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diff --git a/41412-0.txt b/41412-0.txt index bdffe30..c74fbdb 100644 --- a/41412-0.txt +++ b/41412-0.txt @@ -1,38 +1,4 @@ -Project Gutenberg's A History of Philosophy in Epitome, by Albert Schwegler - -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 History of Philosophy in Epitome - -Author: Albert Schwegler - -Translator: Julius H. 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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 History of Philosophy in Epitome - -Author: Albert Schwegler - -Translator: Julius H. Seelye - -Release Date: November 19, 2012 [EBook #41412] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY IN EPITOME *** - - - - -Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Turgut Dincer and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of -public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital -Libraries.) - - - - - - - +---------------------------------------------------+ - | Transcriber's note: | - | | - | The letters A and B with the plus sign at the top | - | are shown as [+A] and [+B] | - +---------------------------------------------------+ - - - A - - HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY - - IN EPITOME, - - BY - - DR. ALBERT SCHWEGLER. - - _TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL GERMAN_, - - BY - - JULIUS H. SEELYE. - - THIRD EDITION. - - NEW YORK: - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, - 443 & 445 BROADWAY. - LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN. - 1864. - - -ENTERED, according to act of Congress, in the year 1856, - -BY JULIUS H. SEELYE, - -In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the -Northern District of New York. - -INTRODUCTORY NOTE - -BY HENRY B. SMITH, D. D. - - -The History of Philosophy, by Dr. Albert Schwegler, is considered in -Germany as the best concise manual upon the subject from the school of -Hegel. Its account of the Greek and of the German systems, is of -especial value and importance. It presents the whole history of -speculation in its consecutive order. Though following the method of -Hegel's more extended lectures upon the progress of philosophy, and -though it makes the system of Hegel to be the ripest product of -philosophy, yet it also rests upon independent investigations. It will -well reward diligent study, and is one of the best works for a text-book -in our colleges, upon this neglected branch of scientific investigation. -The translation is made by a competent person, and gives, I doubt not, a -faithful rendering of the original. - - - HENRY B. SMITH. - - UNION THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, NEW YORK, _Nov. 6, 1855_. - - -TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. - - -Schwegler's History of Philosophy originally appeared in the "_Neue -Encyklopädie für Wissenschaften und Künste_." Its great value soon -awakened a call for its separate issue, in which form it has attained a -very wide circulation in Germany. It is found in the hands of almost -every student in the philosophical department of a German university, -and is highly esteemed for its clearness, conciseness, and -comprehensiveness. - -The present translation was commenced in Germany three years ago, and -has been carefully finished. It was undertaken with the conviction that -the work would not lose its interest or its value in an English dress, -and with the hope that it might be of wider service in such a form to -students of philosophy here. It was thought especially, that a proper -translation of this manual would supply a want for a suitable text-book -on this branch of study, long felt by both teachers and students in our -American colleges. - -The effort has been made to translate, and not to paraphrase the -author's meaning. Many of his statements might have been amplified -without diffuseness, and made more perceptible to the superficial reader -without losing their interest to the more profound student, but he has -so happily seized upon the germs of the different systems, that they -neither need, nor would be improved by any farther development, and has, -moreover, presented them so clearly, that no student need have any -difficulty in apprehending them as they are. The translator has -therefore endeavored to represent faithfully and clearly the original -history. As such, he offers his work to the American public, indulging -no hope, and making no efforts for its success beyond that which its own -merits shall ensure. - - - J. H. S. - - SCHENECTADY, N. Y., _January, 1856_. - - -CONTENTS. - - PAGE - - INTRODUCTORY NOTE, by HENRY B. SMITH, D. D. iii - - TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE v - - TABLE OF CONTENTS vii - - SECTION I.--WHAT IS MEANT BY THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY 11 - - II.--CLASSIFICATION 16 - - III.--GENERAL VIEW OF THE PRE-SOCRATIC PHILOSOPHY 17 - 1. The Ionics 17 - 2. The Pythagoreans 18 - 3. The Eleatics 18 - 4. Heraclitus 18 - 5. The Atomists 19 - 6. Anaxagoras 19 - 7. The Sophists 20 - - IV.--THE IONIC PHILOSOPHERS 21 - 1. Thales 21 - 2. Anaximander 22 - 3. Anaximenes 23 - 4. Retrospect 23 - - V.--PYTHAGOREANISM 23 - 1. Its Relative Position 23 - 2. Historical and Chronological 23 - 3. The Pythagorean Principle 24 - 4. Carrying out of this Principle 25 - - VI.--THE ELEATICS 27 - 1. The Relation of the Eleatic Principle - to the Pythagorean 27 - 2. Xenophanes 28 - 3. Parmenides 28 - 4. Zeno 30 - - VII.--HERACLITUS 31 - 1. Relation of the Heraclitic Principle - to the Eleatic 31 - 2. Historical and Chronological 32 - 3. The Principle of the Becoming 32 - 4. The Principle of Fire 33 - 5. Transition to the Atomists 33 - - VIII.--EMPEDOCLES 35 - 1. General View 35 - 2. The Four Elements 35 - 3. The Two Powers 36 - 4. Relation of the Empedoclean to the Eleatic - and Heraclitic Philosophy 36 - - IX.--THE ATOMISTIC PHILOSOPHY 37 - 1. Its Propounders 37 - 2. The Atoms 37 - 3. The Fulness and the Void 38 - 4. The Atomistic Necessity 38 - 5. Relative Position of the Atomistic Philosophy 39 - - X.--ANAXAGORAS 40 - 1. His Personal History 40 - 2. His Relation to his Predecessors 41 - 3. The Principle of the [Greek: nous] 41 - 4. Anaxagoras as the close of the Pre-Socratic - Realism 42 - - XI.--THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY 43 - 1. The Relation of the Sophistic Philosophy to - the Anaxagorean Principle 43 - 2. Relation of the Sophistic Philosophy to the - Universal Life of that Age 44 - 3. Tendencies of the Sophistic Philosophy 46 - 4. Significance of the Sophistic Philosophy from - its relation to the Culture of the Age 47 - 5. Individual Sophists 48 - 6. Transition to Socrates, and characteristic - of the following Period 51 - - XII.--SOCRATES 52 - 1. His Personal Character 52 - 2. Socrates and Aristophanes 55 - 3. The Condemnation of Socrates 57 - 4. The Genius of Socrates 60 - 5. Sources of the Philosophy of Socrates 61 - 6. Universal Character of the Philosophizing - of Socrates 62 - 7. The Socratic Method 64 - 8. The Socratic Doctrine concerning Virtue 66 - - XIII.--THE PARTIAL DISCIPLES OF SOCRATES 67 - 1. Their Relation to the Socratic Philosophy 67 - 2. Antisthenes and the Cynics 68 - 3. Aristippus and the Cyrenians 69 - 4. Euclid and the Megarians 70 - 5. Plato as the complete Socraticist 71 - - XIV.--PLATO 72 - I. PLATO'S LIFE 72 - 1. His Youth 72 - 2. His Years of Discipline 73 - 3. His Years of Travel 73 - 4. His Years of Instruction 74 - - II. THE INNER DEVELOPMENT OF THE PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY - AND WRITINGS 75 - - III. CLASSIFICATION OF THE PLATONIC SYSTEM 82 - - IV. THE PLATONIC DIALECTICS 83 - 1. Conception of Dialectics 83 - 2. What is Science? 84 - (1.) As opposed to Sensation 84 - (2.) The Relation of Knowing to Opinion 86 - (3.) The Relation of Science to Thinking 86 - 3. The Doctrine of Ideas in its Genesis 87 - 4. Positive Exposition of the Doctrine of Ideas 91 - 5. The Relation of Ideas to the Phenomenal World 93 - 6. The Idea of the Good and the Deity 95 - - V. THE PLATONIC PHYSICS 96 - 1. Nature 96 - 2. The Soul 98 - - VI. THE PLATONIC ETHICS 100 - 1. Good and Pleasure 100 - 2. Virtue 102 - 3. The State 102 - - XV.--THE OLD ACADEMY 107 - - XVI.--ARISTOTLE 108 - I. LIFE AND WRITINGS OF ARISTOTLE 108 - II. UNIVERSAL CHARACTER AND DIVISION OF THE - ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY 109 - III. LOGIC AND METAPHYSICS 112 - 1. Conception and Relation of the Two 112 - 2. Logic 113 - 3. Metaphysics 115 - (1.) The Aristotelian Criticism of - the Platonic Doctrine of Ideas 116 - (2.) The Four Aristotelian Principles, - or Causes, and the Relation - of Form and Matter 120 - (3.) Potentiality and Actuality 123 - (4.) The Absolute Divine Spirit 124 - IV. THE ARISTOTELIAN PHYSICS 127 - 1. Motion, Matter, Space, and Time 127 - 2. The Collective Universe 128 - 3. Nature 129 - 4. Man 129 - V. THE ARISTOTELIAN ETHICS 131 - 1. Relation of Ethics to Physics 131 - 2. The Highest Good 132 - 3. Conception of Virtue 134 - 4. The State 135 - VI. THE PERIPATETIC SCHOOL 136 - VII. TRANSITION TO THE POST-ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY 137 - - XVII.--STOICISM 138 - 1. Logic 139 - 2. Physics 140 - 3. Ethics 142 - (1.) Respecting the Relation of Virtue - to Pleasure 142 - (2.) The View of the Stoics concerning - External Good 142 - (3.) Farther Verification of this View 143 - (4.) Impossibility of furnishing a System - of Concrete Moral Duties from this - Standpoint 143 - - XVIII.-EPICUREANISM 145 - - XIX.--SCEPTICISM AND THE NEW ACADEMY 148 - 1. The Old Scepticism 149 - 2. The New Academy 150 - 3. The Later Scepticism 151 - - XX.--THE ROMANS 152 - - XXI.--NEW PLATONISM 154 - 1. Ecstasy as a Subjective State 154 - 2. The Cosmical Principles 154 - 3. The Emanation Theory of the New Platonists 155 - - XXII.--CHRISTIANITY AND SCHOLASTICISM 157 - 1. The Christian Idea 157 - 2. Scholasticism 159 - 3. Nominalism and Realism 160 - - XXIII.--TRANSITION TO THE MODERN PHILOSOPHY 161 - 1. Fall of Scholasticism 161 - 2. The Results of Scholasticism 162 - 3. The Revival of Letters 163 - 4. The German Reformation 164 - 5. The Advancement of the Natural Sciences 165 - 6. Bacon of Verulam 166 - 7. The Italian Philosophers of the Transition Epoch 167 - 8. Jacob Boehme 169 - - XXIV.--DESCARTES 172 - 1. The Beginning of Philosophy with Doubt 173 - 2. Cogito ergo sum 173 - 3. The Nature of Mind deduced from this Principle 173 - 4. The Universal Rule of all Certainty follows from - the same 174 - 5. The Existence of God 174 - 6. Results of this Fact in Philosophy 176 - 7. The Two Substances 177 - 8. The Anthropology of Descartes 177 - 9. Results of the Cartesian System 178 - - XXV.--GEULINCX AND MALEBRANCHE 180 - 1. Geulincx 180 - 2. Malebranche 182 - 3. The Defects of the Philosophy of Descartes 183 - - XXVI.--SPINOZA 184 - 1. The One Infinite Substance 185 - 2. The Two Attributes 186 - 3. The Modes 188 - 4. His Practical Philosophy 189 - - XXVII.--IDEALISM AND REALISM 192 - - XXVIII.--LOCKE 193 - - XXIX.--HUME 198 - - XXX.--CONDILLAC 201 - - XXXI.--HELVETIUS 203 - - XXXII.-THE FRENCH CLEARING UP AND MATERIALISM 205 - 1. The Common Character of the French Philosophers - of this Age 205 - 2. Voltaire 206 - 3. Diderot 206 - 4. La Mettrie's Materialism 207 - 5. Système de la Nature 208 - (1.) The Materiality of Man 208 - (2.) The Atheism of this System 209 - (3.) Its Denial of Freedom and Immortality 210 - (4.) The Practical Consequences of these - Principles 210 - - XXXIII.--LEIBNITZ 211 - 1. The Doctrine of Monads 213 - 2. The Monads more accurately determined 214 - 3. The Pre-established Harmony 215 - 4. The Relation of the Deity to the Monads 216 - 5. The Relation of Soul and Body 217 - 6. The Theory of Knowledge 218 - 7. Leibnitz's Théodicée 219 - - XXXIV.--BERKELEY 220 - - XXXV.--WOLFF 222 - 1. Ontology 224 - 2. Cosmology 225 - 3. Rational Psychology 225 - 4. Natural Theology 226 - - XXXVI.--THE GERMAN CLEARING UP 227 - - XXXVII.--TRANSITION TO KANT 229 - 1. Examination of the Faculty of Knowledge 230 - 2. Three Chief Principles of the Kantian Theory - of Knowledge 232 - - XXXVIII.--KANT 235 - I. CRITICK OF PURE REASON 238 - 1. The Transcendental Æsthetics 238 - (1.) The Metaphysical Discussion 239 - (2.) The Transcendental Discussion 239 - 2. The Transcendental Analytic 241 - 3. The Transcendental Dialectics 246 - (1.) The Psychological Ideas 247 - (2.) The Antinomies of Cosmology 248 - (3.) The Ideal of the Pure Reason 249 - (_a._) The Ontological Proof 249 - (_b._) The Cosmological Proof 250 - (_c._) The Physico-Theological - Proof 250 - II. CRITICK OF THE PRACTICAL REASON 252 - (1.) The Analytic 254 - (2.) The Dialectic: What is this Highest - Good? 256 - (_a._) Perfect Virtue or Holiness 257 - (_b._) Perfect Happiness 258 - (_c._) Kant's Views of Religion 259 - III. CRITICK OF THE FACULTY OF JUDGMENT 262 - 1. Critick of the Æsthetic Faculty of Judgment 263 - (1.) Analytic 263 - (2.) Dialectic 265 - 2. Critick of the Teleological Faculty - of Judgment 266 - (1.) Analytic of the Teleological Faculty - of Judgment 267 - (2.) Dialectic 267 - - XXXIX.--TRANSITION TO THE POST-KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY 268 - - XL.--JACOBI 271 - - XLI.--FICHTE 279 - I. THE FICHTIAN PHILOSOPHY IN ITS ORIGINAL FORM 282 - 1. The Theoretical Philosophy of Fichte, - his Wissenschaftslehre, or Theory - of Science 282 - 2. Fichte's Practical Philosophy 295 - II. THE LATER FORM OF FICHTE'S PHILOSOPHY 301 - - XLII.--HERBART 303 - 1. The Basis and Starting Point of Philosophy 304 - 2. The First Act of Philosophy 304 - 3. Remodelling the Conceptions of Experience 305 - 4. Herbart's Reals 306 - 5. Psychology connected with Metaphysics 310 - 6. The Importance of Herbart's Philosophy 311 - - XLIII.--SCHELLING 312 - I. FIRST PERIOD: SCHELLING'S PROCESSION FROM FICHTE 314 - II. SECOND PERIOD: STANDPOINT OF THE DISTINGUISHING - BETWEEN THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE AND OF MIND 318 - 1. Natural Philosophy 318 - (1.) Organic Nature 319 - (2.) Inorganic Nature 321 - (3.) The Reciprocal Determination of the - Organic and Inorganic World 321 - 2. Transcendental Philosophy 322 - (1.) The Theoretical Philosophy 323 - (2.) The Practical Philosophy 324 - (3.) Philosophy of Art 324 - III. THIRD PERIOD: PERIOD OF SPINOZISM, OR THE - INDIFFERENCE OF THE IDEAL AND THE REAL 326 - IV. FOURTH PERIOD: THE DIRECTION OF SCHELLING'S - PHILOSOPHY AS MYSTICAL, AND ALLIED TO NEW - PLATONISM 333 - V. FIFTH PERIOD: ATTEMPT AT A THEOGONY AND COSMOGONY, - AFTER THE MANNER OF JACOB BOEHME 335 - (1.) The Progressive Development of Nature - to Man 337 - (2.) The Development of Mind in History 337 - VI. SIXTH PERIOD 338 - - XLIV.--TRANSITION TO HEGEL 339 - - XLV.--HEGEL 343 - I. SCIENCE OF LOGIC 346 - 1. The Doctrine of Being 347 - (1.) Quality 347 - (2.) Quantity 348 - (3.) Measure 348 - 2. The Doctrine of Essence 349 - (1.) The Essence as such 349 - (2.) Essence and Phenomenon 350 - (3.) Actuality 351 - 3. The Doctrine of the Conception 352 - (1.) The Subjective Conception 352 - (2.) Objectivity 353 - (3.) The Idea 353 - II. THE SCIENCE OF NATURE 353 - 1. Mechanics 354 - 2. Physics 355 - 3. Organics 355 - (1.) Geological Organism 355 - (2.) Vegetable Organism 355 - (3.) Animal Organism 356 - III. PHILOSOPHY OF MIND 356 - 1. The Subjective Mind 356 - 2. The Objective Mind 358 - 3. The Absolute Mind 362 - (1.) Æsthetics 363 - (_a._) Architecture 363 - (_b._) Sculpture 363 - (_c._) Painting 364 - (_d._) Music 364 - (_e._) Poetry 364 - (2.) Philosophy of Religion 364 - (_a._) The Natural Religion of the - Oriental World 364 - (_b._) The Religion of Mental - Individuality 364 - (_c._) Revealed, or the Christian - Religion 365 - (3.) Absolute Philosophy 365 - - -A - -HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. - - - - -SECTION I. - -WHAT IS MEANT BY THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. - - -To philosophize is to reflect; to examine things, in thought. - -Yet in this is the conception of philosophy not sufficiently defined. -Man, as thinking, also employs those practical activities concerned in -the adaptation of means to an end; the whole body of sciences also, even -those which do not in strict sense belong to philosophy, still lie in -the realm of thought. In what, then, is philosophy distinguished from -these sciences, _e. g._ from the science of astronomy, of medicine, or -of rights? Certainly not in that it has a different material to work -upon. Its material is precisely the same as that of the different -empirical sciences. The construction and disposition of the universe, -the arrangement and functions of the human body, the doctrines of -property, of rights and of the state--all these materials belong as truly -to philosophy as to their appropriate sciences. That which is given in -the world of experience, that which is real, is the content likewise of -philosophy. It is not, therefore, in its material but in its form, in -its method, in its mode of knowledge, that philosophy is to be -distinguished from the empirical sciences. These latter derive their -material directly from experience; they find it at hand and take it up -just as they find it. Philosophy, on the other hand, is never satisfied -with receiving that which is given simply as it is given, but rather -follows it out to its ultimate grounds; it examines every individual -thing in reference to a final principle, and considers it as one link in -the whole chain of knowledge. In this way philosophy removes from the -individual thing given in experience, its immediate, individual, and -accidental character; from the sea of empirical individualities, it -brings out that which is common to all; from the infinite and orderless -mass of contingencies it finds that which is necessary, and throws over -all a universal law. In short, philosophy examines the _totality_ of -experience in the form of an _organic system_ in harmony with the laws -of thought. From the above it is seen, that philosophy (in the sense we -have given it) and the empirical sciences have a reciprocal influence; -the latter conditioning the former, while they at the same time are -conditioned by it. We shall, therefore, in the history of the world, no -more find an absolute and complete philosophy, than a complete empirical -science (_Empirik_). Rather is philosophy found only in the form of the -different philosophical systems, which have successively appeared in the -course of history, advancing hand in hand with the progress of the -empirical sciences and the universal, social, and civil culture, and -showing in their advance the different steps in the development and -improvement of human science. The history of philosophy has, for its -object, to represent the content, the succession, and the inner -connection of these philosophical systems. - -The relation of these different systems to each other is thus already -intimated. The historical and collective life of the race is bound -together by the idea of a spiritual and intellectual progress, and -manifests a regular order of advancing, though not always continuous, -stages of development. In this, the fact harmonizes with what we should -expect from antecedent probabilities. Since, therefore, every -philosophical system is only the philosophical expression of the -collective life of its time, it follows that these different systems -which have appeared in history will disclose one organic movement and -form together one rational and internally connected (_gegliedertes_) -system. In all their developments, we shall find one constant order, -grounded in the striving of the spirit ever to raise itself to a higher -point of consciousness and knowledge, and to recognize the whole -spiritual and natural universe, more and more, as its outward being, as -its reality, as the mirror of itself. - -_Hegel_ was the first to utter these thoughts and to consider the -history of philosophy as a united process, but this view, which is, in -its principle, true, he has applied in a way which would destroy the -freedom of human actions, and remove the very conception of contingency, -_i. e._ that any thing should be contrary to reason. Hegel's view is, -that the succession of the systems of philosophy which have appeared in -history, corresponds to the succession of logical categories in a system -of logic. According to him, if, from the fundamental conceptions of -these different philosophical systems, we remove that which pertains to -their outward form or particular application, &c., so do we find the -different steps of the logical conceptions (_e. g._ being, becoming, -existence, being _per se_ (_fürsichseyn_) quantity, &c.). And on the -other hand, if we take up the logical process by itself, we find also in -it the actual historical process. - -This opinion, however, can be sustained neither in its principle nor in -its historical application. It is defective in its principle, because in -history freedom and necessity interpenetrate, and, therefore, while we -find, if we consider it in its general aspects, a rational connection -running through the whole, we also see, if we look solely at its -individual parts, only a play of numberless contingencies, just as the -kingdom of nature, taken as a whole, reveals a rational plan in its -successions, but viewed only in its parts, mocks at every attempt to -reduce them to a preconceived plan. In history we have to do with free -subjectivities, with individuals capable of originating actions, and -have, therefore, a factor which does not admit of a previous -calculation. For however accurately we may estimate the controlling -conditions which may attach to an individual, from the general -circumstances in which he may be placed, his age, his associations, his -nationality, &c., a free will can never be calculated like a -mathematical problem. History is no example for a strict arithmetical -calculation. The history of philosophy, therefore, cannot admit of an -apriori construction; the actual occurrences should not be joined -together as illustrative of a preconceived plan; but the facts, so far -as they can be admitted, after a critical sifting, should be received as -such, and their rational connection be analytically determined. The -speculative idea can only supply the law for the arrangement and -scientific connection of that which may be historically furnished. - -A more comprehensive view, which contradicts the above-given Hegelian -notion, is the following. The actual historical development is, very -generally, different from the theoretical. Historically _e. g._ the -State arose as a means of protection against robbers, while -theoretically it is derived from the idea of rights. So also, even in -the actual history of philosophy, while the logical (theoretical) -process is an ascent from the abstract to the concrete, yet does the -historical development of philosophy, quite generally, descend from the -concrete to the abstract, from intuition to thought, and separates the -abstract from the concrete in those general forms of culture and those -religious and social circumstances, in which the philosophizing subject -is placed. A _system_ of philosophy proceeds synthetically, while the -_history_ of philosophy, _i. e._ the history of the thinking process -proceeds analytically. We might, therefore, with great propriety, adopt -directly the reverse of the Hegelian position, and say that what in -reality is the first, is for us, in fact, the last. This is illustrated -in the Ionic philosophy. It began not with being as an abstract -conception, but with the most concrete, and most apparent, _e. g._ with -the material conception of water, air, &c. Even if we leave the Ionics -and advance to the being of the Eleatics or the becoming of the -Heraclitics, we find, that these, instead of being pure thought -determinations, are only unpurified conceptions, and materially colored -intuitions. Still farther, is the attempt impracticable to refer every -philosophy that has appeared in history to some logical category as its -central principle, because the most of these philosophies have taken, -for their object, the idea, not as an abstract conception, but in its -realization as nature and mind, and, therefore, for the most part, have -to do, not with logical questions, but with those relating to natural -philosophy, psychology and ethics. Hegel should not, therefore, limit -his comparison of the historical and systematic process of development -simply to logic, but should extend it to the whole system of -philosophical science. Granted that the Eleatics, the Heraclitics and -the Atomists may have made such a category as the centre of their -systems, and we may find thus far the Hegelian logic in harmony with the -Hegelian history of philosophy. But if we go farther, how is it? How -with Anaxagoras, the Sophists, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle? We cannot, -certainly, without violence, press one central principle into the -systems of these men, but if we should be able to do it, and could -reduce _e. g._ the philosophy of Anaxagoras to the conception of "the -end," that of the Sophists to the conception of "the appearance," and -the Socratic Philosophy to the conception of "the good,"--yet even then -we have the new difficulty that the historical does not correspond to -the logical succession of these categories. In fact, Hegel himself has -not attempted a complete application of his principle, and indeed gave -it up at the very threshold of the Grecian philosophy. To the Eleatics, -the Heraclitics and the Atomists, the logical categories of "being," -"becoming," and being _per se_ may be successively ascribed, and so far, -as already remarked, the parallelism extends, but no farther. Not only -does Anaxagoras follow with the conception of reason working according -to an end, but if we go back before the Eleatics, we find in the very -beginning of philosophy a total diversity between the logical and -historical order. If Hegel had carried out his principle consistently, -he should have thrown away entirely the Ionic philosophy, for matter is -no logical category; he should have placed the Pythagoreans after the -Eleatics and the Atomists, for in logical order the categories of -quantity follow those of quality; in short, he would have been obliged -to set aside all chronology. Unless this be done, we must be satisfied -with a theoretical reproduction of the course which the thinking spirit -has taken in its history, only so far as we can see in the grand stages -of history a rational progress of thought; only so far as the -philosophical historian, surveying a period of development, actually -finds in it a philosophical acquisition,--the acquisition of a new idea: -but we must guard ourselves against applying to the transition and -intermediate steps, as well as to the whole detail of history, the -postulate of an immanent conformity to law, or an organism in harmony -with our own thoughts. History often winds its way like a serpent in -lines which appear retrogressive, and philosophy, especially, has not -seldom withdrawn herself from a wide and already fruitful field, in -order to settle down upon a narrow strip of land, the limits even of -which she has sought still more closely to abridge. At one time we find -thousands of years expended in fruitless attempts with only a negative -result;--at another, a fulness of philosophical ideas are crowded -together in the experience of a lifetime. There is here no sway of an -immutable and regularly returning law, but history, as the realm of -freedom, will first completely manifest itself at the end of time as the -work of reason. - - - - -SECTION II. - -CLASSIFICATION. - - -A few words will suffice to define our problem and classify its -elements. Where and when does philosophy begin? Manifestly, according to -the analysis made in § I., where a final philosophical principle, a -final ground of being is first sought in a philosophical way,--and hence -with the Grecian philosophy. The Oriental--Chinese and Hindoo--so named -philosophies,--but which are rather theologies or mythologies,--and the -mythic cosmogonies of Greece, in its earliest periods, are, therefore, -excluded from our more definite problem. Like Aristotle, we shall begin -the history of philosophy with Thales. For similar reasons we exclude -also the philosophy of the Christian middle ages, or Scholasticism. This -is not so much a philosophy, as a philosophizing or reflecting within -the already prescribed limits of positive religion. It is, therefore, -essentially theology, and belongs to the science of the history of -Christian doctrines. - -The material which remains after this exclusion, may be naturally -divided into two periods; viz:--ancient--Grecian and Græco-Romanic--and -modern philosophy. Since a preliminary comparison of the characteristics -of these two epochs could not here be given without a subsequent -repetition, we shall first speak of their inner relations, when we come -to treat of the transition from the one to the other. - -The first epoch can be still farther divided into three periods; (1.) -The pre-Socratic philosophy, _i. e._ from Thales to the Sophists -inclusive; (2.) Socrates, Plato, Aristotle; (3.) The post-Aristotelian -philosophy, including New Platonism. - - - - -SECTION III. - -GENERAL VIEW OF THE PRE-SOCRATIC PHILOSOPHY. - - -1. The universal tendency of the pre-Socratic philosophy is to find some -principle for the explanation of nature. Nature, the most immediate, -that which first met the eye and was the most palpable, was that which -first aroused the inquiring mind. At the basis of its changing -forms,--beneath its manifold appearances, thought they, lies a first -principle which abides the same through all change. What then, they -asked, is this principle? What is the original ground of things? Or, -more accurately, what element of nature is the fundamental element? To -solve this inquiry was the problem of the _Ionic_ natural philosophers. -One proposes as a solution, water, another, air, and a third, an -original chaotic matter. - -2. The _Pythagoreans_ attempted a higher solution of this problem. The -proportions and dimensions of matter rather than its sensible -concretions, seemed to them to furnish the true explanation of being. -They, accordingly, adopted as the principle of their philosophy, that -which would express a determination of proportions, _i. e._ numbers. -"Number is the essence of all things," was their position. Number is the -mean between the immediate sensuous intuition and the pure thought. -Number and measure have, to be sure, nothing to do with matter only in -so far as it possesses extension, and is capable of division in space -and time, but yet we should have no numbers or measures if there were no -matter, or nothing which could meet the intuitions of our sense. This -elevation above matter, which is at the same time a cleaving to matter, -constitutes the essence and the character of Pythagoreanism. - -3. Next come the _Eleatics_, who step absolutely beyond that which is -given in experience, and make a complete abstraction of every thing -material. This abstraction, this negation of all division in space and -time, they take as their principle, and call it pure being. Instead of -the sensuous principle of the Ionics, or the symbolic principle of the -Pythagoreans, the Eleatics, therefore, adopt an intelligible principle. - -4. Herewith closes the analytic, the first course in the development of -Grecian philosophy, to make way for the second, or synthetic course. The -Eleatics had sacrificed to their principle of pure being, the existence -of the world and every finite existence. But the denial of nature and -the world could not be maintained. The reality of both forced itself -upon the attention, and even the Eleatics had affirmed it, though in -guarded and hypothetical terms. But from their abstract being there was -no passage back to the sensuous and concrete; their principle ought to -have explained the being of events, but it did not. To find a principle -for the explanation of these, a principle which would account for the -becoming, the event was still the problem. _Heraclitus_ solved it, by -asserting that, inasmuch as being has no more reality than not being, -therefore the unity of the two, or in other words the becoming, is the -absolute principle. He held that it belonged to the very essence of -finite being that it be conceived in a continual flow, in an endless -stream. "Every thing flows." We have here the conception of original -energy, instead of the Ionic original matter; the first attempt to -explain being and its motion from a principle analytically attained. -From the time of Heraclitus, this inquiry after the cause of the -becoming, remained the chief interest and the moving spring of -philosophical development. - -5. Becoming is the unity of being and not-being, and into these two -elements is the Heraclitic principle consciously analyzed by the -_Atomists_. Heraclitus had uttered the principle of the becoming, but -only as a fact of experience. He had simply expressed it as a law, but -had not explained it. The necessity for this universal law yet remained -to be proved. WHY is every thing in a perpetual flow--in an eternal -movement? From the dynamical combination of matter and the moving force, -the next step was to a consciously determined distinction, to a -mechanical division of the two. Thus Empedocles combining the doctrines -of Heraclitus and Parmenides, considered matter as the abiding being, -while force was the ground of the movement. But the Atomists still -considered the moving mythic energies as forces; Empedocles regarded -them as love and hate; and Democritus as unconscious necessity. The -result was, therefore, that the becoming was rather limited as a means -for the mechanical explanation of nature, than itself explained. - -6. Despairing of any merely materialistic explanation of the becoming, -_Anaxagoras_ next appears, and places a world-forming Intelligence by -the side of matter. He recognized mind as the primal causality, to which -the existence of the world, together with its determined arrangement and -design (_zweckmässigkeit_) must be referred. In this, philosophy gained -a great principle, viz.--an ideal one. But Anaxagoras did not know how to -fully carry out his principles. Instead of a theoretical comprehension -of the universe--instead of deriving being from the idea, he grasped -again after some mechanical explanation. His "world-forming reason" -serves him only as a first impulse, only as a moving power. It is to him -a _Deus ex machina_. Notwithstanding, therefore, his glimpse of -something higher than matter, yet was Anaxagoras only a physical -philosopher, like his predecessors. Mind had not yet appeared to him as -a true force above nature, as an organizing soul of the universe. - -7. It is, therefore, a farther progress in thought, to comprehend -accurately the distinction between mind and nature, and to recognize -mind as something higher and contra-distinguished from all natural -being. This problem fell to the _Sophists_. They entangled in -contradictions, the thinking which had been confined to the object, to -that which was given, and gave to the objective world which had before -been exalted above the subject, a subordinate position in the dawning -and yet infantile consciousness of the superiority of subjective -thinking. The Sophists carried their principle of subjectivity, though -at first this was only negative, into the form of the universal -religious and political changing condition (_Aufklärung_).[1] They stood -forth as the destroyers of the whole edifice of thought that had been -thus far built, until _Socrates_ appeared, and set up against this -principle of _empirical_ subjectivity, that of the _absolute_ -subjectivity,--that of the spirit in the form of a free moral will, and -the thought is positively considered as something higher than existence, -as the truth of all reality. With the Sophist closes our first period, -for with these the oldest philosophy finds its self-destruction -(_Selbstauflösung_). - - - - -SECTION IV. - -THE IONIC PHILOSOPHERS. - - -1. THALES.--At the head of the Ionic natural philosophers, and therefore -at the head of philosophy, the ancients are generally agreed in placing -Thales of Miletus, a cotemporary of Croesus and Solon; although this -beginning lies more in the region of tradition than of history. The -philosophical principle to which he owes his place in the history of -philosophy is, that, "the principle (the primal, the original ground) of -all things is water; from water every thing arises and into water every -thing returns." But simply to assume water as the original ground of -things was not to advance beyond his myth-making predecessors and their -cosmologies. Aristotle, himself, when speaking of Thales, refers to the -old "theologians,"--meaning, doubtless, Homer and Hesiod,--who had -ascribed to Oceanus and Thetis, the origin of all things. Thales, -however, merits his place as the beginner of philosophy, because he made -the first attempt to establish his physical principle, without resorting -to a mythical representation, and, therefore, brought into philosophy a -scientific procedure. He is the first who has placed his foot upon the -ground of a logical (_verständig_) explanation of nature. We cannot now -say with certainty, how he came to adopt his principle, though he might -have been led to it, by perceiving that dampness belonged to the seed -and nourishment of things; that warmth is developed from moisture; and -that, generally, moisture might be the plastic, living and life-giving -principle. From the condensation and expansion of this first principle, -he derives, as it seems, the changes of things, though the way in which -this is done, he has not accurately determined. - -The philosophical significance of Thales does not appear to extend any -farther. He was not a speculative philosopher after a later mode. -Philosophical book-making was not at all the order of his day, and he -does not seem to have given any of his opinions a written form. On -account of his ethico-political wisdom, he is numbered among the -so-named "seven wise men," and the characteristics which the ancients -furnish concerning him only testify to his practical understanding. He -is said _e. g._ to have first calculated an eclipse of the sun, to have -superintended the turning of the course of the Halys under Croesus, &c. -When subsequent narrators relate that he had asserted the unity of the -world, had set up the idea of a world-soul, and had taught the -immortality of the soul and the personality of God, it is doubtless an -unhistorical reference of later ideas to a standpoint, which was, as -yet, far from being developed. - -2. ANAXIMANDER.--Anaximander, sometimes represented by the ancients as a -scholar and sometimes as a companion of Thales, but who was, at all -events, younger than the latter, sought to carry out still farther his -principles. The original essence which he assumed, and which he is said -to have been the first to have named principle ([Greek: archê]), he -defined as the "unlimited, eternal and unconditioned," as that which -embraced all things and ruled all things, and which, since it lay at the -basis of all determinateness of the finite and the changeable, is itself -infinite and undeterminate. How we are to regard this original essence -of Anaximander is a matter of dispute. Evidently it was not one of the -four common elements, though we must not, therefore, think it was -something incorporeal and immaterial. Anaximander probably conceived it -as the original matter before it had separated into determined -elements,--as that which was first in the order of time, or what is in -our day called the chemical indifference in the opposition of elements. -In this respect his original essence is indeed "unlimited" and -"undetermined," _i. e._ has no determination of quality nor limit of -quantity, yet it is not, therefore, in any way, a pure dynamical -principle, as perhaps the "friendship" and "enmity" of Empedocles might -have been, but it was only a more philosophical expression for the same -thought, which the old cosmogonies have attempted to utter in their -representation of chaos. Accordingly, Anaximander suffers the original -opposition of cold and warm, of dry and moist (_i. e._ the basis of the -four elements) to be secreted from his original essence, a clear proof -that it was only the undeveloped, unanalyzed, potential being of these -elemental opposites. - -3. ANAXIMENES.--Anaximenes, who is called by some the scholar, and by -others the companion of Anaximander, turned back more closely to the -view of Thales, in that he made air as the principle of all things. The -perception that air surrounds the whole world, and that breath -conditions the activity of life, seems to have led him to his position. - -4. RETROSPECT.--The whole philosophy of the three Ionic sages may be -reduced to these three points, viz:--(1.) They sought for the universal -essence of concrete being; (2.) They found this essence in a material -substance or substratum; (3.) They gave some intimation respecting the -derivation of the elements from this original matter. - - - - -SECTION V. - -PYTHAGOREANISM. - - -1. ITS RELATIVE POSITION.--The development of the Ionic philosophy -discloses the tendency to abstract matter from all else; though they -directed this process solely to the determined _quality_ of matter. It -is this abstraction carried to a higher step, when we look away from the -sensible concretions of matter, and no more regard its _qualitative_ -determinateness as water, air, &c., but only direct our attention to its -_quantitative_ determinateness,--to its space-filling property. But the -determinateness of quantity is number, and this is the principle and -standpoint of Pythagoreanism. - -2. HISTORICAL AND CHRONOLOGICAL.--The Pythagorean doctrine of numbers is -referred to Pythagoras of Samos, who is said to have flourished between -540 and 500 B. C. He dwelt in the latter part of his life at Crotonia, -in Magna Grecia, where he founded a society, or, more properly, an -order, for the moral and political regeneration of the lower Italian -cities. Through this society, this new direction of philosophy seems to -have been introduced,--though more as a mode of life than in the form of -a scientific theory. What is related concerning the life of Pythagoras, -his journeys, the new order which he founded, his political influence -upon the lower Italian cities, &c., is so thoroughly interwoven with -traditions, legends, and palpable fabrications, that we can be certain -at no point that we stand upon a historical basis. Not only the old -Pythagoreans, who have spoken of him, delighted in the mysterious and -esoteric, but even his new-Platonistic biographers, Porphyry and -Jamblichus, have treated his life as a historico-philosophical romance. -We have the same uncertainty in reference to his doctrines, _i. e._ in -reference to his share in the number-theory. Aristotle, _e. g._ does not -ascribe this to Pythagoras himself, but only to the Pythagoreans -generally, _i. e._ to their school. The accounts which are given -respecting his school have no certainty till the time of Socrates, a -hundred years after Pythagoras. Among the few sources of light which we -have upon this subject, are the mention made in Plato's Phædon of the -Pythagorean Philolaus and his doctrines, and the writings of Archytas, a -cotemporary of Plato. We possess in fact the Pythagorean doctrine only -in the manner in which it was taken up by Philolaus, Eurytas and -Archytas, since its earlier adherents left nothing in a written form. - -3. THE PYTHAGOREAN PRINCIPLE.--The ancients are united in affirming that -the principle of the Pythagorean philosophy was number. But in what -sense was this their principle--in a material or a formal sense? Did they -hold number as the material of things, _i. e._ did they believe that -things had their origin in numbers, or did they regard it as the -archetype of things, _i. e._ did they believe that things were made as -the copy or the representation of numbers? From this very point the -accounts given by the ancients diverge, and even the expressions of -Aristotle seem to contradict each other. At one time he speaks of -Pythagoreanism in the former, and at another in the latter sense. From -this circumstance modern scholars have concluded that the Pythagorean -doctrine of numbers had different forms of development; that some of the -Pythagoreans regarded numbers as the substances and others as the -archetypes of things. Aristotle, however, gives an intimation how the -two statements may be reconciled with each other. Originally, without -doubt, the Pythagoreans regarded number as the material, as the inherent -essence of things, and therefore Aristotle places them together with the -Hylics (the Ionic natural philosophers), and says of them that "they -held things for numbers" (_Metaph._ I., 5, 6). But as the Hylics did not -identify their matter, _e. g._ water, immediately with the sensuous -thing, but only gave it out as the fundamental element, as the original -form of the individual thing, so, on the other side, numbers also might -be regarded as similar fundamental types, and therefore Aristotle might -say of the Pythagoreans, that "they held numbers to be the corresponding -original forms of being, as water, air, &c." But if there still remains -a degree of uncertainty in the expressions of Aristotle respecting the -sense of the Pythagorean doctrine of numbers, it can only have its -ground in the fact that the Pythagoreans did not make any distinction -between a formal and material principle, but contented themselves with -the undeveloped view, that, "number is the essence of things, every -thing is number." - -4. THE CARRYING-OUT OF THIS PRINCIPLE.--From the very nature of the -"number-principle," it follows that its complete application to the -province of the real, can only lead to a fruitless and empty symbolism. -If we take numbers as even and odd, and still farther as finite and -infinite, and apply them as such to astronomy, music, psychology, -ethics, &c., there arise combinations like the following, viz.: one is -the point, two are the line, three are the superficies, four are the -extension of a body, five are the condition (_beschaffenheit_), -&c.--still farther, the soul is a musical harmony, as is also virtue, the -soul of the world, &c. Not only the philosophical, but even the -historical interest here ceases, since the ancients themselves--as was -unavoidable from the arbitrary nature of such combinations--have given -the most contradictory account, some affirming that the Pythagoreans -reduced righteousness to the number three, others, that they reduced it -to the number four, others again to five, and still others to nine. -Naturally, from such a vague and arbitrary philosophizing, there would -early arise, in this, more than in other schools, a great diversity of -views, one ascribing this signification to a certain mathematical form, -and another that. In this mysticism of numbers, that which alone has -truth and value, is the thought, which lies at the ground of it all, -that there prevails in the phenomena of nature a rational order, harmony -and conformity to law, and that these laws of nature can be represented -in measure and number. But this truth has the Pythagorean school hid -under extravagant fancies, as vapid as they are unbridled. - -The physics of the Pythagoreans possesses little scientific value, with -the exception of the doctrine taught by Philolaus respecting the -circular motion of the earth. Their ethics is also defective. What we -have remaining of it relates more to the Pythagorean life, _i. e._ to -the practice and discipline of their order than to their philosophy. The -whole tendency of Pythagoreanism was in a practical respect ascetic, and -directed to a strict culture of the character. As showing this, we need -only to cite their doctrines concerning the transmigration of the soul, -or, as it has been called, their "immortality doctrine," their notion in -respect of the lower world, their opposition to suicide, and their view -of the body as the prison of the soul--all of which ideas are referred to -in Plato's Phædon, and the last two of which are indicated as belonging -to Philolaus. - - - - -SECTION VI - -THE ELEATICS. - - -1. RELATION OF THE ELEATIC PRINCIPLE TO THE PYTHAGOREAN.--While the -Pythagoreans had made matter, in so far as it is quantity and the -manifold, the basis of their philosophizing, and while in this they only -abstracted from the determined elemental condition of matter, the -Eleatics carry the process to its ultimate limit, and make, as the -principle of their philosophy, a total abstraction from every finite -determinateness, from every change and vicissitude which belongs to -concrete being. While the Pythagoreans had held fast to the form of -being as having existence in space and time, the Eleatics reject this, -and make as their fundamental thought the negation of all exterior and -posterior. Only being is, and there is no not-being, nor becoming. This -being is the purely undetermined, changeless ground of all things. It is -not being _in_ becoming, but it is being as exclusive of all becoming; -in other words, it is pure being. - -Eleaticism is, therefore, Monism, in so far as it strove to carry back -the manifoldness of all being to a single ultimate principle; but on the -other hand it becomes Dualism, in so far as it could neither carry out -its denial of concrete existence, _i. e._, the phenomenal world, nor yet -derive the latter from its presupposed original ground. The phenomenal -world, though it might be explained as only an empty appearance, did yet -exist; and, since the sensuous perception would not ignore this, there -must be allowed it, hypothetically at least, the right of existence. Its -origin must be explained, even though with reservations. This -contradiction of an unreconciled Dualism between being and existence, is -the point where the Eleatic philosophy is at war with itself--though, in -the beginning of the school--with _Xenophanes_, it does not yet appear. -The principle itself, with its results, is only fully apparent in the -lapse of time. It has three periods of formation, which successively -appear in three successive generations. Its foundation belongs to -_Xenophanes_; its systematic formation to _Parmenides_; its completion -and partial dissolution to _Zeno_ and _Melissus_--the latter of whom we -can pass by. - -2. XENOPHANES.--Xenophanes is considered as the originator of the Eleatic -tendency. He was born at Colophon; emigrated to Elea, a Phocian colony -in Lucania, and was a younger cotemporary of Pythagoras. He appears to -have first uttered the proposition--"every thing is one," without, -however, giving any more explicit determination respecting this unity, -whether it be one simply in conception or in actuality. Turning his -attention, says Aristotle, upon the world as a whole, he names the unity -which he finds, God. God is the One. The Eleatic "One and All" ([Greek: -en kai pan]) had, therefore, with Xenophanes, a theological and -religious character. The idea of the unity of God, and an opposition to -the anthropomorphism of the ordinary views of religion, is his starting -point. He declaimed against the delusion that the gods were born, that -they had a human voice or form, and railed at the robbery, adultery, and -deceit of the gods as sung by Homer and Hesiod. According to him the -Godhead is wholly seeing, wholly understanding, wholly hearing, unmoved, -undivided, calmly ruling all things by his thought, like men neither in -form nor in understanding. In this way, with his thought turned only -towards removing from the Godhead all finite determinations and -predicates, and holding fast to its unity and unchangeableness, he -declared this doctrine of its being to be the highest philosophical -principle, without however directing this principle polemically against -the doctrine of finite being, or carrying it out in its negative -application. - -3. PARMENIDES.--The proper head of the Eleatic school is Parmenides of -Elea, a scholar, or at least an adherent of Xenophanes. Though we -possess but little reliable information respecting the circumstances of -his life, yet we have, in inverse proportion, the harmonious voice of -all antiquity in an expression of reverence for the Eleatic sage, and of -admiration for the depth of his mind, as well as for the earnestness and -elevation of his character. The saying--"a life like Parmenides," became -afterwards a proverb among the Greeks. - -Parmenides embodied his philosophy in an epic poem, of which we have -still important fragments. It is divided into two parts. In the first he -discusses the conception of being. Rising far above the yet unmediated -view of Xenophanes, he attains a conception of pure single being, which -he sets up as absolutely opposed to every thing manifold and changeable, -_i. e._, to that which has no being, and which consequently cannot be -thought. From this conception of being he not only excludes all becoming -and departing, but also all relation to space and time, all divisibility -and movement. This being he explains as something which has not become -and which does not depart, as complete and of its own kind, as -unalterable and without limit, as indivisible and present though not in -time, and since all these are only negative, he ascribes to it, also, as -a positive determination--thought. Being and thought are therefore -identical with Parmenides. This pure thought, directed to the pure -being, he declares is the only true and undeceptive knowledge, in -opposition to the deceptive notions concerning the manifoldness and -mutability of the phenomenal. He has no hesitancy in holding that to be -only a name which mortals regard as truth, viz., becoming and departing, -being and not-being, change of place and vicissitude of circumstance. We -must therefore be careful not to hold "the One" of Parmenides, as the -collective unity of all concrete being. - -So much for the first part of Parmenides' poem. After the principle that -there is only being has been developed according to its negative and -positive determinations, we might believe that the system was at an end. -But there follows a second part, which is occupied solely with the -hypothetical attempt to explain the phenomenal world and give it a -physical derivation. Though firmly convinced that, according to reason -and conception, there is only "the One," yet is Parmenides unable to -withdraw himself from the recognition of an appearing manifoldness and -change. Forced, therefore, by his sensuous perception to enter upon a -discussion of the phenomenal world, he prefaces this second part of his -poem with the remark, that he had now closed what he had to say -respecting the truth, and was hereafter to deal only with the opinion of -a mortal. Unfortunately, this second part has been very imperfectly -transmitted to us. Enough however remains to show, that he explained the -phenomena of nature from the mingling of two unchangeable elements, -which Aristotle, though apparently only by way of example, indicates as -warm and cold, fire and earth. Concerning these two elements, Aristotle -remarks still farther that Parmenides united the warmth with being, and -the other element with not-being. - -It is scarcely necessary to remark that between the two parts of the -Parmenidean philosophy--between the doctrine concerning being and the -doctrine concerning appearance--there can exist no inner scientific -connection. What Parmenides absolutely denies in the first part, and -indeed declares to be unutterable, viz., the not-being, the many and the -changeable, he yet in the second part admits to have an existence at -least in the representation of men. But it is clear that the not-being -cannot once exist in the representation, if it does not exist generally -and every where, and that the attempt to explain a not-being of the -representation, is in complete contradiction with his exclusive -recognition of being. This contradiction, this unmediated juxtaposition -of being and not-being, of the one and the many, _Zeno_, a scholar of -Parmenides, sought to remove, by affirming that from the very conception -of being, the sensuous representation, and thus the world of the -not-being, are dialectically annihilated. - -4. ZENO.--The Eleatic Zeno was born about 500 B. C.; was a scholar of -Parmenides, and the earliest prose writer among the Grecian -philosophers. He is said to have written in the form of dialogues. He -perfected, dialectically, the doctrine of his master, and carried out to -the completest extent the abstraction of the Eleatic One, in opposition -to the manifoldness and determinateness of the finite. He justified the -doctrine of a single, simple, and unchangeable being, in a polemical -way, by showing up the contradictions into which the ordinary -representations of the phenomenal world become involved. While -Parmenides affirms that there is only the One, Zeno shows in his -well-known proofs (which unfortunately we cannot here more widely -unfold), that the many, the changing, that which has relation to space, -or that which has relation to time, is not. While Parmenides affirmed -the being, Zeno denied the appearance. On account of these proofs, in -which Zeno takes up the conceptions of extension, manifoldness and -movement, and shows their inner contradictory nature, Aristotle names -him the founder of dialectics. - -While the philosophizing of Zeno is the completion of the Eleatic -principle, so is it at the same time the beginning of its dissolution. -Zeno had embraced the opposition of being and existence, of the one and -the many, so abstractly, and had carried it so far, that with him the -inner contradiction of the Eleatic principle comes forth still more -boldly than with Parmenides; for the more logical he is in the denial of -the phenomenal world, so much the more striking must be the -contradiction, of turning, on the one side, his whole philosophical -activity to the refutation of the sensuous representation, while, on the -other side, he sets over against it a doctrine which destroys the very -possibility of a false representation. - - - - -SECTION VII. - -HERACLITUS. - - -1. RELATION OF THE HERACLITIC PRINCIPLE TO THE ELEATIC.--Being and -existence, the one and the many, could not be united by the principle of -the Eleatics; the Monism which they had striven for had resulted in an -ill-concealed Dualism. Heraclitus reconciled this contradiction by -affirming that being and not-being, the one and the many, existed at the -same time as the becoming. While the Eleatics could not extricate -themselves from the dilemma that the world is either being or not-being, -Heraclitus removes the difficulty by answering--it is neither being nor -not-being, because it is both. - -2. HISTORICAL AND CHRONOLOGICAL.--Heraclitus, surnamed by later writers -the mystic, was born at Ephesus, and flourished about 500 B. C. His -period was subsequent to that of Xenophanes, though partially -cotemporary with that of Parmenides. He laid down his philosophical -thoughts in a writing "Concerning Nature," of which we possess only -fragments. Its rapid transitions, its expressions so concise, and full -of meaning, the general philosophical peculiarity of Heraclitus, and the -antique character of the earliest prose writings, all combine to make -this work so difficult to be understood that it has long been a proverb. -Socrates said concerning it, that "what he understood of it was -excellent, and he had no doubt that what he did not understand was -equally good; but the book requires an expert swimmer." Later Stoics and -Academicians have written commentaries upon it. - -3. THE PRINCIPLE OF THE BECOMING.--The ancients unite in ascribing to -Heraclitus the principle that the totality of things should be conceived -in an eternal flow, in an uninterrupted movement and transformation, and -that all continuance of things is only appearance. "Into the same -stream," so runs a saying of Heraclitus, "we descend, and at the same -time we do not descend; we are, and also we are not. For into the same -stream we cannot possibly descend twice, since it is always scattering -and collecting itself again, or rather it at the same time flows to us -and from us." There is, therefore, ground for the assertion that -Heraclitus had banished all rest and continuance from the totality of -things; and it is doubtless in this very respect that he accuses the eye -and the ear of deception, because they reveal to men a continuance where -there is only an uninterrupted change. - -Heraclitus has analyzed the principle of the becoming still more -closely, in the propositions which he utters, to account for the origin -of things, where he shows that all becoming must be conceived as the -product of warring opposites, as the harmonious union of opposite -determinations. Hence his two well-known propositions: "Strife is the -father of things," and "The One setting itself at variance with itself, -harmonizes with itself, like the harmony of the bow and the viol." -"Unite," so runs another of his sayings, "the whole and the not-whole, -the coalescing and the not-coalescing, the harmonious and the -discordant, and thus we have the one becoming from the all, and the all -from the one." - -4. THE PRINCIPLE OF FIRE.--In what relation does the principle of fire, -which is also ascribed to Heraclitus, stand to the principle of the -becoming? Aristotle says that he took fire as his principle, in the same -way that Thales took water, and Anaximenes took air. But it is clear we -must not interpret this to mean that Heraclitus regarded fire as the -original material or fundamental element of things, after the manner of -the Ionics. If he ascribed reality only to the becoming, it is -impossible that he should have set by the side of this becoming, yet -another elemental matter as a fundamental substance. When, therefore, -Heraclitus calls the world an ever-living fire, which in certain stages -and certain degrees extinguishes and again enkindles itself, when he -says that every thing can be exchanged for fire, and fire for every -thing, just as we barter things for gold and gold for things, he can -only mean thereby that fire represents the abiding power of this eternal -transformation and transposition, in other words, the conception of -life, in the most obvious and effective way. We might name fire, in the -Heraclitic sense, the symbol or the manifestation of the becoming, but -that it is also with him the substratum of movement, _i. e._ the means -with which the power of movement, which is antecedent to all matter, -serves it self in order to bring out the living process of things. In -the same way Heraclitus goes on to explain the manifoldness of things, -by affirming that they arise from certain hindrances and a partial -extinction of this fire. The product of its extremest hindrance is the -earth, and the other things lie intermediately between. - -5. TRANSITION TO THE ATOMISTS.--We have above regarded the Heraclitic -principle as the consequent of the Eleatic, but we might as properly -consider the two as antitheses. While Heraclitus destroys all abiding -being in an absolutely flowing becoming, so, on the other hand, -Parmenides destroys all becoming in an absolutely abiding being; and -while the former charges the eye and the ear with deception, in that -they transform the flowing becoming into a quiescent being, the latter -also accuses these same senses of an untrue representation, in that they -draw the abiding being into the movement of the becoming. We can -therefore say that the being and the becoming are equally valid -antitheses, which demand again a synthesis and reconciliation. But now -can we say that Heraclitus actually and satisfactorily solved the -problem of Zeno? Zeno had shown every thing actual to be a -contradiction, and from this had inferred their not-being, and it is -only in this inference that Heraclitus deviates from the Eleatics. He -also regarded the phenomenal world as an existing contradiction, but he -clung to this contradiction as to an ultimate fact. That which had been -the negative result of the Eleatics, he uttered as his positive -principle. The dialectics which Zeno had subjectively used against the -phenomenal, he directed objectively as a proof for the becoming. But -this becoming which the Eleatics had thought themselves obliged to deny -entirely, Heraclitus did not explain by simply asserting that it was the -only true principle. The question continually returned--why is all being -a becoming? Why does the one go out over into the many? To give an -answer to this question, _i. e._ to explain the becoming from the -presupposed principle of being, forms the standpoint and problem of the -_Empedoclean_ and _Atomistic_ philosophy. - - - - -SECTION VIII. - -EMPEDOCLES. - - -1. GENERAL VIEW.--Empedocles was born at Agrigentum, and is extolled by -the ancients as a natural philosopher, physician and poet, and also as a -seer and worker of miracles. He flourished about 440 B. C., and was -consequently younger than Parmenides and Heraclitus. He wrote a -doctrinal poem concerning nature, which has been preserved to us in -tolerably complete fragments. His philosophical system may be -characterized in brief, as an attempt to combine the Eleatic being and -the Heraclitic becoming. Starting with the Eleatic thought, that neither -any thing which had previously been could become, nor any thing which -now is could depart, he sets up as unchangeable being, four eternal -original materials, which, though divisible, were independent, and -underived from each other. In this we have what in our day are called -the four elements. With this Eleatic thought he united also the -Heraclitic view of nature, and suffered his four elements to become -mingled together, and to receive a form by the working of two moving -powers, which he names unifying friendship and dividing strife. -Originally, these four elements were absolutely alike and unmovable, -dwelling together in a divine sphere where friendship united them, until -gradually strife pressing from the circumference to the centre of the -sphere (_i. e._ attaining a separating activity), broke this union, and -the formation of the world immediately began as the result. - -2. THE FOUR ELEMENTS.--With his doctrine of the four elements, -Empedocles, on the one side, may be joined to the series of the Ionic -philosophers, but, on the other, he is excluded from this by his -assuming the original elements to be four. He is distinctly said by the -ancients to have originated the theory of the four elements. He is more -definitely distinguished from the old Ionics, from the fact that he -ascribed to his four "root-elements" a changeless being, by virtue of -which they neither arose from each other nor departed into each other, -and were capable of no change of essence but only of a change of state. -Every thing which is called arising and departing, every change rests -therefore only upon the mingling and withdrawing of these eternal and -fundamental materials; the inexhaustible manifoldness of being rests -upon the different proportions in which these elements are mingled. -Every becoming is conceived as such only as a change of place. In this -we have a mechanical in opposition to a dynamic explanation of nature. - -3. THE TWO POWERS.--Whence now can arise any becoming, if in matter -itself there is found no principle to account for the change? Since -Empedocles did not, like the Eleatics, deny that there was change, nor -yet, like Heraclitus, introduce it in his matter, as an indwelling -principle, so there was no other course left him but to place, by the -side of his matter, a moving power. The opposition of the one and the -many which had been set up by his predecessors, and which demanded an -explanation, led him to ascribe to this moving power, two originally -diverse directions, viz.: repulsion and attraction. The separation of -the one into the many, and the union again of the many into the one, had -indicated an opposition of powers which Heraclitus had already -recognized. While now Parmenides starting from the one had made love as -his principle, and Heraclitus starting from the many had made strife as -his, Empedocles combines the two as the principle of his philosophy. The -difficulty is, he has not sufficiently limited in respect to one -another, the sphere of operation of these two directions of his power. -Although, to friendship belonged peculiarly the attractive, and to -strife the repelling function, yet does Empedocles, on the other hand, -suffer his strife to have in the formation of the world a unifying, and -his friendship a dividing effect. In fact, the complete separation of a -dividing and unifying power in the movement of the becoming, is an -unmaintainable abstraction. - -4. RELATION OF THE EMPEDOCLEAN TO THE ELEATIC AND HERACLITIC -PHILOSOPHY.--Empedocles, by placing, as the principle of the becoming, a -moving power by the side of his matter, makes his philosophy a mediation -of the Eleatic and Heraclitic principles, or more properly a placing of -them side by side. He has interwoven these two principles in equal -proportions in his system. With the Eleatics he denied all arising and -departing, _i. e._ the transition of being into not-being and of -not-being into being, and with Heraclitus he shared the interest to find -an explanation for change. From the former he derived the abiding, -unchangeable being of his fundamental matter, and from the latter the -principle of the moving power. With the Eleatics, in fine, he considered -the true being in an original and indistinguishable unity as a sphere, -and with Heraclitus, he regarded the present world as a constant product -of striving powers and oppositions. He has, therefore, been properly -called an Eclectic, who has united the fundamental thoughts of his two -predecessors, though not always in a logical way. - - - - -SECTION IX. - -THE ATOMISTIC PHILOSOPHY. - - -1. ITS PROPOUNDERS.--Empedocles had sought to effect a combination of the -Eleatic and Heraclitic principle--the same was attempted, though in a -different way, by the Atomists, Leucippus and Democritus. Democritus, -the better known of the two, was the son of rich parents, and was born -about 460 B. C. in Abdera, an Ionian colony. He travelled extensively, -and no Greek before the time of Aristotle possessed such varied -attainments. He embodied the wealth of his collected knowledge in a -series of writings, of which, however, only a few fragments have come -down to us. For rhythm and elegance of language, Cicero compared him -with Plato. He died in a good old age. - -2. THE ATOMS.--Empedocles derived all determinateness of the phenomenal -from a certain number of qualitatively determined and undistinguishable -original materials, while the Atomists derived the same from an -originally unlimited number of constituent elements, or atoms, which -were homogeneous in respect of quality, but diverse in respect of form. -These atoms are unchangeable, material particles, possessing indeed -extension, but yet indivisible, and can only be determined in respect of -magnitude. As being, and without quality, they are entirely incapable of -any transformation or qualitative change, and, therefore, all becoming -is, as with Empedocles, only a change of place. The manifoldness of the -phenomenal world is only to be explained from the different form, -disposition, and arrangement of the atoms as they become, in various -ways, united. - -3. THE FULNESS AND THE VOID.--The atoms, in order to be atoms, _i. e._ -undivided and impenetrable unities,--must be mutually limited and -separated. There must be something set over against them which preserves -them as atoms, and which is the original cause of their separateness and -impenetrability. This is the void space, or more strictly the intervals -which are found between the atoms, and which hinder their mutual -contact. The atoms, as being and absolute fulness, and the interval -between them, as the void and the not-being, are two determinations -which only represent in a real and objective way, what are in thought, -as logical conceptions, the two elements in the Heraclitic becoming, -viz. being and the not-being. But since the void space is one -determination of being, it must possess objective reality no less than -the atoms, and Democritus even went so far as to expressly affirm in -opposition to the Eleatics, that being is no more than nothing. - -4. THE ATOMISTIC NECESSITY.--Democritus, like Empedocles, though far more -extensively than he, attempted to answer the question--whence arise these -changes and movements which we behold? Wherein lies the ground that the -atoms should enter into these manifold combinations, and bring forth -such a wealth of inorganic and organic forms? Democritus attempted to -solve the problem by affirming that the ground of movement lay in the -gravity or original condition of the material particles, and, therefore, -in the matter itself, but in this way he only talked about the question -without answering it. The idea of an infinite series of causalities was -thus attained, but not a final ground of all the manifestations of the -becoming, and of change. Such a final ground was still to be sought, and -as Democritus expressly declared that it could not lie in an ultimate -reason [Greek: nous], where Anaxagoras placed it, there only -remained for him to find it in an absolute necessity, or a necessary -pre-determinateness [Greek: anagkê]. This he adopted as his "final -ground," and is said to have named it chance [Greek: tuchê], in -opposition to the inquiry after final causes, or the Anaxagorean -teleology. Consequent upon this, we find as the prominent characteristic -of the later Atomistic school (Diagoras the Melier), polemics against -the gods of the people, and a constantly more publicly affirmed Atheism -and Materialism. - -5. RELATIVE POSITION OF THE ATOMISTIC PHILOSOPHY.--Hegel characterizes -the relative position of the Atomistic Philosophy as follows, viz.:--"In -the Eleatic Philosophy being and not-being stand as antitheses,--being -alone is, and not-being is not; in the Heraclitic idea, being and -not-being are the same,--both together, _i. e._ the becoming, are the -predicate of concrete being; but being and not-being, as objectively -determined, or in other words, as appearing to the sensuous intuition, -are precisely the same as the antithesis of the fulness and the void. -Parmenides, Heraclitus and the Atomists all sought for the abstract -universal; Parmenides found it in _being_, Heraclitus in the _process_ -of being _per se_, and the Atomists in the _determination_ of being _per -se_." So much of this as ascribes to the Atomists the characteristic -predicate of being _per se_ is doubtless correct,--but the real thought -of the Atomistic system is rather analogous with the Empedoclean, to -explain the possibility of the becoming, by presupposing these -substances as possessing being _per se_, but without quality. To this -end the not-being or the void, _i. e._ the side which is opposed to the -Eleatic principle, is elaborated with no less care than the side which -harmonizes with it, _i. e._ that the atoms are without quality and never -change in their original elements. The Atomistic Philosophy is therefore -a mediation between the Eleatic and the Heraclitic principles. It is -Eleatic in affirming the undivided being _per se_ of the -atoms;--Heraclitic, in declaring their multeity and manifoldness. It is -Eleatic in the declaration of an absolute fulness in the atoms, and -Heraclitic in the claim of a real not-being, _i. e._ the void space. It -is Eleatic in its denial of the becoming, _i. e._ of the arising and -departing,--and Heraclitic in its affirmation that to the atoms belong -movement and a capacity for unlimited combinations. The Atomists carried -out their leading thought more logically than Empedocles, and we might -even say that their system is the perfection of a purely mechanical -explanation of nature, since all subsequent Atomists, even to our own -day, have only repeated their fundamental conceptions. But the great -defect which cleaves to every Atomistic system, Aristotle has justly -recognized, when he shows that it is a contradiction, on the one hand, -to set up something corporeal or space-filling as indivisible, and on -the other, to derive the extended from that which has no extension, and -that the consciousless and inconceivable necessity of Democritus is -especially defective, in that it totally banishes from nature all -conception of design. This is the point to which Anaxagoras turns his -attention, and introduces his principle of an intelligence working with -design. - - - - -SECTION X. - -ANAXAGORAS. - - -1. HIS PERSONAL HISTORY.--Anaxagoras is said to have been born at -Clazamena, about the year 500 B. C.; to have gone to Athens immediately, -or soon after the Persian war, to have lived and taught there for a long -time, and, finally, accused of irreverence to the gods, to have fled, -and died at Lampsacus, at the age of 72. He it was who first planted -philosophy at Athens, which from this time on became the centre of -intellectual life in Greece. Through his personal relations to Pericles, -Euripides, and other important men,--among whom Themistocles and -Thucydides should be named--he exerted a decisive influence upon the -culture of the age. It was on account of this that the charge of -defaming the gods was brought against him, doubtless by the political -opponents of Pericles. Anaxagoras wrote a work "_Concerning Nature_" -which in the time of Socrates was widely circulated. - -2. HIS RELATION TO HIS PREDECESSORS.--The system of Anaxagoras starts -from the same point with his predecessors, and is simply another attempt -at the solution of the same problem. Like Empedocles and the Atomists so -did Anaxagoras most vehemently deny the becoming. "The becoming and -departing,"--so runs one of his sayings--"the Greeks hold without -foundation, for nothing can ever be said to become or depart; but, since -existing things may be compounded together and again divided, we should -name the becoming more correctly a combination, and the departing a -separation." From this view, that every thing arose by the mingling of -different elements, and departed by the withdrawing of these elements, -Anaxagoras, like his predecessors, was obliged to separate matter from -the moving power. But though his point of starting was the same, yet was -his direction essentially different from that of any previous -philosopher. It was clear that neither Empedocles nor Democritus had -satisfactorily apprehended the moving power. The mythical energies of -love and hate of the one, or the unconscious necessity of the other, -explained nothing, and least of all, the design of the becoming in -nature. The conception of an activity which could thus work designedly, -must, therefore, be brought into the conception of the moving power, and -this Anaxagoras accomplished by setting up the idea of a world-forming -intelligence ([Greek: nous]), absolutely separated from all matter -and working with design. - -3. THE PRINCIPLE OF THE [Greek: nous].--Anaxagoras described this -intelligence as free to dispose, unmingled with any thing, the ground of -movement, but itself unmoved, every where active, and the most refined -and pure of all things. Although these predicates rest partly upon a -physical analogy, and do not exhibit purely the conception of -immateriality, yet on the other hand does the attribute of thought and -of a conscious acting with design admit no doubt to remain of the -decided idealistic character of the Anaxagorean principle. Nevertheless, -Anaxagoras went no farther than to enunciate his fundamental thought -without attempting its complete application. The explanation of this is -obvious from the reasons which first led him to adopt his principle. It -was only the need of an original cause of motion, to which also might be -attributed the capacity to work designedly, which had led him to the -idea of an immaterial principle. His [Greek: nous], therefore, is -almost nothing but a mover of matter, and in this function nearly all -its activity is expended. Hence the universal complaint of the ancients, -especially of Plato and Aristotle, respecting the mechanical character -of his doctrine. In Plato's Phædon Socrates relates that, in the hope of -being directed beyond a simple occasioning, or mediate cause, he had -turned to the book of Anaxagoras, but had found there only a mechanical -instead of a truly teleological explanation of being. And as Plato so -also does Aristotle find fault with Anaxagoras in that, while he admits -mind as the ultimate ground of things, he yet resorts to it only as to a -_Deus ex machina_ for the explanation of phenomena, whose necessity he -could not derive from the causality in nature. Anaxagoras, therefore, -has rather postulated than proved mind as an energy above nature, and as -the truth and actuality of natural being. - -The further extension of his system, his doctrine concerning the -homoiomeria (constituent elements of things), which according to him -existed together originally in a chaotic condition until with their -separation and parting the formation of the world began--can here only be -mentioned. - -4. ANAXAGORAS AS THE CLOSE OF THE PRE-SOCRATIC REALISM.--With the -Anaxagorean principle of the [Greek: nous], _i. e._ with the -acquisition of an absolutely immaterial principle, closes the realistic -period of the old Grecian Philosophy. Anaxagoras combined together the -principles of all his predecessors. The infinite matter of the Hylics is -represented in his chaotic original mingling of things; the Eleatic pure -being appears in the idea of the [Greek: nous]; the Heraclitic -power of becoming and the Empedoclean moving energies are both seen in -the creating and arranging power of the eternal mind, while the -Democritic atoms come to view in the homoiomeria. Anaxagoras is the -closing point of an old and the beginning point of a new course of -development,--the latter through the setting up of his ideal principle, -and the former through the defective and completely physical manner in -which this principle was yet again applied. - - - - -SECTION XI. - -THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY. - - -1. RELATION OF THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY TO THE ANAXAGOREAN -PRINCIPLE.--Anaxagoras had formed the conception of mind, and in this had -recognized thought as a power above the objective world. Upon this newly -conquered field the Sophistic philosophy now began its gambols, and with -childish wantonness delighted itself in setting at work this power, and -in destroying, by means of a subjective dialectic, all objective -determinations. The Sophistic philosophy--though of far more significance -from its relation to the culture of the age than from its philosophy--had -for its starting principle the breach which Anaxagoras had commenced -between the subjective and the objective,--the Ego and the external -world. The subject, after recognizing himself as something higher than -the objective world, and especially as something above the laws of the -state, above custom and religious tradition and the popular faith, in -the next place attempted to prescribe laws for this objective world, and -instead of beholding in it the historical manifestation of reason, he -looked upon it only as an exanimated matter, upon which he might -exercise his will. - -The Sophistic philosophy should be characterized as the clearing up -reflection. It is, therefore, no philosophical system, for its doctrines -and affirmations exhibit often so popular and even trivial a character -that for their own sake they would merit no place at all in the history -of philosophy. It is also no philosophical school in the ordinary sense -of the term,--for Plato cites a vast number of persons under the common -name of "Sophists,"--but it is an intellectual and widely spread -direction of the age, which had struck its roots into the whole moral, -political, and religious character of the Athenian life of that time, -and which may be called the Athenian clearing up period. - -2. RELATION OF THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY TO THE UNIVERSAL LIFE OF THAT -AGE.--The Sophistic philosophy is, theoretically, what the whole Athenian -life during the Peloponnesian war was practically. Plato justly remarks -in his Republic that the doctrines of the Sophists only expressed the -very principles which guided the course of the great mass of men of that -time in their civil and social relations, and the hatred with which they -were pursued by the practical statesmen, clearly indicates the jealousy -with which the latter saw in them their rivals and the destroyers of -their polity. If the absoluteness of the empirical subject--i. e. the -view that the individual Ego can arbitrarily determine what is true, -right and good,--is in fact the theoretical principle of the Sophistic -philosophy, so does this in a practical direction, as an unlimited -Egoism meet us in all the spheres of the public and private life of that -age. The public life had become an arena of passion and selfishness; -those party struggles which racked Athens during the Peloponnesian war -had blunted and stifled the moral feeling; every individual accustomed -himself to set up his own private interest above that of the state and -the common weal, and to seek in his own arbitrariness and advantage the -measuring rod for all his actions. The Protagorean sentence that "the -man is the measure of all things" became practically carried out only -too faithfully, and the influence of the orator in the assemblies of the -people and the courts, the corruptibility of the great masses and their -leaders, and the weak points which showed to the adroit student of human -nature the covetousness, vanity, and factiousness of others around him, -offered only too many opportunities to bring this rule into practice. -Custom had lost its weight; the laws were regarded as only an agreement -of the majority, the civil ordinance as an arbitrary restriction, the -moral feeling as the effect of the policy of the state in education, the -faith in the gods as a human invention to intimidate the free power of -action, while piety was looked upon as a statute which some men have -enacted and which every one else is justified in using all his eloquence -to change. This degradation of a necessity, which is conformable to -nature and reason, and which is of universal validity,--to an accidental -human ordinance, is chiefly the point in which the Sophistic philosophy -came in contact with the universal consciousness of the educated class -of that period, and we cannot with certainty determine what share -science and what share the life may have had in this connection,--whether -the Sophistic philosophy found only the theoretical formula for the -practical life and tendencies of the age, or whether the moral -corruption was rather a consequence of that destructive influence which -the principles of the Sophists exerted upon the whole course of -contemporaneous thought. - -It would be, however, to mistake the spirit of history if we were only -to bewail the epoch of the Sophists instead of admitting for it a -relative justification. These phenomena were in part the necessary -product of the collective development of the age. The faith in the -popular religion fell so suddenly to the ground simply because it -possessed in itself no inner, moral support. The grossest vices and acts -of baseness could all be justified and excused from the examples of -mythology. Even Plato himself, though otherwise an advocate of a devout -faith in the traditional religion, accuses the poets of his nation with -leading the very moral feeling astray, through the unworthy -representations which they had spread abroad concerning the gods and the -hero world. It was moreover unavoidable that the advancing science -should clash with tradition. The physical philosophers had already long -lived in open hostility to the popular religion, and the more -convincingly they demonstrated by analogies and laws that many things -which had hitherto been regarded as the immediate effect of Divine -omnipotence, were only the results of natural causes, so much the more -easily would it happen that the educated classes would become perplexed -in reference to all their previous convictions. It was no wonder then -that the transformed consciousness of the time should penetrate all the -provinces of art and poesy; that in sculpture, wholly analogous to the -rhetoric art of the Sophistic philosophy, the emotive should occupy the -place of the elevated style; that Euripides, the sophist among -tragedians, should bring the whole philosophy of the time and its manner -of moral reflection upon the stage; and that, instead of like the -earlier poets, bringing forward his actors to represent an idea, he -should use them only as means to excite a momentary emotion or some -other stage effect. - -3. TENDENCIES OF THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY.--To give a definite -classification of the Sophistic philosophy, which should be derived from -the conception of the general phenomena of the age, is exceedingly -difficult, since, like the French "clearing up" of the last century, it -entered into every department of knowledge. The Sophists directed the -universal culture of the time. Protagoras was known as a teacher of -virtue, Gorgias as a rhetorician and politician, Prodicus as a -grammarian and teacher of synonyms, Hippias as a man of various -attainments, who besides astronomical and mathematical studies busied -himself with a theory of mnemonics; others took for their problem the -art of education, and others still the explanation of the old poets; the -brothers Euthydemus and Dionysidorus gave instruction in the bearing of -arms and military tactics; many among them, as Gorgias, Prodicus, and -Hippias, were intrusted with embassies: in short the Sophists, each one -according to his individual tendency, took upon themselves every variety -of calling and entered into every sphere of science; their method is the -only thing common to all. Moreover the relation of the Sophists to the -educated public, their striving after popularity, fame and money, -disclose the fact that their studies and occupations were for the most -part controlled, not by a subjective scientific interest, but by some -external motive. With that roving spirit which was an essential -peculiarity of the later Sophists, travelling from city to city, and -announcing themselves as thinkers by profession--and giving their -instructions with prominent reference to a good recompense and the favor -of the rich private classes, it was very natural that they should -discourse upon the prominent questions of universal interest and of -public culture, with occasional reference also to the favorite -occupation of this or that rich man with whom they might be brought in -contact. Hence their peculiar strength lay far more in a formal -dexterity, in an acuteness of thought and a capacity of bringing it -readily into exercise, in the art of discourse than in any positive -knowledge; their instruction in virtue was given either in positive -dogmatism or in empty bombast, and even where the Sophistic philosophy -became really polymathic, the art of speech still remained as the great -thing. So we find in Xenophon, Hippias boasting that he can speak -repeatedly upon every subject and say something new each time, while we -hear it expressly affirmed of others, that they had no need of positive -knowledge in order to discourse satisfactorily upon every thing, and to -answer every question extemporaneously; and when many Sophists make it a -great point to hold a well-arranged discourse about something of the -least possible significance (_e. g._ salt), so do we see that with them -the thing was only a means while the word was the end, and we ought not -to be surprised that in this respect the Sophistic philosophy sunk to -that empty technicality which Plato in his Phædrus, on account of its -want of character, subjects to so rigid a criticism. - -4. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY FROM ITS RELATION TO THE -CULTURE OF THE AGE.--The scientific and moral defect of the Sophistic -philosophy is at first view obvious; and, since certain modern writers -of history with over-officious zeal have painted its dark sides in -black, and raised an earnest accusation against its frivolity, -immorality, and greediness for pleasure, its conceitedness and -selfishness, and bare appearance of wisdom and art of dispute--it needs -here no farther elucidation. But the point in it most apt to be -overlooked is the merit of the Sophists in their effect upon the culture -of the age. To say, as is done, that they had only the negative merit of -calling out the opposition of Socrates and Plato, is to leave the -immense influence and the high fame of so many among them, as well as -the revolution which they brought about in the thinking of a whole -nation, an inexplicable phenomenon. It were inexplicable that _e. g._ -Socrates should attend the lectures of Prodicus, and direct to him other -students, if he did not acknowledge the worth of his grammatical -performances or recognize his merit for the soundness of his logic. -Moreover, it cannot be denied that Protagoras has hit upon many correct -principles of rhetoric, and has satisfactorily established certain -grammatical categories. Generally may it be said of the Sophists, that -they threw among the people a fulness in every department of knowledge; -that they strewed about them a vast number of fruitful germs of -development; that they called out investigations in the theory of -knowledge, in logic and in language; that they laid the basis for the -methodical treatment of many branches of human knowledge, and that they -partly founded and partly called forth that wonderful intellectual -activity which characterized Athens at that time. Their greatest merit -is their service in the department of language. They may even be said to -have created and formed the Attic prose. They are the first who made -style as such a separate object of attention and study, and who set -about rigid investigations respecting number and the art of rhetorical -representation. With them Athenian eloquence, which they first incited, -begins. Antiphon as well as Isocrates--the latter the founder of the most -flourishing school of Greek rhetoric--are offshoots of the Sophistic -philosophy. In all this there is ground enough to regard this whole -phenomenon as not barely a symptom of decay. - -5. INDIVIDUAL SOPHISTS.--The first, who is said to have been called, in -the received sense, Sophist, is _Protagoras_ of Abdera, who flourished -about 440 B. C. He taught, and for wages, in Sicily and in Athens, but -was driven out of the latter place as a reviler of the gods, and his -book concerning the gods was burnt by the herald in the public -market-place. It began with these words: "I can know nothing concerning -the gods, whether they exist or not; for we are prevented from gaining -such knowledge not only by the obscurity of the thing itself, but by the -shortness of the human life," In another writing he develops his -doctrine concerning knowing or not-knowing. Starting from the Heraclitic -position that every thing is in a constant flow, and applying this -preëminently to the thinking subject, he taught that the man is the -measure of all things, who determines in respect of being that it may -be, and of not-being that it may not be, _i. e._ that is true for the -perceiving subject which he, in the constant movement of things and of -himself, at every moment perceives and is sensible of--and hence he has -theoretically no other relation to the external world than the sensuous -apprehension, and practically no other than the sensuous desire. But -now, since perception and sensation are as diverse as the subjects -themselves, and are in the highest degree variable in the very same -subject, there follows the farther result that nothing has an objective -validity and determination, that contradictory affirmations in reference -to the same object must be received as alike true, and that error and -contradiction cannot be. Protagoras does not seem to have made any -efforts to give these frivolous propositions a practical and logical -application. According to the testimony of the ancients, a personal -character worthy of esteem, cannot be denied him; and even Plato, in the -dialogue which bears his name, goes no farther than to object to his -complete obscurity respecting the nature of morality, while, in his -Gorgias and Philebus, he charges the later Sophists with affirming the -principles of immorality and moral baseness. - -Next to Protagoras, the most famous Sophist was _Gorgias_. During the -Peloponnesian war (426 B. C.), he came from Leontium to Athens in order -to gain assistance for his native city against the encroachments of -Syracuse, After the successful accomplishment of his errand he still -abode for some time in Athens, but resided the latter part of his life -in Thessaly, where he died about the same time with Socrates. The -pompous ostentation of his external appearance is often ridiculed by -Plato, and the discourses through which he was wont to exhibit himself -display the same character, attempting, through poetical ornament, and -florid metaphors, and uncommon words, and a mass of hitherto unheard of -figures of speech, to dazzle and delude the mind. As a philosopher he -adhered to the Eleatics, especially to Zeno, and attempts to prove upon -the basis of their dialectic schematism, that universally nothing is, or -if there could be a being, it would not be cognizable, or if cognizable -it would not be communicable. Hence his writing bore characteristically -enough the title--"_Concerning Not-being or Nature_." The proof of the -first proposition that universally nothing is, since it can be -established neither as being nor as not-being, nor yet as at the same -time both being and not-being, rests entirely upon the position that all -existence is a space-filling existence (has place and body), and is in -fact the final consequence which overturns itself, in other words the -self-destruction of the hitherto physical method of philosophizing. - -The later Sophists with reckless daring carried their conclusions far -beyond Gorgias and Protagoras. They were for the most part free -thinkers, who pulled to the ground the religion, laws, and customs of -their birth. Among these should be named, prominently, the tyrant -Critias, Polus, Callicles, and Thrasymachus. The two latter openly -taught the right of the stronger as the law of nature, the unbridled -satisfaction of desire as the natural right of the stronger, and the -setting up of restraining laws as a crafty invention of the weaker; and -Critias, the most talented but the most abandoned of the thirty tyrants, -wrote a poem, in which he represented the faith in the gods as an -invention of crafty statesmen. Hippias of Elis, a man of great -knowledge, bore an honorable character, although he did not fall behind -the rest in bombast and boasting; but before all, was Prodicus, in -reference to whom it became a proverb to say--"as wise as Prodicus," and -concerning whom Plato himself and even Aristophanes never spoke without -veneration. Especially famous among the ancients were his parenetical -(persuasive) lectures concerning the choice of a mode of life -(Xenophon's Memorabilia, II. 1), concerning external good and its use, -concerning life and death, &c., discourses in which he manifests a -refined moral feeling, and his observation of life; although, through -the want of a higher ethical and scientific principle, he must be placed -behind Socrates, whose forerunner he has been called. The later -generations of Sophists, as they are shown in the Euthydemus of Plato, -sink to a common level of buffoonery and disgraceful strife for gain, -and comprise their whole dialectic art in certain formulæ for entangling -fallacies. - -6. TRANSITION TO SOCRATES AND CHARACTERISTIC OF THE FOLLOWING -PERIOD.--That which is true in the Sophistic philosophy is the truth of -the subjectivity, of the self-consciousness, _i. e._ the demand that -every thing which I am to admit must be shown as rational before my own -consciousness--that which is false in it is its apprehension of this -subjectivity as nothing farther than finite, empirical egoistic -subjectivity, _i. e._ the demand that my accidental will and opinion -should determine what is rational; its truth is that it set up the -principle of freedom, of self-certainty; its untruth is that it -established the accidental will and notion of the individual upon the -throne. To carry out now the principle of freedom and self-consciousness -to its truth, to gain a true world of objective thought with a real and -distinct content, by the same means of reflection which the Sophists had -only used to destroy it, to establish the objective will, the rational -thinking, the absolute or ideal in the place of the empirical -subjectivity was the problem of the next advent in philosophy, the -problem which Socrates took up and solved. To make the absolute or ideal -subjectivity instead of the empirical for a principle, is to affirm that -the true measure of all things is not _my_ (_i. e._ the individual -person's) opinion, fancy and will; that what is true, right and good, -does not depend upon my caprice and arbitrary determination, or upon -that of any other empirical subject; but while it is _my_ thinking, it -is my _thinking_, the rational within me, which has to decide upon all -those points. But my thinking, my reason, is not something specially -belonging to me, but something common to every rational being; something -universal, and in so far as I am a rational and thinking being, is my -subjectivity a universal one. But every thinking individual has the -consciousness that what he holds as right, as duty, as good or evil, -does not appear as such to him alone but to every rational being, and -that consequently his thinking has the character of universality, of -universal validity, in a word--of objectivity. This then in opposition to -the Sophistic philosophy is the standpoint of Socrates, and therefore -with him the _philosophy of objective thought_ begins. What Socrates -could do in opposition to the Sophists was to show that reflection led -to the same results as faith or obedience, hitherto without reflection, -had done, and that the thinking man guided by his free consciousness and -his own conviction, would learn to form the same judgments and take the -same course to which life and custom had already and unconsciously -induced the ordinary man. The position, that while the man is the -measure of all things, it is the man as universal, as thinking, as -rational, is the fundamental thought of the Socratic philosophy, which -is, by virtue of this thought, the positive complement of the Sophistic -principle. - -With Socrates begins the second period of the Grecian philosophy. This -period contains three philosophical systems, whose authors, standing to -each other in the personal relation of teacher and pupil, represent -three successive generations,--SOCRATES, PLATO, ARISTOTLE. - - - - -SECTION XII. - -SOCRATES.[2] - - -1. HIS PERSONAL CHARACTER.--The new philosophical principle appears in -the personal character of Socrates. His philosophy is his mode of acting -as an individual; his life and doctrine cannot be separated. His -biography, therefore, forms the only complete representation of his -philosophy, and what the narrative of Xenophon presents us as the -definite doctrine of Socrates, is consequently nothing but an abstract -of his inward character, as it found expression from time to time in his -conversation. Plato yet more regarded his master as such an archetypal -personality, and a luminous exhibition of the historical Socrates is the -special object of his later and maturer dialogues, and of these again, -the Symposium is the most brilliant apotheosis of the Eros incarnated in -the person of Socrates, of the philosophical impulse transformed into -character. - -Socrates was born in the year 469 B. C, the son of Sophroniscus, a -sculptor, and Phænarete, a midwife. In his youth he was trained by his -father to follow his own profession, and in this he is said not to have -been without skill. Three draped figures of the Graces, called the work -of Socrates, were seen by Pausanias, upon the Akropolis. Little farther -is known of his education. He may have profited by the instruction of -Prodicus and the musician, Damon, but he stood in no personal connection -with the proper philosophers, who flourished before, or cotemporaneously -with him. He became what he was by himself alone, and just for this -reason does he form an era in the old philosophy. If the ancients call -him a scholar of Anaxagoras, or of the natural philosopher, Archelaus, -the first is demonstrably false, and the second, to say the least, is -altogether improbable. He never sought other means of culture than those -afforded in his native city. With the exception of one journey to a -public festival, the military campaigns which led him as far as Potidæa, -Delion, and Amphipolis, he never left Athens. - -The period when Socrates first began to devote himself to the education -of youth, can be determined only approximately from the time of the -first representation of the Clouds of Aristophanes, which was in the -year 423. The date of the Delphic oracle, which pronounced him the -wisest of men, is not known. But in the traditions of his followers, he -is almost uniformly represented as an old, or as a gray-headed man. His -mode of instruction, wholly different from the pedantry and boastful -ostentation of the Sophists, was altogether unconstrained, -conversational, popular, starting from objects lying nearest at hand and -the most insignificant, and deriving the necessary illustrations and -proofs from the most common matters of every day life; in fact, he was -reproached by his cotemporaries for speaking ever only of drudges, -smiths, cobblers and tanners. So we find him at the market, in the -gymnasia, in the workshops, busy early and late, talking with youth, -with young men, and with old men, on the proper aim and business of -life, convincing them of their ignorance, and wakening up in them the -slumbering desires after knowledge. In every human effort, whether -directed to the interests of the commonwealth, or to the private -individual and the gains of trade, to science or to art, this master of -helps to spiritual births could find fit points of contact for the -awakening of a true self-knowledge, and a moral and religions -consciousness. However often his attempts failed, or were rejected with -bitter scorn, or requited with hatred and unthankfulness, yet, led on by -the clear conviction that a real improvement in the condition of the -state could come only from a proper education of its youth, he remained -to the last true to his chosen vocation. Purely Greek in these relations -to the rising generation, he designated himself, by preference, as the -most ardent lover; Greek too in this, that with him, notwithstanding -these free relations of friendship, his own domestic life fell quite -into the background. He nowhere shows much regard for his wife and -children; the notorious, though altogether too much exaggerated -ill-nature of Xantippe, leads us to suspect, however, that his domestic -relations were not the most happy. - -As a man, as a practical sage, Socrates is pictured in the brightest -colors by all narrators. "He was," says Xenophon, "so pious, that he did -nothing without the advice of the gods; so just, that he never injured -any one even in the least; so completely master of himself, that he -never chose the agreeable instead of the good; so discerning, that he -never failed in distinguishing the better from the worse;" in short, he -was "just the best and happiest man possible." (Xen. _Mem._ I. 1, 11. -IV. 8, 11.) Still that which lends to his person such a peculiar charm, -is the happy blending and harmonious connection of all its -characteristic traits, the perfection of a beautiful, plastic nature. In -all this universality of his genius, in this force of character, by -which he combined the most contradictory and incongruous elements into a -harmonious whole, in this lofty elevation above every human weakness,--in -a word, as a perfect model, he is most strikingly depicted in the -brilliant eulogy of Alcibiades, in the Symposium of Plato. In the -scantier representation of Xenophon, also, we find everywhere a classic -form, a man possessed of the finest social culture, full of Athenian -politeness, infinitely removed from every thing like gloomy asceticism, -a man as valiant upon the field of battle as in the festive hall, -conducting himself with the most unconstrained freedom, and yet with -entire sobriety and self-control, a perfect picture of the happiest -Athenian time, without the acerbity, the one-sidedness, and contracted -reserve of the later moralists, an ideal representation of the genuinely -human virtues. - -2. SOCRATES AND ARISTOPHANES.--Socrates seems early to have attained -universal celebrity through the peculiarities attaching to his person -and character. Nature had furnished him with a remarkable external -physiognomy. His crooked, turned-up nose, his projecting eye, his bald -pate, his corpulent body, gave his form a striking similarity to the -Silenic, a comparison which is carried out in Xenophon's "Feast," in -sprightly jest, and in Plato's Symposium, with as much ingenuity as -profoundness. To this was added his miserable dress, his going barefoot, -his posture, his often standing still, and rolling his eyes. After all -this, one will hardly be surprised that the Athenian comedy took -advantage of such a remarkable character. But there was another and -peculiar motive, which influenced Aristophanes. He was a most ardent -admirer of the good old times, an enthusiastic eulogist of the manners -and the constitution, under which the fathers had been reared. As it was -his great object to waken up anew in his people, and to stimulate a -longing after those good old times, his passionate hatred broke out -against all modern efforts in politics, art and philosophy, of that -increasing mock-wisdom, which went hand in hand with a degenerating -democracy. Hence comes his bitter railing at Cleon, the Demagogue (in -the _Knights_), at Euripides, the sentimental play-writer (in the -_Frogs_) and at Socrates, the Sophist (in the _Clouds_). The latter, as -the representative of a subtle, destructive philosophy, must have -appeared to him just as corrupt and pernicious, as the party of progress -in politics, who trampled without conscience upon every thing which had -come down from the past. It is, therefore, the fundamental thought of -the Clouds to expose Socrates to public contempt, as the representative -of the Sophistic philosophy, a mere semblance of wisdom, at once vain, -profitless, corrupting in its influence upon the youth, and undermining -all true discipline and morality. Seen in this light, and from a moral -standpoint, the motives of Aristophanes may find some excuse, but they -cannot be justified; and his representation of Socrates, into whose -character all the characteristic features of the Sophistic philosophy -are interwoven, even the most contemptible and hateful, yet so that the -most unmistakable likeness is still apparent, cannot be admitted on the -ground that Socrates did really have the greatest formal resemblance to -the Sophists. The Clouds can only be designated as a culpable -misunderstanding, and as an act of gross injustice brought about by -blinded passion; and Hegel, when he attempts to defend the conduct of -Aristophanes, forgets, that, while the comic writer may caricature, he -must do it without having recourse to public calumniation. In fact all -the political and social tendencies of Aristophanes rest on a gross -misunderstanding of historical development. The good old times, as he -fancies them, are a fiction. It lies just as little in the realm of -possibility, that a morality without reflection, and a homely -ingenuousness, such as mark a nation's childhood, should be forced upon -a time in which reflection has utterly eaten out all immediateness, and -unconscious moral simplicity, as that a grown up man should became a -child again in the natural way. Aristophanes himself attests the -impossibility of such a return, when in a fit of humor, with cynic -raillery, he gives up all divine and human authority to ridicule, and -thereby, however commendable may have been the patriotic motive -prompting him to this comic extravagance, demonstrates, that he himself -no longer stands upon the basis of the old morality, that he too is the -son of his time. - -3. THE CONDEMNATION OF SOCRATES.--To this same confounding of his efforts -with those of the Sophists, and the same tendency to restore by violent -means the old discipline and morality, Socrates, twenty-four years -later, fell a victim. After he had lived and labored at Athens for many -years in his usual manner, after the storm of the Peloponnesian war had -passed by, and this city had experienced the most varied political -fortunes, in his seventieth year he was brought to trial and accused of -neglecting the gods of the state, of introducing new deities, and also -of corrupting the youth. His accusers were Melitus, a young poet, -Anytus, a demagogue, and Lycon, an orator, men in every respect -insignificant, and acting, as it seems, without motives of personal -enmity. The trial resulted in his condemnation. After a fortunate -accident had enabled him to spend thirty days more with his scholars in -his confinement, spurning a flight from prison, he drank the poisoned -cup in the year 399 B. C. - -The first motive to his accusation, as already remarked, was his -identification with the Sophists, the actual belief that his doctrines -and activity were marked with the same character of hostility to the -interests of the state, as those of the Sophists, which had already -occasioned so much mischief. The three points in the accusation, though -evidently resting on a misunderstanding, alike indicate this; they are -precisely those by which Aristophanes had sought to characterize the -Sophist in the person of Socrates. This "corruption of the youth," this -bringing in of new customs, and a new mode of culture and education -generally, was precisely the charge which was brought against the -Sophists; moreover, in Plato's Menon, Anytus, one of the three accusers, -is introduced as the bitter enemy of the Sophists and of their manner of -instruction. So too in respect to the denial of the national gods: -before this, Protagoras, accused of denying the gods, had been obliged -to flee, and Prodicus, to drink hemlock, a victim to the same distrust. -Even five years after the death of Socrates, Xenophon, who was not -present at the trial, felt himself called upon to write his Memorabilia -in defence of his teacher, so wide-spread and deep-rooted was the -prejudice against him. - -Beside this there was also a second, probably a more decisive reason. As -the Sophistic philosophy was, in its very nature, eminently -aristocratic, and Socrates, as a supposed Sophist, consequently passed -for an aristocrat, his entire mode of life could not fail to make him -appear like a bad citizen in the eyes of the restored democracy. He had -never concerned himself in the affairs of the state, had never but once -sustained an official character, and then, as chief of the Prytanes, had -disagreed with the will of the people and the rulers. (_Plat. Apol._ § -32. Xen. _Mem._ I. 1, 18.) In his seventieth year, he mounted the -orator's stand for the first time in his life, on the occasion of his -own accusation. His whole manner was somewhat cosmopolitan; he is even -said to have remarked, that he was not an Athenian, nor a Greek, but a -citizen of the world. We must also take into account, that he found -fault with the Athenian democracy upon every occasion, especially with -the democratic institution of choice by lot, that he decidedly preferred -the Spartan state to the Athenian, and that he excited the distrust of -the democrats by his confidential relations with the former leaders of -the oligarchic party. (Xen. _Mem._ I. 2, 9, sq.) Among others who were -of the oligarchic interest, and friendly to the Spartans, Critias in -particular, one of the thirty tyrants, had been his scholar; so too -Alcibiades--two men, who had been the cause of much evil to the Athenian -people. If now we accept the uniform tradition, that two of his accusers -were men of fair standing in the democratic party, and farther, that his -judges were men who had fled before the thirty tyrants, and later had -overthrown the power of the oligarchy, we find it much more easy to -understand how they, in the case before them, should have supposed they -were acting wholly in the interest of the democratic party, when they -pronounced condemnation upon the accused, especially as enough to all -appearance could be brought against him. The hurried trial presents -nothing very remarkable, in a generation which had grown up during the -Peloponnesian war, and in a people that adopted and repented of their -passionate resolves with the like haste. Yea, more, if we consider that -Socrates spurned to have recourse to the usual means and forms adopted -by those accused of capital crime, and to gain the sympathy of the -people by lamentations, or their favor by flattery, that he in proud -consciousness of his innocence defied his judges, it becomes rather a -matter of wonder, that his condemnation was carried by a majority of -only three to six votes. And even now he might have escaped the sentence -to death, had he been willing to bow to the will of the sovereign people -for the sake of a commutation of his punishment. But as he spurned to -set a value upon himself, by proposing another punishment, a fine, for -example, instead of the one moved by his accuser, because this would be -the same as to acknowledge himself guilty, his disdain could not fail to -exasperate the easily excited Athenians, and no farther explanation is -needed to show why eighty of his judges who had before voted for his -innocence, now voted for his death. Such was the most lamentable -result--a result, afterwards most deeply regretted by the Athenians -themselves--of an accusation, which at the outset was probably only -intended to humble the aristocratic philosopher, and to force him to an -acknowledgment of the power and the majesty of the people. - -Hegel's view of the fate of Socrates, that it was the result of the -collision of equally just powers--the Tragedy of Athens as he calls -it--and that guilt and innocence were shared alike on both sides, cannot -be maintained on historical grounds, since Socrates can neither be -regarded exclusively as the representative of the modern spirit, the -principle of freedom, subjectivity, the concrete personality; nor his -judges, as the representatives of the old Athenian unreflecting -morality. The first cannot be, since Socrates, if his principle was at -variance with the old Greek morality, rested nevertheless so far on the -basis of tradition, that the accusations brought against him in this -respect were false and groundless; and the last cannot be, since at that -time, after the close of the Peloponnesian war, the old morality and -piety had long been wanting to the mass of the people, and given place -to the modern culture, and the whole process against Socrates must be -regarded rather as an attempt to restore by violence, in connection with -the old constitution, the old defunct morality. The fault is not -therefore the same on both sides, and it must be held, that Socrates -fell a victim to a misunderstanding, and to an unjustifiable reaction of -public sentiment. - -4. THE "GENIUS" [Greek: daimonion] OF SOCRATES.--Those traces of the old -religious sentiment, which have been handed down to us from so many -different sources, and are certainly not to be explained from a bare -accommodation to the popular belief, on the part of the philosopher, and -which distinguish him so decidedly from the Sophists, show how little -Socrates is really to be regarded as an innovator in discipline and -morals. He commends the art of divination, believes in dreams, -sacrifices with all proper care, speaks of the gods, of their -omniscience, omnipresence, goodness, and complete sufficiency in -themselves, even with the greatest reverence, and, at the close of his -defence, makes the most solemn asseveration of his belief in their -existence. In keeping with his attaching himself in this way to the -popular religion, his new principle, though in its results hostile to -all external authority, nevertheless assumed the form of the popular -belief in "Demonic" signs and symbols. These suggestions of the "Demon" -are a knowledge, which is at the same time connected with -unconsciousness. They occupy the middle ground between the bare external -of the Greek oracle, and the purely internal of the spirit. That -Socrates had the conception of a particular subject, a personal "Demon," -or "Genius," is altogether improbable. Just as little can these -"Demonic" signs, this inward oracle, whose voice Socrates professed to -hear, be regarded after the modern acceptation, simply as the -personification of the conscience, or of the practical instinct, or of -the individual tact. The first article in the form of accusation, which -evidently refers to this very point, shows that Socrates did not speak -barely metaphorically of this voice, to which he professed to owe his -prophecies. And it was not solely in reference to those higher questions -of decided importance, that Socrates had these suggestions, but rather -and preeminently with respect to matters of mere accident and arbitrary -choice, as for example, whether, and when, his friends should set out on -a journey. It is no longer possible to explain the "Demon" or "Genius" -of Socrates on psychological grounds; there may have been something of a -magnetic character about it. It is possible that there may be some -connection between this and the many other ecstatic or cataleptic -states, which are related of Socrates in the Symposium of Plato. - -5. THE SOURCES OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF SOCRATES.--Well known is the old -controversy, whether the picture of Socrates, drawn by Xenophon or by -Plato, is the most complete and true to history, and which of the two -men is to be considered as the more reliable source for obtaining a -knowledge of his philosophy. This question is being decided more and -more in favor of Xenophon. Great pains has been taken in former as in -later times, to bring Xenophon's Memorabilia into disrepute, as a -shallow and insufficient source, because their plain, and any thing -other than speculative contents, seemed to furnish no satisfactory -ground for such a revolution in the world of mind as is attributed to -Socrates, or for the splendor which invests his name in history, or for -the character which Plato assigns him; because again the Memorabilia of -Xenophon have especially an apologetic aim, and their defence does not -relate so much to the philosopher as to the man; and finally, because -they have been supposed to have the appearance of carrying the -philosophical over into the unphilosophical style of the common -understanding. A distinction has therefore been made between an exoteric -and an esoteric Socrates, obtaining the first from Xenophon, the latter -from Plato. But the preference of Plato to Xenophon has in the first -place no historical right in its favor, since Xenophon appears as a -proper historian and claims historical credibility, while Plato on the -other hand never professes to be an historical narrator, save in a few -passages, and will by no means have all the rest which he puts in the -mouth of Socrates understood as his authentic expressions and discourse. -There is, therefore, no historical reason for preferring the -representation of Socrates which is given by Plato. In the second place, -the under-valuation of Xenophon rests, for the most part, on the false -notion, that Socrates had a proper philosophy, _i. e._ a speculative -system, and on an unhistorical mistaking of the limits by which the -philosophical character of Socrates was conditioned and restricted. -There was no proper Socratic doctrine, but a Socratic life; and, just on -this ground, are the different philosophical tendencies of his scholars -to be explained. - -6. THE UNIVERSAL CHARACTER OF THE PHILOSOPHIZING OF SOCRATES.--The -philosophizing of Socrates was limited and restricted by his opposition, -partly to the preceding, and partly to the Sophistic philosophy. - -Philosophy before the time of Socrates had been in its essential -character investigation of nature. But in Socrates, the human mind, for -the first time, turned itself in upon itself, upon its own being, and -that too in the most immediate manner, by conceiving itself as active, -moral spirit. The positive philosophizing of Socrates, is exclusively of -an ethical character, exclusively an inquiry into the nature of virtue, -so exclusively, and so onesidedly, that, as is wont to be the case upon -the appearance of a new principle, it even expressed a contempt for the -striving of the entire previous period, with its natural philosophy, and -its mathematics. Setting every thing under the standpoint of immediate -moral law, Socrates was so far from finding any object in "irrational" -nature worthy of study, that he rather, in a kind of general -teleological manner, conceived it simply in the light of external means -for the attainment of external ends; yea, he would not even go out to -walk, as he says in the Phædrus of Plato, since one can learn nothing -from trees and districts of country. Self-knowledge, the Delphic [Greek: -gnôthi sauton] appeared to him the only object worthy of a man, as the -starting-point of all philosophy. Knowledge of every other kind, he -pronounced so insignificant and worthless, that he was wont to boast of -his ignorance, and to declare that he excelled other men in wisdom only -in this, that he was conscious of his own ignorance. (Plat. _Ap. S._ 21, -23.) - -The other side of the Socratic philosophizing, is its opposition to the -philosophy of the time. His object, as is well understood, could have -been only this, to place himself upon the same position as that occupied -by the philosophy of the Sophists, and overcome it on its own ground, -and by its own principles. That Socrates shared in the general position -of the Sophists, and even had many features of external resemblance to -them--the Socratic irony, for instance--has been remarked above. Many of -his assertions, particularly these propositions, that no man knowingly -does wrong, and if a man were knowingly to lie, or to do some other -wrong act, still he would be better than he who should do the same -unconsciously, at first sight bear a purely Sophistic stamp. The great -fundamental thought of the Sophistic philosophy, that all moral acting -must be a conscious act, was also his. But whilst the Sophists made it -their object, through subjective reflection to confuse and to break up -all stable convictions, to make all rules relating to outward conduct -impossible, Socrates had recognized thinking as the activity of the -universal principle, free, objective thought as the measure of all -things, and, therefore, instead of referring moral duties, and all moral -action to the fancy and caprice of the individual, had rather referred -all to true knowledge, to the essence of spirit. It was this idea of -knowledge that led him to seek, by the process of thought, to gain a -conceivable objective ground, something real, abiding, absolute, -independent of the arbitrary volitions of the subject, and to hold fast -to unconditioned moral laws. Hegel expresses the same opinion, when he -says that Socrates put morality from ethical grounds, in the place of -the morality of custom and habit. Hegel distinguishes morality, as -conscious right conduct, resting on reflection and moral principles, -from the morality of unsophisticated, half-unconscious virtue, which -rests on the compliance with prevailing custom. The logical condition of -this ethical striving of Socrates, was the determining of conceptions, -the method of their formation. To search out the "what" of every thing -says Xenophon (_Mem._ IV. 6, 1.) was the uninterrupted care of Socrates, -and Aristotle says expressly that a twofold merit must be ascribed to -him, viz.: the forming of the method of induction and the giving of -strictly logical definitions,--the two elements which constitute the -basis of science. How these two elements stand connected with the -principle of Socrates we shall at once see. - -7. THE SOCRATIC METHOD.--We must not regard the Socratic method as we are -accustomed to speak of method in our day, _i. e._ as something which, as -such, was distinctly in his consciousness, and which he abstracted from -every concrete content, but it rather had its growth in the very mode of -his philosophizing, which was not directed to the imparting of a system -but to the education of the subject in philosophical thinking and life. -It is only a subjective technicality for his mode of instruction, the -peculiar manner of his philosophical, familiar life. - -The Socratic method has a twofold side, a negative and a positive one. -The negative side is the well known Socratic _irony_. The philosopher -takes the attitude of ignorance, and would apparently let himself be -instructed by those with whom he converses, but through the questions -which he puts, the unexpected consequences which he deduces, and the -contradictions in which he involves the opposite party, he soon leads -them to see that their supposed knowledge would only entangle and -confuse them. In the embarrassment in which they now find themselves -placed, and seeing that they do not know what they supposed, this -supposed knowledge completes its own destruction, and the subject who -had pretended to wisdom learns to distrust his previous opinions and -firmly held notions. "What we knew, has contradicted itself," is the -refrain of the most of these conversations. - -This result of the Socratic method was only to lead the subject to know -that he knew nothing, and a great part of the dialogues of Xenophon and -Plato go no farther than to represent ostensibly this negative result. -But there is yet another element in his method in which the irony loses -its negative appearance. - -The positive side of the Socratic method is the so-called obstetrics or -art of intellectual midwifery. Socrates compares himself with his mother -Phænarete, a midwife, because his position was rather to help others -bring forth thoughts than to produce them himself, and because he took -upon himself to distinguish the birth of an empty thought from one rich -in its content. (Plato _Theætetus_, p. 149.) Through this art of -midwifery the philosopher, by his assiduous questioning, by his -interrogatory dissection of the notions of him with whom he might be -conversing, knew how to elicit from him a thought of which he had -previously been unconscious, and how to help him to the birth of a new -thought. A chief means in this operation was the method of _induction_, -or the leading of the representation to a conception. The philosopher, -thus, starting from some individual, concrete case, and seizing hold of -the most common notions concerning it, and finding illustrations in the -most ordinary and trivial occurrences, knew how to remove by his -comparisons that which was individual, and by thus separating the -accidental and contingent from the essential, could bring up to -consciousness a universal truth and a universal determination,--in other -words, could form conceptions. In order _e. g._ to find the conception -of justice or valor, he would start from individual examples of them, -and from these deduce the universal character or conception of these -virtues. From this we see that the direction of the Socratic induction -was to gain logical _definitions_. I define a conception when I develope -what it is, its essence, its content. I define the conception of justice -when I set up the common property and logical unity of all its different -modes of manifestation. Socrates sought to go no farther than this. "To -seek for the essence of virtue," says an Aristotelian writing (_Eth._ I. -5), "Socrates regarded as the problem of philosophy, and hence, since he -regarded all virtue as a knowing, he sought to determine in respect of -justice or valor what they might really be, _i. e._ he investigated -their essence or conception." From this it is very easy to see the -connection which his method of definitions or of forming conceptions had -with his practical strivings. He went back to the conception of every -individual virtue, _e. g._ justice, only because he was convinced that -the knowledge of this conception, the knowledge of it for every -individual case, was the surest guide for every moral relation. Every -moral action, he believed, should start as a conscious action from the -conception. - -From this we might characterize the Socratic method as the skill by -which a certain sum of given, homogeneous and individual phenomena was -taken, and their logical unity, the universal principle which lay at -their base, inductively found. This method presupposes the recognition -that the essence of the objects must be comprehended in the thought, -that the conception is the true being of the thing. Hence we see that -the Platonic doctrine of ideas is only the objectifying of this method -which in Socrates appears no farther than a subjective dexterity. The -Platonic ideas are the universal conceptions of Socrates posited as real -individual beings. Hence Aristotle (_Metaph._ XIII. 4) most fittingly -characterizes the relation between the Socratic method and the Platonic -doctrine of ideas with the words, "Socrates posits the universal -conceptions not as separate, individual substances, while Plato does -this, and names them ideas." - -8. THE SOCRATIC DOCTRINE CONCERNING VIRTUE.--The single, positive -doctrinal sentence which has been transmitted us from Socrates is, that -virtue is a knowing,--that, consequently, nothing is good which happens -without discernment, and nothing bad which is done with discernment, or, -what is the same thing, that no man is voluntarily vicious, that the -base are such against their will, aye, even he who knowingly does wrong -is better than he who does it ignorantly, because in the latter case, -morality and true knowledge are both wanting, while in the former--if -such a case could happen--morality alone is violated. Socrates could not -conceive how a man should know the good and yet not do it; it was to him -a logical contradiction that the man who sought his own well being -should at the same time knowingly despise it. Therefore, with him the -good action followed as necessarily from the knowledge of the good as a -logical conclusion from its premise. - -The sentence that virtue is a knowing, has for its logical consequence -the unity of virtue and for its practical consequence the teachableness -of it. With these three propositions, in which every thing is embraced -which we can properly term the Socratic philosophy, Socrates has laid -the first foundation stone for a scientific treatment of ethics, a -treatment which must be dated first from him. But he laid only the -foundation stone, for on the one side he attempted no carrying out of -his principle into details, nor any setting up of a concrete doctrine of -ethics, but only, after the ancient manner, referred to the laws of -states and the unwritten laws of the universal human order, and on the -other side, he has not seldom served himself with utilitarian motives to -establish his ethical propositions, in other words he has referred to -the external advantages and useful consequences of virtue, by which the -purity of his ethical point of view became tarnished. - - - - -SECTION XIII. - -THE PARTIAL DISCIPLES OF SOCRATES. - - -1. THEIR RELATION TO THE SOCRATIC PHILOSOPHY.--The death of Socrates gave -to his life an ideal perfection, and this became an animating principle -which had its working in many directions. The apprehension of him as an -ideal type forms the common character of the immediate Socratic schools. -The fundamental thought, that men should have one universal and -essentially true aim, they all received from Socrates; but since their -master left no complete and systematic doctrine, but only his many-sided -life to determine the nature of this aim, every thing would depend upon -the subjective apprehension of the personal character of Socrates, and -of this we should at the outset naturally expect to find among his -different disciples a different estimate. Socrates had numerous -scholars, but no school. Among these, three views of his character have -found a place in history. That of _Antisthenes_, or the Cynical, that of -_Aristippus_, or the Cyrenian, and that of _Euclid_, or the -Megarian--three modes of apprehending him, each of which contains a true -element of the Socratic character, but all of which separate that which -in the master was a harmonious unity, and affirm of the isolated -elements that which could be truly predicated only of the whole. They -are therefore, one-sided, and give of Socrates a false picture. This, -however, was not wholly their fault; but in that Aristippus was forced -to go back to the theory of knowledge of Protagoras, and Euclid to the -metaphysics of the Eleatics, they rather testify to the subjective -character and to the want of method and system of the Socratic -philosophy, and exhibit in their defects and one-sidedness, in part, -only the original weakness which belongs to the doctrine of their -master. - -2. ANTISTHENES AND THE CYNICS.--As a strictly literal adherent of the -doctrine of Socrates, and zealously though grossly, and often with -caricature imitating his method, Antisthenes stands nearest his master. -In early life a disciple of Gorgias, and himself a teacher of the -Sophistic philosophy, he subsequently became an inseparable attendant of -Socrates, after whose death he founded a school in the Cynosarges, -whence his scholars and adherents took the name of Cynics, though -according to others this name was derived from their mode of life. The -doctrine of Antisthenes is only an abstract expression for the Socratic -ideal of virtue. Like Socrates he considered virtue the final cause of -men, regarding it also as knowledge or science, and thus as an object of -instruction; but the ideal of virtue as he had beheld it in the person -of Socrates was realized in his estimation only in the absence of every -need (in his appearance he imitated a beggar with staff and scrip) and -hence in the disregarding of all former intellectual interests; virtue -with him aims only to avoid evil, and therefore has no need of -dialectical demonstrations, but only of Socratic vigor; the wise man, -according to him, is self-sufficient, independent of every thing, -indifferent in respect of marriage, family, and the public life of -society, as also in respect of wealth, honor, and enjoyment. In this -ideal of Antisthenes, which is more negative than positive, we miss -entirely the genial humanity and the universal susceptibility of his -master, and still more a cultivation of those fruitful dialectic -elements which the Socratic philosophizing contained. With a more -decided contempt for all knowledge, and a still greater scorn of all the -customs of society, the later Cynicism became frequently a repulsive and -shameful caricature of the Socratic spirit. This was especially the case -with Diogenes of Sinope, the only one of his disciples whom Antisthenes -suffered to remain with him. In their high estimation of virtue and -philosophy these Cynics, who have been suitably styled the Capuchins of -the Grecian world, preserved a trace of the original Socratic -philosophy, but they sought virtue "in the shortest way," in a life -according to nature as they themselves expressed it, that is, in -shutting out the outer world, in attaining a complete independence, and -absence of every need, and in renouncing art and science as well as -every determinate aim. To the wise man said they nothing should go -amiss; he should be mighty over every need and desire, free from the -restraints of civil law and of custom, and of equal privileges with the -gods. An easy life, said Diogenes, is assigned by the gods to that man -who limits himself to his necessities, and this true philosophy may be -attained by every one, through perseverance and the power of -self-denial. Philosophy and philosophical interest is there none in this -school of beggars. All that is related of Diogenes are anecdotes and -sarcasms. - -We see here how the ethics of the Cynic school lost itself in entirely -negative statements, a consequence naturally resulting from the fact -that the original Socratic conception of virtue lacked a concrete -positive content, and was not systematically carried out. Cynicism is -the negative side of the Socratic doctrine. - -3. ARISTIPPUS AND THE CYRENIANS.--Aristippus of Cyrene, numbered till the -death of Socrates among his adherents, is represented by Aristotle as a -Sophist, and this with propriety, since he received money for his -instructions. He appears in Xenophon as a man devoted to pleasure. The -adroitness with which he adapted himself to every circumstance, and the -knowledge of human nature by which in every condition he knew how to -provide means to satisfy his desire for good living and luxury, were -well known among the ancients. Brought in contact with the government, -he kept himself aloof from its cares lest he should become dependent; he -spent most of his time abroad in order to free himself from every -restraint; he made it his rule that circumstances should be dependent -upon him, while he should be independent of them. Though such a man -seems little worthy of the name of a Socraticist, yet has he two points -of contact with his master which should not be overlooked. Socrates had -called virtue _and_ happiness coordinately the highest end of man, _i. -e._ he had indeed asserted most decidedly the idea of a moral action, -but because he brought this forward only in an undeveloped and abstract -form, he was only able in concrete cases to establish the obligation of -the moral law in a utilitarian way, by appealing to the benefit -resulting from the practice of virtue. This side of the Socratic -principle Aristippus adopted for his own, affirming that pleasure is the -ultimate end of life, and the highest good. Moreover, this pleasure, as -Aristippus regards it, is not happiness as a condition embracing the -whole life, nor pleasure reduced to a system, but is only the individual -sensation of pleasure which the body receives, and in this all -determinations of moral worth entirely disappear; but in that Aristippus -recommends knowledge, self-government, temperance, and intellectual -culture as means for acquiring and preserving enjoyment, and, therefore, -makes a cultivated mind necessary to judge respecting a true -satisfaction, he shows that the Socratic spirit was not yet wholly -extinguished within him, and that the name of pseudo-Socraticist which -Schleiermacher gives him, hardly belongs to him. - -The other leaders of the Cyrenian school, _Hegesias_, _Theodorus_, -_Anniceris_, we can here only name. The farther development of this -school is wholly occupied in more closely defining the nature of -pleasure, _i. e._ in determining whether it is to be apprehended as a -momentary sensation, or as an enduring condition embracing the whole -life; whether it belonged to the mind or the body, whether an isolated -individual could possess it, or whether it is found alone in the social -relations of life; whether we should regard it as positive or negative, -(_i. e._ simply the absence of pain). - -4. EUCLID AND THE MEGARIANS.--The union of the dialectical and the -ethical is a common character in all the partial Socratic schools; the -difference consists only in this, that in the one the ethical is made to -do service to the dialectical, and that in the other, the dialectical -stands in subjection to the ethical. The former is especially true of -the Megarian school, whose essential peculiarity was pointed out by the -ancients themselves as a combination of the Socratic and Eleatic -principles. The idea of the good is on the ethical side the same as the -idea of being on the physical; it was, therefore, only an application to -ethics of the Eleatic view and method when Euclid called the good pure -being, and the not-good, not-being. What is farther related of Euclid is -obscure, and may here be omitted. The Megarian school was kept up under -different leaders after his death, but without living force, and without -the independent activity of an organic development. As hedonism (the -philosophical doctrine of the Cyreneans that pleasure is the chief good) -led the way to the doctrine of Epicurus, and cynicism was the bridge -toward the Stoic, so the later Megaric development formed the transition -point to scepticism. Directing its attention ever more exclusively -towards the culture of the formal and logical method of argument, it -left entirely out of view the moral thoughts of Socrates. Its -sophistries and quiddities which were, for the most part, only plays of -word and wit, were widely known and noted among the ancients. - -5. PLATO, AS THE COMPLETE SOCRATICIST.--The attempts thus far to build -upon the foundation pillars of the Socratic doctrine, started without a -vigorous germinating principle, and ended fruitlessly. Plato was the -only one of his scholars who has approached and represented _the whole_ -Socrates. Starting from the Socratic idea of knowledge he brought into -one focus the scattered elements and rays of truth which could be -collected from his master or from the philosophers preceding him, and -gave to philosophy a systematic completeness. Socrates had affirmed the -principle that conception is the true being and the only actual, and had -urged to a knowledge according to the conception; but these positions -were no farther developed. His philosophy is not yet a system, but is -only the first impulse toward a philosophical development and method. -Plato is the first who has approached a systematic representation and -development of the ideal world of conceptions true in themselves. - -The Platonic system is Socrates objectified, the blending and -reconciling of preceding philosophy. - - - - -SECTION XIV. - -PLATO. - - -I. PLATO'S LIFE. 1. His YOUTH.--Plato, the son of Aristo, of a noble -Athenian family, was born in the year 429 B. C. It was the year of the -death of Pericles, the second year of the Peloponnesian war, so fatal to -Athens. Born in the centre of Grecian culture and industry, and -descended from an old and noble family, he received a corresponding -education, although no farther tidings of this have been transmitted to -us, than the insignificant names of his teachers. That the youth growing -up under such circumstances should choose the seclusion of a philosophic -life rather than a political career may seem strange, since many and -favorable opportunities for the latter course lay open before him. -Critias, one of the thirty tyrants, was the cousin of his mother, and -Charmides, who subsequently, under the oligarchic rule at Athens, found -his death at Thrasybulus on the same day with Critias, was his uncle. -Notwithstanding this, he is never known to have appeared a single time -as a public speaker in the assembly of the people. In view of the rising -degeneracy and increasing political corruption of his native land, he -was too proud to court for himself the favor of the many-headed _Demos_; -and more attached to Doricism than to the democracy and practice of the -Attic public life, he chose to make science his chief pursuit, rather -than as a patriot to struggle in vain against unavoidable disaster, and -become a martyr to his political opinions. He regarded the Athenian -state as lost, and to hinder its inevitable ruin he would not bring a -useless offering. - -2. HIS YEARS OF DISCIPLINE.--A youth of twenty, Plato came to Socrates, -in whose intercourse he spent eight years. Besides a few doubtful -anecdotes, nothing is known more particularly of this portion of his -history. In Xenophon's Memorabilia (III. 6) Plato is only once cursorily -mentioned, but this in a way that indicates an intimate relation between -the scholar and his master. Plato himself in his dialogues has -transmitted nothing concerning his personal relations to Socrates; only -once (_Phæd._ p. 59) he names himself among the intimate friends of -Socrates. But the influence which Socrates exerted upon him, how he -recognized in him the complete representation of a wise man, how he -found not only in his doctrine but also in his life and action the most -fruitful philosophic germs, the significance which the personal -character of his master as an ideal type had for him--all this we learn -with sufficient accuracy from his writings, where he places his own -incomparably more developed philosophical system in the mouth of his -master, whom he makes the centre of his dialogues and the leader of his -discourses. - -3. HIS YEARS OF TRAVEL.--After the death of Socrates 399 B. C, in the -thirtieth year of his age, Plato, fearing lest he also should be met by -the incoming reaction against philosophy, left, in company with other -Socraticists, his native city, and betook himself to Euclid, his former -fellow-scholar, the founder of the Megaric school (_cf._ § XIII. 4) at -Megara. Up to this time a pure Socraticist, he became greatly animated -and energized by his intercourse with the Megarians, among whom a -peculiar philosophical direction, a modification of Socraticism, was -already asserted. We shall see farther on the influence of this -residence at Megara upon the foundation of his philosophy, and -especially upon the elaboration and confirmation of his doctrine of -Ideas. One whole period of his literary activity and an entire group of -his dialogues, can only be satisfactorily explained by the intellectual -stimulus gained at this place. From Megara, Plato visited Cyrene, Egypt, -Magna-Grecia and Sicily. In Magna-Grecia he became acquainted with the -Pythagorean philosophy, which was then in its highest bloom. His abode -among the Pythagoreans had a marked effect upon him; as a man it made -him more practical, and increased his zest for life and his interest in -public life and social intercourse; as a philosopher it furnished him -with a new incitement to science, and new motives to literary labor. The -traces of the Pythagorean philosophy may be seen through all the last -period of his literary life; especially his aversion to public and -political life was greatly softened by his intercourse with the -Pythagoreans. While in the Theatætus, he affirmed most positively the -incompatibility of philosophy with public life, we find in his later -dialogues, especially in the Republic and also in the Statesman--upon -which Pythagoreanism seems already to have had an influence--a returning -favor for the actual world, and the well-known sentence that the ruler -must be a philosopher is an expression very characteristic of this -change. His visit to Sicily gave him the acquaintance of the elder -Dionysius and Dion his brother-in-law, but the philosopher and the -tyrant had little in common. Plato is said to have incurred his -displeasure to so high a degree, that his life was in danger. After -about ten years spent in travel, he returned to Athens in the fortieth -year of his age, (389 or 388 B. C.) - -4. PLATO AS HEAD OF THE ACADEMY; HIS YEARS OF INSTRUCTION.--On his -return, Plato surrounded himself with a circle of pupils. The place -where he taught was known as the academy, a gymnasium outside of Athens -where Plato had inherited a garden from his father. Of his school and of -his later life, we have only the most meagre accounts. His life passed -evenly along, interrupted only by a second and third visit to Sicily, -where meanwhile the younger Dionysius had come to the throne. This -second and third residence of Plato at the court of Syracuse abounds in -vicissitudes, and shows us the philosopher in a great variety of -conditions (_cf._ Plutarch's _Life of Dion_); but to us, in estimating -his philosophical character, it is of interest only for the attempt, -which, as seems probable from all accounts, he there made to realize his -ideal of a moral state, and by the philosophical education of the new -ruler to unite philosophy and the reins of government in one and the -same hand, or at least in some way by means of philosophy to achieve a -healthy change in the Sicilian state constitution. His efforts were -however fruitless; the circumstances were not propitious, and the -character of the young Dionysius, who was one of those mediocre natures -who strive after renown and distinction, but are capable of nothing -profound and earnest, deceived the expectations concerning him which -Plato, according to Dion's account, thought he had reason to entertain. - -When we look at Plato's philosophical labors in the academy, we are -struck with the different relations to public life which philosophy -already assumes. Instead of carrying philosophy, like Socrates, into the -streets and public places and making it there a subject of social -conversation with any one who desired it, he lived and labored entirely -withdrawn from the movements of the public, satisfied to influence the -pupils who surrounded him. In precisely the measure in which philosophy -becomes a system and the systematic form is seen to be essential, does -it lose its popular character and begin to demand a scientific training, -and to become a topic for the school, an esoteric affair. Yet such was -the respect for the name of a philosopher, and especially for the name -of Plato, that requests were made to him by different states to compose -for them a book of laws, a work which in some instances it was said was -actually performed. Attended by a retinue of devoted disciples, among -whom were even women disguised as men, and receiving reiterated -demonstrations of respect, he reached the age of eighty-one years, with -his powers of mind unweakened to the latest moment. - -The close of his life seems to have been clouded by disturbances and -divisions which arose in his school under the lead of Aristotle. Engaged -in writing, or as others state it at a marriage feast, death came upon -him as a gentle sleep, 348 B. C. His remains were buried in the -Ceramicus, not far from the academy. - -II. THE INNER DEVELOPMENT OF THE PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY AND WRITINGS.--That -the Platonic philosophy has a real development, that it should not be -apprehended as a perfectly finished system to which the different -writings stand related as constituent elements, but that these are -rather steps of this inner development, as it were stages passed over in -the philosophical journeyings of the philosopher--is a view of the -highest importance for the true estimate of Plato's literary labors. - -Plato's philosophical and literary labors may be divided into three -periods, which we can characterize in different ways. Looking at them in -a chronological or biographical respect, we might call them respectively -the periods of his years of discipline, of travel, of instruction, or if -we view them in reference to the prevailing external influence under -which they were formed, they might be termed the Socratic, -Heraclitic-Eleatic, and the Pythagorean; or if we looked at the content -alone, we might term them the Anti-Sophistic-Ethic, the Dialectic or -mediating, and the systematic or constructive periods. - -THE FIRST PERIOD--the Socratic--is marked externally by the predominance -of the dramatic element, and in reference to its philosophical -standpoint, by an adherence to the method and the fundamental principles -of the Socratic doctrine. Not yet accurately informed of the results of -former inquiries, and rather repelled from the study of the history of -philosophy than attracted to it by the character of the Socratic -philosophizing, Plato confined himself to an analytical treatment of -conceptions, particularly of the conception of virtue, and to a -reproducing of his master, which, though something more than a mere -recital of verbal recollections, had yet no philosophical independence. -His Socrates exhibits the same view of life and the same scientific -standpoint which the historical Socrates of Xenophon had had. His -efforts were thus, like those of his contemporary fellow disciples, -directed prominently toward practical wisdom. His conflicts however, -like those of Socrates, had far more weight against the prevailing want -of science and the shallow sophisms of the day than for the opposite -scientific directions. The whole period bears an eclectic and hortatory -character. The highest point in which the dialogues of this group -culminate is the attempt which at the same time is found in the Socratic -doctrine to determine the certainty of an absolute content (of an -objective reality) to the good. - -The history of the development of the Platonic philosophy would assume a -very different form if the view of some modern scholars respecting the -date of the Phædrus were correct. If, as they claim, the Phædrus were -Plato's earliest work, this circumstance would betray from the outset an -entirely different course of culture for him than we could suppose in a -mere scholar of Socrates. The doctrine in this dialogue of the -pre-existence of souls, and their periodical transmigrations, of the -relation of earthly beauty with heavenly truth, of divine inspiration in -contrast to human wisdom, the conception of love,--these and other -Pythagorean ingredients are all so distinct from the original Socratic -doctrine that we must transfer the most of that which Plato has -creatively produced during his whole philosophical career, to the -beginning of his philosophical development. The improbability of this, -and numerous other grounds of objection, claim a far later composition -for this dialogue. Setting aside for the present the Phædrus, the -Platonic development assumes the following form: - -Among the earliest works (if they are genuine) are the small dialogues -which treat of Socratic questions and themes in a Socratic way. Of these -_e. g._ the Charmides discusses temperance, the Lysis friendship, the -Laches valor, the lesser Hippias knowing and wilful wrong-doing, the -first Alcibiades, the moral and intellectual qualifications of a -statesman, &c. The immaturity and the crudeness of these dialogues, the -use of scenic means which have only an external relation to the content, -the scantiness and want of independence in the content, the indirect -manner of investigation which lacks a satisfactory and positive result, -the formal and analytical treatment of the conceptions discussed--all -these features indicate the early character of these minor dialogues. - -The Protagoras may be taken as a proper type of the Socratic period. -Since this dialogue, though directing its whole polemic against the -Sophistic philosophy, confined itself almost exclusively to the outward -manifestation of this system, to its influence on its age and its method -of instruction in opposition to that of Socrates, without entering into -the ground and philosophical character of the doctrine itself, and, -still farther, since, when it comes in a strict sense to philosophize, -it confines itself, in an indirect investigation, to the Socratic -conception of virtue according to its different sides (virtue as -knowing, its unity and its teachableness, _cf._ § XII. 8,)--it represents -in the clearest manner the tendency, character and want of the first -period of Plato's literary life. - -The Gorgias, written soon after the death of Socrates, represents the -third and highest stage of this period. Directed against the Sophistical -identification of pleasure and virtue, of the good and of the agreeable, -_i. e._ against the affirmation of an absolute moral relativity, this -dialogue maintains the proof that the good, far from owing its origin -only to the right of the stronger, and thus to the arbitrariness of the -subject, has in itself an independent reality and objective validity, -and, consequently, alone is truly useful, and thus, therefore, the -measure of pleasure must follow the higher measure of the good. In this -direct and positive polemic against the Sophistic doctrine of pleasure, -in its tendency to a view of the good as something firm and abiding, and -secure against all subjective arbitrariness, consists prominently the -advance which the Gorgias makes over the Protagoras. - -In the first Socratic period the Platonic philosophizing became ripe and -ready for the reception of Eleatic and Pythagorean categories. To -grapple by means of these categories with the higher questions of -philosophy, and so to free the Socratic philosophy from its so close -connection with practical life, was the task of the second period. - -THE SECOND PERIOD--the dialectic or the Megaric--is marked externally, by -a less prominence of form and poetic contemplation, and not unfrequently -indeed, by obscurity and difficulties of style, and internally, by the -attempt to give a satisfactory mediation for the Eleatic doctrine and a -dialectic foundation for the doctrine of ideas. - -By his exile at Megara, and his journeys to Italy, Plato became -acquainted with other and opposing philosophical directions, from which -he must now separate himself in order to elevate the Socratic doctrine -to its true significance. It was now that he first learned to know the -philosophic theories of the earlier sages, for whose study the necessary -means could not at that period, so wanting in literary publicity, be -found at Athens. By his separation from these varying standpoints, as -his older fellow pupils had already striven to do, he attempted striding -over the narrow limits of ethical philosophizing, to reach the final -ground of knowing, and to carry out the art of forming conceptions as -brought forward by Socrates, to a science of conceptions, _i. e._ to the -doctrine of ideas. That all human acting depends upon knowing, and that -all thinking depends upon the conception, were results to which Plato -might already have attained through the scientific generalization of the -Socratic doctrine itself, but now to bring this Socratic wisdom within -the circle of speculative thinking, to establish dialectically that the -conception in its simple unity is that which abides in the change of -phenomena, to disclose the fundamental principles of knowledge which had -been evaded by Socrates, to grasp the scientific theories of the -opposers direct in their scientific grounds, and follow them out in all -their ramifications,--this is the problem which the Megaric family of -dialogues attempts to solve. - -The Theatætus stands at the head of this group. This is chiefly directed -against the Protagorean theory of knowledge, against the identification -of the thinking and the sensible perception, or against the claim of an -objective relativity of all knowledge. As the Gorgias before it had -sought to establish the independent being of the ethical, so does the -Theatætus ascending from the ethical to the theoretical, endeavor to -prove an independent being and objective reality for the logical -conceptions which lie at the ground of all representation and thinking, -in a word, to prove the objectivity of truth, the fact that there lies a -province of thought immanent in the thinking and independent of the -perceptions of the senses. These conceptions, whose objective reality is -thus affirmed, are those of a species, likeness and unlikeness, sameness -and difference, &c. - -The Theatætus is followed by the trilogy of the Sophist, the Statesman, -and the Philosopher, which completes the Megaric group of dialogues. The -first of these dialogues examines the conception of appearance, that is -of the not-being, the last (for which the Parmenides may be taken) the -conception of being. Both dialogues are especially directed to the -Eleatic doctrine. After Plato had recognized the conception in its -simple unity as that which abides in the change of phenomena, his -attention was naturally turned towards the Eleatics, who in an opposite -way had attained the similar result that in unity consists all true -substantiality, and to multiplicity as such no true being belongs. In -order more easily on the one side to carry out this fundamental thought -of the Eleatic to its legitimate result, in which the Megarians had -already preceded him, he was obliged to give a metaphysical substance to -his abstract conceptions of species, _i. e._ ideas. But on the other -side, he could not agree with the inflexibility and exclusiveness of the -Eleatic unity, unless he would wholly sacrifice the multiplicity of -things; he was rather obliged to attempt to show by a dialectic -development of the Eleatic principle that the one must be at the same -time a totality, organically connected, and embracing multiplicity in -itself. This double relation to the Eleatic principle is carried out by -the Sophist and the Parmenides; by the former polemically against the -Eleatic doctrine, in that it proves the being of the appearance or the -not-being, and by the latter pacifically, in that it analyzes the -Eleatic one by its own logical consequences into many. The inner -progress of the doctrine of Ideas in the Megaric group of dialogues is -therefore this, viz., that the Theatætus, in opposition to the -Heraclitico-Protagorean theory of the absolute becoming, affirms the -objective and independent reality of ideas, and the Sophist shows their -reciprocal relation and combining qualities, while the Parmenides in -fine exhibits their whole dialectic completeness with their relation to -the phenomenal world. - -THE THIRD PERIOD begins with the return of the philosopher to his native -city. It unites the completeness of form belonging to the first with the -profounder characteristical content belonging to the second. The -memories of his youthful years seem at this time to have risen anew -before the soul of Plato, and to have imparted again to his literary -activity the long lost freshness and fulness of that period, while at -the same time his abode in foreign lands, and especially his -acquaintance with the Pythagorean philosophy, had greatly enriched his -mind with a store of images and ideals. This reviving of old memories is -seen in the fact that the writings of this group return with fondness to -the personality of Socrates, and represent in a certain degree the whole -philosophy of Plato as the exaltation of the doctrine and the ideal -embodiment of the historical character of his early master. In -opposition to both of the first two periods, the third is marked -externally by an excess of the mythical form connected with the growing -influence of Pythagoreanism in this period, and internally by the -application of the doctrine of ideas to the concrete spheres of -psychology, ethics and natural science. That ideas possess objective -reality, and are the foundation of all essentiality and truth, while the -phenomena of the sensible world are only copies of these, was a theory -whose vindication was no longer attempted, but which was presupposed as -already proved, and as forming a dialectical basis for the pursuit of -the different branches of science. With this was connected a tendency to -unite the hitherto separate branches of science into a systematic whole, -as well as to mould together the previous philosophical directions, and -show the inner application of the Socratic philosophy for ethics, of the -Eleatic for dialectics, and the Pythagorean for physics. - -Upon this standpoint, the Phædrus, Plato's inaugural to his labors in -the Academy, together with the Symposium, which is closely connected -with it, attempts to subject the rhetorical theory and practice of their -time to a thorough criticism, in order to show in opposition to this -theory and practice, that the fixedness and stability of a true -scientific principle could only be attained by grounding every thing on -the idea. On the same standpoint the Phædon attempts to prove the -immortality of the soul from the doctrine of ideas; the Philebus to -bring out the conception of pleasure and of the highest good; the -Republic to develop the essence of the state, and the Timæus that of -nature. - -Having thus sketched the inner development of the Platonic philosophy, -we now turn to a systematic statement of its principles. - -III.--CLASSIFICATION OF THE PLATONIC SYSTEM.--The philosophy of Plato, as -left by himself, is without a systematic statement, and has no -comprehensive principle of classification. He has given us only the -history of his thinking, the statement of his philosophical development; -we are therefore limited in reference to his classification of -philosophy to simple intimations. Accordingly, some have divided the -Platonic system into theoretical and practical science, and others into -a philosophy of the good, the beautiful and the true. Another -classification, which has some support in old records, is more correct. -Some of the ancients say that Plato was the first to unite in one whole -the scattered philosophical elements of the earlier sages, and so to -obtain for philosophy the three parts, logic, physics, and ethics. The -more accurate statement is given by _Sextus Empiricus_, that Plato has -laid the foundation for this threefold division of philosophy, but that -it was first expressly recognized and affirmed by his scholars, -Xenocrates and Aristotle. The Platonic system may, however, without -difficulty, be divided into these three parts. True, there are many -dialogues which mingle together in different proportions the logical, -the ethical, and the physical element, and though even where Plato -treats of some special discipline, the three are suffered constantly to -interpenetrate each other, still there are some dialogues in which this -fundamental scheme can be clearly recognized. It cannot be mistaken that -the Timæus has predominantly a physical, and the Republic as decidedly -an ethical element, and if the dialectic is expressly represented in no -separate dialogue, yet does the whole Megaric group pursue the common -end of bringing out the conception of science and its true object, -being, and is, therefore, in its content decidedly dialectical. Plato -must have been led to this threefold division by even the earlier -development of philosophy, and though Xenocrates does not clearly see -it, yet since Aristotle presupposes it as universally admitted, we need -not scruple to make it the basis on which to represent the Platonic -system. - -The order which these different parts should take, Plato himself has not -declared. Manifestly, however, dialectics should have the first place as -the ground of all philosophy, since Plato uniformly directs that every -philosophical investigation should begin with accurately determining the -_idea_ (_Phæd._ p. 99. Phædr. p. 237), while he subsequently examines -all the concrete spheres of science on the standpoint of the doctrine of -ideas. The relative position of the other two parts is not so clear. -Since, however, the physics culminates in the ethics, and the ethics, on -the other hand, has for its basis physical investigations into the -ensouling power in nature, we may assign to physics the former place of -the two. - -The mathematical sciences Plato has expressly excluded from philosophy. -He considers them as helps to philosophical thinking (_Rep._ VII. 526), -as necessary steps of knowledge, without which no one can come to -philosophy (_Ib._ VI. 510); but mathematics with him is not philosophy, -for it assumes its principles or axioms, without at all accounting for -them, as though they were manifest to all, a procedure which is not -permitted to pure science; it also serves itself for its demonstrations, -with illustrative figures, although it does not treat of these, but of -that which they represent to the understanding (_Ib._). Plato thus -places mathematics midway between a correct opinion and science, clearer -than the one, but more obscure than the other. (_Ib._ VII. 533.) - -IV. THE PLATONIC DIALECTICS. 1. CONCEPTION OF DIALECTICS.--The conception -of dialectics or of logic, is used by the ancients for the most part in -a very wide sense, while Plato employs it in repeated instances -interchangeably with philosophy, though on the other hand he treats it -also as a separate branch of philosophy. He divides it from physics as -the science of the eternal and unchangeable from the science of the -changeable, which never is, but is only ever becoming; he distinguishes -also between it and ethics, so far as the latter treats of the good not -absolutely, but in its concrete exhibition in morals and in the state; -so that dialectics may be termed philosophy in a higher sense, while -physics and ethics follow it as two less exact sciences, or as a not yet -perfected philosophy. Plato himself defines dialectics, according to the -ordinary signification of the word, as the art of developing knowledge -by way of dialogue in questions and answers. (_Rep._ VII. 534). But -since the art of communicating correctly in dialogue is according to -Plato, at the same time the art of thinking correctly, and as thus -thinking and speaking could not be separated by the ancients, but every -process of thought was a living dialogue, so Plato would more accurately -define dialectics as the science which brings speech to a correct issue, -and which combines or separates the species, _i. e._ the conceptions of -things correctly with one another. (_Soph._ p. 253. _Phædr._ p. 266). -Dialectics with him has two divisions, to know what can and what cannot -be connected, and to know how division or combination can be. But as -with Plato these conceptions of species or ideas are the only actual and -true existence, so have we, in entire conformity with this, a third -definition of dialectics (_Philebus_ p. 57), as the science of being, -the science of that which is true and unchangeable, the science of all -other sciences. We may therefore briefly characterize it as the science -of absolute being or of ideas. - -2. WHAT IS SCIENCE? (1.) _As opposed to sensation and the sensuous -representation._--The Theatætus is devoted to the discussion of this -question in opposition to the Protagorean sensualism. That all knowledge -consists in perception, and that the two are one and the same thing, was -the Protagorean proposition. From this it followed, as Protagoras -himself had inferred, that things are, as they appear to me, that the -perception or sensation is infallible. But since perception and -sensation are infinitely diversified with different individuals, and -even greatly vary in the same individual, it follows farther, that there -are no objective determinations and predicates, that we can never affirm -what a thing is in itself, that all conceptions, great, small, light, -heavy, to increase, to diminish, &c., have only a relative significance, -and consequently, also, the conceptions of species, as combinations of -the changeful many, are wholly wanting in constancy and stability. In -opposition to this Protagorean thesis, Plato urges the following -objections and contradictions. _First._ The Protagorean doctrine leads -to the most startling consequences. If being and appearance, knowledge -and perception are one and the same thing, then is the irrational brute, -which is capable of perception, as fully entitled to be called the -measure of all things, as man, and if the representation is infallible, -as the expression of my subjective character at a given time, then need -there be no more instruction, no more scientific conclusion, no more -strife, and no more refutation. _Second._ The Protagorean doctrine is a -logical contradiction; for according to it Protagoras must yield the -question to every one who disputes with him, since, as he himself -affirms, no one is incorrect, but every one judges only according to -truth; the pretended truth of Protagoras is therefore true for no man, -not even for himself. _Third._ Protagoras destroys the knowledge of -future events. That which I may regard as profitable may not therefore -certainly prove itself as such in the result. To determine that which is -really profitable implies a calculation of the future, but since the -ability of men to form such a calculation is very diverse, it follows -from this that not man as such, but only the wise man can be the measure -of things. _Fourth._ The theory of Protagoras destroys perception. -Perception, according to him, rests upon a distinction of the perceived -object and the perceiving subject, and is the common product of the two. -But in his view the objects are in such an uninterrupted flow, that they -can neither become fixed in seeing nor in hearing. This condition of -constant change renders all knowledge from sense, and hence (the -identity of the two being assumed), all knowledge impossible. _Fifth._ -Protagoras overlooks the apriori element in knowledge. It is seen in an -analysis of the sense-perception itself, that all knowledge cannot be -traced to the activity of the senses, but that there must also be -presupposed besides these, intellectual functions, and hence an -independent province of supersensible knowledge. We see with the eyes, -and hear with the ears, but to group together the perceptions attained -through these different organs, and to hold them fast in the unity of -self-consciousness, is beyond the power of the activity of the senses. -Again, we compare the different sense-perceptions with one another, a -function which cannot belong to the senses, since each sense can only -furnish its own distinctive perception. Still farther, we bring forward -determinations respecting the perceptions which we manifestly cannot owe -to the senses, in that we predicate of these perceptions, being and -not-being, likeness and unlikeness, &c. These determinations, to which -also belong the beautiful and the odious, good and evil, constitute a -peculiar province of knowledge, which the soul, independently of every -sense-perception, brings forward through its own independent activity. -The ethical element of this Plato exhibits in his attack upon -sensualism, and also in other dialogues. He maintains (_in the -Sophist_), that men holding such opinions must be improved before they -can be instructed, and that when made morally better, they will readily -recognize the truth of the soul and its moral and rational capacities, -and affirm that these are real things, though objects of neither sight -nor of feeling. - -(2.) _The Relation of Knowing to Opinion._--Opinion is just as little -identical with knowing as is the sense-perception. An incorrect opinion -is certainly different from knowing, and a correct one is not the same, -for it can be engendered by the art of speech without therefore -attaining the validity of true knowledge. The correct opinion, so far as -it is true in matter though imperfect in form, stands rather midway -between knowing and not-knowing, and participates in both. - -(3.) _The Relation of Science to Thinking._--In opposition to the -Protagorean sensualism, we have already referred to an energy of the -soul independent of the sensuous perception and sensation, competent in -itself to examine the universal, and grasp true being in thought. There -is, therefore, a double source of knowledge, sensation and rational -thinking. Sensation refers to that which is conceived in the constant -becoming and perpetual change, to the pure momentary, which is in an -incessant transition from the was, through the now, into the shall be -(_Parm._ p. 152); it is, therefore, the source of dim, impure, and -uncertain knowledge; thinking on the other hand refers to the abiding, -which neither becomes nor departs, but remains ever the same. (_Tim._ p. -51.) Existence, says the Timæus (p. 27) is of two kinds, "that which -ever is but has no becoming, and that which ever becomes but never is. -The one kind, which is always in the same state, is comprehended through -reflection by the reason, the other, which becomes and departs, but -never properly is, may be apprehended by the sensuous perception without -the reason." True science, therefore, flows alone from that pure and -thoroughly internal activity of the soul which is free from all -corporeal qualities and every sensuous disturbance. (_Phæd._ p. 65.) In -this state the soul looks upon things purely as they are (_Phæd._ p. 66) -in their eternal being and their unchangeable condition. Hence the true -state of the philosopher is announced in the Phædon (p. 64) to be a -willingness to die, a longing to fly from the body, as from a hinderance -to true knowledge, and become pure spirit. According to all this, -science is the thinking of true being or of ideas; the means to discover -and to know these ideas, or the organ for their apprehension is the -dialectic, as the art of separating and combining conceptions; the true -objects of dialectics are ideas. - -3. THE DOCTRINE OF IDEAS IN ITS GENESIS.--The Platonic doctrine of ideas -is the common product of the Socratic method of forming conceptions, the -Heraclitic doctrine of absolute becoming, and the Eleatic doctrine of -absolute being. To the first of these Plato owes the idea of a knowing -through conceptions, to the second the recognition of the becoming in -the field of the sensuous, to the third the position of a field of -absolute reality. Elsewhere (_in the Philebus_) Plato connects the -doctrine of ideas with the Pythagorean thought that every thing may be -formed from unity and multiplicity, from the limit and the unlimited. -The aim of the Theatætus, the Sophist, and the Parmenides is to refute -the principles of the Eleatics and Heraclitics: this refutation is -effected in the Theatætus by combating directly the principle of an -absolute becoming, in the Sophist by combating directly the principle of -abstract being, and in the Parmenides by taking up the Eleatic one and -showing its true relations. We have already spoken of the Theatætus; we -will now look for the development of the doctrine of ideas in the -Sophist and Parmenides. - -The ostensible end of the former of these dialogues is to show that the -Sophist is really but a caricature of the philosopher, but its true end -is to fix the reality of the appearance, _i. e._ of the not-being, and -to discuss speculatively the relation of being and not-being. The -doctrine of the Eleatics ended with the rejection of all sensuous -knowledge, declaring that what we receive as the perception of a -multiplicity of things or of a becoming is only an appearance. In this -the contradiction was clear, the not-being was absolutely denied, and -yet its existence was admitted in the notion of men. Plato at once draws -attention to this contradiction, showing that a delusive opinion, which -gives rise to a false image or representation, is not possible, since -the whole theory rests upon the assumption that the false, the not-true, -_i. e._ not-being cannot even be thought. This, Plato continues, is the -great difficulty in thinking of not-being, that both he who denies and -he who affirms its reality is driven to contradict himself. For though -it is inexpressible and inconceivable either as one or as many, still, -when speaking of it, we must attribute to it both being and -multiplicity. If we admit that there is such a thing as a false opinion, -we assume in this very fact the notion of not-being, for only that -opinion can be said to be false which supposes either the not-being to -be, or makes that, which is not, to be. In short, if there actually -exists a false notion, so does there actually and truly exist a -not-being. After Plato had thus fixed the reality of not-being, he -discusses the relation of being and not-being, _i. e._ the relation of -conceptions generally in their combinations and differences. If -not-being has no less reality than being, and being no more than -not-being, if, therefore, _e. g._ the not-great is as truly real as the -great, then every conception may be apprehended according to its -opposite sides as being and not-being at the same time: it is a being in -reference to itself, as something identical with itself, but it is -not-being in reference to every one of the numberless other conceptions -which can be referred to it, and with which, on account of its -difference from them, it can have nothing in common. The conception of -the same [Greek: tauton] and the different [Greek: thateron] represent -the general form of an antithesis. These are the universal formulæ of -combination for all conceptions. This reciprocal relation of conceptions -as at the same time being and not-being, by virtue of which they can be -arranged among themselves, forms now the basis for the art of -dialectics, which has to judge what conceptions can and what cannot be -joined together. Plato illustrates here by taking the conceptions of -being, motion (becoming), and rest (existence), and showing what are the -results of the combinations of these ideas. The conceptions of motion -and rest cannot well be joined together, though both of them may be -joined with that of being, since both are; the conception of rest is -therefore in reference to itself a being, but in reference to the -conception of motion a not-being or different. Thus the Platonic -doctrine of ideas, after having in the Theatætus attained its general -foundation in fixing the objective reality of conceptions, becomes now -still farther developed in the Sophist to a doctrine of the agreement -and disagreement of conceptions. The category which conditions these -reciprocal relations is that of not-being or difference. This -fundamental thought of the Sophist, that being is not without not-being -and not-being is not without being, may be expressed in modern -phraseology thus: negation is not not-being but determinateness, and on -the other hand all determinateness and concreteness of conceptions, or -every thing affirmative can be only through negation; in other words the -conception of contradiction is the soul of a philosophical method. - -The doctrine of ideas appears in the Parmenides as the positive -consequence and progressive development of the Eleatic principle. Indeed -in this dialogue, in that Plato makes Parmenides the chief speaker, he -seems willing to allow that his doctrine is in substance that of the -Eleatic sage. True, the fundamental thought of the dialogue--that the one -is not conceivable in its complete singleness without the many, nor the -many without the one, that each necessarily presupposes and reciprocally -conditions the other--stands in the most direct contradiction to -Eleaticism. Yet Parmenides himself, by dividing his poem into two parts, -and treating in the first of the one and in the second of the many, -postulates an inner mediation between these two externally so disjointed -parts of his philosophy, and in this respect the Platonic theory of -ideas might give itself out as the farther elimination, and the true -sense of the Parmenidean philosophizing. This dialectical mediation -between the one and the not-one or the many Plato now attempts in four -antinomies, which have ostensibly only a negative result in so far as -they show that contradictions arise both whether the one be adopted or -rejected. The positive sense of these antinomies, though it can be -gained only through inferences which Plato himself does not expressly -utter, but leaves to be drawn by the reader--is as follows. The first -antinomy shows that the one is inconceivable as such since it is only -apprehended in its abstract opposition to the many; the second, that in -this case also the reality of the many is inconceivable; the third, that -the one or the idea cannot be conceived as not-being, since there can be -neither conception nor predicate of the absolute not-being, and since, -if not-being is excluded from all fellowship with being, all becoming -and departing, all similarity and difference, every representation and -explanation concerning it must also be denied; and lastly, the fourth -affirms that the not-one or the many cannot be conceived without the one -or the idea. What now is Plato's aim in this discussion of the dialectic -relations between the conceptions of the one and the many? Would he use -the conception of the one only as an example to explain his dialectic -method with conceptions, or is the discussion of this conception itself -the very object before him? Manifestly the latter, or the dialogue ends -without result and without any inner connection of its two parts. But -how came Plato to make such a special investigation of this conception -of the one? If we bear in mind that the Eleatics had already perceived -the antithesis of the actual and the phenomenal world in the antithesis -of the one and the many, and that Plato himself had also regarded his -ideas as the unity of the manifold, as the one and the same in the -many--since he repeatedly uses "idea" and "the one" in the same sense, -and places (_Rep._ VII. 537) dialectics in the same rank with the -faculty of bringing many to unity--then is it clear that the one which is -made an object of investigation in the Parmenides is the idea in its -general sense, _i. e._ in its logical form, and that Plato consequently -in the dialectic of the one and the many would represent the dialectic -of the idea and the phenomenal world, or in other words would -dialectically determine and establish the correct view of the idea as -the unity in the manifoldness of the phenomenal. In that it is shown in -the Parmenides, on the one side, that the many cannot be conceived -without the one, and on the other side, that the one must be something -which embraces in itself manifoldness, so have we the ready inference on -the one side, that the phenomenal world, or the many, has a true being -only in so far as it has the one or the conception within it, and on the -other side, that since the conception is not an abstract one but -manifoldness in unity, it must actually have manifoldness in unity in -order to be able to be in the phenomenal world. The indirect result of -the Parmenides is that matter as the infinitely divisible and -undetermined mass has no actuality, but is in relation to the ideal -world a not-being, and though the ideas as the true being gain their -appearance in it, yet the idea itself is all that is actual in the -appearance or phenomenon; the phenomenal world derives its whole -existence from the ideal world which appears in it, and has a being only -so far as it has a conception or idea for its content. - -4. POSITIVE EXPOSITION OF THE DOCTRINE OF IDEAS.--Ideas may be defined -according to the different sides of their historical connection, as the -common in the manifold, the universal in the particular, the one in the -many, or the constant and abiding in the changing. Subjectively they are -principles of knowing which cannot be derived from experience they are -the intuitively certain and innate regulators of our knowledge. -Objectively they are the immutable principles of being and of the -phenomenal world, incorporeal and simple unities which have no relation -to space, and which may be predicated of every independent thing. The -doctrine of ideas grew originally out of the desire to give a definite -conception to the inner essence of things, and make the real world -conceivable as a harmoniously connected intellectual world. This desire -of scientific knowledge Aristotle cites expressly as the motive to the -Platonic doctrine of ideas. "Plato," he says (_Metaph._ XIII. 4), "came -to the doctrine of ideas because he was convinced of the truth of the -Heraclitic view which regarded the sensible world as a ceaseless flowing -and changing. His conclusion from this was, that if there be a science -of any thing there must be, besides the sensible, other substances which -have a permanence, for there can be no science of the fleeting." It is, -therefore, the idea of science which demands the reality of ideas, a -demand which cannot be granted unless an idea or conception is also the -ground of all being. This is the case with Plato. According to him there -can be neither a true knowing nor a true being without ideas and -conceptions which have an independent reality. - -What now does Plato mean by idea? From what has already been said it is -clear that he means something more than ideal conceptions of the -beautiful and the good. An idea is found, as the name itself ([Greek: -eidos]) indicates, wherever a universal conception of a species or kind -is found. Hence Plato speaks of the idea of a bed, table, strength, -health, voice, color, ideas of simple relations and properties, ideas of -mathematical figures, and even ideas of not-being, and of that, which in -its essence only contradicts the idea, baseness and vice. In a word, we -may put an idea wherever many things may be characterized by a common -name (_Rep._ X. 596): or as Aristotle expresses it (_Met._ XII. 3). -Plato places an idea to every class of being. In this sense Plato -himself speaks in the beginning of the Parmenides. Parmenides asks the -young Socrates what he calls ideas. Socrates answers by naming -unconditionally the moral ideas, the ideas of the true, the beautiful, -the good, and then after a little delay he mentions some physical ones, -as the ideas of man, of fire, of water; he will not allow ideas to be -predicated of that which is only a formless mass, or which is a part of -something else, as hair, mud and clay, but in this he is answered by -Parmenides, that if he would be fully imbued with philosophy, he must -not consider such things as these to be wholly despicable, but should -look upon them as truly though remotely participating in the idea. Here -at least the claim is asserted that no province of being is excluded -from the idea, that even that which appears most accidental and -irrational is yet a part of rational knowledge, in fact that every thing -existing may be brought within a rational conception. - -5. THE RELATION OF IDEAS TO THE PHENOMENAL WORLD. Analogous to the -different definitions of idea are the different names which Plato gives -to the sensible and phenomenal world. He calls it the many, the -divisible, the unbounded, the undetermined and measureless, the -becoming, the relative, great and small, not-being. The relation now in -which these two worlds of sense and of ideas stand to each other is a -question which Plato has answered neither fully nor consistently with -himself. His most common way is to characterize the relation of things -to conceptions as a participant, or to call things the copies and -adumbrations, while ideas are the archetypes. Yet this is so indefinite -that Aristotle properly says that to talk in this way is only to use -poetical metaphors. The great difficulty of the doctrine of ideas is not -solved but only increased by these figurative representations. The -difficulty lies in the contradiction which grows out of the fact that -while Plato admits the reality of the becoming and of the province of -the becoming, he still affirms that ideas which are substances ever at -rest and ever the same are the only actual. Now in this Plato is -formally consistent with himself, while he characterizes the _matériel_ -of matter not as a positive substratum but as not-being, and guards -himself with the express affirmation that he does not consider the -sensible as being, but only as something similar to being. (_Rep._ X. -597.) The position laid down in the Parmenides is also consistent with -this, that a perfect philosophy should look upon the idea as the -cognizable in the phenomenal world, and should follow it out in the -smallest particulars until every part of being should be known and all -dualism removed. In fine, Plato in many of his expressions seems to -regard the world of sensation only as a subjective appearance, as a -product of the subjective notion, as the result of a confused way of -representing ideas. In this sense the phenomena are entirely dependent -on ideas; they are nothing but the ideas themselves in the form of not -being; the phenomenal world derives its whole existence from the ideal -world which appears in it. But yet when Plato calls the sensible a -mingling of the same with the different or the not-being (_Tim._ p. 35), -when he characterizes the ideas as vowels which go through every thing -like a chain (_Soph._ p. 253), when he himself conceives the possibility -that matter might offer opposition to the formative energy of ideas -(_Tim._ p. 56), when he speaks of an evil soul of the world (_de Leg._ -X. 896), and gives intimations of the presence in the world of a -principle in nature hostile to God (_Polit._ p. 268), when he in the -Phædon treats of the relation between body and soul as one wholly -discordant and malignant,--in all this there is evidence enough, even -after allowing for the mythical form of the Timæus, and the rhetorical -composition which prevails in the Phædon, to substantiate the -contradiction mentioned above. This is most clear in the Timæus. Plato -in this dialogue makes the sensible world to be formed by a Creator -after the pattern of an idea, but in this he lays down as a condition -that this Demi-urge or Creator should find at hand a something which -should be apt to receive and exhibit this ideal image. This something -Plato compares to the matter which is fashioned by the artisan (whence -the later name _hyle_). He characterizes it as wholly undetermined and -formless, but possessing in itself an aptitude for every variety of -forms, an invisible and shapeless thing, a something which it is -difficult to characterize, and which Plato even does not seem inclined -very closely to describe. In this the actuality of matter is denied; -while Plato makes it equivalent to space it is only the place, the -negative condition of the sensible while it possesses a being only as it -receives in itself the ideal form. Still matter remains the objective -and phenomenal form of the idea: the visible world arises only through -the mingling of ideas with this substratum, and if matter be -metaphysically expressed as "the different," then does it follow with -logical necessity in a dialectical discussion that it is just as truly -being as not-being. Plato does not conceal from himself this difficulty, -and therefore attempts to represent with comparisons and images this -presupposition of a _hyle_ which he finds it as impossible to do without -as to express in a conceivable form. If he would do without it he must -rise to the conception of an absolute creation, or consider matter as an -ultimate emanation from the absolute spirit, or else explain it as -appearance only. Thus the Platonic system is only a fruitless struggle -against dualism. - -6. THE IDEA OF THE GOOD AND THE DEITY. If the true and the real is -exhibited in general conceptions which are so related to each other that -every higher conception embraces and combines under it several lower, so -that any one starting from a single idea may eventually discover all -(_Meno._ p. 81), then must the sum of ideas form a connected organism -and succession in which the lower idea appears as a stepping-stone and -presupposition to a higher. This succession must have its end in an idea -which needs no higher idea or presupposition to sustain it. This highest -idea, the ultimate limit of all knowledge, and itself the independent -ground of all other ideas, Plato calls the idea of the good, _i. e._ not -of the moral but of the metaphysical good. (_Rep._ VII. 517.) - -What this good is in itself, Plato undertakes to show only in images. -"In the same manner as the sun," he says in the Republic (VI. 506), "is -the cause of sight, and the cause not merely that objects are visible -but also that they grow and are produced, so the good is of such power -and beauty, that it is not merely the cause of science to the soul, but -is also the cause of being and reality to whatever is the object of -science, and as the sun is not itself sight or the object of sight but -presides over both, so the good is not science and truth but is superior -to both, they being not the good itself but of a goodly nature." The -good has unconditioned worth, and gives to every other thing all the -value it possesses. The idea of the good excludes all presupposition. It -is the ultimate ground at the same time of knowing and of being, of the -perceiver and the perceived, of the subjective and the objective, of the -ideal and the real, though exalted itself above such a division. (_Rep._ -VI. 508-517.) Plato, however, has not attempted a derivation of the -remaining ideas from the idea of the good; his course here is wholly an -empirical one; a certain class of objects are taken, and having referred -these to their common essence this is given out as their idea. He has -treated the individual conceptions so independently, and has made each -one so complete in itself, that it is impossible to find a proper -division or establish an immanent continuation of one into another. - -It is difficult to say precisely what relation this idea of the good -bore to the Deity in the Platonic view. Taking every thing together it -seems clear that Plato regarded the two as identical, but whether he -conceived this highest cause to be a personal being or not is a question -which hardly admits of a definite answer. The logical result of his -system would exclude the personality of God. If only the universal (the -idea) is the true being, then can the only absolute idea, the Deity, be -only the absolute universal; but that Plato was himself conscious of -this logical conclusion we can hardly affirm, any more than we can say -on the other hand that he was clearly a theist. For whenever in a -mythical or popular statement he speaks of innumerable gods, this only -indicates that he is speaking in the language of the popular religion, -and when he speaks in an accurate philosophical sense, he only makes the -relation of the personal deity with the idea a very uncertain one. Most -probable, therefore, is it that this whole question concerning the -personality of God was not yet definitely before him, that he took up -the religious idea of God and defended it in ethical interest against -the anthropomorphism of the mythic poets, that he sought to establish it -by arguments drawn from the evidences of design in nature, and the -universal prevalence of a belief in a God, while as a philosopher he -made no use of it. - -V. THE PLATONIC PHYSICS. 1. NATURE.