main doctrine was that +the reality of the world is to be found in thought, in concepts, in +what is called "the Idea." And he identified the Idea with the Being +of Parmenides. + +But still, it may be asked, which is the true view of Parmenides? +Which is the historical Parmenides? Was not Plato in interpreting him +idealistically reading his own thought into Parmenides? Are not we, if +we interpret him as an idealist, reading into him later ideas? In one +sense this is perfectly true. It is clear from what Parmenides himself +said that he regarded the ultimate reality of things as material. It +would be a complete mistake to attribute to him a fully developed and +consistent system of idealism. If you had told Parmenides that he was +an idealist, he would not have understood you. The distinction between +materialism and idealism was not then developed. If you had told him, +moreover, that Being is a concept, he would not have understood {51} +you, because the theory of concepts was not developed until the time +of Socrates and Plato. Now it is the function of historical criticism +to insist upon this, to see that later thought is not attributed to +Parmenides. But if this is the function of historical scholarship, it +is equally the function of philosophic insight to seize upon the germs +of a higher thought amid the confused thinking of Parmenides, to see +what he was groping for, to see clearly what he saw only vaguely and +dimly, to make explicit what in him was merely implicit, to exhibit +the true inwardness of his teaching, to separate what is valuable and +essential in it from what is worthless and accidental. And I say that +in this sense the true and essential meaning of Parmenides is his +idealism. I said in the first chapter that philosophy is the movement +from sensuous to non-sensuous thought. I said that it is only with the +utmost difficulty that this movement occurs. And I said that even the +greatest philosophers have sometimes failed herein. In Parmenides we +have the first example of this. He began by propounding the truth that +Being is the essential reality, and Being, as we saw, is a concept. +But Parmenides was a pioneer. He trod upon unbroken ground. He had not +behind him, as we have, a long line of idealistic thinkers to guide +him. So he could not maintain this first non-sensuous thought. He +could not resist the temptation to frame for himself a mental image, a +picture, of Being. Now all mental images and pictures are framed out +of materials supplied to us by the senses. Hence it comes about that +Parmenides pictured Being as a globe-shaped something occupying space. +But this is not the truth of Parmenides. This is simply his failure to +realise {52} and understand his own principle, and to think his own +thought. It is true that his immediate successors, Empedocles and +Democritus, seized upon this, and built their philosophies upon it. +But in doing so they were building upon the darkness of Parmenides, +upon his dimness of vision, upon his inability to grapple with his own +idea. It was Plato who built upon the light of Parmenides. + + + +Zeno + +The third and last important thinker of the Eleatic School is Zeno +who, like Parmenides, was a man of Elea. His birth is placed about 489 +B.C. He composed a prose treatise in which he developed his +philosophy. Zeno's contribution to Eleaticism is, in a sense, entirely +negative. He did not add anything positive to the teachings of +Parmenides. He supports Parmenides in the doctrine of Being. But it is +not the conclusions of Zeno that are novel, it is rather the reasons +which he gave for them. In attempting to support the Parmenidean +doctrine from a new point of view he developed certain ideas about the +ultimate character of space and time which have since been of the +utmost importance in philosophy. Parmenides had taught that the world +of sense is illusory and false. The essentials of that world are two-- +multiplicity and change. True Being is absolutely one; there is in it +no plurality or multiplicity. Being, moreover, is absolutely static +and unchangeable. There is in it no motion. Multiplicity and motion +are the two characteristics of the false world of sense. Against +multiplicity and motion, therefore, Zeno directed his {53} arguments, +and attempted indirectly to support the conclusions of Parmenides by +showing that multiplicity and motion are impossible. He attempted to +force multiplicity and motion to refute themselves by showing that, if +we assume them as real, contradictory propositions follow from that +assumption. Two propositions which contradict each other cannot both +be true. Therefore the assumptions from which both follow, namely, +multiplicity and motion, cannot be real things. + + + +_Zeno's arguments against multiplicity_. + +(1) If the many is, it must be both infinitely small and infinitely +large. The many must be infinitely small. For it is composed of units. +This is what we mean by saying that it is many. It is many parts or +units. These units must be indivisible. For if they are further +divisible, then they are not units. Since they are indivisible they +can have no magnitude, for that which has magnitude is divisible. The +many, therefore, is composed of units which have no magnitude. But if +none of the parts of the many have magnitude, the many as a whole has +none. Therefore, the many is infinitely small. But the many must also +be infinitely large. For the many has magnitude, and as such, is +divisible into parts. These parts still have magnitude, and are +therefore further divisible. However far we proceed with the division +the parts still have magnitude and are still divisible. Hence the many +is divisible _ad infinitum_. It must therefore be composed of an +infinite number of parts, each having magnitude. But the smallest +magnitude, multiplied by infinity, becomes an infinite magnitude. +Therefore the many is infinitely large. (2) The {54} many must be, in +number, both limited and unlimited. It must be limited because it is +just as many as it is, no more, no less. It is, therefore, a definite +number. But a definite number is a finite or limited number. But the +many must be also unlimited in number. For it is infinitely divisible, +or composed of an infinite number of parts. + + + +_Zeno's arguments against motion_. + +(1) In order to travel a distance, a body must first travel half the +distance. There remains half left for it still to travel. It must then +travel half the remaining distance. There is still a remainder. This +progress proceeds infinitely, but there is always a remainder +untravelled. Therefore, it is impossible for a body to travel from one +point to another. It can never arrive. (2) Achilles and the tortoise +run a race. If the tortoise is given a start, Achilles can never catch +it up. For, in the first place, he must run to the point from which +the tortoise started. When he gets there, the tortoise will have gone +to a point further on. Achilles must then run to that point, and finds +then that the tortoise has reached a third point. This will go on for +ever, the distance between them continually diminishing, but never +being wholly wiped out. Achilles will never catch up the tortoise. (3) +This is the story of the flying arrow. An object cannot be in two +places at the same time. Therefore, at any particular moment in its +flight the arrow is in one place and not in two. But to be in one +place is to be at rest. Therefore in each and every moment of its +flight it is at rest. It is thus at rest throughout. Motion is +impossible. + +{55} + +This type of argument is, in modern times, called "antinomy." An +antinomy is a proof that, since two contradictory propositions equally +follow from a given assumption, that assumption must be false. Zeno is +also called by Aristotle the inventor of dialectic. Dialectic +originally meant simply discussion, but it has come to be a technical +term in philosophy, and is used for that type of reasoning which seeks +to develop the truth by making the false refute and contradict itself. +The conception of dialectic is especially important in Zeno, Plato, +Kant, and Hegel. + +All the arguments which Zeno uses against multiplicity and motion are +in reality merely variations of one argument. That argument is as +follows. It applies equally to space, to time, or to anything which +can be quantitatively measured. For simplicity we will consider it +only in its spatial significance. Any quantity of space, say the space +enclosed within a circle, must either be composed of ultimate +indivisible units, or it must be divisible _ad infinitum_. If it is +composed of indivisible units, these must have magnitude, and we are +faced with the contradiction of a magnitude which cannot be divided. +If it is divisible _ad infinitum_, we are faced with the contradiction +of supposing that an infinite number of parts can be added up and make +a finite sum-total. It is thus a great mistake to suppose that Zeno's +stories of Achilles and the tortoise, and of the flying arrow, are +merely childish puzzles. On the contrary, Zeno was the first, by means +of these stories, to bring to light the essential contradictions which +lie in our ideas of space and time, and thus to set an important +problem for all subsequent philosophy. + +{56} + +All Zeno's arguments are based upon the one argument described above, +which may be called the antinomy of infinite divisibility. For +example, the story of the flying arrow. At any moment of its flight, +says Zeno, it must be in one place, because it cannot be in two places +at the same moment. This depends upon the view of time as being +infinitely divisible. It is only in an infinitesimal moment, an +absolute moment having no duration, that the arrow is at rest. This, +however, is not the only antinomy which we find in our conceptions of +space and time. Every mathematician is acquainted with the +contradictions immanent in our ideas of infinity. For example, the +familiar proposition that parallel straight lines meet at infinity, is +a contradiction. Again, a decreasing geometrical progression can be +added up to infinity, the infinite number of its terms adding up in +the sum-total to a finite number. The idea of infinite space itself is +a contradiction. You can say of it exactly what Zeno said of the many. +There must be in existence as much space as there is, no more. But +this means that there must be a definite and limited amount of space. +Therefore space is finite. On the other hand, it is impossible to +conceive a limit to space. Beyond the limit there must be more space. +Therefore space is infinite. Zeno himself gave expression to this +antinomy in the form of an argument which I have not so far mentioned. +He said that everything which exists is in space. Space itself exists, +therefore space must be in space. That space must be in another space +and so _ad infinitum_. This of course is merely a quaint way of saying +that to conceive a limit to space is impossible. + +But to return to the antinomy of infinite divisibility, {57} on which +most of Zeno's arguments rest, you will perhaps expect me to say +something of the different solutions which have been offered. In the +first place, we must not forget Zeno's own solution. He did not +propound this contradiction for its own sake, but to support the +thesis of Parmenides. His solution is that as multiplicity and motion +contain these contradictions, therefore multiplicity and motion cannot +be real. Therefore, there is, as Parmenides said, only one Being, with +no multiplicity in it, and excludent of all motion and becoming. The +solution given by Kant in modern times is essentially similar. +According to Kant, these contradictions are immanent in our +conceptions of space and time, and since time and space involve these +contradictions it follows that they are not real beings, but +appearances, mere phenomena. Space and time do not belong to things as +they are in themselves, but rather to our way of looking at things. +They are forms of our perception. It is our minds which impose space +and time upon objects, and not objects which impose space and time +upon our minds. Further, Kant drew from these contradictions the +conclusion that to comprehend the infinite is beyond the capacity of +human reason. He attempted to show that, wherever we try to think the +infinite, whether the infinitely large or the infinitely small, we +fall into irreconcilable contradictions. Therefore, he concluded that +human faculties are incapable of apprehending infinity. As might be +expected, many thinkers have attempted to solve the problem by denying +one or other side of the contradiction, by saying that one or other +side does not follow from the premises, that one is true and the other +false. David Hume, for example, {58} denied the infinite divisibility +of space and time, and declared that they are composed of indivisible +units having magnitude. But the difficulty that it is impossible to +conceive of units having magnitude which are yet indivisible is not +satisfactorily explained by Hume. And in general, it seems that any +solution which is to be satisfactory must somehow make room for both +sides of the contradiction. It will not do to deny one side or the +other, to say that one is false and the other true. A true solution is +only possible by rising above the level of the two antagonistic +principles and taking them both up to the level of a higher +conception, in which both opposites are reconciled. + +This was the procedure followed by Hegel in his solution of the +problem. Unfortunately his solution cannot be fully understood without +some knowledge of his general philosophical principles, on which it +wholly depends. I will, however, try to make it as plain as possible. +In the first place, Hegel did not go out of his way to solve these +antinomies. They appear as mere incidents in the development of his +thought. He did not regard them as isolated cases of contradiction +which occur in thought, as exceptions to a general rule, which +therefore need special explanation. On the contrary, he regarded them, +not as exceptions to, but as examples of, the essential character of +reason. All thought, all reason, for Hegel, contains immanent +contradictions which it first posits and then reconciles in a higher +unity, and this particular contradiction of infinite divisibility is +reconciled in the higher notion of quantity. The notion of quantity +contains two factors, namely the one and the many. Quantity means +precisely a many in {59} one, or a one in many. If, for example, we +consider a quantity of anything, say a heap of wheat, this is, in the +first place, one; it is one whole. Secondly, it is many; for it is +composed of many parts. As one it is continuous; as many it is +discrete. Now the true notion of quantity is not one, apart from many, +nor many apart from one. It is the synthesis of both. It is a many +_in_ one. The antinomy we are considering arises from considering one +side of the truth in a false abstraction from the other. To conceive +unity as not being in itself multiplicity, or multiplicity as not +being unity, is a false abstraction. The thought of the one involves +the thought of the many, and the thought of the many involves the +thought of the one. You cannot have a many without a one, any more +than you can have one end of a stick without the other. Now, if we +consider anything which is quantitatively measured, such as a straight +line, we may consider it, in the first place, as one. In that case it +is a continuous indivisible unit. Next we may regard it as many, in +which case it falls into parts. Now each of these parts may again be +regarded as one, and as such is an indivisible unit; and again each +part may be regarded as many, in which case it falls into further +parts; and this alternating process may go on for ever. This is the +view of the matter which gives rise to the contradictions we have been +considering. But it is a false view. It involves the false abstraction +of first regarding the many as something that has reality apart from +the one, and then regarding the one as something that has reality +apart from the many. If you persist in saying that the line is simply +one and not many, then there arises the theory of indivisible units. +If you {60} persist in saying it is simply many and not one, then it +is divisible _ad infinitum_. But the truth is that it is neither simply +many nor simply one; it is a many in one, that is, it is a _quantity_. +Both sides of the contradiction are, therefore, in one sense true, for +each is a factor of the truth. But both sides are also false, if and +in so far as, each sets itself up as the whole truth. + + + +Critical Remarks on Eleaticism. + +The consideration of the meaning of Zeno's doctrine will give us an +insight into the essentials of the position of the Eleatics. Zeno said +that motion and multiplicity are not real. Now what does this mean? +Did Zeno mean to say that when he walked about the streets of Elea, it +was not true that he walked about? Did he mean that it was not a fact +that he moved from place to place? When I move my arms, did he mean +that I am not moving my arms, but that they really remain at rest all +the time? If so, we might justly conclude that this philosophy is a +mere craze of speculation run mad, or else a joke. But this is not +what is meant. The Eleatic position is that though the world of sense, +of which multiplicity and motion are essential features, may exist, +yet that outward world is not the true Being. They do not deny that +the world exists. They do not deny that motion exists or that +multiplicity exists. These things no sane man can deny. The existence +of motion and multiplicity is, as Hegel says, as sensuously certain as +the existence of elephants. Zeno, then, does not deny the existence of +the world. What he denies is the truth of existence. What he means is: +certainly there is motion and multiplicity; certainly the world is +here, is present to our senses, but it is not the true world. It is +{61} not reality. It is mere appearance, illusion, an outward show and +sham, a hollow mask which hides the real being of things. You may ask +what is meant by this distinction between appearance and reality. Is +not even an appearance real? It appears. It exists. Even a delusion +exists, and is therefore a real thing. So is not the distinction +between appearance and reality itself meaningless? Now all this is +perfectly true, but it does not comprehend quite what is meant by the +distinction. What is meant is that the objects around us have +existence, but not self-existence, not self-substantiality. That is to +say, their being is not in themselves, their existence is not grounded +in themselves but is grounded in another, and flows from that other. +They exist, but they are not independent existences. They are rather +beings whose being flows into them from another, which itself is +self-existent and self-substantial. They are, therefore, mere +appearances of that other, which is the reality. Of course the +Eleatics did not speak of appearance and reality in these terms. But +this is what they were groping for, and dimly saw. + +If we now look back upon the road on which we have travelled from the +beginning of Greek philosophy, we shall be able to characterize the +direction in which we have been moving. The earliest Greek +philosophers, the Ionics, propounded the question, "what is the +ultimate principle of things?" and answered it by declaring that the +first principle of things is matter. The second Greek School, the +Pythagoreans, answered the same question by declaring numbers to be +the first principle. The third school, the Eleatics, answered the +question by asserting that the first principle of things is Being. +{62} Now the universe, as we know it, is both quantitative and +qualitative. Quantity and quality are characteristics of every +sense-object. These are not, indeed, the only characteristics of the +world, but they are the only characteristics which have so far come to +light. Now the position of the Ionics was that the ultimate reality is +both quantitative and qualitative, that is to say, it is matter, for +matter is just what has both quantity and quality. The Pythagoreans +abstracted from the quality of things. They stripped off the +qualitative aspect from things, and were accordingly left with only +quantity as ultimate reality. Quantity is the same as number. Hence +the Pythagorean position that the world is made of numbers. The +Eleatic philosophy, proceeding one step further in the same direction, +abstracted from quantity as well as quality. Whereas the Pythagoreans +had denied the qualitative aspect of things, leaving themselves only +with the quantitative, the Eleatics denied both quantity and quality, +for in denying multiplicity they denied quantity. Therefore they are +left with the total abstraction of mere Being which has in it neither +dividedness (quantity), nor positive character (quality). The rise +from the Ionic to the Eleatic philosophy is therefore essentially a +rise from sensuous to pure thinking. The Eleatic Being is a pure +abstract thought. The position of the Pythagoreans on the other hand +is that of semi-sensuous thought. They form the stepping-stone from +the Ionics to the Eleatics. + +Now let us consider what of worth there is in this Eleatic principle, +and what its defects are. In the first place, it is necessary for us +to understand that the Eleatic philosophy is the first monism. A +monistic philosophy {63} is a philosophy which attempts to explain the +entire universe from one single principle. The opposite of monism is +therefore pluralism, which is that kind of philosophy which seeks to +explain the universe from many ultimate and equally underived +principles. But more particularly and more frequently we speak of the +opposite of monism as being dualism, that is to say, the position that +there are two ultimate principles of explanation. If, for example, we +say that all the good in the universe arises from one source which is +good, and that all the evil arises from another source which is evil, +and that these sources of good and evil cannot be subordinated one to +the other, and that one does not arise out of the other, but both are +co-ordinate and equally primeval and independent, that position would +be a dualism. All philosophy, which is worthy of the name, seeks, in +some sense, a monistic explanation of the universe, and when we find +that a system of philosophy breaks down and fails, then we may nearly +always be sure its defect will reveal itself as an unreconciled +dualism. Such a philosophy will begin with a monistic principle, and +will attempt to derive or deduce the entire universe from it, but +somewhere or other it comes across something in the world which it +cannot bring under that principle. Then it is left with two equally +ultimate existences, neither of which can be derived from the other. +Thus it breaks out into dualism. + +Now the search for a monistic explanation of things is a universal +tendency of human thought. Wherever we look in the world of thought, +we find that this monistic tendency appears. I have already said that +it appears throughout the history of philosophy. It reveals itself, +{64} too, very clearly in the history of religion. Religion begins in +polytheism, the belief in many gods. From that it passes on to +monotheism, the belief in one God, who is the sole author and creator +of the universe. In Hindu thought we find the same thing. Hindu +thought is based upon the principle that "All is one." Everything in +the world is derived from one ultimate being, Brahman. But not only is +this monistic tendency traceable in religion and philosophy; it is +also traceable in science. The progress of scientific explanation is +essentially a progress towards monism. In the first place, the +explanation of isolated facts consists always in assigning causes for +them. Suppose there is a strange noise in your room at night. You say +it is explained when you find that it is due to the falling of a book +or the scuttling of a rat across the floor. The noise is thus +explained by assigning a cause for it. But this simply means that you +have robbed it of its isolated and exceptional position, and reduced +it to the position of an example of a general law. When the water +freezes in your jug, you say that the cause of this is the cold. It is +an example of the law that whenever the cold reaches a certain degree, +then, other things being equal, water solidifies. But to assign causes +in this way is not really to explain anything. It does not give any +reason for an event happening. You cannot see any reason why water +should solidify in the cold. It merely tells us that the event is not +exceptional, but is an example of what always happens. It reduces the +isolated event to a case of a general law, which "explains," not +merely this one event, but possibly millions of events. It is not +merely that cold solidifies the water in your jug. {65} It equally +solidifies the water in everybody's jug. The same law "explains" all +these, and likewise "explains" icebergs and the polar caps on the +earth and the planet Mars. In fact scientific explanation means the +reduction of millions of facts to one principle. But science does not +stop here. It seeks further to explain the laws themselves, and its +method is to reduce the many laws to one higher and more general law. +A familiar example of this is the explanation of Kepler's laws of the +planetary motions. Kepler laid down three such laws. The first was +that planets move in elliptical orbits with the sun in one focus. The +second was that planets describe equal areas in equal times. The third +was a rather more complicated law. Kepler knew these laws from +observation, but he could not explain them. They were explained by +Newton's discovery of the law of gravitation. Newton proved that +Kepler's three laws could be mathematically deduced from the law of +gravitation. In that way Kepler's laws were explained, and not only +Kepler's laws, but many other astronomical laws and facts. Thus the +explanation of the many isolated facts consists in their reduction to +the one law, and the explanation of the many laws consists in their +reduction to the one more general law. As knowledge advances, the +phenomena of the universe come to be explained by fewer and fewer, and +wider and wider, general principles. Obviously the ultimate goal would +be the explanation of all things by one principle. I do not mean to +say that scientific men have this end consciously in view. But the +point is that the monistic tendency is there. What is meant by the +explanation is the reduction of all things to one principle. + +{66} + +In philosophy, in religion, and in science, then, we find this +monistic tendency of thought. But it might be asked how we know that +this universal tendency is right? How do we know that it is not merely +a universal error? Is there no logical or philosophical basis for the +belief that the ultimate explanation of things must be one? Now this +is a subject which takes us far afield from Greek philosophy. The +philosophical basis of monism was never thought out till the time of +Spinoza. So we cannot go into it at length here. But, quite shortly, +the question is--Is there any reason for believing that the ultimate +explanation of things must be one? Now if we are to explain the +universe, two conditions must be fulfilled. In the first place, the +ultimate reality by which we attempt to explain everything must +explain all the other things in the world. It must be possible to +deduce the whole world from it. Secondly, the first principle must +explain itself. It cannot be a principle which itself still requires +explanation by something else. If it is itself not self-explanatory, +but is an ultimate mystery, then even if we succeed in deducing the +universe from it, nothing is thereby explained. This, for example, is +precisely the defect of materialism. Even if we suppose it proved that +all things, including mind, arise from matter, yet the objection +remains that this explains nothing at all, for matter is not a +self-explanatory existence. It is an unintelligible mystery. And to +reduce the universe to an ultimate mystery is not to explain it. +Again; some people think that the world is to be explained by what +they call a "first cause." But why should any cause be the first? Why +should we stop anywhere in the chain of causes? Every cause is {67} +necessarily the effect of a prior cause. The child, who is told that +God made the world, and who inquires who, in that case, made God, is +asking a highly sensible question. Or suppose, in tracing back the +chain of causes, we come upon one which we have reason to say is +really the first, is anything explained thereby? Still we are left +with an ultimate mystery. Whatever the principle of explanation is, it +cannot be a principle of this kind. It must be a principle which +explains itself, and does not lead to something further, such as +another cause. In other words, it must be a principle which has its +whole being in itself, which does not for its completeness refer us to +anything beyond itself. It must be something fully comprehended in +itself, without reference to anything outside it. That is to say, it +must be what we call self-determined or absolute. Now any absolute +principle must necessarily be one. Suppose that it were two. Suppose +you attempt to explain the world by two principles, X and Y, each of +which is ultimate, neither being derived from the other. Then what +relation does X bear to Y? We cannot fully comprehend X without +knowing its relation to Y. Part of the character and being of X is +constituted by its relation to Y. Part of X's character has to be +explained by Y. But that is not to be self-explained. It is to be +explained by something not itself. Therefore, the ultimate explanation +of things must be one. + +The Eleatics, then, were perfectly correct in saying that all is one, +and that the ultimate principle of the universe, Being, is one. But if +we examine the way in which they carried out their monism, we shall +see that it broke down in a hopeless dualism. How did they {68} +explain the existence of the world? They propounded the principle of +Being, as the ultimate reality. How then did they derive the actual +world from that principle? The answer is that they neither derived it +nor made any attempt to derive it. Instead of deducing the world from +their first principle, they simply denied the reality of the world +altogether. They attempted to solve the problem by denying the +existence of the problem. The world, they said, is simply not-being. +It is an illusion. Now certainly it is a great thing to know which is +the true world, and which the false, but after all this is not an +explanation. To call the world an illusion is not to explain it. If +the world is reality, then the problem of philosophy is, how does that +reality arise? If the world is illusion, then the problem is, how does +that illusion arise? Call it illusion, if you like. But this is not +explaining it. It is simply calling it names. This is the defect, too, +of Indian philosophy in which the world is said to be Maya--delusion. +Hence in the Eleatic philosophy there are two worlds brought face to +face, lying side by side of each other, unreconciled--the world of +Being, which is the true world, and the world of facts, which is +illusion. Although the Eleatics deny the sense-world, and call it +illusion, yet of this illusion they cannot rid themselves. In some +sense or other, this world is here, is present. It comes back upon our +senses, and demands explanation. Call it illusion, but it still stands +beside the true world, and demands that it be deduced from that. So +that the Eleatics have two principles, the false world and the true +world, simply lying side by side, without any connecting link between +them, without anything to {69} show how the one arises from the other. +It is an utterly irreconcilable dualism. + +It is easy to see why the Eleatic philosophy broke down in this +dualism. It is due to the barrenness of their first principle itself. +Being, they say, has in it no becoming. All principle of motion is +expressly excluded from it. Likewise they deny to it any multiplicity. +It is simply one, without any many in it. If you expressly exclude +multiplicity and becoming from your first principle, then you can +never get multiplicity and becoming out of it. You cannot get out of +it anything that is not in it. If you say absolutely there is no +multiplicity in the Absolute, then it is impossible to explain how +multiplicity comes into this world. It is exactly the same in regard +to the question of quality. Pure Being is without quality. It is mere +"isness." It is an utterly featureless, characterless Being, perfectly +empty and abstract. How then can the quality of things issue from it? +How can all the riches and variety of the world come out of this +emptiness? The Eleatics are like jugglers who try to make you believe +that they get rabbits, guinea-pigs, pieces of string, paper, and +ribbon, out of an entirely empty top-hat. One can see how utterly +barren and empty this principle is, if one translates it into +figurative language, that is to say, into the language of religion. +The Eleatic principle would correspond to a religion in which we said +that "God is," but beyond the fact that He "is," He has absolutely no +character. But surely this is a wholly barren and meagre conception of +the Deity. In the Christian religion we are accustomed to hear such +expressions as, not only that "God is," but that "God is Love," "God +is Power," {70} "God is Goodness," "God is Wisdom." Now objection may +certainly be taken to these predicates and epithets on the ground that +they are merely figurative and anthropomorphic. In fact, they exhibit +the tendency to think non-sensuous objects sensuously. These +predicates are merely picked up from the finite world and applied +haphazard to God, for whom they are entirely inadequate. But at least +these expressions teach us, that out of mere emptiness nothing can +come; that the world cannot arise out of something which is lower and +poorer than itself. Here in the world we find in a certain measure, +love, wisdom, excellence, power. These things cannot spring from a +source which is so poor that it contains nothing but "isness." The +less can arise out of the greater, but not the greater out of the +less. We may contrast Eleaticism not only with Christianity, but even +with popular modern agnosticism. According to this, the Absolute is +unknowable. But what the agnostic means is that human reason is +inadequate to grasp the greatness of the ultimate being. But the +Eleatic principle is, not that in saying "God is Love, Power, Wisdom," +we are saying too little about God, and that our ideas are inadequate +to express the fullness of His being, but on the contrary, that they +express too high an idea for God, of whom nothing can be said except +"He is," because there is absolutely nothing more to say. This +conception of God is the conception of an absolutely empty being. + +Monism, I said, is a necessary idea in philosophy. The Absolute must +be one. But an utterly abstract monism is impossible. If the Absolute +is simply one, wholly excludent of all process and multiplicity, out +of such an abstraction the process and multiplicity of the {71} world +cannot issue. The Absolute is not simply one, or simply many. It must +be a many in one, as correctly set forth in the Christian doctrine of +the Trinity. Religion moves from an abstract polytheism (God is many) +to an abstract monotheism (God is one; Judaism, Hinduism and Islam). +But it does not stop there. It rightly passes on to a concrete +monotheism (God is many in one; Christianity). There are two popular +misconceptions regarding the doctrine of the Trinity. The first +mistake is that of popular rationalism, the second is that of popular +theology. Popular rationalism asserts that the doctrine of the Trinity +is contrary to reason. Popular theology asserts that it is a mystery +which transcends reason. But the truth is that it neither contradicts +nor transcends reason. On the contrary, it is in itself the highest +manifestation of reason. What is really a mystery, what really +contradicts reason, is to suppose that God, the Absolute, is simply +one without any multiplicity. This contradiction results in the fatal +dualism which broke out in Eleaticism, and has broken out in every +other system of thought, such as that of the Hindus or that of +Spinoza, which begins with the conception of the Absolute as a pure +one, totally exclusive of the many. + +{72} + +CHAPTER V + +HERACLEITUS + +Heracleitus was born about 535 B.C., and is believed to have lived to +the age of sixty. This places his death at 475 B.C. He was thus +subsequent to Xenophanes, contemporary with Parmenides, and older than +Zeno. In historical order of time, therefore, he runs parallel to the +Eleatics. Heracleitus was a man of Ephesus in Asia Minor. He was an +aristocrat, descendant of a noble Ephesian family, and occupied in +Ephesus the nominal position of basileus, or King. This, however, +merely meant that he was the Chief Priest of the local branch of the +Eleusinian mysteries, and this position he resigned in favour of his +brother. He appears to have been a man of a somewhat aloof, solitary, +and scornful nature. He looked down, not only upon the common herd, +but even upon the great men of his own race. He mentions Xenophanes +and Pythagoras in terms of obloquy. Homer, he thinks, should be taken +out and whipped. Hesiod he considers to be the teacher of the common +herd, one with them, "a man," he says, "who does not even know day and +night." Upon the common herd of mortals he looks down with infinite +scorn. Some of his sayings remind us not a little of Schopenhauer in +their pungency and sharpness. "Asses prefer straw to {73} gold." "Dogs +bark at everyone they do not know." Many of his sayings, however, are +memorable and trenchant epitomes of practical wisdom. "Man's character +is his fate." "Physicians who cut, burn, stab and rack the sick, +demand a fee for doing it, which they do not deserve to get." From his +aloof and aristocratic standpoint he launched forth denunciations +against the democracy of Ephesus. + +Heracleitus embodied his philosophical thoughts in a prose treatise, +which was well-known at the time of Socrates, but of which only +fragments have come down to us. His style soon became proverbial for +its difficulty and obscurity, and he gained the nickname of +Heracleitus the "Dark," or the "Obscure." Socrates said of his work +that what he understood of it was excellent, what not, he believed was +equally so, but that the book required a tough swimmer. He has even +been accused of intentional obscurity. But there does not seem to be +any foundation for this charge. The fact is that if he takes no great +trouble to explain his thoughts, neither does he take any trouble to +conceal them. He does not write for fools. His attitude appears to be +that if his readers understand him, well; if not, so much the worse +for his readers. He wastes no time in elaborating and explaining his +thought, but embodies it in short, terse, pithy, and pregnant sayings. + + +His philosophical principle is the direct antithesis of Eleaticism. +The Eleatics had taught that only Being is, and Becoming is not at +all. All change, all Becoming is mere illusion. For Heracleitus, on +the contrary, only Becoming is, and Being, permanence, identity, these +are nothing but illusion. All things sublunary are {74} perpetually +changing, passing over into new forms and new shapes. Nothing stands, +nothing holds fast, nothing remains what it is. "Into the same river," +he says, "we go down, and we do not go down; for into the same river +no man can enter twice; ever it flows in and flows out." Not only does +he deny all absolute permanence, but even a relative permanence of +things is declared to be illusory. We all know that everything has its +term, that all things arise and pass away, from the insects who live +an hour to the "eternal" hills. Yet we commonly attribute to these +things at least a relative permanence, a shorter or longer continuance +in the same state. But even this Heracleitus will not allow. Nothing +is ever the same, nothing remains identical from one consecutive +moment to another. The appearance of relative permanence is an +illusion, like that which makes us think that a wave passing over the +surface of the water remains all the time the same identical wave. +Here, as we know, the water of which the wave is composed changes from +moment to moment, only the form remaining the same. Precisely so, for +Heracleitus, the permanent appearance of things results from the +inflow and outflow in them of equivalent quantities of substance. "All +is flux." It is not, for example, the same sun which sets to-day and +rises to-morrow. It is a new sun. For the fire of the sun burns itself +out and is replenished from the vapours of the sea. + +Not only do things change from moment to moment. Even in one and the +same moment they are and are not the same. It is not merely that a +thing first is, and then a moment afterwards, is not. It both is and +is not at the same time. The at-onceness of "is" and "is not" {75} is +the meaning of Becoming. We shall understand this better if we +contrast it with the Eleatic principle. The Eleatics described all +things under two concepts, Being and not-being. Being has, for them, +all truth, all reality. Not-being is wholly false and illusory. For +Heracleitus both Being and not-being are equally real. The one is as +true as the other. Both are true, for both are identical. Becoming is +the identity of Being and not-being. For Becoming has only two forms, +namely, the arising of things and their passing away, their beginning +and their end, their origination and their decease. Perhaps you may +think that this is not correct, that there are other forms of change +besides origination and decease. A man is born. That is his +origination. He dies. That is his decease. Between his birth and his +death there are intermediate changes. He grows larger, grows older, +grows wiser or more foolish, his hair turns grey. So also the leaf of +a tree does not merely come into being and pass out of being. It +changes in shape, form, colour. From light green it becomes dark +green, and from dark green, yellow. But there is after all nothing in +all this except origination and decease, not of the thing itself, but +of its qualities. The change from green to yellow is the decease of +green colour, the origination of yellow colour. Origination is the +passage of not-being into Being. Decease is the passage of Being into +not-being. Becoming, then, has in it only the two factors of Being and +not-being, and it means the passing of one into the other. But this +passage does not mean, for Heracleitus, that at one moment there is +Being, and at the next moment not-being. It means that Being and +not-being are in everything at one and the same time. Being is {76} +not-being. Being has not-being in it. Take as an example the problem +of life and death. Ordinarily we think that death is due to external +causes, such as accident or disease. We consider that while life +lasts, it is what it is, and remains what it is, namely life, unmixed +with death, and that it goes on being life until something comes from +outside, as it were, in the shape of external causes, and puts an end +to it. You may have read Metchnikoff's book "The Nature of Man." In +the course of that book he develops this idea. Death, he says, is +always due to external causes. Therefore, if we could remove the +causes, we could conquer death. The causes of death are mostly disease +and accident, for even old age is disease. There is no reason why +science should not advance so far as to eliminate disease and accident +from life. In that case life might be made immortal, or at any rate, +indefinitely prolonged. Now this is founded upon a confusion of ideas. +No doubt death is always due to external causes. Every event in the +world is determined, and wholly determined, by causes. The law of +causation admits of no exception whatever. Therefore it is perfectly +true that in every case of death causes precede it. But, as I +explained in the last chapter, [Footnote 6] to give the cause is not +to give any reason for an event. Causation is never a principle of +explanation of anything. It tells us that the phenomenon A is +invariably and unconditionally followed by the phenomenon B, and we +call A the cause of B. But this only means that whenever B happens, it +happens in a certain regular order and succession of events. But it +does not tell us why B happens at all. The reason of a thing is to be +{77} distinguished from its cause. The reason why a man dies is not to +be found in the causes which bring about his death. The reason rather +is that life has the germ of death already in it, that life is already +death potentially, that Being has not-being in it. The causation of +death is merely the mechanism, by the instrumentality of which, +through one set of causes or another, the inevitable end is brought +about. + +[Footnote 6: Page 64.] + +Not only is Being, for Heracleitus, identical with not-being, but +everything in the universe has in it its own opposite. Every existent +thing is a "harmony of opposite tensions." A harmony contains +necessarily two opposite principles which, in spite of their +opposition, reveal an underlying unity. That it is by virtue of this +principle that everything in the universe exists, is the teaching of +Heracleitus. All things contain their own opposites within them. In +the struggle and antagonism between hostile principles consists their +life, their being, their very existence. At the heart of things is +conflict. If there were no conflict in a thing, it would cease to +exist. This idea is expressed by Heracleitus in a variety of ways. +"Strife," he says, "is the father of all things." "The one, sundering +from itself, coalesces with itself, like the harmony of the bow and +the lyre." "God is day and night, summer and winter, war and peace, +satiety and hunger." "Join together whole and unwhole, congruous and +incongruous, accordant and discordant, then comes from one all and +from all one." In this sense, too, he censures Homer for having prayed +that strife might cease from among gods and men. If such a prayer were +granted, the universe itself would pass away. + +{78} + +Side by side with this metaphysic, Heracleitus lays down a theory of +physics. All things are composed of fire. "This world," he says, +"neither one of the gods nor of the human race has made; but it is, it +was, and ever shall be, an eternally living fire." All comes from +fire, and to fire all returns. "All things are exchanged for fire and +fire for all, as wares for gold and gold for wares." Thus there is +only one ultimate kind of matter, fire, and all other forms of matter +are merely modifications and variations of fire. It is clear for what +reason Heracleitus enunciated this principle. It is an exact physical +parallel to the metaphysical principle of Becoming. Fire is the most +mutable of the elements. It does not remain the same from one moment +to another. It is continually taking up matter in the form of fuel, +and giving off equivalent matter in the form of smoke and vapour. The +primal fire, according to Heracleitus, transmutes itself into air, air +into water, and water into earth. This he calls "the downward path." +To it corresponds "the upward path," the transmutation of earth into +water, water to air, and air to fire. All transformation takes place +in this regular order, and therefore, says Heracleitus, "the upward +and the downward path are one." + +Fire is further specially identified with life and reason. It is the +rational element in things. The more fire there is, the more life, the +more movement. The more dark and heavy materials there are, the more +death, cold, and not-being. The soul, accordingly, is fire, and like +all other fires it continually burns itself out and needs +replenishment. This it obtains, through the senses and the breath, +from the common life and reason of the {79} world, that is, from the +surrounding and all-pervading fire. In this we live and move and have +our being. No man has a separate soul of his own. It is merely part of +the one universal soul-fire. Hence if communication with this is cut +off, man becomes irrational and finally dies. Sleep is the half-way +house to death. In sleep the passages of the senses are stopped up, +and the outer fire reaches us only through breath. Hence in sleep we +become irrational and senseless, turning aside from the common life of +the world, each to a private world of his own. Heracleitus taught also +the doctrine of periodic world-cycles. The world forms itself out of +fire, and by conflagration passes back to the primitive fire. + +In his religious opinions Heracleitus was sceptical. But he does not, +like Xenophanes, direct his attacks against the central ideas of +religion, and the doctrine of the gods. He attacks mostly the outward +observances and forms in which the religious spirit manifests itself. +He inveighs against the worship of images, and urges the uselessness +of blood sacrifice. + +With the Eleatics he distinguishes between sense and reason, and +places truth in rational cognition. The illusion of permanence he +ascribes to the senses. It is by reason that we rise to the knowledge +of the law of Becoming. In the comprehension of this law lies the duty +of man, and the only road to happiness. Understanding this, man +becomes resigned and contented. He sees that evil is the necessary +counterpart of good, and pain the necessary counterpart of pleasure, +and that both together are necessary to form the harmony of the world. +Good and evil are principles on the struggle {80} between which the +very existence of things depends. Evil, too, is necessary, has its +place in the world. To see this is to put oneself above pitiful and +futile struggles against the supreme law of the universe. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +EMPEDOCLES + +Empedocles was a man of Agrigentum in Sicily. The dates of his birth +and death are placed about 495 and 435 B.C. respectively. Like +Pythagoras, he possessed a powerful and magnetic personality. Hence +all kinds of legends quickly grew up and wove themselves round his +life and death. He was credited with the performance of miracles, and +romantic stories were circulated about his death. A man of much +persuasive eloquence he raised himself to the leadership of the +Agrigentine democracy, until he was driven out into exile. + +The philosophy of Empedocles is eclectic in character. Greek +philosophy had now developed a variety of conflicting principles, and +the task of Empedocles is to reconcile these, and to weld them +together in a new system, containing however no new thought of its +own. In speaking of Parmenides, I pointed out that his teaching may be +interpreted either in an idealistic or a materialistic sense, and that +these two aspects of thought lie side by side in Parmenides, and that +it is possible to emphasize either the one or the other. Empedocles +seizes upon the materialistic side. The essential thought of +Parmenides was that Being cannot pass into not-being, nor not-being +into Being. Whatever is, remains for ever what it is. {82} If we take +that in a purely material context, what it means is that matter has +neither beginning nor end, is uncreated and indestructible. And this +is the first basic principle of Empedocles. On the other hand, +Heracleitus had shown that becoming and change cannot be denied. This +is the second basic principle of Empedocles. That there is no absolute +becoming, no creation, and utter destruction of things, and yet that +things do somehow arise and pass away, this must be explained, these +contradictory ideas must be reconciled. Now if we assert that matter +is uncreated and indestructible, and yet that things arise and pass +away, there is only one way of explaining this. We must suppose that +objects, as wholes begin and cease to be, but that the material +particles of which they are composed are uncreated and indestructible. +This thought now forms the first principle of Empedocles, and of his +successors, Anaxagoras, and the Atomists. + +Now the Ionic philosophers had taught that all things are composed of +some one ultimate matter. Thales believed it to be water, Anaximenes +air. This necessarily involved that the ultimate kind of matter must +be capable of transformation into other kinds of matter. If it is +water, then water must be capable of turning into brass, wood, iron, +air, or whatever other kind of matter exists. And the same thing +applies to the air of Anaximenes. Parmenides, however, had taught that +whatever is, remains always the same, no change or transformation +being possible. Empedocles here too follows Parmenides, and interprets +his doctrine in his own way. One kind of matter, he thinks, can never +change into another kind of matter; fire never becomes {83} water, nor +does earth ever become air. This leads Empedocles at once to a +doctrine of elements. The word "elements," indeed, is of later +invention, and Empedocles speaks of the elements as "the roots of +all." There are four elements, earth, air, fire, and water. Empedocles +was therefore the originator of the familiar classification of the +four elements. All other kinds of matter are to be explained as +mixtures, in various proportions, of these four. Thus all origination +and decease, as well as the differential qualities of certain kinds of +matter, are now explained by the mixing and unmixing of the four +elements. All becoming is simply composition and decomposition. + +But the coming together and separation of the elements involves the +movement of particles, and to explain this there must exist some +moving force. The Ionic philosophers had assumed that matter has the +power or force required for movement immanent in itself. The air of +Anaximenes, of its own inherent power, transforms itself into other +kinds of matter. This doctrine Empedocles rejects. Matter is for him +absolutely dead and lifeless, without any principle of motion in +itself. There is, therefore, only one remaining possibility. Forces +acting upon matter from the outside must be assumed. And as the two +essential processes of the world, mixing and unmixing, are opposite in +character, so there must be two opposite forces. These he calls by the +names Love and Hate, or Harmony and Discord. Though these terms may +have an idealistic sound, Empedocles conceives them as entirely +physical and material forces. But he identifies the attractions and +repulsions of human beings, which we call love and hate, with the +universally operating forces of the material world. Human love and +{84} hate are but the manifestations in us of the mechanical forces of +attraction and repulsion at work in the world at large. + +Empedocles taught the doctrine of periodic world-cycles. The +world-process is, therefore, properly speaking, circular, and has +neither beginning nor end. But in describing this process one must +begin somewhere. We will begin, then, with the sphairos (sphere). In +the primeval sphere the four elements are completely mixed, and +interpenetrate each other completely. Water is not separated off from +air, nor air from earth. All are chaotically mixed together. In any +portion of the sphere there must be an equal quantity of earth, air, +fire and water. The elements are thus in union, and the sole force +operative within the sphere is Love or Harmony. Hence the sphere is +called a "blessed god." Hate, however, exists all round the outside of +the sphere. Hate gradually penetrates from the circumference towards +the centre and introduces the process of separation and disunion of +the elements. This process continues till, like coming together with +like, the elements are wholly separated. All the water is together; +all the fire is together, and so on. When this process of +disintegration is complete, Hate is supreme and Love is entirely +driven out. But Love again begins to penetrate matter, to cause union +and mixture of the elements, and finally brings the world back to the +state of the original sphere. Then the same process begins again. At +what position in this circular movement is our present world to be +placed? The answer is that it is neither in the complete union of the +sphere, nor is it completely disintegrated. It is half-way between the +sphere and the stage of total {85} disintegration. It is proceeding +from the former towards the later, and Hate is gradually gaining the +upper hand. In the formation of the present world from the sphere the +first element to be separated off was air, next fire, then the earth. +Water is squeezed out of the earth by the rapidity of its rotation. +The sky is composed of two halves. One is of fire, and this is the +day. The other is dark matter with masses of fire scattered about in +it, and this is the night. + +Empedocles believed in the transmigration of souls. He also put +forward a theory of sense-perception, the essential of which is that +like perceives like. The fire in us perceives external fire, and so +with the other elements. Sight is caused by effluences of the fire and +water of the eyes meeting similar effluences from external objects. + +{86} + +CHAPTER VII + +THE ATOMISTS + +The founder of the Atomist philosophy was Leucippus. Practically +nothing is known of his life. The date of his birth, the date of his +death, and his place of residence, are alike unknown, but it is +believed that he was a contemporary of Empedocles and Anaxagoras. +Democritus was a citizen of Abdera in Thrace. He was a man of the +widest learning, as learning was understood in his day. A passion for +knowledge and the possession of adequate means for the purpose, +determined him to undertake extensive travels in order to acquire the +wisdom and knowledge of other nations. He travelled largely in Egypt, +also probably in Babylonia. The date of his death is unknown, but he +certainly lived to a great age, estimated at from ninety to one +hundred years. Exactly what were the respective contributions of +Leucippus and Democritus to the Atomist philosophy, is also a matter +of doubt. But it is believed that all the essentials of this +philosophy were the work of Leucippus, and that Democritus applied and +extended them, worked out details, and made the theory famous. + +Now we saw that the philosophy of Empedocles was based upon an attempt +to reconcile the doctrine of Parmenides with the doctrine of +Heracleitus. The {87} fundamental thought of Empedocles was that there +is no absolute becoming in the strict sense, no passage of Being into +not-being or not-being into Being. Yet the objects of the senses do, +in some way, arise and pass away, and the only method by which this is +capable of explanation is to suppose that objects, as whole objects, +come to be and cease to be, but that the material particles of which +they are composed are eternally existent. But the detailed development +which Empedocles gave to this principle was by no means satisfactory. +In the first place, if we hold that all objects are composed of parts, +and that all becoming is due to the mixing and unmixing of +pre-existent matter, we must have a theory of particles. And we do +hear vaguely of physical particles in the doctrine of Empedocles, but +no definition is given of their nature, and no clear conception is +formed of their character. Secondly, the moving forces of Empedocles, +Love and Hate, are fanciful and mythological. Lastly, though there are +in Empedocles traces of the doctrine that the qualities of things +depend on the position and arrangement of their particles, this idea +is not consistently developed. For Empedocles there are only four +ultimate kinds of matter, qualitatively distinguished. The +differential qualities of all other kinds of matter must, therefore, +be due to the mixing of these four elements. Thus the qualities of the +four elements are ultimate and underived, but all other qualities must +be founded upon the position and arrangement of particles of the four +elements. This is the beginning of the mechanical explanation of +quality. But to develop this theory fully and consistently, it should +be shown, not merely that some qualities are ultimate and some {88} +derived from position and arrangement of particles, but that all +quality whatever is founded upon position and arrangement. All +becoming is explained by Empedocles as the result of motion of +material particles. To bring this mechanical philosophy to its logical +conclusion, all qualitativeness of things must be explained in the +same way. Hence it was impossible that the philosophy of mechanism and +materialism should stand still in the position in which Empedocles +left it. It had to advance to the position of Atomism. The Atomists, +therefore, maintain the essential position of Empedocles, after +eliminating the inconsistencies which we have just noted. The +philosophy of Empedocles is therefore to be considered as merely +transitional in character. + +First, the Atomists developed the theory of particles. According to +Leucippus and Democritus, if matter were divided far enough, we should +ultimately come to indivisible units. These indivisible units are +called atoms, and atoms are therefore the ultimate constituents of +matter. They are infinite in number, and are too small to be +perceptible to the senses. Empedocles had assumed four different kinds +of matter. But, for the Atomists, there is only one kind. All the +atoms are composed of exactly the same kind of matter. With certain +exceptions, which I will mention in a moment, they possess no quality. +They are entirely non-qualitative, the only differences between them +being differences of quantity. They differ in size, some being larger, +some smaller. And they likewise differ in shape. Since the ultimate +particles of things thus possess no quality, all the actual qualities +of objects must be due to the {89} arrangement and position of the +atoms. This is the logical development of the tentative mechanism of +Empedocles. + +I said that the atoms possess no qualities. They must, however, be +admitted to possess the quality of solidity, or impenetrability, since +they are defined as being indivisible. Moreover it is a question +whether the atoms of Democritus and Leucippus were thought to possess +weight, or whether the weight of objects is to be explained, like +other qualities, by the position and movement of the atoms. There is +no doubt that the Epicureans of a later date considered the atoms to +have weight. The Epicureans took over the atomism of Democritus and +Leucippus, with few modifications, and made it the basis of their own +teaching. They ascribed weight to the atoms, and the only question is +whether this was a modification introduced by them, or whether it was +part of the original doctrine of Democritus and Leucippus. + +The atoms are bounded, and separated off from each other. Therefore, +they must be separated by something, and this something can only be +empty space. Moreover, since all becoming and all qualitativeness of +things are to be explained by the mixing and unmixing of atoms, and +since this involves movement of the atoms, for this reason also empty +space must be assumed to exist, for nothing can move unless it has +empty space to move in. Hence there are two ultimate realities, atoms +and empty space. These correspond respectively to the Being and +not-being of the Eleatics. But whereas the latter denied any reality +to not-being, the Atomists affirm that not-being, that is, empty +space, is just as real as being. Not-being also exists. "Being," said +{90} Democritus, "is by nothing more real than nothing." The atoms +being non-qualitative, they differ in no respect from empty space, +except that they are "full." Hence atoms and the void are also called +the _plenum_ and the _vacuum_. + +How, now, is the movement of the atoms brought about? Since all +becoming is due to the separation and aggregation of atoms, a moving +force is required. What is this moving force? This depends upon the +question whether atoms have weight. If we assume that they have +weight, then the origin of the world, and the motion of atoms, becomes +clear. In the system of the Epicureans the original movement of the +atoms is due to their weight, which causes them to fall perpetually +downwards through infinite space. Of course the Atomists had no true +ideas of gravitation, nor did they understand that there is no +absolute up and down. The large atoms are heavier than the smaller. +The matter of which they are composed is always the same. Therefore, +volume for volume, they weigh the same. Their weight is thus +proportional to their size, and if one atom is twice as large as +another, it will also be twice as heavy. Here the Atomists made +another mistake, in supposing that heavier things fall in a vacuum +more quickly than light things. They fall, as a matter of fact, with +the same speed. But according to the Atomists, the heavier atoms, +falling faster, strike against the lighter, and push them to one side +and upwards. Through this general concussion of atoms a vortex is +formed, in which like atoms come together with like. From the +aggregation of atoms worlds are created. As space is infinite and the +atoms go on falling eternally, there must have been innumerable worlds +of which our world is only one. {91} When the aggregated atoms fall +apart again, this particular world will cease to exist. But all this +depends upon the theory that the atoms have weight. According to +Professor Burnet, however, the weight of atoms is a later addition of +the Epicureans. If that is so, it is very difficult to say how the +early Atomists, Leucippus and Democritus, explained the original +motion. What was their moving force, if it was not weight? If the +atoms have no weight, their original movement cannot have been a fall. +"It is safest to say," says Professor Burnet, "that it is simply a +confused motion this way and that." [Footnote 7] Probably this is a +very _safe_ thing to say, because it means nothing in particular. Motion +itself cannot be confused. It is only our ideas of motion which can be +confused. If this theory is correct, then, we can only say that the +Atomists had no definite solution of the problem of the origin of +motion and the character of the moving force. They apparently saw no +necessity for explanation, which seems unlikely in view of the fact +that Empedocles had already seen the necessity of solving the problem, +and given a definite, if unsatisfactory, solution, in his theory of +Love and Hate. This remark would apply to Democritus, if not to +Leucippus. + +[Footnote 7: _Early Greek Philosophy_, chap. ix. § 179.] + +The Atomists also spoke of all movement being under the force of +"necessity." Anaxagoras was at this time teaching that all motion of +things is produced by a world-intelligence, or reason. Democritus +expressly opposes to this the doctrine of necessity. There is no +reason or intelligence in the world. On the contrary, all phenomena +and all becoming are completely determined by blind mechanical causes. +In this connection there arises {92} among the Atomists a polemic +against the popular gods and the popular religion. Belief in gods +Democritus explains as being due to fear of great terrestrial and +astronomical phenomena, such as volcanoes, earthquakes, comets, and +meteors. But somewhat inconsistently with this, Democritus believed +that the air is inhabited by beings resembling men, but larger and of +longer life, and explained belief in the gods as being due to +projection from these of images of themselves composed of atoms which +impinge upon human senses, and produce the ideas of gods. + +Different kinds of matter must be explained, in any atomic theory, by +the shape, size, and position of the atoms of which they are composed. +Thus the Atomists taught that fire is composed of smooth round atoms. +The soul is also composed of smooth round atoms, and is an +exceptionally pure and refined fire. At death the soul atoms are +scattered, and hence there is, of course, no question of a future +life. Democritus also put forward a theory of perception, according to +which objects project into space images of themselves composed of +atoms. These images strike against the senses. Like atoms are +perceived by like. Thought is true when the soul is equable in +temperature. The sensible qualities of things, such as smell, taste, +colour, do not exist in the things themselves, but merely express the +manner in which they affect our senses, and are therefore relative to +us. A number of the ethical maxims of Democritus have come down to us. +But they are not based in any way upon the Atomic theory, and cannot +be deduced from it. Hence they have no scientific foundation but are +merely detached sayings, epitomizing the experience {93} and worldly +wisdom of Democritus. That one should enjoy oneself as much and vex +oneself as little as possible seems to have been his principal idea. +This, however, is not to be interpreted in any low, degraded, or +sensual way. On the contrary, Democritus says that the happiness of +man does not depend on material possessions, but upon the state of the +soul. He praises equanimity and cheerfulness, and these are best +attained, he thinks, by moderation and simplicity. + + + +{94} + +CHAPTER VIII + +ANAXAGORAS + +Anaxagoras was born at Clazomenae in Asia Minor about 500 B.C. He was +a man of noble family, and possessed considerable property. He +neglected his property in the search for knowledge and in the pursuit +of science and philosophy. Leaving his home at Clazomenae, he settled +down in Athens. We have not heard so far anything of Athens in the +history of Greek Philosophy. It was Anaxagoras who transplanted +philosophy to Athens, which from his time forward became the chief +centre of Greek thought. At Athens, Anaxagoras came into contact with +all the famous men of the time. He was an intimate friend of Pericles, +the statesman, and of Euripides, the poet. But his friendship with +Pericles cost him dear. There was a strong political faction opposed +to Pericles. So far as we know Anaxagoras never meddled in politics, +but he was a friend of the statesman Pericles, and that was quite +enough. The enemies of Pericles determined to teach Anaxagoras a +lesson, and a charge of atheism and blasphemy was accordingly brought +against him. The particulars of the charge were that Anaxagoras said +that the sun was a red-hot stone, and that the moon was made of earth. +This was quite true, as that is exactly what Anaxagoras did say of the +sun and the moon. But the Greeks {95} regarded the heavenly bodies as +gods; even Plato and Aristotle thought that the stars were divine +beings. To call the sun a red-hot stone, and to say that the moon was +made of earth, was therefore blasphemy according to Greek ideas. +Anaxagoras was charged, tried, and condemned. The details of the +trial, and of what followed, are not known with accuracy. But it +appears that Anaxagoras escaped, probably with the help of Pericles, +and from Athens went back to his native country in Asia Minor. He +settled at Lampsacus, and died there at the age of 72. He was the +author of a treatise in which he wrote down his philosophical ideas. +This treatise was well-known at the time of Socrates, but only +fragments now remain. + +The foundation of the philosophy of Anaxagoras is the same as that of +Empedocles and the Atomists. He denied any absolute becoming in the +strict sense of the passing of being into not-being and not-being into +being. Matter is uncreated and indestructible, and all becoming must +be accounted for by the mixing and unmixing of its component parts. +This principle Anaxagoras himself expressed with great clearness, in a +fragment of his treatise which has come down to us. "The Greeks," he +says, "erroneously assume origination and destruction, for nothing +originates and nothing is destroyed. All is only mixed and unmixed out +of pre-existent things, and it were more correct to call the one +process composition and the other process decomposition." + +The Atomists had assumed the ultimate constituents of things to be +atoms composed of the same kind of matter. Empedocles had believed in +four ultimate and underived kinds of matter. With neither of these +does Anaxagoras agree. For him, all the different kinds of {96} matter +are equally ultimate and underived, that is to say, such things as +gold, bone, hair, earth, water, wood, etc., are ultimate kinds of +matter, which do not arise from anything else, and do not pass over +into one another. He also disagrees with the conception of the +Atomists that if matter is divided far enough, ultimate and +indivisible particles will be reached. According to Anaxagoras matter +is infinitely divisible. In the beginning all these kinds of matter +were mixed together in a chaotic mass. The mass stretches infinitely +throughout space. The different kinds of matter wholly intermingle and +interpenetrate each other. The process of world-formation is brought +about by the unmixing of the conglomeration of all kinds of matter, +and the bringing together of like matter with like. Thus the gold +particles separating out of the mass come together, and form gold; the +wood particles come together and form wood, and so on. But as matter +is infinitely divisible and the original mixing of the elements was +complete, they were, so to speak, mixed to an infinite extent. +Therefore the process of unmixing would take infinite time, is now +going on, and will always go on. Even in the purest element there is +still a certain admixture of particles of other kinds of matter. There +is no such thing as pure gold. Gold is merely matter in which the gold +particles predominate. + +As with Empedocles and the Atomists, a moving force is required to +explain the world-process of unmixing. What, in the philosophy of +Anaxagoras, is this force? Now up to the present point the philosophy +of Anaxagoras does not rise above the previous philosophies of +Empedocles and the Atomists. On the contrary, in clearness {97} and +logical consistency, it falls considerably below the teaching of the +latter. But it is just here, on the question of the moving force, that +Anaxagoras becomes for the first time wholly original, and introduces +a principle peculiar to himself, a principle, moreover, which is +entirely new in philosophy. Empedocles had taken as his moving forces, +Love and Hate, mythical and fanciful on the one hand, and yet purely +physical on the other. The forces of the Atomists were also completely +material. But Anaxagoras conceives the moving force as wholly +non-physical and incorporeal. It is called Nous, that is, mind or +intelligence. It is intelligence which produces the movement in things +which brings about the formation of the world. What was it, now, which +led Anaxagoras to the doctrine of a world-governing intelligence? It +seems that he was struck with the apparent design, order, beauty and +harmony of the universe. These things, he thought, could not be +accounted for by blind forces. The world is apparently a rationally +governed world. It moves towards definite ends. Nature shows plentiful +examples of the adaptation of means to ends. There appears to be plan +and purpose in the world. The Atomists had assumed nothing but matter +and physical force. How can design, order, harmony and beauty be +brought about by blind forces acting upon chaotic matter? Blind forces +acting upon a chaos would produce motion and change. But the change +would be meaningless and purposeless. They could not produce a +rationally ordered cosmos. One chaos would succeed another chaos ad +infinitum. That alone which can produce law and order is intelligence. +There must therefore be a world-controlling Nous. + +{98} + +What is the character of the Nous, according to Anaxagoras? Is it, in +the first place, really conceived as purely non-material and +incorporeal? Aristotle, who was in a position to know more of the +matter than any modern scholar, clearly implies in his criticism that +the Nous of Anaxagoras is an incorporeal principle, and he has been +followed in this by the majority of the best modern writers, such as +Zeller and Erdmann. But the opposite view has been maintained, by +Grote, for example, and more recently by Professor Burnet, who thinks +that Anaxagoras conceived the Nous as a material and physical force. +[Footnote 8] As the matter is of fundamental importance, I will +mention the chief arguments upon which Professor Burnet rests his +case. In the first place Anaxagoras described the Nous as the +"thinnest and purest of all things." He also said that it was +"unmixed," that it had in it no mixture of anything besides itself. +Professor Burnet argues that such words as "thin" and "unmixed" would +be meaningless in connection with an incorporeal principle. Only +material things can properly be described as thin, pure, and unmixed. +Secondly, Professor Burnet thinks that it is quite certain that the +Nous occupies space, for Anaxagoras speaks of greater and smaller +portions of it. Greater and smaller are spatial relations. Hence the +Nous occupies space, and that which occupies space is material. But +surely these are very inconclusive arguments. In the first place as +regards the use of the words "thin" and "unmixed." It is true that +these terms express primarily physical qualities. But, as I pointed +out in {99} the first chapter, almost all words by which we seek to +express incorporeal ideas have originally a physical signification. +And if Anaxagoras is to be called a materialist because he described +the Nous as thin, then we must also plead guilty to materialism if we +say that the thought of Plato is "luminous," or that the mind of +Aristotle is "clear." The fact is that all philosophy labours under +the difficulty of having to express non-sensuous thought in language +which has been evolved for the purpose of expressing sensuous ideas. +There is no philosophy in the world, even up to the present day, in +which expressions could not be found in plenty which are based upon +the use of physical analogies to express entirely non-physical ideas. +Then as regards the Nous occupying space, it is not true that greater +and smaller are necessarily spatial relations. They are also +qualitative relations of degree. I say that the mind of Plato is +greater than the mind of Callias. Am I to be called a materialist? Am +I to be supposed to mean that Plato's mind occupies more space than +that of Callias? And it is certainly in this way that Anaxagoras uses +the terms. "All Nous," he says, "is alike, both the greater and the +smaller." He means thereby that the world-forming mind (the greater) +is identical in character with the mind of man (the smaller). For +Anaxagoras it is the one Nous which animates all living beings, men, +animals, and even plants. These different orders of beings are +animated by the same Nous but in different degrees, that of man being +the greatest. But this does not mean that the Nous in man occupies +more space than the Nous in a plant. But even if Anaxagoras did +conceive the Nous as spatial, it does not follow that he {100} +regarded it as material. The doctrine of the non-spatiality of mind is +a modern doctrine, never fully developed till the time of Descartes. +And to say that Anaxagoras did not realize that mind is non-spatial is +merely to say that he lived before the time of Descartes. No doubt it +would follow from this that the incorporeality of mind is vaguely and +indistinctly conceived by Anaxagoras, that the antithesis between +matter and mind is not so sharply drawn by him as it is by us. But +still the antithesis is conceived, and therefore it is correct to say +that the Nous of Anaxagoras is an incorporeal principle. The whole +point of this introduction of the Nous into the philosophy of +Anaxagoras is because he could not explain the design and order of the +universe on a purely physical basis. + +[Footnote 8: _Early Greek Philosophy_, chap. vi. § 132.] + +The next characteristic of Nous is that it is to be thought of as +essentially the ground of motion. It is because he cannot in any other +way explain purposive motion that Anaxagoras introduces mind into his +otherwise materialistic system. Mind plays the part of the moving +force which explains the world-process of unmixing. As the ground of +motion, the Nous is itself unmoved; for if there were any motion in it +we should have to seek for the ground of this motion in something else +outside it. That which is the cause of all motion, cannot itself be +moved. Next, the Nous is absolutely pure and unmixed with anything +else. It exists apart, by itself, wholly in itself, and for itself. In +contrast to matter, it is uncompounded and simple. It is this which +gives it omnipotence, complete power over everything, because there is +no mixture of matter in it to limit it, to clog and hinder its +activities. We moderns are {101} inclined to ask the question whether +the Nous is personal. Is it, for example, a personal being like the +God of the Christians? This is a question which it is almost +impossible to answer. Anaxagoras certainly never considered it. +According to Zeller, the Greeks had an imperfect and undeveloped +conception of personality. Even in Plato we find the same difficulty. +The antithesis between God as a personal and as an impersonal being, +is a wholly modern idea. No Greek ever discussed it. + +To come now to the question of the activity of the Nous and its +function in the philosophy of Anaxagoras, we must note that it is +essentially a world-forming, and not a world-creating, intelligence. +The Nous and matter exist side by side from eternity. It does not +create matter, but only arranges it. "All things were together," says +Anaxagoras, "infinitely numerous, infinitely little; then came the +Nous and set them in order." In this Anaxagoras showed a sound logical +sense. He based his idea of the existence of Nous upon the design +which exhibits itself in the world. In modern times the existence of +design in the world has been made the foundation of an argument for +the existence of God, which is known as the teleological argument. The +word teleology means the view of things as adapting means towards +purposive ends. To see intelligent design in the universe is to view +the universe teleologically. And the teleological argument for the +existence of God asserts that, as there is evidence of purpose in +nature, this must be due to an intelligent cause. But, as a matter of +fact, taken by itself, teleology cannot possibly be made the basis of +an argument for the existence of a world-creating intelligence, but +only for the existence of a world-designing {102} intelligence. If you +find in the desert the ruins of ancient cities and temples, you are +entitled to conclude therefrom, that there existed a mind which +designed these cities and buildings, and which arranged matter in that +purposive way, but you are not entitled to conclude that the mind +which designed the cities also created the matter out of which they +were made. Anaxagoras was, therefore, in that sense quite right. +Teleology is not evidence of a world-creating mind, and if we are to +prove that, we must have recourse to other lines of reasoning. + +In the beginning, then, there was a chaotic mixture of different kinds +of matter. The Nous produced a vortex at one point in the middle of +this mass. This vortex spread itself outwards in the mass of matter, +like rings caused by the fall of a stone in water. It goes on for ever +and continually draws more and more matter out of the infinite mass +into itself. The movement, therefore, is never-ending. It causes like +kinds of matter to come together with like, gold to gold, wood to +wood, water to water, and so on. It is to be noted, therefore, that +the action of the Nous is apparently confined to the first movement. +It acts only at the one central point, and every subsequent movement +is caused by the vortex itself, which draws in more and more of the +surrounding matter into itself. First are separated out the warm, dry, +and light particles, and these form the aether or upper air. Next come +the cold, moist, dark, and dense particles which form the lower air. +Rotation takes the latter towards the centre, and out of this the +earth is formed. The earth, as with Anaximenes, is a flat disc, borne +upon the air. The heavenly bodies consist of {103} masses of stone +which have been torn from the earth by the force of its rotation, and +being projected outwards become incandescent through the rapidity of +their movement. The moon is made of earth and reflects the light of +the sun. Anaxagoras was thus the first to give the true cause of the +moon's light. He was also the first to discover the true theory of +eclipses, since he taught that the solar eclipse is due to the +intervention of the moon between the sun and the earth, and that lunar +eclipses arise from the shadow of the earth falling upon the moon. He +believed that there are other worlds besides our own with their own +suns and moons. These worlds are inhabited. The sun, according to +Anaxagoras, is many times as large as the Peloponnese. The origin of +life upon the earth is accounted for by germs which existed in the +atmosphere, and which were brought down into the terrestrial slime by +rain water, and there fructified. Anaxagoras's theory of perception is +the opposite of the theories of Empedocles and the Atomists. +Perception takes place by unlike matter meeting unlike. + +Anaxagoras owes his importance in the history of philosophy to the +theory of the Nous. This was the first time that a definite +distinction had been made between the corporeal and incorporeal. +Anaxagoras is the last philosopher of the first period of Greek +philosophy. In the second chapter, [Footnote 9] I observed that this +first period is characterized by the fact that in it the Greek mind +looks only outward upon the external world. It attempts to explain the +operations of nature. It had not yet learned to look inward upon +itself. But the transition to the introspective study of mind is found +in the Nous of {104} Anaxagoras. Mind is now brought to the fore as a +problem for philosophy. To find reason, intelligence, mind, in all +things, in the State, in the individual, in external nature, this is +the characteristic of the second period of Greek philosophy. To have +formulated the antithesis between mind and matter is the most +important work of Anaxagoras. + +[Footnote 9: Pages 23-4.] + +Secondly, it is to the credit of Anaxagoras that he was the first to +introduce the idea of teleology into philosophy. The system of the +Atomists formed the logical completion of the mechanical theory of the +world. The theory of mechanism seeks to explain all things by causes. +But, as we saw, causation can explain nothing. The mechanism of the +world shows us by what means events are brought about, but it does not +explain why they are brought about at all. That can only be explained +by showing the reason for things, by exhibiting all process as a means +towards rational ends. To look to the beginning (cause) of things for +their explanation is the theory of mechanism. To look to their ends +for explanation of them is teleology. Anaxagoras was the first to have +dimly seen this. And for this reason Aristotle praises him, and, +contrasting him with the mechanists, Leucippus and Democritus, says +that he appears like "a sober man among vain babblers." The new +principle which he thus introduced into philosophy was developed, and +formed the central idea of Plato and Aristotle. To have realized the +twin antitheses of matter and mind, of mechanism and teleology, is the +glory of Anaxagoras. + +But it is just here, in the development of these two ideas, that the +defects of his system make their appearance. Firstly, he so separated +matter and mind that {105} his philosophy ends in sheer dualism. He +assumes the Nous and matter as existing from the beginning, side by +side, as equally ultimate and underived principles. A monistic +materialism would have derived the Nous from matter, and a monistic +idealism would have derived matter from the Nous. But Anaxagoras does +neither. Each is left, in his theory, an inexplicable ultimate +mystery. His philosophy is, therefore, an irreconcilable dualism. + +Secondly, his teleology turns out in the end to be only a new theory +of mechanism. The only reason which induces him to introduce the Nous +into the world, is because he cannot otherwise explain the origin of +movement. It is only the first movement of things, the formation of +the vortex, which he explains by mind. All subsequent process is +explained by the action of the vortex itself, which draws the +surrounding matter into itself. The Nous is thus nothing but another +piece of mechanism to account for the first impulse to motion. He +regards the Nous simply as a first cause, and thus the characteristic +of all mechanism, to look back to first causes, to the beginning, +rather than to the end of things for their explanation, appears here. +Aristotle, as usual, puts the matter in a nutshell. "Anaxagoras," he +says, "uses mind as a _deus ex machina_ to account for the formation +of the world, and whenever he is at a loss to explain why anything +necessarily is, he drags it in by force. But in other cases he assigns +as a cause for things anything else in preference to mind." [Footnote +10] + +[Footnote 10; Aristotle, _Metaphysics_, book i, chap. iv.] + + + +{106} + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SOPHISTS + +The first period of Greek philosophy closes with Anaxagoras. His +doctrine of the world-forming intelligence introduced a new principle +into philosophy, the principle of the antithesis between corporeal +matter and incorporeal mind, and therefore, by implication, the +antithesis between nature and man. And if the first period of +philosophy has for its problem the origin of the world, and the +explanation of the being and becoming of nature, the second period of +philosophy opens, in the Sophists, with the problem of the position of +man in the universe. The teaching of the earlier philosophers was +exclusively cosmological, that of the Sophists exclusively humanistic. +Later in this second period, these two modes of thought come together +and fructify one another. The problem of the mind and the problem of +nature are subordinated as factors of the great, universal, +all-embracing, world-systems of Plato and Aristotle. + +It is not possible to understand the activities and teaching of the +Sophists without some knowledge of the religious, political, and +social conditions of the time. After long struggles between the people +and the nobles, democracy had almost everywhere triumphed. But in +Greece democracy did not mean what we now mean by {107} that word. It +did not mean representative institutions, government by the people +through their elected deputies. Ancient Greece was never a single +nation under a single government. Every city, almost every hamlet, was +an independent State, governed only by its own laws. Some of these +States were so small that they comprised merely a handful of citizens. +All were so small that all the citizens could meet together in one +place, and themselves in person enact the laws and transact public +business. There was no necessity for representation. Consequently in +Greece every citizen was himself a politician and a legislator. In +these circumstances, partisan feeling ran to extravagant lengths. Men +forgot the interests of the State in the interests of party, and this +ended in men forgetting the interests of their party in their own +interests. Greed, ambition, grabbing, selfishness, unrestricted +egotism, unbridled avarice, became the dominant notes of the political +life of the time. + +Hand in hand with the rise of democracy went the decay of religion. +Belief in the gods was almost everywhere discredited. This was partly +due to the moral worthlessness of the Greek religion itself. Any +action, however scandalous or disgraceful, could be justified by the +examples of the gods themselves as related by the poets and +mythologers of Greece. But, in greater measure, the collapse of +religion was due to that advance of science and philosophy which we +have been considering in these lectures. The universal tendency of +that philosophy was to find natural causes for what had hitherto been +ascribed to the action of the divine powers, and this could not but +have an undermining effect upon popular {108} belief. Nearly all the +philosophers had been secretly, and many of them openly, antagonistic +to the people's religion. The attack was begun by Xenophanes; +Heracleitus carried it on; and lastly Democritus had attempted to +explain belief in the gods as being caused by fear of gigantic +terrestrial and astronomical phenomena. No educated man any longer +believed in divination, auguries, and miracles. A wave of rationalism +and scepticism passed over the Greek people. The age became one of +negative, critical, and destructive thought. Democracy had undermined +the old aristocratic institutions of the State, and science had +undermined religious orthodoxy. With the downfall of these two pillars +of things established, all else went too. All morality, all custom, +all authority, all tradition, were criticised and rejected. What was +regarded with awe and pious veneration by their fore-fathers the +modern Greeks now looked upon as fit subjects for jest and mockery. +Every restraint of custom, law, or morality, was resented as an +unwarrantable restriction upon the natural impulses of man. What alone +remained when these were thrust aside were the lust, avarice, and +self-will of the individual. + +The teaching of the Sophists was merely a translation into theoretical +propositions of these practical tendencies of the period. The Sophists +were the children of their time, and the interpreters of their age. +Their philosophical teachings were simply the crystallization of the +impulses which governed the life of the people into abstract +principles and maxims. + +Who and what were the Sophists? In the first place, they were not a +school of philosophers. They are not to be compared, for example, with +the Pythagoreans or {109} Eleatics. They had not, as a school has, any +system of philosophy held in common by them all. None of them +constructed systems of thought. They had in common only certain loose +tendencies of thought. Nor were they, as we understand the members of +a school to be, in any close personal association with one another. +They were a professional class rather than a school, and as such they +were scattered over Greece, and nourished among themselves the usual +professional rivalries. They were professional teachers and educators. +The rise of the Sophists was due to the growing demand for popular +education, which was partly a genuine demand for light and knowledge, +but was mostly a desire for such spurious learning as would lead to +worldly, and especially political, success. The triumph of democracy +had brought it about that political careers were now open to the +masses who had hitherto been wholly shut out from them. Any man could +rise to the highest positions in the State, if he were endowed with +cleverness, ready speech, whereby to sway the passions of the mob, and +a sufficient equipment in the way of education. Hence the demand arose +for such an education as would enable the ordinary man to carve out a +political career for himself. It was this demand which the Sophists +undertook to satisfy. They wandered about Greece from place to place, +they gave lectures, they took pupils, they entered into disputations. +For these services they exacted large fees. They were the first in +Greece to take fees for the teaching of wisdom. There was nothing +disgraceful in this in itself, but it had never been customary. The +wise men of Greece had never accepted any payment for their wisdom. +Socrates, who never accepted any payment, {110} but gave his wisdom +freely to all who sought it, somewhat proudly contrasted himself with +the Sophists in this respect. + +The Sophists were not, technically speaking, philosophers. They did +not specialise in the problems of philosophy. Their tendencies were +purely practical. They taught any subject whatever for the teaching of +which there was a popular demand. For example, Protagoras undertook to +impart to his pupils the principles of success as a politician or as a +private citizen. Gorgias taught rhetoric and politics, Prodicus +grammar and etymology, Hippias history, mathematics and physics. In +consequence of this practical tendency of the Sophists we hear of no +attempts among them to solve the problem of the origin of nature, or +the character of the ultimate reality. The Sophists have been +described as teachers of virtue, and the description is correct, +provided that the word virtue is understood in its Greek sense, which +did not restrict it to morality alone. For the Greeks, it meant the +capacity of a person successfully to perform his functions in the +State. Thus the virtue of a mechanic is to understand machinery, the +virtue of a physician to cure the sick, the virtue of a horse trainer +the ability to train horses. The Sophists undertook to train men to +virtue in this sense, to make them successful citizens and members of +the State. + +But the most popular career for a Greek of ability at the time was the +political, which offered the attraction of high positions in the +State. And for this career what was above all necessary was eloquence, +or if that were unattainable, at least ready speech, the ability to +argue, to meet every point as it arose, if not with sound {111} +reasoning, then with quick repartee. Hence the Sophists very largely +concentrated their energies upon the teaching of rhetoric. In itself +this was good. They were the first to direct attention to the science +of rhetoric, of which they may be considered the founders. But their +rhetoric also had its bad side, which indeed, soon became its only +side. The aims of the young politicians whom they trained were, not to +seek out the truth for its own sake, but merely to persuade the +multitude of whatever they wished them to believe. Consequently the +Sophists, like lawyers, not caring for the truth of the matter, +undertook to provide a stock of arguments on any subject, or to prove +any proposition. They boasted of their ability to make the worse +appear the better reason, to prove that black is white. Some of them, +like Gorgias, asserted that it was not necessary to have any knowledge +of a subject to give satisfactory replies as regards it. And Gorgias +ostentatiously undertook to answer any question on any subject +instantly and without consideration. To attain these ends mere +quibbling, and the scoring of verbal points, were employed. Hence our +word "sophistry." The Sophists, in this way, endeavoured to entangle, +entrap, and confuse their opponents, and even, if this were not +possible, to beat them down by mere violence and noise. They sought +also to dazzle by means of strange or flowery metaphors, by unusual +figures of speech, by epigrams and paradoxes, and in general by being +clever and smart, rather than earnest and truthful. When a man is +young he is often dazzled by brilliance and cleverness, by paradox and +epigram, but as he grows older he learns to discount these things and +to care chiefly for the substance and {112} truth of what is said. And +the Greeks were a young people. They loved clever sayings. And this it +is which accounts for the toleration which they extended even to the +most patent absurdities of the Sophists. The modern question whether a +man has ceased beating his wife is not more childish than many of the +rhetorical devices of the Sophists, and is indeed characteristic of +the methods of the more extravagant among them. + +The earliest known Sophist is Protagoras. He was born at Abdera, about +480 B.C. He wandered up and down Greece, and settled for some time at +Athens. At Athens, however, he was charged with impiety and atheism. +This was on account of a book written by him on the subject of the +gods, which began with the words, "As for the gods, I am unable to say +whether they exist or whether they do not exist." The book was +publicly burnt, and Protagoras had to fly from Athens. He fled to +Sicily, but was drowned on the way about the year 410 B.C. + +Protagoras was the author of the famous saying, "Man is the measure of +all things; of what is, that it is; of what is not, that it is not." +Now this saying puts in a nutshell, so to speak, the whole teaching of +Protagoras. And, indeed, it contains in germ the entire thought of the +Sophists. It is well, therefore, that we should fully understand +exactly what it means. The earlier Greek philosophers had made a clear +distinction between sense and thought, between perception and reason, +and had believed that the truth is to be found, not by the senses, but +by reason. The Eleatics had been the first to emphasize this +distinction. The ultimate reality of {113} things, they said, is pure +Being, which is known only through reason; it is the senses which +delude us with a show of becoming. Heracleitus had likewise affirmed +that the truth, which was, for him, the law of becoming, is known by +thought, and that it is the senses which delude us with a show of +permanence. Even Democritus believed that true being, that is, +material atoms, are so small that the senses cannot perceive them, and +only reason is aware of their existence. Now the teaching of +Protagoras really rests fundamentally upon the denying and confusing +of this distinction. If we are to see this, we must first of all +understand that reason is the universal, sensation the particular, +element in man. In the first place, reason is communicable, sensation +incommunicable. My sensations and feelings are personal to myself, and +cannot be imparted to other people. For example, no one can +communicate the sensation of redness to a colour-blind man, who has +not already experienced it. But a thought, or rational idea, can be +communicated to any rational being. Now suppose the question is +whether the angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal. We +may approach the problem in two ways. We may appeal either to the +senses or to reason. If we appeal to the senses, one man will come +forward and say that to him the angles look equal. Another man will +say that one angle looks bigger than the other, and so on. But if, +like Euclid, we appeal to reason, then it can be proved that the two +angles are equal, and there is no room left for mere personal +impressions, because reason is a law universally valid and binding +upon all men. My sensations are private and peculiar to myself. They +bind no one but myself. My {114} impressions about the triangle are +not a law to anyone except myself. But my reason I share with all +other rational beings. It is not a law for me merely, but for all. It +is one and the same reason in me and in other men. Reason, therefore, +is the universal, sensation the particular, element in man. Now it is +practically this distinction that Protagoras denied. Man, he said, is +the measure of all things. By man he did not mean mankind at large. He +meant the individual man. And by measure of all things he meant the +standard of the truth of all things. Each individual man is the +standard of what is true to himself. There is no truth except the +sensations and impressions of each man. What seems true to me is true +for me. What seems true to you is true for you. + +We commonly distinguish between subjective impressions and objective +truth. The words subjective and objective are constantly recurring +throughout the history of philosophy, and as this is the first time I +use them, I will explain them here. In every act of thought there must +necessarily be two terms. I am now looking at this desk and thinking +of this desk. There is the "I" which thinks, and there is the desk +which is thought. "I" am the subject of the thought, the desk is the +object of the thought. In general, the subject is that which thinks, +and the object is that which is thought. Subjective is that which +appertains to the subject, and objective is that which appertains to +the object. So the meaning of the distinction between subjective +impressions and the objective truth is clear. My personal impression +may be that the earth is flat, but the objective truth is that the +{115} earth is round. Travelling through a desert, I may be subject to +a mirage, and think that there is water in front of me. That is my +subjective impression. The objective truth is that there is nothing +but sand. The objective truth is something which has an existence of +its own, independent of me. It does not matter what I think, or what +you think, what I want, or what you want; the truth is what it is. We +must conform ourselves to the truth. Truth will not conform itself to +our personal inclinations, wishes, or impressions. The teaching of +Protagoras practically amounted to a denial of this. What it meant was +that there is no objective truth, no truth independent of the +individual subject. Whatever seems to the individual true is true for +that individual. Thus truth is identified with subjective sensations +and impressions. + +To deny the distinction between objective truth and subjective +impression is the same as to deny the distinction between reason and +sense. To my senses the earth seems flat. It looks flat to the eye. It +is only through reason that I know the objective truth that the world +is round. Reason, therefore, is the only possible standard of +objective truth. If you deny the rational element its proper part, it +follows that you will be left a helpless prey to diverse personal +impressions. The impressions yielded by the senses differ in different +people. One man sees a thing in one way, another sees it in another. +If, therefore, what seems to me true is true for me, and what seems to +you true is true for you, and if our impressions differ, it will +follow that two contradictory propositions must both be true. +Protagoras clearly understood this, {116} and did not flinch from the +conclusion. He taught that all opinions are true, that error is +impossible, and that, whatever proposition is put forward, it is +always possible to oppose to it a contradictory proposition with +equally good arguments and with equal truth. In reality, the result of +this procedure is to rob the distinction between truth and falsehood +of all meaning. It makes no difference whether we say that all +opinions are true, or whether we say that all are false. The words +truth and falsehood, in such context, have no meaning. To say that +whatever I feel is the truth for me means only that what I feel I +feel. To call this "truth for me," adds nothing to the meaning. + +Protagoras seems to have been led to these doctrines partly by +observing the different accounts of the same object which the +sense-organs yield to different people, and even to the same person at +different times. If knowledge depends upon these impressions, the +truth about the object cannot be ascertained. He was also influenced +by the teaching of Heracleitus. Heracleitus had taught that all +permanence is illusion. Everything is a perpetual becoming; all things +flow. What is at this moment, at the next moment is not. Even at one +and the same moment, Heracleitus believed, a thing is and is not. If +it is true to say that it is, it is equally true that it is not. And +this is, in effect, the teaching of Protagoras. + +The Protagorean philosophy thus amounts to a declaration that +knowledge is impossible. If there is no objective truth, there cannot +be any knowledge of it. The impossibility of knowledge is also the +standpoint of Gorgias. The title of his book is characteristic of +{117} the Sophistical love of paradox. It was called "On Nature, or +the non-existent." In this book he attempted to prove three +propositions, (1) that nothing exists: (2) that if anything exists, it +cannot be known: (3) that if it can be known, the knowledge of it +cannot be communicated. + +For proof of the first proposition, "nothing exists," Gorgias attached +himself to the school of the Eleatics, especially to Zeno. Zeno had +taught that in all multiplicity and motion, that is to say, in all +existence, there are irreconcilable contradictions. Zeno was in no +sense a sceptic. He did not seek for contradictions in things for the +sake of the contradictions, but in order to support the positive +thesis of Parmenides, that only being is, and that becoming is not at +all. Zeno, therefore, is to be regarded as a constructive, and not +merely as a destructive, thinker. But it is obvious that by +emphasizing only the negative element in his philosophy, it is +possible to use his antinomies as powerful weapons in the cause of +scepticism and nihilism. And it was in this way that Gorgias made use +of the dialectic of Zeno. Since all existence is self-contradictory, +it follows that nothing exists. He also made use of the famous +argument of Parmenides regarding the origin of being. If anything is, +said Gorgias, it must have had a beginning. Its being must have arisen +either from being, or from not-being. If it arose from being, there is +no beginning. If it arose from not-being, this is impossible, since +something cannot arise out of nothing. Therefore nothing exists. + +The second proposition of Gorgias, that if anything exists it cannot +be known, is part and parcel of the whole Sophistic tendency of +thought, which identifies knowledge {118} with sense-perception, and +ignores the rational element. Since sense-impressions differ in +different people, and even in the same person, the object as it is in +itself cannot be known. The third proposition follows from the same +identification of knowledge with sensation, since sensation is what +cannot be communicated. + +The later Sophists went much further than Protagoras and Gorgias. It +was their work to apply the teaching of Protagoras to the spheres of +politics and morals. If there is no objective truth, and if what seems +true to each individual is for him the truth, so also, there can be no +objective moral code, and what seems right to each man is right for +him. If we are to have anything worth calling morality, it is clear +that it must be a law for all, and not merely a law for some. It must +be valid for, and binding upon, all men. It must, therefore, be +founded upon that which is universal in man, that is to say, his +reason. To found it upon sense-impressions and feelings is to found it +upon shifting quicksands. My feelings and sensations are binding upon +no man but myself, and therefore a universally valid law cannot be +founded upon them. Yet the Sophists identified morality with the +feelings of the individual. Whatever I think right is right for me. +Whatever you think right is right for you. Whatever each man, in his +irrational self-will, chooses to do, that is, for him, legitimate. +These conclusions were drawn by Polus, Thrasymachus, and Critias. + +Now if there is, in this way, no such thing as objective right, it +follows that the laws of the State can be founded upon nothing except +force, custom, and convention. We often speak of just laws, and good +laws. But to speak in that way involves the existence of an objective +{119} standard of goodness and justice, with which we can compare the +law, and see whether it agrees with that standard or not. To the +Sophists, who denied any such standard, it was mere nonsense to speak +of just and good laws. No law is in itself good or just, because there +is no such thing as goodness or justice. Or if they used such a word +as justice, they defined it as meaning the right of the stronger; or +the right of the majority. Polus and Thrasymachus, consequently, drew +the conclusion that the laws of the State were inventions of the weak, +who were cunning enough, by means of this stratagem, to control the +strong, and rob them of the natural fruits of their strength. The law +of force is the only law which nature recognizes. If a man, therefore, +is powerful enough to defy the law with impunity, he has a perfect +right to do so. The Sophists were thus the first, but not the last, to +preach the doctrine that might is right. And, in similar vein, Critias +explained popular belief in the gods as the invention of some crafty +statesman for controlling the mob through fear. + +Now it is obvious that the whole tendency of this sophistical teaching +is destructive and anti-social. It is destructive of religion, of +morality, of the foundations of the State, and of all established +institutions. And we can now see that the doctrines of the Sophists +were, in fact, simply the crystallization into abstract thought of the +practical tendencies of the age. The people in practice, the Sophists +in theory, decried and trod under foot the restrictions of law, +authority, and custom, leaving nothing but the deification of the +individual in his crude self-will and egotism. It was in fact an age +of "aufklärung," which means enlightenment or {120} illumination. Such +periods of illumination, it seems, recur periodically in the history +of thought, and in the history of civilization. This is the first, but +not the last, such period with which the history of philosophy deals. +This is the Greek illumination. Such periods present certain +characteristic features. They follow, as a rule, upon an era of +constructive thought. In the present instance the Greek illumination +followed closely upon the heels of the great development of science +and philosophy from Thales to Anaxagoras. In such a constructive +period the great thinkers bring to birth new principles, which, in the +course of time, filter down to the masses of the people and cause +popular, if shallow, science, and a wide-spread culture. Popular +education becomes a feature of the time. The new ideas, fermenting +among the people, break up old prejudices and established ideas, and +thus thought, at first constructive, becomes, among the masses, +destructive in character. Hence the popular thought, in a period of +enlightenment, issues in denial, scepticism, and disbelief. It is +merely negative in its activities and results. Authority, tradition, +and custom are wholly or partially destroyed. And since authority, +tradition, and custom are the cement of the social structure, there +results a general dissolution of that structure into its component +individuals. All emphasis is now laid on the individual. Thought +becomes egocentric. Individualism is the dominant note. Extreme +subjectivity is the principle of the age. All these features make +their appearance in the Greek aufklärung. The Sophistical doctrine +that the truth is what I think, the good what I choose to do, is the +extreme application of the subjective and egocentric principles. + +{121} + +The early eighteenth century in England and France was likewise a +period of enlightenment, and the era from which we are now, perhaps, +just emerging, bears many of the characteristics of aufklärung. It is +sceptical and destructive. All established institutions, marriage, the +family, the state, the law, come in for much destructive criticism. It +followed immediately upon the close of a great period of constructive +thought, the scientific development of the nineteenth century. And +lastly, the age has produced its own Protagorean philosophy, which it +calls pragmatism. If pragmatism is not egocentric, it is at least +anthropocentric. Truth is no longer thought of as an objective +reality, to which mankind must conform. On the contrary, the truth +must conform itself to mankind. Whatever it is useful to believe, +whatever belief "works" in practice, is declared to be true. But since +what "works" in one age and country does not "work" in another, since +what it is useful to believe to-day will be useless to-morrow, it +follows that there is no objective truth independent of mankind at +all. Truth is not now defined as dependent on the sensations of man, +as it was with Protagoras, but as dependent on the volition of man. In +either case it is not the universal in man, his reason, which is made +the basis of truth and morals, but the subjective, individual, +particular element in him. + +We must not forget the many merits of the Sophists. Individually, they +were often estimable men. Nothing is known against the character of +Protagoras, and Prodicus was proverbial for his wisdom and the genuine +probity and uprightness of his principles. Moreover the Sophists +contributed much to the advance of learning. {122} They were the first +to direct attention to the study of words, sentences, style, prosody, +and rhythm. They were the founders of the science of rhetoric. They +spread education and culture far and wide in Greece, they gave a great +impulse to the study of ethical ideas, which made possible the +teaching of Socrates, and they stirred up a ferment of ideas without +which the great period of Plato and Aristotle could never have seen +the light. But, from the philosophical point of view, their merit is +for the first time to have brought into general recognition _the right +of the subject_. For there is, after all, much reason in these attacks +made by the Sophists upon authority, upon established things, upon +tradition, custom and dogma. Man, as a rational being, ought not to be +tyrannized over by authority, dogma, and tradition. He cannot be +subjected, thus violently, to the imposition of beliefs from an +external source. No man has the right to say to me, "you _shall_ think +this," or "you _shall_ think that." I, as a rational being, have the +right to use my reason, and judge for myself. If a man would convince +me, he must not appeal to force, but to reason. In doing so, he is not +imposing his opinions externally upon me; he is educing his opinions +from the internal sources of my own thought; he is showing me that his +opinions are in reality my own opinions, if I only knew it. But the +mistake of the Sophists was that, in thus recognizing the right of the +subject, they wholly ignored and forgot _the right of the object_. For +the truth has objective existence, and is what it is, whether I think +it or not. Their mistake was that though they rightly saw that for +truth and morality to be valid for me, they must be assented to by, +and developed out of, {123} me myself, not imposed from the outside, +yet they laid the emphasis on my merely accidental and particular +characteristics, my impulses, feelings, and sensations, and made these +the source of truth and morality, instead of emphasizing as the source +of truth and right the universal part of me, my reason. "Man is the +measure of all things"; certainly, but man as a rational being, not +man as a bundle of particular sensations, subjective impressions, +impulses, irrational prejudices, self-will, mere eccentricities, +oddities, foibles, and fancies. + +Good examples of the right and wrong principles of the Sophists are to +be found in modern Protestantism and modern democracy. Protestantism, +it is often said, is founded upon the right of private judgment, and +this is simply the right of the subject, the right of the individual +to exercise his own reason. But if this is interpreted to mean that +each individual is entitled to set up his mere whims and fancies as +the law in religious matters, then we have the bad sort of +Protestantism. Again, democracy is simply political protestantism, and +democratic ideas are the direct offspring of the protestant +Reformation. The democratic principle is that no rational being can be +asked to obey a law to which his own reason has not assented. But the +law must be founded upon reason, upon the universal in man. I, as an +individual, as a mere ego, have no rights whatever. It is only as a +rational being, as a potentially universal being, as a member of the +commonwealth of reason, that I have any rights, that I can claim to +legislate for myself and others. But if each individual's capricious +self-will, his mere whims and fancies, are erected into a law, then +democracy turns into anarchism and bolshevism. + +{124} + +It is a great mistake to suppose that the doctrines of the Sophists +are merely antiquated ideas, dead and fossilized thoughts, of interest +only to historians, but of no importance to us. On the contrary, +modern popular thought positively reeks with the ideas and tendencies +of the Sophists. It is often said that a man ought to have strong +convictions, and some people even go so far as to say that it does not +much matter what a man believes, so long as what he believes he +believes strongly and firmly. Now certainly it is quite true that a +man with strong convictions is more interesting than a man without any +opinions. The former is at least a force in the world, while the +latter is colourless and ineffectual. But to put exclusive emphasis on +the mere fact of having convictions is wrong. After all, the final +test of worth must be whether the man's convictions are true or false. +There must be an objective standard of truth, and to forget this, to +talk of the mere fact of having strong opinions as in itself a merit, +is to fall into the error of the Sophists. + +Another common saying is that everyone has a right to his own +opinions. This is quite true, and it merely expresses the right of the +subject to use his own reason. But it is sometimes interpreted in a +different way. If a man holds a totally irrational opinion, and if +every weapon is beaten out of his hands, if he is driven from every +position he takes up--so that there is nothing left for him to do, +except to admit that he is wrong, such a man will sometimes take +refuge in the saying, that, after all, argue as you may, he has a +right to his own opinion. But we cannot allow the claim. No man has a +right to wrong opinions. There cannot be any right {125} in wrong +opinions. You have no right to an opinion unless it is founded upon +that which is universal in man, his reason. You cannot claim this +right on behalf of your subjective impressions, and irrational whims. +To do so is to make the mistake of the Sophists. + +The tendencies of the more shallow type of modern rationalism exhibit +a similar Sophistical thought. It is pointed out that moral ideas vary +very much in different countries and ages, that in Japan, for example, +prostitution is condoned, and that in ancient Egypt incest was not +condemned. Now it is important to know these facts. They should serve +as a warning to us against dogmatic narrow-mindedness in moral +matters. But some people draw from these facts the conclusion that +there is no universally valid and objectively real moral law. The +conclusion does not follow from the premises, and the conclusion is +false. People's opinions differ, not only on moral questions, but upon +every subject under the sun. Because men, a few hundred years ago, +believed that the earth was flat, whereas now we believe it is round, +it does not follow that it has in reality no shape at all, that there +is no objective truth in the matter. And because men's opinions +differ, in different ages and countries, as to what the true moral law +is, it does not follow that there is no objective moral law. + +We will take as our last example the current talk about the importance +of developing one's personality. A man, it is said, should "be +himself," and the expression of his own individuality must be his +leading idea. Now certainly it is good to be oneself in the sense that +it is hypocritical to pretend to be what one is not. Moreover, it is +no doubt true that each man has certain special {126} gifts, which he +ought to develop, so that all, in their diverse ways, may contribute +as much as possible to the spiritual and material wealth of the world. +But this ideal of individuality often leads to false developments, as +we see in the spheres of art and of education. Such a man as Oscar +Wilde, whose personality is essentially evil, defends his artistic +principles on the ground that he must needs express his personality, +that art is nothing but such personal expression, and that it is +subject to no standard save the individuality of the artist. Some +writers on education, among them Mr. Bernard Shaw, who has many points +in common with the Sophists, tell us that to attempt to mould the +character of a child by discipline, is to sin against its personality, +and that the child should be allowed to develop its individuality +unchecked in its own way. But against this we have to protest that to +make the cultivation of individuality an end in itself, and to put +exclusive emphasis on this, is wrong. The cultivation of an +individuality is not in itself a good thing; it is not a good thing if +the individuality be a worthless one. If a child exhibits savage or +selfish tendencies, it must be subjected to discipline, and it is +ridiculous to make a fetish of its personality to such an extent as to +allow it to develop as it likes. In a similar way, the ideal of +individuality is often interpreted to mean that the cultivation of the +mere eccentricities and oddities of the individual is something good. +But the personal peculiarities of a man are just what is worthless +about him. That alone which entitles him to the sacred rights of a +"person" is his rational and universal nature. + + + +{127} + +CHAPTER X + +SOCRATES + +Amid the destruction of all ideals of truth and morality, which was +brought about by the Sophists, there appeared in Athens the figure of +Socrates, who was destined to restore order out of chaos, and to +introduce sanity into the disordered intellectual life of the time. +Socrates was born about 470 B.C. in Athens. His father was a sculptor, +his mother a midwife. Very little is known of his early years and +education, except that he took up his father's occupation as a +sculptor. In later years some statues used to be shown at the +Acropolis in Athens, which were said to be the work of Socrates. But +comparatively early in life he deserted his profession in order to +devote himself to what he considered his mission in life, philosophy. +He spent his entire life in Athens, never departing from it, save for +short periods on three occasions, when he served in military +expeditions in the Athenian army. For from twenty to thirty years he +laboured at his philosophical mission in Athens, until, in his +seventieth year, he was charged with denying the national gods, +introducing new gods of his own, and corrupting the Athenian youth. On +these charges he was condemned to death and executed. + +{128} + +The personal appearance of Socrates was grotesque. He was short, +thick-set, and ugly. As he grew older he became bald; his nose was +broad, flat, and turned up; he walked with a peculiar gait, and had a +trick of rolling his eyes. His clothes were old and poor. He cared +little or nothing for external appearances. + +Socrates believed that he was guided in all his actions by a +supernatural voice, which he called his "daemon." This voice, he +thought, gave him premonitions of the good or evil consequences of his +proposed actions, and nothing would induce him to disobey its +injunctions. Socrates constructed no philosophy, that is to say, no +system of philosophy. He was the author of philosophical tendencies, +and of a philosophic method. He never committed his opinions to +writing. His method of philosophizing was purely conversational. It +was his habit to go down every day to the market place in Athens, or +to any other spot where people gathered, and there to engage in +conversation with anyone who was ready to talk to him about the deep +problems of life and death. Rich or poor, young or old, friend or +stranger, whoever came, and would attend, could listen freely to the +talk of Socrates. He took no fees, as the Sophists did, and remained +always a poor man. He did not, like the Sophists, deliver long +speeches, tirades, and monologues. He never monopolised the +conversation, and frequently it was the other party who did most of +the talking, Socrates only interposing questions and comments, and yet +remaining always master of the conversation, and directing it into +fruitful channels. The conversation proceeded chiefly by the method of +question and answer, Socrates by acute questions educing, bringing to +birth, {129} the thoughts of his partner, correcting, refuting, or +developing them. + +In carrying on this daily work, Socrates undoubtedly regarded himself +as engaged upon a mission in some way supernaturally imposed upon him +by God. Of the origin of this mission we have an account in the +"Apology" of Plato, who puts into the mouth of Socrates the following +words:--"Chairephon .... made a pilgrimage to Delphi and had the +audacity to ask this question from the oracle .... He actually asked +if there was any man wiser than I. And the priestess answered, No .... +When I heard the answer, I asked myself: What can the god mean? what +can he be hinting? For certainly I have never thought myself wise in +anything, great or small. What can he mean then, when he asserts that +I am the wisest of men? He cannot lie, of course: that would be +impossible for him. And for a long while I was at a loss to think what +he could mean. At last, after much thought, I started on some such +course as this. I betook myself to one of the men who seemed wise, +thinking that there, if anywhere, I should refute the utterance, and +could say to the oracle: 'This man is wiser than I, and you said I was +the wisest.' Now when I looked into the man--there is no need to give +his name--it was one of our citizens, men of Athens, with whom I had +an experience of this kind--when we talked together I thought, 'This +man seems wise to many men, and above all to himself, but he is not +so'; and then I tried to show that he thought he was wise, but he was +not. Then he got angry with me and so did many who heard us, but I +went away and thought to myself, 'Well, at any rate I am wiser than +this man: probably neither of {130} us knows anything of beauty or of +good, but he thinks he knows something when he knows nothing, and I, +if I know nothing, at least never suppose that I do. So it looks as +though I really were a little wiser than he, just in so far as I do +not imagine myself to know things about which I know nothing at all.' +After that I went to another man who seemed to be wiser still, and I +had exactly the same experience, and then he got angry with me too, +and so did many more. Thus I went round them all, one after the other, +aware of what was happening and sorry for it, and afraid that they +were getting to hate me." + +In this passage we can see, too, the supposed origin of another +peculiar Socratic feature, the Socratic "irony." In any discussion, +Socrates would, as a rule, profess himself to be totally ignorant of +the matter in hand, and only anxious to learn the wisdom possessed by +his interlocutor. This professed ignorance was not affectation. He was +genuinely impressed with the notion that not only he, but all other +men, live for the most part in ignorance of the things that are the +most important to be known, the nature of goodness, beauty, and truth. +He believed that the self-styled knowledge of the wise was, for the +most part, nothing but pretentious ignorance. Nevertheless, he used +this profession of ignorance as a weapon of offence, and it became in +his hands a powerful rhetorical instrument, which he used with +specially telling effect against those who, puffed up with their own +importance and wisdom, pretended to knowledge which they did not +possess. Such hollow pretence of knowledge met with uncompromising +exposure at the hands of Socrates. With such persons he would open the +{131} conversation with a confession of his own ignorance and an +expression of his desire to learn the wisdom, which, he knew, they +possessed. In their eagerness to show off their knowledge, they would, +perhaps, rush into the breach with some very positive assertion. +Socrates would express himself as delighted with this, but would add +that there were one or two things about it which he did not fully +understand, and he would proceed, with a few dexterous questions, to +expose the hollowness, the shallowness, or the ignorance of the +answers. + +It was chiefly the young men of Athens who gathered round Socrates, +who was for them a centre of intellectual activity and a fountain of +inspiration. It was this fact which afterwards formed the basis of the +charge that he "corrupted the youth." He was a man of the noblest +character and of the simplest life. Accepting no fees, he acquired no +wealth. Poor, caring nothing for worldly goods, wholly independent of +the ordinary needs and desires of men, he devoted himself exclusively +to the acquisition of that which, in his eyes, alone had value, wisdom +and virtue. He was endowed with the utmost powers of physical +endurance and moral strength. When he served with the army in the +Peloponnesian war, he astonished his fellow-soldiers by his bravery, +and his cheerful endurance of every hardship. On two occasions, at +considerable risk to himself, he saved the lives of his companions. At +the battle of Delium it is said that Socrates was the only man who +kept his head in the rout of the Athenians. He was an excellent +companion, and though simple in his habits, and independent of all +material pleasures, never made a fetish of this independence, nor +allowed it to degenerate into a harsh asceticism, {132} Thus, he +needed no wine, but yet, if occasion called for it, he not only drank, +but could drink more than any other man without turning a hair. In the +"Banquet" of Plato, Socrates is depicted sitting all night long +drinking and talking philosophy with his friends. One by one the +guests succumbed, leaving only Socrates and two others, and at last, +as the dawn broke, these two also fell asleep. But Socrates got up, +washed himself, and went down to the market place to begin his daily +work. + +In his seventieth year he was tried on three charges: (1) for denying +the national gods, (2) for setting up new gods of his own, (3) for +corrupting the youth. All these charges were entirely baseless. The +first might well have been brought against almost any of the earlier +Greek thinkers with some justice. Most of them disbelieved in the +national religion; many of them openly denied the existence of the +gods. Socrates, almost alone, had refrained from any such attitude. On +the contrary, he always enjoined veneration towards the gods, and +urged his hearers, in whatever city they might be, to honour the gods +according to the custom of that city. According to Xenophon, however, +he distinguished between the many gods and the one creator of the +universe, who controls, guides, and guards over the lives of men. The +second charge appears to have been based upon the claim of Socrates to +be guided by a supernatural inner voice, but whatever we may think of +this claim, it can hardly constitute good ground for a charge of +introducing new gods. The third charge, that of corrupting the youth, +was equally baseless, though the fact that Alcibiades, who had been a +favourite pupil of Socrates, afterwards turned traitor to Athens, and +{133} led, moreover, a dissolute and unprincipled life, no doubt +prejudiced the philosopher in the eyes of the Athenians. But Socrates +was not responsible for the misdeeds of Alcibiades, and his general +influence upon the Athenian youth was the very opposite of corrupting. + + +What then were the real reasons for these accusations? In the first +place, there is no doubt that Socrates had made many personal enemies. +In his daily disputations he had not spared even the most powerful men +in Athens, but had ruthlessly laid bare the ignorance of those who +pretended to be wise. There is, however, no reason to believe that the +three men who actually laid the charges, Melitus, Lycon, and Anytus, +did so out of any personal animosity. But they were men of straw, put +forward by more powerful persons who remained behind the scenes. In +the second place, Socrates had rendered himself obnoxious to the +Athenian democracy. He was no aristocrat in feeling, nor was he a +supporter of the vested interests and privileges of the few. But he +could not accommodate himself to the mob-rule which then went by the +name of democracy. The government of the State, he believed, should be +in the hands of the wise, the just, and the good, those competent and +trained to govern, and these are necessarily the few. He himself had +taken no part in the political life of the time, preferring to guide +by his influence and advice the young men on whom some day the duties +of the State would devolve. On two occasions only did he take an +active part in politics, and on both occasions his conduct gave great +offence. Both these incidents are recounted in a passage in Plato's +"Apology," which I will quote. The {134} first incident refers to the +aftermath of the battle of Arginusae. The Athenian fleet had gained a +victory here, but lost twenty-five ships of war, and the whole of the +crews of these ships were drowned. This was attributed to the +carelessness of the generals, and there was great indignation in +Athens, upon their return whither the generals were put upon their +trial. According to the law of Athens each accused had to be given a +separate trial, but in their eagerness to have the generals condemned, +the judges in this instance decided to try them all in a body. "You +know, men of Athens," says Socrates in the "Apology," "that I have +never held any other office in the State, but I did serve on the +Council. And it happened that my tribe, Antiochis, had the Presidency +at the time you decided to try the ten generals who had not taken up +the dead after the fight at sea. You decided to try them in one body, +contrary to law, as you all felt afterwards. On that occasion I was +the only one of the Presidents who opposed you, and told you not to +break the law; and I gave my vote against you; and when the orators +were ready to impeach and arrest me, and you encouraged them and +hooted me, I thought then that I ought to take all the risks on the +side of law and justice, rather than side with you, when your +decisions were unjust, through fear of imprisonment or death. That was +while the city was still under the democracy. When the oligarchy came +into power, the Thirty, in their turn, summoned me with four others to +the Rotunda, and commanded us to fetch Leon of Salamis from that +island, in order to put him to death: the sort of commands they often +gave to many others, anxious as they were to incriminate all they +could. And on that occasion {135} I showed not by words only, that for +death, to put it bluntly, I did not care one straw--but I did care, +and to the full, about doing what was wicked and unjust. I was not +terrified then into doing wrong by that government in all its power; +when we left the Rotunda, the other four went off to Salamis and +brought Leon back, but I went home. And probably I should have been +put to death for it, if the government had not been overthrown soon +afterwards." + +But there was a third, and greater reason, for the condemnation of +Socrates. These charges were brought against him because the popular +mind confused him with the Sophists. This was entirely absurd, because +Socrates in no respect resembled the Sophists, either in the manner of +his life or in the tendency of his thought, which was wholly +anti-sophistical. But that such a confusion did exist in the popular +mind is clearly proved by "The Clouds" of Aristophanes. Aristophanes +was a reactionary in thought and politics, and, hating the Sophists as +the representatives of modernism, he lampooned them in his comedy, +"The Clouds." Socrates appears in the play as the central character, +and the chief of the Sophists. This was entirely unjust, but it +affords evidence of the fact that Socrates was commonly mistaken for a +Sophist by the Athenians. Aristophanes would not have ventured to +introduce such a delusion into his play, had his audience not shared +in it. Now at this time a wave of reaction was passing over Athens, +and there was great indignation against the Sophists, who were rightly +supposed to be overturning all ideals of truth and goodness. Socrates +fell a victim to the anger of the populace against the Sophists. + +{136} + +At the trial Socrates conducted himself with dignity and confidence. +It was usual in those days for an accused person to weep and lament, +to flatter the judges, to seek indulgence by grovelling and fawning, +to appeal for pity by parading his wife and children in the court. +Socrates refused to do any of these things, considering them unmanly. +His "defence" was, indeed, not so much a defence of himself as an +arraignment of his judges, the people of Athens, for their corruption +and vice. This attitude of Socrates certainly brought about his +condemnation. There is every reason to believe that if he had adopted +a grovelling, even a conciliatory tone, he would have been acquitted. +As it was, he was found guilty by a bare majority. The law enacted +that, when the charge was proved, those who had brought the accusation +should first propose the penalty which they thought fitting; then the +accused himself should propose an alternative penalty. It was for the +judges to decide which of the two should be inflicted. The accusers of +Socrates proposed the death-penalty. Here again Socrates might have +escaped by proposing at once some petty punishment. This would have +satisfied the people, who were only anxious to score off the +troublesome philosopher and pedant. But Socrates proudly affirmed +that, as he was guilty of no crime, he deserved no punishment. To +propose a penalty would be to admit his guilt. Far from being a guilty +person, he considered himself in the light of a public benefactor, and +as such, if he were to get his deserts, he proposed that he should be +publicly honoured by being given a seat at the President's table. +Nevertheless, as the law forced him to propose a penalty, he would, +without prejudice to his {137} plea of innocence, suggest a fine of +thirty minas. This conduct so exasperated the judges that he was now +condemned to death by a large majority, about eighty of those who had +previously voted for his acquittal now voting for his execution. + +Thirty days elapsed before he was executed, and these days were spent +in prison. His friends, who had free access to him, urged him to +escape. These things were possible in Athens. Anaxagoras had +apparently escaped with the help of Pericles. A little silver in the +hands of the jailguards would probably have settled the matter. +Socrates could fly to Thessaly, where the law could not reach him, as +Anaxagoras had fled to Ionia. But Socrates steadily refused, saying +that to flee from death was cowardly, and that one ought to obey the +laws. The law had decreed his death, and he must obey. After thirty +days, therefore, the poison cup was brought to him, and he drank it +without flinching. Here is Plato's account of the death of Socrates, +which I quote from the "Phaedo." In detail it cannot be considered +historical, but we may well believe that the main incidents as well as +the picture it gives us of the bearing and demeanour of the +philosopher in his last moments, are accurate representations of the +facts. + +"He rose and went into a chamber to bathe, and Crito followed him, but +he directed us to wait for him. We waited, therefore, conversing among +ourselves about what had been said, and considering it again, and +sometimes speaking about our calamity, how severe it would be to us, +sincerely thinking that, like those who are deprived of a father, we +should pass the rest of our lives as orphans. When he had bathed and +his {138} children were brought to him, for he had two little sons and +one grown up, and the women belonging to his family were come, having +conversed with them in the presence of Crito, and given them such +injunctions as he wished, he directed the women and children to go +away, and then returned to us. And it was now near sunset; for he +spent a considerable time within. But when he came from bathing he sat +down and did not speak much afterwards: then the officer of the Eleven +came in and standing near him said, 'Socrates, I shall not have to +find that fault with you that I do with the others, that they are +angry with me, and curse me, when, by order of the archons, I bid them +drink the poison. But you, on all other occasions during the time you +have been here, I have found to be the most noble, meek and excellent +man of all that ever came into this place; and, therefore, I am now +well convinced that you will not be angry with me. Now, then, for you +know what I came to announce to you, farewell, and endeavour to bear +what is inevitable as easily as possible.' And at the same time, +bursting into tears, he turned away and withdrew. And Socrates, +looking after him, said, 'And thou too, farewell, we will do as you +direct.' At the same time, turning to us he said 'How courteous the +man is; during the whole time I have been here he has visited me, and +conversed with me sometimes, and proved the worthiest of men; and how +generously he weeps for me. But come, Crito, let us obey him and let +some one bring the poison, if it is ready pounded, but if not let the +man pound it.' + +"Then Crito said, 'But I think, Socrates, that the sun is still on the +mountains, and has not yet set. Besides, {139} I know that others have +drunk the poison very late, after it had been announced to them, and +have supped and drunk freely, and some even have enjoyed the objects +of their love. Do not hasten them, for there is yet time.' + +"Upon this Socrates replied, 'These men whom you mention, Crito, do +these things with good reason, for they think they shall gain by so +doing, and I too with good reason, shall not do so; for I think I +shall gain nothing by drinking a little later, except to become +ridiculous to myself, in being so fond of life, and sparing of it when +none any longer remains. Go then,' he said, 'obey, and do not resist.' + +"Crito having heard this, nodded to the boy that stood near. And the +boy having gone out, and stayed for some time, came, bringing with him +the man that was to administer the poison, who brought it ready +pounded in a cup. And Socrates, on seeing the man, said, 'Well, my +good friend, as you are skilled in these matters, what must I do?' +'Nothing else,' he replied, 'than when you have drunk it walk about, +until there is a heaviness in your legs, then lie down; thus it will +do its purpose.' And at the same time he held out the cup to Socrates. +And he having received it very cheerfully, Echecrates, neither +trembling, nor changing at all in colour or countenance, but, as he +was wont, looking steadfastly at the man, said, 'what say you of this +potion, with respect to making a libation to anyone, is it lawful or +not?' 'We only pound so much, Socrates,' he said, 'as we think +sufficient to drink.' 'I understand you,' he said, 'but it is +certainly both lawful and right to pray to the gods that my departure +hence thither may be happy; which therefore I pray, and so {140} may +it be.' And as he said this he drank it off readily and calmly. Thus +far, most of us were with difficulty able to restrain ourselves from +weeping, but when we saw him drinking, and having finished the +draught, we could do so no longer; but in spite of myself the tears +came in full torrent, so that, covering my face, I wept for myself, +for I did not weep for him, but for my own fortune, in being deprived +of such a friend. But Crito, even before me, when he could not +restrain his tears, had risen up. But Apollodorus even before this had +not ceased weeping, and then, bursting into an agony of grief, weeping +and lamenting, he pierced the heart of everyone present, except +Socrates himself. But he said. 'What are you doing, my admirable +friends? I indeed, for this reason chiefly, sent away the women, that +they might not commit any folly of this kind. For I have heard that it +is right to die with good omens. Be quiet, therefore, and bear up.' + +"When we heard this we were ashamed, and restrained our tears. But he, +having walked about, when he said that his legs were growing heavy, +lay down on his back; for the man so directed him. And at the same +time he who gave him the poison, taking hold of him, after a short +interval examined his feet and legs; and then having pressed his foot +hard, he asked if he felt it; he said that he did not. And after this +he pressed his thighs; and thus going higher he showed us that he was +growing cold and stiff. Then Socrates touched himself, and said that +when the poison reached his heart he should then depart. But now the +parts around the lower belly were almost cold; when uncovering +himself, for he had been covered over, he said; and they were his +{141} last words. 'Crito, we owe a cock to AEsculapius; pay it, +therefore, and do not neglect it.' 'It shall be done,' said Crito, +'but consider whether you have anything else to say.' + +"To this question he gave no reply; but shortly after he gave a +convulsive movement, and the man covered him, and his eyes were fixed, +and Crito, perceiving it, closed his mouth and eyes. + +"This, Echecrates, was the end of our friend, a man, as we may say, +the best of all of his time that we have known, and moreover, the most +wise and just." + +Our knowledge of the teaching of Socrates is derived chiefly from two +sources, Plato and Xenophon, for the peculiarities of each of whom +allowances must be made. Plato in his dialogues makes Socrates the +mouthpiece of his own teaching, consequently the majority of the +tenets to which Socrates is made to give expression are purely +Platonic doctrines of which the historical Socrates could never even +have dreamed. It might, therefore, seem at first sight that there is +no possibility of ascertaining from Plato's dialogues any trustworthy +account of the ideas of Socrates. But on closer inspection this does +not turn out to be correct, because the earlier dialogues of Plato +were written before he had developed his own philosophy, and when he +was, to all intents and purposes, simply a disciple of Socrates, bent +only upon giving the best expression to the Socratic doctrine. Even in +these Socratic dialogues, however, we have what is no doubt an +idealized portrait of Socrates. Plato makes no pretence of being +merely a biographer or historian. The incidents and conversation, +although they are no doubt frequently founded upon facts, are, in the +{142} main, imaginary. All we can say is that they contain the gist +and substance of the philosophy of Socrates. The other source, +Xenophon, also has his peculiarities. If Plato was an idealizing +philosopher, Xenophon was a prosaic and matter of fact man of affairs. +He was a plain, honest soldier. He had no great insight into any +philosophy, Socratic or otherwise. He was not attached to Socrates +primarily as a philosopher, but as an admirer of his character and +personality. If Plato puts the teaching of Socrates too high, Xenophon +puts it too low. But, in spite of this, Xenophon's Memorabilia +contains a mass of valuable information both about the life and the +philosophical ideas of Socrates. + +The Socratic teaching is essentially ethical in character. In this +alone did Socrates bear any resemblance to the Sophists. It was the +Sophists who had introduced into Greek philosophy the problem of man, +and of the duties of man. And to these problems Socrates also turns +his exclusive attention. He brushes aside all questions as to the +origin of the world, or the nature of the ultimate reality, of which +we have heard so much in the philosophies of the earlier thinkers. +Socrates openly deprecated such speculations and considered all such +knowledge comparatively worthless as against ethical knowledge, the +knowledge of man. Mathematics, physics, and astronomy, he thought, +were not valuable forms of knowledge. He said that he never went for +walks outside the city, because there is nothing to be learnt from +fields and trees. + +Nevertheless the ethical teaching of Socrates was founded upon a +theory of knowledge, which is quite simple, but extremely important. +The Sophists had founded knowledge upon perception, with the result +{143} that all objective standards of truth had been destroyed. It was +the work of Socrates to found knowledge upon reason, and thereby to +restore to truth its objectivity. Briefly, the theory of Socrates may +be summarized by saying that he taught that _all knowledge is knowledge +through concepts_. What is a concept? When we are directly conscious of +the presence of any particular thing, a man, a tree, a house, or a +star, such consciousness is called perception. When, shutting our +eyes, we frame a mental picture of such an object, such consciousness +is called an image or representation. Such mental images are, like +perceptions, always ideas of particular individual objects. But +besides these ideas of individual objects, whether through +sense-perception or imagination, we have also general ideas, that is +to say, not ideas of any particular thing, but ideas of whole classes +of things. If I say "Socrates is mortal," I am thinking of the +individual, Socrates. But if I say "Man is mortal," I am thinking, not +of any particular man, but of the class of men in general. Such an +idea is called a general idea, or a concept. All class-names, such as +man, tree, house, river, animal, horse, being, which stand, not for +one thing, but for a multitude of things, represent concepts. We form +these general ideas by including in them all the qualities which the +whole class of objects has in common, and excluding from them all the +qualities in which they differ, that is to say, the qualities which +some of the objects possess, but others do not. For example, I cannot +include the quality whiteness in my general idea of horses, because, +though some horses are white, others are not. But I can include the +quality vertebrate because all horses agree in being vertebrate. Thus +a {144} concept is formed by bringing together the ideas in which all +the members of a class of objects agree with one another, and +neglecting the ideas in which they differ. + +Now reason is the faculty of concepts. This may not, at first sight, +be obvious. Reason, it might be objected, is the faculty of arguing, +of drawing conclusions from premises. But a little consideration will +show us that, though this is so, yet all reasoning is employed upon +concepts. All reasoning is either deductive or inductive. Induction +consists in the formulation of general principles from particular +cases. A general principle is always a statement made, not about a +particular thing, but about a whole class of things, that is, about a +concept. Concepts are formed inductively by comparing numerous +examples of a class. Deductive reasoning is always the opposite +process of applying general principles to particular cases. If we +argue that Socrates must be mortal because all men are so, the +question is whether Socrates is a man, that is to say, whether the +concept, man, is properly applied to the particular object called +Socrates. Thus inductive reasoning is concerned with the formation of +concepts, deductive reasoning with the application of them. + +Socrates, in placing all knowledge in concepts, was thus making reason +the organ of knowledge. This was in direct opposition to the principle +of the Sophists, who placed all knowledge in sense-perception. Now +since reason is the universal element in man, it follows that +Socrates, in identifying knowledge with concepts, was restoring the +belief in an objective truth, valid for all men, and binding upon all +men, and was destroying the Sophistic teaching that the truth is +whatever each {145} individual chooses to think it is. We shall see +this more clearly if we reflect that a concept is the same thing as a +definition. If we wish to define any word, for example, the word man, +we must include in our definition only the qualities which all men +have in common. We cannot, for example, define man as a white-skinned +animal, because all men are not white-skinned. Similarly we cannot +include "English-speaking" in our definition, because, though some men +speak English, others do not. But we might include such a quality as +"two-legged," because "two-legged" is a quality common to all human +beings, except mere aberrations and distortions of the normal type. +Thus a definition is formed in the same way as a concept, namely, by +including the common qualities of a class of objects, and excluding +the qualities in which the members of the class differ. A definition, +in fact, is merely the expression of a concept in words. Now by the +process of fixing definitions we obtain objective standards of truth. +If, for example, we fix the definition of a triangle, then we can +compare any geometrical figure with it, and say whether it is a +triangle or not. It is no longer open to anyone to declare that +whatever he chooses to call a triangle is a triangle. Similarly, if we +fix upon a definition of the word man, we can then compare any object +with that definition, and say whether it is a man or not. Again, if we +can decide what the proper concept of virtue is, then the question +whether any particular act is virtuous can only be decided by +comparing that act with the concept, and seeing if they agree. The +Sophist can no longer say, "whatever seems to me right, is right for +me. Whatever I choose to do is virtuous for me." His act must be +judged, not by {146} his subjective impressions, but by the concept or +definition, which is thus an objective standard of truth, independent +of the individual. This, then, was the theory of knowledge propounded +by Socrates. Knowledge, he said, is not the same thing as the +sensations of the individual, which would mean that each individual +can name as the truth whatever he pleases. Knowledge means knowledge +of things as they objectively are, independently of the individual, +and such knowledge is knowledge of the concepts of things. Therefore +the philosophizing of Socrates consisted almost exclusively in trying +to frame proper concepts. He went about enquiring, "What is virtue?" +"What is prudence?" "What is temperance?"--meaning thereby "what are +the true concepts or definitions of these things?" In this way he +attempted to find a basis for believing in an objectively real truth +and an objectively real moral law. + +His method of forming concepts was by induction. He would take common +examples of actions which are universally admitted to be prudent, and +would attempt to find the quality which they all have in common, and +by virtue of which they are all classed together, and so form the +concept of prudence. Then he would bring up fresh examples, and see +whether they agreed with the concept so formed. If not, the concept +might have to be corrected in the light of the new examples. + +But the Socratic theory of knowledge was not a theory put forward for +its own sake, but for practical ends. Socrates always made theory +subservient to practice. He wanted to know what the concept of virtue +is, only in order to practise virtue in life. And this brings us to +the central point of the ethical teaching of Socrates, {147} which was +the identification of virtue with knowledge. Socrates believed that a +man cannot act rightly, unless he first knows what is right, unless, +in fact, he knows the concept of right. Moral action is thus founded +upon knowledge, and must spring from it. But not only did Socrates +think that if a man has not knowledge, he cannot do right. He also put +forward the much more doubtful assertion that if a man possesses +knowledge, he cannot do wrong. All wrong-doing arises from ignorance. +If a man only knows what is right, he must and will infallibly do what +is right. All men seek the good, but men differ as to what the good +is. "No man," said Socrates, "intentionally does wrong." He does +wrong, because he does not know the true concept of right, and being +ignorant, thinks that what he is doing is good. "If a man intentionally +does wrong," said Socrates again, "he is better than a man who does so +unintentionally." For the former has in him the essential condition of +goodness, knowledge of what goodness is, but the latter, lacking that +knowledge, is hopeless. + +Aristotle, in commenting upon this whole doctrine, observed that +Socrates had ignored or forgotten the irrational parts of the soul. +Socrates imagined that everybody's actions are governed solely by +reason, and that therefore if only they reasoned aright, they must do +right. He forgot that the majority of men's actions are governed by +passions and emotions, "the irrational parts of the soul." Aristotle's +criticism of Socrates is unanswerable. All experience shows that men +do deliberately do wrong, that, knowing well what is right, they +nevertheless do wrong. But it is easy to see why Socrates made this +mistake; he was arguing only from {148} his own case. Socrates really +does appear to have been above human weakness. He was not guided by +passions, but by reason, and it followed as the night follows the day, +that if Socrates knew what was right, he did it. He was unable to +understand how men, knowing the right, could yet do the wrong. If they +are vicious, he thought, it must be because they do not know what is +right. The criticism of Aristotle is thus justified. Yet for all that, +the theory of Socrates is not to be too quickly brushed aside. There +is more truth in it than appears at first sight. We say that a man +believes one thing and does another. Yet it is a matter of question +what a man really believes, and what is the test of his belief. Men go +to church every Sunday, and there repeat formulas and prayers, of +which the main idea is that all earthly riches are worthless in +comparison with spiritual treasures. Such men, if asked, might tell us +that they believe this to be true. They believe that they believe it. +And yet in actual life, perhaps, they seek only for earthly riches, +and behave as if they thought these the supreme good. What do such men +really believe? Do they believe as they speak, or as they act? Is it +not at least arguable that they are really pursuing what they believe +to be good, and that, if they were genuinely convinced of the +superiority of spiritual treasures, they would seek them, and not +material riches? This at least is what Socrates thought. All men seek +the good, but the many do not know what the good is. There is +certainly truth in this in many cases, though in others there can be +no doubt that men do deliberately what they know to be evil. + +There are two other characteristic Socratic propositions {149} which +flow from the same general idea, that virtue is identical with +knowledge. The first is, that virtue can be taught. We do not +ordinarily think that virtue can be taught like arithmetic. We think +that virtue depends upon a number of factors, prominent among which +are the inborn disposition of a man, heredity, environment, modified +to some extent by education, practice, and habit. The consequence is +that a man's character does not change very much as he grows older. By +constant practice, by continual self-control, a man may, to some +extent, make himself better, but on the whole, what he is he remains. +The leopard, we say, does not change his spots. But as, for Socrates, +the sole condition of virtue is knowledge, and as knowledge is just +what can be imparted by teaching, it followed that virtue must be +teachable. The only difficulty is to find the teacher, to find some +one who knows the concept of virtue. What the concept of virtue +is--that is, thought Socrates, the precious piece of knowledge, which +no philosopher has ever discovered, and which, if it were only +discovered, could at once be imparted by teaching, whereupon men would +at once become virtuous. + +The other Socraticism is that "virtue is one." We talk of many +virtues, temperance, prudence, foresight, benevolence, kindness, etc. +Socrates believed that all these particular virtues flowed from the +one source, knowledge. Therefore knowledge itself, that is to say, +wisdom, is the sole virtue, and this includes all the others. + +This completes the exposition of the positive teaching of Socrates. It +only remains for us to consider what position Socrates holds in the +history of thought. There are two sides of the Socratic teaching. In +the first {150} place, there is the doctrine of knowledge, that all +knowledge is through concepts. This is the scientific side of the +philosophy of Socrates. Secondly, there is his ethical teaching. Now +the essential and important side of Socrates is undoubtedly the +scientific theory of concepts. It is this which gives him his position +in the history of philosophy. His ethical ideas, suggestive as they +were, were yet all tainted with the fallacy that men are governed only +by reason. Hence they have exercised no great influence on the history +of thought. But the theory of concepts worked a revolution in +philosophy. Upon a development of it is founded the whole of Plato's +philosophy, and, through Plato, the philosophy of Aristotle, and, +indeed, all subsequent idealism. The immediate effect of this theory, +however, was the destruction of the teaching of the Sophists. The +Sophists taught the doctrine that truth is sense-perception, and as +the perceptions of different individuals differ in regard to the same +object, it followed that truth became a matter of taste with the +individual. This undermined all belief in truth as an objective +reality, and, by similar reasoning, faith in the objectivity of the +moral law was also destroyed. The essential position of Socrates is +that of a restorer of faith. His greatness lay in the fact that he saw +that the only way to combat the disastrous results of the Sophistic +teaching was to refute the fundamental assumption from which all that +teaching flowed, the assumption, namely, that knowledge is perception. +Against this, therefore, Socrates opposed the doctrine that knowledge +is through concepts. To base knowledge upon concepts is to base it +upon the universality of reason, and therefore to restore it from the +{151} position of a subjective seeming to that of an objective +reality. + +But though Socrates is thus a restorer of faith, we must not imagine +that his thought is therefore a mere retrogression to the intellectual +condition of pre-Sophistic times. It was, on the contrary, an advance +beyond the Sophists. We have here, in fact, an example of what is the +normal development of all thought, whether in the individual or the +race. The movement of thought exhibits three stages. The first stage +is positive belief, not founded upon reason; it is merely conventional +belief. At the second stage thought becomes destructive and sceptical. +It denies what was affirmed in the previous stage. The third stage is +the restoration of positive belief now founded upon the concept, upon +reason, and not merely upon custom. Before the time of the Sophists, +men took it for granted that truth and goodness are objective +realities; nobody specially affirmed it, because nobody denied it. It +seemed obvious. It was, thus, not believed on rational grounds, but +through custom and habit. This, the first stage of thought, we may +call the era of simple faith. When the Sophists came upon the scene, +they brought reason and thought to bear upon what had hitherto been +accepted as a matter of course, namely law, custom, and authority. The +first encroachment of reason upon simple faith is always destructive, +and hence the Sophists undermined all ideals of goodness and truth. +Socrates is the restorer of these ideals, but with him they are no +longer the ideals of simple faith; they are the ideals of reason. They +are based upon reason. Socrates substituted comprehending belief for +unintelligent assent. We may contrast him, in this {152} respect, with +Aristophanes. Aristophanes, the conservative, the believer in the +"good old times," saw, as clearly as Socrates, the disastrous effects +worked by the Sophists upon public morals. But the remedy he proposed +was a violent return to the "good old times." Since it was thought +which worked these ill effects, thought must be suppressed. We must go +back to simple faith. But simple faith, once destroyed by thought, +never returns either to the individual, or to the race. This can no +more happen than a man can again become a child. There is only one +remedy for the ills of thought, and that is, more thought. If thought, +in its first inroads, leads, as it always does, to scepticism and +denial, the only course is, not to suppress thought, but to found +faith upon it. This was the method of Socrates, and it is the method, +too, of all great spirits. They are not frightened of shadows. They +have faith in reason. If reason leads them into the darkness, they do +not scuttle back in fright. They advance till the light comes again. +They are false teachers who counsel us to give no heed to the +promptings of reason, if reason brings doubt into our beliefs. Thought +cannot be thus suppressed. Reason has rights upon us as rational +beings. We cannot go back. We must go on, and make our beliefs +rational. We must found them upon the concept, as Socrates did. +Socrates did not deny the principle of the Sophists that all +institutions, all ideals, all existing and established things must +justify themselves before the tribunal of reason. He accepted this +without question. He took up the challenge of thought, and won the +battle of reason in his day. + +The Sophists brought to light the principle of subjectivity, the +principle that the truth must be _my_ truth, {153} and the right _my_ +right. They must be the products of my own thinking, not standards +forcibly imposed upon me from without. But the mistake of the Sophists +was to imagine that the truth must be mine, merely in my capacity as a +percipient creature of sense, which means that I have a private truth +of my own. Socrates corrected this by admitting that the truth must be +my truth, but mine in my capacity as a rational being, which means, +since reason is the universal, that it is not my private truth, but +universal truth which is shared by and valid for all rational beings. +Truth is thus established as being not mere subjective appearance, but +objective reality, independent of the sensations, whims, and self-will +of the individual. The whole period of Socrates and the Sophists is +full of instruction. Its essential lesson is that to deny the +supremacy of reason, to set up any other process of consciousness +above reason, must inevitably end in scepticism and the denial of the +objectivity of truth and morality. Many theosophists and others, at +the present day, teach the doctrine of what they call "intuition." The +supreme kind of religious knowledge, they think, is to be reached by +intuition, which is conceived as something higher than reason. But +this is simply to make the mistake of Protagoras over again. It is +true that this so-called intuition is not merely sense-perception, as +was the case with Protagoras. It is, however, a form of immediate +spiritual perception. It is immediate apprehension of the object as +being present to me, as having _thereness_. It is therefore of the +nature of perception. It is spiritual and super-sensuous, as opposed +to material and sensuous, perception. But it makes no difference at +all whether perception is sensuous {154} or super-sensuous. To place +the truth in any sort of perception is, in principle, to do as +Protagoras did, to yield oneself up a helpless prey to the subjective +impressions of the individual. I intuit one thing; another man intuits +the opposite. What I intuit must be true for me, what he intuits true +for him. For we have denied reason, we have placed it below intuition, +and have thereby discarded that which alone can subject the varying +impressions of each individual to the rule of a universal and +objective standard. The logical conclusion is that, since each man's +intuition is true for him, there is no such thing as an objective +truth. Nor can there be such a thing, in these circumstances, as an +objective goodness. Thus the theory must end in total scepticism and +darkness. The fact that theosophists do not, as a matter of fact, draw +these sceptical conclusions, simply means that they are not as +clear-headed and logical as Protagoras was. + +{155} + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SEMI-SOCRATICS + +Upon the death of Socrates there ensued a phenomenon which is not +infrequent in the history of thought. A great and many-sided +personality combines in himself many conflicting tendencies and ideas. +Let us take an example, not, however, from the sphere of intellect, +but from the sphere of practical life. We often say that it is +difficult to reconcile mercy and justice. Among the many small +personalities, one man follows only the ideal of mercy, and as his +mercy has not in it the stern stuff of justice, it degenerates into +mawkishness and sentimental humanitarianism. Another man follows only +the ideal of justice, forgetting mercy, and he becomes harsh and +unsympathetic. It takes a greater man, a larger personality, +harmoniously to combine the two. And as it is in the sphere of +practical life, so it is in the arena of thought and philosophy. A +great thinker is not he who seizes upon a single aspect of the truth, +and pushes that to its extreme limit, but the man who combines, in one +many-sided system, all the varying and conflicting sides of truth. By +emphasizing one thought, by being obsessed by a single idea and +pushing it to its logical conclusion, regardless of the other aspects +of the truth, one may indeed achieve a considerable local and {156} +temporary reputation; because such a procedure often leads to striking +paradoxes, to strange and seemingly uncommon conclusions. The +reputations of such men as Nietzsche, Bernard Shaw, Oscar Wilde, are +made chiefly in this way. But upon the death of a great all-embracing +personality, just because his thought is a combination of so many +divergent truths, we often find that it splits up into its component +parts, each of which gives rise to a one-sided school of thought. The +disciples, being smaller men, are not able to grasp the great man's +thought in its wholeness and many-sidedness. Each disciple seizes upon +that portion of his master's teaching which has most in common with +his own temperament, and proceeds to erect this one incomplete idea +into a philosophy, treating the part as if it were the whole. This is +exactly what happened after the death of Socrates. Only one man among +his disciples was able to grasp the whole of his teaching, and +understand the whole of his personality, and that was Plato. Among the +lesser men who were the followers and personal friends of Socrates, +there were three who founded schools of philosophy, each partial and +one-sided, but each claiming to be the exponent of the true +Socraticism. Antisthenes founded the Cynic school, Aristippus the +Cyrenaic, and Euclid the Megaric. + +Now, of the two aspects of the Socratic philosophy, the theory of +concepts, and the ethical theory, it is easy for us, looking back upon +history, to see which it was that influenced the history of thought +most, and which, therefore, was the most important. But the men of his +own time could not see this. What they fastened upon was the obvious +aspect of Socrates, his ethics, and above all the ethical teaching +which was expressed, not so {157} much in abstract ideas, as in the +life and personality of the master. Both this life and this teaching +might be summed up in the thought that virtue is the sole end of life, +that, as against virtue, all else in the world, comfort, riches, +learning, is comparatively worthless. It is this, then, that virtue is +the sole end of life, which forms the point of agreement between all +the three semi-Socratic schools. We have now to see upon what points +they diverge from one another. + +If virtue is the sole end of life, what precisely is virtue? Socrates +had given no clear answer to this question. The only definition he had +given was that virtue is knowledge, but upon examination it turns out +that this is not a definition at all. Virtue is knowledge, but +knowledge of what? It is not knowledge of astronomy, of mathematics, +or of physics. It is ethical knowledge, that is to say, knowledge of +virtue. To define virtue as the knowledge of virtue is to think in a +circle, and gets us no further in the enquiry what virtue is. But +Socrates, as a matter of fact, did not think in a circle. He did not +mean that virtue is knowledge, although his doctrine is often, +somewhat misleadingly, stated in that form. What he meant was--quite a +different thing--that virtue _depends upon_ knowledge. It is the first +condition of virtue. The principle, accurately stated, is, not that +virtue is the knowledge of virtue, which is thinking in a circle, but +that virtue depends upon the knowledge of virtue, which is quite +straight thinking. Only if you know what virtue is can you be +virtuous. Hence we have not here any definition of virtue, or any +attempt to define it. We are still left with the question, "what is +virtue?" unanswered. + +{158} + +No doubt this was due in part to the unmethodical and unsystematic +manner in which Socrates developed his thought, and this, in its turn, +was due to his conversational style of philosophizing. For it is not +possible to develop systematic thinking in the course of casual +conversations. But in part, too, it was due to the very universality +of the man's genius. He was broad enough to realize that it is not +possible to tie down virtue in any single narrow formula, which shall +serve as a practical receipt for action in all the infinitely various +circumstances of life. So that, in spite of the fact that his whole +principle lay in the method of definitions, Socrates, in fact, left +his followers without any definition of the supreme concept of his +philosophy, virtue. It was upon this point, therefore, that the +followers of Socrates disagreed. They all agreed that virtue is the +sole end of life, but they developed different ideas as to what sort +of life is in fact virtuous. + + + +The Cynics. + +Antisthenes, the founder of the Cynic School, repeated the familiar +propositions that virtue is founded upon knowledge, is teachable, and +is one. But what aroused the admiration of Antisthenes was not +Socrates, the man of intellect, the man of science, the philosopher, +but Socrates, the man of independent character, who followed his own +notions of right with complete indifference to the opinions of others. +This independence was in fact merely a by-product of the Socratic +life. Socrates had been independent of all earthly goods and +possessions, caring neither for riches nor for applause, only because +his heart was set upon a greater treasure, the acquisition of wisdom. +Mere independence and indifference to the {159} opinions of others +were not for him ends in themselves. He did not make fetishes of them. +But the Cynics interpreted his teaching to mean that the independence +of earthly pleasures and possessions is in itself the end and object +of life. This, in fact, was their definition of virtue, complete +renunciation of everything that, for ordinary men, makes life worth +living, absolute asceticism, and rigorous self-mortification. +Socrates, again, thinking that the only knowledge of supreme value is +ethical knowledge, had exhibited a tendency to disparage other kinds +of knowledge. This trait the Cynics exaggerated into a contempt for +all art and learning so great as frequently to amount to ignorance and +boorishness. "Virtue is sufficient for happiness," said Antisthenes, +"and for virtue nothing is requisite but the strength of a Socrates; +it is a matter of action, and does not require many words, or much +learning." The Cynic ideal of virtue is thus purely negative; it is +the absence of all desire, freedom from all wants, complete +independence of all possessions. Many of them refused to own houses or +any dwelling place, and wandered about as vagrants and beggars. +Diogenes, for the same reason, lived in a tub. Socrates, following +single-heartedly what he knew to be good, cared nothing what the +vulgar said. But this indifference to the opinion of others was, like +his independence of possessions, not an end in itself. He did not +interpret it to mean that he was wantonly to offend public opinion. +But the Cynics, to show their indifference, flouted public opinion, +and gave frequent and disgusting exhibitions of indecency. + +Virtue, for the Cynics, is alone good. Vice is the only evil. Nothing +else in the world is either good or bad. {160} Everything else is +"indifferent." Property, pleasure, wealth, freedom, comfort, even life +itself, are not to be regarded as goods. Poverty, misery, illness, +slavery, and death itself, are not to be regarded as evils. It is no +better to be a freeman than a slave, for if the slave have virtue, he +is in himself free, and a born ruler. Suicide is not a crime, and a +man may destroy his life, not however to escape from misery and pain +(for these are not ills), but to show that for him life is +indifferent. And as the line between virtue and vice is absolutely +definite, so is the distinction between the wise man and the fool. All +men are divided into these two classes. There is no middle term +between them. Virtue being one and indivisible, either a man possesses +it whole or does not possess it at all. In the former case he is a +wise man, in the latter case a fool. The wise man possesses all +virtue, all knowledge, all wisdom, all happiness, all perfection. The +fool possesses all evil, all misery, all imperfection. + + + +The Cyrenaics. + +For the Cyrenaics, too, virtue is, at least formally, the sole object +of life. It is only formally, however, because they give to virtue a +definition which robbed it of all meaning. Socrates had not +infrequently recommended virtue on account of the advantages which it +brings. Virtue, he said, is the sole path to happiness, and he had not +refrained from holding out happiness as a motive for virtue. This did +not mean, however, that he did not recognize a man's duty to do the +right for its own sake, and not for the sake of the advantage it +brings. "Honesty," we say, "is the best policy," {161} but we do not +mean thereby to deny that it is the duty of men to be honest even if +it is not, in some particular case, the best policy. Socrates, +however, had not been very clear upon these points, and had been +unable to find any definite basis for morality, other than that of +happiness. It was this side of his teaching which Aristippus now +pressed to its logical conclusions, regardless of all other claims. +Doubtless virtue is the sole end of life, but the sole end of virtue +is one's own advantage, that is to say, pleasure. One may as well say +at once that the sole end of life is pleasure. + +The influence of Protagoras and the Sophists also played its part in +moulding the thought of Aristippus. Protagoras had denied the +objectivity of truth, and the later Sophists had applied the same +theory to morals. Each man is a law unto himself. There is no moral +code binding upon the individual against his own wishes. Aristippus +combined this with his doctrine of pleasure. Pleasure being the sole +end of life, no moral law externally imposed can invalidate its +absolute claims. Nothing is wicked, nothing evil, provided only it +satisfies the individual's thirst for pleasure. + +Whether such a philosophy will lead, in practice, to the complete +degradation of its devotees, depends chiefly upon what sort of +pleasure they have in mind. If refined and intellectual pleasures are +meant, there is no reason why a comparatively good life should not +result. If bodily pleasures are intended, the results are not likely +to be noble. The Cyrenaics by no means wholly ignored the pleasures of +the mind, but they pointed out that feelings of bodily pleasure are +more potent and intense, and it was upon these, therefore, that they +chiefly {162} concentrated their attention. Nevertheless they were +saved from the lowest abysses of sensuality and bestiality by their +doctrine that, in the pursuit of pleasure, the wise man must exercise +prudence. Completely unrestrained pursuit of pleasure leads in fact to +pain and disaster. Pain is that which has to be avoided. Therefore the +wise man will remain always master of himself, will control his +desires, and postpone a more urgent to a less urgent desire, if +thereby in the end more pleasure and less pain will accrue to him. The +Cyrenaic ideal of the wise man is the man of the world, bent indeed +solely upon pleasure, restrained by no superstitious scruples, yet +pursuing his end with prudence, foresight, and intelligence. Such +principles would, of course, admit of various interpretations, +according to the temperament of the individual. We may notice two +examples. Anniceris, the Cyrenaic, believed indeed that pleasure is +the sole end, but set such store upon the pleasures that arise from +friendship and family affection, that he admitted that the wise man +should be ready to sacrifice himself for his friends or family--a +gleam of light in the moral darkness. Hegesias, a pessimist, +considered that positive enjoyment is impossible of attainment. In +practice the sole end of life which can be realized is the avoidance +of pain. + + + +The Megarics. + +Euclid of Megara was the founder of this school. His principle was a +combination of Socraticism with Eleaticism. Virtue is knowledge, but +knowledge of what? It is here that the Eleatic influence became +visible. With Parmenides, the Megarics believed in the One Absolute +Being. All multiplicity, all motion, are illusory. {163} the world of +sense has in it no true reality. Only Being is. If virtue is +knowledge, therefore, it can only be the knowledge of this Being. If +the essential concept of Socrates was the Good and the essential +concept of Parmenides Being, Euclid now combined the two. The Good is +identified with Being. Being, the One, God, the Good, divinity, are +merely different names for one and the same thing. Becoming, the many, +Evil, are the names of its opposite, not-being, Multiplicity is thus +identified with evil, and both are declared illusory. Evil has no real +existence. The Good alone truly is. The various virtues, as +benevolence, temperance, prudence, are merely different names for the +one virtue, knowledge of Being. + +Zeno, the Eleatic, had shown that multiplicity and motion are not only +unreal but even impossible, since they are self-contradictory. The +Megarics appropriated this idea, together with the dialectic of Zeno, +and concluded that since not-being is impossible, Being includes all +possibility. Whatever is possible is also actual. There is no such +thing as a possible something, which yet does not exist. + +As the Cynics found virtue in renunciation and negative independence, +the Cyrenaics in the hedonistic pursuit of pleasure, so the Megarics +find it in the life of philosophic contemplation, the knowledge of +Being. + +{164} + + + +CHAPTER XII + +PLATO + +None of the predecessors of Plato had constructed a system of +philosophy. What they had produced, and in great abundance, were +isolated philosophical ideas, theories, hints, and suggestions. Plato +was the first person in the history of the world to produce a great +all-embracing system of philosophy, which has its ramifications in all +departments of thought and reality. In doing this, Plato laid all +previous thought under contribution. He gathered the entire harvest of +Greek philosophy. All that was best in the Pythagoreans, the Eleatics, +Heracleitus, and Socrates, reappears, transfigured in the system of +Plato. But it is not to be imagined, on this account, that Plato was a +mere eclectic, or a plagiarist, who took the best thoughts of others, +and worked them into some sort of a patch-work philosophy of his own. +He was, on the contrary, in the highest degree an original thinker. +But like all great systems of thought, that of Plato grows out of the +thought of previous thinkers. He does indeed appropriate the ideas of +Heracleitus, Parmenides, and Socrates. But he does not leave them as +he finds them. He takes them as the germs of a new development. They +are the foundations, below ground, upon which he builds the palace of +philosophy. In his hands, all previous thought becomes {165} +transfigured under the light of a new and original principle. + + + +1. Life and Writings. + +The exact date of the birth of Plato is a matter of doubt. But the +date usually given, 429-7 B.C. cannot be far wrong. He came of an +aristocratic Athenian family, and was possessed of sufficient wealth +to enable him to command that leisure which was essential for a life +devoted to philosophy. His youth coincided with the most disastrous +period of Athenian history. After a bitter struggle, which lasted over +a quarter of a century, the Peloponnesian war ended in the complete +downfall of Athens as a political power. And the internal affairs of +the State were in no less confusion than the external. Here, as +elsewhere, a triumphant democracy had developed into mob-rule. Then at +the close of the Peloponnesian war, the aristocratic party again came +into power with the Thirty Tyrants, among whom were some of Plato's +own relatives. But the aristocratic party, so far from improving +affairs, plunged at once into a reign of bloodshed, terror, and +oppression. These facts have an important bearing upon the history of +Plato's life. If he ever possessed any desire to adopt a political +career, the actual condition of Athenian affairs must have quenched +it. An aristocrat, both in thought and by birth, he could not +accommodate himself to the rule of the mob. And if he ever imagined +that the return of the aristocracy to power would improve matters, he +must have been bitterly disillusioned by the proceedings of the Thirty +Tyrants. Disgusted alike with the democracy and the aristocracy he +seems to have retired into seclusion. He never once, throughout his +long life, appeared as a {166} speaker in the popular assembly. He +regarded the Athenian constitution as past help. + +Not much is known of the philosopher's youth. He composed poems. He +was given the best education that an Athenian citizen of those days +could obtain. His teacher, Cratylus, was a follower of Heracleitus, +and Plato no doubt learned from him the doctrines of that philosopher. +It is improbable that he allowed himself to remain unacquainted with +the disputations of the Sophists, many of whom were his own +contemporaries. He probably read the book of Anaxagoras, which was +easily obtainable in Athens at the time. But on all these points we +have no certain information. What we do know is that the decisive +event in his youth, and indeed in his life, was his association with +Socrates. + +For the last eight years of the life of Socrates, Plato was his friend +and his faithful disciple. The teaching and personality of the master +constituted the supreme intellectual impulse of his life, and the +inspiration of his entire thought. And the devotion and esteem which +he felt for Socrates, so far from waning as the years went by, seem, +on the contrary, to have grown continually stronger. For it is +precisely in the latest dialogues of his long life that some of the +most charming and admiring portraits of Socrates are to be found. +Socrates became for him the pattern and exemplar of the true +philosopher. + +After the death of Socrates a second period opens in the life of +Plato, the period of his travels. He migrated first to Megara, where +his friend and fellow-disciple Euclid was then founding the Megaric +school. The Megaric philosophy was a combination of the thought of +Socrates with that of the Eleatics. And it was no doubt here, at {167} +Megara, under the influence of Euclid, that Plato formed his deeper +acquaintance with the teaching of Parmenides, which exercised an +all-important influence upon his own philosophy. From Megara he +travelled to Cyrene, Egypt, Italy, and Sicily. In Italy he came in +contact with the Pythagoreans. And to the effects of this journey may +be attributed the strong Pythagorean elements which permeate his +thought. + +In Sicily he attended the court of Dionysius the Elder, tyrant of +Syracuse. But here his conduct seems to have given grave offence. +Dionysius was so angered by his moralizings and philosophical +diatribes that he put Plato up to auction in the slave market. Plato +narrowly escaped the fate of slavery, but was ransomed by Anniceris, +the Cyrenaic. He then returned to Athens, his travels having occupied +a period of about ten years. + +With the return of Plato to Athens we enter upon the third and last +period of his life. With the exception of two journeys to be mentioned +shortly, he never again left Athens. He now appeared for the first +time as a professional teacher and philosopher. He chose for the scene +of his activities a gymnasium, called the Academy. Here he gradually +collected round him a circle of pupils and disciples. For the rest of +his life, a period of about forty years, he occupied himself in +literary activity, and in the management of the school which he had +founded. His manner of life was in strong contrast to that of +Socrates. Only in one respect did he resemble his master. He took no +fees for his teaching. Otherwise the lives of the two great men bear +no resemblance to each other. Socrates had gone out into the highways +and byways in search of wisdom. He had wrangled in {168} the +market-place with all comers. Plato withdrew himself into the +seclusion of a school, protected from the hubbub of the world by a +ring of faithful disciples. It was not to be expected that a man of +Plato's refinement, culture, and aristocratic feelings, should +appreciate, as Socrates, the man of the people, had done, the +rough-and-tumble life of the Athenian market-place. Nor was it +desirable for the advancement of philosophy that it should be so. The +Socratic philosophy had suffered from the Socratic manner of life. It +was unmethodical and inchoate. Systematic thought is not born of +disputes at the street corner. For the development of a great +world-system, such as that of Plato, laborious study and quiet +seclusion were essential. + +This period of Plato's mastership was broken only by two journeys to +Sicily, both undertaken with political objects. Plato knew well that +the perfect State, as depicted in his "Republic," was not capable of +realization in the Greece of his own time. Nevertheless, he took his +political philosophy very seriously. Though the perfect republic was +an unattainable ideal, yet, he thought, any real reform of the State +must at least proceed in the direction of that ideal. One of the +essential principles of the "Republic" was that the rulers must also +be philosophers. Not till philosopher and ruler were combined in one +and the same person could the State be governed upon true principles. +Now, in the year 368 B.C., Dionysius the Elder died, and Dionysius the +younger became tyrant of Syracuse. Dionysius despatched an invitation +to Plato to attend his court and give him the benefit of his advice. +Here was an opportunity to experiment. Plato could train and educate a +{169} philosopher-king. He accepted the invitation. But the expedition +ended disastrously. Dionysius received him with enthusiasm, and +interested himself in the philosophical discourses of his teacher. But +he was young, impetuous, hot-headed, and without genuine philosophic +bent. His first interest gave place to weariness and irritation. Plato +left Syracuse a disappointed man; and returned to Athens. +Nevertheless, after the lapse of a few years, Dionysius again invited +him to Syracuse, and again he accepted the invitation. But the second +journey ended in disaster like the first, and Plato was even in danger +of his life, but was rescued by the intervention of the Pythagoreans. +He returned to Athens in his seventieth year, and lived till his death +in the seclusion of his school, never again attempting to intervene in +practical politics. + +For more than another decade he dwelt and taught in Athens. His life +was serene, quiet, and happy. He died peacefully at the age of +eighty-two. + +Plato's writings take the form of dialogues. In the majority of these, +the chief part is taken by Socrates, into whose mouth Plato puts the +exposition of his own philosophy. In a few, as for example the +"Parmenides," other speakers enunciate the Platonic teaching, but even +in these Socrates always plays an important _rôle_. Plato was not only +a philosopher, but a consummate literary artist. The dialogues are +genuinely dramatic, enlivened by incident, humour, and life-like +characterization. Not only is the portrait of Socrates drawn with +loving affection, but even the minor characters are flesh and blood. + +A most important element of Plato's style is his use of myths. He does +not always explain his meaning in {170} the form of direct scientific +exposition. He frequently teaches by allegories, fables, and stories, +all of which may be included under the one general appellation of +Platonic myths. These are often of great literary beauty, but in spite +of this they involve grave disadvantages. Plato slips so easily from +scientific exposition into myth, that it is often no easy matter to +decide whether his statements are meant literally or allegorically. +Moreover, the myths usually signify a defect in his thought itself. +The fact is that the combination of poet and philosopher in one man is +an exceedingly dangerous combination. I have explained before that the +object of philosophy is, not merely to feel the truth, as the poet and +mystic feel it, but intellectually to comprehend it, not merely to +give us a series of pictures and metaphors, but a reasoned explanation +of things upon scientific principles. When a man, who is at once a +poet and a philosopher, cannot rationally explain a thing, it is a +terrible temptation to him to substitute poetic metaphors for the +explanation which is lacking. We saw, for example, that the writers of +the Upanishads, who believed that the whole world issues forth from +the one, absolute, imperishable, being, which they called Brahman, +being unable to explain why the One thus differentiates itself into +the many, took refuge in metaphors. As the sparks from the substantial +fire, so, they say, do all finite beings issue forth from the One. But +this explains nothing, and the aim of the philosopher is not thus +vaguely to feel, but rationally to understand. Now this is not merely +my view of the functions of philosophy. It is emphatically Plato's own +view. In fact Plato was the originator of it. He is perpetually +insisting that {171} nothing save full rational comprehension deserves +the names of knowledge and philosophy. No writer has ever used such +contemptuous language as Plato used of the mere mystic and poet, who +says wise and beautiful things, without in the least understanding why +they are wise and beautiful. No man has formed such a low estimate of +the functions of the poet and mystic. Plato is, in theory at least, +the prince of rationalists and intellectualists. In practice, however, +he must be convicted of the very fault he so severely censured in +others. This, in fact, is the explanation of most of the Platonic +myths. Wherever Plato is unable to explain anything, he covers up the +gap in his system with a myth. This is particularly noticeable, for +example, in the "Timaeus." Plato having, in other dialogues, developed +his theory of the nature of the ultimate reality, arrives, in the +"Timaeus," at the problem how the actual world is to be explained from +that ultimate reality. At this point, as we shall see, Plato's system +breaks down. His account of the absolute reality is defective, and in +consequence, it affords no principle whereby the actual universe can +be explained. In the "Timaeus," therefore, instead of a reasoned +explanation, he gives us a series of wholly fanciful myths about the +origin of the world. Wherever we find myths in Plato's dialogues, we +may suspect that we have arrived at one of the weak points of the +system. + +If we are to study Plato intelligently, it is essential that we should +cease to regard the dialogues as if they were all produced _en bloc_ +from a single phase of their author's mind. His literary activity +extended over a period of not less than fifty years. During that time, +he did not stand still. His thought, and his mode of {172} expression, +were constantly developing. If we are to understand Plato, we must +obtain some clue to enable us to trace this development. And this +means that we must know something of the order in which the dialogues +were written. Unfortunately, however, they have not come down to us +dated and numbered. It is a matter of scholarship and criticism to +deduce the period at which any dialogue was written from internal +evidences. Many minor points are still undecided, as well as a few +questions of importance, such as the date of the "Phaedrus," [Footnote +11] which some critics place quite early and some very late in Plato's +life. Neglecting these points, however, we may say in general that +unanimity has been reached, and that we now know enough to be able to +trace the main lines of development. + +[Footnote 11: The same remark applies to the "Symposium," the +"Republic," and the "Theaetetus."] + +The dialogues fall into three main groups, which correspond roughly to +the three periods of Plato's life. Those of the earliest group were +written about the time of the death of Socrates, and before the +author's journey to Megara. Some of them may have been written before +the death of Socrates. This group includes the "Hippias Minor," the +"Lysis," the "Charmides," the "Laches," the "Euthyphro," the +"Apology," the "Crito," and the "Protagoras." The "Protagoras" is the +longest, the most complex in thought, and the most developed. It is +probably the latest, and forms the bridge to the second group. + +All these early dialogues are short and simple, and are still, as +regards their thought, entirely under the influence of Socrates. Plato +has not as yet developed {173} any philosophy of his own. He propounds +the philosophy of Socrates almost unaltered. Even so, however, he is +no mere plagiarist. There are throughout these dialogues evidences of +freshness and originality, but these qualities exhibit themselves +rather in the literary form than in the philosophical substance. We +find here all the familiar Socratic propositions, that virtue is +knowledge, is one, is teachable; that all men seek the good, but that +men differ as to what the good is; that a man who does wrong +deliberately is better than a man who does it unintentionally; and so +on. Moreover, just as Socrates had occupied himself in attempting to +fix the concepts of the virtues, asking "what is prudence?", "what is +temperance?", and the like, so in many of these dialogues Plato +pursues similar inquiries. The "Lysis" discusses the concept of +friendship, the "Charmides" of temperance, the "Laches" of bravery. On +the whole, the philosophical substance of these early writings is thin +and meagre. There is a preponderance of incident and much biographical +detail regarding Socrates. There is more art than matter. +Consequently, from a purely literary point of view, these are among +the most charming of Plato's dialogues, and many of them, such as the +"Apology" and the "Crito," are especially popular with those who care +for Plato rather as an artist than as a philosopher. + +The second group of dialogues is generally connected with the period +of Plato's travels. In addition to the influence of Socrates, we have +now the influence of the Eleatics, which naturally connects these +dialogues with the period of the philosopher's sojourn at Megara. But +it is in these dialogues, too, that Plato for the first time {174} +develops his own special philosophical thesis. This is in fact his +great constructive period. The central and governing principle of his +philosophy is the theory of Ideas. All else hinges on this, and is +dominated by this. In a sense, his whole philosophy is nothing but the +theory of Ideas and what depends upon it. It is in this second period +that the theory of Ideas is founded and developed, and its +relationship to the Eleatic philosophy of Being discussed. We have +here the spectacle of Plato's most original thoughts in the pangs of +childbirth. He is now at grips with the central problems of +philosophy. He is intent upon the thought itself, and cares little for +the ornaments of style. He is struggling to find expression for ideas +newly-formed in his mind, of which he is not yet completely master, +and which he cannot manipulate with ease. Consequently, the literary +graces of the first period recede into the background. There is little +incident, and no humour. There is nothing but close reasoning, hard +and laborious discussion. + +The twin dialogues, "Gorgias" and "Theaetetus" are probably the +earliest of this group. They result in nothing very definite, and are +chiefly negative in character. Plato is here engaged merely in a +preparatory clearing of the ground. The "Gorgias" discusses and +refutes the Sophistic identification of virtue and pleasure, and +attempts to show, as against it, that the good must be something +objectively existent, and independent of the pleasure of the +individual. The "Theaetetus," similarly, shows that truth is not, as +the Sophists thought, merely the subjective impression of the +individual, but is something objectively true in itself. The other +{175} dialogues of the group are the "Sophist," the "Statesman," and +the "Parmenides." The "Sophist" discusses Being and not-being, and +their relationship to the theory of Ideas. The "Parmenides" inquires +whether the absolute reality is to be regarded, in the manner of the +Eleatics, as an abstract One. It gives us, therefore, Plato's +conception of the relation of his own philosophy to Eleaticism. + +The dialogues of the third group are the work of Plato's maturity. He +has now completely mastered his thought, and turns it with ease in all +directions. Hence the style returns to the lucidity and purity of the +first period. If the first period was marked chiefly by literary +grace, the second by depth of thought, the third period combines both. +The perfect substance is now moulded in the perfect form. But a +peculiarity of all the dialogues of this period is that they take it +for granted that the theory of Ideas is already established and +familiar to the reader. They proceed to apply it to all departments of +thought. The second period was concerned with the formulation and +proof of the theory of Ideas, the third period undertakes its +systematic application. Thus the "Symposium," which has for its +subject the metaphysic of love, attempts to connect man's feeling for +beauty with the intellectual knowledge of the Ideas. The "Philebus" +applies the theory of Ideas to the sphere of ethics, the "Timaeus" to +the sphere of physics, and the "Republic" to the sphere of politics. +The "Phaedo" founds the doctrine of the immortality of the soul upon +the theory of Ideas. The "Phaedrus" is probably to be grouped with the +"Symposium." The beauty, grace, and lucidity of the style, and the +fact that it assumes throughout that {176} the theory of Ideas is a +thing established, lead us to the belief that it belongs to the period +of Plato's maturity. Zeller's theory that it was written at the +beginning of the second period, and is then offered to the reader as a +sort of sweetmeat to induce him to enter upon the laborious task of +reading the "Sophist," the "Statesman," and the "Parmenides," seems to +be far-fetched and unnecessary. [Footnote 12] + +[Footnote 12: Zeller's _Plato and the Older Academy_, chap. iii.] + +If the second is the great constructive period of Plato's life, the +third may be described as his systematic and synthetic period. Every +part of his philosophy is here linked up with every other part. All +the details of the system are seen to flow from the one central +principle of his thought, the theory of Ideas. Every sphere of +knowledge and being is in turn exhibited in the light of that +principle, is permeated and penetrated by it. + +The plan for expounding Plato which first suggests itself is to go +through the dialogues, one by one, and extract the doctrine of each +successively. But this suggestion has to be given up as soon as it is +mentioned. For although the philosophy of Plato is in itself a +systematic and coherent body of thought, he did not express it in a +systematic way. On the contrary, he scatters his ideas in all +directions. He throws them out at random in any order. What logically +comes first often appears last. It may be found at the end of a +dialogue, and the next step in reasoning may make its appearance at +the beginning, or even in a totally different dialogue. If, therefore, +we are to get any connected view of the system, we must abandon +Plato's own order of exposition, and piece the thought together for +ourselves. We must begin {177} with what logically comes first, +wherever we may find it, and proceed with the exposition in the same +manner. + +A similar difficulty attends the question of the division of Plato's +philosophy. He himself has given us no single and certain principle of +division. But the principle usually adopted divides his philosophy +into Dialectic, Physics, and Ethics. Dialectic, or the theory of +Ideas, is Plato's doctrine of the nature of the absolute reality. +Physics is the theory of phenomenal existence in space and time, and +includes therefore the doctrine of the soul and its migrations, since +these are happenings in time. Ethics includes politics, the theory of +the duty of man as a citizen, as well as the ethics of the individual. +Certain portions of the system, the doctrine of Eros, for example, do +not fall very naturally into any of these divisions. But, on the other +hand, though some dialogues are mixed as to their subject matter, +others, and those the most important, fall almost exclusively into one +or other division. For example, the "Timaeus," the "Phaedo," and the +"Phaedrus," are physical. The "Philebus," the "Gorgias," and the +"Republic," are ethical. The "Theaetetus," the "Sophist," and the +"Parmenides," are dialectical. + + + +2. The Theory of Knowledge. + +The theory of Ideas is itself based upon the theory of knowledge. What +is knowledge? What is truth? Plato opens the discussion by telling us +first what knowledge and truth are not. His object here is the +refutation of false theories. These must be disposed of to clear the +ground preparatory to positive exposition. The first such false theory +which he attacks is that knowledge {178} is perception. To refute this +is the main object of the "Theaetetus." His arguments may be +summarized as follows:-- + +(1) That knowledge is perception is the theory of Protagoras and the +Sophists, and we have seen to what results it leads. What it amounts +to is that what appears to each individual true is true for that +individual. But this is at any rate false in its application to our +judgment of future events. The frequent mistakes which men make about +the future show this. It may appear to me that I shall be Chief +Justice next year. But instead of that, I find myself, perhaps, in +prison. In general, what appears to each individual to be the truth +about the future frequently does not turn out so in the event. + +(2) Perception yields contradictory impressions. The same object +appears large when near, small when removed to a distance. Compared +with some things it is light, with others heavy. In one light it is +white, in another green, and in the dark it has no colour at all. +Looked at from one angle this piece of paper seems square, from +another it appears to be a rhombus. Which of all these impressions is +true? To know which is true, we must be able to exercise a choice +among these varying impressions, to prefer one to another, to +discriminate, to accept this and reject that. But if knowledge is +perception, then we have no right to give one perception preference +over another. For all perceptions are knowledge. All are true. + +(3) This doctrine renders all teaching, all discussion, proof, or +disproof, impossible. Since all perceptions are equally true, the +child's perceptions must be just as much the truth as those of his +teachers. His teachers, {179} therefore, can teach him nothing. As to +discussion and proof, the very fact that two people dispute about +anything implies that they believe in the existence of an objective +truth. Their impressions, if they contradict each other, cannot both +be true. For if so, there is nothing to dispute about. Thus all proof +and refutation are rendered futile by the theory of Protagoras. + +(4) If perception is truth, man is the measure of all things, in his +character as a percipient being. But since animals are also percipient +beings, the lowest brute must be, equally with man, the measure of all +things. + +(5) The theory of Protagoras contradicts itself. For Protagoras admits +that what appears to me true is true. If, therefore, it appears to me +true that the doctrine of Protagoras is false, Protagoras himself must +admit that it is false. + +(6) It destroys the objectivity of truth, and renders the distinction +between truth and falsehood wholly meaningless. The same thing is true +and false at the same time, true for you and false for me. Hence it +makes no difference at all whether we say that a proposition is true, +or whether we say that it is false. Both statements mean the same +thing, that is to say, neither of them means anything. To say that +whatever I perceive is true for me merely gives a new name to my +perception, but does not add any value to it. + +(7) In all perception there are elements which are not contributed by +the senses. Suppose I say, "This piece of paper is white." This, we +might think, is a pure judgment of perception. Nothing is stated +except what I perceive by means of my senses. But on consideration it +turns out that this is not correct. First of all I must {180} think +"this piece of paper." Why do I call it paper? My doing so means that +I have classified it. I have mentally compared it with other pieces of +paper, and decided that it is of a class with them. My thought, then, +involves comparison and classification. The object is a compound +sensation of whiteness, squareness, etc. I can only recognise it as a +piece of paper by identifying these sensations, which I have now, with +sensations received from other similar objects in the past. And not +only must I recognize the sameness of the sensations, but I must +recognize their difference from other sensations. I must not confound +the sensations I receive from paper with those which I receive from a +piece of wood. Both identities and differences of sensations must be +known before I can say "this piece of paper." The same is true when I +go on to say that it "is white." This is only possible by classifying +it with other white objects, and differentiating it from objects of +other colours. But the senses themselves cannot perform these acts of +comparison and contrast. Each sensation is, so to speak, an isolated +dot. It cannot go beyond itself to compare itself with others. This +operation must be performed by my mind, which acts as a co-ordinating +central authority, receiving the isolated sensations, combining, +comparing, and contrasting them. This is particularly noticeable in +cases where we compare sensations of one sense with those of another. +Feeling a ball with my fingers, I say it feels round. Looking at it +with my eyes, I say it looks round. But the feel is quite a different +sensation from the look. Yet I use the same word, "round," to describe +both. And this shows that I have identified the two sensations. This +{181} cannot be done by the senses themselves. For my eyes cannot +feel, and my fingers cannot see. It must be the mind itself, standing +above the senses, which performs the identification. Thus the ideas of +identity and difference are not yielded to me by my senses. The +intellect itself introduces them into things. Yet they are involved in +all knowledge, for they are involved even in the simplest acts of +knowledge, such as the proposition, "This is white." Knowledge, +therefore, cannot consist simply of sense-impressions, as Protagoras +thought, for even the simplest propositions contain more than +sensation. + +If knowledge is not the same as perception, neither is it, on the +other hand, the same as opinion. That knowledge is opinion is the +second false theory that Plato seeks to refute. Wrong opinion is +clearly not knowledge. But even right opinion cannot be called +knowledge. If I say, without any grounds for the statement, that there +will be a thunderstorm next Easter Sunday, it may chance that my +statement turns out to be correct. But it cannot be said that, in +making this blind guess, I had any knowledge, although, as it turned +out, I had right opinion. Right opinion may also be grounded, not on +mere guess-work, but on something which, though better, is still not +true understanding. We often feel intuitively, or instinctively, that +something is true, though we cannot give any definite grounds for our +belief. The belief may be quite correct, but it is not, according to +Plato, knowledge. It is only right opinion. To possess knowledge, one +must not only know that a thing is so, but why it is so. One must know +the reasons. Knowledge must be full and complete understanding, +rational comprehension, and not mere instinctive belief. {182} It must +be grounded on reason, and not on faith. Right opinion may be produced +by persuasion and sophistry, by the arts of the orator and +rhetorician. Knowledge can only be produced by reason. Right opinion +may equally be removed by the false arts of rhetoric, and is therefore +unstable and uncertain. But true knowledge cannot be thus shaken. He +who truly knows and understands cannot be robbed of his knowledge by +the glamour of words. Opinion, lastly, may be true or false. Knowledge +can only be true. + +These false theories being refuted, we can now pass to the positive +side of the theory of knowledge. If knowledge is neither perception +nor opinion, what is it? Plato adopts, without alteration, the +Socratic doctrine that all knowledge is knowledge through concepts. +This, as I explained in the lecture on Socrates, gets rid of the +objectionable results of the Sophistic identification of knowledge +with perception. A concept, being the same thing as a definition, is +something fixed and permanent, not liable to mutation according to the +subjective impressions of the individual. It gives us objective truth. +This also agrees with Plato's view of opinion. Knowledge is not +opinion, founded on instinct or intuition. Knowledge is founded on +reason. This is the same as saying that it is founded upon concepts, +since reason is the faculty of concepts. + +But if Plato, in answering the question, "What is knowledge?" follows +implicitly the teaching of Socrates, he yet builds upon this teaching +a new and wholly un-Socratic metaphysic of his own. The Socratic +theory of knowledge he now converts into a theory of the nature of +reality. This is the subject-matter of Dialectic. + +{183} + + + +3. Dialectic, or the Theory of Ideas. + +The concept had been for Socrates merely a rule of thought. +Definitions, like guide-rails, keep thought upon the straight path; we +compare any act with the definition of virtue in order to ascertain +whether it is virtuous. But what was for Socrates merely regulative of +thought, Plato now transforms into a metaphysical substance. His +theory of Ideas is the theory of the objectivity of concepts. That the +concept is not merely an idea in the mind, but something which has a +reality of its own, outside and independent of the mind--this is the +essence of the philosophy of Plato. + +How did Plato arrive at this doctrine? It is founded upon the view +that truth means the correspondence of one's ideas with the facts of +existence. If I see a lake of water, and if there really is such a +lake, then my idea is true. But if there is no lake, then my idea is +false. It is an hallucination. Truth, according to this view, means +that the thought in my mind is a copy of something outside my mind. +Falsehood consists in having an idea which is not a copy of anything +which really exists. Knowledge, of course, means knowledge of the +truth. And when I say that a thought in my mind is knowledge, I must +therefore mean that this thought is a copy of something that exists. +But we have already seen that knowledge is the knowledge of concepts. +And if a concept is true knowledge, it can only be true in virtue of +the fact that it corresponds to an objective reality. There must, +therefore, be general ideas or concepts, outside my mind. It were a +contradiction to suppose, on the one hand, that the concept is true +knowledge, and on the other, that it corresponds to nothing external +{184} to us. This would be like saying that my idea of the lake of +water is a true idea, but that no such lake really exists. The concept +in my mind must be a copy of the concept outside it. + +Now if knowledge by concepts is true, our experiences through +sensation must be false. Our senses make us aware of many individual +horses. Our intellect gives us the concept of the horse in general. If +the latter is the sole truth, the former must be false. And this can +only mean that the objects of sensation have no true reality. What has +reality is the concept; what has no reality is the individual thing +which is perceived by the senses. This and that particular horse have +no true being. Reality belongs only to the idea of the horse in +general. + +Let us approach this theory from a somewhat different direction. +Suppose I ask you the question, "What is beauty?" You point to a rose, +and say, "Here is beauty." And you say the same of a woman's face, a +piece of woodland scenery, and a clear moonlight night. But I answer +that this is not what I want to know. I did not ask what things are +beautiful, but what is beauty. I did not ask for many things, but for +one thing, namely, beauty. If beauty is a rose, it cannot be +moonlight, because a rose and moonlight are quite different things. By +beauty we mean, not many things, but one. This is proved by the fact +that we use only one word for it. And what I want to know is what this +one beauty is, which is distinct from all beautiful objects. Perhaps +you will say that there is no such thing as beauty apart from +beautiful objects, and that, though we use one word, yet this is only +a manner of {185} speech, and that there are in reality many beauties, +each residing in a beautiful object. In that case, I observe that, +though the many beauties are all different, yet, since you use the one +word to describe them all, you evidently think that they are similar +to each other. How do you know that they are similar? Your eyes cannot +inform you of this similarity, because it involves comparison, and we +have already seen that comparison is an act of the mind, and not of +the senses. You must therefore have an idea of beauty in your mind, +with which you compare the various beautiful objects and so recognise +them as all resembling your idea of beauty, and therefore as +resembling each other. So that there is at any rate an idea of one +beauty in your mind. Either this idea corresponds to something outside +you, or it does not. In the latter case, your idea of beauty is a mere +invention, a figment of your own brain. If so, then, in judging +external objects by your subjective idea, and in making it the +standard of whether they are beautiful or not, you are back again at +the position of the Sophists. You are making yourself and the fancies +of your individual brain the standard of external truth. Therefore, +the only alternative is to believe that there is not only an idea of +beauty in your mind, but that there is such a thing as the one beauty +itself, of which your idea is a copy. This beauty exists outside the +mind, and it is something distinct from all beautiful objects. + +What has been said of beauty may equally be said of justice, or of +goodness, or of whiteness, or of heaviness. There are many just acts, +but only one justice, since we use one word for it. This justice must +be a real thing, distinct from all particular just acts. Our ideas of +justice {186} are copies of it. So also there are many white objects, +but also the one whiteness. + +Of the above examples, several are very exalted moral ideas, such as +beauty, justice, and goodness. But the case of whiteness will serve to +show that the theory attributes reality not only to exalted ideas, but +to others also. In fact, we might quite well substitute evil for +goodness, and all the same arguments would apply. Or we might take a +corporeal object such as the horse, and ask what "horse" means. It +does not mean the many individual horses, for since one word is used +it must mean one thing, which is related to individual horses, just as +whiteness is related to individual white things. It means the +universal horse, the idea of the horse in general, and this, just as +much as goodness or beauty, must be something objectively real. + +Now beauty, justice, goodness, whiteness, the horse in general, are +all concepts. The idea of beauty is formed by including what is common +to all beautiful objects, and excluding those points in which they +differ. And this, as we have seen, is just what is meant by a concept. +Plato's theory, therefore, is that concepts are objective realities. +And he gives to these objective concepts the technical name Ideas. +This is his answer to the chief question of philosophy, namely, what, +amid all the appearances and unrealities of things, is that absolute +and ultimate reality, from which all else is to be explained? It +consists, for Plato, in Ideas. + +Let us see next what the characteristics of the Ideas are. In the +first place, they are substances. Substance is a technical term in +philosophy, but its philosophical meaning is merely a more consistent +development of its {187} popular meaning. In common talk, we generally +apply the word substance to material things such as iron, brass, wood, +or water. And we say that these substances possess qualities. For +example, hardness and shininess are qualities of the substance iron. +The qualities cannot exist apart from the substances. They do not +exist on their own account, but are dependent on the substance. The +shininess cannot exist by itself. There must be a shiny something. +But, according to popular ideas, though the qualities are not +independent of the substance, the substance is independent of the +qualities. The qualities derive their reality from the substance. But +the substance has reality in itself. The philosophical use of the term +substance is simply a more consistent application of this idea. +Substance means, for the philosopher, that which has its whole being +in itself, whose reality does not flow into it from anything else, but +which is the source of its own reality. It is self-caused, and +self-determined. It is the ground of other things, but itself has no +ground except itself. For example, if we believe the popular Christian +idea that God created the world, but is Himself an ultimate and +uncreated being, then, since the world depends for its existence upon +God, but God's existence depends only upon Himself, God is a substance +and the world is not. In this sense the word is correctly used in the +Creed where it speaks of God as "three persons, but one substance." +Again, if, with the Idealists, we think that mind is a self-existent +reality, and that matter owes its existence to mind, then in that case +matter is not substance, but mind is. In this technical sense the +Ideas are substances. They are absolute and ultimate realities. {188} +Their whole being is in themselves. They depend on nothing, but all +things depend on them. They are the first principles of the universe. + +Secondly, the Ideas are universal. An Idea is not any particular +thing. The Idea of the horse is not this or that horse. It is the +general concept of all horses. It is the universal horse. For this +reason the Ideas are, in modern times, often called "universals." + +Thirdly, the Ideas are not things, but thoughts. There is no such +thing as the horse-in-general. If there were, we should be able to +find it somewhere, and it would then be a particular thing instead of +a universal. But in saying that the Ideas are thoughts, there are two +mistakes to be carefully avoided. The first is to suppose that they +are the thoughts of a person, that they are your thoughts or my +thoughts. The second is to suppose that they are thoughts in the mind +of God. Both these views are wrong. It would be absurd to suppose that +our thoughts can be the cause of the universe. Our concepts are indeed +copies of the Ideas, but to confuse them with the Ideas themselves is, +for Plato, as absurd as to confuse our idea of a mountain with the +mountain itself. Nor are they the thoughts of God. They are indeed +sometimes spoken of as the "Ideas in the divine mind." But this is +only a figurative expression. We can, if we like, talk of the sum of +all the Ideas as constituting the "divine mind." But this means +nothing in particular, and is only a poetical phrase. Both these +mistakes are due to the fact that we find it difficult to conceive of +thoughts without a thinker. This, however, is just what Plato meant. +They are not subjective ideas, that is, the ideas in a particular and +existent {189} mind. They are objective Ideas, thoughts which have +reality on their own account, independently of any mind. + +Fourthly, each Idea is a unity. It is the one amid the many. The Idea +of man is one, although individual men are many. There cannot be more +than one Idea for each class of objects. If there were several Ideas +of justice, we should have to seek for the common element among them, +and this common element would itself constitute the one Idea of +justice. + +Fifthly, the Ideas are immutable and imperishable. A concept is the +same as a definition. And the whole point in a definition is that it +should always be the same. The object of a definition is to compare +individual things with it, and to see whether they agree with it or +not. But if the definition of a triangle differed from day to day, it +would be useless, since we could never say whether any particular +figure were a triangle or not, just as the standard yard in the Tower +of London would be useless if it changed in length, and were twice as +long to-day as it was yesterday. A definition is thus something +absolutely permanent, and a definition is only the expression in words +of the nature of an Idea. Consequently the Ideas cannot change. The +many beautiful objects arise and pass away, but the one Beauty neither +begins nor ends. It is eternal, unchangeable, and imperishable. The +many beautiful things are but the fleeting expressions of the one +eternal beauty. The definition of man would remain the same, even if +all men were destroyed. The Idea of man is eternal, and remains +untouched by the birth, old age, decay, and death, of individual men. + +Sixthly, the Ideas are the Essences of all things. The definition +gives us what is essential to a thing. If we {190} define man as a +rational animal, this means that reason is of the essence of man. The +fact that this man has a turned-up nose, and that man red hair, are +accidental facts, not essential to their humanity. We do not include +them in the definition of man. + +Seventhly, each Idea is, in its own kind, an absolute perfection, and +its perfection is the same as its reality. The perfect man is the one +universal type-man, that is, the Idea of man, and all individual men +deviate more or less from this perfect type. In so far as they fall +short of it, they are imperfect and unreal. + +Eighthly, the Ideas are outside space and time. That they are outside +space is obvious. If they were in space, they would have to be in some +particular place. We ought to be able to find them somewhere. A +telescope or microscope might reveal them. And this would mean that +they are individual and particular things, and not universals at all. +They are also outside time. For they are unchangeable and eternal; and +this does not mean that they are the same at all times. If that were +so, their immutability would be a matter of experience, and not of +reason. We should, so to speak, have to look at them from time to time +to see that they had not really changed. But their immutability is not +a matter of experience, but is known to thought. It is not merely that +they are always the same in time, but that time is irrelevant to them. +They are timeless. In the "Timaeus" eternity is distinguished from +infinite time. The latter is described as a mere copy of eternity. + +Ninthly, the Ideas are rational, that is to say, they are apprehended +through reason. The finding of the common element in the manifold is +the work of inductive {191} reason, and through this alone is +knowledge of the Ideas possible. This should be noted by those persons +who imagine that Plato was some sort of benevolent mystic. The +imperishable One, the absolute reality, is apprehended, not by +intuition, or in any kind of mystic ecstasy, but only by rational +cognition and laborious thought. + +Lastly, towards the end of his life, Plato identified the Ideas with +the Pythagorean numbers. We know this from Aristotle, but it is not +mentioned in the dialogues of Plato himself. It appears to have been a +theory adopted in old age, and set forth in the lectures which +Aristotle attended. It is a retrograde step, and tends to degrade the +great and lucid idealism of Plato into a mathematical mysticism. In +this, as in other respects, the influence of the Pythagoreans upon +Plato was harmful. + +It results from this whole theory of Ideas that there are two sources +of human experience, sense-perception and reason. Sense-perception has +for its object the world of sense; reason has for its object the +Ideas. The world of sense has all the opposite characteristics to the +Ideas. The Ideas are absolute reality, absolute Being. Objects of +sense are absolute unreality, not-being, except in so far as the Ideas +are in them. Whatever reality they have they owe to the Ideas. There +is in Plato's system a principle of absolute not-being which we shall +consider when we come to deal with his Physics. Objects of sense +participate both in the Ideas and in this not-being. They are, +therefore, half way between Being and not-being. They are half real. +Ideas, again, are universal; things of sense are always particular and +individual. The Idea is one, the sense-object is always {192} a +multiplicity. Ideas are outside space and time, things of sense are +both temporal and spatial. The Idea is eternal and immutable; +sense-objects are changeable and in perpetual flux. + +As regards the last point, Plato adopts the view of Heracleitus that +there is an absolute Becoming, and he identifies it with the world of +sense, which contains nothing stable and permanent, but is a constant +flow. The Idea always is, and never becomes; the thing of sense always +becomes, and never is. It is for this reason that, in the opinion of +Plato, no knowledge of the world of sense is possible, for one can +have no knowledge of that which changes from moment to moment. +Knowledge is only possible if its subject stands fixed before the +mind, is permanent and changeless. The only knowledge, then, is +knowledge of the Ideas. + +This may seem, at first sight, a very singular doctrine. That there +can be no knowledge of sense-objects would, it might seem to us +moderns, involve the denial that modern physical science, with all its +exactitude and accumulated knowledge, is knowledge at all. And surely, +though all earthly things arise and pass away, many of them last long +enough to admit of knowledge. Surely the mountains are sufficiently +permanent to allow us to know something of them. They have relative, +though not absolute, permanence. This criticism is partly justified. +Plato did underestimate the value of physical knowledge. But for the +most part, the criticism is a misunderstanding. By the world of sense +Plato means bare sensation with no rational element in it. Now +physical science has not such crude sensation for its object. Its +objects are rationalized sensations. {193} If, in Plato's manner, we +think only of pure sensation, then it is true that it is nothing but a +constant flux without stability; and knowledge of it is impossible. +The mountains are comparatively permanent. But our sensation of the +mountains is perpetually changing. Every change of light, every cloud +that passes over the sun, changes the colours and the shades. Every +time we move from one situation to another, the mountain appears a +different shape. The permanence of the mountain itself is due to the +fact that all these varying sensations are identified as sensations of +one and the same object. The idea of identity is involved here, and it +is, as it were, a thread upon which these fleeting sensations are +strung. But the idea of identity cannot be obtained from the senses. +It is introduced into things by reason. Hence knowledge of this +permanent mountain is only possible through the exercise of reason. In +Plato's language, all we can know of the mountain is the Ideas in +which it participates. To revert to a previous example, even the +knowledge "this paper is white" involves the activity of intellect, +and is impossible through sensation alone. Bare sensation is a flow, +of which no knowledge is possible. + +Aristotle observes that Plato's theory of Ideas has three sources, the +teachings of the Eleatics, of Heracleitus, and of Socrates. From +Heracleitus, Plato took the notion of a sphere of Becoming, and it +appears in his system as the world of sense. From the Eleatics he took +the idea of a sphere of absolute Being. From Socrates he took the +doctrine of concepts, and proceeded to identify the Eleatic Being with +the Socratic concepts. This gives him his theory of Ideas. + +{194} + +Sense objects, so far as they are knowable, that is so far as they are +more than bare sensations, are so only because the Idea resides in +them. And this yields the clue to Plato's teaching regarding the +relation of sense objects to the Ideas. The Ideas are, in the first +place the cause, that is to say, the ground (not the mechanical cause) +of sense-objects. The Ideas are the absolute reality by which +individual things must be explained. The being of things flows into +them from the Ideas. They are "copies," "imitations," of the Ideas. In +so far as they resemble the Idea, they are real; in so far as they +differ from it, they are unreal. In general, sense objects are, in +Plato's opinion, only very dim, poor and imperfect copies of the +Ideas. They are mere shadows, and half-realities. Another expression +frequently used by Plato to express this relationship is that of +"participation." Things participate in the Ideas. White objects +participate in the one whiteness, beautiful objects, in the one +beauty. In this way beauty itself is the cause or explanation of +beautiful objects, and so of all other Ideas. The Ideas are thus both +transcendent and immanent; immanent in so far as they reside in the +things of sense, transcendent inasmuch as they have a reality of their +own apart from the objects of sense which participate in them. The +Idea of man would still be real even if all men were destroyed, and it +was real before any man existed, if there ever was such a time. For +the Ideas, being timeless, cannot be real now and not then. + +Of what kinds of things are there Ideas? That there are moral Ideas, +such as Justice, Goodness, and Beauty, Ideas of corporeal things, such +as horse, man, tree, star, river, and Ideas of qualities, such as +whiteness, heaviness, {195} sweetness, we have already seen. But there +are Ideas not only of natural corporeal objects, but likewise of +manufactured articles; there are Ideas of beds, tables, clothes. And +there are Ideas not only of exalted moral entities, such as Beauty and +Justice. There are also the Ideal Ugliness, and the Ideal Injustice. +There are even Ideas of the positively nauseating, such as hair, +filth, and dirt. This is asserted in the "Parmenides." In that +dialogue Plato's teaching is put into the mouth of Parmenides. He +questions the young Socrates whether there are Ideas of hair, filth, +and dirt. Socrates denies that there can be Ideas of such base things. +But Parmenides corrects him, and tells him that, when he has attained +the highest philosophy, he will no longer despise such things. +Moreover, these Ideas of base things are just as much perfection in +their kind as Beauty and Goodness are in theirs. In general, the +principle is that there must be an Idea wherever a concept can be +formed; that is, wherever there is a class of many things called by +one name. + +We saw, in treating of the Eleatics, that for them the absolute Being +contained no not-being, and the absolute One no multiplicity. And it +was just because they denied all not-being and multiplicity of the +absolute reality that they were unable to explain the world of +existence, and were forced to deny it altogether. The same problem +arises for Plato. Is Being absolutely excludent of not-being? Is the +Absolute an abstract One, utterly exclusive of the many? Is his +philosophy a pure monism? Is it a pluralism? Or is it a combination of +the two? These questions are discussed in the "Sophist" and the +"Parmenides." + +{196} + +Plato investigates the relations of the One and the many, Being and +not-being, quite in the abstract. He decides the principles involved, +and leaves it to the reader to apply them to the theory of Ideas. +Whether the Absolute is one or many, Being or not-being, can be +decided independently of any particular theory of the nature of the +Absolute, and therefore independently of Plato's own theory, which was +that the Absolute consists of Ideas. Plato does not accept the Eleatic +abstraction. The One cannot be simply one, for every unity must +necessarily be a multiplicity. The many and the One are correlative +ideas which involve each other. Neither is thinkable without the +other. A One which is not many is as absurd an abstraction as a whole +which has no parts. For the One can only be defined as that which is +not many, and the many can only be defined as the not-one. The One is +unthinkable except as standing out against a background of the many. +The idea of the One therefore involves the idea of the many, and +cannot be thought without it. Moreover, an abstract One is unthinkable +and unknowable, because all thought and knowledge consist in applying +predicates to subjects, and all predication involves the duality of +its subject. + +Consider the simplest affirmation that can be made about the One, +namely, "The One is." Here we have two things, "the One," and "is," +that is to say, being. The proposition means that the One is Being. +Hence the One is two. Firstly, it is itself, "One." Secondly, it is +"Being," and the proposition affirms that these two things are one. +Similarly with any other predicate we apply to the One. Whatever we +say of it involves its duality. Thus we find that all systems of +thought which {197} postulate an abstract unity as ultimate reality, +such as Eleaticism, Hinduism, and the system of Spinoza, attempt to +avoid the difficulty by saying nothing positive about the One. They +apply to it only negative predicates, which tell us not what it is, +but what it is not. Thus the Hindus speak of Brahman as form_less_, +_im_mutable, _im_perishable, _un_moved, _un_created. But this, of course, +is a futile expedient. In the first place, even a negative predicate +involves the duality of the subject. And, in the second place, a +negative predicate is always, by implication, a positive one. You +cannot have a negative without a positive. To deny one thing is to +affirm its opposite. To deny motion of the One, by calling it the +unmoved, is to affirm rest of it. Thus a One which is not also a many +is unthinkable. Similarly, the idea of the many is inconceivable +without the idea of the One. For the many is many ones. Hence the One +and the many cannot be separated in the Eleatic manner. Every unity +must be a unity of the many. And every many is _ipso facto_ a unity, +since we think the many in one idea, and, if we did not, we should not +even know that it is a many. The Absolute must therefore be neither an +abstract One, nor an abstract many. It must be a many in one. + +Similarly, Being cannot totally exclude not-being. They are, just as +much as the One and the many, correlatives, which mutually