--The connection between the Physics -and the Dialectics of Plato lies principally in two points--the -conception of becoming, which forms the chief property of nature, and -that of real being, which is at once the all sufficient and good, and -the true end of all becoming. Because nature belongs to the province of -irrational sensation we cannot look for the same accuracy in the -treatment of it, as is furnished in dialectics. Plato therefore applied -himself with much less zest to physical investigations than to those of -an ethical or dialectical character, and indeed only attended to them in -his later years. Only in one dialogue, the Timæus, do we find any -extended evolution of physical doctrines, and even here Plato seems to -have gone to his work with much less independence than his wont, this -dialogue being more strongly tinctured with Pythagoreanism than any -other of his writings. The difficulty of the Timæus is increased by the -mythical form on which the old commentators themselves have stumbled. If -we take the first impression that it gives us, we have, before the -creation of the world, a Creator as a moving and a reflecting principle, -with on the one side the ideal world existing immovable as the eternal -archetype, and on the other side, a chaotic, formless, irregular, -fluctuating mass, which holds in itself the germ of the material world, -but has no determined character nor substance. With these two elements -the Creator now blends the world-soul which he distributes according to -the relation of numbers, and sets it in definite and harmonious motion. -In this way the material world, which has become actual through the -arrangement of the chaotic mass into the four elements, finds its -external frame, and the process thus begun is completed in its external -structure by the formation of the organic world. - -It is difficult to separate the mythical and the philosophical elements -in this cosmogony of the Timæus, especially difficult to determine how -far the historical construction, which gives a succession in time to the -acts of creation, is only a formal one, and also how far the affirmation -that matter is absolutely a not-being can be harmonized with the general -tenor of Plato's statements. The significance of the world-soul is -clearer. Since the soul in the Platonic system is the mean between -spirit and body, and as in the same way mathematical relations, in their -most universal expression as numbers, are the mean between mere sensuous -existence and the pure idea (between the one and the many as Plato -expresses it), it would seem clear that the world-soul, construed -according to the relation of numbers, must express the relation of the -world of ideas to that of sense, in other words, that it denotes the -sensible world as a thought represented in the form of material -existence. The Platonic view of nature, in opposition to the mechanical -attempts to explain it of the earlier philosophers, is entirely -teleological, and based upon the conception of the good, or, on the -moral idea. Plato conceives the world as the image of the good, as the -work of the divine munificence. As it is the image of the perfect it is -therefore only one, corresponding to the idea of the single -all-embracing substance, for an infinite number of worlds is not to be -conceived as actual. For the same reason the world is spherical, after -the most perfect and uniform structure, which embraces in itself all -other forms; its movement is in a circle, because this, by returning -into itself, is most like the movement of reason. The particular points -of the Timæus, the derivation of the four elements, the separation of -the seven planets according to the musical scale, the opinion that the -stars were immortal and heavenly substances, the affirmation that the -earth holds an abiding position in the middle of the world, a view which -subsequently became elaborated to the Ptolemaic system, the reference of -all material figures to the triangle as the simplest plane figure, the -division of inanimate nature, according to the four elements, into -creatures of earth, water, and air, his discussions respecting organic -nature, and especially respecting the construction of the human body--all -these we need here only mention. Their philosophical worth consists not -so much in their material content, but rather in their fundamental idea, -that the world should be conceived as the image and the work of reason, -as an organism of order, harmony, and beauty, as the good actualizing -itself. - -2. THE SOUL.--The doctrine of the soul, considering it simply as the -basis of a moral action, and leaving out of view all questions of -concrete ethics, forms a constituent element in the Platonic physics. -Since the soul is united to the body, it participates in the motions and -changes of the body, and is, in this respect, related to the perishable. -But in so far as it participates in the knowledge of the eternal, _i. -e._ in so far as it knows ideas, does there live within it a divine -principle--reason. Accordingly, Plato distinguishes two components of the -soul--the divine and the mortal, the rational and the irrational. These -two are united by an intermediate link, which Plato calls [Greek: -thymos] or spirit, and which, though allied to reason is not reason -itself, since it is often exhibited in children and also in brutes, and -since even men are often carried away by it without reflection. This -threefoldness, here exhibited psychologically, is found, in different -applications, through all the last general period of Plato's literary -life. Based upon the anthropological triplicate of reason, soul and -body, it corresponds also to the division of theoretical knowledge into -science (or thinking), correct opinions (or sense-perception), and -ignorance, to the triple ladder of eroticism in the Symposium and the -mythological representation connected with this of Poros, Eros, and -Penia; to the metaphysical triplicate of the ideal world, mathematical -relations and the sensible world; and furnishes ground for deriving the -ethical division of virtue and the political division of ranks. - -So far as the soul is a mean between the spiritual and corporeal, may we -connect the Phædon's proofs of its immortality with the psychological -view now before us. The common thought of these arguments is that the -soul, in its capacity for thinking, participates in the reason, and -being thus of an opposite nature to, and uncontrolled by the corporeal, -it may have an independent existence. The arguments are wholly -analytical, and possess no valid and universal proof; they proceed -entirely upon a _petitio principii_, they are derived partly from -mythical philosophemes, and manifest not only an obscure conception of -the soul, but of its relations to the body and the reason, and, so far -as the relation of the soul to the ideal world is in view, they furnish -in the best case only some proof for the immortality of him who has -raised his soul to a pure spirit, _i. e._ the immortality of the -philosopher. Plato was not himself deceived as to the theoretical -insufficiency of his arguments. Their number would show this, and, -besides, he expressly calls them proofs which amount to only human -probability, and furnish practical postulates alone. With this view he -introduces at the close of his arguments the myth of the lower world, -and the state of departed souls, in order, by complying with the -religious notions, and traditions of his countrymen, to gain a positive -support for belief in the soul's immortality. Elsewhere Plato also -speaks of the lower world, and of the future rewards and punishments of -the good and the evil, in accordance with the popular notions, as though -he saw the elements of a divine revelation therein; he tells of -purifying punishment in Hades, analogous to a purgatory; he avails -himself of the common notion to affirm that shades still subject to the -corporeal principle will hover after death over their graves, seeking to -recover their lifeless bodies, and at times he dilates upon the -migration of the soul to various human and brute forms. On the whole, we -find in Plato's proofs of immortality, as in his psychology generally, -that dualism, which here expresses itself as hatred to the corporeal, -and is connected with the tendency to seek the ultimate ground of evil -in the nature of the "different" and the sensible world. - -VI. THE PLATONIC ETHICS.--The ground idea of the good, which in physics -served only as an inventive conception, finds now, in the ethics, its -true exhibition. Plato has developed it prominently according to three -sides, as good, as individual virtue, and as ethical world in the state. -The conception of duty remains in the background with him as with the -older philosophers. - -1. GOOD AND PLEASURE.--That the highest good can be nothing other than -the idea of the good itself, has already been shown in the dialectics, -where this idea was suffered to appear as the ultimate end of all our -striving. But since the dialectics represent the supreme good as -unattainable by human reason, and only cognizable in its different modes -of manifestation, we can, therefore, only follow these different -manifestations of the highest good, which represent not the good itself, -but the good in becoming, where it appears as science, truth, beauty, -virtue, &c. We are thus not required to be equal to God, but only like -him (_Theæt._) It is this point of view which lies at the basis of the -graduated table of good, given in the Philebus. - -In seeking the highest good, the conception of pleasure must be -investigated. The Platonic standpoint here is the attempt to strike a -balance between Hedonism, (the Cyrenian theory that pleasure is the -highest good, _cf._ § XIII. 3), and Cynicism. While he will not admit -with Aristippus that pleasure is the true good, neither will he find it -as the Cynics maintain, simply in the negation of its contrary, pain, -and thus deny that it belongs to the good things of human life. He finds -his refutation of Hedonism in the indeterminateness and relativity of -all pleasure, since that which at one time may seem as pleasure, under -other circumstances may appear as pain; and since he who chooses -pleasure without distinction, will find impure pleasures always combined -in his life with more or less of pain; his refutation of Cynicism he -establishes by showing the necessary connection between virtue and true -pleasure, showing that there is a true and enduring pleasure, the -pleasure of reason, found in the possession of truth and of goodness, -while a rational condition separate from all pleasure, cannot be the -highest good of a finite being. It is most prominently by this -distinction of a true and false, of a pure and impure pleasure, that -Plato adjusts the controversy of the two Socratic schools.--A detailed -exhibition of the Philebus we must here omit.--On the whole, in the -Platonic apprehension of pleasure, we cannot but notice that same -vacillation with which Plato every where treats of the relation between -the corporeal and the spiritual, at one time considering the former as a -hindrance to the latter, and at another as its serving instrument; now, -regarding it as a concurring cause to the good, and then, as the ground -of all evil; here, as something purely negative, and there, as a -positive substratum which supports all the higher intellectual -developments; and in conformity with this, pleasure is also considered -at one time as something equivalent to a moral act, and to knowledge, -and at another as the means and accidental consequence of the good. - -2. VIRTUE.--In his theory of virtue, Plato is wholly Socratic. He holds -fast to the opinion that it is science (_Protagoras_), and therefore, -teachable (_Meno_), and as to its unity, it follows from the dialectical -principle that the one can be manifold, or the manifold one, that, -therefore, virtue must both be regarded as one, and also in a different -respect, as many. Plato thus brings out prominently the union and -connection of all virtues, and is fond of painting, especially in the -introductory dialogues, some single virtue as comprising in itself the -sum of all the rest. Plato follows for the most part the fourfold -division of virtues, as popularly made; and first, in the Republic (IV. -441), he attempts a scientific derivation of them, by referring to each -of the three parts of the soul its appropriate virtue. The virtue of the -reason he calls prudence or wisdom, the directing or measuring virtue, -without whose activity valor would sink to brute impulse, and calm -endurance to stupid indifference; the virtue of spirit is valor, the -help-meet of reason, or spirit ([Greek: Thymos]) penetrated by science, -which in the struggle against pleasure and pain, desire and fear, -preserves the rational intelligence against the alarms with which -sensuous desires, would seek to sway the soul; the virtue of the -sensuous desires, and which has to reduce these within true and proper -grounds, is temperance, and that virtue in fine to which belong the due -regulation and mutual adjustment of the several powers of the soul, and -which, therefore, constitutes the bond and the unity of the three other -virtues, is justice. - -In this last conception, that of justice, all the elements of moral -culture meet together and centre, exhibiting the moral life of the -individual as a perfect whole, and then, by requiring an application of -the same principle to communities, the moral consideration is advanced -beyond the narrow circle of individual life. Thus is established the -whole of the moral world--Justice "in great letters," the moral life in -its complete totality, is the state. In this is first actualized the -demand for the complete harmony of the human life. In and through the -state comes the complete formation of matter for the reason. - -3. THE STATE.--The Platonic state is generally regarded as an ideal or -chimera, which it is impracticable to realize among men. This view of -the case has even been ascribed to Plato, and it has been said that in -his _Republic_ he attempted to sketch only a fine ideal of a state -constitution, while in the _Laws_ he traced out a practicable philosophy -of the state from the standpoint of the common consciousness. But in the -first place, this was not Plato's true meaning. Although he acknowledges -that the state he describes cannot be found on earth, and has its -archetype only in heaven, by which the philosopher ought to form himself -(IX. 592), still he demands that efforts should be made to realize it -here, and he even attempts to show the conditions and means under which -such a state could be made actual, not overlooking in all this the -defects arising from the different characters and temperaments of men. A -composition, dissociated from the idea, could only appear untrue to a -philosopher like Plato, who saw the actual and the true only in the -idea; and the common view which supposes that he wrote his Republic in -the full consciousness of its impracticability, mistakes entirely the -standpoint of the Platonic philosophy. Still farther the question -whether such a state as the Platonic is attainable and the best, is -generally perverted. The Platonic state is the Grecian state-idea given -in a narrative form. It is no vain and powerless ideal to picture the -idea as a rational principle in every moment of the world's history, -since the idea itself is that which is absolutely actual, that which is -essential and necessary in existing things. The truly ideal _ought_ not -to be actual, but _is_ actual, and the only actual; if an idea were too -good for existence, or the empirical actuality too bad for it, then were -this a fault of the ideal itself. Plato has not given himself up merely -to abstract theories, the philosopher cannot leap beyond his age, but -can only see and grasp it in its true content. This Plato has done. His -standpoint is his own age. He looks upon the political life of the -Greeks as then existing, and it is this life, exalted to its idea, which -forms the real content of the Platonic Republic. Plato has here -represented the Grecian morality in its substantial condition, If the -Platonic Republic seems prominently an ideal which can never be -realized, this is owing much less to its ideality than to the defects of -the old political life. The most prominent characteristic of the -Hellenic conception of the state, before the Greeks began to fall into -unbridled licentiousness, was the constraint thrown upon personal -subjective freedom, in the sacrifice of every individual interest to the -absolute sovereignty of the state. With Plato also, the state is every -thing. His political institutions, so loudly ridiculed by the ancients, -are only the undeniable consequences following from the very idea of the -Grecian state, which allowed neither to the individual citizen nor to a -corporation, any lawful sphere of action independent of itself. - -The grand feature of the Platonic state is, as has been said, the -exclusive sacrifice of the individual to the state, the reference of -moral to political virtue. Since man cannot reach his complete -development in isolation, but only as a member of an organic society -(the state), Plato therefore concludes that the individual purpose -should wholly conform to the general aim, and that the state must -represent a perfect and harmonious unity, and be a counterpart of the -moral life of the individual. In a perfect state all things, joy and -sorrow, and even eyes, ears and hands, must be common to all, so that -the social life would be as it were the life of one man. This perfect -universality and unity, can only be actualized when every thing -individual and particular falls away, and hence the difficulty of the -Platonic Republic. Private property and domestic life (in place of which -comes a community of goods and of wives), the duty of education, the -choice of rank and profession, the arts and sciences, all these must be -subjected and placed under the exclusive and absolute control of the -state. The individual may lay claim only to that happiness which belongs -to him as a constituent element of the state. From this point Plato goes -down into the minutest particulars, and gives the closest directions -respecting gymnastics and music, which form the two means of culture of -the higher ranks; respecting the study of mathematics, and philosophy, -the choice of stringed instruments, and the proper measure of verse; -respecting bodily exercise and the service of women in war; respecting -marriage settlements, and the age at which any one should study -dialectics, marry, and beget children. The state with him is only a -great educational establishment, a family in the mass.--Lyric poetry he -would allow only under the inspection of competent judges. Epic and -dramatic poetry, even Homer and Hesiod, should be banished from the -state, since they rouse and lead astray the passions, and give unworthy -representations of the gods. Exhibitions of physical degeneracy or -weakness should not be tolerated in the Platonic state; deformed and -sickly infants should be abandoned, and food and attention should be -denied to the sick.--In all this we find the chief antithesis of the -ancient to the modern state. Plato did not recognize the will and choice -of the individual, and yet the individual has a right to demand this. -The problem of the modern state has been to unite these two sides, to -bring the universal end and the particular end of the individual into -harmony, to reconcile the highest possible freedom of the conscious -individual will, with the highest possible supremacy of the state. - -The political institutions of the Platonic state are decidedly -aristocratic. Grown up in opposition to the extravagances of the -Athenian democracy, Plato prefers an absolute monarchy to every other -constitution, though this should have as its absolute ruler only the -perfect philosopher. It is a well-known expression of his, that the -state can only attain its end when philosophers become its rulers, or -when its present rulers have carried their studies so far and so -accurately, that they can unite philosophy with a superintendence of -public affairs (V. 473). His reason for claiming that the sovereign -power should be vested only in one, is the fact that very few are -endowed with political wisdom. This ideal of an absolute ruler who -should be able to lead the state perfectly, Plato abandons in the -_Laws_, in which work he shows his preference for a mixed constitution, -embracing both a monarchical and an aristocratic element. From the -aristocratic tendency of the Platonic ideal of a state, follows farther -the sharp division of ranks, and the total exclusion of the third rank -from a proper political life. In reality Plato makes but two classes in -his state, the subjects and the sovereign, analogous to his twofold -psychological division of sensible and intellectual, mortal and -immortal, but as in psychology he had introduced a middle step, spirit, -to stand between his two divisions there, so in the state he brings in -the military class between the ruler and those intended to supply the -bodily wants of the community. We have thus three ranks, that of the -ruler, corresponding to the reason, that of the watcher or warrior, -answering to spirit, and that of the craftsman, which is made parallel -to the appetites or sensuous desires. To these three ranks belong three -separate functions: to the first, that of making the law and caring for -the general good; to the second, that of defending the public welfare -from attacks of external foes; and to the third, the care of separate -interests and wants, as agriculture, mechanics, &c. From each of these -three ranks and its functions the state derives a peculiar virtue--wisdom -from the ruler, bravery from the warrior, and temperance from the -craftsman, so far as he lives in obedience to his rulers. In the proper -union of these three virtues is found the justice of the state, a virtue -which is thus the sum of all other virtues. Plato pays little attention -to the lowest rank, that of the craftsman, who exists in the state only -as means. He held that it was not necessary to give laws and care for -the rights of this portion of the community. The separation between the -ruler and the warrior is not so broad. Plato suffers these two ranks to -interpenetrate each other, and analogous to his original psychological -division, as though the reason were but spirit in the highest step of -its development, he makes the oldest and the best of the warriors rise -to the dignity and power of the rulers. The education of its warriors -should therefore be a chief care of the state, in order that their -spirit, though losing none of its peculiar energy, may yet be penetrated -by reason. The best endowed by nature and culture among the warriors, -may be selected at the age of thirty, and put upon a course of careful -training. When he has reached the age of fifty and looked upon the idea -of the good, he may be bound to actualize this archetype in the state, -provided always that every one wait his turn, and spend his remaining -time in philosophy. Only thus can the state be raised to the -unconditioned rule of reason under the supremacy of the good. - - - - -SECTION XV. - -THE OLD ACADEMY. - - -In the old Academy, we lose the presence of inventive genius; with few -exceptions we find here no movements of progress, but rather a gradual -retrogression of the Platonic philosophizing. After the death of Plato, -Speusippus, his nephew and disciple, held the chair of his master in the -Academy during eight years. He was succeeded by Xenocrates, after whom -we meet with Polemo, Crates, and Crantor. It was a time in which schools -for high culture were established, and the older teacher yielded to his -younger successor the post of instruction. The general characteristics -of the old Academy, so far as can be gathered from the scanty accounts, -were great attention to learning, the prevalence of Pythagorean -elements, especially the doctrine of numbers, and lastly, the reception -of fantastic and demonological notions, among which the worship of the -stars played a part. The prevalence of the Pythagorean doctrine of -numbers in the later instructions of the Academy, gave to mathematical -sciences, particularly arithmetic and astronomy, a high place, and at -the same time assigned to the doctrine of ideas a much lower position -than Plato had given it. Subsequently, the attempt was made to get back -to the unadulterated doctrine of Plato. Crantor is said to be the first -editor of the Platonic writings. - -As Plato was the only true Socraticist, so was Aristotle the only -genuine disciple of Plato, though often abused by his fellow-disciples -as unfaithful to his master's principles. - -We pass on at once to him, without stopping now to inquire into his -relation to Plato, or the advance which he made beyond his predecessor, -since these points will come up before us in the exhibition of the -Aristotelian philosophy. (_See_ § XVI: III. 1.) - - - - -SECTION XVI. - -ARISTOTLE. - - -I. LIFE AND WRITINGS OF ARISTOTLE.--Aristotle was born 384 B. C. at -Stagira, a Greek colony in Thrace. His father, Nicomachus, was a -physician, and the friend of Amyntas, king of Macedonia. The former fact -may have had its influence in determining the scientific direction of -the son, and the latter may have procured his subsequent summons to the -Macedonian court. Aristotle at a very early age lost both his parents. -In his seventeenth year he came to Plato at Athens, and continued with -him twenty years. On account of his indomitable zeal for study, Plato -named him "the Teacher," and said, upon comparing him with Xenocrates, -that the latter required the spur, the former the bit. Among the many -charges made against his character, most prominent are those of jealousy -and ingratitude towards his master, but most of the anecdotes in which -these charges are embodied merit little credence. It is certain that -Aristotle, after the death of Plato, stood in friendly relations with -Xenocrates; still, as a writer, he can hardly be absolved from a certain -want of friendship and regard towards Plato and his philosophy, though -all this can be explained on psychological grounds. After Plato's death, -Aristotle went with Xenocrates to Hermeas, tyrant of Atarneus, whose -sister Pythias he married after Hermeas had fallen a prey to Persian -violence. After the death of Pythias he is said to have married his -concubine, Herpyllis, who was the mother of his son Nicomachus. In the -year 343 he was called by Philip of Macedon, to take the charge of the -education of his son Alexander, then thirteen years old. Both father and -son honored him highly, and the latter, with royal munificence, -subsequently supported him in his studies. When Alexander went to -Persia, Aristotle betook himself to Athens, and taught in the Lyceum, -the only gymnasium then vacant, since Xenocrates had possession of the -Academy, and the Cynics of the Cynosaerges. From the shady walks -[Greek: peripatoi] of the Lyceum, in which Aristotle was accustomed to -walk and expound his philosophy, his school received the name of the -Peripatetic. Aristotle is said to have spent his mornings with his more -mature disciples, exercising them in the profoundest questions of -philosophy, while his evenings were occupied with a greater number of -pupils in a more general and preparatory instruction. The former -investigations were called acroamatic, the latter exoteric. He abode at -Athens, and taught thirteen years, and then, after the death of -Alexander, whose displeasure he had incurred, he is said to have been -accused by the Athenians of impiety towards the gods, and to have fled -to Chalcis, in order to escape a fate similar to that of Socrates. He -died in the year 322 at Chalcis, in Eubæa. - -Aristotle left a vast number of writings, of which the smaller (perhaps -a fourth), but unquestionably the more important portion have come down -to us, though in a form which cannot be received without some scruples. -The story of Strabo about the fate of the Aristotelian writings, and the -injury which they suffered in a cellar at Scepsis, is confessedly a -fable, or at least limited to the original manuscripts; but the -fragmentary and descriptive form which many among them, and even the -most important (_e. g._ the metaphysics) possess, the fact that -scattered portions of one and the same work (_e. g._ the ethics) are -repeatedly found in different treatises, the irregularities and striking -contradictions in one and the same writing, the disagreement found in -other particulars among different works, and the distinction made by -Aristotle himself between acroamatic and exoterical writings, all this -gives reason to believe that we have, for the most part, before us only -his oral lectures written down, and subsequently edited by his scholars. - -II. UNIVERSAL CHARACTER AND DIVISION OF THE ARISTOTELIAN -PHILOSOPHY.--With Plato, philosophy had been national in both its form -and content, but with Aristotle, it loses its Hellenic peculiarity, and -becomes universal in scope and meaning; the Platonic dialogue changes -into barren prose; a rigid, artistic language takes the place of the -mythical and poetical dress; the thinking which had been with Plato -intuitive, is with Aristotle discursive; the immediate beholding of -reason in the former, becomes reflection and conception in the latter. -Turning away from the Platonic unity of all being, Aristotle prefers to -direct his attention to the manifoldness of the phenomenal; he seeks the -idea only in its concrete actualization, and consequently grasps the -particular far more prominently in its peculiar determinateness and -reciprocal differences, than in its connection with the idea. He -embraces with equal interest the facts given in nature, in history, and -in the inner life of man. But he ever tends toward the individual, he -must ever have a fact given in order to develope his thought upon it; it -is always the empirical, the actual, which solicits and guides his -speculation; his whole course is a description of the facts given, and -only merits the name of a philosophy because it comprehends the -empirical in its totality and synthesis; because it has carried out its -induction to the farthest extent. Only because he is the absolute -empiricist may Aristotle be called the truly philosopher. - -This character of the Aristotelian philosophy explains at the outset its -encyclopedian tendency, inasmuch as every thing given in experience is -equally worthy of regard and investigation. Aristotle is thus the -founder of many courses of study unknown before him; he is not only the -father of logic, but also of natural history, empirical psychology, and -the science of natural rights. - -This devotion of Aristotle to that which is given will also explain his -predominant inclination towards physics, for nature is the most -immediate and actual. Connected also with this is the fact that -Aristotle is the first among philosophers who has given to history and -its tendencies an accurate attention. The first book of the -_Metaphysics_ is also the first attempt at a history of philosophy, as -his politics is the first critical history of the different states and -constitutions. In both these cases he brings out his own theory only as -the consequence of that which has been historically given, basing it in -the former case upon the works of his predecessors, and in the latter -case upon the constitutions which lie before him. - -It is clear that according to this, the method of Aristotle must be a -different one from that of Plato. Instead of proceeding like the latter, -synthetically and dialectically, he pursues for the most part an -analytic and regressive course, that is, going backward from the -concrete to its ultimate ground and determination. While Plato would -take his standpoint in the idea, in order to explain from this position -and set in a clearer light that which is given and empirical, Aristotle -on the other hand, starts with that which is given, in order to find and -exhibit the idea in it. His method is, hence, induction; that is, the -derivation of certain principles and maxims from a sum of given facts -and phenomena; his mode of procedure is, usually, argument, a barren -balancing of facts, phenomena, circumstances and possibilities. He -stands out for the most part only as the thoughtful observer. Renouncing -all claim to universality and necessity in his results, he is content to -have brought out that which has an approximative truth, and the highest -degree of probability. He often affirms that science does not simply -relate to the changeless and necessary, but also to that which -ordinarily takes place, that being alone excluded from its province, -which is strictly accidental. Philosophy, consequently, has with him the -character and worth of a reckoning of probabilities, and his mode of -exhibition assumes not unfrequently only the form of a doubtful -deliberation. Hence there is no trace of the Platonic ideals, hence, -also, his repugnance to a glowing and poetic style in philosophy, a -repugnance which, while indeed it induces in him a fixed, philosophical -terminology, also frequently leads him to mistake and misrepresent the -opinions of his predecessors. Hence, also, in whatever he treated, his -thorough adherence to that which is actually given. - -Connected in fine with the empirical character of the Aristotelian -philosophizing, is the fragmentary form of his writings, and their want -of a systematic division and arrangement. Proceeding always in the line -of that which is given, from individual to individual, he considers -every province of the actual by itself, and makes it the subject of a -separate treatise; but he, for the most part, fails to indicate the -lines by which the different parts hang together, and are comprehended -in a systematic whole. Thus he holds up a number of co-ordinate -sciences, each one of which has an independent basis, but he fails to -give us the highest science which embraces them all. The principle is -sometimes affirmed that all the writings follow the idea of a whole; but -in their procedure there is such a want of all systematic connection, -and every one of his writings is a monograph so thoroughly independent -and complete in itself, that we are sometimes puzzled to know what -Aristotle himself received as a part of philosophy, and what he -excluded. We are never furnished with an independent scheme or outline, -we rarely find definite results or summary explanations, and even the -different divisions of philosophy which he gives, vary essentially from -one another. At one time he divides science into theoretical and -practical, at another, he adds to these two a poetical creative science, -while still again he speaks of the three parts of science, ethics, -physics, and logic. At one time he divides the theoretical philosophy -into logic and physics, and at another into theology, mathematics, and -physics. But no one of these divisions has he expressly given as the -basis on which to represent his system; he himself places no value upon -this method of division, and, indeed, openly declares himself opposed to -it. It is, therefore, only for the sake of uniformity that we can give -the preference here to the threefold division of philosophy as already -adopted by Plato. - -III. LOGIC AND METAPHYSICS. 1. CONCEPTION AND RELATION OF THE TWO.--The -word metaphysics was first furnished by the Aristotelian commentators. -Plato had used the term dialectics, and Aristotle had characterized the -same thing as "first philosophy," while he calls physics the "second -philosophy." The relation of this first philosophy to the other sciences -Aristotle determines in the following way. Every science, he says, must -have for investigation a determined province and separate form of being, -but none of these sciences reaches the conception of being itself. Hence -there is needed a science which should investigate that which the other -sciences take up hypothetically, or through experience. This is done by -the first philosophy which has to do with being as such, while the other -sciences relate only to determined and concrete being. The metaphysics, -which is this science of being and its primitive grounds, is the _first_ -philosophy, since it is presupposed by every other discipline. Thus, -says Aristotle, if there were only a physical substance, then would -physics be the first and the only philosophy, but if there be an -immaterial and unmoved essence which is the ground of all being, then -must there also be an antecedent, and because it is antecedent, a -universal philosophy. The first ground of all being is God, whence -Aristotle occasionally gives to the first philosophy the name of -theology. - -It is difficult to determine the relation between this first philosophy -as the science of the ultimate ground of things, and that science which -is ordinarily termed the logic of Aristotle, and which is exhibited in -the writings bearing the name of the _Organon_. Aristotle himself has -not accurately examined the relations of these two sciences, the reason -of which is doubtless to be found in the incomplete form of the -metaphysics. But since he has embraced them both under the same name of -logic, since the investigation of the essence of things (VII. 17), and -the doctrine of ideas (XIII. 5), are expressly called logical, since he -repeatedly attempts in the Metaphysics (_Book_ IV.), to establish the -logical principle of contradiction as an absolute presupposition for all -thinking and speaking and philosophizing, and employs the method of -argument belonging to that science which has to do with the essence of -things (III. 2. IV. 3), and since, in fine, the categories to which he -had already dedicated a separate book in the Organon are also discussed -again in the Metaphysics (_Book_ V.), it follows that this much at least -may be affirmed with certainty, that he would not absolutely separate -the investigations of the Organon from those of the Metaphysics, and -that he would not counsel the ordinary division of formal logic and -metaphysics, although he has omitted to show more clearly their inner -connection. - -2. LOGIC.--The great problem both of the logical faculty and also of -logic both as science and art, consists in this, viz., to form and judge -of conclusions, and through conclusions to be able to establish a proof. -The conclusions, however, arise from propositions, and the propositions -from conceptions. According to this natural point of view, which lies in -the very nature of the case, Aristotle has divided the content of the -logical and dialectical doctrine contained in the different treatises of -the Organon. The first treatise in the Organon is that containing the -_categories_, a work which treats of the universal determinations of -being, and gives the first attempt at an ontology. Of these categories -Aristotle enumerates ten; essence, magnitude, quality, relation, the -where, the when, position, habit, action, and passion. The second -treatise (_de interpretatione_) investigates speech as the expression of -thought, and discusses the doctrine of the parts of speech, propositions -and judgments. The third are the analytic books, which show how -conclusions may be referred back to their principles and arranged in -order of their antecedence. The first Analytic contains in two books the -universal doctrine of the Syllogism. Conclusions are according to their -content and end either apodictic, which possess a certain and -incontrovertible truth, or dialectic, which are directed toward that -which may be disputed and is probable, or, finally, sophistic, which are -announced deceptively as correct conclusions while they are not. The -doctrine of apodictic conclusions and thus of proofs is given in the two -books of the second Analytic, that of dialectic, is furnished in the -eight books of the Topic, and that of sophistic in the treatise -concerning "Sophistical Convictions." - -A closer statement of the Aristotelian logic would be familiar to every -one, since the formal representations of this science ordinarily given, -employ for the most part only the material furnished by Aristotle. Kant -has remarked, that since the time of the Grecian sage, logic has made -neither progress nor retrogression. Only in two points has the formal -logic of our time advanced beyond that of Aristotle; first, in adding to -the categorical conclusion which was the only one Aristotle had in mind, -the hypothetical and disjunctive, and second, in adding the fourth to -the first three figures of conclusion. But the incompleteness of the -Aristotelian logic, which might be pardoned in the founder of this -science, yet abides, and its thoroughly empirical method not only still -continues, but has even been exalted to a principle by making the -antithesis, which Aristotle did not, between the form of a thought and -the content. Aristotle, in reality, only attempted to collect the -logical facts in reference to the formation of propositions, and the -method of conclusions; he has given in his logic only the natural -history of finite thinking. However highly now we may rate the -correctness of his abstraction, and the clearness with which he brings -into consciousness the logical operation of the understanding, we must -make equally conspicuous with this the want of all scientific derivation -and foundation. The ten categories which he, as already remarked, has -discussed in a separate treatise, he simply mentions, without furnishing -any ground or principle for this enumeration; that there are this number -of categories is only a matter of fact to him, and he even cites them -differently in different writings. In the same way also he takes up the -figures of the conclusion empirically; he considers them only as forms -and determinations of relation of the formal thinking, and continues -thus, although he allows the conclusion to stand for the only form of -science within the province of the logic of the understanding. Neither -in his Metaphysics nor in his Physics does he cite the rules of the -formal methods of conclusion which he develops in the Organon, clearly -proving that he has nowhere in his system properly elaborated either his -categories or his analytic; his logical investigations do not influence -generally the development of his philosophical thought, but have for the -most part only the value of a preliminary scrutiny. - -3. METAPHYSICS.--Among all the Aristotelian writings, the Metaphysics is -least entitled to be called a connected whole; it is only a connection -of sketches, which, though they follow a certain fundamental idea, -utterly fail of an inner mediation and a perfect development. We may -distinguish in it seven distinct groups. (1) Criticism of the previous -philosophic systems viewed in the light of the four Aristotelian -principles, _Book_ I. (2) Positing of the apories or the philosophical -preliminary questions, III. (3) The principle of contradiction, IV. (4) -Definitions, V. (5) Examination of the conception of essence ([Greek: -ousia]) and conceivable being (the [Greek: ti ên einai]) or the -conception of matter ([Greek: hylê]), form ([Greek: eidos]), and that -which arises from the connection of these two ([Greek: synolon]), VII. -VIII. (6) Potentiality and actuality, IX. (7) The Divine Spirit moving -all, but itself unmoved, XII. (8) To these we may add the polemic -against the Platonic doctrine of ideas and numbers, which runs through -the whole Metaphysics, but is especially carried out in _Books_ XIII. -and XIV. - -(1) _The Aristotelian Criticism of the Platonic Doctrine of Ideas._--In -Aristotle's antagonism to the Platonic doctrine of ideas, we must seek -for the specific difference between the two systems, a difference of -which Aristotle avails himself of every opportunity (especially -_Metaph._ I. and XIII.) to express. Plato had beheld every thing actual -in the idea, but the idea was to him a rigid truth, which had not yet -become interwoven with the life and the movement of existence. Such a -view, however, had this difficulty, the idea, however little Plato would -have it so, found standing over against it in independent being the -phenomenal world, while it furnished no principle on which the being of -the phenomenal world could be affirmed. This Aristotle recognizes and -charges upon Plato, that his ideas were only "immortalized things of -sense," out of which the being and becoming of the sensible could not be -explained. In order to avoid this consequence, he himself makes out an -original reference of mind to phenomenon, affirming that the relation of -the two is, that of the actual to the possible, or that of form to -matter, and considering also mind as the absolute actuality of matter, -and matter, as the potentially mind. His argument against the Platonic -doctrine of ideas, Aristotle makes out in the following way. - -Passing by now the fact that Plato has furnished no satisfactory proof -for the objective and independent reality of ideas, and that his theory -is without vindication, we may affirm in the first place that it is -wholly unfruitful, since it possesses no ground of explanation for -being. The ideas have no proper and independent content. To see this we -need only refer to the manner in which Plato introduced them. In order -to make science possible he had posited certain substances independent -of the sensible, and uninfluenced by its changes. But to serve such a -purpose, there was offered to him nothing other than this individual -thing of sense. Hence he gave to this individual a universal form, which -was with him the idea. From this it resulted, that his ideas can hardly -be separated from the sensible and individual objects which participate -in them. The ideal duality and the empirical duality is one and the same -content. The truth of this we can readily see, whenever we gain from the -adherents to the doctrine of ideas a definite statement respecting the -peculiar character of their unchangeable substances, in comparison with -the sensible and individual things which participate in them. The only -difference between the two consists in appending _per se_ to the names -expressing the respective ideas; thus, while the individual things are -_e. g._ man, horse, etc., the ideas are man _per se_, horse _per se_, -etc. There is only this formal change for the doctrine of ideas to rest -upon; the finite content is not removed, but is only _characterized_ as -perpetual. This objection, that in the doctrine of ideas we have in -reality only the sensible posited as a not-sensible, and endowed with -the predicate of immutability, Aristotle urges as above remarked when he -calls the ideas "immortalized things of sense," not as though they were -actually something sensible and spacial, but because in them the -sensible individual loses at once its individuality, and becomes a -universal. He compares them in this respect with the gods of the popular -and anthropomorphical religion; as these are nothing but deified men, so -the ideas are only things of nature endowed with a supernatural potency, -a sensible exalted to a not-sensible. This identity between the ideas -and their respective individual things amounts moreover to this, that -the introduction of ideas doubles the objects to be known in a -burdensome manner, and without any good results. Why set up the same -thing over again? Why besides the sensible twofoldness and -threefoldness, affirm a twofoldness and threefoldness in the idea? The -adherents of the doctrine of ideas, when they posit an idea for every -class of natural things, and through this theory set up two equivalent -theories of sensible and not-sensible substances, seem therefore to -Aristotle like men who think they can reckon better with many numbers -than with few, and who therefore go to multiplying their numbers before -they begin their reckoning. Therefore again the doctrine of ideas is a -tautology, and wholly unfruitful of the explanation of being, "The ideas -give no aid to the knowledge of the individual things participating in -them, since the ideas are not immanent in these things, but separate -from them." Equally unfruitful are the ideas when considered in -reference to the arising and departing of the things of sense. They -contain no principle of becoming, of movement. There is in them no -causality which might bring out the event, or explain the event when it -had actually happened. Themselves without motion and process, if they -had any effect, it could only be that of perfect repose. True, Plato -affirms in his Phædon that the ideas are causes both of being and -becoming, but in spite of the ideas, nothing ever _becomes_ without a -moving; the ideas, by their separation from the becoming, have no such -capacity to move. This indifferent relation of ideas to the actual -becoming, Aristotle brings under the categories, potentiality and -actuality, and farther says that the ideas are only potential, they are -only bare possibility and essentiality because they are wanting in -actuality.--The inner contradiction of the doctrine of ideas is in brief -this, viz., that it posits an individual immediately as a universal, and -at the same time pronounces the universal, the species, as numerically -an individual, and also that the ideas are set up on the one side as -separate individual substances, and on the other side as participant, -and therefore as universal. Although the ideas as the original -conceptions of species are a universal, which arise when being is fixed -in existence, and the one brought out in the many, and the abiding is -given a place in the changeable, yet can they not be defined as they -should be according to the Platonic notion, that they are individual -substances, for there can be neither definition nor derivation of an -absolute individual, since even the word (and only in words is a -definition possible) is in its nature a universal, and belongs also to -other objects, consequently, every predicate in which I attempt to -determine an individual thing cannot belong exclusively to that thing. -The adherents of the doctrine of ideas, are therefore not at all in a -condition to give an idea a conceivable termination; their ideas are -indefinable.--In general, Plato has left the relation of the individual -objects to ideas very obscure. He calls the ideas archetypes, and allows -that the objects may participate in them; yet are these only poetical -metaphors. How shall we represent to ourselves this "participation," -this copying of the original archetype? We seek in vain for more -accurate explanations of this in Plato. It is impossible to conceive how -and why matter participates in the ideas. In order to explain this, we -must add to the ideas a still higher and wider principle, which contains -the cause for this "participation" of objects, for without a moving -principle we find no ground for "participation." Alike above the idea -(_e. g._ the idea of man), and the phenomenon (_e. g._ the individual -man), there must stand a third common to both, and in which the two were -united, _i. e._ as Aristotle was in the habit of expressing this -objection, the doctrine of ideas leads to the adoption of a "third man." -The result of this Aristotelian criticism is the immanence of the -universal in the individual. The method of Socrates in trying to find -the universal as the essence of the individual, and to give definitions -according to conception, was as correct (for no science is possible -without the universal) as the theory of Plato in exalting these -universal conceptions to an independent subsistence as real individual -substances, was erroneous. Nothing universal, nothing which is a kind or -a species, exists besides and separate from the individual; a thing and -its conception cannot be separated from each other. With these -principles Aristotle hardly deviated from Plato's fundamental idea that -the universal is the only true being, and the essence of individual -things; it may rather be said that he has freed this idea from its -original abstraction, and given it a more profound mediation with the -phenomenal world. Notwithstanding his apparent contradiction to Plato, -the fundamental position of Aristotle is the same as that of his master, -viz., that the essence of a thing ([Greek: to ti estin, to ti ên einai]) -is known and represented in the conception; Aristotle however recognizes -the universal, the conception to be as little separated from the -determined phenomenon as form from matter, and essence or substance -([Greek: ousia]) in its most proper sense is, according to him, only -that which cannot be predicated of another, though of this other every -remaining thing may be predicated; it is that which is a this ([Greek: -tode ti]), the individual thing and not a universal. - -(2.) _The four Aristotelian principles or causes, and the relation of -form and matter._--From the criticism of the Platonic doctrine of ideas -arose directly the groundwork of the Aristotelian system, the -determinations of matter ([Greek: hylê]), and form ([Greek: eidos]). -Aristotle enumerates four metaphysical principles or causes: matter, -form, moving cause, and end. In a house, for instance, the matter is the -wood, the form is the conception of the house, the moving cause is the -builder, and the end is the actual house. These four determinations of -all being resolve themselves upon a closer scrutiny into the fundamental -antithesis of matter and form. The conception of the moving cause is -involved with the two other ideal principles of form and of end. The -moving cause is that which has secured the transition of the incomplete -actuality or potentiality to the complete actuality, or induces the -becoming of matter to form. But in every movement of the incomplete to -the complete, the latter antedates in conception this movement, and is -its motive. The moving cause of matter is therefore form. So is man the -moving and producing cause of man; the form of the statue in the -understanding of the artist is the cause of the movement by which the -statue is produced; health must be in the thought of the physician -before it can become the moving cause of convalescence; so in a certain -degree is medicine, health, and the art of building the form of the -house. But in the same way, the moving or first cause is also identical -with the final cause or end, for the end is the motive for all becoming -and movement. The moving cause of the house is the builder, but the -moving cause of the builder is the end to be attained, _i. e._ the -house. From such examples as these it is seen that the determinations of -form and end may be considered under one, in so far as both are united -in the conception of actuality ([Greek: energeia]), for the end of -every thing is its completed being, its conception or its form, the -bringing out into complete actuality that which was potentially -contained in it. The end of the hand is its conception, the end of the -seed is the tree, which is at the same time the essence of the seed. The -only fundamental determinations, therefore, which cannot be wholly -resolved into each other, are matter and form. - -Matter when abstracted from form in thought, Aristotle regarded as that -which was entirely without predicate, determination and distinction. It -is that abiding thing which lies at the basis of all becoming; but which -in its own being is different from every thing which has become. It is -capable of the widest diversity of forms, but is itself without -determinate form; it is every thing in possibility, but nothing in -actuality. There is a first matter which lies at the basis of every -determinate thing, precisely as the wood is related to the bench and the -marble to the statue. With this conception of matter Aristotle prides -himself upon having conquered the difficulty so frequently urged of -explaining the possibility that any thing can become, since being can -neither come out of being nor out of not-being. For it is not out of -not-being absolutely, but only out of that which as to actuality is -not-being, but which potentially is being, that any thing becomes. -Possible or potential being is no more not-being than actuality. Every -existing object of nature is hence but a potential thing which has -become actualized. Matter is thus a far more positive substratum with -Aristotle than with Plato, who had treated it as absolutely not-being. -From this is clearly seen how Aristotle could apprehend matter in -opposition to form as something positively negative and antithetic to -the form, and as its positive denial ([Greek: sterêsis]). - -As matter coalesces with potentiality, so does form coincide with -actuality. It is that which makes a distinguishable and actual object, a -this ([Greek: tode ti]) out of the undistinguished and indeterminate -matter; it is the peculiar virtue, the completed activity, the soul of -every thing. That which Aristotle calls form, therefore, is not to be -confounded with what we perhaps may call shape; a hand severed from the -arm, for instance, has still the outward shape of a hand, but according -to the Aristotelian apprehension, it is only a hand now as to matter and -not as to form: an actual hand, a hand as to form, is only that which -can do the proper work of a hand. Pure form is that which, in truth, is -without matter ([Greek: to ti ên einai]); or, in other words, the -conception of being, the pure conception. But such pure form does not -exist in the realm of determined being; every determined being, every -individual substance ([Greek: ousia]), every thing which is a this, is -rather a totality of matter and form, a ([Greek: sunolon]). It is, -therefore, owing to matter, that being is not pure form and pure -conception; matter is the ground of the becoming, the manifold, and the -accidental; and it is this, also, which gives to science its limits. For -in precisely the measure in which the individual thing bears in itself a -material element is it uncognizable. From what has been said, it follows -that the opposition between matter and form is a variable one, that -being matter in one respect which in another is form; building-wood, _e. -g._ is matter in relation to the completed house, but in relation to the -unhewn tree it is form; the soul in respect to the body is form, but in -respect to the reason, which is the form of form ([Greek: eidos eidous]) -is it matter. On this standpoint the totality of all existence may be -represented as a ladder, whose lowest step is a prime matter ([Greek: -prôtê hulê]), which is not at all form, and whose highest step is an -ultimate form which is not at all matter, but is pure form (the -absolute, divine spirit). That which stands between these two points is -in one respect matter, and in another respect form, _i. e._ the former -is ever translating itself into the latter. This position, which lies at -the basis of the Aristotelian view of nature, is attained analytically -through the observation that all nature exhibits the perpetual and -progressive transition of matter into form, and shows the exhaustless -and original ground of things as it comes to view in ever ascending -ideal formations. That all matter should become form, and all that is -potential should be actual, and all that is should be known, is -doubtless the demand of the reason and the end of all becoming; yet is -this actually impracticable, since Aristotle expressly affirms that -matter as the antithesis, or denial of form, can never become wholly -actualized, and therefore can never be perfectly known. The Aristotelian -system ends thus like its predecessors, in the unsubdued dualism of -matter and form. - -(3.) _Potentiality and Actuality_ ([Greek: dynamis] and [Greek: -energeia]).--The relation of matter to form, logically apprehended, is -but the relation of potentiality to actuality. These terms, which -Aristotle first employed according to their philosophical significance, -are very characteristic for his system. We have in the movement of -potential being to actual being the explicit conception of becoming, and -in the four principles we have a distribution of this conception in its -parts. The Aristotelian system is consequently a system of the becoming, -in which the Heraclitic principle appears again in a richer and -profounder apprehension, as that of the Eleatics had done with Plato. -Aristotle in this has made no insignificant step towards the subjection -of the Platonic dualism. If matter is the possibility of form, or reason -becoming, then is the opposition between the idea and the phenomenal -world potentially overcome, at least in principle, since there is one -being which appears both in matter and form only in different stages of -development. The relation of the potential to the actual Aristotle -exhibits by the relation of the unfinished to the finished work, of the -unemployed carpenter to the one at work upon his building, of the -individual asleep to him awake. Potentially the seed-corn is the tree, -but the grown up tree is it actually; the potential philosopher is he -who is not at this moment in a philosophizing condition; even before the -battle the better general is the potential conqueror; potentially is -space infinitely divisible; in fact every thing is potentially which -possesses a principle of motion, of development, or of change, and -which, if unhindered by any thing external, will be of itself. Actuality -or entelechy on the other hand indicates the perfect act, the end as -gained, the completely actual (the grown-up tree _e.g._ is the entelechy -of the seed-corn), that activity in which the act and the completeness -of the act fall together, _e. g._ to see, to think where he sees and he -has seen, he thinks and he has thought (the acting and the completeness -of the act) are one and the same, while in those activities which -involve a becoming, _e. g._ to learn, to go, to become well, the two are -separated. In this apprehension of form (or idea) as actuality or -entelechy, _i. e._ in joining it with the movement of the becoming, is -found the chief antagonism of the Aristotelian and Platonic systems. -Plato considers the idea as being at rest, and consisting for itself, in -opposition to the becoming and to motion; but with Aristotle the idea is -the eternal product of the becoming, it is an eternal energy, _i. e._ an -activity in complete actuality, it is not perfect being, but is being -produced in every moment and eternally, through the movement of the -potential to its actual end. - -(4.) _The Absolute, Divine Spirit._--Aristotle has sought to establish -from a number of sides, the conception of the absolute spirit, or as he -calls it, the first mover, and especially by joining it to the relation -of potentiality and actuality. - -(_a._) _The Cosmological Form._--The actual is ever antecedent to the -potential not only in conception (for I can speak of potentiality only -in reference to some activity) but also in time, for the acting becomes -actual only through an acting; the uneducated becomes educated through -the educated, and this leads to the claim of a first mover which shall -be pure activity. Or, again, it is only possible that there should be -motion, becoming, or a chain of causes, except as a principle of motion, -a mover exists. But this principle of motion must be one whose essence -is actuality, since that which only exists in possibility cannot alone -become actual, and therefore cannot be a principle of motion. All -becoming postulates with itself that which is eternal and which has not -become, that which itself unmoved is a principle of motion, a first -mover. - -(_b._) _The Ontological Form._--In the same way it follows from the -conception of potentiality, that the eternal and necessary being cannot -be potential. For that which potentially is, may just as well either be -or not be; but that which possibly is not, is temporal and not eternal. -Nothing therefore which is absolutely permanent, is potential, but only -actual. Or, again, if potentiality be the first, then can there be no -possible existence, but this contradicts the conception of the absolute -or that which it is impossible should not be. - -(_c._) _The Moral Form._--Potentiality always involves a possibility to -the most opposite. He who has the capacity to be well, has also the -capacity to be sick, but actually no man is at the same time both sick -and well. Therefore actuality is better than potentiality, and only it -can belong to the eternal. - -(_d._) So far as the relation of potentiality and actuality is identical -with the relation of matter and form, we may apprehend in the following -way these arguments for the existence of a being which is pure -actuality. The supposition of an absolute matter without form (the -[Greek: prôtê hulê]) involves also the supposition of an absolute form -without matter (a [Greek: prôton eidos]). And since the conception of -form resolves itself into the three determinations, of the moving, the -conceivable, and the final cause, so is the eternal one the absolute -principle of motion (the first mover [Greek: prôton kinoun]), -the absolute conception or pure intelligible (the pure [Greek: ti hên -einai]), and the absolute end. - -All the other predicates of the first mover or the highest principle of -the world, follow from these premises with logical necessity. Unity -belongs to him, since the ground of the manifoldness of being lies in -the matter and he has no participation in matter; he is immovable and -abiding ever the same, since otherwise he could not be the absolute -mover and the cause of all becoming; he is life as active self-end and -actuality; he is at the same time intelligible and intelligence, because -he is absolutely immaterial and free from nature; he is active, _i. e._ -thinking intelligence, because his essence is pure actuality; he is -self-contemplating intelligence, because the divine thought cannot -attain its actuality in any thing extrinsic, and because if it were the -thought of any thing other than itself, this would make it depend upon -some potential existence for its actualization. Hence the famed -Aristotelian definition of the absolute that it is the thought of -thought ([Greek: noêsis noêaeôs]), the personal unity of the thinking -and the thought, of the knowing and the known, the absolute -subject-object. In the Metaphysics (XII. 1.) we have a statement in -order of these attributes of the Divine Spirit, and an almost devout -sketch of the eternally blessed Deity, knowing himself in his eternal -tranquillity as the absolute truth, satisfied with himself, and wanting -neither in activity nor in any virtue. - -As would appear from this statement, Aristotle has never fully developed -the idea of his absolute spirit, and still less has he harmonized it -with the fundamental principles and demands of his philosophy, although -many consequences of his system would seem to drive him to this, and -numerous principles which he has laid down would seem to prepare the way -for it. This idea is unexpectedly introduced in the twelfth book of the -Metaphysics simply as an assertion, without being farther and -inductively substantiated. It is at once attended with important -difficulties. We do not see why the ultimate ground of motion or the -absolute spirit must be conceived as a personal being; we do not see how -any thing can he a moving cause and yet itself unmoved; how it can be -the origin of all becoming, that is of the departing and arising, and -itself remain a changeless energy, a principle of motion with no -potentiality to be moved, for the moving thing must stand in a relation -of passive and active with the thing moved. Moreover, Aristotle, as -would follow from these contradictory determinations, has never -thoroughly and consistently determined the relation between God and the -world. He has considered the absolute spirit only as contemplative and -theoretical reason, from whom all action must be excluded because he is -perfect end in himself, but every action presupposes an end not yet -perfected; we have thus no true motive for his activity in reference to -the world. He cannot be truly called the first mover in his theoretical -relation alone, and since he is in his essence extra-mundane and -unmoved, he cannot once permeate the life of the world with his -activity; and since also matter on one side never rises wholly to form, -we have, therefore, here again the unreconciled dualism between the -Divine spirit and the unmistakable reality of matter. Many of the -arguments which Aristotle brings against the gods of Anaxagoras may be -urged against his own theory. - -IV. THE ARISTOTELIAN PHYSICS.--The Aristotelian Physics, which embraces -the greater portion of his writings, follows the becoming and the -building up of matter into form, the course through which nature as a -living being progresses in order to become individual soul. All becoming -has an end; but end is form, and the absolute form is spirit. With -perfect consistency, therefore, Aristotle regards the human individual -of the male sex as the end and the centre of earthly nature in its -realized form. All else beneath the moon is, as it were, an unsuccessful -attempt of nature to produce the male human, a superfluity which arises -from the impotence of nature to subdue the whole of matter and bring it -into form. Every thing which does not gain the universal end of nature -must be regarded as incomplete, and is properly an exception or -abortion. For instance, he calls it an abortion when a child does not -resemble its father; and the female child he looks upon as an abortion -in a less degree, which he accounts for by the insufficient energy of -the male as the forming principle. In general, Aristotle regards the -female as imperfect in comparison with the male, an imperfection which -belongs in a higher degree to all animals except man. If nature did her -work with perfect consciousness, then were all these mistakes, these -incomplete and improper formations inexplicable, but she is an artist -working only after an unconscious impulse, and does not complete her -work with a clear and rational insight. - -1. The universal conditions of all natural existence, _motion_, -_matter_, _space_ and _time_, Aristotle investigates in the books of -Physics. These physical conceptions may, moreover, be reduced to the -metaphysical notions of potentiality and actuality; motion is -accordingly defined as the activity of being potentially, and is -therefore a mean between the merely potential entity and the perfectly -realized activity;--space is the possibility of motion and possesses, -therefore, potentially, though not actively, the property of infinite -divisibility; time is in the same way the infinitely divisible, -expressing the measure of motion in number, and is the number of motion -according to before and after. All three are infinite, but the infinite -which is represented in them is only potentially but not actually a -whole: it comprehends nothing, but is itself comprehended,--a fact -mistaken by those who are accustomed to extol the infinite as though it -comprehended and held every thing in itself, because it had some -similarity with the whole. - -2. From his conception of motion Aristotle derives his view of the -_collective universe_, as brought out in his books _De Cælo_. The most -perfect motion is the circular, because this is constant, uniform, and -ever returning into itself. The world as a whole is therefore -conditioned by the circular motion, and being a whole complete in -itself, it has a spherical form. But because the motion which returns -into itself is better than every other, it follows, from the same -ground, that in this spherical universe the better sphere will be in the -circumference where the circular motion is most perfect, and the -inferior one will arrange itself around the centre of the universal -sphere. The former is heaven, the latter is earth, and between the two -stand the planetary spheres. Heaven, as the place of circular motion, -and the scene of unchangeable order, stands nearest the first moving -cause, and is under its immediate influence; it is the place where the -ancients, guided by the correct tradition of a lost wisdom, have, placed -the Divine abode. Its parts, the fixed stars, are passionless and -eternal essences, which have attained the best end, which must be -eternally conceived in a tireless activity, and which, though not -clearly cognizable, are yet much more divine than man, A lower sphere, -next to that of the fixed stars, is the sphere of the planets, among -which, besides the five known to the ancients, he reckons the sun and -the moon. This sphere stands a little removed from the greatest -perfection: instead of moving directly from right to left, as do the -fixed stars, the planets move in contrary directions and in oblique -orbits; they serve the fixed stars, and are ruled by their motion. -Lastly, the earth is in the centre of the universe, farthest removed -from the first mover, and hence partaking in the smallest degree of the -Divine. There are thus three kinds of being, exhibiting three stages of -perfection, and necessary for the explanation of nature; first, the -absolute spirit or God, an immaterial being, who, himself unmoved, -produces motion; second, the super-terrestrial region of the heavens, a -being which is moved and which moves, and which, though not without -matter, is eternal and unchangeable, and possesses ever a circular -motion; and, lastly, in the lowest course this earth, a changeful being, -which has only to play the passive part of being moved. - -3. _Nature in a strict sense_, the scene of elemental working, -represents to us a constant and progressive transition of the elementary -to the vegetative, and of the vegetative to the animal world. The lowest -step is occupied by the inanimate bodies of nature, which are simple -products of the elements mingling themselves together, and have their -entelechy only in the determinate combinations of these elements, but -whose energy consists only in striving after a fitting place in the -universe, and in resting there so far as they reach it unhindered. But -now such a mere external entelechy is not possessed by the living -bodies; within them dwells a motion as organizing principle by which -they attain to actuality, and which as a preserving activity develops in -them towards a perfected organization,--in a word they have a soul, for a -soul is the entelechy of an organic body. In plants we find the soul -working only as persevering and nourishing energy: the plant has no -other function than to nourish itself and to propagate its kind; among -animals--where we find a progress according to the mode of their -reproduction--the soul appears as sensitive; animals have sense, and are -capable of locomotion; lastly, the human soul is at the same time -nutritive, sensitive, and cognitive. - -4. _Man_, as the end of all nature, embraces in himself the different -steps of development in which the life of nature is exhibited. The -division of the faculties of the soul must therefore be necessarily -regulated, according to the division of living creatures. As the -nutritive faculty is alone the property of vegetables, and sensation, of -animals, while to the more perfect animals locomotion also belongs, so -are these three activities also development steps of the human soul, the -antecedent being the necessary condition of, and presupposed in time by, -the subsequent, while the soul itself is nothing other than the union of -these different activities of an organic body in one common end, as the -entelechy of the organic body. The fourth step, thought or reason, -which, added to the three others, constitutes the peculiarity of the -human soul, forms alone an exception from the general law. It is not a -simple product of the lower facilities of the soul, it does not stand -related to them simply as a higher stage of development, nor simply as -the soul to the body, as the end to the instrument, as actuality to -possibility, as form to matter. But as pure intellectual activity, it -completes itself without any mediation of a bodily organ; as the reason -comes into the body from without, so is it separable from the body, and -therefore has it no inner connection with the bodily functions, but is -something wholly foreign in nature. True, there exists a connection -between thought and sensation, for while the sensations are outwardly -divided, according to the different objects of sense, yet internally -they meet in one centre, as a common sense. Here they become changed -into images and representations, which again become transmuted into -thoughts, and so it might seem as if thought were only the result of the -sensation, as if intelligence were passively determined; (here we might -notice the proposition falsely ascribed to Aristotle: _nihil est in -intellectu quod non fuerit in sensu_, and also the well-known though -often misunderstood comparison of the soul with an unwritten tablet, -which only implies this much, viz., that as the unwritten tablet is -potentially but not actually a book, so does knowledge belong -potentially though not actually to the human reason; fundamentally and -radically the thought may have in itself universal conceptions, so far -as it has the capacity to form them, but not actually, nor in a -determined or developed form). But this passivity presupposes rather an -activity; for if the thought in its actuality, in that it appears as -knowledge, _becomes_ all forms and therefore all things, then must the -thought _constitute itself_ that which it becomes, and therefore all -passively determined human intelligence rests on an originally active -intelligence, which exists as self-actualizing possibility and pure -actuality, and which, as such, is wholly independent of the human body, -and has not its entelechy in it but in itself, and is not therefore -participant in the death of the body, but lives on as universal reason, -eternal and immortal. The Aristotelian dualism here again appears. -Manifestly this active intelligence stands related to the soul as God to -nature. The two sides possess no essential relation to each other. As -the Divine spirit could not enter the life of the world, so is the human -spirit unable to permeate the life of sense; although it is determined -as something passionless and immaterial, still must it as soul be -connected with matter, and although it is pure and self-contemplative -form, still it should be distinguished from the Divine spirit which is -its counterpart; the want of a satisfactory mediation on the side of the -human and on that of the Divine, is in these respects unmistakable. - -V. THE ARISTOTELIAN ETHICS. 1. RELATION OF ETHICS TO PHYSICS.--Aristotle, -guided by his tendency towards the natural, has more closely connected -ethics and physics than either of his predecessors, Socrates or Plato, -had done. While Plato found it impossible to speak of the good in man's -moral condition, disconnected from the idea of the good in itself, -Aristotle's principal object is to determine what is good for man -solely; and he supposes that the good in itself, the idea of the good, -in no way facilitates the knowledge of that good, which alone is -attainable in practical life. It is only the latter, the moral element -in the life of men, and not the good in the great affairs of the -universe, with which ethics has to do. Aristotle therefore considers the -good especially in its relation to the natural condition of men, and -affirms that it is the end towards which nature herself tends. Instead -of viewing the moral element as something purely intellectual, he rather -apprehends it as only the bloom of the physical, which here becomes -spiritualized and ethical; instead of making virtue to be knowledge, he -treats it as the normal perfection of the natural instinct. That man is -_by nature_ a political animal, is his fundamental proposition for the -doctrine of the state. - -From this connection of the ethical and the physical, arose the -objections which Aristotle urged against the Socratic conception of -virtue. Socrates had looked to the dialectical exclusively for the -ground of all morality, and had accordingly made virtue and knowledge -one. But in this, said Aristotle, the pathological element which is -associated by nature with every moral act, is destroyed. It is not -reason, but the circumstances and natural bias of the soul which are the -first ground of virtue. There is an instinct in the soul which at first -strives unconsciously after the good, which is only subsequently sought -with the full moral insight. Moral virtue arises first from that which -is natural. It is on this ground, also, that Aristotle combats the -notion that virtue may be learned. It is not through the perfection of -knowledge, but by exercise that we become acquainted with the good. It -is by a practice of moral acts that we become virtuous, just as by a -practice of building and of music we become architects and musicians; -for the habit which is the ground of moral constancy, is only a fruit of -the abundant repetition of a moral action. Hence it is that originally -we have our virtuous or our vicious dispositions in our power, but as -soon as they are formed either to virtue or to vice, we are no longer -able to control them. It is by three things, therefore, nature, habit, -and reason, that man becomes good. The standpoint of Aristotle is in -these respects directly opposed to that of Socrates. While Socrates -regarded the moral and the natural as two opposites, and made the moral -conduct to be the consequent of a rational enlightenment, Aristotle -treated both as different steps of development, and reversing the order -of Socrates, made the rational enlightenment in moral things consequent -upon the moral conduct. - -2. THE HIGHEST GOOD.--Every action has an end; but since every end is -only itself a means to some other, we need therefore something after -which we can strive for its own sake, and which is a good absolutely, or -a best. What now is this highest good and supreme object of human -pursuit? In name, at least, all men are agreed upon it, and call it -happiness, but what happiness is, is a much disputed point. If asked in -what human happiness consists, the first characteristic given would be -that it belongs alone to the peculiar being of man. But sensation is not -peculiar to man, for he shares this with the brute. A sensation of -pleasure, therefore, which arises when some desire is gratified, may be -the happiness of the brute, but certainly does not constitute the -essential of human happiness. Human happiness must express the -completeness of intelligent existence, and because intelligence is -essentially activity, therefore the happiness of man cannot consist in -any merely passive condition, but must express a completeness of human -action. Happiness therefore is a well-being, which is at the same time a -well-doing, and it is a well-doing which satisfies all the conditions of -nature, and which finds the highest contentment or well-being in an -unrestrained energy. Activity and pleasure are thus inseparably bound -together by a natural bond, and happiness is the result of their union -when they are sustained through a perfect life. Hence the Aristotelian -definition of happiness. It is a perfect practical activity in a perfect -life. - -Although it might seem from this as though Aristotle placed the -happiness of man in the natural activity of the soul, and regarded this -as self-sufficient, still he is not blind to the fact that perfect -happiness is dependent on other kinds of good whose possession is not -absolutely within our power. It is true he expresses an opinion, that -outward things in moderation are sufficient, and that only great success -or signal reverses materially influence the happens of life; still he -holds that wealth, the possession of friends and children, noble birth, -beauty of body, etc., are more or less necessary conditions of -happiness, though these are partly dependent on accidental -circumstances. These wavering and inconsistent views of Aristotle -respecting the nature of happiness, naturally rise from his empirical -method of investigation. Careful in noting every thing which our limited -experience seems to utter, he expressly avoids making either virtue or -pleasure his principle, because actual experience shows the separation -of the two. Although therefore he gives directions in general to strive -after that pleasure in which the good man delights, or which is -connected with a virtuous activity, yet is pleasure with him an end for -its own sake, and not merely an accident of virtue, an empiricist, -Aristotle is here also a dualist, while the Stoics and Epicureans have -respectively taken and held fast to each of the two sides. - -3. CONCEPTION OF VIRTUE.--As has already been seen in the Aristotelian -Polemic against Socrates, virtue is the product of an oft-repeated moral -action, a condition acquired through practice, a moral dexterity of the -soul. The nature of this dexterity is seen in the following way: every -action completes something as its work; but now if a work is imperfect -when it has either a want or a superfluity, so also is every action -imperfect in so far as there is in it either too little or too much; its -perfection, therefore, is only found as it contains the right degree, -the true mean between the too much and too little. Accordingly, virtue -in general may be explained as the observation of the right mean in -action, by which is meant not the arithmetical or absolute mean, but the -one relative to ourselves. For what is enough for one individual is -insufficient for another. The virtue of a man, of a woman, of a child, -and of a slave is respectively different. Thus, virtue depends upon -time, circumstance, and relation. The determination of this correct mean -will always waver. In the impossibility of an active and exhaustive -formula, we can only say respecting it that it is the correct mean as -determined by a correct practical insight which is seen to be such by -the intelligent man. - -It follows from this general conception of virtue, that there will be as -many separate virtues as there are circumstances of life, and as men are -ever entering into new relations, in which it becomes difficult -practically to determine the correct method of action, Aristotle, in -opposition to Plato, would limit the field of separate virtues by no -definite number. Only certain fundamental virtues can be named according -as there are certain fixed and fundamental relations among men. For -instance, man has a fixed relation to pleasure and pain. In relation to -pain, the true moral mean is found in neither fearing nor courting it, -and this is valor. In relation to pleasure, the true mean standing -between greediness and indifference is temperance. In social life, the -moral mean is between doing and suffering wrong, which is justice. In a -similar way many other virtues might be characterized, each one of them -standing as a mean between two vices, the one of which expresses a want -and the other a superfluity. A closer exhibition of the Aristotelian -doctrine of virtue would have much psychological and linguistic -interest, though but little philosophical worth. Aristotle takes the -conception of his virtues more from the use of language than from a -thoroughly applied principle of classification. His classification of -virtues is, therefore, without any stable ground, and is differently -given in different places. The conception of the correct mean which -Aristotle makes the measure of a moral act is obviously unworthy of a -systematic representation, for as it cannot be determined how the -intelligent man would act in every case, there could never be given any -specific directions how others should act. In fine, the criterion of -virtue as the correct mean between two vices cannot be always applied -for in the virtue of wisdom, _e. g._ which Aristotle describes as the -mean between simplicity and cunning, there is no such thing as too much. - -4. THE STATE.--Aristotle, like Plato, makes the highest condition of -moral virtue attainable only through political life. The state exists -before the individual, as the whole is prior to its parts. The -rationality and morality of the state is thus antecedent to that of the -individual. Hence in the best state, moral and political virtue, the -virtue of the man and the virtue of the citizen are one and the same -thing, although in states as they are, the good citizen is not -necessarily also the good man. But though this principle harmonized with -Plato, yet Aristotle, at whose time the old aboriginal states had -already begun their process of dissolution, cherished a very different -view concerning the relation of the individual and the family to the -state. He allows to both these an incomparably greater consideration, -and yields to them a far wider field of independent action. Hence he -combats Plato's community of wives and goods, not simply on the ground -of its practicability, but also on the ground of its principle, since -the state cannot be conceived as a strict unit, or as possessing any -such centralization as would weaken or destroy individual activity. With -Plato the state is but the product of the philosophical reflection, -while with Aristotle it results from given circumstances, from history -and experience, and he therefore wholly omits to sketch a model state or -a normal constitution, but carefully confines his attention to those -which actually exist. Although the ideal of a state constitution in the -form of a limited monarchy is unmistakably in his mind, still he -contents himself with portraying the different kinds of polities in -their peculiarities, their origin, and their reciprocal transitions. He -does not undertake to declare which is the best state absolutely, since -this depends upon circumstances, and one constitution is not adapted for -every state. He simply attempts to show what form of the state is -relatively the best and the most advisable under certain historical -circumstances, and under given natural, climatic, geographic, economic, -and intellectual conditions. In this he is faithful to the character of -his whole philosophy. Standing on the basis of the empirical, he -advances here as elsewhere, critically and reflectively, and in despair -of attaining the absolutely true and good, he seeks for these -relatively, with his eye fixed only on the probable and the practicable. - -VI.--THE PERIPATETIC SCHOOL.--The school of Aristotle, called the -Peripatetic, can here only be mentioned; the want of independence in its -philosophizing, and the absence of any great and universal influence, -rendering it unworthy an extended notice. Theophrastus, Eudemus, and -Strato are its most famous leaders. Like most philosophical schools, it -confines itself chiefly to a more thorough elaboration and explanation -of the system of its master. In some empirical provinces, especially the -physical, the attempt was made to carry out still further the system, -while at the same time its speculative basis was set aside and -neglected. - -VII.--TRANSITION TO THE POST-ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY.--The productive -energy of Grecian philosophy expends itself with Aristotle, -contemporaneously and in connection with the universal decay of Grecian -life and spirit. Instead of the great and universal systems of a Plato -and an Aristotle, we have now systems of a partial and one-sided -character, corresponding to that universal breach between the subject -and the objective world which characterized the civil, religious, and -social life of this last epoch of Greece, the time succeeding Alexander -the Great. That subjectivity, which had been first propounded by the -Sophists, was at length, after numerous struggles, victorious, though -its triumph was gained upon the ruins of the Grecian civil and artistic -life; the individual has become emancipated, the subject is no longer to -be given up to the objective world, the liberated subjectivity must now -be perfected and satisfied. This process of development is seen in the -post-Aristotelian philosophy, though it finds its conditioning cause in -the character of the preceding philosophical strivings. The dualism -which formed the chief want of the systems both of Plato and Aristotle, -has forced itself upon our attention at every step. The attempt which -had been made, with the greatest expenditure of which the Grecian mind -was capable, to refer back to one ultimate ground both subject and -object, mind and matter, had produced no satisfactory result; and these -two oppositions, around which all previous philosophy had struggled in -vain, still remained disconnected. Wearied with the fruitless attempts -at mediation, the subject now breaks with the objective world. Its -attention is directed towards itself in its own self-consciousness. The -result of this gives us either STOICISM, where the moral subject appears -in the self-sufficiency of the sage to whom every external good and -every objective work is indifferent, and who finds a good only in a -moral activity; or EPICUREANISM, where the subject delights itself in -the inner feeling of pleasure and the calm repose of a satisfied heart, -enjoying the present and the past, and never fearing the future while it -sees in the objective world only a means by which it can utter itself; -or, again, Scepticism, where the subject, doubting and rejecting all -objective truth and science, appears in the apathy of the Sceptic, who -has broken both theoretically and practically with the objective world. -In fine, NEW-PLATONISM, the last of the ancient philosophical systems, -bears this same character of subjectivity, for this whole system turns -upon the exaltation of the subject to the absolute, and wherever it -speculates respecting God and his relation to man, it is alone in order -to establish the progressive transition from the absolute object to the -human personality. The ruling principle in it all is the interest of the -subjectivity, and the fact that in this system there are numerous -objective determinations, is only because the subject has become -absolute. - - - - -SECTION XVII. - -STOICISM. - - -Zeno, of Cittium, a city of Cyprus, an elder contemporary of Antigonus -Gonatas, king of Macedon, is generally given as the founder of the -Stoical school. Deprived of his property by shipwreck, he took refuge in -philosophy, incited also by an inner bias to such pursuits. He at first -became a disciple of the Cynic Crateas, then of Stilpo, one of the -Megarians, and lastly he betook himself to the Academy, where he heard -the lessons of Xenocrates and Polemo. Hence the eclectic character of -his teaching. It has in fact been charged against him, that differing -but little if at all from the earlier schools, he attempted to form a -school of his own, with a system wherein he had changed nothing but -names. He opened a school at Athens, in the "variegated porch," so -called from the paintings of Polygnotus, with which it was adorned, -whence his adherents received the name of "philosophers of the porch" -(Stoics). Zeno is said to have presided over his school for fifty-eight -years, and at a very advanced age to have put an end to his existence. -He is praised for the temperance and the austerity of his habits, while -his abstemiousness is proverbial. The monument in his honor, erected -after his death by the Athenians, at the instance of Antigonus, bore the -high but simple eulogium that his life had been in unison with his -philosophy. _Cleanthes_ was the successor of Zeno in the Stoic school, -and faithfully carried out the method of his master. Cleanthes was -succeeded by _Chrysippus_, who died about 208 B. C. He has been regarded -as the chief prop of this school, in which respect it was said of him, -that without a Chrysippus there would never have been a Porch. At all -events, as Chrysippus was an object of the greatest veneration, and of -almost undisputed authority with the later Stoics, he ought to be -considered as the principal founder of the school. He was a writer so -voluminous, that his works have been said to amount to seven hundred and -five, among which, however, were repeated treatises upon the same -propositions, and citations without measure from poets and historians, -given to prove and illustrate his opinions. Not one of all his writings -has come down to us. Chrysippus closes the series of the philosophers -who founded the Porch. The later heads of the school, as _Panætius_, the -friend of the younger Scipio (his famous work De Officiis, Cicero has -elaborated in his treatise of the same name), and _Posidonius_, may be -classed with Cicero, Pompeius, and others, and were eclectic in their -teachings. The Stoics have connected philosophy most intimately with the -duties of practical life. Philosophy is with them the practice of -wisdom, the exercise of virtue. Virtue and science are with them one, in -so far at least that they divide virtue in reference to philosophy into -physical, ethical, and logical. But though they go on according to this -threefold division, and treat of logic and physics, and though they even -rank physics higher than either of the other sciences, regarding it as -the mother of the ethical and the science of the Divine, yet do we find -their characteristic standpoint most prominently in their theory of -morals. - -1. LOGIC.--We have already said that it is the breach between subject and -object, which forms the basis of all post-Aristotelian philosophy. The -beginning of this philosophy of subjectivity is found with the Stoics. -The feature most worthy of notice in their logic, is the striving after -a subjective criterion of the truth, by which they might distinguish the -true representation from the false. Since they limited all scientific -knowledge to the knowledge of the senses, they found this criterion in -that which was evident in the sensuous impression. They conceived that -they had answered the whole problem, in affirming that the true or -conceivable representation reveals not only itself, but also its object: -it, they said, is nothing else than a representation which is produced -by a present object in a manner like itself. - -2. PHYSICS.--In their physics, where they follow for the most part -Heraclitus, the Stoics are distinguished from their predecessors, -especially from Plato and Aristotle, by their thoroughly carried out -proposition that nothing uncorporeal exists, that every thing essential -is corporeal (just as in their logic they had sought to derive all -knowledge from the sensuous perception). This sensualism or materialism -of the Stoics which, as we have seen in their logic, lies at the basis -of their theory of knowledge, might seem foreign to all their moral and -idealistic tendencies, but is clearly explained from their subjective -standpoint, for, when the thought has become so intensely engrossed in -the subject, the objective world can only be regarded as a corporeal and -material existence. The most immediate consequence of such a view is -their pantheism. Aristotle before them had separated the Divine Being -from the world, as the pure and eternal form from the eternal matter; -but so far as this separation implied a distinction which was not simply -logical, but actual and real, the Stoics would not admit it. It seemed -to them impossible to dissever God from matter, and they therefore -considered God and the world as power and its manifestation, and thus as -one. Matter is the passive ground of things, the original substratum for -the divine activity: God is the active and formative energy of matter -dwelling within it, and essentially united to it: the world is the body -of God, and God is the soul of the world. The Stoics, therefore, -considered God and matter as one identical substance, which, on the side -of its passive and changeable capacity they call matter, and on the side -of its active and changeless energy, God. But since they, as already -remarked, considered the world as ensouled by God in the light of a -living and rational being, they were obliged to treat the conception of -God not only in a physical but also in its ethical aspect. God is not -only in the world as the ruling and living energy of this great [Greek: -zôon] (animal), but he is also the universal reason which rules the -whole world and penetrates all matter; he is the gracious Providence -which cares for the individual and the whole; he is wise, and is the -ground of that natural law which commands the good and forbids the evil; -he punishes and rewards; he possesses a perfect and blessed life. But -accustomed to regard every thing spiritual only in a sensuous way, the -Stoics were obliged to clothe this ideal conception of God in a material -form, apprehending it as the vital warmth or an original fire, analogous -to the view of the earlier natural philosophers, who held that the soul, -and even reason itself, consisted in the vital warmth. The Stoics -express this thought in different ways. At one time they call God the -rational breath which passes through all nature; at another, the -artistic fire which fashions or begets the universe; and still again the -ether; which, however, they hardly distinguish from the artistic fire. -From these varying views, we see that it did not belong to the Stoics to -represent the conception of God in any determinate kind of existence. -They availed themselves of these expressions only to indicate that God, -as the universal animating energy in the world, could not be -disconnected from a corporeal agency. This identification of God and the -world, according to which the Stoics regarded the whole formation of the -universe as but a period in the development of God, renders their -remaining doctrine concerning the world very simple. Every thing in the -world seemed to them to be permeated by the divine life, and was -regarded as but the flowing out of this most perfect life through -certain channels, until it returned in a necessary circle back again to -itself. It is not necessary here to speak more closely of the physics of -this school. - -3. THE ETHICS.--The ethics of the Stoics is most closely connected with -their physics. In the physics we saw the rational order of the universe -as it existed through the divine thought. In the ethics, the highest law -of human action, and thus the whole moral legality of life is dependent -upon this rational order and conformity to law in universal nature, and -the highest good or the highest end of our strivings is to shape our -life according to this universal law, to live in conformity with the -harmony of the world or with nature. "Follow nature," or "live in -harmony with nature," is the moral maxim of the Stoics. More accurately: -live in harmony with thy rational nature so far as this has not been -distorted nor refined by art, but is held in its natural simplicity. - -From this moral principle, in which we have also the Stoic conception of -virtue, the peculiarities of their theory of morals follow with logical -necessity. - -(1.) _Respecting the Relation of Virtue to Pleasure._--When the demand is -made that the life should be in conformity with nature, the individual -becomes wholly subjected to the universal, and every personal end is -excluded. Hence pleasure, which of all ends is the most individual, must -be disregarded. In pleasure that activity in which blessedness consists -is abated, and this could only appear to the Stoics as a restraint of -life, and thus as an evil. Pleasure is not in conformity with nature, -and is no end of nature, says Cleanthes; and though other Stoics relax a -little from the strictness of this opinion, and admit that pleasure may -be according to nature, and is to be considered in a certain degree as a -good, yet they all held fast to the doctrine, that it has no moral worth -and is no end of nature, but is only something which is accidentally -connected with the free and fitting activity of nature, while itself is -not an activity, but a passive condition of the soul. In this lies the -whole severity of the Stoic doctrine of morals; every thing personal is -cast aside, every external end of action is foreign to the moral man, -the action in wisdom is the only good. From this follows directly: - -(2.) _The View of the Stoics Concerning External Good._--If virtue, as -the activity in conformity to nature, is exclusively a good, and if it -alone can lead to happiness, then external good of every kind is -something morally indifferent, and can neither be the object of our -striving nor the end of any moral action. The action itself and not that -towards which it tends is good. Hence such special ends as health, -wealth, &c., are in themselves worthless and indifferent. They may -result either in good or evil, and when deprived of them the happiness -of the virtuous man is not destroyed. The Stoics yield from the rigor of -their fundamental principle only in a single instance. They admit that -there may be a distinction among indifferent things; that while none of -these can be called a moral good, yet some may be preferable to others, -and that the preferable, so far as it contributes to a life in -conformity to nature, should enter into the account of a moral life. So -the sage will prefer health and wealth when these are balanced in the -choice with sickness and poverty, but though these objects have been -rationally chosen, he does not esteem them as really good, for they are -not the highest, they are inferior to the virtuous acting, in comparison -with which every thing else sinks to insignificance. In making this -distinction between the good and the preferable, we see how the Stoics -exclude from the good every thing relative, and hold fast to it alone in -its highest significance. - -(3.) This abstract apprehension of the conception of virtue is still -farther verified in the rigid antagonism which the Stoics affirmed -between virtue and not-virtue, reason and sense. Either, they conclude, -reason is awakened in the life of man and holds the mastery over him, or -it is not awakened, and he serves his irrational instincts. In the -former case we have a good and in the latter a bad man, while between -these two cases as between virtue and vice, there is no mean. And since -virtue cannot be partially possessed, but the man must be wholly -virtuous or not at all, it follows that virtue as such is without -degree, just as truth is, and hence also all good acts are equally good, -because they spring from the full freedom of the reason, and all vicious -ones equally bad, because they are impelled by the irrational instinct. - -(4.) But this abstractedness of the moral standpoint, this rigid -opposition of reason and irrationality, of the highest good and the -individual good, of virtue and pleasure, has no power to furnish a -system of concrete moral duties. The universal moral principle of the -Stoics fails in its applicability to the individual instance. The Stoic -morals has no concrete principle of moral self-determination. How must -we act in every individual instance, in every moral relation, so as to -act according to nature? To this inquiry Stoicism can give no answer. -Its system of particular duties is thus wholly without a scientific -form, and is only held together by some universal conceptions which it -contains. For the most part they satisfy themselves with describing in -general terms the action according to nature, and with portraying their -ideal of the wise man. The characteristics which they give this ideal -are partly paradoxical. The wise man is free even in chains, for he acts -from himself unmoved by fear or desire; the wise man alone is king, for -he alone is not bound by laws and owes fealty to no one; he is the true -rich man, the true priest, prophet, and poet. He is exalted above all -law and every custom; even that which is most despicable and -base--deception, suicide, murder--he may commit at a proper time and in a -virtuous character. In a word the Stoics describe their wise man as a -god, and yield it to him to be proud and to boast of his life like Zeus. -But where shall we find such a sage? Certainly not among the living. In -the time long ago there may have been a perfect sage of such a pattern; -but now, and for a long time back, are men at best only fools who strive -after wisdom and virtue. The conception of the wise man represented, -therefore, to the Stoics only an ideal, the actualization of which we -should strive after, though without ever hoping to reach it; and yet -their system of particular duties is almost wholly occupied in -portraying this unreal and abstract ideal--a contradiction in which it is -seen most clearly that their whole standpoint is one of abstract -subjectivity. - - - - -SECTION XVIII. - -EPICUREANISM. - - -The Epicurean school arose at Athens, almost contemporaneously with the -Porch, though perhaps a little earlier than this. Epicurus, its founder, -was born 342 B.C., six years after the death of Plato. Of his youth and -education little is known. In his thirty-sixth year he opened a -philosophical school at Athens, over which he presided till his death, -271 B.C. His disciples and adherents formed a social league, in which -they were united by the closest band of friendship, illustrating the -general condition of things in Greece after the time of Alexander, when -the social took the place of the decaying poetical life. Epicurus -himself compared his society to the Pythagorean fraternity, although the -community of goods, which forms an element in the latter, Epicurus -excludes, affirming that true friends can confide in one another. The -moral conduct of Epicurus has been repeatedly assailed but, according to -the testimony of the most reliable witnesses, his life was blameless in -every respect, and his personal character was estimable and amiable. -Moreover, it cannot be doubted that much of that, which is told by some, -of the offensive voluptuousness of the Epicurean band, should be -regarded as calumny. Epicurus was a voluminous writer, surpassing, in -this respect, even Aristotle, and exceeded by Chrysippus alone. To the -loss of his greater works he has himself contributed, by his practice of -composing summaries of his system, which he recommended his disciples to -commit to memory. These summaries have been for the most part preserved. - -The end which Epicurus proposed to himself in science is distinctly -revealed in his definition of philosophy. He calls it an activity which, -by means of conceptions and arguments, procures the happiness of life. -Its end is, therefore, with him essentially a practical one, and on this -account the object of his whole system is to produce a scheme of morals -which should teach us how we might inevitably attain a happy life. It is -true that the Epicureans adopted the usual division of philosophy into -logic, which they called canonics, physics, and ethics; but they -confined logic to the doctrine of the criterion of truth, and considered -it only as an instrument and introduction to physics, while they only -treated of physics as existing wholly for ethics, and being necessary in -order to free men from superstitious fear, and deliver them from the -power of fables and mythical fancies concerning nature, which might -hinder the attainment of happiness. We have therefore in Epicureanism -the three old parts of philosophy, but in a reversed order, since logic -and physics here stand as the handmaids of ethics. We shall confine -ourselves in our exposition to the latter, since the Epicurean canonics -and physics offer little scientific interest, and since the physics -especially is not only very incomplete and without any internal -connection, but rests entirely upon the atomic theory of Democritus. - -Epicurus, like Aristotle and the other philosophers of his day, placed -the highest good in happiness, or a happy life. More closely he makes -pleasure to be the principal constituent of happiness, and even calls it -the highest good. But Epicurus goes on to give a more accurate -determination of pleasure, and in this he differs essentially from his -predecessors, the Cyrenians. (_cf._ § XIII. 3.) - -1. While with Aristippus the pleasure of the moment is made the end of -human efforts, Epicurus directs men to strive after a system of -pleasures which should insure an abiding course of happiness for the -whole life. _True_ pleasure is thus the object to be considered and -weighed. Many a pleasure should be despised because it will result in -pain, and many a pain should be rejoiced in because it would lead to a -greater pleasure. - -2. Since the sage will seek after the highest good, not simply for the -present but for his whole life, he will hold the pleasures and pains of -the soul, which like memory and hope stretch over the past and the -future, in greater esteem than those of the body, which relate only to -the present moment. The pleasure of the soul consists in the untroubled -tranquillity of the sage, who rests secure in the feeling of his inner -worth and his exaltation above the strokes of destiny. Thus Epicurus, -would say that it is better to be miserable but rational than to be -happy and irrational, and that the wise man might be happy though in -torture. He would even affirm, like a true follower of Aristotle, that -pleasure and happiness were most closely connected with virtue, that -virtue is in fact inseparable from true pleasure, and that there can be -no agreeable life without virtue, and no virtue without an agreeable -life. - -3. While other Hedonists would regard the most positive and intense -feeling of pleasure as the highest good, Epicurus, on the other hand, -fixed his eye on a happiness which should be abiding and for the whole -life. He would not seek the most exquisite enjoyments in order to attain -to a happy life, but he rather recommends one to be satisfied with -little, and to practise sobriety and temperance of life. He guards -himself against such a false application of his doctrine as would imply -that the pleasure of the debauchee were the highest good, and boasts -that with a little barley-bread and water he would rival Zeus in -happiness. He even expresses an aversion for all costly pleasures, not, -however, in themselves, but because of the evil consequences which they -entail. True, the Epicurean sage need not therefore live as a Cynic. He -will enjoy himself where he can without harm, and will even seek to -acquire means to live with dignity and ease. But though all these -enjoyments of life may properly belong to the sage, yet he _can_ deprive -himself of them without misery--though he _ought_ not to do so--since he -enjoys the truest and most essential pleasure in the calmness of his -soul and the tranquillity of his heart. In opposition to the positive -pleasure of some Hedonists, the theory of Epicurus expends itself in -negative conceptions, representing that freedom from pain is pleasure, -and that hence the activity of the sage should be prominently directed -to avoid that which is disagreeable. All that man does, says Epicurus, -is that he may neither suffer nor apprehend pain, and in another place -he remarks, that not to live is far from being an evil. Hence death, for -which men have the greatest terror, the wise man does not fear. For -while we live, death is not, and when death is, we are not; when it is -present we feel it not, for it is the end of all feeling, and that, -which by its presence cannot affect our happiness, ought not, when -thought of as a future, to trouble us. Here Epicurus must bear the -censure urged against him by the ancients, that he does not recognize -any positive end of life, and that the object after which his sage -should strive is a mere passionless state. - -The crown of Epicurus's view of the universe is his doctrine of the -gods, where he has carried over his ideal of happiness. To the gods -belong a human form, though without any fixed body or human wants. In -the void space they lead an undisturbed and changeless life, whose -happiness is incapable of increase. From the blessedness of the gods he -inferred that they had nothing to do with the management of our affairs, -for blessedness is repose, and on this account the gods neither take -trouble to themselves nor cause it to others. It may indeed be said that -these inactive gods of Epicurus, these indestructible and yet not fixed -forms, these bodies which are not bodies, have but an ill connection -with his general system, in which there is in fact no point to which his -doctrine of the gods can be fitly joined--but a strict scientific -connection is hardly the merit of this whole philosophy. - - - - -SECTION XIX. - -SCEPTICISM AND THE NEW ACADEMY. - - -This subjective direction already noticed was carried out to its -farthest extent by the Sceptics, who broke down completely the bridge -between subject and object, denying all objective truth, knowledge and -science, and wholly withdrawing the philosopher from every thing but -himself and his own subjective estimates. In this direction we may -distinguish between the old Scepticism, the new Academy, and the later -Scepticism. - -1. THE OLD SCEPTICISM.--_Pyrrho_ of Elis, who was perhaps a cotemporary -of Aristotle, was the head of the old Sceptics. He left no writings -behind him, and we are dependent for a knowledge of his opinions upon -his scholar and follower, Timon of Phlius. The tendency of these -sceptical philosophers, like that of the Stoics and Epicureans, was a -practical one, for philosophy, said they, ought to lead us to happiness. -But in order to live happily we must know how things are, and, -therefore, in what kind of a relation we stand to them. The first of -these questions the Sceptics answered by attempting to show that all -things, without exception, are indifferent as to truth and falsehood, -uncertain, and in nowise subject to man's judgment. Neither our senses -nor our opinions concerning any thing teach us any truth; to every -precept and to every position a contrary may be advanced, and hence the -contradictory views of men, and especially of the philosophies of the -schools respecting one and the same thing. All objective knowledge and -science being thus impossible, the true relation of the philosopher to -things consists in the entire suspension of judgment, and the -withholding of every positive assertion. In order to avoid every thing -like a positive assertion, the Sceptics had recourse to a variety of -artifices, and availed themselves of doubtful modes of expression, such -as _it is possible_; _it may be so_; _perhaps_; _I assert -nothing_,--cautiously subjoining to this last--_not even that I assert -nothing_. By this suspension of judgment the Sceptics thought they could -attain their practical end, happiness; for the abstinence from all -positive opinion is followed by a freedom from all mental disturbance, -as a substance is by a shadow. He who has embraced Scepticism lives -thenceforward tranquilly, without inquietude, without agitation, with an -equable state of mind, and, in fact, divested of his humanity. Pyrrho is -said to have originated the doctrine which lies at the basis of -sceptical apathy, that no difference exists between sickness and health, -or between life and death. The Sceptics, for the most part, derived the -material for their views from the previous investigations in the -dogmatic schools. But the grounds on which they rested were far from -being profound, and were for the most part either dialectic errors which -could easily be refuted, or mere subtleties. The use of the following -ten tropes is ascribed to the old Sceptics, though these were perhaps -not definitely brought out by either Pyrrho or Timon, but were probably -first collected by Ænesidemus, soon after the time of Cicero. The -withholding of all decisive judgment may rest; (1) upon the distinction -generally existing between individual living objects; (2) upon the -difference among men; (3) the different functions of the organs of -sense; (4) the circumstances under which objects appear; (5) the -relative positions, intervals, and places; (6) intermixtures; (7) the -quantities and modifications of the objects we perceive; (8) relations; -(9) the frequent or rare occurrence; (10) the different ways of life, -the varieties of customs and laws, the mythical representations and -dogmatic opinions of men. - -2. THE NEW ACADEMY.--Scepticism, in its conflict with the Stoics, as it -appeared in the Platonic school established by _Arcesilaus_ (316-241), -has a far greater significance than belongs to the performances of the -Pyrrhonists. In this school Scepticism sought its support by its great -respect for the writings and its transmission of the oral teachings of -Plato. Arcesilaus could neither have assumed nor maintained the chair of -instruction in the Academy, had he not carefully cherished and imparted -to his disciples the impression that his own view, respecting the -withholding of a decisive judgment, coincided essentially with that of -Socrates and of Plato, and if he had not also taught that he only -restored the genuine and original significance of Platonism, when he set -aside the dogmatic method of teaching. An immediate incitement to the -efforts of Arcesilaus is found in his opposition to the rigid dogmatic -system which had lately arisen in the Porch, and which claimed to be in -every respect an improvement upon Platonism. Hence, as Cicero remarks, -Arcesilaus directed all his sceptical and polemic attacks against Zeno, -the founder of Stoicism. He granted with his opponent that no -representation should form a part of undoubted knowledge, if it could -possibly have arisen through any other object than that from which it -actually sprung, but he would not admit that there might be a notion -which expressed so truly and accurately its own object, that it could -not have arisen from any other. Accordingly, Arcesilaus denied the -existence of a criterion which could certify to us the truth of our -knowledge. If there be any truth in our affirmations, said he, we cannot -be certain of it. In this sense he taught that one can know nothing, not -even that he does know nothing. But in moral matters, in choosing the -good and rejecting the evil, he taught that we should follow that which -is probable. - -Of the subsequent leaders in the new Academy, _Carneades_ (214-129) -alone need here be mentioned, whose whole philosophy, however, consists -almost exclusively in a polemic against Stoicism and in the attempt to -set up a criterion of truth. His positive performance is the attempt to -bring out a philosophical theory of probabilities. The later -Academicians fell back to an eclectic dogmaticism. - -3. THE LATER SCEPTICISM.--Once more we meet with a peculiar Scepticism at -the time when Grecian philosophy had wholly fallen to decay. To this -time belong _Ænesidemus_, who probably--though this cannot be affirmed -with certainty--lived but a little after Cicero; _Agrippa_, whose date is -also uncertain, though subsequent to Ænesidemus, and _Sextus -Empiricus_--_i. e._ a Grecian physician of the empiric sect, who probably -flourished in the first half of the third century of the Christian era. -These are the most significant names. Of these the last has the greatest -interest for us, from two writings which he left behind him (the -hypotyposes of Pyrrho in three books, and a treatise against the -mathematicians in nine books), which are sources of much historical -information. In these he has profusely collected every thing which the -Scepticism of the ancients knew how to advance against the certainty of -knowledge. - - - - -SECTION XX. - -THE ROMANS. - - -The Romans have taken no independent part in the progress of philosophy. -After Grecian philosophy and literature had begun to gain a foothold -among them, and especially after three distinguished representatives of -Attic culture and eloquence--Carneades the Academician, Critolaus the -Peripatetic, and Diogenes the Stoic--had appeared in Rome as envoys from -Athens; and after Greece, a few years later, had become a Roman -province, and thus outwardly in a close connection with Rome, almost all -the more significant systems of Grecian philosophy, especially the -Epicurean (Lucretius), and the Stoic (Seneca), flourished and found -adherents in Rome, though without gaining any real philosophical -progress. The Romish philosophizing is wholly eclectic, as is seen in -Cicero, the most important and influential philosophic writer among the -Romans. But the popular philosophy of this man and of the minds akin to -him cannot be strongly assailed, for, notwithstanding its want of -originality and logical sequence, it gave philosophy a broad -dissemination, and made it a means of universal culture. - - - - -SECTION XXI. - -NEW PLATONISM. - - -In New Platonism, the ancient mind made its last and almost despairing -attempt at a philosophy which should resolve the dualism between the -subjective and the objective. The attempt was made by taking on the one -side a subjective standpoint, like the other philosophies of the -post-Aristotelian time (_cf._ § XVI 7); and on the other with the design -to bring out objective determinations concerning the highest conceptions -of metaphysics, and concerning the absolute; in other words, to sketch a -system of absolute philosophy. In this respect the effort was made to -copy the Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy, and the claim was set up -by the new system to be a revival of the original Platonism. On both -sides the new attempt formed the closing period of an ancient -philosophy. It represents the last struggle, but at the same time the -exhaustion of the ancient thinking and the dissolution of the old -philosophy. - -The first, and also the most important, representative of New Platonism, -is _Plotinus_. He was a pupil of Ammonius Saccas, who taught the -Platonic philosophy at Alexandria in the beginning of the third century, -though he left no writings behind him. Plotinus (A. D. 205-270) from his -fortieth year taught philosophy at Rome. His opinions are contained in a -course of hastily written and not closely connected treatises, which, -after his death, were collected and published in six enneads by -_Porphyry_ (who was born A. D. 233, and taught both philosophy and -eloquence at Rome), his most noted disciple. From Rome and Alexandria, -the New Platonism of Plotinus passed over in the fourth century to -Athens, where it established itself in the Academy. In the fourth -century, _Jamblichus_, a scholar of Porphyry, and in the fifth, Proclus, -(412-485), were prominently distinguished among the New Platonists. With -the triumph of Christianity and the consequent fall of heathenism, in -the course of the sixth century, even this last bloom of Grecian -philosophy faded away. - -The common characteristic of all the New Platonists is a tendency to -mysticism, theosophy, and theurgy. The majority of them gave themselves -up to magic and sorcery, and the most distinguished boasted that they -were the subjects of divine inspiration and illumination, able to look -into the future, and to work miracles. They professed to be hierophants -as much as philosophers, and exhibited the unmistakable tendency to -represent a Pagan copy of Christianity, which should be at the same time -a philosophy and a universal religion. In the following sketch of New -Platonism we follow mainly the track of Plotinus. - -1. ECSTASY AS A SUBJECTIVE STATE.--The result of the philosophical -strivings antecedent to New Platonism had been Scepticism; which, seeing -the impracticability of both the Stoic and Epicurean wisdom, had assumed -a totally negative relation to every positive and theoretical content. -But the end which Scepticism had actually gained was the opposite of -that for which it had striven. It had striven for the perfect apathy of -the sage, but it had gained only the necessity of incessantly opposing -every positive affirmation. Instead of the rest which they had sought, -they found rather an absolute unrest. This absolute unrest of the -consciousness striving after an absolute rest, begat immediately a -longing to be freed from this unrest, a longing after some content which -should be absolutely satisfying, and stripped of every sceptical -objection. This longing after an absolutely true, found its historical -expression in New Platonism. The subject sought to master and comprehend -the absolute; and this, neither by objective knowledge nor dialectic -mediation, but immediately, by an inner and mystical mounting up of the -subject in the form of an immediate beholding, or ecstasy. The knowledge -of the true, says Plotinus, is not gained by proof nor by any mediation; -it cannot be found when the objects known remain separate from the -subject knowing, but only when the distinction between knower and known -disappears; it is a beholding of the reason in itself, not in the sense -that we see the reason, but the reason beholds itself; in no other way -can knowledge come. If any one has attained to such a beholding, to such -a true unison with the divine, he will despise the pure thinking which -he otherwise loved, for this thinking was only a movement which -presupposed a difference between the perceiver and the perceived. This -mystical absorption into the Deity, or, the One, this resolving the self -into the absolute, is that which gives to New Platonism a character so -peculiarly distinct from the genuine Grecian systems of philosophy. - -2. THE COSMICAL PRINCIPLES.--The doctrine of the three cosmical -principles is most closely connected with the theory just named. To the -two cosmical principles already received, viz., the world-soul and the -world-reason, a third and higher one was added by the New Platonists. -For if the reason apprehends the true by means of thinking, and not -within itself alone; if, in order to grasp the absolute and behold the -divine, it must lose its own self-consciousness, and go out beyond -itself, then reason cannot be the highest principle, but there stands -above it that primal essence, with which it must be united if it will -behold the true. To this primal essence Plotinus gives different names, -as "the first," "the one," "the good," and "that which stands above -being" (being is with him but a conception, which, like the reason, may -be resolved into a higher ground, and which, united with the reason, -forms but the second step in the series of highest conceptions). In all -these names, Plotinus does not profess to have satisfactorily expressed -the essence of this primal one, but only to have given a representation -of it. In characterizing it still farther, he denies it all thinking and -willing, because it needs nothing and can desire nothing; it is not -energy, but above energy; life does not belong to it; neither being nor -essence nor any of the most general categories of being can be ascribed -to it; in short, it is that which can neither be expressed nor thought. -Plotinus has thoroughly striven to think of this first principle not as -first principle, _i. e._ not in its relation to that of which it is the -ground, but only in itself, as being wholly without reference either to -us or to any thing else. This pure abstraction, however, he could not -carry out. He sets himself to show how every thing else, and especially -the two other cosmical principles, could emanate from this first; but in -order to have a principle for his emanation theory, he was obliged to -consider the first in its relation to the second and as its producer. - -3. THE EMANATION THEORY OF THE NEW PLATONISTS.--Every emanation theory, -and hence also that of the New Platonists, considers the world as the -effluence of God, and gives to the emanation a greater or less degree of -perfection, according as it is nearer or more remote from its source. -They all have for their principle the totality of being, and represent a -progressively ascending relation in its several parts. Fire, says -Plotinus, emits heat, snow cold, fragrant bodies odors, and every -organic thing so far as it is perfect begets something like itself. In -the same way the all-perfect and the eternal, in the overflowing of his -perfection sends out from himself that which is also eternal, and after -him, the best, viz., the reason or world-intelligence, which is the -immediate reflection and image of the primal one. Plotinus abounds in -figures to show how the primal one need lose nothing nor become weakened -by this emanation of reason. Next to the original one, reason is the -most perfect. It contains in itself the ideal world, and the whole of -true and changeless being. Some notion may be formed of its exaltation -and glory by carefully beholding the sensible world in its greatness, -its beauty, and the order of its ceaseless motion, and then by rising to -contemplate its archetype in the pure and changeless being of the -intelligible world, and then by recognizing in intelligence the author -and finisher of all. In it there is neither past nor future, but only an -ever abiding present. It is, moreover, as incapable of division in space -as of change in time. It is the true eternity, which is only copied by -time. As reason flows from the primal one, so does the world-soul -eternally emanate from reason, though the latter incurs no change -thereby. The world-soul is the copy of reason, permeated by it, and -actualizing it in an outer world. It gives ideas externally to sensible -matter, which is the last and lowest step in the series of emanations -and in itself is undetermined, and has neither quality nor being. In -this way the visible universe is but the transcript of the world-soul, -which forms it out of matter, permeates and animates it, and carries it -forward in a circle. Here closes the series of emanations, and, as was -the aim of the theory, we have been carried in a constant current from -the highest to the lowest, from God to the mere image of true being, or -the sensible world. - -Individual souls, like the world-soul, are linked both to the higher and -the lower, to reason and the sensible; now bound with the latter and -sharing its destiny, and anon rising to their source in reason. Their -original and proper home was in the rational world, from whence they -have come down, each one in its proper time, into the corporeal; not, -however, wholly forsaking their ideal abode, but as a sunbeam touches at -the same time the sun and the earth, so are they found alike in the -world of reason and the world of sense. Our calling, therefore--and here -we come back to the point from which we started in our exhibition of New -Platonism--can only be to direct our senses and aspirations towards our -proper home, in the ideal world, and by asceticism and crucifying of the -flesh, to free our better self from its participation with the body. But -when our soul has once mounted up to the ideal world, that image of the -originally good and beautiful, it then attains the final goal of all its -longings and efforts, the immediate union with God, through the -enraptured beholding of the primal one in which it loses its -consciousness and becomes buried and absorbed. - -According to all this, the New Platonic philosophy would seem to be a -monism, and thus the most perfect development of ancient philosophy, in -so far as this had striven to carry back the sum of all being to one -ultimate ground. But as it attained its highest principle from which all -the rest was derived, by means of ecstasy, by a mystical -self-destruction of the individual person (_Ichheit_), by asceticism and -theurgy, and not by means of self-conscious thinking, nor by any natural -or rational way, it is seen that ancient philosophy, instead of becoming -perfected in New Platonism, only makes a despairing leap beyond itself -to its own self-destruction. - - - - -SECTION XXII. - -CHRISTIANITY AND SCHOLASTICISM. - - -1. THE CHRISTIAN IDEA.--The Grecian intellectual life at the time of its -fairest bloom, was characterized by the immediate sacrifice of the -subject to the object (nature, the state, &c.): the full breach between -the two, between spirit and nature, had not yet arrived; the subject had -not yet so far reflected upon himself that he could apprehend his own -absolute worth. This breach came in, with the decay of Grecian life, in -the time after Alexander the Great. As the objective world lost its -influence, the thinking consciousness turned back upon itself; but even -in this very process, the bridge between subject and object was broken -down. The self-consciousness had not yet become sufficiently absorbed in -itself to look upon the true, the divine, in any other light than as -separate from itself, and belonging to an opposite world; while a -feeling of pain, of unsatisfied desire, took the place of that fair -unity between spirit and nature which had been peculiar to the better -periods of the Grecian civil and artistic life. New Platonism, by its -overleaping speculation, and, practically, by its mortification of the -sense, made a last and despairing attempt to overcome this separation, -or to bury itself within it, by bringing the two sides forcibly -together. The attempt was in vain, and the old philosophy, totally -exhausted, came to its end. Dualism is therefore the rock on which it -split. This problem, thus left without a solution, Christianity took up. -It assumed for its principle the idea which the ancient thinking had not -known how to carry out, affirming that the separation between God and -man might be overcome, and that the human and the divine could be united -in one. The speculative fundamental idea of Christianity is, that God -has become incarnate, and this had its practical exhibition (for -Christianity was a practical religion) in the idea of the atonement and -the demand of the new birth, _i. e._ the positive purifying of the sense -from its corruptions, instead of holding it, as asceticism, in a merely -negative relation. - -From the introduction of Christianity, monism has been the character and -the fundamental tendency of the whole modern philosophy. In fact, the -new philosophy started from the very point at which the old had stood -still. The turning of the self-consciousness upon itself, which was the -standpoint of the post-Aristotelian speculations, forms in Descartes the -starting-point of the new philosophy, whose whole course has been the -reconciling of that opposition beyond which the old could not pass. - -2. SCHOLASTICISM.--It very early resulted that Christianity came in -contact with the cotemporaneous philosophy, especially with Platonism. -This arose first with the apologists of the second century, and the -fathers of the Alexandrian church. Subsequently, in the ninth century, -Scotus Erigena made an attempt to combine Christianity with New -Platonism, though it was not till the second half of the Middle Ages, -from the eleventh century, that there was developed any thing that might -be properly termed a Christian philosophy. This was the so-called -Scholasticism. - -The effort of Scholasticism was to mediate between the dogma of religion -and the reflecting self-consciousness; to reconcile faith and knowledge. -When the dogma passed over into the schools from the Church which had -given it utterance, and theology became a science of the universities, -the scientific interest asserted its rights, and undertook to bring the -dogma which had hitherto stood over against the self-consciousness as an -external power, into a closer relation to the thinking subject. A series -of attempts was now made to bring out the doctrines of the Church in the -form of scientific systems (the first complete dogmatic system was given -by _Peter Lombard_, who died 1164, in his four books of sentences, and -was voluminously commented upon by the later Scholastics), all starting -from the indisputable premise (beyond which scholastic thinking never -reached), that the faith of the church is absolute truth; but all guided -likewise by the interest to make this revealed truth intelligible, and -to show it to be rational. "_Credo ut intelligam_"--this expression of -_Anselm_, the beginner and founder of Scholasticism (he was born about -1034, and made Archbishop of Canterbury in 1093), was the watchword of -this whole direction. Scholasticism applied to the solution of its -problem the most remarkable logical acumen, and brought out systems of -doctrine like the Gothic cathedrals in their architecture. The extended -study of Aristotle, called _par eminence_ "the philosopher," whom many -of the most distinguished Scholastics wrote commentaries upon, and who -was greatly studied at the same period among the Arabians (_Avicenna_ -and _Averroes_), furnished their terminology and most of their points of -view. At the summit of Scholasticism we must place the two incontestably -greatest masters of the Scholastic art and method, _Thomas Aquinas_ -(Dominican, who died 1274) and _Duns Scotus_ (Franciscan, who died -1308), the founders of two schools, in which since their time the whole -Scholastic theology divides itself--the former exalting the understanding -(_intellectus_), and the latter the will (_voluntas_), as their highest -principle, both being driven into essentially differing directions by -this opposition of a theoretical and a practical principle. Even with -this began the downfall of Scholasticism; its highest point was also the -turning-point to its self-destruction. The rationality of the dogma, the -oneness of faith and knowledge, had been constantly their fundamental -premise; but this premise fell away, and the whole basis of their -metaphysics was given up in principle, the moment Duns Scotus placed the -problem of theology in the practical. When the practical and the -theoretical became divided, and still more when thought and being were -separated by Nominalism (_cf._ 3), philosophy broke loose from theology -and knowledge from faith; knowledge assumed its position above faith and -above authority (modern philosophy), and the religious consciousness -broke with the traditional dogma (the Reformation). - -3. NOMINALISM AND REALISM.--Hand in hand with the whole development of -Scholasticism, there was developed the opposition between Nominalism and -Realism, an opposition whose origin is to be found in the relation of -Scholasticism to the Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy. The -Nominalists were those who held that the conceptions of the universal -(the universalia) were simple names, _flatus vocis_, representations -without content and without reality. According to them there are no -universal conceptions, no species, no class; every thing which is, -exists only as separate in its pure individuality; there is, therefore, -no pure thinking, but only a representation and sensuous perception. The -Realists, on the other hand, taking pattern from Plato, held fast to the -objective reality of the universals (_universalia ante rem_). These -opposite directions appeared first between _Roscellinus_, who took the -side of Nominalism, and _Anselm_, who advocated the Realistic theory, -and it is seen from this time through the whole period of Scholasticism, -though from the age of _Abelard_ (born 1079) a middle view, which was -both Nominalistic and Realistic, held with some slight modifications the -prominent place (_universalia in re_). According to this view the -universal is only something thought and represented, though as such it -is not simply a product of the representing consciousness, but has also -its objective reality in objects themselves, from which it was argued we -could not abstract it if it were not essentially contained in them. This -identity of thought and being, is the fundamental premise on which the -whole dialectic course of the Scholastics rests. All their arguments are -founded on the claim, that that which has been syllogistically proved is -in reality the same as in logical thinking. If this premise is -overthrown, so falls with it the whole basis of Scholasticism; and there -remains nothing more for the thinker to do, who has gone astray in his -objectivity, but to fall back upon himself. This self-dissolution of -Scholasticism actually appears with _William of Occam_ (died 1347), the -most influential reviver of that Nominalism which had been so mighty in -the beginning of Scholasticism, but which now, more victorious against a -decaying than then against a rising form of culture, plucked away its -foundation from the framework of Scholastic dogmatism, and brought the -whole structure into inevitable ruin. - - - - -SECTION XXIII. - -TRANSITION TO THE MODERN PHILOSOPHY. - - -The emancipation of modern philosophy from the bondage of Scholasticism -was a gradual process. It first showed itself in a series of preparative -movements during the fifteenth century, and became perfected, -negatively, in the course of the sixteenth, and positively in the first -half of the seventeenth century. - -1. FALL OF SCHOLASTICISM.--The immediate ground of this changed direction -of the time, we have already seen in the inner decay of Scholasticism -itself. Just so soon as the fundamental premise on which the Scholastic -theology and method rested, the rationality of the dogma, was abandoned, -the whole structure, as already remarked, fell to inevitable ruin. The -conviction, directly opposed to the principle of Scholasticism, that -what might be true dogmatically, might be false, or, at least, incapable -of proof in the eye of the reason--a point of view from which _e. g._ the -Aristotelian _Pomponatius_ (1462-1530) treated the doctrines of the -future state, and in whose light _Vanini_ subsequently went over the -chief problems of philosophy--kept gaining ground, notwithstanding the -opposition of the Church, and even associated with itself the opinion -that reason and revelation could not be harmonized. The feeling became -prevalent that philosophy must be freed from its previous condition of -minority and servitude; a struggle after a greater independence of -philosophic investigation was awakened, and though no one yet ventured -to attack directly the doctrine of the Church, the effort was made to -shatter the confidence in the chief bulwark of Scholasticism, the -Aristotelian philosophy, or what at that period was regarded as such; -(especially in this connection _Peter Ramus_, (1515-1572) should be -mentioned, who fell in the massacre of St. Bartholomew). The authority -of the Church became more and more weakened in the faith of the people, -and the great principles of Scholasticism came to an end. - -2. THE RESULTS OF SCHOLASTICISM.--Notwithstanding all, Scholasticism was -not without its positively good results. Though standing wholly in the -service of the Church, it had, nevertheless, grown out of a scientific -impulse, and so naturally awakened a free spirit of inquiry and a sense -for knowledge. It made the objects of faith the objects of thought, it -raised men from the sphere of unconditional faith to the sphere of -doubt, of investigation and of knowledge, and by its very effort to -demonstrate the principles of theology it established, though against -its knowledge and design, the authority of reason. It thus introduced to -the world another principle than that of the old Church, the principle -of the thinking spirit, the self-consciousness of the reason, or at -least prepared the way for the victory of this principle. Even the -deformities and unfavorable side of Scholasticism, the many absurd -questions upon which the Scholastics divided, even their thousandfold -unnecessary and accidental distinctions, their inquisitiveness and -subtleties, all sprang from a rational principle, and grew out of a -spirit of investigation, which could only utter itself in this way under -the all powerful ecclesiastical spirit of the time. Only when it was -surpassed by the advancing spirit of the age, did Scholasticism, -falsifying its original meaning, make common cause and interest with the -old ecclesiasticism, and turned itself as the most violent opposer -against the improvements of the new period. - -3. THE REVIVAL OF LETTERS.--The revival of classic literature contributed -prominently to that change in the spirit of the age which marks the -beginning of the new epoch of philosophy. The study of the ancients, -especially of the Greeks, had almost wholly ceased in the course of the -Middle Ages; even the philosophy of Plato and Aristotle was known, for -the most part, only through Latin translations or secondary sources; no -one realized the spirit of classic life, and all sense for beauty of -form and elegant composition had passed away. The change was chiefly -brought about by means of the Greek scholars who fled from -Constantinople to Italy; the study of the ancients in the original -sources came up again; the newly discovered art of printing allowed the -classics to be widely circulated; the Medicis drew classic scholars to -their court; all this working for a far better understanding of the -ancient philosophy. _Besarion_ (died 1472) and _Ficinus_ (died 1499) -were prominent in this movement. The result was presently seen. The new -scholars contended against the stiff and uncouth manner in which the -sciences had hitherto been treated, new ideas began to circulate, and -there arose again the free, universal, thinking spirit of antiquity. In -Germany, also, classic studies found a fruitful soil. _Reuchlin_ (born -1454), _Melancthon_ and _Erasmus_, labored in this sense, and the -classic movement, hostile as it was to the Scholastic impulse, favored -most decidedly the growing tendencies to the Reformation. - -4. THE GERMAN REFORMATION.--All the elements of the new age, the struggle -against Scholasticism, the revival of letters and the more enlarged -culture thus secured, the striving after national independence, the -attempts of the state to free itself from the Church and the hierarchy, -and above all, the desire of the thinking self-consciousness for -autonomy, for freedom from the fetters of authority--all these elements -found their focus and point of union in the German Reformation. Though -having its root at first in practical, and religious, and national -interests, and expending itself mainly upon the Christian doctrine and -Church, yet was the Reformation in principle and in its true -consequences a rupture of the thinking spirit with authority, a -protesting against the fetters of the positive, a return of the mind -from its self-estrangement to itself. From that which was without, the -mind now came back to that which is within, and the purely human as -such, the individual heart and conscience, the subjective conviction, in -a word, the rights of the subject now began to be of worth. While -marriage had formerly been regarded, though not immoral, as yet inferior -to continence and celibacy, it appeared now as a divine institution, a -natural law ordained of God. While poverty had formerly been esteemed -higher than wealth, and the contemplative life of the monk was superior -to the manual labor of the layman supporting himself by his own toil, -yet now poverty ceased to be desirable in itself, and labor was no -longer despised. Ecclesiastical freedom took the place of spiritual -bondage; monasticism and the priesthood lost their power. In the same -way, on the side of knowledge the individual man came back to himself, -and threw off the restraints of authority. He was impressed with the -conviction that the whole process of redemption must be experienced -within himself, that his reconciliation to God and salvation was his own -concern, for which he needed no mediation of priests, and that he stood -in an immediate relation to God. He found his whole being in his faith, -in the depth of his feelings and convictions. - -Since thus Protestantism sprang from the essence of the same spirit in -which modern philosophy had its birth, the two have the closest relation -to each other, though of course there is a specific difference between -the religious and the scientific principle. Yet in their origin, both -kinds of Protestantism, that of religion and that of thought, are one -and the same, and in their progress they have also gone hand in hand -together. For religion, reduced to its simple elements, will be found to -have its source, like philosophy, in the self-knowledge of the reason. - -5. THE ADVANCEMENT OF THE NATURAL SCIENCES.--To all these phenomena, -which should be regarded both as causes and as symptoms of the -intellectual revolution of this period, we must add yet another, which -essentially facilitated and gave a positive assistance to the freedom of -the mind from the fetters of authority--the starting up of the natural -sciences and the inductive method of examining nature. This epoch was a -period of the most fruitful and influential discoveries in nature. The -discovery of America and the passage to the East Indies had already -widened the circle of view, but still greater revolutions are connected -with the name of a _Copernicus_ (died 1543), _Kepler_ (died 1630), and -_Galileo_ (died 1642), revolutions which could not remain, without an -influence upon the whole mode of thinking of that age, and which -contributed prominently to break the faith in the prevailing -ecclesiastical authority. Scholasticism had turned away from nature and -the phenomenal world, and, blind towards that which lay before the very -eyes, had spent itself in a dreamy intellectuality; but now nature rose -again in honor; her glory and exaltation, her infinite diversity and -fulness of life became again the immediate objects of observation; to -investigate nature became an essential object of philosophy, and -scientific empiricism was thus regarded as a universal and essential -concern of the thinking man. From this time the natural sciences date -their historical importance, for only from this time have they had an -uninterrupted history. The results of this new intellectual movement can -be readily estimated. Such a scientific investigation of nature not only -destroyed a series of traditional errors and prejudices, but, what was -of greater importance, it directed the intellectual interest towards -that which is real and actual, it nourished and protected the -self-thinking and feeling of self-dependence, the spirit of inquiry and -proof. The standpoint of observation and experiment presupposes an -independent self-consciousness of the individual, a breaking loose from -authority--in a word, scepticism, with which, in fact, the founders of -modern philosophy, _Bacon_ and _Descartes_, began; the former by -conditioning the knowledge of nature upon the removal of all prejudice -and every preconceived opinion, and the latter by demanding that -philosophy should be begun with universal doubt. No wonder that a bitter -struggle should soon break out between the natural sciences and -ecclesiastical orthodoxy, which could only result in breaking the power -of the latter. - -6. BACON OF VERULAM.--Francis of Verulam was born in 1561, and was Lord -High Chancellor of England and keeper of the king's seal under James I. -From these offices he was subsequently expelled, and died in 1626, with -a character which has not been without reproach. He took as his -principle the inductive method, which he directed expressly against -Scholasticism and the ruling scientific method. On this account he is -frequently placed at the head of modern philosophy. - -The sciences, says Bacon, have hitherto been in a most sad condition. -Philosophy, wasted in empty and fruitless logomachies, has failed during -so many centuries to bring out a single work or experiment of actual -benefit to human life. Logic hitherto has served more to the -establishment of error than to the investigation of truth. Whence all -this? Why this penury of the sciences? Simply because they have broken -away from their root in nature and experience. The blame of this is -chargeable to many sources; first, the old and rooted prejudice that the -human mind loses somewhat of its dignity when it busies itself much and -continuously with experiments and material things; next, superstition -and a blind religious zeal, which has been the most irreconcilable -opposer to natural philosophy; again, the exclusive attention paid to -morals and politics by the Romans, and since the Christian era to -theology by every acute mind; still farther, the great authority which -certain philosophers have professed, and the great reverence given, to -antiquity; and in fine, a want of courage and a despair of overcoming -the many and great difficulties which lie in the way of the -investigation of nature. All these causes have contributed to keep down -the sciences. Hence they must now be renewed, and regenerated, and -reformed in their most fundamental principles; there must now be found a -new basis of knowledge and new principles of science. This radical -reformation of the sciences depends upon two conditions, objectively -upon the referring of science to experience and the philosophy of -nature, and subjectively upon the purifying of the sense and the -intellect from all abstract theories and traditional prejudices. Both -conditions furnish the correct method of natural science, which is -nothing other than the method of induction. Upon a true induction -depends all the soundness of the sciences. - -In these propositions the Baconian philosophy is contained. The -historical significance of its founder is, therefore, in general -this,--that he directed the attention and reflection of his -contemporaries again upon the given actuality, upon nature; that he -affirmed the necessity of experience, which had been formerly only a -matter of accident, and made it as in and for itself an object of -thought. His merit consists in having brought up the principle of -scientific empiricism, and only in this. Strictly speaking, we can allow -no _content_ to the Baconian philosophy, although (in his treatise _de -augmentis scientiarum_) he has attempted a systematic encyclopedia of -the sciences according to a new principle of classification, through -which he has scattered an abundance of fine and fruitful observations, -which are still used as apothegms. - -7. THE ITALIAN PHILOSOPHERS OF THE TRANSITION EPOCH.--Besides Bacon, -other phenomena must be noticed which have prepared and introduced the -new age of philosophy. First among these is a list of Italian -philosophers, from the second half of the sixteenth and the first half -of the seventeenth century. These philosophers are connected in a -twofold manner with the movements already sketched of this transition -period, first by an enthusiasm for nature which among them all partook -in a greater or less degree of pantheism (Vanini _e. g._ gave to one of -his writings the title "concerning the wonderful secrets of nature, the -queen and goddess of mortals"), and second, by their connection with the -systems of ancient philosophy. The best known of these philosophers are -the following: _Cardanus_ (1501-1575), _Campanella_ (1568-1639), -_Giordano Bruno_ (--1600), _Vanini_ (1586-1619.) They were all men of a -passionate, enthusiastic and impetuous nature, unsteady and wild in -character, restless and adventurous in life, men who were inspired by an -eager impulse towards knowledge, but who were carried away by great -fantasy, wildness of imagination, and a seeking after secret -astrological and geomantic knowledge. For these reasons they also passed -away, leaving no fruitful result behind. They were all persecuted by the -hierarchy, and two of them (Bruno and Vanini) ended their lives at the -stake. In their whole historical appearance they are like the eruption -of a volcano, and are to be regarded more as forerunners and announcers -than as beginners and founders of the new age of philosophy. The most -important among them is _Giordano Bruno_. He reviewed the old idea of -the Stoics, that the world is a living being, and that a world-soul -penetrates it all. The content of his general thought is the profoundest -enthusiasm for nature, and the plastic reason which is present in it. -The reason is, according to him, the inner artist who shapes the matter -and manifests himself in the forms of the universe. From the heart of -the root or the germ he sends out the lobes, and from these again he -evolves the shoots, and from the shoots the branches, until bud, and -leaf, and blossom are brought forth. Every thing is arranged, adjusted, -and perfected within. Thus the universal reason calls back from within -the sap out of the fruits and flowers to the branches again, &c. The -universe thus is an infinite living thing, in which every thing lives -and moves after the most manifold way. - -The relation of the reason to matter, Bruno determines wholly in the -Aristotelian manner; both stand related to each other as form and -matter, as actuality and potentiality, neither is without the other; the -form is the inner impelling might of matter, and matter, as the -unlimited possibility, as the capability for an infinite diversity of -form, is the mother of all forms. The other side of Bruno's -philosophizing, his elaboration of the topics of Lullus, which occupies -the greater part of his writings, has little philosophic interest, and -we therefore pass it by. - -8. JACOB BOEHME.--As Bacon among the English and Bruno among the -Italians, so _Jacob Boehme_ is the index among the Germans of this -transition period. Each one of these three indicates it in a way -peculiar to his own nationality; Bacon as the herald of empiricism, -Bruno as the representative of a poetic pantheism, and Boehme as the -father of the theosophic mysticism. If we regarded alone the -profoundness of his principle, Boehme should hold a much later place in -the history of philosophy, but if we looked chiefly at the imperfect -form of his philosophizing, his rank would be assigned to the mystics of -the Middle Ages, while chronologically we must associate him with the -German Reformation and the protestant elements that were nourished at -that time. His true position is among the forerunners and prophets of -the new age. - -Jacob Boehme was born in 1575, in old Seidenburg, a village of upper -Lusace, not far from Goerlitz. His parents were poor peasants. In his -boyhood be took care of the cattle, and in his youth, after he had -acquired the rudiments of reading and writing in a village school, he -was sent to Goerlitz to learn the shoe-maker's art. He finished his -apprenticeship and settled down at Goerlitz in 1594 as master of his -trade. Even in his youth he had received illuminations or mysterious -revealings, which were subsequently repeated when his soul, striving for -the truth, had become profoundly agitated by the religious conflicts of -the age. Besides the Bible, the only books which Boehme read were some -mystical writings of a theosophic and alchymistic content, _e. g._ those -of Paracelsus. His entire want of culture is seen as soon as he -undertakes to write down his thoughts, or, as he calls them, his -illuminations. Hence the imperious struggle of the thought with the -expression, which, however, not unfrequently rises to a dialectical -acuteness and a poetic beauty. His first treatise, Aurora, composed in -the year 1612, brought Boehme into trouble with the chief pastor in -Goerlitz, Gregorious Richter, who publicly condemned the book from the -pulpit, and even ridiculed the person of its author. The writing of -books was prohibited him by a magistrate, a prohibition which Boehme -observed for many years, till at length the command of the spirit was -too mighty within him, and he took up again his literary labors. Boehme -was a plain, quiet, modest and gentle man. He died in 1624. - -To give an exhibition of his theosophy in a few words is very difficult, -since Boehme, instead of clothing his thoughts in a logical form, -dressed them only in pictures of the sense and obscure analogies, and -often availed himself of the most arbitrary and singular modes of -expression. A twilight reigns in his writings, as in a Gothic cathedral -where the light falls through variegated windows. Hence the magic effect -which he has made upon many hearts. The chief thought of his -philosophizing is this, viz., that the distinguishing of the self from -the not-self is the essential determination of spirit, and hence of God -so far as God is to be apprehended as spirit. God, according to Boehme, -is living spirit only at the time and in the degree in which he -conceives the distinction within himself from himself, and is in this -distinction object and consciousness. The distinction of God in himself -is the only source of his and of all actuosity and spontaneity, the -spring and fountain of that self-active life which produces -consciousness out of itself. Boehme is inexhaustible in images by which -this negativity in God, his self-distinguishing and self-renunciation to -the world, may be made conceivable. The great expansion without end, he -says, needs limitation and a compass in which it may manifest itself, -for in expansion without limit there could be no manifestation, there -must be a contraction and an enclosing, in order that a manifestation -may arise. See, he says in another place, if the will were only of one -kind, then would the soul have only one quality, and were an immovable -thing, which would always lie still and never do any thing farther than -one thing; in this there could be no joy, as also no art nor science of -other things, and no wisdom; every thing would be a nothing, and there -would be neither heart nor will for any thing, for there would be only -the single. Hence it cannot be said that the whole God is in one will -and essence, there is a distinction. Nothing can ever become manifest to -itself without resistance, for if it has nothing resisting, it expends -itself and never comes to itself again; but if it does not come to -itself again except in that from which it has originally sprung, it thus -knows nothing of its original condition. The above thought Boehme -expresses when he says in his _Questionibus Theosophicis_; the reader -should know that in yea and nay all things consist, whether divine, -devilish, earthly, or whatever may be named. The one as the yea, is -simple energy and love, and is the truth of God and God himself. But -this were inconceivable, and there were neither delight, nor importance, -nor sensibility, without the nay. The nay is thrown in the way of the -yea, or of truth, in order that the truth may be manifest and something, -in which there may be a contrarium, where eternal love may work and -become sensitive and willing. There is nothing in the one which is an -occasion for willing until the one becomes duplicated, and so there can -be no sensation in unity, but only in duality. In brief, according to -Boehme, neither knowledge nor consciousness is possible, without -distinction, without opposition, without duplication; a thing becomes -clear and an object of consciousness only through something else, -through its own opposition identical with its own being. It was very -natural to connect this thought of a unity distinguishing itself in -itself, with the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, as Boehme has, in -fact, repeatedly done when treating of the Divine life and its process -of duplication. Schelling afterwards took up these ideas of Boehme and -philosophically elaborated them. - -If we should assign to the theosophy of Boehme a position in the -development of later philosophy corresponding to the inner content of -its principle, it would most properly be placed as a complement to the -system of _Spinoza_. If Spinoza taught the flowing back of all the -finite into the eternal one, Boehme, on the other hand, shows the -procession of the finite from the eternal one, and the inner necessity -of this procession, since the being of this one would be rather a -not-being without such a self-duplication. Compared with Descartes, -Boehme has at least more profoundly apprehended the conception of -self-consciousness and the relation of the finite to God. But his -historical position in other respects is far too isolated and -exceptional, and his mode of statement far too impure, to warrant us in -incorporating him anywhere in a series of systems developed continuously -and in a genetic connection. - - - - -SECTION XXIV. - -DESCARTES. - - -The beginner and founder of modern philosophy is _Descartes_. While he, -like the men of the transition epoch just noticed, broke loose entirely -from the previous philosophizing, and began his work wholly _de novo_, -yet he did not content himself, like Bacon, with merely bringing out a -new method, or like Boehme and his contemporaries among the Italians, -with affirming philosophical views without a methodical ground. He went -further than any of these, and making his standpoint one of universal -doubt, he affirms a new, positive, and pregnant philosophical principle, -from which he attempted logically to deduce the chief points of his -system. The character and novelty of his principle makes him the -beginner, and its inner fruitfulness the founder, of modern philosophy. - -Rene Descartes (_Renatus Cartesius_) was born in 1596, at La Haye in -Torraine. Possessing an independent property, he volunteered as a -soldier in his twenty-first year, and served in the wars with the Dutch, -the Bavarians, and the Imperialists. After this he travelled a good -deal, and then abode a considerable time in Paris. In 1629 he left his -native land, and betook himself to Holland, that he might there, -undisturbed and unknown, devote himself to philosophy, and elaborate his -scientific ideas. He spent twenty years in Holland, enduring much -vexatious treatment from fanatical theologians, till in 1649 he accepted -an invitation from Queen Christina of Sweden, to visit Stockholm, where -he died in the following year. - -The chief content of the Cartesian system may be seen condensed in the -following epitome. - -1. If science would have any thing fixed and abiding, it must begin with -the primal ground of things; every presupposition which we may have -cherished from infancy must be abandoned; in a word, we must doubt at -every point to which the least uncertainty is attached. We must -therefore doubt not only the existence of the objects of sense, since -the senses so frequently deceive, but also the truths of mathematics and -geometry--for, however evident the proposition may appear that two and -three make five, or that the square has four sides, yet we cannot know -but what God may have designedly formed us for erroneous judgments. It -is therefore advisable to doubt every thing, in fact to deny every -thing, to posit every thing as false. - -2. But though we posit every thing as false to which the slightest doubt -may be attached, yet we cannot deny one thing, viz., the truth that we, -who so think, do exist. But rather from the very fact that I posit every -thing as false, that I doubt every thing, is it manifest that I, the -doubter, exist. Hence the proposition: I think, therefore I am (_cogito -ergo sum_), is the first and most certain position which offers itself -to every one attempting to philosophize. Upon this the most certain of -all propositions, the certainty of all other knowledge depends. The -objection of _Gassendi_ that the truth of existence follows from any -other activity of man as well as from thinking, that I might just as -well say: I go to walk, therefore I exist,--has no weight; for, of all my -actions, I can be absolutely certain only of my thinking. - -3. From the proposition I think, therefore, I am, the whole nature of -the mind may be determined. When we examine who we are who hold every -thing to be false that is distinct from ourselves, we see clearly that -neither extension nor figure, nor any thing which can be predicated of -body, but only thought, belongs to our nature. I am therefore only a -thinking being, _i. e._ mind, soul, intelligence, reason. Thought is my -substance. Mind can therefore be apprehended clearly and completely for -itself alone, without any of those attributes which belong to body. Its -conception contains nothing of that which belongs to the conception of -body. It is therefore impossible to apprehend it through any sensuous -representation, or to make an image of it: it apprehends itself only -through the pure intelligence. - -4. From the proposition _cogito ergo sum_, follows still farther the -universal rule of all certainty. I am certain that I am a thinking -being, what now is involved in the fact that I am certain of any thing? -Whence comes this certainty? From no other source than the knowledge -that this first proposition contains a clear conception of that which I -affirm. I know of a certainty that I am, and I know any thing else only -when I know it as certainly as I know that I am. Hence I may regard it -as a universal rule, that every thing is true which I know clearly and -determinately. - -5. This rule, however, is only a principle of certainty, not of -knowledge and of truth. We apply it therefore to our thoughts or ideas, -in order to discover what is objectively true. But our ideas are partly -innate, partly acquired, and partly self-originated. Among those of the -first class we find the idea of a God. The question arises, whence have -we this idea? Manifestly not from ourselves; this idea could only be -implanted within us by a being who has the fulness of all perfection in -himself, _i. e._ only by an actually existing God. If I ask now the -question, whence have I the faculty to conceive of a nature more perfect -than my own? the answer must ever come, that I have it only from him -whose nature is actually more perfect. All the attributes of God, the -more I contemplate them, show that their idea could not have originated -with myself alone. For though there might be in me the idea of substance -because I am a substance, yet I could not of myself have the idea of an -infinite substance, since I am finite; such an idea could only be given -me through a substance actually infinite. Moreover, we must not think -that the conception of the infinite is to be gained through abstraction -and negation, as we might gain darkness through the negation of light; -but I perceive, rather, that the infinite contains more reality than the -finite, and that, therefore, the conception of the infinite must be -correspondingly antecedent in me to that of the finite. Since then I -have a clear and determined idea of the infinite substance, and since -this has a greater objective reality than every other, so is there no -other which I have so little reason to doubt. But now since I am certain -that the idea of God has come to me from God himself, it only remains -for me to examine the way in which I have received it from God. I have -never derived it directly nor indirectly from the sense, for ideas -through the sense arise only by affecting the external organs of sense; -neither have I devised it, for I can neither add to it nor diminish it -in any respect,--it must, therefore, be innate as the idea of myself is -innate. Hence the first proof we can assign for the being of a God is -the fact that we find the idea of a God within us, and that we must have -a cause for its being. Again, the being of a God may be concluded from -my own imperfection, and especially from the knowledge of my -imperfection. For since I know that there is a perfection which is -wanting in me, it follows that there must exist a being who is more -perfect than I, on whom I depend and from whom I receive all I -possess.--But the best and most evident proof for the being of a God is, -in fine, that which is gained from the conception of a God. The mind -among all its different ideas singles out the chiefest of all, that of -the most perfect being, and perceives that this has not only the -possibility of existence, _i. e._ accidental existence like all other -ideas, but that it possesses necessary existence in itself. And as the -mind knows that in every triangle its three angles are equal to two -right angles, because this is involved in the very idea of a triangle, -so does the mind necessarily infer that necessary existence belongs to -the conception of the most perfect being, and that, therefore, the most -perfect being actually exists. No other idea which the mind finds within -itself contains necessary existence, but from the idea of the highest -being existence cannot be separated without contradiction. It is only -our prejudices which keep us from seeing this. Since we are accustomed -in every thing to separate its conception from its existence, and since -we often make ideas arbitrarily, it readily happens, that when we -contemplate the highest being we are in doubt whether its idea may not -be one also arbitrarily devised, or at least one in whose conception -existence does not lie.--This proof is essentially different from that of -Thomas (Anselm of Canterbury). His argument was as follows: "If we -understand what is indicated by the word GOD, it is all that can be -conceived of greatness; but now there is actually and in thought more -belonging to him than the word represents, and therefore God exists not -only in word (or representation), but in fact." Here the defect in the -syllogism is manifest, for from the premise it could only be concluded -that God must therefore be _represented_ as existing in fact, while his -actual existence would not follow. My proof on the other hand is -this,--we may predicate of a thing what we clearly see belongs to its -true and changeless nature, or to its essence, or to its form. But now -after we had examined what God is, we found existence to belong to his -true and changeless nature, and therefore may we properly predicate -existence of God. Necessary existence is contained in the idea of the -most perfect being, not by a fiction of our understanding but because -existence belongs to his eternal and changeless nature. - -6. The result just found--the existence of God--is of the highest -consequence. Before attaining this we were obliged to doubt every thing, -and give up even every certainty, for we did not know but that it -belonged to the nature of the human mind to err, but that God had -created us for error. But so soon as we look at the necessary attributes -of God in the innate idea of him, so soon as we know that he is true, it -would be a contradiction to suppose that he would deceive us, or that he -could have made us to err; for though an ability to deceive might prove -his skill, a willingness to deceive would only demonstrate his frailty. -Our reason, therefore, can never apprehend an object which would not be -true so far as the reason apprehended it, _i. e._ so far as it is -clearly known. For God might justly be styled a deceiver if he had given -us a reason so perverted as to hold the false for the true. And thus -every absolute doubt with which we began is dispelled. From the being of -God we derive every certainty. For every sure knowledge it is only -necessary that we have clearly known a thing, and are also certain of -the existence of a God, who would not deceive. - -7. From the true idea of God follow the principles of a philosophy of -nature or the doctrine of the two substances. Substance is that which so -exists that it needs nothing else for its existence. In this (highest) -sense God is the only substance. God, as the infinite substance, has his -ground in himself, is the cause of himself. The two created substances, -on the other hand, the thinking and the corporeal substance, mind and -matter, are substances only in a broader sense of the word; they may be -apprehended under the common conception that they are things which need -only the co-operation of God for their existence. Each of these two -substances has an attribute which constitutes its nature and its -essence, and to which all its other determinations may be referred. The -attribute and essence of matter is extension, that of mind, thought. For -every thing else which can be predicated of body presupposes extension, -and is only a mode of extension, as every thing we can find in mind is -only a modification of thought. A substance to which thought immediately -belongs is called mind, and a substance, whose immediate substratum is -extension, is called body. Since thought and extension are distinct from -each other, and since mind cannot only be known without the attributes -of the body, but is in itself the negation of those attributes, we may -say that the essence of these substances is in their reciprocal -negation. Mind and body are wholly distinct, and have nothing in common. - -8. We pass by the physics of Descartes, which has only a subordinate -philosophical interest, and notice next his views of anthropology. From -this dualistic relation between mind and matter, there follows a -dualistic relation between soul and body. If matter is essentially -extension, and mind essentially thought, and if the two have nothing in -common, then the union of soul and body can be conceived only as a -mechanical one. The body is to be regarded as an artistic automaton, -which God has made, as a statue or machine formed by God from the earth. -Within this body the soul dwells, closely but not internally connected -with it. The union of the two is only a powerful bringing of the two -together, since each is not only an independent factor, but is -essentially distinct from and even opposed to the other. The body by -itself is a machine fully prepared, in which nothing is changed by the -entrance of the thinking soul, except that through it certain motions -are secured: the wheel-work of the machine remains as it was. It is only -thought which distinguishes this machine from every other; hence, -therefore, brutes which are not self-conscious nor thinking, must be -ranked with all other machines. From this standpoint arose especially -the question concerning the seat of the soul. If body and soul are -independent substances, each essentially opposed to the other, they -cannot interpenetrate each other, but can touch only at one point when -they are powerfully brought together. This point where the soul has its -seat, is, according to Descartes, not the whole brain but the pineal -gland, a little kernel in the middle of the brain. The proof for this -claim, that the pineal gland is the only place where the soul -immediately exhibits its energy, is found in the circumstance that all -other parts of the brain are twofold, which should not be in an organ -where the soul has its seat, else objects would appear double. There is, -therefore, no other place in the body where impressions can be so well -united as in this gland. The pineal gland is, therefore, the chief seat -of the soul, and the place where all our thoughts are formed. - -We have thus developed the fundamental thoughts of the Cartesian system, -and will now recapitulate in a few words the features characteristic of -its standpoint and historic position. Descartes was the founder of a new -epoch in philosophy, _first_, from his postulate of universal freedom -from all preconceptions. His protesting against every thing which is not -posited by the thought, against taking any thing for granted in respect -of the truth, has remained from that time onward the fundamental -principle of the new age. _Secondly._ Descartes has brought out the -principle of self-consciousness (the mind or the thinking substance is -regarded by him as an individual self, a particular Ego)--a new -principle, unknown in this view to the ancients. _Thirdly._ Descartes -has shown the opposition between being and thought, existence and -consciousness, and the mediation of this opposition, which has been the -problem of the whole modern philosophy, he first affirmed as the true -philosophical problem. But with these ideas, which make an epoch in the -history of philosophy, there are at the same time connected the defects -of the Cartesian philosophizing. _First._ Descartes gained the content -of his system, namely his three substances, empirically. True, the -system which begins with a protestation against all existence would seem -to take nothing for granted, but to derive every thing from the -thinking. But in fact this protesting is not thoroughly carried out. -That which seems to be cast aside is afterwards, when the principle of -certainty is gained, taken up again unchanged. And so it happens that -Descartes finds at hand not only the idea of God, but his two substances -as something _immediately given_. True, in order to reach them, he -abstracts every thing which lies immediately before him, but in the end -the two substances are seen as that which remains when all else is -abstracted. They are received _empirically_. The _second_ defect is, -that Descartes separates so wholly from each other the two sides of the -opposition between thought and being. He posits both as "substances," -_i. e._ as powers, which reciprocally exclude and negate each other. The -essence of matter according to him consists _only_ in extension, _i. e._ -in the pure being _extra se_ (_Aussersichsein_), and that of mind _only_ -in thought, _i. e._ in the pure being _in se_ (_Insichsein_.) The two -stand over against each other as centrifugal and centripetal. But with -this apprehension of mind and matter, an inner mediation of the two is -an impossibility; there must be a powerful act of creation, there must -be the divine assistance in order that the two sides may ever come -together, and be united as they are in man. Nevertheless Descartes -demands and attempts such a mediation of the two sides. But the -impossibility of truly overcoming the dualism of his standpoint is the -_third_, and the chief defect of his system. In the proposition "I -think, therefore I am," or "I am thinking," the two sides, being and -thought, are indeed connected together, but only that they may become -fixed independently in respect of each other. If the question is asked, -how does the Ego stand related to the extended? the answer can only be: -by thinking, _i. e._ negatively, by excluding it. The idea of God, -therefore, is all that remains for the mediation of these two sides. The -two substances are created by God, and through the divine will may be -bound together; through the idea of God, the Ego attains the certainty -that the extended exists. God is therefore in a certain degree a _Deus -ex machina_, necessary in order to mediate the conflict of the Ego with -the extended. It is obvious how external such a mediation is. - -This defect of the Cartesian system operated as an impelling motive to -those which succeeded. - - - - -SECTION XXV. - -GEULINCX AND MALEBRANCHE. - - -1. Mind and matter, consciousness and existence, Descartes had fixed in -the farthest separation from each other. Both, with him, are substances, -independent powers, reciprocally excluding oppositions. Mind (_i. e._ in -his view the simple self, the Ego) he regarded as essentially the -abstraction from the sensuous, the distinguishing itself from matter and -the separating of matter from itself; matter was essentially the -complete opposition to thought. If the relation of these two powers be -as has been given, then the question arises, how can there ever be a -filiation (_Rapport_) between them? How, on the one hand, can the -affections of the body work upon the soul, and on the other hand, how -can the volition of the soul direct the body, if the two are absolutely -distinct and opposed to each other? At this point, _Arnold Geulincx_ (a -disciple of Descartes, born at Antwerp 1625, and died as professor of -philosophy at Leyden 1669) took up the Cartesian system, and endeavored -to give it a greater logical perfection. According to Geulincx neither -the soul works immediately upon the body, nor the body immediately upon -the soul. Certainly not the former: for though _I_ can determine and -move my body in many respects arbitrarily, yet _I_ am not the cause of -this movement; for I know not how it happens, I know not in what manner -motion is communicated from my brain to the different parts of my body, -and it is impossible that I should do that in respect of which I cannot -see how it is done. But if I cannot produce motion in my body, much less -can I do this outside of my body. I am therefore simply a contemplator -of the world; the only act which is peculiarly mine is contemplation. -But even this contemplation arises in a singular manner. For if we ask -how we obtain our observations of the external world, we find it -impossible that the external world should directly give them to us. For -however much we may say that, _e. g._ in the act of seeing, the external -objects produce an image in my eye or an impression in my brain as in -wax, yet this impression or picture is after all only something -corporeal or material, and cannot therefore come into my mind, which is -absolutely distinct from every thing material. There remains, therefore, -only that we seek the mediation of the two sides in God. It is God alone -who can unite the outer with the inner, and the inner with the outer; -who can make the outer phenomena to become inner representations or -notions of the mind; who can thus bring the world within the mind's -observation, and the inner determinations of the will outward into deed. -Hence every working, every act which unites the outer and inner, which -brings the mind and the world into connection, is neither a working of -the mind nor of the world, but only an immediate working of God. The -movement of my limbs does not follow from my will, but only because it -is the will of God that these movements should follow when I will. My -will is an _occasion_ by which God moves my body--an affection of my body -is an _occasion_ by which God brings within me a representation of the -external world: the one is only the occasional cause of the other (hence -the name occasionalism). My will, however, does not move God to move my -limbs, but he who has imparted motion to matter and given it its laws, -created also my will, and has so connected together the most diverse -things, the movement of matter and the arbitrium of my will, that when -my will puts forth a volition, such a motion follows as it wills, and -the motion follows the volition without any interaction or physical -influence exerted by the one upon the other. But just as it is with two -clocks which go exactly alike, the one striking precisely as the other, -their harmony is not the result of any reciprocal interacting, but -follows because both have been fashioned and directed alike,--so is it -with the movements of the body and the will, they harmonize only through -that exalted artist who has in this ineffable way connected them -together. We see from this that Geulincx has carried to its limit the -dualistic basis of Descartes. While Descartes called the union of mind -and matter a conjunction through power, Geulincx named it a miracle. -There is consequently in this view no immanent, but only a transcendent -mediation possible. - -2. Closely connected with this view of Geulincx, and at the same time a -real consequence and a wider development of the Cartesian -philosophizing, is the philosophic standpoint of _Nicolas Malebranche_. -He was born at Paris in 1638, chosen a member of the "_Congrégation de -l'oratoire_" in his twenty-second year, won over to philosophy through -the writings of Descartes, and died, after numerous feuds with -theological opposers, in 1715. - -Malebranche started with the Cartesian view of the relation between mind -and matter. Both are strictly distinct from each other, and in their -essence opposed. How now does the mind, (_i. e._ the Ego) gain a -knowledge of the external world and have ideas of corporeal things? For -it comes to know things only by means of ideas,--not through itself, not -immediately. Now the mind can neither gain these ideas from itself, nor -from the things themselves. Not from itself, for it is absolutely -opposed to the bodily world, and hence has no capacity to idealize, to -spiritualize material things, though they must become spiritualized -before they can be introduced to the mind; in a word, the mind, which in -relation to the material world is only an opposition, has no power to -destroy this opposition. Just as little has the mind derived these ideas -from things: for matter is not visible through itself, but rather as -antithetic to mind is it that which is absolutely unintelligible, and -which cannot be idealized, that which is absolutely without light and -clearness.--It only remains, therefore, that the mind beholds things in a -third that stands above the opposition of the two, viz., God. God, as -the absolute substance, is the absolute ideality, the infinite power to -spiritualize all things. Material things have no real opposition for -God, to him they are no impenetrable darkness, but an ideal existence; -all things are in him spiritually and ideally; the whole world, as -intellectual or ideal, is God. God is, therefore, the higher mean -between the Ego and the external world. In him we behold ideas, we being -so strictly united with him, that he may properly be called the place of -minds. - -The philosophy of Malebranche, whose simple thought is this, that we -know and see all things in God,--shows itself, like the occasionalism of -Geulincx, to be a peculiar attempt to stand upon the basis of the -Cartesian philosophy, and with its fundamental thought to overcome its -dualism. - -3. Two defects or inner contradictions have manifested themselves in the -philosophy of Descartes. He had considered mind and matter as -substances, each one of which excluded the other from itself, and had -sought a mediation of the two. But with such conditions no mediation -other than an external one is possible. If thought and existence are -each one substance, then can they only negate and exclude each other. -Unnatural theories, like those which have been mentioned, are the -inevitable result of this. The simplest way out of the difficulty is to -give up the principle first assumed, to strip off their independence -from the two opposites, and instead of regarding them as substances, -view them as accidents of one substance. This way of escape is moreover -indicated by a particular circumstance. According to Descartes, God is -the infinite substance, the peculiar substance in the proper sense of -the word. Mind and matter are indeed substances, but only in relation to -each other; in relation to God they are dependent, and not substances. -This is, strictly taken, a contradiction. The true consequence were -rather to say that neither the Ego (_i. e._ the individual thinking) nor -the material things are independent, but that this can be predicated -only of the one substance, God; this substance alone has a real being, -and all the being which belongs to individual essences these latter -possess not as a substantial being, but only as accidents of the one -only true and real substance. Malebranche approached this consequence. -With him the bodily world is ideally at least resolved and made to sink -in God, in whom are the eternal archetypes of all things. But _Spinoza_ -has most decidedly and logically adopted this consequence, and affirmed -the accidence of all individual being and the exclusive substantiality -of God alone. His system is the perfection and the truth of the -Cartesian. - - - - -SECTION XXVI. - -SPINOZA. - - -Baruch or Benedict Spinoza was born at Amsterdam, Nov. 24, 1632. His -parents were Jews of Portuguese descent, and being merchants of -opulence, they gave him a finished education. He studied with great -diligence the Bible and the Talmud, but soon exchanged the pursuit of -theology for the study of physics and the works of Descartes. He early -became dissatisfied with Judaism, and presently came to an open rupture -with it, though without going over formally to Christianity. In order to -escape the persecutions of the Jews, who had excommunicated him, and who -even went so far as to make an attempt upon his life, he left Amsterdam -and betook himself to Rhynsberg, near Leyden. He finally settled down at -the Hague, where he spent his life in the greatest seclusion, devoted -wholly to scientific pursuits. He supported himself by grinding optic -glasses, which his friends sold for him. The Elector Palatine, Charles -Louis, offered him a Professorship of Philosophy at Heidelberg, with the -full permission to teach as he chose, but Spinoza declined the post. -Naturally of a weak constitution, which consumption had for many years -been undermining, Spinoza died at the age of 44, on the 21st of -February, 1677. In his life there was mirrored the unclouded clearness -and exalted serenity of the perfected sage. Abstemious in his habits, -satisfied with little, the master of his passions, never intemperately -sad nor joyous, gentle and benevolent, with a character of singular -excellence and purity, he faithfully illustrated in his life, the -doctrines of his philosophy. His chief work, the _Ethica_, appeared the -year of his death. His design was probably to have published it during -his life, but the odious report that he was an atheist restrained him. -The friend he most trusted, Louis Mayer, a physician, attended to its -publication after the author's death and according to his will. - -The system of Spinoza rests upon three fundamental conceptions, from -which all the rest may be derived with mathematical necessity. These -conceptions are that of substance, of attribute, and of mode. - -1. Spinoza starts from the Cartesian conception of substance: substance -is that which needs nothing other for its existence. But with such a -conception there can exist only one single substance. A number of -substances like that of Descartes is necessarily a contradiction. There -can be nothing which has a substantial being besides the one substance -of all things. This one substance Spinoza calls God. Of course, with -such a view, the Christian idea of God, the notion of a spiritual and -personal being, must be laid aside. Spinoza expressly declares, that his -notion of God is entirely different from that of the Christian; he -denied that understanding and will could be predicated of God; he -ridiculed those who supposed that God worked for an end, and even -scorned the view which regarded the world as a product of the Divine -willing or thinking. God is, with him, only substance, and nothing more. -The propositions that there is only one God, and that the substance of -all things is only one, are with him identical. - -What now peculiarly is this substance? What is positive being? This -question it is very difficult to answer directly from the standpoint of -Spinoza, partly because a definition, according to him, must contain -(_i. e._ must be genetically) the immediate cause of that which is to be -explained, but substance is uncreated and can have no cause besides -itself; but prominently because Spinoza held that every determination is -a negation, since it must indicate a want of existence, a relative -not-being. (_Omnis determinatio est negatio_ is an expression which, -though he uses it only occasionally, expresses the fundamental idea of -his whole system.) Hence, by setting up any positive determinations of -being, we only take away from substance its infinity and make it finite. -When we therefore affirm any thing concerning it, we can only speak -negatively, _e. g._ that it has no foreign cause, that it has no -plurality, that it cannot be divided, etc. It is even reluctantly that -Spinoza declares concerning it that it is one, for this predicate might -readily be taken numerically, as implying that others, the many, stood -over against it. Thus there can remain only such positive affirmations -respecting it as express its absolute reference to itself. In this sense -Spinoza says that substance is the cause of itself, _i. e._ its being -concludes existence in itself. When Spinoza calls it eternal, it is only -another expression for the same thought; for by eternity he understands -existence itself, so far as it is conceived to follow from the -definition of the thing, in a sense similar to that in which -geometricians speak of the eternal properties of figures. Still farther -he calls substance infinite, because the conception of infinity -expressed to him the conception of true being, the absolute affirmation -of existence. So also the expression, God is free, affirms nothing more -than those already mentioned, viz., negatively, that every foreign -restraint is excluded from him, and positively, that God is in harmony -with himself, that his being corresponds to the laws of his essence. - -The comprehensive statement for the above is, that there is only one -infinite substance that excludes from itself all determination and -negation, and is named God, or nature. - -2. Besides the infinite substance or God, Descartes had assumed two -other substances created by God, viz., mind (thought), and matter -(extension). These two Spinoza considers in the light of attributes, -though, like Descartes, he receives them empirically. What, now, is the -relation of these attributes to the infinite substance? This is the -severe question, the tendon-Achilles of Spinoza's system. They cannot be -essential forms in which the substance may manifest itself or appear, -for this would make them determine the essence of the substance, which -would contradict its conception as already given. Substance, as such, is -neither understanding nor extension. If, then, the two attributes do not -flow out of the essence of the substance, and do not constitute the -substance, there remains only one other supposition, viz., that they are -externally attached to the substance; and this is, in fact, Spinoza's -view. Attribute, according to him, is that which the understanding -perceives in the substance as constituting its essence. But -understanding, as Spinoza expressly says, does not belong to substance -as such. Attributes, therefore, are those determinations which express -the essence of the substance only for the perceiving understanding; -since they express the essence of the substance in a determinate way, -while substance itself has no determinate way of being, they can only -fall outside the substance, viz., in the reflective understanding. To -the substance itself it is indifferent whether the understanding -contemplate it under these two attributes or not; the substance in -itself has an infinity of attributes, _i. e._ every possible attribute -which is not a limitation, may be predicated of it; it is only the human -understanding which attaches these two attributes to the substance, and -it affixes no more than these, because, among all the conceptions it can -form, these alone are actually positive, or express a reality. God, or -the substance, is therefore thinking, in so far as the understanding -contemplates him under the attribute of thought, and is extended in so -far as the understanding contemplates him under the attribute of -extension. It is, says Spinoza--using a figure to express this relation -of substance to attribute--it is, like a surface reflecting the light, -which (objectively taken) may be hot, though, in reference to the man -looking upon it, it is white. More accurately substance is a surface, -standing opposite to a beholder who can see only through yellow and blue -glasses; to whom, therefore, the surface must appear either yellow or -blue, though it is neither the one nor the other. - -In relation to substance, therefore, the attributes must be apprehended -as entirely independent: they must be conceived through themselves: -their conception is not dependent upon that of substance. This is -necessarily true; for since the substance can have no determinateness, -then the attribute which is its determinate being, cannot be explained -from the substance, but only through itself. Only by apprehending the -attribute independently can the unity of the substance be maintained. - -In relation to each other, the attributes are to be taken as opposites -strictly and determinately diverse. Between the bodily and the ideal -world there is no reciprocal influence nor interaction: a body can only -spring from a body, and an idea can only have an idea for its source. -Hence, therefore, neither the mind can work upon the body nor the body -upon the mind. Nevertheless there exists between the two worlds a -perfect harmony and an entire parallelism. It is one and the same -substance which is conceived under each of the two attributes, and under -which one of the two we may contemplate it is indifferent to the -substance itself, for each mode of contemplation is equally correct. -From this follows at once the proposition of Spinoza, that the -connection of ideas and of things is the same. Hence the solution to the -problem of the relation of body and soul, so difficult to find from the -Cartesian standpoint, is readily seen from that of Spinoza. Body and -soul are one and the same thing, only viewed under different attributes. -Mind is nothing but the idea of body, _i. e._ it is the same thing as -body, only that it is viewed under the attribute of thought. In the same -way is explained the apparent but not real influence of the body upon -the mind, and the mind upon the body. That which, in one point of view -is bodily motion, in another is an act of thought. In short, the most -perfect parallelism reigns between the world of bodily things and that -of ideas. - -3. Individual beings, which considered under the attribute of thought -are ideas, and under the attribute of extension are bodies, Spinoza -comprehends under the conception of accidence, or, as he calls it, mode. -By modes we are therefore to understand the changing forms of substance. -The modes stand related to the substance as the rippling waves of the -sea to the water of the sea, as forms constantly disappearing and never -having a real being. In fact this example goes too far, for the waves of -the sea are at least a part of the water of the sea, while the modes, -instead of being parts of the substance, are essentially nothing and -without being. The finite has no existence as finite; only the infinite -substance has actual existence. Substance, therefore, could not be -regarded more falsely than if it should be viewed as made up of modes. -That would be, Spinoza remarks, as if one should say that the line is -made up out of points. It is just as false to affirm that Spinoza -identifies God and the world. He identifies them so little that he would -rather say that the world, as world, _i. e._ as an aggregate of -individuals, does not at all exist; we might rather say with Hegel that -he denies the world (his system is an acosmism), than with Bayle, that -he makes every thing God, or that he ascribes divinity to every thing. - -Whence do finite things or individuals arise, if they can have no -existence by the side of substance? They are only the product of our -deceptive apprehension. There are two chief ways of knowledge--the -intuitive, through the reason, and the imaginative. To the latter belong -the knowledge of experience, and all that is abstract, superficial, and -confused; to the former, the collection of all fitting (adequate) ideas. -It is only the fault of the imagination that we should look upon the -world as a manifoldness of individuals; the manifoldness is only a form -of representation. The imagination isolates and individualizes what the -reason sees together in its unity. Hence it is only as considered -through the imagination (experience or opinion) that modes are _things_; -the reason looks upon them as necessary, or, what is the same thing, as -eternal. - -Such are the fundamental thoughts and features of Spinoza's system. His -_practical philosophy_ yet remains to be characterized and in a few -words. Its chief propositions follow necessarily from the metaphysical -grounds already cited. First, it follows from these, that what is called -free will cannot be admitted. For since man is only a mode, he, like -every other mode, stands in an endless series of conditioning causes, -and no free will can therefore be predicated of him. The will must thus, -like the body (and the resolution of the will is only a modification of -the body), be determined by something other than itself. Men regard -themselves as free only because they are conscious of their actions and -not of the determining causes. Just so the notions which one commonly -connects with the words good and evil, rest on an error as follows at -once from the conception of the absolute divine causality. Good and evil -are not something actually in the things themselves, but only express -relative conceptions which we have formed from a comparison of things -with one another. Thus, by observing certain things we form a certain -universal conception, which we thereupon treat as though it were the -rule for the being and acting of all individuals, and if any individual -varies from this conception we fancy that it does not correspond to its -nature, and is incomplete. Evil or sin is therefore only something -relative, for nothing happens against God's will. It is only a simple -negation or deprivation, which only seems to be a reality in our -representation. With God there is no idea of the evil. What is therefore -good and what evil? That is good which is useful to us, and that evil -which hinders us from partaking of a good. That, moreover, is useful to -us which brings us to a greater reality, which preserves and exalts our -being. But our true being is knowledge, and hence that only is useful to -us which aids us in knowing; the highest good is the knowledge of God; -the highest virtue of the mind is to know and love God. From the -knowledge of God we gain the highest gladness and joy of the mind, the -highest blessedness. Blessedness, hence, is not the reward of virtue, -but virtue itself. - -The grand feature of Spinoza's philosophy is that it buries every thing -individual and particular, as a finite, in the abyss of the divine -substance. With its view unalterably fixed upon the eternal one, it -loses sight of every thing which seems actual in the ordinary notions of -men. But its defect consists in its inability to transform this negative -abyss of substance into the positive ground of all-being and becoming. -The substance of Spinoza, has been justly compared to the lair of a -lion, which many footsteps enter, but from which none emerge. The -existence of the phenomenal world, though it be only the apparent and -deceptive reality of the finite, Spinoza does not explain. With his -abstract conception of substance he cannot explain it. And yet the means -to help him out of the difficulty lay near at hand. He failed to apply -universally his fundamental principle that all determination is -negation; he applied it only to the finite, but the abstract infinite, -in so far as it stands over against the finite, is also a determinate; -this infinite must be denied by its negation, which is the case when a -finite world is posited. Jacob Boehme rightly apprehended this, when he -affirmed, that without a self-duplication, without an ingress into the -limited, the finite, the original ground of things is an empty nothing -(_cf._ § XXIII. 8). So the original ground of Spinoza is a nothing, a -purely indeterminate, because with him substance was only a principle of -unity and not also a principle of distinction, because its attributes, -instead of being an expression of an actual difference and a positive -distinction to itself, are rather wholly indifferent to itself. The -system of Spinoza is the most abstract Monotheism that can be thought. -It is not accidental that its author, a Jew, should have brought out -again this view of the world, this view of absolute identity, for it is -in a certain degree with him only a consequence of his national -religion--an echo of the Orient. - - - - -SECTION XXVII. - -IDEALISM AND REALISM. - - -We have now reached a point of divergence in the development of -philosophy. Descartes had affirmed and attempted to mediate the -opposition, between thought and being, mind and matter. This mediation, -however, was hardly successful, for the two sides of the opposition he -had fixed in their widest separation, when he posited them as two -substances or powers, which reciprocally negated each other. The -followers of Descartes sought a more satisfactory mediation, but the -theories to which they saw themselves driven, only indicated the more -clearly that the whole premise from which they started must be given up. -At length Spinoza abandoned the false notion, and took away its -substantiality from each of the two opposed principles. Mind and matter, -thought and extension, are now one in the infinite substance. Yet they -are not one _in themselves_, which would be the only true unity of the -two. That they are one in the substance is of little avail, since they -are indifferent to the substance, and are not immanent distinctions in -it. Thus even with Spinoza the two remain strictly separate. The ground -of this isolation we find in the fact that Spinoza himself did not -sufficiently renounce the Cartesian notion, and thus could not escape -the Cartesian dualism. With him, as with Descartes, thought is _only_ -thought, and extension _only_ extension, and in such an apprehension of -the two, the one necessarily excludes the other. If we would find an -inner mediation for the two, we must cease to abstract every thing -essential from each. The opposite sides must be mediated even in their -strictest opposition. To do this, two ways alone were possible. A -position could be taken either on the material or on the ideal side, and -the attempt made to explain the ideal under the material, or the -material under the ideal, comprehending one through the other. Both -these attempts were in fact made, and at about the same time. The two -parallel courses of a one-sided _idealism_, and a one-sided _realism_ -(Empiricism, Sensualism, Materialism), now begin their development. - - - - -SECTION XXVIII. - -LOCKE. - - -The founder of the realistic course and the father of modern Empiricism -and Materialism, is _John Locke_, an Englishman. _Thomas Hobbes_ -(1588-1679) was his predecessor and countryman, whose name we need here -only mention, as it has no importance except for the history of natural -rights. - -John Locke was born at Wrington, 1632. His student years he devoted to -philosophy and prominently to medicine, though his weak health prevented -him from practising as a physician. Few cares of business interrupted -his leisure, and he devoted his time mostly to literary pursuits. His -friendly relations with Lord Anthony Ashley, afterwards Earl of -Shaftesbury, exerted a weighty influence upon his course in life. At the -house of this distinguished statesman and author he always found the -most cordial reception, and an intercourse with the most important men -of England. In the year 1670 he sketched for a number of friends the -first plan of his famous _Essay on the Human Understanding_, though the -completed work did not appear till 1689. Locke died aged 72 in the year -1704. His writings are characterized by clearness and precision, -openness and determinateness. More acute than profound in his -philosophizing, he does not in this respect belie the characteristic of -his nation. The fundamental thoughts and results of his philosophy have -now become common property, especially among the English, though it -should not therefore be forgotten that he is the first who has -scientifically established them, and is, on this account, entitled to a -true place in the history of philosophy, even though his principle was -wanting in an inner capacity for development. - -Locke's Philosophy (_i. e._ his theory of knowledge, for his whole -philosophizing expends itself in investigating the faculty of knowing) -rests upon two thoughts, to which he never ceases to revert: first -(negatively), there are no innate ideas; second (positively), all our -knowledge arises from experience. - -Many, says Locke, suppose that there are innate ideas which the soul -receives coetaneous with its origin, and brings with it into the world. -In order to prove that these ideas are innate, it is said that they -universally exist, and are universally valid with all men. But admitting -that this were so, such a fact would prove nothing if this universal -harmony could be explained in any other way. But men mistake when they -claim such a fact. There is, in reality, no fundamental proposition, -theoretical or practical, which would be universally admitted. Certainly -there is no such practical principle, for the example of different -people as well as of different ages shows that there is no moral rule -universally admitted as valid. Neither is there a theoretical one, for -even those propositions which might lay the strongest claim to be -universally valid, _e. g._ the proposition,--"what is, is," or--"it is -impossible that one and the same thing should be and not be at the same -time,"--receive by no means a universal assent. Children and idiots have -no notion of these principles, and even uncultivated men know nothing of -these abstract propositions. They cannot therefore have been imprinted -on all men by nature. If ideas were innate, then they must be known by -all from earliest childhood. For "to be in the understanding," and "to -become known," is one and the same thing. The assertion therefore that -these ideas are imprinted on the understanding while it does not know -it, is hence a manifest contradiction. Just as little is gained by the -subterfuge, that these principles come into the consciousness _so soon_ -as men use their reason. This affirmation is directly false, for these -maxims which are called universal come into the consciousness much later -than a great deal of other knowledge, and children, _e. g._ give many -proofs of their use of reason before they know that it is impossible -that a thing should be and at the same time not be. It is only correct -to say that no one becomes conscious of these propositions without -reasoning,--but to say that they are all known with the first reasoning -is false. Moreover, that which is first known is not universal -propositions, but relates to individual impressions. The child knows -that sweet is not bitter long before he understands the logical -proposition of contradiction. He who carefully bethinks himself, will -hesitate before he affirms that particular dicta as "sweet is not -bitter," are derived from universal ones. If the universal propositions -were innate, then must they be the first in the consciousness of the -child; for that which nature has stamped upon the human soul must come -into consciousness antecedently to any thing which she has not written -there. Consequently, if there are no innate ideas, either theoretical or -practical, there can be just as truly no innate art nor science. The -understanding (or the soul) is essentially a _tabula rasa_,--a blank and -void space, a white paper on which nothing is written. - -How now does the understanding become possessed of ideas? Only through -experience, upon which all knowledge rests, and on which as its -principle all knowledge depends. Experience itself is twofold; either it -arises through the perception of external objects by means of the sense, -in which case we call it sensation; or it is a perception of the -activities of our own understanding, in which case it is named the inner -sense, or, better, reflection. Sensation and reflection give to the -understanding all its ideas; they are the windows through which alone -the light of ideas falls upon the naturally dark space of the mind; -external objects furnish us with the ideas of sensible qualities, and -the inner object, which is the understanding itself, offers us the ideas -of its own activities. To show the derivation and to give an explanation -of all the ideas derived from both is the problem of the Lockian -philosophy. For this end Locke divides ideas (representations or -notions) into _simple_ and _compound_. _Simple ideas_, he names those -which are impressed from without upon the understanding while it remains -wholly passive, just as the images of certain objects are represented in -a mirror. These simple ideas are _partly_ such as come to the -understanding through an individual sense, _e. g._ the ideas of color, -which are furnished to the mind through the eye, or those of sound, -which come to it through the ear, or those of solidity or -impenetrability, which we receive through the touch; _partly_ such as a -number of senses have combined to give us, as those of space and of -motion, of which we become conscious by means of the sense both of touch -and of sight; _partly_ such as we receive through reflection, as the -idea of thought and of will; and _partly_, in fine, such as arise from -both sensation and reflection combined, _e. g._ power, unity, &c. These -simple ideas form the material, as it were the letters of all our -knowledge. But now as language arises from a manifold combination of -letters, syllables and words, so the understanding forms complex ideas -by the manifold combination of simple ideas with each other. The complex -ideas may be referred to three classes, viz.: the ideas of mode, of -substance, and of relation. Under the ideas of mode, Locke considers the -modifications of space (as distance, measurement, immensity, surface, -figure, &c.), of time (as succession, duration, eternity), of thought -(perception, memory, abstraction, &c.), of number, power, &c. Special -attention is given by Locke to the conception of substance. He explains -the origin of this conception in this way, viz.: we find both in -sensation and reflection, that a certain number of simple ideas seem -often to be connected together. But as we cannot divest ourselves of the -impression that these simple ideas have not been produced through -themselves, we are accustomed to furnish them with a ground in some -existing substratum, which we indicate with the word substance. -Substance is something unknown, and is conceived of as possessing those -qualities which are necessary to furnish us with simple ideas. But from -the fact that substance is a product of our subjective thinking, it does -not follow that it has no existence outside of ourselves. On the -contrary, this is distinguished from all other complex ideas in the fact -that this is an idea which has its archetype distinct from ourselves, -and possesses objective reality, while other complex ideas are formed by -the mind at pleasure, and have no reality corresponding to them external -to the mind. We do not know what is the archetype of substance, and of -the substance itself we are acquainted only with its attributes. From -considering the conception of substance, Locke next passes over to the -idea of _relation_. A relation arises when the understanding has -connected two things with each other, in such a way, that in considering -them it passes over from the one to the other. Every thing is capable of -being brought by the understanding into relation, or what is the same -thing, to be transformed into something relative. It is consequently -impossible to enumerate the sum of every possible relation. Hence Locke -treats only of some of the more weighty conceptions of relation, among -others, that of identity and difference, but especially that of cause -and effect. The idea of cause and effect arises when our understanding -perceives that any thing whatsoever, be it substance or quality, begins -to exist through the activity of another. So much concerning ideas. The -combination of ideas among themselves gives the conception of knowing. -Hence knowledge stands in the same relation to the simple and complex -ideas as a proposition does to the letters, syllables and words which -compose it. From this it follows that our knowledge does not pass beyond -the compass of our ideas, and hence that it is bounded by experience. - -These are the prominent thoughts in the Lockian philosophy. Its -empiricism is clear as day. The mind, according to it, is in itself -bare, and only a mirror of the outer world,--a dark space which passively -receives the images of external objects; its whole content is made by -the impressions furnished it by material things. _Nihil est in -intellectu, quod non fuerit in sensu_--is the watchword of this -standpoint. While Locke, by this proposition, expresses the undoubted -preponderance of the material over the intellectual, he does so still -more decisively when he declares that it is possible and even probable -that the mind is a material essence. He does not admit the reverse -possibility, that material things may be classed under the intellectual -as a special kind. Hence with him mind is the secondary to matter, and -hence he is seen to take the characteristic standpoint of realism (_cf._ -§ XXVII). It is true that Locke was not always logically consistent, and -in many points did not thoroughly carry out his empiricism: but we can -clearly see that the road which will be taken in the farther development -of this direction, will result in a thorough denial of the ideal factor. - -The empiricism of Locke, wholly national as it is, soon became the -ruling philosophy in England. Standing on its basis we find _Isaac -Newton_, the great mathematician (1642-1727), _Samuel Clarke_, a -disciple of Newton, whose chief attention was given to moral philosophy -(1675-1729), the English moralists of this period, _William Wollaston_ -(1659-1724), the Earl of _Shaftesbury_ (1671-1713), _Francis Hutcheson_ -(1694-1746), and even some opponents of Locke, as _Peter Brown_, who -died 1735. - - - - -SECTION XXIX. - -HUME. - - -As already remarked, Locke had not been wholly consistent with the -standpoint of empiricism. Though conceding to material objects a decided -superiority above the thinking subject, there was yet one point, viz., -the recognition of substance, where he claimed for the thinking a power -above the objective world. Among all the complex ideas which are formed -by the subjective thinking, the idea of substance is, according to -Locke, the only one which has objective reality; all the rest being -purely subjective, with nothing actually corresponding to them in the -objective world. But in the very fact that the subjective thinking -places the conception of substance, which it has formed, in the -objective world, it affirms an objective relation of things, an -objective connection of them among each other, and an existing -rationality. The reason of the subject in this respect stands in a -certain degree above the objective world, for the relation of substance -is not derived immediately from the world of sense, and is no product of -sensation nor of perception through the sense. On a pure empirical -standpoint--and such was Locke's--it was therefore illogical to allow the -conception of substance to remain possessed of objective being. If the -understanding is essentially a bare and empty space, a white unwritten -paper, if its whole content of objective knowledge consists in the -impressions made upon it by material things, then must the conception of -substance also be explained as a mere subjective notion, a union of -ideas joined together at the mind's pleasure, and the subject itself, -thus fully deprived of every thing to which it could lay claim, must -become wholly subordinated to the material world. This stride to a -logical empiricism Hume has made in his criticism on the conception of -causality. - -David Hume was born at Edinburgh 1711. Devoted in youth to the study of -law, then for some time a merchant, he afterwards gave his attention -exclusively to philosophy and history. His first literary attempt was -hardly noticed. A more favorable reception was, however, given to his -"_Essays_,"--of which he published different collections from 1742 to -1757, making in all five volumes. In these Hume has treated -philosophical themes as a thoughtful and cultivated man of the world, -but without any strict systematic connection. In 1752 he was elected to -the care of a public library in Edinburgh, and began in this same year -his famous history of England. Afterwards he became secretary of -legation at Paris, where he became acquainted with Rousseau. In 1767 he -became under secretary of state, an office, however, which he filled for -only a brief period. His last years were spent in Edinburgh, in a quiet -and contented seclusion. He died 1776. - -The centre of Hume's philosophizing is his criticism of the conception -of cause. Locke had already expressed the thought that we attain the -conception of substance only by the _habit_ of always seeing certain -modes together. Hume takes up this thought with earnestness. Whence do -we know, he asks, that two things stand to each other in the relation of -cause and effect? We do not know it apriori, for since the effect is -something other than the cause, while knowledge apriori embraces only -that which is identical, the effect cannot thus be discovered in the -cause; neither do we know it through experience, for experience reveals -to us only the succession in time of two facts. All our conclusions from -experience, therefore, rest simply upon habit. Because we are in the -habit of seeing that one thing is followed in time by another, do we -form the notion that the latter _must_ follow out of the former: we make -the relation of causality out of the relation of succession; but a -connection in time is naturally something other than a causal -connection. Hence, with the conception of causality, we transcend that -which is given in perception and form for ourselves, notions to which we -are properly not entitled.--That which belongs to causality belongs to -every necessary relation. We find within us conceptions, as those of -power and expression, and in general that of necessary connection; but -let us note how we attain these: not through sensation, for though -external objects seem to us to have coetaneousness of being, they show -as no necessary connection. Do they then come through reflection? True, -it seems as if we might get the idea of power by seeing that the organs -of our body move in consequence of the dictate of our mind. But since we -do not know the means through which the mind works, and since all the -organs of the body cannot be moved by the will, it follows, that we are -indeed pointed to experience in reference to this activity; but since -experience can show us only a frequent conjunction, but no real -connection, it follows also that we come to the conception of power as -of every necessary connection, only because we are _accustomed_ to a -transcending process in our notions. All conceptions which express a -relation of necessity, all knowledge presumptive of a real objective -connection of things, rests therefore ultimately only upon the -association of ideas. Having denied the conception of substance, Hume -was led also to deny that of the Ego or self. If the Ego or self really -exists, it must be a substance possessing inherent qualities. But since -our conception of substance is purely subjective, without objective -reality, it follows that there is no correspondent reality to our -conception of the self or the Ego. The self or the Ego is, in fact, -nothing other than a compound of many notions following rapidly upon -each other; and under this compound we lay a conceived substratum, which -we call soul, self, Ego (I). The self, or the Ego, rests wholly on an -illusion. Of course, with such premises, nothing can be said of the -immortality of the soul. If the soul is only the compound of our -notions, it necessarily ceases with the notions--that which is compounded -of the movements of the body dies with those movements. - -There needs no further proof, than simply to utter these chief thoughts -of Hume, to show that his scepticism is only a logical carrying out of -Locke's empiricism. Every determination of universality and necessity -must fall away, if we derive our knowledge only from perceptions through -the sense; these determinations cannot be comprised in sensation. - - - - -SECTION XXX. - -CONDILLAC. - - -The French took up the problem of carrying out the empiricism of Locke, -to its ultimate consequences in sensualism and materialism. Although -this empiricism had sprung up on English soil, and had soon become -universally prevalent there, it was reserved for France to push it to -the last extreme, and show that it overthrew all the foundations of -moral and religious life. This final consequence of empiricism did not -correspond to the English national character. But on the contrary, both -the empiricism of Locke, and the scepticism of Hume, found themselves -opposed in the latter half of the eighteenth century, by a reaction in -the Scotch philosophy (_Reid_ 1701-1799, _Beattie_, _Oswald_, _Dugald -Stewart_, 1753-1828). The attempt was here made to establish certain -principles of truth as innate and immanent in the subject, which should -avail both against the _tabula rasa_ of Locke, and the scepticism of -Hume. These principles were taken in a thoroughly English way, as those -of common sense, as facts of experience, as facts of the moral instinct -and sound human understanding; as something empirically given, and found -in the common consciousness by self-contemplation and reflection. But in -France, on the other hand, there was such a public and social condition -of things during the eighteenth century, that we can only regard the -systems of materialism and egoistic moralism which here appeared, as the -last practical consequences of the empirical standpoint,--to be the -natural result of the universal desolation. The expression of a lady -respecting the system of Helvetius is well known, that it uttered only -the secret of all the world. - -Most closely connected with the empiricism of Locke, is the sensualism -of the Abbé _Condillac_. Condillac was born at Grenoble, 1715. In his -first writings he adhered to Locke, but subsequently passed beyond him, -and sought to ground a philosophical standpoint of his own. He was -elected a member of the French Academy in 1768, and died in 1780. His -writings fill twenty-three volumes, and have their origin in a moral and -religious interest. - -Condillac, like Locke, started with the proposition that all our -knowledge comes from experience. While, however, Locke had indicated two -sources for this knowledge, sensation and reflection, the outer and the -inner sense, Condillac referred reflection to sensation, and reduced the -two sources to one. Reflection is, with him, only sensation; all -intellectual occurrences, even the combination of ideas and volition, -are to be regarded only as modified sensations. It is the chief problem -and content of Condillac's philosophizing to carry out this thought, and -derive the different functions of the soul out of the sensations of the -outer sense. He illustrates this thought by a statue, which has been -made with a perfect internal organization like a man, but which -possesses no ideas, and in which only gradually one sense after another -awakens and fills the soul with impressions. In such a view man stands -on the same footing as the brute, for all his knowledge and all his -incentives to action he receives from sensation. Condillac consequently -names men perfect animals, and brutes imperfect men. Still he revolts -from affirming the materiality of the soul, and denying the existence of -God. These ultimate consequences of sensualism were first drawn by -others after him, as would naturally enough follow. As sensualism -affirmed that truth or being could only be perceived through the sense, -so we have only to reverse this proposition, and have the thesis of -materialism, viz.: the sensible alone is, there is no other being but -material being. - - - - -SECTION XXXI. - -HELVETIUS. - - -_Helvetius_ has exhibited the moral consequences of the sensualistic -standpoint. While theoretical sensualism affirms that all our knowledge -is determined by sensation, practical sensualism adds to this the -analogous proposition that all our volition springs from the same -source, and is regulated by the sensuous desire. Helvetius adopted it as -the principle of morals to satisfy this sensuous desire. - -Helvetius was born at Paris in 1715. Gaining a position in his -twenty-third year as farmer-general, he found himself early in the -possession of a rich income, but after a few years he found this office -so vexatious that he abandoned it. The study of Locke decided his -philosophic direction. Helvetius wrote his famed work, _de l'Esprit_, -after he had given up his office and withdrawn himself in seclusion. It -appeared in 1758, and attracted a great attention at home and abroad, -though it drew upon him a violent persecution, especially from the -clergy. It was fortunate for him that the persecution satisfied itself -with suppressing his book. The repose in which he spent his later years -was interrupted only by two journeys which he made to Germany and -England. He died in 1771. His personal character was wholly estimable, -full of kindness and generosity. Especially in his place as -farmer-general he showed himself benevolent towards the poor, and -resolute against the encroachments of his subalterns. The style of his -writings is easy and elegant. - -Self-love or interest, says Helvetius, is the lever of all our mental -activities. Even that activity which is purely intellectual, our -instinct towards knowledge, our forming of ideas, rests upon this. Since -now all self-love refers essentially only to bodily pleasure, it follows -that every mental occurrence within us has its peculiar source only in -the striving after this pleasure; but in saying this, we have only -affirmed where the principle of all morality is to be sought. It is an -absurdity to require a man to do the good simply for its own sake. This -is just as impracticable as that he should do the evil simply for the -sake of the evil. Hence if morality would not be wholly fruitless, it -must return to its empirical basis, and venture to adopt the true -principle of all acting, viz., sensuous pleasure and pain, or, in other -words, selfishness as an actual moral principle. Hence, as a correct -legislation is that which secures obedience to its laws through reward -and punishment, _i. e._ through selfishness, so will a correct system of -morals be that which derives the duties of men from self-love, which -shows that that which is forbidden is something which is followed by -disagreeable consequences. A system of ethics which does not involve the -self-interest of men, or which wars against this, necessarily remains -fruitless. - - - - -SECTION XXXII. - -THE FRENCH CLEARING UP (_Aufklaerung_) AND MATERIALISM. - - -1. It has already been remarked (§ XXX.) that the carrying out of -empiricism to its extremes, as was attempted in France, was most -intimately connected with the general condition of the French people and -state, in the period before the revolution. The contradictory element in -the character of the Middle Ages, the external and dualistic relation to -the spiritual world, had developed itself in Catholic France till it had -corrupted and destroyed every condition. Morality, mainly through the -influence of a licentious court, had become wholly corrupted; the state -had sunk to an unbridled despotism, and the church to a hierarchy as -hypocritical as it was powerful. Thus, as every intellectual edifice was -threatened with ruin, nature, as matter without intellect, as the object -of sensation and desire, alone remained. Yet it is not the materialistic -extreme which constitutes the peculiar character and tendency of the -period now before us. The common character of the philosophers of the -eighteenth century is rather, and most prominently, the opposition -against every ruling restraint, and perversion in morals, religion, and -the state. Their criticism and polemics, which were much more ingenious -and eloquent than strictly scientific, were directed against the whole -realm of traditional and given and positive notions. They sought to show -the contradiction between the existing elements in the state and the -church, and the incontrovertible demands of the reason. They sought to -overthrow in the faith of the world every fixed opinion which had not -been established in the eye of reason, and to give the thinking man the -full consciousness of his pure freedom. In order that we may correctly -estimate the merit of these men, we must bring before us the French -world of that age against which their attacks were directed; the -dissoluteness of a pitiful court, the slavish obedience exacted by a -corrupt priesthood, a church sunken into decay yet seeking worldly -honor, a state constitution, a condition of rights and of society, which -must be profoundly revolting to every thinking man and every moral -feeling. It is the immortal merit of these men that they gave over to -scorn and hatred the abjectness and hypocrisy which then reigned; that -they brought the minds of men to look with indifference upon the idols -of the world, and awakened within them a consciousness of their own -autonomy. - -2. The most famous and influential actor in this period of the French -clearing up, is _Voltaire_ (1694-1778). Though a writer of great -versatility, rather than a philosopher, there was yet no philosopher of -that time who exerted so powerful an influence upon the whole thinking -of his country and his age. Voltaire was no atheist. On the contrary, he -regarded the belief in a Supreme Being to be so necessary, that he once -said that if there were no God we should be under the necessity of -inventing one. He was just as little disposed to deny the immortality of -the soul, though he often expressed his doubts upon it. He regarded the -atheistic materialism of a La Mettrie as nothing but nonsense. In these -respects, therefore, he is far removed from the standpoint of the -philosophers who followed him. His whole hatred was expended against -Christianity as a positive religion. To destroy this system he -considered as his peculiar mission, and he left no means untried to -attain this anxiously longed-for end. His unwearied warfare against -every positive religion prepared the way and gave weapons for the -attacks against spiritualism which followed. - -3. The Encyclopedists had a more decidedly sceptical relation to the -principles and the basis of spiritualism. The philosophical Encyclopedia -established by _Diderot_ (1713-1784), and published by him in connection -with d'Alembert, is a memorable monument of the ruling spirit in France -in the time before the revolution. It was the pride of France at that -age, because it expressed in a splendid and universally accessible form -the inner consciousness of the French people. With the keenest wit it -reasoned away law from the state, and freedom from morality, and spirit -and God from nature, though all this was done only in scattered, and, -for the most part, timorous intimations. In Diderot's independent -writings we find talent of much philosophic importance united with great -earnestness. But it is very difficult to fix and accurately to limit his -philosophic views, since they were very gradually formed, and Diderot -expressed them always with some reserve and accommodation. In general, -however, it may be remarked, that in the progress of his speculations he -constantly approached nearer the extreme of the philosophical direction -of his age. In his earlier writings a Deist, he afterwards avowed the -opinion that every thing is God. At first defending the immateriality -and immortality of the soul, he expressed himself at a later period -decidedly against these doctrines, affirming that the species alone has -an abiding being while the individual passes away, and that immortality -is nothing other than to live in the thoughts of coming generations. But -Diderot did not venture to the real extreme of logical materialism; his -moral earnestness restrained him from this. - -4. The last word of materialism was spoken with reckless audacity by _La -Mettrie_ (1709-1751), a contemporary of Diderot: every thing spiritual -is a delusion, and physical enjoyment is the highest end of men. Faith -in the existence of a God, says La Mettrie, is just as groundless as it -is fruitless. The world will not be happy till atheism becomes -universally established. Then alone will there be no more religious -strife, then alone will theologians, the most odious of combatants, -disappear, and nature, poisoned at present by their influence, will come -again to its rights. In reference to the human soul, there can be no -philosophy but materialism. All the observation and experience of the -greatest philosophers and physicians declare this. Soul is nothing but a -mere name, which has a rational signification only when we understand by -it that part of our body which thinks. This is the brain, which has its -muscles of thought, just as the limbs have their muscles of motion. That -which gives man his advantage over the brutes is, first, the -organization of his brain, and second, its capacity for receiving -instruction. Otherwise, is man a brute like the beasts around him, -though in many respects surpassed by these. Immortality is an absurdity. -The soul perishes with the body of which it forms a part. With death -every thing is over, _la farce est jouée_! The practical and selfish -application of all this is--let us enjoy ourselves as long as we exist, -and not throw away any satisfaction we can attain. - -5. The _Systéme de la Nature_ afterwards attempted to elaborate with -greater earnestness and scientific precision, that which had been -uttered so superficially and so superciliously by La Mettrie, viz., the -doctrine that matter alone exists, while mind is nothing other than -matter refined. - -The _Systéme de la Nature_ appeared in London under a fictitious name in -1770. It was then published as a posthumous work of Mirabaud, late -secretary of the Academy. It doubtless had its origin in the circle -which was wont to assemble with Baron Holbach, and of which Diderot, -Grimm, and others formed a part. Whether the Baron Holbach himself, or -his tutor Lagrange is the author of this work, or whether it is the -joint production of a number, cannot now be determined. The _Systéme de -la Nature_ is hardly a French book: the style is too heavy and tedious. - -There is, in fact, nothing but matter and motion, says this work. Both -are inseparably connected. If matter is at rest, it is only because -hindered in motion, for in its essence it is not a dead mass. Motion is -twofold, attraction and repulsion. The different motions which we see -are the product of these two, and through these different motions arise -the different connections and the whole manifoldness of things. The laws -which direct in all this are eternal and unchangeable.--The most weighty -consequences of such a doctrine are: - -(1.) _The materiality of man._ Man is no twofold being compounded of -mind and matter, as is erroneously believed. If the inquiry is closely -made what the mind is, we are answered, that the most accurate -philosophical investigations have shown, that the principle of activity -in man is a substance whose peculiar nature cannot be known, but of -which we can affirm that it is indivisible, unextended, invisible, &c. -But now, who should conceive any thing determinate in a substance which -is only the negation of that which gives knowledge, an idea which is -peculiarly only the absence of all ideas? Still farther, how can it be -explained upon such a hypothesis, that a substance which itself is not -material can work upon material things; and how can it set these in -motion, since there is no point of contact between the two? In fact, -those who distinguish their soul from their body, have only to make a -distinction between their brain and their body. Thought is only a -modification of our brain, just as volition is another modification of -the same bodily organ. - -(2.) Another chimera, the belief in the being of a God, is connected -with the twofold division of man into body and soul. This belief arises -like the hypothesis of a soul-substance, because mind is falsely divided -from matter, and nature is thus made twofold. The evil which men -experienced, and whose natural cause they could not discover, they -assigned to a deity which they imagined for the purpose. The first -notions of a God have their source therefore in sorrow, fear, and -uncertainty. We tremble because our forefathers for thousands of years -have done the same. This circumstance awakens no auspicious -prepossession. But not only the rude, but also the theological idea of -God is worthless, for it explains no phenomenon of nature. It is, -moreover, full of absurdities, for, since it ascribes moral attributes -to God, it renders him human; while on the other hand, by a mass of -negative attributes, it seeks to distinguish him absolutely from every -other being. The true system, the system of nature, is hence atheistic. -But such a doctrine requires a culture and a courage which neither all -men nor most men possess. If we understand by the word atheist one who -considers only _dead_ matter, or who designates the _moving power_ in -nature with the name God, then is there no atheist, or whoever would be -one is a fool. But if the word means one who denies the existence of a -spiritual being, a being whose attributes can only be a source of -annoyance to men, then are there indeed atheists, and there would be -more of them, if a correct knowledge of nature and a sound reason were -more widely diffused. But if atheism is true, then should it be -diffused. There are, indeed, many who have cast off the yoke of -religion, who nevertheless think it is necessary for the common people -in order to keep them within proper limits. But this is just as if we -should determine to give a man poison lest he should abuse his strength. -Every kind of Deism leads necessarily to superstition, since it is not -possible to continue on the standpoint of pure deism. - -(3.) With such premises the freedom and immortality of the soul both -disappear. Man, like every other substance in nature, is a link in the -chain of necessary connection, a blind instrument in the hands of -necessity. If any thing should be endowed with self-motion, that is, -with a capacity to produce motion without any other cause, then would it -have the power to destroy motion in the universe; but this is contrary -to the conception of the universe, which is only an endless series of -necessary motions spreading out into wider circles continually. The -claim of an individual immortality is absurd. For to affirm that the -soul exists after the destruction of the body, is to affirm that a -modification of a substance can exist after the substance itself has -disappeared. There is no other immortality than to live in the -remembrance of posterity. - -(4.) The practical consequences of these principles are in the highest -degree favorable for the system of nature, the utility of any doctrine -being ever the first criterion of its truth. While the ideas of -theologians are productive only of disquiet and anxiety to man, the -system of nature frees him from all such unrest, teaches him to enjoy -the present moment, and to quietly yield to his destiny, while it gives -him that kind of apathy which every one must regard as a blessing. If -morality would be active, it can rest only upon self-love and -self-interest; it must show man whither his well-considered interest -would lead him. He is a good man who gains his own interest in such a -way that others will find it for their interest to assist him. The -system of self-interest, therefore, demands the union of men among each -other, and hence we have true morality. - -The logical dogmatic materialism of the _Système de la Nature_ is the -farthest limit of an empirical direction in philosophy, and consequently -closes that course of the development of a one-sided realism which had -begun with Locke. The attempt first made by Locke to explain and derive -the ideal world from the material, ended in materialism with the total -reduction of every thing spiritual to the material, with the total -denial of the spiritual. We must now, before proceeding farther, -according to the classification made § XXVII., consider the idealistic -course of development which ran parallel with the systems of a partial -realism. At the head of this course stands _Leibnitz_. - - - - -SECTION XXXIII. - -LEIBNITZ. - - -As empiricism sprang from the striving to subject the intellectual to -the material, to materialize the spiritual, so on the other hand, -idealism had its source in the effort to spiritualize the material, or -so to apprehend the conception of mind that matter could be subsumed -under it. To the empiric-sensualistic direction, mind was nothing but -refined matter, while to the idealistic direction matter was only -degenerated (_vergröbert_) mind ("a confused notion," as Leibnitz -expresses it). The former, in its logical development, was driven to the -principle that only material things exist, the latter (as with Leibnitz -and Berkeley) comes to the opposite principle, that there are only souls -and their ideas. For the partial realistic standpoint, material things -were the truly substantial. But for the idealistic standpoint, the -substantial belongs alone to the intellectual world, to the Egos. Mind, -to the partial realism, was essentially void, a _tabula rasa_, its whole -content came to it from the external world. But a partial idealism -sought to carry out the principle that nothing can come into the mind -which had not at least been preformed within it, that all its knowledge -is furnished it by itself. According to the former view knowledge was a -passive relation, according to the latter was it wholly active. While, -in fine, a partial realism had attempted to explain the becoming in -nature for the most part through real, _i. e._ through mechanical -motives (_l'homme machine_ is the title of one of la Mettrie's -writings), idealism had sought an explanation of the same through ideal -motives, _i. e._ teleologically. While the former had made its prominent -inquiry for moving causes, and had, indeed, often ridiculed the search -for a final cause; it is final causes toward which the latter directs -its chief aim. The mediation between mind and matter, between thought -and being, will now be sought in the final cause, in the teleological -harmony of all things (_pre-established harmony_). The standpoint of -Leibnitz may thus be characterized in a word. - -_Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz_ was born in 1646, at Leipsic, where his -father was professor. Having chosen the law as his profession, he -entered the university in 1661, and in 1663 he defended for his degree -of doctor in philosophy, his dissertation _de principio individui_, a -theme well characteristic of the direction of his later philosophizing. -He afterwards went to Jena, and subsequently to Altdorf, where he became -doctor of laws. At Altdorf he was offered a professorship of -jurisprudence, which he refused. The rest of his life was unsettled and -desultory, spent for the most part in courts, where, as a versatile -courtier, he was employed in the most varied duties of diplomacy. In the -year 1672 he went to Paris, in order to induce Louis XIV. to undertake -the conquest of Egypt. He subsequently visited London, whence he was -afterwards called to Hanover, as councillor of the Duke of Brunswick. He -received later a post as librarian at Wolfenbüttel, between which place -and Hanover he spent the most of his subsequent life, though interrupted -with numerous journeys to Vienna, Berlin, etc. He was intimately -associated with the Prussian Electress, Maria Charlotte, a highly -talented woman, who surrounded herself with a circle of the most -distinguished scholars of the time, and for whom Liebnitz wrote, at her -own request, his _Theodicée_. In 1701, after Prussia had become a -kingdom, an academy was established at Berlin, through, his efforts, and -he became its first president. Similar, but fruitless attempts were made -by him to establish academies in Dresden and Vienna. In 1711 the title -of imperial court councillor, and a baronage, was bestowed upon him by -the emperor Charles VI. Soon after, he betook himself to Vienna, where -he remained a considerable period, and wrote his Monadology, at the -solicitation of Prince Eugene. He died in 1716. Next to Aristotle, -Leibnitz was the most highly gifted scholar that had ever lived; with -the richest and most extensive learning, he united the highest and most -penetrating powers of mind. Germany has reason to be proud of him, -since, after Jacob Boehme, he is the first philosopher of any note among -the Germans. With him philosophy found a home in Germany. It is to be -regretted that the great variety of his efforts and literary -undertakings, together with his roving manner of life, prevented him -from giving any connected exhibition of his philosophy. His views are -for the most part developed only in brief and occasional writings and -letters, composed frequently in the French language. It is hence not -easy to state his philosophy in its internal connection, though none of -his views are isolated, but all stand strictly connected with each -other. The following are the chief points: - -1. THE DOCTRINE OF MONADS.--The fundamental peculiarity of Leibnitz's -theory is its opposition to Spinozism. Substance, as the indeterminate -universal, was with Spinoza the only positive. With Leibnitz also the -conception of substance lay at the basis of his philosophy, but his -definition of it was entirely different. While Spinoza had sought to -exclude from his substance every positive determination, and especially -all acting, and had apprehended it simply as pure being, Leibnitz viewed -it as living activity and active energy, an example for which might be -found in a stretched bow, which moved and straightened itself through -its own energy as soon as the external hindrance was removed. That this -active energy forms the essence of substance is a principle to which -Leibnitz ever returns, and from which, in fact, all the other chief -points in his philosophy may be derived. From this there follow at the -outset two determinations of substance directly opposed to Spinozism; -first, that it is a single being, a monad; and second, that there are a -multiplicity of monads. The first follows because substance, in so far -as it exercises an activity similar to an elastic body, is essentially -an excluding activity, or repulsion; the conception of an individual or -a monad being that which excludes another from itself. The second -follows because the existence of one monad involves the existence of -many. The conception of one individual postulates other individuals, -which stand over against the one as excluded from it. Hence the -fundamental thesis of the Leibnitz philosophy in opposition to Spinozism -is this, viz., there is a multiplicity of individual substances or -monads. - -2. THE MONADS MORE ACCURATELY DETERMINED.--The monads of Leibnitz are -similar to atoms in their general features. Like these they are -corpuscular units, independent of any external influence, and -indestructible by any external power. But notwithstanding this -similarity, there is an important and characteristic difference between -the two. First, the atoms are not distinguished from each other, they -are all qualitatively alike; but each one of the monads is different in -quality from every other, every one is a peculiar world for itself, -every one is different from every other. According to Leibnitz, there -are no two things in the world which are exactly alike. Secondly, atoms -can be considered as extended and divisible, but the monads are -metaphysical points, and actually indivisible. Here, lest we should -stumble at this proposition (for an aggregate of unextended monads can -never give an extended world), we must take into consideration -Leibnitz's view of space, which, according to him, is not something -real, but only confused, subjective representation. Thirdly, the monad -is a representative being. With the atomists such a determination would -amount to nothing, but with Leibnitz it has a very important part to -play. According to him, in every monad, every other is reflected; every -monad is a living mirror of the universe, and ideally contains the whole -within itself as in a germ. In thus mirroring the world, however, the -monad is not passive but spontaneously self-active: it does not receive -the images which it mirrors, but produces them spontaneously itself, as -the soul does a dream. In every monad, therefore, the all-seeing and -all-knowing one might read every thing, even the future, since this is -potentially contained in the present. Every monad is a kind of God. -(_Parvus in suo genere Deus._) - -3. THE PRE-ESTABLISHED HARMONY.--The universe is thus the sum of all the -monads. Every thing, every composite, is an aggregate of monads. Thus -every bodily organism is not one substance, but many, it is a -multiplicity of monads, like a machine which is made up of a number of -distinct pieces of mechanism. Leibnitz compared bodies to a fish-pond, -which might be full of living elements, though dead itself. The ordinary -view of things is thus wholly set aside; the truly substantial does not -belong to bodies, _i. e._ to the aggregates, but to their original -elements. Matter, in the vulgar sense, as something conceived to be -without mind, does not at all exist. How now must the inner connection -of the universe be conceived? In the following way. Every monad is a -representative being, and at the same time, each one is different from -every other. This difference, therefore, depends alone upon the -difference of representation: there are just as many different degrees -of representation as there are monads, and these degrees may be fixed -according to some of their prominent stages. The representations may be -classified according to the distinction between confused and distinct -knowledge. Hence a monad of the lowest rank (a monad _toute nue_) will -be one which _simply_ represents, _i. e._ which stands on the stage of -most confused knowledge. Leibnitz compares this state with a swoon, or -with our condition in a dreamy sleep, in which we are not without -representations, (notions)--for otherwise we could have none when -awaking--but in which the representations are so numerous that they -neutralize each other and do not come into the consciousness. This is -the stage of inorganic nature. In a higher rank are those monads in -which the representation is active as a formative vital force, though -still without consciousness. This is the stage of the vegetable world. -Still higher ascends the life of the monad when it attains to sensation -and memory, as is the case in the animal kingdom. The lower monads may -be said to sleep, and the brute monads to dream. When still farther the -soul rises to reason or reflection, we call it mind, spirit.--The -distinction of the monads from each other is, therefore, this, that each -one, though mirroring the whole and the same universe in itself, does it -from a different point of view, and, therefore, differently, the one -more, and the rest less perfectly. Each one is a different centre of the -world which it mirrors. Each one contains the whole universe, the whole -infinity within itself, and in this respect is like God, the only -difference being that God knows every thing with perfect distinctness, -while the monad represents it confusedly, though one monad may represent -it more confusedly than another. The limitation of a monad does not, -therefore, consist in its containing less than another or than God, but -only in its containing more imperfectly or in its representing less -distinctly.--Upon this standpoint the universe, in so far as every monad -mirrors one and the same universe, though each in a different way, -represents a drama of the greatest possible difference, as well as of -the greatest possible unity and order, _i. e._ of the greatest possible -perfection, or the _absolute harmony_. For distinction in unity is -harmony.--But in still another respect the universe is a system of -harmony. Since the monads do not work upon each other, but each one -follows only the law of its own being, there is danger lest the inner -harmony of the universe may be disturbed. How is this danger removed? -Thus, viz., every monad mirrors the whole and the same universe. The -changes of the collected monads, therefore, run parallel with each -other, and in this consists the harmony of all as pre-established by -God. - -4. THE RELATION OF THE DEITY TO THE MONADS.--What part does the -conception of God play in the system of Leibnitz? An almost idle one. -Following the strict consequences of his system, Leibnitz should have -held to no proper theism, but the harmony of the universe should have -taken the place of the Deity. Ordinarily he considers God as the -sufficient cause of all monads. But he was also accustomed to consider -the final cause of a thing as its sufficient cause. In this respect, -therefore, he almost identifies God and the absolute final cause. -Elsewhere he considers the Deity as a simple primitive substance, or as -the individual primitive unity. Again, he speaks of God as a pure -immaterial actuality, _actus purus_, while to the monads belongs matter, -_i. e._ restrained actuality, striving, _appetitio_. Once he calls him a -monad, though this is in manifest contradiction with the determinations -otherwise assigned him. It was for Leibnitz a very difficult problem to -bring his monadology and his theism into harmony with each other, -without giving up the premises of both. If he held fast to the -substantiality of the monads, he was in danger of making them -independent of the Deity, and if he did not, he could hardly escape -falling back into Spinozism. - -5. THE RELATION OF SOUL AND BODY is clearly explained on the standpoint -of the pre-established harmony. This relation, taking the premises of -the monadology, might seem enigmatical. If no monad can work upon any -other, how can the soul work upon the body to lead and move it? The -enigma is solved by the pre-established harmony. While the body and -soul, each one independently of the other, follows the laws of its -being, the body working mechanically, and the soul pursuing ends, yet -God has established such a concordant harmony of the two activities, -such a parallelism of the two functions, that there is in fact a perfect -unity for body and soul. There are, says Leibnitz, three views -respecting the relation of body and soul. The first and most common -supposes a reciprocal influence between the two, but such a view is -untenable, because there can be no interchange between mind and matter. -The second and occasional one (_cf._ § XXV. 1), brings about this -interchange through the constant assistance of God, which is nothing -more nor less than to make God a _Deus ex machina_. Hence the only -solution for the problem is the hypothesis of a pre-established harmony. -Leibnitz illustrates these three views in the following example. Let one -conceive of two watches, whose hands ever accurately point to the same -time. This agreement may be explained, first (the common view), by -supposing an actual connection between the hands of each, so that the -hand of the one watch might draw the hand of the other after it, or -second (the occasional view), by conceiving of a watch-maker who -continually keeps the hands alike, or in fine (the pre-established -harmony), by ascribing to each a mechanism so exquisitely wrought that -each one goes in perfect independence of the other, and at the same time -in entire agreement with it.--That the soul is immortal (indestructible), -follows at once from the doctrine of monads. There is no proper death. -That which is called death is only the soul losing a part of the monads -which compose the mechanism of its body, while the living element goes -back to a condition similar to that in which it was before it came upon -the theatre of the world. - -6. The monadology has very important consequences in reference to THE -THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE. As the philosophy of Leibnitz, by its opposition to -Spinozism, had to do with the doctrine of being, so by its opposition to -the empiricism of Locke must it expound the theory of knowledge. Locke's -Essay on the Human Understanding had attracted Leibnitz without -satisfying him, and he therefore attempted a new investigation in his -_Nouveaux Essais_, in which he defended the doctrine of innate ideas. -But this hypothesis of innate ideas Leibnitz now freed from that -defective view which had justified the objections of Locke. The -innateness of the ideas must not be held as though they were explicitly -and consciously contained in the mind, but rather the mind possesses -them potentially and only virtually, though with the capacity to produce -them out of itself. All thoughts are properly innate, _i. e._ they do -not come into the mind from without, but are rather produced by it from -itself. Any external influence upon the mind is inconceivable, it even -needs nothing external for its sensations. While Locke had compared the -mind to an unwritten piece of paper, Leibnitz likened it to a block of -marble, in which the veins prefigure the form of the statue. Hence the -common antithesis between rational and empirical knowledge disappears -with Leibnitz in the degrees of greater or less distinctness.--Among -these theoretically innate ideas, Leibnitz recognizes two of special -prominence, which take the first rank as principles of all knowledge and -all ratiocination,--the principle of contradiction (_principium -contradictionis_), and the principle of sufficient cause (_principium -rationis sufficientis_). To these, as a principle of the second rank, -must be added the _principium indiscernibilium_, or the principle that -there are in nature no two things wholly alike. - -7. The most elaborate exhibition of Leibnitz's theological views is -given in his _Théodicée_. The Théodicée, is, however, his weakest work, -and has but a loose connection with the rest of his philosophy. Written -at the instigation of a woman, it belies this origin neither in its form -nor in its content--not in its form, for in its effort to be popular it -becomes diffuse and unscientific, and not in its content, for it -accommodates itself to the positive dogmas and the premises of theology -farther than the scientific basis of the system of Leibnitz would -permit. In this work, Leibnitz investigates the relation of God to the -world in order to show a conformity in this relation to a final cause, -and to free God from the charge of acting without or contrary to an aim. -Why is the world as it is? God might have created it very differently. -True, answers Leibnitz, God saw an infinite number of worlds as possible -before him, but out of all these he chose the one which actually is as -the best. This is the famous doctrine of the best world, according to -which no more perfect world is possible than the one which is.--But how -so? Is not the existence of evil at variance with this? Leibnitz answers -this objection by distinguishing three kinds of evil, the metaphysical, -the physical, and the moral. The metaphysical evil, _i. e._ the -finiteness and incompleteness of things, is necessary because -inseparable from finite existence, and is thus independent of the will -of God. Physical evil (pain, &c.), though not independent of the will of -God, is often a good conditionally, _i. e._ as a punishment or means of -improvement. Moral evil or wickedness can in no way be charged to the -will of God. Leibnitz took various ways to account for its existence, -and obviate the contradiction lying between it and the conception of -God. At one time he says that wickedness is only permitted by God as a -_conditio sine qua non_, because without wickedness there were no -freedom, and without freedom no virtue. Again, he reduces the moral evil -to the metaphysical, and makes wickedness nothing but a want of -perfection, a negation, a limitation, playing the same part as do the -shadows in a painted picture, or the discords in a piece of music, which -do not diminish the beauty, but only increase it through contrast. -Again, he distinguishes between the material and the formal element in a -wicked act. The material of sin, the power to act, is from God, but the -formal element, the wickedness of the act, belongs wholly to man, and is -the result of his limitation, or, as Leibnitz here and there expresses -it, of his eternal self-predestination. In no case can the harmony of -the universe be destroyed through such a cause. - -These are the chief points of Leibnitz's philosophy. The general -characteristic of it as given in the beginning of the present section, -will be found to have its sanction in the specific exhibition that has -now been furnished. - - - - -SECTION XXXIV. - -BERKELEY. - - -Leibnitz had not carried out the standpoint of idealism to its extreme. -He had indeed, on the one side, explained space and motion and bodily -things as phenomena which had their existence only in a confused -representation, but on the other side, he had not wholly denied the -existence of the bodily world, but had recognized as a reality lying at -its basis, the world of monads. The phenomenal or bodily world had its -fixed and substantial foundation in the monads. Thus Leibnitz, though an -idealist, did not wholly break with realism. The ultimate consequence of -a subjective idealism would have been to wholly deny the reality of the -objective, sensible world, and explain corporeal objects as simply -phenomena, as nothing but subjective notions without any objective -reality as a basis. This consequence the idealistic counterpart to the -ultimate realistic result of materialism--appears in _George Berkeley_, -who was born in Ireland, 1684, made bishop of the Anglican Church in -1734, and died in 1753. Hence, though he followed the empiricism of -Locke, and sustained no outward connection with Leibnitz, we must place -him in immediate succession to the latter as the perfecter of a -subjective idealism. - -Our sensations, says Berkeley, are entirely subjective. We are wholly in -error if we believe that we have a sensation of external objects or -perceive them. That which we have and perceive is only our sensations. -It is _e. g._ clear, that by the sense of sight we can _see_ neither the -distance, the size, nor the form of objects, but that we only _conclude_ -that these exist, because our experience has taught us that a certain -sensation of sight is always attended by certain sensations of touch. -That which we see is only colors, clearness, obscurity, &c., and it is -therefore false to say that we see and feel the same thing. So also we -never go out of ourselves for those sensations to which we ascribe most -decidedly an objective character. The peculiar objects of our -understanding are only our own affections; all ideas are hence only our -own sensations. But just as there can be no sensations outside of the -sensitive subject, so no idea can have existence outside of him who -possesses it. The so-called objects exist only in our notion, and have a -being only as they are perceived. It is the great error of most -philosophers that they ascribe to corporeal objects a being outside the -conceiving mind, and do not see that they are only mental. It is not -possible that material things should produce any thing so wholly -distinct from themselves as sensations and notions. There is no such -thing as a material external world; _mind alone exists_ as thinking -being, whose nature consists in thinking and willing. But whence then -arise all our sensations which come to us like the images of fancy, -without our agency, and which are thus no products of our will? They -arise from a spirit superior to ourselves--for only a spirit can produce -within us notions--even from God. God gives us ideas; but as it would be -contradictory to assert that a being could give what it does not -possess, so ideas exist _in God_, and we derive them from him. These -ideas in God may be called archetypes, and those in us ectypes.--In -consequence of this view, says Berkeley, we do not deny an independent -reality of things, we only deny that they can exist elsewhere than in an -understanding. Instead therefore of speaking of a nature in which, _e. -g._ the sun is the cause of warmth, &c., the accurate expression would -be this: God announces to us through the sense of sight that we should -soon perceive a sensation of warmth. Hence by nature we are only to -understand the succession or the connection of ideas, and by natural -laws the constant order in which they proceed, _i. e._ the laws of the -association of ideas. This thorough-going subjective idealism, this -complete denial of matter, Berkeley considered as the surest way to -oppose materialism and atheism. - - - - -SECTION XXXV. - -WOLFF. - - -The idealism of Berkeley, as was to be expected from the nature of the -case, remained without any farther development, but the philosophy of -Leibnitz was taken up and subjected to a farther revision by _Christian -Wolff_. He was born in Breslau in 1679. He was chosen professor at -Halle, where he became obnoxious to the charge of teaching a doctrine at -variance with the Scriptures, and drew upon himself such a violent -opposition from the theologians of the university, that a cabinet order -was issued for his dismissal on the 8th of November, 1723, and he was -enjoined to leave Prussia within forty-eight hours on pain of being -hung. He then became professor in Marburg, but was afterwards recalled -to Prussia by Frederic II. immediately upon his accession to the throne. -He was subsequently made baron, and died 1754. In his chief thoughts he -followed Leibnitz, a connection which he himself admitted, though he -protested against the identification of his philosophy with that of -Leibnitz, and objected to the name, _Philosophia Leibnitio-Wolffiana_, -which was taken by his disciple Bilfinger. The historical merit of Wolff -is threefold. First, and most important, he laid claim again to the -whole domain of knowledge in the name of philosophy, and sought again to -build up a systematic framework, and make an encyclopedia of philosophy -in the highest sense of the word. Though he did not himself furnish much -new material for this purpose, yet he carefully elaborated and arranged -that which he found at hand. Secondly, he made again the philosophical -method as such, an object of attention. His own method is, indeed, an -external one as to its content, namely, the mathematical or the -mathematico-syllogistical, recommended by Leibnitz, and by the -application of this his whole philosophizing sinks to a level formalism. -(For instance, in his principles of architecture, the eighth proposition -is--"a window must be wide enough for two persons to recline together -conveniently,"--a proposition which is thus proved: "we are more -frequently accustomed to recline and look out at a window in company -with another person than alone, and hence, since the builder of the -house should satisfy the owner in every respect (§ 1), he must make a -window wide enough for two persons conveniently to recline within it at -the same time".) Still this formalism is not without its advantage, for -it subjects the philosophical content to a logical treatment. Thirdly, -Wolff has taught philosophy to speak German, an art which it has not -since forgotten. Next to Leibnitz, he is entitled to the merit of having -made the German language for ever the organ of philosophy. - -The following remarks will suffice for the content and the scientific -classification of Wolff's philosophy. He defines philosophy to be the -science of the possible as such. But that is possible which contains no -contradiction. Wolff defends this definition against the charge of -presuming too much. It is not affirmed, he says, with this definition -that either he or any other philosopher knows every thing which is -possible. The definition only claims for philosophy the whole province -of human knowledge, and it is certainly proper that philosophy should be -described according to the highest perfection which it can attain, even -though it has not yet actually reached it.--In what parts now does this -science of the possible consist? Resting on the perception that there -are within the soul two faculties, one of knowing and one of willing, -Wolff divides philosophy into two great parts, theoretical philosophy -(an expression, however, which first appears among his followers), or -metaphysics, and practical philosophy. Logic precedes both as a -preliminary training for philosophical study. Metaphysics are still -farther divided by Wolff into ontology, cosmology, psychology, and -natural theology; practical philosophy he divides into ethics, whose -object is man as man; economics, whose object is man as a member of the -family; and politics, whose object is man as a citizen of the state. - -1. ONTOLOGY is the first part of Wolff's metaphysics. Ontology treats of -what are now called categories, or those fundamental conceptions which -are applied to every object, and must therefore at the outset be -investigated. Aristotle had already furnished a table of categories, but -he had derived them wholly empirically. It is not much better with the -ontology of Wolff; it is laid out like a philosophical dictionary. At -its head he places the principle of contradiction, viz.: it is not -possible for any thing to be, and at the same time not to be. The -conception of the possible at once follows from this principle. That is -possible which contains no contradiction. That is necessary, the -opposite of which contradicts itself, and that is accidental, the -opposite of which is possible. Every thing which is possible is a thing, -though only an imaginary one; that which neither is, nor is possible, is -nothing. When many things together compose a thing, this is a whole, and -the individual things comprehended by it are its parts. The greatness of -a thing consists in the multitude of its parts. If A contains that by -which we can understand the being of B, then that in A by which B -becomes understood is the ground of B, and the whole A which contains -the ground of B is its cause. That which contains the ground of its -properties is the essence of a thing. Space is the arrangement of things -which exist conjointly. Place is the determinate way in which a thing -exists in conjunction with others. Movement is change of place. Time is -the arrangement of that which exists successively, etc. - -2. COSMOLOGY.--Wolff defines the world to be a series of changing -objects, which exist conjointly and successively, but which are so -connected together that one ever contains the ground of the other. -Things are connected in space and in time. By virtue of this universal -connection, the world is one united whole; the essence of the world -consists in the manner of its connection. But this manner cannot be -changed. It can neither receive any new ingredients nor lose any of -those it possesses. From the essence of the world spring all its -changes. In this respect the world is a machine. Events in the world are -only hypothetically necessary in so far as previous events have had a -certain character; they are accidental in so far as the world might have -been directed otherwise. In respect to the question whether the world -had a beginning in time, Wolff does not express himself explicitly. -Since God is independent of time, but the world has been from eternity -in time, the world therefore is in no case eternal in any sense like -God. But according to Wolff, neither space nor time has any substantial -being. Body is a connected thing composed of matter, and possessing a -moving power within itself. The powers of a body taken together are -called its nature, and the comprehension of all being is called nature -in general. That which has its ground in the essence of the world is -called natural, and that which has not, is supernatural, or a wonder. At -the close of his cosmology, Wolff treats of the perfection and -imperfection of the world. The perfection of a world consists in the -harmony with each other of every thing which exists conjointly and -successively. But since every thing has its separate rules, the -individual must give up so much from its perfection as is necessary for -the symmetry of the whole. - -3. RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY.--The soul is that within us which is -self-conscious. In the self-consciousness of the soul are itself and -other objects. Consciousness is either clear or indistinct. Clear -consciousness is thought. The soul is a simple incorporeal substance. -There dwells within it a power to represent to itself a world. In this -sense brutes also may have a soul, but a soul which possesses -understanding and will is mind, and mind belongs alone to men. The soul -of man is a mind joined to a body, and this is the distinction between -men and superior spirits. The movements of the soul and of the body -harmonize with each other by virtue of the preëstablished harmony. The -freedom of the human soul is the power according to its own arbitrament, -to choose of two possible things that which pleases it best. But the -soul does not decide without motives, it ever chooses that which it -holds to be the best. Thus the soul would seem impelled to its action by -its representations, but the understanding is not constrained to its -representations of that which is good and bad, and hence also the will -is not constrained, but free. As a simple being the soul is indivisible, -and hence incorruptible; the souls of brutes, however, have no -understanding, and hence enjoy no conscious existence after death. This -belongs alone to the human soul, and hence the human soul alone is -immortal. - -4. NATURAL THEOLOGY.--Wolff uses here the cosmological argument to -demonstrate the existence of a God. God might have made different -worlds, but has preferred the present one as the best. This world has -been called into being by the will of God. His aim in its creation was -the manifestation of his own perfection. Evil in the world does not -spring from the Divine will, but from the limited being of human things. -God permits it only as a means of good. - -This brief aphoristic exposition of Wolff's metaphysics, shows how -greatly it is related to the doctrine of Leibnitz. The latter, however, -loses much of its speculative profoundness by the abstract and logical -treatment it receives in the hands of Wolff. For the most part, the -specific elements of the monadology remain in the background; with -Wolff, his simple beings are not representative like the Monads, but -more like the Atoms. Hence there is with him much that is illogical and -contradictory. His peculiar merit in metaphysics is ontology, which he -has elaborated far more strictly than his predecessors. A multitude of -philosophical terminations owe to him their origin, and their -introduction into philosophical language. - -The philosophy of Wolff, comprehensible and distinct as it was, and by -its composition in the German language more accessible than that of -Leibnitz, soon became the popular philosophy, and gained an extensive -influence. Among the names which deserve credit for their scientific -treatment of it, we may mention _Thümming_, 1697-1728; _Bilfinger_, -1693-1750; _Baumeister_, 1708-1785; _Baumgarten_ the esthetic, -1714-1762; and his scholar _Meier_, 1718-1777. - - - - -SECTION XXXVI. - -THE GERMAN CLEARING UP. - - -Under the influence of the philosophy of Leibnitz and Wolff, though -without any immediate connection with it, there arose in Germany during -the latter half of the eighteenth century, an eclectic popular -philosophy, whose different phases may be embraced under the name of the -German clearing up. It has but little significance for the history of -philosophy, though not without importance in other respects. Its great -aim was to secure a higher culture, and hence a cultivated and polished -style of reasoning is the form in which it philosophized. It is the -_German_ counterpart of the _French_ clearing up. As the latter closed -the realistic period of development by drawing the ultimate consequence -of materialism, so the former closed the idealistic series by its -tendency to an extreme subjectivism. To the men of this direction, the -empirical, individual Ego becomes the absolute; they forget every thing -else for it, or rather every thing else has a value in their eyes only -in proportion as it refers and ministers to the subject by contributing -to its demands and satisfying its inner cravings. Hence the question of -immortality becomes now the great problem of philosophy (in which -respect we may mention _Mendelssohn_, 1727-1786, the most important man -in this direction); the eternal duration of the individual soul is the -chief point of interest; objective ideas or truths of faith, _e. g._ the -personality of God, though not denied, cease to have an interest; it is -held as a standing article of belief that we can know nothing of God. In -another current of this direction, it is moral philosophy and esthetics -(_Garvey_, 1742-1798; _Engel_, 1741-1802; _Abbt_, 1738-1766; _Sulzer_, -1720-1779) which find a scientific treatment, because both these -preserve a subjective interest. In general, every thing is viewed in its -useful relations; the useful becomes the peculiar criterion of truth; -that which is not useful to the subject, or which does not minister to -his subjective ends, is set aside. In connection with this turn of mind -stands the prevailing teleological direction which the investigations of -nature assumed (_Reimarus_, 1694-1765), and the utilitarian character -given to ethics. The happiness of the individual was considered as the -highest principle and the supreme end (_Basedow_, 1723-1790). Even -religion is contemplated from this point of view. Reimarus wrote a -treatise upon the "_advantages_" of religion, in which he attempted to -prove that religion was not subversive of earthly pleasure, but rather -increased it; and _Steinbart_ (1738-1809) elaborated, in a number of -treatises, the theme that all wisdom consists alone in attaining -happiness, _i. e._ enduring satisfaction, and that the Christian -religion, instead of forbidding this, was rather itself the true -doctrine of happiness. In other particulars Christianity received only a -temperate respect; wherever it laid claim to any authority disagreeable -to the subject (as in individual doctrines like that of future -punishment), it was opposed, and in general the effort was made to -counteract, as far as possible, the positive dogma by natural religion. -Reimarus, for example, the most zealous defender of theism and of the -teleological investigation of nature, is at the same time the author of -the Wolfenbüttel fragments. By criticizing the Gospel history, and every -thing positive and transmitted, and by rationalizing the supernatural in -religion, the subject displayed its new-found independence. In fine, the -subjective standpoint of this period exhibits itself in the numerous -autobiographies and self-confessions then so prevalent; the isolated -self is the object of admiring contemplation (_Rousseau_, 1712-1778, and -his confessions); it beholds itself mirrored in its particular -conditions, sensations, and views--a sort of flirtation with itself, -which often rises to sickly sentimentality. According to all this, it is -seen to be the extreme consequence of subjective idealism which -constitutes the character of the German clearing up period, which thus -closes the series of an idealistic development. - - - - -SECTION XXXVII. - -TRANSITION TO KANT. - - -The idealistic and the realistic stage of development to which we have -now been attending, each ended with a one-sided result. Instead of -actually and internally reconciling the opposition between thought and -being, they both issued in denying the one or the other of these -factors. Realism, on its side, had made matter absolute; and idealism, -on its side, had endowed the empirical Ego with the same -attribute--extremes in which philosophy was threatened with total -destruction. It had, in fact, in Germany as in France, become merged in -the most superficial popular philosophy. Then _Kant_ arose, and brought -again into one channel the two streams which, when separate from each -other, threatened to lose themselves amid the sands. Kant is the great -renovator of philosophy, who brought back to their point of divergence -the one-sided efforts which had preceded him, and embraced them in their -unity and totality. He stands in some special and fitting relation -either antagonistic or harmonious to all others--to Locke no less than to -Hume, to the Scottish philosophers no less than to the English and -French moralists, to the philosophy of Leibnitz and of Wolff, as well as -to the materialism of the French and the utilitarianism of the German -clearing up period. His relation to the development of a partial -idealism and a one-sided realism is thus stated: Empiricism had made the -Ego purely passive and subordinate to the sensible external -world--idealism had made it purely active, and given it a sovereignty -over the sensible world; Kant attempted to strike a balance between -these two claims, by affirming that the Ego as practical is free and -autonomic, an unconditioned lawgiver for itself, while as theoretical it -is receptive and conditioned by the phenomenal world; but at the same -time the theoretical Ego contains the two sides within itself, for if, -on the one side, empiricism may be justified upon the ground that the -material and only field of all our knowledge is furnished by experience, -so on the other side, rationalism may be justified on the ground that -there is an apriori factor and basis to our knowledge, for in experience -itself we make use of conceptions which are not furnished by experience, -but are contained apriori in our understanding. - -In order, now, that we may bring the very elaborate framework of the -Kantian philosophy into a clearer outline, let us briefly glance at its -fundamental conceptions, and notice its chief principles and results. -Kant subjected the activity of the human mind in knowing, and the origin -of our experience, to his critical investigation. Hence his philosophy -is called critical philosophy, or criticism, because it aims to be -essentially an examination of our faculty of knowledge; it is also -called transcendental philosophy, since Kant calls the reflection of the -reason upon its relation to the objective world, a transcendental -reflection (transcendental must not be confounded with transcendent), -or, in other words, a transcendental knowledge is one "which does not -relate so much to objects of knowledge, as to our way of knowing them, -so far as this is apriori possible." The examination of the faculty of -knowledge, which Kant attempts in his "_Critick of Pure Reason_," shows -the following results. All knowledge is a product of two factors, the -knowing subject and the external world. Of these two factors, the latter -furnishes our knowledge with experience, as the matter, and the former -with the conceptions of the understanding, as the form, through which a -connected knowledge, or a synthesis of our perceptions in a whole of -experience first becomes possible. If there were no external world, then -would there be no phenomena; if there were no understanding, then these -phenomena, or perceptions, which are infinitely manifold, would never be -brought into the unity of a notion, and thus no experience were -possible. Thus, while intuitions without conceptions are blind, and -conceptions without intuitions are empty, knowledge is a union of the -two, since it requires that the form of conception should be filled with -the matter of experience, and that the matter of experience should be -apprehended in the net of the understanding's conceptions. Nevertheless, -we do not know things as they are in themselves. _First_, because the -categories, or the forms of our understanding prevent. By bringing that -which is given as the material of knowledge into our own conceptions as -the form, there is manifestly a change in respect of the objects, which -become thought of not as they are, but only as we apprehend them; they -appear to us only as they are transmuted into categories. But besides -this subjective addition, there is yet another. _Secondly_, we do not -know things as they are in themselves, because even the intuitions which -we bring within the form of the understanding's conceptions, are not -pure and uncolored, but are already penetrated by a subjective medium, -namely, by the universal form of all objects of sense, space and time. -Space and time are also subjective additions, forms of sensuous -intuition, which are just as originally present in our minds as the -fundamental conceptions or categories of our understanding. That which -we would represent intuitively to ourselves we must place in space and -time, for without these no intuition is possible. From this it follows -that it is only phenomena which we know, and not things in themselves -separate from space and time. - -A superficial apprehension of these Kantian principles might lead one to -suppose that Kant's criticism did not essentially go beyond the -standpoint of Locke's empiricism. But such a supposition disappears upon -a careful scrutiny. Kant was obliged to recognize with Hume that the -conceptions, cause and effect, substance and attribute, and the other -conceptions which the human understanding sees itself necessitated to -think in the phenomena, and in which every one of its thoughts must be -found, do not arise from any experience of the sense. For instance, when -we become affected through different senses, and perceive a white color, -a sweet taste, a rough surface, &c., and predicate all these of one -thing, as a piece of sugar, there come from without only the plurality -of sensations, while the conception of unity cannot come through -sensation, but is a category or conception borne over to the sensations -from the mind itself. But instead of denying, for this reason, the -reality of these conceptions of the understanding, Kant took a step in -advance, assigning a peculiar province to this activity of the -understanding, and showing that these forms of thought thus furnished to -the matter of experience are immanent laws of the human faculty of -knowledge, the peculiar laws of the understanding's operations, which -may be obtained by a perfect analysis of our thinking activity. (Of -these laws or conceptions there are twelve, viz., unity, plurality, -totality; reality, negation, limitation; substantiality, causality, -reciprocal action; possibility, actuality, and necessity.) - -From what has been said we can see the three chief principles of the -Kantian theory of knowledge: - -1. WE KNOW ONLY PHENOMENA AND NOT THINGS IN THEMSELVES.--The experience -furnished us by the external world becomes so adjusted and altered in -its relations (for we apprehend it at first in the subjective framework -of space and time, and then in the equally subjective forms of our -understanding's conceptions), that it no longer represents the thing -itself in its original condition, pure and unmixed. - -2. NEVERTHELESS EXPERIENCE IS THE ONLY PROVINCE OF OUR KNOWLEDGE, AND -THERE IS NO SCIENCE OF THE UNCONDITIONED.--This follows of course, for -since every knowledge is the product of the matter of experience, and -the form of the understanding, and depends thus upon the co-working of -the sensory and the understanding, then no knowledge is possible of -objects for which one of these factors, experience, fails us; a -knowledge alone from the understanding's conceptions of the -unconditioned is illusory since the sensory can show no unconditioned -object corresponding to the conception. Hence the questions which Kant -places at the head of his whole Critick; how are synthetical judgments -apriori possible? _i. e._ can we widen our knowledge apriori, by thought -alone, beyond the sensuous experience? is a knowledge of the -supersensible possible? must be answered with an unconditional negative. - -3. Still, if the human knowledge makes no effort to stride beyond the -narrow limits of experience, _i. e._ to become transcendent, it involves -itself in the greatest contradictions. The three ideas of the reason, -the psychological, the cosmological, and the theological, viz. (_a_) the -idea of an absolute subject, _i. e._ of the soul, or of immortality, -(_b_) the idea of the world as a totality of all conditions and -phenomena, (_c_) the idea of a most perfect being--are so wholly without -application to the empirical actuality, are so truly regulative, and not -constitutive principles, which are only the pure products of the reason, -and are so entirely without a correspondent object in experience, that -whenever they are applied to experience, _i. e._ become conceived of as -actually existing objects, they lead to pure logical errors, to the most -obvious paralogisms and sophisms. These errors, which are partly false -conclusions and paralogisms, and partly unavoidable contradictions of -the reason with itself, Kant undertook to show in reference to all the -ideas of the reason. Take, _e. g._ the cosmological idea. Whenever the -reason posits any transcendental expressions in reference to the -universe, _i. e._ attempts to apply the forms of the finite to the -infinite, it is at once evident that the antithesis of those expressions -can be proved just as well as the thesis. The affirmation that the world -has a beginning in time, and limits in space, can be proved as well as, -and no better than its opposite, that the world has no beginning in -time, and no spacial limits. Whence it follows that all speculative -cosmology is an assumption by the reason. So also with the theological -idea; it rests on bare logical paralogisms, and false conclusions, as -Kant, with great acuteness, shows in reference to each of the proofs for -the being of a God, which previous dogmatic philosophies had attempted. -It is therefore impossible to prove and to conceive of the existence of -a God as a Supreme Being, or of the soul as a real subject, or of a -comprehending universe. The peculiar problems of metaphysics lie outside -the province of philosophical knowledge. - -Such is the negative part of the Kantian philosophy; its positive -complement is found in the "_Critick of the Practical Reason_." While -the mind as theoretical and cognitive is wholly conditioned, and ruled -by the objective and sensible world, and thus knowledge is only possible -through intuition, yet as practical does it go wholly beyond the given -(the sense impulse), and is determined only through the categorical -imperative, and the moral law, which is itself, and is therefore free -and autonomic; the ends which it pursues are those which itself, as -moral spirit, places before itself; objects are no more its masters and -lawgivers, to which it must yield if it would know the truth, but its -servants, which it may use for its own ends in actualizing its moral -law. While the theoretical mind is united to a world of sense and -phenomena, a world obedient to necessary laws, the practical mind, by -virtue of the freedom essential to it, by virtue of its direction -towards an absolute aim, belongs to a purely intelligible and -supersensible world. This is the practical idealism of Kant, from which -he derives the three practical postulates of the immortality of the -soul, moral freedom, and the being of a God, which, as theoretical -truths, had been before denied. - -With this brief sketch for our guidance, let us now pass on to a more -extended exposition of the Kantian Philosophy. - - - - -SECTION XXXVIII. - -KANT. - - -Immanuel Kant was born at Königsberg in Prussia, April 22, 1724. His -father an honest saddlemaker, and his mother a prudent and pious woman, -exerted a good influence upon him in his earliest youth. In the year -1740 he entered the university, where he connected himself with the -theological department, but devoted the most of his time to philosophy, -mathematics, and physics. He commenced his literary career in his -twenty-third year, in 1747, with a treatise entitled "_Thoughts -concerning the true estimate of Living Forces_." He was obliged by his -pecuniary circumstances to spend some years as a private tutor in -different families in the neighborhood of Königsberg. In 1755 he took a -place in the university as "_privat-docent_," which position he held for -fifteen years, during which time he gave lectures upon logic, -metaphysics, physics, mathematics, and also, during the latter part of -the time, upon ethics, anthropology, and physical geography. At this -period he adhered for the most part to the school of Wolff, though early -expressing his doubts in respect of dogmatism. From the publication of -his first treatise he applied himself to writing with unwearied -activity, though his great work, the "_Critick of pure Reason_," did not -appear till his fifty-seventh year, 1781. His "_Critick of the practical -Reason_," was issued in 1787, and his "_Religion within the bounds of -pure Reason_," in 1793. In 1770, in his forty-sixth year, he was chosen -ordinary professor of logic and metaphysics, a chair which he continued -to fill uninterruptedly till 1794, when the weakness of age obliged him -to leave it. Invitations to professorships at Jena, Erlangen, and Halle, -were given him and rejected. As soon as he became known, the noblest and -most active minds flocked from all parts of Germany to Königsberg, to -sit at the feet of the sage who was master there. One of his -worshippers, Reuss, professor of philosophy at Würzburg, who abode but a -brief time at Königsberg, entered his chamber, declaring that he had -come one hundred and sixty miles[3] in order to see Kant and to speak -with him.--During the last seventeen years of his life he occupied a -little house with a garden, in a quiet quarter of the city, where his -calm and regular mode of life might be undisturbed. His habits of life -were very simple. He never left his native province even to go as far as -Dantzic. His longest journeys were to visit some country-seats in the -environs of Königsberg. Nevertheless, as his lectures upon physical -geography testify, he acquired by reading the most accurate knowledge of -the earth. He knew all of Rousseau's works, of which _Emile_ at its -first appearance detained him for a number of days from his customary -walks. Kant died February 12, 1804, in the eightieth year of his life. -He was of medium stature, finely built, with blue eyes, and always -enjoyed sound health till in his latter years, when he became childish. -He was never married. His character was marked by an earnest love of -truth, great candor, and simple modesty. - -Though Kant's great work, the "Critick of pure Reason," which created an -epoch in the history of philosophy, did not appear till 1781; yet had he -previously shown an approach towards the same standpoint in several -smaller treatises, and particularly in his inaugural dissertation which -appeared in 1770, "_Concerning the form and the principles of the -Sense-World and that of the Understanding_." Kant himself refers the -inner genesis of his critical standpoint to Hume. "I freely confess," he -says, "that it was David Hume who first roused me from my dogmatic -slumber, and gave a different direction to my investigations in the -field of speculative philosophy." The critical view therefore first -became developed in Kant as he left the dogmatic metaphysical school, -the Wolffian philosophy in which he had grown up, and went over to the -study of a sceptical empiricism in Hume. "Hitherto," says Kant at the -close of his Critick of pure Reason, "men have been obliged to choose -either a dogmatical direction, like Wolff, or a sceptical one, like -Hume. The critical road alone is yet open. If the reader has had -pleasure and patience in travelling along this in my company, let him -now contribute his aid in making this by-path into a highway, in order -that that which many centuries could not effect may now be attained -before the expiration of the present, and the reason become perfectly -content in respect of that which has hitherto, but in vain, engaged its -curiosity." Kant had the clearest consciousness respecting the relation -of his criticism to the previous philosophy. He compares the revolution -which he himself had brought about in philosophy with that wrought by -Copernicus in astronomy, "Hitherto it has been assumed that all our -knowledge must regulate itself according to the objects; but all -attempts to make any thing out of them apriori, through notions whereby -our knowledge might be enlarged, proved, under this supposition, -abortive. Let us, then, try for once whether we do not succeed better -with the problems of metaphysics, by assuming that the objects must -regulate themselves according to our knowledge, a mode of viewing the -subject which accords so much better with the desired possibility of a -knowledge of them apriori, which must decide something concerning -objects before they are given us. The circumstances are in this case -precisely the same as with the first thoughts of Copernicus, who, -finding that his attempt to explain the motions of the heavenly bodies -did not succeed, when he assumed the whole starry host to revolve around -the spectator, tried whether he should not succeed better, if he left -the spectator himself to turn, and the stars on the contrary at rest." -In these words we have the principle of a subjective idealism, most -clearly and decidedly expressed. - -In the succeeding exposition of the Kantian philosophy we shall most -suitably follow the classification adopted by Kant himself. His -principle of classification is a psychological one. All the faculties of -the soul, he says, may be referred to three, which are incapable of any -farther reduction; knowing, feeling, and desire. The first faculty -contains the principles, the governing laws for all the three. So far as -the faculty of knowledge contains the principles of knowledge itself, is -it theoretical reason, and so far as it contains the principles of -desire and action, is it practical reason, while, so far as it contains -the principles which regulate the feelings of pleasure and pain, is it a -faculty of judgment. Thus the Kantian philosophy (on its critical side) -divides itself into three criticks, (1) Critick of pure _i. e._ -theoretical reason, (2) Critick of practical reason, (3) Critick of the -judgment. - -I. CRITICK OF PURE REASON.--The critick of pure reason, says Kant, is the -inventory in which all our possessions through pure reason are -systematically arranged. What are these possessions? When we have a -cognition, what is it that we bring thereto? To answer these questions, -Kant explores the two chief fields of our theoretical consciousness, the -two chief factors of all knowledge, the sensory and the understanding. -Firstly: what does our sensory or our faculty of intuition possess -apriori? Secondly: what is the apriori possession of our understanding? -The first of these questions is discussed in the transcendental -_Æsthetics_ (a title which we must take not in the sense now commonly -attached to the word, but in its etymological signification as the -"science of the apriori principles of the sensory"); and the second in -the transcendental _Logic_ or _Analytics_. Sense and understanding are -thus the two factors of all knowledge, the two stalks--as Kant expresses -it--of our knowledge, which may spring from a common root, though this is -unknown to us: the sensory is the receptivity, and the understanding the -spontaneity of our cognitive faculty; by the sensory, which can only -furnish intuitions, objects become _given_ to us; by the understanding, -which forms conceptions, these objects become _thought_. Conceptions -without intuitions are empty; intuitions without conceptions are blind. -Intuitions and conceptions constitute the reciprocally complemental -elements of our intellectual activity. What now are the apriori -principles respectively of our knowledge, through the sense and through -the thought? The first of these questions, as already said, is answered -by - -1. THE TRANSCENDENTAL ÆSTHETICS.--To anticipate at once the answer, we -may say that the apriori principles of our knowledge through the sense, -the original forms of sensuous intuition, are space and time. Space is -the form of the external sense, by means of which objects are given to -us as existing outside of ourselves separately and conjointly; time is -the form of the inner sense, by means of which the circumstances of our -own soul-life become objects to our consciousness. If we abstract every -thing belonging to the matter of our sensations, space remains as the -universal form in which all the materials of the external sense must be -arranged. If we abstract every thing which belongs to the matter of our -inner sense, time remains as the form which the movement of the mind had -filled. Space and time are the highest forms of the outer and inner -sense. That these forms lie apriori in the human mind, Kant proves, -first, directly from the nature of these conceptions themselves; and, -secondly, indirectly by showing that without apriori presupposing these -conceptions, it were not possible to have any certain science of -undoubted validity. The first of these he calls the _metaphysical_, and -the second the _transcendental discussion_. - -(1.) In the _metaphysical discussion_ it is to be shown, (_a_) that -space and time are apriori given, (_b_) that these notions belong to the -sensory (æsthetics) and not to the understanding (logic), _i. e._ that -they are intuitions and not conceptions, (_a_) That space and time are -apriori is clear from the fact that every experience, before it can be, -must presuppose already a space and time. I perceive something as -external to me; but this external presupposes space. Again, I have two -sensations at the same time and successively; this presupposes time, -(_b_) Space and time, however, are by no means conceptions, but forms of -intuition, or intuitions themselves. For in every universal conception -the individual is comprehended under it, and is not a part of it; but in -space and time, all individual spaces and times are parts of and -contained within the universal space and the universal time. - -(2.) In the _transcendental discussion_ Kant draws his proof indirectly -by showing that certain sciences, universally recognized as such, can -only be conceived upon the supposition that space and time are apriori. -A pure mathematics is only possible on the ground that space and time -are pure and not empirical intuitions. Kant comprises the whole problem -of the Transcendental Æsthetics in the question--how are pure -mathematical sciences possible? The ground, says Kant, upon which pure -mathematics moves, is space and time. But now mathematics utters its -principles as universal and necessary. Universal and necessary -principles, however, can never come from experience; they must have an -apriori ground; consequently it is impossible that space and time, out -of which mathematics receives its principles, should be first given -aposteriori; they must be given apriori as pure intuitions. Hence we -have a knowledge apriori, and a science which rests upon apriori -grounds; and the matter simply resolves itself into this, viz.: -whosoever should deny that apriori knowledge can be, must also at the -same time deny the possibility of mathematics. But if the fundamental -truths of mathematics are intuitions apriori, we might conclude that -there may be also apriori conceptions, out of which, in connection with -these pure intuitions, a metaphysics could be formed. This is the -positive result of the Transcendental Æsthetics, though with this -positive side the negative is closely connected. Intuition or immediate -knowledge can be attained by man only through the sensory, whose -universal intuitions are only space and time. But since these intuitions -of space and time are no objective relations, but only subjective forms, -there is therefore something subjective mingled with all our intuitions, -and we can know things not as they are in themselves, but only as they -appear to us through this subjective medium of space and time. This is -the meaning of the Kantian principle, that we do not know things in -themselves, but only phenomena. But if on this account we should affirm -that all things are in space and time, this would be too much; they are -in space and time only for us,--all phenomena of the external sense -appearing both in space and in time, and all phenomena of the inner -sense appearing only in time. Notwithstanding this, Kant would in no -ways have admitted that the world of sense is mere appearance. He -affirmed, that while he contended for a transcendental ideality, there -was, nevertheless, an empirical reality of space and time: things -external to ourselves exist just as certainly as do we and the -circumstances within us, only they are not represented to us as they are -in themselves and in their independence of space and of time. As to the -question, whether there is any thing in the thing itself back of the -phenomena, Kant intimates in the first edition of his Critick, that it -is not impossible that the Ego and the thing-in-itself are one and the -same thinking substance. This thought, which Kant threw out as a mere -conjecture, was the source of all the wider developments of the latest -philosophy. It was afterwards the fundamental idea of the Fichtian -system, that the Ego does not become affected through a thing -essentially foreign to it, but purely through itself. In the second -edition of his Critick, however, Kant omitted this sentence. - -The Transcendental Æsthetics closes with the discussion of space and -time, _i. e._ with finding out what is in the sensory apriori. But the -human mind cannot be satisfied merely with the receptive relation of the -sensory; it does not simply receive objects, but it applies to these its -own spontaneity, and attempts to think these through its conceptions, -and embrace them in the forms of its understanding. It is the object of -the _Transcendental Analytic_ (which forms the first part of the -_Transcendental Logic_), to examine these apriori conceptions or forms -of thought which lie originally in the understanding, as the forms of -space and time do in the intuitive faculty. - -2. THE TRANSCENDENTAL ANALYTIC.--It is the first problem of the Analytic -to attain the pure conceptions of the understanding. Aristotle had -already attempted to form a table of these conceptions or categories, -but he had collected them empirically instead of deriving them from a -common principle, and had numbered among them space and time, though -these are no pure conceptions of the understanding, but only forms of -intuition. But if we would have a perfect, pure, and regularly arranged -table of all the conceptions of the understanding, or all the apriori -forms of thought, we must look for a principle out of which we may -derive them. This principle is the judgment. The general fundamental -conceptions of the understanding may be perfectly attained if we look at -all the different modes or forms of the judgment. For this end Kant -considers the different kinds of judgment as ordinarily pointed out to -us by the science of logic. Now logic shows that there are four kinds of -judgment, viz., judgments of - - _Quantity._ _Quality._ _Relation._ _Modality._ - Universal, Affirmative, Categorical, Problematical, - Plurative, Negative, Hypothetical, Assertive, - Singular. Illimitable. Disjunctive. Apodictic. - -From these judgments result the same number of fundamental conceptions -or categories of the understanding, viz.: - - - _Quantity._ _Quality._ _Relation._ _Modality._ - Totality, Reality, Substance and Possibility and - inherence, impossibility, - Multiplicity, Negation, Cause and Being and - dependence, not-being, - Unity. Limitation. Reciprocal action. Necessity and - accidence. - -From these twelve categories all the rest may be derived by combination. -From the fact that these categories are shown to belong apriori to the -understanding, it follows, (1) that these conceptions are apriori, and -hence have a necessary and universal validity, (2) that by themselves -they are empty forms, and attain a content only through intuitions. But -since our intuition is wholly through the sense, these categories have -their validity only in their application to the sensuous intuition, -which becomes a proper experience only when apprehended in the -conceptions of the understanding.--Here we meet a second question; how -does this happen? How do objects become subsumed under these forms of -the understanding, which for themselves are so empty? - -There would be no difficulty with this subsumption if the objects and -the conceptions of the understanding were the same in kind. But they are -not. Because the objects come to the understanding from the sensory, -they are of the nature of the sense. Hence the question arises: how can -these sensible objects be subsumed under pure conceptions of the -understanding, and fundamental principles (judgments apriori), be formed -from them? This cannot result immediately, but there must come in -between the two, a third, which must have some thing in common with -each, _i. e._ which is in one respect pure and apriori, and in another -sensible. The two pure intuitions of the Transcendental Æsthetics, space -and time, especially the latter, are of such a nature. A transcendental -time determination, as the determination of coetaneousness, corresponds -on the one side to the categories, because it is apriori, and on the -other side to the phenomenal objects, because every thing phenomenal can -be represented only in time. The transcendental time determination, Kant -calls in this respect the transcendental _schema_, and the use which the -understanding makes of it, he calls the transcendental _schematism_ of -the pure understanding. The schema is a product of the imaginative -faculty, which self-actively determines the inner sense to this, though -the schema is something other than a mere image. An image is always -merely an individual and determinate intuition, but the schema merely -represents the universal process of the imagination, by which it -furnishes for a conception a proper image. Hence the schema can only -exist in the conception, and never suffers itself to be brought within -the sensuous intuition. If, now, we consider more closely the schematism -of the understanding, and seek the transcendental time determination for -every category, we find that: - -(1) _Quantity_ has for a universal schema _the series of time_ or -number, which represents the successive addition of one and one of the -same kind. I can only represent to myself the pure understanding -conception of greatness, except as I bring into the imagination a number -of units one after another. If I stop this process at its first -beginning, the result is unity; if I let it go on farther I have -plurality; and if I suffer it to continue without limit, there is -totality. Whenever I meet with objects in the phenomenal world, which I -can only apprehend successively, I am directed to apply the conception -of greatness, which would not be possible without the schema of _the -series of time_. - -(2) _Quality_ has for its schema _the content of time_. If I wish to -represent to myself the understanding conception of reality, which -belongs to quality, I bring before me in thought a time filled up, or a -content of time. That is real which fills a time. If also I would -represent to myself the pure understanding conception of negation, I -bring into thought a void time. - -(3) The categories of _relation_ take their schemata from _the order of -time_; for if I would represent to myself a determinate relation, I -always bring into thought a determinate order of things in time. -Substance appears as the persistence of the real in time; causality as -regular succession in time; reciprocal action as the regular -coetaneousness of the determinations in the one substance, with the -determinations in the other. - -(4) The categories of _modality_ take their schema from _the whole of -time_, _i. e._ from whether, and how, an object belongs to time. The -schema of possibility is the general harmony of a representation with -the conditions of time; the schema of actuality is the existence of an -object in a determined time; that of necessity is the existence of an -object for all time. - -We are thus furnished with all the means for forming metaphysical -fundamental principles (judgments apriori); we have, _firstly_, -conceptions apriori, and _secondly_, schemata through which we can apply -these conceptions to objects; for since every object which we can -perceive, falls in time, so must it also fall under one of these -schemata, which have been borrowed from time, and must consequently -permit the corresponding category to be applied to it. The judgments -which we here attain are synthetical. They are, corresponding to the -four classes of categories, the following: (1) All phenomena are, -according to intuition, extensive greatness, since they cannot be -apprehended otherwise than through space and time. On this principle the -axioms of intuition rely. (2) All phenomena are, according to sensation, -intensive greatness, since every sensation has a determined degree, and -is capable of increase and diminution. On this principle the -anticipations of perception rest. (3) The phenomena stand under -necessary time-determinations. They contain the substantial, which -abides, and the accidental, which changes. In reference to the change of -accidence, they are subject to the law of the following connection, -through the relation of cause and effect: as substances they are, in -respect of their accidences, in a constant reciprocal action. From this -principle spring the analogies of experience. (4) The postulates of -empirical thinking are contained in the principles: (_a_) that which -coincides with the formal conditions of experience, is possible, and can -become phenomenon; (_b_) that which agrees with the material conditions -of experience is actual, and is phenomenon; (_c_) that, whose connection -with the actual is determined according to the universal conditions of -experience, is necessary, and must be phenomenon. Such are the possible -and authorized synthetical judgments apriori. But it must not be -forgotten that we are entitled to make only an empirical use of all -these conceptions and principles, and that we must ever apply them only -to things as objects of a possible experience, and never to things in -themselves; for the conception without an object is an empty form, but -the object cannot be given to the conception except in intuition, and -the pure intuition of space and time needs to be filled by experience. -Hence, without reference to human experience, these apriori conceptions -and principles are nothing but a sporting of the imagination and the -understanding, with their representations. Their peculiar determination -is only to enable us to spell perceptions, that we may read them as -experiences. But here one is apt to fall into a delusion, which can -hardly be avoided. Since the categories are not grounded upon the -sensory, but have an apriori origin, it would seem as though their -application would reach far beyond the sense; but such a view is a -delusion; our conceptions are not able to lead us to a knowledge of -things in themselves (_noumena_), since our intuition gives us only -phenomena for the content of our conceptions, and the thing in itself -can never be given in a possible experience; our knowledge remains -limited to the phenomena. The source of all the confusions and errors -and strife in previous metaphysics, was in confounding the phenomenal -with the noumenal world. - -Besides the categories or conceptions of the understanding, which have -been considered, and which are especially important for experience, -though often applied erroneously beyond the province of experience, -there are other conceptions whose peculiar province is only to deceive; -conceptions whose express determination is to pass beyond the province -of experience, and which may consequently be called transcendent. These -are the fundamental conceptions and principles of the previous -metaphysics. To examine these conceptions, and destroy the appearance of -objective science and knowledge, which they falsely exhibit, is the -problem of the _Transcendental Dialectics_ (the second part of the -transcendental logic). - -3. THE TRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTICS.--In a strict sense, the reason is -distinguished from the understanding. As the understanding has its -categories, the reason has its ideas; as the understanding forms -fundamental maxims from conceptions, the reason forms principles from -ideas, in which the maxims of the understanding have their highest -confirmation. The peculiar work of the reason is, in general, to find -the unconditioned for the conditioned knowledge of the understanding, -and to unify it. Hence the reason is the faculty of the unconditioned, -or of principles; but since it has no immediate reference to objects, -but only to the understanding and its judgments, its activity must -remain an immanent one. If it would take the highest unity of the reason -not simply in a transcendental sense, but exalt it to an actual object -of knowledge, then it would become transcendent in that it applied the -conceptions of the understanding to the knowledge of the unconditioned. -From this transcending and false use of the categories, arises the -transcendental appearance which decoys us beyond experience, by the -delusive pretext of widening the domain of the pure understanding. It is -the problem of the transcendental logic to discover this transcendental -appearance. - -The speculative ideas of the reason, derived from the three kinds of -logical conclusion, the categorical, the hypothetical, and the -disjunctive, are threefold. - -(1.) The psychological idea, the idea of the soul, as a thinking -substance (the object hitherto of rational psychology). - -(2.) The cosmological idea, the idea of the world as including all -phenomena (the object hitherto of cosmology). - -(3.) The theological idea, the idea of God as the highest condition of -the possibility of all things (the object hitherto of rational -theology). - -But with these ideas, in which the reason attempts to apply the -categories of the understanding to the unconditioned, the reason becomes -unavoidably entangled in a semblance and an illusion. This -transcendental semblance, or this optical illusion of the reason, -exhibits itself differently in each of the different ideas. With the -psychological ideas the reason perpetrates a simple paralogism, while -with the cosmological it finds itself driven to contradictory -affirmations or antinomies, and, with the theological, it wanders about -in an empty ideal. - -(1.) _The psychological ideas, or the paralogisms of the pure reason._ - -Kant has attempted, under this rubric, to overthrow all rational -psychology as this had been previously apprehended. Rational psychology -has considered the soul as a thing called by that name with the -attribute of immateriality, as a simple substance with the attribute of -incorruptibility, as a numerically identical, intellectual substance -with the predicate of personality, as an unextended and thinking being -with the predicate of immortality. All these principles of rational -psychology, says Kant, are surreptitious; they are all derived from the -one premise, "I think;" but this premise is neither intuition nor -conception, but a simple consciousness, an act of the mind which -attends, connects, and bears in itself all representations and -conceptions. This thinking is now falsely taken as a real thing; the -being of the Ego as object is connected with the Ego as subject, and -that which is affirmed analytically of the latter is predicated -synthetically of the former. But in order to treat the Ego also as -object, and to be able to apply to it categories, it must be given -empirically, in an intuition, which is not the case. From all this it -follows that the proofs for immortality rest upon false conclusions. I -can, indeed, separate my pure thinking _ideally_ from the body; but -obviously, it does not follow from this that my thinking can exist -_really_ when separate from the body. The result which Kant derives from -his critick of rational psychology is this, viz., there is no rational -psychology as a _doctrine_ which can furnish us with any addition to our -self-knowledge, but only as a _discipline_, which places impassable -limits to the speculative reason in this field, in order that it may -neither throw itself into the bosom of a soulless materialism, nor lose -itself in the delusion of a groundless spiritualism. In this respect -rational psychology would rather remind us, that this refusal of our -reason to give a satisfactory answer to the questions which stretch -beyond this life, should be regarded as an intimation of the reason for -us to leave this fruitless and superfluous speculation, and apply our -self-knowledge to some fruitful and practical use. - -(2.) _The Antinomies of Cosmology._ - -The cosmological ideas cannot be fully attained without the aid of the -categories. (1) So far as the quantity of the world is concerned, space -and time are the original _quanta_ of all intuition. In a quantitative -respect, therefore, the cosmological idea must hold fast to something -concerning the totality of the times and spaces of the world. (2) In -respect of quality, the divisibility of matter must be regarded. (3) In -respect of relation, the complete series of causes must be sought for -the existing effects in the world. (4) In respect of modality, the -accidental according to its conditions, or the complete dependence of -the accidental in the phenomenon must be conceived. When, now, the -reason attempts to establish determinations respecting these problems, -it finds itself at once entangled in a contradiction with itself. -Directly contrary affirmations can be made with equal validity in -reference to each of these four points. We can show, upon grounds -equally valid, (1) the _thesis_, the world has a beginning in time and -limits in space; and the _antithesis_, the world has neither beginning -in time nor limit in space. (2) The thesis: every compound substance in -the world consists of simple parts, and there exists nothing else than -the simple and that which it composes; and the antithesis: no compound -thing consists of simple parts, and there exists nothing simple in the -world. (3) The thesis: causality according to the laws of nature, is not -the only one from which the phenomena of the world may be deduced, but -these may be explained through a causality in freedom; and the -antithesis: there is no freedom, but every thing in the world happens -only according to natural laws. Lastly, (4) the thesis: something -belongs to the world either as its part or its cause, which is an -absolutely necessary being; and the antithesis: there exists no -absolutely necessary being as cause of the world, either in the world or -without it. From this dialectic conflict of the cosmological ideas, -there follows at once the worthlessness of the whole struggle. - -(3.) _The ideal of the pure Reason or the idea of God._ - -Kant shows at first how the reason comes to the idea of a most real -being, and then turns himself against the efforts of previous -metaphysics to prove its valid existence. His critick of the arguments -employed to prove the existence of a God, is essentially the following. - -(_a._) _The Ontological proof._--The argument here is as follows: it is -possible that there is a most real being; now existence is implied in -the conception of all reality, and hence, existence necessarily belongs -to the conception of the most real being. But, answers Kant, existence -is not at all a reality, or real predicate which can be added to the -conception of a thing, but it is the position of a thing with all its -properties. A thing, however, may lose its existence, and still be -deprived of none of its properties. Hence if it have any property, it -does not at all follow that it possesses existence. Being is nothing but -the logical copula, which, does not in the least enlarge the content of -the subject. A hundred actual dollars, _e. g._ contain no more than a -hundred possible ones; there is only a difference between them in -reference to my own wealth. Thus the most real being may with perfect -propriety be conceived of as the most real, while at the same time it -should only be conceived of as possible, and not as actual. It was -therefore wholly unnatural, and a simple play of school wit, to take an -idea which had been arbitrarily formed, and deduce from it the existence -of its corresponding object. Any effort and toil which might be spent -upon this famous proof is thus only thrown away, and a man would become -no richer in knowledge out of simple ideas than a merchant would -increase his property by adding a number of ciphers to the balance of -his accounts. - -(_b._) _The Cosmological proof._--This, like the ontological, infers the -existence of an absolute being from the necessity of existence. If any -thing exist there must also exist an absolutely necessary being as its -cause. But now there exists at least I myself, and there must hence also -exist an absolutely necessary being as my cause. The last cosmological -antinomy is here brought in to criticise the argument at this stage. The -conclusion is erroneous, because from the phenomenal and the accidental -a necessary being above experience is inferred. Moreover, if we allow -the conclusion to be valid, it is still no God which it gives us. Hence -the farther inference is made: that being can alone be necessary which -includes all reality within itself. If now this proposition should be -reversed, and the affirmation made that that being which includes all -reality is absolutely necessary, then have we again the ontological -proof, and the cosmological falls with this. In the cosmological proof, -the reason uses the trick of bringing forth as a new argument an old one -with a changed dress, that it might seem to have the power of summoning -two witnesses. - -(_c._) _The Physico-theological proof._--If thus neither conception nor -experience can furnish a proof for the divine existence, there still -remains a third attempt, viz., to start from a determinate experience, -and endeavor to see whether the existence of a supreme being can not be -inferred from the arrangement and condition of things in the world. Such -is the physico-theological proof, which starts from the evidences of -design in nature, and directs its argument as follows: there is -evidently design in the universe; this is extraneous to the things of -the world, and adheres to them only contingently; there exists therefore -a necessary cause of this design which works with wisdom and -intelligence; this necessary cause must be the most real being; the most -real being has therefore necessary existence.--To this Kant answers: The -physico-theological proof is the oldest, clearest, and most conformable -to the common reason. But it is not demonstration (apodictic). It -infers, from the form of the world, a proportionate and sufficient cause -of this form; but in this way we only attain an originator of the form -of the world, and not an originator of its matter, a world-builder, and -not a world-creator. To help out with this difficulty the cosmological -proof is brought in, and the originator of the form becomes conceived as -the necessary being lying at the ground of the content. Thus we have an -absolute being whose perfection corresponds to that of the world. But in -the world there is no absolute perfection; we have therefore only a very -perfect being; to get the most perfect, we must revert again to the -ontological proof. Thus the teleological proof rests upon the -cosmological, while this in turn has its basis in the ontological, and -from this circle the metaphysical modes of proof cannot escape. - -From these considerations, it would follow that the ideal of a supreme -being is nothing other than a regulative principle of the reason, by -which it looks upon every connection in the world _as if_ it sprang from -an all-sufficient and necessary cause; in order that, in explaining this -connection, it may establish the rule of a systematic and necessary -unity, it being also true that in this process the reason through a -transcendental subreption cannot avoid representing to itself this -formal principle as constitutive, and this unity as personal. But in -truth this supreme being remains for the simply speculative use of the -reason, a mere but faultless ideal, a conception which is the summit and -the crown of the whole human knowledge, whose objective reality, though -it cannot be proved with apodictic certainty, can just as little be -disproved. - -With this critick of the ideas of the reason there is still another -question. If these ideas have no objective significance, why are they -found within us? Since they are necessary, they will doubtless have some -good purpose to subserve. What this purpose is, has already been -indicated in speaking of the theological idea. Though not constitutive, -yet are they regulative principles. We cannot better order the faculties -of our soul, than by acting "_as if_" there were a soul. The -cosmological idea leads us to consider the world "_as if_" the series of -causes were infinite, without, however, excluding an intelligent cause. -The theological idea enables us to look upon the world in all its -complexity, as a regulated unity. Thus, while these ideas of the reason -are not constitutive principles, by means of which our knowledge could -be widened beyond experience, they are regulative principles, by means -of which our experience may be ordered, and brought under certain -hypothetical unities. These three ideas, therefore, the psychological, -the cosmological, and the theological, do not form an organon for the -discovery of truth, but only a canon for the simplification and -systematizing of our experiences. - -Besides their regulative significance, these ideas of the reason have -also a practical importance. There is a sufficient certainty, not -objective, but subjective, which is especially of a practical nature, -and is called belief or confidence. If the freedom of the will, the -immortality of the soul, and the existence of a God, are three cardinal -principles, which, though not in any way contributing to our knowledge, -are yet pressed continually upon us by the reason, this difficulty is -removed in the practical field where these ideas have their peculiar -significance for the moral confidence. This confidence is not logical, -but moral certainty. Since it rests wholly upon subjective grounds, upon -the moral character, I cannot say it is morally certain that there is a -God, but only I am morally certain, &c. That is, the belief in a God and -in another world is so interwoven with my moral character, that I am in -just as much danger of losing this character as of being deprived of -this belief. We are thus brought to the basis of the PRACTICAL REASON. - -II. CRITICK OF THE PRACTICAL REASON.--With the Critick of the Practical -Reason, we enter a wholly different world, where the reason richly -recovers that of which it was deprived in the theoretical province. The -essential problem of the Critick of the Practical Reason is almost -diametrically different from that of the critick of the theoretical -reason. The object of investigation in the critick of the speculative -reason, was,--how can the pure reason know objects apriori; in the -practical reason it is,--how can the pure reason determine apriori the -will in respect of objects. The critick of the speculative reason -inquired after the cognizableness of objects apriori: the practical -reason has nothing to do with the cognizableness of objects, but only -with the determination of the will. Hence, in the latter critick, we -have an order directly the reverse of that which we find in the former. -As the original determinations of our theoretical knowledge are -intuitions, so the original determinations of our will are principles -and conceptions. The critick of the practical reason must, therefore, -start from moral principles, and only after these are firmly fixed, may -we inquire concerning the relation in which the practical reason stands -to the sensory. - -Freedom, says Kant, is given to us apriori as an inner fact, it is a -fact of the inner experience. While, therefore, the reason in the -theoretical field had only a negative result, because, when it would -attain to a true thing in itself it became transcendent, yet now in the -practical province it becomes positive through the idea of freedom, -because with the fact of freedom we have no need to go out beyond -ourselves, but possess a principle immanent to the reason. But why then -give a critick of practical reason? In order to determine the relation -of freedom to the sensory. Since the free will works through its acts -upon the sensory, there must be a point of contact between the two. This -is found in the sensuous motives of the will, which exist implanted in -it by nature, in the impulses and inclinations which, as the principle -of the empiric in opposition to the free or pure will, bear in -themselves the character of a want of freedom. Since, then, freedom -cannot be touched, a critick of the practical reason can only relate to -these empirical motives, in the sense of divesting these from the claim -of being exclusively the motives by which the will is determined. While, -therefore, in the theoretical reason the empirical element was immanent, -and the intelligible transcendent, the reverse is the case in the -practical reason, since here the empirical is transcendent, and the -intelligible immanent. It is the object of the Analytic to show the -relation of these two momenta of the will, and the highest moral -principle which springs therefrom, while it belongs to the Dialectic to -solve the antinomies which result from the contradiction of the pure and -empiric will. - -(1.) _The Analytic._--Freedom, as the one constituent element which shows -itself in the activity of our will, is the simple _form_ of our actions. -The universal law binding the will, is that it should determine itself -purely from itself, independently of every external incitement. This -capacity of self-lawgiving, or self-determining, Kant calls the -_autonomy of the will_. The free autonomic will says to man: thou -oughtest! and since this moral ought commands to an unconditioned -obedience, the moral imperative is a _categorical imperative_. What is -it now which is categorically commanded by the practical reason? To -answer this question, we must first consider the empirical will, _i. e._ -the nature-side of man. - -The empirical, as the other constituent element of our will, first -produces a definite deed when it has filled the empty _form_ of action -with the _matter_ of action. The matter of the will is furnished by the -sensory in the desire of pleasure and the dread of pain. Since this -second principle of our actions does not find its seat in the freedom of -the will as the higher faculty of desire, but in the sensory, as the -lower faculty of desire, and a foreign law is thus laid upon the -will,--Kant calls it, in opposition to the autonomy of the reason, the -_heteronomy of the will_. - -The categorical imperative is the necessary law of freedom binding upon -all men, and is distinguished from material motives, in that the latter -have no fixed character. For men are at variance in respect of pleasure -and pain, since that which is disagreeable to one may seem pleasant to -another, and if they ever agree, this is simply accidental. -Consequently, these material motives can never act the part of laws -binding upon every being, but each subject may find his end in a -different motive. Such rules of acting, Kant calls _maxims_ of the will. -He also censures those moralists who have exalted such maxims as -universal principles of morality. - -Nevertheless, these maxims, though not the highest principles of -morality, are yet necessary to the autonomy of the will, because they -alone furnish for it a content. It is only by uniting the two sides, -that we gain the true principle of morality. To this end the maxims of -acting must be freed from their limitation, and widened to the form of -universal laws of the reason. Only those maxims should be chosen as -motives of action which are capable of becoming universal laws of the -reason. _The highest principle of morality_ will therefore be this: act -so that the maxims of thy will can at the same time be valid as the -principle of a universal lawgiving, _i.e._ that no contradiction shall -arise in the attempt to conceive the maxims of thy acting as a law -universally obeyed. Through this formal moral principle all material -moral principles which can only be of a heteronomic nature, are -excluded. - -The question next arises--what impels the will to act conformably to this -highest moral law? Kant answers: the moral law itself, apprehended and -revered, must be the only moving spring of the human will. If an act -which in itself might be conformable to the moral law, be done only -through some impulse to happiness arising simply from an inclination of -the sense, if it be not done purely for the sake of the law, then have -we simply _legality_ and not _morality_. That which is included in every -inclination of the sense is self-love and self-conceit, and of these the -former is restricted by the moral law, and the latter wholly stricken -down. But that which strikes down our self-conceit and humbles us must -appear to us in the highest degree worthy of esteem. But this is done by -the moral law. Consequently the positive feeling which we shall cherish -in respect of the moral law will be reverence. This reverence, though a -feeling, is neither sensuous nor pathological, for it stands opposed to -these; but is rather an intellectual feeling, since it arises from the -notion of the practical law of the reason. On the one side as -subordination to law, the reverence includes pain; on the other side, -since the coercion can only be exercised through the proper reason, it -includes pleasure. Reverence is the single sensation befitting man in -reference to the moral law. Man, as creature of sense, cannot rest on -any inner inclination to the moral law, for he has ever inclinations -within him which resist the law; love to the law can only be considered -as something ideal.--Thus the moral purism of Kant, or his effort to -separate every impulse of the sense from the motives to action, merges -into rigorism, or the dark view that duty can never be done except with -resistance. A similar exaggeration belongs to the well-known epigram of -Schiller, who answers the following scruple of conscience-- - - The friends whom I love, I gladly would serve, - But to this inclination incites me; - And so I am forced from virtue to swerve - Since my act, through affection, delights me-- - -with the following decision: - - The friends whom thou lov'st, thou must first seek to scorn, - For to no other way can I guide thee: - 'Tis alone with disgust thou canst rightly perform - The acts to which duty would lead thee. - -(2.) _The Dialectic._--The pure reason has always its dialectics, since -it belongs to the nature of the reason to demand the unconditioned for -the given conditioned. Hence also the practical reason seeks an -unconditioned highest good for that conditioned good after which man -strives. What is this highest good? If we understand by the highest good -the fundamental condition of all other goods, then it is virtue. But -virtue is not the perfect good, since the finite reason as sensitive -stands in need also of happiness. Hence the highest good is only perfect -when the highest happiness is joined to the highest virtue. The question -now arises: what is the relation of these two elements of the highest -good to each other? Are they analytically or synthetically connected -together? The former would be affirmed by most of the ancients, -especially by the Greek moral philosophers. We might allow with the -Stoics, that happiness is contained as an accidental element in virtue, -or, with the Epicureans, that virtue is contained as an accidental -element in happiness. The Stoics said: to be conscious of one's virtue -is happiness; the Epicureans said: to be conscious of the maxims leading -one to happiness is virtue. But, says Kant, an analytic connection -between these two conceptions is not possible, since they are wholly -different in kind. Consequently there can be between them only a -synthetic unity, and this unity more closely scanned is seen to be a -causal one, so that the one element is cause, and the other effect. Such -a relation must be regarded as its highest good by the practical reason, -whose thesis must therefore be: virtue and happiness must be bound -together in a correspondent degree as cause and effect. But this thesis -is all thwarted by the actual fact. Neither of the two is the direct -cause of the other. Neither is the striving after happiness a moving -spring to virtue, nor is virtue the efficient cause of happiness. Hence -the antithesis: virtue and happiness do not necessarily correspond, and -are not universally connected as cause and effect. The critical solution -of this antinomy Kant finds in distinguishing between the sensible and -the intelligible world. In the world of sense, virtue and happiness do -not, it is true, correspond; but the reason as _noumenon_ is also a -citizen of a supersensible world, where the counter-strife between -virtue and happiness has no place. In this supersensible world virtue is -always adequate to happiness, and when man passes over into this he may -look for the actualization of the highest good. But the highest good -has, as already remarked, two elements, (1) highest virtue, (2) highest -happiness. The actualization demanded for the first of these elements -postulates the _immortality of the soul_, and for the second, _the -existence of God_. - -(_a._) To the highest good belongs in the first place perfect virtue or -holiness. But no creature of sense can be holy: reason united to sense -can only approximate holiness as an ideal in an endless progression. But -such an endless progress is only possible in an endless continuance of -personal existence. If, therefore, the highest good shall ever be -actualized, the immortality of the soul must be presupposed. - -(_b._) To the highest good belongs, in the second place, perfect -happiness. Happiness is that condition of a rational creature in the -world, to whom every thing goes according to his desire and will. This -can only occur when all nature is in accord with his ends. But this is -not the case; as acting beings we are not the cause of nature, and there -is not the slightest ground in the moral law for connecting morality and -happiness. Notwithstanding this, we _ought_ to endeavor to secure the -highest good. It must therefore be possible. There is thus postulated -the necessary connection of these two elements, _i. e._ the existence of -a cause of nature distinct from nature, and which contains the ground of -this connection. There must be a being as the common cause of the -natural and moral world, a being who knows our characters of -intelligence, and who, according to this intelligence imparts to us -happiness. Such a being is God. - -Thus from the practical reason there issue the ideas of immortality and -of God, as we have already seen to be the case with the idea of freedom. -The reality of the idea of freedom is derived from the possibility of a -moral law; that of the idea of immortality is borrowed from the -possibility of a perfect virtue; that of the idea of a God follows from -the necessary demand of a perfect happiness. These three ideas, -therefore, which the speculative reason has treated as problems that -could not be solved, gain a firm basis in the province of the practical -reason. Still they are not yet theoretical dogmas, but as Kant calls -them practical postulates, necessary premises of moral action. My -theoretical knowledge is not enlarged by them: I only know now that -there are objects corresponding to these ideas, but of these objects I -can know no more. Of God, for instance, we possess and know no more than -this very conception; and if we should attempt to establish the theory -of the supersensible grounded upon such categories, this would be to -make theology like a magic lantern, with its phantasmagorical -representations. Yet has the practical reason acquired for us a -certainty respecting the objective reality of these ideas, which the -theoretical reason had been obliged to leave undecided, and in this -respect the practical reason has the primacy. This relation of the two -faculties of knowledge is wisely established in relation to the destiny -of men. Since the ideas of God and immortality are theoretically obscure -to us, they do not defile our moral motives by fear and hope, but leave -us free space to act through reverence for the moral law. - -Thus far Kant's Critick of the Practical Reason. In connection with this -we may here mention his _views of religion_ as they appear in his -treatise upon "_Religion within the Bounds of Pure Reason_." The chief -idea of this treatise is the referring of religion to morality. Between -morality and religion there may be the twofold relation, that either -morality is founded upon religion, or else religion upon morality. If -the first relation were real, it would give us fear and hope as -principles of moral action; but this cannot be, and we are therefore -left alone to the second. Morality leads necessarily to religion, -because the highest good is a necessary ideal of the reason, and this -can only be realized through a God; but in no way may religion first -incite us to virtue, for the idea of God may never become a moral -motive. Religion, according to Kant, is the recognition of all our -duties as divine commands. It is revealed religion when I find in it the -divine command, and thus learn my duty; it is natural religion when I -find in it my duty, and thus learn the divine command. The Church is an -ethical community, which has for its end the fulfilment and the most -perfect exhibition of moral commands,--a union of those who with united -energies purpose to resist evil and advance morality. The Church, in so -far as it is no object of a possible experience, is called the invisible -Church, which, as such, is a simple idea of the union of all the -righteous under the divine moral government of the world. The visible -Church, on the other hand, is that which presents the kingdom of God -upon earth, so far as this can be attained through men. The requisites, -and hence also the characteristics of the true visible Church (which are -divided according to the table of the categories since this Church is -given in experience) are the following: (_a_) In respect of _quantity_ -the Church must be total or _universal_; and though it may be divided in -accidental opinions, yet must it be instituted upon such principles as -will necessarily lead to a universal union in one single church. (_b_) -The _quality_ of the true visible Church is _purity_, as a union under -no other than moral motives, since it is at the same time purified from -the stupidness of superstition and the madness of fanaticism. (_c_) The -_relation_ of the members of the Church to each other rests upon the -principle of freedom. The Church is, therefore, a _free state_, neither -a hierarchy nor a democracy, but a voluntary, universal, and enduring -union of heart. (_d_) In respect of _modality_ the Church demands that -its constitution should not be changed. The laws themselves may not -change, though one may reserve to himself the privilege of changing some -accidental arrangements which relate simply to the administration.--That -alone which can establish a universal Church is the moral faith of the -reason, for this alone can be shared by the convictions of every man. -But, because of the peculiar weakness of human nature, we can never -reckon enough on this pure faith to build a Church on it alone, for men -are not easily convinced that the striving after virtue and an -irreproachable life is every thing which God demands: they always -suppose that they must offer to God a special service prescribed by -tradition, in which it only comes to this--that he is served. - -To establish a Church, we must therefore have a statutory faith -historically grounded upon facts. This is the so-called faith of the -Church, In every Church there are therefore two elements--the purely -moral, or the faith of reason, and the historico-statutory, or the faith -of the Church. It depends now upon the relation of the two elements -whether a Church shall have any worth or not. The statutory element -should ever be only the vehicle of the moral. Just so soon as this -element becomes in itself an independent end, claiming an independent -validity, will the Church become corrupt and irrational, and whenever -the Church passes over to the pure faith of reason, does it approximate -to the kingdom of God. Upon this principle we may distinguish the true -from the spurious service of the kingdom of God, religion from -priestcraft. A dogma has worth alone in so far as it has a moral -content. The apostle Paul himself would with difficulty have given -credit to the dicta of the faith of the Church without this moral faith. -From the doctrine of the Trinity, _e. g._ taken literally, nothing -actually practical can be derived. Whether we have to reverence in the -Godhead three persons or ten makes no difference, if in both cases we -have the same rules for our conduct of life. The Bible also, with its -interpretation, must be considered in a moral point of view. The records -of revelation must be interpreted in a sense which will harmonize with -the universal rules of the religion of reason. Reason is in religious -things the highest interpreter of the Bible. This interpretation in -reference to some texts may seem forced, yet it must be preferred to any -such literal interpretation as would contain nothing for morality, or -perhaps go against every moral motive. That such a moral signification -may always be found without ever entirely repudiating the literal sense, -results from the fact that the foundation for a moral religion lay -originally in the human reason. We need only to divest the -representations of the Bible of their mythical dress (an attempt which -Kant has himself made, by moral explanation of some of the weightiest -doctrines), in order to attain a rational sense which shall be -universally valid. The historical element of the sacred books is in -itself of no account. The maturer the reason becomes, the more it can -hold fast for itself the moral sense, so much the more unnecessary will -be the statutory institutions of the faith of the Church. The transition -of the faith of the Church to the pure faith of reason is the -approximation to the kingdom of God, to which, however, we can only -approach nearer and nearer in an infinite progress. The actual -realization of the kingdom of God is the end of the world, the cessation -of history. - -III. CRITICK OF THE FACULTY OF JUDGMENT.--The conception of this science -Kant gives in the following manner. The two faculties of the human mind -hitherto considered were the faculty of knowledge and that of desire. It -was proved in the Critick of pure Reason, that the understanding only as -faculty of knowledge included constitutive principles apriori; and it -was shown in the Critick of Practical Reason, that the reason possesses -constitutive principles apriori, simply in reference to the faculty of -desire. Whether now the _faculty of judgment_, as the middle link -between understanding and reason, can take its object--the feeling of -pleasure and pain as the middle link between the faculty of knowledge -and that of desire--and furnish it apriori with principles which shall be -for themselves constitutive and not simply regulative: this is the point -upon which the Critick of the Faculty of Judgment has to turn. - -The faculty of judgment is the middle link between the understanding as -the faculty of conceptions, and the reason as the faculty of principles. -In this position it has the following functions: The speculative reason -had taught us to consider the world only according to natural laws; the -practical reason had inferred for us a moral world, in which every thing -is determined through freedom. There was thus a gulf between the kingdom -of nature and that of freedom, which could not be passed unless the -faculty of judgment should furnish a conception which should unite the -two sides. That it is entitled to do this lies in the very conception of -the faculty of judgment. Since it is the faculty of conceiving the -particular as contained under the universal, it thus refers the -empirical manifoldness of nature to a supersensible, transcendental -principle, which embraces in itself the ground for the unity of the -manifold. The object of the faculty of judgment is, therefore, the -conception of _design_ in nature; for the evidence of this points to -that supersensible unity which contains the ground for the actuality of -an object. And since all design and every actualization of an end is -connected with pleasure, we may farther explain the faculty of judgment -by saying, that it contains the laws for the feeling of pleasure and -pain. - -The evidence of design in nature can be represented either subjectively -or objectively. In the first case I perceive pleasure and pain, -immediately through the representation of an object, before I have -formed a conception of it; my delight, in this instance, can only be -referred to a designed harmony of relation, between the form of an -object, and my faculty of beholding. The faculty of judgment viewed thus -subjectively, is called the _æsthetic faculty_. In the second case, I -form to myself at the outset, a conception of the object, and then judge -whether the form of the object corresponds to this conception. In order -to find a flower that is beautiful to my beholding, I do not need to -have a conception of the flower; but, if I would see a design in it, -then a conception is necessary. The faculty of judgment, viewed as -capacity to judge of these objective designs, is called the -_teleological faculty_. - -1. CRITICK OF THE ÆSTHETIC FACULTY OF JUDGMENT. (1.) _Analytic._--The -analytic of the æsthetic faculty of judgment is divided into two parts, -the analytic of the _beautiful_, and the analytic of the _sublime_. - -In order to discover what is required in naming an object _beautiful_, -we must analyze the judgment of taste, as the faculty for deciding upon -the beautiful. (_a_) In respect of quality, the beautiful is the object -of a pure, uninterested satisfaction. This disinterestedness enables us -to distinguish between the satisfaction in the beautiful, and the -satisfaction in the agreeable and the good. In the agreeable and the -good I am interested; my satisfaction in the agreeable is connected with -a sensation of desire; my satisfaction in the good is, at the same time, -a motive for my will to actualize it. My satisfaction in the beautiful -alone is without interest. (_b_) In respect of quantity, the beautiful -is that which universally pleases. In respect of the agreeable, every -one decides that his satisfaction in it is only a personal one; but if -any one should affirm of a picture, that it is beautiful, he would -expect that not only he, but every other one, would also find it so. -Nevertheless, this judgment of the taste does not arise from -conceptions; its universal validity is therefore purely subjective. I do -not judge that all the objects of a species are beautiful, but only that -a certain specific object will appear beautiful to every beholder. All -the judgments of taste are individual judgments. (_c_) In respect of -relation, that is beautiful in which we find the form of design, without -representing to ourselves any specific design. (_d_) In respect of -modality, that is beautiful which is recognized without a conception, as -the object of a necessary satisfaction. Of every representation, it is -at least possible, that it may awaken pleasure. The representation of -the agreeable awakens actual pleasure. The representation of the -beautiful, on the other hand, awakens pleasure necessarily. The -necessity which is conceived in an æsthetic judgment, is a necessity for -determining every thing by a judgment, which can be viewed as an example -of a universal rule, though the rule itself cannot be stated. The -subjective principle which lies at the basis of the judgment of taste, -is therefore a common sense, which determines what is pleasing, and what -displeasing, only through feeling, and not through conception. - -The _sublime_ is that which is absolutely, or beyond all comparison, -great, compared with which every thing else is small. But now in nature -there is nothing which has no greater. The absolutely great is only the -infinite, and the infinite is only to be met with in ourselves, as idea. -The sublime, therefore, is not properly found in nature, but is only -carried over to nature from our own minds. We call that sublime in -nature, which awakens within us the idea of the infinite. As in the -beautiful there is prominent reference to quality, so, in the sublime, -the most important element of all, is quantity; and this quantity is -either greatness of extension (the mathematically sublime), or greatness -of power (the dynamically sublime). In the sublime there is a greater -satisfaction in the formless, than in the form. The sublime excites a -vigorous movement of the heart, and awakens pleasure only through pain, -_i. e._ through the feeling that the energies of life are for the moment -restrained. The satisfaction in the sublime is hence not so much a -positive pleasure, but rather an amazement and awe, which may be called -a negative pleasure. The elements for an æsthetic judgment of the -sublime are the same as in the feeling of the beautiful. (_a_) In -respect of quantity, that is sublime which is absolutely great, in -comparison with which every thing else is small. The æsthetic estimate -of greatness does not lie, however, in numeration, but in the simple -intuition of the subject. The greatness of an object of nature, which -the imagination attempts in vain to comprehend, leads to a supersensible -substratum, which is great beyond all the measures of the sense, and -which has reference properly to the feeling of the sublime. It is not -the object itself, as the surging sea, which is sublime, but rather the -subject's frame of mind, in the estimation of this object. (_b_) In -respect of quality, the sublime does not awaken pure pleasure, like the -beautiful, but first pain, and through this, pleasure. The feeling of -the insufficiency of our imagination, in the æsthetic estimate of -greatness, gives rise to pain; but, on the other side, the consciousness -of our independent reason, for which the faculty of imagination is -inadequate, awakens pleasure. In this respect, therefore, that is -sublime which immediately pleases us, through its opposition to the -interest of the sense. (_c_) In respect of relation, the sublime suffers -nature to appear as a power, indeed, but in reference to which, we have -the consciousness of superiority. (_d_) In respect of modality, the -judgments concerning the sublime are as necessarily valid, as those for -the beautiful; only with this difference, that our judgment of the -sublime finds an entrance to some minds, with greater difficulty than -our judgment of the beautiful, since to perceive the sublime, culture, -and developed moral ideas, are necessary. - -(2.) _Dialectic._--A dialectic of the æsthetic faculty of judgment, like -every dialectic, is only possible where we can meet with judgments which -lay claim to universality apriori. For dialectics consists in the -opposition of such judgments. The antinomy of the principles of taste -rests upon the two opposite elements of the judgment of taste, that it -is purely subjective, and at the same time, lays claim to universal -validity. Hence, the two common-place sayings: "there is no disputing -about taste," and "there is a contest of taste." From these, we have the -following antinomy. (_a_) Thesis: the judgment of taste cannot be -grounded on conception, else might we dispute it. (_b_) Antithesis: the -judgment of taste must be grounded on conception, else, notwithstanding -its diversity, there could be no contest respecting it.--This antinomy, -says Kant, is, however, only an apparent one, and disappears as soon as -the two propositions are more accurately apprehended. The thesis should -be: the judgment of taste is not grounded upon a definite conception, -and is not strictly demonstrable; the antithesis should be: this -judgment is grounded upon a conception, though an indefinite one, viz., -upon the conception of a supersensible substratum for the phenomenal. -Thus apprehended, there is no longer any contradiction between the two -propositions. - -In the conclusion of the æsthetic faculty of judgment, we can now answer -the question, whether the fitness of things to our faculty of judgment -(their beauty and sublimity), lies in the things themselves, or in us? -The æsthetic realism claims that the supreme cause of nature designed to -produce things which should affect our imagination, as beautiful and -sublime, and the organic forms of nature strongly support this view. But -on the other band, nature exhibits even in her merely mechanical forms, -such a tendency to the beautiful, that we might believe that she could -produce also the most beautiful organic forms through mechanism alone; -and that thus the design would lie not in nature, but in our soul. This -is the standpoint of idealism, upon which it becomes explicable how we -can determine any thing apriori concerning beauty and sublimity. But the -highest view of the æsthetical, is to use it as a symbol of the moral -good. Thus Kant makes the theory of taste, like religion, to be a -corollary of morality. - -2. CRITICK OF THE TELEOLOGICAL FACULTY OF JUDGMENT.--In the foregoing, we -have considered the subjective æsthetical design in the objects of -nature. But the objects of nature have also a relation of design to each -other. The teleological faculty of judgment has also to consider this -faculty of design. - -(1.) _Analytic of the Teleological Faculty of Judgment._--The analytic -has to determine the kinds of objective design. Objective, material -design, is of two kinds, external, and internal. The external design is -only relative, since it simply indicates a usefulness of one thing for -another. Sand, for instance, which borders the sea shore, is of use in -bearing pine forests. In order that animals can live upon the earth, the -earth must produce nourishment for them, etc. These examples of external -design, show that here the design never belongs to the means in itself, -but only accidentally. We should never get a conception of the sand by -saying that it is a means for pine forests; it is conceivable for -itself, without any reference to the conception of design. The earth -does not produce nourishment, because it is necessary that men should -dwell upon it. In brief, this external or relative design may be -conceived from the mechanism of nature alone. Not so the inner design of -nature, which shows itself prominently in the organic products of -nature. In an organic product of nature, every one of its parts is end, -and every one, means or instrument. In the process of generation, the -natural product appears as species, in growth it appears as individual, -and in the process of complete formation, every part of the individual -shows itself. This natural organism cannot be explained from mechanical -causes, but only through final causes, or teleologically. - -(2.) _Dialectic._--The dialectic of the teleological faculty of judgment, -has to adjust this opposition between this mechanism of nature and -teleology. On the one side we have the thesis: every production of -material things must be judged as possible, according to simple -mechanical laws. On the other side we have the antithesis: certain -products of material nature cannot be judged as possible, according to -simple mechanical laws, but demand the conception of design for their -explanation. If these two maxims are posited as constitutive (objective) -principles for the possibility of the objects themselves, then do they -contradict each other, but as simply regulative (subjective) principles -for the investigation of nature, they are not contradictory. Earlier -systems treated the conception of design in nature dogmatically, and -either affirmed or denied its essential existence in nature. But we, -convinced that teleology is only a regulative principle, have nothing to -do with the question whether an inner design belongs essentially to -nature or not, but we only affirm that our faculty of judgment must look -upon nature as designed. We envisage the conception of design in nature, -but leave it wholly undecided whether to another understanding, which -does not think discursively like ours, nature may not be understood, -without at all needing to bring in this conception of design. Our -understanding thinks discursively: it proceeds from the parts, and -comprehends the whole as the product of its parts; it cannot, therefore, -conceive the organic products of nature, where the whole is the ground -and the prius of the parts, except from the point of view of the -conception of design. If there were, on the other hand, an intuitive -understanding, which could know the particular and the parts as -co-determined in the universal and the whole; such an understanding -might conceive the whole of nature out of one principle, and would not -need the conception of end. - -If Kant had thoroughly carried out this conception of an intuitive -understanding as well as the conception of an immanent design in nature, -he would have overcome, in principle, the standpoint of subjective -idealism, which he made numerous attempts, in his critick of the faculty -of judgment, to break through; but these ideas he only propounded, and -left them to be positively carried out by his successors. - - - - -SECTION XXXIX. - -TRANSITION TO THE POST-KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY. - - -The Kantian philosophy soon gained in Germany an almost undisputed rule. -The imposing boldness of its standpoint, the novelty of its results, the -applicability of its principles, the moral severity of its view of the -world, and above all, the spirit of freedom and moral autonomy which -appeared in it, and which was so directly counter to the efforts of that -age, gained for it an assent as enthusiastic as it was extended. It -aroused among all cultivated classes a wider interest and participation -in philosophic pursuits, than had ever appeared in an equal degree among -any people. In a short time it had drawn to itself a very numerous -school: there were soon few German universities in which it had not had -its talented representatives, while in every department of science and -literature, especially in theology (it is the parent of theological -rationalism), and in natural rights, as also in belles-lettres -(_Schiller_), it began to exert its influence. Yet most of the writers -who appeared in the Kantian school, confined themselves to an exposition -or popular application of the doctrine as Kant had given it, and even -the most talented and independent among the defenders and improvers of -the critical philosophy (_e. g. Reinhold_, 1758-1823; _Bardili_, -1761-1808; _Schulze_, _Beck_, _Fries_, _Krug_, _Bouterweck_), only -attempted to give a firmer basis to the Kantian philosophy as they had -received it, to obviate some of its wants and deficiencies, and to carry -out the standpoint of transcendental idealism more purely and -consistently. Among those who carried out the Kantian philosophy, only -two men, _Fichte_ and _Herbart_, can be named, who made by their actual -advance an epoch in philosophy; and among its opposers (_e. g. Hamann_, -_Herder_), only one, _Jacobi_, is of philosophic importance. These three -philosophers are hence the first objects for us to consider. In order to -a more accurate development of their principles, we preface a brief and -general characteristic of their relation to the Kantian philosophy. - -1. Dogmatism had been critically annihilated by Kant; his Critick of -pure Reason had for its result the theoretical indemonstrableness of the -three ideas of the reason, God, freedom, and immortality. True, these -ideas which, from the standpoint of theoretical knowledge, had been -thrust out, Kant had introduced again as postulates of the practical -reason; but as postulates, as only practical premises, they possess no -theoretic certainty, and remain exposed to doubt. In order to do away -with this uncertainty, and this despairing of knowledge which had seemed -to be the end of the Kantian philosophy, _Jacobi_, a younger cotemporary -of Kant, placed himself upon the standpoint of the faith philosophy in -opposition to the standpoint of criticism. Though these highest ideas of -the reason, the eternal and the divine, cannot be reached and proved by -means of demonstration, yet is it the very essence of the divine that it -is indemonstrable and unattainable for the understanding. In order to be -certain of the highest, of that which lies beyond the understanding, -there is only one organ, viz., feeling. In feeling, therefore, in -immediate knowledge, in faith, Jacobi thought he had found that -certainty which Kant had sought in vain on the basis of discursive -thinking. - -2. While Jacobi stood in an antithetic relation to the Kantian -philosophy, _Fichte_ appears as its immediate consequence. Fichte -carried out to its consequence the Kantian dualism, according to which -the Ego, as theoretic, is subjected to the external world, while as -practical, it is its master, or, in other words, according to which the -Ego stands related to the objective world, now receptively and again -spontaneously. He allowed the reason to be exclusively practical, as -will alone, and spontaneity alone, and apprehended its theoretical and -receptive relation to the objective world as only a circumscribed -activity, as a limitation prescribed to itself by the reason. But for -the reason, so far as it is practical, there is nothing objective except -as it is produced. The will knows no being but only an ought. Hence the -objective being of truth is universally denied, and the thing which is -essentially unknown must fall away of itself as an empty shadow. "Every -thing which is, is the Ego," is the principle of the Fichtian system, -and represents at the same time the subjective idealism in its -consequence and completion. - -3. While the subjective idealism of Fichte was carried out in the -objective idealism of Schelling, and the absolute idealism of Hegel, -there arose cotemporaneously with these systems a third offshoot of the -Kantian criticism, viz., the philosophy of _Herbart_. It had its -subjective origin in the Kantian philosophy, but its objective and -historic connection with Kant is slight. It breaks up all historic -continuity, and holds an isolated position in the history of philosophy. -Its general basis is Kantian, in so far as it makes for its problem a -critical investigation of the subjective experience. We place it between -Fichte and Schelling. - - - - -SECTION XL. - -JACOBI. - - -Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi was born at Düsseldorf in 1743. His father -destined him for a merchant. After he had studied in Geneva and become -interested in philosophy, he entered his father's mercantile -establishment, but afterwards abandoned this business, having been made -chancellor of the exchequer and customs commissioner for Cleves and -Berg, and also privy councillor at Düsseldorf. In this city, or at his -neighboring estate of Pempelfort, he spent a great part of his life -devoted to philosophy and his friends. In the year 1804 he was called to -the newly-formed Academy of Sciences in Munich. In 1807 he was chosen -president of this institution, a post which he filled till his death in -1819. Jacobi had a rich intellect and an amiable character. Besides -being a philosopher, he was also a poet and citizen of the world; and -hence we find in his philosophizing an absence of strict logical -arrangement and precise expression of thought. His writings are no -systematic whole, but are occasional treatises written "rhapsodically -and in grasshopper gait," for the most part in the form of letters, -dialogues, and romances. "It was never my purpose," he says himself, "to -set up a system for the schools. My writings have sprung from my -innermost life, and were the result of that which had taken place within -me. In a certain sense I did not make them voluntarily, but they were -drawn out of me by a higher power irresistible to myself." This want of -an inner principle of classification and of a systematic arrangement, -renders a development of Jacobi's philosophy not easy. It may best be -represented under the following three points of view:--1. Jacobi's -polemic against mediate knowledge. 2. His principle of immediate -knowledge. 3. His relation to the cotemporaneous philosophy, especially -to the Kantian criticism. - -1. Spinoza was the negative starting point of Jacobi's philosophizing. -In his work "_On the Doctrine of Spinoza, in letters to Moses -Mendelssohn_" (1785), he directed public attention again to the almost -wholly forgotten philosophy of Spinoza. The correspondence originated -thus: Jacobi made the discovery that Lessing was a Spinozist, and -announces this to Mendelssohn. The latter will not believe it, and -thence grew the farther historical and philosophical examination. The -positive philosophic views which Jacobi exhibits in this treatise can be -reduced to the following three principles: (1) Spinozism is fatalism and -atheism. (2) Every path of philosophic demonstration leads to fatalism -and atheism. (3) In order that we may not fall into these, we must set a -limit to demonstrating, and recognize faith as the element of all -metaphysic knowledge. - -(1.) Spinozism is atheism, because, according to it, the cause of the -world is no person--is no being working for an end, and endowed with -reason and will--and hence is no God. It is fatalism, for, according to -it, the human will regards itself only falsely as free. - -(2.) This atheism and fatalism is, however, only the necessary -consequence of all strictly demonstrative philosophizing. To conceive a -thing, says Jacobi, is to refer a thing to its nearest cause; it is to -find a possible for an actual, the condition for a conditioned, the -mediation for an immediate. We conceive only that which we can explain -out of another. Hence our conceiving moves in a chain of conditioned -conditions, and this connection forms a mechanism of nature, in whose -investigation our understanding has its immeasurable field. However far -we may carry conception and demonstration, we must hold, in reference to -every object, to a still higher one which conditions it; where this -chain of the conditioned ceases, there do conception and demonstration -also cease; till we give up demonstrating we can reach no infinite. If -philosophy determines to apprehend the infinite with the finite -understanding, then must it bring down the divine to the finite; and -here is where every preceding philosophy has been entangled, while it is -obviously an absurd undertaking to attempt to discover the conditions of -the unconditioned, and make the absolutely necessary a possible, in -order that we may be able to construct it. A God who could be proved is -no God, for the ground of proof is ever above that which is to be -proved; the latter has its whole reality from the former. If the -existence of God should be proved, then God would be derived from a -ground which were before and above him. Hence the paradox of Jacobi; it -is for the interest of science that there be no God, no supernatural and -no extra or supramundane being. Only upon the condition that nature -alone is, and is therefore independent and all in all, can science hope -to gain its goal of perfection, and become, like its object itself, all -in all. Hence the result which Jacobi derives from the "Drama of the -history of philosophy" is this:--"There is no other philosophy than that -of Spinoza. He who considers all the works and acts of men to be the -effect of natural mechanism, and who believes that intelligence is but -an accompanying consciousness, which has only to act the part of a -looker-on, cannot be contended with and cannot be helped till we set him -free from his philosophy. No philosophical conclusion can reach him, for -what he denies cannot be philosophically proved, and what he proves -cannot be philosophically denied." Whence then is help to come? "The -understanding, taken by itself, is materialistic and irrational; it -denies spirit and God. The reason taken by itself is idealistic, and has -nothing to do with the understanding; it denies nature and makes itself -God." - -(3.) Hence we must seek another way of knowing the supersensible, which -is faith. Jacobi calls this flight from cognition through conception to -faith, the _salto mortale_ of the human reason. Every certainty through -a conception demands another certainty, but in faith we are led to an -immediate certainty which needs no ground nor proof, and which is in -fact absolutely exclusive of all proof. Such a confidence which does not -arise from arguments, is called faith. We know the sensible as well as -the supersensible only through faith. All human knowledge springs from -revelation and faith. - -These principles which Jacobi brought out in his letters concerning -Spinoza, did not fail to arouse a universal opposition in the German -philosophical world. It was charged upon him that he was an enemy of -reason, a preacher of blind faith, a despiser of science and of -philosophy, a fanatic and a papist. To rebut these attacks, and to -justify his standpoint, he wrote in 1787, a year and a half after the -first appearance of the work already named, his dialogue entitled -"_David Hume_, or _Faith, Idealism, and Realism_," in which he developes -more extensively and definitely his principle of faith or immediate -knowledge. - -2. Jacobi distinguished his faith at the outset from a blind credence in -authority. A blind faith is that which supports itself on a foreign -view, instead of on the grounds of reason. But this is not the case with -his faith, which rather rests upon the innermost necessity of the -subject itself. Still farther: his faith is not an arbitrary -imagination: we can imagine to ourselves every thing possible, but in -order to regard a thing as actual, there must be an inexplicable -necessity of our feeling, which we cannot otherwise name than faith. -Jacobi was not constant in his terminology, and hence did not always -express himself alike in respect of the relation in which faith stood to -the different sides of the human faculty of knowledge. In his earlier -terminology he placed faith (or as he also called it, the power of -faith), on the side of the sense or the receptivity, and let it stand -opposed to the understanding and the reason, taking these two terms as -equivalent expressions for the finite and immediate knowledge of -previous philosophy; afterwards he followed Kant, and, distinguishing -between the reason and the understanding, he called that reason which he -had previously named sense and faith. According to him now, the faith or -intuition of the reason is the organ for perceiving the supersensible. -As such, it stands opposed to the understanding. There must be a higher -faculty which can learn, in a way inconceivable to sense and the -understanding, that which is true in and above the phenomena. Over -against the explaining understanding stands the reason, or the natural -faith of the reason, which does not explain, but positively reveals and -unconditionally decides. As there is an intuition of the sense, so is -there a rational intuition through the reason, and a demonstration has -no more validity in respect of the latter than in respect of the former. -Jacobi justifies his use of the term, intuition of the reason, from the -want of any other suitable designation. Language has no other expression -to indicate the way in which that, which is unattainable to the sense, -becomes apprehended in the transcendental feeling. If any one affirms -that he knows any thing, he may properly be required to state the origin -of his knowledge, and in doing this, he must of necessity go back either -to sensation or to feeling; the latter stands above the former as high -as the human species above the brute. So I affirm, then, without -hesitation, says Jacobi, that my philosophy starts from pure feeling, -and declares the authority of this to be supreme. The faculty of feeling -is the highest in man, and that alone which specifically distinguishes -him from the brute. This faculty is one and the same with reason; or, -reason may be said to find in it its single and only starting point. - -Jacobi had the clearest consciousness of the opposition in which he -stood, with this principle of immediate knowledge, to previous -philosophy. In his introduction to his complete works, he says: "There -had arisen since the time of Aristotle an increasing effort in -philosophical schools, to subject the immediate knowledge to the -mediate, to make that faculty of perception which originally establishes -every thing, dependent on the faculty of reflection, which is -conditioned through abstraction; to subordinate the archetype to the -copy, the essence to the word, the reason to the understanding, and, in -fact, to make the former wholly disappear in the latter. Nothing is -allowed to be true which is not capable of a double demonstration, in -the intuition and in the conception, in the thing and in its image or -word; the thing itself, it is said, must truly lie and actually be known -only in the word." But every philosophy which allows only the reflecting -reason, must lose itself at length in an utter ignorance. Its end is -nihilism. - -3. From what has been already said, the position of Jacobi with his -principle of faith, in relation to the Kantian philosophy, can, partly -at least, be seen. Jacobi had separated himself from this philosophy, -partly in the above-named dialogue "David Hume," (especially in an -appendix to this, in which he discussed the transcendental Idealism), -and partly in his essay "_On the attempt of criticism to bring the -reason to the understanding_" (1801). His relation to it may be reduced -to the following three general points: - -(1.) Jacobi does not agree with Kant's theory of sensuous knowledge. In -opposition to this theory he defends the standpoint of empiricism, -affirms the truthfulness of the sense-perception, and denies the -apriority of space and time, for which Kant contends in order to prove -that objects as well as their relations are simply determinations of our -own self, and do not at all exist externally to us. For, however much it -may be affirmed that there is something corresponding to our notions as -their cause, yet does it remain concealed what this something is. -According to Kant, the laws of our beholding and thinking are without -objective validity, our knowledge has no objective significance. But it -is wrong to claim that in the phenomena there is nothing revealed of the -hidden truth which lies behind them. With such a claim, it were far -better to give up completely the unknown thing-in-itself, and carry out -to its results the consequent idealism. "Logically, Kant is at fault, -when he presupposes objects which make impressions on our soul. He is -bound to teach the strictest idealism." - -(2.) Yet Jacobi essentially agrees with Kant's critick of the -understanding. Jacobi affirmed, as Kant had done, that the understanding -is insufficient to know the supersensible, and that the highest ideas of -the reason could be apprehended only in faith. Jacobi places Kant's -great merit in having cleared away the ideas, which were simply the -products of reflection and logical phantasms. "It is very easy for the -understanding, when producing one notion from another, and thus -gradually mounting up to ideas, to imagine that, by virtue of these, -which, though they carry it beyond the intuitions of the sense, are -nothing but logical phantasms, it has not only the faculty but the most -decided determination to fly truly above the world of sense, and to gain -by its flight a higher science independent of the intuition, a science -of the supersensible. Kant discovers and destroys this error and -self-deception. Thus there is gained, at least, a clear place for a -_genuine_ rationalism. This is Kant's truly great deed, his immortal -merit. But the sound sense of our sage did not allow him to hide from -himself that this clear place must disappear in a gulf, which would -swallow up in itself all knowledge of the true, unless a God should -interpose to hinder it. Here Kant's doctrine and mine meet." - -(3.) But Jacobi does not fully agree with Kant, in wholly denying to the -theoretical reason the faculty of objective knowledge. He blames Kant -for complaining that the human reason cannot theoretically prove the -reality of its ideas. He affirms that Kant is thus still entangled in -the delusion, that the only reason why these ideas cannot be proved, is -found in the nature of the ideas themselves, and not in the deficient -nature of our knowledge. Kant therefore attempts to seek, in a practical -way, a kind of scientific proof; a roundabout way, which, to every -profound seeker, must seem folly, since every proof is as impossible as -it is unnecessary. - -Jacobi agreed better with Kant, than with the post-Kantian philosophy. -The atheistic tendency of the latter was especially repulsive to him. -"To Kant, that profound thinker and upright philosopher, the words God, -freedom, immortality, and religion, signified the same as they have ever -done to the sound human understanding; he in no way treats them as -nothing but deception. He created offence by irresistibly showing the -insufficiency of all proofs of speculative philosophy for these ideas. -That which was wanting in the theoretical proof, he made up by the -necessary postulates of a pure practical reason. With these, according -to Kant's assurance, philosophy was fully helped out of her difficulty, -and the goal, which had been always missed, actually reached. But the -first daughter of the critical philosophy (Fichte's system) makes the -living and working moral order itself to be God, a God expressly -declared to be without consciousness and self-existence. These frank -words, spoken publicly and without restraint, roused some attention, but -the fear soon subsided. Presently astonishment ceased wholly, for the -second daughter of the critical philosophy (Schelling's system) gave up -entirely the distinction which the first had allowed to remain between -natural and moral philosophy, necessity and freedom, and without any -further ado affirmed that the only existence is nature, and that there -is nothing above; this second daughter is Spinozism transfigured and -reversed, an ideal materialism." This latter allusion to Schelling, -connected as it was with other and harder thrusts in the same essay, -called out from this philosopher the well-known answer: "_Schelling's -Monument to the Treatise on Divine Things_, 1812." - -If we now take a critical survey of the philosophical standpoint of -Jacobi, we shall find its peculiarity to consist in the abstract -separation of understanding and feeling. These two Jacobi could not -bring into harmony. "There is light in my heart," he says, "but it goes -out whenever I attempt to bring it into the understanding. Which is the -true luminary of these two? That of the understanding, which, though it -reveals fixed forms, shows behind them only a baseless gulf? Or that of -the heart, which points its light promisingly upwards, though -determinate knowledge escapes it? Can the human spirit grasp the truth -unless it possesses these two luminaries united in one light? And is -this union conceivable except through a miracle?" If now, in order to -escape in a certain degree this contradiction between understanding and -feeling, Jacobi gave to immediate knowledge the place of mediate as -finite knowledge, this was a self-deception. Even that knowledge, which -is supposed to be immediate, and which Jacobi regards as the peculiar -organ for knowing the supersensible, is also mediate, obliged to go -through a course of subjective mediations, and can only give itself out -as immediate when it wholly forgets its own origin. - - - - -SECTION XLI. - -FICHTE - - -Johann Gottlieb Fichte was born at Rammenau, in Upper Lusatia, 1762. A -nobleman of Silesia became interested in the boy, and having committed -him first to the instruction of a clergyman, he afterwards placed him at -the high school at Schulpforte. In his eighteenth year, at Michaelmas, -1780, Fichte entered the university at Jena to study theology. He soon -found himself attracted to philosophy, and became powerfully affected by -the study of Spinoza. His pecuniary circumstances were straitened, but -this only served to harden his will and his energy. In 1784 he became -employed as a teacher in a certain family, and spent some time in this -occupation with different families in Saxony. In 1787 he sought a place -as country clergyman, but was refused on account of his religious -opinions. He was now obliged to leave his fatherland, to which he clung -with his whole soul. He repaired to Zurich, where, in 1788, he took a -post as private tutor, and where also he became acquainted with his -future wife, a sister's daughter of Klopstock. At Easter, 1790, he -returned to Saxony and taught privately at Leipsic, where he became -acquainted with the Kantian philosophy, by means of lessons which he was -obliged to give to a student. In the spring of 1791 we find him as -private tutor at Warsaw, and soon after in Konigsberg, where he -resorted, that he might become personally acquainted with the Kant he -had learned to revere. Instead of a letter of recommendation he -presented him his "_Critick of all Revelation_," a treatise which Fichte -composed in eight days. In this he attempted to deduce, from the -practical reason, the possibility of a revelation. This is not seen -purely apriori, but only under an empirical condition; we must consider -humanity to be in a moral ruin so complete, that the moral law has lost -all its influence upon the will and all morality is extinguished. In -such a case we may expect that God, as moral governor of the world, -would give man, through the sense, some pure moral impulses, and reveal -himself as lawgiver to them through a special manifestation determined -for this end, in the world of sense. In such a case a particular -revelation were a postulate of the practical reason. Fichte sought also -to determine apriori the possible content of such a revelation. Since we -need to know nothing but God, freedom, and immortality, the revelation -will contain naught but these, and these it must contain in a -comprehensible form, yet so that the symbolical dress may lay no claim -to unlimited veneration. This treatise, which appeared anonymously in -1792, at once attracted the greatest attention, and was at first -universally regarded as a work of Kant. It procured for its author, soon -after, a call to the chair of philosophy at Jena, to succeed Reinhold, -who then went to Kiel. Fichte received this appointment in 1793 at -Zurich, where he had gone to consummate his marriage. At the same time -he wrote and published, also anonymously, his "_Aids to correct views of -the French Revolution_," an essay which the governments never looked -upon with favor. At Easter, 1794, he entered upon his new office, and -soon saw his public call confirmed. Taking now a new standpoint, which -transcended Kant, he sought to establish this, and carry it out in a -series of writings (the _Wissenschaftslehre_ appeared in 1794, the -_Naturrecht_ in 1796, and the _Sittenlehre_ in 1798), by which he -exerted a powerful influence upon the scientific movement in Germany, -aided as he was in this by the fact that Jena was then one of the most -flourishing of the German universities, and the resort of every vigorous -head. With Goethe, Schiller, the brothers Schlegel, William von -Humboldt, and Hufeland, Fichte was in close fellowship, though this was -unfortunately broken after a few years. In 1795 he became associate -editor of the "_Philosophical Journal_," which had been established by -Niethammer. A fellow-laborer, Rector Forberg, at Saalfeld, offered for -publication in this journal an article "to determine the conception of -religion." Fichte advised the author not to publish it, but at length -inserted it in the journal, prefacing it, however, with an introduction -of his own. "_On the ground of our faith in a divine government of the -world_," in which he endeavored to remove, or at least soften, the views -in the article which might give offence. Both the essays raised a great -cry of atheism. The elector of Saxony confiscated the journal in his -territory, and sent a requisition to the dukes Ernest, who held in -common the university of Jena, to summon the author to trial and -punishment. Fichte answered the edict of confiscation and attempted to -justify himself to the public (1799), by his "_Appeal to the Public. An -essay which it is requested may be read before it is confiscated_;" -while he defended his course to the government by an article entitled -"_The Publishers of the Philosophical Journal justified from the charge -of Atheism_." The government of Weimar, being as anxious to spare him as -it was to please the elector of Saxony, delayed its decision. But as -Fichte, either with or without reason, had privately learned that the -whole matter was to be settled by reprimanding the accused parties for -their want of caution; and, desiring either a civil acquittal or an open -and proper satisfaction, he wrote a private letter to a member of the -government, in which he desired his dismission in case of a reprimand, -and which he closed with the intimation that many of his friends would -leave the university with him, in order to establish together a new one -in Germany. The government regarded this letter as an application for -his discharge, indirectly declaring that the reprimand was unavoidable. -Fichte, now an object of suspicion, both on account of his religious and -political views, looked about him in vain for a place of refuge. The -prince of Rudolstadt, to whom he turned, denied him his protection, and -his arrival in Berlin (1799) attracted great notice. In Berlin, where he -had much intercourse with Frederick Schlegel, and also with -Schleiermacher and Novalis, his views became gradually modified; the -catastrophe at Jena had led him from the exclusive moral standpoint -which he, resting upon Kant, had hitherto held, to the sphere of -religion; he now sought to reconcile religion with his standpoint of the -_Wissenshaftslehre_, and turned himself to a certain mysticism (the -second form of the Fichtian theory). After he had privately taught a -number of years in Berlin, and had also held philosophical lectures for -men of culture, he was recommended (1805) by Beyme and Altenstein, -chancellor of state of Hardenberg, to a professorship of philosophy in -Erlangen, an appointment which he received together with a permit to -return to Berlin in the winter, and hold there his philosophical -lectures before the public. Thus, in the winter of 1807-8, while a -French marshal was governor of Berlin, and while his voice was often -drowned by the hostile tumults of the enemy through the streets, he -delivered his famous "_Addresses to the German nation_." Fichte labored -most assiduously for the foundation of the Berlin university, for only -by wholly transforming the common education did he believe the -regeneration of Germany could be secured. As the new university was -opened 1809, he was made in the first year dean of the philosophical -faculty, and in the second was invested with the dignity of rector. In -the "war of liberation," then breaking out, Fichte took the liveliest -participation by word and deed. His wife had contracted a nervous fever -by her care of the sick and wounded, and though she recovered, he fell a -victim to the same disease. He died Jan. 28, 1814, not having yet -completed his fifty-second year. - -In the following exposition of Fichte's philosophy, we distinguish -between the two internally different periods of his philosophizing, that -of Jena and that of Berlin. The first division will include two -parts--Fichte's theory of science and his practical philosophy. - -I. THE FICHTIAN PHILOSOPHY IN ITS ORIGINAL FORM. 1. THE THEORETICAL -PHILOSOPHY OF FICHTE, HIS WISSENSCHAFTSLEHRE, OR THEORY OF SCIENCE.