involve +each other. The being of anything is the not-being of its opposite. +The being of light is the not-being of darkness. All being, therefore, +has not-being in it. + +Let us apply these principles to the theory of Ideas. The absolute +reality, the world of Ideas, is many, since {198} there are many +Ideas, but it is one, because the Ideas are not isolated units, but +members of a single organized system. There is, in fact, a hierarchy +of Ideas. Just as the one Idea presides over many individual things of +which it is the common element, so one higher Idea presides over many +lower Ideas, and is the common element in them. And over this higher +Idea, together with many others, a still higher Idea will rule. For +example, the Ideas of whiteness, redness, blueness, are all subsumed +under the one Idea of colour. The Ideas of sweetness and bitterness +come under the one Idea of taste. But the Ideas of colour and taste +themselves stand under the still higher Idea of quality. In this way, +the Ideas form, as it were, a pyramid, and to this pyramid there must +be an apex. There must be one highest Idea, which is supreme over all +the others. This Idea will be the one final and absolutely real Being +which is the ultimate ground, of itself, of the other Ideas, and of +the entire universe. This Idea is, Plato tells us, the Idea of the +Good. We have seen that the world of Ideas is many, and we now see +that it is one. For it is one single system culminating in one supreme +Idea, which is the highest expression of its unity. Moreover, each +separate Idea is, in the same way, a many in one. It is one in regard +to itself. That is to say, if we ignore its relations to other Ideas, +it is, in itself, single. But as it has also many relations to other +Ideas, it is, in this way, a multiplicity. + +Every Idea is likewise a Being which contains not-being. For each Idea +combines with some Ideas and not with others. Thus the Idea of +corporeal body combines both with the Idea of rest and that of motion. +{199} But the Ideas of rest and motion will not combine with each +other. The Idea of rest, therefore, is Being in regard to itself, +not-being in regard to the Idea of motion, for the being of rest is +the not-being of motion. All Ideas are Being in regard to themselves, +and not-being in regard to all those other Ideas with which they do +not combine. + +In this way there arises a science of Ideas which is called dialectic. +This word is sometimes used as identical with the phrase, "theory of +Ideas." But it is also used, in a narrower sense, to mean the science +which has to do with the knowledge of which Ideas will combine and +which not. Dialectic is the correct joining and disjoining of Ideas. +It is the knowledge of the relations of all the Ideas to each other. + +The attainment of this knowledge is, in Plato's opinion, the chief +problem of philosophy. To know all the Ideas, each in itself and in +its relations to other Ideas, is the supreme task. This involves two +steps. The first is the formation of concepts. Its object is to know +each Idea separately, and its procedure is by inductive reason to find +the common element in which the many individual objects participate. +The second step consists in the knowledge of the inter-relation of +Ideas, and involves the two processes of classification and division. +Classification and division both have for their object to arrange the +lower Ideas under the proper higher Ideas, but they do this in +opposite ways. One may begin with the lower Ideas, such as redness, +whiteness, etc., and range them under their higher Idea, that of +colour. This is classification. Or one may begin with the higher Idea, +colour, and divide it into the lower Ideas, red, white, {200} etc. +Classification proceeds from below upwards. Division proceeds from +above downwards. Most of the examples of division which Plato gives +are divisions by dichotomy. We may either divide colour straight away +into red, blue, white, etc.; or we may divide each class into two +sub-classes. Thus colour will be divided into red and not-red, not-red +into white and not-white, not-white into blue and not-blue, and so on. +This latter process is division by dichotomy, and Plato prefers it +because, though it is tedious, it is very exhaustive and systematic. + +Plato's actual performance of the supreme task of dialectic, the +classification and arrangement of all Ideas, is not great. He has made +no attempt to complete it. All he has done is to give us numerous +examples. And this is, in reality, all that can be expected, for the +number of Ideas is obviously infinite, and therefore the task of +arranging them cannot be completed. There is, however, one important +defect in the dialectic, which Plato ought certainly to have remedied. +The supreme Idea, he tells us, is the Good. This, as being the +ultimate reality, is the ground of all other Ideas. Plato ought +therefore to have derived all other Ideas from it, but this he has not +done. He merely asserts, in a more or less dogmatic way, that the Idea +of the Good is the highest, but does nothing to connect it with the +other Ideas. It is easy to see, however, why he made this assertion. +It is, in fact, a necessary logical outcome of his system. For every +Idea is perfection in its kind. All the Ideas have perfection in +common. And just as the one beauty is the Idea which presides over all +beautiful things, so the one perfection must be the supreme Idea which +presides {201} over all the perfect Ideas. The supreme Idea, +therefore, must be perfection itself, that is to say, the Idea of the +Good. On the other hand it might, with equal force, be argued that +since all the Ideas are substances, therefore the highest Idea is the +Idea of substance. All that can be said is that Plato has left these +matters in obscurity, and has merely asserted that the highest Idea is +the Good. + +Consideration of the Idea of the Good leads us naturally to enquire +how far Plato's system is teleological in character. A little +consideration will show that it is out and out teleological. We can +see this both by studying the many lower Ideas, and the one supreme +Idea. Each Idea is perfection of its kind. And each Idea is the ground +of the existence of the individual objects which come under it. Thus +the explanation of white objects is the perfect whiteness, of +beautiful objects the perfect beauty. Or we may take as our example +the Idea of the State which Plato describes in the "Republic." The +ordinary view is that Plato was describing a State which was the +invention of his own fancy, and is therefore to be regarded as +entirely unreal. This is completely to misunderstand Plato. So far was +he from thinking the ideal State unreal, that he regarded it, on the +contrary, as the only real State. All existent States, such as the +Athenian or the Spartan, are unreal in so far as they differ from the +ideal State. And moreover, this one reality, the ideal State, is the +ground of the existence of all actual States. They owe their existence +to its reality. Their existence can only be explained by it. Now since +the ideal State is not yet reached in fact, but is the perfect State +towards which all actual States tend, it is clear that we have here +{202} a teleological principle. The real explanation of the State is +not to be found in its beginnings in history, in an original contract, +or in biological necessities, but in its end, the final or perfect +State. Or, if we prefer to put it so; the true beginning is the end. +The end must be in the beginning, potentially and ideally, otherwise +it could never begin: It is the same with all other things. Man is +explained by the ideal man, the perfect man; white things by the +perfect whiteness, and so on. Everything is explained by its end, and +not by its beginning. Things are not explained by mechanical causes, +but by reasons. + +And the teleology of Plato culminates in the Idea of the Good. That +Idea is the final explanation of all other Ideas, and of the entire +universe. And to place the final ground of all things in perfection +itself means that the universe arises out of that perfect end towards +which all things move. + +Another matter which requires elucidation here is the place which the +conception of God holds in Plato's system. He frequently uses the word +God both in the singular and the plural, and seems to slip with +remarkable ease from the monotheistic to the polytheistic manner of +speaking. In addition to the many gods, we have frequent reference to +the one supreme Creator, controller, and ruler of the world, who is +further conceived as a Being providentially watching over the lives of +men. But in what relation does this supreme God stand to the Ideas, +and especially to the Idea of the Good? If God is separate from the +highest Idea, then, as Zeller points out, [Footnote 13] only three +relations are possible, all of which are {203} equally objectionable. +Firstly, God may be the cause or ground of the Idea of the Good. But +this destroys the substantiality of the Idea, and indeed, destroys +Plato's whole system. The very essence of his philosophy is that the +Idea is the ultimate reality, which is self-existent, and owes its +being to nothing else. But this theory makes it a mere creature of +God, dependent on Him for its existence. Secondly, God may owe His +being to the Idea. The Idea may be the ground of God's existence as it +is the ground of all else in the universe. But this theory does +violence to the idea of God, turning Him into a mere derivative +existence, and, in fact, into an appearance. Thirdly, God and the Idea +may be co-ordinate in the system as equally primordial independent +ultimate realities. But this means that Plato has given two mutually +inconsistent accounts of the ultimate reality, or, if not, that his +system is a hopeless dualism. As none of these theories can be +maintained, it must be supposed that God is identical with the Idea of +the Good, and we find certain expressions in the "Philebus" which seem +clearly to assert this. But in that case God is not a personal God at +all, since the Idea is not a person. The word God, if used in this +way, is merely a figurative term for the Idea. And this is the most +probable theory, if we reflect that there is in fact no room for a +personal God in a system which places all reality in the Idea, and +that to introduce such a conception threatens to break up the whole +system. Plato probably found it useful to take the popular conceptions +about the personality of God or the gods and use them, in mythical +fashion, to express his Ideas. Those parts of Plato which speak of +God, and the governance of God, {204} are to be interpreted on the +same principles as the other Platonic myths. + +[Footnote 13: _Plato and the Older Academy_, chap. vi.] + +Before closing our discussion of dialectic, it may be well to consider +what place it occupies in the life of man, and what importance is +attached to it. Here Plato's answer is emphatic. Dialectic is the +crown of knowledge, and knowledge is the crown of life. All other +spiritual activities have value only in so far as they lead up to the +knowledge of the Idea. All other subjects of intellectual study are +merely preparatory to the study of philosophy. The special sciences +have no value in themselves, but they have value inasmuch as their +definitions and classifications form a preparation for the knowledge +of Ideas. Mathematics is important because it is a stepping-stone from +the world of sense to the Ideas. Its objects, namely, numbers and +geometrical figures, resemble the Ideas in so far as they are +immutable, and they resemble sense-objects in so far as they are in +space or time. In the educational curriculum of Plato, philosophy +comes last. Not everyone may study it. And none may study it till he +has been through all the preparatory stages of education, which form a +rigorous discipline of the mind before it finally enters upon +dialectic. Thus all knowledge ends in dialectic, and that life has not +attained its end which falls short of philosophy. + +Perhaps the most striking illustration of the subordination of all +spiritual activities to philosophy is to be found in the doctrine of +Eros, or Love. The phrase "platonic love" is on the lips of many, but, +as a rule, something very different from Plato's own doctrine is +meant. According to him, love is always concerned with beauty, and his +teaching on the subject is expounded {205} chiefly in the "Symposium," +He believed that before birth the soul dwelt disembodied in the pure +contemplation of the world of Ideas. Sinking down into a body, +becoming immersed in the world of sense, it forgets the Ideas. The +sight of a beautiful object reminds it of that one Idea of beauty of +which the object is a copy. This accounts for the mystic rapture, the +emotion, the joy, with which we greet the sight of the beautiful. +Since Plato had expressly declared that there are Ideas of the ugly as +well as of the beautiful, that there are Ideas, for example, of hair, +filth, and dirt, and since these Ideas are just as divine and perfect +as the Idea of the beautiful, we ought, on this theory, to greet the +ugly, the filthy, and the nauseating, with a ravishment of joy similar +to that which we experience in the presence of beauty. Why this is not +the case Plato omitted to explain. However, having learned to love the +one beautiful object, the soul passes on to the love of others. Then +it perceives that it is the same beauty which reveals itself in all +these. It passes from the love of beautiful forms to the love of +beautiful souls, and from that to the love of beautiful sciences. It +ceases to be attached to the many objects, as such, that is to say, to +the sensuous envelopes of the Idea of beauty. Love passes into the +knowledge of the Idea of beauty itself, and from this to the knowledge +of the world of Ideas in general. It passes in fact into philosophy. + +In this development there are two points which we cannot fail to note. +In the first place, emotional love is explained as being simply the +blind groping of reason towards the Idea. It is reason which has not +yet recognized itself as such. It appears, therefore, in the {206} +guise of feeling. Secondly, the later progress of the soul's love is +simply the gradual recognition of itself by reason. When the soul +perceives that the beauty in all objects is the same, that it is the +common element amid the many, this is nothing but the process of +inductive reasoning. And this development ends at last in the complete +rational cognition of the world of Ideas, in a word, philosophy. Love +is but an instinctive reason. The animal has no feeling of the +beautiful, just because it has no reason. Love of the beautiful is +founded upon the nature of man, not as a percipient or feeling being, +but as a rational being. And it must end in the complete recognition +of reason by itself, not in the feeling and intuition, but in the +rational comprehension, of the Idea. + +One can imagine what Plato's answer would be to the sort of vulgarians +and philistines who want to know what the use of philosophy is, and in +what way it is "practical." To answer such a question is for Plato +impossible, because the question itself is illegitimate. For a thing +to have a use involves that it is a means towards an end. Fire has +use, because it may be made a means towards the cooking of food. Money +is useful, because it is a means to the acquisition of goods. That +which is an end in itself, and not a means towards any further end, +cannot possibly have any use. To suggest that philosophy ought to have +use is, therefore, to put the cart before the horse, to invert the +whole scale of values. It suggests that philosophy is a means towards +some further end, instead of being the absolute end to which all other +things are means. Philosophy is not _for_ anything. Everything else is +_for_ it. And, if this seems an exaggerated or unpractical view, we may +at least {207} remember that this is the view taken by the religious +consciousness of man. Religion makes the supreme end of life the +knowledge of, and communion with, God. God is for religion what the +Idea is for philosophy. God is a figurative name for the Idea. To +place the end of life in the knowledge of the Absolute, or the Idea, +is therefore the teaching both of philosophy and religion. + + + +4. Physics, or the Theory of Existence. + +Dialectic is the theory of reality, physics the theory of existence, +dialectic of that which lies behind things as their ground, physics of +the things which are thus grounded. That is to say, physics is +concerned with phenomena and appearances, things which exist in space +and time, as opposed to the timeless and non-spatial Ideas. Things of +this kind are both corporeal and incorporeal. Physics falls therefore +into two parts, the doctrine of the outward corporeality, the world, +with its incorporeal essence, the World-Soul, and the doctrine of the +incorporeal soul of man. + + + +_(a) The Doctrine of the World_. + +If, in the dialectic, Plato has given an account of the nature of the +first principle and ground of all things, the problem now arises of +explaining how the actual universe of things arises out of that +ground, how it is derived from the first principle. In other words, +the Ideas being the absolute reality, how does the world of sense, +and, in general, the existent universe, arise out of the Ideas? Faced +with this problem, the system of Plato broke down. The things of sense +are, we are told, "copies" or "imitations" of the Ideas. {208} They +"participate" in the Ideas. So far, so good. But why should there be +any copies of the Ideas? Why should the Ideas give rise to copies of +themselves, and how is the production of these copies effected? To +these questions Plato has no answer, and he therefore has recourse to +the use of myths. Poetic description here takes the place of +scientific explanation. + +This poetic description of the origin of the world is to be found in +the "Timaeus." We have seen that the Ideas are absolute Being, and +that things of sense are half real and half unreal. They are partly +real because they participate in Being. They are partly unreal because +they participate in not-being. There must be, therefore, a principle +of absolute not-being. This, in Plato's opinion, is matter. Things of +sense are copies of the Ideas fashioned out of, or stamped upon, +matter. But Plato does not understand by matter what we, in modern +times, understand by it. Matter, in our sense, is always some +particular kind of matter. It is brass, or wood, or iron, or stone. It +is matter which has determinate character and quality. But the +possession of specific character means that it is matter with the copy +of Ideas already stamped upon it. Since iron exists in great +quantities in the world, and there is a common element in all the +various pieces of iron, by virtue of which all are classed together, +there must be a concept of iron. There is, therefore, an Idea of iron +in the world of Ideas. And the iron which we find in the earth must be +matter which is already formed into a copy of this Idea. It +participates in the Idea of iron. The same remarks apply to any other +particular kind of matter. In fact, all form, all the specific +characters and {209} features of matter, as we know it, are due to the +operation of the Ideas. Hence matter as it is in itself, before the +image of the Ideas is stamped upon it, must be absolutely without +quality, featureless, formless. But to be absolutely without any +quality is to be simply nothing at all. This matter is, therefore, as +Plato says, absolute not-being. Zeller conjectures, probably rightly, +that what Plato meant was simply empty space. [Footnote 14] Empty +space is an existent not-being, and it is totally indeterminate and +formless. It accords with this view that Plato adopted the Pythagorean +tenet that the differential qualities of material substances are due +to their smallest particles being regular geometrical figures limited +out of the unlimited, that is, out of space. Thus earth is composed of +cubes. That is to say, empty space when bound into cubes (the limiting +of the unlimited) becomes earth. The smallest particles of fire are +_tetrahedra_, of air _octahedra_, of water _icosahedra_. + +[Footnote 14: _Plato and the Older Academy_, chap. vii. ] + +We have, then, on the one hand, the world of Ideas, on the other, +matter, an absolutely formless, chaotic, mass. By impressing the +images of the Ideas upon this mass, "things" arise, that is to say, +the specific objects of sense. They thus participate both in Being and +in not-being. But how is this mixing of Being and not-being brought +about? How do the Ideas come to have their images stamped upon matter? +It is at this point that we enter upon the region of myth. Up to this +point Plato is certainly to be taken literally. He of course believed +in the reality of the world of Ideas, and he no doubt also believed in +his principle of matter. And he thought that the objects of sense are +to be {210} explained as copies of the Ideas impressed upon matter. +But now, with the problem how this copying is brought about, Plato +leaves the method of scientific explanation behind. If the Ideas are +the absolute ground of all things, then the copying process must be +done by the Ideas themselves. They must themselves be made the +principles for the production of things. But this is, for Plato, +impossible. For production involves change. If the Ideas produce +things out of themselves, the Ideas must in the process undergo +change. But Plato has declared them to be absolutely unchangeable, and +to be thus immutable is to be sterile. Hence the Ideas have within +themselves no principle for the production of things, and the +scientific explanation of things by this means becomes impossible. +Hence there is nothing for it but to have recourse to myth. Plato can +only imagine that things are produced by a world-former, or designer, +who, like a human artist, fashions the plastic matter into images of +the Ideas. + +God, the Creator, the world-designer, finds beside him, on the one +hand, the Ideas, on the other, formless matter. First, he creates the +World-Soul. This is incorporeal, but occupies space. He spreads it out +like a huge net in empty space. He bisects it, and bends the two +halves into an inner and an outer circle, these circles being destined +to become the spheres of the planets and the stars respectively. He +takes matter and binds it into the four elements, and these elements +he builds into the empty framework of the World-Soul. When this is +done, the creation of the universe is complete. The rest of the +"Timaeus" is occupied with the details of Plato's ideas of astronomy +and physical {211} science. These are mostly worthless and tedious, +and we need not pursue them here. But we may mention that Plato, of +course, regarded the earth as the centre of the world. The stars, +which are divine beings, revolve around it. They necessarily move in +circles, because the circle is the perfect figure. The stars, being +divine, are governed solely by reason, and their movement must +therefore be circular, because a circular motion is the motion of +reason. + +The above account of the origin of the world is merely myth, and Plato +knows that it is myth. What he apparently did believe in, however, was +the existence of the World-Soul, and a few words upon this subject are +necessary. The soul, in Plato's system, is the mediator between the +world of Ideas and the world of sense. Like the former, it is +incorporeal and immortal. Like the latter, it occupies space. Plato +thought that there must be a soul in the world to account for the +rational behaviour of things, and to explain motion. The reason which +governs and directs the world dwells in the World-Soul. And the +World-Soul is the cause of motion in the outer universe, just as the +human soul is the cause of the motions of the human body. The cosmos +is a living being. + + + +_(b) The Doctrine of the Human Soul_. + +The human soul is similar in kind to the World-Soul. It is the cause +of the body's movements, and in it the human reason dwells. It has +affinities both with the world of Ideas and the world of sense. It is +divided into two parts, of which one part is again subdivided into +two. The highest part is reason, which is {212} that part of the soul +which apprehends the Ideas. It is simple and indivisible. Now all +destruction of things means the sundering of their parts. But the +rational part of the soul, being simple, has no parts. Therefore it is +indestructible and immortal. The irrational part of the soul is +mortal, and is subdivided into a noble and an ignoble half. To the +noble half belong courage, love of honour, and in general the nobler +emotions. To the ignoble portion belong the sensuous appetites. The +noble half has a certain affinity with reason, in that it has an +instinct for what is noble and great. Nevertheless, this is mere +instinct, and is not rational. The seat of reason is the head, of the +noble half of the lower soul, the breast, of the ignoble half, the +lower part of the body. Man alone possesses the three parts of the +soul. Animals possess the two lower parts, plants only the appetitive +soul. What distinguishes man from the lower orders of creation is thus +that he alone possesses reason. + +Plato connects the doctrine of the immortality of the rational soul +with the theory of Ideas by means of the doctrines of recollection and +transmigration. According to the former doctrine, all knowledge is +recollection of what was experienced by the soul in its disembodied +state before birth. It must carefully be noted, however, that the word +knowledge is here used in the special and restricted sense of Plato. +Not everything that we should call knowledge is recollection. The +sensuous element in my perception that this paper is white is not +recollection, since, as being merely sensuous, it is not, in Plato's +opinion, to be called knowledge. Here, as elsewhere, he confines the +term {213} to rational knowledge, that is to say, knowledge of the +Ideas, though it is doubtful whether he is wholly consistent with +himself in the matter, especially in regard to mathematical knowledge. +It must also be noted that this doctrine has nothing in common with +the Oriental doctrine of the memory of our past lives upon the earth. +An example of this is found in the Buddhist Jàtakas, where the Buddha +relates from memory many things that happened to him in the body in +his previous births. Plato's doctrine is quite different. It refers +only to recollection of the experiences of the soul in its disembodied +state in the world of Ideas. + +The reasons assigned by Plato for believing in this doctrine may be +reduced to two. Firstly, knowledge of the Ideas cannot be derived from +the senses, because the Idea is never pure in its sensuous +manifestation, but always mixed. The one beauty, for example, is only +found in experience mixed with the ugly. The second reason is more +striking. And, if the doctrine of recollection is itself fantastic, +this, the chief reason upon which Plato bases it, is interesting and +important. He pointed out that mathematical knowledge seems to be +innate in the mind. It is neither imparted to us by instruction, nor +is it gained from experience. Plato, in fact, came within an ace of +discovering what, in modern times, is called the distinction between +necessary and contingent knowledge, a distinction which was made by +Kant the basis of most far-reaching developments in philosophy. The +character of necessity attaches to rational knowledge, but not to +sensuous. To explain this distinction, we may take as our example of +rational knowledge such a proposition as that two {214} and two make +four. This does not mean merely that, as a matter of fact, every two +objects and every other two objects, with which we have tried the +experiment, make four. It is not merely a fact, it is a necessity. It +is not merely that two and two do make four, but that they must make +four. It is inconceivable that they should not. We have not got to go +and see whether, in each new case, they do so. We know beforehand that +they will, because they must. It is quite otherwise with such a +proposition as, "gold is yellow." There is no necessity about it. It +is merely a fact. For all anybody can see to the contrary it might +just as well be blue. There is nothing inconceivable about its being +blue, as there is about two and two making five. Of course, that gold +is yellow is no doubt a mechanical necessity, that is, it is +determined by causes, and in that sense could not be otherwise. But it +is not a logical necessity. It is not a logical contradiction to +imagine blue gold, as it would be to imagine two and two making five. +Any other proposition in mathematics possesses the same necessity. +That the angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal is a +necessary proposition. It could not be otherwise without +contradiction. Its opposite is unthinkable. But that Socrates is +standing is not a necessary truth. He might just as well be sitting. + +Since a mathematical proposition is necessarily true, its truth is +known without verification by experience. Having proved the +proposition about the isosceles triangle, we do not go about measuring +the angles of triangular objects to make sure there is no exception. +We know it without any experience at all. And if we {215} were +sufficiently clever, we might even evolve mathematical knowledge out +of the resources of our own minds, without its being told us by any +teacher. That Caesar was stabbed by Brutus is a fact which no amount +of cleverness could ever reveal to me. This information I can only get +by being told it. But that the base angles of an isosceles triangle +are equal I could discover by merely thinking about it. The +proposition about Brutus is not a necessary proposition. It might be +otherwise. And therefore I must be told whether it is true or not. But +the proposition about the isosceles triangle is necessary, and +therefore I can see that it must be true without being told. + +Now Plato did not clearly make this distinction between necessary and +non-necessary knowledge. But what he did perceive was that +mathematical knowledge can be known without either experience or +instruction. Kant afterwards gave a less fantastic explanation of +these facts. But Plato concluded that such knowledge must be already +present in the mind at birth. It must be recollected from a previous +existence. It might be answered that, though this kind of knowledge is +not gained from the experience of the senses, it may be gained from +teaching. It may be imparted by another mind. We have to teach +children mathematics, which we should not have to do if it were +already in their minds. But Plato's answer is that when the teacher +explains a geometrical theorem to the child, directly the child +understands what is meant, he assents. He sees it for himself. But if +the teacher explains that Lisbon is on the Tagus, the child cannot see +that this is true for himself. He must either believe the word {216} +of the teacher, or he must go and see. In this case, therefore, the +knowledge is really imparted from one mind to another. The teacher +transfers to the child knowledge which the child does not possess. But +the mathematical theorem is already present in the child's mind, and +the process of teaching merely consists in making him see what he +already potentially knows. He has only to look into his own mind to +find it. This is what we mean by saying that the child sees it for +himself. + +In the "Meno" Plato attempts to give an experimental proof of the +doctrine of recollection. Socrates is represented as talking to a +slave-boy, who admittedly has no education in mathematics, and barely +knows what a square is. By dint of skilful questioning Socrates +elicits from the boy's mind a theorem about the properties of the +square. The point of the argument is that Socrates tells him nothing +at all. He imparts no information. He only asks questions. The boy's +knowledge of the theorem, therefore, is not due to the teaching of +Socrates, nor is it due to experience. It can only be recollection. +But if knowledge is recollection, it may be asked, why is it that we +do not remember at once? Why is the tedious process of education in +mathematics necessary? Because the soul, descending from the world of +Ideas into the body, has its knowledge dulled and almost blotted out +by its immersion in the sensuous. It has forgotten, or it has only the +dimmest and faintest recollection. It has to be reminded, and it takes +a great effort to bring the half-lost ideas back to the mind. This +process of being reminded is education. + +With this, of course, is connected the doctrine of {217} +transmigration, which Plato took, no doubt, from the Pythagoreans. +Most of the details of Plato's doctrine of transmigration are mere +myth. Plato does not mean them seriously, as is shown by the fact that +he gives quite different and inconsistent accounts of these details in +different dialogues. What, in all probability, he did believe, +however, may be summarized as follows. The soul is pre-existent as +well as immortal. Its natural home is the world of Ideas, where at +first it existed, without a body, in the pure and blissful +contemplation of Ideas. But because it has affinities with the world +of sense, it sinks down into a body. After death, if a man has lived a +good life, and especially if he has cultivated the knowledge of Ideas, +philosophy, the soul returns to its blissful abode in the world of +Ideas, till, after a long period it again returns to earth in a body. +Those who do evil suffer after death severe penalties, and are then +reincarnated in the body of some being lower than themselves. A man +may become a woman. Men may even, if their lives have been utterly +sensual, pass into the bodies of animals. + + + +5. Ethics + +_(a) The Ethics of the Individual_ + +Just as Plato's theory of knowledge begins with a negative portion, +designed to refute false theories of what truth is, so does his theory +of morals begin with a negative portion, intended to refute false +theories of what virtue is. These two negative departments of Plato's +philosophy correspond in every way. As he was then engaged in showing +that knowledge is not perception, as Protagoras thought, so he now +urges that {218} virtue is not the same as pleasure. And as knowledge +is not mere right opinion, neither is virtue mere right action. The +propositions that knowledge is perception, and that virtue is +pleasure, are indeed only the same principle applied to different +spheres of thought. For the Sophists whatever appeared true to the +individual was true for that individual. This is the same as saying +that knowledge is perception. For the Sophists, again, whatever +appeared right to the individual was right for that individual. This +is the same as saying that it is right for each man to do whatever he +pleases. Virtue is defined as the pleasure of the individual. This +consequence of the Sophistic principles was drawn both by many of the +Sophists themselves, and later by the Cyrenaics. + +As these two propositions are thus in fact only one principle, what +Plato has said in refutation of the former provides also his +refutation of the latter. The theory that virtue is pleasure has the +same destructive influence upon morals as the theory that knowledge is +perception had upon truth. We may thus shortly summarize Plato's +arguments. + +(1) As the Sophistic theory of truth destroys the objectivity of +truth, so the doctrine that virtue is the pleasure of the individual +destroys the objectivity of the good. Nothing is good in itself. +Things are only good for me or for you. There results an absolute +moral relativity, in which the idea of an objective standard of +goodness totally disappears. + +(2) This theory destroys the distinction between good and evil. Since +the good is whatever the individual pleases, and since the pleasure of +one individual is the {219} displeasure of another, the same thing is +both good and evil at the same time, good for one person and evil for +another. Good and evil are therefore not distinct. They are the same. + +(3) Pleasure is the satisfaction of our desires. Desires are merely +feelings. This theory, therefore, founds morality upon feeling. But an +objective morality cannot be founded upon what is peculiar to +individuals. If the moral code is to be a law binding upon all men, it +can only be founded upon that which is common to all men, the +universal reason. + +(4) The end of moral activity must fall within, and not outside, the +moral act itself. Morality must have an intrinsic, not a merely +extrinsic, value. We must not do right for the sake of something else. +We must do right because it is right, and thus make virtue an end in +itself. But the Sophistic theory places the end of morality outside +morality. We are to do right, not for its own sake, but for the sake +of pleasure. Morality is thus not an end in itself, but merely a means +towards a further end. + +Virtue, therefore, is not pleasure, any more than knowledge is +perception. Likewise, just as knowledge is not right opinion, so +virtue is not right action. Right opinion may be held upon wrong +grounds, and right action may be performed on wrong grounds. For true +virtue we must not only know what is right, but why it is right. True +virtue is thus right action proceeding from a rational comprehension +of true values. Hence there arises in Plato's philosophy a distinction +between philosophic virtue and customary virtue. Philosophic virtue is +founded upon reason, and understands the {220} principle on which it +acts. It is, in fact, action governed by principles. Customary virtue +is right action proceeding from any other grounds, such as custom, +habit, tradition, good impulses, benevolent feelings, instinctive +goodness. Men do right merely because other people do it, because it +is customary, and they do it without understanding the reasons for it. +This is the virtue of the ordinary honest citizen, the "respectable" +person. It is the virtue of bees and ants, who act as if rationally, +but without any understanding of what they are doing. And Plato +observes--no doubt with an intentional spice of humour--that such +people may in the next life find themselves born as bees and ants. +Plato denies philosophic virtue not only to the masses of men, but +even to the best statesmen and politicians of Greece. + +As true virtue is virtue which knows at what it is aiming, the +knowledge of the nature of the highest aim becomes the chief question +of ethics. What is the end of moral activity? Now we have just seen +that that end must fall within, and not outside, the moral act. The +end of goodness is the good. What, then, is the good? What is the +supreme good, the _summum bonum_? + +A note of warning is necessary before we enter upon the details of +this problem. Plato frequently speaks of all moral activity aiming at, +and ending in, happiness. With modern phrases ringing in our ears, we +might easily suppose this to mean that Plato is a utilitarian. The +utilitarianism of Bentham and Mill is distinguished by the fact that +it places the end of morality in happiness. Yet Plato was not a +utilitarian, and would unhesitatingly have condemned the theory of +Mill. He {221} would have found it identical in principle with the +Sophistic doctrine that pleasure is the end of virtue. The only +difference is that, whereas the Sophists identified virtue with the +pleasure of the individual, Mill makes it the pleasure of the +community. That act is right which leads to "the greatest happiness of +the greatest number." In practice, of course, this makes a tremendous +difference. But the principle is equally objectionable because, like +the Sophistic theory, it founds morality upon mere feeling, instead of +upon reason, and because it places the end of morality outside +morality itself. Yet the formula of Mill, that the end of morals is +happiness, seems the same as Plato's formula. What is the difference? + +The fact is that what Mill calls happiness Plato would have called +pleasure. Pleasure is the satisfaction of one's desires, whether they +are noble or ignoble. Then what is happiness? It can only be defined +as the general harmonious well-being of life. Only that man is happy +whose soul is in the state it ought to be in, only in fact the just, +the good, and the moral man. Happiness has nothing to do with +pleasure. If you could conceive an absolutely just and upright man, +who was yet weighed down with every possible misery and disaster, in +whose life pleasure had no part, such a man would still be absolutely +happy. Happiness is, therefore, in Plato, merely another name for the +_summum bonum_. In saying that the _summum bonum_ is happiness, Plato +is not telling us anything about it. He is merely giving it a new +name. And we are still left to enquire: what is the _summum bonum_? +what is happiness? + +Plato's answer, as indeed his whole ethics, is but {222} an +application of the theory of Ideas. But here we can distinguish two +different and, to some extent, inconsistent strains of thought, which +exist side by side in Plato, and perpetually struggle for the mastery. +Both views depend upon the theory of Ideas. In the first place, the +Idea, in Plato's philosophy, is the sole reality. The object of sense +is unreal, and merely clogs and dims the soul's vision of the Ideas. +Matter is that which obstructs the free activity of the Idea. +Sense-objects hide the Idea from our view. Therefore the world of +sense is wholly evil. True virtue must consist in flying from the +world of sense, in retiring from the affairs of the world, and even +from the beauty of the senses, into the calm of philosophic +contemplation. And if this were all, philosophy, the knowledge of the +Ideas, would be the sole constituent of the _summum bonum_. But it is +possible to regard sense-objects in another light. They are, after +all, copies of the Ideas. They are therefore a manifestation and +revelation of the ideal world. Hence Plato is compelled by this +thought to allow a certain value to the world of sense, its affairs, +and its beauty. + +The result of this inconsistency is, at any rate, that Plato remains +broad and human. He does not, on the one hand, preach a purely selfish +retirement into philosophy, or a narrow ascetic ideal. He does not, on +the other hand, adopt a low utilitarian view of life, allowing value +only to that which is "practical." He remains true to the Greek ideal +of life as a harmonious play of all the faculties, in which no one +part of man is over-developed at the expense of the others. + +The result is that Plato's _summum bonum_ is not a single {223} end. +It is a compound consisting of four parts. First, and chief of all, is +the knowledge of the Ideas as they are in themselves, philosophy. +Secondly, the contemplation of the Ideas as they reveal themselves in +the world of sense, the love and appreciation of all that is +beautiful, ordered, and harmonious. Thirdly, the cultivation of the +special sciences and arts. And fourthly, indulgence in pure, refined, +and innocent pleasures of the senses, excluding, of course, whatever +is base and evil. + +Plato had also a specific doctrine of virtue. As already stated, he +distinguished between philosophic and customary virtue, and attached +absolute value only to the former. He does not, however, deny a +relative value to customary virtue, inasmuch as it is a means towards +true virtue. Plato saw that man cannot rise at one bound to the +pinnacles of rational virtue. He must needs pass through the +preparatory stage of customary virtue. In the man in whom reason is +not yet awakened, good habits and customs must be implanted, in order +that, when reason comes, it may find the ground ready prepared. + +Socrates had taught that virtue is one. And Plato in his earlier +writings adopted this view. But later on he came to see that every +faculty of man has its place and its function, and the due performance +of its function is a virtue. He did not, however, surrender the unity +of virtue altogether, but believed that its unity is compatible with +its plurality. There are four cardinal virtues. Three of these +correspond to the three parts of the soul, and the fourth is the unity +of the others. The virtue of reason is wisdom, of the noble half of +{224} the mortal soul courage, of the ignoble appetites, temperance or +self-control, in which the passions allow themselves to be governed by +reason. The fourth virtue, justice, arises from the others. Justice +means proportion and harmony, and accrues to the soul when all three +parts perform their functions and co-operate with each other. + +Following Zeller, we may add to this account of the virtues some of +Plato's views upon the details of life. And first, his opinion of +women and marriage. Here Plato does not rise above the level of +ordinary Greek morals. He has nothing specially original to say, but +reflects the opinions of his age. Women he regards as essentially +inferior to men. Moreover, the modern view of woman as the complement +of man, as possessing those special virtues of womanliness, which a +man lacks, is quite alien to Plato. The difference between men and +women is, in his view, not one of kind but only of degree. The only +specific difference between the sexes is the physical difference. +Spiritually they are quite the same, except that woman is inferior. +Hence Plato would not exclude women from the same education which man +receives. He would educate them in exactly the same way, but this +involves the imposition upon them of the same burdens. Even military +duties are not outside the sphere of women. + +His views of marriage flow from the same principle. Since woman is not +the complement of man, she is in no special sense fitted to be his +companion. Hence the ideal of spiritual companionship is absent from +Plato's view of marriage, the sole object of which, in his opinion, is +the propagation of children. The natural companion {225} of a man is +not a woman, but another man. The ideal of friendship, therefore, +takes the place of the spiritual ideal of marriage in Plato and, +indeed, among the ancients generally. + +Slavery is not denounced by Plato. He takes no trouble to justify it, +because he thinks it so obviously right that it needs no +justification. All that can be said to his credit is that he demands +humane and just, though firm and unsentimental, treatment of slaves. + +If in these respects Plato never transcends the Greek view of life, in +one matter at least he does so. The common view of his time was that +one ought to do good to one's friends and evil to one's enemies. This +Plato expressly repudiates. It can never be good, he thinks, to do +evil. One should rather do good to one's enemies, and so convert them +into friends. To return good for evil is no less a Platonic than a +Christian maxim. + + + +_(b) The State_. + + + +We pass from the ethics of individual life to the ethics of the +community. Plato's "Republic" is not an attempt to paint an imaginary +and unreal perfection. Its object is to found politics on the theory +of Ideas by depicting the Idea of the State. This State is, therefore, +not unreal, but the only real State, and its reality is the ground of +the existence of all actually existent States. + +We can trace here, too, the same two strains of thought as we found in +considering the ethics of the individual. On the one hand, since the +Idea alone is real, the existent world a mere illusion, the service of +the {226} State cannot be the ideal life for a rational being. +Complete retirement from the world into the sphere of Ideas is a far +nobler end, and the aims of the ordinary politician are, in +comparison, worthless baubles. Though only the philosopher is +competent to rule, yet he will not undertake the business of the +State, except under compulsion. In the political States, as they exist +in the world, the philosopher dwells with his body, but his soul is a +stranger, ignorant of their standards, unmoved by their ambitions. But +the opposite strain of thought is uppermost when we are told that it +is, after all, only in the State, only in his capacity as a citizen +and a social being that the individual can attain perfection. It is +only possible to reconcile these views in one way. If the ideals of +the State and of philosophy seem inconsistent, they must be brought +together by adapting the State to philosophy. We must have a State +founded upon philosophy and reason. Then only can the philosopher +dwell in it with his soul as well as with his body. Then only can +either the individual or the State reach perfection. To found the +State upon reason is the keynote of Plato's politics. + +And this gives us, too, the clue to the problem, what is the end of +the State? Why should there be a State at all? This does not mean, how +has the State arisen in history? We are not in search of the cause, +but of the reason, or end, of the State. The end of all life is +wisdom, virtue, and knowledge. The unassisted individual cannot reach +these ends. It is only by the State that they can be brought down from +heaven to earth. The end of the State is thus the virtue and happiness +(not pleasure) of the citizens. And since this is only possible {227} +through education, the State's primary function is educational. + +Since the State is to be founded upon reason, its laws must be +rational, and rational laws can only be made by rational men, +philosophers. The rulers must be philosophers. And since the +philosophers are few, we must have an aristocracy, not of birth, or of +wealth, but of intellect. The first operative principle of the State +is reason, the second is force. For it is not to be expected that the +irrational masses will willingly submit to rational laws. They must be +compelled. And since the work of the world must go on, the third +operative principle will be labour. Plato believed in the principle of +division of labour. Only he can excel at any occupation whose life is +devoted to it. Hence to the three operative principles correspond +three classes, castes, or professions. Reason is embodied in the +philosopher-rulers, force in the warriors, labour in the masses. This +division of the functions of the State is based upon the threefold +division of the soul. To the rational soul correspond the +philosopher-rulers, to the nobler half of the mortal soul the +warriors, to the appetitive soul the masses. Consequently the four +cardinal virtues belong to the State through the functioning of the +three classes. The virtue of the philosopher-rulers is wisdom, of the +warriors courage, of the masses, temperance. The harmonious +co-operation of all three produces justice. + +The rulers must not cease to be philosophers. Most of their time must +be spent in the study of the Ideas, philosophy, and only a portion in +the affairs of government. This is rendered possible by the system of +taking turns. Those who are not at any particular time {228} engaged +upon government retire into thought. The duty of the warriors is the +protection of the State, both against its external enemies, and +against the irrational impulses of the masses of its own citizens. +Normally, the latter will be their chief duty, the enforcement of the +decrees of the philosopher-rulers upon the masses. The masses will +engage themselves in trade, commerce, and agriculture. Both the other +ranks are prohibited from soiling their fingers with trade or +agriculture, upon which Plato, as a Greek aristocrat, looked down with +unbounded contempt. To what rank a citizen belongs is not determined +by birth, nor by individual choice. No individual can choose his own +profession. This will be determined by the officers of the State, who +will base their decision, however, upon the disposition and +capabilities of the individual. As they have also to decide the +numbers required for each rank, the magistrates also control the birth +of children. Parents cannot have children when they wish. The sanction +of the State is required. + +Since the end of the State is the virtue of the citizens, this +involves the destruction of whatever is evil and the encouragement of +whatever is good. To compass the destruction of evil, the children of +bad parents, or offspring not sanctioned by the State, will be +destroyed. Weak and sickly children will also not be allowed to live. +The positive encouragement of good involves the education of the +citizens by the State. Children from their earliest years do not +belong to their parents, but to the State. They are, therefore, at +once removed from the custody of their parents, and transferred to +State nurseries. Since the parents are to have no {229} property nor +interest in them, stringent means are adopted to see that, after +removal to the public nurseries, parents shall never again be able to +recognize their own children. All the details of the educational +curriculum are decreed by the State. Poetry, for example, is only +allowed in an emasculated form. Of the three kinds, epic, dramatic, +and lyric, the two former are banished from the State altogether, +because, in the base example of the immorality of the gods, which they +depict, they are powerful instruments in the propagation of evil. Only +lyric poetry is allowed, and that under strict supervision. The +subject, the form, even the metre, will be prescribed by the proper +authorities. Poetry is not recognized as valuable in itself, but only +as an educative moral influence. All poems, therefore, must strictly +inculcate virtue. + +It is, in Plato's opinion, intolerable that the individual should have +any interest apart from the interests of the State. Private interests +clash with those of the community, and must therefore be abolished. +The individual can possess no property either in material things, or +in the members of his family. This involves the community of goods, +community of wives, and the State ownership of children from their +birth. + + + +6. Views upon Art. + +In modern times aesthetics is recognized as a separate division of +philosophy. This was not the case in Plato's time, and yet his +opinions upon art cannot be fitted into either dialectic, physics, or +ethics. On the other hand, they cannot be ignored, and there is +nothing for it, therefore, but to treat them as a sort of appendix +{230} to his philosophy. Plato has no systematic theory of art, but +only scattered opinions, the most important of which will now be +mentioned. + +Most modern theories of art are based upon the view that art is an end +in itself, that the beautiful has, as such, absolute value, and not +value merely as a means to some further end. Upon such a view, art is +recognized as autonomous within its own sphere, governed only by its +own laws, judged only by its own standards. It cannot be judged, as +Tolstoi would have us believe, by the standard of morals. The +beautiful is not a means to the good. They may be indeed, ultimately +identical, but their identity cannot be recognized till their +difference has been admitted. Nor can one be subordinated to the +other. + +Now this view of art finds no place at all in Plato's thought. Art is, +for him, absolutely subservient both to morals and to philosophy. That +it subserves morality we see from the "Republic," where only that +poetry is allowed which inculcates virtue, and only because it +inculcates virtue. It is no sufficient justification of a poem to +plead that it is beautiful. Beautiful or not, if it does not subserve +the ends of morality, it is forbidden. Hence too the preposterous +notion that its exercise is to be controlled, even in details, by the +State. That this would mean the utter destruction of art either did +not occur to Plato, or if it did, did not deter him. If poetry cannot +exist under the yoke of morality, it must not be allowed to exist at +all. That art is merely a means to philosophy is even more evident. +The end of all education is the knowledge of the Ideas, and every +other subject, science, mathematics, art, is introduced into the {231} +educational curriculum solely as a preparation for that end. They have +no value in themselves. This is obvious from the teaching of the +"Republic," and it is even more evident in the "Symposium," where the +love of beautiful objects is made to end, not in itself, but in +philosophy. + +Plato's low estimate of art appears also in his theory of art as +imitation, and his contemptuous references to the nature of artistic +genius. As to the first, art is, to him, only imitation. It is the +copy of an object of the senses, and this again is only a copy of an +Idea. Hence a work of art is only a copy of a copy. Plato did not +recognise the creativeness of art. This view is certainly false. If +the aims of art were merely to imitate, a photograph would be the best +picture, since it is the most accurate copy of its object. What Plato +failed to see was that the artist does not copy his object, but +idealizes it. And this means that he does not see the object simply as +an object, but as the revelation of an Idea. He does not see the +phenomenon with the eyes of other men, but penetrates the sensuous +envelope and exhibits the Idea shining through the veils of sense. + +The second point is Plato's estimate of artistic genius. The artist +does not work by reason, but by inspiration. He does not, or he should +not, create the beautiful by means of rules, or by the application of +principles. It is only after the work of art is created that the +critic discovers rules in it. This does not mean that the discovery of +rules is false, but that the artist follows them unconsciously and +instinctively. If, for example, we believe Aristotle's dictum that the +object of tragedy {232} is to purge the heart by terror and pity, we +do not mean that the tragedian deliberately sets out to accomplish +that end. He does so without knowing or intending it. And this kind of +instinctive impulse we call the inspiration of the artist. Now Plato +fully recognizes these facts. But far from considering inspiration +something exalted, he thinks it, on the contrary, comparatively low +and contemptible, just because it is not rational. He calls it "divine +madness," divine indeed, because the artist produces beautiful things, +but madness because he himself does not know how or why he has done +it. The poet says very wise and beautiful things, but he does not know +why they are wise and beautiful. He merely feels, and does not +understand anything. His inspiration, therefore, is not on the level +of knowledge, but only of right opinion, which knows what is true, but +does not know why. + +Plato's views of art are thus not satisfactory. He is doubtless right +in placing inspiration below reason, and art below philosophy. They do +stand to each other in the relation of higher and lower. Not that such +a question can be decided by mere personal preferences. The usual +discussions whether art or philosophy is better, whether emotion or +reason is higher, are pointless and insipid, because the disputants +merely exalt their personal peculiarities. The man of artistic +temperament naturally prefers art, and says it is the highest. The +philosopher exalts philosophy above art, merely because it is his pet +hobby. This kind of discussion is futile. The matter must be decided +upon some principle. And the principle is quite clear. Both art and +philosophy have the same object, the {233} apprehension of the +Absolute, or the Idea. Philosophy apprehends it as it is in itself, +that is to say, as thought. Art apprehends it in a merely sensuous +form. Philosophy apprehends it in its truth, art in a comparatively +untrue way. Philosophy, therefore, is the higher. But while any true +philosophy of art must recognize this, it must not interpret it to +mean that art is to be made merely a means towards philosophy. It must +somehow find room for the recognition of the truth that art is an end +in itself, and it is in this that Plato fails. + +Aristotle, who had no spark of artistic capacity in his composition, +whose own writings are the severest of scientific treatises, did far +greater justice to art than Plato, and propounded a far more +satisfactory theory. Plato, himself a great artist, is utterly unjust +to art. Paradoxical as it may appear, the very reason why Aristotle +could be just to art was that he was no artist. Being solely a +philosopher, his own writings are scientific and inartistic. This +enables him to recognize art as a separate sphere, and therefore as +having its own rights. Plato could not keep the two separate. His +dialogues are both works of art and of philosophy. We have seen +already that this fact exercised an evil influence on his philosophy, +since it made him substitute poetic myths for scientific explanation. +Now we see that it exercised an equally evil influence on his views of +art. As a philosopher-artist his own practice is to use literary art +solely as a means towards the expression of philosophical ideas. And +this colours his whole view of art. It is, to him, nothing but a means +towards philosophy. And this is the tap-root of his entire view of the +subject. + + + +{234} + +7. Critical Estimate of Plato's Philosophy, + +If we are to form a just estimate of the value of Plato's philosophy, +we must not fritter away our criticism on the minor points, the +external details, the mere outworks of the system. We must get at the +heart and governing centre of it all. Amid the mass of thought which +Plato has developed, in all departments of speculation, that which +stands out as the central thesis of the whole system is the theory of +Ideas. All else is but deduction from this. His physics, his ethics, +his politics, his views upon art, all flow from this one governing +theory. It is here then that we must look, alike for the merits and +the defects of Plato's system. + +The theory of Ideas is not a something sprung suddenly upon the world +out of Plato's brain. It has its roots in the past. It is, as +Aristotle showed, the outcome of Eleatic, Heracleitean, and Socratic +determinations. Fundamentally, however, it grows out of the +distinction between sense and reason, which had been the common +property of Greek thinkers since the time of Parmenides. Parmenides +was the first to emphasize this distinction, and to teach that the +truth is to be found by reason, the world of sense being illusory. +Heracleitus, and even Democritus, were pronounced adherents of reason, +as against sense. The crisis came with the Sophists, who attempted to +obliterate the distinction altogether, and to find all knowledge in +sensation, thus calling forth the opposition of Socrates and Plato. As +against them Socrates pointed out that all knowledge is through +concepts, reason: and Plato added to this that the concept is not a +mere rule of thought but a metaphysical reality. This was the +substance of the theory of Ideas. {235} Every philosophy which makes a +systematic attempt to solve the riddle of the universe necessarily +begins with a theory of the nature of that absolute and ultimate +reality from which the universe is derived. This absolute reality we +will call simply the Absolute. Plato's theory is that the Absolute +consists of concepts. To say that the Absolute is reason, is thought, +is concepts, is the universal--these are merely four different +expressions of the same theory. Now this proposition, that the +Absolute is reason, is the fundamental thesis of all idealism. Since +Plato's time there have been several great idealistic systems of +philosophy. That the Absolute is reason is the central teaching of +them all. Plato, therefore, is the founder and initiator of all +idealism. It is this that gives him his great place in the history of +philosophy. That the Absolute is universal thought, this is what Plato +has contributed to the philosophical speculation of the world. This is +his crowning merit. + +But we must go somewhat more into details. We must see how far he +applied this principle successfully to the unravelment of the great +problems of philosophy. In lecturing upon the Eleatics, I said that +any successful philosophy must satisfy at least two conditions. It +must give such an account of the Absolute, that the Absolute is shown +as capable of explaining the world. It must be possible to deduce the +actual world of facts from the first principle. Secondly, not only +must this first principle explain the world; it must also explain +itself. It must be really ultimate, that is, we must not, in order to +understand it, have to refer to anything beyond and outside it. If we +have to do so then our ultimate is not an ultimate at all; our first +principle {236} is not first. That thing by means of which we explain +it must itself be the ultimate reality. And besides being ultimate, +our principle must be wholly intelligible. It must not be a mere +ultimate mystery; for to reduce the whole world to an ultimate mystery +is clearly not to explain it. Our first principle must, in a word, be +self-explanatory. Let us apply this two-fold test to Plato's system. +Let us see, firstly, whether the principle of Ideas explains the +world, and secondly, whether it explains itself. + +Does it explain the world? Is the actual existence of things, horses, +trees, stars, men, explained by it? What, in the first place, is the +relation between things and the Ideas? Things, says Plato, are +"copies," or "imitations" of the Ideas. They "participate" in the +Ideas. The Ideas are "archetypal" of things. Now all these phrases are +mere poetic metaphors. They do not really tell us how things are +related to Ideas. But suppose we ignore this, and assume, for the sake +of argument, that we understand what is meant by "participation" and +that things are, in the literal sense, "copies" of Ideas. The question +still remains, why do such copies exist, how do they arise? Now, if +this problem is to be solved, it is not enough to show, merely as a +fact, that, by some mysterious act, copies of Ideas come into +existence. There must be a reason for it, and this reason it is the +business of philosophy to explain. This reason, too, must exist in the +nature of the Ideas themselves, and not outside them. There must be, +in the very nature of the Ideas, some inner necessity which forces +them to reproduce themselves in things. This is what we {237} mean by +saying that the Ideas are a sufficient explanation of the existence of +things. But there is in Plato's Ideas no such necessity. The Ideas are +defined as being the sole reality. They have already all reality in +themselves. They are self-sufficient. They lack nothing. It is not +necessary for them further to realize their being in the concrete +manifestation of things, because they, as wholly real, need no +realization. Why, then, should they not remain for ever simply as they +are? Why should they go out of themselves into things? Why should they +not remain in themselves and by themselves? Why should they need to +reproduce themselves in objects? There are, we know, white objects in +the universe. Their existence, we are told, is explained by the Idea +of whiteness? But why should the Idea of whiteness produce white +things? It is itself the perfect whiteness. Why should it stir itself? +Why should it not remain by itself, apart, sterile, in the world of +Ideas, for all eternity? We cannot see. There is in the Ideas no +necessity urging them towards reproduction of themselves, and this +means that they possess no principle for the explanation of things. + +Nevertheless Plato has to make some attempt to meet the difficulty. +And as the Ideas are themselves impotent to produce things, Plato, +unable to solve the problem by reason, attempts to solve it by +violence. He drags in the notion of God from nowhere in particular, +and uses him as a _deus ex machina_. God fashions matter into the +images of Ideas. The very fact that Plato is forced to introduce a +creator shows that, in the Ideas themselves, there is no ground of +explanation. Things ought to be explained by the Ideas themselves, +{238} but as they are incapable of explaining anything, God is called +upon to do their work for them. Thus Plato, faced with the problem of +existence, practically deserts his theory of Ideas, and falls back +upon a crude theism. Or if we say that the term God is not to be taken +literally, and that Plato uses it merely as a figurative term for the +Idea of Good, then this saves Plato from the charge of introducing a +theism altogether inconsistent with his philosophy, but it brings us +back to the old difficulty. For in this case, the existence of things +must be explained by means of the Idea of the Good. But this Idea is +just as impotent as the other Ideas. + +In this connection, too, the dualism of Plato's system becomes +evident. If everything is grounded in the one ultimate reality, the +Ideas, then the entire universe must be clasped together in a system, +all parts of which flow out of the Ideas. If there exists in the +universe anything which stands aloof from this system, remains +isolated, and cannot be reduced to a manifestation of the Ideas, then +the philosophy has failed to explain the world, and we have before us +a confessed dualism. Now not only has Plato to drag in God for the +explanation of things, he has also to drag in matter. God takes matter +and forms it into copies of the Ideas. But what is this matter, and +where does it spring from? Clearly, if the sole reality is the Ideas, +matter, like all else, must be grounded in the Ideas. But this is not +the case in Plato's system. Matter appears as a principle quite +independent of the Ideas. As its being is self-derived and original, +it must be itself a substance. But this is just what Plato denies, +calling it absolute {239} not-being. Yet since it has not its source +in the Ideas or in anything outside itself, we must say that though +Plato calls it absolute not-being, it is in fact an absolute being. +The Ideas and matter stand face to face in Plato's system neither +derived from the other, equally ultimate co-ordinate, absolute +realities. This is sheer dualism. + +The source of this dualism is to be found in the absolute separation +which Plato makes between sense and reason. He places the world of +sense on one side, the world of reason on the other, as things +radically different and opposed. Hence it is impossible for him ever +to bridge the gulf that he has himself created between them. We may +expect the dualism of a philosophy which builds upon such premises to +break out at numerous points in the system. And so indeed it does. It +exhibits itself as the dualism of Ideas and matter, of the sense-world +and the thought-world, of body and soul. Not, of course, that it is +not quite right to recognize the distinction between sense and reason. +Any genuine philosophy must recognize that. And no doubt too it is +right to place truth and reality on the side of reason rather than +sense. But although sense and reason are distinct, they must also be +identical. They must be divergent streams flowing from one source. And +this means that a philosophy which considers the absolute reality to +be reason must exhibit sense as a lower form of reason. Because Plato +fails to see the identity of sense and reason, as well as their +difference, his philosophy becomes a continual fruitless effort to +overreach the dualism thus generated. + +Thus the answer to our first question, whether the theory of Ideas +explains the world of things, must be {240} answered in the negative. +Let us pass on to the second test. Is the principle of Ideas a +self-explanatory principle? Such a principle must be understood purely +out of itself. It must not be a principle, like that of the +materialist, which merely reduces the whole universe to an ultimate +mysterious fact. For even if it be shown that the reason of everything +is matter, it is still open to us to ask what the reason of matter is. +We cannot see any reason why matter should exist. It is a mere fact, +which dogmatically forces itself upon our consciousness without giving +any reason for itself. Our principle must be such that we cannot ask a +further reason of it. It must be its own reason, and so in itself +satisfy the demand for a final explanation. Now there is only one such +principle in the world, namely, reason itself. You can ask the reason +of everything else in the world. You can ask the reason of the sun, +the moon, stars, the soul, God, or the devil. But you cannot ask the +reason of reason, because reason is its own reason. Let us put the +same thought in another way. When we demand the explanation of +anything, what do we mean by explanation? What is it we want? Do we +not mean that the thing appears to us irrational, and we want it shown +that it is rational? When this is done, we say it is explained. Think, +for example, of what is called the problem of evil. People often talk +of it as the problem of the "origin of evil," as if what we want to +know is, how evil began. But even if we knew this, it would not +explain anything. Suppose that evil began because someone ate an +apple. Does this make the matter any clearer? Do we feel that all our +difficulties about the existence of evil are solved? No. This is {241} +not what we want to know. The difficulty is that evil appears to us +something irrational. The problem can only be solved by showing us +that somehow, in spite of appearances, it is rational that evil should +exist. Show us this, and evil is explained. Explanation of a thing, +then, means showing that the thing is rational. Now we can ask that +everything else in the world should be shown to be rational. But we +cannot demand that the philosopher shall show that reason is rational. +This is absurd. Reason is what is already absolutely rational. It is +what explains itself. It is its own reason. It is a self-explanatory +principle. This, then, must be the principle of which we are in +search. The Absolute, we said, must be a self-explanatory principle, +and there is only one such, namely, reason. The Absolute, therefore, +is reason. + +It was the greatness and glory of Plato to have seen this, and thereby +to have become the founder of all true philosophy. For to say that the +Absolute is concepts is the same as saying it is reason. It might +seem, then, that Plato has satisfied the second canon of criticism. He +takes as first principle a self-explanatory reality. But we cannot +quite so quickly jump to this conclusion. After all, the mere word +reason is not a key which will unlock to us the doors of the universe. +Something more is necessary than the mere word. We must, in fact, be +told what reason is. Now there are two senses in which we might ask +the question, what reason is, one of which is legitimate, the other +illegitimate. It is illegitimate to ask what reason is, in the sense +of asking that it shall be explained to us in terms of something else, +which is not reason. This would be {242} to give up our belief that +reason is its own reason. It would be to seek the reason of reason in +something which is not reason. It would be to admit that reason, in +itself, is not rational. And this is absurd. But it is legitimate to +ask, what reason is, meaning thereby, what is the _content_ of reason. +The content of reason, we have seen, is concepts. But what concepts? +How are we to know whether any particular concept is part of the +system of reason or not? Only, it is evident, by ascertaining whether +it is a rational concept. If a concept is wholly rational, then it is +a part of reason. If not, not. What we need, then, is a detailed +account of all the concepts which reason contains, and a proof that +each of these concepts is really rational. It is obvious that only in +this way can we make a satisfactory beginning in philosophy. Before we +can show that reason explains, that is, rationalizes the world, we +must surely first show that reason itself is rational, or rather, to +be more accurate, that _our conception_ of reason is rational. There +must not be any mere inexplicable facts, any mysteries, any dark +places, in our notion of reason. It must be penetrated through and +through by the light of reason. It must be absolutely transparent, +crystalline. How can we hope to explain the world, if our very first +principle itself contains irrationalities? + +Each concept then must prove itself rational. And this means that it +must be a necessary concept. A necessary proposition, we saw, is one, +such as that two and two equal four, the opposite of which is +unthinkable. So for Plato's Ideas to be really necessary it ought to +be logically impossible for us to deny their {243} reality. It ought +to be impossible to think the world at all without these concepts. To +attempt to deny them ought to be shown to be self-contradictory. They +ought to be so necessarily involved in reason that thought without +them becomes impossible. Clearly this is the same as saying that the +Ideas must not be mere ultimate inexplicable facts. Of such a fact we +assert merely that it is so, but we cannot see any reason for it. To +see a reason for it is the same as seeing its necessity, seeing not +merely that it is so, but that it must be so. + +Now Plato's Ideas are not of this necessary kind. There is, we are +told, an Idea of whiteness. But why should there be such an Idea? It +is a mere fact. It is not a necessity. We can think the world quite +well without the Idea of whiteness. The world, so far as we can see, +could get on perfectly well without either white objects or the Idea +of whiteness. To deny its reality leads to no self-contradictions. Put +it in another way. There are certainly white objects in the world. We +demand that these, among other things, be explained. Plato tells us, +by way of explanation, that there are white objects because there is +an Idea of whiteness. But in that case why is there an Idea of +whiteness? We cannot see. There is no reason. There is no necessity in +this. The same thing applies to all the other Ideas. They are not +rational concepts. They are not a part of the system of reason. + +But at this point, perhaps, a glimmer of hope dawns upon us. We ask +the reason for these Ideas. Has not Plato asserted that the ultimate +reason and ground of all the lower Ideas will be found in the supreme +Idea of {244} the Good? Now if this is so, it means that the lower +Ideas must find their necessity in the highest Idea. If we could see +that the Idea of the Good necessarily involves the other Ideas, then +these other Ideas would be really explained. In other words, we ought +to be able to deduce all the other Ideas from this one Idea. It ought +to be possible to show that, granted the Idea of the Good, all the +other Ideas necessarily follow, that to assume the Good and deny the +other Ideas would be self-contradictory and unthinkable. There are +examples in Plato of the kind of deduction we require. For example, in +the "Parmenides" he showed that the Idea of the one necessarily +involves the Idea of the many, and vice versa. You cannot think the +one without also thinking the many. This means that the many is +deduced from the one, and the one from the many. Just in the same way, +we ought to be able to deduce the Idea of whiteness from the Idea of +the Good. But this is clearly not possible. You may analyse the Good +as long as you like, you may turn it in every conceivable direction, +but you cannot get whiteness out of it. The two Ideas do not involve +each other. They are thinkable apart. It is quite possible to think +the Good without thinking whiteness. And it is the same with all the +other Ideas. None of them can be deduced from the Good. + +And the reason of this is very obvious. Just as the lower Ideas +contain only what is common among the things of a class, and exclude +their differences, so the higher Ideas include what is common to the +Ideas that come under them, but exclude what is not common. For +example, the Idea of colour contains what white, blue, red, and green, +have in common. But all colours {245} have not whiteness in common. +Green, for example, is not white. Hence the Idea of colour excludes +the Idea of whiteness, and it likewise excludes all the Ideas of the +other particular colours. So too the highest Idea of all contains only +what all the Ideas agree in, but all the rest falls outside it. Thus +the Idea of whiteness is perfect in its kind. And as all Ideas are +likewise perfect, the highest Idea is that in which they all agree, +namely, perfection itself. But this means that the perfection of the +Idea of whiteness is contained in the supreme Idea, but its specific +character in which it differs from other Ideas is excluded. Its +specific character is just its whiteness. Thus the perfection of +whiteness is contained in the Good, but its whiteness is not. +Consequently it is impossible to deduce whiteness from the Good, +because the Good does not contain whiteness. You cannot get out of it +what is not in it. When Plato deduced the many from the one, he did so +only by showing that the One contains the many. He cannot deduce +whiteness from goodness, because goodness does not contain whiteness. + +The lower Ideas thus have not the character of necessity. They are +mere facts. And the hope that we shall find their necessity in the +supreme Idea fails. But suppose we waive this. Suppose we grant that +there must be an Idea of whiteness, because there is an Idea of the +Good. Then why is there an Idea of the Good? What is the necessity of +that? We cannot see any necessity in it. What we said of the other +Ideas applies with equal force to the highest Idea. The Good may be a +necessary Idea, but Plato has not shown it. + +Thus, though Plato named reason as the Absolute, {246} and though +reason is a self-explanatory principle, his account of the detailed +content of reason is so unsatisfactory that none of the concepts which +he includes in it are really shown to be rational. His philosophy +breaks down upon the second test as it did upon the first. He has +neither explained the world from the Ideas, nor has he made the Ideas +explain themselves. + +There is one other defect in Plato's system which is of capital +importance. There runs throughout it a confusion between the notions +of reality and existence. To distinguish between existence and reality +is an essential feature of all idealism. Even if we go back to the dim +idealism of the Eleatics, we shall see this. Zeno, we saw, denied +motion, multiplicity, and the world of sense. But he did not deny the +existence of the world. That is an impossibility. Even if the world is +delusion, the delusion exists. What he denied was the reality of +existence. But if reality is not existence, what is it? It is Being, +replied the Eleatics. But Being does not exist. Whatever exists is +this or that particular sort of being. Being itself is not anywhere to +be found. Thus the Eleatics first denied that existence is reality, +and then that reality exists. They did not themselves draw this +conclusion, but it is involved in their whole position. + +With a fully developed idealism, like Plato's, this ought to be still +clearer. And, in a sense, it is. The individual horse is not real. But +it certainly exists. The universal horse is real. But it does not +exist. But, upon this last point, Plato wavered and fell. He cannot +resist the temptation to think of the absolute reality as existing. +And consequently the Ideas are {247} not merely thought as the real +universal in the world, but as having a separate existence in a world +of their own. Plato must have realised what is, in truth, involved in +his whole position, that the absolute reality has no existence. For he +tells us that it is the universal, and not any particular individual +thing. But everything that exists is an individual thing. Again, he +tells us that the Idea is outside time. But whatever exists must exist +at some time. Here then this central idealistic thought seems well +fixed in Plato's mind. But when he goes on to speak of recollection +and reincarnation, when he tells us that the soul before birth dwelt +apart in the world of Ideas, to which after death it may hope to +return, it is clear that Plato has forgotten his own philosophy, that +he is now thinking of the Ideas as individual existences in a world of +their own. This is a world of Ideas having a separate existence and +place of its own. It is not this world. It is a world beyond. Thus the +Platonic philosophy which began on a high level of idealistic +thinking, proclaiming the sole reality of the universal, ends by +turning the universal itself into nothing but an existent particular. +It is the old old story of trying to form mental pictures of that +which no picture is adequate to comprehend. Since all pictures are +formed out of sensuous materials, and since we can form no picture of +anything that is not an individual thing, to form a picture of the +universal necessarily means thinking of it as just what it is not, an +individual. So Plato commits the greatest sin that can be ascribed to +a philosopher. He treats thought as a thing. + +To sum up. Plato is the great founder of idealism, the initiator of +all subsequent truths in philosophy. {248} But, as always with +pioneers, his idealism is crude. It cannot explain the world; it +cannot explain itself. It cannot even keep true to its own principles, +because, having for the first time in history definitely enunciated +the truth that reality is the universal, it straightway forgets its +own creed and plunges back into a particularism which regards the +Ideas as existent individuals. It was these defects which Aristotle +set himself to rectify in a purer idealism, shorn of Plato's +impurities. + + + +{249} + +CHAPTER XIII + +ARISTOTLE + +1. Life, Writings, and general character of his Work. + +Aristotle was born in 384 B.C. at Stagirus, a Grecian colony and +seaport on the coast of Thrace. His father Nichomachus was court +physician to King Amyntas of Macedonia, and from this began +Aristotle's long association with the Macedonian Court, which +considerably influenced his life and destinies. While he was still a +boy his father died, and he was sent by his guardian, Proxenus, to +Athens, the intellectual centre of the world, to complete his +education. He was then aged seventeen. He joined the Academy and +studied under Plato, attending the latter's lectures for a period of +twenty years. In subsequent times, Aristotle's detractors, anxious to +vilify his character, accused him of "ingratitude" to his master, +Plato. It was said that Plato's old age had been embittered by +dissensions in the school caused by the factious spirit of Aristotle. +That there is no ground for attaching any blame to Aristotle for the +troubles of Plato, which either did not exist or have been grossly +exaggerated, is evident both from the facts within our knowledge and +from the reference to Plato in Aristotle's works. It is not likely +that, had Aristotle rendered himself genuinely objectionable, he could +have remained for twenty years in {250} the Academy, and only left it +upon the death of Plato. Moreover, although Aristotle in his works +attacks the teaching of Plato with unsparing vigour, there is nowhere +to be found in these attacks any suggestion of acrimony or personal +rancour. On the contrary, he refers to himself as the friend of Plato, +but a greater friend of the truth. The fact, in all probability, is +that a man of such independent and original mind as Aristotle did not +accord to Plato the kind of blind adoration and hero-worship which he +may have received from the inferior intellects in the school. As is so +often the case with young men of marked ability, the brilliant student +may have suffered from the impatience and self-assertion of youth. +There was certainly nothing worse. + +While at the Academy Aristotle exhibited an unflagging spirit and +unwearied zeal in the pursuit of knowledge in all its forms, a spirit +which gave rise to nick-names and anecdotes, which probably contained +as much truth, or as little, as most of the anecdotes which gather +round remarkable characters. One of these stories was that he used a +mechanical contrivance to wake him up whenever sleep threatened to put +an end to his hours of study. + +In 347 B.C. Plato died, and his nephew Speusippus was chosen as head +of the Academy. Aristotle left Athens with his fellow-student +Xenocrates, and together they repaired to the court of Hermeias, King +of Atarneus, in Asia Minor. Hermeias, a man of low origin, but of high +instincts and advanced education, had himself attended the lectures of +Plato, and received the two young philosophers as welcome guests. +Aristotle stayed three years at Atarneus, and, while there, married +{251} Pythias, the niece of the King. In later life he was married a +second time to one Herpyllis, who bore him a son, Nichomachus. At the +end of three years Hermeias fell a victim to the treachery of the +Persians, and Aristotle went to Mytilene. Here he remained for several +years till he received an invitation from Philip of Macedonia to +become the tutor of the young Alexander, afterwards conqueror of the +world, then aged thirteen. Aristotle obeyed the summons, and for about +five years superintended the education of Alexander. Both Philip and +Alexander appear to have paid Aristotle high honour, and there were +stories that he was supplied by the Macedonian court, not only with +funds for the prosecution of learning, but even with thousands of +slaves for the collection of specimens. These stories are probably +false and certainly exaggerated. But there is no doubt that, in his +scientific and philosophical enquiries, he was backed by the influence +of the court, and could even perhaps have looked to that quarter for +supplies, had it ever been necessary. + +Upon the death of Philip, Alexander succeeded to the kingship. The +period of his studies was now over, and he began to make preparations +for his subsequent conquests. Aristotle's work being finished, he +returned to Athens, which he had not visited since the death of Plato. +He found the Platonic school flourishing under Xenocrates, and +Platonism the dominant philosophy of Athens. He thereupon set up his +own school at a place called the Lyceum. It was in connection with +this that his followers became known, in after years, as the +"peripatetics," a name which arose from Aristotle's habit of walking +about as he discoursed. The period of {252} his residence in Athens +lasted thirteen years, during which time he was occupied in the +leadership of his school and in literary labours. This appears to have +been the most fruitful period of his life. There is no doubt that all +his most important writings were composed at this time. But at the end +of this period his fortunes changed. + +In B.C. 323 Alexander the Great died suddenly at Babylon in the midst +of his triumphs. The Athenian Government was in the hands of a +pro-Macedonian party. Upon the death of Alexander this party was +overthrown, and a general reaction occurred against everything +Macedonian. Alexander had been regarded in Greece much as Napoleon was +regarded in Europe a century ago. He had insulted the free Greek +cities. He had even sacked the city of Thebes. The whole of Greece +lived in perpetual terror of invasion. Now that this fear was removed +by his death, there was a general outburst of feeling against +Macedonia. An anti-Macedonian party came into power. Now Aristotle had +always been regarded as a representative and protege of the Macedonian +court, although, as a matter of fact, he had recently fallen out of +favour with the autocratic Alexander. A charge of impiety was trumped +up against him. To escape prosecution he fled to Chalcis in Euboea, in +order that, as he said, "the Athenians might not have another +opportunity of sinning against philosophy as they had already done in +the person of Socrates." He perhaps intended to return to Athens as +soon as the storm had blown over. But in the first year of his +residence at Chalcis he was overtaken by a sudden illness, and died at +the age of sixty-three, in B.C. 322. + +{253} + +Aristotle is said to have composed some four hundred books. Our +astonishment at this productivity diminishes somewhat when we remember +that what is here called a "book" is much the same as what we should +call a chapter in a modern treatise. More than three-quarters of these +writings have been lost. But, by good fortune, what remains to us is +undoubtedly by far the most important part, and we have preserved in +it a fairly complete account of the whole Aristotelian system in all +its departments. Nearly all the writings, however, have come down to +us in a mutilated state. This is especially the case with the +"Metaphysics." This treatise is unfinished, and it was probably left +unfinished by its author at his death. But apart from this, several of +the books of the "Metaphysics" are undoubtedly spurious. Others +apparently come in the wrong order. We end one book in the middle of a +discussion, and when we begin the next we find ourselves in the middle +of an entirely different subject. There are frequent repetitions, and +parts of it read as if they were mere lecture notes. There are many +interpolations. The same characteristics are to be observed in +Aristotle's other writings, though in a less degree. It seems probable +that they were not intended, in their present state, for publication. +Final revision and finishing touches are lacking. In spite of these +defects, the writings are voluminous and clear enough to enable us to +trace out the whole of the main positions of Aristotle's thought. + +We saw, in the case of Plato, that, as his literary activity lasted +over a period of half a century, during which his philosophy was in +constant development, it became important to trace this development in +the {254} order of his Dialogues. The same thing is not true in the +case of Aristotle. The whole of his writings, or rather those that +have come down to us, seem to have been written during his last +thirteen years, while he was at Athens, that is to say, after he had +passed his fiftieth year. His system was then complete, mature, and +fully developed. The question of the order in which they were written +has no great importance. The result of critical investigations, +however, is to show that he probably began with the various works upon +logic, composed next the treatises upon physical science, next the +ethical and political books, and lastly the "Metaphysics," which he +left unfinished. + +It must not be forgotten that Aristotle was not only a philosopher in +the modern restricted sense of that term. He was a man of universal +learning. There is no branch of knowledge which did not receive his +attention, and upon which he was not the greatest expert of his time, +except perhaps mathematics. So far was he from being only an abstract +philosopher, that his natural tastes seem to have lain rather in the +field of physical science than of abstract thought. But his design +seems to have been to work over the entire field of knowledge, +thoroughly to overhaul the sciences already in existence, rejecting +what seemed false in the work of his predecessors, and invariably +adding to the residue valuable developments and suggestions of his +own. Where there was no science already in existence, his plan +involved the foundation of new sciences wherever necessary, and he +thus became the founder of at least two sciences, Logic and Zoology. +He thus attained to a pre-eminence in all branches {255} of knowledge +which would be impossible for a single man in modern times. His works +include treatises upon Logic and Metaphysics, upon Ethics, Politics, +and Art. He wrote a treatise upon the principles of Rhetoric, another +upon Astronomy, under the title "On the Heavens," another upon +Meteorology. Several of his treatises deal with the biology of animal +life, in which he was intensely interested. They include books +entitled "On the Parts of Animals," "On the Movements of Animals," "On +the Origin of Animals," as well as his great treatise, "Researches on +Animals," which contains an enormous mass of facts collected from +every possible source. It is true that a large proportion of these +facts have turned out to be fictions, but this was inevitable in the +infancy of science. It has been calculated that Aristotle shows +himself acquainted with about five hundred different species of living +beings, though they are not, of course, classified by him in the +modern way. With these books upon animals he founded the science of +Zoology, for no one before his day had made any special study of the +subject. + +It has been said that everyone has either an Aristotelian or a +Platonic type of mind. As this implies that Aristotle and Plato are +opposites, it is considerably less than a half truth. No genuine +understanding of Aristotle can endorse the opinion that his +philosophical system was the opposite of Plato's. It would be truer to +say that Aristotle was the greatest of all Platonists, since his +system is still founded upon the Idea, and is an attempt to found an +idealism free from the defects of Plato's system. It is in fact a +development of Platonism. What is the cause then of the popular notion +that {256} Aristotle was the opposite of Plato? Now the fact is that +they _were_ opposites in many important respects. But there was a +fundamental agreement between them which lies deeper than the +differences. The differences are largely superficial, the agreement is +deep-seated. Hence it is the differences that are most obvious, and it +was the differences, too, which were most obvious to Aristotle +himself. The popular opinion arises largely from the fact that +Aristotle never loses an opportunity of attacking the Platonic theory +of Ideas. He is continually at pains to emphasize the difference +between himself and Plato, but says nothing of the agreement. But no +man is a judge of his own deeper relations to his predecessors and +contemporaries. It is only in after years, when the hubbub of +controversy has settled down into the silence of the past, that the +historian can see the true perspective, and can penetrate the +relations of each great man to the time in which he lived. Plato was +the founder of idealism, and his idealism was in many respects crude +and untenable. It was the special mission of Aristotle to clear away +these crudities, and so develop Platonism into a tenable philosophy. +And it was natural that he should emphasize the crudities, which he +had to fight so hard to overcome, rather than that substratum of truth +which Plato had already developed, and which therefore required no +special treatment at his hands. It was the differences between himself +and his predecessor which were most obvious to him, and it was +inevitable that he should adopt a thoroughly polemical attitude +towards his master. + +But if the agreement was more deep-seated than the differences, and +lay in the recognition of the Idea as the {257} absolute foundation of +the world, the differences were none the less very striking. In the +first place, Aristotle loved facts. What he wanted was always definite +scientific knowledge. Plato, on the other hand, had no love of facts +and no gift for physical enquiries. And what disgusted Aristotle about +the system of Plato was the contempt which it poured upon the world of +sense. To depreciate objects of sense, and to proclaim the knowledge +of them valueless, was a fundamental characteristic of all Plato's +thinking. But the world of sense is the world of facts, and Aristotle +was deeply interested in facts. No matter in what branch of knowledge, +any fact was received by Aristotle with enthusiasm. To Plato it +appeared of no interest what the habits of some obscure animal might +be. That alone which should be pursued is the knowledge of the Idea. +And he went so far as to deny that knowledge of the sense-world could +properly be described as knowledge at all. But the habits of animals +appeared to Aristotle a matter worthy of investigation for its own +sake. Francis Bacon in his "Novum Organum" has many contemptuous +references to Aristotle. And the gist of them all is that Aristotle +had no regard for facts, but theorized a priori out of his head, and +that instead of patiently investigating the facts of nature, he +decided, upon so-called "rational" grounds, what nature ought to do, +and squared the facts with his theories. + +It was natural for Bacon to be unjust to him. He, with the other +thinkers of his time, was engaged upon an uphill fight against +scholasticism, then dominant, which claimed to represent the true +teaching of Aristotle. And it was true that the schoolmen theorized a +priori, {258} and ignored facts, or, what was worse, appealed to the +writings of Aristotle to decide questions of fact which should have +been decided by an appeal to nature. And Bacon not unnaturally +confounded Aristotle with these modern Aristotelians, and attributed +to him the faults that were really theirs. But no man was ever keener +on facts than Aristotle as is proved by his treatises upon animals, +which contain evidences of astonishing patience and laborious work in +the collection of facts. It is true, however, that even in the domain +of facts, Aristotle, like all the ancients, was guilty of introducing +_a priori_ reasonings when they were quite out of place. Thus he does +not scruple to argue that the stars must move in circles because the +circle is the perfect figure. And numerous similar instances could be +quoted. But it was inevitable that, with science in its swaddling +clothes, without the aid of any instruments, or of any body of +previously ascertained truths, Aristotle should fall into these +snares. He well understood the fundamental necessity of all natural +sciences for a laborious investigation of facts, but, when this was +impossible, he used the only means in his power, his reason. + +Secondly, in spite of Plato's rationalism, he had allowed to myths and +poetry a large share in the development of his thoughts, and had even +exhibited a distinct tendency towards mysticism. Here again what +Aristotle wanted was definite knowledge. It pained him to see poetic +metaphors substituted for rational explanation. And this accounts for +the third main difference between Plato and Aristotle, the marked +contrast in their prose styles. Plato was a master-artist in words. +Aristotle cared nothing for the ornaments and beauties of style. {259} +He harshly excludes them from his work. What alone he is intent upon +is the meaning, the truth that the words express. He is too much in +earnest with philosophy to lose himself in a haze of beautiful words, +or to be put off with metaphors instead of reasons. His style is even +harsh, abrupt, and ugly. But what it loses in beauty it gains in +clearness of conception. For every thought or shade of thought which +it is desired to express there is an accurate term. If no term in +common use will express the thought, Aristotle coins one. Hence he is +one of the greatest terminologists that ever lived. He adapted or +invented an enormous number of terms. He may be not unjustly regarded +as the founder of philosophical language, as the inventor of a +vocabulary of technical terms. Many of the terms used to this day to +express man's most abstract thoughts, were invented or introduced by +Aristotle. It must not be supposed that Aristotle wrote in a rigidly +scientific style because he had no aesthetic sense. The very contrary +is the case. His treatise on art shows him by far the best critic of +the ancient world, and in his appreciation and estimation of the +beautiful he far excels Plato. But he saw that art and science have +each their own sphere, and that it is fatal to confuse the two. +Nothing is so damaging to art as to be made the mere vehicle of +reasoning. Nothing is so damaging to philosophy as to allow itself to +be governed by poetry. If we want beauty, we must follow the path of +art. But if we desire truth, we must stick close to reason. + +Aristotle's system falls most easily into the fivefold division of +logic, metaphysics, physics, ethics, and aesthetics. + +{260} + +2. Logic. + +Not much need be said under this head, because whoever knows the +common logic of the text-books knows the logic of Aristotle. Of the +two branches of reasoning, deductive and inductive, Aristotle clearly +recognizes the latter. And many of his observations upon induction are +acute and penetrating. But he has not reduced induction to a science. +He has not laid bare the fundamental canons of inductive thought. This +was a work not performed until comparatively modern times. His name +therefore is more especially associated with deductive logic, of which +he was the founder. He not only founded the science, but practically +completed it. What we now know as "formal logic," what is to this day +contained in all text-books, taught in all schools and universities, +is, in all its essentials, nothing more than the logic of Aristotle. +His writings upon the subject include the treatment of the well-known +laws of thought, the doctrine of the ten categories, the five +predicables, the doctrines of terms, of propositions, of syllogisms, +and of the reduction of the other figures to the first figure of the +syllogism. And these heads might well form the list of contents of a +modern work on formal logic. In only two respects has any advance been +made upon Aristotle by subsequent logicians. The fourth figure of the +syllogism is not recognized by Aristotle; and he dealt only with +categorical syllogisms, and does not treat conditional syllogisms. But +whether or not the fourth figure of the syllogism has any value is +still a matter open to dispute. And though the doctrine of conditional +syllogisms is important, it is not essential, because all conditional +syllogisms can be reduced to categorical {261} syllogisms. The +categorical syllogism is the fundamental type of reasoning, to which +every other form of deduction can be reduced. As for the rest of the +huge treatises on formal logic which some moderns have produced, the +supposed additions are nothing but wearisome, endless, useless, +nauseating, academic distinctions and refinements, which are much +better forgotten than remembered. Aristotle's logic contains therefore +all that is essential to the subject. The only ground on which it can +be attacked is its wholly empirical procedure. But that is another +story. As a collection, arrangement, and analysis of the facts of +reason, it is to all intents and purposes finality achieved at one +stroke. + + + +3. Metaphysics. + +The treatise now known as the "Metaphysics" of Aristotle did not +originally bear that name. Aristotle's name for this subject is "first +philosophy," by which he means the knowledge of the first, highest, or +most general principles of the universe. All other branches of +knowledge are subordinate to this science, not because they are +inferior in value, but because they are lower in logical sequence as +dealing with principles less universal in their scope. Thus all the +special sciences deal with one or another particular sphere of being, +but the "first philosophy" has for its subject being as such, "being +so far forth as it is being." It studies, not the characteristics of +this or that kind of being, but the principles which are equally true +of all being. The laws of Zoology apply only to animals, but the +principles of the "first philosophy" apply to everything. The name +"metaphysics" came into use only half a century B.C., when {262} +Andronicus published a complete edition of Aristotle's known works. In +this edition the treatise on "first philosophy" was placed after the +"physics," and "metaphysics" signifies simply "after physics." The +derivation of the word thus appears to be merely accidental and +adventitious. Whether it was also in any way intended to signify that +the subject is "beyond physics," that is, deals with what transcends +physical existence, seems doubtful. + +Aristotle's metaphysical theory grows naturally out of his polemic +against Plato's theory of Ideas, because his own system was in effect +simply an attempt to overcome the defects which he found in Plato. The +main heads of this polemic are the following:-- + +(1) Plato's Ideas do not explain the existence of things. To explain +why the world is here is after all the main problem of philosophy, and +Plato's theory fails to do this. Even admitting that, say, the Idea of +whiteness exists, we cannot see how it produces white objects. + +(2) Plato has not explained the relation of Ideas to things. Things, +we are told, are "copies" of Ideas, and "participate" in them. But how +are we to understand this "participation"? In using such phrases, says +Aristotle, Plato is giving no real account of the relationship, but is +merely "uttering poetic metaphors." + +(3) Even if the existence of things is explained by the Ideas, their +motion is not. Suppose that the Idea of whiteness produces white +things, the Idea of beauty beautiful things, and so on, yet, since the +Ideas themselves are immutable and motionless, so will be the world +which is their copy. Thus the universe would be {263} absolutely +static, like Coleridge's "painted ship upon a painted ocean." But the +world, on the contrary, is a world of change, motion, life, becoming. +Plato makes no attempt to explain the unceasing becoming of things. +Even if the Idea of whiteness explains white objects, yet why do these +objects arise, develop, decay, and cease to exist? To explain this +there must be some principle of motion in the Ideas themselves. But +there is not. They are immovable and lifeless. + +(4) The world consists of a multitude of things, and it is the +business of philosophy to explain why they exist. By way of +explanation Plato merely assumes the existence of another multitude of +things, the Ideas. But the only effect of this is to double the number +of things to be explained. How does it help thus to duplicate +everything? And Aristotle likens Plato to a man who, being unable to +count with a small number, fancies that, if he doubles the number, he +will find it easier to count. + +(5) The Ideas are supposed to be non-sensuous, but they are, in fact, +sensuous. Plato thought that a non-sensuous principle must be sought +in order to explain the world of sense. But not being able to find any +such principle, he merely took the objects of sense over again and +called them non-sensuous. But there is, in fact, no difference between +the horse and the Idea of the horse, between the man and the Idea of +the man, except a useless and meaningless "in-itself" or "in-general" +attached to each object of sense to make it appear something +different. The Ideas are nothing but hypostatized things of sense, and +Aristotle likens them to the anthropomorphic gods of the popular +religion. "As {264} these," he says, "are nothing but deified men, so +the Ideas are nothing but eternalized things of nature." Things are +said to be copies of Ideas, but in fact the Ideas are only copies of +things. + +(6) Next comes the argument of the "third man," so called by Aristotle +from the illustration by which he explained it. Ideas are assumed in +order to explain what is common to many objects. Wherever there is a +common element there must be an Idea. Thus there is a common element +in all men, and therefore there is an Idea of man. But there is also +an element common to the individual man and to the Idea of man. There +must, therefore, be a further Idea, the "third man," to explain this. +And between this further Idea and the individual man there must be yet +another Idea to explain what they have in common, and so on _ad +infinitum_. + +(7) But by far the most important of all Aristotle's objections to the +ideal theory, and that which, to all intents and purposes, sums up all +the others, is that it assumes that Ideas are the essences of things, +and yet places those essences outside the things themselves. The +essence of a thing must be in it, and not outside it. But Plato +separated Ideas from things, and placed the Ideas away somewhere in a +mysterious world of their own. The Idea, as the universal, can only +exist in the particular. Possibly the reality in all horses is the +universal horse, but the universal horse is not something that exists +by itself and independently of individual horses. Hence Plato was led +into the absurdity of talking as if, besides the individual horses we +know, there is somewhere another individual called the +horse-in-general, or as if besides white objects there is a thing +called {265} whiteness. And this is in fact the supreme +self-contradiction of the theory of Ideas, that it begins by saying +that the universal is real, and the particular unreal, but ends by +degrading the universal again into a particular. This is the same +thing as saying that Plato's mistake lay in first (rightly) seeing +that existence is not reality, but then (wrongly) going on to imagine +that the reality is an existence. + +Out of this last objection grows Aristotle's own philosophy, the +fundamental principle of which is that the universal is indeed the +absolute reality, but that it is a universal which exists only in the +particular. What is reality? What is substance? This is the first +question for the metaphysician. Now substance is what has an +independent existence of its own; it is that whose being does not flow +into it from any source outside itself. Consequently, substance is +what is never a predicate; it is that to which all predicates are +applied. Thus in the proposition, "Gold is heavy," gold is the +subject, or substance, and "heavy" is its predicate. The heaviness is +dependent for its existence on the gold, and it is therefore the +latter, and not the former, that is the substance. + +Now, keeping this in mind, are universals, as Plato asserts, +substances? No; because the universal is merely a common predicate +which attaches to many objects of a class. Thus the concept of man is +merely what is common to all men. It is the same thing as the +predicate "humanness." But humanness cannot exist apart from human +beings, any more than heaviness apart from the heavy object. +Universals, then, are not substances. But neither are particulars +substances. For there is no such thing as that which is absolutely +{266} particular and isolated. If humanness does not exist apart from +men, neither do men exist apart from humanness. Take away from a man +what he has in common with other men, and what he has in common with +other objects, and you will find that, having stripped him of all his +qualities, there is absolutely nothing left. We say gold is heavy, +yellow, malleable, etc. Now the heaviness, the yellowness, and the +other qualities, cannot exist apart from the gold. But it is equally +true that the gold cannot exist apart from its qualities. Strip off +all its qualities in thought, and then ask yourself what the gold +itself is apart from its qualities. You will find that your mind is a +total blank. In taking away the qualities you have taken away the gold +itself. The gold can only be thought through its qualities. It only +exists through its qualities. The gold, therefore, just as much +depends on the qualities for its existence as the qualities depend +upon the gold. Hence neither of them, considered apart from the other, +is substance. But the qualities are the universal element in the gold, +the gold without the qualities is the absolutely particular and +isolated. For, first, the yellowness is a quality which this gold has +in common with that gold, and is therefore a universal, and so with +all the qualities. Even if a particular piece of gold has a quality +possessed by no other gold, it is yet possessed by some other object +in the universe, or it would be unknowable. Every quality is +consequently a universal. Secondly, the gold without its qualities is +the absolutely particular. For, being stripped of all qualities, it is +stripped of whatever it has in common with other things; it is +stripped of whatever universality it has, and it remains an absolute +particular. Hence the {267} universal is not substance, nor is the +particular. For neither of them can exist without the other. Substance +must be a compound of the two; it must be the universal in the +particular. And this means that that alone which is substance is the +individual object, for example, the gold with all its qualities +attached to it. + +It is usually believed that Aristotle contradicted himself in as much +as he first states, as above, that the individual object, the compound +of universal and particular, is substance, but later on allows a +superior reality to the universal, or "form" as he calls it, and in +effect teaches, like Plato, that the universal is what alone is +absolutely real, that is, that the universal is substance. I do not +agree that there is any real inconsistency in Aristotle. Or rather, +the inconsistency is one of words and not of thought. It must be +remembered that, whenever Aristotle says that the individual, and not +the universal, is substance, he is thinking of Plato. What he means to +deny is that the universal can exist on its own account, as Plato +thought. Nevertheless he agrees with Plato that the universal is the +real. When he says that the universal is not substance he means, as +against Plato, that it is not existent. What alone exists is the +individual thing, the compound of universal and particular. When he +says, or implies, that the universal is substance, he means that, +though it is not existent, it is real. His words are contradictory, +but his meaning is not. He has not expressed himself as clearly as he +should; that is all. + +The further development of Aristotle's metaphysics depends upon his +doctrine of causation. By causation here, however, is meant a very +much wider conception {268} than what is understood by that term in +modern times. I have in previous lectures attempted to make clear the +distinction between causes and reasons. The cause of a thing does not +give any reason for it, and therefore does not explain it. The cause +is merely the mechanism by which a reason produces its consequence. +Death is caused by accident or disease, but these causes explain +nothing as to why death should be in the world at all. Now if we +accept this distinction, we may say that Aristotle's conception of +causation includes both what we have called causes and reasons. +Whatever is necessary, whether facts or principles, whether causes or +reasons, fully to understand the existence of a thing, or the +happening of an event, is included in the Aristotelian notion of +causation. + +Taking causation in this wide sense, Aristotle finds that there are +four kinds of causes, the material, the efficient, the formal, and the +final cause. These are not alternative causes; it is not meant that, +to explain anything, one or other of the four must be present. In +every case of the existence or production of a thing all four causes +operate simultaneously. Moreover the same four causes are to be found +both in human and in cosmic production, in the making of manufactured +articles by man and in the production of things by nature. They are +more clearly and easily seen, however, in human production, from which +sphere, therefore, we select our example. The material cause of a +thing is the matter of which it is composed. It is the raw material +which becomes the thing. For example, in the making of a bronze statue +of Hermes, the bronze is the material cause of the statue. This +example might lead one to suppose {269} that Aristotle means by +material cause what we call matter, physical substance, such as brass, +iron, or wood. As we shall see later, this is not necessarily the +case, though it is so in the present instance. The efficient cause is +always defined by Aristotle as the cause of motion. It is the energy +or moving force required to bring about change. It must be remembered +that by motion Aristotle means not merely change of place but change +of any sort. The alteration of a leaf from green to yellow is just as +much motion, in his sense, as the falling of a stone. The efficient +cause, then, is the cause of all change. In the example taken, what +causes the bronze to become a statue, what produces this change, is +the sculptor. He is, therefore, the efficient cause of the statue. The +formal cause Aristotle defines as the substance and essence of the +thing. Now the essence of a thing is given in its definition. But the +definition is the explication of the concept. Therefore the formal +cause is the concept, or, as Plato would call it, the Idea of the +thing. Plato's Ideas thus reappear in Aristotle as formal causes. The +final cause is the end, purpose, or aim, towards which the movement is +directed. When a statue is being produced, the end of this activity, +what the sculptor aims at, is the completed statue itself. And the +final cause of a thing in general is the thing itself, the completed +being of the object. + +We can see at once how much wider this conception of causation is than +the modern conception. If we take Mill's definition of a cause as the +best expression of modern scientific ideas, we find that he defines a +cause as the "invariable and unconditional antecedent of a +phenomenon." This cuts out final causes at once. For {270} the final +cause is the end, and is not an antecedent in time. It also does not +include formal causes. For we do not now think of the concept of a +thing as being part of its cause. This leaves us with only material +and efficient causes, and these correspond roughly to the modern +notions of matter and energy. Even the efficient causes of Aristotle, +however, appear on further consideration, to be excluded from the +modern idea of causation. For, though the efficient cause is the +energy which produces motion, modern science regards it as purely +mechanical energy, whereas Aristotle thinks of it, as we shall see, as +an ideal force, operating not from the beginning but from the end. But +it must not be supposed that, in saying that the modern idea of +causation excludes formal and final causes, we mean that Aristotle is +wrong in adding them, or that the modern idea is better than +Aristotle's. It is not a question of better and worse at all. Modern +science does not in any way deny the reality of formal and final +causes. It merely considers them to be outside its sphere. It is no +business of science whether they exist or not. As knowledge advances, +differentiation and division of labour occur. Science takes as its +province mechanical causes, and leaves formal and final causes to the +philosopher to explicate. Thus, for example, formal causes are not +considered by science because they are not, in the modern sense, +causes at all. They are what we have called reasons. If we are to +explain the existence of an object in the universe it may be necessary +to introduce formal causes, concepts, to show why the thing exists, to +show in fact its reasons. But science makes no attempt to explain the +existence of objects. It takes their {271} existence for granted, and +seeks to trace their history and their relations to each other. +Therefore it does not require formal causes. It seeks to work out the +mechanical view of the universe, and therefore considers only +mechanical causes. But Aristotle's theory, as being philosophy rather +than science, includes both the principles of mechanism and teleology. + + +It was not Aristotle's habit to propound his theories as if they were +something absolutely new, sprung for the first time out of his own +brain. In attacking any problem, his custom was to begin by +enumerating current and past opinions, to criticise them, to reject +what was valueless in them, to retain the residue of truth, and to add +to it his own suggestions and original ideas. The resultant of this +process was his own theory, which he thus represented, not as +absolutely new, but as a development of the views of his predecessors. +This course he follows also in the present instance. The first book of +the "Metaphysics" is a history of all previous philosophy, from Thales +to Plato, undertaken with the object of investigating how far the four +causes had been recognized by his predecessors. The material cause, he +says, had been recognized from the first. The Ionics believed in this +and no other cause. They sought to explain everything by matter, +though they differed among themselves as to the nature of the material +cause, Thales describing it as water, Anaximenes as air. Later +philosophers also gave different accounts of it, Heracleitus thinking +it was fire, Empedocles the four elements, Anaxagoras an indefinite +number of kinds of matter. But the point is that they all recognized +the necessity for a material cause of some sort to explain the +universe. + +{272} + +The earliest thinkers, then, the Ionics, assumed only this one cause. +But as thought advanced, says Aristotle, and other philosophers came +upon the scene, "the thing itself guided them." It was seen that a +second cause was necessary to explain the motion and becoming of +things. For matter itself does not produce its motion. Wood is not the +cause of its becoming a bed, nor is brass the cause of its becoming a +statue. Hence arose the idea of the efficient cause. The Eleatics did +not recognize it, for they denied motion, and for them, therefore, no +cause of motion could be assumed. But Parmenides, Aristotle thinks, +wavered on this point, somehow allowing vaguely the existence of a +second cause, which he denominated the hot and the cold. The reference +is, of course, to the second part of the poem of Parmenides. Other +philosophers clearly assumed an efficient cause, for they thought that +one element, for example, fire, is more active, that is, more +productive of motion, than others. Empedocles certainly attained to +the idea of an efficient cause, for he named as moving forces, harmony +and discord, love and hate. Anaxagoras also, used Nous as a moving +force. + +Formal causes had, perhaps, been recognized by the Pythagoreans, for +numbers are forms. But they straightway degraded the formal cause to +the level of a material cause by declaring that number is the stuff or +matter of which things are made. Plato alone clearly saw the necessity +for the formal cause, for formal causes are, as we have seen, the same +as Plato's Ideas. But Plato's philosophy contains only two of the four +causes, namely the material and the formal, for Plato made all things +out of matter and the Ideas. Since the Ideas have in them {273} no +principle of motion, Plato's system contains no efficient cause. As +for final causes, Plato had indeed the vague idea that everything is +for the sake of the Good, but he makes no use of this conception and +does not develop it. Final causes were introduced into philosophy by +Anaxagoras, whose doctrine of the world forming mind was assumed to +explain the design and purpose which the universe exhibits. But as his +system developed he forgot about this, and used the Nous merely as a +piece of mechanism to explain motion, thus letting it sink into +nothing more than an efficient cause. + +In the result, Aristotle finds that all four causes have been +recognized in greater or lesser degrees by his predecessors, and this, +in his opinion, greatly reinforces his own doctrine. But whereas +material and efficient causes have been clearly understood, his +predecessors had only vaguely foreshadowed and dimly perceived the +value of formal and final causes. + +The next step in Aristotle's metaphysics is to reduce these four +principles to two, which he calls matter and form. This reduction +takes place by showing that formal cause, efficient cause, and final +cause, all melt into the single conception of form. In the first +place, the formal cause and the final cause are the same. For the +formal cause is the essence, the concept, the Idea, of the thing. Now +the final cause, or the end, is simply the realisation of the Idea of +the thing in actuality. What the thing aims at is the definite +expression of its form. It thus aims at its form. Its end, final +cause, is thus the same as its formal cause. Secondly, the efficient +cause is the same as the final cause. For the efficient cause is the +cause of becoming. The final cause is the end of {274} the becoming, +it is what it becomes. And, in Aristotle's opinion, what causes the +becoming is just that it aims at the end. The striving of all things +is towards the end, and exists because of the end. The end is thus +itself the cause of becoming or motion. That is to say, the final +cause is the real efficient cause. We may see this better by an +example. The end or final cause of the acorn is the oak. And it is the +oak which is the cause of the acorn's growth, which consists +essentially in a movement by which the acorn is drawn towards its end, +the oak. We may see this even more definitely in the case of human +productions, because here the striving towards an end is conscious, +whereas in nature it is unconscious or instinctive. The efficient +cause of the statue is the sculptor. It is he that moves the brass. +But what moves the sculptor, and causes him to act upon the brass, is +the idea of the completed statue in his mind. The idea of the end, the +final cause, is thus the real ultimate cause of the movement. Only, in +the case of human production, the idea of the end is actually present +in the sculptor's mind as a motive. In nature there is no mind in +which the end is conscious of itself, but nevertheless nature moves +towards the end, and the end is the cause of the movement. Thus the +three causes named all melt into a single notion, which Aristotle +calls the form of the thing. And this leaves only the material cause +unreduced to any other. So we are left with the single antithesis of +matter and form. + +Now as matter and form are the fundamental categories of Aristotle's +philosophy, by means of which he seeks to explain the entire universe, +it is essential that we should thoroughly understand their +characteristics. {275} First of all, matter and form are inseparable. +We think of them as separate in order to understand them clearly. And +this is quite right, because they are opposite principles, and +therefore they are separable in thought. But they are never separable +in fact. There is no such thing as form without matter, or matter +without form. Every existent thing, that is, every individual object, +is a compound of matter and form. We may compare them in this respect +to the material and the shape of a thing, though we must be careful +not to think that form is merely shape. Geometry considers shapes as +if they existed by themselves. But, in fact, we know that there are no +such things as squares, circles, and triangles. There are only square +objects, circular objects, etc. And as there are no shapes without +objects, so there are no objects without shapes. We talk of things +being "shapeless," but this only means that their shape is irregular +or unusual. Some shape an object must have. Yet, though shape and +matter are inseparable in fact, they are opposite principles, and are +separable in thought. Geometry is quite right to treat shapes as if +they existed by themselves, but it is nevertheless dealing with mere +abstractions. Just in the same way, matter and form are never apart, +and to think of form by itself or matter by itself is a mere +abstraction. No such thing exists. In fact, to imagine that forms can +exist by themselves was just the mistake of which, as we have seen, +Aristotle accuses Plato. For the form is the Idea, and Plato imagined +that Ideas exist in a world of their own. + +From this, too, we can see that the form is the universal, the matter +the particular. For the form is the Idea, and the Idea is the +universal. To say that form and {276} matter cannot exist apart is +thus the same as saying that the universal only exists in the +particular, which, as we have seen, is the fundamental note of +Aristotle's philosophy. But if we thus identify matter with the +particular element in things, we must be careful that we do not +confuse the particular with the individual. We often use these two +words as practically synonymous, and there is no harm in this, but +here we must be careful to separate them. For every individual is, +according to Aristotle, a compound of matter and form, of the +particular and the universal. And when we say that matter is the +particular, we mean, not that it is such a compound, but that it is +the absolutely particular which has no universal in it. But the +absolutely particular and isolated does not exist. A piece of gold, +for instance, only exists by virtue of its properties, yellowness, +heaviness, etc., and these qualities are just what it has in common +with other things. So that the particular, as such, has no existence, +but this is only the same as saying, what we have already said, that +matter has no existence apart from form. + +A very natural mistake would be to suppose that by matter Aristotle +meant the same as we do, namely, physical substance, such as wood or +iron, and that by form he meant simply shape. Now although there is a +kinship in the ideas, these two pairs of ideas are far from identical. +Let us begin with matter. Our ordinary idea of matter as physical +substance is an absolute conception. That is to say, a thing which we +call material is absolutely, once and for all, matter. It is not +material from one point of view, and immaterial from another. In every +possible relation it is, and {277} remains, matter. Nor does it in +process of time cease to be matter. Brass never becomes anything but +matter. No doubt there are in nature changes of one sort of matter +into another, for example, radium into helium. And for all we know, +brass may become lead. But even so, it does not cease to be matter. +But Aristotle's conception of matter is a relative conception. Matter +and form are fluid. They flow into one another. The same thing, from +one point of view, is matter, from another, form. In all change, +matter is that which becomes, that upon which the change is wrought. +That is form towards which the change operates. What becomes is +matter. What it becomes is form. Thus wood is matter if considered in +relation to the bed. For it is what becomes the bed. But wood is form +if considered in relation to the growing plant. For it is what the +plant becomes. The oak is the form of the acorn, but it is the matter +of the oak furniture. + +That matter and form are relative terms shows, too, that the form +cannot be merely the shape. For what is form in one aspect is matter +in another. But shape is never anything but shape. No doubt the shape +is part of the form, for the form in fact includes all the qualities +of the thing. But the shape is quite an unimportant part of the form. +For form includes organization, the relation of part to part, and the +subordination of all parts to the whole. The form is the sum of the +internal and external relations, the ideal framework, so to speak, +into which the thing is moulded. Form also includes function. For it +includes the final cause. Now the function of a thing is just what the +thing is for. And what it is for is the same as its end, or final +cause. {278} Therefore function is included in form. For example, the +function of a hand, its power of gripping, is part of its form. And +therefore, if it loses its function by being cut off from the arm, it +likewise loses its form. Even the dead hand, of course, has some form, +for every individual object is a compound of matter and form. But it +has lost the highest part of its form, and relatively to the living +hand it is mere matter, although, relatively to the flesh and bones of +which it is composed, it is still form. Clearly, then, form is not +merely shape. For the hand cut off does not lose its shape. + +The form includes all the qualities of the thing. The matter is what +has the qualities. For the qualities are all universals. A piece of +gold is yellow, and this means simply that it has this in common with +other pieces of gold, and other yellow objects. To say that anything +has a quality is immediately to place it in a class. And what the +class has in common is a universal. A thing without qualities cannot +exist, nor qualities without a thing. And this is the same as saying +that form and matter cannot exist separately. + +The matter, then, is the absolutely formless. It is the substratum +which underlies everything. It has, in itself, no character. It is +absolutely featureless, indefinite, without any quality. Whatever +gives a thing definiteness, character, quality, whatever makes it a +this or that, is its form. Consequently, there are no differences +within matter. One thing can only differ from another by having +different qualities. And as matter has no qualities, it has no +difference. And this in itself shows that the Aristotelian notion of +matter is not the same as our notion of physical substance. For, +according {279} to our modern usage, one kind of matter differs from +another, as brass from iron. But this is a difference of quality, and +for Aristotle all quality is part of the form. So in his view the +difference of brass from iron is not a difference of matter, but a +difference of form. Consequently, matter may become anything, +according to the form impressed upon it. It is thus the possibility of +everything, though it is actually nothing. It only becomes something +by the acquisition of form. And this leads directly to a most +important Aristotelian antithesis, that between potentiality and +actuality. Potentiality is the same as matter, actuality as form. For +matter is potentially everything. It may become everything. It is not +actually anything. It is a mere potentiality, or capacity of becoming +something. But whatever gives it definiteness as a this or that, +whatever makes it an actual thing, is its form. Thus the actuality of +a thing is simply its form. + +Aristotle claims, by means of the antithesis of potentiality and +actuality, to have solved the ancient problem of becoming, a riddle, +propounded by the Eleatics, which had never ceased to trouble Greek +thinkers. How is becoming possible? For being to pass into being is +not becoming, for it involves no change, and for not-being to pass +into being is impossible, since something cannot come out of nothing. +For Aristotle, the sharp line drawn between not-being and being does +not exist. For these absolute terms he substitutes the relative terms +potentiality and actuality, which shade off into each other. +Potentiality in his philosophy takes the place of not-being in +previous systems. It solves the riddle because it is not an absolute +not-being. It is {280} not-being inasmuch as it is actually nothing, +but it is being because it is potential being. Becoming, therefore, +does not involve the impossible leap from nothing to something. It +involves the transition from potential to actual being. All change, +all motion, is thus the passage of potentiality into actuality, of +matter into form. + +Since matter is in itself nothing, a bare unrealised capacity, while +form is actuality, the completed and perfected being, it follows that +form is something higher than matter. But matter is what becomes form. +In order of time, therefore, matter is earlier, form later. But in +order of thought, and in reality, it is otherwise. For when we say +that matter is the potentiality of what it is to become, this implies +that what it is to become is already present in it ideally and +potentially, though not actually. The end, therefore, is already +present in the beginning. The oak is in the acorn, ideally, otherwise +the oak could never come out of it. And since all becoming is towards +the end, and would not take place but for the end, the end is the +operative principle and true cause of becoming. Motion is produced not +by a mechanical propulsive force, pushing from behind, so to speak, +but by an ideal attractive force, drawing the thing towards its end, +as a piece of iron is drawn to the magnet. It is the end itself which +exerts this force. And, therefore, the end must be present at the +beginning, for if it were not present it could exert no force. Nay, +more. It is not only present in the beginning, it is anterior to it. +For the end is the cause of the motion, and the cause is logically +prior to its consequence. The end, or the principle of form, is thus +the absolute first in thought and reality, though it may be the last +in time. If, then, {281} we ask what, for Aristotle, is that ultimate +reality, that first principle, from which the entire universe flows, +the answer is, the end, the principle of form. And as form is the +universal, the Idea, we see that his fundamental thesis is the same as +Plato's. It is the one thesis of all idealism, namely, that thought, +the universal, reason, is the absolute being, the foundation of the +world. Where he differs from Plato is in denying that form has any +existence apart from the matter in which it exhibits itself. + +Now all this may strike the unsophisticated as very strange. That the +absolute being whence the universe flows should be described as that +which lies at the end of the development of the universe, and that +philosophy should proceed to justify this by asserting that the end is +really prior to the beginning, this is so far removed from the common +man's mode of thought, that it may appear mere paradox. It is, +however, neither strange nor paradoxical. It is essentially sound and +true, and it seems strange to the ordinary man only because it +penetrates so much deeper into things than he can. This thought is, in +fact, essential to a developed idealism, and till it is grasped no +advance can be made in philosophy. Whether it is understood is, +indeed, a good test of whether a man has any talent for philosophy or +not. The fact is that all philosophies of this sort regard time as +unreal, as an appearance. This being so, the relation of the absolute +being, or God, to the world cannot be a relation of time at all. The +common man's idea is that, if there is a first principle or God at +all, He must have existed before the world began, and then, somehow, +perhaps billions of years ago, something happened as a {282} result of +which the world came into being. The Absolute is thus conceived as the +cause, the world as the effect, and the cause always precedes its +effect in time. Or if, on the other hand, we think that the world +never had a beginning, the ordinary man's thought would lead him to +believe that, in that case, it is no longer necessary to assume a +first principle at all. But if time is a mere appearance, this whole +way of looking at things must be wrong. God is not related to the +world as cause to effect. It is not a relation of time at all. It is a +_logical_ relation. God is rather the logical premise, of which the +world is the conclusion, so that, God granted, the world follows +necessarily, just as, the premises granted, the conclusion follows. +This is the reason why, in discussing Plato, we said that it must be +possible to _deduce_ the world from his first principle. If the +Absolute were merely the cause of the world in time, it would not +explain the world, for, as I have so often pointed out, causes explain +nothing. But if the world be deducible from the Absolute, the world is +explained, a reason, not a cause, is given for it, just as the +premises constitute the reason for the conclusion. Now the conclusion +of a syllogism follows from the premises, that is, the premises come +first, the conclusion second. But the premise only comes first in +thought, not in time. It is a logical succession, not a +time-succession. Just in the same way, the Absolute, or in Aristotle's +language, the form, is logically first, but is not first in order of +time. And though it is the end, it is in thought the absolute +beginning, and is thus the foundation of the world, the first +principle from which the world flows. The objection may be, taken that +if the relation of the {283} Absolute to the world is not a +time-relation, then it can no more be the end than the beginning. This +objection is, as we shall see, a misunderstanding of Aristotle's +philosophy. Although things in time strive towards the end, yet the +absolute end is not in time at all, or, in other words, the end is +never reached. Its relation to the world as end is just as much a +logical, and not a time-relation, as its relation to the world as +beginning or absolute prius. As far as time is concerned, the universe +is without beginning or end. + +As the world-process is a continual elevation of matter into higher +and higher forms, there results the conception that the universe +exhibits a continuous scale of being. That is higher in the scale in +which form predominates, that lower in which matter outweighs form. At +the bottom of the scale will be absolutely formless matter, at the +top, absolutely matterless form. Both these extremes, however, are +abstractions. Neither of them exists, because matter and form cannot +be separated. Whatever exists comes somewhere between the two, and the +universe thus exhibits a process of continuous gradations. Motion and +change are produced by the effort to pass from the lower to the higher +under the attractive force of the end. + +That which comes at the top of the scale, absolute form, is called by +Aristotle, God. And the definitions of God's character follow from +this as a matter of course. First, since form is actuality, God alone +is absolutely actual. He alone is real. All existent things are more +or less unreal. The higher in the scale are the more real, as +possessing more form. The scale of being is thus also a scale of +reality, shading off through infinite gradations {284} from the +absolutely real, God, to the absolutely unreal, formless matter. +Secondly, since the principle of form contains the formal, the final, +and the efficient causes, God is all these. As formal cause, He is the +Idea. He is essentially thought, reason. As final cause, He is the +absolute end. He is that to which all beings strive. Each being has no +doubt its own end in itself. But as absolute end, God includes all +lower ends. And as the end of each thing is the completed perfection +of the thing, so, as absolute end, God is absolute perfection. Lastly, +as efficient cause, God is the ultimate cause of all motion and +becoming. He is the first mover. As such, He is Himself unmoved. That +the first mover should be itself unmoved is a necessary consequence of +Aristotle's conception of it as end and form. For motion is the +transition of a thing towards its end. The absolute end can have no +end beyond it, and therefore cannot be moved. Likewise motion is the +passage of matter into form. Absolute form cannot pass into any higher +form, and is therefore unmoved. But the argument which Aristotle +himself more frequently uses to establish the immovability of the +first mover is that, unless we so conceive it, no cause of motion +appears. The moving object is moved perhaps by another moving object. +The motion of the latter demands a further cause. If this further +cause is itself moving, we must again ask for the cause of its motion. +If this process goes on for ever, then motion is unexplained, and no +real cause of it has been shown. The real and ultimate cause must +therefore be unmoved. + +This last argument sounds as if Aristotle is now thinking in terms of +mechanism. It sounds as if he meant that {285} the first mover is +something at the beginning of time, which, so to speak, gave things a +push to start them off. This is not what Aristotle means. For the true +efficient cause is the final cause. And God is the first mover only in +His character as absolute end. As far as time is concerned, neither +the universe, nor the motion in it, ever had any beginning. Every +mechanical cause has its cause in turn, and so _ad infinitum_. God is +not a first cause, in our sense, that is, a first mechanical cause +which existed before the world, and created it. He is a teleological +cause working from the end. But as such, He is logically prior to all +beginning, and so is the first mover. And just as the universe has no +beginning in time, so it has no end in time. It will go on for ever. +Its end is absolute form, but this can never be reached, because if it +were, this would mean that absolute form would exist, whereas we have +seen that form cannot exist apart from matter. + +God is thought. But the thought of what? As absolute form, he is not +the form of matter, but the form of form. His matter, so to speak, is +form. Form, as the universal, is thought. And this gives us +Aristotle's famous definition of God as "the thought of thought." He +thinks only his own self. He is at once the subject and the object of +his thought. As mortal men think material things, as I now think the +paper on which I write, so God thinks thought. In more modern terms, +he is self-consciousness, the absolute subject-object. That God should +think anything other than thought is inconceivable, because the end of +all other thought is outside the thought itself. If I think this +paper, the end of my thought, the paper, is outside me. But the +thought of {286} God, as the absolute end, cannot have any end outside +itself. Were God to think anything else than thought, he would be +determined by that which is not himself. By way of further expression +of the same idea, Aristotle passes into figurative language. God, he +says, lives in eternal blessedness, and his blessedness consists in +the everlasting contemplation of his own perfection. + +A modern will naturally ask whether Aristotle's God is personal. It +does not do to be very dogmatic upon the point. Aristotle, like Plato, +never discusses the question. No Greek ever did. It is a modern +question. What we have to do, then, is to take the evidence on both +sides. The case for personality is that the language Aristotle uses +implies it. The very word God, used instead of the Absolute, or form, +conveys the idea of personality. And when he goes on to speak of God +living in eternal blessedness, these words, if taken literally, can +mean nothing except that God is a conscious person. If we say that +this language is merely figurative, it may be replied that Aristotle +on principle objects to figurative language, that he frequently +censures Plato for using it, that what he demands and sets out to +supply is exact, literal, scientific terminology, and that he is not +likely to have broken his own canons of philosophic expression by +using merely poetical phrases. + +To see the other side of the case, we must first ask what personality +means. Now without entering into an intricate discussion of this most +elusive idea, we may answer that personality at any rate implies an +_individual_ and _existent_ consciousness. But, in the first place, God is +absolute form, and form is the universal. What is universal, with no +particular in it, cannot be an individual. {287} God, therefore, +cannot be individual. Secondly, form without matter cannot exist. And +as God is form without matter, he cannot be called existent, though he +is absolutely real. God, therefore, is neither existent nor +individual. And this means that he is not a person. To degrade the +real to the level of the existent, to convert the universal into the +individual, is exactly the fault for which Aristotle blames Plato. It +is exactly the fault which it was the whole object of his philosophy +to remedy. If he thought that God is a person, he committed the same +fault himself in an aggravated form. + +We have, then, two hypotheses, both of which involve that Aristotle +was guilty of some inconsistency. If God is not a person, then +Aristotle's language is figurative, and his use of such language is +inconsistent with his rooted objection to its use. This, however, is, +after all, merely an inconsistency of language, and not of thought. It +does not mean that Aristotle really contradicted himself. It merely +means that, though he set himself to express his philosophy in +technical scientific terms, and to exclude figurative language, yet he +found himself compelled in a few passages to make use of it. There are +some metaphysical ideas so abstract, so abstruse, that it is almost +impossible to express them at all without the use of figures of +speech. Language was made by common men for common purposes, and this +fact often forces the philosopher to use terms which he knows only +figure forth his meaning without accurately expressing it. Perhaps +every philosophy in the world finds itself sometimes under this +necessity, and, if Aristotle did so, and was thereby technically +inconsistent with himself, it is no wonder, and involves no serious +blame upon him. + +{288} + +But the other hypothesis, that God is a person, means that Aristotle +committed a contradiction, not merely in words, but in thought, and +not merely as regards some unimportant detail, but as regards the +central thesis of his system. It means that he stultified himself by +making his conception of God absolutely contradict the essentials of +his system. For what is the whole of Aristotle's philosophy, put in a +nutshell? It is that the Absolute is the universal, but that the +universal does not exist apart from the particular. Plato supplied the +thought of the first clause of the sentence. Aristotle added the last +clause, and it is the essential of his philosophy. To assert that God, +the absolute form, exists as an individual, is flatly to contradict +this. It is not likely that Aristotle should have contradicted himself +in so vital a matter, and in a manner which simply means that his +system falls to the ground like a house of cards. + +My conclusion, then, is that it was not Aristotle's intention that +what he calls God should be regarded as a person. God is thought, but +not subjective thought. He is not thought existent in a mind, but +objective thought, real on its own account, apart from any mind which +thinks it, like Plato's Ideas. But Plato's mistake was to suppose that +because thought is real and objective, it must exist. Aristotle avoids +this error. The absolute thought is the absolutely real. But it does +not exist. With the concept of God the metaphysics of Aristotle +closes. + + + +4. Physics, or the Philosophy of Nature. + +The existent universe is a scale of being lying between the two +extremes of formless matter and matterless form. But this must not be +merely asserted, as a general {289} principle. It must be carried out +in detail. The passage of matter into form must be shown in its +various stages in the world of nature. To do this is the object of +Aristotle's Physics, or philosophy of nature. + +If nature is to be understood, we must keep in mind certain general +points of view. In the first place, since form includes end, the +entire world-process, as passage of matter into form, is essentially +movement towards ends. Everything in nature has its end and function. +Nothing is purposeless. Nature seeks everywhere to attain the best +possible. Everywhere we find evidences of design and of rational plan. +Aristotle's philosophy of nature is essentially teleological. This +does not, however, exclude the principle of mechanism, and to +investigate mechanical causes is part of the duty of science. But +mechanical causes turn out in the end to be teleological, because the +true efficient cause is the final cause. + +But if nothing in nature is aimless or useless, this is not to be +interpreted in a narrow anthropocentric spirit. It does not mean that +everything exists for the use of man, that the sun was created to give +him light by day, the moon by night, and that plants and animals exist +only for his food. It is true that, in a certain sense, everything +else sublunary is _for_ man. For man is the highest in the scale of +beings in this terrestrial sphere, and therefore as the higher end, he +includes all lower ends. But this does not exclude the fact that lower +beings have each its own end. They exist for themselves and not for +us. + +Another mistake which we must avoid is to suppose that the design in +nature means that nature is conscious of her designs, or, on the other +hand, that there is any {290} existent consciousness outside the world +which governs and controls it. The latter supposition is excluded by +the fact that God is not an existent conscious person, the former by +its own inherent absurdity. The only being upon this earth who is +conscious of his ends is man. Such animals as bees and ants appear to +work rationally, and their activities are clearly governed by design. +But it is not to be supposed that they are reasoning beings. They +attain their ends instinctively. And when we come to inorganic matter, +we find that even here its movements are purposive, but no one could +suppose them deliberate and conscious. These manifold activities of +lower nature are indeed the work of reason, but not of an existent or +self-conscious reason. And this means that instinct, and even +mechanical forces such as gravitation are, in their essence, reason. +It is not that they are created by reason, but that they are reason, +exhibiting itself in lower forms. In commenting upon Plato's dualism +of sense and reason, I remarked that any true philosophy, though +recognizing the distinction between sense and reason, must yet find +room for their identity, and must show that sense is but a lower form +of reason. This idea Aristotle thoroughly understood, and sought to +show, not merely that sense is reason, but even that the activities of +inorganic matter, such as gravitation, are so. In the result, nature, +though working through reason, is not conscious of the fact, does so +blindly and instinctively, and is compared to a creative artist, who +forms beautiful objects by instinct, or, as we should say, by +inspiration, without setting before his mind the end to be attained or +the rules to be observed in order to attain it. + +{291} + +In the process of nature, it is always form which impels, matter which +retards and obstructs. The entire world-movement is the effort of form +to mould matter, but, just because matter has in itself a power of +resistance, this effort does not always succeed. This is the reason +why form cannot exist without matter, because it can never wholly +overcome the clogging activity of matter, and therefore matter can +never be wholly moulded into form. And this explains, too, the +occasional occurrence in nature of freaks, monstrosities, abortions, +and unnatural births. In these the form has failed to mould the +matter. Nature has failed to attain her ends. Science, therefore, +should study the normal and natural rather than the abnormal and +monstrous. For it is in the normal that the ends of nature are to be +seen, and through them alone nature can be understood. Aristotle is +fond of using the words "natural" and "unnatural," but he uses them +always with this special meaning. That is natural which attains its +end, that in which the form successfully masters the matter. + +No doctrine of physics can ignore the fundamental notions of motion, +space, and time. Aristotle, therefore, finds it necessary to consider +these. Motion is the passage of matter into form, and it is of four +kinds. The first is motion which affects the substance of a thing, +origination and decease. Secondly, change of quality. Thirdly, change +of quantity, increase and decrease. Fourthly, locomotion, change of +place. Of these, the last is the most fundamental and important. + +Aristotle rejects the definition of space as the void. Empty space is +an impossibility. Hence, too, he disagrees with the view of Plato and +the Pythagoreans that {292} the elements are composed of geometrical +figures. And connected with this is his repudiation of the mechanical +hypothesis that all quality is founded upon quantity, or upon +composition and decomposition. Quality has a real existence of its +own. He rejects, also, the view that space is a physical thing. If +this were true, there would be two bodies occupying the same place at +the same time, namely the object and the space it fills. Hence there +is nothing for it but to conceive space as limit. Space is, therefore, +defined as the limit of the surrounding body towards what is +surrounded. As we shall see later, in another connexion, Aristotle did +not regard space as infinite. + +Time is defined as the measure of motion in regard to what is earlier +and later. It thus depends for its existence upon motion. If there +were no change in the universe, there would be no time. And since it +is the measuring or counting of motion, it also depends for its +existence upon a counting mind. If there were no mind to count, there +could be no time. This presents difficulties to us, if we conceive +that there was a time when conscious beings did not exist. But this +difficulty is non-existent for Aristotle, who believed that men and +animals have existed from all eternity. The essentials of time, +therefore, are two: change and consciousness. Time is the succession +of thoughts. If we object that the definition is bad because +succession already involves time, there is doubtless no answer +possible. + +As to the infinite divisibility of space and time, and the riddles +proposed thereupon by Zeno, Aristotle is of opinion that space and +time are potentially divisible {293} _ad infinitum_, but are not +actually so divided. There is nothing to prevent us from going on for +ever with the process of division, but space and time are not given in +experience as infinitely divided. + +After these preliminaries, we can pass on to consider the main subject +of physics, the scale of being. We should notice, in the first place, +that it is also a scale of values. What is higher in the scale of +being is of more worth, because the principle of form is more advanced +in it. It constitutes also a theory of development, a philosophy of +evolution. The lower develops into the higher. It does not, however, +so develop in time. That the lower form passes in due time into a +higher form is a discovery of modern times. Such a conception was +impossible for Aristotle. For him, genus and species are eternal. They +have neither beginning nor end. Individual men are born and die, but +the species man never dies, and has always existed upon the earth. The +same is true of plants and animals. And since man has always existed, +he cannot have evolved in time from a lower being. There is no room +here for Darwinism. In what sense, then, is this a theory of +development or evolution? The process involved is not a time-process, +it is a logical process, and the development is a logical development. +The lower always contains the higher potentially. The man is in the +ape ideally. The higher, again, contains the lower actually. The man +is all that the ape is, and more also. What is merely implicit in the +lower form is explicit in the higher. The form which is dimly seen +struggling to light in the lower, has realized itself in the higher. +The higher is the same thing as the lower, but it is the same thing in +a more {294} evolved state. The higher presupposes the lower and rests +upon it as foundation. The higher is the form of which the lower is +the matter. It actually is what the lower is struggling to become. +Hence the entire universe is one continuous chain. It is a process; +not a time-process, but an eternal process. The one ultimate reality, +God, reason, absolute form, eternally exhibits itself in every stage +of its development. All the stages, therefore, must exist for ever +side by side. + +Now the form of a thing is its organization. Hence to be higher in the +scale means to be more organized. The first distinction, therefore, +with which nature presents us is between the organic and the +inorganic. Aristotle was the discoverer of the idea of organism, as he +was also the inventor of the word. At the bottom of the scale of +being, therefore, is inorganic matter. Inorganic matter is the nearest +existent thing to absolutely formless matter, which, of course, does +not exist. In the inorganic world matter preponderates to such an +extent as almost to overwhelm form, and we can only expect to see the +universal exhibiting itself in it in a vague and dim way. What, then, +is its form? And this is the same as asking what its function, end, or +essential activity is. The end of inorganic matter is merely external +to it. Form has not truly entered into it at all, and remains outside +it. Hence the activity of inorganic matter can only be to move in +space towards its external end. This is the explanation of what we, in +modern times, call gravitation. But, according to Aristotle, every +element has its peculiar and natural motion; its end is conceived +merely spatially, and its activity is to move towards its "proper +place," and, having thus reached its end, it rests. The natural {295} +movement of fire is up. We may call this a principle of levitation, as +opposed to gravitation. Aristotle has been the subject of cheap +criticism on account of his frequent use of the words "natural" and +"unnatural." [Footnote 15] It is said that he was satisfied to explain +the operations of nature by simply labelling them "natural." If you +ask a quite uneducated person why heavy bodies fall, he may quite +possibly reply, "Oh! _naturally_ they fall." This simply means that +the man has never thought about the matter at all, and thinks whatever +is absolutely familiar to him is "natural" and needs no explanation. +It is like the feminine argument that a thing is so, "because it is." +It is assumed that Aristotle was guilty of a like futility. This is +not the case. His use of the word "natural" does not indicate lack of +thought. There is a thought, an idea, here. No doubt he was quite +wrong in many of his facts. Thus there is no such principle as +levitation in the universe. But there is a principle of gravitation, +and when he explains this by saying it is "natural" for earth to move +downwards, he means, not that the fact is familiar, but that the +principle of form, or the world-reason, can only exhibit itself here +so dimly as to give rise to a comparatively aimless and purposeless +movement in a straight line. Not absolutely purposeless, however, +because nothing in the world is such, and the purpose here is simply +the movement of matter towards its end. This may or may not be a true +explanation of gravity. But has anybody since ever explained it +better? + +[Footnote 15: See, _e.g._ Sir Alexander Grant's _Aristotle_ in the +Ancient Classics for English Readers Series (Blackwood), pages +119-121.] + +This gives us, too, the clue to the distinction between {296} the +inorganic and the organic. If inorganic matter is what has its end +outside itself, organic matter will be what has its end within itself. +This is the essential character of an organism, that its end is +internal to it. It is an inward self-developing principle. Its +function, therefore, can only be the actualisation, the +self-realization of this inward end. Whereas, therefore, inorganic +matter has no activity except spatial movement, organic matter has for +its activity growth, and this growth is not the mere mechanical +addition of extraneous matter, as we add a pound of tea to a pound of +tea. It is true growth from within. It is the making outward of what +is inward. It is the making explicit of what is implicit. It is the +making actual of what is potential in the embryo organism. + +The lowest in the scale of being is thus inorganic matter, and above +it comes organic matter, in which the principle of form becomes real +and definite as the inward organization of the thing. This inward +organization is the life, or what we call the soul, of the organism. +Even the human soul is nothing but the organization of the body. It +stands to the body in the relation of form to matter. With organism, +then, we reach the idea of living soul. But this living soul will +itself have lower and higher grades of being, the higher being a +higher realization of the principle of form. As the essential of +organism is self-realization, this will express itself first as +self-preservation. Self-preservation means first the preservation of +the individual, and this gives the function of nutrition. Secondly, it +means preservation of the species, and this gives the function of +propagation. The lowest grade in the organic kingdom will, therefore, +be {297} those organisms whose sole functions are to nourish +themselves, grow, and propagate their kind. These are plants. And we +may sum up this by saying that plants possess the nutritive soul. +Aristotle intended to write a treatise upon plants, which intention, +however, he never carried out. All that we have from him on plants is +scattered references in his other books. Had the promised treatise +been forthcoming, we cannot doubt what its plan would have been. +Aristotle would have shown, as he did in the case of animals, that +there are higher and lower grades of organism within the plant +kingdom, and he would have attempted to trace the development in +detail through all the then known species of plants. + +Next above plants in the scale of being come animals. Since the higher +always contains the lower, but exhibits a further realization of form +peculiar to itself, animals share with plants the functions of +nutrition and propagation. What is peculiar to them, the point in +which they rise above plants, is the possession of sensation. +Sense-perception is therefore the special function of animals, and +they possess, therefore, the nutritive and the sensitive souls. With +sensation come pleasure and pain, for pleasure is a pleasant +sensation, and pain the opposite. Hence arises the impulse to seek the +pleasant and avoid the painful. This can only be achieved by the power +of movement. Most animals, accordingly, have the power of locomotion, +which is not possessed by plants, because they do not require it, +since they are not sensitive to pleasure and pain. In his books upon +animals Aristotle attempts to carry out the principle of development +in detail, showing what are the higher, and what the lower, animal +organisms. This he connects with the {298} methods of propagation +employed by different animals. Sex-generation is the mark of a higher +organism than parthenogenesis. + +The scale of being proceeds from animals to man. The human organism, +of course, contains the principles of all lower organisms. Man +nourishes himself, grows, propagates his kind, moves about, and is +endowed with sense-perception. But he must have in addition his own +special function, which constitutes his advance beyond the animals. +This is reason. Reason is the essential, the proper end and activity +of man. His soul is nutritive, sensitive, and rational. In man, +therefore, the world-reason which could only appear in inorganic +matter as gravitation and levitation, in plants as nutrition, in +animals as sensation, appears at last in its own proper form, as what +it essentially is, reason. The world-reason, so long struggling +towards the light, has reached it, has become actual, has become +existent, in man. The world-process has attained its proximate end. + +Within human consciousness there are lower and higher grades, and +Aristotle has taken great pains to trace these from the bottom to the +top. These stages of consciousness are what are ordinarily called +"faculties." But Aristotle notes that it is nonsense to talk, as Plato +did, of the "parts" of the soul. The soul, being a single indivisible +being, has no parts. They are different aspects of the activity of one +and the same being; different stages of its development. They can no +more be separated than the convex and concave aspects of a curve. The +lowest faculty, if we must use that word, is sense-perception. Now +what we perceive in a thing is its qualities. Perception tells us that +a piece of gold is {299} heavy, yellow, etc. The underlying substratum +which supports the qualities cannot be perceived. This means that the +matter is unknowable, the form knowable, for the qualities are part of +the form. Sense-perception, therefore, takes place when the object +stamps its form upon the soul. This is important for what it implies +rather than what it states. It shows the thoroughly idealistic trend +of Aristotle's thought. For if the form is what is knowable in a +thing, the more form there is, the more knowable it will be. Absolute +form, God, will be the absolutely knowable. That the Absolute is what +alone is completely knowable, intelligible, and comprehensible, and +the finite and material comparatively unknowable, is a point of view +essential to idealism, and stands in marked contrast to the popular +idea of rationalism that the Absolute is unknowable, and matter +knowable. For idealism, the Absolute is reason, thought. What can be +more thoroughly intelligible than reason? What can thought +understand, if not thought? This, of course, is not stated by +Aristotle. But it is implied in his theory of sense-perception. + +Next in the scale above the senses comes the common sense. This has +nothing to do with what we understand by that phrase in every-day +language. It means the central sensation-ganglion in which isolated +sensations meet, are combined, and form a unity of experience. We saw, +in considering Plato, that the simplest kind of knowledge, such as, +"this paper is white," involves, not only isolated sensations, but +their comparison and contrast. Bare sensations would not even make +objects. For every object is a combined bundle of sensations. What +thus combines the various sensations, and in {300} particular those +received from different sense-organs, what compares and contrasts +them, and turns them from a blind medley of phantasms into a definite +experience, a single cosmos, is the common sense. Its organ is the +heart. + +Above the common sense is the faculty of imagination. By this +Aristotle means, not the creative imagination of the artist, but the +power, which everyone possesses, of forming mental images and +pictures. This is due to the excitation in the sense-organ continuing +after the object has ceased to affect it. + +The next faculty is memory. This is the same as imagination, except +that there is combined with the image a recognition of it as a copy of +a past sense-impression. + +Recollection, again, is higher than memory. Memory images drift +purposelessly through the mind. Recollection is the deliberate evoking +of memory-images. + +From recollection we pass to the specifically human faculty of reason. +But reason itself has two grades. The lower is called passive reason, +the higher active reason. The mind has the power of thought before it +actually thinks. This latent capacity is passive reason. The mind is +here like a smooth piece of wax which has the power to receive +writing, but has not received it. The positive activity of thought +itself is active reason. The comparison with wax must not mislead us +into supposing that the soul only receives its impressions from +sensation. It is pure thought which writes upon the wax. + +Now the sum of the faculties in general we call the soul. And the +soul, we saw, is simply the organization {301} or form, of the body. +As form is inseparable from matter, the soul cannot exist without the +body. It is the function of the body. It is to the body what sight is +to the eye. And in the same sense Aristotle denies the doctrine of +Pythagoras and Plato that the soul reincarnates itself in new bodies, +particularly in the bodies of animals. What is the function of one +thing cannot become the function of another. Exactly what the soul is +to the body the music of the flute is to the flute itself. It is the +form of which the flute is the matter. It is, to speak metaphorically, +the soul of the flute. And you might as well talk, says Aristotle, of +the art of flute-playing becoming reincarnate in the blacksmith's +anvil, as of the soul passing into another body. This would seem also +to preclude any doctrine of immortality. For the function perishes +with the thing. We shall return to that point in a moment. But we may +note, meanwhile, that Aristotle's theory of the soul is not only a +great advance upon Plato's, but is a great advance upon popular +thinking of the present day. The ordinary view of the soul, which was +Plato's view, is that the soul is a sort of thing. No doubt it is +non-material and supersensuous. But still it is a thing; it can be put +into a body and taken out of it, as wine can be put into or taken out +of a bottle. The connection between body and soul is thus purely +mechanical. They are attached to each other by no necessary bond, but +rather by force. They have, in their own natures, no connexion with +each other, and it is difficult to see why the soul ever entered a +body, if it is in its nature something quite separate. But Aristotle's +view is that the soul, as form of the body, is not separable from it. +You cannot have {302} a soul without a body. The connection between +them is not mechanical, but organic. The soul is not a thing which +comes into the body and goes out of it. It is not a thing at all. It +is a function. + +But to this doctrine Aristotle makes an exception in favour of the +active reason. All the lower faculties perish with the body, including +the passive reason. Active reason is imperishable and eternal. It has +neither beginning nor end. It comes into the body from without, and +departs from it at death. God being absolute reason, man's reason +comes from God, and returns to him, after the body ceases to function. +But before we hail this as a doctrine of personal immortality, we had +best reflect. All the lower faculties perish at death, and this +includes memory. Now memory is an essential of personality. Without +memory our experiences would be a succession of isolated sensations, +with no connecting link. What connects my last with my present +experience is that my last experience was "mine." To be mine it must +be remembered. Memory is the string upon which isolated experiences +are strung together, and which makes them into that unity I call +myself, my personality. If memory perishes, there can be no personal +life. And it must be remembered that Aristotle does not mean merely +that, in that future life--if we persist in calling it such--the +memory of this life is obliterated. He means that in the future life +itself reason has no memory of itself from moment to moment. We cannot +be dogmatic about what Aristotle himself thought. He seems to avoid +the question. He probably shrank from disturbing popular beliefs on +the subject. We have, at any rate, no definite pronouncement from +{303} him. All we can say is that his doctrine does not provide the +material for belief in personal immortality. It expressly removes the +material in that it denies the persistence of memory. Moreover, if +Aristotle really thought that reason is a thing, which goes in and out +of the body, an exception, in the literal sense, to his general +doctrine of soul, all we can say is that he undergoes a sudden drop in +the philosophic scale. Having propounded so advanced a theory, he +sinks back to the crude view of Plato. And as this is not likely, the +most probable explanation is that he is here speaking figuratively, +perhaps with the intention of propitiating the religious and avoiding +any rude disturbance of popular belief. If so, the statements that +active reason is immortal, comes from God, and returns to God, mean +simply that the world-reason is eternal, and that man's reason is the +actualization of this eternal reason, and in that sense "comes from +God" and returns to Him. We may add, too, that since God, though real, +is not to be regarded as an existent individual, our return to Him +cannot be thought as a continuation of individual existence. Personal +immortality is inconsistent with the fundamentals of Aristotle's +system. We ought not to suppose that he contradicted himself in this +way. Yet if Aristotle used language which seems to imply personal +immortality, this is neither meaningless nor dishonest. It is as true +for him as for others that the soul is eternal. But eternal does not +mean everlasting in time. It means timeless. And reason, even our +reason, is timeless. The soul has eternity in it. It is "eternity in +an hour." And it is this which puts the difference between man and the +brutes. + +{304} + +We have traced the scale of being from inorganic matter, through +plants and animals, to man. What then? What is the next step? Or does +the scale stop there? Now there is a sort of break in Aristotle's +system at this point, which has led many to say that man is the top of +the scale. The rest of Aristotle's physics deal with what is outside +our earth, such as the stars and planets. And they deal with them +quite as if they were a different subject, having little or nothing to +do with the terrestrial scale of being which we have been considering. +But here we must not forget two facts. The first is that Aristotle's +writings have come down to us mutilated, and in many cases unfinished. +The second is that Aristotle had a curious habit of writing separate +monographs on different parts of his system, and omitting to point out +any connexion between them, although such a connexion undoubtedly +exists. + +Now although Aristotle himself does not say it, there are several good +reasons for thinking that the true interpretation of his meaning is +that the scale of being does not stop at man, that there is no gap in +the chain here, but that it proceeds from man through planets and +stars--which Aristotle, like Plato, regarded as divine beings--right +up to God himself. In the first place, this is required by the logic +of his system. The scale has formless matter at the bottom and +matterless form at the top. It should proceed direct from one to the +other. It is essential to his philosophy that the universe is a single +continuous chain. There is no place for such a hiatus between man and +the higher beings. Secondly, it is not as if terrestrial life formed a +scale, and celestial beings were all on a par, having among themselves +no {305} scale of higher and lower. This is not the case. The heavenly +bodies have grades among themselves. The higher are related to the +lower as form to matter. Thus stars are higher than planets. So that +if we suppose that evolution stops at man, what we have is a gap in +the middle, a scale below it, and a scale above it. It is like a +bridge over a sheet of water, the two ends of which are intact, but +which is broken down in the middle. The natural completion of this +scheme involves the filling up of the gap. Thirdly, we have another +very important piece of evidence. With his valuable idea of evolution +Aristotle combined another very curious, and no doubt, absurd, theory. +This was that in the scale of the universe the lowest existence is to +be found in the middle, the highest at the periphery, and that in +general the higher is always outside the lower, so that the spatial +universe is a system of concentric spheres, the outer sphere being +related to the inner sphere as higher to lower, as form to matter. At +the centre of the spherical universe is our earth. Earth, as the +lowest element, is in the middle. Then comes a layer of water, then of +air, then of fire. Among the heavenly bodies there are fifty-six +spheres. The stars are outside the planets and are therefore higher +beings. And in conformity with this scheme, the supreme being, God, is +outside the outermost sphere. Now it is obvious that, in this scheme, +the passage from the centre of the earth to the stars forms a spatial +continuity, and it is impossible to resist the conclusion that it also +forms a logical continuity, that is, that there is no break in the +chain of evolution. + +Noting that this is not what Aristotle in so many words says, but that +it is our interpretation of his {306} intention, which is almost +certainly correct, we conclude that man is not the top of the scale. +Next to him come the heavenly bodies. The planets include the sun and +the moon, which, revolve round the earth in a direction opposite to +that of the stars. Next in the scale come the stars. We need not go +into details of the fifty-six spheres. The stars and planets are +divine beings. But this is only a comparative term. Man, as the +possessor of reason, is also divine, but the heavenly bodies +infinitely more so. And this means that they are more rational than +man, and so higher in the scale. They live an absolutely blessed and +perfect life. They are immortal and eternal, because they are the +supreme self-realization of the eternal reason. It is only upon this +earth that death and corruption occur, a circumstance which has no +doubt emphasized that view of Aristotle's philosophy which holds the +gap between man and the stars to be a real one. The heavenly bodies +are not composed of the four elements, but of a fifth, a quintessence, +which is called ether. Like all elements it must have its natural +motion. And as it is the finest and most perfect, its motion must be +perfect. And it must be an eternal motion, because the stars are +eternal beings. It cannot be motion in a straight line, because that +never comes to an end, and so is never perfect. Circular motion alone +is perfect. And it is eternal because its end and its beginning are +one. Hence the natural motion of ether is circular, and the stars move +in perfect circles. + +Leaving the stars behind, we reach the summit of the long ladder from +matter to form. This is the absolute form, God. As formless matter is +not an existent thing, nor is matterless form. God, therefore, is not +in the {307} world of space and time at all. But it is one of the +curiosities of thought that Aristotle nevertheless gives him a place +outside the outermost sphere. What is outside the sphere is, +therefore, not space. All space and time are inside this globular +universe. Space is therefore finite. And God must be outside the +outermost sphere because he is the highest being, and the higher +always comes outside the lower. + +We have now described the entire scale of evolution. Looking back upon +it, we can see its inner significance. The Absolute is reason, +matterless form. Everything in the world, therefore, is, in its +essence, reason. If we wish to know the essential nature even of this +clod of earth, the answer is that it is reason, although this view is +not consistently developed by Aristotle, since he allows that matter +is a separate principle which cannot be reduced to form. The whole +universal process of things is nothing but the struggle of reason to +express itself, to actualize itself, to become existent in the world. +This it definitely does, for the first time proximately in man, and +completely in the stars. It can only express itself in lower beings as +sensation (animals), as nutrition (plants), or as gravitation and its +opposite (inorganic matter). + +The value of Aristotle's theory of evolution is immense. It is not the +details that signify. The application of the principle in the world of +matter and life could not be carried out satisfactorily in the then +state of physical science. It could not be carried out with perfection +even now. Omniscience alone could give finality to such a scheme. But +it is the principle itself which matters. And that it is one of the +most valuable conceptions in {308} philosophy will perhaps be more +evident if we compare it, firstly, with modern scientific theories of +evolution and secondly, with certain aspects of Hindu pantheism. + +What has Aristotle in common with such a writer a Herbert Spencer? +According to Spencer, evolution is a movement from the indefinite, +incoherent, and homogeneous, to the definite, coherent, and +heterogeneous. Aristotle has all this, though his words are different. +He calls it a movement from matter to form. Form he describes as +whatever gives definiteness to a thing. Matter is the indefinite +substrate, form gives it definiteness. Hence for him too the higher +being is more definite because it has more form. That matter is the +homogeneous, form the heterogeneous, follows from this. We saw that +there are in matter itself no differences, because there are no +qualities. And this is the same as saying it is homogeneous. +Heterogeneity, that is, differentiation, is introduced by form. +Coherence is the same thing as organization. Aristotle has himself +defined the form of a thing as its organization. For him, as for +Spencer, the higher being is simply that which is more organized. +Every theory of evolution depends fundamentally upon the idea of +organism. Aristotle invented the idea and the word. Spencer carried it +no further, though the more advanced physical knowledge of his day +enabled him to illustrate it more copiously. + +But of course the great difference between Aristotle and the moderns, +is that the former did not guess, what the latter have discovered, +namely that evolution is not only a logical development, but is a fact +in time. Aristotle knew what was meant by the higher and lower +organism as well as Darwin, but he did not know, that the latter {309} +actually turns into the former in the course of years. But this, +though the most obvious, is not really the most important difference +between Spencer and Aristotle. The real difference is that Aristotle +penetrated far more deeply into the philosophy of evolution than +modern science does; that, in fact, modern science has no philosophy +of evolution at all. For the fundamental problem here is, if we speak +of higher and lower beings, what rational ground have we for calling +them higher and lower? That the lower passes in time into the higher +is no doubt a very interesting fact to discover, but it dwindles into +insignificance beside the problem just indicated, because, on the +solution of that problem it depends whether the universe is to be +regarded as futile, meaningless, and irrational, or whether we are to +see in it order, plan, and purpose. Is Spencer's doctrine a theory of +development at all? Or is it not rather simply a theory of change? +Something resembling an ape becomes a man. Is there development here, +that is, is it a movement from something really lower to something +really higher? Or is it merely change from one indifferent thing to +another? Is there improvement, or only difference? In the latter case, +it makes not the slightest difference whether the ape becomes man, or +man becomes an ape. The one is as good as the other. In either case, +it is merely a change from Tweedledum to Tweedledee. The change is +meaningless, and has no significance. + +The modern doctrine of evolution can only render the world more +intelligible, can only develop into a philosophy of evolution, by +showing that there is evolution and not merely change, and this it can +only do by {310} giving a rational basis for the belief that some +forms of existence are higher than others. To put the matter bluntly, +why is a man higher than a horse, or a horse than a sponge? Answer +that, and you have a philosophy of evolution. Fail to answer it, and +you have none. Now the man in the street will say that man is higher +than the horse, because he not merely eats grass, but thinks, +deliberates, possesses art, science, religion, morality. Ask him why +these things are higher than eating grass, and he has no answer. From +him, then, we turn to Spencer, and there we find a sort of answer. Man +is higher because he is more organized. But why is it better to be +more organized? Science, as such, has no answer. If pressed in this +way, science may of course turn round and say: "there is in the +reality of things no higher and no lower; what I mean by higher and +lower is simply more and less organized; higher and lower are mere +metaphors; they are the human way of looking at things; we naturally +call higher what is nearest ourselves; but from the absolute point of +view there is no higher and lower." But this is to reduce the universe +to a madhouse. It means that there is no purpose, no reason, in +anything that happens. The universe, in this case, is irrational. No +explanation of it is possible. Philosophy is futile, and not only +philosophy, but morality and everything else. If there is really no +higher and lower, there is no better and no worse. It is just as good +to be a murderer as to be a saint. Evil is the same as good. Instead +of striving to be saints, statesmen, philosophers, we may as well go +and play marbles, because all these values of higher and lower are +mere delusions, "the human way of looking at things." + +{311} + +Spencer then has no answer to the question why it is better to be more +organized. So we turn at last to Aristotle. He has an answer. He sees +that it is meaningless to talk of development, advance, higher and +lower, except in relation to an end. There is no such thing as advance +unless it is an advance towards something. A body moving purposelessly +in a straight line through infinite space does not advance. It might +as well be here as a mile hence. In either case it is no nearer to +anything. But if it is moving towards a definite point, we can call +this advance. Every mile it moves it gets nearer to its end. So, if we +are to have a philosophy of evolution, it must be teleological. If +nature is not advancing towards an end, there is no nearer and +further, no higher and lower, no development. What then is the end? It +is the actualization of reason, says Aristotle. The primal being is +eternal reason, but this is not existent. It must come to exist. It +first enunciates itself vaguely as gravitation. But this is far off +from its end, which is the existence of reason, as such, in the world. +It comes nearer in plants and animals. It is proximately reached in +man, for man is the existent reason. But there is no question of the +universe coming to a stop, when it reaches its end--(the usual +objection to teleology). For the absolute end, absolute form, can +never be reached. The higher is thus the more rational, the lower the +less rational. Now if we try to go on asking, "why is it better to be +more rational?" we find we cannot ask such a question. The word "why" +means that we want a reason. And our question is absurd because we are +asking a reason for reason. Why is it better to be rational means +simply, "how is reason rational." To {312} doubt it is a +self-contradiction. Or, to put the same thing in another way, reason +is the Absolute. And to ask why it is better to be rational is to +demand that the ultimate should be expressed in terms of something +beyond it. Hence modern science has no philosophy of evolution, +whereas Aristotle has. [Footnote 16] + +[Footnote 16: See H. S. Macran's _Hegel's Doctrine of Formal Logic_ +(Clarendon Press), Introduction, section on the Conception of +Evolution, to which I am much indebted in the above paragraphs.] + +The main idea of pantheism is that everything is God. The clod of +earth is divine because it is a manifestation of Deity. Now this idea +is all very well, and is in fact essential to philosophy. We find it +in Aristotle himself, since the entire world is, for him, the +actualization of reason, and reason is God. But this is also a very +dangerous idea, if not supplemented by a rationally grounded scale of +values. No doubt everything is, in a sense, God. But if we leave it at +this, it would follow that, since everything is equally divine, there +is no higher and lower. If the clod of earth, like the saintliest man, +is God, and there is no more to say of the matter, then how is the +saint higher than the clod of earth? Why should one ever struggle +towards higher things, when in reality all are equally high? Why avoid +evil, when evil is as much a manifestation of God as good? Mere +pantheism must necessarily end in this calamitous view. And these +deplorable effects explain the fact that Hinduism, with all its high +thinking, finds room for the worship of cows and snakes, and, with all +its undoubted moral elevation, yet allows into its fold the grossest +abominations. Both these features are due to the pantheistic placing +of all things on a par as equally {313} divine. Not of course that +Hinduism has not a sort of doctrine of evolution, a belief in a higher +and lower. As everyone knows, it admits the belief that in successive +incarnations the soul may mount higher and higher till it perhaps +rejoins the common source of all things. There is probably no race of +man so savage that it does not instinctively feel that there is a +higher and lower, a better and worse, in things. But the point is +that, although Hinduism has its scale of values, and its doctrine of +development, it has no rational foundation for these, and though it +has the idea of higher and lower, yet, because this is without +foundation, it lets it slip, it never grips the idea, and so easily +slides into the view that all is equally divine. The thought that all +is God, and the thought that there are higher and lower beings, are, +on the surface, opposed and inconsistent theories. Yet both are +necessary, and it is the business of philosophy to find a +reconciliation. This Aristotle does, but Hinduism fails to do. It +asserts both, but fails to bring them to unity. Now it asserts one +view, and again at another time it asserts the other. And this, of +course, is connected with the general defect of oriental thinking, its +vagueness. Everything is seen, but seen in a haze, in which all things +appear one, in which shapes flow into another, in which nothing has an +outline, in which even vital distinctions are obliterated. Hence it is +that, though oriental thought contains, in one way or another, +practically all philosophical ideas, it grips none, and can hold +nothing fast. It seizes its object, but its flabby grasp relaxes and +slips off. Hinduism, like modern science, has its doctrine of +evolution. But it has no philosophy of evolution. + + + +{314} + +5. Ethics. + +_(a) The Individual_. + +A strong note of practical moderation pervades the ethics of +Aristotle. While Plato's ethical teaching transcended the ordinary +limits of human life, and so lost itself in ideal Utopias, Aristotle, +on the other hand, sits down to make practical suggestions: He wishes +to enquire what the good is, but by this he means, not some ideal good +impossible of attainment upon this earth, but rather that good which, +in all the circumstances in which men find themselves, ought to be +realizable. The ethical theories of Plato and Aristotle are thus +characteristic of the two men. Plato despised the world of sense, and +sought to soar altogether beyond the common life of the senses. +Aristotle, with his love of facts and of the concrete, keeps close +within the bounds of actual human experience. + +The first question for ethics is the nature of the _summum bonum_. We +desire one thing for the sake of a second, we desire that for the sake +of a third. But if this series of means and ends goes on _ad +infinitum_, then all desire and all action are futile and purposeless. +There must be some one thing which we desire, not for the sake of +anything else, but on its own account. What is this end in itself, +this _summum bonum_, at which all human activity ultimately aims. +Everybody, says Aristotle, is agreed about the name of this end. It is +happiness. What all men seek, what is the motive of all their actions, +that which they desire for the sake of itself and nothing beyond, is +happiness. But though all agree as to the name, beyond that there is +no agreement. Philosophers, {315} no less than the vulgar, differ as +to what this word happiness means. Some say it is a life of pleasure. +Others say it consists in the renunciation of pleasures. Some +recommend one life, some another. + +We must repeat here the warning which was found necessary in the case +of Plato, who also called the _summum bonum_ happiness. Aristotle's +doctrine is no more to be confused with modern utilitarianism than is +Plato's. Moral activity is usually accompanied by a subjective feeling +of enjoyment. In modern times the word happiness connotes the feeling +of enjoyment. But for the Greeks it was the moral activity which the +word signified. For Aristotle an action is not good because it yields +enjoyment. On the contrary, it yields enjoyment because it is good. +The utilitarian doctrine is that the enjoyment is the ground of the +moral value. But, for Aristotle, the enjoyment is the consequence of +the moral value. Hence when he tells us that the highest good is +happiness, he is giving us no information regarding its nature, but +merely applying a new name to it. We have still to enquire what the +nature of the good is. As he himself says, everyone agrees upon the +name, but the real question is what this name connotes. + +Aristotle's solution of this problem follows from the general +principles of his philosophy. We have seen that, throughout nature, +every being has its proper end, and the attainment of this end is its +special function. Hence the good for each being must be the adequate +performance of its special function. The good for man will not consist +in the pleasure of the senses. Sensation is the special function of +animals, but not of man. Man's special function is reason. Hence the +proper {316} activity of reason is the _summum bonum_, the good for +man. Morality consists in the life of reason. But what precisely that +means we have still to see. + +Man is not only a reasoning animal. As the higher being, he contains +within himself the faculties of the lower beings also. Like plants he +is appetitive, like animals, sensitive. The passions and appetites are +an organic part of his nature. Hence virtue will be of two kinds. The +highest virtues will be found in the life of reason, and the life of +thought, philosophy. These intellectual virtues are called by +Aristotle dianoetic. Secondly, the ethical virtues proper will consist +in the submission of the passions and appetites to the control of +reason. The dianoetic virtues are the higher, because in them man's +special function alone is in operation, and also because the thinking +man most resembles God, whose life is a life of pure thought. + +Happiness, therefore, consists in the combination of dianoetic and +ethical virtues. They alone are of absolute value to man. Yet, though +he places happiness in virtue, Aristotle, in his broad and practical +way, does not overlook the fact that external goods and circumstances +have a profound influence upon happiness, and cannot be ignored, as +the Cynics attempted to ignore them. Not that Aristotle regards +externals as having any value in themselves. What alone is good in +itself, is an end in itself, is virtue. But external goods help a man +in his quest of virtue. Poverty, sickness, and misfortune, on the +other hand, hinder his efforts. Therefore, though externals are not +goods in themselves, they may be a means towards the good. Hence they +are not to be despised and rejected. Riches, friends, health, {317} +good fortune, are not happiness. But they are negative conditions of +it. With them happiness is within our grasp. Without them its +attainment is difficult. They will be valued accordingly. + +Aristotle says little in detail of the dianoetic virtues. And we may +turn at once to the main subject of his moral system, the ethical +virtues. These consist in the governance of the passions by reason. +Socrates was wrong in supposing that virtue is purely intellectual, +that nothing save knowledge is needed for it, and that if a man thinks +right he must needs do right. He forgot the existence of the passions, +which are not easily controlled. A man may reason perfectly, his +reason may point him to the right path, but his passions may get the +upper hand and lead him out of it. How then is reason to gain control +over the appetites? Only by practice. It is only by continual effort, +by the constant exercise of self-control, that the unruly passions can +be tamed. Once brought under the yoke, their control becomes habit. +Aristotle lays the utmost emphasis on the importance of habit in +morality. It is only by cultivating good habits that a man becomes +good. + +Now if virtue consists in the control of the appetites by reason, it +thus contains two constituents, reason and appetite. Both must be +present. There must be passions, if they are to be controlled. Hence +the ascetic ideal of rooting out the passions altogether is +fundamentally wrong. It overlooks the fact that the higher form does +not exclude the lower--that were contrary to the conception of +evolution--it includes and transcends it. It forgets that the passions +are an organic part of man, and that to destroy them is to do injury +to his {318} nature by destroying one of its essential members. The +passions and appetites are, in fact, the matter of virtue, reason its +form, and the mistake of asceticism is that it destroys the matter of +virtue, and supposes that the form can subsist by itself. Virtue means +that the appetites must be brought under control, not that they must +be eradicated. Hence there are two extremes to be avoided. It is +extreme, on the one hand, to attempt to uproot the passions; and it is +extreme, on the other, to allow them to run riot. Virtue means +moderation. It consists in hitting the happy mean as regards the +passions, in not allowing them to get the upper hand of reason, and +yet in not being quite passionless and apathetic. From this follows +the famous Aristotelian doctrine of virtue as the mean between two +extremes. Every virtue lies between two vices, which are the excess +and defect of appetite respectively. + +What is the criterion here? Who is to judge? How are we to know what +is the proper mean in any matter? Mathematical analogies will not help +us. It is not a case of drawing a straight line from one extreme to +the other, and finding the middle point by bisection. And Aristotle +refuses to lay down any rule of thumb in the matter. There is no +golden rule by virtue of which we can tell where the proper mean is. +It all depends on circumstances, and on the person involved. What is +the proper mean in one case is not the proper mean in another. What is +moderate for one man is immoderate for his neighbour. Hence the matter +must be left to the good judgment of the individual. A sort of fine +tact, good sense, is required to know the mean, which Aristotle calls +"insight." This insight is both the cause and the {319} effect of +virtue. It is the cause, because he who has it knows what he ought to +do. It is the effect, because it is only developed by practice. Virtue +renders virtue easy. Each time a man, by use of his insight, rightly +decides upon the mean, it becomes easier for him to discriminate next +time. + +Aristotle attempts no systematic classification of the virtues, as +Plato had done. This sort of schematism is contrary to the practical +character of his thought. He sees that life is far too complex to be +treated in this way. The proper mean is different in every different +case, and therefore there are as many virtues as there are +circumstances in life. His list of virtues, therefore, is not intended +to be exhaustive. It is merely illustrative. Though the number of +virtues is infinite, there are certain well-recognized kinds of good +action, which are of such constant importance in life that they have +received names. By the example of some of these virtues Aristotle +illustrates his doctrine of the mean. For instance, courage is the +mean between cowardice and rashness. That is to say, cowardice is the +defect of boldness, rashness the excess, courage the reasonable +medium. Munificence is the mean between pettiness and vulgar +profusion, good temper between spiritlessness and irascibility, +politeness between rudeness and obsequiousness, modesty between +shamelessness and bashfulness, temperance between insensibility and +intemperance. + +Justice hardly comes into the scheme; it is rather a virtue of the +State than of the individual, and it has been thought by some that the +book devoted to it in the "Ethics" has been misplaced. Justice is of +two kinds, distributive and corrective. Its fundamental idea {320} is +the assignment of advantages and disadvantages according to merit. +Distributive justice assigns honours and rewards according to the +worth of the individuals involved. Corrective justice has to do with +punishment. If a man improperly obtains an advantage, things must be +equalized by the imposition on him of a corresponding disadvantage. +Justice, however, is a general principle, and no general principle is +equal to the complexity of life. Special cases cannot be foreseen, The +necessary adjustment of human relations arising from this cause is +equity. + +Aristotle is a pronounced supporter of the freedom of the will. He +censures Socrates because the latter's theory of virtue practically +amounts to a denial of freedom. According to Socrates, whoever thinks +right must necessarily do right. But this is equivalent to denying a +man's power to choose evil. And if he cannot choose evil, he cannot +choose good. For the right-thinking man does not do right voluntarily, +but necessarily. Aristotle believed, on the contrary, that man has the +choice of good and evil. The doctrine of Socrates makes all actions +involuntary. But in Aristotle's opinion only actions performed under +forcible compulsion are involuntary. Aristotle did not, however, +consider the special difficulties in the theory of free will which in +modern times have made it one of the most thorny of all philosophical +problems. Hence his treatment of the subject is not of great value to +us. + + + +_(b) The State_. + +Politics is not a separate subject from Ethics. It is merely another +division of the same subject. And {321} this, not merely because +politics is the ethics of the State as against the individual, but +because the morality of the individual really finds its end in the +State, and is impossible without it. Aristotle agrees with Plato that +the object of the State is the virtue and happiness of the citizens, +which are impossible except in the State. For man is a political +animal by nature, as is proved by his possession of speech, which +would be useless to any save a social being. And the phrase "by +nature" means the same here as elsewhere in Aristotle. It means that +the State is the end of the individual, and that activity in the State +is part of man's essential function. The State, in fact, is the form, +the individual, the matter. The State provides both an education in +virtue and the necessary opportunities for its exercise. Without it +man would not be man at all. He would be a savage animal. + +The historical origin of the State Aristotle finds in the family. At +first there is the individual. The individual gets himself a mate, and +the family arises. The family, in Aristotle's opinion, includes the +slaves: for, like Plato, he sees no wrong in the institution of +slavery. A number of families, joining together, develop into a +village community, and a number of village communities into a _polis_ +(city), or State. Beyond the city, of course, the Greek idea of the +State did not extend. + +Such then is the historical origin of the State. But it is of capital +importance to understand that, in Aristotle's opinion, this question +of historical origin has nothing on earth to do with the far more +important question what the State essentially is. It is no mere +mechanical aggregate of families and village communities, {322} The +_nature_ of the State is not explained in this way. For though the +family is prior to the State in order of time, the State is prior to +the family and to the individual in order of thought, and in reality. +For the State is the end, and the end is always prior to that of which +it is the end. The state as form is prior to the family as matter, and +in the same way the family is prior to the individual. And as the +explanation of things is only possible by teleology, it is the end +which explains the beginning, it is the State which explains the +family, and not vice versa. + +The true nature of the State, therefore, is not that it is a +mechanical sum of individuals, as a heap of sand is the sum of its +grains. The State is a real organism, and the connexion of part to +part is not mechanical, but organic. The State has a life of its own. +And its members also have their own lives, which are included in the +higher life of the State. All the parts of an organism are themselves +organisms. And as the distinction between organic and inorganic is +that the former has its end in itself, while the latter has its end +external to it, this means that the State is an end in itself, that +the individual is an end in himself, and that the former end includes +the latter. Or we may express the same thought otherwise by saying +that, in the State, both the whole and the parts are to be regarded as +real, both having their own lives and, in their character as ends, +their own rights. Consequently, there are two kinds of views of the +nature of the State, which are, according to Aristotle, fundamentally +erroneous. The first is the kind of view which depends upon asserting +the reality of the parts, but denying the reality of the whole, or, +what is the same {323} thing, allowing that the individual is an end +in himself, but denying that the State as a whole is such an end or +has a separate life of its own. The second kind of false view is of +the opposite kind, and consists in allowing reality only to the whole +State, and denying the reality of its parts, the individuals. The +opinions that the State is merely a mechanical aggregate of +individuals, that it is formed by the combination of individuals or +families for the sake of mutual protection and benefit, and that it +exists only for these purposes, are examples of the first kind. Such +views subordinate the State to the individual. The State is treated as +an external contrivance for securing the life, the property, or the +convenience of the individual. The State exists solely for the sake of +the individual, and is not in itself an end. The individual alone is +real, the State unreal, because it is only a collection of +individuals. These views forget that the State is an organism, and +they forget all that this implies. Aristotle would have condemned, on +these grounds, the social contract theory so popular in the eighteenth +century, and likewise the view of modern individualism that the State +exists solely to ensure that the liberty of the individual is +curtailed only by the right of other individuals to the same liberty. +The opposite kind of false view is illustrated by the ideal State of +Plato. As the views we have just discussed deny the reality of the +whole, Plato's view, on the contrary, denies the reality of the parts. +For him the individual is nothing, the State everything. The +individual is absolutely sacrificed to the State. He exists only _for_ +the State, and thus Plato makes the mistake of setting up the State as +sole end and denying that the {324} individual is an end in himself. +Plato imagined that the State is a homogeneous unity, in which its +parts totally disappear. But the true view is that the State, as an +organism, is a unity which contains heterogeneity. It is coherent, yet +heterogeneous. And Plato makes the same mistake in his view of the +family as in his view of the individual. The family, Aristotle thinks, +is, like the individual, a real part of the social whole. It is an +organism within an organism. As such, it is an end in itself, has +absolute rights, and cannot be obliterated. But Plato expressly +proposed to abolish the family in favour of the State, and by +suggesting community of wives and the education of children in State +nurseries from the year of their birth, struck a deadly blow at an +essential part of the State organization. Aristotle thus supports the +institution of family, not on sentimental, but upon philosophic +grounds. + +Aristotle gives no exhaustive classification of different kinds of +State, because forms of government may be as various as the +circumstances which give rise to them. His classification is intended +to include only outstanding types. He finds that there are six such +types, of which three are good. The other three are bad, because they +are corruptions of the good types. These are (1) Monarchy, the rule of +one man by virtue of his being so superior in wisdom to all his +fellows that he naturally rules them. The corruption of Monarchy is +(2) Tyranny, the rule of one man founded not on wisdom and capacity, +but upon force. The second good form is (3) Aristocracy, the rule of +the wiser and better few, of which the corrupt form is (4) Oligarchy, +the rule of the rich and powerful few. (5) Constitutional Republic or +Timocracy arises {325} where all the citizens are of fairly equal +capacity, i.e., where no stand-out individual or class exists, so that +all or most take a share in the government. The corresponding corrupt +form is (6) Democracy, which, though it is the rule of the many, is +more especially characterized as being the rule of the poor. + +Unlike Plato, Aristotle depicts no ideal State. No single State, he +thinks, is in itself the best. Everything must depend upon the +circumstances. What is the best State in one age and county will not +be the best in another. Moreover, it is useless to discuss Utopian +constitutions. What alone interests the sane and balanced mind of +Aristotle is the kind of constitution which we may hope actually to +realize. Of the three good forms of government he considers that +monarchy is theoretically the best. The rule of a single perfectly +wise and just man would be better than any other. But it has to be +given up as impracticable, because such perfect individuals do not +exist. And it is only among primitive peoples that we find the hero, +the man whose moral stature so completely exalts him above his fellows +that he rules as a matter of course. The next best State is +aristocracy. And last, in Aristotle's opinion, comes constitutional +republic, which is, however, perhaps the State best suited to the +special needs and level of development of the Greek city-states. + + + +6. Aesthetics, or the Theory of Art. + +Plato had no systematic philosophy of Art, and his views had to be +collected from scattered references. Aristotle likewise has scarcely a +system, though his opinions are more connected, and though he devoted +a special tretise, the "Poetics", to the subject. And this {326} book, +which has come down to us in a fragmentary condition, deals exclusively +with poetry, and even in poetry only the drama is considered in detail. +What we have from Aristotle on the subject of aesthetics may be divided +roughly into two classes, firstly, reflections on the nature and +significance of art in general, and, secondly, a more detailed +application of these principles to the art of poetry. We shall deal +with these two classes of opinions in that order. + +In order to know what art is, we must first know what it is not. It +must be distinguished from kindred activities. And firstly, it is +distinguished from morality in that morality is concerned with action, +art with production. Morality consists in the activity itself, art in +that which the activity produces. Hence the state of mind of the +actor, his motives, feelings, etc., are important in morality, for +they are part of the act itself. But they are not important in art, +the only essential being that the work of art should turn out well, +however it has been produced. Secondly, art is distinguished from the +activity of nature, which it in many respects resembles. Organic +beings reproduce their own kind, and, in the fact that it is concerned +with production, generation resembles art. But in generation, the +living being produces only itself. The plant produces a plant, man +begets man. But the artist produces something quite other than +himself, a poem, a picture, a statue. + +Art is of two kinds, according as it aims at completing the work of +nature, or at creating something new, an imaginary world of its own +which is a copy of the real world. In the former case, we get such +arts as that of {327} medicine. Where nature has failed to produce a +healthy body, the physician helps nature out, and completes the work +that she has begun. In the latter case, we get what are, in modern +times, called the fine arts. These Aristotle calls the imitative arts. +We saw that Plato regarded all art as imitative, and that such a view +is essentially unsatisfactory. Now Aristotle uses the same word, which +he perhaps borrowed from Plato, but his meaning is not the same as +Plato's, nor does he fall into the same mistakes. That in calling art +imitative he has not in mind the thought that it has for its aim +merely the faithful copying of natural objects is proved by the fact +that he mentions music as the most imitative of the arts, whereas +music is, in fact, in this sense, the least imitative of all. The +painter may conceivably be regarded as imitating trees, rivers, or +men, but the musician for the most part produces what is unlike +anything in nature. What Aristotle means is that the artist copies, +not the sensuous object, but what Plato would call the Idea. Art is +thus not, in Plato's contemptuous phrase, a copy of a copy. It is a +copy of the original. Its object is not this or that particular thing, +but the universal which manifests itself in the particular. Art +idealizes nature, that is, sees the Idea in it. It regards the +individual thing, not as an individual, but in its universal aspects, +as the fleeting embodiment of an eternal thought. Hence it is that the +sculptor depicts not the individual man, but rather the type-man, the +perfection of his kind. Hence too, in modern times, the portrait +painter is not concerned to paint a faithful image of his model, but +takes the model merely as a suggestion, and seizes upon that essential +and eternal {328} essence, that ideal thought, or universal, which he +sees shining through the sensuous materials in which it is imprisoned. +His task is to free it from this imprisonment. The common man sees +only the particular object. The artist sees the universal in the +particular. Every individual thing is a compound of matter and form, +of particular and universal. The function of art is to exhibit the +universal in it. + +Hence poetry is truer, more philosophical, than history. For history +deals only with the particular as the particular. It tells us only of +the _fact_, of what has happened. Its truth is mere correctness, +accuracy. It has not in it, as art has, the living and eternal truth. +It does not deal with the Idea. It yields us only the knowledge of +something that, having happened, having gone by, is finished. Its +object is transient and perishable. It concerns only the endless +iteration of meaningless events. But the object of art is that inner +essence of objects and events, which perishes not, and of which the +objects and events are the mere external drapery. If therefore we +would arrange philosophy, art, and history, in order of their +essential nobility and truth, we should place philosophy first, +because its object is the universal as it is in itself, the pure +universal. We should place art second, because its object is the +universal in the particular, and history last, because it deals only +with the particular as such. Yet because each thing in the world has +its own proper function, and errs if it seeks to perform the functions +of something else, hence, in Aristotle's opinion, art must not attempt +to emulate philosophy. It must not deal with the abstract universal. +The poet must not use his verses as a vehicle of abstract thought. His +proper {329} sphere is the universal as it manifests itself in the +particular, not the universal as it is in itself. Aristotle, for this +reason, censures didactic poetry. Such a poem as that of Empedocles, +who unfolded his philosophical system in metre, is not, in fact, +poetry at all. It is versified philosophy. Art is thus lower than +philosophy. The absolute reality, the inner essence of the world, is +thought, reason, the universal. To contemplate this reality is the +object alike of philosophy and of art. But art sees the Absolute not +in its final truth, but wrapped up in a sensuous drapery. Philosophy +sees the Absolute as it is in itself, in its own nature, in its full +truth; it sees it as what it essentially is, thought. Philosophy, +therefore, is the perfect truth. But this does not mean that art is to +be superseded and done away with. Because philosophy is higher than +art, it does not follow that a man should suppress the artist in +himself in order to rise to philosophy. For an essential thought of +the Aristotelian philosophy is that, in the scale of beings, even the +lower form is an end in itself, and has absolute rights. The higher +activities presuppose the lower, and rest upon them. The higher +includes the lower, and the lower, as an organic part of its being, +cannot be eradicated without injury to the whole. To suppress art in +favour of philosophy would be a mistake precisely parallel to the +moral error of asceticism. In treating of Aristotle's ethics we saw +that, although the activity of reason is held in highest esteem, the +attempt to uproot the passions was censured as erroneous. So here, +though philosophy is the crown of man's spiritual activity, art has +its rights, and is an absolute end in itself, a point which Plato +failed to see. In the human organism, the head is the {330} chief of +the members. But one does not cut off the hand because it is not the +head. + +Coming now to Aristotle's special treatment of the art of poetry, we +may note that he concentrates his attention almost exclusively upon +the drama. It does not matter whether the plot of a drama is +historical or fictitious. For the object of art, the exhibition of the +universal, is just as well attained in an imaginary as in a real +series of events. Its aim is not correctness, but truth, not facts, +but the Idea. Drama is of two kinds, tragedy and comedy. Tragedy +exhibits the nobler specimens of humanity, comedy the worse. This +remark should be carefully understood. It does not mean that the hero +of a tragedy is necessarily a good man in the ordinary sense. He may +even be a wicked man. But the point is that, in some sense, he must be +a great personality. He cannot be an insignificant person. He cannot +be a nonentity. Be he good or bad, he must be conceived in the grand +manner. Milton's Satan is not good, but he is great, and would be a +fit subject for a tragedy. The soundness of Aristotle's thought here +is very noteworthy. What is mean and sordid can never form the basis +of tragedy. Modern newspapers have done their best to debauch this +word tragedy. Some wretched noteless human being is crushed to death +by a train, and the newspapers head their paragraph "Fearful Tragedy +at Peckham Rye." Now such an incident may be sad, it may be dreadful, +it may be horrible, but it is not tragic. Tragedy no doubt deals with +suffering. But there is nothing great and ennobling about this +suffering, and tragedy is concerned with the sufferings of greatness. +In the same way, Aristotle does not mean that the comic {331} hero is +necessarily a wicked man, but that he is, on the whole, a poor +creature, an insignificant being. He may be very worthy, but there is +something low and ignoble about him which makes us laugh. + +Tragedy brings about a purification of the soul through pity and +terror. Mean, sordid, or dreadful things do not ennoble us. But the +representation of truly great and tragic sufferings arouses in the +beholder pity and terror which purge his spirit, and render it serene +and pure. This is the thought of a great and penetrating critic. The +theory of certain scholars, based upon etymological grounds, that it +means that the soul is purged, not _through_, but _of_ pity and +terror, that by means of a diarrhoea of these unpleasant emotions we +get rid of them and are left happy, is the thought of men whose +scholarship may be great, but whose understanding of art is limited. +Such a theory would reduce Aristotle's great and illuminating +criticism to the meaningless babble of a philistine. + + + +7. Critical Estimate of Aristotle's Philosophy. + +It is not necessary to spend so much time upon criticising Aristotle +as we spent upon doing the same for Plato, and that for two reasons. +In the first place, Plato with his obvious greatness abounded in +defects which had to be pointed out, whereas we have but little +adverse criticism for Aristotle. Secondly, Aristotle's main defect is +a dualism almost identical with that of Plato, and what has been said +of the one need only be shortly applied to the other. + +At bottom Aristotle's philosophy is the same as Plato's, with some of +the main defects and crudities removed. Plato was the founder of the +philosophy of the Idea. {332} But in his hands, idealism was clogged +with unessentials, and overgrown with excrescences. His crude theory +of the soul as a thing mechanically forced in and out of the body, his +doctrines of reincarnation and recollection, the belief that this +_thing_ the soul can travel to some place far away where it will see +those _things_ the Ideas, and above all, what is the root of all +these, the confusion between reality and existence, with its +consequent degradation of the universal to a mere particular--these +were the unessentials with which Plato connected his essential +idealism. To take the pure theory of Ideas--albeit not under that +name--to purge it of these encumbrances and to cast them upon the +rubbish heap, to cleanse Plato's gold of its dross, this was the task +of Aristotle. Thought, the universal, the Idea, form--call it what +you will--this is the ultimate reality, the foundation of the world, +the absolute prius of all things. So thought both Plato and Aristotle. +But whereas Plato began to draw mental pictures of the universal, to +imagine that it existed apart in a world of its own, and so might be +experienced by the vision of the wandering soul, Aristotle saw that +this was to treat thought as if it were a thing, to turn it into a +mere particular again. He saw that the universal, though it is the +real, has no existence in a world of its own, but only in this world, +only as a formative principle of particular things. This is the +key-note of his philosophy. Aristotle registers, therefore, an +enormous advance upon Plato. His system is the perfected and completed +Greek idealism. It is the highest point reached in the philosophy of +Greece. The flower of all previous thought, the essence and pure +distillation of the Greek philosophic spirit, the gathering {333} up +of all that is good in his predecessors and the rejection of all that +is faulty and worthless--such is the philosophy of Aristotle. It was +not possible for the Greek spirit to advance further. Further +development could be only decay. And so, in fact, it turned out to be. + + +Aristotle deserves, too, the credit of having produced the only +philosophy of evolution which the world has ever seen, with the +exception of that of Hegel; and Hegel was enabled to found a newer +theory of evolution only by following largely in the footsteps of +Aristotle. This was perhaps Aristotle's most original contribution to +thought. Yet the factors of the problem, though not its solution, he +took from his predecessors. The problem of becoming had tortured Greek +thought from the earliest ages. The philosophy of Heracleitus, in +which it was most prominent, had failed to solve it. Heracleitus and +his successors racked their brains to discover how becoming could be +possible. But even if they had solved this minor problem, the greater +question still remained in the background, what does this becoming +mean? Becoming for them was only meaningless change. It was not +development. The world-process was an endless stream of futile and +purposeless events, "a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, +signifying nothing." Aristotle not merely asked himself how becoming +is possible. He showed that becoming has a meaning, that it signifies +something, that the world-process is a rationally ordered development +towards a rational end. + +But, though Aristotle's philosophy is the highest presentation of the +truth in ancient times, it cannot be accepted as anything final and +faultless. Doubtless no philosophy can ever attain to finality. Let us +apply our {334} two-fold test. Does his principle explain the world, +and does it explain itself? First, does it explain the world? The +cause of Plato's failure here was the dualism in his system between +sense and thought, between matter and the Ideas. It was impossible to +derive the world from the Ideas, because they were absolutely +separated from the world. The gulf was so great that it could never be +bridged. Matter and Idea lay apart, and could never be brought +together. Now Aristotle saw this dualism in Plato, and attempted to +surmount it. The universal and the particular, he said, do not thus +lie apart, in different worlds. The Idea is not a thing here, and +matter a thing there, so that these two incommensurables have to be +somehow mechanically and violently forced together to form a world. +Universal and particular, matter and form, are inseparable. The +connexion between them is not mechanical, but organic. The dualism of +Plato is thus admitted and refuted. But is it really surmounted? The +answer must be in the negative. It is not enough by a _tour de force_ to +bring matter and form together, to assert that they are inseparable, +while they remain all the time, in principle, separate entities. If +the Absolute is form, matter ought to be deduced from form, shown to +be merely a projection and manifestation of it. It must be shown that +form not only moulds matter but produces it. If we assert that the one +primal reality is form, then clearly we must prove that all else in +the world, including matter, arises out of that prime being. Either +matter arises out of form or it does not. If it does, this arising +must be exhibited. If it does not, then form is not the sole ultimate +reality, for matter is equally an ultimate, underivative, {335} +primordial substance. In that case, we thus have two equally real +ultimate beings, each underived from the other, existing side by side +from all eternity. This is dualism, and this is the defect of +Aristotle. Not only does he not derive matter from form, but he +obviously sees no necessity for doing so. He would probably have +protested against any attempt to do so, for, when he identifies the +formal, final, and efficient causes with each other, leaving out the +material cause, this is equivalent to an assertion that matter cannot +be reduced to form. Thus his dualism is deliberate and persistent. The +world, says Aristotle, is composed of matter and form. Where does this +matter come from? As it does not, in his system, arise out of form, we +can only conclude that its being is wholly in itself, i.e., that it is +a substance, an absolute reality. And this is utterly inconsistent +with Aristotle's assertion that it is in itself nothing but a mere +potentiality. Thus, in the last resort, this dualism of sense and +thought, of matter and Idea, of unlimited and limiting, which runs, +"the little rift within the lute," through all Greek philosophy, is +not resolved. The world is not explained, because it is not derived +from a single principle. If form be the Absolute, the whole world must +flow out of it. In Aristotle's system, it does not. + +Secondly, is the principle of form self-explanatory? Here, again, we +must answer negatively. Most of what was said of Plato under this head +applies equally to Aristotle. Plato asserted that the Absolute is +reason, and it was therefore incumbent on him to show that his account +of reason was truly rational. He failed to do so. Aristotle asserts +the same thing, for form is only {336} another word for reason. Hence +he must show us that this form is a rational principle, and this means +that he must show us that it is necessary. But he fails to do so. How +is form a necessary and self-determining principle? Why should there +be such a principle as form? We cannot see any necessity. It is a mere +fact. It is nothing but an ultimate mystery. It is so, and that is an +end of it. But why it should be so, we cannot see. Nor can we see why +there should be any of the particular kinds of form that there are. To +explain this, Aristotle ought to have shown that the forms constitute +a systematic unity, that they can be deduced one from another, just as +we saw that Plato ought to have deduced all the Ideas from one +another. Thus Aristotle asserts that the form of plants is nutrition, +of animals sensation, and that the one passes into the other. But even +if this assertion be true, it is a mere fact. He ought not merely to +have asserted this, but to have deduced sensation from nutrition. +Instead of being content to allege that, as a fact, nutrition passes +into sensation, he ought to have shown that it must pass into +sensation, that the passage from one to the other is a logical +necessity. Otherwise, we cannot see the reason why this change occurs. +That is to say, the change is not _explained_. + +Consider the effects of this omission upon the theory of evolution. We +are told that the world-process moves towards an end, and that this +end is the self-realization of reason, and that it is proximately +attained in man, because man is a reasoning being. So far this is +quite intelligible. But this implies that each step in evolution is +higher than the last because it approaches nearer to {337} the end of +the world-process. And as that end is the realization of reason, this +is equivalent to saying that each step is higher than the last because +it is more rational. But how is sensation more rational than +nutrition? Why should it not be the other way about? Nutrition passes +through sensation into human reason. But why should not sensation pass +through nutrition into human reason? Why should not the order be +reversed? We cannot explain. And such an admission is absolutely fatal +to any philosophy of evolution. The whole object of such a philosophy +is to make it clear to us why the higher form is higher, and why the +lower is lower: why, for example, nutrition must, as lower, come +first, and sensation second, and not _vice versa_. If we can see no +reason why the order should not be reversed, this simply means that +our philosophy of evolution has failed in its main point. It means +that we cannot see any real difference between lower and higher, and +that therefore we have merely change without development, since it is +indifferent whether A passes into B, or B into A. The only way in +which Aristotle could have surmounted these difficulties would have +been to prove that sensation is a development of reason which goes +beyond nutrition. And he could only do this by showing that sensation +logically arises out of nutrition. For a logical development is the +same as a rational development. He ought to have logically deduced +sensation from nutrition, and so with all the other forms. As it is, +all that can be said is that Aristotle was the founder of a philosophy +of evolution because he saw that evolution implies movement towards an +end, and because he attempted to point out the different stages in the +attainment of that end, {338} but that he failed rationally to develop +the doctrine stage by stage. + +As neither the principle of form in general was shown to be necessary, +nor were the particular forms deduced from each other, we have to +conclude that Aristotle like Plato, _named_ a self-explanatory +principle, reason or form, as ultimate principle of things, but failed +to show in detail that it is self-explanatory. Yet, in spite these +defects, the philosophy of Aristotle is one of the greatest +philosophies that the world has ever seen, or is ever likely to see. +If it does not solve all problems, it does render the world more +intelligible to us than it was before. + + + +{339} + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF POST-ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY + +The rest of the story of Greek philosophy is soon told, for it is the +story of decay. The post-Aristotelian is the least instructive of the +three periods of Greek thought, and I shall delineate only its main +outlines. + +The general characteristics of the decay of thought which set in after +Aristotle are intimately connected with the political, social, and +moral events of the time. Although the huge empire of Alexander had +broken up at the conqueror's death, this fact had in no way helped the +Greek States to throw off the yoke of their oppressors. With the +single exception of Sparta, which stubbornly held out, they had +become, for all intents and purposes, subject to the dominion of +Macedonia. And the death of Alexander did not alter this fact. It was +not merely that rude might had overwhelmed a beautiful and delicate +civilization. That civilization itself was decaying. The Greeks had +ceased to be a great and free people. Their vitality was ebbing. Had +it not been one conqueror it would have been another. They were +growing old. They had to give way before younger and sturdier races. +It was not so many years now before Greece, passing from one alien +yoke to another, was to become no more than a Roman province. + +{340} + +Philosophy is not something that subsists independently of the growth +and decay of the spirit of man. It goes hand in hand with political, +social, religious, and artistic development. Political organization, +art, religion, science, and philosophy, are but different forms in +which the life of a people expresses itself. The innermost substance +of the national life is found in the national philosophy, and the +history of philosophy is the kernel of the history of nations. It was +but natural, then, that from the time of Alexander onwards Greek +philosophy should exhibit symptoms of decay. + +The essential mark of the decay of Greek thought was the intense +subjectivism which is a feature of all the post-Aristotelian schools. +Not one of them is interested in the solution of the world-problem for +its own sake. The pure scientific spirit, the desire for knowledge for +its own sake, is gone. That curiosity, that wonder, of which Aristotle +speaks as the inspiring spirit of philosophy, is dead. The motive +power of philosophy is no longer the disinterested pursuit of truth, +but only the desire of the individual to escape from the ills of life. +Philosophy only interests men in so far as it affects their lives. It +becomes anthropocentric and egocentric. Everything pivots on the +individual subject, his destiny, his fate, the welfare of his soul. +Religion has long since become corrupted and worthless, and philosophy +is now expected to do the work of religion, and to be a haven of +refuge from the storms of life. Hence it becomes essentially +practical. Before everything else it is ethical. All other departments +of thought are now subordinated to ethics. It is not as in the days of +the strength and youth of the Greek spirit, when Xenophanes or {341} +Anaxagoras looked out into the heavens, and naively wondered what the +sun and the stars were, and how the world arose. Men's thought no +longer turns outward toward the stars, but only inward upon +themselves. It is not the riddle of the universe, but the riddle of +human life, which makes them ponder. + +This subjectivism has as its necessary consequences, one-sidedness, +absence of originality, and finally complete scepticism. Since men are +no longer interested in the wider problems of the universe, but only +in the comparatively petty problems of human life, their outlook +becomes exclusively ethical, narrow, and one-sided. He who cannot +forget his own self, cannot merge and lose himself in the universe, +but looks at all things only as they affect himself, does not give +birth to great and universal thoughts. He becomes self-centred, and +makes the universe revolve round him. Hence we no longer have now +great, universal, all-embracing systems, like those of Plato and +Aristotle. Metaphysics, physics, logic, are not studied for their own +sakes, but only as preparations for ethics. Narrowness, however, is +always compensated by intensity, which in the end becomes fanaticism. +Hence the intense earnestness and almost miraculous heights of +fanatical asceticism, to which the Stoics attained. And an unbalanced +and one-sided philosophy leads to extremes. Such a philosophy, +obsessed by a single idea, unrestrained by any consideration for other +and equally important factors of truth, regardless of all other +claims, pushes its idea pig-headedly to its logical extreme. Such a +procedure results in paradoxes and extravagances. Hence the Stoics, if +they made duty their watchword, must needs conceive it in {342} the +most extreme opposition to all natural impulses, with a sternness +unheard of in any previous ethical doctrine save that of the Cynics. +Hence the Sceptics, if they lighted on the thought that knowledge is +difficult of attainment, must needs rush to the extreme conclusion +that any knowledge is utterly impossible. Hence the Neo-Platonists +must needs cap all these tendencies by making out a drunken frenzy of +the soul to be the true organ of philosophy, and by introducing into +speculation all the fantastic paraphernalia of sorcery, demons, and +demi-gods. Absence of sanity and balance, then, are characteristics of +the last period of Greek philosophy. The serenity and calm of Plato +and Aristotle are gone, and in their place we have turgidity and +extravagance. + +Lack of originality is a second consequence of the subjectivism of the +age. Since metaphysics, physics, and logic are not cultivated, except +in a purely practical interest, they do not flourish. Instead of +advancing in these arenas of thought, the philosophies of the age go +backwards. Older systems, long discredited, are revived, and their +dead bones triumphantly paraded abroad. The Stoics return to +Heracleitus for their physics, Epicurus resurrects the atomism of +Democritus. Even in ethics, on which they concentrate all their +thought, these post-Aristotelian systems have nothing essentially new +to say. Stoicism borrows its principal ideas from the Cynics, +Epicureanism from the Cyrenaics. The post-Aristotelians rearrange old +thoughts in a new order. They take up the ideas of the past and +exaggerate this or that aspect of them. They twist and turn them in +all directions, and squeeze them dry for a drop of new life. {343} But +in the end nothing new eventuates. Greek thought is finished, and +there is nothing new to be got out of it, torture it how they will. +From the first Stoic to the last Neo-Platonist, there is no +essentially new principle added to philosophy, unless we count as such +the sad and jaded ideas which the Neo-Platonists introduced from the +East. + +Lastly, subjectivism ends naturally in scepticism, the denial of all +knowledge, the rejection of all philosophy. We have already seen, in +the Sophists, the phenomenon of subjectivism leading to scepticism. +The Sophists made the individual subject the measure of truth and +morals, and in the end this meant the denial of truth and morality +altogether. So it is now. The subjectivism of the Stoics and +Epicureans is followed by the scepticism of Pyrrho and his successors. +With them, as with the Sophists, nothing is true or good in itself, +but only opinion makes it so. + + + +{344} + +CHAPTER XV + +THE STOICS + +Zeno of Cyprus, the founder of the Stoic School, a Greek of Phoenician +descent, was born about 342 B.C., and died in 270. He is said to have +followed philosophy; because he lost all his property in a +ship-wreck--a motive characteristic of the age. He came to Athens, and +learned philosophy under Crates the Cynic, Stilpo the Megaric, and +Polemo the Academic. About 300 B.C. he founded his school at the Stoa +Poecile (many-coloured portico) whence the name Stoic. He died by his +own hand. He was followed by Cleanthes, and then by Chrysippus, as +leaders of the school. Chrysippus was a man of immense productivity +and laborious scholarship. He composed over seven hundred books, but +all are lost. Though not the founder, he was the chief pillar of +Stoicism. The school attracted many adherents, and flourished for many +centuries, not only in Greece, but later in Rome, where the most +thoughtful writers, such as Marcus Aurelius, Seneca, and Epictetus, +counted themselves among its followers. + +We know little for certain as to what share particular Stoics, Zeno, +Cleanthes, or Chrysippus, had in the formation of the doctrines of the +school. But after Chrysippus the main lines of the doctrine were +complete. {345} We shall deal, therefore, with Stoicism as a whole, +and not with the special teaching of particular Stoics. The system is +divided into three parts, Logic, Physics, and Ethics, of which the +first two are entirely subservient to the last. Stoicism is +essentially a system of ethics which, however, is guided by a logic as +theory of method, and rests upon physics as foundation. + + + +Logic. + +We may pass over the formal logic of the Stoics, which is, in all +essentials, the logic of Aristotle. To this, however, they added a +theory, peculiar to themselves, of the origin of knowledge and the +criterion of truth. All knowledge, they said, enters the mind through +the senses. The mind is a _tabula rasa_, upon which sense-impressions +are inscribed. It may have a certain activity of its own, but this +activity is confined exclusively to materials supplied by the physical +organs of sense. This theory stands, of course, in sheer opposition to +the idealism of Plato, for whom the mind alone was the source of +knowledge, the senses being the sources of all illusion and error. The +Stoics denied the metaphysical reality of concepts. Concepts are +merely ideas in the mind, abstracted from particulars, and have no +reality outside consciousness. + +Since all knowledge is a knowledge of sense-objects, truth is simply +the correspondence of our impressions to things. How are we to know +whether our ideas are correct copies of things? How distinguish +between reality and imagination, dreams, or illusions? What is the +criterion of truth? It cannot lie in concepts, since these are of our +own making. Nothing is true save {346} sense-impressions, and +therefore the criterion of truth must lie in sensation itself. It +cannot be in thought, but must be in feeling. Real objects, said the +Stoics, produce in us an intense feeling, or conviction, of their +reality. The strength and vividness of the image distinguish these +real perceptions from a dream or fancy. Hence the sole criterion of +truth is this striking conviction, whereby the real forces itself upon +our consciousness, and will not be denied. The relapse into complete +subjectivity will here be noted. There is no universally grounded +criterion of truth. It is based, not on reason, but on feeling. All +depends on the subjective convictions of the individual. + + + +Physics. + +The fundamental proposition of the Stoic physics is that "nothing +incorporeal exists." This materialism coheres with the sensationalism +of their doctrine of knowledge. Plato placed knowledge in thought, and +reality, therefore, in the Idea. The Stoics, however, place knowledge +in physical sensation, and reality, therefore, in what is known by the +senses, matter. All things, they said, even the soul, even God +himself, are material and nothing more than material. This belief they +based upon two main considerations. Firstly, the unity of the world +demands it. The world is one, and must issue from one principle. We +must have a monism. The idealism of Plato and Aristotle had resolved +itself into a futile struggle against the dualism of matter and +thought. Since the gulf cannot be bridged from the side of the Idea, +we must take our stand on matter, and reduce mind to it. Secondly, +body and soul, God and {347} the world, are pairs which act and react +upon one another. The body, for example, produces thoughts +(sense-impressions) in the soul, the soul produces movements in the +body. This would be impossible if both were not of the same substance. +The corporeal cannot act on the incorporeal, nor the incorporeal on +the corporeal. There is no point of contact. Hence all must be equally +corporeal. + +All things being material, what is the original kind of matter, or +stuff, out of which the world is made? The Stoics turned to +Heracleitus for an answer. Fire is the primordial kind of being, and +all things are composed of fire. With this materialism the Stoics +combined pantheism. The primal fire is God. God is related to the +world exactly as the soul to the body. The human soul is likewise +fire, and comes from the divine fire. It permeates and penetrates the +entire body, and, in order that its interpenetration might be regarded +as complete, the Stoics denied the impenetrability of matter. Just as +the soul-fire permeates the whole body, so God, the primal fire, +pervades the entire world. He is the soul of the world. The world is +His body. + +But in spite of this materialism, the Stoics averred that God is +absolute reason. This is not a return to idealism. It does not imply +the incorporeality of God. For reason, like all else, is material. It +means simply that the divine fire is a rational element. Since God is +reason, it follows that the world is governed by reason, and this +means two things. It means, firstly, that there is purpose in the +world, and therefore, order, harmony, beauty, and design. Secondly, +since reason is law as opposed to the lawless, it means that the +universe is {348} subject to the absolute sway of law, is governed by +the rigorous necessity of cause and effect. + +Hence the individual is not free. There can be no true freedom of the +will in a world governed by necessity. We may, without harm, say that +we choose to do this or that, that our acts are voluntary. But such +phrases merely mean that we assent to what we do. What we do is none +the less governed by causes, and therefore by necessity. + +The world-process is circular. God changes the fiery substance of +himself first into air, then water, then earth. So the world arises. +But it will be ended by a conflagration in which all things will +return into the primal fire. Thereafter, at a pre-ordained time, God +will again transmute himself into a world. It follows from the law of +necessity that the course taken by this second, and every subsequent, +world, will be identical in every way with the course taken by the +first world. The process goes on for ever, and nothing new ever +happens. The history of each successive world is the same as that of +all the others down to the minutest details. + +The human soul is part of the divine fire, and proceeds into man from +God. Hence it is a rational soul, and this is a point of cardinal +importance in connexion with the Stoic ethics. But the soul of each +individual does not come direct from God. The divine fire was breathed +into the first man, and thereafter passes from parent to child in the +act of procreation. After death, all souls, according to some, but +only the souls of the good, according to others, continue in +individual existence until the general conflagration in which they, +and all else, return to God. + + + +{349} + +Ethics. + +The Stoic ethical teaching is based upon two principles already +developed in their physics; first, that the universe is governed by +absolute law, which admits of no exceptions; and second, that the +essential nature of man is reason. Both are summed up in the famous +Stoic maxim, "Live according to nature." For this maxim has two +aspects. It means, in the first place, that men should conform +themselves to nature in the wider sense, that is, to the laws of the +universe, and secondly, that they should conform their actions to +nature in the narrower sense, to their own essential nature, reason. +These two expressions mean, for the Stoics, the same thing. For the +universe is governed not only by law, but by the law of reason, and +man in following his own rational nature is _ipso facto_ conforming +himself to the laws of the larger world. In a sense, of course, there +is no possibility of man's disobeying the laws of nature, for he, like +all else in the world, acts of necessity. And it might be asked, what +is the use of exhorting a man to obey the laws of the universe, when, +as part of the great mechanism of the world, he cannot by any +possibility do anything else? It is not to be supposed that a genuine +solution of this difficulty is to be found in Stoic philosophy. They +urged, however, that, though man will in any case do as the necessity +of the world compels him, it is given to him alone, not merely to obey +the law, but to assent to his own obedience, to follow the law +consciously and deliberately, as only a rational being can. + +Virtue, then, is the life according to reason. Morality is simply +rational action. It is the universal reason which is to govern our +lives, not the caprice and self-will {350} of the individual. The wise +man consciously subordinates his life to the life of the whole +universe, and recognises himself as merely a cog in the great machine. +Now the definition of morality as the life according to reason is not +a principle peculiar to the Stoics. Both Plato and Aristotle taught +the same. In fact, as we have already seen, to found morality upon +reason, and not upon the particular foibles, feelings, or intuitions, +of the individual self, is the basis of every genuine ethic. But what +was peculiar to the Stoics was the narrow and one-sided interpretation +which they gave to this principle. Aristotle had taught that the +essential nature of man is reason, and that morality consists in +following this, his essential nature. But he recognized that the +passions and appetites have their place in the human organism. He did +not demand their suppression, but merely their control by reason. But +the Stoics looked upon the passions as essentially irrational, and +demanded their complete extirpation. They envisaged life as a battle +against the passions, in which the latter had to be completely +annihilated. Hence their ethical views end in a rigorous and +unbalanced asceticism. + +Aristotle, in his broad and moderate way, though he believed virtue +alone to possess intrinsic value, yet allowed to external goods and +circumstances a place in the scheme of life. The Stoics asserted that +virtue alone is good, vice alone evil, and that all else is absolutely +indifferent. Poverty, sickness, pain, and death, are not evils. +Riches, health, pleasure, and life, are not goods. A man may commit +suicide, for in destroying his life he destroys nothing of value. +Above all, pleasure is not a good. One ought not to seek pleasure. +Virtue is {351} the only happiness. And man must be virtuous, not for +the sake of pleasure, but for the sake of duty. And since virtue alone +is good, vice alone evil, there followed the further paradox that all +virtues are equally good, and all vices equally evil. There are no +degrees. + +Virtue is founded upon reason, and so upon knowledge. Hence the +importance of science, physics, logic, which are valued not for +themselves, but because they are the foundations of morality. The +prime virtue, and the root of all other virtues, is therefore wisdom. +The wise man is synonymous with the good man. From the root-virtue, +wisdom, spring the four cardinal virtues, insight, bravery, +self-control, justice. But since all virtues have one root, he who +possesses wisdom possesses all virtue, he who lacks it lacks all. A +man is either wholly virtuous, or wholly vicious. The world is divided +into wise men and fools, the former perfectly good, the latter +absolutely evil. There is nothing between the two. There is no such +thing as a gradual transition from one to the other. Conversion must +be instantaneous. The wise man is perfect, has all happiness, freedom, +riches, beauty. He alone is the perfect king, statesman, poet, +prophet, orator, critic, physician. The fool has all vice, all misery, +all ugliness, all poverty. And every man is one or the other. Asked +where such a wise man was to be found, the Stoics pointed doubtfully +at Socrates and Diogenes the Cynic. The number of the wise, they +thought, is small, and is continually growing smaller. The world, +which they painted in the blackest colours as a sea of vice and +misery, grows steadily worse. + +In all this we easily recognize the features of a resuscitated +Cynicism. But the Stoics modified and softened {352} the harsh +outlines of Cynicism, and rounded off its angles. To do this meant +inconsistency. It meant that they first laid down harsh principles, +and then proceeded to tone them down, to explain them away, to admit +exceptions. Such inconsistency the Stoics accepted with their habitual +cheerfulness. This process of toning down their first harsh utterances +took place mainly in three ways. In the first place, they modified +their principle of the complete extirpation of the passions. Since +this is impossible, and, if possible, could only lead to immovable +inactivity, they admitted that the wise man might exhibit certain mild +and rational emotions, and that the roots of the passions might be +found in him, though he never allowed them to grow. In the second +place, they modified their principle that all else, save virtue and +vice, is indifferent. Such a view is unreal, and out of accord with +life. Hence the Stoics, with a masterly disregard of consistency, +stuck to the principle, and yet declared that among things indifferent +some are preferable to others. If the wise man has the choice between +health and sickness, he will choose the former. Indifferent things +were divided into three classes, those to be preferred, those to be +avoided, and those which are absolutely indifferent. In the third +place, the Stoics toned down the principle that men are either wholly +good, or wholly evil. The famous heroes and statesmen of history, +though fools, are yet polluted with the common vices of mankind less +than others. Moreover, what were the Stoics to say about themselves? +Were they wise men or fools? They hesitated to claim perfection, to +put themselves on a level with Socrates and Diogenes. Yet they could +not bring themselves to admit that there was {353} no difference +between themselves and the common herd. They were "proficients," and, +if not absolutely wise, approximated to wisdom. + +If the Stoics were thus merely less consistent Cynics, and originated +nothing in the doctrines of physics and ethics so far considered, yet +of one idea at least they can claim to be the inventors. This was the +idea of cosmopolitanism. This they deduced from two grounds. Firstly, +the universe is one, proceeds from one God, is ordered by one law, and +forms one system. Secondly, however much men may differ in +unessentials, they share their essential nature, their reason, in +common. Hence all men are of one stock, as rational beings, and should +form one State. The division of mankind into warring States is +irrational and absurd. The wise man is not a citizen of this or that +State. He is a citizen of the world. + +This is, however, only an application of principles already asserted. +The Stoics produced no essentially new thought, in physics, or in +ethics. Their entire stock of ideas is but a new combination of ideas +already developed by their predecessors. They were narrow, extreme, +over-rigorous, and one-sided. Their truths are all half-truths. And +they regarded philosophy too subjectively. What alone interested them +was the question, how am I to live? Yet in spite of these defects, +there is undoubtedly something grand and noble about their zeal for +duty, their exaltation above all that is petty and paltry, their +uncompromising contempt for all lower ends. Their merit, says +Schwegler, was that "in an age of ruin they held fast by the moral +idea." + + + +{354} + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE EPICUREANS + +Epicurus was born at Samos in 342 B.C. He founded his school a year or +two before Zeno founded the Stoa, so that the two schools from the +first ran parallel in time. The school of Epicurus lasted over six +centuries. Epicurus early became acquainted with the atomism of +Democritus, but his learning in earlier systems of philosophy does not +appear to have been extensive. He was a man of estimable life and +character. He founded his school in 306 B.C. The Epicurean philosophy +was both founded and completed by him. No subsequent Epicurean to any +appreciable extent added to or altered the doctrines laid down by the +founder. + +The Epicurean system is even more purely practical in tendency than +the Stoic. In spite of the fact that Stoicism subordinates logic and +physics to ethics, yet the diligence and care which the Stoics +bestowed upon such doctrines as those of the criterion of truth, the +nature of the world, the soul, and so on, afford evidence of a +genuine, if subordinate, interest in these subjects. Epicurus likewise +divided his system into logic (which he called canonic), physics, and +ethics, yet the two former branches of thought are pursued with an +obvious carelessness and absence of interest. It is evident that +learned {355} discussions bored Epicurus. His system is amiable and +shallow. Knowledge for its own sake is not desired. Mathematics, he +said, are useless, because they have no connexion with life. The +logic, or canonic, we may pass over completely, as possessing no +elements of interest, and come at once to the physics. + + + +Physics. + +Physics interests Epicurus only from one point of view--its power to +banish superstitious fear from the minds of men. All supernatural +religion, he thought, operates for the most part upon mankind by means +of fear. Men are afraid of the gods, afraid of retribution, afraid of +death because of the stories of what comes after death. This incessant +fear and anxiety is one of the chief causes of the unhappiness of men. +Destroy it, and we have at least got rid of the prime hindrance to +human happiness. We can only do this by means of a suitable doctrine +of physics. What is necessary is to be able to regard the world as a +piece of mechanism, governed solely by natural causes, without any +interference by supernatural beings, in which man is free to find his +happiness how and when he will, without being frightened by the bogeys +of popular religion. For though the world is ruled mechanically, man, +thought Epicurus in opposition to the Stoics, possesses free will, and +the problem of philosophy is to ascertain how he can best use this +gift in a world otherwise mechanically governed. What he required, +therefore, was a purely mechanical philosophy. To invent such a +philosophy for himself was a task not suited to his indolence, and for +which he could not pretend to possess the necessary {356} +qualifications. Therefore he searched the past, and soon found what he +wanted in the atomism of Democritus. This, as an entirely mechanical +philosophy, perfectly suited his ends, and the pragmatic spirit in +which he chose his beliefs, not on any abstract grounds of their +objective truth, but on the basis of his subjective needs and personal +wishes, will be noted. It is a sign of the times. When truth comes to +be regarded as something that men may construct in accordance with +their real or imagined needs, and not in accordance with any objective +standard, we are well advanced upon the downward path of decay. +Epicurus, therefore, adopted the atomism of Democritus _en bloc_, or +with trifling modifications. All things are composed of atoms and the +void. Atoms differ only in shape and weight, not in quality. They fall +eternally through the void. By virtue of free will, they deviate +infinitesimally from the perpendicular in their fall, and so clash +against one another. This, of course, is an invention of Epicurus, and +formed no part of the doctrine of Democritus. It might be expected of +Epicurus that his modifications would not be improvements. In the +present case, the attribution of free will to the atoms adversely +affects the logical consistency of the mechanical theory. From the +collision of atoms arises a whirling movement out of which the world +emerges. Not only the world, but all individual phenomena, are to be +explained mechanically. Teleology is rigorously excluded. In any +particular case, however, Epicurus is not interested to know what +particular causes determine a phenomenon. It is enough for him to be +sure that it is wholly determined by mechanical causes, and that +supernatural agencies are excluded. + +{357} + +The soul being composed of atoms which are scattered at death, a +future life is not to be thought of. But this is to be regarded as the +greatest blessing. It frees us from the fear of death, and the fear of +a hereafter. Death is not an evil. For if death is, we are not; if we +are, death is not. When death comes we shall not feel it, for is it +not the end of all feeling and consciousness? And there is no reason +to fear now what we know that we shall not feel when it comes. + +Having thus disposed of the fear of retribution in a future life, +Epicurus proceeds to dispose of the fear of the interference of the +gods in this life. One might have expected that Epicurus would for +this purpose have embraced atheism. But he does not deny the existence +of the gods. On the contrary, he believed that there are innumerable +gods. They have the form of men, because that is the most beautiful of +all forms. They have distinctions in sex. They eat, drink, and talk +Greek. Their bodies are composed of a substance like light. But though +Epicurus allows them to exist, he is careful to disarm them, and to +rob them of their fears. They live in the interstellar spaces, an +immortal, calm, and blessed existence. They do not intervene in the +affairs of the world, because they are perfectly happy. Why should +they burden themselves with the control of that which nowise concerns +them? Theirs is the beatitude of a wholly untroubled joy. + + "Immortal are they, clothed with powers, + Not to be comforted at all, + Lords over all the fruitless hours, + Too great to appease, too high to appal, + Too far to call." [Footnote 17] + +[Footnote 17: A. C. Swinburne's _Felise_.] + +{358} + +Man, therefore, freed from the fear of death and the fear of the gods, +has no duty save to live as happily as he can during his brief space +upon earth. We can quit the realm of physics with a light heart, and +turn to what alone truly matters, ethics, the consideration of how man +ought to conduct his life. + + +Ethics. + +If the Stoics were the intellectual successors of the Cynics, the +Epicureans bear the same relation to the Cyrenaics. Like Aristippus, +they founded morality upon pleasure, but they differ because they +developed a purer and nobler conception of pleasure than the Cyrenaics +had known. Pleasure alone is an end in itself. It is the only good. +Pain is the only evil. Morality, therefore, is an activity which +yields pleasure. Virtue has no value on its own account, but derives +its value from the pleasure which accompanies it. + +This is the only foundation which Epicurus could find, or desired to +find, for moral activity. This is his only ethical principle. The rest +of the Epicurean ethics consists in the interpretation of the idea of +pleasure. And, firstly, by pleasure Epicurus did not mean, as the +Cyrenaics did, merely the pleasure of the moment, whether physical or +mental. He meant the pleasure that endures throughout a lifetime, a +happy life. Hence we are not to allow ourselves to be enslaved by any +particular pleasure or desire. We must master our appetites. We must +often forego a pleasure if it leads in the end to greater pain. We +must be ready to undergo pain for the sake of a greater pleasure to +come. + +And it was just for this reason, secondly, that the {359} Epicureans +regarded spiritual and mental pleasures as far more important than +those of the body. For the body feels pleasure and pain only while +they last. The body has in itself neither memory nor fore-knowledge. +It is the mind which remembers and foresees. And by far the most +potent pleasures and pains are those of remembrance and anticipation. +A physical pleasure is a pleasure to the body only now. But the +anticipation of a future pain is mental anxiety, the remembrance of a +past joy is a present delight. Hence what is to be aimed at above all +is a calm untroubled mind, for the pleasures of the body are +ephemeral, those of the spirit enduring. The Epicureans, like the +Stoics, preached the necessity of superiority to bodily pains and +external circumstances. So a man must not depend for his happiness +upon externals; he must have his blessedness in his own self. The wise +man can be happy even in bodily torment, for in the inner tranquillity +of his soul he possesses a happiness which far outweighs any bodily +pain. Yet innocent pleasures of sense are neither forbidden, nor to be +despised. The wise man will enjoy whatever he can without harm. Of all +mental pleasures the Epicureans laid, perhaps, most stress upon +friendship. The school was not merely a collection of +fellow-philosophers, but above all a society of friends. + +Thirdly, the Epicurean ideal of pleasure tended rather towards a +negative than a positive conception of it. It was not the state of +enjoyment that they aimed at, much less the excitement of the +feelings. Not the feverish pleasures of the world constituted their +ideal. They aimed rather at a negative absence of pain, at +tranquillity, quiet calm, repose of spirit, undisturbed by fears and +{360} anxieties. As so often with men whose ideal is pleasure, their +view of the world was tinged with a gentle and even luxurious +pessimism. Positive happiness is beyond the reach of mortals. All that +man can hope for is to avoid pain, and to live in quiet contentment. + +Fourthly, pleasure does not consist in the multiplication of needs and +their subsequent satisfaction. The multiplication of wants only +renders it more difficult to satisfy them. It complicates life without +adding to happiness. We should have as few needs as possible. Epicurus +himself lived a simple life, and advised his followers to do the same. +The wise man, he said, living on bread and water, could vie with Zeus +himself in happiness. Simplicity, cheerfulness, moderation, +temperance, are the best means to happiness. The majority of human +wants, and the example of the thirst for fame is quoted, are entirely +unnecessary and useless. + +Lastly, the Epicurean ideal, though containing no possibility of an +exalted nobility, was yet by no means entirely selfish. A kindly, +benevolent temper appeared in these men. It is pleasanter, they said, +to do a kindness than to receive one. There is little of the stern +stuff of heroes, but there is much that is gentle and lovable, in the +amiable moralizings of these butterfly-philosophers. + + + +{361} + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE SCEPTICS + +Scepticism is a semi-technical term in philosophy, and means the +doctrine which doubts or denies the possibility of knowledge. It is +thus destructive of philosophy, since philosophy purports to be a form +of knowledge. Scepticism appears and reappears at intervals in the +history of thought. We have already met with it among the Sophists. +When Gorgias said that, if anything exists, it cannot be known, this +was a direct expression of the sceptical spirit. And the Protagorean +"Man is the measure of all things" amounts to the same thing, for it +implies that man can only know things as they appear to him, and not +as they are in themselves. In modern times the most noted sceptic was +David Hume, who attempted to show that the most fundamental categories +of thought, such as substance and causality, are illusory, and thereby +to undermine the fabric of knowledge. Subjectivism usually ends in +scepticism. For knowledge is the relation of subject and object, and +to lay exclusive emphasis upon one of its terms, the subject, ignoring +the object, leads to the denial of the reality of everything except +that which appears to the subject. This was so with the Sophists. And +now we have the reappearance of a similar {362} phenomenon. The +Sceptics, of whom we are about to treat, made their appearance at +about the same time as the Stoics and Epicureans. The subjective +tendencies of these latter schools find their logical conclusion in +the Sceptics. Scepticism makes its appearance usually, but not always, +when the spiritual forces of a race are in decay. When its spiritual +and intellectual impulses are spent, the spirit flags, grows weary, +loses confidence, begins to doubt its power of finding truth; and the +despair of truth is scepticism. + +Pyrrho. + +The first to introduce a thorough-going scepticism among the Greeks +was Pyrrho. He was born about 360 B.C., and was originally a painter. +He took part in the Indian expedition of Alexander the Great. He left +no writings, and we owe our knowledge of his thoughts chiefly to his +disciple Timon of Phlius. His philosophy, in common with all +post-Aristotelian systems, is purely practical in its outlook. +Scepticism, the denial of knowledge, is not posited on account of its +speculative interest, but only because Pyrrho sees in it the road to +happiness, and the escape from the calamities of life. + +The proper course of the sage, said Pyrrho, is to ask himself three +questions. Firstly, he must ask what things are and how they are +constituted; secondly, how we are related to these things; thirdly, +what ought to be our attitude towards them. As to what things are, we +can only answer that we know nothing. We only know how things appear +to us, but of their inner substance we are ignorant. The same thing +appears differently to different people, and therefore it is {363} +impossible to know which opinion is right. The diversity of opinion +among the wise, as well as among the vulgar, proves this. To every +assertion the contradictory assertion can be opposed with equally good +grounds, and whatever my opinion, the contrary opinion is believed by +somebody else who is quite as clever and competent to judge as I am. +Opinion we may have, but certainty and knowledge are impossible. Hence +our attitude to things (the third question), ought to be complete +suspense of judgment. We can be certain of nothing, not even of the +most trivial assertions. Therefore we ought never to make any positive +statements on any subject. And the Pyrrhonists were careful to import +an element of doubt even into the most trifling assertions which they +might make in the course of their daily life. They did not say, "it is +so," but "it seems so," or "it appears so to me." Every observation +would be prefixed with a "perhaps," or "it may be." + +This absence of certainty applies as much to practical as to +theoretical matters. Nothing is in itself true or false. It only +appears so. In the same way, nothing is in itself good or evil. It is +only opinion, custom, law, which makes it so. When the sage realizes +this, he will cease to prefer one course of action to another, and the +result will be apathy, _"ataraxia."_ All action is the result of +preference, and preference is the belief that one thing is better than +another. If I go to the north, it is because, for one reason or +another, I believe that it is better than going to the south. Suppress +this belief, learn that the one is not in reality better than the +other, but only appears so, and one would go in no direction at all. +Complete suppression of opinion would mean complete {364} suppression +of action, and it was at this that Pyrrho aimed. To have no opinions +was the sceptical maxim, because in practice it meant apathy, total +quietism. All action is founded on belief, and all belief is delusion, +hence the absence of all activity is the ideal of the sage. In this +apathy he will renounce all desires, for desire is the opinion that +one thing is better than another. He will live in complete repose, in +undisturbed tranquillity of soul, free from all delusions. Unhappiness +is the result of not attaining what one desires, or of losing it when +attained. The wise man, being free from desires, is free from +unhappiness. He knows that, though men struggle and fight for what +they desire, vainly supposing some things better than others, such +activity is but a futile struggle about nothing, for all things are +equally indifferent, and nothing matters. Between health and sickness, +life and death, difference there is none. Yet in so far as the sage is +compelled to act, he will follow probability, opinion, custom, and +law, but without any belief in the essential validity or truth of +these criteria. + + + +The New Academy. + +The scepticism founded by Pyrrho soon became extinct, but an +essentially similar doctrine began to be taught in the school of +Plato. After the death of Plato, the Academy continued, under various +leaders, to follow in the path marked out by the founder. But, under +the leadership of Arcesilaus, scepticism was introduced into the +school, and from that time, therefore, it is usually known as the New +Academy, for though its historical continuity as a school was not +broken, its essential character underwent change. What especially +{365} characterized the New Academy was its fierce opposition to the +Stoics, whom its members attacked as the chief dogmatists of the time. +Dogmatism, for us, usually means making assertions without proper +grounds. But since scepticism regards all assertions as equally +ill-grounded, the holding of any positive opinion whatever is by it +regarded as dogmatism. The Stoics were the most powerful, influential, +and forceful of all those who at that time held any positive +philosophical opinions. Hence they were singled out for attack by the +New Academy as the greatest of dogmatists. Arcesilaus attacked +especially their doctrine of the criterion of truth. The striking +conviction which, according to the Stoics, accompanies truth, equally +accompanies error. There is no criterion of truth, either in sense or +in reason. "I am certain of nothing," said Arcesilaus; "I am not even +certain that I am certain of nothing." + +But the Academics did not draw from their scepticism, as Pyrrho had +done, the full logical conclusion as regards action. Men, they +thought, must act. And, although certainty and knowledge are +impossible, probability is a sufficient guide for action. + +Carneades is usually considered the greatest of the Academic Sceptics. +Yet he added nothing essentially new to their conclusions. He appears, +however, to have been a man of singularly acute and powerful mind, +whose destructive criticism acted like a battering-ram not only upon +Stoicism, but upon all established philosophies. As examples of his +thoughts may be mentioned the two following. Firstly, nothing can ever +be proved. For the conclusion must be proved by premises, which in +turn require proof, and so _ad infinitum_. Secondly, {366} it is +impossible to know whether our ideas of an object are true, i.e., +whether they resemble the object, because we cannot compare our idea +with the object itself. To do so would involve getting outside our own +minds. We know nothing of the object except our idea of it, and +therefore we cannot compare the original and the copy, since we can +see only the copy. + + + +Later Scepticism. + +After a period of obliteration, Scepticism again revived in the +Academy. Of this last phase of Greek scepticism, Aenesidemus, a +contemporary of Cicero, is the earliest example, and later we have the +well-known names of Simplicius and Sextus Empiricus. The distinctive +character of later scepticism is its return to the position of Pyrrho. +The New Academy, in its eagerness to overthrow the Stoic dogmatism, +had fallen into a dogmatism of its own. If the Stoics dogmatically +asserted, the Academics equally dogmatically denied. But wisdom lies +neither in assertion nor denial, but in doubt. Hence the later +Sceptics returned to the attitude of complete suspense of judgment. +Moreover, the Academics had allowed the possibility of probable +knowledge. And even this is now regarded as dogmatism. Aenesidemus was +the author of the ten well-known arguments to show the impossibility +of knowledge. They contain in reality, not ten, but only two or three +distinct ideas, several being merely different expressions of the same +line of reasoning. They are as follows. (1) The feelings and +perceptions of all living beings differ. (2) Men have physical and +mental differences, which make things appear different to them. (3) +The different senses give different {367} impressions of things. (4) +Our perceptions depend on our physical and intellectual conditions at +the time of perception. (5) Things appear different in different +positions, and at different distances. (6) Perception is never direct, +but always through a medium. For example, we see things through the +air. (7) Things appear different according to variations in their +quantity, colour, motion, and temperature. (8) A thing impresses us +differently when it is familiar and when it is unfamiliar. (9) All +supposed knowledge is predication. All predicates give us only the +relation of things to other things or to ourselves; they never tell us +what the thing in itself is. (10) The opinions and customs of men are +different in different countries. + + + +{368} + +CHAPTER XVIII + +TRANSITION TO NEO-PLATONISM + +It has been doubted whether Neo-Platonism ought to be included in +Greek philosophy at all, and Erdmann, in his "History of Philosophy," +places it in the medieval division. For, firstly, an interval of no +less than five centuries separates the foundation of Neo-Platonism +from the foundation of the preceding Greek schools, the Stoic, the +Epicurean, and the Sceptic. How long a period this is will be seen if +we remember that the entire development of Greek thought from Thales +to the Sceptics occupied only about three centuries. Plotinus, the +real founder of Neo-Platonism, was born in 205 A.D., so that it is, as +far as historical time is concerned, a product of the Christian era. +Secondly, its character is largely un-Greek and un-European. The Greek +elements are largely swamped by oriental mysticism. Its seat was not +in Greece, but at Alexandria, which was not a Greek, but a +cosmopolitan, city. Men of all races met here, and, in particular, it +was here that East and West joined hands, and the fusion of thought +which resulted was Neo-Platonism. But, on the other hand, it seems +wrong to include the thought of Plotinus and his successors in +medieval philosophy. The whole character of what is usually called +medieval philosophy was determined by its growth upon a distinctively +Christian soil. It was {369} Christian philosophy. It was the product +of the new era which Christianity had substituted for paganism. +Neo-Platonism, on the other hand, is not only unchristian, but even +anti-christian. The only Christian influence to be detected in it is +that of opposition. It is a survival of the pagan spirit in Christian +times. In it the old pagan spirit struggles desperately against its +younger antagonist, and finally succumbs. In it we see the last gasp +and final expiry of the ancient culture of the Greeks. So far as it is +not Asiatic in its elements, it draws its inspiration wholly from the +philosophies of the past, from the thought and culture of Greece. On +the whole, therefore, it is properly classified as the last school of +Greek philosophy. + +The long interval of time which elapsed between the rise of the +preceding Greek schools, whose history we have traced, and the +foundation of Neo-Platonism, was filled up by the continued existence, +in more or less fossilized form, of the main Greek schools, the +Academic, the Peripatetic, the Stoic, and the Epicurean, scattered and +harried at times by the inroads of scepticism. It would be wearisome +to follow in detail the development in these schools, and the more or +less trifling disputes of which it consists. No new thought, no +original principle, supervened. It is sufficient to say that, as time +went on, the differences between the schools became softened, and +their agreements became more prominent. As intellectual vigour wanes, +there is always the tendency to forget differences, to rest, as the +orientals do, in the good-natured and comfortable delusion that all +religions and all philosophies really mean much the same thing. Hence +eclecticism became characteristic of the schools. {370} They did not +keep themselves distinct. We find Stoic doctrines taught by Academics, +Academic doctrines by Stoics. Only the Epicureans kept their race +pure, and stood aloof from the general eclecticism of the time. +Certain other tendencies also made their appearance. There was a +recrudescence of Pythagoreanism, with its attendant symbolism and +mysticism. There grew up a tendency to exalt the conception of God so +high above the world, to widen so greatly the gulf which divides them, +that it was felt that there could be no community between the two, +that God could not act upon matter, nor matter upon God. Such +interaction would contaminate the purity of the Absolute. Hence all +kinds of beings were invented, demons, spirits, and angels, intended +to fill up the gap, and to act as intermediaries between God and the +world. + +As an example of these latter tendencies, and as precursor of +Neo-Platonism proper, Philo the Jew deserves a brief mention. He lived +at Alexandria between 30 B.C. and 50 A.D. A staunch upholder of the +religion and scriptures of the Hebrew race, he believed in the verbal +inspiration of the Old Testament. But he was learned in Greek studies, +and thought that Greek philosophy was a dimmer revelation of those +truths which were more perfectly manifested in the sacred books of his +own race. And just as Egyptian priests, out of national vanity, made +out that Greek philosophy came from Egypt, just as orientals now +pretend that it came from India, so Philo declared that the origin of +all that was great in Greek philosophy was to be found in Judea. Plato +and Aristotle, he was certain, were followers of Moses, used the Old +Testament, and gained their wisdom therefrom! {371} Philo's own ideas +were governed by the attempt to fuse Jewish theology and Greek +philosophy into a homogeneous system. It was Philo, therefore, who was +largely responsible for contaminating the pure clear air of Greek +thought with the enervating fogs of oriental mysticism. + +Philo taught that God, as the absolutely infinite, must be elevated +completely above all that is finite. No name, no thought, can +correspond to the infinity of God. He is the unthinkable and the +ineffable, and His nature is beyond the reach of reason. The human +soul reaches up to God, not through thought, but by means of a +mystical inner illumination and revelation that transcends thought. +God cannot act directly upon the world, for this would involve His +defilement by matter and the limitation of His infinity. There are +therefore intermediate spiritual beings, who, as the ministers of God, +created and control the world. All these intermediaries are included +in the Logos, which is the rational thought which governs the world. +The relation of God to the Logos, and of the Logos to the world, is +one of progressive emanation. Clearly the idea of emanation is a mere +metaphor which explains nothing, and this becomes more evident when +Philo compares the emanations to rays of light issuing from an +effulgent centre and growing less and less bright as they radiate +outwards. When we hear this, we know in what direction we are moving. +This has the characteristic ring of Asiatic pseudo-philosophy. It +reminds us forcibly of the Upanishads. We are passing out of the realm +of thought, reason, and philosophy, into the dream-and-shadow-land of +oriental mysticism, where the heavy scents of beautiful poison flowers +drug the intellect and obliterate thought in a blissful and languorous +repose. + + + +{372} + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE NEO-PLATONISTS + +The word Neo-Platonism is a misnomer. It does not stand for a genuine +revival of Platonism. The Neo-Platonists were no doubt the offspring +of Plato, but they were the illegitimate offspring. The true greatness +of Plato lay in his rationalistic idealism; his defects were mostly +connected with his tendency to myth and mysticism. The Neo-Platonists +hailed his defects as the true and inner secret of his doctrine, +developed them out of all recognition, and combined them with the hazy +dream-philosophies of the East. The reputed founder was Ammonius +Saccas, but we may pass him over and come at once to his disciple +Plotinus, who was the first to develop Neo-Platonism into a system, +was the greatest of all its exponents, and may be regarded as its real +founder. He was born in 205 A.D. at Lycopolis in Egypt, went to Rome +in 245, founded his School there, and remained at the head of it till +his death in 270. He left extensive writings which have been +preserved. + +Plato had shown that the idea of the One, exclusive of all +multiplicity, was an impossible abstraction. Even to say "the One is," +involves the duality of the One. The Absolute Being can be no abstract +unity, but only a unity in multiplicity. Plotinus begins by ignoring +this {373} supremely important philosophical principle. He falls back +upon the lower level of oriental monism. God, he thinks, is absolutely +One. He is the unity which lies beyond all multiplicity. There is in +him no plurality, no movement, no distinction. Thought involves the +distinction between object and subject; therefore the One is above and +beyond thought. Nor is the One describable in terms of volition or +activity. For volition involves the distinction between the willer and +the willed, activity between the actor and that upon which he acts. +God, therefore, is neither thought, nor volition, nor activity. He is +beyond all thought and all being. As absolutely infinite, He is also +absolutely indeterminate. All predicates limit their subject, and +hence nothing can be predicated of the One. He is unthinkable, for all +thought limits and confines that which is thought. He is the ineffable +and inconceivable. The sole predicates which Plotinus applies to Him +are the One and the Good. He sees, however, that these predicates, as +much as any others, limit the infinite. He regards them, therefore, +not as literally expressing the nature of the infinite, but as +figuratively shadowing it forth. They are applied by analogy only. We +can, in truth, know nothing of the One, except that it _is_. + +Now it is impossible to derive the world from a first principle of +this kind. As being utterly exalted above the world, God cannot enter +into the world. As absolutely infinite, He can never limit Himself to +become finite, and so give rise to the world of objects. As absolutely +One, the many can never issue out of Him. The One cannot create the +world, for creation is an activity, and the One is immutable and +excludes all {374} activity. As the infinite first principle of all +things, the One must be regarded as in some sense the source of all +being. And yet how it can give rise to being is inconceivable, since +any such act destroys its unity and infinity. We saw once for all, in +the case of the Eleatics, that it is fatal to define the Absolute as +unity exclusive of all multiplicity, as immutable essence exclusive of +all process, and that if we do so we cut off all hope of showing how +the world has issued from the Absolute. It is just the same with +Plotinus. There is in his system the absolute contradiction that the +One is regarded, on the one hand, as source of the world, and on the +other as so exalted above the world that all relationship to the world +is impossible. We come, therefore, to a complete deadlock at this +point. We can get no further. We can find no way to pass from God to +the world. We are involved in a hopeless, logical contradiction. But +Plotinus was a mystic, and logical absurdities do not trouble mystics. +Being unable to explain how the world can possibly arise out of the +vacuum of the One, he has recourse, in the oriental style, to poetry +and metaphors. God, by reason of His super-perfection, "overflows" +Himself, and this overflow becomes the world. He "sends forth a beam" +from Himself. As flame emits light, as snow cold, so do all lower +beings issue from the One. Thus, without solving the difficulty, +Plotinus deftly smothers it in flowery phrases, and quietly passes on +his way. + +The first emanation from the One is called the Nous. This Nous is +thought, mind, reason. We have seen that Plato regarded the Absolute +itself as thought. For Plotinus, however, thought is derivative. The +One is beyond thought, and thought issues forth from the One {375} as +first emanation. The Nous is not discursive thought, however. It is +not in time. It is immediate apprehension, or intuition. Its object is +twofold. Firstly, it thinks the One, though its thought thereof is +necessarily inadequate. Secondly, it thinks itself. It is the thought +of thought, like Aristotle's God. It corresponds to Plato's world of +Ideas. The Ideas of all things exist in the Nous, and not only the +Ideas of classes, but of every individual thing. + +From the Nous, as second emanation, proceeds the world-soul. This is, +in Erdmann's phrase, a sort of faded-out copy of the Nous, and it is +outside time, incorporeal, and indivisible. It works rationally, but +yet is not conscious. It has a two-fold aspect, inclining upwards to +the Nous on the one hand, and downwards to the world of nature on the +other. It produces out of itself the individual souls which inhabit +the world. + +The idea of emanation is essentially a poetical metaphor, and not a +rational concept. It is conceived poetically by Plotinus as resembling +light which radiates from a bright centre, and grows dimmer as it +passes outwards, till it shades off at last into total darkness. This +total darkness is matter. Matter, as negation of light, as the limit +of being, is in itself not-being. Thus the crucial difficulty of all +Greek philosophy, the problem of the whence of matter, the dualism of +matter and thought, which we have seen Plato and Aristotle struggling +in vain to subjugate, is loosely and lightly slurred over by Plotinus +with poetic metaphors and roseate phrases. + +Matter Plotinus considers to be the ground of plurality and the cause +of all evil. Hence the object of life can {376} only be, as with +Plato, to escape from the material world of the senses. The first step +in this process of liberation is _"katharsis,"_ purification, the +freeing of oneself from the dominion of the body and the senses. This +includes all the ordinary ethical virtues. The second step is thought, +reason, and philosophy. In the third stage the soul rises above +thought to an intuition of the Nous. But all these are merely +preparatory for the supreme and final stage of exaltation into the +Absolute One, by means of trance, rapture, ecstasy. Here all thought +is transcended, and the soul passes into a state of unconscious swoon, +during which it is mystically united with God. It is not a thought of +God, it is not even that the soul sees God, for all such conscious +activities involve the separation of the subject from its object. In +the ecstasy all such disunion and separation are annihilated. The soul +does not look upon God from the outside. It becomes one with God. It +is God. Such mystical raptures can, in the nature of the case, only be +momentary, and the soul sinks back exhausted to the levels of ordinary +consciousness. Plotinus claimed to have been exalted in this divine +ecstasy several times during his life. + +After Plotinus Neo-Platonism continues with modifications in his +successors, Porphyry, Iamblicus, Syrianus, Proclus, and others. + +The essential character of Neo-Platonism comes out in its theory of +the mystical exaltation of the subject to God. It is the extremity of +subjectivism, the forcing of the individual subject to the centre of +the universe, to the position of the Absolute Being. And it follows +naturally upon the heels of Scepticism. In the Sceptics all faith in +the power of thought and reason had finally died out. They {377} took +as their watchword the utter impotence of reason to reach the truth. +From this it was but a step to the position that, if we cannot attain +truth by the natural means of thought, we will do so by a miracle. If +ordinary consciousness will not suffice, we will pass beyond ordinary +consciousness altogether. Neo-Platonism is founded upon despair, the +despair of reason. It is the last frantic struggle of the Greek spirit +to reach, by desperate means, by force, the point which it felt it had +failed to reach by reason. It seeks to take the Absolute by storm. It +feels that where sobriety has failed, the violence of spiritual +intoxication may succeed. + +It was natural that philosophy should end here. For philosophy is +founded upon reason. It is the effort to comprehend, to understand, to +grasp the reality of things intellectually. Therefore it cannot admit +anything higher than reason. To exalt intuition, ecstasy, or rapture, +above thought--this is death to philosophy. Philosophy in making such +an admission, lets out its own life-blood, which is thought. In +Neo-Platonism, therefore, ancient philosophy commits suicide. This is +the end. The place of philosophy is taken henceforth by religion. +Christianity triumphs, and sweeps away all independent thought from +its path. There is no more philosophy now till a new spirit of enquiry +and wonder is breathed into man at the Renaissance and the +Reformation. Then the new era begins, and gives birth to a new +philosophic impulse, under the influence of which we are still living. +But to reach that new era of philosophy, the human spirit had first to +pass through the arid wastes of Scholasticism. + + + +SUBJECT INDEX + +A + +Abortions, 291. + +Absolute, The; + as many in one, 70-71, 197; + as reason, 240-1, 307; + as knowable, 299; + as form, 307. +Actuality, 279. +Air, as first principle, 28. +Antinomy, 54. +Appearance, 61. +Aristocracy, 324. +Asceticism, defect of, 317. +_Ataraxia_, 363. +Atoms, 88 et seq, 356. +Aufklärung, 119-120. + + +B + +Becoming; + Parmenides on, 44; + Heracleitus on, 73; + Empedocles on, 82; + Plato on, 192; + Aristotle on, 279-280 + +Being; + Parmenides on, 44 et seq; + Plato on, 191, 197. + + +C + +Causation, 6-7; + as explanation, 64; + Aristotle's doctrine of, 267-73. +Classification, 199. +Comedy, 330-1. +Concepts; + defined, 143; + identified with definitions, 145; + Socrates's doctrine of, 143-6; + objectivity of, 183; + Stoics on, 345. +Condensation, 28. +Contract, the social, 323. +Cosmopolitanism, 353. +Counter-earth, 38. +Criterion, The Stoic, 345-6. + + +D + +Darwinism, 293. +Death, problem of, 76-7. +Democracy, 123, 325. +Dialectic, 55, 183, 199, 204. +Dichotomy, 200. +Division, 199. +Dualism; + defined, 63; + of Eleatics, 68-70; + of Anaxagoras, 105; + of Plato, 238; + of Aristotle, 334-5. + + +E + +Eclipses, 103. +Ecstasy, 376-7. +Efficient cause, 269; + identified with final cause, 273-4. +Elements, The Four, 83. +Emanation, 371, 374-5. +Empty Space, 47, 89, 291-2 +Eros, 204. + +Evolution; + Anaximander and, 27; + Aristotle's doctrine of, 293-9, 307-12, 333, 336-7; + Spencer's doctrine of, 308 et seq. + +{379} + +Evil, problem of, 240-1. +Explanation, scientific, 64-5. +External goods, value of, 159, 31-6, 350, 359. + + +F + +Faith, age of, 151. +Family, The; Aristotle on, 324. +Final cause, 269; + identified with formal cause, 273. +Fire, as first principle, 78, 347. +First Cause, 66. +First Mover, 284-5. +Form, Aristotle's doctrine of, 267, 274-8. +Formal cause, 269; + identified with final cause, 273. +Free Will, 320, 348, 355. +Friendship, 225, 359. + + +G + +Genius, artistic, 231. +Geocentric hypothesis, 38, 211, 305. +Geometry, 3-5, 275. +God; + Xenophanes on, 41-2; + Socrates on, 132; + Plato on, 202-4; + Aristotle on, 283-8; + as first mover, 284-5; + as thought of thought, 285-6; + relation of, to the world, 282; + Plotinus on, 373. +Gods, The; + Democritus on, 92; + Protagoras on, 112; + Socrates on, 132; + Epicurus on, 357. +Good, + The Idea of, 198, 200-1, 244; + as God, 203. +Gravitation, 294-5. + +H + +Habit, 7. +Happiness; + Antisthenes on, 159; + Plato on, 220-1; + Aristotle on, 314-15; + Stoics on, 351; + Epicurus on, 358, 361; + distinguished from pleasure, 221. +Heavenly bodies, The; + Anaximander on, 26; + Pythagoreans on, 38; + Xenophanes on, 43; + Anaxagoras on, 103; + Plato on, 211; + Aristotle on, 305-6. +Heliocentric hypothesis, 38. +Hinduism, 71, 197, 308, 312-13. + + +I + +Idealism; + of Parmenides, 47 et seq; + essentials of, 48, 49, 235; + Plato as founder of, 235. +Ideas, + Theory of, 174, 183-207; + Aristotle on, 262-5. +Imagination, 300. +Immortality; + Atomists on, 92; + Plato on, 175, 212; + Aristotle on, 302-3; + Epicurus on, 357. +Indian Thought, 14-16; see also Hinduism. +Individualism, 323. +Induction, 144, 146, 190, 206, 260. +Infinite divisibility; + Zeno on, 56; + Anaxagoras on, 96; + Aristotle on, 292-3; + Hume on, 57-8; + Kant on, 57; + Hegel on, 58-60. +Inorganic matter, 294-6. +Insight, moral, 318. +Intuition, 153, 375, 377. +Irony, of Socrates, 130. + +J + +Judaism, 71. +Justice; + Pythagoreans on, 37; + Plato on, 224; + Aristotle on, 319-20. + +{380} + +K + +Knowledge; + of the Infinite, 7-8; + of the Absolute, 299; + through concepts, 146, 182; + Plato on, 177-82; + as recollection, 212-17; + necessary knowledge, 213-15. + + +L + +Life; Aristotle's doctrine of, 296. +Limit, The, 36. +Love, Platonic, 204-6. + + +M + +Marriage, 224. +Material cause, 268. +Materialism; + origin of, 9-11; + of Ionics, 23; + defect of, 66. +Matter; + indestructibility of, 50; + Platonic, 208; + Aristotle's doctrine of, 275-9; + Plotinus on, 375. +Mechanical theories, 88. +Memory, 300. +Monarchy, 324. +Monism, 62-7. +Monstrosities,29l. +Morality; + founded on reason, 118. +Motion; + Zeno on, 54; + Aristotle on, 29l. +Multiplicity; + Zeno on, 53. +Mysticism, 12, 171, 371, 372, 374, 376. +Myths, of Plato, 170-71, 208, 209, 210, 211. + +N + +Necessary Knowledge, 213-15; + necessary concepts, 242. +Non-sensuous thought, 8-13. +Not-being, 44, 75, 76, 77, 89, 191, 208, 279, 280. +Nous; + of Anaxagoras, 97-105; + of Plotinus, 375. +Numbers, as first principle, 36. + +O + +Object, the right of the, 122. +Objectivity; + defined, 113; + of concepts, 183. +Oligarchy, 324. +Opinion, 181-2. +Organic matter, organism, 294-6. + +P + +Pantheism, 312. +Participation, 194, 236. +Personality, 286. +Pleasure, 161-2, 218-19, 350, 358; + distinguished from happiness, 221. +Potentiality, 279. +Pragmatism, 121. +Protestantism, 123. + +Q + +Quality, mechanical explanation of, 87-8. + +R + +Rarefaction, 28. +Reality; + distinguished from appearance, 61; + distinguished from existence, 60-1, 246-7. +Reason; + distinguished from sense, 45, 79, 112, 113, 115, 239, 290; + distinguished from cause, 64, 76; + as universal, 113; + as concepts, 144; + supremacy of, 153-4; + as basis of love, 205-6; + as Absolute, 240-1; + passive and active, 300; + as basis of morals, 118, 317, 349-50. + +{381} + +Recollection; + knowledge as, 212-17; + Aristotle on, 300. +Reincarnation; see Transmigration. +Religion; + relation to philosophy, 14-15, 207; + Xenophanes on, 41-2; + Heracleitus on, 79; + Democritus on, 92; + decay of Greek, 107-8. + +Rhetoric, 111, 122. + +S + +Scepticism, 343, 361. +Sensation; + particularism of, 113; + distinguished from reason, 45, 79, 112, 113, 115, 239, 290. +Slavery, 225, 321. +Soul; + Heracleitus on, 78-9; + Atomists on, 92; + Plato on, 211-17; + Aristotle on, 296 et seq; + Stoics on, 348; + Epicureans on, 357. +Space, 3-4, 56; see also Empty space. +Sphere, of Empedocles, 84. +State, The; + Sophists on, 119; + Plato's, 201-2, 225-29; + Aristotle on, 320-5. +Subject, the right of the, 122, 152. +Subjectivism, Preface, 340-3, 361, 376. +Subjectivity, defined, 113. +Substance; + defined, 186-7; + Ideas as, 186-8; + Aristotle's doctrine of 265-7. +Suicide, 160, 350. +_Summum Bonum_, 222, 314. +Symbolism, 12. + + +T + +Teleology; + defined,101; + of Anaxagoras, 104, 105; + of Plato, 201-2; + of Aristotle, 289. +Theosophists, 153-4. +Time, 282, 292. +Timocracy, 324. +Tragedy, 330-1. +Transmigration, 17, 32, 85, 212, 217, 301. +Tyranny, 324. + + +U + +Universals, 188. +Utilitarianism, 220-21, 315. + +V + +Virtue; + as knowledge, 147, 157; + teachable, 149; + unity of, 149, 223, 351; + as sole good, 159-60, 350; + relation to pleasure, 161, 218-19; + customary and philosophic, 220; + dianoetic, 316, 317; + as the mean, 317. +Void, The, 90. +Vortex, 90, 102. + + +W + +Water, as first principle, 21. +Wise Man, The; + of the Cynics, 160; + of the Cyrenaics, 162; + of the Stoics, 351. +Women, status of, 224. +World-Soul, The, 210, 211, 375. + + +{382} + +INDEX OF NAMES + +A + +Abdera, 86, 112. +Academy, The, 167, 249, 250; + The New, 364-6. +Aegean, The, 18. +Aenesidemus, 366-7. +AEsculapius, 141. +Agrigentum, 81. +Alcibiades, 132, 133. +Alexander the Great, 251, 252, 339, 340, 362. +Alexandria, 368, 370. +Ammonius Saccas, 372. +Amyntas, 249. +Anaxagoras, 22, 30, 82, 86, 91, 94-105, 106, 120, 137, 166, + 271, 272, 273, 340 +Anaximander, 20, 22, 23, 24-7, 28, 29. +Anaximenes, 20, 22, 23, 27-30, 82, 83, 102, 271. +Andronicus, 262. +Anniceris, 162, 167. +Antiochis, 134. +Antisthenes, 156, 158, 159. +Anytus, 133. +Appolonia, 30. +Apollodorus, 140. +_Apology, The_, 129, 133, 134, 172, 173. +Arcesilaus, 364, 365. +Arginusae, 134. +Aristippus, 156, 161, 358. +Aristophanes, 135, 152. +Aristotle, 14, 17, 18, 19,23, 38, 42 (footnote), 55, 95, 98, 99, + 106, 122, 148, 150, 191, 193, 231, 233, 248, 249-338, + 339, 340, 341, 342, 345, 346, 350, 370; + on Thales, 21-2; + on Anaxagoras, 104, 105; + on Socrates, 147,317,320; + on Plato, 193, 262-5, 323-4. + +Asia Minor, 18, 20, 72, 94, 95, 250. +Assyria, 13. +Atarneus, 250. +Athens, 94, 95, 112, 127, 128, 129, 131, 133, 134, 135, 136, + 137, 165, 166, 167, 169, 249, 250, 251, 252, 254, 344. +Atomists, The, 82, 86-93, 95, 96, 97, 103, 104. +Aurelius, Marcus, 14, 344. + + +B + +Babylon, 252. +Babylonia, 86. +Bacon, Francis, 257-8. +_Banquet, The_, 132. See also _Symposium, The_. +Bentham, 220. +_Bhagavat Gita, The,_ 15. +Brahman, 15, 64, 170, 197. +Buddha, The, 213. +Burnet Prof., Preface, 25, 28, 46, 91, 98. + +{383} + + +C + +Carneades, 365. +Chairephon, 129. +Chalcis, 252. +_Charmides, The_, 172, 173. +China, 13. +Christianity, 69, 70, 71, 101, 369, 377. +Chrysippus, 344. +Cicero, 366. +Clazomenae, 94. +Cleanthes, 344. +_Clouds, The_, of Aristophanes, 135. +Coleridge, S. T., 263. +Colophon, 41. +Copernicus, 38. +Crates, 344. +Cratylus, 166. +Critias, 118. +Crito, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141. +_Crito, The_, 172, 173. +Croesus, 20, 21. +Crotona, 31, 33. +Cynics, The, 156, 158-60, 163, 316, 342, 351, 353, 358. +Cyprus, 344. +Cyrenaics, The, 156, 160-2, 163, 218, 342, 358. +Cyrene, 167. + + +D + +Darwin, 308. +Delium, 131. +Delphi, 129. +Democritus, 22, 49, 50, 52, 86, 93, 104, 108, 112, 234, 342, + 354, 356. +Diogenes of Apollonia, 30. +Diogenes the Cynic, 159, 351, 352. +Dionysius the Elder, 167, 168. +Dionysius the Younger, 168, 169. + + +E + +Echechrates, 139, 141. +Egypt, 13, 16, 17, 31, 86, 125, 167, 372. +Elea, 40, 41, 43, 52, 60. +Eleatics, The, 22, 23, 40-71, 72, 73, 75, 79, 89, 109, 112, 117, + 162, 164, 166, 173, 174, 175, 193, 195, 196, 197, + 234, 235, 246, 272, 279, 374. +Eleusinian mysteries, 72. +Empedocles, 17, 22, 49, 52, 81-5, 86, 87-8, 89, 95, 96, + 97, 103, 271, 272, 329. +Empiricus, Sextus, 366. +England, 121. +Ephesus, 72, 73. +Epictetus, 14, 344. +Epicureans, The, 89, 90, 91, 342, 343, 354-60, 362, 368, 369. +Epicurus, 342, 345-60. +Erdmann, 46, 98, 368, 375. +_Ethics, The_, of Aristotle, 319. +Euboea, 252. +Euclid, the geometrician, 33, 113. +Euclid of Megara, 156, 162-3, 166, 167. +Euripides, 94. +_Euthyphro, The_, 172. + + +F + +France, 121. + + +G + +Gorgias, 110, 111, 116-18, 361. +_Gorgias, The_, 174, 177. +Grant, Sir A., 295 (footnote). +Greece, 13, 16, 17, 18, 33, 41, 107, 109, 112, 122, 168, 220, + 252, 339, 344, 368. +Grote, 98. + + +{384} + +H + +Halys, 21. +Hegel, 38, 46, 55, 58-60, 312 (footnote), 333. +Hegesias, 162. +Hellas, 41. +Heracleitus, 22, 72-80, 82, 86, 108, 112, 116, 164, 166, 192, + 193, 234, 271, 333, 342, 347. +Hermeias, 250. +Herpyllis, 251. +Hesiod, 41, 72, 77. +Hippias, 110. +_Hippias Minor, The_, 172. +Hippo, 30. +Homer, 41, 72. +Hume, David, 57, 58, 361. +Hylicists, The, 24. + + +I + +Iamblicus, 376. +Idaeus, 30. +India, 14, 16, 17. +Ionia, 20, 41, 137. +Ionics, The, 20-30, 61, 62, 82, 83, 271, 272. +Islam, 71. +Italy, 18, 31, 40, 167. + + +J + +Japan, 125. ++Jàtakas, The+, 213. +Judaea, 370. + + +K + +Kant, 55, 57, 213, 215. +Kepler, 65. +Krishna, 15. + + +L + +_Laches, The_, 172, 173. +Lampsacus, 95. +Leon, 134-5. +Leucippus, 86, 88, 89, 91, 104. +London, 189. +Lucretius, 14. +Lyceum, The, 251. +Lycon, 133. +Lycopolis, 372. +_Lysis, The_, 172, 173. + + +M + +Macedonia, 249, 252, 339. +Macran, H. S., 312 (footnote). +Megara, 166, 167, 172, 173. +Megarics, The, 156, 162-3. +Melissus, 46. +Melitus, 133. +_Memorabilia, The_, 142. +_Meno, The_, 216. +Meru, 15, 16. +_Metaphysics, The_, of Aristotle, 19, 42, 105, 253, 254, 261, 271. +Metchnikoff, 76. +Miletus, 20, 24, 27. +Mill, J. S., 220, 221, 269. +Milton, 330. +Moses, 370. +Mytilene, 251. + + +N + +Napoleon, 252. +Neo-Platonists, The, 342, 343, 368, 369, 372-377. +Newton, 65. +Nichomachus, 249, 251 +Nietzsche, 156. + + +O + +Orphics, The, 17, 32. + + +P + +Paramatman, 15. +Parmenides, 13,40,41, 42, 43, 52, 53, 57, 72, 81, 82, 86, 117, + 162, 163, 164, 167, 234. +_Parmenides, The_, 169, 175, 176, 177, 195, 244. +Peloponnese, The, 103. + +{385} + +Peloponnesian War, The, 131, 165. +Pericles, 94, 95, 137. +Peripatetics, The, 251, 369. +Persians, The, 251. +_Phaedo, The_, 137, 175, 177. +_Phaedrus, The_, 172, 175, 177. +_Philebus, The_, 175, 203. +Philip of Macedonia, 251. +Philo the Jew, 370-1. +Philolaus, 37. +Phlius, 262. +Plato, 1, 13, 17, 19, 23, 38, 50, 51, 52, 55, 95, 99, 101, 104, + 106, 122, 129, 132, 133, 137, 141, 142, 150, 156, 164-248, + 249, 250, 253, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 262-5, 267, 269, + 271, 272, 273, 275, 281, 282, 286, 287, 288, 290, 291, 298, + 299, 301, 303, 304, 314, 319, 321, 323, 324, 325, 327, 329, + 331, 332, 334, 335, 336, 338, 341, 342, 345, 346, 350, 364, + 370, 372, 374, 375. +Plotinus, 368, 372-6. +Porphyry, 376. +Proclus, 376. +_Poetics, The_, of Aristotle, 326. +Polus, 118-9. +Polemo, 344. +Prodicus, 110, 121. +Protagoras, 110, 112-6, 118, 121, 153, 154, 161, 178, 179, + 181, 217, 361. +_Protagoras, The_, 172. +Proxenus, 249. +Pyrrho, 343, 362-4, 365, 366. +Pythagoras, 31, 32, 33, 34, 72, 81, 301. +Pythagoreans, The, 17, 22, 31-9, 43, 44, 61, 62, 109, 164, + 167, 169, 191, 209, 217, 272, 291, 370. +Pythias, 251. + + +R + +_Republic, The_, Preface, 168, 175, 177, 201-2, 225-9, 230, 231. +Rome, 14, 344, 372. +Rotunda, The, 134, 135. + + +S + +Salamis, 134, 135. +Satan, Milton's, 330. +Sceptics, The, 7 (footnote), 342, 361-7, 368, 376. +Schopenhauer,72. +Schwegler, 46, 353. +Seneca, 14, 344. +Seven Sages, The, 21. +Shaw, Bernard, 126, 156. +Sicily, 18, 81, 112, 176, 168. +Simplicius, 366. +Socrates, 18, 19, 51, 73, 95, 110, 122, 127-54, 155, 156, 157, + 158, 159, 160, 161, 163, 164, 166, 167, 168, 169, 172, + 173, 182, 183, 193, 223, 234, 252, 317, 320, 351, 352. +Solon, 20. +_Sophist, The_, 175, 176, 177, 195. +Sophists, The, 18, 19, 24, 106-26, 127, 128, 135, 142, 144, + 145, 150, 151, 152, 153, 161, 166, 174, 178, + 182, 185, 218, 219, 221, 234, 343, 361. +Sparta, 339. +Spencer, Herbert, 2, 308-12. +Speusippus, 250. +Spinoza, 66, 71, 197. +Stagirus, 249. +_Statesman, The_, 175, 176. +Stilpo, 344. +Stoa, The, 344. +Stoics, The, 341, 342, 343, 344-53, 358, 359, 362, 365, 366, + 368, 369, 370. +Swinburne, A. C., 357. + +{386} + +_Symposium, The_, 175, 205-6, 231. See also _Banquet, The_. +Syracuse, 42, 167, 168, 169. +Syrianus, 376. + + +T + +Thales 20-4, 27, 28, 29, 30, 36, 44, 82, 120, 271, 368. +Thebes, 252. +Thessaly, 137. +Thirty Tyrants, The, 134, 165. +Thrace, 86, 249. +Thrasymachus, 118-9. +_Timaeus, The_, 38, 171, 175, 177, 190, 208, 210. +Timon of Phlius, 362. +Tolstoi, 230. + + +U + +_Upanishads, The_, 14, 15, 170, 371. + + +W + +Wallace, 38 (footnote). +Wells, H. G., Preface. +Wilde, Oscar, 126, 156. + + +X + +Xenocrates, 250, 251. +Xenophanes, 40-3, 72, 79, 108, 340. +Xenophon, 132, 141, 142. + + +Z + +Zeller, 98, 101, 176, 202, 209, 224. +Zeno the Eleatic, 40, 52-60, 72, 117, 163, 246, 292. +Zeno the Stoic, 344, 354. +Zeus, 360. + + + +GLASGOW: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS +BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD. + + +{387} + +NEW WORKS ON PHILOSOPHY + + +THE IDEA OF PROGRESS: An Inquiry into its +Origin and Growth. By Professor J. B. BURY, +D. Litt. 8vo. + + +MIND-ENERGY. 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T. STACE +</title> + +<style type="text/css" > + +h1 {font-size: 160%; text-align:center;} +h2 {font-size: 140%; text-align:center;} +h3 {font-size: 100%; font-weight:bold; } +h4 {font-size: 100%; font-weight:normal;} + +i { font-weight: bold; } + +.indent { margin-left: 7%; } + +.indent2 { margin-left: 14%; } + +pre { margin-left: 40px; font-family: Times; } + +.center { text-align: center; } + +.footnote { text-align: center; } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's A Critical History of Greek Philosophy, by W. T. Stace + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: A Critical History of Greek Philosophy + +Author: W. T. Stace + +Release Date: August 12, 2010 [EBook #33411] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY *** + + + + +Produced by Don Kostuch + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p> +[Transcriber's Notes] +</p> +<p class=indent> + This text is derived from a copy in the Ave Maria University + library, catalog number "B 171 .S8" +<br><br> + Page numbers in this book are indicated by numbers enclosed + in curly braces, e.g. {99}. They have been located where page + breaks occurred in the original book. +</p> +<p> +[End Transcriber's Notes] +</p> +<br> +<h1> +A CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY +</h1> +<p align=center> +MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED<br> +LONDON - BOMBAY - CALCUTTA - MADRAS<br> +MELBOURNE +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br> +NEW YORK - BOSTON - CHICAGO<br> +DALLAS - SAN FRANCISCO +</p> +<p align=center> +THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd<br> +TORONTO +</p> +<br> +<h1> +A CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY +</h1> +<p align=center> +BY +<br><br> +W. T. STACE +<br><br> +MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED<br> +ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON<br> +1920 +</p> +<p align=center> +COPYRIGHT +</p> +<p align=center> +GLASGOW: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS<br> +BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD. +</p> +<p> +<a name="v">{v}</a> +</p> +<h2> +PREFACE +</h2> +<p> +This book contains the substance, and for the most part the words, of +a course of public lectures delivered during the first three months of +1919. The original division into lectures has been dropped, the matter +being more conveniently redivided into chapters. +</p> +<p> +The audience to whom the lectures were delivered was composed of +members of the general public, and not only of students. For the most +part they possessed no previous knowledge of philosophy. Hence this +book, like the original lectures, assumes no previous special +knowledge, though it assumes, of course, a state of general education +in the reader. Technical philosophical terms are carefully explained +when first introduced; and a special effort has been made to put +philosophical ideas in the clearest way possible. But it must be +remembered that many of the profoundest as well as the most difficult +of human conceptions are to be found in Greek philosophy. Such ideas +are difficult in themselves, however clearly expressed. No amount of +explanation can ever render them anything but difficult to the +unsophisticated mind, and anything in the nature of "philosophy made +easy" is only to be expected from quacks and charlatans. +</p> +<p> +Greek philosophy is not, even now, antiquated. It is not from the +point of view of an antiquary or historian {vi} that its treasures are +valuable. We are dealing here with living things, and not with mere +dead things--not with the dry bones and debris of a bygone age. And I +have tried to lecture and write for living people, and not for mere +fossil-grubbers. If I did not believe that there is to be found here, +in Greek philosophy, at least a measure of the truth, the truth that +does not grow old, I would not waste five minutes of my life upon it. +</p> +<p> +"We do not," says a popular modern writer, [Footnote 1] "bring the +young mind up against the few broad elemental questions that are the +<i>questions of metaphysics</i>.... We do not make it discuss, correct it, +elucidate it. That was the way of the Greeks, and we worship that +divine people far too much to adopt their way. No, we lecture to our +young people about not philosophy but philosophers, we put them +through book after book, telling how other people have discussed these +questions. We avoid the questions of metaphysics, but we deliver +semi-digested half views of the discussions of, and answers to these +questions made by men of all sorts and qualities, in various remote +languages and under conditions quite different from our own. . . . It +is as if we began teaching arithmetic by long lectures upon the origin +of the Roman numerals, and then went on to the lives and motives of +the Arab mathematicians in Spain, or started with Roger Bacon in +chemistry, or Sir Richard Owen in comparative anatomy .... It is time +the educational powers began to realise that the questions of +metaphysics, the elements of philosophy, are, here and now to be done +afresh in each mind .... What is wanted is philosophy, and not a +shallow smattering of the history of philosophy ... {vii} The proper +way to discuss metaphysics, like the proper way to discuss mathematics +or chemistry, is to discuss the accumulated and digested product of +human thought in such matters." +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 1: H. G. Wells in "First and Last Things."] +</p> +<p> +Plausible words these, certain to seem conclusive to the mob, +notwithstanding that for one element of truth they contain nine of +untruth! The elements of truth are that our educational system +unwarrantably leaves unused the powerful weapon of oral discussion--so +forcibly wielded by the Greeks--and develops book knowledge at the +expense of original thought. Though even here it must be remembered, +as regards the Greeks, (1) that if they studied the history of +philosophy but little, it was because there was then but little +history of philosophy to study, and (2) that if anyone imagines that +the great Greek thinkers did not fully master the thought of their +predecessors before constructing their own systems, he is grievously +mistaken, and (3) that in some cases the over-reliance on oral +discussion--the opposite fault to ours--led to intellectual +dishonesty, quibbling, ostentation, disregard of truth, shallowness, +and absence of all principle; this was the case with the Sophists. +</p> +<p> +As to the comparisons between arithmetic and philosophy, chemistry and +philosophy, etc., they rest wholly upon a false parallel, and involve +a total failure to comprehend the nature of philosophic truth, and its +fundamental difference from arithmetical, chemical, or physical truth. +If Eratosthenes thought the circumference of the earth to be so much, +whereas it has now been discovered to be so much, then the later +correct view simply cancels and renders nugatory the older view. +{viii} The one is correct, the other incorrect. We can ignore and +forget the incorrect view altogether. But the development of +philosophy proceeds on quite other principles. Philosophical truth is +no sum in arithmetic to be totted up so that the answer is thus +formally and finally correct or incorrect. Rather, the philosophical +truth unfolds itself, factor by factor, in time, in the successive +systems of philosophy, and it is only in the complete series that the +complete truth is to be found. The system of Aristotle does not simply +cancel and refute that of Plato. Spinoza does not simply abolish +Descartes. Aristotle completes Plato, as his necessary complement. +Spinoza does the same for Descartes. And so it is always. The +calculation of Eratosthenes is simply wrong, and so we can afford to +forget it. But the systems of Plato, Aristotle, Spinoza, Leibniz, +etc., are all alike factors of the truth. They are as true now as they +were in their own times, though they are not, and never were, the +whole truth. And therefore it is that they are not simply wrong, done +with, finished, ended, and that we cannot afford to forget them. +Whether it is not possible to bring the many lights to a single focus, +to weld the various factors of the truth into a single organic whole +or system, which should thus be the total result to date, is another +question. Only one such attempt has ever been made, but no one will +pretend that it is possible to understand it without a thorough +knowledge of all previous systems, a knowledge, in fact, of the +separate factors of the truth before they are thus combined into a +total result. Besides, that attempt, too, is now part of the history +of philosophy! +</p> +<p> +Hence any philosophical thinking which is not founded {ix} upon a +thorough study of the systems of the past will necessarily be shallow +and worthless. And the notions that we can dispense with this study, +and do everything out of our own heads, that everyone is to be his own +philosopher, and is competent to construct his own system in his own +way--such ideas are utterly empty and hollow. Of these truths, indeed, +we see a notable example in what the writer just quoted styles his +"metaphysic." This so-called metaphysic is wholly based upon the +assumption that knowledge and its object exist, each on its own +account, external to one another, the one here, the other there over +against it, and that knowledge is an "instrument" which in this +external manner takes hold of its object and makes it its own. The +very moment the word "instrument" is used here, all the rest, +including the invalidity of knowledge, follows as a matter of course. +Such assumption then--that knowledge is an "instrument"--our writer +makes, wholly uncritically, and without a shadow of right. He gives no +sign that it has ever even occurred to him that this is an assumption, +that it needs any enquiry, or that it is possible for anyone to think +otherwise. Yet anyone who will take the trouble, not merely +superficially to dip into the history of philosophy, but thoroughly to +submit himself to its discipline, will at least learn that this is an +assumption, a very doubtful assumption, too, which no one now has the +right to foist upon the public without discussion as if it were an +axiomatic truth. He might even learn that it is a false assumption. +And he will note, as an ominous sign, that the subjectivism which +permeates and directs the whole course of Mr. Wells's thinking is +identical in character with that {x} subjectivism which was the +essential feature of the decay and <i>downfall</i> of the Greek philosophic +spirit, and was the cause of its final <i>ruin</i> and <i>dissolution</i>. +</p> +<p> +I would counsel the young, therefore, to pay no attention to plausible +and shallow words such as those quoted, but, before forming their own +philosophic opinions, most thoroughly and earnestly to study and +master the history of past philosophies, first the Greek and then the +modern. That this cannot be done merely by reading a modern resume of +that history, but only by studying the great thinkers in their own +works, is true. But philosophical education must begin, and the +function of such books as this, is, not to complete it, but to begin +it; and to obtain first of all a general view of what must afterwards +be studied in detail is no bad way of beginning. Moreover, the study +of the development and historical connexions of the various +philosophies, which is not found in the original writings themselves, +will always provide a work for histories of philosophy to do. +</p> +<p> +Two omissions in this book require, perhaps, a word of explanation. +</p> +<p> +Firstly, in dealing with Plato's politics I have relied on the +"Republic," and said nothing of the "Laws." This would not be +permissible in a history of political theories, nor even in a history +of philosophy which laid any special emphasis on politics. But, from +my point of view, politics lie on the extreme outer margin of +philosophy, so that a more slender treatment of the subject is +permissible. Moreover, the "Republic," whether written early or late, +expresses, in my opinion, the views of Plato, and not those of +Socrates, and it still remains the outstanding, typical, and +characteristic {xi} expression of the Platonic political ideal, +however much that ideal had afterwards to be modified by practical +considerations. +</p> +<p> +Secondly, I have not even mentioned the view, now held by some, that +the theory of Ideas is really the work of Socrates, and not of Plato, +and that Plato's own philosophy consisted in some sort of esoteric +number-theory, combined with theistic and other doctrines. I can only +say that this theory, as expounded for example by Professor Burnet, +does not commend itself to me, that, in fact, I do not believe it, but +that, it being impossible to discuss it adequately in a book of this +kind, I have thought that, rather than discuss it inadequately, it +were better to leave it alone altogether. Moreover, it stands on a +totally different footing from, say, Professor Burnet's interpretation +of Parmenides, which I have discussed. That concerned the +interpretation of the true meaning of a philosophy. This merely +concerns the question who was the author of a philosophy. That was a +question of principle, this merely of personalities. That was of +importance to the philosopher, this merely to the historian and +antiquary. It is like the Bacon-Shakespeare question, which no lover +of drama, as such, need concern himself with at all. No doubt the +Plato-Socrates question is of interest to antiquarians, but after all, +fundamentally, it does not matter who is to have the credit of the +theory of Ideas, the only essential thing for us being to understand +that theory, and rightly to apprehend its value as a factor of the +truth. This book is primarily concerned with philosophical ideas, +their truth, meaning, and significance, and not with the rights and +wrongs of antiquarian disputes. It does indeed purport to {xii} be a +<i>history</i>, as well as a discussion of philosophic conceptions. But +this only means that it takes up philosophical ideas in their +historical sequence and connexions, and it does this only because the +conceptions of evolution in philosophy, of the onward march of thought +to a determined goal; of its gradual and steady rise to the supreme +heights of idealism, its subsequent decline, and ultimate collapse, +are not only profoundly impressive as historical phenomena, but are of +vital importance to a true conception of philosophy itself. Were it +not for this, Mr. Wells would, I think, be right, and I for one should +abandon treatment in historical order altogether. Lastly, I may remark +that the description of this book as a <i>critical</i> history means that it +is, or attempts to be critical, not of dates, texts, readings, and the +like, but of philosophical conceptions. +</p> +<p> +I owe a debt of thanks to Mr. F. L. Woodward, M.A., late principal of +Mahinda College, Galle, Ceylon, for assisting me in the compilation of +the index of names, and in sundry other matters. +</p> +<p> +W.T.S. +</p> +<p> +<i>January</i>, 1920. +</p> +<p> + +{xiii} +</p> +<p align=center> +CONTENTS +</p> +<p> +<table width="100%" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2"> +<tr> +<td>CHAPTER</td><td></td><td> PAGE</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>I. </td> +<td>THE IDEA OF PHILOSOPHY IN GENERAL. THE ORIGIN AND +DEVELOPMENT OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY </td> +<td><a href="#1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>II. </td> +<td>THE IONICS. THALES. ANAXIMANDER. ANAXIMENES. OTHER IONIC +THINKERS </td> +<td><a href="#20">20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>III. </td> +<td>THE PYTHAGOREANS </td> +<td><a href="#31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>IV. </td> +<td>THE ELEATICS. XENOPHANES. PARMENIDES. ZENO. CRITICAL REMARKS +ON ELEATICISM </td> +<td><a href="#40">40</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>V. </td> +<td>HERACLEITUS </td> +<td><a href="#72">72</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>VI. </td> +<td>EMPEDOCLES </td> +<td><a href="#81">81</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>VII.</td> +<td>THE ATOMISTS</td> +<td><a href="#86">86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>VIII.</td> +<td>ANAXAGORAS</td> +<td><a href="#94">94</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>IX.</td> +<td>THE SOPHISTS</td> +<td><a href="#106">106</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>X.</td> +<td>SOCRATES</td> +<td><a href="#127">127</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>XI. </td> +<td>THE SEMI-SOCRATICS. THE CYNICS. THE CYRENAICS. THE MEGARICS </td> +<td><a href="#155">155</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>XII. </td> +<td>PLATO </td> +<td><a href="#164">164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(i.) Life and writings</div></td> +<td><a href="#165">165</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(ii.) The theory of knowledge</div></td> +<td><a href="#177">177</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(iii.) Dialectic, or the theory of Ideas</div></td> +<td><a href="#183">183</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(iv.) Physics, or the theory of existence </div></td> +<td><a href="#207">207</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent2">(a) The doctrine of the world </div></td> +<td><a href="#207">207</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent2">(b) The doctrine of the human soul</div></td> +<td><a href="#211">211</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>{xiv}</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(v.) Ethics </div></td> +<td><a href="#217">217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent2">(a) Of the individual </div></td> +<td><a href="#217">217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent2">(b) The State </div></td> +<td><a href="#225">225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(vi.) Views upon art</div></td> +<td><a href="#229">229</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(vii.) Critical estimate of Plato's philosophy</div></td> +<td><a href="#234">234</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>XIII.</td> +<td>ARISTOTLE:</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(i.) Life, Writings, and general character of his work</div></td> +<td><a href="#249">249</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(ii.) Logic</div></td> +<td><a href="#260">260</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(iii.) Metaphysics</div></td> +<td><a href="#261">261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(iv.) Physics, or the philosophy of nature </div></td> +<td><a href="#288">288</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(v.) Ethics:</div></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent2">(a) The individual</div></td> +<td><a href="#314">314</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent2">(b) The State</div></td> +<td><a href="#320">320</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(vi.) Aesthetics, or the theory of art</div></td> +<td><a href="#325">325</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td><div class="indent">(vii.) Critical estimate of Aristotle's philosophy </div></td> +<td><a href="#331">331</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>XIV.</td> +<td>THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF POST-ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY </td> +<td><a href="#339">339</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>XV. </td> +<td>THE STOICS. LOGIC. PHYSICS. ETHICS </td> +<td><a href="#344">344</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>XVI. </td> +<td>THE EPICUREANS. PHYSICS. ETHICS </td> +<td><a href="#344">344</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>XVII.</td> +<td>THE SCEPTICS. PYRRHO. THE NEW ACADEMY. LATER SCEPTICISM </td> +<td><a href="#361">361</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>XVIII.</td> +<td>TRANSITION TO NEO-PLATONISM </td> +<td><a href="#368">368</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>XIX. </td> +<td>THE NEO-PLATONISTS </td> +<td><a href="#372">372</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td>INDEX OF SUBJECTS </td> +<td><a href="#378">378</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><br> +</td> +<td>INDEX OF NAMES </td> +<td><a href="#382">382</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<a name="1">{1}</a> +<h1> +A CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY +</h1> +<br> +<h2> +<a name="CHAPTERI">CHAPTER I</a> +<br> +<br> +THE IDEA OF PHILOSOPHY IN GENERAL. +<br><br> +THE ORIGINS AND DEVELOPMENT OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY +</h2> +<br> +<p> +It is natural that, at the commencement of any study, one should be +expected to say what the subject-matter of that study is. Botany is +the knowledge of plants, astronomy of the heavenly bodies, geology of +the rocks of the earth's crust. What, then, is the special sphere of +philosophy? What is philosophy about? Now it is not as easy to give a +concise definition of philosophy, as it is of the other sciences. In +the first place, the content of philosophy has differed considerably +in different periods of history. In general the tendency has been to +narrow down the scope of the subject as knowledge advanced, to exclude +from philosophy what was formerly included in it. Thus in the time of +Plato, physics and astronomy were included as parts of philosophy, +whereas now they constitute separate sciences. This, however, is not +an insurmountable difficulty. What chiefly militates against the +effort to frame a definition is that the precise content of philosophy +is differently viewed by different schools of thought. Thus a +definition of <a name="2">{2}</a> philosophy which a follower of Herbert Spencer might +frame would be unacceptable to an Hegelian, and the Hegelian +definition would be rejected by the Spencerian. If we were to include +in our definition some such phrase as "the knowledge of the Absolute," +while this might suit some philosophers, others would deny that there +is any Absolute at all. Another school would say that there may be an +Absolute, but that it is unknowable, so that philosophy cannot be the +knowledge of it. Yet another school would tell us that, whether there +is or is not an Absolute, whether it is or is not knowable, the +knowledge of it is in any case useless, and ought not to be sought. +Hence no definition of philosophy can be appreciated without some +knowledge of the special tenets of the various schools. In a word, the +proper place to give a definition is not at the beginning of the study +of philosophy, but at the end of it. Then, with all views before us, +we might be able to decide the question. +</p> +<p> +I shall make no attempt, therefore, to place before you a precise +definition. But perhaps the same purpose will be served, if I pick out +some of the leading traits of philosophy, which serve to distinguish +it from other branches of knowledge, and illustrate them by +enumerating--but without any attempt at completeness--some of the +chief problems which philosophers have usually attempted to solve. And +firstly, philosophy is distinguished from other branches of knowledge +by the fact that, whereas these each take some particular portion of +the universe for their study, philosophy does not specialize in this +way, but deals with the universe as a whole. The universe is one, and +ideal knowledge of it would be one; but the principles of +specialization and division of <a name="3">{3}</a> labour apply here as elsewhere, and +so astronomy takes for its subject that portion of the universe which +we call the heavenly bodies, botany specializes in plant life, +psychology in the facts of the mind, and so on. But philosophy does +not deal with this or that particular sphere of being, but with being +as such. It seeks to see the universe as a single co-ordinated system +of things. It might be described as the science of things in general. +The world in its most universal aspects is its subject. All sciences +tend to generalize, to reduce multitudes of particular facts to single +general laws. Philosophy carries this process to its highest limit. It +generalizes to the utmost. It seeks to view the entire universe in the +light of the fewest possible general principles, in the light, if +possible, of a single ultimate principle. +</p> +<p> +It is a consequence of this that the special sciences take their +subject matter, and much of their contents, for granted, whereas +philosophy seeks to trace everything back to its ultimate grounds. It +may be thought that this description of the sciences is incorrect. Is +not the essential maxim of modern science to assume nothing, to take +nothing for granted, to assert nothing without demonstration, to prove +all? This is no doubt true within certain limits, but beyond those +limits it does not hold good. All the sciences take quite for granted +certain principles and facts which are, for them, ultimate. To +investigate these is the portion of the philosopher, and philosophy +thus takes up the thread of knowledge where the sciences drop it. It +begins where they end. It investigates what they take as a matter of +course. +</p> +<p> +Let us consider some examples of this. The science of geometry deals +with the laws of space. But it takes <a name="4">{4}</a> space just as it finds it in +common experience. It takes space for granted. No geometrician asks +what space is. This, then, will be a problem for philosophy. Moreover, +geometry is founded upon certain fundamental propositions which, it +asserts, being self-evident, require no investigation. These are +called "axioms." That two straight lines cannot enclose a space, and +that equals being added to equals the results are equal, are common +examples. Into the ground of these axioms the geometrician does not +enquire. That is the business of philosophy. Not that philosophers +affect to doubt the truth of these axioms. But surely it is a very +strange thing, and a fact quite worthy of study, that there are some +statements of which we feel that we must give the most laborious +proofs, and others in the case of which we feel no such necessity. How +is it that some propositions can be self-evident and others must be +proved? What is the ground of this distinction? And when one comes to +think of it, it is a very extraordinary property of mind that it +should be able to make the most universal and unconditional statements +about things, without a jot of evidence or proof. When we say that two +straight lines cannot enclose a space, we do not mean merely that this +has been found true in regard to all the particular pairs of straight +lines with which we have tried the experiment. We mean that it never +can be and never has been otherwise. We mean that a million million +years ago two straight lines did not enclose a space, and that it will +be the same a million million years hence, and that it is just as true +on those stars, if there are any, which are invisible even to the +greatest telescopes. But we have no experience of what will <a name="5">{5}</a> happen +a million million years hence, or of what can take place among those +remote stars. And yet we assert, with absolute confidence, that our +axiom is and must be equally true everywhere and at all times. +Moreover, we do not found this on probabilities gathered from +experience. Nobody would make experiments or use telescopes to prove +such axioms. How is it that they are thus self-evident, that the mind +can make these definite and far-reaching assertions without any +evidence at all? Geometricians do not consider these questions. They +take the facts for granted. To solve these problems is for philosophy. +</p> +<p> + +Again, the physical sciences take the existence of matter for granted. +But philosophy asks what matter is. At first sight it might appear +that this question is one for the physicist and not the philosopher. +For the problem of "the constitution of matter" is a well-known +physical problem. But a little consideration will show that this is +quite a different question from the one the philosopher propounds. For +even if it be shown that all matter is ether, or electricity, or +vortex-atoms, or other such, this does not help us in our special +problem. For these theories, even if proved, only teach us that the +different kinds of matter are forms of some one physical existence. +But what we want to know is what physical existence itself is. To +prove that one kind of matter is really another kind of matter does +not tell us what is the essential nature of matter. That, therefore, +is a problem, not of science, but of philosophy. +</p> +<p> +In the same way, all the sciences take the existence of the universe +for granted. But philosophy seeks to know why it is that there is a +universe at all. Is it <a name="6">{6}</a> true, for example, that there is some +single ultimate reality which produces all things? And if so, what +sort of a reality is it? Is it matter, or mind, or something different +from both? Is it good or evil? And if it is good, how is it that there +is evil in the world? +</p> +<p> +Moreover every science, except the purely mathematical sciences, +assumes the truth of the law of causation. Every student of logic +knows that this is the ultimate canon of the sciences, the foundation +of them all. If we did not believe in the truth of the law of +causation, namely, that everything which has a beginning has a cause, +and that in the same circumstances the same things invariably happen, +all the sciences would at once crumble to dust. In every scientific +investigation, this truth is assumed. If we ask the zoologist how he +knows that all camels are herbivorous, he will no doubt point in the +first instance to experience. The habits of many thousands of camels +have been observed. But this only proves that those particular camels +are herbivorous. How about the millions that have never been observed +at all? He can only appeal to the law of causation. The camel's +structure is such that it cannot digest meat. It is a case of cause +and effect. How do we know that water always freezes at 0° centigrade +(neglecting questions of pressure, etc.)? How do we know that this is +true at those regions of the earth where no one has ever been to see? +Only because we believe that in the same circumstances the same thing +always happens, that like causes always produce like effects. But how +do we know the truth of this law of causation itself? Science does not +consider the question. It traces its assertions back to this law, but +goes no <a name="7">{7}</a> further. Its fundamental canon it takes for granted. The +grounds of causation, why it is true, and how we know it is true, are, +therefore, philosophical questions. +</p> +<p> +One may be tempted to enquire whether many of these questions, +especially those connected with the ultimate reality, do not transcend +human faculties altogether, and whether we had not better confine our +enquiries to matters that are not "too high for us." One may question +whether it is possible for finite minds to comprehend the infinite. +Now it is very right that such questions should be asked, and it is +essential that a correct answer should be found. But, for the present, +there is nothing to say about the matter, except that these questions +themselves constitute one of the most important problems of +philosophy, though it is one which, as a matter of fact, has scarcely +been considered in full until modern times. The Greeks did not raise +the question. [Footnote 2] And as this is itself one of the problems +of philosophy, it will be well to start with an open mind. The +question cannot be decided offhand, but must be thoroughly +investigated. That the finite mind of man cannot understand the +infinite is one of those popular dogmatic assertions, which are +bruited about from mouth to mouth, as if they were self-evident, and +so come to tyrannize over men's minds. But for the most part those who +make this statement have never thoroughly sifted the grounds of it, +but simply take it as something universally admitted, and trouble no +further about it. But at the very least we should first know exactly +what <a name="8">{8}</a> we mean by such terms as "mind," "finite," and "infinite." +And we shall not find that our difficulties end even there. +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 2: The reasoning of the Sceptics and others no doubt +involved this question. But they did not consider it in its peculiar +modern form.] +</p> +<p> + +Philosophy, then, deals with the universe as a whole; and it seeks to +take nothing for granted. A third characteristic may be noted as +especially important, though here no doubt we are trenching upon +matters upon which there is no such universal agreement. Philosophy is +essentially an attempt to rise from sensuous to pure, that is, +non-senuous, thought. This requires some explanation. +</p> +<p> +We are conscious, so to speak, of two different worlds, the external +physical world and the internal mental world. If we look outwards we +are aware of the former, if we turn our gaze inwards upon our own +minds we become aware of the latter. It may appear incorrect to say +that the external world is purely physical, for it includes other +minds. I am aware of your mind, and this is, to me, part of the world +which is external to me. But I am not now speaking of what we know by +inference, but only of what we directly perceive. I cannot directly +perceive your mind, but only your physical body. In the last resort it +will be found that I am aware of the existence of your mind only by +inference from perceived physical facts, such as the movements of your +body and the sounds that issue from your lips. The only mind which I +can immediately perceive is my own. There is then a physical world +external to us, and an internal mental world. +</p> +<p> +Which of these will naturally be regarded as the most real? Men will +regard as the most real that which is the most familiar, that which +they came first into <a name="9">{9}</a> contact with, and have most experience of. +And this is unquestionably the external material world. When a child +is born, it turns its eyes to the light, which is an external physical +thing. Gradually it gets to know different objects in the room. It +comes to know its mother, but its mother is, in the first instance, a +physical object, a body. It is only long afterwards that its mother +becomes for the child a mind or a soul. In general, all our earliest +experiences are of the material world. We come to know of the mental +world only by introspection, and the habit of introspection comes in +youth or manhood only, and to many people it hardly comes at all. In +all those early impressionable years, therefore, when our most durable +ideas of the universe are formed, we are concerned almost exclusively +with the material world. The mental world with which we are much less +familiar consequently tends to appear to all of us something +comparatively unreal, a world of shadows. The bent of our minds +becomes materialistic. +</p> +<p> +What I have said of the individual is equally true of the race. +Primitive man does not brood over the facts of his own mind. Necessity +compels him to devote most of his life to the acquisition of food, and +to warding off the dangers which continually threaten him from other +physical objects. And even among ourselves, the majority of men have +to spend most of their time upon considering various aspects of things +external to them. By the individual training of each man, and by long +hereditary habit, then, it comes about that men tend to regard the +physical world as more real than the mental. +</p> +<p> +<a name="10">{10}</a> +</p> +<p> +Abundant evidences of this are to be found in the structure of human +language. We seek to explain what is strange by means of what is +well-known. We try to express the unfamiliar in terms of the familiar. +We shall find that language always seeks to express the mental by the +analogy of the physical. We speak of a man as a "clear" thinker. +"Clear" is an attribute of physical objects. Water is clear if it has +no extraneous matter in it. We say that a man's ideas are "luminous," +thus taking a metaphor from physical light. We talk of having an idea +"at the back of the mind." "At the back of"? Has the mind got a front +and a back? We are thinking of it as if it were a physical thing in +space. We speak of mental habits of "attention." "Attention" means +stretching or turning the mind in a special direction. We "reflect." +"Reflection" means bending our thoughts back upon themselves. But, +literally speaking, only physical objects can be stretched, turned, +and bent. Whenever we wish to express something mental we do it by a +physical analogy. We talk of it in terms of physical things. This +shows how deep-rooted our materialism is. If the mental world were +more familiar and real to us than the material, language would have +been constructed on the opposite principle. The earliest words of +language would have expressed mental facts, and we should afterwards +have tried to express physical things by means of mental analogies. +</p> +<p> +In the East one commonly hears Oriental idealism contrasted with +Western materialism. Such phrases may possess a certain relative +truth. But if they mean that there is in the East, or anywhere else in +the world, <a name="11">{11}</a> a race of men who are naturally idealists, they are +nonsense. Materialism is ingrained in all men. We, Easterns or +Westerns, are born materialists. Hence when we try to think of objects +which are commonly regarded as non-material, such as God or the soul, +it requires continual effort, a tremendous struggle, to avoid +picturing them as material things. It goes utterly against the grain. +Perhaps hundreds of thousands of years of hereditary materialism are +against us. The popular idea of ghosts will illustrate this. Those who +believe in ghosts, I suppose, regard them as some sort of disembodied +souls. The pictures of ghosts in magazines show them as if composed of +matter, but matter of some <i>thin</i> kind, such as vapour. Certain Indian +systems of thought, which are by way of regarding themselves as +idealistic, nevertheless teach that thought or mind is an extremely +subtle kind of matter, far subtler than any ever dealt with by the +physicist and chemist. This is very interesting, because it shows that +the authors of such ideas feel vaguely that it is wrong to think of +thought as if it were matter, but being unable to think of it in any +other way, owing to man's ingrained materialism, they seek to palliate +their sin by making it thin matter. Of course this is just as absurd +as the excuse made by the mother of an illegitimate child, that it was +a very <i>small</i> one. This <i>thin</i> matter is just as material as lead or +brass. And such systems are purely materialistic. But they illustrate +the extraordinary difficulty that the ordinary mind experiences in +attempting to rise from sensuous to non-sensuous thinking. They +illustrate the ingrained materialism of man. +</p> +<p> +This natural human materialism is also the cause <a name="12">{12}</a> of mysticism and +symbolism. A symbolic thought necessarily contains two terms, the +symbol and the reality which it symbolizes. The symbol is always a +sensuous or material object, or the mental image of such an object, +and the reality is always something non-sensuous. Because the human +mind finds it such an incredible struggle to think non-sensuously, it +seeks to help itself by symbols. It takes a material thing and makes +it stand for the non-material thing which it is too weak to grasp. +Thus we talk of God as the "light of lights." No doubt this is a very +natural expression of the religious consciousness, and it has its +meaning. But it is not the naked truth. Light is a physical existence, +and God is no more light than he is heat or electricity. People talk +of symbolism as if it were a very high and exalted thing. They say, +"What a wonderful piece of symbolism!" But, in truth symbolism is the +mark of an infirm mind. It is the measure of our weakness and not of +our strength. Its root is in materialism, and it is produced and +propagated by those who are unable to rise above a materialistic +level. +</p> +<p> +Now philosophy is essentially the attempt to get beyond this sort of +symbolic and mystical thinking, to get at the naked truth, to grasp +what lies behind the symbol as it is in itself. These inferior modes +of thought are a help to those who are themselves below their level, +but are a hindrance to those who seek to reach the highest level of +truth. +</p> +<p> +It is often said that philosophy is a very difficult and abstruse +subject. Its difficulty lies almost wholly in the struggle to think +non-sensuously. Whenever we <a name="13">{13}</a> come to anything in philosophy that +seems beyond us, we shall generally find that the root of the trouble +is that we are trying to think non-sensuous objects in a sensuous way, +that is, we are trying to form mental pictures and images of them, for +all mental pictures are composed of sensuous materials, and hence no +such picture is adequate for a pure thought. It is impossible to +exaggerate this difficulty. Even the greatest philosophers have +succumbed to it. We shall constantly have to point out that when a +great thinker, such as Parmenides or Plato, fails, and begins to +flounder in difficulties, the reason usually is that, though for a +time he has attained to pure thought, he has sunk back exhausted into +sensuous thinking, and has attempted to form mental pictures of what +is beyond the power of any such picture to represent, and so has +fallen into contradictions. We must keep this constantly in mind in +the study of philosophy. +</p> +<p> +In modern times philosophy is variously divided, as into metaphysics, +which is the theory of reality, ethics, the theory of the good, and +aesthetics, the theory of the beautiful. Modern divisions do not, +however, altogether fit in with Greek philosophy, and it is better to +let the natural divisions develop themselves as we go on, than to +attempt to force our material into these moulds. +</p> +<p> +If, now, we look round the world and ask; in what countries and what +ages the kind of thought we have described has attained a high degree +of development, we shall find such a development only in ancient +Greece and in modern Europe. There were great civilizations in Egypt, +China, Assyria, and so on. They produced art and religion, but no +philosophy to speak of. Even <a name="14">{14}</a> ancient Rome added nothing to the +world's philosophical knowledge. Its so-called philosophers, Marcus +Aurelius, Seneca, Epictetus, Lucretius, produced no essentially new +principle. They were merely disciples of Greek Schools, whose writings +may be full of interest and of noble feeling, but whose essential +thoughts contained nothing not already developed by the Greeks. +</p> +<p> +The case of India is more doubtful. Opinions may differ as to whether +India ever had any philosophy. The Upanishads contain +religio-philosophical thinking of a kind. And later we have the six +so-called schools of philosophy. The reasons why this Indian thought +is not usually included in histories of philosophy are as follows. +Firstly, philosophy in India has never separated itself from religious +and practical needs. The ideal of knowledge for its own sake is rarely +to be found. Knowledge is desired merely as a means towards salvation. +Philosophy and science, said Aristotle, have their roots in +wonder,--the desire to know and understand for the sole sake of +knowing and understanding. But the roots of Indian thought lie in the +anxiety of the individual to escape from the ills and calamities of +existence. This is not the scientific, but the practical spirit. It +gives birth to religions, but not to philosophies. Of course it is a +mistake to imagine that philosophy and religion are totally separate +and have no community. They are in fact fundamentally akin. But they +are also distinct. Perhaps the truest view is that they are identical +in substance, but different in form. The substance of both is the +absolute reality and the relation of all things, including men, to +that reality. But whereas philosophy presents this subject-matter +scientifically, in <a name="15">{15}</a> the form of pure thought, religion gives it in +the form of sensuous pictures, myths, images, and symbols. +</p> +<p> +And this gives us the second reason why Indian thought is more +properly classed as religious than philosophical. It seldom or never +rises from sensuous to pure thought. It is poetical rather than +scientific. It is content with symbols and metaphors in place of +rational explanations, and all this is a mark of the religious, rather +than the philosophical, presentation of the truth. For example, the +main thought of the Upanishads is that the entire universe is derived +from a single, changeless, eternal, infinite, being, called Brahman or +Paramatman. When we come to the crucial question how the universe +arises out of this being, we find such passages as this:--"As the +colours in the flame or the red-hot iron proceed therefrom a +thousand-fold, so do all beings proceed from the Unchangeable, and +return again to it." Or again, "As the web issues from the spider, as +little sparks proceed from fire, so from the one soul proceed all +living animals, all worlds, all the gods and all beings." There are +thousands of such passages in the Upanishads. But obviously these +neither explain nor attempt to explain anything. They are nothing but +hollow metaphors. They are poetic rather than scientific. They may +satisfy the imagination and the religious feelings, but not the +rational understanding. Or when again Krishna, in the Bhagavat-Gita, +describes himself as the moon among the lunar mansions, the sun among +the stars, Meru among the high-peaked mountains, it is clear that we +are merely piling sensuous image upon sensuous image without any +further understanding of what the nature of the absolute being in its +own self is. <a name="16">{16}</a> The moon, the sun, Meru, are physical sense-objects. +And this is totally sensuous thinking, whereas the aim of philosophy +is to rise to pure thought. In such passages we are still on the level +of symbolism, and philosophy only begins when symbolism has been +surpassed. No doubt it is possible to take the line that man's thought +is not capable of grasping the infinite as it is in itself, and can +only fall back upon symbols. But that is another question, and at any +rate, whether it is or is not possible to rise from sensuous to pure +thought, philosophy is essentially the attempt to do so. +</p> +<p> +Lastly, Indian thought is usually excluded from the history of +philosophy because, whatever its character, it lies outside the main +stream of human development. It has been cut off by geographical and +other barriers. Consequently, whatever its value in itself, it has +exerted little influence upon philosophy in general. +</p> +<p> +The claim is sometimes put forward by Orientals themselves that Greek +philosophy came from India, and if this were true, it would greatly +affect the statement made in the last paragraph. But it is not true. +It used to be believed that Greek philosophy came from "the East," but +this meant Egypt. And even this theory is now abandoned. Greek +culture, especially mathematics and astronomy, owed much to Egypt. But +Greece did not owe its philosophy to that source. The view that it did +was propagated by Alexandrian priests and others, whose sole motive +was, that to represent the triumphs of Greek philosophy as borrowed +from Egypt, flattered their national vanity. It was a great thing, +wherever they found anything good, to say, "this must have come from +us." A precisely similar motive lies behind the <a name="17">{17}</a> Oriental claim +that Greek philosophy came from India. There is not a scrap of +evidence for it, and it rests entirely upon the supposed resemblance +between the two. But this resemblance is in fact mythical. The whole +character of Greek philosophy is European and unoriental to the +back-bone. The doctrine of re-incarnation is usually appealed to. This +characteristically Indian doctrine was held by the Pythagoreans, from +whom it passed to Empedocles and Plato. The Pythagoreans got it from +the Orphic sect, to whom quite possibly it came indirectly from India, +although even this is by no means certain, and is in fact highly +doubtful. But even if this be true, it proves nothing. Re-incarnation +is of little importance in Greek philosophy. Even in Plato, who makes +much of it, it is quite unessential to the fundamental ideas of his +philosophy, and is only artificially connected with them. And the +influence of this doctrine upon Plato's philosophy was thoroughly bad. +It was largely responsible for leading him into the main error of his +philosophy, which it required an Aristotle to correct. All this will +be evident when we come to consider the systems of Plato and +Aristotle. +</p> +<p> +The origin of Greek philosophy is not to be found in India, or Egypt, +or in any country outside Greece. The Greeks themselves were solely +responsible for it. It is not as if history traces back their thought +only to a point at which it was already highly developed, and cannot +explain its beginnings. We know its history from the time, so to +speak, when it was in the cradle. In the next two chapters we shall +see that the first Greek attempts at philosophising were so much the +beginnings of a beginner, were so very crude and unformed, that it is +<a name="18">{18}</a> mere perversity to suppose that they could not make these simple +efforts for themselves. From those crude beginnings we can trace the +whole development in detail up to its culmination in Aristotle, and +beyond. So there is no need to assume foreign influence at any point. +</p> +<p> +Greek philosophy begins in the sixth century before Christ. It begins +when men for the first time attempted to give a scientific reply to +the question, "what is the explanation of the world?" Before this era +we have, of course, the mythologies, cosmogonies, and theologies of +the poets. But they contain no attempt at a naturalistic explanation +of things. They belong to the spheres of poetry and religion, not to +philosophy. +</p> +<p> +It must not be supposed, when we speak of the philosophy of Greece, +that we refer only to the mainland of what is now called Greece. Very +early in history, Greeks of the mainland migrated to the islands of +the Aegean, to Sicily, to the South of Italy, to the coast of Asia +Minor, and elsewhere, and founded flourishing colonies. The Greece of +philosophy includes all these places. It is to be thought of rather +racially than territorially. It is the philosophy of the men of Greek +race, wherever they happened to be situated. And in fact the first +period of Greek philosophy deals exclusively with the thoughts of +these colonial Greeks. It was not till just before the time of +Socrates that philosophy was transplanted to the mainland. +</p> +<p> +Greek philosophy falls naturally into three periods. The first may be +roughly described as pre-Socratic philosophy, though it does not +include the Sophists who were both the contemporaries and the +predecessors of Socrates. This period is the rise of Greek philosophy. +<a name="19">{19}</a> Secondly, the period from the Sophists to Aristotle, which +includes Socrates and Plato, is the maturity of Greek philosophy, the +actual zenith and culmination of which is undoubtedly the system of +Aristotle. Lastly, the period of post-Aristotelian philosophy +constitutes the decline and fall of the national thought. These are +not merely arbitrary divisions. Each period has its own special +characters, which will be described in the sequel. +</p> +<p> +A few words must be said of the sources of our knowledge of +pre-Socratic philosophy. If we want to know what Plato and Aristotle +thought about any matter, we have only to consult their works. But the +works of the earlier philosophers have not come down to us, except in +fragments, and several of them never committed their opinions to +writing. Our knowledge of their doctrines is the result of the +laborious sifting by scholars of such materials as are available. +Luckily the material has been plentiful. It may be divided into three +classes. First come the fragments of the original writings of the +philosophers themselves. These are in many cases long and important, +in other cases scanty. Secondly, there are the references in Plato and +Aristotle. Of these by far the most important are to be found in the +first book of Aristotle's "Metaphysics," which is a history of +philosophy up to his own time, and is the first attempt on record to +write a history of philosophy. Thirdly, there is an enormous mass of +references, some valuable, some worthless, contained in the works of +later, but still ancient, writers. +</p> +<p> +<a name="20">{20}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERII">CHAPTER II</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +THE IONICS. +</p> +<p> + +</p> +<p> +The earliest Greek philosophers belong to what in after times came to +be called the Ionic school. The name was derived from the fact that +the three chief representatives of this school, Thales, Anaximander, +and Anaximenes, were all men of Ionia, that is to say, the coast of +Asia Minor. +</p> +<p> +<br> +</p> +<p align=center> +<b>Thales</b> +</p> +<p> +As the founder of the earliest school in history, Thales of Miletus is +generally accounted the founder and father of all philosophy. He was +born about 624 B.C. and died about 550 B.C. These dates are +approximate, and it should be understood that the same thing is true +of nearly all the dates of the early philosophers. Different scholars +vary, sometimes as much as ten years, in the dates they give. We shall +not enter into these questions at all, because they are of no +importance. And throughout these lectures it should be understood that +the dates given are approximate. +</p> +<p> +Thales, at any rate, was a contemporary of Solon and Croesus. He was +famous in antiquity for his mathematical and astronomical learning, +and also for his practical sagacity and wisdom. He is included in <a name="21">{21}</a> +all the accounts of the Seven Sages. The story of the Seven Sages is +unhistorical, but the fact that the lists of their names differ +considerably as given by different writers, whereas the name of Thales +appears in all, shows with what veneration he was anciently regarded. +An eclipse of the sun occurred in 585 B.C., and Thales is alleged to +have predicted it, which was a feat for the astronomy of those times. +And he must have been a great engineer, for he caused a diversion of +the river Halys, when Croesus and his army were unable to cross it. +Nothing else is known of his life, though there were many apocryphal +stories. +</p> +<p> +No writings by Thales were extant even in the time of Aristotle, and +it is believed that he wrote nothing. His philosophy, if we can call +it by that name, consisted, so far as we know, of two propositions. +Firstly, that the principle of all things is water, that all comes +from water, and to water all returns. And secondly, that the earth is +a flat disc which floats upon water. The first, which is the chief +proposition, means that water is the one primal kind of existence and +that everything else in the universe is merely a modification of +water. Two questions will naturally occur to us. Why did Thales choose +water as the first principle? And by what process does water, in his +opinion, come to be changed into other things; how was the universe +formed out of water? We cannot answer either of these questions with +certainty. Aristotle says that Thales "probably derived his opinion +from observing that the nutriment of all things is moist, and that +even actual heat is generated therefrom, and that animal life is +sustained by water, ... and from the fact that the seeds of all things +possess <a name="22">{22}</a> a moist nature, and that water is a first principle of +all things that are humid." This is very likely the true explanation. +But it will be noted that even Aristotle uses the word "probably," and +so gives his statement merely as a conjecture. How, in the opinion of +Thales, the universe arose out of water, is even more uncertain. Most +likely he never asked himself the question, and gave no explanation. +At any rate nothing is known on the point. +</p> +<p> +This being the sum and substance of the teaching of Thales, we may +naturally ask why, on account of such a crude and undeveloped idea, he +should be given the title of the father of philosophy. Why should +philosophy be said to begin here in particular? Now, the significance +of Thales is not that his water-philosophy has any value in itself, +but that this was the first recorded attempt to explain the universe +on naturalistic and scientific principles, without the aid of myths +and anthropomorphic gods. Moreover, Thales propounded the problem, and +determined the direction and character, of all pre-Socratic +philosophy. The fundamental thought of that period was, that under the +multiplicity of the world there must be a single ultimate principle. +The problem of all philosophers from Thales to Anaxagoras was, what is +the nature of that first principle from which all things have issued? +Their systems are all attempts to answer this question, and may be +classified according to their different replies. Thus Thales asserted +that the ultimate reality is water, Anaximander indefinite matter, +Anaximenes air, the Pythagoreans number, the Eleatics Being, +Heracleitus fire, Empedocles the four elements, Democritus atoms, and +so on. The first period is thus <a name="23">{23}</a> essentially cosmological in +character, and it was Thales who determined the character. His +importance is that he was the first to propound the question, not that +he gave any rational reply to it. +</p> +<p> +We saw in the first chapter, that man is naturally a materialist, and +that philosophy is the movement from sensuous to non-sensuous thought. +As we should expect, then, philosophy begins in materialism. The first +answer to the question, what the ultimate reality is, places the +nature of that reality in a sensuous object, water. The other members +of the Ionic school, Anaximander, and Anaximenes, are also +materialists. And from their time onwards we can trace the gradual +rise of thought, with occasional breaks and relapses, from this +sensualism of the Ionics, through the semi-sensuous idealism of the +Eleatics, to the highest point of pure non-sensuous thought, the +idealism of Plato and Aristotle. It is important to keep in mind, +then, that the history of philosophy is not a mere chaotic hotch-potch +of opinions and theories, succeeding each other without connection or +order. It is a logical and historical evolution, each step in which is +determined by the last, and advances beyond the last towards a +definite goal. The goal, of course, is visible to us, but was not +visible to the early thinkers themselves. +</p> +<p> +Since man begins by looking outwards upon the external world and not +inwards upon his own self, this fact too determines the character of +the first period of Greek philosophy. It concerns itself solely with +nature, with the external world, and only with man as a part of +nature. It demands an explanation of nature. And this is the same as +saying that it is cosmological. The <a name="24">{24}</a> problems of man, of life, of +human destiny, of ethics, are treated by it scantily, or not at all. +It is not till the time of the Sophists that the Greek spirit turns +inwards upon itself and begins to consider these problems, and with +the emergence of that point of view we have passed from the first to +the second period of Greek philosophy. +</p> +<p> +Because the Ionic philosophers were all materialists they are also +sometimes called Hylicists, from the Greek <i>hulé</i> which means matter. +</p> +<p> +<br> +</p> +<p align=center> +<b>Anaximander</b> +</p> +<p> +The next philosopher of the Ionic school is Anaximander. He was an +exceedingly original and audacious thinker. He was probably born about +611 B.C. and died about 547. He was an inhabitant of Miletus, and is +said to have been a disciple of Thales. It will be seen, thus, that he +was a younger contemporary of Thales. He was born at the time that +Thales was flourishing, and was about a generation younger. He was the +first Greek to write a philosophic treatise, which however has been +unfortunately lost. He was eminent for his astronomical and +geographical knowledge, and in this connection was the first to +construct a map. Details of his life are not known. +</p> +<p> +Now Thales had made the ultimate principle of the universe, water. +Anaximander agrees with Thales that the ultimate principle of things +is material, but he does not name it water, does not in fact believe +that it is any particular kind of matter. It is rather a formless, +indefinite, and absolutely featureless matter in general. <a name="25">{25}</a> Matter, +as we know it, is always some particular kind of matter. It must be +iron, brass, water, air, or other such. The difference between the +different kinds of matter is qualitative, that is to say, we know that +air is air because it has the qualities of air and differs from iron +because iron has the qualities of iron, and so on. The primeval matter +of Anaximander is just matter not yet sundered into the different +kinds of matter. It is therefore formless and characterless. And as it +is thus indeterminate in quality, so it is illimitable in quantity. +Anaximander believed that this matter stretches out to infinity +through space. The reason he gave for this opinion was, that if there +were a limited amount of matter it would long ago have been used up in +the creation and destruction of the "innumerable worlds." Hence he +called it "the boundless." In regard to these "innumerable worlds," +the traditional opinion about Anaximander was that he believed these +worlds to succeed each other in time, and that first a world was +created, developed, and was destroyed, then another world arose, was +developed and destroyed, and that this periodic revolution of worlds +went on for ever. Professor Burnet, however, is of opinion that the +"innumerable worlds" of Anaximander were not necessarily successive but +rather simultaneously existing worlds. According to this view there +may be any number of worlds existing at the same time. But, even so, +it is still true that these worlds were not everlasting, but began, +developed and decayed, giving place in due time to other worlds. +</p> +<p> +How, now, have these various worlds been formed out of the formless, +indefinite, indeterminate matter of <a name="26">{26}</a> Anaximander? On this question +Anaximander is vague and has nothing very definite to put forward. +Indeterminate matter by a vaguely conceived process separates itself +into "the hot" and "the cold." The cold is moist or damp. This cold +and moist matter becomes the earth, in the centre of the universe. The +hot matter collects into a sphere of fire surrounding the earth. The +earth in the centre was originally fluid. The heat of the surrounding +sphere caused the waters of the earth progressively to evaporate +giving rise to the envelope of air which surrounds the earth. For the +early Greeks regarded the air and vapour as the same thing. As this +air or vapour expanded under the action of heat it burst the outside +hot sphere of fire into a series of enormous "wheel-shaped husks," +resembling cart wheels, which encircle the earth. You may naturally +ask how it is that if these are composed of fire we do not see them +continually glowing. Anaximander's answer was that these wheel-shaped +husks are encrusted with thick, opaque vapour, which conceals the +inner fire from our view. But there are apertures, or pipe-like holes +in the vapour-crust, and through these the fire gleams, causing the +appearance of the sun, stars, and moon. You will note that the moon +was, on this theory, considered to be fiery, and not, as we now know +it to be, a cold surface reflecting the sun's light. There were three +of these "cart wheels"; the first was that of the sun, furthest away +from the earth, nearer to us was that of the moon, and closest of all +was that of the fixed stars. The "wheel-shaped husks" containing the +heavenly bodies are revolved round the earth by means of currents of +air. The earth in the centre was believed by <a name="27">{27}</a> Anaximander to be +not spherical but cylindrical. Men live on the top end of this pillar +or cylinder. +</p> +<p> +Anaximander also developed a striking theory about the origin and +evolution of living beings. In the beginning the earth was fluid and +in the gradual drying up by evaporation of this fluid, living beings +were produced from the heat and moisture. In the first instance these +beings were of a low order. They gradually evolved into successively +higher and higher organisms by means of adaptation to their +environment. Man was in the first instance a fish living in the water. +The gradual drying up left parts of the earth high and dry, and marine +animals migrated to the land, and their fins by adaptation became +members fitted for movement on land. The resemblance of this primitive +theory to modern theories of evolution is remarkable. It is easy to +exaggerate its importance, but it is at any rate clear that +Anaximander had, by a happy guess, hit upon the central idea of +adaptation of species to their environment. +</p> +<p> +The teaching of Anaximander exhibits a marked advance beyond the +position of Thales. Thales had taught that the first principle of +things is water. The formless matter of Anaximander is, +philosophically, an advance on this, showing the operation of thought +and abstraction. Secondly, Anaximander had definitely attempted to +apply this idea, and to derive from it the existent world. Thales had +left the question how the primal water developed into a world, +entirely unanswered. +</p> +<p> +<br> +</p> +<p align=center> +<b>Anaximenes</b> +</p> +<p> +Like the two previous thinkers Anaximenes was an inhabitant of +Miletus. He was born about 588 B.C. and <a name="28">{28}</a> died about 524. He wrote +a treatise of which a small fragment still remains. He agreed with +Thales and Anaximander that the first principle of the universe is +material. With Thales too, he looked upon it as a particular kind of +matter, not indeterminate matter as taught by Anaximander. Thales had +declared it to be water. Anaximenes named air as first principle. This +air, like the matter of Anaximander, stretches illimitably through +space. Air is constantly in motion and has the power of motion +inherent in it and this motion brought about the development of the +universe from air. As operating process of this development Anaximenes +named the two opposite processes of (1) Rarefaction, (2) Condensation. +Rarefaction is the same thing as heat or growing hot, and condensation +is identified with growing cold. The air by rarefaction becomes fire, +and fire borne aloft upon the air becomes the stars. By the opposite +process of condensation, air first becomes clouds and, by further +degrees of condensation, becomes successively water, earth, and rocks. +The world resolves again in the course of time into the primal air. +Anaximenes, like Anaximander, held the theory of "innumerable worlds," +and these worlds are, according to the traditional view, successive. +But here again Professor Burnet considers that the innumerable worlds +may have been co-existent as well as successive. Anaximenes considered +the earth to be a flat disc floating upon air. +</p> +<p> +The origin of the air theory of Anaximenes seems to have been +suggested to him by the fact that air in the form of breath is the +principle of life. +</p> +<p> +The teaching of Anaximenes seems at first sight to be <a name="29">{29}</a> a falling +off from the position of Anaximander, because he goes back to the +position of Thales in favour of a determinate matter as first +principle. But in one respect at least there is here an advance upon +Anaximander. The latter had been vague as to how formless matter +differentiates itself into the world of objects. Anaximenes names the +definite processes of rarefaction and condensation. If you believe, as +these early physicists did, that every different kind of matter is +ultimately one kind of matter, the problem of the differentiation of +the qualities of the existent elements arises. For example, if this +paper is really composed of air, how do we account for its colour, its +hardness, texture, etc. Either these qualities must be originally in +the primal air, or not. If the qualities existed in it then it was not +really one homogeneous matter like air, but must have been simply a +mixture of different kinds of matter. If not, how do these properties +arise? How can this air which has not in it the qualities of things we +see, develop them? The simplest way of getting out of the difficulty +is to found quality upon quantity, and to explain the former by the +amount or quantity, more or less, of matter existent in the same +volume. This is precisely what is meant by rarefaction and +condensation. Condensation would result in compressing more matter +into the same volume. Rarefaction would give rise to the opposite +process. Great compression of air, a great amount of it in a small +space, might account for the qualities, say, of earth and stones, for +example, their heaviness, hardness, colour, etc. +</p> +<p> +Hence Anaximenes was to some extent a more logical and definite +thinker than Anaximander, but cannot <a name="30">{30}</a> compare with him in audacity +and originality of thought. +</p> +<p> +<br> +</p> +<p align=center> +<b>Other Ionic Thinkers</b> +</p> +<p> +We have now considered the three chief thinkers of the Ionic School. +Others there were, but they added nothing new to the teaching of these +three. They followed either Thales or Anaximenes in stating the first +principle of the world either as water or as air. Hippo, for example, +followed Thales, and for him the world is composed of water, Idaeus +agreed with Anaximenes that it is derived from air. Diogenes of +Apollonia is chiefly remarkable for the fact that he lived at a very +much later date. He was a contemporary of Anaxagoras, and opposed to +the more developed teachings of that philosopher the crude materialism +of the Ionic School. Air was by him considered to be the ground of all +things. +</p> +<p> +<a name="31">{31}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERIII">CHAPTER III</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +THE PYTHAGOREANS +</p> +<p> +Not much is known of the life of Pythagoras. Three so-called +biographies have come down to us from antiquity, but they were written +hundreds of years after the event, and are filled with a tissue of +extravagant fancies, and with stories of miracles and wonders worked +by Pythagoras. All sorts of fantastic legends seem to have gathered +very early around his life, obscuring from us the actual historical +details. A few definite facts, however, are known. He was born +somewhere between 580 and 570 B.C. at Samos, and about middle age he +migrated to Crotona in South Italy. According to legend, before he +arrived in South Italy he had travelled extensively in Egypt and other +countries of the East. There is, however, no historical evidence of +this. There is nothing in itself improbable in the belief that +Pythagoras made these travels, but it cannot be accepted as proved for +lack of evidence. The legend is really founded simply upon the +oriental flavour of his doctrines. In middle age he arrived in South +Italy and settled at Crotona. There he founded the Pythagorean Society +and lived for many years at the head of it. His later life, the date +and manner of his death, are not certainly known. +</p> +<p> +Now it is important to note that the Pythagorean <a name="32">{32}</a> Society was not +primarily a school of philosophy at all. It was really a religious and +moral Order, a Society of religious reformers. The Pythagoreans were +closely associated with the Orphic Sect, and took from it the belief +in the transmigration of souls, including transmigration of human +souls into animals. They also taught the doctrine of the "wheel of +things," and the necessity of obtaining "release" from it, by which +one could escape from the weary round of reincarnate lives. Thus they +shared with the Orphic religious Sect the principle of reincarnation. +The Orphic Sect believed that "release" from the wheel of life was to +be obtained by religious ceremonial and ritual. The Pythagoreans had a +similar ritual, but they added to this the belief that intellectual +pursuits, the cultivation of science and philosophy, and, in general, +the intellectual contemplation of the ultimate things of the universe +would be of great help towards the "release" of the soul. From this +arose the tendency to develop science and philosophy. Gradually their +philosophy attained a semi-independence from their religious rites +which justifies us in regarding it definitely as philosophy. +</p> +<p> +The Pythagorean ethical views were rigorous and ascetic in character. +They insisted upon the utmost purity of life in the members of the +Order. Abstinence from flesh was insisted upon, although this was +apparently a late development. We know that Pythagoras himself was not +a total abstainer from flesh. They forbade the eating of beans. They +wore a garb peculiar to themselves. The body, they taught, is the +prison or tomb of the soul. They thought that one must not attempt to +obtain "release" by suicide, because "man is the <a name="33">{33}</a> property of +God," the chattel of God. They were not politicians in the modern +sense, but their procedure in practice amounted to the greatest +possible interference in politics. It appears that the Pythagoreans +attempted to impose their ordinances upon the ordinary citizens of +Crotona. They aimed at the supersession of the State by their own +Order and they did actually capture the government of Crotona for a +short period. This led to attacks on the Order, and the persecution of +its members. When the plain citizen of Crotona was told not to eat +beans, and that under no circumstances could he eat his own dog, this +was too much. A general persecution occurred. The meeting place of the +Pythagoreans was burnt to the ground, the Society was scattered, and +its members killed or driven away. This occurred between the years 440 +and 430 B.C. Some years later the Society revived and continued its +activities, but we do not hear much of it after the fourth century +B.C. +</p> +<p> +It was largely a mystical society. The Pythagoreans developed their +own ritual, ceremonial and mysteries. This love of mystery, and their +general character as miracle-mongers, largely account for the legends +which grew up around the life of Pythagoras himself. Their scientific +activities were also considerable. They enforced moral self-control. +They cultivated the arts and crafts, gymnastics, music, medicine, and +mathematics. The development of mathematics in early Greece was +largely the work of the Pythagoreans. Pythagoras is said to have +discovered the 47th Proposition of Euclid, and to have sacrificed an +ox in honour thereof. And there is good reason to believe that +practically the whole of the substance of the First Book of Euclid is +the work of Pythagoras. +</p> +<p> +<a name="34">{34}</a> +</p> +<p> +Turning now to their philosophical teaching, the first thing that we +have to understand is that we cannot speak of the philosophy of +Pythagoras, but only of the philosophy of the Pythagoreans. For it is +not known what share Pythagoras had in this philosophy or what share +was contributed by his successors. Now we recognize objects in the +universe by means of their qualities. But the majority of these +qualities are not universal in their scope; some things possess some +qualities; others possess others. A leaf, for example, is green, but +not all things are green. Some things have no colour at all. The same +is true of tastes and smells. Some things are sweet; some bitter. But +there is one quality in things which is absolutely universal in its +scope, which applies to everything in the universe--corporeal or +incorporeal. All things are <i>numerable</i>, and can be counted. Moreover, +it is impossible to conceive a universe in which number is not to be +found. You could easily imagine a universe in which there is no +colour, or no sweet taste, or a universe in which nothing possesses +weight. But you cannot imagine a universe in which there is no number. +This is an inconceivable thought. Upon these grounds we should be +justified in concluding that number is an extremely important aspect +of things, and forms a fundamental pad of the framework of the world. +And it is upon this aspect of things that the Pythagoreans laid +emphasis. +</p> +<p> +They drew attention to proportion, order, and harmony as the dominant +notes of the universe. Now when we examine the ideas of proportion, +order, and harmony, we shall see that they are closely connected with +number. Proportion, for example, must necessarily <a name="35">{35}</a> be expressible +by the relation of one number to another. Similarly order is +measurable by numbers. When we say that the ranks of a regiment +exhibit order, we mean that they are arranged in such a way that the +soldiers stand at certain regular distances from each other, and these +distances are measurable by numbers of feet or inches. Lastly, +consider the idea of harmony. If, in modern times, we were to say that +the universe is a harmonious whole, we should understand that we are +merely using a metaphor from music. But the Pythagoreans lived in an +age when men were not practised in thought, and they confused cosmical +harmony with musical harmony. They thought that the two things were +the same. Now musical harmony is founded upon numbers, and the +Pythagoreans were the first to discover this. The difference of notes +is due to the different numbers of vibrations of the sounding +instrument. The musical intervals are likewise based upon numerical +proportions. So that since, for the Pythagoreans, the universe is a +musical harmony, it follows that the essential character of the +universe is number. The study of mathematics confirmed the +Pythagoreans in this idea. Arithmetic is the science of numbers, and +all other mathematical sciences are ultimately reducible to numbers. +For instance, in geometry, angles are measured by the number of +degrees. +</p> +<p> +Now, as already pointed out, considering all these facts, we might +well be justified in concluding that number is a very important aspect +of the universe, and is fundamental in it. But the Pythagoreans went +much further than this. They drew what seems to us the extraordinary +conclusion that the world is <i>made of</i> <a name="36">{36}</a> numbers. At this point, +then, we reach the heart of the Pythagorean philosophy. Just as Thales +had said that the ultimate reality, the first principle of which +things are composed, is water, so now the Pythagoreans teach that the +first principle of things is number. Number is the world-ground, the +stuff out of which the universe is made. +</p> +<p> +In the detailed application of this principle to the world of things +we have a conglomeration of extraordinary fancies and extravagances. +In the first place, all numbers arise out of the unit. This is the +prime number, every other number being simply so many units. The unit +then is the first in the order of things in the universe. Again, +numbers are divided into odd and even. The universe, said the +Pythagoreans, is composed of pairs of opposites and contradictories, +and the fundamental character of these opposites is that they are +composed of the odd and even. The odd and even, moreover, they +identified with the limited and the unlimited respectively. How this +identification was made seems somewhat doubtful. But it is clearly +connected with the theory of bipartition. An even number can be +divided by two and therefore it does not set a limit to bipartition. +Hence it is unlimited. An odd number cannot be divided by two, and +therefore it sets a limit to bipartition. The limited and the +unlimited become therefore the ultimate principles of the universe. +The Limit is identified with the unit, and this again with the central +fire of the universe. The Limit is first formed and proceeds to draw +more and more of the unlimited towards itself, and to limit it. +Becoming limited, it becomes a definite "something," a thing. So the +formation of the <a name="37">{37}</a> world of things proceeds. The Pythagoreans drew +up a list of ten opposites of which the universe is composed. They are +(1) Limited and unlimited, (2) odd and even, (3) one and many, (4) +right and left, (5) masculine and feminine, (6) rest and motion, (7) +straight and crooked, (8) light and darkness, (9) good and evil, (10) +square and oblong. +</p> +<p> +With the further development of the number-theory Pythagoreanism +becomes entirely arbitrary and without principle. We hear, for +example, that 1 is the point, 2 is the line, 3 is the plane, 4 is the +solid, 5 physical qualities, 6 animation, 7 intelligence, health, +love, wisdom. There is no principle in all this. Identification of the +different numbers with different things can only be left to the whim +and fancy of the individual. The Pythagoreans disagreed among +themselves as to what number is to be assigned to what thing. For +example, justice, they said, is that which returns equal for equal. If +I do a man an injury, justice ordains that injury should be done to +me, thus giving equal for equal. Justice must, therefore, be a number +which returns equal for equal. Now the only numbers which do this are +square numbers. Four equals two into two, and so returns equal for +equal. Four, then, must be justice. But nine is equally the square of +three. Hence other Pythagoreans identified justice with nine. +</p> +<p> +According to Philolaus, one of the most prominent Pythagoreans, the +quality of matter depends upon the number of sides of its smallest +particles. Of the five regular solids, three were known to the +Pythagoreans. That matter whose smallest particles are regular +tetrahedra, said Philolaus, is fire. Similarly earth is composed <a name="38">{38}</a> +of cubes, and the universe is identified with the dodecahedron. This +idea was developed further by Plato in the "Timaeus," where we find +all the five regular solids brought into the theory. +</p> +<p> +The central fire, already mentioned as identified with the unit, is a +characteristic doctrine of the Pythagoreans. Up to this time it had +been believed that the earth is the centre of the universe, and that +everything revolves round it. But with the Pythagoreans the earth +revolves round the central fire. One feels inclined at once to +identify this with the sun. But this is not correct. The sun, like the +earth, revolves round the central fire. We do not see the central fire +because that side of the earth on which we live is perpetually turned +away from it. This involves the theory that the earth revolves round +the central fire in the same period that it takes to rotate upon its +axis. The Pythagoreans were the first to see that the earth is itself +one of the planets, and to shake themselves free from the geocentric +hypothesis. Round the central fire, sometimes mystically called "the +Hearth of the Universe," revolve ten bodies. First is the +"counter-earth," a non-existent body invented by the Pythagoreans, +next comes the earth, then the sun, the moon, the five planets, and +lastly the heaven of the fixed stars. This curious system might have +borne fruit in astronomy. That it did not do so was largely due to the +influence of Aristotle, who discountenanced the theory, and insisted +that the earth is the centre of the universe. But in the end the +Pythagorean view won the day. We know that Copernicus derived the +suggestion of his heliocentric hypothesis from the Pythagoreans. +</p> +<p> +<a name="39">{39}</a> +</p> +<p> +The Pythagoreans also taught "The Great Year," probably a period of +10,000 years, in which the world comes into being and passes away, +going in each such period through the same evolution down to the +smallest details. +</p> +<p> +There is little to be said by way of criticism of the Pythagorean +system. It is entirely crude philosophy. The application of the number +theory issues in a barren and futile arithmetical mysticism. Hegel's +words in this connection are instructive:-- +</p> +<p> +"We may certainly," he says, "feel ourselves prompted to associate the +most general characteristics of thought with the first numbers: saying +one is the simple and immediate, two is difference and mediation, and +three the unity of both these. Such associations however are purely +external; there is nothing in the mere numbers to make them express +these definite thoughts. With every step in this method, the more +arbitrary grows the association of definite numbers with definite +thoughts ... To attach, as do some secret societies of modern times, +importance to all sorts of numbers and figures is, to some extent an +innocent amusement, but it is also a sign of deficiency of +intellectual resource. These numbers, it is said, conceal a profound +meaning, and suggest a deal to think about. But the point in +philosophy is not what you may think but what you do think; and the +genuine air of thought is to be sought in thought itself and not in +arbitrarily selected symbols." [Footnote 3] +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 3: Hegel's <i>Smaller Logic</i>, translated <br> by Wallace, second +edition, page 198.] +</p> +<p> + +</p> +<p> +<a name="40">{40}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERIV">CHAPTER IV</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +THE ELEATICS +</p> +<p> +The Eleatics are so called because the seat of their school was at +Elea, a town in South Italy, and Parmenides and Zeno, the two chief +representatives of the school, were both citizens of Elea. So far we +have been dealing with crude systems of thought in which only the +germs of philosophic thinking can be dimly discerned. Now, however, +with the Eleatics we step out definitely for the first time upon the +platform of philosophy. Eleaticism is the first true philosophy. In it +there emerges the first factor of the truth, however poor, meagre, and +inadequate. For philosophy is not, as many persons suppose, simply a +collection of freak speculations, which we may study in historical +order, but at the end of which, God alone knows which we ought to +believe. On the contrary, the history of philosophy presents a +definite line of evolution. The truth unfolds itself gradually in +time. +</p> +<p> +<br> +</p> +<p align=center> +<b>Xenophanes</b> +</p> +<p> +The reputed founder of the Eleatic School was Xenophanes. It is, +however, doubtful whether Xenophanes ever went to Elea. Moreover, he +belongs more properly <a name="41">{41}</a> to the history of religion than to the +history of philosophy. The real creator of the Eleatic School was +Parmenides. But Parmenides seized upon certain germs of thought latent +in Xenophanes and transmuted them into philosophic principles. We +have, therefore, in the first instance, to say something of +Xenophanes. He was born about the year 576 B.C., at Colophon in Ionia. +His long life was spent in wandering up and down the cities of Hellas, +as a poet and minstrel, singing songs at banquets and festivals. +Whether, as sometimes stated; he finally settled at Elea is a matter +of doubt, but we know definitely that at the advanced age of +ninety-two he was still wandering about Greece. His philosophy, such +as it is, is expressed in poems. He did not, however, write +philosophical poems, but rather elegies and satires upon various +subjects, only incidentally expressing his religious views therein. +Fragments of these poems have come down to us. +</p> +<p> +Xenophanes is the originator of the quarrel between philosophy and +religion. He attacked the popular religious notions of the Greeks with +a view to founding a purer and nobler conception of Deity. Popular +Greek religion consisted of a belief in a number of gods who were +conceived very much as in the form of human beings. Xenophanes attacks +this conception of God as possessing human form. It is absurd, he +says, to suppose that the gods wander about from place to place, as +represented in the Greek legends. It is absurd to suppose that the +gods had a beginning. It is disgraceful to impute to them stories of +fraud, adultery, theft and deceit. And Xenophanes inveighs against +Homer and Hesiod for disseminating these degrading conceptions <a name="42">{42}</a> of +the Deity. He argues, too, against the polytheistic notion of a +plurality of gods. That which is divine can only be one. There can +only be one best. Therefore, God is to be conceived as one. And this +God is comparable to mortals neither in bodily form nor understanding. +He is "all eye, all ear, all thought." It is he "who, without trouble, +by his thought governs all things." But it would be a mistake to +suppose that Xenophanes thought of this God as a being external to the +world, governing it from the outside, as a general governs his +soldiers. On the contrary, Xenophanes identified God with the world. +The world is God, a sentient being, though without organs of sense. +Looking out into the wide heavens, he said, "The One is God." +[Footnote 4] The thought of Xenophanes is therefore more properly +described as pantheism than as monotheism. God is unchangeable, +immutable, undivided, unmoved, passionless, undisturbed. Xenophanes +appears, thus, rather as a religious reformer than as a philosopher. +Nevertheless, inasmuch as he was the first to enunciate the +proposition "All is one," he takes his place in philosophy. It was +upon this thought that Parmenides built the foundations of the Eleatic +philosophy. +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 4: Aristotle, <i>Metaphysics</i>, Book I. chapter v.] +</p> +<p> +Certain other opinions of Xenophanes have been preserved. He observed +fossils, and found shells inland, and the forms of fish and sea-weed +embedded in the rocks in the quarries of Syracuse and elsewhere. From +these he concluded that the earth had risen out of the sea and would +again partially sink into it. Then the human race would be destroyed. +But the earth would again rise from the sea and the human race would +again <a name="43">{43}</a> be renewed. He believed that the sun and stars were burning +masses of vapour. The sun, he thought, does not revolve round the +earth. It goes on in a straight line, and disappears in the remote +distance in the evening. It is not the same sun which rises the next +morning. Every day a new sun is formed out of the vapours of the sea. +This idea is connected with his general attitude towards the popular +religion. His motive was to show that the sun and stars are not divine +beings, but like other beings, ephemeral. Xenophanes also ridiculed +the Pythagoreans, especially their doctrine of re-incarnation. +</p> +<p> +<br> +</p> +<p align=center> +<b>Parmenides</b> +</p> +<p> +Parmenides was born about 514 B.C. at Elea. Not much is known of his +life. He was in his early youth a Pythagorean, but recanted that +philosophy and formulated a philosophy of his own. He was greatly +revered in antiquity both for the depth of his intellect, and the +sublimity and nobility of his character. Plato refers to him always +with reverence. His philosophy is comprised in a philosophic didactic +poem which is divided into two parts. The first part expounds his own +philosophy and is called "the way of truth." The second part describes +the false opinions current in his day and is called "the way of +opinion." +</p> +<p> +The reflection of Parmenides takes its rise from observation of the +transitoriness and changeableness of things. The world, as we know it, +is a world of change and mutation. All things arise and pass away. +Nothing is permanent, nothing stands. One moment it is, another moment +it is not. It is as true to say of <a name="44">{44}</a> anything, that it is not, as +that it is. The truth of things cannot lie here, for no knowledge of +that which is constantly changing is possible. Hence the thought of +Parmenides becomes the effort to find the eternal amid the shifting, +the abiding and everlasting amid the change and mutation of things. +And there arises in this way the antithesis between Being and +not-being. The absolutely real is Being. Not-being is the unreal. +Not-being is not at all. And this not-being he identifies with +becoming, with the world of shifting and changing things, the world +which is known to us by the senses. The world of sense is unreal, +illusory, a mere appearance. It is not-being. Only Being truly is. As +Thales designated water the one reality, as the Pythagoreans named +number, so now for Parmenides the sole reality, the first principle of +things, is Being, wholly unmixed with not-being, wholly excludent of +all becoming. The character of Being he describes, for the most part, +in a series of negatives. There is in it no change, it is absolutely +unbecome and imperishable. It has neither beginning nor end, neither +arising nor passing away. If Being began, it must have arisen either +from Being or from not-being. But for Being to arise out of Being, +that is not a beginning, and for Being to arise out of not-being is +impossible, since there is then no reason why it should arise later +rather than sooner. Being cannot come out of not-being, nor something +out of nothing. <i>Ex nihilo nihil fit</i>. This is the fundamental thought +of Parmenides. Moreover, we cannot say of Being that it was, that it +is, that it will be. There is for it no past, no present, and no +future. It is rather eternally and timelessly present. It is undivided +and indivisible. For anything to be divided <a name="45">{45}</a> it must be divided by +something other than itself. But there is nothing other than Being; +there is no not-being. Therefore there is nothing by which Being can +be divided. Hence it is indivisible. It is unmoved and undisturbed, +for motion and disturbance are forms of becoming, and all becoming is +excluded from Being. It is absolutely self-identical. It does not +arise from anything other than itself. It does not pass into anything +other than itself. It has its whole being in itself. It does not +depend upon anything else for its being and reality. It does not pass +over into otherness; it remains, steadfast, and abiding in itself. Of +positive character Being has nothing. Its sole character is simply its +being. It cannot be said that it is this or that; it cannot be said +that it has this or that quality, that it is here or there, then or +now. It simply <i>is</i>. Its only quality is, so to speak, "isness." +</p> +<p> +But in Parmenides there emerges for the first time a distinction of +fundamental importance in philosophy, the distinction between Sense +and Reason. The world of falsity and appearance, of becoming, of +not-being, this is, says Parmenides, the world which is presented to +us by the senses. True and veritable Being is known to us only by +reason, by thought. The senses therefore, are, for Parmenides, the +sources of all illusion and error. Truth lies only in reason. This is +exceedingly important, because this, <i>that truth lies in reason and not +in the world of sense</i>, is the fundamental position of idealism. +</p> +<p> +The doctrine of Being, just described, occupies the first part of the +poem of Parmenides. The second part is the way of false opinion. But +whether Parmenides is here simply giving an account of the false +philosophies <a name="46">{46}</a> of his day, (and in doing this there does not seem +much point,) or whether he was, with total inconsistency, attempting, +in a cosmological theory of his own, to explain the origin of that +world of appearance and illusion, whose very being he has, in the +first part of the poem, denied--this does not seem to be clear. The +theory here propounded, at any rate, is that the sense-world is +composed of the two opposites, the hot and the cold, or light and +darkness. The more hot there is, the more life, the more reality; the +more cold, the more unreality and death. +</p> +<p> +What position, now, are we to assign to Parmenides in philosophy? How +are we to characterize his system? Such writers as Hegel, Erdmann, and +Schwegler, have always interpreted his philosophy in an idealistic +sense. Professor Burnet, however, takes the opposite view. To quote +his own words: "Parmenides is not, as some have said, the father of +idealism. On the contrary, all materialism depends upon his view." +[Footnote 5] Now if we cannot say whether Parmenides was a materialist +or an idealist, we cannot be said to understand much about his +philosophy. The question is therefore of cardinal importance. Let us +see, in the first place, upon what grounds the materialistic +interpretation of Parmenides is based. It is based upon a fact which I +have so far not mentioned, leaving it for explanation at this moment. +Parmenides said that Being, which is for him the ultimate reality, +occupies space, is finite, and is spherical or globe-shaped. Now that +which occupies space, and has shape, is matter. The ultimate reality +of things, therefore, is conceived by Parmenides as material, and +this, of course, is the <a name="47">{47}</a> cardinal thesis of materialism. This +interpretation of Parmenides is further emphasized in the disagreement +between himself and Melissus, as to whether Being is finite or +infinite. Melissus was a younger adherent of the Eleatic School, whose +chief interest lies in his views on this question. His philosophical +position in general is the same as that of Parmenides. But on this +point they differed. Parmenides asserted that Being is globe-shaped, +and therefore finite. Now it was an essential part of the doctrine of +Parmenides that empty space is non-existent. Empty space is an +existent non-existence. This is self-contradictory, and for +Parmenides, therefore, empty space is simply not-being. There are, for +example, no interstices, or empty spaces between the particles of +matter. Being is "the full," that is, full space with no mixture of +empty space in it. Now Melissus agreed with Parmenides that there is +no such thing as empty space; and he pointed out, that if Being is +globe-shaped, it must be bounded on the outside by empty space. And as +this is impossible, it cannot be true that Being is globe-shaped, or +finite, but must, on the contrary, extend illimitably through space. +This makes it quite clear that Parmenides, Melissus, and the Eleatics +generally, did regard Being as, in some sense, material. +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 5: <i>Early Greek Philosophy</i>, chap. iv. § 89.] +</p> +<p> +Now, however, let us turn to the other side of the picture. What +ground is there for regarding Parmenides as an idealist? In the first +place, we may say that his ultimate principle, Being, whatever he may +have thought of it, is not in fact material, but is essentially an +abstract thought, a concept. Being is not here, it is not there. It is +not in any place or time. It is not to be found by the senses. It is +to be found only in reason. <a name="48">{48}</a> We form the idea of Being by the +process of abstraction. For example, we see this desk. Our entire +knowledge of the desk consists in our knowledge of its qualities. It +is square, brown, hard, odourless, etc. Now suppose we successively +strip off these qualities in thought--its colour, its size, its shape. +We shall ultimately be left with nothing at all except its mere being. +We can no longer say of it that it is hard, square, etc. We can only +say "it is." As Parmenides said, Being is not divisible, movable; it +is not here nor there, then nor now. It simply "is." This is the +Eleatic notion of Being, and it is a pure concept. It may be compared +to such an idea as "whiteness." We cannot see "whiteness." We see +white things, but not "whiteness" itself. What, then, is "whiteness"? +It is a concept, that is to say, not a particular thing, but a general +idea, which we form by abstraction, by considering the quality which +all white things have in common, and neglecting the qualities in which +they differ. Just so, if we consider the common character of all +objects in the universe, and neglect their differences, we shall find +that what they all have in common is simply "being." Being then is a +general idea, or concept. It is a thought, and not a thing. +Parmenides, therefore, actually placed the absolute reality of things +in an idea, in a thought, though he may have conceived it in a +material and sensuous way. Now the cardinal thesis of idealism is +precisely this, that the absolute reality, of which the world is a +manifestation, consists in thought, in concepts. Parmenides, on this +view, was an idealist. +</p> +<p> +Moreover, Parmenides has clearly made the distinction between sense +and reason. True Being is not known to <a name="49">{49}</a> the senses, but only to +reason, and this distinction is an essential feature of all idealism. +Materialism is precisely the view that reality is to be found in the +world of sense. But the proposition of Parmenides is the exact +opposite of this, namely, that reality is to be found only in reason. +Again, there begins to appear for the first time in Parmenides the +distinction between reality and appearance. Parmenides, of course, +would not have used these terms, which have been adopted in modern +times. But the thought which they express is unmistakably there. This +outward world, the world of sense, he proclaims to be illusion and +appearance. Reality is something which lies behind, and is invisible +to the senses. Now the very essence of materialism is that this +material world, this world of sense, is the real world. Idealism is +the doctrine that the sense-world is an appearance. How then can +Parmenides be called a materialist? +</p> +<p> +How are we to reconcile these two conflicting views of Parmenides? I +think the truth is that these two contradictories lie side by side in +Parmenides unreconciled, and still mutually contradicting each other. +Parmenides himself did not see the contradiction. If we emphasize the +one side, then Parmenides was a materialist. If we emphasize the other +side, then he is to be interpreted as an idealist. In point of fact, +in the history of Greek philosophy, both these sides of Parmenides +were successively emphasized. He became the father both of materialism +and of idealism. His immediate successors, Empedocles and Democritus, +seized upon the materialistic aspect of his thought, and developed it. +The essential thought of Parmenides was that Being cannot arise from +not-being, and that Being neither <a name="50">{50}</a> arises nor passes away. If we +apply this idea to matter we get what in modern times is called the +doctrine of the "indestructibility of matter." Matter has no beginning +and no end. The apparent arising and passing away of things is simply +the aggregation and separation of particles of matter which, in +themselves, are indestructible. This is precisely the position of +Democritus. And his doctrine, therefore, is a materialistic rendering +of the main thought of Parmenides that Being cannot arise from +not-being or pass into not-being. +</p> +<p> +It was not till the time of Plato that the idealistic aspect of the +Parmenidean doctrine was developed. It was the genius of Plato which +seized upon the germs of idealism in Parmenides and developed them. +Plato was deeply influenced by Parmenides. His main doctrine was that +the reality of the world is to be found in thought, in concepts, in +what is called "the Idea." And he identified the Idea with the Being +of Parmenides. +</p> +<p> +But still, it may be asked, which is the true view of Parmenides? +Which is the historical Parmenides? Was not Plato in interpreting him +idealistically reading his own thought into Parmenides? Are not we, if +we interpret him as an idealist, reading into him later ideas? In one +sense this is perfectly true. It is clear from what Parmenides himself +said that he regarded the ultimate reality of things as material. It +would be a complete mistake to attribute to him a fully developed and +consistent system of idealism. If you had told Parmenides that he was +an idealist, he would not have understood you. The distinction between +materialism and idealism was not then developed. If you had told him, +moreover, that Being is a concept, he would not have understood <a name="51">{51}</a> +you, because the theory of concepts was not developed until the time +of Socrates and Plato. Now it is the function of historical criticism +to insist upon this, to see that later thought is not attributed to +Parmenides. But if this is the function of historical scholarship, it +is equally the function of philosophic insight to seize upon the germs +of a higher thought amid the confused thinking of Parmenides, to see +what he was groping for, to see clearly what he saw only vaguely and +dimly, to make explicit what in him was merely implicit, to exhibit +the true inwardness of his teaching, to separate what is valuable and +essential in it from what is worthless and accidental. And I say that +in this sense the true and essential meaning of Parmenides is his +idealism. I said in the first chapter that philosophy is the movement +from sensuous to non-sensuous thought. I said that it is only with the +utmost difficulty that this movement occurs. And I said that even the +greatest philosophers have sometimes failed herein. In Parmenides we +have the first example of this. He began by propounding the truth that +Being is the essential reality, and Being, as we saw, is a concept. +But Parmenides was a pioneer. He trod upon unbroken ground. He had not +behind him, as we have, a long line of idealistic thinkers to guide +him. So he could not maintain this first non-sensuous thought. He +could not resist the temptation to frame for himself a mental image, a +picture, of Being. Now all mental images and pictures are framed out +of materials supplied to us by the senses. Hence it comes about that +Parmenides pictured Being as a globe-shaped something occupying space. +But this is not the truth of Parmenides. This is simply his failure to +realise <a name="52">{52}</a> and understand his own principle, and to think his own +thought. It is true that his immediate successors, Empedocles and +Democritus, seized upon this, and built their philosophies upon it. +But in doing so they were building upon the darkness of Parmenides, +upon his dimness of vision, upon his inability to grapple with his own +idea. It was Plato who built upon the light of Parmenides. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +<b>Zeno</b> +</p> +<p> +The third and last important thinker of the Eleatic School is Zeno +who, like Parmenides, was a man of Elea. His birth is placed about 489 +B.C. He composed a prose treatise in which he developed his +philosophy. Zeno's contribution to Eleaticism is, in a sense, entirely +negative. He did not add anything positive to the teachings of +Parmenides. He supports Parmenides in the doctrine of Being. But it is +not the conclusions of Zeno that are novel, it is rather the reasons +which he gave for them. In attempting to support the Parmenidean +doctrine from a new point of view he developed certain ideas about the +ultimate character of space and time which have since been of the +utmost importance in philosophy. Parmenides had taught that the world +of sense is illusory and false. The essentials of that world are two-- +multiplicity and change. True Being is absolutely one; there is in it +no plurality or multiplicity. Being, moreover, is absolutely static +and unchangeable. There is in it no motion. Multiplicity and motion +are the two characteristics of the false world of sense. Against +multiplicity and motion, therefore, Zeno directed his <a name="53">{53}</a> arguments, +and attempted indirectly to support the conclusions of Parmenides by +showing that multiplicity and motion are impossible. He attempted to +force multiplicity and motion to refute themselves by showing that, if +we assume them as real, contradictory propositions follow from that +assumption. Two propositions which contradict each other cannot both +be true. Therefore the assumptions from which both follow, namely, +multiplicity and motion, cannot be real things. +</p> +<p> + +</p> +<p align=center> +<i>Zeno's arguments against multiplicity</i>. +</p> +<p> +(1) If the many is, it must be both infinitely small and infinitely +large. The many must be infinitely small. For it is composed of units. +This is what we mean by saying that it is many. It is many parts or +units. These units must be indivisible. For if they are further +divisible, then they are not units. Since they are indivisible they +can have no magnitude, for that which has magnitude is divisible. The +many, therefore, is composed of units which have no magnitude. But if +none of the parts of the many have magnitude, the many as a whole has +none. Therefore, the many is infinitely small. But the many must also +be infinitely large. For the many has magnitude, and as such, is +divisible into parts. These parts still have magnitude, and are +therefore further divisible. However far we proceed with the division +the parts still have magnitude and are still divisible. Hence the many +is divisible <i>ad infinitum</i>. It must therefore be composed of an +infinite number of parts, each having magnitude. But the smallest +magnitude, multiplied by infinity, becomes an infinite magnitude. +Therefore the many is infinitely large. (2) The <a name="54">{54}</a> many must be, in +number, both limited and unlimited. It must be limited because it is +just as many as it is, no more, no less. It is, therefore, a definite +number. But a definite number is a finite or limited number. But the +many must be also unlimited in number. For it is infinitely divisible, +or composed of an infinite number of parts. +</p> +<p> + +</p> +<p align=center> +<i>Zeno's arguments against motion</i>. +</p> +<p> +(1) In order to travel a distance, a body must first travel half the +distance. There remains half left for it still to travel. It must then +travel half the remaining distance. There is still a remainder. This +progress proceeds infinitely, but there is always a remainder +untravelled. Therefore, it is impossible for a body to travel from one +point to another. It can never arrive. (2) Achilles and the tortoise +run a race. If the tortoise is given a start, Achilles can never catch +it up. For, in the first place, he must run to the point from which +the tortoise started. When he gets there, the tortoise will have gone +to a point further on. Achilles must then run to that point, and finds +then that the tortoise has reached a third point. This will go on for +ever, the distance between them continually diminishing, but never +being wholly wiped out. Achilles will never catch up the tortoise. (3) +This is the story of the flying arrow. An object cannot be in two +places at the same time. Therefore, at any particular moment in its +flight the arrow is in one place and not in two. But to be in one +place is to be at rest. Therefore in each and every moment of its +flight it is at rest. It is thus at rest throughout. Motion is +impossible. +</p> +<p> +<a name="55">{55}</a> +</p> +<p> +This type of argument is, in modern times, called "antinomy." An +antinomy is a proof that, since two contradictory propositions equally +follow from a given assumption, that assumption must be false. Zeno is +also called by Aristotle the inventor of dialectic. Dialectic +originally meant simply discussion, but it has come to be a technical +term in philosophy, and is used for that type of reasoning which seeks +to develop the truth by making the false refute and contradict itself. +The conception of dialectic is especially important in Zeno, Plato, +Kant, and Hegel. +</p> +<p> +All the arguments which Zeno uses against multiplicity and motion are +in reality merely variations of one argument. That argument is as +follows. It applies equally to space, to time, or to anything which +can be quantitatively measured. For simplicity we will consider it +only in its spatial significance. Any quantity of space, say the space +enclosed within a circle, must either be composed of ultimate +indivisible units, or it must be divisible <i>ad infinitum</i>. If it is +composed of indivisible units, these must have magnitude, and we are +faced with the contradiction of a magnitude which cannot be divided. +If it is divisible <i>ad infinitum</i>, we are faced with the contradiction +of supposing that an infinite number of parts can be added up and make +a finite sum-total. It is thus a great mistake to suppose that Zeno's +stories of Achilles and the tortoise, and of the flying arrow, are +merely childish puzzles. On the contrary, Zeno was the first, by means +of these stories, to bring to light the essential contradictions which +lie in our ideas of space and time, and thus to set an important +problem for all subsequent philosophy. +</p> +<p> +<a name="56">{56}</a> +</p> +<p> +All Zeno's arguments are based upon the one argument described above, +which may be called the antinomy of infinite divisibility. For +example, the story of the flying arrow. At any moment of its flight, +says Zeno, it must be in one place, because it cannot be in two places +at the same moment. This depends upon the view of time as being +infinitely divisible. It is only in an infinitesimal moment, an +absolute moment having no duration, that the arrow is at rest. This, +however, is not the only antinomy which we find in our conceptions of +space and time. Every mathematician is acquainted with the +contradictions immanent in our ideas of infinity. For example, the +familiar proposition that parallel straight lines meet at infinity, is +a contradiction. Again, a decreasing geometrical progression can be +added up to infinity, the infinite number of its terms adding up in +the sum-total to a finite number. The idea of infinite space itself is +a contradiction. You can say of it exactly what Zeno said of the many. +There must be in existence as much space as there is, no more. But +this means that there must be a definite and limited amount of space. +Therefore space is finite. On the other hand, it is impossible to +conceive a limit to space. Beyond the limit there must be more space. +Therefore space is infinite. Zeno himself gave expression to this +antinomy in the form of an argument which I have not so far mentioned. +He said that everything which exists is in space. Space itself exists, +therefore space must be in space. That space must be in another space +and so <i>ad infinitum</i>. This of course is merely a quaint way of saying +that to conceive a limit to space is impossible. +</p> +<p> +But to return to the antinomy of infinite divisibility, <a name="57">{57}</a> on which +most of Zeno's arguments rest, you will perhaps expect me to say +something of the different solutions which have been offered. In the +first place, we must not forget Zeno's own solution. He did not +propound this contradiction for its own sake, but to support the +thesis of Parmenides. His solution is that as multiplicity and motion +contain these contradictions, therefore multiplicity and motion cannot +be real. Therefore, there is, as Parmenides said, only one Being, with +no multiplicity in it, and excludent of all motion and becoming. The +solution given by Kant in modern times is essentially similar. +According to Kant, these contradictions are immanent in our +conceptions of space and time, and since time and space involve these +contradictions it follows that they are not real beings, but +appearances, mere phenomena. Space and time do not belong to things as +they are in themselves, but rather to our way of looking at things. +They are forms of our perception. It is our minds which impose space +and time upon objects, and not objects which impose space and time +upon our minds. Further, Kant drew from these contradictions the +conclusion that to comprehend the infinite is beyond the capacity of +human reason. He attempted to show that, wherever we try to think the +infinite, whether the infinitely large or the infinitely small, we +fall into irreconcilable contradictions. Therefore, he concluded that +human faculties are incapable of apprehending infinity. As might be +expected, many thinkers have attempted to solve the problem by denying +one or other side of the contradiction, by saying that one or other +side does not follow from the premises, that one is true and the other +false. David Hume, for example, <a name="58">{58}</a> denied the infinite divisibility +of space and time, and declared that they are composed of indivisible +units having magnitude. But the difficulty that it is impossible to +conceive of units having magnitude which are yet indivisible is not +satisfactorily explained by Hume. And in general, it seems that any +solution which is to be satisfactory must somehow make room for both +sides of the contradiction. It will not do to deny one side or the +other, to say that one is false and the other true. A true solution is +only possible by rising above the level of the two antagonistic +principles and taking them both up to the level of a higher +conception, in which both opposites are reconciled. +</p> +<p> +This was the procedure followed by Hegel in his solution of the +problem. Unfortunately his solution cannot be fully understood without +some knowledge of his general philosophical principles, on which it +wholly depends. I will, however, try to make it as plain as possible. +In the first place, Hegel did not go out of his way to solve these +antinomies. They appear as mere incidents in the development of his +thought. He did not regard them as isolated cases of contradiction +which occur in thought, as exceptions to a general rule, which +therefore need special explanation. On the contrary, he regarded them, +not as exceptions to, but as examples of, the essential character of +reason. All thought, all reason, for Hegel, contains immanent +contradictions which it first posits and then reconciles in a higher +unity, and this particular contradiction of infinite divisibility is +reconciled in the higher notion of quantity. The notion of quantity +contains two factors, namely the one and the many. Quantity means +precisely a many in <a name="59">{59}</a> one, or a one in many. If, for example, we +consider a quantity of anything, say a heap of wheat, this is, in the +first place, one; it is one whole. Secondly, it is many; for it is +composed of many parts. As one it is continuous; as many it is +discrete. Now the true notion of quantity is not one, apart from many, +nor many apart from one. It is the synthesis of both. It is a many +<i>in</i> one. The antinomy we are considering arises from considering one +side of the truth in a false abstraction from the other. To conceive +unity as not being in itself multiplicity, or multiplicity as not +being unity, is a false abstraction. The thought of the one involves +the thought of the many, and the thought of the many involves the +thought of the one. You cannot have a many without a one, any more +than you can have one end of a stick without the other. Now, if we +consider anything which is quantitatively measured, such as a straight +line, we may consider it, in the first place, as one. In that case it +is a continuous indivisible unit. Next we may regard it as many, in +which case it falls into parts. Now each of these parts may again be +regarded as one, and as such is an indivisible unit; and again each +part may be regarded as many, in which case it falls into further +parts; and this alternating process may go on for ever. This is the +view of the matter which gives rise to the contradictions we have been +considering. But it is a false view. It involves the false abstraction +of first regarding the many as something that has reality apart from +the one, and then regarding the one as something that has reality +apart from the many. If you persist in saying that the line is simply +one and not many, then there arises the theory of indivisible units. +If you <a name="60">{60}</a> persist in saying it is simply many and not one, then it +is divisible <i>ad infinitum</i>. But the truth is that it is neither simply +many nor simply one; it is a many in one, that is, it is a <i>quantity</i>. +Both sides of the contradiction are, therefore, in one sense true, for +each is a factor of the truth. But both sides are also false, if and +in so far as, each sets itself up as the whole truth. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +Critical Remarks on Eleaticism. +</p> +<p> +The consideration of the meaning of Zeno's doctrine will give us an +insight into the essentials of the position of the Eleatics. Zeno said +that motion and multiplicity are not real. Now what does this mean? +Did Zeno mean to say that when he walked about the streets of Elea, it +was not true that he walked about? Did he mean that it was not a fact +that he moved from place to place? When I move my arms, did he mean +that I am not moving my arms, but that they really remain at rest all +the time? If so, we might justly conclude that this philosophy is a +mere craze of speculation run mad, or else a joke. But this is not +what is meant. The Eleatic position is that though the world of sense, +of which multiplicity and motion are essential features, may exist, +yet that outward world is not the true Being. They do not deny that +the world exists. They do not deny that motion exists or that +multiplicity exists. These things no sane man can deny. The existence +of motion and multiplicity is, as Hegel says, as sensuously certain as +the existence of elephants. Zeno, then, does not deny the existence of +the world. What he denies is the truth of existence. What he means is: +certainly there is motion and multiplicity; certainly the world is +here, is present to our senses, but it is not the true world. It is +<a name="61">{61}</a> not reality. It is mere appearance, illusion, an outward show and +sham, a hollow mask which hides the real being of things. You may ask +what is meant by this distinction between appearance and reality. Is +not even an appearance real? It appears. It exists. Even a delusion +exists, and is therefore a real thing. So is not the distinction +between appearance and reality itself meaningless? Now all this is +perfectly true, but it does not comprehend quite what is meant by the +distinction. What is meant is that the objects around us have +existence, but not self-existence, not self-substantiality. That is to +say, their being is not in themselves, their existence is not grounded +in themselves but is grounded in another, and flows from that other. +They exist, but they are not independent existences. They are rather +beings whose being flows into them from another, which itself is +self-existent and self-substantial. They are, therefore, mere +appearances of that other, which is the reality. Of course the +Eleatics did not speak of appearance and reality in these terms. But +this is what they were groping for, and dimly saw. +</p> +<p> +If we now look back upon the road on which we have travelled from the +beginning of Greek philosophy, we shall be able to characterize the +direction in which we have been moving. The earliest Greek +philosophers, the Ionics, propounded the question, "what is the +ultimate principle of things?" and answered it by declaring that the +first principle of things is matter. The second Greek School, the +Pythagoreans, answered the same question by declaring numbers to be +the first principle. The third school, the Eleatics, answered the +question by asserting that the first principle of things is Being. +<a name="62">{62}</a> Now the universe, as we know it, is both quantitative and +qualitative. Quantity and quality are characteristics of every +sense-object. These are not, indeed, the only characteristics of the +world, but they are the only characteristics which have so far come to +light. Now the position of the Ionics was that the ultimate reality is +both quantitative and qualitative, that is to say, it is matter, for +matter is just what has both quantity and quality. The Pythagoreans +abstracted from the quality of things. They stripped off the +qualitative aspect from things, and were accordingly left with only +quantity as ultimate reality. Quantity is the same as number. Hence +the Pythagorean position that the world is made of numbers. The +Eleatic philosophy, proceeding one step further in the same direction, +abstracted from quantity as well as quality. Whereas the Pythagoreans +had denied the qualitative aspect of things, leaving themselves only +with the quantitative, the Eleatics denied both quantity and quality, +for in denying multiplicity they denied quantity. Therefore they are +left with the total abstraction of mere Being which has in it neither +dividedness (quantity), nor positive character (quality). The rise +from the Ionic to the Eleatic philosophy is therefore essentially a +rise from sensuous to pure thinking. The Eleatic Being is a pure +abstract thought. The position of the Pythagoreans on the other hand +is that of semi-sensuous thought. They form the stepping-stone from +the Ionics to the Eleatics. +</p> +<p> +Now let us consider what of worth there is in this Eleatic principle, +and what its defects are. In the first place, it is necessary for us +to understand that the Eleatic philosophy is the first monism. A +monistic philosophy <a name="63">{63}</a> is a philosophy which attempts to explain the +entire universe from one single principle. The opposite of monism is +therefore pluralism, which is that kind of philosophy which seeks to +explain the universe from many ultimate and equally underived +principles. But more particularly and more frequently we speak of the +opposite of monism as being dualism, that is to say, the position that +there are two ultimate principles of explanation. If, for example, we +say that all the good in the universe arises from one source which is +good, and that all the evil arises from another source which is evil, +and that these sources of good and evil cannot be subordinated one to +the other, and that one does not arise out of the other, but both are +co-ordinate and equally primeval and independent, that position would +be a dualism. All philosophy, which is worthy of the name, seeks, in +some sense, a monistic explanation of the universe, and when we find +that a system of philosophy breaks down and fails, then we may nearly +always be sure its defect will reveal itself as an unreconciled +dualism. Such a philosophy will begin with a monistic principle, and +will attempt to derive or deduce the entire universe from it, but +somewhere or other it comes across something in the world which it +cannot bring under that principle. Then it is left with two equally +ultimate existences, neither of which can be derived from the other. +Thus it breaks out into dualism. +</p> +<p> +Now the search for a monistic explanation of things is a universal +tendency of human thought. Wherever we look in the world of thought, +we find that this monistic tendency appears. I have already said that +it appears throughout the history of philosophy. It reveals itself, +<a name="64">{64}</a> too, very clearly in the history of religion. Religion begins in +polytheism, the belief in many gods. From that it passes on to +monotheism, the belief in one God, who is the sole author and creator +of the universe. In Hindu thought we find the same thing. Hindu +thought is based upon the principle that "All is one." Everything in +the world is derived from one ultimate being, Brahman. But not only is +this monistic tendency traceable in religion and philosophy; it is +also traceable in science. The progress of scientific explanation is +essentially a progress towards monism. +<a name="causes"></a> +In the first place, the +explanation of isolated facts consists always in assigning causes for +them. Suppose there is a strange noise in your room at night. You say +it is explained when you find that it is due to the falling of a book +or the scuttling of a rat across the floor. The noise is thus +explained by assigning a cause for it. But this simply means that you +have robbed it of its isolated and exceptional position, and reduced +it to the position of an example of a general law. When the water +freezes in your jug, you say that the cause of this is the cold. It is +an example of the law that whenever the cold reaches a certain degree, +then, other things being equal, water solidifies. But to assign causes +in this way is not really to explain anything. It does not give any +reason for an event happening. You cannot see any reason why water +should solidify in the cold. It merely tells us that the event is not +exceptional, but is an example of what always happens. It reduces the +isolated event to a case of a general law, which "explains," not +merely this one event, but possibly millions of events. It is not +merely that cold solidifies the water in your jug. <a name="65">{65}</a> It equally +solidifies the water in everybody's jug. The same law "explains" all +these, and likewise "explains" icebergs and the polar caps on the +earth and the planet Mars. In fact scientific explanation means the +reduction of millions of facts to one principle. But science does not +stop here. It seeks further to explain the laws themselves, and its +method is to reduce the many laws to one higher and more general law. +A familiar example of this is the explanation of Kepler's laws of the +planetary motions. Kepler laid down three such laws. The first was +that planets move in elliptical orbits with the sun in one focus. The +second was that planets describe equal areas in equal times. The third +was a rather more complicated law. Kepler knew these laws from +observation, but he could not explain them. They were explained by +Newton's discovery of the law of gravitation. Newton proved that +Kepler's three laws could be mathematically deduced from the law of +gravitation. In that way Kepler's laws were explained, and not only +Kepler's laws, but many other astronomical laws and facts. Thus the +explanation of the many isolated facts consists in their reduction to +the one law, and the explanation of the many laws consists in their +reduction to the one more general law. As knowledge advances, the +phenomena of the universe come to be explained by fewer and fewer, and +wider and wider, general principles. Obviously the ultimate goal would +be the explanation of all things by one principle. I do not mean to +say that scientific men have this end consciously in view. But the +point is that the monistic tendency is there. What is meant by the +explanation is the reduction of all things to one principle. +</p> +<p> +<a name="66">{66}</a> +</p> +<p> +In philosophy, in religion, and in science, then, we find this +monistic tendency of thought. But it might be asked how we know that +this universal tendency is right? How do we know that it is not merely +a universal error? Is there no logical or philosophical basis for the +belief that the ultimate explanation of things must be one? Now this +is a subject which takes us far afield from Greek philosophy. The +philosophical basis of monism was never thought out till the time of +Spinoza. So we cannot go into it at length here. But, quite shortly, +the question is--Is there any reason for believing that the ultimate +explanation of things must be one? Now if we are to explain the +universe, two conditions must be fulfilled. In the first place, the +ultimate reality by which we attempt to explain everything must +explain all the other things in the world. It must be possible to +deduce the whole world from it. Secondly, the first principle must +explain itself. It cannot be a principle which itself still requires +explanation by something else. If it is itself not self-explanatory, +but is an ultimate mystery, then even if we succeed in deducing the +universe from it, nothing is thereby explained. This, for example, is +precisely the defect of materialism. Even if we suppose it proved that +all things, including mind, arise from matter, yet the objection +remains that this explains nothing at all, for matter is not a +self-explanatory existence. It is an unintelligible mystery. And to +reduce the universe to an ultimate mystery is not to explain it. +Again; some people think that the world is to be explained by what +they call a "first cause." But why should any cause be the first? Why +should we stop anywhere in the chain of causes? Every cause is <a name="67">{67}</a> +necessarily the effect of a prior cause. The child, who is told that +God made the world, and who inquires who, in that case, made God, is +asking a highly sensible question. Or suppose, in tracing back the +chain of causes, we come upon one which we have reason to say is +really the first, is anything explained thereby? Still we are left +with an ultimate mystery. Whatever the principle of explanation is, it +cannot be a principle of this kind. It must be a principle which +explains itself, and does not lead to something further, such as +another cause. In other words, it must be a principle which has its +whole being in itself, which does not for its completeness refer us to +anything beyond itself. It must be something fully comprehended in +itself, without reference to anything outside it. That is to say, it +must be what we call self-determined or absolute. Now any absolute +principle must necessarily be one. Suppose that it were two. Suppose +you attempt to explain the world by two principles, X and Y, each of +which is ultimate, neither being derived from the other. Then what +relation does X bear to Y? We cannot fully comprehend X without +knowing its relation to Y. Part of the character and being of X is +constituted by its relation to Y. Part of X's character has to be +explained by Y. But that is not to be self-explained. It is to be +explained by something not itself. Therefore, the ultimate explanation +of things must be one. +</p> +<p> +The Eleatics, then, were perfectly correct in saying that all is one, +and that the ultimate principle of the universe, Being, is one. But if +we examine the way in which they carried out their monism, we shall +see that it broke down in a hopeless dualism. How did they <a name="68">{68}</a> +explain the existence of the world? They propounded the principle of +Being, as the ultimate reality. How then did they derive the actual +world from that principle? The answer is that they neither derived it +nor made any attempt to derive it. Instead of deducing the world from +their first principle, they simply denied the reality of the world +altogether. They attempted to solve the problem by denying the +existence of the problem. The world, they said, is simply not-being. +It is an illusion. Now certainly it is a great thing to know which is +the true world, and which the false, but after all this is not an +explanation. To call the world an illusion is not to explain it. If +the world is reality, then the problem of philosophy is, how does that +reality arise? If the world is illusion, then the problem is, how does +that illusion arise? Call it illusion, if you like. But this is not +explaining it. It is simply calling it names. This is the defect, too, +of Indian philosophy in which the world is said to be Maya--delusion. +Hence in the Eleatic philosophy there are two worlds brought face to +face, lying side by side of each other, unreconciled--the world of +Being, which is the true world, and the world of facts, which is +illusion. Although the Eleatics deny the sense-world, and call it +illusion, yet of this illusion they cannot rid themselves. In some +sense or other, this world is here, is present. It comes back upon our +senses, and demands explanation. Call it illusion, but it still stands +beside the true world, and demands that it be deduced from that. So +that the Eleatics have two principles, the false world and the true +world, simply lying side by side, without any connecting link between +them, without anything to <a name="69">{69}</a> show how the one arises from the other. +It is an utterly irreconcilable dualism. +</p> +<p> +It is easy to see why the Eleatic philosophy broke down in this +dualism. It is due to the barrenness of their first principle itself. +Being, they say, has in it no becoming. All principle of motion is +expressly excluded from it. Likewise they deny to it any multiplicity. +It is simply one, without any many in it. If you expressly exclude +multiplicity and becoming from your first principle, then you can +never get multiplicity and becoming out of it. You cannot get out of +it anything that is not in it. If you say absolutely there is no +multiplicity in the Absolute, then it is impossible to explain how +multiplicity comes into this world. It is exactly the same in regard +to the question of quality. Pure Being is without quality. It is mere +"isness." It is an utterly featureless, characterless Being, perfectly +empty and abstract. How then can the quality of things issue from it? +How can all the riches and variety of the world come out of this +emptiness? The Eleatics are like jugglers who try to make you believe +that they get rabbits, guinea-pigs, pieces of string, paper, and +ribbon, out of an entirely empty top-hat. One can see how utterly +barren and empty this principle is, if one translates it into +figurative language, that is to say, into the language of religion. +The Eleatic principle would correspond to a religion in which we said +that "God is," but beyond the fact that He "is," He has absolutely no +character. But surely this is a wholly barren and meagre conception of +the Deity. In the Christian religion we are accustomed to hear such +expressions as, not only that "God is," but that "God is Love," "God +is Power," <a name="70">{70}</a> "God is Goodness," "God is Wisdom." Now objection may +certainly be taken to these predicates and epithets on the ground that +they are merely figurative and anthropomorphic. In fact, they exhibit +the tendency to think non-sensuous objects sensuously. These +predicates are merely picked up from the finite world and applied +haphazard to God, for whom they are entirely inadequate. But at least +these expressions teach us, that out of mere emptiness nothing can +come; that the world cannot arise out of something which is lower and +poorer than itself. Here in the world we find in a certain measure, +love, wisdom, excellence, power. These things cannot spring from a +source which is so poor that it contains nothing but "isness." The +less can arise out of the greater, but not the greater out of the +less. We may contrast Eleaticism not only with Christianity, but even +with popular modern agnosticism. According to this, the Absolute is +unknowable. But what the agnostic means is that human reason is +inadequate to grasp the greatness of the ultimate being. But the +Eleatic principle is, not that in saying "God is Love, Power, Wisdom," +we are saying too little about God, and that our ideas are inadequate +to express the fullness of His being, but on the contrary, that they +express too high an idea for God, of whom nothing can be said except +"He is," because there is absolutely nothing more to say. This +conception of God is the conception of an absolutely empty being. +</p> +<p> +Monism, I said, is a necessary idea in philosophy. The Absolute must +be one. But an utterly abstract monism is impossible. If the Absolute +is simply one, wholly excludent of all process and multiplicity, out +of such an abstraction the process and multiplicity of the <a name="71">{71}</a> world +cannot issue. The Absolute is not simply one, or simply many. It must +be a many in one, as correctly set forth in the Christian doctrine of +the Trinity. Religion moves from an abstract polytheism (God is many) +to an abstract monotheism (God is one; Judaism, Hinduism and Islam). +But it does not stop there. It rightly passes on to a concrete +monotheism (God is many in one; Christianity). There are two popular +misconceptions regarding the doctrine of the Trinity. The first +mistake is that of popular rationalism, the second is that of popular +theology. Popular rationalism asserts that the doctrine of the Trinity +is contrary to reason. Popular theology asserts that it is a mystery +which transcends reason. But the truth is that it neither contradicts +nor transcends reason. On the contrary, it is in itself the highest +manifestation of reason. What is really a mystery, what really +contradicts reason, is to suppose that God, the Absolute, is simply +one without any multiplicity. This contradiction results in the fatal +dualism which broke out in Eleaticism, and has broken out in every +other system of thought, such as that of the Hindus or that of +Spinoza, which begins with the conception of the Absolute as a pure +one, totally exclusive of the many. +</p> +<p> +<a name="72">{72}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERV">CHAPTER V</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +HERACLEITUS +</p> +<p> +Heracleitus was born about 535 B.C., and is believed to have lived to +the age of sixty. This places his death at 475 B.C. He was thus +subsequent to Xenophanes, contemporary with Parmenides, and older than +Zeno. In historical order of time, therefore, he runs parallel to the +Eleatics. Heracleitus was a man of Ephesus in Asia Minor. He was an +aristocrat, descendant of a noble Ephesian family, and occupied in +Ephesus the nominal position of basileus, or King. This, however, +merely meant that he was the Chief Priest of the local branch of the +Eleusinian mysteries, and this position he resigned in favour of his +brother. He appears to have been a man of a somewhat aloof, solitary, +and scornful nature. He looked down, not only upon the common herd, +but even upon the great men of his own race. He mentions Xenophanes +and Pythagoras in terms of obloquy. Homer, he thinks, should be taken +out and whipped. Hesiod he considers to be the teacher of the common +herd, one with them, "a man," he says, "who does not even know day and +night." Upon the common herd of mortals he looks down with infinite +scorn. Some of his sayings remind us not a little of Schopenhauer in +their pungency and sharpness. "Asses prefer straw to <a name="73">{73}</a> gold." "Dogs +bark at everyone they do not know." Many of his sayings, however, are +memorable and trenchant epitomes of practical wisdom. "Man's character +is his fate." "Physicians who cut, burn, stab and rack the sick, +demand a fee for doing it, which they do not deserve to get." From his +aloof and aristocratic standpoint he launched forth denunciations +against the democracy of Ephesus. +</p> +<p> +Heracleitus embodied his philosophical thoughts in a prose treatise, +which was well-known at the time of Socrates, but of which only +fragments have come down to us. His style soon became proverbial for +its difficulty and obscurity, and he gained the nickname of +Heracleitus the "Dark," or the "Obscure." Socrates said of his work +that what he understood of it was excellent, what not, he believed was +equally so, but that the book required a tough swimmer. He has even +been accused of intentional obscurity. But there does not seem to be +any foundation for this charge. The fact is that if he takes no great +trouble to explain his thoughts, neither does he take any trouble to +conceal them. He does not write for fools. His attitude appears to be +that if his readers understand him, well; if not, so much the worse +for his readers. He wastes no time in elaborating and explaining his +thought, but embodies it in short, terse, pithy, and pregnant sayings. +</p> +<p> +His philosophical principle is the direct antithesis of Eleaticism. +The Eleatics had taught that only Being is, and Becoming is not at +all. All change, all Becoming is mere illusion. For Heracleitus, on +the contrary, only Becoming is, and Being, permanence, identity, these +are nothing but illusion. All things sublunary are <a name="74">{74}</a> perpetually +changing, passing over into new forms and new shapes. Nothing stands, +nothing holds fast, nothing remains what it is. "Into the same river," +he says, "we go down, and we do not go down; for into the same river +no man can enter twice; ever it flows in and flows out." Not only does +he deny all absolute permanence, but even a relative permanence of +things is declared to be illusory. We all know that everything has its +term, that all things arise and pass away, from the insects who live +an hour to the "eternal" hills. Yet we commonly attribute to these +things at least a relative permanence, a shorter or longer continuance +in the same state. But even this Heracleitus will not allow. Nothing +is ever the same, nothing remains identical from one consecutive +moment to another. The appearance of relative permanence is an +illusion, like that which makes us think that a wave passing over the +surface of the water remains all the time the same identical wave. +Here, as we know, the water of which the wave is composed changes from +moment to moment, only the form remaining the same. Precisely so, for +Heracleitus, the permanent appearance of things results from the +inflow and outflow in them of equivalent quantities of substance. "All +is flux." It is not, for example, the same sun which sets to-day and +rises to-morrow. It is a new sun. For the fire of the sun burns itself +out and is replenished from the vapours of the sea. +</p> +<p> +Not only do things change from moment to moment. Even in one and the +same moment they are and are not the same. It is not merely that a +thing first is, and then a moment afterwards, is not. It both is and +is not at the same time. The at-onceness of "is" and "is not" <a name="75">{75}</a> is +the meaning of Becoming. We shall understand this better if we +contrast it with the Eleatic principle. The Eleatics described all +things under two concepts, Being and not-being. Being has, for them, +all truth, all reality. Not-being is wholly false and illusory. For +Heracleitus both Being and not-being are equally real. The one is as +true as the other. Both are true, for both are identical. Becoming is +the identity of Being and not-being. For Becoming has only two forms, +namely, the arising of things and their passing away, their beginning +and their end, their origination and their decease. Perhaps you may +think that this is not correct, that there are other forms of change +besides origination and decease. A man is born. That is his +origination. He dies. That is his decease. Between his birth and his +death there are intermediate changes. He grows larger, grows older, +grows wiser or more foolish, his hair turns grey. So also the leaf of +a tree does not merely come into being and pass out of being. It +changes in shape, form, colour. From light green it becomes dark +green, and from dark green, yellow. But there is after all nothing in +all this except origination and decease, not of the thing itself, but +of its qualities. The change from green to yellow is the decease of +green colour, the origination of yellow colour. Origination is the +passage of not-being into Being. Decease is the passage of Being into +not-being. Becoming, then, has in it only the two factors of Being and +not-being, and it means the passing of one into the other. But this +passage does not mean, for Heracleitus, that at one moment there is +Being, and at the next moment not-being. It means that Being and +not-being are in everything at one and the same time. Being is <a name="76">{76}</a> +not-being. Being has not-being in it. Take as an example the problem +of life and death. Ordinarily we think that death is due to external +causes, such as accident or disease. We consider that while life +lasts, it is what it is, and remains what it is, namely life, unmixed +with death, and that it goes on being life until something comes from +outside, as it were, in the shape of external causes, and puts an end +to it. You may have read Metchnikoff's book "The Nature of Man." In +the course of that book he develops this idea. Death, he says, is +always due to external causes. Therefore, if we could remove the +causes, we could conquer death. The causes of death are mostly disease +and accident, for even old age is disease. There is no reason why +science should not advance so far as to eliminate disease and accident +from life. In that case life might be made immortal, or at any rate, +indefinitely prolonged. Now this is founded upon a confusion of ideas. +No doubt death is always due to external causes. Every event in the +world is determined, and wholly determined, by causes. The law of +causation admits of no exception whatever. Therefore it is perfectly +true that in every case of death causes precede it. But, as I +explained in the last chapter, [Footnote 6] to give the cause is not +to give any reason for an event. Causation is never a principle of +explanation of anything. It tells us that the phenomenon A is +invariably and unconditionally followed by the phenomenon B, and we +call A the cause of B. But this only means that whenever B happens, it +happens in a certain regular order and succession of events. But it +does not tell us why B happens at all. The reason of a thing is to be +<a name="77">{77}</a> distinguished from its cause. The reason why a man dies is not to +be found in the causes which bring about his death. The reason rather +is that life has the germ of death already in it, that life is already +death potentially, that Being has not-being in it. The causation of +death is merely the mechanism, by the instrumentality of which, +through one set of causes or another, the inevitable end is brought +about. +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 6: <a href="#causes">Page 64.