--It -has already been shown (§ 39) that the thoroughly-going subjective -idealism of Fichte was only the logical consequence of the Kantian -standpoint. It was wholly unavoidable that Fichte should entirely reject -the Kantian essentially thing (_thing in itself_), which Kant had -himself declared to be unrecognizable though real, and that he should -posit as a proper act of the mind, that external influence which Kant -had referred to the essentially thing. That the Ego alone is, and that -which we regard as a limitation of the Ego by external objects, is -rather the proper self-limitation of the Ego; this is the grand feature -of the Fichtian as of every idealism. - -Fichte himself supported the standpoint of this Theory of Science as -follows: In every experience there is conjointly an Ego and a thing, the -intelligence and its object. Which of these two sides must now be -reduced to the other? If the philosopher abstracts the Ego, he has -remaining an essentially thing, and must then apprehend his -representations or sensations as the products of this object; if he -abstracts the object, he has remaining an essentially Ego (an Ego _in -itself_). The former is dogmatism, the latter idealism. Both are -irreconcilable with each other, and there is no third way possible. We -must therefore choose between the two. In order to decide between the -two systems, we must note the following: (1) That the Ego appears in -consciousness, wherefore the essentially thing is a pure invention, -since in consciousness we have only that which is perceived; (2) -Dogmatism must account for the origin of its representation through some -essentially object, it must start from something which does not lie in -the consciousness. But the effect of being is only being, and not -representation. Hence idealism alone can be correct which does not start -from being, but from intelligence. According to idealism, intelligence -is only active, not passive, because it is a first and absolute: and on -this account there belongs to it no being, but simply an acting. The -forms of this acting, the system of the necessary mode in which -intelligence acts, must be found from the essence of intelligence. If we -should take the laws of intelligence from experience, as Kant did his -categories, we fail in two respects: (1) We do not see why intelligence -must so act, nor whether these laws are immanent laws of intelligence; -(2) We do not see how the object itself originates. Hence the -fundamental principles of intelligence, as well as the objective world, -must be derived from the Ego itself. - -Fichte supposed that in these results he only expressed the true sense -of the Kantian philosophy. "Whatever my system may properly be, whether -the genuine criticism thoroughly carried out, _as I believe it is_, or -howsoever it be named, is of no account." His system, Fichte affirms, -had the same view of the matter as Kant's, while the numerous followers -of this philosopher had wholly mistaken and misunderstood their master's -idealism. In the second introduction to the Theory of Science (1797), -Fichte grants to these expounders of the Critick of pure Reason that it -contains some passages where Kant would affirm that sensations must be -given to the subject from without as the material conditions of -objective reality; but shows that the innumerably repeated declarations -of the Critick, that there could be no influence upon us of a real -transcendental object outside of us, cannot at all be reconciled with -these passages, if any thing other than a simple thought be understood -as the ground of the sensations. "So long," adds Fichte, "as Kant does -not expressly declare that he derives sensations from an impression of -some essentially thing, or, to use his terminology, that sensation must -be explained from a transcendental object existing externally to us: so -long will I not believe what these expounders tell us of Kant. But if he -should give such an explanation, I should sooner regard the Critick of -Pure Reason to be a work of chance than of design." For such an -explanation the aged Kant did not suffer him long to wait. In the -_Intelligenzblatt der Allgemeinen Litteraturzeitung_ (1799), he -formally, and with much emphasis, rejects the Fichtian improvement of -his system, and protests against every interpretation of his writings -according to the conceit of any mind, while he maintains the literal -interpretation of his theory as laid down in the Critick of Reason. -Reinhold remarks upon all this: "Since the well known and public -explanation of Kant respecting Fichte's philosophy, there can be no -longer a doubt that Kant himself would represent his own system, and -desire to have it represented by his readers, entirely otherwise than -Fichte had represented and interpreted it. But from this it irresistibly -follows, that Kant himself did not regard his system as illogical -because it presupposed something external to the subjectivity. -Nevertheless, it does not at all follow that Fichte erred when he -declared that this system, with such a presupposition, must be -illogical." So much for Reinhold. That Kant himself did not fail to see -this inconclusiveness, is evident from the changes he introduced into -the second edition of the Critick of Pure Reason, where he suffered the -idealistic side of his system to fall back decidedly behind the -empirical. - -From what has been said, we can see the universal standpoint of the -Theory of Science; the Ego is made a principle, and from the Ego every -thing else is sought to be derived. It hardly needs to be remarked, that -by this Ego we are to understand, not any individual, but the universal -Ego, the universal rationality. The Ego and the individual, the pure and -the empirical Ego, are wholly different conceptions. - -We have still the following preface to make concerning the form of the -Theory of Science. A theory of science, according to Fichte, must posit -some supreme principle, from which every other must be derived. This -supreme principle must be absolutely, and through itself, certain. If -our human knowledge should be any thing but fragmentary, there must be -such a supreme principle. But now, since such a principle does not admit -of proof, every thing depends upon giving it a trial. Its test and -demonstration can only be thus gained, viz., if we find a principle to -which all science may be referred, then is this shown to be a -fundamental principle. But besides the first fundamental principle, -there are yet two others to be considered, the one of which is -unconditioned as to its content, but as to its form, conditioned through -and derived from the first fundamental principle; the other the reverse. -The relation of these three principles to each other is, in fine, this, -viz., that the second stands opposed to the first, while a third is the -product of the two. Hence, according to this plan, the first absolute -principle starts from the Ego, the second opposes to the Ego a thing or -a non-Ego, and the third brings forward the Ego again in reaction -against the thing or the non-Ego. This method of Fichte -(thesis,--antithesis,--synthesis) is the same as Hegel subsequently -adopted, and applied to the whole system of philosophy, a union of the -synthetical and analytical methods. We start with a fundamental -synthesis, which we analyze to produce its antitheses, in order to unite -these antitheses again through a second synthesis. But in making this -second synthesis, our analysis discovers still farther antitheses, which -obliges us therefore to find another synthesis, and so onward in the -process, till we come at length to antitheses which can no longer be -perfectly but only approximately connected. - -We stand now upon the threshold of the _Theory of Science_. It is -divided into three parts. (1) General principles of a theory of science. -(2) Principles of theoretical knowledge. (3) Principles of practical -science. - -As has already been said, there are three _supreme_ fundamental -principles, one absolutely unconditioned, and two relatively -unconditioned. - -(1.) _The absolutely first and absolutely unconditioned fundamental -principle_ ought to express that act of the mind which lies at the basis -of all consciousness, and alone makes consciousness possible. Such is -the principle of identity, A = A. This principle remains, and cannot be -thought away, though every empirical determination be removed. It is a -fact of consciousness, and must, therefore, be universally admitted: but -at the same time it is by no means conditioned, like every other -empirical fact, but unconditioned, because it is a free act. By -affirming that this principle is certain without any farther ground, we -ascribe to ourselves the faculty of _positing_ something absolutely. We -do not, therefore, affirm that A is, but only that if A is, then it is -equal to A. It is no matter now about the content of the principle, we -need only regard its form. The principle A = A is, therefore, -conditioned (hypothetically) as to its content, and unconditioned only -as to its form and its connection. If we would now have a principle -unconditioned in its content as well as in its connection, we put Ego in -the place of A, as we are fully entitled to do, since the connection of -subject and predicate contained in the judgment A = A is posited in the -Ego and through the Ego. Hence A = A becomes transformed into Ego = Ego. -This principle is unconditioned not only as to its connection, but also -as to its content. While we could not, instead of A = A, say that A is, -yet we can instead of Ego = Ego, say that Ego is. All the facts of the -empirical consciousness find their ground of explanation in this, viz., -that before any thing else is posited in the Ego, the Ego itself is -there. This fact, that the Ego is absolutely posited and grounded on -itself, is the basis of all acting in the human mind, and shows the pure -character of activity in itself. The Ego _is_, because it posits itself, -and it only is, because this simple positing of itself is wholly by -itself. The being of the Ego is thus seen in the positing of the Ego, -and on the other hand, the Ego is enabled _to posit_ simply by virtue of -its being. It is at the same time the acting, and the product of the -action. I am, is the expression of the only possible deed. Logically -considered we have, in the first principle of a Theory of Science, A = -A, the logical law of identity. From the proposition A = A, we arrive at -the proposition Ego = Ego. The latter proposition, however, does not -derive its validity from the former, but contrarywise. The prius of all -judgments is the Ego, which posits the connection of subject and -predicate. The logical law of identity arises, therefore, from Ego = -Ego. Metaphysically considered, we have in this same first principle of -a Theory of Science, the category of _reality_. We obtain this category -by abstracting every thing from the content, and reflecting simply upon -the mode of acting of the human mind. From the Ego, as the absolute -subject, every category is derived. - -(2.) _The second fundamental principle_, conditioned in its content, and -only unconditioned in its form, which is just as incapable as the first -of demonstration or derivation, is also a fact of the empirical -consciousness: it is the proposition non-A is not = A. This sentence is -unconditioned in its form, because it is free act like the first, from -which it cannot be derived; but in its content, as to its matter it is -conditioned, because if a non-A is posited, there must have previously -been posited an A. Let us examine this principle more closely. In the -first principle, A = A, the form of the act was a positing, while in -this second principle it is an oppositing. There is an absolute -opposition, and this opposition, in its simple form, is an act -absolutely possible, standing under no condition, limited by no higher -ground. But as to its matter, the opposition presupposes a position; the -non-A cannot be posited without the A. What non-A is, I do not through -that yet know: I only know concerning non-A that it is the opposite of -A: hence I only know what non-A is under the condition that I know A. -But now A is posited through the Ego; there is originally nothing -posited but the Ego, and nothing but this absolutely posited. Hence -there can be an absolute opposition only to the Ego. That which is -opposed to the Ego is the non-Ego. A non-Ego is absolutely opposed to -the Ego, and this is the second fact of the empirical consciousness. In -every thing ascribed to the Ego, the contrary, by virtue of this simple -opposition, must be ascribed to the non Ego.--As we obtained from the -first principle Ego = Ego, the logical law of identity, so now we have, -from the second sentence Ego is not = non-Ego, the logical law of -contradiction. And metaphysically,--since we wholly abstract the definite -act of judgment, and, simply in the form of sequence, conclude not-being -from opposite being,--we possess from this second principle the category -of _negation_. - -(3.) _The third principle_, conditioned in its form, is almost capable -of proof, since it is determined by two others. At every step we -approach the province where every thing can be proved. This third -principle is conditioned in its form, and unconditioned only in its -content: _i. e._ the problem, but not the solution of the act to be -established through it, has been given through the two preceding -principles. The solution is afforded unconditionally and absolutely by a -decisive word of the reason. The problem to be solved by this third -principle is this, viz., to adjust the contradiction contained in the -two former ones. On the one side, the Ego is wholly suppressed by the -non-Ego: there can be no positing of the Ego so far as the non-Ego is -posited. On the other side, the non-Ego is only an Ego posited in the -consciousness, and hence the Ego is not suppressed by the non-Ego. The -Ego appearing on the one side to be suppressed, is not really -suppressed. Such a result would be non-A = A. In order to remove this -contradiction, which threatens to destroy the identity of our -consciousness, and the only absolute foundation of our knowledge, we -must find in _x_ that which will justify both of the first two -principles, and leave the identity of our consciousness undisturbed. The -two opposites, the Ego and the non-Ego, should be united in the -consciousness, should be alike posited without either excluding the -other; they should be received in the identity of the proper -consciousness. How shall being and not-being, reality and negation, be -conceived together without destroying each other? They will reciprocally -_limit_ each other. Hence the unknown quantity _x_, whose terms we are -seeking, stands for these limits: limitation is the sought-for act of -the Ego, and as category in the thought, we have thus the category of -determination or _limitation_. But in limitation, there is also given -the category of _quantity_, for when we say that any thing is limited, -we mean that its reality is through negation, not _wholly_, but only -_partially_ suppressed. Thus the conception of limit contains also the -conception of divisibility, besides the conceptions of reality and -negation. Through the act of limitation, the Ego as well as the non-Ego, -is posited as divisible. Still farther, we see how a logical law follows -from the third fundamental principle as well as from the first two. If -we abstract the definite content, the Ego and the non-Ego, and leave -remaining the simple form of the union of opposites through the -conception of divisibility, we have then the logical _principle of the -ground_, or foundation, which may be expressed in the formula: A in part -= non-A, non-A in part = A. Wherever two opposites are alike in one -characteristic, we consider the ground as a ground of relation, and -wherever two similar things are opposite in one characteristic, we -consider the ground as a ground of distinction.--With these three -principles we have now exhausted the measure of that which is -unconditioned and absolutely certain. We can embrace the three in the -following formula: - -_I posit in the Ego a divisible non Ego over against the divisible Ego._ -No philosophy can go beyond this cognition, and every fundamental -philosophy should go back to this. Just so far as it does this, it -becomes science (_Wissenschaftslehre_). Every thing which can appear in -a system of knowledge, as well as a farther division of the Theory of -Science itself, must be derived from this. The proposition that the Ego -and the non-Ego reciprocally limit each other, may be divided into the -following two: (1) the Ego posits itself as limited through the non-Ego -(_i. e._ the Ego is in a cognitive (or passive) relation); (2) the Ego -posits the non-Ego as limited through the Ego (_i. e._ the Ego is in an -active relation). The former proposition is the basis of the -theoretical, and the latter of the practical part of the Theory of -Science. The latter part cannot, at the outset, be brought upon the -stage; for the non-Ego, which should be limited by the acting Ego, does -not at the outset exist, and we must wait and see whether it will find, -in the theoretical part, a reality. - -_The groundwork of theoretical knowledge_ advances through an -uninterrupted series of antitheses and syntheses. The fundamental -synthesis of the theoretical Theory of Science is the proposition: _the -Ego posits itself as determined_ (limited) _by the non-Ego_. If we -analyze this sentence, we find in it two subordinate sentences which are -reciprocally opposite. (1) The non-Ego as active determines the Ego, -which thus far is passive; but since all activity must start from the -Ego, so (2) the Ego determines itself through an absolute activity. -Herein is a contradiction, that the Ego should be at the same time -active and passive. Since this contradiction would destroy the above -proposition, and also suppress the unity of consciousness, we are forced -to seek some point, some new synthesis, in which these given antitheses -may be united. This synthesis is attained when we find that the -conceptions of action and passion, which are contained under the -categories of reality and negation, find their compensation and due -adjustment in the conception of divisibility. The propositions: "the Ego -determines," and "the Ego is determined," are reconciled in the -proposition: "the Ego determines itself in part, and is determined in -part." Both, however, should be considered as one and the same. Hence -more accurately: as many parts of reality as the Ego posits in itself, -so many parts of negation does it posit in the non-Ego; and as many -parts of reality as the Ego posits in the non-Ego, so many parts of -negation does it posit in itself. This determination is _reciprocal -determination_, or _reciprocal action_. Thus Fichte deduces the last of -the three categories under Kant's general category of relation. In a -similar way (viz., by finding a synthesis for apparent contradictions), -he deduces the two other categories of this class, viz., that of cause, -and that of substance. The process is thus: So far as the Ego is -determined, and therefore passive, has the non-Ego reality. The category -of reciprocal determination, to which we may ascribe indifferently -either of the two sides, reality or negation, may, more strictly taken, -imply that the Ego is passive, and the non-Ego active. The notion which -expresses this relation is that of _causality_. That, to which activity -is ascribed, is called _cause_ (primal reality), and that to which -passiveness is ascribed, is called _effect_; both, conceived in -connection, may be termed a _working_. On the other side, the Ego -determines itself. Herein is a contradiction; (1) the Ego determines -itself; it is therefore that which determines, and is thus active; (2) -it determines itself; it is therefore that which becomes determined, and -is thus passive. Thus in one respect and in one action both reality and -negation are ascribed to it. To resolve this contradiction, we must find -a mode of action which is activity and passiveness in one; the Ego must -determine its passiveness through activity, and its activity through -passiveness. This solution is attained by aid of the conception of -quantity. In the Ego all reality is first of all posited as absolute -quantum, as absolute totality, and thus far the Ego may be compared to a -greatest circle which contains all the rest. A definite quantum of -activity, or a limited sphere within this greatest circle of activity, -is indeed a _reality_; but when compared with the totality of activity, -is it also a _negation_ of the totality or passiveness. Here we have -found the mediation sought for; it lies in the notion of _substance_. In -so far as the Ego is considered as the whole circle, embracing the -totality of all realities, is it substance; but so far as it becomes -posited in a determinate sphere of this circle, is it accidental. No -accidence is conceivable without substance; for, in order to know that -any thing is a definite reality, it must first be referred to reality in -general, or to substance. In every change we think of substance in the -universal; accidence is something specific (determinate), which changes -with every changing cause. _There is originally but one substance, the -Ego_; in this one substance all possible accidents, and therefore all -possible realities, are posited. The Ego alone is the absolutely -infinite. The Ego, as thinking and as acting, indicates a limitation. -The Fichtian theory is accordingly Spinozism, only (as Jacobi strikingly -called it) a reversed and idealistic Spinozism. - -Let us look back a moment. The objectivity which Kant had allowed to -exist Fichte has destroyed. There is _only_ the Ego. But the Ego -presupposes a non-Ego, and therefore a kind of object. How the Ego comes -to posit such an object, must the theoretical Theory of Science now -proceed to show. - -There are two extreme views respecting the relation of the Ego to the -non-Ego, according as we start from the conception of cause, or that of -substance. (1) Starting from the conception of cause, we have posited -through the passiveness of the Ego an activity of the non-Ego. This -passiveness of the Ego must have some ground. This cannot lie in the -Ego, which in itself posits only activity. Consequently it lies in the -non-Ego. Here the distinction between action and passion is apprehended, -not simply as quantitative (_i. e._, viewing the passiveness as a -diminished activity), but the passion is in quality opposed to the -action; a presupposed activity of the non-Ego is, therefore, a real -ground of the passiveness in the Ego. (2) Starting from the conception -of substance, we have posited a passiveness of the Ego through its own -activity. Here the passiveness in respect of quality is the same as -activity, it being only a diminished activity. While, therefore, -according to the first view, the passive Ego has a ground distinct in -quality from the Ego, and thus a real ground, yet here its ground is -only a diminished activity of the Ego, distinct only in quantity from -the Ego, and is thus an ideal ground. The former view is dogmatic -realism, the latter is dogmatic idealism. The latter affirms: all -reality of the non-Ego is only a reality given it from the Ego; the -former declares: nothing can be given, unless there be something to -receive, unless an independent reality of the non-Ego, as thing in -itself, be presupposed. Both views present thus a contradiction, which -can only be removed by a new synthesis. Fichte attempted this synthesis -of idealism and realism, by bringing out a mediating system of critical -idealism. For this purpose he sought to show that the ideal ground and -the real ground are one and the same. Neither is the simple activity of -the Ego a ground for the reality of the non-Ego, nor is the simple -activity of the non-Ego a ground for the passiveness in the Ego. Both -must be conceived together in this way, viz., the activity of the Ego -meets a _hindrance_, which is set up against it, not without some -assistance of the Ego, and which circumscribes and reflects in itself -this activity of the Ego. The hindrance is found when the subjective can -be no farther extended, and the expanding activity of the Ego is driven -back into itself, producing as its result self-limitation. What we call -objects are nothing other than the different impinging of the activity -of the Ego on some inconceivable hindrance, and these determinations of -the Ego, we carry over to something external to ourselves, and represent -them to ourselves as space filling matter. That which Fichte calls a -hindrance through the non-Ego, is thus in fact the same as Kant calls -thing essentially, the only difference being that with Fichte it is made -subjective. From this point Fichte then deduces the subjective -activities of the Ego, which mediate, or seek to mediate, theoretically, -the Ego with the non-Ego--as imagination, representation (sensation, -intuition, feeling), understanding, faculty of judgment, reason; and in -connection with this he brought out the subjective projections of the -intuition, space, and time. - -We have now reached the third part of the Theory of Science, via., _the -foundation of the practical_. We have seen that the Ego represents. But -that it may represent does not depend upon the Ego alone, but is -determined by something external to it. We could in no way conceive of a -representation, except through the presupposition that the Ego finds -some hindrance to its undetermined and unlimited activity. Accordingly -the Ego, as intelligence, is universally dependent upon an indefinite, -and hitherto wholly indefinable non-Ego, and only through and by means -of such non-Ego, is it intelligence. A finite being is only finite as -intelligence. These limits, however, we shall break through. The -practical law which unites the finite Ego with the infinite, can depend -upon nothing external to ourselves. The Ego, according to all its -determinations, should be posited absolutely through itself, and hence -should be wholly independent of every possible non-Ego. Consequently, -the absolute Ego and the intelligent Ego, both of which should -constitute but one, are opposed to each other. This contradiction is -obviated, when we see that because the absolute Ego is capable of no -passiveness, but is absolute activity, therefore the Ego determines, -through itself, that hitherto unknown non-Ego, to which the hindrance -has been ascribed. The limits which the Ego, as theoretic, has set over -against itself in the non-Ego, it must, as practical, seek to destroy, -and absorb again the non-Ego in itself (or conceive it as the -self-limitation of the Ego). The Kantian primacy of the practical reason -is here made a truth. The transition of the theoretical part into the -practical, the necessity of advancing from the one to the other, Fichte -represents more closely thus:--The theoretical Theory of Science had to -do with the mediation of the Ego, and the non-Ego. For this end it -introduced one connecting link after another, without ever attaining its -end. Then enters the reason with the absolute and decisive word: "there -ought to be no non-Ego, since the non-Ego can in no way be united with -the Ego;" and with this the knot is cut, though not untied. Thus it is -the incongruity between the absolute (practical) Ego, and the finite -(intelligent) Ego, which is carried over beyond the theoretical province -into the practical. True, this incongruity does not wholly disappear, -even in the practical province, where the act is only an infinite -striving to surpass the limits of the non-Ego. The Ego, so far as it is -practical, has, indeed, the tendency to pass beyond the actual world, -and establish an ideal world, as it would be were every reality posited -by the absolute Ego; but this striving is always confined to the finite -partly through itself, because it goes out towards objects, and objects -are finite, and partly through the resistance of the sensible world. We -ought to seek to reach the infinite, but we cannot do it; this striving -and inability is the impress of our destiny for eternity. - -Thus--and in these words Fichte brings together the result of the Theory -of Science--the whole being of finite rational natures is comprehended -and exhausted: an original idea of our absolute being; an effort to -reflect upon ourselves, in order to gain this idea; a limitation, not of -this striving, but of our own existence, which first becomes actual -through this limitation, or through an opposite principle, a non-Ego, or -our finiteness; a self-consciousness, and especially a consciousness of -our practical strivings; a determination accordingly of our -representations, and through these of our actions; a constant widening -of our limits into the infinite. - -2. FICHTE'S PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY.--The principles which Fichte had -developed in his Theory of Science he applied to practical life, -especially to the theory of rights and morals. He sought to deduce here -every thing with methodical rigidness, without admitting any thing which -could not be proved from experience. Thus, in the theory of rights and -of morals, he will not presuppose a plurality of persons, but first -deduces this: even that the man has a body is first demonstrated, -though, to be sure, not stringently. - -_The Theory of Rights_ (_the rights of nature_) Fichte founds upon the -conception of the individual. First, he deduces the conception of -rights, and as follows:--A finite rational being cannot posit itself -without ascribing to itself a free activity. Through this positing of -its faculties to a free activity, this rational being posits an external -world of sense, for it can ascribe to itself no activity till it has -posited an object towards which this activity may be directed. Still -farther, this free activity of a rational being presupposes other -rational beings, for without these it would never be conscious that it -was free. We have therefore a plurality of free individuals, each one of -whom has a sphere of free activity. This co-existence of free -individuals is not possible without a relation of rights. Since no one -with freedom passes beyond his sphere, and each one therefore limits -himself, they recognize each other as rational and free. This relation -of a reciprocal acting through intelligence and freedom between rational -beings, according to which each one has his freedom limited by the -conception of the possibility of the other's freedom, under the -condition also that this other limits his own freedom also through that -of the first, is called a _relation of rights_. The supreme maxim of a -theory of rights is therefore this: limit thy freedom through the -conception of the freedom of every other person with whom thou canst be -connected. After Fichte has attempted the application of this conception -of rights, and for this end has deduced the corporeity, the -anthropological side of man, he passes over to a proper _theory of -rights_. The theory of rights may be divided into three parts. (1) -Rights which belong to the simple conception of person are called -_original rights_. The original right is the absolute right of the -person to be only a cause in the sensible world, though he may be -absolutely (in other relations than to the sense) an effect. In this are -contained, (_a_) the right of personal (bodily) freedom, and (_b_) the -right of property. But every relation of rights between individual -persons is conditioned through each one's recognition of the rights of -the other. Each one must limit the quantum of his free acts for the sake -of the freedom of the other, and only so far as the other has respect to -my freedom need I have regard to his. In case, therefore, the other does -not respect my original rights, some mechanical necessity must be sought -in order to secure the rights of person, and this involves (2) the -_Right of Coercion_. The laws of punishment have their end in securing -that the opposite of that which is intended shall follow every -unrighteous aim, that every vicious purpose shall be destroyed, and the -right in its integrity be established. To establish such a law of -coercion, and to secure a universal coercive power, the free individuals -must enter into covenant among themselves. Such a covenant is only -possible on the ground of a common nature. Natural right, _i. e._ the -rightful relation between man and man, presupposes thus (3) a _civil -right_, viz., (_a_) a free covenant, a compact of citizens by which the -free individuals guarantee to each other their reciprocal rights; (_b_) -positive laws, a civil legislation, through which the common will of all -becomes law; (_c_) an executive force, a civil power which executes the -common will, and in which, therefore, the private will and the common -will are synthetically united. The particular view of Fichte's theory of -rights is this: on the one side there is the state as reason demands -(philosophical theory of rights), and on the other side the state as it -actually is (theory of positive rights and of the state). But now comes -up the problem, to make the actual state ever more and more conformable -to the state of reason. The science which has this approximation for its -aim, is polity. We can demand of no actual state a perfect conformity to -the idea of a state. Every state constitution is according to right, if -it only leaves possible an advancement to a better state, and the only -constitution wholly contrary to right is that whose end is to hold every -thing just as it is. - -The absolute Ego of the Theory of Science is separated in the Theory of -Rights into an infinite number of persons with rights: to bring it out -again in its unity is the problem of _Ethics_. Right and morals are -essentially different. Right is the external necessity to omit or to do -something in order not to infringe upon the freedom of another; the -inner necessity to do or omit something wholly independent of external -ends, constitutes the moral nature of man. And as the theory of rights -arose from the conflict of the impulse of freedom in one subject with -the impulse of freedom in another subject, so does the theory of morals -or ethics arise from such a conflict, which, in the present case, is not -external but internal, between two impulses in one and the same person. -(1) The rational being is impelled towards absolute independence, and -strives after freedom for the sake of freedom. This fundamental impulse -may be called the pure impulse, and it furnishes the formal principle of -ethics, the principle of absolute autonomy, of absolute -indeterminableness through anything external to the Ego. But (2) as the -rational being is actually empirical and finite, as it by nature posits -over against itself a non-Ego and posits itself as corporeal, so there -is found beside the pure impulse another, the impulse of nature, which -makes for its end not freedom but enjoyment. This impulse of nature -furnishes the material, utilitarian (eudoemoniacal) principle of striving -after a connected enjoyment. Both impulses, which from a transcendental -standpoint are one and the same original impulse of the human being, -strive after unity, and furnish a third impulse which is a mingling of -the two. The pure impulse gives the form, and the natural impulse the -content of an action. It is true that sensuous objects will be chosen, -but by virtue of the pure impulse these are modified so as to conform to -the absolute Ego. This mingled impulse is now the moral impulse. It -mediates the pure and the natural impulse. But since these two lie -infinitely apart, the approximation of the natural to the pure impulse -is an infinite progression. The intent in an action is directed towards -a complete freeing from nature, and it is only the result of our -limitation that the act should remain still conformable to the natural -impulse. Since the Ego can never be independent so long as it is Ego, -the final aim of the rational being lies in infinity. There must be a -course in whose progress the Ego can conceive itself as approximating -towards absolute independence. This course is determined in infinity in -the idea; there is, therefore, no possible case in which it is not -determined what the pure impulse should demand. We might name this -course the moral determination (destiny) of the finite rational being. -_The principle of ethics is, therefore: Always fulfil thy destiny!_ That -which is in every moment conformable to our moral destiny, is at the -same time demanded by our natural impulse, though it does not follow -that every thing which the latter demands agrees therefore with the -former. I ought to act only when conscious that something is duty, and I -ought to discharge the duty for its own sake. The blind motives of -sympathy, love of mankind, &c., have not, as mere impulses of nature, -morality. The moral impulse has causality as having none, for it demands -be free! Through the conception of the absolute ought, is the rational -being absolutely independent, and is represented thus only when acting -from duty. The formal condition of the morality of our actions, is: act -always according to the best conviction of thy duty; or, act according -to thy conscience. The absolute criterion of the correctness of our -conviction of duty is a feeling of truth and certainty. This immediate -feeling never deceives, for it only exists with the perfect harmony of -our empirical Ego with that which is pure and original. From this point -Fichte developes his particular ethics, or theory of duties, which, -however, we must here pass by. - -Fichte's _theory of religion_ is developed in the above mentioned -treatise: "_On the ground of our faith in a divine government of the -world_," and in the writings which he subsequently put forth in its -defence. The moral government of the world, says Fichte, we assume to be -the divine. This divine government becomes living and actual in us -through right-doing: it is presupposed in every one of our actions which -are only performed in the presupposition that the moral end is -attainable in the world of sense. The faith in such an order of the -world comprises the whole of faith, for this living and active moral -order is God; we need no other God, and can comprehend no other. There -is no ground in the reason to go out of this moral order of the world, -and by concluding from design to a designer, affirm a separate being as -its cause. Is, then, this order an accidental one? It is the absolute -First of all objective knowledge. But now if you should be allowed to -draw the conclusion that there is a God as a separate being, what have -you gained by this? This being should be distinct from you and the -world, it should work in the latter according to conceptions; it should, -therefore, be capable of conceptions, and possess personality and -consciousness. But what do you call personality and consciousness? -Certainly that which you have found in yourself, which you have learned -to know in yourself, and which you have characterized with such a name. -But that you cannot conceive of this without limitation and finiteness, -you might see by the slightest attention to the construction of this -conception. By attaching, therefore, such a predicate to this being, you -bring it down to a finite, and make it a being like yourself; you have -not conceived God as you intended to do, but have only multiplied -yourself in thought. The conception of God, as a separate substance, is -impossible and contradictory. God has essential existence only as such a -moral order of the world. Every belief in a divine being, which contains -any thing more than the conception of the moral order of the world, is -an abomination to me, and in the highest degree unworthy of a rational -being.--Religion and morality are, on this standpoint, as on that of -Kant, naturally one; both are an apprehending of the supersensible, the -former through action and the latter through faith. This "Religion of -joyous right-doing," Fichte farther carried out in the writings which he -put forth to rebut the charge of atheism. He affirms that nothing but -the principles of the new philosophy could restore the degenerate -religious sense among men, and bring to light the inner essence of the -Christian doctrine. Especially he seeks to show this in his "Appeal" to -the public. In this he says: to furnish an answer to the questions: what -is good? what is true? is the aim of my philosophical system. We must -start with the affirmation that there is something absolutely true and -good; that there is something which can hold and bind the free flight of -thought. There is a voice in man which cannot be silenced, which affirms -that there is a duty, and that it must be done simply for its own sake. -Resting on this basis, there is opened to us an entirely new world in -our being; we attain a higher existence, which is independent of all -nature, and is grounded simply in ourselves. I would call this absolute -self-satisfaction of the reason, this perfect freedom from all -dependence, blessedness. As the single but unerring means of -blessedness, my conscience points me to the fulfilment of duty. I am, -therefore, impressed by the unshaken conviction, that there is a rule -and fixed order, according to which the purely moral disposition -necessarily makes blessed. It is absolutely necessary, and it is the -essential element in religion, that the man who maintains the dignity of -his reason, will repose on the faith in this order of a moral world, -will regard each one of his duties as an enactment of this order, and -will joyfully submit himself to, and find bliss in, every consequence of -his duty. Thou shalt know God if I can only beget in thee a dutiful -character, and though to others of us thou mayest seem to be still in -the world of sense, yet for thyself art thou already a partaker of -eternal life. - -II. THE LATER FORM OF FICHTE'S PHILOSOPHY.--Every thing of importance -which Fichte accomplished as a speculative philosopher, is contained in -the Theory of Science as above considered. Subsequently, after his -departure from Jena, his system gradually became modified, and from -different causes. Partly, because it was difficult to maintain the rigid -idealism of the Theory of Science; partly, because Schelling's natural -philosophy, which now appeared, was not without an influence upon -Fichte's thinking, though the latter denied this and became involved in -a bitter controversy with Schelling; and, partly, his outward relations, -which were far from being happy, contributed to modify his view of the -world. Fichte's writings, in this second period, are for the most part -popular, and intended for a mixed class of readers. They all bear the -impress of his acute mind, and of his exalted manly character, but lack -the originality and the scientific sequence of his earlier productions. -Those of them which are scientific do not satisfy the demands which he -himself had previously laid down with so much strictness, both for -himself and others, in respect of genetic construction and philosophical -method. His doctrine at this time seems rather as a web, of his old -subjective idealistic conceptions and the newly added objective -idealism, so loosely connected that Schelling might call it the -completest syncretism and eclecticism. His new standpoint is chiefly -distinguished from his old by his attempt to merge his subjective -idealism into an objective pantheism (in accordance with the new -Platonism), to transmute the Ego of his earlier philosophy into the -absolute, or the thought of God. God, whose conception he had formerly -placed only at the end of his system, in the doubtful form of a moral -order of the world, becomes to him now the absolute beginning, and -single element of his philosophy. This gave to his philosophy an -entirely new color. The moral severity gives place to a religious -mildness; instead of the Ego and the Ought, life and love are now the -chief features of his philosophy; in place of the exact dialectic of the -Theory of Science, he now makes choice of mystical and metaphorical -modes of expression. - -This second period of Fichte's philosophy is especially characterized by -its inclination to religion and Christianity, as exhibited most -prominently in the essay "_Direction to a Blessed Life_." Fichte here -affirms that his new doctrine is exactly that of Christianity, and -especially of the Gospel according to John. He would make this gospel -alone the clear foundation of Christian truth, since the other apostles -remained half Jews after their conversion, and adhered to the -fundamental error of Judaism, that the world had a creation in time. -Fichte lays great weight upon the first part of John's prologue, where -the formation of the world out of nothing is confuted, and a true view -laid down of a revelation co-eternal with God, and necessarily given -with his being. That which this prologue says of the incarnation of the -Logos in the person of Jesus, has, according to Fichte, only a historic -validity. The absolute and eternally true standpoint is, that at all -times, and in every one, without exception, who is vitally sensible of -his union with God, and who actually and in fact yields up his whole -individual life to the divine life within him,--the eternal word becomes -flesh in the same way as in Jesus Christ and holds a personal, sensible, -and human existence. The whole communion of believers, the first-born -alike with the later born, coincides in the Godhead, the common source -of life for all. And so then, Christianity having gained its end, -disappears again in the eternal truth, and affirms that every man should -come to a union with God. So long as man desires to be himself any thing -whatsoever, God does not come to him, for no man can become God. But -just so soon as he purely, wholly, and radically gives up himself, God -alone remains, and is all and in all. The man himself can beget no God, -but he can give up himself as a proper negation, and thus he disappears -in God. - -The result of his advanced philosophizing, Fichte has briefly and -clearly comprehended in the following lines, which we extract from two -posthumous sonnets: - - The Eternal One - Lives in my life and sees in my beholding. - Nought is but God, and God is nought but life. - Clearly the vail of things rises before thee; - It is thyself, what though the mortal die - And hence there lives but God in thine endeavors, - If thou wilt look through that which lives beyond this death, - The vail of things shall seem to thee as vail, - And unveiled thou shalt look upon the life divine. - - - - -SECTION XLII. - -HERBART. - - -A peculiar, and in many respects noticeable, carrying out of the Kantian -philosophy, was attempted by _Johann Friedrich Herbart_, who was born at -Oldenburg in 1776, chosen professor of philosophy in Göttingen in 1805; -made Kant's successor at Königsberg in 1808, and recalled to Göttingen -in 1833, where he died in 1841. His philosophy, instead of making, like -most other systems, for its principle, an idea of the reason, followed -the direction of Kant, and expended itself mainly in a critical -examination of the subjective experience. It is essentially a criticism, -but with results which are peculiar, and which differ wholly from those -of Kant. Its fundamental position in the history of philosophy is an -isolated one; instead of regarding antecedent systems as elements of a -true philosophy, it looks upon almost all of them as failures. It is -especially hostile to the post-Kantian German philosophy, and most of -all to Schelling's philosophy of nature, in which it could only behold a -phantom and a delusion; sooner than come in contact with this, it would -join Hegelianism, of which it is the opposite pole. We will give a brief -exposition of its prominent thoughts. - -1. THE BASIS AND STARTING-POINT OF PHILOSOPHY is, according to Herbart, -the common view of things, or a knowledge which shall accord with -experience. A philosophical system is in reality nothing but an attempt -by which a thinker strives to solve certain questions which present -themselves before him. Every question brought up in philosophy should -refer itself singly and solely to that which is given, and must arise -from this source alone, because there is no other original field of -certainty, for men, than experience alone. Every philosophy should begin -with it. The thinking should yield itself to experience, which should -lead it, and not be led by it. Experience, therefore, is the only object -and basis of philosophy; that which is not given cannot be an object of -thought, and it is impossible to establish any knowledge which -transcends the limits of experience. - -2. THE FIRST ACT OF PHILOSOPHY.--Though the material furnished by -experience is the basis of philosophy, yet, since it is furnished, it -stands outside of philosophy. The question arises, what is the first act -or beginning of philosophy? The thinking should first separate itself -from experience, that it may clearly see the difficulties of its -undertaking. _The beginning of philosophy_, where the thinking rises -above that which is given, is accordingly doubt or _scepticism_. -Scepticism is twofold, a lower and a higher. The lower scepticism simply -doubts that things are so constituted as they appear to us to be; the -higher scepticism passes beyond the form of the phenomenon, and inquires -whether in reality any thing there exists. It doubts _e. g._ the -succession in time; it asks in reference to the forms of the objects of -nature which exhibit design, whether the design is perceived, or only -attached to them in the thought, &c. Thus the problems which form the -content of metaphysics, are gradually brought out. The result of -scepticism is therefore not negative, but positive. Doubt is nothing but -the thinking upon those conceptions of experience which are the material -of philosophy. Through this reflection, scepticism leads us to the -knowledge that these conceptions of experience, though they refer to -something given, yet contain no conceivable content free from logical -incongruities. - -3. REMODELLING OF THE CONCEPTIONS OF EXPERIENCE.--Metaphysics, according -to Herbart, is the science of that which is conceivable in experience. -Our view thus far has been a twofold one. On the one side we hold fast -to the opinion that the single basis of philosophy is experience, and on -the other side, scepticism has shaken the credibility of experience. The -point now is to transform this scepticism into a definite knowledge of -metaphysical problems. Conceptions from experience crowd upon us, which -cannot be thoughts, _i. e._ they may indeed be thought by the ordinary -understanding, but this thinking is obscure and confused, and does not -separate nor compare opposing characteristics. But an acute process of -thought, a logical analysis, will find in the conceptions of experience -(_e. g._ space, time, becoming, motion, &c.) contradictions and -characteristics, which are totally inconsistent with each other. What -now is to be done? We may not reject these conceptions, for they are -given, and beyond the given we cannot step; we cannot retain them, for -they are inconceivable and cannot logically be established. The only way -of escape which remains to us is to remodel them. _To remodel the -conceptions of experience_, to eliminate their contradictions, is the -proper act of speculation. Scepticism has brought to light the more -definite problems which involve a contradiction, and whose solution it -therefore belongs to metaphysics to attempt; the most important of these -are the problems of inherence, change, and the Ego. - -The relation between Herbart and Hegel is very clear at this point. Both -are agreed respecting the contradictory nature of the determinations of -thought, and the conceptions of experience. But from this point they -separate. It is the nature of these conceptions as of every thing, says -Hegel, to be an inner contradiction; becoming, for instance, is -essentially the unity of being, and not being, &c. This is impossible, -says Herbart, on the other side, so long as the principle of -contradiction is valid; if the conceptions of experience contain inner -contradictions, this is not the fault of the objective world, but of the -representing subject who must rectify his false apprehension by -remodelling these conceptions, and eliminating the contradiction. -Herbart thus charges the philosophy of Hegel with empiricism, because it -receives from experience these contradictory conceptions unchanged, and -not only regards these as established, but even goes so far as to -metamorphose logic on their account, and this simply because they are -given in experience, though their contradictory nature is clearly seen. -Hegel and Herbart stand related to each other as Heraclitus and -Parmenides (_cf._ § § VI. and VII.) - -4. HERBART'S REALS.--From this point Herbart reaches his "reals" -(_Realen_) as follows: To discover the contradictions, he says, in all -our conceptions of experience, might lead us to absolute scepticism, and -to despair of the truth. But here we remember that if the existence of -every thing real be denied, then the appearance, sensation, -representation, and thought itself would be destroyed. We perceive, -therefore, just as strong an indication of being as of appearance. We -cannot, indeed, ascribe to the given any true and essential being _per -se_, it is not _per se_ alone, but only on, or in, or through something -other. _The truly being_ is an absolute being, which as such excludes -every thing relative and dependent; it is _absolute position_, which it -is not for us first to posit, but only to recognize. In so far as this -being is attributed to any thing, this latter possesses reality. The -truly being is, therefore, ever a _quale_, a something which is -considered as being. In order now that this posited may correspond to -the conditions which lie in the conception of absolute position, the -_what_ of the real must be thought (_a_) as absolutely positive or -affirmative, _i. e._ without any negation or limitation, which might -destroy again the absoluteness; (_b_) as absolutely simple, _i. e._ in -no way, as a multiplicity or admitting of inner antitheses; (_c_) as -indeterminate by any conceptions of greatness, _i. e._ not as a quantum -which may be divided and extended in time and space; hence, also, not as -a constant greatness or continuity. But we must never forget that this -being or this absolute reality is not simply something thought, but is -something independent and resting on itself, and hence it is simply to -be recognized by the thinking. The conception of this thinking lies at -the basis of all Herbart's metaphysics. Take an example of this. The -first problem to be solved in metaphysics is the problem of inherence, -or the thing with its characteristics. Every perceptible thing -represents itself to the senses as a complex of several characteristics. -But all the attributes of a thing which are given in perception are -relative. We say _e. g._ that sound is a property of a certain body. It -sounds--but it cannot-do this without air; what now becomes of this -property in a space without air? Again, we say that a body is heavy, but -it is only so on the earth. Or again, that a body is colored, but light -is necessary for this; what now becomes of such a property in darkness? -Still farther, a multiplicity of properties is incompatible with the -unity of an object. If you ask _what_ is this thing, you are answered -with the sum of its characteristics; it is soft, white, full-sounding, -heavy,--but your question was of one, not of many. The answer only -affirms what the thing has, not what it is. Moreover, the list of -characteristics is always incomplete. The what of a thing can therefore -lie neither in the individual given properties, nor in their unity. In -determining what a thing is, we have only this answer remaining, viz., -the thing is that unknown, which we must posit before we can posit any -thing as lying in the given properties; in a word, it is the substance. -For if, in order to see what the thing purely and essentially is, we -take away the characteristics which it may have, we find that nothing -more remains, and we perceive that what we considered as the real thing -was only a complex of characteristics, and the union of these in one -whole. But since every appearance indicates a definite reality, and thus -since there must be as much reality as there is appearance, we have to -consider the reality, which lies at the basis of the thing, with its -characteristics, as a complex of many simple substances or monads, and -whose quality is different in different instances. When our experience -has led us to a repeated grouping together of these monads, we call the -group a thing. Let us now briefly look at the formation of those -fundamental conceptions of metaphysics, which involve the same thoughts -through the fundamental conception of being. First, there is the -conception of causality, which cannot be maintained in its ordinary -form. All that we can perceive in the act is succession in time, and not -the necessary connection of cause with effect. The cause in itself can -be neither transcendent nor immanent; it cannot be transcendent, because -a real influence of one real thing upon another, contradicts the -conception of the absolute reality; nor immanent, for then the substance -must be thought as one with its characteristics, which contradicts the -investigations concerning a thing with its characteristics. We can just -as little find in the conception of the real an answer to the question, -how one determinate being can be brought into contact with another, for -the real is the absolute unchangeable. We can therefore only explain the -conception of causality on the ground that the different reals which lie -at the basis of the characteristics are conceived, each one for itself, -as cause of the phenomenon, there being just as many causes as there are -phenomena. The problem of change, is intimately connected with the -conception of cause. Since, however, according to Herbart, there is no -inner change, no self-determination, no becoming and no life; since the -monads are, and remain in themselves unchangeable, they do not therefore -_become_ different in respect of quality, but they _are_ originally -different one from another, and each one exhibits its equality without -ever any change. The problem of change can thus only be solved through -the theory of the disturbance and self-preservation of these essences. -But if that which we call not simply an apparent but an actual event, in -the essence of the monads, may be reduced to a "self-preservation," as -the last gleam of an activity and life, still we have the question ever -remaining, how to explain the appearance of change. For this it is -necessary to bring in two auxiliary conceptions; first, that of -accidental views, and second, that of intellectual spaces. The -accidental views, an expression taken from mathematics, signify, in -reference to the problem before us this much, viz., one and the same -conception may often be considered in very different relations to some -other essence, without the slightest change in its own essence, _e. g._ -a straight line may be considered as radius or as tangent, and a tone as -harmonious or discordant. By help of these accidental views, we may now -regard that which actually results in the monad, when other monads, -opposite in quality, come in contact with it, as on the one side an -actual occurrence, though on the other side, no actual change can be -imputed to the original condition of the monads (a gray color, _e. g._ -seems comparatively white by the side of black, and comparatively black -by the side of white, without changing at all its quality). A further -auxiliary conception is that of intellectual space, which, arises when -we must consider these essences as at the same time together and not -together. By means of this conception we can eliminate the -contradictions from the conception of movement. Lastly, it can be seen -that the conception of matter and that of the Ego (in psychologically -explaining which, the rest of the metaphysics is occupied) are, like the -preceding ones, no less contradictory in themselves than they are -irreconcilable with the fundamental conception of the real; for neither -can an extended being, like matter, be formed out of spaceless -monads--and with matter, therefore, fall also the ordinary conceptions of -space and time--nor can we admit, without transformation, the conception -of the Ego, since it exhibits the contradictory conception of a thing -with many and changing characteristics (conditions, powers, faculties, -&c.) - -We are reminded by Herbart's "_reals_" of the atomic theory of the -atomists (_cf._ § IX. 2), of the Eleatic theory of the one being (_cf._ -§ VI.), and of Leibnitz's monadology. His reals however are -distinguished from the atoms by not possessing impenetrability. The -monads of Herbart may be just as well represented in the same space as a -mathematical point may be conceived as accurately coexisting with -another in the same place. In this respect the "real" of Herbart has a -far greater similarity to the "one" of the Eleatics. Both are simple, -and to be conceived in intellectual spaces, but the essential difference -is, that Herbart's substances exist in numbers distinct from one -another, and even from opposites among themselves. Herbart's simple -quantities have already been compared to the monads of Leibnitz, but -these latter have essentially a power of representation; they are -essences with inner circumstances, while, according to Herbart, -representation, just as little as every other circumstance, belongs to -the essence itself. - -5. PSYCHOLOGY is connected with metaphysics. The Ego is primarily a -metaphysical problem, and comes in this respect under the category of -the thing with its characteristics. It is a real with many properties -changing circumstances, powers, faculties, activities, &c., and thus is -not without contradictions. But then the Ego is a psychological -principle, and here those contradictions may be considered which lie in -the ideality of subject and object. The subject posits itself and is -therefore itself object. But this posited object is nothing other than -the positing subject. Thus the Ego is, as Fichte says, subject-object, -and, as such, full of the hardest contradictions, for subject and object -will never be affirmed as one and the same without contradiction. But -now if the Ego is given it cannot be thrown away, but must be purified -from its contradictions. This occurs whenever the Ego is conceived as -that which represents, and the different sensations, thoughts, &c. are -embraced under the common conception of changing appearance. The -solution of this problem is similar to that of inherence. As in the -latter problem the thing was apprehended as a complex of as many reals -as it has characteristics, just so here the Ego; but with the Ego inner -circumstances and representations correspond to the characteristics. -Thus that which we are accustomed to name Ego is nothing other than the -soul. The soul as a monad, as absolutely being, is therefore simple, -eternal, indissoluble, from which we may conclude its eternal existence. -From this standpoint Herbart combats the ordinary course of psychology -which ascribes certain powers and faculties to the soul. That which -stands out in the soul is nothing other than self-preservation, which -can only be manifold and changing in opposition to other reals. The -causes of changing circumstances are therefore these other reals, which -come variously in conflict with the soul-monad, and thus produce that -apparently infinite manifoldness of sensations, representations, and -affections. This theory of self-preservation lies at the basis of all -Herbart's psychology. That which psychology ordinarily calls feeling, -thinking, representing, &c., are only specific differences in the -self-preservation of the soul; they indicate no proper condition of the -inner real essence itself, but only relations between the reals, -relations, which, coming up together at the same time from different -sides, are partly suppressed, partly forwarded, and partly modified. -Consciousness is the sum of those relations in which the soul stands to -other essences. But the relations to the objects, and hence to the -representations corresponding to these, are not all equally strong; one -presses, restricts, and obscures another, a relation of equilibrium -which can be calculated according to the doctrine of statics. But the -suppressed representations do not wholly disappear, but waiting on the -threshold of consciousness for the favorable moment when they shall be -permitted again to arise, they join themselves with kindred -representations, and press forward with united energies. This movement -of the representations (sketched in a masterly manner by Herbart) may be -calculated according to the rules of mathematics, and this is Herbart's -well known application of mathematics to the empirical theory of the -soul. The representations which were pressed back, which wait on the -threshold of consciousness and only work in the darkness, and of which -we are only half conscious, are feelings. They express themselves as -desires, according as their struggle forward is more or less successful. -Desire becomes will when united with the hope of success. The will is no -separate faculty of the mind, but consists only in the relation of the -dominant representations to the others. The power of deciding and the -character of a man, prominently depend upon the constant presence in the -consciousness of a certain number of representations, while other -representations are weakened, or denied an entrance over the threshold -of consciousness. - -6. THE IMPORTANCE OF HERBART'S PHILOSOPHY.--Herbart's philosophy is -important mainly for its metaphysics and psychology. In the other -spheres and activities of the human mind, _e. g._ rights, morality, the -state, art, religion, his philosophy is mostly barren of results, and -though there are not wanting here striking observations, yet these have -no connection with the speculative principles of the system. Herbart -fundamentally isolates the different philosophical sciences, -distinguishing especially and in the strictest manner between -theoretical and practical philosophy. He charges the effort after unity -in philosophy, with occasioning the greatest errors; for logical, -metaphysical, and æsthetic forms are entirely diverse. Ethics and -æsthetics have to do with objects in which an immediate evidence -appears, but this is foreign to the whole nature of metaphysics, which -can only gain its knowledge as errors have been removed. Æsthetic -judgments on which practical philosophy rests, are independent of the -reality of any object, and appear with immediate certainty in the midst -of the strongest metaphysical doubts. Moral elements, says Herbart, are -pleasing and displeasing relations of the will. He thus grounds the -whole practical philosophy upon æsthetic judgments. The æsthetic -judgment is an involuntary and immediate judgment, which attaches to -certain objects, without proof, the predicates of goodness and -badness.--Here is seen the greatest difference between Herbart and Kant. - -We may characterize, on the whole, the philosophy of Herbart as a -carrying out of the monadology of Leibnitz, full of enduring acuteness, -but without any inner fruitfulness or capacity of development. - - - - -SECTION XLIII. - -SCHELLING. - - -_Schelling_ sprang from _Fichte_. We may pass on to an exposition of his -philosophy without any farther introduction, since that which it -contains from Fichte forms a part of its historical development, and -will therefore be treated of as this is unfolded. - -Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph _Schelling_ was born at Leonberg, in -Würtemberg, January 27th, 1775. With a very precocious development, he -entered the theological seminary at Tübingen in his fifteenth year, and -devoted himself partly to philology and mythology, but especially to -Kant's philosophy. During his course as a student, he was in personal -connection with Hölderlin and Hegel. Schelling came before the world as -an author very early. In 1792 appeared his graduating treatise on the -third chapter of Genesis, in which he gave an interesting philosophical -signification to the Mosaic account of the fall. In the following year, -1793, he published in _Paulus'_ Memorabilia an essay of a kindred nature -"_On the Myths and Philosophemes of the Ancient World_." To the last -year of his abode at Tübingen belong the two philosophical writings: -"_On the Possibility of a Form for Philosophy_" and "_On the Ego as a -Principle of Philosophy, or on the Unconditioned in Human Knowledge_." -After completing his university studies, Schelling went to Leipsic as -tutor to the Baron von Riedesel, but soon afterwards repaired to Jena, -where he became the pupil and co-laborer of Fichte. After Fichte's -departure from Jena, he became himself, 1798, teacher of philosophy -there, and now began, removing himself from Fichte's standpoint, to -develope more and more his own peculiar views. He published in Jena the -_Journal of Speculative Physics_, and also in company with Hegel, _the -Critical Journal_. In the year 1803 he went to Würzburg as professor -_ordinarius_ of philosophy. In 1807 he repaired to Munich as member -_ordinarius_ of the newly established academy of sciences there. The -year after he became general secretary of the Academy of the plastic -arts, and subsequently, when the university professorship was -established at Munich, he became its incumbent. After the death of -Jacobi, he was chosen president of the Munich Academy. In 1841 he -removed to Berlin, where he has sometimes held lectures. For the last -ten years Schelling has written nothing of importance, although he has -repeatedly promised an exposition of his present system. By far the -greater portion of his writings belongs to his early life. Schelling's -philosophy is no completed system of which his separate works are the -constituent elements; but, like Plato's, it has a historical -development, a course of formative steps which the philosopher has -passed through in his own life. Instead of systematically elaborating -the separate sciences from the standpoint of his principle, Schelling -has gone back repeatedly to the beginning again, seeking ever for new -foundations and new standpoints, connecting these for the most part -(like Plato) with some antecedent philosophemes, (Fichte, Spinoza, New -Platonism, Leibnitz, Jacob Boehme, Gnosticism,) which in their order he -attempted to interweave with his system. We must modify accordingly our -exposition of Schelling's Philosophy, and take up its different periods, -separated according to the different groups of his writings.[4] - -I. FIRST PERIOD. SCHELLING'S PROCESSION FROM FICHTE. - -Schelling's starting point was Fichte, whom he decidedly followed in his -earliest writings. In his essay, "_On the Possibility of a Form of -Philosophy_" he shows the necessity of that supreme principle which -Fichte had first propounded. In his essay, "_On the Ego_" Schelling -shows that the ultimate ground of our knowledge can only lie in the Ego, -and hence that every true philosophy must be idealism. If our knowledge -shall possess reality, there must be one point in which ideality and -reality, thought and being, can identically coincide; and if outside of -our knowledge, there were something higher which conditioned it, if -itself were not the highest, then it could not be absolute. Fichte -regarded this essay as a commentary on his _Theory of Science_; yet it -contains already indications of Schelling's subsequent standpoint, in -its expressly affirming the unity of all knowledge, the necessity that -in the end all the different sciences shall become merged into one. In -the "_Letters on Dogmatism and Criticism_," 1795, Schelling combatted -the notions of those Kantians who had left the critical and idealistic -standpoint of their master, and fallen back again into the old -dogmatism. It was also on the standpoint of Fichte that Schelling -published in Niethammer's and Fichte's Journal, 1797-98, a series of -articles, in which he gave a survey of the recent philosophical -literature. Here he begins to turn his attention towards a philosophical -deduction of nature, though he still remains on the standpoint of Fichte -when he deduces nature wholly from the essence of the Ego. In the essay -which was composed soon after, and entitled "_Ideas for a philosophy of -Nature_," 1797, and the one "_On the World-soul_," 1798, he gradually -unfolded more clearly his views. The chief points which are brought out -in the two last named essays are the following: The first origin of the -conception of matter springs from nature and the intuition of the human -mind. The mind is the union of an unlimited and a limiting energy. If -there were no limit to the mind, consciousness would be just as -impossible as if the mind were totally and absolutely limited. Feeling, -perception and knowledge are only conceivable, as the energy which -strives for the unlimited becomes limited through its opposite, and as -this latter becomes itself freed from its limitations. The actual mind -or heart consists only in the antagonism of these two energies, and -hence only in their ever approximate or relative unity. Just so is it in -nature. Matter as such is not the first, for the forces of which it is -the unity are before it. Matter is only to be apprehended as the ever -becoming product of attraction and repulsion; it is not, therefore, a -mere inert grossness, as we are apt to represent it, but these forces -are its original. But force in the material is like something -immaterial. Force in nature is that which we may compare to mind. Since -now the mind or heart exhibits precisely the same conflict, as matter, -of opposite forces, we must unite the two in a higher identity. But the -organ of the mind for apprehending nature is the intuition which takes, -as object of the external sense, the space which has been filled and -limited by the attracting and repelling forces. Thus Schelling was led -to the conclusion that _the same absolute_ appears in nature as in mind, -and that the harmony of these is something more than a thought in -reference to them. "Or if you affirm that we only _carry over_ such an -idea to nature, then have you utterly failed to apprehend the only -nature which there can be to us. For our view of nature is not that it -accidentally meets the laws of our mind--(perhaps through the mediation -of a third)--but that it necessarily and originally not only expresses, -but itself realizes, the laws of our mind, and that it is nature, and is -called such only in so far as it does this." "Nature should be the -visible mind, and mind invisible nature. Here, therefore, in the -absolute ideality of the mind _within_ us, and nature _without_ us, must -we solve the problem how it is possible for a nature outside of us to -be." This thought, that nature or matter is just as much the actual -unity of an attracting and a repelling force, as the mind or heart is -the unity of an unlimited and a limiting tendency, and that the -repelling force in matter corresponds to the positive or unlimited -activity of the mind, while the attracting force corresponds to the -mind's negative or limiting activity--this identical deduction of matter -from the essence of the Ego, is very prominent in all that Schelling -wrote upon natural philosophy during this period. Nature thus appears as -a copy (_Doppelbild_) of the mind, which the mind itself produces, in -order to return, by its means, to pure self-intuition, to -self-consciousness. Hence we have the successive stages of nature, in -which all the stations of the mind in its way to self-consciousness are -externally established. It is especially in the organic world that the -mind can behold its own self-production. Hence, in every thing organic, -there is something symbolical, every plant bears some feature of the -soul. The chief characteristics of an organic formation,--the -self-forming process from within outwards, the conformity to some end, -the change of interpenetration of form and matter--are equally chief -features of the mind. Since now there exists in our mind an endless -striving to organize itself, so there must also be manifested in the -external world a universal tendency to organization. The whole universe -may thus be called a kind of organization which has formed itself from a -centre, rising ever from a lower to a higher stage. From such a point of -view, the natural philosopher will make it his chief effort to bring to -a unity in his contemplations that life of nature, which by many -researches into physical science had been separated into numberless -different powers. "It is a needless trouble which many have given -themselves, to show how very different is the working of fire and -electricity, for every one knows this who has ever seen or heard of the -two. But our mind strives after unity in the system of its knowledge; it -will not endure that there should be pressed upon it a separate -principle for every single phenomenon, and it will only believe that it -sees nature where it can discover the greatest simplicity of laws in the -greatest multiplicity of phenomena, and the highest frugality of means -in the highest prodigality of effects. Therefore, every thought, even -that which is now rough and crude, merits attention so soon as it tends -towards the simplifying of principles, and if it serves no other end, it -at least strengthens the impulse to investigate and trace out the hidden -process of nature." The special tendency of the scientific investigation -of nature which prevailed at that time, was to make a duality of forces -the predominant element in the life of nature. In mechanics, the Kantian -theory of the opposition of attraction and repulsion was adopted; in -chemistry, by apprehending electricity as positive and negative, its -phenomenon was brought near that of magnetism; in physiology there was -the opposition of irritability and sensibility, &c. In opposition to -these dualities, Schelling now insisted upon the unity of every thing -opposite, the unity of all dualities, and this not simply as an abstract -unity, but as a concrete identity, as the harmonious co-working of the -heterogeneous. The world is the actual unity of a positive and a -negative principle, "and these two conflicting forces taken together, or -represented in their conflict, lead to the idea of an organizing -principle which makes of the world a system, in other words, to the idea -of a world-soul." - -In his above-cited essay on "_the world-soul_," Schelling took the great -step forward of apprehending nature as entirely autonomic. In the -world-soul nature has a peculiar principle which dwells within it, and -works according to conception. In this way the objective world was -recognized as the independent life of nature in a manner which the -logical idealism of Fichte would not permit. Schelling proceeded still -farther in this direction, and distinguished definitely, as the two -sides of philosophy, the philosophy of nature and a transcendental -philosophy. By placing a philosophy of nature by the side of idealism, -Schelling passed decidedly beyond the standpoint of science, and we thus -enter a second stadium of his philosophizing, though his method still -remained that of Fichte, and he continued to believe that he was -speculating in the spirit of the _Theory of Science_. - -II. SECOND PERIOD. STANDPOINT OF THE DISTINGUISHING BETWEEN THE -PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE AND OF MIND. - -This standpoint of Schelling is chiefly carried out in the following -works:--"_First Draft of a System of Natural Philosophy_," 1799; an -introduction to this, 1799; articles in the "_Journal of Speculative -Physics_," 1800, 1801; "_System of Transcendental Idealism_," 1800. -Schelling thus distinguishes the two sides of philosophy. All knowledge -rests upon the harmony of a subject with an object. That which is simply -objective is natural, and that which is simply subjective is the Ego or -intelligence. There are two possible ways of uniting these two sides: we -may either make nature first, and inquire how it is that intelligence is -associated with it (natural philosophy); or we may make the subject -first, and inquire how do objects proceed from the subject -(transcendental philosophy). The end of all philosophy must be to make -either an intelligence out of nature, or a nature out of intelligence. -As the transcendental philosophy has to subject the real to the ideal, -so must natural philosophy attempt to explain the ideal from the real. -Both, however, are only the two poles of one and the same knowledge -which reciprocally attract each other; hence, if we start from either -pole, we are necessarily drawn towards the other. - -1. NATURAL PHILOSOPHY.--To philosophize concerning nature is, in a -certain sense, to create nature--to raise it from the dead mechanism in -which it had seemed confined, to inspire it with freedom, and transpose -it into a properly free development. And what, then, is matter, other -than mind which has become extinct? According to this view, since nature -is only the visible organism of our understanding, it can produce -nothing but what is conformable to a rule and an end. But you radically -destroy every idea of nature just so soon as you allow its design to -have come to it from without, by passing over from the understanding of -any being. The complete exhibition of the intellectual world in the laws -and forms of the phenomenal world, and, on the other hand, the complete -conception of these laws and forms from the intellectual world, and -therefore the exhibition of the ideality of nature with the ideal world, -is the work of natural philosophy. Immediate experience is indeed its -starting point; we know originally nothing except through experience; -but just as soon as I gain an insight into the inner necessity of a -principle of experience, it becomes a principle apriori. Natural -philosophy is empiricism extended until it becomes absolute. - -Schelling expresses himself as follows, concerning the chief principles -of a philosophy of nature. Nature is a suspension (_Schweben_) between -productivity and product, which is always passing over into definite -forms and products, just as it is always productively passing beyond -these. This suspension indicates a duality of principles, through which -nature is held in a constant activity, and hindered from exhausting -itself in its products. A universal duality is thus the principle of -every explanation of nature; it is the first principle of a philosophic -theory of nature, to end in all nature with polarity and dualism. On the -other hand, the final cause of all our contemplation of nature is to -know that absolute unity which comprehends the whole, and which suffers -only one side of itself to be known in nature. Nature is, as it were, -the instrument of this absolute unity, through which it eternally -executes and actualizes that which is prefigured in the absolute -understanding. The whole absolute is therefore cognizable in nature, -though phenomenal nature only exhibits in a succession, and produces in -an endless development, that which the true or real nature eternally -possesses. Schelling treats of natural philosophy in three sections: (1) -the proof that nature, in its original products, is _organic_; (2) the -conditions of an _inorganic_ nature; (3) the reciprocal determination of -organic and inorganic nature. - -(1.) _Organic nature_ Schelling thus deduces: Nature absolutely -apprehended is nothing other than infinite activity, infinite -productivity. If this were unhindered in expressing itself, it would at -once, with infinite celerity, produce an absolute product, which would -allow no explanation for empirical nature. If this latter may be -explained--if there may be finite products, we must consider the -productive activity of nature as restrained by an opposite, a retarding -activity, which lies in nature itself. Thus arises a series of finite -products. But since the absolute productivity of nature tends towards an -absolute product, these individual products are only apparent ones, -beyond each one of which nature herself advances, in order to satisfy -the absoluteness of her inner productivity through an infinite series of -individual products. In this eternal producing of finite products, -nature shows itself as a living antagonism of two opposite forces, a -productive and a retarding tendency. And, indeed, the working of this -latter is infinitely manifold; the original productive impulse of nature -has not only to combat a simple restraint, but it must struggle with an -infinity of reactions, which may be called original qualities. Hence -every organic being is the permanent expression for a conflict of -reciprocally destroying and limiting actions of nature. And from this, -viz., from the original limitation and infinite restraint of the -formative impulse of nature, we see the reason why every organization, -instead of attaining to an absolute product, only reproduces itself _ad -infinitum_. Upon this rests the special significance for the organic -world, of the distinction of sex. The distinction of sex fixes the -organic products of nature, it restrains them within their own processes -of development, and suffers them only to produce the same again. But in -this production nature has no regard for the individual, but only for -the species. The individual is contrary to nature; nature desires the -absolute, and its constant effort is to represent this. Individual -products, therefore, in which the activity of nature is brought to a -stand, can only be regarded as abortive attempts to represent the -absolute. Hence the individual must be the means, and the species the -end of nature. Just so soon as the species is secured, nature abandons -the individuals and labors for their destruction. Schelling divides the -dynamic scale of organic nature according to the three grand functions -of the organic world: (_a_) Formative impulse (reproductive energy); -(_b_) Irritability; (_c_) Sensibility. Highest in rank are those -organisms in which sensibility has the preponderance over irritability; -a lower rank is held by those where irritability preponderates, and -lower still are those where reproduction first comes out in its entire -perfection, while sensibility and irritability are almost extinct. Yet -these three powers are interwoven together in all nature, and hence -there is but one organization, descending through all nature from man to -the plant. - -(2.) _Inorganic nature_ offers the antithesis to organic. The existence -and essence of inorganic nature are conditioned through the existence -and essence of organic nature. While the powers of organic nature are -productive, those of inorganic nature are not productive. While organic -nature aims only to establish the species, inorganic nature regards only -the individual, and offers no reproduction of the species through the -individual. It possesses a great multitude of materials, but can only -use these materials in the way of conjoining or separating. In a word, -inorganic nature is simply a mass held together by some external cause -as gravity. Yet it, like organic nature, has its gradations. The power -of reproduction in the latter has its counterpart in the chemical -process in the former; that which in the one case is irritability, in -the other is electricity; and sensibility, which is the highest stage of -organic life, corresponds to the universal magnetism, the highest stage -of the inorganic. - -(3.) _The reciprocal determination of the organic and inorganic world_, -is made clear by what has already been said. The result to which every -genuine philosophy of nature must come, is that the distinction between -organic and inorganic nature is only in nature as object, and that -nature, as originally productive, waves over both. If the functions of -an organism are only possible on the condition that there is a definite -external world, and an organic world, then must the external world and -the organic world have a common origin. This can only be explained on -the ground that inorganic nature presupposes in order to its existence a -higher dynamical order of things, to which it is subject. There must be -a third, which can unite again organic and inorganic nature; which can -be a medium, holding the continuity between the two. Both must be -identified in some ultimate cause, through which, as through one common -soul of nature (world-soul), both the organic and inorganic, _i. e._ -universal nature, is inspired; in some common principle, which, -fluctuating between inorganic and organic nature, and maintaining the -continuity of the two, contains the first cause of all changes in the -one, and the ultimate ground of all activity in the other. We have here -the idea of a universal organism. That it is one and the same -organization which unites in one the organic and inorganic world, would -appear from what has already been said of the parallel gradations of the -two worlds. That which in universal nature is the cause of magnetism, is -in organic nature the cause of sensibility, and the latter is only a -higher potency of the former. Just as in the organic world through -sensibility, so in universal nature through magnetism, there arises a -duality from the ideality. In this way organic nature appears only as a -higher stage of the inorganic; the very same dualism which is seen in -magnetic polarity, electrical phenomena, and chemical differences, -displays itself also in the organic world. - -2. TRANSCENDENTAL PHILOSOPHY.--Transcendental philosophy is the -philosophy of nature become subjective. The whole succession of objects -thus far described, becomes now repeated as a successive development of -the beholding subject. It is the peculiarity of transcendental idealism, -that so soon as it is once admitted, it requires that the origin of all -knowledge shall be sought for anew; that the truth which has long been -considered as established, should be subjected to a new examination, and -that this examination should proceed under at least an entirely new -form. All parts of philosophy must be exhibited in one continuity, and -the whole of philosophy must be regarded as that which it is, viz., the -advancing history of consciousness, which can use only as monuments or -documents that which is laid down in experience. (Schelling's -transcendental idealism is, in this respect, the forerunner to Hegel's -_Phoenomenology_, which pursues a similar course). The exhibition of this -connection is properly a succession of intuitions through which the Ego -raises itself to consciousness in the highest potency. Neither -transcendental philosophy nor the philosophy of nature, can alone -represent the parallelism between nature and intelligence; but, in order -to this, both sciences must be united, the former being considered as a -necessary counterpart to the other. The division of transcendental -philosophy follows from its problem, to seek anew the origin of all -knowledge, and to subject to a new examination every previous judgment -which had been held to be established truth. The pre-judgments of the -common understanding are principally two: (1) That a world of objects -exist independent of, and outside of, ourselves, and are represented to -us just as they are. To explain this pre-judgment, is the problem of the -first part of the transcendental philosophy (_theoretical philosophy_). -(2) That we can produce an effect upon the objective world according to -representations which arise freely within us. The solution of this -problem is _practical philosophy_. But, with these two problems we find -ourselves entangled, (3) in a contradiction. How is it possible that our -thought should ever rule over the world of sense, if the representation -is conditional in its origin by the objective? The solution of this -problem, which is the highest of transcendental philosophy, is the -answer to the question: how can the representations be conceived as -directing themselves according to the objects, and at the same time the -objects be conceived as directing themselves according to the -representations? This is only conceivable on the ground that the -activity through which the objective world is produced, is originally -identical with that which utters itself in the will. To show this -identity of conscious and unconscious activity, is the problem of the -third part of transcendental philosophy, or the science of ends in -nature and of art. The three parts of the transcendental philosophy -correspond thus entirely to the three criticks of Kant. - -(1.) _The theoretical philosophy_ starts from the highest principle of -knowledge, the self-consciousness, and from this point developes the -history of self-consciousness, according to its most prominent epochs -and stations, viz., sensation, intuition, productive intuition (which -produces matter)--outer and inner intuition (from which space and time, -and all Kant's categories may be derived), abstraction (by which the -intelligence distinguishes itself from its products)--absolute -abstraction, or absolute act of will. With the act of the will there is -spread before us, - -(2.) _The Field of Practical Philosophy._--In practical philosophy the -Ego is no longer beholding, _i. e._ consciousless, but is consciously -producing, _i. e._ realizing. As a whole, nature developes itself from -the original act of self-consciousness, so from the second act, or the -act of free self-determination, there is produced a second nature, to -find the origin for which is the object of practical philosophy. In his -exposition of the practical philosophy, Schelling follows almost wholly -the theory of Fichte, but closes this section with some remarkable -expressions respecting the philosophy of history. History, as a whole, -is, according to him, a gradual and self-disclosing revelation of the -absolute, a progressing demonstration of the existence of a God. The -history of this revelation may be divided into three periods. The first -is that in which the overruling power was apprehended only as destiny, -_i. e._ as a blind power, cold and consciousless, which brings the -greatest and most glorious things of earth to ruin; it is marked by the -decay of the magnificence and wonders of the ancient world, and the fall -of the noblest manhood that has ever bloomed. The second period of -history is that in which this destiny manifests itself as nature, and -the hidden law seems changed into a manifest law of nature, which -compels freedom and every choice to submit to and serve a plan of -nature. This period seems to begin with the spread of the great Roman -republic. The third period will be that where what has previously been -regarded as destiny and nature, will develope itself as Providence. When -this period shall begin, we cannot say; we can only affirm that if it -be, then God will be seen also to be. - -(3.) _Philosophy of Art._--The problem of transcendental philosophy is to -harmonize the subjective and the objective. In history, with which -practical philosophy closes, the identity of the two is not exhibited, -but only approximated in an infinite progress. But now the Ego must -attain a position where it can actually look upon this identity, which -constitutes its inner essence. If now all conscious activity exhibits -design, then a conscious and consciousless activity can only coincide in -a product, which, though it exhibits design, was yet produced without -design. Such a product is nature; we have here the principle of all -_teleology_, in which alone the solution of the given problem can be -sought. The peculiarity of nature is this, viz., that though it exhibits -itself as nothing but a blind mechanism, it yet displays design, and -represents an identity of the conscious subjective, and the -consciousless objective activity; in it the Ego beholds its own most -peculiar essence, which consists alone in this identity. But in nature -the Ego beholds this identity, not as something objective, which has a -being only outside of it, but also as that whose principle lies within -the Ego itself. This beholding is the art-intuition. As the production -of nature is consciousless, though similar to that which is conscious, -so the æsthetic production of the artist is a conscious production, -similar to that which is consciousless. _Æsthetics_ must therefore be -joined to teleology. That contradiction between the conscious and the -consciousless, which moves forward untiringly in history, and which is -unconsciously reconciled in nature, finds its conscious reconciliation -in a work of art. In a work of art, the intelligence attains a perfect -intuition of itself. The feeling which accompanies this intuition, is -the feeling of an endless satisfaction; all contradictions being -resolved, and every riddle explained. The unknown, which unexpectedly -harmonizes the objective and the conscious activity, is nothing other -than that absolute and unchangeable identity, to which every existence -must be referred. In the artist it lays aside the veil, which elsewhere -surrounds it, and irresistibly impels him to complete his work. Thus -there is no other eternal revelation but art, and this is also the -miracle which should convince us of the reality of that supreme, which -is never itself objective, but is the cause of all objective. Hence art -holds a higher rank than philosophy, for only in art has the -intellectual intuition objectivity. There is nothing, therefore, higher -to the philosopher than art, because this opens before him, as it were, -the holy of holies, where that which is separate in nature and history, -and which in life and action, as in thought, must ever diverge, burns, -as it were, in one flame, in an eternal and original union. From this we -see also both the fact and the reason for it, that philosophy, as -philosophy, can never be universally valid. Art is that alone to which -is given, an absolute objectivity, and it is through this alone that -nature, consciously productive, concludes and completes itself within -itself. - -The "_Transcendental Idealism_" is the last work which Schelling wrote -after the method of Fichte. In its principle he goes decidedly beyond -the standpoint of Fichte. That which was with Fichte the inconceivable -limit of the Ego, Schelling derives as a necessary duality, from the -simple essence of the Ego. While Fichte had regarded the union of -subject and object, only as an infinite progression towards that which -ought to be, Schelling looked upon it as actually accomplished in a work -of art. With Fichte God was apprehended only as the object of a moral -faith, but with Schelling he was looked upon as the immediate object of -the æsthetic intuition. This difference between the two could not long -be concealed from Schelling. He was obliged to see that he no longer -stood upon the basis of subjective idealism, but that his real position -was that of objective idealism. If he had already gone beyond Fichte in -setting the philosophy of nature and transcendental philosophy opposite -to each other, it was perfectly consistent for him now to go one step -farther, and, placing himself on the point of indifference between the -two, make the identity of the ideal and the real, of thought and being, -as his principle. This principle _Spinoza_ had already possessed before -him. To this philosophy of identity Schelling now found himself -peculiarly attracted. Instead of following Fichte's method, he now -availed himself of that of Spinoza, the mathematical, to which he -ascribed the greatest evidence of proof. - -III. THIRD PERIOD: PERIOD OF SPINOZISM, OR THE INDIFFERENCE OF THE IDEAL -AND THE REAL. - -The principal writings of this period are:--"_Exposition of my System of -Philosophy_" (Journal for Speculative Physics, ii. 2); the second -edition, with additions, of the "_Ideas for a Philosophy of Nature_" -1803; the dialogue, "_Bruno, or concerning the Divine and the Natural -Principle of Things_" 1802; "_Lectures on the Method of Academical -Study_," 1803; three numbers of a "_New Journal for Speculative -Physics_," 1802-3. The characteristic of the new standpoint of -Schelling, to which we now arrive, is perfectly exhibited in the -definition of reason, which he places at the head of the first of the -above-named writings; I give to reason the name absolute, or the reason -in so far as it is conceived as the total _indifference of the -subjective and the objective_. To think of reason is demanded of every -man; to think of it as absolute, and thus to reach the standpoint which -I require, every thing must be abstracted from the thinking subject. To -him who makes this abstraction, reason immediately ceases to be -something subjective, as most men represent it; neither can it be -conceived as something objective, since an objective, or that which is -thought, is only possible in opposition to that which thinks. We thus -rise through this abstraction to the reality of things (_zum wahren -an-sich_), which reality is precisely in the indifference point of the -subjective and the objective. The standpoint of philosophy is the -standpoint of reason; its knowledge is a knowledge of things as they are -in themselves, _i. e._ as they are in the reason. It is the nature of -philosophy to destroy every distinction which the imagination has -mingled with the thinking, and to see in things only that through which -they express the absolute reason, not regarding in them that which is -simply an object for that reflection which expends itself on the laws of -mechanism and in time. Besides reason there is nothing, and in it is -every thing. Reason is the absolute. All objections to this principle -can only arise from the fact, that men are in the habit of looking at -things not as they are in reason, but as they appear. Every thing which -is, is in essence like the reason, and is one with it. It is not the -reason which posits something external to itself, but only the false use -of reason, which is connected with the incapacity of forgetting the -subjective in itself. The reason is absolutely _one_ and like itself. -The highest law for the being of reason, and since there is nothing -besides reason, the highest law for all being, is the law of identity. -Between subject and object therefore--since it is one and the same -absolute identity which displays itself in both--there can be no -difference except a _quantitative_ difference (a difference of more or -less), so that nothing is either simple object or simple subject, but in -all things subject and object are united, this union being in different -proportions, so that sometimes the subject and sometimes the object has -the preponderance. But since the absolute is pure identity of subject -and object, there can be no quantitative difference except outside of -the identity, _i. e._ in the finite. As the fundamental form of the -Infinite is A = A, so the scheme of the finite is A = B (_i. e._ the -union of a subjective with another objective in a different proportion). -But, in reality, nothing is finite, because the identity is the only -reality. So far as there is difference in individual things, the -identity exists in the form of indifference. If we could see together -every thing which is, we should find in all the pure identity, because -we should find in all a perfect quantitative equilibrium of subjectivity -and objectivity. True, we find, in looking at individual objects, that -sometimes the preponderance is on one side and sometimes on the other, -but in the whole this is compensated. The absolute identity is the -absolute totality, the universe itself. There is in reality (_an-sich_) -no individual being or thing. There is in reality nothing beyond the -totality; and if any thing beyond this is beheld, this can only happen -by virtue of arbitrary separation of the individual from the whole, -which is done through reflection, and is the source of every error. The -absolute identity is essentially the same in every part of the universe. -Hence the universe may be conceived under the figure of a line, in the -centre of which is the A=A, while at the end on one side is [+A] = B, _i. -e._ a transcendence of the subjective, and at the end on the other side -is A = [+B], _i. e._ a transcendence of the objective, though this must -be conceived so that a relative identity may exist even in these -extremes. The one side is the real or nature, the other side is the -ideal. The real side developes itself according to three potences (a -potence, or power, indicates a definite quantitative difference of -subjectivity and objectivity). (1) The first potence is matter and -weight--the greatest preponderance of the object. (2) The second potence -is light (A^2), an inner--as weight is an outer--intuition of nature. The -light is a higher rising of the subjective. It is the absolute identity -itself. (3) The third potence is organism (A^3), the common product of -light and weight. Organism is just as original as matter. Inorganic -nature, as such, does not exist: it is actually organized, and is, as it -were, the universal germ out of which organization proceeds. The -organization of every globe is but the inner evolution of the globe -itself; the earth itself, by its own evolving, becomes animal and plant. -The organic world has not formed itself out of the inorganic, but has -been at least potentially present in it from the beginning. That matter -which lies before us, apparently inorganic, is the residuum of organic -metamorphoses, which could not become organic. The human brain is the -highest bloom of the whole organic metamorphosis of the earth. From the -above, Schelling adds, it must be perceived that we affirm an inner -identity of all things, and a potential presence of every thing in every -other, and therefore even the so-called dead matter may be viewed only -as a sleeping-world of animals and plants, which, in some period, the -absolute identity may animate and raise to life. At this point Schelling -stops suddenly, without developing further the three potences of the -ideal series, corresponding to those of the real. Elsewhere he completes -the work by setting up the following three potences of the ideal series: -(1) Knowledge, the potence of reflection; (2) Action, the potence of -subsumption; (3) the Reason as the unity of reflection and subsumption. -These three potences represent themselves: (1) as the true, the -imprinting of the matter in the form; (2) as the good, or the imprinting -of the form in the matter; (3) as the beautiful, or the work of art, the -absolute blending together of form and matter. - -Schelling sought also to furnish himself with a new method for knowing -the absolute identity. Neither the analytic nor the synthetical method -seems to him suitable for this, since both are only a finite knowledge. -Gradually, also, he abandoned the mathematical method. The logical forms -of the ordinary method of knowledge, and even the ordinary metaphysical -categories, were now insufficient for him. Schelling now places the -intellectual intuition as the starting point of true knowledge. -Intuition, in general, is an equal positing of thought and being. When I -behold an object, the being of the object and my thought of the object -is for me absolutely the same. But in the ordinary intuition, some -separate sensible being is posited as one with the thought. But in the -intellectual or rational intuition, being in general, and every being is -made identical with the thought, and the absolute _subject-object_ is -beheld. The intellectual intuition is absolute knowledge, and as such it -can only be conceived as that in which thought and being are not opposed -to each other. It is the beginning and the first step towards philosophy -to behold, immediately and intellectually within thyself, that same -indifference of the ideal and the real which thou beholdest projected as -it were from thyself in space and time. This absolutely absolute mode of -knowledge is wholly and entirely in the absolute itself. That it can -never become taught is clear. It cannot, moreover, be seen why -philosophy is bound to have special regard to the unattainable. It seems -much more fitting to make so complete a separation on every side between -the entrance to philosophy and the common knowledge, that no road nor -track shall lead from the latter to the former. The absolute mode of -knowledge, like the truth which it contains, has no true opposition -outside of itself, and as it cannot be demonstrated by any intelligent -being, so nothing can be set up in opposition to it by any.--Schelling -has attempted to bring the intellectual intuition into a method, and has -named this method construction. The possibility and the necessity of the -constructive method is based upon the fact that the absolute is in all, -and that all is the absolute. Construction is nothing other than the -proving that the whole is absolutely expressed in every particular -relation and object. To construe an object, philosophically, is to prove -that in this object the whole inner structure of the absolute repeats -itself. - -In Schelling's "_Lectures on the Method of Academical Study_" (delivered -in 1802, and published in 1803), he sought to treat encyclopædiacally, -every philosophical discipline from the given standpoint of identity or -indifference. They furnish a connected and popular exposition of the -outlines of his philosophy, in the form of a critical modelling of the -studies of the university course. The most noticeable feature in them is -Schelling's attempt at a historical construction of Christianity. The -incarnation of God is an incarnation from eternity. The eternal Son of -God, born from the essence of the father of all things, is the finite -itself, as it is in the eternal intuition of God. Christ is only the -historical and phenomenal pinnacle of the incarnation; as an individual, -he is a person wholly conceivable from the circumstances of the age in -which he appeared. Since God is eternally outside of all time, it is -inconceivable that he should have assumed a human nature at any definite -moment of time. The temporal form of Christianity, the exoteric -Christianity does not correspond to its idea, and has its perfection yet -to be hoped for. A chief hindrance to the perfection of Christianity, -was, and is the so-called Bible, which, moreover, is far inferior to -other religious writings, in a genuine religious content. The future -must bring a new birth of the esoteric Christianity, or a new and higher -form of religion, in which philosophy, religion and poesy shall melt -together in unity.--This latter remark contains already an intimation of -the "_Philosophy of Revelation_," a work subsequently written by -Schelling, and which exhibited many of the principles current in the age -of the apostle John. In the work we are now considering, there are also -many other points which correspond to this later standpoint of -Schelling. Thus he places at the summit of history a kind of golden age. -It is inconceivable, he says, that man as he now appears, should have -raised himself through himself from instinct to consciousness, from -animality to rationality. Another human race, must, therefore, have -preceded the present, which the old saga have immortalized under the -form of gods and heroes. The first origin of religion and culture is -only conceivable through the instruction of higher natures. I hold the -condition of culture as the first condition of the human race, and -considere the first foundation of states, sciences, religion and arts as -cotemporary, or rather as one thing: so that all these were not truly -separate, but in the completest interpenetration, as it will be again in -the final consummation. Schelling is no more than consistent when he -accordingly apprehends the symbols of mythology which we meet with at -the beginning of history, as disclosures of the highest wisdom. There is -here also a step towards his subsequent "_Philosophy of Mythology_." - -The mystical element revealed in these expressions of Schelling gained -continually a greater prominence with him. Its growth was partly -connected with his fruitless search after an absolute method, and a -fitting form in which he might have satisfactorily expressed his -philosophic intuitions. All noble mysticism rests on the incapacity of -adequately expressing an infinite content in the form of a conception. -So Schelling, after he had been restlessly tossed about in every method, -soon gave up also his method of construction, and abandoned himself -wholly to the unlimited current of his fancy. But though this was partly -the cause of his mysticism, it is also true that his philosophical -standpoint was gradually undergoing a change. From the speculative -science of nature, he was gradually passing over more and more into the -philosophy of mind, by which the determination of the absolute in his -conception became changed. While he had previously determined the -absolute as the indifference of the ideal and the real, he now gives a -preponderance to the ideal over the real, and makes ideality the -fundamental determination of the absolute. The first is the ideal; -secondly, the ideal determines itself in itself to the real, and the -real as such is the third. The earlier harmony of mind and matter is -dissolved: matter appears now as the negative of mind. Since Schelling -in this way distinguishes the universe from the absolute as its -counterpart, we see that he leaves decidedly the basis of Spinozism on -which he had previously stood, and places himself on a new standpoint. - -IV. FOURTH PERIOD: THE DIRECTION OF SCHELLING'S PHILOSOPHY AS MYSTICAL -AND ALLIED TO NEW-PLATONISM. - -The writings of this period are:--"_Philosophy and Religion_," 1804. -"_Exposition of the true relation of the Philosophy of Nature to the -improved Theory of Fichte_," 1806; "_Medical Annual_" (published in -company with _Marcus_) 1805-1808.--As has already been said, the absolute -and the universe were, on the standpoint of indifference, identical. -Nature and history were immediate manifestations of the absolute. But -now Schelling lays stress upon the difference between the two, and the -independence of the world. This he expresses in a striking way in the -first of the above named writings, by placing the origin of the world -wholly after the manner of New-Platonism, in a breaking away or a -falling off from the absolute. From the absolute to the actual, there is -no abiding transition; the origin of the sensible world is only -conceivable as a complete breaking off _per saltum_ from the absolute. -The absolute is the only real, finite things are not real; they can, -therefore, have their ground in no reality imparted to them from the -absolute, but only in a separation and complete falling away from the -absolute. The reconciliation of this fall, and the manifestation of God -made complete, is the final cause of history. With this idea there are -also connected other representations borrowed from New-Platonism, which -Schelling brings out in the same work. He speaks in it of the descent of -the soul from intellectuality, to the world of sense, and like the -Platonic myth he allows this fall of souls to be a punishment for their -selfhood (pride); he speaks also in connection with this of a -regeneration, or transmigration of souls, by which they either begin a -higher life on a better sphere, or intoxicated with matter, they are -driven down to a still lower abode, according as they have in the -present life laid aside more or less of their selfhood, and become -purified in a greater or less degree, to an identity with the infinite; -but we are especially reminded of New-Platonism by the high place and -the mystical and symbolical significance, which Schelling gives in this -work to the Greek mysteries (as did Bruno), and the view that if -religion would be held in its pure ideality, it can only exist as -exoteric, or in the form of mysteries.--This notion of a higher blending -together of religion and philosophy goes through all the writings of -this period. All true experience, says Schelling in the "_Medical -Annual_," is religious. The existence of God is an empirical truth, and -the ground of all experience. True, religion is not philosophy, but the -philosophy which does not unite in sacred harmony, religion with -science, were unworthy of the name. True, I know something higher than -science. And if science has only these two ways open before it to -knowledge, viz., that of analysis or abstraction, and that of synthetic -derivation, then we deny all science of the absolute. Speculation is -every thing, _i. e._ a beholding, a contemplation of that which is in -God. Science itself has worth only so far as it is speculative, _i. e._ -only so far as it is a contemplation of God as he is. But the time will -come when the sciences shall more and more cease, and immediate -knowledge take their place. The mortal eye closes only in the highest -science, where it is no longer the man who sees, but the eternal -beholding which has now become seeing in him. - -With this theosophic view of the world, Schelling was led to pay -attention to the earlier mystics. He began to study their writings. He -answered the charge of mysticism in his controversy with Fichte as -follows:--Among the learned of the last century, there was a tacit -agreement never to go beyond a certain height, and, therefore, the -genuine spirit of science was given up to the unlearned. These, because -they were uneducated and had drawn upon themselves the jealousy of the -learned, were called fanatics. But many a philosopher by profession -might well have exchanged all his rhetoric for the fulness of mind and -heart which abound in the writings of such fanatics. Therefore I am not -ashamed of the name of such a fanatic. I will even seek to make this -reproach true; if I have not hitherto studied the writings of these men -correctly, it has been owing to negligence. - -Schelling did not omit to verify these words. There were some special -mental affinities between himself and _Jacob Boehme_, with whom he now -became more and more closely joined. A study of his writings is indeed -indicated in Schelling's works of the present period. One of the most -famous of Schelling's writings, his theory of freedom, which appeared -after this ("_Philosophische Untersuchungen über das Wesen der -menschlichen Freiheit_," 1809), is composed entirely in the spirit of -Jacob Boehme. We begin with it a new period of Schelling's -philosophizing, where _the will_ is affirmed as the essence of God, and -we have thus a new definition of the absolute differing from every -previous one. - -V. FIFTH PERIOD:--ATTEMPT AT A THEOGONY AND COSMOGONY AFTER THE MANNER OF -JACOB BOEHME. - -Schelling had much in common with Jacob Boehme. Both considered the -speculative cognition as a kind of immediate intuition. Both made use of -forms which mingled the abstract and the sensuous, and interpenetrated -the definiteness of logic with the coloring of fancy. Both, in fine, -were speculatively in close contact. The self-duplication of the -absolute was a fundamental thought of Boehme. He started with the -principle, that the divine essence was the indeterminable, infinite, and -inconceivable, the absence of ground (_Ungrund_). This absence of ground -now projects itself in a proper feeling of its abstract and infinite -essence, into the finite, _i. e._ into a ground, or the centre of -nature, in the dark womb of which qualities are produced, from whose -harsh collision the lightning streams forth, which, as mind or principle -of light, is destined to rule and explain the struggling powers of -nature, so that the God who has been raised from the absence of ground -through a ground to the light of the mind, may henceforth move in an -eternal kingdom of joy. This theogony of Jacob Boehme is in striking -accord with the present standpoint of Schelling. As Boehme had -apprehended the absolute as the indeterminable absence of ground, so had -Schelling in his earlier writings apprehended it as indifference. As -Boehme had distinguished this absence of ground from a ground, or from -nature and from God, as the light of minds, so had Schelling, in the -writings of the last period, apprehended the absolute as a -self-renunciation, and a return back from this renunciation into a -higher unity with itself. We have here the three chief elements of that -history of God, around which Schelling's essay on freedom turns: (1) God -as indifference, or the absence of ground; (2) God as duplication into -ground and existence, real and ideal; (3) Reconciliation of this -duplication, and elevation of the original indifference to identity. The -first element of the divine life is that of pure indifference, or -indistinguishableness. This, which precedes every thing existing, may be -called the original ground, or the absence of ground. The absence of -ground is not a product of opposites, nor are they contained _implicite_ -in it, but it is a proper essence separate from every opposite, and -having no predicate but that of predicatelessness. Real and ideal, -darkness and light, can never be predicated of the absence of ground as -opposites; they can only be affirmed of it as not-opposites in a -neither-nor. From this indifference now rises the duality: the absence -of ground separates into two co-eternal beginnings, so that ground and -existence may become one through love, and the indeterminable and -lifeless indifference may rise to a determinate and living identity. -Since nothing is before or external to God, he must have the ground of -his existence in himself. But this ground is not simply logical, as -conception, but real, as something which is actually to be distinguished -in God from existence; it is nature in God, an essence inseparable -indeed from him, but yet distinct. Hence we cannot assign to this ground -understanding and will, but only desire after this; it is the longing to -produce itself. But in that this ground moves in its longing according -to obscure and uncertain laws like a swelling sea, there is, -self-begotten in God, another and reflexive motion, an inner -representation by which he beholds himself in his image. This -representation is the eternal word in God, which rises as light in the -darkness of the ground, and endows its blind longing with understanding. -This understanding, united with the ground, becomes pre-creating will. -Its work is to give order to nature, and to regulate the hitherto -unregulated ground; and from this explanation of the real through the -ideal, comes the creation of the world. The development of the world has -two stadia: (1) the travail of light, or the progressive development of -nature to man; (2) the travail of mind, or the development of mind in -history. - -(1.) The progressive development of nature proceeds from a conflict of -the ground with the understanding. The ground originally sought to -produce every thing solely from itself, but its products had no -consistence without the understanding, and went again to the ground, a -creation which we see exhibited in the extinct classes of animals and -plants of the pre-Adamite world. But consecutively and gradually, the -ground admitted the work of the understanding, and every such step -towards light is indicated by a new class of nature's beings. In every -creature of nature we must, therefore, distinguish two principles: -first, the obscure principle through which the creatures of nature are -separate from God, and have a particular will; second, the divine -principle of the understanding, of the universal will. With irrational -creatures of nature, however, these two principles are not yet brought -to unity; but the particular will is simple seeking and desire, while -the universal will, without the individual will, reigns as an external -power of nature, as controlling instinct. - -(2.) The two principles, the particular and the universal will, are -first united in man as they are in the absolute: but in God they are -united inseparably, and in man separably, for otherwise God could not -reveal himself in man. It is even this separableness of the universal -will, and the particular will, which makes good and evil possible. The -good is the subjection of the particular will to the universal will, and -the reverse of this right relation is evil. Human freedom consists in -this possibility of good and evil. The empirical man, however, is not -free, but his whole empirical condition is posited by a previous act of -intelligence. The man must act just as he does, but is nevertheless -free, because he has from eternity freely made himself that which he now -necessarily is. The history of the human race is founded for the most -part on the struggle of the individual will with the universal will, as -the history of nature is founded on the struggle of the ground with the -understanding. The different stages through which evil, as a historical -power, takes its way in conflict with love, constitute the periods of -the world's history. Christianity is the centre of history: in Christ, -the principle of love came in personal contact with incarnate evil: -Christ was the mediator to reconcile on the highest stage the creation -with God; for that which is personal can alone redeem the personal. The -end of history is the reconciliation of the particular will and love, -the prevalence of the universal will, so that God shall be all in all. -The original indifference is thus elevated to identity. - -Schelling has given a farther justification of this his idea of God, in -his controversial pamphlet against Jacobi, (1812). The charge of -naturalism which Jacobi made against him, he sought to refute by showing -how the true idea of God was a union of naturalism and theism. -Naturalism seeks to conceive of God as ground of the world (immanent), -while theism would view him as the world's cause (transcendent): the -true course is to unite both determinations. God is at the same time -ground and cause. It no way contradicts the conception of God to affirm -that, so far as he reveals himself, he developes himself from himself, -advancing from the imperfect to the perfect: the imperfect is in fact -the perfect itself, only in a state of becoming. It is necessary that -this becoming should be by stages, in order that the fulness of the -perfect may appear on all sides. If there were no obscure ground, no -nature, no negative principle in God, we could not speak of a -consciousness of God. So long as the God of modern theism remains the -simple essence which ought to be purely essential, but which in fact is -without essence, so long as an actual twofoldness is not recognized in -God, and a limiting and denying energy (a nature, a negative principle) -is not placed in opposition to the extending and affirming energy in -God, so long will science be entitled to make its denial of a personal -God. It is universally and essentially impossible to conceive of a being -with consciousness, which has not been brought into limit by some -denying energy within himself--as universally and essentially impossible -as to conceive of a circle without a centre. - -VI. Since the essay against Jacobi, which in its philosophical content -accords mainly with his theory of freedom, Schelling has not made public -any thing of importance. He has often announced a work entitled "_Die -Weltalter_," which should contain a complete and elaborate exposition of -his philosophy, but has always withdrawn it before its appearance. -_Paulus_ has surreptitiously brought his later Berlin lectures before -the public in a manner for which he has been greatly blamed: but since -this publication is not recognized by Schelling himself, it cannot be -used as an authentic source of knowledge of his philosophy. During this -long period, Schelling has published only two articles of a -philosophical content: "_On the Deities of Samothracos_," 1815, and a -"_Critical Preface_" to _Becker's_ translation of a preface of _Cousin_, -1834. Both articles are very characteristic of the present standpoint of -Schelling's philosophizing--he himself calls his present philosophy -_Positive Philosophy, or the Philosophy of Mythology and -Revelation_,--but as they give only intimations of this, and do not reach -a complete exposition, they do not admit of being used for our purpose. - - - - -SECTION XLIV. - -TRANSITION TO HEGEL. - - -The great want of Schelling's philosophizing, was its inability to -furnish a suitable form for the philosophic content. Schelling went -through the list of all methods, and at last abandoned all. But this -absence of method into which he ultimately sank, contradicted the very -principle of his philosophizing. If thought and being are identical, yet -form and content cannot be indifferent in respect to each other. On the -standpoint of absolute knowledge, there must be found for the absolute -content an absolute form, which shall be identical with the content. -This is the position assumed by _Hegel_. Hegel has fused the content of -Schelling's philosophy by means of the _absolute method_. Hegel sprang -as truly from Fichte as from Schelling; the origin of his system is -found in both. His method is essentially that of Fichte, but his general -philosophical standpoint is Schelling's. He has combined both Fichte and -Schelling. - -Hegel has himself, in his "_Phenomenology_," the first work in which he -appeared as a philosopher on his own hook, having previously been -considered as an adherent of Schelling--clearly expressed his difference -from Schelling, which he comprehensively affirms in the following three -hits (_Schlagworte_):--In Schelling's philosophy, the absolute is, as it -were, shot out of a pistol; it is only the night in which every cow -looks black; when it is widened to a system, it is like the course of a -painter, who has on his palette but two colors, red and green, and who -would cover a surface with the former when a historical piece was -demanded, and with the latter when a landscape was required. The first -of these charges refers to the mode of attaining the idea of the -absolute, viz., immediately, through intellectual intuition; this leap -Hegel changes, in his _Phenomenology_, to a regular transit, proceeding -step by step. The second charge relates to the way in which the absolute -thus gained is conceived and expressed, viz., simply as the absence of -all finite distinctions, and not as the immanent positing of a system of -distinctions within itself. Hegel declares that every thing depends upon -apprehending and expressing the true not as substance (_i. e._ as -negation of determinateness), but as subject (as a positing and -producing of finite distinction). The third charge has to do with -Schelling's manner of carrying out his principle through the concrete -content of the facts given in the natural and intellectual worlds, viz., -by the application of a ready-made schema (the opposition of the ideal -and the real) to the objects, instead of suffering them to unfold and -separate themselves from themselves. The school of Schelling was -especially given to this schematizing formalism, and that which Hegel -remarks, in the introduction to his _Phenomenology_, may very well be -applied to it: "If the formalism of a philosophy of nature should happen -to teach that the understanding is electricity, or that the animate is -nitrogen, the inexperienced might look upon such instructions with deep -amazement, and perhaps revere them as displaying the marks of profound -genius. But the trick of such a wisdom is as readily learned as it is -easily practised; its repetition is as insufferable as the repetition of -a discovered feat of legerdemain. This method of affixing to every thing -heavenly and earthly, to all natural and intellectual forms, the two -determinations of the universal scheme, makes the universe like a -grocer's shop, in which a row of closed jars stand with their labels -pasted on them." - -The point, therefore, of greatest difference between Schelling and Hegel -is their philosophical method, and this at the same time forms the bond -of close connection which unites Hegel with Fichte. Thesis, antithesis, -synthesis--this was the method by which Fichte had sought to deduce all -being from the Ego, and in precisely the same way Hegel deduces all -being--the intellectual and natural universe--from the thought, only with -this difference, that with him that which was idealistically deduced had -at the same time an objective reality. While the practical idealism of -Fichte stood related to the objective world as a producer, and the -ordinary empiricism as a beholder, yet with Hegel the speculative -(conceiving) reason is at the same time productive and beholding. I -produce (for myself) that which is (in itself) without my producing. The -result of philosophy, says Hegel, is the thought which is by itself, and -which comprehends in itself the universe, and changes it into an -intelligent world. To raise all being to being in the consciousness, to -knowledge, is the problem and the goal of philozophizing, and this goal -is reached when the mind has become able to beget the whole objective -world from itself. - -In his first great work, the "_Phenomenology of the Mind_," Hegel sought -to establish the standpoint of absolute knowledge or absolute idealism. -He furnishes in this work a history of the phenomenal consciousness -(whence its title), a development of the formative epochs of the -consciousness in its progress to philosophical knowledge. The inner -development of consciousness consists in this, viz., that the peculiar -condition in which it finds itself becomes objectified (or conscious), -and through this knowledge of its own being the consciousness rises ever -a new step to a higher condition. The "_Phenomenology_" seeks to show -how, and out of what necessity the consciousness advances from step to -step, from reality to being _per se_ (_vom Ansich zum Fürsich_), from -being to knowledge. The author begins with the immediate consciousness -as the lowest step. He entitled this section: "_The Sensuous Certainty, -or the This and the Mine_." At this stage the question is asked the Ego: -what is _this_, or what is _here_? and it answers, _e. g._ the tree; and -to the question, what is _now_? it answers now is the night. But if we -turn ourselves around, _here_ is not a tree but a house; and if we write -down the second answer, and look at it again after a little time, we -find that _now_ is no longer night but mid-day. The _this_ becomes, -therefore, a not-this, _i. e._ a universal. And very naturally; for if I -say: this piece of paper, yet each and every paper is a this piece of -paper, and I have only said the universal. By such inner dialectics the -whole field of the immediate certainty of the sense in perception is -gone over. In this way--since every formative step (every form) of the -consciousness of the philosophizing subject is involved in -contradictions, and is carried by this immanent dialectics to a higher -form of consciousness--this process of development goes on till the -contradiction is destroyed, _i. e._ till all strangeness between subject -and object disappears, and the mind rises to a perfect self-knowledge -and self-certainty. To characterize briefly the different steps of this -process, we might say that the consciousness is first found as a -certainty of the sense, or as the _this_ and the _mine_; next as -perception, which apprehends the objective as a thing with its -properties; and then as understanding, _i. e._ apprehending the objects -as being reflected in itself, or distinguishing between power and -expression, being and manifestation, outer and inner. From this point -the consciousness, which has only recognized itself, its own pure being -in its objects and their determinations, and for which therefore every -other thing than itself has, as such, no significance, becomes the -self-like Ego, and rises to the truth and certainty of itself to -self-consciousness. The self-consciousness become universal, or as -reason, now traverses also a series of development-steps, until it -manifests itself as spirit, as the reason which, in accord with all -rationality, and satisfied with the rational world without, extends -itself over the natural and intellectual universe as _its_ kingdom, in -which it finds itself at home. Mind now passes through its stages of -unconstrained morality, culture and refinement, ethics and the ethical -view of the world to religion; and religion itself in its perfection, as -revealed religion becomes absolute knowledge. At this last stage being -and thought are no more separate, being is no longer an object for the -thought, but the thought itself is the object of the thought. Science is -nothing other than the true knowledge of the mind concerning itself. In -the conclusion of the "_Phenomenology_," Hegel casts the following -retrospect on the course which he has laid down: "The goal which is to -be reached, viz., absolute knowledge, or the mind knowing itself as -mind, requires us to take notice of minds as they are in themselves, and -the organization of their kingdom. These elements are preserved, and -furnished to us either by history, where we look at the side of the -mind's free existence as it accidentally appears, or by the science of -phenomenal knowledge, where we look at the side of the mind's ideal -organization. These two sources taken together, as the ideal history, -give us the real history and the true being of the absolute spirit, the -actuality, truth, and certainty of his throne, without which he were -lifeless and alone; only 'from the cup of this kingdom of minds does -there stream forth for him his infinity.'" - - - - -SECTION XLV. - -HEGEL. - - -_George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel_ was born at Stuttgart, the 27th of -August, 1770. In his eighteenth year he entered the university of -Tübingen, in order to devote himself to the study of theology. During -his course of study here, he attracted no marked attention; Schelling, -who was his junior in years, shone far beyond all his contemporaries. -After leaving Tübingen, he took a situation as private tutor, first in -Switzerland, and afterwards in Frankfort-on-the-Main till 1801, when he -settled down at Jena. At first he was regarded as a disciple, and -defender of Schelling's philosophy, and as such he wrote in 1801 his -first minor treatise on the "_Difference between Fichte and Schelling_." -Soon afterwards he became associated with Schelling in publishing the -"_Critical Journal of Philosophy_," 1802-3, for which he furnished a -number of important articles. His labors as an academical teacher met at -first with but little encouragement; he gave his first lecture to only -four hearers. Yet in 1806 he became professor in the university, though -the political catastrophe in which the country was soon afterwards -involved, deprived him again of the place. Amid the cannon's thunder of -the battle of Jena he finished "_the Phenomenology of the Mind_," his -first great and independent work, the crown of his Jena labors. He was -subsequently in the habit of calling this book which appeared in 1807, -his "voyage of discovery." From Jena, Hegel for want of the means of -subsistence went to Bamberg, where for two years he was editor of a -political journal published there. In the fall of 1808, he became rector -of the gymnasium at Nuremberg. In this situation he wrote his _Logic_, -1812-16. All his works were produced slowly, and he first properly began -his literary activity as Schelling finished his. In 1816, he received a -call to a professorship of philosophy at Heidelberg, where in 1817 he -published his "_Encyclopædia of the philosophical sciences_," in which -for the first time he showed the whole circuit of his system. But his -peculiar fame, and his far-reaching activity, dates first from his call -to Berlin in 1818. It was at Berlin that he surrounded himself with an -extensive and very actively scientific school, and where through his -connection with the Prussian government he gained a political influence -and acquired a reputation for his philosophy, as _the_ philosophy of the -State, though this neither speaks favorably for its inner purity, nor -its moral credit. Yet in his "_Philosophy of Rights_," which appeared in -1821 (a time, to be sure, when the Prussian State had not yet shown any -decidedly anti-constitutional tendency), Hegel does not deny the -political demands of the present age; he declares in favor of popular -representation, freedom of the press, and publicity of judicial -proceedings, trial by jury, and an administrative independence of -corporations. - -In Berlin, Hegel gave lectures upon almost every branch of philosophy, -and these have been published by his disciples and friends after his -death. His manner as a lecturer was stammering, clumsy, and unadorned, -but was still not without a peculiar attraction as the immediate -expression of profound thoughtfulness. His social intercourse was more -with the uncultivated than with the learned; he was not fond of shining -as a genius in social circles. In 1829 he became rector of the -university, an office which he administered in a more practical manner -than Fichte had done. Hegel died with the cholera, Nov. 14th, 1831, the -day also of Leibnitz's death. He rests in the same churchyard with -Solger and Fichte, near by the latter, and not far from the former. His -writings and lectures form seventeen volumes which have appeared since -1882: Vol. I. Minor Articles; II. Phenomenology; III-V. Logic; VI.-VII. -Encyclopædia; VIII. Philosophy of Rights; IX. Philosophy of History; X. -Æsthetics; XI.-XII. Philosophy of Religion; XIII.-XV. History of -Philosophy; XVI.-XVII. Miscellanies. His life has been written by -Rosenkranz. - -Hegel's system may be divided in a number of ways. The best mode is by -connecting it with Schelling. Schellings's absolute was the identity or -the indifference point of the ideal and the real. From this Hegel's -threefold division immediately follows. (1) The exposition of the -indifference point, the development of the pure conceptions or -determinations in thought, which lie at the basis of all natural and -intellectual life; in other words, the logical unfolding of the -absolute,--_the science of logic_. (2) The development of the real world -or of nature--_natural philosophy_. (3) The development of the ideal -world, or of mind as it shows itself concretely in right, morals, the -state, art, religion, and science.--_Philosophy of Mind_. These three -parts of the system represent the three elements of the absolute method, -thesis, antithesis, synthesis. The absolute is at first pure, and -immaterial thought; secondly, it is differentiation (_Andersseyn_) of -the pure thought or its diremption (_Verzerrung_) in space and -time--nature; thirdly, it returns from this self-estrangement to itself, -destroys the differentiation of nature, and thus becomes actual -self-knowing thought or mind. - -I. SCIENCE OF LOGIC.--The Hegelian logic is the scientific exposition and -development of the pure conceptions of reason, those conceptions or -categories which lie at the basis of all thought and being, and which -determine the subjective knowledge as truly as they form the indwelling -soul of the objective reality; in a word, those ideas in which the ideal -and the real have their point of coincidence. The domain of logic, says -Hegel, is the truth, as it is _per se_ in its native character. It is as -Hegel himself figuratively expresses it, the representation of God as he -is in his eternal being, before the creation of the world or a finite -mind. In this respect it is, to be sure, a domain of shadows; but these -shadows are, on the other hand, those simple essences freed from all -sensuous matters, in whose diamond net the whole universe is -constructed. - -Different philosophers had already made a thankworthy beginning towards -collecting and examining the pure conceptions of the reason, as -Aristotle in his categories, Wolff in his ontology, and Kant in his -transcendental analytics. But they had neither completely collected, nor -critically sifted, nor (Kant excepted) derived them from one principle, -but had only taken them up empirically, and treated them -lexicologically. But in opposition to this course, Hegel attempted, (1) -to completely collect the pure art-conceptions; (2) to critically sift -them (_i. e._ to exclude every thing but pure thought); and (3)--which is -the most characteristic peculiarity of the Hegelian logic--to derive -these dialectically from one another, and carry them out to an -internally connected system of pure reason. Hegel starts with the view, -that in every conception of the reason, every other is contained -_implicite_, and may be dialectically developed from it. Fichte had -already claimed that the reason must deduce the whole system of -knowledge purely from itself, without any thing taken for granted; that -some principle must be sought which should be of itself certain, and -need no farther proof, and from which every thing else could be derived. -Hegel holds fast to this thought. Starting from the simplest conception -of reason, that of pure being, which needs no farther establishing, he -seeks from this, by advancing from one conception ever to another and a -richer one, to deduce the whole system of the pure knowledge of reason. -The lever of this development is the dialectical method. - -Hegel's dialectical method is partly taken from Plato, and partly from -Fichte. The conception of negation is Platonic. All negation, says -Hegel, is position, affirmation. If a conception is negated, the result -is not the pure nothing--a pure negative, but a concrete positive; there -results a new conception which extends around the negation of the -preceding one. The negation of the one _e. g._ is the conception of the -many. In this way Hegel makes negation a vehicle for dialectical -progress. Every presupposed conception is denied, and from its negation -a higher and richer conception is gained. This is connected with the -method of Fichte, which posits a fundamental synthesis; and by analyzing -this, seeks its antitheses, and then unites again these antitheses -through a second synthesis,--_e. g._ being, nothing, becoming, quality, -quantity, measure, &c. This method, which is at the same time analytical -and synthetical, Hegel has carried through the whole system of science. - -We now proceed to a brief survey of the Hegelian Logic. It is divided -into three parts; the doctrine of _being_, the doctrine of _essence_, -and the doctrine of _conception_. - -1. THE DOCTRINE OF BEING. (1.) _Quality._--Science begins with the -immediate and indeterminate conception of _being_. This, in its want of -content and emptiness, is nothing more than a pure negation, a -_nothing_. These two conceptions are thus as absolutely identical as -they are absolutely opposed; each of the two disappears immediately in -its contrary. This oscillation of the two is the pure _becoming_, which, -if it be a transition from nothing to being, we call _arising_, or, in -the reverse case, we call it a _departing_. The still and simple -precipitate of this process of arising and departing, is _existence_ -(_Daseyn_). Existence is being with a determinateness, or it is -_quality_; more closely, it is _reality_ or limited existence. Limited -existence excludes every other from itself. This reference to itself, -which is seen through its negative relation to every other, we call -being _per se_ (_Fürsichseyn_). Being _per se_ which refers itself only -to itself, and repels every other from itself, is _the one_. But, by -means of this repelling, the one posits immediately _many_ ones. But the -many ones are not distinguished from each other. One is what the other -is. The many are therefore one. But the one is just as truly the -manifold. For its exclusion is the positing of its contrary, or it -posits itself thereby as manifold. By this dialectic of _attraction_ and -_repulsion_, quality passes over into quantity: for indifference in -respect of distinction or qualitative determinateness is _quantity_. - -(2.) _Quantity._--Quantity is determination of greatness, which, as such, -is indifferent in respect of quality. In so far as the _greatness_ -contains many ones distinguishably within itself, it is a _discrete_, or -has the element of _discretion_; but on the other hand, in so far as the -many ones are similar, and the greatness is thus indistinguishable, it -is _continuous_, or has the element of _continuity_. Each of these two -determinations is at the same time identical with the other; discretion -cannot be conceived without continuity, nor continuity without -discretion. The existence of quantity, or the limited quantity, is the -_quantum_. The quantum has also manifoldness and unity in itself; it is -the enumeration of the unities, _i. e._ _number_. Corresponding to the -quantum or the extensive greatness, is the intensive greatness or _the -degree_. With the conception of degree, so far as degree is simple -determinateness, quantity approaches quality again. The unity of -quantity and quality is _the measure_. - -(3.) _The measure_ is a qualitative quantum, a quantum on which the -quality is dependent. An example of quantity determining the quality of -a definite object is found in the temperature of water, which decides -whether the water shall remain water or turn to ice or steam. Here the -quantum of heat actually constitutes the quality of the water. Quality -and quantity are, therefore, ideal determinations, perpetually turning -around _on_ one being, on a _third_, which, is distinguished from the -immediate what and how much (quality and quantity) of a thing. This -third is the _essence_, which is the negation of every thing immediate, -or quality independent of the immediate being. Essence is being in se, -being divided in itself, a self-separation of being. Hence the -twofoldness of all determinations of essence. - -2. THE DOCTRINE OF ESSENCE. (1.) _The Essence as such._ The essence as -reflected being is the reference to itself only as it is a reference to -something other. We apply to this being the term reflected analogously -with the reflection of light, which, when it falls on a mirror, is -thrown back by it. As now the reflected light is, through its reference -to another object, something mediated or posited, so the reflected being -is that which is shown to be mediated or grounded through another. From -the fact that philosophy makes its problem to know the essence of -things, the immediate being of things is represented as a covering or -curtain behind which the essence is concealed. If, therefore, we speak -of the essence of an object, the immediate being standing over against -the essence (for without this the essence cannot be conceived), is set -down to a mere negative, to an _appearance_. The being appears in the -essence. The essence is, therefore, the being as _appearance in itself_. -The essence when conceived in distinction from the appearance, gives the -conception of the _essential_, and that which only appears in the -essence, is the essenceless, or the _unessential_. But since the -essential has a being only in distinction from the unessential, it -follows that the latter is essential to the former, which needs its -unessential just as much as the unessential needs it. Each of the two, -therefore, appears in the other, or there takes place between them a -reciprocal reference which we call _reflection_. We have, therefore, to -do in this whole sphere with determinations of reflection, with -determinations, each one of which refers to the other, and cannot be -conceived without it (_e. g._ positive and negative, ground and -sequence, thing and properties, content and form, power and expression). -We have, therefore, in the development of the essence, those same -determinations which we found in the development of being, only no -longer in an immediate, but in a reflected form. Instead of being and -nothing, we have now the forms of the positive and negative; instead of -the there-existent (_Daseyn_), we now have existence. - -Essence is reflected being, a reference to itself, which, however, is -mediated through a reference to something other which appears in it. -This reflected reference to itself we call _identity_ (which is -unsatisfactorily and abstractly expressed in the so-called first -principle of thought, that A = A). This identity, as a negativity -referring itself to itself, as a repulsion of its own from itself, -contains essentially the determination of _distinction_. The immediate -and external distinction is the _difference_. The essential distinction, -the distinction in itself, is the _antithesis_ (_positive and -negative_). The self-opposition of the essence is the _contradiction_. -The antithesis of identity and distinction is put in agreement in the -conception of the ground. Since now the essence distinguishes itself -from itself, there is the essence as identical with itself or the -_ground_, and the essence as distinguished from itself or the -_sequence_. In the category of ground and sequence the same thing, _i. -e._ the essence, is twice posited; the grounded and the ground are one -and the same content, which makes it difficult to define the ground -except through the sequence, or the sequence except through the ground. -The two can, therefore, be divided only by a powerful abstraction; but -because the two are identical, it is peculiarly a formalism to apply -this category. If reflection would inquire after a ground, it is because -it would see the thing as it were in a twofold relation, once in its -immediateness, and then as posited through a ground. - -(2.) _Essence and Phenomenon._--The _phenomenon_ is the appearance which -the essence fills, and which is hence no longer essenceless. There is no -appearance without essence, and no essence which may not enter into -phenomenon. It is one and the same content which at one time is taken as -essence, and at another as phenomenon. In the phenomenal essence we -recognize the positive element which has hitherto been called ground, -but which we now name _content_, and the negative element which we call -the _form_. Every essence is a unity of content and form, _i. e._ _it -exists_. In distinction from immediate being, we call that being which -has proceeded from some ground, _existence_, _i. e._ grounded being. -When we view the essence as existing, we call it _thing_. In the -relation of a thing to its _properties_ we have a repetition of the -relation of form and content. The properties show us the thing in -respect of its form, but it is thing in respect of its content. The -relation between the thing and its properties is commonly indicated by -the verb _to have_ (_e. g._ the thing _has_ properties), in order to -distinguish between the two. The essence as a negative reference to -itself, and as repelling itself from itself in order to a reflection in -an _alterum_, is _power_ and _expression_. In this category, like all -the other categories of essence, one and the same content is posited -twice. The power can only be explained from the expression, and the -expression only from the power; consequently every explanation of which -this category avails itself, is tautological. To regard power as -uncognizable, is only a self-deception of the understanding respecting -its own doing.--A higher expression for the category of power and -expression is the category of _inner_ and _outer_. The latter category -stands higher than the former, because power needs some solicitation to -express itself, but the inner is the essence spontaneously manifesting -itself. Both of these, the inner and the outer, are also identical; -neither is without the other. That, _e. g._ which the man is internally -in respect of his character, is he also externally in his action. The -truth of this relation will be, therefore, the identity of inner and -outer, of essence and phenomenon, viz.: - -(3.) _Actuality._--Actuality must be added as a _third_ to being and -existence. In the actuality, the phenomenon is a complete and adequate -manifestation of the essence. The true actuality is, therefore (in -opposition to _possibility_ and _contingency_), a necessary being, a -rational _necessity_. The well-known Hegelian sentence that every thing -is rational, and every thing rational is actual, is seen in this -apprehension of "actuality" to be a simple tautology. The necessary, -when posited as its own ground, identical with itself, is _substance_. -The phenomenal side, the unessential in the substance, and the -contingent in the necessary, are _accidences_. These are no longer -related to the substance, as the phenomenon to the essence, or the outer -to the inner, _i. e._ as an adequate manifestation; they are only -transitory affections of the substance, accidentally changing phenomenal -forms, like sea waves on the water of the sea. They are not produced by -the substance, but are rather destroyed in it. The relation of substance -leads to the relation of _cause_. In the relation of cause there is one -and the same thing posited on the one side as _cause_, and on the other -side as _effect_. The cause of warmth is warmth, and its effect is again -warmth. The effect is a higher conception than the accidence, since it -actually stands over against the cause, and the cause itself passes over -into effect. So far, however, as each side in the relation of cause -presupposes the other, we shall find the true relation one in which each -side is at the same time cause and effect, _i. e._ _reciprocal action_. -Reciprocal action is a higher relation than causality, because there is -no pure causality. There is no effect without counteraction. We leave -the province of essence with the category of reciprocal action. All the -categories of essence had shown themselves as a duplex of two sides, but -when we come to the category of reciprocal action, the opposition -between cause and effect is destroyed, and they meet together; unity -thus takes again the place of duplicity. We have, therefore, again a -being which coincides with mediate being. This unity of being and -essence, this inner or realized necessity, is the conception. - -3. THE DOCTRINE OF THE CONCEPTION.--A conception is a rational necessity. -We can only have a conception of that whose true necessity we have -recognized. The conception is, therefore, the truly actual, the peculiar -essence; because it states as well that which is actual as that which -should be. - -(1.) _The subjective conception_ contains the elements of _universality_ -(the conception of species), _particularity_ (ground of classification, -logical difference), and _individuality_ (species--logical difference). -The conception is therefore a unity of that which is distinct. The -self-separation of the conception is the _judgment_. In the judgment, -the conception appears as self-excluding duality. The twofoldness is -seen in the difference between subject and predicate, and the unity in -the copula. Progress in the different forms of judgment, consists in -this, viz., that the copula fills itself more and more with the -conception. But thus the judgment passes over into the _conclusion_ or -inference, _i. e._ to the conception which is identical with itself -through the conception. In the inference one conception is concluded -with a third through a second. The different figures of the conclusion -are the different steps in the self-mediation of the conception. The -conception is when it mediates itself with itself and the conclusion is -no longer subjective; it is no longer my act, but an objective relation -is fulfilled in it. - -(2.) _Objectivity_ is a reality _only_ of the conception. The objective -conception has three steps,--_Mechanism_, or the indifferent relation of -objects to each other; _Chemism_, or the interpenetration of objects and -their neutralization; _Teleology_, or the inner design of objects. The -end accomplishing itself or the self-end is, - -(3.) _The idea._--The idea is the highest logical definition of the -absolute. The immediate existence of the idea, we call _life_, or -process of life. Every thing living is self-end immanent-end. The idea -posited in its difference as a relation of objective and subjective, is -the _true_ and _good_. The true is the objective rationality -subjectively posited; the good is the subjective rationality carried -into the objectivity. Both conceptions together constitute the _absolute -idea_, which is just as truly as it _should_ be, _i. e._ the good is -just as truly actualized as the true is living and self-realizing. - -The absolute and full idea _is in space_, because it discharges itself -from itself, as its reflection; this its being in space is _Nature_. - -II. THE SCIENCE OF NATURE.--Nature is the idea in the form of -differentiation. It is the idea externalizing itself; it is the mind -estranged from itself. The unity of the conception is therefore -concealed in nature, and since philosophy makes it its problem to seek -out the intelligence which is hidden in nature, and to pursue the -process by which nature loses its own character and becomes mind, it -should not forget that the essence of nature consists in being which has -externalized itself, and that the products of nature neither have a -reference to themselves, nor correspond to the conception, but grow up -in unrestrained and unbridled contingency. Nature is a bacchanalian god -who neither bridles nor checks himself. It therefore represents no ideal -succession, rising ever in regular order, but, on the contrary, it every -where obliterates all essential limits by its doubtful structures, which -always defy every fixed classification. Because it is impossible to -throw the determinations of the conception over nature, natural -philosophy is forced at every point, as it were, to capitulate between -the world of concrete individual structures, and the regulative of the -speculative idea. - -Natural philosophy has its beginning, its course, and its end. It begins -with the first or immediate determination of nature, with the abstract -universality of its being _extra se_, space and matter; its end is the -dissevering of the mind from nature in the form of a rational and -self-conscious individuality--man; the problem which it has to solve is, -to show the intermediate link between these two extremes, and to follow -out successively the increasingly successful struggles of nature to -raise itself to self-consciousness, to man. In this process, nature -passes through three principal stages. - -1. MECHANICS, or matter and an ideal system of matter. Matter is the -being _extra se_ (_Aussersichseyn_) of nature, in its most universal -form. Yet it shows at the outset that tendency to being _per se_ which -forms the guiding thread of natural philosophy--gravity. Gravity is the -being _in se_ (_Insichseyn_) of matter; it is the desire of matter to -come to itself, and shows the first trace of subjectivity. The centre of -gravity of a body is _the one_ which it seeks. This same tendency of -bringing all the manifold unto being _per se_ lies at the basis of the -solar system and of universal gravitation. The centrality which is the -fundamental conception of gravity, becomes here a system, which is in -fact a rational system so far as the form of the orbit, the rapidity of -motion, or the time of revolution may be referred to mathematical laws. - -2. PHYSICS.--But matter possesses no individuality. Even in astronomy it -is not the bodies themselves, but only their geometrical relations which -interest us. We have here at the outset to treat of quantitative and not -yet of qualitative determinations. Yet in the solar system, matter has -found its centre, itself. Its abstract and hollow being _in se_ has -resolved itself into form. Matter now, as possessing a quality, is an -object of _physics_. In physics we have to do with matter which has -particularized itself in a body, in an individuality. To this province -belongs inorganic nature, its forms and reciprocal references. - -3. ORGANICS.--Inorganic nature, which was the object of physics, destroys -itself in the chemical process. In the chemical process, the inorganic -body loses all its properties (cohesion, color, shining, sound, -transparency, &c.), and thus shows the evanescence of its existence and -that relativity which is its being. This chemical process is overcome by -the organic, the living process of nature. True, the living body is ever -on the point of passing over to the chemical process; oxygen, hydrogen -and salt, are always entering into a living organism, but their chemical -action is always overcome; the living body resists the chemical process -till it dies. Life is self-preservation, self-end. While therefore -nature in physics had risen to individuality, in organics, it progresses -to subjectivity. The idea, as life, represents itself in three stages. - -(1.) The general image of life in _geological_ organism, or the _mineral -kingdom_. Yet the mineral kingdom is the result, and the residuum of a -process of life and formation already passed. The primitive rock is the -stiffened crystal of life, and the geological earth is a giant corpse. -The present life which produces itself eternally anew, breaks forth as -the first moving of subjectivity, - -(2.) In the organism of _plants_ or the _vegetable kingdom_. The plant -rises indeed to a formative process, to a process of assimilation, and -to a process of species. But it is not yet a totality perfectly -organized in itself. Each part of the plant is the whole individual, -each twig is the whole tree. The parts are related indifferently to each -other; the crown can become a root, and the root a crown. The plant, -therefore, does not yet attain a true being _in se_ of individuality; -for, in order that this may be attained, an absolute unity of the -individual is necessary. This unity, which constitutes an individual and -concrete subjectivity, is first seen in - -(3.) The _animal_ organism, the _animal kingdom_. An uninterrupted -intus-susception, free motion and sensation, are first found in the -animal organism. In its higher forms we find an inner warmth and a -voice. In its highest form, man, nature, or rather the spirit, which -works through nature, apprehends itself as conscious individuality, as -Ego. The spirit thus become a free and rational self, has now completed -its self-emancipation from nature. - -III. PHILOSOPHY OF MIND.--1. THE SUBJECTIVE MIND.--The mind is the truth -of nature; it is being removed from its estrangement, and become -identical with itself. Its formal essence, therefore, is freedom, the -possibility of abstracting itself from every thing else; its material -essence is the capacity of manifesting itself as mind, as a conscious -rationality,--of positing the intellectual universe as its kingdom, and -of building a structure of objective rationality. In order, however, to -know itself, and every thing rational,--in order to posit nature more and -more negatively, the mind, like nature, must pass through a series of -stages or emancipative acts. As it comes from nature and rises from its -externality to being, _per se_, it is at first soul or spirit of nature, -and as such, it is an object of _anthropology_ in a strict sense. As -this spirit of nature, it sympathizes with the general planetary life of -the earth, and is in this respect subject to diversity of climate, and -change of seasons and days; it sympathizes with the geographical portion -of the world which it occupies, _i. e._, it is related to a diversity of -race; still farther, it bears a national type, and is moreover -determined by mode of life, formation of the body, &c., while these -natural conditions work also upon its intelligent and moral character. -Lastly, we must here take notice of the way in which nature has -determined the individual subject, _i. e._ his natural temperament, -character, idiosyncrasy, &c. To this belong the natural changes of life, -age, sexual relation, sleep, and waking. In all this the mind is still -buried in nature, and this middle condition between being _per se_ and -the sleep of nature, is sensation, the hollow forming of the mind in its -unconscious and unenlightened (_verstandlos_) individuality. A higher -stage of sensation is feeling, _i. e._ sensation _in se_, where being -_per se_ appears; feeling in its completed form is self-feeling. Since -the subject, in self-feeling, is buried in the peculiarity of his -sensations, but at the same time concludes himself with himself, as a -subjective one, the self-feeling is seen to be the preliminary step to -consciousness. The Ego now appears as the shaft in which all these -sensations, representations, cognitions and thoughts are preserved, -which is with them all, and constitutes the centre in which they all -come together. The mind as conscious, as a conscious being _per se_, as -Ego, is the object of the _phenomenology_ of consciousness. - -The mind was individual, so long as it was interwoven with nature; it -is consciousness or Ego when it has divested itself of nature. When -distinguishing itself from nature, the mind withdraws itself into -itself, and that with which it was formerly interwoven, and which gave -it a peculiar (earthly, national, &c.) determination, stands now -distinct from it, as its external world (earth, people, &c). The awaking -of the Ego is thus the act by which the objective world, as such, is -created; while on the other hand, the Ego awakens to a conscious -subjectivity only _in_ the objective world, and in distinction from it. -The Ego, over against the objective world, is consciousness in the -strict sense of the word. Consciousness becomes self-consciousness by -passing through the stages of immediate sensuous consciousness, -perception, and understanding, and convincing itself in this its -formative history, that it has only to do with itself, while it believed -that it had to do with something objective. Again, self-consciousness -becomes universal or rational self-consciousness, as follows: In its -strivings to stamp the impress of the Ego upon the objective, and thus -make the objective subjective, it falls in conflict with other -self-consciousnesses, and begins a war of extermination against them, -but rises from this _bellum omnium contra omnes_, as common -consciousness, as the finding of the proper mean between command and -obedience, _i. e._ as truly universal, _i. e._ rational -self-consciousness. The rational self-consciousness is actually free, -because, when related to another, it is really related to itself, and in -all is still with itself; it has emancipated itself from nature. We have -now mind as mind, divested of its naturalness and subjectivity, and as -such, it is an object of _Pneumatology_. - -Mind is at first theoretical mind, or intelligence, and then practical -mind, or will. It is theoretical in that it has to do with the rational -as something given, and now posits it as its own; it is practical in -that it immediately wills the subjective content (truth), which it has -as its own, to be freed from its one-sided subjective form, and -transformed into an objective. The practical mind is, so far, the truth -of the theoretical. The theoretical mind, in its way to the practical, -passes through the stages of intuition, representation, and thought; and -the will on its side forms itself into a free will through impulse, -desire, and inclination. The free will, as having a being in space -(_Daseyn_), is the _objective mind_, right, and the state. In right, -morals and the state, the freedom and rationality, which are chosen by -the will, take on an objective form. Every natural determination and -impulse now becomes moralized, and comes up to view again as ethical -institute, as right and duty (the sexual impulse now appears as -marriage, and the impulse of revenge as civil punishment, &c.) - -2. THE OBJECTIVE MIND.--(1.) The immediate objective being (_Daseyn_) of -the free will is _the right_. The individual, so far as he is capable of -rights, so far as he has rights and exercises them, is a person. The -maxim of right is, therefore, be a person and have respect to other -persons. The person allows himself an external sphere for his freedom, a -substratum in which he can exercise his will: as property, possession. -As person I have the right of possession, the absolute right of -appropriation, the right to cast my will over every thing, which thereby -becomes mine. But there exist other persons besides myself. My right is, -therefore, limited through the right of others. There thus arises a -conflict between will and will, which is settled in a compact, in a -common will. The relation of compact is the first step towards the -state, but only the _first_ step, for if we should define the state as a -compact of all with all, this would sink it in the category of private -rights and private property. It does not depend upon the will of the -individual whether he will live in the state or not. The relation of -compact refers to private property. In a compact, therefore, two wills -merge themselves in a common will, which as such becomes a right. But -just here lies also the possibility of a conflict between the individual -will and the right or the universal will. The separation of the two is a -wrong (civil wrong, fraud, crime). This separation demands a -reconciliation, a restoration of the right or the universal will from -its momentary suppression or negation, by the particular will. The right -restoring itself in respect of the particular will, and establishing a -negation of the wrong, is punishment. Those theories, which found the -right of punishment in some end of warning or improvement, mistake the -essence of punishment. Threatening, warning, &c., are finite ends, _i. -e._ means, and moreover uncertain means: but an act of righteousness -should not be made a means; righteousness is not exercised in order that -any thing other than itself shall be gained. The fulfilment and -self-manifestation of righteousness is absolute end, self-end. The -particular views we have mentioned, can only be considered in reference -to the mode of punishment. The punishment which is inflicted on a -criminal, is _his_ right, _his_ rationality, _his_ law, beneath which he -should be subsumed. His act comes back upon himself. Hegel also defends -capital punishment whose abolition seemed to him as an untimely -sentimentalism. - -(2.) The removal of the opposition of the universal and particular will -in the subject constitutes _morality_. In morality the freedom of the -will is carried forward to a self-determination of the subjectivity, and -the abstract right becomes duty and virtue. The moral standpoint is the -standpoint of conscience, it is the right of the subjective will, the -right of a free ethical decision. In the consideration of strict right, -it is no inquiry what my principle or my view might be, but in morality -the question is at once directed towards the purpose and moving spring -of the will. Hegel calls this standpoint of moral reflection and dutiful -action for a reason--morality, in distinction from a substantial, -unconditioned and unreflecting ethics. This standpoint has three -elements; (1) the element of resolution (_vorsatz_), where we consider -the inner determination of the acting subject, that which allows an act -to be ascribed only to me, and the blame of it to rest only on my will -(imputation); (2) the element of purpose, where the completed act is -regarded not according to its consequences, but according to its -relative worth in reference to myself. The resolution was still -internal; but now the act is completed, and I must suffer myself to -judge according to the constituents of the act, because I must have -known the circumstances under which I acted; (3) the element of the -good, where the act is judged according to its universal worth. The good -is peculiarly the reconciliation of the particular subjective will with -the universal will, or with the conception of the will; in other words, -to will the rational is good. Opposed to this is evil, or the elevation -of the subjective will against the universal, the attempt to set up the -peculiar and individual choice as absolute; in other words, to will the -irrational is evil. - -(3.) In morality we had conscience and the abstract good (the good which -ought to be) standing over against each other. The concrete identity of -the two, the union of subjective and objective good, is _ethics_. In the -ethical the good has become actualized in an existing world, and a -nature of self-consciousness. - -The ethical mind is seen at first immediately, or in a natural form, as -marriage and the _family_. Three elements meet together in marriage, -which should not be separated, and which are so often and so wrongly -isolated. Marriage is (1) a sexual relation, and is founded upon a -difference of sex; it is, therefore, something other than Platonic love -or monkish asceticism; (2) it is a civil contract; (3) it is love. Yet -Hegel lays no great stress upon this subjective element in concluding -upon marriage, for a reciprocal affection will spring up in the married -life. It is more ethical when a determination to marry is first, and a -definite personal affection follows afterwards, for marriage is most -prominently duty. Hegel would, therefore, place the greatest obstacles -in the way of a dissolution of marriage. He has also developed and -described in other respects the family state with a profound ethical -feeling. - -Since the family becomes separated into a multitude of families, it is a -_civil society_, in which the members, though still independent -individuals, are bound in unity by their wants, by the constitution of -rights as a means of security for person and property, and by an outward -administrative arrangement. Hegel distinguished the civil society from -the state in opposition to most modern theorists upon the subject, who, -regarding it as the great end of the state to give security of property -and of personal freedom, reduced the state to a civil society. But on -such a standpoint which would make the state wholly of wants and of -rights, it is impossible, _e. g._ to conceive of war. On the ground of -civil society each one stands for himself, is independent, and makes -himself as end, while every thing else is a means for him. But the -state, on the contrary, knows no independent individuals, each one of -whom may regard and pursue only his own well-being; but in the state, -the whole is the end, and the individual is the means.--For the -administration of justice, Hegel, in opposition to those of our time who -deny the right of legislation, would have written and intelligible laws, -which should be within reach of every one; still farther, justice should -be administered by a public trial by jury.--In respect of the -organization of civil society, Hegel expresses a great preference for a -corporation. Sanctity of marriage, he says, and honor in corporations, -are the two elements around which the disorganization of civil society -turns. - -Civil society passes over into the _state_ since the interest of the -individual loses itself in the idea of an ethical whole. The state is -the ethical idea actualized, it is the ethical mind as it rules over the -action and knowledge of the individuals conceived in it. Finally the -states themselves, since they appear as individuals in an attracting or -repelling relation to each other, represent, in their destiny, in their -rise and fall, the process of the _world's history_. - -In his apprehension of the state, Hegel approached very near the ancient -notion, which merged the individual and the right of individuality, -wholly in the will of the state. He held fast to the omnipotence of the -state in the ancient sense. Hence his resistance to modern liberalism, -which would allow individuals to postulate, to criticize, and to will -according to their improved knowledge. The state is with Hegel the -rational and ethical substance in which the individual has to live, it -is the existing reason to which the individual has to submit himself -with a free view. He regarded a limited monarchy as the best form of -government, after the manner of the English constitution, to which Hegel -was especially inclined, and in reference to which he uttered his -well-known saying that the king was but the dot upon the i. There must -be an individual, Hegel supposes, who can _affirm_ for the state, who -can prefix an "_I will_" to the resolves of the state, and who can be -the head of a formal decision. The personality of a state, he says, "is -only actual as a person, as monarch." Hence Hegel defends hereditary -monarchy, but he places the nobility by its side as a mediating element -between people and prince--not indeed to control or limit the government, -nor to maintain the rights of the people, but only that the people may -experience that there is a good rule, that, the consciousness of the -people may be with the government and that the state may enter into the -subjective consciousness of the people. - -States and the minds of individual races pour their currents into the -stream of the world's history. The strife, the victory, and the -subjection of the spirits of individual races, and the passing over of -the world spirit from one people to another, is the content of the -world's history. The development of the world's history is generally -connected with some ruling race, which carries in itself the world -spirit in its present stage of development, and in distinction from -which the spirits of other races have no rights. Thus these race-spirits -stand around the throne of the absolute spirit, as the executors of its -actualization, as the witnesses and adornment of its glory. - -3. THE ABSOLUTE MIND.--(1.) _Æsthetics_. The absolute mind is immediately -present to the sensuous intuition as the beautiful or as art. The -beautiful is the appearance of the idea through a sensible medium (a -crystal, color, tone, poetry); it is the idea actualized in the form of -a limited phenomenon. To the beautiful (and to its subordinate kinds, -the simply beautiful, the sublime, and the comical) two factors always -belong, thought and matter; but both these are inseparable from each -other; the matter is the outer phenomenon of the thought, and should -express nothing but the thought which inspires it and shines through it. -The different ways in which matter and form are connected, furnish the -different forms of art. In the symbolic form of art the matter -preponderates; the thought presses through it, and brings out the ideal -only with difficulty. In the classic form of art, the ideal has attained -its adequate existence in the matter; content and form are absolutely -befitting each other. Lastly, in romantic art, the mind preponderates, -and the matter is a mere appearance and sign through which the mind -every where breaks out, and struggles up above the material. The system -of particular arts is connected with the different forms of art; but the -distinction of one particular art from another, depends especially upon -the difference of the material. - -(_a._) The beginning of art is _Architecture_. It belongs essentially to -the symbolic form of art, since in it the sensible matter far -preponderates, and it first seeks the true conformity between content -and form. Its material is stone, which it fashions according to the laws -of gravity. Hence it has the character of magnitude, of silent -earnestness, of oriental sublimity. - -(_b._) _Sculpture._--The material of this art is also stone, but it -advances from the inorganic to the organic. It gives the stone a bodily -form, and makes it only a serving vehicle of the thought. In sculpture, -the material, the stone, since it represents the body, that building of -the soul, in its clearness and beauty, disappears wholly in the ideal; -there is nothing left of the material which does not serve the idea. - -(_c._) _Painting._--This is preeminently a romantic art. It represents, -as sculpture cannot do, the life of the soul, the look, the disposition, -the heart. Its medium is no longer a coarse material substratum, but the -colored surface, and the soul-like play of light; it gives the -_appearance_ only of complete spacial dimension. Hence it is able to -represent in a complete dramatic movement the whole scale of feelings, -conditions of heart, and actions. - -(_d._) _Music._--This leaves out all relation of space. Its material is -sound, the vibration of a sonorous body. It leaves, therefore, the field -of sensuous intuition, and works exclusively upon the sensation. Its -basis is the breast of the sensitive soul. Music is the most subjective -art. - -(_e._) Lastly in _Poetry_, or the speaking art, is the tongue of art -loosed; poetry can represent every thing. Its material is not the mere -sound, but the sound as word, as the sign of a representation, as the -expression of reason. But this material cannot be formed at random, but -only in verse according to certain rhythmical and musical laws. In -poetry, all other arts return again; as epic, representing in a pleasing -and extended narrative the figurative history of races, it corresponds -to the plastic arts; as lyric, expressing some inner condition of soul, -it corresponds to music; as dramatic poetry, exhibiting the struggles -between characters acting out of directly opposite interests, it is the -union of both these arts. - -(2.) _Philosophy of Religion._--Poetry forms the transition from art to -religion. In art the idea was present for the intuition, in religion it -is present for the representation. The content of every religion is the -reconciliation of the finite with the infinite, of the subject with God. -All religions seek a union of the divine and the human. This was done in -the crudest form by - -(_a._) The natural religions of the oriental world. God is, with them, -but a power of nature, a substance of nature, in comparison with which -the finite and the individual disappear as nothing. - -(_b._) A higher idea of God is attained by the religions of spiritual -individuality, in which the divine is looked upon as subject,--as an -exalted subjectivity, full of power and wisdom in Judaism, the religion -of sublimity; as a circle of plastic divine forms in the Grecian -religion, the religion of beauty; as an absolute end of the state in the -Roman religion, the religion of the understanding or of design. - -(_c._) The revealed or Christian religion first establishes a positive -reconciliation between God and the world, by beholding the actual unity -of the divine and the human in the person of Christ, the God-man, and -apprehending God as triune, _i. e._ as Himself, as incarnate, and as -returning from this incarnation to Himself. The intellectual content of -revealed religion, or of Christianity, is thus the same as that of -speculative philosophy; the only difference being, that in the one case -the content is represented in the form of the representation, in the -form of a history; while, in the other, it appears in the form of the -conception. Stripped of its form of religious representation, we have -now the standpoint of - -(3.) _The Absolute Philosophy_, or the thought knowing itself as all -truth, and reproducing the whole natural and intellectual universe from -itself, having the system of philosophy for its development--a closed -circle of circles. - - -With Hegel closes the history of philosophy. The philosophical -developments which have succeeded him, and which are partly a carrying -out of his system, and partly the attempt to lay a new basis for -philosophy, belong to the present, and not yet to history. - -THE END. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 1: This word literally means _clearing up_, but has a -philosophical sense for which no precise equivalent is found in the -English language. When used physically, it denotes that every -obstruction which prevented the clear sight of the bodily eye is -removed, and when used psychologically it implies the same fact in -reference to our mental vision. The _Aufklärung_ in philosophy is hence -the clearing up of difficulties which have hindered a true philosophical -insight. To express this, I know of no better word than the literal -rendering, "_up-clearing_" or "_clearing up_" which the reader will find -adopted in the following pages.--TRANSLATOR.] - -[Footnote 2: The article on Socrates, from page 52 to page 64, was -translated by Prof. N. G. Clark, of the University of Vermont.] - -[Footnote 3: A German mile is about four and a half English miles.--TR.] - -[Footnote 4: Schelling died August 20th, 1854, at Ragaz, Switzerland, -whither he had gone for the benefit of his health, which had long been -declining.--TRANSLATOR.] - - -D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. - - THE - TWO GREAT ANSWERS - TO THE - RECENT ATTACK ON THE BIBLE. - - -I.--REPLIES TO "ESSAYS AND REVIEWS." - -_With a Preface by the Lord Bishop of Oxford. 1 Vol., 12mo, Cloth_, -$1.50. - -CONTENTS. - - I.--THE EDUCATION OF THE WORLD. By the Rev. E. M. GOULBURN. - - II.--BUNSEN, the CRITICAL SCHOOL, and Dr. WILLIAMS. By the Rev. - J. H. ROSE. - - III.--MIRACLES. By the Rev. C. A. 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Let the reader be as adverse as he may to the - writer's philosophy, let him be as devoted to the obstructive - as Mr. Buckle is to the progress party, let him be as orthodox - in church creed as the other is heterodox, as dogmatic as his - author is skeptical--let him, in short, find his prejudices - shocked at every turn of the argument, and all his - prepossessions whistled down the wind--still there is so much - in this extraordinary volume to stimulate reflection, and - excite to inquiry, and provoke to earnest investigation, - perhaps (to this or that reader) on a track hitherto - untrodden, and across the virgin soil of untilled fields, - fresh woods and pastures new--that we may fairly defy the most - hostile spirit, the most mistrustful and least sympathetic, to - read it through without being glad of having done so, or, - having begun it, or even glanced at almost any one of its 854 - pages, to pass it away unread.--_New Monthly (London) - Magazine_. - - -History of the Romans under the Empire. - - By CHARLES MERIVALE, B.D., late Fellow of St. John's College. - 7 Vols. small 8vo. Handsomely printed on tinted paper. Price, - $2 per Vol. (Nearly ready.) - - CONTENTS: - - Vols. I and II.--Comprising the History to the Fall of Julius - Cæsar. - - Vol. III.--To the Establishment of the Monarchy by Augustus. - - Vols. IV. and V.--From Augustus to Claudius, B.C. 27 to A.D. - 54. - - Vol. VI.--From the Reign of Nero, A.D. 54, to the Fall of - Jerusalem, A.D. 70. - - Vol. VII.--From the Destruction of Jerusalem, A.D. 70, to the - Death of M. Aurelius. - - This valuable work terminates at the point where the narrative - of Gibbon commences. - - ... "When we enter on a more searching criticism of the two - writers, it must be admitted that Merivale has as firm a grasp - of his subject as Gibbon, and that his work is characterized - by a greater freedom from prejudice, and a sounder philosophy. - - ... "This history must always stand as a splendid monument of - his learning, his candor, and his vigorous grasp of intellect. - Though he is in some respects inferior to Macaulay and Grote, - he must still be classed with them as one of the second great - triumvirate of English historians."--_North American Review. - April, 1863._ - - - NEW VIEWS OF HEAT AND OF THE FORCES. - - HEAT, - - CONSIDERED AS A MODE OF MOTION, - - Being a Course of Twelve Lectures delivered before the Royal - Institution of Great Britain. - - BY JOHN TYNDALL, F. R. S. - - PROFESSOR OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE ROYAL - INSTITUTION--AUTHOR OF THE "GLACIERS OF THE ALPS." - - With One Hundred Illustrations. 8vo., 480 pages. Price, $2.00. - - This volume is by the gifted successor of Faraday, the young - Professor of Natural Philosophy in the Royal Institution of - England. The author, himself celebrated as a discoverer, an - ingenious and fertile experimenter, a bold but disciplined - thinker, a vivid and imaginative speaker, and dealing with the - most splendid generalizations and the grandest phenomena of - nature, was listened to with the profoundest attention. The - new views of the nature of heat, its connections with the - other forms of force, and the sublime part it plays in the - scheme of Nature--views which have but recently been adopted in - the scientific world--are here for the first time brought - forward, and illustrated with a resource of experiment, a - brilliancy of illustration, and a clearness and eloquence of - style for which Professor Tyndall is unequalled. - - +From the American Journal of Science.+--With all the skill which - has made Faraday the master of experimental science in Great - Britain, Professor Tyndall enjoys the advantage of a superior - general culture, and is thus enabled to set forth his - philosophy with all the graces of eloquence and the finish of - superior diction. With a simplicity, and absence of - technicalities which render his explanations lucid to - unscientific minds, and at the same time a thoroughness and - originality by which he instructs the most learned, he unfolds - all the modern philosophy of heat. - - +New York Times.+--Professor Tyndall's course of lectures on heat - is one of the most beautiful illustrations of a mode of - handling scientific subjects, which is comparatively new, and - which promises the best results, both to science and to - literature generally; we mean the treatment of subjects in a - style at once _profound_ and _popular_. The title of Professor - Tyndall's work indicates the theory of heat held by him, and - indeed the only one now held by scientific men--_it is a mode - of motion_. - - +Boston Journal.+--He exhibits the curious and beautiful workings - of nature in a most delightful manner. Before the reader - particles of water lock themselves or fly asunder with a - movement regulated like a dance. 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APPLETON & CO., - - 443 & 445 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. - - The Life and Correspondence of THEODORE PARKER, Minister of - the Twenty-eighth Congregational Society, Boston. By JOHN - WEISS. With two Portraits on Steel, fac-simile of Handwriting, - and nineteen Wood Engravings. 2 vols., 8vo. 1,008 pages. - Price, $6. - - "These volumes contain an account of Mr. Parker's childhood - and self-education; of the development of his theological - ideas; of his scholarly and philosophical pursuits; and of his - relation to the Anti-Slavery cause, and to the epoch in - America which preceded the civil war. His two visits to Europe - are described in letters and extracts from his journal. An - autobiographical fragment is introduced in relation to Mr. - Parker's early life, and his letters of friendship on - literary, speculative, and political topics are freely - interspersed. 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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 History of Philosophy in Epitome - -Author: Albert Schwegler - -Translator: Julius H. Seelye - -Release Date: November 19, 2012 [EBook #41412] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY IN EPITOME *** - - - - -Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Turgut Dincer and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of -public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital -Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41412 ***</div> <div class="box" style="padding: .5em;">Transcriber’s note:<br /> The letters A and B with the plus sign at the top @@ -16017,384 +15976,6 @@ etc., and <span class="smcap">Wm. H. Dorman</span>. One vol., imperial 8vo. Cont </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A History of Philosophy in Epitome, by -Albert Schwegler - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY IN EPITOME *** - -***** This file should be named 41412-h.htm or 41412-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/4/1/41412/ - -Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Turgut Dincer and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of -public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital -Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 History of Philosophy in Epitome - -Author: Albert Schwegler - -Translator: Julius H. Seelye - -Release Date: November 19, 2012 [EBook #41412] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY IN EPITOME *** - - - - -Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Turgut Dincer and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of -public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital -Libraries.) - - - - - - - +---------------------------------------------------+ - | Transcriber's note: | - | | - | The letters A and B with the plus sign at the top | - | are shown as [+A] and [+B] | - +---------------------------------------------------+ - - - A - - HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY - - IN EPITOME, - - BY - - DR. ALBERT SCHWEGLER. - - _TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL GERMAN_, - - BY - - JULIUS H. SEELYE. - - THIRD EDITION. - - NEW YORK: - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, - 443 & 445 BROADWAY. - LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN. - 1864. - - -ENTERED, according to act of Congress, in the year 1856, - -BY JULIUS H. SEELYE, - -In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the -Northern District of New York. - -INTRODUCTORY NOTE - -BY HENRY B. SMITH, D. D. - - -The History of Philosophy, by Dr. Albert Schwegler, is considered in -Germany as the best concise manual upon the subject from the school of -Hegel. Its account of the Greek and of the German systems, is of -especial value and importance. It presents the whole history of -speculation in its consecutive order. Though following the method of -Hegel's more extended lectures upon the progress of philosophy, and -though it makes the system of Hegel to be the ripest product of -philosophy, yet it also rests upon independent investigations. It will -well reward diligent study, and is one of the best works for a text-book -in our colleges, upon this neglected branch of scientific investigation. -The translation is made by a competent person, and gives, I doubt not, a -faithful rendering of the original. - - - HENRY B. SMITH. - - UNION THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, NEW YORK, _Nov. 6, 1855_. - - -TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. - - -Schwegler's History of Philosophy originally appeared in the "_Neue -Encyklopaedie fuer Wissenschaften und Kuenste_." Its great value soon -awakened a call for its separate issue, in which form it has attained a -very wide circulation in Germany. It is found in the hands of almost -every student in the philosophical department of a German university, -and is highly esteemed for its clearness, conciseness, and -comprehensiveness. - -The present translation was commenced in Germany three years ago, and -has been carefully finished. It was undertaken with the conviction that -the work would not lose its interest or its value in an English dress, -and with the hope that it might be of wider service in such a form to -students of philosophy here. It was thought especially, that a proper -translation of this manual would supply a want for a suitable text-book -on this branch of study, long felt by both teachers and students in our -American colleges. - -The effort has been made to translate, and not to paraphrase the -author's meaning. Many of his statements might have been amplified -without diffuseness, and made more perceptible to the superficial reader -without losing their interest to the more profound student, but he has -so happily seized upon the germs of the different systems, that they -neither need, nor would be improved by any farther development, and has, -moreover, presented them so clearly, that no student need have any -difficulty in apprehending them as they are. The translator has -therefore endeavored to represent faithfully and clearly the original -history. As such, he offers his work to the American public, indulging -no hope, and making no efforts for its success beyond that which its own -merits shall ensure. - - - J. H. S. - - SCHENECTADY, N. Y., _January, 1856_. - - -CONTENTS. - - PAGE - - INTRODUCTORY NOTE, by HENRY B. SMITH, D. D. iii - - TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE v - - TABLE OF CONTENTS vii - - SECTION I.--WHAT IS MEANT BY THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY 11 - - II.--CLASSIFICATION 16 - - III.--GENERAL VIEW OF THE PRE-SOCRATIC PHILOSOPHY 17 - 1. The Ionics 17 - 2. The Pythagoreans 18 - 3. The Eleatics 18 - 4. Heraclitus 18 - 5. The Atomists 19 - 6. Anaxagoras 19 - 7. The Sophists 20 - - IV.--THE IONIC PHILOSOPHERS 21 - 1. Thales 21 - 2. Anaximander 22 - 3. Anaximenes 23 - 4. Retrospect 23 - - V.--PYTHAGOREANISM 23 - 1. Its Relative Position 23 - 2. Historical and Chronological 23 - 3. The Pythagorean Principle 24 - 4. Carrying out of this Principle 25 - - VI.--THE ELEATICS 27 - 1. The Relation of the Eleatic Principle - to the Pythagorean 27 - 2. Xenophanes 28 - 3. Parmenides 28 - 4. Zeno 30 - - VII.--HERACLITUS 31 - 1. Relation of the Heraclitic Principle - to the Eleatic 31 - 2. Historical and Chronological 32 - 3. The Principle of the Becoming 32 - 4. The Principle of Fire 33 - 5. Transition to the Atomists 33 - - VIII.--EMPEDOCLES 35 - 1. General View 35 - 2. The Four Elements 35 - 3. The Two Powers 36 - 4. Relation of the Empedoclean to the Eleatic - and Heraclitic Philosophy 36 - - IX.--THE ATOMISTIC PHILOSOPHY 37 - 1. Its Propounders 37 - 2. The Atoms 37 - 3. The Fulness and the Void 38 - 4. The Atomistic Necessity 38 - 5. Relative Position of the Atomistic Philosophy 39 - - X.--ANAXAGORAS 40 - 1. His Personal History 40 - 2. His Relation to his Predecessors 41 - 3. The Principle of the [Greek: nous] 41 - 4. Anaxagoras as the close of the Pre-Socratic - Realism 42 - - XI.--THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY 43 - 1. The Relation of the Sophistic Philosophy to - the Anaxagorean Principle 43 - 2. Relation of the Sophistic Philosophy to the - Universal Life of that Age 44 - 3. Tendencies of the Sophistic Philosophy 46 - 4. Significance of the Sophistic Philosophy from - its relation to the Culture of the Age 47 - 5. Individual Sophists 48 - 6. Transition to Socrates, and characteristic - of the following Period 51 - - XII.--SOCRATES 52 - 1. His Personal Character 52 - 2. Socrates and Aristophanes 55 - 3. The Condemnation of Socrates 57 - 4. The Genius of Socrates 60 - 5. Sources of the Philosophy of Socrates 61 - 6. Universal Character of the Philosophizing - of Socrates 62 - 7. The Socratic Method 64 - 8. The Socratic Doctrine concerning Virtue 66 - - XIII.--THE PARTIAL DISCIPLES OF SOCRATES 67 - 1. Their Relation to the Socratic Philosophy 67 - 2. Antisthenes and the Cynics 68 - 3. Aristippus and the Cyrenians 69 - 4. Euclid and the Megarians 70 - 5. Plato as the complete Socraticist 71 - - XIV.--PLATO 72 - I. PLATO'S LIFE 72 - 1. His Youth 72 - 2. His Years of Discipline 73 - 3. His Years of Travel 73 - 4. His Years of Instruction 74 - - II. THE INNER DEVELOPMENT OF THE PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY - AND WRITINGS 75 - - III. CLASSIFICATION OF THE PLATONIC SYSTEM 82 - - IV. THE PLATONIC DIALECTICS 83 - 1. Conception of Dialectics 83 - 2. What is Science? 84 - (1.) As opposed to Sensation 84 - (2.) The Relation of Knowing to Opinion 86 - (3.) The Relation of Science to Thinking 86 - 3. The Doctrine of Ideas in its Genesis 87 - 4. Positive Exposition of the Doctrine of Ideas 91 - 5. The Relation of Ideas to the Phenomenal World 93 - 6. The Idea of the Good and the Deity 95 - - V. THE PLATONIC PHYSICS 96 - 1. Nature 96 - 2. The Soul 98 - - VI. THE PLATONIC ETHICS 100 - 1. Good and Pleasure 100 - 2. Virtue 102 - 3. The State 102 - - XV.--THE OLD ACADEMY 107 - - XVI.