</a>] +</p> +<p> +Not only is Being, for Heracleitus, identical with not-being, but +everything in the universe has in it its own opposite. Every existent +thing is a "harmony of opposite tensions." A harmony contains +necessarily two opposite principles which, in spite of their +opposition, reveal an underlying unity. That it is by virtue of this +principle that everything in the universe exists, is the teaching of +Heracleitus. All things contain their own opposites within them. In +the struggle and antagonism between hostile principles consists their +life, their being, their very existence. At the heart of things is +conflict. If there were no conflict in a thing, it would cease to +exist. This idea is expressed by Heracleitus in a variety of ways. +"Strife," he says, "is the father of all things." "The one, sundering +from itself, coalesces with itself, like the harmony of the bow and +the lyre." "God is day and night, summer and winter, war and peace, +satiety and hunger." "Join together whole and unwhole, congruous and +incongruous, accordant and discordant, then comes from one all and +from all one." In this sense, too, he censures Homer for having prayed +that strife might cease from among gods and men. If such a prayer were +granted, the universe itself would pass away. +</p> +<p> +<a name="78">{78}</a> +</p> +<p> +Side by side with this metaphysic, Heracleitus lays down a theory of +physics. All things are composed of fire. "This world," he says, +"neither one of the gods nor of the human race has made; but it is, it +was, and ever shall be, an eternally living fire." All comes from +fire, and to fire all returns. "All things are exchanged for fire and +fire for all, as wares for gold and gold for wares." Thus there is +only one ultimate kind of matter, fire, and all other forms of matter +are merely modifications and variations of fire. It is clear for what +reason Heracleitus enunciated this principle. It is an exact physical +parallel to the metaphysical principle of Becoming. Fire is the most +mutable of the elements. It does not remain the same from one moment +to another. It is continually taking up matter in the form of fuel, +and giving off equivalent matter in the form of smoke and vapour. The +primal fire, according to Heracleitus, transmutes itself into air, air +into water, and water into earth. This he calls "the downward path." +To it corresponds "the upward path," the transmutation of earth into +water, water to air, and air to fire. All transformation takes place +in this regular order, and therefore, says Heracleitus, "the upward +and the downward path are one." +</p> +<p> +Fire is further specially identified with life and reason. It is the +rational element in things. The more fire there is, the more life, the +more movement. The more dark and heavy materials there are, the more +death, cold, and not-being. The soul, accordingly, is fire, and like +all other fires it continually burns itself out and needs +replenishment. This it obtains, through the senses and the breath, +from the common life and reason of the <a name="79">{79}</a> world, that is, from the +surrounding and all-pervading fire. In this we live and move and have +our being. No man has a separate soul of his own. It is merely part of +the one universal soul-fire. Hence if communication with this is cut +off, man becomes irrational and finally dies. Sleep is the half-way +house to death. In sleep the passages of the senses are stopped up, +and the outer fire reaches us only through breath. Hence in sleep we +become irrational and senseless, turning aside from the common life of +the world, each to a private world of his own. Heracleitus taught also +the doctrine of periodic world-cycles. The world forms itself out of +fire, and by conflagration passes back to the primitive fire. +</p> +<p> +In his religious opinions Heracleitus was sceptical. But he does not, +like Xenophanes, direct his attacks against the central ideas of +religion, and the doctrine of the gods. He attacks mostly the outward +observances and forms in which the religious spirit manifests itself. +He inveighs against the worship of images, and urges the uselessness +of blood sacrifice. +</p> +<p> +With the Eleatics he distinguishes between sense and reason, and +places truth in rational cognition. The illusion of permanence he +ascribes to the senses. It is by reason that we rise to the knowledge +of the law of Becoming. In the comprehension of this law lies the duty +of man, and the only road to happiness. Understanding this, man +becomes resigned and contented. He sees that evil is the necessary +counterpart of good, and pain the necessary counterpart of pleasure, +and that both together are necessary to form the harmony of the world. +Good and evil are principles on the struggle <a name="80">{80}</a> between which the +very existence of things depends. Evil, too, is necessary, has its +place in the world. To see this is to put oneself above pitiful and +futile struggles against the supreme law of the universe. +</p> +<br> +<a name="81">{81}</a> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERVI">CHAPTER VI</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +EMPEDOCLES +</p> +<p> +Empedocles was a man of Agrigentum in Sicily. The dates of his birth +and death are placed about 495 and 435 B.C. respectively. Like +Pythagoras, he possessed a powerful and magnetic personality. Hence +all kinds of legends quickly grew up and wove themselves round his +life and death. He was credited with the performance of miracles, and +romantic stories were circulated about his death. A man of much +persuasive eloquence he raised himself to the leadership of the +Agrigentine democracy, until he was driven out into exile. +</p> +<p> +The philosophy of Empedocles is eclectic in character. Greek +philosophy had now developed a variety of conflicting principles, and +the task of Empedocles is to reconcile these, and to weld them +together in a new system, containing however no new thought of its +own. In speaking of Parmenides, I pointed out that his teaching may be +interpreted either in an idealistic or a materialistic sense, and that +these two aspects of thought lie side by side in Parmenides, and that +it is possible to emphasize either the one or the other. Empedocles +seizes upon the materialistic side. The essential thought of +Parmenides was that Being cannot pass into not-being, nor not-being +into Being. Whatever is, remains for ever what it is. <a name="82">{82}</a> If we take +that in a purely material context, what it means is that matter has +neither beginning nor end, is uncreated and indestructible. And this +is the first basic principle of Empedocles. On the other hand, +Heracleitus had shown that becoming and change cannot be denied. This +is the second basic principle of Empedocles. That there is no absolute +becoming, no creation, and utter destruction of things, and yet that +things do somehow arise and pass away, this must be explained, these +contradictory ideas must be reconciled. Now if we assert that matter +is uncreated and indestructible, and yet that things arise and pass +away, there is only one way of explaining this. We must suppose that +objects, as wholes begin and cease to be, but that the material +particles of which they are composed are uncreated and indestructible. +This thought now forms the first principle of Empedocles, and of his +successors, Anaxagoras, and the Atomists. +</p> +<p> +Now the Ionic philosophers had taught that all things are composed of +some one ultimate matter. Thales believed it to be water, Anaximenes +air. This necessarily involved that the ultimate kind of matter must +be capable of transformation into other kinds of matter. If it is +water, then water must be capable of turning into brass, wood, iron, +air, or whatever other kind of matter exists. And the same thing +applies to the air of Anaximenes. Parmenides, however, had taught that +whatever is, remains always the same, no change or transformation +being possible. Empedocles here too follows Parmenides, and interprets +his doctrine in his own way. One kind of matter, he thinks, can never +change into another kind of matter; fire never becomes <a name="83">{83}</a> water, nor +does earth ever become air. This leads Empedocles at once to a +doctrine of elements. The word "elements," indeed, is of later +invention, and Empedocles speaks of the elements as "the roots of +all." There are four elements, earth, air, fire, and water. Empedocles +was therefore the originator of the familiar classification of the +four elements. All other kinds of matter are to be explained as +mixtures, in various proportions, of these four. Thus all origination +and decease, as well as the differential qualities of certain kinds of +matter, are now explained by the mixing and unmixing of the four +elements. All becoming is simply composition and decomposition. +</p> +<p> +But the coming together and separation of the elements involves the +movement of particles, and to explain this there must exist some +moving force. The Ionic philosophers had assumed that matter has the +power or force required for movement immanent in itself. The air of +Anaximenes, of its own inherent power, transforms itself into other +kinds of matter. This doctrine Empedocles rejects. Matter is for him +absolutely dead and lifeless, without any principle of motion in +itself. There is, therefore, only one remaining possibility. Forces +acting upon matter from the outside must be assumed. And as the two +essential processes of the world, mixing and unmixing, are opposite in +character, so there must be two opposite forces. These he calls by the +names Love and Hate, or Harmony and Discord. Though these terms may +have an idealistic sound, Empedocles conceives them as entirely +physical and material forces. But he identifies the attractions and +repulsions of human beings, which we call love and hate, with the +universally operating forces of the material world. Human love and +<a name="84">{84}</a> hate are but the manifestations in us of the mechanical forces of +attraction and repulsion at work in the world at large. +</p> +<p> +Empedocles taught the doctrine of periodic world-cycles. The +world-process is, therefore, properly speaking, circular, and has +neither beginning nor end. But in describing this process one must +begin somewhere. We will begin, then, with the sphairos (sphere). In +the primeval sphere the four elements are completely mixed, and +interpenetrate each other completely. Water is not separated off from +air, nor air from earth. All are chaotically mixed together. In any +portion of the sphere there must be an equal quantity of earth, air, +fire and water. The elements are thus in union, and the sole force +operative within the sphere is Love or Harmony. Hence the sphere is +called a "blessed god." Hate, however, exists all round the outside of +the sphere. Hate gradually penetrates from the circumference towards +the centre and introduces the process of separation and disunion of +the elements. This process continues till, like coming together with +like, the elements are wholly separated. All the water is together; +all the fire is together, and so on. When this process of +disintegration is complete, Hate is supreme and Love is entirely +driven out. But Love again begins to penetrate matter, to cause union +and mixture of the elements, and finally brings the world back to the +state of the original sphere. Then the same process begins again. At +what position in this circular movement is our present world to be +placed? The answer is that it is neither in the complete union of the +sphere, nor is it completely disintegrated. It is half-way between the +sphere and the stage of total <a name="85">{85}</a> disintegration. It is proceeding +from the former towards the later, and Hate is gradually gaining the +upper hand. In the formation of the present world from the sphere the +first element to be separated off was air, next fire, then the earth. +Water is squeezed out of the earth by the rapidity of its rotation. +The sky is composed of two halves. One is of fire, and this is the +day. The other is dark matter with masses of fire scattered about in +it, and this is the night. +</p> +<p> +Empedocles believed in the transmigration of souls. He also put +forward a theory of sense-perception, the essential of which is that +like perceives like. The fire in us perceives external fire, and so +with the other elements. Sight is caused by effluences of the fire and +water of the eyes meeting similar effluences from external objects. +</p> +<p> +<a name="86">{86}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERVII">CHAPTER VII</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +THE ATOMISTS +</p> +<p> +The founder of the Atomist philosophy was Leucippus. Practically +nothing is known of his life. The date of his birth, the date of his +death, and his place of residence, are alike unknown, but it is +believed that he was a contemporary of Empedocles and Anaxagoras. +Democritus was a citizen of Abdera in Thrace. He was a man of the +widest learning, as learning was understood in his day. A passion for +knowledge and the possession of adequate means for the purpose, +determined him to undertake extensive travels in order to acquire the +wisdom and knowledge of other nations. He travelled largely in Egypt, +also probably in Babylonia. The date of his death is unknown, but he +certainly lived to a great age, estimated at from ninety to one +hundred years. Exactly what were the respective contributions of +Leucippus and Democritus to the Atomist philosophy, is also a matter +of doubt. But it is believed that all the essentials of this +philosophy were the work of Leucippus, and that Democritus applied and +extended them, worked out details, and made the theory famous. +</p> +<p> +Now we saw that the philosophy of Empedocles was based upon an attempt +to reconcile the doctrine of Parmenides with the doctrine of +Heracleitus. The <a name="87">{87}</a> fundamental thought of Empedocles was that there +is no absolute becoming in the strict sense, no passage of Being into +not-being or not-being into Being. Yet the objects of the senses do, +in some way, arise and pass away, and the only method by which this is +capable of explanation is to suppose that objects, as whole objects, +come to be and cease to be, but that the material particles of which +they are composed are eternally existent. But the detailed development +which Empedocles gave to this principle was by no means satisfactory. +In the first place, if we hold that all objects are composed of parts, +and that all becoming is due to the mixing and unmixing of +pre-existent matter, we must have a theory of particles. And we do +hear vaguely of physical particles in the doctrine of Empedocles, but +no definition is given of their nature, and no clear conception is +formed of their character. Secondly, the moving forces of Empedocles, +Love and Hate, are fanciful and mythological. Lastly, though there are +in Empedocles traces of the doctrine that the qualities of things +depend on the position and arrangement of their particles, this idea +is not consistently developed. For Empedocles there are only four +ultimate kinds of matter, qualitatively distinguished. The +differential qualities of all other kinds of matter must, therefore, +be due to the mixing of these four elements. Thus the qualities of the +four elements are ultimate and underived, but all other qualities must +be founded upon the position and arrangement of particles of the four +elements. This is the beginning of the mechanical explanation of +quality. But to develop this theory fully and consistently, it should +be shown, not merely that some qualities are ultimate and some <a name="88">{88}</a> +derived from position and arrangement of particles, but that all +quality whatever is founded upon position and arrangement. All +becoming is explained by Empedocles as the result of motion of +material particles. To bring this mechanical philosophy to its logical +conclusion, all qualitativeness of things must be explained in the +same way. Hence it was impossible that the philosophy of mechanism and +materialism should stand still in the position in which Empedocles +left it. It had to advance to the position of Atomism. The Atomists, +therefore, maintain the essential position of Empedocles, after +eliminating the inconsistencies which we have just noted. The +philosophy of Empedocles is therefore to be considered as merely +transitional in character. +</p> +<p> +First, the Atomists developed the theory of particles. According to +Leucippus and Democritus, if matter were divided far enough, we should +ultimately come to indivisible units. These indivisible units are +called atoms, and atoms are therefore the ultimate constituents of +matter. They are infinite in number, and are too small to be +perceptible to the senses. Empedocles had assumed four different kinds +of matter. But, for the Atomists, there is only one kind. All the +atoms are composed of exactly the same kind of matter. With certain +exceptions, which I will mention in a moment, they possess no quality. +They are entirely non-qualitative, the only differences between them +being differences of quantity. They differ in size, some being larger, +some smaller. And they likewise differ in shape. Since the ultimate +particles of things thus possess no quality, all the actual qualities +of objects must be due to the <a name="89">{89}</a> arrangement and position of the +atoms. This is the logical development of the tentative mechanism of +Empedocles. +</p> +<p> +I said that the atoms possess no qualities. They must, however, be +admitted to possess the quality of solidity, or impenetrability, since +they are defined as being indivisible. Moreover it is a question +whether the atoms of Democritus and Leucippus were thought to possess +weight, or whether the weight of objects is to be explained, like +other qualities, by the position and movement of the atoms. There is +no doubt that the Epicureans of a later date considered the atoms to +have weight. The Epicureans took over the atomism of Democritus and +Leucippus, with few modifications, and made it the basis of their own +teaching. They ascribed weight to the atoms, and the only question is +whether this was a modification introduced by them, or whether it was +part of the original doctrine of Democritus and Leucippus. +</p> +<p> +The atoms are bounded, and separated off from each other. Therefore, +they must be separated by something, and this something can only be +empty space. Moreover, since all becoming and all qualitativeness of +things are to be explained by the mixing and unmixing of atoms, and +since this involves movement of the atoms, for this reason also empty +space must be assumed to exist, for nothing can move unless it has +empty space to move in. Hence there are two ultimate realities, atoms +and empty space. These correspond respectively to the Being and +not-being of the Eleatics. But whereas the latter denied any reality +to not-being, the Atomists affirm that not-being, that is, empty +space, is just as real as being. Not-being also exists. "Being," said +<a name="90">{90}</a> Democritus, "is by nothing more real than nothing." The atoms +being non-qualitative, they differ in no respect from empty space, +except that they are "full." Hence atoms and the void are also called +the <i>plenum</i> and the <i>vacuum</i>. +</p> +<p> +How, now, is the movement of the atoms brought about? Since all +becoming is due to the separation and aggregation of atoms, a moving +force is required. What is this moving force? This depends upon the +question whether atoms have weight. If we assume that they have +weight, then the origin of the world, and the motion of atoms, becomes +clear. In the system of the Epicureans the original movement of the +atoms is due to their weight, which causes them to fall perpetually +downwards through infinite space. Of course the Atomists had no true +ideas of gravitation, nor did they understand that there is no +absolute up and down. The large atoms are heavier than the smaller. +The matter of which they are composed is always the same. Therefore, +volume for volume, they weigh the same. Their weight is thus +proportional to their size, and if one atom is twice as large as +another, it will also be twice as heavy. Here the Atomists made +another mistake, in supposing that heavier things fall in a vacuum +more quickly than light things. They fall, as a matter of fact, with +the same speed. But according to the Atomists, the heavier atoms, +falling faster, strike against the lighter, and push them to one side +and upwards. Through this general concussion of atoms a vortex is +formed, in which like atoms come together with like. From the +aggregation of atoms worlds are created. As space is infinite and the +atoms go on falling eternally, there must have been innumerable worlds +of which our world is only one. <a name="91">{91}</a> When the aggregated atoms fall +apart again, this particular world will cease to exist. But all this +depends upon the theory that the atoms have weight. According to +Professor Burnet, however, the weight of atoms is a later addition of +the Epicureans. If that is so, it is very difficult to say how the +early Atomists, Leucippus and Democritus, explained the original +motion. What was their moving force, if it was not weight? If the +atoms have no weight, their original movement cannot have been a fall. +"It is safest to say," says Professor Burnet, "that it is simply a +confused motion this way and that." [Footnote 7] Probably this is a +very <i>safe</i> thing to say, because it means nothing in particular. Motion +itself cannot be confused. It is only our ideas of motion which can be +confused. If this theory is correct, then, we can only say that the +Atomists had no definite solution of the problem of the origin of +motion and the character of the moving force. They apparently saw no +necessity for explanation, which seems unlikely in view of the fact +that Empedocles had already seen the necessity of solving the problem, +and given a definite, if unsatisfactory, solution, in his theory of +Love and Hate. This remark would apply to Democritus, if not to +Leucippus. +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 7: <i>Early Greek Philosophy</i>, chap. ix. § 179.] +</p> +<p> +The Atomists also spoke of all movement being under the force of +"necessity." Anaxagoras was at this time teaching that all motion of +things is produced by a world-intelligence, or reason. Democritus +expressly opposes to this the doctrine of necessity. There is no +reason or intelligence in the world. On the contrary, all phenomena +and all becoming are completely determined by blind mechanical causes. +In this connection there arises <a name="92">{92}</a> among the Atomists a polemic +against the popular gods and the popular religion. Belief in gods +Democritus explains as being due to fear of great terrestrial and +astronomical phenomena, such as volcanoes, earthquakes, comets, and +meteors. But somewhat inconsistently with this, Democritus believed +that the air is inhabited by beings resembling men, but larger and of +longer life, and explained belief in the gods as being due to +projection from these of images of themselves composed of atoms which +impinge upon human senses, and produce the ideas of gods. +</p> +<p> +Different kinds of matter must be explained, in any atomic theory, by +the shape, size, and position of the atoms of which they are composed. +Thus the Atomists taught that fire is composed of smooth round atoms. +The soul is also composed of smooth round atoms, and is an +exceptionally pure and refined fire. At death the soul atoms are +scattered, and hence there is, of course, no question of a future +life. Democritus also put forward a theory of perception, according to +which objects project into space images of themselves composed of +atoms. These images strike against the senses. Like atoms are +perceived by like. Thought is true when the soul is equable in +temperature. The sensible qualities of things, such as smell, taste, +colour, do not exist in the things themselves, but merely express the +manner in which they affect our senses, and are therefore relative to +us. A number of the ethical maxims of Democritus have come down to us. +But they are not based in any way upon the Atomic theory, and cannot +be deduced from it. Hence they have no scientific foundation but are +merely detached sayings, epitomizing the experience <a name="93">{93}</a> and worldly +wisdom of Democritus. That one should enjoy oneself as much and vex +oneself as little as possible seems to have been his principal idea. +This, however, is not to be interpreted in any low, degraded, or +sensual way. On the contrary, Democritus says that the happiness of +man does not depend on material possessions, but upon the state of the +soul. He praises equanimity and cheerfulness, and these are best +attained, he thinks, by moderation and simplicity. +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="94">{94}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERVIII">CHAPTER VIII</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +ANAXAGORAS +</p> +<p> +Anaxagoras was born at Clazomenae in Asia Minor about 500 B.C. He was +a man of noble family, and possessed considerable property. He +neglected his property in the search for knowledge and in the pursuit +of science and philosophy. Leaving his home at Clazomenae, he settled +down in Athens. We have not heard so far anything of Athens in the +history of Greek Philosophy. It was Anaxagoras who transplanted +philosophy to Athens, which from his time forward became the chief +centre of Greek thought. At Athens, Anaxagoras came into contact with +all the famous men of the time. He was an intimate friend of Pericles, +the statesman, and of Euripides, the poet. But his friendship with +Pericles cost him dear. There was a strong political faction opposed +to Pericles. So far as we know Anaxagoras never meddled in politics, +but he was a friend of the statesman Pericles, and that was quite +enough. The enemies of Pericles determined to teach Anaxagoras a +lesson, and a charge of atheism and blasphemy was accordingly brought +against him. The particulars of the charge were that Anaxagoras said +that the sun was a red-hot stone, and that the moon was made of earth. +This was quite true, as that is exactly what Anaxagoras did say of the +sun and the moon. But the Greeks <a name="95">{95}</a> regarded the heavenly bodies as +gods; even Plato and Aristotle thought that the stars were divine +beings. To call the sun a red-hot stone, and to say that the moon was +made of earth, was therefore blasphemy according to Greek ideas. +Anaxagoras was charged, tried, and condemned. The details of the +trial, and of what followed, are not known with accuracy. But it +appears that Anaxagoras escaped, probably with the help of Pericles, +and from Athens went back to his native country in Asia Minor. He +settled at Lampsacus, and died there at the age of 72. He was the +author of a treatise in which he wrote down his philosophical ideas. +This treatise was well-known at the time of Socrates, but only +fragments now remain. +</p> +<p> +The foundation of the philosophy of Anaxagoras is the same as that of +Empedocles and the Atomists. He denied any absolute becoming in the +strict sense of the passing of being into not-being and not-being into +being. Matter is uncreated and indestructible, and all becoming must +be accounted for by the mixing and unmixing of its component parts. +This principle Anaxagoras himself expressed with great clearness, in a +fragment of his treatise which has come down to us. "The Greeks," he +says, "erroneously assume origination and destruction, for nothing +originates and nothing is destroyed. All is only mixed and unmixed out +of pre-existent things, and it were more correct to call the one +process composition and the other process decomposition." +</p> +<p> +The Atomists had assumed the ultimate constituents of things to be +atoms composed of the same kind of matter. Empedocles had believed in +four ultimate and underived kinds of matter. With neither of these +does Anaxagoras agree. For him, all the different kinds of <a name="96">{96}</a> matter +are equally ultimate and underived, that is to say, such things as +gold, bone, hair, earth, water, wood, etc., are ultimate kinds of +matter, which do not arise from anything else, and do not pass over +into one another. He also disagrees with the conception of the +Atomists that if matter is divided far enough, ultimate and +indivisible particles will be reached. According to Anaxagoras matter +is infinitely divisible. In the beginning all these kinds of matter +were mixed together in a chaotic mass. The mass stretches infinitely +throughout space. The different kinds of matter wholly intermingle and +interpenetrate each other. The process of world-formation is brought +about by the unmixing of the conglomeration of all kinds of matter, +and the bringing together of like matter with like. Thus the gold +particles separating out of the mass come together, and form gold; the +wood particles come together and form wood, and so on. But as matter +is infinitely divisible and the original mixing of the elements was +complete, they were, so to speak, mixed to an infinite extent. +Therefore the process of unmixing would take infinite time, is now +going on, and will always go on. Even in the purest element there is +still a certain admixture of particles of other kinds of matter. There +is no such thing as pure gold. Gold is merely matter in which the gold +particles predominate. +</p> +<p> +As with Empedocles and the Atomists, a moving force is required to +explain the world-process of unmixing. What, in the philosophy of +Anaxagoras, is this force? Now up to the present point the philosophy +of Anaxagoras does not rise above the previous philosophies of +Empedocles and the Atomists. On the contrary, in clearness <a name="97">{97}</a> and +logical consistency, it falls considerably below the teaching of the +latter. But it is just here, on the question of the moving force, that +Anaxagoras becomes for the first time wholly original, and introduces +a principle peculiar to himself, a principle, moreover, which is +entirely new in philosophy. Empedocles had taken as his moving forces, +Love and Hate, mythical and fanciful on the one hand, and yet purely +physical on the other. The forces of the Atomists were also completely +material. But Anaxagoras conceives the moving force as wholly +non-physical and incorporeal. It is called Nous, that is, mind or +intelligence. It is intelligence which produces the movement in things +which brings about the formation of the world. What was it, now, which +led Anaxagoras to the doctrine of a world-governing intelligence? It +seems that he was struck with the apparent design, order, beauty and +harmony of the universe. These things, he thought, could not be +accounted for by blind forces. The world is apparently a rationally +governed world. It moves towards definite ends. Nature shows plentiful +examples of the adaptation of means to ends. There appears to be plan +and purpose in the world. The Atomists had assumed nothing but matter +and physical force. How can design, order, harmony and beauty be +brought about by blind forces acting upon chaotic matter? Blind forces +acting upon a chaos would produce motion and change. But the change +would be meaningless and purposeless. They could not produce a +rationally ordered cosmos. One chaos would succeed another chaos ad +infinitum. That alone which can produce law and order is intelligence. +There must therefore be a world-controlling Nous. +</p> +<p> +<a name="98">{98}</a> +</p> +<p> +What is the character of the Nous, according to Anaxagoras? Is it, in +the first place, really conceived as purely non-material and +incorporeal? Aristotle, who was in a position to know more of the +matter than any modern scholar, clearly implies in his criticism that +the Nous of Anaxagoras is an incorporeal principle, and he has been +followed in this by the majority of the best modern writers, such as +Zeller and Erdmann. But the opposite view has been maintained, by +Grote, for example, and more recently by Professor Burnet, who thinks +that Anaxagoras conceived the Nous as a material and physical force. +[Footnote 8] As the matter is of fundamental importance, I will +mention the chief arguments upon which Professor Burnet rests his +case. In the first place Anaxagoras described the Nous as the +"thinnest and purest of all things." He also said that it was +"unmixed," that it had in it no mixture of anything besides itself. +Professor Burnet argues that such words as "thin" and "unmixed" would +be meaningless in connection with an incorporeal principle. Only +material things can properly be described as thin, pure, and unmixed. +Secondly, Professor Burnet thinks that it is quite certain that the +Nous occupies space, for Anaxagoras speaks of greater and smaller +portions of it. Greater and smaller are spatial relations. Hence the +Nous occupies space, and that which occupies space is material. But +surely these are very inconclusive arguments. In the first place as +regards the use of the words "thin" and "unmixed." It is true that +these terms express primarily physical qualities. But, as I pointed +out in <a name="99">{99}</a> the first chapter, almost all words by which we seek to +express incorporeal ideas have originally a physical signification. +And if Anaxagoras is to be called a materialist because he described +the Nous as thin, then we must also plead guilty to materialism if we +say that the thought of Plato is "luminous," or that the mind of +Aristotle is "clear." The fact is that all philosophy labours under +the difficulty of having to express non-sensuous thought in language +which has been evolved for the purpose of expressing sensuous ideas. +There is no philosophy in the world, even up to the present day, in +which expressions could not be found in plenty which are based upon +the use of physical analogies to express entirely non-physical ideas. +Then as regards the Nous occupying space, it is not true that greater +and smaller are necessarily spatial relations. They are also +qualitative relations of degree. I say that the mind of Plato is +greater than the mind of Callias. Am I to be called a materialist? Am +I to be supposed to mean that Plato's mind occupies more space than +that of Callias? And it is certainly in this way that Anaxagoras uses +the terms. "All Nous," he says, "is alike, both the greater and the +smaller." He means thereby that the world-forming mind (the greater) +is identical in character with the mind of man (the smaller). For +Anaxagoras it is the one Nous which animates all living beings, men, +animals, and even plants. These different orders of beings are +animated by the same Nous but in different degrees, that of man being +the greatest. But this does not mean that the Nous in man occupies +more space than the Nous in a plant. But even if Anaxagoras did +conceive the Nous as spatial, it does not follow that he <a name="100">{100}</a> +regarded it as material. The doctrine of the non-spatiality of mind is +a modern doctrine, never fully developed till the time of Descartes. +And to say that Anaxagoras did not realize that mind is non-spatial is +merely to say that he lived before the time of Descartes. No doubt it +would follow from this that the incorporeality of mind is vaguely and +indistinctly conceived by Anaxagoras, that the antithesis between +matter and mind is not so sharply drawn by him as it is by us. But +still the antithesis is conceived, and therefore it is correct to say +that the Nous of Anaxagoras is an incorporeal principle. The whole +point of this introduction of the Nous into the philosophy of +Anaxagoras is because he could not explain the design and order of the +universe on a purely physical basis. +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 8: <i>Early Greek Philosophy</i>, chap. vi. § 132.] +</p> +<p> +The next characteristic of Nous is that it is to be thought of as +essentially the ground of motion. It is because he cannot in any other +way explain purposive motion that Anaxagoras introduces mind into his +otherwise materialistic system. Mind plays the part of the moving +force which explains the world-process of unmixing. As the ground of +motion, the Nous is itself unmoved; for if there were any motion in it +we should have to seek for the ground of this motion in something else +outside it. That which is the cause of all motion, cannot itself be +moved. Next, the Nous is absolutely pure and unmixed with anything +else. It exists apart, by itself, wholly in itself, and for itself. In +contrast to matter, it is uncompounded and simple. It is this which +gives it omnipotence, complete power over everything, because there is +no mixture of matter in it to limit it, to clog and hinder its +activities. We moderns are <a name="101">{101}</a> inclined to ask the question whether +the Nous is personal. Is it, for example, a personal being like the +God of the Christians? This is a question which it is almost +impossible to answer. Anaxagoras certainly never considered it. +According to Zeller, the Greeks had an imperfect and undeveloped +conception of personality. Even in Plato we find the same difficulty. +The antithesis between God as a personal and as an impersonal being, +is a wholly modern idea. No Greek ever discussed it. +</p> +<p> +To come now to the question of the activity of the Nous and its +function in the philosophy of Anaxagoras, we must note that it is +essentially a world-forming, and not a world-creating, intelligence. +The Nous and matter exist side by side from eternity. It does not +create matter, but only arranges it. "All things were together," says +Anaxagoras, "infinitely numerous, infinitely little; then came the +Nous and set them in order." In this Anaxagoras showed a sound logical +sense. He based his idea of the existence of Nous upon the design +which exhibits itself in the world. In modern times the existence of +design in the world has been made the foundation of an argument for +the existence of God, which is known as the teleological argument. The +word teleology means the view of things as adapting means towards +purposive ends. To see intelligent design in the universe is to view +the universe teleologically. And the teleological argument for the +existence of God asserts that, as there is evidence of purpose in +nature, this must be due to an intelligent cause. But, as a matter of +fact, taken by itself, teleology cannot possibly be made the basis of +an argument for the existence of a world-creating intelligence, but +only for the existence of a world-designing <a name="102">{102}</a> intelligence. If you +find in the desert the ruins of ancient cities and temples, you are +entitled to conclude therefrom, that there existed a mind which +designed these cities and buildings, and which arranged matter in that +purposive way, but you are not entitled to conclude that the mind +which designed the cities also created the matter out of which they +were made. Anaxagoras was, therefore, in that sense quite right. +Teleology is not evidence of a world-creating mind, and if we are to +prove that, we must have recourse to other lines of reasoning. +</p> +<p> +In the beginning, then, there was a chaotic mixture of different kinds +of matter. The Nous produced a vortex at one point in the middle of +this mass. This vortex spread itself outwards in the mass of matter, +like rings caused by the fall of a stone in water. It goes on for ever +and continually draws more and more matter out of the infinite mass +into itself. The movement, therefore, is never-ending. It causes like +kinds of matter to come together with like, gold to gold, wood to +wood, water to water, and so on. It is to be noted, therefore, that +the action of the Nous is apparently confined to the first movement. +It acts only at the one central point, and every subsequent movement +is caused by the vortex itself, which draws in more and more of the +surrounding matter into itself. First are separated out the warm, dry, +and light particles, and these form the aether or upper air. Next come +the cold, moist, dark, and dense particles which form the lower air. +Rotation takes the latter towards the centre, and out of this the +earth is formed. The earth, as with Anaximenes, is a flat disc, borne +upon the air. The heavenly bodies consist of <a name="103">{103}</a> masses of stone +which have been torn from the earth by the force of its rotation, and +being projected outwards become incandescent through the rapidity of +their movement. The moon is made of earth and reflects the light of +the sun. Anaxagoras was thus the first to give the true cause of the +moon's light. He was also the first to discover the true theory of +eclipses, since he taught that the solar eclipse is due to the +intervention of the moon between the sun and the earth, and that lunar +eclipses arise from the shadow of the earth falling upon the moon. He +believed that there are other worlds besides our own with their own +suns and moons. These worlds are inhabited. The sun, according to +Anaxagoras, is many times as large as the Peloponnese. The origin of +life upon the earth is accounted for by germs which existed in the +atmosphere, and which were brought down into the terrestrial slime by +rain water, and there fructified. Anaxagoras's theory of perception is +the opposite of the theories of Empedocles and the Atomists. +Perception takes place by unlike matter meeting unlike. +</p> +<p> +Anaxagoras owes his importance in the history of philosophy to the +theory of the Nous. This was the first time that a definite +distinction had been made between the corporeal and incorporeal. +Anaxagoras is the last philosopher of the first period of Greek +philosophy. In the second chapter, [Footnote 9] I observed that this +first period is characterized by the fact that in it the Greek mind +looks only outward upon the external world. It attempts to explain the +operations of nature. It had not yet learned to look inward upon +itself. But the transition to the introspective study of mind is found +in the Nous of <a name="104">{104}</a> Anaxagoras. Mind is now brought to the fore as a +problem for philosophy. To find reason, intelligence, mind, in all +things, in the State, in the individual, in external nature, this is +the characteristic of the second period of Greek philosophy. To have +formulated the antithesis between mind and matter is the most +important work of Anaxagoras. +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 9: <a href="#23">Pages 23-4</a>.] +</p> +<p> +Secondly, it is to the credit of Anaxagoras that he was the first to +introduce the idea of teleology into philosophy. The system of the +Atomists formed the logical completion of the mechanical theory of the +world. The theory of mechanism seeks to explain all things by causes. +But, as we saw, causation can explain nothing. The mechanism of the +world shows us by what means events are brought about, but it does not +explain why they are brought about at all. That can only be explained +by showing the reason for things, by exhibiting all process as a means +towards rational ends. To look to the beginning (cause) of things for +their explanation is the theory of mechanism. To look to their ends +for explanation of them is teleology. Anaxagoras was the first to have +dimly seen this. And for this reason Aristotle praises him, and, +contrasting him with the mechanists, Leucippus and Democritus, says +that he appears like "a sober man among vain babblers." The new +principle which he thus introduced into philosophy was developed, and +formed the central idea of Plato and Aristotle. To have realized the +twin antitheses of matter and mind, of mechanism and teleology, is the +glory of Anaxagoras. +</p> +<p> +But it is just here, in the development of these two ideas, that the +defects of his system make their appearance. Firstly, he so separated +matter and mind that <a name="105">{105}</a> his philosophy ends in sheer dualism. He +assumes the Nous and matter as existing from the beginning, side by +side, as equally ultimate and underived principles. A monistic +materialism would have derived the Nous from matter, and a monistic +idealism would have derived matter from the Nous. But Anaxagoras does +neither. Each is left, in his theory, an inexplicable ultimate +mystery. His philosophy is, therefore, an irreconcilable dualism. +</p> +<p> +Secondly, his teleology turns out in the end to be only a new theory +of mechanism. The only reason which induces him to introduce the Nous +into the world, is because he cannot otherwise explain the origin of +movement. It is only the first movement of things, the formation of +the vortex, which he explains by mind. All subsequent process is +explained by the action of the vortex itself, which draws the +surrounding matter into itself. The Nous is thus nothing but another +piece of mechanism to account for the first impulse to motion. He +regards the Nous simply as a first cause, and thus the characteristic +of all mechanism, to look back to first causes, to the beginning, +rather than to the end of things for their explanation, appears here. +Aristotle, as usual, puts the matter in a nutshell. "Anaxagoras," he +says, "uses mind as a <i>deus ex machina</i> to account for the formation +of the world, and whenever he is at a loss to explain why anything +necessarily is, he drags it in by force. But in other cases he assigns +as a cause for things anything else in preference to mind." [Footnote +10] +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 10; Aristotle, <i>Metaphysics</i>, book i, chap. iv.] +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="106">{106}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERIX">CHAPTER IX</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +THE SOPHISTS +</p> +<p> +The first period of Greek philosophy closes with Anaxagoras. His +doctrine of the world-forming intelligence introduced a new principle +into philosophy, the principle of the antithesis between corporeal +matter and incorporeal mind, and therefore, by implication, the +antithesis between nature and man. And if the first period of +philosophy has for its problem the origin of the world, and the +explanation of the being and becoming of nature, the second period of +philosophy opens, in the Sophists, with the problem of the position of +man in the universe. The teaching of the earlier philosophers was +exclusively cosmological, that of the Sophists exclusively humanistic. +Later in this second period, these two modes of thought come together +and fructify one another. The problem of the mind and the problem of +nature are subordinated as factors of the great, universal, +all-embracing, world-systems of Plato and Aristotle. +</p> +<p> +It is not possible to understand the activities and teaching of the +Sophists without some knowledge of the religious, political, and +social conditions of the time. After long struggles between the people +and the nobles, democracy had almost everywhere triumphed. But in +Greece democracy did not mean what we now mean by <a name="107">{107}</a> that word. It +did not mean representative institutions, government by the people +through their elected deputies. Ancient Greece was never a single +nation under a single government. Every city, almost every hamlet, was +an independent State, governed only by its own laws. Some of these +States were so small that they comprised merely a handful of citizens. +All were so small that all the citizens could meet together in one +place, and themselves in person enact the laws and transact public +business. There was no necessity for representation. Consequently in +Greece every citizen was himself a politician and a legislator. In +these circumstances, partisan feeling ran to extravagant lengths. Men +forgot the interests of the State in the interests of party, and this +ended in men forgetting the interests of their party in their own +interests. Greed, ambition, grabbing, selfishness, unrestricted +egotism, unbridled avarice, became the dominant notes of the political +life of the time. +</p> +<p> +Hand in hand with the rise of democracy went the decay of religion. +Belief in the gods was almost everywhere discredited. This was partly +due to the moral worthlessness of the Greek religion itself. Any +action, however scandalous or disgraceful, could be justified by the +examples of the gods themselves as related by the poets and +mythologers of Greece. But, in greater measure, the collapse of +religion was due to that advance of science and philosophy which we +have been considering in these lectures. The universal tendency of +that philosophy was to find natural causes for what had hitherto been +ascribed to the action of the divine powers, and this could not but +have an undermining effect upon popular <a name="108">{108}</a> belief. Nearly all the +philosophers had been secretly, and many of them openly, antagonistic +to the people's religion. The attack was begun by Xenophanes; +Heracleitus carried it on; and lastly Democritus had attempted to +explain belief in the gods as being caused by fear of gigantic +terrestrial and astronomical phenomena. No educated man any longer +believed in divination, auguries, and miracles. A wave of rationalism +and scepticism passed over the Greek people. The age became one of +negative, critical, and destructive thought. Democracy had undermined +the old aristocratic institutions of the State, and science had +undermined religious orthodoxy. With the downfall of these two pillars +of things established, all else went too. All morality, all custom, +all authority, all tradition, were criticised and rejected. What was +regarded with awe and pious veneration by their fore-fathers the +modern Greeks now looked upon as fit subjects for jest and mockery. +Every restraint of custom, law, or morality, was resented as an +unwarrantable restriction upon the natural impulses of man. What alone +remained when these were thrust aside were the lust, avarice, and +self-will of the individual. +</p> +<p> +The teaching of the Sophists was merely a translation into theoretical +propositions of these practical tendencies of the period. The Sophists +were the children of their time, and the interpreters of their age. +Their philosophical teachings were simply the crystallization of the +impulses which governed the life of the people into abstract +principles and maxims. +</p> +<p> +Who and what were the Sophists? In the first place, they were not a +school of philosophers. They are not to be compared, for example, with +the Pythagoreans or <a name="109">{109}</a> Eleatics. They had not, as a school has, any +system of philosophy held in common by them all. None of them +constructed systems of thought. They had in common only certain loose +tendencies of thought. Nor were they, as we understand the members of +a school to be, in any close personal association with one another. +They were a professional class rather than a school, and as such they +were scattered over Greece, and nourished among themselves the usual +professional rivalries. They were professional teachers and educators. +The rise of the Sophists was due to the growing demand for popular +education, which was partly a genuine demand for light and knowledge, +but was mostly a desire for such spurious learning as would lead to +worldly, and especially political, success. The triumph of democracy +had brought it about that political careers were now open to the +masses who had hitherto been wholly shut out from them. Any man could +rise to the highest positions in the State, if he were endowed with +cleverness, ready speech, whereby to sway the passions of the mob, and +a sufficient equipment in the way of education. Hence the demand arose +for such an education as would enable the ordinary man to carve out a +political career for himself. It was this demand which the Sophists +undertook to satisfy. They wandered about Greece from place to place, +they gave lectures, they took pupils, they entered into disputations. +For these services they exacted large fees. They were the first in +Greece to take fees for the teaching of wisdom. There was nothing +disgraceful in this in itself, but it had never been customary. The +wise men of Greece had never accepted any payment for their wisdom. +Socrates, who never accepted any payment, <a name="110">{110}</a> but gave his wisdom +freely to all who sought it, somewhat proudly contrasted himself with +the Sophists in this respect. +</p> +<p> +The Sophists were not, technically speaking, philosophers. They did +not specialise in the problems of philosophy. Their tendencies were +purely practical. They taught any subject whatever for the teaching of +which there was a popular demand. For example, Protagoras undertook to +impart to his pupils the principles of success as a politician or as a +private citizen. Gorgias taught rhetoric and politics, Prodicus +grammar and etymology, Hippias history, mathematics and physics. In +consequence of this practical tendency of the Sophists we hear of no +attempts among them to solve the problem of the origin of nature, or +the character of the ultimate reality. The Sophists have been +described as teachers of virtue, and the description is correct, +provided that the word virtue is understood in its Greek sense, which +did not restrict it to morality alone. For the Greeks, it meant the +capacity of a person successfully to perform his functions in the +State. Thus the virtue of a mechanic is to understand machinery, the +virtue of a physician to cure the sick, the virtue of a horse trainer +the ability to train horses. The Sophists undertook to train men to +virtue in this sense, to make them successful citizens and members of +the State. +</p> +<p> +But the most popular career for a Greek of ability at the time was the +political, which offered the attraction of high positions in the +State. And for this career what was above all necessary was eloquence, +or if that were unattainable, at least ready speech, the ability to +argue, to meet every point as it arose, if not with sound <a name="111">{111}</a> +reasoning, then with quick repartee. Hence the Sophists very largely +concentrated their energies upon the teaching of rhetoric. In itself +this was good. They were the first to direct attention to the science +of rhetoric, of which they may be considered the founders. But their +rhetoric also had its bad side, which indeed, soon became its only +side. The aims of the young politicians whom they trained were, not to +seek out the truth for its own sake, but merely to persuade the +multitude of whatever they wished them to believe. Consequently the +Sophists, like lawyers, not caring for the truth of the matter, +undertook to provide a stock of arguments on any subject, or to prove +any proposition. They boasted of their ability to make the worse +appear the better reason, to prove that black is white. Some of them, +like Gorgias, asserted that it was not necessary to have any knowledge +of a subject to give satisfactory replies as regards it. And Gorgias +ostentatiously undertook to answer any question on any subject +instantly and without consideration. To attain these ends mere +quibbling, and the scoring of verbal points, were employed. Hence our +word "sophistry." The Sophists, in this way, endeavoured to entangle, +entrap, and confuse their opponents, and even, if this were not +possible, to beat them down by mere violence and noise. They sought +also to dazzle by means of strange or flowery metaphors, by unusual +figures of speech, by epigrams and paradoxes, and in general by being +clever and smart, rather than earnest and truthful. When a man is +young he is often dazzled by brilliance and cleverness, by paradox and +epigram, but as he grows older he learns to discount these things and +to care chiefly for the substance and <a name="112">{112}</a> truth of what is said. And +the Greeks were a young people. They loved clever sayings. And this it +is which accounts for the toleration which they extended even to the +most patent absurdities of the Sophists. The modern question whether a +man has ceased beating his wife is not more childish than many of the +rhetorical devices of the Sophists, and is indeed characteristic of +the methods of the more extravagant among them. +</p> +<p> +The earliest known Sophist is Protagoras. He was born at Abdera, about +480 B.C. He wandered up and down Greece, and settled for some time at +Athens. At Athens, however, he was charged with impiety and atheism. +This was on account of a book written by him on the subject of the +gods, which began with the words, "As for the gods, I am unable to say +whether they exist or whether they do not exist." The book was +publicly burnt, and Protagoras had to fly from Athens. He fled to +Sicily, but was drowned on the way about the year 410 B.C. +</p> +<p> +Protagoras was the author of the famous saying, "Man is the measure of +all things; of what is, that it is; of what is not, that it is not." +Now this saying puts in a nutshell, so to speak, the whole teaching of +Protagoras. And, indeed, it contains in germ the entire thought of the +Sophists. It is well, therefore, that we should fully understand +exactly what it means. The earlier Greek philosophers had made a clear +distinction between sense and thought, between perception and reason, +and had believed that the truth is to be found, not by the senses, but +by reason. The Eleatics had been the first to emphasize this +distinction. The ultimate reality of <a name="113">{113}</a> things, they said, is pure +Being, which is known only through reason; it is the senses which +delude us with a show of becoming. Heracleitus had likewise affirmed +that the truth, which was, for him, the law of becoming, is known by +thought, and that it is the senses which delude us with a show of +permanence. Even Democritus believed that true being, that is, +material atoms, are so small that the senses cannot perceive them, and +only reason is aware of their existence. Now the teaching of +Protagoras really rests fundamentally upon the denying and confusing +of this distinction. If we are to see this, we must first of all +understand that reason is the universal, sensation the particular, +element in man. In the first place, reason is communicable, sensation +incommunicable. My sensations and feelings are personal to myself, and +cannot be imparted to other people. For example, no one can +communicate the sensation of redness to a colour-blind man, who has +not already experienced it. But a thought, or rational idea, can be +communicated to any rational being. Now suppose the question is +whether the angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal. We +may approach the problem in two ways. We may appeal either to the +senses or to reason. If we appeal to the senses, one man will come +forward and say that to him the angles look equal. Another man will +say that one angle looks bigger than the other, and so on. But if, +like Euclid, we appeal to reason, then it can be proved that the two +angles are equal, and there is no room left for mere personal +impressions, because reason is a law universally valid and binding +upon all men. My sensations are private and peculiar to myself. They +bind no one but myself. My <a name="114">{114}</a> impressions about the triangle are +not a law to anyone except myself. But my reason I share with all +other rational beings. It is not a law for me merely, but for all. It +is one and the same reason in me and in other men. Reason, therefore, +is the universal, sensation the particular, element in man. Now it is +practically this distinction that Protagoras denied. Man, he said, is +the measure of all things. By man he did not mean mankind at large. He +meant the individual man. And by measure of all things he meant the +standard of the truth of all things. Each individual man is the +standard of what is true to himself. There is no truth except the +sensations and impressions of each man. What seems true to me is true +for me. What seems true to you is true for you. +</p> +<p> +We commonly distinguish between subjective impressions and objective +truth. The words subjective and objective are constantly recurring +throughout the history of philosophy, and as this is the first time I +use them, I will explain them here. In every act of thought there must +necessarily be two terms. I am now looking at this desk and thinking +of this desk. There is the "I" which thinks, and there is the desk +which is thought. "I" am the subject of the thought, the desk is the +object of the thought. In general, the subject is that which thinks, +and the object is that which is thought. Subjective is that which +appertains to the subject, and objective is that which appertains to +the object. So the meaning of the distinction between subjective +impressions and the objective truth is clear. My personal impression +may be that the earth is flat, but the objective truth is that the +<a name="115">{115}</a> earth is round. Travelling through a desert, I may be subject to +a mirage, and think that there is water in front of me. That is my +subjective impression. The objective truth is that there is nothing +but sand. The objective truth is something which has an existence of +its own, independent of me. It does not matter what I think, or what +you think, what I want, or what you want; the truth is what it is. We +must conform ourselves to the truth. Truth will not conform itself to +our personal inclinations, wishes, or impressions. The teaching of +Protagoras practically amounted to a denial of this. What it meant was +that there is no objective truth, no truth independent of the +individual subject. Whatever seems to the individual true is true for +that individual. Thus truth is identified with subjective sensations +and impressions. +</p> +<p> +To deny the distinction between objective truth and subjective +impression is the same as to deny the distinction between reason and +sense. To my senses the earth seems flat. It looks flat to the eye. It +is only through reason that I know the objective truth that the world +is round. Reason, therefore, is the only possible standard of +objective truth. If you deny the rational element its proper part, it +follows that you will be left a helpless prey to diverse personal +impressions. The impressions yielded by the senses differ in different +people. One man sees a thing in one way, another sees it in another. +If, therefore, what seems to me true is true for me, and what seems to +you true is true for you, and if our impressions differ, it will +follow that two contradictory propositions must both be true. +Protagoras clearly understood this, <a name="116">{116}</a> and did not flinch from the +conclusion. He taught that all opinions are true, that error is +impossible, and that, whatever proposition is put forward, it is +always possible to oppose to it a contradictory proposition with +equally good arguments and with equal truth. In reality, the result of +this procedure is to rob the distinction between truth and falsehood +of all meaning. It makes no difference whether we say that all +opinions are true, or whether we say that all are false. The words +truth and falsehood, in such context, have no meaning. To say that +whatever I feel is the truth for me means only that what I feel I +feel. To call this "truth for me," adds nothing to the meaning. +</p> +<p> +Protagoras seems to have been led to these doctrines partly by +observing the different accounts of the same object which the +sense-organs yield to different people, and even to the same person at +different times. If knowledge depends upon these impressions, the +truth about the object cannot be ascertained. He was also influenced +by the teaching of Heracleitus. Heracleitus had taught that all +permanence is illusion. Everything is a perpetual becoming; all things +flow. What is at this moment, at the next moment is not. Even at one +and the same moment, Heracleitus believed, a thing is and is not. If +it is true to say that it is, it is equally true that it is not. And +this is, in effect, the teaching of Protagoras. +</p> +<p> +The Protagorean philosophy thus amounts to a declaration that +knowledge is impossible. If there is no objective truth, there cannot +be any knowledge of it. The impossibility of knowledge is also the +standpoint of Gorgias. The title of his book is characteristic of +<a name="117">{117}</a> the Sophistical love of paradox. It was called "On Nature, or +the non-existent." In this book he attempted to prove three +propositions, (1) that nothing exists: (2) that if anything exists, it +cannot be known: (3) that if it can be known, the knowledge of it +cannot be communicated. +</p> +<p> +For proof of the first proposition, "nothing exists," Gorgias attached +himself to the school of the Eleatics, especially to Zeno. Zeno had +taught that in all multiplicity and motion, that is to say, in all +existence, there are irreconcilable contradictions. Zeno was in no +sense a sceptic. He did not seek for contradictions in things for the +sake of the contradictions, but in order to support the positive +thesis of Parmenides, that only being is, and that becoming is not at +all. Zeno, therefore, is to be regarded as a constructive, and not +merely as a destructive, thinker. But it is obvious that by +emphasizing only the negative element in his philosophy, it is +possible to use his antinomies as powerful weapons in the cause of +scepticism and nihilism. And it was in this way that Gorgias made use +of the dialectic of Zeno. Since all existence is self-contradictory, +it follows that nothing exists. He also made use of the famous +argument of Parmenides regarding the origin of being. If anything is, +said Gorgias, it must have had a beginning. Its being must have arisen +either from being, or from not-being. If it arose from being, there is +no beginning. If it arose from not-being, this is impossible, since +something cannot arise out of nothing. Therefore nothing exists. +</p> +<p> +The second proposition of Gorgias, that if anything exists it cannot +be known, is part and parcel of the whole Sophistic tendency of +thought, which identifies knowledge <a name="118">{118}</a> with sense-perception, and +ignores the rational element. Since sense-impressions differ in +different people, and even in the same person, the object as it is in +itself cannot be known. The third proposition follows from the same +identification of knowledge with sensation, since sensation is what +cannot be communicated. +</p> +<p> +The later Sophists went much further than Protagoras and Gorgias. It +was their work to apply the teaching of Protagoras to the spheres of +politics and morals. If there is no objective truth, and if what seems +true to each individual is for him the truth, so also, there can be no +objective moral code, and what seems right to each man is right for +him. If we are to have anything worth calling morality, it is clear +that it must be a law for all, and not merely a law for some. It must +be valid for, and binding upon, all men. It must, therefore, be +founded upon that which is universal in man, that is to say, his +reason. To found it upon sense-impressions and feelings is to found it +upon shifting quicksands. My feelings and sensations are binding upon +no man but myself, and therefore a universally valid law cannot be +founded upon them. Yet the Sophists identified morality with the +feelings of the individual. Whatever I think right is right for me. +Whatever you think right is right for you. Whatever each man, in his +irrational self-will, chooses to do, that is, for him, legitimate. +These conclusions were drawn by Polus, Thrasymachus, and Critias. +</p> +<p> +Now if there is, in this way, no such thing as objective right, it +follows that the laws of the State can be founded upon nothing except +force, custom, and convention. We often speak of just laws, and good +laws. But to speak in that way involves the existence of an objective +<a name="119">{119}</a> standard of goodness and justice, with which we can compare the +law, and see whether it agrees with that standard or not. To the +Sophists, who denied any such standard, it was mere nonsense to speak +of just and good laws. No law is in itself good or just, because there +is no such thing as goodness or justice. Or if they used such a word +as justice, they defined it as meaning the right of the stronger; or +the right of the majority. Polus and Thrasymachus, consequently, drew +the conclusion that the laws of the State were inventions of the weak, +who were cunning enough, by means of this stratagem, to control the +strong, and rob them of the natural fruits of their strength. The law +of force is the only law which nature recognizes. If a man, therefore, +is powerful enough to defy the law with impunity, he has a perfect +right to do so. The Sophists were thus the first, but not the last, to +preach the doctrine that might is right. And, in similar vein, Critias +explained popular belief in the gods as the invention of some crafty +statesman for controlling the mob through fear. +</p> +<p> +Now it is obvious that the whole tendency of this sophistical teaching +is destructive and anti-social. It is destructive of religion, of +morality, of the foundations of the State, and of all established +institutions. And we can now see that the doctrines of the Sophists +were, in fact, simply the crystallization into abstract thought of the +practical tendencies of the age. The people in practice, the Sophists +in theory, decried and trod under foot the restrictions of law, +authority, and custom, leaving nothing but the deification of the +individual in his crude self-will and egotism. It was in fact an age +of "aufklärung," which means enlightenment or <a name="120">{120}</a> illumination. Such +periods of illumination, it seems, recur periodically in the history +of thought, and in the history of civilization. This is the first, but +not the last, such period with which the history of philosophy deals. +This is the Greek illumination. Such periods present certain +characteristic features. They follow, as a rule, upon an era of +constructive thought. In the present instance the Greek illumination +followed closely upon the heels of the great development of science +and philosophy from Thales to Anaxagoras. In such a constructive +period the great thinkers bring to birth new principles, which, in the +course of time, filter down to the masses of the people and cause +popular, if shallow, science, and a wide-spread culture. Popular +education becomes a feature of the time. The new ideas, fermenting +among the people, break up old prejudices and established ideas, and +thus thought, at first constructive, becomes, among the masses, +destructive in character. Hence the popular thought, in a period of +enlightenment, issues in denial, scepticism, and disbelief. It is +merely negative in its activities and results. Authority, tradition, +and custom are wholly or partially destroyed. And since authority, +tradition, and custom are the cement of the social structure, there +results a general dissolution of that structure into its component +individuals. All emphasis is now laid on the individual. Thought +becomes egocentric. Individualism is the dominant note. Extreme +subjectivity is the principle of the age. All these features make +their appearance in the Greek aufklärung. The Sophistical doctrine +that the truth is what I think, the good what I choose to do, is the +extreme application of the subjective and egocentric principles. +</p> +<p> +<a name="121">{121}</a> +</p> +<p> +The early eighteenth century in England and France was likewise a +period of enlightenment, and the era from which we are now, perhaps, +just emerging, bears many of the characteristics of aufklärung. It is +sceptical and destructive. All established institutions, marriage, the +family, the state, the law, come in for much destructive criticism. It +followed immediately upon the close of a great period of constructive +thought, the scientific development of the nineteenth century. And +lastly, the age has produced its own Protagorean philosophy, which it +calls pragmatism. If pragmatism is not egocentric, it is at least +anthropocentric. Truth is no longer thought of as an objective +reality, to which mankind must conform. On the contrary, the truth +must conform itself to mankind. Whatever it is useful to believe, +whatever belief "works" in practice, is declared to be true. But since +what "works" in one age and country does not "work" in another, since +what it is useful to believe to-day will be useless to-morrow, it +follows that there is no objective truth independent of mankind at +all. Truth is not now defined as dependent on the sensations of man, +as it was with Protagoras, but as dependent on the volition of man. In +either case it is not the universal in man, his reason, which is made +the basis of truth and morals, but the subjective, individual, +particular element in him. +</p> +<p> +We must not forget the many merits of the Sophists. Individually, they +were often estimable men. Nothing is known against the character of +Protagoras, and Prodicus was proverbial for his wisdom and the genuine +probity and uprightness of his principles. Moreover the Sophists +contributed much to the advance of learning. <a name="122">{122}</a> They were the first +to direct attention to the study of words, sentences, style, prosody, +and rhythm. They were the founders of the science of rhetoric. They +spread education and culture far and wide in Greece, they gave a great +impulse to the study of ethical ideas, which made possible the +teaching of Socrates, and they stirred up a ferment of ideas without +which the great period of Plato and Aristotle could never have seen +the light. But, from the philosophical point of view, their merit is +for the first time to have brought into general recognition <i>the right +of the subject</i>. For there is, after all, much reason in these attacks +made by the Sophists upon authority, upon established things, upon +tradition, custom and dogma. Man, as a rational being, ought not to be +tyrannized over by authority, dogma, and tradition. He cannot be +subjected, thus violently, to the imposition of beliefs from an +external source. No man has the right to say to me, "you <i>shall</i> think +this," or "you <i>shall</i> think that." I, as a rational being, have the +right to use my reason, and judge for myself. If a man would convince +me, he must not appeal to force, but to reason. In doing so, he is not +imposing his opinions externally upon me; he is educing his opinions +from the internal sources of my own thought; he is showing me that his +opinions are in reality my own opinions, if I only knew it. But the +mistake of the Sophists was that, in thus recognizing the right of the +subject, they wholly ignored and forgot <i>the right of the object</i>. For +the truth has objective existence, and is what it is, whether I think +it or not. Their mistake was that though they rightly saw that for +truth and morality to be valid for me, they must be assented to by, +and developed out of, <a name="123">{123}</a> me myself, not imposed from the outside, +yet they laid the emphasis on my merely accidental and particular +characteristics, my impulses, feelings, and sensations, and made these +the source of truth and morality, instead of emphasizing as the source +of truth and right the universal part of me, my reason. "Man is the +measure of all things"; certainly, but man as a rational being, not +man as a bundle of particular sensations, subjective impressions, +impulses, irrational prejudices, self-will, mere eccentricities, +oddities, foibles, and fancies. +</p> +<p> +Good examples of the right and wrong principles of the Sophists are to +be found in modern Protestantism and modern democracy. Protestantism, +it is often said, is founded upon the right of private judgment, and +this is simply the right of the subject, the right of the individual +to exercise his own reason. But if this is interpreted to mean that +each individual is entitled to set up his mere whims and fancies as +the law in religious matters, then we have the bad sort of +Protestantism. Again, democracy is simply political protestantism, and +democratic ideas are the direct offspring of the protestant +Reformation. The democratic principle is that no rational being can be +asked to obey a law to which his own reason has not assented. But the +law must be founded upon reason, upon the universal in man. I, as an +individual, as a mere ego, have no rights whatever. It is only as a +rational being, as a potentially universal being, as a member of the +commonwealth of reason, that I have any rights, that I can claim to +legislate for myself and others. But if each individual's capricious +self-will, his mere whims and fancies, are erected into a law, then +democracy turns into anarchism and bolshevism. +</p> +<p> +<a name="124">{124}</a> +</p> +<p> +It is a great mistake to suppose that the doctrines of the Sophists +are merely antiquated ideas, dead and fossilized thoughts, of interest +only to historians, but of no importance to us. On the contrary, +modern popular thought positively reeks with the ideas and tendencies +of the Sophists. It is often said that a man ought to have strong +convictions, and some people even go so far as to say that it does not +much matter what a man believes, so long as what he believes he +believes strongly and firmly. Now certainly it is quite true that a +man with strong convictions is more interesting than a man without any +opinions. The former is at least a force in the world, while the +latter is colourless and ineffectual. But to put exclusive emphasis on +the mere fact of having convictions is wrong. After all, the final +test of worth must be whether the man's convictions are true or false. +There must be an objective standard of truth, and to forget this, to +talk of the mere fact of having strong opinions as in itself a merit, +is to fall into the error of the Sophists. +</p> +<p> +Another common saying is that everyone has a right to his own +opinions. This is quite true, and it merely expresses the right of the +subject to use his own reason. But it is sometimes interpreted in a +different way. If a man holds a totally irrational opinion, and if +every weapon is beaten out of his hands, if he is driven from every +position he takes up--so that there is nothing left for him to do, +except to admit that he is wrong, such a man will sometimes take +refuge in the saying, that, after all, argue as you may, he has a +right to his own opinion. But we cannot allow the claim. No man has a +right to wrong opinions. There cannot be any right <a name="125">{125}</a> in wrong +opinions. You have no right to an opinion unless it is founded upon +that which is universal in man, his reason. You cannot claim this +right on behalf of your subjective impressions, and irrational whims. +To do so is to make the mistake of the Sophists. +</p> +<p> +The tendencies of the more shallow type of modern rationalism exhibit +a similar Sophistical thought. It is pointed out that moral ideas vary +very much in different countries and ages, that in Japan, for example, +prostitution is condoned, and that in ancient Egypt incest was not +condemned. Now it is important to know these facts. They should serve +as a warning to us against dogmatic narrow-mindedness in moral +matters. But some people draw from these facts the conclusion that +there is no universally valid and objectively real moral law. The +conclusion does not follow from the premises, and the conclusion is +false. People's opinions differ, not only on moral questions, but upon +every subject under the sun. Because men, a few hundred years ago, +believed that the earth was flat, whereas now we believe it is round, +it does not follow that it has in reality no shape at all, that there +is no objective truth in the matter. And because men's opinions +differ, in different ages and countries, as to what the true moral law +is, it does not follow that there is no objective moral law. +</p> +<p> +We will take as our last example the current talk about the importance +of developing one's personality. A man, it is said, should "be +himself," and the expression of his own individuality must be his +leading idea. Now certainly it is good to be oneself in the sense that +it is hypocritical to pretend to be what one is not. Moreover, it is +no doubt true that each man has certain special <a name="126">{126}</a> gifts, which he +ought to develop, so that all, in their diverse ways, may contribute +as much as possible to the spiritual and material wealth of the world. +But this ideal of individuality often leads to false developments, as +we see in the spheres of art and of education. Such a man as Oscar +Wilde, whose personality is essentially evil, defends his artistic +principles on the ground that he must needs express his personality, +that art is nothing but such personal expression, and that it is +subject to no standard save the individuality of the artist. Some +writers on education, among them Mr. Bernard Shaw, who has many points +in common with the Sophists, tell us that to attempt to mould the +character of a child by discipline, is to sin against its personality, +and that the child should be allowed to develop its individuality +unchecked in its own way. But against this we have to protest that to +make the cultivation of individuality an end in itself, and to put +exclusive emphasis on this, is wrong. The cultivation of an +individuality is not in itself a good thing; it is not a good thing if +the individuality be a worthless one. If a child exhibits savage or +selfish tendencies, it must be subjected to discipline, and it is +ridiculous to make a fetish of its personality to such an extent as to +allow it to develop as it likes. In a similar way, the ideal of +individuality is often interpreted to mean that the cultivation of the +mere eccentricities and oddities of the individual is something good. +But the personal peculiarities of a man are just what is worthless +about him. That alone which entitles him to the sacred rights of a +"person" is his rational and universal nature. +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="127">{127}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERX">CHAPTER X</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +SOCRATES +</p> +<p> +Amid the destruction of all ideals of truth and morality, which was +brought about by the Sophists, there appeared in Athens the figure of +Socrates, who was destined to restore order out of chaos, and to +introduce sanity into the disordered intellectual life of the time. +Socrates was born about 470 B.C. in Athens. His father was a sculptor, +his mother a midwife. Very little is known of his early years and +education, except that he took up his father's occupation as a +sculptor. In later years some statues used to be shown at the +Acropolis in Athens, which were said to be the work of Socrates. But +comparatively early in life he deserted his profession in order to +devote himself to what he considered his mission in life, philosophy. +He spent his entire life in Athens, never departing from it, save for +short periods on three occasions, when he served in military +expeditions in the Athenian army. For from twenty to thirty years he +laboured at his philosophical mission in Athens, until, in his +seventieth year, he was charged with denying the national gods, +introducing new gods of his own, and corrupting the Athenian youth. On +these charges he was condemned to death and executed. +</p> +<p> +<a name="128">{128}</a> +</p> +<p> +The personal appearance of Socrates was grotesque. He was short, +thick-set, and ugly. As he grew older he became bald; his nose was +broad, flat, and turned up; he walked with a peculiar gait, and had a +trick of rolling his eyes. His clothes were old and poor. He cared +little or nothing for external appearances. +</p> +<p> +Socrates believed that he was guided in all his actions by a +supernatural voice, which he called his "daemon." This voice, he +thought, gave him premonitions of the good or evil consequences of his +proposed actions, and nothing would induce him to disobey its +injunctions. Socrates constructed no philosophy, that is to say, no +system of philosophy. He was the author of philosophical tendencies, +and of a philosophic method. He never committed his opinions to +writing. His method of philosophizing was purely conversational. It +was his habit to go down every day to the market place in Athens, or +to any other spot where people gathered, and there to engage in +conversation with anyone who was ready to talk to him about the deep +problems of life and death. Rich or poor, young or old, friend or +stranger, whoever came, and would attend, could listen freely to the +talk of Socrates. He took no fees, as the Sophists did, and remained +always a poor man. He did not, like the Sophists, deliver long +speeches, tirades, and monologues. He never monopolised the +conversation, and frequently it was the other party who did most of +the talking, Socrates only interposing questions and comments, and yet +remaining always master of the conversation, and directing it into +fruitful channels. The conversation proceeded chiefly by the method of +question and answer, Socrates by acute questions educing, bringing to +birth, <a name="129">{129}</a> the thoughts of his partner, correcting, refuting, or +developing them. +</p> +<p> +In carrying on this daily work, Socrates undoubtedly regarded himself +as engaged upon a mission in some way supernaturally imposed upon him +by God. Of the origin of this mission we have an account in the +"Apology" of Plato, who puts into the mouth of Socrates the following +words:--"Chairephon .... made a pilgrimage to Delphi and had the +audacity to ask this question from the oracle .... He actually asked +if there was any man wiser than I. And the priestess answered, No .... +When I heard the answer, I asked myself: What can the god mean? what +can he be hinting? For certainly I have never thought myself wise in +anything, great or small. What can he mean then, when he asserts that +I am the wisest of men? He cannot lie, of course: that would be +impossible for him. And for a long while I was at a loss to think what +he could mean. At last, after much thought, I started on some such +course as this. I betook myself to one of the men who seemed wise, +thinking that there, if anywhere, I should refute the utterance, and +could say to the oracle: 'This man is wiser than I, and you said I was +the wisest.' Now when I looked into the man--there is no need to give +his name--it was one of our citizens, men of Athens, with whom I had +an experience of this kind--when we talked together I thought, 'This +man seems wise to many men, and above all to himself, but he is not +so'; and then I tried to show that he thought he was wise, but he was +not. Then he got angry with me and so did many who heard us, but I +went away and thought to myself, 'Well, at any rate I am wiser than +this man: probably neither of <a name="130">{130}</a> us knows anything of beauty or of +good, but he thinks he knows something when he knows nothing, and I, +if I know nothing, at least never suppose that I do. So it looks as +though I really were a little wiser than he, just in so far as I do +not imagine myself to know things about which I know nothing at all.' +After that I went to another man who seemed to be wiser still, and I +had exactly the same experience, and then he got angry with me too, +and so did many more. Thus I went round them all, one after the other, +aware of what was happening and sorry for it, and afraid that they +were getting to hate me." +</p> +<p> +In this passage we can see, too, the supposed origin of another +peculiar Socratic feature, the Socratic "irony." In any discussion, +Socrates would, as a rule, profess himself to be totally ignorant of +the matter in hand, and only anxious to learn the wisdom possessed by +his interlocutor. This professed ignorance was not affectation. He was +genuinely impressed with the notion that not only he, but all other +men, live for the most part in ignorance of the things that are the +most important to be known, the nature of goodness, beauty, and truth. +He believed that the self-styled knowledge of the wise was, for the +most part, nothing but pretentious ignorance. Nevertheless, he used +this profession of ignorance as a weapon of offence, and it became in +his hands a powerful rhetorical instrument, which he used with +specially telling effect against those who, puffed up with their own +importance and wisdom, pretended to knowledge which they did not +possess. Such hollow pretence of knowledge met with uncompromising +exposure at the hands of Socrates. With such persons he would open the +<a name="131">{131}</a> conversation with a confession of his own ignorance and an +expression of his desire to learn the wisdom, which, he knew, they +possessed. In their eagerness to show off their knowledge, they would, +perhaps, rush into the breach with some very positive assertion. +Socrates would express himself as delighted with this, but would add +that there were one or two things about it which he did not fully +understand, and he would proceed, with a few dexterous questions, to +expose the hollowness, the shallowness, or the ignorance of the +answers. +</p> +<p> +It was chiefly the young men of Athens who gathered round Socrates, +who was for them a centre of intellectual activity and a fountain of +inspiration. It was this fact which afterwards formed the basis of the +charge that he "corrupted the youth." He was a man of the noblest +character and of the simplest life. Accepting no fees, he acquired no +wealth. Poor, caring nothing for worldly goods, wholly independent of +the ordinary needs and desires of men, he devoted himself exclusively +to the acquisition of that which, in his eyes, alone had value, wisdom +and virtue. He was endowed with the utmost powers of physical +endurance and moral strength. When he served with the army in the +Peloponnesian war, he astonished his fellow-soldiers by his bravery, +and his cheerful endurance of every hardship. On two occasions, at +considerable risk to himself, he saved the lives of his companions. At +the battle of Delium it is said that Socrates was the only man who +kept his head in the rout of the Athenians. He was an excellent +companion, and though simple in his habits, and independent of all +material pleasures, never made a fetish of this independence, nor +allowed it to degenerate into a harsh asceticism, <a name="132">{132}</a> Thus, he +needed no wine, but yet, if occasion called for it, he not only drank, +but could drink more than any other man without turning a hair. In the +"Banquet" of Plato, Socrates is depicted sitting all night long +drinking and talking philosophy with his friends. One by one the +guests succumbed, leaving only Socrates and two others, and at last, +as the dawn broke, these two also fell asleep. But Socrates got up, +washed himself, and went down to the market place to begin his daily +work. +</p> +<p> +In his seventieth year he was tried on three charges: (1) for denying +the national gods, (2) for setting up new gods of his own, (3) for +corrupting the youth. All these charges were entirely baseless. The +first might well have been brought against almost any of the earlier +Greek thinkers with some justice. Most of them disbelieved in the +national religion; many of them openly denied the existence of the +gods. Socrates, almost alone, had refrained from any such attitude. On +the contrary, he always enjoined veneration towards the gods, and +urged his hearers, in whatever city they might be, to honour the gods +according to the custom of that city. According to Xenophon, however, +he distinguished between the many gods and the one creator of the +universe, who controls, guides, and guards over the lives of men. The +second charge appears to have been based upon the claim of Socrates to +be guided by a supernatural inner voice, but whatever we may think of +this claim, it can hardly constitute good ground for a charge of +introducing new gods. The third charge, that of corrupting the youth, +was equally baseless, though the fact that Alcibiades, who had been a +favourite pupil of Socrates, afterwards turned traitor to Athens, and +<a name="133">{133}</a> led, moreover, a dissolute and unprincipled life, no doubt +prejudiced the philosopher in the eyes of the Athenians. But Socrates +was not responsible for the misdeeds of Alcibiades, and his general +influence upon the Athenian youth was the very opposite of corrupting. +</p> +<p> +What then were the real reasons for these accusations? In the first +place, there is no doubt that Socrates had made many personal enemies. +In his daily disputations he had not spared even the most powerful men +in Athens, but had ruthlessly laid bare the ignorance of those who +pretended to be wise. There is, however, no reason to believe that the +three men who actually laid the charges, Melitus, Lycon, and Anytus, +did so out of any personal animosity. But they were men of straw, put +forward by more powerful persons who remained behind the scenes. In +the second place, Socrates had rendered himself obnoxious to the +Athenian democracy. He was no aristocrat in feeling, nor was he a +supporter of the vested interests and privileges of the few. But he +could not accommodate himself to the mob-rule which then went by the +name of democracy. The government of the State, he believed, should be +in the hands of the wise, the just, and the good, those competent and +trained to govern, and these are necessarily the few. He himself had +taken no part in the political life of the time, preferring to guide +by his influence and advice the young men on whom some day the duties +of the State would devolve. On two occasions only did he take an +active part in politics, and on both occasions his conduct gave great +offence. Both these incidents are recounted in a passage in Plato's +"Apology," which I will quote. The <a name="134">{134}</a> first incident refers to the +aftermath of the battle of Arginusae. The Athenian fleet had gained a +victory here, but lost twenty-five ships of war, and the whole of the +crews of these ships were drowned. This was attributed to the +carelessness of the generals, and there was great indignation in +Athens, upon their return whither the generals were put upon their +trial. According to the law of Athens each accused had to be given a +separate trial, but in their eagerness to have the generals condemned, +the judges in this instance decided to try them all in a body. "You +know, men of Athens," says Socrates in the "Apology," "that I have +never held any other office in the State, but I did serve on the +Council. And it happened that my tribe, Antiochis, had the Presidency +at the time you decided to try the ten generals who had not taken up +the dead after the fight at sea. You decided to try them in one body, +contrary to law, as you all felt afterwards. On that occasion I was +the only one of the Presidents who opposed you, and told you not to +break the law; and I gave my vote against you; and when the orators +were ready to impeach and arrest me, and you encouraged them and +hooted me, I thought then that I ought to take all the risks on the +side of law and justice, rather than side with you, when your +decisions were unjust, through fear of imprisonment or death. That was +while the city was still under the democracy. When the oligarchy came +into power, the Thirty, in their turn, summoned me with four others to +the Rotunda, and commanded us to fetch Leon of Salamis from that +island, in order to put him to death: the sort of commands they often +gave to many others, anxious as they were to incriminate all they +could. And on that occasion <a name="135">{135}</a> I showed not by words only, that for +death, to put it bluntly, I did not care one straw--but I did care, +and to the full, about doing what was wicked and unjust. I was not +terrified then into doing wrong by that government in all its power; +when we left the Rotunda, the other four went off to Salamis and +brought Leon back, but I went home. And probably I should have been +put to death for it, if the government had not been overthrown soon +afterwards." +</p> +<p> +But there was a third, and greater reason, for the condemnation of +Socrates. These charges were brought against him because the popular +mind confused him with the Sophists. This was entirely absurd, because +Socrates in no respect resembled the Sophists, either in the manner of +his life or in the tendency of his thought, which was wholly +anti-sophistical. But that such a confusion did exist in the popular +mind is clearly proved by "The Clouds" of Aristophanes. Aristophanes +was a reactionary in thought and politics, and, hating the Sophists as +the representatives of modernism, he lampooned them in his comedy, +"The Clouds." Socrates appears in the play as the central character, +and the chief of the Sophists. This was entirely unjust, but it +affords evidence of the fact that Socrates was commonly mistaken for a +Sophist by the Athenians. Aristophanes would not have ventured to +introduce such a delusion into his play, had his audience not shared +in it. Now at this time a wave of reaction was passing over Athens, +and there was great indignation against the Sophists, who were rightly +supposed to be overturning all ideals of truth and goodness. Socrates +fell a victim to the anger of the populace against the Sophists. +</p> +<p> +<a name="136">{136}</a> +</p> +<p> +At the trial Socrates conducted himself with dignity and confidence. +It was usual in those days for an accused person to weep and lament, +to flatter the judges, to seek indulgence by grovelling and fawning, +to appeal for pity by parading his wife and children in the court. +Socrates refused to do any of these things, considering them unmanly. +His "defence" was, indeed, not so much a defence of himself as an +arraignment of his judges, the people of Athens, for their corruption +and vice. This attitude of Socrates certainly brought about his +condemnation. There is every reason to believe that if he had adopted +a grovelling, even a conciliatory tone, he would have been acquitted. +As it was, he was found guilty by a bare majority. The law enacted +that, when the charge was proved, those who had brought the accusation +should first propose the penalty which they thought fitting; then the +accused himself should propose an alternative penalty. It was for the +judges to decide which of the two should be inflicted. The accusers of +Socrates proposed the death-penalty. Here again Socrates might have +escaped by proposing at once some petty punishment. This would have +satisfied the people, who were only anxious to score off the +troublesome philosopher and pedant. But Socrates proudly affirmed +that, as he was guilty of no crime, he deserved no punishment. To +propose a penalty would be to admit his guilt. Far from being a guilty +person, he considered himself in the light of a public benefactor, and +as such, if he were to get his deserts, he proposed that he should be +publicly honoured by being given a seat at the President's table. +Nevertheless, as the law forced him to propose a penalty, he would, +without prejudice to his <a name="137">{137}</a> plea of innocence, suggest a fine of +thirty minas. This conduct so exasperated the judges that he was now +condemned to death by a large majority, about eighty of those who had +previously voted for his acquittal now voting for his execution. +</p> +<p> +Thirty days elapsed before he was executed, and these days were spent +in prison. His friends, who had free access to him, urged him to +escape. These things were possible in Athens. Anaxagoras had +apparently escaped with the help of Pericles. A little silver in the +hands of the jailguards would probably have settled the matter. +Socrates could fly to Thessaly, where the law could not reach him, as +Anaxagoras had fled to Ionia. But Socrates steadily refused, saying +that to flee from death was cowardly, and that one ought to obey the +laws. The law had decreed his death, and he must obey. After thirty +days, therefore, the poison cup was brought to him, and he drank it +without flinching. Here is Plato's account of the death of Socrates, +which I quote from the "Phaedo." In detail it cannot be considered +historical, but we may well believe that the main incidents as well as +the picture it gives us of the bearing and demeanour of the +philosopher in his last moments, are accurate representations of the +facts. +</p> +<p> +"He rose and went into a chamber to bathe, and Crito followed him, but +he directed us to wait for him. We waited, therefore, conversing among +ourselves about what had been said, and considering it again, and +sometimes speaking about our calamity, how severe it would be to us, +sincerely thinking that, like those who are deprived of a father, we +should pass the rest of our lives as orphans. When he had bathed and +his <a name="138">{138}</a> children were brought to him, for he had two little sons and +one grown up, and the women belonging to his family were come, having +conversed with them in the presence of Crito, and given them such +injunctions as he wished, he directed the women and children to go +away, and then returned to us. And it was now near sunset; for he +spent a considerable time within. But when he came from bathing he sat +down and did not speak much afterwards: then the officer of the Eleven +came in and standing near him said, 'Socrates, I shall not have to +find that fault with you that I do with the others, that they are +angry with me, and curse me, when, by order of the archons, I bid them +drink the poison. But you, on all other occasions during the time you +have been here, I have found to be the most noble, meek and excellent +man of all that ever came into this place; and, therefore, I am now +well convinced that you will not be angry with me. Now, then, for you +know what I came to announce to you, farewell, and endeavour to bear +what is inevitable as easily as possible.' And at the same time, +bursting into tears, he turned away and withdrew. And Socrates, +looking after him, said, 'And thou too, farewell, we will do as you +direct.' At the same time, turning to us he said 'How courteous the +man is; during the whole time I have been here he has visited me, and +conversed with me sometimes, and proved the worthiest of men; and how +generously he weeps for me. But come, Crito, let us obey him and let +some one bring the poison, if it is ready pounded, but if not let the +man pound it.' +</p> +<p> +"Then Crito said, 'But I think, Socrates, that the sun is still on the +mountains, and has not yet set. Besides, <a name="139">{139}</a> I know that others have +drunk the poison very late, after it had been announced to them, and +have supped and drunk freely, and some even have enjoyed the objects +of their love. Do not hasten them, for there is yet time.' +</p> +<p> +"Upon this Socrates replied, 'These men whom you mention, Crito, do +these things with good reason, for they think they shall gain by so +doing, and I too with good reason, shall not do so; for I think I +shall gain nothing by drinking a little later, except to become +ridiculous to myself, in being so fond of life, and sparing of it when +none any longer remains. Go then,' he said, 'obey, and do not resist.' +</p> +<p> +"Crito having heard this, nodded to the boy that stood near. And the +boy having gone out, and stayed for some time, came, bringing with him +the man that was to administer the poison, who brought it ready +pounded in a cup. And Socrates, on seeing the man, said, 'Well, my +good friend, as you are skilled in these matters, what must I do?' +'Nothing else,' he replied, 'than when you have drunk it walk about, +until there is a heaviness in your legs, then lie down; thus it will +do its purpose.' And at the same time he held out the cup to Socrates. +And he having received it very cheerfully, Echecrates, neither +trembling, nor changing at all in colour or countenance, but, as he +was wont, looking steadfastly at the man, said, 'what say you of this +potion, with respect to making a libation to anyone, is it lawful or +not?' 'We only pound so much, Socrates,' he said, 'as we think +sufficient to drink.' 'I understand you,' he said, 'but it is +certainly both lawful and right to pray to the gods that my departure +hence thither may be happy; which therefore I pray, and so <a name="140">{140}</a> may +it be.' And as he said this he drank it off readily and calmly. Thus +far, most of us were with difficulty able to restrain ourselves from +weeping, but when we saw him drinking, and having finished the +draught, we could do so no longer; but in spite of myself the tears +came in full torrent, so that, covering my face, I wept for myself, +for I did not weep for him, but for my own fortune, in being deprived +of such a friend. But Crito, even before me, when he could not +restrain his tears, had risen up. But Apollodorus even before this had +not ceased weeping, and then, bursting into an agony of grief, weeping +and lamenting, he pierced the heart of everyone present, except +Socrates himself. But he said. 'What are you doing, my admirable +friends? I indeed, for this reason chiefly, sent away the women, that +they might not commit any folly of this kind. For I have heard that it +is right to die with good omens. Be quiet, therefore, and bear up.' +</p> +<p> +"When we heard this we were ashamed, and restrained our tears. But he, +having walked about, when he said that his legs were growing heavy, +lay down on his back; for the man so directed him. And at the same +time he who gave him the poison, taking hold of him, after a short +interval examined his feet and legs; and then having pressed his foot +hard, he asked if he felt it; he said that he did not. And after this +he pressed his thighs; and thus going higher he showed us that he was +growing cold and stiff. Then Socrates touched himself, and said that +when the poison reached his heart he should then depart. But now the +parts around the lower belly were almost cold; when uncovering +himself, for he had been covered over, he said; and they were his +<a name="141">{141}</a> last words. 'Crito, we owe a cock to AEsculapius; pay it, +therefore, and do not neglect it.' 'It shall be done,' said Crito, +'but consider whether you have anything else to say.' +</p> +<p> +"To this question he gave no reply; but shortly after he gave a +convulsive movement, and the man covered him, and his eyes were fixed, +and Crito, perceiving it, closed his mouth and eyes. +</p> +<p> +"This, Echecrates, was the end of our friend, a man, as we may say, +the best of all of his time that we have known, and moreover, the most +wise and just." +</p> +<p> +Our knowledge of the teaching of Socrates is derived chiefly from two +sources, Plato and Xenophon, for the peculiarities of each of whom +allowances must be made. Plato in his dialogues makes Socrates the +mouthpiece of his own teaching, consequently the majority of the +tenets to which Socrates is made to give expression are purely +Platonic doctrines of which the historical Socrates could never even +have dreamed. It might, therefore, seem at first sight that there is +no possibility of ascertaining from Plato's dialogues any trustworthy +account of the ideas of Socrates. But on closer inspection this does +not turn out to be correct, because the earlier dialogues of Plato +were written before he had developed his own philosophy, and when he +was, to all intents and purposes, simply a disciple of Socrates, bent +only upon giving the best expression to the Socratic doctrine. Even in +these Socratic dialogues, however, we have what is no doubt an +idealized portrait of Socrates. Plato makes no pretence of being +merely a biographer or historian. The incidents and conversation, +although they are no doubt frequently founded upon facts, are, in the +<a name="142">{142}</a> main, imaginary. All we can say is that they contain the gist +and substance of the philosophy of Socrates. The other source, +Xenophon, also has his peculiarities. If Plato was an idealizing +philosopher, Xenophon was a prosaic and matter of fact man of affairs. +He was a plain, honest soldier. He had no great insight into any +philosophy, Socratic or otherwise. He was not attached to Socrates +primarily as a philosopher, but as an admirer of his character and +personality. If Plato puts the teaching of Socrates too high, Xenophon +puts it too low. But, in spite of this, Xenophon's Memorabilia +contains a mass of valuable information both about the life and the +philosophical ideas of Socrates. +</p> +<p> +The Socratic teaching is essentially ethical in character. In this +alone did Socrates bear any resemblance to the Sophists. It was the +Sophists who had introduced into Greek philosophy the problem of man, +and of the duties of man. And to these problems Socrates also turns +his exclusive attention. He brushes aside all questions as to the +origin of the world, or the nature of the ultimate reality, of which +we have heard so much in the philosophies of the earlier thinkers. +Socrates openly deprecated such speculations and considered all such +knowledge comparatively worthless as against ethical knowledge, the +knowledge of man. Mathematics, physics, and astronomy, he thought, +were not valuable forms of knowledge. He said that he never went for +walks outside the city, because there is nothing to be learnt from +fields and trees. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless the ethical teaching of Socrates was founded upon a +theory of knowledge, which is quite simple, but extremely important. +The Sophists had founded knowledge upon perception, with the result +<a name="143">{143}</a> that all objective standards of truth had been destroyed. It was +the work of Socrates to found knowledge upon reason, and thereby to +restore to truth its objectivity. Briefly, the theory of Socrates may +be summarized by saying that he taught that <i>all knowledge is knowledge +through concepts</i>. What is a concept? When we are directly conscious of +the presence of any particular thing, a man, a tree, a house, or a +star, such consciousness is called perception. When, shutting our +eyes, we frame a mental picture of such an object, such consciousness +is called an image or representation. Such mental images are, like +perceptions, always ideas of particular individual objects. But +besides these ideas of individual objects, whether through +sense-perception or imagination, we have also general ideas, that is +to say, not ideas of any particular thing, but ideas of whole classes +of things. If I say "Socrates is mortal," I am thinking of the +individual, Socrates. But if I say "Man is mortal," I am thinking, not +of any particular man, but of the class of men in general. Such an +idea is called a general idea, or a concept. All class-names, such as +man, tree, house, river, animal, horse, being, which stand, not for +one thing, but for a multitude of things, represent concepts. We form +these general ideas by including in them all the qualities which the +whole class of objects has in common, and excluding from them all the +qualities in which they differ, that is to say, the qualities which +some of the objects possess, but others do not. For example, I cannot +include the quality whiteness in my general idea of horses, because, +though some horses are white, others are not. But I can include the +quality vertebrate because all horses agree in being vertebrate. Thus +a <a name="144">{144}</a> concept is formed by bringing together the ideas in which all +the members of a class of objects agree with one another, and +neglecting the ideas in which they differ. +</p> +<p> +Now reason is the faculty of concepts. This may not, at first sight, +be obvious. Reason, it might be objected, is the faculty of arguing, +of drawing conclusions from premises. But a little consideration will +show us that, though this is so, yet all reasoning is employed upon +concepts. All reasoning is either deductive or inductive. Induction +consists in the formulation of general principles from particular +cases. A general principle is always a statement made, not about a +particular thing, but about a whole class of things, that is, about a +concept. Concepts are formed inductively by comparing numerous +examples of a class. Deductive reasoning is always the opposite +process of applying general principles to particular cases. If we +argue that Socrates must be mortal because all men are so, the +question is whether Socrates is a man, that is to say, whether the +concept, man, is properly applied to the particular object called +Socrates. Thus inductive reasoning is concerned with the formation of +concepts, deductive reasoning with the application of them. +</p> +<p> +Socrates, in placing all knowledge in concepts, was thus making reason +the organ of knowledge. This was in direct opposition to the principle +of the Sophists, who placed all knowledge in sense-perception. Now +since reason is the universal element in man, it follows that +Socrates, in identifying knowledge with concepts, was restoring the +belief in an objective truth, valid for all men, and binding upon all +men, and was destroying the Sophistic teaching that the truth is +whatever each <a name="145">{145}</a> individual chooses to think it is. We shall see +this more clearly if we reflect that a concept is the same thing as a +definition. If we wish to define any word, for example, the word man, +we must include in our definition only the qualities which all men +have in common. We cannot, for example, define man as a white-skinned +animal, because all men are not white-skinned. Similarly we cannot +include "English-speaking" in our definition, because, though some men +speak English, others do not. But we might include such a quality as +"two-legged," because "two-legged" is a quality common to all human +beings, except mere aberrations and distortions of the normal type. +Thus a definition is formed in the same way as a concept, namely, by +including the common qualities of a class of objects, and excluding +the qualities in which the members of the class differ. A definition, +in fact, is merely the expression of a concept in words. Now by the +process of fixing definitions we obtain objective standards of truth. +If, for example, we fix the definition of a triangle, then we can +compare any geometrical figure with it, and say whether it is a +triangle or not. It is no longer open to anyone to declare that +whatever he chooses to call a triangle is a triangle. Similarly, if we +fix upon a definition of the word man, we can then compare any object +with that definition, and say whether it is a man or not. Again, if we +can decide what the proper concept of virtue is, then the question +whether any particular act is virtuous can only be decided by +comparing that act with the concept, and seeing if they agree. The +Sophist can no longer say, "whatever seems to me right, is right for +me. Whatever I choose to do is virtuous for me." His act must be +judged, not by <a name="146">{146}</a> his subjective impressions, but by the concept or +definition, which is thus an objective standard of truth, independent +of the individual. This, then, was the theory of knowledge propounded +by Socrates. Knowledge, he said, is not the same thing as the +sensations of the individual, which would mean that each individual +can name as the truth whatever he pleases. Knowledge means knowledge +of things as they objectively are, independently of the individual, +and such knowledge is knowledge of the concepts of things. Therefore +the philosophizing of Socrates consisted almost exclusively in trying +to frame proper concepts. He went about enquiring, "What is virtue?" +"What is prudence?" "What is temperance?"--meaning thereby "what are +the true concepts or definitions of these things?" In this way he +attempted to find a basis for believing in an objectively real truth +and an objectively real moral law. +</p> +<p> +His method of forming concepts was by induction. He would take common +examples of actions which are universally admitted to be prudent, and +would attempt to find the quality which they all have in common, and +by virtue of which they are all classed together, and so form the +concept of prudence. Then he would bring up fresh examples, and see +whether they agreed with the concept so formed. If not, the concept +might have to be corrected in the light of the new examples. +</p> +<p> +But the Socratic theory of knowledge was not a theory put forward for +its own sake, but for practical ends. Socrates always made theory +subservient to practice. He wanted to know what the concept of virtue +is, only in order to practise virtue in life. And this brings us to +the central point of the ethical teaching of Socrates, <a name="147">{147}</a> which was +the identification of virtue with knowledge. Socrates believed that a +man cannot act rightly, unless he first knows what is right, unless, +in fact, he knows the concept of right. Moral action is thus founded +upon knowledge, and must spring from it. But not only did Socrates +think that if a man has not knowledge, he cannot do right. He also put +forward the much more doubtful assertion that if a man possesses +knowledge, he cannot do wrong. All wrong-doing arises from ignorance. +If a man only knows what is right, he must and will infallibly do what +is right. All men seek the good, but men differ as to what the good +is. "No man," said Socrates, "intentionally does wrong." He does +wrong, because he does not know the true concept of right, and being +ignorant, thinks that what he is doing is good. "If a man intentionally +does wrong," said Socrates again, "he is better than a man who does so +unintentionally." For the former has in him the essential condition of +goodness, knowledge of what goodness is, but the latter, lacking that +knowledge, is hopeless. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle, in commenting upon this whole doctrine, observed that +Socrates had ignored or forgotten the irrational parts of the soul. +Socrates imagined that everybody's actions are governed solely by +reason, and that therefore if only they reasoned aright, they must do +right. He forgot that the majority of men's actions are governed by +passions and emotions, "the irrational parts of the soul." Aristotle's +criticism of Socrates is unanswerable. All experience shows that men +do deliberately do wrong, that, knowing well what is right, they +nevertheless do wrong. But it is easy to see why Socrates made this +mistake; he was arguing only from <a name="148">{148}</a> his own case. Socrates really +does appear to have been above human weakness. He was not guided by +passions, but by reason, and it followed as the night follows the day, +that if Socrates knew what was right, he did it. He was unable to +understand how men, knowing the right, could yet do the wrong. If they +are vicious, he thought, it must be because they do not know what is +right. The criticism of Aristotle is thus justified. Yet for all that, +the theory of Socrates is not to be too quickly brushed aside. There +is more truth in it than appears at first sight. We say that a man +believes one thing and does another. Yet it is a matter of question +what a man really believes, and what is the test of his belief. Men go +to church every Sunday, and there repeat formulas and prayers, of +which the main idea is that all earthly riches are worthless in +comparison with spiritual treasures. Such men, if asked, might tell us +that they believe this to be true. They believe that they believe it. +And yet in actual life, perhaps, they seek only for earthly riches, +and behave as if they thought these the supreme good. What do such men +really believe? Do they believe as they speak, or as they act? Is it +not at least arguable that they are really pursuing what they believe +to be good, and that, if they were genuinely convinced of the +superiority of spiritual treasures, they would seek them, and not +material riches? This at least is what Socrates thought. All men seek +the good, but the many do not know what the good is. There is +certainly truth in this in many cases, though in others there can be +no doubt that men do deliberately what they know to be evil. +</p> +<p> +There are two other characteristic Socratic propositions <a name="149">{149}</a> which +flow from the same general idea, that virtue is identical with +knowledge. The first is, that virtue can be taught. We do not +ordinarily think that virtue can be taught like arithmetic. We think +that virtue depends upon a number of factors, prominent among which +are the inborn disposition of a man, heredity, environment, modified +to some extent by education, practice, and habit. The consequence is +that a man's character does not change very much as he grows older. By +constant practice, by continual self-control, a man may, to some +extent, make himself better, but on the whole, what he is he remains. +The leopard, we say, does not change his spots. But as, for Socrates, +the sole condition of virtue is knowledge, and as knowledge is just +what can be imparted by teaching, it followed that virtue must be +teachable. The only difficulty is to find the teacher, to find some +one who knows the concept of virtue. What the concept of virtue +is--that is, thought Socrates, the precious piece of knowledge, which +no philosopher has ever discovered, and which, if it were only +discovered, could at once be imparted by teaching, whereupon men would +at once become virtuous. +</p> +<p> +The other Socraticism is that "virtue is one." We talk of many +virtues, temperance, prudence, foresight, benevolence, kindness, etc. +Socrates believed that all these particular virtues flowed from the +one source, knowledge. Therefore knowledge itself, that is to say, +wisdom, is the sole virtue, and this includes all the others. +</p> +<p> +This completes the exposition of the positive teaching of Socrates. It +only remains for us to consider what position Socrates holds in the +history of thought. There are two sides of the Socratic teaching. In +the first <a name="150">{150}</a> place, there is the doctrine of knowledge, that all +knowledge is through concepts. This is the scientific side of the +philosophy of Socrates. Secondly, there is his ethical teaching. Now +the essential and important side of Socrates is undoubtedly the +scientific theory of concepts. It is this which gives him his position +in the history of philosophy. His ethical ideas, suggestive as they +were, were yet all tainted with the fallacy that men are governed only +by reason. Hence they have exercised no great influence on the history +of thought. But the theory of concepts worked a revolution in +philosophy. Upon a development of it is founded the whole of Plato's +philosophy, and, through Plato, the philosophy of Aristotle, and, +indeed, all subsequent idealism. The immediate effect of this theory, +however, was the destruction of the teaching of the Sophists. The +Sophists taught the doctrine that truth is sense-perception, and as +the perceptions of different individuals differ in regard to the same +object, it followed that truth became a matter of taste with the +individual. This undermined all belief in truth as an objective +reality, and, by similar reasoning, faith in the objectivity of the +moral law was also destroyed. The essential position of Socrates is +that of a restorer of faith. His greatness lay in the fact that he saw +that the only way to combat the disastrous results of the Sophistic +teaching was to refute the fundamental assumption from which all that +teaching flowed, the assumption, namely, that knowledge is perception. +Against this, therefore, Socrates opposed the doctrine that knowledge +is through concepts. To base knowledge upon concepts is to base it +upon the universality of reason, and therefore to restore it from the +<a name="151">{151}</a> position of a subjective seeming to that of an objective +reality. +</p> +<p> +But though Socrates is thus a restorer of faith, we must not imagine +that his thought is therefore a mere retrogression to the intellectual +condition of pre-Sophistic times. It was, on the contrary, an advance +beyond the Sophists. We have here, in fact, an example of what is the +normal development of all thought, whether in the individual or the +race. The movement of thought exhibits three stages. The first stage +is positive belief, not founded upon reason; it is merely conventional +belief. At the second stage thought becomes destructive and sceptical. +It denies what was affirmed in the previous stage. The third stage is +the restoration of positive belief now founded upon the concept, upon +reason, and not merely upon custom. Before the time of the Sophists, +men took it for granted that truth and goodness are objective +realities; nobody specially affirmed it, because nobody denied it. It +seemed obvious. It was, thus, not believed on rational grounds, but +through custom and habit. This, the first stage of thought, we may +call the era of simple faith. When the Sophists came upon the scene, +they brought reason and thought to bear upon what had hitherto been +accepted as a matter of course, namely law, custom, and authority. The +first encroachment of reason upon simple faith is always destructive, +and hence the Sophists undermined all ideals of goodness and truth. +Socrates is the restorer of these ideals, but with him they are no +longer the ideals of simple faith; they are the ideals of reason. They +are based upon reason. Socrates substituted comprehending belief for +unintelligent assent. We may contrast him, in this <a name="152">{152}</a> respect, with +Aristophanes. Aristophanes, the conservative, the believer in the +"good old times," saw, as clearly as Socrates, the disastrous effects +worked by the Sophists upon public morals. But the remedy he proposed +was a violent return to the "good old times." Since it was thought +which worked these ill effects, thought must be suppressed. We must go +back to simple faith. But simple faith, once destroyed by thought, +never returns either to the individual, or to the race. This can no +more happen than a man can again become a child. There is only one +remedy for the ills of thought, and that is, more thought. If thought, +in its first inroads, leads, as it always does, to scepticism and +denial, the only course is, not to suppress thought, but to found +faith upon it. This was the method of Socrates, and it is the method, +too, of all great spirits. They are not frightened of shadows. They +have faith in reason. If reason leads them into the darkness, they do +not scuttle back in fright. They advance till the light comes again. +They are false teachers who counsel us to give no heed to the +promptings of reason, if reason brings doubt into our beliefs. Thought +cannot be thus suppressed. Reason has rights upon us as rational +beings. We cannot go back. We must go on, and make our beliefs +rational. We must found them upon the concept, as Socrates did. +Socrates did not deny the principle of the Sophists that all +institutions, all ideals, all existing and established things must +justify themselves before the tribunal of reason. He accepted this +without question. He took up the challenge of thought, and won the +battle of reason in his day. +</p> +<p> +The Sophists brought to light the principle of subjectivity, the +principle that the truth must be <i>my</i> truth, <a name="153">{153}</a> and the right <i>my</i> +right. They must be the products of my own thinking, not standards +forcibly imposed upon me from without. But the mistake of the Sophists +was to imagine that the truth must be mine, merely in my capacity as a +percipient creature of sense, which means that I have a private truth +of my own. Socrates corrected this by admitting that the truth must be +my truth, but mine in my capacity as a rational being, which means, +since reason is the universal, that it is not my private truth, but +universal truth which is shared by and valid for all rational beings. +Truth is thus established as being not mere subjective appearance, but +objective reality, independent of the sensations, whims, and self-will +of the individual. The whole period of Socrates and the Sophists is +full of instruction. Its essential lesson is that to deny the +supremacy of reason, to set up any other process of consciousness +above reason, must inevitably end in scepticism and the denial of the +objectivity of truth and morality. Many theosophists and others, at +the present day, teach the doctrine of what they call "intuition." The +supreme kind of religious knowledge, they think, is to be reached by +intuition, which is conceived as something higher than reason. But +this is simply to make the mistake of Protagoras over again. It is +true that this so-called intuition is not merely sense-perception, as +was the case with Protagoras. It is, however, a form of immediate +spiritual perception. It is immediate apprehension of the object as +being present to me, as having <i>thereness</i>. It is therefore of the +nature of perception. It is spiritual and super-sensuous, as opposed +to material and sensuous, perception. But it makes no difference at +all whether perception is sensuous <a name="154">{154}</a> or super-sensuous. To place +the truth in any sort of perception is, in principle, to do as +Protagoras did, to yield oneself up a helpless prey to the subjective +impressions of the individual. I intuit one thing; another man intuits +the opposite. What I intuit must be true for me, what he intuits true +for him. For we have denied reason, we have placed it below intuition, +and have thereby discarded that which alone can subject the varying +impressions of each individual to the rule of a universal and +objective standard. The logical conclusion is that, since each man's +intuition is true for him, there is no such thing as an objective +truth. Nor can there be such a thing, in these circumstances, as an +objective goodness. Thus the theory must end in total scepticism and +darkness. The fact that theosophists do not, as a matter of fact, draw +these sceptical conclusions, simply means that they are not as +clear-headed and logical as Protagoras was. +</p> +<p> +<a name="155">{155}</a> +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERXI">CHAPTER XI</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +THE SEMI-SOCRATICS +</p> +<p> +Upon the death of Socrates there ensued a phenomenon which is not +infrequent in the history of thought. A great and many-sided +personality combines in himself many conflicting tendencies and ideas. +Let us take an example, not, however, from the sphere of intellect, +but from the sphere of practical life. We often say that it is +difficult to reconcile mercy and justice. Among the many small +personalities, one man follows only the ideal of mercy, and as his +mercy has not in it the stern stuff of justice, it degenerates into +mawkishness and sentimental humanitarianism. Another man follows only +the ideal of justice, forgetting mercy, and he becomes harsh and +unsympathetic. It takes a greater man, a larger personality, +harmoniously to combine the two. And as it is in the sphere of +practical life, so it is in the arena of thought and philosophy. A +great thinker is not he who seizes upon a single aspect of the truth, +and pushes that to its extreme limit, but the man who combines, in one +many-sided system, all the varying and conflicting sides of truth. By +emphasizing one thought, by being obsessed by a single idea and +pushing it to its logical conclusion, regardless of the other aspects +of the truth, one may indeed achieve a considerable local and <a name="156">{156}</a> +temporary reputation; because such a procedure often leads to striking +paradoxes, to strange and seemingly uncommon conclusions. The +reputations of such men as Nietzsche, Bernard Shaw, Oscar Wilde, are +made chiefly in this way. But upon the death of a great all-embracing +personality, just because his thought is a combination of so many +divergent truths, we often find that it splits up into its component +parts, each of which gives rise to a one-sided school of thought. The +disciples, being smaller men, are not able to grasp the great man's +thought in its wholeness and many-sidedness. Each disciple seizes upon +that portion of his master's teaching which has most in common with +his own temperament, and proceeds to erect this one incomplete idea +into a philosophy, treating the part as if it were the whole. This is +exactly what happened after the death of Socrates. Only one man among +his disciples was able to grasp the whole of his teaching, and +understand the whole of his personality, and that was Plato. Among the +lesser men who were the followers and personal friends of Socrates, +there were three who founded schools of philosophy, each partial and +one-sided, but each claiming to be the exponent of the true +Socraticism. Antisthenes founded the Cynic school, Aristippus the +Cyrenaic, and Euclid the Megaric. +</p> +<p> +Now, of the two aspects of the Socratic philosophy, the theory of +concepts, and the ethical theory, it is easy for us, looking back upon +history, to see which it was that influenced the history of thought +most, and which, therefore, was the most important. But the men of his +own time could not see this. What they fastened upon was the obvious +aspect of Socrates, his ethics, and above all the ethical teaching +which was expressed, not so <a name="157">{157}</a> much in abstract ideas, as in the +life and personality of the master. Both this life and this teaching +might be summed up in the thought that virtue is the sole end of life, +that, as against virtue, all else in the world, comfort, riches, +learning, is comparatively worthless. It is this, then, that virtue is +the sole end of life, which forms the point of agreement between all +the three semi-Socratic schools. We have now to see upon what points +they diverge from one another. +</p> +<p> +If virtue is the sole end of life, what precisely is virtue? Socrates +had given no clear answer to this question. The only definition he had +given was that virtue is knowledge, but upon examination it turns out +that this is not a definition at all. Virtue is knowledge, but +knowledge of what? It is not knowledge of astronomy, of mathematics, +or of physics. It is ethical knowledge, that is to say, knowledge of +virtue. To define virtue as the knowledge of virtue is to think in a +circle, and gets us no further in the enquiry what virtue is. But +Socrates, as a matter of fact, did not think in a circle. He did not +mean that virtue is knowledge, although his doctrine is often, +somewhat misleadingly, stated in that form. What he meant was--quite a +different thing--that virtue <i>depends upon</i> knowledge. It is the first +condition of virtue. The principle, accurately stated, is, not that +virtue is the knowledge of virtue, which is thinking in a circle, but +that virtue depends upon the knowledge of virtue, which is quite +straight thinking. Only if you know what virtue is can you be +virtuous. Hence we have not here any definition of virtue, or any +attempt to define it. We are still left with the question, "what is +virtue?" unanswered. +</p> +<p> +<a name="158">{158}</a> +</p> +<p> +No doubt this was due in part to the unmethodical and unsystematic +manner in which Socrates developed his thought, and this, in its turn, +was due to his conversational style of philosophizing. For it is not +possible to develop systematic thinking in the course of casual +conversations. But in part, too, it was due to the very universality +of the man's genius. He was broad enough to realize that it is not +possible to tie down virtue in any single narrow formula, which shall +serve as a practical receipt for action in all the infinitely various +circumstances of life. So that, in spite of the fact that his whole +principle lay in the method of definitions, Socrates, in fact, left +his followers without any definition of the supreme concept of his +philosophy, virtue. It was upon this point, therefore, that the +followers of Socrates disagreed. They all agreed that virtue is the +sole end of life, but they developed different ideas as to what sort +of life is in fact virtuous. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +The Cynics. +</p> +<p> +Antisthenes, the founder of the Cynic School, repeated the familiar +propositions that virtue is founded upon knowledge, is teachable, and +is one. But what aroused the admiration of Antisthenes was not +Socrates, the man of intellect, the man of science, the philosopher, +but Socrates, the man of independent character, who followed his own +notions of right with complete indifference to the opinions of others. +This independence was in fact merely a by-product of the Socratic +life. Socrates had been independent of all earthly goods and +possessions, caring neither for riches nor for applause, only because +his heart was set upon a greater treasure, the acquisition of wisdom. +Mere independence and indifference to the <a name="159">{159}</a> opinions of others +were not for him ends in themselves. He did not make fetishes of them. +But the Cynics interpreted his teaching to mean that the independence +of earthly pleasures and possessions is in itself the end and object +of life. This, in fact, was their definition of virtue, complete +renunciation of everything that, for ordinary men, makes life worth +living, absolute asceticism, and rigorous self-mortification. +Socrates, again, thinking that the only knowledge of supreme value is +ethical knowledge, had exhibited a tendency to disparage other kinds +of knowledge. This trait the Cynics exaggerated into a contempt for +all art and learning so great as frequently to amount to ignorance and +boorishness. "Virtue is sufficient for happiness," said Antisthenes, +"and for virtue nothing is requisite but the strength of a Socrates; +it is a matter of action, and does not require many words, or much +learning." The Cynic ideal of virtue is thus purely negative; it is +the absence of all desire, freedom from all wants, complete +independence of all possessions. Many of them refused to own houses or +any dwelling place, and wandered about as vagrants and beggars. +Diogenes, for the same reason, lived in a tub. Socrates, following +single-heartedly what he knew to be good, cared nothing what the +vulgar said. But this indifference to the opinion of others was, like +his independence of possessions, not an end in itself. He did not +interpret it to mean that he was wantonly to offend public opinion. +But the Cynics, to show their indifference, flouted public opinion, +and gave frequent and disgusting exhibitions of indecency. +</p> +<p> +Virtue, for the Cynics, is alone good. Vice is the only evil. Nothing +else in the world is either good or bad. <a name="160">{160}</a> Everything else is +"indifferent." Property, pleasure, wealth, freedom, comfort, even life +itself, are not to be regarded as goods. Poverty, misery, illness, +slavery, and death itself, are not to be regarded as evils. It is no +better to be a freeman than a slave, for if the slave have virtue, he +is in himself free, and a born ruler. Suicide is not a crime, and a +man may destroy his life, not however to escape from misery and pain +(for these are not ills), but to show that for him life is +indifferent. And as the line between virtue and vice is absolutely +definite, so is the distinction between the wise man and the fool. All +men are divided into these two classes. There is no middle term +between them. Virtue being one and indivisible, either a man possesses +it whole or does not possess it at all. In the former case he is a +wise man, in the latter case a fool. The wise man possesses all +virtue, all knowledge, all wisdom, all happiness, all perfection. The +fool possesses all evil, all misery, all imperfection. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +The Cyrenaics. +</p> +<p> +For the Cyrenaics, too, virtue is, at least formally, the sole object +of life. It is only formally, however, because they give to virtue a +definition which robbed it of all meaning. Socrates had not +infrequently recommended virtue on account of the advantages which it +brings. Virtue, he said, is the sole path to happiness, and he had not +refrained from holding out happiness as a motive for virtue. This did +not mean, however, that he did not recognize a man's duty to do the +right for its own sake, and not for the sake of the advantage it +brings. "Honesty," we say, "is the best policy," <a name="161">{161}</a> but we do not +mean thereby to deny that it is the duty of men to be honest even if +it is not, in some particular case, the best policy. Socrates, +however, had not been very clear upon these points, and had been +unable to find any definite basis for morality, other than that of +happiness. It was this side of his teaching which Aristippus now +pressed to its logical conclusions, regardless of all other claims. +Doubtless virtue is the sole end of life, but the sole end of virtue +is one's own advantage, that is to say, pleasure. One may as well say +at once that the sole end of life is pleasure. +</p> +<p> +The influence of Protagoras and the Sophists also played its part in +moulding the thought of Aristippus. Protagoras had denied the +objectivity of truth, and the later Sophists had applied the same +theory to morals. Each man is a law unto himself. There is no moral +code binding upon the individual against his own wishes. Aristippus +combined this with his doctrine of pleasure. Pleasure being the sole +end of life, no moral law externally imposed can invalidate its +absolute claims. Nothing is wicked, nothing evil, provided only it +satisfies the individual's thirst for pleasure. +</p> +<p> +Whether such a philosophy will lead, in practice, to the complete +degradation of its devotees, depends chiefly upon what sort of +pleasure they have in mind. If refined and intellectual pleasures are +meant, there is no reason why a comparatively good life should not +result. If bodily pleasures are intended, the results are not likely +to be noble. The Cyrenaics by no means wholly ignored the pleasures of +the mind, but they pointed out that feelings of bodily pleasure are +more potent and intense, and it was upon these, therefore, that they +chiefly <a name="162">{162}</a> concentrated their attention. Nevertheless they were +saved from the lowest abysses of sensuality and bestiality by their +doctrine that, in the pursuit of pleasure, the wise man must exercise +prudence. Completely unrestrained pursuit of pleasure leads in fact to +pain and disaster. Pain is that which has to be avoided. Therefore the +wise man will remain always master of himself, will control his +desires, and postpone a more urgent to a less urgent desire, if +thereby in the end more pleasure and less pain will accrue to him. The +Cyrenaic ideal of the wise man is the man of the world, bent indeed +solely upon pleasure, restrained by no superstitious scruples, yet +pursuing his end with prudence, foresight, and intelligence. Such +principles would, of course, admit of various interpretations, +according to the temperament of the individual. We may notice two +examples. Anniceris, the Cyrenaic, believed indeed that pleasure is +the sole end, but set such store upon the pleasures that arise from +friendship and family affection, that he admitted that the wise man +should be ready to sacrifice himself for his friends or family--a +gleam of light in the moral darkness. Hegesias, a pessimist, +considered that positive enjoyment is impossible of attainment. In +practice the sole end of life which can be realized is the avoidance +of pain. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +The Megarics. +</p> +<p> +Euclid of Megara was the founder of this school. His principle was a +combination of Socraticism with Eleaticism. Virtue is knowledge, but +knowledge of what? It is here that the Eleatic influence became +visible. With Parmenides, the Megarics believed in the One Absolute +Being. All multiplicity, all motion, are illusory. <a name="163">{163}</a> the world of +sense has in it no true reality. Only Being is. If virtue is +knowledge, therefore, it can only be the knowledge of this Being. If +the essential concept of Socrates was the Good and the essential +concept of Parmenides Being, Euclid now combined the two. The Good is +identified with Being. Being, the One, God, the Good, divinity, are +merely different names for one and the same thing. Becoming, the many, +Evil, are the names of its opposite, not-being, Multiplicity is thus +identified with evil, and both are declared illusory. Evil has no real +existence. The Good alone truly is. The various virtues, as +benevolence, temperance, prudence, are merely different names for the +one virtue, knowledge of Being. +</p> +<p> +Zeno, the Eleatic, had shown that multiplicity and motion are not only +unreal but even impossible, since they are self-contradictory. The +Megarics appropriated this idea, together with the dialectic of Zeno, +and concluded that since not-being is impossible, Being includes all +possibility. Whatever is possible is also actual. There is no such +thing as a possible something, which yet does not exist. +</p> +<p> +As the Cynics found virtue in renunciation and negative independence, +the Cyrenaics in the hedonistic pursuit of pleasure, so the Megarics +find it in the life of philosophic contemplation, the knowledge of +Being. +</p> +<p> +<a name="164">{164}</a> +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERXII">CHAPTER XII</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +PLATO +</p> +<p> +None of the predecessors of Plato had constructed a system of +philosophy. What they had produced, and in great abundance, were +isolated philosophical ideas, theories, hints, and suggestions. Plato +was the first person in the history of the world to produce a great +all-embracing system of philosophy, which has its ramifications in all +departments of thought and reality. In doing this, Plato laid all +previous thought under contribution. He gathered the entire harvest of +Greek philosophy. All that was best in the Pythagoreans, the Eleatics, +Heracleitus, and Socrates, reappears, transfigured in the system of +Plato. But it is not to be imagined, on this account, that Plato was a +mere eclectic, or a plagiarist, who took the best thoughts of others, +and worked them into some sort of a patch-work philosophy of his own. +He was, on the contrary, in the highest degree an original thinker. +But like all great systems of thought, that of Plato grows out of the +thought of previous thinkers. He does indeed appropriate the ideas of +Heracleitus, Parmenides, and Socrates. But he does not leave them as +he finds them. He takes them as the germs of a new development. They +are the foundations, below ground, upon which he builds the palace of +philosophy. In his hands, all previous thought becomes <a name="165">{165}</a> +transfigured under the light of a new and original principle. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +1. Life and Writings. +</p> +<p> +The exact date of the birth of Plato is a matter of doubt. But the +date usually given, 429-7 B.C. cannot be far wrong. He came of an +aristocratic Athenian family, and was possessed of sufficient wealth +to enable him to command that leisure which was essential for a life +devoted to philosophy. His youth coincided with the most disastrous +period of Athenian history. After a bitter struggle, which lasted over +a quarter of a century, the Peloponnesian war ended in the complete +downfall of Athens as a political power. And the internal affairs of +the State were in no less confusion than the external. Here, as +elsewhere, a triumphant democracy had developed into mob-rule. Then at +the close of the Peloponnesian war, the aristocratic party again came +into power with the Thirty Tyrants, among whom were some of Plato's +own relatives. But the aristocratic party, so far from improving +affairs, plunged at once into a reign of bloodshed, terror, and +oppression. These facts have an important bearing upon the history of +Plato's life. If he ever possessed any desire to adopt a political +career, the actual condition of Athenian affairs must have quenched +it. An aristocrat, both in thought and by birth, he could not +accommodate himself to the rule of the mob. And if he ever imagined +that the return of the aristocracy to power would improve matters, he +must have been bitterly disillusioned by the proceedings of the Thirty +Tyrants. Disgusted alike with the democracy and the aristocracy he +seems to have retired into seclusion. He never once, throughout his +long life, appeared as a <a name="166">{166}</a> speaker in the popular assembly. He +regarded the Athenian constitution as past help. +</p> +<p> +Not much is known of the philosopher's youth. He composed poems. He +was given the best education that an Athenian citizen of those days +could obtain. His teacher, Cratylus, was a follower of Heracleitus, +and Plato no doubt learned from him the doctrines of that philosopher. +It is improbable that he allowed himself to remain unacquainted with +the disputations of the Sophists, many of whom were his own +contemporaries. He probably read the book of Anaxagoras, which was +easily obtainable in Athens at the time. But on all these points we +have no certain information. What we do know is that the decisive +event in his youth, and indeed in his life, was his association with +Socrates. +</p> +<p> +For the last eight years of the life of Socrates, Plato was his friend +and his faithful disciple. The teaching and personality of the master +constituted the supreme intellectual impulse of his life, and the +inspiration of his entire thought. And the devotion and esteem which +he felt for Socrates, so far from waning as the years went by, seem, +on the contrary, to have grown continually stronger. For it is +precisely in the latest dialogues of his long life that some of the +most charming and admiring portraits of Socrates are to be found. +Socrates became for him the pattern and exemplar of the true +philosopher. +</p> +<p> +After the death of Socrates a second period opens in the life of +Plato, the period of his travels. He migrated first to Megara, where +his friend and fellow-disciple Euclid was then founding the Megaric +school. The Megaric philosophy was a combination of the thought of +Socrates with that of the Eleatics. And it was no doubt here, at <a name="167">{167}</a> +Megara, under the influence of Euclid, that Plato formed his deeper +acquaintance with the teaching of Parmenides, which exercised an +all-important influence upon his own philosophy. From Megara he +travelled to Cyrene, Egypt, Italy, and Sicily. In Italy he came in +contact with the Pythagoreans. And to the effects of this journey may +be attributed the strong Pythagorean elements which permeate his +thought. +</p> +<p> +In Sicily he attended the court of Dionysius the Elder, tyrant of +Syracuse. But here his conduct seems to have given grave offence. +Dionysius was so angered by his moralizings and philosophical +diatribes that he put Plato up to auction in the slave market. Plato +narrowly escaped the fate of slavery, but was ransomed by Anniceris, +the Cyrenaic. He then returned to Athens, his travels having occupied +a period of about ten years. +</p> +<p> +With the return of Plato to Athens we enter upon the third and last +period of his life. With the exception of two journeys to be mentioned +shortly, he never again left Athens. He now appeared for the first +time as a professional teacher and philosopher. He chose for the scene +of his activities a gymnasium, called the Academy. Here he gradually +collected round him a circle of pupils and disciples. For the rest of +his life, a period of about forty years, he occupied himself in +literary activity, and in the management of the school which he had +founded. His manner of life was in strong contrast to that of +Socrates. Only in one respect did he resemble his master. He took no +fees for his teaching. Otherwise the lives of the two great men bear +no resemblance to each other. Socrates had gone out into the highways +and byways in search of wisdom. He had wrangled in <a name="168">{168}</a> the +market-place with all comers. Plato withdrew himself into the +seclusion of a school, protected from the hubbub of the world by a +ring of faithful disciples. It was not to be expected that a man of +Plato's refinement, culture, and aristocratic feelings, should +appreciate, as Socrates, the man of the people, had done, the +rough-and-tumble life of the Athenian market-place. Nor was it +desirable for the advancement of philosophy that it should be so. The +Socratic philosophy had suffered from the Socratic manner of life. It +was unmethodical and inchoate. Systematic thought is not born of +disputes at the street corner. For the development of a great +world-system, such as that of Plato, laborious study and quiet +seclusion were essential. +</p> +<p> +This period of Plato's mastership was broken only by two journeys to +Sicily, both undertaken with political objects. Plato knew well that +the perfect State, as depicted in his "Republic," was not capable of +realization in the Greece of his own time. Nevertheless, he took his +political philosophy very seriously. Though the perfect republic was +an unattainable ideal, yet, he thought, any real reform of the State +must at least proceed in the direction of that ideal. One of the +essential principles of the "Republic" was that the rulers must also +be philosophers. Not till philosopher and ruler were combined in one +and the same person could the State be governed upon true principles. +Now, in the year 368 B.C., Dionysius the Elder died, and Dionysius the +younger became tyrant of Syracuse. Dionysius despatched an invitation +to Plato to attend his court and give him the benefit of his advice. +Here was an opportunity to experiment. Plato could train and educate a +<a name="169">{169}</a> philosopher-king. He accepted the invitation. But the expedition +ended disastrously. Dionysius received him with enthusiasm, and +interested himself in the philosophical discourses of his teacher. But +he was young, impetuous, hot-headed, and without genuine philosophic +bent. His first interest gave place to weariness and irritation. Plato +left Syracuse a disappointed man; and returned to Athens. +Nevertheless, after the lapse of a few years, Dionysius again invited +him to Syracuse, and again he accepted the invitation. But the second +journey ended in disaster like the first, and Plato was even in danger +of his life, but was rescued by the intervention of the Pythagoreans. +He returned to Athens in his seventieth year, and lived till his death +in the seclusion of his school, never again attempting to intervene in +practical politics. +</p> +<p> +For more than another decade he dwelt and taught in Athens. His life +was serene, quiet, and happy. He died peacefully at the age of +eighty-two. +</p> +<p> +Plato's writings take the form of dialogues. In the majority of these, +the chief part is taken by Socrates, into whose mouth Plato puts the +exposition of his own philosophy. In a few, as for example the +"Parmenides," other speakers enunciate the Platonic teaching, but even +in these Socrates always plays an important <i>rôle</i>. Plato was not only +a philosopher, but a consummate literary artist. The dialogues are +genuinely dramatic, enlivened by incident, humour, and life-like +characterization. Not only is the portrait of Socrates drawn with +loving affection, but even the minor characters are flesh and blood. +</p> +<p> +A most important element of Plato's style is his use of myths. He does +not always explain his meaning in <a name="170">{170}</a> the form of direct scientific +exposition. He frequently teaches by allegories, fables, and stories, +all of which may be included under the one general appellation of +Platonic myths. These are often of great literary beauty, but in spite +of this they involve grave disadvantages. Plato slips so easily from +scientific exposition into myth, that it is often no easy matter to +decide whether his statements are meant literally or allegorically. +Moreover, the myths usually signify a defect in his thought itself. +The fact is that the combination of poet and philosopher in one man is +an exceedingly dangerous combination. I have explained before that the +object of philosophy is, not merely to feel the truth, as the poet and +mystic feel it, but intellectually to comprehend it, not merely to +give us a series of pictures and metaphors, but a reasoned explanation +of things upon scientific principles. When a man, who is at once a +poet and a philosopher, cannot rationally explain a thing, it is a +terrible temptation to him to substitute poetic metaphors for the +explanation which is lacking. We saw, for example, that the writers of +the Upanishads, who believed that the whole world issues forth from +the one, absolute, imperishable, being, which they called Brahman, +being unable to explain why the One thus differentiates itself into +the many, took refuge in metaphors. As the sparks from the substantial +fire, so, they say, do all finite beings issue forth from the One. But +this explains nothing, and the aim of the philosopher is not thus +vaguely to feel, but rationally to understand. Now this is not merely +my view of the functions of philosophy. It is emphatically Plato's own +view. In fact Plato was the originator of it. He is perpetually +insisting that <a name="171">{171}</a> nothing save full rational comprehension deserves +the names of knowledge and philosophy. No writer has ever used such +contemptuous language as Plato used of the mere mystic and poet, who +says wise and beautiful things, without in the least understanding why +they are wise and beautiful. No man has formed such a low estimate of +the functions of the poet and mystic. Plato is, in theory at least, +the prince of rationalists and intellectualists. In practice, however, +he must be convicted of the very fault he so severely censured in +others. This, in fact, is the explanation of most of the Platonic +myths. Wherever Plato is unable to explain anything, he covers up the +gap in his system with a myth. This is particularly noticeable, for +example, in the "Timaeus." Plato having, in other dialogues, developed +his theory of the nature of the ultimate reality, arrives, in the +"Timaeus," at the problem how the actual world is to be explained from +that ultimate reality. At this point, as we shall see, Plato's system +breaks down. His account of the absolute reality is defective, and in +consequence, it affords no principle whereby the actual universe can +be explained. In the "Timaeus," therefore, instead of a reasoned +explanation, he gives us a series of wholly fanciful myths about the +origin of the world. Wherever we find myths in Plato's dialogues, we +may suspect that we have arrived at one of the weak points of the +system. +</p> +<p> +If we are to study Plato intelligently, it is essential that we should +cease to regard the dialogues as if they were all produced <i>en bloc</i> +from a single phase of their author's mind. His literary activity +extended over a period of not less than fifty years. During that time, +he did not stand still. His thought, and his mode of <a name="172">{172}</a> expression, +were constantly developing. If we are to understand Plato, we must +obtain some clue to enable us to trace this development. And this +means that we must know something of the order in which the dialogues +were written. Unfortunately, however, they have not come down to us +dated and numbered. It is a matter of scholarship and criticism to +deduce the period at which any dialogue was written from internal +evidences. Many minor points are still undecided, as well as a few +questions of importance, such as the date of the "Phaedrus," [Footnote +11] which some critics place quite early and some very late in Plato's +life. Neglecting these points, however, we may say in general that +unanimity has been reached, and that we now know enough to be able to +trace the main lines of development. +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 11: The same remark applies to the "Symposium," the +"Republic," and the "Theaetetus."] +</p> +<p> +The dialogues fall into three main groups, which correspond roughly to +the three periods of Plato's life. Those of the earliest group were +written about the time of the death of Socrates, and before the +author's journey to Megara. Some of them may have been written before +the death of Socrates. This group includes the "Hippias Minor," the +"Lysis," the "Charmides," the "Laches," the "Euthyphro," the +"Apology," the "Crito," and the "Protagoras." The "Protagoras" is the +longest, the most complex in thought, and the most developed. It is +probably the latest, and forms the bridge to the second group. +</p> +<p> +All these early dialogues are short and simple, and are still, as +regards their thought, entirely under the influence of Socrates. Plato +has not as yet developed <a name="173">{173}</a> any philosophy of his own. He propounds +the philosophy of Socrates almost unaltered. Even so, however, he is +no mere plagiarist. There are throughout these dialogues evidences of +freshness and originality, but these qualities exhibit themselves +rather in the literary form than in the philosophical substance. We +find here all the familiar Socratic propositions, that virtue is +knowledge, is one, is teachable; that all men seek the good, but that +men differ as to what the good is; that a man who does wrong +deliberately is better than a man who does it unintentionally; and so +on. Moreover, just as Socrates had occupied himself in attempting to +fix the concepts of the virtues, asking "what is prudence?", "what is +temperance?", and the like, so in many of these dialogues Plato +pursues similar inquiries. The "Lysis" discusses the concept of +friendship, the "Charmides" of temperance, the "Laches" of bravery. On +the whole, the philosophical substance of these early writings is thin +and meagre. There is a preponderance of incident and much biographical +detail regarding Socrates. There is more art than matter. +Consequently, from a purely literary point of view, these are among +the most charming of Plato's dialogues, and many of them, such as the +"Apology" and the "Crito," are especially popular with those who care +for Plato rather as an artist than as a philosopher. +</p> +<p> +The second group of dialogues is generally connected with the period +of Plato's travels. In addition to the influence of Socrates, we have +now the influence of the Eleatics, which naturally connects these +dialogues with the period of the philosopher's sojourn at Megara. But +it is in these dialogues, too, that Plato for the first time <a name="174">{174}</a> +develops his own special philosophical thesis. This is in fact his +great constructive period. The central and governing principle of his +philosophy is the theory of Ideas. All else hinges on this, and is +dominated by this. In a sense, his whole philosophy is nothing but the +theory of Ideas and what depends upon it. It is in this second period +that the theory of Ideas is founded and developed, and its +relationship to the Eleatic philosophy of Being discussed. We have +here the spectacle of Plato's most original thoughts in the pangs of +childbirth. He is now at grips with the central problems of +philosophy. He is intent upon the thought itself, and cares little for +the ornaments of style. He is struggling to find expression for ideas +newly-formed in his mind, of which he is not yet completely master, +and which he cannot manipulate with ease. Consequently, the literary +graces of the first period recede into the background. There is little +incident, and no humour. There is nothing but close reasoning, hard +and laborious discussion. +</p> +<p> +The twin dialogues, "Gorgias" and "Theaetetus" are probably the +earliest of this group. They result in nothing very definite, and are +chiefly negative in character. Plato is here engaged merely in a +preparatory clearing of the ground. The "Gorgias" discusses and +refutes the Sophistic identification of virtue and pleasure, and +attempts to show, as against it, that the good must be something +objectively existent, and independent of the pleasure of the +individual. The "Theaetetus," similarly, shows that truth is not, as +the Sophists thought, merely the subjective impression of the +individual, but is something objectively true in itself. The other +<a name="175">{175}</a> dialogues of the group are the "Sophist," the "Statesman," and +the "Parmenides." The "Sophist" discusses Being and not-being, and +their relationship to the theory of Ideas. The "Parmenides" inquires +whether the absolute reality is to be regarded, in the manner of the +Eleatics, as an abstract One. It gives us, therefore, Plato's +conception of the relation of his own philosophy to Eleaticism. +</p> +<p> +The dialogues of the third group are the work of Plato's maturity. He +has now completely mastered his thought, and turns it with ease in all +directions. Hence the style returns to the lucidity and purity of the +first period. If the first period was marked chiefly by literary +grace, the second by depth of thought, the third period combines both. +The perfect substance is now moulded in the perfect form. But a +peculiarity of all the dialogues of this period is that they take it +for granted that the theory of Ideas is already established and +familiar to the reader. They proceed to apply it to all departments of +thought. The second period was concerned with the formulation and +proof of the theory of Ideas, the third period undertakes its +systematic application. Thus the "Symposium," which has for its +subject the metaphysic of love, attempts to connect man's feeling for +beauty with the intellectual knowledge of the Ideas. The "Philebus" +applies the theory of Ideas to the sphere of ethics, the "Timaeus" to +the sphere of physics, and the "Republic" to the sphere of politics. +The "Phaedo" founds the doctrine of the immortality of the soul upon +the theory of Ideas. The "Phaedrus" is probably to be grouped with the +"Symposium." The beauty, grace, and lucidity of the style, and the +fact that it assumes throughout that <a name="176">{176}</a> the theory of Ideas is a +thing established, lead us to the belief that it belongs to the period +of Plato's maturity. Zeller's theory that it was written at the +beginning of the second period, and is then offered to the reader as a +sort of sweetmeat to induce him to enter upon the laborious task of +reading the "Sophist," the "Statesman," and the "Parmenides," seems to +be far-fetched and unnecessary. [Footnote 12] +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 12: Zeller's <i>Plato and the Older Academy</i>, chap. iii.] +</p> +<p> +If the second is the great constructive period of Plato's life, the +third may be described as his systematic and synthetic period. Every +part of his philosophy is here linked up with every other part. All +the details of the system are seen to flow from the one central +principle of his thought, the theory of Ideas. Every sphere of +knowledge and being is in turn exhibited in the light of that +principle, is permeated and penetrated by it. +</p> +<p> +The plan for expounding Plato which first suggests itself is to go +through the dialogues, one by one, and extract the doctrine of each +successively. But this suggestion has to be given up as soon as it is +mentioned. For although the philosophy of Plato is in itself a +systematic and coherent body of thought, he did not express it in a +systematic way. On the contrary, he scatters his ideas in all +directions. He throws them out at random in any order. What logically +comes first often appears last. It may be found at the end of a +dialogue, and the next step in reasoning may make its appearance at +the beginning, or even in a totally different dialogue. If, therefore, +we are to get any connected view of the system, we must abandon +Plato's own order of exposition, and piece the thought together for +ourselves. We must begin <a name="177">{177}</a> with what logically comes first, +wherever we may find it, and proceed with the exposition in the same +manner. +</p> +<p> +A similar difficulty attends the question of the division of Plato's +philosophy. He himself has given us no single and certain principle of +division. But the principle usually adopted divides his philosophy +into Dialectic, Physics, and Ethics. Dialectic, or the theory of +Ideas, is Plato's doctrine of the nature of the absolute reality. +Physics is the theory of phenomenal existence in space and time, and +includes therefore the doctrine of the soul and its migrations, since +these are happenings in time. Ethics includes politics, the theory of +the duty of man as a citizen, as well as the ethics of the individual. +Certain portions of the system, the doctrine of Eros, for example, do +not fall very naturally into any of these divisions. But, on the other +hand, though some dialogues are mixed as to their subject matter, +others, and those the most important, fall almost exclusively into one +or other division. For example, the "Timaeus," the "Phaedo," and the +"Phaedrus," are physical. The "Philebus," the "Gorgias," and the +"Republic," are ethical. The "Theaetetus," the "Sophist," and the +"Parmenides," are dialectical. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +2. The Theory of Knowledge. +</p> +<p> +The theory of Ideas is itself based upon the theory of knowledge. What +is knowledge? What is truth? Plato opens the discussion by telling us +first what knowledge and truth are not. His object here is the +refutation of false theories. These must be disposed of to clear the +ground preparatory to positive exposition. The first such false theory +which he attacks is that knowledge <a name="178">{178}</a> is perception. To refute this +is the main object of the "Theaetetus." His arguments may be +summarized as follows:-- +</p> +<p> +(1) That knowledge is perception is the theory of Protagoras and the +Sophists, and we have seen to what results it leads. What it amounts +to is that what appears to each individual true is true for that +individual. But this is at any rate false in its application to our +judgment of future events. The frequent mistakes which men make about +the future show this. It may appear to me that I shall be Chief +Justice next year. But instead of that, I find myself, perhaps, in +prison. In general, what appears to each individual to be the truth +about the future frequently does not turn out so in the event. +</p> +<p> +(2) Perception yields contradictory impressions. The same object +appears large when near, small when removed to a distance. Compared +with some things it is light, with others heavy. In one light it is +white, in another green, and in the dark it has no colour at all. +Looked at from one angle this piece of paper seems square, from +another it appears to be a rhombus. Which of all these impressions is +true? To know which is true, we must be able to exercise a choice +among these varying impressions, to prefer one to another, to +discriminate, to accept this and reject that. But if knowledge is +perception, then we have no right to give one perception preference +over another. For all perceptions are knowledge. All are true. +</p> +<p> +(3) This doctrine renders all teaching, all discussion, proof, or +disproof, impossible. Since all perceptions are equally true, the +child's perceptions must be just as much the truth as those of his +teachers. His teachers, <a name="179">{179}</a> therefore, can teach him nothing. As to +discussion and proof, the very fact that two people dispute about +anything implies that they believe in the existence of an objective +truth. Their impressions, if they contradict each other, cannot both +be true. For if so, there is nothing to dispute about. Thus all proof +and refutation are rendered futile by the theory of Protagoras. +</p> +<p> +(4) If perception is truth, man is the measure of all things, in his +character as a percipient being. But since animals are also percipient +beings, the lowest brute must be, equally with man, the measure of all +things. +</p> +<p> +(5) The theory of Protagoras contradicts itself. For Protagoras admits +that what appears to me true is true. If, therefore, it appears to me +true that the doctrine of Protagoras is false, Protagoras himself must +admit that it is false. +</p> +<p> +(6) It destroys the objectivity of truth, and renders the distinction +between truth and falsehood wholly meaningless. The same thing is true +and false at the same time, true for you and false for me. Hence it +makes no difference at all whether we say that a proposition is true, +or whether we say that it is false. Both statements mean the same +thing, that is to say, neither of them means anything. To say that +whatever I perceive is true for me merely gives a new name to my +perception, but does not add any value to it. +</p> +<p> +(7) In all perception there are elements which are not contributed by +the senses. Suppose I say, "This piece of paper is white." This, we +might think, is a pure judgment of perception. Nothing is stated +except what I perceive by means of my senses. But on consideration it +turns out that this is not correct. First of all I must <a name="180">{180}</a> think +"this piece of paper." Why do I call it paper? My doing so means that +I have classified it. I have mentally compared it with other pieces of +paper, and decided that it is of a class with them. My thought, then, +involves comparison and classification. The object is a compound +sensation of whiteness, squareness, etc. I can only recognise it as a +piece of paper by identifying these sensations, which I have now, with +sensations received from other similar objects in the past. And not +only must I recognize the sameness of the sensations, but I must +recognize their difference from other sensations. I must not confound +the sensations I receive from paper with those which I receive from a +piece of wood. Both identities and differences of sensations must be +known before I can say "this piece of paper." The same is true when I +go on to say that it "is white." This is only possible by classifying +it with other white objects, and differentiating it from objects of +other colours. But the senses themselves cannot perform these acts of +comparison and contrast. Each sensation is, so to speak, an isolated +dot. It cannot go beyond itself to compare itself with others. This +operation must be performed by my mind, which acts as a co-ordinating +central authority, receiving the isolated sensations, combining, +comparing, and contrasting them. This is particularly noticeable in +cases where we compare sensations of one sense with those of another. +Feeling a ball with my fingers, I say it feels round. Looking at it +with my eyes, I say it looks round. But the feel is quite a different +sensation from the look. Yet I use the same word, "round," to describe +both. And this shows that I have identified the two sensations. This +<a name="181">{181}</a> cannot be done by the senses themselves. For my eyes cannot +feel, and my fingers cannot see. It must be the mind itself, standing +above the senses, which performs the identification. Thus the ideas of +identity and difference are not yielded to me by my senses. The +intellect itself introduces them into things. Yet they are involved in +all knowledge, for they are involved even in the simplest acts of +knowledge, such as the proposition, "This is white." Knowledge, +therefore, cannot consist simply of sense-impressions, as Protagoras +thought, for even the simplest propositions contain more than +sensation. +</p> +<p> +If knowledge is not the same as perception, neither is it, on the +other hand, the same as opinion. That knowledge is opinion is the +second false theory that Plato seeks to refute. Wrong opinion is +clearly not knowledge. But even right opinion cannot be called +knowledge. If I say, without any grounds for the statement, that there +will be a thunderstorm next Easter Sunday, it may chance that my +statement turns out to be correct. But it cannot be said that, in +making this blind guess, I had any knowledge, although, as it turned +out, I had right opinion. Right opinion may also be grounded, not on +mere guess-work, but on something which, though better, is still not +true understanding. We often feel intuitively, or instinctively, that +something is true, though we cannot give any definite grounds for our +belief. The belief may be quite correct, but it is not, according to +Plato, knowledge. It is only right opinion. To possess knowledge, one +must not only know that a thing is so, but why it is so. One must know +the reasons. Knowledge must be full and complete understanding, +rational comprehension, and not mere instinctive belief. <a name="182">{182}</a> It must +be grounded on reason, and not on faith. Right opinion may be produced +by persuasion and sophistry, by the arts of the orator and +rhetorician. Knowledge can only be produced by reason. Right opinion +may equally be removed by the false arts of rhetoric, and is therefore +unstable and uncertain. But true knowledge cannot be thus shaken. He +who truly knows and understands cannot be robbed of his knowledge by +the glamour of words. Opinion, lastly, may be true or false. Knowledge +can only be true. +</p> +<p> +These false theories being refuted, we can now pass to the positive +side of the theory of knowledge. If knowledge is neither perception +nor opinion, what is it? Plato adopts, without alteration, the +Socratic doctrine that all knowledge is knowledge through concepts. +This, as I explained in the lecture on Socrates, gets rid of the +objectionable results of the Sophistic identification of knowledge +with perception. A concept, being the same thing as a definition, is +something fixed and permanent, not liable to mutation according to the +subjective impressions of the individual. It gives us objective truth. +This also agrees with Plato's view of opinion. Knowledge is not +opinion, founded on instinct or intuition. Knowledge is founded on +reason. This is the same as saying that it is founded upon concepts, +since reason is the faculty of concepts. +</p> +<p> +But if Plato, in answering the question, "What is knowledge?" follows +implicitly the teaching of Socrates, he yet builds upon this teaching +a new and wholly un-Socratic metaphysic of his own. The Socratic +theory of knowledge he now converts into a theory of the nature of +reality. This is the subject-matter of Dialectic. +</p> +<p> +<a name="183">{183}</a> +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +3. Dialectic, or the Theory of Ideas. +</p> +<p> +The concept had been for Socrates merely a rule of thought. +Definitions, like guide-rails, keep thought upon the straight path; we +compare any act with the definition of virtue in order to ascertain +whether it is virtuous. But what was for Socrates merely regulative of +thought, Plato now transforms into a metaphysical substance. His +theory of Ideas is the theory of the objectivity of concepts. That the +concept is not merely an idea in the mind, but something which has a +reality of its own, outside and independent of the mind--this is the +essence of the philosophy of Plato. +</p> +<p> +How did Plato arrive at this doctrine? It is founded upon the view +that truth means the correspondence of one's ideas with the facts of +existence. If I see a lake of water, and if there really is such a +lake, then my idea is true. But if there is no lake, then my idea is +false. It is an hallucination. Truth, according to this view, means +that the thought in my mind is a copy of something outside my mind. +Falsehood consists in having an idea which is not a copy of anything +which really exists. Knowledge, of course, means knowledge of the +truth. And when I say that a thought in my mind is knowledge, I must +therefore mean that this thought is a copy of something that exists. +But we have already seen that knowledge is the knowledge of concepts. +And if a concept is true knowledge, it can only be true in virtue of +the fact that it corresponds to an objective reality. There must, +therefore, be general ideas or concepts, outside my mind. It were a +contradiction to suppose, on the one hand, that the concept is true +knowledge, and on the other, that it corresponds to nothing external +<a name="184">{184}</a> to us. This would be like saying that my idea of the lake of +water is a true idea, but that no such lake really exists. The concept +in my mind must be a copy of the concept outside it. +</p> +<p> +Now if knowledge by concepts is true, our experiences through +sensation must be false. Our senses make us aware of many individual +horses. Our intellect gives us the concept of the horse in general. If +the latter is the sole truth, the former must be false. And this can +only mean that the objects of sensation have no true reality. What has +reality is the concept; what has no reality is the individual thing +which is perceived by the senses. This and that particular horse have +no true being. Reality belongs only to the idea of the horse in +general. +</p> +<p> +Let us approach this theory from a somewhat different direction. +Suppose I ask you the question, "What is beauty?" You point to a rose, +and say, "Here is beauty." And you say the same of a woman's face, a +piece of woodland scenery, and a clear moonlight night. But I answer +that this is not what I want to know. I did not ask what things are +beautiful, but what is beauty. I did not ask for many things, but for +one thing, namely, beauty. If beauty is a rose, it cannot be +moonlight, because a rose and moonlight are quite different things. By +beauty we mean, not many things, but one. This is proved by the fact +that we use only one word for it. And what I want to know is what this +one beauty is, which is distinct from all beautiful objects. Perhaps +you will say that there is no such thing as beauty apart from +beautiful objects, and that, though we use one word, yet this is only +a manner of <a name="185">{185}</a> speech, and that there are in reality many beauties, +each residing in a beautiful object. In that case, I observe that, +though the many beauties are all different, yet, since you use the one +word to describe them all, you evidently think that they are similar +to each other. How do you know that they are similar? Your eyes cannot +inform you of this similarity, because it involves comparison, and we +have already seen that comparison is an act of the mind, and not of +the senses. You must therefore have an idea of beauty in your mind, +with which you compare the various beautiful objects and so recognise +them as all resembling your idea of beauty, and therefore as +resembling each other. So that there is at any rate an idea of one +beauty in your mind. Either this idea corresponds to something outside +you, or it does not. In the latter case, your idea of beauty is a mere +invention, a figment of your own brain. If so, then, in judging +external objects by your subjective idea, and in making it the +standard of whether they are beautiful or not, you are back again at +the position of the Sophists. You are making yourself and the fancies +of your individual brain the standard of external truth. Therefore, +the only alternative is to believe that there is not only an idea of +beauty in your mind, but that there is such a thing as the one beauty +itself, of which your idea is a copy. This beauty exists outside the +mind, and it is something distinct from all beautiful objects. +</p> +<p> +What has been said of beauty may equally be said of justice, or of +goodness, or of whiteness, or of heaviness. There are many just acts, +but only one justice, since we use one word for it. This justice must +be a real thing, distinct from all particular just acts. Our ideas of +justice <a name="186">{186}</a> are copies of it. So also there are many white objects, +but also the one whiteness. +</p> +<p> +Of the above examples, several are very exalted moral ideas, such as +beauty, justice, and goodness. But the case of whiteness will serve to +show that the theory attributes reality not only to exalted ideas, but +to others also. In fact, we might quite well substitute evil for +goodness, and all the same arguments would apply. Or we might take a +corporeal object such as the horse, and ask what "horse" means. It +does not mean the many individual horses, for since one word is used +it must mean one thing, which is related to individual horses, just as +whiteness is related to individual white things. It means the +universal horse, the idea of the horse in general, and this, just as +much as goodness or beauty, must be something objectively real. +</p> +<p> +Now beauty, justice, goodness, whiteness, the horse in general, are +all concepts. The idea of beauty is formed by including what is common +to all beautiful objects, and excluding those points in which they +differ. And this, as we have seen, is just what is meant by a concept. +Plato's theory, therefore, is that concepts are objective realities. +And he gives to these objective concepts the technical name Ideas. +This is his answer to the chief question of philosophy, namely, what, +amid all the appearances and unrealities of things, is that absolute +and ultimate reality, from which all else is to be explained? It +consists, for Plato, in Ideas. +</p> +<p> +Let us see next what the characteristics of the Ideas are. In the +first place, they are substances. Substance is a technical term in +philosophy, but its philosophical meaning is merely a more consistent +development of its <a name="187">{187}</a> popular meaning. In common talk, we generally +apply the word substance to material things such as iron, brass, wood, +or water. And we say that these substances possess qualities. For +example, hardness and shininess are qualities of the substance iron. +The qualities cannot exist apart from the substances. They do not +exist on their own account, but are dependent on the substance. The +shininess cannot exist by itself. There must be a shiny something. +But, according to popular ideas, though the qualities are not +independent of the substance, the substance is independent of the +qualities. The qualities derive their reality from the substance. But +the substance has reality in itself. The philosophical use of the term +substance is simply a more consistent application of this idea. +Substance means, for the philosopher, that which has its whole being +in itself, whose reality does not flow into it from anything else, but +which is the source of its own reality. It is self-caused, and +self-determined. It is the ground of other things, but itself has no +ground except itself. For example, if we believe the popular Christian +idea that God created the world, but is Himself an ultimate and +uncreated being, then, since the world depends for its existence upon +God, but God's existence depends only upon Himself, God is a substance +and the world is not. In this sense the word is correctly used in the +Creed where it speaks of God as "three persons, but one substance." +Again, if, with the Idealists, we think that mind is a self-existent +reality, and that matter owes its existence to mind, then in that case +matter is not substance, but mind is. In this technical sense the +Ideas are substances. They are absolute and ultimate realities. +<a name="188">{188}</a> +Their whole being is in themselves. They depend on nothing, but all +things depend on them. They are the first principles of the universe. +</p> +<p> +Secondly, the Ideas are universal. An Idea is not any particular +thing. The Idea of the horse is not this or that horse. It is the +general concept of all horses. It is the universal horse. For this +reason the Ideas are, in modern times, often called "universals." +</p> +<p> +Thirdly, the Ideas are not things, but thoughts. There is no such +thing as the horse-in-general. If there were, we should be able to +find it somewhere, and it would then be a particular thing instead of +a universal. But in saying that the Ideas are thoughts, there are two +mistakes to be carefully avoided. The first is to suppose that they +are the thoughts of a person, that they are your thoughts or my +thoughts. The second is to suppose that they are thoughts in the mind +of God. Both these views are wrong. It would be absurd to suppose that +our thoughts can be the cause of the universe. Our concepts are indeed +copies of the Ideas, but to confuse them with the Ideas themselves is, +for Plato, as absurd as to confuse our idea of a mountain with the +mountain itself. Nor are they the thoughts of God. They are indeed +sometimes spoken of as the "Ideas in the divine mind." But this is +only a figurative expression. We can, if we like, talk of the sum of +all the Ideas as constituting the "divine mind." But this means +nothing in particular, and is only a poetical phrase. Both these +mistakes are due to the fact that we find it difficult to conceive of +thoughts without a thinker. This, however, is just what Plato meant. +They are not subjective ideas, that is, the ideas in a particular and +existent <a name="189">{189}</a> mind. They are objective Ideas, thoughts which have +reality on their own account, independently of any mind. +</p> +<p> +Fourthly, each Idea is a unity. It is the one amid the many. The Idea +of man is one, although individual men are many. There cannot be more +than one Idea for each class of objects. If there were several Ideas +of justice, we should have to seek for the common element among them, +and this common element would itself constitute the one Idea of +justice. +</p> +<p> +Fifthly, the Ideas are immutable and imperishable. A concept is the +same as a definition. And the whole point in a definition is that it +should always be the same. The object of a definition is to compare +individual things with it, and to see whether they agree with it or +not. But if the definition of a triangle differed from day to day, it +would be useless, since we could never say whether any particular +figure were a triangle or not, just as the standard yard in the Tower +of London would be useless if it changed in length, and were twice as +long to-day as it was yesterday. A definition is thus something +absolutely permanent, and a definition is only the expression in words +of the nature of an Idea. Consequently the Ideas cannot change. The +many beautiful objects arise and pass away, but the one Beauty neither +begins nor ends. It is eternal, unchangeable, and imperishable. The +many beautiful things are but the fleeting expressions of the one +eternal beauty. The definition of man would remain the same, even if +all men were destroyed. The Idea of man is eternal, and remains +untouched by the birth, old age, decay, and death, of individual men. +</p> +<p> +Sixthly, the Ideas are the Essences of all things. The definition +gives us what is essential to a thing. If we <a name="190">{190}</a> define man as a +rational animal, this means that reason is of the essence of man. The +fact that this man has a turned-up nose, and that man red hair, are +accidental facts, not essential to their humanity. We do not include +them in the definition of man. +</p> +<p> +Seventhly, each Idea is, in its own kind, an absolute perfection, and +its perfection is the same as its reality. The perfect man is the one +universal type-man, that is, the Idea of man, and all individual men +deviate more or less from this perfect type. In so far as they fall +short of it, they are imperfect and unreal. +</p> +<p> +Eighthly, the Ideas are outside space and time. That they are outside +space is obvious. If they were in space, they would have to be in some +particular place. We ought to be able to find them somewhere. A +telescope or microscope might reveal them. And this would mean that +they are individual and particular things, and not universals at all. +They are also outside time. For they are unchangeable and eternal; and +this does not mean that they are the same at all times. If that were +so, their immutability would be a matter of experience, and not of +reason. We should, so to speak, have to look at them from time to time +to see that they had not really changed. But their immutability is not +a matter of experience, but is known to thought. It is not merely that +they are always the same in time, but that time is irrelevant to them. +They are timeless. In the "Timaeus" eternity is distinguished from +infinite time. The latter is described as a mere copy of eternity. +</p> +<p> +Ninthly, the Ideas are rational, that is to say, they are apprehended +through reason. The finding of the common element in the manifold is +the work of inductive <a name="191">{191}</a> reason, and through this alone is +knowledge of the Ideas possible. This should be noted by those persons +who imagine that Plato was some sort of benevolent mystic. The +imperishable One, the absolute reality, is apprehended, not by +intuition, or in any kind of mystic ecstasy, but only by rational +cognition and laborious thought. +</p> +<p> +Lastly, towards the end of his life, Plato identified the Ideas with +the Pythagorean numbers. We know this from Aristotle, but it is not +mentioned in the dialogues of Plato himself. It appears to have been a +theory adopted in old age, and set forth in the lectures which +Aristotle attended. It is a retrograde step, and tends to degrade the +great and lucid idealism of Plato into a mathematical mysticism. In +this, as in other respects, the influence of the Pythagoreans upon +Plato was harmful. +</p> +<p> +It results from this whole theory of Ideas that there are two sources +of human experience, sense-perception and reason. Sense-perception has +for its object the world of sense; reason has for its object the +Ideas. The world of sense has all the opposite characteristics to the +Ideas. The Ideas are absolute reality, absolute Being. Objects of +sense are absolute unreality, not-being, except in so far as the Ideas +are in them. Whatever reality they have they owe to the Ideas. There +is in Plato's system a principle of absolute not-being which we shall +consider when we come to deal with his Physics. Objects of sense +participate both in the Ideas and in this not-being. They are, +therefore, half way between Being and not-being. They are half real. +Ideas, again, are universal; things of sense are always particular and +individual. The Idea is one, the sense-object is always <a name="192">{192}</a> a +multiplicity. Ideas are outside space and time, things of sense are +both temporal and spatial. The Idea is eternal and immutable; +sense-objects are changeable and in perpetual flux. +</p> +<p> +As regards the last point, Plato adopts the view of Heracleitus that +there is an absolute Becoming, and he identifies it with the world of +sense, which contains nothing stable and permanent, but is a constant +flow. The Idea always is, and never becomes; the thing of sense always +becomes, and never is. It is for this reason that, in the opinion of +Plato, no knowledge of the world of sense is possible, for one can +have no knowledge of that which changes from moment to moment. +Knowledge is only possible if its subject stands fixed before the +mind, is permanent and changeless. The only knowledge, then, is +knowledge of the Ideas. +</p> +<p> +This may seem, at first sight, a very singular doctrine. That there +can be no knowledge of sense-objects would, it might seem to us +moderns, involve the denial that modern physical science, with all its +exactitude and accumulated knowledge, is knowledge at all. And surely, +though all earthly things arise and pass away, many of them last long +enough to admit of knowledge. Surely the mountains are sufficiently +permanent to allow us to know something of them. They have relative, +though not absolute, permanence. This criticism is partly justified. +Plato did underestimate the value of physical knowledge. But for the +most part, the criticism is a misunderstanding. By the world of sense +Plato means bare sensation with no rational element in it. Now +physical science has not such crude sensation for its object. Its +objects are rationalized sensations. <a name="193">{193}</a> If, in Plato's manner, we +think only of pure sensation, then it is true that it is nothing but a +constant flux without stability; and knowledge of it is impossible. +The mountains are comparatively permanent. But our sensation of the +mountains is perpetually changing. Every change of light, every cloud +that passes over the sun, changes the colours and the shades. Every +time we move from one situation to another, the mountain appears a +different shape. The permanence of the mountain itself is due to the +fact that all these varying sensations are identified as sensations of +one and the same object. The idea of identity is involved here, and it +is, as it were, a thread upon which these fleeting sensations are +strung. But the idea of identity cannot be obtained from the senses. +It is introduced into things by reason. Hence knowledge of this +permanent mountain is only possible through the exercise of reason. In +Plato's language, all we can know of the mountain is the Ideas in +which it participates. To revert to a previous example, even the +knowledge "this paper is white" involves the activity of intellect, +and is impossible through sensation alone. Bare sensation is a flow, +of which no knowledge is possible. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle observes that Plato's theory of Ideas has three sources, the +teachings of the Eleatics, of Heracleitus, and of Socrates. From +Heracleitus, Plato took the notion of a sphere of Becoming, and it +appears in his system as the world of sense. From the Eleatics he took +the idea of a sphere of absolute Being. From Socrates he took the +doctrine of concepts, and proceeded to identify the Eleatic Being with +the Socratic concepts. This gives him his theory of Ideas. +</p> +<p> +<a name="194">{194}</a> +</p> +<p> +Sense objects, so far as they are knowable, that is so far as they are +more than bare sensations, are so only because the Idea resides in +them. And this yields the clue to Plato's teaching regarding the +relation of sense objects to the Ideas. The Ideas are, in the first +place the cause, that is to say, the ground (not the mechanical cause) +of sense-objects. The Ideas are the absolute reality by which +individual things must be explained. The being of things flows into +them from the Ideas. They are "copies," "imitations," of the Ideas. In +so far as they resemble the Idea, they are real; in so far as they +differ from it, they are unreal. In general, sense objects are, in +Plato's opinion, only very dim, poor and imperfect copies of the +Ideas. They are mere shadows, and half-realities. Another expression +frequently used by Plato to express this relationship is that of +"participation." Things participate in the Ideas. White objects +participate in the one whiteness, beautiful objects, in the one +beauty. In this way beauty itself is the cause or explanation of +beautiful objects, and so of all other Ideas. The Ideas are thus both +transcendent and immanent; immanent in so far as they reside in the +things of sense, transcendent inasmuch as they have a reality of their +own apart from the objects of sense which participate in them. The +Idea of man would still be real even if all men were destroyed, and it +was real before any man existed, if there ever was such a time. For +the Ideas, being timeless, cannot be real now and not then. +</p> +<p> +Of what kinds of things are there Ideas? That there are moral Ideas, +such as Justice, Goodness, and Beauty, Ideas of corporeal things, such +as horse, man, tree, star, river, and Ideas of qualities, such as +whiteness, heaviness, <a name="195">{195}</a> sweetness, we have already seen. But there +are Ideas not only of natural corporeal objects, but likewise of +manufactured articles; there are Ideas of beds, tables, clothes. And +there are Ideas not only of exalted moral entities, such as Beauty and +Justice. There are also the Ideal Ugliness, and the Ideal Injustice. +There are even Ideas of the positively nauseating, such as hair, +filth, and dirt. This is asserted in the "Parmenides." In that +dialogue Plato's teaching is put into the mouth of Parmenides. He +questions the young Socrates whether there are Ideas of hair, filth, +and dirt. Socrates denies that there can be Ideas of such base things. +But Parmenides corrects him, and tells him that, when he has attained +the highest philosophy, he will no longer despise such things. +Moreover, these Ideas of base things are just as much perfection in +their kind as Beauty and Goodness are in theirs. In general, the +principle is that there must be an Idea wherever a concept can be +formed; that is, wherever there is a class of many things called by +one name. +</p> +<p> +We saw, in treating of the Eleatics, that for them the absolute Being +contained no not-being, and the absolute One no multiplicity. And it +was just because they denied all not-being and multiplicity of the +absolute reality that they were unable to explain the world of +existence, and were forced to deny it altogether. The same problem +arises for Plato. Is Being absolutely excludent of not-being? Is the +Absolute an abstract One, utterly exclusive of the many? Is his +philosophy a pure monism? Is it a pluralism? Or is it a combination of +the two? These questions are discussed in the "Sophist" and the +"Parmenides." +</p> +<p> +<a name="196">{196}</a> +</p> +<p> +Plato investigates the relations of the One and the many, Being and +not-being, quite in the abstract. He decides the principles involved, +and leaves it to the reader to apply them to the theory of Ideas. +Whether the Absolute is one or many, Being or not-being, can be +decided independently of any particular theory of the nature of the +Absolute, and therefore independently of Plato's own theory, which was +that the Absolute consists of Ideas. Plato does not accept the Eleatic +abstraction. The One cannot be simply one, for every unity must +necessarily be a multiplicity. The many and the One are correlative +ideas which involve each other. Neither is thinkable without the +other. A One which is not many is as absurd an abstraction as a whole +which has no parts. For the One can only be defined as that which is +not many, and the many can only be defined as the not-one. The One is +unthinkable except as standing out against a background of the many. +The idea of the One therefore involves the idea of the many, and +cannot be thought without it. Moreover, an abstract One is unthinkable +and unknowable, because all thought and knowledge consist in applying +predicates to subjects, and all predication involves the duality of +its subject. +</p> +<p> +Consider the simplest affirmation that can be made about the One, +namely, "The One is." Here we have two things, "the One," and "is," +that is to say, being. The proposition means that the One is Being. +Hence the One is two. Firstly, it is itself, "One." Secondly, it is +"Being," and the proposition affirms that these two things are one. +Similarly with any other predicate we apply to the One. Whatever we +say of it involves its duality. Thus we find that all systems of +thought which <a name="197">{197}</a> postulate an abstract unity as ultimate reality, +such as Eleaticism, Hinduism, and the system of Spinoza, attempt to +avoid the difficulty by saying nothing positive about the One. They +apply to it only negative predicates, which tell us not what it is, +but what it is not. Thus the Hindus speak of Brahman as form<i>less</i>, +<i>im</i>mutable, <i>im</i>perishable, <i>un</i>moved, +<i>un</i>created. But this, of course, is a +futile expedient. In the first place, even a negative predicate +involves the duality of the subject. And, in the second place, a +negative predicate is always, by implication, a positive one. You +cannot have a negative without a positive. To deny one thing is to +affirm its opposite. To deny motion of the One, by calling it the +unmoved, is to affirm rest of it. Thus a One which is not also a many +is unthinkable. Similarly, the idea of the many is inconceivable +without the idea of the One. For the many is many ones. Hence the One +and the many cannot be separated in the Eleatic manner. Every unity +must be a unity of the many. And every many is <i>ipso facto</i> a unity, +since we think the many in one idea, and, if we did not, we should not +even know that it is a many. The Absolute must therefore be neither an +abstract One, nor an abstract many. It must be a many in one. +</p> +<p> +Similarly, Being cannot totally exclude not-being. They are, just as +much as the One and the many, correlatives, which mutually involve +each other. The being of anything is the not-being of its opposite. +The being of light is the not-being of darkness. All being, therefore, +has not-being in it. +</p> +<p> +Let us apply these principles to the theory of Ideas. The absolute +reality, the world of Ideas, is many, since <a name="198">{198}</a> there are many +Ideas, but it is one, because the Ideas are not isolated units, but +members of a single organized system. There is, in fact, a hierarchy +of Ideas. Just as the one Idea presides over many individual things of +which it is the common element, so one higher Idea presides over many +lower Ideas, and is the common element in them. And over this higher +Idea, together with many others, a still higher Idea will rule. For +example, the Ideas of whiteness, redness, blueness, are all subsumed +under the one Idea of colour. The Ideas of sweetness and bitterness +come under the one Idea of taste. But the Ideas of colour and taste +themselves stand under the still higher Idea of quality. In this way, +the Ideas form, as it were, a pyramid, and to this pyramid there must +be an apex. There must be one highest Idea, which is supreme over all +the others. This Idea will be the one final and absolutely real Being +which is the ultimate ground, of itself, of the other Ideas, and of +the entire universe. This Idea is, Plato tells us, the Idea of the +Good. We have seen that the world of Ideas is many, and we now see +that it is one. For it is one single system culminating in one supreme +Idea, which is the highest expression of its unity. Moreover, each +separate Idea is, in the same way, a many in one. It is one in regard +to itself. That is to say, if we ignore its relations to other Ideas, +it is, in itself, single. But as it has also many relations to other +Ideas, it is, in this way, a multiplicity. +</p> +<p> +Every Idea is likewise a Being which contains not-being. For each Idea +combines with some Ideas and not with others. Thus the Idea of +corporeal body combines both with the Idea of rest and that of motion. +<a name="199">{199}</a> But the Ideas of rest and motion will not combine with each +other. The Idea of rest, therefore, is Being in regard to itself, +not-being in regard to the Idea of motion, for the being of rest is +the not-being of motion. All Ideas are Being in regard to themselves, +and not-being in regard to all those other Ideas with which they do +not combine. +</p> +<p> +In this way there arises a science of Ideas which is called dialectic. +This word is sometimes used as identical with the phrase, "theory of +Ideas." But it is also used, in a narrower sense, to mean the science +which has to do with the knowledge of which Ideas will combine and +which not. Dialectic is the correct joining and disjoining of Ideas. +It is the knowledge of the relations of all the Ideas to each other. +</p> +<p> +The attainment of this knowledge is, in Plato's opinion, the chief +problem of philosophy. To know all the Ideas, each in itself and in +its relations to other Ideas, is the supreme task. This involves two +steps. The first is the formation of concepts. Its object is to know +each Idea separately, and its procedure is by inductive reason to find +the common element in which the many individual objects participate. +The second step consists in the knowledge of the inter-relation of +Ideas, and involves the two processes of classification and division. +Classification and division both have for their object to arrange the +lower Ideas under the proper higher Ideas, but they do this in +opposite ways. One may begin with the lower Ideas, such as redness, +whiteness, etc., and range them under their higher Idea, that of +colour. This is classification. Or one may begin with the higher Idea, +colour, and divide it into the lower Ideas, red, white, <a name="200">{200}</a> etc. +Classification proceeds from below upwards. Division proceeds from +above downwards. Most of the examples of division which Plato gives +are divisions by dichotomy. We may either divide colour straight away +into red, blue, white, etc.; or we may divide each class into two +sub-classes. Thus colour will be divided into red and not-red, not-red +into white and not-white, not-white into blue and not-blue, and so on. +This latter process is division by dichotomy, and Plato prefers it +because, though it is tedious, it is very exhaustive and systematic. +</p> +<p> +Plato's actual performance of the supreme task of dialectic, the +classification and arrangement of all Ideas, is not great. He has made +no attempt to complete it. All he has done is to give us numerous +examples. And this is, in reality, all that can be expected, for the +number of Ideas is obviously infinite, and therefore the task of +arranging them cannot be completed. There is, however, one important +defect in the dialectic, which Plato ought certainly to have remedied. +The supreme Idea, he tells us, is the Good. This, as being the +ultimate reality, is the ground of all other Ideas. Plato ought +therefore to have derived all other Ideas from it, but this he has not +done. He merely asserts, in a more or less dogmatic way, that the Idea +of the Good is the highest, but does nothing to connect it with the +other Ideas. It is easy to see, however, why he made this assertion. +It is, in fact, a necessary logical outcome of his system. For every +Idea is perfection in its kind. All the Ideas have perfection in +common. And just as the one beauty is the Idea which presides over all +beautiful things, so the one perfection must be the supreme Idea which +presides <a name="201">{201}</a> over all the perfect Ideas. The supreme Idea, +therefore, must be perfection itself, that is to say, the Idea of the +Good. On the other hand it might, with equal force, be argued that +since all the Ideas are substances, therefore the highest Idea is the +Idea of substance. All that can be said is that Plato has left these +matters in obscurity, and has merely asserted that the highest Idea is +the Good. +</p> +<p> +Consideration of the Idea of the Good leads us naturally to enquire +how far Plato's system is teleological in character. A little +consideration will show that it is out and out teleological. We can +see this both by studying the many lower Ideas, and the one supreme +Idea. Each Idea is perfection of its kind. And each Idea is the ground +of the existence of the individual objects which come under it. Thus +the explanation of white objects is the perfect whiteness, of +beautiful objects the perfect beauty. Or we may take as our example +the Idea of the State which Plato describes in the "Republic." The +ordinary view is that Plato was describing a State which was the +invention of his own fancy, and is therefore to be regarded as +entirely unreal. This is completely to misunderstand Plato. So far was +he from thinking the ideal State unreal, that he regarded it, on the +contrary, as the only real State. All existent States, such as the +Athenian or the Spartan, are unreal in so far as they differ from the +ideal State. And moreover, this one reality, the ideal State, is the +ground of the existence of all actual States. They owe their existence +to its reality. Their existence can only be explained by it. Now since +the ideal State is not yet reached in fact, but is the perfect State +towards which all actual States tend, it is clear that we have here +<a name="202">{202}</a> a teleological principle. The real explanation of the State is +not to be found in its beginnings in history, in an original contract, +or in biological necessities, but in its end, the final or perfect +State. Or, if we prefer to put it so; the true beginning is the end. +The end must be in the beginning, potentially and ideally, otherwise +it could never begin: It is the same with all other things. Man is +explained by the ideal man, the perfect man; white things by the +perfect whiteness, and so on. Everything is explained by its end, and +not by its beginning. Things are not explained by mechanical causes, +but by reasons. +</p> +<p> +And the teleology of Plato culminates in the Idea of the Good. That +Idea is the final explanation of all other Ideas, and of the entire +universe. And to place the final ground of all things in perfection +itself means that the universe arises out of that perfect end towards +which all things move. +</p> +<p> +Another matter which requires elucidation here is the place which the +conception of God holds in Plato's system. He frequently uses the word +God both in the singular and the plural, and seems to slip with +remarkable ease from the monotheistic to the polytheistic manner of +speaking. In addition to the many gods, we have frequent reference to +the one supreme Creator, controller, and ruler of the world, who is +further conceived as a Being providentially watching over the lives of +men. But in what relation does this supreme God stand to the Ideas, +and especially to the Idea of the Good? If God is separate from the +highest Idea, then, as Zeller points out, [Footnote 13] only three +relations are possible, all of which are <a name="203">{203}</a> equally objectionable. +Firstly, God may be the cause or ground of the Idea of the Good. But +this destroys the substantiality of the Idea, and indeed, destroys +Plato's whole system. The very essence of his philosophy is that the +Idea is the ultimate reality, which is self-existent, and owes its +being to nothing else. But this theory makes it a mere creature of +God, dependent on Him for its existence. Secondly, God may owe His +being to the Idea. The Idea may be the ground of God's existence as it +is the ground of all else in the universe. But this theory does +violence to the idea of God, turning Him into a mere derivative +existence, and, in fact, into an appearance. Thirdly, God and the Idea +may be co-ordinate in the system as equally primordial independent +ultimate realities. But this means that Plato has given two mutually +inconsistent accounts of the ultimate reality, or, if not, that his +system is a hopeless dualism. As none of these theories can be +maintained, it must be supposed that God is identical with the Idea of +the Good, and we find certain expressions in the "Philebus" which seem +clearly to assert this. But in that case God is not a personal God at +all, since the Idea is not a person. The word God, if used in this +way, is merely a figurative term for the Idea. And this is the most +probable theory, if we reflect that there is in fact no room for a +personal God in a system which places all reality in the Idea, and +that to introduce such a conception threatens to break up the whole +system. Plato probably found it useful to take the popular conceptions +about the personality of God or the gods and use them, in mythical +fashion, to express his Ideas. Those parts of Plato which speak of +God, and the governance of God, <a name="204">{204}</a> are to be interpreted on the +same principles as the other Platonic myths. +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 13: <i>Plato and the Older Academy</i>, chap. vi.] +</p> +<p> +Before closing our discussion of dialectic, it may be well to consider +what place it occupies in the life of man, and what importance is +attached to it. Here Plato's answer is emphatic. Dialectic is the +crown of knowledge, and knowledge is the crown of life. All other +spiritual activities have value only in so far as they lead up to the +knowledge of the Idea. All other subjects of intellectual study are +merely preparatory to the study of philosophy. The special sciences +have no value in themselves, but they have value inasmuch as their +definitions and classifications form a preparation for the knowledge +of Ideas. Mathematics is important because it is a stepping-stone from +the world of sense to the Ideas. Its objects, namely, numbers and +geometrical figures, resemble the Ideas in so far as they are +immutable, and they resemble sense-objects in so far as they are in +space or time. In the educational curriculum of Plato, philosophy +comes last. Not everyone may study it. And none may study it till he +has been through all the preparatory stages of education, which form a +rigorous discipline of the mind before it finally enters upon +dialectic. Thus all knowledge ends in dialectic, and that life has not +attained its end which falls short of philosophy. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps the most striking illustration of the subordination of all +spiritual activities to philosophy is to be found in the doctrine of +Eros, or Love. The phrase "platonic love" is on the lips of many, but, +as a rule, something very different from Plato's own doctrine is +meant. According to him, love is always concerned with beauty, and his +teaching on the subject is expounded <a name="205">{205}</a> chiefly in the "Symposium," +He believed that before birth the soul dwelt disembodied in the pure +contemplation of the world of Ideas. Sinking down into a body, +becoming immersed in the world of sense, it forgets the Ideas. The +sight of a beautiful object reminds it of that one Idea of beauty of +which the object is a copy. This accounts for the mystic rapture, the +emotion, the joy, with which we greet the sight of the beautiful. +Since Plato had expressly declared that there are Ideas of the ugly as +well as of the beautiful, that there are Ideas, for example, of hair, +filth, and dirt, and since these Ideas are just as divine and perfect +as the Idea of the beautiful, we ought, on this theory, to greet the +ugly, the filthy, and the nauseating, with a ravishment of joy similar +to that which we experience in the presence of beauty. Why this is not +the case Plato omitted to explain. However, having learned to love the +one beautiful object, the soul passes on to the love of others. Then +it perceives that it is the same beauty which reveals itself in all +these. It passes from the love of beautiful forms to the love of +beautiful souls, and from that to the love of beautiful sciences. It +ceases to be attached to the many objects, as such, that is to say, to +the sensuous envelopes of the Idea of beauty. Love passes into the +knowledge of the Idea of beauty itself, and from this to the knowledge +of the world of Ideas in general. It passes in fact into philosophy. +</p> +<p> +In this development there are two points which we cannot fail to note. +In the first place, emotional love is explained as being simply the +blind groping of reason towards the Idea. It is reason which has not +yet recognized itself as such. It appears, therefore, in the <a name="206">{206}</a> +guise of feeling. Secondly, the later progress of the soul's love is +simply the gradual recognition of itself by reason. When the soul +perceives that the beauty in all objects is the same, that it is the +common element amid the many, this is nothing but the process of +inductive reasoning. And this development ends at last in the complete +rational cognition of the world of Ideas, in a word, philosophy. Love +is but an instinctive reason. The animal has no feeling of the +beautiful, just because it has no reason. Love of the beautiful is +founded upon the nature of man, not as a percipient or feeling being, +but as a rational being. And it must end in the complete recognition +of reason by itself, not in the feeling and intuition, but in the +rational comprehension, of the Idea. +</p> +<p> +One can imagine what Plato's answer would be to the sort of vulgarians +and philistines who want to know what the use of philosophy is, and in +what way it is "practical." To answer such a question is for Plato +impossible, because the question itself is illegitimate. For a thing +to have a use involves that it is a means towards an end. Fire has +use, because it may be made a means towards the cooking of food. Money +is useful, because it is a means to the acquisition of goods. That +which is an end in itself, and not a means towards any further end, +cannot possibly have any use. To suggest that philosophy ought to have +use is, therefore, to put the cart before the horse, to invert the +whole scale of values. It suggests that philosophy is a means towards +some further end, instead of being the absolute end to which all other +things are means. Philosophy is not <i>for</i> anything. Everything else is +<i>for</i> it. And, if this seems an exaggerated or unpractical view, we may +at least <a name="207">{207}</a> remember that this is the view taken by the religious +consciousness of man. Religion makes the supreme end of life the +knowledge of, and communion with, God. God is for religion what the +Idea is for philosophy. God is a figurative name for the Idea. To +place the end of life in the knowledge of the Absolute, or the Idea, +is therefore the teaching both of philosophy and religion. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +4. Physics, or the Theory of Existence. +</p> +<p> +Dialectic is the theory of reality, physics the theory of existence, +dialectic of that which lies behind things as their ground, physics of +the things which are thus grounded. That is to say, physics is +concerned with phenomena and appearances, things which exist in space +and time, as opposed to the timeless and non-spatial Ideas. Things of +this kind are both corporeal and incorporeal. Physics falls therefore +into two parts, the doctrine of the outward corporeality, the world, +with its incorporeal essence, the World-Soul, and the doctrine of the +incorporeal soul of man. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +<i>(a) The Doctrine of the World</i>. +</p> +<p> +If, in the dialectic, Plato has given an account of the nature of the +first principle and ground of all things, the problem now arises of +explaining how the actual universe of things arises out of that +ground, how it is derived from the first principle. In other words, +the Ideas being the absolute reality, how does the world of sense, +and, in general, the existent universe, arise out of the Ideas? Faced +with this problem, the system of Plato broke down. The things of sense +are, we are told, "copies" or "imitations" of the Ideas. <a name="208">{208}</a> They +"participate" in the Ideas. So far, so good. But why should there be +any copies of the Ideas? Why should the Ideas give rise to copies of +themselves, and how is the production of these copies effected? To +these questions Plato has no answer, and he therefore has recourse to +the use of myths. Poetic description here takes the place of +scientific explanation. +</p> +<p> +This poetic description of the origin of the world is to be found in +the "Timaeus." We have seen that the Ideas are absolute Being, and +that things of sense are half real and half unreal. They are partly +real because they participate in Being. They are partly unreal because +they participate in not-being. There must be, therefore, a principle +of absolute not-being. This, in Plato's opinion, is matter. Things of +sense are copies of the Ideas fashioned out of, or stamped upon, +matter. But Plato does not understand by matter what we, in modern +times, understand by it. Matter, in our sense, is always some +particular kind of matter. It is brass, or wood, or iron, or stone. It +is matter which has determinate character and quality. But the +possession of specific character means that it is matter with the copy +of Ideas already stamped upon it. Since iron exists in great +quantities in the world, and there is a common element in all the +various pieces of iron, by virtue of which all are classed together, +there must be a concept of iron. There is, therefore, an Idea of iron +in the world of Ideas. And the iron which we find in the earth must be +matter which is already formed into a copy of this Idea. It +participates in the Idea of iron. The same remarks apply to any other +particular kind of matter. In fact, all form, all the specific +characters and <a name="209">{209}</a> features of matter, as we know it, are due to the +operation of the Ideas. Hence matter as it is in itself, before the +image of the Ideas is stamped upon it, must be absolutely without +quality, featureless, formless. But to be absolutely without any +quality is to be simply nothing at all. This matter is, therefore, as +Plato says, absolute not-being. Zeller conjectures, probably rightly, +that what Plato meant was simply empty space. [Footnote 14] Empty +space is an existent not-being, and it is totally indeterminate and +formless. It accords with this view that Plato adopted the Pythagorean +tenet that the differential qualities of material substances are due +to their smallest particles being regular geometrical figures limited +out of the unlimited, that is, out of space. Thus earth is composed of +cubes. That is to say, empty space when bound into cubes (the limiting +of the unlimited) becomes earth. The smallest particles of fire are +<i>tetrahedra</i>, of air <i>octahedra</i>, of water <i>icosahedra</i>. +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 14: <i>Plato and the Older Academy</i>, chap. vii. ] +</p> +<p> +We have, then, on the one hand, the world of Ideas, on the other, +matter, an absolutely formless, chaotic, mass. By impressing the +images of the Ideas upon this mass, "things" arise, that is to say, +the specific objects of sense. They thus participate both in Being and +in not-being. But how is this mixing of Being and not-being brought +about? How do the Ideas come to have their images stamped upon matter? +It is at this point that we enter upon the region of myth. Up to this +point Plato is certainly to be taken literally. He of course believed +in the reality of the world of Ideas, and he no doubt also believed in +his principle of matter. And he thought that the objects of sense are +to be <a name="210">{210}</a> explained as copies of the Ideas impressed upon matter. +But now, with the problem how this copying is brought about, Plato +leaves the method of scientific explanation behind. If the Ideas are +the absolute ground of all things, then the copying process must be +done by the Ideas themselves. They must themselves be made the +principles for the production of things. But this is, for Plato, +impossible. For production involves change. If the Ideas produce +things out of themselves, the Ideas must in the process undergo +change. But Plato has declared them to be absolutely unchangeable, and +to be thus immutable is to be sterile. Hence the Ideas have within +themselves no principle for the production of things, and the +scientific explanation of things by this means becomes impossible. +Hence there is nothing for it but to have recourse to myth. Plato can +only imagine that things are produced by a world-former, or designer, +who, like a human artist, fashions the plastic matter into images of +the Ideas. +</p> +<p> +God, the Creator, the world-designer, finds beside him, on the one +hand, the Ideas, on the other, formless matter. First, he creates the +World-Soul. This is incorporeal, but occupies space. He spreads it out +like a huge net in empty space. He bisects it, and bends the two +halves into an inner and an outer circle, these circles being destined +to become the spheres of the planets and the stars respectively. He +takes matter and binds it into the four elements, and these elements +he builds into the empty framework of the World-Soul. When this is +done, the creation of the universe is complete. The rest of the +"Timaeus" is occupied with the details of Plato's ideas of astronomy +and physical <a name="211">{211}</a> science. These are mostly worthless and tedious, +and we need not pursue them here. But we may mention that Plato, of +course, regarded the earth as the centre of the world. The stars, +which are divine beings, revolve around it. They necessarily move in +circles, because the circle is the perfect figure. The stars, being +divine, are governed solely by reason, and their movement must +therefore be circular, because a circular motion is the motion of +reason. +</p> +<p> +The above account of the origin of the world is merely myth, and Plato +knows that it is myth. What he apparently did believe in, however, was +the existence of the World-Soul, and a few words upon this subject are +necessary. The soul, in Plato's system, is the mediator between the +world of Ideas and the world of sense. Like the former, it is +incorporeal and immortal. Like the latter, it occupies space. Plato +thought that there must be a soul in the world to account for the +rational behaviour of things, and to explain motion. The reason which +governs and directs the world dwells in the World-Soul. And the +World-Soul is the cause of motion in the outer universe, just as the +human soul is the cause of the motions of the human body. The cosmos +is a living being. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +<i>(b) The Doctrine of the Human Soul.</i> +</p> +<p> +The human soul is similar in kind to the World-Soul. It is the cause +of the body's movements, and in it the human reason dwells. It has +affinities both with the world of Ideas and the world of sense. It is +divided into two parts, of which one part is again subdivided into +two. The highest part is reason, which is <a name="212">{212}</a> that part of the soul +which apprehends the Ideas. It is simple and indivisible. Now all +destruction of things means the sundering of their parts. But the +rational part of the soul, being simple, has no parts. Therefore it is +indestructible and immortal. The irrational part of the soul is +mortal, and is subdivided into a noble and an ignoble half. To the +noble half belong courage, love of honour, and in general the nobler +emotions. To the ignoble portion belong the sensuous appetites. The +noble half has a certain affinity with reason, in that it has an +instinct for what is noble and great. Nevertheless, this is mere +instinct, and is not rational. The seat of reason is the head, of the +noble half of the lower soul, the breast, of the ignoble half, the +lower part of the body. Man alone possesses the three parts of the +soul. Animals possess the two lower parts, plants only the appetitive +soul. What distinguishes man from the lower orders of creation is thus +that he alone possesses reason. +</p> +<p> +Plato connects the doctrine of the immortality of the rational soul +with the theory of Ideas by means of the doctrines of recollection and +transmigration. According to the former doctrine, all knowledge is +recollection of what was experienced by the soul in its disembodied +state before birth. It must carefully be noted, however, that the word +knowledge is here used in the special and restricted sense of Plato. +Not everything that we should call knowledge is recollection. The +sensuous element in my perception that this paper is white is not +recollection, since, as being merely sensuous, it is not, in Plato's +opinion, to be called knowledge. Here, as elsewhere, he confines the +term <a name="213">{213}</a> to rational knowledge, that is to say, knowledge of the +Ideas, though it is doubtful whether he is wholly consistent with +himself in the matter, especially in regard to mathematical knowledge. +It must also be noted that this doctrine has nothing in common with +the Oriental doctrine of the memory of our past lives upon the earth. +An example of this is found in the Buddhist Jàtakas, where the Buddha +relates from memory many things that happened to him in the body in +his previous births. Plato's doctrine is quite different. It refers +only to recollection of the experiences of the soul in its disembodied +state in the world of Ideas. +</p> +<p> +The reasons assigned by Plato for believing in this doctrine may be +reduced to two. Firstly, knowledge of the Ideas cannot be derived from +the senses, because the Idea is never pure in its sensuous +manifestation, but always mixed. The one beauty, for example, is only +found in experience mixed with the ugly. The second reason is more +striking. And, if the doctrine of recollection is itself fantastic, +this, the chief reason upon which Plato bases it, is interesting and +important. He pointed out that mathematical knowledge seems to be +innate in the mind. It is neither imparted to us by instruction, nor +is it gained from experience. Plato, in fact, came within an ace of +discovering what, in modern times, is called the distinction between +necessary and contingent knowledge, a distinction which was made by +Kant the basis of most far-reaching developments in philosophy. The +character of necessity attaches to rational knowledge, but not to +sensuous. To explain this distinction, we may take as our example of +rational knowledge such a proposition as that two <a name="214">{214}</a> and two make +four. This does not mean merely that, as a matter of fact, every two +objects and every other two objects, with which we have tried the +experiment, make four. It is not merely a fact, it is a necessity. It +is not merely that two and two do make four, but that they must make +four. It is inconceivable that they should not. We have not got to go +and see whether, in each new case, they do so. We know beforehand that +they will, because they must. It is quite otherwise with such a +proposition as, "gold is yellow." There is no necessity about it. It +is merely a fact. For all anybody can see to the contrary it might +just as well be blue. There is nothing inconceivable about its being +blue, as there is about two and two making five. Of course, that gold +is yellow is no doubt a mechanical necessity, that is, it is +determined by causes, and in that sense could not be otherwise. But it +is not a logical necessity. It is not a logical contradiction to +imagine blue gold, as it would be to imagine two and two making five. +Any other proposition in mathematics possesses the same necessity. +That the angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal is a +necessary proposition. It could not be otherwise without +contradiction. Its opposite is unthinkable. But that Socrates is +standing is not a necessary truth. He might just as well be sitting. +</p> +<p> +Since a mathematical proposition is necessarily true, its truth is +known without verification by experience. Having proved the +proposition about the isosceles triangle, we do not go about measuring +the angles of triangular objects to make sure there is no exception. +We know it without any experience at all. And if we <a name="215">{215}</a> were +sufficiently clever, we might even evolve mathematical knowledge out +of the resources of our own minds, without its being told us by any +teacher. That Caesar was stabbed by Brutus is a fact which no amount +of cleverness could ever reveal to me. This information I can only get +by being told it. But that the base angles of an isosceles triangle +are equal I could discover by merely thinking about it. The +proposition about Brutus is not a necessary proposition. It might be +otherwise. And therefore I must be told whether it is true or not. But +the proposition about the isosceles triangle is necessary, and +therefore I can see that it must be true without being told. +</p> +<p> +Now Plato did not clearly make this distinction between necessary and +non-necessary knowledge. But what he did perceive was that +mathematical knowledge can be known without either experience or +instruction. Kant afterwards gave a less fantastic explanation of +these facts. But Plato concluded that such knowledge must be already +present in the mind at birth. It must be recollected from a previous +existence. It might be answered that, though this kind of knowledge is +not gained from the experience of the senses, it may be gained from +teaching. It may be imparted by another mind. We have to teach +children mathematics, which we should not have to do if it were +already in their minds. But Plato's answer is that when the teacher +explains a geometrical theorem to the child, directly the child +understands what is meant, he assents. He sees it for himself. But if +the teacher explains that Lisbon is on the Tagus, the child cannot see +that this is true for himself. He must either believe the word <a name="216">{216}</a> +of the teacher, or he must go and see. In this case, therefore, the +knowledge is really imparted from one mind to another. The teacher +transfers to the child knowledge which the child does not possess. But +the mathematical theorem is already present in the child's mind, and +the process of teaching merely consists in making him see what he +already potentially knows. He has only to look into his own mind to +find it. This is what we mean by saying that the child sees it for +himself. +</p> +<p> +In the "Meno" Plato attempts to give an experimental proof of the +doctrine of recollection. Socrates is represented as talking to a +slave-boy, who admittedly has no education in mathematics, and barely +knows what a square is. By dint of skilful questioning Socrates +elicits from the boy's mind a theorem about the properties of the +square. The point of the argument is that Socrates tells him nothing +at all. He imparts no information. He only asks questions. The boy's +knowledge of the theorem, therefore, is not due to the teaching of +Socrates, nor is it due to experience. It can only be recollection. +But if knowledge is recollection, it may be asked, why is it that we +do not remember at once? Why is the tedious process of education in +mathematics necessary? Because the soul, descending from the world of +Ideas into the body, has its knowledge dulled and almost blotted out +by its immersion in the sensuous. It has forgotten, or it has only the +dimmest and faintest recollection. It has to be reminded, and it takes +a great effort to bring the half-lost ideas back to the mind. This +process of being reminded is education. +</p> +<p> +With this, of course, is connected the doctrine of <a name="217">{217}</a> +transmigration, which Plato took, no doubt, from the Pythagoreans. +Most of the details of Plato's doctrine of transmigration are mere +myth. Plato does not mean them seriously, as is shown by the fact that +he gives quite different and inconsistent accounts of these details in +different dialogues. What, in all probability, he did believe, +however, may be summarized as follows. The soul is pre-existent as +well as immortal. Its natural home is the world of Ideas, where at +first it existed, without a body, in the pure and blissful +contemplation of Ideas. But because it has affinities with the world +of sense, it sinks down into a body. After death, if a man has lived a +good life, and especially if he has cultivated the knowledge of Ideas, +philosophy, the soul returns to its blissful abode in the world of +Ideas, till, after a long period it again returns to earth in a body. +Those who do evil suffer after death severe penalties, and are then +reincarnated in the body of some being lower than themselves. A man +may become a woman. Men may even, if their lives have been utterly +sensual, pass into the bodies of animals. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +5. Ethics +</p> +<p align=center> +<i>(a) The Ethics of the Individual</i> +<p> +Just as Plato's theory of knowledge begins with a negative portion, +designed to refute false theories of what truth is, so does his theory +of morals begin with a negative portion, intended to refute false +theories of what virtue is. These two negative departments of Plato's +philosophy correspond in every way. As he was then engaged in showing +that knowledge is not perception, as Protagoras thought, so he now +urges that <a name="218">{218}</a> virtue is not the same as pleasure. And as knowledge +is not mere right opinion, neither is virtue mere right action. The +propositions that knowledge is perception, and that virtue is +pleasure, are indeed only the same principle applied to different +spheres of thought. For the Sophists whatever appeared true to the +individual was true for that individual. This is the same as saying +that knowledge is perception. For the Sophists, again, whatever +appeared right to the individual was right for that individual. This +is the same as saying that it is right for each man to do whatever he +pleases. Virtue is defined as the pleasure of the individual. This +consequence of the Sophistic principles was drawn both by many of the +Sophists themselves, and later by the Cyrenaics. +</p> +<p> +As these two propositions are thus in fact only one principle, what +Plato has said in refutation of the former provides also his +refutation of the latter. The theory that virtue is pleasure has the +same destructive influence upon morals as the theory that knowledge is +perception had upon truth. We may thus shortly summarize Plato's +arguments. +</p> +<p> +(1) As the Sophistic theory of truth destroys the objectivity of +truth, so the doctrine that virtue is the pleasure of the individual +destroys the objectivity of the good. Nothing is good in itself. +Things are only good for me or for you. There results an absolute +moral relativity, in which the idea of an objective standard of +goodness totally disappears. +</p> +<p> +(2) This theory destroys the distinction between good and evil. Since +the good is whatever the individual pleases, and since the pleasure of +one individual is the <a name="219">{219}</a> displeasure of another, the same thing is +both good and evil at the same time, good for one person and evil for +another. Good and evil are therefore not distinct. They are the same. +</p> +<p> +(3) Pleasure is the satisfaction of our desires. Desires are merely +feelings. This theory, therefore, founds morality upon feeling. But an +objective morality cannot be founded upon what is peculiar to +individuals. If the moral code is to be a law binding upon all men, it +can only be founded upon that which is common to all men, the +universal reason. +</p> +<p> +(4) The end of moral activity must fall within, and not outside, the +moral act itself. Morality must have an intrinsic, not a merely +extrinsic, value. We must not do right for the sake of something else. +We must do right because it is right, and thus make virtue an end in +itself. But the Sophistic theory places the end of morality outside +morality. We are to do right, not for its own sake, but for the sake +of pleasure. Morality is thus not an end in itself, but merely a means +towards a further end. +</p> +<p> +Virtue, therefore, is not pleasure, any more than knowledge is +perception. Likewise, just as knowledge is not right opinion, so +virtue is not right action. Right opinion may be held upon wrong +grounds, and right action may be performed on wrong grounds. For true +virtue we must not only know what is right, but why it is right. True +virtue is thus right action proceeding from a rational comprehension +of true values. Hence there arises in Plato's philosophy a distinction +between philosophic virtue and customary virtue. Philosophic virtue is +founded upon reason, and understands the <a name="220">{220}</a> principle on which it +acts. It is, in fact, action governed by principles. Customary virtue +is right action proceeding from any other grounds, such as custom, +habit, tradition, good impulses, benevolent feelings, instinctive +goodness. Men do right merely because other people do it, because it +is customary, and they do it without understanding the reasons for it. +This is the virtue of the ordinary honest citizen, the "respectable" +person. It is the virtue of bees and ants, who act as if rationally, +but without any understanding of what they are doing. And Plato +observes--no doubt with an intentional spice of humour--that such +people may in the next life find themselves born as bees and ants. +Plato denies philosophic virtue not only to the masses of men, but +even to the best statesmen and politicians of Greece. +</p> +<p> +As true virtue is virtue which knows at what it is aiming, the +knowledge of the nature of the highest aim becomes the chief question +of ethics. What is the end of moral activity? Now we have just seen +that that end must fall within, and not outside, the moral act. The +end of goodness is the good. What, then, is the good? What is the +supreme good, the <i>summum bonum</i>? +</p> +<p> +A note of warning is necessary before we enter upon the details of +this problem. Plato frequently speaks of all moral activity aiming at, +and ending in, happiness. With modern phrases ringing in our ears, we +might easily suppose this to mean that Plato is a utilitarian. The +utilitarianism of Bentham and Mill is distinguished by the fact that +it places the end of morality in happiness. Yet Plato was not a +utilitarian, and would unhesitatingly have condemned the theory of +Mill. He <a name="221">{221}</a> would have found it identical in principle with the +Sophistic doctrine that pleasure is the end of virtue. The only +difference is that, whereas the Sophists identified virtue with the +pleasure of the individual, Mill makes it the pleasure of the +community. That act is right which leads to "the greatest happiness of +the greatest number." In practice, of course, this makes a tremendous +difference. But the principle is equally objectionable because, like +the Sophistic theory, it founds morality upon mere feeling, instead of +upon reason, and because it places the end of morality outside +morality itself. Yet the formula of Mill, that the end of morals is +happiness, seems the same as Plato's formula. What is the difference? +</p> +<p> +The fact is that what Mill calls happiness Plato would have called +pleasure. Pleasure is the satisfaction of one's desires, whether they +are noble or ignoble. Then what is happiness? It can only be defined +as the general harmonious well-being of life. Only that man is happy +whose soul is in the state it ought to be in, only in fact the just, +the good, and the moral man. Happiness has nothing to do with +pleasure. If you could conceive an absolutely just and upright man, +who was yet weighed down with every possible misery and disaster, in +whose life pleasure had no part, such a man would still be absolutely +happy. Happiness is, therefore, in Plato, merely another name for the +<i>summum bonum</i>. In saying that the <i>summum bonum</i> is happiness, Plato +is not telling us anything about it. He is merely giving it a new +name. And we are still left to enquire: what is the <i>summum bonum</i>? +what is happiness? +</p> +<p> +Plato's answer, as indeed his whole ethics, is but <a name="222">{222}</a> an +application of the theory of Ideas. But here we can distinguish two +different and, to some extent, inconsistent strains of thought, which +exist side by side in Plato, and perpetually struggle for the mastery. +Both views depend upon the theory of Ideas. In the first place, the +Idea, in Plato's philosophy, is the sole reality. The object of sense +is unreal, and merely clogs and dims the soul's vision of the Ideas. +Matter is that which obstructs the free activity of the Idea. +Sense-objects hide the Idea from our view. Therefore the world of +sense is wholly evil. True virtue must consist in flying from the +world of sense, in retiring from the affairs of the world, and even +from the beauty of the senses, into the calm of philosophic +contemplation. And if this were all, philosophy, the knowledge of the +Ideas, would be the sole constituent of the <i>summum bonum</i>. But it is +possible to regard sense-objects in another light. They are, after +all, copies of the Ideas. They are therefore a manifestation and +revelation of the ideal world. Hence Plato is compelled by this +thought to allow a certain value to the world of sense, its affairs, +and its beauty. +</p> +<p> +The result of this inconsistency is, at any rate, that Plato remains +broad and human. He does not, on the one hand, preach a purely selfish +retirement into philosophy, or a narrow ascetic ideal. He does not, on +the other hand, adopt a low utilitarian view of life, allowing value +only to that which is "practical." He remains true to the Greek ideal +of life as a harmonious play of all the faculties, in which no one +part of man is over-developed at the expense of the others. +</p> +<p> +The result is that Plato's <i>summum bonum</i> is not a single <a name="223">{223}</a> end. +It is a compound consisting of four parts. First, and chief of all, is +the knowledge of the Ideas as they are in themselves, philosophy. +Secondly, the contemplation of the Ideas as they reveal themselves in +the world of sense, the love and appreciation of all that is +beautiful, ordered, and harmonious. Thirdly, the cultivation of the +special sciences and arts. And fourthly, indulgence in pure, refined, +and innocent pleasures of the senses, excluding, of course, whatever +is base and evil. +</p> +<p> +Plato had also a specific doctrine of virtue. As already stated, he +distinguished between philosophic and customary virtue, and attached +absolute value only to the former. He does not, however, deny a +relative value to customary virtue, inasmuch as it is a means towards +true virtue. Plato saw that man cannot rise at one bound to the +pinnacles of rational virtue. He must needs pass through the +preparatory stage of customary virtue. In the man in whom reason is +not yet awakened, good habits and customs must be implanted, in order +that, when reason comes, it may find the ground ready prepared. +</p> +<p> +Socrates had taught that virtue is one. And Plato in his earlier +writings adopted this view. But later on he came to see that every +faculty of man has its place and its function, and the due performance +of its function is a virtue. He did not, however, surrender the unity +of virtue altogether, but believed that its unity is compatible with +its plurality. There are four cardinal virtues. Three of these +correspond to the three parts of the soul, and the fourth is the unity +of the others. The virtue of reason is wisdom, of the noble half of +<a name="224">{224}</a> the mortal soul courage, of the ignoble appetites, temperance or +self-control, in which the passions allow themselves to be governed by +reason. The fourth virtue, justice, arises from the others. Justice +means proportion and harmony, and accrues to the soul when all three +parts perform their functions and co-operate with each other. +</p> +<p> +Following Zeller, we may add to this account of the virtues some of +Plato's views upon the details of life. And first, his opinion of +women and marriage. Here Plato does not rise above the level of +ordinary Greek morals. He has nothing specially original to say, but +reflects the opinions of his age. Women he regards as essentially +inferior to men. Moreover, the modern view of woman as the complement +of man, as possessing those special virtues of womanliness, which a +man lacks, is quite alien to Plato. The difference between men and +women is, in his view, not one of kind but only of degree. The only +specific difference between the sexes is the physical difference. +Spiritually they are quite the same, except that woman is inferior. +Hence Plato would not exclude women from the same education which man +receives. He would educate them in exactly the same way, but this +involves the imposition upon them of the same burdens. Even military +duties are not outside the sphere of women. +</p> +<p> +His views of marriage flow from the same principle. Since woman is not +the complement of man, she is in no special sense fitted to be his +companion. Hence the ideal of spiritual companionship is absent from +Plato's view of marriage, the sole object of which, in his opinion, is +the propagation of children. The natural companion <a name="225">{225}</a> of a man is +not a woman, but another man. The ideal of friendship, therefore, +takes the place of the spiritual ideal of marriage in Plato and, +indeed, among the ancients generally. +</p> +<p> +Slavery is not denounced by Plato. He takes no trouble to justify it, +because he thinks it so obviously right that it needs no +justification. All that can be said to his credit is that he demands +humane and just, though firm and unsentimental, treatment of slaves. +</p> +<p> +If in these respects Plato never transcends the Greek view of life, in +one matter at least he does so. The common view of his time was that +one ought to do good to one's friends and evil to one's enemies. This +Plato expressly repudiates. It can never be good, he thinks, to do +evil. One should rather do good to one's enemies, and so convert them +into friends. To return good for evil is no less a Platonic than a +Christian maxim. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +<i>(b) The State</i>. +</p> +<br> +<p> +We pass from the ethics of individual life to the ethics of the +community. Plato's "Republic" is not an attempt to paint an imaginary +and unreal perfection. Its object is to found politics on the theory +of Ideas by depicting the Idea of the State. This State is, therefore, +not unreal, but the only real State, and its reality is the ground of +the existence of all actually existent States. +</p> +<p> +We can trace here, too, the same two strains of thought as we found in +considering the ethics of the individual. On the one hand, since the +Idea alone is real, the existent world a mere illusion, the service of +the <a name="226">{226}</a> State cannot be the ideal life for a rational being. +Complete retirement from the world into the sphere of Ideas is a far +nobler end, and the aims of the ordinary politician are, in +comparison, worthless baubles. Though only the philosopher is +competent to rule, yet he will not undertake the business of the +State, except under compulsion. In the political States, as they exist +in the world, the philosopher dwells with his body, but his soul is a +stranger, ignorant of their standards, unmoved by their ambitions. But +the opposite strain of thought is uppermost when we are told that it +is, after all, only in the State, only in his capacity as a citizen +and a social being that the individual can attain perfection. It is +only possible to reconcile these views in one way. If the ideals of +the State and of philosophy seem inconsistent, they must be brought +together by adapting the State to philosophy. We must have a State +founded upon philosophy and reason. Then only can the philosopher +dwell in it with his soul as well as with his body. Then only can +either the individual or the State reach perfection. To found the +State upon reason is the keynote of Plato's politics. +</p> +<p> +And this gives us, too, the clue to the problem, what is the end of +the State? Why should there be a State at all? This does not mean, how +has the State arisen in history? We are not in search of the cause, +but of the reason, or end, of the State. The end of all life is +wisdom, virtue, and knowledge. The unassisted individual cannot reach +these ends. It is only by the State that they can be brought down from +heaven to earth. The end of the State is thus the virtue and happiness +(not pleasure) of the citizens. And since this is only possible <a name="227">{227}</a> +through education, the State's primary function is educational. +</p> +<p> +Since the State is to be founded upon reason, its laws must be +rational, and rational laws can only be made by rational men, +philosophers. The rulers must be philosophers. And since the +philosophers are few, we must have an aristocracy, not of birth, or of +wealth, but of intellect. The first operative principle of the State +is reason, the second is force. For it is not to be expected that the +irrational masses will willingly submit to rational laws. They must be +compelled. And since the work of the world must go on, the third +operative principle will be labour. Plato believed in the principle of +division of labour. Only he can excel at any occupation whose life is +devoted to it. Hence to the three operative principles correspond +three classes, castes, or professions. Reason is embodied in the +philosopher-rulers, force in the warriors, labour in the masses. This +division of the functions of the State is based upon the threefold +division of the soul. To the rational soul correspond the +philosopher-rulers, to the nobler half of the mortal soul the +warriors, to the appetitive soul the masses. Consequently the four +cardinal virtues belong to the State through the functioning of the +three classes. The virtue of the philosopher-rulers is wisdom, of the +warriors courage, of the masses, temperance. The harmonious +co-operation of all three produces justice. +</p> +<p> +The rulers must not cease to be philosophers. Most of their time must +be spent in the study of the Ideas, philosophy, and only a portion in +the affairs of government. This is rendered possible by the system of +taking turns. Those who are not at any particular time <a name="228">{228}</a> engaged +upon government retire into thought. The duty of the warriors is the +protection of the State, both against its external enemies, and +against the irrational impulses of the masses of its own citizens. +Normally, the latter will be their chief duty, the enforcement of the +decrees of the philosopher-rulers upon the masses. The masses will +engage themselves in trade, commerce, and agriculture. Both the other +ranks are prohibited from soiling their fingers with trade or +agriculture, upon which Plato, as a Greek aristocrat, looked down with +unbounded contempt. To what rank a citizen belongs is not determined +by birth, nor by individual choice. No individual can choose his own +profession. This will be determined by the officers of the State, who +will base their decision, however, upon the disposition and +capabilities of the individual. As they have also to decide the +numbers required for each rank, the magistrates also control the birth +of children. Parents cannot have children when they wish. The sanction +of the State is required. +</p> +<p> +Since the end of the State is the virtue of the citizens, this +involves the destruction of whatever is evil and the encouragement of +whatever is good. To compass the destruction of evil, the children of +bad parents, or offspring not sanctioned by the State, will be +destroyed. Weak and sickly children will also not be allowed to live. +The positive encouragement of good involves the education of the +citizens by the State. Children from their earliest years do not +belong to their parents, but to the State. They are, therefore, at +once removed from the custody of their parents, and transferred to +State nurseries. Since the parents are to have no <a name="229">{229}</a> property nor +interest in them, stringent means are adopted to see that, after +removal to the public nurseries, parents shall never again be able to +recognize their own children. All the details of the educational +curriculum are decreed by the State. Poetry, for example, is only +allowed in an emasculated form. Of the three kinds, epic, dramatic, +and lyric, the two former are banished from the State altogether, +because, in the base example of the immorality of the gods, which they +depict, they are powerful instruments in the propagation of evil. Only +lyric poetry is allowed, and that under strict supervision. The +subject, the form, even the metre, will be prescribed by the proper +authorities. Poetry is not recognized as valuable in itself, but only +as an educative moral influence. All poems, therefore, must strictly +inculcate virtue. +</p> +<p> +It is, in Plato's opinion, intolerable that the individual should have +any interest apart from the interests of the State. Private interests +clash with those of the community, and must therefore be abolished. +The individual can possess no property either in material things, or +in the members of his family. This involves the community of goods, +community of wives, and the State ownership of children from their +birth. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +6. Views upon Art. +</p> +<p> +In modern times aesthetics is recognized as a separate division of +philosophy. This was not the case in Plato's time, and yet his +opinions upon art cannot be fitted into either dialectic, physics, or +ethics. On the other hand, they cannot be ignored, and there is +nothing for it, therefore, but to treat them as a sort of appendix +<a name="230">{230}</a> to his philosophy. Plato has no systematic theory of art, but +only scattered opinions, the most important of which will now be +mentioned. +</p> +<p> +Most modern theories of art are based upon the view that art is an end +in itself, that the beautiful has, as such, absolute value, and not +value merely as a means to some further end. Upon such a view, art is +recognized as autonomous within its own sphere, governed only by its +own laws, judged only by its own standards. It cannot be judged, as +Tolstoi would have us believe, by the standard of morals. The +beautiful is not a means to the good. They may be indeed, ultimately +identical, but their identity cannot be recognized till their +difference has been admitted. Nor can one be subordinated to the +other. +</p> +<p> +Now this view of art finds no place at all in Plato's thought. Art is, +for him, absolutely subservient both to morals and to philosophy. That +it subserves morality we see from the "Republic," where only that +poetry is allowed which inculcates virtue, and only because it +inculcates virtue. It is no sufficient justification of a poem to +plead that it is beautiful. Beautiful or not, if it does not subserve +the ends of morality, it is forbidden. Hence too the preposterous +notion that its exercise is to be controlled, even in details, by the +State. That this would mean the utter destruction of art either did +not occur to Plato, or if it did, did not deter him. If poetry cannot +exist under the yoke of morality, it must not be allowed to exist at +all. That art is merely a means to philosophy is even more evident. +The end of all education is the knowledge of the Ideas, and every +other subject, science, mathematics, art, is introduced into the <a name="231">{231}</a> +educational curriculum solely as a preparation for that end. They have +no value in themselves. This is obvious from the teaching of the +"Republic," and it is even more evident in the "Symposium," where the +love of beautiful objects is made to end, not in itself, but in +philosophy. +</p> +<p> +Plato's low estimate of art appears also in his theory of art as +imitation, and his contemptuous references to the nature of artistic +genius. As to the first, art is, to him, only imitation. It is the +copy of an object of the senses, and this again is only a copy of an +Idea. Hence a work of art is only a copy of a copy. Plato did not +recognise the creativeness of art. This view is certainly false. If +the aims of art were merely to imitate, a photograph would be the best +picture, since it is the most accurate copy of its object. What Plato +failed to see was that the artist does not copy his object, but +idealizes it. And this means that he does not see the object simply as +an object, but as the revelation of an Idea. He does not see the +phenomenon with the eyes of other men, but penetrates the sensuous +envelope and exhibits the Idea shining through the veils of sense. +</p> +<p> +The second point is Plato's estimate of artistic genius. The artist +does not work by reason, but by inspiration. He does not, or he should +not, create the beautiful by means of rules, or by the application of +principles. It is only after the work of art is created that the +critic discovers rules in it. This does not mean that the discovery of +rules is false, but that the artist follows them unconsciously and +instinctively. If, for example, we believe Aristotle's dictum that the +object of tragedy <a name="232">{232}</a> is to purge the heart by terror and pity, we +do not mean that the tragedian deliberately sets out to accomplish +that end. He does so without knowing or intending it. And this kind of +instinctive impulse we call the inspiration of the artist. Now Plato +fully recognizes these facts. But far from considering inspiration +something exalted, he thinks it, on the contrary, comparatively low +and contemptible, just because it is not rational. He calls it "divine +madness," divine indeed, because the artist produces beautiful things, +but madness because he himself does not know how or why he has done +it. The poet says very wise and beautiful things, but he does not know +why they are wise and beautiful. He merely feels, and does not +understand anything. His inspiration, therefore, is not on the level +of knowledge, but only of right opinion, which knows what is true, but +does not know why. +</p> +<p> +Plato's views of art are thus not satisfactory. He is doubtless right +in placing inspiration below reason, and art below philosophy. They do +stand to each other in the relation of higher and lower. Not that such +a question can be decided by mere personal preferences. The usual +discussions whether art or philosophy is better, whether emotion or +reason is higher, are pointless and insipid, because the disputants +merely exalt their personal peculiarities. The man of artistic +temperament naturally prefers art, and says it is the highest. The +philosopher exalts philosophy above art, merely because it is his pet +hobby. This kind of discussion is futile. The matter must be decided +upon some principle. And the principle is quite clear. Both art and +philosophy have the same object, the <a name="233">{233}</a> apprehension of the +Absolute, or the Idea. Philosophy apprehends it as it is in itself, +that is to say, as thought. Art apprehends it in a merely sensuous +form. Philosophy apprehends it in its truth, art in a comparatively +untrue way. Philosophy, therefore, is the higher. But while any true +philosophy of art must recognize this, it must not interpret it to +mean that art is to be made merely a means towards philosophy. It must +somehow find room for the recognition of the truth that art is an end +in itself, and it is in this that Plato fails. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle, who had no spark of artistic capacity in his composition, +whose own writings are the severest of scientific treatises, did far +greater justice to art than Plato, and propounded a far more +satisfactory theory. Plato, himself a great artist, is utterly unjust +to art. Paradoxical as it may appear, the very reason why Aristotle +could be just to art was that he was no artist. Being solely a +philosopher, his own writings are scientific and inartistic. This +enables him to recognize art as a separate sphere, and therefore as +having its own rights. Plato could not keep the two separate. His +dialogues are both works of art and of philosophy. We have seen +already that this fact exercised an evil influence on his philosophy, +since it made him substitute poetic myths for scientific explanation. +Now we see that it exercised an equally evil influence on his views of +art. As a philosopher-artist his own practice is to use literary art +solely as a means towards the expression of philosophical ideas. And +this colours his whole view of art. It is, to him, nothing but a means +towards philosophy. And this is the tap-root of his entire view of the +subject. +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="234">{234}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +7. Critical Estimate of Plato's Philosophy, +</p> +<p> +If we are to form a just estimate of the value of Plato's philosophy, +we must not fritter away our criticism on the minor points, the +external details, the mere outworks of the system. We must get at the +heart and governing centre of it all. Amid the mass of thought which +Plato has developed, in all departments of speculation, that which +stands out as the central thesis of the whole system is the theory of +Ideas. All else is but deduction from this. His physics, his ethics, +his politics, his views upon art, all flow from this one governing +theory. It is here then that we must look, alike for the merits and +the defects of Plato's system. +</p> +<p> +The theory of Ideas is not a something sprung suddenly upon the world +out of Plato's brain. It has its roots in the past. It is, as +Aristotle showed, the outcome of Eleatic, Heracleitean, and Socratic +determinations. Fundamentally, however, it grows out of the +distinction between sense and reason, which had been the common +property of Greek thinkers since the time of Parmenides. Parmenides +was the first to emphasize this distinction, and to teach that the +truth is to be found by reason, the world of sense being illusory. +Heracleitus, and even Democritus, were pronounced adherents of reason, +as against sense. The crisis came with the Sophists, who attempted to +obliterate the distinction altogether, and to find all knowledge in +sensation, thus calling forth the opposition of Socrates and Plato. As +against them Socrates pointed out that all knowledge is through +concepts, reason: and Plato added to this that the concept is not a +mere rule of thought but a metaphysical reality. This was the +substance of the theory of Ideas. <a name="235">{235}</a> Every philosophy which makes a +systematic attempt to solve the riddle of the universe necessarily +begins with a theory of the nature of that absolute and ultimate +reality from which the universe is derived. This absolute reality we +will call simply the Absolute. Plato's theory is that the Absolute +consists of concepts. To say that the Absolute is reason, is thought, +is concepts, is the universal--these are merely four different +expressions of the same theory. Now this proposition, that the +Absolute is reason, is the fundamental thesis of all idealism. Since +Plato's time there have been several great idealistic systems of +philosophy. That the Absolute is reason is the central teaching of +them all. Plato, therefore, is the founder and initiator of all +idealism. It is this that gives him his great place in the history of +philosophy. That the Absolute is universal thought, this is what Plato +has contributed to the philosophical speculation of the world. This is +his crowning merit. +</p> +<p> +But we must go somewhat more into details. We must see how far he +applied this principle successfully to the unravelment of the great +problems of philosophy. In lecturing upon the Eleatics, I said that +any successful philosophy must satisfy at least two conditions. It +must give such an account of the Absolute, that the Absolute is shown +as capable of explaining the world. It must be possible to deduce the +actual world of facts from the first principle. Secondly, not only +must this first principle explain the world; it must also explain +itself. It must be really ultimate, that is, we must not, in order to +understand it, have to refer to anything beyond and outside it. If we +have to do so then our ultimate is not an ultimate at all; our first +principle <a name="236">{236}</a> is not first. That thing by means of which we explain +it must itself be the ultimate reality. And besides being ultimate, +our principle must be wholly intelligible. It must not be a mere +ultimate mystery; for to reduce the whole world to an ultimate mystery +is clearly not to explain it. Our first principle must, in a word, be +self-explanatory. Let us apply this two-fold test to Plato's system. +Let us see, firstly, whether the principle of Ideas explains the +world, and secondly, whether it explains itself. +</p> +<p> +Does it explain the world? Is the actual existence of things, horses, +trees, stars, men, explained by it? What, in the first place, is the +relation between things and the Ideas? Things, says Plato, are +"copies," or "imitations" of the Ideas. They "participate" in the +Ideas. The Ideas are "archetypal" of things. Now all these phrases are +mere poetic metaphors. They do not really tell us how things are +related to Ideas. But suppose we ignore this, and assume, for the sake +of argument, that we understand what is meant by "participation" and +that things are, in the literal sense, "copies" of Ideas. The question +still remains, why do such copies exist, how do they arise? Now, if +this problem is to be solved, it is not enough to show, merely as a +fact, that, by some mysterious act, copies of Ideas come into +existence. There must be a reason for it, and this reason it is the +business of philosophy to explain. This reason, too, must exist in the +nature of the Ideas themselves, and not outside them. There must be, +in the very nature of the Ideas, some inner necessity which forces +them to reproduce themselves in things. This is what we <a name="237">{237}</a> mean by +saying that the Ideas are a sufficient explanation of the existence of +things. But there is in Plato's Ideas no such necessity. The Ideas are +defined as being the sole reality. They have already all reality in +themselves. They are self-sufficient. They lack nothing. It is not +necessary for them further to realize their being in the concrete +manifestation of things, because they, as wholly real, need no +realization. Why, then, should they not remain for ever simply as they +are? Why should they go out of themselves into things? Why should they +not remain in themselves and by themselves? Why should they need to +reproduce themselves in objects? There are, we know, white objects in +the universe. Their existence, we are told, is explained by the Idea +of whiteness? But why should the Idea of whiteness produce white +things? It is itself the perfect whiteness. Why should it stir itself? +Why should it not remain by itself, apart, sterile, in the world of +Ideas, for all eternity? We cannot see. There is in the Ideas no +necessity urging them towards reproduction of themselves, and this +means that they possess no principle for the explanation of things. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless Plato has to make some attempt to meet the difficulty. +And as the Ideas are themselves impotent to produce things, Plato, +unable to solve the problem by reason, attempts to solve it by +violence. He drags in the notion of God from nowhere in particular, +and uses him as a <i>deus ex machina</i>. God fashions matter into the +images of Ideas. The very fact that Plato is forced to introduce a +creator shows that, in the Ideas themselves, there is no ground of +explanation. Things ought to be explained by the Ideas themselves, +<a name="238">{238}</a> but as they are incapable of explaining anything, God is called +upon to do their work for them. Thus Plato, faced with the problem of +existence, practically deserts his theory of Ideas, and falls back +upon a crude theism. Or if we say that the term God is not to be taken +literally, and that Plato uses it merely as a figurative term for the +Idea of Good, then this saves Plato from the charge of introducing a +theism altogether inconsistent with his philosophy, but it brings us +back to the old difficulty. For in this case, the existence of things +must be explained by means of the Idea of the Good. But this Idea is +just as impotent as the other Ideas. +</p> +<p> +In this connection, too, the dualism of Plato's system becomes +evident. If everything is grounded in the one ultimate reality, the +Ideas, then the entire universe must be clasped together in a system, +all parts of which flow out of the Ideas. If there exists in the +universe anything which stands aloof from this system, remains +isolated, and cannot be reduced to a manifestation of the Ideas, then +the philosophy has failed to explain the world, and we have before us +a confessed dualism. Now not only has Plato to drag in God for the +explanation of things, he has also to drag in matter. God takes matter +and forms it into copies of the Ideas. But what is this matter, and +where does it spring from? Clearly, if the sole reality is the Ideas, +matter, like all else, must be grounded in the Ideas. But this is not +the case in Plato's system. Matter appears as a principle quite +independent of the Ideas. As its being is self-derived and original, +it must be itself a substance. But this is just what Plato denies, +calling it absolute <a name="239">{239}</a> not-being. Yet since it has not its source +in the Ideas or in anything outside itself, we must say that though +Plato calls it absolute not-being, it is in fact an absolute being. +The Ideas and matter stand face to face in Plato's system neither +derived from the other, equally ultimate co-ordinate, absolute +realities. This is sheer dualism. +</p> +<p> +The source of this dualism is to be found in the absolute separation +which Plato makes between sense and reason. He places the world of +sense on one side, the world of reason on the other, as things +radically different and opposed. Hence it is impossible for him ever +to bridge the gulf that he has himself created between them. We may +expect the dualism of a philosophy which builds upon such premises to +break out at numerous points in the system. And so indeed it does. It +exhibits itself as the dualism of Ideas and matter, of the sense-world +and the thought-world, of body and soul. Not, of course, that it is +not quite right to recognize the distinction between sense and reason. +Any genuine philosophy must recognize that. And no doubt too it is +right to place truth and reality on the side of reason rather than +sense. But although sense and reason are distinct, they must also be +identical. They must be divergent streams flowing from one source. And +this means that a philosophy which considers the absolute reality to +be reason must exhibit sense as a lower form of reason. Because Plato +fails to see the identity of sense and reason, as well as their +difference, his philosophy becomes a continual fruitless effort to +overreach the dualism thus generated. +</p> +<p> +Thus the answer to our first question, whether the theory of Ideas +explains the world of things, must be <a name="240">{240}</a> answered in the negative. +Let us pass on to the second test. Is the principle of Ideas a +self-explanatory principle? Such a principle must be understood purely +out of itself. It must not be a principle, like that of the +materialist, which merely reduces the whole universe to an ultimate +mysterious fact. For even if it be shown that the reason of everything +is matter, it is still open to us to ask what the reason of matter is. +We cannot see any reason why matter should exist. It is a mere fact, +which dogmatically forces itself upon our consciousness without giving +any reason for itself. Our principle must be such that we cannot ask a +further reason of it. It must be its own reason, and so in itself +satisfy the demand for a final explanation. Now there is only one such +principle in the world, namely, reason itself. You can ask the reason +of everything else in the world. You can ask the reason of the sun, +the moon, stars, the soul, God, or the devil. But you cannot ask the +reason of reason, because reason is its own reason. Let us put the +same thought in another way. When we demand the explanation of +anything, what do we mean by explanation? What is it we want? Do we +not mean that the thing appears to us irrational, and we want it shown +that it is rational? When this is done, we say it is explained. Think, +for example, of what is called the problem of evil. People often talk +of it as the problem of the "origin of evil," as if what we want to +know is, how evil began. But even if we knew this, it would not +explain anything. Suppose that evil began because someone ate an +apple. Does this make the matter any clearer? Do we feel that all our +difficulties about the existence of evil are solved? No. This is <a name="241">{241}</a> +not what we want to know. The difficulty is that evil appears to us +something irrational. The problem can only be solved by showing us +that somehow, in spite of appearances, it is rational that evil should +exist. Show us this, and evil is explained. Explanation of a thing, +then, means showing that the thing is rational. Now we can ask that +everything else in the world should be shown to be rational. But we +cannot demand that the philosopher shall show that reason is rational. +This is absurd. Reason is what is already absolutely rational. It is +what explains itself. It is its own reason. It is a self-explanatory +principle. This, then, must be the principle of which we are in +search. The Absolute, we said, must be a self-explanatory principle, +and there is only one such, namely, reason. The Absolute, therefore, +is reason. +</p> +<p> +It was the greatness and glory of Plato to have seen this, and thereby +to have become the founder of all true philosophy. For to say that the +Absolute is concepts is the same as saying it is reason. It might +seem, then, that Plato has satisfied the second canon of criticism. He +takes as first principle a self-explanatory reality. But we cannot +quite so quickly jump to this conclusion. After all, the mere word +reason is not a key which will unlock to us the doors of the universe. +Something more is necessary than the mere word. We must, in fact, be +told what reason is. Now there are two senses in which we might ask +the question, what reason is, one of which is legitimate, the other +illegitimate. It is illegitimate to ask what reason is, in the sense +of asking that it shall be explained to us in terms of something else, +which is not reason. This would be <a name="242">{242}</a> to give up our belief that +reason is its own reason. It would be to seek the reason of reason in +something which is not reason. It would be to admit that reason, in +itself, is not rational. And this is absurd. But it is legitimate to +ask, what reason is, meaning thereby, what is the <i>content</i> of reason. +The content of reason, we have seen, is concepts. But what concepts? +How are we to know whether any particular concept is part of the +system of reason or not? Only, it is evident, by ascertaining whether +it is a rational concept. If a concept is wholly rational, then it is +a part of reason. If not, not. What we need, then, is a detailed +account of all the concepts which reason contains, and a proof that +each of these concepts is really rational. It is obvious that only in +this way can we make a satisfactory beginning in philosophy. Before we +can show that reason explains, that is, rationalizes the world, we +must surely first show that reason itself is rational, or rather, to +be more accurate, that <i>our conception</i> of reason is rational. There +must not be any mere inexplicable facts, any mysteries, any dark +places, in our notion of reason. It must be penetrated through and +through by the light of reason. It must be absolutely transparent, +crystalline. How can we hope to explain the world, if our very first +principle itself contains irrationalities? +</p> +<p> +Each concept then must prove itself rational. And this means that it +must be a necessary concept. A necessary proposition, we saw, is one, +such as that two and two equal four, the opposite of which is +unthinkable. So for Plato's Ideas to be really necessary it ought to +be logically impossible for us to deny their <a name="243">{243}</a> reality. It ought +to be impossible to think the world at all without these concepts. To +attempt to deny them ought to be shown to be self-contradictory. They +ought to be so necessarily involved in reason that thought without +them becomes impossible. Clearly this is the same as saying that the +Ideas must not be mere ultimate inexplicable facts. Of such a fact we +assert merely that it is so, but we cannot see any reason for it. To +see a reason for it is the same as seeing its necessity, seeing not +merely that it is so, but that it must be so. +</p> +<p> +Now Plato's Ideas are not of this necessary kind. There is, we are +told, an Idea of whiteness. But why should there be such an Idea? It +is a mere fact. It is not a necessity. We can think the world quite +well without the Idea of whiteness. The world, so far as we can see, +could get on perfectly well without either white objects or the Idea +of whiteness. To deny its reality leads to no self-contradictions. Put +it in another way. There are certainly white objects in the world. We +demand that these, among other things, be explained. Plato tells us, +by way of explanation, that there are white objects because there is +an Idea of whiteness. But in that case why is there an Idea of +whiteness? We cannot see. There is no reason. There is no necessity in +this. The same thing applies to all the other Ideas. They are not +rational concepts. They are not a part of the system of reason. +</p> +<p> +But at this point, perhaps, a glimmer of hope dawns upon us. We ask +the reason for these Ideas. Has not Plato asserted that the ultimate +reason and ground of all the lower Ideas will be found in the supreme +Idea of <a name="244">{244}</a> the Good? Now if this is so, it means that the lower +Ideas must find their necessity in the highest Idea. If we could see +that the Idea of the Good necessarily involves the other Ideas, then +these other Ideas would be really explained. In other words, we ought +to be able to deduce all the other Ideas from this one Idea. It ought +to be possible to show that, granted the Idea of the Good, all the +other Ideas necessarily follow, that to assume the Good and deny the +other Ideas would be self-contradictory and unthinkable. There are +examples in Plato of the kind of deduction we require. For example, in +the "Parmenides" he showed that the Idea of the one necessarily +involves the Idea of the many, and vice versa. You cannot think the +one without also thinking the many. This means that the many is +deduced from the one, and the one from the many. Just in the same way, +we ought to be able to deduce the Idea of whiteness from the Idea of +the Good. But this is clearly not possible. You may analyse the Good +as long as you like, you may turn it in every conceivable direction, +but you cannot get whiteness out of it. The two Ideas do not involve +each other. They are thinkable apart. It is quite possible to think +the Good without thinking whiteness. And it is the same with all the +other Ideas. None of them can be deduced from the Good. +</p> +<p> +And the reason of this is very obvious. Just as the lower Ideas +contain only what is common among the things of a class, and exclude +their differences, so the higher Ideas include what is common to the +Ideas that come under them, but exclude what is not common. For +example, the Idea of colour contains what white, blue, red, and green, +have in common. But all colours <a name="245">{245}</a> have not whiteness in common. +Green, for example, is not white. Hence the Idea of colour excludes +the Idea of whiteness, and it likewise excludes all the Ideas of the +other particular colours. So too the highest Idea of all contains only +what all the Ideas agree in, but all the rest falls outside it. Thus +the Idea of whiteness is perfect in its kind. And as all Ideas are +likewise perfect, the highest Idea is that in which they all agree, +namely, perfection itself. But this means that the perfection of the +Idea of whiteness is contained in the supreme Idea, but its specific +character in which it differs from other Ideas is excluded. Its +specific character is just its whiteness. Thus the perfection of +whiteness is contained in the Good, but its whiteness is not. +Consequently it is impossible to deduce whiteness from the Good, +because the Good does not contain whiteness. You cannot get out of it +what is not in it. When Plato deduced the many from the one, he did so +only by showing that the One contains the many. He cannot deduce +whiteness from goodness, because goodness does not contain whiteness. +</p> +<p> +The lower Ideas thus have not the character of necessity. They are +mere facts. And the hope that we shall find their necessity in the +supreme Idea fails. But suppose we waive this. Suppose we grant that +there must be an Idea of whiteness, because there is an Idea of the +Good. Then why is there an Idea of the Good? What is the necessity of +that? We cannot see any necessity in it. What we said of the other +Ideas applies with equal force to the highest Idea. The Good may be a +necessary Idea, but Plato has not shown it. +</p> +<p> +Thus, though Plato named reason as the Absolute, <a name="246">{246}</a> and though +reason is a self-explanatory principle, his account of the detailed +content of reason is so unsatisfactory that none of the concepts which +he includes in it are really shown to be rational. His philosophy +breaks down upon the second test as it did upon the first. He has +neither explained the world from the Ideas, nor has he made the Ideas +explain themselves. +</p> +<p> +There is one other defect in Plato's system which is of capital +importance. There runs throughout it a confusion between the notions +of reality and existence. To distinguish between existence and reality +is an essential feature of all idealism. Even if we go back to the dim +idealism of the Eleatics, we shall see this. Zeno, we saw, denied +motion, multiplicity, and the world of sense. But he did not deny the +existence of the world. That is an impossibility. Even if the world is +delusion, the delusion exists. What he denied was the reality of +existence. But if reality is not existence, what is it? It is Being, +replied the Eleatics. But Being does not exist. Whatever exists is +this or that particular sort of being. Being itself is not anywhere to +be found. Thus the Eleatics first denied that existence is reality, +and then that reality exists. They did not themselves draw this +conclusion, but it is involved in their whole position. +</p> +<p> +With a fully developed idealism, like Plato's, this ought to be still +clearer. And, in a sense, it is. The individual horse is not real. But +it certainly exists. The universal horse is real. But it does not +exist. But, upon this last point, Plato wavered and fell. He cannot +resist the temptation to think of the absolute reality as existing. +And consequently the Ideas are <a name="247">{247}</a> not merely thought as the real +universal in the world, but as having a separate existence in a world +of their own. Plato must have realised what is, in truth, involved in +his whole position, that the absolute reality has no existence. For he +tells us that it is the universal, and not any particular individual +thing. But everything that exists is an individual thing. Again, he +tells us that the Idea is outside time. But whatever exists must exist +at some time. Here then this central idealistic thought seems well +fixed in Plato's mind. But when he goes on to speak of recollection +and reincarnation, when he tells us that the soul before birth dwelt +apart in the world of Ideas, to which after death it may hope to +return, it is clear that Plato has forgotten his own philosophy, that +he is now thinking of the Ideas as individual existences in a world of +their own. This is a world of Ideas having a separate existence and +place of its own. It is not this world. It is a world beyond. Thus the +Platonic philosophy which began on a high level of idealistic +thinking, proclaiming the sole reality of the universal, ends by +turning the universal itself into nothing but an existent particular. +It is the old old story of trying to form mental pictures of that +which no picture is adequate to comprehend. Since all pictures are +formed out of sensuous materials, and since we can form no picture of +anything that is not an individual thing, to form a picture of the +universal necessarily means thinking of it as just what it is not, an +individual. So Plato commits the greatest sin that can be ascribed to +a philosopher. He treats thought as a thing. +</p> +<p> +To sum up. Plato is the great founder of idealism, the initiator of +all subsequent truths in philosophy. <a name="248">{248}</a> But, as always with +pioneers, his idealism is crude. It cannot explain the world; it +cannot explain itself. It cannot even keep true to its own principles, +because, having for the first time in history definitely enunciated +the truth that reality is the universal, it straightway forgets its +own creed and plunges back into a particularism which regards the +Ideas as existent individuals. It was these defects which Aristotle +set himself to rectify in a purer idealism, shorn of Plato's +impurities. +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="249">{249}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERXIII">CHAPTER XIII</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +ARISTOTLE +</p> +<p align=center> +1. Life, Writings, and general character of his Work. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle was born in 384 B.C. at Stagirus, a Grecian colony and +seaport on the coast of Thrace. His father Nichomachus was court +physician to King Amyntas of Macedonia, and from this began +Aristotle's long association with the Macedonian Court, which +considerably influenced his life and destinies. While he was still a +boy his father died, and he was sent by his guardian, Proxenus, to +Athens, the intellectual centre of the world, to complete his +education. He was then aged seventeen. He joined the Academy and +studied under Plato, attending the latter's lectures for a period of +twenty years. In subsequent times, Aristotle's detractors, anxious to +vilify his character, accused him of "ingratitude" to his master, +Plato. It was said that Plato's old age had been embittered by +dissensions in the school caused by the factious spirit of Aristotle. +That there is no ground for attaching any blame to Aristotle for the +troubles of Plato, which either did not exist or have been grossly +exaggerated, is evident both from the facts within our knowledge and +from the reference to Plato in Aristotle's works. It is not likely +that, had Aristotle rendered himself genuinely objectionable, he could +have remained for twenty years in <a name="250">{250}</a> the Academy, and only left it +upon the death of Plato. Moreover, although Aristotle in his works +attacks the teaching of Plato with unsparing vigour, there is nowhere +to be found in these attacks any suggestion of acrimony or personal +rancour. On the contrary, he refers to himself as the friend of Plato, +but a greater friend of the truth. The fact, in all probability, is +that a man of such independent and original mind as Aristotle did not +accord to Plato the kind of blind adoration and hero-worship which he +may have received from the inferior intellects in the school. As is so +often the case with young men of marked ability, the brilliant student +may have suffered from the impatience and self-assertion of youth. +There was certainly nothing worse. +</p> +<p> +While at the Academy Aristotle exhibited an unflagging spirit and +unwearied zeal in the pursuit of knowledge in all its forms, a spirit +which gave rise to nick-names and anecdotes, which probably contained +as much truth, or as little, as most of the anecdotes which gather +round remarkable characters. One of these stories was that he used a +mechanical contrivance to wake him up whenever sleep threatened to put +an end to his hours of study. +</p> +<p> +In 347 B.C. Plato died, and his nephew Speusippus was chosen as head +of the Academy. Aristotle left Athens with his fellow-student +Xenocrates, and together they repaired to the court of Hermeias, King +of Atarneus, in Asia Minor. Hermeias, a man of low origin, but of high +instincts and advanced education, had himself attended the lectures of +Plato, and received the two young philosophers as welcome guests. +Aristotle stayed three years at Atarneus, and, while there, married +<a name="251">{251}</a> Pythias, the niece of the King. In later life he was married a +second time to one Herpyllis, who bore him a son, Nichomachus. At the +end of three years Hermeias fell a victim to the treachery of the +Persians, and Aristotle went to Mytilene. Here he remained for several +years till he received an invitation from Philip of Macedonia to +become the tutor of the young Alexander, afterwards conqueror of the +world, then aged thirteen. Aristotle obeyed the summons, and for about +five years superintended the education of Alexander. Both Philip and +Alexander appear to have paid Aristotle high honour, and there were +stories that he was supplied by the Macedonian court, not only with +funds for the prosecution of learning, but even with thousands of +slaves for the collection of specimens. These stories are probably +false and certainly exaggerated. But there is no doubt that, in his +scientific and philosophical enquiries, he was backed by the influence +of the court, and could even perhaps have looked to that quarter for +supplies, had it ever been necessary. +</p> +<p> +Upon the death of Philip, Alexander succeeded to the kingship. The +period of his studies was now over, and he began to make preparations +for his subsequent conquests. Aristotle's work being finished, he +returned to Athens, which he had not visited since the death of Plato. +He found the Platonic school flourishing under Xenocrates, and +Platonism the dominant philosophy of Athens. He thereupon set up his +own school at a place called the Lyceum. It was in connection with +this that his followers became known, in after years, as the +"peripatetics," a name which arose from Aristotle's habit of walking +about as he discoursed. The period of <a name="252">{252}</a> his residence in Athens +lasted thirteen years, during which time he was occupied in the +leadership of his school and in literary labours. This appears to have +been the most fruitful period of his life. There is no doubt that all +his most important writings were composed at this time. But at the end +of this period his fortunes changed. +</p> +<p> +In B.C. 323 Alexander the Great died suddenly at Babylon in the midst +of his triumphs. The Athenian Government was in the hands of a +pro-Macedonian party. Upon the death of Alexander this party was +overthrown, and a general reaction occurred against everything +Macedonian. Alexander had been regarded in Greece much as Napoleon was +regarded in Europe a century ago. He had insulted the free Greek +cities. He had even sacked the city of Thebes. The whole of Greece +lived in perpetual terror of invasion. Now that this fear was removed +by his death, there was a general outburst of feeling against +Macedonia. An anti-Macedonian party came into power. Now Aristotle had +always been regarded as a representative and protege of the Macedonian +court, although, as a matter of fact, he had recently fallen out of +favour with the autocratic Alexander. A charge of impiety was trumped +up against him. To escape prosecution he fled to Chalcis in Euboea, in +order that, as he said, "the Athenians might not have another +opportunity of sinning against philosophy as they had already done in +the person of Socrates." He perhaps intended to return to Athens as +soon as the storm had blown over. But in the first year of his +residence at Chalcis he was overtaken by a sudden illness, and died at +the age of sixty-three, in B.C. 322. +</p> +<p> +<a name="253">{253}</a> +</p> +<p> +Aristotle is said to have composed some four hundred books. Our +astonishment at this productivity diminishes somewhat when we remember +that what is here called a "book" is much the same as what we should +call a chapter in a modern treatise. More than three-quarters of these +writings have been lost. But, by good fortune, what remains to us is +undoubtedly by far the most important part, and we have preserved in +it a fairly complete account of the whole Aristotelian system in all +its departments. Nearly all the writings, however, have come down to +us in a mutilated state. This is especially the case with the +"Metaphysics." This treatise is unfinished, and it was probably left +unfinished by its author at his death. But apart from this, several of +the books of the "Metaphysics" are undoubtedly spurious. Others +apparently come in the wrong order. We end one book in the middle of a +discussion, and when we begin the next we find ourselves in the middle +of an entirely different subject. There are frequent repetitions, and +parts of it read as if they were mere lecture notes. There are many +interpolations. The same characteristics are to be observed in +Aristotle's other writings, though in a less degree. It seems probable +that they were not intended, in their present state, for publication. +Final revision and finishing touches are lacking. In spite of these +defects, the writings are voluminous and clear enough to enable us to +trace out the whole of the main positions of Aristotle's thought. +</p> +<p> +We saw, in the case of Plato, that, as his literary activity lasted +over a period of half a century, during which his philosophy was in +constant development, it became important to trace this development in +the <a name="254">{254}</a> order of his Dialogues. The same thing is not true in the +case of Aristotle. The whole of his writings, or rather those that +have come down to us, seem to have been written during his last +thirteen years, while he was at Athens, that is to say, after he had +passed his fiftieth year. His system was then complete, mature, and +fully developed. The question of the order in which they were written +has no great importance. The result of critical investigations, +however, is to show that he probably began with the various works upon +logic, composed next the treatises upon physical science, next the +ethical and political books, and lastly the "Metaphysics," which he +left unfinished. +</p> +<p> +It must not be forgotten that Aristotle was not only a philosopher in +the modern restricted sense of that term. He was a man of universal +learning. There is no branch of knowledge which did not receive his +attention, and upon which he was not the greatest expert of his time, +except perhaps mathematics. So far was he from being only an abstract +philosopher, that his natural tastes seem to have lain rather in the +field of physical science than of abstract thought. But his design +seems to have been to work over the entire field of knowledge, +thoroughly to overhaul the sciences already in existence, rejecting +what seemed false in the work of his predecessors, and invariably +adding to the residue valuable developments and suggestions of his +own. Where there was no science already in existence, his plan +involved the foundation of new sciences wherever necessary, and he +thus became the founder of at least two sciences, Logic and Zoology. +He thus attained to a pre-eminence in all branches <a name="255">{255}</a> of knowledge +which would be impossible for a single man in modern times. His works +include treatises upon Logic and Metaphysics, upon Ethics, Politics, +and Art. He wrote a treatise upon the principles of Rhetoric, another +upon Astronomy, under the title "On the Heavens," another upon +Meteorology. Several of his treatises deal with the biology of animal +life, in which he was intensely interested. They include books +entitled "On the Parts of Animals," "On the Movements of Animals," "On +the Origin of Animals," as well as his great treatise, "Researches on +Animals," which contains an enormous mass of facts collected from +every possible source. It is true that a large proportion of these +facts have turned out to be fictions, but this was inevitable in the +infancy of science. It has been calculated that Aristotle shows +himself acquainted with about five hundred different species of living +beings, though they are not, of course, classified by him in the +modern way. With these books upon animals he founded the science of +Zoology, for no one before his day had made any special study of the +subject. +</p> +<p> +It has been said that everyone has either an Aristotelian or a +Platonic type of mind. As this implies that Aristotle and Plato are +opposites, it is considerably less than a half truth. No genuine +understanding of Aristotle can endorse the opinion that his +philosophical system was the opposite of Plato's. It would be truer to +say that Aristotle was the greatest of all Platonists, since his +system is still founded upon the Idea, and is an attempt to found an +idealism free from the defects of Plato's system. It is in fact a +development of Platonism. What is the cause then of the popular notion +that <a name="256">{256}</a> Aristotle was the opposite of Plato? Now the fact is that +they <i>were</i> opposites in many important respects. But there was a +fundamental agreement between them which lies deeper than the +differences. The differences are largely superficial, the agreement is +deep-seated. Hence it is the differences that are most obvious, and it +was the differences, too, which were most obvious to Aristotle +himself. The popular opinion arises largely from the fact that +Aristotle never loses an opportunity of attacking the Platonic theory +of Ideas. He is continually at pains to emphasize the difference +between himself and Plato, but says nothing of the agreement. But no +man is a judge of his own deeper relations to his predecessors and +contemporaries. It is only in after years, when the hubbub of +controversy has settled down into the silence of the past, that the +historian can see the true perspective, and can penetrate the +relations of each great man to the time in which he lived. Plato was +the founder of idealism, and his idealism was in many respects crude +and untenable. It was the special mission of Aristotle to clear away +these crudities, and so develop Platonism into a tenable philosophy. +And it was natural that he should emphasize the crudities, which he +had to fight so hard to overcome, rather than that substratum of truth +which Plato had already developed, and which therefore required no +special treatment at his hands. It was the differences between himself +and his predecessor which were most obvious to him, and it was +inevitable that he should adopt a thoroughly polemical attitude +towards his master. +</p> +<p> +But if the agreement was more deep-seated than the differences, and +lay in the recognition of the Idea as the <a name="257">{257}</a> absolute foundation of +the world, the differences were none the less very striking. In the +first place, Aristotle loved facts. What he wanted was always definite +scientific knowledge. Plato, on the other hand, had no love of facts +and no gift for physical enquiries. And what disgusted Aristotle about +the system of Plato was the contempt which it poured upon the world of +sense. To depreciate objects of sense, and to proclaim the knowledge +of them valueless, was a fundamental characteristic of all Plato's +thinking. But the world of sense is the world of facts, and Aristotle +was deeply interested in facts. No matter in what branch of knowledge, +any fact was received by Aristotle with enthusiasm. To Plato it +appeared of no interest what the habits of some obscure animal might +be. That alone which should be pursued is the knowledge of the Idea. +And he went so far as to deny that knowledge of the sense-world could +properly be described as knowledge at all. But the habits of animals +appeared to Aristotle a matter worthy of investigation for its own +sake. Francis Bacon in his "Novum Organum" has many contemptuous +references to Aristotle. And the gist of them all is that Aristotle +had no regard for facts, but theorized a priori out of his head, and +that instead of patiently investigating the facts of nature, he +decided, upon so-called "rational" grounds, what nature ought to do, +and squared the facts with his theories. +</p> +<p> +It was natural for Bacon to be unjust to him. He, with the other +thinkers of his time, was engaged upon an uphill fight against +scholasticism, then dominant, which claimed to represent the true +teaching of Aristotle. And it was true that the schoolmen theorized a +priori, <a name="258">{258}</a> and ignored facts, or, what was worse, appealed to the +writings of Aristotle to decide questions of fact which should have +been decided by an appeal to nature. And Bacon not unnaturally +confounded Aristotle with these modern Aristotelians, and attributed +to him the faults that were really theirs. But no man was ever keener +on facts than Aristotle as is proved by his treatises upon animals, +which contain evidences of astonishing patience and laborious work in +the collection of facts. It is true, however, that even in the domain +of facts, Aristotle, like all the ancients, was guilty of introducing +<i>a priori</i> reasonings when they were quite out of place. Thus he does +not scruple to argue that the stars must move in circles because the +circle is the perfect figure. And numerous similar instances could be +quoted. But it was inevitable that, with science in its swaddling +clothes, without the aid of any instruments, or of any body of +previously ascertained truths, Aristotle should fall into these +snares. He well understood the fundamental necessity of all natural +sciences for a laborious investigation of facts, but, when this was +impossible, he used the only means in his power, his reason. +</p> +<p> +Secondly, in spite of Plato's rationalism, he had allowed to myths and +poetry a large share in the development of his thoughts, and had even +exhibited a distinct tendency towards mysticism. Here again what +Aristotle wanted was definite knowledge. It pained him to see poetic +metaphors substituted for rational explanation. And this accounts for +the third main difference between Plato and Aristotle, the marked +contrast in their prose styles. Plato was a master-artist in words. +Aristotle cared nothing for the ornaments and beauties of style. <a name="259">{259}</a> +He harshly excludes them from his work. What alone he is intent upon +is the meaning, the truth that the words express. He is too much in +earnest with philosophy to lose himself in a haze of beautiful words, +or to be put off with metaphors instead of reasons. His style is even +harsh, abrupt, and ugly. But what it loses in beauty it gains in +clearness of conception. For every thought or shade of thought which +it is desired to express there is an accurate term. If no term in +common use will express the thought, Aristotle coins one. Hence he is +one of the greatest terminologists that ever lived. He adapted or +invented an enormous number of terms. He may be not unjustly regarded +as the founder of philosophical language, as the inventor of a +vocabulary of technical terms. Many of the terms used to this day to +express man's most abstract thoughts, were invented or introduced by +Aristotle. It must not be supposed that Aristotle wrote in a rigidly +scientific style because he had no aesthetic sense. The very contrary +is the case. His treatise on art shows him by far the best critic of +the ancient world, and in his appreciation and estimation of the +beautiful he far excels Plato. But he saw that art and science have +each their own sphere, and that it is fatal to confuse the two. +Nothing is so damaging to art as to be made the mere vehicle of +reasoning. Nothing is so damaging to philosophy as to allow itself to +be governed by poetry. If we want beauty, we must follow the path of +art. But if we desire truth, we must stick close to reason. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle's system falls most easily into the fivefold division of +logic, metaphysics, physics, ethics, and aesthetics. +</p> +<p> +<a name="260">{260}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +2. Logic. +</p> +<p> +Not much need be said under this head, because whoever knows the +common logic of the text-books knows the logic of Aristotle. Of the +two branches of reasoning, deductive and inductive, Aristotle clearly +recognizes the latter. And many of his observations upon induction are +acute and penetrating. But he has not reduced induction to a science. +He has not laid bare the fundamental canons of inductive thought. This +was a work not performed until comparatively modern times. His name +therefore is more especially associated with deductive logic, of which +he was the founder. He not only founded the science, but practically +completed it. What we now know as "formal logic," what is to this day +contained in all text-books, taught in all schools and universities, +is, in all its essentials, nothing more than the logic of Aristotle. +His writings upon the subject include the treatment of the well-known +laws of thought, the doctrine of the ten categories, the five +predicables, the doctrines of terms, of propositions, of syllogisms, +and of the reduction of the other figures to the first figure of the +syllogism. And these heads might well form the list of contents of a +modern work on formal logic. In only two respects has any advance been +made upon Aristotle by subsequent logicians. The fourth figure of the +syllogism is not recognized by Aristotle; and he dealt only with +categorical syllogisms, and does not treat conditional syllogisms. But +whether or not the fourth figure of the syllogism has any value is +still a matter open to dispute. And though the doctrine of conditional +syllogisms is important, it is not essential, because all conditional +syllogisms can be reduced to categorical <a name="261">{261}</a> syllogisms. The +categorical syllogism is the fundamental type of reasoning, to which +every other form of deduction can be reduced. As for the rest of the +huge treatises on formal logic which some moderns have produced, the +supposed additions are nothing but wearisome, endless, useless, +nauseating, academic distinctions and refinements, which are much +better forgotten than remembered. Aristotle's logic contains therefore +all that is essential to the subject. The only ground on which it can +be attacked is its wholly empirical procedure. But that is another +story. As a collection, arrangement, and analysis of the facts of +reason, it is to all intents and purposes finality achieved at one +stroke. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +3. Metaphysics. +</p> +<p> +The treatise now known as the "Metaphysics" of Aristotle did not +originally bear that name. Aristotle's name for this subject is "first +philosophy," by which he means the knowledge of the first, highest, or +most general principles of the universe. All other branches of +knowledge are subordinate to this science, not because they are +inferior in value, but because they are lower in logical sequence as +dealing with principles less universal in their scope. Thus all the +special sciences deal with one or another particular sphere of being, +but the "first philosophy" has for its subject being as such, "being +so far forth as it is being." It studies, not the characteristics of +this or that kind of being, but the principles which are equally true +of all being. The laws of Zoology apply only to animals, but the +principles of the "first philosophy" apply to everything. The name +"metaphysics" came into use only half a century B.C., when <a name="262">{262}</a> +Andronicus published a complete edition of Aristotle's known works. In +this edition the treatise on "first philosophy" was placed after the +"physics," and "metaphysics" signifies simply "after physics." The +derivation of the word thus appears to be merely accidental and +adventitious. Whether it was also in any way intended to signify that +the subject is "beyond physics," that is, deals with what transcends +physical existence, seems doubtful. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle's metaphysical theory grows naturally out of his polemic +against Plato's theory of Ideas, because his own system was in effect +simply an attempt to overcome the defects which he found in Plato. The +main heads of this polemic are the following:-- +</p> +<p> +(1) Plato's Ideas do not explain the existence of things. To explain +why the world is here is after all the main problem of philosophy, and +Plato's theory fails to do this. Even admitting that, say, the Idea of +whiteness exists, we cannot see how it produces white objects. +</p> +<p> +(2) Plato has not explained the relation of Ideas to things. Things, +we are told, are "copies" of Ideas, and "participate" in them. But how +are we to understand this "participation"? In using such phrases, says +Aristotle, Plato is giving no real account of the relationship, but is +merely "uttering poetic metaphors." +</p> +<p> +(3) Even if the existence of things is explained by the Ideas, their +motion is not. Suppose that the Idea of whiteness produces white +things, the Idea of beauty beautiful things, and so on, yet, since the +Ideas themselves are immutable and motionless, so will be the world +which is their copy. Thus the universe would be <a name="263">{263}</a> absolutely +static, like Coleridge's "painted ship upon a painted ocean." But the +world, on the contrary, is a world of change, motion, life, becoming. +Plato makes no attempt to explain the unceasing becoming of things. +Even if the Idea of whiteness explains white objects, yet why do these +objects arise, develop, decay, and cease to exist? To explain this +there must be some principle of motion in the Ideas themselves. But +there is not. They are immovable and lifeless. +</p> +<p> +(4) The world consists of a multitude of things, and it is the +business of philosophy to explain why they exist. By way of +explanation Plato merely assumes the existence of another multitude of +things, the Ideas. But the only effect of this is to double the number +of things to be explained. How does it help thus to duplicate +everything? And Aristotle likens Plato to a man who, being unable to +count with a small number, fancies that, if he doubles the number, he +will find it easier to count. +</p> +<p> +(5) The Ideas are supposed to be non-sensuous, but they are, in fact, +sensuous. Plato thought that a non-sensuous principle must be sought +in order to explain the world of sense. But not being able to find any +such principle, he merely took the objects of sense over again and +called them non-sensuous. But there is, in fact, no difference between +the horse and the Idea of the horse, between the man and the Idea of +the man, except a useless and meaningless "in-itself" or "in-general" +attached to each object of sense to make it appear something +different. The Ideas are nothing but hypostatized things of sense, and +Aristotle likens them to the anthropomorphic gods of the popular +religion. "As <a name="264">{264}</a> these," he says, "are nothing but deified men, so +the Ideas are nothing but eternalized things of nature." Things are +said to be copies of Ideas, but in fact the Ideas are only copies of +things. +</p> +<p> +(6) Next comes the argument of the "third man," so called by Aristotle +from the illustration by which he explained it. Ideas are assumed in +order to explain what is common to many objects. Wherever there is a +common element there must be an Idea. Thus there is a common element +in all men, and therefore there is an Idea of man. But there is also +an element common to the individual man and to the Idea of man. There +must, therefore, be a further Idea, the "third man," to explain this. +And between this further Idea and the individual man there must be yet +another Idea to explain what they have in common, and so on <i>ad +infinitum</i>. +</p> +<p> +(7) But by far the most important of all Aristotle's objections to the +ideal theory, and that which, to all intents and purposes, sums up all +the others, is that it assumes that Ideas are the essences of things, +and yet places those essences outside the things themselves. The +essence of a thing must be in it, and not outside it. But Plato +separated Ideas from things, and placed the Ideas away somewhere in a +mysterious world of their own. The Idea, as the universal, can only +exist in the particular. Possibly the reality in all horses is the +universal horse, but the universal horse is not something that exists +by itself and independently of individual horses. Hence Plato was led +into the absurdity of talking as if, besides the individual horses we +know, there is somewhere another individual called the +horse-in-general, or as if besides white objects there is a thing +called <a name="265">{265}</a> whiteness. And this is in fact the supreme +self-contradiction of the theory of Ideas, that it begins by saying +that the universal is real, and the particular unreal, but ends by +degrading the universal again into a particular. This is the same +thing as saying that Plato's mistake lay in first (rightly) seeing +that existence is not reality, but then (wrongly) going on to imagine +that the reality is an existence. +</p> +<p> +Out of this last objection grows Aristotle's own philosophy, the +fundamental principle of which is that the universal is indeed the +absolute reality, but that it is a universal which exists only in the +particular. What is reality? What is substance? This is the first +question for the metaphysician. Now substance is what has an +independent existence of its own; it is that whose being does not flow +into it from any source outside itself. Consequently, substance is +what is never a predicate; it is that to which all predicates are +applied. Thus in the proposition, "Gold is heavy," gold is the +subject, or substance, and "heavy" is its predicate. The heaviness is +dependent for its existence on the gold, and it is therefore the +latter, and not the former, that is the substance. +</p> +<p> +Now, keeping this in mind, are universals, as Plato asserts, +substances? No; because the universal is merely a common predicate +which attaches to many objects of a class. Thus the concept of man is +merely what is common to all men. It is the same thing as the +predicate "humanness." But humanness cannot exist apart from human +beings, any more than heaviness apart from the heavy object. +Universals, then, are not substances. But neither are particulars +substances. For there is no such thing as that which is absolutely +<a name="266">{266}</a> particular and isolated. If humanness does not exist apart from +men, neither do men exist apart from humanness. Take away from a man +what he has in common with other men, and what he has in common with +other objects, and you will find that, having stripped him of all his +qualities, there is absolutely nothing left. We say gold is heavy, +yellow, malleable, etc. Now the heaviness, the yellowness, and the +other qualities, cannot exist apart from the gold. But it is equally +true that the gold cannot exist apart from its qualities. Strip off +all its qualities in thought, and then ask yourself what the gold +itself is apart from its qualities. You will find that your mind is a +total blank. In taking away the qualities you have taken away the gold +itself. The gold can only be thought through its qualities. It only +exists through its qualities. The gold, therefore, just as much +depends on the qualities for its existence as the qualities depend +upon the gold. Hence neither of them, considered apart from the other, +is substance. But the qualities are the universal element in the gold, +the gold without the qualities is the absolutely particular and +isolated. For, first, the yellowness is a quality which this gold has +in common with that gold, and is therefore a universal, and so with +all the qualities. Even if a particular piece of gold has a quality +possessed by no other gold, it is yet possessed by some other object +in the universe, or it would be unknowable. Every quality is +consequently a universal. Secondly, the gold without its qualities is +the absolutely particular. For, being stripped of all qualities, it is +stripped of whatever it has in common with other things; it is +stripped of whatever universality it has, and it remains an absolute +particular. Hence the <a name="267">{267}</a> universal is not substance, nor is the +particular. For neither of them can exist without the other. Substance +must be a compound of the two; it must be the universal in the +particular. And this means that that alone which is substance is the +individual object, for example, the gold with all its qualities +attached to it. +</p> +<p> +It is usually believed that Aristotle contradicted himself in as much +as he first states, as above, that the individual object, the compound +of universal and particular, is substance, but later on allows a +superior reality to the universal, or "form" as he calls it, and in +effect teaches, like Plato, that the universal is what alone is +absolutely real, that is, that the universal is substance. I do not +agree that there is any real inconsistency in Aristotle. Or rather, +the inconsistency is one of words and not of thought. It must be +remembered that, whenever Aristotle says that the individual, and not +the universal, is substance, he is thinking of Plato. What he means to +deny is that the universal can exist on its own account, as Plato +thought. Nevertheless he agrees with Plato that the universal is the +real. When he says that the universal is not substance he means, as +against Plato, that it is not existent. What alone exists is the +individual thing, the compound of universal and particular. When he +says, or implies, that the universal is substance, he means that, +though it is not existent, it is real. His words are contradictory, +but his meaning is not. He has not expressed himself as clearly as he +should; that is all. +</p> +<p> +The further development of Aristotle's metaphysics depends upon his +doctrine of causation. By causation here, however, is meant a very +much wider conception <a name="268">{268}</a> than what is understood by that term in +modern times. I have in previous lectures attempted to make clear the +distinction between causes and reasons. The cause of a thing does not +give any reason for it, and therefore does not explain it. The cause +is merely the mechanism by which a reason produces its consequence. +Death is caused by accident or disease, but these causes explain +nothing as to why death should be in the world at all. Now if we +accept this distinction, we may say that Aristotle's conception of +causation includes both what we have called causes and reasons. +Whatever is necessary, whether facts or principles, whether causes or +reasons, fully to understand the existence of a thing, or the +happening of an event, is included in the Aristotelian notion of +causation. +</p> +<p> +Taking causation in this wide sense, Aristotle finds that there are +four kinds of causes, the material, the efficient, the formal, and the +final cause. These are not alternative causes; it is not meant that, +to explain anything, one or other of the four must be present. In +every case of the existence or production of a thing all four causes +operate simultaneously. Moreover the same four causes are to be found +both in human and in cosmic production, in the making of manufactured +articles by man and in the production of things by nature. They are +more clearly and easily seen, however, in human production, from which +sphere, therefore, we select our example. The material cause of a +thing is the matter of which it is composed. It is the raw material +which becomes the thing. For example, in the making of a bronze statue +of Hermes, the bronze is the material cause of the statue. This +example might lead one to suppose <a name="269">{269}</a> that Aristotle means by +material cause what we call matter, physical substance, such as brass, +iron, or wood. As we shall see later, this is not necessarily the +case, though it is so in the present instance. The efficient cause is +always defined by Aristotle as the cause of motion. It is the energy +or moving force required to bring about change. It must be remembered +that by motion Aristotle means not merely change of place but change +of any sort. The alteration of a leaf from green to yellow is just as +much motion, in his sense, as the falling of a stone. The efficient +cause, then, is the cause of all change. In the example taken, what +causes the bronze to become a statue, what produces this change, is +the sculptor. He is, therefore, the efficient cause of the statue. The +formal cause Aristotle defines as the substance and essence of the +thing. Now the essence of a thing is given in its definition. But the +definition is the explication of the concept. Therefore the formal +cause is the concept, or, as Plato would call it, the Idea of the +thing. Plato's Ideas thus reappear in Aristotle as formal causes. The +final cause is the end, purpose, or aim, towards which the movement is +directed. When a statue is being produced, the end of this activity, +what the sculptor aims at, is the completed statue itself. And the +final cause of a thing in general is the thing itself, the completed +being of the object. +</p> +<p> +We can see at once how much wider this conception of causation is than +the modern conception. If we take Mill's definition of a cause as the +best expression of modern scientific ideas, we find that he defines a +cause as the "invariable and unconditional antecedent of a +phenomenon." This cuts out final causes at once. For <a name="270">{270}</a> the final +cause is the end, and is not an antecedent in time. It also does not +include formal causes. For we do not now think of the concept of a +thing as being part of its cause. This leaves us with only material +and efficient causes, and these correspond roughly to the modern +notions of matter and energy. Even the efficient causes of Aristotle, +however, appear on further consideration, to be excluded from the +modern idea of causation. For, though the efficient cause is the +energy which produces motion, modern science regards it as purely +mechanical energy, whereas Aristotle thinks of it, as we shall see, as +an ideal force, operating not from the beginning but from the end. But +it must not be supposed that, in saying that the modern idea of +causation excludes formal and final causes, we mean that Aristotle is +wrong in adding them, or that the modern idea is better than +Aristotle's. It is not a question of better and worse at all. Modern +science does not in any way deny the reality of formal and final +causes. It merely considers them to be outside its sphere. It is no +business of science whether they exist or not. As knowledge advances, +differentiation and division of labour occur. Science takes as its +province mechanical causes, and leaves formal and final causes to the +philosopher to explicate. Thus, for example, formal causes are not +considered by science because they are not, in the modern sense, +causes at all. They are what we have called reasons. If we are to +explain the existence of an object in the universe it may be necessary +to introduce formal causes, concepts, to show why the thing exists, to +show in fact its reasons. But science makes no attempt to explain the +existence of objects. It takes their <a name="271">{271}</a> existence for granted, and +seeks to trace their history and their relations to each other. +Therefore it does not require formal causes. It seeks to work out the +mechanical view of the universe, and therefore considers only +mechanical causes. But Aristotle's theory, as being philosophy rather +than science, includes both the principles of mechanism and teleology. +</p> +<p> +It was not Aristotle's habit to propound his theories as if they were +something absolutely new, sprung for the first time out of his own +brain. In attacking any problem, his custom was to begin by +enumerating current and past opinions, to criticise them, to reject +what was valueless in them, to retain the residue of truth, and to add +to it his own suggestions and original ideas. The resultant of this +process was his own theory, which he thus represented, not as +absolutely new, but as a development of the views of his predecessors. +This course he follows also in the present instance. The first book of +the "Metaphysics" is a history of all previous philosophy, from Thales +to Plato, undertaken with the object of investigating how far the four +causes had been recognized by his predecessors. The material cause, he +says, had been recognized from the first. The Ionics believed in this +and no other cause. They sought to explain everything by matter, +though they differed among themselves as to the nature of the material +cause, Thales describing it as water, Anaximenes as air. Later +philosophers also gave different accounts of it, Heracleitus thinking +it was fire, Empedocles the four elements, Anaxagoras an indefinite +number of kinds of matter. But the point is that they all recognized +the necessity for a material cause of some sort to explain the +universe. +</p> +<p> +<a name="272">{272}</a> +</p> +<p> +The earliest thinkers, then, the Ionics, assumed only this one cause. +But as thought advanced, says Aristotle, and other philosophers came +upon the scene, "the thing itself guided them." It was seen that a +second cause was necessary to explain the motion and becoming of +things. For matter itself does not produce its motion. Wood is not the +cause of its becoming a bed, nor is brass the cause of its becoming a +statue. Hence arose the idea of the efficient cause. The Eleatics did +not recognize it, for they denied motion, and for them, therefore, no +cause of motion could be assumed. But Parmenides, Aristotle thinks, +wavered on this point, somehow allowing vaguely the existence of a +second cause, which he denominated the hot and the cold. The reference +is, of course, to the second part of the poem of Parmenides. Other +philosophers clearly assumed an efficient cause, for they thought that +one element, for example, fire, is more active, that is, more +productive of motion, than others. Empedocles certainly attained to +the idea of an efficient cause, for he named as moving forces, harmony +and discord, love and hate. Anaxagoras also, used Nous as a moving +force. +</p> +<p> +Formal causes had, perhaps, been recognized by the Pythagoreans, for +numbers are forms. But they straightway degraded the formal cause to +the level of a material cause by declaring that number is the stuff or +matter of which things are made. Plato alone clearly saw the necessity +for the formal cause, for formal causes are, as we have seen, the same +as Plato's Ideas. But Plato's philosophy contains only two of the four +causes, namely the material and the formal, for Plato made all things +out of matter and the Ideas. Since the Ideas have in them <a name="273">{273}</a> no +principle of motion, Plato's system contains no efficient cause. As +for final causes, Plato had indeed the vague idea that everything is +for the sake of the Good, but he makes no use of this conception and +does not develop it. Final causes were introduced into philosophy by +Anaxagoras, whose doctrine of the world forming mind was assumed to +explain the design and purpose which the universe exhibits. But as his +system developed he forgot about this, and used the Nous merely as a +piece of mechanism to explain motion, thus letting it sink into +nothing more than an efficient cause. +</p> +<p> +In the result, Aristotle finds that all four causes have been +recognized in greater or lesser degrees by his predecessors, and this, +in his opinion, greatly reinforces his own doctrine. But whereas +material and efficient causes have been clearly understood, his +predecessors had only vaguely foreshadowed and dimly perceived the +value of formal and final causes. +</p> +<p> +The next step in Aristotle's metaphysics is to reduce these four +principles to two, which he calls matter and form. This reduction +takes place by showing that formal cause, efficient cause, and final +cause, all melt into the single conception of form. In the first +place, the formal cause and the final cause are the same. For the +formal cause is the essence, the concept, the Idea, of the thing. Now +the final cause, or the end, is simply the realisation of the Idea of +the thing in actuality. What the thing aims at is the definite +expression of its form. It thus aims at its form. Its end, final +cause, is thus the same as its formal cause. Secondly, the efficient +cause is the same as the final cause. For the efficient cause is the +cause of becoming. The final cause is the end of <a name="274">{274}</a> the becoming, +it is what it becomes. And, in Aristotle's opinion, what causes the +becoming is just that it aims at the end. The striving of all things +is towards the end, and exists because of the end. The end is thus +itself the cause of becoming or motion. That is to say, the final +cause is the real efficient cause. We may see this better by an +example. The end or final cause of the acorn is the oak. And it is the +oak which is the cause of the acorn's growth, which consists +essentially in a movement by which the acorn is drawn towards its end, +the oak. We may see this even more definitely in the case of human +productions, because here the striving towards an end is conscious, +whereas in nature it is unconscious or instinctive. The efficient +cause of the statue is the sculptor. It is he that moves the brass. +But what moves the sculptor, and causes him to act upon the brass, is +the idea of the completed statue in his mind. The idea of the end, the +final cause, is thus the real ultimate cause of the movement. Only, in +the case of human production, the idea of the end is actually present +in the sculptor's mind as a motive. In nature there is no mind in +which the end is conscious of itself, but nevertheless nature moves +towards the end, and the end is the cause of the movement. Thus the +three causes named all melt into a single notion, which Aristotle +calls the form of the thing. And this leaves only the material cause +unreduced to any other. So we are left with the single antithesis of +matter and form. +</p> +<p> +Now as matter and form are the fundamental categories of Aristotle's +philosophy, by means of which he seeks to explain the entire universe, +it is essential that we should thoroughly understand their +characteristics. <a name="275">{275}</a> First of all, matter and form are inseparable. +We think of them as separate in order to understand them clearly. And +this is quite right, because they are opposite principles, and +therefore they are separable in thought. But they are never separable +in fact. There is no such thing as form without matter, or matter +without form. Every existent thing, that is, every individual object, +is a compound of matter and form. We may compare them in this respect +to the material and the shape of a thing, though we must be careful +not to think that form is merely shape. Geometry considers shapes as +if they existed by themselves. But, in fact, we know that there are no +such things as squares, circles, and triangles. There are only square +objects, circular objects, etc. And as there are no shapes without +objects, so there are no objects without shapes. We talk of things +being "shapeless," but this only means that their shape is irregular +or unusual. Some shape an object must have. Yet, though shape and +matter are inseparable in fact, they are opposite principles, and are +separable in thought. Geometry is quite right to treat shapes as if +they existed by themselves, but it is nevertheless dealing with mere +abstractions. Just in the same way, matter and form are never apart, +and to think of form by itself or matter by itself is a mere +abstraction. No such thing exists. In fact, to imagine that forms can +exist by themselves was just the mistake of which, as we have seen, +Aristotle accuses Plato. For the form is the Idea, and Plato imagined +that Ideas exist in a world of their own. +</p> +<p> +From this, too, we can see that the form is the universal, the matter +the particular. For the form is the Idea, and the Idea is the +universal. To say that form and <a name="276">{276}</a> matter cannot exist apart is +thus the same as saying that the universal only exists in the +particular, which, as we have seen, is the fundamental note of +Aristotle's philosophy. But if we thus identify matter with the +particular element in things, we must be careful that we do not +confuse the particular with the individual. We often use these two +words as practically synonymous, and there is no harm in this, but +here we must be careful to separate them. For every individual is, +according to Aristotle, a compound of matter and form, of the +particular and the universal. And when we say that matter is the +particular, we mean, not that it is such a compound, but that it is +the absolutely particular which has no universal in it. But the +absolutely particular and isolated does not exist. A piece of gold, +for instance, only exists by virtue of its properties, yellowness, +heaviness, etc., and these qualities are just what it has in common +with other things. So that the particular, as such, has no existence, +but this is only the same as saying, what we have already said, that +matter has no existence apart from form. +</p> +<p> +A very natural mistake would be to suppose that by matter Aristotle +meant the same as we do, namely, physical substance, such as wood or +iron, and that by form he meant simply shape. Now although there is a +kinship in the ideas, these two pairs of ideas are far from identical. +Let us begin with matter. Our ordinary idea of matter as physical +substance is an absolute conception. That is to say, a thing which we +call material is absolutely, once and for all, matter. It is not +material from one point of view, and immaterial from another. In every +possible relation it is, and <a name="277">{277}</a> remains, matter. Nor does it in +process of time cease to be matter. Brass never becomes anything but +matter. No doubt there are in nature changes of one sort of matter +into another, for example, radium into helium. And for all we know, +brass may become lead. But even so, it does not cease to be matter. +But Aristotle's conception of matter is a relative conception. Matter +and form are fluid. They flow into one another. The same thing, from +one point of view, is matter, from another, form. In all change, +matter is that which becomes, that upon which the change is wrought. +That is form towards which the change operates. What becomes is +matter. What it becomes is form. Thus wood is matter if considered in +relation to the bed. For it is what becomes the bed. But wood is form +if considered in relation to the growing plant. For it is what the +plant becomes. The oak is the form of the acorn, but it is the matter +of the oak furniture. +</p> +<p> +That matter and form are relative terms shows, too, that the form +cannot be merely the shape. For what is form in one aspect is matter +in another. But shape is never anything but shape. No doubt the shape +is part of the form, for the form in fact includes all the qualities +of the thing. But the shape is quite an unimportant part of the form. +For form includes organization, the relation of part to part, and the +subordination of all parts to the whole. The form is the sum of the +internal and external relations, the ideal framework, so to speak, +into which the thing is moulded. Form also includes function. For it +includes the final cause. Now the function of a thing is just what the +thing is for. And what it is for is the same as its end, or final +cause. <a name="278">{278}</a> Therefore function is included in form. For example, the +function of a hand, its power of gripping, is part of its form. And +therefore, if it loses its function by being cut off from the arm, it +likewise loses its form. Even the dead hand, of course, has some form, +for every individual object is a compound of matter and form. But it +has lost the highest part of its form, and relatively to the living +hand it is mere matter, although, relatively to the flesh and bones of +which it is composed, it is still form. Clearly, then, form is not +merely shape. For the hand cut off does not lose its shape. +</p> +<p> +The form includes all the qualities of the thing. The matter is what +has the qualities. For the qualities are all universals. A piece of +gold is yellow, and this means simply that it has this in common with +other pieces of gold, and other yellow objects. To say that anything +has a quality is immediately to place it in a class. And what the +class has in common is a universal. A thing without qualities cannot +exist, nor qualities without a thing. And this is the same as saying +that form and matter cannot exist separately. +</p> +<p> +The matter, then, is the absolutely formless. It is the substratum +which underlies everything. It has, in itself, no character. It is +absolutely featureless, indefinite, without any quality. Whatever +gives a thing definiteness, character, quality, whatever makes it a +this or that, is its form. Consequently, there are no differences +within matter. One thing can only differ from another by having +different qualities. And as matter has no qualities, it has no +difference. And this in itself shows that the Aristotelian notion of +matter is not the same as our notion of physical substance. For, +according <a name="279">{279}</a> to our modern usage, one kind of matter differs from +another, as brass from iron. But this is a difference of quality, and +for Aristotle all quality is part of the form. So in his view the +difference of brass from iron is not a difference of matter, but a +difference of form. Consequently, matter may become anything, +according to the form impressed upon it. It is thus the possibility of +everything, though it is actually nothing. It only becomes something +by the acquisition of form. And this leads directly to a most +important Aristotelian antithesis, that between potentiality and +actuality. Potentiality is the same as matter, actuality as form. For +matter is potentially everything. It may become everything. It is not +actually anything. It is a mere potentiality, or capacity of becoming +something. But whatever gives it definiteness as a this or that, +whatever makes it an actual thing, is its form. Thus the actuality of +a thing is simply its form. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle claims, by means of the antithesis of potentiality and +actuality, to have solved the ancient problem of becoming, a riddle, +propounded by the Eleatics, which had never ceased to trouble Greek +thinkers. How is becoming possible? For being to pass into being is +not becoming, for it involves no change, and for not-being to pass +into being is impossible, since something cannot come out of nothing. +For Aristotle, the sharp line drawn between not-being and being does +not exist. For these absolute terms he substitutes the relative terms +potentiality and actuality, which shade off into each other. +Potentiality in his philosophy takes the place of not-being in +previous systems. It solves the riddle because it is not an absolute +not-being. It is <a name="280">{280}</a> not-being inasmuch as it is actually nothing, +but it is being because it is potential being. Becoming, therefore, +does not involve the impossible leap from nothing to something. It +involves the transition from potential to actual being. All change, +all motion, is thus the passage of potentiality into actuality, of +matter into form. +</p> +<p> +Since matter is in itself nothing, a bare unrealised capacity, while +form is actuality, the completed and perfected being, it follows that +form is something higher than matter. But matter is what becomes form. +In order of time, therefore, matter is earlier, form later. But in +order of thought, and in reality, it is otherwise. For when we say +that matter is the potentiality of what it is to become, this implies +that what it is to become is already present in it ideally and +potentially, though not actually. The end, therefore, is already +present in the beginning. The oak is in the acorn, ideally, otherwise +the oak could never come out of it. And since all becoming is towards +the end, and would not take place but for the end, the end is the +operative principle and true cause of becoming. Motion is produced not +by a mechanical propulsive force, pushing from behind, so to speak, +but by an ideal attractive force, drawing the thing towards its end, +as a piece of iron is drawn to the magnet. It is the end itself which +exerts this force. And, therefore, the end must be present at the +beginning, for if it were not present it could exert no force. Nay, +more. It is not only present in the beginning, it is anterior to it. +For the end is the cause of the motion, and the cause is logically +prior to its consequence. The end, or the principle of form, is thus +the absolute first in thought and reality, though it may be the last +in time. If, then, <a name="281">{281}</a> we ask what, for Aristotle, is that ultimate +reality, that first principle, from which the entire universe flows, +the answer is, the end, the principle of form. And as form is the +universal, the Idea, we see that his fundamental thesis is the same as +Plato's. It is the one thesis of all idealism, namely, that thought, +the universal, reason, is the absolute being, the foundation of the +world. Where he differs from Plato is in denying that form has any +existence apart from the matter in which it exhibits itself. +</p> +<p> +Now all this may strike the unsophisticated as very strange. That the +absolute being whence the universe flows should be described as that +which lies at the end of the development of the universe, and that +philosophy should proceed to justify this by asserting that the end is +really prior to the beginning, this is so far removed from the common +man's mode of thought, that it may appear mere paradox. It is, +however, neither strange nor paradoxical. It is essentially sound and +true, and it seems strange to the ordinary man only because it +penetrates so much deeper into things than he can. This thought is, in +fact, essential to a developed idealism, and till it is grasped no +advance can be made in philosophy. Whether it is understood is, +indeed, a good test of whether a man has any talent for philosophy or +not. The fact is that all philosophies of this sort regard time as +unreal, as an appearance. This being so, the relation of the absolute +being, or God, to the world cannot be a relation of time at all. The +common man's idea is that, if there is a first principle or God at +all, He must have existed before the world began, and then, somehow, +perhaps billions of years ago, something happened as a <a name="282">{282}</a> result of +which the world came into being. The Absolute is thus conceived as the +cause, the world as the effect, and the cause always precedes its +effect in time. Or if, on the other hand, we think that the world +never had a beginning, the ordinary man's thought would lead him to +believe that, in that case, it is no longer necessary to assume a +first principle at all. But if time is a mere appearance, this whole +way of looking at things must be wrong. God is not related to the +world as cause to effect. It is not a relation of time at all. It is a +<i>logical</i> relation. God is rather the logical premise, of which the +world is the conclusion, so that, God granted, the world follows +necessarily, just as, the premises granted, the conclusion follows. +This is the reason why, in discussing Plato, we said that it must be +possible to <i>deduce</i> the world from his first principle. If the +Absolute were merely the cause of the world in time, it would not +explain the world, for, as I have so often pointed out, causes explain +nothing. But if the world be deducible from the Absolute, the world is +explained, a reason, not a cause, is given for it, just as the +premises constitute the reason for the conclusion. Now the conclusion +of a syllogism follows from the premises, that is, the premises come +first, the conclusion second. But the premise only comes first in +thought, not in time. It is a logical succession, not a +time-succession. Just in the same way, the Absolute, or in Aristotle's +language, the form, is logically first, but is not first in order of +time. And though it is the end, it is in thought the absolute +beginning, and is thus the foundation of the world, the first +principle from which the world flows. The objection may be, taken that +if the relation of the <a name="283">{283}</a> Absolute to the world is not a +time-relation, then it can no more be the end than the beginning. This +objection is, as we shall see, a misunderstanding of Aristotle's +philosophy. Although things in time strive towards the end, yet the +absolute end is not in time at all, or, in other words, the end is +never reached. Its relation to the world as end is just as much a +logical, and not a time-relation, as its relation to the world as +beginning or absolute prius. As far as time is concerned, the universe +is without beginning or end. +</p> +<p> +As the world-process is a continual elevation of matter into higher +and higher forms, there results the conception that the universe +exhibits a continuous scale of being. That is higher in the scale in +which form predominates, that lower in which matter outweighs form. At +the bottom of the scale will be absolutely formless matter, at the +top, absolutely matterless form. Both these extremes, however, are +abstractions. Neither of them exists, because matter and form cannot +be separated. Whatever exists comes somewhere between the two, and the +universe thus exhibits a process of continuous gradations. Motion and +change are produced by the effort to pass from the lower to the higher +under the attractive force of the end. +</p> +<p> +That which comes at the top of the scale, absolute form, is called by +Aristotle, God. And the definitions of God's character follow from +this as a matter of course. First, since form is actuality, God alone +is absolutely actual. He alone is real. All existent things are more +or less unreal. The higher in the scale are the more real, as +possessing more form. The scale of being is thus also a scale of +reality, shading off through infinite gradations <a name="284">{284}</a> from the +absolutely real, God, to the absolutely unreal, formless matter. +Secondly, since the principle of form contains the formal, the final, +and the efficient causes, God is all these. As formal cause, He is the +Idea. He is essentially thought, reason. As final cause, He is the +absolute end. He is that to which all beings strive. Each being has no +doubt its own end in itself. But as absolute end, God includes all +lower ends. And as the end of each thing is the completed perfection +of the thing, so, as absolute end, God is absolute perfection. Lastly, +as efficient cause, God is the ultimate cause of all motion and +becoming. He is the first mover. As such, He is Himself unmoved. That +the first mover should be itself unmoved is a necessary consequence of +Aristotle's conception of it as end and form. For motion is the +transition of a thing towards its end. The absolute end can have no +end beyond it, and therefore cannot be moved. Likewise motion is the +passage of matter into form. Absolute form cannot pass into any higher +form, and is therefore unmoved. But the argument which Aristotle +himself more frequently uses to establish the immovability of the +first mover is that, unless we so conceive it, no cause of motion +appears. The moving object is moved perhaps by another moving object. +The motion of the latter demands a further cause. If this further +cause is itself moving, we must again ask for the cause of its motion. +If this process goes on for ever, then motion is unexplained, and no +real cause of it has been shown. The real and ultimate cause must +therefore be unmoved. +</p> +<p> +This last argument sounds as if Aristotle is now thinking in terms of +mechanism. It sounds as if he meant that <a name="285">{285}</a> the first mover is +something at the beginning of time, which, so to speak, gave things a +push to start them off. This is not what Aristotle means. For the true +efficient cause is the final cause. And God is the first mover only in +His character as absolute end. As far as time is concerned, neither +the universe, nor the motion in it, ever had any beginning. Every +mechanical cause has its cause in turn, and so <i>ad infinitum</i>. God is +not a first cause, in our sense, that is, a first mechanical cause +which existed before the world, and created it. He is a teleological +cause working from the end. But as such, He is logically prior to all +beginning, and so is the first mover. And just as the universe has no +beginning in time, so it has no end in time. It will go on for ever. +Its end is absolute form, but this can never be reached, because if it +were, this would mean that absolute form would exist, whereas we have +seen that form cannot exist apart from matter. +</p> +<p> +God is thought. But the thought of what? As absolute form, he is not +the form of matter, but the form of form. His matter, so to speak, is +form. Form, as the universal, is thought. And this gives us +Aristotle's famous definition of God as "the thought of thought." He +thinks only his own self. He is at once the subject and the object of +his thought. As mortal men think material things, as I now think the +paper on which I write, so God thinks thought. In more modern terms, +he is self-consciousness, the absolute subject-object. That God should +think anything other than thought is inconceivable, because the end of +all other thought is outside the thought itself. If I think this +paper, the end of my thought, the paper, is outside me. But the +thought of <a name="286">{286}</a> God, as the absolute end, cannot have any end outside +itself. Were God to think anything else than thought, he would be +determined by that which is not himself. By way of further expression +of the same idea, Aristotle passes into figurative language. God, he +says, lives in eternal blessedness, and his blessedness consists in +the everlasting contemplation of his own perfection. +</p> +<p> +A modern will naturally ask whether Aristotle's God is personal. It +does not do to be very dogmatic upon the point. Aristotle, like Plato, +never discusses the question. No Greek ever did. It is a modern +question. What we have to do, then, is to take the evidence on both +sides. The case for personality is that the language Aristotle uses +implies it. The very word God, used instead of the Absolute, or form, +conveys the idea of personality. And when he goes on to speak of God +living in eternal blessedness, these words, if taken literally, can +mean nothing except that God is a conscious person. If we say that +this language is merely figurative, it may be replied that Aristotle +on principle objects to figurative language, that he frequently +censures Plato for using it, that what he demands and sets out to +supply is exact, literal, scientific terminology, and that he is not +likely to have broken his own canons of philosophic expression by +using merely poetical phrases. +</p> +<p> +To see the other side of the case, we must first ask what personality +means. Now without entering into an intricate discussion of this most +elusive idea, we may answer that personality at any rate implies an +<i>individual</i> and <i>existent</i> consciousness. +But, in the first place, God is +absolute form, and form is the universal. What is universal, with no +particular in it, cannot be an individual. <a name="287">{287}</a> God, therefore, +cannot be individual. Secondly, form without matter cannot exist. And +as God is form without matter, he cannot be called existent, though he +is absolutely real. God, therefore, is neither existent nor +individual. And this means that he is not a person. To degrade the +real to the level of the existent, to convert the universal into the +individual, is exactly the fault for which Aristotle blames Plato. It +is exactly the fault which it was the whole object of his philosophy +to remedy. If he thought that God is a person, he committed the same +fault himself in an aggravated form. +</p> +<p> +We have, then, two hypotheses, both of which involve that Aristotle +was guilty of some inconsistency. If God is not a person, then +Aristotle's language is figurative, and his use of such language is +inconsistent with his rooted objection to its use. This, however, is, +after all, merely an inconsistency of language, and not of thought. It +does not mean that Aristotle really contradicted himself. It merely +means that, though he set himself to express his philosophy in +technical scientific terms, and to exclude figurative language, yet he +found himself compelled in a few passages to make use of it. There are +some metaphysical ideas so abstract, so abstruse, that it is almost +impossible to express them at all without the use of figures of +speech. Language was made by common men for common purposes, and this +fact often forces the philosopher to use terms which he knows only +figure forth his meaning without accurately expressing it. Perhaps +every philosophy in the world finds itself sometimes under this +necessity, and, if Aristotle did so, and was thereby technically +inconsistent with himself, it is no wonder, and involves no serious +blame upon him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="288">{288}</a> +</p> +<p> +But the other hypothesis, that God is a person, means that Aristotle +committed a contradiction, not merely in words, but in thought, and +not merely as regards some unimportant detail, but as regards the +central thesis of his system. It means that he stultified himself by +making his conception of God absolutely contradict the essentials of +his system. For what is the whole of Aristotle's philosophy, put in a +nutshell? It is that the Absolute is the universal, but that the +universal does not exist apart from the particular. Plato supplied the +thought of the first clause of the sentence. Aristotle added the last +clause, and it is the essential of his philosophy. To assert that God, +the absolute form, exists as an individual, is flatly to contradict +this. It is not likely that Aristotle should have contradicted himself +in so vital a matter, and in a manner which simply means that his +system falls to the ground like a house of cards. +</p> +<p> +My conclusion, then, is that it was not Aristotle's intention that +what he calls God should be regarded as a person. God is thought, but +not subjective thought. He is not thought existent in a mind, but +objective thought, real on its own account, apart from any mind which +thinks it, like Plato's Ideas. But Plato's mistake was to suppose that +because thought is real and objective, it must exist. Aristotle avoids +this error. The absolute thought is the absolutely real. But it does +not exist. With the concept of God the metaphysics of Aristotle +closes. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +4. Physics, or the Philosophy of Nature. +</p> +<p> +The existent universe is a scale of being lying between the two +extremes of formless matter and matterless form. But this must not be +merely asserted, as a general <a name="289">{289}</a> principle. It must be carried out +in detail. The passage of matter into form must be shown in its +various stages in the world of nature. To do this is the object of +Aristotle's Physics, or philosophy of nature. +</p> +<p> +If nature is to be understood, we must keep in mind certain general +points of view. In the first place, since form includes end, the +entire world-process, as passage of matter into form, is essentially +movement towards ends. Everything in nature has its end and function. +Nothing is purposeless. Nature seeks everywhere to attain the best +possible. Everywhere we find evidences of design and of rational plan. +Aristotle's philosophy of nature is essentially teleological. This +does not, however, exclude the principle of mechanism, and to +investigate mechanical causes is part of the duty of science. But +mechanical causes turn out in the end to be teleological, because the +true efficient cause is the final cause. +</p> +<p> +But if nothing in nature is aimless or useless, this is not to be +interpreted in a narrow anthropocentric spirit. It does not mean that +everything exists for the use of man, that the sun was created to give +him light by day, the moon by night, and that plants and animals exist +only for his food. It is true that, in a certain sense, everything +else sublunary is <i>for</i> man. For man is the highest in the scale of +beings in this terrestrial sphere, and therefore as the higher end, he +includes all lower ends. But this does not exclude the fact that lower +beings have each its own end. They exist for themselves and not for +us. +</p> +<p> +Another mistake which we must avoid is to suppose that the design in +nature means that nature is conscious of her designs, or, on the other +hand, that there is any <a name="290">{290}</a> existent consciousness outside the world +which governs and controls it. The latter supposition is excluded by +the fact that God is not an existent conscious person, the former by +its own inherent absurdity. The only being upon this earth who is +conscious of his ends is man. Such animals as bees and ants appear to +work rationally, and their activities are clearly governed by design. +But it is not to be supposed that they are reasoning beings. They +attain their ends instinctively. And when we come to inorganic matter, +we find that even here its movements are purposive, but no one could +suppose them deliberate and conscious. These manifold activities of +lower nature are indeed the work of reason, but not of an existent or +self-conscious reason. And this means that instinct, and even +mechanical forces such as gravitation are, in their essence, reason. +It is not that they are created by reason, but that they are reason, +exhibiting itself in lower forms. In commenting upon Plato's dualism +of sense and reason, I remarked that any true philosophy, though +recognizing the distinction between sense and reason, must yet find +room for their identity, and must show that sense is but a lower form +of reason. This idea Aristotle thoroughly understood, and sought to +show, not merely that sense is reason, but even that the activities of +inorganic matter, such as gravitation, are so. In the result, nature, +though working through reason, is not conscious of the fact, does so +blindly and instinctively, and is compared to a creative artist, who +forms beautiful objects by instinct, or, as we should say, by +inspiration, without setting before his mind the end to be attained or +the rules to be observed in order to attain it. +</p> +<p> +<a name="291">{291}</a> +</p> +<p> +In the process of nature, it is always form which impels, matter which +retards and obstructs. The entire world-movement is the effort of form +to mould matter, but, just because matter has in itself a power of +resistance, this effort does not always succeed. This is the reason +why form cannot exist without matter, because it can never wholly +overcome the clogging activity of matter, and therefore matter can +never be wholly moulded into form. And this explains, too, the +occasional occurrence in nature of freaks, monstrosities, abortions, +and unnatural births. In these the form has failed to mould the +matter. Nature has failed to attain her ends. Science, therefore, +should study the normal and natural rather than the abnormal and +monstrous. For it is in the normal that the ends of nature are to be +seen, and through them alone nature can be understood. Aristotle is +fond of using the words "natural" and "unnatural," but he uses them +always with this special meaning. That is natural which attains its +end, that in which the form successfully masters the matter. +</p> +<p> +No doctrine of physics can ignore the fundamental notions of motion, +space, and time. Aristotle, therefore, finds it necessary to consider +these. Motion is the passage of matter into form, and it is of four +kinds. The first is motion which affects the substance of a thing, +origination and decease. Secondly, change of quality. Thirdly, change +of quantity, increase and decrease. Fourthly, locomotion, change of +place. Of these, the last is the most fundamental and important. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle rejects the definition of space as the void. Empty space is +an impossibility. Hence, too, he disagrees with the view of Plato and +the Pythagoreans that <a name="292">{292}</a> the elements are composed of geometrical +figures. And connected with this is his repudiation of the mechanical +hypothesis that all quality is founded upon quantity, or upon +composition and decomposition. Quality has a real existence of its +own. He rejects, also, the view that space is a physical thing. If +this were true, there would be two bodies occupying the same place at +the same time, namely the object and the space it fills. Hence there +is nothing for it but to conceive space as limit. Space is, therefore, +defined as the limit of the surrounding body towards what is +surrounded. As we shall see later, in another connexion, Aristotle did +not regard space as infinite. +</p> +<p> +Time is defined as the measure of motion in regard to what is earlier +and later. It thus depends for its existence upon motion. If there +were no change in the universe, there would be no time. And since it +is the measuring or counting of motion, it also depends for its +existence upon a counting mind. If there were no mind to count, there +could be no time. This presents difficulties to us, if we conceive +that there was a time when conscious beings did not exist. But this +difficulty is non-existent for Aristotle, who believed that men and +animals have existed from all eternity. The essentials of time, +therefore, are two: change and consciousness. Time is the succession +of thoughts. If we object that the definition is bad because +succession already involves time, there is doubtless no answer +possible. +</p> +<p> +As to the infinite divisibility of space and time, and the riddles +proposed thereupon by Zeno, Aristotle is of opinion that space and +time are potentially divisible <a name="293">{293}</a> <i>ad infinitum</i>, but are not +actually so divided. There is nothing to prevent us from going on for +ever with the process of division, but space and time are not given in +experience as infinitely divided. +</p> +<p> +After these preliminaries, we can pass on to consider the main subject +of physics, the scale of being. We should notice, in the first place, +that it is also a scale of values. What is higher in the scale of +being is of more worth, because the principle of form is more advanced +in it. It constitutes also a theory of development, a philosophy of +evolution. The lower develops into the higher. It does not, however, +so develop in time. That the lower form passes in due time into a +higher form is a discovery of modern times. Such a conception was +impossible for Aristotle. For him, genus and species are eternal. They +have neither beginning nor end. Individual men are born and die, but +the species man never dies, and has always existed upon the earth. The +same is true of plants and animals. And since man has always existed, +he cannot have evolved in time from a lower being. There is no room +here for Darwinism. In what sense, then, is this a theory of +development or evolution? The process involved is not a time-process, +it is a logical process, and the development is a logical development. +The lower always contains the higher potentially. The man is in the +ape ideally. The higher, again, contains the lower actually. The man +is all that the ape is, and more also. What is merely implicit in the +lower form is explicit in the higher. The form which is dimly seen +struggling to light in the lower, has realized itself in the higher. +The higher is the same thing as the lower, but it is the same thing in +a more <a name="294">{294}</a> evolved state. The higher presupposes the lower and rests +upon it as foundation. The higher is the form of which the lower is +the matter. It actually is what the lower is struggling to become. +Hence the entire universe is one continuous chain. It is a process; +not a time-process, but an eternal process. The one ultimate reality, +God, reason, absolute form, eternally exhibits itself in every stage +of its development. All the stages, therefore, must exist for ever +side by side. +</p> +<p> +Now the form of a thing is its organization. Hence to be higher in the +scale means to be more organized. The first distinction, therefore, +with which nature presents us is between the organic and the +inorganic. Aristotle was the discoverer of the idea of organism, as he +was also the inventor of the word. At the bottom of the scale of +being, therefore, is inorganic matter. Inorganic matter is the nearest +existent thing to absolutely formless matter, which, of course, does +not exist. In the inorganic world matter preponderates to such an +extent as almost to overwhelm form, and we can only expect to see the +universal exhibiting itself in it in a vague and dim way. What, then, +is its form? And this is the same as asking what its function, end, or +essential activity is. The end of inorganic matter is merely external +to it. Form has not truly entered into it at all, and remains outside +it. Hence the activity of inorganic matter can only be to move in +space towards its external end. This is the explanation of what we, in +modern times, call gravitation. But, according to Aristotle, every +element has its peculiar and natural motion; its end is conceived +merely spatially, and its activity is to move towards its "proper +place," and, having thus reached its end, it rests. The natural <a name="295">{295}</a> +movement of fire is up. We may call this a principle of levitation, as +opposed to gravitation. Aristotle has been the subject of cheap +criticism on account of his frequent use of the words "natural" and +"unnatural." [Footnote 15] It is said that he was satisfied to explain +the operations of nature by simply labelling them "natural." If you +ask a quite uneducated person why heavy bodies fall, he may quite +possibly reply, "Oh! <i>naturally</i> they fall." This simply means that +the man has never thought about the matter at all, and thinks whatever +is absolutely familiar to him is "natural" and needs no explanation. +It is like the feminine argument that a thing is so, "because it is." +It is assumed that Aristotle was guilty of a like futility. This is +not the case. His use of the word "natural" does not indicate lack of +thought. There is a thought, an idea, here. No doubt he was quite +wrong in many of his facts. Thus there is no such principle as +levitation in the universe. But there is a principle of gravitation, +and when he explains this by saying it is "natural" for earth to move +downwards, he means, not that the fact is familiar, but that the +principle of form, or the world-reason, can only exhibit itself here +so dimly as to give rise to a comparatively aimless and purposeless +movement in a straight line. Not absolutely purposeless, however, +because nothing in the world is such, and the purpose here is simply +the movement of matter towards its end. This may or may not be a true +explanation of gravity. But has anybody since ever explained it +better? +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 15: See, <i>e.g.</i> Sir Alexander Grant's <i>Aristotle</i> in the +Ancient Classics for English Readers Series (Blackwood), pages +119-121.] +</p> +<p> +This gives us, too, the clue to the distinction between <a name="296">{296}</a> the +inorganic and the organic. If inorganic matter is what has its end +outside itself, organic matter will be what has its end within itself. +This is the essential character of an organism, that its end is +internal to it. It is an inward self-developing principle. Its +function, therefore, can only be the actualisation, the +self-realization of this inward end. Whereas, therefore, inorganic +matter has no activity except spatial movement, organic matter has for +its activity growth, and this growth is not the mere mechanical +addition of extraneous matter, as we add a pound of tea to a pound of +tea. It is true growth from within. It is the making outward of what +is inward. It is the making explicit of what is implicit. It is the +making actual of what is potential in the embryo organism. +</p> +<p> +The lowest in the scale of being is thus inorganic matter, and above +it comes organic matter, in which the principle of form becomes real +and definite as the inward organization of the thing. This inward +organization is the life, or what we call the soul, of the organism. +Even the human soul is nothing but the organization of the body. It +stands to the body in the relation of form to matter. With organism, +then, we reach the idea of living soul. But this living soul will +itself have lower and higher grades of being, the higher being a +higher realization of the principle of form. As the essential of +organism is self-realization, this will express itself first as +self-preservation. Self-preservation means first the preservation of +the individual, and this gives the function of nutrition. Secondly, it +means preservation of the species, and this gives the function of +propagation. The lowest grade in the organic kingdom will, therefore, +be <a name="297">{297}</a> those organisms whose sole functions are to nourish +themselves, grow, and propagate their kind. These are plants. And we +may sum up this by saying that plants possess the nutritive soul. +Aristotle intended to write a treatise upon plants, which intention, +however, he never carried out. All that we have from him on plants is +scattered references in his other books. Had the promised treatise +been forthcoming, we cannot doubt what its plan would have been. +Aristotle would have shown, as he did in the case of animals, that +there are higher and lower grades of organism within the plant +kingdom, and he would have attempted to trace the development in +detail through all the then known species of plants. +</p> +<p> +Next above plants in the scale of being come animals. Since the higher +always contains the lower, but exhibits a further realization of form +peculiar to itself, animals share with plants the functions of +nutrition and propagation. What is peculiar to them, the point in +which they rise above plants, is the possession of sensation. +Sense-perception is therefore the special function of animals, and +they possess, therefore, the nutritive and the sensitive souls. With +sensation come pleasure and pain, for pleasure is a pleasant +sensation, and pain the opposite. Hence arises the impulse to seek the +pleasant and avoid the painful. This can only be achieved by the power +of movement. Most animals, accordingly, have the power of locomotion, +which is not possessed by plants, because they do not require it, +since they are not sensitive to pleasure and pain. In his books upon +animals Aristotle attempts to carry out the principle of development +in detail, showing what are the higher, and what the lower, animal +organisms. This he connects with the <a name="298">{298}</a> methods of propagation +employed by different animals. Sex-generation is the mark of a higher +organism than parthenogenesis. +</p> +<p> +The scale of being proceeds from animals to man. The human organism, +of course, contains the principles of all lower organisms. Man +nourishes himself, grows, propagates his kind, moves about, and is +endowed with sense-perception. But he must have in addition his own +special function, which constitutes his advance beyond the animals. +This is reason. Reason is the essential, the proper end and activity +of man. His soul is nutritive, sensitive, and rational. In man, +therefore, the world-reason which could only appear in inorganic +matter as gravitation and levitation, in plants as nutrition, in +animals as sensation, appears at last in its own proper form, as what +it essentially is, reason. The world-reason, so long struggling +towards the light, has reached it, has become actual, has become +existent, in man. The world-process has attained its proximate end. +</p> +<p> +Within human consciousness there are lower and higher grades, and +Aristotle has taken great pains to trace these from the bottom to the +top. These stages of consciousness are what are ordinarily called +"faculties." But Aristotle notes that it is nonsense to talk, as Plato +did, of the "parts" of the soul. The soul, being a single indivisible +being, has no parts. They are different aspects of the activity of one +and the same being; different stages of its development. They can no +more be separated than the convex and concave aspects of a curve. The +lowest faculty, if we must use that word, is sense-perception. Now +what we perceive in a thing is its qualities. Perception tells us that +a piece of gold is <a name="299">{299}</a> heavy, yellow, etc. The underlying substratum +which supports the qualities cannot be perceived. This means that the +matter is unknowable, the form knowable, for the qualities are part of +the form. Sense-perception, therefore, takes place when the object +stamps its form upon the soul. This is important for what it implies +rather than what it states. It shows the thoroughly idealistic trend +of Aristotle's thought. For if the form is what is knowable in a +thing, the more form there is, the more knowable it will be. Absolute +form, God, will be the absolutely knowable. That the Absolute is what +alone is completely knowable, intelligible, and comprehensible, and +the finite and material comparatively unknowable, is a point of view +essential to idealism, and stands in marked contrast to the popular +idea of rationalism that the Absolute is unknowable, and matter +knowable. For idealism, the Absolute is reason, thought. What can be +more thoroughly intelligible than reason? What can thought +understand, if not thought? This, of course, is not stated by +Aristotle. But it is implied in his theory of sense-perception. +</p> +<p> +Next in the scale above the senses comes the common sense. This has +nothing to do with what we understand by that phrase in every-day +language. It means the central sensation-ganglion in which isolated +sensations meet, are combined, and form a unity of experience. We saw, +in considering Plato, that the simplest kind of knowledge, such as, +"this paper is white," involves, not only isolated sensations, but +their comparison and contrast. Bare sensations would not even make +objects. For every object is a combined bundle of sensations. What +thus combines the various sensations, and in <a name="300">{300}</a> particular those +received from different sense-organs, what compares and contrasts +them, and turns them from a blind medley of phantasms into a definite +experience, a single cosmos, is the common sense. Its organ is the +heart. +</p> +<p> +Above the common sense is the faculty of imagination. By this +Aristotle means, not the creative imagination of the artist, but the +power, which everyone possesses, of forming mental images and +pictures. This is due to the excitation in the sense-organ continuing +after the object has ceased to affect it. +</p> +<p> +The next faculty is memory. This is the same as imagination, except +that there is combined with the image a recognition of it as a copy of +a past sense-impression. +</p> +<p> +Recollection, again, is higher than memory. Memory images drift +purposelessly through the mind. Recollection is the deliberate evoking +of memory-images. +</p> +<p> +From recollection we pass to the specifically human faculty of reason. +But reason itself has two grades. The lower is called passive reason, +the higher active reason. The mind has the power of thought before it +actually thinks. This latent capacity is passive reason. The mind is +here like a smooth piece of wax which has the power to receive +writing, but has not received it. The positive activity of thought +itself is active reason. The comparison with wax must not mislead us +into supposing that the soul only receives its impressions from +sensation. It is pure thought which writes upon the wax. +</p> +<p> +Now the sum of the faculties in general we call the soul. And the +soul, we saw, is simply the organization <a name="301">{301}</a> or form, of the body. +As form is inseparable from matter, the soul cannot exist without the +body. It is the function of the body. It is to the body what sight is +to the eye. And in the same sense Aristotle denies the doctrine of +Pythagoras and Plato that the soul reincarnates itself in new bodies, +particularly in the bodies of animals. What is the function of one +thing cannot become the function of another. Exactly what the soul is +to the body the music of the flute is to the flute itself. It is the +form of which the flute is the matter. It is, to speak metaphorically, +the soul of the flute. And you might as well talk, says Aristotle, of +the art of flute-playing becoming reincarnate in the blacksmith's +anvil, as of the soul passing into another body. This would seem also +to preclude any doctrine of immortality. For the function perishes +with the thing. We shall return to that point in a moment. But we may +note, meanwhile, that Aristotle's theory of the soul is not only a +great advance upon Plato's, but is a great advance upon popular +thinking of the present day. The ordinary view of the soul, which was +Plato's view, is that the soul is a sort of thing. No doubt it is +non-material and supersensuous. But still it is a thing; it can be put +into a body and taken out of it, as wine can be put into or taken out +of a bottle. The connection between body and soul is thus purely +mechanical. They are attached to each other by no necessary bond, but +rather by force. They have, in their own natures, no connexion with +each other, and it is difficult to see why the soul ever entered a +body, if it is in its nature something quite separate. But Aristotle's +view is that the soul, as form of the body, is not separable from it. +You cannot have <a name="302">{302}</a> a soul without a body. The connection between +them is not mechanical, but organic. The soul is not a thing which +comes into the body and goes out of it. It is not a thing at all. It +is a function. +</p> +<p> +But to this doctrine Aristotle makes an exception in favour of the +active reason. All the lower faculties perish with the body, including +the passive reason. Active reason is imperishable and eternal. It has +neither beginning nor end. It comes into the body from without, and +departs from it at death. God being absolute reason, man's reason +comes from God, and returns to him, after the body ceases to function. +But before we hail this as a doctrine of personal immortality, we had +best reflect. All the lower faculties perish at death, and this +includes memory. Now memory is an essential of personality. Without +memory our experiences would be a succession of isolated sensations, +with no connecting link. What connects my last with my present +experience is that my last experience was "mine." To be mine it must +be remembered. Memory is the string upon which isolated experiences +are strung together, and which makes them into that unity I call +myself, my personality. If memory perishes, there can be no personal +life. And it must be remembered that Aristotle does not mean merely +that, in that future life--if we persist in calling it such--the +memory of this life is obliterated. He means that in the future life +itself reason has no memory of itself from moment to moment. We cannot +be dogmatic about what Aristotle himself thought. He seems to avoid +the question. He probably shrank from disturbing popular beliefs on +the subject. We have, at any rate, no definite pronouncement from +<a name="303">{303}</a> him. All we can say is that his doctrine does not provide the +material for belief in personal immortality. It expressly removes the +material in that it denies the persistence of memory. Moreover, if +Aristotle really thought that reason is a thing, which goes in and out +of the body, an exception, in the literal sense, to his general +doctrine of soul, all we can say is that he undergoes a sudden drop in +the philosophic scale. Having propounded so advanced a theory, he +sinks back to the crude view of Plato. And as this is not likely, the +most probable explanation is that he is here speaking figuratively, +perhaps with the intention of propitiating the religious and avoiding +any rude disturbance of popular belief. If so, the statements that +active reason is immortal, comes from God, and returns to God, mean +simply that the world-reason is eternal, and that man's reason is the +actualization of this eternal reason, and in that sense "comes from +God" and returns to Him. We may add, too, that since God, though real, +is not to be regarded as an existent individual, our return to Him +cannot be thought as a continuation of individual existence. Personal +immortality is inconsistent with the fundamentals of Aristotle's +system. We ought not to suppose that he contradicted himself in this +way. Yet if Aristotle used language which seems to imply personal +immortality, this is neither meaningless nor dishonest. It is as true +for him as for others that the soul is eternal. But eternal does not +mean everlasting in time. It means timeless. And reason, even our +reason, is timeless. The soul has eternity in it. It is "eternity in +an hour." And it is this which puts the difference between man and the +brutes. +</p> +<p> +<a name="304">{304}</a> +</p> +<p> +We have traced the scale of being from inorganic matter, through +plants and animals, to man. What then? What is the next step? Or does +the scale stop there? Now there is a sort of break in Aristotle's +system at this point, which has led many to say that man is the top of +the scale. The rest of Aristotle's physics deal with what is outside +our earth, such as the stars and planets. And they deal with them +quite as if they were a different subject, having little or nothing to +do with the terrestrial scale of being which we have been considering. +But here we must not forget two facts. The first is that Aristotle's +writings have come down to us mutilated, and in many cases unfinished. +The second is that Aristotle had a curious habit of writing separate +monographs on different parts of his system, and omitting to point out +any connexion between them, although such a connexion undoubtedly +exists. +</p> +<p> +Now although Aristotle himself does not say it, there are several good +reasons for thinking that the true interpretation of his meaning is +that the scale of being does not stop at man, that there is no gap in +the chain here, but that it proceeds from man through planets and +stars--which Aristotle, like Plato, regarded as divine beings--right +up to God himself. In the first place, this is required by the logic +of his system. The scale has formless matter at the bottom and +matterless form at the top. It should proceed direct from one to the +other. It is essential to his philosophy that the universe is a single +continuous chain. There is no place for such a hiatus between man and +the higher beings. Secondly, it is not as if terrestrial life formed a +scale, and celestial beings were all on a par, having among themselves +no <a name="305">{305}</a> scale of higher and lower. This is not the case. The heavenly +bodies have grades among themselves. The higher are related to the +lower as form to matter. Thus stars are higher than planets. So that +if we suppose that evolution stops at man, what we have is a gap in +the middle, a scale below it, and a scale above it. It is like a +bridge over a sheet of water, the two ends of which are intact, but +which is broken down in the middle. The natural completion of this +scheme involves the filling up of the gap. Thirdly, we have another +very important piece of evidence. With his valuable idea of evolution +Aristotle combined another very curious, and no doubt, absurd, theory. +This was that in the scale of the universe the lowest existence is to +be found in the middle, the highest at the periphery, and that in +general the higher is always outside the lower, so that the spatial +universe is a system of concentric spheres, the outer sphere being +related to the inner sphere as higher to lower, as form to matter. At +the centre of the spherical universe is our earth. Earth, as the +lowest element, is in the middle. Then comes a layer of water, then of +air, then of fire. Among the heavenly bodies there are fifty-six +spheres. The stars are outside the planets and are therefore higher +beings. And in conformity with this scheme, the supreme being, God, is +outside the outermost sphere. Now it is obvious that, in this scheme, +the passage from the centre of the earth to the stars forms a spatial +continuity, and it is impossible to resist the conclusion that it also +forms a logical continuity, that is, that there is no break in the +chain of evolution. +</p> +<p> +Noting that this is not what Aristotle in so many words says, but that +it is our interpretation of his <a name="306">{306}</a> intention, which is almost +certainly correct, we conclude that man is not the top of the scale. +Next to him come the heavenly bodies. The planets include the sun and +the moon, which, revolve round the earth in a direction opposite to +that of the stars. Next in the scale come the stars. We need not go +into details of the fifty-six spheres. The stars and planets are +divine beings. But this is only a comparative term. Man, as the +possessor of reason, is also divine, but the heavenly bodies +infinitely more so. And this means that they are more rational than +man, and so higher in the scale. They live an absolutely blessed and +perfect life. They are immortal and eternal, because they are the +supreme self-realization of the eternal reason. It is only upon this +earth that death and corruption occur, a circumstance which has no +doubt emphasized that view of Aristotle's philosophy which holds the +gap between man and the stars to be a real one. The heavenly bodies +are not composed of the four elements, but of a fifth, a quintessence, +which is called ether. Like all elements it must have its natural +motion. And as it is the finest and most perfect, its motion must be +perfect. And it must be an eternal motion, because the stars are +eternal beings. It cannot be motion in a straight line, because that +never comes to an end, and so is never perfect. Circular motion alone +is perfect. And it is eternal because its end and its beginning are +one. Hence the natural motion of ether is circular, and the stars move +in perfect circles. +</p> +<p> +Leaving the stars behind, we reach the summit of the long ladder from +matter to form. This is the absolute form, God. As formless matter is +not an existent thing, nor is matterless form. God, therefore, is not +in the <a name="307">{307}</a> world of space and time at all. But it is one of the +curiosities of thought that Aristotle nevertheless gives him a place +outside the outermost sphere. What is outside the sphere is, +therefore, not space. All space and time are inside this globular +universe. Space is therefore finite. And God must be outside the +outermost sphere because he is the highest being, and the higher +always comes outside the lower. +</p> +<p> +We have now described the entire scale of evolution. Looking back upon +it, we can see its inner significance. The Absolute is reason, +matterless form. Everything in the world, therefore, is, in its +essence, reason. If we wish to know the essential nature even of this +clod of earth, the answer is that it is reason, although this view is +not consistently developed by Aristotle, since he allows that matter +is a separate principle which cannot be reduced to form. The whole +universal process of things is nothing but the struggle of reason to +express itself, to actualize itself, to become existent in the world. +This it definitely does, for the first time proximately in man, and +completely in the stars. It can only express itself in lower beings as +sensation (animals), as nutrition (plants), or as gravitation and its +opposite (inorganic matter). +</p> +<p> +The value of Aristotle's theory of evolution is immense. It is not the +details that signify. The application of the principle in the world of +matter and life could not be carried out satisfactorily in the then +state of physical science. It could not be carried out with perfection +even now. Omniscience alone could give finality to such a scheme. But +it is the principle itself which matters. And that it is one of the +most valuable conceptions in <a name="308">{308}</a> philosophy will perhaps be more +evident if we compare it, firstly, with modern scientific theories of +evolution and secondly, with certain aspects of Hindu pantheism. +</p> +<p> +What has Aristotle in common with such a writer a Herbert Spencer? +According to Spencer, evolution is a movement from the indefinite, +incoherent, and homogeneous, to the definite, coherent, and +heterogeneous. Aristotle has all this, though his words are different. +He calls it a movement from matter to form. Form he describes as +whatever gives definiteness to a thing. Matter is the indefinite +substrate, form gives it definiteness. Hence for him too the higher +being is more definite because it has more form. That matter is the +homogeneous, form the heterogeneous, follows from this. We saw that +there are in matter itself no differences, because there are no +qualities. And this is the same as saying it is homogeneous. +Heterogeneity, that is, differentiation, is introduced by form. +Coherence is the same thing as organization. Aristotle has himself +defined the form of a thing as its organization. For him, as for +Spencer, the higher being is simply that which is more organized. +Every theory of evolution depends fundamentally upon the idea of +organism. Aristotle invented the idea and the word. Spencer carried it +no further, though the more advanced physical knowledge of his day +enabled him to illustrate it more copiously. +</p> +<p> +But of course the great difference between Aristotle and the moderns, +is that the former did not guess, what the latter have discovered, +namely that evolution is not only a logical development, but is a fact +in time. Aristotle knew what was meant by the higher and lower +organism as well as Darwin, but he did not know, that the latter <a name="309">{309}</a> +actually turns into the former in the course of years. But this, +though the most obvious, is not really the most important difference +between Spencer and Aristotle. The real difference is that Aristotle +penetrated far more deeply into the philosophy of evolution than +modern science does; that, in fact, modern science has no philosophy +of evolution at all. For the fundamental problem here is, if we speak +of higher and lower beings, what rational ground have we for calling +them higher and lower? That the lower passes in time into the higher +is no doubt a very interesting fact to discover, but it dwindles into +insignificance beside the problem just indicated, because, on the +solution of that problem it depends whether the universe is to be +regarded as futile, meaningless, and irrational, or whether we are to +see in it order, plan, and purpose. Is Spencer's doctrine a theory of +development at all? Or is it not rather simply a theory of change? +Something resembling an ape becomes a man. Is there development here, +that is, is it a movement from something really lower to something +really higher? Or is it merely change from one indifferent thing to +another? Is there improvement, or only difference? In the latter case, +it makes not the slightest difference whether the ape becomes man, or +man becomes an ape. The one is as good as the other. In either case, +it is merely a change from Tweedledum to Tweedledee. The change is +meaningless, and has no significance. +</p> +<p> +The modern doctrine of evolution can only render the world more +intelligible, can only develop into a philosophy of evolution, by +showing that there is evolution and not merely change, and this it can +only do by <a name="310">{310}</a> giving a rational basis for the belief that some +forms of existence are higher than others. To put the matter bluntly, +why is a man higher than a horse, or a horse than a sponge? Answer +that, and you have a philosophy of evolution. Fail to answer it, and +you have none. Now the man in the street will say that man is higher +than the horse, because he not merely eats grass, but thinks, +deliberates, possesses art, science, religion, morality. Ask him why +these things are higher than eating grass, and he has no answer. From +him, then, we turn to Spencer, and there we find a sort of answer. Man +is higher because he is more organized. But why is it better to be +more organized? Science, as such, has no answer. If pressed in this +way, science may of course turn round and say: "there is in the +reality of things no higher and no lower; what I mean by higher and +lower is simply more and less organized; higher and lower are mere +metaphors; they are the human way of looking at things; we naturally +call higher what is nearest ourselves; but from the absolute point of +view there is no higher and lower." But this is to reduce the universe +to a madhouse. It means that there is no purpose, no reason, in +anything that happens. The universe, in this case, is irrational. No +explanation of it is possible. Philosophy is futile, and not only +philosophy, but morality and everything else. If there is really no +higher and lower, there is no better and no worse. It is just as good +to be a murderer as to be a saint. Evil is the same as good. Instead +of striving to be saints, statesmen, philosophers, we may as well go +and play marbles, because all these values of higher and lower are +mere delusions, "the human way of looking at things." +</p> +<p> +<a name="311">{311}</a> +</p> +<p> +Spencer then has no answer to the question why it is better to be more +organized. So we turn at last to Aristotle. He has an answer. He sees +that it is meaningless to talk of development, advance, higher and +lower, except in relation to an end. There is no such thing as advance +unless it is an advance towards something. A body moving purposelessly +in a straight line through infinite space does not advance. It might +as well be here as a mile hence. In either case it is no nearer to +anything. But if it is moving towards a definite point, we can call +this advance. Every mile it moves it gets nearer to its end. So, if we +are to have a philosophy of evolution, it must be teleological. If +nature is not advancing towards an end, there is no nearer and +further, no higher and lower, no development. What then is the end? It +is the actualization of reason, says Aristotle. The primal being is +eternal reason, but this is not existent. It must come to exist. It +first enunciates itself vaguely as gravitation. But this is far off +from its end, which is the existence of reason, as such, in the world. +It comes nearer in plants and animals. It is proximately reached in +man, for man is the existent reason. But there is no question of the +universe coming to a stop, when it reaches its end--(the usual +objection to teleology). For the absolute end, absolute form, can +never be reached. The higher is thus the more rational, the lower the +less rational. Now if we try to go on asking, "why is it better to be +more rational?" we find we cannot ask such a question. The word "why" +means that we want a reason. And our question is absurd because we are +asking a reason for reason. Why is it better to be rational means +simply, "how is reason rational." To <a name="312">{312}</a> doubt it is a +self-contradiction. Or, to put the same thing in another way, reason +is the Absolute. And to ask why it is better to be rational is to +demand that the ultimate should be expressed in terms of something +beyond it. Hence modern science has no philosophy of evolution, +whereas Aristotle has. [Footnote 16] +</p> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 16: See H. S. Macran's <i>Hegel's Doctrine of Formal Logic</i> +(Clarendon Press), Introduction, section on the Conception of +Evolution, to which I am much indebted in the above paragraphs.] +</p> +<p> +The main idea of pantheism is that everything is God. The clod of +earth is divine because it is a manifestation of Deity. Now this idea +is all very well, and is in fact essential to philosophy. We find it +in Aristotle himself, since the entire world is, for him, the +actualization of reason, and reason is God. But this is also a very +dangerous idea, if not supplemented by a rationally grounded scale of +values. No doubt everything is, in a sense, God. But if we leave it at +this, it would follow that, since everything is equally divine, there +is no higher and lower. If the clod of earth, like the saintliest man, +is God, and there is no more to say of the matter, then how is the +saint higher than the clod of earth? Why should one ever struggle +towards higher things, when in reality all are equally high? Why avoid +evil, when evil is as much a manifestation of God as good? Mere +pantheism must necessarily end in this calamitous view. And these +deplorable effects explain the fact that Hinduism, with all its high +thinking, finds room for the worship of cows and snakes, and, with all +its undoubted moral elevation, yet allows into its fold the grossest +abominations. Both these features are due to the pantheistic placing +of all things on a par as equally <a name="313">{313}</a> divine. Not of course that +Hinduism has not a sort of doctrine of evolution, a belief in a higher +and lower. As everyone knows, it admits the belief that in successive +incarnations the soul may mount higher and higher till it perhaps +rejoins the common source of all things. There is probably no race of +man so savage that it does not instinctively feel that there is a +higher and lower, a better and worse, in things. But the point is +that, although Hinduism has its scale of values, and its doctrine of +development, it has no rational foundation for these, and though it +has the idea of higher and lower, yet, because this is without +foundation, it lets it slip, it never grips the idea, and so easily +slides into the view that all is equally divine. The thought that all +is God, and the thought that there are higher and lower beings, are, +on the surface, opposed and inconsistent theories. Yet both are +necessary, and it is the business of philosophy to find a +reconciliation. This Aristotle does, but Hinduism fails to do. It +asserts both, but fails to bring them to unity. Now it asserts one +view, and again at another time it asserts the other. And this, of +course, is connected with the general defect of oriental thinking, its +vagueness. Everything is seen, but seen in a haze, in which all things +appear one, in which shapes flow into another, in which nothing has an +outline, in which even vital distinctions are obliterated. Hence it is +that, though oriental thought contains, in one way or another, +practically all philosophical ideas, it grips none, and can hold +nothing fast. It seizes its object, but its flabby grasp relaxes and +slips off. Hinduism, like modern science, has its doctrine of +evolution. But it has no philosophy of evolution. +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="314">{314}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +5. Ethics. +</p> +<p align=center> +<i>(a) The Individual</i>. +</p> +<p> +A strong note of practical moderation pervades the ethics of +Aristotle. While Plato's ethical teaching transcended the ordinary +limits of human life, and so lost itself in ideal Utopias, Aristotle, +on the other hand, sits down to make practical suggestions: He wishes +to enquire what the good is, but by this he means, not some ideal good +impossible of attainment upon this earth, but rather that good which, +in all the circumstances in which men find themselves, ought to be +realizable. The ethical theories of Plato and Aristotle are thus +characteristic of the two men. Plato despised the world of sense, and +sought to soar altogether beyond the common life of the senses. +Aristotle, with his love of facts and of the concrete, keeps close +within the bounds of actual human experience. +</p> +<p> +The first question for ethics is the nature of the <i>summum bonum</i>. We +desire one thing for the sake of a second, we desire that for the sake +of a third. But if this series of means and ends goes on <i>ad +infinitum</i>, then all desire and all action are futile and purposeless. +There must be some one thing which we desire, not for the sake of +anything else, but on its own account. What is this end in itself, +this <i>summum bonum</i>, at which all human activity ultimately aims. +Everybody, says Aristotle, is agreed about the name of this end. It is +happiness. What all men seek, what is the motive of all their actions, +that which they desire for the sake of itself and nothing beyond, is +happiness. But though all agree as to the name, beyond that there is +no agreement. Philosophers, <a name="315">{315}</a> no less than the vulgar, differ as +to what this word happiness means. Some say it is a life of pleasure. +Others say it consists in the renunciation of pleasures. Some +recommend one life, some another. +</p> +<p> +We must repeat here the warning which was found necessary in the case +of Plato, who also called the <i>summum bonum</i> happiness. Aristotle's +doctrine is no more to be confused with modern utilitarianism than is +Plato's. Moral activity is usually accompanied by a subjective feeling +of enjoyment. In modern times the word happiness connotes the feeling +of enjoyment. But for the Greeks it was the moral activity which the +word signified. For Aristotle an action is not good because it yields +enjoyment. On the contrary, it yields enjoyment because it is good. +The utilitarian doctrine is that the enjoyment is the ground of the +moral value. But, for Aristotle, the enjoyment is the consequence of +the moral value. Hence when he tells us that the highest good is +happiness, he is giving us no information regarding its nature, but +merely applying a new name to it. We have still to enquire what the +nature of the good is. As he himself says, everyone agrees upon the +name, but the real question is what this name connotes. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle's solution of this problem follows from the general +principles of his philosophy. We have seen that, throughout nature, +every being has its proper end, and the attainment of this end is its +special function. Hence the good for each being must be the adequate +performance of its special function. The good for man will not consist +in the pleasure of the senses. Sensation is the special function of +animals, but not of man. Man's special function is reason. Hence the +proper <a name="316">{316}</a> activity of reason is the <i>summum bonum</i>, the good for +man. Morality consists in the life of reason. But what precisely that +means we have still to see. +</p> +<p> +Man is not only a reasoning animal. As the higher being, he contains +within himself the faculties of the lower beings also. Like plants he +is appetitive, like animals, sensitive. The passions and appetites are +an organic part of his nature. Hence virtue will be of two kinds. The +highest virtues will be found in the life of reason, and the life of +thought, philosophy. These intellectual virtues are called by +Aristotle dianoetic. Secondly, the ethical virtues proper will consist +in the submission of the passions and appetites to the control of +reason. The dianoetic virtues are the higher, because in them man's +special function alone is in operation, and also because the thinking +man most resembles God, whose life is a life of pure thought. +</p> +<p> +Happiness, therefore, consists in the combination of dianoetic and +ethical virtues. They alone are of absolute value to man. Yet, though +he places happiness in virtue, Aristotle, in his broad and practical +way, does not overlook the fact that external goods and circumstances +have a profound influence upon happiness, and cannot be ignored, as +the Cynics attempted to ignore them. Not that Aristotle regards +externals as having any value in themselves. What alone is good in +itself, is an end in itself, is virtue. But external goods help a man +in his quest of virtue. Poverty, sickness, and misfortune, on the +other hand, hinder his efforts. Therefore, though externals are not +goods in themselves, they may be a means towards the good. Hence they +are not to be despised and rejected. Riches, friends, health, <a name="317">{317}</a> +good fortune, are not happiness. But they are negative conditions of +it. With them happiness is within our grasp. Without them its +attainment is difficult. They will be valued accordingly. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle says little in detail of the dianoetic virtues. And we may +turn at once to the main subject of his moral system, the ethical +virtues. These consist in the governance of the passions by reason. +Socrates was wrong in supposing that virtue is purely intellectual, +that nothing save knowledge is needed for it, and that if a man thinks +right he must needs do right. He forgot the existence of the passions, +which are not easily controlled. A man may reason perfectly, his +reason may point him to the right path, but his passions may get the +upper hand and lead him out of it. How then is reason to gain control +over the appetites? Only by practice. It is only by continual effort, +by the constant exercise of self-control, that the unruly passions can +be tamed. Once brought under the yoke, their control becomes habit. +Aristotle lays the utmost emphasis on the importance of habit in +morality. It is only by cultivating good habits that a man becomes +good. +</p> +<p> +Now if virtue consists in the control of the appetites by reason, it +thus contains two constituents, reason and appetite. Both must be +present. There must be passions, if they are to be controlled. Hence +the ascetic ideal of rooting out the passions altogether is +fundamentally wrong. It overlooks the fact that the higher form does +not exclude the lower--that were contrary to the conception of +evolution--it includes and transcends it. It forgets that the passions +are an organic part of man, and that to destroy them is to do injury +to his <a name="318">{318}</a> nature by destroying one of its essential members. The +passions and appetites are, in fact, the matter of virtue, reason its +form, and the mistake of asceticism is that it destroys the matter of +virtue, and supposes that the form can subsist by itself. Virtue means +that the appetites must be brought under control, not that they must +be eradicated. Hence there are two extremes to be avoided. It is +extreme, on the one hand, to attempt to uproot the passions; and it is +extreme, on the other, to allow them to run riot. Virtue means +moderation. It consists in hitting the happy mean as regards the +passions, in not allowing them to get the upper hand of reason, and +yet in not being quite passionless and apathetic. From this follows +the famous Aristotelian doctrine of virtue as the mean between two +extremes. Every virtue lies between two vices, which are the excess +and defect of appetite respectively. +</p> +<p> +What is the criterion here? Who is to judge? How are we to know what +is the proper mean in any matter? Mathematical analogies will not help +us. It is not a case of drawing a straight line from one extreme to +the other, and finding the middle point by bisection. And Aristotle +refuses to lay down any rule of thumb in the matter. There is no +golden rule by virtue of which we can tell where the proper mean is. +It all depends on circumstances, and on the person involved. What is +the proper mean in one case is not the proper mean in another. What is +moderate for one man is immoderate for his neighbour. Hence the matter +must be left to the good judgment of the individual. A sort of fine +tact, good sense, is required to know the mean, which Aristotle calls +"insight." This insight is both the cause and the <a name="319">{319}</a> effect of +virtue. It is the cause, because he who has it knows what he ought to +do. It is the effect, because it is only developed by practice. Virtue +renders virtue easy. Each time a man, by use of his insight, rightly +decides upon the mean, it becomes easier for him to discriminate next +time. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle attempts no systematic classification of the virtues, as +Plato had done. This sort of schematism is contrary to the practical +character of his thought. He sees that life is far too complex to be +treated in this way. The proper mean is different in every different +case, and therefore there are as many virtues as there are +circumstances in life. His list of virtues, therefore, is not intended +to be exhaustive. It is merely illustrative. Though the number of +virtues is infinite, there are certain well-recognized kinds of good +action, which are of such constant importance in life that they have +received names. By the example of some of these virtues Aristotle +illustrates his doctrine of the mean. For instance, courage is the +mean between cowardice and rashness. That is to say, cowardice is the +defect of boldness, rashness the excess, courage the reasonable +medium. Munificence is the mean between pettiness and vulgar +profusion, good temper between spiritlessness and irascibility, +politeness between rudeness and obsequiousness, modesty between +shamelessness and bashfulness, temperance between insensibility and +intemperance. +</p> +<p> +Justice hardly comes into the scheme; it is rather a virtue of the +State than of the individual, and it has been thought by some that the +book devoted to it in the "Ethics" has been misplaced. Justice is of +two kinds, distributive and corrective. Its fundamental idea <a name="320">{320}</a> is +the assignment of advantages and disadvantages according to merit. +Distributive justice assigns honours and rewards according to the +worth of the individuals involved. Corrective justice has to do with +punishment. If a man improperly obtains an advantage, things must be +equalized by the imposition on him of a corresponding disadvantage. +Justice, however, is a general principle, and no general principle is +equal to the complexity of life. Special cases cannot be foreseen, The +necessary adjustment of human relations arising from this cause is +equity. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle is a pronounced supporter of the freedom of the will. He +censures Socrates because the latter's theory of virtue practically +amounts to a denial of freedom. According to Socrates, whoever thinks +right must necessarily do right. But this is equivalent to denying a +man's power to choose evil. And if he cannot choose evil, he cannot +choose good. For the right-thinking man does not do right voluntarily, +but necessarily. Aristotle believed, on the contrary, that man has the +choice of good and evil. The doctrine of Socrates makes all actions +involuntary. But in Aristotle's opinion only actions performed under +forcible compulsion are involuntary. Aristotle did not, however, +consider the special difficulties in the theory of free will which in +modern times have made it one of the most thorny of all philosophical +problems. Hence his treatment of the subject is not of great value to +us. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +<i>(b) The State</i>. +</p> +<p> +Politics is not a separate subject from Ethics. It is merely another +division of the same subject. And <a name="321">{321}</a> this, not merely because +politics is the ethics of the State as against the individual, but +because the morality of the individual really finds its end in the +State, and is impossible without it. Aristotle agrees with Plato that +the object of the State is the virtue and happiness of the citizens, +which are impossible except in the State. For man is a political +animal by nature, as is proved by his possession of speech, which +would be useless to any save a social being. And the phrase "by +nature" means the same here as elsewhere in Aristotle. It means that +the State is the end of the individual, and that activity in the State +is part of man's essential function. The State, in fact, is the form, +the individual, the matter. The State provides both an education in +virtue and the necessary opportunities for its exercise. Without it +man would not be man at all. He would be a savage animal. +</p> +<p> +The historical origin of the State Aristotle finds in the family. At +first there is the individual. The individual gets himself a mate, and +the family arises. The family, in Aristotle's opinion, includes the +slaves: for, like Plato, he sees no wrong in the institution of +slavery. A number of families, joining together, develop into a +village community, and a number of village communities into a <i>polis</i> +(city), or State. Beyond the city, of course, the Greek idea of the +State did not extend. +</p> +<p> +Such then is the historical origin of the State. But it is of capital +importance to understand that, in Aristotle's opinion, this question +of historical origin has nothing on earth to do with the far more +important question what the State essentially is. It is no mere +mechanical aggregate of families and village communities, <a name="322">{322}</a> The +<i>nature</i> of the State is not explained in this way. For though the +family is prior to the State in order of time, the State is prior to +the family and to the individual in order of thought, and in reality. +For the State is the end, and the end is always prior to that of which +it is the end. The state as form is prior to the family as matter, and +in the same way the family is prior to the individual. And as the +explanation of things is only possible by teleology, it is the end +which explains the beginning, it is the State which explains the +family, and not vice versa. +</p> +<p> +The true nature of the State, therefore, is not that it is a +mechanical sum of individuals, as a heap of sand is the sum of its +grains. The State is a real organism, and the connexion of part to +part is not mechanical, but organic. The State has a life of its own. +And its members also have their own lives, which are included in the +higher life of the State. All the parts of an organism are themselves +organisms. And as the distinction between organic and inorganic is +that the former has its end in itself, while the latter has its end +external to it, this means that the State is an end in itself, that +the individual is an end in himself, and that the former end includes +the latter. Or we may express the same thought otherwise by saying +that, in the State, both the whole and the parts are to be regarded as +real, both having their own lives and, in their character as ends, +their own rights. Consequently, there are two kinds of views of the +nature of the State, which are, according to Aristotle, fundamentally +erroneous. The first is the kind of view which depends upon asserting +the reality of the parts, but denying the reality of the whole, or, +what is the same <a name="323">{323}</a> thing, allowing that the individual is an end +in himself, but denying that the State as a whole is such an end or +has a separate life of its own. The second kind of false view is of +the opposite kind, and consists in allowing reality only to the whole +State, and denying the reality of its parts, the individuals. The +opinions that the State is merely a mechanical aggregate of +individuals, that it is formed by the combination of individuals or +families for the sake of mutual protection and benefit, and that it +exists only for these purposes, are examples of the first kind. Such +views subordinate the State to the individual. The State is treated as +an external contrivance for securing the life, the property, or the +convenience of the individual. The State exists solely for the sake of +the individual, and is not in itself an end. The individual alone is +real, the State unreal, because it is only a collection of +individuals. These views forget that the State is an organism, and +they forget all that this implies. Aristotle would have condemned, on +these grounds, the social contract theory so popular in the eighteenth +century, and likewise the view of modern individualism that the State +exists solely to ensure that the liberty of the individual is +curtailed only by the right of other individuals to the same liberty. +The opposite kind of false view is illustrated by the ideal State of +Plato. As the views we have just discussed deny the reality of the +whole, Plato's view, on the contrary, denies the reality of the parts. +For him the individual is nothing, the State everything. The +individual is absolutely sacrificed to the State. He exists only <i>for</i> +the State, and thus Plato makes the mistake of setting up the State as +sole end and denying that the <a name="324">{324}</a> individual is an end in himself. +Plato imagined that the State is a homogeneous unity, in which its +parts totally disappear. But the true view is that the State, as an +organism, is a unity which contains heterogeneity. It is coherent, yet +heterogeneous. And Plato makes the same mistake in his view of the +family as in his view of the individual. The family, Aristotle thinks, +is, like the individual, a real part of the social whole. It is an +organism within an organism. As such, it is an end in itself, has +absolute rights, and cannot be obliterated. But Plato expressly +proposed to abolish the family in favour of the State, and by +suggesting community of wives and the education of children in State +nurseries from the year of their birth, struck a deadly blow at an +essential part of the State organization. Aristotle thus supports the +institution of family, not on sentimental, but upon philosophic +grounds. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle gives no exhaustive classification of different kinds of +State, because forms of government may be as various as the +circumstances which give rise to them. His classification is intended +to include only outstanding types. He finds that there are six such +types, of which three are good. The other three are bad, because they +are corruptions of the good types. These are (1) Monarchy, the rule of +one man by virtue of his being so superior in wisdom to all his +fellows that he naturally rules them. The corruption of Monarchy is +(2) Tyranny, the rule of one man founded not on wisdom and capacity, +but upon force. The second good form is (3) Aristocracy, the rule of +the wiser and better few, of which the corrupt form is (4) Oligarchy, +the rule of the rich and powerful few. (5) Constitutional Republic or +Timocracy arises <a name="325">{325}</a> where all the citizens are of fairly equal +capacity, i.e., where no stand-out individual or class exists, so that +all or most take a share in the government. The corresponding corrupt +form is (6) Democracy, which, though it is the rule of the many, is +more especially characterized as being the rule of the poor. +</p> +<p> +Unlike Plato, Aristotle depicts no ideal State. No single State, he +thinks, is in itself the best. Everything must depend upon the +circumstances. What is the best State in one age and county will not +be the best in another. Moreover, it is useless to discuss Utopian +constitutions. What alone interests the sane and balanced mind of +Aristotle is the kind of constitution which we may hope actually to +realize. Of the three good forms of government he considers that +monarchy is theoretically the best. The rule of a single perfectly +wise and just man would be better than any other. But it has to be +given up as impracticable, because such perfect individuals do not +exist. And it is only among primitive peoples that we find the hero, +the man whose moral stature so completely exalts him above his fellows +that he rules as a matter of course. The next best State is +aristocracy. And last, in Aristotle's opinion, comes constitutional +republic, which is, however, perhaps the State best suited to the +special needs and level of development of the Greek city-states. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +6. Aesthetics, or the Theory of Art. +</p> +<p> +Plato had no systematic philosophy of Art, and his views had to be +collected from scattered references. Aristotle likewise has scarcely a +system, though his opinions are more connected, and though he devoted +a special tretise, the "Poetics", to the subject. And this +<a name="326">{326}</a> book, which has come down to us in a +fragmentary condition, +deals exclusively with poetry, and even in poetry only the drama is +considered in detail. What we have from Aristotle on the subject of +aesthetics may be divided roughly into two classes, firstly, +reflections on the nature and significance of art in general, and, +secondly, a more detailed application of these principles to the art +of poetry. We shall deal with these two classes of opinions in that +order. +</p> +<p> +In order to know what art is, we must first know what it is not. It +must be distinguished from kindred activities. And firstly, it is +distinguished from morality in that morality is concerned with action, +art with production. Morality consists in the activity itself, art in +that which the activity produces. Hence the state of mind of the +actor, his motives, feelings, etc., are important in morality, for +they are part of the act itself. But they are not important in art, +the only essential being that the work of art should turn out well, +however it has been produced. Secondly, art is distinguished from the +activity of nature, which it in many respects resembles. Organic +beings reproduce their own kind, and, in the fact that it is concerned +with production, generation resembles art. But in generation, the +living being produces only itself. The plant produces a plant, man +begets man. But the artist produces something quite other than +himself, a poem, a picture, a statue. +</p> +<p> +Art is of two kinds, according as it aims at completing the work of +nature, or at creating something new, an imaginary world of its own +which is a copy of the real world. In the former case, we get such +arts as that of <a name="327">{327}</a> medicine. Where nature has failed to produce a +healthy body, the physician helps nature out, and completes the work +that she has begun. In the latter case, we get what are, in modern +times, called the fine arts. These Aristotle calls the imitative arts. +We saw that Plato regarded all art as imitative, and that such a view +is essentially unsatisfactory. Now Aristotle uses the same word, which +he perhaps borrowed from Plato, but his meaning is not the same as +Plato's, nor does he fall into the same mistakes. That in calling art +imitative he has not in mind the thought that it has for its aim +merely the faithful copying of natural objects is proved by the fact +that he mentions music as the most imitative of the arts, whereas +music is, in fact, in this sense, the least imitative of all. The +painter may conceivably be regarded as imitating trees, rivers, or +men, but the musician for the most part produces what is unlike +anything in nature. What Aristotle means is that the artist copies, +not the sensuous object, but what Plato would call the Idea. Art is +thus not, in Plato's contemptuous phrase, a copy of a copy. It is a +copy of the original. Its object is not this or that particular thing, +but the universal which manifests itself in the particular. Art +idealizes nature, that is, sees the Idea in it. It regards the +individual thing, not as an individual, but in its universal aspects, +as the fleeting embodiment of an eternal thought. Hence it is that the +sculptor depicts not the individual man, but rather the type-man, the +perfection of his kind. Hence too, in modern times, the portrait +painter is not concerned to paint a faithful image of his model, but +takes the model merely as a suggestion, and seizes upon that essential +and eternal <a name="328">{328}</a> essence, that ideal thought, or universal, which he +sees shining through the sensuous materials in which it is imprisoned. +His task is to free it from this imprisonment. The common man sees +only the particular object. The artist sees the universal in the +particular. Every individual thing is a compound of matter and form, +of particular and universal. The function of art is to exhibit the +universal in it. +</p> +<p> +Hence poetry is truer, more philosophical, than history. For history +deals only with the particular as the particular. It tells us only of +the <i>fact</i>, of what has happened. Its truth is mere correctness, +accuracy. It has not in it, as art has, the living and eternal truth. +It does not deal with the Idea. It yields us only the knowledge of +something that, having happened, having gone by, is finished. Its +object is transient and perishable. It concerns only the endless +iteration of meaningless events. But the object of art is that inner +essence of objects and events, which perishes not, and of which the +objects and events are the mere external drapery. If therefore we +would arrange philosophy, art, and history, in order of their +essential nobility and truth, we should place philosophy first, +because its object is the universal as it is in itself, the pure +universal. We should place art second, because its object is the +universal in the particular, and history last, because it deals only +with the particular as such. Yet because each thing in the world has +its own proper function, and errs if it seeks to perform the functions +of something else, hence, in Aristotle's opinion, art must not attempt +to emulate philosophy. It must not deal with the abstract universal. +The poet must not use his verses as a vehicle of abstract thought. His +proper <a name="329">{329}</a> sphere is the universal as it manifests itself in the +particular, not the universal as it is in itself. Aristotle, for this +reason, censures didactic poetry. Such a poem as that of Empedocles, +who unfolded his philosophical system in metre, is not, in fact, +poetry at all. It is versified philosophy. Art is thus lower than +philosophy. The absolute reality, the inner essence of the world, is +thought, reason, the universal. To contemplate this reality is the +object alike of philosophy and of art. But art sees the Absolute not +in its final truth, but wrapped up in a sensuous drapery. Philosophy +sees the Absolute as it is in itself, in its own nature, in its full +truth; it sees it as what it essentially is, thought. Philosophy, +therefore, is the perfect truth. But this does not mean that art is to +be superseded and done away with. Because philosophy is higher than +art, it does not follow that a man should suppress the artist in +himself in order to rise to philosophy. For an essential thought of +the Aristotelian philosophy is that, in the scale of beings, even the +lower form is an end in itself, and has absolute rights. The higher +activities presuppose the lower, and rest upon them. The higher +includes the lower, and the lower, as an organic part of its being, +cannot be eradicated without injury to the whole. To suppress art in +favour of philosophy would be a mistake precisely parallel to the +moral error of asceticism. In treating of Aristotle's ethics we saw +that, although the activity of reason is held in highest esteem, the +attempt to uproot the passions was censured as erroneous. So here, +though philosophy is the crown of man's spiritual activity, art has +its rights, and is an absolute end in itself, a point which Plato +failed to see. In the human organism, the head is the <a name="330">{330}</a> chief of +the members. But one does not cut off the hand because it is not the +head. +</p> +<p> +Coming now to Aristotle's special treatment of the art of poetry, we +may note that he concentrates his attention almost exclusively upon +the drama. It does not matter whether the plot of a drama is +historical or fictitious. For the object of art, the exhibition of the +universal, is just as well attained in an imaginary as in a real +series of events. Its aim is not correctness, but truth, not facts, +but the Idea. Drama is of two kinds, tragedy and comedy. Tragedy +exhibits the nobler specimens of humanity, comedy the worse. This +remark should be carefully understood. It does not mean that the hero +of a tragedy is necessarily a good man in the ordinary sense. He may +even be a wicked man. But the point is that, in some sense, he must be +a great personality. He cannot be an insignificant person. He cannot +be a nonentity. Be he good or bad, he must be conceived in the grand +manner. Milton's Satan is not good, but he is great, and would be a +fit subject for a tragedy. The soundness of Aristotle's thought here +is very noteworthy. What is mean and sordid can never form the basis +of tragedy. Modern newspapers have done their best to debauch this +word tragedy. Some wretched noteless human being is crushed to death +by a train, and the newspapers head their paragraph "Fearful Tragedy +at Peckham Rye." Now such an incident may be sad, it may be dreadful, +it may be horrible, but it is not tragic. Tragedy no doubt deals with +suffering. But there is nothing great and ennobling about this +suffering, and tragedy is concerned with the sufferings of greatness. +In the same way, Aristotle does not mean that the comic <a name="331">{331}</a> hero is +necessarily a wicked man, but that he is, on the whole, a poor +creature, an insignificant being. He may be very worthy, but there is +something low and ignoble about him which makes us laugh. +</p> +<p> +Tragedy brings about a purification of the soul through pity and +terror. Mean, sordid, or dreadful things do not ennoble us. But the +representation of truly great and tragic sufferings arouses in the +beholder pity and terror which purge his spirit, and render it serene +and pure. This is the thought of a great and penetrating critic. The +theory of certain scholars, based upon etymological grounds, that it +means that the soul is purged, not <i>through</i>, but <i>of</i> pity and +terror, that by means of a diarrhoea of these unpleasant emotions we +get rid of them and are left happy, is the thought of men whose +scholarship may be great, but whose understanding of art is limited. +Such a theory would reduce Aristotle's great and illuminating +criticism to the meaningless babble of a philistine. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +7. Critical Estimate of Aristotle's Philosophy. +</p> +<p> +It is not necessary to spend so much time upon criticising Aristotle +as we spent upon doing the same for Plato, and that for two reasons. +In the first place, Plato with his obvious greatness abounded in +defects which had to be pointed out, whereas we have but little +adverse criticism for Aristotle. Secondly, Aristotle's main defect is +a dualism almost identical with that of Plato, and what has been said +of the one need only be shortly applied to the other. +</p> +<p> +At bottom Aristotle's philosophy is the same as Plato's, with some of +the main defects and crudities removed. Plato was the founder of the +philosophy of the Idea. <a name="332">{332}</a> But in his hands, idealism was clogged +with unessentials, and overgrown with excrescences. His crude theory +of the soul as a thing mechanically forced in and out of the body, his +doctrines of reincarnation and recollection, the belief that this +<i>thing</i> the soul can travel to some place far away where it will see +those <i>things</i> the Ideas, and above all, what is the root of all +these, the confusion between reality and existence, with its +consequent degradation of the universal to a mere particular--these +were the unessentials with which Plato connected his essential +idealism. To take the pure theory of Ideas--albeit not under that +name--to purge it of these encumbrances and to cast them upon the +rubbish heap, to cleanse Plato's gold of its dross, this was the task +of Aristotle. Thought, the universal, the Idea, form--call it what +you will--this is the ultimate reality, the foundation of the world, +the absolute prius of all things. So thought both Plato and Aristotle. +But whereas Plato began to draw mental pictures of the universal, to +imagine that it existed apart in a world of its own, and so might be +experienced by the vision of the wandering soul, Aristotle saw that +this was to treat thought as if it were a thing, to turn it into a +mere particular again. He saw that the universal, though it is the +real, has no existence in a world of its own, but only in this world, +only as a formative principle of particular things. This is the +key-note of his philosophy. Aristotle registers, therefore, an +enormous advance upon Plato. His system is the perfected and completed +Greek idealism. It is the highest point reached in the philosophy of +Greece. The flower of all previous thought, the essence and pure +distillation of the Greek philosophic spirit, the gathering <a name="333">{333}</a> up +of all that is good in his predecessors and the rejection of all that +is faulty and worthless--such is the philosophy of Aristotle. It was +not possible for the Greek spirit to advance further. Further +development could be only decay. And so, in fact, it turned out to be. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle deserves, too, the credit of having produced the only +philosophy of evolution which the world has ever seen, with the +exception of that of Hegel; and Hegel was enabled to found a newer +theory of evolution only by following largely in the footsteps of +Aristotle. This was perhaps Aristotle's most original contribution to +thought. Yet the factors of the problem, though not its solution, he +took from his predecessors. The problem of becoming had tortured Greek +thought from the earliest ages. The philosophy of Heracleitus, in +which it was most prominent, had failed to solve it. Heracleitus and +his successors racked their brains to discover how becoming could be +possible. But even if they had solved this minor problem, the greater +question still remained in the background, what does this becoming +mean? Becoming for them was only meaningless change. It was not +development. The world-process was an endless stream of futile and +purposeless events, "a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, +signifying nothing." Aristotle not merely asked himself how becoming +is possible. He showed that becoming has a meaning, that it signifies +something, that the world-process is a rationally ordered development +towards a rational end. +</p> +<p> +But, though Aristotle's philosophy is the highest presentation of the +truth in ancient times, it cannot be accepted as anything final and +faultless. Doubtless no philosophy can ever attain to finality. Let us +apply our <a name="334">{334}</a> two-fold test. Does his principle explain the world, +and does it explain itself? First, does it explain the world? The +cause of Plato's failure here was the dualism in his system between +sense and thought, between matter and the Ideas. It was impossible to +derive the world from the Ideas, because they were absolutely +separated from the world. The gulf was so great that it could never be +bridged. Matter and Idea lay apart, and could never be brought +together. Now Aristotle saw this dualism in Plato, and attempted to +surmount it. The universal and the particular, he said, do not thus +lie apart, in different worlds. The Idea is not a thing here, and +matter a thing there, so that these two incommensurables have to be +somehow mechanically and violently forced together to form a world. +Universal and particular, matter and form, are inseparable. The +connexion between them is not mechanical, but organic. The dualism of +Plato is thus admitted and refuted. But is it really surmounted? The +answer must be in the negative. It is not enough by a <i>tour de force</i> to +bring matter and form together, to assert that they are inseparable, +while they remain all the time, in principle, separate entities. If +the Absolute is form, matter ought to be deduced from form, shown to +be merely a projection and manifestation of it. It must be shown that +form not only moulds matter but produces it. If we assert that the one +primal reality is form, then clearly we must prove that all else in +the world, including matter, arises out of that prime being. Either +matter arises out of form or it does not. If it does, this arising +must be exhibited. If it does not, then form is not the sole ultimate +reality, for matter is equally an ultimate, underivative, <a name="335">{335}</a> +primordial substance. In that case, we thus have two equally real +ultimate beings, each underived from the other, existing side by side +from all eternity. This is dualism, and this is the defect of +Aristotle. Not only does he not derive matter from form, but he +obviously sees no necessity for doing so. He would probably have +protested against any attempt to do so, for, when he identifies the +formal, final, and efficient causes with each other, leaving out the +material cause, this is equivalent to an assertion that matter cannot +be reduced to form. Thus his dualism is deliberate and persistent. The +world, says Aristotle, is composed of matter and form. Where does this +matter come from? As it does not, in his system, arise out of form, we +can only conclude that its being is wholly in itself, i.e., that it is +a substance, an absolute reality. And this is utterly inconsistent +with Aristotle's assertion that it is in itself nothing but a mere +potentiality. Thus, in the last resort, this dualism of sense and +thought, of matter and Idea, of unlimited and limiting, which runs, +"the little rift within the lute," through all Greek philosophy, is +not resolved. The world is not explained, because it is not derived +from a single principle. If form be the Absolute, the whole world must +flow out of it. In Aristotle's system, it does not. +</p> +<p> +Secondly, is the principle of form self-explanatory? Here, again, we +must answer negatively. Most of what was said of Plato under this head +applies equally to Aristotle. Plato asserted that the Absolute is +reason, and it was therefore incumbent on him to show that his account +of reason was truly rational. He failed to do so. Aristotle asserts +the same thing, for form is only <a name="336">{336}</a> another word for reason. Hence +he must show us that this form is a rational principle, and this means +that he must show us that it is necessary. But he fails to do so. How +is form a necessary and self-determining principle? Why should there +be such a principle as form? We cannot see any necessity. It is a mere +fact. It is nothing but an ultimate mystery. It is so, and that is an +end of it. But why it should be so, we cannot see. Nor can we see why +there should be any of the particular kinds of form that there are. To +explain this, Aristotle ought to have shown that the forms constitute +a systematic unity, that they can be deduced one from another, just as +we saw that Plato ought to have deduced all the Ideas from one +another. Thus Aristotle asserts that the form of plants is nutrition, +of animals sensation, and that the one passes into the other. But even +if this assertion be true, it is a mere fact. He ought not merely to +have asserted this, but to have deduced sensation from nutrition. +Instead of being content to allege that, as a fact, nutrition passes +into sensation, he ought to have shown that it must pass into +sensation, that the passage from one to the other is a logical +necessity. Otherwise, we cannot see the reason why this change occurs. +That is to say, the change is not <i>explained</i>. +</p> +<p> +Consider the effects of this omission upon the theory of evolution. We +are told that the world-process moves towards an end, and that this +end is the self-realization of reason, and that it is proximately +attained in man, because man is a reasoning being. So far this is +quite intelligible. But this implies that each step in evolution is +higher than the last because it approaches nearer to <a name="337">{337}</a> the end of +the world-process. And as that end is the realization of reason, this +is equivalent to saying that each step is higher than the last because +it is more rational. But how is sensation more rational than +nutrition? Why should it not be the other way about? Nutrition passes +through sensation into human reason. But why should not sensation pass +through nutrition into human reason? Why should not the order be +reversed? We cannot explain. And such an admission is absolutely fatal +to any philosophy of evolution. The whole object of such a philosophy +is to make it clear to us why the higher form is higher, and why the +lower is lower: why, for example, nutrition must, as lower, come +first, and sensation second, and not <i>vice versa</i>. If we can see no +reason why the order should not be reversed, this simply means that +our philosophy of evolution has failed in its main point. It means +that we cannot see any real difference between lower and higher, and +that therefore we have merely change without development, since it is +indifferent whether A passes into B, or B into A. The only way in +which Aristotle could have surmounted these difficulties would have +been to prove that sensation is a development of reason which goes +beyond nutrition. And he could only do this by showing that sensation +logically arises out of nutrition. For a logical development is the +same as a rational development. He ought to have logically deduced +sensation from nutrition, and so with all the other forms. As it is, +all that can be said is that Aristotle was the founder of a philosophy +of evolution because he saw that evolution implies movement towards an +end, and because he attempted to point out the different stages in the +attainment of that end, <a name="338">{338}</a> but that he failed rationally to develop +the doctrine stage by stage. +</p> +<p> +As neither the principle of form in general was shown to be necessary, +nor were the particular forms deduced from each other, we have to +conclude that Aristotle like Plato, <i>named</i> a self-explanatory +principle, reason or form, as ultimate principle of things, but failed +to show in detail that it is self-explanatory. Yet, in spite these +defects, the philosophy of Aristotle is one of the greatest +philosophies that the world has ever seen, or is ever likely to see. +If it does not solve all problems, it does render the world more +intelligible to us than it was before. +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="339">{339}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERXIV">CHAPTER XIV</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF POST-ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY +</p> +<p> +The rest of the story of Greek philosophy is soon told, for it is the +story of decay. The post-Aristotelian is the least instructive of the +three periods of Greek thought, and I shall delineate only its main +outlines. +</p> +<p> +The general characteristics of the decay of thought which set in after +Aristotle are intimately connected with the political, social, and +moral events of the time. Although the huge empire of Alexander had +broken up at the conqueror's death, this fact had in no way helped the +Greek States to throw off the yoke of their oppressors. With the +single exception of Sparta, which stubbornly held out, they had +become, for all intents and purposes, subject to the dominion of +Macedonia. And the death of Alexander did not alter this fact. It was +not merely that rude might had overwhelmed a beautiful and delicate +civilization. That civilization itself was decaying. The Greeks had +ceased to be a great and free people. Their vitality was ebbing. Had +it not been one conqueror it would have been another. They were +growing old. They had to give way before younger and sturdier races. +It was not so many years now before Greece, passing from one alien +yoke to another, was to become no more than a Roman province. +</p> +<p> +<a name="340">{340}</a> +</p> +<p> +Philosophy is not something that subsists independently of the growth +and decay of the spirit of man. It goes hand in hand with political, +social, religious, and artistic development. Political organization, +art, religion, science, and philosophy, are but different forms in +which the life of a people expresses itself. The innermost substance +of the national life is found in the national philosophy, and the +history of philosophy is the kernel of the history of nations. It was +but natural, then, that from the time of Alexander onwards Greek +philosophy should exhibit symptoms of decay. +</p> +<p> +The essential mark of the decay of Greek thought was the intense +subjectivism which is a feature of all the post-Aristotelian schools. +Not one of them is interested in the solution of the world-problem for +its own sake. The pure scientific spirit, the desire for knowledge for +its own sake, is gone. That curiosity, that wonder, of which Aristotle +speaks as the inspiring spirit of philosophy, is dead. The motive +power of philosophy is no longer the disinterested pursuit of truth, +but only the desire of the individual to escape from the ills of life. +Philosophy only interests men in so far as it affects their lives. It +becomes anthropocentric and egocentric. Everything pivots on the +individual subject, his destiny, his fate, the welfare of his soul. +Religion has long since become corrupted and worthless, and philosophy +is now expected to do the work of religion, and to be a haven of +refuge from the storms of life. Hence it becomes essentially +practical. Before everything else it is ethical. All other departments +of thought are now subordinated to ethics. It is not as in the days of +the strength and youth of the Greek spirit, when Xenophanes or <a name="341">{341}</a> +Anaxagoras looked out into the heavens, and naively wondered what the +sun and the stars were, and how the world arose. Men's thought no +longer turns outward toward the stars, but only inward upon +themselves. It is not the riddle of the universe, but the riddle of +human life, which makes them ponder. +</p> +<p> +This subjectivism has as its necessary consequences, one-sidedness, +absence of originality, and finally complete scepticism. Since men are +no longer interested in the wider problems of the universe, but only +in the comparatively petty problems of human life, their outlook +becomes exclusively ethical, narrow, and one-sided. He who cannot +forget his own self, cannot merge and lose himself in the universe, +but looks at all things only as they affect himself, does not give +birth to great and universal thoughts. He becomes self-centred, and +makes the universe revolve round him. Hence we no longer have now +great, universal, all-embracing systems, like those of Plato and +Aristotle. Metaphysics, physics, logic, are not studied for their own +sakes, but only as preparations for ethics. Narrowness, however, is +always compensated by intensity, which in the end becomes fanaticism. +Hence the intense earnestness and almost miraculous heights of +fanatical asceticism, to which the Stoics attained. And an unbalanced +and one-sided philosophy leads to extremes. Such a philosophy, +obsessed by a single idea, unrestrained by any consideration for other +and equally important factors of truth, regardless of all other +claims, pushes its idea pig-headedly to its logical extreme. Such a +procedure results in paradoxes and extravagances. Hence the Stoics, if +they made duty their watchword, must needs conceive it in <a name="342">{342}</a> the +most extreme opposition to all natural impulses, with a sternness +unheard of in any previous ethical doctrine save that of the Cynics. +Hence the Sceptics, if they lighted on the thought that knowledge is +difficult of attainment, must needs rush to the extreme conclusion +that any knowledge is utterly impossible. Hence the Neo-Platonists +must needs cap all these tendencies by making out a drunken frenzy of +the soul to be the true organ of philosophy, and by introducing into +speculation all the fantastic paraphernalia of sorcery, demons, and +demi-gods. Absence of sanity and balance, then, are characteristics of +the last period of Greek philosophy. The serenity and calm of Plato +and Aristotle are gone, and in their place we have turgidity and +extravagance. +</p> +<p> +Lack of originality is a second consequence of the subjectivism of the +age. Since metaphysics, physics, and logic are not cultivated, except +in a purely practical interest, they do not flourish. Instead of +advancing in these arenas of thought, the philosophies of the age go +backwards. Older systems, long discredited, are revived, and their +dead bones triumphantly paraded abroad. The Stoics return to +Heracleitus for their physics, Epicurus resurrects the atomism of +Democritus. Even in ethics, on which they concentrate all their +thought, these post-Aristotelian systems have nothing essentially new +to say. Stoicism borrows its principal ideas from the Cynics, +Epicureanism from the Cyrenaics. The post-Aristotelians rearrange old +thoughts in a new order. They take up the ideas of the past and +exaggerate this or that aspect of them. They twist and turn them in +all directions, and squeeze them dry for a drop of new life. <a name="343">{343}</a> But +in the end nothing new eventuates. Greek thought is finished, and +there is nothing new to be got out of it, torture it how they will. +From the first Stoic to the last Neo-Platonist, there is no +essentially new principle added to philosophy, unless we count as such +the sad and jaded ideas which the Neo-Platonists introduced from the +East. +</p> +<p> +Lastly, subjectivism ends naturally in scepticism, the denial of all +knowledge, the rejection of all philosophy. We have already seen, in +the Sophists, the phenomenon of subjectivism leading to scepticism. +The Sophists made the individual subject the measure of truth and +morals, and in the end this meant the denial of truth and morality +altogether. So it is now. The subjectivism of the Stoics and +Epicureans is followed by the scepticism of Pyrrho and his successors. +With them, as with the Sophists, nothing is true or good in itself, +but only opinion makes it so. +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="344">{344}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERXV">CHAPTER XV</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +THE STOICS +</p> +<p> +Zeno of Cyprus, the founder of the Stoic School, a Greek of Phoenician +descent, was born about 342 B.C., and died in 270. He is said to have +followed philosophy; because he lost all his property in a +ship-wreck--a motive characteristic of the age. He came to Athens, and +learned philosophy under Crates the Cynic, Stilpo the Megaric, and +Polemo the Academic. About 300 B.C. he founded his school at the Stoa +Poecile (many-coloured portico) whence the name Stoic. He died by his +own hand. He was followed by Cleanthes, and then by Chrysippus, as +leaders of the school. Chrysippus was a man of immense productivity +and laborious scholarship. He composed over seven hundred books, but +all are lost. Though not the founder, he was the chief pillar of +Stoicism. The school attracted many adherents, and flourished for many +centuries, not only in Greece, but later in Rome, where the most +thoughtful writers, such as Marcus Aurelius, Seneca, and Epictetus, +counted themselves among its followers. +</p> +<p> +We know little for certain as to what share particular Stoics, Zeno, +Cleanthes, or Chrysippus, had in the formation of the doctrines of the +school. But after Chrysippus the main lines of the doctrine were +complete. <a name="345">{345}</a> We shall deal, therefore, with Stoicism as a whole, +and not with the special teaching of particular Stoics. The system is +divided into three parts, Logic, Physics, and Ethics, of which the +first two are entirely subservient to the last. Stoicism is +essentially a system of ethics which, however, is guided by a logic as +theory of method, and rests upon physics as foundation. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +Logic. +</p> +<p> +We may pass over the formal logic of the Stoics, which is, in all +essentials, the logic of Aristotle. To this, however, they added a +theory, peculiar to themselves, of the origin of knowledge and the +criterion of truth. All knowledge, they said, enters the mind through +the senses. The mind is a <i>tabula rasa</i>, upon which sense-impressions +are inscribed. It may have a certain activity of its own, but this +activity is confined exclusively to materials supplied by the physical +organs of sense. This theory stands, of course, in sheer opposition to +the idealism of Plato, for whom the mind alone was the source of +knowledge, the senses being the sources of all illusion and error. The +Stoics denied the metaphysical reality of concepts. Concepts are +merely ideas in the mind, abstracted from particulars, and have no +reality outside consciousness. +</p> +<p> +Since all knowledge is a knowledge of sense-objects, truth is simply +the correspondence of our impressions to things. How are we to know +whether our ideas are correct copies of things? How distinguish +between reality and imagination, dreams, or illusions? What is the +criterion of truth? It cannot lie in concepts, since these are of our +own making. Nothing is true save <a name="346">{346}</a> sense-impressions, and +therefore the criterion of truth must lie in sensation itself. It +cannot be in thought, but must be in feeling. Real objects, said the +Stoics, produce in us an intense feeling, or conviction, of their +reality. The strength and vividness of the image distinguish these +real perceptions from a dream or fancy. Hence the sole criterion of +truth is this striking conviction, whereby the real forces itself upon +our consciousness, and will not be denied. The relapse into complete +subjectivity will here be noted. There is no universally grounded +criterion of truth. It is based, not on reason, but on feeling. All +depends on the subjective convictions of the individual. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +Physics. +</p> +<p> +The fundamental proposition of the Stoic physics is that "nothing +incorporeal exists." This materialism coheres with the sensationalism +of their doctrine of knowledge. Plato placed knowledge in thought, and +reality, therefore, in the Idea. The Stoics, however, place knowledge +in physical sensation, and reality, therefore, in what is known by the +senses, matter. All things, they said, even the soul, even God +himself, are material and nothing more than material. This belief they +based upon two main considerations. Firstly, the unity of the world +demands it. The world is one, and must issue from one principle. We +must have a monism. The idealism of Plato and Aristotle had resolved +itself into a futile struggle against the dualism of matter and +thought. Since the gulf cannot be bridged from the side of the Idea, +we must take our stand on matter, and reduce mind to it. Secondly, +body and soul, God and <a name="347">{347}</a> the world, are pairs which act and react +upon one another. The body, for example, produces thoughts +(sense-impressions) in the soul, the soul produces movements in the +body. This would be impossible if both were not of the same substance. +The corporeal cannot act on the incorporeal, nor the incorporeal on +the corporeal. There is no point of contact. Hence all must be equally +corporeal. +</p> +<p> +All things being material, what is the original kind of matter, or +stuff, out of which the world is made? The Stoics turned to +Heracleitus for an answer. Fire is the primordial kind of being, and +all things are composed of fire. With this materialism the Stoics +combined pantheism. The primal fire is God. God is related to the +world exactly as the soul to the body. The human soul is likewise +fire, and comes from the divine fire. It permeates and penetrates the +entire body, and, in order that its interpenetration might be regarded +as complete, the Stoics denied the impenetrability of matter. Just as +the soul-fire permeates the whole body, so God, the primal fire, +pervades the entire world. He is the soul of the world. The world is +His body. +</p> +<p> +But in spite of this materialism, the Stoics averred that God is +absolute reason. This is not a return to idealism. It does not imply +the incorporeality of God. For reason, like all else, is material. It +means simply that the divine fire is a rational element. Since God is +reason, it follows that the world is governed by reason, and this +means two things. It means, firstly, that there is purpose in the +world, and therefore, order, harmony, beauty, and design. Secondly, +since reason is law as opposed to the lawless, it means that the +universe is <a name="348">{348}</a> subject to the absolute sway of law, is governed by +the rigorous necessity of cause and effect. +</p> +<p> +Hence the individual is not free. There can be no true freedom of the +will in a world governed by necessity. We may, without harm, say that +we choose to do this or that, that our acts are voluntary. But such +phrases merely mean that we assent to what we do. What we do is none +the less governed by causes, and therefore by necessity. +</p> +<p> +The world-process is circular. God changes the fiery substance of +himself first into air, then water, then earth. So the world arises. +But it will be ended by a conflagration in which all things will +return into the primal fire. Thereafter, at a pre-ordained time, God +will again transmute himself into a world. It follows from the law of +necessity that the course taken by this second, and every subsequent, +world, will be identical in every way with the course taken by the +first world. The process goes on for ever, and nothing new ever +happens. The history of each successive world is the same as that of +all the others down to the minutest details. +</p> +<p> +The human soul is part of the divine fire, and proceeds into man from +God. Hence it is a rational soul, and this is a point of cardinal +importance in connexion with the Stoic ethics. But the soul of each +individual does not come direct from God. The divine fire was breathed +into the first man, and thereafter passes from parent to child in the +act of procreation. After death, all souls, according to some, but +only the souls of the good, according to others, continue in +individual existence until the general conflagration in which they, +and all else, return to God. +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="349">{349}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +Ethics. +</p> +<p> +The Stoic ethical teaching is based upon two principles already +developed in their physics; first, that the universe is governed by +absolute law, which admits of no exceptions; and second, that the +essential nature of man is reason. Both are summed up in the famous +Stoic maxim, "Live according to nature." For this maxim has two +aspects. It means, in the first place, that men should conform +themselves to nature in the wider sense, that is, to the laws of the +universe, and secondly, that they should conform their actions to +nature in the narrower sense, to their own essential nature, reason. +These two expressions mean, for the Stoics, the same thing. For the +universe is governed not only by law, but by the law of reason, and +man in following his own rational nature is <i>ipso facto</i> conforming +himself to the laws of the larger world. In a sense, of course, there +is no possibility of man's disobeying the laws of nature, for he, like +all else in the world, acts of necessity. And it might be asked, what +is the use of exhorting a man to obey the laws of the universe, when, +as part of the great mechanism of the world, he cannot by any +possibility do anything else? It is not to be supposed that a genuine +solution of this difficulty is to be found in Stoic philosophy. They +urged, however, that, though man will in any case do as the necessity +of the world compels him, it is given to him alone, not merely to obey +the law, but to assent to his own obedience, to follow the law +consciously and deliberately, as only a rational being can. +</p> +<p> +Virtue, then, is the life according to reason. Morality is simply +rational action. It is the universal reason which is to govern our +lives, not the caprice and self-will <a name="350">{350}</a> of the individual. The wise +man consciously subordinates his life to the life of the whole +universe, and recognises himself as merely a cog in the great machine. +Now the definition of morality as the life according to reason is not +a principle peculiar to the Stoics. Both Plato and Aristotle taught +the same. In fact, as we have already seen, to found morality upon +reason, and not upon the particular foibles, feelings, or intuitions, +of the individual self, is the basis of every genuine ethic. But what +was peculiar to the Stoics was the narrow and one-sided interpretation +which they gave to this principle. Aristotle had taught that the +essential nature of man is reason, and that morality consists in +following this, his essential nature. But he recognized that the +passions and appetites have their place in the human organism. He did +not demand their suppression, but merely their control by reason. But +the Stoics looked upon the passions as essentially irrational, and +demanded their complete extirpation. They envisaged life as a battle +against the passions, in which the latter had to be completely +annihilated. Hence their ethical views end in a rigorous and +unbalanced asceticism. +</p> +<p> +Aristotle, in his broad and moderate way, though he believed virtue +alone to possess intrinsic value, yet allowed to external goods and +circumstances a place in the scheme of life. The Stoics asserted that +virtue alone is good, vice alone evil, and that all else is absolutely +indifferent. Poverty, sickness, pain, and death, are not evils. +Riches, health, pleasure, and life, are not goods. A man may commit +suicide, for in destroying his life he destroys nothing of value. +Above all, pleasure is not a good. One ought not to seek pleasure. +Virtue is <a name="351">{351}</a> the only happiness. And man must be virtuous, not for +the sake of pleasure, but for the sake of duty. And since virtue alone +is good, vice alone evil, there followed the further paradox that all +virtues are equally good, and all vices equally evil. There are no +degrees. +</p> +<p> +Virtue is founded upon reason, and so upon knowledge. Hence the +importance of science, physics, logic, which are valued not for +themselves, but because they are the foundations of morality. The +prime virtue, and the root of all other virtues, is therefore wisdom. +The wise man is synonymous with the good man. From the root-virtue, +wisdom, spring the four cardinal virtues, insight, bravery, +self-control, justice. But since all virtues have one root, he who +possesses wisdom possesses all virtue, he who lacks it lacks all. A +man is either wholly virtuous, or wholly vicious. The world is divided +into wise men and fools, the former perfectly good, the latter +absolutely evil. There is nothing between the two. There is no such +thing as a gradual transition from one to the other. Conversion must +be instantaneous. The wise man is perfect, has all happiness, freedom, +riches, beauty. He alone is the perfect king, statesman, poet, +prophet, orator, critic, physician. The fool has all vice, all misery, +all ugliness, all poverty. And every man is one or the other. Asked +where such a wise man was to be found, the Stoics pointed doubtfully +at Socrates and Diogenes the Cynic. The number of the wise, they +thought, is small, and is continually growing smaller. The world, +which they painted in the blackest colours as a sea of vice and +misery, grows steadily worse. +</p> +<p> +In all this we easily recognize the features of a resuscitated +Cynicism. But the Stoics modified and softened <a name="352">{352}</a> the harsh +outlines of Cynicism, and rounded off its angles. To do this meant +inconsistency. It meant that they first laid down harsh principles, +and then proceeded to tone them down, to explain them away, to admit +exceptions. Such inconsistency the Stoics accepted with their habitual +cheerfulness. This process of toning down their first harsh utterances +took place mainly in three ways. In the first place, they modified +their principle of the complete extirpation of the passions. Since +this is impossible, and, if possible, could only lead to immovable +inactivity, they admitted that the wise man might exhibit certain mild +and rational emotions, and that the roots of the passions might be +found in him, though he never allowed them to grow. In the second +place, they modified their principle that all else, save virtue and +vice, is indifferent. Such a view is unreal, and out of accord with +life. Hence the Stoics, with a masterly disregard of consistency, +stuck to the principle, and yet declared that among things indifferent +some are preferable to others. If the wise man has the choice between +health and sickness, he will choose the former. Indifferent things +were divided into three classes, those to be preferred, those to be +avoided, and those which are absolutely indifferent. In the third +place, the Stoics toned down the principle that men are either wholly +good, or wholly evil. The famous heroes and statesmen of history, +though fools, are yet polluted with the common vices of mankind less +than others. Moreover, what were the Stoics to say about themselves? +Were they wise men or fools? They hesitated to claim perfection, to +put themselves on a level with Socrates and Diogenes. Yet they could +not bring themselves to admit that there was <a name="353">{353}</a> no difference +between themselves and the common herd. They were "proficients," and, +if not absolutely wise, approximated to wisdom. +</p> +<p> +If the Stoics were thus merely less consistent Cynics, and originated +nothing in the doctrines of physics and ethics so far considered, yet +of one idea at least they can claim to be the inventors. This was the +idea of cosmopolitanism. This they deduced from two grounds. Firstly, +the universe is one, proceeds from one God, is ordered by one law, and +forms one system. Secondly, however much men may differ in +unessentials, they share their essential nature, their reason, in +common. Hence all men are of one stock, as rational beings, and should +form one State. The division of mankind into warring States is +irrational and absurd. The wise man is not a citizen of this or that +State. He is a citizen of the world. +</p> +<p> +This is, however, only an application of principles already asserted. +The Stoics produced no essentially new thought, in physics, or in +ethics. Their entire stock of ideas is but a new combination of ideas +already developed by their predecessors. They were narrow, extreme, +over-rigorous, and one-sided. Their truths are all half-truths. And +they regarded philosophy too subjectively. What alone interested them +was the question, how am I to live? Yet in spite of these defects, +there is undoubtedly something grand and noble about their zeal for +duty, their exaltation above all that is petty and paltry, their +uncompromising contempt for all lower ends. Their merit, says +Schwegler, was that "in an age of ruin they held fast by the moral +idea." +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="354">{354}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERXVI">CHAPTER XVI</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +THE EPICUREANS +</p> +<p> +Epicurus was born at Samos in 342 B.C. He founded his school a year or +two before Zeno founded the Stoa, so that the two schools from the +first ran parallel in time. The school of Epicurus lasted over six +centuries. Epicurus early became acquainted with the atomism of +Democritus, but his learning in earlier systems of philosophy does not +appear to have been extensive. He was a man of estimable life and +character. He founded his school in 306 B.C. The Epicurean philosophy +was both founded and completed by him. No subsequent Epicurean to any +appreciable extent added to or altered the doctrines laid down by the +founder. +</p> +<p> +The Epicurean system is even more purely practical in tendency than +the Stoic. In spite of the fact that Stoicism subordinates logic and +physics to ethics, yet the diligence and care which the Stoics +bestowed upon such doctrines as those of the criterion of truth, the +nature of the world, the soul, and so on, afford evidence of a +genuine, if subordinate, interest in these subjects. Epicurus likewise +divided his system into logic (which he called canonic), physics, and +ethics, yet the two former branches of thought are pursued with an +obvious carelessness and absence of interest. It is evident that +learned <a name="355">{355}</a> discussions bored Epicurus. His system is amiable and +shallow. Knowledge for its own sake is not desired. Mathematics, he +said, are useless, because they have no connexion with life. The +logic, or canonic, we may pass over completely, as possessing no +elements of interest, and come at once to the physics. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +Physics. +</p> +<p> +Physics interests Epicurus only from one point of view--its power to +banish superstitious fear from the minds of men. All supernatural +religion, he thought, operates for the most part upon mankind by means +of fear. Men are afraid of the gods, afraid of retribution, afraid of +death because of the stories of what comes after death. This incessant +fear and anxiety is one of the chief causes of the unhappiness of men. +Destroy it, and we have at least got rid of the prime hindrance to +human happiness. We can only do this by means of a suitable doctrine +of physics. What is necessary is to be able to regard the world as a +piece of mechanism, governed solely by natural causes, without any +interference by supernatural beings, in which man is free to find his +happiness how and when he will, without being frightened by the bogeys +of popular religion. For though the world is ruled mechanically, man, +thought Epicurus in opposition to the Stoics, possesses free will, and +the problem of philosophy is to ascertain how he can best use this +gift in a world otherwise mechanically governed. What he required, +therefore, was a purely mechanical philosophy. To invent such a +philosophy for himself was a task not suited to his indolence, and for +which he could not pretend to possess the necessary <a name="356">{356}</a> +qualifications. Therefore he searched the past, and soon found what he +wanted in the atomism of Democritus. This, as an entirely mechanical +philosophy, perfectly suited his ends, and the pragmatic spirit in +which he chose his beliefs, not on any abstract grounds of their +objective truth, but on the basis of his subjective needs and personal +wishes, will be noted. It is a sign of the times. When truth comes to +be regarded as something that men may construct in accordance with +their real or imagined needs, and not in accordance with any objective +standard, we are well advanced upon the downward path of decay. +Epicurus, therefore, adopted the atomism of Democritus <i>en bloc</i>, or +with trifling modifications. All things are composed of atoms and the +void. Atoms differ only in shape and weight, not in quality. They fall +eternally through the void. By virtue of free will, they deviate +infinitesimally from the perpendicular in their fall, and so clash +against one another. This, of course, is an invention of Epicurus, and +formed no part of the doctrine of Democritus. It might be expected of +Epicurus that his modifications would not be improvements. In the +present case, the attribution of free will to the atoms adversely +affects the logical consistency of the mechanical theory. From the +collision of atoms arises a whirling movement out of which the world +emerges. Not only the world, but all individual phenomena, are to be +explained mechanically. Teleology is rigorously excluded. In any +particular case, however, Epicurus is not interested to know what +particular causes determine a phenomenon. It is enough for him to be +sure that it is wholly determined by mechanical causes, and that +supernatural agencies are excluded. +</p> +<p> +<a name="357">{357}</a> +</p> +<p> +The soul being composed of atoms which are scattered at death, a +future life is not to be thought of. But this is to be regarded as the +greatest blessing. It frees us from the fear of death, and the fear of +a hereafter. Death is not an evil. For if death is, we are not; if we +are, death is not. When death comes we shall not feel it, for is it +not the end of all feeling and consciousness? And there is no reason +to fear now what we know that we shall not feel when it comes. +</p> +<p> +Having thus disposed of the fear of retribution in a future life, +Epicurus proceeds to dispose of the fear of the interference of the +gods in this life. One might have expected that Epicurus would for +this purpose have embraced atheism. But he does not deny the existence +of the gods. On the contrary, he believed that there are innumerable +gods. They have the form of men, because that is the most beautiful of +all forms. They have distinctions in sex. They eat, drink, and talk +Greek. Their bodies are composed of a substance like light. But though +Epicurus allows them to exist, he is careful to disarm them, and to +rob them of their fears. They live in the interstellar spaces, an +immortal, calm, and blessed existence. They do not intervene in the +affairs of the world, because they are perfectly happy. Why should +they burden themselves with the control of that which nowise concerns +them? Theirs is the beatitude of a wholly untroubled joy. +</p> +<pre> + "Immortal are they, clothed with powers, + Not to be comforted at all, + Lords over all the fruitless hours, + Too great to appease, too high to appal, + Too far to call." + [Footnote 17] +</pre> +<p class="footnote"> +[Footnote 17: A. C. Swinburne's <i>Felise</i>.] +</p> +<p> +<a name="358">{358}</a> +</p> +<p> +Man, therefore, freed from the fear of death and the fear of the gods, +has no duty save to live as happily as he can during his brief space +upon earth. We can quit the realm of physics with a light heart, and +turn to what alone truly matters, ethics, the consideration of how man +ought to conduct his life. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +Ethics. +</p> +<p> +If the Stoics were the intellectual successors of the Cynics, the +Epicureans bear the same relation to the Cyrenaics. Like Aristippus, +they founded morality upon pleasure, but they differ because they +developed a purer and nobler conception of pleasure than the Cyrenaics +had known. Pleasure alone is an end in itself. It is the only good. +Pain is the only evil. Morality, therefore, is an activity which +yields pleasure. Virtue has no value on its own account, but derives +its value from the pleasure which accompanies it. +</p> +<p> +This is the only foundation which Epicurus could find, or desired to +find, for moral activity. This is his only ethical principle. The rest +of the Epicurean ethics consists in the interpretation of the idea of +pleasure. And, firstly, by pleasure Epicurus did not mean, as the +Cyrenaics did, merely the pleasure of the moment, whether physical or +mental. He meant the pleasure that endures throughout a lifetime, a +happy life. Hence we are not to allow ourselves to be enslaved by any +particular pleasure or desire. We must master our appetites. We must +often forego a pleasure if it leads in the end to greater pain. We +must be ready to undergo pain for the sake of a greater pleasure to +come. +</p> +<p> +And it was just for this reason, secondly, that the <a name="359">{359}</a> Epicureans +regarded spiritual and mental pleasures as far more important than +those of the body. For the body feels pleasure and pain only while +they last. The body has in itself neither memory nor fore-knowledge. +It is the mind which remembers and foresees. And by far the most +potent pleasures and pains are those of remembrance and anticipation. +A physical pleasure is a pleasure to the body only now. But the +anticipation of a future pain is mental anxiety, the remembrance of a +past joy is a present delight. Hence what is to be aimed at above all +is a calm untroubled mind, for the pleasures of the body are +ephemeral, those of the spirit enduring. The Epicureans, like the +Stoics, preached the necessity of superiority to bodily pains and +external circumstances. So a man must not depend for his happiness +upon externals; he must have his blessedness in his own self. The wise +man can be happy even in bodily torment, for in the inner tranquillity +of his soul he possesses a happiness which far outweighs any bodily +pain. Yet innocent pleasures of sense are neither forbidden, nor to be +despised. The wise man will enjoy whatever he can without harm. Of all +mental pleasures the Epicureans laid, perhaps, most stress upon +friendship. The school was not merely a collection of +fellow-philosophers, but above all a society of friends. +</p> +<p> +Thirdly, the Epicurean ideal of pleasure tended rather towards a +negative than a positive conception of it. It was not the state of +enjoyment that they aimed at, much less the excitement of the +feelings. Not the feverish pleasures of the world constituted their +ideal. They aimed rather at a negative absence of pain, at +tranquillity, quiet calm, repose of spirit, undisturbed by fears and +<a name="360">{360}</a> anxieties. As so often with men whose ideal is pleasure, their +view of the world was tinged with a gentle and even luxurious +pessimism. Positive happiness is beyond the reach of mortals. All that +man can hope for is to avoid pain, and to live in quiet contentment. +</p> +<p> +Fourthly, pleasure does not consist in the multiplication of needs and +their subsequent satisfaction. The multiplication of wants only +renders it more difficult to satisfy them. It complicates life without +adding to happiness. We should have as few needs as possible. Epicurus +himself lived a simple life, and advised his followers to do the same. +The wise man, he said, living on bread and water, could vie with Zeus +himself in happiness. Simplicity, cheerfulness, moderation, +temperance, are the best means to happiness. The majority of human +wants, and the example of the thirst for fame is quoted, are entirely +unnecessary and useless. +</p> +<p> +Lastly, the Epicurean ideal, though containing no possibility of an +exalted nobility, was yet by no means entirely selfish. A kindly, +benevolent temper appeared in these men. It is pleasanter, they said, +to do a kindness than to receive one. There is little of the stern +stuff of heroes, but there is much that is gentle and lovable, in the +amiable moralizings of these butterfly-philosophers. +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="361">{361}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERXVII">CHAPTER XVII</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +THE SCEPTICS +</p> +<p> +Scepticism is a semi-technical term in philosophy, and means the +doctrine which doubts or denies the possibility of knowledge. It is +thus destructive of philosophy, since philosophy purports to be a form +of knowledge. Scepticism appears and reappears at intervals in the +history of thought. We have already met with it among the Sophists. +When Gorgias said that, if anything exists, it cannot be known, this +was a direct expression of the sceptical spirit. And the Protagorean +"Man is the measure of all things" amounts to the same thing, for it +implies that man can only know things as they appear to him, and not +as they are in themselves. In modern times the most noted sceptic was +David Hume, who attempted to show that the most fundamental categories +of thought, such as substance and causality, are illusory, and thereby +to undermine the fabric of knowledge. Subjectivism usually ends in +scepticism. For knowledge is the relation of subject and object, and +to lay exclusive emphasis upon one of its terms, the subject, ignoring +the object, leads to the denial of the reality of everything except +that which appears to the subject. This was so with the Sophists. And +now we have the reappearance of a similar <a name="362">{362}</a> phenomenon. The +Sceptics, of whom we are about to treat, made their appearance at +about the same time as the Stoics and Epicureans. The subjective +tendencies of these latter schools find their logical conclusion in +the Sceptics. Scepticism makes its appearance usually, but not always, +when the spiritual forces of a race are in decay. When its spiritual +and intellectual impulses are spent, the spirit flags, grows weary, +loses confidence, begins to doubt its power of finding truth; and the +despair of truth is scepticism. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +Pyrrho. +</p> +<p> +The first to introduce a thorough-going scepticism among the Greeks +was Pyrrho. He was born about 360 B.C., and was originally a painter. +He took part in the Indian expedition of Alexander the Great. He left +no writings, and we owe our knowledge of his thoughts chiefly to his +disciple Timon of Phlius. His philosophy, in common with all +post-Aristotelian systems, is purely practical in its outlook. +Scepticism, the denial of knowledge, is not posited on account of its +speculative interest, but only because Pyrrho sees in it the road to +happiness, and the escape from the calamities of life. +</p> +<p> +The proper course of the sage, said Pyrrho, is to ask himself three +questions. Firstly, he must ask what things are and how they are +constituted; secondly, how we are related to these things; thirdly, +what ought to be our attitude towards them. As to what things are, we +can only answer that we know nothing. We only know how things appear +to us, but of their inner substance we are ignorant. The same thing +appears differently to different people, and therefore it is <a name="363">{363}</a> +impossible to know which opinion is right. The diversity of opinion +among the wise, as well as among the vulgar, proves this. To every +assertion the contradictory assertion can be opposed with equally good +grounds, and whatever my opinion, the contrary opinion is believed by +somebody else who is quite as clever and competent to judge as I am. +Opinion we may have, but certainty and knowledge are impossible. Hence +our attitude to things (the third question), ought to be complete +suspense of judgment. We can be certain of nothing, not even of the +most trivial assertions. Therefore we ought never to make any positive +statements on any subject. And the Pyrrhonists were careful to import +an element of doubt even into the most trifling assertions which they +might make in the course of their daily life. They did not say, "it is +so," but "it seems so," or "it appears so to me." Every observation +would be prefixed with a "perhaps," or "it may be." +</p> +<p> +This absence of certainty applies as much to practical as to +theoretical matters. Nothing is in itself true or false. It only +appears so. In the same way, nothing is in itself good or evil. It is +only opinion, custom, law, which makes it so. When the sage realizes +this, he will cease to prefer one course of action to another, and the +result will be apathy, <i>"ataraxia."</i> All action is the result of +preference, and preference is the belief that one thing is better than +another. If I go to the north, it is because, for one reason or +another, I believe that it is better than going to the south. Suppress +this belief, learn that the one is not in reality better than the +other, but only appears so, and one would go in no direction at all. +Complete suppression of opinion would mean complete <a name="364">{364}</a> suppression +of action, and it was at this that Pyrrho aimed. To have no opinions +was the sceptical maxim, because in practice it meant apathy, total +quietism. All action is founded on belief, and all belief is delusion, +hence the absence of all activity is the ideal of the sage. In this +apathy he will renounce all desires, for desire is the opinion that +one thing is better than another. He will live in complete repose, in +undisturbed tranquillity of soul, free from all delusions. Unhappiness +is the result of not attaining what one desires, or of losing it when +attained. The wise man, being free from desires, is free from +unhappiness. He knows that, though men struggle and fight for what +they desire, vainly supposing some things better than others, such +activity is but a futile struggle about nothing, for all things are +equally indifferent, and nothing matters. Between health and sickness, +life and death, difference there is none. Yet in so far as the sage is +compelled to act, he will follow probability, opinion, custom, and +law, but without any belief in the essential validity or truth of +these criteria. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +The New Academy. +</p> +<p> +The scepticism founded by Pyrrho soon became extinct, but an +essentially similar doctrine began to be taught in the school of +Plato. After the death of Plato, the Academy continued, under various +leaders, to follow in the path marked out by the founder. But, under +the leadership of Arcesilaus, scepticism was introduced into the +school, and from that time, therefore, it is usually known as the New +Academy, for though its historical continuity as a school was not +broken, its essential character underwent change. What especially +<a name="365">{365}</a> characterized the New Academy was its fierce opposition to the +Stoics, whom its members attacked as the chief dogmatists of the time. +Dogmatism, for us, usually means making assertions without proper +grounds. But since scepticism regards all assertions as equally +ill-grounded, the holding of any positive opinion whatever is by it +regarded as dogmatism. The Stoics were the most powerful, influential, +and forceful of all those who at that time held any positive +philosophical opinions. Hence they were singled out for attack by the +New Academy as the greatest of dogmatists. Arcesilaus attacked +especially their doctrine of the criterion of truth. The striking +conviction which, according to the Stoics, accompanies truth, equally +accompanies error. There is no criterion of truth, either in sense or +in reason. "I am certain of nothing," said Arcesilaus; "I am not even +certain that I am certain of nothing." +</p> +<p> +But the Academics did not draw from their scepticism, as Pyrrho had +done, the full logical conclusion as regards action. Men, they +thought, must act. And, although certainty and knowledge are +impossible, probability is a sufficient guide for action. +</p> +<p> +Carneades is usually considered the greatest of the Academic Sceptics. +Yet he added nothing essentially new to their conclusions. He appears, +however, to have been a man of singularly acute and powerful mind, +whose destructive criticism acted like a battering-ram not only upon +Stoicism, but upon all established philosophies. As examples of his +thoughts may be mentioned the two following. Firstly, nothing can ever +be proved. For the conclusion must be proved by premises, which in +turn require proof, and so <i>ad infinitum</i>. Secondly, <a name="366">{366}</a> it is +impossible to know whether our ideas of an object are true, i.e., +whether they resemble the object, because we cannot compare our idea +with the object itself. To do so would involve getting outside our own +minds. We know nothing of the object except our idea of it, and +therefore we cannot compare the original and the copy, since we can +see only the copy. +</p> +<br> +<p align=center> +Later Scepticism. +</p> +<p> +After a period of obliteration, Scepticism again revived in the +Academy. Of this last phase of Greek scepticism, Aenesidemus, a +contemporary of Cicero, is the earliest example, and later we have the +well-known names of Simplicius and Sextus Empiricus. The distinctive +character of later scepticism is its return to the position of Pyrrho. +The New Academy, in its eagerness to overthrow the Stoic dogmatism, +had fallen into a dogmatism of its own. If the Stoics dogmatically +asserted, the Academics equally dogmatically denied. But wisdom lies +neither in assertion nor denial, but in doubt. Hence the later +Sceptics returned to the attitude of complete suspense of judgment. +Moreover, the Academics had allowed the possibility of probable +knowledge. And even this is now regarded as dogmatism. Aenesidemus was +the author of the ten well-known arguments to show the impossibility +of knowledge. They contain in reality, not ten, but only two or three +distinct ideas, several being merely different expressions of the same +line of reasoning. They are as follows. (1) The feelings and +perceptions of all living beings differ. (2) Men have physical and +mental differences, which make things appear different to them. (3) +The different senses give different <a name="367">{367}</a> impressions of things. (4) +Our perceptions depend on our physical and intellectual conditions at +the time of perception. (5) Things appear different in different +positions, and at different distances. (6) Perception is never direct, +but always through a medium. For example, we see things through the +air. (7) Things appear different according to variations in their +quantity, colour, motion, and temperature. (8) A thing impresses us +differently when it is familiar and when it is unfamiliar. (9) All +supposed knowledge is predication. All predicates give us only the +relation of things to other things or to ourselves; they never tell us +what the thing in itself is. (10) The opinions and customs of men are +different in different countries. +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="368">{368}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERXVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +TRANSITION TO NEO-PLATONISM +</p> +<p> +It has been doubted whether Neo-Platonism ought to be included in +Greek philosophy at all, and Erdmann, in his "History of Philosophy," +places it in the medieval division. For, firstly, an interval of no +less than five centuries separates the foundation of Neo-Platonism +from the foundation of the preceding Greek schools, the Stoic, the +Epicurean, and the Sceptic. How long a period this is will be seen if +we remember that the entire development of Greek thought from Thales +to the Sceptics occupied only about three centuries. Plotinus, the +real founder of Neo-Platonism, was born in 205 A.D., so that it is, as +far as historical time is concerned, a product of the Christian era. +Secondly, its character is largely un-Greek and un-European. The Greek +elements are largely swamped by oriental mysticism. Its seat was not +in Greece, but at Alexandria, which was not a Greek, but a +cosmopolitan, city. Men of all races met here, and, in particular, it +was here that East and West joined hands, and the fusion of thought +which resulted was Neo-Platonism. But, on the other hand, it seems +wrong to include the thought of Plotinus and his successors in +medieval philosophy. The whole character of what is usually called +medieval philosophy was determined by its growth upon a distinctively +Christian soil. It was <a name="369">{369}</a> Christian philosophy. It was the product +of the new era which Christianity had substituted for paganism. +Neo-Platonism, on the other hand, is not only unchristian, but even +anti-christian. The only Christian influence to be detected in it is +that of opposition. It is a survival of the pagan spirit in Christian +times. In it the old pagan spirit struggles desperately against its +younger antagonist, and finally succumbs. In it we see the last gasp +and final expiry of the ancient culture of the Greeks. So far as it is +not Asiatic in its elements, it draws its inspiration wholly from the +philosophies of the past, from the thought and culture of Greece. On +the whole, therefore, it is properly classified as the last school of +Greek philosophy. +</p> +<p> +The long interval of time which elapsed between the rise of the +preceding Greek schools, whose history we have traced, and the +foundation of Neo-Platonism, was filled up by the continued existence, +in more or less fossilized form, of the main Greek schools, the +Academic, the Peripatetic, the Stoic, and the Epicurean, scattered and +harried at times by the inroads of scepticism. It would be wearisome +to follow in detail the development in these schools, and the more or +less trifling disputes of which it consists. No new thought, no +original principle, supervened. It is sufficient to say that, as time +went on, the differences between the schools became softened, and +their agreements became more prominent. As intellectual vigour wanes, +there is always the tendency to forget differences, to rest, as the +orientals do, in the good-natured and comfortable delusion that all +religions and all philosophies really mean much the same thing. Hence +eclecticism became characteristic of the schools. <a name="370">{370}</a> They did not +keep themselves distinct. We find Stoic doctrines taught by Academics, +Academic doctrines by Stoics. Only the Epicureans kept their race +pure, and stood aloof from the general eclecticism of the time. +Certain other tendencies also made their appearance. There was a +recrudescence of Pythagoreanism, with its attendant symbolism and +mysticism. There grew up a tendency to exalt the conception of God so +high above the world, to widen so greatly the gulf which divides them, +that it was felt that there could be no community between the two, +that God could not act upon matter, nor matter upon God. Such +interaction would contaminate the purity of the Absolute. Hence all +kinds of beings were invented, demons, spirits, and angels, intended +to fill up the gap, and to act as intermediaries between God and the +world. +</p> +<p> +As an example of these latter tendencies, and as precursor of +Neo-Platonism proper, Philo the Jew deserves a brief mention. He lived +at Alexandria between 30 B.C. and 50 A.D. A staunch upholder of the +religion and scriptures of the Hebrew race, he believed in the verbal +inspiration of the Old Testament. But he was learned in Greek studies, +and thought that Greek philosophy was a dimmer revelation of those +truths which were more perfectly manifested in the sacred books of his +own race. And just as Egyptian priests, out of national vanity, made +out that Greek philosophy came from Egypt, just as orientals now +pretend that it came from India, so Philo declared that the origin of +all that was great in Greek philosophy was to be found in Judea. Plato +and Aristotle, he was certain, were followers of Moses, used the Old +Testament, and gained their wisdom therefrom! <a name="371">{371}</a> Philo's own ideas +were governed by the attempt to fuse Jewish theology and Greek +philosophy into a homogeneous system. It was Philo, therefore, who was +largely responsible for contaminating the pure clear air of Greek +thought with the enervating fogs of oriental mysticism. +</p> +<p> +Philo taught that God, as the absolutely infinite, must be elevated +completely above all that is finite. No name, no thought, can +correspond to the infinity of God. He is the unthinkable and the +ineffable, and His nature is beyond the reach of reason. The human +soul reaches up to God, not through thought, but by means of a +mystical inner illumination and revelation that transcends thought. +God cannot act directly upon the world, for this would involve His +defilement by matter and the limitation of His infinity. There are +therefore intermediate spiritual beings, who, as the ministers of God, +created and control the world. All these intermediaries are included +in the Logos, which is the rational thought which governs the world. +The relation of God to the Logos, and of the Logos to the world, is +one of progressive emanation. Clearly the idea of emanation is a mere +metaphor which explains nothing, and this becomes more evident when +Philo compares the emanations to rays of light issuing from an +effulgent centre and growing less and less bright as they radiate +outwards. When we hear this, we know in what direction we are moving. +This has the characteristic ring of Asiatic pseudo-philosophy. It +reminds us forcibly of the Upanishads. We are passing out of the realm +of thought, reason, and philosophy, into the dream-and-shadow-land of +oriental mysticism, where the heavy scents of beautiful poison flowers +drug the intellect and obliterate thought in a blissful and languorous +repose. +</p> +<br> +<p> +<a name="372">{372}</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +<a name="CHAPTERXIX">CHAPTER XIX</a> +</p> +<p align=center> +THE NEO-PLATONISTS +</p> +<p> +The word Neo-Platonism is a misnomer. It does not stand for a genuine +revival of Platonism. The Neo-Platonists were no doubt the offspring +of Plato, but they were the illegitimate offspring. The true greatness +of Plato lay in his rationalistic idealism; his defects were mostly +connected with his tendency to myth and mysticism. The Neo-Platonists +hailed his defects as the true and inner secret of his doctrine, +developed them out of all recognition, and combined them with the hazy +dream-philosophies of the East. The reputed founder was Ammonius +Saccas, but we may pass him over and come at once to his disciple +Plotinus, who was the first to develop Neo-Platonism into a system, +was the greatest of all its exponents, and may be regarded as its real +founder. He was born in 205 A.D. at Lycopolis in Egypt, went to Rome +in 245, founded his School there, and remained at the head of it till +his death in 270. He left extensive writings which have been +preserved. +</p> +<p> +Plato had shown that the idea of the One, exclusive of all +multiplicity, was an impossible abstraction. Even to say "the One is," +involves the duality of the One. The Absolute Being can be no abstract +unity, but only a unity in multiplicity. Plotinus begins by ignoring +this <a name="373">{373}</a> supremely important philosophical principle. He falls back +upon the lower level of oriental monism. God, he thinks, is absolutely +One. He is the unity which lies beyond all multiplicity. There is in +him no plurality, no movement, no distinction. Thought involves the +distinction between object and subject; therefore the One is above and +beyond thought. Nor is the One describable in terms of volition or +activity. For volition involves the distinction between the willer and +the willed, activity between the actor and that upon which he acts. +God, therefore, is neither thought, nor volition, nor activity. He is +beyond all thought and all being. As absolutely infinite, He is also +absolutely indeterminate. All predicates limit their subject, and +hence nothing can be predicated of the One. He is unthinkable, for all +thought limits and confines that which is thought. He is the ineffable +and inconceivable. The sole predicates which Plotinus applies to Him +are the One and the Good. He sees, however, that these predicates, as +much as any others, limit the infinite. He regards them, therefore, +not as literally expressing the nature of the infinite, but as +figuratively shadowing it forth. They are applied by analogy only. We +can, in truth, know nothing of the One, except that it <i>is</i>. +</p> +<p> +Now it is impossible to derive the world from a first principle of +this kind. As being utterly exalted above the world, God cannot enter +into the world. As absolutely infinite, He can never limit Himself to +become finite, and so give rise to the world of objects. As absolutely +One, the many can never issue out of Him. The One cannot create the +world, for creation is an activity, and the One is immutable and +excludes all <a name="374">{374}</a> activity. As the infinite first principle of all +things, the One must be regarded as in some sense the source of all +being. And yet how it can give rise to being is inconceivable, since +any such act destroys its unity and infinity. We saw once for all, in +the case of the Eleatics, that it is fatal to define the Absolute as +unity exclusive of all multiplicity, as immutable essence exclusive of +all process, and that if we do so we cut off all hope of showing how +the world has issued from the Absolute. It is just the same with +Plotinus. There is in his system the absolute contradiction that the +One is regarded, on the one hand, as source of the world, and on the +other as so exalted above the world that all relationship to the world +is impossible. We come, therefore, to a complete deadlock at this +point. We can get no further. We can find no way to pass from God to +the world. We are involved in a hopeless, logical contradiction. But +Plotinus was a mystic, and logical absurdities do not trouble mystics. +Being unable to explain how the world can possibly arise out of the +vacuum of the One, he has recourse, in the oriental style, to poetry +and metaphors. God, by reason of His super-perfection, "overflows" +Himself, and this overflow becomes the world. He "sends forth a beam" +from Himself. As flame emits light, as snow cold, so do all lower +beings issue from the One. Thus, without solving the difficulty, +Plotinus deftly smothers it in flowery phrases, and quietly passes on +his way. +</p> +<p> +The first emanation from the One is called the Nous. This Nous is +thought, mind, reason. We have seen that Plato regarded the Absolute +itself as thought. For Plotinus, however, thought is derivative. The +One is beyond thought, and thought issues forth from the One <a name="375">{375}</a> as +first emanation. The Nous is not discursive thought, however. It is +not in time. It is immediate apprehension, or intuition. Its object is +twofold. Firstly, it thinks the One, though its thought thereof is +necessarily inadequate. Secondly, it thinks itself. It is the thought +of thought, like Aristotle's God. It corresponds to Plato's world of +Ideas. The Ideas of all things exist in the Nous, and not only the +Ideas of classes, but of every individual thing. +</p> +<p> +From the Nous, as second emanation, proceeds the world-soul. This is, +in Erdmann's phrase, a sort of faded-out copy of the Nous, and it is +outside time, incorporeal, and indivisible. It works rationally, but +yet is not conscious. It has a two-fold aspect, inclining upwards to +the Nous on the one hand, and downwards to the world of nature on the +other. It produces out of itself the individual souls which inhabit +the world. +</p> +<p> +The idea of emanation is essentially a poetical metaphor, and not a +rational concept. It is conceived poetically by Plotinus as resembling +light which radiates from a bright centre, and grows dimmer as it +passes outwards, till it shades off at last into total darkness. This +total darkness is matter. Matter, as negation of light, as the limit +of being, is in itself not-being. Thus the crucial difficulty of all +Greek philosophy, the problem of the whence of matter, the dualism of +matter and thought, which we have seen Plato and Aristotle struggling +in vain to subjugate, is loosely and lightly slurred over by Plotinus +with poetic metaphors and roseate phrases. +</p> +<p> +Matter Plotinus considers to be the ground of plurality and the cause +of all evil. Hence the object of life can <a name="376">{376}</a> only be, as with +Plato, to escape from the material world of the senses. The first step +in this process of liberation is <i>"katharsis,"</i> purification, the +freeing of oneself from the dominion of the body and the senses. This +includes all the ordinary ethical virtues. The second step is thought, +reason, and philosophy. In the third stage the soul rises above +thought to an intuition of the Nous. But all these are merely +preparatory for the supreme and final stage of exaltation into the +Absolute One, by means of trance, rapture, ecstasy. Here all thought +is transcended, and the soul passes into a state of unconscious swoon, +during which it is mystically united with God. It is not a thought of +God, it is not even that the soul sees God, for all such conscious +activities involve the separation of the subject from its object. In +the ecstasy all such disunion and separation are annihilated. The soul +does not look upon God from the outside. It becomes one with God. It +is God. Such mystical raptures can, in the nature of the case, only be +momentary, and the soul sinks back exhausted to the levels of ordinary +consciousness. Plotinus claimed to have been exalted in this divine +ecstasy several times during his life. +</p> +<p> +After Plotinus Neo-Platonism continues with modifications in his +successors, Porphyry, Iamblicus, Syrianus, Proclus, and others. +</p> +<p> +The essential character of Neo-Platonism comes out in its theory of +the mystical exaltation of the subject to God. It is the extremity of +subjectivism, the forcing of the individual subject to the centre of +the universe, to the position of the Absolute Being. And it follows +naturally upon the heels of Scepticism. In the Sceptics all faith in +the power of thought and reason had finally died out. They <a name="377">{377}</a> took +as their watchword the utter impotence of reason to reach the truth. +From this it was but a step to the position that, if we cannot attain +truth by the natural means of thought, we will do so by a miracle. If +ordinary consciousness will not suffice, we will pass beyond ordinary +consciousness altogether. Neo-Platonism is founded upon despair, the +despair of reason. It is the last frantic struggle of the Greek spirit +to reach, by desperate means, by force, the point which it felt it had +failed to reach by reason. It seeks to take the Absolute by storm. It +feels that where sobriety has failed, the violence of spiritual +intoxication may succeed. +</p> +<p> +It was natural that philosophy should end here. For philosophy is +founded upon reason. It is the effort to comprehend, to understand, to +grasp the reality of things intellectually. Therefore it cannot admit +anything higher than reason. To exalt intuition, ecstasy, or rapture, +above thought--this is death to philosophy. Philosophy in making such +an admission, lets out its own life-blood, which is thought. In +Neo-Platonism, therefore, ancient philosophy commits suicide. This is +the end. The place of philosophy is taken henceforth by religion. +Christianity triumphs, and sweeps away all independent thought from +its path. There is no more philosophy now till a new spirit of enquiry +and wonder is breathed into man at the Renaissance and the +Reformation. Then the new era begins, and gives birth to a new +philosophic impulse, under the influence of which we are still living. +But to reach that new era of philosophy, the human spirit had first to +pass through the arid wastes of Scholasticism. +</p> +<p> +<br> +<a name="378">{378}</a> +<p align=center> +SUBJECT INDEX +</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" width="100%"> +<col width="50%"><col width="50%"> +<tr><td>A</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Abortions,</td><td><a href="#291">291</a>.