--ARISTOTLE 108 - I. LIFE AND WRITINGS OF ARISTOTLE 108 - II. UNIVERSAL CHARACTER AND DIVISION OF THE - ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY 109 - III. LOGIC AND METAPHYSICS 112 - 1. Conception and Relation of the Two 112 - 2. Logic 113 - 3. Metaphysics 115 - (1.) The Aristotelian Criticism of - the Platonic Doctrine of Ideas 116 - (2.) The Four Aristotelian Principles, - or Causes, and the Relation - of Form and Matter 120 - (3.) Potentiality and Actuality 123 - (4.) The Absolute Divine Spirit 124 - IV. THE ARISTOTELIAN PHYSICS 127 - 1. Motion, Matter, Space, and Time 127 - 2. The Collective Universe 128 - 3. Nature 129 - 4. Man 129 - V. THE ARISTOTELIAN ETHICS 131 - 1. Relation of Ethics to Physics 131 - 2. The Highest Good 132 - 3. Conception of Virtue 134 - 4. The State 135 - VI. THE PERIPATETIC SCHOOL 136 - VII. TRANSITION TO THE POST-ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY 137 - - XVII.--STOICISM 138 - 1. Logic 139 - 2. Physics 140 - 3. Ethics 142 - (1.) Respecting the Relation of Virtue - to Pleasure 142 - (2.) The View of the Stoics concerning - External Good 142 - (3.) Farther Verification of this View 143 - (4.) Impossibility of furnishing a System - of Concrete Moral Duties from this - Standpoint 143 - - XVIII.-EPICUREANISM 145 - - XIX.--SCEPTICISM AND THE NEW ACADEMY 148 - 1. The Old Scepticism 149 - 2. The New Academy 150 - 3. The Later Scepticism 151 - - XX.--THE ROMANS 152 - - XXI.--NEW PLATONISM 154 - 1. Ecstasy as a Subjective State 154 - 2. The Cosmical Principles 154 - 3. The Emanation Theory of the New Platonists 155 - - XXII.--CHRISTIANITY AND SCHOLASTICISM 157 - 1. The Christian Idea 157 - 2. Scholasticism 159 - 3. Nominalism and Realism 160 - - XXIII.--TRANSITION TO THE MODERN PHILOSOPHY 161 - 1. Fall of Scholasticism 161 - 2. The Results of Scholasticism 162 - 3. The Revival of Letters 163 - 4. The German Reformation 164 - 5. The Advancement of the Natural Sciences 165 - 6. Bacon of Verulam 166 - 7. The Italian Philosophers of the Transition Epoch 167 - 8. Jacob Boehme 169 - - XXIV.--DESCARTES 172 - 1. The Beginning of Philosophy with Doubt 173 - 2. Cogito ergo sum 173 - 3. The Nature of Mind deduced from this Principle 173 - 4. The Universal Rule of all Certainty follows from - the same 174 - 5. The Existence of God 174 - 6. Results of this Fact in Philosophy 176 - 7. The Two Substances 177 - 8. The Anthropology of Descartes 177 - 9. Results of the Cartesian System 178 - - XXV.--GEULINCX AND MALEBRANCHE 180 - 1. Geulincx 180 - 2. Malebranche 182 - 3. The Defects of the Philosophy of Descartes 183 - - XXVI.--SPINOZA 184 - 1. The One Infinite Substance 185 - 2. The Two Attributes 186 - 3. The Modes 188 - 4. His Practical Philosophy 189 - - XXVII.--IDEALISM AND REALISM 192 - - XXVIII.--LOCKE 193 - - XXIX.--HUME 198 - - XXX.--CONDILLAC 201 - - XXXI.--HELVETIUS 203 - - XXXII.-THE FRENCH CLEARING UP AND MATERIALISM 205 - 1. The Common Character of the French Philosophers - of this Age 205 - 2. Voltaire 206 - 3. Diderot 206 - 4. La Mettrie's Materialism 207 - 5. Systeme de la Nature 208 - (1.) The Materiality of Man 208 - (2.) The Atheism of this System 209 - (3.) Its Denial of Freedom and Immortality 210 - (4.) The Practical Consequences of these - Principles 210 - - XXXIII.--LEIBNITZ 211 - 1. The Doctrine of Monads 213 - 2. The Monads more accurately determined 214 - 3. The Pre-established Harmony 215 - 4. The Relation of the Deity to the Monads 216 - 5. The Relation of Soul and Body 217 - 6. The Theory of Knowledge 218 - 7. Leibnitz's Theodicee 219 - - XXXIV.--BERKELEY 220 - - XXXV.--WOLFF 222 - 1. Ontology 224 - 2. Cosmology 225 - 3. Rational Psychology 225 - 4. Natural Theology 226 - - XXXVI.--THE GERMAN CLEARING UP 227 - - XXXVII.--TRANSITION TO KANT 229 - 1. Examination of the Faculty of Knowledge 230 - 2. Three Chief Principles of the Kantian Theory - of Knowledge 232 - - XXXVIII.--KANT 235 - I. CRITICK OF PURE REASON 238 - 1. The Transcendental AEsthetics 238 - (1.) The Metaphysical Discussion 239 - (2.) The Transcendental Discussion 239 - 2. The Transcendental Analytic 241 - 3. The Transcendental Dialectics 246 - (1.) The Psychological Ideas 247 - (2.) The Antinomies of Cosmology 248 - (3.) The Ideal of the Pure Reason 249 - (_a._) The Ontological Proof 249 - (_b._) The Cosmological Proof 250 - (_c._) The Physico-Theological - Proof 250 - II. CRITICK OF THE PRACTICAL REASON 252 - (1.) The Analytic 254 - (2.) The Dialectic: What is this Highest - Good? 256 - (_a._) Perfect Virtue or Holiness 257 - (_b._) Perfect Happiness 258 - (_c._) Kant's Views of Religion 259 - III. CRITICK OF THE FACULTY OF JUDGMENT 262 - 1. Critick of the AEsthetic Faculty of Judgment 263 - (1.) Analytic 263 - (2.) Dialectic 265 - 2. Critick of the Teleological Faculty - of Judgment 266 - (1.) Analytic of the Teleological Faculty - of Judgment 267 - (2.) Dialectic 267 - - XXXIX.--TRANSITION TO THE POST-KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY 268 - - XL.--JACOBI 271 - - XLI.--FICHTE 279 - I. THE FICHTIAN PHILOSOPHY IN ITS ORIGINAL FORM 282 - 1. The Theoretical Philosophy of Fichte, - his Wissenschaftslehre, or Theory - of Science 282 - 2. Fichte's Practical Philosophy 295 - II. THE LATER FORM OF FICHTE'S PHILOSOPHY 301 - - XLII.--HERBART 303 - 1. The Basis and Starting Point of Philosophy 304 - 2. The First Act of Philosophy 304 - 3. Remodelling the Conceptions of Experience 305 - 4. Herbart's Reals 306 - 5. Psychology connected with Metaphysics 310 - 6. The Importance of Herbart's Philosophy 311 - - XLIII.--SCHELLING 312 - I. FIRST PERIOD: SCHELLING'S PROCESSION FROM FICHTE 314 - II. SECOND PERIOD: STANDPOINT OF THE DISTINGUISHING - BETWEEN THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE AND OF MIND 318 - 1. Natural Philosophy 318 - (1.) Organic Nature 319 - (2.) Inorganic Nature 321 - (3.) The Reciprocal Determination of the - Organic and Inorganic World 321 - 2. Transcendental Philosophy 322 - (1.) The Theoretical Philosophy 323 - (2.) The Practical Philosophy 324 - (3.) Philosophy of Art 324 - III. THIRD PERIOD: PERIOD OF SPINOZISM, OR THE - INDIFFERENCE OF THE IDEAL AND THE REAL 326 - IV. FOURTH PERIOD: THE DIRECTION OF SCHELLING'S - PHILOSOPHY AS MYSTICAL, AND ALLIED TO NEW - PLATONISM 333 - V. FIFTH PERIOD: ATTEMPT AT A THEOGONY AND COSMOGONY, - AFTER THE MANNER OF JACOB BOEHME 335 - (1.) The Progressive Development of Nature - to Man 337 - (2.) The Development of Mind in History 337 - VI. SIXTH PERIOD 338 - - XLIV.--TRANSITION TO HEGEL 339 - - XLV.--HEGEL 343 - I. SCIENCE OF LOGIC 346 - 1. The Doctrine of Being 347 - (1.) Quality 347 - (2.) Quantity 348 - (3.) Measure 348 - 2. The Doctrine of Essence 349 - (1.) The Essence as such 349 - (2.) Essence and Phenomenon 350 - (3.) Actuality 351 - 3. The Doctrine of the Conception 352 - (1.) The Subjective Conception 352 - (2.) Objectivity 353 - (3.) The Idea 353 - II. THE SCIENCE OF NATURE 353 - 1. Mechanics 354 - 2. Physics 355 - 3. Organics 355 - (1.) Geological Organism 355 - (2.) Vegetable Organism 355 - (3.) Animal Organism 356 - III. PHILOSOPHY OF MIND 356 - 1. The Subjective Mind 356 - 2. The Objective Mind 358 - 3. The Absolute Mind 362 - (1.) AEsthetics 363 - (_a._) Architecture 363 - (_b._) Sculpture 363 - (_c._) Painting 364 - (_d._) Music 364 - (_e._) Poetry 364 - (2.) Philosophy of Religion 364 - (_a._) The Natural Religion of the - Oriental World 364 - (_b._) The Religion of Mental - Individuality 364 - (_c._) Revealed, or the Christian - Religion 365 - (3.) Absolute Philosophy 365 - - -A - -HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. - - - - -SECTION I. - -WHAT IS MEANT BY THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. - - -To philosophize is to reflect; to examine things, in thought. - -Yet in this is the conception of philosophy not sufficiently defined. -Man, as thinking, also employs those practical activities concerned in -the adaptation of means to an end; the whole body of sciences also, even -those which do not in strict sense belong to philosophy, still lie in -the realm of thought. In what, then, is philosophy distinguished from -these sciences, _e. g._ from the science of astronomy, of medicine, or -of rights? Certainly not in that it has a different material to work -upon. Its material is precisely the same as that of the different -empirical sciences. The construction and disposition of the universe, -the arrangement and functions of the human body, the doctrines of -property, of rights and of the state--all these materials belong as truly -to philosophy as to their appropriate sciences. That which is given in -the world of experience, that which is real, is the content likewise of -philosophy. It is not, therefore, in its material but in its form, in -its method, in its mode of knowledge, that philosophy is to be -distinguished from the empirical sciences. These latter derive their -material directly from experience; they find it at hand and take it up -just as they find it. Philosophy, on the other hand, is never satisfied -with receiving that which is given simply as it is given, but rather -follows it out to its ultimate grounds; it examines every individual -thing in reference to a final principle, and considers it as one link in -the whole chain of knowledge. In this way philosophy removes from the -individual thing given in experience, its immediate, individual, and -accidental character; from the sea of empirical individualities, it -brings out that which is common to all; from the infinite and orderless -mass of contingencies it finds that which is necessary, and throws over -all a universal law. In short, philosophy examines the _totality_ of -experience in the form of an _organic system_ in harmony with the laws -of thought. From the above it is seen, that philosophy (in the sense we -have given it) and the empirical sciences have a reciprocal influence; -the latter conditioning the former, while they at the same time are -conditioned by it. We shall, therefore, in the history of the world, no -more find an absolute and complete philosophy, than a complete empirical -science (_Empirik_). Rather is philosophy found only in the form of the -different philosophical systems, which have successively appeared in the -course of history, advancing hand in hand with the progress of the -empirical sciences and the universal, social, and civil culture, and -showing in their advance the different steps in the development and -improvement of human science. The history of philosophy has, for its -object, to represent the content, the succession, and the inner -connection of these philosophical systems. - -The relation of these different systems to each other is thus already -intimated. The historical and collective life of the race is bound -together by the idea of a spiritual and intellectual progress, and -manifests a regular order of advancing, though not always continuous, -stages of development. In this, the fact harmonizes with what we should -expect from antecedent probabilities. Since, therefore, every -philosophical system is only the philosophical expression of the -collective life of its time, it follows that these different systems -which have appeared in history will disclose one organic movement and -form together one rational and internally connected (_gegliedertes_) -system. In all their developments, we shall find one constant order, -grounded in the striving of the spirit ever to raise itself to a higher -point of consciousness and knowledge, and to recognize the whole -spiritual and natural universe, more and more, as its outward being, as -its reality, as the mirror of itself. - -_Hegel_ was the first to utter these thoughts and to consider the -history of philosophy as a united process, but this view, which is, in -its principle, true, he has applied in a way which would destroy the -freedom of human actions, and remove the very conception of contingency, -_i. e._ that any thing should be contrary to reason. Hegel's view is, -that the succession of the systems of philosophy which have appeared in -history, corresponds to the succession of logical categories in a system -of logic. According to him, if, from the fundamental conceptions of -these different philosophical systems, we remove that which pertains to -their outward form or particular application, &c., so do we find the -different steps of the logical conceptions (_e. g._ being, becoming, -existence, being _per se_ (_fuersichseyn_) quantity, &c.). And on the -other hand, if we take up the logical process by itself, we find also in -it the actual historical process. - -This opinion, however, can be sustained neither in its principle nor in -its historical application. It is defective in its principle, because in -history freedom and necessity interpenetrate, and, therefore, while we -find, if we consider it in its general aspects, a rational connection -running through the whole, we also see, if we look solely at its -individual parts, only a play of numberless contingencies, just as the -kingdom of nature, taken as a whole, reveals a rational plan in its -successions, but viewed only in its parts, mocks at every attempt to -reduce them to a preconceived plan. In history we have to do with free -subjectivities, with individuals capable of originating actions, and -have, therefore, a factor which does not admit of a previous -calculation. For however accurately we may estimate the controlling -conditions which may attach to an individual, from the general -circumstances in which he may be placed, his age, his associations, his -nationality, &c., a free will can never be calculated like a -mathematical problem. History is no example for a strict arithmetical -calculation. The history of philosophy, therefore, cannot admit of an -apriori construction; the actual occurrences should not be joined -together as illustrative of a preconceived plan; but the facts, so far -as they can be admitted, after a critical sifting, should be received as -such, and their rational connection be analytically determined. The -speculative idea can only supply the law for the arrangement and -scientific connection of that which may be historically furnished. - -A more comprehensive view, which contradicts the above-given Hegelian -notion, is the following. The actual historical development is, very -generally, different from the theoretical. Historically _e. g._ the -State arose as a means of protection against robbers, while -theoretically it is derived from the idea of rights. So also, even in -the actual history of philosophy, while the logical (theoretical) -process is an ascent from the abstract to the concrete, yet does the -historical development of philosophy, quite generally, descend from the -concrete to the abstract, from intuition to thought, and separates the -abstract from the concrete in those general forms of culture and those -religious and social circumstances, in which the philosophizing subject -is placed. A _system_ of philosophy proceeds synthetically, while the -_history_ of philosophy, _i. e._ the history of the thinking process -proceeds analytically. We might, therefore, with great propriety, adopt -directly the reverse of the Hegelian position, and say that what in -reality is the first, is for us, in fact, the last. This is illustrated -in the Ionic philosophy. It began not with being as an abstract -conception, but with the most concrete, and most apparent, _e. g._ with -the material conception of water, air, &c. Even if we leave the Ionics -and advance to the being of the Eleatics or the becoming of the -Heraclitics, we find, that these, instead of being pure thought -determinations, are only unpurified conceptions, and materially colored -intuitions. Still farther, is the attempt impracticable to refer every -philosophy that has appeared in history to some logical category as its -central principle, because the most of these philosophies have taken, -for their object, the idea, not as an abstract conception, but in its -realization as nature and mind, and, therefore, for the most part, have -to do, not with logical questions, but with those relating to natural -philosophy, psychology and ethics. Hegel should not, therefore, limit -his comparison of the historical and systematic process of development -simply to logic, but should extend it to the whole system of -philosophical science. Granted that the Eleatics, the Heraclitics and -the Atomists may have made such a category as the centre of their -systems, and we may find thus far the Hegelian logic in harmony with the -Hegelian history of philosophy. But if we go farther, how is it? How -with Anaxagoras, the Sophists, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle? We cannot, -certainly, without violence, press one central principle into the -systems of these men, but if we should be able to do it, and could -reduce _e. g._ the philosophy of Anaxagoras to the conception of "the -end," that of the Sophists to the conception of "the appearance," and -the Socratic Philosophy to the conception of "the good,"--yet even then -we have the new difficulty that the historical does not correspond to -the logical succession of these categories. In fact, Hegel himself has -not attempted a complete application of his principle, and indeed gave -it up at the very threshold of the Grecian philosophy. To the Eleatics, -the Heraclitics and the Atomists, the logical categories of "being," -"becoming," and being _per se_ may be successively ascribed, and so far, -as already remarked, the parallelism extends, but no farther. Not only -does Anaxagoras follow with the conception of reason working according -to an end, but if we go back before the Eleatics, we find in the very -beginning of philosophy a total diversity between the logical and -historical order. If Hegel had carried out his principle consistently, -he should have thrown away entirely the Ionic philosophy, for matter is -no logical category; he should have placed the Pythagoreans after the -Eleatics and the Atomists, for in logical order the categories of -quantity follow those of quality; in short, he would have been obliged -to set aside all chronology. Unless this be done, we must be satisfied -with a theoretical reproduction of the course which the thinking spirit -has taken in its history, only so far as we can see in the grand stages -of history a rational progress of thought; only so far as the -philosophical historian, surveying a period of development, actually -finds in it a philosophical acquisition,--the acquisition of a new idea: -but we must guard ourselves against applying to the transition and -intermediate steps, as well as to the whole detail of history, the -postulate of an immanent conformity to law, or an organism in harmony -with our own thoughts. History often winds its way like a serpent in -lines which appear retrogressive, and philosophy, especially, has not -seldom withdrawn herself from a wide and already fruitful field, in -order to settle down upon a narrow strip of land, the limits even of -which she has sought still more closely to abridge. At one time we find -thousands of years expended in fruitless attempts with only a negative -result;--at another, a fulness of philosophical ideas are crowded -together in the experience of a lifetime. There is here no sway of an -immutable and regularly returning law, but history, as the realm of -freedom, will first completely manifest itself at the end of time as the -work of reason. - - - - -SECTION II. - -CLASSIFICATION. - - -A few words will suffice to define our problem and classify its -elements. Where and when does philosophy begin? Manifestly, according to -the analysis made in Sec. I., where a final philosophical principle, a -final ground of being is first sought in a philosophical way,--and hence -with the Grecian philosophy. The Oriental--Chinese and Hindoo--so named -philosophies,--but which are rather theologies or mythologies,--and the -mythic cosmogonies of Greece, in its earliest periods, are, therefore, -excluded from our more definite problem. Like Aristotle, we shall begin -the history of philosophy with Thales. For similar reasons we exclude -also the philosophy of the Christian middle ages, or Scholasticism. This -is not so much a philosophy, as a philosophizing or reflecting within -the already prescribed limits of positive religion. It is, therefore, -essentially theology, and belongs to the science of the history of -Christian doctrines. - -The material which remains after this exclusion, may be naturally -divided into two periods; viz:--ancient--Grecian and Graeco-Romanic--and -modern philosophy. Since a preliminary comparison of the characteristics -of these two epochs could not here be given without a subsequent -repetition, we shall first speak of their inner relations, when we come -to treat of the transition from the one to the other. - -The first epoch can be still farther divided into three periods; (1.) -The pre-Socratic philosophy, _i. e._ from Thales to the Sophists -inclusive; (2.) Socrates, Plato, Aristotle; (3.) The post-Aristotelian -philosophy, including New Platonism. - - - - -SECTION III. - -GENERAL VIEW OF THE PRE-SOCRATIC PHILOSOPHY. - - -1. The universal tendency of the pre-Socratic philosophy is to find some -principle for the explanation of nature. Nature, the most immediate, -that which first met the eye and was the most palpable, was that which -first aroused the inquiring mind. At the basis of its changing -forms,--beneath its manifold appearances, thought they, lies a first -principle which abides the same through all change. What then, they -asked, is this principle? What is the original ground of things? Or, -more accurately, what element of nature is the fundamental element? To -solve this inquiry was the problem of the _Ionic_ natural philosophers. -One proposes as a solution, water, another, air, and a third, an -original chaotic matter. - -2. The _Pythagoreans_ attempted a higher solution of this problem. The -proportions and dimensions of matter rather than its sensible -concretions, seemed to them to furnish the true explanation of being. -They, accordingly, adopted as the principle of their philosophy, that -which would express a determination of proportions, _i. e._ numbers. -"Number is the essence of all things," was their position. Number is the -mean between the immediate sensuous intuition and the pure thought. -Number and measure have, to be sure, nothing to do with matter only in -so far as it possesses extension, and is capable of division in space -and time, but yet we should have no numbers or measures if there were no -matter, or nothing which could meet the intuitions of our sense. This -elevation above matter, which is at the same time a cleaving to matter, -constitutes the essence and the character of Pythagoreanism. - -3. Next come the _Eleatics_, who step absolutely beyond that which is -given in experience, and make a complete abstraction of every thing -material. This abstraction, this negation of all division in space and -time, they take as their principle, and call it pure being. Instead of -the sensuous principle of the Ionics, or the symbolic principle of the -Pythagoreans, the Eleatics, therefore, adopt an intelligible principle. - -4. Herewith closes the analytic, the first course in the development of -Grecian philosophy, to make way for the second, or synthetic course. The -Eleatics had sacrificed to their principle of pure being, the existence -of the world and every finite existence. But the denial of nature and -the world could not be maintained. The reality of both forced itself -upon the attention, and even the Eleatics had affirmed it, though in -guarded and hypothetical terms. But from their abstract being there was -no passage back to the sensuous and concrete; their principle ought to -have explained the being of events, but it did not. To find a principle -for the explanation of these, a principle which would account for the -becoming, the event was still the problem. _Heraclitus_ solved it, by -asserting that, inasmuch as being has no more reality than not being, -therefore the unity of the two, or in other words the becoming, is the -absolute principle. He held that it belonged to the very essence of -finite being that it be conceived in a continual flow, in an endless -stream. "Every thing flows." We have here the conception of original -energy, instead of the Ionic original matter; the first attempt to -explain being and its motion from a principle analytically attained. -From the time of Heraclitus, this inquiry after the cause of the -becoming, remained the chief interest and the moving spring of -philosophical development. - -5. Becoming is the unity of being and not-being, and into these two -elements is the Heraclitic principle consciously analyzed by the -_Atomists_. Heraclitus had uttered the principle of the becoming, but -only as a fact of experience. He had simply expressed it as a law, but -had not explained it. The necessity for this universal law yet remained -to be proved. WHY is every thing in a perpetual flow--in an eternal -movement? From the dynamical combination of matter and the moving force, -the next step was to a consciously determined distinction, to a -mechanical division of the two. Thus Empedocles combining the doctrines -of Heraclitus and Parmenides, considered matter as the abiding being, -while force was the ground of the movement. But the Atomists still -considered the moving mythic energies as forces; Empedocles regarded -them as love and hate; and Democritus as unconscious necessity. The -result was, therefore, that the becoming was rather limited as a means -for the mechanical explanation of nature, than itself explained. - -6. Despairing of any merely materialistic explanation of the becoming, -_Anaxagoras_ next appears, and places a world-forming Intelligence by -the side of matter. He recognized mind as the primal causality, to which -the existence of the world, together with its determined arrangement and -design (_zweckmaessigkeit_) must be referred. In this, philosophy gained -a great principle, viz.--an ideal one. But Anaxagoras did not know how to -fully carry out his principles. Instead of a theoretical comprehension -of the universe--instead of deriving being from the idea, he grasped -again after some mechanical explanation. His "world-forming reason" -serves him only as a first impulse, only as a moving power. It is to him -a _Deus ex machina_. Notwithstanding, therefore, his glimpse of -something higher than matter, yet was Anaxagoras only a physical -philosopher, like his predecessors. Mind had not yet appeared to him as -a true force above nature, as an organizing soul of the universe. - -7. It is, therefore, a farther progress in thought, to comprehend -accurately the distinction between mind and nature, and to recognize -mind as something higher and contra-distinguished from all natural -being. This problem fell to the _Sophists_. They entangled in -contradictions, the thinking which had been confined to the object, to -that which was given, and gave to the objective world which had before -been exalted above the subject, a subordinate position in the dawning -and yet infantile consciousness of the superiority of subjective -thinking. The Sophists carried their principle of subjectivity, though -at first this was only negative, into the form of the universal -religious and political changing condition (_Aufklaerung_).[1] They stood -forth as the destroyers of the whole edifice of thought that had been -thus far built, until _Socrates_ appeared, and set up against this -principle of _empirical_ subjectivity, that of the _absolute_ -subjectivity,--that of the spirit in the form of a free moral will, and -the thought is positively considered as something higher than existence, -as the truth of all reality. With the Sophist closes our first period, -for with these the oldest philosophy finds its self-destruction -(_Selbstaufloesung_). - - - - -SECTION IV. - -THE IONIC PHILOSOPHERS. - - -1. THALES.--At the head of the Ionic natural philosophers, and therefore -at the head of philosophy, the ancients are generally agreed in placing -Thales of Miletus, a cotemporary of Croesus and Solon; although this -beginning lies more in the region of tradition than of history. The -philosophical principle to which he owes his place in the history of -philosophy is, that, "the principle (the primal, the original ground) of -all things is water; from water every thing arises and into water every -thing returns." But simply to assume water as the original ground of -things was not to advance beyond his myth-making predecessors and their -cosmologies. Aristotle, himself, when speaking of Thales, refers to the -old "theologians,"--meaning, doubtless, Homer and Hesiod,--who had -ascribed to Oceanus and Thetis, the origin of all things. Thales, -however, merits his place as the beginner of philosophy, because he made -the first attempt to establish his physical principle, without resorting -to a mythical representation, and, therefore, brought into philosophy a -scientific procedure. He is the first who has placed his foot upon the -ground of a logical (_verstaendig_) explanation of nature. We cannot now -say with certainty, how he came to adopt his principle, though he might -have been led to it, by perceiving that dampness belonged to the seed -and nourishment of things; that warmth is developed from moisture; and -that, generally, moisture might be the plastic, living and life-giving -principle. From the condensation and expansion of this first principle, -he derives, as it seems, the changes of things, though the way in which -this is done, he has not accurately determined. - -The philosophical significance of Thales does not appear to extend any -farther. He was not a speculative philosopher after a later mode. -Philosophical book-making was not at all the order of his day, and he -does not seem to have given any of his opinions a written form. On -account of his ethico-political wisdom, he is numbered among the -so-named "seven wise men," and the characteristics which the ancients -furnish concerning him only testify to his practical understanding. He -is said _e. g._ to have first calculated an eclipse of the sun, to have -superintended the turning of the course of the Halys under Croesus, &c. -When subsequent narrators relate that he had asserted the unity of the -world, had set up the idea of a world-soul, and had taught the -immortality of the soul and the personality of God, it is doubtless an -unhistorical reference of later ideas to a standpoint, which was, as -yet, far from being developed. - -2. ANAXIMANDER.--Anaximander, sometimes represented by the ancients as a -scholar and sometimes as a companion of Thales, but who was, at all -events, younger than the latter, sought to carry out still farther his -principles. The original essence which he assumed, and which he is said -to have been the first to have named principle ([Greek: arche]), he -defined as the "unlimited, eternal and unconditioned," as that which -embraced all things and ruled all things, and which, since it lay at the -basis of all determinateness of the finite and the changeable, is itself -infinite and undeterminate. How we are to regard this original essence -of Anaximander is a matter of dispute. Evidently it was not one of the -four common elements, though we must not, therefore, think it was -something incorporeal and immaterial. Anaximander probably conceived it -as the original matter before it had separated into determined -elements,--as that which was first in the order of time, or what is in -our day called the chemical indifference in the opposition of elements. -In this respect his original essence is indeed "unlimited" and -"undetermined," _i. e._ has no determination of quality nor limit of -quantity, yet it is not, therefore, in any way, a pure dynamical -principle, as perhaps the "friendship" and "enmity" of Empedocles might -have been, but it was only a more philosophical expression for the same -thought, which the old cosmogonies have attempted to utter in their -representation of chaos. Accordingly, Anaximander suffers the original -opposition of cold and warm, of dry and moist (_i. e._ the basis of the -four elements) to be secreted from his original essence, a clear proof -that it was only the undeveloped, unanalyzed, potential being of these -elemental opposites. - -3. ANAXIMENES.--Anaximenes, who is called by some the scholar, and by -others the companion of Anaximander, turned back more closely to the -view of Thales, in that he made air as the principle of all things. The -perception that air surrounds the whole world, and that breath -conditions the activity of life, seems to have led him to his position. - -4. RETROSPECT.--The whole philosophy of the three Ionic sages may be -reduced to these three points, viz:--(1.) They sought for the universal -essence of concrete being; (2.) They found this essence in a material -substance or substratum; (3.) They gave some intimation respecting the -derivation of the elements from this original matter. - - - - -SECTION V. - -PYTHAGOREANISM. - - -1. ITS RELATIVE POSITION.--The development of the Ionic philosophy -discloses the tendency to abstract matter from all else; though they -directed this process solely to the determined _quality_ of matter. It -is this abstraction carried to a higher step, when we look away from the -sensible concretions of matter, and no more regard its _qualitative_ -determinateness as water, air, &c., but only direct our attention to its -_quantitative_ determinateness,--to its space-filling property. But the -determinateness of quantity is number, and this is the principle and -standpoint of Pythagoreanism. - -2. HISTORICAL AND CHRONOLOGICAL.--The Pythagorean doctrine of numbers is -referred to Pythagoras of Samos, who is said to have flourished between -540 and 500 B. C. He dwelt in the latter part of his life at Crotonia, -in Magna Grecia, where he founded a society, or, more properly, an -order, for the moral and political regeneration of the lower Italian -cities. Through this society, this new direction of philosophy seems to -have been introduced,--though more as a mode of life than in the form of -a scientific theory. What is related concerning the life of Pythagoras, -his journeys, the new order which he founded, his political influence -upon the lower Italian cities, &c., is so thoroughly interwoven with -traditions, legends, and palpable fabrications, that we can be certain -at no point that we stand upon a historical basis. Not only the old -Pythagoreans, who have spoken of him, delighted in the mysterious and -esoteric, but even his new-Platonistic biographers, Porphyry and -Jamblichus, have treated his life as a historico-philosophical romance. -We have the same uncertainty in reference to his doctrines, _i. e._ in -reference to his share in the number-theory. Aristotle, _e. g._ does not -ascribe this to Pythagoras himself, but only to the Pythagoreans -generally, _i. e._ to their school. The accounts which are given -respecting his school have no certainty till the time of Socrates, a -hundred years after Pythagoras. Among the few sources of light which we -have upon this subject, are the mention made in Plato's Phaedon of the -Pythagorean Philolaus and his doctrines, and the writings of Archytas, a -cotemporary of Plato. We possess in fact the Pythagorean doctrine only -in the manner in which it was taken up by Philolaus, Eurytas and -Archytas, since its earlier adherents left nothing in a written form. - -3. THE PYTHAGOREAN PRINCIPLE.--The ancients are united in affirming that -the principle of the Pythagorean philosophy was number. But in what -sense was this their principle--in a material or a formal sense? Did they -hold number as the material of things, _i. e._ did they believe that -things had their origin in numbers, or did they regard it as the -archetype of things, _i. e._ did they believe that things were made as -the copy or the representation of numbers? From this very point the -accounts given by the ancients diverge, and even the expressions of -Aristotle seem to contradict each other. At one time he speaks of -Pythagoreanism in the former, and at another in the latter sense. From -this circumstance modern scholars have concluded that the Pythagorean -doctrine of numbers had different forms of development; that some of the -Pythagoreans regarded numbers as the substances and others as the -archetypes of things. Aristotle, however, gives an intimation how the -two statements may be reconciled with each other. Originally, without -doubt, the Pythagoreans regarded number as the material, as the inherent -essence of things, and therefore Aristotle places them together with the -Hylics (the Ionic natural philosophers), and says of them that "they -held things for numbers" (_Metaph._ I., 5, 6). But as the Hylics did not -identify their matter, _e. g._ water, immediately with the sensuous -thing, but only gave it out as the fundamental element, as the original -form of the individual thing, so, on the other side, numbers also might -be regarded as similar fundamental types, and therefore Aristotle might -say of the Pythagoreans, that "they held numbers to be the corresponding -original forms of being, as water, air, &c." But if there still remains -a degree of uncertainty in the expressions of Aristotle respecting the -sense of the Pythagorean doctrine of numbers, it can only have its -ground in the fact that the Pythagoreans did not make any distinction -between a formal and material principle, but contented themselves with -the undeveloped view, that, "number is the essence of things, every -thing is number." - -4. THE CARRYING-OUT OF THIS PRINCIPLE.--From the very nature of the -"number-principle," it follows that its complete application to the -province of the real, can only lead to a fruitless and empty symbolism. -If we take numbers as even and odd, and still farther as finite and -infinite, and apply them as such to astronomy, music, psychology, -ethics, &c., there arise combinations like the following, viz.: one is -the point, two are the line, three are the superficies, four are the -extension of a body, five are the condition (_beschaffenheit_), -&c.--still farther, the soul is a musical harmony, as is also virtue, the -soul of the world, &c. Not only the philosophical, but even the -historical interest here ceases, since the ancients themselves--as was -unavoidable from the arbitrary nature of such combinations--have given -the most contradictory account, some affirming that the Pythagoreans -reduced righteousness to the number three, others, that they reduced it -to the number four, others again to five, and still others to nine. -Naturally, from such a vague and arbitrary philosophizing, there would -early arise, in this, more than in other schools, a great diversity of -views, one ascribing this signification to a certain mathematical form, -and another that. In this mysticism of numbers, that which alone has -truth and value, is the thought, which lies at the ground of it all, -that there prevails in the phenomena of nature a rational order, harmony -and conformity to law, and that these laws of nature can be represented -in measure and number. But this truth has the Pythagorean school hid -under extravagant fancies, as vapid as they are unbridled. - -The physics of the Pythagoreans possesses little scientific value, with -the exception of the doctrine taught by Philolaus respecting the -circular motion of the earth. Their ethics is also defective. What we -have remaining of it relates more to the Pythagorean life, _i. e._ to -the practice and discipline of their order than to their philosophy. The -whole tendency of Pythagoreanism was in a practical respect ascetic, and -directed to a strict culture of the character. As showing this, we need -only to cite their doctrines concerning the transmigration of the soul, -or, as it has been called, their "immortality doctrine," their notion in -respect of the lower world, their opposition to suicide, and their view -of the body as the prison of the soul--all of which ideas are referred to -in Plato's Phaedon, and the last two of which are indicated as belonging -to Philolaus. - - - - -SECTION VI - -THE ELEATICS. - - -1. RELATION OF THE ELEATIC PRINCIPLE TO THE PYTHAGOREAN.--While the -Pythagoreans had made matter, in so far as it is quantity and the -manifold, the basis of their philosophizing, and while in this they only -abstracted from the determined elemental condition of matter, the -Eleatics carry the process to its ultimate limit, and make, as the -principle of their philosophy, a total abstraction from every finite -determinateness, from every change and vicissitude which belongs to -concrete being. While the Pythagoreans had held fast to the form of -being as having existence in space and time, the Eleatics reject this, -and make as their fundamental thought the negation of all exterior and -posterior. Only being is, and there is no not-being, nor becoming. This -being is the purely undetermined, changeless ground of all things. It is -not being _in_ becoming, but it is being as exclusive of all becoming; -in other words, it is pure being. - -Eleaticism is, therefore, Monism, in so far as it strove to carry back -the manifoldness of all being to a single ultimate principle; but on the -other hand it becomes Dualism, in so far as it could neither carry out -its denial of concrete existence, _i. e._, the phenomenal world, nor yet -derive the latter from its presupposed original ground. The phenomenal -world, though it might be explained as only an empty appearance, did yet -exist; and, since the sensuous perception would not ignore this, there -must be allowed it, hypothetically at least, the right of existence. Its -origin must be explained, even though with reservations. This -contradiction of an unreconciled Dualism between being and existence, is -the point where the Eleatic philosophy is at war with itself--though, in -the beginning of the school--with _Xenophanes_, it does not yet appear. -The principle itself, with its results, is only fully apparent in the -lapse of time. It has three periods of formation, which successively -appear in three successive generations. Its foundation belongs to -_Xenophanes_; its systematic formation to _Parmenides_; its completion -and partial dissolution to _Zeno_ and _Melissus_--the latter of whom we -can pass by. - -2. XENOPHANES.--Xenophanes is considered as the originator of the Eleatic -tendency. He was born at Colophon; emigrated to Elea, a Phocian colony -in Lucania, and was a younger cotemporary of Pythagoras. He appears to -have first uttered the proposition--"every thing is one," without, -however, giving any more explicit determination respecting this unity, -whether it be one simply in conception or in actuality. Turning his -attention, says Aristotle, upon the world as a whole, he names the unity -which he finds, God. God is the One. The Eleatic "One and All" ([Greek: -en kai pan]) had, therefore, with Xenophanes, a theological and -religious character. The idea of the unity of God, and an opposition to -the anthropomorphism of the ordinary views of religion, is his starting -point. He declaimed against the delusion that the gods were born, that -they had a human voice or form, and railed at the robbery, adultery, and -deceit of the gods as sung by Homer and Hesiod. According to him the -Godhead is wholly seeing, wholly understanding, wholly hearing, unmoved, -undivided, calmly ruling all things by his thought, like men neither in -form nor in understanding. In this way, with his thought turned only -towards removing from the Godhead all finite determinations and -predicates, and holding fast to its unity and unchangeableness, he -declared this doctrine of its being to be the highest philosophical -principle, without however directing this principle polemically against -the doctrine of finite being, or carrying it out in its negative -application. - -3. PARMENIDES.--The proper head of the Eleatic school is Parmenides of -Elea, a scholar, or at least an adherent of Xenophanes. Though we -possess but little reliable information respecting the circumstances of -his life, yet we have, in inverse proportion, the harmonious voice of -all antiquity in an expression of reverence for the Eleatic sage, and of -admiration for the depth of his mind, as well as for the earnestness and -elevation of his character. The saying--"a life like Parmenides," became -afterwards a proverb among the Greeks. - -Parmenides embodied his philosophy in an epic poem, of which we have -still important fragments. It is divided into two parts. In the first he -discusses the conception of being. Rising far above the yet unmediated -view of Xenophanes, he attains a conception of pure single being, which -he sets up as absolutely opposed to every thing manifold and changeable, -_i. e._, to that which has no being, and which consequently cannot be -thought. From this conception of being he not only excludes all becoming -and departing, but also all relation to space and time, all divisibility -and movement. This being he explains as something which has not become -and which does not depart, as complete and of its own kind, as -unalterable and without limit, as indivisible and present though not in -time, and since all these are only negative, he ascribes to it, also, as -a positive determination--thought. Being and thought are therefore -identical with Parmenides. This pure thought, directed to the pure -being, he declares is the only true and undeceptive knowledge, in -opposition to the deceptive notions concerning the manifoldness and -mutability of the phenomenal. He has no hesitancy in holding that to be -only a name which mortals regard as truth, viz., becoming and departing, -being and not-being, change of place and vicissitude of circumstance. We -must therefore be careful not to hold "the One" of Parmenides, as the -collective unity of all concrete being. - -So much for the first part of Parmenides' poem. After the principle that -there is only being has been developed according to its negative and -positive determinations, we might believe that the system was at an end. -But there follows a second part, which is occupied solely with the -hypothetical attempt to explain the phenomenal world and give it a -physical derivation. Though firmly convinced that, according to reason -and conception, there is only "the One," yet is Parmenides unable to -withdraw himself from the recognition of an appearing manifoldness and -change. Forced, therefore, by his sensuous perception to enter upon a -discussion of the phenomenal world, he prefaces this second part of his -poem with the remark, that he had now closed what he had to say -respecting the truth, and was hereafter to deal only with the opinion of -a mortal. Unfortunately, this second part has been very imperfectly -transmitted to us. Enough however remains to show, that he explained the -phenomena of nature from the mingling of two unchangeable elements, -which Aristotle, though apparently only by way of example, indicates as -warm and cold, fire and earth. Concerning these two elements, Aristotle -remarks still farther that Parmenides united the warmth with being, and -the other element with not-being. - -It is scarcely necessary to remark that between the two parts of the -Parmenidean philosophy--between the doctrine concerning being and the -doctrine concerning appearance--there can exist no inner scientific -connection. What Parmenides absolutely denies in the first part, and -indeed declares to be unutterable, viz., the not-being, the many and the -changeable, he yet in the second part admits to have an existence at -least in the representation of men. But it is clear that the not-being -cannot once exist in the representation, if it does not exist generally -and every where, and that the attempt to explain a not-being of the -representation, is in complete contradiction with his exclusive -recognition of being. This contradiction, this unmediated juxtaposition -of being and not-being, of the one and the many, _Zeno_, a scholar of -Parmenides, sought to remove, by affirming that from the very conception -of being, the sensuous representation, and thus the world of the -not-being, are dialectically annihilated. - -4. ZENO.--The Eleatic Zeno was born about 500 B. C.; was a scholar of -Parmenides, and the earliest prose writer among the Grecian -philosophers. He is said to have written in the form of dialogues. He -perfected, dialectically, the doctrine of his master, and carried out to -the completest extent the abstraction of the Eleatic One, in opposition -to the manifoldness and determinateness of the finite. He justified the -doctrine of a single, simple, and unchangeable being, in a polemical -way, by showing up the contradictions into which the ordinary -representations of the phenomenal world become involved. While -Parmenides affirms that there is only the One, Zeno shows in his -well-known proofs (which unfortunately we cannot here more widely -unfold), that the many, the changing, that which has relation to space, -or that which has relation to time, is not. While Parmenides affirmed -the being, Zeno denied the appearance. On account of these proofs, in -which Zeno takes up the conceptions of extension, manifoldness and -movement, and shows their inner contradictory nature, Aristotle names -him the founder of dialectics. - -While the philosophizing of Zeno is the completion of the Eleatic -principle, so is it at the same time the beginning of its dissolution. -Zeno had embraced the opposition of being and existence, of the one and -the many, so abstractly, and had carried it so far, that with him the -inner contradiction of the Eleatic principle comes forth still more -boldly than with Parmenides; for the more logical he is in the denial of -the phenomenal world, so much the more striking must be the -contradiction, of turning, on the one side, his whole philosophical -activity to the refutation of the sensuous representation, while, on the -other side, he sets over against it a doctrine which destroys the very -possibility of a false representation. - - - - -SECTION VII. - -HERACLITUS. - - -1. RELATION OF THE HERACLITIC PRINCIPLE TO THE ELEATIC.--Being and -existence, the one and the many, could not be united by the principle of -the Eleatics; the Monism which they had striven for had resulted in an -ill-concealed Dualism. Heraclitus reconciled this contradiction by -affirming that being and not-being, the one and the many, existed at the -same time as the becoming. While the Eleatics could not extricate -themselves from the dilemma that the world is either being or not-being, -Heraclitus removes the difficulty by answering--it is neither being nor -not-being, because it is both. - -2. HISTORICAL AND CHRONOLOGICAL.--Heraclitus, surnamed by later writers -the mystic, was born at Ephesus, and flourished about 500 B. C. His -period was subsequent to that of Xenophanes, though partially -cotemporary with that of Parmenides. He laid down his philosophical -thoughts in a writing "Concerning Nature," of which we possess only -fragments. Its rapid transitions, its expressions so concise, and full -of meaning, the general philosophical peculiarity of Heraclitus, and the -antique character of the earliest prose writings, all combine to make -this work so difficult to be understood that it has long been a proverb. -Socrates said concerning it, that "what he understood of it was -excellent, and he had no doubt that what he did not understand was -equally good; but the book requires an expert swimmer." Later Stoics and -Academicians have written commentaries upon it. - -3. THE PRINCIPLE OF THE BECOMING.--The ancients unite in ascribing to -Heraclitus the principle that the totality of things should be conceived -in an eternal flow, in an uninterrupted movement and transformation, and -that all continuance of things is only appearance. "Into the same -stream," so runs a saying of Heraclitus, "we descend, and at the same -time we do not descend; we are, and also we are not. For into the same -stream we cannot possibly descend twice, since it is always scattering -and collecting itself again, or rather it at the same time flows to us -and from us." There is, therefore, ground for the assertion that -Heraclitus had banished all rest and continuance from the totality of -things; and it is doubtless in this very respect that he accuses the eye -and the ear of deception, because they reveal to men a continuance where -there is only an uninterrupted change. - -Heraclitus has analyzed the principle of the becoming still more -closely, in the propositions which he utters, to account for the origin -of things, where he shows that all becoming must be conceived as the -product of warring opposites, as the harmonious union of opposite -determinations. Hence his two well-known propositions: "Strife is the -father of things," and "The One setting itself at variance with itself, -harmonizes with itself, like the harmony of the bow and the viol." -"Unite," so runs another of his sayings, "the whole and the not-whole, -the coalescing and the not-coalescing, the harmonious and the -discordant, and thus we have the one becoming from the all, and the all -from the one." - -4. THE PRINCIPLE OF FIRE.--In what relation does the principle of fire, -which is also ascribed to Heraclitus, stand to the principle of the -becoming? Aristotle says that he took fire as his principle, in the same -way that Thales took water, and Anaximenes took air. But it is clear we -must not interpret this to mean that Heraclitus regarded fire as the -original material or fundamental element of things, after the manner of -the Ionics. If he ascribed reality only to the becoming, it is -impossible that he should have set by the side of this becoming, yet -another elemental matter as a fundamental substance. When, therefore, -Heraclitus calls the world an ever-living fire, which in certain stages -and certain degrees extinguishes and again enkindles itself, when he -says that every thing can be exchanged for fire, and fire for every -thing, just as we barter things for gold and gold for things, he can -only mean thereby that fire represents the abiding power of this eternal -transformation and transposition, in other words, the conception of -life, in the most obvious and effective way. We might name fire, in the -Heraclitic sense, the symbol or the manifestation of the becoming, but -that it is also with him the substratum of movement, _i. e._ the means -with which the power of movement, which is antecedent to all matter, -serves it self in order to bring out the living process of things. In -the same way Heraclitus goes on to explain the manifoldness of things, -by affirming that they arise from certain hindrances and a partial -extinction of this fire. The product of its extremest hindrance is the -earth, and the other things lie intermediately between. - -5. TRANSITION TO THE ATOMISTS.--We have above regarded the Heraclitic -principle as the consequent of the Eleatic, but we might as properly -consider the two as antitheses. While Heraclitus destroys all abiding -being in an absolutely flowing becoming, so, on the other hand, -Parmenides destroys all becoming in an absolutely abiding being; and -while the former charges the eye and the ear with deception, in that -they transform the flowing becoming into a quiescent being, the latter -also accuses these same senses of an untrue representation, in that they -draw the abiding being into the movement of the becoming. We can -therefore say that the being and the becoming are equally valid -antitheses, which demand again a synthesis and reconciliation. But now -can we say that Heraclitus actually and satisfactorily solved the -problem of Zeno? Zeno had shown every thing actual to be a -contradiction, and from this had inferred their not-being, and it is -only in this inference that Heraclitus deviates from the Eleatics. He -also regarded the phenomenal world as an existing contradiction, but he -clung to this contradiction as to an ultimate fact. That which had been -the negative result of the Eleatics, he uttered as his positive -principle. The dialectics which Zeno had subjectively used against the -phenomenal, he directed objectively as a proof for the becoming. But -this becoming which the Eleatics had thought themselves obliged to deny -entirely, Heraclitus did not explain by simply asserting that it was the -only true principle. The question continually returned--why is all being -a becoming? Why does the one go out over into the many? To give an -answer to this question, _i. e._ to explain the becoming from the -presupposed principle of being, forms the standpoint and problem of the -_Empedoclean_ and _Atomistic_ philosophy. - - - - -SECTION VIII. - -EMPEDOCLES. - - -1. GENERAL VIEW.--Empedocles was born at Agrigentum, and is extolled by -the ancients as a natural philosopher, physician and poet, and also as a -seer and worker of miracles. He flourished about 440 B. C., and was -consequently younger than Parmenides and Heraclitus. He wrote a -doctrinal poem concerning nature, which has been preserved to us in -tolerably complete fragments. His philosophical system may be -characterized in brief, as an attempt to combine the Eleatic being and -the Heraclitic becoming. Starting with the Eleatic thought, that neither -any thing which had previously been could become, nor any thing which -now is could depart, he sets up as unchangeable being, four eternal -original materials, which, though divisible, were independent, and -underived from each other. In this we have what in our day are called -the four elements. With this Eleatic thought he united also the -Heraclitic view of nature, and suffered his four elements to become -mingled together, and to receive a form by the working of two moving -powers, which he names unifying friendship and dividing strife. -Originally, these four elements were absolutely alike and unmovable, -dwelling together in a divine sphere where friendship united them, until -gradually strife pressing from the circumference to the centre of the -sphere (_i. e._ attaining a separating activity), broke this union, and -the formation of the world immediately began as the result. - -2. THE FOUR ELEMENTS.--With his doctrine of the four elements, -Empedocles, on the one side, may be joined to the series of the Ionic -philosophers, but, on the other, he is excluded from this by his -assuming the original elements to be four. He is distinctly said by the -ancients to have originated the theory of the four elements. He is more -definitely distinguished from the old Ionics, from the fact that he -ascribed to his four "root-elements" a changeless being, by virtue of -which they neither arose from each other nor departed into each other, -and were capable of no change of essence but only of a change of state. -Every thing which is called arising and departing, every change rests -therefore only upon the mingling and withdrawing of these eternal and -fundamental materials; the inexhaustible manifoldness of being rests -upon the different proportions in which these elements are mingled. -Every becoming is conceived as such only as a change of place. In this -we have a mechanical in opposition to a dynamic explanation of nature. - -3. THE TWO POWERS.--Whence now can arise any becoming, if in matter -itself there is found no principle to account for the change? Since -Empedocles did not, like the Eleatics, deny that there was change, nor -yet, like Heraclitus, introduce it in his matter, as an indwelling -principle, so there was no other course left him but to place, by the -side of his matter, a moving power. The opposition of the one and the -many which had been set up by his predecessors, and which demanded an -explanation, led him to ascribe to this moving power, two originally -diverse directions, viz.: repulsion and attraction. The separation of -the one into the many, and the union again of the many into the one, had -indicated an opposition of powers which Heraclitus had already -recognized. While now Parmenides starting from the one had made love as -his principle, and Heraclitus starting from the many had made strife as -his, Empedocles combines the two as the principle of his philosophy. The -difficulty is, he has not sufficiently limited in respect to one -another, the sphere of operation of these two directions of his power. -Although, to friendship belonged peculiarly the attractive, and to -strife the repelling function, yet does Empedocles, on the other hand, -suffer his strife to have in the formation of the world a unifying, and -his friendship a dividing effect. In fact, the complete separation of a -dividing and unifying power in the movement of the becoming, is an -unmaintainable abstraction. - -4. RELATION OF THE EMPEDOCLEAN TO THE ELEATIC AND HERACLITIC -PHILOSOPHY.--Empedocles, by placing, as the principle of the becoming, a -moving power by the side of his matter, makes his philosophy a mediation -of the Eleatic and Heraclitic principles, or more properly a placing of -them side by side. He has interwoven these two principles in equal -proportions in his system. With the Eleatics he denied all arising and -departing, _i. e._ the transition of being into not-being and of -not-being into being, and with Heraclitus he shared the interest to find -an explanation for change. From the former he derived the abiding, -unchangeable being of his fundamental matter, and from the latter the -principle of the moving power. With the Eleatics, in fine, he considered -the true being in an original and indistinguishable unity as a sphere, -and with Heraclitus, he regarded the present world as a constant product -of striving powers and oppositions. He has, therefore, been properly -called an Eclectic, who has united the fundamental thoughts of his two -predecessors, though not always in a logical way. - - - - -SECTION IX. - -THE ATOMISTIC PHILOSOPHY. - - -1. ITS PROPOUNDERS.--Empedocles had sought to effect a combination of the -Eleatic and Heraclitic principle--the same was attempted, though in a -different way, by the Atomists, Leucippus and Democritus. Democritus, -the better known of the two, was the son of rich parents, and was born -about 460 B. C. in Abdera, an Ionian colony. He travelled extensively, -and no Greek before the time of Aristotle possessed such varied -attainments. He embodied the wealth of his collected knowledge in a -series of writings, of which, however, only a few fragments have come -down to us. For rhythm and elegance of language, Cicero compared him -with Plato. He died in a good old age. - -2. THE ATOMS.--Empedocles derived all determinateness of the phenomenal -from a certain number of qualitatively determined and undistinguishable -original materials, while the Atomists derived the same from an -originally unlimited number of constituent elements, or atoms, which -were homogeneous in respect of quality, but diverse in respect of form. -These atoms are unchangeable, material particles, possessing indeed -extension, but yet indivisible, and can only be determined in respect of -magnitude. As being, and without quality, they are entirely incapable of -any transformation or qualitative change, and, therefore, all becoming -is, as with Empedocles, only a change of place. The manifoldness of the -phenomenal world is only to be explained from the different form, -disposition, and arrangement of the atoms as they become, in various -ways, united. - -3. THE FULNESS AND THE VOID.--The atoms, in order to be atoms, _i. e._ -undivided and impenetrable unities,--must be mutually limited and -separated. There must be something set over against them which preserves -them as atoms, and which is the original cause of their separateness and -impenetrability. This is the void space, or more strictly the intervals -which are found between the atoms, and which hinder their mutual -contact. The atoms, as being and absolute fulness, and the interval -between them, as the void and the not-being, are two determinations -which only represent in a real and objective way, what are in thought, -as logical conceptions, the two elements in the Heraclitic becoming, -viz. being and the not-being. But since the void space is one -determination of being, it must possess objective reality no less than -the atoms, and Democritus even went so far as to expressly affirm in -opposition to the Eleatics, that being is no more than nothing. - -4. THE ATOMISTIC NECESSITY.--Democritus, like Empedocles, though far more -extensively than he, attempted to answer the question--whence arise these -changes and movements which we behold? Wherein lies the ground that the -atoms should enter into these manifold combinations, and bring forth -such a wealth of inorganic and organic forms? Democritus attempted to -solve the problem by affirming that the ground of movement lay in the -gravity or original condition of the material particles, and, therefore, -in the matter itself, but in this way he only talked about the question -without answering it. The idea of an infinite series of causalities was -thus attained, but not a final ground of all the manifestations of the -becoming, and of change. Such a final ground was still to be sought, and -as Democritus expressly declared that it could not lie in an ultimate -reason [Greek: nous], where Anaxagoras placed it, there only -remained for him to find it in an absolute necessity, or a necessary -pre-determinateness [Greek: anagke]. This he adopted as his "final -ground," and is said to have named it chance [Greek: tuche], in -opposition to the inquiry after final causes, or the Anaxagorean -teleology. Consequent upon this, we find as the prominent characteristic -of the later Atomistic school (Diagoras the Melier), polemics against -the gods of the people, and a constantly more publicly affirmed Atheism -and Materialism. - -5. RELATIVE POSITION OF THE ATOMISTIC PHILOSOPHY.--Hegel characterizes -the relative position of the Atomistic Philosophy as follows, viz.:--"In -the Eleatic Philosophy being and not-being stand as antitheses,--being -alone is, and not-being is not; in the Heraclitic idea, being and -not-being are the same,--both together, _i. e._ the becoming, are the -predicate of concrete being; but being and not-being, as objectively -determined, or in other words, as appearing to the sensuous intuition, -are precisely the same as the antithesis of the fulness and the void. -Parmenides, Heraclitus and the Atomists all sought for the abstract -universal; Parmenides found it in _being_, Heraclitus in the _process_ -of being _per se_, and the Atomists in the _determination_ of being _per -se_." So much of this as ascribes to the Atomists the characteristic -predicate of being _per se_ is doubtless correct,--but the real thought -of the Atomistic system is rather analogous with the Empedoclean, to -explain the possibility of the becoming, by presupposing these -substances as possessing being _per se_, but without quality. To this -end the not-being or the void, _i. e._ the side which is opposed to the -Eleatic principle, is elaborated with no less care than the side which -harmonizes with it, _i. e._ that the atoms are without quality and never -change in their original elements. The Atomistic Philosophy is therefore -a mediation between the Eleatic and the Heraclitic principles. It is -Eleatic in affirming the undivided being _per se_ of the -atoms;--Heraclitic, in declaring their multeity and manifoldness. It is -Eleatic in the declaration of an absolute fulness in the atoms, and -Heraclitic in the claim of a real not-being, _i. e._ the void space. It -is Eleatic in its denial of the becoming, _i. e._ of the arising and -departing,--and Heraclitic in its affirmation that to the atoms belong -movement and a capacity for unlimited combinations. The Atomists carried -out their leading thought more logically than Empedocles, and we might -even say that their system is the perfection of a purely mechanical -explanation of nature, since all subsequent Atomists, even to our own -day, have only repeated their fundamental conceptions. But the great -defect which cleaves to every Atomistic system, Aristotle has justly -recognized, when he shows that it is a contradiction, on the one hand, -to set up something corporeal or space-filling as indivisible, and on -the other, to derive the extended from that which has no extension, and -that the consciousless and inconceivable necessity of Democritus is -especially defective, in that it totally banishes from nature all -conception of design. This is the point to which Anaxagoras turns his -attention, and introduces his principle of an intelligence working with -design. - - - - -SECTION X. - -ANAXAGORAS. - - -1. HIS PERSONAL HISTORY.--Anaxagoras is said to have been born at -Clazamena, about the year 500 B. C.; to have gone to Athens immediately, -or soon after the Persian war, to have lived and taught there for a long -time, and, finally, accused of irreverence to the gods, to have fled, -and died at Lampsacus, at the age of 72. He it was who first planted -philosophy at Athens, which from this time on became the centre of -intellectual life in Greece. Through his personal relations to Pericles, -Euripides, and other important men,--among whom Themistocles and -Thucydides should be named--he exerted a decisive influence upon the -culture of the age. It was on account of this that the charge of -defaming the gods was brought against him, doubtless by the political -opponents of Pericles. Anaxagoras wrote a work "_Concerning Nature_" -which in the time of Socrates was widely circulated. - -2. HIS RELATION TO HIS PREDECESSORS.--The system of Anaxagoras starts -from the same point with his predecessors, and is simply another attempt -at the solution of the same problem. Like Empedocles and the Atomists so -did Anaxagoras most vehemently deny the becoming. "The becoming and -departing,"--so runs one of his sayings--"the Greeks hold without -foundation, for nothing can ever be said to become or depart; but, since -existing things may be compounded together and again divided, we should -name the becoming more correctly a combination, and the departing a -separation." From this view, that every thing arose by the mingling of -different elements, and departed by the withdrawing of these elements, -Anaxagoras, like his predecessors, was obliged to separate matter from -the moving power. But though his point of starting was the same, yet was -his direction essentially different from that of any previous -philosopher. It was clear that neither Empedocles nor Democritus had -satisfactorily apprehended the moving power. The mythical energies of -love and hate of the one, or the unconscious necessity of the other, -explained nothing, and least of all, the design of the becoming in -nature. The conception of an activity which could thus work designedly, -must, therefore, be brought into the conception of the moving power, and -this Anaxagoras accomplished by setting up the idea of a world-forming -intelligence ([Greek: nous]), absolutely separated from all matter -and working with design. - -3. THE PRINCIPLE OF THE [Greek: nous].--Anaxagoras described this -intelligence as free to dispose, unmingled with any thing, the ground of -movement, but itself unmoved, every where active, and the most refined -and pure of all things. Although these predicates rest partly upon a -physical analogy, and do not exhibit purely the conception of -immateriality, yet on the other hand does the attribute of thought and -of a conscious acting with design admit no doubt to remain of the -decided idealistic character of the Anaxagorean principle. Nevertheless, -Anaxagoras went no farther than to enunciate his fundamental thought -without attempting its complete application. The explanation of this is -obvious from the reasons which first led him to adopt his principle. It -was only the need of an original cause of motion, to which also might be -attributed the capacity to work designedly, which had led him to the -idea of an immaterial principle. His [Greek: nous], therefore, is -almost nothing but a mover of matter, and in this function nearly all -its activity is expended. Hence the universal complaint of the ancients, -especially of Plato and Aristotle, respecting the mechanical character -of his doctrine. In Plato's Phaedon Socrates relates that, in the hope of -being directed beyond a simple occasioning, or mediate cause, he had -turned to the book of Anaxagoras, but had found there only a mechanical -instead of a truly teleological explanation of being. And as Plato so -also does Aristotle find fault with Anaxagoras in that, while he admits -mind as the ultimate ground of things, he yet resorts to it only as to a -_Deus ex machina_ for the explanation of phenomena, whose necessity he -could not derive from the causality in nature. Anaxagoras, therefore, -has rather postulated than proved mind as an energy above nature, and as -the truth and actuality of natural being. - -The further extension of his system, his doctrine concerning the -homoiomeria (constituent elements of things), which according to him -existed together originally in a chaotic condition until with their -separation and parting the formation of the world began--can here only be -mentioned. - -4. ANAXAGORAS AS THE CLOSE OF THE PRE-SOCRATIC REALISM.--With the -Anaxagorean principle of the [Greek: nous], _i. e._ with the -acquisition of an absolutely immaterial principle, closes the realistic -period of the old Grecian Philosophy. Anaxagoras combined together the -principles of all his predecessors. The infinite matter of the Hylics is -represented in his chaotic original mingling of things; the Eleatic pure -being appears in the idea of the [Greek: nous]; the Heraclitic -power of becoming and the Empedoclean moving energies are both seen in -the creating and arranging power of the eternal mind, while the -Democritic atoms come to view in the homoiomeria. Anaxagoras is the -closing point of an old and the beginning point of a new course of -development,--the latter through the setting up of his ideal principle, -and the former through the defective and completely physical manner in -which this principle was yet again applied. - - - - -SECTION XI. - -THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY. - - -1. RELATION OF THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY TO THE ANAXAGOREAN -PRINCIPLE.--Anaxagoras had formed the conception of mind, and in this had -recognized thought as a power above the objective world. Upon this newly -conquered field the Sophistic philosophy now began its gambols, and with -childish wantonness delighted itself in setting at work this power, and -in destroying, by means of a subjective dialectic, all objective -determinations. The Sophistic philosophy--though of far more significance -from its relation to the culture of the age than from its philosophy--had -for its starting principle the breach which Anaxagoras had commenced -between the subjective and the objective,--the Ego and the external -world. The subject, after recognizing himself as something higher than -the objective world, and especially as something above the laws of the -state, above custom and religious tradition and the popular faith, in -the next place attempted to prescribe laws for this objective world, and -instead of beholding in it the historical manifestation of reason, he -looked upon it only as an exanimated matter, upon which he might -exercise his will. - -The Sophistic philosophy should be characterized as the clearing up -reflection. It is, therefore, no philosophical system, for its doctrines -and affirmations exhibit often so popular and even trivial a character -that for their own sake they would merit no place at all in the history -of philosophy. It is also no philosophical school in the ordinary sense -of the term,--for Plato cites a vast number of persons under the common -name of "Sophists,"--but it is an intellectual and widely spread -direction of the age, which had struck its roots into the whole moral, -political, and religious character of the Athenian life of that time, -and which may be called the Athenian clearing up period. - -2. RELATION OF THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY TO THE UNIVERSAL LIFE OF THAT -AGE.--The Sophistic philosophy is, theoretically, what the whole Athenian -life during the Peloponnesian war was practically. Plato justly remarks -in his Republic that the doctrines of the Sophists only expressed the -very principles which guided the course of the great mass of men of that -time in their civil and social relations, and the hatred with which they -were pursued by the practical statesmen, clearly indicates the jealousy -with which the latter saw in them their rivals and the destroyers of -their polity. If the absoluteness of the empirical subject--i. e. the -view that the individual Ego can arbitrarily determine what is true, -right and good,--is in fact the theoretical principle of the Sophistic -philosophy, so does this in a practical direction, as an unlimited -Egoism meet us in all the spheres of the public and private life of that -age. The public life had become an arena of passion and selfishness; -those party struggles which racked Athens during the Peloponnesian war -had blunted and stifled the moral feeling; every individual accustomed -himself to set up his own private interest above that of the state and -the common weal, and to seek in his own arbitrariness and advantage the -measuring rod for all his actions. The Protagorean sentence that "the -man is the measure of all things" became practically carried out only -too faithfully, and the influence of the orator in the assemblies of the -people and the courts, the corruptibility of the great masses and their -leaders, and the weak points which showed to the adroit student of human -nature the covetousness, vanity, and factiousness of others around him, -offered only too many opportunities to bring this rule into practice. -Custom had lost its weight; the laws were regarded as only an agreement -of the majority, the civil ordinance as an arbitrary restriction, the -moral feeling as the effect of the policy of the state in education, the -faith in the gods as a human invention to intimidate the free power of -action, while piety was looked upon as a statute which some men have -enacted and which every one else is justified in using all his eloquence -to change. This degradation of a necessity, which is conformable to -nature and reason, and which is of universal validity,--to an accidental -human ordinance, is chiefly the point in which the Sophistic philosophy -came in contact with the universal consciousness of the educated class -of that period, and we cannot with certainty determine what share -science and what share the life may have had in this connection,--whether -the Sophistic philosophy found only the theoretical formula for the -practical life and tendencies of the age, or whether the moral -corruption was rather a consequence of that destructive influence which -the principles of the Sophists exerted upon the whole course of -contemporaneous thought. - -It would be, however, to mistake the spirit of history if we were only -to bewail the epoch of the Sophists instead of admitting for it a -relative justification. These phenomena were in part the necessary -product of the collective development of the age. The faith in the -popular religion fell so suddenly to the ground simply because it -possessed in itself no inner, moral support. The grossest vices and acts -of baseness could all be justified and excused from the examples of -mythology. Even Plato himself, though otherwise an advocate of a devout -faith in the traditional religion, accuses the poets of his nation with -leading the very moral feeling astray, through the unworthy -representations which they had spread abroad concerning the gods and the -hero world. It was moreover unavoidable that the advancing science -should clash with tradition. The physical philosophers had already long -lived in open hostility to the popular religion, and the more -convincingly they demonstrated by analogies and laws that many things -which had hitherto been regarded as the immediate effect of Divine -omnipotence, were only the results of natural causes, so much the more -easily would it happen that the educated classes would become perplexed -in reference to all their previous convictions. It was no wonder then -that the transformed consciousness of the time should penetrate all the -provinces of art and poesy; that in sculpture, wholly analogous to the -rhetoric art of the Sophistic philosophy, the emotive should occupy the -place of the elevated style; that Euripides, the sophist among -tragedians, should bring the whole philosophy of the time and its manner -of moral reflection upon the stage; and that, instead of like the -earlier poets, bringing forward his actors to represent an idea, he -should use them only as means to excite a momentary emotion or some -other stage effect. - -3. TENDENCIES OF THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY.--To give a definite -classification of the Sophistic philosophy, which should be derived from -the conception of the general phenomena of the age, is exceedingly -difficult, since, like the French "clearing up" of the last century, it -entered into every department of knowledge. The Sophists directed the -universal culture of the time. Protagoras was known as a teacher of -virtue, Gorgias as a rhetorician and politician, Prodicus as a -grammarian and teacher of synonyms, Hippias as a man of various -attainments, who besides astronomical and mathematical studies busied -himself with a theory of mnemonics; others took for their problem the -art of education, and others still the explanation of the old poets; the -brothers Euthydemus and Dionysidorus gave instruction in the bearing of -arms and military tactics; many among them, as Gorgias, Prodicus, and -Hippias, were intrusted with embassies: in short the Sophists, each one -according to his individual tendency, took upon themselves every variety -of calling and entered into every sphere of science; their method is the -only thing common to all. Moreover the relation of the Sophists to the -educated public, their striving after popularity, fame and money, -disclose the fact that their studies and occupations were for the most -part controlled, not by a subjective scientific interest, but by some -external motive. With that roving spirit which was an essential -peculiarity of the later Sophists, travelling from city to city, and -announcing themselves as thinkers by profession--and giving their -instructions with prominent reference to a good recompense and the favor -of the rich private classes, it was very natural that they should -discourse upon the prominent questions of universal interest and of -public culture, with occasional reference also to the favorite -occupation of this or that rich man with whom they might be brought in -contact. Hence their peculiar strength lay far more in a formal -dexterity, in an acuteness of thought and a capacity of bringing it -readily into exercise, in the art of discourse than in any positive -knowledge; their instruction in virtue was given either in positive -dogmatism or in empty bombast, and even where the Sophistic philosophy -became really polymathic, the art of speech still remained as the great -thing. So we find in Xenophon, Hippias boasting that he can speak -repeatedly upon every subject and say something new each time, while we -hear it expressly affirmed of others, that they had no need of positive -knowledge in order to discourse satisfactorily upon every thing, and to -answer every question extemporaneously; and when many Sophists make it a -great point to hold a well-arranged discourse about something of the -least possible significance (_e. g._ salt), so do we see that with them -the thing was only a means while the word was the end, and we ought not -to be surprised that in this respect the Sophistic philosophy sunk to -that empty technicality which Plato in his Phaedrus, on account of its -want of character, subjects to so rigid a criticism. - -4. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE SOPHISTIC PHILOSOPHY FROM ITS RELATION TO THE -CULTURE OF THE AGE.--The scientific and moral defect of the Sophistic -philosophy is at first view obvious; and, since certain modern writers -of history with over-officious zeal have painted its dark sides in -black, and raised an earnest accusation against its frivolity, -immorality, and greediness for pleasure, its conceitedness and -selfishness, and bare appearance of wisdom and art of dispute--it needs -here no farther elucidation. But the point in it most apt to be -overlooked is the merit of the Sophists in their effect upon the culture -of the age. To say, as is done, that they had only the negative merit of -calling out the opposition of Socrates and Plato, is to leave the -immense influence and the high fame of so many among them, as well as -the revolution which they brought about in the thinking of a whole -nation, an inexplicable phenomenon. It were inexplicable that _e. g._ -Socrates should attend the lectures of Prodicus, and direct to him other -students, if he did not acknowledge the worth of his grammatical -performances or recognize his merit for the soundness of his logic. -Moreover, it cannot be denied that Protagoras has hit upon many correct -principles of rhetoric, and has satisfactorily established certain -grammatical categories. Generally may it be said of the Sophists, that -they threw among the people a fulness in every department of knowledge; -that they strewed about them a vast number of fruitful germs of -development; that they called out investigations in the theory of -knowledge, in logic and in language; that they laid the basis for the -methodical treatment of many branches of human knowledge, and that they -partly founded and partly called forth that wonderful intellectual -activity which characterized Athens at that time. Their greatest merit -is their service in the department of language. They may even be said to -have created and formed the Attic prose. They are the first who made -style as such a separate object of attention and study, and who set -about rigid investigations respecting number and the art of rhetorical -representation. With them Athenian eloquence, which they first incited, -begins. Antiphon as well as Isocrates--the latter the founder of the most -flourishing school of Greek rhetoric--are offshoots of the Sophistic -philosophy. In all this there is ground enough to regard this whole -phenomenon as not barely a symptom of decay. - -5. INDIVIDUAL SOPHISTS.--The first, who is said to have been called, in -the received sense, Sophist, is _Protagoras_ of Abdera, who flourished -about 440 B. C. He taught, and for wages, in Sicily and in Athens, but -was driven out of the latter place as a reviler of the gods, and his -book concerning the gods was burnt by the herald in the public -market-place. It began with these words: "I can know nothing concerning -the gods, whether they exist or not; for we are prevented from gaining -such knowledge not only by the obscurity of the thing itself, but by the -shortness of the human life," In another writing he develops his -doctrine concerning knowing or not-knowing. Starting from the Heraclitic -position that every thing is in a constant flow, and applying this -preeminently to the thinking subject, he taught that the man is the -measure of all things, who determines in respect of being that it may -be, and of not-being that it may not be, _i. e._ that is true for the -perceiving subject which he, in the constant movement of things and of -himself, at every moment perceives and is sensible of--and hence he has -theoretically no other relation to the external world than the sensuous -apprehension, and practically no other than the sensuous desire. But -now, since perception and sensation are as diverse as the subjects -themselves, and are in the highest degree variable in the very same -subject, there follows the farther result that nothing has an objective -validity and determination, that contradictory affirmations in reference -to the same object must be received as alike true, and that error and -contradiction cannot be. Protagoras does not seem to have made any -efforts to give these frivolous propositions a practical and logical -application. According to the testimony of the ancients, a personal -character worthy of esteem, cannot be denied him; and even Plato, in the -dialogue which bears his name, goes no farther than to object to his -complete obscurity respecting the nature of morality, while, in his -Gorgias and Philebus, he charges the later Sophists with affirming the -principles of immorality and moral baseness. - -Next to Protagoras, the most famous Sophist was _Gorgias_. During the -Peloponnesian war (426 B. C.), he came from Leontium to Athens in order -to gain assistance for his native city against the encroachments of -Syracuse, After the successful accomplishment of his errand he still -abode for some time in Athens, but resided the latter part of his life -in Thessaly, where he died about the same time with Socrates. The -pompous ostentation of his external appearance is often ridiculed by -Plato, and the discourses through which he was wont to exhibit himself -display the same character, attempting, through poetical ornament, and -florid metaphors, and uncommon words, and a mass of hitherto unheard of -figures of speech, to dazzle and delude the mind. As a philosopher he -adhered to the Eleatics, especially to Zeno, and attempts to prove upon -the basis of their dialectic schematism, that universally nothing is, or -if there could be a being, it would not be cognizable, or if cognizable -it would not be communicable. Hence his writing bore characteristically -enough the title--"_Concerning Not-being or Nature_." The proof of the -first proposition that universally nothing is, since it can be -established neither as being nor as not-being, nor yet as at the same -time both being and not-being, rests entirely upon the position that all -existence is a space-filling existence (has place and body), and is in -fact the final consequence which overturns itself, in other words the -self-destruction of the hitherto physical method of philosophizing. - -The later Sophists with reckless daring carried their conclusions far -beyond Gorgias and Protagoras. They were for the most part free -thinkers, who pulled to the ground the religion, laws, and customs of -their birth. Among these should be named, prominently, the tyrant -Critias, Polus, Callicles, and Thrasymachus. The two latter openly -taught the right of the stronger as the law of nature, the unbridled -satisfaction of desire as the natural right of the stronger, and the -setting up of restraining laws as a crafty invention of the weaker; and -Critias, the most talented but the most abandoned of the thirty tyrants, -wrote a poem, in which he represented the faith in the gods as an -invention of crafty statesmen. Hippias of Elis, a man of great -knowledge, bore an honorable character, although he did not fall behind -the rest in bombast and boasting; but before all, was Prodicus, in -reference to whom it became a proverb to say--"as wise as Prodicus," and -concerning whom Plato himself and even Aristophanes never spoke without -veneration. Especially famous among the ancients were his parenetical -(persuasive) lectures concerning the choice of a mode of life -(Xenophon's Memorabilia, II. 1), concerning external good and its use, -concerning life and death, &c., discourses in which he manifests a -refined moral feeling, and his observation of life; although, through -the want of a higher ethical and scientific principle, he must be placed -behind Socrates, whose forerunner he has been called. The later -generations of Sophists, as they are shown in the Euthydemus of Plato, -sink to a common level of buffoonery and disgraceful strife for gain, -and comprise their whole dialectic art in certain formulae for entangling -fallacies. - -6. TRANSITION TO SOCRATES AND CHARACTERISTIC OF THE FOLLOWING -PERIOD.--That which is true in the Sophistic philosophy is the truth of -the subjectivity, of the self-consciousness, _i. e._ the demand that -every thing which I am to admit must be shown as rational before my own -consciousness--that which is false in it is its apprehension of this -subjectivity as nothing farther than finite, empirical egoistic -subjectivity, _i. e._ the demand that my accidental will and opinion -should determine what is rational; its truth is that it set up the -principle of freedom, of self-certainty; its untruth is that it -established the accidental will and notion of the individual upon the -throne. To carry out now the principle of freedom and self-consciousness -to its truth, to gain a true world of objective thought with a real and -distinct content, by the same means of reflection which the Sophists had -only used to destroy it, to establish the objective will, the rational -thinking, the absolute or ideal in the place of the empirical -subjectivity was the problem of the next advent in philosophy, the -problem which Socrates took up and solved. To make the absolute or ideal -subjectivity instead of the empirical for a principle, is to affirm that -the true measure of all things is not _my_ (_i. e._ the individual -person's) opinion, fancy and will; that what is true, right and good, -does not depend upon my caprice and arbitrary determination, or upon -that of any other empirical subject; but while it is _my_ thinking, it -is my _thinking_, the rational within me, which has to decide upon all -those points. But my thinking, my reason, is not something specially -belonging to me, but something common to every rational being; something -universal, and in so far as I am a rational and thinking being, is my -subjectivity a universal one. But every thinking individual has the -consciousness that what he holds as right, as duty, as good or evil, -does not appear as such to him alone but to every rational being, and -that consequently his thinking has the character of universality, of -universal validity, in a word--of objectivity. This then in opposition to -the Sophistic philosophy is the standpoint of Socrates, and therefore -with him the _philosophy of objective thought_ begins. What Socrates -could do in opposition to the Sophists was to show that reflection led -to the same results as faith or obedience, hitherto without reflection, -had done, and that the thinking man guided by his free consciousness and -his own conviction, would learn to form the same judgments and take the -same course to which life and custom had already and unconsciously -induced the ordinary man. The position, that while the man is the -measure of all things, it is the man as universal, as thinking, as -rational, is the fundamental thought of the Socratic philosophy, which -is, by virtue of this thought, the positive complement of the Sophistic -principle. - -With Socrates begins the second period of the Grecian philosophy. This -period contains three philosophical systems, whose authors, standing to -each other in the personal relation of teacher and pupil, represent -three successive generations,--SOCRATES, PLATO, ARISTOTLE. - - - - -SECTION XII. - -SOCRATES.[2] - - -1. HIS PERSONAL CHARACTER.--The new philosophical principle appears in -the personal character of Socrates. His philosophy is his mode of acting -as an individual; his life and doctrine cannot be separated. His -biography, therefore, forms the only complete representation of his -philosophy, and what the narrative of Xenophon presents us as the -definite doctrine of Socrates, is consequently nothing but an abstract -of his inward character, as it found expression from time to time in his -conversation. Plato yet more regarded his master as such an archetypal -personality, and a luminous exhibition of the historical Socrates is the -special object of his later and maturer dialogues, and of these again, -the Symposium is the most brilliant apotheosis of the Eros incarnated in -the person of Socrates, of the philosophical impulse transformed into -character. - -Socrates was born in the year 469 B. C, the son of Sophroniscus, a -sculptor, and Phaenarete, a midwife. In his youth he was trained by his -father to follow his own profession, and in this he is said not to have -been without skill. Three draped figures of the Graces, called the work -of Socrates, were seen by Pausanias, upon the Akropolis. Little farther -is known of his education. He may have profited by the instruction of -Prodicus and the musician, Damon, but he stood in no personal connection -with the proper philosophers, who flourished before, or cotemporaneously -with him. He became what he was by himself alone, and just for this -reason does he form an era in the old philosophy. If the ancients call -him a scholar of Anaxagoras, or of the natural philosopher, Archelaus, -the first is demonstrably false, and the second, to say the least, is -altogether improbable. He never sought other means of culture than those -afforded in his native city. With the exception of one journey to a -public festival, the military campaigns which led him as far as Potidaea, -Delion, and Amphipolis, he never left Athens. - -The period when Socrates first began to devote himself to the education -of youth, can be determined only approximately from the time of the -first representation of the Clouds of Aristophanes, which was in the -year 423. The date of the Delphic oracle, which pronounced him the -wisest of men, is not known. But in the traditions of his followers, he -is almost uniformly represented as an old, or as a gray-headed man. His -mode of instruction, wholly different from the pedantry and boastful -ostentation of the Sophists, was altogether unconstrained, -conversational, popular, starting from objects lying nearest at hand and -the most insignificant, and deriving the necessary illustrations and -proofs from the most common matters of every day life; in fact, he was -reproached by his cotemporaries for speaking ever only of drudges, -smiths, cobblers and tanners. So we find him at the market, in the -gymnasia, in the workshops, busy early and late, talking with youth, -with young men, and with old men, on the proper aim and business of -life, convincing them of their ignorance, and wakening up in them the -slumbering desires after knowledge. In every human effort, whether -directed to the interests of the commonwealth, or to the private -individual and the gains of trade, to science or to art, this master of -helps to spiritual births could find fit points of contact for the -awakening of a true self-knowledge, and a moral and religions -consciousness. However often his attempts failed, or were rejected with -bitter scorn, or requited with hatred and unthankfulness, yet, led on by -the clear conviction that a real improvement in the condition of the -state could come only from a proper education of its youth, he remained -to the last true to his chosen vocation. Purely Greek in these relations -to the rising generation, he designated himself, by preference, as the -most ardent lover; Greek too in this, that with him, notwithstanding -these free relations of friendship, his own domestic life fell quite -into the background. He nowhere shows much regard for his wife and -children; the notorious, though altogether too much exaggerated -ill-nature of Xantippe, leads us to suspect, however, that his domestic -relations were not the most happy. - -As a man, as a practical sage, Socrates is pictured in the brightest -colors by all narrators. "He was," says Xenophon, "so pious, that he did -nothing without the advice of the gods; so just, that he never injured -any one even in the least; so completely master of himself, that he -never chose the agreeable instead of the good; so discerning, that he -never failed in distinguishing the better from the worse;" in short, he -was "just the best and happiest man possible." (Xen. _Mem._ I. 1, 11. -IV. 8, 11.) Still that which lends to his person such a peculiar charm, -is the happy blending and harmonious connection of all its -characteristic traits, the perfection of a beautiful, plastic nature. In -all this universality of his genius, in this force of character, by -which he combined the most contradictory and incongruous elements into a -harmonious whole, in this lofty elevation above every human weakness,--in -a word, as a perfect model, he is most strikingly depicted in the -brilliant eulogy of Alcibiades, in the Symposium of Plato. In the -scantier representation of Xenophon, also, we find everywhere a classic -form, a man possessed of the finest social culture, full of Athenian -politeness, infinitely removed from every thing like gloomy asceticism, -a man as valiant upon the field of battle as in the festive hall, -conducting himself with the most unconstrained freedom, and yet with -entire sobriety and self-control, a perfect picture of the happiest -Athenian time, without the acerbity, the one-sidedness, and contracted -reserve of the later moralists, an ideal representation of the genuinely -human virtues. - -2. SOCRATES AND ARISTOPHANES.--Socrates seems early to have attained -universal celebrity through the peculiarities attaching to his person -and character. Nature had furnished him with a remarkable external -physiognomy. His crooked, turned-up nose, his projecting eye, his bald -pate, his corpulent body, gave his form a striking similarity to the -Silenic, a comparison which is carried out in Xenophon's "Feast," in -sprightly jest, and in Plato's Symposium, with as much ingenuity as -profoundness. To this was added his miserable dress, his going barefoot, -his posture, his often standing still, and rolling his eyes. After all -this, one will hardly be surprised that the Athenian comedy took -advantage of such a remarkable character. But there was another and -peculiar motive, which influenced Aristophanes. He was a most ardent -admirer of the good old times, an enthusiastic eulogist of the manners -and the constitution, under which the fathers had been reared. As it was -his great object to waken up anew in his people, and to stimulate a -longing after those good old times, his passionate hatred broke out -against all modern efforts in politics, art and philosophy, of that -increasing mock-wisdom, which went hand in hand with a degenerating -democracy. Hence comes his bitter railing at Cleon, the Demagogue (in -the _Knights_), at Euripides, the sentimental play-writer (in the -_Frogs_) and at Socrates, the Sophist (in the _Clouds_). The latter, as -the representative of a subtle, destructive philosophy, must have -appeared to him just as corrupt and pernicious, as the party of progress -in politics, who trampled without conscience upon every thing which had -come down from the past. It is, therefore, the fundamental thought of -the Clouds to expose Socrates to public contempt, as the representative -of the Sophistic philosophy, a mere semblance of wisdom, at once vain, -profitless, corrupting in its influence upon the youth, and undermining -all true discipline and morality. Seen in this light, and from a moral -standpoint, the motives of Aristophanes may find some excuse, but they -cannot be justified; and his representation of Socrates, into whose -character all the characteristic features of the Sophistic philosophy -are interwoven, even the most contemptible and hateful, yet so that the -most unmistakable likeness is still apparent, cannot be admitted on the -ground that Socrates did really have the greatest formal resemblance to -the Sophists. The Clouds can only be designated as a culpable -misunderstanding, and as an act of gross injustice brought about by -blinded passion; and Hegel, when he attempts to defend the conduct of -Aristophanes, forgets, that, while the comic writer may caricature, he -must do it without having recourse to public calumniation. In fact all -the political and social tendencies of Aristophanes rest on a gross -misunderstanding of historical development. The good old times, as he -fancies them, are a fiction. It lies just as little in the realm of -possibility, that a morality without reflection, and a homely -ingenuousness, such as mark a nation's childhood, should be forced upon -a time in which reflection has utterly eaten out all immediateness, and -unconscious moral simplicity, as that a grown up man should became a -child again in the natural way. Aristophanes himself attests the -impossibility of such a return, when in a fit of humor, with cynic -raillery, he gives up all divine and human authority to ridicule, and -thereby, however commendable may have been the patriotic motive -prompting him to this comic extravagance, demonstrates, that he himself -no longer stands upon the basis of the old morality, that he too is the -son of his time. - -3. THE CONDEMNATION OF SOCRATES.--To this same confounding of his efforts -with those of the Sophists, and the same tendency to restore by violent -means the old discipline and morality, Socrates, twenty-four years -later, fell a victim. After he had lived and labored at Athens for many -years in his usual manner, after the storm of the Peloponnesian war had -passed by, and this city had experienced the most varied political -fortunes, in his seventieth year he was brought to trial and accused of -neglecting the gods of the state, of introducing new deities, and also -of corrupting the youth. His accusers were Melitus, a young poet, -Anytus, a demagogue, and Lycon, an orator, men in every respect -insignificant, and acting, as it seems, without motives of personal -enmity. The trial resulted in his condemnation. After a fortunate -accident had enabled him to spend thirty days more with his scholars in -his confinement, spurning a flight from prison, he drank the poisoned -cup in the year 399 B. C. - -The first motive to his accusation, as already remarked, was his -identification with the Sophists, the actual belief that his doctrines -and activity were marked with the same character of hostility to the -interests of the state, as those of the Sophists, which had already -occasioned so much mischief. The three points in the accusation, though -evidently resting on a misunderstanding, alike indicate this; they are -precisely those by which Aristophanes had sought to characterize the -Sophist in the person of Socrates. This "corruption of the youth," this -bringing in of new customs, and a new mode of culture and education -generally, was precisely the charge which was brought against the -Sophists; moreover, in Plato's Menon, Anytus, one of the three accusers, -is introduced as the bitter enemy of the Sophists and of their manner of -instruction. So too in respect to the denial of the national gods: -before this, Protagoras, accused of denying the gods, had been obliged -to flee, and Prodicus, to drink hemlock, a victim to the same distrust. -Even five years after the death of Socrates, Xenophon, who was not -present at the trial, felt himself called upon to write his Memorabilia -in defence of his teacher, so wide-spread and deep-rooted was the -prejudice against him. - -Beside this there was also a second, probably a more decisive reason. As -the Sophistic philosophy was, in its very nature, eminently -aristocratic, and Socrates, as a supposed Sophist, consequently passed -for an aristocrat, his entire mode of life could not fail to make him -appear like a bad citizen in the eyes of the restored democracy. He had -never concerned himself in the affairs of the state, had never but once -sustained an official character, and then, as chief of the Prytanes, had -disagreed with the will of the people and the rulers. (_Plat. Apol._ Sec. -32. Xen. _Mem._ I. 1, 18.) In his seventieth year, he mounted the -orator's stand for the first time in his life, on the occasion of his -own accusation. His whole manner was somewhat cosmopolitan; he is even -said to have remarked, that he was not an Athenian, nor a Greek, but a -citizen of the world. We must also take into account, that he found -fault with the Athenian democracy upon every occasion, especially with -the democratic institution of choice by lot, that he decidedly preferred -the Spartan state to the Athenian, and that he excited the distrust of -the democrats by his confidential relations with the former leaders of -the oligarchic party. (Xen. _Mem._ I. 2, 9, sq.) Among others who were -of the oligarchic interest, and friendly to the Spartans, Critias in -particular, one of the thirty tyrants, had been his scholar; so too -Alcibiades--two men, who had been the cause of much evil to the Athenian -people. If now we accept the uniform tradition, that two of his accusers -were men of fair standing in the democratic party, and farther, that his -judges were men who had fled before the thirty tyrants, and later had -overthrown the power of the oligarchy, we find it much more easy to -understand how they, in the case before them, should have supposed they -were acting wholly in the interest of the democratic party, when they -pronounced condemnation upon the accused, especially as enough to all -appearance could be brought against him. The hurried trial presents -nothing very remarkable, in a generation which had grown up during the -Peloponnesian war, and in a people that adopted and repented of their -passionate resolves with the like haste. Yea, more, if we consider that -Socrates spurned to have recourse to the usual means and forms adopted -by those accused of capital crime, and to gain the sympathy of the -people by lamentations, or their favor by flattery, that he in proud -consciousness of his innocence defied his judges, it becomes rather a -matter of wonder, that his condemnation was carried by a majority of -only three to six votes. And even now he might have escaped the sentence -to death, had he been willing to bow to the will of the sovereign people -for the sake of a commutation of his punishment. But as he spurned to -set a value upon himself, by proposing another punishment, a fine, for -example, instead of the one moved by his accuser, because this would be -the same as to acknowledge himself guilty, his disdain could not fail to -exasperate the easily excited Athenians, and no farther explanation is -needed to show why eighty of his judges who had before voted for his -innocence, now voted for his death. Such was the most lamentable -result--a result, afterwards most deeply regretted by the Athenians -themselves--of an accusation, which at the outset was probably only -intended to humble the aristocratic philosopher, and to force him to an -acknowledgment of the power and the majesty of the people. - -Hegel's view of the fate of Socrates, that it was the result of the -collision of equally just powers--the Tragedy of Athens as he calls -it--and that guilt and innocence were shared alike on both sides, cannot -be maintained on historical grounds, since Socrates can neither be -regarded exclusively as the representative of the modern spirit, the -principle of freedom, subjectivity, the concrete personality; nor his -judges, as the representatives of the old Athenian unreflecting -morality. The first cannot be, since Socrates, if his principle was at -variance with the old Greek morality, rested nevertheless so far on the -basis of tradition, that the accusations brought against him in this -respect were false and groundless; and the last cannot be, since at that -time, after the close of the Peloponnesian war, the old morality and -piety had long been wanting to the mass of the people, and given place -to the modern culture, and the whole process against Socrates must be -regarded rather as an attempt to restore by violence, in connection with -the old constitution, the old defunct morality. The fault is not -therefore the same on both sides, and it must be held, that Socrates -fell a victim to a misunderstanding, and to an unjustifiable reaction of -public sentiment. - -4. THE "GENIUS" [Greek: daimonion] OF SOCRATES.--Those traces of the old -religious sentiment, which have been handed down to us from so many -different sources, and are certainly not to be explained from a bare -accommodation to the popular belief, on the part of the philosopher, and -which distinguish him so decidedly from the Sophists, show how little -Socrates is really to be regarded as an innovator in discipline and -morals. He commends the art of divination, believes in dreams, -sacrifices with all proper care, speaks of the gods, of their -omniscience, omnipresence, goodness, and complete sufficiency in -themselves, even with the greatest reverence, and, at the close of his -defence, makes the most solemn asseveration of his belief in their -existence. In keeping with his attaching himself in this way to the -popular religion, his new principle, though in its results hostile to -all external authority, nevertheless assumed the form of the popular -belief in "Demonic" signs and symbols. These suggestions of the "Demon" -are a knowledge, which is at the same time connected with -unconsciousness. They occupy the middle ground between the bare external -of the Greek oracle, and the purely internal of the spirit. That -Socrates had the conception of a particular subject, a personal "Demon," -or "Genius," is altogether improbable. Just as little can these -"Demonic" signs, this inward oracle, whose voice Socrates professed to -hear, be regarded after the modern acceptation, simply as the -personification of the conscience, or of the practical instinct, or of -the individual tact. The first article in the form of accusation, which -evidently refers to this very point, shows that Socrates did not speak -barely metaphorically of this voice, to which he professed to owe his -prophecies. And it was not solely in reference to those higher questions -of decided importance, that Socrates had these suggestions, but rather -and preeminently with respect to matters of mere accident and arbitrary -choice, as for example, whether, and when, his friends should set out on -a journey. It is no longer possible to explain the "Demon" or "Genius" -of Socrates on psychological grounds; there may have been something of a -magnetic character about it. It is possible that there may be some -connection between this and the many other ecstatic or cataleptic -states, which are related of Socrates in the Symposium of Plato. - -5. THE SOURCES OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF SOCRATES.--Well known is the old -controversy, whether the picture of Socrates, drawn by Xenophon or by -Plato, is the most complete and true to history, and which of the two -men is to be considered as the more reliable source for obtaining a -knowledge of his philosophy. This question is being decided more and -more in favor of Xenophon. Great pains has been taken in former as in -later times, to bring Xenophon's Memorabilia into disrepute, as a -shallow and insufficient source, because their plain, and any thing -other than speculative contents, seemed to furnish no satisfactory -ground for such a revolution in the world of mind as is attributed to -Socrates, or for the splendor which invests his name in history, or for -the character which Plato assigns him; because again the Memorabilia of -Xenophon have especially an apologetic aim, and their defence does not -relate so much to the philosopher as to the man; and finally, because -they have been supposed to have the appearance of carrying the -philosophical over into the unphilosophical style of the common -understanding. A distinction has therefore been made between an exoteric -and an esoteric Socrates, obtaining the first from Xenophon, the latter -from Plato. But the preference of Plato to Xenophon has in the first -place no historical right in its favor, since Xenophon appears as a -proper historian and claims historical credibility, while Plato on the -other hand never professes to be an historical narrator, save in a few -passages, and will by no means have all the rest which he puts in the -mouth of Socrates understood as his authentic expressions and discourse. -There is, therefore, no historical reason for preferring the -representation of Socrates which is given by Plato. In the second place, -the under-valuation of Xenophon rests, for the most part, on the false -notion, that Socrates had a proper philosophy, _i. e._ a speculative -system, and on an unhistorical mistaking of the limits by which the -philosophical character of Socrates was conditioned and restricted. -There was no proper Socratic doctrine, but a Socratic life; and, just on -this ground, are the different philosophical tendencies of his scholars -to be explained. - -6. THE UNIVERSAL CHARACTER OF THE PHILOSOPHIZING OF SOCRATES.--The -philosophizing of Socrates was limited and restricted by his opposition, -partly to the preceding, and partly to the Sophistic philosophy. - -Philosophy before the time of Socrates had been in its essential -character investigation of nature. But in Socrates, the human mind, for -the first time, turned itself in upon itself, upon its own being, and -that too in the most immediate manner, by conceiving itself as active, -moral spirit. The positive philosophizing of Socrates, is exclusively of -an ethical character, exclusively an inquiry into the nature of virtue, -so exclusively, and so onesidedly, that, as is wont to be the case upon -the appearance of a new principle, it even expressed a contempt for the -striving of the entire previous period, with its natural philosophy, and -its mathematics. Setting every thing under the standpoint of immediate -moral law, Socrates was so far from finding any object in "irrational" -nature worthy of study, that he rather, in a kind of general -teleological manner, conceived it simply in the light of external means -for the attainment of external ends; yea, he would not even go out to -walk, as he says in the Phaedrus of Plato, since one can learn nothing -from trees and districts of country. Self-knowledge, the Delphic [Greek: -gnothi sauton] appeared to him the only object worthy of a man, as the -starting-point of all philosophy. Knowledge of every other kind, he -pronounced so insignificant and worthless, that he was wont to boast of -his ignorance, and to declare that he excelled other men in wisdom only -in this, that he was conscious of his own ignorance. (Plat. _Ap. S._ 21, -23.) - -The other side of the Socratic philosophizing, is its opposition to the -philosophy of the time. His object, as is well understood, could have -been only this, to place himself upon the same position as that occupied -by the philosophy of the Sophists, and overcome it on its own ground, -and by its own principles. That Socrates shared in the general position -of the Sophists, and even had many features of external resemblance to -them--the Socratic irony, for instance--has been remarked above. Many of -his assertions, particularly these propositions, that no man knowingly -does wrong, and if a man were knowingly to lie, or to do some other -wrong act, still he would be better than he who should do the same -unconsciously, at first sight bear a purely Sophistic stamp. The great -fundamental thought of the Sophistic philosophy, that all moral acting -must be a conscious act, was also his. But whilst the Sophists made it -their object, through subjective reflection to confuse and to break up -all stable convictions, to make all rules relating to outward conduct -impossible, Socrates had recognized thinking as the activity of the -universal principle, free, objective thought as the measure of all -things, and, therefore, instead of referring moral duties, and all moral -action to the fancy and caprice of the individual, had rather referred -all to true knowledge, to the essence of spirit. It was this idea of -knowledge that led him to seek, by the process of thought, to gain a -conceivable objective ground, something real, abiding, absolute, -independent of the arbitrary volitions of the subject, and to hold fast -to unconditioned moral laws. Hegel expresses the same opinion, when he -says that Socrates put morality from ethical grounds, in the place of -the morality of custom and habit. Hegel distinguishes morality, as -conscious right conduct, resting on reflection and moral principles, -from the morality of unsophisticated, half-unconscious virtue, which -rests on the compliance with prevailing custom. The logical condition of -this ethical striving of Socrates, was the determining of conceptions, -the method of their formation. To search out the "what" of every thing -says Xenophon (_Mem._ IV. 6, 1.) was the uninterrupted care of Socrates, -and Aristotle says expressly that a twofold merit must be ascribed to -him, viz.: the forming of the method of induction and the giving of -strictly logical definitions,--the two elements which constitute the -basis of science. How these two elements stand connected with the -principle of Socrates we shall at once see. - -7. THE SOCRATIC METHOD.--We must not regard the Socratic method as we are -accustomed to speak of method in our day, _i. e._ as something which, as -such, was distinctly in his consciousness, and which he abstracted from -every concrete content, but it rather had its growth in the very mode of -his philosophizing, which was not directed to the imparting of a system -but to the education of the subject in philosophical thinking and life. -It is only a subjective technicality for his mode of instruction, the -peculiar manner of his philosophical, familiar life. - -The Socratic method has a twofold side, a negative and a positive one. -The negative side is the well known Socratic _irony_. The philosopher -takes the attitude of ignorance, and would apparently let himself be -instructed by those with whom he converses, but through the questions -which he puts, the unexpected consequences which he deduces, and the -contradictions in which he involves the opposite party, he soon leads -them to see that their supposed knowledge would only entangle and -confuse them. In the embarrassment in which they now find themselves -placed, and seeing that they do not know what they supposed, this -supposed knowledge completes its own destruction, and the subject who -had pretended to wisdom learns to distrust his previous opinions and -firmly held notions. "What we knew, has contradicted itself," is the -refrain of the most of these conversations. - -This result of the Socratic method was only to lead the subject to know -that he knew nothing, and a great part of the dialogues of Xenophon and -Plato go no farther than to represent ostensibly this negative result. -But there is yet another element in his method in which the irony loses -its negative appearance. - -The positive side of the Socratic method is the so-called obstetrics or -art of intellectual midwifery. Socrates compares himself with his mother -Phaenarete, a midwife, because his position was rather to help others -bring forth thoughts than to produce them himself, and because he took -upon himself to distinguish the birth of an empty thought from one rich -in its content. (Plato _Theaetetus_, p. 149.) Through this art of -midwifery the philosopher, by his assiduous questioning, by his -interrogatory dissection of the notions of him with whom he might be -conversing, knew how to elicit from him a thought of which he had -previously been unconscious, and how to help him to the birth of a new -thought. A chief means in this operation was the method of _induction_, -or the leading of the representation to a conception. The philosopher, -thus, starting from some individual, concrete case, and seizing hold of -the most common notions concerning it, and finding illustrations in the -most ordinary and trivial occurrences, knew how to remove by his -comparisons that which was individual, and by thus separating the -accidental and contingent from the essential, could bring up to -consciousness a universal truth and a universal determination,--in other -words, could form conceptions. In order _e. g._ to find the conception -of justice or valor, he would start from individual examples of them, -and from these deduce the universal character or conception of these -virtues. From this we see that the direction of the Socratic induction -was to gain logical _definitions_. I define a conception when I develope -what it is, its essence, its content. I define the conception of justice -when I set up the common property and logical unity of all its different -modes of manifestation. Socrates sought to go no farther than this. "To -seek for the essence of virtue," says an Aristotelian writing (_Eth._ I. -5), "Socrates regarded as the problem of philosophy, and hence, since he -regarded all virtue as a knowing, he sought to determine in respect of -justice or valor what they might really be, _i. e._ he investigated -their essence or conception." From this it is very easy to see the -connection which his method of definitions or of forming conceptions had -with his practical strivings. He went back to the conception of every -individual virtue, _e. g._ justice, only because he was convinced that -the knowledge of this conception, the knowledge of it for every -individual case, was the surest guide for every moral relation. Every -moral action, he believed, should start as a conscious action from the -conception. - -From this we might characterize the Socratic method as the skill by -which a certain sum of given, homogeneous and individual phenomena was -taken, and their logical unity, the universal principle which lay at -their base, inductively found. This method presupposes the recognition -that the essence of the objects must be comprehended in the thought, -that the conception is the true being of the thing. Hence we see that -the Platonic doctrine of ideas is only the objectifying of this method -which in Socrates appears no farther than a subjective dexterity. The -Platonic ideas are the universal conceptions of Socrates posited as real -individual beings. Hence Aristotle (_Metaph._ XIII. 4) most fittingly -characterizes the relation between the Socratic method and the Platonic -doctrine of ideas with the words, "Socrates posits the universal -conceptions not as separate, individual substances, while Plato does -this, and names them ideas." - -8. THE SOCRATIC DOCTRINE CONCERNING VIRTUE.--The single, positive -doctrinal sentence which has been transmitted us from Socrates is, that -virtue is a knowing,--that, consequently, nothing is good which happens -without discernment, and nothing bad which is done with discernment, or, -what is the same thing, that no man is voluntarily vicious, that the -base are such against their will, aye, even he who knowingly does wrong -is better than he who does it ignorantly, because in the latter case, -morality and true knowledge are both wanting, while in the former--if -such a case could happen--morality alone is violated. Socrates could not -conceive how a man should know the good and yet not do it; it was to him -a logical contradiction that the man who sought his own well being -should at the same time knowingly despise it. Therefore, with him the -good action followed as necessarily from the knowledge of the good as a -logical conclusion from its premise. - -The sentence that virtue is a knowing, has for its logical consequence -the unity of virtue and for its practical consequence the teachableness -of it. With these three propositions, in which every thing is embraced -which we can properly term the Socratic philosophy, Socrates has laid -the first foundation stone for a scientific treatment of ethics, a -treatment which must be dated first from him. But he laid only the -foundation stone, for on the one side he attempted no carrying out of -his principle into details, nor any setting up of a concrete doctrine of -ethics, but only, after the ancient manner, referred to the laws of -states and the unwritten laws of the universal human order, and on the -other side, he has not seldom served himself with utilitarian motives to -establish his ethical propositions, in other words he has referred to -the external advantages and useful consequences of virtue, by which the -purity of his ethical point of view became tarnished. - - - - -SECTION XIII. - -THE PARTIAL DISCIPLES OF SOCRATES. - - -1. THEIR RELATION TO THE SOCRATIC PHILOSOPHY.--The death of Socrates gave -to his life an ideal perfection, and this became an animating principle -which had its working in many directions. The apprehension of him as an -ideal type forms the common character of the immediate Socratic schools. -The fundamental thought, that men should have one universal and -essentially true aim, they all received from Socrates; but since their -master left no complete and systematic doctrine, but only his many-sided -life to determine the nature of this aim, every thing would depend upon -the subjective apprehension of the personal character of Socrates, and -of this we should at the outset naturally expect to find among his -different disciples a different estimate. Socrates had numerous -scholars, but no school. Among these, three views of his character have -found a place in history. That of _Antisthenes_, or the Cynical, that of -_Aristippus_, or the Cyrenian, and that of _Euclid_, or the -Megarian--three modes of apprehending him, each of which contains a true -element of the Socratic character, but all of which separate that which -in the master was a harmonious unity, and affirm of the isolated -elements that which could be truly predicated only of the whole. They -are therefore, one-sided, and give of Socrates a false picture. This, -however, was not wholly their fault; but in that Aristippus was forced -to go back to the theory of knowledge of Protagoras, and Euclid to the -metaphysics of the Eleatics, they rather testify to the subjective -character and to the want of method and system of the Socratic -philosophy, and exhibit in their defects and one-sidedness, in part, -only the original weakness which belongs to the doctrine of their -master. - -2. ANTISTHENES AND THE CYNICS.--As a strictly literal adherent of the -doctrine of Socrates, and zealously though grossly, and often with -caricature imitating his method, Antisthenes stands nearest his master. -In early life a disciple of Gorgias, and himself a teacher of the -Sophistic philosophy, he subsequently became an inseparable attendant of -Socrates, after whose death he founded a school in the Cynosarges, -whence his scholars and adherents took the name of Cynics, though -according to others this name was derived from their mode of life. The -doctrine of Antisthenes is only an abstract expression for the Socratic -ideal of virtue. Like Socrates he considered virtue the final cause of -men, regarding it also as knowledge or science, and thus as an object of -instruction; but the ideal of virtue as he had beheld it in the person -of Socrates was realized in his estimation only in the absence of every -need (in his appearance he imitated a beggar with staff and scrip) and -hence in the disregarding of all former intellectual interests; virtue -with him aims only to avoid evil, and therefore has no need of -dialectical demonstrations, but only of Socratic vigor; the wise man, -according to him, is self-sufficient, independent of every thing, -indifferent in respect of marriage, family, and the public life of -society, as also in respect of wealth, honor, and enjoyment. In this -ideal of Antisthenes, which is more negative than positive, we miss -entirely the genial humanity and the universal susceptibility of his -master, and still more a cultivation of those fruitful dialectic -elements which the Socratic philosophizing contained. With a more -decided contempt for all knowledge, and a still greater scorn of all the -customs of society, the later Cynicism became frequently a repulsive and -shameful caricature of the Socratic spirit. This was especially the case -with Diogenes of Sinope, the only one of his disciples whom Antisthenes -suffered to remain with him. In their high estimation of virtue and -philosophy these Cynics, who have been suitably styled the Capuchins of -the Grecian world, preserved a trace of the original Socratic -philosophy, but they sought virtue "in the shortest way," in a life -according to nature as they themselves expressed it, that is, in -shutting out the outer world, in attaining a complete independence, and -absence of every need, and in renouncing art and science as well as -every determinate aim. To the wise man said they nothing should go -amiss; he should be mighty over every need and desire, free from the -restraints of civil law and of custom, and of equal privileges with the -gods. An easy life, said Diogenes, is assigned by the gods to that man -who limits himself to his necessities, and this true philosophy may be -attained by every one, through perseverance and the power of -self-denial. Philosophy and philosophical interest is there none in this -school of beggars. All that is related of Diogenes are anecdotes and -sarcasms. - -We see here how the ethics of the Cynic school lost itself in entirely -negative statements, a consequence naturally resulting from the fact -that the original Socratic conception of virtue lacked a concrete -positive content, and was not systematically carried out. Cynicism is -the negative side of the Socratic doctrine. - -3. ARISTIPPUS AND THE CYRENIANS.--Aristippus of Cyrene, numbered till the -death of Socrates among his adherents, is represented by Aristotle as a -Sophist, and this with propriety, since he received money for his -instructions. He appears in Xenophon as a man devoted to pleasure. The -adroitness with which he adapted himself to every circumstance, and the -knowledge of human nature by which in every condition he knew how to -provide means to satisfy his desire for good living and luxury, were -well known among the ancients. Brought in contact with the government, -he kept himself aloof from its cares lest he should become dependent; he -spent most of his time abroad in order to free himself from every -restraint; he made it his rule that circumstances should be dependent -upon him, while he should be independent of them. Though such a man -seems little worthy of the name of a Socraticist, yet has he two points -of contact with his master which should not be overlooked. Socrates had -called virtue _and_ happiness coordinately the highest end of man, _i. -e._ he had indeed asserted most decidedly the idea of a moral action, -but because he brought this forward only in an undeveloped and abstract -form, he was only able in concrete cases to establish the obligation of -the moral law in a utilitarian way, by appealing to the benefit -resulting from the practice of virtue. This side of the Socratic -principle Aristippus adopted for his own, affirming that pleasure is the -ultimate end of life, and the highest good. Moreover, this pleasure, as -Aristippus regards it, is not happiness as a condition embracing the -whole life, nor pleasure reduced to a system, but is only the individual -sensation of pleasure which the body receives, and in this all -determinations of moral worth entirely disappear; but in that Aristippus -recommends knowledge, self-government, temperance, and intellectual -culture as means for acquiring and preserving enjoyment, and, therefore, -makes a cultivated mind necessary to judge respecting a true -satisfaction, he shows that the Socratic spirit was not yet wholly -extinguished within him, and that the name of pseudo-Socraticist which -Schleiermacher gives him, hardly belongs to him. - -The other leaders of the Cyrenian school, _Hegesias_, _Theodorus_, -_Anniceris_, we can here only name. The farther development of this -school is wholly occupied in more closely defining the nature of -pleasure, _i. e._ in determining whether it is to be apprehended as a -momentary sensation, or as an enduring condition embracing the whole -life; whether it belonged to the mind or the body, whether an isolated -individual could possess it, or whether it is found alone in the social -relations of life; whether we should regard it as positive or negative, -(_i. e._ simply the absence of pain). - -4. EUCLID AND THE MEGARIANS.--The union of the dialectical and the -ethical is a common character in all the partial Socratic schools; the -difference consists only in this, that in the one the ethical is made to -do service to the dialectical, and that in the other, the dialectical -stands in subjection to the ethical. The former is especially true of -the Megarian school, whose essential peculiarity was pointed out by the -ancients themselves as a combination of the Socratic and Eleatic -principles. The idea of the good is on the ethical side the same as the -idea of being on the physical; it was, therefore, only an application to -ethics of the Eleatic view and method when Euclid called the good pure -being, and the not-good, not-being. What is farther related of Euclid is -obscure, and may here be omitted. The Megarian school was kept up under -different leaders after his death, but without living force, and without -the independent activity of an organic development. As hedonism (the -philosophical doctrine of the Cyreneans that pleasure is the chief good) -led the way to the doctrine of Epicurus, and cynicism was the bridge -toward the Stoic, so the later Megaric development formed the transition -point to scepticism. Directing its attention ever more exclusively -towards the culture of the formal and logical method of argument, it -left entirely out of view the moral thoughts of Socrates. Its -sophistries and quiddities which were, for the most part, only plays of -word and wit, were widely known and noted among the ancients. - -5. PLATO, AS THE COMPLETE SOCRATICIST.--The attempts thus far to build -upon the foundation pillars of the Socratic doctrine, started without a -vigorous germinating principle, and ended fruitlessly. Plato was the -only one of his scholars who has approached and represented _the whole_ -Socrates. Starting from the Socratic idea of knowledge he brought into -one focus the scattered elements and rays of truth which could be -collected from his master or from the philosophers preceding him, and -gave to philosophy a systematic completeness. Socrates had affirmed the -principle that conception is the true being and the only actual, and had -urged to a knowledge according to the conception; but these positions -were no farther developed. His philosophy is not yet a system, but is -only the first impulse toward a philosophical development and method. -Plato is the first who has approached a systematic representation and -development of the ideal world of conceptions true in themselves. - -The Platonic system is Socrates objectified, the blending and -reconciling of preceding philosophy. - - - - -SECTION XIV. - -PLATO. - - -I. PLATO'S LIFE. 1. His YOUTH.--Plato, the son of Aristo, of a noble -Athenian family, was born in the year 429 B. C. It was the year of the -death of Pericles, the second year of the Peloponnesian war, so fatal to -Athens. Born in the centre of Grecian culture and industry, and -descended from an old and noble family, he received a corresponding -education, although no farther tidings of this have been transmitted to -us, than the insignificant names of his teachers. That the youth growing -up under such circumstances should choose the seclusion of a philosophic -life rather than a political career may seem strange, since many and -favorable opportunities for the latter course lay open before him. -Critias, one of the thirty tyrants, was the cousin of his mother, and -Charmides, who subsequently, under the oligarchic rule at Athens, found -his death at Thrasybulus on the same day with Critias, was his uncle. -Notwithstanding this, he is never known to have appeared a single time -as a public speaker in the assembly of the people. In view of the rising -degeneracy and increasing political corruption of his native land, he -was too proud to court for himself the favor of the many-headed _Demos_; -and more attached to Doricism than to the democracy and practice of the -Attic public life, he chose to make science his chief pursuit, rather -than as a patriot to struggle in vain against unavoidable disaster, and -become a martyr to his political opinions. He regarded the Athenian -state as lost, and to hinder its inevitable ruin he would not bring a -useless offering. - -2. HIS YEARS OF DISCIPLINE.--A youth of twenty, Plato came to Socrates, -in whose intercourse he spent eight years. Besides a few doubtful -anecdotes, nothing is known more particularly of this portion of his -history. In Xenophon's Memorabilia (III. 6) Plato is only once cursorily -mentioned, but this in a way that indicates an intimate relation between -the scholar and his master. Plato himself in his dialogues has -transmitted nothing concerning his personal relations to Socrates; only -once (_Phaed._ p. 59) he names himself among the intimate friends of -Socrates. But the influence which Socrates exerted upon him, how he -recognized in him the complete representation of a wise man, how he -found not only in his doctrine but also in his life and action the most -fruitful philosophic germs, the significance which the personal -character of his master as an ideal type had for him--all this we learn -with sufficient accuracy from his writings, where he places his own -incomparably more developed philosophical system in the mouth of his -master, whom he makes the centre of his dialogues and the leader of his -discourses. - -3. HIS YEARS OF TRAVEL.--After the death of Socrates 399 B. C, in the -thirtieth year of his age, Plato, fearing lest he also should be met by -the incoming reaction against philosophy, left, in company with other -Socraticists, his native city, and betook himself to Euclid, his former -fellow-scholar, the founder of the Megaric school (_cf._ Sec. XIII. 4) at -Megara. Up to this time a pure Socraticist, he became greatly animated -and energized by his intercourse with the Megarians, among whom a -peculiar philosophical direction, a modification of Socraticism, was -already asserted. We shall see farther on the influence of this -residence at Megara upon the foundation of his philosophy, and -especially upon the elaboration and confirmation of his doctrine of -Ideas. One whole period of his literary activity and an entire group of -his dialogues, can only be satisfactorily explained by the intellectual -stimulus gained at this place. From Megara, Plato visited Cyrene, Egypt, -Magna-Grecia and Sicily. In Magna-Grecia he became acquainted with the -Pythagorean philosophy, which was then in its highest bloom. His abode -among the Pythagoreans had a marked effect upon him; as a man it made -him more practical, and increased his zest for life and his interest in -public life and social intercourse; as a philosopher it furnished him -with a new incitement to science, and new motives to literary labor. The -traces of the Pythagorean philosophy may be seen through all the last -period of his literary life; especially his aversion to public and -political life was greatly softened by his intercourse with the -Pythagoreans. While in the Theataetus, he affirmed most positively the -incompatibility of philosophy with public life, we find in his later -dialogues, especially in the Republic and also in the Statesman--upon -which Pythagoreanism seems already to have had an influence--a returning -favor for the actual world, and the well-known sentence that the ruler -must be a philosopher is an expression very characteristic of this -change. His visit to Sicily gave him the acquaintance of the elder -Dionysius and Dion his brother-in-law, but the philosopher and the -tyrant had little in common. Plato is said to have incurred his -displeasure to so high a degree, that his life was in danger. After -about ten years spent in travel, he returned to Athens in the fortieth -year of his age, (389 or 388 B. C.) - -4. PLATO AS HEAD OF THE ACADEMY; HIS YEARS OF INSTRUCTION.--On his -return, Plato surrounded himself with a circle of pupils. The place -where he taught was known as the academy, a gymnasium outside of Athens -where Plato had inherited a garden from his father. Of his school and of -his later life, we have only the most meagre accounts. His life passed -evenly along, interrupted only by a second and third visit to Sicily, -where meanwhile the younger Dionysius had come to the throne. This -second and third residence of Plato at the court of Syracuse abounds in -vicissitudes, and shows us the philosopher in a great variety of -conditions (_cf._ Plutarch's _Life of Dion_); but to us, in estimating -his philosophical character, it is of interest only for the attempt, -which, as seems probable from all accounts, he there made to realize his -ideal of a moral state, and by the philosophical education of the new -ruler to unite philosophy and the reins of government in one and the -same hand, or at least in some way by means of philosophy to achieve a -healthy change in the Sicilian state constitution. His efforts were -however fruitless; the circumstances were not propitious, and the -character of the young Dionysius, who was one of those mediocre natures -who strive after renown and distinction, but are capable of nothing -profound and earnest, deceived the expectations concerning him which -Plato, according to Dion's account, thought he had reason to entertain. - -When we look at Plato's philosophical labors in the academy, we are -struck with the different relations to public life which philosophy -already assumes. Instead of carrying philosophy, like Socrates, into the -streets and public places and making it there a subject of social -conversation with any one who desired it, he lived and labored entirely -withdrawn from the movements of the public, satisfied to influence the -pupils who surrounded him. In precisely the measure in which philosophy -becomes a system and the systematic form is seen to be essential, does -it lose its popular character and begin to demand a scientific training, -and to become a topic for the school, an esoteric affair. Yet such was -the respect for the name of a philosopher, and especially for the name -of Plato, that requests were made to him by different states to compose -for them a book of laws, a work which in some instances it was said was -actually performed. Attended by a retinue of devoted disciples, among -whom were even women disguised as men, and receiving reiterated -demonstrations of respect, he reached the age of eighty-one years, with -his powers of mind unweakened to the latest moment. - -The close of his life seems to have been clouded by disturbances and -divisions which arose in his school under the lead of Aristotle. Engaged -in writing, or as others state it at a marriage feast, death came upon -him as a gentle sleep, 348 B. C. His remains were buried in the -Ceramicus, not far from the academy. - -II. THE INNER DEVELOPMENT OF THE PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY AND WRITINGS.--That -the Platonic philosophy has a real development, that it should not be -apprehended as a perfectly finished system to which the different -writings stand related as constituent elements, but that these are -rather steps of this inner development, as it were stages passed over in -the philosophical journeyings of the philosopher--is a view of the -highest importance for the true estimate of Plato's literary labors. - -Plato's philosophical and literary labors may be divided into three -periods, which we can characterize in different ways. Looking at them in -a chronological or biographical respect, we might call them respectively -the periods of his years of discipline, of travel, of instruction, or if -we view them in reference to the prevailing external influence under -which they were formed, they might be termed the Socratic, -Heraclitic-Eleatic, and the Pythagorean; or if we looked at the content -alone, we might term them the Anti-Sophistic-Ethic, the Dialectic or -mediating, and the systematic or constructive periods. - -THE FIRST PERIOD--the Socratic--is marked externally by the predominance -of the dramatic element, and in reference to its philosophical -standpoint, by an adherence to the method and the fundamental principles -of the Socratic doctrine. Not yet accurately informed of the results of -former inquiries, and rather repelled from the study of the history of -philosophy than attracted to it by the character of the Socratic -philosophizing, Plato confined himself to an analytical treatment of -conceptions, particularly of the conception of virtue, and to a -reproducing of his master, which, though something more than a mere -recital of verbal recollections, had yet no philosophical independence. -His Socrates exhibits the same view of life and the same scientific -standpoint which the historical Socrates of Xenophon had had. His -efforts were thus, like those of his contemporary fellow disciples, -directed prominently toward practical wisdom. His conflicts however, -like those of Socrates, had far more weight against the prevailing want -of science and the shallow sophisms of the day than for the opposite -scientific directions. The whole period bears an eclectic and hortatory -character. The highest point in which the dialogues of this group -culminate is the attempt which at the same time is found in the Socratic -doctrine to determine the certainty of an absolute content (of an -objective reality) to the good. - -The history of the development of the Platonic philosophy would assume a -very different form if the view of some modern scholars respecting the -date of the Phaedrus were correct. If, as they claim, the Phaedrus were -Plato's earliest work, this circumstance would betray from the outset an -entirely different course of culture for him than we could suppose in a -mere scholar of Socrates. The doctrine in this dialogue of the -pre-existence of souls, and their periodical transmigrations, of the -relation of earthly beauty with heavenly truth, of divine inspiration in -contrast to human wisdom, the conception of love,--these and other -Pythagorean ingredients are all so distinct from the original Socratic -doctrine that we must transfer the most of that which Plato has -creatively produced during his whole philosophical career, to the -beginning of his philosophical development. The improbability of this, -and numerous other grounds of objection, claim a far later composition -for this dialogue. Setting aside for the present the Phaedrus, the -Platonic development assumes the following form: - -Among the earliest works (if they are genuine) are the small dialogues -which treat of Socratic questions and themes in a Socratic way. Of these -_e. g._ the Charmides discusses temperance, the Lysis friendship, the -Laches valor, the lesser Hippias knowing and wilful wrong-doing, the -first Alcibiades, the moral and intellectual qualifications of a -statesman, &c. The immaturity and the crudeness of these dialogues, the -use of scenic means which have only an external relation to the content, -the scantiness and want of independence in the content, the indirect -manner of investigation which lacks a satisfactory and positive result, -the formal and analytical treatment of the conceptions discussed--all -these features indicate the early character of these minor dialogues. - -The Protagoras may be taken as a proper type of the Socratic period. -Since this dialogue, though directing its whole polemic against the -Sophistic philosophy, confined itself almost exclusively to the outward -manifestation of this system, to its influence on its age and its method -of instruction in opposition to that of Socrates, without entering into -the ground and philosophical character of the doctrine itself, and, -still farther, since, when it comes in a strict sense to philosophize, -it confines itself, in an indirect investigation, to the Socratic -conception of virtue according to its different sides (virtue as -knowing, its unity and its teachableness, _cf._ Sec. XII. 8,)--it represents -in the clearest manner the tendency, character and want of the first -period of Plato's literary life. - -The Gorgias, written soon after the death of Socrates, represents the -third and highest stage of this period. Directed against the Sophistical -identification of pleasure and virtue, of the good and of the agreeable, -_i. e._ against the affirmation of an absolute moral relativity, this -dialogue maintains the proof that the good, far from owing its origin -only to the right of the stronger, and thus to the arbitrariness of the -subject, has in itself an independent reality and objective validity, -and, consequently, alone is truly useful, and thus, therefore, the -measure of pleasure must follow the higher measure of the good. In this -direct and positive polemic against the Sophistic doctrine of pleasure, -in its tendency to a view of the good as something firm and abiding, and -secure against all subjective arbitrariness, consists prominently the -advance which the Gorgias makes over the Protagoras. - -In the first Socratic period the Platonic philosophizing became ripe and -ready for the reception of Eleatic and Pythagorean categories. To -grapple by means of these categories with the higher questions of -philosophy, and so to free the Socratic philosophy from its so close -connection with practical life, was the task of the second period. - -THE SECOND PERIOD--the dialectic or the Megaric--is marked externally, by -a less prominence of form and poetic contemplation, and not unfrequently -indeed, by obscurity and difficulties of style, and internally, by the -attempt to give a satisfactory mediation for the Eleatic doctrine and a -dialectic foundation for the doctrine of ideas. - -By his exile at Megara, and his journeys to Italy, Plato became -acquainted with other and opposing philosophical directions, from which -he must now separate himself in order to elevate the Socratic doctrine -to its true significance. It was now that he first learned to know the -philosophic theories of the earlier sages, for whose study the necessary -means could not at that period, so wanting in literary publicity, be -found at Athens. By his separation from these varying standpoints, as -his older fellow pupils had already striven to do, he attempted striding -over the narrow limits of ethical philosophizing, to reach the final -ground of knowing, and to carry out the art of forming conceptions as -brought forward by Socrates, to a science of conceptions, _i. e._ to the -doctrine of ideas. That all human acting depends upon knowing, and that -all thinking depends upon the conception, were results to which Plato -might already have attained through the scientific generalization of the -Socratic doctrine itself, but now to bring this Socratic wisdom within -the circle of speculative thinking, to establish dialectically that the -conception in its simple unity is that which abides in the change of -phenomena, to disclose the fundamental principles of knowledge which had -been evaded by Socrates, to grasp the scientific theories of the -opposers direct in their scientific grounds, and follow them out in all -their ramifications,--this is the problem which the Megaric family of -dialogues attempts to solve. - -The Theataetus stands at the head of this group. This is chiefly directed -against the Protagorean theory of knowledge, against the identification -of the thinking and the sensible perception, or against the claim of an -objective relativity of all knowledge. As the Gorgias before it had -sought to establish the independent being of the ethical, so does the -Theataetus ascending from the ethical to the theoretical, endeavor to -prove an independent being and objective reality for the logical -conceptions which lie at the ground of all representation and thinking, -in a word, to prove the objectivity of truth, the fact that there lies a -province of thought immanent in the thinking and independent of the -perceptions of the senses. These conceptions, whose objective reality is -thus affirmed, are those of a species, likeness and unlikeness, sameness -and difference, &c. - -The Theataetus is followed by the trilogy of the Sophist, the Statesman, -and the Philosopher, which completes the Megaric group of dialogues. The -first of these dialogues examines the conception of appearance, that is -of the not-being, the last (for which the Parmenides may be taken) the -conception of being. Both dialogues are especially directed to the -Eleatic doctrine. After Plato had recognized the conception in its -simple unity as that which abides in the change of phenomena, his -attention was naturally turned towards the Eleatics, who in an opposite -way had attained the similar result that in unity consists all true -substantiality, and to multiplicity as such no true being belongs. In -order more easily on the one side to carry out this fundamental thought -of the Eleatic to its legitimate result, in which the Megarians had -already preceded him, he was obliged to give a metaphysical substance to -his abstract conceptions of species, _i. e._ ideas. But on the other -side, he could not agree with the inflexibility and exclusiveness of the -Eleatic unity, unless he would wholly sacrifice the multiplicity of -things; he was rather obliged to attempt to show by a dialectic -development of the Eleatic principle that the one must be at the same -time a totality, organically connected, and embracing multiplicity in -itself. This double relation to the Eleatic principle is carried out by -the Sophist and the Parmenides; by the former polemically against the -Eleatic doctrine, in that it proves the being of the appearance or the -not-being, and by the latter pacifically, in that it analyzes the -Eleatic one by its own logical consequences into many. The inner -progress of the doctrine of Ideas in the Megaric group of dialogues is -therefore this, viz., that the Theataetus, in opposition to the -Heraclitico-Protagorean theory of the absolute becoming, affirms the -objective and independent reality of ideas, and the Sophist shows their -reciprocal relation and combining qualities, while the Parmenides in -fine exhibits their whole dialectic completeness with their relation to -the phenomenal world. - -THE THIRD PERIOD begins with the return of the philosopher to his native -city. It unites the completeness of form belonging to the first with the -profounder characteristical content belonging to the second. The -memories of his youthful years seem at this time to have risen anew -before the soul of Plato, and to have imparted again to his literary -activity the long lost freshness and fulness of that period, while at -the same time his abode in foreign lands, and especially his -acquaintance with the Pythagorean philosophy, had greatly enriched his -mind with a store of images and ideals. This reviving of old memories is -seen in the fact that the writings of this group return with fondness to -the personality of Socrates, and represent in a certain degree the whole -philosophy of Plato as the exaltation of the doctrine and the ideal -embodiment of the historical character of his early master. In -opposition to both of the first two periods, the third is marked -externally by an excess of the mythical form connected with the growing -influence of Pythagoreanism in this period, and internally by the -application of the doctrine of ideas to the concrete spheres of -psychology, ethics and natural science. That ideas possess objective -reality, and are the foundation of all essentiality and truth, while the -phenomena of the sensible world are only copies of these, was a theory -whose vindication was no longer attempted, but which was presupposed as -already proved, and as forming a dialectical basis for the pursuit of -the different branches of science. With this was connected a tendency to -unite the hitherto separate branches of science into a systematic whole, -as well as to mould together the previous philosophical directions, and -show the inner application of the Socratic philosophy for ethics, of the -Eleatic for dialectics, and the Pythagorean for physics. - -Upon this standpoint, the Phaedrus, Plato's inaugural to his labors in -the Academy, together with the Symposium, which is closely connected -with it, attempts to subject the rhetorical theory and practice of their -time to a thorough criticism, in order to show in opposition to this -theory and practice, that the fixedness and stability of a true -scientific principle could only be attained by grounding every thing on -the idea. On the same standpoint the Phaedon attempts to prove the -immortality of the soul from the doctrine of ideas; the Philebus to -bring out the conception of pleasure and of the highest good; the -Republic to develop the essence of the state, and the Timaeus that of -nature. - -Having thus sketched the inner development of the Platonic philosophy, -we now turn to a systematic statement of its principles. - -III.--CLASSIFICATION OF THE PLATONIC SYSTEM.--The philosophy of Plato, as -left by himself, is without a systematic statement, and has no -comprehensive principle of classification. He has given us only the -history of his thinking, the statement of his philosophical development; -we are therefore limited in reference to his classification of -philosophy to simple intimations. Accordingly, some have divided the -Platonic system into theoretical and practical science, and others into -a philosophy of the good, the beautiful and the true. Another -classification, which has some support in old records, is more correct. -Some of the ancients say that Plato was the first to unite in one whole -the scattered philosophical elements of the earlier sages, and so to -obtain for philosophy the three parts, logic, physics, and ethics. The -more accurate statement is given by _Sextus Empiricus_, that Plato has -laid the foundation for this threefold division of philosophy, but that -it was first expressly recognized and affirmed by his scholars, -Xenocrates and Aristotle. The Platonic system may, however, without -difficulty, be divided into these three parts. True, there are many -dialogues which mingle together in different proportions the logical, -the ethical, and the physical element, and though even where Plato -treats of some special discipline, the three are suffered constantly to -interpenetrate each other, still there are some dialogues in which this -fundamental scheme can be clearly recognized. It cannot be mistaken that -the Timaeus has predominantly a physical, and the Republic as decidedly -an ethical element, and if the dialectic is expressly represented in no -separate dialogue, yet does the whole Megaric group pursue the common -end of bringing out the conception of science and its true object, -being, and is, therefore, in its content decidedly dialectical. Plato -must have been led to this threefold division by even the earlier -development of philosophy, and though Xenocrates does not clearly see -it, yet since Aristotle presupposes it as universally admitted, we need -not scruple to make it the basis on which to represent the Platonic -system. - -The order which these different parts should take, Plato himself has not -declared. Manifestly, however, dialectics should have the first place as -the ground of all philosophy, since Plato uniformly directs that every -philosophical investigation should begin with accurately determining the -_idea_ (_Phaed._ p. 99. Phaedr. p. 237), while he subsequently examines -all the concrete spheres of science on the standpoint of the doctrine of -ideas. The relative position of the other two parts is not so clear. -Since, however, the physics culminates in the ethics, and the ethics, on -the other hand, has for its basis physical investigations into the -ensouling power in nature, we may assign to physics the former place of -the two. - -The mathematical sciences Plato has expressly excluded from philosophy. -He considers them as helps to philosophical thinking (_Rep._ VII. 526), -as necessary steps of knowledge, without which no one can come to -philosophy (_Ib._ VI. 510); but mathematics with him is not philosophy, -for it assumes its principles or axioms, without at all accounting for -them, as though they were manifest to all, a procedure which is not -permitted to pure science; it also serves itself for its demonstrations, -with illustrative figures, although it does not treat of these, but of -that which they represent to the understanding (_Ib._). Plato thus -places mathematics midway between a correct opinion and science, clearer -than the one, but more obscure than the other. (_Ib._ VII. 533.) - -IV. THE PLATONIC DIALECTICS. 1. CONCEPTION OF DIALECTICS.--The conception -of dialectics or of logic, is used by the ancients for the most part in -a very wide sense, while Plato employs it in repeated instances -interchangeably with philosophy, though on the other hand he treats it -also as a separate branch of philosophy. He divides it from physics as -the science of the eternal and unchangeable from the science of the -changeable, which never is, but is only ever becoming; he distinguishes -also between it and ethics, so far as the latter treats of the good not -absolutely, but in its concrete exhibition in morals and in the state; -so that dialectics may be termed philosophy in a higher sense, while -physics and ethics follow it as two less exact sciences, or as a not yet -perfected philosophy. Plato himself defines dialectics, according to the -ordinary signification of the word, as the art of developing knowledge -by way of dialogue in questions and answers. (_Rep._ VII. 534). But -since the art of communicating correctly in dialogue is according to -Plato, at the same time the art of thinking correctly, and as thus -thinking and speaking could not be separated by the ancients, but every -process of thought was a living dialogue, so Plato would more accurately -define dialectics as the science which brings speech to a correct issue, -and which combines or separates the species, _i. e._ the conceptions of -things correctly with one another. (_Soph._ p. 253. _Phaedr._ p. 266). -Dialectics with him has two divisions, to know what can and what cannot -be connected, and to know how division or combination can be. But as -with Plato these conceptions of species or ideas are the only actual and -true existence, so have we, in entire conformity with this, a third -definition of dialectics (_Philebus_ p. 57), as the science of being, -the science of that which is true and unchangeable, the science of all -other sciences. We may therefore briefly characterize it as the science -of absolute being or of ideas. - -2. WHAT IS SCIENCE? (1.) _As opposed to sensation and the sensuous -representation._--The Theataetus is devoted to the discussion of this -question in opposition to the Protagorean sensualism. That all knowledge -consists in perception, and that the two are one and the same thing, was -the Protagorean proposition. From this it followed, as Protagoras -himself had inferred, that things are, as they appear to me, that the -perception or sensation is infallible. But since perception and -sensation are infinitely diversified with different individuals, and -even greatly vary in the same individual, it follows farther, that there -are no objective determinations and predicates, that we can never affirm -what a thing is in itself, that all conceptions, great, small, light, -heavy, to increase, to diminish, &c., have only a relative significance, -and consequently, also, the conceptions of species, as combinations of -the changeful many, are wholly wanting in constancy and stability. In -opposition to this Protagorean thesis, Plato urges the following -objections and contradictions. _First._ The Protagorean doctrine leads -to the most startling consequences. If being and appearance, knowledge -and perception are one and the same thing, then is the irrational brute, -which is capable of perception, as fully entitled to be called the -measure of all things, as man, and if the representation is infallible, -as the expression of my subjective character at a given time, then need -there be no more instruction, no more scientific conclusion, no more -strife, and no more refutation. _Second._ The Protagorean doctrine is a -logical contradiction; for according to it Protagoras must yield the -question to every one who disputes with him, since, as he himself -affirms, no one is incorrect, but every one judges only according to -truth; the pretended truth of Protagoras is therefore true for no man, -not even for himself. _Third._ Protagoras destroys the knowledge of -future events. That which I may regard as profitable may not therefore -certainly prove itself as such in the result. To determine that which is -really profitable implies a calculation of the future, but since the -ability of men to form such a calculation is very diverse, it follows -from this that not man as such, but only the wise man can be the measure -of things. _Fourth._ The theory of Protagoras destroys perception. -Perception, according to him, rests upon a distinction of the perceived -object and the perceiving subject, and is the common product of the two. -But in his view the objects are in such an uninterrupted flow, that they -can neither become fixed in seeing nor in hearing. This condition of -constant change renders all knowledge from sense, and hence (the -identity of the two being assumed), all knowledge impossible. _Fifth._ -Protagoras overlooks the apriori element in knowledge. It is seen in an -analysis of the sense-perception itself, that all knowledge cannot be -traced to the activity of the senses, but that there must also be -presupposed besides these, intellectual functions, and hence an -independent province of supersensible knowledge. We see with the eyes, -and hear with the ears, but to group together the perceptions attained -through these different organs, and to hold them fast in the unity of -self-consciousness, is beyond the power of the activity of the senses. -Again, we compare the different sense-perceptions with one another, a -function which cannot belong to the senses, since each sense can only -furnish its own distinctive perception. Still farther, we bring forward -determinations respecting the perceptions which we manifestly cannot owe -to the senses, in that we predicate of these perceptions, being and -not-being, likeness and unlikeness, &c. These determinations, to which -also belong the beautiful and the odious, good and evil, constitute a -peculiar province of knowledge, which the soul, independently of every -sense-perception, brings forward through its own independent activity. -The ethical element of this Plato exhibits in his attack upon -sensualism, and also in other dialogues. He maintains (_in the -Sophist_), that men holding such opinions must be improved before they -can be instructed, and that when made morally better, they will readily -recognize the truth of the soul and its moral and rational capacities, -and affirm that these are real things, though objects of neither sight -nor of feeling. - -(2.) _The Relation of Knowing to Opinion._--Opinion is just as little -identical with knowing as is the sense-perception. An incorrect opinion -is certainly different from knowing, and a correct one is not the same, -for it can be engendered by the art of speech without therefore -attaining the validity of true knowledge. The correct opinion, so far as -it is true in matter though imperfect in form, stands rather midway -between knowing and not-knowing, and participates in both. - -(3.) _The Relation of Science to Thinking._--In opposition to the -Protagorean sensualism, we have already referred to an energy of the -soul independent of the sensuous perception and sensation, competent in -itself to examine the universal, and grasp true being in thought. There -is, therefore, a double source of knowledge, sensation and rational -thinking. Sensation refers to that which is conceived in the constant -becoming and perpetual change, to the pure momentary, which is in an -incessant transition from the was, through the now, into the shall be -(_Parm._ p. 152); it is, therefore, the source of dim, impure, and -uncertain knowledge; thinking on the other hand refers to the abiding, -which neither becomes nor departs, but remains ever the same. (_Tim._ p. -51.) Existence, says the Timaeus (p. 27) is of two kinds, "that which -ever is but has no becoming, and that which ever becomes but never is. -The one kind, which is always in the same state, is comprehended through -reflection by the reason, the other, which becomes and departs, but -never properly is, may be apprehended by the sensuous perception without -the reason." True science, therefore, flows alone from that pure and -thoroughly internal activity of the soul which is free from all -corporeal qualities and every sensuous disturbance. (_Phaed._ p. 65.) In -this state the soul looks upon things purely as they are (_Phaed._ p. 66) -in their eternal being and their unchangeable condition. Hence the true -state of the philosopher is announced in the Phaedon (p. 64) to be a -willingness to die, a longing to fly from the body, as from a hinderance -to true knowledge, and become pure spirit. According to all this, -science is the thinking of true being or of ideas; the means to discover -and to know these ideas, or the organ for their apprehension is the -dialectic, as the art of separating and combining conceptions; the true -objects of dialectics are ideas. - -3. THE DOCTRINE OF IDEAS IN ITS GENESIS.--The Platonic doctrine of ideas -is the common product of the Socratic method of forming conceptions, the -Heraclitic doctrine of absolute becoming, and the Eleatic doctrine of -absolute being. To the first of these Plato owes the idea of a knowing -through conceptions, to the second the recognition of the becoming in -the field of the sensuous, to the third the position of a field of -absolute reality. Elsewhere (_in the Philebus_) Plato connects the -doctrine of ideas with the Pythagorean thought that every thing may be -formed from unity and multiplicity, from the limit and the unlimited. -The aim of the Theataetus, the Sophist, and the Parmenides is to refute -the principles of the Eleatics and Heraclitics: this refutation is -effected in the Theataetus by combating directly the principle of an -absolute becoming, in the Sophist by combating directly the principle of -abstract being, and in the Parmenides by taking up the Eleatic one and -showing its true relations. We have already spoken of the Theataetus; we -will now look for the development of the doctrine of ideas in the -Sophist and Parmenides. - -The ostensible end of the former of these dialogues is to show that the -Sophist is really but a caricature of the philosopher, but its true end -is to fix the reality of the appearance, _i. e._ of the not-being, and -to discuss speculatively the relation of being and not-being. The -doctrine of the Eleatics ended with the rejection of all sensuous -knowledge, declaring that what we receive as the perception of a -multiplicity of things or of a becoming is only an appearance. In this -the contradiction was clear, the not-being was absolutely denied, and -yet its existence was admitted in the notion of men. Plato at once draws -attention to this contradiction, showing that a delusive opinion, which -gives rise to a false image or representation, is not possible, since -the whole theory rests upon the assumption that the false, the not-true, -_i. e._ not-being cannot even be thought. This, Plato continues, is the -great difficulty in thinking of not-being, that both he who denies and -he who affirms its reality is driven to contradict himself. For though -it is inexpressible and inconceivable either as one or as many, still, -when speaking of it, we must attribute to it both being and -multiplicity. If we admit that there is such a thing as a false opinion, -we assume in this very fact the notion of not-being, for only that -opinion can be said to be false which supposes either the not-being to -be, or makes that, which is not, to be. In short, if there actually -exists a false notion, so does there actually and truly exist a -not-being. After Plato had thus fixed the reality of not-being, he -discusses the relation of being and not-being, _i. e._ the relation of -conceptions generally in their combinations and differences. If -not-being has no less reality than being, and being no more than -not-being, if, therefore, _e. g._ the not-great is as truly real as the -great, then every conception may be apprehended according to its -opposite sides as being and not-being at the same time: it is a being in -reference to itself, as something identical with itself, but it is -not-being in reference to every one of the numberless other conceptions -which can be referred to it, and with which, on account of its -difference from them, it can have nothing in common. The conception of -the same [Greek: tauton] and the different [Greek: thateron] represent -the general form of an antithesis. These are the universal formulae of -combination for all conceptions. This reciprocal relation of conceptions -as at the same time being and not-being, by virtue of which they can be -arranged among themselves, forms now the basis for the art of -dialectics, which has to judge what conceptions can and what cannot be -joined together. Plato illustrates here by taking the conceptions of -being, motion (becoming), and rest (existence), and showing what are the -results of the combinations of these ideas. The conceptions of motion -and rest cannot well be joined together, though both of them may be -joined with that of being, since both are; the conception of rest is -therefore in reference to itself a being, but in reference to the -conception of motion a not-being or different. Thus the Platonic -doctrine of ideas, after having in the Theataetus attained its general -foundation in fixing the objective reality of conceptions, becomes now -still farther developed in the Sophist to a doctrine of the agreement -and disagreement of conceptions. The category which conditions these -reciprocal relations is that of not-being or difference. This -fundamental thought of the Sophist, that being is not without not-being -and not-being is not without being, may be expressed in modern -phraseology thus: negation is not not-being but determinateness, and on -the other hand all determinateness and concreteness of conceptions, or -every thing affirmative can be only through negation; in other words the -conception of contradiction is the soul of a philosophical method. - -The doctrine of ideas appears in the Parmenides as the positive -consequence and progressive development of the Eleatic principle. Indeed -in this dialogue, in that Plato makes Parmenides the chief speaker, he -seems willing to allow that his doctrine is in substance that of the -Eleatic sage. True, the fundamental thought of the dialogue--that the one -is not conceivable in its complete singleness without the many, nor the -many without the one, that each necessarily presupposes and reciprocally -conditions the other--stands in the most direct contradiction to -Eleaticism. Yet Parmenides himself, by dividing his poem into two parts, -and treating in the first of the one and in the second of the many, -postulates an inner mediation between these two externally so disjointed -parts of his philosophy, and in this respect the Platonic theory of -ideas might give itself out as the farther elimination, and the true -sense of the Parmenidean philosophizing. This dialectical mediation -between the one and the not-one or the many Plato now attempts in four -antinomies, which have ostensibly only a negative result in so far as -they show that contradictions arise both whether the one be adopted or -rejected. The positive sense of these antinomies, though it can be -gained only through inferences which Plato himself does not expressly -utter, but leaves to be drawn by the reader--is as follows. The first -antinomy shows that the one is inconceivable as such since it is only -apprehended in its abstract opposition to the many; the second, that in -this case also the reality of the many is inconceivable; the third, that -the one or the idea cannot be conceived as not-being, since there can be -neither conception nor predicate of the absolute not-being, and since, -if not-being is excluded from all fellowship with being, all becoming -and departing, all similarity and difference, every representation and -explanation concerning it must also be denied; and lastly, the fourth -affirms that the not-one or the many cannot be conceived without the one -or the idea. What now is Plato's aim in this discussion of the dialectic -relations between the conceptions of the one and the many? Would he use -the conception of the one only as an example to explain his dialectic -method with conceptions, or is the discussion of this conception itself -the very object before him? Manifestly the latter, or the dialogue ends -without result and without any inner connection of its two parts. But -how came Plato to make such a special investigation of this conception -of the one? If we bear in mind that the Eleatics had already perceived -the antithesis of the actual and the phenomenal world in the antithesis -of the one and the many, and that Plato himself had also regarded his -ideas as the unity of the manifold, as the one and the same in the -many--since he repeatedly uses "idea" and "the one" in the same sense, -and places (_Rep._ VII. 537) dialectics in the same rank with the -faculty of bringing many to unity--then is it clear that the one which is -made an object of investigation in the Parmenides is the idea in its -general sense, _i. e._ in its logical form, and that Plato consequently -in the dialectic of the one and the many would represent the dialectic -of the idea and the phenomenal world, or in other words would -dialectically determine and establish the correct view of the idea as -the unity in the manifoldness of the phenomenal. In that it is shown in -the Parmenides, on the one side, that the many cannot be conceived -without the one, and on the other side, that the one must be something -which embraces in itself manifoldness, so have we the ready inference on -the one side, that the phenomenal world, or the many, has a true being -only in so far as it has the one or the conception within it, and on the -other side, that since the conception is not an abstract one but -manifoldness in unity, it must actually have manifoldness in unity in -order to be able to be in the phenomenal world. The indirect result of -the Parmenides is that matter as the infinitely divisible and -undetermined mass has no actuality, but is in relation to the ideal -world a not-being, and though the ideas as the true being gain their -appearance in it, yet the idea itself is all that is actual in the -appearance or phenomenon; the phenomenal world derives its whole -existence from the ideal world which appears in it, and has a being only -so far as it has a conception or idea for its content. - -4. POSITIVE EXPOSITION OF THE DOCTRINE OF IDEAS.--Ideas may be defined -according to the different sides of their historical connection, as the -common in the manifold, the universal in the particular, the one in the -many, or the constant and abiding in the changing. Subjectively they are -principles of knowing which cannot be derived from experience they are -the intuitively certain and innate regulators of our knowledge. -Objectively they are the immutable principles of being and of the -phenomenal world, incorporeal and simple unities which have no relation -to space, and which may be predicated of every independent thing. The -doctrine of ideas grew originally out of the desire to give a definite -conception to the inner essence of things, and make the real world -conceivable as a harmoniously connected intellectual world. This desire -of scientific knowledge Aristotle cites expressly as the motive to the -Platonic doctrine of ideas. "Plato," he says (_Metaph._ XIII. 4), "came -to the doctrine of ideas because he was convinced of the truth of the -Heraclitic view which regarded the sensible world as a ceaseless flowing -and changing. His conclusion from this was, that if there be a science -of any thing there must be, besides the sensible, other substances which -have a permanence, for there can be no science of the fleeting." It is, -therefore, the idea of science which demands the reality of ideas, a -demand which cannot be granted unless an idea or conception is also the -ground of all being. This is the case with Plato. According to him there -can be neither a true knowing nor a true being without ideas and -conceptions which have an independent reality. - -What now does Plato mean by idea? From what has already been said it is -clear that he means something more than ideal conceptions of the -beautiful and the good. An idea is found, as the name itself ([Greek: -eidos]) indicates, wherever a universal conception of a species or kind -is found. Hence Plato speaks of the idea of a bed, table, strength, -health, voice, color, ideas of simple relations and properties, ideas of -mathematical figures, and even ideas of not-being, and of that, which in -its essence only contradicts the idea, baseness and vice. In a word, we -may put an idea wherever many things may be characterized by a common -name (_Rep._ X. 596): or as Aristotle expresses it (_Met._ XII. 3). -Plato places an idea to every class of being. In this sense Plato -himself speaks in the beginning of the Parmenides. Parmenides asks the -young Socrates what he calls ideas. Socrates answers by naming -unconditionally the moral ideas, the ideas of the true, the beautiful, -the good, and then after a little delay he mentions some physical ones, -as the ideas of man, of fire, of water; he will not allow ideas to be -predicated of that which is only a formless mass, or which is a part of -something else, as hair, mud and clay, but in this he is answered by -Parmenides, that if he would be fully imbued with philosophy, he must -not consider such things as these to be wholly despicable, but should -look upon them as truly though remotely participating in the idea. Here -at least the claim is asserted that no province of being is excluded -from the idea, that even that which appears most accidental and -irrational is yet a part of rational knowledge, in fact that every thing -existing may be brought within a rational conception. - -5. THE RELATION OF IDEAS TO THE PHENOMENAL WORLD. Analogous to the -different definitions of idea are the different names which Plato gives -to the sensible and phenomenal world. He calls it the many, the -divisible, the unbounded, the undetermined and measureless, the -becoming, the relative, great and small, not-being. The relation now in -which these two worlds of sense and of ideas stand to each other is a -question which Plato has answered neither fully nor consistently with -himself. His most common way is to characterize the relation of things -to conceptions as a participant, or to call things the copies and -adumbrations, while ideas are the archetypes. Yet this is so indefinite -that Aristotle properly says that to talk in this way is only to use -poetical metaphors. The great difficulty of the doctrine of ideas is not -solved but only increased by these figurative representations. The -difficulty lies in the contradiction which grows out of the fact that -while Plato admits the reality of the becoming and of the province of -the becoming, he still affirms that ideas which are substances ever at -rest and ever the same are the only actual. Now in this Plato is -formally consistent with himself, while he characterizes the _materiel_ -of matter not as a positive substratum but as not-being, and guards -himself with the express affirmation that he does not consider the -sensible as being, but only as something similar to being. (_Rep._ X. -597.) The position laid down in the Parmenides is also consistent with -this, that a perfect philosophy should look upon the idea as the -cognizable in the phenomenal world, and should follow it out in the -smallest particulars until every part of being should be known and all -dualism removed. In fine, Plato in many of his expressions seems to -regard the world of sensation only as a subjective appearance, as a -product of the subjective notion, as the result of a confused way of -representing ideas. In this sense the phenomena are entirely dependent -on ideas; they are nothing but the ideas themselves in the form of not -being; the phenomenal world derives its whole existence from the ideal -world which appears in it. But yet when Plato calls the sensible a -mingling of the same with the different or the not-being (_Tim._ p. 35), -when he characterizes the ideas as vowels which go through every thing -like a chain (_Soph._ p. 253), when he himself conceives the possibility -that matter might offer opposition to the formative energy of ideas -(_Tim._ p. 56), when he speaks of an evil soul of the world (_de Leg._ -X. 896), and gives intimations of the presence in the world of a -principle in nature hostile to God (_Polit._ p. 268), when he in the -Phaedon treats of the relation between body and soul as one wholly -discordant and malignant,--in all this there is evidence enough, even -after allowing for the mythical form of the Timaeus, and the rhetorical -composition which prevails in the Phaedon, to substantiate the -contradiction mentioned above. This is most clear in the Timaeus. Plato -in this dialogue makes the sensible world to be formed by a Creator -after the pattern of an idea, but in this he lays down as a condition -that this Demi-urge or Creator should find at hand a something which -should be apt to receive and exhibit this ideal image. This something -Plato compares to the matter which is fashioned by the artisan (whence -the later name _hyle_). He characterizes it as wholly undetermined and -formless, but possessing in itself an aptitude for every variety of -forms, an invisible and shapeless thing, a something which it is -difficult to characterize, and which Plato even does not seem inclined -very closely to describe. In this the actuality of matter is denied; -while Plato makes it equivalent to space it is only the place, the -negative condition of the sensible while it possesses a being only as it -receives in itself the ideal form. Still matter remains the objective -and phenomenal form of the idea: the visible world arises only through -the mingling of ideas with this substratum, and if matter be -metaphysically expressed as "the different," then does it follow with -logical necessity in a dialectical discussion that it is just as truly -being as not-being. Plato does not conceal from himself this difficulty, -and therefore attempts to represent with comparisons and images this -presupposition of a _hyle_ which he finds it as impossible to do without -as to express in a conceivable form. If he would do without it he must -rise to the conception of an absolute creation, or consider matter as an -ultimate emanation from the absolute spirit, or else explain it as -appearance only. Thus the Platonic system is only a fruitless struggle -against dualism. - -6. THE IDEA OF THE GOOD AND THE DEITY. If the true and the real is -exhibited in general conceptions which are so related to each other that -every higher conception embraces and combines under it several lower, so -that any one starting from a single idea may eventually discover all -(_Meno._ p. 81), then must the sum of ideas form a connected organism -and succession in which the lower idea appears as a stepping-stone and -presupposition to a higher. This succession must have its end in an idea -which needs no higher idea or presupposition to sustain it. This highest -idea, the ultimate limit of all knowledge, and itself the independent -ground of all other ideas, Plato calls the idea of the good, _i. e._ not -of the moral but of the metaphysical good. (_Rep._ VII. 517.) - -What this good is in itself, Plato undertakes to show only in images. -"In the same manner as the sun," he says in the Republic (VI. 506), "is -the cause of sight, and the cause not merely that objects are visible -but also that they grow and are produced, so the good is of such power -and beauty, that it is not merely the cause of science to the soul, but -is also the cause of being and reality to whatever is the object of -science, and as the sun is not itself sight or the object of sight but -presides over both, so the good is not science and truth but is superior -to both, they being not the good itself but of a goodly nature." The -good has unconditioned worth, and gives to every other thing all the -value it possesses. The idea of the good excludes all presupposition. It -is the ultimate ground at the same time of knowing and of being, of the -perceiver and the perceived, of the subjective and the objective, of the -ideal and the real, though exalted itself above such a division. (_Rep._ -VI. 508-517.) Plato, however, has not attempted a derivation of the -remaining ideas from the idea of the good; his course here is wholly an -empirical one; a certain class of objects are taken, and having referred -these to their common essence this is given out as their idea. He has -treated the individual conceptions so independently, and has made each -one so complete in itself, that it is impossible to find a proper -division or establish an immanent continuation of one into another. - -It is difficult to say precisely what relation this idea of the good -bore to the Deity in the Platonic view. Taking every thing together it -seems clear that Plato regarded the two as identical, but whether he -conceived this highest cause to be a personal being or not is a question -which hardly admits of a definite answer. The logical result of his -system would exclude the personality of God. If only the universal (the -idea) is the true being, then can the only absolute idea, the Deity, be -only the absolute universal; but that Plato was himself conscious of -this logical conclusion we can hardly affirm, any more than we can say -on the other hand that he was clearly a theist. For whenever in a -mythical or popular statement he speaks of innumerable gods, this only -indicates that he is speaking in the language of the popular religion, -and when he speaks in an accurate philosophical sense, he only makes the -relation of the personal deity with the idea a very uncertain one. Most -probable, therefore, is it that this whole question concerning the -personality of God was not yet definitely before him, that he took up -the religious idea of God and defended it in ethical interest against -the anthropomorphism of the mythic poets, that he sought to establish it -by arguments drawn from the evidences of design in nature, and the -universal prevalence of a belief in a God, while as a philosopher he -made no use of it. - -V. THE PLATONIC PHYSICS. 1. NATURE.--The connection between the Physics -and the Dialectics of Plato lies principally in two points--the -conception of becoming, which forms the chief property of nature, and -that of real being, which is at once the all sufficient and good, and -the true end of all becoming. Because nature belongs to the province of -irrational sensation we cannot look for the same accuracy in the -treatment of it, as is furnished in dialectics. Plato therefore applied -himself with much less zest to physical investigations than to those of -an ethical or dialectical character, and indeed only attended to them in -his later years. Only in one dialogue, the Timaeus, do we find any -extended evolution of physical doctrines, and even here Plato seems to -have gone to his work with much less independence than his wont, this -dialogue being more strongly tinctured with Pythagoreanism than any -other of his writings. The difficulty of the Timaeus is increased by the -mythical form on which the old commentators themselves have stumbled. If -we take the first impression that it gives us, we have, before the -creation of the world, a Creator as a moving and a reflecting principle, -with on the one side the ideal world existing immovable as the eternal -archetype, and on the other side, a chaotic, formless, irregular, -fluctuating mass, which holds in itself the germ of the material world, -but has no determined character nor substance. With these two elements -the Creator now blends the world-soul which he distributes according to -the relation of numbers, and sets it in definite and harmonious motion. -In this way the material world, which has become actual through the -arrangement of the chaotic mass into the four elements, finds its -external frame, and the process thus begun is completed in its external -structure by the formation of the organic world. - -It is difficult to separate the mythical and the philosophical elements -in this cosmogony of the Timaeus, especially difficult to determine how -far the historical construction, which gives a succession in time to the -acts of creation, is only a formal one, and also how far the affirmation -that matter is absolutely a not-being can be harmonized with the general -tenor of Plato's statements. The significance of the world-soul is -clearer. Since the soul in the Platonic system is the mean between -spirit and body, and as in the same way mathematical relations, in their -most universal expression as numbers, are the mean between mere sensuous -existence and the pure idea (between the one and the many as Plato -expresses it), it would seem clear that the world-soul, construed -according to the relation of numbers, must express the relation of the -world of ideas to that of sense, in other words, that it denotes the -sensible world as a thought represented in the form of material -existence. The Platonic view of nature, in opposition to the mechanical -attempts to explain it of the earlier philosophers, is entirely -teleological, and based upon the conception of the good, or, on the -moral idea. Plato conceives the world as the image of the good, as the -work of the divine munificence. As it is the image of the perfect it is -therefore only one, corresponding to the idea of the single -all-embracing substance, for an infinite number of worlds is not to be -conceived as actual. For the same reason the world is spherical, after -the most perfect and uniform structure, which embraces in itself all -other forms; its movement is in a circle, because this, by returning -into itself, is most like the movement of reason. The particular points -of the Timaeus, the derivation of the four elements, the separation of -the seven planets according to the musical scale, the opinion that the -stars were immortal and heavenly substances, the affirmation that the -earth holds an abiding position in the middle of the world, a view which -subsequently became elaborated to the Ptolemaic system, the reference of -all material figures to the triangle as the simplest plane figure, the -division of inanimate nature, according to the four elements, into -creatures of earth, water, and air, his discussions respecting organic -nature, and especially respecting the construction of the human body--all -these we need here only mention. Their philosophical worth consists not -so much in their material content, but rather in their fundamental idea, -that the world should be conceived as the image and the work of reason, -as an organism of order, harmony, and beauty, as the good actualizing -itself. - -2. THE SOUL.--The doctrine of the soul, considering it simply as the -basis of a moral action, and leaving out of view all questions of -concrete ethics, forms a constituent element in the Platonic physics. -Since the soul is united to the body, it participates in the motions and -changes of the body, and is, in this respect, related to the perishable. -But in so far as it participates in the knowledge of the eternal, _i. -e._ in so far as it knows ideas, does there live within it a divine -principle--reason. Accordingly, Plato distinguishes two components of the -soul--the divine and the mortal, the rational and the irrational. These -two are united by an intermediate link, which Plato calls [Greek: -thymos] or spirit, and which, though allied to reason is not reason -itself, since it is often exhibited in children and also in brutes, and -since even men are often carried away by it without reflection. This -threefoldness, here exhibited psychologically, is found, in different -applications, through all the last general period of Plato's literary -life. Based upon the anthropological triplicate of reason, soul and -body, it corresponds also to the division of theoretical knowledge into -science (or thinking), correct opinions (or sense-perception), and -ignorance, to the triple ladder of eroticism in the Symposium and the -mythological representation connected with this of Poros, Eros, and -Penia; to the metaphysical triplicate of the ideal world, mathematical -relations and the sensible world; and furnishes ground for deriving the -ethical division of virtue and the political division of ranks. - -So far as the soul is a mean between the spiritual and corporeal, may we -connect the Phaedon's proofs of its immortality with the psychological -view now before us. The common thought of these arguments is that the -soul, in its capacity for thinking, participates in the reason, and -being thus of an opposite nature to, and uncontrolled by the corporeal, -it may have an independent existence. The arguments are wholly -analytical, and possess no valid and universal proof; they proceed -entirely upon a _petitio principii_, they are derived partly from -mythical philosophemes, and manifest not only an obscure conception of -the soul, but of its relations to the body and the reason, and, so far -as the relation of the soul to the ideal world is in view, they furnish -in the best case only some proof for the immortality of him who has -raised his soul to a pure spirit, _i. e._ the immortality of the -philosopher. Plato was not himself deceived as to the theoretical -insufficiency of his arguments. Their number would show this, and, -besides, he expressly calls them proofs which amount to only human -probability, and furnish practical postulates alone. With this view he -introduces at the close of his arguments the myth of the lower world, -and the state of departed souls, in order, by complying with the -religious notions, and traditions of his countrymen, to gain a positive -support for belief in the soul's immortality. Elsewhere Plato also -speaks of the lower world, and of the future rewards and punishments of -the good and the evil, in accordance with the popular notions, as though -he saw the elements of a divine revelation therein; he tells of -purifying punishment in Hades, analogous to a purgatory; he avails -himself of the common notion to affirm that shades still subject to the -corporeal principle will hover after death over their graves, seeking to -recover their lifeless bodies, and at times he dilates upon the -migration of the soul to various human and brute forms. On the whole, we -find in Plato's proofs of immortality, as in his psychology generally, -that dualism, which here expresses itself as hatred to the corporeal, -and is connected with the tendency to seek the ultimate ground of evil -in the nature of the "different" and the sensible world. - -VI. THE PLATONIC ETHICS.--The ground idea of the good, which in physics -served only as an inventive conception, finds now, in the ethics, its -true exhibition. Plato has developed it prominently according to three -sides, as good, as individual virtue, and as ethical world in the state. -The conception of duty remains in the background with him as with the -older philosophers. - -1. GOOD AND PLEASURE.