</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Absolute, The;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as many in one,</div></td> + <td><a href="#70">70-71</a>, + <a href="#197">197</a>;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as reason,</div></td> + <td><a href="#240">240-1</a>, + <a href="#307">307</a>;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as knowable, </div></td> + <td><a href="#299">299</a>;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as form,</div></td> + <td><a href="#307">307.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Actuality, </td> + <td><a href="#279">279.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Air, as first principle, </td> + <td><a href="#28">28.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Antinomy, </td> + <td><a href="#54">54.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Appearance, </td> + <td><a href="#61">61.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Aristocracy, </td> + <td><a href="#324">324.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Asceticism, defect of,</td> + <td><a href="#317">317.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Ataraxia</i>,</td> + <td><a href="#363">363.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Atoms, </td> + <td><a href="#88">88 et seq,</a> + <a href="#356">356.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Aufklärung, </td> + <td><a href="#119">119-120.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>B</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Becoming;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Parmenides on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#44">44;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Heracleitus on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#73">73;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Empedocles on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#82">82;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plato on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#192">192;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#279">279-280</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Being;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Parmenides on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#44">44 et seq;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plato on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#191">191,</a><a href="#197">197.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>C</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Causation, </td> + <td><a href="#6">6-7;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as explanation,</div></td> + <td><a href="#64">64;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle's doctrine of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#267">267-73.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Classification, </td> + <td><a href="#199">199.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Comedy, </td> + <td><a href="#330">330-1.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Concepts;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">defined,</div></td> + <td><a href="#143">143;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">identified with definitions,</div></td> + <td><a href="#145">145;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Socrates's doctrine of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#143">143-6;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">objectivity of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#183">183;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Stoics on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#345">345.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Condensation, </td> + <td><a href="#28">28.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Contract, the social, </td> + <td><a href="#323">323.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Cosmopolitanism, </td> + <td><a href="#353">353.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Counter-earth, </td> + <td><a href="#38">38.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Criterion, The Stoic, </td> + <td><a href="#345">345-6.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>D</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Darwinism, </td> + <td><a href="#293">293.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Death, problem of, </td> + <td><a href="#76">76-7.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Democracy, </td> + <td><a href="#123">123,</a> + <a href="#325">325.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Dialectic, </td> + <td><a href="#55">55,</a> + <a href="#183">183,</a> + <a href="#199">199,</a> + <a href="#204">204.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Dichotomy, </td> + <td><a href="#200">200.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Division, </td> + <td><a href="#199">199.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Dualism;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">defined,</div> + </td><td><a href="#63">63;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of Eleatics,</div></td> + <td><a href="#68">68-70;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of Anaxagoras,</div></td> + <td><a href="#105">105;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of Plato,</div></td> + <td><a href="#105">105;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of Aristotle,</div></td> + <td><a href="#334">334-5.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>E</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Eclipses, </td> + <td><a href="#103">103.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ecstasy, </td> + <td><a href="#376">376-7.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Efficient cause, </td> + <td><a href="#269">269;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">identified with final cause, </div></td> + <td><a href="#273">273-4.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Elements, The Four,</td> + <td><a href="#83">83.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Emanation, </td> + <td><a href="#371">371,</a> + <a href="#374">374-5.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Empty Space, </td> + <td><a href="#47">47,</a> + <a href="#89">89,</a> + <a href="#291">291-2</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Eros, </td> + <td>204.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Evolution;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Anaximander and,</div></td> + <td><a href="#27">27;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle's doctrine of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#307">307-12,</a> + <a href="#307">307-12,</a> + <a href="#333">333,</a> + <a href="#336">336-7;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Spencer's doctrine of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#308">308 et seq.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a name="379">{379}</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Evil, problem of,</td> + <td><a href="#240">240-1.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Explanation, scientific, </td> + <td><a href="#64">64-5.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>External goods, value of, </td> + <td><a href="#159">159,</a> + <a href="#31">31-6,</a> + <a href="#350">350,</a> + <a href="#359">359.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>F</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Faith, age of, </td> + <td><a href="#151">151.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Family, The; Aristotle on, </td> + <td><a href="#324">324.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Final cause,</td> + <td><a href="#269">269;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">identified with formal cause,</div></td> + <td><a href="#273">273.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Fire, as first principle,</td> + <td><a href="#78">78,</a> + <a href="#347">347.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>First Cause, </td> + <td><a href="#66">66.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>First Mover,</td> + <td><a href="#284">284-5.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Form, Aristotle's doctrine of, </td> + <td><a href="#267">267,</a> + <a href="#274">274-8.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Formal cause, </td> + <td><a href="#269">269;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">identified with final cause,</div></td> + <td><a href="#273">273.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Free Will, </td> + <td><a href="#320">320,</a> + <a href="#348">348,</a> + <a href="#355">355.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Friendship, </td> + <td><a href="#225">225,</a> + <a href="#359">359.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>G</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Genius, artistic,</td> + <td><a href="#231">231.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Geocentric hypothesis, </td> + <td><a href="#38">38,</a> + <a href="#211">211,</a> + <a href="#305">305.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Geometry, </td> + <td><a href="#3">3-5,</a> + <a href="#275">275.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>God;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Xenophanes on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#41">41-2;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Socrates on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#132">132;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plato on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#202">202-4;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#283">283-8;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as first mover,</div></td> + <td><a href="#284">284-5;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as thought of thought,</div></td> + <td><a href="#285">285-6;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">relation of, to the world, </div></td> + <td><a href="#282">282;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plotinus on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#373">373.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Gods, The;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Democritus on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#92">92;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Protagoras on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#112">112;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Socrates on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#132">132;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Epicurus on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#357">357.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Good,</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">The Idea of, </div></td> + <td><a href="#198">198,</a> + <a href="#200">200-1,</a> + <a href="#244">244;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as God, </div></td> + <td><a href="#203">203.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Gravitation, </td> + <td><a href="#294">294-5.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>H</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Habit, </td> + <td><a href="#7">7.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Happiness;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Antisthenes on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#159">159;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plato on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#220">220-1;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#314">314-15;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Stoics on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#351">351;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Epicurus on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#358">358,</a> + <a href="#361">361;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">distinguished from pleasure,</div></td> + <td><a href="#221">221.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Heavenly bodies, The;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Anaximander on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#26">26;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Pythagoreans on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#38">38;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Xenophanes on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#43">43;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Anaxagoras on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#103">103;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plato on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#211">211;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#305">305-6.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Heliocentric hypothesis, </td> + <td><a href="#38">38.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hinduism, </td> + <td><a href="#71">71,</a> + <a href="#197">197,</a> + <a href="#308">308,</a> + <a href="#312">312-13.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>I</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Idealism;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of Parmenides,</div></td> + <td><a href="#47">47 et seq;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">essentials of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#48">48,</a> + <a href="#49">49,</a> + <a href="#235">235;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plato as founder of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#235">235.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ideas,</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Theory of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#174">174,</a><a href="#183">183-207;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#262">262-5.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Imagination, </td> + <td><a href="#300">300.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Immortality;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Atomists on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#92">92;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plato on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#175">175,</a> + <a href="#212">212;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#302">302-3;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Epicurus on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#357">357.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Indian Thought, </td> + <td><a href="#14">14-16;</a> + see also Hinduism.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Individualism,</td> + <td><a href="#323">323.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Induction, </td> + <td><a href="#144">144,</a> + <a href="#146">146,</a> + <a href="#190">190,</a> + <a href="#206">206,</a> + <a href="#260">260.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Infinite divisibility;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Zeno on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#56">56;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Anaxagoras on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#96">96;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#292">292-3;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Hume on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#57">57-8;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Kant on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#57">57;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Hegel on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#58">58-60.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Inorganic matter, </td> + <td><a href="#294">294-6.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Insight, moral, </td> + <td><a href="#318">318.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Intuition, </td> + <td><a href="#153">153,</a> + <a href="#375">375,</a> + <a href="#377">377.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Irony, of Socrates, </td> + <td><a href="#130">130.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>J</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Judaism, </td> + <td><a href="#71">71.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Justice;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Pythagoreans on,</div> + </td><td><a href="#37">37;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plato on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#224">224;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#319">319-20.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td><a name="380">{380}</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>K</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Knowledge;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of the Infinite,</div></td> + <td><a href="#7">7-8;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of the Absolute,</div></td> + <td><a href="#299">299;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">through concepts,</div></td> + <td><a href="#146">146,</a> + <a href="#182">182;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plato on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#177">177-82;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as recollection,</div></td> + <td><a href="#212">212-17;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">necessary knowledge,</div></td> + <td><a href="#213">213-15.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>L</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Life; Aristotle's doctrine of, </td> + <td><a href="#296">296.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Limit, The,</td> + <td><a href="#36">36.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Love, Platonic, </td> + <td><a href="#204">204-6.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>M</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Marriage,</td> + <td><a href="#224">224.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Material cause,</td> + <td><a href="#268">268.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Materialism;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">origin of, </div></td> + <td><a href="#9">9-11;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of Ionics, </div></td> + <td><a href="#23">23;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">defect of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#66">66.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Matter;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">indestructibility of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#50">50;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Platonic,</div></td> + <td><a href="#208">208;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle's doctrine of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#275">275-9;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plotinus on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#375">375.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Mechanical theories, </td> + <td><a href="#88">88.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Memory,</td> + <td><a href="#300">300.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Monarchy, </td> + <td><a href="#324">324.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Monism, </td> + <td><a href="#62">62-7.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Monstrosities,</td> + <td><a href="#29">29l.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Morality;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">founded on reason,</div></td> + <td><a href="#118">118.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Motion;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Zeno on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#54">54;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#29">29l.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Multiplicity;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Zeno on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#53">53.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Mysticism,</td> + <td><a href="#12">12, </a> + <a href="#171">171,</a> + <a href="#371">371,</a> + <a href="#372">372,</a> + <a href="#374">374,</a> + <a href="#376">376.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Myths, of Plato, </td> + <td><a href="#170">170-71,</a> + <a href="#208">208, </a> + <a href="#209">209,</a> + <a href="#210">210,</a> + <a href="#211">211.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>N</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Necessary Knowledge,</td> + <td><a href="#213">213-15;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">necessary concepts,</div></td> + <td><a href="#242">242.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Non-sensuous thought, </td> + <td><a href="#8">8-13.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Not-being, </td> + <td><a href="#44">44,</a> + <a href="#75">75,</a> + <a href="#76">76,</a> + <a href="#77">77,</a> + <a href="#89">89,</a> + <a href="#191">191,</a> + <a href="#208">208,</a> + <a href="#279">279,</a> + <a href="#280">280.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Nous;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of Anaxagoras,</div></td> + <td><a href="#97">97-105;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of Plotinus,</div></td> + <td><a href="#375">375.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Numbers, as first principle, </td> + <td><a href="#36">36.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>O</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Object, the right of the, </td> + <td><a href="#122">122.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Objectivity;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">defined,</div></td> + <td><a href="#113">113;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of concepts, </div></td> + <td><a href="#183">183.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Oligarchy, </td> + <td><a href="#324">324.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Opinion,</td><td><a href="#181">181-2.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Organic matter, organism, </td> + <td><a href="#294">294-6.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>P</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Pantheism, </td> + <td><a href="#312">312.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Participation, </td> + <td><a href="#194">194,</a> + <a href="#236">236.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Personality, </td> + <td><a href="#286">286.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Pleasure, </td> + <td><a href="#161">161-2,</a> + <a href="#218">218-19,</a> + <a href="#350">350,</a> + <a href="#358">358;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">distinguished from happiness,</div> + </td><td><a href="#221">221.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Potentiality,</td> + <td><a href="#279">279.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Pragmatism, </td> + <td><a href="#121">121.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Protestantism, </td> + <td><a href="#123">123.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Q</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Quality, mechanical explanation of, </td> + <td><a href="#87">87-8.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>R</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Rarefaction, </td> + <td><a href="#28">28.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Reality;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">distinguished from appearance,</div></td> + <td><a href="#61">61;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">distinguished from existence,</div></td> + <td><a href="#60">60-1,</a> + <a href="#246">246-7.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Reason;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">distinguished from sense,</div></td> + <td><a href="#45">45,</a> + <a href="#79">79,</a> + <a href="#112">112,</a> + <a href="#113">113,</a> + <a href="#115">115,</a> + <a href="#239">239,</a> + <a href="#290">290;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">distinguished from cause,</div></td> + <td><a href="#64">64, </a> + <a href="#76">76;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as universal,</div></td> + <td><a href="#113">113;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as concepts,</div></td> + <td><a href="#144">144;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">supremacy of, </div></td> + <td><a href="#153">153-4;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as basis of love,</div></td> + <td><a href="#205">205-6;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as Absolute,</div></td> + <td><a href="#240">240-1;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">passive and active,</div></td> + <td><a href="#300">300;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as basis of morals,</div></td> + <td><a href="#118">118,</a> + <a href="#317">317,</a> + <a href="#349">349-50.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><a name="381">{381}</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Recollection;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">knowledge as, </div></td> + <td><a href="#212">212-17;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#300">300.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Reincarnation; </td><td>see Transmigration.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Religion;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">relation to philosophy,</div></td> + <td><a href="#14">14-15,</a> + <a href="#207">207;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Xenophanes on,</div> + </td><td><a href="#41">41-2;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Heracleitus on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#79">79;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Democritus on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#92">92;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">decay of Greek,</div></td> + <td><a href="#107">107-8.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rhetoric, </td> + <td><a href="#111">111,</a> + <a href="#122">122.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>S</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Scepticism, </td> + <td><a href="#343">343,</a> + <a href="#361">361.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Sensation;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">particularism of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#113">113;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">distinguished from reason,</div></td> + <td><a href="#45">45,</a> + <a href="#79">79,</a> + <a href="#112">112,</a> + <a href="#113">113,</a> + <a href="#115">115,</a> + <a href="#239">239,</a> + <a href="#290">290.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Slavery, </td> + <td><a href="#225">225,</a> + <a href="#321">321.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Soul;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Heracleitus on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#78">78-9;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Atomists on, </div></td> + <td><a href="#92">92;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plato on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#211">211-17;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#296">296 et seq;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Stoics on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#348">348;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Epicureans on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#357">357.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Space, </td> + <td><a href="#3">3-4,</a> + <a href="#56">56;</a> + see also Empty space.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Sphere, of Empedocles, </td> + <td><a href="#84">84.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>State, The;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Sophists on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#119">119;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Plato's,</div></td> + <td><a href="#201">201-2,</a> + <a href="#225">225-29;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle on,</div></td> + <td><a href="#320">320-5.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Subject, the right of the, </td> + <td><a href="#122">122,</a> + <a href="#152">152.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Subjectivism, Preface,</td> + <td><a href="#340">340-3,</a> + <a href="#361">361,</a> + <a href="#376">376.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Subjectivity, defined, </td> + <td><a href="#113">113.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Substance;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">defined,</div></td> + <td><a href="#186">186-7;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Ideas as,</div></td> + <td><a href="#186">186-8;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">Aristotle's doctrine of</div></td> + <td><a href="#265">265-7.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Suicide, </td> + <td><a href="#160">160,</a> + <a href="#350">350.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Summum Bonum</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#222">222,</a> + <a href="#314">314.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Symbolism, </td> + <td><a href="#12">12.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>T</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Teleology;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">defined,</div></td> + <td><a href="#101">101;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of Anaxagoras,</div></td> + <td><a href="#104">104,</a> + <a href="#105">105;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of Plato,</div></td> + <td><a href="#201">201-2;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of Aristotle, </div></td> + <td><a href="#289">289.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Theosophists, </td> + <td><a href="#153">153-4.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Time,</td> + <td><a href="#282">282,</a> + <a href="#292">292.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Timocracy, </td> + <td><a href="#324">324.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Tragedy,</td> + <td><a href="#330">330-1.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Transmigration, </td> + <td><a href="#17">17,</a> + <a href="#32">32, </a> + <a href="#85">85,</a> + <a href="#212">212,</a> + <a href="#217">217,</a> + <a href="#301">301.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Tyranny,</td> + <td><a href="#324">324.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>U</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Universals, </td> + <td><a href="#188">188.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Utilitarianism, </td> + <td><a href="#220">220-21,</a> + <a href="#315">315.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>V</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Virtue;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as knowledge,</div></td> + <td><a href="#147">147,</a> + <a href="#157">157;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">teachable,</div></td> + <td><a href="#149">149;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">unity of,</div></td> + <td><a href="#149">149,</a> + <a href="#223">223,</a> + <a href="#351">351;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as sole good,</div></td> + <td><a href="#159">159-60,</a> + <a href="#350">350;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">relation to pleasure, </div></td> + <td><a href="#161">161,</a> + <a href="#218">218-19;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">customary and philosophic,</div></td> + <td><a href="#220">220;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">dianoetic,</div></td> + <td><a href="#316">316,</a> + <a href="#317">317;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">as the mean,</div></td> + <td><a href="#317">317.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Void, The, </td> + <td><a href="#90">90.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Vortex, </td> + <td><a href="#90">90,</a> + <a href="#102">102.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>W</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Water, as first principle, </td> + <td><a href="#21">21.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Wise Man, The;</td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of the Cynics, </div></td> + <td><a href="#160">160;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of the Cyrenaics,</div></td> + <td><a href="#162">162;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">of the Stoics,</div></td> + <td><a href="#351">351.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Women, status of, </td> + <td><a href="#224">224.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>World-Soul, The, </td> + <td><a href="#210">210,</a> + <a href="#211">211,</a> + <a href="#375">375.</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<a name="382">{382}</a> + +<p align=center> +INDEX OF NAMES +</p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="8" width="100%"> +<col width="40%"><col width="60%"> +<tr><td>A</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Abdera, </td> + <td><a href="#86">86,</a> + <a href="#112">112.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Academy, The, </td> + <td><a href="#167">167,</a> + <a href="#249">249,</a> + <a href="#250">250;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">The New,</div></td> + <td><a href="#364">364-6.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Aegean, The, </td> + <td><a href="#18">18.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Aenesidemus, </td> + <td><a href="#366">366-7.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>AEsculapius, </td> + <td><a href="#141">141.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Agrigentum,</td> + <td><a href="#81">81.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Alcibiades,</td> + <td><a href="#132">132,</a> + <a href="#133">133.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Alexander the Great, </td> + <td><a href="#251">251,</a> + <a href="#252">252,</a> + <a href="#339">339,</a> + <a href="#340">340,</a> + <a href="#362">362.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Alexandria, </td> + <td><a href="#368">368,</a> + <a href="#370">370.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ammonius Saccas, </td> + <td><a href="#372">372.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Amyntas,</td> + <td><a href="#249">249.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Anaxagoras,</td> + <td><a href="#22">22,</a> + <a href="#30">30,</a> + <a href="#82">82,</a> + <a href="#86">86,</a> + <a href="#91">91,</a> + <a href="#94">94-105,</a> + <a href="#106">106,</a> + <a href="#120">120,</a> + <a href="#137">137,</a> + <a href="#166">166,</a> + <a href="#271">271,</a> + <a href="#272">272,</a> + <a href="#273">273,</a> + <a href="#340">340</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Anaximander, </td> + <td><a href="#20">20,</a> + <a href="#22">22,</a> + <a href="#23">23,</a> + <a href="#24">24-7,</a> + <a href="#28">28,</a> + <a href="#29">29.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Anaximenes,</td> + <td><a href="#20">20,</a> + <a href="#22">22,</a> + <a href="#23">23,</a> + <a href="#27">27-30,</a> + <a href="#82">82,</a> + <a href="#83">83,</a> + <a href="#102">102,</a> + <a href="#271">271.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Andronicus, </td> + <td><a href="#262">262.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Anniceris, </td> + <td><a href="#162">162,</a> + <a href="#167">167.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Antiochis, </td> + <td><a href="#134">134.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Antisthenes, </td> + <td><a href="#156">156,</a> + <a href="#158">158,</a> + <a href="#159">159.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Anytus, </td> + <td><a href="#133">133.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Appolonia, </td> + <td><a href="#30">30.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Apollodorus, </td> + <td><a href="#140">140.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Apology, The,</i></td> + <td><a href="#129">129,</a> + <a href="#133">133,</a> + <a href="#134">134,</a> + <a href="#172">172,</a> + <a href="#173">173.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Arcesilaus, </td> + <td><a href="#364">364,</a> + <a href="#365">365.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Arginusae, </td> + <td><a href="#134">134.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Aristippus, </td> + <td><a href="#156">156,</a> + <a href="#161">161,</a> + <a href="#358">358.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Aristophanes, </td> + <td><a href="#135">135,</a> + <a href="#152">152.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Aristotle, </td> + <td><a href="#14">14,</a> + <a href="#17">17,</a> + <a href="#18">18,</a> + <a href="#19">19,</a> + <a href="#23">23,</a> + <a href="#38">38,</a> + <a href="#42">42 (footnote), </a> + <a href="#55">55, </a> + <a href="#95">95, </a> + <a href="#98">98,</a> + <a href="#99">99,</a> + <a href="#106">106,</a> + <a href="#122">122,</a> + <a href="#148">148,</a> + <a href="#150">150,</a> + <a href="#191">191,</a> + <a href="#193">193,</a> + <a href="#231">231,</a> + <a href="#233">233,</a> + <a href="#248">248,</a> + <a href="#249">249-338,</a> + <a href="#339">339,</a> + <a href="#340">340,</a> + <a href="#341">341,</a> + <a href="#342">342,</a> + <a href="#345">345,</a> + <a href="#346">346,</a> + <a href="#350">350,</a> + <a href="#370">370;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">on Thales,</div></td> + <td><a href="#21">21-2;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">on Anaxagoras,</div></td> + <td><a href="#104">104,</a> + <a href="#105">105;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">on Socrates, </div></td> + <td><a href="#147">147,</a> + <a href="#317">317,</a> + <a href="#320">320;</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><div class="indent">on Plato,</div></td> + <td><a href="#193">193,</a> + <a href="#262">262-5,</a> + <a href="#323">323-4.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Asia Minor, </td> + <td><a href="#18">18,</a> + <a href="#20">20,</a> + <a href="#72">72,</a> + <a href="#94">94,</a> + <a href="#95">95,</a> + <a href="#250">250.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Assyria, </td> + <td><a href="#13">13.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Atarneus, </td> + <td><a href="#250">250.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Athens, </td> + <td><a href="#94">94,</a> + <a href="#95">95,</a> + <a href="#112">112,</a> + <a href="#127">127,</a> + <a href="#128">128,</a> + <a href="#129">129,</a> + <a href="#131">131,</a> + <a href="#133">133,</a> + <a href="#134">134,</a> + <a href="#135">135,</a> + <a href="#136">136,</a> + <a href="#137">137,</a> + <a href="#165">165,</a> + <a href="#166">166,</a> + <a href="#167">167,</a> + <a href="#169">169,</a> + <a href="#249">249,</a> + <a href="#250">250,</a> + <a href="#251">251,</a> + <a href="#252">252,</a> + <a href="#254">254,</a> + <a href="#344">344.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Atomists, The,</td> + <td><a href="#82">82,</a> + <a href="#86">86-93,</a> + <a href="#95">95,</a> + <a href="#96">96</a>, + <a href="#97">97,</a> + <a href="#103">103,</a> + <a href="#104">104.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Aurelius, Marcus, </td> + <td><a href="#14">14,</a> + <a href="#344">344.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>B</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Babylon,</td> + <td><a href="#252">252.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Babylonia, </td> + <td><a href="#86">86.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Bacon, Francis, </td> + <td><a href="#257">257-8.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Banquet, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#132">132.</a> + See also <i>Symposium, The</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Bentham,</td> + <td><a href="#220">220.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Bhagavat Gita, The,</i></td> + <td><a href="#15">15.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Brahman, </td> + <td><a href="#15">15,</a> + <a href="#64">64,</a> + <a href="#170">170,</a> + <a href="#197">197.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Buddha, The,</td> + <td><a href="#213">213.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Burnet Prof., </td> + <td><a href="#v">Preface,</a><a href="#25">25,</a><a href="#28">28,</a><a href="#46">46,</a><a href="#91">91,</a><a href="#98">98.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td><a name="383">{383}</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>C</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Carneades, </td> + <td><a href="#365">365.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Chairephon, </td> + <td><a href="#129">129.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Chalcis, </td> + <td><a href="#252">252.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Charmides, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#172">172,</a> + <a href="#173">173.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>China,</td> + <td><a href="#13">13.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Christianity, </td> + <td><a href="#69">69,</a> + <a href="#70">70,</a> + <a href="#71">71,</a> + <a href="#101">101,</a> + <a href="#369">369,</a> + <a href="#377">377.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Chrysippus, </td> + <td><a href="#344">344.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Cicero, </td> + <td><a href="#366">366.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Clazomenae, </td> + <td><a href="#94">94.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Cleanthes, </td> + <td><a href="#344">344.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Clouds, The</i>, of Aristophanes, </td> + <td><a href="#135">135.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Coleridge, S. T.,</td> + <td><a href="#263">263.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Colophon, </td> + <td><a href="#41">41.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Copernicus, </td> + <td><a href="#38">38.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Crates, </td> + <td><a href="#344">344.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Cratylus, </td> + <td><a href="#166">166.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Critias, </td> + <td><a href="#118">118.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Crito, </td> + <td><a href="#137">137,</a> + <a href="#138">138,</a> + <a href="#139">139,</a> + <a href="#140">140,</a> + <a href="#141">141.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Crito, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#172">172,</a> + <a href="#173">173.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Croesus, </td> + <td><a href="#20">20,</a> + <a href="#21">21.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Crotona, </td> + <td><a href="#31">31,</a> + <a href="#33">33.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Cynics, The, </td> + <td><a href="#156">156,</a> + <a href="#158">158-60,</a> + <a href="#163">163,</a> + <a href="#316">316,</a> + <a href="#342">342,</a> + <a href="#351">351,</a> + <a href="#353">353,</a> + <a href="#358">358.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Cyprus, </td> + <td><a href="#344">344.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Cyrenaics, The, </td> + <td><a href="#156">156,</a> + <a href="#160">160-2,</a> + <a href="#163">163,</a> + <a href="#218">218,</a> + <a href="#342">342,</a> + <a href="#358">358.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Cyrene, </td> + <td><a href="#167">167.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>D</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Darwin, </td> + <td><a href="#308">308.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Delium, </td> + <td><a href="#131">131.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Delphi, </td> + <td><a href="#129">129.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Democritus, </td> + <td><a href="#22">22,</a> + <a href="#49">49,</a> + <a href="#50">50,</a> + <a href="#52">52,</a> + <a href="#86">86,</a> + <a href="#93">93,</a> + <a href="#104">104,</a> + <a href="#108">108,</a> + <a href="#112">112,</a> + <a href="#234">234,</a> + <a href="#342">342,</a> + <a href="#354">354,</a> + <a href="#356">356.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Diogenes of Apollonia, </td> + <td><a href="#30">30</a>.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Diogenes the Cynic, </td> + <td><a href="#159">159,</a> + <a href="#351">351,</a> + <a href="#352">352.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Dionysius the Elder, </td> + <td><a href="#167">167,</a> + <a href="#168">168.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Dionysius the Younger, </td> + <td><a href="#168">168,</a> + <a href="#169">169.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>E</td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td>Echechrates, </td> + <td><a href="#139">139,</a> + <a href="#141">141.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Egypt,</td> + <td><a href="#13">13,</a> + <a href="#16">16,</a> + <a href="#17">17,</a> + <a href="#31">31,</a> + <a href="#86">86,</a> + <a href="#125">125,</a> + <a href="#167">167,</a> + <a href="#372">372.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Elea, </td> + <td><a href="#40">40,</a> + <a href="#41">41,</a> + <a href="#43">43,</a> + <a href="#52">52,</a> + <a href="#60">60.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Eleatics, The, </td> + <td><a href="#22">22,</a> + <a href="#23">23,</a> + <a href="#40">40-71,</a> + <a href="#72">72,</a> + <a href="#73">73,</a> + <a href="#75">75,</a> + <a href="#79">79,</a> + <a href="#89">89,</a> + <a href="#109">109,</a> + <a href="#112">112,</a> + <a href="#117">117,</a> + <a href="#162">162,</a> + <a href="#164">164,</a> + <a href="#166">166,</a> + <a href="#173">173,</a> + <a href="#174">174,</a> + <a href="#175">175,</a> + <a href="#193">193,</a> + <a href="#195">195,</a> + <a href="#196">196,</a> + <a href="#197">197,</a> + <a href="#234">234,</a> + <a href="#235">235,</a> + <a href="#246">246,</a> + <a href="#272">272,</a> + <a href="#279">279,</a> + <a href="#374">374.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Eleusinian mysteries, </td> + <td><a href="#72">72.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Empedocles, </td> + <td><a href="#17">17,</a> + <a href="#22">22,</a> + <a href="#49">49,</a> + <a href="#52">52,</a> + <a href="#8">81-5,</a> + <a href="#86">86,</a> + <a href="#87">87-8,</a> + <a href="#89">89,</a> + <a href="#95">95,</a> + <a href="#96">96,</a> + <a href="#97">97,</a> + <a href="#103">103,</a> + <a href="#271">271,</a> + <a href="#272">272,</a> + <a href="#329">329.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Empiricus, Sextus, </td> + <td><a href="#366">366.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>England, </td> + <td><a href="#121">121.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ephesus,</td> + <td><a href="#72">72,</a> + <a href="#73">73.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Epictetus, </td> + <td><a href="#14">14,</a> + <a href="#344">344.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Epicureans, The, </td> + <td><a href="#89">89,</a> + <a href="#90">90,</a> + <a href="#91">91,</a> + <a href="#342">342,</a> + <a href="#343">343,</a> + <a href="#354">354-60,</a> + <a href="#362">362,</a> + <a href="#368">368,</a> + <a href="#369">369.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Epicurus, </td> + <td><a href="#342">342,</a> + <a href="#345">345-60.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Erdmann, </td> + <td><a href="#46">46,</a> + <a href="#98">98,</a> + <a href="#368">368,</a> + <a href="#375">375.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Ethics, The</i>, of Aristotle, </td> + <td><a href="#319">319.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Euboea, </td> + <td><a href="#252">252.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Euclid, the geometrician, </td> + <td><a href="#33">33,</a> + <a href="#113">113.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Euclid of Megara, </td> + <td><a href="#156">156,</a> + <a href="#162">162-3,</a> + <a href="#166">166,</a> + <a href="#167">167.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Euripides, </td> + <td><a href="#94">94.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Euthyphro, The, </i></td> + <td><a href="#172">172.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>F</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>France, </td> + <td><a href="#121">121.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>G</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Gorgias, </td> + <td><a href="#110">110,</a> + <a href="#111">111,</a> + <a href="#116">116-18,</a> + <a href="#361">361.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Gorgias, The, </i></td> + <td><a href="#174">174,</a> + <a href="#177">177.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Grant, Sir A.,</td> + <td><a href="#295">295 (footnote).</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Greece,</td> + <td><a href="#13">13,</a> + <a href="#16">16,</a> + <a href="#17">17,</a> + <a href="#18">18,</a> + <a href="#33">33,</a> + <a href="#41">41,</a> + <a href="#107">107,</a> + <a href="#109">109,</a> + <a href="#112">112,</a> + <a href="#122">122,</a> + <a href="#168">168,</a> + <a href="#220">220,</a> + <a href="#252">252,</a> + <a href="#339">339,</a> + <a href="#344">344,</a> + <a href="#368">368.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Grote,</td> + <td><a href="#98">98.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br> +</td></tr> +<tr><td><a name="384">{384}</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>H</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Halys, </td> + <td><a href="#21">21.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hegel, </td> + <td><a href="#38">38,</a> + <a href="#46">46,</a> + <a href="#55">55,</a> + <a href="#58">58-60,</a> + <a href="#312">312 (footnote),</a> + <a href="#333">333.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hegesias, </td> + <td><a href="#162">162.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hellas,</td> + <td><a href="#41">41.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Heracleitus, </td> + <td><a href="#22">22,</a> + <a href="#72">72-80,</a> + <a href="#82">82,</a> + <a href="#86">86,</a> + <a href="#108">108,</a> + <a href="#112">112, </a> + <a href="#116">116,</a> + <a href="#164">164,</a> + <a href="#166">166,</a> + <a href="#192">192,</a> + <a href="#193">193,</a> + <a href="#234">234,</a> + <a href="#271">271,</a> + <a href="#333">333,</a> + <a href="#342">342,</a> + <a href="#347">347.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hermeias,</td> + <td><a href="#250">250.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Herpyllis, </td> + <td><a href="#251">251.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hesiod, </td> + <td><a href="#41">41,</a> + <a href="#72">72,</a> + <a href="#77">77.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hippias, </td> + <td><a href="#110">110.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Hippias Minor, The</i>,</td> + <td><a href="#172">172.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hippo, </td> + <td><a href="#30">30.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Homer,</td> + <td><a href="#41">41,</a> + <a href="#72">72.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hume, David, </td> + <td><a href="#57">57,</a> + <a href="#58">58,</a> + <a href="#361">361.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Hylicists, The, </td> + <td><a href="#24">24.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>I</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Iamblicus, </td> + <td><a href="#376">376.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Idaeus, </td> + <td><a href="#30">30.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>India, </td> + <td><a href="#14">14,</a> + <a href="#16">16,</a> + <a href="#17">17.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ionia, </td> + <td><a href="#20">20,</a> + <a href="#41">41,</a> + <a href="#137">137.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Ionics, The, </td> + <td><a href="#20">20-30,</a> + <a href="#61">61,</a> + <a href="#62">62,</a> + <a href="#82">82,</a> + <a href="#83">83,</a> + <a href="#271">271,</a> + <a href="#272">272.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Islam, </td> + <td><a href="#71">71.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Italy, </td> + <td><a href="#18">18,</a> + <a href="#31">31,</a> + <a href="#40">40,</a> + <a href="#167">167.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>J</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Japan, </td> + <td><a href="#125">125.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Jàtakas, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#213">213.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Judaea, </td> + <td><a href="#370">370.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>K</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Kant,</td> + <td><a href="#55">55,</a> + <a href="#57">57,</a> + <a href="#213">213,</a> + <a href="#215">215.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Kepler, </td> + <td><a href="#65">65.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Krishna, </td> + <td><a href="#15">15.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>L</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Laches, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#172">172,</a> + <a href="#173">173</a>.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Lampsacus, </td> + <td><a href="#95">95.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Leon, </td> + <td><a href="#134">134-5.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Leucippus, </td> + <td><a href="#86">86,</a> + <a href="#88">88,</a> + <a href="#89">89, </a> + <a href="#91">91,</a> + <a href="#104">104.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>London, </td> + <td><a href="#189">189.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Lucretius, </td> + <td><a href="#14">14.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Lyceum, The, </td> + <td><a href="#251">251.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Lycon, </td> + <td><a href="#133">133.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Lycopolis, </td> + <td><a href="#372">372.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Lysis, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#172">172,</a> + <a href="#173">173.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>M</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Macedonia, </td> + <td><a href="#249">249,</a> + <a href="#252">252,</a> + <a href="#339">339.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Macran, H. S.,</td> + <td><a href="#312">312 (footnote).</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Megara, </td> + <td><a href="#166">166,</a> + <a href="#167">167,</a> + <a href="#172">172,</a> + <a href="#173">173.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Megarics, The, </td> + <td><a href="#156">156,</a> + <a href="#162">162-3.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Melissus, </td> + <td><a href="#46">46.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Melitus, </td> + <td><a href="#133">133.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Memorabilia, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#142">142.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Meno, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#216">216.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Meru, </td> + <td><a href="#15">15,</a> + <a href="#16">16.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Metaphysics, The</i>, of Aristotle, </td> + <td><a href="#19">19,</a> + <a href="#42">42,</a> + <a href="#105">105,</a> + <a href="#253">253,</a> + <a href="#254">254,</a> + <a href="#261">261,</a> + <a href="#271">271.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Metchnikoff, </td> + <td><a href="#76">76.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Miletus, </td> + <td><a href="#20">20,</a> + <a href="#24">24,</a> + <a href="#27">27.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Mill, J. S.,</td> + <td><a href="#220">220,</a> + <a href="#221">221,</a> + <a href="#269">269.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Milton, </td> + <td><a href="#330">330.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Moses, </td> + <td><a href="#370">370.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Mytilene, </td> + <td><a href="#251">251.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>N</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Napoleon, </td> + <td><a href="#252">252.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Neo-Platonists, The, </td> + <td><a href="#342">342,</a> + <a href="#343">343,</a> + <a href="#368">368,</a> + <a href="#369">369,</a> + <a href="#372">372-377.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Newton,</td> + <td><a href="#65">65.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Nichomachus, </td> + <td><a href="#249">249,</a> + <a href="#251">251</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Nietzsche, </td> + <td><a href="#156">156.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>O</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Orphics, The, </td> + <td><a href="#17">17,</a> + <a href="#32">32.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>P</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Paramatman,</td> + <td><a href="#15">15.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Parmenides, </td> + <td><a href="#13">13,</a> + <a href="#40">40,</a> + <a href="#41">41,</a> + <a href="#42">42,</a> + <a href="#43">43, </a> + <a href="#52">52,</a> + <a href="#53">53,</a> + <a href="#57">57,</a> + <a href="#72">72,</a> + <a href="#81">81,</a> + <a href="#82">82,</a> + <a href="#86">86,</a> + <a href="#117">117,</a> + <a href="#162">162,</a> + <a href="#163">163,</a> + <a href="#164">164,</a> + <a href="#167">167,</a> + <a href="#234">234.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Parmenides, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#169">169,</a> + <a href="#175">175,</a> + <a href="#176">176,</a> + <a href="#177">177,</a> + <a href="#195">195,</a> + <a href="#244">244.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Peloponnese, The, </td> + <td><a href="#103">103.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td><a name="385">{385}</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Peloponnesian War, The, </td> + <td><a href="#131">131,</a> + <a href="#165">165.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Pericles, </td> + <td><a href="#94">94,</a> + <a href="#95">95,</a> + <a href="#137">137.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Peripatetics, The, </td> + <td><a href="#251">251,</a> + <a href="#369">369.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Persians, The, </td> + <td><a href="#251">251.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Phaedo, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#137">137,</a> + <a href="#175">175,</a> + <a href="#177">177.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Phaedrus, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#172">172,</a> + <a href="#175">175,</a> + <a href="#177">177.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Philebus, The</i>,</td> + <td><a href="#175">175,</a> + <a href="#203">203.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Philip of Macedonia,</td> + <td><a href="#251">251.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Philo the Jew,</td> + <td><a href="#370">370-1.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Philolaus, </td> + <td><a href="#37">37.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Phlius,</td> + <td><a href="#262">262.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Plato, </td> + <td><a href="#1">1, </a> + <a href="#13">13,</a> + <a href="#17">17,</a> + <a href="#19">19,</a> + <a href="#23">23,</a> + <a href="#38">38,</a> + <a href="#50">50,</a> + <a href="#51">51,</a> + <a href="#52">52,</a> + <a href="#55">55,</a> + <a href="#95">95,</a> + <a href="#99">99,</a> + <a href="#101">101,</a> + <a href="#104">104,</a> + <a href="#106">106,</a> + <a href="#122">122,</a> + <a href="#129">129,</a> + <a href="#132">132,</a> + <a href="#133">133,</a> + <a href="#137">137,</a> + <a href="#141">141,</a> + <a href="#142">142,</a> + <a href="#150">150,</a> + <a href="#156">156,</a> + <a href="#164">164-248,</a> + <a href="#249">249,</a> + <a href="#250">250,</a> + <a href="#253">253,</a> + <a href="#255">255,</a> + <a href="#256">256,</a> + <a href="#257">257,</a> + <a href="#258">258,</a> + <a href="#259">259,</a> + <a href="#262">262-5,</a> + <a href="#267">267,</a> + <a href="#269">269,</a> + <a href="#271">271,</a> + <a href="#272">272,</a> + <a href="#273">273,</a> + <a href="#275">275,</a> + <a href="#281">281,</a> + <a href="#282">282,</a> + <a href="#286">286,</a> + <a href="#287">287,</a> + <a href="#288">288,</a> + <a href="#290">290,</a> + <a href="#291">291,</a> + <a href="#298">298,</a> + <a href="#299">299,</a> + <a href="#301">301,</a> + <a href="#303">303,</a> + <a href="#304">304,</a> + <a href="#314">314,</a> + <a href="#319">319,</a> + <a href="#321">321,</a> + <a href="#323">323,</a> + <a href="#324">324,</a> + <a href="#325">325,</a> + <a href="#327">327,</a> + <a href="#329">329,</a> + <a href="#331">331,</a> + <a href="#332">332,</a> + <a href="#334">334,</a> + <a href="#335">335,</a> + <a href="#336">336,</a> + <a href="#338">338,</a> + <a href="#341">341,</a> + <a href="#342">342,</a> + <a href="#345">345,</a> + <a href="#346">346,</a> + <a href="#350">350,</a> + <a href="#364">364,</a> + <a href="#370">370,</a> + <a href="#372">372,</a> + <a href="#374">374,</a> + <a href="#375">375.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Plotinus, </td> + <td><a href="#368">368,</a> + <a href="#372">372-6.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Porphyry, </td> + <td><a href="#376">376.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Proclus, </td> + <td><a href="#376">376.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Poetics, The</i>, of Aristotle, </td> + <td><a href="#326">326.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Polus, </td> + <td><a href="#118">118-9.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Polemo, </td> + <td><a href="#344">344.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Prodicus,</td> + <td><a href="#110">110,</a> + <a href="#121">121.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Protagoras, </td> + <td><a href="#110">110,</a> + <a href="#112">112-6,</a> + <a href="#118">118,</a> + <a href="#121">121,</a> + <a href="#153">153,</a> + <a href="#154">154,</a> + <a href="#161">161,</a> + <a href="#178">178,</a> + <a href="#179">179,</a> + <a href="#181">181,</a> + <a href="#217">217,</a> + <a href="#361">361.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Protagoras, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#172">172.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Proxenus, </td> + <td><a href="#249">249.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Pyrrho, </td> + <td><a href="#343">343,</a> + <a href="#362">362-4,</a> + <a href="#365">365,</a> + <a href="#366">366.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Pythagoras, </td> + <td><a href="#31">31,</a> + <a href="#32">32,</a> + <a href="#33">33,</a> + <a href="#34">34,</a> + <a href="#72">72,</a> + <a href="#81">81,</a> + <a href="#301">301.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Pythagoreans, The, </td> + <td><a href="#17">17,</a> + <a href="#22">22,</a> + <a href="#31">31-9,</a> + <a href="#43">43,</a> + <a href="#44">44,</a> + <a href="#61">61,</a> + <a href="#62">62,</a> + <a href="#109">109,</a> + <a href="#164">164,</a> + <a href="#167">167,</a> + <a href="#169">169,</a> + <a href="#191">191,</a> + <a href="#209">209,</a> + <a href="#217">217,</a> + <a href="#272">272,</a> + <a href="#291">291,</a> + <a href="#370">370.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Pythias, </td> + <td><a href="#251">251.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>R</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Republic, The,</i></td> + <td><a href="#v">Preface,</a> + <a href="#168">168,</a> + <a href="#175">175,</a> + <a href="#177">177,</a> + <a href="#201">201-2,</a> + <a href="#225">225-9,</a> + <a href="#230">230,</a> + <a href="#231">231.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rome, </td> + <td><a href="#14">14,</a> + <a href="#344">344,</a> + <a href="#372">372.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Rotunda, The,</td> + <td><a href="#134">134,</a> + <a href="#135">135.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>S</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Salamis, </td> + <td><a href="#134">134,</a> + <a href="#135">135.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Satan, Milton's, </td> + <td><a href="#330">330.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Sceptics, The, </td> + <td><a href="#7">7 (footnote),</a> + <a href="#342">342,</a> + <a href="#361">361-7,</a> + <a href="#368">368,</a> + <a href="#376">376.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Schopenhauer,</td> + <td><a href="#72">72.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Schwegler, </td> + <td><a href="#46">46,</a> + <a href="#353">353.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Seneca, </td> + <td><a href="#14">14,</a> + <a href="#344">344.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Seven Sages, The, </td> + <td><a href="#21">21.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Shaw, Bernard, </td> + <td><a href="#126">126,</a> + <a href="#156">156.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Sicily, </td> + <td><a href="#18">18,</a> + <a href="#81">81,</a> + <a href="#112">112,</a> + <a href="#176">176,</a> + <a href="#168">168.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Simplicius,</td> + <td><a href="#366">366.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Socrates, </td> + <td><a href="#18">18,</a> + <a href="#19">19,</a> + <a href="#51">51,</a> + <a href="#73">73,</a> + <a href="#95">95,</a> + <a href="#110">110,</a> + <a href="#122">122,</a> + <a href="#127">127-54,</a> + <a href="#155">155,</a> + <a href="#156">156,</a> + <a href="#157">157,</a> + <a href="#158">158,</a> + <a href="#159">159,</a> + <a href="#160">160,</a> + <a href="#161">161,</a> + <a href="#163">163,</a> + <a href="#164">164,</a> + <a href="#166">166,</a> + <a href="#167">167,</a> + <a href="#168">168,</a> + <a href="#169">169,</a> + <a href="#172">172,</a> + <a href="#173">173,</a> + <a href="#182">182,</a> + <a href="#183">183,</a> + <a href="#193">193,</a> + <a href="#223">223,</a> + <a href="#234">234,</a> + <a href="#252">252,</a> + <a href="#317">317,</a> + <a href="#320">320,</a> + <a href="#352">352.</a> + <a href="#352">352.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Solon, </td> + <td><a href="#20">20.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Sophist, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#175">175,</a> + <a href="#176">176,</a> + <a href="#177">177,</a> + <a href="#195">195.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Sophists, The, </td> + <td><a href="#18">18,</a> + <a href="#19">19,</a> + <a href="#24">24,</a> + <a href="#106">106-26,</a> + <a href="#127">127,</a> + <a href="#128">128,</a> + <a href="#135">135,</a> + <a href="#142">142,</a> + <a href="#144">144,</a> + <a href="#145">145,</a> + <a href="#150">150,</a> + <a href="#151">151,</a> + <a href="#152">152,</a> + <a href="#153">153,</a> + <a href="#161">161,</a> + <a href="#166">166,</a> + <a href="#174">174,</a> + <a href="#178">178,</a> + <a href="#182">182,</a> + <a href="#185">185,</a> + <a href="#218">218,</a> + <a href="#219">219,</a> + <a href="#221">221,</a> + <a href="#234">234,</a> + <a href="#343">343,</a> + <a href="#361">361</a>.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Sparta, </td> + <td><a href="#339">339.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Spencer, Herbert, </td> + <td><a href="#2">2,</a> + <a href="#308">308-12.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Speusippus, </td> + <td><a href="#250">250.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Spinoza, </td> + <td><a href="#66">66,</a> + <a href="#71">71,</a> + <a href="#197">197.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Stagirus, </td> + <td><a href="#249">249.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Statesman, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#175">175,</a> + <a href="#176">176.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Stilpo, </td> + <td><a href="#344">344.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Stoa, The, </td> + <td><a href="#344">344.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Stoics, The, </td> + <td><a href="#341">341,</a> + <a href="#342">342,</a> + <a href="#343">343,</a> + <a href="#344">344-53,</a> + <a href="#358">358,</a> + <a href="#359">359,</a> + <a href="#362">362,</a> + <a href="#365">365,</a> + <a href="#366">366,</a> + <a href="#368">368,</a> + <a href="#369">369,</a> + <a href="#370">370.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Swinburne, A. C., </td> + <td><a href="#357">357.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td><a name="386">{386}</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Symposium, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#175">175,</a> + <a href="#205">205-6,</a> + <a href="#231">231.</a> + See also <i>Banquet, The</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Syracuse, </td> + <td><a href="#42">42,</a> + <a href="#167">167,</a> + <a href="#168">168,</a> + <a href="#169">169.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Syrianus, </td> + <td><a href="#376">376.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>T</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Thales </td> + <td><a href="#20">20-4,</a> + <a href="#27">27,</a> + <a href="#28">28,</a> + <a href="#29">29,</a> + <a href="#30">30,</a> + <a href="#36">36,</a> + <a href="#44">44,</a> + <a href="#82">82,</a> + <a href="#120">120,</a> + <a href="#271">271,</a> + <a href="#368">368.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Thebes,</td> + <td><a href="#252">252.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Thessaly, </td> + <td><a href="#137">137.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Thirty Tyrants, The, </td> + <td><a href="#134">134,</a> + <a href="#165">165.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Thrace, </td> + <td><a href="#86">86,</a> + <a href="#249">249.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Thrasymachus, </td> + <td><a href="#118">118-9.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Timaeus, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#38">38,</a> + <a href="#171">171,</a> + <a href="#175">175,</a> + <a href="#177">177,</a> + <a href="#190">190,</a> + <a href="#208">208,</a> + <a href="#210">210.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Timon of Phlius, </td> + <td><a href="#362">362.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Tolstoi, </td> + <td><a href="#230">230.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>U</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td><i>Upanishads, The</i>, </td> + <td><a href="#14">14,</a> + <a href="#15">15,</a> + <a href="#170">170,</a> + <a href="#371">371.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>W</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Wallace, </td> + <td><a href="#38">38 (footnote).</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Wells, H. G., </td> + <td><a href="#v">Preface,</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Wilde, Oscar, </td> + <td><a href="#126">126,</a> + <a href="#156">156</a>.</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>X</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Xenocrates, </td> + <td><a href="#250">250,</a> + <a href="#251">251.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Xenophanes, </td> + <td><a href="#40">40-3,</a> + <a href="#72">72,</a> + <a href="#79">79,</a> + <a href="#108">108,</a> + <a href="#340">340.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Xenophon, </td> + <td><a href="#132">132,</a> + <a href="#141">141,</a> + <a href="#142">142.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Z</td></tr> +<tr><td><br></td></tr> +<tr><td>Zeller, </td> + <td><a href="#98">98,</a> + <a href="#101">101,</a> + <a href="#176">176,</a> + <a href="#202">202,</a> + <a href="#209">209,</a> + <a href="#224">224</a>.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Zeno the Eleatic, </td> + <td><a href="#40">40,</a> + <a href="#52">52-60,</a> + <a href="#72">72,</a> + <a href="#117">117,</a> + <a href="#163">163,</a> + <a href="#246">246,</a> + <a href="#292">292.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Zeno the Stoic,</td> + <td><a href="#344">344,</a> + <a href="#354">354.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Zeus,</td> + <td><a href="#360">360.</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p> +GLASGOW: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS<br> +BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. 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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 + + +Title: A Critical History of Greek Philosophy + +Author: W. T. Stace + +Release Date: August 12, 2010 [EBook #33411] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY *** + + + + +Produced by Don Kostuch + + + + +[Transcriber's Notes] + This text is derived from a copy in the Ave Maria University + library, catalog number "B 171 .S8" + + +[End Transcriber's Notes] + +A CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED +LONDON - BOMBAY - CALCUTTA - MADRAS +MELBOURNE + + +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY +NEW YORK - BOSTON - CHICAGO +DALLAS - SAN FRANCISCO + +THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd +TORONTO + + + +A CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY + +BY + +W. T. STACE + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED +ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON +1920 + + +COPYRIGHT + + +GLASGOW: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS +BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD. + + +{v} + +PREFACE + +This book contains the substance, and for the most part the words, of +a course of public lectures delivered during the first three months of +1919. The original division into lectures has been dropped, the matter +being more conveniently redivided into chapters. + +The audience to whom the lectures were delivered was composed of +members of the general public, and not only of students. For the most +part they possessed no previous knowledge of philosophy. Hence this +book, like the original lectures, assumes no previous special +knowledge, though it assumes, of course, a state of general education +in the reader. Technical philosophical terms are carefully explained +when first introduced; and a special effort has been made to put +philosophical ideas in the clearest way possible. But it must be +remembered that many of the profoundest as well as the most difficult +of human conceptions are to be found in Greek philosophy. Such ideas +are difficult in themselves, however clearly expressed. No amount of +explanation can ever render them anything but difficult to the +unsophisticated mind, and anything in the nature of "philosophy made +easy" is only to be expected from quacks and charlatans. + +Greek philosophy is not, even now, antiquated. It is not from the +point of view of an antiquary or historian {vi} that its treasures are +valuable. We are dealing here with living things, and not with mere +dead things--not with the dry bones and debris of a bygone age. And I +have tried to lecture and write for living people, and not for mere +fossil-grubbers. If I did not believe that there is to be found here, +in Greek philosophy, at least a measure of the truth, the truth that +does not grow old, I would not waste five minutes of my life upon it. + +"We do not," says a popular modern writer, [Footnote 1] "bring the +young mind up against the few broad elemental questions that are the +_questions of metaphysics_ .... We do not make it discuss, correct it, +elucidate it. That was the way of the Greeks, and we worship that +divine people far too much to adopt their way. No, we lecture to our +young people about not philosophy but philosophers, we put them +through book after book, telling how other people have discussed these +questions. We avoid the questions of metaphysics, but we deliver +semi-digested half views of the discussions of, and answers to these +questions made by men of all sorts and qualities, in various remote +languages and under conditions quite different from our own. . . . It +is as if we began teaching arithmetic by long lectures upon the origin +of the Roman numerals, and then went on to the lives and motives of +the Arab mathematicians in Spain, or started with Roger Bacon in +chemistry, or Sir Richard Owen in comparative anatomy .... It is time +the educational powers began to realise that the questions of +metaphysics, the elements of philosophy, are, here and now to be done +afresh in each mind .... What is wanted is philosophy, and not a +shallow smattering of the history of philosophy ... {vii} The proper +way to discuss metaphysics, like the proper way to discuss mathematics +or chemistry, is to discuss the accumulated and digested product of +human thought in such matters." + +[Footnote 1: H. G. Wells in "First and Last Things."] + +Plausible words these, certain to seem conclusive to the mob, +notwithstanding that for one element of truth they contain nine of +untruth! The elements of truth are that our educational system +unwarrantably leaves unused the powerful weapon of oral discussion--so +forcibly wielded by the Greeks--and develops book knowledge at the +expense of original thought. Though even here it must be remembered, +as regards the Greeks, (1) that if they studied the history of +philosophy but little, it was because there was then but little +history of philosophy to study, and (2) that if anyone imagines that +the great Greek thinkers did not fully master the thought of their +predecessors before constructing their own systems, he is grievously +mistaken, and (3) that in some cases the over-reliance on oral +discussion--the opposite fault to ours--led to intellectual +dishonesty, quibbling, ostentation, disregard of truth, shallowness, +and absence of all principle; this was the case with the Sophists. + +As to the comparisons between arithmetic and philosophy, chemistry and +philosophy, etc., they rest wholly upon a false parallel, and involve +a total failure to comprehend the nature of philosophic truth, and its +fundamental difference from arithmetical, chemical, or physical truth. +If Eratosthenes thought the circumference of the earth to be so much, +whereas it has now been discovered to be so much, then the later +correct view simply cancels and renders nugatory the older view. +{viii} The one is correct, the other incorrect. We can ignore and +forget the incorrect view altogether. But the development of +philosophy proceeds on quite other principles. Philosophical truth is +no sum in arithmetic to be totted up so that the answer is thus +formally and finally correct or incorrect. Rather, the philosophical +truth unfolds itself, factor by factor, in time, in the successive +systems of philosophy, and it is only in the complete series that the +complete truth is to be found. The system of Aristotle does not simply +cancel and refute that of Plato. Spinoza does not simply abolish +Descartes. Aristotle completes Plato, as his necessary complement. +Spinoza does the same for Descartes. And so it is always. The +calculation of Eratosthenes is simply wrong, and so we can afford to +forget it. But the systems of Plato, Aristotle, Spinoza, Leibniz, +etc., are all alike factors of the truth. They are as true now as they +were in their own times, though they are not, and never were, the +whole truth. And therefore it is that they are not simply wrong, done +with, finished, ended, and that we cannot afford to forget them. +Whether it is not possible to bring the many lights to a single focus, +to weld the various factors of the truth into a single organic whole +or system, which should thus be the total result to date, is another +question. Only one such attempt has ever been made, but no one will +pretend that it is possible to understand it without a thorough +knowledge of all previous systems, a knowledge, in fact, of the +separate factors of the truth before they are thus combined into a +total result. Besides, that attempt, too, is now part of the history +of philosophy! + +Hence any philosophical thinking which is not founded {ix} upon a +thorough study of the systems of the past will necessarily be shallow +and worthless. And the notions that we can dispense with this study, +and do everything out of our own heads, that everyone is to be his own +philosopher, and is competent to construct his own system in his own +way--such ideas are utterly empty and hollow. Of these truths, indeed, +we see a notable example in what the writer just quoted styles his +"metaphysic." This so-called metaphysic is wholly based upon the +assumption that knowledge and its object exist, each on its own +account, external to one another, the one here, the other there over +against it, and that knowledge is an "instrument" which in this +external manner takes hold of its object and makes it its own. The +very moment the word "instrument" is used here, all the rest, +including the invalidity of knowledge, follows as a matter of course. +Such assumption then--that knowledge is an "instrument"--our writer +makes, wholly uncritically, and without a shadow of right. He gives no +sign that it has ever even occurred to him that this is an assumption, +that it needs any enquiry, or that it is possible for anyone to think +otherwise. Yet anyone who will take the trouble, not merely +superficially to dip into the history of philosophy, but thoroughly to +submit himself to its discipline, will at least learn that this is an +assumption, a very doubtful assumption, too, which no one now has the +right to foist upon the public without discussion as if it were an +axiomatic truth. He might even learn that it is a false assumption. +And he will note, as an ominous sign, that the subjectivism which +permeates and directs the whole course of Mr. Wells's thinking is +identical in character with that {x} subjectivism which was the +essential feature of the decay and _downfall_ of the Greek philosophic +spirit, and was the cause of its final _ruin_ and _dissolution_. + +I would counsel the young, therefore, to pay no attention to plausible +and shallow words such as those quoted, but, before forming their own +philosophic opinions, most thoroughly and earnestly to study and +master the history of past philosophies, first the Greek and then the +modern. That this cannot be done merely by reading a modern resume of +that history, but only by studying the great thinkers in their own +works, is true. But philosophical education must begin, and the +function of such books as this, is, not to complete it, but to begin +it; and to obtain first of all a general view of what must afterwards +be studied in detail is no bad way of beginning. Moreover, the study +of the development and historical connexions of the various +philosophies, which is not found in the original writings themselves, +will always provide a work for histories of philosophy to do. + +Two omissions in this book require, perhaps, a word of explanation. + +Firstly, in dealing with Plato's politics I have relied on the +"Republic," and said nothing of the "Laws." This would not be +permissible in a history of political theories, nor even in a history +of philosophy which laid any special emphasis on politics. But, from +my point of view, politics lie on the extreme outer margin of +philosophy, so that a more slender treatment of the subject is +permissible. Moreover, the "Republic," whether written early or late, +expresses, in my opinion, the views of Plato, and not those of +Socrates, and it still remains the outstanding, typical, and +characteristic {xi} expression of the Platonic political ideal, +however much that ideal had afterwards to be modified by practical +considerations. + +Secondly, I have not even mentioned the view, now held by some, that +the theory of Ideas is really the work of Socrates, and not of Plato, +and that Plato's own philosophy consisted in some sort of esoteric +number-theory, combined with theistic and other doctrines. I can only +say that this theory, as expounded for example by Professor Burnet, +does not commend itself to me, that, in fact, I do not believe it, but +that, it being impossible to discuss it adequately in a book of this +kind, I have thought that, rather than discuss it inadequately, it +were better to leave it alone altogether. Moreover, it stands on a +totally different footing from, say, Professor Burnet's interpretation +of Parmenides, which I have discussed. That concerned the +interpretation of the true meaning of a philosophy. This merely +concerns the question who was the author of a philosophy. That was a +question of principle, this merely of personalities. That was of +importance to the philosopher, this merely to the historian and +antiquary. It is like the Bacon-Shakespeare question, which no lover +of drama, as such, need concern himself with at all. No doubt the +Plato-Socrates question is of interest to antiquarians, but after all, +fundamentally, it does not matter who is to have the credit of the +theory of Ideas, the only essential thing for us being to understand +that theory, and rightly to apprehend its value as a factor of the +truth. This book is primarily concerned with philosophical ideas, +their truth, meaning, and significance, and not with the rights and +wrongs of antiquarian disputes. It does indeed purport to {xii} be a +_history_, as well as a discussion of philosophic conceptions. But +this only means that it takes up philosophical ideas in their +historical sequence and connexions, and it does this only because the +conceptions of evolution in philosophy, of the onward march of thought +to a determined goal; of its gradual and steady rise to the supreme +heights of idealism, its subsequent decline, and ultimate collapse, +are not only profoundly impressive as historical phenomena, but are of +vital importance to a true conception of philosophy itself. Were it +not for this, Mr. Wells would, I think, be right, and I for one should +abandon treatment in historical order altogether. Lastly, I may remark +that the description of this book as a _critical_ history means that it +is, or attempts to be critical, not of dates, texts, readings, and the +like, but of philosophical conceptions. + +I owe a debt of thanks to Mr. F. L. Woodward, M.A., late principal of +Mahinda College, Galle, Ceylon, for assisting me in the compilation of +the index of names, and in sundry other matters. + +W.T.S. + +_January_, 1920. + + +{xiii} + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + +I. THE IDEA OF PHILOSOPHY IN GENERAL. THE + ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY 1 + +II. THE IONICS. THALES. ANAXIMANDER. + ANAXIMENES. OTHER IONIC THINKERS 20 + +III. THE PYTHAGOREANS 31 + +IV. THE ELEATICS. XENOPHANES. PARMENIDES. + ZENO. CRITICAL REMARKS ON ELEATICISM 40 + +V. HERACLEITUS 72 + +VI. EMPEDOCLES 81 + +VII. THE ATOMISTS 86 + +VIII. ANAXAGORAS 94 + +IX. THE SOPHISTS 106 + +X. SOCRATES 127 + +XI. THE SEMI-SOCRATICS. THE CYNICS. THE + CYRENAICS. THE MEGARICS 155 + +XII. PLATO 164 + + (i.) Life and writings 165 + + (ii.) The theory of knowledge 177 + + (iii.) Dialectic, or the theory of Ideas 183 + + (iv.) Physics, or the theory of existence 207 + + (a) The doctrine of the world 207 + + (b) The doctrine of the human soul 211 + +{xiv} + + (v.) Ethics 217 + + (a) Of the individual 217 + + (b) The State 225 + + (vi.) Views upon art 229 + + (vii.) Critical estimate of Plato's philosophy 234 + +XIII. ARISTOTLE: + + (i.) Life, Writings, and general character of + his work 249 + + (ii.) Logic 260 + + (iii.) Metaphysics 261 + + (iv.) Physics, or the philosophy of nature 288 + + (v.) Ethics: + + (a) The individual 314 + + (b) The State 320 + + (vi.) Aesthetics, or the theory of art 325 + + (vii.) Critical estimate of + Aristotle's philosophy 331 + +XIV. THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF POST-ARISTOTELIAN + PHILOSOPHY 339 + +XV. THE STOICS. LOGIC. PHYSICS. ETHICS 344 + +XVI. THE EPICUREANS. PHYSICS. ETHICS 354 + +XVII. THE SCEPTICS. PYRRHO. THE NEW ACADEMY. + LATER SCEPTICISM 361 + +XVIII. TRANSITION TO NEO-PLATONISM 368 + +XIX. THE NEO-PLATONISTS 372 + + INDEX OF SUBJECTS 378 + + INDEX OF NAMES 382 + + +{1} +A CRITICAL HISTORY OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY + + +CHAPTER I + + +THE IDEA OF PHILOSOPHY IN GENERAL. + +THE ORIGINS AND DEVELOPMENT OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY + + +It is natural that, at the commencement of any study, one should be +expected to say what the subject-matter of that study is. Botany is +the knowledge of plants, astronomy of the heavenly bodies, geology of +the rocks of the earth's crust. What, then, is the special sphere of +philosophy? What is philosophy about? Now it is not as easy to give a +concise definition of philosophy, as it is of the other sciences. In +the first place, the content of philosophy has differed considerably +in different periods of history. In general the tendency has been to +narrow down the scope of the subject as knowledge advanced, to exclude +from philosophy what was formerly included in it. Thus in the time of +Plato, physics and astronomy were included as parts of philosophy, +whereas now they constitute separate sciences. This, however, is not +an insurmountable difficulty. What chiefly militates against the +effort to frame a definition is that the precise content of philosophy +is differently viewed by different schools of thought. Thus a +definition of {2} philosophy which a follower of Herbert Spencer might +frame would be unacceptable to an Hegelian, and the Hegelian +definition would be rejected by the Spencerian. If we were to include +in our definition some such phrase as "the knowledge of the Absolute," +while this might suit some philosophers, others would deny that there +is any Absolute at all. Another school would say that there may be an +Absolute, but that it is unknowable, so that philosophy cannot be the +knowledge of it. Yet another school would tell us that, whether there +is or is not an Absolute, whether it is or is not knowable, the +knowledge of it is in any case useless, and ought not to be sought. +Hence no definition of philosophy can be appreciated without some +knowledge of the special tenets of the various schools. In a word, the +proper place to give a definition is not at the beginning of the study +of philosophy, but at the end of it. Then, with all views before us, +we might be able to decide the question. + +I shall make no attempt, therefore, to place before you a precise +definition. But perhaps the same purpose will be served, if I pick out +some of the leading traits of philosophy, which serve to distinguish +it from other branches of knowledge, and illustrate them by +enumerating--but without any attempt at completeness--some of the +chief problems which philosophers have usually attempted to solve. And +firstly, philosophy is distinguished from other branches of knowledge +by the fact that, whereas these each take some particular portion of +the universe for their study, philosophy does not specialize in this +way, but deals with the universe as a whole. The universe is one, and +ideal knowledge of it would be one; but the principles of +specialization and division of {3} labour apply here as elsewhere, and +so astronomy takes for its subject that portion of the universe which +we call the heavenly bodies, botany specializes in plant life, +psychology in the facts of the mind, and so on. But philosophy does +not deal with this or that particular sphere of being, but with being +as such. It seeks to see the universe as a single co-ordinated system +of things. It might be described as the science of things in general. +The world in its most universal aspects is its subject. All sciences +tend to generalize, to reduce multitudes of particular facts to single +general laws. Philosophy carries this process to its highest limit. It +generalizes to the utmost. It seeks to view the entire universe in the +light of the fewest possible general principles, in the light, if +possible, of a single ultimate principle. + +It is a consequence of this that the special sciences take their +subject matter, and much of their contents, for granted, whereas +philosophy seeks to trace everything back to its ultimate grounds. It +may be thought that this description of the sciences is incorrect. Is +not the essential maxim of modern science to assume nothing, to take +nothing for granted, to assert nothing without demonstration, to prove +all? This is no doubt true within certain limits, but beyond those +limits it does not hold good. All the sciences take quite for granted +certain principles and facts which are, for them, ultimate. To +investigate these is the portion of the philosopher, and philosophy +thus takes up the thread of knowledge where the sciences drop it. It +begins where they end. It investigates what they take as a matter of +course. + +Let us consider some examples of this. The science of geometry deals +with the laws of space. But it takes {4} space just as it finds it in +common experience. It takes space for granted. No geometrician asks +what space is. This, then, will be a problem for philosophy. Moreover, +geometry is founded upon certain fundamental propositions which, it +asserts, being self-evident, require no investigation. These are +called "axioms." That two straight lines cannot enclose a space, and +that equals being added to equals the results are equal, are common +examples. Into the ground of these axioms the geometrician does not +enquire. That is the business of philosophy. Not that philosophers +affect to doubt the truth of these axioms. But surely it is a very +strange thing, and a fact quite worthy of study, that there are some +statements of which we feel that we must give the most laborious +proofs, and others in the case of which we feel no such necessity. How +is it that some propositions can be self-evident and others must be +proved? What is the ground of this distinction? And when one comes to +think of it, it is a very extraordinary property of mind that it +should be able to make the most universal and unconditional statements +about things, without a jot of evidence or proof. When we say that two +straight lines cannot enclose a space, we do not mean merely that this +has been found true in regard to all the particular pairs of straight +lines with which we have tried the experiment. We mean that it never +can be and never has been otherwise. We mean that a million million +years ago two straight lines did not enclose a space, and that it will +be the same a million million years hence, and that it is just as true +on those stars, if there are any, which are invisible even to the +greatest telescopes. But we have no experience of what will {5} happen +a million million years hence, or of what can take place among those +remote stars. And yet we assert, with absolute confidence, that our +axiom is and must be equally true everywhere and at all times. +Moreover, we do not found this on probabilities gathered from +experience. Nobody would make experiments or use telescopes to prove +such axioms. How is it that they are thus self-evident, that the mind +can make these definite and far-reaching assertions without any +evidence at all? Geometricians do not consider these questions. They +take the facts for granted. To solve these problems is for philosophy. + + +Again, the physical sciences take the existence of matter for granted. +But philosophy asks what matter is. At first sight it might appear +that this question is one for the physicist and not the philosopher. +For the problem of "the constitution of matter" is a well-known +physical problem. But a little consideration will show that this is +quite a different question from the one the philosopher propounds. For +even if it be shown that all matter is ether, or electricity, or +vortex-atoms, or other such, this does not help us in our special +problem. For these theories, even if proved, only teach us that the +different kinds of matter are forms of some one physical existence. +But what we want to know is what physical existence itself is. To +prove that one kind of matter is really another kind of matter does +not tell us what is the essential nature of matter. That, therefore, +is a problem, not of science, but of philosophy. + +In the same way, all the sciences take the existence of the universe +for granted. But philosophy seeks to know why it is that there is a +universe at all. Is it {6} true, for example, that there is some +single ultimate reality which produces all things? And if so, what +sort of a reality is it? Is it matter, or mind, or something different +from both? Is it good or evil? And if it is good, how is it that there +is evil in the world? + +Moreover every science, except the purely mathematical sciences, +assumes the truth of the law of causation. Every student of logic +knows that this is the ultimate canon of the sciences, the foundation +of them all. If we did not believe in the truth of the law of +causation, namely, that everything which has a beginning has a cause, +and that in the same circumstances the same things invariably happen, +all the sciences would at once crumble to dust. In every scientific +investigation, this truth is assumed. If we ask the zoologist how he +knows that all camels are herbivorous, he will no doubt point in the +first instance to experience. The habits of many thousands of camels +have been observed. But this only proves that those particular camels +are herbivorous. How about the millions that have never been observed +at all? He can only appeal to the law of causation. The camel's +structure is such that it cannot digest meat. It is a case of cause +and effect. How do we know that water always freezes at 0 deg. centigrade +(neglecting questions of pressure, etc.)? How do we know that this is +true at those regions of the earth where no one has ever been to see? +Only because we believe that in the same circumstances the same thing +always happens, that like causes always produce like effects. But how +do we know the truth of this law of causation itself? Science does not +consider the question. It traces its assertions back to this law, but +goes no {7} further. Its fundamental canon it takes for granted. The +grounds of causation, why it is true, and how we know it is true, are, +therefore, philosophical questions. + +One may be tempted to enquire whether many of these questions, +especially those connected with the ultimate reality, do not transcend +human faculties altogether, and whether we had not better confine our +enquiries to matters that are not "too high for us." One may question +whether it is possible for finite minds to comprehend the infinite. +Now it is very right that such questions should be asked, and it is +essential that a correct answer should be found. But, for the present, +there is nothing to say about the matter, except that these questions +themselves constitute one of the most important problems of +philosophy, though it is one which, as a matter of fact, has scarcely +been considered in full until modern times. The Greeks did not raise +the question. [Footnote 2] And as this is itself one of the problems +of philosophy, it will be well to start with an open mind. The +question cannot be decided offhand, but must be thoroughly +investigated. That the finite mind of man cannot understand the +infinite is one of those popular dogmatic assertions, which are +bruited about from mouth to mouth, as if they were self-evident, and +so come to tyrannize over men's minds. But for the most part those who +make this statement have never thoroughly sifted the grounds of it, +but simply take it as something universally admitted, and trouble no +further about it. But at the very least we should first know exactly +what {8} we mean by such terms as "mind," "finite," and "infinite." +And we shall not find that our difficulties end even there. + +[Footnote 2: The reasoning of the Sceptics and others no doubt +involved this question. But they did not consider it in its peculiar +modern form.] + + +Philosophy, then, deals with the universe as a whole; and it seeks to +take nothing for granted. A third characteristic may be noted as +especially important, though here no doubt we are trenching upon +matters upon which there is no such universal agreement. Philosophy is +essentially an attempt to rise from sensuous to pure, that is, +non-senuous, thought. This requires some explanation. + +We are conscious, so to speak, of two different worlds, the external +physical world and the internal mental world. If we look outwards we +are aware of the former, if we turn our gaze inwards upon our own +minds we become aware of the latter. It may appear incorrect to say +that the external world is purely physical, for it includes other +minds. I am aware of your mind, and this is, to me, part of the world +which is external to me. But I am not now speaking of what we know by +inference, but only of what we directly perceive. I cannot directly +perceive your mind, but only your physical body. In the last resort it +will be found that I am aware of the existence of your mind only by +inference from perceived physical facts, such as the movements of your +body and the sounds that issue from your lips. The only mind which I +can immediately perceive is my own. There is then a physical world +external to us, and an internal mental world. + +Which of these will naturally be regarded as the most real? Men will +regard as the most real that which is the most familiar, that which +they came first into {9} contact with, and have most experience of. +And this is unquestionably the external material world. When a child +is born, it turns its eyes to the light, which is an external physical +thing. Gradually it gets to know different objects in the room. It +comes to know its mother, but its mother is, in the first instance, a +physical object, a body. It is only long afterwards that its mother +becomes for the child a mind or a soul. In general, all our earliest +experiences are of the material world. We come to know of the mental +world only by introspection, and the habit of introspection comes in +youth or manhood only, and to many people it hardly comes at all. In +all those early impressionable years, therefore, when our most durable +ideas of the universe are formed, we are concerned almost exclusively +with the material world. The mental world with which we are much less +familiar consequently tends to appear to all of us something +comparatively unreal, a world of shadows. The bent of our minds +becomes materialistic. + +What I have said of the individual is equally true of the race. +Primitive man does not brood over the facts of his own mind. Necessity +compels him to devote most of his life to the acquisition of food, and +to warding off the dangers which continually threaten him from other +physical objects. And even among ourselves, the majority of men have +to spend most of their time upon considering various aspects of things +external to them. By the individual training of each man, and by long +hereditary habit, then, it comes about that men tend to regard the +physical world as more real than the mental. + +{10} + +Abundant evidences of this are to be found in the structure of human +language. We seek to explain what is strange by means of what is +well-known. We try to express the unfamiliar in terms of the familiar. +We shall find that language always seeks to express the mental by the +analogy of the physical. We speak of a man as a "clear" thinker. +"Clear" is an attribute of physical objects. Water is clear if it has +no extraneous matter in it. We say that a man's ideas are "luminous," +thus taking a metaphor from physical light. We talk of having an idea +"at the back of the mind." "At the back of"? Has the mind got a front +and a back? We are thinking of it as if it were a physical thing in +space. We speak of mental habits of "attention." "Attention" means +stretching or turning the mind in a special direction. We "reflect." +"Reflection" means bending our thoughts back upon themselves. But, +literally speaking, only physical objects can be stretched, turned, +and bent. Whenever we wish to express something mental we do it by a +physical analogy. We talk of it in terms of physical things. This +shows how deep-rooted our materialism is. If the mental world were +more familiar and real to us than the material, language would have +been constructed on the opposite principle. The earliest words of +language would have expressed mental facts, and we should afterwards +have tried to express physical things by means of mental analogies. + +In the East one commonly hears Oriental idealism contrasted with +Western materialism. Such phrases may possess a certain relative +truth. But if they mean that there is in the East, or anywhere else in +the world, {11} a race of men who are naturally idealists, they are +nonsense. Materialism is ingrained in all men. We, Easterns or +Westerns, are born materialists. Hence when we try to think of objects +which are commonly regarded as non-material, such as God or the soul, +it requires continual effort, a tremendous struggle, to avoid +picturing them as material things. It goes utterly against the grain. +Perhaps hundreds of thousands of years of hereditary materialism are +against us. The popular idea of ghosts will illustrate this. Those who +believe in ghosts, I suppose, regard them as some sort of disembodied +souls. The pictures of ghosts in magazines show them as if composed of +matter, but matter of some _thin_ kind, such as vapour. Certain Indian +systems of thought, which are by way of regarding themselves as +idealistic, nevertheless teach that thought or mind is an extremely +subtle kind of matter, far subtler than any ever dealt with by the +physicist and chemist. This is very interesting, because it shows that +the authors of such ideas feel vaguely that it is wrong to think of +thought as if it were matter, but being unable to think of it in any +other way, owing to man's ingrained materialism, they seek to palliate +their sin by making it thin matter. Of course this is just as absurd +as the excuse made by the mother of an illegitimate child, that it was +a very small one. This thin matter is just as material as lead or +brass. And such systems are purely materialistic. But they illustrate +the extraordinary difficulty that the ordinary mind experiences in +attempting to rise from sensuous to non-sensuous thinking. They +illustrate the ingrained materialism of man. + +This natural human materialism is also the cause {12} of mysticism and +symbolism. A symbolic thought necessarily contains two terms, the +symbol and the reality which it symbolizes. The symbol is always a +sensuous or material object, or the mental image of such an object, +and the reality is always something non-sensuous. Because the human +mind finds it such an incredible struggle to think non-sensuously, it +seeks to help itself by symbols. It takes a material thing and makes +it stand for the non-material thing which it is too weak to grasp. +Thus we talk of God as the "light of lights." No doubt this is a very +natural expression of the religious consciousness, and it has its +meaning. But it is not the naked truth. Light is a physical existence, +and God is no more light than he is heat or electricity. People talk +of symbolism as if it were a very high and exalted thing. They say, +"What a wonderful piece of symbolism!" But, in truth symbolism is the +mark of an infirm mind. It is the measure of our weakness and not of +our strength. Its root is in materialism, and it is produced and +propagated by those who are unable to rise above a materialistic +level. + +Now philosophy is essentially the attempt to get beyond this sort of +symbolic and mystical thinking, to get at the naked truth, to grasp +what lies behind the symbol as it is in itself. These inferior modes +of thought are a help to those who are themselves below their level, +but are a hindrance to those who seek to reach the highest level of +truth. + +It is often said that philosophy is a very difficult and abstruse +subject. Its difficulty lies almost wholly in the struggle to think +non-sensuously. Whenever we {13} come to anything in philosophy that +seems beyond us, we shall generally find that the root of the trouble +is that we are trying to think non-sensuous objects in a sensuous way, +that is, we are trying to form mental pictures and images of them, for +all mental pictures are composed of sensuous materials, and hence no +such picture is adequate for a pure thought. It is impossible to +exaggerate this difficulty. Even the greatest philosophers have +succumbed to it. We shall constantly have to point out that when a +great thinker, such as Parmenides or Plato, fails, and begins to +flounder in difficulties, the reason usually is that, though for a +time he has attained to pure thought, he has sunk back exhausted into +sensuous thinking, and has attempted to form mental pictures of what +is beyond the power of any such picture to represent, and so has +fallen into contradictions. We must keep this constantly in mind in +the study of philosophy. + +In modern times philosophy is variously divided, as into metaphysics, +which is the theory of reality, ethics, the theory of the good, and +aesthetics, the theory of the beautiful. Modern divisions do not, +however, altogether fit in with Greek philosophy, and it is better to +let the natural divisions develop themselves as we go on, than to +attempt to force our material into these moulds. + +If, now, we look round the world and ask; in what countries and what +ages the kind of thought we have described has attained a high degree +of development, we shall find such a development only in ancient +Greece and in modern Europe. There were great civilizations in Egypt, +China, Assyria, and so on. They produced art and religion, but no +philosophy to speak of. Even {14} ancient Rome added nothing to the +world's philosophical knowledge. Its so-called philosophers, Marcus +Aurelius, Seneca, Epictetus, Lucretius, produced no essentially new +principle. They were merely disciples of Greek Schools, whose writings +may be full of interest and of noble feeling, but whose essential +thoughts contained nothing not already developed by the Greeks. + +The case of India is more doubtful. Opinions may differ as to whether +India ever had any philosophy. The Upanishads contain +religio-philosophical thinking of a kind. And later we have the six +so-called schools of philosophy. The reasons why this Indian thought +is not usually included in histories of philosophy are as follows. +Firstly, philosophy in India has never separated itself from religious +and practical needs. The ideal of knowledge for its own sake is rarely +to be found. Knowledge is desired merely as a means towards salvation. +Philosophy and science, said Aristotle, have their roots in +wonder,--the desire to know and understand for the sole sake of +knowing and understanding. But the roots of Indian thought lie in the +anxiety of the individual to escape from the ills and calamities of +existence. This is not the scientific, but the practical spirit. It +gives birth to religions, but not to philosophies. Of course it is a +mistake to imagine that philosophy and religion are totally separate +and have no community. They are in fact fundamentally akin. But they +are also distinct. Perhaps the truest view is that they are identical +in substance, but different in form. The substance of both is the +absolute reality and the relation of all things, including men, to +that reality. But whereas philosophy presents this subject-matter +scientifically, in {15} the form of pure thought, religion gives it in +the form of sensuous pictures, myths, images, and symbols. + +And this gives us the second reason why Indian thought is more +properly classed as religious than philosophical. It seldom or never +rises from sensuous to pure thought. It is poetical rather than +scientific. It is content with symbols and metaphors in place of +rational explanations, and all this is a mark of the religious, rather +than the philosophical, presentation of the truth. For example, the +main thought of the Upanishads is that the entire universe is derived +from a single, changeless, eternal, infinite, being, called Brahman or +Paramatman. When we come to the crucial question how the universe +arises out of this being, we find such passages as this:--"As the +colours in the flame or the red-hot iron proceed therefrom a +thousand-fold, so do all beings proceed from the Unchangeable, and +return again to it." Or again, "As the web issues from the spider, as +little sparks proceed from fire, so from the one soul proceed all +living animals, all worlds, all the gods and all beings." There are +thousands of such passages in the Upanishads. But obviously these +neither explain nor attempt to explain anything. They are nothing but +hollow metaphors. They are poetic rather than scientific. They may +satisfy the imagination and the religious feelings, but not the +rational understanding. Or when again Krishna, in the Bhagavat-Gita, +describes himself as the moon among the lunar mansions, the sun among +the stars, Meru among the high-peaked mountains, it is clear that we +are merely piling sensuous image upon sensuous image without any +further understanding of what the nature of the absolute being in its +own self is. {16} The moon, the sun, Meru, are physical sense-objects. +And this is totally sensuous thinking, whereas the aim of philosophy +is to rise to pure thought. In such passages we are still on the level +of symbolism, and philosophy only begins when symbolism has been +surpassed. No doubt it is possible to take the line that man's thought +is not capable of grasping the infinite as it is in itself, and can +only fall back upon symbols. But that is another question, and at any +rate, whether it is or is not possible to rise from sensuous to pure +thought, philosophy is essentially the attempt to do so. + +Lastly, Indian thought is usually excluded from the history of +philosophy because, whatever its character, it lies outside the main +stream of human development. It has been cut off by geographical and +other barriers. Consequently, whatever its value in itself, it has +exerted little influence upon philosophy in general. + +The claim is sometimes put forward by Orientals themselves that Greek +philosophy came from India, and if this were true, it would greatly +affect the statement made in the last paragraph. But it is not true. +It used to be believed that Greek philosophy came from "the East," but +this meant Egypt. And even this theory is now abandoned. Greek +culture, especially mathematics and astronomy, owed much to Egypt. But +Greece did not owe its philosophy to that source. The view that it did +was propagated by Alexandrian priests and others, whose sole motive +was, that to represent the triumphs of Greek philosophy as borrowed +from Egypt, flattered their national vanity. It was a great thing, +wherever they found anything good, to say, "this must have come from +us." A precisely similar motive lies behind the {17} Oriental claim +that Greek philosophy came from India. There is not a scrap of +evidence for it, and it rests entirely upon the supposed resemblance +between the two. But this resemblance is in fact mythical. The whole +character of Greek philosophy is European and unoriental to the +back-bone. The doctrine of re-incarnation is usually appealed to. This +characteristically Indian doctrine was held by the Pythagoreans, from +whom it passed to Empedocles and Plato. The Pythagoreans got it from +the Orphic sect, to whom quite possibly it came indirectly from India, +although even this is by no means certain, and is in fact highly +doubtful. But even if this be true, it proves nothing. Re-incarnation +is of little importance in Greek philosophy. Even in Plato, who makes +much of it, it is quite unessential to the fundamental ideas of his +philosophy, and is only artificially connected with them. And the +influence of this doctrine upon Plato's philosophy was thoroughly bad. +It was largely responsible for leading him into the main error of his +philosophy, which it required an Aristotle to correct. All this will +be evident when we come to consider the systems of Plato and +Aristotle. + +The origin of Greek philosophy is not to be found in India, or Egypt, +or in any country outside Greece. The Greeks themselves were solely +responsible for it. It is not as if history traces back their thought +only to a point at which it was already highly developed, and cannot +explain its beginnings. We know its history from the time, so to +speak, when it was in the cradle. In the next two chapters we shall +see that the first Greek attempts at philosophising were so much the +beginnings of a beginner, were so very crude and unformed, that it is +{18} mere perversity to suppose that they could not make these simple +efforts for themselves. From those crude beginnings we can trace the +whole development in detail up to its culmination in Aristotle, and +beyond. So there is no need to assume foreign influence at any point. + +Greek philosophy begins in the sixth century before Christ. It begins +when men for the first time attempted to give a scientific reply to +the question, "what is the explanation of the world?" Before this era +we have, of course, the mythologies, cosmogonies, and theologies of +the poets. But they contain no attempt at a naturalistic explanation +of things. They belong to the spheres of poetry and religion, not to +philosophy. + +It must not be supposed, when we speak of the philosophy of Greece, +that we refer only to the mainland of what is now called Greece. Very +early in history, Greeks of the mainland migrated to the islands of +the Aegean, to Sicily, to the South of Italy, to the coast of Asia +Minor, and elsewhere, and founded flourishing colonies. The Greece of +philosophy includes all these places. It is to be thought of rather +racially than territorially. It is the philosophy of the men of Greek +race, wherever they happened to be situated. And in fact the first +period of Greek philosophy deals exclusively with the thoughts of +these colonial Greeks. It was not till just before the time of +Socrates that philosophy was transplanted to the mainland. + +Greek philosophy falls naturally into three periods. The first may be +roughly described as pre-Socratic philosophy, though it does not +include the Sophists who were both the contemporaries and the +predecessors of Socrates. This period is the rise of Greek philosophy. +{19} Secondly, the period from the Sophists to Aristotle, which +includes Socrates and Plato, is the maturity of Greek philosophy, the +actual zenith and culmination of which is undoubtedly the system of +Aristotle. Lastly, the period of post-Aristotelian philosophy +constitutes the decline and fall of the national thought. These are +not merely arbitrary divisions. Each period has its own special +characters, which will be described in the sequel. + +A few words must be said of the sources of our knowledge of +pre-Socratic philosophy. If we want to know what Plato and Aristotle +thought about any matter, we have only to consult their works. But the +works of the earlier philosophers have not come down to us, except in +fragments, and several of them never committed their opinions to +writing. Our knowledge of their doctrines is the result of the +laborious sifting by scholars of such materials as are available. +Luckily the material has been plentiful. It may be divided into three +classes. First come the fragments of the original writings of the +philosophers themselves. These are in many cases long and important, +in other cases scanty. Secondly, there are the references in Plato and +Aristotle. Of these by far the most important are to be found in the +first book of Aristotle's "Metaphysics," which is a history of +philosophy up to his own time, and is the first attempt on record to +write a history of philosophy. Thirdly, there is an enormous mass of +references, some valuable, some worthless, contained in the works of +later, but still ancient, writers. + +{20} + +CHAPTER II + +THE IONICS. + + + +The earliest Greek philosophers belong to what in after times came to +be called the Ionic school. The name was derived from the fact that +the three chief representatives of this school, Thales, Anaximander, +and Anaximenes, were all men of Ionia, that is to say, the coast of +Asia Minor. + + + +Thales + +As the founder of the earliest school in history, Thales of Miletus is +generally accounted the founder and father of all philosophy. He was +born about 624 B.C. and died about 550 B.C. These dates are +approximate, and it should be understood that the same thing is true +of nearly all the dates of the early philosophers. Different scholars +vary, sometimes as much as ten years, in the dates they give. We shall +not enter into these questions at all, because they are of no +importance. And throughout these lectures it should be understood that +the dates given are approximate. + +Thales, at any rate, was a contemporary of Solon and Croesus. He was +famous in antiquity for his mathematical and astronomical learning, +and also for his practical sagacity and wisdom. He is included in {21} +all the accounts of the Seven Sages. The story of the Seven Sages is +unhistorical, but the fact that the lists of their names differ +considerably as given by different writers, whereas the name of Thales +appears in all, shows with what veneration he was anciently regarded. +An eclipse of the sun occurred in 585 B.C., and Thales is alleged to +have predicted it, which was a feat for the astronomy of those times. +And he must have been a great engineer, for he caused a diversion of +the river Halys, when Croesus and his army were unable to cross it. +Nothing else is known of his life, though there were many apocryphal +stories. + +No writings by Thales were extant even in the time of Aristotle, and +it is believed that he wrote nothing. His philosophy, if we can call +it by that name, consisted, so far as we know, of two propositions. +Firstly, that the principle of all things is water, that all comes +from water, and to water all returns. And secondly, that the earth is +a flat disc which floats upon water. The first, which is the chief +proposition, means that water is the one primal kind of existence and +that everything else in the universe is merely a modification of +water. Two questions will naturally occur to us. Why did Thales choose +water as the first principle? And by what process does water, in his +opinion, come to be changed into other things; how was the universe +formed out of water? We cannot answer either of these questions with +certainty. Aristotle says that Thales "probably derived his opinion +from observing that the nutriment of all things is moist, and that +even actual heat is generated therefrom, and that animal life is +sustained by water, ... and from the fact that the seeds of all things +possess {22} a moist nature, and that water is a first principle of +all things that are humid." This is very likely the true explanation. +But it will be noted that even Aristotle uses the word "probably," and +so gives his statement merely as a conjecture. How, in the opinion of +Thales, the universe arose out of water, is even more uncertain. Most +likely he never asked himself the question, and gave no explanation. +At any rate nothing is known on the point. + +This being the sum and substance of the teaching of Thales, we may +naturally ask why, on account of such a crude and undeveloped idea, he +should be given the title of the father of philosophy. Why should +philosophy be said to begin here in particular? Now, the significance +of Thales is not that his water-philosophy has any value in itself, +but that this was the first recorded attempt to explain the universe +on naturalistic and scientific principles, without the aid of myths +and anthropomorphic gods. Moreover, Thales propounded the problem, and +determined the direction and character, of all pre-Socratic +philosophy. The fundamental thought of that period was, that under the +multiplicity of the world there must be a single ultimate principle. +The problem of all philosophers from Thales to Anaxagoras was, what is +the nature of that first principle from which all things have issued? +Their systems are all attempts to answer this question, and may be +classified according to their different replies. Thus Thales asserted +that the ultimate reality is water, Anaximander indefinite matter, +Anaximenes air, the Pythagoreans number, the Eleatics Being, +Heracleitus fire, Empedocles the four elements, Democritus atoms, and +so on. The first period is thus {23} essentially cosmological in +character, and it was Thales who determined the character. His +importance is that he was the first to propound the question, not that +he gave any rational reply to it. + +We saw in the first chapter, that man is naturally a materialist, and +that philosophy is the movement from sensuous to non-sensuous thought. +As we should expect, then, philosophy begins in materialism. The first +answer to the question, what the ultimate reality is, places the +nature of that reality in a sensuous object, water. The other members +of the Ionic school, Anaximander, and Anaximenes, are also +materialists. And from their time onwards we can trace the gradual +rise of thought, with occasional breaks and relapses, from this +sensualism of the Ionics, through the semi-sensuous idealism of the +Eleatics, to the highest point of pure non-sensuous thought, the +idealism of Plato and Aristotle. It is important to keep in mind, +then, that the history of philosophy is not a mere chaotic hotch-potch +of opinions and theories, succeeding each other without connection or +order. It is a logical and historical evolution, each step in which is +determined by the last, and advances beyond the last towards a +definite goal. The goal, of course, is visible to us, but was not +visible to the early thinkers themselves. + +Since man begins by looking outwards upon the external world and not +inwards upon his own self, this fact too determines the character of +the first period of Greek philosophy. It concerns itself solely with +nature, with the external world, and only with man as a part of +nature. It demands an explanation of nature. And this is the same as +saying that it is cosmological. The {24} problems of man, of life, of +human destiny, of ethics, are treated by it scantily, or not at all. +It is not till the time of the Sophists that the Greek spirit turns +inwards upon itself and begins to consider these problems, and with +the emergence of that point of view we have passed from the first to +the second period of Greek philosophy. + +Because the Ionic philosophers were all materialists they are also +sometimes called Hylicists, from the Greek _hule_ which means matter. + + + +Anaximander + +The next philosopher of the Ionic school is Anaximander. He was an +exceedingly original and audacious thinker. He was probably born about +611 B.C. and died about 547. He was an inhabitant of Miletus, and is +said to have been a disciple of Thales. It will be seen, thus, that he +was a younger contemporary of Thales. He was born at the time that +Thales was flourishing, and was about a generation younger. He was the +first Greek to write a philosophic treatise, which however has been +unfortunately lost. He was eminent for his astronomical and +geographical knowledge, and in this connection was the first to +construct a map. Details of his life are not known. + +Now Thales had made the ultimate principle of the universe, water. +Anaximander agrees with Thales that the ultimate principle of things +is material, but he does not name it water, does not in fact believe +that it is any particular kind of matter. It is rather a formless, +indefinite, and absolutely featureless matter in general. {25} Matter, +as we know it, is always some particular kind of matter. It must be +iron, brass, water, air, or other such. The difference between the +different kinds of matter is qualitative, that is to say, we know that +air is air because it has the qualities of air and differs from iron +because iron has the qualities of iron, and so on. The primeval matter +of Anaximander is just matter not yet sundered into the different +kinds of matter. It is therefore formless and characterless. And as it +is thus indeterminate in quality, so it is illimitable in quantity. +Anaximander believed that this matter stretches out to infinity +through space. The reason he gave for this opinion was, that if there +were a limited amount of matter it would long ago have been used up in +the creation and destruction of the "innumerable worlds." Hence he +called it "the boundless." In regard to these "innumerable worlds," +the traditional opinion about Anaximander was that he believed these +worlds to succeed each other in time, and that first a world was +created, developed, and was destroyed, then another world arose, was +developed and destroyed, and that this periodic revolution of worlds +went on for ever. Professor Burnet, however, is of opinion that the +"innumerable worlds" of Anaximander were not necessarily successive but +rather simultaneously existing worlds. According to this view there +may be any number of worlds existing at the same time. But, even so, +it is still true that these worlds were not everlasting, but began, +developed and decayed, giving place in due time to other worlds. + +How, now, have these various worlds been formed out of the formless, +indefinite, indeterminate matter of {26} Anaximander? On this question +Anaximander is vague and has nothing very definite to put forward. +Indeterminate matter by a vaguely conceived process separates itself +into "the hot" and "the cold." The cold is moist or damp. This cold +and moist matter becomes the earth, in the centre of the universe. The +hot matter collects into a sphere of fire surrounding the earth. The +earth in the centre was originally fluid. The heat of the surrounding +sphere caused the waters of the earth progressively to evaporate +giving rise to the envelope of air which surrounds the earth. For the +early Greeks regarded the air and vapour as the same thing. As this +air or vapour expanded under the action of heat it burst the outside +hot sphere of fire into a series of enormous "wheel-shaped husks," +resembling cart wheels, which encircle the earth. You may naturally +ask how it is that if these are composed of fire we do not see them +continually glowing. Anaximander's answer was that these wheel-shaped +husks are encrusted with thick, opaque vapour, which conceals the +inner fire from our view. But there are apertures, or pipe-like holes +in the vapour-crust, and through these the fire gleams, causing the +appearance of the sun, stars, and moon. You will note that the moon +was, on this theory, considered to be fiery, and not, as we now know +it to be, a cold surface reflecting the sun's light. There were three +of these "cart wheels"; the first was that of the sun, furthest away +from the earth, nearer to us was that of the moon, and closest of all +was that of the fixed stars. The "wheel-shaped husks" containing the +heavenly bodies are revolved round the earth by means of currents of +air. The earth in the centre was believed by {27} Anaximander to be +not spherical but cylindrical. Men live on the top end of this pillar +or cylinder. + +Anaximander also developed a striking theory about the origin and +evolution of living beings. In the beginning the earth was fluid and +in the gradual drying up by evaporation of this fluid, living beings +were produced from the heat and moisture. In the first instance these +beings were of a low order. They gradually evolved into successively +higher and higher organisms by means of adaptation to their +environment. Man was in the first instance a fish living in the water. +The gradual drying up left parts of the earth high and dry, and marine +animals migrated to the land, and their fins by adaptation became +members fitted for movement on land. The resemblance of this primitive +theory to modern theories of evolution is remarkable. It is easy to +exaggerate its importance, but it is at any rate clear that +Anaximander had, by a happy guess, hit upon the central idea of +adaptation of species to their environment. + +The teaching of Anaximander exhibits a marked advance beyond the +position of Thales. Thales had taught that the first principle of +things is water. The formless matter of Anaximander is, +philosophically, an advance on this, showing the operation of thought +and abstraction. Secondly, Anaximander had definitely attempted to +apply this idea, and to derive from it the existent world. Thales had +left the question how the primal water developed into a world, +entirely unanswered. + + + +Anaximenes + +Like the two previous thinkers Anaximenes was an inhabitant of +Miletus. He was born about 588 B.C. and {28} died about 524. He wrote +a treatise of which a small fragment still remains. He agreed with +Thales and Anaximander that the first principle of the universe is +material. With Thales too, he looked upon it as a particular kind of +matter, not indeterminate matter as taught by Anaximander. Thales had +declared it to be water. Anaximenes named air as first principle. This +air, like the matter of Anaximander, stretches illimitably through +space. Air is constantly in motion and has the power of motion +inherent in it and this motion brought about the development of the +universe from air. As operating process of this development Anaximenes +named the two opposite processes of (1) Rarefaction, (2) Condensation. +Rarefaction is the same thing as heat or growing hot, and condensation +is identified with growing cold. The air by rarefaction becomes fire, +and fire borne aloft upon the air becomes the stars. By the opposite +process of condensation, air first becomes clouds and, by further +degrees of condensation, becomes successively water, earth, and rocks. +The world resolves again in the course of time into the primal air. +Anaximenes, like Anaximander, held the theory of "innumerable worlds," +and these worlds are, according to the traditional view, successive. +But here again Professor Burnet considers that the innumerable worlds +may have been co-existent as well as successive. Anaximenes considered +the earth to be a flat disc floating upon air. + +The origin of the air theory of Anaximenes seems to have been +suggested to him by the fact that air in the form of breath is the +principle of life. + +The teaching of Anaximenes seems at first sight to be {29} a falling +off from the position of Anaximander, because he goes back to the +position of Thales in favour of a determinate matter as first +principle. But in one respect at least there is here an advance upon +Anaximander. The latter had been vague as to how formless matter +differentiates itself into the world of objects. Anaximenes names the +definite processes of rarefaction and condensation. If you believe, as +these early physicists did, that every different kind of matter is +ultimately one kind of matter, the problem of the differentiation of +the qualities of the existent elements arises. For example, if this +paper is really composed of air, how do we account for its colour, its +hardness, texture, etc. Either these qualities must be originally in +the primal air, or not. If the qualities existed in it then it was not +really one homogeneous matter like air, but must have been simply a +mixture of different kinds of matter. If not, how do these properties +arise? How can this air which has not in it the qualities of things we +see, develop them? The simplest way of getting out of the difficulty +is to found quality upon quantity, and to explain the former by the +amount or quantity, more or less, of matter existent in the same +volume. This is precisely what is meant by rarefaction and +condensation. Condensation would result in compressing more matter +into the same volume. Rarefaction would give rise to the opposite +process. Great compression of air, a great amount of it in a small +space, might account for the qualities, say, of earth and stones, for +example, their heaviness, hardness, colour, etc. + +Hence Anaximenes was to some extent a more logical and definite +thinker than Anaximander, but cannot {30} compare with him in audacity +and originality of thought. + + + +Other Ionic Thinkers + +We have now considered the three chief thinkers of the Ionic School. +Others there were, but they added nothing new to the teaching of these +three. They followed either Thales or Anaximenes in stating the first +principle of the world either as water or as air. Hippo, for example, +followed Thales, and for him the world is composed of water, Idaeus +agreed with Anaximenes that it is derived from air. Diogenes of +Apollonia is chiefly remarkable for the fact that he lived at a very +much later date. He was a contemporary of Anaxagoras, and opposed to +the more developed teachings of that philosopher the crude materialism +of the Ionic School. Air was by him considered to be the ground of all +things. + +{31} + +CHAPTER III + +THE PYTHAGOREANS + +Not much is known of the life of Pythagoras. Three so-called +biographies have come down to us from antiquity, but they were written +hundreds of years after the event, and are filled with a tissue of +extravagant fancies, and with stories of miracles and wonders worked +by Pythagoras. All sorts of fantastic legends seem to have gathered +very early around his life, obscuring from us the actual historical +details. A few definite facts, however, are known. He was born +somewhere between 580 and 570 B.C. at Samos, and about middle age he +migrated to Crotona in South Italy. According to legend, before he +arrived in South Italy he had travelled extensively in Egypt and other +countries of the East. There is, however, no historical evidence of +this. There is nothing in itself improbable in the belief that +Pythagoras made these travels, but it cannot be accepted as proved for +lack of evidence. The legend is really founded simply upon the +oriental flavour of his doctrines. In middle age he arrived in South +Italy and settled at Crotona. There he founded the Pythagorean Society +and lived for many years at the head of it. His later life, the date +and manner of his death, are not certainly known. + +Now it is important to note that the Pythagorean {32} Society was not +primarily a school of philosophy at all. It was really a religious and +moral Order, a Society of religious reformers. The Pythagoreans were +closely associated with the Orphic Sect, and took from it the belief +in the transmigration of souls, including transmigration of human +souls into animals. They also taught the doctrine of the "wheel of +things," and the necessity of obtaining "release" from it, by which +one could escape from the weary round of reincarnate lives. Thus they +shared with the Orphic religious Sect the principle of reincarnation. +The Orphic Sect believed that "release" from the wheel of life was to +be obtained by religious ceremonial and ritual. The Pythagoreans had a +similar ritual, but they added to this the belief that intellectual +pursuits, the cultivation of science and philosophy, and, in general, +the intellectual contemplation of the ultimate things of the universe +would be of great help towards the "release" of the soul. From this +arose the tendency to develop science and philosophy. Gradually their +philosophy attained a semi-independence from their religious rites +which justifies us in regarding it definitely as philosophy. + +The Pythagorean ethical views were rigorous and ascetic in character. +They insisted upon the utmost purity of life in the members of the +Order. Abstinence from flesh was insisted upon, although this was +apparently a late development. We know that Pythagoras himself was not +a total abstainer from flesh. They forbade the eating of beans. They +wore a garb peculiar to themselves. The body, they taught, is the +prison or tomb of the soul. They thought that one must not attempt to +obtain "release" by suicide, because "man is the {33} property of +God," the chattel of God. They were not politicians in the modern +sense, but their procedure in practice amounted to the greatest +possible interference in politics. It appears that the Pythagoreans +attempted to impose their ordinances upon the ordinary citizens of +Crotona. They aimed at the supersession of the State by their own +Order and they did actually capture the government of Crotona for a +short period. This led to attacks on the Order, and the persecution of +its members. When the plain citizen of Crotona was told not to eat +beans, and that under no circumstances could he eat his own dog, this +was too much. A general persecution occurred. The meeting place of the +Pythagoreans was burnt to the ground, the Society was scattered, and +its members killed or driven away. This occurred between the years 440 +and 430 B.C. Some years later the Society revived and continued its +activities, but we do not hear much of it after the fourth century +B.C. + +It was largely a mystical society. The Pythagoreans developed their +own ritual, ceremonial and mysteries. This love of mystery, and their +general character as miracle-mongers, largely account for the legends +which grew up around the life of Pythagoras himself. Their scientific +activities were also considerable. They enforced moral self-control. +They cultivated the arts and crafts, gymnastics, music, medicine, and +mathematics. The development of mathematics in early Greece was +largely the work of the Pythagoreans. Pythagoras is said to have +discovered the 47th Proposition of Euclid, and to have sacrificed an +ox in honour thereof. And there is good reason to believe that +practically the whole of the substance of the First Book of Euclid is +the work of Pythagoras. + +{34} + +Turning now to their philosophical teaching, the first thing that we +have to understand is that we cannot speak of the philosophy of +Pythagoras, but only of the philosophy of the Pythagoreans. For it is +not known what share Pythagoras had in this philosophy or what share +was contributed by his successors. Now we recognize objects in the +universe by means of their qualities. But the majority of these +qualities are not universal in their scope; some things possess some +qualities; others possess others. A leaf, for example, is green, but +not all things are green. Some things have no colour at all. The same +is true of tastes and smells. Some things are sweet; some bitter. But +there is one quality in things which is absolutely universal in its +scope, which applies to everything in the universe--corporeal or +incorporeal. All things are _numerable_, and can be counted. Moreover, +it is impossible to conceive a universe in which number is not to be +found. You could easily imagine a universe in which there is no +colour, or no sweet taste, or a universe in which nothing possesses +weight. But you cannot imagine a universe in which there is no number. +This is an inconceivable thought. Upon these grounds we should be +justified in concluding that number is an extremely important aspect +of things, and forms a fundamental pad of the framework of the world. +And it is upon this aspect of things that the Pythagoreans laid +emphasis. + +They drew attention to proportion, order, and harmony as the dominant +notes of the universe. Now when we examine the ideas of proportion, +order, and harmony, we shall see that they are closely connected with +number. Proportion, for example, must necessarily {35} be expressible +by the relation of one number to another. Similarly order is +measurable by numbers. When we say that the ranks of a regiment +exhibit order, we mean that they are arranged in such a way that the +soldiers stand at certain regular distances from each other, and these +distances are measurable by numbers of feet or inches. Lastly, +consider the idea of harmony. If, in modern times, we were to say that +the universe is a harmonious whole, we should understand that we are +merely using a metaphor from music. But the Pythagoreans lived in an +age when men were not practised in thought, and they confused cosmical +harmony with musical harmony. They thought that the two things were +the same. Now musical harmony is founded upon numbers, and the +Pythagoreans were the first to discover this. The difference of notes +is due to the different numbers of vibrations of the sounding +instrument. The musical intervals are likewise based upon numerical +proportions. So that since, for the Pythagoreans, the universe is a +musical harmony, it follows that the essential character of the +universe is number. The study of mathematics confirmed the +Pythagoreans in this idea. Arithmetic is the science of numbers, and +all other mathematical sciences are ultimately reducible to numbers. +For instance, in geometry, angles are measured by the number of +degrees. + +Now, as already pointed out, considering all these facts, we might +well be justified in concluding that number is a very important aspect +of the universe, and is fundamental in it. But the Pythagoreans went +much further than this. They drew what seems to us the extraordinary +conclusion that the world is _made of_ {36} numbers. At this point, +then, we reach the heart of the Pythagorean philosophy. Just as Thales +had said that the ultimate reality, the first principle of which +things are composed, is water, so now the Pythagoreans teach that the +first principle of things is number. Number is the world-ground, the +stuff out of which the universe is made. + +In the detailed application of this principle to the world of things +we have a conglomeration of extraordinary fancies and extravagances. +In the first place, all numbers arise out of the unit. This is the +prime number, every other number being simply so many units. The unit +then is the first in the order of things in the universe. Again, +numbers are divided into odd and even. The universe, said the +Pythagoreans, is composed of pairs of opposites and contradictories, +and the fundamental character of these opposites is that they are +composed of the odd and even. The odd and even, moreover, they +identified with the limited and the unlimited respectively. How this +identification was made seems somewhat doubtful. But it is clearly +connected with the theory of bipartition. An even number can be +divided by two and therefore it does not set a limit to bipartition. +Hence it is unlimited. An odd number cannot be divided by two, and +therefore it sets a limit to bipartition. The limited and the +unlimited become therefore the ultimate principles of the universe. +The Limit is identified with the unit, and this again with the central +fire of the universe. The Limit is first formed and proceeds to draw +more and more of the unlimited towards itself, and to limit it. +Becoming limited, it becomes a definite "something," a thing. So the +formation of the {37} world of things proceeds. The Pythagoreans drew +up a list of ten opposites of which the universe is composed. They are +(1) Limited and unlimited, (2) odd and even, (3) one and many, (4) +right and left, (5) masculine and feminine, (6) rest and motion, (7) +straight and crooked, (8) light and darkness, (9) good and evil, (10) +square and oblong. + +With the further development of the number-theory Pythagoreanism +becomes entirely arbitrary and without principle. We hear, for +example, that 1 is the point, 2 is the line, 3 is the plane, 4 is the +solid, 5 physical qualities, 6 animation, 7 intelligence, health, +love, wisdom. There is no principle in all this. Identification of the +different numbers with different things can only be left to the whim +and fancy of the individual. The Pythagoreans disagreed among +themselves as to what number is to be assigned to what thing. For +example, justice, they said, is that which returns equal for equal. If +I do a man an injury, justice ordains that injury should be done to +me, thus giving equal for equal. Justice must, therefore, be a number +which returns equal for equal. Now the only numbers which do this are +square numbers. Four equals two into two, and so returns equal for +equal. Four, then, must be justice. But nine is equally the square of +three. Hence other Pythagoreans identified justice with nine. + +According to Philolaus, one of the most prominent Pythagoreans, the +quality of matter depends upon the number of sides of its smallest +particles. Of the five regular solids, three were known to the +Pythagoreans. That matter whose smallest particles are regular +tetrahedra, said Philolaus, is fire. Similarly earth is composed {38} +of cubes, and the universe is identified with the dodecahedron. This +idea was developed further by Plato in the "Timaeus," where we find +all the five regular solids brought into the theory. + +The central fire, already mentioned as identified with the unit, is a +characteristic doctrine of the Pythagoreans. Up to this time it had +been believed that the earth is the centre of the universe, and that +everything revolves round it. But with the Pythagoreans the earth +revolves round the central fire. One feels inclined at once to +identify this with the sun. But this is not correct. The sun, like the +earth, revolves round the central fire. We do not see the central fire +because that side of the earth on which we live is perpetually turned +away from it. This involves the theory that the earth revolves round +the central fire in the same period that it takes to rotate upon its +axis. The Pythagoreans were the first to see that the earth is itself +one of the planets, and to shake themselves free from the geocentric +hypothesis. Round the central fire, sometimes mystically called "the +Hearth of the Universe," revolve ten bodies. First is the +"counter-earth," a non-existent body invented by the Pythagoreans, +next comes the earth, then the sun, the moon, the five planets, and +lastly the heaven of the fixed stars. This curious system might have +borne fruit in astronomy. That it did not do so was largely due to the +influence of Aristotle, who discountenanced the theory, and insisted +that the earth is the centre of the universe. But in the end the +Pythagorean view won the day. We know that Copernicus derived the +suggestion of his heliocentric hypothesis from the Pythagoreans. + +{39} + +The Pythagoreans also taught "The Great Year," probably a period of +10,000 years, in which the world comes into being and passes away, +going in each such period through the same evolution down to the +smallest details. + +There is little to be said by way of criticism of the Pythagorean +system. It is entirely crude philosophy. The application of the number +theory issues in a barren and futile arithmetical mysticism. Hegel's +words in this connection are instructive:-- + +"We may certainly," he says, "feel ourselves prompted to associate the +most general characteristics of thought with the first numbers: saying +one is the simple and immediate, two is difference and mediation, and +three the unity of both these. Such associations however are purely +external; there is nothing in the mere numbers to make them express +these definite thoughts. With every step in this method, the more +arbitrary grows the association of definite numbers with definite +thoughts ... To attach, as do some secret societies of modern times, +importance to all sorts of numbers and figures is, to some extent an +innocent amusement, but it is also a sign of deficiency of +intellectual resource. These numbers, it is said, conceal a profound +meaning, and suggest a deal to think about. But the point in +philosophy is not what you may think but what you do think; and the +genuine air of thought is to be sought in thought itself and not in +arbitrarily selected symbols." [Footnote 3] + +[Footnote 3: Hegel's _Smaller Logic_, translated by Wallace, second +edition, page 198.] + + + +{40} + +CHAPTER IV + +THE ELEATICS + +The Eleatics are so called because the seat of their school was at +Elea, a town in South Italy, and Parmenides and Zeno, the two chief +representatives of the school, were both citizens of Elea. So far we +have been dealing with crude systems of thought in which only the +germs of philosophic thinking can be dimly discerned. Now, however, +with the Eleatics we step out definitely for the first time upon the +platform of philosophy. Eleaticism is the first true philosophy. In it +there emerges the first factor of the truth, however poor, meagre, and +inadequate. For philosophy is not, as many persons suppose, simply a +collection of freak speculations, which we may study in historical +order, but at the end of which, God alone knows which we ought to +believe. On the contrary, the history of philosophy presents a +definite line of evolution. The truth unfolds itself gradually in +time. + + + +Xenophanes + +The reputed founder of the Eleatic School was Xenophanes. It is, +however, doubtful whether Xenophanes ever went to Elea. Moreover, he +belongs more properly {41} to the history of religion than to the +history of philosophy. The real creator of the Eleatic School was +Parmenides. But Parmenides seized upon certain germs of thought latent +in Xenophanes and transmuted them into philosophic principles. We +have, therefore, in the first instance, to say something of +Xenophanes. He was born about the year 576 B.C., at Colophon in Ionia. +His long life was spent in wandering up and down the cities of Hellas, +as a poet and minstrel, singing songs at banquets and festivals. +Whether, as sometimes stated; he finally settled at Elea is a matter +of doubt, but we know definitely that at the advanced age of +ninety-two he was still wandering about Greece. His philosophy, such +as it is, is expressed in poems. He did not, however, write +philosophical poems, but rather elegies and satires upon various +subjects, only incidentally expressing his religious views therein. +Fragments of these poems have come down to us. + +Xenophanes is the originator of the quarrel between philosophy and +religion. He attacked the popular religious notions of the Greeks with +a view to founding a purer and nobler conception of Deity. Popular +Greek religion consisted of a belief in a number of gods who were +conceived very much as in the form of human beings. Xenophanes attacks +this conception of God as possessing human form. It is absurd, he +says, to suppose that the gods wander about from place to place, as +represented in the Greek legends. It is absurd to suppose that the +gods had a beginning. It is disgraceful to impute to them stories of +fraud, adultery, theft and deceit. And Xenophanes inveighs against +Homer and Hesiod for disseminating these degrading conceptions {42} of +the Deity. He argues, too, against the polytheistic notion of a +plurality of gods. That which is divine can only be one. There can +only be one best. Therefore, God is to be conceived as one. And this +God is comparable to mortals neither in bodily form nor understanding. +He is "all eye, all ear, all thought." It is he "who, without trouble, +by his thought governs all things." But it would be a mistake to +suppose that Xenophanes thought of this God as a being external to the +world, governing it from the outside, as a general governs his +soldiers. On the contrary, Xenophanes identified God with the world. +The world is God, a sentient being, though without organs of sense. +Looking out into the wide heavens, he said, "The One is God." +[Footnote 4] The thought of Xenophanes is therefore more properly +described as pantheism than as monotheism. God is unchangeable, +immutable, undivided, unmoved, passionless, undisturbed. Xenophanes +appears, thus, rather as a religious reformer than as a philosopher. +Nevertheless, inasmuch as he was the first to enunciate the +proposition "All is one," he takes his place in philosophy. It was +upon this thought that Parmenides built the foundations of the Eleatic +philosophy. + +[Footnote 4: Aristotle, _Metaphysics_, Book I. chapter v.] + +Certain other opinions of Xenophanes have been preserved. He observed +fossils, and found shells inland, and the forms of fish and sea-weed +embedded in the rocks in the quarries of Syracuse and elsewhere. From +these he concluded that the earth had risen out of the sea and would +again partially sink into it. Then the human race would be destroyed. +But the earth would again rise from the sea and the human race would +again [43] be renewed. He believed that the sun and stars were burning +masses of vapour. The sun, he thought, does not revolve round the +earth. It goes on in a straight line, and disappears in the remote +distance in the evening. It is not the same sun which rises the next +morning. Every day a new sun is formed out of the vapours of the sea. +This idea is connected with his general attitude towards the popular +religion. His motive was to show that the sun and stars are not divine +beings, but like other beings, ephemeral. Xenophanes also ridiculed +the Pythagoreans, especially their doctrine of re-incarnation. + + + +Parmenides + +Parmenides was born about 514 B.C. at Elea. Not much is known of his +life. He was in his early youth a Pythagorean, but recanted that +philosophy and formulated a philosophy of his own. He was greatly +revered in antiquity both for the depth of his intellect, and the +sublimity and nobility of his character. Plato refers to him always +with reverence. His philosophy is comprised in a philosophic didactic +poem which is divided into two parts. The first part expounds his own +philosophy and is called "the way of truth." The second part describes +the false opinions current in his day and is called "the way of +opinion." + +The reflection of Parmenides takes its rise from observation of the +transitoriness and changeableness of things. The world, as we know it, +is a world of change and mutation. All things arise and pass away. +Nothing is permanent, nothing stands. One moment it is, another moment +it is not. It is as true to say of {44} anything, that it is not, as +that it is. The truth of things cannot lie here, for no knowledge of +that which is constantly changing is possible. Hence the thought of +Parmenides becomes the effort to find the eternal amid the shifting, +the abiding and everlasting amid the change and mutation of things. +And there arises in this way the antithesis between Being and +not-being. The absolutely real is Being. Not-being is the unreal. +Not-being is not at all. And this not-being he identifies with +becoming, with the world of shifting and changing things, the world +which is known to us by the senses. The world of sense is unreal, +illusory, a mere appearance. It is not-being. Only Being truly is. As +Thales designated water the one reality, as the Pythagoreans named +number, so now for Parmenides the sole reality, the first principle of +things, is Being, wholly unmixed with not-being, wholly excludent of +all becoming. The character of Being he describes, for the most part, +in a series of negatives. There is in it no change, it is absolutely +unbecome and imperishable. It has neither beginning nor end, neither +arising nor passing away. If Being began, it must have arisen either +from Being or from not-being. But for Being to arise out of Being, +that is not a beginning, and for Being to arise out of not-being is +impossible, since there is then no reason why it should arise later +rather than sooner. Being cannot come out of not-being, nor something +out of nothing. _Ex nihilo nihil fit_. This is the fundamental thought +of Parmenides. Moreover, we cannot say of Being that it was, that it +is, that it will be. There is for it no past, no present, and no +future. It is rather eternally and timelessly present. It is undivided +and indivisible. For anything to be divided {45} it must be divided by +something other than itself. But there is nothing other than Being; +there is no not-being. Therefore there is nothing by which Being can +be divided. Hence it is indivisible. It is unmoved and undisturbed, +for motion and disturbance are forms of becoming, and all becoming is +excluded from Being. It is absolutely self-identical. It does not +arise from anything other than itself. It does not pass into anything +other than itself. It has its whole being in itself. It does not +depend upon anything else for its being and reality. It does not pass +over into otherness; it remains, steadfast, and abiding in itself. Of +positive character Being has nothing. Its sole character is simply its +being. It cannot be said that it is this or that; it cannot be said +that it has this or that quality, that it is here or there, then or +now. It simply _is_. Its only quality is, so to speak, "isness." + +But in Parmenides there emerges for the first time a distinction of +fundamental importance in philosophy, the distinction between Sense +and Reason. The world of falsity and appearance, of becoming, of +not-being, this is, says Parmenides, the world which is presented to +us by the senses. True and veritable Being is known to us only by +reason, by thought. The senses therefore, are, for Parmenides, the +sources of all illusion and error. Truth lies only in reason. This is +exceedingly important, because this, _that truth lies in reason and not +in the world of sense_, is the fundamental position of idealism. + +The doctrine of Being, just described, occupies the first part of the +poem of Parmenides. The second part is the way of false opinion. But +whether Parmenides is here simply giving an account of the false +philosophies {46} of his day, (and in doing this there does not seem +much point,) or whether he was, with total inconsistency, attempting, +in a cosmological theory of his own, to explain the origin of that +world of appearance and illusion, whose very being he has, in the +first part of the poem, denied--this does not seem to be clear. The +theory here propounded, at any rate, is that the sense-world is +composed of the two opposites, the hot and the cold, or light and +darkness. The more hot there is, the more life, the more reality; the +more cold, the more unreality and death. + +What position, now, are we to assign to Parmenides in philosophy? How +are we to characterize his system? Such writers as Hegel, Erdmann, and +Schwegler, have always interpreted his philosophy in an idealistic +sense. Professor Burnet, however, takes the opposite view. To quote +his own words: "Parmenides is not, as some have said, the father of +idealism. On the contrary, all materialism depends upon his view." +[Footnote 5] Now if we cannot say whether Parmenides was a materialist +or an idealist, we cannot be said to understand much about his +philosophy. The question is therefore of cardinal importance. Let us +see, in the first place, upon what grounds the materialistic +interpretation of Parmenides is based. It is based upon a fact which I +have so far not mentioned, leaving it for explanation at this moment. +Parmenides said that Being, which is for him the ultimate reality, +occupies space, is finite, and is spherical or globe-shaped. Now that +which occupies space, and has shape, is matter. The ultimate reality +of things, therefore, is conceived by Parmenides as material, and +this, of course, is the {47} cardinal thesis of materialism. This +interpretation of Parmenides is further emphasized in the disagreement +between himself and Melissus, as to whether Being is finite or +infinite. Melissus was a younger adherent of the Eleatic School, whose +chief interest lies in his views on this question. His philosophical +position in general is the same as that of Parmenides. But on this +point they differed. Parmenides asserted that Being is globe-shaped, +and therefore finite. Now it was an essential part of the doctrine of +Parmenides that empty space is non-existent. Empty space is an +existent non-existence. This is self-contradictory, and for +Parmenides, therefore, empty space is simply not-being. There are, for +example, no interstices, or empty spaces between the particles of +matter. Being is "the full," that is, full space with no mixture of +empty space in it. Now Melissus agreed with Parmenides that there is +no such thing as empty space; and he pointed out, that if Being is +globe-shaped, it must be bounded on the outside by empty space. And as +this is impossible, it cannot be true that Being is globe-shaped, or +finite, but must, on the contrary, extend illimitably through space. +This makes it quite clear that Parmenides, Melissus, and the Eleatics +generally, did regard Being as, in some sense, material. + +[Footnote 5: _Early Greek Philosophy_, chap. iv. Sec. 89.] + +Now, however, let us turn to the other side of the picture. What +ground is there for regarding Parmenides as an idealist? In the first +place, we may say that his ultimate principle, Being, whatever he may +have thought of it, is not in fact material, but is essentially an +abstract thought, a concept. Being is not here, it is not there. It is +not in any place or time. It is not to be found by the senses. It is +to be found only in reason. {48} We form the idea of Being by the +process of abstraction. For example, we see this desk. Our entire +knowledge of the desk consists in our knowledge of its qualities. It +is square, brown, hard, odourless, etc. Now suppose we successively +strip off these qualities in thought--its colour, its size, its shape. +We shall ultimately be left with nothing at all except its mere being. +We can no longer say of it that it is hard, square, etc. We can only +say "it is." As Parmenides said, Being is not divisible, movable; it +is not here nor there, then nor now. It simply "is." This is the +Eleatic notion of Being, and it is a pure concept. It may be compared +to such an idea as "whiteness." We cannot see "whiteness." We see +white things, but not "whiteness" itself. What, then, is "whiteness"? +It is a concept, that is to say, not a particular thing, but a general +idea, which we form by abstraction, by considering the quality which +all white things have in common, and neglecting the qualities in which +they differ. Just so, if we consider the common character of all +objects in the universe, and neglect their differences, we shall find +that what they all have in common is simply "being." Being then is a +general idea, or concept. It is a thought, and not a thing. +Parmenides, therefore, actually placed the absolute reality of things +in an idea, in a thought, though he may have conceived it in a +material and sensuous way. Now the cardinal thesis of idealism is +precisely this, that the absolute reality, of which the world is a +manifestation, consists in thought, in concepts. Parmenides, on this +view, was an idealist. + +Moreover, Parmenides has clearly made the distinction between sense +and reason. True Being is not known to {49} the senses, but only to +reason, and this distinction is an essential feature of all idealism. +Materialism is precisely the view that reality is to be found in the +world of sense. But the proposition of Parmenides is the exact +opposite of this, namely, that reality is to be found only in reason. +Again, there begins to appear for the first time in Parmenides the +distinction between reality and appearance. Parmenides, of course, +would not have used these terms, which have been adopted in modern +times. But the thought which they express is unmistakably there. This +outward world, the world of sense, he proclaims to be illusion and +appearance. Reality is something which lies behind, and is invisible +to the senses. Now the very essence of materialism is that this +material world, this world of sense, is the real world. Idealism is +the doctrine that the sense-world is an appearance. How then can +Parmenides be called a materialist? + +How are we to reconcile these two conflicting views of Parmenides? I +think the truth is that these two contradictories lie side by side in +Parmenides unreconciled, and still mutually contradicting each other. +Parmenides himself did not see the contradiction. If we emphasize the +one side, then Parmenides was a materialist. If we emphasize the other +side, then he is to be interpreted as an idealist. In point of fact, +in the history of Greek philosophy, both these sides of Parmenides +were successively emphasized. He became the father both of materialism +and of idealism. His immediate successors, Empedocles and Democritus, +seized upon the materialistic aspect of his thought, and developed it. +The essential thought of Parmenides was that Being cannot arise from +not-being, and that Being neither {50} arises nor passes away. If we +apply this idea to matter we get what in modern times is called the +doctrine of the "indestructibility of matter." Matter has no beginning +and no end. The apparent arising and passing away of things is simply +the aggregation and separation of particles of matter which, in +themselves, are indestructible. This is precisely the position of +Democritus. And his doctrine, therefore, is a materialistic rendering +of the main thought of Parmenides that Being cannot arise from +not-being or pass into not-being. + +It was not till the time of Plato that the idealistic aspect of the +Parmenidean doctrine was developed. It was the genius of Plato which +seized upon the germs of idealism in Parmenides and developed them. +Plato was deeply influenced by Parmenides. His main doctrine was that +the reality of the world is to be found in thought, in concepts, in +what is called "the Idea." And he identified the Idea with the Being +of Parmenides. + +But still, it may be asked, which is the true view of Parmenides? +Which is the historical Parmenides? Was not Plato in interpreting him +idealistically reading his own thought into Parmenides? Are not we, if +we interpret him as an idealist, reading into him later ideas? In one +sense this is perfectly true. It is clear from what Parmenides himself +said that he regarded the ultimate reality of things as material. It +would be a complete mistake to attribute to him a fully developed and +consistent system of idealism. If you had told Parmenides that he was +an idealist, he would not have understood you. The distinction between +materialism and idealism was not then developed. If you had told him, +moreover, that Being is a concept, he would not have understood {51} +you, because the theory of concepts was not developed until the time +of Socrates and Plato. Now it is the function of historical criticism +to insist upon this, to see that later thought is not attributed to +Parmenides. But if this is the function of historical scholarship, it +is equally the function of philosophic insight to seize upon the germs +of a higher thought amid the confused thinking of Parmenides, to see +what he was groping for, to see clearly what he saw only vaguely and +dimly, to make explicit what in him was merely implicit, to exhibit +the true inwardness of his teaching, to separate what is valuable and +essential in it from what is worthless and accidental. And I say that +in this sense the true and essential meaning of Parmenides is his +idealism. I said in the first chapter that philosophy is the movement +from sensuous to non-sensuous thought. I said that it is only with the +utmost difficulty that this movement occurs. And I said that even the +greatest philosophers have sometimes failed herein. In Parmenides we +have the first example of this. He began by propounding the truth that +Being is the essential reality, and Being, as we saw, is a concept. +But Parmenides was a pioneer. He trod upon unbroken ground. He had not +behind him, as we have, a long line of idealistic thinkers to guide +him. So he could not maintain this first non-sensuous thought. He +could not resist the temptation to frame for himself a mental image, a +picture, of Being. Now all mental images and pictures are framed out +of materials supplied to us by the senses. Hence it comes about that +Parmenides pictured Being as a globe-shaped something occupying space. +But this is not the truth of Parmenides. This is simply his failure to +realise {52} and understand his own principle, and to think his own +thought. It is true that his immediate successors, Empedocles and +Democritus, seized upon this, and built their philosophies upon it. +But in doing so they were building upon the darkness of Parmenides, +upon his dimness of vision, upon his inability to grapple with his own +idea. It was Plato who built upon the light of Parmenides. + + + +Zeno + +The third and last important thinker of the Eleatic School is Zeno +who, like Parmenides, was a man of Elea. His birth is placed about 489 +B.C. He composed a prose treatise in which he developed his +philosophy. Zeno's contribution to Eleaticism is, in a sense, entirely +negative. He did not add anything positive to the teachings of +Parmenides. He supports Parmenides in the doctrine of Being. But it is +not the conclusions of Zeno that are novel, it is rather the reasons +which he gave for them. In attempting to support the Parmenidean +doctrine from a new point of view he developed certain ideas about the +ultimate character of space and time which have since been of the +utmost importance in philosophy. Parmenides had taught that the world +of sense is illusory and false. The essentials of that world are two-- +multiplicity and change. True Being is absolutely one; there is in it +no plurality or multiplicity. Being, moreover, is absolutely static +and unchangeable. There is in it no motion. Multiplicity and motion +are the two characteristics of the false world of sense. Against +multiplicity and motion, therefore, Zeno directed his {53} arguments, +and attempted indirectly to support the conclusions of Parmenides by +showing that multiplicity and motion are impossible. He attempted to +force multiplicity and motion to refute themselves by showing that, if +we assume them as real, contradictory propositions follow from that +assumption. Two propositions which contradict each other cannot both +be true. Therefore the assumptions from which both follow, namely, +multiplicity and motion, cannot be real things. + + + +_Zeno's arguments against multiplicity_. + +(1) If the many is, it must be both infinitely small and infinitely +large. The many must be infinitely small. For it is composed of units. +This is what we mean by saying that it is many. It is many parts or +units. These units must be indivisible. For if they are further +divisible, then they are not units. Since they are indivisible they +can have no magnitude, for that which has magnitude is divisible. The +many, therefore, is composed of units which have no magnitude. But if +none of the parts of the many have magnitude, the many as a whole has +none. Therefore, the many is infinitely small. But the many must also +be infinitely large. For the many has magnitude, and as such, is +divisible into parts. These parts still have magnitude, and are +therefore further divisible. However far we proceed with the division +the parts still have magnitude and are still divisible. Hence the many +is divisible _ad infinitum_. It must therefore be composed of an +infinite number of parts, each having magnitude. But the smallest +magnitude, multiplied by infinity, becomes an infinite magnitude. +Therefore the many is infinitely large. (2) The {54} many must be, in +number, both limited and unlimited. It must be limited because it is +just as many as it is, no more, no less. It is, therefore, a definite +number. But a definite number is a finite or limited number. But the +many must be also unlimited in number. For it is infinitely divisible, +or composed of an infinite number of parts. + + + +_Zeno's arguments against motion_. + +(1) In order to travel a distance, a body must first travel half the +distance. There remains half left for it still to travel. It must then +travel half the remaining distance. There is still a remainder. This +progress proceeds infinitely, but there is always a remainder +untravelled. Therefore, it is impossible for a body to travel from one +point to another. It can never arrive. (2) Achilles and the tortoise +run a race. If the tortoise is given a start, Achilles can never catch +it up. For, in the first place, he must run to the point from which +the tortoise started. When he gets there, the tortoise will have gone +to a point further on. Achilles must then run to that point, and finds +then that the tortoise has reached a third point. This will go on for +ever, the distance between them continually diminishing, but never +being wholly wiped out. Achilles will never catch up the tortoise. (3) +This is the story of the flying arrow. An object cannot be in two +places at the same time. Therefore, at any particular moment in its +flight the arrow is in one place and not in two. But to be in one +place is to be at rest. Therefore in each and every moment of its +flight it is at rest. It is thus at rest throughout. Motion is +impossible. + +{55} + +This type of argument is, in modern times, called "antinomy." An +antinomy is a proof that, since two contradictory propositions equally +follow from a given assumption, that assumption must be false. Zeno is +also called by Aristotle the inventor of dialectic. Dialectic +originally meant simply discussion, but it has come to be a technical +term in philosophy, and is used for that type of reasoning which seeks +to develop the truth by making the false refute and contradict itself. +The conception of dialectic is especially important in Zeno, Plato, +Kant, and Hegel. + +All the arguments which Zeno uses against multiplicity and motion are +in reality merely variations of one argument. That argument is as +follows. It applies equally to space, to time, or to anything which +can be quantitatively measured. For simplicity we will consider it +only in its spatial significance. Any quantity of space, say the space +enclosed within a circle, must either be composed of ultimate +indivisible units, or it must be divisible _ad infinitum_. If it is +composed of indivisible units, these must have magnitude, and we are +faced with the contradiction of a magnitude which cannot be divided. +If it is divisible _ad infinitum_, we are faced with the contradiction +of supposing that an infinite number of parts can be added up and make +a finite sum-total. It is thus a great mistake to suppose that Zeno's +stories of Achilles and the tortoise, and of the flying arrow, are +merely childish puzzles. On the contrary, Zeno was the first, by means +of these stories, to bring to light the essential contradictions which +lie in our ideas of space and time, and thus to set an important +problem for all subsequent philosophy. + +{56} + +All Zeno's arguments are based upon the one argument described above, +which may be called the antinomy of infinite divisibility. For +example, the story of the flying arrow. At any moment of its flight, +says Zeno, it must be in one place, because it cannot be in two places +at the same moment. This depends upon the view of time as being +infinitely divisible. It is only in an infinitesimal moment, an +absolute moment having no duration, that the arrow is at rest. This, +however, is not the only antinomy which we find in our conceptions of +space and time. Every mathematician is acquainted with the +contradictions immanent in our ideas of infinity. For example, the +familiar proposition that parallel straight lines meet at infinity, is +a contradiction. Again, a decreasing geometrical progression can be +added up to infinity, the infinite number of its terms adding up in +the sum-total to a finite number. The idea of infinite space itself is +a contradiction. You can say of it exactly what Zeno said of the many. +There must be in existence as much space as there is, no more. But +this means that there must be a definite and limited amount of space. +Therefore space is finite. On the other hand, it is impossible to +conceive a limit to space. Beyond the limit there must be more space. +Therefore space is infinite. Zeno himself gave expression to this +antinomy in the form of an argument which I have not so far mentioned. +He said that everything which exists is in space. Space itself exists, +therefore space must be in space. That space must be in another space +and so _ad infinitum_. This of course is merely a quaint way of saying +that to conceive a limit to space is impossible. + +But to return to the antinomy of infinite divisibility, {57} on which +most of Zeno's arguments rest, you will perhaps expect me to say +something of the different solutions which have been offered. In the +first place, we must not forget Zeno's own solution. He did not +propound this contradiction for its own sake, but to support the +thesis of Parmenides. His solution is that as multiplicity and motion +contain these contradictions, therefore multiplicity and motion cannot +be real. Therefore, there is, as Parmenides said, only one Being, with +no multiplicity in it, and excludent of all motion and becoming. The +solution given by Kant in modern times is essentially similar. +According to Kant, these contradictions are immanent in our +conceptions of space and time, and since time and space involve these +contradictions it follows that they are not real beings, but +appearances, mere phenomena. Space and time do not belong to things as +they are in themselves, but rather to our way of looking at things. +They are forms of our perception. It is our minds which impose space +and time upon objects, and not objects which impose space and time +upon our minds. Further, Kant drew from these contradictions the +conclusion that to comprehend the infinite is beyond the capacity of +human reason. He attempted to show that, wherever we try to think the +infinite, whether the infinitely large or the infinitely small, we +fall into irreconcilable contradictions. Therefore, he concluded that +human faculties are incapable of apprehending infinity. As might be +expected, many thinkers have attempted to solve the problem by denying +one or other side of the contradiction, by saying that one or other +side does not follow from the premises, that one is true and the other +false. David Hume, for example, {58} denied the infinite divisibility +of space and time, and declared that they are composed of indivisible +units having magnitude. But the difficulty that it is impossible to +conceive of units having magnitude which are yet indivisible is not +satisfactorily explained by Hume. And in general, it seems that any +solution which is to be satisfactory must somehow make room for both +sides of the contradiction. It will not do to deny one side or the +other, to say that one is false and the other true. A true solution is +only possible by rising above the level of the two antagonistic +principles and taking them both up to the level of a higher +conception, in which both opposites are reconciled. + +This was the procedure followed by Hegel in his solution of the +problem. Unfortunately his solution cannot be fully understood without +some knowledge of his general philosophical principles, on which it +wholly depends. I will, however, try to make it as plain as possible. +In the first place, Hegel did not go out of his way to solve these +antinomies. They appear as mere incidents in the development of his +thought. He did not regard them as isolated cases of contradiction +which occur in thought, as exceptions to a general rule, which +therefore need special explanation. On the contrary, he regarded them, +not as exceptions to, but as examples of, the essential character of +reason. All thought, all reason, for Hegel, contains immanent +contradictions which it first posits and then reconciles in a higher +unity, and this particular contradiction of infinite divisibility is +reconciled in the higher notion of quantity. The notion of quantity +contains two factors, namely the one and the many. Quantity means +precisely a many in {59} one, or a one in many. If, for example, we +consider a quantity of anything, say a heap of wheat, this is, in the +first place, one; it is one whole. Secondly, it is many; for it is +composed of many parts. As one it is continuous; as many it is +discrete. Now the true notion of quantity is not one, apart from many, +nor many apart from one. It is the synthesis of both. It is a many +_in_ one. The antinomy we are considering arises from considering one +side of the truth in a false abstraction from the other. To conceive +unity as not being in itself multiplicity, or multiplicity as not +being unity, is a false abstraction. The thought of the one involves +the thought of the many, and the thought of the many involves the +thought of the one. You cannot have a many without a one, any more +than you can have one end of a stick without the other. Now, if we +consider anything which is quantitatively measured, such as a straight +line, we may consider it, in the first place, as one. In that case it +is a continuous indivisible unit. Next we may regard it as many, in +which case it falls into parts. Now each of these parts may again be +regarded as one, and as such is an indivisible unit; and again each +part may be regarded as many, in which case it falls into further +parts; and this alternating process may go on for ever. This is the +view of the matter which gives rise to the contradictions we have been +considering. But it is a false view. It involves the false abstraction +of first regarding the many as something that has reality apart from +the one, and then regarding the one as something that has reality +apart from the many. If you persist in saying that the line is simply +one and not many, then there arises the theory of indivisible units. +If you {60} persist in saying it is simply many and not one, then it +is divisible _ad infinitum_. But the truth is that it is neither simply +many nor simply one; it is a many in one, that is, it is a _quantity_. +Both sides of the contradiction are, therefore, in one sense true, for +each is a factor of the truth. But both sides are also false, if and +in so far as, each sets itself up as the whole truth. + + + +Critical Remarks on Eleaticism. + +The consideration of the meaning of Zeno's doctrine will give us an +insight into the essentials of the position of the Eleatics. Zeno said +that motion and multiplicity are not real. Now what does this mean? +Did Zeno mean to say that when he walked about the streets of Elea, it +was not true that he walked about? Did he mean that it was not a fact +that he moved from place to place? When I move my arms, did he mean +that I am not moving my arms, but that they really remain at rest all +the time? If so, we might justly conclude that this philosophy is a +mere craze of speculation run mad, or else a joke. But this is not +what is meant. The Eleatic position is that though the world of sense, +of which multiplicity and motion are essential features, may exist, +yet that outward world is not the true Being. They do not deny that +the world exists. They do not deny that motion exists or that +multiplicity exists. These things no sane man can deny. The existence +of motion and multiplicity is, as Hegel says, as sensuously certain as +the existence of elephants. Zeno, then, does not deny the existence of +the world. What he denies is the truth of existence. What he means is: +certainly there is motion and multiplicity; certainly the world is +here, is present to our senses, but it is not the true world. It is +{61} not reality. It is mere appearance, illusion, an outward show and +sham, a hollow mask which hides the real being of things. You may ask +what is meant by this distinction between appearance and reality. Is +not even an appearance real? It appears. It exists. Even a delusion +exists, and is therefore a real thing. So is not the distinction +between appearance and reality itself meaningless? Now all this is +perfectly true, but it does not comprehend quite what is meant by the +distinction. What is meant is that the objects around us have +existence, but not self-existence, not self-substantiality. That is to +say, their being is not in themselves, their existence is not grounded +in themselves but is grounded in another, and flows from that other. +They exist, but they are not independent existences. They are rather +beings whose being flows into them from another, which itself is +self-existent and self-substantial. They are, therefore, mere +appearances of that other, which is the reality. Of course the +Eleatics did not speak of appearance and reality in these terms. But +this is what they were groping for, and dimly saw. + +If we now look back upon the road on which we have travelled from the +beginning of Greek philosophy, we shall be able to characterize the +direction in which we have been moving. The earliest Greek +philosophers, the Ionics, propounded the question, "what is the +ultimate principle of things?" and answered it by declaring that the +first principle of things is matter. The second Greek School, the +Pythagoreans, answered the same question by declaring numbers to be +the first principle. The third school, the Eleatics, answered the +question by asserting that the first principle of things is Being. +{62} Now the universe, as we know it, is both quantitative and +qualitative. Quantity and quality are characteristics of every +sense-object. These are not, indeed, the only characteristics of the +world, but they are the only characteristics which have so far come to +light. Now the position of the Ionics was that the ultimate reality is +both quantitative and qualitative, that is to say, it is matter, for +matter is just what has both quantity and quality. The Pythagoreans +abstracted from the quality of things. They stripped off the +qualitative aspect from things, and were accordingly left with only +quantity as ultimate reality. Quantity is the same as number. Hence +the Pythagorean position that the world is made of numbers. The +Eleatic philosophy, proceeding one step further in the same direction, +abstracted from quantity as well as quality. Whereas the Pythagoreans +had denied the qualitative aspect of things, leaving themselves only +with the quantitative, the Eleatics denied both quantity and quality, +for in denying multiplicity they denied quantity. Therefore they are +left with the total abstraction of mere Being which has in it neither +dividedness (quantity), nor positive character (quality). The rise +from the Ionic to the Eleatic philosophy is therefore essentially a +rise from sensuous to pure thinking. The Eleatic Being is a pure +abstract thought. The position of the Pythagoreans on the other hand +is that of semi-sensuous thought. They form the stepping-stone from +the Ionics to the Eleatics. + +Now let us consider what of worth there is in this Eleatic principle, +and what its defects are. In the first place, it is necessary for us +to understand that the Eleatic philosophy is the first monism. A +monistic philosophy {63} is a philosophy which attempts to explain the +entire universe from one single principle. The opposite of monism is +therefore pluralism, which is that kind of philosophy which seeks to +explain the universe from many ultimate and equally underived +principles. But more particularly and more frequently we speak of the +opposite of monism as being dualism, that is to say, the position that +there are two ultimate principles of explanation. If, for example, we +say that all the good in the universe arises from one source which is +good, and that all the evil arises from another source which is evil, +and that these sources of good and evil cannot be subordinated one to +the other, and that one does not arise out of the other, but both are +co-ordinate and equally primeval and independent, that position would +be a dualism. All philosophy, which is worthy of the name, seeks, in +some sense, a monistic explanation of the universe, and when we find +that a system of philosophy breaks down and fails, then we may nearly +always be sure its defect will reveal itself as an unreconciled +dualism. Such a philosophy will begin with a monistic principle, and +will attempt to derive or deduce the entire universe from it, but +somewhere or other it comes across something in the world which it +cannot bring under that principle. Then it is left with two equally +ultimate existences, neither of which can be derived from the other. +Thus it breaks out into dualism. + +Now the search for a monistic explanation of things is a universal +tendency of human thought. Wherever we look in the world of thought, +we find that this monistic tendency appears. I have already said that +it appears throughout the history of philosophy. It reveals itself, +{64} too, very clearly in the history of religion. Religion begins in +polytheism, the belief in many gods. From that it passes on to +monotheism, the belief in one God, who is the sole author and creator +of the universe. In Hindu thought we find the same thing. Hindu +thought is based upon the principle that "All is one." Everything in +the world is derived from one ultimate being, Brahman. But not only is +this monistic tendency traceable in religion and philosophy; it is +also traceable in science. The progress of scientific explanation is +essentially a progress towards monism. In the first place, the +explanation of isolated facts consists always in assigning causes for +them. Suppose there is a strange noise in your room at night. You say +it is explained when you find that it is due to the falling of a book +or the scuttling of a rat across the floor. The noise is thus +explained by assigning a cause for it. But this simply means that you +have robbed it of its isolated and exceptional position, and reduced +it to the position of an example of a general law. When the water +freezes in your jug, you say that the cause of this is the cold. It is +an example of the law that whenever the cold reaches a certain degree, +then, other things being equal, water solidifies. But to assign causes +in this way is not really to explain anything. It does not give any +reason for an event happening. You cannot see any reason why water +should solidify in the cold. It merely tells us that the event is not +exceptional, but is an example of what always happens. It reduces the +isolated event to a case of a general law, which "explains," not +merely this one event, but possibly millions of events. It is not +merely that cold solidifies the water in your jug. {65} It equally +solidifies the water in everybody's jug. The same law "explains" all +these, and likewise "explains" icebergs and the polar caps on the +earth and the planet Mars. In fact scientific explanation means the +reduction of millions of facts to one principle. But science does not +stop here. It seeks further to explain the laws themselves, and its +method is to reduce the many laws to one higher and more general law. +A familiar example of this is the explanation of Kepler's laws of the +planetary motions. Kepler laid down three such laws. The first was +that planets move in elliptical orbits with the sun in one focus. The +second was that planets describe equal areas in equal times. The third +was a rather more complicated law. Kepler knew these laws from +observation, but he could not explain them. They were explained by +Newton's discovery of the law of gravitation. Newton proved that +Kepler's three laws could be mathematically deduced from the law of +gravitation. In that way Kepler's laws were explained, and not only +Kepler's laws, but many other astronomical laws and facts. Thus the +explanation of the many isolated facts consists in their reduction to +the one law, and the explanation of the many laws consists in their +reduction to the one more general law. As knowledge advances, the +phenomena of the universe come to be explained by fewer and fewer, and +wider and wider, general principles. Obviously the ultimate goal would +be the explanation of all things by one principle. I do not mean to +say that scientific men have this end consciously in view. But the +point is that the monistic tendency is there. What is meant by the +explanation is the reduction of all things to one principle. + +{66} + +In philosophy, in religion, and in science, then, we find this +monistic tendency of thought. But it might be asked how we know that +this universal tendency is right? How do we know that it is not merely +a universal error? Is there no logical or philosophical basis for the +belief that the ultimate explanation of things must be one? Now this +is a subject which takes us far afield from Greek philosophy. The +philosophical basis of monism was never thought out till the time of +Spinoza. So we cannot go into it at length here. But, quite shortly, +the question is--Is there any reason for believing that the ultimate +explanation of things must be one? Now if we are to explain the +universe, two conditions must be fulfilled. In the first place, the +ultimate reality by which we attempt to explain everything must +explain all the other things in the world. It must be possible to +deduce the whole world from it. Secondly, the first principle must +explain itself. It cannot be a principle which itself still requires +explanation by something else. If it is itself not self-explanatory, +but is an ultimate mystery, then even if we succeed in deducing the +universe from it, nothing is thereby explained. This, for example, is +precisely the defect of materialism. Even if we suppose it proved that +all things, including mind, arise from matter, yet the objection +remains that this explains nothing at all, for matter is not a +self-explanatory existence. It is an unintelligible mystery. And to +reduce the universe to an ultimate mystery is not to explain it. +Again; some people think that the world is to be explained by what +they call a "first cause." But why should any cause be the first? Why +should we stop anywhere in the chain of causes? Every cause is {67} +necessarily the effect of a prior cause. The child, who is told that +God made the world, and who inquires who, in that case, made God, is +asking a highly sensible question. Or suppose, in tracing back the +chain of causes, we come upon one which we have reason to say is +really the first, is anything explained thereby? Still we are left +with an ultimate mystery. Whatever the principle of explanation is, it +cannot be a principle of this kind. It must be a principle which +explains itself, and does not lead to something further, such as +another cause. In other words, it must be a principle which has its +whole being in itself, which does not for its completeness refer us to +anything beyond itself. It must be something fully comprehended in +itself, without reference to anything outside it. That is to say, it +must be what we call self-determined or absolute. Now any absolute +principle must necessarily be one. Suppose that it were two. Suppose +you attempt to explain the world by two principles, X and Y, each of +which is ultimate, neither being derived from the other. Then what +relation does X bear to Y? We cannot fully comprehend X without +knowing its relation to Y. Part of the character and being of X is +constituted by its relation to Y. Part of X's character has to be +explained by Y. But that is not to be self-explained. It is to be +explained by something not itself. Therefore, the ultimate explanation +of things must be one. + +The Eleatics, then, were perfectly correct in saying that all is one, +and that the ultimate principle of the universe, Being, is one. But if +we examine the way in which they carried out their monism, we shall +see that it broke down in a hopeless dualism. How did they {68} +explain the existence of the world? They propounded the principle of +Being, as the ultimate reality. How then did they derive the actual +world from that principle? The answer is that they neither derived it +nor made any attempt to derive it. Instead of deducing the world from +their first principle, they simply denied the reality of the world +altogether. They attempted to solve the problem by denying the +existence of the problem. The world, they said, is simply not-being. +It is an illusion. Now certainly it is a great thing to know which is +the true world, and which the false, but after all this is not an +explanation. To call the world an illusion is not to explain it. If +the world is reality, then the problem of philosophy is, how does that +reality arise? If the world is illusion, then the problem is, how does +that illusion arise? Call it illusion, if you like. But this is not +explaining it. It is simply calling it names. This is the defect, too, +of Indian philosophy in which the world is said to be Maya--delusion. +Hence in the Eleatic philosophy there are two worlds brought face to +face, lying side by side of each other, unreconciled--the world of +Being, which is the true world, and the world of facts, which is +illusion. Although the Eleatics deny the sense-world, and call it +illusion, yet of this illusion they cannot rid themselves. In some +sense or other, this world is here, is present. It comes back upon our +senses, and demands explanation. Call it illusion, but it still stands +beside the true world, and demands that it be deduced from that. So +that the Eleatics have two principles, the false world and the true +world, simply lying side by side, without any connecting link between +them, without anything to {69} show how the one arises from the other. +It is an utterly irreconcilable dualism. + +It is easy to see why the Eleatic philosophy broke down in this +dualism. It is due to the barrenness of their first principle itself. +Being, they say, has in it no becoming. All principle of motion is +expressly excluded from it. Likewise they deny to it any multiplicity. +It is simply one, without any many in it. If you expressly exclude +multiplicity and becoming from your first principle, then you can +never get multiplicity and becoming out of it. You cannot get out of +it anything that is not in it. If you say absolutely there is no +multiplicity in the Absolute, then it is impossible to explain how +multiplicity comes into this world. It is exactly the same in regard +to the question of quality. Pure Being is without quality. It is mere +"isness." It is an utterly featureless, characterless Being, perfectly +empty and abstract. How then can the quality of things issue from it? +How can all the riches and variety of the world come out of this +emptiness? The Eleatics are like jugglers who try to make you believe +that they get rabbits, guinea-pigs, pieces of string, paper, and +ribbon, out of an entirely empty top-hat. One can see how utterly +barren and empty this principle is, if one translates it into +figurative language, that is to say, into the language of religion. +The Eleatic principle would correspond to a religion in which we said +that "God is," but beyond the fact that He "is," He has absolutely no +character. But surely this is a wholly barren and meagre conception of +the Deity. In the Christian religion we are accustomed to hear such +expressions as, not only that "God is," but that "God is Love," "God +is Power," {70} "God is Goodness," "God is Wisdom." Now objection may +certainly be taken to these predicates and epithets on the ground that +they are merely figurative and anthropomorphic. In fact, they exhibit +the tendency to think non-sensuous objects sensuously. These +predicates are merely picked up from the finite world and applied +haphazard to God, for whom they are entirely inadequate. But at least +these expressions teach us, that out of mere emptiness nothing can +come; that the world cannot arise out of something which is lower and +poorer than itself. Here in the world we find in a certain measure, +love, wisdom, excellence, power. These things cannot spring from a +source which is so poor that it contains nothing but "isness." The +less can arise out of the greater, but not the greater out of the +less. We may contrast Eleaticism not only with Christianity, but even +with popular modern agnosticism. According to this, the Absolute is +unknowable. But what the agnostic means is that human reason is +inadequate to grasp the greatness of the ultimate being. But the +Eleatic principle is, not that in saying "God is Love, Power, Wisdom," +we are saying too little about God, and that our ideas are inadequate +to express the fullness of His being, but on the contrary, that they +express too high an idea for God, of whom nothing can be said except +"He is," because there is absolutely nothing more to say. This +conception of God is the conception of an absolutely empty being. + +Monism, I said, is a necessary idea in philosophy. The Absolute must +be one. But an utterly abstract monism is impossible. If the Absolute +is simply one, wholly excludent of all process and multiplicity, out +of such an abstraction the process and multiplicity of the {71} world +cannot issue. The Absolute is not simply one, or simply many. It must +be a many in one, as correctly set forth in the Christian doctrine of +the Trinity. Religion moves from an abstract polytheism (God is many) +to an abstract monotheism (God is one; Judaism, Hinduism and Islam). +But it does not stop there. It rightly passes on to a concrete +monotheism (God is many in one; Christianity). There are two popular +misconceptions regarding the doctrine of the Trinity. The first +mistake is that of popular rationalism, the second is that of popular +theology. Popular rationalism asserts that the doctrine of the Trinity +is contrary to reason. Popular theology asserts that it is a mystery +which transcends reason. But the truth is that it neither contradicts +nor transcends reason. On the contrary, it is in itself the highest +manifestation of reason. What is really a mystery, what really +contradicts reason, is to suppose that God, the Absolute, is simply +one without any multiplicity. This contradiction results in the fatal +dualism which broke out in Eleaticism, and has broken out in every +other system of thought, such as that of the Hindus or that of +Spinoza, which begins with the conception of the Absolute as a pure +one, totally exclusive of the many. + +{72} + +CHAPTER V + +HERACLEITUS + +Heracleitus was born about 535 B.C., and is believed to have lived to +the age of sixty. This places his death at 475 B.C. He was thus +subsequent to Xenophanes, contemporary with Parmenides, and older than +Zeno. In historical order of time, therefore, he runs parallel to the +Eleatics. Heracleitus was a man of Ephesus in Asia Minor. He was an +aristocrat, descendant of a noble Ephesian family, and occupied in +Ephesus the nominal position of basileus, or King. This, however, +merely meant that he was the Chief Priest of the local branch of the +Eleusinian mysteries, and this position he resigned in favour of his +brother. He appears to have been a man of a somewhat aloof, solitary, +and scornful nature. He looked down, not only upon the common herd, +but even upon the great men of his own race. He mentions Xenophanes +and Pythagoras in terms of obloquy. Homer, he thinks, should be taken +out and whipped. Hesiod he considers to be the teacher of the common +herd, one with them, "a man," he says, "who does not even know day and +night." Upon the common herd of mortals he looks down with infinite +scorn. Some of his sayings remind us not a little of Schopenhauer in +their pungency and sharpness. "Asses prefer straw to {73} gold." "Dogs +bark at everyone they do not know." Many of his sayings, however, are +memorable and trenchant epitomes of practical wisdom. "Man's character +is his fate." "Physicians who cut, burn, stab and rack the sick, +demand a fee for doing it, which they do not deserve to get." From his +aloof and aristocratic standpoint he launched forth denunciations +against the democracy of Ephesus. + +Heracleitus embodied his philosophical thoughts in a prose treatise, +which was well-known at the time of Socrates, but of which only +fragments have come down to us. His style soon became proverbial for +its difficulty and obscurity, and he gained the nickname of +Heracleitus the "Dark," or the "Obscure." Socrates said of his work +that what he understood of it was excellent, what not, he believed was +equally so, but that the book required a tough swimmer. He has even +been accused of intentional obscurity. But there does not seem to be +any foundation for this charge. The fact is that if he takes no great +trouble to explain his thoughts, neither does he take any trouble to +conceal them. He does not write for fools. His attitude appears to be +that if his readers understand him, well; if not, so much the worse +for his readers. He wastes no time in elaborating and explaining his +thought, but embodies it in short, terse, pithy, and pregnant sayings. + + +His philosophical principle is the direct antithesis of Eleaticism. +The Eleatics had taught that only Being is, and Becoming is not at +all. All change, all Becoming is mere illusion. For Heracleitus, on +the contrary, only Becoming is, and Being, permanence, identity, these +are nothing but illusion. All things sublunary are {74} perpetually +changing, passing over into new forms and new shapes. Nothing stands, +nothing holds fast, nothing remains what it is. "Into the same river," +he says, "we go down, and we do not go down; for into the same river +no man can enter twice; ever it flows in and flows out." Not only does +he deny all absolute permanence, but even a relative permanence of +things is declared to be illusory. We all know that everything has its +term, that all things arise and pass away, from the insects who live +an hour to the "eternal" hills. Yet we commonly attribute to these +things at least a relative permanence, a shorter or longer continuance +in the same state. But even this Heracleitus will not allow. Nothing +is ever the same, nothing remains identical from one consecutive +moment to another. The appearance of relative permanence is an +illusion, like that which makes us think that a wave passing over the +surface of the water remains all the time the same identical wave. +Here, as we know, the water of which the wave is composed changes from +moment to moment, only the form remaining the same. Precisely so, for +Heracleitus, the permanent appearance of things results from the +inflow and outflow in them of equivalent quantities of substance. "All +is flux." It is not, for example, the same sun which sets to-day and +rises to-morrow. It is a new sun. For the fire of the sun burns itself +out and is replenished from the vapours of the sea. + +Not only do things change from moment to moment. Even in one and the +same moment they are and are not the same. It is not merely that a +thing first is, and then a moment afterwards, is not. It both is and +is not at the same time. The at-onceness of "is" and "is not" {75} is +the meaning of Becoming. We shall understand this better if we +contrast it with the Eleatic principle. The Eleatics described all +things under two concepts, Being and not-being. Being has, for them, +all truth, all reality. Not-being is wholly false and illusory. For +Heracleitus both Being and not-being are equally real. The one is as +true as the other. Both are true, for both are identical. Becoming is +the identity of Being and not-being. For Becoming has only two forms, +namely, the arising of things and their passing away, their beginning +and their end, their origination and their decease. Perhaps you may +think that this is not correct, that there are other forms of change +besides origination and decease. A man is born. That is his +origination. He dies. That is his decease. Between his birth and his +death there are intermediate changes. He grows larger, grows older, +grows wiser or more foolish, his hair turns grey. So also the leaf of +a tree does not merely come into being and pass out of being. It +changes in shape, form, colour. From light green it becomes dark +green, and from dark green, yellow. But there is after all nothing in +all this except origination and decease, not of the thing itself, but +of its qualities. The change from green to yellow is the decease of +green colour, the origination of yellow colour. Origination is the +passage of not-being into Being. Decease is the passage of Being into +not-being. Becoming, then, has in it only the two factors of Being and +not-being, and it means the passing of one into the other. But this +passage does not mean, for Heracleitus, that at one moment there is +Being, and at the next moment not-being. It means that Being and +not-being are in everything at one and the same time. Being is {76} +not-being. Being has not-being in it. Take as an example the problem +of life and death. Ordinarily we think that death is due to external +causes, such as accident or disease. We consider that while life +lasts, it is what it is, and remains what it is, namely life, unmixed +with death, and that it goes on being life until something comes from +outside, as it were, in the shape of external causes, and puts an end +to it. You may have read Metchnikoff's book "The Nature of Man." In +the course of that book he develops this idea. Death, he says, is +always due to external causes. Therefore, if we could remove the +causes, we could conquer death. The causes of death are mostly disease +and accident, for even old age is disease. There is no reason why +science should not advance so far as to eliminate disease and accident +from life. In that case life might be made immortal, or at any rate, +indefinitely prolonged. Now this is founded upon a confusion of ideas. +No doubt death is always due to external causes. Every event in the +world is determined, and wholly determined, by causes. The law of +causation admits of no exception whatever. Therefore it is perfectly +true that in every case of death causes precede it. But, as I +explained in the last chapter, [Footnote 6] to give the cause is not +to give any reason for an event. Causation is never a principle of +explanation of anything. It tells us that the phenomenon A is +invariably and unconditionally followed by the phenomenon B, and we +call A the cause of B. But this only means that whenever B happens, it +happens in a certain regular order and succession of events. But it +does not tell us why B happens at all. The reason of a thing is to be +{77} distinguished from its cause. The reason why a man dies is not to +be found in the causes which bring about his death. The reason rather +is that life has the germ of death already in it, that life is already +death potentially, that Being has not-being in it. The causation of +death is merely the mechanism, by the instrumentality of which, +through one set of causes or another, the inevitable end is brought +about. + +[Footnote 6: Page 64.] + +Not only is Being, for Heracleitus, identical with not-being, but +everything in the universe has in it its own opposite. Every existent +thing is a "harmony of opposite tensions." A harmony contains +necessarily two opposite principles which, in spite of their +opposition, reveal an underlying unity. That it is by virtue of this +principle that everything in the universe exists, is the teaching of +Heracleitus. All things contain their own opposites within them. In +the struggle and antagonism between hostile principles consists their +life, their being, their very existence. At the heart of things is +conflict. If there were no conflict in a thing, it would cease to +exist. This idea is expressed by Heracleitus in a variety of ways. +"Strife," he says, "is the father of all things." "The one, sundering +from itself, coalesces with itself, like the harmony of the bow and +the lyre." "God is day and night, summer and winter, war and peace, +satiety and hunger." "Join together whole and unwhole, congruous and +incongruous, accordant and discordant, then comes from one all and +from all one." In this sense, too, he censures Homer for having prayed +that strife might cease from among gods and men. If such a prayer were +granted, the universe itself would pass away. + +{78} + +Side by side with this metaphysic, Heracleitus lays down a theory of +physics. All things are composed of fire. "This world," he says, +"neither one of the gods nor of the human race has made; but it is, it +was, and ever shall be, an eternally living fire." All comes from +fire, and to fire all returns. "All things are exchanged for fire and +fire for all, as wares for gold and gold for wares." Thus there is +only one ultimate kind of matter, fire, and all other forms of matter +are merely modifications and variations of fire. It is clear for what +reason Heracleitus enunciated this principle. It is an exact physical +parallel to the metaphysical principle of Becoming. Fire is the most +mutable of the elements. It does not remain the same from one moment +to another. It is continually taking up matter in the form of fuel, +and giving off equivalent matter in the form of smoke and vapour. The +primal fire, according to Heracleitus, transmutes itself into air, air +into water, and water into earth. This he calls "the downward path." +To it corresponds "the upward path," the transmutation of earth into +water, water to air, and air to fire. All transformation takes place +in this regular order, and therefore, says Heracleitus, "the upward +and the downward path are one." + +Fire is further specially identified with life and reason. It is the +rational element in things. The more fire there is, the more life, the +more movement. The more dark and heavy materials there are, the more +death, cold, and not-being. The soul, accordingly, is fire, and like +all other fires it continually burns itself out and needs +replenishment. This it obtains, through the senses and the breath, +from the common life and reason of the {79} world, that is, from the +surrounding and all-pervading fire. In this we live and move and have +our being. No man has a separate soul of his own. It is merely part of +the one universal soul-fire. Hence if communication with this is cut +off, man becomes irrational and finally dies. Sleep is the half-way +house to death. In sleep the passages of the senses are stopped up, +and the outer fire reaches us only through breath. Hence in sleep we +become irrational and senseless, turning aside from the common life of +the world, each to a private world of his own. Heracleitus taught also +the doctrine of periodic world-cycles. The world forms itself out of +fire, and by conflagration passes back to the primitive fire. + +In his religious opinions Heracleitus was sceptical. But he does not, +like Xenophanes, direct his attacks against the central ideas of +religion, and the doctrine of the gods. He attacks mostly the outward +observances and forms in which the religious spirit manifests itself. +He inveighs against the worship of images, and urges the uselessness +of blood sacrifice. + +With the Eleatics he distinguishes between sense and reason, and +places truth in rational cognition. The illusion of permanence he +ascribes to the senses. It is by reason that we rise to the knowledge +of the law of Becoming. In the comprehension of this law lies the duty +of man, and the only road to happiness. Understanding this, man +becomes resigned and contented. He sees that evil is the necessary +counterpart of good, and pain the necessary counterpart of pleasure, +and that both together are necessary to form the harmony of the world. +Good and evil are principles on the struggle {80} between which the +very existence of things depends. Evil, too, is necessary, has its +place in the world. To see this is to put oneself above pitiful and +futile struggles against the supreme law of the universe. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +EMPEDOCLES + +Empedocles was a man of Agrigentum in Sicily. The dates of his birth +and death are placed about 495 and 435 B.C. respectively. Like +Pythagoras, he possessed a powerful and magnetic personality. Hence +all kinds of legends quickly grew up and wove themselves round his +life and death. He was credited with the performance of miracles, and +romantic stories were circulated about his death. A man of much +persuasive eloquence he raised himself to the leadership of the +Agrigentine democracy, until he was driven out into exile. + +The philosophy of Empedocles is eclectic in character. Greek +philosophy had now developed a variety of conflicting principles, and +the task of Empedocles is to reconcile these, and to weld them +together in a new system, containing however no new thought of its +own. In speaking of Parmenides, I pointed out that his teaching may be +interpreted either in an idealistic or a materialistic sense, and that +these two aspects of thought lie side by side in Parmenides, and that +it is possible to emphasize either the one or the other. Empedocles +seizes upon the materialistic side. The essential thought of +Parmenides was that Being cannot pass into not-being, nor not-being +into Being. Whatever is, remains for ever what it is. {82} If we take +that in a purely material context, what it means is that matter has +neither beginning nor end, is uncreated and indestructible. And this +is the first basic principle of Empedocles. On the other hand, +Heracleitus had shown that becoming and change cannot be denied. This +is the second basic principle of Empedocles. That there is no absolute +becoming, no creation, and utter destruction of things, and yet that +things do somehow arise and pass away, this must be explained, these +contradictory ideas must be reconciled. Now if we assert that matter +is uncreated and indestructible, and yet that things arise and pass +away, there is only one way of explaining this. We must suppose that +objects, as wholes begin and cease to be, but that the material +particles of which they are composed are uncreated and indestructible. +This thought now forms the first principle of Empedocles, and of his +successors, Anaxagoras, and the Atomists. + +Now the Ionic philosophers had taught that all things are composed of +some one ultimate matter. Thales believed it to be water, Anaximenes +air. This necessarily involved that the ultimate kind of matter must +be capable of transformation into other kinds of matter. If it is +water, then water must be capable of turning into brass, wood, iron, +air, or whatever other kind of matter exists. And the same thing +applies to the air of Anaximenes. Parmenides, however, had taught that +whatever is, remains always the same, no change or transformation +being possible. Empedocles here too follows Parmenides, and interprets +his doctrine in his own way. One kind of matter, he thinks, can never +change into another kind of matter; fire never becomes {83} water, nor +does earth ever become air. This leads Empedocles at once to a +doctrine of elements. The word "elements," indeed, is of later +invention, and Empedocles speaks of the elements as "the roots of +all." There are four elements, earth, air, fire, and water. Empedocles +was therefore the originator of the familiar classification of the +four elements. All other kinds of matter are to be explained as +mixtures, in various proportions, of these four. Thus all origination +and decease, as well as the differential qualities of certain kinds of +matter, are now explained by the mixing and unmixing of the four +elements. All becoming is simply composition and decomposition. + +But the coming together and separation of the elements involves the +movement of particles, and to explain this there must exist some +moving force. The Ionic philosophers had assumed that matter has the +power or force required for movement immanent in itself. The air of +Anaximenes, of its own inherent power, transforms itself into other +kinds of matter. This doctrine Empedocles rejects. Matter is for him +absolutely dead and lifeless, without any principle of motion in +itself. There is, therefore, only one remaining possibility. Forces +acting upon matter from the outside must be assumed. And as the two +essential processes of the world, mixing and unmixing, are opposite in +character, so there must be two opposite forces. These he calls by the +names Love and Hate, or Harmony and Discord. Though these terms may +have an idealistic sound, Empedocles conceives them as entirely +physical and material forces. But he identifies the attractions and +repulsions of human beings, which we call love and hate, with the +universally operating forces of the material world. Human love and +{84} hate are but the manifestations in us of the mechanical forces of +attraction and repulsion at work in the world at large. + +Empedocles taught the doctrine of periodic world-cycles. The +world-process is, therefore, properly speaking, circular, and has +neither beginning nor end. But in describing this process one must +begin somewhere. We will begin, then, with the sphairos (sphere). In +the primeval sphere the four elements are completely mixed, and +interpenetrate each other completely. Water is not separated off from +air, nor air from earth. All are chaotically mixed together. In any +portion of the sphere there must be an equal quantity of earth, air, +fire and water. The elements are thus in union, and the sole force +operative within the sphere is Love or Harmony. Hence the sphere is +called a "blessed god." Hate, however, exists all round the outside of +the sphere. Hate gradually penetrates from the circumference towards +the centre and introduces the process of separation and disunion of +the elements. This process continues till, like coming together with +like, the elements are wholly separated. All the water is together; +all the fire is together, and so on. When this process of +disintegration is complete, Hate is supreme and Love is entirely +driven out. But Love again begins to penetrate matter, to cause union +and mixture of the elements, and finally brings the world back to the +state of the original sphere. Then the same process begins again. At +what position in this circular movement is our present world to be +placed? The answer is that it is neither in the complete union of the +sphere, nor is it completely disintegrated. It is half-way between the +sphere and the stage of total {85} disintegration. It is proceeding +from the former towards the later, and Hate is gradually gaining the +upper hand. In the formation of the present world from the sphere the +first element to be separated off was air, next fire, then the earth. +Water is squeezed out of the earth by the rapidity of its rotation. +The sky is composed of two halves. One is of fire, and this is the +day. The other is dark matter with masses of fire scattered about in +it, and this is the night. + +Empedocles believed in the transmigration of souls. He also put +forward a theory of sense-perception, the essential of which is that +like perceives like. The fire in us perceives external fire, and so +with the other elements. Sight is caused by effluences of the fire and +water of the eyes meeting similar effluences from external objects. + +{86} + +CHAPTER VII + +THE ATOMISTS + +The founder of the Atomist philosophy was Leucippus. Practically +nothing is known of his life. The date of his birth, the date of his +death, and his place of residence, are alike unknown, but it is +believed that he was a contemporary of Empedocles and Anaxagoras. +Democritus was a citizen of Abdera in Thrace. He was a man of the +widest learning, as learning was understood in his day. A passion for +knowledge and the possession of adequate means for the purpose, +determined him to undertake extensive travels in order to acquire the +wisdom and knowledge of other nations. He travelled largely in Egypt, +also probably in Babylonia. The date of his death is unknown, but he +certainly lived to a great age, estimated at from ninety to one +hundred years. Exactly what were the respective contributions of +Leucippus and Democritus to the Atomist philosophy, is also a matter +of doubt. But it is believed that all the essentials of this +philosophy were the work of Leucippus, and that Democritus applied and +extended them, worked out details, and made the theory famous. + +Now we saw that the philosophy of Empedocles was based upon an attempt +to reconcile the doctrine of Parmenides with the doctrine of +Heracleitus. The {87} fundamental thought of Empedocles was that there +is no absolute becoming in the strict sense, no passage of Being into +not-being or not-being into Being. Yet the objects of the senses do, +in some way, arise and pass away, and the only method by which this is +capable of explanation is to suppose that objects, as whole objects, +come to be and cease to be, but that the material particles of which +they are composed are eternally existent. But the detailed development +which Empedocles gave to this principle was by no means satisfactory. +In the first place, if we hold that all objects are composed of parts, +and that all becoming is due to the mixing and unmixing of +pre-existent matter, we must have a theory of particles. And we do +hear vaguely of physical particles in the doctrine of Empedocles, but +no definition is given of their nature, and no clear conception is +formed of their character. Secondly, the moving forces of Empedocles, +Love and Hate, are fanciful and mythological. Lastly, though there are +in Empedocles traces of the doctrine that the qualities of things +depend on the position and arrangement of their particles, this idea +is not consistently developed. For Empedocles there are only four +ultimate kinds of matter, qualitatively distinguished. The +differential qualities of all other kinds of matter must, therefore, +be due to the mixing of these four elements. Thus the qualities of the +four elements are ultimate and underived, but all other qualities must +be founded upon the position and arrangement of particles of the four +elements. This is the beginning of the mechanical explanation of +quality. But to develop this theory fully and consistently, it should +be shown, not merely that some qualities are ultimate and some {88} +derived from position and arrangement of particles, but that all +quality whatever is founded upon position and arrangement. All +becoming is explained by Empedocles as the result of motion of +material particles. To bring this mechanical philosophy to its logical +conclusion, all qualitativeness of things must be explained in the +same way. Hence it was impossible that the philosophy of mechanism and +materialism should stand still in the position in which Empedocles +left it. It had to advance to the position of Atomism. The Atomists, +therefore, maintain the essential position of Empedocles, after +eliminating the inconsistencies which we have just noted. The +philosophy of Empedocles is therefore to be considered as merely +transitional in character. + +First, the Atomists developed the theory of particles. According to +Leucippus and Democritus, if matter were divided far enough, we should +ultimately come to indivisible units. These indivisible units are +called atoms, and atoms are therefore the ultimate constituents of +matter. They are infinite in number, and are too small to be +perceptible to the senses. Empedocles had assumed four different kinds +of matter. But, for the Atomists, there is only one kind. All the +atoms are composed of exactly the same kind of matter. With certain +exceptions, which I will mention in a moment, they possess no quality. +They are entirely non-qualitative, the only differences between them +being differences of quantity. They differ in size, some being larger, +some smaller. And they likewise differ in shape. Since the ultimate +particles of things thus possess no quality, all the actual qualities +of objects must be due to the {89} arrangement and position of the +atoms. This is the logical development of the tentative mechanism of +Empedocles. + +I said that the atoms possess no qualities. They must, however, be +admitted to possess the quality of solidity, or impenetrability, since +they are defined as being indivisible. Moreover it is a question +whether the atoms of Democritus and Leucippus were thought to possess +weight, or whether the weight of objects is to be explained, like +other qualities, by the position and movement of the atoms. There is +no doubt that the Epicureans of a later date considered the atoms to +have weight. The Epicureans took over the atomism of Democritus and +Leucippus, with few modifications, and made it the basis of their own +teaching. They ascribed weight to the atoms, and the only question is +whether this was a modification introduced by them, or whether it was +part of the original doctrine of Democritus and Leucippus. + +The atoms are bounded, and separated off from each other. Therefore, +they must be separated by something, and this something can only be +empty space. Moreover, since all becoming and all qualitativeness of +things are to be explained by the mixing and unmixing of atoms, and +since this involves movement of the atoms, for this reason also empty +space must be assumed to exist, for nothing can move unless it has +empty space to move in. Hence there are two ultimate realities, atoms +and empty space. These correspond respectively to the Being and +not-being of the Eleatics. But whereas the latter denied any reality +to not-being, the Atomists affirm that not-being, that is, empty +space, is just as real as being. Not-being also exists. "Being," said +{90} Democritus, "is by nothing more real than nothing." The atoms +being non-qualitative, they differ in no respect from empty space, +except that they are "full." Hence atoms and the void are also called +the _plenum_ and the _vacuum_. + +How, now, is the movement of the atoms brought about? Since all +becoming is due to the separation and aggregation of atoms, a moving +force is required. What is this moving force? This depends upon the +question whether atoms have weight. If we assume that they have +weight, then the origin of the world, and the motion of atoms, becomes +clear. In the system of the Epicureans the original movement of the +atoms is due to their weight, which causes them to fall perpetually +downwards through infinite space. Of course the Atomists had no true +ideas of gravitation, nor did they understand that there is no +absolute up and down. The large atoms are heavier than the smaller. +The matter of which they are composed is always the same. Therefore, +volume for volume, they weigh the same. Their weight is thus +proportional to their size, and if one atom is twice as large as +another, it will also be twice as heavy. Here the Atomists made +another mistake, in supposing that heavier things fall in a vacuum +more quickly than light things. They fall, as a matter of fact, with +the same speed. But according to the Atomists, the heavier atoms, +falling faster, strike against the lighter, and push them to one side +and upwards. Through this general concussion of atoms a vortex is +formed, in which like atoms come together with like. From the +aggregation of atoms worlds are created. As space is infinite and the +atoms go on falling eternally, there must have been innumerable worlds +of which our world is only one. {91} When the aggregated atoms fall +apart again, this particular world will cease to exist. But all this +depends upon the theory that the atoms have weight. According to +Professor Burnet, however, the weight of atoms is a later addition of +the Epicureans. If that is so, it is very difficult to say how the +early Atomists, Leucippus and Democritus, explained the original +motion. What was their moving force, if it was not weight? If the +atoms have no weight, their original movement cannot have been a fall. +"It is safest to say," says Professor Burnet, "that it is simply a +confused motion this way and that." [Footnote 7] Probably this is a +very _safe_ thing to say, because it means nothing in particular. Motion +itself cannot be confused. It is only our ideas of motion which can be +confused. If this theory is correct, then, we can only say that the +Atomists had no definite solution of the problem of the origin of +motion and the character of the moving force. They apparently saw no +necessity for explanation, which seems unlikely in view of the fact +that Empedocles had already seen the necessity of solving the problem, +and given a definite, if unsatisfactory, solution, in his theory of +Love and Hate. This remark would apply to Democritus, if not to +Leucippus. + +[Footnote 7: _Early Greek Philosophy_, chap. ix. Sec. 179.] + +The Atomists also spoke of all movement being under the force of +"necessity." Anaxagoras was at this time teaching that all motion of +things is produced by a world-intelligence, or reason. Democritus +expressly opposes to this the doctrine of necessity. There is no +reason or intelligence in the world. On the contrary, all phenomena +and all becoming are completely determined by blind mechanical causes. +In this connection there arises {92} among the Atomists a polemic +against the popular gods and the popular religion. Belief in gods +Democritus explains as being due to fear of great terrestrial and +astronomical phenomena, such as volcanoes, earthquakes, comets, and +meteors. But somewhat inconsistently with this, Democritus believed +that the air is inhabited by beings resembling men, but larger and of +longer life, and explained belief in the gods as being due to +projection from these of images of themselves composed of atoms which +impinge upon human senses, and produce the ideas of gods. + +Different kinds of matter must be explained, in any atomic theory, by +the shape, size, and position of the atoms of which they are composed. +Thus the Atomists taught that fire is composed of smooth round atoms. +The soul is also composed of smooth round atoms, and is an +exceptionally pure and refined fire. At death the soul atoms are +scattered, and hence there is, of course, no question of a future +life. Democritus also put forward a theory of perception, according to +which objects project into space images of themselves composed of +atoms. These images strike against the senses. Like atoms are +perceived by like. Thought is true when the soul is equable in +temperature. The sensible qualities of things, such as smell, taste, +colour, do not exist in the things themselves, but merely express the +manner in which they affect our senses, and are therefore relative to +us. A number of the ethical maxims of Democritus have come down to us. +But they are not based in any way upon the Atomic theory, and cannot +be deduced from it. Hence they have no scientific foundation but are +merely detached sayings, epitomizing the experience {93} and worldly +wisdom of Democritus. That one should enjoy oneself as much and vex +oneself as little as possible seems to have been his principal idea. +This, however, is not to be interpreted in any low, degraded, or +sensual way. On the contrary, Democritus says that the happiness of +man does not depend on material possessions, but upon the state of the +soul. He praises equanimity and cheerfulness, and these are best +attained, he thinks, by moderation and simplicity. + + + +{94} + +CHAPTER VIII + +ANAXAGORAS + +Anaxagoras was born at Clazomenae in Asia Minor about 500 B.C. He was +a man of noble family, and possessed considerable property. He +neglected his property in the search for knowledge and in the pursuit +of science and philosophy. Leaving his home at Clazomenae, he settled +down in Athens. We have not heard so far anything of Athens in the +history of Greek Philosophy. It was Anaxagoras who transplanted +philosophy to Athens, which from his time forward became the chief +centre of Greek thought. At Athens, Anaxagoras came into contact with +all the famous men of the time. He was an intimate friend of Pericles, +the statesman, and of Euripides, the poet. But his friendship with +Pericles cost him dear. There was a strong political faction opposed +to Pericles. So far as we know Anaxagoras never meddled in politics, +but he was a friend of the statesman Pericles, and that was quite +enough. The enemies of Pericles determined to teach Anaxagoras a +lesson, and a charge of atheism and blasphemy was accordingly brought +against him. The particulars of the charge were that Anaxagoras said +that the sun was a red-hot stone, and that the moon was made of earth. +This was quite true, as that is exactly what Anaxagoras did say of the +sun and the moon. But the Greeks {95} regarded the heavenly bodies as +gods; even Plato and Aristotle thought that the stars were divine +beings. To call the sun a red-hot stone, and to say that the moon was +made of earth, was therefore blasphemy according to Greek ideas. +Anaxagoras was charged, tried, and condemned. The details of the +trial, and of what followed, are not known with accuracy. But it +appears that Anaxagoras escaped, probably with the help of Pericles, +and from Athens went back to his native country in Asia Minor. He +settled at Lampsacus, and died there at the age of 72. He was the +author of a treatise in which he wrote down his philosophical ideas. +This treatise was well-known at the time of Socrates, but only +fragments now remain. + +The foundation of the philosophy of Anaxagoras is the same as that of +Empedocles and the Atomists. He denied any absolute becoming in the +strict sense of the passing of being into not-being and not-being into +being. Matter is uncreated and indestructible, and all becoming must +be accounted for by the mixing and unmixing of its component parts. +This principle Anaxagoras himself expressed with great clearness, in a +fragment of his treatise which has come down to us. "The Greeks," he +says, "erroneously assume origination and destruction, for nothing +originates and nothing is destroyed. All is only mixed and unmixed out +of pre-existent things, and it were more correct to call the one +process composition and the other process decomposition." + +The Atomists had assumed the ultimate constituents of things to be +atoms composed of the same kind of matter. Empedocles had believed in +four ultimate and underived kinds of matter. With neither of these +does Anaxagoras agree. For him, all the different kinds of {96} matter +are equally ultimate and underived, that is to say, such things as +gold, bone, hair, earth, water, wood, etc., are ultimate kinds of +matter, which do not arise from anything else, and do not pass over +into one another. He also disagrees with the conception of the +Atomists that if matter is divided far enough, ultimate and +indivisible particles will be reached. According to Anaxagoras matter +is infinitely divisible. In the beginning all these kinds of matter +were mixed together in a chaotic mass. The mass stretches infinitely +throughout space. The different kinds of matter wholly intermingle and +interpenetrate each other. The process of world-formation is brought +about by the unmixing of the conglomeration of all kinds of matter, +and the bringing together of like matter with like. Thus the gold +particles separating out of the mass come together, and form gold; the +wood particles come together and form wood, and so on. But as matter +is infinitely divisible and the original mixing of the elements was +complete, they were, so to speak, mixed to an infinite extent. +Therefore the process of unmixing would take infinite time, is now +going on, and will always go on. Even in the purest element there is +still a certain admixture of particles of other kinds of matter. There +is no such thing as pure gold. Gold is merely matter in which the gold +particles predominate. + +As with Empedocles and the Atomists, a moving force is required to +explain the world-process of unmixing. What, in the philosophy of +Anaxagoras, is this force? Now up to the present point the philosophy +of Anaxagoras does not rise above the previous philosophies of +Empedocles and the Atomists. On the contrary, in clearness {97} and +logical consistency, it falls considerably below the teaching of the +latter. But it is just here, on the question of the moving force, that +Anaxagoras becomes for the first time wholly original, and introduces +a principle peculiar to himself, a principle, moreover, which is +entirely new in philosophy. Empedocles had taken as his moving forces, +Love and Hate, mythical and fanciful on the one hand, and yet purely +physical on the other. The forces of the Atomists were also completely +material. But Anaxagoras conceives the moving force as wholly +non-physical and incorporeal. It is called Nous, that is, mind or +intelligence. It is intelligence which produces the movement in things +which brings about the formation of the world. What was it, now, which +led Anaxagoras to the doctrine of a world-governing intelligence? It +seems that he was struck with the apparent design, order, beauty and +harmony of the universe. These things, he thought, could not be +accounted for by blind forces. The world is apparently a rationally +governed world. It moves towards definite ends. Nature shows plentiful +examples of the adaptation of means to ends. There appears to be plan +and purpose in the world. The Atomists had assumed nothing but matter +and physical force. How can design, order, harmony and beauty be +brought about by blind forces acting upon chaotic matter? Blind forces +acting upon a chaos would produce motion and change. But the change +would be meaningless and purposeless. They could not produce a +rationally ordered cosmos. One chaos would succeed another chaos ad +infinitum. That alone which can produce law and order is intelligence. +There must therefore be a world-controlling Nous. + +{98} + +What is the character of the Nous, according to Anaxagoras? Is it, in +the first place, really conceived as purely non-material and +incorporeal? Aristotle, who was in a position to know more of the +matter than any modern scholar, clearly implies in his criticism that +the Nous of Anaxagoras is an incorporeal principle, and he has been +followed in this by the majority of the best modern writers, such as +Zeller and Erdmann. But the opposite view has been maintained, by +Grote, for example, and more recently by Professor Burnet, who thinks +that Anaxagoras conceived the Nous as a material and physical force. +[Footnote 8] As the matter is of fundamental importance, I will +mention the chief arguments upon which Professor Burnet rests his +case. In the first place Anaxagoras described the Nous as the +"thinnest and purest of all things." He also said that it was +"unmixed," that it had in it no mixture of anything besides itself. +Professor Burnet argues that such words as "thin" and "unmixed" would +be meaningless in connection with an incorporeal principle. Only +material things can properly be described as thin, pure, and unmixed. +Secondly, Professor Burnet thinks that it is quite certain that the +Nous occupies space, for Anaxagoras speaks of greater and smaller +portions of it. Greater and smaller are spatial relations. Hence the +Nous occupies space, and that which occupies space is material. But +surely these are very inconclusive arguments. In the first place as +regards the use of the words "thin" and "unmixed." It is true that +these terms express primarily physical qualities. But, as I pointed +out in {99} the first chapter, almost all words by which we seek to +express incorporeal ideas have originally a physical signification. +And if Anaxagoras is to be called a materialist because he described +the Nous as thin, then we must also plead guilty to materialism if we +say that the thought of Plato is "luminous," or that the mind of +Aristotle is "clear." The fact is that all philosophy labours under +the difficulty of having to express non-sensuous thought in language +which has been evolved for the purpose of expressing sensuous ideas. +There is no philosophy in the world, even up to the present day, in +which expressions could not be found in plenty which are based upon +the use of physical analogies to express entirely non-physical ideas. +Then as regards the Nous occupying space, it is not true that greater +and smaller are necessarily spatial relations. They are also +qualitative relations of degree. I say that the mind of Plato is +greater than the mind of Callias. Am I to be called a materialist? Am +I to be supposed to mean that Plato's mind occupies more space than +that of Callias? And it is certainly in this way that Anaxagoras uses +the terms. "All Nous," he says, "is alike, both the greater and the +smaller." He means thereby that the world-forming mind (the greater) +is identical in character with the mind of man (the smaller). For +Anaxagoras it is the one Nous which animates all living beings, men, +animals, and even plants. These different orders of beings are +animated by the same Nous but in different degrees, that of man being +the greatest. But this does not mean that the Nous in man occupies +more space than the Nous in a plant. But even if Anaxagoras did +conceive the Nous as spatial, it does not follow that he {100} +regarded it as material. The doctrine of the non-spatiality of mind is +a modern doctrine, never fully developed till the time of Descartes. +And to say that Anaxagoras did not realize that mind is non-spatial is +merely to say that he lived before the time of Descartes. No doubt it +would follow from this that the incorporeality of mind is vaguely and +indistinctly conceived by Anaxagoras, that the antithesis between +matter and mind is not so sharply drawn by him as it is by us. But +still the antithesis is conceived, and therefore it is correct to say +that the Nous of Anaxagoras is an incorporeal principle. The whole +point of this introduction of the Nous into the philosophy of +Anaxagoras is because he could not explain the design and order of the +universe on a purely physical basis. + +[Footnote 8: _Early Greek Philosophy_, chap. vi. Sec. 132.] + +The next characteristic of Nous is that it is to be thought of as +essentially the ground of motion. It is because he cannot in any other +way explain purposive motion that Anaxagoras introduces mind into his +otherwise materialistic system. Mind plays the part of the moving +force which explains the world-process of unmixing. As the ground of +motion, the Nous is itself unmoved; for if there were any motion in it +we should have to seek for the ground of this motion in something else +outside it. That which is the cause of all motion, cannot itself be +moved. Next, the Nous is absolutely pure and unmixed with anything +else. It exists apart, by itself, wholly in itself, and for itself. In +contrast to matter, it is uncompounded and simple. It is this which +gives it omnipotence, complete power over everything, because there is +no mixture of matter in it to limit it, to clog and hinder its +activities. We moderns are {101} inclined to ask the question whether +the Nous is personal. Is it, for example, a personal being like the +God of the Christians? This is a question which it is almost +impossible to answer. Anaxagoras certainly never considered it. +According to Zeller, the Greeks had an imperfect and undeveloped +conception of personality. Even in Plato we find the same difficulty. +The antithesis between God as a personal and as an impersonal being, +is a wholly modern idea. No Greek ever discussed it. + +To come now to the question of the activity of the Nous and its +function in the philosophy of Anaxagoras, we must note that it is +essentially a world-forming, and not a world-creating, intelligence. +The Nous and matter exist side by side from eternity. It does not +create matter, but only arranges it. "All things were together," says +Anaxagoras, "infinitely numerous, infinitely little; then came the +Nous and set them in order." In this Anaxagoras showed a sound logical +sense. He based his idea of the existence of Nous upon the design +which exhibits itself in the world. In modern times the existence of +design in the world has been made the foundation of an argument for +the existence of God, which is known as the teleological argument. The +word teleology means the view of things as adapting means towards +purposive ends. To see intelligent design in the universe is to view +the universe teleologically. And the teleological argument for the +existence of God asserts that, as there is evidence of purpose in +nature, this must be due to an intelligent cause. But, as a matter of +fact, taken by itself, teleology cannot possibly be made the basis of +an argument for the existence of a world-creating intelligence, but +only for the existence of a world-designing {102} intelligence. If you +find in the desert the ruins of ancient cities and temples, you are +entitled to conclude therefrom, that there existed a mind which +designed these cities and buildings, and which arranged matter in that +purposive way, but you are not entitled to conclude that the mind +which designed the cities also created the matter out of which they +were made. Anaxagoras was, therefore, in that sense quite right. +Teleology is not evidence of a world-creating mind, and if we are to +prove that, we must have recourse to other lines of reasoning. + +In the beginning, then, there was a chaotic mixture of different kinds +of matter. The Nous produced a vortex at one point in the middle of +this mass. This vortex spread itself outwards in the mass of matter, +like rings caused by the fall of a stone in water. It goes on for ever +and continually draws more and more matter out of the infinite mass +into itself. The movement, therefore, is never-ending. It causes like +kinds of matter to come together with like, gold to gold, wood to +wood, water to water, and so on. It is to be noted, therefore, that +the action of the Nous is apparently confined to the first movement. +It acts only at the one central point, and every subsequent movement +is caused by the vortex itself, which draws in more and more of the +surrounding matter into itself. First are separated out the warm, dry, +and light particles, and these form the aether or upper air. Next come +the cold, moist, dark, and dense particles which form the lower air. +Rotation takes the latter towards the centre, and out of this the +earth is formed. The earth, as with Anaximenes, is a flat disc, borne +upon the air. The heavenly bodies consist of {103} masses of stone +which have been torn from the earth by the force of its rotation, and +being projected outwards become incandescent through the rapidity of +their movement. The moon is made of earth and reflects the light of +the sun. Anaxagoras was thus the first to give the true cause of the +moon's light. He was also the first to discover the true theory of +eclipses, since he taught that the solar eclipse is due to the +intervention of the moon between the sun and the earth, and that lunar +eclipses arise from the shadow of the earth falling upon the moon. He +believed that there are other worlds besides our own with their own +suns and moons. These worlds are inhabited. The sun, according to +Anaxagoras, is many times as large as the Peloponnese. The origin of +life upon the earth is accounted for by germs which existed in the +atmosphere, and which were brought down into the terrestrial slime by +rain water, and there fructified. Anaxagoras's theory of perception is +the opposite of the theories of Empedocles and the Atomists. +Perception takes place by unlike matter meeting unlike. + +Anaxagoras owes his importance in the history of philosophy to the +theory of the Nous. This was the first time that a definite +distinction had been made between the corporeal and incorporeal. +Anaxagoras is the last philosopher of the first period of Greek +philosophy. In the second chapter, [Footnote 9] I observed that this +first period is characterized by the fact that in it the Greek mind +looks only outward upon the external world. It attempts to explain the +operations of nature. It had not yet learned to look inward upon +itself. But the transition to the introspective study of mind is found +in the Nous of {104} Anaxagoras. Mind is now brought to the fore as a +problem for philosophy. To find reason, intelligence, mind, in all +things, in the State, in the individual, in external nature, this is +the characteristic of the second period of Greek philosophy. To have +formulated the antithesis between mind and matter is the most +important work of Anaxagoras. + +[Footnote 9: Pages 23-4.] + +Secondly, it is to the credit of Anaxagoras that he was the first to +introduce the idea of teleology into philosophy. The system of the +Atomists formed the logical completion of the mechanical theory of the +world. The theory of mechanism seeks to explain all things by causes. +But, as we saw, causation can explain nothing. The mechanism of the +world shows us by what means events are brought about, but it does not +explain why they are brought about at all. That can only be explained +by showing the reason for things, by exhibiting all process as a means +towards rational ends. To look to the beginning (cause) of things for +their explanation is the theory of mechanism. To look to their ends +for explanation of them is teleology. Anaxagoras was the first to have +dimly seen this. And for this reason Aristotle praises him, and, +contrasting him with the mechanists, Leucippus and Democritus, says +that he appears like "a sober man among vain babblers." The new +principle which he thus introduced into philosophy was developed, and +formed the central idea of Plato and Aristotle. To have realized the +twin antitheses of matter and mind, of mechanism and teleology, is the +glory of Anaxagoras. + +But it is just here, in the development of these two ideas, that the +defects of his system make their appearance. Firstly, he so separated +matter and mind that {105} his philosophy ends in sheer dualism. He +assumes the Nous and matter as existing from the beginning, side by +side, as equally ultimate and underived principles. A monistic +materialism would have derived the Nous from matter, and a monistic +idealism would have derived matter from the Nous. But Anaxagoras does +neither. Each is left, in his theory, an inexplicable ultimate +mystery. His philosophy is, therefore, an irreconcilable dualism. + +Secondly, his teleology turns out in the end to be only a new theory +of mechanism. The only reason which induces him to introduce the Nous +into the world, is because he cannot otherwise explain the origin of +movement. It is only the first movement of things, the formation of +the vortex, which he explains by mind. All subsequent process is +explained by the action of the vortex itself, which draws the +surrounding matter into itself. The Nous is thus nothing but another +piece of mechanism to account for the first impulse to motion. He +regards the Nous simply as a first cause, and thus the characteristic +of all mechanism, to look back to first causes, to the beginning, +rather than to the end of things for their explanation, appears here. +Aristotle, as usual, puts the matter in a nutshell. "Anaxagoras," he +says, "uses mind as a _deus ex machina_ to account for the formation +of the world, and whenever he is at a loss to explain why anything +necessarily is, he drags it in by force. But in other cases he assigns +as a cause for things anything else in preference to mind." [Footnote +10] + +[Footnote 10; Aristotle, _Metaphysics_, book i, chap. iv.] + + + +{106} + +CHAPTER IX + +THE SOPHISTS + +The first period of Greek philosophy closes with Anaxagoras. His +doctrine of the world-forming intelligence introduced a new principle +into philosophy, the principle of the antithesis between corporeal +matter and incorporeal mind, and therefore, by implication, the +antithesis between nature and man. And if the first period of +philosophy has for its problem the origin of the world, and the +explanation of the being and becoming of nature, the second period of +philosophy opens, in the Sophists, with the problem of the position of +man in the universe. The teaching of the earlier philosophers was +exclusively cosmological, that of the Sophists exclusively humanistic. +Later in this second period, these two modes of thought come together +and fructify one another. The problem of the mind and the problem of +nature are subordinated as factors of the great, universal, +all-embracing, world-systems of Plato and Aristotle. + +It is not possible to understand the activities and teaching of the +Sophists without some knowledge of the religious, political, and +social conditions of the time. After long struggles between the people +and the nobles, democracy had almost everywhere triumphed. But in +Greece democracy did not mean what we now mean by {107} that word. It +did not mean representative institutions, government by the people +through their elected deputies. Ancient Greece was never a single +nation under a single government. Every city, almost every hamlet, was +an independent State, governed only by its own laws. Some of these +States were so small that they comprised merely a handful of citizens. +All were so small that all the citizens could meet together in one +place, and themselves in person enact the laws and transact public +business. There was no necessity for representation. Consequently in +Greece every citizen was himself a politician and a legislator. In +these circumstances, partisan feeling ran to extravagant lengths. Men +forgot the interests of the State in the interests of party, and this +ended in men forgetting the interests of their party in their own +interests. Greed, ambition, grabbing, selfishness, unrestricted +egotism, unbridled avarice, became the dominant notes of the political +life of the time. + +Hand in hand with the rise of democracy went the decay of religion. +Belief in the gods was almost everywhere discredited. This was partly +due to the moral worthlessness of the Greek religion itself. Any +action, however scandalous or disgraceful, could be justified by the +examples of the gods themselves as related by the poets and +mythologers of Greece. But, in greater measure, the collapse of +religion was due to that advance of science and philosophy which we +have been considering in these lectures. The universal tendency of +that philosophy was to find natural causes for what had hitherto been +ascribed to the action of the divine powers, and this could not but +have an undermining effect upon popular {108} belief. Nearly all the +philosophers had been secretly, and many of them openly, antagonistic +to the people's religion. The attack was begun by Xenophanes; +Heracleitus carried it on; and lastly Democritus had attempted to +explain belief in the gods as being caused by fear of gigantic +terrestrial and astronomical phenomena. No educated man any longer +believed in divination, auguries, and miracles. A wave of rationalism +and scepticism passed over the Greek people. The age became one of +negative, critical, and destructive thought. Democracy had undermined +the old aristocratic institutions of the State, and science had +undermined religious orthodoxy. With the downfall of these two pillars +of things established, all else went too. All morality, all custom, +all authority, all tradition, were criticised and rejected. What was +regarded with awe and pious veneration by their fore-fathers the +modern Greeks now looked upon as fit subjects for jest and mockery. +Every restraint of custom, law, or morality, was resented as an +unwarrantable restriction upon the natural impulses of man. What alone +remained when these were thrust aside were the lust, avarice, and +self-will of the individual. + +The teaching of the Sophists was merely a translation into theoretical +propositions of these practical tendencies of the period. The Sophists +were the children of their time, and the interpreters of their age. +Their philosophical teachings were simply the crystallization of the +impulses which governed the life of the people into abstract +principles and maxims. + +Who and what were the Sophists? In the first place, they were not a +school of philosophers. They are not to be compared, for example, with +the Pythagoreans or {109} Eleatics. They had not, as a school has, any +system of philosophy held in common by them all. None of them +constructed systems of thought. They had in common only certain loose +tendencies of thought. Nor were they, as we understand the members of +a school to be, in any close personal association with one another. +They were a professional class rather than a school, and as such they +were scattered over Greece, and nourished among themselves the usual +professional rivalries. They were professional teachers and educators. +The rise of the Sophists was due to the growing demand for popular +education, which was partly a genuine demand for light and knowledge, +but was mostly a desire for such spurious learning as would lead to +worldly, and especially political, success. The triumph of democracy +had brought it about that political careers were now open to the +masses who had hitherto been wholly shut out from them. Any man could +rise to the highest positions in the State, if he were endowed with +cleverness, ready speech, whereby to sway the passions of the mob, and +a sufficient equipment in the way of education. Hence the demand arose +for such an education as would enable the ordinary man to carve out a +political career for himself. It was this demand which the Sophists +undertook to satisfy. They wandered about Greece from place to place, +they gave lectures, they took pupils, they entered into disputations. +For these services they exacted large fees. They were the first in +Greece to take fees for the teaching of wisdom. There was nothing +disgraceful in this in itself, but it had never been customary. The +wise men of Greece had never accepted any payment for their wisdom. +Socrates, who never accepted any payment, {110} but gave his wisdom +freely to all who sought it, somewhat proudly contrasted himself with +the Sophists in this respect. + +The Sophists were not, technically speaking, philosophers. They did +not specialise in the problems of philosophy. Their tendencies were +purely practical. They taught any subject whatever for the teaching of +which there was a popular demand. For example, Protagoras undertook to +impart to his pupils the principles of success as a politician or as a +private citizen. Gorgias taught rhetoric and politics, Prodicus +grammar and etymology, Hippias history, mathematics and physics. In +consequence of this practical tendency of the Sophists we hear of no +attempts among them to solve the problem of the origin of nature, or +the character of the ultimate reality. The Sophists have been +described as teachers of virtue, and the description is correct, +provided that the word virtue is understood in its Greek sense, which +did not restrict it to morality alone. For the Greeks, it meant the +capacity of a person successfully to perform his functions in the +State. Thus the virtue of a mechanic is to understand machinery, the +virtue of a physician to cure the sick, the virtue of a horse trainer +the ability to train horses. The Sophists undertook to train men to +virtue in this sense, to make them successful citizens and members of +the State. + +But the most popular career for a Greek of ability at the time was the +political, which offered the attraction of high positions in the +State. And for this career what was above all necessary was eloquence, +or if that were unattainable, at least ready speech, the ability to +argue, to meet every point as it arose, if not with sound {111} +reasoning, then with quick repartee. Hence the Sophists very largely +concentrated their energies upon the teaching of rhetoric. In itself +this was good. They were the first to direct attention to the science +of rhetoric, of which they may be considered the founders. But their +rhetoric also had its bad side, which indeed, soon became its only +side. The aims of the young politicians whom they trained were, not to +seek out the truth for its own sake, but merely to persuade the +multitude of whatever they wished them to believe. Consequently the +Sophists, like lawyers, not caring for the truth of the matter, +undertook to provide a stock of arguments on any subject, or to prove +any proposition. They boasted of their ability to make the worse +appear the better reason, to prove that black is white. Some of them, +like Gorgias, asserted that it was not necessary to have any knowledge +of a subject to give satisfactory replies as regards it. And Gorgias +ostentatiously undertook to answer any question on any subject +instantly and without consideration. To attain these ends mere +quibbling, and the scoring of verbal points, were employed. Hence our +word "sophistry." The Sophists, in this way, endeavoured to entangle, +entrap, and confuse their opponents, and even, if this were not +possible, to beat them down by mere violence and noise. They sought +also to dazzle by means of strange or flowery metaphors, by unusual +figures of speech, by epigrams and paradoxes, and in general by being +clever and smart, rather than earnest and truthful. When a man is +young he is often dazzled by brilliance and cleverness, by paradox and +epigram, but as he grows older he learns to discount these things and +to care chiefly for the substance and {112} truth of what is said. And +the Greeks were a young people. They loved clever sayings. And this it +is which accounts for the toleration which they extended even to the +most patent absurdities of the Sophists. The modern question whether a +man has ceased beating his wife is not more childish than many of the +rhetorical devices of the Sophists, and is indeed characteristic of +the methods of the more extravagant among them. + +The earliest known Sophist is Protagoras. He was born at Abdera, about +480 B.C. He wandered up and down Greece, and settled for some time at +Athens. At Athens, however, he was charged with impiety and atheism. +This was on account of a book written by him on the subject of the +gods, which began with the words, "As for the gods, I am unable to say +whether they exist or whether they do not exist." The book was +publicly burnt, and Protagoras had to fly from Athens. He fled to +Sicily, but was drowned on the way about the year 410 B.C. + +Protagoras was the author of the famous saying, "Man is the measure of +all things; of what is, that it is; of what is not, that it is not." +Now this saying puts in a nutshell, so to speak, the whole teaching of +Protagoras. And, indeed, it contains in germ the entire thought of the +Sophists. It is well, therefore, that we should fully understand +exactly what it means. The earlier Greek philosophers had made a clear +distinction between sense and thought, between perception and reason, +and had believed that the truth is to be found, not by the senses, but +by reason. The Eleatics had been the first to emphasize this +distinction. The ultimate reality of {113} things, they said, is pure +Being, which is known only through reason; it is the senses which +delude us with a show of becoming. Heracleitus had likewise affirmed +that the truth, which was, for him, the law of becoming, is known by +thought, and that it is the senses which delude us with a show of +permanence. Even Democritus believed that true being, that is, +material atoms, are so small that the senses cannot perceive them, and +only reason is aware of their existence. Now the teaching of +Protagoras really rests fundamentally upon the denying and confusing +of this distinction. If we are to see this, we must first of all +understand that reason is the universal, sensation the particular, +element in man. In the first place, reason is communicable, sensation +incommunicable. My sensations and feelings are personal to myself, and +cannot be imparted to other people. For example, no one can +communicate the sensation of redness to a colour-blind man, who has +not already experienced it. But a thought, or rational idea, can be +communicated to any rational being. Now suppose the question is +whether the angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal. We +may approach the problem in two ways. We may appeal either to the +senses or to reason. If we appeal to the senses, one man will come +forward and say that to him the angles look equal. Another man will +say that one angle looks bigger than the other, and so on. But if, +like Euclid, we appeal to reason, then it can be proved that the two +angles are equal, and there is no room left for mere personal +impressions, because reason is a law universally valid and binding +upon all men. My sensations are private and peculiar to myself. They +bind no one but myself. My {114} impressions about the triangle are +not a law to anyone except myself. But my reason I share with all +other rational beings. It is not a law for me merely, but for all. It +is one and the same reason in me and in other men. Reason, therefore, +is the universal, sensation the particular, element in man. Now it is +practically this distinction that Protagoras denied. Man, he said, is +the measure of all things. By man he did not mean mankind at large. He +meant the individual man. And by measure of all things he meant the +standard of the truth of all things. Each individual man is the +standard of what is true to himself. There is no truth except the +sensations and impressions of each man. What seems true to me is true +for me. What seems true to you is true for you. + +We commonly distinguish between subjective impressions and objective +truth. The words subjective and objective are constantly recurring +throughout the history of philosophy, and as this is the first time I +use them, I will explain them here. In every act of thought there must +necessarily be two terms. I am now looking at this desk and thinking +of this desk. There is the "I" which thinks, and there is the desk +which is thought. "I" am the subject of the thought, the desk is the +object of the thought. In general, the subject is that which thinks, +and the object is that which is thought. Subjective is that which +appertains to the subject, and objective is that which appertains to +the object. So the meaning of the distinction between subjective +impressions and the objective truth is clear. My personal impression +may be that the earth is flat, but the objective truth is that the +{115} earth is round. Travelling through a desert, I may be subject to +a mirage, and think that there is water in front of me. That is my +subjective impression. The objective truth is that there is nothing +but sand. The objective truth is something which has an existence of +its own, independent of me. It does not matter what I think, or what +you think, what I want, or what you want; the truth is what it is. We +must conform ourselves to the truth. Truth will not conform itself to +our personal inclinations, wishes, or impressions. The teaching of +Protagoras practically amounted to a denial of this. What it meant was +that there is no objective truth, no truth independent of the +individual subject. Whatever seems to the individual true is true for +that individual. Thus truth is identified with subjective sensations +and impressions. + +To deny the distinction between objective truth and subjective +impression is the same as to deny the distinction between reason and +sense. To my senses the earth seems flat. It looks flat to the eye. It +is only through reason that I know the objective truth that the world +is round. Reason, therefore, is the only possible standard of +objective truth. If you deny the rational element its proper part, it +follows that you will be left a helpless prey to diverse personal +impressions. The impressions yielded by the senses differ in different +people. One man sees a thing in one way, another sees it in another. +If, therefore, what seems to me true is true for me, and what seems to +you true is true for you, and if our impressions differ, it will +follow that two contradictory propositions must both be true. +Protagoras clearly understood this, {116} and did not flinch from the +conclusion. He taught that all opinions are true, that error is +impossible, and that, whatever proposition is put forward, it is +always possible to oppose to it a contradictory proposition with +equally good arguments and with equal truth. In reality, the result of +this procedure is to rob the distinction between truth and falsehood +of all meaning. It makes no difference whether we say that all +opinions are true, or whether we say that all are false. The words +truth and falsehood, in such context, have no meaning. To say that +whatever I feel is the truth for me means only that what I feel I +feel. To call this "truth for me," adds nothing to the meaning. + +Protagoras seems to have been led to these doctrines partly by +observing the different accounts of the same object which the +sense-organs yield to different people, and even to the same person at +different times. If knowledge depends upon these impressions, the +truth about the object cannot be ascertained. He was also influenced +by the teaching of Heracleitus. Heracleitus had taught that all +permanence is illusion. Everything is a perpetual becoming; all things +flow. What is at this moment, at the next moment is not. Even at one +and the same moment, Heracleitus believed, a thing is and is not. If +it is true to say that it is, it is equally true that it is not. And +this is, in effect, the teaching of Protagoras. + +The Protagorean philosophy thus amounts to a declaration that +knowledge is impossible. If there is no objective truth, there cannot +be any knowledge of it. The impossibility of knowledge is also the +standpoint of Gorgias. The title of his book is characteristic of +{117} the Sophistical love of paradox. It was called "On Nature, or +the non-existent." In this book he attempted to prove three +propositions, (1) that nothing exists: (2) that if anything exists, it +cannot be known: (3) that if it can be known, the knowledge of it +cannot be communicated. + +For proof of the first proposition, "nothing exists," Gorgias attached +himself to the school of the Eleatics, especially to Zeno. Zeno had +taught that in all multiplicity and motion, that is to say, in all +existence, there are irreconcilable contradictions. Zeno was in no +sense a sceptic. He did not seek for contradictions in things for the +sake of the contradictions, but in order to support the positive +thesis of Parmenides, that only being is, and that becoming is not at +all. Zeno, therefore, is to be regarded as a constructive, and not +merely as a destructive, thinker. But it is obvious that by +emphasizing only the negative element in his philosophy, it is +possible to use his antinomies as powerful weapons in the cause of +scepticism and nihilism. And it was in this way that Gorgias made use +of the dialectic of Zeno. Since all existence is self-contradictory, +it follows that nothing exists. He also made use of the famous +argument of Parmenides regarding the origin of being. If anything is, +said Gorgias, it must have had a beginning. Its being must have arisen +either from being, or from not-being. If it arose from being, there is +no beginning. If it arose from not-being, this is impossible, since +something cannot arise out of nothing. Therefore nothing exists. + +The second proposition of Gorgias, that if anything exists it cannot +be known, is part and parcel of the whole Sophistic tendency of +thought, which identifies knowledge {118} with sense-perception, and +ignores the rational element. Since sense-impressions differ in +different people, and even in the same person, the object as it is in +itself cannot be known. The third proposition follows from the same +identification of knowledge with sensation, since sensation is what +cannot be communicated. + +The later Sophists went much further than Protagoras and Gorgias. It +was their work to apply the teaching of Protagoras to the spheres of +politics and morals. If there is no objective truth, and if what seems +true to each individual is for him the truth, so also, there can be no +objective moral code, and what seems right to each man is right for +him. If we are to have anything worth calling morality, it is clear +that it must be a law for all, and not merely a law for some. It must +be valid for, and binding upon, all men. It must, therefore, be +founded upon that which is universal in man, that is to say, his +reason. To found it upon sense-impressions and feelings is to found it +upon shifting quicksands. My feelings and sensations are binding upon +no man but myself, and therefore a universally valid law cannot be +founded upon them. Yet the Sophists identified morality with the +feelings of the individual. Whatever I think right is right for me. +Whatever you think right is right for you. Whatever each man, in his +irrational self-will, chooses to do, that is, for him, legitimate. +These conclusions were drawn by Polus, Thrasymachus, and Critias. + +Now if there is, in this way, no such thing as objective right, it +follows that the laws of the State can be founded upon nothing except +force, custom, and convention. We often speak of just laws, and good +laws. But to speak in that way involves the existence of an objective +{119} standard of goodness and justice, with which we can compare the +law, and see whether it agrees with that standard or not. To the +Sophists, who denied any such standard, it was mere nonsense to speak +of just and good laws. No law is in itself good or just, because there +is no such thing as goodness or justice. Or if they used such a word +as justice, they defined it as meaning the right of the stronger; or +the right of the majority. Polus and Thrasymachus, consequently, drew +the conclusion that the laws of the State were inventions of the weak, +who were cunning enough, by means of this stratagem, to control the +strong, and rob them of the natural fruits of their strength. The law +of force is the only law which nature recognizes. If a man, therefore, +is powerful enough to defy the law with impunity, he has a perfect +right to do so. The Sophists were thus the first, but not the last, to +preach the doctrine that might is right. And, in similar vein, Critias +explained popular belief in the gods as the invention of some crafty +statesman for controlling the mob through fear. + +Now it is obvious that the whole tendency of this sophistical teaching +is destructive and anti-social. It is destructive of religion, of +morality, of the foundations of the State, and of all established +institutions. And we can now see that the doctrines of the Sophists +were, in fact, simply the crystallization into abstract thought of the +practical tendencies of the age. The people in practice, the Sophists +in theory, decried and trod under foot the restrictions of law, +authority, and custom, leaving nothing but the deification of the +individual in his crude self-will and egotism. It was in fact an age +of "aufklaerung," which means enlightenment or {120} illumination. Such +periods of illumination, it seems, recur periodically in the history +of thought, and in the history of civilization. This is the first, but +not the last, such period with which the history of philosophy deals. +This is the Greek illumination. Such periods present certain +characteristic features. They follow, as a rule, upon an era of +constructive thought. In the present instance the Greek illumination +followed closely upon the heels of the great development of science +and philosophy from Thales to Anaxagoras. In such a constructive +period the great thinkers bring to birth new principles, which, in the +course of time, filter down to the masses of the people and cause +popular, if shallow, science, and a wide-spread culture. Popular +education becomes a feature of the time. The new ideas, fermenting +among the people, break up old prejudices and established ideas, and +thus thought, at first constructive, becomes, among the masses, +destructive in character. Hence the popular thought, in a period of +enlightenment, issues in denial, scepticism, and disbelief. It is +merely negative in its activities and results. Authority, tradition, +and custom are wholly or partially destroyed. And since authority, +tradition, and custom are the cement of the social structure, there +results a general dissolution of that structure into its component +individuals. All emphasis is now laid on the individual. Thought +becomes egocentric. Individualism is the dominant note. Extreme +subjectivity is the principle of the age. All these features make +their appearance in the Greek aufklaerung. The Sophistical doctrine +that the truth is what I think, the good what I choose to do, is the +extreme application of the subjective and egocentric principles. + +{121} + +The early eighteenth century in England and France was likewise a +period of enlightenment, and the era from which we are now, perhaps, +just emerging, bears many of the characteristics of aufklaerung. It is +sceptical and destructive. All established institutions, marriage, the +family, the state, the law, come in for much destructive criticism. It +followed immediately upon the close of a great period of constructive +thought, the scientific development of the nineteenth century. And +lastly, the age has produced its own Protagorean philosophy, which it +calls pragmatism. If pragmatism is not egocentric, it is at least +anthropocentric. Truth is no longer thought of as an objective +reality, to which mankind must conform. On the contrary, the truth +must conform itself to mankind. Whatever it is useful to believe, +whatever belief "works" in practice, is declared to be true. But since +what "works" in one age and country does not "work" in another, since +what it is useful to believe to-day will be useless to-morrow, it +follows that there is no objective truth independent of mankind at +all. Truth is not now defined as dependent on the sensations of man, +as it was with Protagoras, but as dependent on the volition of man. In +either case it is not the universal in man, his reason, which is made +the basis of truth and morals, but the subjective, individual, +particular element in him. + +We must not forget the many merits of the Sophists. Individually, they +were often estimable men. Nothing is known against the character of +Protagoras, and Prodicus was proverbial for his wisdom and the genuine +probity and uprightness of his principles. Moreover the Sophists +contributed much to the advance of learning. {122} They were the first +to direct attention to the study of words, sentences, style, prosody, +and rhythm. They were the founders of the science of rhetoric. They +spread education and culture far and wide in Greece, they gave a great +impulse to the study of ethical ideas, which made possible the +teaching of Socrates, and they stirred up a ferment of ideas without +which the great period of Plato and Aristotle could never have seen +the light. But, from the philosophical point of view, their merit is +for the first time to have brought into general recognition _the right +of the subject_. For there is, after all, much reason in these attacks +made by the Sophists upon authority, upon established things, upon +tradition, custom and dogma. Man, as a rational being, ought not to be +tyrannized over by authority, dogma, and tradition. He cannot be +subjected, thus violently, to the imposition of beliefs from an +external source. No man has the right to say to me, "you _shall_ think +this," or "you _shall_ think that." I, as a rational being, have the +right to use my reason, and judge for myself. If a man would convince +me, he must not appeal to force, but to reason. In doing so, he is not +imposing his opinions externally upon me; he is educing his opinions +from the internal sources of my own thought; he is showing me that his +opinions are in reality my own opinions, if I only knew it. But the +mistake of the Sophists was that, in thus recognizing the right of the +subject, they wholly ignored and forgot _the right of the object_. For +the truth has objective existence, and is what it is, whether I think +it or not. Their mistake was that though they rightly saw that for +truth and morality to be valid for me, they must be assented to by, +and developed out of, {123} me myself, not imposed from the outside, +yet they laid the emphasis on my merely accidental and particular +characteristics, my impulses, feelings, and sensations, and made these +the source of truth and morality, instead of emphasizing as the source +of truth and right the universal part of me, my reason. "Man is the +measure of all things"; certainly, but man as a rational being, not +man as a bundle of particular sensations, subjective impressions, +impulses, irrational prejudices, self-will, mere eccentricities, +oddities, foibles, and fancies. + +Good examples of the right and wrong principles of the Sophists are to +be found in modern Protestantism and modern democracy. Protestantism, +it is often said, is founded upon the right of private judgment, and +this is simply the right of the subject, the right of the individual +to exercise his own reason. But if this is interpreted to mean that +each individual is entitled to set up his mere whims and fancies as +the law in religious matters, then we have the bad sort of +Protestantism. Again, democracy is simply political protestantism, and +democratic ideas are the direct offspring of the protestant +Reformation. The democratic principle is that no rational being can be +asked to obey a law to which his own reason has not assented. But the +law must be founded upon reason, upon the universal in man. I, as an +individual, as a mere ego, have no rights whatever. It is only as a +rational being, as a potentially universal being, as a member of the +commonwealth of reason, that I have any rights, that I can claim to +legislate for myself and others. But if each individual's capricious +self-will, his mere whims and fancies, are erected into a law, then +democracy turns into anarchism and bolshevism. + +{124} + +It is a great mistake to suppose that the doctrines of the Sophists +are merely antiquated ideas, dead and fossilized thoughts, of interest +only to historians, but of no importance to us. On the contrary, +modern popular thought positively reeks with the ideas and tendencies +of the Sophists. It is often said that a man ought to have strong +convictions, and some people even go so far as to say that it does not +much matter what a man believes, so long as what he believes he +believes strongly and firmly. Now certainly it is quite true that a +man with strong convictions is more interesting than a man without any +opinions. The former is at least a force in the world, while the +latter is colourless and ineffectual. But to put exclusive emphasis on +the mere fact of having convictions is wrong. After all, the final +test of worth must be whether the man's convictions are true or false. +There must be an objective standard of truth, and to forget this, to +talk of the mere fact of having strong opinions as in itself a merit, +is to fall into the error of the Sophists. + +Another common saying is that everyone has a right to his own +opinions. This is quite true, and it merely expresses the right of the +subject to use his own reason. But it is sometimes interpreted in a +different way. If a man holds a totally irrational opinion, and if +every weapon is beaten out of his hands, if he is driven from every +position he takes up--so that there is nothing left for him to do, +except to admit that he is wrong, such a man will sometimes take +refuge in the saying, that, after all, argue as you may, he has a +right to his own opinion. But we cannot allow the claim. No man has a +right to wrong opinions. There cannot be any right {125} in wrong +opinions. You have no right to an opinion unless it is founded upon +that which is universal in man, his reason. You cannot claim this +right on behalf of your subjective impressions, and irrational whims. +To do so is to make the mistake of the Sophists. + +The tendencies of the more shallow type of modern rationalism exhibit +a similar Sophistical thought. It is pointed out that moral ideas vary +very much in different countries and ages, that in Japan, for example, +prostitution is condoned, and that in ancient Egypt incest was not +condemned. Now it is important to know these facts. They should serve +as a warning to us against dogmatic narrow-mindedness in moral +matters. But some people draw from these facts the conclusion that +there is no universally valid and objectively real moral law. The +conclusion does not follow from the premises, and the conclusion is +false. People's opinions differ, not only on moral questions, but upon +every subject under the sun. Because men, a few hundred years ago, +believed that the earth was flat, whereas now we believe it is round, +it does not follow that it has in reality no shape at all, that there +is no objective truth in the matter. And because men's opinions +differ, in different ages and countries, as to what the true moral law +is, it does not follow that there is no objective moral law. + +We will take as our last example the current talk about the importance +of developing one's personality. A man, it is said, should "be +himself," and the expression of his own individuality must be his +leading idea. Now certainly it is good to be oneself in the sense that +it is hypocritical to pretend to be what one is not. Moreover, it is +no doubt true that each man has certain special {126} gifts, which he +ought to develop, so that all, in their diverse ways, may contribute +as much as possible to the spiritual and material wealth of the world. +But this ideal of individuality often leads to false developments, as +we see in the spheres of art and of education. Such a man as Oscar +Wilde, whose personality is essentially evil, defends his artistic +principles on the ground that he must needs express his personality, +that art is nothing but such personal expression, and that it is +subject to no standard save the individuality of the artist. Some +writers on education, among them Mr. Bernard Shaw, who has many points +in common with the Sophists, tell us that to attempt to mould the +character of a child by discipline, is to sin against its personality, +and that the child should be allowed to develop its individuality +unchecked in its own way. But against this we have to protest that to +make the cultivation of individuality an end in itself, and to put +exclusive emphasis on this, is wrong. The cultivation of an +individuality is not in itself a good thing; it is not a good thing if +the individuality be a worthless one. If a child exhibits savage or +selfish tendencies, it must be subjected to discipline, and it is +ridiculous to make a fetish of its personality to such an extent as to +allow it to develop as it likes. In a similar way, the ideal of +individuality is often interpreted to mean that the cultivation of the +mere eccentricities and oddities of the individual is something good. +But the personal peculiarities of a man are just what is worthless +about him. That alone which entitles him to the sacred rights of a +"person" is his rational and universal nature. + + + +{127} + +CHAPTER X + +SOCRATES + +Amid the destruction of all ideals of truth and morality, which was +brought about by the Sophists, there appeared in Athens the figure of +Socrates, who was destined to restore order out of chaos, and to +introduce sanity into the disordered intellectual life of the time. +Socrates was born about 470 B.C. in Athens. His father was a sculptor, +his mother a midwife. Very little is known of his early years and +education, except that he took up his father's occupation as a +sculptor. In later years some statues used to be shown at the +Acropolis in Athens, which were said to be the work of Socrates. But +comparatively early in life he deserted his profession in order to +devote himself to what he considered his mission in life, philosophy. +He spent his entire life in Athens, never departing from it, save for +short periods on three occasions, when he served in military +expeditions in the Athenian army. For from twenty to thirty years he +laboured at his philosophical mission in Athens, until, in his +seventieth year, he was charged with denying the national gods, +introducing new gods of his own, and corrupting the Athenian youth. On +these charges he was condemned to death and executed. + +{128} + +The personal appearance of Socrates was grotesque. He was short, +thick-set, and ugly. As he grew older he became bald; his nose was +broad, flat, and turned up; he walked with a peculiar gait, and had a +trick of rolling his eyes. His clothes were old and poor. He cared +little or nothing for external appearances. + +Socrates believed that he was guided in all his actions by a +supernatural voice, which he called his "daemon." This voice, he +thought, gave him premonitions of the good or evil consequences of his +proposed actions, and nothing would induce him to disobey its +injunctions. Socrates constructed no philosophy, that is to say, no +system of philosophy. He was the author of philosophical tendencies, +and of a philosophic method. He never committed his opinions to +writing. His method of philosophizing was purely conversational. It +was his habit to go down every day to the market place in Athens, or +to any other spot where people gathered, and there to engage in +conversation with anyone who was ready to talk to him about the deep +problems of life and death. Rich or poor, young or old, friend or +stranger, whoever came, and would attend, could listen freely to the +talk of Socrates. He took no fees, as the Sophists did, and remained +always a poor man. He did not, like the Sophists, deliver long +speeches, tirades, and monologues. He never monopolised the +conversation, and frequently it was the other party who did most of +the talking, Socrates only interposing questions and comments, and yet +remaining always master of the conversation, and directing it into +fruitful channels. The conversation proceeded chiefly by the method of +question and answer, Socrates by acute questions educing, bringing to +birth, {129} the thoughts of his partner, correcting, refuting, or +developing them. + +In carrying on this daily work, Socrates undoubtedly regarded himself +as engaged upon a mission in some way supernaturally imposed upon him +by God. Of the origin of this mission we have an account in the +"Apology" of Plato, who puts into the mouth of Socrates the following +words:--"Chairephon .... made a pilgrimage to Delphi and had the +audacity to ask this question from the oracle .... He actually asked +if there was any man wiser than I. And the priestess answered, No .... +When I heard the answer, I asked myself: What can the god mean? what +can he be hinting? For certainly I have never thought myself wise in +anything, great or small. What can he mean then, when he asserts that +I am the wisest of men? He cannot lie, of course: that would be +impossible for him. And for a long while I was at a loss to think what +he could mean. At last, after much thought, I started on some such +course as this. I betook myself to one of the men who seemed wise, +thinking that there, if anywhere, I should refute the utterance, and +could say to the oracle: 'This man is wiser than I, and you said I was +the wisest.' Now when I looked into the man--there is no need to give +his name--it was one of our citizens, men of Athens, with whom I had +an experience of this kind--when we talked together I thought, 'This +man seems wise to many men, and above all to himself, but he is not +so'; and then I tried to show that he thought he was wise, but he was +not. Then he got angry with me and so did many who heard us, but I +went away and thought to myself, 'Well, at any rate I am wiser than +this man: probably neither of {130} us knows anything of beauty or of +good, but he thinks he knows something when he knows nothing, and I, +if I know nothing, at least never suppose that I do. So it looks as +though I really were a little wiser than he, just in so far as I do +not imagine myself to know things about which I know nothing at all.' +After that I went to another man who seemed to be wiser still, and I +had exactly the same experience, and then he got angry with me too, +and so did many more. Thus I went round them all, one after the other, +aware of what was happening and sorry for it, and afraid that they +were getting to hate me." + +In this passage we can see, too, the supposed origin of another +peculiar Socratic feature, the Socratic "irony." In any discussion, +Socrates would, as a rule, profess himself to be totally ignorant of +the matter in hand, and only anxious to learn the wisdom possessed by +his interlocutor. This professed ignorance was not affectation. He was +genuinely impressed with the notion that not only he, but all other +men, live for the most part in ignorance of the things that are the +most important to be known, the nature of goodness, beauty, and truth. +He believed that the self-styled knowledge of the wise was, for the +most part, nothing but pretentious ignorance. Nevertheless, he used +this profession of ignorance as a weapon of offence, and it became in +his hands a powerful rhetorical instrument, which he used with +specially telling effect against those who, puffed up with their own +importance and wisdom, pretended to knowledge which they did not +possess. Such hollow pretence of knowledge met with uncompromising +exposure at the hands of Socrates. With such persons he would open the +{131} conversation with a confession of his own ignorance and an +expression of his desire to learn the wisdom, which, he knew, they +possessed. In their eagerness to show off their knowledge, they would, +perhaps, rush into the breach with some very positive assertion. +Socrates would express himself as delighted with this, but would add +that there were one or two things about it which he did not fully +understand, and he would proceed, with a few dexterous questions, to +expose the hollowness, the shallowness, or the ignorance of the +answers. + +It was chiefly the young men of Athens who gathered round Socrates, +who was for them a centre of intellectual activity and a fountain of +inspiration. It was this fact which afterwards formed the basis of the +charge that he "corrupted the youth." He was a man of the noblest +character and of the simplest life. Accepting no fees, he acquired no +wealth. Poor, caring nothing for worldly goods, wholly independent of +the ordinary needs and desires of men, he devoted himself exclusively +to the acquisition of that which, in his eyes, alone had value, wisdom +and virtue. He was endowed with the utmost powers of physical +endurance and moral strength. When he served with the army in the +Peloponnesian war, he astonished his fellow-soldiers by his bravery, +and his cheerful endurance of every hardship. On two occasions, at +considerable risk to himself, he saved the lives of his companions. At +the battle of Delium it is said that Socrates was the only man who +kept his head in the rout of the Athenians. He was an excellent +companion, and though simple in his habits, and independent of all +material pleasures, never made a fetish of this independence, nor +allowed it to degenerate into a harsh asceticism, {132} Thus, he +needed no wine, but yet, if occasion called for it, he not only drank, +but could drink more than any other man without turning a hair. In the +"Banquet" of Plato, Socrates is depicted sitting all night long +drinking and talking philosophy with his friends. One by one the +guests succumbed, leaving only Socrates and two others, and at last, +as the dawn broke, these two also fell asleep. But Socrates got up, +washed himself, and went down to the market place to begin his daily +work. + +In his seventieth year he was tried on three charges: (1) for denying +the national gods, (2) for setting up new gods of his own, (3) for +corrupting the youth. All these charges were entirely baseless. The +first might well have been brought against almost any of the earlier +Greek thinkers with some justice. Most of them disbelieved in the +national religion; many of them openly denied the existence of the +gods. Socrates, almost alone, had refrained from any such attitude. On +the contrary, he always enjoined veneration towards the gods, and +urged his hearers, in whatever city they might be, to honour the gods +according to the custom of that city. According to Xenophon, however, +he distinguished between the many gods and the one creator of the +universe, who controls, guides, and guards over the lives of men. The +second charge appears to have been based upon the claim of Socrates to +be guided by a supernatural inner voice, but whatever we may think of +this claim, it can hardly constitute good ground for a charge of +introducing new gods. The third charge, that of corrupting the youth, +was equally baseless, though the fact that Alcibiades, who had been a +favourite pupil of Socrates, afterwards turned traitor to Athens, and +{133} led, moreover, a dissolute and unprincipled life, no doubt +prejudiced the philosopher in the eyes of the Athenians. But Socrates +was not responsible for the misdeeds of Alcibiades, and his general +influence upon the Athenian youth was the very opposite of corrupting. + + +What then were the real reasons for these accusations? In the first +place, there is no doubt that Socrates had made many personal enemies. +In his daily disputations he had not spared even the most powerful men +in Athens, but had ruthlessly laid bare the ignorance of those who +pretended to be wise. There is, however, no reason to believe that the +three men who actually laid the charges, Melitus, Lycon, and Anytus, +did so out of any personal animosity. But they were men of straw, put +forward by more powerful persons who remained behind the scenes. In +the second place, Socrates had rendered himself obnoxious to the +Athenian democracy. He was no aristocrat in feeling, nor was he a +supporter of the vested interests and privileges of the few. But he +could not accommodate himself to the mob-rule which then went by the +name of democracy. The government of the State, he believed, should be +in the hands of the wise, the just, and the good, those competent and +trained to govern, and these are necessarily the few. He himself had +taken no part in the political life of the time, preferring to guide +by his influence and advice the young men on whom some day the duties +of the State would devolve. On two occasions only did he take an +active part in politics, and on both occasions his conduct gave great +offence. Both these incidents are recounted in a passage in Plato's +"Apology," which I will quote. The {134} first incident refers to the +aftermath of the battle of Arginusae. The Athenian fleet had gained a +victory here, but lost twenty-five ships of war, and the whole of the +crews of these ships were drowned. This was attributed to the +carelessness of the generals, and there was great indignation in +Athens, upon their return whither the generals were put upon their +trial. According to the law of Athens each accused had to be given a +separate trial, but in their eagerness to have the generals condemned, +the judges in this instance decided to try them all in a body. "You +know, men of Athens," says Socrates in the "Apology," "that I have +never held any other office in the State, but I did serve on the +Council. And it happened that my tribe, Antiochis, had the Presidency +at the time you decided to try the ten generals who had not taken up +the dead after the fight at sea. You decided to try them in one body, +contrary to law, as you all felt afterwards. On that occasion I was +the only one of the Presidents who opposed you, and told you not to +break the law; and I gave my vote against you; and when the orators +were ready to impeach and arrest me, and you encouraged them and +hooted me, I thought then that I ought to take all the risks on the +side of law and justice, rather than side with you, when your +decisions were unjust, through fear of imprisonment or death. That was +while the city was still under the democracy. When the oligarchy came +into power, the Thirty, in their turn, summoned me with four others to +the Rotunda, and commanded us to fetch Leon of Salamis from that +island, in order to put him to death: the sort of commands they often +gave to many others, anxious as they were to incriminate all they +could. And on that occasion {135} I showed not by words only, that for +death, to put it bluntly, I did not care one straw--but I did care, +and to the full, about doing what was wicked and unjust. I was not +terrified then into doing wrong by that government in all its power; +when we left the Rotunda, the other four went off to Salamis and +brought Leon back, but I went home. And probably I should have been +put to death for it, if the government had not been overthrown soon +afterwards." + +But there was a third, and greater reason, for the condemnation of +Socrates. These charges were brought against him because the popular +mind confused him with the Sophists. This was entirely absurd, because +Socrates in no respect resembled the Sophists, either in the manner of +his life or in the tendency of his thought, which was wholly +anti-sophistical. But that such a confusion did exist in the popular +mind is clearly proved by "The Clouds" of Aristophanes. Aristophanes +was a reactionary in thought and politics, and, hating the Sophists as +the representatives of modernism, he lampooned them in his comedy, +"The Clouds." Socrates appears in the play as the central character, +and the chief of the Sophists. This was entirely unjust, but it +affords evidence of the fact that Socrates was commonly mistaken for a +Sophist by the Athenians. Aristophanes would not have ventured to +introduce such a delusion into his play, had his audience not shared +in it. Now at this time a wave of reaction was passing over Athens, +and there was great indignation against the Sophists, who were rightly +supposed to be overturning all ideals of truth and goodness. Socrates +fell a victim to the anger of the populace against the Sophists. + +{136} + +At the trial Socrates conducted himself with dignity and confidence. +It was usual in those days for an accused person to weep and lament, +to flatter the judges, to seek indulgence by grovelling and fawning, +to appeal for pity by parading his wife and children in the court. +Socrates refused to do any of these things, considering them unmanly. +His "defence" was, indeed, not so much a defence of himself as an +arraignment of his judges, the people of Athens, for their corruption +and vice. This attitude of Socrates certainly brought about his +condemnation. There is every reason to believe that if he had adopted +a grovelling, even a conciliatory tone, he would have been acquitted. +As it was, he was found guilty by a bare majority. The law enacted +that, when the charge was proved, those who had brought the accusation +should first propose the penalty which they thought fitting; then the +accused himself should propose an alternative penalty. It was for the +judges to decide which of the two should be inflicted. The accusers of +Socrates proposed the death-penalty. Here again Socrates might have +escaped by proposing at once some petty punishment. This would have +satisfied the people, who were only anxious to score off the +troublesome philosopher and pedant. But Socrates proudly affirmed +that, as he was guilty of no crime, he deserved no punishment. To +propose a penalty would be to admit his guilt. Far from being a guilty +person, he considered himself in the light of a public benefactor, and +as such, if he were to get his deserts, he proposed that he should be +publicly honoured by being given a seat at the President's table. +Nevertheless, as the law forced him to propose a penalty, he would, +without prejudice to his {137} plea of innocence, suggest a fine of +thirty minas. This conduct so exasperated the judges that he was now +condemned to death by a large majority, about eighty of those who had +previously voted for his acquittal now voting for his execution. + +Thirty days elapsed before he was executed, and these days were spent +in prison. His friends, who had free access to him, urged him to +escape. These things were possible in Athens. Anaxagoras had +apparently escaped with the help of Pericles. A little silver in the +hands of the jailguards would probably have settled the matter. +Socrates could fly to Thessaly, where the law could not reach him, as +Anaxagoras had fled to Ionia. But Socrates steadily refused, saying +that to flee from death was cowardly, and that one ought to obey the +laws. The law had decreed his death, and he must obey. After thirty +days, therefore, the poison cup was brought to him, and he drank it +without flinching. Here is Plato's account of the death of Socrates, +which I quote from the "Phaedo." In detail it cannot be considered +historical, but we may well believe that the main incidents as well as +the picture it gives us of the bearing and demeanour of the +philosopher in his last moments, are accurate representations of the +facts. + +"He rose and went into a chamber to bathe, and Crito followed him, but +he directed us to wait for him. We waited, therefore, conversing among +ourselves about what had been said, and considering it again, and +sometimes speaking about our calamity, how severe it would be to us, +sincerely thinking that, like those who are deprived of a father, we +should pass the rest of our lives as orphans. When he had bathed and +his {138} children were brought to him, for he had two little sons and +one grown up, and the women belonging to his family were come, having +conversed with them in the presence of Crito, and given them such +injunctions as he wished, he directed the women and children to go +away, and then returned to us. And it was now near sunset; for he +spent a considerable time within. But when he came from bathing he sat +down and did not speak much afterwards: then the officer of the Eleven +came in and standing near him said, 'Socrates, I shall not have to +find that fault with you that I do with the others, that they are +angry with me, and curse me, when, by order of the archons, I bid them +drink the poison. But you, on all other occasions during the time you +have been here, I have found to be the most noble, meek and excellent +man of all that ever came into this place; and, therefore, I am now +well convinced that you will not be angry with me. Now, then, for you +know what I came to announce to you, farewell, and endeavour to bear +what is inevitable as easily as possible.' And at the same time, +bursting into tears, he turned away and withdrew. And Socrates, +looking after him, said, 'And thou too, farewell, we will do as you +direct.' At the same time, turning to us he said 'How courteous the +man is; during the whole time I have been here he has visited me, and +conversed with me sometimes, and proved the worthiest of men; and how +generously he weeps for me. But come, Crito, let us obey him and let +some one bring the poison, if it is ready pounded, but if not let the +man pound it.' + +"Then Crito said, 'But I think, Socrates, that the sun is still on the +mountains, and has not yet set. Besides, {139} I know that others have +drunk the poison very late, after it had been announced to them, and +have supped and drunk freely, and some even have enjoyed the objects +of their love. Do not hasten them, for there is yet time.' + +"Upon this Socrates replied, 'These men whom you mention, Crito, do +these things with good reason, for they think they shall gain by so +doing, and I too with good reason, shall not do so; for I think I +shall gain nothing by drinking a little later, except to become +ridiculous to myself, in being so fond of life, and sparing of it when +none any longer remains. Go then,' he said, 'obey, and do not resist.' + +"Crito having heard this, nodded to the boy that stood near. And the +boy having gone out, and stayed for some time, came, bringing with him +the man that was to administer the poison, who brought it ready +pounded in a cup. And Socrates, on seeing the man, said, 'Well, my +good friend, as you are skilled in these matters, what must I do?' +'Nothing else,' he replied, 'than when you have drunk it walk about, +until there is a heaviness in your legs, then lie down; thus it will +do its purpose.' And at the same time he held out the cup to Socrates. +And he having received it very cheerfully, Echecrates, neither +trembling, nor changing at all in colour or countenance, but, as he +was wont, looking steadfastly at the man, said, 'what say you of this +potion, with respect to making a libation to anyone, is it lawful or +not?' 'We only pound so much, Socrates,' he said, 'as we think +sufficient to drink.' 'I understand you,' he said, 'but it is +certainly both lawful and right to pray to the gods that my departure +hence thither may be happy; which therefore I pray, and so {140} may +it be.' And as he said this he drank it off readily and calmly. Thus +far, most of us were with difficulty able to restrain ourselves from +weeping, but when we saw him drinking, and having finished the +draught, we could do so no longer; but in spite of myself the tears +came in full torrent, so that, covering my face, I wept for myself, +for I did not weep for him, but for my own fortune, in being deprived +of such a friend. But Crito, even before me, when he could not +restrain his tears, had risen up. But Apollodorus even before this had +not ceased weeping, and then, bursting into an agony of grief, weeping +and lamenting, he pierced the heart of everyone present, except +Socrates himself. But he said. 'What are you doing, my admirable +friends? I indeed, for this reason chiefly, sent away the women, that +they might not commit any folly of this kind. For I have heard that it +is right to die with good omens. Be quiet, therefore, and bear up.' + +"When we heard this we were ashamed, and restrained our tears. But he, +having walked about, when he said that his legs were growing heavy, +lay down on his back; for the man so directed him. And at the same +time he who gave him the poison, taking hold of him, after a short +interval examined his feet and legs; and then having pressed his foot +hard, he asked if he felt it; he said that he did not. And after this +he pressed his thighs; and thus going higher he showed us that he was +growing cold and stiff. Then Socrates touched himself, and said that +when the poison reached his heart he should then depart. But now the +parts around the lower belly were almost cold; when uncovering +himself, for he had been covered over, he said; and they were his +{141} last words. 'Crito, we owe a cock to AEsculapius; pay it, +therefore, and do not neglect it.' 'It shall be done,' said Crito, +'but consider whether you have anything else to say.' + +"To this question he gave no reply; but shortly after he gave a +convulsive movement, and the man covered him, and his eyes were fixed, +and Crito, perceiving it, closed his mouth and eyes. + +"This, Echecrates, was the end of our friend, a man, as we may say, +the best of all of his time that we have known, and moreover, the most +wise and just." + +Our knowledge of the teaching of Socrates is derived chiefly from two +sources, Plato and Xenophon, for the peculiarities of each of whom +allowances must be made. Plato in his dialogues makes Socrates the +mouthpiece of his own teaching, consequently the majority of the +tenets to which Socrates is made to give expression are purely +Platonic doctrines of which the historical Socrates could never even +have dreamed. It might, therefore, seem at first sight that there is +no possibility of ascertaining from Plato's dialogues any trustworthy +account of the ideas of Socrates. But on closer inspection this does +not turn out to be correct, because the earlier dialogues of Plato +were written before he had developed his own philosophy, and when he +was, to all intents and purposes, simply a disciple of Socrates, bent +only upon giving the best expression to the Socratic doctrine. Even in +these Socratic dialogues, however, we have what is no doubt an +idealized portrait of Socrates. Plato makes no pretence of being +merely a biographer or historian. The incidents and conversation, +although they are no doubt frequently founded upon facts, are, in the +{142} main, imaginary. All we can say is that they contain the gist +and substance of the philosophy of Socrates. The other source, +Xenophon, also has his peculiarities. If Plato was an idealizing +philosopher, Xenophon was a prosaic and matter of fact man of affairs. +He was a plain, honest soldier. He had no great insight into any +philosophy, Socratic or otherwise. He was not attached to Socrates +primarily as a philosopher, but as an admirer of his character and +personality. If Plato puts the teaching of Socrates too high, Xenophon +puts it too low. But, in spite of this, Xenophon's Memorabilia +contains a mass of valuable information both about the life and the +philosophical ideas of Socrates. + +The Socratic teaching is essentially ethical in character. In this +alone did Socrates bear any resemblance to the Sophists. It was the +Sophists who had introduced into Greek philosophy the problem of man, +and of the duties of man. And to these problems Socrates also turns +his exclusive attention. He brushes aside all questions as to the +origin of the world, or the nature of the ultimate reality, of which +we have heard so much in the philosophies of the earlier thinkers. +Socrates openly deprecated such speculations and considered all such +knowledge comparatively worthless as against ethical knowledge, the +knowledge of man. Mathematics, physics, and astronomy, he thought, +were not valuable forms of knowledge. He said that he never went for +walks outside the city, because there is nothing to be learnt from +fields and trees. + +Nevertheless the ethical teaching of Socrates was founded upon a +theory of knowledge, which is quite simple, but extremely important. +The Sophists had founded knowledge upon perception, with the result +{143} that all objective standards of truth had been destroyed. It was +the work of Socrates to found knowledge upon reason, and thereby to +restore to truth its objectivity. Briefly, the theory of Socrates may +be summarized by saying that he taught that _all knowledge is knowledge +through concepts_. What is a concept? When we are directly conscious of +the presence of any particular thing, a man, a tree, a house, or a +star, such consciousness is called perception. When, shutting our +eyes, we frame a mental picture of such an object, such consciousness +is called an image or representation. Such mental images are, like +perceptions, always ideas of particular individual objects. But +besides these ideas of individual objects, whether through +sense-perception or imagination, we have also general ideas, that is +to say, not ideas of any particular thing, but ideas of whole classes +of things. If I say "Socrates is mortal," I am thinking of the +individual, Socrates. But if I say "Man is mortal," I am thinking, not +of any particular man, but of the class of men in general. Such an +idea is called a general idea, or a concept. All class-names, such as +man, tree, house, river, animal, horse, being, which stand, not for +one thing, but for a multitude of things, represent concepts. We form +these general ideas by including in them all the qualities which the +whole class of objects has in common, and excluding from them all the +qualities in which they differ, that is to say, the qualities which +some of the objects possess, but others do not. For example, I cannot +include the quality whiteness in my general idea of horses, because, +though some horses are white, others are not. But I can include the +quality vertebrate because all horses agree in being vertebrate. Thus +a {144} concept is formed by bringing together the ideas in which all +the members of a class of objects agree with one another, and +neglecting the ideas in which they differ. + +Now reason is the faculty of concepts. This may not, at first sight, +be obvious. Reason, it might be objected, is the faculty of arguing, +of drawing conclusions from premises. But a little consideration will +show us that, though this is so, yet all reasoning is employed upon +concepts. All reasoning is either deductive or inductive. Induction +consists in the formulation of general principles from particular +cases. A general principle is always a statement made, not about a +particular thing, but about a whole class of things, that is, about a +concept. Concepts are formed inductively by comparing numerous +examples of a class. Deductive reasoning is always the opposite +process of applying general principles to particular cases. If we +argue that Socrates must be mortal because all men are so, the +question is whether Socrates is a man, that is to say, whether the +concept, man, is properly applied to the particular object called +Socrates. Thus inductive reasoning is concerned with the formation of +concepts, deductive reasoning with the application of them. + +Socrates, in placing all knowledge in concepts, was thus making reason +the organ of knowledge. This was in direct opposition to the principle +of the Sophists, who placed all knowledge in sense-perception. Now +since reason is the universal element in man, it follows that +Socrates, in identifying knowledge with concepts, was restoring the +belief in an objective truth, valid for all men, and binding upon all +men, and was destroying the Sophistic teaching that the truth is +whatever each {145} individual chooses to think it is. We shall see +this more clearly if we reflect that a concept is the same thing as a +definition. If we wish to define any word, for example, the word man, +we must include in our definition only the qualities which all men +have in common. We cannot, for example, define man as a white-skinned +animal, because all men are not white-skinned. Similarly we cannot +include "English-speaking" in our definition, because, though some men +speak English, others do not. But we might include such a quality as +"two-legged," because "two-legged" is a quality common to all human +beings, except mere aberrations and distortions of the normal type. +Thus a definition is formed in the same way as a concept, namely, by +including the common qualities of a class of objects, and excluding +the qualities in which the members of the class differ. A definition, +in fact, is merely the expression of a concept in words. Now by the +process of fixing definitions we obtain objective standards of truth. +If, for example, we fix the definition of a triangle, then we can +compare any geometrical figure with it, and say whether it is a +triangle or not. It is no longer open to anyone to declare that +whatever he chooses to call a triangle is a triangle. Similarly, if we +fix upon a definition of the word man, we can then compare any object +with that definition, and say whether it is a man or not. Again, if we +can decide what the proper concept of virtue is, then the question +whether any particular act is virtuous can only be decided by +comparing that act with the concept, and seeing if they agree. The +Sophist can no longer say, "whatever seems to me right, is right for +me. Whatever I choose to do is virtuous for me." His act must be +judged, not by {146} his subjective impressions, but by the concept or +definition, which is thus an objective standard of truth, independent +of the individual. This, then, was the theory of knowledge propounded +by Socrates. Knowledge, he said, is not the same thing as the +sensations of the individual, which would mean that each individual +can name as the truth whatever he pleases. Knowledge means knowledge +of things as they objectively are, independently of the individual, +and such knowledge is knowledge of the concepts of things. Therefore +the philosophizing of Socrates consisted almost exclusively in trying +to frame proper concepts. He went about enquiring, "What is virtue?" +"What is prudence?" "What is temperance?"--meaning thereby "what are +the true concepts or definitions of these things?" In this way he +attempted to find a basis for believing in an objectively real truth +and an objectively real moral law. + +His method of forming concepts was by induction. He would take common +examples of actions which are universally admitted to be prudent, and +would attempt to find the quality which they all have in common, and +by virtue of which they are all classed together, and so form the +concept of prudence. Then he would bring up fresh examples, and see +whether they agreed with the concept so formed. If not, the concept +might have to be corrected in the light of the new examples. + +But the Socratic theory of knowledge was not a theory put forward for +its own sake, but for practical ends. Socrates always made theory +subservient to practice. He wanted to know what the concept of virtue +is, only in order to practise virtue in life. And this brings us to +the central point of the ethical teaching of Socrates, {147} which was +the identification of virtue with knowledge. Socrates believed that a +man cannot act rightly, unless he first knows what is right, unless, +in fact, he knows the concept of right. Moral action is thus founded +upon knowledge, and must spring from it. But not only did Socrates +think that if a man has not knowledge, he cannot do right. He also put +forward the much more doubtful assertion that if a man possesses +knowledge, he cannot do wrong. All wrong-doing arises from ignorance. +If a man only knows what is right, he must and will infallibly do what +is right. All men seek the good, but men differ as to what the good +is. "No man," said Socrates, "intentionally does wrong." He does +wrong, because he does not know the true concept of right, and being +ignorant, thinks that what he is doing is good. "If a man intentionally +does wrong," said Socrates again, "he is better than a man who does so +unintentionally." For the former has in him the essential condition of +goodness, knowledge of what goodness is, but the latter, lacking that +knowledge, is hopeless. + +Aristotle, in commenting upon this whole doctrine, observed that +Socrates had ignored or forgotten the irrational parts of the soul. +Socrates imagined that everybody's actions are governed solely by +reason, and that therefore if only they reasoned aright, they must do +right. He forgot that the majority of men's actions are governed by +passions and emotions, "the irrational parts of the soul." Aristotle's +criticism of Socrates is unanswerable. All experience shows that men +do deliberately do wrong, that, knowing well what is right, they +nevertheless do wrong. But it is easy to see why Socrates made this +mistake; he was arguing only from {148} his own case. Socrates really +does appear to have been above human weakness. He was not guided by +passions, but by reason, and it followed as the night follows the day, +that if Socrates knew what was right, he did it. He was unable to +understand how men, knowing the right, could yet do the wrong. If they +are vicious, he thought, it must be because they do not know what is +right. The criticism of Aristotle is thus justified. Yet for all that, +the theory of Socrates is not to be too quickly brushed aside. There +is more truth in it than appears at first sight. We say that a man +believes one thing and does another. Yet it is a matter of question +what a man really believes, and what is the test of his belief. Men go +to church every Sunday, and there repeat formulas and prayers, of +which the main idea is that all earthly riches are worthless in +comparison with spiritual treasures. Such men, if asked, might tell us +that they believe this to be true. They believe that they believe it. +And yet in actual life, perhaps, they seek only for earthly riches, +and behave as if they thought these the supreme good. What do such men +really believe? Do they believe as they speak, or as they act? Is it +not at least arguable that they are really pursuing what they believe +to be good, and that, if they were genuinely convinced of the +superiority of spiritual treasures, they would seek them, and not +material riches? This at least is what Socrates thought. All men seek +the good, but the many do not know what the good is. There is +certainly truth in this in many cases, though in others there can be +no doubt that men do deliberately what they know to be evil. + +There are two other characteristic Socratic propositions {149} which +flow from the same general idea, that virtue is identical with +knowledge. The first is, that virtue can be taught. We do not +ordinarily think that virtue can be taught like arithmetic. We think +that virtue depends upon a number of factors, prominent among which +are the inborn disposition of a man, heredity, environment, modified +to some extent by education, practice, and habit. The consequence is +that a man's character does not change very much as he grows older. By +constant practice, by continual self-control, a man may, to some +extent, make himself better, but on the whole, what he is he remains. +The leopard, we say, does not change his spots. But as, for Socrates, +the sole condition of virtue is knowledge, and as knowledge is just +what can be imparted by teaching, it followed that virtue must be +teachable. The only difficulty is to find the teacher, to find some +one who knows the concept of virtue. What the concept of virtue +is--that is, thought Socrates, the precious piece of knowledge, which +no philosopher has ever discovered, and which, if it were only +discovered, could at once be imparted by teaching, whereupon men would +at once become virtuous. + +The other Socraticism is that "virtue is one." We talk of many +virtues, temperance, prudence, foresight, benevolence, kindness, etc. +Socrates believed that all these particular virtues flowed from the +one source, knowledge. Therefore knowledge itself, that is to say, +wisdom, is the sole virtue, and this includes all the others. + +This completes the exposition of the positive teaching of Socrates. It +only remains for us to consider what position Socrates holds in the +history of thought. There are two sides of the Socratic teaching. In +the first {150} place, there is the doctrine of knowledge, that all +knowledge is through concepts. This is the scientific side of the +philosophy of Socrates. Secondly, there is his ethical teaching. Now +the essential and important side of Socrates is undoubtedly the +scientific theory of concepts. It is this which gives him his position +in the history of philosophy. His ethical ideas, suggestive as they +were, were yet all tainted with the fallacy that men are governed only +by reason. Hence they have exercised no great influence on the history +of thought. But the theory of concepts worked a revolution in +philosophy. Upon a development of it is founded the whole of Plato's +philosophy, and, through Plato, the philosophy of Aristotle, and, +indeed, all subsequent idealism. The immediate effect of this theory, +however, was the destruction of the teaching of the Sophists. The +Sophists taught the doctrine that truth is sense-perception, and as +the perceptions of different individuals differ in regard to the same +object, it followed that truth became a matter of taste with the +individual. This undermined all belief in truth as an objective +reality, and, by similar reasoning, faith in the objectivity of the +moral law was also destroyed. The essential position of Socrates is +that of a restorer of faith. His greatness lay in the fact that he saw +that the only way to combat the disastrous results of the Sophistic +teaching was to refute the fundamental assumption from which all that +teaching flowed, the assumption, namely, that knowledge is perception. +Against this, therefore, Socrates opposed the doctrine that knowledge +is through concepts. To base knowledge upon concepts is to base it +upon the universality of reason, and therefore to restore it from the +{151} position of a subjective seeming to that of an objective +reality. + +But though Socrates is thus a restorer of faith, we must not imagine +that his thought is therefore a mere retrogression to the intellectual +condition of pre-Sophistic times. It was, on the contrary, an advance +beyond the Sophists. We have here, in fact, an example of what is the +normal development of all thought, whether in the individual or the +race. The movement of thought exhibits three stages. The first stage +is positive belief, not founded upon reason; it is merely conventional +belief. At the second stage thought becomes destructive and sceptical. +It denies what was affirmed in the previous stage. The third stage is +the restoration of positive belief now founded upon the concept, upon +reason, and not merely upon custom. Before the time of the Sophists, +men took it for granted that truth and goodness are objective +realities; nobody specially affirmed it, because nobody denied it. It +seemed obvious. It was, thus, not believed on rational grounds, but +through custom and habit. This, the first stage of thought, we may +call the era of simple faith. When the Sophists came upon the scene, +they brought reason and thought to bear upon what had hitherto been +accepted as a matter of course, namely law, custom, and authority. The +first encroachment of reason upon simple faith is always destructive, +and hence the Sophists undermined all ideals of goodness and truth. +Socrates is the restorer of these ideals, but with him they are no +longer the ideals of simple faith; they are the ideals of reason. They +are based upon reason. Socrates substituted comprehending belief for +unintelligent assent. We may contrast him, in this {152} respect, with +Aristophanes. Aristophanes, the conservative, the believer in the +"good old times," saw, as clearly as Socrates, the disastrous effects +worked by the Sophists upon public morals. But the remedy he proposed +was a violent return to the "good old times." Since it was thought +which worked these ill effects, thought must be suppressed. We must go +back to simple faith. But simple faith, once destroyed by thought, +never returns either to the individual, or to the race. This can no +more happen than a man can again become a child. There is only one +remedy for the ills of thought, and that is, more thought. If thought, +in its first inroads, leads, as it always does, to scepticism and +denial, the only course is, not to suppress thought, but to found +faith upon it. This was the method of Socrates, and it is the method, +too, of all great spirits. They are not frightened of shadows. They +have faith in reason. If reason leads them into the darkness, they do +not scuttle back in fright. They advance till the light comes again. +They are false teachers who counsel us to give no heed to the +promptings of reason, if reason brings doubt into our beliefs. Thought +cannot be thus suppressed. Reason has rights upon us as rational +beings. We cannot go back. We must go on, and make our beliefs +rational. We must found them upon the concept, as Socrates did. +Socrates did not deny the principle of the Sophists that all +institutions, all ideals, all existing and established things must +justify themselves before the tribunal of reason. He accepted this +without question. He took up the challenge of thought, and won the +battle of reason in his day. + +The Sophists brought to light the principle of subjectivity, the +principle that the truth must be _my_ truth, {153} and the right _my_ +right. They must be the products of my own thinking, not standards +forcibly imposed upon me from without. But the mistake of the Sophists +was to imagine that the truth must be mine, merely in my capacity as a +percipient creature of sense, which means that I have a private truth +of my own. Socrates corrected this by admitting that the truth must be +my truth, but mine in my capacity as a rational being, which means, +since reason is the universal, that it is not my private truth, but +universal truth which is shared by and valid for all rational beings. +Truth is thus established as being not mere subjective appearance, but +objective reality, independent of the sensations, whims, and self-will +of the individual. The whole period of Socrates and the Sophists is +full of instruction. Its essential lesson is that to deny the +supremacy of reason, to set up any other process of consciousness +above reason, must inevitably end in scepticism and the denial of the +objectivity of truth and morality. Many theosophists and others, at +the present day, teach the doctrine of what they call "intuition." The +supreme kind of religious knowledge, they think, is to be reached by +intuition, which is conceived as something higher than reason. But +this is simply to make the mistake of Protagoras over again. It is +true that this so-called intuition is not merely sense-perception, as +was the case with Protagoras. It is, however, a form of immediate +spiritual perception. It is immediate apprehension of the object as +being present to me, as having _thereness_. It is therefore of the +nature of perception. It is spiritual and super-sensuous, as opposed +to material and sensuous, perception. But it makes no difference at +all whether perception is sensuous {154} or super-sensuous. To place +the truth in any sort of perception is, in principle, to do as +Protagoras did, to yield oneself up a helpless prey to the subjective +impressions of the individual. I intuit one thing; another man intuits +the opposite. What I intuit must be true for me, what he intuits true +for him. For we have denied reason, we have placed it below intuition, +and have thereby discarded that which alone can subject the varying +impressions of each individual to the rule of a universal and +objective standard. The logical conclusion is that, since each man's +intuition is true for him, there is no such thing as an objective +truth. Nor can there be such a thing, in these circumstances, as an +objective goodness. Thus the theory must end in total scepticism and +darkness. The fact that theosophists do not, as a matter of fact, draw +these sceptical conclusions, simply means that they are not as +clear-headed and logical as Protagoras was. + +{155} + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SEMI-SOCRATICS + +Upon the death of Socrates there ensued a phenomenon which is not +infrequent in the history of thought. A great and many-sided +personality combines in himself many conflicting tendencies and ideas. +Let us take an example, not, however, from the sphere of intellect, +but from the sphere of practical life. We often say that it is +difficult to reconcile mercy and justice. Among the many small +personalities, one man follows only the ideal of mercy, and as his +mercy has not in it the stern stuff of justice, it degenerates into +mawkishness and sentimental humanitarianism. Another man follows only +the ideal of justice, forgetting mercy, and he becomes harsh and +unsympathetic. It takes a greater man, a larger personality, +harmoniously to combine the two. And as it is in the sphere of +practical life, so it is in the arena of thought and philosophy. A +great thinker is not he who seizes upon a single aspect of the truth, +and pushes that to its extreme limit, but the man who combines, in one +many-sided system, all the varying and conflicting sides of truth. By +emphasizing one thought, by being obsessed by a single idea and +pushing it to its logical conclusion, regardless of the other aspects +of the truth, one may indeed achieve a considerable local and {156} +temporary reputation; because such a procedure often leads to striking +paradoxes, to strange and seemingly uncommon conclusions. The +reputations of such men as Nietzsche, Bernard Shaw, Oscar Wilde, are +made chiefly in this way. But upon the death of a great all-embracing +personality, just because his thought is a combination of so many +divergent truths, we often find that it splits up into its component +parts, each of which gives rise to a one-sided school of thought. The +disciples, being smaller men, are not able to grasp the great man's +thought in its wholeness and many-sidedness. Each disciple seizes upon +that portion of his master's teaching which has most in common with +his own temperament, and proceeds to erect this one incomplete idea +into a philosophy, treating the part as if it were the whole. This is +exactly what happened after the death of Socrates. Only one man among +his disciples was able to grasp the whole of his teaching, and +understand the whole of his personality, and that was Plato. Among the +lesser men who were the followers and personal friends of Socrates, +there were three who founded schools of philosophy, each partial and +one-sided, but each claiming to be the exponent of the true +Socraticism. Antisthenes founded the Cynic school, Aristippus the +Cyrenaic, and Euclid the Megaric. + +Now, of the two aspects of the Socratic philosophy, the theory of +concepts, and the ethical theory, it is easy for us, looking back upon +history, to see which it was that influenced the history of thought +most, and which, therefore, was the most important. But the men of his +own time could not see this. What they fastened upon was the obvious +aspect of Socrates, his ethics, and above all the ethical teaching +which was expressed, not so {157} much in abstract ideas, as in the +life and personality of the master. Both this life and this teaching +might be summed up in the thought that virtue is the sole end of life, +that, as against virtue, all else in the world, comfort, riches, +learning, is comparatively worthless. It is this, then, that virtue is +the sole end of life, which forms the point of agreement between all +the three semi-Socratic schools. We have now to see upon what points +they diverge from one another. + +If virtue is the sole end of life, what precisely is virtue? Socrates +had given no clear answer to this question. The only definition he had +given was that virtue is knowledge, but upon examination it turns out +that this is not a definition at all. Virtue is knowledge, but +knowledge of what? It is not knowledge of astronomy, of mathematics, +or of physics. It is ethical knowledge, that is to say, knowledge of +virtue. To define virtue as the knowledge of virtue is to think in a +circle, and gets us no further in the enquiry what virtue is. But +Socrates, as a matter of fact, did not think in a circle. He did not +mean that virtue is knowledge, although his doctrine is often, +somewhat misleadingly, stated in that form. What he meant was--quite a +different thing--that virtue _depends upon_ knowledge. It is the first +condition of virtue. The principle, accurately stated, is, not that +virtue is the knowledge of virtue, which is thinking in a circle, but +that virtue depends upon the knowledge of virtue, which is quite +straight thinking. Only if you know what virtue is can you be +virtuous. Hence we have not here any definition of virtue, or any +attempt to define it. We are still left with the question, "what is +virtue?" unanswered. + +{158} + +No doubt this was due in part to the unmethodical and unsystematic +manner in which Socrates developed his thought, and this, in its turn, +was due to his conversational style of philosophizing. For it is not +possible to develop systematic thinking in the course of casual +conversations. But in part, too, it was due to the very universality +of the man's genius. He was broad enough to realize that it is not +possible to tie down virtue in any single narrow formula, which shall +serve as a practical receipt for action in all the infinitely various +circumstances of life. So that, in spite of the fact that his whole +principle lay in the method of definitions, Socrates, in fact, left +his followers without any definition of the supreme concept of his +philosophy, virtue. It was upon this point, therefore, that the +followers of Socrates disagreed. They all agreed that virtue is the +sole end of life, but they developed different ideas as to what sort +of life is in fact virtuous. + + + +The Cynics. + +Antisthenes, the founder of the Cynic School, repeated the familiar +propositions that virtue is founded upon knowledge, is teachable, and +is one. But what aroused the admiration of Antisthenes was not +Socrates, the man of intellect, the man of science, the philosopher, +but Socrates, the man of independent character, who followed his own +notions of right with complete indifference to the opinions of others. +This independence was in fact merely a by-product of the Socratic +life. Socrates had been independent of all earthly goods and +possessions, caring neither for riches nor for applause, only because +his heart was set upon a greater treasure, the acquisition of wisdom. +Mere independence and indifference to the {159} opinions of others +were not for him ends in themselves. He did not make fetishes of them. +But the Cynics interpreted his teaching to mean that the independence +of earthly pleasures and possessions is in itself the end and object +of life. This, in fact, was their definition of virtue, complete +renunciation of everything that, for ordinary men, makes life worth +living, absolute asceticism, and rigorous self-mortification. +Socrates, again, thinking that the only knowledge of supreme value is +ethical knowledge, had exhibited a tendency to disparage other kinds +of knowledge. This trait the Cynics exaggerated into a contempt for +all art and learning so great as frequently to amount to ignorance and +boorishness. "Virtue is sufficient for happiness," said Antisthenes, +"and for virtue nothing is requisite but the strength of a Socrates; +it is a matter of action, and does not require many words, or much +learning." The Cynic ideal of virtue is thus purely negative; it is +the absence of all desire, freedom from all wants, complete +independence of all possessions. Many of them refused to own houses or +any dwelling place, and wandered about as vagrants and beggars. +Diogenes, for the same reason, lived in a tub. Socrates, following +single-heartedly what he knew to be good, cared nothing what the +vulgar said. But this indifference to the opinion of others was, like +his independence of possessions, not an end in itself. He did not +interpret it to mean that he was wantonly to offend public opinion. +But the Cynics, to show their indifference, flouted public opinion, +and gave frequent and disgusting exhibitions of indecency. + +Virtue, for the Cynics, is alone good. Vice is the only evil. Nothing +else in the world is either good or bad. {160} Everything else is +"indifferent." Property, pleasure, wealth, freedom, comfort, even life +itself, are not to be regarded as goods. Poverty, misery, illness, +slavery, and death itself, are not to be regarded as evils. It is no +better to be a freeman than a slave, for if the slave have virtue, he +is in himself free, and a born ruler. Suicide is not a crime, and a +man may destroy his life, not however to escape from misery and pain +(for these are not ills), but to show that for him life is +indifferent. And as the line between virtue and vice is absolutely +definite, so is the distinction between the wise man and the fool. All +men are divided into these two classes. There is no middle term +between them. Virtue being one and indivisible, either a man possesses +it whole or does not possess it at all. In the former case he is a +wise man, in the latter case a fool. The wise man possesses all +virtue, all knowledge, all wisdom, all happiness, all perfection. The +fool possesses all evil, all misery, all imperfection. + + + +The Cyrenaics. + +For the Cyrenaics, too, virtue is, at least formally, the sole object +of life. It is only formally, however, because they give to virtue a +definition which robbed it of all meaning. Socrates had not +infrequently recommended virtue on account of the advantages which it +brings. Virtue, he said, is the sole path to happiness, and he had not +refrained from holding out happiness as a motive for virtue. This did +not mean, however, that he did not recognize a man's duty to do the +right for its own sake, and not for the sake of the advantage it +brings. "Honesty," we say, "is the best policy," {161} but we do not +mean thereby to deny that it is the duty of men to be honest even if +it is not, in some particular case, the best policy. Socrates, +however, had not been very clear upon these points, and had been +unable to find any definite basis for morality, other than that of +happiness. It was this side of his teaching which Aristippus now +pressed to its logical conclusions, regardless of all other claims. +Doubtless virtue is the sole end of life, but the sole end of virtue +is one's own advantage, that is to say, pleasure. One may as well say +at once that the sole end of life is pleasure. + +The influence of Protagoras and the Sophists also played its part in +moulding the thought of Aristippus. Protagoras had denied the +objectivity of truth, and the later Sophists had applied the same +theory to morals. Each man is a law unto himself. There is no moral +code binding upon the individual against his own wishes. Aristippus +combined this with his doctrine of pleasure. Pleasure being the sole +end of life, no moral law externally imposed can invalidate its +absolute claims. Nothing is wicked, nothing evil, provided only it +satisfies the individual's thirst for pleasure. + +Whether such a philosophy will lead, in practice, to the complete +degradation of its devotees, depends chiefly upon what sort of +pleasure they have in mind. If refined and intellectual pleasures are +meant, there is no reason why a comparatively good life should not +result. If bodily pleasures are intended, the results are not likely +to be noble. The Cyrenaics by no means wholly ignored the pleasures of +the mind, but they pointed out that feelings of bodily pleasure are +more potent and intense, and it was upon these, therefore, that they +chiefly {162} concentrated their attention. Nevertheless they were +saved from the lowest abysses of sensuality and bestiality by their +doctrine that, in the pursuit of pleasure, the wise man must exercise +prudence. Completely unrestrained pursuit of pleasure leads in fact to +pain and disaster. Pain is that which has to be avoided. Therefore the +wise man will remain always master of himself, will control his +desires, and postpone a more urgent to a less urgent desire, if +thereby in the end more pleasure and less pain will accrue to him. The +Cyrenaic ideal of the wise man is the man of the world, bent indeed +solely upon pleasure, restrained by no superstitious scruples, yet +pursuing his end with prudence, foresight, and intelligence. Such +principles would, of course, admit of various interpretations, +according to the temperament of the individual. We may notice two +examples. Anniceris, the Cyrenaic, believed indeed that pleasure is +the sole end, but set such store upon the pleasures that arise from +friendship and family affection, that he admitted that the wise man +should be ready to sacrifice himself for his friends or family--a +gleam of light in the moral darkness. Hegesias, a pessimist, +considered that positive enjoyment is impossible of attainment. In +practice the sole end of life which can be realized is the avoidance +of pain. + + + +The Megarics. + +Euclid of Megara was the founder of this school. His principle was a +combination of Socraticism with Eleaticism. Virtue is knowledge, but +knowledge of what? It is here that the Eleatic influence became +visible. With Parmenides, the Megarics believed in the One Absolute +Being. All multiplicity, all motion, are illusory. {163} the world of +sense has in it no true reality. Only Being is. If virtue is +knowledge, therefore, it can only be the knowledge of this Being. If +the essential concept of Socrates was the Good and the essential +concept of Parmenides Being, Euclid now combined the two. The Good is +identified with Being. Being, the One, God, the Good, divinity, are +merely different names for one and the same thing. Becoming, the many, +Evil, are the names of its opposite, not-being, Multiplicity is thus +identified with evil, and both are declared illusory. Evil has no real +existence. The Good alone truly is. The various virtues, as +benevolence, temperance, prudence, are merely different names for the +one virtue, knowledge of Being. + +Zeno, the Eleatic, had shown that multiplicity and motion are not only +unreal but even impossible, since they are self-contradictory. The +Megarics appropriated this idea, together with the dialectic of Zeno, +and concluded that since not-being is impossible, Being includes all +possibility. Whatever is possible is also actual. There is no such +thing as a possible something, which yet does not exist. + +As the Cynics found virtue in renunciation and negative independence, +the Cyrenaics in the hedonistic pursuit of pleasure, so the Megarics +find it in the life of philosophic contemplation, the knowledge of +Being. + +{164} + + + +CHAPTER XII + +PLATO + +None of the predecessors of Plato had constructed a system of +philosophy. What they had produced, and in great abundance, were +isolated philosophical ideas, theories, hints, and suggestions. Plato +was the first person in the history of the world to produce a great +all-embracing system of philosophy, which has its ramifications in all +departments of thought and reality. In doing this, Plato laid all +previous thought under contribution. He gathered the entire harvest of +Greek philosophy. All that was best in the Pythagoreans, the Eleatics, +Heracleitus, and Socrates, reappears, transfigured in the system of +Plato. But it is not to be imagined, on this account, that Plato was a +mere eclectic, or a plagiarist, who took the best thoughts of others, +and worked them into some sort of a patch-work philosophy of his own. +He was, on the contrary, in the highest degree an original thinker. +But like all great systems of thought, that of Plato grows out of the +thought of previous thinkers. He does indeed appropriate the ideas of +Heracleitus, Parmenides, and Socrates. But he does not leave them as +he finds them. He takes them as the germs of a new development. They +are the foundations, below ground, upon which he builds the palace of +philosophy. In his hands, all previous thought becomes {165} +transfigured under the light of a new and original principle. + + + +1. Life and Writings. + +The exact date of the birth of Plato is a matter of doubt. But the +date usually given, 429-7 B.C. cannot be far wrong. He came of an +aristocratic Athenian family, and was possessed of sufficient wealth +to enable him to command that leisure which was essential for a life +devoted to philosophy. His youth coincided with the most disastrous +period of Athenian history. After a bitter struggle, which lasted over +a quarter of a century, the Peloponnesian war ended in the complete +downfall of Athens as a political power. And the internal affairs of +the State were in no less confusion than the external. Here, as +elsewhere, a triumphant democracy had developed into mob-rule. Then at +the close of the Peloponnesian war, the aristocratic party again came +into power with the Thirty Tyrants, among whom were some of Plato's +own relatives. But the aristocratic party, so far from improving +affairs, plunged at once into a reign of bloodshed, terror, and +oppression. These facts have an important bearing upon the history of +Plato's life. If he ever possessed any desire to adopt a political +career, the actual condition of Athenian affairs must have quenched +it. An aristocrat, both in thought and by birth, he could not +accommodate himself to the rule of the mob. And if he ever imagined +that the return of the aristocracy to power would improve matters, he +must have been bitterly disillusioned by the proceedings of the Thirty +Tyrants. Disgusted alike with the democracy and the aristocracy he +seems to have retired into seclusion. He never once, throughout his +long life, appeared as a {166} speaker in the popular assembly. He +regarded the Athenian constitution as past help. + +Not much is known of the philosopher's youth. He composed poems. He +was given the best education that an Athenian citizen of those days +could obtain. His teacher, Cratylus, was a follower of Heracleitus, +and Plato no doubt learned from him the doctrines of that philosopher. +It is improbable that he allowed himself to remain unacquainted with +the disputations of the Sophists, many of whom were his own +contemporaries. He probably read the book of Anaxagoras, which was +easily obtainable in Athens at the time. But on all these points we +have no certain information. What we do know is that the decisive +event in his youth, and indeed in his life, was his association with +Socrates. + +For the last eight years of the life of Socrates, Plato was his friend +and his faithful disciple. The teaching and personality of the master +constituted the supreme intellectual impulse of his life, and the +inspiration of his entire thought. And the devotion and esteem which +he felt for Socrates, so far from waning as the years went by, seem, +on the contrary, to have grown continually stronger. For it is +precisely in the latest dialogues of his long life that some of the +most charming and admiring portraits of Socrates are to be found. +Socrates became for him the pattern and exemplar of the true +philosopher. + +After the death of Socrates a second period opens in the life of +Plato, the period of his travels. He migrated first to Megara, where +his friend and fellow-disciple Euclid was then founding the Megaric +school. The Megaric philosophy was a combination of the thought of +Socrates with that of the Eleatics. And it was no doubt here, at {167} +Megara, under the influence of Euclid, that Plato formed his deeper +acquaintance with the teaching of Parmenides, which exercised an +all-important influence upon his own philosophy. From Megara he +travelled to Cyrene, Egypt, Italy, and Sicily. In Italy he came in +contact with the Pythagoreans. And to the effects of this journey may +be attributed the strong Pythagorean elements which permeate his +thought. + +In Sicily he attended the court of Dionysius the Elder, tyrant of +Syracuse. But here his conduct seems to have given grave offence. +Dionysius was so angered by his moralizings and philosophical +diatribes that he put Plato up to auction in the slave market. Plato +narrowly escaped the fate of slavery, but was ransomed by Anniceris, +the Cyrenaic. He then returned to Athens, his travels having occupied +a period of about ten years. + +With the return of Plato to Athens we enter upon the third and last +period of his life. With the exception of two journeys to be mentioned +shortly, he never again left Athens. He now appeared for the first +time as a professional teacher and philosopher. He chose for the scene +of his activities a gymnasium, called the Academy. Here he gradually +collected round him a circle of pupils and disciples. For the rest of +his life, a period of about forty years, he occupied himself in +literary activity, and in the management of the school which he had +founded. His manner of life was in strong contrast to that of +Socrates. Only in one respect did he resemble his master. He took no +fees for his teaching. Otherwise the lives of the two great men bear +no resemblance to each other. Socrates had gone out into the highways +and byways in search of wisdom. He had wrangled in {168} the +market-place with all comers. Plato withdrew himself into the +seclusion of a school, protected from the hubbub of the world by a +ring of faithful disciples. It was not to be expected that a man of +Plato's refinement, culture, and aristocratic feelings, should +appreciate, as Socrates, the man of the people, had done, the +rough-and-tumble life of the Athenian market-place. Nor was it +desirable for the advancement of philosophy that it should be so. The +Socratic philosophy had suffered from the Socratic manner of life. It +was unmethodical and inchoate. Systematic thought is not born of +disputes at the street corner. For the development of a great +world-system, such as that of Plato, laborious study and quiet +seclusion were essential. + +This period of Plato's mastership was broken only by two journeys to +Sicily, both undertaken with political objects. Plato knew well that +the perfect State, as depicted in his "Republic," was not capable of +realization in the Greece of his own time. Nevertheless, he took his +political philosophy very seriously. Though the perfect republic was +an unattainable ideal, yet, he thought, any real reform of the State +must at least proceed in the direction of that ideal. One of the +essential principles of the "Republic" was that the rulers must also +be philosophers. Not till philosopher and ruler were combined in one +and the same person could the State be governed upon true principles. +Now, in the year 368 B.C., Dionysius the Elder died, and Dionysius the +younger became tyrant of Syracuse. Dionysius despatched an invitation +to Plato to attend his court and give him the benefit of his advice. +Here was an opportunity to experiment. Plato could train and educate a +{169} philosopher-king. He accepted the invitation. But the expedition +ended disastrously. Dionysius received him with enthusiasm, and +interested himself in the philosophical discourses of his teacher. But +he was young, impetuous, hot-headed, and without genuine philosophic +bent. His first interest gave place to weariness and irritation. Plato +left Syracuse a disappointed man; and returned to Athens. +Nevertheless, after the lapse of a few years, Dionysius again invited +him to Syracuse, and again he accepted the invitation. But the second +journey ended in disaster like the first, and Plato was even in danger +of his life, but was rescued by the intervention of the Pythagoreans. +He returned to Athens in his seventieth year, and lived till his death +in the seclusion of his school, never again attempting to intervene in +practical politics. + +For more than another decade he dwelt and taught in Athens. His life +was serene, quiet, and happy. He died peacefully at the age of +eighty-two. + +Plato's writings take the form of dialogues. In the majority of these, +the chief part is taken by Socrates, into whose mouth Plato puts the +exposition of his own philosophy. In a few, as for example the +"Parmenides," other speakers enunciate the Platonic teaching, but even +in these Socrates always plays an important _role_. Plato was not only +a philosopher, but a consummate literary artist. The dialogues are +genuinely dramatic, enlivened by incident, humour, and life-like +characterization. Not only is the portrait of Socrates drawn with +loving affection, but even the minor characters are flesh and blood. + +A most important element of Plato's style is his use of myths. He does +not always explain his meaning in {170} the form of direct scientific +exposition. He frequently teaches by allegories, fables, and stories, +all of which may be included under the one general appellation of +Platonic myths. These are often of great literary beauty, but in spite +of this they involve grave disadvantages. Plato slips so easily from +scientific exposition into myth, that it is often no easy matter to +decide whether his statements are meant literally or allegorically. +Moreover, the myths usually signify a defect in his thought itself. +The fact is that the combination of poet and philosopher in one man is +an exceedingly dangerous combination. I have explained before that the +object of philosophy is, not merely to feel the truth, as the poet and +mystic feel it, but intellectually to comprehend it, not merely to +give us a series of pictures and metaphors, but a reasoned explanation +of things upon scientific principles. When a man, who is at once a +poet and a philosopher, cannot rationally explain a thing, it is a +terrible temptation to him to substitute poetic metaphors for the +explanation which is lacking. We saw, for example, that the writers of +the Upanishads, who believed that the whole world issues forth from +the one, absolute, imperishable, being, which they called Brahman, +being unable to explain why the One thus differentiates itself into +the many, took refuge in metaphors. As the sparks from the substantial +fire, so, they say, do all finite beings issue forth from the One. But +this explains nothing, and the aim of the philosopher is not thus +vaguely to feel, but rationally to understand. Now this is not merely +my view of the functions of philosophy. It is emphatically Plato's own +view. In fact Plato was the originator of it. He is perpetually +insisting that {171} nothing save full rational comprehension deserves +the names of knowledge and philosophy. No writer has ever used such +contemptuous language as Plato used of the mere mystic and poet, who +says wise and beautiful things, without in the least understanding why +they are wise and beautiful. No man has formed such a low estimate of +the functions of the poet and mystic. Plato is, in theory at least, +the prince of rationalists and intellectualists. In practice, however, +he must be convicted of the very fault he so severely censured in +others. This, in fact, is the explanation of most of the Platonic +myths. Wherever Plato is unable to explain anything, he covers up the +gap in his system with a myth. This is particularly noticeable, for +example, in the "Timaeus." Plato having, in other dialogues, developed +his theory of the nature of the ultimate reality, arrives, in the +"Timaeus," at the problem how the actual world is to be explained from +that ultimate reality. At this point, as we shall see, Plato's system +breaks down. His account of the absolute reality is defective, and in +consequence, it affords no principle whereby the actual universe can +be explained. In the "Timaeus," therefore, instead of a reasoned +explanation, he gives us a series of wholly fanciful myths about the +origin of the world. Wherever we find myths in Plato's dialogues, we +may suspect that we have arrived at one of the weak points of the +system. + +If we are to study Plato intelligently, it is essential that we should +cease to regard the dialogues as if they were all produced _en bloc_ +from a single phase of their author's mind. His literary activity +extended over a period of not less than fifty years. During that time, +he did not stand still. His thought, and his mode of {172} expression, +were constantly developing. If we are to understand Plato, we must +obtain some clue to enable us to trace this development. And this +means that we must know something of the order in which the dialogues +were written. Unfortunately, however, they have not come down to us +dated and numbered. It is a matter of scholarship and criticism to +deduce the period at which any dialogue was written from internal +evidences. Many minor points are still undecided, as well as a few +questions of importance, such as the date of the "Phaedrus," [Footnote +11] which some critics place quite early and some very late in Plato's +life. Neglecting these points, however, we may say in general that +unanimity has been reached, and that we now know enough to be able to +trace the main lines of development. + +[Footnote 11: The same remark applies to the "Symposium," the +"Republic," and the "Theaetetus."] + +The dialogues fall into three main groups, which correspond roughly to +the three periods of Plato's life. Those of the earliest group were +written about the time of the death of Socrates, and before the +author's journey to Megara. Some of them may have been written before +the death of Socrates. This group includes the "Hippias Minor," the +"Lysis," the "Charmides," the "Laches," the "Euthyphro," the +"Apology," the "Crito," and the "Protagoras." The "Protagoras" is the +longest, the most complex in thought, and the most developed. It is +probably the latest, and forms the bridge to the second group. + +All these early dialogues are short and simple, and are still, as +regards their thought, entirely under the influence of Socrates. Plato +has not as yet developed {173} any philosophy of his own. He propounds +the philosophy of Socrates almost unaltered. Even so, however, he is +no mere plagiarist. There are throughout these dialogues evidences of +freshness and originality, but these qualities exhibit themselves +rather in the literary form than in the philosophical substance. We +find here all the familiar Socratic propositions, that virtue is +knowledge, is one, is teachable; that all men seek the good, but that +men differ as to what the good is; that a man who does wrong +deliberately is better than a man who does it unintentionally; and so +on. Moreover, just as Socrates had occupied himself in attempting to +fix the concepts of the virtues, asking "what is prudence?", "what is +temperance?", and the like, so in many of these dialogues Plato +pursues similar inquiries. The "Lysis" discusses the concept of +friendship, the "Charmides" of temperance, the "Laches" of bravery. On +the whole, the philosophical substance of these early writings is thin +and meagre. There is a preponderance of incident and much biographical +detail regarding Socrates. There is more art than matter. +Consequently, from a purely literary point of view, these are among +the most charming of Plato's dialogues, and many of them, such as the +"Apology" and the "Crito," are especially popular with those who care +for Plato rather as an artist than as a philosopher. + +The second group of dialogues is generally connected with the period +of Plato's travels. In addition to the influence of Socrates, we have +now the influence of the Eleatics, which naturally connects these +dialogues with the period of the philosopher's sojourn at Megara. But +it is in these dialogues, too, that Plato for the first time {174} +develops his own special philosophical thesis. This is in fact his +great constructive period. The central and governing principle of his +philosophy is the theory of Ideas. All else hinges on this, and is +dominated by this. In a sense, his whole philosophy is nothing but the +theory of Ideas and what depends upon it. It is in this second period +that the theory of Ideas is founded and developed, and its +relationship to the Eleatic philosophy of Being discussed. We have +here the spectacle of Plato's most original thoughts in the pangs of +childbirth. He is now at grips with the central problems of +philosophy. He is intent upon the thought itself, and cares little for +the ornaments of style. He is struggling to find expression for ideas +newly-formed in his mind, of which he is not yet completely master, +and which he cannot manipulate with ease. Consequently, the literary +graces of the first period recede into the background. There is little +incident, and no humour. There is nothing but close reasoning, hard +and laborious discussion. + +The twin dialogues, "Gorgias" and "Theaetetus" are probably the +earliest of this group. They result in nothing very definite, and are +chiefly negative in character. Plato is here engaged merely in a +preparatory clearing of the ground. The "Gorgias" discusses and +refutes the Sophistic identification of virtue and pleasure, and +attempts to show, as against it, that the good must be something +objectively existent, and independent of the pleasure of the +individual. The "Theaetetus," similarly, shows that truth is not, as +the Sophists thought, merely the subjective impression of the +individual, but is something objectively true in itself. The other +{175} dialogues of the group are the "Sophist," the "Statesman," and +the "Parmenides." The "Sophist" discusses Being and not-being, and +their relationship to the theory of Ideas. The "Parmenides" inquires +whether the absolute reality is to be regarded, in the manner of the +Eleatics, as an abstract One. It gives us, therefore, Plato's +conception of the relation of his own philosophy to Eleaticism. + +The dialogues of the third group are the work of Plato's maturity. He +has now completely mastered his thought, and turns it with ease in all +directions. Hence the style returns to the lucidity and purity of the +first period. If the first period was marked chiefly by literary +grace, the second by depth of thought, the third period combines both. +The perfect substance is now moulded in the perfect form. But a +peculiarity of all the dialogues of this period is that they take it +for granted that the theory of Ideas is already established and +familiar to the reader. They proceed to apply it to all departments of +thought. The second period was concerned with the formulation and +proof of the theory of Ideas, the third period undertakes its +systematic application. Thus the "Symposium," which has for its +subject the metaphysic of love, attempts to connect man's feeling for +beauty with the intellectual knowledge of the Ideas. The "Philebus" +applies the theory of Ideas to the sphere of ethics, the "Timaeus" to +the sphere of physics, and the "Republic" to the sphere of politics. +The "Phaedo" founds the doctrine of the immortality of the soul upon +the theory of Ideas. The "Phaedrus" is probably to be grouped with the +"Symposium." The beauty, grace, and lucidity of the style, and the +fact that it assumes throughout that {176} the theory of Ideas is a +thing established, lead us to the belief that it belongs to the period +of Plato's maturity. Zeller's theory that it was written at the +beginning of the second period, and is then offered to the reader as a +sort of sweetmeat to induce him to enter upon the laborious task of +reading the "Sophist," the "Statesman," and the "Parmenides," seems to +be far-fetched and unnecessary. [Footnote 12] + +[Footnote 12: Zeller's _Plato and the Older Academy_, chap. iii.] + +If the second is the great constructive period of Plato's life, the +third may be described as his systematic and synthetic period. Every +part of his philosophy is here linked up with every other part. All +the details of the system are seen to flow from the one central +principle of his thought, the theory of Ideas. Every sphere of +knowledge and being is in turn exhibited in the light of that +principle, is permeated and penetrated by it. + +The plan for expounding Plato which first suggests itself is to go +through the dialogues, one by one, and extract the doctrine of each +successively. But this suggestion has to be given up as soon as it is +mentioned. For although the philosophy of Plato is in itself a +systematic and coherent body of thought, he did not express it in a +systematic way. On the contrary, he scatters his ideas in all +directions. He throws them out at random in any order. What logically +comes first often appears last. It may be found at the end of a +dialogue, and the next step in reasoning may make its appearance at +the beginning, or even in a totally different dialogue. If, therefore, +we are to get any connected view of the system, we must abandon +Plato's own order of exposition, and piece the thought together for +ourselves. We must begin {177} with what logically comes first, +wherever we may find it, and proceed with the exposition in the same +manner. + +A similar difficulty attends the question of the division of Plato's +philosophy. He himself has given us no single and certain principle of +division. But the principle usually adopted divides his philosophy +into Dialectic, Physics, and Ethics. Dialectic, or the theory of +Ideas, is Plato's doctrine of the nature of the absolute reality. +Physics is the theory of phenomenal existence in space and time, and +includes therefore the doctrine of the soul and its migrations, since +these are happenings in time. Ethics includes politics, the theory of +the duty of man as a citizen, as well as the ethics of the individual. +Certain portions of the system, the doctrine of Eros, for example, do +not fall very naturally into any of these divisions. But, on the other +hand, though some dialogues are mixed as to their subject matter, +others, and those the most important, fall almost exclusively into one +or other division. For example, the "Timaeus," the "Phaedo," and the +"Phaedrus," are physical. The "Philebus," the "Gorgias," and the +"Republic," are ethical. The "Theaetetus," the "Sophist," and the +"Parmenides," are dialectical. + + + +2. The Theory of Knowledge. + +The theory of Ideas is itself based upon the theory of knowledge. What +is knowledge? What is truth? Plato opens the discussion by telling us +first what knowledge and truth are not. His object here is the +refutation of false theories. These must be disposed of to clear the +ground preparatory to positive exposition. The first such false theory +which he attacks is that knowledge {178} is perception. To refute this +is the main object of the "Theaetetus." His arguments may be +summarized as follows:-- + +(1) That knowledge is perception is the theory of Protagoras and the +Sophists, and we have seen to what results it leads. What it amounts +to is that what appears to each individual true is true for that +individual. But this is at any rate false in its application to our +judgment of future events. The frequent mistakes which men make about +the future show this. It may appear to me that I shall be Chief +Justice next year. But instead of that, I find myself, perhaps, in +prison. In general, what appears to each individual to be the truth +about the future frequently does not turn out so in the event. + +(2) Perception yields contradictory impressions. The same object +appears large when near, small when removed to a distance. Compared +with some things it is light, with others heavy. In one light it is +white, in another green, and in the dark it has no colour at all. +Looked at from one angle this piece of paper seems square, from +another it appears to be a rhombus. Which of all these impressions is +true? To know which is true, we must be able to exercise a choice +among these varying impressions, to prefer one to another, to +discriminate, to accept this and reject that. But if knowledge is +perception, then we have no right to give one perception preference +over another. For all perceptions are knowledge. All are true. + +(3) This doctrine renders all teaching, all discussion, proof, or +disproof, impossible. Since all perceptions are equally true, the +child's perceptions must be just as much the truth as those of his +teachers. His teachers, {179} therefore, can teach him nothing. As to +discussion and proof, the very fact that two people dispute about +anything implies that they believe in the existence of an objective +truth. Their impressions, if they contradict each other, cannot both +be true. For if so, there is nothing to dispute about. Thus all proof +and refutation are rendered futile by the theory of Protagoras. + +(4) If perception is truth, man is the measure of all things, in his +character as a percipient being. But since animals are also percipient +beings, the lowest brute must be, equally with man, the measure of all +things. + +(5) The theory of Protagoras contradicts itself. For Protagoras admits +that what appears to me true is true. If, therefore, it appears to me +true that the doctrine of Protagoras is false, Protagoras himself must +admit that it is false. + +(6) It destroys the objectivity of truth, and renders the distinction +between truth and falsehood wholly meaningless. The same thing is true +and false at the same time, true for you and false for me. Hence it +makes no difference at all whether we say that a proposition is true, +or whether we say that it is false. Both statements mean the same +thing, that is to say, neither of them means anything. To say that +whatever I perceive is true for me merely gives a new name to my +perception, but does not add any value to it. + +(7) In all perception there are elements which are not contributed by +the senses. Suppose I say, "This piece of paper is white." This, we +might think, is a pure judgment of perception. Nothing is stated +except what I perceive by means of my senses. But on consideration it +turns out that this is not correct. First of all I must {180} think +"this piece of paper." Why do I call it paper? My doing so means that +I have classified it. I have mentally compared it with other pieces of +paper, and decided that it is of a class with them. My thought, then, +involves comparison and classification. The object is a compound +sensation of whiteness, squareness, etc. I can only recognise it as a +piece of paper by identifying these sensations, which I have now, with +sensations received from other similar objects in the past. And not +only must I recognize the sameness of the sensations, but I must +recognize their difference from other sensations. I must not confound +the sensations I receive from paper with those which I receive from a +piece of wood. Both identities and differences of sensations must be +known before I can say "this piece of paper." The same is true when I +go on to say that it "is white." This is only possible by classifying +it with other white objects, and differentiating it from objects of +other colours. But the senses themselves cannot perform these acts of +comparison and contrast. Each sensation is, so to speak, an isolated +dot. It cannot go beyond itself to compare itself with others. This +operation must be performed by my mind, which acts as a co-ordinating +central authority, receiving the isolated sensations, combining, +comparing, and contrasting them. This is particularly noticeable in +cases where we compare sensations of one sense with those of another. +Feeling a ball with my fingers, I say it feels round. Looking at it +with my eyes, I say it looks round. But the feel is quite a different +sensation from the look. Yet I use the same word, "round," to describe +both. And this shows that I have identified the two sensations. This +{181} cannot be done by the senses themselves. For my eyes cannot +feel, and my fingers cannot see. It must be the mind itself, standing +above the senses, which performs the identification. Thus the ideas of +identity and difference are not yielded to me by my senses. The +intellect itself introduces them into things. Yet they are involved in +all knowledge, for they are involved even in the simplest acts of +knowledge, such as the proposition, "This is white." Knowledge, +therefore, cannot consist simply of sense-impressions, as Protagoras +thought, for even the simplest propositions contain more than +sensation. + +If knowledge is not the same as perception, neither is it, on the +other hand, the same as opinion. That knowledge is opinion is the +second false theory that Plato seeks to refute. Wrong opinion is +clearly not knowledge. But even right opinion cannot be called +knowledge. If I say, without any grounds for the statement, that there +will be a thunderstorm next Easter Sunday, it may chance that my +statement turns out to be correct. But it cannot be said that, in +making this blind guess, I had any knowledge, although, as it turned +out, I had right opinion. Right opinion may also be grounded, not on +mere guess-work, but on something which, though better, is still not +true understanding. We often feel intuitively, or instinctively, that +something is true, though we cannot give any definite grounds for our +belief. The belief may be quite correct, but it is not, according to +Plato, knowledge. It is only right opinion. To possess knowledge, one +must not only know that a thing is so, but why it is so. One must know +the reasons. Knowledge must be full and complete understanding, +rational comprehension, and not mere instinctive belief. {182} It must +be grounded on reason, and not on faith. Right opinion may be produced +by persuasion and sophistry, by the arts of the orator and +rhetorician. Knowledge can only be produced by reason. Right opinion +may equally be removed by the false arts of rhetoric, and is therefore +unstable and uncertain. But true knowledge cannot be thus shaken. He +who truly knows and understands cannot be robbed of his knowledge by +the glamour of words. Opinion, lastly, may be true or false. Knowledge +can only be true. + +These false theories being refuted, we can now pass to the positive +side of the theory of knowledge. If knowledge is neither perception +nor opinion, what is it? Plato adopts, without alteration, the +Socratic doctrine that all knowledge is knowledge through concepts. +This, as I explained in the lecture on Socrates, gets rid of the +objectionable results of the Sophistic identification of knowledge +with perception. A concept, being the same thing as a definition, is +something fixed and permanent, not liable to mutation according to the +subjective impressions of the individual. It gives us objective truth. +This also agrees with Plato's view of opinion. Knowledge is not +opinion, founded on instinct or intuition. Knowledge is founded on +reason. This is the same as saying that it is founded upon concepts, +since reason is the faculty of concepts. + +But if Plato, in answering the question, "What is knowledge?" follows +implicitly the teaching of Socrates, he yet builds upon this teaching +a new and wholly un-Socratic metaphysic of his own. The Socratic +theory of knowledge he now converts into a theory of the nature of +reality. This is the subject-matter of Dialectic. + +{183} + + + +3. Dialectic, or the Theory of Ideas. + +The concept had been for Socrates merely a rule of thought. +Definitions, like guide-rails, keep thought upon the straight path; we +compare any act with the definition of virtue in order to ascertain +whether it is virtuous. But what was for Socrates merely regulative of +thought, Plato now transforms into a metaphysical substance. His +theory of Ideas is the theory of the objectivity of concepts. That the +concept is not merely an idea in the mind, but something which has a +reality of its own, outside and independent of the mind--this is the +essence of the philosophy of Plato. + +How did Plato arrive at this doctrine? It is founded upon the view +that truth means the correspondence of one's ideas with the facts of +existence. If I see a lake of water, and if there really is such a +lake, then my idea is true. But if there is no lake, then my idea is +false. It is an hallucination. Truth, according to this view, means +that the thought in my mind is a copy of something outside my mind. +Falsehood consists in having an idea which is not a copy of anything +which really exists. Knowledge, of course, means knowledge of the +truth. And when I say that a thought in my mind is knowledge, I must +therefore mean that this thought is a copy of something that exists. +But we have already seen that knowledge is the knowledge of concepts. +And if a concept is true knowledge, it can only be true in virtue of +the fact that it corresponds to an objective reality. There must, +therefore, be general ideas or concepts, outside my mind. It were a +contradiction to suppose, on the one hand, that the concept is true +knowledge, and on the other, that it corresponds to nothing external +{184} to us. This would be like saying that my idea of the lake of +water is a true idea, but that no such lake really exists. The concept +in my mind must be a copy of the concept outside it. + +Now if knowledge by concepts is true, our experiences through +sensation must be false. Our senses make us aware of many individual +horses. Our intellect gives us the concept of the horse in general. If +the latter is the sole truth, the former must be false. And this can +only mean that the objects of sensation have no true reality. What has +reality is the concept; what has no reality is the individual thing +which is perceived by the senses. This and that particular horse have +no true being. Reality belongs only to the idea of the horse in +general. + +Let us approach this theory from a somewhat different direction. +Suppose I ask you the question, "What is beauty?" You point to a rose, +and say, "Here is beauty." And you say the same of a woman's face, a +piece of woodland scenery, and a clear moonlight night. But I answer +that this is not what I want to know. I did not ask what things are +beautiful, but what is beauty. I did not ask for many things, but for +one thing, namely, beauty. If beauty is a rose, it cannot be +moonlight, because a rose and moonlight are quite different things. By +beauty we mean, not many things, but one. This is proved by the fact +that we use only one word for it. And what I want to know is what this +one beauty is, which is distinct from all beautiful objects. Perhaps +you will say that there is no such thing as beauty apart from +beautiful objects, and that, though we use one word, yet this is only +a manner of {185} speech, and that there are in reality many beauties, +each residing in a beautiful object. In that case, I observe that, +though the many beauties are all different, yet, since you use the one +word to describe them all, you evidently think that they are similar +to each other. How do you know that they are similar? Your eyes cannot +inform you of this similarity, because it involves comparison, and we +have already seen that comparison is an act of the mind, and not of +the senses. You must therefore have an idea of beauty in your mind, +with which you compare the various beautiful objects and so recognise +them as all resembling your idea of beauty, and therefore as +resembling each other. So that there is at any rate an idea of one +beauty in your mind. Either this idea corresponds to something outside +you, or it does not. In the latter case, your idea of beauty is a mere +invention, a figment of your own brain. If so, then, in judging +external objects by your subjective idea, and in making it the +standard of whether they are beautiful or not, you are back again at +the position of the Sophists. You are making yourself and the fancies +of your individual brain the standard of external truth. Therefore, +the only alternative is to believe that there is not only an idea of +beauty in your mind, but that there is such a thing as the one beauty +itself, of which your idea is a copy. This beauty exists outside the +mind, and it is something distinct from all beautiful objects. + +What has been said of beauty may equally be said of justice, or of +goodness, or of whiteness, or of heaviness. There are many just acts, +but only one justice, since we use one word for it. This justice must +be a real thing, distinct from all particular just acts. Our ideas of +justice {186} are copies of it. So also there are many white objects, +but also the one whiteness. + +Of the above examples, several are very exalted moral ideas, such as +beauty, justice, and goodness. But the case of whiteness will serve to +show that the theory attributes reality not only to exalted ideas, but +to others also. In fact, we might quite well substitute evil for +goodness, and all the same arguments would apply. Or we might take a +corporeal object such as the horse, and ask what "horse" means. It +does not mean the many individual horses, for since one word is used +it must mean one thing, which is related to individual horses, just as +whiteness is related to individual white things. It means the +universal horse, the idea of the horse in general, and this, just as +much as goodness or beauty, must be something objectively real. + +Now beauty, justice, goodness, whiteness, the horse in general, are +all concepts. The idea of beauty is formed by including what is common +to all beautiful objects, and excluding those points in which they +differ. And this, as we have seen, is just what is meant by a concept. +Plato's theory, therefore, is that concepts are objective realities. +And he gives to these objective concepts the technical name Ideas. +This is his answer to the chief question of philosophy, namely, what, +amid all the appearances and unrealities of things, is that absolute +and ultimate reality, from which all else is to be explained? It +consists, for Plato, in Ideas. + +Let us see next what the characteristics of the Ideas are. In the +first place, they are substances. Substance is a technical term in +philosophy, but its philosophical meaning is merely a more consistent +development of its {187} popular meaning. In common talk, we generally +apply the word substance to material things such as iron, brass, wood, +or water. And we say that these substances possess qualities. For +example, hardness and shininess are qualities of the substance iron. +The qualities cannot exist apart from the substances. They do not +exist on their own account, but are dependent on the substance. The +shininess cannot exist by itself. There must be a shiny something. +But, according to popular ideas, though the qualities are not +independent of the substance, the substance is independent of the +qualities. The qualities derive their reality from the substance. But +the substance has reality in itself. The philosophical use of the term +substance is simply a more consistent application of this idea. +Substance means, for the philosopher, that which has its whole being +in itself, whose reality does not flow into it from anything else, but +which is the source of its own reality. It is self-caused, and +self-determined. It is the ground of other things, but itself has no +ground except itself. For example, if we believe the popular Christian +idea that God created the world, but is Himself an ultimate and +uncreated being, then, since the world depends for its existence upon +God, but God's existence depends only upon Himself, God is a substance +and the world is not. In this sense the word is correctly used in the +Creed where it speaks of God as "three persons, but one substance." +Again, if, with the Idealists, we think that mind is a self-existent +reality, and that matter owes its existence to mind, then in that case +matter is not substance, but mind is. In this technical sense the +Ideas are substances. They are absolute and ultimate realities. {188} +Their whole being is in themselves. They depend on nothing, but all +things depend on them. They are the first principles of the universe. + +Secondly, the Ideas are universal. An Idea is not any particular +thing. The Idea of the horse is not this or that horse. It is the +general concept of all horses. It is the universal horse. For this +reason the Ideas are, in modern times, often called "universals." + +Thirdly, the Ideas are not things, but thoughts. There is no such +thing as the horse-in-general. If there were, we should be able to +find it somewhere, and it would then be a particular thing instead of +a universal. But in saying that the Ideas are thoughts, there are two +mistakes to be carefully avoided. The first is to suppose that they +are the thoughts of a person, that they are your thoughts or my +thoughts. The second is to suppose that they are thoughts in the mind +of God. Both these views are wrong. It would be absurd to suppose that +our thoughts can be the cause of the universe. Our concepts are indeed +copies of the Ideas, but to confuse them with the Ideas themselves is, +for Plato, as absurd as to confuse our idea of a mountain with the +mountain itself. Nor are they the thoughts of God. They are indeed +sometimes spoken of as the "Ideas in the divine mind." But this is +only a figurative expression. We can, if we like, talk of the sum of +all the Ideas as constituting the "divine mind." But this means +nothing in particular, and is only a poetical phrase. Both these +mistakes are due to the fact that we find it difficult to conceive of +thoughts without a thinker. This, however, is just what Plato meant. +They are not subjective ideas, that is, the ideas in a particular and +existent {189} mind. They are objective Ideas, thoughts which have +reality on their own account, independently of any mind. + +Fourthly, each Idea is a unity. It is the one amid the many. The Idea +of man is one, although individual men are many. There cannot be more +than one Idea for each class of objects. If there were several Ideas +of justice, we should have to seek for the common element among them, +and this common element would itself constitute the one Idea of +justice. + +Fifthly, the Ideas are immutable and imperishable. A concept is the +same as a definition. And the whole point in a definition is that it +should always be the same. The object of a definition is to compare +individual things with it, and to see whether they agree with it or +not. But if the definition of a triangle differed from day to day, it +would be useless, since we could never say whether any particular +figure were a triangle or not, just as the standard yard in the Tower +of London would be useless if it changed in length, and were twice as +long to-day as it was yesterday. A definition is thus something +absolutely permanent, and a definition is only the expression in words +of the nature of an Idea. Consequently the Ideas cannot change. The +many beautiful objects arise and pass away, but the one Beauty neither +begins nor ends. It is eternal, unchangeable, and imperishable. The +many beautiful things are but the fleeting expressions of the one +eternal beauty. The definition of man would remain the same, even if +all men were destroyed. The Idea of man is eternal, and remains +untouched by the birth, old age, decay, and death, of individual men. + +Sixthly, the Ideas are the Essences of all things. The definition +gives us what is essential to a thing. If we {190} define man as a +rational animal, this means that reason is of the essence of man. The +fact that this man has a turned-up nose, and that man red hair, are +accidental facts, not essential to their humanity. We do not include +them in the definition of man. + +Seventhly, each Idea is, in its own kind, an absolute perfection, and +its perfection is the same as its reality. The perfect man is the one +universal type-man, that is, the Idea of man, and all individual men +deviate more or less from this perfect type. In so far as they fall +short of it, they are imperfect and unreal. + +Eighthly, the Ideas are outside space and time. That they are outside +space is obvious. If they were in space, they would have to be in some +particular place. We ought to be able to find them somewhere. A +telescope or microscope might reveal them. And this would mean that +they are individual and particular things, and not universals at all. +They are also outside time. For they are unchangeable and eternal; and +this does not mean that they are the same at all times. If that were +so, their immutability would be a matter of experience, and not of +reason. We should, so to speak, have to look at them from time to time +to see that they had not really changed. But their immutability is not +a matter of experience, but is known to thought. It is not merely that +they are always the same in time, but that time is irrelevant to them. +They are timeless. In the "Timaeus" eternity is distinguished from +infinite time. The latter is described as a mere copy of eternity. + +Ninthly, the Ideas are rational, that is to say, they are apprehended +through reason. The finding of the common element in the manifold is +the work of inductive {191} reason, and through this alone is +knowledge of the Ideas possible. This should be noted by those persons +who imagine that Plato was some sort of benevolent mystic. The +imperishable One, the absolute reality, is apprehended, not by +intuition, or in any kind of mystic ecstasy, but only by rational +cognition and laborious thought. + +Lastly, towards the end of his life, Plato identified the Ideas with +the Pythagorean numbers. We know this from Aristotle, but it is not +mentioned in the dialogues of Plato himself. It appears to have been a +theory adopted in old age, and set forth in the lectures which +Aristotle attended. It is a retrograde step, and tends to degrade the +great and lucid idealism of Plato into a mathematical mysticism. In +this, as in other respects, the influence of the Pythagoreans upon +Plato was harmful. + +It results from this whole theory of Ideas that there are two sources +of human experience, sense-perception and reason. Sense-perception has +for its object the world of sense; reason has for its object the +Ideas. The world of sense has all the opposite characteristics to the +Ideas. The Ideas are absolute reality, absolute Being. Objects of +sense are absolute unreality, not-being, except in so far as the Ideas +are in them. Whatever reality they have they owe to the Ideas. There +is in Plato's system a principle of absolute not-being which we shall +consider when we come to deal with his Physics. Objects of sense +participate both in the Ideas and in this not-being. They are, +therefore, half way between Being and not-being. They are half real. +Ideas, again, are universal; things of sense are always particular and +individual. The Idea is one, the sense-object is always {192} a +multiplicity. Ideas are outside space and time, things of sense are +both temporal and spatial. The Idea is eternal and immutable; +sense-objects are changeable and in perpetual flux. + +As regards the last point, Plato adopts the view of Heracleitus that +there is an absolute Becoming, and he identifies it with the world of +sense, which contains nothing stable and permanent, but is a constant +flow. The Idea always is, and never becomes; the thing of sense always +becomes, and never is. It is for this reason that, in the opinion of +Plato, no knowledge of the world of sense is possible, for one can +have no knowledge of that which changes from moment to moment. +Knowledge is only possible if its subject stands fixed before the +mind, is permanent and changeless. The only knowledge, then, is +knowledge of the Ideas. + +This may seem, at first sight, a very singular doctrine. That there +can be no knowledge of sense-objects would, it might seem to us +moderns, involve the denial that modern physical science, with all its +exactitude and accumulated knowledge, is knowledge at all. And surely, +though all earthly things arise and pass away, many of them last long +enough to admit of knowledge. Surely the mountains are sufficiently +permanent to allow us to know something of them. They have relative, +though not absolute, permanence. This criticism is partly justified. +Plato did underestimate the value of physical knowledge. But for the +most part, the criticism is a misunderstanding. By the world of sense +Plato means bare sensation with no rational element in it. Now +physical science has not such crude sensation for its object. Its +objects are rationalized sensations. {193} If, in Plato's manner, we +think only of pure sensation, then it is true that it is nothing but a +constant flux without stability; and knowledge of it is impossible. +The mountains are comparatively permanent. But our sensation of the +mountains is perpetually changing. Every change of light, every cloud +that passes over the sun, changes the colours and the shades. Every +time we move from one situation to another, the mountain appears a +different shape. The permanence of the mountain itself is due to the +fact that all these varying sensations are identified as sensations of +one and the same object. The idea of identity is involved here, and it +is, as it were, a thread upon which these fleeting sensations are +strung. But the idea of identity cannot be obtained from the senses. +It is introduced into things by reason. Hence knowledge of this +permanent mountain is only possible through the exercise of reason. In +Plato's language, all we can know of the mountain is the Ideas in +which it participates. To revert to a previous example, even the +knowledge "this paper is white" involves the activity of intellect, +and is impossible through sensation alone. Bare sensation is a flow, +of which no knowledge is possible. + +Aristotle observes that Plato's theory of Ideas has three sources, the +teachings of the Eleatics, of Heracleitus, and of Socrates. From +Heracleitus, Plato took the notion of a sphere of Becoming, and it +appears in his system as the world of sense. From the Eleatics he took +the idea of a sphere of absolute Being. From Socrates he took the +doctrine of concepts, and proceeded to identify the Eleatic Being with +the Socratic concepts. This gives him his theory of Ideas. + +{194} + +Sense objects, so far as they are knowable, that is so far as they are +more than bare sensations, are so only because the Idea resides in +them. And this yields the clue to Plato's teaching regarding the +relation of sense objects to the Ideas. The Ideas are, in the first +place the cause, that is to say, the ground (not the mechanical cause) +of sense-objects. The Ideas are the absolute reality by which +individual things must be explained. The being of things flows into +them from the Ideas. They are "copies," "imitations," of the Ideas. In +so far as they resemble the Idea, they are real; in so far as they +differ from it, they are unreal. In general, sense objects are, in +Plato's opinion, only very dim, poor and imperfect copies of the +Ideas. They are mere shadows, and half-realities. Another expression +frequently used by Plato to express this relationship is that of +"participation." Things participate in the Ideas. White objects +participate in the one whiteness, beautiful objects, in the one +beauty. In this way beauty itself is the cause or explanation of +beautiful objects, and so of all other Ideas. The Ideas are thus both +transcendent and immanent; immanent in so far as they reside in the +things of sense, transcendent inasmuch as they have a reality of their +own apart from the objects of sense which participate in them. The +Idea of man would still be real even if all men were destroyed, and it +was real before any man existed, if there ever was such a time. For +the Ideas, being timeless, cannot be real now and not then. + +Of what kinds of things are there Ideas? That there are moral Ideas, +such as Justice, Goodness, and Beauty, Ideas of corporeal things, such +as horse, man, tree, star, river, and Ideas of qualities, such as +whiteness, heaviness, {195} sweetness, we have already seen. But there +are Ideas not only of natural corporeal objects, but likewise of +manufactured articles; there are Ideas of beds, tables, clothes. And +there are Ideas not only of exalted moral entities, such as Beauty and +Justice. There are also the Ideal Ugliness, and the Ideal Injustice. +There are even Ideas of the positively nauseating, such as hair, +filth, and dirt. This is asserted in the "Parmenides." In that +dialogue Plato's teaching is put into the mouth of Parmenides. He +questions the young Socrates whether there are Ideas of hair, filth, +and dirt. Socrates denies that there can be Ideas of such base things. +But Parmenides corrects him, and tells him that, when he has attained +the highest philosophy, he will no longer despise such things. +Moreover, these Ideas of base things are just as much perfection in +their kind as Beauty and Goodness are in theirs. In general, the +principle is that there must be an Idea wherever a concept can be +formed; that is, wherever there is a class of many things called by +one name. + +We saw, in treating of the Eleatics, that for them the absolute Being +contained no not-being, and the absolute One no multiplicity. And it +was just because they denied all not-being and multiplicity of the +absolute reality that they were unable to explain the world of +existence, and were forced to deny it altogether. The same problem +arises for Plato. Is Being absolutely excludent of not-being? Is the +Absolute an abstract One, utterly exclusive of the many? Is his +philosophy a pure monism? Is it a pluralism? Or is it a combination of +the two? These questions are discussed in the "Sophist" and the +"Parmenides." + +{196} + +Plato investigates the relations of the One and the many, Being and +not-being, quite in the abstract. He decides the principles involved, +and leaves it to the reader to apply them to the theory of Ideas. +Whether the Absolute is one or many, Being or not-being, can be +decided independently of any particular theory of the nature of the +Absolute, and therefore independently of Plato's own theory, which was +that the Absolute consists of Ideas. Plato does not accept the Eleatic +abstraction. The One cannot be simply one, for every unity must +necessarily be a multiplicity. The many and the One are correlative +ideas which involve each other. Neither is thinkable without the +other. A One which is not many is as absurd an abstraction as a whole +which has no parts. For the One can only be defined as that which is +not many, and the many can only be defined as the not-one. The One is +unthinkable except as standing out against a background of the many. +The idea of the One therefore involves the idea of the many, and +cannot be thought without it. Moreover, an abstract One is unthinkable +and unknowable, because all thought and knowledge consist in applying +predicates to subjects, and all predication involves the duality of +its subject. + +Consider the simplest affirmation that can be made about the One, +namely, "The One is." Here we have two things, "the One," and "is," +that is to say, being. The proposition means that the One is Being. +Hence the One is two. Firstly, it is itself, "One." Secondly, it is +"Being," and the proposition affirms that these two things are one. +Similarly with any other predicate we apply to the One. Whatever we +say of it involves its duality. Thus we find that all systems of +thought which {197} postulate an abstract unity as ultimate reality, +such as Eleaticism, Hinduism, and the system of Spinoza, attempt to +avoid the difficulty by saying nothing positive about the One. They +apply to it only negative predicates, which tell us not what it is, +but what it is not. Thus the Hindus speak of Brahman as form_less_, +_im_mutable, _im_perishable, _un_moved, _un_created. But this, of course, +is a futile expedient. In the first place, even a negative predicate +involves the duality of the subject. And, in the second place, a +negative predicate is always, by implication, a positive one. You +cannot have a negative without a positive. To deny one thing is to +affirm its opposite. To deny motion of the One, by calling it the +unmoved, is to affirm rest of it. Thus a One which is not also a many +is unthinkable. Similarly, the idea of the many is inconceivable +without the idea of the One. For the many is many ones. Hence the One +and the many cannot be separated in the Eleatic manner. Every unity +must be a unity of the many. And every many is _ipso facto_ a unity, +since we think the many in one idea, and, if we did not, we should not +even know that it is a many. The Absolute must therefore be neither an +abstract One, nor an abstract many. It must be a many in one. + +Similarly, Being cannot totally exclude not-being. They are, just as +much as the One and the many, correlatives, which mutually involve +each other. The being of anything is the not-being of its opposite. +The being of light is the not-being of darkness. All being, therefore, +has not-being in it. + +Let us apply these principles to the theory of Ideas. The absolute +reality, the world of Ideas, is many, since {198} there are many +Ideas, but it is one, because the Ideas are not isolated units, but +members of a single organized system. There is, in fact, a hierarchy +of Ideas. Just as the one Idea presides over many individual things of +which it is the common element, so one higher Idea presides over many +lower Ideas, and is the common element in them. And over this higher +Idea, together with many others, a still higher Idea will rule. For +example, the Ideas of whiteness, redness, blueness, are all subsumed +under the one Idea of colour. The Ideas of sweetness and bitterness +come under the one Idea of taste. But the Ideas of colour and taste +themselves stand under the still higher Idea of quality. In this way, +the Ideas form, as it were, a pyramid, and to this pyramid there must +be an apex. There must be one highest Idea, which is supreme over all +the others. This Idea will be the one final and absolutely real Being +which is the ultimate ground, of itself, of the other Ideas, and of +the entire universe. This Idea is, Plato tells us, the Idea of the +Good. We have seen that the world of Ideas is many, and we now see +that it is one. For it is one single system culminating in one supreme +Idea, which is the highest expression of its unity. Moreover, each +separate Idea is, in the same way, a many in one. It is one in regard +to itself. That is to say, if we ignore its relations to other Ideas, +it is, in itself, single. But as it has also many relations to other +Ideas, it is, in this way, a multiplicity. + +Every Idea is likewise a Being which contains not-being. For each Idea +combines with some Ideas and not with others. Thus the Idea of +corporeal body combines both with the Idea of rest and that of motion. +{199} But the Ideas of rest and motion will not combine with each +other. The Idea of rest, therefore, is Being in regard to itself, +not-being in regard to the Idea of motion, for the being of rest is +the not-being of motion. All Ideas are Being in regard to themselves, +and not-being in regard to all those other Ideas with which they do +not combine. + +In this way there arises a science of Ideas which is called dialectic. +This word is sometimes used as identical with the phrase, "theory of +Ideas." But it is also used, in a narrower sense, to mean the science +which has to do with the knowledge of which Ideas will combine and +which not. Dialectic is the correct joining and disjoining of Ideas. +It is the knowledge of the relations of all the Ideas to each other. + +The attainment of this knowledge is, in Plato's opinion, the chief +problem of philosophy. To know all the Ideas, each in itself and in +its relations to other Ideas, is the supreme task. This involves two +steps. The first is the formation of concepts. Its object is to know +each Idea separately, and its procedure is by inductive reason to find +the common element in which the many individual objects participate. +The second step consists in the knowledge of the inter-relation of +Ideas, and involves the two processes of classification and division. +Classification and division both have for their object to arrange the +lower Ideas under the proper higher Ideas, but they do this in +opposite ways. One may begin with the lower Ideas, such as redness, +whiteness, etc., and range them under their higher Idea, that of +colour. This is classification. Or one may begin with the higher Idea, +colour, and divide it into the lower Ideas, red, white, {200} etc. +Classification proceeds from below upwards. Division proceeds from +above downwards. Most of the examples of division which Plato gives +are divisions by dichotomy. We may either divide colour straight away +into red, blue, white, etc.; or we may divide each class into two +sub-classes. Thus colour will be divided into red and not-red, not-red +into white and not-white, not-white into blue and not-blue, and so on. +This latter process is division by dichotomy, and Plato prefers it +because, though it is tedious, it is very exhaustive and systematic. + +Plato's actual performance of the supreme task of dialectic, the +classification and arrangement of all Ideas, is not great. He has made +no attempt to complete it. All he has done is to give us numerous +examples. And this is, in reality, all that can be expected, for the +number of Ideas is obviously infinite, and therefore the task of +arranging them cannot be completed. There is, however, one important +defect in the dialectic, which Plato ought certainly to have remedied. +The supreme Idea, he tells us, is the Good. This, as being the +ultimate reality, is the ground of all other Ideas. Plato ought +therefore to have derived all other Ideas from it, but this he has not +done. He merely asserts, in a more or less dogmatic way, that the Idea +of the Good is the highest, but does nothing to connect it with the +other Ideas. It is easy to see, however, why he made this assertion. +It is, in fact, a necessary logical outcome of his system. For every +Idea is perfection in its kind. All the Ideas have perfection in +common. And just as the one beauty is the Idea which presides over all +beautiful things, so the one perfection must be the supreme Idea which +presides {201} over all the perfect Ideas. The supreme Idea, +therefore, must be perfection itself, that is to say, the Idea of the +Good. On the other hand it might, with equal force, be argued that +since all the Ideas are substances, therefore the highest Idea is the +Idea of substance. All that can be said is that Plato has left these +matters in obscurity, and has merely asserted that the highest Idea is +the Good. + +Consideration of the Idea of the Good leads us naturally to enquire +how far Plato's system is teleological in character. A little +consideration will show that it is out and out teleological. We can +see this both by studying the many lower Ideas, and the one supreme +Idea. Each Idea is perfection of its kind. And each Idea is the ground +of the existence of the individual objects which come under it. Thus +the explanation of white objects is the perfect whiteness, of +beautiful objects the perfect beauty. Or we may take as our example +the Idea of the State which Plato describes in the "Republic." The +ordinary view is that Plato was describing a State which was the +invention of his own fancy, and is therefore to be regarded as +entirely unreal. This is completely to misunderstand Plato. So far was +he from thinking the ideal State unreal, that he regarded it, on the +contrary, as the only real State. All existent States, such as the +Athenian or the Spartan, are unreal in so far as they differ from the +ideal State. And moreover, this one reality, the ideal State, is the +ground of the existence of all actual States. They owe their existence +to its reality. Their existence can only be explained by it. Now since +the ideal State is not yet reached in fact, but is the perfect State +towards which all actual States tend, it is clear that we have here +{202} a teleological principle. The real explanation of the State is +not to be found in its beginnings in history, in an original contract, +or in biological necessities, but in its end, the final or perfect +State. Or, if we prefer to put it so; the true beginning is the end. +The end must be in the beginning, potentially and ideally, otherwise +it could never begin: It is the same with all other things. Man is +explained by the ideal man, the perfect man; white things by the +perfect whiteness, and so on. Everything is explained by its end, and +not by its beginning. Things are not explained by mechanical causes, +but by reasons. + +And the teleology of Plato culminates in the Idea of the Good. That +Idea is the final explanation of all other Ideas, and of the entire +universe. And to place the final ground of all things in perfection +itself means that the universe arises out of that perfect end towards +which all things move. + +Another matter which requires elucidation here is the place which the +conception of God holds in Plato's system. He frequently uses the word +God both in the singular and the plural, and seems to slip with +remarkable ease from the monotheistic to the polytheistic manner of +speaking. In addition to the many gods, we have frequent reference to +the one supreme Creator, controller, and ruler of the world, who is +further conceived as a Being providentially watching over the lives of +men. But in what relation does this supreme God stand to the Ideas, +and especially to the Idea of the Good? If God is separate from the +highest Idea, then, as Zeller points out, [Footnote 13] only three +relations are possible, all of which are {203} equally objectionable. +Firstly, God may be the cause or ground of the Idea of the Good. But +this destroys the substantiality of the Idea, and indeed, destroys +Plato's whole system. The very essence of his philosophy is that the +Idea is the ultimate reality, which is self-existent, and owes its +being to nothing else. But this theory makes it a mere creature of +God, dependent on Him for its existence. Secondly, God may owe His +being to the Idea. The Idea may be the ground of God's existence as it +is the ground of all else in the universe. But this theory does +violence to the idea of God, turning Him into a mere derivative +existence, and, in fact, into an appearance. Thirdly, God and the Idea +may be co-ordinate in the system as equally primordial independent +ultimate realities. But this means that Plato has given two mutually +inconsistent accounts of the ultimate reality, or, if not, that his +system is a hopeless dualism. As none of these theories can be +maintained, it must be supposed that God is identical with the Idea of +the Good, and we find certain expressions in the "Philebus" which seem +clearly to assert this. But in that case God is not a personal God at +all, since the Idea is not a person. The word God, if used in this +way, is merely a figurative term for the Idea. And this is the most +probable theory, if we reflect that there is in fact no room for a +personal God in a system which places all reality in the Idea, and +that to introduce such a conception threatens to break up the whole +system. Plato probably found it useful to take the popular conceptions +about the personality of God or the gods and use them, in mythical +fashion, to express his Ideas. Those parts of Plato which speak of +God, and the governance of God, {204} are to be interpreted on the +same principles as the other Platonic myths. + +[Footnote 13: _Plato and the Older Academy_, chap. vi.] + +Before closing our discussion of dialectic, it may be well to consider +what place it occupies in the life of man, and what importance is +attached to it. Here Plato's answer is emphatic. Dialectic is the +crown of knowledge, and knowledge is the crown of life. All other +spiritual activities have value only in so far as they lead up to the +knowledge of the Idea. All other subjects of intellectual study are +merely preparatory to the study of philosophy. The special sciences +have no value in themselves, but they have value inasmuch as their +definitions and classifications form a preparation for the knowledge +of Ideas. Mathematics is important because it is a stepping-stone from +the world of sense to the Ideas. Its objects, namely, numbers and +geometrical figures, resemble the Ideas in so far as they are +immutable, and they resemble sense-objects in so far as they are in +space or time. In the educational curriculum of Plato, philosophy +comes last. Not everyone may study it. And none may study it till he +has been through all the preparatory stages of education, which form a +rigorous discipline of the mind before it finally enters upon +dialectic. Thus all knowledge ends in dialectic, and that life has not +attained its end which falls short of philosophy. + +Perhaps the most striking illustration of the subordination of all +spiritual activities to philosophy is to be found in the doctrine of +Eros, or Love. The phrase "platonic love" is on the lips of many, but, +as a rule, something very different from Plato's own doctrine is +meant. According to him, love is always concerned with beauty, and his +teaching on the subject is expounded {205} chiefly in the "Symposium," +He believed that before birth the soul dwelt disembodied in the pure +contemplation of the world of Ideas. Sinking down into a body, +becoming immersed in the world of sense, it forgets the Ideas. The +sight of a beautiful object reminds it of that one Idea of beauty of +which the object is a copy. This accounts for the mystic rapture, the +emotion, the joy, with which we greet the sight of the beautiful. +Since Plato had expressly declared that there are Ideas of the ugly as +well as of the beautiful, that there are Ideas, for example, of hair, +filth, and dirt, and since these Ideas are just as divine and perfect +as the Idea of the beautiful, we ought, on this theory, to greet the +ugly, the filthy, and the nauseating, with a ravishment of joy similar +to that which we experience in the presence of beauty. Why this is not +the case Plato omitted to explain. However, having learned to love the +one beautiful object, the soul passes on to the love of others. Then +it perceives that it is the same beauty which reveals itself in all +these. It passes from the love of beautiful forms to the love of +beautiful souls, and from that to the love of beautiful sciences. It +ceases to be attached to the many objects, as such, that is to say, to +the sensuous envelopes of the Idea of beauty. Love passes into the +knowledge of the Idea of beauty itself, and from this to the knowledge +of the world of Ideas in general. It passes in fact into philosophy. + +In this development there are two points which we cannot fail to note. +In the first place, emotional love is explained as being simply the +blind groping of reason towards the Idea. It is reason which has not +yet recognized itself as such. It appears, therefore, in the {206} +guise of feeling. Secondly, the later progress of the soul's love is +simply the gradual recognition of itself by reason. When the soul +perceives that the beauty in all objects is the same, that it is the +common element amid the many, this is nothing but the process of +inductive reasoning. And this development ends at last in the complete +rational cognition of the world of Ideas, in a word, philosophy. Love +is but an instinctive reason. The animal has no feeling of the +beautiful, just because it has no reason. Love of the beautiful is +founded upon the nature of man, not as a percipient or feeling being, +but as a rational being. And it must end in the complete recognition +of reason by itself, not in the feeling and intuition, but in the +rational comprehension, of the Idea. + +One can imagine what Plato's answer would be to the sort of vulgarians +and philistines who want to know what the use of philosophy is, and in +what way it is "practical." To answer such a question is for Plato +impossible, because the question itself is illegitimate. For a thing +to have a use involves that it is a means towards an end. Fire has +use, because it may be made a means towards the cooking of food. Money +is useful, because it is a means to the acquisition of goods. That +which is an end in itself, and not a means towards any further end, +cannot possibly have any use. To suggest that philosophy ought to have +use is, therefore, to put the cart before the horse, to invert the +whole scale of values. It suggests that philosophy is a means towards +some further end, instead of being the absolute end to which all other +things are means. Philosophy is not _for_ anything. Everything else is +_for_ it. And, if this seems an exaggerated or unpractical view, we may +at least {207} remember that this is the view taken by the religious +consciousness of man. Religion makes the supreme end of life the +knowledge of, and communion with, God. God is for religion what the +Idea is for philosophy. God is a figurative name for the Idea. To +place the end of life in the knowledge of the Absolute, or the Idea, +is therefore the teaching both of philosophy and religion. + + + +4. Physics, or the Theory of Existence. + +Dialectic is the theory of reality, physics the theory of existence, +dialectic of that which lies behind things as their ground, physics of +the things which are thus grounded. That is to say, physics is +concerned with phenomena and appearances, things which exist in space +and time, as opposed to the timeless and non-spatial Ideas. Things of +this kind are both corporeal and incorporeal. Physics falls therefore +into two parts, the doctrine of the outward corporeality, the world, +with its incorporeal essence, the World-Soul, and the doctrine of the +incorporeal soul of man. + + + +_(a) The Doctrine of the World_. + +If, in the dialectic, Plato has given an account of the nature of the +first principle and ground of all things, the problem now arises of +explaining how the actual universe of things arises out of that +ground, how it is derived from the first principle. In other words, +the Ideas being the absolute reality, how does the world of sense, +and, in general, the existent universe, arise out of the Ideas? Faced +with this problem, the system of Plato broke down. The things of sense +are, we are told, "copies" or "imitations" of the Ideas. {208} They +"participate" in the Ideas. So far, so good. But why should there be +any copies of the Ideas? Why should the Ideas give rise to copies of +themselves, and how is the production of these copies effected? To +these questions Plato has no answer, and he therefore has recourse to +the use of myths. Poetic description here takes the place of +scientific explanation. + +This poetic description of the origin of the world is to be found in +the "Timaeus." We have seen that the Ideas are absolute Being, and +that things of sense are half real and half unreal. They are partly +real because they participate in Being. They are partly unreal because +they participate in not-being. There must be, therefore, a principle +of absolute not-being. This, in Plato's opinion, is matter. Things of +sense are copies of the Ideas fashioned out of, or stamped upon, +matter. But Plato does not understand by matter what we, in modern +times, understand by it. Matter, in our sense, is always some +particular kind of matter. It is brass, or wood, or iron, or stone. It +is matter which has determinate character and quality. But the +possession of specific character means that it is matter with the copy +of Ideas already stamped upon it. Since iron exists in great +quantities in the world, and there is a common element in all the +various pieces of iron, by virtue of which all are classed together, +there must be a concept of iron. There is, therefore, an Idea of iron +in the world of Ideas. And the iron which we find in the earth must be +matter which is already formed into a copy of this Idea. It +participates in the Idea of iron. The same remarks apply to any other +particular kind of matter. In fact, all form, all the specific +characters and {209} features of matter, as we know it, are due to the +operation of the Ideas. Hence matter as it is in itself, before the +image of the Ideas is stamped upon it, must be absolutely without +quality, featureless, formless. But to be absolutely without any +quality is to be simply nothing at all. This matter is, therefore, as +Plato says, absolute not-being. Zeller conjectures, probably rightly, +that what Plato meant was simply empty space. [Footnote 14] Empty +space is an existent not-being, and it is totally indeterminate and +formless. It accords with this view that Plato adopted the Pythagorean +tenet that the differential qualities of material substances are due +to their smallest particles being regular geometrical figures limited +out of the unlimited, that is, out of space. Thus earth is composed of +cubes. That is to say, empty space when bound into cubes (the limiting +of the unlimited) becomes earth. The smallest particles of fire are +_tetrahedra_, of air _octahedra_, of water _icosahedra_. + +[Footnote 14: _Plato and the Older Academy_, chap. vii. ] + +We have, then, on the one hand, the world of Ideas, on the other, +matter, an absolutely formless, chaotic, mass. By impressing the +images of the Ideas upon this mass, "things" arise, that is to say, +the specific objects of sense. They thus participate both in Being and +in not-being. But how is this mixing of Being and not-being brought +about? How do the Ideas come to have their images stamped upon matter? +It is at this point that we enter upon the region of myth. Up to this +point Plato is certainly to be taken literally. He of course believed +in the reality of the world of Ideas, and he no doubt also believed in +his principle of matter. And he thought that the objects of sense are +to be {210} explained as copies of the Ideas impressed upon matter. +But now, with the problem how this copying is brought about, Plato +leaves the method of scientific explanation behind. If the Ideas are +the absolute ground of all things, then the copying process must be +done by the Ideas themselves. They must themselves be made the +principles for the production of things. But this is, for Plato, +impossible. For production involves change. If the Ideas produce +things out of themselves, the Ideas must in the process undergo +change. But Plato has declared them to be absolutely unchangeable, and +to be thus immutable is to be sterile. Hence the Ideas have within +themselves no principle for the production of things, and the +scientific explanation of things by this means becomes impossible. +Hence there is nothing for it but to have recourse to myth. Plato can +only imagine that things are produced by a world-former, or designer, +who, like a human artist, fashions the plastic matter into images of +the Ideas. + +God, the Creator, the world-designer, finds beside him, on the one +hand, the Ideas, on the other, formless matter. First, he creates the +World-Soul. This is incorporeal, but occupies space. He spreads it out +like a huge net in empty space. He bisects it, and bends the two +halves into an inner and an outer circle, these circles being destined +to become the spheres of the planets and the stars respectively. He +takes matter and binds it into the four elements, and these elements +he builds into the empty framework of the World-Soul. When this is +done, the creation of the universe is complete. The rest of the +"Timaeus" is occupied with the details of Plato's ideas of astronomy +and physical {211} science. These are mostly worthless and tedious, +and we need not pursue them here. But we may mention that Plato, of +course, regarded the earth as the centre of the world. The stars, +which are divine beings, revolve around it. They necessarily move in +circles, because the circle is the perfect figure. The stars, being +divine, are governed solely by reason, and their movement must +therefore be circular, because a circular motion is the motion of +reason. + +The above account of the origin of the world is merely myth, and Plato +knows that it is myth. What he apparently did believe in, however, was +the existence of the World-Soul, and a few words upon this subject are +necessary. The soul, in Plato's system, is the mediator between the +world of Ideas and the world of sense. Like the former, it is +incorporeal and immortal. Like the latter, it occupies space. Plato +thought that there must be a soul in the world to account for the +rational behaviour of things, and to explain motion. The reason which +governs and directs the world dwells in the World-Soul. And the +World-Soul is the cause of motion in the outer universe, just as the +human soul is the cause of the motions of the human body. The cosmos +is a living being. + + + +_(b) The Doctrine of the Human Soul_. + +The human soul is similar in kind to the World-Soul. It is the cause +of the body's movements, and in it the human reason dwells. It has +affinities both with the world of Ideas and the world of sense. It is +divided into two parts, of which one part is again subdivided into +two. The highest part is reason, which is {212} that part of the soul +which apprehends the Ideas. It is simple and indivisible. Now all +destruction of things means the sundering of their parts. But the +rational part of the soul, being simple, has no parts. Therefore it is +indestructible and immortal. The irrational part of the soul is +mortal, and is subdivided into a noble and an ignoble half. To the +noble half belong courage, love of honour, and in general the nobler +emotions. To the ignoble portion belong the sensuous appetites. The +noble half has a certain affinity with reason, in that it has an +instinct for what is noble and great. Nevertheless, this is mere +instinct, and is not rational. The seat of reason is the head, of the +noble half of the lower soul, the breast, of the ignoble half, the +lower part of the body. Man alone possesses the three parts of the +soul. Animals possess the two lower parts, plants only the appetitive +soul. What distinguishes man from the lower orders of creation is thus +that he alone possesses reason. + +Plato connects the doctrine of the immortality of the rational soul +with the theory of Ideas by means of the doctrines of recollection and +transmigration. According to the former doctrine, all knowledge is +recollection of what was experienced by the soul in its disembodied +state before birth. It must carefully be noted, however, that the word +knowledge is here used in the special and restricted sense of Plato. +Not everything that we should call knowledge is recollection. The +sensuous element in my perception that this paper is white is not +recollection, since, as being merely sensuous, it is not, in Plato's +opinion, to be called knowledge. Here, as elsewhere, he confines the +term {213} to rational knowledge, that is to say, knowledge of the +Ideas, though it is doubtful whether he is wholly consistent with +himself in the matter, especially in regard to mathematical knowledge. +It must also be noted that this doctrine has nothing in common with +the Oriental doctrine of the memory of our past lives upon the earth. +An example of this is found in the Buddhist Jatakas, where the Buddha +relates from memory many things that happened to him in the body in +his previous births. Plato's doctrine is quite different. It refers +only to recollection of the experiences of the soul in its disembodied +state in the world of Ideas. + +The reasons assigned by Plato for believing in this doctrine may be +reduced to two. Firstly, knowledge of the Ideas cannot be derived from +the senses, because the Idea is never pure in its sensuous +manifestation, but always mixed. The one beauty, for example, is only +found in experience mixed with the ugly. The second reason is more +striking. And, if the doctrine of recollection is itself fantastic, +this, the chief reason upon which Plato bases it, is interesting and +important. He pointed out that mathematical knowledge seems to be +innate in the mind. It is neither imparted to us by instruction, nor +is it gained from experience. Plato, in fact, came within an ace of +discovering what, in modern times, is called the distinction between +necessary and contingent knowledge, a distinction which was made by +Kant the basis of most far-reaching developments in philosophy. The +character of necessity attaches to rational knowledge, but not to +sensuous. To explain this distinction, we may take as our example of +rational knowledge such a proposition as that two {214} and two make +four. This does not mean merely that, as a matter of fact, every two +objects and every other two objects, with which we have tried the +experiment, make four. It is not merely a fact, it is a necessity. It +is not merely that two and two do make four, but that they must make +four. It is inconceivable that they should not. We have not got to go +and see whether, in each new case, they do so. We know beforehand that +they will, because they must. It is quite otherwise with such a +proposition as, "gold is yellow." There is no necessity about it. It +is merely a fact. For all anybody can see to the contrary it might +just as well be blue. There is nothing inconceivable about its being +blue, as there is about two and two making five. Of course, that gold +is yellow is no doubt a mechanical necessity, that is, it is +determined by causes, and in that sense could not be otherwise. But it +is not a logical necessity. It is not a logical contradiction to +imagine blue gold, as it would be to imagine two and two making five. +Any other proposition in mathematics possesses the same necessity. +That the angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal is a +necessary proposition. It could not be otherwise without +contradiction. Its opposite is unthinkable. But that Socrates is +standing is not a necessary truth. He might just as well be sitting. + +Since a mathematical proposition is necessarily true, its truth is +known without verification by experience. Having proved the +proposition about the isosceles triangle, we do not go about measuring +the angles of triangular objects to make sure there is no exception. +We know it without any experience at all. And if we {215} were +sufficiently clever, we might even evolve mathematical knowledge out +of the resources of our own minds, without its being told us by any +teacher. That Caesar was stabbed by Brutus is a fact which no amount +of cleverness could ever reveal to me. This information I can only get +by being told it. But that the base angles of an isosceles triangle +are equal I could discover by merely thinking about it. The +proposition about Brutus is not a necessary proposition. It might be +otherwise. And therefore I must be told whether it is true or not. But +the proposition about the isosceles triangle is necessary, and +therefore I can see that it must be true without being told. + +Now Plato did not clearly make this distinction between necessary and +non-necessary knowledge. But what he did perceive was that +mathematical knowledge can be known without either experience or +instruction. Kant afterwards gave a less fantastic explanation of +these facts. But Plato concluded that such knowledge must be already +present in the mind at birth. It must be recollected from a previous +existence. It might be answered that, though this kind of knowledge is +not gained from the experience of the senses, it may be gained from +teaching. It may be imparted by another mind. We have to teach +children mathematics, which we should not have to do if it were +already in their minds. But Plato's answer is that when the teacher +explains a geometrical theorem to the child, directly the child +understands what is meant, he assents. He sees it for himself. But if +the teacher explains that Lisbon is on the Tagus, the child cannot see +that this is true for himself. He must either believe the word {216} +of the teacher, or he must go and see. In this case, therefore, the +knowledge is really imparted from one mind to another. The teacher +transfers to the child knowledge which the child does not possess. But +the mathematical theorem is already present in the child's mind, and +the process of teaching merely consists in making him see what he +already potentially knows. He has only to look into his own mind to +find it. This is what we mean by saying that the child sees it for +himself. + +In the "Meno" Plato attempts to give an experimental proof of the +doctrine of recollection. Socrates is represented as talking to a +slave-boy, who admittedly has no education in mathematics, and barely +knows what a square is. By dint of skilful questioning Socrates +elicits from the boy's mind a theorem about the properties of the +square. The point of the argument is that Socrates tells him nothing +at all. He imparts no information. He only asks questions. The boy's +knowledge of the theorem, therefore, is not due to the teaching of +Socrates, nor is it due to experience. It can only be recollection. +But if knowledge is recollection, it may be asked, why is it that we +do not remember at once? Why is the tedious process of education in +mathematics necessary? Because the soul, descending from the world of +Ideas into the body, has its knowledge dulled and almost blotted out +by its immersion in the sensuous. It has forgotten, or it has only the +dimmest and faintest recollection. It has to be reminded, and it takes +a great effort to bring the half-lost ideas back to the mind. This +process of being reminded is education. + +With this, of course, is connected the doctrine of {217} +transmigration, which Plato took, no doubt, from the Pythagoreans. +Most of the details of Plato's doctrine of transmigration are mere +myth. Plato does not mean them seriously, as is shown by the fact that +he gives quite different and inconsistent accounts of these details in +different dialogues. What, in all probability, he did believe, +however, may be summarized as follows. The soul is pre-existent as +well as immortal. Its natural home is the world of Ideas, where at +first it existed, without a body, in the pure and blissful +contemplation of Ideas. But because it has affinities with the world +of sense, it sinks down into a body. After death, if a man has lived a +good life, and especially if he has cultivated the knowledge of Ideas, +philosophy, the soul returns to its blissful abode in the world of +Ideas, till, after a long period it again returns to earth in a body. +Those who do evil suffer after death severe penalties, and are then +reincarnated in the body of some being lower than themselves. A man +may become a woman. Men may even, if their lives have been utterly +sensual, pass into the bodies of animals. + + + +5. Ethics + +_(a) The Ethics of the Individual_ + +Just as Plato's theory of knowledge begins with a negative portion, +designed to refute false theories of what truth is, so does his theory +of morals begin with a negative portion, intended to refute false +theories of what virtue is. These two negative departments of Plato's +philosophy correspond in every way. As he was then engaged in showing +that knowledge is not perception, as Protagoras thought, so he now +urges that {218} virtue is not the same as pleasure. And as knowledge +is not mere right opinion, neither is virtue mere right action. The +propositions that knowledge is perception, and that virtue is +pleasure, are indeed only the same principle applied to different +spheres of thought. For the Sophists whatever appeared true to the +individual was true for that individual. This is the same as saying +that knowledge is perception. For the Sophists, again, whatever +appeared right to the individual was right for that individual. This +is the same as saying that it is right for each man to do whatever he +pleases. Virtue is defined as the pleasure of the individual. This +consequence of the Sophistic principles was drawn both by many of the +Sophists themselves, and later by the Cyrenaics. + +As these two propositions are thus in fact only one principle, what +Plato has said in refutation of the former provides also his +refutation of the latter. The theory that virtue is pleasure has the +same destructive influence upon morals as the theory that knowledge is +perception had upon truth. We may thus shortly summarize Plato's +arguments. + +(1) As the Sophistic theory of truth destroys the objectivity of +truth, so the doctrine that virtue is the pleasure of the individual +destroys the objectivity of the good. Nothing is good in itself. +Things are only good for me or for you. There results an absolute +moral relativity, in which the idea of an objective standard of +goodness totally disappears. + +(2) This theory destroys the distinction between good and evil. Since +the good is whatever the individual pleases, and since the pleasure of +one individual is the {219} displeasure of another, the same thing is +both good and evil at the same time, good for one person and evil for +another. Good and evil are therefore not distinct. They are the same. + +(3) Pleasure is the satisfaction of our desires. Desires are merely +feelings. This theory, therefore, founds morality upon feeling. But an +objective morality cannot be founded upon what is peculiar to +individuals. If the moral code is to be a law binding upon all men, it +can only be founded upon that which is common to all men, the +universal reason. + +(4) The end of moral activity must fall within, and not outside, the +moral act itself. Morality must have an intrinsic, not a merely +extrinsic, value. We must not do right for the sake of something else. +We must do right because it is right, and thus make virtue an end in +itself. But the Sophistic theory places the end of morality outside +morality. We are to do right, not for its own sake, but for the sake +of pleasure. Morality is thus not an end in itself, but merely a means +towards a further end. + +Virtue, therefore, is not pleasure, any more than knowledge is +perception. Likewise, just as knowledge is not right opinion, so +virtue is not right action. Right opinion may be held upon wrong +grounds, and right action may be performed on wrong grounds. For true +virtue we must not only know what is right, but why it is right. True +virtue is thus right action proceeding from a rational comprehension +of true values. Hence there arises in Plato's philosophy a distinction +between philosophic virtue and customary virtue. Philosophic virtue is +founded upon reason, and understands the {220} principle on which it +acts. It is, in fact, action governed by principles. Customary virtue +is right action proceeding from any other grounds, such as custom, +habit, tradition, good impulses, benevolent feelings, instinctive +goodness. Men do right merely because other people do it, because it +is customary, and they do it without understanding the reasons for it. +This is the virtue of the ordinary honest citizen, the "respectable" +person. It is the virtue of bees and ants, who act as if rationally, +but without any understanding of what they are doing. And Plato +observes--no doubt with an intentional spice of humour--that such +people may in the next life find themselves born as bees and ants. +Plato denies philosophic virtue not only to the masses of men, but +even to the best statesmen and politicians of Greece. + +As true virtue is virtue which knows at what it is aiming, the +knowledge of the nature of the highest aim becomes the chief question +of ethics. What is the end of moral activity? Now we have just seen +that that end must fall within, and not outside, the moral act. The +end of goodness is the good. What, then, is the good? What is the +supreme good, the _summum bonum_? + +A note of warning is necessary before we enter upon the details of +this problem. Plato frequently speaks of all moral activity aiming at, +and ending in, happiness. With modern phrases ringing in our ears, we +might easily suppose this to mean that Plato is a utilitarian. The +utilitarianism of Bentham and Mill is distinguished by the fact that +it places the end of morality in happiness. Yet Plato was not a +utilitarian, and would unhesitatingly have condemned the theory of +Mill. He {221} would have found it identical in principle with the +Sophistic doctrine that pleasure is the end of virtue. The only +difference is that, whereas the Sophists identified virtue with the +pleasure of the individual, Mill makes it the pleasure of the +community. That act is right which leads to "the greatest happiness of +the greatest number." In practice, of course, this makes a tremendous +difference. But the principle is equally objectionable because, like +the Sophistic theory, it founds morality upon mere feeling, instead of +upon reason, and because it places the end of morality outside +morality itself. Yet the formula of Mill, that the end of morals is +happiness, seems the same as Plato's formula. What is the difference? + +The fact is that what Mill calls happiness Plato would have called +pleasure. Pleasure is the satisfaction of one's desires, whether they +are noble or ignoble. Then what is happiness? It can only be defined +as the general harmonious well-being of life. Only that man is happy +whose soul is in the state it ought to be in, only in fact the just, +the good, and the moral man. Happiness has nothing to do with +pleasure. If you could conceive an absolutely just and upright man, +who was yet weighed down with every possible misery and disaster, in +whose life pleasure had no part, such a man would still be absolutely +happy. Happiness is, therefore, in Plato, merely another name for the +_summum bonum_. In saying that the _summum bonum_ is happiness, Plato +is not telling us anything about it. He is merely giving it a new +name. And we are still left to enquire: what is the _summum bonum_? +what is happiness? + +Plato's answer, as indeed his whole ethics, is but {222} an +application of the theory of Ideas. But here we can distinguish two +different and, to some extent, inconsistent strains of thought, which +exist side by side in Plato, and perpetually struggle for the mastery. +Both views depend upon the theory of Ideas. In the first place, the +Idea, in Plato's philosophy, is the sole reality. The object of sense +is unreal, and merely clogs and dims the soul's vision of the Ideas. +Matter is that which obstructs the free activity of the Idea. +Sense-objects hide the Idea from our view. Therefore the world of +sense is wholly evil. True virtue must consist in flying from the +world of sense, in retiring from the affairs of the world, and even +from the beauty of the senses, into the calm of philosophic +contemplation. And if this were all, philosophy, the knowledge of the +Ideas, would be the sole constituent of the _summum bonum_. But it is +possible to regard sense-objects in another light. They are, after +all, copies of the Ideas. They are therefore a manifestation and +revelation of the ideal world. Hence Plato is compelled by this +thought to allow a certain value to the world of sense, its affairs, +and its beauty. + +The result of this inconsistency is, at any rate, that Plato remains +broad and human. He does not, on the one hand, preach a purely selfish +retirement into philosophy, or a narrow ascetic ideal. He does not, on +the other hand, adopt a low utilitarian view of life, allowing value +only to that which is "practical." He remains true to the Greek ideal +of life as a harmonious play of all the faculties, in which no one +part of man is over-developed at the expense of the others. + +The result is that Plato's _summum bonum_ is not a single {223} end. +It is a compound consisting of four parts. First, and chief of all, is +the knowledge of the Ideas as they are in themselves, philosophy. +Secondly, the contemplation of the Ideas as they reveal themselves in +the world of sense, the love and appreciation of all that is +beautiful, ordered, and harmonious. Thirdly, the cultivation of the +special sciences and arts. And fourthly, indulgence in pure, refined, +and innocent pleasures of the senses, excluding, of course, whatever +is base and evil. + +Plato had also a specific doctrine of virtue. As already stated, he +distinguished between philosophic and customary virtue, and attached +absolute value only to the former. He does not, however, deny a +relative value to customary virtue, inasmuch as it is a means towards +true virtue. Plato saw that man cannot rise at one bound to the +pinnacles of rational virtue. He must needs pass through the +preparatory stage of customary virtue. In the man in whom reason is +not yet awakened, good habits and customs must be implanted, in order +that, when reason comes, it may find the ground ready prepared. + +Socrates had taught that virtue is one. And Plato in his earlier +writings adopted this view. But later on he came to see that every +faculty of man has its place and its function, and the due performance +of its function is a virtue. He did not, however, surrender the unity +of virtue altogether, but believed that its unity is compatible with +its plurality. There are four cardinal virtues. Three of these +correspond to the three parts of the soul, and the fourth is the unity +of the others. The virtue of reason is wisdom, of the noble half of +{224} the mortal soul courage, of the ignoble appetites, temperance or +self-control, in which the passions allow themselves to be governed by +reason. The fourth virtue, justice, arises from the others. Justice +means proportion and harmony, and accrues to the soul when all three +parts perform their functions and co-operate with each other. + +Following Zeller, we may add to this account of the virtues some of +Plato's views upon the details of life. And first, his opinion of +women and marriage. Here Plato does not rise above the level of +ordinary Greek morals. He has nothing specially original to say, but +reflects the opinions of his age. Women he regards as essentially +inferior to men. Moreover, the modern view of woman as the complement +of man, as possessing those special virtues of womanliness, which a +man lacks, is quite alien to Plato. The difference between men and +women is, in his view, not one of kind but only of degree. The only +specific difference between the sexes is the physical difference. +Spiritually they are quite the same, except that woman is inferior. +Hence Plato would not exclude women from the same education which man +receives. He would educate them in exactly the same way, but this +involves the imposition upon them of the same burdens. Even military +duties are not outside the sphere of women. + +His views of marriage flow from the same principle. Since woman is not +the complement of man, she is in no special sense fitted to be his +companion. Hence the ideal of spiritual companionship is absent from +Plato's view of marriage, the sole object of which, in his opinion, is +the propagation of children. The natural companion {225} of a man is +not a woman, but another man. The ideal of friendship, therefore, +takes the place of the spiritual ideal of marriage in Plato and, +indeed, among the ancients generally. + +Slavery is not denounced by Plato. He takes no trouble to justify it, +because he thinks it so obviously right that it needs no +justification. All that can be said to his credit is that he demands +humane and just, though firm and unsentimental, treatment of slaves. + +If in these respects Plato never transcends the Greek view of life, in +one matter at least he does so. The common view of his time was that +one ought to do good to one's friends and evil to one's enemies. This +Plato expressly repudiates. It can never be good, he thinks, to do +evil. One should rather do good to one's enemies, and so convert them +into friends. To return good for evil is no less a Platonic than a +Christian maxim. + + + +_(b) The State_. + + + +We pass from the ethics of individual life to the ethics of the +community. Plato's "Republic" is not an attempt to paint an imaginary +and unreal perfection. Its object is to found politics on the theory +of Ideas by depicting the Idea of the State. This State is, therefore, +not unreal, but the only real State, and its reality is the ground of +the existence of all actually existent States. + +We can trace here, too, the same two strains of thought as we found in +considering the ethics of the individual. On the one hand, since the +Idea alone is real, the existent world a mere illusion, the service of +the {226} State cannot be the ideal life for a rational being. +Complete retirement from the world into the sphere of Ideas is a far +nobler end, and the aims of the ordinary politician are, in +comparison, worthless baubles. Though only the philosopher is +competent to rule, yet he will not undertake the business of the +State, except under compulsion. In the political States, as they exist +in the world, the philosopher dwells with his body, but his soul is a +stranger, ignorant of their standards, unmoved by their ambitions. But +the opposite strain of thought is uppermost when we are told that it +is, after all, only in the State, only in his capacity as a citizen +and a social being that the individual can attain perfection. It is +only possible to reconcile these views in one way. If the ideals of +the State and of philosophy seem inconsistent, they must be brought +together by adapting the State to philosophy. We must have a State +founded upon philosophy and reason. Then only can the philosopher +dwell in it with his soul as well as with his body. Then only can +either the individual or the State reach perfection. To found the +State upon reason is the keynote of Plato's politics. + +And this gives us, too, the clue to the problem, what is the end of +the State? Why should there be a State at all? This does not mean, how +has the State arisen in history? We are not in search of the cause, +but of the reason, or end, of the State. The end of all life is +wisdom, virtue, and knowledge. The unassisted individual cannot reach +these ends. It is only by the State that they can be brought down from +heaven to earth. The end of the State is thus the virtue and happiness +(not pleasure) of the citizens. And since this is only possible {227} +through education, the State's primary function is educational. + +Since the State is to be founded upon reason, its laws must be +rational, and rational laws can only be made by rational men, +philosophers. The rulers must be philosophers. And since the +philosophers are few, we must have an aristocracy, not of birth, or of +wealth, but of intellect. The first operative principle of the State +is reason, the second is force. For it is not to be expected that the +irrational masses will willingly submit to rational laws. They must be +compelled. And since the work of the world must go on, the third +operative principle will be labour. Plato believed in the principle of +division of labour. Only he can excel at any occupation whose life is +devoted to it. Hence to the three operative principles correspond +three classes, castes, or professions. Reason is embodied in the +philosopher-rulers, force in the warriors, labour in the masses. This +division of the functions of the State is based upon the threefold +division of the soul. To the rational soul correspond the +philosopher-rulers, to the nobler half of the mortal soul the +warriors, to the appetitive soul the masses. Consequently the four +cardinal virtues belong to the State through the functioning of the +three classes. The virtue of the philosopher-rulers is wisdom, of the +warriors courage, of the masses, temperance. The harmonious +co-operation of all three produces justice. + +The rulers must not cease to be philosophers. Most of their time must +be spent in the study of the Ideas, philosophy, and only a portion in +the affairs of government. This is rendered possible by the system of +taking turns. Those who are not at any particular time {228} engaged +upon government retire into thought. The duty of the warriors is the +protection of the State, both against its external enemies, and +against the irrational impulses of the masses of its own citizens. +Normally, the latter will be their chief duty, the enforcement of the +decrees of the philosopher-rulers upon the masses. The masses will +engage themselves in trade, commerce, and agriculture. Both the other +ranks are prohibited from soiling their fingers with trade or +agriculture, upon which Plato, as a Greek aristocrat, looked down with +unbounded contempt. To what rank a citizen belongs is not determined +by birth, nor by individual choice. No individual can choose his own +profession. This will be determined by the officers of the State, who +will base their decision, however, upon the disposition and +capabilities of the individual. As they have also to decide the +numbers required for each rank, the magistrates also control the birth +of children. Parents cannot have children when they wish. The sanction +of the State is required. + +Since the end of the State is the virtue of the citizens, this +involves the destruction of whatever is evil and the encouragement of +whatever is good. To compass the destruction of evil, the children of +bad parents, or offspring not sanctioned by the State, will be +destroyed. Weak and sickly children will also not be allowed to live. +The positive encouragement of good involves the education of the +citizens by the State. Children from their earliest years do not +belong to their parents, but to the State. They are, therefore, at +once removed from the custody of their parents, and transferred to +State nurseries. Since the parents are to have no {229} property nor +interest in them, stringent means are adopted to see that, after +removal to the public nurseries, parents shall never again be able to +recognize their own children. All the details of the educational +curriculum are decreed by the State. Poetry, for example, is only +allowed in an emasculated form. Of the three kinds, epic, dramatic, +and lyric, the two former are banished from the State altogether, +because, in the base example of the immorality of the gods, which they +depict, they are powerful instruments in the propagation of evil. Only +lyric poetry is allowed, and that under strict supervision. The +subject, the form, even the metre, will be prescribed by the proper +authorities. Poetry is not recognized as valuable in itself, but only +as an educative moral influence. All poems, therefore, must strictly +inculcate virtue. + +It is, in Plato's opinion, intolerable that the individual should have +any interest apart from the interests of the State. Private interests +clash with those of the community, and must therefore be abolished. +The individual can possess no property either in material things, or +in the members of his family. This involves the community of goods, +community of wives, and the State ownership of children from their +birth. + + + +6. Views upon Art. + +In modern times aesthetics is recognized as a separate division of +philosophy. This was not the case in Plato's time, and yet his +opinions upon art cannot be fitted into either dialectic, physics, or +ethics. On the other hand, they cannot be ignored, and there is +nothing for it, therefore, but to treat them as a sort of appendix +{230} to his philosophy. Plato has no systematic theory of art, but +only scattered opinions, the most important of which will now be +mentioned. + +Most modern theories of art are based upon the view that art is an end +in itself, that the beautiful has, as such, absolute value, and not +value merely as a means to some further end. Upon such a view, art is +recognized as autonomous within its own sphere, governed only by its +own laws, judged only by its own standards. It cannot be judged, as +Tolstoi would have us believe, by the standard of morals. The +beautiful is not a means to the good. They may be indeed, ultimately +identical, but their identity cannot be recognized till their +difference has been admitted. Nor can one be subordinated to the +other. + +Now this view of art finds no place at all in Plato's thought. Art is, +for him, absolutely subservient both to morals and to philosophy. That +it subserves morality we see from the "Republic," where only that +poetry is allowed which inculcates virtue, and only because it +inculcates virtue. It is no sufficient justification of a poem to +plead that it is beautiful. Beautiful or not, if it does not subserve +the ends of morality, it is forbidden. Hence too the preposterous +notion that its exercise is to be controlled, even in details, by the +State. That this would mean the utter destruction of art either did +not occur to Plato, or if it did, did not deter him. If poetry cannot +exist under the yoke of morality, it must not be allowed to exist at +all. That art is merely a means to philosophy is even more evident. +The end of all education is the knowledge of the Ideas, and every +other subject, science, mathematics, art, is introduced into the {231} +educational curriculum solely as a preparation for that end. They have +no value in themselves. This is obvious from the teaching of the +"Republic," and it is even more evident in the "Symposium," where the +love of beautiful objects is made to end, not in itself, but in +philosophy. + +Plato's low estimate of art appears also in his theory of art as +imitation, and his contemptuous references to the nature of artistic +genius. As to the first, art is, to him, only imitation. It is the +copy of an object of the senses, and this again is only a copy of an +Idea. Hence a work of art is only a copy of a copy. Plato did not +recognise the creativeness of art. This view is certainly false. If +the aims of art were merely to imitate, a photograph would be the best +picture, since it is the most accurate copy of its object. What Plato +failed to see was that the artist does not copy his object, but +idealizes it. And this means that he does not see the object simply as +an object, but as the revelation of an Idea. He does not see the +phenomenon with the eyes of other men, but penetrates the sensuous +envelope and exhibits the Idea shining through the veils of sense. + +The second point is Plato's estimate of artistic genius. The artist +does not work by reason, but by inspiration. He does not, or he should +not, create the beautiful by means of rules, or by the application of +principles. It is only after the work of art is created that the +critic discovers rules in it. This does not mean that the discovery of +rules is false, but that the artist follows them unconsciously and +instinctively. If, for example, we believe Aristotle's dictum that the +object of tragedy {232} is to purge the heart by terror and pity, we +do not mean that the tragedian deliberately sets out to accomplish +that end. He does so without knowing or intending it. And this kind of +instinctive impulse we call the inspiration of the artist. Now Plato +fully recognizes these facts. But far from considering inspiration +something exalted, he thinks it, on the contrary, comparatively low +and contemptible, just because it is not rational. He calls it "divine +madness," divine indeed, because the artist produces beautiful things, +but madness because he himself does not know how or why he has done +it. The poet says very wise and beautiful things, but he does not know +why they are wise and beautiful. He merely feels, and does not +understand anything. His inspiration, therefore, is not on the level +of knowledge, but only of right opinion, which knows what is true, but +does not know why. + +Plato's views of art are thus not satisfactory. He is doubtless right +in placing inspiration below reason, and art below philosophy. They do +stand to each other in the relation of higher and lower. Not that such +a question can be decided by mere personal preferences. The usual +discussions whether art or philosophy is better, whether emotion or +reason is higher, are pointless and insipid, because the disputants +merely exalt their personal peculiarities. The man of artistic +temperament naturally prefers art, and says it is the highest. The +philosopher exalts philosophy above art, merely because it is his pet +hobby. This kind of discussion is futile. The matter must be decided +upon some principle. And the principle is quite clear. Both art and +philosophy have the same object, the {233} apprehension of the +Absolute, or the Idea. Philosophy apprehends it as it is in itself, +that is to say, as thought. Art apprehends it in a merely sensuous +form. Philosophy apprehends it in its truth, art in a comparatively +untrue way. Philosophy, therefore, is the higher. But while any true +philosophy of art must recognize this, it must not interpret it to +mean that art is to be made merely a means towards philosophy. It must +somehow find room for the recognition of the truth that art is an end +in itself, and it is in this that Plato fails. + +Aristotle, who had no spark of artistic capacity in his composition, +whose own writings are the severest of scientific treatises, did far +greater justice to art than Plato, and propounded a far more +satisfactory theory. Plato, himself a great artist, is utterly unjust +to art. Paradoxical as it may appear, the very reason why Aristotle +could be just to art was that he was no artist. Being solely a +philosopher, his own writings are scientific and inartistic. This +enables him to recognize art as a separate sphere, and therefore as +having its own rights. Plato could not keep the two separate. His +dialogues are both works of art and of philosophy. We have seen +already that this fact exercised an evil influence on his philosophy, +since it made him substitute poetic myths for scientific explanation. +Now we see that it exercised an equally evil influence on his views of +art. As a philosopher-artist his own practice is to use literary art +solely as a means towards the expression of philosophical ideas. And +this colours his whole view of art. It is, to him, nothing but a means +towards philosophy. And this is the tap-root of his entire view of the +subject. + + + +{234} + +7. Critical Estimate of Plato's Philosophy, + +If we are to form a just estimate of the value of Plato's philosophy, +we must not fritter away our criticism on the minor points, the +external details, the mere outworks of the system. We must get at the +heart and governing centre of it all. Amid the mass of thought which +Plato has developed, in all departments of speculation, that which +stands out as the central thesis of the whole system is the theory of +Ideas. All else is but deduction from this. His physics, his ethics, +his politics, his views upon art, all flow from this one governing +theory. It is here then that we must look, alike for the merits and +the defects of Plato's system. + +The theory of Ideas is not a something sprung suddenly upon the world +out of Plato's brain. It has its roots in the past. It is, as +Aristotle showed, the outcome of Eleatic, Heracleitean, and Socratic +determinations. Fundamentally, however, it grows out of the +distinction between sense and reason, which had been the common +property of Greek thinkers since the time of Parmenides. Parmenides +was the first to emphasize this distinction, and to teach that the +truth is to be found by reason, the world of sense being illusory. +Heracleitus, and even Democritus, were pronounced adherents of reason, +as against sense. The crisis came with the Sophists, who attempted to +obliterate the distinction altogether, and to find all knowledge in +sensation, thus calling forth the opposition of Socrates and Plato. As +against them Socrates pointed out that all knowledge is through +concepts, reason: and Plato added to this that the concept is not a +mere rule of thought but a metaphysical reality. This was the +substance of the theory of Ideas. {235} Every philosophy which makes a +systematic attempt to solve the riddle of the universe necessarily +begins with a theory of the nature of that absolute and ultimate +reality from which the universe is derived. This absolute reality we +will call simply the Absolute. Plato's theory is that the Absolute +consists of concepts. To say that the Absolute is reason, is thought, +is concepts, is the universal--these are merely four different +expressions of the same theory. Now this proposition, that the +Absolute is reason, is the fundamental thesis of all idealism. Since +Plato's time there have been several great idealistic systems of +philosophy. That the Absolute is reason is the central teaching of +them all. Plato, therefore, is the founder and initiator of all +idealism. It is this that gives him his great place in the history of +philosophy. That the Absolute is universal thought, this is what Plato +has contributed to the philosophical speculation of the world. This is +his crowning merit. + +But we must go somewhat more into details. We must see how far he +applied this principle successfully to the unravelment of the great +problems of philosophy. In lecturing upon the Eleatics, I said that +any successful philosophy must satisfy at least two conditions. It +must give such an account of the Absolute, that the Absolute is shown +as capable of explaining the world. It must be possible to deduce the +actual world of facts from the first principle. Secondly, not only +must this first principle explain the world; it must also explain +itself. It must be really ultimate, that is, we must not, in order to +understand it, have to refer to anything beyond and outside it. If we +have to do so then our ultimate is not an ultimate at all; our first +principle {236} is not first. That thing by means of which we explain +it must itself be the ultimate reality. And besides being ultimate, +our principle must be wholly intelligible. It must not be a mere +ultimate mystery; for to reduce the whole world to an ultimate mystery +is clearly not to explain it. Our first principle must, in a word, be +self-explanatory. Let us apply this two-fold test to Plato's system. +Let us see, firstly, whether the principle of Ideas explains the +world, and secondly, whether it explains itself. + +Does it explain the world? Is the actual existence of things, horses, +trees, stars, men, explained by it? What, in the first place, is the +relation between things and the Ideas? Things, says Plato, are +"copies," or "imitations" of the Ideas. They "participate" in the +Ideas. The Ideas are "archetypal" of things. Now all these phrases are +mere poetic metaphors. They do not really tell us how things are +related to Ideas. But suppose we ignore this, and assume, for the sake +of argument, that we understand what is meant by "participation" and +that things are, in the literal sense, "copies" of Ideas. The question +still remains, why do such copies exist, how do they arise? Now, if +this problem is to be solved, it is not enough to show, merely as a +fact, that, by some mysterious act, copies of Ideas come into +existence. There must be a reason for it, and this reason it is the +business of philosophy to explain. This reason, too, must exist in the +nature of the Ideas themselves, and not outside them. There must be, +in the very nature of the Ideas, some inner necessity which forces +them to reproduce themselves in things. This is what we {237} mean by +saying that the Ideas are a sufficient explanation of the existence of +things. But there is in Plato's Ideas no such necessity. The Ideas are +defined as being the sole reality. They have already all reality in +themselves. They are self-sufficient. They lack nothing. It is not +necessary for them further to realize their being in the concrete +manifestation of things, because they, as wholly real, need no +realization. Why, then, should they not remain for ever simply as they +are? Why should they go out of themselves into things? Why should they +not remain in themselves and by themselves? Why should they need to +reproduce themselves in objects? There are, we know, white objects in +the universe. Their existence, we are told, is explained by the Idea +of whiteness? But why should the Idea of whiteness produce white +things? It is itself the perfect whiteness. Why should it stir itself? +Why should it not remain by itself, apart, sterile, in the world of +Ideas, for all eternity? We cannot see. There is in the Ideas no +necessity urging them towards reproduction of themselves, and this +means that they possess no principle for the explanation of things. + +Nevertheless Plato has to make some attempt to meet the difficulty. +And as the Ideas are themselves impotent to produce things, Plato, +unable to solve the problem by reason, attempts to solve it by +violence. He drags in the notion of God from nowhere in particular, +and uses him as a _deus ex machina_. God fashions matter into the +images of Ideas. The very fact that Plato is forced to introduce a +creator shows that, in the Ideas themselves, there is no ground of +explanation. Things ought to be explained by the Ideas themselves, +{238} but as they are incapable of explaining anything, God is called +upon to do their work for them. Thus Plato, faced with the problem of +existence, practically deserts his theory of Ideas, and falls back +upon a crude theism. Or if we say that the term God is not to be taken +literally, and that Plato uses it merely as a figurative term for the +Idea of Good, then this saves Plato from the charge of introducing a +theism altogether inconsistent with his philosophy, but it brings us +back to the old difficulty. For in this case, the existence of things +must be explained by means of the Idea of the Good. But this Idea is +just as impotent as the other Ideas. + +In this connection, too, the dualism of Plato's system becomes +evident. If everything is grounded in the one ultimate reality, the +Ideas, then the entire universe must be clasped together in a system, +all parts of which flow out of the Ideas. If there exists in the +universe anything which stands aloof from this system, remains +isolated, and cannot be reduced to a manifestation of the Ideas, then +the philosophy has failed to explain the world, and we have before us +a confessed dualism. Now not only has Plato to drag in God for the +explanation of things, he has also to drag in matter. God takes matter +and forms it into copies of the Ideas. But what is this matter, and +where does it spring from? Clearly, if the sole reality is the Ideas, +matter, like all else, must be grounded in the Ideas. But this is not +the case in Plato's system. Matter appears as a principle quite +independent of the Ideas. As its being is self-derived and original, +it must be itself a substance. But this is just what Plato denies, +calling it absolute {239} not-being. Yet since it has not its source +in the Ideas or in anything outside itself, we must say that though +Plato calls it absolute not-being, it is in fact an absolute being. +The Ideas and matter stand face to face in Plato's system neither +derived from the other, equally ultimate co-ordinate, absolute +realities. This is sheer dualism. + +The source of this dualism is to be found in the absolute separation +which Plato makes between sense and reason. He places the world of +sense on one side, the world of reason on the other, as things +radically different and opposed. Hence it is impossible for him ever +to bridge the gulf that he has himself created between them. We may +expect the dualism of a philosophy which builds upon such premises to +break out at numerous points in the system. And so indeed it does. It +exhibits itself as the dualism of Ideas and matter, of the sense-world +and the thought-world, of body and soul. Not, of course, that it is +not quite right to recognize the distinction between sense and reason. +Any genuine philosophy must recognize that. And no doubt too it is +right to place truth and reality on the side of reason rather than +sense. But although sense and reason are distinct, they must also be +identical. They must be divergent streams flowing from one source. And +this means that a philosophy which considers the absolute reality to +be reason must exhibit sense as a lower form of reason. Because Plato +fails to see the identity of sense and reason, as well as their +difference, his philosophy becomes a continual fruitless effort to +overreach the dualism thus generated. + +Thus the answer to our first question, whether the theory of Ideas +explains the world of things, must be {240} answered in the negative. +Let us pass on to the second test. Is the principle of Ideas a +self-explanatory principle? Such a principle must be understood purely +out of itself. It must not be a principle, like that of the +materialist, which merely reduces the