--That the highest good can be nothing other than -the idea of the good itself, has already been shown in the dialectics, -where this idea was suffered to appear as the ultimate end of all our -striving. But since the dialectics represent the supreme good as -unattainable by human reason, and only cognizable in its different modes -of manifestation, we can, therefore, only follow these different -manifestations of the highest good, which represent not the good itself, -but the good in becoming, where it appears as science, truth, beauty, -virtue, &c. We are thus not required to be equal to God, but only like -him (_Theaet._) It is this point of view which lies at the basis of the -graduated table of good, given in the Philebus. - -In seeking the highest good, the conception of pleasure must be -investigated. The Platonic standpoint here is the attempt to strike a -balance between Hedonism, (the Cyrenian theory that pleasure is the -highest good, _cf._ Sec. XIII. 3), and Cynicism. While he will not admit -with Aristippus that pleasure is the true good, neither will he find it -as the Cynics maintain, simply in the negation of its contrary, pain, -and thus deny that it belongs to the good things of human life. He finds -his refutation of Hedonism in the indeterminateness and relativity of -all pleasure, since that which at one time may seem as pleasure, under -other circumstances may appear as pain; and since he who chooses -pleasure without distinction, will find impure pleasures always combined -in his life with more or less of pain; his refutation of Cynicism he -establishes by showing the necessary connection between virtue and true -pleasure, showing that there is a true and enduring pleasure, the -pleasure of reason, found in the possession of truth and of goodness, -while a rational condition separate from all pleasure, cannot be the -highest good of a finite being. It is most prominently by this -distinction of a true and false, of a pure and impure pleasure, that -Plato adjusts the controversy of the two Socratic schools.--A detailed -exhibition of the Philebus we must here omit.--On the whole, in the -Platonic apprehension of pleasure, we cannot but notice that same -vacillation with which Plato every where treats of the relation between -the corporeal and the spiritual, at one time considering the former as a -hindrance to the latter, and at another as its serving instrument; now, -regarding it as a concurring cause to the good, and then, as the ground -of all evil; here, as something purely negative, and there, as a -positive substratum which supports all the higher intellectual -developments; and in conformity with this, pleasure is also considered -at one time as something equivalent to a moral act, and to knowledge, -and at another as the means and accidental consequence of the good. - -2. VIRTUE.--In his theory of virtue, Plato is wholly Socratic. He holds -fast to the opinion that it is science (_Protagoras_), and therefore, -teachable (_Meno_), and as to its unity, it follows from the dialectical -principle that the one can be manifold, or the manifold one, that, -therefore, virtue must both be regarded as one, and also in a different -respect, as many. Plato thus brings out prominently the union and -connection of all virtues, and is fond of painting, especially in the -introductory dialogues, some single virtue as comprising in itself the -sum of all the rest. Plato follows for the most part the fourfold -division of virtues, as popularly made; and first, in the Republic (IV. -441), he attempts a scientific derivation of them, by referring to each -of the three parts of the soul its appropriate virtue. The virtue of the -reason he calls prudence or wisdom, the directing or measuring virtue, -without whose activity valor would sink to brute impulse, and calm -endurance to stupid indifference; the virtue of spirit is valor, the -help-meet of reason, or spirit ([Greek: Thymos]) penetrated by science, -which in the struggle against pleasure and pain, desire and fear, -preserves the rational intelligence against the alarms with which -sensuous desires, would seek to sway the soul; the virtue of the -sensuous desires, and which has to reduce these within true and proper -grounds, is temperance, and that virtue in fine to which belong the due -regulation and mutual adjustment of the several powers of the soul, and -which, therefore, constitutes the bond and the unity of the three other -virtues, is justice. - -In this last conception, that of justice, all the elements of moral -culture meet together and centre, exhibiting the moral life of the -individual as a perfect whole, and then, by requiring an application of -the same principle to communities, the moral consideration is advanced -beyond the narrow circle of individual life. Thus is established the -whole of the moral world--Justice "in great letters," the moral life in -its complete totality, is the state. In this is first actualized the -demand for the complete harmony of the human life. In and through the -state comes the complete formation of matter for the reason. - -3. THE STATE.--The Platonic state is generally regarded as an ideal or -chimera, which it is impracticable to realize among men. This view of -the case has even been ascribed to Plato, and it has been said that in -his _Republic_ he attempted to sketch only a fine ideal of a state -constitution, while in the _Laws_ he traced out a practicable philosophy -of the state from the standpoint of the common consciousness. But in the -first place, this was not Plato's true meaning. Although he acknowledges -that the state he describes cannot be found on earth, and has its -archetype only in heaven, by which the philosopher ought to form himself -(IX. 592), still he demands that efforts should be made to realize it -here, and he even attempts to show the conditions and means under which -such a state could be made actual, not overlooking in all this the -defects arising from the different characters and temperaments of men. A -composition, dissociated from the idea, could only appear untrue to a -philosopher like Plato, who saw the actual and the true only in the -idea; and the common view which supposes that he wrote his Republic in -the full consciousness of its impracticability, mistakes entirely the -standpoint of the Platonic philosophy. Still farther the question -whether such a state as the Platonic is attainable and the best, is -generally perverted. The Platonic state is the Grecian state-idea given -in a narrative form. It is no vain and powerless ideal to picture the -idea as a rational principle in every moment of the world's history, -since the idea itself is that which is absolutely actual, that which is -essential and necessary in existing things. The truly ideal _ought_ not -to be actual, but _is_ actual, and the only actual; if an idea were too -good for existence, or the empirical actuality too bad for it, then were -this a fault of the ideal itself. Plato has not given himself up merely -to abstract theories, the philosopher cannot leap beyond his age, but -can only see and grasp it in its true content. This Plato has done. His -standpoint is his own age. He looks upon the political life of the -Greeks as then existing, and it is this life, exalted to its idea, which -forms the real content of the Platonic Republic. Plato has here -represented the Grecian morality in its substantial condition, If the -Platonic Republic seems prominently an ideal which can never be -realized, this is owing much less to its ideality than to the defects of -the old political life. The most prominent characteristic of the -Hellenic conception of the state, before the Greeks began to fall into -unbridled licentiousness, was the constraint thrown upon personal -subjective freedom, in the sacrifice of every individual interest to the -absolute sovereignty of the state. With Plato also, the state is every -thing. His political institutions, so loudly ridiculed by the ancients, -are only the undeniable consequences following from the very idea of the -Grecian state, which allowed neither to the individual citizen nor to a -corporation, any lawful sphere of action independent of itself. - -The grand feature of the Platonic state is, as has been said, the -exclusive sacrifice of the individual to the state, the reference of -moral to political virtue. Since man cannot reach his complete -development in isolation, but only as a member of an organic society -(the state), Plato therefore concludes that the individual purpose -should wholly conform to the general aim, and that the state must -represent a perfect and harmonious unity, and be a counterpart of the -moral life of the individual. In a perfect state all things, joy and -sorrow, and even eyes, ears and hands, must be common to all, so that -the social life would be as it were the life of one man. This perfect -universality and unity, can only be actualized when every thing -individual and particular falls away, and hence the difficulty of the -Platonic Republic. Private property and domestic life (in place of which -comes a community of goods and of wives), the duty of education, the -choice of rank and profession, the arts and sciences, all these must be -subjected and placed under the exclusive and absolute control of the -state. The individual may lay claim only to that happiness which belongs -to him as a constituent element of the state. From this point Plato goes -down into the minutest particulars, and gives the closest directions -respecting gymnastics and music, which form the two means of culture of -the higher ranks; respecting the study of mathematics, and philosophy, -the choice of stringed instruments, and the proper measure of verse; -respecting bodily exercise and the service of women in war; respecting -marriage settlements, and the age at which any one should study -dialectics, marry, and beget children. The state with him is only a -great educational establishment, a family in the mass.--Lyric poetry he -would allow only under the inspection of competent judges. Epic and -dramatic poetry, even Homer and Hesiod, should be banished from the -state, since they rouse and lead astray the passions, and give unworthy -representations of the gods. Exhibitions of physical degeneracy or -weakness should not be tolerated in the Platonic state; deformed and -sickly infants should be abandoned, and food and attention should be -denied to the sick.--In all this we find the chief antithesis of the -ancient to the modern state. Plato did not recognize the will and choice -of the individual, and yet the individual has a right to demand this. -The problem of the modern state has been to unite these two sides, to -bring the universal end and the particular end of the individual into -harmony, to reconcile the highest possible freedom of the conscious -individual will, with the highest possible supremacy of the state. - -The political institutions of the Platonic state are decidedly -aristocratic. Grown up in opposition to the extravagances of the -Athenian democracy, Plato prefers an absolute monarchy to every other -constitution, though this should have as its absolute ruler only the -perfect philosopher. It is a well-known expression of his, that the -state can only attain its end when philosophers become its rulers, or -when its present rulers have carried their studies so far and so -accurately, that they can unite philosophy with a superintendence of -public affairs (V. 473). His reason for claiming that the sovereign -power should be vested only in one, is the fact that very few are -endowed with political wisdom. This ideal of an absolute ruler who -should be able to lead the state perfectly, Plato abandons in the -_Laws_, in which work he shows his preference for a mixed constitution, -embracing both a monarchical and an aristocratic element. From the -aristocratic tendency of the Platonic ideal of a state, follows farther -the sharp division of ranks, and the total exclusion of the third rank -from a proper political life. In reality Plato makes but two classes in -his state, the subjects and the sovereign, analogous to his twofold -psychological division of sensible and intellectual, mortal and -immortal, but as in psychology he had introduced a middle step, spirit, -to stand between his two divisions there, so in the state he brings in -the military class between the ruler and those intended to supply the -bodily wants of the community. We have thus three ranks, that of the -ruler, corresponding to the reason, that of the watcher or warrior, -answering to spirit, and that of the craftsman, which is made parallel -to the appetites or sensuous desires. To these three ranks belong three -separate functions: to the first, that of making the law and caring for -the general good; to the second, that of defending the public welfare -from attacks of external foes; and to the third, the care of separate -interests and wants, as agriculture, mechanics, &c. From each of these -three ranks and its functions the state derives a peculiar virtue--wisdom -from the ruler, bravery from the warrior, and temperance from the -craftsman, so far as he lives in obedience to his rulers. In the proper -union of these three virtues is found the justice of the state, a virtue -which is thus the sum of all other virtues. Plato pays little attention -to the lowest rank, that of the craftsman, who exists in the state only -as means. He held that it was not necessary to give laws and care for -the rights of this portion of the community. The separation between the -ruler and the warrior is not so broad. Plato suffers these two ranks to -interpenetrate each other, and analogous to his original psychological -division, as though the reason were but spirit in the highest step of -its development, he makes the oldest and the best of the warriors rise -to the dignity and power of the rulers. The education of its warriors -should therefore be a chief care of the state, in order that their -spirit, though losing none of its peculiar energy, may yet be penetrated -by reason. The best endowed by nature and culture among the warriors, -may be selected at the age of thirty, and put upon a course of careful -training. When he has reached the age of fifty and looked upon the idea -of the good, he may be bound to actualize this archetype in the state, -provided always that every one wait his turn, and spend his remaining -time in philosophy. Only thus can the state be raised to the -unconditioned rule of reason under the supremacy of the good. - - - - -SECTION XV. - -THE OLD ACADEMY. - - -In the old Academy, we lose the presence of inventive genius; with few -exceptions we find here no movements of progress, but rather a gradual -retrogression of the Platonic philosophizing. After the death of Plato, -Speusippus, his nephew and disciple, held the chair of his master in the -Academy during eight years. He was succeeded by Xenocrates, after whom -we meet with Polemo, Crates, and Crantor. It was a time in which schools -for high culture were established, and the older teacher yielded to his -younger successor the post of instruction. The general characteristics -of the old Academy, so far as can be gathered from the scanty accounts, -were great attention to learning, the prevalence of Pythagorean -elements, especially the doctrine of numbers, and lastly, the reception -of fantastic and demonological notions, among which the worship of the -stars played a part. The prevalence of the Pythagorean doctrine of -numbers in the later instructions of the Academy, gave to mathematical -sciences, particularly arithmetic and astronomy, a high place, and at -the same time assigned to the doctrine of ideas a much lower position -than Plato had given it. Subsequently, the attempt was made to get back -to the unadulterated doctrine of Plato. Crantor is said to be the first -editor of the Platonic writings. - -As Plato was the only true Socraticist, so was Aristotle the only -genuine disciple of Plato, though often abused by his fellow-disciples -as unfaithful to his master's principles. - -We pass on at once to him, without stopping now to inquire into his -relation to Plato, or the advance which he made beyond his predecessor, -since these points will come up before us in the exhibition of the -Aristotelian philosophy. (_See_ Sec. XVI: III. 1.) - - - - -SECTION XVI. - -ARISTOTLE. - - -I. LIFE AND WRITINGS OF ARISTOTLE.--Aristotle was born 384 B. C. at -Stagira, a Greek colony in Thrace. His father, Nicomachus, was a -physician, and the friend of Amyntas, king of Macedonia. The former fact -may have had its influence in determining the scientific direction of -the son, and the latter may have procured his subsequent summons to the -Macedonian court. Aristotle at a very early age lost both his parents. -In his seventeenth year he came to Plato at Athens, and continued with -him twenty years. On account of his indomitable zeal for study, Plato -named him "the Teacher," and said, upon comparing him with Xenocrates, -that the latter required the spur, the former the bit. Among the many -charges made against his character, most prominent are those of jealousy -and ingratitude towards his master, but most of the anecdotes in which -these charges are embodied merit little credence. It is certain that -Aristotle, after the death of Plato, stood in friendly relations with -Xenocrates; still, as a writer, he can hardly be absolved from a certain -want of friendship and regard towards Plato and his philosophy, though -all this can be explained on psychological grounds. After Plato's death, -Aristotle went with Xenocrates to Hermeas, tyrant of Atarneus, whose -sister Pythias he married after Hermeas had fallen a prey to Persian -violence. After the death of Pythias he is said to have married his -concubine, Herpyllis, who was the mother of his son Nicomachus. In the -year 343 he was called by Philip of Macedon, to take the charge of the -education of his son Alexander, then thirteen years old. Both father and -son honored him highly, and the latter, with royal munificence, -subsequently supported him in his studies. When Alexander went to -Persia, Aristotle betook himself to Athens, and taught in the Lyceum, -the only gymnasium then vacant, since Xenocrates had possession of the -Academy, and the Cynics of the Cynosaerges. From the shady walks -[Greek: peripatoi] of the Lyceum, in which Aristotle was accustomed to -walk and expound his philosophy, his school received the name of the -Peripatetic. Aristotle is said to have spent his mornings with his more -mature disciples, exercising them in the profoundest questions of -philosophy, while his evenings were occupied with a greater number of -pupils in a more general and preparatory instruction. The former -investigations were called acroamatic, the latter exoteric. He abode at -Athens, and taught thirteen years, and then, after the death of -Alexander, whose displeasure he had incurred, he is said to have been -accused by the Athenians of impiety towards the gods, and to have fled -to Chalcis, in order to escape a fate similar to that of Socrates. He -died in the year 322 at Chalcis, in Eubaea. - -Aristotle left a vast number of writings, of which the smaller (perhaps -a fourth), but unquestionably the more important portion have come down -to us, though in a form which cannot be received without some scruples. -The story of Strabo about the fate of the Aristotelian writings, and the -injury which they suffered in a cellar at Scepsis, is confessedly a -fable, or at least limited to the original manuscripts; but the -fragmentary and descriptive form which many among them, and even the -most important (_e. g._ the metaphysics) possess, the fact that -scattered portions of one and the same work (_e. g._ the ethics) are -repeatedly found in different treatises, the irregularities and striking -contradictions in one and the same writing, the disagreement found in -other particulars among different works, and the distinction made by -Aristotle himself between acroamatic and exoterical writings, all this -gives reason to believe that we have, for the most part, before us only -his oral lectures written down, and subsequently edited by his scholars. - -II. UNIVERSAL CHARACTER AND DIVISION OF THE ARISTOTELIAN -PHILOSOPHY.--With Plato, philosophy had been national in both its form -and content, but with Aristotle, it loses its Hellenic peculiarity, and -becomes universal in scope and meaning; the Platonic dialogue changes -into barren prose; a rigid, artistic language takes the place of the -mythical and poetical dress; the thinking which had been with Plato -intuitive, is with Aristotle discursive; the immediate beholding of -reason in the former, becomes reflection and conception in the latter. -Turning away from the Platonic unity of all being, Aristotle prefers to -direct his attention to the manifoldness of the phenomenal; he seeks the -idea only in its concrete actualization, and consequently grasps the -particular far more prominently in its peculiar determinateness and -reciprocal differences, than in its connection with the idea. He -embraces with equal interest the facts given in nature, in history, and -in the inner life of man. But he ever tends toward the individual, he -must ever have a fact given in order to develope his thought upon it; it -is always the empirical, the actual, which solicits and guides his -speculation; his whole course is a description of the facts given, and -only merits the name of a philosophy because it comprehends the -empirical in its totality and synthesis; because it has carried out its -induction to the farthest extent. Only because he is the absolute -empiricist may Aristotle be called the truly philosopher. - -This character of the Aristotelian philosophy explains at the outset its -encyclopedian tendency, inasmuch as every thing given in experience is -equally worthy of regard and investigation. Aristotle is thus the -founder of many courses of study unknown before him; he is not only the -father of logic, but also of natural history, empirical psychology, and -the science of natural rights. - -This devotion of Aristotle to that which is given will also explain his -predominant inclination towards physics, for nature is the most -immediate and actual. Connected also with this is the fact that -Aristotle is the first among philosophers who has given to history and -its tendencies an accurate attention. The first book of the -_Metaphysics_ is also the first attempt at a history of philosophy, as -his politics is the first critical history of the different states and -constitutions. In both these cases he brings out his own theory only as -the consequence of that which has been historically given, basing it in -the former case upon the works of his predecessors, and in the latter -case upon the constitutions which lie before him. - -It is clear that according to this, the method of Aristotle must be a -different one from that of Plato. Instead of proceeding like the latter, -synthetically and dialectically, he pursues for the most part an -analytic and regressive course, that is, going backward from the -concrete to its ultimate ground and determination. While Plato would -take his standpoint in the idea, in order to explain from this position -and set in a clearer light that which is given and empirical, Aristotle -on the other hand, starts with that which is given, in order to find and -exhibit the idea in it. His method is, hence, induction; that is, the -derivation of certain principles and maxims from a sum of given facts -and phenomena; his mode of procedure is, usually, argument, a barren -balancing of facts, phenomena, circumstances and possibilities. He -stands out for the most part only as the thoughtful observer. Renouncing -all claim to universality and necessity in his results, he is content to -have brought out that which has an approximative truth, and the highest -degree of probability. He often affirms that science does not simply -relate to the changeless and necessary, but also to that which -ordinarily takes place, that being alone excluded from its province, -which is strictly accidental. Philosophy, consequently, has with him the -character and worth of a reckoning of probabilities, and his mode of -exhibition assumes not unfrequently only the form of a doubtful -deliberation. Hence there is no trace of the Platonic ideals, hence, -also, his repugnance to a glowing and poetic style in philosophy, a -repugnance which, while indeed it induces in him a fixed, philosophical -terminology, also frequently leads him to mistake and misrepresent the -opinions of his predecessors. Hence, also, in whatever he treated, his -thorough adherence to that which is actually given. - -Connected in fine with the empirical character of the Aristotelian -philosophizing, is the fragmentary form of his writings, and their want -of a systematic division and arrangement. Proceeding always in the line -of that which is given, from individual to individual, he considers -every province of the actual by itself, and makes it the subject of a -separate treatise; but he, for the most part, fails to indicate the -lines by which the different parts hang together, and are comprehended -in a systematic whole. Thus he holds up a number of co-ordinate -sciences, each one of which has an independent basis, but he fails to -give us the highest science which embraces them all. The principle is -sometimes affirmed that all the writings follow the idea of a whole; but -in their procedure there is such a want of all systematic connection, -and every one of his writings is a monograph so thoroughly independent -and complete in itself, that we are sometimes puzzled to know what -Aristotle himself received as a part of philosophy, and what he -excluded. We are never furnished with an independent scheme or outline, -we rarely find definite results or summary explanations, and even the -different divisions of philosophy which he gives, vary essentially from -one another. At one time he divides science into theoretical and -practical, at another, he adds to these two a poetical creative science, -while still again he speaks of the three parts of science, ethics, -physics, and logic. At one time he divides the theoretical philosophy -into logic and physics, and at another into theology, mathematics, and -physics. But no one of these divisions has he expressly given as the -basis on which to represent his system; he himself places no value upon -this method of division, and, indeed, openly declares himself opposed to -it. It is, therefore, only for the sake of uniformity that we can give -the preference here to the threefold division of philosophy as already -adopted by Plato. - -III. LOGIC AND METAPHYSICS. 1. CONCEPTION AND RELATION OF THE TWO.--The -word metaphysics was first furnished by the Aristotelian commentators. -Plato had used the term dialectics, and Aristotle had characterized the -same thing as "first philosophy," while he calls physics the "second -philosophy." The relation of this first philosophy to the other sciences -Aristotle determines in the following way. Every science, he says, must -have for investigation a determined province and separate form of being, -but none of these sciences reaches the conception of being itself. Hence -there is needed a science which should investigate that which the other -sciences take up hypothetically, or through experience. This is done by -the first philosophy which has to do with being as such, while the other -sciences relate only to determined and concrete being. The metaphysics, -which is this science of being and its primitive grounds, is the _first_ -philosophy, since it is presupposed by every other discipline. Thus, -says Aristotle, if there were only a physical substance, then would -physics be the first and the only philosophy, but if there be an -immaterial and unmoved essence which is the ground of all being, then -must there also be an antecedent, and because it is antecedent, a -universal philosophy. The first ground of all being is God, whence -Aristotle occasionally gives to the first philosophy the name of -theology. - -It is difficult to determine the relation between this first philosophy -as the science of the ultimate ground of things, and that science which -is ordinarily termed the logic of Aristotle, and which is exhibited in -the writings bearing the name of the _Organon_. Aristotle himself has -not accurately examined the relations of these two sciences, the reason -of which is doubtless to be found in the incomplete form of the -metaphysics. But since he has embraced them both under the same name of -logic, since the investigation of the essence of things (VII. 17), and -the doctrine of ideas (XIII. 5), are expressly called logical, since he -repeatedly attempts in the Metaphysics (_Book_ IV.), to establish the -logical principle of contradiction as an absolute presupposition for all -thinking and speaking and philosophizing, and employs the method of -argument belonging to that science which has to do with the essence of -things (III. 2. IV. 3), and since, in fine, the categories to which he -had already dedicated a separate book in the Organon are also discussed -again in the Metaphysics (_Book_ V.), it follows that this much at least -may be affirmed with certainty, that he would not absolutely separate -the investigations of the Organon from those of the Metaphysics, and -that he would not counsel the ordinary division of formal logic and -metaphysics, although he has omitted to show more clearly their inner -connection. - -2. LOGIC.--The great problem both of the logical faculty and also of -logic both as science and art, consists in this, viz., to form and judge -of conclusions, and through conclusions to be able to establish a proof. -The conclusions, however, arise from propositions, and the propositions -from conceptions. According to this natural point of view, which lies in -the very nature of the case, Aristotle has divided the content of the -logical and dialectical doctrine contained in the different treatises of -the Organon. The first treatise in the Organon is that containing the -_categories_, a work which treats of the universal determinations of -being, and gives the first attempt at an ontology. Of these categories -Aristotle enumerates ten; essence, magnitude, quality, relation, the -where, the when, position, habit, action, and passion. The second -treatise (_de interpretatione_) investigates speech as the expression of -thought, and discusses the doctrine of the parts of speech, propositions -and judgments. The third are the analytic books, which show how -conclusions may be referred back to their principles and arranged in -order of their antecedence. The first Analytic contains in two books the -universal doctrine of the Syllogism. Conclusions are according to their -content and end either apodictic, which possess a certain and -incontrovertible truth, or dialectic, which are directed toward that -which may be disputed and is probable, or, finally, sophistic, which are -announced deceptively as correct conclusions while they are not. The -doctrine of apodictic conclusions and thus of proofs is given in the two -books of the second Analytic, that of dialectic, is furnished in the -eight books of the Topic, and that of sophistic in the treatise -concerning "Sophistical Convictions." - -A closer statement of the Aristotelian logic would be familiar to every -one, since the formal representations of this science ordinarily given, -employ for the most part only the material furnished by Aristotle. Kant -has remarked, that since the time of the Grecian sage, logic has made -neither progress nor retrogression. Only in two points has the formal -logic of our time advanced beyond that of Aristotle; first, in adding to -the categorical conclusion which was the only one Aristotle had in mind, -the hypothetical and disjunctive, and second, in adding the fourth to -the first three figures of conclusion. But the incompleteness of the -Aristotelian logic, which might be pardoned in the founder of this -science, yet abides, and its thoroughly empirical method not only still -continues, but has even been exalted to a principle by making the -antithesis, which Aristotle did not, between the form of a thought and -the content. Aristotle, in reality, only attempted to collect the -logical facts in reference to the formation of propositions, and the -method of conclusions; he has given in his logic only the natural -history of finite thinking. However highly now we may rate the -correctness of his abstraction, and the clearness with which he brings -into consciousness the logical operation of the understanding, we must -make equally conspicuous with this the want of all scientific derivation -and foundation. The ten categories which he, as already remarked, has -discussed in a separate treatise, he simply mentions, without furnishing -any ground or principle for this enumeration; that there are this number -of categories is only a matter of fact to him, and he even cites them -differently in different writings. In the same way also he takes up the -figures of the conclusion empirically; he considers them only as forms -and determinations of relation of the formal thinking, and continues -thus, although he allows the conclusion to stand for the only form of -science within the province of the logic of the understanding. Neither -in his Metaphysics nor in his Physics does he cite the rules of the -formal methods of conclusion which he develops in the Organon, clearly -proving that he has nowhere in his system properly elaborated either his -categories or his analytic; his logical investigations do not influence -generally the development of his philosophical thought, but have for the -most part only the value of a preliminary scrutiny. - -3. METAPHYSICS.--Among all the Aristotelian writings, the Metaphysics is -least entitled to be called a connected whole; it is only a connection -of sketches, which, though they follow a certain fundamental idea, -utterly fail of an inner mediation and a perfect development. We may -distinguish in it seven distinct groups. (1) Criticism of the previous -philosophic systems viewed in the light of the four Aristotelian -principles, _Book_ I. (2) Positing of the apories or the philosophical -preliminary questions, III. (3) The principle of contradiction, IV. (4) -Definitions, V. (5) Examination of the conception of essence ([Greek: -ousia]) and conceivable being (the [Greek: ti en einai]) or the -conception of matter ([Greek: hyle]), form ([Greek: eidos]), and that -which arises from the connection of these two ([Greek: synolon]), VII. -VIII. (6) Potentiality and actuality, IX. (7) The Divine Spirit moving -all, but itself unmoved, XII. (8) To these we may add the polemic -against the Platonic doctrine of ideas and numbers, which runs through -the whole Metaphysics, but is especially carried out in _Books_ XIII. -and XIV. - -(1) _The Aristotelian Criticism of the Platonic Doctrine of Ideas._--In -Aristotle's antagonism to the Platonic doctrine of ideas, we must seek -for the specific difference between the two systems, a difference of -which Aristotle avails himself of every opportunity (especially -_Metaph._ I. and XIII.) to express. Plato had beheld every thing actual -in the idea, but the idea was to him a rigid truth, which had not yet -become interwoven with the life and the movement of existence. Such a -view, however, had this difficulty, the idea, however little Plato would -have it so, found standing over against it in independent being the -phenomenal world, while it furnished no principle on which the being of -the phenomenal world could be affirmed. This Aristotle recognizes and -charges upon Plato, that his ideas were only "immortalized things of -sense," out of which the being and becoming of the sensible could not be -explained. In order to avoid this consequence, he himself makes out an -original reference of mind to phenomenon, affirming that the relation of -the two is, that of the actual to the possible, or that of form to -matter, and considering also mind as the absolute actuality of matter, -and matter, as the potentially mind. His argument against the Platonic -doctrine of ideas, Aristotle makes out in the following way. - -Passing by now the fact that Plato has furnished no satisfactory proof -for the objective and independent reality of ideas, and that his theory -is without vindication, we may affirm in the first place that it is -wholly unfruitful, since it possesses no ground of explanation for -being. The ideas have no proper and independent content. To see this we -need only refer to the manner in which Plato introduced them. In order -to make science possible he had posited certain substances independent -of the sensible, and uninfluenced by its changes. But to serve such a -purpose, there was offered to him nothing other than this individual -thing of sense. Hence he gave to this individual a universal form, which -was with him the idea. From this it resulted, that his ideas can hardly -be separated from the sensible and individual objects which participate -in them. The ideal duality and the empirical duality is one and the same -content. The truth of this we can readily see, whenever we gain from the -adherents to the doctrine of ideas a definite statement respecting the -peculiar character of their unchangeable substances, in comparison with -the sensible and individual things which participate in them. The only -difference between the two consists in appending _per se_ to the names -expressing the respective ideas; thus, while the individual things are -_e. g._ man, horse, etc., the ideas are man _per se_, horse _per se_, -etc. There is only this formal change for the doctrine of ideas to rest -upon; the finite content is not removed, but is only _characterized_ as -perpetual. This objection, that in the doctrine of ideas we have in -reality only the sensible posited as a not-sensible, and endowed with -the predicate of immutability, Aristotle urges as above remarked when he -calls the ideas "immortalized things of sense," not as though they were -actually something sensible and spacial, but because in them the -sensible individual loses at once its individuality, and becomes a -universal. He compares them in this respect with the gods of the popular -and anthropomorphical religion; as these are nothing but deified men, so -the ideas are only things of nature endowed with a supernatural potency, -a sensible exalted to a not-sensible. This identity between the ideas -and their respective individual things amounts moreover to this, that -the introduction of ideas doubles the objects to be known in a -burdensome manner, and without any good results. Why set up the same -thing over again? Why besides the sensible twofoldness and -threefoldness, affirm a twofoldness and threefoldness in the idea? The -adherents of the doctrine of ideas, when they posit an idea for every -class of natural things, and through this theory set up two equivalent -theories of sensible and not-sensible substances, seem therefore to -Aristotle like men who think they can reckon better with many numbers -than with few, and who therefore go to multiplying their numbers before -they begin their reckoning. Therefore again the doctrine of ideas is a -tautology, and wholly unfruitful of the explanation of being, "The ideas -give no aid to the knowledge of the individual things participating in -them, since the ideas are not immanent in these things, but separate -from them." Equally unfruitful are the ideas when considered in -reference to the arising and departing of the things of sense. They -contain no principle of becoming, of movement. There is in them no -causality which might bring out the event, or explain the event when it -had actually happened. Themselves without motion and process, if they -had any effect, it could only be that of perfect repose. True, Plato -affirms in his Phaedon that the ideas are causes both of being and -becoming, but in spite of the ideas, nothing ever _becomes_ without a -moving; the ideas, by their separation from the becoming, have no such -capacity to move. This indifferent relation of ideas to the actual -becoming, Aristotle brings under the categories, potentiality and -actuality, and farther says that the ideas are only potential, they are -only bare possibility and essentiality because they are wanting in -actuality.--The inner contradiction of the doctrine of ideas is in brief -this, viz., that it posits an individual immediately as a universal, and -at the same time pronounces the universal, the species, as numerically -an individual, and also that the ideas are set up on the one side as -separate individual substances, and on the other side as participant, -and therefore as universal. Although the ideas as the original -conceptions of species are a universal, which arise when being is fixed -in existence, and the one brought out in the many, and the abiding is -given a place in the changeable, yet can they not be defined as they -should be according to the Platonic notion, that they are individual -substances, for there can be neither definition nor derivation of an -absolute individual, since even the word (and only in words is a -definition possible) is in its nature a universal, and belongs also to -other objects, consequently, every predicate in which I attempt to -determine an individual thing cannot belong exclusively to that thing. -The adherents of the doctrine of ideas, are therefore not at all in a -condition to give an idea a conceivable termination; their ideas are -indefinable.--In general, Plato has left the relation of the individual -objects to ideas very obscure. He calls the ideas archetypes, and allows -that the objects may participate in them; yet are these only poetical -metaphors. How shall we represent to ourselves this "participation," -this copying of the original archetype? We seek in vain for more -accurate explanations of this in Plato. It is impossible to conceive how -and why matter participates in the ideas. In order to explain this, we -must add to the ideas a still higher and wider principle, which contains -the cause for this "participation" of objects, for without a moving -principle we find no ground for "participation." Alike above the idea -(_e. g._ the idea of man), and the phenomenon (_e. g._ the individual -man), there must stand a third common to both, and in which the two were -united, _i. e._ as Aristotle was in the habit of expressing this -objection, the doctrine of ideas leads to the adoption of a "third man." -The result of this Aristotelian criticism is the immanence of the -universal in the individual. The method of Socrates in trying to find -the universal as the essence of the individual, and to give definitions -according to conception, was as correct (for no science is possible -without the universal) as the theory of Plato in exalting these -universal conceptions to an independent subsistence as real individual -substances, was erroneous. Nothing universal, nothing which is a kind or -a species, exists besides and separate from the individual; a thing and -its conception cannot be separated from each other. With these -principles Aristotle hardly deviated from Plato's fundamental idea that -the universal is the only true being, and the essence of individual -things; it may rather be said that he has freed this idea from its -original abstraction, and given it a more profound mediation with the -phenomenal world. Notwithstanding his apparent contradiction to Plato, -the fundamental position of Aristotle is the same as that of his master, -viz., that the essence of a thing ([Greek: to ti estin, to ti en einai]) -is known and represented in the conception; Aristotle however recognizes -the universal, the conception to be as little separated from the -determined phenomenon as form from matter, and essence or substance -([Greek: ousia]) in its most proper sense is, according to him, only -that which cannot be predicated of another, though of this other every -remaining thing may be predicated; it is that which is a this ([Greek: -tode ti]), the individual thing and not a universal. - -(2.) _The four Aristotelian principles or causes, and the relation of -form and matter._--From the criticism of the Platonic doctrine of ideas -arose directly the groundwork of the Aristotelian system, the -determinations of matter ([Greek: hyle]), and form ([Greek: eidos]). -Aristotle enumerates four metaphysical principles or causes: matter, -form, moving cause, and end. In a house, for instance, the matter is the -wood, the form is the conception of the house, the moving cause is the -builder, and the end is the actual house. These four determinations of -all being resolve themselves upon a closer scrutiny into the fundamental -antithesis of matter and form. The conception of the moving cause is -involved with the two other ideal principles of form and of end. The -moving cause is that which has secured the transition of the incomplete -actuality or potentiality to the complete actuality, or induces the -becoming of matter to form. But in every movement of the incomplete to -the complete, the latter antedates in conception this movement, and is -its motive. The moving cause of matter is therefore form. So is man the -moving and producing cause of man; the form of the statue in the -understanding of the artist is the cause of the movement by which the -statue is produced; health must be in the thought of the physician -before it can become the moving cause of convalescence; so in a certain -degree is medicine, health, and the art of building the form of the -house. But in the same way, the moving or first cause is also identical -with the final cause or end, for the end is the motive for all becoming -and movement. The moving cause of the house is the builder, but the -moving cause of the builder is the end to be attained, _i. e._ the -house. From such examples as these it is seen that the determinations of -form and end may be considered under one, in so far as both are united -in the conception of actuality ([Greek: energeia]), for the end of -every thing is its completed being, its conception or its form, the -bringing out into complete actuality that which was potentially -contained in it. The end of the hand is its conception, the end of the -seed is the tree, which is at the same time the essence of the seed. The -only fundamental determinations, therefore, which cannot be wholly -resolved into each other, are matter and form. - -Matter when abstracted from form in thought, Aristotle regarded as that -which was entirely without predicate, determination and distinction. It -is that abiding thing which lies at the basis of all becoming; but which -in its own being is different from every thing which has become. It is -capable of the widest diversity of forms, but is itself without -determinate form; it is every thing in possibility, but nothing in -actuality. There is a first matter which lies at the basis of every -determinate thing, precisely as the wood is related to the bench and the -marble to the statue. With this conception of matter Aristotle prides -himself upon having conquered the difficulty so frequently urged of -explaining the possibility that any thing can become, since being can -neither come out of being nor out of not-being. For it is not out of -not-being absolutely, but only out of that which as to actuality is -not-being, but which potentially is being, that any thing becomes. -Possible or potential being is no more not-being than actuality. Every -existing object of nature is hence but a potential thing which has -become actualized. Matter is thus a far more positive substratum with -Aristotle than with Plato, who had treated it as absolutely not-being. -From this is clearly seen how Aristotle could apprehend matter in -opposition to form as something positively negative and antithetic to -the form, and as its positive denial ([Greek: steresis]). - -As matter coalesces with potentiality, so does form coincide with -actuality. It is that which makes a distinguishable and actual object, a -this ([Greek: tode ti]) out of the undistinguished and indeterminate -matter; it is the peculiar virtue, the completed activity, the soul of -every thing. That which Aristotle calls form, therefore, is not to be -confounded with what we perhaps may call shape; a hand severed from the -arm, for instance, has still the outward shape of a hand, but according -to the Aristotelian apprehension, it is only a hand now as to matter and -not as to form: an actual hand, a hand as to form, is only that which -can do the proper work of a hand. Pure form is that which, in truth, is -without matter ([Greek: to ti en einai]); or, in other words, the -conception of being, the pure conception. But such pure form does not -exist in the realm of determined being; every determined being, every -individual substance ([Greek: ousia]), every thing which is a this, is -rather a totality of matter and form, a ([Greek: sunolon]). It is, -therefore, owing to matter, that being is not pure form and pure -conception; matter is the ground of the becoming, the manifold, and the -accidental; and it is this, also, which gives to science its limits. For -in precisely the measure in which the individual thing bears in itself a -material element is it uncognizable. From what has been said, it follows -that the opposition between matter and form is a variable one, that -being matter in one respect which in another is form; building-wood, _e. -g._ is matter in relation to the completed house, but in relation to the -unhewn tree it is form; the soul in respect to the body is form, but in -respect to the reason, which is the form of form ([Greek: eidos eidous]) -is it matter. On this standpoint the totality of all existence may be -represented as a ladder, whose lowest step is a prime matter ([Greek: -prote hule]), which is not at all form, and whose highest step is an -ultimate form which is not at all matter, but is pure form (the -absolute, divine spirit). That which stands between these two points is -in one respect matter, and in another respect form, _i. e._ the former -is ever translating itself into the latter. This position, which lies at -the basis of the Aristotelian view of nature, is attained analytically -through the observation that all nature exhibits the perpetual and -progressive transition of matter into form, and shows the exhaustless -and original ground of things as it comes to view in ever ascending -ideal formations. That all matter should become form, and all that is -potential should be actual, and all that is should be known, is -doubtless the demand of the reason and the end of all becoming; yet is -this actually impracticable, since Aristotle expressly affirms that -matter as the antithesis, or denial of form, can never become wholly -actualized, and therefore can never be perfectly known. The Aristotelian -system ends thus like its predecessors, in the unsubdued dualism of -matter and form. - -(3.) _Potentiality and Actuality_ ([Greek: dynamis] and [Greek: -energeia]).--The relation of matter to form, logically apprehended, is -but the relation of potentiality to actuality. These terms, which -Aristotle first employed according to their philosophical significance, -are very characteristic for his system. We have in the movement of -potential being to actual being the explicit conception of becoming, and -in the four principles we have a distribution of this conception in its -parts. The Aristotelian system is consequently a system of the becoming, -in which the Heraclitic principle appears again in a richer and -profounder apprehension, as that of the Eleatics had done with Plato. -Aristotle in this has made no insignificant step towards the subjection -of the Platonic dualism. If matter is the possibility of form, or reason -becoming, then is the opposition between the idea and the phenomenal -world potentially overcome, at least in principle, since there is one -being which appears both in matter and form only in different stages of -development. The relation of the potential to the actual Aristotle -exhibits by the relation of the unfinished to the finished work, of the -unemployed carpenter to the one at work upon his building, of the -individual asleep to him awake. Potentially the seed-corn is the tree, -but the grown up tree is it actually; the potential philosopher is he -who is not at this moment in a philosophizing condition; even before the -battle the better general is the potential conqueror; potentially is -space infinitely divisible; in fact every thing is potentially which -possesses a principle of motion, of development, or of change, and -which, if unhindered by any thing external, will be of itself. Actuality -or entelechy on the other hand indicates the perfect act, the end as -gained, the completely actual (the grown-up tree _e.g._ is the entelechy -of the seed-corn), that activity in which the act and the completeness -of the act fall together, _e. g._ to see, to think where he sees and he -has seen, he thinks and he has thought (the acting and the completeness -of the act) are one and the same, while in those activities which -involve a becoming, _e. g._ to learn, to go, to become well, the two are -separated. In this apprehension of form (or idea) as actuality or -entelechy, _i. e._ in joining it with the movement of the becoming, is -found the chief antagonism of the Aristotelian and Platonic systems. -Plato considers the idea as being at rest, and consisting for itself, in -opposition to the becoming and to motion; but with Aristotle the idea is -the eternal product of the becoming, it is an eternal energy, _i. e._ an -activity in complete actuality, it is not perfect being, but is being -produced in every moment and eternally, through the movement of the -potential to its actual end. - -(4.) _The Absolute, Divine Spirit._--Aristotle has sought to establish -from a number of sides, the conception of the absolute spirit, or as he -calls it, the first mover, and especially by joining it to the relation -of potentiality and actuality. - -(_a._) _The Cosmological Form._--The actual is ever antecedent to the -potential not only in conception (for I can speak of potentiality only -in reference to some activity) but also in time, for the acting becomes -actual only through an acting; the uneducated becomes educated through -the educated, and this leads to the claim of a first mover which shall -be pure activity. Or, again, it is only possible that there should be -motion, becoming, or a chain of causes, except as a principle of motion, -a mover exists. But this principle of motion must be one whose essence -is actuality, since that which only exists in possibility cannot alone -become actual, and therefore cannot be a principle of motion. All -becoming postulates with itself that which is eternal and which has not -become, that which itself unmoved is a principle of motion, a first -mover. - -(_b._) _The Ontological Form._--In the same way it follows from the -conception of potentiality, that the eternal and necessary being cannot -be potential. For that which potentially is, may just as well either be -or not be; but that which possibly is not, is temporal and not eternal. -Nothing therefore which is absolutely permanent, is potential, but only -actual. Or, again, if potentiality be the first, then can there be no -possible existence, but this contradicts the conception of the absolute -or that which it is impossible should not be. - -(_c._) _The Moral Form._--Potentiality always involves a possibility to -the most opposite. He who has the capacity to be well, has also the -capacity to be sick, but actually no man is at the same time both sick -and well. Therefore actuality is better than potentiality, and only it -can belong to the eternal. - -(_d._) So far as the relation of potentiality and actuality is identical -with the relation of matter and form, we may apprehend in the following -way these arguments for the existence of a being which is pure -actuality. The supposition of an absolute matter without form (the -[Greek: prote hule]) involves also the supposition of an absolute form -without matter (a [Greek: proton eidos]). And since the conception of -form resolves itself into the three determinations, of the moving, the -conceivable, and the final cause, so is the eternal one the absolute -principle of motion (the first mover [Greek: proton kinoun]), -the absolute conception or pure intelligible (the pure [Greek: ti hen -einai]), and the absolute end. - -All the other predicates of the first mover or the highest principle of -the world, follow from these premises with logical necessity. Unity -belongs to him, since the ground of the manifoldness of being lies in -the matter and he has no participation in matter; he is immovable and -abiding ever the same, since otherwise he could not be the absolute -mover and the cause of all becoming; he is life as active self-end and -actuality; he is at the same time intelligible and intelligence, because -he is absolutely immaterial and free from nature; he is active, _i. e._ -thinking intelligence, because his essence is pure actuality; he is -self-contemplating intelligence, because the divine thought cannot -attain its actuality in any thing extrinsic, and because if it were the -thought of any thing other than itself, this would make it depend upon -some potential existence for its actualization. Hence the famed -Aristotelian definition of the absolute that it is the thought of -thought ([Greek: noesis noeaeos]), the personal unity of the thinking -and the thought, of the knowing and the known, the absolute -subject-object. In the Metaphysics (XII. 1.) we have a statement in -order of these attributes of the Divine Spirit, and an almost devout -sketch of the eternally blessed Deity, knowing himself in his eternal -tranquillity as the absolute truth, satisfied with himself, and wanting -neither in activity nor in any virtue. - -As would appear from this statement, Aristotle has never fully developed -the idea of his absolute spirit, and still less has he harmonized it -with the fundamental principles and demands of his philosophy, although -many consequences of his system would seem to drive him to this, and -numerous principles which he has laid down would seem to prepare the way -for it. This idea is unexpectedly introduced in the twelfth book of the -Metaphysics simply as an assertion, without being farther and -inductively substantiated. It is at once attended with important -difficulties. We do not see why the ultimate ground of motion or the -absolute spirit must be conceived as a personal being; we do not see how -any thing can he a moving cause and yet itself unmoved; how it can be -the origin of all becoming, that is of the departing and arising, and -itself remain a changeless energy, a principle of motion with no -potentiality to be moved, for the moving thing must stand in a relation -of passive and active with the thing moved. Moreover, Aristotle, as -would follow from these contradictory determinations, has never -thoroughly and consistently determined the relation between God and the -world. He has considered the absolute spirit only as contemplative and -theoretical reason, from whom all action must be excluded because he is -perfect end in himself, but every action presupposes an end not yet -perfected; we have thus no true motive for his activity in reference to -the world. He cannot be truly called the first mover in his theoretical -relation alone, and since he is in his essence extra-mundane and -unmoved, he cannot once permeate the life of the world with his -activity; and since also matter on one side never rises wholly to form, -we have, therefore, here again the unreconciled dualism between the -Divine spirit and the unmistakable reality of matter. Many of the -arguments which Aristotle brings against the gods of Anaxagoras may be -urged against his own theory. - -IV. THE ARISTOTELIAN PHYSICS.--The Aristotelian Physics, which embraces -the greater portion of his writings, follows the becoming and the -building up of matter into form, the course through which nature as a -living being progresses in order to become individual soul. All becoming -has an end; but end is form, and the absolute form is spirit. With -perfect consistency, therefore, Aristotle regards the human individual -of the male sex as the end and the centre of earthly nature in its -realized form. All else beneath the moon is, as it were, an unsuccessful -attempt of nature to produce the male human, a superfluity which arises -from the impotence of nature to subdue the whole of matter and bring it -into form. Every thing which does not gain the universal end of nature -must be regarded as incomplete, and is properly an exception or -abortion. For instance, he calls it an abortion when a child does not -resemble its father; and the female child he looks upon as an abortion -in a less degree, which he accounts for by the insufficient energy of -the male as the forming principle. In general, Aristotle regards the -female as imperfect in comparison with the male, an imperfection which -belongs in a higher degree to all animals except man. If nature did her -work with perfect consciousness, then were all these mistakes, these -incomplete and improper formations inexplicable, but she is an artist -working only after an unconscious impulse, and does not complete her -work with a clear and rational insight. - -1. The universal conditions of all natural existence, _motion_, -_matter_, _space_ and _time_, Aristotle investigates in the books of -Physics. These physical conceptions may, moreover, be reduced to the -metaphysical notions of potentiality and actuality; motion is -accordingly defined as the activity of being potentially, and is -therefore a mean between the merely potential entity and the perfectly -realized activity;--space is the possibility of motion and possesses, -therefore, potentially, though not actively, the property of infinite -divisibility; time is in the same way the infinitely divisible, -expressing the measure of motion in number, and is the number of motion -according to before and after. All three are infinite, but the infinite -which is represented in them is only potentially but not actually a -whole: it comprehends nothing, but is itself comprehended,--a fact -mistaken by those who are accustomed to extol the infinite as though it -comprehended and held every thing in itself, because it had some -similarity with the whole. - -2. From his conception of motion Aristotle derives his view of the -_collective universe_, as brought out in his books _De Caelo_. The most -perfect motion is the circular, because this is constant, uniform, and -ever returning into itself. The world as a whole is therefore -conditioned by the circular motion, and being a whole complete in -itself, it has a spherical form. But because the motion which returns -into itself is better than every other, it follows, from the same -ground, that in this spherical universe the better sphere will be in the -circumference where the circular motion is most perfect, and the -inferior one will arrange itself around the centre of the universal -sphere. The former is heaven, the latter is earth, and between the two -stand the planetary spheres. Heaven, as the place of circular motion, -and the scene of unchangeable order, stands nearest the first moving -cause, and is under its immediate influence; it is the place where the -ancients, guided by the correct tradition of a lost wisdom, have, placed -the Divine abode. Its parts, the fixed stars, are passionless and -eternal essences, which have attained the best end, which must be -eternally conceived in a tireless activity, and which, though not -clearly cognizable, are yet much more divine than man, A lower sphere, -next to that of the fixed stars, is the sphere of the planets, among -which, besides the five known to the ancients, he reckons the sun and -the moon. This sphere stands a little removed from the greatest -perfection: instead of moving directly from right to left, as do the -fixed stars, the planets move in contrary directions and in oblique -orbits; they serve the fixed stars, and are ruled by their motion. -Lastly, the earth is in the centre of the universe, farthest removed -from the first mover, and hence partaking in the smallest degree of the -Divine. There are thus three kinds of being, exhibiting three stages of -perfection, and necessary for the explanation of nature; first, the -absolute spirit or God, an immaterial being, who, himself unmoved, -produces motion; second, the super-terrestrial region of the heavens, a -being which is moved and which moves, and which, though not without -matter, is eternal and unchangeable, and possesses ever a circular -motion; and, lastly, in the lowest course this earth, a changeful being, -which has only to play the passive part of being moved. - -3. _Nature in a strict sense_, the scene of elemental working, -represents to us a constant and progressive transition of the elementary -to the vegetative, and of the vegetative to the animal world. The lowest -step is occupied by the inanimate bodies of nature, which are simple -products of the elements mingling themselves together, and have their -entelechy only in the determinate combinations of these elements, but -whose energy consists only in striving after a fitting place in the -universe, and in resting there so far as they reach it unhindered. But -now such a mere external entelechy is not possessed by the living -bodies; within them dwells a motion as organizing principle by which -they attain to actuality, and which as a preserving activity develops in -them towards a perfected organization,--in a word they have a soul, for a -soul is the entelechy of an organic body. In plants we find the soul -working only as persevering and nourishing energy: the plant has no -other function than to nourish itself and to propagate its kind; among -animals--where we find a progress according to the mode of their -reproduction--the soul appears as sensitive; animals have sense, and are -capable of locomotion; lastly, the human soul is at the same time -nutritive, sensitive, and cognitive. - -4. _Man_, as the end of all nature, embraces in himself the different -steps of development in which the life of nature is exhibited. The -division of the faculties of the soul must therefore be necessarily -regulated, according to the division of living creatures. As the -nutritive faculty is alone the property of vegetables, and sensation, of -animals, while to the more perfect animals locomotion also belongs, so -are these three activities also development steps of the human soul, the -antecedent being the necessary condition of, and presupposed in time by, -the subsequent, while the soul itself is nothing other than the union of -these different activities of an organic body in one common end, as the -entelechy of the organic body. The fourth step, thought or reason, -which, added to the three others, constitutes the peculiarity of the -human soul, forms alone an exception from the general law. It is not a -simple product of the lower facilities of the soul, it does not stand -related to them simply as a higher stage of development, nor simply as -the soul to the body, as the end to the instrument, as actuality to -possibility, as form to matter. But as pure intellectual activity, it -completes itself without any mediation of a bodily organ; as the reason -comes into the body from without, so is it separable from the body, and -therefore has it no inner connection with the bodily functions, but is -something wholly foreign in nature. True, there exists a connection -between thought and sensation, for while the sensations are outwardly -divided, according to the different objects of sense, yet internally -they meet in one centre, as a common sense. Here they become changed -into images and representations, which again become transmuted into -thoughts, and so it might seem as if thought were only the result of the -sensation, as if intelligence were passively determined; (here we might -notice the proposition falsely ascribed to Aristotle: _nihil est in -intellectu quod non fuerit in sensu_, and also the well-known though -often misunderstood comparison of the soul with an unwritten tablet, -which only implies this much, viz., that as the unwritten tablet is -potentially but not actually a book, so does knowledge belong -potentially though not actually to the human reason; fundamentally and -radically the thought may have in itself universal conceptions, so far -as it has the capacity to form them, but not actually, nor in a -determined or developed form). But this passivity presupposes rather an -activity; for if the thought in its actuality, in that it appears as -knowledge, _becomes_ all forms and therefore all things, then must the -thought _constitute itself_ that which it becomes, and therefore all -passively determined human intelligence rests on an originally active -intelligence, which exists as self-actualizing possibility and pure -actuality, and which, as such, is wholly independent of the human body, -and has not its entelechy in it but in itself, and is not therefore -participant in the death of the body, but lives on as universal reason, -eternal and immortal. The Aristotelian dualism here again appears. -Manifestly this active intelligence stands related to the soul as God to -nature. The two sides possess no essential relation to each other. As -the Divine spirit could not enter the life of the world, so is the human -spirit unable to permeate the life of sense; although it is determined -as something passionless and immaterial, still must it as soul be -connected with matter, and although it is pure and self-contemplative -form, still it should be distinguished from the Divine spirit which is -its counterpart; the want of a satisfactory mediation on the side of the -human and on that of the Divine, is in these respects unmistakable. - -V. THE ARISTOTELIAN ETHICS. 1. RELATION OF ETHICS TO PHYSICS.--Aristotle, -guided by his tendency towards the natural, has more closely connected -ethics and physics than either of his predecessors, Socrates or Plato, -had done. While Plato found it impossible to speak of the good in man's -moral condition, disconnected from the idea of the good in itself, -Aristotle's principal object is to determine what is good for man -solely; and he supposes that the good in itself, the idea of the good, -in no way facilitates the knowledge of that good, which alone is -attainable in practical life. It is only the latter, the moral element -in the life of men, and not the good in the great affairs of the -universe, with which ethics has to do. Aristotle therefore considers the -good especially in its relation to the natural condition of men, and -affirms that it is the end towards which nature herself tends. Instead -of viewing the moral element as something purely intellectual, he rather -apprehends it as only the bloom of the physical, which here becomes -spiritualized and ethical; instead of making virtue to be knowledge, he -treats it as the normal perfection of the natural instinct. That man is -_by nature_ a political animal, is his fundamental proposition for the -doctrine of the state. - -From this connection of the ethical and the physical, arose the -objections which Aristotle urged against the Socratic conception of -virtue. Socrates had looked to the dialectical exclusively for the -ground of all morality, and had accordingly made virtue and knowledge -one. But in this, said Aristotle, the pathological element which is -associated by nature with every moral act, is destroyed. It is not -reason, but the circumstances and natural bias of the soul which are the -first ground of virtue. There is an instinct in the soul which at first -strives unconsciously after the good, which is only subsequently sought -with the full moral insight. Moral virtue arises first from that which -is natural. It is on this ground, also, that Aristotle combats the -notion that virtue may be learned. It is not through the perfection of -knowledge, but by exercise that we become acquainted with the good. It -is by a practice of moral acts that we become virtuous, just as by a -practice of building and of music we become architects and musicians; -for the habit which is the ground of moral constancy, is only a fruit of -the abundant repetition of a moral action. Hence it is that originally -we have our virtuous or our vicious dispositions in our power, but as -soon as they are formed either to virtue or to vice, we are no longer -able to control them. It is by three things, therefore, nature, habit, -and reason, that man becomes good. The standpoint of Aristotle is in -these respects directly opposed to that of Socrates. While Socrates -regarded the moral and the natural as two opposites, and made the moral -conduct to be the consequent of a rational enlightenment, Aristotle -treated both as different steps of development, and reversing the order -of Socrates, made the rational enlightenment in moral things consequent -upon the moral conduct. - -2. THE HIGHEST GOOD.--Every action has an end; but since every end is -only itself a means to some other, we need therefore something after -which we can strive for its own sake, and which is a good absolutely, or -a best. What now is this highest good and supreme object of human -pursuit? In name, at least, all men are agreed upon it, and call it -happiness, but what happiness is, is a much disputed point. If asked in -what human happiness consists, the first characteristic given would be -that it belongs alone to the peculiar being of man. But sensation is not -peculiar to man, for he shares this with the brute. A sensation of -pleasure, therefore, which arises when some desire is gratified, may be -the happiness of the brute, but certainly does not constitute the -essential of human happiness. Human happiness must express the -completeness of intelligent existence, and because intelligence is -essentially activity, therefore the happiness of man cannot consist in -any merely passive condition, but must express a completeness of human -action. Happiness therefore is a well-being, which is at the same time a -well-doing, and it is a well-doing which satisfies all the conditions of -nature, and which finds the highest contentment or well-being in an -unrestrained energy. Activity and pleasure are thus inseparably bound -together by a natural bond, and happiness is the result of their union -when they are sustained through a perfect life. Hence the Aristotelian -definition of happiness. It is a perfect practical activity in a perfect -life. - -Although it might seem from this as though Aristotle placed the -happiness of man in the natural activity of the soul, and regarded this -as self-sufficient, still he is not blind to the fact that perfect -happiness is dependent on other kinds of good whose possession is not -absolutely within our power. It is true he expresses an opinion, that -outward things in moderation are sufficient, and that only great success -or signal reverses materially influence the happens of life; still he -holds that wealth, the possession of friends and children, noble birth, -beauty of body, etc., are more or less necessary conditions of -happiness, though these are partly dependent on accidental -circumstances. These wavering and inconsistent views of Aristotle -respecting the nature of happiness, naturally rise from his empirical -method of investigation. Careful in noting every thing which our limited -experience seems to utter, he expressly avoids making either virtue or -pleasure his principle, because actual experience shows the separation -of the two. Although therefore he gives directions in general to strive -after that pleasure in which the good man delights, or which is -connected with a virtuous activity, yet is pleasure with him an end for -its own sake, and not merely an accident of virtue, an empiricist, -Aristotle is here also a dualist, while the Stoics and Epicureans have -respectively taken and held fast to each of the two sides. - -3. CONCEPTION OF VIRTUE.--As has already been seen in the Aristotelian -Polemic against Socrates, virtue is the product of an oft-repeated moral -action, a condition acquired through practice, a moral dexterity of the -soul. The nature of this dexterity is seen in the following way: every -action completes something as its work; but now if a work is imperfect -when it has either a want or a superfluity, so also is every action -imperfect in so far as there is in it either too little or too much; its -perfection, therefore, is only found as it contains the right degree, -the true mean between the too much and too little. Accordingly, virtue -in general may be explained as the observation of the right mean in -action, by which is meant not the arithmetical or absolute mean, but the -one relative to ourselves. For what is enough for one individual is -insufficient for another. The virtue of a man, of a woman, of a child, -and of a slave is respectively different. Thus, virtue depends upon -time, circumstance, and relation. The determination of this correct mean -will always waver. In the impossibility of an active and exhaustive -formula, we can only say respecting it that it is the correct mean as -determined by a correct practical insight which is seen to be such by -the intelligent man. - -It follows from this general conception of virtue, that there will be as -many separate virtues as there are circumstances of life, and as men are -ever entering into new relations, in which it becomes difficult -practically to determine the correct method of action, Aristotle, in -opposition to Plato, would limit the field of separate virtues by no -definite number. Only certain fundamental virtues can be named according -as there are certain fixed and fundamental relations among men. For -instance, man has a fixed relation to pleasure and pain. In relation to -pain, the true moral mean is found in neither fearing nor courting it, -and this is valor. In relation to pleasure, the true mean standing -between greediness and indifference is temperance. In social life, the -moral mean is between doing and suffering wrong, which is justice. In a -similar way many other virtues might be characterized, each one of them -standing as a mean between two vices, the one of which expresses a want -and the other a superfluity. A closer exhibition of the Aristotelian -doctrine of virtue would have much psychological and linguistic -interest, though but little philosophical worth. Aristotle takes the -conception of his virtues more from the use of language than from a -thoroughly applied principle of classification. His classification of -virtues is, therefore, without any stable ground, and is differently -given in different places. The conception of the correct mean which -Aristotle makes the measure of a moral act is obviously unworthy of a -systematic representation, for as it cannot be determined how the -intelligent man would act in every case, there could never be given any -specific directions how others should act. In fine, the criterion of -virtue as the correct mean between two vices cannot be always applied -for in the virtue of wisdom, _e. g._ which Aristotle describes as the -mean between simplicity and cunning, there is no such thing as too much. - -4. THE STATE.--Aristotle, like Plato, makes the highest condition of -moral virtue attainable only through political life. The state exists -before the individual, as the whole is prior to its parts. The -rationality and morality of the state is thus antecedent to that of the -individual. Hence in the best state, moral and political virtue, the -virtue of the man and the virtue of the citizen are one and the same -thing, although in states as they are, the good citizen is not -necessarily also the good man. But though this principle harmonized with -Plato, yet Aristotle, at whose time the old aboriginal states had -already begun their process of dissolution, cherished a very different -view concerning the relation of the individual and the family to the -state. He allows to both these an incomparably greater consideration, -and yields to them a far wider field of independent action. Hence he -combats Plato's community of wives and goods, not simply on the ground -of its practicability, but also on the ground of its principle, since -the state cannot be conceived as a strict unit, or as possessing any -such centralization as would weaken or destroy individual activity. With -Plato the state is but the product of the philosophical reflection, -while with Aristotle it results from given circumstances, from history -and experience, and he therefore wholly omits to sketch a model state or -a normal constitution, but carefully confines his attention to those -which actually exist. Although the ideal of a state constitution in the -form of a limited monarchy is unmistakably in his mind, still he -contents himself with portraying the different kinds of polities in -their peculiarities, their origin, and their reciprocal transitions. He -does not undertake to declare which is the best state absolutely, since -this depends upon circumstances, and one constitution is not adapted for -every state. He simply attempts to show what form of the state is -relatively the best and the most advisable under certain historical -circumstances, and under given natural, climatic, geographic, economic, -and intellectual conditions. In this he is faithful to the character of -his whole philosophy. Standing on the basis of the empirical, he -advances here as elsewhere, critically and reflectively, and in despair -of attaining the absolutely true and good, he seeks for these -relatively, with his eye fixed only on the probable and the practicable. - -VI.--THE PERIPATETIC SCHOOL.--The school of Aristotle, called the -Peripatetic, can here only be mentioned; the want of independence in its -philosophizing, and the absence of any great and universal influence, -rendering it unworthy an extended notice. Theophrastus, Eudemus, and -Strato are its most famous leaders. Like most philosophical schools, it -confines itself chiefly to a more thorough elaboration and explanation -of the system of its master. In some empirical provinces, especially the -physical, the attempt was made to carry out still further the system, -while at the same time its speculative basis was set aside and -neglected. - -VII.--TRANSITION TO THE POST-ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY.--The productive -energy of Grecian philosophy expends itself with Aristotle, -contemporaneously and in connection with the universal decay of Grecian -life and spirit. Instead of the great and universal systems of a Plato -and an Aristotle, we have now systems of a partial and one-sided -character, corresponding to that universal breach between the subject -and the objective world which characterized the civil, religious, and -social life of this last epoch of Greece, the time succeeding Alexander -the Great. That subjectivity, which had been first propounded by the -Sophists, was at length, after numerous struggles, victorious, though -its triumph was gained upon the ruins of the Grecian civil and artistic -life; the individual has become emancipated, the subject is no longer to -be given up to the objective world, the liberated subjectivity must now -be perfected and satisfied. This process of development is seen in the -post-Aristotelian philosophy, though it finds its conditioning cause in -the character of the preceding philosophical strivings. The dualism -which formed the chief want of the systems both of Plato and Aristotle, -has forced itself upon our attention at every step. The attempt which -had been made, with the greatest expenditure of which the Grecian mind -was capable, to refer back to one ultimate ground both subject and -object, mind and matter, had produced no satisfactory result; and these -two oppositions, around which all previous philosophy had struggled in -vain, still remained disconnected. Wearied with the fruitless attempts -at mediation, the subject now breaks with the objective world. Its -attention is directed towards itself in its own self-consciousness. The -result of this gives us either STOICISM, where the moral subject appears -in the self-sufficiency of the sage to whom every external good and -every objective work is indifferent, and who finds a good only in a -moral activity; or EPICUREANISM, where the subject delights itself in -the inner feeling of pleasure and the calm repose of a satisfied heart, -enjoying the present and the past, and never fearing the future while it -sees in the objective world only a means by which it can utter itself; -or, again, Scepticism, where the subject, doubting and rejecting all -objective truth and science, appears in the apathy of the Sceptic, who -has broken both theoretically and practically with the objective world. -In fine, NEW-PLATONISM, the last of the ancient philosophical systems, -bears this same character of subjectivity, for this whole system turns -upon the exaltation of the subject to the absolute, and wherever it -speculates respecting God and his relation to man, it is alone in order -to establish the progressive transition from the absolute object to the -human personality. The ruling principle in it all is the interest of the -subjectivity, and the fact that in this system there are numerous -objective determinations, is only because the subject has become -absolute. - - - - -SECTION XVII. - -STOICISM. - - -Zeno, of Cittium, a city of Cyprus, an elder contemporary of Antigonus -Gonatas, king of Macedon, is generally given as the founder of the -Stoical school. Deprived of his property by shipwreck, he took refuge in -philosophy, incited also by an inner bias to such pursuits. He at first -became a disciple of the Cynic Crateas, then of Stilpo, one of the -Megarians, and lastly he betook himself to the Academy, where he heard -the lessons of Xenocrates and Polemo. Hence the eclectic character of -his teaching. It has in fact been charged against him, that differing -but little if at all from the earlier schools, he attempted to form a -school of his own, with a system wherein he had changed nothing but -names. He opened a school at Athens, in the "variegated porch," so -called from the paintings of Polygnotus, with which it was adorned, -whence his adherents received the name of "philosophers of the porch" -(Stoics). Zeno is said to have presided over his school for fifty-eight -years, and at a very advanced age to have put an end to his existence. -He is praised for the temperance and the austerity of his habits, while -his abstemiousness is proverbial. The monument in his honor, erected -after his death by the Athenians, at the instance of Antigonus, bore the -high but simple eulogium that his life had been in unison with his -philosophy. _Cleanthes_ was the successor of Zeno in the Stoic school, -and faithfully carried out the method of his master. Cleanthes was -succeeded by _Chrysippus_, who died about 208 B. C. He has been regarded -as the chief prop of this school, in which respect it was said of him, -that without a Chrysippus there would never have been a Porch. At all -events, as Chrysippus was an object of the greatest veneration, and of -almost undisputed authority with the later Stoics, he ought to be -considered as the principal founder of the school. He was a writer so -voluminous, that his works have been said to amount to seven hundred and -five, among which, however, were repeated treatises upon the same -propositions, and citations without measure from poets and historians, -given to prove and illustrate his opinions. Not one of all his writings -has come down to us. Chrysippus closes the series of the philosophers -who founded the Porch. The later heads of the school, as _Panaetius_, the -friend of the younger Scipio (his famous work De Officiis, Cicero has -elaborated in his treatise of the same name), and _Posidonius_, may be -classed with Cicero, Pompeius, and others, and were eclectic in their -teachings. The Stoics have connected philosophy most intimately with the -duties of practical life. Philosophy is with them the practice of -wisdom, the exercise of virtue. Virtue and science are with them one, in -so far at least that they divide virtue in reference to philosophy into -physical, ethical, and logical. But though they go on according to this -threefold division, and treat of logic and physics, and though they even -rank physics higher than either of the other sciences, regarding it as -the mother of the ethical and the science of the Divine, yet do we find -their characteristic standpoint most prominently in their theory of -morals. - -1. LOGIC.--We have already said that it is the breach between subject and -object, which forms the basis of all post-Aristotelian philosophy. The -beginning of this philosophy of subjectivity is found with the Stoics. -The feature most worthy of notice in their logic, is the striving after -a subjective criterion of the truth, by which they might distinguish the -true representation from the false. Since they limited all scientific -knowledge to the knowledge of the senses, they found this criterion in -that which was evident in the sensuous impression. They conceived that -they had answered the whole problem, in affirming that the true or -conceivable representation reveals not only itself, but also its object: -it, they said, is nothing else than a representation which is produced -by a present object in a manner like itself. - -2. PHYSICS.--In their physics, where they follow for the most part -Heraclitus, the Stoics are distinguished from their predecessors, -especially from Plato and Aristotle, by their thoroughly carried out -proposition that nothing uncorporeal exists, that every thing essential -is corporeal (just as in their logic they had sought to derive all -knowledge from the sensuous perception). This sensualism or materialism -of the Stoics which, as we have seen in their logic, lies at the basis -of their theory of knowledge, might seem foreign to all their moral and -idealistic tendencies, but is clearly explained from their subjective -standpoint, for, when the thought has become so intensely engrossed in -the subject, the objective world can only be regarded as a corporeal and -material existence. The most immediate consequence of such a view is -their pantheism. Aristotle before them had separated the Divine Being -from the world, as the pure and eternal form from the eternal matter; -but so far as this separation implied a distinction which was not simply -logical, but actual and real, the Stoics would not admit it. It seemed -to them impossible to dissever God from matter, and they therefore -considered God and the world as power and its manifestation, and thus as -one. Matter is the passive ground of things, the original substratum for -the divine activity: God is the active and formative energy of matter -dwelling within it, and essentially united to it: the world is the body -of God, and God is the soul of the world. The Stoics, therefore, -considered God and matter as one identical substance, which, on the side -of its passive and changeable capacity they call matter, and on the side -of its active and changeless energy, God. But since they, as already -remarked, considered the world as ensouled by God in the light of a -living and rational being, they were obliged to treat the conception of -God not only in a physical but also in its ethical aspect. God is not -only in the world as the ruling and living energy of this great [Greek: -zoon] (animal), but he is also the universal reason which rules the -whole world and penetrates all matter; he is the gracious Providence -which cares for the individual and the whole; he is wise, and is the -ground of that natural law which commands the good and forbids the evil; -he punishes and rewards; he possesses a perfect and blessed life. But -accustomed to regard every thing spiritual only in a sensuous way, the -Stoics were obliged to clothe this ideal conception of God in a material -form, apprehending it as the vital warmth or an original fire, analogous -to the view of the earlier natural philosophers, who held that the soul, -and even reason itself, consisted in the vital warmth. The Stoics -express this thought in different ways. At one time they call God the -rational breath which passes through all nature; at another, the -artistic fire which fashions or begets the universe; and still again the -ether; which, however, they hardly distinguish from the artistic fire. -From these varying views, we see that it did not belong to the Stoics to -represent the conception of God in any determinate kind of existence. -They availed themselves of these expressions only to indicate that God, -as the universal animating energy in the world, could not be -disconnected from a corporeal agency. This identification of God and the -world, according to which the Stoics regarded the whole formation of the -universe as but a period in the development of God, renders their -remaining doctrine concerning the world very simple. Every thing in the -world seemed to them to be permeated by the divine life, and was -regarded as but the flowing out of this most perfect life through -certain channels, until it returned in a necessary circle back again to -itself. It is not necessary here to speak more closely of the physics of -this school. - -3. THE ETHICS.--The ethics of the Stoics is most closely connected with -their physics. In the physics we saw the rational order of the universe -as it existed through the divine thought. In the ethics, the highest law -of human action, and thus the whole moral legality of life is dependent -upon this rational order and conformity to law in universal nature, and -the highest good or the highest end of our strivings is to shape our -life according to this universal law, to live in conformity with the -harmony of the world or with nature. "Follow nature," or "live in -harmony with nature," is the moral maxim of the Stoics. More accurately: -live in harmony with thy rational nature so far as this has not been -distorted nor refined by art, but is held in its natural simplicity. - -From this moral principle, in which we have also the Stoic conception of -virtue, the peculiarities of their theory of morals follow with logical -necessity. - -(1.) _Respecting the Relation of Virtue to Pleasure._--When the demand is -made that the life should be in conformity with nature, the individual -becomes wholly subjected to the universal, and every personal end is -excluded. Hence pleasure, which of all ends is the most individual, must -be disregarded. In pleasure that activity in which blessedness consists -is abated, and this could only appear to the Stoics as a restraint of -life, and thus as an evil. Pleasure is not in conformity with nature, -and is no end of nature, says Cleanthes; and though other Stoics relax a -little from the strictness of this opinion, and admit that pleasure may -be according to nature, and is to be considered in a certain degree as a -good, yet they all held fast to the doctrine, that it has no moral worth -and is no end of nature, but is only something which is accidentally -connected with the free and fitting activity of nature, while itself is -not an activity, but a passive condition of the soul. In this lies the -whole severity of the Stoic doctrine of morals; every thing personal is -cast aside, every external end of action is foreign to the moral man, -the action in wisdom is the only good. From this follows directly: - -(2.) _The View of the Stoics Concerning External Good._--If virtue, as -the activity in conformity to nature, is exclusively a good, and if it -alone can lead to happiness, then external good of every kind is -something morally indifferent, and can neither be the object of our -striving nor the end of any moral action. The action itself and not that -towards which it tends is good. Hence such special ends as health, -wealth, &c., are in themselves worthless and indifferent. They may -result either in good or evil, and when deprived of them the happiness -of the virtuous man is not destroyed. The Stoics yield from the rigor of -their fundamental principle only in a single instance. They admit that -there may be a distinction among indifferent things; that while none of -these can be called a moral good, yet some may be preferable to others, -and that the preferable, so far as it contributes to a life in -conformity to nature, should enter into the account of a moral life. So -the sage will prefer health and wealth when these are balanced in the -choice with sickness and poverty, but though these objects have been -rationally chosen, he does not esteem them as really good, for they are -not the highest, they are inferior to the virtuous acting, in comparison -with which every thing else sinks to insignificance. In making this -distinction between the good and the preferable, we see how the Stoics -exclude from the good every thing relative, and hold fast to it alone in -its highest significance. - -(3.) This abstract apprehension of the conception of virtue is still -farther verified in the rigid antagonism which the Stoics affirmed -between virtue and not-virtue, reason and sense. Either, they conclude, -reason is awakened in the life of man and holds the mastery over him, or -it is not awakened, and he serves his irrational instincts. In the -former case we have a good and in the latter a bad man, while between -these two cases as between virtue and vice, there is no mean. And since -virtue cannot be partially possessed, but the man must be wholly -virtuous or not at all, it follows that virtue as such is without -degree, just as truth is, and hence also all good acts are equally good, -because they spring from the full freedom of the reason, and all vicious -ones equally bad, because they are impelled by the irrational instinct. - -(4.) But this abstractedness of the moral standpoint, this rigid -opposition of reason and irrationality, of the highest good and the -individual good, of virtue and pleasure, has no power to furnish a -system of concrete moral duties. The universal moral principle of the -Stoics fails in its applicability to the individual instance. The Stoic -morals has no concrete principle of moral self-determination. How must -we act in every individual instance, in every moral relation, so as to -act according to nature? To this inquiry Stoicism can give no answer. -Its system of particular duties is thus wholly without a scientific -form, and is only held together by some universal conceptions which it -contains. For the most part they satisfy themselves with describing in -general terms the action according to nature, and with portraying their -ideal of the wise man. The characteristics which they give this ideal -are partly paradoxical. The wise man is free even in chains, for he acts -from himself unmoved by fear or desire; the wise man alone is king, for -he alone is not bound by laws and owes fealty to no one; he is the true -rich man, the true priest, prophet, and poet. He is exalted above all -law and every custom; even that which is most despicable and -base--deception, suicide, murder--he may commit at a proper time and in a -virtuous character. In a word the Stoics describe their wise man as a -god, and yield it to him to be proud and to boast of his life like Zeus. -But where shall we find such a sage? Certainly not among the living. In -the time long ago there may have been a perfect sage of such a pattern; -but now, and for a long time back, are men at best only fools who strive -after wisdom and virtue. The conception of the wise man represented, -therefore, to the Stoics only an ideal, the actualization of which we -should strive after, though without ever hoping to reach it; and yet -their system of particular duties is almost wholly occupied in -portraying this unreal and abstract ideal--a contradiction in which it is -seen most clearly that their whole standpoint is one of abstract -subjectivity. - - - - -SECTION XVIII. - -EPICUREANISM. - - -The Epicurean school arose at Athens, almost contemporaneously with the -Porch, though perhaps a little earlier than this. Epicurus, its founder, -was born 342 B.C., six years after the death of Plato. Of his youth and -education little is known. In his thirty-sixth year he opened a -philosophical school at Athens, over which he presided till his death, -271 B.C. His disciples and adherents formed a social league, in which -they were united by the closest band of friendship, illustrating the -general condition of things in Greece after the time of Alexander, when -the social took the place of the decaying poetical life. Epicurus -himself compared his society to the Pythagorean fraternity, although the -community of goods, which forms an element in the latter, Epicurus -excludes, affirming that true friends can confide in one another. The -moral conduct of Epicurus has been repeatedly assailed but, according to -the testimony of the most reliable witnesses, his life was blameless in -every respect, and his personal character was estimable and amiable. -Moreover, it cannot be doubted that much of that, which is told by some, -of the offensive voluptuousness of the Epicurean band, should be -regarded as calumny. Epicurus was a voluminous writer, surpassing, in -this respect, even Aristotle, and exceeded by Chrysippus alone. To the -loss of his greater works he has himself contributed, by his practice of -composing summaries of his system, which he recommended his disciples to -commit to memory. These summaries have been for the most part preserved. - -The end which Epicurus proposed to himself in science is distinctly -revealed in his definition of philosophy. He calls it an activity which, -by means of conceptions and arguments, procures the happiness of life. -Its end is, therefore, with him essentially a practical one, and on this -account the object of his whole system is to produce a scheme of morals -which should teach us how we might inevitably attain a happy life. It is -true that the Epicureans adopted the usual division of philosophy into -logic, which they called canonics, physics, and ethics; but they -confined logic to the doctrine of the criterion of truth, and considered -it only as an instrument and introduction to physics, while they only -treated of physics as existing wholly for ethics, and being necessary in -order to free men from superstitious fear, and deliver them from the -power of fables and mythical fancies concerning nature, which might -hinder the attainment of happiness. We have therefore in Epicureanism -the three old parts of philosophy, but in a reversed order, since logic -and physics here stand as the handmaids of ethics. We shall confine -ourselves in our exposition to the latter, since the Epicurean canonics -and physics offer little scientific interest, and since the physics -especially is not only very incomplete and without any internal -connection, but rests entirely upon the atomic theory of Democritus. - -Epicurus, like Aristotle and the other philosophers of his day, placed -the highest good in happiness, or a happy life. More closely he makes -pleasure to be the principal constituent of happiness, and even calls it -the highest good. But Epicurus goes on to give a more accurate -determination of pleasure, and in this he differs essentially from his -predecessors, the Cyrenians. (_cf._ Sec. XIII. 3.) - -1. While with Aristippus the pleasure of the moment is made the end of -human efforts, Epicurus directs men to strive after a system of -pleasures which should insure an abiding course of happiness for the -whole life. _True_ pleasure is thus the object to be considered and -weighed. Many a pleasure should be despised because it will result in -pain, and many a pain should be rejoiced in because it would lead to a -greater pleasure. - -2. Since the sage will seek after the highest good, not simply for the -present but for his whole life, he will hold the pleasures and pains of -the soul, which like memory and hope stretch over the past and the -future, in greater esteem than those of the body, which relate only to -the present moment. The pleasure of the soul consists in the untroubled -tranquillity of the sage, who rests secure in the feeling of his inner -worth and his exaltation above the strokes of destiny. Thus Epicurus, -would say that it is better to be miserable but rational than to be -happy and irrational, and that the wise man might be happy though in -torture. He would even affirm, like a true follower of Aristotle, that -pleasure and happiness were most closely connected with virtue, that -virtue is in fact inseparable from true pleasure, and that there can be -no agreeable life without virtue, and no virtue without an agreeable -life. - -3. While other Hedonists would regard the most positive and intense -feeling of pleasure as the highest good, Epicurus, on the other hand, -fixed his eye on a happiness which should be abiding and for the whole -life. He would not seek the most exquisite enjoyments in order to attain -to a happy life, but he rather recommends one to be satisfied with -little, and to practise sobriety and temperance of life. He guards -himself against such a false application of his doctrine as would imply -that the pleasure of the debauchee were the highest good, and boasts -that with a little barley-bread and water he would rival Zeus in -happiness. He even expresses an aversion for all costly pleasures, not, -however, in themselves, but because of the evil consequences which they -entail. True, the Epicurean sage need not therefore live as a Cynic. He -will enjoy himself where he can without harm, and will even seek to -acquire means to live with dignity and ease. But though all these -enjoyments of life may properly belong to the sage, yet he _can_ deprive -himself of them without misery--though he _ought_ not to do so--since he -enjoys the truest and most essential pleasure in the calmness of his -soul and the tranquillity of his heart. In opposition to the positive -pleasure of some Hedonists, the theory of Epicurus expends itself in -negative conceptions, representing that freedom from pain is pleasure, -and that hence the activity of the sage should be prominently directed -to avoid that which is disagreeable. All that man does, says Epicurus, -is that he may neither suffer nor apprehend pain, and in another place -he remarks, that not to live is far from being an evil. Hence death, for -which men have the greatest terror, the wise man does not fear. For -while we live, death is not, and when death is, we are not; when it is -present we feel it not, for it is the end of all feeling, and that, -which by its presence cannot affect our happiness, ought not, when -thought of as a future, to trouble us. Here Epicurus must bear the -censure urged against him by the ancients, that he does not recognize -any positive end of life, and that the object after which his sage -should strive is a mere passionless state. - -The crown of Epicurus's view of the universe is his doctrine of the -gods, where he has carried over his ideal of happiness. To the gods -belong a human form, though without any fixed body or human wants. In -the void space they lead an undisturbed and changeless life, whose -happiness is incapable of increase. From the blessedness of the gods he -inferred that they had nothing to do with the management of our affairs, -for blessedness is repose, and on this account the gods neither take -trouble to themselves nor cause it to others. It may indeed be said that -these inactive gods of Epicurus, these indestructible and yet not fixed -forms, these bodies which are not bodies, have but an ill connection -with his general system, in which there is in fact no point to which his -doctrine of the gods can be fitly joined--but a strict scientific -connection is hardly the merit of this whole philosophy. - - - - -SECTION XIX. - -SCEPTICISM AND THE NEW ACADEMY. - - -This subjective direction already noticed was carried out to its -farthest extent by the Sceptics, who broke down completely the bridge -between subject and object, denying all objective truth, knowledge and -science, and wholly withdrawing the philosopher from every thing but -himself and his own subjective estimates. In this direction we may -distinguish between the old Scepticism, the new Academy, and the later -Scepticism. - -1. THE OLD SCEPTICISM.--_Pyrrho_ of Elis, who was perhaps a cotemporary -of Aristotle, was the head of the old Sceptics. He left no writings -behind him, and we are dependent for a knowledge of his opinions upon -his scholar and follower, Timon of Phlius. The tendency of these -sceptical philosophers, like that of the Stoics and Epicureans, was a -practical one, for philosophy, said they, ought to lead us to happiness. -But in order to live happily we must know how things are, and, -therefore, in what kind of a relation we stand to them. The first of -these questions the Sceptics answered by attempting to show that all -things, without exception, are indifferent as to truth and falsehood, -uncertain, and in nowise subject to man's judgment. Neither our senses -nor our opinions concerning any thing teach us any truth; to every -precept and to every position a contrary may be advanced, and hence the -contradictory views of men, and especially of the philosophies of the -schools respecting one and the same thing. All objective knowledge and -science being thus impossible, the true relation of the philosopher to -things consists in the entire suspension of judgment, and the -withholding of every positive assertion. In order to avoid every thing -like a positive assertion, the Sceptics had recourse to a variety of -artifices, and availed themselves of doubtful modes of expression, such -as _it is possible_; _it may be so_; _perhaps_; _I assert -nothing_,--cautiously subjoining to this last--_not even that I assert -nothing_. By this suspension of judgment the Sceptics thought they could -attain their practical end, happiness; for the abstinence from all -positive opinion is followed by a freedom from all mental disturbance, -as a substance is by a shadow. He who has embraced Scepticism lives -thenceforward tranquilly, without inquietude, without agitation, with an -equable state of mind, and, in fact, divested of his humanity. Pyrrho is -said to have originated the doctrine which lies at the basis of -sceptical apathy, that no difference exists between sickness and health, -or between life and death. The Sceptics, for the most part, derived the -material for their views from the previous investigations in the -dogmatic schools. But the grounds on which they rested were far from -being profound, and were for the most part either dialectic errors which -could easily be refuted, or mere subtleties. The use of the following -ten tropes is ascribed to the old Sceptics, though these were perhaps -not definitely brought out by either Pyrrho or Timon, but were probably -first collected by AEnesidemus, soon after the time of Cicero. The -withholding of all decisive judgment may rest; (1) upon the distinction -generally existing between individual living objects; (2) upon the -difference among men; (3) the different functions of the organs of -sense; (4) the circumstances under which objects appear; (5) the -relative positions, intervals, and places; (6) intermixtures; (7) the -quantities and modifications of the objects we perceive; (8) relations; -(9) the frequent or rare occurrence; (10) the different ways of life, -the varieties of customs and laws, the mythical representations and -dogmatic opinions of men. - -2. THE NEW ACADEMY.--Scepticism, in its conflict with the Stoics, as it -appeared in the Platonic school established by _Arcesilaus_ (316-241), -has a far greater significance than belongs to the performances of the -Pyrrhonists. In this school Scepticism sought its support by its great -respect for the writings and its transmission of the oral teachings of -Plato. Arcesilaus could neither have assumed nor maintained the chair of -instruction in the Academy, had he not carefully cherished and imparted -to his disciples the impression that his own view, respecting the -withholding of a decisive judgment, coincided essentially with that of -Socrates and of Plato, and if he had not also taught that he only -restored the genuine and original significance of Platonism, when he set -aside the dogmatic method of teaching. An immediate incitement to the -efforts of Arcesilaus is found in his opposition to the rigid dogmatic -system which had lately arisen in the Porch, and which claimed to be in -every respect an improvement upon Platonism. Hence, as Cicero remarks, -Arcesilaus directed all his sceptical and polemic attacks against Zeno, -the founder of Stoicism. He granted with his opponent that no -representation should form a part of undoubted knowledge, if it could -possibly have arisen through any other object than that from which it -actually sprung, but he would not admit that there might be a notion -which expressed so truly and accurately its own object, that it could -not have arisen from any other. Accordingly, Arcesilaus denied the -existence of a criterion which could certify to us the truth of our -knowledge. If there be any truth in our affirmations, said he, we cannot -be certain of it. In this sense he taught that one can know nothing, not -even that he does know nothing. But in moral matters, in choosing the -good and rejecting the evil, he taught that we should follow that which -is probable. - -Of the subsequent leaders in the new Academy, _Carneades_ (214-129) -alone need here be mentioned, whose whole philosophy, however, consists -almost exclusively in a polemic against Stoicism and in the attempt to -set up a criterion of truth. His positive performance is the attempt to -bring out a philosophical theory of probabilities. The later -Academicians fell back to an eclectic dogmaticism. - -3. THE LATER SCEPTICISM.--Once more we meet with a peculiar Scepticism at -the time when Grecian philosophy had wholly fallen to decay. To this -time belong _AEnesidemus_, who probably--though this cannot be affirmed -with certainty--lived but a little after Cicero; _Agrippa_, whose date is -also uncertain, though subsequent to AEnesidemus, and _Sextus -Empiricus_--_i. e._ a Grecian physician of the empiric sect, who probably -flourished in the first half of the third century of the Christian era. -These are the most significant names. Of these the last has the greatest -interest for us, from two writings which he left behind him (the -hypotyposes of Pyrrho in three books, and a treatise against the -mathematicians in nine books), which are sources of much historical -information. In these he has profusely collected every thing which the -Scepticism of the ancients knew how to advance against the certainty of -knowledge. - - - - -SECTION XX. - -THE ROMANS. - - -The Romans have taken no independent part in the progress of philosophy. -After Grecian philosophy and literature had begun to gain a foothold -among them, and especially after three distinguished representatives of -Attic culture and eloquence--Carneades the Academician, Critolaus the -Peripatetic, and Diogenes the Stoic--had appeared in Rome as envoys from -Athens; and after Greece, a few years later, had become a Roman -province, and thus outwardly in a close connection with Rome, almost all -the more significant systems of Grecian philosophy, especially the -Epicurean (Lucretius), and the Stoic (Seneca), flourished and found -adherents in Rome, though without gaining any real philosophical -progress. The Romish philosophizing is wholly eclectic, as is seen in -Cicero, the most important and influential philosophic writer among the -Romans. But the popular philosophy of this man and of the minds akin to -him cannot be strongly assailed, for, notwithstanding its want of -originality and logical sequence, it gave philosophy a broad -dissemination, and made it a means of universal culture. - - - - -SECTION XXI. - -NEW PLATONISM. - - -In New Platonism, the ancient mind made its last and almost despairing -attempt at a philosophy which should resolve the dualism between the -subjective and the objective. The attempt was made by taking on the one -side a subjective standpoint, like the other philosophies of the -post-Aristotelian time (_cf._ Sec. XVI 7); and on the other with the design -to bring out objective determinations concerning the highest conceptions -of metaphysics, and concerning the absolute; in other words, to sketch a -system of absolute philosophy. In this respect the effort was made to -copy the Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy, and the claim was set up -by the new system to be a revival of the original Platonism. On both -sides the new attempt formed the closing period of an ancient -philosophy. It represents the last struggle, but at the same time the -exhaustion of the ancient thinking and the dissolution of the old -philosophy. - -The first, and also the most important, representative of New Platonism, -is _Plotinus_. He was a pupil of Ammonius Saccas, who taught the -Platonic philosophy at Alexandria in the beginning of the third century, -though he left no writings behind him. Plotinus (A. D. 205-270) from his -fortieth year taught philosophy at Rome. His opinions are contained in a -course of hastily written and not closely connected treatises, which, -after his death, were collected and published in six enneads by -_Porphyry_ (who was born A. D. 233, and taught both philosophy and -eloquence at Rome), his most noted disciple. From Rome and Alexandria, -the New Platonism of Plotinus passed over in the fourth century to -Athens, where it established itself in the Academy. In the fourth -century, _Jamblichus_, a scholar of Porphyry, and in the fifth, Proclus, -(412-485), were prominently distinguished among the New Platonists. With -the triumph of Christianity and the consequent fall of heathenism, in -the course of the sixth century, even this last bloom of Grecian -philosophy faded away. - -The common characteristic of all the New Platonists is a tendency to -mysticism, theosophy, and theurgy. The majority of them gave themselves -up to magic and sorcery, and the most distinguished boasted that they -were the subjects of divine inspiration and illumination, able to look -into the future, and to work miracles. They professed to be hierophants -as much as philosophers, and exhibited the unmistakable tendency to -represent a Pagan copy of Christianity, which should be at the same time -a philosophy and a universal religion. In the following sketch of New -Platonism we follow mainly the track of Plotinus. - -1. ECSTASY AS A SUBJECTIVE STATE.--The result of the philosophical -strivings antecedent to New Platonism had been Scepticism; which, seeing -the impracticability of both the Stoic and Epicurean wisdom, had assumed -a totally negative relation to every positive and theoretical content. -But the end which Scepticism had actually gained was the opposite of -that for which it had striven. It had striven for the perfect apathy of -the sage, but it had gained only the necessity of incessantly opposing -every positive affirmation. Instead of the rest which they had sought, -they found rather an absolute unrest. This absolute unrest of the -consciousness striving after an absolute rest, begat immediately a -longing to be freed from this unrest, a longing after some content which -should be absolutely satisfying, and stripped of every sceptical -objection. This longing after an absolutely true, found its historical -expression in New Platonism. The subject sought to master and comprehend -the absolute; and this, neither by objective knowledge nor dialectic -mediation, but immediately, by an inner and mystical mounting up of the -subject in the form of an immediate beholding, or ecstasy. The knowledge -of the true, says Plotinus, is not gained by proof nor by any mediation; -it cannot be found when the objects known remain separate from the -subject knowing, but only when the distinction between knower and known -disappears; it is a beholding of the reason in itself, not in the sense -that we see the reason, but the reason beholds itself; in no other way -can knowledge come. If any one has attained to such a beholding, to such -a true unison with the divine, he will despise the pure thinking which -he otherwise loved, for this thinking was only a movement which -presupposed a difference between the perceiver and the perceived. This -mystical absorption into the Deity, or, the One, this resolving the self -into the absolute, is that which gives to New Platonism a character so -peculiarly distinct from the genuine Grecian systems of philosophy. - -2. THE COSMICAL PRINCIPLES.--The doctrine of the three cosmical -principles is most closely connected with the theory just named. To the -two cosmical principles already received, viz., the world-soul and the -world-reason, a third and higher one was added by the New Platonists. -For if the reason apprehends the true by means of thinking, and not -within itself alone; if, in order to grasp the absolute and behold the -divine, it must lose its own self-consciousness, and go out beyond -itself, then reason cannot be the highest principle, but there stands -above it that primal essence, with which it must be united if it will -behold the true. To this primal essence Plotinus gives different names, -as "the first," "the one," "the good," and "that which stands above -being" (being is with him but a conception, which, like the reason, may -be resolved into a higher ground, and which, united with the reason, -forms but the second step in the series of highest conceptions). In all -these names, Plotinus does not profess to have satisfactorily expressed -the essence of this primal one, but only to have given a representation -of it. In characterizing it still farther, he denies it all thinking and -willing, because it needs nothing and can desire nothing; it is not -energy, but above energy; life does not belong to it; neither being nor -essence nor any of the most general categories of being can be ascribed -to it; in short, it is that which can neither be expressed nor thought. -Plotinus has thoroughly striven to think of this first principle not as -first principle, _i. e._ not in its relation to that of which it is the -ground, but only in itself, as being wholly without reference either to -us or to any thing else. This pure abstraction, however, he could not -carry out. He sets himself to show how every thing else, and especially -the two other cosmical principles, could emanate from this first; but in -order to have a principle for his emanation theory, he was obliged to -consider the first in its relation to the second and as its producer. - -3. THE EMANATION THEORY OF THE NEW PLATONISTS.--Every emanation theory, -and hence also that of the New Platonists, considers the world as the -effluence of God, and gives to the emanation a greater or less degree of -perfection, according as it is nearer or more remote from its source. -They all have for their principle the totality of being, and represent a -progressively ascending relation in its several parts. Fire, says -Plotinus, emits heat, snow cold, fragrant bodies odors, and every -organic thing so far as it is perfect begets something like itself. In -the same way the all-perfect and the eternal, in the overflowing of his -perfection sends out from himself that which is also eternal, and after -him, the best, viz., the reason or world-intelligence, which is the -immediate reflection and image of the primal one. Plotinus abounds in -figures to show how the primal one need lose nothing nor become weakened -by this emanation of reason. Next to the original one, reason is the -most perfect. It contains in itself the ideal world, and the whole of -true and changeless being. Some notion may be formed of its exaltation -and glory by carefully beholding the sensible world in its greatness, -its beauty, and the order of its ceaseless motion, and then by rising to -contemplate its archetype in the pure and changeless being of the -intelligible world, and then by recognizing in intelligence the author -and finisher of all. In it there is neither past nor future, but only an -ever abiding present. It is, moreover, as incapable of division in space -as of change in time. It is the true eternity, which is only copied by -time. As reason flows from the primal one, so does the world-soul -eternally emanate from reason, though the latter incurs no change -thereby. The world-soul is the copy of reason, permeated by it, and -actualizing it in an outer world. It gives ideas externally to sensible -matter, which is the last and lowest step in the series of emanations -and in itself is undetermined, and has neither quality nor being. In -this way the visible universe is but the transcript of the world-soul, -which forms it out of matter, permeates and animates it, and carries it -forward in a circle. Here closes the series of emanations, and, as was -the aim of the theory, we have been carried in a constant current from -the highest to the lowest, from God to the mere image of true being, or -the sensible world. - -Individual souls, like the world-soul, are linked both to the higher and -the lower, to reason and the sensible; now bound with the latter and -sharing its destiny, and anon rising to their source in reason. Their -original and proper home was in the rational world, from whence they -have come down, each one in its proper time, into the corporeal; not, -however, wholly forsaking their ideal abode, but as a sunbeam touches at -the same time the sun and the earth, so are they found alike in the -world of reason and the world of sense. Our calling, therefore--and here -we come back to the point from which we started in our exhibition of New -Platonism--can only be to direct our senses and aspirations towards our -proper home, in the ideal world, and by asceticism and crucifying of the -flesh, to free our better self from its participation with the body. But -when our soul has once mounted up to the ideal world, that image of the -originally good and beautiful, it then attains the final goal of all its -longings and efforts, the immediate union with God, through the -enraptured beholding of the primal one in which it loses its -consciousness and becomes buried and absorbed. - -According to all this, the New Platonic philosophy would seem to be a -monism, and thus the most perfect development of ancient philosophy, in -so far as this had striven to carry back the sum of all being to one -ultimate ground. But as it attained its highest principle from which all -the rest was derived, by means of ecstasy, by a mystical -self-destruction of the individual person (_Ichheit_), by asceticism and -theurgy, and not by means of self-conscious thinking, nor by any natural -or rational way, it is seen that ancient philosophy, instead of becoming -perfected in New Platonism, only makes a despairing leap beyond itself -to its own self-destruction. - - - - -SECTION XXII. - -CHRISTIANITY AND SCHOLASTICISM. - - -1. THE CHRISTIAN IDEA.--The Grecian intellectual life at the time of its -fairest bloom, was characterized by the immediate sacrifice of the -subject to the object (nature, the state, &c.): the full breach between -the two, between spirit and nature, had not yet arrived; the subject had -not yet so far reflected upon himself that he could apprehend his own -absolute worth. This breach came in, with the decay of Grecian life, in -the time after Alexander the Great. As the objective world lost its -influence, the thinking consciousness turned back upon itself; but even -in this very process, the bridge between subject and object was broken -down. The self-consciousness had not yet become sufficiently absorbed in -itself to look upon the true, the divine, in any other light than as -separate from itself, and belonging to an opposite world; while a -feeling of pain, of unsatisfied desire, took the place of that fair -unity between spirit and nature which had been peculiar to the better -periods of the Grecian civil and artistic life. New Platonism, by its -overleaping speculation, and, practically, by its mortification of the -sense, made a last and despairing attempt to overcome this separation, -or to bury itself within it, by bringing the two sides forcibly -together. The attempt was in vain, and the old philosophy, totally -exhausted, came to its end. Dualism is therefore the rock on which it -split. This problem, thus left without a solution, Christianity took up. -It assumed for its principle the idea which the ancient thinking had not -known how to carry out, affirming that the separation between God and -man might be overcome, and that the human and the divine could be united -in one. The speculative fundamental idea of Christianity is, that God -has become incarnate, and this had its practical exhibition (for -Christianity was a practical religion) in the idea of the atonement and -the demand of the new birth, _i. e._ the positive purifying of the sense -from its corruptions, instead of holding it, as asceticism, in a merely -negative relation. - -From the introduction of Christianity, monism has been the character and -the fundamental tendency of the whole modern philosophy. In fact, the -new philosophy started from the very point at which the old had stood -still. The turning of the self-consciousness upon itself, which was the -standpoint of the post-Aristotelian speculations, forms in Descartes the -starting-point of the new philosophy, whose whole course has been the -reconciling of that opposition beyond which the old could not pass. - -2. SCHOLASTICISM.--It very early resulted that Christianity came in -contact with the cotemporaneous philosophy, especially with Platonism. -This arose first with the apologists of the second century, and the -fathers of the Alexandrian church. Subsequently, in the ninth century, -Scotus Erigena made an attempt to combine Christianity with New -Platonism, though it was not till the second half of the Middle Ages, -from the eleventh century, that there was developed any thing that might -be properly termed a Christian philosophy. This was the so-called -Scholasticism. - -The effort of Scholasticism was to mediate between the dogma of religion -and the reflecting self-consciousness; to reconcile faith and knowledge. -When the dogma passed over into the schools from the Church which had -given it utterance, and theology became a science of the universities, -the scientific interest asserted its rights, and undertook to bring the -dogma which had hitherto stood over against the self-consciousness as an -external power, into a closer relation to the thinking subject. A series -of attempts was now made to bring out the doctrines of the Church in the -form of scientific systems (the first complete dogmatic system was given -by _Peter Lombard_, who died 1164, in his four books of sentences, and -was voluminously commented upon by the later Scholastics), all starting -from the indisputable premise (beyond which scholastic thinking never -reached), that the faith of the church is absolute truth; but all guided -likewise by the interest to make this revealed truth intelligible, and -to show it to be rational. "_Credo ut intelligam_"--this expression of -_Anselm_, the beginner and founder of Scholasticism (he was born about -1034, and made Archbishop of Canterbury in 1093), was the watchword of -this whole direction. Scholasticism applied to the solution of its -problem the most remarkable logical acumen, and brought out systems of -doctrine like the Gothic cathedrals in their architecture. The extended -study of Aristotle, called _par eminence_ "the philosopher," whom many -of the most distinguished Scholastics wrote commentaries upon, and who -was greatly studied at the same period among the Arabians (_Avicenna_ -and _Averroes_), furnished their terminology and most of their points of -view. At the summit of Scholasticism we must place the two incontestably -greatest masters of the Scholastic art and method, _Thomas Aquinas_ -(Dominican, who died 1274) and _Duns Scotus_ (Franciscan, who died -1308), the founders of two schools, in which since their time the whole -Scholastic theology divides itself--the former exalting the understanding -(_intellectus_), and the latter the will (_voluntas_), as their highest -principle, both being driven into essentially differing directions by -this opposition of a theoretical and a practical principle. Even with -this began the downfall of Scholasticism; its highest point was also the -turning-point to its self-destruction. The rationality of the dogma, the -oneness of faith and knowledge, had been constantly their fundamental -premise; but this premise fell away, and the whole basis of their -metaphysics was given up in principle, the moment Duns Scotus placed the -problem of theology in the practical. When the practical and the -theoretical became divided, and still more when thought and being were -separated by Nominalism (_cf._ 3), philosophy broke loose from theology -and knowledge from faith; knowledge assumed its position above faith and -above authority (modern philosophy), and the religious consciousness -broke with the traditional dogma (the Reformation). - -3. NOMINALISM AND REALISM.--Hand in hand with the whole development of -Scholasticism, there was developed the opposition between Nominalism and -Realism, an opposition whose origin is to be found in the relation of -Scholasticism to the Platonic and Aristotelian philosophy. The -Nominalists were those who held that the conceptions of the universal -(the universalia) were simple names, _flatus vocis_, representations -without content and without reality. According to them there are no -universal conceptions, no species, no class; every thing which is, -exists only as separate in its pure individuality; there is, therefore, -no pure thinking, but only a representation and sensuous perception. The -Realists, on the other hand, taking pattern from Plato, held fast to the -objective reality of the universals (_universalia ante rem_). These -opposite directions appeared first between _Roscellinus_, who took the -side of Nominalism, and _Anselm_, who advocated the Realistic theory, -and it is seen from this time through the whole period of Scholasticism, -though from the age of _Abelard_ (born 1079) a middle view, which was -both Nominalistic and Realistic, held with some slight modifications the -prominent place (_universalia in re_). According to this view the -universal is only something thought and represented, though as such it -is not simply a product of the representing consciousness, but has also -its objective reality in objects themselves, from which it was argued we -could not abstract it if it were not essentially contained in them. This -identity of thought and being, is the fundamental premise on which the -whole dialectic course of the Scholastics rests. All their arguments are -founded on the claim, that that which has been syllogistically proved is -in reality the same as in logical thinking. If this premise is -overthrown, so falls with it the whole basis of Scholasticism; and there -remains nothing more for the thinker to do, who has gone astray in his -objectivity, but to fall back upon himself. This self-dissolution of -Scholasticism actually appears with _William of Occam_ (died 1347), the -most influential reviver of that Nominalism which had been so mighty in -the beginning of Scholasticism, but which now, more victorious against a -decaying than then against a rising form of culture, plucked away its -foundation from the framework of Scholastic dogmatism, and brought the -whole structure into inevitable ruin. - - - - -SECTION XXIII. - -TRANSITION TO THE MODERN PHILOSOPHY. - - -The emancipation of modern philosophy from the bondage of Scholasticism -was a gradual process. It first showed itself in a series of preparative -movements during the fifteenth century, and became perfected, -negatively, in the course of the sixteenth, and positively in the first -half of the seventeenth century. - -1. FALL OF SCHOLASTICISM.--The immediate ground of this changed direction -of the time, we have already seen in the inner decay of Scholasticism -itself. Just so soon as the fundamental premise on which the Scholastic -theology and method rested, the rationality of the dogma, was abandoned, -the whole structure, as already remarked, fell to inevitable ruin. The -conviction, directly opposed to the principle of Scholasticism, that -what might be true dogmatically, might be false, or, at least, incapable -of proof in the eye of the reason--a point of view from which _e. g._ the -Aristotelian _Pomponatius_ (1462-1530) treated the doctrines of the -future state, and in whose light _Vanini_ subsequently went over the -chief problems of philosophy--kept gaining ground, notwithstanding the -opposition of the Church, and even associated with itself the opinion -that reason and revelation could not be harmonized. The feeling became -prevalent that philosophy must be freed from its previous condition of -minority and servitude; a struggle after a greater independence of -philosophic investigation was awakened, and though no one yet ventured -to attack directly the doctrine of the Church, the effort was made to -shatter the confidence in the chief bulwark of Scholasticism, the -Aristotelian philosophy, or what at that period was regarded as such; -(especially in this connection _Peter Ramus_, (1515-1572) should be -mentioned, who fell in the massacre of St. Bartholomew). The authority -of the Church became more and more weakened in the faith of the people, -and the great principles of Scholasticism came to an end. - -2. THE RESULTS OF SCHOLASTICISM.--Notwithstanding all, Scholasticism was -not without its positively good results. Though standing wholly in the -service of the Church, it had, nevertheless, grown out of a scientific -impulse, and so naturally awakened a free spirit of inquiry and a sense -for knowledge. It made the objects of faith the objects of thought, it -raised men from the sphere of unconditional faith to the sphere of -doubt, of investigation and of knowledge, and by its very effort to -demonstrate the principles of theology it established, though against -its knowledge and design, the authority of reason. It thus introduced to -the world another principle than that of the old Church, the principle -of the thinking spirit, the self-consciousness of the reason, or at -least prepared the way for the victory of this principle. Even the -deformities and unfavorable side of Scholasticism, the many absurd -questions upon which the Scholastics divided, even their thousandfold -unnecessary and accidental distinctions, their inquisitiveness and -subtleties, all sprang from a rational principle, and grew out of a -spirit of investigation, which could only utter itself in this way under -the all powerful ecclesiastical spirit of the time. Only when it was -surpassed by the advancing spirit of the age, did Scholasticism, -falsifying its original meaning, make common cause and interest with the -old ecclesiasticism, and turned itself as the most violent opposer -against the improvements of the new period. - -3. THE REVIVAL OF LETTERS.--The revival of classic literature contributed -prominently to that change in the spirit of the age which marks the -beginning of the new epoch of philosophy. The study of the ancients, -especially of the Greeks, had almost wholly ceased in the course of the -Middle Ages; even the philosophy of Plato and Aristotle was known, for -the most part, only through Latin translations or secondary sources; no -one realized the spirit of classic life, and all sense for beauty of -form and elegant composition had passed away. The change was chiefly -brought about by means of the Greek scholars who fled from -Constantinople to Italy; the study of the ancients in the original -sources came up again; the newly discovered art of printing allowed the -classics to be widely circulated; the Medicis drew classic scholars to -their court; all this working for a far better understanding of the -ancient philosophy. _Besarion_ (died 1472) and _Ficinus_ (died 1499) -were prominent in this movement. The result was presently seen. The new -scholars contended against the stiff and uncouth manner in which the -sciences had hitherto been treated, new ideas began to circulate, and -there arose again the free, universal, thinking spirit of antiquity. In -Germany, also, classic studies found a fruitful soil. _Reuchlin_ (born -1454), _Melancthon_ and _Erasmus_, labored in this sense, and the -classic movement, hostile as it was to the Scholastic impulse, favored -most decidedly the growing tendencies to the Reformation. - -4. THE GERMAN REFORMATION.--All the elements of the new age, the struggle -against Scholasticism, the revival of letters and the more enlarged -culture thus secured, the striving after national independence, the -attempts of the state to free itself from the Church and the hierarchy, -and above all, the desire of the thinking self-consciousness for -autonomy, for freedom from the fetters of authority--all these elements -found their focus and point of union in the German Reformation. Though -having its root at first in practical, and religious, and national -interests, and expending itself mainly upon the Christian doctrine and -Church, yet was the Reformation in principle and in its true -consequences a rupture of the thinking spirit with authority, a -protesting against the fetters of the positive, a return of the mind -from its self-estrangement to itself. From that which was without, the -mind now came back to that which is within, and the purely human as -such, the individual heart and conscience, the subjective conviction, in -a word, the rights of the subject now began to be of worth. While -marriage had formerly been regarded, though not immoral, as yet inferior -to continence and celibacy, it appeared now as a divine institution, a -natural law ordained of God. While poverty had formerly been esteemed -higher than wealth, and the contemplative life of the monk was superior -to the manual labor of the layman supporting himself by his own toil, -yet now poverty ceased to be desirable in itself, and labor was no -longer despised. Ecclesiastical freedom took the place of spiritual -bondage; monasticism and the priesthood lost their power. In the same -way, on the side of knowledge the individual man came back to himself, -and threw off the restraints of authority. He was impressed with the -conviction that the whole process of redemption must be experienced -within himself, that his reconciliation to God and salvation was his own -concern, for which he needed no mediation of priests, and that he stood -in an immediate relation to God. He found his whole being in his faith, -in the depth of his feelings and convictions. - -Since thus Protestantism sprang from the essence of the same spirit in -which modern philosophy had its birth, the two have the closest relation -to each other, though of course there is a specific difference between -the religious and the scientific principle. Yet in their origin, both -kinds of Protestantism, that of religion and that of thought, are one -and the same, and in their progress they have also gone hand in hand -together. For religion, reduced to its simple elements, will be found to -have its source, like philosophy, in the self-knowledge of the reason. - -5. THE ADVANCEMENT OF THE NATURAL SCIENCES.--To all these phenomena, -which should be regarded both as causes and as symptoms of the -intellectual revolution of this period, we must add yet another, which -essentially facilitated and gave a positive assistance to the freedom of -the mind from the fetters of authority--the starting up of the natural -sciences and the inductive method of examining nature. This epoch was a -period of the most fruitful and influential discoveries in nature. The -discovery of America and the passage to the East Indies had already -widened the circle of view, but still greater revolutions are connected -with the name of a _Copernicus_ (died 1543), _Kepler_ (died 1630), and -_Galileo_ (died 1642), revolutions which could not remain, without an -influence upon the whole mode of thinking of that age, and which -contributed prominently to break the faith in the prevailing -ecclesiastical authority. Scholasticism had turned away from nature and -the phenomenal world, and, blind towards that which lay before the very -eyes, had spent itself in a dreamy intellectuality; but now nature rose -again in honor; her glory and exaltation, her infinite diversity and -fulness of life became again the immediate objects of observation; to -investigate nature became an essential object of philosophy, and -scientific empiricism was thus regarded as a universal and essential -concern of the thinking man. From this time the natural sciences date -their historical importance, for only from this time have they had an -uninterrupted history. The results of this new intellectual movement can -be readily estimated. Such a scientific investigation of nature not only -destroyed a series of traditional errors and prejudices, but, what was -of greater importance, it directed the intellectual interest towards -that which is real and actual, it nourished and protected the -self-thinking and feeling of self-dependence, the spirit of inquiry and -proof. The standpoint of observation and experiment presupposes an -independent self-consciousness of the individual, a breaking loose from -authority--in a word, scepticism, with which, in fact, the founders of -modern philosophy, _Bacon_ and _Descartes_, began; the former by -conditioning the knowledge of nature upon the removal of all prejudice -and every preconceived opinion, and the latter by demanding that -philosophy should be begun with universal doubt. No wonder that a bitter -struggle should soon break out between the natural sciences and -ecclesiastical orthodoxy, which could only result in breaking the power -of the latter. - -6. BACON OF VERULAM.--Francis of Verulam was born in 1561, and was Lord -High Chancellor of England and keeper of the king's seal under James I. -From these offices he was subsequently expelled, and died in 1626, with -a character which has not been without reproach. He took as his -principle the inductive method, which he directed expressly against -Scholasticism and the ruling scientific method. On this account he is -frequently placed at the head of modern philosophy. - -The sciences, says Bacon, have hitherto been in a most sad condition. -Philosophy, wasted in empty and fruitless logomachies, has failed during -so many centuries to bring out a single work or experiment of actual -benefit to human life. Logic hitherto has served more to the -establishment of error than to the investigation of truth. Whence all -this? Why this penury of the sciences? Simply because they have broken -away from their root in nature and experience. The blame of this is -chargeable to many sources; first, the old and rooted prejudice that the -human mind loses somewhat of its dignity when it busies itself much and -continuously with experiments and material things; next, superstition -and a blind religious zeal, which has been the most irreconcilable -opposer to natural philosophy; again, the exclusive attention paid to -morals and politics by the Romans, and since the Christian era to -theology by every acute mind; still farther, the great authority which -certain philosophers have professed, and the great reverence given, to -antiquity; and in fine, a want of courage and a despair of overcoming -the many and great difficulties which lie in the way of the -investigation of nature. All these causes have contributed to keep down -the sciences. Hence they must now be renewed, and regenerated, and -reformed in their most fundamental principles; there must now be found a -new basis of knowledge and new principles of science. This radical -reformation of the sciences depends upon two conditions, objectively -upon the referring of science to experience and the philosophy of -nature, and subjectively upon the purifying of the sense and the -intellect from all abstract theories and traditional prejudices. Both -conditions furnish the correct method of natural science, which is -nothing other than the method of induction. Upon a true induction -depends all the soundness of the sciences. - -In these propositions the Baconian philosophy is contained. The -historical significance of its founder is, therefore, in general -this,--that he directed the attention and reflection of his -contemporaries again upon the given actuality, upon nature; that he -affirmed the necessity of experience, which had been formerly only a -matter of accident, and made it as in and for itself an object of -thought. His merit consists in having brought up the principle of -scientific empiricism, and only in this. Strictly speaking, we can allow -no _content_ to the Baconian philosophy, although (in his treatise _de -augmentis scientiarum_) he has attempted a systematic encyclopedia of -the sciences according to a new principle of classification, through -which he has scattered an abundance of fine and fruitful observations, -which are still used as apothegms. - -7. THE ITALIAN PHILOSOPHERS OF THE TRANSITION EPOCH.--Besides Bacon, -other phenomena must be noticed which have prepared and introduced the -new age of philosophy. First among these is a list of Italian -philosophers, from the second half of the sixteenth and the first half -of the seventeenth century. These philosophers are connected in a -twofold manner with the movements already sketched of this transition -period, first by an enthusiasm for nature which among them all partook -in a greater or less degree of pantheism (Vanini _e. g._ gave to one of -his writings the title "concerning the wonderful secrets of nature, the -queen and goddess of mortals"), and second, by their connection with the -systems of ancient philosophy. The best known of these philosophers are -the following: _Cardanus_ (1501-1575), _Campanella_ (1568-1639), -_Giordano Bruno_ (--1600), _Vanini_ (1586-1619.) They were all men of a -passionate, enthusiastic and impetuous nature, unsteady and wild in -character, restless and adventurous in life, men who were inspired by an -eager impulse towards knowledge, but who were carried away by great -fantasy, wildness of imagination, and a seeking after secret -astrological and geomantic knowledge. For these reasons they also passed -away, leaving no fruitful result behind. They were all persecuted by the -hierarchy, and two of them (Bruno and Vanini) ended their lives at the -stake. In their whole historical appearance they are like the eruption -of a volcano, and are to be regarded more as forerunners and announcers -than as beginners and founders of the new age of philosophy. The most -important among them is _Giordano Bruno_. He reviewed the old idea of -the Stoics, that the world is a living being, and that a world-soul -penetrates it all. The content of his general thought is the profoundest -enthusiasm for nature, and the plastic reason which is present in it. -The reason is, according to him, the inner artist who shapes the matter -and manifests himself in the forms of the universe. From the heart of -the root or the germ he sends out the lobes, and from these again he -evolves the shoots, and from the shoots the branches, until bud, and -leaf, and blossom are brought forth. Every thing is arranged, adjusted, -and perfected within. Thus the universal reason calls back from within -the sap out of the fruits and flowers to the branches again, &c. The -universe thus is an infinite living thing, in which every thing lives -and moves after the most manifold way. - -The relation of the reason to matter, Bruno determines wholly in the -Aristotelian manner; both stand related to each other as form and -matter, as actuality and potentiality, neither is without the other; the -form is the inner impelling might of matter, and matter, as the -unlimited possibility, as the capability for an infinite diversity of -form, is the mother of all forms. The other side of Bruno's -philosophizing, his elaboration of the topics of Lullus, which occupies -the greater part of his writings, has little philosophic interest, and -we therefore pass it by. - -8. JACOB BOEHME.--As Bacon among the English and Bruno among the -Italians, so _Jacob Boehme_ is the index among the Germans of this -transition period. Each one of these three indicates it in a way -peculiar to his own nationality; Bacon as the herald of empiricism, -Bruno as the representative of a poetic pantheism, and Boehme as the -father of the theosophic mysticism. If we regarded alone the -profoundness of his principle, Boehme should hold a much later place in -the history of philosophy, but if we looked chiefly at the imperfect -form of his philosophizing, his rank would be assigned to the mystics of -the Middle Ages, while chronologically we must associate him with the -German Reformation and the protestant elements that were nourished at -that time. His true position is among the forerunners and prophets of -the new age. - -Jacob Boehme was born in 1575, in old Seidenburg, a village of upper -Lusace, not far from Goerlitz. His parents were poor peasants. In his -boyhood be took care of the cattle, and in his youth, after he had -acquired the rudiments of reading and writing in a village school, he -was sent to Goerlitz to learn the shoe-maker's art. He finished his -apprenticeship and settled down at Goerlitz in 1594 as master of his -trade. Even in his youth he had received illuminations or mysterious -revealings, which were subsequently repeated when his soul, striving for -the truth, had become profoundly agitated by the religious conflicts of -the age. Besides the Bible, the only books which Boehme read were some -mystical writings of a theosophic and alchymistic content, _e. g._ those -of Paracelsus. His entire want of culture is seen as soon as he -undertakes to write down his thoughts, or, as he calls them, his -illuminations. Hence the imperious struggle of the thought with the -expression, which, however, not unfrequently rises to a dialectical -acuteness and a poetic beauty. His first treatise, Aurora, composed in -the year 1612, brought Boehme into trouble with the chief pastor in -Goerlitz, Gregorious Richter, who publicly condemned the book from the -pulpit, and even ridiculed the person of its author. The writing of -books was prohibited him by a magistrate, a prohibition which Boehme -observed for many years, till at length the command of the spirit was -too mighty within him, and he took up again his literary labors. Boehme -was a plain, quiet, modest and gentle man. He died in 1624. - -To give an exhibition of his theosophy in a few words is very difficult, -since Boehme, instead of clothing his thoughts in a logical form, -dressed them only in pictures of the sense and obscure analogies, and -often availed himself of the most arbitrary and singular modes of -expression. A twilight reigns in his writings, as in a Gothic cathedral -where the light falls through variegated windows. Hence the magic effect -which he has made upon many hearts. The chief thought of his -philosophizing is this, viz., that the distinguishing of the self from -the not-self is the essential determination of spirit, and hence of God -so far as God is to be apprehended as spirit. God, according to Boehme, -is living spirit only at the time and in the degree in which he -conceives the distinction within himself from himself, and is in this -distinction object and consciousness. The distinction of God in himself -is the only source of his and of all actuosity and spontaneity, the -spring and fountain of that self-active life which produces -consciousness out of itself. Boehme is inexhaustible in images by which -this negativity in God, his self-distinguishing and self-renunciation to -the world, may be made conceivable. The great expansion without end, he -says, needs limitation and a compass in which it may manifest itself, -for in expansion without limit there could be no manifestation, there -must be a contraction and an enclosing, in order that a manifestation -may arise. See, he says in another place, if the will were only of one -kind, then would the soul have only one quality, and were an immovable -thing, which would always lie still and never do any thing farther than -one thing; in this there could be no joy, as also no art nor science of -other things, and no wisdom; every thing would be a nothing, and there -would be neither heart nor will for any thing, for there would be only -the single. Hence it cannot be said that the whole God is in one will -and essence, there is a distinction. Nothing can ever become manifest to -itself without resistance, for if it has nothing resisting, it expends -itself and never comes to itself again; but if it does not come to -itself again except in that from which it has originally sprung, it thus -knows nothing of its original condition. The above thought Boehme -expresses when he says in his _Questionibus Theosophicis_; the reader -should know that in yea and nay all things consist, whether divine, -devilish, earthly, or whatever may be named. The one as the yea, is -simple energy and love, and is the truth of God and God himself. But -this were inconceivable, and there were neither delight, nor importance, -nor sensibility, without the nay. The nay is thrown in the way of the -yea, or of truth, in order that the truth may be manifest and something, -in which there may be a contrarium, where eternal love may work and -become sensitive and willing. There is nothing in the one which is an -occasion for willing until the one becomes duplicated, and so there can -be no sensation in unity, but only in duality. In brief, according to -Boehme, neither knowledge nor consciousness is possible, without -distinction, without opposition, without duplication; a thing becomes -clear and an object of consciousness only through something else, -through its own opposition identical with its own being. It was very -natural to connect this thought of a unity distinguishing itself in -itself, with the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, as Boehme has, in -fact, repeatedly done when treating of the Divine life and its process -of duplication. Schelling afterwards took up these ideas of Boehme and -philosophically elaborated them. - -If we should assign to the theosophy of Boehme a position in the -development of later philosophy corresponding to the inner content of -its principle, it would most properly be placed as a complement to the -system of _Spinoza_. If Spinoza taught the flowing back of all the -finite into the eternal one, Boehme, on the other hand, shows the -procession of the finite from the eternal one, and the inner necessity -of this procession, since the being of this one would be rather a -not-being without such a self-duplication. Compared with Descartes, -Boehme has at least more profoundly apprehended the conception of -self-consciousness and the relation of the finite to God. But his -historical position in other respects is far too isolated and -exceptional, and his mode of statement far too impure, to warrant us in -incorporating him anywhere in a series of systems developed continuously -and in a genetic connection. - - - - -SECTION XXIV. - -DESCARTES. - - -The beginner and founder of modern philosophy is _Descartes_. While he, -like the men of the transition epoch just noticed, broke loose entirely -from the previous philosophizing, and began his work wholly _de novo_, -yet he did not content himself, like Bacon, with merely bringing out a -new method, or like Boehme and his contemporaries among the Italians, -with affirming philosophical views without a methodical ground. He went -further than any of these, and making his standpoint one of universal -doubt, he affirms a new, positive, and pregnant philosophical principle, -from which he attempted logically to deduce the chief points of his -system. The character and novelty of his principle makes him the -beginner, and its inner fruitfulness the founder, of modern philosophy. - -Rene Descartes (_Renatus Cartesius_) was born in 1596, at La Haye in -Torraine. Possessing an independent property, he volunteered as a -soldier in his twenty-first year, and served in the wars with the Dutch, -the Bavarians, and the Imperialists. After this he travelled a good -deal, and then abode a considerable time in Paris. In 1629 he left his -native land, and betook himself to Holland, that he might there, -undisturbed and unknown, devote himself to philosophy, and elaborate his -scientific ideas. He spent twenty years in Holland, enduring much -vexatious treatment from fanatical theologians, till in 1649 he accepted -an invitation from Queen Christina of Sweden, to visit Stockholm, where -he died in the following year. - -The chief content of the Cartesian system may be seen condensed in the -following epitome. - -1. If science would have any thing fixed and abiding, it must begin with -the primal ground of things; every presupposition which we may have -cherished from infancy must be abandoned; in a word, we must doubt at -every point to which the least uncertainty is attached. We must -therefore doubt not only the existence of the objects of sense, since -the senses so frequently deceive, but also the truths of mathematics and -geometry--for, however evident the proposition may appear that two and -three make five, or that the square has four sides, yet we cannot know -but what God may have designedly formed us for erroneous judgments. It -is therefore advisable to doubt every thing, in fact to deny every -thing, to posit every thing as false. - -2. But though we posit every thing as false to which the slightest doubt -may be attached, yet we cannot deny one thing, viz., the truth that we, -who so think, do exist. But rather from the very fact that I posit every -thing as false, that I doubt every thing, is it manifest that I, the -doubter, exist. Hence the proposition: I think, therefore I am (_cogito -ergo sum_), is the first and most certain position which offers itself -to every one attempting to philosophize. Upon this the most certain of -all propositions, the certainty of all other knowledge depends. The -objection of _Gassendi_ that the truth of existence follows from any -other activity of man as well as from thinking, that I might just as -well say: I go to walk, therefore I exist,--has no weight; for, of all my -actions, I can be absolutely certain only of my thinking. - -3. From the proposition I think, therefore, I am, the whole nature of -the mind may be determined. When we examine who we are who hold every -thing to be false that is distinct from ourselves, we see clearly that -neither extension nor figure, nor any thing which can be predicated of -body, but only thought, belongs to our nature. I am therefore only a -thinking being, _i. e._ mind, soul, intelligence, reason. Thought is my -substance. Mind can therefore be apprehended clearly and completely for -itself alone, without any of those attributes which belong to body. Its -conception contains nothing of that which belongs to the conception of -body. It is therefore impossible to apprehend it through any sensuous -representation, or to make an image of it: it apprehends itself only -through the pure intelligence. - -4. From the proposition _cogito ergo sum_, follows still farther the -universal rule of all certainty. I am certain that I am a thinking -being, what now is involved in the fact that I am certain of any thing? -Whence comes this certainty? From no other source than the knowledge -that this first proposition contains a clear conception of that which I -affirm. I know of a certainty that I am, and I know any thing else only -when I know it as certainly as I know that I am. Hence I may regard it -as a universal rule, that every thing is true which I know clearly and -determinately. - -5. This rule, however, is only a principle of certainty, not of -knowledge and of truth. We apply it therefore to our thoughts or ideas, -in order to discover what is objectively true. But our ideas are partly -innate, partly acquired, and partly self-originated. Among those of the -first class we find the idea of a God. The question arises, whence have -we this idea? Manifestly not from ourselves; this idea could only be -implanted within us by a being who has the fulness of all perfection in -himself, _i. e._ only by an actually existing God. If I ask now the -question, whence have I the faculty to conceive of a nature more perfect -than my own? the answer must ever come, that I have it only from him -whose nature is actually more perfect. All the attributes of God, the -more I contemplate them, show that their idea could not have originated -with myself alone. For though there might be in me the idea of substance -because I am a substance, yet I could not of myself have the idea of an -infinite substance, since I am finite; such an idea could only be given -me through a substance actually infinite. Moreover, we must not think -that the conception of the infinite is to be gained through abstraction -and negation, as we might gain darkness through the negation of light; -but I perceive, rather, that the infinite contains more reality than the -finite, and that, therefore, the conception of the infinite must be -correspondingly antecedent in me to that of the finite. Since then I -have a clear and determined idea of the infinite substance, and since -this has a greater objective reality than every other, so is there no -other which I have so little reason to doubt. But now since I am certain -that the idea of God has come to me from God himself, it only remains -for me to examine the way in which I have received it from God. I have -never derived it directly nor indirectly from the sense, for ideas -through the sense arise only by affecting the external organs of sense; -neither have I devised it, for I can neither add to it nor diminish it -in any respect,--it must, therefore, be innate as the idea of myself is -innate. Hence the first proof we can assign for the being of a God is -the fact that we find the idea of a God within us, and that we must have -a cause for its being. Again, the being of a God may be concluded from -my own imperfection, and especially from the knowledge of my -imperfection. For since I know that there is a perfection which is -wanting in me, it follows that there must exist a being who is more -perfect than I, on whom I depend and from whom I receive all I -possess.--But the best and most evident proof for the being of a God is, -in fine, that which is gained from the conception of a God. The mind -among all its different ideas singles out the chiefest of all, that of -the most perfect being, and perceives that this has not only the -possibility of existence, _i. e._ accidental existence like all other -ideas, but that it possesses necessary existence in itself. And as the -mind knows that in every triangle its three angles are equal to two -right angles, because this is involved in the very idea of a triangle, -so does the mind necessarily infer that necessary existence belongs to -the conception of the most perfect being, and that, therefore, the most -perfect being actually exists. No other idea which the mind finds within -itself contains necessary existence, but from the idea of the highest -being existence cannot be separated without contradiction. It is only -our prejudices which keep us from seeing this. Since we are accustomed -in every thing to separate its conception from its existence, and since -we often make ideas arbitrarily, it readily happens, that when we -contemplate the highest being we are in doubt whether its idea may not -be one also arbitrarily devised, or at least one in whose conception -existence does not lie.--This proof is essentially different from that of -Thomas (Anselm of Canterbury). His argument was as follows: "If we -understand what is indicated by the word GOD, it is all that can be -conceived of greatness; but now there is actually and in thought more -belonging to him than the word represents, and therefore God exists not -only in word (or representation), but in fact." Here the defect in the -syllogism is manifest, for from the premise it could only be concluded -that God must therefore be _represented_ as existing in fact, while his -actual existence would not follow. My proof on the other hand is -this,--we may predicate of a thing what we clearly see belongs to its -true and changeless nature, or to its essence, or to its form. But now -after we had examined what God is, we found existence to belong to his -true and changeless nature, and therefore may we properly predicate -existence of God. Necessary existence is contained in the idea of the -most perfect being, not by a fiction of our understanding but because -existence belongs to his eternal and changeless nature. - -6. The result just found--the existence of God--is of the highest -consequence. Before attaining this we were obliged to doubt every thing, -and give up even every certainty, for we did not know but that it -belonged to the nature of the human mind to err, but that God had -created us for error. But so soon as we look at the necessary attributes -of God in the innate idea of him, so soon as we know that he is true, it -would be a contradiction to suppose that he would deceive us, or that he -could have made us to err; for though an ability to deceive might prove -his skill, a willingness to deceive would only demonstrate his frailty. -Our reason, therefore, can never apprehend an object which would not be -true so far as the reason apprehended it, _i. e._ so far as it is -clearly known. For God might justly be styled a deceiver if he had given -us a reason so perverted as to hold the false for the true. And thus -every absolute doubt with which we began is dispelled. From the being of -God we derive every certainty. For every sure knowledge it is only -necessary that we have clearly known a thing, and are also certain of -the existence of a God, who would not deceive. - -7. From the true idea of God follow the principles of a philosophy of -nature or the doctrine of the two substances. Substance is that which so -exists that it needs nothing else for its existence. In this (highest) -sense God is the only substance. God, as the infinite substance, has his -ground in himself, is the cause of himself. The two created substances, -on the other hand, the thinking and the corporeal substance, mind and -matter, are substances only in a broader sense of the word; they may be -apprehended under the common conception that they are things which need -only the co-operation of God for their existence. Each of these two -substances has an attribute which constitutes its nature and its -essence, and to which all its other determinations may be referred. The -attribute and essence of matter is extension, that of mind, thought. For -every thing else which can be predicated of body presupposes extension, -and is only a mode of extension, as every thing we can find in mind is -only a modification of thought. A substance to which thought immediately -belongs is called mind, and a substance, whose immediate substratum is -extension, is called body. Since thought and extension are distinct from -each other, and since mind cannot only be known without the attributes -of the body, but is in itself the negation of those attributes, we may -say that the essence of these substances is in their reciprocal -negation. Mind and body are wholly distinct, and have nothing in common. - -8. We pass by the physics of Descartes, which has only a subordinate -philosophical interest, and notice next his views of anthropology. From -this dualistic relation between mind and matter, there follows a -dualistic relation between soul and body. If matter is essentially -extension, and mind essentially thought, and if the two have nothing in -common, then the union of soul and body can be conceived only as a -mechanical one. The body is to be regarded as an artistic automaton, -which God has made, as a statue or machine formed by God from the earth. -Within this body the soul dwells, closely but not internally connected -with it. The union of the two is only a powerful bringing of the two -together, since each is not only an independent factor, but is -essentially distinct from and even opposed to the other. The body by -itself is a machine fully prepared, in which nothing is changed by the -entrance of the thinking soul, except that through it certain motions -are secured: the wheel-work of the machine remains as it was. It is only -thought which distinguishes this machine from every other; hence, -therefore, brutes which are not self-conscious nor thinking, must be -ranked with all other machines. From this standpoint arose especially -the question concerning the seat of the soul. If body and soul are -independent substances, each essentially opposed to the other, they -cannot interpenetrate each other, but can touch only at one point when -they are powerfully brought together. This point where the soul has its -seat, is, according to Descartes, not the whole brain but the pineal -gland, a little kernel in the middle of the brain. The proof for this -claim, that the pineal gland is the only place where the soul -immediately exhibits its energy, is found in the circumstance that all -other parts of the brain are twofold, which should not be in an organ -where the soul has its seat, else objects would appear double. There is, -therefore, no other place in the body where impressions can be so well -united as in this gland. The pineal gland is, therefore, the chief seat -of the soul, and the place where all our thoughts are formed. - -We have thus developed the fundamental thoughts of the Cartesian system, -and will now recapitulate in a few words the features characteristic of -its standpoint and historic position. Descartes was the founder of a new -epoch in philosophy, _first_, from his postulate of universal freedom -from all preconceptions. His protesting against every thing which is not -posited by the thought, against taking any thing for granted in respect -of the truth, has remained from that time onward the fundamental -principle of the new age. _Secondly._ Descartes has brought out the -principle of self-consciousness (the mind or the thinking substance is -regarded by him as an individual self, a particular Ego)--a new -principle, unknown in this view to the ancients. _Thirdly._ Descartes -has shown the opposition between being and thought, existence and -consciousness, and the mediation of this opposition, which has been the -problem of the whole modern philosophy, he first affirmed as the true -philosophical problem. But with these ideas, which make an epoch in the -history of philosophy, there are at the same time connected the defects -of the Cartesian philosophizing. _First._ Descartes gained the content -of his system, namely his three substances, empirically. True, the -system which begins with a protestation against all existence would seem -to take nothing for granted, but to derive every thing from the -thinking. But in fact this protesting is not thoroughly carried out. -That which seems to be cast aside is afterwards, when the principle of -certainty is gained, taken up again unchanged. And so it happens that -Descartes finds at hand not only the idea of God, but his two substances -as something _immediately given_. True, in order to reach them, he -abstracts every thing which lies immediately before him, but in the end -the two substances are seen as that which remains when all else is -abstracted. They are received _empirically_. The _second_ defect is, -that Descartes separates so wholly from each other the two sides of the -opposition between thought and being. He posits both as "substances," -_i. e._ as powers, which reciprocally exclude and negate each other. The -essence of matter according to him consists _only_ in extension, _i. e._ -in the pure being _extra se_ (_Aussersichsein_), and that of mind _only_ -in thought, _i. e._ in the pure being _in se_ (_Insichsein_.) The two -stand over against each other as centrifugal and centripetal. But with -this apprehension of mind and matter, an inner mediation of the two is -an impossibility; there must be a powerful act of creation, there must -be the divine assistance in order that the two sides may ever come -together, and be united as they are in man. Nevertheless Descartes -demands and attempts such a mediation of the two sides. But the -impossibility of truly overcoming the dualism of his standpoint is the -_third_, and the chief defect of his system. In the proposition "I -think, therefore I am," or "I am thinking," the two sides, being and -thought, are indeed connected together, but only that they may become -fixed independently in respect of each other. If the question is asked, -how does the Ego stand related to the extended? the answer can only be: -by thinking, _i. e._ negatively, by excluding it. The idea of God, -therefore, is all that remains for the mediation of these two sides. The -two substances are created by God, and through the divine will may be -bound together; through the idea of God, the Ego attains the certainty -that the extended exists. God is therefore in a certain degree a _Deus -ex machina_, necessary in order to mediate the conflict of the Ego with -the extended. It is obvious how external such a mediation is. - -This defect of the Cartesian system operated as an impelling motive to -those which succeeded. - - - - -SECTION XXV. - -GEULINCX AND MALEBRANCHE. - - -1. Mind and matter, consciousness and existence, Descartes had fixed in -the farthest separation from each other. Both, with him, are substances, -independent powers, reciprocally excluding oppositions. Mind (_i. e._ in -his view the simple self, the Ego) he regarded as essentially the -abstraction from the sensuous, the distinguishing itself from matter and -the separating of matter from itself; matter was essentially the -complete opposition to thought. If the relation of these two powers be -as has been given, then the question arises, how can there ever be a -filiation (_Rapport_) between them? How, on the one hand, can the -affections of the body work upon the soul, and on the other hand, how -can the volition of the soul direct the body, if the two are absolutely -distinct and opposed to each other? At this point, _Arnold Geulincx_ (a -disciple of Descartes, born at Antwerp 1625, and died as professor of -philosophy at Leyden 1669) took up the Cartesian system, and endeavored -to give it a greater logical perfection. According to Geulincx neither -the soul works immediately upon the body, nor the body immediately upon -the soul. Certainly not the former: for though _I_ can determine and -move my body in many respects arbitrarily, yet _I_ am not the cause of -this movement; for I know not how it happens, I know not in what manner -motion is communicated from my brain to the different parts of my body, -and it is impossible that I should do that in respect of which I cannot -see how it is done. But if I cannot produce motion in my body, much less -can I do this outside of my body. I am therefore simply a contemplator -of the world; the only act which is peculiarly mine is contemplation. -But even this contemplation arises in a singular manner. For if we ask -how we obtain our observations of the external world, we find it -impossible that the external world should directly give them to us. For -however much we may say that, _e. g._ in the act of seeing, the external -objects produce an image in my eye or an impression in my brain as in -wax, yet this impression or picture is after all only something -corporeal or material, and cannot therefore come into my mind, which is -absolutely distinct from every thing material. There remains, therefore, -only that we seek the mediation of the two sides in God. It is God alone -who can unite the outer with the inner, and the inner with the outer; -who can make the outer phenomena to become inner representations or -notions of the mind; who can thus bring the world within the mind's -observation, and the inner determinations of the will outward into deed. -Hence every working, every act which unites the outer and inner, which -brings the mind and the world into connection, is neither a working of -the mind nor of the world, but only an immediate working of God. The -movement of my limbs does not follow from my will, but only because it -is the will of God that these movements should follow when I will. My -will is an _occasion_ by which God moves my body--an affection of my body -is an _occasion_ by which God brings within me a representation of the -external world: the one is only the occasional cause of the other (hence -the name occasionalism). My will, however, does not move God to move my -limbs, but he who has imparted motion to matter and given it its laws, -created also my will, and has so connected together the most diverse -things, the movement of matter and the arbitrium of my will, that when -my will puts forth a volition, such a motion follows as it wills, and -the motion follows the volition without any interaction or physical -influence exerted by the one upon the other. But just as it is with two -clocks which go exactly alike, the one striking precisely as the other, -their harmony is not the result of any reciprocal interacting, but -follows because both have been fashioned and directed alike,--so is it -with the movements of the body and the will, they harmonize only through -that exalted artist who has in this ineffable way connected them -together. We see from this that Geulincx has carried to its limit the -dualistic basis of Descartes. While Descartes called the union of mind -and matter a conjunction through power, Geulincx named it a miracle. -There is consequently in this view no immanent, but only a transcendent -mediation possible. - -2. Closely connected with this view of Geulincx, and at the same time a -real consequence and a wider development of the Cartesian -philosophizing, is the philosophic standpoint of _Nicolas Malebranche_. -He was born at Paris in 1638, chosen a member of the "_Congregation de -l'oratoire_" in his twenty-second year, won over to philosophy through -the writings of Descartes, and died, after numerous feuds with -theological opposers, in 1715. - -Malebranche started with the Cartesian view of the relation between mind -and matter. Both are strictly distinct from each other, and in their -essence opposed. How now does the mind, (_i. e._ the Ego) gain a -knowledge of the external world and have ideas of corporeal things? For -it comes to know things only by means of ideas,--not through itself, not -immediately. Now the mind can neither gain these ideas from itself, nor -from the things themselves. Not from itself, for it is absolutely -opposed to the bodily world, and hence has no capacity to idealize, to -spiritualize material things, though they must become spiritualized -before they can be introduced to the mind; in a word, the mind, which in -relation to the material world is only an opposition, has no power to -destroy this opposition. Just as little has the mind derived these ideas -from things: for matter is not visible through itself, but rather as -antithetic to mind is it that which is absolutely unintelligible, and -which cannot be idealized, that which is absolutely without light and -clearness.--It only remains, therefore, that the mind beholds things in a -third that stands above the opposition of the two, viz., God. God, as -the absolute substance, is the absolute ideality, the infinite power to -spiritualize all things. Material things have no real opposition for -God, to him they are no impenetrable darkness, but an ideal existence; -all things are in him spiritually and ideally; the whole world, as -intellectual or ideal, is God. God is, therefore, the higher mean -between the Ego and the external world. In him we behold ideas, we being -so strictly united with him, that he may properly be called the place of -minds. - -The philosophy of Malebranche, whose simple thought is this, that we -know and see all things in God,--shows itself, like the occasionalism of -Geulincx, to be a peculiar attempt to stand upon the basis of the -Cartesian philosophy, and with its fundamental thought to overcome its -dualism. - -3. Two defects or inner contradictions have manifested themselves in the -philosophy of Descartes. He had considered mind and matter as -substances, each one of which excluded the other from itself, and had -sought a mediation of the two. But with such conditions no mediation -other than an external one is possible. If thought and existence are -each one substance, then can they only negate and exclude each other. -Unnatural theories, like those which have been mentioned, are the -inevitable result of this. The simplest way out of the difficulty is to -give up the principle first assumed, to strip off their independence -from the two opposites, and instead of regarding them as substances, -view them as accidents of one substance. This way of escape is moreover -indicated by a particular circumstance. According to Descartes, God is -the infinite substance, the peculiar substance in the proper sense of -the word. Mind and matter are indeed substances, but only in relation to -each other; in relation to God they are dependent, and not substances. -This is, strictly taken, a contradiction. The true consequence were -rather to say that neither the Ego (_i. e._ the individual thinking) nor -the material things are independent, but that this can be predicated -only of the one substance, God; this substance alone has a real being, -and all the being which belongs to individual essences these latter -possess not as a substantial being, but only as accidents of the one -only true and real substance. Malebranche approached this consequence. -With him the bodily world is ideally at least resolved and made to sink -in God, in whom are the eternal archetypes of all things. But _Spinoza_ -has most decidedly and logically adopted this consequence, and affirmed -the accidence of all individual being and the exclusive substantiality -of God alone. His system is the perfection and the truth of the -Cartesian. - - - - -SECTION XXVI. - -SPINOZA. - - -Baruch or Benedict Spinoza was born at Amsterdam, Nov. 24, 1632. His -parents were Jews of Portuguese descent, and being merchants of -opulence, they gave him a finished education. He studied with great -diligence the Bible and the Talmud, but soon exchanged the pursuit of -theology for the study of physics and the works of Descartes. He early -became dissatisfied with Judaism, and presently came to an open rupture -with it, though without going over formally to Christianity. In order to -escape the persecutions of the Jews, who had excommunicated him, and who -even went so far as to make an attempt upon his life, he left Amsterdam -and betook himself to Rhynsberg, near Leyden. He finally settled down at -the Hague, where he spent his life in the greatest seclusion, devoted -wholly to scientific pursuits. He supported himself by grinding optic -glasses, which his friends sold for him. The Elector Palatine, Charles -Louis, offered him a Professorship of Philosophy at Heidelberg, with the -full permission to teach as he chose, but Spinoza declined the post. -Naturally of a weak constitution, which consumption had for many years -been undermining, Spinoza died at the age of 44, on the 21st of -February, 1677. In his life there was mirrored the unclouded clearness -and exalted serenity of the perfected sage. Abstemious in his habits, -satisfied with little, the master of his passions, never intemperately -sad nor joyous, gentle and benevolent, with a character of singular -excellence and purity, he faithfully illustrated in his life, the -doctrines of his philosophy. His chief work, the _Ethica_, appeared the -year of his death. His design was probably to have published it during -his life, but the odious report that he was an atheist restrained him. -The friend he most trusted, Louis Mayer, a physician, attended to its -publication after the author's death and according to his will. - -The system of Spinoza rests upon three fundamental conceptions, from -which all the rest may be derived with mathematical necessity. These -conceptions are that of substance, of attribute, and of mode. - -1. Spinoza starts from the Cartesian conception of substance: substance -is that which needs nothing other for its existence. But with such a -conception there can exist only one single substance. A number of -substances like that of Descartes is necessarily a contradiction. There -can be nothing which has a substantial being besides the one substance -of all things. This one substance Spinoza calls God. Of course, with -such a view, the Christian idea of God, the notion of a spiritual and -personal being, must be laid aside. Spinoza expressly declares, that his -notion of God is entirely different from that of the Christian; he -denied that understanding and will could be predicated of God; he -ridiculed those who supposed that God worked for an end, and even -scorned the view which regarded the world as a product of the Divine -willing or thinking. God is, with him, only substance, and nothing more. -The propositions that there is only one God, and that the substance of -all things is only one, are with him identical. - -What now peculiarly is this substance? What is positive being? This -question it is very difficult to answer directly from the standpoint of -Spinoza, partly because a definition, according to him, must contain -(_i. e._ must be genetically) the immediate cause of that which is to be -explained, but substance is uncreated and can have no cause besides -itself; but prominently because Spinoza held that every determination is -a negation, since it must indicate a want of existence, a relative -not-being. (_Omnis determinatio est negatio_ is an expression which, -though he uses it only occasionally, expresses the fundamental idea of -his whole system.) Hence, by setting up any positive determinations of -being, we only take away from substance its infinity and make it finite. -When we therefore affirm any thing concerning it, we can only speak -negatively, _e. g._ that it has no foreign cause, that it has no -plurality, that it cannot be divided, etc. It is even reluctantly that -Spinoza declares concerning it that it is one, for this predicate might -readily be taken numerically, as implying that others, the many, stood -over against it. Thus there can remain only such positive affirmations -respecting it as express its absolute reference to itself. In this sense -Spinoza says that substance is the cause of itself, _i. e._ its being -concludes existence in itself. When Spinoza calls it eternal, it is only -another expression for the same thought; for by eternity he understands -existence itself, so far as it is conceived to follow from the -definition of the thing, in a sense similar to that in which -geometricians speak of the eternal properties of figures. Still farther -he calls substance infinite, because the conception of infinity -expressed to him the conception of true being, the absolute affirmation -of existence. So also the expression, God is free, affirms nothing more -than those already mentioned, viz., negatively, that every foreign -restraint is excluded from him, and positively, that God is in harmony -with himself, that his being corresponds to the laws of his essence. - -The comprehensive statement for the above is, that there is only one -infinite substance that excludes from itself all determination and -negation, and is named God, or nature. - -2. Besides the infinite substance or God, Descartes had assumed two -other substances created by God, viz., mind (thought), and matter -(extension). These two Spinoza considers in the light of attributes, -though, like Descartes, he receives them empirically. What, now, is the -relation of these attributes to the infinite substance? This is the -severe question, the tendon-Achilles of Spinoza's system. They cannot be -essential forms in which the substance may manifest itself or appear, -for this would make them determine the essence of the substance, which -would contradict its conception as already given. Substance, as such, is -neither understanding nor extension. If, then, the two attributes do not -flow out of the essence of the substance, and do not constitute the -substance, there remains only one other supposition, viz., that they are -externally attached to the substance; and this is, in fact, Spinoza's -view. Attribute, according to him, is that which the understanding -perceives in the substance as constituting its essence. But -understanding, as Spinoza expressly says, does not belong to substance -as such. Attributes, therefore, are those determinations which express -the essence of the substance only for the perceiving understanding; -since they express the essence of the substance in a determinate way, -while substance itself has no determinate way of being, they can only -fall outside the substance, viz., in the reflective understanding. To -the substance itself it is indifferent whether the understanding -contemplate it under these two attributes or not; the substance in -itself has an infinity of attributes, _i. e._ every possible attribute -which is not a limitation, may be predicated of it; it is only the human -understanding which attaches these two attributes to the substance, and -it affixes no more than these, because, among all the conceptions it can -form, these alone are actually positive, or express a reality. God, or -the substance, is therefore thinking, in so far as the understanding -contemplates him under the attribute of thought, and is extended in so -far as the understanding contemplates him under the attribute of -extension. It is, says Spinoza--using a figure to express this relation -of substance to attribute--it is, like a surface reflecting the light, -which (objectively taken) may be hot, though, in reference to the man -looking upon it, it is white. More accurately substance is a surface, -standing opposite to a beholder who can see only through yellow and blue -glasses; to whom, therefore, the surface must appear either yellow or -blue, though it is neither the one nor the other. - -In relation to substance, therefore, the attributes must be apprehended -as entirely independent: they must be conceived through themselves: -their conception is not dependent upon that of substance. This is -necessarily true; for since the substance can have no determinateness, -then the attribute which is its determinate being, cannot be explained -from the substance, but only through itself. Only by apprehending the -attribute independently can the unity of the substance be maintained. - -In relation to each other, the attributes are to be taken as opposites -strictly and determinately diverse. Between the bodily and the ideal -world there is no reciprocal influence nor interaction: a body can only -spring from a body, and an idea can only have an idea for its source. -Hence, therefore, neither the mind can work upon the body nor the body -upon the mind. Nevertheless there exists between the two worlds a -perfect harmony and an entire parallelism. It is one and the same -substance which is conceived under each of the two attributes, and under -which one of the two we may contemplate it is indifferent to the -substance itself, for each mode of contemplation is equally correct. -From this follows at once the proposition of Spinoza, that the -connection of ideas and of things is the same. Hence the solution to the -problem of the relation of body and soul, so difficult to find from the -Cartesian standpoint, is readily seen from that of Spinoza. Body and -soul are one and the same thing, only viewed under different attributes. -Mind is nothing but the idea of body, _i. e._ it is the same thing as -body, only that it is viewed under the attribute of thought. In the same -way is explained the apparent but not real influence of the body upon -the mind, and the mind upon the body. That which, in one point of view -is bodily motion, in another is an act of thought. In short, the most -perfect parallelism reigns between the world of bodily things and that -of ideas. - -3. Individual beings, which considered under the attribute of thought -are ideas, and under the attribute of extension are bodies, Spinoza -comprehends under the conception of accidence, or, as he calls it, mode. -By modes we are therefore to understand the changing forms of substance. -The modes stand related to the substance as the rippling waves of the -sea to the water of the sea, as forms constantly disappearing and never -having a real being. In fact this example goes too far, for the waves of -the sea are at least a part of the water of the sea, while the modes, -instead of being parts of the substance, are essentially nothing and -without being. The finite has no existence as finite; only the infinite -substance has actual existence. Substance, therefore, could not be -regarded more falsely than if it should be viewed as made up of modes. -That would be, Spinoza remarks, as if one should say that the line is -made up out of points. It is just as false to affirm that Spinoza -identifies God and the world. He identifies them so little that he would -rather say that the world, as world, _i. e._ as an aggregate of -individuals, does not at all exist; we might rather say with Hegel that -he denies the world (his system is an acosmism), than with Bayle, that -he makes every thing God, or that he ascribes divinity to every thing. - -Whence do finite things or individuals arise, if they can have no -existence by the side of substance? They are only the product of our -deceptive apprehension. There are two chief ways of knowledge--the -intuitive, through the reason, and the imaginative. To the latter belong -the knowledge of experience, and all that is abstract, superficial, and -confused; to the former, the collection of all fitting (adequate) ideas. -It is only the fault of the imagination that we should look upon the -world as a manifoldness of individuals; the manifoldness is only a form -of representation. The imagination isolates and individualizes what the -reason sees together in its unity. Hence it is only as considered -through the imagination (experience or opinion) that modes are _things_; -the reason looks upon them as necessary, or, what is the same thing, as -eternal. - -Such are the fundamental thoughts and features of Spinoza's system. His -_practical philosophy_ yet remains to be characterized and in a few -words. Its chief propositions follow necessarily from the metaphysical -grounds already cited. First, it follows from these, that what is called -free will cannot be admitted. For since man is only a mode, he, like -every other mode, stands in an endless series of conditioning causes, -and no free will can therefore be predicated of him. The will must thus, -like the body (and the resolution of the will is only a modification of -the body), be determined by something other than itself. Men regard -themselves as free only because they are conscious of their actions and -not of the determining causes. Just so the notions which one commonly -connects with the words good and evil, rest on an error as follows at -once from the conception of the absolute divine causality. Good and evil -are not something actually in the things themselves, but only express -relative conceptions which we have formed from a comparison of things -with one another. Thus, by observing certain things we form a certain -universal conception, which we thereupon treat as though it were the -rule for the being and acting of all individuals, and if any individual -varies from this conception we fancy that it does not correspond to its -nature, and is incomplete. Evil or sin is therefore only something -relative, for nothing happens against God's will. It is only a simple -negation or deprivation, which only seems to be a reality in our -representation. With God there is no idea of the evil. What is therefore -good and what evil? That is good which is useful to us, and that evil -which hinders us from partaking of a good. That, moreover, is useful to -us which brings us to a greater reality, which preserves and exalts our -being. But our true being is knowledge, and hence that only is useful to -us which aids us in knowing; the highest good is the knowledge of God; -the highest virtue of the mind is to know and love God. From the -knowledge of God we gain the highest gladness and joy of the mind, the -highest blessedness. Blessedness, hence, is not the reward of virtue, -but virtue itself. - -The grand feature of Spinoza's philosophy is that it buries every thing -individual and particular, as a finite, in the abyss of the divine -substance. With its view unalterably fixed upon the eternal one, it -loses sight of every thing which seems actual in the ordinary notions of -men. But its defect consists in its inability to transform this negative -abyss of substance into the positive ground of all-being and becoming. -The substance of Spinoza, has been justly compared to the lair of a -lion, which many footsteps enter, but from which none emerge. The -existence of the phenomenal world, though it be only the apparent and -deceptive reality of the finite, Spinoza does not explain. With his -abstract conception of substance he cannot explain it. And yet the means -to help him out of the difficulty lay near at hand. He failed to apply -universally his fundamental principle that all determination is -negation; he applied it only to the finite, but the abstract infinite, -in so far as it stands over against the finite, is also a determinate; -this infinite must be denied by its negation, which is the case when a -finite world is posited. Jacob Boehme rightly apprehended this, when he -affirmed, that without a self-duplication, without an ingress into the -limited, the finite, the original ground of things is an empty nothing -(_cf._ Sec. XXIII. 