whole universe to an ultimate +mysterious fact. For even if it be shown that the reason of everything +is matter, it is still open to us to ask what the reason of matter is. +We cannot see any reason why matter should exist. It is a mere fact, +which dogmatically forces itself upon our consciousness without giving +any reason for itself. Our principle must be such that we cannot ask a +further reason of it. It must be its own reason, and so in itself +satisfy the demand for a final explanation. Now there is only one such +principle in the world, namely, reason itself. You can ask the reason +of everything else in the world. You can ask the reason of the sun, +the moon, stars, the soul, God, or the devil. But you cannot ask the +reason of reason, because reason is its own reason. Let us put the +same thought in another way. When we demand the explanation of +anything, what do we mean by explanation? What is it we want? Do we +not mean that the thing appears to us irrational, and we want it shown +that it is rational? When this is done, we say it is explained. Think, +for example, of what is called the problem of evil. People often talk +of it as the problem of the "origin of evil," as if what we want to +know is, how evil began. But even if we knew this, it would not +explain anything. Suppose that evil began because someone ate an +apple. Does this make the matter any clearer? Do we feel that all our +difficulties about the existence of evil are solved? No. This is {241} +not what we want to know. The difficulty is that evil appears to us +something irrational. The problem can only be solved by showing us +that somehow, in spite of appearances, it is rational that evil should +exist. Show us this, and evil is explained. Explanation of a thing, +then, means showing that the thing is rational. Now we can ask that +everything else in the world should be shown to be rational. But we +cannot demand that the philosopher shall show that reason is rational. +This is absurd. Reason is what is already absolutely rational. It is +what explains itself. It is its own reason. It is a self-explanatory +principle. This, then, must be the principle of which we are in +search. The Absolute, we said, must be a self-explanatory principle, +and there is only one such, namely, reason. The Absolute, therefore, +is reason. + +It was the greatness and glory of Plato to have seen this, and thereby +to have become the founder of all true philosophy. For to say that the +Absolute is concepts is the same as saying it is reason. It might +seem, then, that Plato has satisfied the second canon of criticism. He +takes as first principle a self-explanatory reality. But we cannot +quite so quickly jump to this conclusion. After all, the mere word +reason is not a key which will unlock to us the doors of the universe. +Something more is necessary than the mere word. We must, in fact, be +told what reason is. Now there are two senses in which we might ask +the question, what reason is, one of which is legitimate, the other +illegitimate. It is illegitimate to ask what reason is, in the sense +of asking that it shall be explained to us in terms of something else, +which is not reason. This would be {242} to give up our belief that +reason is its own reason. It would be to seek the reason of reason in +something which is not reason. It would be to admit that reason, in +itself, is not rational. And this is absurd. But it is legitimate to +ask, what reason is, meaning thereby, what is the _content_ of reason. +The content of reason, we have seen, is concepts. But what concepts? +How are we to know whether any particular concept is part of the +system of reason or not? Only, it is evident, by ascertaining whether +it is a rational concept. If a concept is wholly rational, then it is +a part of reason. If not, not. What we need, then, is a detailed +account of all the concepts which reason contains, and a proof that +each of these concepts is really rational. It is obvious that only in +this way can we make a satisfactory beginning in philosophy. Before we +can show that reason explains, that is, rationalizes the world, we +must surely first show that reason itself is rational, or rather, to +be more accurate, that _our conception_ of reason is rational. There +must not be any mere inexplicable facts, any mysteries, any dark +places, in our notion of reason. It must be penetrated through and +through by the light of reason. It must be absolutely transparent, +crystalline. How can we hope to explain the world, if our very first +principle itself contains irrationalities? + +Each concept then must prove itself rational. And this means that it +must be a necessary concept. A necessary proposition, we saw, is one, +such as that two and two equal four, the opposite of which is +unthinkable. So for Plato's Ideas to be really necessary it ought to +be logically impossible for us to deny their {243} reality. It ought +to be impossible to think the world at all without these concepts. To +attempt to deny them ought to be shown to be self-contradictory. They +ought to be so necessarily involved in reason that thought without +them becomes impossible. Clearly this is the same as saying that the +Ideas must not be mere ultimate inexplicable facts. Of such a fact we +assert merely that it is so, but we cannot see any reason for it. To +see a reason for it is the same as seeing its necessity, seeing not +merely that it is so, but that it must be so. + +Now Plato's Ideas are not of this necessary kind. There is, we are +told, an Idea of whiteness. But why should there be such an Idea? It +is a mere fact. It is not a necessity. We can think the world quite +well without the Idea of whiteness. The world, so far as we can see, +could get on perfectly well without either white objects or the Idea +of whiteness. To deny its reality leads to no self-contradictions. Put +it in another way. There are certainly white objects in the world. We +demand that these, among other things, be explained. Plato tells us, +by way of explanation, that there are white objects because there is +an Idea of whiteness. But in that case why is there an Idea of +whiteness? We cannot see. There is no reason. There is no necessity in +this. The same thing applies to all the other Ideas. They are not +rational concepts. They are not a part of the system of reason. + +But at this point, perhaps, a glimmer of hope dawns upon us. We ask +the reason for these Ideas. Has not Plato asserted that the ultimate +reason and ground of all the lower Ideas will be found in the supreme +Idea of {244} the Good? Now if this is so, it means that the lower +Ideas must find their necessity in the highest Idea. If we could see +that the Idea of the Good necessarily involves the other Ideas, then +these other Ideas would be really explained. In other words, we ought +to be able to deduce all the other Ideas from this one Idea. It ought +to be possible to show that, granted the Idea of the Good, all the +other Ideas necessarily follow, that to assume the Good and deny the +other Ideas would be self-contradictory and unthinkable. There are +examples in Plato of the kind of deduction we require. For example, in +the "Parmenides" he showed that the Idea of the one necessarily +involves the Idea of the many, and vice versa. You cannot think the +one without also thinking the many. This means that the many is +deduced from the one, and the one from the many. Just in the same way, +we ought to be able to deduce the Idea of whiteness from the Idea of +the Good. But this is clearly not possible. You may analyse the Good +as long as you like, you may turn it in every conceivable direction, +but you cannot get whiteness out of it. The two Ideas do not involve +each other. They are thinkable apart. It is quite possible to think +the Good without thinking whiteness. And it is the same with all the +other Ideas. None of them can be deduced from the Good. + +And the reason of this is very obvious. Just as the lower Ideas +contain only what is common among the things of a class, and exclude +their differences, so the higher Ideas include what is common to the +Ideas that come under them, but exclude what is not common. For +example, the Idea of colour contains what white, blue, red, and green, +have in common. But all colours {245} have not whiteness in common. +Green, for example, is not white. Hence the Idea of colour excludes +the Idea of whiteness, and it likewise excludes all the Ideas of the +other particular colours. So too the highest Idea of all contains only +what all the Ideas agree in, but all the rest falls outside it. Thus +the Idea of whiteness is perfect in its kind. And as all Ideas are +likewise perfect, the highest Idea is that in which they all agree, +namely, perfection itself. But this means that the perfection of the +Idea of whiteness is contained in the supreme Idea, but its specific +character in which it differs from other Ideas is excluded. Its +specific character is just its whiteness. Thus the perfection of +whiteness is contained in the Good, but its whiteness is not. +Consequently it is impossible to deduce whiteness from the Good, +because the Good does not contain whiteness. You cannot get out of it +what is not in it. When Plato deduced the many from the one, he did so +only by showing that the One contains the many. He cannot deduce +whiteness from goodness, because goodness does not contain whiteness. + +The lower Ideas thus have not the character of necessity. They are +mere facts. And the hope that we shall find their necessity in the +supreme Idea fails. But suppose we waive this. Suppose we grant that +there must be an Idea of whiteness, because there is an Idea of the +Good. Then why is there an Idea of the Good? What is the necessity of +that? We cannot see any necessity in it. What we said of the other +Ideas applies with equal force to the highest Idea. The Good may be a +necessary Idea, but Plato has not shown it. + +Thus, though Plato named reason as the Absolute, {246} and though +reason is a self-explanatory principle, his account of the detailed +content of reason is so unsatisfactory that none of the concepts which +he includes in it are really shown to be rational. His philosophy +breaks down upon the second test as it did upon the first. He has +neither explained the world from the Ideas, nor has he made the Ideas +explain themselves. + +There is one other defect in Plato's system which is of capital +importance. There runs throughout it a confusion between the notions +of reality and existence. To distinguish between existence and reality +is an essential feature of all idealism. Even if we go back to the dim +idealism of the Eleatics, we shall see this. Zeno, we saw, denied +motion, multiplicity, and the world of sense. But he did not deny the +existence of the world. That is an impossibility. Even if the world is +delusion, the delusion exists. What he denied was the reality of +existence. But if reality is not existence, what is it? It is Being, +replied the Eleatics. But Being does not exist. Whatever exists is +this or that particular sort of being. Being itself is not anywhere to +be found. Thus the Eleatics first denied that existence is reality, +and then that reality exists. They did not themselves draw this +conclusion, but it is involved in their whole position. + +With a fully developed idealism, like Plato's, this ought to be still +clearer. And, in a sense, it is. The individual horse is not real. But +it certainly exists. The universal horse is real. But it does not +exist. But, upon this last point, Plato wavered and fell. He cannot +resist the temptation to think of the absolute reality as existing. +And consequently the Ideas are {247} not merely thought as the real +universal in the world, but as having a separate existence in a world +of their own. Plato must have realised what is, in truth, involved in +his whole position, that the absolute reality has no existence. For he +tells us that it is the universal, and not any particular individual +thing. But everything that exists is an individual thing. Again, he +tells us that the Idea is outside time. But whatever exists must exist +at some time. Here then this central idealistic thought seems well +fixed in Plato's mind. But when he goes on to speak of recollection +and reincarnation, when he tells us that the soul before birth dwelt +apart in the world of Ideas, to which after death it may hope to +return, it is clear that Plato has forgotten his own philosophy, that +he is now thinking of the Ideas as individual existences in a world of +their own. This is a world of Ideas having a separate existence and +place of its own. It is not this world. It is a world beyond. Thus the +Platonic philosophy which began on a high level of idealistic +thinking, proclaiming the sole reality of the universal, ends by +turning the universal itself into nothing but an existent particular. +It is the old old story of trying to form mental pictures of that +which no picture is adequate to comprehend. Since all pictures are +formed out of sensuous materials, and since we can form no picture of +anything that is not an individual thing, to form a picture of the +universal necessarily means thinking of it as just what it is not, an +individual. So Plato commits the greatest sin that can be ascribed to +a philosopher. He treats thought as a thing. + +To sum up. Plato is the great founder of idealism, the initiator of +all subsequent truths in philosophy. {248} But, as always with +pioneers, his idealism is crude. It cannot explain the world; it +cannot explain itself. It cannot even keep true to its own principles, +because, having for the first time in history definitely enunciated +the truth that reality is the universal, it straightway forgets its +own creed and plunges back into a particularism which regards the +Ideas as existent individuals. It was these defects which Aristotle +set himself to rectify in a purer idealism, shorn of Plato's +impurities. + + + +{249} + +CHAPTER XIII + +ARISTOTLE + +1. Life, Writings, and general character of his Work. + +Aristotle was born in 384 B.C. at Stagirus, a Grecian colony and +seaport on the coast of Thrace. His father Nichomachus was court +physician to King Amyntas of Macedonia, and from this began +Aristotle's long association with the Macedonian Court, which +considerably influenced his life and destinies. While he was still a +boy his father died, and he was sent by his guardian, Proxenus, to +Athens, the intellectual centre of the world, to complete his +education. He was then aged seventeen. He joined the Academy and +studied under Plato, attending the latter's lectures for a period of +twenty years. In subsequent times, Aristotle's detractors, anxious to +vilify his character, accused him of "ingratitude" to his master, +Plato. It was said that Plato's old age had been embittered by +dissensions in the school caused by the factious spirit of Aristotle. +That there is no ground for attaching any blame to Aristotle for the +troubles of Plato, which either did not exist or have been grossly +exaggerated, is evident both from the facts within our knowledge and +from the reference to Plato in Aristotle's works. It is not likely +that, had Aristotle rendered himself genuinely objectionable, he could +have remained for twenty years in {250} the Academy, and only left it +upon the death of Plato. Moreover, although Aristotle in his works +attacks the teaching of Plato with unsparing vigour, there is nowhere +to be found in these attacks any suggestion of acrimony or personal +rancour. On the contrary, he refers to himself as the friend of Plato, +but a greater friend of the truth. The fact, in all probability, is +that a man of such independent and original mind as Aristotle did not +accord to Plato the kind of blind adoration and hero-worship which he +may have received from the inferior intellects in the school. As is so +often the case with young men of marked ability, the brilliant student +may have suffered from the impatience and self-assertion of youth. +There was certainly nothing worse. + +While at the Academy Aristotle exhibited an unflagging spirit and +unwearied zeal in the pursuit of knowledge in all its forms, a spirit +which gave rise to nick-names and anecdotes, which probably contained +as much truth, or as little, as most of the anecdotes which gather +round remarkable characters. One of these stories was that he used a +mechanical contrivance to wake him up whenever sleep threatened to put +an end to his hours of study. + +In 347 B.C. Plato died, and his nephew Speusippus was chosen as head +of the Academy. Aristotle left Athens with his fellow-student +Xenocrates, and together they repaired to the court of Hermeias, King +of Atarneus, in Asia Minor. Hermeias, a man of low origin, but of high +instincts and advanced education, had himself attended the lectures of +Plato, and received the two young philosophers as welcome guests. +Aristotle stayed three years at Atarneus, and, while there, married +{251} Pythias, the niece of the King. In later life he was married a +second time to one Herpyllis, who bore him a son, Nichomachus. At the +end of three years Hermeias fell a victim to the treachery of the +Persians, and Aristotle went to Mytilene. Here he remained for several +years till he received an invitation from Philip of Macedonia to +become the tutor of the young Alexander, afterwards conqueror of the +world, then aged thirteen. Aristotle obeyed the summons, and for about +five years superintended the education of Alexander. Both Philip and +Alexander appear to have paid Aristotle high honour, and there were +stories that he was supplied by the Macedonian court, not only with +funds for the prosecution of learning, but even with thousands of +slaves for the collection of specimens. These stories are probably +false and certainly exaggerated. But there is no doubt that, in his +scientific and philosophical enquiries, he was backed by the influence +of the court, and could even perhaps have looked to that quarter for +supplies, had it ever been necessary. + +Upon the death of Philip, Alexander succeeded to the kingship. The +period of his studies was now over, and he began to make preparations +for his subsequent conquests. Aristotle's work being finished, he +returned to Athens, which he had not visited since the death of Plato. +He found the Platonic school flourishing under Xenocrates, and +Platonism the dominant philosophy of Athens. He thereupon set up his +own school at a place called the Lyceum. It was in connection with +this that his followers became known, in after years, as the +"peripatetics," a name which arose from Aristotle's habit of walking +about as he discoursed. The period of {252} his residence in Athens +lasted thirteen years, during which time he was occupied in the +leadership of his school and in literary labours. This appears to have +been the most fruitful period of his life. There is no doubt that all +his most important writings were composed at this time. But at the end +of this period his fortunes changed. + +In B.C. 323 Alexander the Great died suddenly at Babylon in the midst +of his triumphs. The Athenian Government was in the hands of a +pro-Macedonian party. Upon the death of Alexander this party was +overthrown, and a general reaction occurred against everything +Macedonian. Alexander had been regarded in Greece much as Napoleon was +regarded in Europe a century ago. He had insulted the free Greek +cities. He had even sacked the city of Thebes. The whole of Greece +lived in perpetual terror of invasion. Now that this fear was removed +by his death, there was a general outburst of feeling against +Macedonia. An anti-Macedonian party came into power. Now Aristotle had +always been regarded as a representative and protege of the Macedonian +court, although, as a matter of fact, he had recently fallen out of +favour with the autocratic Alexander. A charge of impiety was trumped +up against him. To escape prosecution he fled to Chalcis in Euboea, in +order that, as he said, "the Athenians might not have another +opportunity of sinning against philosophy as they had already done in +the person of Socrates." He perhaps intended to return to Athens as +soon as the storm had blown over. But in the first year of his +residence at Chalcis he was overtaken by a sudden illness, and died at +the age of sixty-three, in B.C. 322. + +{253} + +Aristotle is said to have composed some four hundred books. Our +astonishment at this productivity diminishes somewhat when we remember +that what is here called a "book" is much the same as what we should +call a chapter in a modern treatise. More than three-quarters of these +writings have been lost. But, by good fortune, what remains to us is +undoubtedly by far the most important part, and we have preserved in +it a fairly complete account of the whole Aristotelian system in all +its departments. Nearly all the writings, however, have come down to +us in a mutilated state. This is especially the case with the +"Metaphysics." This treatise is unfinished, and it was probably left +unfinished by its author at his death. But apart from this, several of +the books of the "Metaphysics" are undoubtedly spurious. Others +apparently come in the wrong order. We end one book in the middle of a +discussion, and when we begin the next we find ourselves in the middle +of an entirely different subject. There are frequent repetitions, and +parts of it read as if they were mere lecture notes. There are many +interpolations. The same characteristics are to be observed in +Aristotle's other writings, though in a less degree. It seems probable +that they were not intended, in their present state, for publication. +Final revision and finishing touches are lacking. In spite of these +defects, the writings are voluminous and clear enough to enable us to +trace out the whole of the main positions of Aristotle's thought. + +We saw, in the case of Plato, that, as his literary activity lasted +over a period of half a century, during which his philosophy was in +constant development, it became important to trace this development in +the {254} order of his Dialogues. The same thing is not true in the +case of Aristotle. The whole of his writings, or rather those that +have come down to us, seem to have been written during his last +thirteen years, while he was at Athens, that is to say, after he had +passed his fiftieth year. His system was then complete, mature, and +fully developed. The question of the order in which they were written +has no great importance. The result of critical investigations, +however, is to show that he probably began with the various works upon +logic, composed next the treatises upon physical science, next the +ethical and political books, and lastly the "Metaphysics," which he +left unfinished. + +It must not be forgotten that Aristotle was not only a philosopher in +the modern restricted sense of that term. He was a man of universal +learning. There is no branch of knowledge which did not receive his +attention, and upon which he was not the greatest expert of his time, +except perhaps mathematics. So far was he from being only an abstract +philosopher, that his natural tastes seem to have lain rather in the +field of physical science than of abstract thought. But his design +seems to have been to work over the entire field of knowledge, +thoroughly to overhaul the sciences already in existence, rejecting +what seemed false in the work of his predecessors, and invariably +adding to the residue valuable developments and suggestions of his +own. Where there was no science already in existence, his plan +involved the foundation of new sciences wherever necessary, and he +thus became the founder of at least two sciences, Logic and Zoology. +He thus attained to a pre-eminence in all branches {255} of knowledge +which would be impossible for a single man in modern times. His works +include treatises upon Logic and Metaphysics, upon Ethics, Politics, +and Art. He wrote a treatise upon the principles of Rhetoric, another +upon Astronomy, under the title "On the Heavens," another upon +Meteorology. Several of his treatises deal with the biology of animal +life, in which he was intensely interested. They include books +entitled "On the Parts of Animals," "On the Movements of Animals," "On +the Origin of Animals," as well as his great treatise, "Researches on +Animals," which contains an enormous mass of facts collected from +every possible source. It is true that a large proportion of these +facts have turned out to be fictions, but this was inevitable in the +infancy of science. It has been calculated that Aristotle shows +himself acquainted with about five hundred different species of living +beings, though they are not, of course, classified by him in the +modern way. With these books upon animals he founded the science of +Zoology, for no one before his day had made any special study of the +subject. + +It has been said that everyone has either an Aristotelian or a +Platonic type of mind. As this implies that Aristotle and Plato are +opposites, it is considerably less than a half truth. No genuine +understanding of Aristotle can endorse the opinion that his +philosophical system was the opposite of Plato's. It would be truer to +say that Aristotle was the greatest of all Platonists, since his +system is still founded upon the Idea, and is an attempt to found an +idealism free from the defects of Plato's system. It is in fact a +development of Platonism. What is the cause then of the popular notion +that {256} Aristotle was the opposite of Plato? Now the fact is that +they _were_ opposites in many important respects. But there was a +fundamental agreement between them which lies deeper than the +differences. The differences are largely superficial, the agreement is +deep-seated. Hence it is the differences that are most obvious, and it +was the differences, too, which were most obvious to Aristotle +himself. The popular opinion arises largely from the fact that +Aristotle never loses an opportunity of attacking the Platonic theory +of Ideas. He is continually at pains to emphasize the difference +between himself and Plato, but says nothing of the agreement. But no +man is a judge of his own deeper relations to his predecessors and +contemporaries. It is only in after years, when the hubbub of +controversy has settled down into the silence of the past, that the +historian can see the true perspective, and can penetrate the +relations of each great man to the time in which he lived. Plato was +the founder of idealism, and his idealism was in many respects crude +and untenable. It was the special mission of Aristotle to clear away +these crudities, and so develop Platonism into a tenable philosophy. +And it was natural that he should emphasize the crudities, which he +had to fight so hard to overcome, rather than that substratum of truth +which Plato had already developed, and which therefore required no +special treatment at his hands. It was the differences between himself +and his predecessor which were most obvious to him, and it was +inevitable that he should adopt a thoroughly polemical attitude +towards his master. + +But if the agreement was more deep-seated than the differences, and +lay in the recognition of the Idea as the {257} absolute foundation of +the world, the differences were none the less very striking. In the +first place, Aristotle loved facts. What he wanted was always definite +scientific knowledge. Plato, on the other hand, had no love of facts +and no gift for physical enquiries. And what disgusted Aristotle about +the system of Plato was the contempt which it poured upon the world of +sense. To depreciate objects of sense, and to proclaim the knowledge +of them valueless, was a fundamental characteristic of all Plato's +thinking. But the world of sense is the world of facts, and Aristotle +was deeply interested in facts. No matter in what branch of knowledge, +any fact was received by Aristotle with enthusiasm. To Plato it +appeared of no interest what the habits of some obscure animal might +be. That alone which should be pursued is the knowledge of the Idea. +And he went so far as to deny that knowledge of the sense-world could +properly be described as knowledge at all. But the habits of animals +appeared to Aristotle a matter worthy of investigation for its own +sake. Francis Bacon in his "Novum Organum" has many contemptuous +references to Aristotle. And the gist of them all is that Aristotle +had no regard for facts, but theorized a priori out of his head, and +that instead of patiently investigating the facts of nature, he +decided, upon so-called "rational" grounds, what nature ought to do, +and squared the facts with his theories. + +It was natural for Bacon to be unjust to him. He, with the other +thinkers of his time, was engaged upon an uphill fight against +scholasticism, then dominant, which claimed to represent the true +teaching of Aristotle. And it was true that the schoolmen theorized a +priori, {258} and ignored facts, or, what was worse, appealed to the +writings of Aristotle to decide questions of fact which should have +been decided by an appeal to nature. And Bacon not unnaturally +confounded Aristotle with these modern Aristotelians, and attributed +to him the faults that were really theirs. But no man was ever keener +on facts than Aristotle as is proved by his treatises upon animals, +which contain evidences of astonishing patience and laborious work in +the collection of facts. It is true, however, that even in the domain +of facts, Aristotle, like all the ancients, was guilty of introducing +_a priori_ reasonings when they were quite out of place. Thus he does +not scruple to argue that the stars must move in circles because the +circle is the perfect figure. And numerous similar instances could be +quoted. But it was inevitable that, with science in its swaddling +clothes, without the aid of any instruments, or of any body of +previously ascertained truths, Aristotle should fall into these +snares. He well understood the fundamental necessity of all natural +sciences for a laborious investigation of facts, but, when this was +impossible, he used the only means in his power, his reason. + +Secondly, in spite of Plato's rationalism, he had allowed to myths and +poetry a large share in the development of his thoughts, and had even +exhibited a distinct tendency towards mysticism. Here again what +Aristotle wanted was definite knowledge. It pained him to see poetic +metaphors substituted for rational explanation. And this accounts for +the third main difference between Plato and Aristotle, the marked +contrast in their prose styles. Plato was a master-artist in words. +Aristotle cared nothing for the ornaments and beauties of style. {259} +He harshly excludes them from his work. What alone he is intent upon +is the meaning, the truth that the words express. He is too much in +earnest with philosophy to lose himself in a haze of beautiful words, +or to be put off with metaphors instead of reasons. His style is even +harsh, abrupt, and ugly. But what it loses in beauty it gains in +clearness of conception. For every thought or shade of thought which +it is desired to express there is an accurate term. If no term in +common use will express the thought, Aristotle coins one. Hence he is +one of the greatest terminologists that ever lived. He adapted or +invented an enormous number of terms. He may be not unjustly regarded +as the founder of philosophical language, as the inventor of a +vocabulary of technical terms. Many of the terms used to this day to +express man's most abstract thoughts, were invented or introduced by +Aristotle. It must not be supposed that Aristotle wrote in a rigidly +scientific style because he had no aesthetic sense. The very contrary +is the case. His treatise on art shows him by far the best critic of +the ancient world, and in his appreciation and estimation of the +beautiful he far excels Plato. But he saw that art and science have +each their own sphere, and that it is fatal to confuse the two. +Nothing is so damaging to art as to be made the mere vehicle of +reasoning. Nothing is so damaging to philosophy as to allow itself to +be governed by poetry. If we want beauty, we must follow the path of +art. But if we desire truth, we must stick close to reason. + +Aristotle's system falls most easily into the fivefold division of +logic, metaphysics, physics, ethics, and aesthetics. + +{260} + +2. Logic. + +Not much need be said under this head, because whoever knows the +common logic of the text-books knows the logic of Aristotle. Of the +two branches of reasoning, deductive and inductive, Aristotle clearly +recognizes the latter. And many of his observations upon induction are +acute and penetrating. But he has not reduced induction to a science. +He has not laid bare the fundamental canons of inductive thought. This +was a work not performed until comparatively modern times. His name +therefore is more especially associated with deductive logic, of which +he was the founder. He not only founded the science, but practically +completed it. What we now know as "formal logic," what is to this day +contained in all text-books, taught in all schools and universities, +is, in all its essentials, nothing more than the logic of Aristotle. +His writings upon the subject include the treatment of the well-known +laws of thought, the doctrine of the ten categories, the five +predicables, the doctrines of terms, of propositions, of syllogisms, +and of the reduction of the other figures to the first figure of the +syllogism. And these heads might well form the list of contents of a +modern work on formal logic. In only two respects has any advance been +made upon Aristotle by subsequent logicians. The fourth figure of the +syllogism is not recognized by Aristotle; and he dealt only with +categorical syllogisms, and does not treat conditional syllogisms. But +whether or not the fourth figure of the syllogism has any value is +still a matter open to dispute. And though the doctrine of conditional +syllogisms is important, it is not essential, because all conditional +syllogisms can be reduced to categorical {261} syllogisms. The +categorical syllogism is the fundamental type of reasoning, to which +every other form of deduction can be reduced. As for the rest of the +huge treatises on formal logic which some moderns have produced, the +supposed additions are nothing but wearisome, endless, useless, +nauseating, academic distinctions and refinements, which are much +better forgotten than remembered. Aristotle's logic contains therefore +all that is essential to the subject. The only ground on which it can +be attacked is its wholly empirical procedure. But that is another +story. As a collection, arrangement, and analysis of the facts of +reason, it is to all intents and purposes finality achieved at one +stroke. + + + +3. Metaphysics. + +The treatise now known as the "Metaphysics" of Aristotle did not +originally bear that name. Aristotle's name for this subject is "first +philosophy," by which he means the knowledge of the first, highest, or +most general principles of the universe. All other branches of +knowledge are subordinate to this science, not because they are +inferior in value, but because they are lower in logical sequence as +dealing with principles less universal in their scope. Thus all the +special sciences deal with one or another particular sphere of being, +but the "first philosophy" has for its subject being as such, "being +so far forth as it is being." It studies, not the characteristics of +this or that kind of being, but the principles which are equally true +of all being. The laws of Zoology apply only to animals, but the +principles of the "first philosophy" apply to everything. The name +"metaphysics" came into use only half a century B.C., when {262} +Andronicus published a complete edition of Aristotle's known works. In +this edition the treatise on "first philosophy" was placed after the +"physics," and "metaphysics" signifies simply "after physics." The +derivation of the word thus appears to be merely accidental and +adventitious. Whether it was also in any way intended to signify that +the subject is "beyond physics," that is, deals with what transcends +physical existence, seems doubtful. + +Aristotle's metaphysical theory grows naturally out of his polemic +against Plato's theory of Ideas, because his own system was in effect +simply an attempt to overcome the defects which he found in Plato. The +main heads of this polemic are the following:-- + +(1) Plato's Ideas do not explain the existence of things. To explain +why the world is here is after all the main problem of philosophy, and +Plato's theory fails to do this. Even admitting that, say, the Idea of +whiteness exists, we cannot see how it produces white objects. + +(2) Plato has not explained the relation of Ideas to things. Things, +we are told, are "copies" of Ideas, and "participate" in them. But how +are we to understand this "participation"? In using such phrases, says +Aristotle, Plato is giving no real account of the relationship, but is +merely "uttering poetic metaphors." + +(3) Even if the existence of things is explained by the Ideas, their +motion is not. Suppose that the Idea of whiteness produces white +things, the Idea of beauty beautiful things, and so on, yet, since the +Ideas themselves are immutable and motionless, so will be the world +which is their copy. Thus the universe would be {263} absolutely +static, like Coleridge's "painted ship upon a painted ocean." But the +world, on the contrary, is a world of change, motion, life, becoming. +Plato makes no attempt to explain the unceasing becoming of things. +Even if the Idea of whiteness explains white objects, yet why do these +objects arise, develop, decay, and cease to exist? To explain this +there must be some principle of motion in the Ideas themselves. But +there is not. They are immovable and lifeless. + +(4) The world consists of a multitude of things, and it is the +business of philosophy to explain why they exist. By way of +explanation Plato merely assumes the existence of another multitude of +things, the Ideas. But the only effect of this is to double the number +of things to be explained. How does it help thus to duplicate +everything? And Aristotle likens Plato to a man who, being unable to +count with a small number, fancies that, if he doubles the number, he +will find it easier to count. + +(5) The Ideas are supposed to be non-sensuous, but they are, in fact, +sensuous. Plato thought that a non-sensuous principle must be sought +in order to explain the world of sense. But not being able to find any +such principle, he merely took the objects of sense over again and +called them non-sensuous. But there is, in fact, no difference between +the horse and the Idea of the horse, between the man and the Idea of +the man, except a useless and meaningless "in-itself" or "in-general" +attached to each object of sense to make it appear something +different. The Ideas are nothing but hypostatized things of sense, and +Aristotle likens them to the anthropomorphic gods of the popular +religion. "As {264} these," he says, "are nothing but deified men, so +the Ideas are nothing but eternalized things of nature." Things are +said to be copies of Ideas, but in fact the Ideas are only copies of +things. + +(6) Next comes the argument of the "third man," so called by Aristotle +from the illustration by which he explained it. Ideas are assumed in +order to explain what is common to many objects. Wherever there is a +common element there must be an Idea. Thus there is a common element +in all men, and therefore there is an Idea of man. But there is also +an element common to the individual man and to the Idea of man. There +must, therefore, be a further Idea, the "third man," to explain this. +And between this further Idea and the individual man there must be yet +another Idea to explain what they have in common, and so on _ad +infinitum_. + +(7) But by far the most important of all Aristotle's objections to the +ideal theory, and that which, to all intents and purposes, sums up all +the others, is that it assumes that Ideas are the essences of things, +and yet places those essences outside the things themselves. The +essence of a thing must be in it, and not outside it. But Plato +separated Ideas from things, and placed the Ideas away somewhere in a +mysterious world of their own. The Idea, as the universal, can only +exist in the particular. Possibly the reality in all horses is the +universal horse, but the universal horse is not something that exists +by itself and independently of individual horses. Hence Plato was led +into the absurdity of talking as if, besides the individual horses we +know, there is somewhere another individual called the +horse-in-general, or as if besides white objects there is a thing +called {265} whiteness. And this is in fact the supreme +self-contradiction of the theory of Ideas, that it begins by saying +that the universal is real, and the particular unreal, but ends by +degrading the universal again into a particular. This is the same +thing as saying that Plato's mistake lay in first (rightly) seeing +that existence is not reality, but then (wrongly) going on to imagine +that the reality is an existence. + +Out of this last objection grows Aristotle's own philosophy, the +fundamental principle of which is that the universal is indeed the +absolute reality, but that it is a universal which exists only in the +particular. What is reality? What is substance? This is the first +question for the metaphysician. Now substance is what has an +independent existence of its own; it is that whose being does not flow +into it from any source outside itself. Consequently, substance is +what is never a predicate; it is that to which all predicates are +applied. Thus in the proposition, "Gold is heavy," gold is the +subject, or substance, and "heavy" is its predicate. The heaviness is +dependent for its existence on the gold, and it is therefore the +latter, and not the former, that is the substance. + +Now, keeping this in mind, are universals, as Plato asserts, +substances? No; because the universal is merely a common predicate +which attaches to many objects of a class. Thus the concept of man is +merely what is common to all men. It is the same thing as the +predicate "humanness." But humanness cannot exist apart from human +beings, any more than heaviness apart from the heavy object. +Universals, then, are not substances. But neither are particulars +substances. For there is no such thing as that which is absolutely +{266} particular and isolated. If humanness does not exist apart from +men, neither do men exist apart from humanness. Take away from a man +what he has in common with other men, and what he has in common with +other objects, and you will find that, having stripped him of all his +qualities, there is absolutely nothing left. We say gold is heavy, +yellow, malleable, etc. Now the heaviness, the yellowness, and the +other qualities, cannot exist apart from the gold. But it is equally +true that the gold cannot exist apart from its qualities. Strip off +all its qualities in thought, and then ask yourself what the gold +itself is apart from its qualities. You will find that your mind is a +total blank. In taking away the qualities you have taken away the gold +itself. The gold can only be thought through its qualities. It only +exists through its qualities. The gold, therefore, just as much +depends on the qualities for its existence as the qualities depend +upon the gold. Hence neither of them, considered apart from the other, +is substance. But the qualities are the universal element in the gold, +the gold without the qualities is the absolutely particular and +isolated. For, first, the yellowness is a quality which this gold has +in common with that gold, and is therefore a universal, and so with +all the qualities. Even if a particular piece of gold has a quality +possessed by no other gold, it is yet possessed by some other object +in the universe, or it would be unknowable. Every quality is +consequently a universal. Secondly, the gold without its qualities is +the absolutely particular. For, being stripped of all qualities, it is +stripped of whatever it has in common with other things; it is +stripped of whatever universality it has, and it remains an absolute +particular. Hence the {267} universal is not substance, nor is the +particular. For neither of them can exist without the other. Substance +must be a compound of the two; it must be the universal in the +particular. And this means that that alone which is substance is the +individual object, for example, the gold with all its qualities +attached to it. + +It is usually believed that Aristotle contradicted himself in as much +as he first states, as above, that the individual object, the compound +of universal and particular, is substance, but later on allows a +superior reality to the universal, or "form" as he calls it, and in +effect teaches, like Plato, that the universal is what alone is +absolutely real, that is, that the universal is substance. I do not +agree that there is any real inconsistency in Aristotle. Or rather, +the inconsistency is one of words and not of thought. It must be +remembered that, whenever Aristotle says that the individual, and not +the universal, is substance, he is thinking of Plato. What he means to +deny is that the universal can exist on its own account, as Plato +thought. Nevertheless he agrees with Plato that the universal is the +real. When he says that the universal is not substance he means, as +against Plato, that it is not existent. What alone exists is the +individual thing, the compound of universal and particular. When he +says, or implies, that the universal is substance, he means that, +though it is not existent, it is real. His words are contradictory, +but his meaning is not. He has not expressed himself as clearly as he +should; that is all. + +The further development of Aristotle's metaphysics depends upon his +doctrine of causation. By causation here, however, is meant a very +much wider conception {268} than what is understood by that term in +modern times. I have in previous lectures attempted to make clear the +distinction between causes and reasons. The cause of a thing does not +give any reason for it, and therefore does not explain it. The cause +is merely the mechanism by which a reason produces its consequence. +Death is caused by accident or disease, but these causes explain +nothing as to why death should be in the world at all. Now if we +accept this distinction, we may say that Aristotle's conception of +causation includes both what we have called causes and reasons. +Whatever is necessary, whether facts or principles, whether causes or +reasons, fully to understand the existence of a thing, or the +happening of an event, is included in the Aristotelian notion of +causation. + +Taking causation in this wide sense, Aristotle finds that there are +four kinds of causes, the material, the efficient, the formal, and the +final cause. These are not alternative causes; it is not meant that, +to explain anything, one or other of the four must be present. In +every case of the existence or production of a thing all four causes +operate simultaneously. Moreover the same four causes are to be found +both in human and in cosmic production, in the making of manufactured +articles by man and in the production of things by nature. They are +more clearly and easily seen, however, in human production, from which +sphere, therefore, we select our example. The material cause of a +thing is the matter of which it is composed. It is the raw material +which becomes the thing. For example, in the making of a bronze statue +of Hermes, the bronze is the material cause of the statue. This +example might lead one to suppose {269} that Aristotle means by +material cause what we call matter, physical substance, such as brass, +iron, or wood. As we shall see later, this is not necessarily the +case, though it is so in the present instance. The efficient cause is +always defined by Aristotle as the cause of motion. It is the energy +or moving force required to bring about change. It must be remembered +that by motion Aristotle means not merely change of place but change +of any sort. The alteration of a leaf from green to yellow is just as +much motion, in his sense, as the falling of a stone. The efficient +cause, then, is the cause of all change. In the example taken, what +causes the bronze to become a statue, what produces this change, is +the sculptor. He is, therefore, the efficient cause of the statue. The +formal cause Aristotle defines as the substance and essence of the +thing. Now the essence of a thing is given in its definition. But the +definition is the explication of the concept. Therefore the formal +cause is the concept, or, as Plato would call it, the Idea of the +thing. Plato's Ideas thus reappear in Aristotle as formal causes. The +final cause is the end, purpose, or aim, towards which the movement is +directed. When a statue is being produced, the end of this activity, +what the sculptor aims at, is the completed statue itself. And the +final cause of a thing in general is the thing itself, the completed +being of the object. + +We can see at once how much wider this conception of causation is than +the modern conception. If we take Mill's definition of a cause as the +best expression of modern scientific ideas, we find that he defines a +cause as the "invariable and unconditional antecedent of a +phenomenon." This cuts out final causes at once. For {270} the final +cause is the end, and is not an antecedent in time. It also does not +include formal causes. For we do not now think of the concept of a +thing as being part of its cause. This leaves us with only material +and efficient causes, and these correspond roughly to the modern +notions of matter and energy. Even the efficient causes of Aristotle, +however, appear on further consideration, to be excluded from the +modern idea of causation. For, though the efficient cause is the +energy which produces motion, modern science regards it as purely +mechanical energy, whereas Aristotle thinks of it, as we shall see, as +an ideal force, operating not from the beginning but from the end. But +it must not be supposed that, in saying that the modern idea of +causation excludes formal and final causes, we mean that Aristotle is +wrong in adding them, or that the modern idea is better than +Aristotle's. It is not a question of better and worse at all. Modern +science does not in any way deny the reality of formal and final +causes. It merely considers them to be outside its sphere. It is no +business of science whether they exist or not. As knowledge advances, +differentiation and division of labour occur. Science takes as its +province mechanical causes, and leaves formal and final causes to the +philosopher to explicate. Thus, for example, formal causes are not +considered by science because they are not, in the modern sense, +causes at all. They are what we have called reasons. If we are to +explain the existence of an object in the universe it may be necessary +to introduce formal causes, concepts, to show why the thing exists, to +show in fact its reasons. But science makes no attempt to explain the +existence of objects. It takes their {271} existence for granted, and +seeks to trace their history and their relations to each other. +Therefore it does not require formal causes. It seeks to work out the +mechanical view of the universe, and therefore considers only +mechanical causes. But Aristotle's theory, as being philosophy rather +than science, includes both the principles of mechanism and teleology. + + +It was not Aristotle's habit to propound his theories as if they were +something absolutely new, sprung for the first time out of his own +brain. In attacking any problem, his custom was to begin by +enumerating current and past opinions, to criticise them, to reject +what was valueless in them, to retain the residue of truth, and to add +to it his own suggestions and original ideas. The resultant of this +process was his own theory, which he thus represented, not as +absolutely new, but as a development of the views of his predecessors. +This course he follows also in the present instance. The first book of +the "Metaphysics" is a history of all previous philosophy, from Thales +to Plato, undertaken with the object of investigating how far the four +causes had been recognized by his predecessors. The material cause, he +says, had been recognized from the first. The Ionics believed in this +and no other cause. They sought to explain everything by matter, +though they differed among themselves as to the nature of the material +cause, Thales describing it as water, Anaximenes as air. Later +philosophers also gave different accounts of it, Heracleitus thinking +it was fire, Empedocles the four elements, Anaxagoras an indefinite +number of kinds of matter. But the point is that they all recognized +the necessity for a material cause of some sort to explain the +universe. + +{272} + +The earliest thinkers, then, the Ionics, assumed only this one cause. +But as thought advanced, says Aristotle, and other philosophers came +upon the scene, "the thing itself guided them." It was seen that a +second cause was necessary to explain the motion and becoming of +things. For matter itself does not produce its motion. Wood is not the +cause of its becoming a bed, nor is brass the cause of its becoming a +statue. Hence arose the idea of the efficient cause. The Eleatics did +not recognize it, for they denied motion, and for them, therefore, no +cause of motion could be assumed. But Parmenides, Aristotle thinks, +wavered on this point, somehow allowing vaguely the existence of a +second cause, which he denominated the hot and the cold. The reference +is, of course, to the second part of the poem of Parmenides. Other +philosophers clearly assumed an efficient cause, for they thought that +one element, for example, fire, is more active, that is, more +productive of motion, than others. Empedocles certainly attained to +the idea of an efficient cause, for he named as moving forces, harmony +and discord, love and hate. Anaxagoras also, used Nous as a moving +force. + +Formal causes had, perhaps, been recognized by the Pythagoreans, for +numbers are forms. But they straightway degraded the formal cause to +the level of a material cause by declaring that number is the stuff or +matter of which things are made. Plato alone clearly saw the necessity +for the formal cause, for formal causes are, as we have seen, the same +as Plato's Ideas. But Plato's philosophy contains only two of the four +causes, namely the material and the formal, for Plato made all things +out of matter and the Ideas. Since the Ideas have in them {273} no +principle of motion, Plato's system contains no efficient cause. As +for final causes, Plato had indeed the vague idea that everything is +for the sake of the Good, but he makes no use of this conception and +does not develop it. Final causes were introduced into philosophy by +Anaxagoras, whose doctrine of the world forming mind was assumed to +explain the design and purpose which the universe exhibits. But as his +system developed he forgot about this, and used the Nous merely as a +piece of mechanism to explain motion, thus letting it sink into +nothing more than an efficient cause. + +In the result, Aristotle finds that all four causes have been +recognized in greater or lesser degrees by his predecessors, and this, +in his opinion, greatly reinforces his own doctrine. But whereas +material and efficient causes have been clearly understood, his +predecessors had only vaguely foreshadowed and dimly perceived the +value of formal and final causes. + +The next step in Aristotle's metaphysics is to reduce these four +principles to two, which he calls matter and form. This reduction +takes place by showing that formal cause, efficient cause, and final +cause, all melt into the single conception of form. In the first +place, the formal cause and the final cause are the same. For the +formal cause is the essence, the concept, the Idea, of the thing. Now +the final cause, or the end, is simply the realisation of the Idea of +the thing in actuality. What the thing aims at is the definite +expression of its form. It thus aims at its form. Its end, final +cause, is thus the same as its formal cause. Secondly, the efficient +cause is the same as the final cause. For the efficient cause is the +cause of becoming. The final cause is the end of {274} the becoming, +it is what it becomes. And, in Aristotle's opinion, what causes the +becoming is just that it aims at the end. The striving of all things +is towards the end, and exists because of the end. The end is thus +itself the cause of becoming or motion. That is to say, the final +cause is the real efficient cause. We may see this better by an +example. The end or final cause of the acorn is the oak. And it is the +oak which is the cause of the acorn's growth, which consists +essentially in a movement by which the acorn is drawn towards its end, +the oak. We may see this even more definitely in the case of human +productions, because here the striving towards an end is conscious, +whereas in nature it is unconscious or instinctive. The efficient +cause of the statue is the sculptor. It is he that moves the brass. +But what moves the sculptor, and causes him to act upon the brass, is +the idea of the completed statue in his mind. The idea of the end, the +final cause, is thus the real ultimate cause of the movement. Only, in +the case of human production, the idea of the end is actually present +in the sculptor's mind as a motive. In nature there is no mind in +which the end is conscious of itself, but nevertheless nature moves +towards the end, and the end is the cause of the movement. Thus the +three causes named all melt into a single notion, which Aristotle +calls the form of the thing. And this leaves only the material cause +unreduced to any other. So we are left with the single antithesis of +matter and form. + +Now as matter and form are the fundamental categories of Aristotle's +philosophy, by means of which he seeks to explain the entire universe, +it is essential that we should thoroughly understand their +characteristics. {275} First of all, matter and form are inseparable. +We think of them as separate in order to understand them clearly. And +this is quite right, because they are opposite principles, and +therefore they are separable in thought. But they are never separable +in fact. There is no such thing as form without matter, or matter +without form. Every existent thing, that is, every individual object, +is a compound of matter and form. We may compare them in this respect +to the material and the shape of a thing, though we must be careful +not to think that form is merely shape. Geometry considers shapes as +if they existed by themselves. But, in fact, we know that there are no +such things as squares, circles, and triangles. There are only square +objects, circular objects, etc. And as there are no shapes without +objects, so there are no objects without shapes. We talk of things +being "shapeless," but this only means that their shape is irregular +or unusual. Some shape an object must have. Yet, though shape and +matter are inseparable in fact, they are opposite principles, and are +separable in thought. Geometry is quite right to treat shapes as if +they existed by themselves, but it is nevertheless dealing with mere +abstractions. Just in the same way, matter and form are never apart, +and to think of form by itself or matter by itself is a mere +abstraction. No such thing exists. In fact, to imagine that forms can +exist by themselves was just the mistake of which, as we have seen, +Aristotle accuses Plato. For the form is the Idea, and Plato imagined +that Ideas exist in a world of their own. + +From this, too, we can see that the form is the universal, the matter +the particular. For the form is the Idea, and the Idea is the +universal. To say that form and {276} matter cannot exist apart is +thus the same as saying that the universal only exists in the +particular, which, as we have seen, is the fundamental note of +Aristotle's philosophy. But if we thus identify matter with the +particular element in things, we must be careful that we do not +confuse the particular with the individual. We often use these two +words as practically synonymous, and there is no harm in this, but +here we must be careful to separate them. For every individual is, +according to Aristotle, a compound of matter and form, of the +particular and the universal. And when we say that matter is the +particular, we mean, not that it is such a compound, but that it is +the absolutely particular which has no universal in it. But the +absolutely particular and isolated does not exist. A piece of gold, +for instance, only exists by virtue of its properties, yellowness, +heaviness, etc., and these qualities are just what it has in common +with other things. So that the particular, as such, has no existence, +but this is only the same as saying, what we have already said, that +matter has no existence apart from form. + +A very natural mistake would be to suppose that by matter Aristotle +meant the same as we do, namely, physical substance, such as wood or +iron, and that by form he meant simply shape. Now although there is a +kinship in the ideas, these two pairs of ideas are far from identical. +Let us begin with matter. Our ordinary idea of matter as physical +substance is an absolute conception. That is to say, a thing which we +call material is absolutely, once and for all, matter. It is not +material from one point of view, and immaterial from another. In every +possible relation it is, and {277} remains, matter. Nor does it in +process of time cease to be matter. Brass never becomes anything but +matter. No doubt there are in nature changes of one sort of matter +into another, for example, radium into helium. And for all we know, +brass may become lead. But even so, it does not cease to be matter. +But Aristotle's conception of matter is a relative conception. Matter +and form are fluid. They flow into one another. The same thing, from +one point of view, is matter, from another, form. In all change, +matter is that which becomes, that upon which the change is wrought. +That is form towards which the change operates. What becomes is +matter. What it becomes is form. Thus wood is matter if considered in +relation to the bed. For it is what becomes the bed. But wood is form +if considered in relation to the growing plant. For it is what the +plant becomes. The oak is the form of the acorn, but it is the matter +of the oak furniture. + +That matter and form are relative terms shows, too, that the form +cannot be merely the shape. For what is form in one aspect is matter +in another. But shape is never anything but shape. No doubt the shape +is part of the form, for the form in fact includes all the qualities +of the thing. But the shape is quite an unimportant part of the form. +For form includes organization, the relation of part to part, and the +subordination of all parts to the whole. The form is the sum of the +internal and external relations, the ideal framework, so to speak, +into which the thing is moulded. Form also includes function. For it +includes the final cause. Now the function of a thing is just what the +thing is for. And what it is for is the same as its end, or final +cause. {278} Therefore function is included in form. For example, the +function of a hand, its power of gripping, is part of its form. And +therefore, if it loses its function by being cut off from the arm, it +likewise loses its form. Even the dead hand, of course, has some form, +for every individual object is a compound of matter and form. But it +has lost the highest part of its form, and relatively to the living +hand it is mere matter, although, relatively to the flesh and bones of +which it is composed, it is still form. Clearly, then, form is not +merely shape. For the hand cut off does not lose its shape. + +The form includes all the qualities of the thing. The matter is what +has the qualities. For the qualities are all universals. A piece of +gold is yellow, and this means simply that it has this in common with +other pieces of gold, and other yellow objects. To say that anything +has a quality is immediately to place it in a class. And what the +class has in common is a universal. A thing without qualities cannot +exist, nor qualities without a thing. And this is the same as saying +that form and matter cannot exist separately. + +The matter, then, is the absolutely formless. It is the substratum +which underlies everything. It has, in itself, no character. It is +absolutely featureless, indefinite, without any quality. Whatever +gives a thing definiteness, character, quality, whatever makes it a +this or that, is its form. Consequently, there are no differences +within matter. One thing can only differ from another by having +different qualities. And as matter has no qualities, it has no +difference. And this in itself shows that the Aristotelian notion of +matter is not the same as our notion of physical substance. For, +according {279} to our modern usage, one kind of matter differs from +another, as brass from iron. But this is a difference of quality, and +for Aristotle all quality is part of the form. So in his view the +difference of brass from iron is not a difference of matter, but a +difference of form. Consequently, matter may become anything, +according to the form impressed upon it. It is thus the possibility of +everything, though it is actually nothing. It only becomes something +by the acquisition of form. And this leads directly to a most +important Aristotelian antithesis, that between potentiality and +actuality. Potentiality is the same as matter, actuality as form. For +matter is potentially everything. It may become everything. It is not +actually anything. It is a mere potentiality, or capacity of becoming +something. But whatever gives it definiteness as a this or that, +whatever makes it an actual thing, is its form. Thus the actuality of +a thing is simply its form. + +Aristotle claims, by means of the antithesis of potentiality and +actuality, to have solved the ancient problem of becoming, a riddle, +propounded by the Eleatics, which had never ceased to trouble Greek +thinkers. How is becoming possible? For being to pass into being is +not becoming, for it involves no change, and for not-being to pass +into being is impossible, since something cannot come out of nothing. +For Aristotle, the sharp line drawn between not-being and being does +not exist. For these absolute terms he substitutes the relative terms +potentiality and actuality, which shade off into each other. +Potentiality in his philosophy takes the place of not-being in +previous systems. It solves the riddle because it is not an absolute +not-being. It is {280} not-being inasmuch as it is actually nothing, +but it is being because it is potential being. Becoming, therefore, +does not involve the impossible leap from nothing to something. It +involves the transition from potential to actual being. All change, +all motion, is thus the passage of potentiality into actuality, of +matter into form. + +Since matter is in itself nothing, a bare unrealised capacity, while +form is actuality, the completed and perfected being, it follows that +form is something higher than matter. But matter is what becomes form. +In order of time, therefore, matter is earlier, form later. But in +order of thought, and in reality, it is otherwise. For when we say +that matter is the potentiality of what it is to become, this implies +that what it is to become is already present in it ideally and +potentially, though not actually. The end, therefore, is already +present in the beginning. The oak is in the acorn, ideally, otherwise +the oak could never come out of it. And since all becoming is towards +the end, and would not take place but for the end, the end is the +operative principle and true cause of becoming. Motion is produced not +by a mechanical propulsive force, pushing from behind, so to speak, +but by an ideal attractive force, drawing the thing towards its end, +as a piece of iron is drawn to the magnet. It is the end itself which +exerts this force. And, therefore, the end must be present at the +beginning, for if it were not present it could exert no force. Nay, +more. It is not only present in the beginning, it is anterior to it. +For the end is the cause of the motion, and the cause is logically +prior to its consequence. The end, or the principle of form, is thus +the absolute first in thought and reality, though it may be the last +in time. If, then, {281} we ask what, for Aristotle, is that ultimate +reality, that first principle, from which the entire universe flows, +the answer is, the end, the principle of form. And as form is the +universal, the Idea, we see that his fundamental thesis is the same as +Plato's. It is the one thesis of all idealism, namely, that thought, +the universal, reason, is the absolute being, the foundation of the +world. Where he differs from Plato is in denying that form has any +existence apart from the matter in which it exhibits itself. + +Now all this may strike the unsophisticated as very strange. That the +absolute being whence the universe flows should be described as that +which lies at the end of the development of the universe, and that +philosophy should proceed to justify this by asserting that the end is +really prior to the beginning, this is so far removed from the common +man's mode of thought, that it may appear mere paradox. It is, +however, neither strange nor paradoxical. It is essentially sound and +true, and it seems strange to the ordinary man only because it +penetrates so much deeper into things than he can. This thought is, in +fact, essential to a developed idealism, and till it is grasped no +advance can be made in philosophy. Whether it is understood is, +indeed, a good test of whether a man has any talent for philosophy or +not. The fact is that all philosophies of this sort regard time as +unreal, as an appearance. This being so, the relation of the absolute +being, or God, to the world cannot be a relation of time at all. The +common man's idea is that, if there is a first principle or God at +all, He must have existed before the world began, and then, somehow, +perhaps billions of years ago, something happened as a {282} result of +which the world came into being. The Absolute is thus conceived as the +cause, the world as the effect, and the cause always precedes its +effect in time. Or if, on the other hand, we think that the world +never had a beginning, the ordinary man's thought would lead him to +believe that, in that case, it is no longer necessary to assume a +first principle at all. But if time is a mere appearance, this whole +way of looking at things must be wrong. God is not related to the +world as cause to effect. It is not a relation of time at all. It is a +_logical_ relation. God is rather the logical premise, of which the +world is the conclusion, so that, God granted, the world follows +necessarily, just as, the premises granted, the conclusion follows. +This is the reason why, in discussing Plato, we said that it must be +possible to _deduce_ the world from his first principle. If the +Absolute were merely the cause of the world in time, it would not +explain the world, for, as I have so often pointed out, causes explain +nothing. But if the world be deducible from the Absolute, the world is +explained, a reason, not a cause, is given for it, just as the +premises constitute the reason for the conclusion. Now the conclusion +of a syllogism follows from the premises, that is, the premises come +first, the conclusion second. But the premise only comes first in +thought, not in time. It is a logical succession, not a +time-succession. Just in the same way, the Absolute, or in Aristotle's +language, the form, is logically first, but is not first in order of +time. And though it is the end, it is in thought the absolute +beginning, and is thus the foundation of the world, the first +principle from which the world flows. The objection may be, taken that +if the relation of the {283} Absolute to the world is not a +time-relation, then it can no more be the end than the beginning. This +objection is, as we shall see, a misunderstanding of Aristotle's +philosophy. Although things in time strive towards the end, yet the +absolute end is not in time at all, or, in other words, the end is +never reached. Its relation to the world as end is just as much a +logical, and not a time-relation, as its relation to the world as +beginning or absolute prius. As far as time is concerned, the universe +is without beginning or end. + +As the world-process is a continual elevation of matter into higher +and higher forms, there results the conception that the universe +exhibits a continuous scale of being. That is higher in the scale in +which form predominates, that lower in which matter outweighs form. At +the bottom of the scale will be absolutely formless matter, at the +top, absolutely matterless form. Both these extremes, however, are +abstractions. Neither of them exists, because matter and form cannot +be separated. Whatever exists comes somewhere between the two, and the +universe thus exhibits a process of continuous gradations. Motion and +change are produced by the effort to pass from the lower to the higher +under the attractive force of the end. + +That which comes at the top of the scale, absolute form, is called by +Aristotle, God. And the definitions of God's character follow from +this as a matter of course. First, since form is actuality, God alone +is absolutely actual. He alone is real. All existent things are more +or less unreal. The higher in the scale are the more real, as +possessing more form. The scale of being is thus also a scale of +reality, shading off through infinite gradations {284} from the +absolutely real, God, to the absolutely unreal, formless matter. +Secondly, since the principle of form contains the formal, the final, +and the efficient causes, God is all these. As formal cause, He is the +Idea. He is essentially thought, reason. As final cause, He is the +absolute end. He is that to which all beings strive. Each being has no +doubt its own end in itself. But as absolute end, God includes all +lower ends. And as the end of each thing is the completed perfection +of the thing, so, as absolute end, God is absolute perfection. Lastly, +as efficient cause, God is the ultimate cause of all motion and +becoming. He is the first mover. As such, He is Himself unmoved. That +the first mover should be itself unmoved is a necessary consequence of +Aristotle's conception of it as end and form. For motion is the +transition of a thing towards its end. The absolute end can have no +end beyond it, and therefore cannot be moved. Likewise motion is the +passage of matter into form. Absolute form cannot pass into any higher +form, and is therefore unmoved. But the argument which Aristotle +himself more frequently uses to establish the immovability of the +first mover is that, unless we so conceive it, no cause of motion +appears. The moving object is moved perhaps by another moving object. +The motion of the latter demands a further cause. If this further +cause is itself moving, we must again ask for the cause of its motion. +If this process goes on for ever, then motion is unexplained, and no +real cause of it has been shown. The real and ultimate cause must +therefore be unmoved. + +This last argument sounds as if Aristotle is now thinking in terms of +mechanism. It sounds as if he meant that {285} the first mover is +something at the beginning of time, which, so to speak, gave things a +push to start them off. This is not what Aristotle means. For the true +efficient cause is the final cause. And God is the first mover only in +His character as absolute end. As far as time is concerned, neither +the universe, nor the motion in it, ever had any beginning. Every +mechanical cause has its cause in turn, and so _ad infinitum_. God is +not a first cause, in our sense, that is, a first mechanical cause +which existed before the world, and created it. He is a teleological +cause working from the end. But as such, He is logically prior to all +beginning, and so is the first mover. And just as the universe has no +beginning in time, so it has no end in time. It will go on for ever. +Its end is absolute form, but this can never be reached, because if it +were, this would mean that absolute form would exist, whereas we have +seen that form cannot exist apart from matter. + +God is thought. But the thought of what? As absolute form, he is not +the form of matter, but the form of form. His matter, so to speak, is +form. Form, as the universal, is thought. And this gives us +Aristotle's famous definition of God as "the thought of thought." He +thinks only his own self. He is at once the subject and the object of +his thought. As mortal men think material things, as I now think the +paper on which I write, so God thinks thought. In more modern terms, +he is self-consciousness, the absolute subject-object. That God should +think anything other than thought is inconceivable, because the end of +all other thought is outside the thought itself. If I think this +paper, the end of my thought, the paper, is outside me. But the +thought of {286} God, as the absolute end, cannot have any end outside +itself. Were God to think anything else than thought, he would be +determined by that which is not himself. By way of further expression +of the same idea, Aristotle passes into figurative language. God, he +says, lives in eternal blessedness, and his blessedness consists in +the everlasting contemplation of his own perfection. + +A modern will naturally ask whether Aristotle's God is personal. It +does not do to be very dogmatic upon the point. Aristotle, like Plato, +never discusses the question. No Greek ever did. It is a modern +question. What we have to do, then, is to take the evidence on both +sides. The case for personality is that the language Aristotle uses +implies it. The very word God, used instead of the Absolute, or form, +conveys the idea of personality. And when he goes on to speak of God +living in eternal blessedness, these words, if taken literally, can +mean nothing except that God is a conscious person. If we say that +this language is merely figurative, it may be replied that Aristotle +on principle objects to figurative language, that he frequently +censures Plato for using it, that what he demands and sets out to +supply is exact, literal, scientific terminology, and that he is not +likely to have broken his own canons of philosophic expression by +using merely poetical phrases. + +To see the other side of the case, we must first ask what personality +means. Now without entering into an intricate discussion of this most +elusive idea, we may answer that personality at any rate implies an +_individual_ and _existent_ consciousness. But, in the first place, God is +absolute form, and form is the universal. What is universal, with no +particular in it, cannot be an individual. {287} God, therefore, +cannot be individual. Secondly, form without matter cannot exist. And +as God is form without matter, he cannot be called existent, though he +is absolutely real. God, therefore, is neither existent nor +individual. And this means that he is not a person. To degrade the +real to the level of the existent, to convert the universal into the +individual, is exactly the fault for which Aristotle blames Plato. It +is exactly the fault which it was the whole object of his philosophy +to remedy. If he thought that God is a person, he committed the same +fault himself in an aggravated form. + +We have, then, two hypotheses, both of which involve that Aristotle +was guilty of some inconsistency. If God is not a person, then +Aristotle's language is figurative, and his use of such language is +inconsistent with his rooted objection to its use. This, however, is, +after all, merely an inconsistency of language, and not of thought. It +does not mean that Aristotle really contradicted himself. It merely +means that, though he set himself to express his philosophy in +technical scientific terms, and to exclude figurative language, yet he +found himself compelled in a few passages to make use of it. There are +some metaphysical ideas so abstract, so abstruse, that it is almost +impossible to express them at all without the use of figures of +speech. Language was made by common men for common purposes, and this +fact often forces the philosopher to use terms which he knows only +figure forth his meaning without accurately expressing it. Perhaps +every philosophy in the world finds itself sometimes under this +necessity, and, if Aristotle did so, and was thereby technically +inconsistent with himself, it is no wonder, and involves no serious +blame upon him. + +{288} + +But the other hypothesis, that God is a person, means that Aristotle +committed a contradiction, not merely in words, but in thought, and +not merely as regards some unimportant detail, but as regards the +central thesis of his system. It means that he stultified himself by +making his conception of God absolutely contradict the essentials of +his system. For what is the whole of Aristotle's philosophy, put in a +nutshell? It is that the Absolute is the universal, but that the +universal does not exist apart from the particular. Plato supplied the +thought of the first clause of the sentence. Aristotle added the last +clause, and it is the essential of his philosophy. To assert that God, +the absolute form, exists as an individual, is flatly to contradict +this. It is not likely that Aristotle should have contradicted himself +in so vital a matter, and in a manner which simply means that his +system falls to the ground like a house of cards. + +My conclusion, then, is that it was not Aristotle's intention that +what he calls God should be regarded as a person. God is thought, but +not subjective thought. He is not thought existent in a mind, but +objective thought, real on its own account, apart from any mind which +thinks it, like Plato's Ideas. But Plato's mistake was to suppose that +because thought is real and objective, it must exist. Aristotle avoids +this error. The absolute thought is the absolutely real. But it does +not exist. With the concept of God the metaphysics of Aristotle +closes. + + + +4. Physics, or the Philosophy of Nature. + +The existent universe is a scale of being lying between the two +extremes of formless matter and matterless form. But this must not be +merely asserted, as a general {289} principle. It must be carried out +in detail. The passage of matter into form must be shown in its +various stages in the world of nature. To do this is the object of +Aristotle's Physics, or philosophy of nature. + +If nature is to be understood, we must keep in mind certain general +points of view. In the first place, since form includes end, the +entire world-process, as passage of matter into form, is essentially +movement towards ends. Everything in nature has its end and function. +Nothing is purposeless. Nature seeks everywhere to attain the best +possible. Everywhere we find evidences of design and of rational plan. +Aristotle's philosophy of nature is essentially teleological. This +does not, however, exclude the principle of mechanism, and to +investigate mechanical causes is part of the duty of science. But +mechanical causes turn out in the end to be teleological, because the +true efficient cause is the final cause. + +But if nothing in nature is aimless or useless, this is not to be +interpreted in a narrow anthropocentric spirit. It does not mean that +everything exists for the use of man, that the sun was created to give +him light by day, the moon by night, and that plants and animals exist +only for his food. It is true that, in a certain sense, everything +else sublunary is _for_ man. For man is the highest in the scale of +beings in this terrestrial sphere, and therefore as the higher end, he +includes all lower ends. But this does not exclude the fact that lower +beings have each its own end. They exist for themselves and not for +us. + +Another mistake which we must avoid is to suppose that the design in +nature means that nature is conscious of her designs, or, on the other +hand, that there is any {290} existent consciousness outside the world +which governs and controls it. The latter supposition is excluded by +the fact that God is not an existent conscious person, the former by +its own inherent absurdity. The only being upon this earth who is +conscious of his ends is man. Such animals as bees and ants appear to +work rationally, and their activities are clearly governed by design. +But it is not to be supposed that they are reasoning beings. They +attain their ends instinctively. And when we come to inorganic matter, +we find that even here its movements are purposive, but no one could +suppose them deliberate and conscious. These manifold activities of +lower nature are indeed the work of reason, but not of an existent or +self-conscious reason. And this means that instinct, and even +mechanical forces such as gravitation are, in their essence, reason. +It is not that they are created by reason, but that they are reason, +exhibiting itself in lower forms. In commenting upon Plato's dualism +of sense and reason, I remarked that any true philosophy, though +recognizing the distinction between sense and reason, must yet find +room for their identity, and must show that sense is but a lower form +of reason. This idea Aristotle thoroughly understood, and sought to +show, not merely that sense is reason, but even that the activities of +inorganic matter, such as gravitation, are so. In the result, nature, +though working through reason, is not conscious of the fact, does so +blindly and instinctively, and is compared to a creative artist, who +forms beautiful objects by instinct, or, as we should say, by +inspiration, without setting before his mind the end to be attained or +the rules to be observed in order to attain it. + +{291} + +In the process of nature, it is always form which impels, matter which +retards and obstructs. The entire world-movement is the effort of form +to mould matter, but, just because matter has in itself a power of +resistance, this effort does not always succeed. This is the reason +why form cannot exist without matter, because it can never wholly +overcome the clogging activity of matter, and therefore matter can +never be wholly moulded into form. And this explains, too, the +occasional occurrence in nature of freaks, monstrosities, abortions, +and unnatural births. In these the form has failed to mould the +matter. Nature has failed to attain her ends. Science, therefore, +should study the normal and natural rather than the abnormal and +monstrous. For it is in the normal that the ends of nature are to be +seen, and through them alone nature can be understood. Aristotle is +fond of using the words "natural" and "unnatural," but he uses them +always with this special meaning. That is natural which attains its +end, that in which the form successfully masters the matter. + +No doctrine of physics can ignore the fundamental notions of motion, +space, and time. Aristotle, therefore, finds it necessary to consider +these. Motion is the passage of matter into form, and it is of four +kinds. The first is motion which affects the substance of a thing, +origination and decease. Secondly, change of quality. Thirdly, change +of quantity, increase and decrease. Fourthly, locomotion, change of +place. Of these, the last is the most fundamental and important. + +Aristotle rejects the definition of space as the void. Empty space is +an impossibility. Hence, too, he disagrees with the view of Plato and +the Pythagoreans that {292} the elements are composed of geometrical +figures. And connected with this is his repudiation of the mechanical +hypothesis that all quality is founded upon quantity, or upon +composition and decomposition. Quality has a real existence of its +own. He rejects, also, the view that space is a physical thing. If +this were true, there would be two bodies occupying the same place at +the same time, namely the object and the space it fills. Hence there +is nothing for it but to conceive space as limit. Space is, therefore, +defined as the limit of the surrounding body towards what is +surrounded. As we shall see later, in another connexion, Aristotle did +not regard space as infinite. + +Time is defined as the measure of motion in regard to what is earlier +and later. It thus depends for its existence upon motion. If there +were no change in the universe, there would be no time. And since it +is the measuring or counting of motion, it also depends for its +existence upon a counting mind. If there were no mind to count, there +could be no time. This presents difficulties to us, if we conceive +that there was a time when conscious beings did not exist. But this +difficulty is non-existent for Aristotle, who believed that men and +animals have existed from all eternity. The essentials of time, +therefore, are two: change and consciousness. Time is the succession +of thoughts. If we object that the definition is bad because +succession already involves time, there is doubtless no answer +possible. + +As to the infinite divisibility of space and time, and the riddles +proposed thereupon by Zeno, Aristotle is of opinion that space and +time are potentially divisible {293} _ad infinitum_, but are not +actually so divided. There is nothing to prevent us from going on for +ever with the process of division, but space and time are not given in +experience as infinitely divided. + +After these preliminaries, we can pass on to consider the main subject +of physics, the scale of being. We should notice, in the first place, +that it is also a scale of values. What is higher in the scale of +being is of more worth, because the principle of form is more advanced +in it. It constitutes also a theory of development, a philosophy of +evolution. The lower develops into the higher. It does not, however, +so develop in time. That the lower form passes in due time into a +higher form is a discovery of modern times. Such a conception was +impossible for Aristotle. For him, genus and species are eternal. They +have neither beginning nor end. Individual men are born and die, but +the species man never dies, and has always existed upon the earth. The +same is true of plants and animals. And since man has always existed, +he cannot have evolved in time from a lower being. There is no room +here for Darwinism. In what sense, then, is this a theory of +development or evolution? The process involved is not a time-process, +it is a logical process, and the development is a logical development. +The lower always contains the higher potentially. The man is in the +ape ideally. The higher, again, contains the lower actually. The man +is all that the ape is, and more also. What is merely implicit in the +lower form is explicit in the higher. The form which is dimly seen +struggling to light in the lower, has realized itself in the higher. +The higher is the same thing as the lower, but it is the same thing in +a more {294} evolved state. The higher presupposes the lower and rests +upon it as foundation. The higher is the form of which the lower is +the matter. It actually is what the lower is struggling to become. +Hence the entire universe is one continuous chain. It is a process; +not a time-process, but an eternal process. The one ultimate reality, +God, reason, absolute form, eternally exhibits itself in every stage +of its development. All the stages, therefore, must exist for ever +side by side. + +Now the form of a thing is its organization. Hence to be higher in the +scale means to be more organized. The first distinction, therefore, +with which nature presents us is between the organic and the +inorganic. Aristotle was the discoverer of the idea of organism, as he +was also the inventor of the word. At the bottom of the scale of +being, therefore, is inorganic matter. Inorganic matter is the nearest +existent thing to absolutely formless matter, which, of course, does +not exist. In the inorganic world matter preponderates to such an +extent as almost to overwhelm form, and we can only expect to see the +universal exhibiting itself in it in a vague and dim way. What, then, +is its form? And this is the same as asking what its function, end, or +essential activity is. The end of inorganic matter is merely external +to it. Form has not truly entered into it at all, and remains outside +it. Hence the activity of inorganic matter can only be to move in +space towards its external end. This is the explanation of what we, in +modern times, call gravitation. But, according to Aristotle, every +element has its peculiar and natural motion; its end is conceived +merely spatially, and its activity is to move towards its "proper +place," and, having thus reached its end, it rests. The natural {295} +movement of fire is up. We may call this a principle of levitation, as +opposed to gravitation. Aristotle has been the subject of cheap +criticism on account of his frequent use of the words "natural" and +"unnatural." [Footnote 15] It is said that he was satisfied to explain +the operations of nature by simply labelling them "natural." If you +ask a quite uneducated person why heavy bodies fall, he may quite +possibly reply, "Oh! _naturally_ they fall." This simply means that +the man has never thought about the matter at all, and thinks whatever +is absolutely familiar to him is "natural" and needs no explanation. +It is like the feminine argument that a thing is so, "because it is." +It is assumed that Aristotle was guilty of a like futility. This is +not the case. His use of the word "natural" does not indicate lack of +thought. There is a thought, an idea, here. No doubt he was quite +wrong in many of his facts. Thus there is no such principle as +levitation in the universe. But there is a principle of gravitation, +and when he explains this by saying it is "natural" for earth to move +downwards, he means, not that the fact is familiar, but that the +principle of form, or the world-reason, can only exhibit itself here +so dimly as to give rise to a comparatively aimless and purposeless +movement in a straight line. Not absolutely purposeless, however, +because nothing in the world is such, and the purpose here is simply +the movement of matter towards its end. This may or may not be a true +explanation of gravity. But has anybody since ever explained it +better? + +[Footnote 15: See, _e.g._ Sir Alexander Grant's _Aristotle_ in the +Ancient Classics for English Readers Series (Blackwood), pages +119-121.] + +This gives us, too, the clue to the distinction between {296} the +inorganic and the organic. If inorganic matter is what has its end +outside itself, organic matter will be what has its end within itself. +This is the essential character of an organism, that its end is +internal to it. It is an inward self-developing principle. Its +function, therefore, can only be the actualisation, the +self-realization of this inward end. Whereas, therefore, inorganic +matter has no activity except spatial movement, organic matter has for +its activity growth, and this growth is not the mere mechanical +addition of extraneous matter, as we add a pound of tea to a pound of +tea. It is true growth from within. It is the making outward of what +is inward. It is the making explicit of what is implicit. It is the +making actual of what is potential in the embryo organism. + +The lowest in the scale of being is thus inorganic matter, and above +it comes organic matter, in which the principle of form becomes real +and definite as the inward organization of the thing. This inward +organization is the life, or what we call the soul, of the organism. +Even the human soul is nothing but the organization of the body. It +stands to the body in the relation of form to matter. With organism, +then, we reach the idea of living soul. But this living soul will +itself have lower and higher grades of being, the higher being a +higher realization of the principle of form. As the essential of +organism is self-realization, this will express itself first as +self-preservation. Self-preservation means first the preservation of +the individual, and this gives the function of nutrition. Secondly, it +means preservation of the species, and this gives the function of +propagation. The lowest grade in the organic kingdom will, therefore, +be {297} those organisms whose sole functions are to nourish +themselves, grow, and propagate their kind. These are plants. And we +may sum up this by saying that plants possess the nutritive soul. +Aristotle intended to write a treatise upon plants, which intention, +however, he never carried out. All that we have from him on plants is +scattered references in his other books. Had the promised treatise +been forthcoming, we cannot doubt what its plan would have been. +Aristotle would have shown, as he did in the case of animals, that +there are higher and lower grades of organism within the plant +kingdom, and he would have attempted to trace the development in +detail through all the then known species of plants. + +Next above plants in the scale of being come animals. Since the higher +always contains the lower, but exhibits a further realization of form +peculiar to itself, animals share with plants the functions of +nutrition and propagation. What is peculiar to them, the point in +which they rise above plants, is the possession of sensation. +Sense-perception is therefore the special function of animals, and +they possess, therefore, the nutritive and the sensitive souls. With +sensation come pleasure and pain, for pleasure is a pleasant +sensation, and pain the opposite. Hence arises the impulse to seek the +pleasant and avoid the painful. This can only be achieved by the power +of movement. Most animals, accordingly, have the power of locomotion, +which is not possessed by plants, because they do not require it, +since they are not sensitive to pleasure and pain. In his books upon +animals Aristotle attempts to carry out the principle of development +in detail, showing what are the higher, and what the lower, animal +organisms. This he connects with the {298} methods of propagation +employed by different animals. Sex-generation is the mark of a higher +organism than parthenogenesis. + +The scale of being proceeds from animals to man. The human organism, +of course, contains the principles of all lower organisms. Man +nourishes himself, grows, propagates his kind, moves about, and is +endowed with sense-perception. But he must have in addition his own +special function, which constitutes his advance beyond the animals. +This is reason. Reason is the essential, the proper end and activity +of man. His soul is nutritive, sensitive, and rational. In man, +therefore, the world-reason which could only appear in inorganic +matter as gravitation and levitation, in plants as nutrition, in +animals as sensation, appears at last in its own proper form, as what +it essentially is, reason. The world-reason, so long struggling +towards the light, has reached it, has become actual, has become +existent, in man. The world-process has attained its proximate end. + +Within human consciousness there are lower and higher grades, and +Aristotle has taken great pains to trace these from the bottom to the +top. These stages of consciousness are what are ordinarily called +"faculties." But Aristotle notes that it is nonsense to talk, as Plato +did, of the "parts" of the soul. The soul, being a single indivisible +being, has no parts. They are different aspects of the activity of one +and the same being; different stages of its development. They can no +more be separated than the convex and concave aspects of a curve. The +lowest faculty, if we must use that word, is sense-perception. Now +what we perceive in a thing is its qualities. Perception tells us that +a piece of gold is {299} heavy, yellow, etc. The underlying substratum +which supports the qualities cannot be perceived. This means that the +matter is unknowable, the form knowable, for the qualities are part of +the form. Sense-perception, therefore, takes place when the object +stamps its form upon the soul. This is important for what it implies +rather than what it states. It shows the thoroughly idealistic trend +of Aristotle's thought. For if the form is what is knowable in a +thing, the more form there is, the more knowable it will be. Absolute +form, God, will be the absolutely knowable. That the Absolute is what +alone is completely knowable, intelligible, and comprehensible, and +the finite and material comparatively unknowable, is a point of view +essential to idealism, and stands in marked contrast to the popular +idea of rationalism that the Absolute is unknowable, and matter +knowable. For idealism, the Absolute is reason, thought. What can be +more thoroughly intelligible than reason? What can thought +understand, if not thought? This, of course, is not stated by +Aristotle. But it is implied in his theory of sense-perception. + +Next in the scale above the senses comes the common sense. This has +nothing to do with what we understand by that phrase in every-day +language. It means the central sensation-ganglion in which isolated +sensations meet, are combined, and form a unity of experience. We saw, +in considering Plato, that the simplest kind of knowledge, such as, +"this paper is white," involves, not only isolated sensations, but +their comparison and contrast. Bare sensations would not even make +objects. For every object is a combined bundle of sensations. What +thus combines the various sensations, and in {300} particular those +received from different sense-organs, what compares and contrasts +them, and turns them from a blind medley of phantasms into a definite +experience, a single cosmos, is the common sense. Its organ is the +heart. + +Above the common sense is the faculty of imagination. By this +Aristotle means, not the creative imagination of the artist, but the +power, which everyone possesses, of forming mental images and +pictures. This is due to the excitation in the sense-organ continuing +after the object has ceased to affect it. + +The next faculty is memory. This is the same as imagination, except +that there is combined with the image a recognition of it as a copy of +a past sense-impression. + +Recollection, again, is higher than memory. Memory images drift +purposelessly through the mind. Recollection is the deliberate evoking +of memory-images. + +From recollection we pass to the specifically human faculty of reason. +But reason itself has two grades. The lower is called passive reason, +the higher active reason. The mind has the power of thought before it +actually thinks. This latent capacity is passive reason. The mind is +here like a smooth piece of wax which has the power to receive +writing, but has not received it. The positive activity of thought +itself is active reason. The comparison with wax must not mislead us +into supposing that the soul only receives its impressions from +sensation. It is pure thought which writes upon the wax. + +Now the sum of the faculties in general we call the soul. And the +soul, we saw, is simply the organization {301} or form, of the body. +As form is inseparable from matter, the soul cannot exist without the +body. It is the function of the body. It is to the body what sight is +to the eye. And in the same sense Aristotle denies the doctrine of +Pythagoras and Plato that the soul reincarnates itself in new bodies, +particularly in the bodies of animals. What is the function of one +thing cannot become the function of another. Exactly what the soul is +to the body the music of the flute is to the flute itself. It is the +form of which the flute is the matter. It is, to speak metaphorically, +the soul of the flute. And you might as well talk, says Aristotle, of +the art of flute-playing becoming reincarnate in the blacksmith's +anvil, as of the soul passing into another body. This would seem also +to preclude any doctrine of immortality. For the function perishes +with the thing. We shall return to that point in a moment. But we may +note, meanwhile, that Aristotle's theory of the soul is not only a +great advance upon Plato's, but is a great advance upon popular +thinking of the present day. The ordinary view of the soul, which was +Plato's view, is that the soul is a sort of thing. No doubt it is +non-material and supersensuous. But still it is a thing; it can be put +into a body and taken out of it, as wine can be put into or taken out +of a bottle. The connection between body and soul is thus purely +mechanical. They are attached to each other by no necessary bond, but +rather by force. They have, in their own natures, no connexion with +each other, and it is difficult to see why the soul ever entered a +body, if it is in its nature something quite separate. But Aristotle's +view is that the soul, as form of the body, is not separable from it. +You cannot have {302} a soul without a body. The connection between +them is not mechanical, but organic. The soul is not a thing which +comes into the body and goes out of it. It is not a thing at all. It +is a function. + +But to this doctrine Aristotle makes an exception in favour of the +active reason. All the lower faculties perish with the body, including +the passive reason. Active reason is imperishable and eternal. It has +neither beginning nor end. It comes into the body from without, and +departs from it at death. God being absolute reason, man's reason +comes from God, and returns to him, after the body ceases to function. +But before we hail this as a doctrine of personal immortality, we had +best reflect. All the lower faculties perish at death, and this +includes memory. Now memory is an essential of personality. Without +memory our experiences would be a succession of isolated sensations, +with no connecting link. What connects my last with my present +experience is that my last experience was "mine." To be mine it must +be remembered. Memory is the string upon which isolated experiences +are strung together, and which makes them into that unity I call +myself, my personality. If memory perishes, there can be no personal +life. And it must be remembered that Aristotle does not mean merely +that, in that future life--if we persist in calling it such--the +memory of this life is obliterated. He means that in the future life +itself reason has no memory of itself from moment to moment. We cannot +be dogmatic about what Aristotle himself thought. He seems to avoid +the question. He probably shrank from disturbing popular beliefs on +the subject. We have, at any rate, no definite pronouncement from +{303} him. All we can say is that his doctrine does not provide the +material for belief in personal immortality. It expressly removes the +material in that it denies the persistence of memory. Moreover, if +Aristotle really thought that reason is a thing, which goes in and out +of the body, an exception, in the literal sense, to his general +doctrine of soul, all we can say is that he undergoes a sudden drop in +the philosophic scale. Having propounded so advanced a theory, he +sinks back to the crude view of Plato. And as this is not likely, the +most probable explanation is that he is here speaking figuratively, +perhaps with the intention of propitiating the religious and avoiding +any rude disturbance of popular belief. If so, the statements that +active reason is immortal, comes from God, and returns to God, mean +simply that the world-reason is eternal, and that man's reason is the +actualization of this eternal reason, and in that sense "comes from +God" and returns to Him. We may add, too, that since God, though real, +is not to be regarded as an existent individual, our return to Him +cannot be thought as a continuation of individual existence. Personal +immortality is inconsistent with the fundamentals of Aristotle's +system. We ought not to suppose that he contradicted himself in this +way. Yet if Aristotle used language which seems to imply personal +immortality, this is neither meaningless nor dishonest. It is as true +for him as for others that the soul is eternal. But eternal does not +mean everlasting in time. It means timeless. And reason, even our +reason, is timeless. The soul has eternity in it. It is "eternity in +an hour." And it is this which puts the difference between man and the +brutes. + +{304} + +We have traced the scale of being from inorganic matter, through +plants and animals, to man. What then? What is the next step? Or does +the scale stop there? Now there is a sort of break in Aristotle's +system at this point, which has led many to say that man is the top of +the scale. The rest of Aristotle's physics deal with what is outside +our earth, such as the stars and planets. And they deal with them +quite as if they were a different subject, having little or nothing to +do with the terrestrial scale of being which we have been considering. +But here we must not forget two facts. The first is that Aristotle's +writings have come down to us mutilated, and in many cases unfinished. +The second is that Aristotle had a curious habit of writing separate +monographs on different parts of his system, and omitting to point out +any connexion between them, although such a connexion undoubtedly +exists. + +Now although Aristotle himself does not say it, there are several good +reasons for thinking that the true interpretation of his meaning is +that the scale of being does not stop at man, that there is no gap in +the chain here, but that it proceeds from man through planets and +stars--which Aristotle, like Plato, regarded as divine beings--right +up to God himself. In the first place, this is required by the logic +of his system. The scale has formless matter at the bottom and +matterless form at the top. It should proceed direct from one to the +other. It is essential to his philosophy that the universe is a single +continuous chain. There is no place for such a hiatus between man and +the higher beings. Secondly, it is not as if terrestrial life formed a +scale, and celestial beings were all on a par, having among themselves +no {305} scale of higher and lower. This is not the case. The heavenly +bodies have grades among themselves. The higher are related to the +lower as form to matter. Thus stars are higher than planets. So that +if we suppose that evolution stops at man, what we have is a gap in +the middle, a scale below it, and a scale above it. It is like a +bridge over a sheet of water, the two ends of which are intact, but +which is broken down in the middle. The natural completion of this +scheme involves the filling up of the gap. Thirdly, we have another +very important piece of evidence. With his valuable idea of evolution +Aristotle combined another very curious, and no doubt, absurd, theory. +This was that in the scale of the universe the lowest existence is to +be found in the middle, the highest at the periphery, and that in +general the higher is always outside the lower, so that the spatial +universe is a system of concentric spheres, the outer sphere being +related to the inner sphere as higher to lower, as form to matter. At +the centre of the spherical universe is our earth. Earth, as the +lowest element, is in the middle. Then comes a layer of water, then of +air, then of fire. Among the heavenly bodies there are fifty-six +spheres. The stars are outside the planets and are therefore higher +beings. And in conformity with this scheme, the supreme being, God, is +outside the outermost sphere. Now it is obvious that, in this scheme, +the passage from the centre of the earth to the stars forms a spatial +continuity, and it is impossible to resist the conclusion that it also +forms a logical continuity, that is, that there is no break in the +chain of evolution. + +Noting that this is not what Aristotle in so many words says, but that +it is our interpretation of his {306} intention, which is almost +certainly correct, we conclude that man is not the top of the scale. +Next to him come the heavenly bodies. The planets include the sun and +the moon, which, revolve round the earth in a direction opposite to +that of the stars. Next in the scale come the stars. We need not go +into details of the fifty-six spheres. The stars and planets are +divine beings. But this is only a comparative term. Man, as the +possessor of reason, is also divine, but the heavenly bodies +infinitely more so. And this means that they are more rational than +man, and so higher in the scale. They live an absolutely blessed and +perfect life. They are immortal and eternal, because they are the +supreme self-realization of the eternal reason. It is only upon this +earth that death and corruption occur, a circumstance which has no +doubt emphasized that view of Aristotle's philosophy which holds the +gap between man and the stars to be a real one. The heavenly bodies +are not composed of the four elements, but of a fifth, a quintessence, +which is called ether. Like all elements it must have its natural +motion. And as it is the finest and most perfect, its motion must be +perfect. And it must be an eternal motion, because the stars are +eternal beings. It cannot be motion in a straight line, because that +never comes to an end, and so is never perfect. Circular motion alone +is perfect. And it is eternal because its end and its beginning are +one. Hence the natural motion of ether is circular, and the stars move +in perfect circles. + +Leaving the stars behind, we reach the summit of the long ladder from +matter to form. This is the absolute form, God. As formless matter is +not an existent thing, nor is matterless form. God, therefore, is not +in the {307} world of space and time at all. But it is one of the +curiosities of thought that Aristotle nevertheless gives him a place +outside the outermost sphere. What is outside the sphere is, +therefore, not space. All space and time are inside this globular +universe. Space is therefore finite. And God must be outside the +outermost sphere because he is the highest being, and the higher +always comes outside the lower. + +We have now described the entire scale of evolution. Looking back upon +it, we can see its inner significance. The Absolute is reason, +matterless form. Everything in the world, therefore, is, in its +essence, reason. If we wish to know the essential nature even of this +clod of earth, the answer is that it is reason, although this view is +not consistently developed by Aristotle, since he allows that matter +is a separate principle which cannot be reduced to form. The whole +universal process of things is nothing but the struggle of reason to +express itself, to actualize itself, to become existent in the world. +This it definitely does, for the first time proximately in man, and +completely in the stars. It can only express itself in lower beings as +sensation (animals), as nutrition (plants), or as gravitation and its +opposite (inorganic matter). + +The value of Aristotle's theory of evolution is immense. It is not the +details that signify. The application of the principle in the world of +matter and life could not be carried out satisfactorily in the then +state of physical science. It could not be carried out with perfection +even now. Omniscience alone could give finality to such a scheme. But +it is the principle itself which matters. And that it is one of the +most valuable conceptions in {308} philosophy will perhaps be more +evident if we compare it, firstly, with modern scientific theories of +evolution and secondly, with certain aspects of Hindu pantheism. + +What has Aristotle in common with such a writer a Herbert Spencer? +According to Spencer, evolution is a movement from the indefinite, +incoherent, and homogeneous, to the definite, coherent, and +heterogeneous. Aristotle has all this, though his words are different. +He calls it a movement from matter to form. Form he describes as +whatever gives definiteness to a thing. Matter is the indefinite +substrate, form gives it definiteness. Hence for him too the higher +being is more definite because it has more form. That matter is the +homogeneous, form the heterogeneous, follows from this. We saw that +there are in matter itself no differences, because there are no +qualities. And this is the same as saying it is homogeneous. +Heterogeneity, that is, differentiation, is introduced by form. +Coherence is the same thing as organization. Aristotle has himself +defined the form of a thing as its organization. For him, as for +Spencer, the higher being is simply that which is more organized. +Every theory of evolution depends fundamentally upon the idea of +organism. Aristotle invented the idea and the word. Spencer carried it +no further, though the more advanced physical knowledge of his day +enabled him to illustrate it more copiously. + +But of course the great difference between Aristotle and the moderns, +is that the former did not guess, what the latter have discovered, +namely that evolution is not only a logical development, but is a fact +in time. Aristotle knew what was meant by the higher and lower +organism as well as Darwin, but he did not know, that the latter {309} +actually turns into the former in the course of years. But this, +though the most obvious, is not really the most important difference +between Spencer and Aristotle. The real difference is that Aristotle +penetrated far more deeply into the philosophy of evolution than +modern science does; that, in fact, modern science has no philosophy +of evolution at all. For the fundamental problem here is, if we speak +of higher and lower beings, what rational ground have we for calling +them higher and lower? That the lower passes in time into the higher +is no doubt a very interesting fact to discover, but it dwindles into +insignificance beside the problem just indicated, because, on the +solution of that problem it depends whether the universe is to be +regarded as futile, meaningless, and irrational, or whether we are to +see in it order, plan, and purpose. Is Spencer's doctrine a theory of +development at all? Or is it not rather simply a theory of change? +Something resembling an ape becomes a man. Is there development here, +that is, is it a movement from something really lower to something +really higher? Or is it merely change from one indifferent thing to +another? Is there improvement, or only difference? In the latter case, +it makes not the slightest difference whether the ape becomes man, or +man becomes an ape. The one is as good as the other. In either case, +it is merely a change from Tweedledum to Tweedledee. The change is +meaningless, and has no significance. + +The modern doctrine of evolution can only render the world more +intelligible, can only develop into a philosophy of evolution, by +showing that there is evolution and not merely change, and this it can +only do by {310} giving a rational basis for the belief that some +forms of existence are higher than others. To put the matter bluntly, +why is a man higher than a horse, or a horse than a sponge? Answer +that, and you have a philosophy of evolution. Fail to answer it, and +you have none. Now the man in the street will say that man is higher +than the horse, because he not merely eats grass, but thinks, +deliberates, possesses art, science, religion, morality. Ask him why +these things are higher than eating grass, and he has no answer. From +him, then, we turn to Spencer, and there we find a sort of answer. Man +is higher because he is more organized. But why is it better to be +more organized? Science, as such, has no answer. If pressed in this +way, science may of course turn round and say: "there is in the +reality of things no higher and no lower; what I mean by higher and +lower is simply more and less organized; higher and lower are mere +metaphors; they are the human way of looking at things; we naturally +call higher what is nearest ourselves; but from the absolute point of +view there is no higher and lower." But this is to reduce the universe +to a madhouse. It means that there is no purpose, no reason, in +anything that happens. The universe, in this case, is irrational. No +explanation of it is possible. Philosophy is futile, and not only +philosophy, but morality and everything else. If there is really no +higher and lower, there is no better and no worse. It is just as good +to be a murderer as to be a saint. Evil is the same as good. Instead +of striving to be saints, statesmen, philosophers, we may as well go +and play marbles, because all these values of higher and lower are +mere delusions, "the human way of looking at things." + +{311} + +Spencer then has no answer to the question why it is better to be more +organized. So we turn at last to Aristotle. He has an answer. He sees +that it is meaningless to talk of development, advance, higher and +lower, except in relation to an end. There is no such thing as advance +unless it is an advance towards something. A body moving purposelessly +in a straight line through infinite space does not advance. It might +as well be here as a mile hence. In either case it is no nearer to +anything. But if it is moving towards a definite point, we can call +this advance. Every mile it moves it gets nearer to its end. So, if we +are to have a philosophy of evolution, it must be teleological. If +nature is not advancing towards an end, there is no nearer and +further, no higher and lower, no development. What then is the end? It +is the actualization of reason, says Aristotle. The primal being is +eternal reason, but this is not existent. It must come to exist. It +first enunciates itself vaguely as gravitation. But this is far off +from its end, which is the existence of reason, as such, in the world. +It comes nearer in plants and animals. It is proximately reached in +man, for man is the existent reason. But there is no question of the +universe coming to a stop, when it reaches its end--(the usual +objection to teleology). For the absolute end, absolute form, can +never be reached. The higher is thus the more rational, the lower the +less rational. Now if we try to go on asking, "why is it better to be +more rational?" we find we cannot ask such a question. The word "why" +means that we want a reason. And our question is absurd because we are +asking a reason for reason. Why is it better to be rational means +simply, "how is reason rational." To {312} doubt it is a +self-contradiction. Or, to put the same thing in another way, reason +is the Absolute. And to ask why it is better to be rational is to +demand that the ultimate should be expressed in terms of something +beyond it. Hence modern science has no philosophy of evolution, +whereas Aristotle has. [Footnote 16] + +[Footnote 16: See H. S. Macran's _Hegel's Doctrine of Formal Logic_ +(Clarendon Press), Introduction, section on the Conception of +Evolution, to which I am much indebted in the above paragraphs.] + +The main idea of pantheism is that everything is God. The clod of +earth is divine because it is a manifestation of Deity. Now this idea +is all very well, and is in fact essential to philosophy. We find it +in Aristotle himself, since the entire world is, for him, the +actualization of reason, and reason is God. But this is also a very +dangerous idea, if not supplemented by a rationally grounded scale of +values. No doubt everything is, in a sense, God. But if we leave it at +this, it would follow that, since everything is equally divine, there +is no higher and lower. If the clod of earth, like the saintliest man, +is God, and there is no more to say of the matter, then how is the +saint higher than the clod of earth? Why should one ever struggle +towards higher things, when in reality all are equally high? Why avoid +evil, when evil is as much a manifestation of God as good? Mere +pantheism must necessarily end in this calamitous view. And these +deplorable effects explain the fact that Hinduism, with all its high +thinking, finds room for the worship of cows and snakes, and, with all +its undoubted moral elevation, yet allows into its fold the grossest +abominations. Both these features are due to the pantheistic placing +of all things on a par as equally {313} divine. Not of course that +Hinduism has not a sort of doctrine of evolution, a belief in a higher +and lower. As everyone knows, it admits the belief that in successive +incarnations the soul may mount higher and higher till it perhaps +rejoins the common source of all things. There is probably no race of +man so savage that it does not instinctively feel that there is a +higher and lower, a better and worse, in things. But the point is +that, although Hinduism has its scale of values, and its doctrine of +development, it has no rational foundation for these, and though it +has the idea of higher and lower, yet, because this is without +foundation, it lets it slip, it never grips the idea, and so easily +slides into the view that all is equally divine. The thought that all +is God, and the thought that there are higher and lower beings, are, +on the surface, opposed and inconsistent theories. Yet both are +necessary, and it is the business of philosophy to find a +reconciliation. This Aristotle does, but Hinduism fails to do. It +asserts both, but fails to bring them to unity. Now it asserts one +view, and again at another time it asserts the other. And this, of +course, is connected with the general defect of oriental thinking, its +vagueness. Everything is seen, but seen in a haze, in which all things +appear one, in which shapes flow into another, in which nothing has an +outline, in which even vital distinctions are obliterated. Hence it is +that, though oriental thought contains, in one way or another, +practically all philosophical ideas, it grips none, and can hold +nothing fast. It seizes its object, but its flabby grasp relaxes and +slips off. Hinduism, like modern science, has its doctrine of +evolution. But it has no philosophy of evolution. + + + +{314} + +5. Ethics. + +_(a) The Individual_. + +A strong note of practical moderation pervades the ethics of +Aristotle. While Plato's ethical teaching transcended the ordinary +limits of human life, and so lost itself in ideal Utopias, Aristotle, +on the other hand, sits down to make practical suggestions: He wishes +to enquire what the good is, but by this he means, not some ideal good +impossible of attainment upon this earth, but rather that good which, +in all the circumstances in which men find themselves, ought to be +realizable. The ethical theories of Plato and Aristotle are thus +characteristic of the two men. Plato despised the world of sense, and +sought to soar altogether beyond the common life of the senses. +Aristotle, with his love of facts and of the concrete, keeps close +within the bounds of actual human experience. + +The first question for ethics is the nature of the _summum bonum_. We +desire one thing for the sake of a second, we desire that for the sake +of a third. But if this series of means and ends goes on _ad +infinitum_, then all desire and all action are futile and purposeless. +There must be some one thing which we desire, not for the sake of +anything else, but on its own account. What is this end in itself, +this _summum bonum_, at which all human activity ultimately aims. +Everybody, says Aristotle, is agreed about the name of this end. It is +happiness. What all men seek, what is the motive of all their actions, +that which they desire for the sake of itself and nothing beyond, is +happiness. But though all agree as to the name, beyond that there is +no agreement. Philosophers, {315} no less than the vulgar, differ as +to what this word happiness means. Some say it is a life of pleasure. +Others say it consists in the renunciation of pleasures. Some +recommend one life, some another. + +We must repeat here the warning which was found necessary in the case +of Plato, who also called the _summum bonum_ happiness. Aristotle's +doctrine is no more to be confused with modern utilitarianism than is +Plato's. Moral activity is usually accompanied by a subjective feeling +of enjoyment. In modern times the word happiness connotes the feeling +of enjoyment. But for the Greeks it was the moral activity which the +word signified. For Aristotle an action is not good because it yields +enjoyment. On the contrary, it yields enjoyment because it is good. +The utilitarian doctrine is that the enjoyment is the ground of the +moral value. But, for Aristotle, the enjoyment is the consequence of +the moral value. Hence when he tells us that the highest good is +happiness, he is giving us no information regarding its nature, but +merely applying a new name to it. We have still to enquire what the +nature of the good is. As he himself says, everyone agrees upon the +name, but the real question is what this name connotes. + +Aristotle's solution of this problem follows from the general +principles of his philosophy. We have seen that, throughout nature, +every being has its proper end, and the attainment of this end is its +special function. Hence the good for each being must be the adequate +performance of its special function. The good for man will not consist +in the pleasure of the senses. Sensation is the special function of +animals, but not of man. Man's special function is reason. Hence the +proper {316} activity of reason is the _summum bonum_, the good for +man. Morality consists in the life of reason. But what precisely that +means we have still to see. + +Man is not only a reasoning animal. As the higher being, he contains +within himself the faculties of the lower beings also. Like plants he +is appetitive, like animals, sensitive. The passions and appetites are +an organic part of his nature. Hence virtue will be of two kinds. The +highest virtues will be found in the life of reason, and the life of +thought, philosophy. These intellectual virtues are called by +Aristotle dianoetic. Secondly, the ethical virtues proper will consist +in the submission of the passions and appetites to the control of +reason. The dianoetic virtues are the higher, because in them man's +special function alone is in operation, and also because the thinking +man most resembles God, whose life is a life of pure thought. + +Happiness, therefore, consists in the combination of dianoetic and +ethical virtues. They alone are of absolute value to man. Yet, though +he places happiness in virtue, Aristotle, in his broad and practical +way, does not overlook the fact that external goods and circumstances +have a profound influence upon happiness, and cannot be ignored, as +the Cynics attempted to ignore them. Not that Aristotle regards +externals as having any value in themselves. What alone is good in +itself, is an end in itself, is virtue. But external goods help a man +in his quest of virtue. Poverty, sickness, and misfortune, on the +other hand, hinder his efforts. Therefore, though externals are not +goods in themselves, they may be a means towards the good. Hence they +are not to be despised and rejected. Riches, friends, health, {317} +good fortune, are not happiness. But they are negative conditions of +it. With them happiness is within our grasp. Without them its +attainment is difficult. They will be valued accordingly. + +Aristotle says little in detail of the dianoetic virtues. And we may +turn at once to the main subject of his moral system, the ethical +virtues. These consist in the governance of the passions by reason. +Socrates was wrong in supposing that virtue is purely intellectual, +that nothing save knowledge is needed for it, and that if a man thinks +right he must needs do right. He forgot the existence of the passions, +which are not easily controlled. A man may reason perfectly, his +reason may point him to the right path, but his passions may get the +upper hand and lead him out of it. How then is reason to gain control +over the appetites? Only by practice. It is only by continual effort, +by the constant exercise of self-control, that the unruly passions can +be tamed. Once brought under the yoke, their control becomes habit. +Aristotle lays the utmost emphasis on the importance of habit in +morality. It is only by cultivating good habits that a man becomes +good. + +Now if virtue consists in the control of the appetites by reason, it +thus contains two constituents, reason and appetite. Both must be +present. There must be passions, if they are to be controlled. Hence +the ascetic ideal of rooting out the passions altogether is +fundamentally wrong. It overlooks the fact that the higher form does +not exclude the lower--that were contrary to the conception of +evolution--it includes and transcends it. It forgets that the passions +are an organic part of man, and that to destroy them is to do injury +to his {318} nature by destroying one of its essential members. The +passions and appetites are, in fact, the matter of virtue, reason its +form, and the mistake of asceticism is that it destroys the matter of +virtue, and supposes that the form can subsist by itself. Virtue means +that the appetites must be brought under control, not that they must +be eradicated. Hence there are two extremes to be avoided. It is +extreme, on the one hand, to attempt to uproot the passions; and it is +extreme, on the other, to allow them to run riot. Virtue means +moderation. It consists in hitting the happy mean as regards the +passions, in not allowing them to get the upper hand of reason, and +yet in not being quite passionless and apathetic. From this follows +the famous Aristotelian doctrine of virtue as the mean between two +extremes. Every virtue lies between two vices, which are the excess +and defect of appetite respectively. + +What is the criterion here? Who is to judge? How are we to know what +is the proper mean in any matter? Mathematical analogies will not help +us. It is not a case of drawing a straight line from one extreme to +the other, and finding the middle point by bisection. And Aristotle +refuses to lay down any rule of thumb in the matter. There is no +golden rule by virtue of which we can tell where the proper mean is. +It all depends on circumstances, and on the person involved. What is +the proper mean in one case is not the proper mean in another. What is +moderate for one man is immoderate for his neighbour. Hence the matter +must be left to the good judgment of the individual. A sort of fine +tact, good sense, is required to know the mean, which Aristotle calls +"insight." This insight is both the cause and the {319} effect of +virtue. It is the cause, because he who has it knows what he ought to +do. It is the effect, because it is only developed by practice. Virtue +renders virtue easy. Each time a man, by use of his insight, rightly +decides upon the mean, it becomes easier for him to discriminate next +time. + +Aristotle attempts no systematic classification of the virtues, as +Plato had done. This sort of schematism is contrary to the practical +character of his thought. He sees that life is far too complex to be +treated in this way. The proper mean is different in every different +case, and therefore there are as many virtues as there are +circumstances in life. His list of virtues, therefore, is not intended +to be exhaustive. It is merely illustrative. Though the number of +virtues is infinite, there are certain well-recognized kinds of good +action, which are of such constant importance in life that they have +received names. By the example of some of these virtues Aristotle +illustrates his doctrine of the mean. For instance, courage is the +mean between cowardice and rashness. That is to say, cowardice is the +defect of boldness, rashness the excess, courage the reasonable +medium. Munificence is the mean between pettiness and vulgar +profusion, good temper between spiritlessness and irascibility, +politeness between rudeness and obsequiousness, modesty between +shamelessness and bashfulness, temperance between insensibility and +intemperance. + +Justice hardly comes into the scheme; it is rather a virtue of the +State than of the individual, and it has been thought by some that the +book devoted to it in the "Ethics" has been misplaced. Justice is of +two kinds, distributive and corrective. Its fundamental idea {320} is +the assignment of advantages and disadvantages according to merit. +Distributive justice assigns honours and rewards according to the +worth of the individuals involved. Corrective justice has to do with +punishment. If a man improperly obtains an advantage, things must be +equalized by the imposition on him of a corresponding disadvantage. +Justice, however, is a general principle, and no general principle is +equal to the complexity of life. Special cases cannot be foreseen, The +necessary adjustment of human relations arising from this cause is +equity. + +Aristotle is a pronounced supporter of the freedom of the will. He +censures Socrates because the latter's theory of virtue practically +amounts to a denial of freedom. According to Socrates, whoever thinks +right must necessarily do right. But this is equivalent to denying a +man's power to choose evil. And if he cannot choose evil, he cannot +choose good. For the right-thinking man does not do right voluntarily, +but necessarily. Aristotle believed, on the contrary, that man has the +choice of good and evil. The doctrine of Socrates makes all actions +involuntary. But in Aristotle's opinion only actions performed under +forcible compulsion are involuntary. Aristotle did not, however, +consider the special difficulties in the theory of free will which in +modern times have made it one of the most thorny of all philosophical +problems. Hence his treatment of the subject is not of great value to +us. + + + +_(b) The State_. + +Politics is not a separate subject from Ethics. It is merely another +division of the same subject. And {321} this, not merely because +politics is the ethics of the State as against the individual, but +because the morality of the individual really finds its end in the +State, and is impossible without it. Aristotle agrees with Plato that +the object of the State is the virtue and happiness of the citizens, +which are impossible except in the State. For man is a political +animal by nature, as is proved by his possession of speech, which +would be useless to any save a social being. And the phrase "by +nature" means the same here as elsewhere in Aristotle. It means that +the State is the end of the individual, and that activity in the State +is part of man's essential function. The State, in fact, is the form, +the individual, the matter. The State provides both an education in +virtue and the necessary opportunities for its exercise. Without it +man would not be man at all. He would be a savage animal. + +The historical origin of the State Aristotle finds in the family. At +first there is the individual. The individual gets himself a mate, and +the family arises. The family, in Aristotle's opinion, includes the +slaves: for, like Plato, he sees no wrong in the institution of +slavery. A number of families, joining together, develop into a +village community, and a number of village communities into a _polis_ +(city), or State. Beyond the city, of course, the Greek idea of the +State did not extend. + +Such then is the historical origin of the State. But it is of capital +importance to understand that, in Aristotle's opinion, this question +of historical origin has nothing on earth to do with the far more +important question what the State essentially is. It is no mere +mechanical aggregate of families and village communities, {322} The +_nature_ of the State is not explained in this way. For though the +family is prior to the State in order of time, the State is prior to +the family and to the individual in order of thought, and in reality. +For the State is the end, and the end is always prior to that of which +it is the end. The state as form is prior to the family as matter, and +in the same way the family is prior to the individual. And as the +explanation of things is only possible by teleology, it is the end +which explains the beginning, it is the State which explains the +family, and not vice versa. + +The true nature of the State, therefore, is not that it is a +mechanical sum of individuals, as a heap of sand is the sum of its +grains. The State is a real organism, and the connexion of part to +part is not mechanical, but organic. The State has a life of its own. +And its members also have their own lives, which are included in the +higher life of the State. All the parts of an organism are themselves +organisms. And as the distinction between organic and inorganic is +that the former has its end in itself, while the latter has its end +external to it, this means that the State is an end in itself, that +the individual is an end in himself, and that the former end includes +the latter. Or we may express the same thought otherwise by saying +that, in the State, both the whole and the parts are to be regarded as +real, both having their own lives and, in their character as ends, +their own rights. Consequently, there are two kinds of views of the +nature of the State, which are, according to Aristotle, fundamentally +erroneous. The first is the kind of view which depends upon asserting +the reality of the parts, but denying the reality of the whole, or, +what is the same {323} thing, allowing that the individual is an end +in himself, but denying that the State as a whole is such an end or +has a separate life of its own. The second kind of false view is of +the opposite kind, and consists in allowing reality only to the whole +State, and denying the reality of its parts, the individuals. The +opinions that the State is merely a mechanical aggregate of +individuals, that it is formed by the combination of individuals or +families for the sake of mutual protection and benefit, and that it +exists only for these purposes, are examples of the first kind. Such +views subordinate the State to the individual. The State is treated as +an external contrivance for securing the life, the property, or the +convenience of the individual. The State exists solely for the sake of +the individual, and is not in itself an end. The individual alone is +real, the State unreal, because it is only a collection of +individuals. These views forget that the State is an organism, and +they forget all that this implies. Aristotle would have condemned, on +these grounds, the social contract theory so popular in the eighteenth +century, and likewise the view of modern individualism that the State +exists solely to ensure that the liberty of the individual is +curtailed only by the right of other individuals to the same liberty. +The opposite kind of false view is illustrated by the ideal State of +Plato. As the views we have just discussed deny the reality of the +whole, Plato's view, on the contrary, denies the reality of the parts. +For him the individual is nothing, the State everything. The +individual is absolutely sacrificed to the State. He exists only _for_ +the State, and thus Plato makes the mistake of setting up the State as +sole end and denying that the {324} individual is an end in himself. +Plato imagined that the State is a homogeneous unity, in which its +parts totally disappear. But the true view is that the State, as an +organism, is a unity which contains heterogeneity. It is coherent, yet +heterogeneous. And Plato makes the same mistake in his view of the +family as in his view of the individual. The family, Aristotle thinks, +is, like the individual, a real part of the social whole. It is an +organism within an organism. As such, it is an end in itself, has +absolute rights, and cannot be obliterated. But Plato expressly +proposed to abolish the family in favour of the State, and by +suggesting community of wives and the education of children in State +nurseries from the year of their birth, struck a deadly blow at an +essential part of the State organization. Aristotle thus supports the +institution of family, not on sentimental, but upon philosophic +grounds. + +Aristotle gives no exhaustive classification of different kinds of +State, because forms of government may be as various as the +circumstances which give rise to them. His classification is intended +to include only outstanding types. He finds that there are six such +types, of which three are good. The other three are bad, because they +are corruptions of the good types. These are (1) Monarchy, the rule of +one man by virtue of his being so superior in wisdom to all his +fellows that he naturally rules them. The corruption of Monarchy is +(2) Tyranny, the rule of one man founded not on wisdom and capacity, +but upon force. The second good form is (3) Aristocracy, the rule of +the wiser and better few, of which the corrupt form is (4) Oligarchy, +the rule of the rich and powerful few. (5) Constitutional Republic or +Timocracy arises {325} where all the citizens are of fairly equal +capacity, i.e., where no stand-out individual or class exists, so that +all or most take a share in the government. The corresponding corrupt +form is (6) Democracy, which, though it is the rule of the many, is +more especially characterized as being the rule of the poor. + +Unlike Plato, Aristotle depicts no ideal State. No single State, he +thinks, is in itself the best. Everything must depend upon the +circumstances. What is the best State in one age and county will not +be the best in another. Moreover, it is useless to discuss Utopian +constitutions. What alone interests the sane and balanced mind of +Aristotle is the kind of constitution which we may hope actually to +realize. Of the three good forms of government he considers that +monarchy is theoretically the best. The rule of a single perfectly +wise and just man would be better than any other. But it has to be +given up as impracticable, because such perfect individuals do not +exist. And it is only among primitive peoples that we find the hero, +the man whose moral stature so completely exalts him above his fellows +that he rules as a matter of course. The next best State is +aristocracy. And last, in Aristotle's opinion, comes constitutional +republic, which is, however, perhaps the State best suited to the +special needs and level of development of the Greek city-states. + + + +6. Aesthetics, or the Theory of Art. + +Plato had no systematic philosophy of Art, and his views had to be +collected from scattered references. Aristotle likewise has scarcely a +system, though his opinions are more connected, and though he devoted +a special tretise, the "Poetics", to the subject. And this {326} book, +which has come down to us in a fragmentary condition, deals exclusively +with poetry, and even in poetry only the drama is considered in detail. +What we have from Aristotle on the subject of aesthetics may be divided +roughly into two classes, firstly, reflections on the nature and +significance of art in general, and, secondly, a more detailed +application of these principles to the art of poetry. We shall deal +with these two classes of opinions in that order. + +In order to know what art is, we must first know what it is not. It +must be distinguished from kindred activities. And firstly, it is +distinguished from morality in that morality is concerned with action, +art with production. Morality consists in the activity itself, art in +that which the activity produces. Hence the state of mind of the +actor, his motives, feelings, etc., are important in morality, for +they are part of the act itself. But they are not important in art, +the only essential being that the work of art should turn out well, +however it has been produced. Secondly, art is distinguished from the +activity of nature, which it in many respects resembles. Organic +beings reproduce their own kind, and, in the fact that it is concerned +with production, generation resembles art. But in generation, the +living being produces only itself. The plant produces a plant, man +begets man. But the artist produces something quite other than +himself, a poem, a picture, a statue. + +Art is of two kinds, according as it aims at completing the work of +nature, or at creating something new, an imaginary world of its own +which is a copy of the real world. In the former case, we get such +arts as that of {327} medicine. Where nature has failed to produce a +healthy body, the physician helps nature out, and completes the work +that she has begun. In the latter case, we get what are, in modern +times, called the fine arts. These Aristotle calls the imitative arts. +We saw that Plato regarded all art as imitative, and that such a view +is essentially unsatisfactory. Now Aristotle uses the same word, which +he perhaps borrowed from Plato, but his meaning is not the same as +Plato's, nor does he fall into the same mistakes. That in calling art +imitative he has not in mind the thought that it has for its aim +merely the faithful copying of natural objects is proved by the fact +that he mentions music as the most imitative of the arts, whereas +music is, in fact, in this sense, the least imitative of all. The +painter may conceivably be regarded as imitating trees, rivers, or +men, but the musician for the most part produces what is unlike +anything in nature. What Aristotle means is that the artist copies, +not the sensuous object, but what Plato would call the Idea. Art is +thus not, in Plato's contemptuous phrase, a copy of a copy. It is a +copy of the original. Its object is not this or that particular thing, +but the universal which manifests itself in the particular. Art +idealizes nature, that is, sees the Idea in it. It regards the +individual thing, not as an individual, but in its universal aspects, +as the fleeting embodiment of an eternal thought. Hence it is that the +sculptor depicts not the individual man, but rather the type-man, the +perfection of his kind. Hence too, in modern times, the portrait +painter is not concerned to paint a faithful image of his model, but +takes the model merely as a suggestion, and seizes upon that essential +and eternal {328} essence, that ideal thought, or universal, which he +sees shining through the sensuous materials in which it is imprisoned. +His task is to free it from this imprisonment. The common man sees +only the particular object. The artist sees the universal in the +particular. Every individual thing is a compound of matter and form, +of particular and universal. The function of art is to exhibit the +universal in it. + +Hence poetry is truer, more philosophical, than history. For history +deals only with the particular as the particular. It tells us only of +the _fact_, of what has happened. Its truth is mere correctness, +accuracy. It has not in it, as art has, the living and eternal truth. +It does not deal with the Idea. It yields us only the knowledge of +something that, having happened, having gone by, is finished. Its +object is transient and perishable. It concerns only the endless +iteration of meaningless events. But the object of art is that inner +essence of objects and events, which perishes not, and of which the +objects and events are the mere external drapery. If therefore we +would arrange philosophy, art, and history, in order of their +essential nobility and truth, we should place philosophy first, +because its object is the universal as it is in itself, the pure +universal. We should place art second, because its object is the +universal in the particular, and history last, because it deals only +with the particular as such. Yet because each thing in the world has +its own proper function, and errs if it seeks to perform the functions +of something else, hence, in Aristotle's opinion, art must not attempt +to emulate philosophy. It must not deal with the abstract universal. +The poet must not use his verses as a vehicle of abstract thought. His +proper {329} sphere is the universal as it manifests itself in the +particular, not the universal as it is in itself. Aristotle, for this +reason, censures didactic poetry. Such a poem as that of Empedocles, +who unfolded his philosophical system in metre, is not, in fact, +poetry at all. It is versified philosophy. Art is thus lower than +philosophy. The absolute reality, the inner essence of the world, is +thought, reason, the universal. To contemplate this reality is the +object alike of philosophy and of art. But art sees the Absolute not +in its final truth, but wrapped up in a sensuous drapery. Philosophy +sees the Absolute as it is in itself, in its own nature, in its full +truth; it sees it as what it essentially is, thought. Philosophy, +therefore, is the perfect truth. But this does not mean that art is to +be superseded and done away with. Because philosophy is higher than +art, it does not follow that a man should suppress the artist in +himself in order to rise to philosophy. For an essential thought of +the Aristotelian philosophy is that, in the scale of beings, even the +lower form is an end in itself, and has absolute rights. The higher +activities presuppose the lower, and rest upon them. The higher +includes the lower, and the lower, as an organic part of its being, +cannot be eradicated without injury to the whole. To suppress art in +favour of philosophy would be a mistake precisely parallel to the +moral error of asceticism. In treating of Aristotle's ethics we saw +that, although the activity of reason is held in highest esteem, the +attempt to uproot the passions was censured as erroneous. So here, +though philosophy is the crown of man's spiritual activity, art has +its rights, and is an absolute end in itself, a point which Plato +failed to see. In the human organism, the head is the {330} chief of +the members. But one does not cut off the hand because it is not the +head. + +Coming now to Aristotle's special treatment of the art of poetry, we +may note that he concentrates his attention almost exclusively upon +the drama. It does not matter whether the plot of a drama is +historical or fictitious. For the object of art, the exhibition of the +universal, is just as well attained in an imaginary as in a real +series of events. Its aim is not correctness, but truth, not facts, +but the Idea. Drama is of two kinds, tragedy and comedy. Tragedy +exhibits the nobler specimens of humanity, comedy the worse. This +remark should be carefully understood. It does not mean that the hero +of a tragedy is necessarily a good man in the ordinary sense. He may +even be a wicked man. But the point is that, in some sense, he must be +a great personality. He cannot be an insignificant person. He cannot +be a nonentity. Be he good or bad, he must be conceived in the grand +manner. Milton's Satan is not good, but he is great, and would be a +fit subject for a tragedy. The soundness of Aristotle's thought here +is very noteworthy. What is mean and sordid can never form the basis +of tragedy. Modern newspapers have done their best to debauch this +word tragedy. Some wretched noteless human being is crushed to death +by a train, and the newspapers head their paragraph "Fearful Tragedy +at Peckham Rye." Now such an incident may be sad, it may be dreadful, +it may be horrible, but it is not tragic. Tragedy no doubt deals with +suffering. But there is nothing great and ennobling about this +suffering, and tragedy is concerned with the sufferings of greatness. +In the same way, Aristotle does not mean that the comic {331} hero is +necessarily a wicked man, but that he is, on the whole, a poor +creature, an insignificant being. He may be very worthy, but there is +something low and ignoble about him which makes us laugh. + +Tragedy brings about a purification of the soul through pity and +terror. Mean, sordid, or dreadful things do not ennoble us. But the +representation of truly great and tragic sufferings arouses in the +beholder pity and terror which purge his spirit, and render it serene +and pure. This is the thought of a great and penetrating critic. The +theory of certain scholars, based upon etymological grounds, that it +means that the soul is purged, not _through_, but _of_ pity and +terror, that by means of a diarrhoea of these unpleasant emotions we +get rid of them and are left happy, is the thought of men whose +scholarship may be great, but whose understanding of art is limited. +Such a theory would reduce Aristotle's great and illuminating +criticism to the meaningless babble of a philistine. + + + +7. Critical Estimate of Aristotle's Philosophy. + +It is not necessary to spend so much time upon criticising Aristotle +as we spent upon doing the same for Plato, and that for two reasons. +In the first place, Plato with his obvious greatness abounded in +defects which had to be pointed out, whereas we have but little +adverse criticism for Aristotle. Secondly, Aristotle's main defect is +a dualism almost identical with that of Plato, and what has been said +of the one need only be shortly applied to the other. + +At bottom Aristotle's philosophy is the same as Plato's, with some of +the main defects and crudities removed. Plato was the founder of the +philosophy of the Idea. {332} But in his hands, idealism was clogged +with unessentials, and overgrown with excrescences. His crude theory +of the soul as a thing mechanically forced in and out of the body, his +doctrines of reincarnation and recollection, the belief that this +_thing_ the soul can travel to some place far away where it will see +those _things_ the Ideas, and above all, what is the root of all +these, the confusion between reality and existence, with its +consequent degradation of the universal to a mere particular--these +were the unessentials with which Plato connected his essential +idealism. To take the pure theory of Ideas--albeit not under that +name--to purge it of these encumbrances and to cast them upon the +rubbish heap, to cleanse Plato's gold of its dross, this was the task +of Aristotle. Thought, the universal, the Idea, form--call it what +you will--this is the ultimate reality, the foundation of the world, +the absolute prius of all things. So thought both Plato and Aristotle. +But whereas Plato began to draw mental pictures of the universal, to +imagine that it existed apart in a world of its own, and so might be +experienced by the vision of the wandering soul, Aristotle saw that +this was to treat thought as if it were a thing, to turn it into a +mere particular again. He saw that the universal, though it is the +real, has no existence in a world of its own, but only in this world, +only as a formative principle of particular things. This is the +key-note of his philosophy. Aristotle registers, therefore, an +enormous advance upon Plato. His system is the perfected and completed +Greek idealism. It is the highest point reached in the philosophy of +Greece. The flower of all previous thought, the essence and pure +distillation of the Greek philosophic spirit, the gathering {333} up +of all that is good in his predecessors and the rejection of all that +is faulty and worthless--such is the philosophy of Aristotle. It was +not possible for the Greek spirit to advance further. Further +development could be only decay. And so, in fact, it turned out to be. + + +Aristotle deserves, too, the credit of having produced the only +philosophy of evolution which the world has ever seen, with the +exception of that of Hegel; and Hegel was enabled to found a newer +theory of evolution only by following largely in the footsteps of +Aristotle. This was perhaps Aristotle's most original contribution to +thought. Yet the factors of the problem, though not its solution, he +took from his predecessors. The problem of becoming had tortured Greek +thought from the earliest ages. The philosophy of Heracleitus, in +which it was most prominent, had failed to solve it. Heracleitus and +his successors racked their brains to discover how becoming could be +possible. But even if they had solved this minor problem, the greater +question still remained in the background, what does this becoming +mean? Becoming for them was only meaningless change. It was not +development. The world-process was an endless stream of futile and +purposeless events, "a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, +signifying nothing." Aristotle not merely asked himself how becoming +is possible. He showed that becoming has a meaning, that it signifies +something, that the world-process is a rationally ordered development +towards a rational end. + +But, though Aristotle's philosophy is the highest presentation of the +truth in ancient times, it cannot be accepted as anything final and +faultless. Doubtless no philosophy can ever attain to finality. Let us +apply our {334} two-fold test. Does his principle explain the world, +and does it explain itself? First, does it explain the world? The +cause of Plato's failure here was the dualism in his system between +sense and thought, between matter and the Ideas. It was impossible to +derive the world from the Ideas, because they were absolutely +separated from the world. The gulf was so great that it could never be +bridged. Matter and Idea lay apart, and could never be brought +together. Now Aristotle saw this dualism in Plato, and attempted to +surmount it. The universal and the particular, he said, do not thus +lie apart, in different worlds. The Idea is not a thing here, and +matter a thing there, so that these two incommensurables have to be +somehow mechanically and violently forced together to form a world. +Universal and particular, matter and form, are inseparable. The +connexion between them is not mechanical, but organic. The dualism of +Plato is thus admitted and refuted. But is it really surmounted? The +answer must be in the negative. It is not enough by a _tour de force_ to +bring matter and form together, to assert that they are inseparable, +while they remain all the time, in principle, separate entities. If +the Absolute is form, matter ought to be deduced from form, shown to +be merely a projection and manifestation of it. It must be shown that +form not only moulds matter but produces it. If we assert that the one +primal reality is form, then clearly we must prove that all else in +the world, including matter, arises out of that prime being. Either +matter arises out of form or it does not. If it does, this arising +must be exhibited. If it does not, then form is not the sole ultimate +reality, for matter is equally an ultimate, underivative, {335} +primordial substance. In that case, we thus have two equally real +ultimate beings, each underived from the other, existing side by side +from all eternity. This is dualism, and this is the defect of +Aristotle. Not only does he not derive matter from form, but he +obviously sees no necessity for doing so. He would probably have +protested against any attempt to do so, for, when he identifies the +formal, final, and efficient causes with each other, leaving out the +material cause, this is equivalent to an assertion that matter cannot +be reduced to form. Thus his dualism is deliberate and persistent. The +world, says Aristotle, is composed of matter and form. Where does this +matter come from? As it does not, in his system, arise out of form, we +can only conclude that its being is wholly in itself, i.e., that it is +a substance, an absolute reality. And this is utterly inconsistent +with Aristotle's assertion that it is in itself nothing but a mere +potentiality. Thus, in the last resort, this dualism of sense and +thought, of matter and Idea, of unlimited and limiting, which runs, +"the little rift within the lute," through all Greek philosophy, is +not resolved. The world is not explained, because it is not derived +from a single principle. If form be the Absolute, the whole world must +flow out of it. In Aristotle's system, it does not. + +Secondly, is the principle of form self-explanatory? Here, again, we +must answer negatively. Most of what was said of Plato under this head +applies equally to Aristotle. Plato asserted that the Absolute is +reason, and it was therefore incumbent on him to show that his account +of reason was truly rational. He failed to do so. Aristotle asserts +the same thing, for form is only {336} another word for reason. Hence +he must show us that this form is a rational principle, and this means +that he must show us that it is necessary. But he fails to do so. How +is form a necessary and self-determining principle? Why should there +be such a principle as form? We cannot see any necessity. It is a mere +fact. It is nothing but an ultimate mystery. It is so, and that is an +end of it. But why it should be so, we cannot see. Nor can we see why +there should be any of the particular kinds of form that there are. To +explain this, Aristotle ought to have shown that the forms constitute +a systematic unity, that they can be deduced one from another, just as +we saw that Plato ought to have deduced all the Ideas from one +another. Thus Aristotle asserts that the form of plants is nutrition, +of animals sensation, and that the one passes into the other. But even +if this assertion be true, it is a mere fact. He ought not merely to +have asserted this, but to have deduced sensation from nutrition. +Instead of being content to allege that, as a fact, nutrition passes +into sensation, he ought to have shown that it must pass into +sensation, that the passage from one to the other is a logical +necessity. Otherwise, we cannot see the reason why this change occurs. +That is to say, the change is not _explained_. + +Consider the effects of this omission upon the theory of evolution. We +are told that the world-process moves towards an end, and that this +end is the self-realization of reason, and that it is proximately +attained in man, because man is a reasoning being. So far this is +quite intelligible. But this implies that each step in evolution is +higher than the last because it approaches nearer to {337} the end of +the world-process. And as that end is the realization of reason, this +is equivalent to saying that each step is higher than the last because +it is more rational. But how is sensation more rational than +nutrition? Why should it not be the other way about? Nutrition passes +through sensation into human reason. But why should not sensation pass +through nutrition into human reason? Why should not the order be +reversed? We cannot explain. And such an admission is absolutely fatal +to any philosophy of evolution. The whole object of such a philosophy +is to make it clear to us why the higher form is higher, and why the +lower is lower: why, for example, nutrition must, as lower, come +first, and sensation second, and not _vice versa_. If we can see no +reason why the order should not be reversed, this simply means that +our philosophy of evolution has failed in its main point. It means +that we cannot see any real difference between lower and higher, and +that therefore we have merely change without development, since it is +indifferent whether A passes into B, or B into A. The only way in +which Aristotle could have surmounted these difficulties would have +been to prove that sensation is a development of reason which goes +beyond nutrition. And he could only do this by showing that sensation +logically arises out of nutrition. For a logical development is the +same as a rational development. He ought to have logically deduced +sensation from nutrition, and so with all the other forms. As it is, +all that can be said is that Aristotle was the founder of a philosophy +of evolution because he saw that evolution implies movement towards an +end, and because he attempted to point out the different stages in the +attainment of that end, {338} but that he failed rationally to develop +the doctrine stage by stage. + +As neither the principle of form in general was shown to be necessary, +nor were the particular forms deduced from each other, we have to +conclude that Aristotle like Plato, _named_ a self-explanatory +principle, reason or form, as ultimate principle of things, but failed +to show in detail that it is self-explanatory. Yet, in spite these +defects, the philosophy of Aristotle is one of the greatest +philosophies that the world has ever seen, or is ever likely to see. +If it does not solve all problems, it does render the world more +intelligible to us than it was before. + + + +{339} + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF POST-ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY + +The rest of the story of Greek philosophy is soon told, for it is the +story of decay. The post-Aristotelian is the least instructive of the +three periods of Greek thought, and I shall delineate only its main +outlines. + +The general characteristics of the decay of thought which set in after +Aristotle are intimately connected with the political, social, and +moral events of the time. Although the huge empire of Alexander had +broken up at the conqueror's death, this fact had in no way helped the +Greek States to throw off the yoke of their oppressors. With the +single exception of Sparta, which stubbornly held out, they had +become, for all intents and purposes, subject to the dominion of +Macedonia. And the death of Alexander did not alter this fact. It was +not merely that rude might had overwhelmed a beautiful and delicate +civilization. That civilization itself was decaying. The Greeks had +ceased to be a great and free people. Their vitality was ebbing. Had +it not been one conqueror it would have been another. They were +growing old. They had to give way before younger and sturdier races. +It was not so many years now before Greece, passing from one alien +yoke to another, was to become no more than a Roman province. + +{340} + +Philosophy is not something that subsists independently of the growth +and decay of the spirit of man. It goes hand in hand with political, +social, religious, and artistic development. Political organization, +art, religion, science, and philosophy, are but different forms in +which the life of a people expresses itself. The innermost substance +of the national life is found in the national philosophy, and the +history of philosophy is the kernel of the history of nations. It was +but natural, then, that from the time of Alexander onwards Greek +philosophy should exhibit symptoms of decay. + +The essential mark of the decay of Greek thought was the intense +subjectivism which is a feature of all the post-Aristotelian schools. +Not one of them is interested in the solution of the world-problem for +its own sake. The pure scientific spirit, the desire for knowledge for +its own sake, is gone. That curiosity, that wonder, of which Aristotle +speaks as the inspiring spirit of philosophy, is dead. The motive +power of philosophy is no longer the disinterested pursuit of truth, +but only the desire of the individual to escape from the ills of life. +Philosophy only interests men in so far as it affects their lives. It +becomes anthropocentric and egocentric. Everything pivots on the +individual subject, his destiny, his fate, the welfare of his soul. +Religion has long since become corrupted and worthless, and philosophy +is now expected to do the work of religion, and to be a haven of +refuge from the storms of life. Hence it becomes essentially +practical. Before everything else it is ethical. All other departments +of thought are now subordinated to ethics. It is not as in the days of +the strength and youth of the Greek spirit, when Xenophanes or {341} +Anaxagoras looked out into the heavens, and naively wondered what the +sun and the stars were, and how the world arose. Men's thought no +longer turns outward toward the stars, but only inward upon +themselves. It is not the riddle of the universe, but the riddle of +human life, which makes them ponder. + +This subjectivism has as its necessary consequences, one-sidedness, +absence of originality, and finally complete scepticism. Since men are +no longer interested in the wider problems of the universe, but only +in the comparatively petty problems of human life, their outlook +becomes exclusively ethical, narrow, and one-sided. He who cannot +forget his own self, cannot merge and lose himself in the universe, +but looks at all things only as they affect himself, does not give +birth to great and universal thoughts. He becomes self-centred, and +makes the universe revolve round him. Hence we no longer have now +great, universal, all-embracing systems, like those of Plato and +Aristotle. Metaphysics, physics, logic, are not studied for their own +sakes, but only as preparations for ethics. Narrowness, however, is +always compensated by intensity, which in the end becomes fanaticism. +Hence the intense earnestness and almost miraculous heights of +fanatical asceticism, to which the Stoics attained. And an unbalanced +and one-sided philosophy leads to extremes. Such a philosophy, +obsessed by a single idea, unrestrained by any consideration for other +and equally important factors of truth, regardless of all other +claims, pushes its idea pig-headedly to its logical extreme. Such a +procedure results in paradoxes and extravagances. Hence the Stoics, if +they made duty their watchword, must needs conceive it in {342} the +most extreme opposition to all natural impulses, with a sternness +unheard of in any previous ethical doctrine save that of the Cynics. +Hence the Sceptics, if they lighted on the thought that knowledge is +difficult of attainment, must needs rush to the extreme conclusion +that any knowledge is utterly impossible. Hence the Neo-Platonists +must needs cap all these tendencies by making out a drunken frenzy of +the soul to be the true organ of philosophy, and by introducing into +speculation all the fantastic paraphernalia of sorcery, demons, and +demi-gods. Absence of sanity and balance, then, are characteristics of +the last period of Greek philosophy. The serenity and calm of Plato +and Aristotle are gone, and in their place we have turgidity and +extravagance. + +Lack of originality is a second consequence of the subjectivism of the +age. Since metaphysics, physics, and logic are not cultivated, except +in a purely practical interest, they do not flourish. Instead of +advancing in these arenas of thought, the philosophies of the age go +backwards. Older systems, long discredited, are revived, and their +dead bones triumphantly paraded abroad. The Stoics return to +Heracleitus for their physics, Epicurus resurrects the atomism of +Democritus. Even in ethics, on which they concentrate all their +thought, these post-Aristotelian systems have nothing essentially new +to say. Stoicism borrows its principal ideas from the Cynics, +Epicureanism from the Cyrenaics. The post-Aristotelians rearrange old +thoughts in a new order. They take up the ideas of the past and +exaggerate this or that aspect of them. They twist and turn them in +all directions, and squeeze them dry for a drop of new life. {343} But +in the end nothing new eventuates. Greek thought is finished, and +there is nothing new to be got out of it, torture it how they will. +From the first Stoic to the last Neo-Platonist, there is no +essentially new principle added to philosophy, unless we count as such +the sad and jaded ideas which the Neo-Platonists introduced from the +East. + +Lastly, subjectivism ends naturally in scepticism, the denial of all +knowledge, the rejection of all philosophy. We have already seen, in +the Sophists, the phenomenon of subjectivism leading to scepticism. +The Sophists made the individual subject the measure of truth and +morals, and in the end this meant the denial of truth and morality +altogether. So it is now. The subjectivism of the Stoics and +Epicureans is followed by the scepticism of Pyrrho and his successors. +With them, as with the Sophists, nothing is true or good in itself, +but only opinion makes it so. + + + +{344} + +CHAPTER XV + +THE STOICS + +Zeno of Cyprus, the founder of the Stoic School, a Greek of Phoenician +descent, was born about 342 B.C., and died in 270. He is said to have +followed philosophy; because he lost all his property in a +ship-wreck--a motive characteristic of the age. He came to Athens, and +learned philosophy under Crates the Cynic, Stilpo the Megaric, and +Polemo the Academic. About 300 B.C. he founded his school at the Stoa +Poecile (many-coloured portico) whence the name Stoic. He died by his +own hand. He was followed by Cleanthes, and then by Chrysippus, as +leaders of the school. Chrysippus was a man of immense productivity +and laborious scholarship. He composed over seven hundred books, but +all are lost. Though not the founder, he was the chief pillar of +Stoicism. The school attracted many adherents, and flourished for many +centuries, not only in Greece, but later in Rome, where the most +thoughtful writers, such as Marcus Aurelius, Seneca, and Epictetus, +counted themselves among its followers. + +We know little for certain as to what share particular Stoics, Zeno, +Cleanthes, or Chrysippus, had in the formation of the doctrines of the +school. But after Chrysippus the main lines of the doctrine were +complete. {345} We shall deal, therefore, with Stoicism as a whole, +and not with the special teaching of particular Stoics. The system is +divided into three parts, Logic, Physics, and Ethics, of which the +first two are entirely subservient to the last. Stoicism is +essentially a system of ethics which, however, is guided by a logic as +theory of method, and rests upon physics as foundation. + + + +Logic. + +We may pass over the formal logic of the Stoics, which is, in all +essentials, the logic of Aristotle. To this, however, they added a +theory, peculiar to themselves, of the origin of knowledge and the +criterion of truth. All knowledge, they said, enters the mind through +the senses. The mind is a _tabula rasa_, upon which sense-impressions +are inscribed. It may have a certain activity of its own, but this +activity is confined exclusively to materials supplied by the physical +organs of sense. This theory stands, of course, in sheer opposition to +the idealism of Plato, for whom the mind alone was the source of +knowledge, the senses being the sources of all illusion and error. The +Stoics denied the metaphysical reality of concepts. Concepts are +merely ideas in the mind, abstracted from particulars, and have no +reality outside consciousness. + +Since all knowledge is a knowledge of sense-objects, truth is simply +the correspondence of our impressions to things. How are we to know +whether our ideas are correct copies of things? How distinguish +between reality and imagination, dreams, or illusions? What is the +criterion of truth? It cannot lie in concepts, since these are of our +own making. Nothing is true save {346} sense-impressions, and +therefore the criterion of truth must lie in sensation itself. It +cannot be in thought, but must be in feeling. Real objects, said the +Stoics, produce in us an intense feeling, or conviction, of their +reality. The strength and vividness of the image distinguish these +real perceptions from a dream or fancy. Hence the sole criterion of +truth is this striking conviction, whereby the real forces itself upon +our consciousness, and will not be denied. The relapse into complete +subjectivity will here be noted. There is no universally grounded +criterion of truth. It is based, not on reason, but on feeling. All +depends on the subjective convictions of the individual. + + + +Physics. + +The fundamental proposition of the Stoic physics is that "nothing +incorporeal exists." This materialism coheres with the sensationalism +of their doctrine of knowledge. Plato placed knowledge in thought, and +reality, therefore, in the Idea. The Stoics, however, place knowledge +in physical sensation, and reality, therefore, in what is known by the +senses, matter. All things, they said, even the soul, even God +himself, are material and nothing more than material. This belief they +based upon two main considerations. Firstly, the unity of the world +demands it. The world is one, and must issue from one principle. We +must have a monism. The idealism of Plato and Aristotle had resolved +itself into a futile struggle against the dualism of matter and +thought. Since the gulf cannot be bridged from the side of the Idea, +we must take our stand on matter, and reduce mind to it. Secondly, +body and soul, God and {347} the world, are pairs which act and react +upon one another. The body, for example, produces thoughts +(sense-impressions) in the soul, the soul produces movements in the +body. This would be impossible if both were not of the same substance. +The corporeal cannot act on the incorporeal, nor the incorporeal on +the corporeal. There is no point of contact. Hence all must be equally +corporeal. + +All things being material, what is the original kind of matter, or +stuff, out of which the world is made? The Stoics turned to +Heracleitus for an answer. Fire is the primordial kind of being, and +all things are composed of fire. With this materialism the Stoics +combined pantheism. The primal fire is God. God is related to the +world exactly as the soul to the body. The human soul is likewise +fire, and comes from the divine fire. It permeates and penetrates the +entire body, and, in order that its interpenetration might be regarded +as complete, the Stoics denied the impenetrability of matter. Just as +the soul-fire permeates the whole body, so God, the primal fire, +pervades the entire world. He is the soul of the world. The world is +His body. + +But in spite of this materialism, the Stoics averred that God is +absolute reason. This is not a return to idealism. It does not imply +the incorporeality of God. For reason, like all else, is material. It +means simply that the divine fire is a rational element. Since God is +reason, it follows that the world is governed by reason, and this +means two things. It means, firstly, that there is purpose in the +world, and therefore, order, harmony, beauty, and design. Secondly, +since reason is law as opposed to the lawless, it means that the +universe is {348} subject to the absolute sway of law, is governed by +the rigorous necessity of cause and effect. + +Hence the individual is not free. There can be no true freedom of the +will in a world governed by necessity. We may, without harm, say that +we choose to do this or that, that our acts are voluntary. But such +phrases merely mean that we assent to what we do. What we do is none +the less governed by causes, and therefore by necessity. + +The world-process is circular. God changes the fiery substance of +himself first into air, then water, then earth. So the world arises. +But it will be ended by a conflagration in which all things will +return into the primal fire. Thereafter, at a pre-ordained time, God +will again transmute himself into a world. It follows from the law of +necessity that the course taken by this second, and every subsequent, +world, will be identical in every way with the course taken by the +first world. The process goes on for ever, and nothing new ever +happens. The history of each successive world is the same as that of +all the others down to the minutest details. + +The human soul is part of the divine fire, and proceeds into man from +God. Hence it is a rational soul, and this is a point of cardinal +importance in connexion with the Stoic ethics. But the soul of each +individual does not come direct from God. The divine fire was breathed +into the first man, and thereafter passes from parent to child in the +act of procreation. After death, all souls, according to some, but +only the souls of the good, according to others, continue in +individual existence until the general conflagration in which they, +and all else, return to God. + + + +{349} + +Ethics. + +The Stoic ethical teaching is based upon two principles already +developed in their physics; first, that the universe is governed by +absolute law, which admits of no exceptions; and second, that the +essential nature of man is reason. Both are summed up in the famous +Stoic maxim, "Live according to nature." For this maxim has two +aspects. It means, in the first place, that men should conform +themselves to nature in the wider sense, that is, to the laws of the +universe, and secondly, that they should conform their actions to +nature in the narrower sense, to their own essential nature, reason. +These two expressions mean, for the Stoics, the same thing. For the +universe is governed not only by law, but by the law of reason, and +man in following his own rational nature is _ipso facto_ conforming +himself to the laws of the larger world. In a sense, of course, there +is no possibility of man's disobeying the laws of nature, for he, like +all else in the world, acts of necessity. And it might be asked, what +is the use of exhorting a man to obey the laws of the universe, when, +as part of the great mechanism of the world, he cannot by any +possibility do anything else? It is not to be supposed that a genuine +solution of this difficulty is to be found in Stoic philosophy. They +urged, however, that, though man will in any case do as the necessity +of the world compels him, it is given to him alone, not merely to obey +the law, but to assent to his own obedience, to follow the law +consciously and deliberately, as only a rational being can. + +Virtue, then, is the life according to reason. Morality is simply +rational action. It is the universal reason which is to govern our +lives, not the caprice and self-will {350} of the individual. The wise +man consciously subordinates his life to the life of the whole +universe, and recognises himself as merely a cog in the great machine. +Now the definition of morality as the life according to reason is not +a principle peculiar to the Stoics. Both Plato and Aristotle taught +the same. In fact, as we have already seen, to found morality upon +reason, and not upon the particular foibles, feelings, or intuitions, +of the individual self, is the basis of every genuine ethic. But what +was peculiar to the Stoics was the narrow and one-sided interpretation +which they gave to this principle. Aristotle had taught that the +essential nature of man is reason, and that morality consists in +following this, his essential nature. But he recognized that the +passions and appetites have their place in the human organism. He did +not demand their suppression, but merely their control by reason. But +the Stoics looked upon the passions as essentially irrational, and +demanded their complete extirpation. They envisaged life as a battle +against the passions, in which the latter had to be completely +annihilated. Hence their ethical views end in a rigorous and +unbalanced asceticism. + +Aristotle, in his broad and moderate way, though he believed virtue +alone to possess intrinsic value, yet allowed to external goods and +circumstances a place in the scheme of life. The Stoics asserted that +virtue alone is good, vice alone evil, and that all else is absolutely +indifferent. Poverty, sickness, pain, and death, are not evils. +Riches, health, pleasure, and life, are not goods. A man may commit +suicide, for in destroying his life he destroys nothing of value. +Above all, pleasure is not a good. One ought not to seek pleasure. +Virtue is {351} the only happiness. And man must be virtuous, not for +the sake of pleasure, but for the sake of duty. And since virtue alone +is good, vice alone evil, there followed the further paradox that all +virtues are equally good, and all vices equally evil. There are no +degrees. + +Virtue is founded upon reason, and so upon knowledge. Hence the +importance of science, physics, logic, which are valued not for +themselves, but because they are the foundations of morality. The +prime virtue, and the root of all other virtues, is therefore wisdom. +The wise man is synonymous with the good man. From the root-virtue, +wisdom, spring the four cardinal virtues, insight, bravery, +self-control, justice. But since all virtues have one root, he who +possesses wisdom possesses all virtue, he who lacks it lacks all. A +man is either wholly virtuous, or wholly vicious. The world is divided +into wise men and fools, the former perfectly good, the latter +absolutely evil. There is nothing between the two. There is no such +thing as a gradual transition from one to the other. Conversion must +be instantaneous. The wise man is perfect, has all happiness, freedom, +riches, beauty. He alone is the perfect king, statesman, poet, +prophet, orator, critic, physician. The fool has all vice, all misery, +all ugliness, all poverty. And every man is one or the other. Asked +where such a wise man was to be found, the Stoics pointed doubtfully +at Socrates and Diogenes the Cynic. The number of the wise, they +thought, is small, and is continually growing smaller. The world, +which they painted in the blackest colours as a sea of vice and +misery, grows steadily worse. + +In all this we easily recognize the features of a resuscitated +Cynicism. But the Stoics modified and softened {352} the harsh +outlines of Cynicism, and rounded off its angles. To do this meant +inconsistency. It meant that they first laid down harsh principles, +and then proceeded to tone them down, to explain them away, to admit +exceptions. Such inconsistency the Stoics accepted with their habitual +cheerfulness. This process of toning down their first harsh utterances +took place mainly in three ways. In the first place, they modified +their principle of the complete extirpation of the passions. Since +this is impossible, and, if possible, could only lead to immovable +inactivity, they admitted that the wise man might exhibit certain mild +and rational emotions, and that the roots of the passions might be +found in him, though he never allowed them to grow. In the second +place, they modified their principle that all else, save virtue and +vice, is indifferent. Such a view is unreal, and out of accord with +life. Hence the Stoics, with a masterly disregard of consistency, +stuck to the principle, and yet declared that among things indifferent +some are preferable to others. If the wise man has the choice between +health and sickness, he will choose the former. Indifferent things +were divided into three classes, those to be preferred, those to be +avoided, and those which are absolutely indifferent. In the third +place, the Stoics toned down the principle that men are either wholly +good, or wholly evil. The famous heroes and statesmen of history, +though fools, are yet polluted with the common vices of mankind less +than others. Moreover, what were the Stoics to say about themselves? +Were they wise men or fools? They hesitated to claim perfection, to +put themselves on a level with Socrates and Diogenes. Yet they could +not bring themselves to admit that there was {353} no difference +between themselves and the common herd. They were "proficients," and, +if not absolutely wise, approximated to wisdom. + +If the Stoics were thus merely less consistent Cynics, and originated +nothing in the doctrines of physics and ethics so far considered, yet +of one idea at least they can claim to be the inventors. This was the +idea of cosmopolitanism. This they deduced from two grounds. Firstly, +the universe is one, proceeds from one God, is ordered by one law, and +forms one system. Secondly, however much men may differ in +unessentials, they share their essential nature, their reason, in +common. Hence all men are of one stock, as rational beings, and should +form one State. The division of mankind into warring States is +irrational and absurd. The wise man is not a citizen of this or that +State. He is a citizen of the world. + +This is, however, only an application of principles already asserted. +The Stoics produced no essentially new thought, in physics, or in +ethics. Their entire stock of ideas is but a new combination of ideas +already developed by their predecessors. They were narrow, extreme, +over-rigorous, and one-sided. Their truths are all half-truths. And +they regarded philosophy too subjectively. What alone interested them +was the question, how am I to live? Yet in spite of these defects, +there is undoubtedly something grand and noble about their zeal for +duty, their exaltation above all that is petty and paltry, their +uncompromising contempt for all lower ends. Their merit, says +Schwegler, was that "in an age of ruin they held fast by the moral +idea." + + + +{354} + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE EPICUREANS + +Epicurus was born at Samos in 342 B.C. He founded his school a year or +two before Zeno founded the Stoa, so that the two schools from the +first ran parallel in time. The school of Epicurus lasted over six +centuries. Epicurus early became acquainted with the atomism of +Democritus, but his learning in earlier systems of philosophy does not +appear to have been extensive. He was a man of estimable life and +character. He founded his school in 306 B.C. The Epicurean philosophy +was both founded and completed by him. No subsequent Epicurean to any +appreciable extent added to or altered the doctrines laid down by the +founder. + +The Epicurean system is even more purely practical in tendency than +the Stoic. In spite of the fact that Stoicism subordinates logic and +physics to ethics, yet the diligence and care which the Stoics +bestowed upon such doctrines as those of the criterion of truth, the +nature of the world, the soul, and so on, afford evidence of a +genuine, if subordinate, interest in these subjects. Epicurus likewise +divided his system into logic (which he called canonic), physics, and +ethics, yet the two former branches of thought are pursued with an +obvious carelessness and absence of interest. It is evident that +learned {355} discussions bored Epicurus. His system is amiable and +shallow. Knowledge for its own sake is not desired. Mathematics, he +said, are useless, because they have no connexion with life. The +logic, or canonic, we may pass over completely, as possessing no +elements of interest, and come at once to the physics. + + + +Physics. + +Physics interests Epicurus only from one point of view--its power to +banish superstitious fear from the minds of men. All supernatural +religion, he thought, operates for the most part upon mankind by means +of fear. Men are afraid of the gods, afraid of retribution, afraid of +death because of the stories of what comes after death. This incessant +fear and anxiety is one of the chief causes of the unhappiness of men. +Destroy it, and we have at least got rid of the prime hindrance to +human happiness. We can only do this by means of a suitable doctrine +of physics. What is necessary is to be able to regard the world as a +piece of mechanism, governed solely by natural causes, without any +interference by supernatural beings, in which man is free to find his +happiness how and when he will, without being frightened by the bogeys +of popular religion. For though the world is ruled mechanically, man, +thought Epicurus in opposition to the Stoics, possesses free will, and +the problem of philosophy is to ascertain how he can best use this +gift in a world otherwise mechanically governed. What he required, +therefore, was a purely mechanical philosophy. To invent such a +philosophy for himself was a task not suited to his indolence, and for +which he could not pretend to possess the necessary {356} +qualifications. Therefore he searched the past, and soon found what he +wanted in the atomism of Democritus. This, as an entirely mechanical +philosophy, perfectly suited his ends, and the pragmatic spirit in +which he chose his beliefs, not on any abstract grounds of their +objective truth, but on the basis of his subjective needs and personal +wishes, will be noted. It is a sign of the times. When truth comes to +be regarded as something that men may construct in accordance with +their real or imagined needs, and not in accordance with any objective +standard, we are well advanced upon the downward path of decay. +Epicurus, therefore, adopted the atomism of Democritus _en bloc_, or +with trifling modifications. All things are composed of atoms and the +void. Atoms differ only in shape and weight, not in quality. They fall +eternally through the void. By virtue of free will, they deviate +infinitesimally from the perpendicular in their fall, and so clash +against one another. This, of course, is an invention of Epicurus, and +formed no part of the doctrine of Democritus. It might be expected of +Epicurus that his modifications would not be improvements. In the +present case, the attribution of free will to the atoms adversely +affects the logical consistency of the mechanical theory. From the +collision of atoms arises a whirling movement out of which the world +emerges. Not only the world, but all individual phenomena, are to be +explained mechanically. Teleology is rigorously excluded. In any +particular case, however, Epicurus is not interested to know what +particular causes determine a phenomenon. It is enough for him to be +sure that it is wholly determined by mechanical causes, and that +supernatural agencies are excluded. + +{357} + +The soul being composed of atoms which are scattered at death, a +future life is not to be thought of. But this is to be regarded as the +greatest blessing. It frees us from the fear of death, and the fear of +a hereafter. Death is not an evil. For if death is, we are not; if we +are, death is not. When death comes we shall not feel it, for is it +not the end of all feeling and consciousness? And there is no reason +to fear now what we know that we shall not feel when it comes. + +Having thus disposed of the fear of retribution in a future life, +Epicurus proceeds to dispose of the fear of the interference of the +gods in this life. One might have expected that Epicurus would for +this purpose have embraced atheism. But he does not deny the existence +of the gods. On the contrary, he believed that there are innumerable +gods. They have the form of men, because that is the most beautiful of +all forms. They have distinctions in sex. They eat, drink, and talk +Greek. Their bodies are composed of a substance like light. But though +Epicurus allows them to exist, he is careful to disarm them, and to +rob them of their fears. They live in the interstellar spaces, an +immortal, calm, and blessed existence. They do not intervene in the +affairs of the world, because they are perfectly happy. Why should +they burden themselves with the control of that which nowise concerns +them? Theirs is the beatitude of a wholly untroubled joy. + + "Immortal are they, clothed with powers, + Not to be comforted at all, + Lords over all the fruitless hours, + Too great to appease, too high to appal, + Too far to call." [Footnote 17] + +[Footnote 17: A. C. Swinburne's _Felise_.] + +{358} + +Man, therefore, freed from the fear of death and the fear of the gods, +has no duty save to live as happily as he can during his brief space +upon earth. We can quit the realm of physics with a light heart, and +turn to what alone truly matters, ethics, the consideration of how man +ought to conduct his life. + + +Ethics. + +If the Stoics were the intellectual successors of the Cynics, the +Epicureans bear the same relation to the Cyrenaics. Like Aristippus, +they founded morality upon pleasure, but they differ because they +developed a purer and nobler conception of pleasure than the Cyrenaics +had known. Pleasure alone is an end in itself. It is the only good. +Pain is the only evil. Morality, therefore, is an activity which +yields pleasure. Virtue has no value on its own account, but derives +its value from the pleasure which accompanies it. + +This is the only foundation which Epicurus could find, or desired to +find, for moral activity. This is his only ethical principle. The rest +of the Epicurean ethics consists in the interpretation of the idea of +pleasure. And, firstly, by pleasure Epicurus did not mean, as the +Cyrenaics did, merely the pleasure of the moment, whether physical or +mental. He meant the pleasure that endures throughout a lifetime, a +happy life. Hence we are not to allow ourselves to be enslaved by any +particular pleasure or desire. We must master our appetites. We must +often forego a pleasure if it leads in the end to greater pain. We +must be ready to undergo pain for the sake of a greater pleasure to +come. + +And it was just for this reason, secondly, that the {359} Epicureans +regarded spiritual and mental pleasures as far more important than +those of the body. For the body feels pleasure and pain only while +they last. The body has in itself neither memory nor fore-knowledge. +It is the mind which remembers and foresees. And by far the most +potent pleasures and pains are those of remembrance and anticipation. +A physical pleasure is a pleasure to the body only now. But the +anticipation of a future pain is mental anxiety, the remembrance of a +past joy is a present delight. Hence what is to be aimed at above all +is a calm untroubled mind, for the pleasures of the body are +ephemeral, those of the spirit enduring. The Epicureans, like the +Stoics, preached the necessity of superiority to bodily pains and +external circumstances. So a man must not depend for his happiness +upon externals; he must have his blessedness in his own self. The wise +man can be happy even in bodily torment, for in the inner tranquillity +of his soul he possesses a happiness which far outweighs any bodily +pain. Yet innocent pleasures of sense are neither forbidden, nor to be +despised. The wise man will enjoy whatever he can without harm. Of all +mental pleasures the Epicureans laid, perhaps, most stress upon +friendship. The school was not merely a collection of +fellow-philosophers, but above all a society of friends. + +Thirdly, the Epicurean ideal of pleasure tended rather towards a +negative than a positive conception of it. It was not the state of +enjoyment that they aimed at, much less the excitement of the +feelings. Not the feverish pleasures of the world constituted their +ideal. They aimed rather at a negative absence of pain, at +tranquillity, quiet calm, repose of spirit, undisturbed by fears and +{360} anxieties. As so often with men whose ideal is pleasure, their +view of the world was tinged with a gentle and even luxurious +pessimism. Positive happiness is beyond the reach of mortals. All that +man can hope for is to avoid pain, and to live in quiet contentment. + +Fourthly, pleasure does not consist in the multiplication of needs and +their subsequent satisfaction. The multiplication of wants only +renders it more difficult to satisfy them. It complicates life without +adding to happiness. We should have as few needs as possible. Epicurus +himself lived a simple life, and advised his followers to do the same. +The wise man, he said, living on bread and water, could vie with Zeus +himself in happiness. Simplicity, cheerfulness, moderation, +temperance, are the best means to happiness. The majority of human +wants, and the example of the thirst for fame is quoted, are entirely +unnecessary and useless. + +Lastly, the Epicurean ideal, though containing no possibility of an +exalted nobility, was yet by no means entirely selfish. A kindly, +benevolent temper appeared in these men. It is pleasanter, they said, +to do a kindness than to receive one. There is little of the stern +stuff of heroes, but there is much that is gentle and lovable, in the +amiable moralizings of these butterfly-philosophers. + + + +{361} + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE SCEPTICS + +Scepticism is a semi-technical term in philosophy, and means the +doctrine which doubts or denies the possibility of knowledge. It is +thus destructive of philosophy, since philosophy purports to be a form +of knowledge. Scepticism appears and reappears at intervals in the +history of thought. We have already met with it among the Sophists. +When Gorgias said that, if anything exists, it cannot be known, this +was a direct expression of the sceptical spirit. And the Protagorean +"Man is the measure of all things" amounts to the same thing, for it +implies that man can only know things as they appear to him, and not +as they are in themselves. In modern times the most noted sceptic was +David Hume, who attempted to show that the most fundamental categories +of thought, such as substance and causality, are illusory, and thereby +to undermine the fabric of knowledge. Subjectivism usually ends in +scepticism. For knowledge is the relation of subject and object, and +to lay exclusive emphasis upon one of its terms, the subject, ignoring +the object, leads to the denial of the reality of everything except +that which appears to the subject. This was so with the Sophists. And +now we have the reappearance of a similar {362} phenomenon. The +Sceptics, of whom we are about to treat, made their appearance at +about the same time as the Stoics and Epicureans. The subjective +tendencies of these latter schools find their logical conclusion in +the Sceptics. Scepticism makes its appearance usually, but not always, +when the spiritual forces of a race are in decay. When its spiritual +and intellectual impulses are spent, the spirit flags, grows weary, +loses confidence, begins to doubt its power of finding truth; and the +despair of truth is scepticism. + +Pyrrho. + +The first to introduce a thorough-going scepticism among the Greeks +was Pyrrho. He was born about 360 B.C., and was originally a painter. +He took part in the Indian expedition of Alexander the Great. He left +no writings, and we owe our knowledge of his thoughts chiefly to his +disciple Timon of Phlius. His philosophy, in common with all +post-Aristotelian systems, is purely practical in its outlook. +Scepticism, the denial of knowledge, is not posited on account of its +speculative interest, but only because Pyrrho sees in it the road to +happiness, and the escape from the calamities of life. + +The proper course of the sage, said Pyrrho, is to ask himself three +questions. Firstly, he must ask what things are and how they are +constituted; secondly, how we are related to these things; thirdly, +what ought to be our attitude towards them. As to what things are, we +can only answer that we know nothing. We only know how things appear +to us, but of their inner substance we are ignorant. The same thing +appears differently to different people, and therefore it is {363} +impossible to know which opinion is right. The diversity of opinion +among the wise, as well as among the vulgar, proves this. To every +assertion the contradictory assertion can be opposed with equally good +grounds, and whatever my opinion, the contrary opinion is believed by +somebody else who is quite as clever and competent to judge as I am. +Opinion we may have, but certainty and knowledge are impossible. Hence +our attitude to things (the third question), ought to be complete +suspense of judgment. We can be certain of nothing, not even of the +most trivial assertions. Therefore we ought never to make any positive +statements on any subject. And the Pyrrhonists were careful to import +an element of doubt even into the most trifling assertions which they +might make in the course of their daily life. They did not say, "it is +so," but "it seems so," or "it appears so to me." Every observation +would be prefixed with a "perhaps," or "it may be." + +This absence of certainty applies as much to practical as to +theoretical matters. Nothing is in itself true or false. It only +appears so. In the same way, nothing is in itself good or evil. It is +only opinion, custom, law, which makes it so. When the sage realizes +this, he will cease to prefer one course of action to another, and the +result will be apathy, _"ataraxia."_ All action is the result of +preference, and preference is the belief that one thing is better than +another. If I go to the north, it is because, for one reason or +another, I believe that it is better than going to the south. Suppress +this belief, learn that the one is not in reality better than the +other, but only appears so, and one would go in no direction at all. +Complete suppression of opinion would mean complete {364} suppression +of action, and it was at this that Pyrrho aimed. To have no opinions +was the sceptical maxim, because in practice it meant apathy, total +quietism. All action is founded on belief, and all belief is delusion, +hence the absence of all activity is the ideal of the sage. In this +apathy he will renounce all desires, for desire is the opinion that +one thing is better than another. He will live in complete repose, in +undisturbed tranquillity of soul, free from all delusions. Unhappiness +is the result of not attaining what one desires, or of losing it when +attained. The wise man, being free from desires, is free from +unhappiness. He knows that, though men struggle and fight for what +they desire, vainly supposing some things better than others, such +activity is but a futile struggle about nothing, for all things are +equally indifferent, and nothing matters. Between health and sickness, +life and death, difference there is none. Yet in so far as the sage is +compelled to act, he will follow probability, opinion, custom, and +law, but without any belief in the essential validity or truth of +these criteria. + + + +The New Academy. + +The scepticism founded by Pyrrho soon became extinct, but an +essentially similar doctrine began to be taught in the school of +Plato. After the death of Plato, the Academy continued, under various +leaders, to follow in the path marked out by the founder. But, under +the leadership of Arcesilaus, scepticism was introduced into the +school, and from that time, therefore, it is usually known as the New +Academy, for though its historical continuity as a school was not +broken, its essential character underwent change. What especially +{365} characterized the New Academy was its fierce opposition to the +Stoics, whom its members attacked as the chief dogmatists of the time. +Dogmatism, for us, usually means making assertions without proper +grounds. But since scepticism regards all assertions as equally +ill-grounded, the holding of any positive opinion whatever is by it +regarded as dogmatism. The Stoics were the most powerful, influential, +and forceful of all those who at that time held any positive +philosophical opinions. Hence they were singled out for attack by the +New Academy as the greatest of dogmatists. Arcesilaus attacked +especially their doctrine of the criterion of truth. The striking +conviction which, according to the Stoics, accompanies truth, equally +accompanies error. There is no criterion of truth, either in sense or +in reason. "I am certain of nothing," said Arcesilaus; "I am not even +certain that I am certain of nothing." + +But the Academics did not draw from their scepticism, as Pyrrho had +done, the full logical conclusion as regards action. Men, they +thought, must act. And, although certainty and knowledge are +impossible, probability is a sufficient guide for action. + +Carneades is usually considered the greatest of the Academic Sceptics. +Yet he added nothing essentially new to their conclusions. He appears, +however, to have been a man of singularly acute and powerful mind, +whose destructive criticism acted like a battering-ram not only upon +Stoicism, but upon all established philosophies. As examples of his +thoughts may be mentioned the two following. Firstly, nothing can ever +be proved. For the conclusion must be proved by premises, which in +turn require proof, and so _ad infinitum_. Secondly, {366} it is +impossible to know whether our ideas of an object are true, i.e., +whether they resemble the object, because we cannot compare our idea +with the object itself. To do so would involve getting outside our own +minds. We know nothing of the object except our idea of it, and +therefore we cannot compare the original and the copy, since we can +see only the copy. + + + +Later Scepticism. + +After a period of obliteration, Scepticism again revived in the +Academy. Of this last phase of Greek scepticism, Aenesidemus, a +contemporary of Cicero, is the earliest example, and later we have the +well-known names of Simplicius and Sextus Empiricus. The distinctive +character of later scepticism is its return to the position of Pyrrho. +The New Academy, in its eagerness to overthrow the Stoic dogmatism, +had fallen into a dogmatism of its own. If the Stoics dogmatically +asserted, the Academics equally dogmatically denied. But wisdom lies +neither in assertion nor denial, but in doubt. Hence the later +Sceptics returned to the attitude of complete suspense of judgment. +Moreover, the Academics had allowed the possibility of probable +knowledge. And even this is now regarded as dogmatism. Aenesidemus was +the author of the ten well-known arguments to show the impossibility +of knowledge. They contain in reality, not ten, but only two or three +distinct ideas, several being merely different expressions of the same +line of reasoning. They are as follows. (1) The feelings and +perceptions of all living beings differ. (2) Men have physical and +mental differences, which make things appear different to them. (3) +The different senses give different {367} impressions of things. (4) +Our perceptions depend on our physical and intellectual conditions at +the time of perception. (5) Things appear different in different +positions, and at different distances. (6) Perception is never direct, +but always through a medium. For example, we see things through the +air. (7) Things appear different according to variations in their +quantity, colour, motion, and temperature. (8) A thing impresses us +differently when it is familiar and when it is unfamiliar. (9) All +supposed knowledge is predication. All predicates give us only the +relation of things to other things or to ourselves; they never tell us +what the thing in itself is. (10) The opinions and customs of men are +different in different countries. + + + +{368} + +CHAPTER XVIII + +TRANSITION TO NEO-PLATONISM + +It has been doubted whether Neo-Platonism ought to be included in +Greek philosophy at all, and Erdmann, in his "History of Philosophy," +places it in the medieval division. For, firstly, an interval of no +less than five centuries separates the foundation of Neo-Platonism +from the foundation of the preceding Greek schools, the Stoic, the +Epicurean, and the Sceptic. How long a period this is will be seen if +we remember that the entire development of Greek thought from Thales +to the Sceptics occupied only about three centuries. Plotinus, the +real founder of Neo-Platonism, was born in 205 A.D., so that it is, as +far as historical time is concerned, a product of the Christian era. +Secondly, its character is largely un-Greek and un-European. The Greek +elements are largely swamped by oriental mysticism. Its seat was not +in Greece, but at Alexandria, which was not a Greek, but a +cosmopolitan, city. Men of all races met here, and, in particular, it +was here that East and West joined hands, and the fusion of thought +which resulted was Neo-Platonism. But, on the other hand, it seems +wrong to include the thought of Plotinus and his successors in +medieval philosophy. The whole character of what is usually called +medieval philosophy was determined by its growth upon a distinctively +Christian soil. It was {369} Christian philosophy. It was the product +of the new era which Christianity had substituted for paganism. +Neo-Platonism, on the other hand, is not only unchristian, but even +anti-christian. The only Christian influence to be detected in it is +that of opposition. It is a survival of the pagan spirit in Christian +times. In it the old pagan spirit struggles desperately against its +younger antagonist, and finally succumbs. In it we see the last gasp +and final expiry of the ancient culture of the Greeks. So far as it is +not Asiatic in its elements, it draws its inspiration wholly from the +philosophies of the past, from the thought and culture of Greece. On +the whole, therefore, it is properly classified as the last school of +Greek philosophy. + +The long interval of time which elapsed between the rise of the +preceding Greek schools, whose history we have traced, and the +foundation of Neo-Platonism, was filled up by the continued existence, +in more or less fossilized form, of the main Greek schools, the +Academic, the Peripatetic, the Stoic, and the Epicurean, scattered and +harried at times by the inroads of scepticism. It would be wearisome +to follow in detail the development in these schools, and the more or +less trifling disputes of which it consists. No new thought, no +original principle, supervened. It is sufficient to say that, as time +went on, the differences between the schools became softened, and +their agreements became more prominent. As intellectual vigour wanes, +there is always the tendency to forget differences, to rest, as the +orientals do, in the good-natured and comfortable delusion that all +religions and all philosophies really mean much the same thing. Hence +eclecticism became characteristic of the schools. {370} They did not +keep themselves distinct. We find Stoic doctrines taught by Academics, +Academic doctrines by Stoics. Only the Epicureans kept their race +pure, and stood aloof from the general eclecticism of the time. +Certain other tendencies also made their appearance. There was a +recrudescence of Pythagoreanism, with its attendant symbolism and +mysticism. There grew up a tendency to exalt the conception of God so +high above the world, to widen so greatly the gulf which divides them, +that it was felt that there could be no community between the two, +that God could not act upon matter, nor matter upon God. Such +interaction would contaminate the purity of the Absolute. Hence all +kinds of beings were invented, demons, spirits, and angels, intended +to fill up the gap, and to act as intermediaries between God and the +world. + +As an example of these latter tendencies, and as precursor of +Neo-Platonism proper, Philo the Jew deserves a brief mention. He lived +at Alexandria between 30 B.C. and 50 A.D. A staunch upholder of the +religion and scriptures of the Hebrew race, he believed in the verbal +inspiration of the Old Testament. But he was learned in Greek studies, +and thought that Greek philosophy was a dimmer revelation of those +truths which were more perfectly manifested in the sacred books of his +own race. And just as Egyptian priests, out of national vanity, made +out that Greek philosophy came from Egypt, just as orientals now +pretend that it came from India, so Philo declared that the origin of +all that was great in Greek philosophy was to be found in Judea. Plato +and Aristotle, he was certain, were followers of Moses, used the Old +Testament, and gained their wisdom therefrom! {371} Philo's own ideas +were governed by the attempt to fuse Jewish theology and Greek +philosophy into a homogeneous system. It was Philo, therefore, who was +largely responsible for contaminating the pure clear air of Greek +thought with the enervating fogs of oriental mysticism. + +Philo taught that God, as the absolutely infinite, must be elevated +completely above all that is finite. No name, no thought, can +correspond to the infinity of God. He is the unthinkable and the +ineffable, and His nature is beyond the reach of reason. The human +soul reaches up to God, not through thought, but by means of a +mystical inner illumination and revelation that transcends thought. +God cannot act directly upon the world, for this would involve His +defilement by matter and the limitation of His infinity. There are +therefore intermediate spiritual beings, who, as the ministers of God, +created and control the world. All these intermediaries are included +in the Logos, which is the rational thought which governs the world. +The relation of God to the Logos, and of the Logos to the world, is +one of progressive emanation. Clearly the idea of emanation is a mere +metaphor which explains nothing, and this becomes more evident when +Philo compares the emanations to rays of light issuing from an +effulgent centre and growing less and less bright as they radiate +outwards. When we hear this, we know in what direction we are moving. +This has the characteristic ring of Asiatic pseudo-philosophy. It +reminds us forcibly of the Upanishads. We are passing out of the realm +of thought, reason, and philosophy, into the dream-and-shadow-land of +oriental mysticism, where the heavy scents of beautiful poison flowers +drug the intellect and obliterate thought in a blissful and languorous +repose. + + + +{372} + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE NEO-PLATONISTS + +The word Neo-Platonism is a misnomer. It does not stand for a genuine +revival of Platonism. The Neo-Platonists were no doubt the offspring +of Plato, but they were the illegitimate offspring. The true greatness +of Plato lay in his rationalistic idealism; his defects were mostly +connected with his tendency to myth and mysticism. The Neo-Platonists +hailed his defects as the true and inner secret of his doctrine, +developed them out of all recognition, and combined them with the hazy +dream-philosophies of the East. The reputed founder was Ammonius +Saccas, but we may pass him over and come at once to his disciple +Plotinus, who was the first to develop Neo-Platonism into a system, +was the greatest of all its exponents, and may be regarded as its real +founder. He was born in 205 A.D. at Lycopolis in Egypt, went to Rome +in 245, founded his School there, and remained at the head of it till +his death in 270. He left extensive writings which have been +preserved. + +Plato had shown that the idea of the One, exclusive of all +multiplicity, was an impossible abstraction. Even to say "the One is," +involves the duality of the One. The Absolute Being can be no abstract +unity, but only a unity in multiplicity. Plotinus begins by ignoring +this {373} supremely important philosophical principle. He falls back +upon the lower level of oriental monism. God, he thinks, is absolutely +One. He is the unity which lies beyond all multiplicity. There is in +him no plurality, no movement, no distinction. Thought involves the +distinction between object and subject; therefore the One is above and +beyond thought. Nor is the One describable in terms of volition or +activity. For volition involves the distinction between the willer and +the willed, activity between the actor and that upon which he acts. +God, therefore, is neither thought, nor volition, nor activity. He is +beyond all thought and all being. As absolutely infinite, He is also +absolutely indeterminate. All predicates limit their subject, and +hence nothing can be predicated of the One. He is unthinkable, for all +thought limits and confines that which is thought. He is the ineffable +and inconceivable. The sole predicates which Plotinus applies to Him +are the One and the Good. He sees, however, that these predicates, as +much as any others, limit the infinite. He regards them, therefore, +not as literally expressing the nature of the infinite, but as +figuratively shadowing it forth. They are applied by analogy only. We +can, in truth, know nothing of the One, except that it _is_. + +Now it is impossible to derive the world from a first principle of +this kind. As being utterly exalted above the world, God cannot enter +into the world. As absolutely infinite, He can never limit Himself to +become finite, and so give rise to the world of objects. As absolutely +One, the many can never issue out of Him. The One cannot create the +world, for creation is an activity, and the One is immutable and +excludes all {374} activity. As the infinite first principle of all +things, the One must be regarded as in some sense the source of all +being. And yet how it can give rise to being is inconceivable, since +any such act destroys its unity and infinity. We saw once for all, in +the case of the Eleatics, that it is fatal to define the Absolute as +unity exclusive of all multiplicity, as immutable essence exclusive of +all process, and that if we do so we cut off all hope of showing how +the world has issued from the Absolute. It is just the same with +Plotinus. There is in his system the absolute contradiction that the +One is regarded, on the one hand, as source of the world, and on the +other as so exalted above the world that all relationship to the world +is impossible. We come, therefore, to a complete deadlock at this +point. We can get no further. We can find no way to pass from God to +the world. We are involved in a hopeless, logical contradiction. But +Plotinus was a mystic, and logical absurdities do not trouble mystics. +Being unable to explain how the world can possibly arise out of the +vacuum of the One, he has recourse, in the oriental style, to poetry +and metaphors. God, by reason of His super-perfection, "overflows" +Himself, and this overflow becomes the world. He "sends forth a beam" +from Himself. As flame emits light, as snow cold, so do all lower +beings issue from the One. Thus, without solving the difficulty, +Plotinus deftly smothers it in flowery phrases, and quietly passes on +his way. + +The first emanation from the One is called the Nous. This Nous is +thought, mind, reason. We have seen that Plato regarded the Absolute +itself as thought. For Plotinus, however, thought is derivative. The +One is beyond thought, and thought issues forth from the One {375} as +first emanation. The Nous is not discursive thought, however. It is +not in time. It is immediate apprehension, or intuition. Its object is +twofold. Firstly, it thinks the One, though its thought thereof is +necessarily inadequate. Secondly, it thinks itself. It is the thought +of thought, like Aristotle's God. It corresponds to Plato's world of +Ideas. The Ideas of all things exist in the Nous, and not only the +Ideas of classes, but of every individual thing. + +From the Nous, as second emanation, proceeds the world-soul. This is, +in Erdmann's phrase, a sort of faded-out copy of the Nous, and it is +outside time, incorporeal, and indivisible. It works rationally, but +yet is not conscious. It has a two-fold aspect, inclining upwards to +the Nous on the one hand, and downwards to the world of nature on the +other. It produces out of itself the individual souls which inhabit +the world. + +The idea of emanation is essentially a poetical metaphor, and not a +rational concept. It is conceived poetically by Plotinus as resembling +light which radiates from a bright centre, and grows dimmer as it +passes outwards, till it shades off at last into total darkness. This +total darkness is matter. Matter, as negation of light, as the limit +of being, is in itself not-being. Thus the crucial difficulty of all +Greek philosophy, the problem of the whence of matter, the dualism of +matter and thought, which we have seen Plato and Aristotle struggling +in vain to subjugate, is loosely and lightly slurred over by Plotinus +with poetic metaphors and roseate phrases. + +Matter Plotinus considers to be the ground of plurality and the cause +of all evil. Hence the object of life can {376} only be, as with +Plato, to escape from the material world of the senses. The first step +in this process of liberation is _"katharsis,"_ purification, the +freeing of oneself from the dominion of the body and the senses. This +includes all the ordinary ethical virtues. The second step is thought, +reason, and philosophy. In the third stage the soul rises above +thought to an intuition of the Nous. But all these are merely +preparatory for the supreme and final stage of exaltation into the +Absolute One, by means of trance, rapture, ecstasy. Here all thought +is transcended, and the soul passes into a state of unconscious swoon, +during which it is mystically united with God. It is not a thought of +God, it is not even that the soul sees God, for all such conscious +activities involve the separation of the subject from its object. In +the ecstasy all such disunion and separation are annihilated. The soul +does not look upon God from the outside. It becomes one with God. It +is God. Such mystical raptures can, in the nature of the case, only be +momentary, and the soul sinks back exhausted to the levels of ordinary +consciousness. Plotinus claimed to have been exalted in this divine +ecstasy several times during his life. + +After Plotinus Neo-Platonism continues with modifications in his +successors, Porphyry, Iamblicus, Syrianus, Proclus, and others. + +The essential character of Neo-Platonism comes out in its theory of +the mystical exaltation of the subject to God. It is the extremity of +subjectivism, the forcing of the individual subject to the centre of +the universe, to the position of the Absolute Being. And it follows +naturally upon the heels of Scepticism. In the Sceptics all faith in +the power of thought and reason had finally died out. They {377} took +as their watchword the utter impotence of reason to reach the truth. +From this it was but a step to the position that, if we cannot attain +truth by the natural means of thought, we will do so by a miracle. If +ordinary consciousness will not suffice, we will pass beyond ordinary +consciousness altogether. Neo-Platonism is founded upon despair, the +despair of reason. It is the last frantic struggle of the Greek spirit +to reach, by desperate means, by force, the point which it felt it had +failed to reach by reason. It seeks to take the Absolute by storm. It +feels that where sobriety has failed, the violence of spiritual +intoxication may succeed. + +It was natural that philosophy should end here. For philosophy is +founded upon reason. It is the effort to comprehend, to understand, to +grasp the reality of things intellectually. Therefore it cannot admit +anything higher than reason. To exalt intuition, ecstasy, or rapture, +above thought--this is death to philosophy. Philosophy in making such +an admission, lets out its own life-blood, which is thought. In +Neo-Platonism, therefore, ancient philosophy commits suicide. This is +the end. The place of philosophy is taken henceforth by religion. +Christianity triumphs, and sweeps away all independent thought from +its path. There is no more philosophy now till a new spirit of enquiry +and wonder is breathed into man at the Renaissance and the +Reformation. Then the new era begins, and gives birth to a new +philosophic impulse, under the influence of which we are still living. +But to reach that new era of philosophy, the human spirit had first to +pass through the arid wastes of Scholasticism. + + + +SUBJECT INDEX + +A + +Abortions, 291. + +Absolute, The; + as many in one, 70-71, 197; + as reason, 240-1, 307; + as knowable, 299; + as form, 307. +Actuality, 279. +Air, as first principle, 28. +Antinomy, 54. +Appearance, 61. +Aristocracy, 324. +Asceticism, defect of, 317. +_Ataraxia_, 363. +Atoms, 88 et seq, 356. +Aufklaerung, 119-120. + + +B + +Becoming; + Parmenides on, 44; + Heracleitus on, 73; + Empedocles on, 82; + Plato on, 192; + Aristotle on, 279-280 + +Being; + Parmenides on, 44 et seq; + Plato on, 191, 197. + + +C + +Causation, 6-7; + as explanation, 64; + Aristotle's doctrine of, 267-73. +Classification, 199. +Comedy, 330-1. +Concepts; + defined, 143; + identified with definitions, 145; + Socrates's doctrine of, 143-6; + objectivity of, 183; + Stoics on, 345. +Condensation, 28. +Contract, the social, 323. +Cosmopolitanism, 353. +Counter-earth, 38. +Criterion, The Stoic, 345-6. + + +D + +Darwinism, 293. +Death, problem of, 76-7. +Democracy, 123, 325. +Dialectic, 55, 183, 199, 204. +Dichotomy, 200. +Division, 199. +Dualism; + defined, 63; + of Eleatics, 68-70; + of Anaxagoras, 105; + of Plato, 238; + of Aristotle, 334-5. + + +E + +Eclipses, 103. +Ecstasy, 376-7. +Efficient cause, 269; + identified with final cause, 273-4. +Elements, The Four, 83. +Emanation, 371, 374-5. +Empty Space, 47, 89, 291-2 +Eros, 204. + +Evolution; + Anaximander and, 27; + Aristotle's doctrine of, 293-9, 307-12, 333, 336-7; + Spencer's doctrine of, 308 et seq. + +{379} + +Evil, problem of, 240-1. +Explanation, scientific, 64-5. +External goods, value of, 159, 31-6, 350, 359. + + +F + +Faith, age of, 151. +Family, The; Aristotle on, 324. +Final cause, 269; + identified with formal cause, 273. +Fire, as first principle, 78, 347. +First Cause, 66. +First Mover, 284-5. +Form, Aristotle's doctrine of, 267, 274-8. +Formal cause, 269; + identified with final cause, 273. +Free Will, 320, 348, 355. +Friendship, 225, 359. + + +G + +Genius, artistic, 231. +Geocentric hypothesis, 38, 211, 305. +Geometry, 3-5, 275. +God; + Xenophanes on, 41-2; + Socrates on, 132; + Plato on, 202-4; + Aristotle on, 283-8; + as first mover, 284-5; + as thought of thought, 285-6; + relation of, to the world, 282; + Plotinus on, 373. +Gods, The; + Democritus on, 92; + Protagoras on, 112; + Socrates on, 132; + Epicurus on, 357. +Good, + The Idea of, 198, 200-1, 244; + as God, 203. +Gravitation, 294-5. + +H + +Habit, 7. +Happiness; + Antisthenes on, 159; + Plato on, 220-1; + Aristotle on, 314-15; + Stoics on, 351; + Epicurus on, 358, 361; + distinguished from pleasure, 221. +Heavenly bodies, The; + Anaximander on, 26; + Pythagoreans on, 38; + Xenophanes on, 43; + Anaxagoras on, 103; + Plato on, 211; + Aristotle on, 305-6. +Heliocentric hypothesis, 38. +Hinduism, 71, 197, 308, 312-13. + + +I + +Idealism; + of Parmenides, 47 et seq; + essentials of, 48, 49, 235; + Plato as founder of, 235. +Ideas, + Theory of, 174, 183-207; + Aristotle on, 262-5. +Imagination, 300. +Immortality; + Atomists on, 92; + Plato on, 175, 212; + Aristotle on, 302-3; + Epicurus on, 357. +Indian Thought, 14-16; see also Hinduism. +Individualism, 323. +Induction, 144, 146, 190, 206, 260. +Infinite divisibility; + Zeno on, 56; + Anaxagoras on, 96; + Aristotle on, 292-3; + Hume on, 57-8; + Kant on, 57; + Hegel on, 58-60. +Inorganic matter, 294-6. +Insight, moral, 318. +Intuition, 153, 375, 377. +Irony, of Socrates, 130. + +J + +Judaism, 71. +Justice; + Pythagoreans on, 37; + Plato on, 224; + Aristotle on, 319-20. + +{380} + +K + +Knowledge; + of the Infinite, 7-8; + of the Absolute, 299; + through concepts, 146, 182; + Plato on, 177-82; + as recollection, 212-17; + necessary knowledge, 213-15. + + +L + +Life; Aristotle's doctrine of, 296. +Limit, The, 36. +Love, Platonic, 204-6. + + +M + +Marriage, 224. +Material cause, 268. +Materialism; + origin of, 9-11; + of Ionics, 23; + defect of, 66. +Matter; + indestructibility of, 50; + Platonic, 208; + Aristotle's doctrine of, 275-9; + Plotinus on, 375. +Mechanical theories, 88. +Memory, 300. +Monarchy, 324. +Monism, 62-7. +Monstrosities,29l. +Morality; + founded on reason, 118. +Motion; + Zeno on, 54; + Aristotle on, 29l. +Multiplicity; + Zeno on, 53. +Mysticism, 12, 171, 371, 372, 374, 376. +Myths, of Plato, 170-71, 208, 209, 210, 211. + +N + +Necessary Knowledge, 213-15; + necessary concepts, 242. +Non-sensuous thought, 8-13. +Not-being, 44, 75, 76, 77, 89, 191, 208, 279, 280. +Nous; + of Anaxagoras, 97-105; + of Plotinus, 375. +Numbers, as first principle, 36. + +O + +Object, the right of the, 122. +Objectivity; + defined, 113; + of concepts, 183. +Oligarchy, 324. +Opinion, 181-2. +Organic matter, organism, 294-6. + +P + +Pantheism, 312. +Participation, 194, 236. +Personality, 286. +Pleasure, 161-2, 218-19, 350, 358; + distinguished from happiness, 221. +Potentiality, 279. +Pragmatism, 121. +Protestantism, 123. + +Q + +Quality, mechanical explanation of, 87-8. + +R + +Rarefaction, 28. +Reality; + distinguished from appearance, 61; + distinguished from existence, 60-1, 246-7. +Reason; + distinguished from sense, 45, 79, 112, 113, 115, 239, 290; + distinguished from cause, 64, 76; + as universal, 113; + as concepts, 144; + supremacy of, 153-4; + as basis of love, 205-6; + as Absolute, 240-1; + passive and active, 300; + as basis of morals, 118, 317, 349-50. + +{381} + +Recollection; + knowledge as, 212-17; + Aristotle on, 300. +Reincarnation; see Transmigration. +Religion; + relation to philosophy, 14-15, 207; + Xenophanes on, 41-2; + Heracleitus on, 79; + Democritus on, 92; + decay of Greek, 107-8. + +Rhetoric, 111, 122. + +S + +Scepticism, 343, 361. +Sensation; + particularism of, 113; + distinguished from reason, 45, 79, 112, 113, 115, 239, 290. +Slavery, 225, 321. +Soul; + Heracleitus on, 78-9; + Atomists on, 92; + Plato on, 211-17; + Aristotle on, 296 et seq; + Stoics on, 348; + Epicureans on, 357. +Space, 3-4, 56; see also Empty space. +Sphere, of Empedocles, 84. +State, The; + Sophists on, 119; + Plato's, 201-2, 225-29; + Aristotle on, 320-5. +Subject, the right of the, 122, 152. +Subjectivism, Preface, 340-3, 361, 376. +Subjectivity, defined, 113. +Substance; + defined, 186-7; + Ideas as, 186-8; + Aristotle's doctrine of 265-7. +Suicide, 160, 350. +_Summum Bonum_, 222, 314. +Symbolism, 12. + + +T + +Teleology; + defined,101; + of Anaxagoras, 104, 105; + of Plato, 201-2; + of Aristotle, 289. +Theosophists, 153-4. +Time, 282, 292. +Timocracy, 324. +Tragedy, 330-1. +Transmigration, 17, 32, 85, 212, 217, 301. +Tyranny, 324. + + +U + +Universals, 188. +Utilitarianism, 220-21, 315. + +V + +Virtue; + as knowledge, 147, 157; + teachable, 149; + unity of, 149, 223, 351; + as sole good, 159-60, 350; + relation to pleasure, 161, 218-19; + customary and philosophic, 220; + dianoetic, 316, 317; + as the mean, 317. +Void, The, 90. +Vortex, 90, 102. + + +W + +Water, as first principle, 21. +Wise Man, The; + of the Cynics, 160; + of the Cyrenaics, 162; + of the Stoics, 351. +Women, status of, 224. +World-Soul, The, 210, 211, 375. + + +{382} + +INDEX OF NAMES + +A + +Abdera, 86, 112. +Academy, The, 167, 249, 250; + The New, 364-6. +Aegean, The, 18. +Aenesidemus, 366-7. +AEsculapius, 141. +Agrigentum, 81. +Alcibiades, 132, 133. +Alexander the Great, 251, 252, 339, 340, 362. +Alexandria, 368, 370. +Ammonius Saccas, 372. +Amyntas, 249. +Anaxagoras, 22, 30, 82, 86, 91, 94-105, 106, 120, 137, 166, + 271, 272, 273, 340 +Anaximander, 20, 22, 23, 24-7, 28, 29. +Anaximenes, 20, 22, 23, 27-30, 82, 83, 102, 271. +Andronicus, 262. +Anniceris, 162, 167. +Antiochis, 134. +Antisthenes, 156, 158, 159. +Anytus, 133. +Appolonia, 30. +Apollodorus, 140. +_Apology, The_, 129, 133, 134, 172, 173. +Arcesilaus, 364, 365. +Arginusae, 134. +Aristippus, 156, 161, 358. +Aristophanes, 135, 152. +Aristotle, 14, 17, 18, 19,23, 38, 42 (footnote), 55, 95, 98, 99, + 106, 122, 148, 150, 191, 193, 231, 233, 248, 249-338, + 339, 340, 341, 342, 345, 346, 350, 370; + on Thales, 21-2; + on Anaxagoras, 104, 105; + on Socrates, 147,317,320; + on Plato, 193, 262-5, 323-4. + +Asia Minor, 18, 20, 72, 94, 95, 250. +Assyria, 13. +Atarneus, 250. +Athens, 94, 95, 112, 127, 128, 129, 131, 133, 134, 135, 136, + 137, 165, 166, 167, 169, 249, 250, 251, 252, 254, 344. +Atomists, The, 82, 86-93, 95, 96, 97, 103, 104. +Aurelius, Marcus, 14, 344. + + +B + +Babylon, 252. +Babylonia, 86. +Bacon, Francis, 257-8. +_Banquet, The_, 132. See also _Symposium, The_. +Bentham, 220. +_Bhagavat Gita, The,_ 15. +Brahman, 15, 64, 170, 197. +Buddha, The, 213. +Burnet Prof., Preface, 25, 28, 46, 91, 98. + +{383} + + +C + +Carneades, 365. +Chairephon, 129. +Chalcis, 252. +_Charmides, The_, 172, 173. +China, 13. +Christianity, 69, 70, 71, 101, 369, 377. +Chrysippus, 344. +Cicero, 366. +Clazomenae, 94. +Cleanthes, 344. +_Clouds, The_, of Aristophanes, 135. +Coleridge, S. T., 263. +Colophon, 41. +Copernicus, 38. +Crates, 344. +Cratylus, 166. +Critias, 118. +Crito, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141. +_Crito, The_, 172, 173. +Croesus, 20, 21. +Crotona, 31, 33. +Cynics, The, 156, 158-60, 163, 316, 342, 351, 353, 358. +Cyprus, 344. +Cyrenaics, The, 156, 160-2, 163, 218, 342, 358. +Cyrene, 167. + + +D + +Darwin, 308. +Delium, 131. +Delphi, 129. +Democritus, 22, 49, 50, 52, 86, 93, 104, 108, 112, 234, 342, + 354, 356. +Diogenes of Apollonia, 30. +Diogenes the Cynic, 159, 351, 352. +Dionysius the Elder, 167, 168. +Dionysius the Younger, 168, 169. + + +E + +Echechrates, 139, 141. +Egypt, 13, 16, 17, 31, 86, 125, 167, 372. +Elea, 40, 41, 43, 52, 60. +Eleatics, The, 22, 23, 40-71, 72, 73, 75, 79, 89, 109, 112, 117, + 162, 164, 166, 173, 174, 175, 193, 195, 196, 197, + 234, 235, 246, 272, 279, 374. +Eleusinian mysteries, 72. +Empedocles, 17, 22, 49, 52, 81-5, 86, 87-8, 89, 95, 96, + 97, 103, 271, 272, 329. +Empiricus, Sextus, 366. +England, 121. +Ephesus, 72, 73. +Epictetus, 14, 344. +Epicureans, The, 89, 90, 91, 342, 343, 354-60, 362, 368, 369. +Epicurus, 342, 345-60. +Erdmann, 46, 98, 368, 375. +_Ethics, The_, of Aristotle, 319. +Euboea, 252. +Euclid, the geometrician, 33, 113. +Euclid of Megara, 156, 162-3, 166, 167. +Euripides, 94. +_Euthyphro, The_, 172. + + +F + +France, 121. + + +G + +Gorgias, 110, 111, 116-18, 361. +_Gorgias, The_, 174, 177. +Grant, Sir A., 295 (footnote). +Greece, 13, 16, 17, 18, 33, 41, 107, 109, 112, 122, 168, 220, + 252, 339, 344, 368. +Grote, 98. + + +{384} + +H + +Halys, 21. +Hegel, 38, 46, 55, 58-60, 312 (footnote), 333. +Hegesias, 162. +Hellas, 41. +Heracleitus, 22, 72-80, 82, 86, 108, 112, 116, 164, 166, 192, + 193, 234, 271, 333, 342, 347. +Hermeias, 250. +Herpyllis, 251. +Hesiod, 41, 72, 77. +Hippias, 110. +_Hippias Minor, The_, 172. +Hippo, 30. +Homer, 41, 72. +Hume, David, 57, 58, 361. +Hylicists, The, 24. + + +I + +Iamblicus, 376. +Idaeus, 30. +India, 14, 16, 17. +Ionia, 20, 41, 137. +Ionics, The, 20-30, 61, 62, 82, 83, 271, 272. +Islam, 71. +Italy, 18, 31, 40, 167. + + +J + +Japan, 125. ++Jatakas, The+, 213. +Judaea, 370. + + +K + +Kant, 55, 57, 213, 215. +Kepler, 65. +Krishna, 15. + + +L + +_Laches, The_, 172, 173. +Lampsacus, 95. +Leon, 134-5. +Leucippus, 86, 88, 89, 91, 104. +London, 189. +Lucretius, 14. +Lyceum, The, 251. +Lycon, 133. +Lycopolis, 372. +_Lysis, The_, 172, 173. + + +M + +Macedonia, 249, 252, 339. +Macran, H. S., 312 (footnote). +Megara, 166, 167, 172, 173. +Megarics, The, 156, 162-3. +Melissus, 46. +Melitus, 133. +_Memorabilia, The_, 142. +_Meno, The_, 216. +Meru, 15, 16. +_Metaphysics, The_, of Aristotle, 19, 42, 105, 253, 254, 261, 271. +Metchnikoff, 76. +Miletus, 20, 24, 27. +Mill, J. S., 220, 221, 269. +Milton, 330. +Moses, 370. +Mytilene, 251. + + +N + +Napoleon, 252. +Neo-Platonists, The, 342, 343, 368, 369, 372-377. +Newton, 65. +Nichomachus, 249, 251 +Nietzsche, 156. + + +O + +Orphics, The, 17, 32. + + +P + +Paramatman, 15. +Parmenides, 13,40,41, 42, 43, 52, 53, 57, 72, 81, 82, 86, 117, + 162, 163, 164, 167, 234. +_Parmenides, The_, 169, 175, 176, 177, 195, 244. +Peloponnese, The, 103. + +{385} + +Peloponnesian War, The, 131, 165. +Pericles, 94, 95, 137. +Peripatetics, The, 251, 369. +Persians, The, 251. +_Phaedo, The_, 137, 175, 177. +_Phaedrus, The_, 172, 175, 177. +_Philebus, The_, 175, 203. +Philip of Macedonia, 251. +Philo the Jew, 370-1. +Philolaus, 37. +Phlius, 262. +Plato, 1, 13, 17, 19, 23, 38, 50, 51, 52, 55, 95, 99, 101, 104, + 106, 122, 129, 132, 133, 137, 141, 142, 150, 156, 164-248, + 249, 250, 253, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 262-5, 267, 269, + 271, 272, 273, 275, 281, 282, 286, 287, 288, 290, 291, 298, + 299, 301, 303, 304, 314, 319, 321, 323, 324, 325, 327, 329, + 331, 332, 334, 335, 336, 338, 341, 342, 345, 346, 350, 364, + 370, 372, 374, 375. +Plotinus, 368, 372-6. +Porphyry, 376. +Proclus, 376. +_Poetics, The_, of Aristotle, 326. +Polus, 118-9. +Polemo, 344. +Prodicus, 110, 121. +Protagoras, 110, 112-6, 118, 121, 153, 154, 161, 178, 179, + 181, 217, 361. +_Protagoras, The_, 172. +Proxenus, 249. +Pyrrho, 343, 362-4, 365, 366. +Pythagoras, 31, 32, 33, 34, 72, 81, 301. +Pythagoreans, The, 17, 22, 31-9, 43, 44, 61, 62, 109, 164, + 167, 169, 191, 209, 217, 272, 291, 370. +Pythias, 251. + + +R + +_Republic, The_, Preface, 168, 175, 177, 201-2, 225-9, 230, 231. +Rome, 14, 344, 372. +Rotunda, The, 134, 135. + + +S + +Salamis, 134, 135. +Satan, Milton's, 330. +Sceptics, The, 7 (footnote), 342, 361-7, 368, 376. +Schopenhauer,72. +Schwegler, 46, 353. +Seneca, 14, 344. +Seven Sages, The, 21. +Shaw, Bernard, 126, 156. +Sicily, 18, 81, 112, 176, 168. +Simplicius, 366. +Socrates, 18, 19, 51, 73, 95, 110, 122, 127-54, 155, 156, 157, + 158, 159, 160, 161, 163, 164, 166, 167, 168, 169, 172, + 173, 182, 183, 193, 223, 234, 252, 317, 320, 351, 352. +Solon, 20. +_Sophist, The_, 175, 176, 177, 195. +Sophists, The, 18, 19, 24, 106-26, 127, 128, 135, 142, 144, + 145, 150, 151, 152, 153, 161, 166, 174, 178, + 182, 185, 218, 219, 221, 234, 343, 361. +Sparta, 339. +Spencer, Herbert, 2, 308-12. +Speusippus, 250. +Spinoza, 66, 71, 197. +Stagirus, 249. +_Statesman, The_, 175, 176. +Stilpo, 344. +Stoa, The, 344. +Stoics, The, 341, 342, 343, 344-53, 358, 359, 362, 365, 366, + 368, 369, 370. +Swinburne, A. C., 357. + +{386} + +_Symposium, The_, 175, 205-6, 231. See also _Banquet, The_. +Syracuse, 42, 167, 168, 169. +Syrianus, 376. + + +T + +Thales 20-4, 27, 28, 29, 30, 36, 44, 82, 120, 271, 368. +Thebes, 252. +Thessaly, 137. +Thirty Tyrants, The, 134, 165. +Thrace, 86, 249. +Thrasymachus, 118-9. +_Timaeus, The_, 38, 171, 175, 177, 190, 208, 210. +Timon of Phlius, 362. +Tolstoi, 230. + + +U + +_Upanishads, The_, 14, 15, 170, 371. + + +W + +Wallace, 38 (footnote). +Wells, H. G., Preface. +Wilde, Oscar, 126, 156. + + +X + +Xenocrates, 250, 251. +Xenophanes, 40-3, 72, 79, 108, 340. +Xenophon, 132, 141, 142. + + +Z + +Zeller, 98, 101, 176, 202, 209, 224. +Zeno the Eleatic, 40, 52-60, 72, 117, 163, 246, 292. +Zeno the Stoic, 344, 354. +Zeus, 360. + + + +GLASGOW: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS +BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD. + + +{387} + +NEW WORKS ON PHILOSOPHY + + +THE IDEA OF PROGRESS: An Inquiry into its +Origin and Growth. By Professor J. B. BURY, +D. Litt. 8vo. + + +MIND-ENERGY. 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