8). So the original ground of Spinoza is a nothing, a -purely indeterminate, because with him substance was only a principle of -unity and not also a principle of distinction, because its attributes, -instead of being an expression of an actual difference and a positive -distinction to itself, are rather wholly indifferent to itself. The -system of Spinoza is the most abstract Monotheism that can be thought. -It is not accidental that its author, a Jew, should have brought out -again this view of the world, this view of absolute identity, for it is -in a certain degree with him only a consequence of his national -religion--an echo of the Orient. - - - - -SECTION XXVII. - -IDEALISM AND REALISM. - - -We have now reached a point of divergence in the development of -philosophy. Descartes had affirmed and attempted to mediate the -opposition, between thought and being, mind and matter. This mediation, -however, was hardly successful, for the two sides of the opposition he -had fixed in their widest separation, when he posited them as two -substances or powers, which reciprocally negated each other. The -followers of Descartes sought a more satisfactory mediation, but the -theories to which they saw themselves driven, only indicated the more -clearly that the whole premise from which they started must be given up. -At length Spinoza abandoned the false notion, and took away its -substantiality from each of the two opposed principles. Mind and matter, -thought and extension, are now one in the infinite substance. Yet they -are not one _in themselves_, which would be the only true unity of the -two. That they are one in the substance is of little avail, since they -are indifferent to the substance, and are not immanent distinctions in -it. Thus even with Spinoza the two remain strictly separate. The ground -of this isolation we find in the fact that Spinoza himself did not -sufficiently renounce the Cartesian notion, and thus could not escape -the Cartesian dualism. With him, as with Descartes, thought is _only_ -thought, and extension _only_ extension, and in such an apprehension of -the two, the one necessarily excludes the other. If we would find an -inner mediation for the two, we must cease to abstract every thing -essential from each. The opposite sides must be mediated even in their -strictest opposition. To do this, two ways alone were possible. A -position could be taken either on the material or on the ideal side, and -the attempt made to explain the ideal under the material, or the -material under the ideal, comprehending one through the other. Both -these attempts were in fact made, and at about the same time. The two -parallel courses of a one-sided _idealism_, and a one-sided _realism_ -(Empiricism, Sensualism, Materialism), now begin their development. - - - - -SECTION XXVIII. - -LOCKE. - - -The founder of the realistic course and the father of modern Empiricism -and Materialism, is _John Locke_, an Englishman. _Thomas Hobbes_ -(1588-1679) was his predecessor and countryman, whose name we need here -only mention, as it has no importance except for the history of natural -rights. - -John Locke was born at Wrington, 1632. His student years he devoted to -philosophy and prominently to medicine, though his weak health prevented -him from practising as a physician. Few cares of business interrupted -his leisure, and he devoted his time mostly to literary pursuits. His -friendly relations with Lord Anthony Ashley, afterwards Earl of -Shaftesbury, exerted a weighty influence upon his course in life. At the -house of this distinguished statesman and author he always found the -most cordial reception, and an intercourse with the most important men -of England. In the year 1670 he sketched for a number of friends the -first plan of his famous _Essay on the Human Understanding_, though the -completed work did not appear till 1689. Locke died aged 72 in the year -1704. His writings are characterized by clearness and precision, -openness and determinateness. More acute than profound in his -philosophizing, he does not in this respect belie the characteristic of -his nation. The fundamental thoughts and results of his philosophy have -now become common property, especially among the English, though it -should not therefore be forgotten that he is the first who has -scientifically established them, and is, on this account, entitled to a -true place in the history of philosophy, even though his principle was -wanting in an inner capacity for development. - -Locke's Philosophy (_i. e._ his theory of knowledge, for his whole -philosophizing expends itself in investigating the faculty of knowing) -rests upon two thoughts, to which he never ceases to revert: first -(negatively), there are no innate ideas; second (positively), all our -knowledge arises from experience. - -Many, says Locke, suppose that there are innate ideas which the soul -receives coetaneous with its origin, and brings with it into the world. -In order to prove that these ideas are innate, it is said that they -universally exist, and are universally valid with all men. But admitting -that this were so, such a fact would prove nothing if this universal -harmony could be explained in any other way. But men mistake when they -claim such a fact. There is, in reality, no fundamental proposition, -theoretical or practical, which would be universally admitted. Certainly -there is no such practical principle, for the example of different -people as well as of different ages shows that there is no moral rule -universally admitted as valid. Neither is there a theoretical one, for -even those propositions which might lay the strongest claim to be -universally valid, _e. g._ the proposition,--"what is, is," or--"it is -impossible that one and the same thing should be and not be at the same -time,"--receive by no means a universal assent. Children and idiots have -no notion of these principles, and even uncultivated men know nothing of -these abstract propositions. They cannot therefore have been imprinted -on all men by nature. If ideas were innate, then they must be known by -all from earliest childhood. For "to be in the understanding," and "to -become known," is one and the same thing. The assertion therefore that -these ideas are imprinted on the understanding while it does not know -it, is hence a manifest contradiction. Just as little is gained by the -subterfuge, that these principles come into the consciousness _so soon_ -as men use their reason. This affirmation is directly false, for these -maxims which are called universal come into the consciousness much later -than a great deal of other knowledge, and children, _e. g._ give many -proofs of their use of reason before they know that it is impossible -that a thing should be and at the same time not be. It is only correct -to say that no one becomes conscious of these propositions without -reasoning,--but to say that they are all known with the first reasoning -is false. Moreover, that which is first known is not universal -propositions, but relates to individual impressions. The child knows -that sweet is not bitter long before he understands the logical -proposition of contradiction. He who carefully bethinks himself, will -hesitate before he affirms that particular dicta as "sweet is not -bitter," are derived from universal ones. If the universal propositions -were innate, then must they be the first in the consciousness of the -child; for that which nature has stamped upon the human soul must come -into consciousness antecedently to any thing which she has not written -there. Consequently, if there are no innate ideas, either theoretical or -practical, there can be just as truly no innate art nor science. The -understanding (or the soul) is essentially a _tabula rasa_,--a blank and -void space, a white paper on which nothing is written. - -How now does the understanding become possessed of ideas? Only through -experience, upon which all knowledge rests, and on which as its -principle all knowledge depends. Experience itself is twofold; either it -arises through the perception of external objects by means of the sense, -in which case we call it sensation; or it is a perception of the -activities of our own understanding, in which case it is named the inner -sense, or, better, reflection. Sensation and reflection give to the -understanding all its ideas; they are the windows through which alone -the light of ideas falls upon the naturally dark space of the mind; -external objects furnish us with the ideas of sensible qualities, and -the inner object, which is the understanding itself, offers us the ideas -of its own activities. To show the derivation and to give an explanation -of all the ideas derived from both is the problem of the Lockian -philosophy. For this end Locke divides ideas (representations or -notions) into _simple_ and _compound_. _Simple ideas_, he names those -which are impressed from without upon the understanding while it remains -wholly passive, just as the images of certain objects are represented in -a mirror. These simple ideas are _partly_ such as come to the -understanding through an individual sense, _e. g._ the ideas of color, -which are furnished to the mind through the eye, or those of sound, -which come to it through the ear, or those of solidity or -impenetrability, which we receive through the touch; _partly_ such as a -number of senses have combined to give us, as those of space and of -motion, of which we become conscious by means of the sense both of touch -and of sight; _partly_ such as we receive through reflection, as the -idea of thought and of will; and _partly_, in fine, such as arise from -both sensation and reflection combined, _e. g._ power, unity, &c. These -simple ideas form the material, as it were the letters of all our -knowledge. But now as language arises from a manifold combination of -letters, syllables and words, so the understanding forms complex ideas -by the manifold combination of simple ideas with each other. The complex -ideas may be referred to three classes, viz.: the ideas of mode, of -substance, and of relation. Under the ideas of mode, Locke considers the -modifications of space (as distance, measurement, immensity, surface, -figure, &c.), of time (as succession, duration, eternity), of thought -(perception, memory, abstraction, &c.), of number, power, &c. Special -attention is given by Locke to the conception of substance. He explains -the origin of this conception in this way, viz.: we find both in -sensation and reflection, that a certain number of simple ideas seem -often to be connected together. But as we cannot divest ourselves of the -impression that these simple ideas have not been produced through -themselves, we are accustomed to furnish them with a ground in some -existing substratum, which we indicate with the word substance. -Substance is something unknown, and is conceived of as possessing those -qualities which are necessary to furnish us with simple ideas. But from -the fact that substance is a product of our subjective thinking, it does -not follow that it has no existence outside of ourselves. On the -contrary, this is distinguished from all other complex ideas in the fact -that this is an idea which has its archetype distinct from ourselves, -and possesses objective reality, while other complex ideas are formed by -the mind at pleasure, and have no reality corresponding to them external -to the mind. We do not know what is the archetype of substance, and of -the substance itself we are acquainted only with its attributes. From -considering the conception of substance, Locke next passes over to the -idea of _relation_. A relation arises when the understanding has -connected two things with each other, in such a way, that in considering -them it passes over from the one to the other. Every thing is capable of -being brought by the understanding into relation, or what is the same -thing, to be transformed into something relative. It is consequently -impossible to enumerate the sum of every possible relation. Hence Locke -treats only of some of the more weighty conceptions of relation, among -others, that of identity and difference, but especially that of cause -and effect. The idea of cause and effect arises when our understanding -perceives that any thing whatsoever, be it substance or quality, begins -to exist through the activity of another. So much concerning ideas. The -combination of ideas among themselves gives the conception of knowing. -Hence knowledge stands in the same relation to the simple and complex -ideas as a proposition does to the letters, syllables and words which -compose it. From this it follows that our knowledge does not pass beyond -the compass of our ideas, and hence that it is bounded by experience. - -These are the prominent thoughts in the Lockian philosophy. Its -empiricism is clear as day. The mind, according to it, is in itself -bare, and only a mirror of the outer world,--a dark space which passively -receives the images of external objects; its whole content is made by -the impressions furnished it by material things. _Nihil est in -intellectu, quod non fuerit in sensu_--is the watchword of this -standpoint. While Locke, by this proposition, expresses the undoubted -preponderance of the material over the intellectual, he does so still -more decisively when he declares that it is possible and even probable -that the mind is a material essence. He does not admit the reverse -possibility, that material things may be classed under the intellectual -as a special kind. Hence with him mind is the secondary to matter, and -hence he is seen to take the characteristic standpoint of realism (_cf._ -Sec. XXVII). It is true that Locke was not always logically consistent, and -in many points did not thoroughly carry out his empiricism: but we can -clearly see that the road which will be taken in the farther development -of this direction, will result in a thorough denial of the ideal factor. - -The empiricism of Locke, wholly national as it is, soon became the -ruling philosophy in England. Standing on its basis we find _Isaac -Newton_, the great mathematician (1642-1727), _Samuel Clarke_, a -disciple of Newton, whose chief attention was given to moral philosophy -(1675-1729), the English moralists of this period, _William Wollaston_ -(1659-1724), the Earl of _Shaftesbury_ (1671-1713), _Francis Hutcheson_ -(1694-1746), and even some opponents of Locke, as _Peter Brown_, who -died 1735. - - - - -SECTION XXIX. - -HUME. - - -As already remarked, Locke had not been wholly consistent with the -standpoint of empiricism. Though conceding to material objects a decided -superiority above the thinking subject, there was yet one point, viz., -the recognition of substance, where he claimed for the thinking a power -above the objective world. Among all the complex ideas which are formed -by the subjective thinking, the idea of substance is, according to -Locke, the only one which has objective reality; all the rest being -purely subjective, with nothing actually corresponding to them in the -objective world. But in the very fact that the subjective thinking -places the conception of substance, which it has formed, in the -objective world, it affirms an objective relation of things, an -objective connection of them among each other, and an existing -rationality. The reason of the subject in this respect stands in a -certain degree above the objective world, for the relation of substance -is not derived immediately from the world of sense, and is no product of -sensation nor of perception through the sense. On a pure empirical -standpoint--and such was Locke's--it was therefore illogical to allow the -conception of substance to remain possessed of objective being. If the -understanding is essentially a bare and empty space, a white unwritten -paper, if its whole content of objective knowledge consists in the -impressions made upon it by material things, then must the conception of -substance also be explained as a mere subjective notion, a union of -ideas joined together at the mind's pleasure, and the subject itself, -thus fully deprived of every thing to which it could lay claim, must -become wholly subordinated to the material world. This stride to a -logical empiricism Hume has made in his criticism on the conception of -causality. - -David Hume was born at Edinburgh 1711. Devoted in youth to the study of -law, then for some time a merchant, he afterwards gave his attention -exclusively to philosophy and history. His first literary attempt was -hardly noticed. A more favorable reception was, however, given to his -"_Essays_,"--of which he published different collections from 1742 to -1757, making in all five volumes. In these Hume has treated -philosophical themes as a thoughtful and cultivated man of the world, -but without any strict systematic connection. In 1752 he was elected to -the care of a public library in Edinburgh, and began in this same year -his famous history of England. Afterwards he became secretary of -legation at Paris, where he became acquainted with Rousseau. In 1767 he -became under secretary of state, an office, however, which he filled for -only a brief period. His last years were spent in Edinburgh, in a quiet -and contented seclusion. He died 1776. - -The centre of Hume's philosophizing is his criticism of the conception -of cause. Locke had already expressed the thought that we attain the -conception of substance only by the _habit_ of always seeing certain -modes together. Hume takes up this thought with earnestness. Whence do -we know, he asks, that two things stand to each other in the relation of -cause and effect? We do not know it apriori, for since the effect is -something other than the cause, while knowledge apriori embraces only -that which is identical, the effect cannot thus be discovered in the -cause; neither do we know it through experience, for experience reveals -to us only the succession in time of two facts. All our conclusions from -experience, therefore, rest simply upon habit. Because we are in the -habit of seeing that one thing is followed in time by another, do we -form the notion that the latter _must_ follow out of the former: we make -the relation of causality out of the relation of succession; but a -connection in time is naturally something other than a causal -connection. Hence, with the conception of causality, we transcend that -which is given in perception and form for ourselves, notions to which we -are properly not entitled.--That which belongs to causality belongs to -every necessary relation. We find within us conceptions, as those of -power and expression, and in general that of necessary connection; but -let us note how we attain these: not through sensation, for though -external objects seem to us to have coetaneousness of being, they show -as no necessary connection. Do they then come through reflection? True, -it seems as if we might get the idea of power by seeing that the organs -of our body move in consequence of the dictate of our mind. But since we -do not know the means through which the mind works, and since all the -organs of the body cannot be moved by the will, it follows, that we are -indeed pointed to experience in reference to this activity; but since -experience can show us only a frequent conjunction, but no real -connection, it follows also that we come to the conception of power as -of every necessary connection, only because we are _accustomed_ to a -transcending process in our notions. All conceptions which express a -relation of necessity, all knowledge presumptive of a real objective -connection of things, rests therefore ultimately only upon the -association of ideas. Having denied the conception of substance, Hume -was led also to deny that of the Ego or self. If the Ego or self really -exists, it must be a substance possessing inherent qualities. But since -our conception of substance is purely subjective, without objective -reality, it follows that there is no correspondent reality to our -conception of the self or the Ego. The self or the Ego is, in fact, -nothing other than a compound of many notions following rapidly upon -each other; and under this compound we lay a conceived substratum, which -we call soul, self, Ego (I). The self, or the Ego, rests wholly on an -illusion. Of course, with such premises, nothing can be said of the -immortality of the soul. If the soul is only the compound of our -notions, it necessarily ceases with the notions--that which is compounded -of the movements of the body dies with those movements. - -There needs no further proof, than simply to utter these chief thoughts -of Hume, to show that his scepticism is only a logical carrying out of -Locke's empiricism. Every determination of universality and necessity -must fall away, if we derive our knowledge only from perceptions through -the sense; these determinations cannot be comprised in sensation. - - - - -SECTION XXX. - -CONDILLAC. - - -The French took up the problem of carrying out the empiricism of Locke, -to its ultimate consequences in sensualism and materialism. Although -this empiricism had sprung up on English soil, and had soon become -universally prevalent there, it was reserved for France to push it to -the last extreme, and show that it overthrew all the foundations of -moral and religious life. This final consequence of empiricism did not -correspond to the English national character. But on the contrary, both -the empiricism of Locke, and the scepticism of Hume, found themselves -opposed in the latter half of the eighteenth century, by a reaction in -the Scotch philosophy (_Reid_ 1701-1799, _Beattie_, _Oswald_, _Dugald -Stewart_, 1753-1828). The attempt was here made to establish certain -principles of truth as innate and immanent in the subject, which should -avail both against the _tabula rasa_ of Locke, and the scepticism of -Hume. These principles were taken in a thoroughly English way, as those -of common sense, as facts of experience, as facts of the moral instinct -and sound human understanding; as something empirically given, and found -in the common consciousness by self-contemplation and reflection. But in -France, on the other hand, there was such a public and social condition -of things during the eighteenth century, that we can only regard the -systems of materialism and egoistic moralism which here appeared, as the -last practical consequences of the empirical standpoint,--to be the -natural result of the universal desolation. The expression of a lady -respecting the system of Helvetius is well known, that it uttered only -the secret of all the world. - -Most closely connected with the empiricism of Locke, is the sensualism -of the Abbe _Condillac_. Condillac was born at Grenoble, 1715. In his -first writings he adhered to Locke, but subsequently passed beyond him, -and sought to ground a philosophical standpoint of his own. He was -elected a member of the French Academy in 1768, and died in 1780. His -writings fill twenty-three volumes, and have their origin in a moral and -religious interest. - -Condillac, like Locke, started with the proposition that all our -knowledge comes from experience. While, however, Locke had indicated two -sources for this knowledge, sensation and reflection, the outer and the -inner sense, Condillac referred reflection to sensation, and reduced the -two sources to one. Reflection is, with him, only sensation; all -intellectual occurrences, even the combination of ideas and volition, -are to be regarded only as modified sensations. It is the chief problem -and content of Condillac's philosophizing to carry out this thought, and -derive the different functions of the soul out of the sensations of the -outer sense. He illustrates this thought by a statue, which has been -made with a perfect internal organization like a man, but which -possesses no ideas, and in which only gradually one sense after another -awakens and fills the soul with impressions. In such a view man stands -on the same footing as the brute, for all his knowledge and all his -incentives to action he receives from sensation. Condillac consequently -names men perfect animals, and brutes imperfect men. Still he revolts -from affirming the materiality of the soul, and denying the existence of -God. These ultimate consequences of sensualism were first drawn by -others after him, as would naturally enough follow. As sensualism -affirmed that truth or being could only be perceived through the sense, -so we have only to reverse this proposition, and have the thesis of -materialism, viz.: the sensible alone is, there is no other being but -material being. - - - - -SECTION XXXI. - -HELVETIUS. - - -_Helvetius_ has exhibited the moral consequences of the sensualistic -standpoint. While theoretical sensualism affirms that all our knowledge -is determined by sensation, practical sensualism adds to this the -analogous proposition that all our volition springs from the same -source, and is regulated by the sensuous desire. Helvetius adopted it as -the principle of morals to satisfy this sensuous desire. - -Helvetius was born at Paris in 1715. Gaining a position in his -twenty-third year as farmer-general, he found himself early in the -possession of a rich income, but after a few years he found this office -so vexatious that he abandoned it. The study of Locke decided his -philosophic direction. Helvetius wrote his famed work, _de l'Esprit_, -after he had given up his office and withdrawn himself in seclusion. It -appeared in 1758, and attracted a great attention at home and abroad, -though it drew upon him a violent persecution, especially from the -clergy. It was fortunate for him that the persecution satisfied itself -with suppressing his book. The repose in which he spent his later years -was interrupted only by two journeys which he made to Germany and -England. He died in 1771. His personal character was wholly estimable, -full of kindness and generosity. Especially in his place as -farmer-general he showed himself benevolent towards the poor, and -resolute against the encroachments of his subalterns. The style of his -writings is easy and elegant. - -Self-love or interest, says Helvetius, is the lever of all our mental -activities. Even that activity which is purely intellectual, our -instinct towards knowledge, our forming of ideas, rests upon this. Since -now all self-love refers essentially only to bodily pleasure, it follows -that every mental occurrence within us has its peculiar source only in -the striving after this pleasure; but in saying this, we have only -affirmed where the principle of all morality is to be sought. It is an -absurdity to require a man to do the good simply for its own sake. This -is just as impracticable as that he should do the evil simply for the -sake of the evil. Hence if morality would not be wholly fruitless, it -must return to its empirical basis, and venture to adopt the true -principle of all acting, viz., sensuous pleasure and pain, or, in other -words, selfishness as an actual moral principle. Hence, as a correct -legislation is that which secures obedience to its laws through reward -and punishment, _i. e._ through selfishness, so will a correct system of -morals be that which derives the duties of men from self-love, which -shows that that which is forbidden is something which is followed by -disagreeable consequences. A system of ethics which does not involve the -self-interest of men, or which wars against this, necessarily remains -fruitless. - - - - -SECTION XXXII. - -THE FRENCH CLEARING UP (_Aufklaerung_) AND MATERIALISM. - - -1. It has already been remarked (Sec. XXX.) that the carrying out of -empiricism to its extremes, as was attempted in France, was most -intimately connected with the general condition of the French people and -state, in the period before the revolution. The contradictory element in -the character of the Middle Ages, the external and dualistic relation to -the spiritual world, had developed itself in Catholic France till it had -corrupted and destroyed every condition. Morality, mainly through the -influence of a licentious court, had become wholly corrupted; the state -had sunk to an unbridled despotism, and the church to a hierarchy as -hypocritical as it was powerful. Thus, as every intellectual edifice was -threatened with ruin, nature, as matter without intellect, as the object -of sensation and desire, alone remained. Yet it is not the materialistic -extreme which constitutes the peculiar character and tendency of the -period now before us. The common character of the philosophers of the -eighteenth century is rather, and most prominently, the opposition -against every ruling restraint, and perversion in morals, religion, and -the state. Their criticism and polemics, which were much more ingenious -and eloquent than strictly scientific, were directed against the whole -realm of traditional and given and positive notions. They sought to show -the contradiction between the existing elements in the state and the -church, and the incontrovertible demands of the reason. They sought to -overthrow in the faith of the world every fixed opinion which had not -been established in the eye of reason, and to give the thinking man the -full consciousness of his pure freedom. In order that we may correctly -estimate the merit of these men, we must bring before us the French -world of that age against which their attacks were directed; the -dissoluteness of a pitiful court, the slavish obedience exacted by a -corrupt priesthood, a church sunken into decay yet seeking worldly -honor, a state constitution, a condition of rights and of society, which -must be profoundly revolting to every thinking man and every moral -feeling. It is the immortal merit of these men that they gave over to -scorn and hatred the abjectness and hypocrisy which then reigned; that -they brought the minds of men to look with indifference upon the idols -of the world, and awakened within them a consciousness of their own -autonomy. - -2. The most famous and influential actor in this period of the French -clearing up, is _Voltaire_ (1694-1778). Though a writer of great -versatility, rather than a philosopher, there was yet no philosopher of -that time who exerted so powerful an influence upon the whole thinking -of his country and his age. Voltaire was no atheist. On the contrary, he -regarded the belief in a Supreme Being to be so necessary, that he once -said that if there were no God we should be under the necessity of -inventing one. He was just as little disposed to deny the immortality of -the soul, though he often expressed his doubts upon it. He regarded the -atheistic materialism of a La Mettrie as nothing but nonsense. In these -respects, therefore, he is far removed from the standpoint of the -philosophers who followed him. His whole hatred was expended against -Christianity as a positive religion. To destroy this system he -considered as his peculiar mission, and he left no means untried to -attain this anxiously longed-for end. His unwearied warfare against -every positive religion prepared the way and gave weapons for the -attacks against spiritualism which followed. - -3. The Encyclopedists had a more decidedly sceptical relation to the -principles and the basis of spiritualism. The philosophical Encyclopedia -established by _Diderot_ (1713-1784), and published by him in connection -with d'Alembert, is a memorable monument of the ruling spirit in France -in the time before the revolution. It was the pride of France at that -age, because it expressed in a splendid and universally accessible form -the inner consciousness of the French people. With the keenest wit it -reasoned away law from the state, and freedom from morality, and spirit -and God from nature, though all this was done only in scattered, and, -for the most part, timorous intimations. In Diderot's independent -writings we find talent of much philosophic importance united with great -earnestness. But it is very difficult to fix and accurately to limit his -philosophic views, since they were very gradually formed, and Diderot -expressed them always with some reserve and accommodation. In general, -however, it may be remarked, that in the progress of his speculations he -constantly approached nearer the extreme of the philosophical direction -of his age. In his earlier writings a Deist, he afterwards avowed the -opinion that every thing is God. At first defending the immateriality -and immortality of the soul, he expressed himself at a later period -decidedly against these doctrines, affirming that the species alone has -an abiding being while the individual passes away, and that immortality -is nothing other than to live in the thoughts of coming generations. But -Diderot did not venture to the real extreme of logical materialism; his -moral earnestness restrained him from this. - -4. The last word of materialism was spoken with reckless audacity by _La -Mettrie_ (1709-1751), a contemporary of Diderot: every thing spiritual -is a delusion, and physical enjoyment is the highest end of men. Faith -in the existence of a God, says La Mettrie, is just as groundless as it -is fruitless. The world will not be happy till atheism becomes -universally established. Then alone will there be no more religious -strife, then alone will theologians, the most odious of combatants, -disappear, and nature, poisoned at present by their influence, will come -again to its rights. In reference to the human soul, there can be no -philosophy but materialism. All the observation and experience of the -greatest philosophers and physicians declare this. Soul is nothing but a -mere name, which has a rational signification only when we understand by -it that part of our body which thinks. This is the brain, which has its -muscles of thought, just as the limbs have their muscles of motion. That -which gives man his advantage over the brutes is, first, the -organization of his brain, and second, its capacity for receiving -instruction. Otherwise, is man a brute like the beasts around him, -though in many respects surpassed by these. Immortality is an absurdity. -The soul perishes with the body of which it forms a part. With death -every thing is over, _la farce est jouee_! The practical and selfish -application of all this is--let us enjoy ourselves as long as we exist, -and not throw away any satisfaction we can attain. - -5. The _Systeme de la Nature_ afterwards attempted to elaborate with -greater earnestness and scientific precision, that which had been -uttered so superficially and so superciliously by La Mettrie, viz., the -doctrine that matter alone exists, while mind is nothing other than -matter refined. - -The _Systeme de la Nature_ appeared in London under a fictitious name in -1770. It was then published as a posthumous work of Mirabaud, late -secretary of the Academy. It doubtless had its origin in the circle -which was wont to assemble with Baron Holbach, and of which Diderot, -Grimm, and others formed a part. Whether the Baron Holbach himself, or -his tutor Lagrange is the author of this work, or whether it is the -joint production of a number, cannot now be determined. The _Systeme de -la Nature_ is hardly a French book: the style is too heavy and tedious. - -There is, in fact, nothing but matter and motion, says this work. Both -are inseparably connected. If matter is at rest, it is only because -hindered in motion, for in its essence it is not a dead mass. Motion is -twofold, attraction and repulsion. The different motions which we see -are the product of these two, and through these different motions arise -the different connections and the whole manifoldness of things. The laws -which direct in all this are eternal and unchangeable.--The most weighty -consequences of such a doctrine are: - -(1.) _The materiality of man._ Man is no twofold being compounded of -mind and matter, as is erroneously believed. If the inquiry is closely -made what the mind is, we are answered, that the most accurate -philosophical investigations have shown, that the principle of activity -in man is a substance whose peculiar nature cannot be known, but of -which we can affirm that it is indivisible, unextended, invisible, &c. -But now, who should conceive any thing determinate in a substance which -is only the negation of that which gives knowledge, an idea which is -peculiarly only the absence of all ideas? Still farther, how can it be -explained upon such a hypothesis, that a substance which itself is not -material can work upon material things; and how can it set these in -motion, since there is no point of contact between the two? In fact, -those who distinguish their soul from their body, have only to make a -distinction between their brain and their body. Thought is only a -modification of our brain, just as volition is another modification of -the same bodily organ. - -(2.) Another chimera, the belief in the being of a God, is connected -with the twofold division of man into body and soul. This belief arises -like the hypothesis of a soul-substance, because mind is falsely divided -from matter, and nature is thus made twofold. The evil which men -experienced, and whose natural cause they could not discover, they -assigned to a deity which they imagined for the purpose. The first -notions of a God have their source therefore in sorrow, fear, and -uncertainty. We tremble because our forefathers for thousands of years -have done the same. This circumstance awakens no auspicious -prepossession. But not only the rude, but also the theological idea of -God is worthless, for it explains no phenomenon of nature. It is, -moreover, full of absurdities, for, since it ascribes moral attributes -to God, it renders him human; while on the other hand, by a mass of -negative attributes, it seeks to distinguish him absolutely from every -other being. The true system, the system of nature, is hence atheistic. -But such a doctrine requires a culture and a courage which neither all -men nor most men possess. If we understand by the word atheist one who -considers only _dead_ matter, or who designates the _moving power_ in -nature with the name God, then is there no atheist, or whoever would be -one is a fool. But if the word means one who denies the existence of a -spiritual being, a being whose attributes can only be a source of -annoyance to men, then are there indeed atheists, and there would be -more of them, if a correct knowledge of nature and a sound reason were -more widely diffused. But if atheism is true, then should it be -diffused. There are, indeed, many who have cast off the yoke of -religion, who nevertheless think it is necessary for the common people -in order to keep them within proper limits. But this is just as if we -should determine to give a man poison lest he should abuse his strength. -Every kind of Deism leads necessarily to superstition, since it is not -possible to continue on the standpoint of pure deism. - -(3.) With such premises the freedom and immortality of the soul both -disappear. Man, like every other substance in nature, is a link in the -chain of necessary connection, a blind instrument in the hands of -necessity. If any thing should be endowed with self-motion, that is, -with a capacity to produce motion without any other cause, then would it -have the power to destroy motion in the universe; but this is contrary -to the conception of the universe, which is only an endless series of -necessary motions spreading out into wider circles continually. The -claim of an individual immortality is absurd. For to affirm that the -soul exists after the destruction of the body, is to affirm that a -modification of a substance can exist after the substance itself has -disappeared. There is no other immortality than to live in the -remembrance of posterity. - -(4.) The practical consequences of these principles are in the highest -degree favorable for the system of nature, the utility of any doctrine -being ever the first criterion of its truth. While the ideas of -theologians are productive only of disquiet and anxiety to man, the -system of nature frees him from all such unrest, teaches him to enjoy -the present moment, and to quietly yield to his destiny, while it gives -him that kind of apathy which every one must regard as a blessing. If -morality would be active, it can rest only upon self-love and -self-interest; it must show man whither his well-considered interest -would lead him. He is a good man who gains his own interest in such a -way that others will find it for their interest to assist him. The -system of self-interest, therefore, demands the union of men among each -other, and hence we have true morality. - -The logical dogmatic materialism of the _Systeme de la Nature_ is the -farthest limit of an empirical direction in philosophy, and consequently -closes that course of the development of a one-sided realism which had -begun with Locke. The attempt first made by Locke to explain and derive -the ideal world from the material, ended in materialism with the total -reduction of every thing spiritual to the material, with the total -denial of the spiritual. We must now, before proceeding farther, -according to the classification made Sec. XXVII., consider the idealistic -course of development which ran parallel with the systems of a partial -realism. At the head of this course stands _Leibnitz_. - - - - -SECTION XXXIII. - -LEIBNITZ. - - -As empiricism sprang from the striving to subject the intellectual to -the material, to materialize the spiritual, so on the other hand, -idealism had its source in the effort to spiritualize the material, or -so to apprehend the conception of mind that matter could be subsumed -under it. To the empiric-sensualistic direction, mind was nothing but -refined matter, while to the idealistic direction matter was only -degenerated (_vergroebert_) mind ("a confused notion," as Leibnitz -expresses it). The former, in its logical development, was driven to the -principle that only material things exist, the latter (as with Leibnitz -and Berkeley) comes to the opposite principle, that there are only souls -and their ideas. For the partial realistic standpoint, material things -were the truly substantial. But for the idealistic standpoint, the -substantial belongs alone to the intellectual world, to the Egos. Mind, -to the partial realism, was essentially void, a _tabula rasa_, its whole -content came to it from the external world. But a partial idealism -sought to carry out the principle that nothing can come into the mind -which had not at least been preformed within it, that all its knowledge -is furnished it by itself. According to the former view knowledge was a -passive relation, according to the latter was it wholly active. While, -in fine, a partial realism had attempted to explain the becoming in -nature for the most part through real, _i. e._ through mechanical -motives (_l'homme machine_ is the title of one of la Mettrie's -writings), idealism had sought an explanation of the same through ideal -motives, _i. e._ teleologically. While the former had made its prominent -inquiry for moving causes, and had, indeed, often ridiculed the search -for a final cause; it is final causes toward which the latter directs -its chief aim. The mediation between mind and matter, between thought -and being, will now be sought in the final cause, in the teleological -harmony of all things (_pre-established harmony_). The standpoint of -Leibnitz may thus be characterized in a word. - -_Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz_ was born in 1646, at Leipsic, where his -father was professor. Having chosen the law as his profession, he -entered the university in 1661, and in 1663 he defended for his degree -of doctor in philosophy, his dissertation _de principio individui_, a -theme well characteristic of the direction of his later philosophizing. -He afterwards went to Jena, and subsequently to Altdorf, where he became -doctor of laws. At Altdorf he was offered a professorship of -jurisprudence, which he refused. The rest of his life was unsettled and -desultory, spent for the most part in courts, where, as a versatile -courtier, he was employed in the most varied duties of diplomacy. In the -year 1672 he went to Paris, in order to induce Louis XIV. to undertake -the conquest of Egypt. He subsequently visited London, whence he was -afterwards called to Hanover, as councillor of the Duke of Brunswick. He -received later a post as librarian at Wolfenbuettel, between which place -and Hanover he spent the most of his subsequent life, though interrupted -with numerous journeys to Vienna, Berlin, etc. He was intimately -associated with the Prussian Electress, Maria Charlotte, a highly -talented woman, who surrounded herself with a circle of the most -distinguished scholars of the time, and for whom Liebnitz wrote, at her -own request, his _Theodicee_. In 1701, after Prussia had become a -kingdom, an academy was established at Berlin, through, his efforts, and -he became its first president. Similar, but fruitless attempts were made -by him to establish academies in Dresden and Vienna. In 1711 the title -of imperial court councillor, and a baronage, was bestowed upon him by -the emperor Charles VI. Soon after, he betook himself to Vienna, where -he remained a considerable period, and wrote his Monadology, at the -solicitation of Prince Eugene. He died in 1716. Next to Aristotle, -Leibnitz was the most highly gifted scholar that had ever lived; with -the richest and most extensive learning, he united the highest and most -penetrating powers of mind. Germany has reason to be proud of him, -since, after Jacob Boehme, he is the first philosopher of any note among -the Germans. With him philosophy found a home in Germany. It is to be -regretted that the great variety of his efforts and literary -undertakings, together with his roving manner of life, prevented him -from giving any connected exhibition of his philosophy. His views are -for the most part developed only in brief and occasional writings and -letters, composed frequently in the French language. It is hence not -easy to state his philosophy in its internal connection, though none of -his views are isolated, but all stand strictly connected with each -other. The following are the chief points: - -1. THE DOCTRINE OF MONADS.--The fundamental peculiarity of Leibnitz's -theory is its opposition to Spinozism. Substance, as the indeterminate -universal, was with Spinoza the only positive. With Leibnitz also the -conception of substance lay at the basis of his philosophy, but his -definition of it was entirely different. While Spinoza had sought to -exclude from his substance every positive determination, and especially -all acting, and had apprehended it simply as pure being, Leibnitz viewed -it as living activity and active energy, an example for which might be -found in a stretched bow, which moved and straightened itself through -its own energy as soon as the external hindrance was removed. That this -active energy forms the essence of substance is a principle to which -Leibnitz ever returns, and from which, in fact, all the other chief -points in his philosophy may be derived. From this there follow at the -outset two determinations of substance directly opposed to Spinozism; -first, that it is a single being, a monad; and second, that there are a -multiplicity of monads. The first follows because substance, in so far -as it exercises an activity similar to an elastic body, is essentially -an excluding activity, or repulsion; the conception of an individual or -a monad being that which excludes another from itself. The second -follows because the existence of one monad involves the existence of -many. The conception of one individual postulates other individuals, -which stand over against the one as excluded from it. Hence the -fundamental thesis of the Leibnitz philosophy in opposition to Spinozism -is this, viz., there is a multiplicity of individual substances or -monads. - -2. THE MONADS MORE ACCURATELY DETERMINED.--The monads of Leibnitz are -similar to atoms in their general features. Like these they are -corpuscular units, independent of any external influence, and -indestructible by any external power. But notwithstanding this -similarity, there is an important and characteristic difference between -the two. First, the atoms are not distinguished from each other, they -are all qualitatively alike; but each one of the monads is different in -quality from every other, every one is a peculiar world for itself, -every one is different from every other. According to Leibnitz, there -are no two things in the world which are exactly alike. Secondly, atoms -can be considered as extended and divisible, but the monads are -metaphysical points, and actually indivisible. Here, lest we should -stumble at this proposition (for an aggregate of unextended monads can -never give an extended world), we must take into consideration -Leibnitz's view of space, which, according to him, is not something -real, but only confused, subjective representation. Thirdly, the monad -is a representative being. With the atomists such a determination would -amount to nothing, but with Leibnitz it has a very important part to -play. According to him, in every monad, every other is reflected; every -monad is a living mirror of the universe, and ideally contains the whole -within itself as in a germ. In thus mirroring the world, however, the -monad is not passive but spontaneously self-active: it does not receive -the images which it mirrors, but produces them spontaneously itself, as -the soul does a dream. In every monad, therefore, the all-seeing and -all-knowing one might read every thing, even the future, since this is -potentially contained in the present. Every monad is a kind of God. -(_Parvus in suo genere Deus._) - -3. THE PRE-ESTABLISHED HARMONY.--The universe is thus the sum of all the -monads. Every thing, every composite, is an aggregate of monads. Thus -every bodily organism is not one substance, but many, it is a -multiplicity of monads, like a machine which is made up of a number of -distinct pieces of mechanism. Leibnitz compared bodies to a fish-pond, -which might be full of living elements, though dead itself. The ordinary -view of things is thus wholly set aside; the truly substantial does not -belong to bodies, _i. e._ to the aggregates, but to their original -elements. Matter, in the vulgar sense, as something conceived to be -without mind, does not at all exist. How now must the inner connection -of the universe be conceived? In the following way. Every monad is a -representative being, and at the same time, each one is different from -every other. This difference, therefore, depends alone upon the -difference of representation: there are just as many different degrees -of representation as there are monads, and these degrees may be fixed -according to some of their prominent stages. The representations may be -classified according to the distinction between confused and distinct -knowledge. Hence a monad of the lowest rank (a monad _toute nue_) will -be one which _simply_ represents, _i. e._ which stands on the stage of -most confused knowledge. Leibnitz compares this state with a swoon, or -with our condition in a dreamy sleep, in which we are not without -representations, (notions)--for otherwise we could have none when -awaking--but in which the representations are so numerous that they -neutralize each other and do not come into the consciousness. This is -the stage of inorganic nature. In a higher rank are those monads in -which the representation is active as a formative vital force, though -still without consciousness. This is the stage of the vegetable world. -Still higher ascends the life of the monad when it attains to sensation -and memory, as is the case in the animal kingdom. The lower monads may -be said to sleep, and the brute monads to dream. When still farther the -soul rises to reason or reflection, we call it mind, spirit.--The -distinction of the monads from each other is, therefore, this, that each -one, though mirroring the whole and the same universe in itself, does it -from a different point of view, and, therefore, differently, the one -more, and the rest less perfectly. Each one is a different centre of the -world which it mirrors. Each one contains the whole universe, the whole -infinity within itself, and in this respect is like God, the only -difference being that God knows every thing with perfect distinctness, -while the monad represents it confusedly, though one monad may represent -it more confusedly than another. The limitation of a monad does not, -therefore, consist in its containing less than another or than God, but -only in its containing more imperfectly or in its representing less -distinctly.--Upon this standpoint the universe, in so far as every monad -mirrors one and the same universe, though each in a different way, -represents a drama of the greatest possible difference, as well as of -the greatest possible unity and order, _i. e._ of the greatest possible -perfection, or the _absolute harmony_. For distinction in unity is -harmony.--But in still another respect the universe is a system of -harmony. Since the monads do not work upon each other, but each one -follows only the law of its own being, there is danger lest the inner -harmony of the universe may be disturbed. How is this danger removed? -Thus, viz., every monad mirrors the whole and the same universe. The -changes of the collected monads, therefore, run parallel with each -other, and in this consists the harmony of all as pre-established by -God. - -4. THE RELATION OF THE DEITY TO THE MONADS.--What part does the -conception of God play in the system of Leibnitz? An almost idle one. -Following the strict consequences of his system, Leibnitz should have -held to no proper theism, but the harmony of the universe should have -taken the place of the Deity. Ordinarily he considers God as the -sufficient cause of all monads. But he was also accustomed to consider -the final cause of a thing as its sufficient cause. In this respect, -therefore, he almost identifies God and the absolute final cause. -Elsewhere he considers the Deity as a simple primitive substance, or as -the individual primitive unity. Again, he speaks of God as a pure -immaterial actuality, _actus purus_, while to the monads belongs matter, -_i. e._ restrained actuality, striving, _appetitio_. Once he calls him a -monad, though this is in manifest contradiction with the determinations -otherwise assigned him. It was for Leibnitz a very difficult problem to -bring his monadology and his theism into harmony with each other, -without giving up the premises of both. If he held fast to the -substantiality of the monads, he was in danger of making them -independent of the Deity, and if he did not, he could hardly escape -falling back into Spinozism. - -5. THE RELATION OF SOUL AND BODY is clearly explained on the standpoint -of the pre-established harmony. This relation, taking the premises of -the monadology, might seem enigmatical. If no monad can work upon any -other, how can the soul work upon the body to lead and move it? The -enigma is solved by the pre-established harmony. While the body and -soul, each one independently of the other, follows the laws of its -being, the body working mechanically, and the soul pursuing ends, yet -God has established such a concordant harmony of the two activities, -such a parallelism of the two functions, that there is in fact a perfect -unity for body and soul. There are, says Leibnitz, three views -respecting the relation of body and soul. The first and most common -supposes a reciprocal influence between the two, but such a view is -untenable, because there can be no interchange between mind and matter. -The second and occasional one (_cf._ Sec. XXV. 1), brings about this -interchange through the constant assistance of God, which is nothing -more nor less than to make God a _Deus ex machina_. Hence the only -solution for the problem is the hypothesis of a pre-established harmony. -Leibnitz illustrates these three views in the following example. Let one -conceive of two watches, whose hands ever accurately point to the same -time. This agreement may be explained, first (the common view), by -supposing an actual connection between the hands of each, so that the -hand of the one watch might draw the hand of the other after it, or -second (the occasional view), by conceiving of a watch-maker who -continually keeps the hands alike, or in fine (the pre-established -harmony), by ascribing to each a mechanism so exquisitely wrought that -each one goes in perfect independence of the other, and at the same time -in entire agreement with it.--That the soul is immortal (indestructible), -follows at once from the doctrine of monads. There is no proper death. -That which is called death is only the soul losing a part of the monads -which compose the mechanism of its body, while the living element goes -back to a condition similar to that in which it was before it came upon -the theatre of the world. - -6. The monadology has very important consequences in reference to THE -THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE. As the philosophy of Leibnitz, by its opposition to -Spinozism, had to do with the doctrine of being, so by its opposition to -the empiricism of Locke must it expound the theory of knowledge. Locke's -Essay on the Human Understanding had attracted Leibnitz without -satisfying him, and he therefore attempted a new investigation in his -_Nouveaux Essais_, in which he defended the doctrine of innate ideas. -But this hypothesis of innate ideas Leibnitz now freed from that -defective view which had justified the objections of Locke. The -innateness of the ideas must not be held as though they were explicitly -and consciously contained in the mind, but rather the mind possesses -them potentially and only virtually, though with the capacity to produce -them out of itself. All thoughts are properly innate, _i. e._ they do -not come into the mind from without, but are rather produced by it from -itself. Any external influence upon the mind is inconceivable, it even -needs nothing external for its sensations. While Locke had compared the -mind to an unwritten piece of paper, Leibnitz likened it to a block of -marble, in which the veins prefigure the form of the statue. Hence the -common antithesis between rational and empirical knowledge disappears -with Leibnitz in the degrees of greater or less distinctness.--Among -these theoretically innate ideas, Leibnitz recognizes two of special -prominence, which take the first rank as principles of all knowledge and -all ratiocination,--the principle of contradiction (_principium -contradictionis_), and the principle of sufficient cause (_principium -rationis sufficientis_). To these, as a principle of the second rank, -must be added the _principium indiscernibilium_, or the principle that -there are in nature no two things wholly alike. - -7. The most elaborate exhibition of Leibnitz's theological views is -given in his _Theodicee_. The Theodicee, is, however, his weakest work, -and has but a loose connection with the rest of his philosophy. Written -at the instigation of a woman, it belies this origin neither in its form -nor in its content--not in its form, for in its effort to be popular it -becomes diffuse and unscientific, and not in its content, for it -accommodates itself to the positive dogmas and the premises of theology -farther than the scientific basis of the system of Leibnitz would -permit. In this work, Leibnitz investigates the relation of God to the -world in order to show a conformity in this relation to a final cause, -and to free God from the charge of acting without or contrary to an aim. -Why is the world as it is? God might have created it very differently. -True, answers Leibnitz, God saw an infinite number of worlds as possible -before him, but out of all these he chose the one which actually is as -the best. This is the famous doctrine of the best world, according to -which no more perfect world is possible than the one which is.--But how -so? Is not the existence of evil at variance with this? Leibnitz answers -this objection by distinguishing three kinds of evil, the metaphysical, -the physical, and the moral. The metaphysical evil, _i. e._ the -finiteness and incompleteness of things, is necessary because -inseparable from finite existence, and is thus independent of the will -of God. Physical evil (pain, &c.), though not independent of the will of -God, is often a good conditionally, _i. e._ as a punishment or means of -improvement. Moral evil or wickedness can in no way be charged to the -will of God. Leibnitz took various ways to account for its existence, -and obviate the contradiction lying between it and the conception of -God. At one time he says that wickedness is only permitted by God as a -_conditio sine qua non_, because without wickedness there were no -freedom, and without freedom no virtue. Again, he reduces the moral evil -to the metaphysical, and makes wickedness nothing but a want of -perfection, a negation, a limitation, playing the same part as do the -shadows in a painted picture, or the discords in a piece of music, which -do not diminish the beauty, but only increase it through contrast. -Again, he distinguishes between the material and the formal element in a -wicked act. The material of sin, the power to act, is from God, but the -formal element, the wickedness of the act, belongs wholly to man, and is -the result of his limitation, or, as Leibnitz here and there expresses -it, of his eternal self-predestination. In no case can the harmony of -the universe be destroyed through such a cause. - -These are the chief points of Leibnitz's philosophy. The general -characteristic of it as given in the beginning of the present section, -will be found to have its sanction in the specific exhibition that has -now been furnished. - - - - -SECTION XXXIV. - -BERKELEY. - - -Leibnitz had not carried out the standpoint of idealism to its extreme. -He had indeed, on the one side, explained space and motion and bodily -things as phenomena which had their existence only in a confused -representation, but on the other side, he had not wholly denied the -existence of the bodily world, but had recognized as a reality lying at -its basis, the world of monads. The phenomenal or bodily world had its -fixed and substantial foundation in the monads. Thus Leibnitz, though an -idealist, did not wholly break with realism. The ultimate consequence of -a subjective idealism would have been to wholly deny the reality of the -objective, sensible world, and explain corporeal objects as simply -phenomena, as nothing but subjective notions without any objective -reality as a basis. This consequence the idealistic counterpart to the -ultimate realistic result of materialism--appears in _George Berkeley_, -who was born in Ireland, 1684, made bishop of the Anglican Church in -1734, and died in 1753. Hence, though he followed the empiricism of -Locke, and sustained no outward connection with Leibnitz, we must place -him in immediate succession to the latter as the perfecter of a -subjective idealism. - -Our sensations, says Berkeley, are entirely subjective. We are wholly in -error if we believe that we have a sensation of external objects or -perceive them. That which we have and perceive is only our sensations. -It is _e. g._ clear, that by the sense of sight we can _see_ neither the -distance, the size, nor the form of objects, but that we only _conclude_ -that these exist, because our experience has taught us that a certain -sensation of sight is always attended by certain sensations of touch. -That which we see is only colors, clearness, obscurity, &c., and it is -therefore false to say that we see and feel the same thing. So also we -never go out of ourselves for those sensations to which we ascribe most -decidedly an objective character. The peculiar objects of our -understanding are only our own affections; all ideas are hence only our -own sensations. But just as there can be no sensations outside of the -sensitive subject, so no idea can have existence outside of him who -possesses it. The so-called objects exist only in our notion, and have a -being only as they are perceived. It is the great error of most -philosophers that they ascribe to corporeal objects a being outside the -conceiving mind, and do not see that they are only mental. It is not -possible that material things should produce any thing so wholly -distinct from themselves as sensations and notions. There is no such -thing as a material external world; _mind alone exists_ as thinking -being, whose nature consists in thinking and willing. But whence then -arise all our sensations which come to us like the images of fancy, -without our agency, and which are thus no products of our will? They -arise from a spirit superior to ourselves--for only a spirit can produce -within us notions--even from God. God gives us ideas; but as it would be -contradictory to assert that a being could give what it does not -possess, so ideas exist _in God_, and we derive them from him. These -ideas in God may be called archetypes, and those in us ectypes.--In -consequence of this view, says Berkeley, we do not deny an independent -reality of things, we only deny that they can exist elsewhere than in an -understanding. Instead therefore of speaking of a nature in which, _e. -g._ the sun is the cause of warmth, &c., the accurate expression would -be this: God announces to us through the sense of sight that we should -soon perceive a sensation of warmth. Hence by nature we are only to -understand the succession or the connection of ideas, and by natural -laws the constant order in which they proceed, _i. e._ the laws of the -association of ideas. This thorough-going subjective idealism, this -complete denial of matter, Berkeley considered as the surest way to -oppose materialism and atheism. - - - - -SECTION XXXV. - -WOLFF. - - -The idealism of Berkeley, as was to be expected from the nature of the -case, remained without any farther development, but the philosophy of -Leibnitz was taken up and subjected to a farther revision by _Christian -Wolff_. He was born in Breslau in 1679. He was chosen professor at -Halle, where he became obnoxious to the charge of teaching a doctrine at -variance with the Scriptures, and drew upon himself such a violent -opposition from the theologians of the university, that a cabinet order -was issued for his dismissal on the 8th of November, 1723, and he was -enjoined to leave Prussia within forty-eight hours on pain of being -hung. He then became professor in Marburg, but was afterwards recalled -to Prussia by Frederic II. immediately upon his accession to the throne. -He was subsequently made baron, and died 1754. In his chief thoughts he -followed Leibnitz, a connection which he himself admitted, though he -protested against the identification of his philosophy with that of -Leibnitz, and objected to the name, _Philosophia Leibnitio-Wolffiana_, -which was taken by his disciple Bilfinger. The historical merit of Wolff -is threefold. First, and most important, he laid claim again to the -whole domain of knowledge in the name of philosophy, and sought again to -build up a systematic framework, and make an encyclopedia of philosophy -in the highest sense of the word. Though he did not himself furnish much -new material for this purpose, yet he carefully elaborated and arranged -that which he found at hand. Secondly, he made again the philosophical -method as such, an object of attention. His own method is, indeed, an -external one as to its content, namely, the mathematical or the -mathematico-syllogistical, recommended by Leibnitz, and by the -application of this his whole philosophizing sinks to a level formalism. -(For instance, in his principles of architecture, the eighth proposition -is--"a window must be wide enough for two persons to recline together -conveniently,"--a proposition which is thus proved: "we are more -frequently accustomed to recline and look out at a window in company -with another person than alone, and hence, since the builder of the -house should satisfy the owner in every respect (Sec. 1), he must make a -window wide enough for two persons conveniently to recline within it at -the same time".) Still this formalism is not without its advantage, for -it subjects the philosophical content to a logical treatment. Thirdly, -Wolff has taught philosophy to speak German, an art which it has not -since forgotten. Next to Leibnitz, he is entitled to the merit of having -made the German language for ever the organ of philosophy. - -The following remarks will suffice for the content and the scientific -classification of Wolff's philosophy. He defines philosophy to be the -science of the possible as such. But that is possible which contains no -contradiction. Wolff defends this definition against the charge of -presuming too much. It is not affirmed, he says, with this definition -that either he or any other philosopher knows every thing which is -possible. The definition only claims for philosophy the whole province -of human knowledge, and it is certainly proper that philosophy should be -described according to the highest perfection which it can attain, even -though it has not yet actually reached it.--In what parts now does this -science of the possible consist? Resting on the perception that there -are within the soul two faculties, one of knowing and one of willing, -Wolff divides philosophy into two great parts, theoretical philosophy -(an expression, however, which first appears among his followers), or -metaphysics, and practical philosophy. Logic precedes both as a -preliminary training for philosophical study. Metaphysics are still -farther divided by Wolff into ontology, cosmology, psychology, and -natural theology; practical philosophy he divides into ethics, whose -object is man as man; economics, whose object is man as a member of the -family; and politics, whose object is man as a citizen of the state. - -1. ONTOLOGY is the first part of Wolff's metaphysics. Ontology treats of -what are now called categories, or those fundamental conceptions which -are applied to every object, and must therefore at the outset be -investigated. Aristotle had already furnished a table of categories, but -he had derived them wholly empirically. It is not much better with the -ontology of Wolff; it is laid out like a philosophical dictionary. At -its head he places the principle of contradiction, viz.: it is not -possible for any thing to be, and at the same time not to be. The -conception of the possible at once follows from this principle. That is -possible which contains no contradiction. That is necessary, the -opposite of which contradicts itself, and that is accidental, the -opposite of which is possible. Every thing which is possible is a thing, -though only an imaginary one; that which neither is, nor is possible, is -nothing. When many things together compose a thing, this is a whole, and -the individual things comprehended by it are its parts. The greatness of -a thing consists in the multitude of its parts. If A contains that by -which we can understand the being of B, then that in A by which B -becomes understood is the ground of B, and the whole A which contains -the ground of B is its cause. That which contains the ground of its -properties is the essence of a thing. Space is the arrangement of things -which exist conjointly. Place is the determinate way in which a thing -exists in conjunction with others. Movement is change of place. Time is -the arrangement of that which exists successively, etc. - -2. COSMOLOGY.--Wolff defines the world to be a series of changing -objects, which exist conjointly and successively, but which are so -connected together that one ever contains the ground of the other. -Things are connected in space and in time. By virtue of this universal -connection, the world is one united whole; the essence of the world -consists in the manner of its connection. But this manner cannot be -changed. It can neither receive any new ingredients nor lose any of -those it possesses. From the essence of the world spring all its -changes. In this respect the world is a machine. Events in the world are -only hypothetically necessary in so far as previous events have had a -certain character; they are accidental in so far as the world might have -been directed otherwise. In respect to the question whether the world -had a beginning in time, Wolff does not express himself explicitly. -Since God is independent of time, but the world has been from eternity -in time, the world therefore is in no case eternal in any sense like -God. But according to Wolff, neither space nor time has any substantial -being. Body is a connected thing composed of matter, and possessing a -moving power within itself. The powers of a body taken together are -called its nature, and the comprehension of all being is called nature -in general. That which has its ground in the essence of the world is -called natural, and that which has not, is supernatural, or a wonder. At -the close of his cosmology, Wolff treats of the perfection and -imperfection of the world. The perfection of a world consists in the -harmony with each other of every thing which exists conjointly and -successively. But since every thing has its separate rules, the -individual must give up so much from its perfection as is necessary for -the symmetry of the whole. - -3. RATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY.--The soul is that within us which is -self-conscious. In the self-consciousness of the soul are itself and -other objects. Consciousness is either clear or indistinct. Clear -consciousness is thought. The soul is a simple incorporeal substance. -There dwells within it a power to represent to itself a world. In this -sense brutes also may have a soul, but a soul which possesses -understanding and will is mind, and mind belongs alone to men. The soul -of man is a mind joined to a body, and this is the distinction between -men and superior spirits. The movements of the soul and of the body -harmonize with each other by virtue of the preestablished harmony. The -freedom of the human soul is the power according to its own arbitrament, -to choose of two possible things that which pleases it best. But the -soul does not decide without motives, it ever chooses that which it -holds to be the best. Thus the soul would seem impelled to its action by -its representations, but the understanding is not constrained to its -representations of that which is good and bad, and hence also the will -is not constrained, but free. As a simple being the soul is indivisible, -and hence incorruptible; the souls of brutes, however, have no -understanding, and hence enjoy no conscious existence after death. This -belongs alone to the human soul, and hence the human soul alone is -immortal. - -4. NATURAL THEOLOGY.--Wolff uses here the cosmological argument to -demonstrate the existence of a God. God might have made different -worlds, but has preferred the present one as the best. This world has -been called into being by the will of God. His aim in its creation was -the manifestation of his own perfection. Evil in the world does not -spring from the Divine will, but from the limited being of human things. -God permits it only as a means of good. - -This brief aphoristic exposition of Wolff's metaphysics, shows how -greatly it is related to the doctrine of Leibnitz. The latter, however, -loses much of its speculative profoundness by the abstract and logical -treatment it receives in the hands of Wolff. For the most part, the -specific elements of the monadology remain in the background; with -Wolff, his simple beings are not representative like the Monads, but -more like the Atoms. Hence there is with him much that is illogical and -contradictory. His peculiar merit in metaphysics is ontology, which he -has elaborated far more strictly than his predecessors. A multitude of -philosophical terminations owe to him their origin, and their -introduction into philosophical language. - -The philosophy of Wolff, comprehensible and distinct as it was, and by -its composition in the German language more accessible than that of -Leibnitz, soon became the popular philosophy, and gained an extensive -influence. Among the names which deserve credit for their scientific -treatment of it, we may mention _Thuemming_, 1697-1728; _Bilfinger_, -1693-1750; _Baumeister_, 1708-1785; _Baumgarten_ the esthetic, -1714-1762; and his scholar _Meier_, 1718-1777. - - - - -SECTION XXXVI. - -THE GERMAN CLEARING UP. - - -Under the influence of the philosophy of Leibnitz and Wolff, though -without any immediate connection with it, there arose in Germany during -the latter half of the eighteenth century, an eclectic popular -philosophy, whose different phases may be embraced under the name of the -German clearing up. It has but little significance for the history of -philosophy, though not without importance in other respects. Its great -aim was to secure a higher culture, and hence a cultivated and polished -style of reasoning is the form in which it philosophized. It is the -_German_ counterpart of the _French_ clearing up. As the latter closed -the realistic period of development by drawing the ultimate consequence -of materialism, so the former closed the idealistic series by its -tendency to an extreme subjectivism. To the men of this direction, the -empirical, individual Ego becomes the absolute; they forget every thing -else for it, or rather every thing else has a value in their eyes only -in proportion as it refers and ministers to the subject by contributing -to its demands and satisfying its inner cravings. Hence the question of -immortality becomes now the great problem of philosophy (in which -respect we may mention _Mendelssohn_, 1727-1786, the most important man -in this direction); the eternal duration of the individual soul is the -chief point of interest; objective ideas or truths of faith, _e. g._ the -personality of God, though not denied, cease to have an interest; it is -held as a standing article of belief that we can know nothing of God. In -another current of this direction, it is moral philosophy and esthetics -(_Garvey_, 1742-1798; _Engel_, 1741-1802; _Abbt_, 1738-1766; _Sulzer_, -1720-1779) which find a scientific treatment, because both these -preserve a subjective interest. In general, every thing is viewed in its -useful relations; the useful becomes the peculiar criterion of truth; -that which is not useful to the subject, or which does not minister to -his subjective ends, is set aside. In connection with this turn of mind -stands the prevailing teleological direction which the investigations of -nature assumed (_Reimarus_, 1694-1765), and the utilitarian character -given to ethics. The happiness of the individual was considered as the -highest principle and the supreme end (_Basedow_, 1723-1790). Even -religion is contemplated from this point of view. Reimarus wrote a -treatise upon the "_advantages_" of religion, in which he attempted to -prove that religion was not subversive of earthly pleasure, but rather -increased it; and _Steinbart_ (1738-1809) elaborated, in a number of -treatises, the theme that all wisdom consists alone in attaining -happiness, _i. e._ enduring satisfaction, and that the Christian -religion, instead of forbidding this, was rather itself the true -doctrine of happiness. In other particulars Christianity received only a -temperate respect; wherever it laid claim to any authority disagreeable -to the subject (as in individual doctrines like that of future -punishment), it was opposed, and in general the effort was made to -counteract, as far as possible, the positive dogma by natural religion. -Reimarus, for example, the most zealous defender of theism and of the -teleological investigation of nature, is at the same time the author of -the Wolfenbuettel fragments. By criticizing the Gospel history, and every -thing positive and transmitted, and by rationalizing the supernatural in -religion, the subject displayed its new-found independence. In fine, the -subjective standpoint of this period exhibits itself in the numerous -autobiographies and self-confessions then so prevalent; the isolated -self is the object of admiring contemplation (_Rousseau_, 1712-1778, and -his confessions); it beholds itself mirrored in its particular -conditions, sensations, and views--a sort of flirtation with itself, -which often rises to sickly sentimentality. According to all this, it is -seen to be the extreme consequence of subjective idealism which -constitutes the character of the German clearing up period, which thus -closes the series of an idealistic development. - - - - -SECTION XXXVII. - -TRANSITION TO KANT. - - -The idealistic and the realistic stage of development to which we have -now been attending, each ended with a one-sided result. Instead of -actually and internally reconciling the opposition between thought and -being, they both issued in denying the one or the other of these -factors. Realism, on its side, had made matter absolute; and idealism, -on its side, had endowed the empirical Ego with the same -attribute--extremes in which philosophy was threatened with total -destruction. It had, in fact, in Germany as in France, become merged in -the most superficial popular philosophy. Then _Kant_ arose, and brought -again into one channel the two streams which, when separate from each -other, threatened to lose themselves amid the sands. Kant is the great -renovator of philosophy, who brought back to their point of divergence -the one-sided efforts which had preceded him, and embraced them in their -unity and totality. He stands in some special and fitting relation -either antagonistic or harmonious to all others--to Locke no less than to -Hume, to the Scottish philosophers no less than to the English and -French moralists, to the philosophy of Leibnitz and of Wolff, as well as -to the materialism of the French and the utilitarianism of the German -clearing up period. His relation to the development of a partial -idealism and a one-sided realism is thus stated: Empiricism had made the -Ego purely passive and subordinate to the sensible external -world--idealism had made it purely active, and given it a sovereignty -over the sensible world; Kant attempted to strike a balance between -these two claims, by affirming that the Ego as practical is free and -autonomic, an unconditioned lawgiver for itself, while as theoretical it -is receptive and conditioned by the phenomenal world; but at the same -time the theoretical Ego contains the two sides within itself, for if, -on the one side, empiricism may be justified upon the ground that the -material and only field of all our knowledge is furnished by experience, -so on the other side, rationalism may be justified on the ground that -there is an apriori factor and basis to our knowledge, for in experience -itself we make use of conceptions which are not furnished by experience, -but are contained apriori in our understanding. - -In order, now, that we may bring the very elaborate framework of the -Kantian philosophy into a clearer outline, let us briefly glance at its -fundamental conceptions, and notice its chief principles and results. -Kant subjected the activity of the human mind in knowing, and the origin -of our experience, to his critical investigation. Hence his philosophy -is called critical philosophy, or criticism, because it aims to be -essentially an examination of our faculty of knowledge; it is also -called transcendental philosophy, since Kant calls the reflection of the -reason upon its relation to the objective world, a transcendental -reflection (transcendental must not be confounded with transcendent), -or, in other words, a transcendental knowledge is one "which does not -relate so much to objects of knowledge, as to our way of knowing them, -so far as this is apriori possible." The examination of the faculty of -knowledge, which Kant attempts in his "_Critick of Pure Reason_," shows -the following results. All knowledge is a product of two factors, the -knowing subject and the external world. Of these two factors, the latter -furnishes our knowledge with experience, as the matter, and the former -with the conceptions of the understanding, as the form, through which a -connected knowledge, or a synthesis of our perceptions in a whole of -experience first becomes possible. If there were no external world, then -would there be no phenomena; if there were no understanding, then these -phenomena, or perceptions, which are infinitely manifold, would never be -brought into the unity of a notion, and thus no experience were -possible. Thus, while intuitions without conceptions are blind, and -conceptions without intuitions are empty, knowledge is a union of the -two, since it requires that the form of conception should be filled with -the matter of experience, and that the matter of experience should be -apprehended in the net of the understanding's conceptions. Nevertheless, -we do not know things as they are in themselves. _First_, because the -categories, or the forms of our understanding prevent. By bringing that -which is given as the material of knowledge into our own conceptions as -the form, there is manifestly a change in respect of the objects, which -become thought of not as they are, but only as we apprehend them; they -appear to us only as they are transmuted into categories. But besides -this subjective addition, there is yet another. _Secondly_, we do not -know things as they are in themselves, because even the intuitions which -we bring within the form of the understanding's conceptions, are not -pure and uncolored, but are already penetrated by a subjective medium, -namely, by the universal form of all objects of sense, space and time. -Space and time are also subjective additions, forms of sensuous -intuition, which are just as originally present in our minds as the -fundamental conceptions or categories of our understanding. That which -we would represent intuitively to ourselves we must place in space and -time, for without these no intuition is possible. From this it follows -that it is only phenomena which we know, and not things in themselves -separate from space and time. - -A superficial apprehension of these Kantian principles might lead one to -suppose that Kant's criticism did not essentially go beyond the -standpoint of Locke's empiricism. But such a supposition disappears upon -a careful scrutiny. Kant was obliged to recognize with Hume that the -conceptions, cause and effect, substance and attribute, and the other -conceptions which the human understanding sees itself necessitated to -think in the phenomena, and in which every one of its thoughts must be -found, do not arise from any experience of the sense. For instance, when -we become affected through different senses, and perceive a white color, -a sweet taste, a rough surface, &c., and predicate all these of one -thing, as a piece of sugar, there come from without only the plurality -of sensations, while the conception of unity cannot come through -sensation, but is a category or conception borne over to the sensations -from the mind itself. But instead of denying, for this reason, the -reality of these conceptions of the understanding, Kant took a step in -advance, assigning a peculiar province to this activity of the -understanding, and showing that these forms of thought thus furnished to -the matter of experience are immanent laws of the human faculty of -knowledge, the peculiar laws of the understanding's operations, which -may be obtained by a perfect analysis of our thinking activity. (Of -these laws or conceptions there are twelve, viz., unity, plurality, -totality; reality, negation, limitation; substantiality, causality, -reciprocal action; possibility, actuality, and necessity.) - -From what has been said we can see the three chief principles of the -Kantian theory of knowledge: - -1. WE KNOW ONLY PHENOMENA AND NOT THINGS IN THEMSELVES.--The experience -furnished us by the external world becomes so adjusted and altered in -its relations (for we apprehend it at first in the subjective framework -of space and time, and then in the equally subjective forms of our -understanding's conceptions), that it no longer represents the thing -itself in its original condition, pure and unmixed. - -2. NEVERTHELESS EXPERIENCE IS THE ONLY PROVINCE OF OUR KNOWLEDGE, AND -THERE IS NO SCIENCE OF THE UNCONDITIONED.--This follows of course, for -since every knowledge is the product of the matter of experience, and -the form of the understanding, and depends thus upon the co-working of -the sensory and the understanding, then no knowledge is possible of -objects for which one of these factors, experience, fails us; a -knowledge alone from the understanding's conceptions of the -unconditioned is illusory since the sensory can show no unconditioned -object corresponding to the conception. Hence the questions which Kant -places at the head of his whole Critick; how are synthetical judgments -apriori possible? _i. e._ can we widen our knowledge apriori, by thought -alone, beyond the sensuous experience? is a knowledge of the -supersensible possible? must be answered with an unconditional negative. - -3. Still, if the human knowledge makes no effort to stride beyond the -narrow limits of experience, _i. e._ to become transcendent, it involves -itself in the greatest contradictions. The three ideas of the reason, -the psychological, the cosmological, and the theological, viz. (_a_) the -idea of an absolute subject, _i. e._ of the soul, or of immortality, -(_b_) the idea of the world as a totality of all conditions and -phenomena, (_c_) the idea of a most perfect being--are so wholly without -application to the empirical actuality, are so truly regulative, and not -constitutive principles, which are only the pure products of the reason, -and are so entirely without a correspondent object in experience, that -whenever they are applied to experience, _i. e._ become conceived of as -actually existing objects, they lead to pure logical errors, to the most -obvious paralogisms and sophisms. These errors, which are partly false -conclusions and paralogisms, and partly unavoidable contradictions of -the reason with itself, Kant undertook to show in reference to all the -ideas of the reason. Take, _e. g._ the cosmological idea. Whenever the -reason posits any transcendental expressions in reference to the -universe, _i. e._ attempts to apply the forms of the finite to the -infinite, it is at once evident that the antithesis of those expressions -can be proved just as well as the thesis. The affirmation that the world -has a beginning in time, and limits in space, can be proved as well as, -and no better than its opposite, that the world has no beginning in -time, and no spacial limits. Whence it follows that all speculative -cosmology is an assumption by the reason. So also with the theological -idea; it rests on bare logical paralogisms, and false conclusions, as -Kant, with great acuteness, shows in reference to each of the proofs for -the being of a God, which previous dogmatic philosophies had attempted. -It is therefore impossible to prove and to conceive of the existence of -a God as a Supreme Being, or of the soul as a real subject, or of a -comprehending universe. The peculiar problems of metaphysics lie outside -the province of philosophical knowledge. - -Such is the negative part of the Kantian philosophy; its positive -complement is found in the "_Critick of the Practical Reason_." While -the mind as theoretical and cognitive is wholly conditioned, and ruled -by the objective and sensible world, and thus knowledge is only possible -through intuition, yet as practical does it go wholly beyond the given -(the sense impulse), and is determined only through the categorical -imperative, and the moral law, which is itself, and is therefore free -and autonomic; the ends which it pursues are those which itself, as -moral spirit, places before itself; objects are no more its masters and -lawgivers, to which it must yield if it would know the truth, but its -servants, which it may use for its own ends in actualizing its moral -law. While the theoretical mind is united to a world of sense and -phenomena, a world obedient to necessary laws, the practical mind, by -virtue of the freedom essential to it, by virtue of its direction -towards an absolute aim, belongs to a purely intelligible and -supersensible world. This is the practical idealism of Kant, from which -he derives the three practical postulates of the immortality of the -soul, moral freedom, and the being of a God, which, as theoretical -truths, had been before denied. - -With this brief sketch for our guidance, let us now pass on to a more -extended exposition of the Kantian Philosophy. - - - - -SECTION XXXVIII. - -KANT. - - -Immanuel Kant was born at Koenigsberg in Prussia, April 22, 1724. His -father an honest saddlemaker, and his mother a prudent and pious woman, -exerted a good influence upon him in his earliest youth. In the year -1740 he entered the university, where he connected himself with the -theological department, but devoted the most of his time to philosophy, -mathematics, and physics. He commenced his literary career in his -twenty-third year, in 1747, with a treatise entitled "_Thoughts -concerning the true estimate of Living Forces_." He was obliged by his -pecuniary circumstances to spend some years as a private tutor in -different families in the neighborhood of Koenigsberg. In 1755 he took a -place in the university as "_privat-docent_," which position he held for -fifteen years, during which time he gave lectures upon logic, -metaphysics, physics, mathematics, and also, during the latter part of -the time, upon ethics, anthropology, and physical geography. At this -period he adhered for the most part to the school of Wolff, though early -expressing his doubts in respect of dogmatism. From the publication of -his first treatise he applied himself to writing with unwearied -activity, though his great work, the "_Critick of pure Reason_," did not -appear till his fifty-seventh year, 1781. His "_Critick of the practical -Reason_," was issued in 1787, and his "_Religion within the bounds of -pure Reason_," in 1793. In 1770, in his forty-sixth year, he was chosen -ordinary professor of logic and metaphysics, a chair which he continued -to fill uninterruptedly till 1794, when the weakness of age obliged him -to leave it. Invitations to professorships at Jena, Erlangen, and Halle, -were given him and rejected. As soon as he became known, the noblest and -most active minds flocked from all parts of Germany to Koenigsberg, to -sit at the feet of the sage who was master there. One of his -worshippers, Reuss, professor of philosophy at Wuerzburg, who abode but a -brief time at Koenigsberg, entered his chamber, declaring that he had -come one hundred and sixty miles[3] in order to see Kant and to speak -with him.--During the last seventeen years of his life he occupied a -little house with a garden, in a quiet quarter of the city, where his -calm and regular mode of life might be undisturbed. His habits of life -were very simple. He never left his native province even to go as far as -Dantzic. His longest journeys were to visit some country-seats in the -environs of Koenigsberg. Nevertheless, as his lectures upon physical -geography testify, he acquired by reading the most accurate knowledge of -the earth. He knew all of Rousseau's works, of which _Emile_ at its -first appearance detained him for a number of days from his customary -walks. Kant died February 12, 1804, in the eightieth year of his life. -He was of medium stature, finely built, with blue eyes, and always -enjoyed sound health till in his latter years, when he became childish. -He was never married. His character was marked by an earnest love of -truth, great candor, and simple modesty. - -Though Kant's great work, the "Critick of pure Reason," which created an -epoch in the history of philosophy, did not appear till 1781; yet had he -previously shown an approach towards the same standpoint in several -smaller treatises, and particularly in his inaugural dissertation which -appeared in 1770, "_Concerning the form and the principles of the -Sense-World and that of the Understanding_." Kant himself refers the -inner genesis of his critical standpoint to Hume. "I freely confess," he -says, "that it was David Hume who first roused me from my dogmatic -slumber, and gave a different direction to my investigations in the -field of speculative philosophy." The critical view therefore first -became developed in Kant as he left the dogmatic metaphysical school, -the Wolffian philosophy in which he had grown up, and went over to the -study of a sceptical empiricism in Hume. "Hitherto," says Kant at the -close of his Critick of pure Reason, "men have been obliged to choose -either a dogmatical direction, like Wolff, or a sceptical one, like -Hume. The critical road alone is yet open. If the reader has had -pleasure and patience in travelling along this in my company, let him -now contribute his aid in making this by-path into a highway, in order -that that which many centuries could not effect may now be attained -before the expiration of the present, and the reason become perfectly -content in respect of that which has hitherto, but in vain, engaged its -curiosity." Kant had the clearest consciousness respecting the relation -of his criticism to the previous philosophy. He compares the revolution -which he himself had brought about in philosophy with that wrought by -Copernicus in astronomy, "Hitherto it has been assumed that all our -knowledge must regulate itself according to the objects; but all -attempts to make any thing out of them apriori, through notions whereby -our knowledge might be enlarged, proved, under this supposition, -abortive. Let us, then, try for once whether we do not succeed better -with the problems of metaphysics, by assuming that the objects must -regulate themselves according to our knowledge, a mode of viewing the -subject which accords so much better with the desired possibility of a -knowledge of them apriori, which must decide something concerning -objects before they are given us. The circumstances are in this case -precisely the same as with the first thoughts of Copernicus, who, -finding that his attempt to explain the motions of the heavenly bodies -did not succeed, when he assumed the whole starry host to revolve around -the spectator, tried whether he should not succeed better, if he left -the spectator himself to turn, and the stars on the contrary at rest." -In these words we have the principle of a subjective idealism, most -clearly and decidedly expressed. - -In the succeeding exposition of the Kantian philosophy we shall most -suitably follow the classification adopted by Kant himself. His -principle of classification is a psychological one. All the faculties of -the soul, he says, may be referred to three, which are incapable of any -farther reduction; knowing, feeling, and desire. The first faculty -contains the principles, the governing laws for all the three. So far as -the faculty of knowledge contains the principles of knowledge itself, is -it theoretical reason, and so far as it contains the principles of -desire and action, is it practical reason, while, so far as it contains -the principles which regulate the feelings of pleasure and pain, is it a -faculty of judgment. Thus the Kantian philosophy (on its critical side) -divides itself into three criticks, (1) Critick of pure _i. e._ -theoretical reason, (2) Critick of practical reason, (3) Critick of the -judgment. - -I. CRITICK OF PURE REASON.--The critick of pure reason, says Kant, is the -inventory in which all our possessions through pure reason are -systematically arranged. What are these possessions? When we have a -cognition, what is it that we bring thereto? To answer these questions, -Kant explores the two chief fields of our theoretical consciousness, the -two chief factors of all knowledge, the sensory and the understanding. -Firstly: what does our sensory or our faculty of intuition possess -apriori? Secondly: what is the apriori possession of our understanding? -The first of these questions is discussed in the transcendental -_AEsthetics_ (a title which we must take not in the sense now commonly -attached to the word, but in its etymological signification as the -"science of the apriori principles of the sensory"); and the second in -the transcendental _Logic_ or _Analytics_. Sense and understanding are -thus the two factors of all knowledge, the two stalks--as Kant expresses -it--of our knowledge, which may spring from a common root, though this is -unknown to us: the sensory is the receptivity, and the understanding the -spontaneity of our cognitive faculty; by the sensory, which can only -furnish intuitions, objects become _given_ to us; by the understanding, -which forms conceptions, these objects become _thought_. Conceptions -without intuitions are empty; intuitions without conceptions are blind. -Intuitions and conceptions constitute the reciprocally complemental -elements of our intellectual activity. What now are the apriori -principles respectively of our knowledge, through the sense and through -the thought? The first of these questions, as already said, is answered -by - -1. THE TRANSCENDENTAL AESTHETICS.--To anticipate at once the answer, we -may say that the apriori principles of our knowledge through the sense, -the original forms of sensuous intuition, are space and time. Space is -the form of the external sense, by means of which objects are given to -us as existing outside of ourselves separately and conjointly; time is -the form of the inner sense, by means of which the circumstances of our -own soul-life become objects to our consciousness. If we abstract every -thing belonging to the matter of our sensations, space remains as the -universal form in which all the materials of the external sense must be -arranged. If we abstract every thing which belongs to the matter of our -inner sense, time remains as the form which the movement of the mind had -filled. Space and time are the highest forms of the outer and inner -sense. That these forms lie apriori in the human mind, Kant proves, -first, directly from the nature of these conceptions themselves; and, -secondly, indirectly by showing that without apriori presupposing these -conceptions, it were not possible to have any certain science of -undoubted validity. The first of these he calls the _metaphysical_, and -the second the _transcendental discussion_. - -(1.) In the _metaphysical discussion_ it is to be shown, (_a_) that -space and time are apriori given, (_b_) that these notions belong to the -sensory (aesthetics) and not to the understanding (logic), _i. e._ that -they are intuitions and not conceptions, (_a_) That space and time are -apriori is clear from the fact that every experience, before it can be, -must presuppose already a space and time. I perceive something as -external to me; but this external presupposes space. Again, I have two -sensations at the same time and successively; this presupposes time, -(_b_) Space and time, however, are by no means conceptions, but forms of -intuition, or intuitions themselves. For in every universal conception -the individual is comprehended under it, and is not a part of it; but in -space and time, all individual spaces and times are parts of and -contained within the universal space and the universal time. - -(2.) In the _transcendental discussion_ Kant draws his proof indirectly -by showing that certain sciences, universally recognized as such, can -only be conceived upon the supposition that space and time are apriori. -A pure mathematics is only possible on the ground that space and time -are pure and not empirical intuitions. Kant comprises the whole problem -of the Transcendental AEsthetics in the question--how are pure -mathematical sciences possible? The ground, says Kant, upon which pure -mathematics moves, is space and time. But now mathematics utters its -principles as universal and necessary. Universal and necessary -principles, however, can never come from experience; they must have an -apriori ground; consequently it is impossible that space and time, out -of which mathematics receives its principles, should be first given -aposteriori; they must be given apriori as pure intuitions. Hence we -have a knowledge apriori, and a science which rests upon apriori -grounds; and the matter simply resolves itself into this, viz.: -whosoever should deny that apriori knowledge can be, must also at the -same time deny the possibility of mathematics. But if the fundamental -truths of mathematics are intuitions apriori, we might conclude that -there may be also apriori conceptions, out of which, in connection with -these pure intuitions, a metaphysics could be formed. This is the -positive result of the Transcendental AEsthetics, though with this -positive side the negative is closely connected. Intuition or immediate -knowledge can be attained by man only through the sensory, whose -universal intuitions are only space and time. But since these intuitions -of space and time are no objective relations, but only subjective forms, -there is therefore something subjective mingled with all our intuitions, -and we can know things not as they are in themselves, but only as they -appear to us through this subjective medium of space and time. This is -the meaning of the Kantian principle, that we do not know things in -themselves, but only phenomena. But if on this account we should affirm -that all things are in space and time, this would be too much; they are -in space and time only for us,--all phenomena of the external sense -appearing both in space and in time, and all phenomena of the inner -sense appearing only in time. Notwithstanding this, Kant would in no -ways have admitted that the world of sense is mere appearance. He -affirmed, that while he contended for a transcendental ideality, there -was, nevertheless, an empirical reality of space and time: things -external to ourselves exist just as certainly as do we and the -circumstances within us, only they are not represented to us as they are -in themselves and in their independence of space and of time. As to the -question, whether there is any thing in the thing itself back of the -phenomena, Kant intimates in the first edition of his Critick, that it -is not impossible that the Ego and the thing-in-itself are one and the -same thinking substance. This thought, which Kant threw out as a mere -conjecture, was the source of all the wider developments of the latest -philosophy. It was afterwards the fundamental idea of the Fichtian -system, that the Ego does not become affected through a thing -essentially foreign to it, but purely through itself. In the second -edition of his Critick, however, Kant omitted this sentence. - -The Transcendental AEsthetics closes with the discussion of space and -time, _i. e._ with finding out what is in the sensory apriori. But the -human mind cannot be satisfied merely with the receptive relation of the -sensory; it does not simply receive objects, but it applies to these its -own spontaneity, and attempts to think these through its conceptions, -and embrace them in the forms of its understanding. It is the object of -the _Transcendental Analytic_ (which forms the first part of the -_Transcendental Logic_), to examine these apriori conceptions or forms -of thought which lie originally in the understanding, as the forms of -space and time do in the intuitive faculty. - -2. THE TRANSCENDENTAL ANALYTIC.--It is the first problem of the Analytic -to attain the pure conceptions of the understanding. Aristotle had -already attempted to form a table of these conceptions or categories, -but he had collected them empirically instead of deriving them from a -common principle, and had numbered among them space and time, though -these are no pure conceptions of the understanding, but only forms of -intuition. But if we would have a perfect, pure, and regularly arranged -table of all the conceptions of the understanding, or all the apriori -forms of thought, we must look for a principle out of which we may -derive them. This principle is the judgment. The general fundamental -conceptions of the understanding may be perfectly attained if we look at -all the different modes or forms of the judgment. For this end Kant -considers the different kinds of judgment as ordinarily pointed out to -us by the science of logic. Now logic shows that there are four kinds of -judgment, viz., judgments of - - _Quantity._ _Quality._ _Relation._ _Modality._ - Universal, Affirmative, Categorical, Problematical, - Plurative, Negative, Hypothetical, Assertive, - Singular. Illimitable. Disjunctive. Apodictic. - -From these judgments result the same number of fundamental conceptions -or categories of the understanding, viz.: - - - _Quantity._ _Quality._ _Relation._ _Modality._ - Totality, Reality, Substance and Possibility and - inherence, impossibility, - Multiplicity, Negation, Cause and Being and - dependence, not-being, - Unity. Limitation. Reciprocal action. Necessity and - accidence. - -From these twelve categories all the rest may be derived by combination. -From the fact that these categories are shown to belong apriori to the -understanding, it follows, (1) that these conceptions are apriori, and -hence have a necessary and universal validity, (2) that by themselves -they are empty forms, and attain a content only through intuitions. But -since our intuition is wholly through the sense, these categories have -their validity only in their application to the sensuous intuition, -which becomes a proper experience only when apprehended in the -conceptions of the understanding.--Here we meet a second question; how -does this happen? How do objects become subsumed under these forms of -the understanding, which for themselves are so empty? - -There would be no difficulty with this subsumption if the objects and -the conceptions of the understanding were the same in kind. But they are -not. Because the objects come to the understanding from the sensory, -they are of the nature of the sense. Hence the question arises: how can -these sensible objects be subsumed under pure conceptions of the -understanding, and fundamental principles (judgments apriori), be formed -from them? This cannot result immediately, but there must come in -between the two, a third, which must have some thing in common with -each, _i. e._ which is in one respect pure and apriori, and in another -sensible. The two pure intuitions of the Transcendental AEsthetics, space -and time, especially the latter, are of such a nature. A transcendental -time determination, as the determination of coetaneousness, corresponds -on the one side to the categories, because it is apriori, and on the -other side to the phenomenal objects, because every thing phenomenal can -be represented only in time. The transcendental time determination, Kant -calls in this respect the transcendental _schema_, and the use which the -understanding makes of it, he calls the transcendental _schematism_ of -the pure understanding. The schema is a product of the imaginative -faculty, which self-actively determines the inner sense to this, though -the schema is something other than a mere image. An image is always -merely an individual and determinate intuition, but the schema merely -represents the universal process of the imagination, by which it -furnishes for a conception a proper image. Hence the schema can only -exist in the conception, and never suffers itself to be brought within -the sensuous intuition. If, now, we consider more closely the schematism -of the understanding, and seek the transcendental time determination for -every category, we find that: - -(1) _Quantity_ has for a universal schema _the series of time_ or -number, which represents the successive addition of one and one of the -same kind. I can only represent to myself the pure understanding -conception of greatness, except as I bring into the imagination a number -of units one after another. If I stop this process at its first -beginning, the result is unity; if I let it go on farther I have -plurality; and if I suffer it to continue without limit, there is -totality. Whenever I meet with objects in the phenomenal world, which I -can only apprehend successively, I am directed to apply the conception -of greatness, which would not be possible without the schema of _the -series of time_. - -(2) _Quality_ has for its schema _the content of time_. If I wish to -represent to myself the understanding conception of reality, which -belongs to quality, I bring before me in thought a time filled up, or a -content of time. That is real which fills a time. If also I would -represent to myself the pure understanding conception of negation, I -bring into thought a void time. - -(3) The categories of _relation_ take their schemata from _the order of -time_; for if I would represent to myself a determinate relation, I -always bring into thought a determinate order of things in time. -Substance appears as the persistence of the real in time; causality as -regular succession in time; reciprocal action as the regular -coetaneousness of the determinations in the one substance, with the -determinations in the other. - -(4) The categories of _modality_ take their schema from _the whole of -time_, _i. e._ from whether, and how, an object belongs to time. The -schema of possibility is the general harmony of a representation with -the conditions of time; the schema of actuality is the existence of an -object in a determined time; that of necessity is the existence of an -object for all time. - -We are thus furnished with all the means for forming metaphysical -fundamental principles (judgments apriori); we have, _firstly_, -conceptions apriori, and _secondly_, schemata through which we can apply -these conceptions to objects; for since every object which we can -perceive, falls in time, so must it also fall under one of these -schemata, which have been borrowed from time, and must consequently -permit the corresponding category to be applied to it. The judgments -which we here attain are synthetical. They are, corresponding to the -four classes of categories, the following: (1) All phenomena are, -according to intuition, extensive greatness, since they cannot be -apprehended otherwise than through space and time. On this principle the -axioms of intuition rely. (2) All phenomena are, according to sensation, -intensive greatness, since every sensation has a determined degree, and -is capable of increase and diminution. On this principle the -anticipations of perception rest. (3) The phenomena stand under -necessary time-determinations. They contain the substantial, which -abides, and the accidental, which changes. In reference to the change of -accidence, they are subject to the law of the following connection, -through the relation of cause and effect: as substances they are, in -respect of their accidences, in a constant reciprocal action. From this -principle spring the analogies of experience. (4) The postulates of -empirical thinking are contained in the principles: (_a_) that which -coincides with the formal conditions of experience, is possible, and can -become phenomenon; (_b_) that which agrees with the material conditions -of experience is actual, and is phenomenon; (_c_) that, whose connection -with the actual is determined according to the universal conditions of -experience, is necessary, and must be phenomenon. Such are the possible -and authorized synthetical judgments apriori. But it must not be -forgotten that we are entitled to make only an empirical use of all -these conceptions and principles, and that we must ever apply them only -to things as objects of a possible experience, and never to things in -themselves; for the conception without an object is an empty form, but -the object cannot be given to the conception except in intuition, and -the pure intuition of space and time needs to be filled by experience. -Hence, without reference to human experience, these apriori conceptions -and principles are nothing but a sporting of the imagination and the -understanding, with their representations. Their peculiar determination -is only to enable us to spell perceptions, that we may read them as -experiences. But here one is apt to fall into a delusion, which can -hardly be avoided. Since the categories are not grounded upon the -sensory, but have an apriori origin, it would seem as though their -application would reach far beyond the sense; but such a view is a -delusion; our conceptions are not able to lead us to a knowledge of -things in themselves (_noumena_), since our intuition gives us only -phenomena for the content of our conceptions, and the thing in itself -can never be given in a possible experience; our knowledge remains -limited to the phenomena. The source of all the confusions and errors -and strife in previous metaphysics, was in confounding the phenomenal -with the noumenal world. - -Besides the categories or conceptions of the understanding, which have -been considered, and which are especially important for experience, -though often applied erroneously beyond the province of experience, -there are other conceptions whose peculiar province is only to deceive; -conceptions whose express determination is to pass beyond the province -of experience, and which may consequently be called transcendent. These -are the fundamental conceptions and principles of the previous -metaphysics. To examine these conceptions, and destroy the appearance of -objective science and knowledge, which they falsely exhibit, is the -problem of the _Transcendental Dialectics_ (the second part of the -transcendental logic). - -3. THE TRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTICS.--In a strict sense, the reason is -distinguished from the understanding. As the understanding has its -categories, the reason has its ideas; as the understanding forms -fundamental maxims from conceptions, the reason forms principles from -ideas, in which the maxims of the understanding have their highest -confirmation. The peculiar work of the reason is, in general, to find -the unconditioned for the conditioned knowledge of the understanding, -and to unify it. Hence the reason is the faculty of the unconditioned, -or of principles; but since it has no immediate reference to objects, -but only to the understanding and its judgments, its activity must -remain an immanent one. If it would take the highest unity of the reason -not simply in a transcendental sense, but exalt it to an actual object -of knowledge, then it would become transcendent in that it applied the -conceptions of the understanding to the knowledge of the unconditioned. -From this transcending and false use of the categories, arises the -transcendental appearance which decoys us beyond experience, by the -delusive pretext of widening the domain of the pure understanding. It is -the problem of the transcendental logic to discover this transcendental -appearance. - -The speculative ideas of the reason, derived from the three kinds of -logical conclusion, the categorical, the hypothetical, and the -disjunctive, are threefold. - -(1.) The psychological idea, the idea of the soul, as a thinking -substance (the object hitherto of rational psychology). - -(2.) The cosmological idea, the idea of the world as including all -phenomena (the object hitherto of cosmology). - -(3.) The theological idea, the idea of God as the highest condition of -the possibility of all things (the object hitherto of rational -theology). - -But with these ideas, in which the reason attempts to apply the -categories of the understanding to the unconditioned, the reason becomes -unavoidably entangled in a semblance and an illusion. This -transcendental semblance, or this optical illusion of the reason, -exhibits itself differently in each of the different ideas. With the -psychological ideas the reason perpetrates a simple paralogism, while -with the cosmological it finds itself driven to contradictory -affirmations or antinomies, and, with the theological, it wanders about -in an empty ideal. - -(1.) _The psychological ideas, or the paralogisms of the pure reason._ - -Kant has attempted, under this rubric, to overthrow all rational -psychology as this had been previously apprehended. Rational psychology -has considered the soul as a thing called by that name with the -attribute of immateriality, as a simple substance with the attribute of -incorruptibility, as a numerically identical, intellectual substance -with the predicate of personality, as an unextended and thinking being -with the predicate of immortality. All these principles of rational -psychology, says Kant, are surreptitious; they are all derived from the -one premise, "I think;" but this premise is neither intuition nor -conception, but a simple consciousness, an act of the mind which -attends, connects, and bears in itself all representations and -conceptions. This thinking is now falsely taken as a real thing; the -being of the Ego as object is connected with the Ego as subject, and -that which is affirmed analytically of the latter is predicated -synthetically of the former. But in order to treat the Ego also as -object, and to be able to apply to it categories, it must be given -empirically, in an intuition, which is not the case. From all this it -follows that the proofs for immortality rest upon false conclusions. I -can, indeed, separate my pure thinking _ideally_ from the body; but -obviously, it does not follow from this that my thinking can exist -_really_ when separate from the body. The result which Kant derives from -his critick of rational psychology is this, viz., there is no rational -psychology as a _doctrine_ which can furnish us with any addition to our -self-knowledge, but only as a _discipline_, which places impassable -limits to the speculative reason in this field, in order that it may -neither throw itself into the bosom of a soulless materialism, nor lose -itself in the delusion of a groundless spiritualism. In this respect -rational psychology would rather remind us, that this refusal of our -reason to give a satisfactory answer to the questions which stretch -beyond this life, should be regarded as an intimation of the reason for -us to leave this fruitless and superfluous speculation, and apply our -self-knowledge to some fruitful and practical use. - -(2.) _The Antinomies of Cosmology._ - -The cosmological ideas cannot be fully attained without the aid of the -categories. (1) So far as the quantity of the world is concerned, space -and time are the original _quanta_ of all intuition. In a quantitative -respect, therefore, the cosmological idea must hold fast to something -concerning the totality of the times and spaces of the world. (2) In -respect of quality, the divisibility of matter must be regarded. (3) In -respect of relation, the complete series of causes must be sought for -the existing effects in the world. (4) In respect of modality, the -accidental according to its conditions, or the complete dependence of -the accidental in the phenomenon must be conceived. When, now, the -reason attempts to establish determinations respecting these problems, -it finds itself at once entangled in a contradiction with itself. -Directly contrary affirmations can be made with equal validity in -reference to each of these four points. We can show, upon grounds -equally valid, (1) the _thesis_, the world has a beginning in time and -limits in space; and the _antithesis_, the world has neither beginning -in time nor limit in space. (2) The thesis: every compound substance in -the world consists of simple parts, and there exists nothing else than -the simple and that which it composes; and the antithesis: no compound -thing consists of simple parts, and there exists nothing simple in the -world. (3) The thesis: causality according to the laws of nature, is not -the only one from which the phenomena of the world may be deduced, but -these may be explained through a causality in freedom; and the -antithesis: there is no freedom, but every thing in the world happens -only according to natural laws. Lastly, (4) the thesis: something -belongs to the world either as its part or its cause, which is an -absolutely necessary being; and the antithesis: there exists no -absolutely necessary being as cause of the world, either in the world or -without it. From this dialectic conflict of the cosmological ideas, -there follows at once the worthlessness of the whole struggle. - -(3.) _The ideal of the pure Reason or the idea of God._ - -Kant shows at first how the reason comes to the idea of a most real -being, and then turns himself against the efforts of previous -metaphysics to prove its valid existence. His critick of the arguments -employed to prove the existence of a God, is essentially the following. - -(_a._) _The Ontological proof._--The argument here is as follows: it is -possible that there is a most real being; now existence is implied in -the conception of all reality, and hence, existence necessarily belongs -to the conception of the most real being. But, answers Kant, existence -is not at all a reality, or real predicate which can be added to the -conception of a thing, but it is the position of a thing with all its -properties. A thing, however, may lose its existence, and still be -deprived of none of its properties. Hence if it have any property, it -does not at all follow that it possesses existence. Being is nothing but -the logical copula, which, does not in the least enlarge the content of -the subject. A hundred actual dollars, _e. g._ contain no more than a -hundred possible ones; there is only a difference between them in -reference to my own wealth. Thus the most real being may with perfect -propriety be conceived of as the most real, while at the same time it -should only be conceived of as possible, and not as actual. It was -therefore wholly unnatural, and a simple play of school wit, to take an -idea which had been arbitrarily formed, and deduce from it the existence -of its corresponding object. Any effort and toil which might be spent -upon this famous proof is thus only thrown away, and a man would become -no richer in knowledge out of simple ideas than a merchant would -increase his property by adding a number of ciphers to the balance of -his accounts. - -(_b._) _The Cosmological proof._--This, like the ontological, infers the -existence of an absolute being from the necessity of existence. If any -thing exist there must also exist an absolutely necessary being as its -cause. But now there exists at least I myself, and there must hence also -exist an absolutely necessary being as my cause. The last cosmological -antinomy is here brought in to criticise the argument at this stage. The -conclusion is erroneous, because from the phenomenal and the accidental -a necessary being above experience is inferred. Moreover, if we allow -the conclusion to be valid, it is still no God which it gives us. Hence -the farther inference is made: that being can alone be necessary which -includes all reality within itself. If now this proposition should be -reversed, and the affirmation made that that being which includes all -reality is absolutely necessary, then have we again the ontological -proof, and the cosmological falls with this. In the cosmological proof, -the reason uses the trick of bringing forth as a new argument an old one -with a changed dress, that it might seem to have the power of summoning -two witnesses. - -(_c._) _The Physico-theological proof._--If thus neither conception nor -experience can furnish a proof for the divine existence, there still -remains a third attempt, viz., to start from a determinate experience, -and endeavor to see whether the existence of a supreme being can not be -inferred from the arrangement and condition of things in the world. Such -is the physico-theological proof, which starts from the evidences of -design in nature, and directs its argument as follows: there is -evidently design in the universe; this is extraneous to the things of -the world, and adheres to them only contingently; there exists therefore -a necessary cause of this design which works with wisdom and -intelligence; this necessary cause must be the most real being; the most -real being has therefore necessary existence.--To this Kant answers: The -physico-theological proof is the oldest, clearest, and most conformable -to the common reason. But it is not demonstration (apodictic). It -infers, from the form of the world, a proportionate and sufficient cause -of this form; but in this way we only attain an originator of the form -of the world, and not an originator of its matter, a world-builder, and -not a world-creator. To help out with this difficulty the cosmological -proof is brought in, and the originator of the form becomes conceived as -the necessary being lying at the ground of the content. Thus we have an -absolute being whose perfection corresponds to that of the world. But in -the world there is no absolute perfection; we have therefore only a very -perfect being; to get the most perfect, we must revert again to the -ontological proof. Thus the teleological proof rests upon the -cosmological, while this in turn has its basis in the ontological, and -from this circle the metaphysical modes of proof cannot escape. - -From these considerations, it would follow that the ideal of a supreme -being is nothing other than a regulative principle of the reason, by -which it looks upon every connection in the world _as if_ it sprang from -an all-sufficient and necessary cause; in order that, in explaining this -connection, it may establish the rule of a systematic and necessary -unity, it being also true that in this process the reason through a -transcendental subreption cannot avoid representing to itself this -formal principle as constitutive, and this unity as personal. But in -truth this supreme being remains for the simply speculative use of the -reason, a mere but faultless ideal, a conception which is the summit and -the crown of the whole human knowledge, whose objective reality, though -it cannot be proved with apodictic certainty, can just as little be -disproved. - -With this critick of the ideas of the reason there is still another -question. If these ideas have no objective significance, why are they -found within us? Since they are necessary, they will doubtless have some -good purpose to subserve. What this purpose is, has already been -indicated in speaking of the theological idea. Though not constitutive, -yet are they regulative principles. We cannot better order the faculties -of our soul, than by acting "_as if_" there were a soul. The -cosmological idea leads us to consider the world "_as if_" the series of -causes were infinite, without, however, excluding an intelligent cause. -The theological idea enables us to look upon the world in all its -complexity, as a regulated unity. Thus, while these ideas of the reason -are not constitutive principles, by means of which our knowledge could -be widened beyond experience, they are regulative principles, by means -of which our experience may be ordered, and brought under certain -hypothetical unities. These three ideas, therefore, the psychological, -the cosmological, and the theological, do not form an organon for the -discovery of truth, but only a canon for the simplification and -systematizing of our experiences. - -Besides their regulative significance, these ideas of the reason have -also a practical importance. There is a sufficient certainty, not -objective, but subjective, which is especially of a practical nature, -and is called belief or confidence. If the freedom of the will, the -immortality of the soul, and the existence of a God, are three cardinal -principles, which, though not in any way contributing to our knowledge, -are yet pressed continually upon us by the reason, this difficulty is -removed in the practical field where these ideas have their peculiar -significance for the moral confidence. This confidence is not logical, -but moral certainty. Since it rests wholly upon subjective grounds, upon -the moral character, I cannot say it is morally certain that there is a -God, but only I am morally certain, &c. That is, the belief in a God and -in another world is so interwoven with my moral character, that I am in -just as much danger of losing this character as of being deprived of -this belief. We are thus brought to the basis of the PRACTICAL REASON. - -II. CRITICK OF THE PRACTICAL REASON.--With the Critick of the Practical -Reason, we enter a wholly different world, where the reason richly -recovers that of which it was deprived in the theoretical province. The -essential problem of the Critick of the Practical Reason is almost -diametrically different from that of the critick of the theoretical -reason. The object of investigation in the critick of the speculative -reason, was,--how can the pure reason know objects apriori; in the -practical reason it is,--how can the pure reason determine apriori the -will in respect of objects. The critick of the speculative reason -inquired after the cognizableness of objects apriori: the practical -reason has nothing to do with the cognizableness of objects, but only -with the determination of the will. Hence, in the latter critick, we -have an order directly the reverse of that which we find in the former. -As the original determinations of our theoretical knowledge are -intuitions, so the original determinations of our will are principles -and conceptions. The critick of the practical reason must, therefore, -start from moral principles, and only after these are firmly fixed, may -we inquire concerning the relation in which the practical reason stands -to the sensory. - -Freedom, says Kant, is given to us apriori as an inner fact, it is a -fact of the inner experience. While, therefore, the reason in the -theoretical field had only a negative result, because, when it would -attain to a true thing in itself it became transcendent, yet now in the -practical province it becomes positive through the idea of freedom, -because with the fact of freedom we have no need to go out beyond -ourselves, but possess a principle immanent to the reason. But why then -give a critick of practical reason? In order to determine the relation -of freedom to the sensory. Since the free will works through its acts -upon the sensory, there must be a point of contact between the two. This -is found in the sensuous motives of the will, which exist implanted in -it by nature, in the impulses and inclinations which, as the principle -of the empiric in opposition to the free or pure will, bear in -themselves the character of a want of freedom. Since, then, freedom -cannot be touched, a critick of the practical reason can only relate to -these empirical motives, in the sense of divesting these from the claim -of being exclusively the motives by which the will is determined. While, -therefore, in the theoretical reason the empirical element was immanent, -and the intelligible transcendent, the reverse is the case in the -practical reason, since here the empirical is transcendent, and the -intelligible immanent. It is the object of the Analytic to show the -relation of these two momenta of the will, and the highest moral -principle which springs therefrom, while it belongs to the Dialectic to -solve the antinomies which result from the contradiction of the pure and -empiric will. - -(1.) _The Analytic._--Freedom, as the one constituent element which shows -itself in the activity of our will, is the simple _form_ of our actions. -The universal law binding the will, is that it should determine itself -purely from itself, independently of every external incitement. This -capacity of self-lawgiving, or self-determining, Kant calls the -_autonomy of the will_. The free autonomic will says to man: thou -oughtest! and since this moral ought commands to an unconditioned -obedience, the moral imperative is a _categorical imperative_. What is -it now which is categorically commanded by the practical reason? To -answer this question, we must first consider the empirical will, _i. e._ -the nature-side of man. - -The empirical, as the other constituent element of our will, first -produces a definite deed when it has filled the empty _form_ of action -with the _matter_ of action. The matter of the will is furnished by the -sensory in the desire of pleasure and the dread of pain. Since this -second principle of our actions does not find its seat in the freedom of -the will as the higher faculty of desire, but in the sensory, as the -lower faculty of desire, and a foreign law is thus laid upon the -will,--Kant calls it, in opposition to the autonomy of the reason, the -_heteronomy of the will_. - -The categorical imperative is the necessary law of freedom binding upon -all men, and is distinguished from material motives, in that the latter -have no fixed character. For men are at variance in respect of pleasure -and pain, since that which is disagreeable to one may seem pleasant to -another, and if they ever agree, this is simply accidental. -Consequently, these material motives can never act the part of laws -binding upon every being, but each subject may find his end in a -different motive. Such rules of acting, Kant calls _maxims_ of the will. -He also censures those moralists who have exalted such maxims as -universal principles of morality. - -Nevertheless, these maxims, though not the highest principles of -morality, are yet necessary to the autonomy of the will, because they -alone furnish for it a content. It is only by uniting the two sides, -that we gain the true principle of morality. To this end the maxims of -acting must be freed from their limitation, and widened to the form of -universal laws of the reason. Only those maxims should be chosen as -motives of action which are capable of becoming universal laws of the -reason. _The highest principle of morality_ will therefore be this: act -so that the maxims of thy will can at the same time be valid as the -principle of a universal lawgiving, _i.e._ that no contradiction shall -arise in the attempt to conceive the maxims of thy acting as a law -universally obeyed. Through this formal moral principle all material -moral principles which can only be of a heteronomic nature, are -excluded. - -The question next arises--what impels the will to act conformably to this -highest moral law? Kant answers: the moral law itself, apprehended and -revered, must be the only moving spring of the human will. If an act -which in itself might be conformable to the moral law, be done only -through some impulse to happiness arising simply from an inclination of -the sense, if it be not done purely for the sake of the law, then have -we simply _legality_ and not _morality_. That which is included in every -inclination of the sense is self-love and self-conceit, and of these the -former is restricted by the moral law, and the latter wholly stricken -down. But that which strikes down our self-conceit and humbles us must -appear to us in the highest degree worthy of esteem. But this is done by -the moral law. Consequently the positive feeling which we shall cherish -in respect of the moral law will be reverence. This reverence, though a -feeling, is neither sensuous nor pathological, for it stands opposed to -these; but is rather an intellectual feeling, since it arises from the -notion of the practical law of the reason. On the one side as -subordination to law, the reverence includes pain; on the other side, -since the coercion can only be exercised through the proper reason, it -includes pleasure. Reverence is the single sensation befitting man in -reference to the moral law. Man, as creature of sense, cannot rest on -any inner inclination to the moral law, for he has ever inclinations -within him which resist the law; love to the law can only be considered -as something ideal.--Thus the moral purism of Kant, or his effort to -separate every impulse of the sense from the motives to action, merges -into rigorism, or the dark view that duty can never be done except with -resistance. A similar exaggeration belongs to the well-known epigram of -Schiller, who answers the following scruple of conscience-- - - The friends whom I love, I gladly would serve, - But to this inclination incites me; - And so I am forced from virtue to swerve - Since my act, through affection, delights me-- - -with the following decision: - - The friends whom thou lov'st, thou must first seek to scorn, - For to no other way can I guide thee: - 'Tis alone with disgust thou canst rightly perform - The acts to which duty would lead thee. - -(2.) _The Dialectic._--The pure reason has always its dialectics, since -it belongs to the nature of the reason to demand the unconditioned for -the given conditioned. Hence also the practical reason seeks an -unconditioned highest good for that conditioned good after which man -strives. What is this highest good? If we understand by the highest good -the fundamental condition of all other goods, then it is virtue. But -virtue is not the perfect good, since the finite reason as sensitive -stands in need also of happiness. Hence the highest good is only perfect -when the highest happiness is joined to the highest virtue. The question -now arises: what is the relation of these two elements of the highest -good to each other? Are they analytically or synthetically connected -together? The former would be affirmed by most of the ancients, -especially by the Greek moral philosophers. We might allow with the -Stoics, that happiness is contained as an accidental element in virtue, -or, with the Epicureans, that virtue is contained as an accidental -element in happiness. The Stoics said: to be conscious of one's virtue -is happiness; the Epicureans said: to be conscious of the maxims leading -one to happiness is virtue. But, says Kant, an analytic connection -between these two conceptions is not possible, since they are wholly -different in kind. Consequently there can be between them only a -synthetic unity, and this unity more closely scanned is seen to be a -causal one, so that the one element is cause, and the other effect. Such -a relation must be regarded as its highest good by the practical reason, -whose thesis must therefore be: virtue and happiness must be bound -together in a correspondent degree as cause and effect. But this thesis -is all thwarted by the actual fact. Neither of the two is the direct -cause of the other. Neither is the striving after happiness a moving -spring to virtue, nor is virtue the efficient cause of happiness. Hence -the antithesis: virtue and happiness do not necessarily correspond, and -are not universally connected as cause and effect. The critical solution -of this antinomy Kant finds in distinguishing between the sensible and -the intelligible world. In the world of sense, virtue and happiness do -not, it is true, correspond; but the reason as _noumenon_ is also a -citizen of a supersensible world, where the counter-strife between -virtue and happiness has no place. In this supersensible world virtue is -always adequate to happiness, and when man passes over into this he may -look for the actualization of the highest good. But the highest good -has, as already remarked, two elements, (1) highest virtue, (2) highest -happiness. The actualization demanded for the first of these elements -postulates the _immortality of the soul_, and for the second, _the -existence of God_. - -(_a._) To the highest good belongs in the first place perfect virtue or -holiness. But no creature of sense can be holy: reason united to sense -can only approximate holiness as an ideal in an endless progression. But -such an endless progress is only possible in an endless continuance of -personal existence. If, therefore, the highest good shall ever be -actualized, the immortality of the soul must be presupposed. - -(_b._) To the highest good belongs, in the second place, perfect -happiness. Happiness is that condition of a rational creature in the -world, to whom every thing goes according to his desire and will. This -can only occur when all nature is in accord with his ends. But this is -not the case; as acting beings we are not the cause of nature, and there -is not the slightest ground in the moral law for connecting morality and -happiness. Notwithstanding this, we _ought_ to endeavor to secure the -highest good. It must therefore be possible. There is thus postulated -the necessary connection of these two elements, _i. e._ the existence of -a cause of nature distinct from nature, and which contains the ground of -this connection. There must be a being as the common cause of the -natural and moral world, a being who knows our characters of -intelligence, and who, according to this intelligence imparts to us -happiness. Such a being is God. - -Thus from the practical reason there issue the ideas of immortality and -of God, as we have already seen to be the case with the idea of freedom. -The reality of the idea of freedom is derived from the possibility of a -moral law; that of the idea of immortality is borrowed from the -possibility of a perfect virtue; that of the idea of a God follows from -the necessary demand of a perfect happiness. These three ideas, -therefore, which the speculative reason has treated as problems that -could not be solved, gain a firm basis in the province of the practical -reason. Still they are not yet theoretical dogmas, but as Kant calls -them practical postulates, necessary premises of moral action. My -theoretical knowledge is not enlarged by them: I only know now that -there are objects corresponding to these ideas, but of these objects I -can know no more. Of God, for instance, we possess and know no more than -this very conception; and if we should attempt to establish the theory -of the supersensible grounded upon such categories, this would be to -make theology like a magic lantern, with its phantasmagorical -representations. Yet has the practical reason acquired for us a -certainty respecting the objective reality of these ideas, which the -theoretical reason had been obliged to leave undecided, and in this -respect the practical reason has the primacy. This relation of the two -faculties of knowledge is wisely established in relation to the destiny -of men. Since the ideas of God and immortality are theoretically obscure -to us, they do not defile our moral motives by fear and hope, but leave -us free space to act through reverence for the moral law. - -Thus far Kant's Critick of the Practical Reason. In connection with this -we may here mention his _views of religion_ as they appear in his -treatise upon "_Religion within the Bounds of Pure Reason_." The chief -idea of this treatise is the referring of religion to morality. Between -morality and religion there may be the twofold relation, that either -morality is founded upon religion, or else religion upon morality. If -the first relation were real, it would give us fear and hope as -principles of moral action; but this cannot be, and we are therefore -left alone to the second. Morality leads necessarily to religion, -because the highest good is a necessary ideal of the reason, and this -can only be realized through a God; but in no way may religion first -incite us to virtue, for the idea of God may never become a moral -motive. Religion, according to Kant, is the recognition of all our -duties as divine commands. It is revealed religion when I find in it the -divine command, and thus learn my duty; it is natural religion when I -find in it my duty, and thus learn the divine command. The Church is an -ethical community, which has for its end the fulfilment and the most -perfect exhibition of moral commands,--a union of those who with united -energies purpose to resist evil and advance morality. The Church, in so -far as it is no object of a possible experience, is called the invisible -Church, which, as such, is a simple idea of the union of all the -righteous under the divine moral government of the world. The visible -Church, on the other hand, is that which presents the kingdom of God -upon earth, so far as this can be attained through men. The requisites, -and hence also the characteristics of the true visible Church (which are -divided according to the table of the categories since this Church is -given in experience) are the following: (_a_) In respect of _quantity_ -the Church must be total or _universal_; and though it may be divided in -accidental opinions, yet must it be instituted upon such principles as -will necessarily lead to a universal union in one single church. (_b_) -The _quality_ of the true visible Church is _purity_, as a union under -no other than moral motives, since it is at the same time purified from -the stupidness of superstition and the madness of fanaticism. (_c_) The -_relation_ of the members of the Church to each other rests upon the -principle of freedom. The Church is, therefore, a _free state_, neither -a hierarchy nor a democracy, but a voluntary, universal, and enduring -union of heart. (_d_) In respect of _modality_ the Church demands that -its constitution should not be changed. The laws themselves may not -change, though one may reserve to himself the privilege of changing some -accidental arrangements which relate simply to the administration.--That -alone which can establish a universal Church is the moral faith of the -reason, for this alone can be shared by the convictions of every man. -But, because of the peculiar weakness of human nature, we can never -reckon enough on this pure faith to build a Church on it alone, for men -are not easily convinced that the striving after virtue and an -irreproachable life is every thing which God demands: they always -suppose that they must offer to God a special service prescribed by -tradition, in which it only comes to this--that he is served. - -To establish a Church, we must therefore have a statutory faith -historically grounded upon facts. This is the so-called faith of the -Church, In every Church there are therefore two elements--the purely -moral, or the faith of reason, and the historico-statutory, or the faith -of the Church. It depends now upon the relation of the two elements -whether a Church shall have any worth or not. The statutory element -should ever be only the vehicle of the moral. Just so soon as this -element becomes in itself an independent end, claiming an independent -validity, will the Church become corrupt and irrational, and whenever -the Church passes over to the pure faith of reason, does it approximate -to the kingdom of God. Upon this principle we may distinguish the true -from the spurious service of the kingdom of God, religion from -priestcraft. A dogma has worth alone in so far as it has a moral -content. The apostle Paul himself would with difficulty have given -credit to the dicta of the faith of the Church without this moral faith. -From the doctrine of the Trinity, _e. g._ taken literally, nothing -actually practical can be derived. Whether we have to reverence in the -Godhead three persons or ten makes no difference, if in both cases we -have the same rules for our conduct of life. The Bible also, with its -interpretation, must be considered in a moral point of view. The records -of revelation must be interpreted in a sense which will harmonize with -the universal rules of the religion of reason. Reason is in religious -things the highest interpreter of the Bible. This interpretation in -reference to some texts may seem forced, yet it must be preferred to any -such literal interpretation as would contain nothing for morality, or -perhaps go against every moral motive. That such a moral signification -may always be found without ever entirely repudiating the literal sense, -results from the fact that the foundation for a moral religion lay -originally in the human reason. We need only to divest the -representations of the Bible of their mythical dress (an attempt which -Kant has himself made, by moral explanation of some of the weightiest -doctrines), in order to attain a rational sense which shall be -universally valid. The historical element of the sacred books is in -itself of no account. The maturer the reason becomes, the more it can -hold fast for itself the moral sense, so much the more unnecessary will -be the statutory institutions of the faith of the Church. The transition -of the faith of the Church to the pure faith of reason is the -approximation to the kingdom of God, to which, however, we can only -approach nearer and nearer in an infinite progress. The actual -realization of the kingdom of God is the end of the world, the cessation -of history. - -III. CRITICK OF THE FACULTY OF JUDGMENT.--The conception of this science -Kant gives in the following manner. The two faculties of the human mind -hitherto considered were the faculty of knowledge and that of desire. It -was proved in the Critick of pure Reason, that the understanding only as -faculty of knowledge included constitutive principles apriori; and it -was shown in the Critick of Practical Reason, that the reason possesses -constitutive principles apriori, simply in reference to the faculty of -desire. Whether now the _faculty of judgment_, as the middle link -between understanding and reason, can take its object--the feeling of -pleasure and pain as the middle link between the faculty of knowledge -and that of desire--and furnish it apriori with principles which shall be -for themselves constitutive and not simply regulative: this is the point -upon which the Critick of the Faculty of Judgment has to turn. - -The faculty of judgment is the middle link between the understanding as -the faculty of conceptions, and the reason as the faculty of principles. -In this position it has the following functions: The speculative reason -had taught us to consider the world only according to natural laws; the -practical reason had inferred for us a moral world, in which every thing -is determined through freedom. There was thus a gulf between the kingdom -of nature and that of freedom, which could not be passed unless the -faculty of judgment should furnish a conception which should unite the -two sides. That it is entitled to do this lies in the very conception of -the faculty of judgment. Since it is the faculty of conceiving the -particular as contained under the universal, it thus refers the -empirical manifoldness of nature to a supersensible, transcendental -principle, which embraces in itself the ground for the unity of the -manifold. The object of the faculty of judgment is, therefore, the -conception of _design_ in nature; for the evidence of this points to -that supersensible unity which contains the ground for the actuality of -an object. And since all design and every actualization of an end is -connected with pleasure, we may farther explain the faculty of judgment -by saying, that it contains the laws for the feeling of pleasure and -pain. - -The evidence of design in nature can be represented either subjectively -or objectively. In the first case I perceive pleasure and pain, -immediately through the representation of an object, before I have -formed a conception of it; my delight, in this instance, can only be -referred to a designed harmony of relation, between the form of an -object, and my faculty of beholding. The faculty of judgment viewed thus -subjectively, is called the _aesthetic faculty_. In the second case, I -form to myself at the outset, a conception of the object, and then judge -whether the form of the object corresponds to this conception. In order -to find a flower that is beautiful to my beholding, I do not need to -have a conception of the flower; but, if I would see a design in it, -then a conception is necessary. The faculty of judgment, viewed as -capacity to judge of these objective designs, is called the -_teleological faculty_. - -1. CRITICK OF THE AESTHETIC FACULTY OF JUDGMENT. (1.) _Analytic._--The -analytic of the aesthetic faculty of judgment is divided into two parts, -the analytic of the _beautiful_, and the analytic of the _sublime_. - -In order to discover what is required in naming an object _beautiful_, -we must analyze the judgment of taste, as the faculty for deciding upon -the beautiful. (_a_) In respect of quality, the beautiful is the object -of a pure, uninterested satisfaction. This disinterestedness enables us -to distinguish between the satisfaction in the beautiful, and the -satisfaction in the agreeable and the good. In the agreeable and the -good I am interested; my satisfaction in the agreeable is connected with -a sensation of desire; my satisfaction in the good is, at the same time, -a motive for my will to actualize it. My satisfaction in the beautiful -alone is without interest. (_b_) In respect of quantity, the beautiful -is that which universally pleases. In respect of the agreeable, every -one decides that his satisfaction in it is only a personal one; but if -any one should affirm of a picture, that it is beautiful, he would -expect that not only he, but every other one, would also find it so. -Nevertheless, this judgment of the taste does not arise from -conceptions; its universal validity is therefore purely subjective. I do -not judge that all the objects of a species are beautiful, but only that -a certain specific object will appear beautiful to every beholder. All -the judgments of taste are individual judgments. (_c_) In respect of -relation, that is beautiful in which we find the form of design, without -representing to ourselves any specific design. (_d_) In respect of -modality, that is beautiful which is recognized without a conception, as -the object of a necessary satisfaction. Of every representation, it is -at least possible, that it may awaken pleasure. The representation of -the agreeable awakens actual pleasure. The representation of the -beautiful, on the other hand, awakens pleasure necessarily. The -necessity which is conceived in an aesthetic judgment, is a necessity for -determining every thing by a judgment, which can be viewed as an example -of a universal rule, though the rule itself cannot be stated. The -subjective principle which lies at the basis of the judgment of taste, -is therefore a common sense, which determines what is pleasing, and what -displeasing, only through feeling, and not through conception. - -The _sublime_ is that which is absolutely, or beyond all comparison, -great, compared with which every thing else is small. But now in nature -there is nothing which has no greater. The absolutely great is only the -infinite, and the infinite is only to be met with in ourselves, as idea. -The sublime, therefore, is not properly found in nature, but is only -carried over to nature from our own minds. We call that sublime in -nature, which awakens within us the idea of the infinite. As in the -beautiful there is prominent reference to quality, so, in the sublime, -the most important element of all, is quantity; and this quantity is -either greatness of extension (the mathematically sublime), or greatness -of power (the dynamically sublime). In the sublime there is a greater -satisfaction in the formless, than in the form. The sublime excites a -vigorous movement of the heart, and awakens pleasure only through pain, -_i. e._ through the feeling that the energies of life are for the moment -restrained. The satisfaction in the sublime is hence not so much a -positive pleasure, but rather an amazement and awe, which may be called -a negative pleasure. The elements for an aesthetic judgment of the -sublime are the same as in the feeling of the beautiful. (_a_) In -respect of quantity, that is sublime which is absolutely great, in -comparison with which every thing else is small. The aesthetic estimate -of greatness does not lie, however, in numeration, but in the simple -intuition of the subject. The greatness of an object of nature, which -the imagination attempts in vain to comprehend, leads to a supersensible -substratum, which is great beyond all the measures of the sense, and -which has reference properly to the feeling of the sublime. It is not -the object itself, as the surging sea, which is sublime, but rather the -subject's frame of mind, in the estimation of this object. (_b_) In -respect of quality, the sublime does not awaken pure pleasure, like the -beautiful, but first pain, and through this, pleasure. The feeling of -the insufficiency of our imagination, in the aesthetic estimate of -greatness, gives rise to pain; but, on the other side, the consciousness -of our independent reason, for which the faculty of imagination is -inadequate, awakens pleasure. In this respect, therefore, that is -sublime which immediately pleases us, through its opposition to the -interest of the sense. (_c_) In respect of relation, the sublime suffers -nature to appear as a power, indeed, but in reference to which, we have -the consciousness of superiority. (_d_) In respect of modality, the -judgments concerning the sublime are as necessarily valid, as those for -the beautiful; only with this difference, that our judgment of the -sublime finds an entrance to some minds, with greater difficulty than -our judgment of the beautiful, since to perceive the sublime, culture, -and developed moral ideas, are necessary. - -(2.) _Dialectic._--A dialectic of the aesthetic faculty of judgment, like -every dialectic, is only possible where we can meet with judgments which -lay claim to universality apriori. For dialectics consists in the -opposition of such judgments. The antinomy of the principles of taste -rests upon the two opposite elements of the judgment of taste, that it -is purely subjective, and at the same time, lays claim to universal -validity. Hence, the two common-place sayings: "there is no disputing -about taste," and "there is a contest of taste." From these, we have the -following antinomy. (_a_) Thesis: the judgment of taste cannot be -grounded on conception, else might we dispute it. (_b_) Antithesis: the -judgment of taste must be grounded on conception, else, notwithstanding -its diversity, there could be no contest respecting it.--This antinomy, -says Kant, is, however, only an apparent one, and disappears as soon as -the two propositions are more accurately apprehended. The thesis should -be: the judgment of taste is not grounded upon a definite conception, -and is not strictly demonstrable; the antithesis should be: this -judgment is grounded upon a conception, though an indefinite one, viz., -upon the conception of a supersensible substratum for the phenomenal. -Thus apprehended, there is no longer any contradiction between the two -propositions. - -In the conclusion of the aesthetic faculty of judgment, we can now answer -the question, whether the fitness of things to our faculty of judgment -(their beauty and sublimity), lies in the things themselves, or in us? -The aesthetic realism claims that the supreme cause of nature designed to -produce things which should affect our imagination, as beautiful and -sublime, and the organic forms of nature strongly support this view. But -on the other band, nature exhibits even in her merely mechanical forms, -such a tendency to the beautiful, that we might believe that she could -produce also the most beautiful organic forms through mechanism alone; -and that thus the design would lie not in nature, but in our soul. This -is the standpoint of idealism, upon which it becomes explicable how we -can determine any thing apriori concerning beauty and sublimity. But the -highest view of the aesthetical, is to use it as a symbol of the moral -good. Thus Kant makes the theory of taste, like religion, to be a -corollary of morality. - -2. CRITICK OF THE TELEOLOGICAL FACULTY OF JUDGMENT.--In the foregoing, we -have considered the subjective aesthetical design in the objects of -nature. But the objects of nature have also a relation of design to each -other. The teleological faculty of judgment has also to consider this -faculty of design. - -(1.) _Analytic of the Teleological Faculty of Judgment._--The analytic -has to determine the kinds of objective design. Objective, material -design, is of two kinds, external, and internal. The external design is -only relative, since it simply indicates a usefulness of one thing for -another. Sand, for instance, which borders the sea shore, is of use in -bearing pine forests. In order that animals can live upon the earth, the -earth must produce nourishment for them, etc. These examples of external -design, show that here the design never belongs to the means in itself, -but only accidentally. We should never get a conception of the sand by -saying that it is a means for pine forests; it is conceivable for -itself, without any reference to the conception of design. The earth -does not produce nourishment, because it is necessary that men should -dwell upon it. In brief, this external or relative design may be -conceived from the mechanism of nature alone. Not so the inner design of -nature, which shows itself prominently in the organic products of -nature. In an organic product of nature, every one of its parts is end, -and every one, means or instrument. In the process of generation, the -natural product appears as species, in growth it appears as individual, -and in the process of complete formation, every part of the individual -shows itself. This natural organism cannot be explained from mechanical -causes, but only through final causes, or teleologically. - -(2.) _Dialectic._--The dialectic of the teleological faculty of judgment, -has to adjust this opposition between this mechanism of nature and -teleology. On the one side we have the thesis: every production of -material things must be judged as possible, according to simple -mechanical laws. On the other side we have the antithesis: certain -products of material nature cannot be judged as possible, according to -simple mechanical laws, but demand the conception of design for their -explanation. If these two maxims are posited as constitutive (objective) -principles for the possibility of the objects themselves, then do they -contradict each other, but as simply regulative (subjective) principles -for the investigation of nature, they are not contradictory. Earlier -systems treated the conception of design in nature dogmatically, and -either affirmed or denied its essential existence in nature. But we, -convinced that teleology is only a regulative principle, have nothing to -do with the question whether an inner design belongs essentially to -nature or not, but we only affirm that our faculty of judgment must look -upon nature as designed. We envisage the conception of design in nature, -but leave it wholly undecided whether to another understanding, which -does not think discursively like ours, nature may not be understood, -without at all needing to bring in this conception of design. Our -understanding thinks discursively: it proceeds from the parts, and -comprehends the whole as the product of its parts; it cannot, therefore, -conceive the organic products of nature, where the whole is the ground -and the prius of the parts, except from the point of view of the -conception of design. If there were, on the other hand, an intuitive -understanding, which could know the particular and the parts as -co-determined in the universal and the whole; such an understanding -might conceive the whole of nature out of one principle, and would not -need the conception of end. - -If Kant had thoroughly carried out this conception of an intuitive -understanding as well as the conception of an immanent design in nature, -he would have overcome, in principle, the standpoint of subjective -idealism, which he made numerous attempts, in his critick of the faculty -of judgment, to break through; but these ideas he only propounded, and -left them to be positively carried out by his successors. - - - - -SECTION XXXIX. - -TRANSITION TO THE POST-KANTIAN PHILOSOPHY. - - -The Kantian philosophy soon gained in Germany an almost undisputed rule. -The imposing boldness of its standpoint, the novelty of its results, the -applicability of its principles, the moral severity of its view of the -world, and above all, the spirit of freedom and moral autonomy which -appeared in it, and which was so directly counter to the efforts of that -age, gained for it an assent as enthusiastic as it was extended. It -aroused among all cultivated classes a wider interest and participation -in philosophic pursuits, than had ever appeared in an equal degree among -any people. In a short time it had drawn to itself a very numerous -school: there were soon few German universities in which it had not had -its talented representatives, while in every department of science and -literature, especially in theology (it is the parent of theological -rationalism), and in natural rights, as also in belles-lettres -(_Schiller_), it began to exert its influence. Yet most of the writers -who appeared in the Kantian school, confined themselves to an exposition -or popular application of the doctrine as Kant had given it, and even -the most talented and independent among the defenders and improvers of -the critical philosophy (_e. g. Reinhold_, 1758-1823; _Bardili_, -1761-1808; _Schulze_, _Beck_, _Fries_, _Krug_, _Bouterweck_), only -attempted to give a firmer basis to the Kantian philosophy as they had -received it, to obviate some of its wants and deficiencies, and to carry -out the standpoint of transcendental idealism more purely and -consistently. Among those who carried out the Kantian philosophy, only -two men, _Fichte_ and _Herbart_, can be named, who made by their actual -advance an epoch in philosophy; and among its opposers (_e. g. Hamann_, -_Herder_), only one, _Jacobi_, is of philosophic importance. These three -philosophers are hence the first objects for us to consider. In order to -a more accurate development of their principles, we preface a brief and -general characteristic of their relation to the Kantian philosophy. - -1. Dogmatism had been critically annihilated by Kant; his Critick of -pure Reason had for its result the theoretical indemonstrableness of the -three ideas of the reason, God, freedom, and immortality. True, these -ideas which, from the standpoint of theoretical knowledge, had been -thrust out, Kant had introduced again as postulates of the practical -reason; but as postulates, as only practical premises, they possess no -theoretic certainty, and remain exposed to doubt. In order to do away -with this uncertainty, and this despairing of knowledge which had seemed -to be the end of the Kantian philosophy, _Jacobi_, a younger cotemporary -of Kant, placed himself upon the standpoint of the faith philosophy in -opposition to the standpoint of criticism. Though these highest ideas of -the reason, the eternal and the divine, cannot be reached and proved by -means of demonstration, yet is it the very essence of the divine that it -is indemonstrable and unattainable for the understanding. In order to be -certain of the highest, of that which lies beyond the understanding, -there is only one organ, viz., feeling. In feeling, therefore, in -immediate knowledge, in faith, Jacobi thought he had found that -certainty which Kant had sought in vain on the basis of discursive -thinking. - -2. While Jacobi stood in an antithetic relation to the Kantian -philosophy, _Fichte_ appears as its immediate consequence. Fichte -carried out to its consequence the Kantian dualism, according to which -the Ego, as theoretic, is subjected to the external world, while as -practical, it is its master, or, in other words, according to which the -Ego stands related to the objective world, now receptively and again -spontaneously. He allowed the reason to be exclusively practical, as -will alone, and spontaneity alone, and apprehended its theoretical and -receptive relation to the objective world as only a circumscribed -activity, as a limitation prescribed to itself by the reason. But for -the reason, so far as it is practical, there is nothing objective except -as it is produced. The will knows no being but only an ought. Hence the -objective being of truth is universally denied, and the thing which is -essentially unknown must fall away of itself as an empty shadow. "Every -thing which is, is the Ego," is the principle of the Fichtian system, -and represents at the same time the subjective idealism in its -consequence and completion. - -3. While the subjective idealism of Fichte was carried out in the -objective idealism of Schelling, and the absolute idealism of Hegel, -there arose cotemporaneously with these systems a third offshoot of the -Kantian criticism, viz., the philosophy of _Herbart_. It had its -subjective origin in the Kantian philosophy, but its objective and -historic connection with Kant is slight. It breaks up all historic -continuity, and holds an isolated position in the history of philosophy. -Its general basis is Kantian, in so far as it makes for its problem a -critical investigation of the subjective experience. We place it between -Fichte and Schelling. - - - - -SECTION XL. - -JACOBI. - - -Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi was born at Duesseldorf in 1743. His father -destined him for a merchant. After he had studied in Geneva and become -interested in philosophy, he entered his father's mercantile -establishment, but afterwards abandoned this business, having been made -chancellor of the exchequer and customs commissioner for Cleves and -Berg, and also privy councillor at Duesseldorf. In this city, or at his -neighboring estate of Pempelfort, he spent a great part of his life -devoted to philosophy and his friends. In the year 1804 he was called to -the newly-formed Academy of Sciences in Munich. In 1807 he was chosen -president of this institution, a post which he filled till his death in -1819. Jacobi had a rich intellect and an amiable character. Besides -being a philosopher, he was also a poet and citizen of the world; and -hence we find in his philosophizing an absence of strict logical -arrangement and precise expression of thought. His writings are no -systematic whole, but are occasional treatises written "rhapsodically -and in grasshopper gait," for the most part in the form of letters, -dialogues, and romances. "It was never my purpose," he says himself, "to -set up a system for the schools. My writings have sprung from my -innermost life, and were the result of that which had taken place within -me. In a certain sense I did not make them voluntarily, but they were -drawn out of me by a higher power irresistible to myself." This want of -an inner principle of classification and of a systematic arrangement, -renders a development of Jacobi's philosophy not easy. It may best be -represented under the following three points of view:--1. Jacobi's -polemic against mediate knowledge. 2. His principle of immediate -knowledge. 3. His relation to the cotemporaneous philosophy, especially -to the Kantian criticism. - -1. Spinoza was the negative starting point of Jacobi's philosophizing. -In his work "_On the Doctrine of Spinoza, in letters to Moses -Mendelssohn_" (1785), he directed public attention again to the almost -wholly forgotten philosophy of Spinoza. The correspondence originated -thus: Jacobi made the discovery that Lessing was a Spinozist, and -announces this to Mendelssohn. The latter will not believe it, and -thence grew the farther historical and philosophical examination. The -positive philosophic views which Jacobi exhibits in this treatise can be -reduced to the following three principles: (1) Spinozism is fatalism and -atheism. (2) Every path of philosophic demonstration leads to fatalism -and atheism. (3) In order that we may not fall into these, we must set a -limit to demonstrating, and recognize faith as the element of all -metaphysic knowledge. - -(1.) Spinozism is atheism, because, according to it, the cause of the -world is no person--is no being working for an end, and endowed with -reason and will--and hence is no God. It is fatalism, for, according to -it, the human will regards itself only falsely as free. - -(2.) This atheism and fatalism is, however, only the necessary -consequence of all strictly demonstrative philosophizing. To conceive a -thing, says Jacobi, is to refer a thing to its nearest cause; it is to -find a possible for an actual, the condition for a conditioned, the -mediation for an immediate. We conceive only that which we can explain -out of another. Hence our conceiving moves in a chain of conditioned -conditions, and this connection forms a mechanism of nature, in whose -investigation our understanding has its immeasurable field. However far -we may carry conception and demonstration, we must hold, in reference to -every object, to a still higher one which conditions it; where this -chain of the conditioned ceases, there do conception and demonstration -also cease; till we give up demonstrating we can reach no infinite. If -philosophy determines to apprehend the infinite with the finite -understanding, then must it bring down the divine to the finite; and -here is where every preceding philosophy has been entangled, while it is -obviously an absurd undertaking to attempt to discover the conditions of -the unconditioned, and make the absolutely necessary a possible, in -order that we may be able to construct it. A God who could be proved is -no God, for the ground of proof is ever above that which is to be -proved; the latter has its whole reality from the former. If the -existence of God should be proved, then God would be derived from a -ground which were before and above him. Hence the paradox of Jacobi; it -is for the interest of science that there be no God, no supernatural and -no extra or supramundane being. Only upon the condition that nature -alone is, and is therefore independent and all in all, can science hope -to gain its goal of perfection, and become, like its object itself, all -in all. Hence the result which Jacobi derives from the "Drama of the -history of philosophy" is this:--"There is no other philosophy than that -of Spinoza. He who considers all the works and acts of men to be the -effect of natural mechanism, and who believes that intelligence is but -an accompanying consciousness, which has only to act the part of a -looker-on, cannot be contended with and cannot be helped till we set him -free from his philosophy. No philosophical conclusion can reach him, for -what he denies cannot be philosophically proved, and what he proves -cannot be philosophically denied." Whence then is help to come? "The -understanding, taken by itself, is materialistic and irrational; it -denies spirit and God. The reason taken by itself is idealistic, and has -nothing to do with the understanding; it denies nature and makes itself -God." - -(3.) Hence we must seek another way of knowing the supersensible, which -is faith. Jacobi calls this flight from cognition through conception to -faith, the _salto mortale_ of the human reason. Every certainty through -a conception demands another certainty, but in faith we are led to an -immediate certainty which needs no ground nor proof, and which is in -fact absolutely exclusive of all proof. Such a confidence which does not -arise from arguments, is called faith. We know the sensible as well as -the supersensible only through faith. All human knowledge springs from -revelation and faith. - -These principles which Jacobi brought out in his letters concerning -Spinoza, did not fail to arouse a universal opposition in the German -philosophical world. It was charged upon him that he was an enemy of -reason, a preacher of blind faith, a despiser of science and of -philosophy, a fanatic and a papist. To rebut these attacks, and to -justify his standpoint, he wrote in 1787, a year and a half after the -first appearance of the work already named, his dialogue entitled -"_David Hume_, or _Faith, Idealism, and Realism_," in which he developes -more extensively and definitely his principle of faith or immediate -knowledge. - -2. Jacobi distinguished his faith at the outset from a blind credence in -authority. A blind faith is that which supports itself on a foreign -view, instead of on the grounds of reason. But this is not the case with -his faith, which rather rests upon the innermost necessity of the -subject itself. Still farther: his faith is not an arbitrary -imagination: we can imagine to ourselves every thing possible, but in -order to regard a thing as actual, there must be an inexplicable -necessity of our feeling, which we cannot otherwise name than faith. -Jacobi was not constant in his terminology, and hence did not always -express himself alike in respect of the relation in which faith stood to -the different sides of the human faculty of knowledge. In his earlier -terminology he placed faith (or as he also called it, the power of -faith), on the side of the sense or the receptivity, and let it stand -opposed to the understanding and the reason, taking these two terms as -equivalent expressions for the finite and immediate knowledge of -previous philosophy; afterwards he followed Kant, and, distinguishing -between the reason and the understanding, he called that reason which he -had previously named sense and faith. According to him now, the faith or -intuition of the reason is the organ for perceiving the supersensible. -As such, it stands opposed to the understanding. There must be a higher -faculty which can learn, in a way inconceivable to sense and the -understanding, that which is true in and above the phenomena. Over -against the explaining understanding stands the reason, or the natural -faith of the reason, which does not explain, but positively reveals and -unconditionally decides. As there is an intuition of the sense, so is -there a rational intuition through the reason, and a demonstration has -no more validity in respect of the latter than in respect of the former. -Jacobi justifies his use of the term, intuition of the reason, from the -want of any other suitable designation. Language has no other expression -to indicate the way in which that, which is unattainable to the sense, -becomes apprehended in the transcendental feeling. If any one affirms -that he knows any thing, he may properly be required to state the origin -of his knowledge, and in doing this, he must of necessity go back either -to sensation or to feeling; the latter stands above the former as high -as the human species above the brute. So I affirm, then, without -hesitation, says Jacobi, that my philosophy starts from pure feeling, -and declares the authority of this to be supreme. The faculty of feeling -is the highest in man, and that alone which specifically distinguishes -him from the brute. This faculty is one and the same with reason; or, -reason may be said to find in it its single and only starting point. - -Jacobi had the clearest consciousness of the opposition in which he -stood, with this principle of immediate knowledge, to previous -philosophy. In his introduction to his complete works, he says: "There -had arisen since the time of Aristotle an increasing effort in -philosophical schools, to subject the immediate knowledge to the -mediate, to make that faculty of perception which originally establishes -every thing, dependent on the faculty of reflection, which is -conditioned through abstraction; to subordinate the archetype to the -copy, the essence to the word, the reason to the understanding, and, in -fact, to make the former wholly disappear in the latter. Nothing is -allowed to be true which is not capable of a double demonstration, in -the intuition and in the conception, in the thing and in its image or -word; the thing itself, it is said, must truly lie and actually be known -only in the word." But every philosophy which allows only the reflecting -reason, must lose itself at length in an utter ignorance. Its end is -nihilism. - -3. From what has been already said, the position of Jacobi with his -principle of faith, in relation to the Kantian philosophy, can, partly -at least, be seen. Jacobi had separated himself from this philosophy, -partly in the above-named dialogue "David Hume," (especially in an -appendix to this, in which he discussed the transcendental Idealism), -and partly in his essay "_On the attempt of criticism to bring the -reason to the understanding_" (1801). His relation to it may be reduced -to the following three general points: - -(1.) Jacobi does not agree with Kant's theory of sensuous knowledge. In -opposition to this theory he defends the standpoint of empiricism, -affirms the truthfulness of the sense-perception, and denies the -apriority of space and time, for which Kant contends in order to prove -that objects as well as their relations are simply determinations of our -own self, and do not at all exist externally to us. For, however much it -may be affirmed that there is something corresponding to our notions as -their cause, yet does it remain concealed what this something is. -According to Kant, the laws of our beholding and thinking are without -objective validity, our knowledge has no objective significance. But it -is wrong to claim that in the phenomena there is nothing revealed of the -hidden truth which lies behind them. With such a claim, it were far -better to give up completely the unknown thing-in-itself, and carry out -to its results the consequent idealism. "Logically, Kant is at fault, -when he presupposes objects which make impressions on our soul. He is -bound to teach the strictest idealism." - -(2.) Yet Jacobi essentially agrees with Kant's critick of the -understanding. Jacobi affirmed, as Kant had done, that the understanding -is insufficient to know the supersensible, and that the highest ideas of -the reason could be apprehended only in faith. Jacobi places Kant's -great merit in having cleared away the ideas, which were simply the -products of reflection and logical phantasms. "It is very easy for the -understanding, when producing one notion from another, and thus -gradually mounting up to ideas, to imagine that, by virtue of these, -which, though they carry it beyond the intuitions of the sense, are -nothing but logical phantasms, it has not only the faculty but the most -decided determination to fly truly above the world of sense, and to gain -by its flight a higher science independent of the intuition, a science -of the supersensible. Kant discovers and destroys this error and -self-deception. Thus there is gained, at least, a clear place for a -_genuine_ rationalism. This is Kant's truly great deed, his immortal -merit. But the sound sense of our sage did not allow him to hide from -himself that this clear place must disappear in a gulf, which would -swallow up in itself all knowledge of the true, unless a God should -interpose to hinder it. Here Kant's doctrine and mine meet." - -(3.) But Jacobi does not fully agree with Kant, in wholly denying to the -theoretical reason the faculty of objective knowledge. He blames Kant -for complaining that the human reason cannot theoretically prove the -reality of its ideas. He affirms that Kant is thus still entangled in -the delusion, that the only reason why these ideas cannot be proved, is -found in the nature of the ideas themselves, and not in the deficient -nature of our knowledge. Kant therefore attempts to seek, in a practical -way, a kind of scientific proof; a roundabout way, which, to every -profound seeker, must seem folly, since every proof is as impossible as -it is unnecessary. - -Jacobi agreed better with Kant, than with the post-Kantian philosophy. -The atheistic tendency of the latter was especially repulsive to him. -"To Kant, that profound thinker and upright philosopher, the words God, -freedom, immortality, and religion, signified the same as they have ever -done to the sound human understanding; he in no way treats them as -nothing but deception. He created offence by irresistibly showing the -insufficiency of all proofs of speculative philosophy for these ideas. -That which was wanting in the theoretical proof, he made up by the -necessary postulates of a pure practical reason. With these, according -to Kant's assurance, philosophy was fully helped out of her difficulty, -and the goal, which had been always missed, actually reached. But the -first daughter of the critical philosophy (Fichte's system) makes the -living and working moral order itself to be God, a God expressly -declared to be without consciousness and self-existence. These frank -words, spoken publicly and without restraint, roused some attention, but -the fear soon subsided. Presently astonishment ceased wholly, for the -second daughter of the critical philosophy (Schelling's system) gave up -entirely the distinction which the first had allowed to remain between -natural and moral philosophy, necessity and freedom, and without any -further ado affirmed that the only existence is nature, and that there -is nothing above; this second daughter is Spinozism transfigured and -reversed, an ideal materialism." This latter allusion to Schelling, -connected as it was with other and harder thrusts in the same essay, -called out from this philosopher the well-known answer: "_Schelling's -Monument to the Treatise on Divine Things_, 1812." - -If we now take a critical survey of the philosophical standpoint of -Jacobi, we shall find its peculiarity to consist in the abstract -separation of understanding and feeling. These two Jacobi could not -bring into harmony. "There is light in my heart," he says, "but it goes -out whenever I attempt to bring it into the understanding. Which is the -true luminary of these two? That of the understanding, which, though it -reveals fixed forms, shows behind them only a baseless gulf? Or that of -the heart, which points its light promisingly upwards, though -determinate knowledge escapes it? Can the human spirit grasp the truth -unless it possesses these two luminaries united in one light? And is -this union conceivable except through a miracle?" If now, in order to -escape in a certain degree this contradiction between understanding and -feeling, Jacobi gave to immediate knowledge the place of mediate as -finite knowledge, this was a self-deception. Even that knowledge, which -is supposed to be immediate, and which Jacobi regards as the peculiar -organ for knowing the supersensible, is also mediate, obliged to go -through a course of subjective mediations, and can only give itself out -as immediate when it wholly forgets its own origin. - - - - -SECTION XLI. - -FICHTE - - -Johann Gottlieb Fichte was born at Rammenau, in Upper Lusatia, 1762. A -nobleman of Silesia became interested in the boy, and having committed -him first to the instruction of a clergyman, he afterwards placed him at -the high school at Schulpforte. In his eighteenth year, at Michaelmas, -1780, Fichte entered the university at Jena to study theology. He soon -found himself attracted to philosophy, and became powerfully affected by -the study of Spinoza. His pecuniary circumstances were straitened, but -this only served to harden his will and his energy. In 1784 he became -employed as a teacher in a certain family, and spent some time in this -occupation with different families in Saxony. In 1787 he sought a place -as country clergyman, but was refused on account of his religious -opinions. He was now obliged to leave his fatherland, to which he clung -with his whole soul. He repaired to Zurich, where, in 1788, he took a -post as private tutor, and where also he became acquainted with his -future wife, a sister's daughter of Klopstock. At Easter, 1790, he -returned to Saxony and taught privately at Leipsic, where he became -acquainted with the Kantian philosophy, by means of lessons which he was -obliged to give to a student. In the spring of 1791 we find him as -private tutor at Warsaw, and soon after in Konigsberg, where he -resorted, that he might become personally acquainted with the Kant he -had learned to revere. Instead of a letter of recommendation he -presented him his "_Critick of all Revelation_," a treatise which Fichte -composed in eight days. In this he attempted to deduce, from the -practical reason, the possibility of a revelation. This is not seen -purely apriori, but only under an empirical condition; we must consider -humanity to be in a moral ruin so complete, that the moral law has lost -all its influence upon the will and all morality is extinguished. In -such a case we may expect that God, as moral governor of the world, -would give man, through the sense, some pure moral impulses, and reveal -himself as lawgiver to them through a special manifestation determined -for this end, in the world of sense. In such a case a particular -revelation were a postulate of the practical reason. Fichte sought also -to determine apriori the possible content of such a revelation. Since we -need to know nothing but God, freedom, and immortality, the revelation -will contain naught but these, and these it must contain in a -comprehensible form, yet so that the symbolical dress may lay no claim -to unlimited veneration. This treatise, which appeared anonymously in -1792, at once attracted the greatest attention, and was at first -universally regarded as a work of Kant. It procured for its author, soon -after, a call to the chair of philosophy at Jena, to succeed Reinhold, -who then went to Kiel. Fichte received this appointment in 1793 at -Zurich, where he had gone to consummate his marriage. At the same time -he wrote and published, also anonymously, his "_Aids to correct views of -the French Revolution_," an essay which the governments never looked -upon with favor. At Easter, 1794, he entered upon his new office, and -soon saw his public call confirmed. Taking now a new standpoint, which -transcended Kant, he sought to establish this, and carry it out in a -series of writings (the _Wissenschaftslehre_ appeared in 1794, the -_Naturrecht_ in 1796, and the _Sittenlehre_ in 1798), by which he -exerted a powerful influence upon the scientific movement in Germany, -aided as he was in this by the fact that Jena was then one of the most -flourishing of the German universities, and the resort of every vigorous -head. With Goethe, Schiller, the brothers Schlegel, William von -Humboldt, and Hufeland, Fichte was in close fellowship, though this was -unfortunately broken after a few years. In 1795 he became associate -editor of the "_Philosophical Journal_," which had been established by -Niethammer. A fellow-laborer, Rector Forberg, at Saalfeld, offered for -publication in this journal an article "to determine the conception of -religion." Fichte advised the author not to publish it, but at length -inserted it in the journal, prefacing it, however, with an introduction -of his own. "_On the ground of our faith in a divine government of the -world_," in which he endeavored to remove, or at least soften, the views -in the article which might give offence. Both the essays raised a great -cry of atheism. The elector of Saxony confiscated the journal in his -territory, and sent a requisition to the dukes Ernest, who held in -common the university of Jena, to summon the author to trial and -punishment. Fichte answered the edict of confiscation and attempted to -justify himself to the public (1799), by his "_Appeal to the Public. An -essay which it is requested may be read before it is confiscated_;" -while he defended his course to the government by an article entitled -"_The Publishers of the Philosophical Journal justified from the charge -of Atheism_." The government of Weimar, being as anxious to spare him as -it was to please the elector of Saxony, delayed its decision. But as -Fichte, either with or without reason, had privately learned that the -whole matter was to be settled by reprimanding the accused parties for -their want of caution; and, desiring either a civil acquittal or an open -and proper satisfaction, he wrote a private letter to a member of the -government, in which he desired his dismission in case of a reprimand, -and which he closed with the intimation that many of his friends would -leave the university with him, in order to establish together a new one -in Germany. The government regarded this letter as an application for -his discharge, indirectly declaring that the reprimand was unavoidable. -Fichte, now an object of suspicion, both on account of his religious and -political views, looked about him in vain for a place of refuge. The -prince of Rudolstadt, to whom he turned, denied him his protection, and -his arrival in Berlin (1799) attracted great notice. In Berlin, where he -had much intercourse with Frederick Schlegel, and also with -Schleiermacher and Novalis, his views became gradually modified; the -catastrophe at Jena had led him from the exclusive moral standpoint -which he, resting upon Kant, had hitherto held, to the sphere of -religion; he now sought to reconcile religion with his standpoint of the -_Wissenshaftslehre_, and turned himself to a certain mysticism (the -second form of the Fichtian theory). After he had privately taught a -number of years in Berlin, and had also held philosophical lectures for -men of culture, he was recommended (1805) by Beyme and Altenstein, -chancellor of state of Hardenberg, to a professorship of philosophy in -Erlangen, an appointment which he received together with a permit to -return to Berlin in the winter, and hold there his philosophical -lectures before the public. Thus, in the winter of 1807-8, while a -French marshal was governor of Berlin, and while his voice was often -drowned by the hostile tumults of the enemy through the streets, he -delivered his famous "_Addresses to the German nation_." Fichte labored -most assiduously for the foundation of the Berlin university, for only -by wholly transforming the common education did he believe the -regeneration of Germany could be secured. As the new university was -opened 1809, he was made in the first year dean of the philosophical -faculty, and in the second was invested with the dignity of rector. In -the "war of liberation," then breaking out, Fichte took the liveliest -participation by word and deed. His wife had contracted a nervous fever -by her care of the sick and wounded, and though she recovered, he fell a -victim to the same disease. He died Jan. 28, 1814, not having yet -completed his fifty-second year. - -In the following exposition of Fichte's philosophy, we distinguish -between the two internally different periods of his philosophizing, that -of Jena and that of Berlin. The first division will include two -parts--Fichte's theory of science and his practical philosophy. - -I. THE FICHTIAN PHILOSOPHY IN ITS ORIGINAL FORM. 1. THE THEORETICAL -PHILOSOPHY OF FICHTE, HIS WISSENSCHAFTSLEHRE, OR THEORY OF SCIENCE.--It -has already been shown (Sec. 39) that the thoroughly-going subjective -idealism of Fichte was only the logical consequence of the Kantian -standpoint. It was wholly unavoidable that Fichte should entirely reject -the Kantian essentially thing (_thing in itself_), which Kant had -himself declared to be unrecognizable though real, and that he should -posit as a proper act of the mind, that external influence which Kant -had referred to the essentially thing. That the Ego alone is, and that -which we regard as a limitation of the Ego by external objects, is -rather the proper self-limitation of the Ego; this is the grand feature -of the Fichtian as of every idealism. - -Fichte himself supported the standpoint of this Theory of Science as -follows: In every experience there is conjointly an Ego and a thing, the -intelligence and its object. Which of these two sides must now be -reduced to the other? If the philosopher abstracts the Ego, he has -remaining an essentially thing, and must then apprehend his -representations or sensations as the products of this object; if he -abstracts the object, he has remaining an essentially Ego (an Ego _in -itself_). The former is dogmatism, the latter idealism. Both are -irreconcilable with each other, and there is no third way possible. We -must therefore choose between the two. In order to decide between the -two systems, we must note the following: (1) That the Ego appears in -consciousness, wherefore the essentially thing is a pure invention, -since in consciousness we have only that which is perceived; (2) -Dogmatism must account for the origin of its representation through some -essentially object, it must start from something which does not lie in -the consciousness. But the effect of being is only being, and not -representation. Hence idealism alone can be correct which does not start -from being, but from intelligence. According to idealism, intelligence -is only active, not passive, because it is a first and absolute: and on -this account there belongs to it no being, but simply an acting. The -forms of this acting, the system of the necessary mode in which -intelligence acts, must be found from the essence of intelligence. If we -should take the laws of intelligence from experience, as Kant did his -categories, we fail in two respects: (1) We do not see why intelligence -must so act, nor whether these laws are immanent laws of intelligence; -(2) We do not see how the object itself originates. Hence the -fundamental principles of intelligence, as well as the objective world, -must be derived from the Ego itself. - -Fichte supposed that in these results he only expressed the true sense -of the Kantian philosophy. "Whatever my system may properly be, whether -the genuine criticism thoroughly carried out, _as I believe it is_, or -howsoever it be named, is of no account." His system, Fichte affirms, -had the same view of the matter as Kant's, while the numerous followers -of this philosopher had wholly mistaken and misunderstood their master's -idealism. In the second introduction to the Theory of Science (1797), -Fichte grants to these expounders of the Critick of pure Reason that it -contains some passages where Kant would affirm that sensations must be -given to the subject from without as the material conditions of -objective reality; but shows that the innumerably repeated declarations -of the Critick, that there could be no influence upon us of a real -transcendental object outside of us, cannot at all be reconciled with -these passages, if any thing other than a simple thought be understood -as the ground of the sensations. "So long," adds Fichte, "as Kant does -not expressly declare that he derives sensations from an impression of -some essentially thing, or, to use his terminology, that sensation must -be explained from a transcendental object existing externally to us: so -long will I not believe what these expounders tell us of Kant. But if he -should give such an explanation, I should sooner regard the Critick of -Pure Reason to be a work of chance than of design." For such an -explanation the aged Kant did not suffer him long to wait. In the -_Intelligenzblatt der Allgemeinen Litteraturzeitung_ (1799), he -formally, and with much emphasis, rejects the Fichtian improvement of -his system, and protests against every interpretation of his writings -according to the conceit of any mind, while he maintains the literal -interpretation of his theory as laid down in the Critick of Reason. -Reinhold remarks upon all this: "Since the well known and public -explanation of Kant respecting Fichte's philosophy, there can be no -longer a doubt that Kant himself would represent his own system, and -desire to have it represented by his readers, entirely otherwise than -Fichte had represented and interpreted it. But from this it irresistibly -follows, that Kant himself did not regard his system as illogical -because it presupposed something external to the subjectivity. -Nevertheless, it does not at all follow that Fichte erred when he -declared that this system, with such a presupposition, must be -illogical." So much for Reinhold. That Kant himself did not fail to see -this inconclusiveness, is evident from the changes he introduced into -the second edition of the Critick of Pure Reason, where he suffered the -idealistic side of his system to fall back decidedly behind the -empirical. - -From what has been said, we can see the universal standpoint of the -Theory of Science; the Ego is made a principle, and from the Ego every -thing else is sought to be derived. It hardly needs to be remarked, that -by this Ego we are to understand, not any individual, but the universal -Ego, the universal rationality. The Ego and the individual, the pure and -the empirical Ego, are wholly different conceptions. - -We have still the following preface to make concerning the form of the -Theory of Science. A theory of science, according to Fichte, must posit -some supreme principle, from which every other must be derived. This -supreme principle must be absolutely, and through itself, certain. If -our human knowledge should be any thing but fragmentary, there must be -such a supreme principle. But now, since such a principle does not admit -of proof, every thing depends upon giving it a trial. Its test and -demonstration can only be thus gained, viz., if we find a principle to -which all science may be referred, then is this shown to be a -fundamental principle. But besides the first fundamental principle, -there are yet two others to be considered, the one of which is -unconditioned as to its content, but as to its form, conditioned through -and derived from the first fundamental principle; the other the reverse. -The relation of these three principles to each other is, in fine, this, -viz., that the second stands opposed to the first, while a third is the -product of the two. Hence, according to this plan, the first absolute -principle starts from the Ego, the second opposes to the Ego a thing or -a non-Ego, and the third brings forward the Ego again in reaction -against the thing or the non-Ego. This method of Fichte -(thesis,--antithesis,--synthesis) is the same as Hegel subsequently -adopted, and applied to the whole system of philosophy, a union of the -synthetical and analytical methods. We start with a fundamental -synthesis, which we analyze to produce its antitheses, in order to unite -these antitheses again through a second synthesis. But in making this -second synthesis, our analysis discovers still farther antitheses, which -obliges us therefore to find another synthesis, and so onward in the -process, till we come at length to antitheses which can no longer be -perfectly but only approximately connected. - -We stand now upon the threshold of the _Theory of Science_. It is -divided into three parts. (1) General principles of a theory of science. -(2) Principles of theoretical knowledge. (3) Principles of practical -science. - -As has already been said, there are three _supreme_ fundamental -principles, one absolutely unconditioned, and two relatively -unconditioned. - -(1.) _The absolutely first and absolutely unconditioned fundamental -principle_ ought to express that act of the mind which lies at the basis -of all consciousness, and alone makes consciousness possible. Such is -the principle of identity, A = A. This principle remains, and cannot be -thought away, though every empirical determination be removed. It is a -fact of consciousness, and must, therefore, be universally admitted: but -at the same time it is by no means conditioned, like every other -empirical fact, but unconditioned, because it is a free act. By -affirming that this principle is certain without any farther ground, we -ascribe to ourselves the faculty of _positing_ something absolutely. We -do not, therefore, affirm that A is, but only that if A is, then it is -equal to A. It is no matter now about the content of the principle, we -need only regard its form. The principle A = A is, therefore, -conditioned (hypothetically) as to its content, and unconditioned only -as to its form and its connection. If we would now have a principle -unconditioned in its content as well as in its connection, we put Ego in -the place of A, as we are fully entitled to do, since the connection of -subject and predicate contained in the judgment A = A is posited in the -Ego and through the Ego. Hence A = A becomes transformed into Ego = Ego. -This principle is unconditioned not only as to its connection, but also -as to its content. While we could not, instead of A = A, say that A is, -yet we can instead of Ego = Ego, say that Ego is. All the facts of the -empirical consciousness find their ground of explanation in this, viz., -that before any thing else is posited in the Ego, the Ego itself is -there. This fact, that the Ego is absolutely posited and grounded on -itself, is the basis of all acting in the human mind, and shows the pure -character of activity in itself. The Ego _is_, because it posits itself, -and it only is, because this simple positing of itself is wholly by -itself. The being of the Ego is thus seen in the positing of the Ego, -and on the other hand, the Ego is enabled _to posit_ simply by virtue of -its being. It is at the same time the acting, and the product of the -action. I am, is the expression of the only possible deed. Logically -considered we have, in the first principle of a Theory of Science, A = -A, the logical law of identity. From the proposition A = A, we arrive at -the proposition Ego = Ego. The latter proposition, however, does not -derive its validity from the former, but contrarywise. The prius of all -judgments is the Ego, which posits the connection of subject and -predicate. The logical law of identity arises, therefore, from Ego = -Ego. Metaphysically considered, we have in this same first principle of -a Theory of Science, the category of _reality_. We obtain this category -by abstracting every thing from the content, and reflecting simply upon -the mode of acting of the human mind. From the Ego, as the absolute -subject, every category is derived. - -(2.) _The second fundamental principle_, conditioned in its content, and -only unconditioned in its form, which is just as incapable as the first -of demonstration or derivation, is also a fact of the empirical -consciousness: it is the proposition non-A is not = A. This sentence is -unconditioned in its form, because it is free act like the first, from -which it cannot be derived; but in its content, as to its matter it is -conditioned, because if a non-A is posited, there must have previously -been posited an A. Let us examine this principle more closely. In the -first principle, A = A, the form of the act was a positing, while in -this second principle it is an oppositing. There is an absolute -opposition, and this opposition, in its simple form, is an act -absolutely possible, standing under no condition, limited by no higher -ground. But as to its matter, the opposition presupposes a position; the -non-A cannot be posited without the A. What non-A is, I do not through -that yet know: I only know concerning non-A that it is the opposite of -A: hence I only know what non-A is under the condition that I know A. -But now A is posited through the Ego; there is originally nothing -posited but the Ego, and nothing but this absolutely posited. Hence -there can be an absolute opposition only to the Ego. That which is -opposed to the Ego is the non-Ego. A non-Ego is absolutely opposed to -the Ego, and this is the second fact of the empirical consciousness. In -every thing ascribed to the Ego, the contrary, by virtue of this simple -opposition, must be ascribed to the non Ego.--As we obtained from the -first principle Ego = Ego, the logical law of identity, so now we have, -from the second sentence Ego is not = non-Ego, the logical law of -contradiction. And metaphysically,--since we wholly abstract the definite -act of judgment, and, simply in the form of sequence, conclude not-being -from opposite being,--we possess from this second principle the category -of _negation_. - -(3.) _The third principle_, conditioned in its form, is almost capable -of proof, since it is determined by two others. At every step we -approach the province where every thing can be proved. This third -principle is conditioned in its form, and unconditioned only in its -content: _i. e._ the problem, but not the solution of the act to be -established through it, has been given through the two preceding -principles. The solution is afforded unconditionally and absolutely by a -decisive word of the reason. The problem to be solved by this third -principle is this, viz., to adjust the contradiction contained in the -two former ones. On the one side, the Ego is wholly suppressed by the -non-Ego: there can be no positing of the Ego so far as the non-Ego is -posited. On the other side, the non-Ego is only an Ego posited in the -consciousness, and hence the Ego is not suppressed by the non-Ego. The -Ego appearing on the one side to be suppressed, is not really -suppressed. Such a result would be non-A = A. In order to remove this -contradiction, which threatens to destroy the identity of our -consciousness, and the only absolute foundation of our knowledge, we -must find in _x_ that which will justify both of the first two -principles, and leave the identity of our consciousness undisturbed. The -two opposites, the Ego and the non-Ego, should be united in the -consciousness, should be alike posited without either excluding the -other; they should be received in the identity of the proper -consciousness. How shall being and not-being, reality and negation, be -conceived together without destroying each other? They will reciprocally -_limit_ each other. Hence the unknown quantity _x_, whose terms we are -seeking, stands for these limits: limitation is the sought-for act of -the Ego, and as category in the thought, we have thus the category of -determination or _limitation_. But in limitation, there is also given -the category of _quantity_, for when we say that any thing is limited, -we mean that its reality is through negation, not _wholly_, but only -_partially_ suppressed. Thus the conception of limit contains also the -conception of divisibility, besides the conceptions of reality and -negation. Through the act of limitation, the Ego as well as the non-Ego, -is posited as divisible. Still farther, we see how a logical law follows -from the third fundamental principle as well as from the first two. If -we abstract the definite content, the Ego and the non-Ego, and leave -remaining the simple form of the union of opposites through the -conception of divisibility, we have then the logical _principle of the -ground_, or foundation, which may be expressed in the formula: A in part -= non-A, non-A in part = A. Wherever two opposites are alike in one -characteristic, we consider the ground as a ground of relation, and -wherever two similar things are opposite in one characteristic, we -consider the ground as a ground of distinction.--With these three -principles we have now exhausted the measure of that which is -unconditioned and absolutely certain. We can embrace the three in the -following formula: - -_I posit in the Ego a divisible non Ego over against the divisible Ego._ -No philosophy can go beyond this cognition, and every fundamental -philosophy should go back to this. Just so far as it does this, it -becomes science (_Wissenschaftslehre_). Every thing which can appear in -a system of knowledge, as well as a farther division of the Theory of -Science itself, must be derived from this. The proposition that the Ego -and the non-Ego reciprocally limit each other, may be divided into the -following two: (1) the Ego posits itself as limited through the non-Ego -(_i. e._ the Ego is in a cognitive (or passive) relation); (2) the Ego -posits the non-Ego as limited through the Ego (_i. e._ the Ego is in an -active relation). The former proposition is the basis of the -theoretical, and the latter of the practical part of the Theory of -Science. The latter part cannot, at the outset, be brought upon the -stage; for the non-Ego, which should be limited by the acting Ego, does -not at the outset exist, and we must wait and see whether it will find, -in the theoretical part, a reality. - -_The groundwork of theoretical knowledge_ advances through an -uninterrupted series of antitheses and syntheses. The fundamental -synthesis of the theoretical Theory of Science is the proposition: _the -Ego posits itself as determined_ (limited) _by the non-Ego_. If we -analyze this sentence, we find in it two subordinate sentences which are -reciprocally opposite. (1) The non-Ego as active determines the Ego, -which thus far is passive; but since all activity must start from the -Ego, so (2) the Ego determines itself through an absolute activity. -Herein is a contradiction, that the Ego should be at the same time -active and passive. Since this contradiction would destroy the above -proposition, and also suppress the unity of consciousness, we are forced -to seek some point, some new synthesis, in which these given antitheses -may be united. This synthesis is attained when we find that the -conceptions of action and passion, which are contained under the -categories of reality and negation, find their compensation and due -adjustment in the conception of divisibility. The propositions: "the Ego -determines," and "the Ego is determined," are reconciled in the -proposition: "the Ego determines itself in part, and is determined in -part." Both, however, should be considered as one and the same. Hence -more accurately: as many parts of reality as the Ego posits in itself, -so many parts of negation does it posit in the non-Ego; and as many -parts of reality as the Ego posits in the non-Ego, so many parts of -negation does it posit in itself. This determination is _reciprocal -determination_, or _reciprocal action_. Thus Fichte deduces the last of -the three categories under Kant's general category of relation. In a -similar way (viz., by finding a synthesis for apparent contradictions), -he deduces the two other categories of this class, viz., that of cause, -and that of substance. The process is thus: So far as the Ego is -determined, and therefore passive, has the non-Ego reality. The category -of reciprocal determination, to which we may ascribe indifferently -either of the two sides, reality or negation, may, more strictly taken, -imply that the Ego is passive, and the non-Ego active. The notion which -expresses this relation is that of _causality_. That, to which activity -is ascribed, is called _cause_ (primal reality), and that to which -passiveness is ascribed, is called _effect_; both, conceived in -connection, may be termed a _working_. On the other side, the Ego -determines itself. Herein is a contradiction; (1) the Ego determines -itself; it is therefore that which determines, and is thus active; (2) -it determines itself; it is therefore that which becomes determined, and -is thus passive. Thus in one respect and in one action both reality and -negation are ascribed to it. To resolve this contradiction, we must find -a mode of action which is activity and passiveness in one; the Ego must -determine its passiveness through activity, and its activity through -passiveness. This solution is attained by aid of the conception of -quantity. In the Ego all reality is first of all posited as absolute -quantum, as absolute totality, and thus far the Ego may be compared to a -greatest circle which contains all the rest. A definite quantum of -activity, or a limited sphere within this greatest circle of activity, -is indeed a _reality_; but when compared with the totality of activity, -is it also a _negation_ of the totality or passiveness. Here we have -found the mediation sought for; it lies in the notion of _substance_. In -so far as the Ego is considered as the whole circle, embracing the -totality of all realities, is it substance; but so far as it becomes -posited in a determinate sphere of this circle, is it accidental. No -accidence is conceivable without substance; for, in order to know that -any thing is a definite reality, it must first be referred to reality in -general, or to substance. In every change we think of substance in the -universal; accidence is something specific (determinate), which changes -with every changing cause. _There is originally but one substance, the -Ego_; in this one substance all possible accidents, and therefore all -possible realities, are posited. The Ego alone is the absolutely -infinite. The Ego, as thinking and as acting, indicates a limitation. -The Fichtian theory is accordingly Spinozism, only (as Jacobi strikingly -called it) a reversed and idealistic Spinozism. - -Let us look back a moment. The objectivity which Kant had allowed to -exist Fichte has destroyed. There is _only_ the Ego. But the Ego -presupposes a non-Ego, and therefore a kind of object. How the Ego comes -to posit such an object, must the theoretical Theory of Science now -proceed to show. - -There are two extreme views respecting the relation of the Ego to the -non-Ego, according as we start from the conception of cause, or that of -substance. (1) Starting from the conception of cause, we have posited -through the passiveness of the Ego an activity of the non-Ego. This -passiveness of the Ego must have some ground. This cannot lie in the -Ego, which in itself posits only activity. Consequently it lies in the -non-Ego. Here the distinction between action and passion is apprehended, -not simply as quantitative (_i. e._, viewing the passiveness as a -diminished activity), but the passion is in quality opposed to the -action; a presupposed activity of the non-Ego is, therefore, a real -ground of the passiveness in the Ego. (2) Starting from the conception -of substance, we have posited a passiveness of the Ego through its own -activity. Here the passiveness in respect of quality is the same as -activity, it being only a diminished activity. While, therefore, -according to the first view, the passive Ego has a ground distinct in -quality from the Ego, and thus a real ground, yet here its ground is -only a diminished activity of the Ego, distinct only in quantity from -the Ego, and is thus an ideal ground. The former view is dogmatic -realism, the latter is dogmatic idealism. The latter affirms: all -reality of the non-Ego is only a reality given it from the Ego; the -former declares: nothing can be given, unless there be something to -receive, unless an independent reality of the non-Ego, as thing in -itself, be presupposed. Both views present thus a contradiction, which -can only be removed by a new synthesis. Fichte attempted this synthesis -of idealism and realism, by bringing out a mediating system of critical -idealism. For this purpose he sought to show that the ideal ground and -the real ground are one and the same. Neither is the simple activity of -the Ego a ground for the reality of the non-Ego, nor is the simple -activity of the non-Ego a ground for the passiveness in the Ego. Both -must be conceived together in this way, viz., the activity of the Ego -meets a _hindrance_, which is set up against it, not without some -assistance of the Ego, and which circumscribes and reflects in itself -this activity of the Ego. The hindrance is found when the subjective can -be no farther extended, and the expanding activity of the Ego is driven -back into itself, producing as its result self-limitation. What we call -objects are nothing other than the different impinging of the activity -of the Ego on some inconceivable hindrance, and these determinations of -the Ego, we carry over to something external to ourselves, and represent -them to ourselves as space filling matter. That which Fichte calls a -hindrance through the non-Ego, is thus in fact the same as Kant calls -thing essentially, the only difference being that with Fichte it is made -subjective. From this point Fichte then deduces the subjective -activities of the Ego, which mediate, or seek to mediate, theoretically, -the Ego with the non-Ego--as imagination, representation (sensation, -intuition, feeling), understanding, faculty of judgment, reason; and in -connection with this he brought out the subjective projections of the -intuition, space, and time. - -We have now reached the third part of the Theory of Science, via., _the -foundation of the practical_. We have seen that the Ego represents. But -that it may represent does not depend upon the Ego alone, but is -determined by something external to it. We could in no way conceive of a -representation, except through the presupposition that the Ego finds -some hindrance to its undetermined and unlimited activity. Accordingly -the Ego, as intelligence, is universally dependent upon an indefinite, -and hitherto wholly indefinable non-Ego, and only through and by means -of such non-Ego, is it intelligence. A finite being is only finite as -intelligence. These limits, however, we shall break through. The -practical law which unites the finite Ego with the infinite, can depend -upon nothing external to ourselves. The Ego, according to all its -determinations, should be posited absolutely through itself, and hence -should be wholly independent of every possible non-Ego. Consequently, -the absolute Ego and the intelligent Ego, both of which should -constitute but one, are opposed to each other. This contradiction is -obviated, when we see that because the absolute Ego is capable of no -passiveness, but is absolute activity, therefore the Ego determines, -through itself, that hitherto unknown non-Ego, to which the hindrance -has been ascribed. The limits which the Ego, as theoretic, has set over -against itself in the non-Ego, it must, as practical, seek to destroy, -and absorb again the non-Ego in itself (or conceive it as the -self-limitation of the Ego). The Kantian primacy of the practical reason -is here made a truth. The transition of the theoretical part into the -practical, the necessity of advancing from the one to the other, Fichte -represents more closely thus:--The theoretical Theory of Science had to -do with the mediation of the Ego, and the non-Ego. For this end it -introduced one connecting link after another, without ever attaining its -end. Then enters the reason with the absolute and decisive word: "there -ought to be no non-Ego, since the non-Ego can in no way be united with -the Ego;" and with this the knot is cut, though not untied. Thus it is -the incongruity between the absolute (practical) Ego, and the finite -(intelligent) Ego, which is carried over beyond the theoretical province -into the practical. True, this incongruity does not wholly disappear, -even in the practical province, where the act is only an infinite -striving to surpass the limits of the non-Ego. The Ego, so far as it is -practical, has, indeed, the tendency to pass beyond the actual world, -and establish an ideal world, as it would be were every reality posited -by the absolute Ego; but this striving is always confined to the finite -partly through itself, because it goes out towards objects, and objects -are finite, and partly through the resistance of the sensible world. We -ought to seek to reach the infinite, but we cannot do it; this striving -and inability is the impress of our destiny for eternity. - -Thus--and in these words Fichte brings together the result of the Theory -of Science--the whole being of finite rational natures is comprehended -and exhausted: an original idea of our absolute being; an effort to -reflect upon ourselves, in order to gain this idea; a limitation, not of -this striving, but of our own existence, which first becomes actual -through this limitation, or through an opposite principle, a non-Ego, or -our finiteness; a self-consciousness, and especially a consciousness of -our practical strivings; a determination accordingly of our -representations, and through these of our actions; a constant widening -of our limits into the infinite. - -2. FICHTE'S PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY.--The principles which Fichte had -developed in his Theory of Science he applied to practical life, -especially to the theory of rights and morals. He sought to deduce here -every thing with methodical rigidness, without admitting any thing which -could not be proved from experience. Thus, in the theory of rights and -of morals, he will not presuppose a plurality of persons, but first -deduces this: even that the man has a body is first demonstrated, -though, to be sure, not stringently. - -_The Theory of Rights_ (_the rights of nature_) Fichte founds upon the -conception of the individual. First, he deduces the conception of -rights, and as follows:--A finite rational being cannot posit itself -without ascribing to itself a free activity. Through this positing of -its faculties to a free activity, this rational being posits an external -world of sense, for it can ascribe to itself no activity till it has -posited an object towards which this activity may be directed. Still -farther, this free activity of a rational being presupposes other -rational beings, for without these it would never be conscious that it -was free. We have therefore a plurality of free individuals, each one of -whom has a sphere of free activity. This co-existence of free -individuals is not possible without a relation of rights. Since no one -with freedom passes beyond his sphere, and each one therefore limits -himself, they recognize each other as rational and free. This relation -of a reciprocal acting through intelligence and freedom between rational -beings, according to which each one has his freedom limited by the -conception of the possibility of the other's freedom, under the -condition also that this other limits his own freedom also through that -of the first, is called a _relation of rights_. The supreme maxim of a -theory of rights is therefore this: limit thy freedom through the -conception of the freedom of every other person with whom thou canst be -connected. After Fichte has attempted the application of this conception -of rights, and for this end has deduced the corporeity, the -anthropological side of man, he passes over to a proper _theory of -rights_. The theory of rights may be divided into three parts. (1) -Rights which belong to the simple conception of person are called -_original rights_. The original right is the absolute right of the -person to be only a cause in the sensible world, though he may be -absolutely (in other relations than to the sense) an effect. In this are -contained, (_a_) the right of personal (bodily) freedom, and (_b_) the -right of property. But every relation of rights between individual -persons is conditioned through each one's recognition of the rights of -the other. Each one must limit the quantum of his free acts for the sake -of the freedom of the other, and only so far as the other has respect to -my freedom need I have regard to his. In case, therefore, the other does -not respect my original rights, some mechanical necessity must be sought -in order to secure the rights of person, and this involves (2) the -_Right of Coercion_. The laws of punishment have their end in securing -that the opposite of that which is intended shall follow every -unrighteous aim, that every vicious purpose shall be destroyed, and the -right in its integrity be established. To establish such a law of -coercion, and to secure a universal coercive power, the free individuals -must enter into covenant among themselves. Such a covenant is only -possible on the ground of a common nature. Natural right, _i. e._ the -rightful relation between man and man, presupposes thus (3) a _civil -right_, viz., (_a_) a free covenant, a compact of citizens by which the -free individuals guarantee to each other their reciprocal rights; (_b_) -positive laws, a civil legislation, through which the common will of all -becomes law; (_c_) an executive force, a civil power which executes the -common will, and in which, therefore, the private will and the common -will are synthetically united. The particular view of Fichte's theory of -rights is this: on the one side there is the state as reason demands -(philosophical theory of rights), and on the other side the state as it -actually is (theory of positive rights and of the state). But now comes -up the problem, to make the actual state ever more and more conformable -to the state of reason. The science which has this approximation for its -aim, is polity. We can demand of no actual state a perfect conformity to -the idea of a state. Every state constitution is according to right, if -it only leaves possible an advancement to a better state, and the only -constitution wholly contrary to right is that whose end is to hold every -thing just as it is. - -The absolute Ego of the Theory of Science is separated in the Theory of -Rights into an infinite number of persons with rights: to bring it out -again in its unity is the problem of _Ethics_. Right and morals are -essentially different. Right is the external necessity to omit or to do -something in order not to infringe upon the freedom of another; the -inner necessity to do or omit something wholly independent of external -ends, constitutes the moral nature of man. And as the theory of rights -arose from the conflict of the impulse of freedom in one subject with -the impulse of freedom in another subject, so does the theory of morals -or ethics arise from such a conflict, which, in the present case, is not -external but internal, between two impulses in one and the same person. -(1) The rational being is impelled towards absolute independence, and -strives after freedom for the sake of freedom. This fundamental impulse -may be called the pure impulse, and it furnishes the formal principle of -ethics, the principle of absolute autonomy, of absolute -indeterminableness through anything external to the Ego. But (2) as the -rational being is actually empirical and finite, as it by nature posits -over against itself a non-Ego and posits itself as corporeal, so there -is found beside the pure impulse another, the impulse of nature, which -makes for its end not freedom but enjoyment. This impulse of nature -furnishes the material, utilitarian (eudoemoniacal) principle of striving -after a connected enjoyment. Both impulses, which from a transcendental -standpoint are one and the same original impulse of the human being, -strive after unity, and furnish a third impulse which is a mingling of -the two. The pure impulse gives the form, and the natural impulse the -content of an action. It is true that sensuous objects will be chosen, -but by virtue of the pure impulse these are modified so as to conform to -the absolute Ego. This mingled impulse is now the moral impulse. It -mediates the pure and the natural impulse. But since these two lie -infinitely apart, the approximation of the natural to the pure impulse -is an infinite progression. The intent in an action is directed towards -a complete freeing from nature, and it is only the result of our -limitation that the act should remain still conformable to the natural -impulse. Since the Ego can never be independent so long as it is Ego, -the final aim of the rational being lies in infinity. There must be a -course in whose progress the Ego can conceive itself as approximating -towards absolute independence. This course is determined in infinity in -the idea; there is, therefore, no possible case in which it is not -determined what the pure impulse should demand. We might name this -course the moral determination (destiny) of the finite rational being. -_The principle of ethics is, therefore: Always fulfil thy destiny!_ That -which is in every moment conformable to our moral destiny, is at the -same time demanded by our natural impulse, though it does not follow -that every thing which the latter demands agrees therefore with the -former. I ought to act only when conscious that something is duty, and I -ought to discharge the duty for its own sake. The blind motives of -sympathy, love of mankind, &c., have not, as mere impulses of nature, -morality. The moral impulse has causality as having none, for it demands -be free! Through the conception of the absolute ought, is the rational -being absolutely independent, and is represented thus only when acting -from duty. The formal condition of the morality of our actions, is: act -always according to the best conviction of thy duty; or, act according -to thy conscience. The absolute criterion of the correctness of our -conviction of duty is a feeling of truth and certainty. This immediate -feeling never deceives, for it only exists with the perfect harmony of -our empirical Ego with that which is pure and original. From this point -Fichte developes his particular ethics, or theory of duties, which, -however, we must here pass by. - -Fichte's _theory of religion_ is developed in the above mentioned -treatise: "_On the ground of our faith in a divine government of the -world_," and in the writings which he subsequently put forth in its -defence. The moral government of the world, says Fichte, we assume to be -the divine. This divine government becomes living and actual in us -through right-doing: it is presupposed in every one of our actions which -are only performed in the presupposition that the moral end is -attainable in the world of sense. The faith in such an order of the -world comprises the whole of faith, for this living and active moral -order is God; we need no other God, and can comprehend no other. There -is no ground in the reason to go out of this moral order of the world, -and by concluding from design to a designer, affirm a separate being as -its cause. Is, then, this order an accidental one? It is the absolute -First of all objective knowledge. But now if you should be allowed to -draw the conclusion that there is a God as a separate being, what have -you gained by this? This being should be distinct from you and the -world, it should work in the latter according to conceptions; it should, -therefore, be capable of conceptions, and possess personality and -consciousness. But what do you call personality and consciousness? -Certainly that which you have found in yourself, which you have learned -to know in yourself, and which you have characterized with such a name. -But that you cannot conceive of this without limitation and finiteness, -you might see by the slightest attention to the construction of this -conception. By attaching, therefore, such a predicate to this being, you -bring it down to a finite, and make it a being like yourself; you have -not conceived God as you intended to do, but have only multiplied -yourself in thought. The conception of God, as a separate substance, is -impossible and contradictory. God has essential existence only as such a -moral order of the world. Every belief in a divine being, which contains -any thing more than the conception of the moral order of the world, is -an abomination to me, and in the highest degree unworthy of a rational -being.--Religion and morality are, on this standpoint, as on that of -Kant, naturally one; both are an apprehending of the supersensible, the -former through action and the latter through faith. This "Religion of -joyous right-doing," Fichte farther carried out in the writings which he -put forth to rebut the charge of atheism. He affirms that nothing but -the principles of the new philosophy could restore the degenerate -religious sense among men, and bring to light the inner essence of the -Christian doctrine. Especially he seeks to show this in his "Appeal" to -the public. In this he says: to furnish an answer to the questions: what -is good? what is true? is the aim of my philosophical system. We must -start with the affirmation that there is something absolutely true and -good; that there is something which can hold and bind the free flight of -thought. There is a voice in man which cannot be silenced, which affirms -that there is a duty, and that it must be done simply for its own sake. -Resting on this basis, there is opened to us an entirely new world in -our being; we attain a higher existence, which is independent of all -nature, and is grounded simply in ourselves. I would call this absolute -self-satisfaction of the reason, this perfect freedom from all -dependence, blessedness. As the single but unerring means of -blessedness, my conscience points me to the fulfilment of duty. I am, -therefore, impressed by the unshaken conviction, that there is a rule -and fixed order, according to which the purely moral disposition -necessarily makes blessed. It is absolutely necessary, and it is the -essential element in religion, that the man who maintains the dignity of -his reason, will repose on the faith in this order of a moral world, -will regard each one of his duties as an enactment of this order, and -will joyfully submit himself to, and find bliss in, every consequence of -his duty. Thou shalt know God if I can only beget in thee a dutiful -character, and though to others of us thou mayest seem to be still in -the world of sense, yet for thyself art thou already a partaker of -eternal life. - -II. THE LATER FORM OF FICHTE'S PHILOSOPHY.--Every thing of importance -which Fichte accomplished as a speculative philosopher, is contained in -the Theory of Science as above considered. Subsequently, after his -departure from Jena, his system gradually became modified, and from -different causes. Partly, because it was difficult to maintain the rigid -idealism of the Theory of Science; partly, because Schelling's natural -philosophy, which now appeared, was not without an influence upon -Fichte's thinking, though the latter denied this and became involved in -a bitter controversy with Schelling; and, partly, his outward relations, -which were far from being happy, contributed to modify his view of the -world. Fichte's writings, in this second period, are for the most part -popular, and intended for a mixed class of readers. They all bear the -impress of his acute mind, and of his exalted manly character, but lack -the originality and the scientific sequence of his earlier productions. -Those of them which are scientific do not satisfy the demands which he -himself had previously laid down with so much strictness, both for -himself and others, in respect of genetic construction and philosophical -method. His doctrine at this time seems rather as a web, of his old -subjective idealistic conceptions and the newly added objective -idealism, so loosely connected that Schelling might call it the -completest syncretism and eclecticism. His new standpoint is chiefly -distinguished from his old by his attempt to merge his subjective -idealism into an objective pantheism (in accordance with the new -Platonism), to transmute the Ego of his earlier philosophy into the -absolute, or the thought of God. God, whose conception he had formerly -placed only at the end of his system, in the doubtful form of a moral -order of the world, becomes to him now the absolute beginning, and -single element of his philosophy. This gave to his philosophy an -entirely new color. The moral severity gives place to a religious -mildness; instead of the Ego and the Ought, life and love are now the -chief features of his philosophy; in place of the exact dialectic of the -Theory of Science, he now makes choice of mystical and metaphorical -modes of expression. - -This second period of Fichte's philosophy is especially characterized by -its inclination to religion and Christianity, as exhibited most -prominently in the essay "_Direction to a Blessed Life_." Fichte here -affirms that his new doctrine is exactly that of Christianity, and -especially of the Gospel according to John. He would make this gospel -alone the clear foundation of Christian truth, since the other apostles -remained half Jews after their conversion, and adhered to the -fundamental error of Judaism, that the world had a creation in time. -Fichte lays great weight upon the first part of John's prologue, where -the formation of the world out of nothing is confuted, and a true view -laid down of a revelation co-eternal with God, and necessarily given -with his being. That which this prologue says of the incarnation of the -Logos in the person of Jesus, has, according to Fichte, only a historic -validity. The absolute and eternally true standpoint is, that at all -times, and in every one, without exception, who is vitally sensible of -his union with God, and who actually and in fact yields up his whole -individual life to the divine life within him,--the eternal word becomes -flesh in the same way as in Jesus Christ and holds a personal, sensible, -and human existence. The whole communion of believers, the first-born -alike with the later born, coincides in the Godhead, the common source -of life for all. And so then, Christianity having gained its end, -disappears again in the eternal truth, and affirms that every man should -come to a union with God. So long as man desires to be himself any thing -whatsoever, God does not come to him, for no man can become God. But -just so soon as he purely, wholly, and radically gives up himself, God -alone remains, and is all and in all. The man himself can beget no God, -but he can give up himself as a proper negation, and thus he disappears -in God. - -The result of his advanced philosophizing, Fichte has briefly and -clearly comprehended in the following lines, which we extract from two -posthumous sonnets: - - The Eternal One - Lives in my life and sees in my beholding. - Nought is but God, and God is nought but life. - Clearly the vail of things rises before thee; - It is thyself, what though the mortal die - And hence there lives but God in thine endeavors, - If thou wilt look through that which lives beyond this death, - The vail of things shall seem to thee as vail, - And unveiled thou shalt look upon the life divine. - - - - -SECTION XLII. - -HERBART. - - -A peculiar, and in many respects noticeable, carrying out of the Kantian -philosophy, was attempted by _Johann Friedrich Herbart_, who was born at -Oldenburg in 1776, chosen professor of philosophy in Goettingen in 1805; -made Kant's successor at Koenigsberg in 1808, and recalled to Goettingen -in 1833, where he died in 1841. His philosophy, instead of making, like -most other systems, for its principle, an idea of the reason, followed -the direction of Kant, and expended itself mainly in a critical -examination of the subjective experience. It is essentially a criticism, -but with results which are peculiar, and which differ wholly from those -of Kant. Its fundamental position in the history of philosophy is an -isolated one; instead of regarding antecedent systems as elements of a -true philosophy, it looks upon almost all of them as failures. It is -especially hostile to the post-Kantian German philosophy, and most of -all to Schelling's philosophy of nature, in which it could only behold a -phantom and a delusion; sooner than come in contact with this, it would -join Hegelianism, of which it is the opposite pole. We will give a brief -exposition of its prominent thoughts. - -1. THE BASIS AND STARTING-POINT OF PHILOSOPHY is, according to Herbart, -the common view of things, or a knowledge which shall accord with -experience. A philosophical system is in reality nothing but an attempt -by which a thinker strives to solve certain questions which present -themselves before him. Every question brought up in philosophy should -refer itself singly and solely to that which is given, and must arise -from this source alone, because there is no other original field of -certainty, for men, than experience alone. Every philosophy should begin -with it. The thinking should yield itself to experience, which should -lead it, and not be led by it. Experience, therefore, is the only object -and basis of philosophy; that which is not given cannot be an object of -thought, and it is impossible to establish any knowledge which -transcends the limits of experience. - -2. THE FIRST ACT OF PHILOSOPHY.--Though the material furnished by -experience is the basis of philosophy, yet, since it is furnished, it -stands outside of philosophy. The question arises, what is the first act -or beginning of philosophy? The thinking should first separate itself -from experience, that it may clearly see the difficulties of its -undertaking. _The beginning of philosophy_, where the thinking rises -above that which is given, is accordingly doubt or _scepticism_. -Scepticism is twofold, a lower and a higher. The lower scepticism simply -doubts that things are so constituted as they appear to us to be; the -higher scepticism passes beyond the form of the phenomenon, and inquires -whether in reality any thing there exists. It doubts _e. g._ the -succession in time; it asks in reference to the forms of the objects of -nature which exhibit design, whether the design is perceived, or only -attached to them in the thought, &c. Thus the problems which form the -content of metaphysics, are gradually brought out. The result of -scepticism is therefore not negative, but positive. Doubt is nothing but -the thinking upon those conceptions of experience which are the material -of philosophy. Through this reflection, scepticism leads us to the -knowledge that these conceptions of experience, though they refer to -something given, yet contain no conceivable content free from logical -incongruities. - -3. REMODELLING OF THE CONCEPTIONS OF EXPERIENCE.--Metaphysics, according -to Herbart, is the science of that which is conceivable in experience. -Our view thus far has been a twofold one. On the one side we hold fast -to the opinion that the single basis of philosophy is experience, and on -the other side, scepticism has shaken the credibility of experience. The -point now is to transform this scepticism into a definite knowledge of -metaphysical problems. Conceptions from experience crowd upon us, which -cannot be thoughts, _i. e._ they may indeed be thought by the ordinary -understanding, but this thinking is obscure and confused, and does not -separate nor compare opposing characteristics. But an acute process of -thought, a logical analysis, will find in the conceptions of experience -(_e. g._ space, time, becoming, motion, &c.) contradictions and -characteristics, which are totally inconsistent with each other. What -now is to be done? We may not reject these conceptions, for they are -given, and beyond the given we cannot step; we cannot retain them, for -they are inconceivable and cannot logically be established. The only way -of escape which remains to us is to remodel them. _To remodel the -conceptions of experience_, to eliminate their contradictions, is the -proper act of speculation. Scepticism has brought to light the more -definite problems which involve a contradiction, and whose solution it -therefore belongs to metaphysics to attempt; the most important of these -are the problems of inherence, change, and the Ego. - -The relation between Herbart and Hegel is very clear at this point. Both -are agreed respecting the contradictory nature of the determinations of -thought, and the conceptions of experience. But from this point they -separate. It is the nature of these conceptions as of every thing, says -Hegel, to be an inner contradiction; becoming, for instance, is -essentially the unity of being, and not being, &c. This is impossible, -says Herbart, on the other side, so long as the principle of -contradiction is valid; if the conceptions of experience contain inner -contradictions, this is not the fault of the objective world, but of the -representing subject who must rectify his false apprehension by -remodelling these conceptions, and eliminating the contradiction. -Herbart thus charges the philosophy of Hegel with empiricism, because it -receives from experience these contradictory conceptions unchanged, and -not only regards these as established, but even goes so far as to -metamorphose logic on their account, and this simply because they are -given in experience, though their contradictory nature is clearly seen. -Hegel and Herbart stand related to each other as Heraclitus and -Parmenides (_cf._ Sec. Sec. VI. and VII.) - -4. HERBART'S REALS.--From this point Herbart reaches his "reals" -(_Realen_) as follows: To discover the contradictions, he says, in all -our conceptions of experience, might lead us to absolute scepticism, and -to despair of the truth. But here we remember that if the existence of -every thing real be denied, then the appearance, sensation, -representation, and thought itself would be destroyed. We perceive, -therefore, just as strong an indication of being as of appearance. We -cannot, indeed, ascribe to the given any true and essential being _per -se_, it is not _per se_ alone, but only on, or in, or through something -other. _The truly being_ is an absolute being, which as such excludes -every thing relative and dependent; it is _absolute position_, which it -is not for us first to posit, but only to recognize. In so far as this -being is attributed to any thing, this latter possesses reality. The -truly being is, therefore, ever a _quale_, a something which is -considered as being. In order now that this posited may correspond to -the conditions which lie in the conception of absolute position, the -_what_ of the real must be thought (_a_) as absolutely positive or -affirmative, _i. e._ without any negation or limitation, which might -destroy again the absoluteness; (_b_) as absolutely simple, _i. e._ in -no way, as a multiplicity or admitting of inner antitheses; (_c_) as -indeterminate by any conceptions of greatness, _i. e._ not as a quantum -which may be divided and extended in time and space; hence, also, not as -a constant greatness or continuity. But we must never forget that this -being or this absolute reality is not simply something thought, but is -something independent and resting on itself, and hence it is simply to -be recognized by the thinking. The conception of this thinking lies at -the basis of all Herbart's metaphysics. Take an example of this. The -first problem to be solved in metaphysics is the problem of inherence, -or the thing with its characteristics. Every perceptible thing -represents itself to the senses as a complex of several characteristics. -But all the attributes of a thing which are given in perception are -relative. We say _e. g._ that sound is a property of a certain body. It -sounds--but it cannot-do this without air; what now becomes of this -property in a space without air? Again, we say that a body is heavy, but -it is only so on the earth. Or again, that a body is colored, but light -is necessary for this; what now becomes of such a property in darkness? -Still farther, a multiplicity of properties is incompatible with the -unity of an object. If you ask _what_ is this thing, you are answered -with the sum of its characteristics; it is soft, white, full-sounding, -heavy,--but your question was of one, not of many. The answer only -affirms what the thing has, not what it is. Moreover, the list of -characteristics is always incomplete. The what of a thing can therefore -lie neither in the individual given properties, nor in their unity. In -determining what a thing is, we have only this answer remaining, viz., -the thing is that unknown, which we must posit before we can posit any -thing as lying in the given properties; in a word, it is the substance. -For if, in order to see what the thing purely and essentially is, we -take away the characteristics which it may have, we find that nothing -more remains, and we perceive that what we considered as the real thing -was only a complex of characteristics, and the union of these in one -whole. But since every appearance indicates a definite reality, and thus -since there must be as much reality as there is appearance, we have to -consider the reality, which lies at the basis of the thing, with its -characteristics, as a complex of many simple substances or monads, and -whose quality is different in different instances. When our experience -has led us to a repeated grouping together of these monads, we call the -group a thing. Let us now briefly look at the formation of those -fundamental conceptions of metaphysics, which involve the same thoughts -through the fundamental conception of being. First, there is the -conception of causality, which cannot be maintained in its ordinary -form. All that we can perceive in the act is succession in time, and not -the necessary connection of cause with effect. The cause in itself can -be neither transcendent nor immanent; it cannot be transcendent, because -a real influence of one real thing upon another, contradicts the -conception of the absolute reality; nor immanent, for then the substance -must be thought as one with its characteristics, which contradicts the -investigations concerning a thing with its characteristics. We can just -as little find in the conception of the real an answer to the question, -how one determinate being can be brought into contact with another, for -the real is the absolute unchangeable. We can therefore only explain the -conception of causality on the ground that the different reals which lie -at the basis of the characteristics are conceived, each one for itself, -as cause of the phenomenon, there being just as many causes as there are -phenomena. The problem of change, is intimately connected with the -conception of cause. Since, however, according to Herbart, there is no -inner change, no self-determination, no becoming and no life; since the -monads are, and remain in themselves unchangeable, they do not therefore -_become_ different in respect of quality, but they _are_ originally -different one from another, and each one exhibits its equality without -ever any change. The problem of change can thus only be solved through -the theory of the disturbance and self-preservation of these essences. -But if that which we call not simply an apparent but an actual event, in -the essence of the monads, may be reduced to a "self-preservation," as -the last gleam of an activity and life, still we have the question ever -remaining, how to explain the appearance of change. For this it is -necessary to bring in two auxiliary conceptions; first, that of -accidental views, and second, that of intellectual spaces. The -accidental views, an expression taken from mathematics, signify, in -reference to the problem before us this much, viz., one and the same -conception may often be considered in very different relations to some -other essence, without the slightest change in its own essence, _e. g._ -a straight line may be considered as radius or as tangent, and a tone as -harmonious or discordant. By help of these accidental views, we may now -regard that which actually results in the monad, when other monads, -opposite in quality, come in contact with it, as on the one side an -actual occurrence, though on the other side, no actual change can be -imputed to the original condition of the monads (a gray color, _e. g._ -seems comparatively white by the side of black, and comparatively black -by the side of white, without changing at all its quality). A further -auxiliary conception is that of intellectual space, which, arises when -we must consider these essences as at the same time together and not -together. By means of this conception we can eliminate the -contradictions from the conception of movement. Lastly, it can be seen -that the conception of matter and that of the Ego (in psychologically -explaining which, the rest of the metaphysics is occupied) are, like the -preceding ones, no less contradictory in themselves than they are -irreconcilable with the fundamental conception of the real; for neither -can an extended being, like matter, be formed out of spaceless -monads--and with matter, therefore, fall also the ordinary conceptions of -space and time--nor can we admit, without transformation, the conception -of the Ego, since it exhibits the contradictory conception of a thing -with many and changing characteristics (conditions, powers, faculties, -&c.) - -We are reminded by Herbart's "_reals_" of the atomic theory of the -atomists (_cf._ Sec. IX. 2), of the Eleatic theory of the one being (_cf._ -Sec. VI.), and of Leibnitz's monadology. His reals however are -distinguished from the atoms by not possessing impenetrability. The -monads of Herbart may be just as well represented in the same space as a -mathematical point may be conceived as accurately coexisting with -another in the same place. In this respect the "real" of Herbart has a -far greater similarity to the "one" of the Eleatics. Both are simple, -and to be conceived in intellectual spaces, but the essential difference -is, that Herbart's substances exist in numbers distinct from one -another, and even from opposites among themselves. Herbart's simple -quantities have already been compared to the monads of Leibnitz, but -these latter have essentially a power of representation; they are -essences with inner circumstances, while, according to Herbart, -representation, just as little as every other circumstance, belongs to -the essence itself. - -5. PSYCHOLOGY is connected with metaphysics. The Ego is primarily a -metaphysical problem, and comes in this respect under the category of -the thing with its characteristics. It is a real with many properties -changing circumstances, powers, faculties, activities, &c., and thus is -not without contradictions. But then the Ego is a psychological -principle, and here those contradictions may be considered which lie in -the ideality of subject and object. The subject posits itself and is -therefore itself object. But this posited object is nothing other than -the positing subject. Thus the Ego is, as Fichte says, subject-object, -and, as such, full of the hardest contradictions, for subject and object -will never be affirmed as one and the same without contradiction. But -now if the Ego is given it cannot be thrown away, but must be purified -from its contradictions. This occurs whenever the Ego is conceived as -that which represents, and the different sensations, thoughts, &c. are -embraced under the common conception of changing appearance. The -solution of this problem is similar to that of inherence. As in the -latter problem the thing was apprehended as a complex of as many reals -as it has characteristics, just so here the Ego; but with the Ego inner -circumstances and representations correspond to the characteristics. -Thus that which we are accustomed to name Ego is nothing other than the -soul. The soul as a monad, as absolutely being, is therefore simple, -eternal, indissoluble, from which we may conclude its eternal existence. -From this standpoint Herbart combats the ordinary course of psychology -which ascribes certain powers and faculties to the soul. That which -stands out in the soul is nothing other than self-preservation, which -can only be manifold and changing in opposition to other reals. The -causes of changing circumstances are therefore these other reals, which -come variously in conflict with the soul-monad, and thus produce that -apparently infinite manifoldness of sensations, representations, and -affections. This theory of self-preservation lies at the basis of all -Herbart's psychology. That which psychology ordinarily calls feeling, -thinking, representing, &c., are only specific differences in the -self-preservation of the soul; they indicate no proper condition of the -inner real essence itself, but only relations between the reals, -relations, which, coming up together at the same time from different -sides, are partly suppressed, partly forwarded, and partly modified. -Consciousness is the sum of those relations in which the soul stands to -other essences. But the relations to the objects, and hence to the -representations corresponding to these, are not all equally strong; one -presses, restricts, and obscures another, a relation of equilibrium -which can be calculated according to the doctrine of statics. But the -suppressed representations do not wholly disappear, but waiting on the -threshold of consciousness for the favorable moment when they shall be -permitted again to arise, they join themselves with kindred -representations, and press forward with united energies. This movement -of the representations (sketched in a masterly manner by Herbart) may be -calculated according to the rules of mathematics, and this is Herbart's -well known application of mathematics to the empirical theory of the -soul. The representations which were pressed back, which wait on the -threshold of consciousness and only work in the darkness, and of which -we are only half conscious, are feelings. They express themselves as -desires, according as their struggle forward is more or less successful. -Desire becomes will when united with the hope of success. The will is no -separate faculty of the mind, but consists only in the relation of the -dominant representations to the others. The power of deciding and the -character of a man, prominently depend upon the constant presence in the -consciousness of a certain number of representations, while other -representations are weakened, or denied an entrance over the threshold -of consciousness. - -6. THE IMPORTANCE OF HERBART'S PHILOSOPHY.--Herbart's philosophy is -important mainly for its metaphysics and psychology. In the other -spheres and activities of the human mind, _e. g._ rights, morality, the -state, art, religion, his philosophy is mostly barren of results, and -though there are not wanting here striking observations, yet these have -no connection with the speculative principles of the system. Herbart -fundamentally isolates the different philosophical sciences, -distinguishing especially and in the strictest manner between -theoretical and practical philosophy. He charges the effort after unity -in philosophy, with occasioning the greatest errors; for logical, -metaphysical, and aesthetic forms are entirely diverse. Ethics and -aesthetics have to do with objects in which an immediate evidence -appears, but this is foreign to the whole nature of metaphysics, which -can only gain its knowledge as errors have been removed. AEsthetic -judgments on which practical philosophy rests, are independent of the -reality of any object, and appear with immediate certainty in the midst -of the strongest metaphysical doubts. Moral elements, says Herbart, are -pleasing and displeasing relations of the will. He thus grounds the -whole practical philosophy upon aesthetic judgments. The aesthetic -judgment is an involuntary and immediate judgment, which attaches to -certain objects, without proof, the predicates of goodness and -badness.--Here is seen the greatest difference between Herbart and Kant. - -We may characterize, on the whole, the philosophy of Herbart as a -carrying out of the monadology of Leibnitz, full of enduring acuteness, -but without any inner fruitfulness or capacity of development. - - - - -SECTION XLIII. - -SCHELLING. - - -_Schelling_ sprang from _Fichte_. We may pass on to an exposition of his -philosophy without any farther introduction, since that which it -contains from Fichte forms a part of its historical development, and -will therefore be treated of as this is unfolded. - -Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph _Schelling_ was born at Leonberg, in -Wuertemberg, January 27th, 1775. With a very precocious development, he -entered the theological seminary at Tuebingen in his fifteenth year, and -devoted himself partly to philology and mythology, but especially to -Kant's philosophy. During his course as a student, he was in personal -connection with Hoelderlin and Hegel. Schelling came before the world as -an author very early. In 1792 appeared his graduating treatise on the -third chapter of Genesis, in which he gave an interesting philosophical -signification to the Mosaic account of the fall. In the following year, -1793, he published in _Paulus'_ Memorabilia an essay of a kindred nature -"_On the Myths and Philosophemes of the Ancient World_." To the last -year of his abode at Tuebingen belong the two philosophical writings: -"_On the Possibility of a Form for Philosophy_" and "_On the Ego as a -Principle of Philosophy, or on the Unconditioned in Human Knowledge_." -After completing his university studies, Schelling went to Leipsic as -tutor to the Baron von Riedesel, but soon afterwards repaired to Jena, -where he became the pupil and co-laborer of Fichte. After Fichte's -departure from Jena, he became himself, 1798, teacher of philosophy -there, and now began, removing himself from Fichte's standpoint, to -develope more and more his own peculiar views. He published in Jena the -_Journal of Speculative Physics_, and also in company with Hegel, _the -Critical Journal_. In the year 1803 he went to Wuerzburg as professor -_ordinarius_ of philosophy. In 1807 he repaired to Munich as member -_ordinarius_ of the newly established academy of sciences there. The -year after he became general secretary of the Academy of the plastic -arts, and subsequently, when the university professorship was -established at Munich, he became its incumbent. After the death of -Jacobi, he was chosen president of the Munich Academy. In 1841 he -removed to Berlin, where he has sometimes held lectures. For the last -ten years Schelling has written nothing of importance, although he has -repeatedly promised an exposition of his present system. By far the -greater portion of his writings belongs to his early life. Schelling's -philosophy is no completed system of which his separate works are the -constituent elements; but, like Plato's, it has a historical -development, a course of formative steps which the philosopher has -passed through in his own life. Instead of systematically elaborating -the separate sciences from the standpoint of his principle, Schelling -has gone back repeatedly to the beginning again, seeking ever for new -foundations and new standpoints, connecting these for the most part -(like Plato) with some antecedent philosophemes, (Fichte, Spinoza, New -Platonism, Leibnitz, Jacob Boehme, Gnosticism,) which in their order he -attempted to interweave with his system. We must modify accordingly our -exposition of Schelling's Philosophy, and take up its different periods, -separated according to the different groups of his writings.[4] - -I. FIRST PERIOD. SCHELLING'S PROCESSION FROM FICHTE. - -Schelling's starting point was Fichte, whom he decidedly followed in his -earliest writings. In his essay, "_On the Possibility of a Form of -Philosophy_" he shows the necessity of that supreme principle which -Fichte had first propounded. In his essay, "_On the Ego_" Schelling -shows that the ultimate ground of our knowledge can only lie in the Ego, -and hence that every true philosophy must be idealism. If our knowledge -shall possess reality, there must be one point in which ideality and -reality, thought and being, can identically coincide; and if outside of -our knowledge, there were something higher which conditioned it, if -itself were not the highest, then it could not be absolute. Fichte -regarded this essay as a commentary on his _Theory of Science_; yet it -contains already indications of Schelling's subsequent standpoint, in -its expressly affirming the unity of all knowledge, the necessity that -in the end all the different sciences shall become merged into one. In -the "_Letters on Dogmatism and Criticism_," 1795, Schelling combatted -the notions of those Kantians who had left the critical and idealistic -standpoint of their master, and fallen back again into the old -dogmatism. It was also on the standpoint of Fichte that Schelling -published in Niethammer's and Fichte's Journal, 1797-98, a series of -articles, in which he gave a survey of the recent philosophical -literature. Here he begins to turn his attention towards a philosophical -deduction of nature, though he still remains on the standpoint of Fichte -when he deduces nature wholly from the essence of the Ego. In the essay -which was composed soon after, and entitled "_Ideas for a philosophy of -Nature_," 1797, and the one "_On the World-soul_," 1798, he gradually -unfolded more clearly his views. The chief points which are brought out -in the two last named essays are the following: The first origin of the -conception of matter springs from nature and the intuition of the human -mind. The mind is the union of an unlimited and a limiting energy. If -there were no limit to the mind, consciousness would be just as -impossible as if the mind were totally and absolutely limited. Feeling, -perception and knowledge are only conceivable, as the energy which -strives for the unlimited becomes limited through its opposite, and as -this latter becomes itself freed from its limitations. The actual mind -or heart consists only in the antagonism of these two energies, and -hence only in their ever approximate or relative unity. Just so is it in -nature. Matter as such is not the first, for the forces of which it is -the unity are before it. Matter is only to be apprehended as the ever -becoming product of attraction and repulsion; it is not, therefore, a -mere inert grossness, as we are apt to represent it, but these forces -are its original. But force in the material is like something -immaterial. Force in nature is that which we may compare to mind. Since -now the mind or heart exhibits precisely the same conflict, as matter, -of opposite forces, we must unite the two in a higher identity. But the -organ of the mind for apprehending nature is the intuition which takes, -as object of the external sense, the space which has been filled and -limited by the attracting and repelling forces. Thus Schelling was led -to the conclusion that _the same absolute_ appears in nature as in mind, -and that the harmony of these is something more than a thought in -reference to them. "Or if you affirm that we only _carry over_ such an -idea to nature, then have you utterly failed to apprehend the only -nature which there can be to us. For our view of nature is not that it -accidentally meets the laws of our mind--(perhaps through the mediation -of a third)--but that it necessarily and originally not only expresses, -but itself realizes, the laws of our mind, and that it is nature, and is -called such only in so far as it does this." "Nature should be the -visible mind, and mind invisible nature. Here, therefore, in the -absolute ideality of the mind _within_ us, and nature _without_ us, must -we solve the problem how it is possible for a nature outside of us to -be." This thought, that nature or matter is just as much the actual -unity of an attracting and a repelling force, as the mind or heart is -the unity of an unlimited and a limiting tendency, and that the -repelling force in matter corresponds to the positive or unlimited -activity of the mind, while the attracting force corresponds to the -mind's negative or limiting activity--this identical deduction of matter -from the essence of the Ego, is very prominent in all that Schelling -wrote upon natural philosophy during this period. Nature thus appears as -a copy (_Doppelbild_) of the mind, which the mind itself produces, in -order to return, by its means, to pure self-intuition, to -self-consciousness. Hence we have the successive stages of nature, in -which all the stations of the mind in its way to self-consciousness are -externally established. It is especially in the organic world that the -mind can behold its own self-production. Hence, in every thing organic, -there is something symbolical, every plant bears some feature of the -soul. The chief characteristics of an organic formation,--the -self-forming process from within outwards, the conformity to some end, -the change of interpenetration of form and matter--are equally chief -features of the mind. Since now there exists in our mind an endless -striving to organize itself, so there must also be manifested in the -external world a universal tendency to organization. The whole universe -may thus be called a kind of organization which has formed itself from a -centre, rising ever from a lower to a higher stage. From such a point of -view, the natural philosopher will make it his chief effort to bring to -a unity in his contemplations that life of nature, which by many -researches into physical science had been separated into numberless -different powers. "It is a needless trouble which many have given -themselves, to show how very different is the working of fire and -electricity, for every one knows this who has ever seen or heard of the -two. But our mind strives after unity in the system of its knowledge; it -will not endure that there should be pressed upon it a separate -principle for every single phenomenon, and it will only believe that it -sees nature where it can discover the greatest simplicity of laws in the -greatest multiplicity of phenomena, and the highest frugality of means -in the highest prodigality of effects. Therefore, every thought, even -that which is now rough and crude, merits attention so soon as it tends -towards the simplifying of principles, and if it serves no other end, it -at least strengthens the impulse to investigate and trace out the hidden -process of nature." The special tendency of the scientific investigation -of nature which prevailed at that time, was to make a duality of forces -the predominant element in the life of nature. In mechanics, the Kantian -theory of the opposition of attraction and repulsion was adopted; in -chemistry, by apprehending electricity as positive and negative, its -phenomenon was brought near that of magnetism; in physiology there was -the opposition of irritability and sensibility, &c. In opposition to -these dualities, Schelling now insisted upon the unity of every thing -opposite, the unity of all dualities, and this not simply as an abstract -unity, but as a concrete identity, as the harmonious co-working of the -heterogeneous. The world is the actual unity of a positive and a -negative principle, "and these two conflicting forces taken together, or -represented in their conflict, lead to the idea of an organizing -principle which makes of the world a system, in other words, to the idea -of a world-soul." - -In his above-cited essay on "_the world-soul_," Schelling took the great -step forward of apprehending nature as entirely autonomic. In the -world-soul nature has a peculiar principle which dwells within it, and -works according to conception. In this way the objective world was -recognized as the independent life of nature in a manner which the -logical idealism of Fichte would not permit. Schelling proceeded still -farther in this direction, and distinguished definitely, as the two -sides of philosophy, the philosophy of nature and a transcendental -philosophy. By placing a philosophy of nature by the side of idealism, -Schelling passed decidedly beyond the standpoint of science, and we thus -enter a second stadium of his philosophizing, though his method still -remained that of Fichte, and he continued to believe that he was -speculating in the spirit of the _Theory of Science_. - -II. SECOND PERIOD. STANDPOINT OF THE DISTINGUISHING BETWEEN THE -PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE AND OF MIND. - -This standpoint of Schelling is chiefly carried out in the following -works:--"_First Draft of a System of Natural Philosophy_," 1799; an -introduction to this, 1799; articles in the "_Journal of Speculative -Physics_," 1800, 1801; "_System of Transcendental Idealism_," 1800. -Schelling thus distinguishes the two sides of philosophy. All knowledge -rests upon the harmony of a subject with an object. That which is simply -objective is natural, and that which is simply subjective is the Ego or -intelligence. There are two possible ways of uniting these two sides: we -may either make nature first, and inquire how it is that intelligence is -associated with it (natural philosophy); or we may make the subject -first, and inquire how do objects proceed from the subject -(transcendental philosophy). The end of all philosophy must be to make -either an intelligence out of nature, or a nature out of intelligence. -As the transcendental philosophy has to subject the real to the ideal, -so must natural philosophy attempt to explain the ideal from the real. -Both, however, are only the two poles of one and the same knowledge -which reciprocally attract each other; hence, if we start from either -pole, we are necessarily drawn towards the other. - -1. NATURAL PHILOSOPHY.--To philosophize concerning nature is, in a -certain sense, to create nature--to raise it from the dead mechanism in -which it had seemed confined, to inspire it with freedom, and transpose -it into a properly free development. And what, then, is matter, other -than mind which has become extinct? According to this view, since nature -is only the visible organism of our understanding, it can produce -nothing but what is conformable to a rule and an end. But you radically -destroy every idea of nature just so soon as you allow its design to -have come to it from without, by passing over from the understanding of -any being. The complete exhibition of the intellectual world in the laws -and forms of the phenomenal world, and, on the other hand, the complete -conception of these laws and forms from the intellectual world, and -therefore the exhibition of the ideality of nature with the ideal world, -is the work of natural philosophy. Immediate experience is indeed its -starting point; we know originally nothing except through experience; -but just as soon as I gain an insight into the inner necessity of a -principle of experience, it becomes a principle apriori. Natural -philosophy is empiricism extended until it becomes absolute. - -Schelling expresses himself as follows, concerning the chief principles -of a philosophy of nature. Nature is a suspension (_Schweben_) between -productivity and product, which is always passing over into definite -forms and products, just as it is always productively passing beyond -these. This suspension indicates a duality of principles, through which -nature is held in a constant activity, and hindered from exhausting -itself in its products. A universal duality is thus the principle of -every explanation of nature; it is the first principle of a philosophic -theory of nature, to end in all nature with polarity and dualism. On the -other hand, the final cause of all our contemplation of nature is to -know that absolute unity which comprehends the whole, and which suffers -only one side of itself to be known in nature. Nature is, as it were, -the instrument of this absolute unity, through which it eternally -executes and actualizes that which is prefigured in the absolute -understanding. The whole absolute is therefore cognizable in nature, -though phenomenal nature only exhibits in a succession, and produces in -an endless development, that which the true or real nature eternally -possesses. Schelling treats of natural philosophy in three sections: (1) -the proof that nature, in its original products, is _organic_; (2) the -conditions of an _inorganic_ nature; (3) the reciprocal determination of -organic and inorganic nature. - -(1.) _Organic nature_ Schelling thus deduces: Nature absolutely -apprehended is nothing other than infinite activity, infinite -productivity. If this were unhindered in expressing itself, it would at -once, with infinite celerity, produce an absolute product, which would -allow no explanation for empirical nature. If this latter may be -explained--if there may be finite products, we must consider the -productive activity of nature as restrained by an opposite, a retarding -activity, which lies in nature itself. Thus arises a series of finite -products. But since the absolute productivity of nature tends towards an -absolute product, these individual products are only apparent ones, -beyond each one of which nature herself advances, in order to satisfy -the absoluteness of her inner productivity through an infinite series of -individual products. In this eternal producing of finite products, -nature shows itself as a living antagonism of two opposite forces, a -productive and a retarding tendency. And, indeed, the working of this -latter is infinitely manifold; the original productive impulse of nature -has not only to combat a simple restraint, but it must struggle with an -infinity of reactions, which may be called original qualities. Hence -every organic being is the permanent expression for a conflict of -reciprocally destroying and limiting actions of nature. And from this, -viz., from the original limitation and infinite restraint of the -formative impulse of nature, we see the reason why every organization, -instead of attaining to an absolute product, only reproduces itself _ad -infinitum_. Upon this rests the special significance for the organic -world, of the distinction of sex. The distinction of sex fixes the -organic products of nature, it restrains them within their own processes -of development, and suffers them only to produce the same again. But in -this production nature has no regard for the individual, but only for -the species. The individual is contrary to nature; nature desires the -absolute, and its constant effort is to represent this. Individual -products, therefore, in which the activity of nature is brought to a -stand, can only be regarded as abortive attempts to represent the -absolute. Hence the individual must be the means, and the species the -end of nature. Just so soon as the species is secured, nature abandons -the individuals and labors for their destruction. Schelling divides the -dynamic scale of organic nature according to the three grand functions -of the organic world: (_a_) Formative impulse (reproductive energy); -(_b_) Irritability; (_c_) Sensibility. Highest in rank are those -organisms in which sensibility has the preponderance over irritability; -a lower rank is held by those where irritability preponderates, and -lower still are those where reproduction first comes out in its entire -perfection, while sensibility and irritability are almost extinct. Yet -these three powers are interwoven together in all nature, and hence -there is but one organization, descending through all nature from man to -the plant. - -(2.) _Inorganic nature_ offers the antithesis to organic. The existence -and essence of inorganic nature are conditioned through the existence -and essence of organic nature. While the powers of organic nature are -productive, those of inorganic nature are not productive. While organic -nature aims only to establish the species, inorganic nature regards only -the individual, and offers no reproduction of the species through the -individual. It possesses a great multitude of materials, but can only -use these materials in the way of conjoining or separating. In a word, -inorganic nature is simply a mass held together by some external cause -as gravity. Yet it, like organic nature, has its gradations. The power -of reproduction in the latter has its counterpart in the chemical -process in the former; that which in the one case is irritability, in -the other is electricity; and sensibility, which is the highest stage of -organic life, corresponds to the universal magnetism, the highest stage -of the inorganic. - -(3.) _The reciprocal determination of the organic and inorganic world_, -is made clear by what has already been said. The result to which every -genuine philosophy of nature must come, is that the distinction between -organic and inorganic nature is only in nature as object, and that -nature, as originally productive, waves over both. If the functions of -an organism are only possible on the condition that there is a definite -external world, and an organic world, then must the external world and -the organic world have a common origin. This can only be explained on -the ground that inorganic nature presupposes in order to its existence a -higher dynamical order of things, to which it is subject. There must be -a third, which can unite again organic and inorganic nature; which can -be a medium, holding the continuity between the two. Both must be -identified in some ultimate cause, through which, as through one common -soul of nature (world-soul), both the organic and inorganic, _i. e._ -universal nature, is inspired; in some common principle, which, -fluctuating between inorganic and organic nature, and maintaining the -continuity of the two, contains the first cause of all changes in the -one, and the ultimate ground of all activity in the other. We have here -the idea of a universal organism. That it is one and the same -organization which unites in one the organic and inorganic world, would -appear from what has already been said of the parallel gradations of the -two worlds. That which in universal nature is the cause of magnetism, is -in organic nature the cause of sensibility, and the latter is only a -higher potency of the former. Just as in the organic world through -sensibility, so in universal nature through magnetism, there arises a -duality from the ideality. In this way organic nature appears only as a -higher stage of the inorganic; the very same dualism which is seen in -magnetic polarity, electrical phenomena, and chemical differences, -displays itself also in the organic world. - -2. TRANSCENDENTAL PHILOSOPHY.--Transcendental philosophy is the -philosophy of nature become subjective. The whole succession of objects -thus far described, becomes now repeated as a successive development of -the beholding subject. It is the peculiarity of transcendental idealism, -that so soon as it is once admitted, it requires that the origin of all -knowledge shall be sought for anew; that the truth which has long been -considered as established, should be subjected to a new examination, and -that this examination should proceed under at least an entirely new -form. All parts of philosophy must be exhibited in one continuity, and -the whole of philosophy must be regarded as that which it is, viz., the -advancing history of consciousness, which can use only as monuments or -documents that which is laid down in experience. (Schelling's -transcendental idealism is, in this respect, the forerunner to Hegel's -_Phoenomenology_, which pursues a similar course). The exhibition of this -connection is properly a succession of intuitions through which the Ego -raises itself to consciousness in the highest potency. Neither -transcendental philosophy nor the philosophy of nature, can alone -represent the parallelism between nature and intelligence; but, in order -to this, both sciences must be united, the former being considered as a -necessary counterpart to the other. The division of transcendental -philosophy follows from its problem, to seek anew the origin of all -knowledge, and to subject to a new examination every previous judgment -which had been held to be established truth. The pre-judgments of the -common understanding are principally two: (1) That a world of objects -exist independent of, and outside of, ourselves, and are represented to -us just as they are. To explain this pre-judgment, is the problem of the -first part of the transcendental philosophy (_theoretical philosophy_). -(2) That we can produce an effect upon the objective world according to -representations which arise freely within us. The solution of this -problem is _practical philosophy_. But, with these two problems we find -ourselves entangled, (3) in a contradiction. How is it possible that our -thought should ever rule over the world of sense, if the representation -is conditional in its origin by the objective? The solution of this -problem, which is the highest of transcendental philosophy, is the -answer to the question: how can the representations be conceived as -directing themselves according to the objects, and at the same time the -objects be conceived as directing themselves according to the -representations? This is only conceivable on the ground that the -activity through which the objective world is produced, is originally -identical with that which utters itself in the will. To show this -identity of conscious and unconscious activity, is the problem of the -third part of transcendental philosophy, or the science of ends in -nature and of art. The three parts of the transcendental philosophy -correspond thus entirely to the three criticks of Kant. - -(1.) _The theoretical philosophy_ starts from the highest principle of -knowledge, the self-consciousness, and from this point developes the -history of self-consciousness, according to its most prominent epochs -and stations, viz., sensation, intuition, productive intuition (which -produces matter)--outer and inner intuition (from which space and time, -and all Kant's categories may be derived), abstraction (by which the -intelligence distinguishes itself from its products)--absolute -abstraction, or absolute act of will. With the act of the will there is -spread before us, - -(2.) _The Field of Practical Philosophy._--In practical philosophy the -Ego is no longer beholding, _i. e._ consciousless, but is consciously -producing, _i. e._ realizing. As a whole, nature developes itself from -the original act of self-consciousness, so from the second act, or the -act of free self-determination, there is produced a second nature, to -find the origin for which is the object of practical philosophy. In his -exposition of the practical philosophy, Schelling follows almost wholly -the theory of Fichte, but closes this section with some remarkable -expressions respecting the philosophy of history. History, as a whole, -is, according to him, a gradual and self-disclosing revelation of the -absolute, a progressing demonstration of the existence of a God. The -history of this revelation may be divided into three periods. The first -is that in which the overruling power was apprehended only as destiny, -_i. e._ as a blind power, cold and consciousless, which brings the -greatest and most glorious things of earth to ruin; it is marked by the -decay of the magnificence and wonders of the ancient world, and the fall -of the noblest manhood that has ever bloomed. The second period of -history is that in which this destiny manifests itself as nature, and -the hidden law seems changed into a manifest law of nature, which -compels freedom and every choice to submit to and serve a plan of -nature. This period seems to begin with the spread of the great Roman -republic. The third period will be that where what has previously been -regarded as destiny and nature, will develope itself as Providence. When -this period shall begin, we cannot say; we can only affirm that if it -be, then God will be seen also to be. - -(3.) _Philosophy of Art._--The problem of transcendental philosophy is to -harmonize the subjective and the objective. In history, with which -practical philosophy closes, the identity of the two is not exhibited, -but only approximated in an infinite progress. But now the Ego must -attain a position where it can actually look upon this identity, which -constitutes its inner essence. If now all conscious activity exhibits -design, then a conscious and consciousless activity can only coincide in -a product, which, though it exhibits design, was yet produced without -design. Such a product is nature; we have here the principle of all -_teleology_, in which alone the solution of the given problem can be -sought. The peculiarity of nature is this, viz., that though it exhibits -itself as nothing but a blind mechanism, it yet displays design, and -represents an identity of the conscious subjective, and the -consciousless objective activity; in it the Ego beholds its own most -peculiar essence, which consists alone in this identity. But in nature -the Ego beholds this identity, not as something objective, which has a -being only outside of it, but also as that whose principle lies within -the Ego itself. This beholding is the art-intuition. As the production -of nature is consciousless, though similar to that which is conscious, -so the aesthetic production of the artist is a conscious production, -similar to that which is consciousless. _AEsthetics_ must therefore be -joined to teleology. That contradiction between the conscious and the -consciousless, which moves forward untiringly in history, and which is -unconsciously reconciled in nature, finds its conscious reconciliation -in a work of art. In a work of art, the intelligence attains a perfect -intuition of itself. The feeling which accompanies this intuition, is -the feeling of an endless satisfaction; all contradictions being -resolved, and every riddle explained. The unknown, which unexpectedly -harmonizes the objective and the conscious activity, is nothing other -than that absolute and unchangeable identity, to which every existence -must be referred. In the artist it lays aside the veil, which elsewhere -surrounds it, and irresistibly impels him to complete his work. Thus -there is no other eternal revelation but art, and this is also the -miracle which should convince us of the reality of that supreme, which -is never itself objective, but is the cause of all objective. Hence art -holds a higher rank than philosophy, for only in art has the -intellectual intuition objectivity. There is nothing, therefore, higher -to the philosopher than art, because this opens before him, as it were, -the holy of holies, where that which is separate in nature and history, -and which in life and action, as in thought, must ever diverge, burns, -as it were, in one flame, in an eternal and original union. From this we -see also both the fact and the reason for it, that philosophy, as -philosophy, can never be universally valid. Art is that alone to which -is given, an absolute objectivity, and it is through this alone that -nature, consciously productive, concludes and completes itself within -itself. - -The "_Transcendental Idealism_" is the last work which Schelling wrote -after the method of Fichte. In its principle he goes decidedly beyond -the standpoint of Fichte. That which was with Fichte the inconceivable -limit of the Ego, Schelling derives as a necessary duality, from the -simple essence of the Ego. While Fichte had regarded the union of -subject and object, only as an infinite progression towards that which -ought to be, Schelling looked upon it as actually accomplished in a work -of art. With Fichte God was apprehended only as the object of a moral -faith, but with Schelling he was looked upon as the immediate object of -the aesthetic intuition. This difference between the two could not long -be concealed from Schelling. He was obliged to see that he no longer -stood upon the basis of subjective idealism, but that his real position -was that of objective idealism. If he had already gone beyond Fichte in -setting the philosophy of nature and transcendental philosophy opposite -to each other, it was perfectly consistent for him now to go one step -farther, and, placing himself on the point of indifference between the -two, make the identity of the ideal and the real, of thought and being, -as his principle. This principle _Spinoza_ had already possessed before -him. To this philosophy of identity Schelling now found himself -peculiarly attracted. Instead of following Fichte's method, he now -availed himself of that of Spinoza, the mathematical, to which he -ascribed the greatest evidence of proof. - -III. THIRD PERIOD: PERIOD OF SPINOZISM, OR THE INDIFFERENCE OF THE IDEAL -AND THE REAL. - -The principal writings of this period are:--"_Exposition of my System of -Philosophy_" (Journal for Speculative Physics, ii. 2); the second -edition, with additions, of the "_Ideas for a Philosophy of Nature_" -1803; the dialogue, "_Bruno, or concerning the Divine and the Natural -Principle of Things_" 1802; "_Lectures on the Method of Academical -Study_," 1803; three numbers of a "_New Journal for Speculative -Physics_," 1802-3. The characteristic of the new standpoint of -Schelling, to which we now arrive, is perfectly exhibited in the -definition of reason, which he places at the head of the first of the -above-named writings; I give to reason the name absolute, or the reason -in so far as it is conceived as the total _indifference of the -subjective and the objective_. To think of reason is demanded of every -man; to think of it as absolute, and thus to reach the standpoint which -I require, every thing must be abstracted from the thinking subject. To -him who makes this abstraction, reason immediately ceases to be -something subjective, as most men represent it; neither can it be -conceived as something objective, since an objective, or that which is -thought, is only possible in opposition to that which thinks. We thus -rise through this abstraction to the reality of things (_zum wahren -an-sich_), which reality is precisely in the indifference point of the -subjective and the objective. The standpoint of philosophy is the -standpoint of reason; its knowledge is a knowledge of things as they are -in themselves, _i. e._ as they are in the reason. It is the nature of -philosophy to destroy every distinction which the imagination has -mingled with the thinking, and to see in things only that through which -they express the absolute reason, not regarding in them that which is -simply an object for that reflection which expends itself on the laws of -mechanism and in time. Besides reason there is nothing, and in it is -every thing. Reason is the absolute. All objections to this principle -can only arise from the fact, that men are in the habit of looking at -things not as they are in reason, but as they appear. Every thing which -is, is in essence like the reason, and is one with it. It is not the -reason which posits something external to itself, but only the false use -of reason, which is connected with the incapacity of forgetting the -subjective in itself. The reason is absolutely _one_ and like itself. -The highest law for the being of reason, and since there is nothing -besides reason, the highest law for all being, is the law of identity. -Between subject and object therefore--since it is one and the same -absolute identity which displays itself in both--there can be no -difference except a _quantitative_ difference (a difference of more or -less), so that nothing is either simple object or simple subject, but in -all things subject and object are united, this union being in different -proportions, so that sometimes the subject and sometimes the object has -the preponderance. But since the absolute is pure identity of subject -and object, there can be no quantitative difference except outside of -the identity, _i. e._ in the finite. As the fundamental form of the -Infinite is A = A, so the scheme of the finite is A = B (_i. e._ the -union of a subjective with another objective in a different proportion). -But, in reality, nothing is finite, because the identity is the only -reality. So far as there is difference in individual things, the -identity exists in the form of indifference. If we could see together -every thing which is, we should find in all the pure identity, because -we should find in all a perfect quantitative equilibrium of subjectivity -and objectivity. True, we find, in looking at individual objects, that -sometimes the preponderance is on one side and sometimes on the other, -but in the whole this is compensated. The absolute identity is the -absolute totality, the universe itself. There is in reality (_an-sich_) -no individual being or thing. There is in reality nothing beyond the -totality; and if any thing beyond this is beheld, this can only happen -by virtue of arbitrary separation of the individual from the whole, -which is done through reflection, and is the source of every error. The -absolute identity is essentially the same in every part of the universe. -Hence the universe may be conceived under the figure of a line, in the -centre of which is the A=A, while at the end on one side is [+A] = B, _i. -e._ a transcendence of the subjective, and at the end on the other side -is A = [+B], _i. e._ a transcendence of the objective, though this must -be conceived so that a relative identity may exist even in these -extremes. The one side is the real or nature, the other side is the -ideal. The real side developes itself according to three potences (a -potence, or power, indicates a definite quantitative difference of -subjectivity and objectivity). (1) The first potence is matter and -weight--the greatest preponderance of the object. (2) The second potence -is light (A^2), an inner--as weight is an outer--intuition of nature. The -light is a higher rising of the subjective. It is the absolute identity -itself. (3) The third potence is organism (A^3), the common product of -light and weight. Organism is just as original as matter. Inorganic -nature, as such, does not exist: it is actually organized, and is, as it -were, the universal germ out of which organization proceeds. The -organization of every globe is but the inner evolution of the globe -itself; the earth itself, by its own evolving, becomes animal and plant. -The organic world has not formed itself out of the inorganic, but has -been at least potentially present in it from the beginning. That matter -which lies before us, apparently inorganic, is the residuum of organic -metamorphoses, which could not become organic. The human brain is the -highest bloom of the whole organic metamorphosis of the earth. From the -above, Schelling adds, it must be perceived that we affirm an inner -identity of all things, and a potential presence of every thing in every -other, and therefore even the so-called dead matter may be viewed only -as a sleeping-world of animals and plants, which, in some period, the -absolute identity may animate and raise to life. At this point Schelling -stops suddenly, without developing further the three potences of the -ideal series, corresponding to those of the real. Elsewhere he completes -the work by setting up the following three potences of the ideal series: -(1) Knowledge, the potence of reflection; (2) Action, the potence of -subsumption; (3) the Reason as the unity of reflection and subsumption. -These three potences represent themselves: (1) as the true, the -imprinting of the matter in the form; (2) as the good, or the imprinting -of the form in the matter; (3) as the beautiful, or the work of art, the -absolute blending together of form and matter. - -Schelling sought also to furnish himself with a new method for knowing -the absolute identity. Neither the analytic nor the synthetical method -seems to him suitable for this, since both are only a finite knowledge. -Gradually, also, he abandoned the mathematical method. The logical forms -of the ordinary method of knowledge, and even the ordinary metaphysical -categories, were now insufficient for him. Schelling now places the -intellectual intuition as the starting point of true knowledge. -Intuition, in general, is an equal positing of thought and being. When I -behold an object, the being of the object and my thought of the object -is for me absolutely the same. But in the ordinary intuition, some -separate sensible being is posited as one with the thought. But in the -intellectual or rational intuition, being in general, and every being is -made identical with the thought, and the absolute _subject-object_ is -beheld. The intellectual intuition is absolute knowledge, and as such it -can only be conceived as that in which thought and being are not opposed -to each other. It is the beginning and the first step towards philosophy -to behold, immediately and intellectually within thyself, that same -indifference of the ideal and the real which thou beholdest projected as -it were from thyself in space and time. This absolutely absolute mode of -knowledge is wholly and entirely in the absolute itself. That it can -never become taught is clear. It cannot, moreover, be seen why -philosophy is bound to have special regard to the unattainable. It seems -much more fitting to make so complete a separation on every side between -the entrance to philosophy and the common knowledge, that no road nor -track shall lead from the latter to the former. The absolute mode of -knowledge, like the truth which it contains, has no true opposition -outside of itself, and as it cannot be demonstrated by any intelligent -being, so nothing can be set up in opposition to it by any.--Schelling -has attempted to bring the intellectual intuition into a method, and has -named this method construction. The possibility and the necessity of the -constructive method is based upon the fact that the absolute is in all, -and that all is the absolute. Construction is nothing other than the -proving that the whole is absolutely expressed in every particular -relation and object. To construe an object, philosophically, is to prove -that in this object the whole inner structure of the absolute repeats -itself. - -In Schelling's "_Lectures on the Method of Academical Study_" (delivered -in 1802, and published in 1803), he sought to treat encyclopaediacally, -every philosophical discipline from the given standpoint of identity or -indifference. They furnish a connected and popular exposition of the -outlines of his philosophy, in the form of a critical modelling of the -studies of the university course. The most noticeable feature in them is -Schelling's attempt at a historical construction of Christianity. The -incarnation of God is an incarnation from eternity. The eternal Son of -God, born from the essence of the father of all things, is the finite -itself, as it is in the eternal intuition of God. Christ is only the -historical and phenomenal pinnacle of the incarnation; as an individual, -he is a person wholly conceivable from the circumstances of the age in -which he appeared. Since God is eternally outside of all time, it is -inconceivable that he should have assumed a human nature at any definite -moment of time. The temporal form of Christianity, the exoteric -Christianity does not correspond to its idea, and has its perfection yet -to be hoped for. A chief hindrance to the perfection of Christianity, -was, and is the so-called Bible, which, moreover, is far inferior to -other religious writings, in a genuine religious content. The future -must bring a new birth of the esoteric Christianity, or a new and higher -form of religion, in which philosophy, religion and poesy shall melt -together in unity.--This latter remark contains already an intimation of -the "_Philosophy of Revelation_," a work subsequently written by -Schelling, and which exhibited many of the principles current in the age -of the apostle John. In the work we are now considering, there are also -many other points which correspond to this later standpoint of -Schelling. Thus he places at the summit of history a kind of golden age. -It is inconceivable, he says, that man as he now appears, should have -raised himself through himself from instinct to consciousness, from -animality to rationality. Another human race, must, therefore, have -preceded the present, which the old saga have immortalized under the -form of gods and heroes. The first origin of religion and culture is -only conceivable through the instruction of higher natures. I hold the -condition of culture as the first condition of the human race, and -considere the first foundation of states, sciences, religion and arts as -cotemporary, or rather as one thing: so that all these were not truly -separate, but in the completest interpenetration, as it will be again in -the final consummation. Schelling is no more than consistent when he -accordingly apprehends the symbols of mythology which we meet with at -the beginning of history, as disclosures of the highest wisdom. There is -here also a step towards his subsequent "_Philosophy of Mythology_." - -The mystical element revealed in these expressions of Schelling gained -continually a greater prominence with him. Its growth was partly -connected with his fruitless search after an absolute method, and a -fitting form in which he might have satisfactorily expressed his -philosophic intuitions. All noble mysticism rests on the incapacity of -adequately expressing an infinite content in the form of a conception. -So Schelling, after he had been restlessly tossed about in every method, -soon gave up also his method of construction, and abandoned himself -wholly to the unlimited current of his fancy. But though this was partly -the cause of his mysticism, it is also true that his philosophical -standpoint was gradually undergoing a change. From the speculative -science of nature, he was gradually passing over more and more into the -philosophy of mind, by which the determination of the absolute in his -conception became changed. While he had previously determined the -absolute as the indifference of the ideal and the real, he now gives a -preponderance to the ideal over the real, and makes ideality the -fundamental determination of the absolute. The first is the ideal; -secondly, the ideal determines itself in itself to the real, and the -real as such is the third. The earlier harmony of mind and matter is -dissolved: matter appears now as the negative of mind. Since Schelling -in this way distinguishes the universe from the absolute as its -counterpart, we see that he leaves decidedly the basis of Spinozism on -which he had previously stood, and places himself on a new standpoint. - -IV. FOURTH PERIOD: THE DIRECTION OF SCHELLING'S PHILOSOPHY AS MYSTICAL -AND ALLIED TO NEW-PLATONISM. - -The writings of this period are:--"_Philosophy and Religion_," 1804. -"_Exposition of the true relation of the Philosophy of Nature to the -improved Theory of Fichte_," 1806; "_Medical Annual_" (published in -company with _Marcus_) 1805-1808.--As has already been said, the absolute -and the universe were, on the standpoint of indifference, identical. -Nature and history were immediate manifestations of the absolute. But -now Schelling lays stress upon the difference between the two, and the -independence of the world. This he expresses in a striking way in the -first of the above named writings, by placing the origin of the world -wholly after the manner of New-Platonism, in a breaking away or a -falling off from the absolute. From the absolute to the actual, there is -no abiding transition; the origin of the sensible world is only -conceivable as a complete breaking off _per saltum_ from the absolute. -The absolute is the only real, finite things are not real; they can, -therefore, have their ground in no reality imparted to them from the -absolute, but only in a separation and complete falling away from the -absolute. The reconciliation of this fall, and the manifestation of God -made complete, is the final cause of history. With this idea there are -also connected other representations borrowed from New-Platonism, which -Schelling brings out in the same work. He speaks in it of the descent of -the soul from intellectuality, to the world of sense, and like the -Platonic myth he allows this fall of souls to be a punishment for their -selfhood (pride); he speaks also in connection with this of a -regeneration, or transmigration of souls, by which they either begin a -higher life on a better sphere, or intoxicated with matter, they are -driven down to a still lower abode, according as they have in the -present life laid aside more or less of their selfhood, and become -purified in a greater or less degree, to an identity with the infinite; -but we are especially reminded of New-Platonism by the high place and -the mystical and symbolical significance, which Schelling gives in this -work to the Greek mysteries (as did Bruno), and the view that if -religion would be held in its pure ideality, it can only exist as -exoteric, or in the form of mysteries.--This notion of a higher blending -together of religion and philosophy goes through all the writings of -this period. All true experience, says Schelling in the "_Medical -Annual_," is religious. The existence of God is an empirical truth, and -the ground of all experience. True, religion is not philosophy, but the -philosophy which does not unite in sacred harmony, religion with -science, were unworthy of the name. True, I know something higher than -science. And if science has only these two ways open before it to -knowledge, viz., that of analysis or abstraction, and that of synthetic -derivation, then we deny all science of the absolute. Speculation is -every thing, _i. e._ a beholding, a contemplation of that which is in -God. Science itself has worth only so far as it is speculative, _i. e._ -only so far as it is a contemplation of God as he is. But the time will -come when the sciences shall more and more cease, and immediate -knowledge take their place. The mortal eye closes only in the highest -science, where it is no longer the man who sees, but the eternal -beholding which has now become seeing in him. - -With this theosophic view of the world, Schelling was led to pay -attention to the earlier mystics. He began to study their writings. He -answered the charge of mysticism in his controversy with Fichte as -follows:--Among the learned of the last century, there was a tacit -agreement never to go beyond a certain height, and, therefore, the -genuine spirit of science was given up to the unlearned. These, because -they were uneducated and had drawn upon themselves the jealousy of the -learned, were called fanatics. But many a philosopher by profession -might well have exchanged all his rhetoric for the fulness of mind and -heart which abound in the writings of such fanatics. Therefore I am not -ashamed of the name of such a fanatic. I will even seek to make this -reproach true; if I have not hitherto studied the writings of these men -correctly, it has been owing to negligence. - -Schelling did not omit to verify these words. There were some special -mental affinities between himself and _Jacob Boehme_, with whom he now -became more and more closely joined. A study of his writings is indeed -indicated in Schelling's works of the present period. One of the most -famous of Schelling's writings, his theory of freedom, which appeared -after this ("_Philosophische Untersuchungen ueber das Wesen der -menschlichen Freiheit_," 1809), is composed entirely in the spirit of -Jacob Boehme. We begin with it a new period of Schelling's -philosophizing, where _the will_ is affirmed as the essence of God, and -we have thus a new definition of the absolute differing from every -previous one. - -V. FIFTH PERIOD:--ATTEMPT AT A THEOGONY AND COSMOGONY AFTER THE MANNER OF -JACOB BOEHME. - -Schelling had much in common with Jacob Boehme. Both considered the -speculative cognition as a kind of immediate intuition. Both made use of -forms which mingled the abstract and the sensuous, and interpenetrated -the definiteness of logic with the coloring of fancy. Both, in fine, -were speculatively in close contact. The self-duplication of the -absolute was a fundamental thought of Boehme. He started with the -principle, that the divine essence was the indeterminable, infinite, and -inconceivable, the absence of ground (_Ungrund_). This absence of ground -now projects itself in a proper feeling of its abstract and infinite -essence, into the finite, _i. e._ into a ground, or the centre of -nature, in the dark womb of which qualities are produced, from whose -harsh collision the lightning streams forth, which, as mind or principle -of light, is destined to rule and explain the struggling powers of -nature, so that the God who has been raised from the absence of ground -through a ground to the light of the mind, may henceforth move in an -eternal kingdom of joy. This theogony of Jacob Boehme is in striking -accord with the present standpoint of Schelling. As Boehme had -apprehended the absolute as the indeterminable absence of ground, so had -Schelling in his earlier writings apprehended it as indifference. As -Boehme had distinguished this absence of ground from a ground, or from -nature and from God, as the light of minds, so had Schelling, in the -writings of the last period, apprehended the absolute as a -self-renunciation, and a return back from this renunciation into a -higher unity with itself. We have here the three chief elements of that -history of God, around which Schelling's essay on freedom turns: (1) God -as indifference, or the absence of ground; (2) God as duplication into -ground and existence, real and ideal; (3) Reconciliation of this -duplication, and elevation of the original indifference to identity. The -first element of the divine life is that of pure indifference, or -indistinguishableness. This, which precedes every thing existing, may be -called the original ground, or the absence of ground. The absence of -ground is not a product of opposites, nor are they contained _implicite_ -in it, but it is a proper essence separate from every opposite, and -having no predicate but that of predicatelessness. Real and ideal, -darkness and light, can never be predicated of the absence of ground as -opposites; they can only be affirmed of it as not-opposites in a -neither-nor. From this indifference now rises the duality: the absence -of ground separates into two co-eternal beginnings, so that ground and -existence may become one through love, and the indeterminable and -lifeless indifference may rise to a determinate and living identity. -Since nothing is before or external to God, he must have the ground of -his existence in himself. But this ground is not simply logical, as -conception, but real, as something which is actually to be distinguished -in God from existence; it is nature in God, an essence inseparable -indeed from him, but yet distinct. Hence we cannot assign to this ground -understanding and will, but only desire after this; it is the longing to -produce itself. But in that this ground moves in its longing according -to obscure and uncertain laws like a swelling sea, there is, -self-begotten in God, another and reflexive motion, an inner -representation by which he beholds himself in his image. This -representation is the eternal word in God, which rises as light in the -darkness of the ground, and endows its blind longing with understanding. -This understanding, united with the ground, becomes pre-creating will. -Its work is to give order to nature, and to regulate the hitherto -unregulated ground; and from this explanation of the real through the -ideal, comes the creation of the world. The development of the world has -two stadia: (1) the travail of light, or the progressive development of -nature to man; (2) the travail of mind, or the development of mind in -history. - -(1.) The progressive development of nature proceeds from a conflict of -the ground with the understanding. The ground originally sought to -produce every thing solely from itself, but its products had no -consistence without the understanding, and went again to the ground, a -creation which we see exhibited in the extinct classes of animals and -plants of the pre-Adamite world. But consecutively and gradually, the -ground admitted the work of the understanding, and every such step -towards light is indicated by a new class of nature's beings. In every -creature of nature we must, therefore, distinguish two principles: -first, the obscure principle through which the creatures of nature are -separate from God, and have a particular will; second, the divine -principle of the understanding, of the universal will. With irrational -creatures of nature, however, these two principles are not yet brought -to unity; but the particular will is simple seeking and desire, while -the universal will, without the individual will, reigns as an external -power of nature, as controlling instinct. - -(2.) The two principles, the particular and the universal will, are -first united in man as they are in the absolute: but in God they are -united inseparably, and in man separably, for otherwise God could not -reveal himself in man. It is even this separableness of the universal -will, and the particular will, which makes good and evil possible. The -good is the subjection of the particular will to the universal will, and -the reverse of this right relation is evil. Human freedom consists in -this possibility of good and evil. The empirical man, however, is not -free, but his whole empirical condition is posited by a previous act of -intelligence. The man must act just as he does, but is nevertheless -free, because he has from eternity freely made himself that which he now -necessarily is. The history of the human race is founded for the most -part on the struggle of the individual will with the universal will, as -the history of nature is founded on the struggle of the ground with the -understanding. The different stages through which evil, as a historical -power, takes its way in conflict with love, constitute the periods of -the world's history. Christianity is the centre of history: in Christ, -the principle of love came in personal contact with incarnate evil: -Christ was the mediator to reconcile on the highest stage the creation -with God; for that which is personal can alone redeem the personal. The -end of history is the reconciliation of the particular will and love, -the prevalence of the universal will, so that God shall be all in all. -The original indifference is thus elevated to identity. - -Schelling has given a farther justification of this his idea of God, in -his controversial pamphlet against Jacobi, (1812). The charge of -naturalism which Jacobi made against him, he sought to refute by showing -how the true idea of God was a union of naturalism and theism. -Naturalism seeks to conceive of God as ground of the world (immanent), -while theism would view him as the world's cause (transcendent): the -true course is to unite both determinations. God is at the same time -ground and cause. It no way contradicts the conception of God to affirm -that, so far as he reveals himself, he developes himself from himself, -advancing from the imperfect to the perfect: the imperfect is in fact -the perfect itself, only in a state of becoming. It is necessary that -this becoming should be by stages, in order that the fulness of the -perfect may appear on all sides. If there were no obscure ground, no -nature, no negative principle in God, we could not speak of a -consciousness of God. So long as the God of modern theism remains the -simple essence which ought to be purely essential, but which in fact is -without essence, so long as an actual twofoldness is not recognized in -God, and a limiting and denying energy (a nature, a negative principle) -is not placed in opposition to the extending and affirming energy in -God, so long will science be entitled to make its denial of a personal -God. It is universally and essentially impossible to conceive of a being -with consciousness, which has not been brought into limit by some -denying energy within himself--as universally and essentially impossible -as to conceive of a circle without a centre. - -VI. Since the essay against Jacobi, which in its philosophical content -accords mainly with his theory of freedom, Schelling has not made public -any thing of importance. He has often announced a work entitled "_Die -Weltalter_," which should contain a complete and elaborate exposition of -his philosophy, but has always withdrawn it before its appearance. -_Paulus_ has surreptitiously brought his later Berlin lectures before -the public in a manner for which he has been greatly blamed: but since -this publication is not recognized by Schelling himself, it cannot be -used as an authentic source of knowledge of his philosophy. During this -long period, Schelling has published only two articles of a -philosophical content: "_On the Deities of Samothracos_," 1815, and a -"_Critical Preface_" to _Becker's_ translation of a preface of _Cousin_, -1834. Both articles are very characteristic of the present standpoint of -Schelling's philosophizing--he himself calls his present philosophy -_Positive Philosophy, or the Philosophy of Mythology and -Revelation_,--but as they give only intimations of this, and do not reach -a complete exposition, they do not admit of being used for our purpose. - - - - -SECTION XLIV. - -TRANSITION TO HEGEL. - - -The great want of Schelling's philosophizing, was its inability to -furnish a suitable form for the philosophic content. Schelling went -through the list of all methods, and at last abandoned all. But this -absence of method into which he ultimately sank, contradicted the very -principle of his philosophizing. If thought and being are identical, yet -form and content cannot be indifferent in respect to each other. On the -standpoint of absolute knowledge, there must be found for the absolute -content an absolute form, which shall be identical with the content. -This is the position assumed by _Hegel_. Hegel has fused the content of -Schelling's philosophy by means of the _absolute method_. Hegel sprang -as truly from Fichte as from Schelling; the origin of his system is -found in both. His method is essentially that of Fichte, but his general -philosophical standpoint is Schelling's. He has combined both Fichte and -Schelling. - -Hegel has himself, in his "_Phenomenology_," the first work in which he -appeared as a philosopher on his own hook, having previously been -considered as an adherent of Schelling--clearly expressed his difference -from Schelling, which he comprehensively affirms in the following three -hits (_Schlagworte_):--In Schelling's philosophy, the absolute is, as it -were, shot out of a pistol; it is only the night in which every cow -looks black; when it is widened to a system, it is like the course of a -painter, who has on his palette but two colors, red and green, and who -would cover a surface with the former when a historical piece was -demanded, and with the latter when a landscape was required. The first -of these charges refers to the mode of attaining the idea of the -absolute, viz., immediately, through intellectual intuition; this leap -Hegel changes, in his _Phenomenology_, to a regular transit, proceeding -step by step. The second charge relates to the way in which the absolute -thus gained is conceived and expressed, viz., simply as the absence of -all finite distinctions, and not as the immanent positing of a system of -distinctions within itself. Hegel declares that every thing depends upon -apprehending and expressing the true not as substance (_i. e._ as -negation of determinateness), but as subject (as a positing and -producing of finite distinction). The third charge has to do with -Schelling's manner of carrying out his principle through the concrete -content of the facts given in the natural and intellectual worlds, viz., -by the application of a ready-made schema (the opposition of the ideal -and the real) to the objects, instead of suffering them to unfold and -separate themselves from themselves. The school of Schelling was -especially given to this schematizing formalism, and that which Hegel -remarks, in the introduction to his _Phenomenology_, may very well be -applied to it: "If the formalism of a philosophy of nature should happen -to teach that the understanding is electricity, or that the animate is -nitrogen, the inexperienced might look upon such instructions with deep -amazement, and perhaps revere them as displaying the marks of profound -genius. But the trick of such a wisdom is as readily learned as it is -easily practised; its repetition is as insufferable as the repetition of -a discovered feat of legerdemain. This method of affixing to every thing -heavenly and earthly, to all natural and intellectual forms, the two -determinations of the universal scheme, makes the universe like a -grocer's shop, in which a row of closed jars stand with their labels -pasted on them." - -The point, therefore, of greatest difference between Schelling and Hegel -is their philosophical method, and this at the same time forms the bond -of close connection which unites Hegel with Fichte. Thesis, antithesis, -synthesis--this was the method by which Fichte had sought to deduce all -being from the Ego, and in precisely the same way Hegel deduces all -being--the intellectual and natural universe--from the thought, only with -this difference, that with him that which was idealistically deduced had -at the same time an objective reality. While the practical idealism of -Fichte stood related to the objective world as a producer, and the -ordinary empiricism as a beholder, yet with Hegel the speculative -(conceiving) reason is at the same time productive and beholding. I -produce (for myself) that which is (in itself) without my producing. The -result of philosophy, says Hegel, is the thought which is by itself, and -which comprehends in itself the universe, and changes it into an -intelligent world. To raise all being to being in the consciousness, to -knowledge, is the problem and the goal of philozophizing, and this goal -is reached when the mind has become able to beget the whole objective -world from itself. - -In his first great work, the "_Phenomenology of the Mind_," Hegel sought -to establish the standpoint of absolute knowledge or absolute idealism. -He furnishes in this work a history of the phenomenal consciousness -(whence its title), a development of the formative epochs of the -consciousness in its progress to philosophical knowledge. The inner -development of consciousness consists in this, viz., that the peculiar -condition in which it finds itself becomes objectified (or conscious), -and through this knowledge of its own being the consciousness rises ever -a new step to a higher condition. The "_Phenomenology_" seeks to show -how, and out of what necessity the consciousness advances from step to -step, from reality to being _per se_ (_vom Ansich zum Fuersich_), from -being to knowledge. The author begins with the immediate consciousness -as the lowest step. He entitled this section: "_The Sensuous Certainty, -or the This and the Mine_." At this stage the question is asked the Ego: -what is _this_, or what is _here_? and it answers, _e. g._ the tree; and -to the question, what is _now_? it answers now is the night. But if we -turn ourselves around, _here_ is not a tree but a house; and if we write -down the second answer, and look at it again after a little time, we -find that _now_ is no longer night but mid-day. The _this_ becomes, -therefore, a not-this, _i. e._ a universal. And very naturally; for if I -say: this piece of paper, yet each and every paper is a this piece of -paper, and I have only said the universal. By such inner dialectics the -whole field of the immediate certainty of the sense in perception is -gone over. In this way--since every formative step (every form) of the -consciousness of the philosophizing subject is involved in -contradictions, and is carried by this immanent dialectics to a higher -form of consciousness--this process of development goes on till the -contradiction is destroyed, _i. e._ till all strangeness between subject -and object disappears, and the mind rises to a perfect self-knowledge -and self-certainty. To characterize briefly the different steps of this -process, we might say that the consciousness is first found as a -certainty of the sense, or as the _this_ and the _mine_; next as -perception, which apprehends the objective as a thing with its -properties; and then as understanding, _i. e._ apprehending the objects -as being reflected in itself, or distinguishing between power and -expression, being and manifestation, outer and inner. From this point -the consciousness, which has only recognized itself, its own pure being -in its objects and their determinations, and for which therefore every -other thing than itself has, as such, no significance, becomes the -self-like Ego, and rises to the truth and certainty of itself to -self-consciousness. The self-consciousness become universal, or as -reason, now traverses also a series of development-steps, until it -manifests itself as spirit, as the reason which, in accord with all -rationality, and satisfied with the rational world without, extends -itself over the natural and intellectual universe as _its_ kingdom, in -which it finds itself at home. Mind now passes through its stages of -unconstrained morality, culture and refinement, ethics and the ethical -view of the world to religion; and religion itself in its perfection, as -revealed religion becomes absolute knowledge. At this last stage being -and thought are no more separate, being is no longer an object for the -thought, but the thought itself is the object of the thought. Science is -nothing other than the true knowledge of the mind concerning itself. In -the conclusion of the "_Phenomenology_," Hegel casts the following -retrospect on the course which he has laid down: "The goal which is to -be reached, viz., absolute knowledge, or the mind knowing itself as -mind, requires us to take notice of minds as they are in themselves, and -the organization of their kingdom. These elements are preserved, and -furnished to us either by history, where we look at the side of the -mind's free existence as it accidentally appears, or by the science of -phenomenal knowledge, where we look at the side of the mind's ideal -organization. These two sources taken together, as the ideal history, -give us the real history and the true being of the absolute spirit, the -actuality, truth, and certainty of his throne, without which he were -lifeless and alone; only 'from the cup of this kingdom of minds does -there stream forth for him his infinity.'" - - - - -SECTION XLV. - -HEGEL. - - -_George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel_ was born at Stuttgart, the 27th of -August, 1770. In his eighteenth year he entered the university of -Tuebingen, in order to devote himself to the study of theology. During -his course of study here, he attracted no marked attention; Schelling, -who was his junior in years, shone far beyond all his contemporaries. -After leaving Tuebingen, he took a situation as private tutor, first in -Switzerland, and afterwards in Frankfort-on-the-Main till 1801, when he -settled down at Jena. At first he was regarded as a disciple, and -defender of Schelling's philosophy, and as such he wrote in 1801 his -first minor treatise on the "_Difference between Fichte and Schelling_." -Soon afterwards he became associated with Schelling in publishing the -"_Critical Journal of Philosophy_," 1802-3, for which he furnished a -number of important articles. His labors as an academical teacher met at -first with but little encouragement; he gave his first lecture to only -four hearers. Yet in 1806 he became professor in the university, though -the political catastrophe in which the country was soon afterwards -involved, deprived him again of the place. Amid the cannon's thunder of -the battle of Jena he finished "_the Phenomenology of the Mind_," his -first great and independent work, the crown of his Jena labors. He was -subsequently in the habit of calling this book which appeared in 1807, -his "voyage of discovery." From Jena, Hegel for want of the means of -subsistence went to Bamberg, where for two years he was editor of a -political journal published there. In the fall of 1808, he became rector -of the gymnasium at Nuremberg. In this situation he wrote his _Logic_, -1812-16. All his works were produced slowly, and he first properly began -his literary activity as Schelling finished his. In 1816, he received a -call to a professorship of philosophy at Heidelberg, where in 1817 he -published his "_Encyclopaedia of the philosophical sciences_," in which -for the first time he showed the whole circuit of his system. But his -peculiar fame, and his far-reaching activity, dates first from his call -to Berlin in 1818. It was at Berlin that he surrounded himself with an -extensive and very actively scientific school, and where through his -connection with the Prussian government he gained a political influence -and acquired a reputation for his philosophy, as _the_ philosophy of the -State, though this neither speaks favorably for its inner purity, nor -its moral credit. Yet in his "_Philosophy of Rights_," which appeared in -1821 (a time, to be sure, when the Prussian State had not yet shown any -decidedly anti-constitutional tendency), Hegel does not deny the -political demands of the present age; he declares in favor of popular -representation, freedom of the press, and publicity of judicial -proceedings, trial by jury, and an administrative independence of -corporations. - -In Berlin, Hegel gave lectures upon almost every branch of philosophy, -and these have been published by his disciples and friends after his -death. His manner as a lecturer was stammering, clumsy, and unadorned, -but was still not without a peculiar attraction as the immediate -expression of profound thoughtfulness. His social intercourse was more -with the uncultivated than with the learned; he was not fond of shining -as a genius in social circles. In 1829 he became rector of the -university, an office which he administered in a more practical manner -than Fichte had done. Hegel died with the cholera, Nov. 14th, 1831, the -day also of Leibnitz's death. He rests in the same churchyard with -Solger and Fichte, near by the latter, and not far from the former. His -writings and lectures form seventeen volumes which have appeared since -1882: Vol. I. Minor Articles; II. Phenomenology; III-V. Logic; VI.-VII. -Encyclopaedia; VIII. Philosophy of Rights; IX. Philosophy of History; X. -AEsthetics; XI.-XII. Philosophy of Religion; XIII.-XV. History of -Philosophy; XVI.-XVII. Miscellanies. His life has been written by -Rosenkranz. - -Hegel's system may be divided in a number of ways. The best mode is by -connecting it with Schelling. Schellings's absolute was the identity or -the indifference point of the ideal and the real. From this Hegel's -threefold division immediately follows. (1) The exposition of the -indifference point, the development of the pure conceptions or -determinations in thought, which lie at the basis of all natural and -intellectual life; in other words, the logical unfolding of the -absolute,--_the science of logic_. (2) The development of the real world -or of nature--_natural philosophy_. (3) The development of the ideal -world, or of mind as it shows itself concretely in right, morals, the -state, art, religion, and science.--_Philosophy of Mind_. These three -parts of the system represent the three elements of the absolute method, -thesis, antithesis, synthesis. The absolute is at first pure, and -immaterial thought; secondly, it is differentiation (_Andersseyn_) of -the pure thought or its diremption (_Verzerrung_) in space and -time--nature; thirdly, it returns from this self-estrangement to itself, -destroys the differentiation of nature, and thus becomes actual -self-knowing thought or mind. - -I. SCIENCE OF LOGIC.--The Hegelian logic is the scientific exposition and -development of the pure conceptions of reason, those conceptions or -categories which lie at the basis of all thought and being, and which -determine the subjective knowledge as truly as they form the indwelling -soul of the objective reality; in a word, those ideas in which the ideal -and the real have their point of coincidence. The domain of logic, says -Hegel, is the truth, as it is _per se_ in its native character. It is as -Hegel himself figuratively expresses it, the representation of God as he -is in his eternal being, before the creation of the world or a finite -mind. In this respect it is, to be sure, a domain of shadows; but these -shadows are, on the other hand, those simple essences freed from all -sensuous matters, in whose diamond net the whole universe is -constructed. - -Different philosophers had already made a thankworthy beginning towards -collecting and examining the pure conceptions of the reason, as -Aristotle in his categories, Wolff in his ontology, and Kant in his -transcendental analytics. But they had neither completely collected, nor -critically sifted, nor (Kant excepted) derived them from one principle, -but had only taken them up empirically, and treated them -lexicologically. But in opposition to this course, Hegel attempted, (1) -to completely collect the pure art-conceptions; (2) to critically sift -them (_i. e._ to exclude every thing but pure thought); and (3)--which is -the most characteristic peculiarity of the Hegelian logic--to derive -these dialectically from one another, and carry them out to an -internally connected system of pure reason. Hegel starts with the view, -that in every conception of the reason, every other is contained -_implicite_, and may be dialectically developed from it. Fichte had -already claimed that the reason must deduce the whole system of -knowledge purely from itself, without any thing taken for granted; that -some principle must be sought which should be of itself certain, and -need no farther proof, and from which every thing else could be derived. -Hegel holds fast to this thought. Starting from the simplest conception -of reason, that of pure being, which needs no farther establishing, he -seeks from this, by advancing from one conception ever to another and a -richer one, to deduce the whole system of the pure knowledge of reason. -The lever of this development is the dialectical method. - -Hegel's dialectical method is partly taken from Plato, and partly from -Fichte. The conception of negation is Platonic. All negation, says -Hegel, is position, affirmation. If a conception is negated, the result -is not the pure nothing--a pure negative, but a concrete positive; there -results a new conception which extends around the negation of the -preceding one. The negation of the one _e. g._ is the conception of the -many. In this way Hegel makes negation a vehicle for dialectical -progress. Every presupposed conception is denied, and from its negation -a higher and richer conception is gained. This is connected with the -method of Fichte, which posits a fundamental synthesis; and by analyzing -this, seeks its antitheses, and then unites again these antitheses -through a second synthesis,--_e. g._ being, nothing, becoming, quality, -quantity, measure, &c. This method, which is at the same time analytical -and synthetical, Hegel has carried through the whole system of science. - -We now proceed to a brief survey of the Hegelian Logic. It is divided -into three parts; the doctrine of _being_, the doctrine of _essence_, -and the doctrine of _conception_. - -1. THE DOCTRINE OF BEING. (1.) _Quality._--Science begins with the -immediate and indeterminate conception of _being_. This, in its want of -content and emptiness, is nothing more than a pure negation, a -_nothing_. These two conceptions are thus as absolutely identical as -they are absolutely opposed; each of the two disappears immediately in -its contrary. This oscillation of the two is the pure _becoming_, which, -if it be a transition from nothing to being, we call _arising_, or, in -the reverse case, we call it a _departing_. The still and simple -precipitate of this process of arising and departing, is _existence_ -(_Daseyn_). Existence is being with a determinateness, or it is -_quality_; more closely, it is _reality_ or limited existence. Limited -existence excludes every other from itself. This reference to itself, -which is seen through its negative relation to every other, we call -being _per se_ (_Fuersichseyn_). Being _per se_ which refers itself only -to itself, and repels every other from itself, is _the one_. But, by -means of this repelling, the one posits immediately _many_ ones. But the -many ones are not distinguished from each other. One is what the other -is. The many are therefore one. But the one is just as truly the -manifold. For its exclusion is the positing of its contrary, or it -posits itself thereby as manifold. By this dialectic of _attraction_ and -_repulsion_, quality passes over into quantity: for indifference in -respect of distinction or qualitative determinateness is _quantity_. - -(2.) _Quantity._--Quantity is determination of greatness, which, as such, -is indifferent in respect of quality. In so far as the _greatness_ -contains many ones distinguishably within itself, it is a _discrete_, or -has the element of _discretion_; but on the other hand, in so far as the -many ones are similar, and the greatness is thus indistinguishable, it -is _continuous_, or has the element of _continuity_. Each of these two -determinations is at the same time identical with the other; discretion -cannot be conceived without continuity, nor continuity without -discretion. The existence of quantity, or the limited quantity, is the -_quantum_. The quantum has also manifoldness and unity in itself; it is -the enumeration of the unities, _i. e._ _number_. Corresponding to the -quantum or the extensive greatness, is the intensive greatness or _the -degree_. With the conception of degree, so far as degree is simple -determinateness, quantity approaches quality again. The unity of -quantity and quality is _the measure_. - -(3.) _The measure_ is a qualitative quantum, a quantum on which the -quality is dependent. An example of quantity determining the quality of -a definite object is found in the temperature of water, which decides -whether the water shall remain water or turn to ice or steam. Here the -quantum of heat actually constitutes the quality of the water. Quality -and quantity are, therefore, ideal determinations, perpetually turning -around _on_ one being, on a _third_, which, is distinguished from the -immediate what and how much (quality and quantity) of a thing. This -third is the _essence_, which is the negation of every thing immediate, -or quality independent of the immediate being. Essence is being in se, -being divided in itself, a self-separation of being. Hence the -twofoldness of all determinations of essence. - -2. THE DOCTRINE OF ESSENCE. (1.) _The Essence as such._ The essence as -reflected being is the reference to itself only as it is a reference to -something other. We apply to this being the term reflected analogously -with the reflection of light, which, when it falls on a mirror, is -thrown back by it. As now the reflected light is, through its reference -to another object, something mediated or posited, so the reflected being -is that which is shown to be mediated or grounded through another. From -the fact that philosophy makes its problem to know the essence of -things, the immediate being of things is represented as a covering or -curtain behind which the essence is concealed. If, therefore, we speak -of the essence of an object, the immediate being standing over against -the essence (for without this the essence cannot be conceived), is set -down to a mere negative, to an _appearance_. The being appears in the -essence. The essence is, therefore, the being as _appearance in itself_. -The essence when conceived in distinction from the appearance, gives the -conception of the _essential_, and that which only appears in the -essence, is the essenceless, or the _unessential_. But since the -essential has a being only in distinction from the unessential, it -follows that the latter is essential to the former, which needs its -unessential just as much as the unessential needs it. Each of the two, -therefore, appears in the other, or there takes place between them a -reciprocal reference which we call _reflection_. We have, therefore, to -do in this whole sphere with determinations of reflection, with -determinations, each one of which refers to the other, and cannot be -conceived without it (_e. g._ positive and negative, ground and -sequence, thing and properties, content and form, power and expression). -We have, therefore, in the development of the essence, those same -determinations which we found in the development of being, only no -longer in an immediate, but in a reflected form. Instead of being and -nothing, we have now the forms of the positive and negative; instead of -the there-existent (_Daseyn_), we now have existence. - -Essence is reflected being, a reference to itself, which, however, is -mediated through a reference to something other which appears in it. -This reflected reference to itself we call _identity_ (which is -unsatisfactorily and abstractly expressed in the so-called first -principle of thought, that A = A). This identity, as a negativity -referring itself to itself, as a repulsion of its own from itself, -contains essentially the determination of _distinction_. The immediate -and external distinction is the _difference_. The essential distinction, -the distinction in itself, is the _antithesis_ (_positive and -negative_). The self-opposition of the essence is the _contradiction_. -The antithesis of identity and distinction is put in agreement in the -conception of the ground. Since now the essence distinguishes itself -from itself, there is the essence as identical with itself or the -_ground_, and the essence as distinguished from itself or the -_sequence_. In the category of ground and sequence the same thing, _i. -e._ the essence, is twice posited; the grounded and the ground are one -and the same content, which makes it difficult to define the ground -except through the sequence, or the sequence except through the ground. -The two can, therefore, be divided only by a powerful abstraction; but -because the two are identical, it is peculiarly a formalism to apply -this category. If reflection would inquire after a ground, it is because -it would see the thing as it were in a twofold relation, once in its -immediateness, and then as posited through a ground. - -(2.) _Essence and Phenomenon._--The _phenomenon_ is the appearance which -the essence fills, and which is hence no longer essenceless. There is no -appearance without essence, and no essence which may not enter into -phenomenon. It is one and the same content which at one time is taken as -essence, and at another as phenomenon. In the phenomenal essence we -recognize the positive element which has hitherto been called ground, -but which we now name _content_, and the negative element which we call -the _form_. Every essence is a unity of content and form, _i. e._ _it -exists_. In distinction from immediate being, we call that being which -has proceeded from some ground, _existence_, _i. e._ grounded being. -When we view the essence as existing, we call it _thing_. In the -relation of a thing to its _properties_ we have a repetition of the -relation of form and content. The properties show us the thing in -respect of its form, but it is thing in respect of its content. The -relation between the thing and its properties is commonly indicated by -the verb _to have_ (_e. g._ the thing _has_ properties), in order to -distinguish between the two. The essence as a negative reference to -itself, and as repelling itself from itself in order to a reflection in -an _alterum_, is _power_ and _expression_. In this category, like all -the other categories of essence, one and the same content is posited -twice. The power can only be explained from the expression, and the -expression only from the power; consequently every explanation of which -this category avails itself, is tautological. To regard power as -uncognizable, is only a self-deception of the understanding respecting -its own doing.--A higher expression for the category of power and -expression is the category of _inner_ and _outer_. The latter category -stands higher than the former, because power needs some solicitation to -express itself, but the inner is the essence spontaneously manifesting -itself. Both of these, the inner and the outer, are also identical; -neither is without the other. That, _e. g._ which the man is internally -in respect of his character, is he also externally in his action. The -truth of this relation will be, therefore, the identity of inner and -outer, of essence and phenomenon, viz.: - -(3.) _Actuality._--Actuality must be added as a _third_ to being and -existence. In the actuality, the phenomenon is a complete and adequate -manifestation of the essence. The true actuality is, therefore (in -opposition to _possibility_ and _contingency_), a necessary being, a -rational _necessity_. The well-known Hegelian sentence that every thing -is rational, and every thing rational is actual, is seen in this -apprehension of "actuality" to be a simple tautology. The necessary, -when posited as its own ground, identical with itself, is _substance_. -The phenomenal side, the unessential in the substance, and the -contingent in the necessary, are _accidences_. These are no longer -related to the substance, as the phenomenon to the essence, or the outer -to the inner, _i. e._ as an adequate manifestation; they are only -transitory affections of the substance, accidentally changing phenomenal -forms, like sea waves on the water of the sea. They are not produced by -the substance, but are rather destroyed in it. The relation of substance -leads to the relation of _cause_. In the relation of cause there is one -and the same thing posited on the one side as _cause_, and on the other -side as _effect_. The cause of warmth is warmth, and its effect is again -warmth. The effect is a higher conception than the accidence, since it -actually stands over against the cause, and the cause itself passes over -into effect. So far, however, as each side in the relation of cause -presupposes the other, we shall find the true relation one in which each -side is at the same time cause and effect, _i. e._ _reciprocal action_. -Reciprocal action is a higher relation than causality, because there is -no pure causality. There is no effect without counteraction. We leave -the province of essence with the category of reciprocal action. All the -categories of essence had shown themselves as a duplex of two sides, but -when we come to the category of reciprocal action, the opposition -between cause and effect is destroyed, and they meet together; unity -thus takes again the place of duplicity. We have, therefore, again a -being which coincides with mediate being. This unity of being and -essence, this inner or realized necessity, is the conception. - -3. THE DOCTRINE OF THE CONCEPTION.--A conception is a rational necessity. -We can only have a conception of that whose true necessity we have -recognized. The conception is, therefore, the truly actual, the peculiar -essence; because it states as well that which is actual as that which -should be. - -(1.) _The subjective conception_ contains the elements of _universality_ -(the conception of species), _particularity_ (ground of classification, -logical difference), and _individuality_ (species--logical difference). -The conception is therefore a unity of that which is distinct. The -self-separation of the conception is the _judgment_. In the judgment, -the conception appears as self-excluding duality. The twofoldness is -seen in the difference between subject and predicate, and the unity in -the copula. Progress in the different forms of judgment, consists in -this, viz., that the copula fills itself more and more with the -conception. But thus the judgment passes over into the _conclusion_ or -inference, _i. e._ to the conception which is identical with itself -through the conception. In the inference one conception is concluded -with a third through a second. The different figures of the conclusion -are the different steps in the self-mediation of the conception. The -conception is when it mediates itself with itself and the conclusion is -no longer subjective; it is no longer my act, but an objective relation -is fulfilled in it. - -(2.) _Objectivity_ is a reality _only_ of the conception. The objective -conception has three steps,--_Mechanism_, or the indifferent relation of -objects to each other; _Chemism_, or the interpenetration of objects and -their neutralization; _Teleology_, or the inner design of objects. The -end accomplishing itself or the self-end is, - -(3.) _The idea._--The idea is the highest logical definition of the -absolute. The immediate existence of the idea, we call _life_, or -process of life. Every thing living is self-end immanent-end. The idea -posited in its difference as a relation of objective and subjective, is -the _true_ and _good_. The true is the objective rationality -subjectively posited; the good is the subjective rationality carried -into the objectivity. Both conceptions together constitute the _absolute -idea_, which is just as truly as it _should_ be, _i. e._ the good is -just as truly actualized as the true is living and self-realizing. - -The absolute and full idea _is in space_, because it discharges itself -from itself, as its reflection; this its being in space is _Nature_. - -II. THE SCIENCE OF NATURE.--Nature is the idea in the form of -differentiation. It is the idea externalizing itself; it is the mind -estranged from itself. The unity of the conception is therefore -concealed in nature, and since philosophy makes it its problem to seek -out the intelligence which is hidden in nature, and to pursue the -process by which nature loses its own character and becomes mind, it -should not forget that the essence of nature consists in being which has -externalized itself, and that the products of nature neither have a -reference to themselves, nor correspond to the conception, but grow up -in unrestrained and unbridled contingency. Nature is a bacchanalian god -who neither bridles nor checks himself. It therefore represents no ideal -succession, rising ever in regular order, but, on the contrary, it every -where obliterates all essential limits by its doubtful structures, which -always defy every fixed classification. Because it is impossible to -throw the determinations of the conception over nature, natural -philosophy is forced at every point, as it were, to capitulate between -the world of concrete individual structures, and the regulative of the -speculative idea. - -Natural philosophy has its beginning, its course, and its end. It begins -with the first or immediate determination of nature, with the abstract -universality of its being _extra se_, space and matter; its end is the -dissevering of the mind from nature in the form of a rational and -self-conscious individuality--man; the problem which it has to solve is, -to show the intermediate link between these two extremes, and to follow -out successively the increasingly successful struggles of nature to -raise itself to self-consciousness, to man. In this process, nature -passes through three principal stages. - -1. MECHANICS, or matter and an ideal system of matter. Matter is the -being _extra se_ (_Aussersichseyn_) of nature, in its most universal -form. Yet it shows at the outset that tendency to being _per se_ which -forms the guiding thread of natural philosophy--gravity. Gravity is the -being _in se_ (_Insichseyn_) of matter; it is the desire of matter to -come to itself, and shows the first trace of subjectivity. The centre of -gravity of a body is _the one_ which it seeks. This same tendency of -bringing all the manifold unto being _per se_ lies at the basis of the -solar system and of universal gravitation. The centrality which is the -fundamental conception of gravity, becomes here a system, which is in -fact a rational system so far as the form of the orbit, the rapidity of -motion, or the time of revolution may be referred to mathematical laws. - -2. PHYSICS.--But matter possesses no individuality. Even in astronomy it -is not the bodies themselves, but only their geometrical relations which -interest us. We have here at the outset to treat of quantitative and not -yet of qualitative determinations. Yet in the solar system, matter has -found its centre, itself. Its abstract and hollow being _in se_ has -resolved itself into form. Matter now, as possessing a quality, is an -object of _physics_. In physics we have to do with matter which has -particularized itself in a body, in an individuality. To this province -belongs inorganic nature, its forms and reciprocal references. - -3. ORGANICS.--Inorganic nature, which was the object of physics, destroys -itself in the chemical process. In the chemical process, the inorganic -body loses all its properties (cohesion, color, shining, sound, -transparency, &c.), and thus shows the evanescence of its existence and -that relativity which is its being. This chemical process is overcome by -the organic, the living process of nature. True, the living body is ever -on the point of passing over to the chemical process; oxygen, hydrogen -and salt, are always entering into a living organism, but their chemical -action is always overcome; the living body resists the chemical process -till it dies. Life is self-preservation, self-end. While therefore -nature in physics had risen to individuality, in organics, it progresses -to subjectivity. The idea, as life, represents itself in three stages. - -(1.) The general image of life in _geological_ organism, or the _mineral -kingdom_. Yet the mineral kingdom is the result, and the residuum of a -process of life and formation already passed. The primitive rock is the -stiffened crystal of life, and the geological earth is a giant corpse. -The present life which produces itself eternally anew, breaks forth as -the first moving of subjectivity, - -(2.) In the organism of _plants_ or the _vegetable kingdom_. The plant -rises indeed to a formative process, to a process of assimilation, and -to a process of species. But it is not yet a totality perfectly -organized in itself. Each part of the plant is the whole individual, -each twig is the whole tree. The parts are related indifferently to each -other; the crown can become a root, and the root a crown. The plant, -therefore, does not yet attain a true being _in se_ of individuality; -for, in order that this may be attained, an absolute unity of the -individual is necessary. This unity, which constitutes an individual and -concrete subjectivity, is first seen in - -(3.) The _animal_ organism, the _animal kingdom_. An uninterrupted -intus-susception, free motion and sensation, are first found in the -animal organism. In its higher forms we find an inner warmth and a -voice. In its highest form, man, nature, or rather the spirit, which -works through nature, apprehends itself as conscious individuality, as -Ego. The spirit thus become a free and rational self, has now completed -its self-emancipation from nature. - -III. PHILOSOPHY OF MIND.--1. THE SUBJECTIVE MIND.--The mind is the truth -of nature; it is being removed from its estrangement, and become -identical with itself. Its formal essence, therefore, is freedom, the -possibility of abstracting itself from every thing else; its material -essence is the capacity of manifesting itself as mind, as a conscious -rationality,--of positing the intellectual universe as its kingdom, and -of building a structure of objective rationality. In order, however, to -know itself, and every thing rational,--in order to posit nature more and -more negatively, the mind, like nature, must pass through a series of -stages or emancipative acts. As it comes from nature and rises from its -externality to being, _per se_, it is at first soul or spirit of nature, -and as such, it is an object of _anthropology_ in a strict sense. As -this spirit of nature, it sympathizes with the general planetary life of -the earth, and is in this respect subject to diversity of climate, and -change of seasons and days; it sympathizes with the geographical portion -of the world which it occupies, _i. e._, it is related to a diversity of -race; still farther, it bears a national type, and is moreover -determined by mode of life, formation of the body, &c., while these -natural conditions work also upon its intelligent and moral character. -Lastly, we must here take notice of the way in which nature has -determined the individual subject, _i. e._ his natural temperament, -character, idiosyncrasy, &c. To this belong the natural changes of life, -age, sexual relation, sleep, and waking. In all this the mind is still -buried in nature, and this middle condition between being _per se_ and -the sleep of nature, is sensation, the hollow forming of the mind in its -unconscious and unenlightened (_verstandlos_) individuality. A higher -stage of sensation is feeling, _i. e._ sensation _in se_, where being -_per se_ appears; feeling in its completed form is self-feeling. Since -the subject, in self-feeling, is buried in the peculiarity of his -sensations, but at the same time concludes himself with himself, as a -subjective one, the self-feeling is seen to be the preliminary step to -consciousness. The Ego now appears as the shaft in which all these -sensations, representations, cognitions and thoughts are preserved, -which is with them all, and constitutes the centre in which they all -come together. The mind as conscious, as a conscious being _per se_, as -Ego, is the object of the _phenomenology_ of consciousness. - -The mind was individual, so long as it was interwoven with nature; it -is consciousness or Ego when it has divested itself of nature. When -distinguishing itself from nature, the mind withdraws itself into -itself, and that with which it was formerly interwoven, and which gave -it a peculiar (earthly, national, &c.) determination, stands now -distinct from it, as its external world (earth, people, &c). The awaking -of the Ego is thus the act by which the objective world, as such, is -created; while on the other hand, the Ego awakens to a conscious -subjectivity only _in_ the objective world, and in distinction from it. -The Ego, over against the objective world, is consciousness in the -strict sense of the word. Consciousness becomes self-consciousness by -passing through the stages of immediate sensuous consciousness, -perception, and understanding, and convincing itself in this its -formative history, that it has only to do with itself, while it believed -that it had to do with something objective. Again, self-consciousness -becomes universal or rational self-consciousness, as follows: In its -strivings to stamp the impress of the Ego upon the objective, and thus -make the objective subjective, it falls in conflict with other -self-consciousnesses, and begins a war of extermination against them, -but rises from this _bellum omnium contra omnes_, as common -consciousness, as the finding of the proper mean between command and -obedience, _i. e._ as truly universal, _i. e._ rational -self-consciousness. The rational self-consciousness is actually free, -because, when related to another, it is really related to itself, and in -all is still with itself; it has emancipated itself from nature. We have -now mind as mind, divested of its naturalness and subjectivity, and as -such, it is an object of _Pneumatology_. - -Mind is at first theoretical mind, or intelligence, and then practical -mind, or will. It is theoretical in that it has to do with the rational -as something given, and now posits it as its own; it is practical in -that it immediately wills the subjective content (truth), which it has -as its own, to be freed from its one-sided subjective form, and -transformed into an objective. The practical mind is, so far, the truth -of the theoretical. The theoretical mind, in its way to the practical, -passes through the stages of intuition, representation, and thought; and -the will on its side forms itself into a free will through impulse, -desire, and inclination. The free will, as having a being in space -(_Daseyn_), is the _objective mind_, right, and the state. In right, -morals and the state, the freedom and rationality, which are chosen by -the will, take on an objective form. Every natural determination and -impulse now becomes moralized, and comes up to view again as ethical -institute, as right and duty (the sexual impulse now appears as -marriage, and the impulse of revenge as civil punishment, &c.) - -2. THE OBJECTIVE MIND.--(1.) The immediate objective being (_Daseyn_) of -the free will is _the right_. The individual, so far as he is capable of -rights, so far as he has rights and exercises them, is a person. The -maxim of right is, therefore, be a person and have respect to other -persons. The person allows himself an external sphere for his freedom, a -substratum in which he can exercise his will: as property, possession. -As person I have the right of possession, the absolute right of -appropriation, the right to cast my will over every thing, which thereby -becomes mine. But there exist other persons besides myself. My right is, -therefore, limited through the right of others. There thus arises a -conflict between will and will, which is settled in a compact, in a -common will. The relation of compact is the first step towards the -state, but only the _first_ step, for if we should define the state as a -compact of all with all, this would sink it in the category of private -rights and private property. It does not depend upon the will of the -individual whether he will live in the state or not. The relation of -compact refers to private property. In a compact, therefore, two wills -merge themselves in a common will, which as such becomes a right. But -just here lies also the possibility of a conflict between the individual -will and the right or the universal will. The separation of the two is a -wrong (civil wrong, fraud, crime). This separation demands a -reconciliation, a restoration of the right or the universal will from -its momentary suppression or negation, by the particular will. The right -restoring itself in respect of the particular will, and establishing a -negation of the wrong, is punishment. Those theories, which found the -right of punishment in some end of warning or improvement, mistake the -essence of punishment. Threatening, warning, &c., are finite ends, _i. -e._ means, and moreover uncertain means: but an act of righteousness -should not be made a means; righteousness is not exercised in order that -any thing other than itself shall be gained. The fulfilment and -self-manifestation of righteousness is absolute end, self-end. The -particular views we have mentioned, can only be considered in reference -to the mode of punishment. The punishment which is inflicted on a -criminal, is _his_ right, _his_ rationality, _his_ law, beneath which he -should be subsumed. His act comes back upon himself. Hegel also defends -capital punishment whose abolition seemed to him as an untimely -sentimentalism. - -(2.) The removal of the opposition of the universal and particular will -in the subject constitutes _morality_. In morality the freedom of the -will is carried forward to a self-determination of the subjectivity, and -the abstract right becomes duty and virtue. The moral standpoint is the -standpoint of conscience, it is the right of the subjective will, the -right of a free ethical decision. In the consideration of strict right, -it is no inquiry what my principle or my view might be, but in morality -the question is at once directed towards the purpose and moving spring -of the will. Hegel calls this standpoint of moral reflection and dutiful -action for a reason--morality, in distinction from a substantial, -unconditioned and unreflecting ethics. This standpoint has three -elements; (1) the element of resolution (_vorsatz_), where we consider -the inner determination of the acting subject, that which allows an act -to be ascribed only to me, and the blame of it to rest only on my will -(imputation); (2) the element of purpose, where the completed act is -regarded not according to its consequences, but according to its -relative worth in reference to myself. The resolution was still -internal; but now the act is completed, and I must suffer myself to -judge according to the constituents of the act, because I must have -known the circumstances under which I acted; (3) the element of the -good, where the act is judged according to its universal worth. The good -is peculiarly the reconciliation of the particular subjective will with -the universal will, or with the conception of the will; in other words, -to will the rational is good. Opposed to this is evil, or the elevation -of the subjective will against the universal, the attempt to set up the -peculiar and individual choice as absolute; in other words, to will the -irrational is evil. - -(3.) In morality we had conscience and the abstract good (the good which -ought to be) standing over against each other. The concrete identity of -the two, the union of subjective and objective good, is _ethics_. In the -ethical the good has become actualized in an existing world, and a -nature of self-consciousness. - -The ethical mind is seen at first immediately, or in a natural form, as -marriage and the _family_. Three elements meet together in marriage, -which should not be separated, and which are so often and so wrongly -isolated. Marriage is (1) a sexual relation, and is founded upon a -difference of sex; it is, therefore, something other than Platonic love -or monkish asceticism; (2) it is a civil contract; (3) it is love. Yet -Hegel lays no great stress upon this subjective element in concluding -upon marriage, for a reciprocal affection will spring up in the married -life. It is more ethical when a determination to marry is first, and a -definite personal affection follows afterwards, for marriage is most -prominently duty. Hegel would, therefore, place the greatest obstacles -in the way of a dissolution of marriage. He has also developed and -described in other respects the family state with a profound ethical -feeling. - -Since the family becomes separated into a multitude of families, it is a -_civil society_, in which the members, though still independent -individuals, are bound in unity by their wants, by the constitution of -rights as a means of security for person and property, and by an outward -administrative arrangement. Hegel distinguished the civil society from -the state in opposition to most modern theorists upon the subject, who, -regarding it as the great end of the state to give security of property -and of personal freedom, reduced the state to a civil society. But on -such a standpoint which would make the state wholly of wants and of -rights, it is impossible, _e. g._ to conceive of war. On the ground of -civil society each one stands for himself, is independent, and makes -himself as end, while every thing else is a means for him. But the -state, on the contrary, knows no independent individuals, each one of -whom may regard and pursue only his own well-being; but in the state, -the whole is the end, and the individual is the means.--For the -administration of justice, Hegel, in opposition to those of our time who -deny the right of legislation, would have written and intelligible laws, -which should be within reach of every one; still farther, justice should -be administered by a public trial by jury.--In respect of the -organization of civil society, Hegel expresses a great preference for a -corporation. Sanctity of marriage, he says, and honor in corporations, -are the two elements around which the disorganization of civil society -turns. - -Civil society passes over into the _state_ since the interest of the -individual loses itself in the idea of an ethical whole. The state is -the ethical idea actualized, it is the ethical mind as it rules over the -action and knowledge of the individuals conceived in it. Finally the -states themselves, since they appear as individuals in an attracting or -repelling relation to each other, represent, in their destiny, in their -rise and fall, the process of the _world's history_. - -In his apprehension of the state, Hegel approached very near the ancient -notion, which merged the individual and the right of individuality, -wholly in the will of the state. He held fast to the omnipotence of the -state in the ancient sense. Hence his resistance to modern liberalism, -which would allow individuals to postulate, to criticize, and to will -according to their improved knowledge. The state is with Hegel the -rational and ethical substance in which the individual has to live, it -is the existing reason to which the individual has to submit himself -with a free view. He regarded a limited monarchy as the best form of -government, after the manner of the English constitution, to which Hegel -was especially inclined, and in reference to which he uttered his -well-known saying that the king was but the dot upon the i. There must -be an individual, Hegel supposes, who can _affirm_ for the state, who -can prefix an "_I will_" to the resolves of the state, and who can be -the head of a formal decision. The personality of a state, he says, "is -only actual as a person, as monarch." Hence Hegel defends hereditary -monarchy, but he places the nobility by its side as a mediating element -between people and prince--not indeed to control or limit the government, -nor to maintain the rights of the people, but only that the people may -experience that there is a good rule, that, the consciousness of the -people may be with the government and that the state may enter into the -subjective consciousness of the people. - -States and the minds of individual races pour their currents into the -stream of the world's history. The strife, the victory, and the -subjection of the spirits of individual races, and the passing over of -the world spirit from one people to another, is the content of the -world's history. The development of the world's history is generally -connected with some ruling race, which carries in itself the world -spirit in its present stage of development, and in distinction from -which the spirits of other races have no rights. Thus these race-spirits -stand around the throne of the absolute spirit, as the executors of its -actualization, as the witnesses and adornment of its glory. - -3. THE ABSOLUTE MIND.--(1.) _AEsthetics_. The absolute mind is immediately -present to the sensuous intuition as the beautiful or as art. The -beautiful is the appearance of the idea through a sensible medium (a -crystal, color, tone, poetry); it is the idea actualized in the form of -a limited phenomenon. To the beautiful (and to its subordinate kinds, -the simply beautiful, the sublime, and the comical) two factors always -belong, thought and matter; but both these are inseparable from each -other; the matter is the outer phenomenon of the thought, and should -express nothing but the thought which inspires it and shines through it. -The different ways in which matter and form are connected, furnish the -different forms of art. In the symbolic form of art the matter -preponderates; the thought presses through it, and brings out the ideal -only with difficulty. In the classic form of art, the ideal has attained -its adequate existence in the matter; content and form are absolutely -befitting each other. Lastly, in romantic art, the mind preponderates, -and the matter is a mere appearance and sign through which the mind -every where breaks out, and struggles up above the material. The system -of particular arts is connected with the different forms of art; but the -distinction of one particular art from another, depends especially upon -the difference of the material. - -(_a._) The beginning of art is _Architecture_. It belongs essentially to -the symbolic form of art, since in it the sensible matter far -preponderates, and it first seeks the true conformity between content -and form. Its material is stone, which it fashions according to the laws -of gravity. Hence it has the character of magnitude, of silent -earnestness, of oriental sublimity. - -(_b._) _Sculpture._--The material of this art is also stone, but it -advances from the inorganic to the organic. It gives the stone a bodily -form, and makes it only a serving vehicle of the thought. In sculpture, -the material, the stone, since it represents the body, that building of -the soul, in its clearness and beauty, disappears wholly in the ideal; -there is nothing left of the material which does not serve the idea. - -(_c._) _Painting._--This is preeminently a romantic art. It represents, -as sculpture cannot do, the life of the soul, the look, the disposition, -the heart. Its medium is no longer a coarse material substratum, but the -colored surface, and the soul-like play of light; it gives the -_appearance_ only of complete spacial dimension. Hence it is able to -represent in a complete dramatic movement the whole scale of feelings, -conditions of heart, and actions. - -(_d._) _Music._--This leaves out all relation of space. Its material is -sound, the vibration of a sonorous body. It leaves, therefore, the field -of sensuous intuition, and works exclusively upon the sensation. Its -basis is the breast of the sensitive soul. Music is the most subjective -art. - -(_e._) Lastly in _Poetry_, or the speaking art, is the tongue of art -loosed; poetry can represent every thing. Its material is not the mere -sound, but the sound as word, as the sign of a representation, as the -expression of reason. But this material cannot be formed at random, but -only in verse according to certain rhythmical and musical laws. In -poetry, all other arts return again; as epic, representing in a pleasing -and extended narrative the figurative history of races, it corresponds -to the plastic arts; as lyric, expressing some inner condition of soul, -it corresponds to music; as dramatic poetry, exhibiting the struggles -between characters acting out of directly opposite interests, it is the -union of both these arts. - -(2.) _Philosophy of Religion._--Poetry forms the transition from art to -religion. In art the idea was present for the intuition, in religion it -is present for the representation. The content of every religion is the -reconciliation of the finite with the infinite, of the subject with God. -All religions seek a union of the divine and the human. This was done in -the crudest form by - -(_a._) The natural religions of the oriental world. God is, with them, -but a power of nature, a substance of nature, in comparison with which -the finite and the individual disappear as nothing. - -(_b._) A higher idea of God is attained by the religions of spiritual -individuality, in which the divine is looked upon as subject,--as an -exalted subjectivity, full of power and wisdom in Judaism, the religion -of sublimity; as a circle of plastic divine forms in the Grecian -religion, the religion of beauty; as an absolute end of the state in the -Roman religion, the religion of the understanding or of design. - -(_c._) The revealed or Christian religion first establishes a positive -reconciliation between God and the world, by beholding the actual unity -of the divine and the human in the person of Christ, the God-man, and -apprehending God as triune, _i. e._ as Himself, as incarnate, and as -returning from this incarnation to Himself. The intellectual content of -revealed religion, or of Christianity, is thus the same as that of -speculative philosophy; the only difference being, that in the one case -the content is represented in the form of the representation, in the -form of a history; while, in the other, it appears in the form of the -conception. Stripped of its form of religious representation, we have -now the standpoint of - -(3.) _The Absolute Philosophy_, or the thought knowing itself as all -truth, and reproducing the whole natural and intellectual universe from -itself, having the system of philosophy for its development--a closed -circle of circles. - - -With Hegel closes the history of philosophy. The philosophical -developments which have succeeded him, and which are partly a carrying -out of his system, and partly the attempt to lay a new basis for -philosophy, belong to the present, and not yet to history. - -THE END. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 1: This word literally means _clearing up_, but has a -philosophical sense for which no precise equivalent is found in the -English language. When used physically, it denotes that every -obstruction which prevented the clear sight of the bodily eye is -removed, and when used psychologically it implies the same fact in -reference to our mental vision. The _Aufklaerung_ in philosophy is hence -the clearing up of difficulties which have hindered a true philosophical -insight. To express this, I know of no better word than the literal -rendering, "_up-clearing_" or "_clearing up_" which the reader will find -adopted in the following pages.--TRANSLATOR.] - -[Footnote 2: The article on Socrates, from page 52 to page 64, was -translated by Prof. N. G. Clark, of the University of Vermont.] - -[Footnote 3: A German mile is about four and a half English miles.--TR.] - -[Footnote 4: Schelling died August 20th, 1854, at Ragaz, Switzerland, -whither he had gone for the benefit of his health, which had long been -declining.--TRANSLATOR.] - - -D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. - - THE - TWO GREAT ANSWERS - TO THE - RECENT ATTACK ON THE BIBLE. - - -I.--REPLIES TO "ESSAYS AND REVIEWS." - -_With a Preface by the Lord Bishop of Oxford. 1 Vol., 12mo, Cloth_, -$1.50. - -CONTENTS. - - I.--THE EDUCATION OF THE WORLD. By the Rev. E. M. GOULBURN. - - II.--BUNSEN, the CRITICAL SCHOOL, and Dr. WILLIAMS. By the Rev. - J. H. ROSE. - - III.--MIRACLES. By the Rev. C. A. 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Cloth, $4; - Sheep, $4.75; Half Mor., $5.50; Half Russia, $6 per volume. - - The leading claims to public consideration which the _New - American Cyclopaedia_ possesses may be thus briefly stated: - - "1. It surpasses all other similar works in the fulness and - ability of the articles relating to the United States. - - "2. No other work contains so many reliable biographies of the - leading men of this and other nations. In this respect it is - far superior even to the more bulky Encyclopaedia Britannica. - - "3. The best minds of this country have been employed in - enriching its pages with the latest data, and the most recent - discoveries in every branch of manufactures, mechanics, and - general science. - - "4. It is a library in itself, where every topic is treated, - and where information can be gleaned which will enable a - student, if he is so disposed, to consult other authorities, - thus affording him an invaluable key to knowledge. - - "5. It is neatly printed with readable type on good paper, and - contains a most copious index. - - "6. It is the only work which gives anything approaching - correct descriptions of cities and towns of America, or - embraces reliable statistics showing the wonderful growth of - all sections." - - -Two Pictures; - - Or, What We Think of Ourselves, and What the World Thinks of - Us. By MARIA J. MCINTOSH, author of "Two Lives," "Charms and - Countercharms," etc. 1 vol., 12mo., 476 pages. $1.50. - - "The previous works of Miss McIntosh have been popular in the - best sense of the word. The simple beauty of her narratives, - combining pure sentiment with high principle, and noble views - of life and its duties, ought to win for them a hearing at - every fireside in our land. The lapse of time since we have - had any work of fiction from her pen, has only served to - increase her power." - - -A Glimpse of the World. - - By Miss SEWELL, author of "Amy Herbert," etc. 1 vol., 12mo. - Cloth, $1.25. - - "Of the authoress's style and language it would be superfluous - to speak. The simplicity of a refined nature, the ease of a - skilled writer, and the correctness of an industrious one, are - conspicuous in every page. There is no straining at effect, no - distortion of English palmed off as originality, no distrust - of native vigor evinced by a recourse to artificial."--_The - Press._ - - -The History of Civilization in England. - - By HENRY THOMAS BUCKLE.--2 vols. 8vo. Cloth, $6. - - Whoever misses reading this book, will miss reading what is, - in various respects, to the best of our judgment and - experience, the most remarkable book of the day--one, indeed, - that no thoughtful, inquiring mind would miss reading for a - good deal. Let the reader be as adverse as he may to the - writer's philosophy, let him be as devoted to the obstructive - as Mr. Buckle is to the progress party, let him be as orthodox - in church creed as the other is heterodox, as dogmatic as his - author is skeptical--let him, in short, find his prejudices - shocked at every turn of the argument, and all his - prepossessions whistled down the wind--still there is so much - in this extraordinary volume to stimulate reflection, and - excite to inquiry, and provoke to earnest investigation, - perhaps (to this or that reader) on a track hitherto - untrodden, and across the virgin soil of untilled fields, - fresh woods and pastures new--that we may fairly defy the most - hostile spirit, the most mistrustful and least sympathetic, to - read it through without being glad of having done so, or, - having begun it, or even glanced at almost any one of its 854 - pages, to pass it away unread.--_New Monthly (London) - Magazine_. - - -History of the Romans under the Empire. - - By CHARLES MERIVALE, B.D., late Fellow of St. John's College. - 7 Vols. small 8vo. Handsomely printed on tinted paper. Price, - $2 per Vol. (Nearly ready.) - - CONTENTS: - - Vols. I and II.--Comprising the History to the Fall of Julius - Caesar. - - Vol. III.--To the Establishment of the Monarchy by Augustus. - - Vols. IV. and V.--From Augustus to Claudius, B.C. 27 to A.D. - 54. - - Vol. VI.--From the Reign of Nero, A.D. 54, to the Fall of - Jerusalem, A.D. 70. - - Vol. VII.--From the Destruction of Jerusalem, A.D. 70, to the - Death of M. Aurelius. - - This valuable work terminates at the point where the narrative - of Gibbon commences. - - ... "When we enter on a more searching criticism of the two - writers, it must be admitted that Merivale has as firm a grasp - of his subject as Gibbon, and that his work is characterized - by a greater freedom from prejudice, and a sounder philosophy. - - ... "This history must always stand as a splendid monument of - his learning, his candor, and his vigorous grasp of intellect. - Though he is in some respects inferior to Macaulay and Grote, - he must still be classed with them as one of the second great - triumvirate of English historians."--_North American Review. - April, 1863._ - - - NEW VIEWS OF HEAT AND OF THE FORCES. - - HEAT, - - CONSIDERED AS A MODE OF MOTION, - - Being a Course of Twelve Lectures delivered before the Royal - Institution of Great Britain. - - BY JOHN TYNDALL, F. R. S. - - PROFESSOR OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE ROYAL - INSTITUTION--AUTHOR OF THE "GLACIERS OF THE ALPS." - - With One Hundred Illustrations. 8vo., 480 pages. Price, $2.00. - - This volume is by the gifted successor of Faraday, the young - Professor of Natural Philosophy in the Royal Institution of - England. The author, himself celebrated as a discoverer, an - ingenious and fertile experimenter, a bold but disciplined - thinker, a vivid and imaginative speaker, and dealing with the - most splendid generalizations and the grandest phenomena of - nature, was listened to with the profoundest attention. The - new views of the nature of heat, its connections with the - other forms of force, and the sublime part it plays in the - scheme of Nature--views which have but recently been adopted in - the scientific world--are here for the first time brought - forward, and illustrated with a resource of experiment, a - brilliancy of illustration, and a clearness and eloquence of - style for which Professor Tyndall is unequalled. - - +From the American Journal of Science.+--With all the skill which - has made Faraday the master of experimental science in Great - Britain, Professor Tyndall enjoys the advantage of a superior - general culture, and is thus enabled to set forth his - philosophy with all the graces of eloquence and the finish of - superior diction. With a simplicity, and absence of - technicalities which render his explanations lucid to - unscientific minds, and at the same time a thoroughness and - originality by which he instructs the most learned, he unfolds - all the modern philosophy of heat. - - +New York Times.+--Professor Tyndall's course of lectures on heat - is one of the most beautiful illustrations of a mode of - handling scientific subjects, which is comparatively new, and - which promises the best results, both to science and to - literature generally; we mean the treatment of subjects in a - style at once _profound_ and _popular_. The title of Professor - Tyndall's work indicates the theory of heat held by him, and - indeed the only one now held by scientific men--_it is a mode - of motion_. - - +Boston Journal.+--He exhibits the curious and beautiful workings - of nature in a most delightful manner. Before the reader - particles of water lock themselves or fly asunder with a - movement regulated like a dance. They form themselves into - liquid flowers with fine serrated petals, or into rosettes of - frozen gauze, they bound upward in boiling fountains, or creep - slowly onward in stupendous glaciers. Flames burst into music - and sing, or cease to sing, as the experimenter pleases, and - metals paint themselves upon a screen in dazzling hues as the - painter touches his canvas. - - +New York Tribune.+--The most original and important contribution - that has yet been made to the theory and literature of - thermotics. - - +Scientific American.+--The work is written in a charming style, - and is the most valuable contribution to scientific literature - that has been published in many years. It is the most popular - exposition of the dynamical theory of heat that has yet - appeared. The old material theory of heat may be said to be - defunct. - - +Louisville Democrat.+--This is one of the most delightful - scientific works we have ever met. The lectures are so full of - life and spirit that we can almost imagine the lecturer before - us, and see his brilliant experiments in every stage of their - progress. The theory is so carefully and thoroughly explained - that no one can fail to understand it. Such books as these - create a love for science. - - +Troy Whig.+--No one can take up these lectures and pursue the - general train and scope of thought which they compel, without - having attained already to a love of practical science which - will inevitably impress itself on his mental habits hereafter. - - +Independent.+--Professor Tyndall's expositions and experiments - are remarkably thoughtful, ingenious, clear and convincing; - portions of the book have almost the interest of a romance, so - startling are the descriptions and elucidations. - - -_Any of these Books sent free by mail to any address on receipt of -Price._ - - RECENT PUBLICATIONS - - OF - - D. APPLETON & CO., - - 443 & 445 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. - - The Life and Correspondence of THEODORE PARKER, Minister of - the Twenty-eighth Congregational Society, Boston. By JOHN - WEISS. With two Portraits on Steel, fac-simile of Handwriting, - and nineteen Wood Engravings. 2 vols., 8vo. 1,008 pages. - Price, $6. - - "These volumes contain an account of Mr. Parker's childhood - and self-education; of the development of his theological - ideas; of his scholarly and philosophical pursuits; and of his - relation to the Anti-Slavery cause, and to the epoch in - America which preceded the civil war. His two visits to Europe - are described in letters and extracts from his journal. An - autobiographical fragment is introduced in relation to Mr. - Parker's early life, and his letters of friendship on - literary, speculative, and political topics are freely - interspersed. The illustrations represent scenes connected - with various periods of Mr. Parker's life, the houses he dwelt - in, his country haunts, the meeting house, his library, and - the Music Hall in which he preached." - - - Catechism of the Steam Engine, - - In its various Applications to Mines, Mills, Steam Navigation, - Railways, and Agriculture. With Practical Instructions for the - Manufacture and Management of Engines of every Class. By JOHN - BOURNE, C. E. New and Revised Edition. 1 vol., 12mo. - Illustrated. Cloth. $2. - - "In offering to the American public a reprint of a work on the - Steam Engine so deservedly successful, and so long considered - standard, the Publishers have not thought it necessary that it - should be an exact copy of the English edition. There were - some details in which they thought it could be improved and - better adapted to the use of American Engineers. On this - account the size of the page has been increased to a full - 12mo, to admit of larger illustrations, which, in the English - edition, are often on too small a scale, and some of the - illustrations themselves have been supplied by others equally - applicable, more recent, and to us more familiar examples. The - first part of Chapter XI., devoted in the English edition to - English portable and fixed agricultural engines, in this - edition gives place entirely to illustrations from American - practice, of steam engines as applied to different purposes, - and of appliances and machines necessary to them. But with the - exception of some of the illustrations and the description of - them, and the correction of a few typographical errors, this - edition is a faithful transcript of the latest English - edition." - - - D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. - - History of the Romans under the Empire. By CHARLES MERIVALE, - B. D., late Fellow of St. John's College. 7 vols., small 8vo. - Handsomely printed on tinted paper. Price, in cloth, $2 per - vol. Half Morocco extra, $3 50. - - CONTENTS: - - Vols. I. and II.--Comprising the History to the Fall of Julius - Caesar. - - Vol. III.--To the Establishment of the Monarchy by Augustus. - - Vols. IV. and V.--From Augustus to Claudius, B. C. 27 to A. D. - 54. - - Vol. VI.--From the Reign of Nero, A. D. 54, to the Fall of - Jerusalem, A. D. 70. - - Vol. VII.--From the Destruction of Jerusalem, A. D. 70, to the - Death of M. Aurelius. - - This valuable work terminates at the point where the narrative - of Gibbon commences. - - ... "When we enter on a more searching criticism of the two - writers, it must be admitted that Merivale has as firm a grasp - of his subject as Gibbon, and that his work is characterized - by a greater freedom from prejudice, and a sounder philosophy. - - ... "This history must always stand as a splendid monument of - his learning, his candor, and his vigorous grasp of intellect. - Though he is in some respects inferior to Macaulay and Grote, - he must still be classed with them, as one of the second great - triumvirate of English historians."--_North American Review, - April, 1863._ - - - Practice in the Executive Department of the Government, under - the Pension, Bounty, and Prize Laws of the United States, with - Forms and Instructions for Collecting Arrears of Pay, Bounty, - and Prize Money, and for Obtaining Pensions. By ROBERT SEWELL, - Counsellor at Law. 1 vol., 8vo. Sheep. Price, $3 50. - - "I offer this little book with confidence to the profession, - as certain to save lawyers, in one case, if they never have - any more, more time and trouble than its cost. To the public - generally, the book is offered as containing a large amount of - useful information on a subject now, unfortunately, brought - home to half the families in the land. To the officers and - soldiers of the Army it will also be found a useful companion; - and it is hoped that by it an amount of information of great - value to the soldiers, and to their families at home, will be - disseminated, and the prevailing ignorance respecting the - subject treated of in a great degree removed."--_Extract from - Preface._ - - - Hints to Riflemen. - - By H. W. S. CLEVELAND. 1 vol., 12mo. Illustrated, with - numerous Designs of Rifles and Rifle Practice. Cloth. Price, - $1 50. - - "I offer these hints as the contribution of an old sportsman, - and if I succeed in any degree in exciting an interest in the - subject, my end will be accomplished, even if the future - investigations of those who are thus attracted should prove - any of my opinions to be erroneous."--_Extract from Preface._ - - - Laws and Principles of Whist, Stated and Explained, and its - Practice Illustrated on an Original System, by means of hands - played completely through. By CAVENDISH. From the fifth London - edition. 1 vol., square 16mo. Gilt edge. $1 25. - - "An excellent and very clearly written treatise; the rules of - the game thoroughly explained; its practice illustrated by - means of hands played completely through, and much of the - minutiae and finesse of the game given that we have never seen - in any other volume of the kind. Whist players will recognize - it as an authority; and that it is a success is proved by its - having already gone through five editions. It is got out very - neatly, in blue and gold, by the publishers."--_Com. Bulletin._ - - - Roba di Roma. - - By W. W. STORY. 2 vols., 12mo. Cloth, $3. - - "Till Rome shall fall, the City of the Seven Hills will be - inexhaustible as a subject of interest. 'Roba di Roma' - contains the gatherings of an honest observer and a real - artist.... It has permanent value to entitle it to a place of - honor on the shelf which contains every lover of Italy's - Rome-books."--_Athenaeum._ - - - Heat considered as a Mode of Motion. Being a Course of Twelve - Lectures delivered at the Royal Institution of Great Britain. - By JOHN TYNDALL, F.R.S. Author of "The Glaciers of the Alps." - 1 vol., 12mo. With 101 illustrations. Cloth. $2. - - "No one can rend Dr. Tyndall's book without being impressed - with the intensity of the author's conviction of the truth of - the theory which it is his object to illustrate, or with the - boldness with which he confronts the difficulties which lie - encounters.... Dr. Tyndall's is the first work in which the - undulatory or mechanical theory of heat has been placed in a - popular light; but we are sure that no one, however profound - his knowledge upon the subject of which it treats, will rise - from its perusal without a feeling that he has been both - gratified and instructed in a high degree while reading its - pages."--_London Reader._ - - - Life of Edward Livingston, Mayor of the City of New York; - Member of Congress; Senator of the United States; Secretary of - State; Minister to France; Author of a System of Penal Law for - Louisiana; Member of the Institute of France, etc. By CHARLES - H. HUNT, with an Introduction by GEORGE BANCROFT. 1 vol., 8vo. - Cloth, $3.50. - - "One of the purest of statesmen and the most genial of men, - was Edward Livingston, whose career is presented in this - volume.... - - "The author of this volume has done the country a service. He - has given us in a becoming form an appropriate memorial of one - whom succeeding generations will be proud to name as an - American jurist and statesman."--_Evangelist._ - - - Round the Block. An American Novel. With Illustrations. 1 - vol., 12mo. Cloth. Price, $1 50. - - "The story is remarkably clever. It presents the most vivid - and various pictures of men and manners in the great - Metropolis. Unlike most novels that now appear, it has no - 'mission,' the author being neither a politician nor a - reformer, but a story teller, according to the old pattern, - and a capital story he has produced, written in the happiest - style, and full of wit and action. He evidently knows his - ground, and moves over it with the foot of a master. It is a - work that will be read and admired, unless all love for good - novels has departed from us; and we know that such is not the - case."--_Boston Traveler._ - - - The History of Civilization in England. By HENRY THOMAS - BUCKLE. 2 vols., 8vo. Cloth. $6. - - "Whoever misses reading this book, will miss reading what is, - in various respects, to the best of our judgment and - experience, the most remarkable book of the day--one, indeed, - that no thoughtful, inquiring mind would miss reading for a - good deal. Let the reader be as averse as he may to the - writer's philosophy, let him be as devoted to the obstructive - as Mr. Buckle is to the progress party, let him be as orthodox - in church creed as the other is heterodox, as dogmatic as his - author is skeptical--let him, in short, find his prejudices - shocked at every turn of the argument, and all his - prepossessions whistled down the wind--still there is so much - in this extraordinary volume to stimulate reflection, and - excite to inquiry, and provoke to earnest investigation, - perhaps (to this or that reader) on a track hitherto - untrodden, and across the virgin soil of untilled fields, - fresh woods and pastures new--that we may fairly defy the most - hostile spirit, the most mistrustful and least sympathetic, to - read it through without being glad of having done so, or - having begun it, or even glanced at almost any one of its - pages, to pass it away unread."--_New Monthly (London) - Magazine._ - - - Illustrations of Universal Progress. - - A Series of Essays. By HERBERT SPENCER, Author of "The - Principles of Psychology;" "Social Statics;" "Education." 1 - vol., 12mo. Cloth, $1 75. - - "The readers who have made the acquaintance of Mr. Herbert - Spencer through his work on Education, and are interested in - his views upon a larger range of subjects, will welcome this - new volume of 'Essays.' Passing by the more scientific and - philosophical speculations, we may call attention to a group - of articles upon moral and political subjects, which are very - pertinent to the present condition of affairs."--_Tribune._ - - - Thirty Poems. - - BY WM. CULLEN BRYANT. 1 vol., 12mo. Cloth, $1.25; cloth gilt, - $1.75; mor., $3.50. - - "No English poet surpasses him in knowledge of nature, and but - few are his equals. He is better than Cowper and Thomson in - their special walks of poetry, and the equal of Wordsworth, - that great high priest of nature."--_The World._ - - - An Introduction to Municipal Law, designed for General - Readers, and for Students in Colleges and High Schools. By - JOHN NORTON POMEROY. 1 vol., 8vo. 544 pages. Cloth, $3. - - "I have spent nearly four days in reading your book, and am - willing to say, in reference to it, that, when considered in - reference to its scope and the design had in view in entering - upon it, it is a work of great merit. The topics are presented - clearly, discussed with ability, and in the main satisfactory - results arrived at. Parts I. and II., I think, may prove very - useful to students at law and young lawyers, as there is a - great deal in the history of the law, and especially in its - sources, both common and civil, that is very clearly, briefly, - and logically stated, and more available in the manner - presented in your work than in any other that I am acquainted - with."--_From_ AMOS DEAN, _Esq., Albany Law School_. - - - Thackeray; The Humorist and Man of Letters, the Story of his - Life, with particulars of his early career never before made - public. By THEODORE TAYLOR, Esq. Illustrated with a Portrait, - one of the latest taken from life; View of Thackeray's House; - Facsimile of his Handwriting; Humorous Illustrations by George - Cruikshank; and other Pictures and Sketches. One vol., 12mo. - Cloth. Price, $1 25. - - "The author, Mr. T. Taylor, long resident in Paris, has been - collecting information for many years, and has much to say of - Mr. Thackeray's artist life in that city. The book is - illustrated with a portrait and some curious original - sketches."--_From the Guardian._ - - - The Iron Manufacture of Great Britain. Theoretically and - Practically considered: Including Descriptive Details of the - Ores, Fuels, and Fluxes employed; the Preliminary Operation of - Calcination; the Blast, Refining, and Puddling Furnaces; - Engines and Machinery; and the Various Processes in Union, - etc., etc. By W. TRURAN, C. E., formerly Engineer at the - Dowlais Iron Works, under the late Sir John Guest, Bart. - Second Edition, revised from the manuscripts of the late Mr. - Truran, by J. ARTHUR PHILLIPS, Author of "A Manual of - Metallurgy," "Records of Mining," etc., and WM. H. DORMAN. One - vol., imperial 8vo. Containing 84 Plates. 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